#dr langdon fluff

[shadeofpeach]

Control your brat

Pairing: Dr Frank Langdon x resident!girlfriend!reader (ft. Dr. Michael Robinavitch) Warnings: age gap reader could be younger cause of her attitude. physical violence, fistfight, cursing, mild chokehold, throat hold, bruises, cuts, and minor blood, unprofessional behavior, ER drama. Summary: your shift takes a violent turn when an insecure patient’s girlfriend accuses you of flirting with her boy.

Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and written solely for entertainment purposes.

You had taken the case of a teenage boy brought in with a severe laceration on his leg and a possible concussion after a bike accident.

Standard procedure.

But his girlfriend, a girl no older than eighteen with eyes sharp with insecurity, made it anything but standard.

Every time you leaned in to check the boy's pupils, she stepped into your personal space. Every time you gently asked him to rate his pain on a scale of one to ten, she crossed her arms and glared.

"Is there a reason you're standing so close to him?" she finally snapped.

You paused. "I’m examining your boyfriend's injuries, miss."

"Yeah, well, you're smiling at him. You've been flirting with him since we got into this room. Do your fucking job and keep your hands to yourself."

"I am doing my job," you said, keeping your voice tightly controlled, though a pulse was beginning to throb in your temple. "I need you to step back so I can work."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

The commotion drew attention. Before you could escalate or de-escalate, Robby walked into the room. He took in the girl’s furious face, your rigid posture, and the boy looking desperately uncomfortable on the gurney.

"Everything alright in here?" Robby asked smoothly.

"Your doctor here is trying to hit on my boyfriend!" the girl shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at you.

"I'm not-"

"Doctor, why don't you step out and take five? I'll finish up here." Robby interrupted you, giving you a subtle nod.

You swallowed hard, your jaw clenched so tight it ached. "Fine."

You stripped off your gloves, tossed them into the bin, and walked out. You needed air. Real, cold, outside air.

You pushed through the double doors leading to the ambulance bay. The fresh air hit your face, but it did little to quell the heat rushing through your veins. "Fucking bitch making me angry," You murmured and leaned against the wall, closing your eyes, taking deep breaths.

You heard the doors swing open, followed by aggressive footsteps.

"Hey! Flirt!"

You opened your eyes just in time to see the girlfriend marching toward you, her face twisted in rage.

"I wasn't done talking to you-"

"Get away from me," you warned. "Go back inside."

"Make me, you bitch-"

Before you could react, her hand flew out.

Her fist connected hard with the side of your jaw.

Your head jerked sideways. Pain exploded across your face. Something inside you; weeks of brutal shifts, sleep deprivation, and the sheer audacity of being struck, just broke.

"You fucking crazy bitch!" you screamed.

You lunged. You didn't think at all. Adrenaline slammed through your system. You grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her down, and landed a solid punch straight to her cheekbone.

She shrieked, clawing at your face, catching her nails along your collar. You dragged her to the pavement, knees slamming into the concrete. Hands pulled, fists flew, and insults were hurled back and forth in a blur of movement and violence.

You were completely blind with rage, operating purely on survival and unadulterated fury.

"Hey! HEY! Break it up!"

Strong hands suddenly seized you under your arms, hauling you backward with force.

"Get off me! I'll fucking kill her!" you spat, thrashing blindly, kicking out at the girl who was being dragged back by Jesse.

"Jesus christ, calm down girl," Jesse yelled, holding the girl who was still screaming profanities, her nose bleeding.

The hands holding you pulled you back against a chest. The scent of familiar cologne broke through the haze of your rage.

"I've got her. Jesse, get that girl inside," a deep voice barked near your ear.

Dr. Frank Langdon.

"Frank, let me go!" you shouted, still squirming, your fists clenched so tight your knuckles were white. "Let me fucking go!"

Frank didn't say a word. He kept a firm grip on you, practically half dragging, half guiding your body away from the ambulance bay.

He shoved open the door to an empty exam room, hauled you inside, and kicked the door shut with his feet.

"Frank-"

In a flash, Frank spun you around, backing you up until your spine hit the wall.

He stepped right into your space, his large hand coming up to wrap firmly around the front of your neck, not choking you, but holding you in place.

"Calm the fuck down, baby," Frank growled, his face inches from yours, his grip firm. "Look at me."

You blinked, your chest heaving, tears of pure adrenaline pricking the corners of your eyes.

"Hey, calm down," he said calmly, commanding you.

"Frank... she fucking hit me-"

"I know, baby," he rasped, his grip on your neck softening into a possessive squeeze, his thumb tracing the rising bruise on your jaw. "I know she did. I saw it. But you're a doctor, and you're completely out of your mind right now."

He leaned down, his breath fanning across your lips.

He didn't pull his hand away until he felt the violent rhythm of your breathing finally settle into something manageable. But the residual rage remained, vibrating right under your skin.

You were practically humming with bad energy, your body rigid, jaw locked, eyes blazing with fury.

Frank let out a heavy breath, his thumb sweeping over your lower lip one last time before he stepped back to lock the exam room door properly.

"Sit," he ordered softly, gesturing toward the stainless-steel exam table.

You didn't move for a second, glaring at the floor as if you could set it on fire. Then, you shoved yourself up onto the table.

Your legs swung rhythmically, knees knocking together, knuckles still bright red and raw.

Frank pulled up a rolling stool, wheeling it right near your knees so you were forced to look at him.

"Give me your hands first, baby," he murmured, reaching out.

You thrust your hands forward, refusing to make eye contact. Your knuckles were red from where you’d cracked her across the cheekbone.

Every time he pressed down, your whole body twitched, muscle tension practically radiating off you in waves.

"Seriously, baby, calm down," Frank muttered, eyes flicking up to assess your face. "Still want to go back out there and rip her hair out?"

"She split my lip and bruised my jaw," you spat out. "If Jesse hadn't pulled her off, I would've broken her fucking nose for being a jealous bitch."

"I know you would have, baby," he said, zero judgment in his voice. "I'm almost impressed, if I wasn't so busy trying to keep Robby from firing you on the spot."

"Let him," you snapped, leaning your head back against the wall, teeth grinding. "I don't care."

"Liar," Frank grunted softly. He discarded the gauze and picked up a clean swab, dabbing gently at the cut on your cheekbone.

You winced, a hiss escaping your teeth and tried to flinch away.

Frank’s large hand immediately clamped around your thigh, holding you dead in place. "Ah-ah. Hold still, sweet face."

"It stings," you muttered, glaring at him.

"That's what happens when you roll around on the concrete, baby," he replied, though his touch was gentle as he cleaned the tiny gravel scrapes near your hairline. "You're lucky she didn't catch you in the eye."

"I hit her harder," you grumbled.

Frank chuckled, curing your lip and shaking his head as he unwrapped an ice pack. "Yeah. Yeah, you did. You nearly knocked her teeth out, baby."

He leaned in to wrap around the nape of your neck, gently tilting your head up. He pressed the ice pack against your swollen jaw. You winced again, your body stiffening, but Frank didn't let go. He held the ice there, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Look at me," he murmured, his thumb stroking the tender skin behind your ear. "This bad energy? Drop it. It's done. I'm handling the paperwork, Robby's probably discharging the kid, and that girl is getting escorted off by security before she can open her mouth again."

"Frank-"

"I mean it, baby," he cut in. "Drop it, and let your boyfriend fix you up. Okay?"

You stared at him, the angry heat in your chest slowly colliding with the warmth radiating from his hands. A sigh finally rattled out of your chest, your shoulders dropping.

"Okay," you whispered, leaning your forehead weakly against him.

Frank rested his chin on top of your head, his hand staying firm on your neck, holding you close while the ice slowly numbed the throbbing pain. "Good girl," he grunted softly, kissing your hair.

Then, the door opened and Robby stepped inside. He took one look at the scene: you perched on the table with an ice pack glued to your face, Frank hovering over you like a protective guard dog.

A smirk spread across his face.

"How's my little fighter doing?" Robby asked, leaning back against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

You shot him a glare through your good eye, though the effect was entirely ruined by the ice pack pressed to your jaw. "I'm fine, Robby."

"Yeah, you look great," Robby chuckled, shaking his head. "Jesse’s out there boasting to the staff that you’ve got a mean left hook. Said you almost took the girl's head clean off."

Frank didn't move an inch away from you. He kept his hand firmly planted on your neck.

"She started it, Robby," Frank grunted defensively. "The girl laid a hand on her first. Out in the bay."

"I know she did, Frank, I saw the security footage on my way over," Robby said, his softening. He looked directly at you, giving you a fatherly look. "For the record? You're off that case. And off the floor for the next two hours until that jaw stops throbbing and you stop looking like you want to punch whoever breathes wrong beside you."

"Robby, I can work-" you started, trying to sit up straighter.

"You're taking them, baby," Frank cut in smoothly, his grip tightening just enough on your neck to keep you rooted to the table. "Don't argue."

Robby stifled a grin, pushing off the doorframe. "Listen to your boyfriend. And your attending. I told security to escort the girl off, and her boyfriend is getting transferred to another hospital. No charges are being filed, but if I see you fighting someone on the ambulance bay again today, I'm assigning you to digital rectal exams for a month."

"Understood," you muttered.

"Good." Robby checked his watch, flashing a quick look between the two of you. "Ice it for twenty more minutes. And, Langdon? Try to keep your bratty girlfriend from starting any more underground fight clubs in my ER."

"HEY!" you screamed in offense.

"She's your resident, you know?"

"My resident. Your brat. Control her."

"No promises," Frank grunted back, smirking.

As the door clicked shut behind Robby, Frank let out a snort, bringing his gaze back down to yours. "You heard him, baby. Mouth shut. No more punches."

⋆｡˚☤🩺✧˖°.｡⋆💉

the pitt masterlistd

[angelverse222]

domestic˚.ೃ࿔

frank langdon x fem!reader oneshot

cw: cuddling, face tracing, dr langdon explaining and demonstrating where every bone in your face is, established relationship, fluff, falling asleep together

not proofread!! lowercase intentional

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the apartment is quiet in that late night way that only happens after a long shift, when the city finally exhales. the lamp on frank’s bedside table glows soft and yellow, barely lighting the room well enough to walk around, just enough to make out the shapes and dips on each other's skin. you're curled beside him under the blankets, both of you half asleep, him still wearing the tiredness of the hospital like a second skin. you've been working all day as well, typing away at your keyboard, posture never quite perfect enough to relieve the tension from your shoulders.

his hand rests on your cheek, warm and slow, the way people move when they are too tired to rush anything. he grazes his thumb under your eye, across your cheekbone, and brushes his knuckles along your jaw, watching the muscles in your face relax as you drift further into your sleepy haze.

"you know," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, "after a whole day of looking at ct scans and trauma charts, sometimes i forget people are just… bones and muscles under all this." his thumb brushes gently across your forehead. "but you make a pretty good anatomy review." you hum softly, a half-laugh, too tired to muster up anything more. you keep your eyes closed, not really responding, but he knows you're listening. frank shifts a little closer and traces along the center of your forehead with one finger.

"right here," he says quietly, "that’s the frontal bone. it makes up your forehead and the roof of your eye sockets. very strong. protects the frontal lobe of your brain." his finger moves slowly like he is mapping it. "lucky for you, it’s doing a good job." he presses a quick kiss over where his thumb just traced, earning a loopy grin from you.

his hand drifts down the bridge of your nose, light enough that it almost tickles. "these little guys," he says, tapping gently along the top ridge, "nasal bones. two small bones that form the bridge of your nose. people break these all the time in the er. dana got hers dented real nice the other week. you’ve managed to keep yours intact."

his finger slides outward to the side of your face, tracing along the curve of your cheek. "and this is the zygomatic bone. cheekbone." he pauses, smiling faintly in the dim light. "one of the easiest bones to feel. makes the arch of your cheek and part of the orbit around your eye." you shift slightly against the pillow, him adjusting with you, still tracing slow lines like he is studying a diagram only he gets to see. at least like this.

"under that," he continues, fingertip drifting just below your cheekbone, "you’ve got the maxilla. technically two bones fused together. they hold your upper teeth and form part of your nose and the floor of your eye socket."

his hand settles along your jaw, thumb brushing the corner where it angles upward. "and this one," he says softly, "is the mandible. your lower jaw. the only movable bone in your skull." he gently follows the line of it from your chin back toward your ear. "pretty important for talking. and arguing with me." you make a sleepy sound that might be a laugh, frank moving to kiss the corner of your mouth tenderly.

frank’s fingers move up toward your temple, pressing lightly against the side of your head. "temporal bone here," he explains. "right around your ear. it houses the structures of the inner ear. hearing, balance, all that good stuff."

his hand slides upward through your hair, fingertips brushing your scalp as he traces the curve above your ear. "and up here is the parietal bone. actually two of them, one on each side. they make up most of the roof and sides of the skull." he pauses for a second, his hand resting in your hair as his eyes get heavier.

"toward the back," he continues quietly, guiding his fingers along the back of your head where it meets the pillow, "that’s the occipital bone. protects the occipital lobe; the part of the brain that handles vision." you tilt your head slightly into his hand, half asleep now. frank smiles at the movement and lets his thumb drift down behind your ear. "right around here," he murmurs, "you can feel the mastoid process. little bump on the temporal bone. muscles in the neck attach there." his fingers trail slowly down the side of your neck, careful and gentle.

"these are your cervical vertebrae underneath," he says, voice softer now. "seven of them. c1 through c7. the first one is the atlas. holds up your skull. the second is the axis. lets you rotate your head." his fingertip pauses at the front of your throat but stays feather light.

"and right here, tucked above the larynx," he says, "is the hyoid bone. kind of floating. doesn’t articulate with other bones. it anchors muscles for swallowing and speaking." you shift closer again, practically asleep now, and his hand settles along the side of your neck. "the clavicle is down here," he adds quietly, tracing the gentle line where your neck meets your shoulder. "collarbone. technically part of the shoulder girdle but it frames the base of the neck."

for a moment he stops talking, just watching your slow breathing. his fingers drift back to your face, brushing across your cheek again. "you know," he murmurs, almost to himself, "most people hear bone names and think it’s cold. clinical." his thumb rests along your mandible again, warm and steady. "you're cold and clinical." you mumble sleepily, earning a low chuckle from frank.

"but it’s kind of amazing," he says softly. "all those pieces fitting together. protecting everything important." you're almost fully asleep now, your breathing slow and even against his shoulder. frank studies your face for another quiet moment, tracing the same path across your cheekbone one last time. "rontal bone," he whispers lazily.

his finger slides down the bridge of your nose. "nasal bones."

across your cheek. "zygomatic."

along your jaw. "mandible."

for a while frank does not move at all. he just watches you sleep, the slow rise and fall of your breathing steady beneath the blanket. the room is quiet except for that and the faint hum of the lamp beside the bed. your face is relaxed in that way it only gets when you are truly asleep, all the tension from your long day gone. he studies the curve of your cheek against the pillow, the same bones he was tracing only minutes ago now softened by sleep and dim light.

he brushes a stray piece of hair away from your forehead and leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss there, right over the frontal bone he had pointed out earlier. the kiss is slow and careful, like he does not want to wake you even a little. you shift slightly but do not open your eyes, only settling closer to him. frank smiles faintly at that before reaching over to the bedside table. he clicks the lamp off, and the room falls into soft darkness. then he settles back into the pillow beside you, one arm loosely around you, and within minutes the exhaustion of the day pulls him into sleep too.

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a/n: first time writing for anything other than boyliife!! do we like?! i didnt tag my usual people because idk if yall would like this but if youre typically on my permanent taglist and did enjoy i'm so glad!!

i'm meant to be on break rn but i saw a tiktok of this and had to do it for dr langdon🤍🤍

if you enjoyed this, read this!

@wouldyouuratherr

[mariasont]

IF SELENE IS LISTENING ⋆˚࿔

frank coaxes an overtired tired, tipsy you into his lap and takes over the job of caring for you

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ interested in how the pitt crew got approved for a week in greece? the original invitation is still posted

PAIRING: frank langdon x er!barbie reader WARNINGS: fluff, tipsy!reader, au where they are together and in love already!!!!!!, little PDA, lots of yearning, established relationship, protective frank langdon!, kissing, lap sitting, sleeping/passing out PROMPT: here! WC: 1.1k

Sometimes Frank thinks he should put you on a leash.

Get one of those toddler backpack rigs with the little animal character on it and clip you in. Maybe that would preserve what remains of his peace.

Morifying for you, humiliating for him, definitely probably a terrible look in public, but at least you’d stay within a five-foot radius and he could stop living in this permanent state of low-grade vigilance you seem to provoke as casually as breathing. 

And he loves you. Deeply. Completely.

That’s the problem. Love, with you, is surveillance. It is anticipatory. It is watching for the exact point at which your glittering, social, I’m-fine performance starts to come apart at the seams while you insist it isn’t happening.

You just never seem to know when to stop. 

And tonight you are all over the pool patio with a mojito slicking one hand cold and damp, dribbling little sacrificial offerings of rum and mint over the stone, while the other hand keeps straying to the bikini strap at your hip. 

Restless. Fidgety. Smiling at everyone. Talking too loudly. 

A little drunk, a little sleepy, and, as ever, too stubborn to concede either.

The moment you glance his way, Frank tilts his chin and crooks two fingers in a come here.

A gesture that should not, by any reasonable standard, contain so much possession in it, and yet your expression changes all at once, brightening with buzzed delight as you cross toward him.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite person to be bossed around by,” you say when you reach him, voice dipped in honey. You stop beside his lounger, smiling down at him. It’s such a pretty smile. “Did you miss me terribly?”

“I usually do.” 

There’s no point in pretending otherwise.

That gets you. 

“Yeah?” You tip forward a little, closing the distance with shameless interest. “Can I get a kiss, then?”

Frank’s mouth twitches. “You can get whatever you want, sweetheart.”

He lifts a hand to your jaw and draws you down, sealing his mouth over yours in a kiss that has to be brief by sheer circumstance, though not so brief he misses the cool, fizzy ghost of lime on your lips. 

Sugary and faintly effervescent, the taste of it lingering for one extra second after he pulls back, temptation rendered in citrus. 

Frank has never been especially talented at self-control where you are concerned.

It’s why he’s not a fan of PDA. Public affection is never only that. It is a beginning. A permission slip.

One kiss and suddenly he is keenly aware of all the ones he is not having, all the ways he would rather be kissing you if the two of you were alone.

So he stops there, because he has to, and leaves your hand at your jaw instead, thumb brushing once over your cheek.

“What do you say we go find you something to eat?”

You make a face immediately, lower lip pushing out in a sulky little pout. “‘M not hungry.”

“That’s fascinating, because you look like you’re about two minutes from falling asleep standing up.”

“You make everything sound so dire.”

Frank snorts. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Then, in a flawless little proof-of-concept, you sway backward with all the structural integrity of a wilting palm tree. 

Frank moves before the thought fully forms, hands shooting out to catch the back of your thigh, fingers splaying over the soft curve just beneath your ass as he drags your forward. One quick tug and there you are, neatly slotted between his legs. 

Your hands land on his shoulders and you giggle, as if nearly toppling over into a concussion is somehow charming rather than precisely the kind of thing that keeps shaving years off his life.

He squeezes once, firm and corrective. 

“Okay, well, what do you say you keep me company for a while?”

He could tell you to sit down. You might even listen, eventually, but not without first delivering a brief theatrical monologue on authoritarianism and oppression and how cruel it is to stifle your sparkle.

So. Better not make it about obedience. Frank has learned this the hard way, or at least the repetitive way.

There are only so many reliable methods of keeping you where he can see you, and most of them depend on reframing the situation until it no longer sounds like containment.

You resent being managed. You respond beautifully to being needed. Especially by him. 

“Mm, okay,” you murmur at once, whatever resistance you had dissolving on contact. 

Before Frank can offer any further guidance, you’re already hauling yourself into his lap with spectacularly poor mechanics, all grabby hands and misfiring limbs, nudging him backward against the lounger.

And after a moment of awkward shifting and a fair amount of readjusting, you finally settle into him in a drowsy little heap, half draped across his lap and half tucked into his side. 

Frank extracts the mojito from your hand just before the remainder can go down the front of his shirt, though not before a bright cold splash hits his chest anyway.

He puts the glass aside and looks back at you.

Brushes your hair off your face. Once, twice, again, until there you are properly visible beneath it.

You blink up at him, visibly straining to keep your eyes open, lashes heavy with the effort. “You know what Parker told me earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“That you’re not supposed to compliment the moon here.”

Frank’s fingers drift through your hair again. “And why’s that?”

“Apparently,” you say, lowering your voice, “it’s bad luck. Like if you say it’s pretty, then something in your life gets ruined out of jealousy.”

Your finger wanders over his shirt, drawing something looping into the cotton, your nail a shiny petal-pink that matches the sparkle dusted over your eyes. 

He asks, “Should I be concerned you’ve already told it how pretty it is?” 

A tiny crease appears between your brows. 

“Maybe a little.” Your nail catches on his shift before drifting on again. “But it kind of makes sense, doesn’t it? Because Selene is the moon, and Helios is the sun, and they’re siblings, I think, so maybe he gets weird about it… because if everyone keeps talking about how beautiful the moon is, and nobody’s complimenting the sun, that could create resentment. Familial resentment. Which is, like, one of the oldest forces in mythology.”

Frank opens his mouth, halfway to saying that while the ancient Greeks certainly contained enough familial instability to support the theory, he strongly suspects Parker is still just screwing with you, and then he looks down. 

You are asleep. 

He huffs a laugh through his nose, quiet enough not to disturb you, and shifts his hand higher along your back, settling you more securely against him. 

This, too, is part of loving you, he thinks. The rare and fragile privilege of being where you land when the night catches up to you.

Around you, the patio goes on glowing. Voices blur. Glass clinks somewhere in the distance. Water shifts blue-black under the moonlight. 

He leans his head back against the lounger and lets himself look out at it for a second. It is a pretty moon.

If Selene is listening, she can be flattered. He’ll take the risk.

this fic was part of my 2 year celebration: maria's summer in santorini 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ to learn more, click here!

FIND OUT WHERE YOU’RE STAYING: HERE!

SECURE YOUR PASSPORT STAMP: HERE!

MARIA'S SUMMER IN SANTORINI MASTERLIST

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Coffee & Naps

Frank Langdon x Fem!Reader

This is short because I’m incredibly tired but I wanted to post something. I promise tomorrow’s post is gonna be a lot better.

Despite working morning shifts, Frank Langdon is not a morning person.

So when you walk into the break room at 6:12 a.m. and find him already there…

…curled up in the corner chair…

…half asleep…

…it stops you dead in your tracks.

His long legs are stretched out under the table, one arm folded behind his head, the other loosely wrapped around a paper coffee cup that has definitely gone cold. His sunglasses are slightly crooked on his nose, lashes resting heavy against his cheeks.

For once the almighty Frank Langdon looks soft.

You ease the door shut behind you, gentle, careful. The last thing you want is to wake him. He looks like he fought a war yesterday. Which, knowing this place… he probably did.

You move quietly around the counter, grabbing your own coffee, but the old machine makes that obnoxious grinding noise and-

Frank shifts and one eye cracks open, “You’re loud,” he mutters, voice rough with sleep.

You blink at him. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

His mouth twitches, it’s not quite a smile, but close.

You lean against the counter, studying how beat he looks. “You sleep here?”

“Power nap,” he corrects automatically.

“You were snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Oh but you absolutely do.”

Now he opens both eyes, fixing you with that tired, unimpressed look he saves just for you, it’s one that should feel intimidating but never quite does.

“Do you have a clinical reason for being this annoying this early in the morning,” he asks, “or am I special?”

You grin into your coffee, “Missed you too, Langdon.”

That does something to his face. It’s small. Quick. Easy to miss if you weren’t already watching him like it was your favorite hobby.

But his shoulders drop a fraction and his voice, when he speaks again, is quieter, “You just saw me twelve hours ago.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, pushing off the counter. “Long time.”

“You look exhausted,” you murmur.

His eyes flick up to yours, “Long shift,” he says finally.

You hum, soft. Understanding. Always too understanding with him.

“C’mon,” you say gently, nodding toward the coffee machine. “I’ll make you a fresh one. The one you’re holding looks like it fought in the Civil War.”

“…You’re not funny.”

You’re already turning away, grabbing a clean cup.

“I’m hilarious. You’re just sleep-deprived.”

Behind you, there’s a quiet rustle of movement before Frank sitting up properly now, rubbing a hand down his face, “Thanks.”

You pause.

Because Frank Langdon doesn’t say thanks very often.

But you don’t make it a big deal out of it, you just glance back over your shoulder and give him a small, easy smile, “Yeah,” you say lightly. “You’re Welcome.”

And for the first time all morning.. Frank actually smiles.

[u-get-to-c-the-medical-stuff]

ALD - Baby?

Character: Frank Langdon

Notes: "I love and tolerate only my wife" energy, wife!reader for this one, not proofread.

"Baby? How did that ever happen?"

Frank pauses, looking down at the new nurse transfer. He couldn't bother remembering her name or from where, not appreciating how she stood so close or how she grinned and cooed at him. It was gross.

Only one woman other than his mother could coo at him. And it definitely wasn't her. "Why?" He asked shortly, jaw clenched. He promised he would be good today. He promised her. Homemade cookies were on the line, here.

A serious thing, one of the many things he had no problem being bribed with by his woman. The nurse simply shrugs, an awkward but sour look on her face. He willed himself not to laugh. She twirls her curls... which should be up-

"Just... curious. She's like, a celebrity nurse or something. I've seen about 10 people say hi to her! Not an exaggeration! She shouldn't even be down here, right? She has her own department." Frank stares, taking another breath.

Just think of the cookies, Frank. It's all for your wife's warm cookies. "Nurses aren't confined to one department, especially if we get a kid down here. It's more common than you think." That's all he said, avoiding the question.

His eyes darting towards the time in desperation. 5 more minutes. He only had 5 more minutes before he could clock out and track his beauty of a wife down. He deserved double at this point, he swore!

"Okay. But, that doesn't explain the nickname." "Does it matter?" He hisses, getting handsy. He fidgets with his badge, his stethoscope, the little charm his wife snuck onto his lanyard. It was a little bear, this time-

"It used to be an insult." He preems at the familiar voice. He then grimaces as her words caught up to him, ashamed despite all of the years that has passed. "It isn't now," Baby smiles softly at him, a hand on his back and stomach.

"I know it isn't," She reassures as a hand slips its way around her wrist. He revels in the steady pulse, tension being forced out of his body. Baby turns to the nurse with a kind smile. "It's also a play on words, kinda. Since, you know,"

She gestures to her soft and colorful scrubs. "I work with babies." The new nurse nodded, eyeing her hand placement in distaste. Baby notices, smiling in confusion. Before she could say anything, Frank's phone beeped.

He groans in relief. "Finally." Baby squeaks as she's scooped up into his arms, laughing a bit at his childish grin. "I do believe my wife owes me cookies." She snorts as she's set down, helping him tug his rings from their place in his shirt.

She gives him a scolding look, amused. "You've been good?" "Yes." "All day-?" "Yes!" He interrupted, placing his forehead onto the top of her head. "Babe- please. You can even check with Dana, or Rob, or whoever!"

"Childish." She mumbles fondly, hands rubbing his sides. He just smirks. "Well, that's kind of your thing, right-? Ow!" He pouts dramatically as his stomach was pinched. As sweet as the scene was, it was quickly interrupted.

"Wife? I didn't know you were married." The nurse blurts out. "You never really talk about your personal life-" "To you, I don't." Frank cut in with a firm nod. He brings his wife close with a soft and relaxed grin, his eyes warning her.

She falters with a frown. "You... you never had those before." She utters weakly, pointing to the shining and dangling rings. There were three of them, and she didn't have the courage to ask what each of them were for.

"I wear my rings under my shirt while I work. Baby just decided to wear a silicone one. I have one too, but, it's easier doing this." He pats his rings, before turning to his wife. "Speaking of," He mumbles, grabbing her hand.

He traces her silicone ring, sighing deeply. "Ready to go?" He utters gently, noticing the exhaustion on her face. She loved her job, but babies were a lot of energy. She smiles sweetly, nodding, getting a peck to the head.

"But, yeah. This is my baby. She's mine, and I'm happily hers."

Taglist: PENDING...

[nostarfights]

Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Pairing: Frank Langdon X fem!Reader

Summary: You brighten Frank’s evening after a bad first shift back.

Warnings: Established relationship, mention of Frank’s back pain, canon divergence (Frank was never married to Abby and doesn’t have kids), kissing and a little cursing.

Word Count: 577

Today had been one of the worst shifts Frank had had since before he went to rehab, to say the least. Barely anything seemed to be going right, charts wouldn’t stop piling up, his back was killing him and as dramatic as it sounded in his head, he felt like everyone except for you, Mel, Dana and maybe Donnie hated him. And no matter how hard he tried, Robby wouldn’t stop giving him a hard time and screaming about how he didn’t want him there. And now, all Frank wanted was to go home, cuddle up with you on the couch and just put this day behind him.

When suddenly, the scent of your perfume filled his nostrils. He looked up from where he sat in front of one of the computers in the ED to see you standing there looking as beautiful as ever with a small red cooler in hand. You smiled at him, “Hey.” you said and in an instant, his face lit up and his shoulders relaxed. He practically shot out of his chair and back onto his feet, “Hey, what’re you doing here, baby? I missed you.” he replied, already tightly wrapping his arms around you. You were truly his light at the end of the tunnel every time one of his shifts ended. You gently rubbed his back, making some of his pain go away, “Well, I thought I’d come get you so we could watch the fireworks together on top of the garage.” you explained as you slowly pulled away and he smiled, the first genuine one he’d done since he left your shared apartment this morning.

He briefly put his hands on your biceps, relishing in your scent and touch, “God, you’re so fucking perfect. Okay, just give me ten minutes then I’m all yours, sweetheart.” he told you with a quick kiss to your lips, making you giggle. “Alright, pretty boy.” you said, happily sitting down next to him on a nearby swivel chair, the pet name causing his cheeks to blush. And once he was ready to go thirty minutes later, back in the clothes he’d left in this morning and his backpack slung over his shoulder, you intertwined your fingers with his and led him up to the top floor of the garage, a few of his coworkers already standing around. You briefly separated from him to set down the cooler you’d brought and opened it, revealing a six pack of his favorite beer residing inside it. “Here you go.” you said, popping the top off of one and handing it to him.

And you swore he was looking at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky just for him. He shook his head in disbelief, “I don’t deserve you.” he murmured, only wanting you to hear these words, his gratefulness for you hitting him all at once. You cupped his face in your hand, “Yes, you do and I’ll spend the rest of my life reminding you if I have to.” you quietly said back and pressed a soft, quick kiss to his lips. He went in for more, deepening it for a few moments before he pulled away, remembering who he was surrounded by. “I love you, baby.” he whispered into your ear with a kiss to your forehead while he wrapped his arm around you. You softly smiled up at him, “I love you too, Frankie.” you whispered back.

NAVIGATION send a request!

[impalafleurs]

Home at last … ֺּׅ𓏲𝄢 𓈒ֵ۫ ˚ ̣

summary: you're the best part of frank's day genre: fluff warnings/content: wife!reader, petnames, established relationship, teasing, requested!! word count: 479 a/n: proud of this one.. i love him<3 also not sure why it's flagged bye

The smooth fabric of a blanket wrapped around your frame. It smelled like him; sandalwood with a hint of vanilla (your suggestion). you missed him.

it was 11pm—way past his scheduled ending time of 8pm. not that it surprised you anymore, something always happened at the PTMC that kept you away from your love.

the tv played in the background to your thoughts, in one ear out the other. dinner was ready by 7:30 and you only ate because you knew Frank would protest otherwise. this couch was your only company ever since you came from your own place of work at 6.

then as if by some miracle, the door opened with the jingle of keys, disrupting your thoughts.

he looked defeated.

a frown hangs from your face as you speak, “hi”

he meets your eyes, offering a half-smile “hey honey— oh don’t make that face”

“bad day?”

“never really great days in there babe” he chuckles, though its laced with anything but amusement

“I made salmon and rice for dinner” you’re up now, walking towards him

he stops unpacking and looks up at you “and you ate correct?”

“c’mon you haven’t even been here for a minute and you’re already-“

“y/n” he sterns

a large sigh escapes you “yes I ate. I don’t like to argue with my husband when he gets off work”

he smiles now “atta girl” he mutters, leaning in to kiss your lips. you meet him with ease, melting into the feeling of what you both call home.

“I missed you” you mumble, pouting

frank shakes his head, amused “I missed you too honey”

your pout fades and a smile beams your features

he continues, "I'll eat on one condition”

your eyes widen “and what would that be”

“if after, we can just hold each other for the rest of the night” he smirks

you pretend to look at a watch on your wrist “dunno. have to see if it fits into tonight schedule”

frank glares as he makes his way to the fridge “very funny”

your chest gently fell— up and down, up and down. clashing with Frank's same movements in unity.

there was a comfortable silence, but a loud presence that spoke “this is all we’ll ever need”

“frank” you whisper, tracing his bicep—not in any sort of way, just admiring him

“hm?”

“I love you, I hope tomorrow is better”

he gently shuffles, grabbing the side of your face to meet his gaze

"I love you. Any day that I get to come home to you is a great one, okay baby?” he smiles to seal the deal

and you smile back “guess you’ll always have great days then”

“guess I will”

you lay your head on his chest once more, as he strokes your back. There was no place either of you would rather be at 1am.

[diilfluvrr]

𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑺 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑨 𝑩𝑰𝑻𝑬

frank langdon x vampire!fem!reader

summary: frank is mesmerized by a mysterious woman in his life. little does he know there’s more than he thought beneath the surface.

word count: 3.2k (jesus fucking christ)

warnings: no use of y/n, very vague reader description, talks about blood, blood drinking (not outwardly but its implied), talks and descriptions of deaths, mention of a drug overdose (neither reader or frank), medical inaccuracies, ooc robby and dana (yes ik they wouldn't be that dismissive irl so like work with me)

frank masterlist - main masterlist - request a fic!

a/n: happy (early) halloween!! for legal reasons (this fic) abby doesn’t exist (sorry girl). also if you get where the title is from come here so i can kiss you. this fic really got away from me LMAO it’s sooo much longer than i planned but oh well. i unforch don’t know much about vampires so i had to research, i apologize in advance for any incorrect lore

reminder: this is an 18+ blog, minors PLEASE dni!

frank finds it odd that he never sees you during the day, but he supposes it’s not too bizarre. after all, he once heard jack say he thrives in the darkness. he assumes you’re the same way, and decides not to dwell on it much longer. he doesn’t think about how you never come in right away, always waiting for his verbal permission. he chalks it up to you being raised to respect others’ spaces. he certainly doesn’t think about how your canines happen to shine when you smile, the usually dull teeth seeming sharper between your red lips. (okay, maybe he does think about it, but only when he’s alone with his right hand.)

he remembers the first time he saw you. his shift at PTMC that day had been brutal. his body ached, and he was thankful he had the next three days off and to himself. he meanders towards a bar, not too far from his place, in hopes to forget the horrors of the day, but freezes when he sees you. his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his throat. your hair flowed lightly in the soft breeze as you leaned against the brick wall towards the entrance. you smile at him, your teeth a stark contrast to the dark lipstick staining your lips. he sends you one in return, and begins to make his way towards you, before being thrown off his plan. a tall man approaches you and kisses your cheek and he watches as the two of you make your way into the bar. his stomach turns and suddenly he no longer has any interest in being anywhere but home.

he trudges along, finally reaching his apartment building. he can’t help but think of how pretty you looked as he slides his key in the lock, pushing the door open to his empty quarters. he sighs and drops his stuff down, closing the door and making his way to the kitchen. he thinks about your eyes as he grabs a beer, popping the top off and flopping on his couch. he sighs to himself, shaking the memory of you away as he flips through the channels, landing on a mind numbing drama.

he doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he remembers waking up, beer sitting in a pool of condensation on his coffee table. frank groans and sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he reaches for the remote. he pauses when he hears what’s on, a breaking news story from last night. instead, he turns the volume up and pays attention. “twenty year old male found dead outside of Patty Go Easy late last night. reports say he was found with a gash in his neck and bled out. no witnesses or suspects are reported at this time.” frank’s heart plummets as they show an i.d. of the victim. it’s the man you were with when he saw you. he continues to listen for any mention of you, unfortunately his nerves were not settled. he lurches forward and shuts the tv off, hoping you’re okay.

frank doesn’t see you for a few months, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about you. dana constantly ribs him for being lost in thought, but he just brushes her off. he wasn’t sure how to explain it if he tried. he yawns as he finishes his charts for the day, grateful that his watch reads 6:50pm. his attention is soon drawn to the emergency room entrance though, someone busting through the door.

“someone! please! my friend was brought here. i need to be with him!” you yell, catching everyone’s attention. frank freezes for a moment, mesmerized by you before he snaps out of it and rushes over to you. “hey, hey. it’s okay. i need you to calm down and tell me his name okay?” he says, his large hand resting against your shoulder. you nod, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. “ryan. his name is ryan watson. he’s twenty three years old. please.” you plead with him. frank nods and turns to check the board before turning back. “he’s in room seventeen. follow me.” his hand remains on your shoulder, guiding you to your friend.

you enter the room, your brows practically fusing together as your eyes water. “oh ry…” you say softly, rushing over to his bedside. the sight of him connected to so many tubes and wires makes your heart ache. frank stands there, watching you for a moment before he slips out the door. he wanders back over to the hub, seeing robby sitting down. he leans against the desk, looking at you through the window. “hey, there’s a visitor for south seventeen. i didn’t tell her anything, figured you should do it.” robby looks up and follows franks eyes, seeing you hunched over ryan’s bedside. he hums softly, standing up and patting frank’s shoulder. “thanks. i got it. why don’t you report and then head on out. i’ll see you tomorrow.” frank doesn’t respond before the older man leaves, going to break the difficult news to you.

frank finds the night shift doctor taking his place, rushing through his report before grabbing his water bottle. he glances towards ryan’s room and sees you gasp, covering your mouth as you sob. robby steps closer and rubs your back, trying his best to console you. frank feels his heart ache for you, losing someone close is never easy. he lets out a soft sigh, shaking his head before he heads towards his locker. he collects his things, noticing his missing badge. he checks around in his bag for it, disgruntled at the minor inconvenience. frank lets out a soft sigh, slinging his bag over his shoulder before making his way back to the hub, spotting it on the counter closest to south seventeen. he snags it and chews on his lip as he glances one last time at you, before ultimately heading home.

a week passes before he thinks of you again, his leg is bouncing as he charts. dana rests her hands on his shoulder, grabbing his attention quietly. he turns to give her some smart-ass comment before seeing another woman with her. “frank, this is mrs. watson. you treated her son ryan.” frank nods, standing up and shaking her hand as dana walks away. “ma’am, i am so very sorry for your loss. we did everything we could to save your son.” she nods, smiling sadly at him. “i know dear. i wanted to thank you for your efforts. ryan he-he was such a kind boy… it kills me to know he died bleeding out…” she says, sniffling softly.

frank’s eyebrows knit together as he stares at her in confusion. “uh, bleeding out?” he asks, and she just nods. “yes, the coroner contacted my husband and i. said his cause of death was an internal bleed, not the brain stem.” he takes a moment, the information swirling in his brain. “well, i’m sure you folks are busy. i should get going. thank you again for your efforts with my boy.” she says, before leaving the emergency room.

he stands there for a moment, his leg twitching as robby walks by. “hey! robby! wait up.” robby pauses mid step, turning to look at frank. “you remember that fent overdose last week? the one in south seventeen?” he takes a moment, mentally going through his mental patient files. “uh, yes. why? what’s up?” robby asks. “his mom just came in, and she mentioned his cause of death was internal bleeding, not a brain stem death.” robby’s brows furrow for a moment, staring at him. “internal bleeding? he didn’t have bleeding of any kind on any scans we took.” robby notes. frank fidgets with the bracelet on his wrist before continuing. “she said that’s what the coroner told her.”

“ah. they probably caught something we didn’t then. i wouldn’t worry too much about it kid. now, i believe there is a pedes case waiting for you.” robby says, patting frank’s shoulder before walking off. frank does his best to forget about the mixed information as he continues his day, but a nagging feeling in his gut prevents him.

frank is unable to shake the feeling for the rest of the day, and he decides to investigate further. he goes into ryan’s medical records during some downtime, to see that the cause of death was edited under his name. confusion nestles into his brain as he scans through the file. "Official Cause of Death: Internal Occipital Lobe Brain Bleed." frank closes out of ryan's file, turning the computer off and deciding to make his way to the hospital morgue.

he knocks on the office door lightly, opening the door to be greeted with the hospital coroner. "good afternoon doctor, what can i do for you?" frank does his best to smile nonchalantly as he speaks. "i was wondering if i could see the report for Ryan Watson?" the coroner hums, thumbing through a stack of papers. he hands frank the report, and he takes it, reading through it curiously. "and uh, who authorized this report?" he asks, looking up from the report. the older gentleman glances at frank, his brows furrowed. "Dr. Bàthory came down and verbally reported the change. She said there was two small punctures in the occipital lobe which caused the brain to bleed." franks eyebrows furrow as he listens. "right, well, uh thank you." he says, handing the report back to him and quickly leaving the chilly room.

frank rushes towards the hub, his heart racing as his legs work faster than usual. he spots dana and flags her down. "hey! uh, is there a Dr. Bàthory that works here?" he asks, trying to act as normal as he possibly can. dana pauses for a moment, thinking before she responds. "not on first, why? what's got you all in a rush?" he lets out a breathy laugh, shrugging. "oh, nothing really. the coroner downstairs mentioned that a Dr. Bàthory had made changes to a patient's report." dana stares at him for a moment, leaning against the tall counter of the hub.

"and why exactly were you down with the coroner detective?" she teases. frank's eyes go wide for a moment and he shakes his head. "just uh, just trying to get some clarification on something." she observes him for a moment, and he fears she sees right through him. she doesn't, just shrugs before turning towards the board. "they might be one of abbot's crew on second. i wouldn't worry your pretty head about it for too long. looks like you were due in north four about five minutes ago hot shot." frank's eyes widen as he mumbles an "oh shit" before rushing over, the abnormal report change getting lost in his mind for the rest of his shift.

you don't cross frank's mind for a month until you cross paths again. he's sitting at Patty Go Easy, nursing a beer when he feels you take the stool next to him. "evening doctor." you say, the words smoothly falling from your cherry red lips. he turns to look at you, a soft smile on his lips. "hey, you uh, you look really familiar." you shrug, catching the bartender's attention to order a drink before turning back to frank. "guess i have one of those faces... i'm only kidding. we met at the hospital, my friend was admitted." he smiles softly at your teasing, nodding as he finally remembers you. "that's right. i'm sorry about your loss by the way." you smile softly, shrugging gently as the bartender slides a bloody mary your way. "thank you. anyways, how are you? you look good." you smile as you take a sip, watching as his cheeks grow pink. "i'm good, thanks. you uh, you look really good." you bite your lip, your teeth practically gleaming in the dim bar lighting. "why thank you frank." he doesn't remember telling you his name, but he shakes the feeling off, too wrapped up in your presence to care.

the conversation flows nicely for a while, until you hear your name being called out from behind you. you pause, turning to look at your unimpressed friend. "hello?? you've been gone 'getting a drink' for an hour now!" she now stands next to you, looking at frank. "oh! hello, i uh, i didn't realize she was preoccupied." frank just laughs, shaking his head. "thats my fault, i didn't realize she wasn't here alone. i'm frank." he holds his hand out for her, getting a bashful smile in return. "mackenzie. we're out on a girl's night, but if you'd rather steal her..." she trails off, looking between the two of you. frank just shakes his head, leaning against the bar. "oh, sorry, you can have her back now." he smiles, feeling slightly disappointed.

you laugh softly, stealing one of the bartender's pens and scribbling something down on a napkin before sliding it over to him. "you should come over friday. after your shift, of course." the disappointment fading as quickly as it materialized, frank tucks the napkin in his pocket and grins at you. "sounds like a plan pretty girl." you grab your drink, hopping off the stool and kissing his cheek, leaving a faint red mark on his face. "sounds like a date then handsome." he doesn't get a chance to respond before you grab mackenzie's hand, whisking the two of you further into the bar and into the night.

friday night rolls around and frank finds himself at the closed door to your apartment. he stands there a moment, his palms sweaty before wiping them on his jeans. with a shaky hand, he knocks on the door quietly. he only waits a moment, before the door opens to reveal you. a soft smile dances on your lips as you greet him. "hey you. you look good." he blushes softly, his sweater covered shoulders shrugging gently. "thanks." you step to the side, allowing him a view of your dim apartment.

he accepts your silent invitation, the soft reds of your apartment walls welcoming him to your space. frank smiles as he takes his shoes and coat off, taking care of them. he notices a glass of what seems to be burgundy on the kitchen island and smile. “you drink wine?” you look back, biting your lip when you nod. “occasionally. want one?” he nods and follows you, his brows furrowing as you pour him a different wine. he can’t help himself from commenting, perching himself on a stool. “they’re different.” you just hum. “mhmm. i have a particular taste, so i save that one for me.” you smile, your lips having a devilish intention. he nods and accepts your answer, reaching for the glass you’ve pushed his way.

he takes a sip, reveling in the rich taste as you move closer to him. "y'know, you've been on my mind all week." you speak softly, sweetness in your voice. frank's eyes go wide as he looks at you almost in disbelief. "i-really? me?" you nod, smiling at him. "yes you silly. you're so pretty. so sweet. taking up a lot of residence in that mind of mine." he laughs softly, looking down at his socked feet. a light sigh leaves your lips as your hand moves to grab his. your pinkies intertwine and you tug gently, leading him towards the living room. his free hand holds tightly to his wine glass as he follows, excitement thrumming in his veins. you take his glass from him, setting it down on a small side table before cupping his cheeks, bringing his lips down to yours. frank was never one to believe in all the cheesy romance crap, but he swears he feels fireworks going off in his stomach. you smile against his lips as you guide him to sit down, a cushy armchair awaiting his body. your lips continue to move in tandem for just a moment longer as he relaxes completely. a soft sigh escapes your lips as you pull away, licking your lips gently. "stay here for a minute, m'kay?" frank just nods dumbly and you chuckle. "good boy."

you excuse yourself, making your way to the bathroom to freshen up. frank is sat in the cozy armchair, enjoying the glass of wine from before. he can't help his wandering eyes, admiring the living room decor when he notices a small leather-bound book on the coffee table. he basks in the warmth of the fireplace for a moment, before leaning forward to look at it, running his fingers over the delicate gold lettering on the cover. “E.B.” his brows furrow as he ponders what it could mean. your initials weren’t E.B. his curiosity gets the better of him and he decides to flip through it, the first page containing a intricate illustration of a heart. he smiles to himself, finding the drawing cute, but the smile soon fades into confusion as he flips to the next page. a list of names lie on the page, dated 1598. his brows furrow as he reads a name from the list.

“Imre Megyery; 2L”

frank’s confusion grows as the list continues, all random names with a similar ending, ranging anywhere from “1L” to “5L”. his heart starts racing as he flips towards the end of the book, dated 2025. he sees seven names listed, the last one causing his hands to shake.

“Taylor Johnson; 3L”

“Alonia Shane; 2L”

“Travis McCreery; 5L”

“Ryan Watson; 5L”

“MacKenzie Martin; 4L”

“Frank Langdon”

he feels himself panic, his heart racing as he drops the book down. why was he there? what did this book mean? who were these people in relation to you? frank is too busy rushing around trying to find his shoes to notice you had returned, eyeing the opened journal annoyedly. he doesn’t hear you creep over to him, clumsily pulling his boots on. and he sure as hell doesn’t hear you grab the soot pan, but he knows he feels it as it collides with his skull.

franks eyes blinks open weakly, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. he tries to move, but he finds his efforts futile, his arms and legs bound to what he assumes a large board. he thinks about you as he lies there, tied up. he doesn’t remember how he got here, nor does he recognize his surroundings, and he starts to wonder where you are, but he hears your soft voice, and it cuts through the air like a heavy blade. “oh frank. didn’t your mother ever teach you to stay out of other people’s business?” he hears your footsteps as you make your way over, finally coming into his line of sight.

“such a shame. i really liked you too.” your voice settles in his stomach, fear twisting in his gut as you cover his eyes with a cloth. he feels your thumb trace over his jugular, pressing against it for a moment before he no longer feels you at all. he tries to force himself to think about anything else, but in his final moments, all that clouds his thoughts, is you.

a/n p2: hi! i hope you enjoyed this fic lol. the journal of “e.b.” belonged to “elizabeth bàthory”, a historic woman believe to be the first vampire as she murdered young women and bathed in their blood to maintain her youth. you can read more about her here!

divider creds: lace and sparkles @cursed-carmine, mdni @sylusz