Nails Done | Jack Abbot- The Pitt. Fluff, light spice.
The Chronicles of a Touchstarved Genius and his Coworker | Spencer Reid- Criminal Minds. Fluff.
Spencer- youâre closest friend- grows comfortable to show affection. To you. Like, strictly to you. Not in a weird way (very endearing, actually) because he doesnât realize it.
Nom-Nom | Tobias Eaton- Divergent. Fluff, Sexual Implications
Synopsis. Frank Castle & âPerson A hugs Person B so tight they lose their breathâ
Warnings. Short, unedited.
With a cautious step you stood chest to chest with Frank. His arms tremored lightly as you rested your hand against his bicep, feeling the bulk of his blood and muscle and body. âItâs okay,â you murmur, letting your other hand gently take the back of Frankâs hand and place it on your hip.
Swallowing deeply, Frank slowly lowered his head to rest against your own. His eyelashes fluttered and his eyebrows knitted as Frankâs eyes darted from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes. In his anticipation and hesitation, Frank moved his forhead up and down once against your own, exhaling shakily.
âFrank,â you whispered again, bringing your hand to stroke the back of his thick neck. âCâmere,â you said finally, lifting your arms to wrap them gingerly around his shoulders.
Frankâs resolve snapped in half in a way synonymous to a dry penne noodle crushed by that extra bit of weight of enamelled teeth squeezing and gnashing until the once perfect noodle is turned to a saliva-noodle paste. Frankâs arms wrapped around your waist as quickly as physically possible, drawing you from the ground and into his chest. The sheer strength Frank used to hold you to himself was enough to draw the air from your lungs and [revent your diaphragm from fully expanding. Though this is not a thing you would ever complain about.
Your legs wrapped around Frankâs belted waist and your fingers spread against Frankâs neck and held tightly to his hair while his firm grip only tightened. Frankâs fingers dug comfortably into your clothesâleaning into your warmth, your emotion, your trust. Frank felt wetness drip from his eyes into the juncture of your neck and shoulder and couldnât find it in himself to care.
âI know,â you rasped, stroking the back of Frankâs neck. âIâm so sorry, Frank.â
Frank had dreamed of intamacy before, sex. He remembered how good it felt to feel those strictly physical feelings and how the produced endorphins took away every think he wanted to forget. This- this hug had done something entirely different for Frank.
Instead of forgetting everything he would hope to forgetâjust for a few secondsâFrank was acutely aware of everything. Frank remembered the pain from every punch and stab and gunshot wound and he also remembered the joy and laughter and camaraderie and love. Being alone for so longâisolating himselfâhad made him want to leave behind good on the chance that it just got taken away once more. This current contradiction of emotion, the non-sex emotional intamacy of this embrace was something Frank couldnât hoped not to have taken from him.
You almost chuckled. Truly, you nearly did. This battle-weary, PTSD ridden, remarkably caring man was the one that said âI donât need a hugâ five minutes prior.But you would not laughânot even chortleâat anyone showing you their emotion. You were actually thrilled that Frank let himself feel his own emotions and you were selfishly glad that you made Frank feel comfortable enough to do that.
Maybe love and pain can coexist. Maybe love doesnât have to be outshined by pain. Maybe there will be hope that will come again after being lost.
Im so upset i literally asked a mutual what animal i would be forever ago and they answered black lab (i think?) and gave a whole poetic reason why and i cant find it im so now im actually upset
Synopsis: a night with Robby and your new family addition! :p
Warnings: sarcasm, foul language, fluffy fluff, possible out of character robby
Sometimes Robby didnât want to sleep.
This, of course, was a problem. Seeing as he was a fully grown man who worked positively grueling hours on his feet for days on end, you can see how this was a problem. Finding sleep was an issue to begin with, but just not wanting to sleep was pretty moronic of him.
Itâs not like he could really help it though: you always smelled like something bakedâa far cry from the smell of iron and deathâ and had a small smile on your faceâstark contrast to the understandably scowling faces in the EDâ as well as a pair of observing eyes (youâd think that actual legally recognized medical professionals would be able to observe things better than the average person, but Robby would probably raise an eyebrow if you said that near him) that always identified a lie or softened with a harsh truth.
With all these lovable traits that Robby wanted all to himself, he felt like sleeping around you was one of the least productive things he could do. Obviously he knew that such thoughts were irrational, but it was hard to go to work, have your own 15 mental breakdowns, save a bunch of lives, deal with 75 other breakdowns, save more lives, and come home to the only thing that really reinvigorated him just to fall asleep without a decent conversation most days.
So here he was, slipping his arms around your waist to pull you onto his lap as you watched television. Dinner was made and eaten and you pulled Robby to the couch before he could complain about the dishes in the sink. Turning on the show the both of you were binging, your feet had originally been resting in your boyfriendâs lap. Clearly, though, that was not enough physical contact for the man, since he finally stopped staring at your side profile and actually pulled you onto him.
You leaned on him, both hands fiddling with the fingers attatched to a hand thatâd experienced more pain than you may ever comprehend. Robbyâs other arm was wrapped round your waist. His thumb slipped under the soft cotton of your (his) nightshirt and he started circling your skin with the ghosting touch of his thumb. Smelling like detergent and musk and home, your eyes started to droop.
A shrill squeak made your eyes shoot open. Chuckling shyly, you turn to Robby. Your smile turned even more shy when you found him already looking at you with that âwhat did you do?â expression. âHa! What, uh⊠what could that be?â It was comical the way your smile quivered as Robby's eyebrow lifted.
"y/n, I need you to tell me what that noise was?"
Standing up slowly, you smile sheepishly at your fiance. "Okay. I'm just telling you right now I literally am not taking him back. He's so sweet and so little and you couldn't take him away from me even if I was dead." You stalk over to the spare room, cooing softly as you bend down and meet the little kitten at the door.
Robby's eyes close and he leans his head back against the couch when you walk out with the cat in your arms. The little thing is complacent in your arms: staring up at you and pawing at your shirt (no doubt melting your heart even more) and making soft purrs that probably vibrate his whole tiny body. "Oh boy," he murmurs to himself, watching your sweetly smiling face as you near him.
"I hope you're not mad," you start, curling against Robby with your arms still cradling the little creature. "But if you are... unfortunately you will just have to get over it." All of this is said by you speaking in a baby voice as you wiggle your fingers for the dark brown cat to paw at. It's a sight that actually manages to bring a smile to Robby's face.
"What's the cat's name?" Robby asked gently, letting his head fall against yours.
You giggled mischievously, shaking Robby's arm with the sheer force of your laughter. "Monkey. He kept jumping on your stuff and pushing it and his tail curls like a monkey," you explain. "It's so dumb but he's just so cute."
Robby's arm wrapped around your shoulder, letting his eyes get heavy as he watches you pet Monkey's belly. Maybe it's the domesticity, maybe it's you. Maybe it's the long day Robby just washed off of him or even the new addition to the family. But for once Michael Robinavitch let's himself fall asleep on you.
Insane tmi alert but i literally used my vibrator for the fourth time and i literally was so wet that now my bed is wet
Unclear as to if thats like good? Can any virgin vagina carriers twll me if thats normal? I literally do not remember the last time I masturbated that good and that happened
If your requests are open, could you write a college AU with Richie x male reader?
Basically, Richie is totally failing a class because he spends every lecture trying to make the reader laugh instead of actually paying attention. (Which reader calls him out always in the moment, little comments like âur gonna fail if u keep talking, beep beepâ
The reader finally gets fed up w his bs and drags Richie back to his apartment for a late-night study session. Iâd love loads of cozy fluffâjust them sitting on the floor surrounded by textbooks, eating messy takeout, and Richie being his usual chaotic self and trying to steal the reader's pens. But as it gets super late, Richie finally shuts up and gets really quiet. He drops the "trashmouth" act for a second and uses a dumb joke to confess that he actually likes the reader. It ends with a really sweet first kiss on the apartment floor.
Tysm for reading this, hope you like the idea, feel free to take anything out or add anything in and if ur not interested in writing js ignore! Tysm :3
- đȘđ
SHUT UPP THIS IS ADORABLE. YES i will absolutely write this! Canât promise it will be SOON, but it will be done! Thank you sososos much for the request!!
The Chronicles of a Touchstarved Genius and his Coworker
â Spencer- your closest friend- grows comfortable to show affection. To you. Like, strictly to you. Not in a weird way (very endearing, actually) because he doesnât realize it.
â I love my sweetie baby. I just want to protect my little boy from all the evil in the world and keep him locked up in my basement. Anyway; I hope you like this because im drafting a second part.
â navigation.
Youâd think that the infamous genius- that happened to be a germaphobe- Spencer Reid was not a clinger. But that, folks, is not true.
It started small, like this:
You and Spencer have always got along swimmingly: challenging each other to chess, offering pointers on case notes, book recommendations, and even taking the other to coffee or dinner if they reacted particularly negatively to a case.
The pair of you got along so well that you didnât think anything of Spencerâs uncanny habit to show up where you were. That, and he did tend to follow you to⊠hell, everywhere.
He was constantly in-step with you whenever you were on the cusp of a breakthrough, interviewing witnesses, and sliding into the passenger seat of your car when you were ordered by Hotch to take twenty minutes to clear your head (since you had a horrible habit of working yourself to metaphorical death).
Usually Spencer went on a spiel about something you mentioned earlier, occupying the car with a comfortable voice. He had recognized that your agitation in complete silence multiplied compared to a voice that (Spencer trained to be) soothing to you. In other words, Spencer had become your white noise machine when you were on time-out and he felt good about being relied on for more than just paperwork and statistics.
And when your twenty minutes up or when you had recuperated enough to engage with what Spencer was saying, he would tilt his head and say something like âyouâre doing what you can, y/n. I know you are hard on yourself but believe me when I say that this team is proud of everything youâve done and everything you are.â Then Spencer would wait until you nodded solemnly at him to get out and walk to your side of the car slowly so you could wipe away your tears- if you had any trailing down your cheeks- and open your door.
Gradually, Spencerâs acts of service to you became more than just being present.Â
Itâs kind of ironic that I write that because Spencer did take to leaving you a present nearly every week. Not anything super duper crazy, but a donut in a neat container on your desk, your favorite coffee from your favorite coffee shop, a CD from that band you like because it was on sale, or even a fresh copy of a book youâve mentioned eyeing.
If you were to ask me this is Spencerâs way of thanking you for always offering him that bottle of hand sanitizer you have in your pocket, offering him that little bag of disinfectant wipes whenever Spencerâs lips downturned, and being one of his best friends and confidants over the years.
But I think in the back of his mind, Spencer just wanted to feel worthy of the acts and affection you had given to him even before getting close.
All of these things, the wordless âI see youâ in every cup of coffee, the constant supporting presence Spencer offered when the world was a little too much at once, and the murmured âI know an Indian place thatâs open lateâ when heâs the only other person awake on the plane had been the most affection that Spencer had grown fond of-Â to look forward to.
And every single unphysical act of affection had led to now. Something small to you- the reader who may not completely know who Spencer is and know his quirks- but something groundbreaking to the team nonetheless. An intentional touch from Spencer meant you were clean, safe. Some (read: me. I would.) would say that meant⊠home.
But Spencer letting you sleep on him? Your skin on his own? Unthinkable, right? Ha! Wrong. Indeed, you were dozed on Spencerâs shoulder with his own head resting over yours: intentionally. Spencer did not simply fall asleep while touching another human and the fact that he let you rest on him- let alone fall asleep himself on youâŠ
Morgan, bless him, had to watch the scene for a full six minutes before taking a picture and slapping J.J.âs arm without looking from you and Spencer. Now, Derek was not blind. He had seen how Spencerâs own smile grew just a touch when your face lit up at the coffee on your desk and how Spencerâs emotions were uncannily receptive to yours. Yes, his homeboy had a crush.
Up until now Derek thought nothing would happen with the way Spencer acted but after seeing you sleeping peacefully on Spencerâs shoulder, Derek was so proud of Spencer Derek may have made that picture his ownwallpaper.
Thank you!! This is actually a style of writing I donât lean towards very oftenâ Iâm more of an omniescent authorâbut I like to dabble in difference when the time calls for it :)
hey. dont cry. big beefy bucky working outside with his shirt off in your country home for you and only you to see his musclesâŠ. nsfw ending!!
Going outside to do⊠something. Chores like watering plants or something quickly fell completely out of your mind when you saw your absolutely breathtaking hunk of a husband: shirt off, pants secured with a belt that was hanging slightly off his hips (having tight jeans in this heat? hell no.), and hair askew atop his head. Ho-ly hell.
You wandered forward, leaning your arms against the deck railing to see Bucky working slightly below you. He was doing miscellaneous workâweed pulling, keeping the rocks in the siding of the house, stuff like thatâbut he made that work look better than a Magic Mike show. His hips swayed a little when he walked (heâd gained a little sashay over the years you got married) and you loved that because you got to see his shoulder muscles flex with every movement of his thick arms. He hadnât seen you yet (or just hadnât looked uo) so you coult ogle at that line of muscle that went from the side of his hips to his pelvis, forming a deliciously lickable âVâ under his abs.
âIf you want to take your pants off you can,â you suggested slyly. Buckyâs head came up with a smile already on his face. How the hell were his teeth so⊠perfect?
Bucky tilted his head and shrugged, hands resting on his hips. âIs that what the Mrs. wants?â
âNot like any neighbors could complain about public nudityâŠâ you say happily, watching Buckyâs huge back move and flex and pull and relax and work as he turned to walk up the steps to meet you. Walking up the stairs, he caught your eyes again, one eye squinted from the sheer brightness of the sun, the other wiping sweat from his forhead.
Stalking close to you, his large hands rested on the back of your hips. âNot sure I want to take the chance of you gettinâ burnt out here, doll,â he murmured, looking at you through bright eyes.
âMaybe we oughtta take in inside then,â you suggest, hooking your fingertips on Buckyâs belt. âGet you something to eat and drink.â
Bucky chuckles, touching his nose to yours in a familiarly endearing manner. âAll I need is in my hands.â
So thats how you ended up being eaten out in the kitchen and in the shower, boned in the bed, and then eaten again after dinner.
Fifteen Pizzas and Three Movies âź Harrison Wells (EoWells)
Synopsis: Movie night at Readerâs house! You fall asleep on your boss. Aww!
Warnings: short, little plot. Rich/Wealthy!Reader. Readerâs got some rambling issues, but itâs cute. Soft Eobard. Possible OOC!EoWells. Comfort fic kind. Idk.
Authorâs Introspective Musings: i love this man guys. Ugh. âA speed mirage, if you will.â I WILL. PLEADR I WILL. I WILL DO WHAT U WANT. I WILL BE WHO YOU WANT. Wow. Just wow. #needthat. Please enjoy!!
When you insisted on a movie night, you hadnât considered that the night would have ended with Harrison Wellsâyour manager, employer, bossâ letting you fall asleep with your arm looped in his and your cheek on his shoulder.
Let me reverse this timeline a little bitâŠ
ââDoc, lets be real,â you cut in Harrisonâs hesitant refusal to go to your house with the rest of Team Flash. âAn awesome night of watching movies with the next smartest mindsâyours naturally being the firstâin the city certainly beats your alternative. Besides, itâs not like we do this frequently, so you kind of have to take this oppourtunity to be with us!â
Harrison shook his head and chuckled at your spiel, finding not enough strength to turn you down again. âWellâŠâ
From behind him, Barry jumped around in silent celebration. Cisco had bet him five dollars Wells would not agree.
The drive to your house made you anxious: nervous excitement in your stomach at the fact that youâd successfully gotten your unshakable boss to agree to a meeting outside of work with now work related things going on in your private residence, without a thought of work. Cisco excitedly asked you how long you had your âfancy ass houseâ and why you kept it a secret for so long, Caitlyn smacking his arm halfway through.
âWhat Cisco means to say⊠is why you havenât had us over sooner?â Caitlyn says politely, making Barry laugh as he swings an arm around your shoulder.
You shrug. âI guess I never really thought people would want to hang out with me. Is that Wellsâs car? Barry can you help me get him up the steps?â When Barry nods, you unlock and push open the door for Cait and Cisco. âFeel free to explore,â you said, seeing Ciscoâs eyes widen.
Barry chuckles as Cisco and Caitlyn chatter excited as you go out to Wellsâs car. âItâs really nice that youâre doing this. Itâs good to be around everyone when itâs notâŠâ Barry trails off, searching.
âA dire situation?â You offer.
Nodding, Barry smiles. âA dire situation.â
âHey Doc,â you greet him as he opens the passenger seat.
He nods his greeting. âWheelchairâs in the trunk.â Barry retrieves the mobile chair, places the Doctor in it, and wheels it up to your house in the blink of an eye. You laugh and raise a hand in greeting to the awed driver.
âThank you for having us,â Wells tells you, turning to see everything in your house. âTruly kind of you.â
You nod, a smile on your face. âI wouldnât ask if I didnât want you here.â Harrisonâs eyes fall on yours suddenly. An unspoken depth in his eyes trap you, holding you and examining your atoms at their barest form and holding your heart in his hands. His head tilts slightly and his lips quirk. He knows you struggle with eye contact yet he doesnât let you look away with all that emotion in his eyes.
âSo! What movie are we watching?â Cisco asks. âObviously Iâd like some Sci-Fi to narrate and correct any mistakes made in the storyline, but I could also go for a Rom Com or unknown indie film. Iâve stalked your letterboxd enough to know you have a good taste in movies!â
You turn your head to see Cisco and feel the weight of Harrisonâs gaze on you. Swallowing, you move to follow him to your massive living area. âWhat does everyone want to watch? Iâm down for whatever.â
âThe Notebook,â Caitlyn says solemnly at the same time Barry says ânothing sadâ. Caitlynâs face falls. âI never got to see it in theaters and this is the next biggest screen Iâve ever seenâŠâ
âYou can come and watch it on here another day if you want,â you offer. âDoc? What do you want?â
âIâm partial to almost anything. Choose away, y/n.â
You sigh. âI donât like picking.â
Half an hour later, you finally choose a science fiction movie that appeals to everyone and order seventeen pizzas to be delivered within the hour. After coming back in from the kitchen after ordering, you see Harrisonâs back, sitting quietly in his chair when everyone else was splayed on your couch.
âDo you want to sit on the couch?â You murmur quietly to Wells.
He looks up to you, watching him from your spot perched on the couch, waiting for him to say yes. âItâs⊠no issue here.â
Your eyebrows furrow. âAre you sure?â
âDo you want me to sit by you?â
Another moment. You were nodding, finding your anxiety resurface as Wells unlocked his wheels and scooted towards you. Slowly, quietly, he transferred himself to the spot beside you, a solid foot of space between you.
He eased his shoes off and placed them on his chair for later and you felt a swell of emotion in your chest. Wells making himself more comfortable in your space was a reward you didnât know what you did to earn.
A comfortable silence filled the room except for when Cisco guffawed loudly at stupid jokes or when Caitlyn giggled at something ironic happening to the main character or when Barry inevitably spoke up about the scientific observation of evidence being non-lifelike. You found yourself listening to Harrisonâs exhaling laughter at perfectly timed puns and then realized you werenât actually watching the movie.
When the doorbell rang, you let the movie play as you headed toward the door to retrieve the goods. âBarry!â You called from the kitchen. âCome get your fifteen pizzas!â
In the blink of an eye, you had two pizzas in your hand, a couple paper plates, and napkins in your arms in the middle of the living room. You chuckled as Barry paused so you could get everyone their food.
When you settled back down, you found yourself a little closer to Harrison than earlier. You hadnât moved, so that must mean⊠he moved. Closer. To you. You chose not to read into it.
âIs there a sequel? Iâll check,â Cisco asked as soon as the last scene started to fade to black. You chortled, standing up to retrieve your favorite chunky-knit blanket from the blanket rack leaning against the wall.
âCan I also have a blanket?â Caitlyn spoke cautiously. âPreferably a thinner one?â
You grabbed your thinnest blanket and placed the fabric in Caitlynâs lap. She gave you a thankful smile. You saw her toss the long fabric across Barry and Ciscoâs lap, worrying over them like the lovely person she is.
âDid youââ you began to ask Harrison.
âNo, thank you. Iâm okay right now,â he said.
There was a sequel to the movie that Cisco had pleaded to watch. After reaching a common consensus, you played the second movie with the next movie being a happy ending romantic movie (courtesy of Caitlyn⊠and a little Barry.).
Your eyes began to feel heavy about quarter of the way into the movie, the cold atmosphere you thrived in assisting in making you drowsy.
The dim lights gave Harrison the chance to slip closer to you as you fell further asleep. His arm was touching your own through your blanket, head resting between his shoulder and the back of your couch.
Harrison viewed this as an experiment: how much physical contact could he establish with you before you woke up and moved away? After a solid fifteen minutes passed, he pulled the blanket from your arm and pulled it around him so you were both covered. When he did that, you heaved a sigh and unconciously readjusted your head so that it was resting entirely against his shoulder. The warmth in his chest was satisfaction at reaching a new milestone in his experiment, not happiness at you being comfortable around him in your barest state: sleep.
After adjusting his glasses, Harrison reached his arm under the blanket. He watched you from the corner of his eye and discovered you were a heat seeking vessel: leaning closely against him and bringing the blanket closer to you. Eventually, you even wrapped your arm around Harrisonâs, bringing it close to your chest in resemblance of a child holding their favorite stuffed animal to ease them to sleep. Harrison had it bad.
âSleep well,â Harrison murmured against your head, resting his head against your own.
You woke up to a new movie, a comedy, being played on your T.V. Swallowing, your eyes blinked sleepily as you tried to understand why you were pleasantly warm and smelling a very intoxicating cologne. Tight knitted black shoulders led to a familiar face and loose curls. âHello again,â murmured an amused voice. Your lips flattened against your teeth in an embarrassed grimace. You looked down at where you were leaning almost entirely into him (at this point⊠you may as well have been sitting on his lap⊠[as if you would complain about that. Ha!]) and became acutely aware of his unfamiliarly warm elbow linked with your own under the blanket. From an outsiderâs perspective it would undoubtedly be considered cuddling.
âIâm so sorry,â you rasped sleepily, leaning back to stretch and find solace from Wellsâs soft eyes. Your arm muscles tightened in rigor as they reached behind your head and your legs spasmed as you stretched them out in front of you. Sparing a glance at the trio on the other side of the couch, you took in Barryâs sleeping form and Caitlynâs eyesâhooded witg exhaustionâand chuckled at the two tired adults compared to Cisco watching the screen intently. You sigh after checking your watch and say âI didnât realize it was this late.â
Eobard was thankful when you finally met his gaze again, imploring silently to see those glittering glimpses to your emotion and soul- your humanity. âI selfishly enjoyed the closeness. You donât need to apologize for falling asleep,â he admits.
Your eyebrows knit at his words. âThatâs something I can overthink tomorrow,â you say finally, a yawn sending your head to hit the back of the couch. Sighing againâthis time from contentmentâyour head conciously falls to Harrisonâs shoulder.
Authorâs Introspective Musings: wheb i say i have thought about tom cavanagh for the past 72837 hours, understand and believe this statement to be true. I NEED HIM!!
âI know you donât want company on Christmas,â you greeted quickly, âso⊠Iâm here on Christmas because I donât want you to not have company on Christmas.â
In front of you, in his wheelchair, Dr. Wells blinked. His lips twitched. He wasnât expecting thisâyou: taking initiative to disregard his previous statement in the hopes of being a positive moment in the blur of other moments. âI- Thatâs⊠certainly kind of you.â
You nodded briefly before rummaging through your bag (a very vintage thing, an accessory Wells had never seen you without). âIâm going to be completely honest, I wasnât entirely sure what to get you, so I made you something with the human hope that you understand I made this with the intention that you would see I put in effort, therefore the item should hold at least a miniscule amount of sentimental value to you-â
âY/n,â Dr. Wells cut in, a gentle firmness in his voice he unconsciously reserved for your interactions. âI see sentiment in almost everything you do for people. I can assure you this is no different. Please come inside. Thereâs no reason to be standing outside and catching cold.â
You finally retrieved your wrapped package from your bag, following Dr. Wells as he led you into his home. Truthfully you were in awe at the size and layout of his house. You knew Wells had wealth but seeing it up close in a tangible fashion was different. He led you to the kitchen and motioned his head to a chair by his counter. âUh⊠here.â You handed your boss the package.
Harrison let his fingers brush against the cool-tempered wrapping paperâdark green background with snowflakesâand curled his pointer finger around the bowâlight blue (to match the snowflakes)âbefore looking back up to see your face. Wells had observed you long enough to identify the quiet anticipation in your raised eyebrows and shy smile.
Inside the package was a canvas. Mildly small, approximately a 10x8 painting of the selfie Cisco had insisted on taking. On the left was Cisco, upper teeth showing as his face tilted up with excitement. Barry was in the middle, caught mid laugh at his idea of taking the picture and then zooming back to be in the picture. Caitlyn stood on the right with a rare smile with teeth that hadnât been seen since the particle acceleratorâs failure. On the bottom, between Cisco and Barry was Dr. Wells, a quirk of his lips hiding his white teeth. Beside himâon one knee with her arm resting against Wellsâs armâstood you: a side smile at the antics that you took for granted.
You worked your teeth against your tongue, anxiously observing the way Dr. Wellsâs eyebrows went slack as he took in the painting. His fingertips brushed gently against the paint, feeling the smooth top coat. His tendons flexed under his skin, igniting the same fire that burned when you painted the pink of his lips. It wasnât your best work, but it definitely was praiseworthy (your tutor approved for once, saying that she was impressed at the emotion you managed to capture in the eyes).
âY/n, truly,â Wells began after swallowing thickly. âThis is beautiful. I knew you had an ability with the arts butâŠâ he shook his head, a thoughtful smirk playing on his lips as his brow quirked that signaled the contemplation crossing his mind, âthis is truly wonderful. Thank you. Thank you. I apologize⊠I didnât get you anything.â
The whooshing behind your ears dissipated as you exhaled with relief. âThank you, Dr. Your approval is enough.â Your familiar crooked smile made Harrison want to hold your face in his hands and kiss you until you passed out.
âNo, no. Itâs not. Donât worry, I will find you a belated Christmas gift.â
âUnnecessary,â you chortled, rising slowly. âI only wanted you to get your present and make sure you werenâtâI dunno, doing something irrational.â
Harrison watched the way you avoided his eye contact and knew then that he would protect you in a manor that surpassed his devotion to Barryâs future. âLet me escort you out.â
When you reached the door, Harrison paused. âOil on canvas or acrylic?â
Your face lit up at his question. âOil. It required patience my therapist says will be good for me. And I selfishly enjoy that I donât have to be paranoid about making sure my paints are closed and wonât dry out if I walk away for five minutes,â you say.
Noted. âUnderstandable,â Wells nods. âThank you for coming, y/n. It was⊠very nice to see you.â
Smiling, you didnât mention the fact that you saw each other every day at S.T.A.R. âYou too, Doc. Merry Christmas!â
Harrison waved, a true smile gracing his lips. âMerry Christmas, my dear,â he murmured as you got into your car.
ââbonus. đ
Your jaw dropped as you got a good luck at the box sitting on your desk. A brand of oil paintsâforeign and expensiveâsat waiting for your arrival. Shiny and new and calling your name. Excitement bloomed in your chest and head as you stepped forward closely.
Swallowing, you brushed your knuckle against the thin plastic layer around the box to secure itâs contents. Who would haveâŠ?
âMerry belated Christmas.â
Turning around, you saw Dr. Wellsâs gleaming smile waiting for you. His eyes held a kind of light you didnât frequently see. âThis is-â
Wells offered ânot enoughâ at the same time you stated âunnecessaryâ.
âDonât think about returning it. I want to be the first person you show when you create another masterpiece.â
Nodding, your eyes flickered between Wellsâs eyes, determination and finality etched into his retinas. âI understand, sir.â
I personally STRONGLY dislike when people make reader blush easily. Give me literally anytging else. Make them pick at their nails or grind their molars together or make their nose twitch or make their lips tighten or even make them shrink back into themselves. Iâm tired of âreader blushedâ and then ultimately being babied. I am not a baby and i feel like a lot of other readers are not.
This is not me attacking people that do this, obviously i have used the word blush in my fics. However, itâs more immersive and more entertaining and enjoyable to read about someone struggling with their feelings and therefor struggling to output those emotions.
Also letâs write more blue collar!reader and emotionally challenged!reader.
I adore your dad house fics and was hoping if you could write and imagine In which reader is pregnant and goes into labor and house leaves in the middle. Wilson and all the others are getting pissed at him thinking he left because he got scared or selfish or any kind of negative reason like that but reader refuses to listen and keeps saying he must have a reason and in the end he comes back right before the baby is born with some object thatâs really important to reader or maybe her parent or something or a wedding ring or some grand gesture that surprises everyone but the reader
Punctuality at itâs Finest
Synopsis: your water breaks! Instead of being the supportive husband the duckings (and Wilson) think he will be, he flees. This begs the questions: why did he leave and will he be back?
Warnings: pregnancy, water breaking, labor, possible medical inaccuracies. Mildly rushed.
Authorâs Extra Introspections: I⊠apologize. I struggle with writing for actual labor/pregnancies and I donât entirely know if I will do it again. We shall seeâŠ
It was a full hour since House had left: an hour of Foreman sneering at the door, an hour of Chase hunching into himself while you writhed as a human exited your body, an hour of Cameran letting you squeeze her hand, and an hour of Wilson calling Houseâs cellâunanswered.
You were deemed high-risk, and had a whole month until the due date was supposed to arrive. With that fact common knowledge, Allison felt a dull anger pressing in her sternum at her bossâs⊠avoidance. Who takes one look at their wife in a hospital room and turns on his heel to walk away? He hadnât even said a word to you, for Christâs sake.
Time felt like torture: a kind of pressure and pain and worry and pain that built up and mixed with the sweat dripping from your face. Nurses and the two doctors in the room coached you through, knowing you didnât want an epidural unless it was the last possible option available. âI canât- This is-â you sobbed, leaning back. âI canât do this!â
Wilsonâs hand tightened impossibly tight around his phone. The dial tone was practically drowned out by the sounds in the room but he strained to hear if Greg would pick up. He had just heard âyour call has been forwarded-â when another shriek came from you. Wilson crushed the phone as he came to your other side to take your hand. âDonât you dare say that, y/n,â Wilson said, brushing hair from your forhead as you squeezed your eyes in pain. Shooting a glance at Allison, he shook his head. From behind him, he heard Foremanâs long sigh.
âDamn, mama,â called the doctor. âBabyâs just about here! Youâre almost there, honey.â
You whined in agony, a vise hold on the hands in yours. âI canât do this shit!â
âNo choice, honey buns,â came the female doctorâs voice. âYou see that clock? It says 2:29. You can get this baby out by 3:00. Do you hear me? Weâre getting this baby out.â
Your teeth gritted as you pushed. âI canât,â you groaned, eyes closed in pain.
âLike hell you canât,â came a gruff voice. The sound of a thud made your eyes open. Your husband, cane discarded, limped over to you and shoved Wilson away. A wry smile pulled at his lips. âHey, trouble,â he greeted, leaning down to kiss your lips. When you pulled back to squeeze your teeth to keep from screaming, Greg grasped your hand and held fast, welcoming the pain you offered him. âFaster we get this out, the faster youâre out of pain. Come on, wife.â
âShoulders are out! Easiest partâs up next, mom!â Came a voice. You sobbed in relief. As you pushed, Greg kept his eyes on you, tracking the way your eyes flickered from being closed, looking aimlessly at the ceiling, and finding safety in Gregâs eyes.
âBabyâs out!â Called a nurse as your back collapsed against the bed. Tears streamed down your face, watching your husband shift his weight to catch a glimpse of his child and to be near his wife. âItâs a girl! You did it, mom.â
âWhat time is it?â You asked raspily.
â2:49,â Chase answered immediately.
Your lips twitched into an exhausted smile. âBefore 3:00.â
âBefore 3:00,â confirmed the doctor, a smile on her face.
Allison drifted to the back of the room to commune with the rest of the team. Foreman had his mouth covered. Chase looked at him, a playful expression ghosting hid expression. âYâalright, Foreman?â
Foreman wiped his eyes. âFine,â he answered gruffly. âIâm fine.â
âCan I hold her?â You asked quietly, watching the nurses crowd the preemie. âMy baby? Can I hold her?â
The nurses gingerly offered you the small baby. Her mouth worked as she adjusted to her new life outside of the womb. Small cooing came from her vocal cords, drawing a soft cry from you. âLook, honey,â you said, looking to Greg. âWe made that.â
Greg was sitting on the bed now, you leaning against his shoulder. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyebrows were pinched. âYou did most of the work,â he said finally, an uncharacteristic falter in his tone. âHere,â he said, drawing a folded cloth from his bag.
Recognition flashed through your features. âIs that-?â You looked down to the baby in your arms and then back. âYouâre such a romantic,â you said through a watery laugh. You shifted your daughter so her head was between you and Greg. While you spoke quietly to your baby and the medical staff bustled around, Wilson, Allison, Chase, and Foreman watched House tuck a medium sized blanket between you and the baby.
Later, you would tell Foreman that the blanket House brought was the blanket your grandma had left specifically for you, a blanket she made before she was left unable to sew and crochet and knit after eyesight deteriorated. Later, Foreman would find himself in happy tears again knowing his best friend was actually thriving with his cold, sarcastic boss.
