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Thanks @wolfofluna for the tag for this game. ❤️ I've decided to complete it as an OC.

Rules: colour the sentences thats true about you Charlie Specter

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

@ Y'all: Feel free to comment or send an ask to request I complete it for other OCs.

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Dept. Q 1x01

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Dept. Q 1x07

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👆a bitch

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Another Time, Another Place

Summary: Harvey's wife (Reader) gets stuck while working on a case and she requires his assistance to get unstuck.

Prompt: “What? Isn’t this the book you wanted?”

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader/OFC (3rd person, she/ her)

Content Warning: Nothing much, really. Implied spice, but no explicit spice.

She pulled her gaze from her laptop, rubbing at her eyes as she glanced around the room after sending an email. Most of the partners—both the senior and junior designees—stayed far away from the law firm’s library. They had little need for the space, what with being granted their own resplendent offices, complete with the comforts of their own design—furniture and decor and views that reflected their status and clout at the firm…

So it was rare to find department heads there, excepting for the odd instances when they deigned to stretch their legs, drifting down to the library to follow up with an associate or paralegal assigned to their case in person rather than sending an email, but she had always liked the library. She often preferred its special brand of quiet, the near-silence imbued with the tense buzz of people working on their own time-sensitive assignments, almost like the parallel play of toddlers. Almost like they were all still students studying for exams and writing papers. 

The room was empty now though, the hour too late for even the most diligent of associates, the most hungry of them, but it had always reminded her of her days back in school…her days as a novice associate. Even now, she sometimes preferred the space to her own office the same way she’d once preferred the space to her little cubicle in the bullpen. Back when she was an associate, there had been no hour too late, no hour that she wouldn’t spend in the library with a pile of books and her mind wound tightly throughout the intricacies of a case, trying to craft a win for herself. For her mentor. For her clients. 

It wasn’t often these days that she needed to keep such late hours. And somewhere along the line, she’d become the one mentoring novice attorneys. She’d sent her own associate home hours ago, preferring to work through this particularly rough bit of research on her own. Once in a while, she liked that sort of challenge. Liked revisiting the grueling all nighters she’d once lived on a daily basis. 

And she could feel she was close now, the puzzle pieces in her mind’s eye nearly falling into place. Nearly…but there was something she was missing. Something blocked that she couldn’t quite work through. In a library containing thousands of volumes and a whole internet of answers, she just couldn’t find what she needed. 

Or, more likely, she couldn’t access it, her mind not making the right connections. 

She probably just needed to get some sleep, to look at things with a fresh mind, but that wasn’t in the cards tonight, not with an impending deadline. 

A short break would have to do. She just needed an influx of energy, a slight bit of distraction to pull her mind away from the issue just enough to give perspective. 

Pushing back from her laptop, she turned the volume on her wireless headphones up, letting the club hits she used to dance to during undergrad house parties soothe some part of her soul, almost as if the familiar beats unlocked something in her, loosening muscles she hadn’t even realized were tense. Not that it was a surprise. She’d been hunched over the table for hours, not even bothering to stop for dinner, taking only a few obligatory bites of the sushi Harvey had ordered for her while her eyes remained glued to her computer. 

She let her focus slip away now though, slipping off her heels and closing her eyes as she sang along to the song in her headphones. She imagined she was in another time, another place—far away from the library and the case, the music easily carrying her away. 

She started, eyes flying open as she danced into something solid, the scent of a familiar cologne tickling her senses as she stumbled. Harvey’s hand closed around her back, steadying her as she pulled her headphones off, letting them hang around her neck. 

Harvey smirked at the noise still blaring through the silent library from the headphones, a song he knew just as well as she did, the sound of it dredging up at least half a dozen memories—images of his own college days, images of the two of them on road trips, images of her cleaning the apartment, images of their wedding, images of a handful of other times he’d come across her in the firm’s library late at night…

“Hey fruitcake, what are you doing?” 

She rolled her eyes at the reference as she turned down the volume, allowing the memories and the music to fall away, her mind temporarily focused on finding the right retort, her mind gratefully sifting through Dirty Harry quotes rather than case law research.

Harvey watched her, letting the quiet stretch between them, some part of him gratified at the sight of her slightly disheveled appearance. Harvey liked something about the juxtaposition, of seeing her just slightly less put together than she usually was in the hallowed halls of their law firm, her blazer discarded on a chair, her shirt sleeves rolled, her feet bare, bright red toenails stark against the dark carpets. 

Not that he wasn’t used to seeing her like that. She was the type of girl who was almost always in sweats just minutes after arriving home. She’d actually been dressed that way when they first met, years and years ago in a different law library, in a different set of hallowed halls. 

Sometimes, especially times like this, it felt like it was just yesterday.

Harvey pulled his eyes back to her face to find her studying him, a certain eagerness lighting her eyes. His lips formed a fond smile again. 

“I thought you were hard at work down here?” he taunted, eyebrows raising.

“Well…” she started, leaning a bit of weight onto the arm that still lay snaked around her back, “for the past three-quarters of an hour, I’ve been sitting on my ass waiting for you.” 

Harvey smirked. It was one of the things he loved about her: that she could go toe to toe with him with most things—movie references, the law, a few choice other things…

Nevermind the fact that she’d emailed him requesting his ‘assistance’ mere minutes ago…

Harvey gently massaged her lower back with the fingers he still had splayed there before shifting his arm away, abstaining from letting his hand drift down to the aforementioned ass, another thing he loved about her.

Her lips pursed at the sudden absence of Harvey’s touch and she pulled her arms up to fold over her chest.

“I brought that help you wanted.” 

She refrained from smiling as she read the title of the paperback he pushed into the space between them—Law for Dummies—even as he smirked, giddy as a school child. She had gifted the book to him upon his law school graduation, and it had occupied a shelf in his various cubicles and offices ever since. 

She doubted it had ever been much help, but it gave them a good laugh from time to time, something which was like a balm to the harshness of life sometimes, a healing salve for the seemingly chronic stress of their lives.

“Very clever, Harvey.” 

“What?” he asked, gaze drifting from her unimpressed face down to the black and yellow front cover. “Isn’t this the book you wanted?”

Harvey’s voice sounded so innocent—so sincere—that she almost laughed. Christ, he was good. If law hadn’t worked out, he could’ve given acting a shot. Comedy, maybe. 

“Did my email say anything about a book, Mr. Specter?” she asked, taking the tome from his hands and tossing it on a nearby table with a thump.

Harvey hummed. “Come to think of it, your email was a little…vague. Left a lot to the imagination.” 

“Mhmm…” She nodded. “The details of the specific type of assistance I require of you is something I suspect neither one of us would want in writing. Wouldn’t want it read aloud in a court of law…” Her eyes traveled Harvey’s face, clocking the light in his eyes and the tug of his smile. “Or by the IT department,” she added as an afterthought, the briefest bit of alarm washing over her features at the idea. 

“You think Benjamin is reading our email exchanges?” Harvey asked. “That’s kind of—”

She pushed at his chest before he could get the word out—kinky. 

“Harvey,” she groaned, not because she didn’t enjoy the childish side of him. She did. She loved it, actually, but she had asked him down here for a reason…

“Yes, Mrs. Specter?” 

To most of the world, both here at the office and in the eyes of the U.S. government, she went by her maiden name. She had kept her own name, both professionally and legally, for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which being that she was not a man’s property, not even if Harvey Specter was the man in question. But between the two of them, it still thrilled her when he called her that, made her feel so thoroughly his—and him so thoroughly hers—that her toes curled into the carpet, a movement that Harvey clocked as he stepped closer, one arm wrapping around her as he used the other to guide her face up to him with a hand under her chin.

“What specific type of assistance is it that you require of me?”

Whatever she asked for…whatever she needed…Harvey would readily give her the world if she wanted it. If it would make her happy. If she needed it. He’d do anything.

It was a truth they both knew. And it was reciprocal. She’d do the same for him.  

But all she wanted—all she needed—just now was him. 

This.

Well, this…and a way to win her case, but as she kissed her husband’s lips, allowing him to guide them both back towards the stacks, thoughts of the case fell away until all that existed in the world was two people alone in a library, each of them falling a bit further in love, as they had once done long ago in another time, another place.

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Grace Kelly as Lisa Fremont in REAR WINDOW (1954) dir. Alfred Hitchcock

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Agree with this headcanon. Frank loves to cook.

He loves to make a big production of making a big, fancy meal for Abby and the kids but he’s got such terrible tunnel vision that he’s just thinking about this wonderful meal he’s making for his family and what a treat he is giving them. He really has such good intentions.

But he isn’t around enough to know that his son straight up refuses to eat fish since their trip to the aquarium three weeks ago. And he doesn’t realize that he targeted for dinner to be served at 5 pm but it’s already 7:13 and both kids and Abby are cranky and hungry as hell. This whole endeavor has pushed back the entire bath and bedtime routine by at least an hour already.

And then there’s the fact that the kitchen is a complete disaster zone. Such a mess. Pots and pans and dishes and splatters everywhere.

By the time they finally sit down to eat, Abby rushes the kids through it. She barely gets a bite for herself though the bite she does get is DELICIOUS. And then she’s moving on to get the kids ready for bed. Frank offers to help, but she tells him she’s got it. It’ll be quicker if she just does it since they have their own routine, the kids and her.

She kind of assumes he knows that means he should clean up dinner and the kitchen while she’s dealing with the baths. Frank stops up when she’s just getting the kids into bed and helps tuck them in and she can’t help but smile. He’s really so good with them when he’s here and the babies love their dad so much. He kisses Abby and then heads back downstairs when she says she’ll be right down after she tidies up the bathroom.

Abby’s expecting to decompress a bit when she comes downstairs. Maybe they’ll have a glass of that wine Frank was chilling in the fridge. Maybe she can finish the dinner she barely touched.

But the maybes all fall away as she comes into the kitchen to find the same mess she’d left over an hour ago. Through the screen door, she can see Frank is sitting at the patio table with a freshly poured glass of wine—the bottle is empty on the counter. He scrolls through his phone, looking at pictures of puppies. He’s thinking of getting one since tanner mentioned it at dinner tonight.

He remembers that Abby had a dog growing up and that she spoke of her fondly...

Abby gets started on the kitchen, starting with the leftovers. She opens the fridge and finds that Frank had put her plate in the fridge. No covering, just her plate, with fork and knife placed there. She wants to scream. She almost does and then the screen door opens and Frank walks inside.

Abby somehow knew he’d half-heartedly offer to help clean. She knew that she’d tell him it’s fine. He should go to bed. He had to be up early for a double shift.

Or maybe they would fight. Maybe she would finally call him out, letting the resentment that was constantly building spill over just this once.

Abby wasn’t sure which way she was leaning, but then the baby started wailing, the sound piercing the silence of the kitchen as it poured through the monitor.

“I’ve got her,” Frank offered, as if he was giving his wife a gift in choosing to go soothe the baby.

Once again, Abby wants to scream. And by the time she finishes cleaning the kitchen, she heads upstairs to find Frank asleep in the rocking chair in the nursery.

Abby doesn’t bother waking him. Just goes to her own bed. She’s started not to even miss the nights when he’s gone. She’s started to like it a bit even.

Abby and the kids have a routine, after all.

I don’t really know if this is a head canon, but anyways my Frank Langdon headcanon: He loves cooking. Mostly because of him saying he wanted to grill up salmon for his family

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Source: @twisteddoodles

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Yes, he’ll be stoic and unemotional but he needs to make a thousand faces first ✋🏼

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FRANK CASTLE & BILLY RUSSO The Punisher • 1.06

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Random gifs of Billy Russo (3/∞) Ben Barnes as Billy Russo ↳ The Punisher | S01E12

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The Punisher Season 1 Episode 03 - Kandahar

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Watching Peaky Blinders for the first time on a new tv and the quality is just so much better than what I am used to. 😂 The picture is so crisp and rich and it’s like an entirely different experience.

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THE PITT 1.02 • 8:00 A.M.

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📜🌀for Charlie

🌀 do they have a recurring dream or nightmare ?

From time to time, yes. Charlie was there when Gordon died, so when she's stressed, she tends to have nightmares about that.

📜 is there a story they love sharing with others ?

She loves sharing things about Harvey, especially with Mike. Like little stuff about how silly or loving he can be. And embarrassing stuff he's done. Drives Harvey absolutely nuts.

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Peony, for charlie

Peony: What is the best gift they have ever received from a parent, material or otherwise?

The best gift was probably just all of the attention and love she got from Gordon growing up. He was really just so present and attuned to Charlie and it really helped balance out the less savory pieces of early childhood.

Material-wise though, she's gotten so much good stuff, especially from Harvey ($$$) but one of Charlie's favorites is the doll that looks just like her, created by Harvey's client, Joy.