#I just want to point out things that come to my mind

[scarletmika]

Stay With Me : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Ex-Widow!Reader

Summary: Bob wants to feel useful, to truly be part of the team, but the others don't think he's ready. You take it upon yourself to teach him control, to guide him through. But mistakes will be made, and it might not be possible to keep the darkness from creeping back in once more.

Warnings: fluff, angst, idiots in love, violence, death, language, SPOILERS I guess for Thunderbolts*

Word Count: 5,292 words PART TWO: Always : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,”

To be fair, Yelena Belova had every right to be apprehensive of your idea. It had only been a few months since The New Avengers had been formally established, and the team itself was still finding its groove working together. Standing up to Valentina and saving Bob from himself? That was one thing. Receiving missions from Valentina’s team, having to travel the globe in order to save innocent civilians? That was a whole other can of worms that they’d popped open without thinking of the consequences.

The amount of missions the team was needed on was slowly ramping up, going from just two a month to now almost four in just the last month. The entire team wasn’t always needed for certain mission: Bucky, Yelena and yourself had been sent on solo missions, while Alexei had tagged along with John and Ava on others (much to their dismay at times). There was always one agreed-upon rule: Bob was staying in the Watchtower.

It’s not that the team didn’t want Bob with them, because everyone did. They knew he wanted to feel wanted and feel useful, that he didn’t want to simply do the dishes after dinner every night and read through every book that had accumulated in his room. The problem came down to control. When they had fully explained what had happened that day in New York to him, the Void and how he became his worst fears, the small sense of control he seemed to have over his powers had slipped. His worst fear had quickly become losing control once again and hurting his team, hurting the people of the city.

You, though, had another idea.

“I think it’s time, Lena,” you tried to reason with her that night in the kitchen, the pair of you working on the load of dirty dishes together. Yelena cleaned while you dried them and put them away, working in tandem just as you had for many years within the Red Room, memories you both wanted to forget. “Bob is capable of controlling it, I know he is, he just needs help. Just let me train him, show him some basics and help him find that sense of control again.”

“And if he loses control? If the Void takes over his mind again?”

“I’m not scared of him,”

Yelena scoffed, shooting a smirk toward her oldest friend before focusing back on the dishes before them, hoping to finish them sooner rather than later.

“Just because you have a little soft spot for Bob doesn’t mean your idea is the best idea,”

“I’m not asking any of you to help me,” you shot back, bumping your hip against hers with a pointed look for her comment about your soft spot for Bob. “Just trust that I can do it. I believe in Bob, and that’s enough for me to try.”

Yelena paused at the sink, quietly watching as you placed the dishes up into the cabinet where they typically went, and let out a sigh, shaking her head.

“Fine, but it’s on you if it goes wrong,”

“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Convincing Yelena was the part that you knew would be easy. You’d grown up just houses down from her, Natasha and Alexei, kept there under the watchful eye of your own Red Room spy posing as your mother. You’d escaped America with them, been trained through the Red Room and escaped mind control with Yelena by your side, and brought down Dreykov once and for all with her, too. There weren’t many people Yelena trusted in the world, but you were one of the very few. You knew it might take slight convincing, but she’d ultimately trust your judgement in the end.

Now, convincing Bob was a whole other story, one you knew wouldn’t be easy.

“No uh, no way,” you sighed, watching Bob pace his bedroom and wring his hands together. He glanced at you for just a second before shaking his hand again. “Using my powers means being the Sentry and I can’t be the Sentry without…you know…”

“And it’s been months since there’s been any incident, Bob,” you tried to explain to him softly. Without giving him a chance to pull away you reached forward, silently taking his tense hands in your own and squeezing them. “Look, you’re holding my hands and I’m not being transported into any shame room!”

Bob tried his best to laugh at your attempt to lighten his mood. His cheeks flushed a bright red as he pulled his hands from your own, shaking his head as he sat back down on his bed, picking back up the book he had been reading before you’d come in and pitched your idea to him.

You took a deep breath, wracking your brain for any idea to hopefully convince Bob that this was good for him, that learning control again would be good. The cover of the book in his hands distracted you, a smile crossing your lips in an instant as you recognized it.

“I remember buying that for you last month, along with the rest of the series,” you told him gently, sitting down on the bed beside him and gesturing to the book. “Seems like you’re enjoying it, since I’m pretty sure that’s book three.”

“It’s not bad. Helps pass the time,” Bob shrugged, looking back to you with a shy smile. “You have good taste.”

With a shared smile between you both, you bumped your shoulder with his lightly, glancing down at the book before looking back to his eyes. God, were you fond of those blue eyes.

“You trusted my book recommendations…can you trust me on anything else?”

Bob didn’t hesitate before speaking again.

“I trust you more than anyone,”

The way he said it, so sure of himself, made your smile grow even wider.

“Then trust me when I tell you that this could be good for you. Learning control again will help you, even just the smallest bit of practice and control can be good for you. Please, just try? For me?”

It was quiet between you both for a moment, eyes never leaving one another, before Bob’s voice came out softer than it had before.

“Yeah…yeah, okay. Let’s try,”

It was a process…a long process to say the least. It took almost two weeks before you could even get Bob fully comfortable in the full gym that tower had for him to even consider channeling his powers again. He never liked going to the training room when John and Alexei were there, Walker always managing to make snide comments toward Bob. You knew Walker cared, he just hated wearing it on his sleeve and masked it instead, but that didn’t mean you appreciated the small remarks.

Instead, you’d gotten Bob comfortable with heading to the training room whenever Bucky and Ava were sparring, the pair tending to leave you both alone unlike your other friends.

“I know you can do it. Just focus on it, channel your energy into it, and command your mind to do what you want it to do,”

You didn’t have an extension range of powers the way that Bob did, so you weren’t entirely sure that what you were instructing Bob to do was actually helpful to helping him learn control, or even get comfortable with his powers again. But he was trying, and that was enough for you.

Bob took a deep breath beside you, focusing in on the 20 pound medicine ball on the ground across the room from the two of you. He held his hand out, making your mind flashback to that day in the tower when you were forced to fight against him, something you had refused to do, and you saw the furrow in his brows as he tried to focus in and command the ball to move. There was silence in the room, besides the sound of Ava and Bucky talking across the room.

You watched Bob in silence as he seemed to grow more frustrated, desperately trying to move the ball across the room toward you both. You placed your hand on his arm, thumb gently rubbing across his skin in the most gentle and comforting way you could muster, tone hushed as you spoke just to him.

“You can do this Bob, just focus. You can do it,”

The tenseness in his body seemed to leave him at your words and your touch. Bob pulled his hand back in toward him, and for just a second, he was delighted as the weighted exercise ball finally moved across the floor.

Until it stopped just an inch after moving.

Bob’s head was buried in his hands in seconds, and you could see the deep flush in his cheeks through the cracks in his fingers as he mumbled to himself. You couldn’t entirely hear him, but you could make out the words “mistake” and “useless” clear as day as your hand made its way to his back, rubbing it comfortingly.

John Walker’s obnoxious laughter from the doorway cut through the silence of the room before you could encourage Bob to try again.

“Wow! I thought after a few weeks you’d have his control and powers in better shape there, Widow,” John whistled, stepping slightly further in through the doorway. You could hear Ava mumbling to Bucky about how this wouldn’t but good, but John didn’t seem to care. “I mean an inch! Wow! I mean hey, it’s not all about size right?”

“Walker, that’s enough-”

You tuned out Bucky’s scolding of John, looking back to Bob. His hands had left his face, his eyes trained on the ground, as he continued to mumble to himself about how he was useless. Your blood boiled in an instant, reaching down to take one of Bob’s hands in your own and squeeze it in comfort as you turned your glare back to John.

“Hey Walker? How about you shut it, yeah? If I wanted to hear an ass’s opinion I’d take myself down to the zoo and ask the fucking donkeys,”

John laughed again, shrugging off Bucky as he tried to place a hand on his shoulder, pointing over at you. Your hand tightened around Bob’s as he did.

“Want to say that again, Widow?”

“Ex-Widow, thank you very much. You should remember that your dick belongs in your pants and not in your personality,”

“Keep running your mouth. This little experiment here of yours isn’t good for anyone. Just because you’ve got a little soft spot for Bobby boy here doesn’t mean-”

Walker was cut off as the medicine ball Bob had been trying to move was flung across the room, narrowly missing his head and embedding itself in the doorframe behind him, shattering and splintering the wood and burying itself in the wall. Ava’s gasp was the only other sound as Bucky grabbed Walker almost by the back of his neck, shoving him out of the room with a gruff comment of “let’s go” as Ava followed behind.

Your eyes finally left the piece of exercise equipment now one with the wall of the room, gaze turning back to Bob. His hand was held up in the direction the ball had flown, but it was shaking slightly. You trailed your gaze up to his eyes to see he was already looking down at you, eyes blown wide as she stammered over his words.

“I wasn’t, that- that was a mistake. I didn’t- I really didn’t mean to do that he was, he was just- he’s such an asshole sometimes-”

Your laughter cut him off, pausing him in the middle of his tracks as you gripped his hand tighter, forehead falling against his shoulder as he stiffened for a moment, before relaxing and smiling slightly at the sound of your laughter ringing through the room.

“Oh my god, Bob, that was brilliant! I’m going to use that idea next time Walker decides to be a dick to mask his own troubles, that shut him right up!”

“I didn’t mean to, though,” he quickly backtracked, shaking his head as you lifted your head, looking up at him, though still holding his hand tightly. “It was a mistake.”

“Mistakes happen. We’re human, it’s natural,” she smiled at him, tilting her head toward the ball. “Now…do it again.”

Bob stared at her for a moment, truly trying to discern what he possibly could’ve done to deserve you. You’d stepped between him and Walker down in the vault, keeping the former Captain America from laying a hand on him, you’d almost died in the elevator shaft to make sure he didn’t. You’d refused to fight him that day in the penthouse, trying to bring him back, and it was ultimately you who was the first one to run to him and pull him back from the Void.

When he looked at you, he could feel the flutter in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. He knew what it meant, but he couldn’t find the words to say it. It was in thinking of that four letter word while staring down at you that he’d pulled the ball right back to the two of you, letting it hang in the air before you both for a moment before dropping it to the ground.

Your eyes had never left his, your smile only growing wider and your fingers slotting between his own.

“Not bad, Bob. Not bad,”

It was a month later that your idea would be fully put to the test.

HYDRA was the most stubborn organization, like an insect that just refused to die. Steve Rogers couldn’t stop them in the 40’s, and there was no stopping them now. They’d rebuilt momentum as an organization during the Blip, with cells popping up around the country. It didn’t take long for information to come in about their new main base; an underground compound hidden within the Five Ponds Wilderness in upstate New York. The New Avengers had been tasked with infiltrating and dismantling the base, taking in as many soldiers within for questioning by the US government, and recovering any intel that they’d managed to steal during their rebuild time.

It was an all hands on deck operation, the team knowing it was going to take all of them in order to fully infiltrate and dismantle this large base. In your eyes, that meant no one was sitting this one out.

“You guys handle dismantling and capturing soldiers. I’ll handle intel recovery…and I’m taking Bob with me,”

The comment had everyone at the briefing table pausing, including Bob, who had opted to sit in the corner of the room after you had asked him personally to attend the briefing with you.

John refused to meet your eyes, knowing his single apology weeks ago wasn’t enough to calm how angry you still were over the situation. Alexei and Ava shared concerned glances, while Bucky and Yelena seemed to have a conversation entirely with their eyes. The former Winter Soldier was the one to turn back to you, giving you a small nod.

“He’s ready?”

“I think he is,” you trailed your gaze over to Bob, giving him an encouraging smile. “The question is, do you think you’re ready?”

Bob looked at his teammates, his friends, seeing the apprehension in their eyes. But all it took was one look back to you, to the pride and encouragement shining in your gaze on him, that had him sitting up straighter.

“I am,”

It was that simple sentence that had Bob finding himself trekking through the wilderness of upstate New York behind you, decked out in a minimal tactical suit that the team had insisted he wear for the mission. He didn’t mind it, anything was better than that monstrosity that Valentina had put him in before.

“Is this normal?” Bob cautiously questioned you, stopping alongside you in a clearing in the woods you’d finally gotten to. “You know…splitting up? The team all uh, went another way didn’t they?”

“Our mission is intel recovery and intel recovery only, so it was easier for us to head through this separate entrance,” you explained, kneeling down in the leaves below your feet and brushing them away, revealing the steel door below your feet. You glanced up at him, smiling. “This should bring us closer to their control room, which minimizes the amount of fighting that we have to deal with.”

Both of you finally making your way through the hatch and down into the halls of the, Bob stuck close to your side as you guided him through the halls, earpieces in your ears alerting you to updates from the rest of the team. The hallways blinked in the emergency red lights you knew would be going off, signaling that the base was in lockdown mode. That meant your friends were doing their job further down the compound.

You’d briefed Bob on the mission on the very short jet ride to upstate. Taking the separate entrance would mean minimal fighting for both of you, which you wanted for Bob. You wanted to ease him into missions like this, especially when he was afraid to fully unleash his powers and be ‘The Sentry’ in fear of losing himself. You found a middle ground, instructing Bob that you would handle the majority of anyone you came across as well as the intel dump to your central computers back at the Watchtower. All he had to do was watch your back for stragglers.

With the compound in lockdown, most of the HYDRA agents had been pulled to the main fight. Using the tech embedded into your suit, you did a quick scan through the control room door, highlighting the agents that were inside.

“Just follow my lead and watch my back,” you mumbled to Bob, hand on the door of the control room, glancing back at him with a small smile. “You’ve got this.”

Within seconds of throwing the control room door open you were inside, launching yourself over the row of computers, legs spread as you took down two agents simultaneously with kicks directly into their throats. You ducked under another row of tables as shots rang out from the gun of another agent, propelling yourself up and above the table toward him. His gun tracked your movements, shots ringing through your ears, but the bullets hovered in place. Bob was barely through the doorway, one hand stopping the bullets from touching you while another held off the agent rushing toward him with ease.

In the signature move you’d learned from Natasha herself, your thighs enclosed around the neck of the agent shooting at you, twisting your body until you were both thrown to the ground, With another single twist of your legs you heard a crack, quickly scrambling back to your feet.

With one agent dead and two down you glanced to Bob, who was entirely fine holding back the agent that was struggling against his powers to get to him. Kicking the chairs before you out of the way, you quickly inserted the USB into the main computer drive, initiating the sequence to download any intel that HYDRA was harboring in the compound.

Bob was simply staring at the man in front of him, head tilted as the agent struggled against his mental hold on him that held him in place. Realizing that he needed to be focusing on watching your back instead of messing with the agent, Bob quickly threw him across the room, the agent’s head hitting a wall and knocking him out almost immediately. Bob smiled to himself for just a moment at the sight; he felt bad for hurting anyone, even if these people were bad people that needed to be stopped. But to have this kind of control over his powers was a miracle to him, something he didn’t believe was possible. And he owed everything to you-

“BOB!”

He frantically turned, seeing one of the agents back on his feet, hand wrapped around your throat and body pressed against the row of computers before them. He could hear your choked coughs from across the room, your feet pushing against the man’s chest in a desperate hope to knock him off of you. It was to no avail, though, as the agent lifted his other hand with some sort of device encased in it. The HYDRA agent pressed the button on top of the device, the entire body of it lighting up red in seconds.

“NO!”

You sucked in a deep breath as the agent’s hand was ripped from your throat in seconds, your own hands flying to your throat as you tried to regain control of your surroundings. Bob with a single flick of the wrist dragged the man aross the room, launching him into the wall opposite you at the speed of light, a sickening crack sounding through the room.

Your eyes locked with Bob’s for just a second before you both looked to the beeping, red device at your feet. Without a moment’s hesitation, Bob flew across the room in what seemed like a blink, grabbing hold of the device and launching it across the room toward the door where you had entered. In the next second he turned, covering your body with his own as he pulled you both to the ground just as the device containing a high powered bomb exploded.

In an instant your hands covered your ears, feeling the rush of heat from the blast and pieces of debris rush past you and Bob. He body stayed crouched over yours, keeping anything from the blast from hitting you. It seemed to go on for what felt like forever until all that was left was the smell of smoke and gunpowder in the air and the faint crackle of electricity from destroyed wires.

After another moment to recover, you crawled out from Bob’s arms, quickly turning to the harddrive behind you to pocket the USB and whatever intel you were able to download before the explosion. You turned back to the area of the blast, and felt your breath leave you at the sight.

The entire wall that connected to the main hallway was gone, the ceiling having come down on top of it as well, almost splitting the room into almost half of the size it had been when you had first entered and encountered the agents. Wires were exposed within the ceiling, pipes leaking down into the room as small fires burned in the explosion area of the rubble.

“Widow, Bob, answer us!” fully coming back to your senses, you could hear John’s voice through the earpiece in your ear. “We heard an explosion, does one of you copy?”

“One of the agent’s had a bomb, but we’re both fine,” you called back to the team, still breathing heavily as you surveyed the damage before you. “The room…not so much.”

“Did you get the intel-”

“That’s not important,” Yelena’s voice cut off John’s, and you could hear the concern within it. “What’s wrong with the room?”

“My best guess is we’re trapped now, given that an entire wall and half the ceiling was just blown out,” you relayed back to them. “We’re underground so I really don’t want to think about being trapped within a concrete room with what I can only assume is a limited amount of oxygen, so if the three super soldiers on this team could hurry their asses over here and help dig us out sooner rather than later we’d appreciate it.”

“Stay put, we’re on our way,”

“Stay put, as if we can go anywhere,” you mumbled to yourself, tearing the earpiece from your ear and pocketing it, ears still ringing slightly from the blast. “Bob, you okay?”

Your eyes stayed trained on the debris before you even as you asked the question. After a moment of no response you glanced to the side at one of the only walls that wasn’t destroyed, freezing in place at the sight of a black tendril like shadow crawling across the wall.

“I made a mistake…it’s my fault…”

Turning fully, it felt like ice had suddenly run through your veins at the sight before you.

Bob was on his knees on the ground, eyes trained on the floor, but he was barely Bob anymore. Half of his face, of the face of the beautiful, broken boy you’d fallen so irrevocably in love with over the last few months was still visible. The rest of him was bathed in shadows, tendrils of it seeping out through the floor and into the walls, as the Void slowly took him over.

“Bob…” your voice was low, cautious, as you took a single hesitant step back.

He looked up at you at he sound of your voice. One single blue eye remained, tears welling in it and streaming down his face, in contrast to the shadow and pinpoint dot that covered the other half of his face. He spoke like himself, but almost like there were two of him, a low and gruff second voice of his layered over it.

“It’s my fault. It shouldn’t have happened I- I made a mistake. I could’ve hurt you, I could’ve got you killed,” his voice broke for a second, a sob almost seeping out of him as the shadows took more of what was left of him away. “I’m useless. All I do is make mistakes, all I do is make everything worse.You shouldn’t have brought me, I wasn’t ready. I- I can’t hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

“You protected me,” you tried to explain to him, voice soft as you crouched down, bringing yourself down to his level as you held out your hands toward him. “You saved me. You didn’t make a mistake, Bob, neither of us knew he had a bomb. You did everything you could. Please just…just listen. Just come back to me.”

He stared at you, one blue eyes and one pinpoint eye, but your words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. The shadows still crept in.

“I’m better off dead. If I’m dead I…I can’t hurt you. I won’t hurt you,”

The shadows crept in again, that blue eye full of tears barely left to look at you, as the Void was seconds from swallowing him whole once again. 

Panic filled you in that instance, at the thought of losing him, and you lunged forward. Your knees dropping to the ground in front of him as you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck as you cried, letting the shadows consume you as well.

“Don’t leave me…please don’t leave me,”

It could’ve been minutes, it felt like hours, but in reality it had only been seconds before your eyes opened once more. There were arms wrapped around your waist as your brain caught up with you that you were still with Bob. You flung back, prying your head from the crook of his neck as you pulled back to look at him, just as he looked back at you with a similar look of confusion.

One hand came up to cup his cheek, overwhelmed to simply see his face unmarked by shadows. His eyes trailed over your face before they flickered around the room, face contorting in confusion.

“This…this isn’t one of my shame rooms,”

You followed his gaze, breath catching in your throat automatically as you took in the room. The grand pillars in front of the staircase, the white and black tiled floor beneath your feet, the dim lighting you knew all too well.

The Red Room.

“No…it’s one of mine,”

Bob’s hand around your waist tightened at the sound of heels against the floor behind you. His hand never left you, and your’s never left him as you both turned to face the scene before you.

You were so young, only 9. You stood to the side of the room, still in your ballet flats and hair slicked back impeccably. You recognized the woman in heels, of course you did she’d been your instructor since you were barely old enough to be molded into one of their assassins. She came to a stop before you, glaring down at you. God, you were just a child.

“You were given simple instructions,” her shrill voice cut through the air as you tightened your hold around Bob at the sound. “A simple task. You have been a perfect student…only to fail now.”

“I’m sorry, mistress,”

“There are no apologies here,” her voice cut in again. “Only consequences.”

Two burly men entered the room, holding the arms of a body not much bigger than your own at the time. They tore the sack upon the child’s head off, revealing her face: Polina. You’d grown up together, progressed through every challenge together. Besides Yelena…she’d been the closest thing to a best friend you could have in a place like this.

Bob’s own hands on your waist tightened as the mistress pulled out a revolver from the waistband of her skirt, loading a single bullet into the chamber. Her gaze flickered back to your young 9-year-old self, glare harsher than it was before as she saw your eyes were closed. “Open your eyes, and accept your consequence.”

A single tear made its way down your cheek as this young version of you did as she was asked, holding back her own tears as she looked into the eyes of your friend, just as the mistress’s bullet pierced her skull.

“What…what happened?”

“Simple…I made a mistake,” was the only response you could muster back to Bob. You pulled your gaze from the bloody scene before you, turning back to the man you loved as he watched you. Shaky hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs gliding over his skin as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Bob…we all have regrets. We all wish we could’ve done things differently. We all make mistakes, whether we want to or not, but it just means we’re human. We are not the sum of all of our mistakes, but what we choose to do differently because of them.”

Bob leaned into your soft touch, his eyes never leaving yours. He shook his head, choking on his own words as he tried to find the words to say.

“All I’ve done is cause you pain…cause everyone pain, because I keep- I keep making mistakes. I don’t know how to fix it,”

You thought about the next thing to say, what you could possibly say to get through to him, but words no longer seemed to do the trick. Instead, your hands held tight to his face as you surged forward, molding your lips to his own.

In a single kiss, you tried to convey every single thing that you needed him to feel. The way that you had cared about him from the moment you’d laid eyes on him, that one single look into his blue eyes had forever held him a place in your heart before you even realized he was the one occupying it. That in your eyes, he could do no wrong, that there was no mistake he could make that would make you love him any less. That you would walk through fire, cross any ocean, or throw yourself into the void of his own mind if that’s what it took to bring him back to you. The press of your lips against his own, the hesitant reciprocation back from him as he tried to navigate this new territory, his hands gripped onto your waist in hopes to ground himself in the moment, you tried desperately to ensure that he knew everything you needed him to know in that moment.

You pulled away, eyes closed as you felt him lean back into you, chasing after the feeling of your lips on his. Your nose brushed against his, hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair.

“Just stay with me. That’s all I need…just stay with me,”

When you finally opened your eyes, you were back in the debris-covered room of the destroyed compound, still kneeling on the floor. You could hear the sound of your friends from beyond the debris, calling out for you as they tried to move the debris before them to get to you both.

All that mattered was the man still wrapped in your arms, shadows faded away as if they’d never appeared to begin with, leaving behind those beautiful blue eyes that shone brightly with one thing only: love.

“Always,”

[magicalpuppet]

"Are you new here? I’m new too." What if the one she met wasn't Frank at all?

If somebody is interested in the madness “theory”, I'll put it right under here.

Keep in mind before continuing: this is straight up just a theory/headcanon, I'm gonna share it without any other purpose than having fun theorizing. I put some points you can follow, I am sorry this is gonna be long and crazy.

So, I believe the puppet Julie met could be...Wally.

This whole madness was caused by Julie's story in the video "regard forgetfulness silence"...

The memory The way Julie is speaking seems off to me, as well as the way she recounts her first meeting with Frank.

She "think" that's how she met him, isn't it strange she can't recall precisely how she met the dearest puppet to her?

We know Julie have difficulties with her memory, but she seems to remember stuff that happened when hanging out with Frank, why the most important moment is so unclear to her?

This could mean that she can't remember the interaction correctly and that her memories are being heavily corrupted by something or that the whole thing is made up by someone.

The encounter

Even the encounter is iffy, the puppet she met doesn't seems to speak like Frank Does.

"Are you new here? I'm new too. My name is Frank"

This speech pattern sound more similar to Wally to me.

And after that, she says that he made a corny joke and she laughed at it, we know that Frank is not really the one who tells jokes. Heck, he is not even good at telling them.

You could argue about Wally and jokes too, he's not very skilled at telling them after all, but I can imagine two scenarios: -Him speaking normally and not realizing he is saying something funny to her. (this could apply to Frank too)

-His best friend love to tell jokes and we know that Barnaby encourage Wally to chat and tell jokes to the Neighbors, it could be that noticing she was scared he tried to tell a joke to her.

The fruit basket

Okay now I am really looking into stuff, I know, but why would Frank bring a big fruit basket around? Julie says it's because he was going to say hi to her but we know the friendliest neighbor in the whole place is Wally itself. Wouldn't it make more sense for him to be the one going to say hi?

The fruit basket could also just be related to Wally going out into the woods to paint a still life since he is a painter.

“Was he mad?”

She was worried that "Frank" was mad at her when they met.

Strange, because Frank emotions are very easy to read, he's a very expressive puppet. We also know that when he feel a very strong emotion (like being mad) his head spins. Why she would question it? If it was Wally, his emotions are more difficult to read and it could be that she didn't understood his intentions immediately.

Wally itself

The fact she bring up Wally while recalling Frank's meeting is strange too. She says she met Wally the same day, why not meeting the whole neighborhood then? Maybe it was just them at the beginning and it would make sense in that case.

But Wally comes up at the end of the audio asking "Did all that really happen, Julie?" like he is asking her like all of that was made up or straight up incorrect.

Aaand I'm done! I'm not even sure any of this makes sense to anyone else, but it was stuck with me since the update and I wanted to draw it and share it.

Maybe it was Frank, maybe it was really Wally, maybe it never happened in the first place but... Everything sound too strange to be as the story says.

And don't get me wrong with all of this! I love Frank and Julie relationship a lot, I am not going against them in any way. I like to go deep inside the stories I am following and I speculate a lot about stuff! (Also I wanna apologize if my english is not the best, it's not my first language)

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What they would do to your naked body that they will be afraid to admit ? (18+)

(SINGLE SINCE BIRTH - ERA ~4 )

No, you are NOT dreaming ... SHE'S BACKKKK !

Pile 1 

Hey  girl/boy  hey ! How are you doing ? Miss y’all so much ! Anyways don't look at me like that … in what kind of mess did you put yourself into ? Imma move on but we definitely circling back to this next time. Now we are all about the way your next partner would dream about treating your naked body but will be too afraid to admit it. 

First thing first, y’all know I am not the one to sell y’all dreams, right ? No coming back did not change that side of me but babe you are the turning point in your next lover's life. I mean there's a clear before and after effect. Now I’m hearing the lyrics of Brokey: When a real one hold you down, bae, you supposed to drown

You ain't never fuck with no boss bitch, I turned you out (turned you out). There's a difference; the second part of the verse does not apply to you. Like you did not do anything to make that person change. You did not want that person to change. They saw what you were about and decided to change their way. You might never know how much of a trash lover they were until they decide to be honest with you. In my vision, I see a guy dressed like a bad guy in the 50s looking at the pretty preppy girl in pink from a mile away and instead of wanting to do bad to her he want to show her how good love can get.She's the only one worth his good side. I aint saying y’all fit that narrative is just an analogy. 

In their mind, there's no crazy possessive act or even passion. If we stick to my vision, they want you in their pretty car, caressing your leg, keep losing themself in your pretty brown eyes (some of y’all have green eyes and enjoying deep conversion. They don't even want to take you out at night because they want to make sure you know they are serious and this is not some kind of trap. Now sometimes, late at night in their room, they may catch a boner because they mind is almost ``forcing`` them to think of you in a more sexual manner. They will think of kissing your neck (not leaving hickeys because the mere fact that you let them this close to your delicate energy is a privilege). Most of y’all in this pile have the bra game crack and under control (I am jealous tell me all your secrets, NOW !), your tits always look the fuck good. They would love to stare at them and you letting them do so not thinking he's a creep or not risking his chance with you. Caressing your inner thigh and also maybe playing a bit with your panties does cross their mind. They never go further than that because they need to focus on the bigger picture which is a long term commitment with you.  At the end of the day, their passiveness depends on your energy. If you ever give them hint of wanting more (fuck me eyes, playing with your tits, nasty texting …), they will jump on the occasion. 

They also enjoy how strict you are and love it when you remind them that you are not the one to play with. The fact that you can drop them that easily is a turn on for them. They also imagine you, squirting all over them. Overstimulating you with their munch abilities and flipping you around on their dicks at night they cant their mind out the gutter. 

PREVIOUS READING

PILE  2

Hey to my lesbian girlypop. How is your cherry doing ? I hope you had all the fun you wanted while I was gone, if not good news the fun is coming. 

Your next partner's sexual thoughts about you, that they would be afraid to admit is that they want you. I think this person presents themself as straight until they meet you and you set fire to their POV. You may actually never know this person is thinking about you that way and if you miss the clue, you are going to miss out on a beautiful opportunity for some good sex because they are pretty lowkey. I ain't going to lie no matter what, this is not going to transform into a full blown relationship. You may have a habit of falling in love with a good box so guard yourself. Don't worry, this person is a gentle soul. I see y’all being FWB. Everytime they are going to think about it in a sexual manner is going to shook them because that's not who they are. They never wanted and thought of playing in the rainbow before you. They will take extra time reminiscing about your tits and your natural curvy body. Most of y’all reading this have an hourglass body or pear body no matter slim or thick. Y’all going to have good sex after having an honest discussion regarding y’all desires and the way y’all want to deal with it. 

Her love language is physical touch. She might get extra affectionate with you because she loves the feel of your bust on her. Another hint, you may need to catch. Funny enough, she also has a habit of falling in love which is quicker than you. Idk the relationship may be chaotic not the toxic kind and the sex bomb. Maybe because it comes with forbidden feelings. Anyways the ball is in your court, you decide if you want to mess with that or keep going in your dry spell era. 

PREVIOUS READING

PILE 3 

How are you doing queen ? It has been a whole month since I left and you are still bedrotting ? What happens with all your goals set in Jan 2025… huh ? No, don't go away, I'm not stepping on your neck (this time at least). I am not here for that TODAY. Today is all about love and good vibes and you deserve all that. Even when you think you don't …

Let's dive into it ! To begin with, your next partner is going to think you are porn star beautiful. Don't worry I was mad for you when I got that message. Me (yesterday) : WTF DO U MEAN PORNSTAR BEAUTY ! Are u sex addicts because I swear my babes deserve better than that … Until my spiritual team told me to calm my butt down. Your next partner is no sex addict and he dont think your makeup is cakey. What he tries to make me understand is you have every attribute to make any man fall on their knees yet you are too insecure. In his sexual dream regarding you, you are more confident. Your dominant planet may be Venus and you may have a stellium in Taurus because everything you do is so sexy and sensual. Some of y’all have a rising sign in Scorpio with all that I have mentioned, damm another day wishing I could see y’all gorgeous face. Your voice is sweet like honey but very sexually inviting. Like you can be reciting a grocery list and you would make these men have blue balls. He could be on facetime masturbating to you just doing your laundry. You have a natural pretty face, your mannerism is enchanting and your voice oulalala dont worry they will not. If in your future you are down for that, you don't have to ask them twice. Calling you is their bad habit. They love receiving voice memos from you. Also they think you are hiding some kind of sexual talent. Maybe you know how to ride it well or you give good head. They know you are uncomfortable when it comes to sex. Most of you, your ex took your spark away when it comes to being sexy (funny this is single since birth …). Or maybe somebody you thought you were in a relationship with the whole time he was cheating with you which took your confidence away and left you with nothing but guilt.They want to feel like a boss, they would probably daydream about taking charge in the bedroom. Not full blown dominatrix but telling them where you want them to put their hands. Where you want them to kiss. Holding their head down while their munching. Would love for you to express how good you make them feel and how it is only them making you feel that way. They LIVE for your validation and YOUR validation ONLY. For some it is someone from your past not the bad ex/situationship is actually somebody you have good moments with but you naturally drift away and you are going to reconnect again. Fucking them would be full of longing and euphoria. Is almost like fucking on the clouds, so dreamy and soft. They can sense a growth in you when they see again, that you may take for granted. When they left you were more of a people pleaser and when they are coming back you have an ease in displaying your boundaries which they are going to be so proud of you for changing. I keep hearing : babygirl & ‘’ I am so proud of you’’. Throughout all your relationship they are always going to celebrate your wins whether they are small or huge. 

This man is definitely a white one. There's a high chance he has blue eyes and blond hair. Also he walks around with a sex playlist … lol. 

PREVIOUS READING

PILE 4

Hey my wild rides. I missed your chaos. Don't tell the other you are secretly my fav energy (y’all : I could have swear a couple post ago, you said gentle & delicate soul were your fav… me: No need to fight ladies, Shesca has enough love for all of you (no me entering my douchebag era)). Anyways what kind of mess did you create and left like it was not your fault while I was gone. Is ok, you right … How could it ever be your fault? 

That being said, let's go back to the business that pays me (shameless promo, go get a private reading !). Talking about shamelessness, you like big dicks. Don't try to hide the cards rat you out a long time ago. Since it is supposed to be for my single since birth, y’all may have a size kinks. Which shows me that your type may be tall muscles guys. You may have something for big biceps. You don't want them gym rat way but more nerds type way that still go to the gym and send you pictures after they are done. I know your pussy just did that crazy twirl, let's calm down lady. The next person you are going to deal with is going to be your dreams come true. They are going to want you to be hooked on them and to only have eyes for them. Honestly they may be quite stoic from the outside in even their sense of style is quite minimal ( just wanted to add that they smell extra good) but inside they are fucking golden retrivers. They would do anything for you to compliment them. They will put that work in the bedroom girl ! Just for you, the pillow princess to say it was good. Is like a reward for them. You guys will need to find a middle ground. That is what they think about because compared to them you are tiny. They can easily break, they are actually scared of hurting you. Or embarrassing you with a run at the emergency room because he decided to go to deep inside. He will have an Aries mars … shit. Big dig, size kink and Aries mars … don't worry I am already calling the police on your behalf. In their daydream regarding your naked body, they are not actually picturing you naked. They are pictureing y’all kissing, caressing each other's body and you asking for more and them telling you, he can't because he is scared of hurting you.  

That person is an amazing cuddler and loves cuddling. Do not joke around about cuddling time, it may be one of your couple's traditions. Maybe before bed is mandatory y’all cuddle. Y’all may also have a tradition of always showering together.  He is also very vocal in the bedroom, talks dirty, moans, grunts and may even beg …

PREVIOUS READING

[abbygailfox]

This is so, so important.

The amount of posts I have read – especially during the last few weeks – about how people think that she has always been this way and she wrote Harry Potter with the intention of pushing her agenda onto children from a very young age.

I truly, honestly think that that's incredibly dangerous. Because it operates under the believe that people's believes always stay the same. It stems from a black-and-white mindset in which people are – in the most simple of terms – either "good" or "bad" and they always stay that way. That is not the case. People are never unchanging in their views. They are made and influenced by things that happen to and around them. Constantly. And usually that is even a good thing. We measure the ability of critical thinking by observing how someone reacts to new information. If we give people information that they did not have before, we expect them to reconsider their stance. However that also means that we need to check ourselves again and again and again. And to do that tomorrow as well. And next week. And next year. And every day that comes after that again. It's a never ending process.

Because human beings never stop changing. And we are so easily influenced. Mainly because of two things:

1) All of us – every single one – want's to belong somewhere. Some of us may enjoy being alone, yes. But no-one ever wants to be lonely. And people have done and will do horrendous things to prevent being lonely.

2) If we have power, we don't want to let go of it. Especially if we know what it feels like not to have any. That doesn't mean that no-one ever does. There are good people in this world. But our first impulse is always to hold onto what makes us stronger and harder to hurt. And power does that.

Number 1) is what makes it so easy for people to get caught up in even the most ridiculous, dangerous or hateful cults and why it is so incredibly hard to leave them again. Because as soon as you can push a "we against them" agenda, you are a part of the "we". You're part of a group. You belong. No-one in their right mind would want to leave that. The situation – of yourself or someone you hold extremely dear – has to be incredibly dire for you to leave everything you know behind, leave your entire social circle, and subsequently be helpless, lost, potentially without means and confronted with people who don't understand why you joined in the first place. Who will potentially make fun of you and exclude you.

Number 2) is what happened to Rowling, I suppose. I don't know Rowling and at this point I don't care to. But she also probably didn't just wake up one day and said: "Actually I like all this money and power and the platform I have now quite a lot. But if I help marginalised groups to get more power, I might loose some of my own. So let's hate on them instead." No. It happens in increments. Maybe one day she was asked to give up more money than she was comfortable with for "some charity". And she decided the cause wasn't worth it, because after all, it was "just trans-people" and wait a minute what have "they" ever done for her? Or for women in general? In fact, couldn't their mere existence be a hinderance to the progression of women's rights? And after all it's her money. She worked hard for it. They could have done the same thing, but they didn't, did they? Or something else entirely, I can only speculate. (I don't support any of that, obviously. I'm trying to show how you slip into this kind of thinking.)

The point is, non of this is noticeable in the beginning. All these processes are gradual.

No cult just knocks on your door and goes: "We have the most insane conspiracy theories out there, science is a scam, we won't allow you to take modern medicine and we will drain all our your financial means to a point where you are helpless without us. By the way, do you have any LGBTQIA people in your social circle? We don't condone those. But hey, we can provide you with people who will act like they are your friends. You know, to substitute the ones that you will inevitably push away, if you join us. Heads up though, if you try to leave, we will blackmail you." No racist (or at least very few) will just come up to you and say: "I have this theory, that white people are better than people of colour. Let me convince you of it." (And frankly most people are not self-aware enough to realise when they are being racist.)

It will always start small. It will seem reasonable and harmless in the beginning. Some of the arguments you might even agree with. And suddenly you are in too deep, to get out.

This is NOT – and I cannot stress this enough – meant to be any sort of excuse for Rowling. I think the woman and the bullshit she spews is truly vile. This is also not meant to condemn all people in positions of power, because there are counterexamples – even if they get way to little attention. There are rich people who give money to science. Silently and without a self-serving agenda. Famous people who speak up for all kinds of marginalised groups. Powerful people that do invest in slowing climate change. There are powerful people giving a shit, just as much as there are people in marginalised groups that hate on everyone else and buy into a "we against them" agenda. (It's never black and white).

And please don't misunderstand me. You absolutely have every right to be angry at the bitch. You *should* be fucking angry. At anyone who tries to hurt and invalidate you. You should be livid. I am too. Oppose hatred wherever you find it. Oppose every vile word that comes out of Rowling's mouth, every anti-human rights bullshit you hear. Not just from her, but from everybody around you. Protect yourself and others. Do whatever you need to do to cope, especially if people don't just attack your believe in everyone being treated equally, but if they hit you on a more personal level. (Frankly, I personally get twitchy when people burn books – no matter which ones – mainly because I am German and pictures like those do not have great connotations in my world. But everyone copes differently.)

However the point is, the focus of this conversation has turned to "Harry Potter" way too much. (Yes, it makes her money, but we're not about to stop that, at this point. And I'll leave the decision, if the work can be separated from the author, enough to engage with content that does not make her money, for everyone to decide for themselves. The debate has been going on since before Roland Barthes discussed it [yes I know he mainly meant the level of influence the authors bibliography had on the text, it's still the same argument, but with a different aspect], using multiple prominent figures as examples. That is something every single person has to decide for themselves and we cannot push our decisions onto others.)

What I am really trying to make you understand is: We all like to think about ourselves, that we would use our power for good if we had any. That we would treat all people equally and would use our money to further the cause of all marginalised people in the world. End world hunger, end poverty, end the patriarchy, the list is endless. But we do not know if we would do that. Because we are not in the situation to do so. We do not know if – on the road to power – we would have kept the same three friends, that call us out on behaving like an asshole. We don't know if we could have kept a hold on our humility and our worldview and our ability to still see people in positions of less power and feel the urge to help.

What I am really, really trying to say in this rant (and I know it is endlessly long and I apologise) is this:

Nothing in life. EVER. Is black and white. You are not on the "good side", because you once made a selfless decision. Other people are not on the "bad side" because they have power or money. And the borders are not clear-cut. There are so many shades of grey. You can always ALWAYS slip. And you probably won't notice. EVERY SINGLE PERSON on this planet is corruptible. And this is not meant to discourage you. I don't mean to paint our world and our society as hopeless, because they are NOT. You are not condemned to become some soulless creature that does not care a lick about others, simply because you get to a place of greater power. This is in fact meant to encourage you. Encourage you to call others out. Especially encourage you to call yourself out. Encourage you to listen, truly listen, to people when they tell you, that you're being an ass about something. Maybe they are wrong. But maybe they are right. You can be influenced. But you can also influence how you yourself behave and how you treat people. How you view people. Not just groups, but individuals also. Have the courage to be kind. To everyone. And have the courage to question. Yourself and others. Check yourself and your thinking. Always. And if you think this could never happen to you and you could never harm people or mentally sort them into groups to be stigmatised and thusly easier pushed aside… Check yourself twice!

ok im going to #seriouspost for a second here. I don't think Harry Potter is a manifesto. I think it was a flawed passion project that millennials latched onto because of the fantasy of sticking it to their mean teachers and arbitrarily categorizing themselves (hogwarts houses; it's the thinking millennial's astrology). I think the fact that the series got popular when and how it did was very much a product of its time.

I don't think Harry Potter is the biggest symbol of JKR's bigotry. I think the most flagrant sign of that was how she responded to critics. I watched her become radicalized in real time. I watched how she doubled down on her racism when she was called out for the ways she promoted her tragically mid fantastic beasts movies. I watched her chase marginalized teenagers with a double digit follower count off of twitter for daring to criticize her thought process, and no one with any kind of power standing against her because she was the one who was paying them. This isn't to say Harry Potter is without flaws. This is to say she really didn't give a shit about that. Getting rich and powerful is a hell of a drug, and she had enough sycophants that she had no reason to care about what her critics were saying.

She was convinced that she was a martyr; a voice for the unheard; a leader for the ages, so of course her detractors were the bad guys. And I think we should take this to heart. We should see this as an example of how easy it is to get radicalized; if you think of yourself as a paragon of virtue, you are going to think that whatever you see as good and right is an objective fact. Most people don't know this, but the majority of terfs start out as trans allies. You are not immune to propaganda! You are not immune to falling into dangerous ideologies!!!

This is why the most important thing you can do as an activist is to listen. Do NOT think you're above being wrong; do NOT develop a god complex; do NOT form an identity out of being right all the time. Involve yourselves in the groups you claim to speak for. Listen to trans women; share resources that help trans women; familiarize yourself with the diversity of experiences that trans people have and the struggles they face.

No, none of you are as bad as JKR because you don't have her money or her power. You will likely never have the capacity for harm she does. But check yourselves. Do not affirm yourselves into thinking you always have the moral high ground. Watch yourselves; humble yourselves; check yourselves for signs of cult behavior and internalized prejudice. You are always learning. You will always be learning. Do not allow yourselves to get a power trip from brushing off marginalized voices.

[roanofarcc]

MEDDLING KIDS

pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader (requested)

summary: when your fellow thunderbolts find out you have a crush on yelena, they make it their mission to tease you about it (and maybe help you out a little along the way too)

warnings: some self-depricating thoughts from reader; crushes and meddling teammates; bucky is team mom

word count. 2.1k || masterlist

It started out as admiration, a simple feeling of awe for Yelena Belova. She was awe-worthy, an ex-window with skills and strength to take down attackers, a natural leader with a dry sense of humor, and a secret softie with an urge to protect those she cared for - whether they were a grown man or a rescued guinea pig. 

Somewhere along the way, as the team formed and moved into the Watchtower, your admiration shifted into something else. You found yourself growing affection toward the blonde, laughing at her jokes that weren’t even that funny, offering to help her with errands to simply be around her, and stuttering when she tossed out the occasional compliment. It was a disaster waiting to happen, you knew that much. 

A crush was one thing, but having one on your roommates/teammates was another. Yelena was hard to read and was so focused on the team that she hardly talked or did anything else. You doubted she time to entertain your feelings. And you doubted she felt the same way.

You were too in your head about it; you knew that. But it was hard not to be when you were constantly around her with a complicated back and forth of your crush and self-doubt. 

“You’re doing it again,” Ava said, eyeing you from across the kitchen table. She begrudgingly enjoyed a breakfast made by Walker, stabbing her eggs with a roll of her eyes as he served you and her plates with a cocky grin. 

“What?” you asked, averting your gaze down onto your plate. 

“Staring like a love-sick school girl,” Ava replied. “And before you try to deny it, don’t.” 

You closed your mouth, swallowing your objection as you sank back in your seat. Walker took a seat at the table, everyone else having already eaten earlier. “Are you talking about her crush on Yelena?” he asked. 

“Oh, my God. Say it louder. I don’t think they heard you in Jersey!” you snapped and buried your head in your hands, mortified. Your crush on Yelena was supposed to remain between you and your mind, no one else. But your new teammates prided themselves on being nosy. Okay, and maybe you weren't the most subtle. Still, they could’ve done you the favor of staying quiet about it. 

Walker laughed. “Come on, it’s kind of obvious. Even Bucky’s mentioned it, and he ignores us most of the time.” 

“I’m going to throw myself off the balcony,” you muttered, sinking lower in your seat. 

Ava even smiled, and you momentarily wished for her and Walker’s bickering over the current topic of conversation. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just Yelena, not a shark. I don’t think she’ll bite, unless you ask her to.” 

“I’m not asking her anything,” you hissed, glaring at the two. “This is not one of those crushes where you admit it to the other person, okay?!” 

Ava furrowed her brows. “You have crushes where you don’t tell the person how you feel? What’s the point?” 

It was Walker’s turn to be confused. “You tell people you have a crush on them?” Ava nodded like that was a super easy and normal thing. “That’s crazy.” 

“What do you do about it, exactly?” 

“Nothing,” Walker replied with a shrug.

You gestured to him. “See! Exactly. I’ll do nothing, and eventually it’ll go away.” 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I expected this kind of emotional constipation from Walker, but not from you. But if you want to die alone, be my guest.” 

The heavy footsteps from combat boots sounded, pulling your, Ava, and Walker’s attention. Much to their humor and your horror, Yelena strode in with her training bag slung over her shoulder and hair tousled from her session. You busied your hands with your mug of coffee and tried to ignore the heat that flooded your face. 

“Who is dying alone?” Yelena asked, dropping her bag on the floor beside the counter and pouring herself a mug of coffee. 

Ava and Walker exchanged glances with you, then with each other. Before you could get ahead of whatever they were about to say, Ava shrugged Yelena’s question off coolly. “Doesn’t everyone?” 

Yelena raised her brows, biting into a piece of toast that Walker had left on a plate on the counter. “Wow, that’s a cheery morning conversation. Do I need to call Bucky and have him up your time at therapy, because I can totally do that.” 

Ava glared playfully at the blonde before phasing beside her, plucking the piece of toast from her grasp, then phasing back into her seat. 

“You bitch,” Yelena said with a grin. 

You thought the conversation would turn onto something else, maybe a new mission or something unrelated to you and your feelings. But you had missed the mischievous glint in Walker’s eyes. He leaned back in his chair and looked around the group. 

“You know how Alexei’s been hounding us for a movie night?” he said, oddly and out of the blue. 

“Oh, yeah,” Ava said, stretching out the last word suspiciously. “Walker and I were thinking about it, and we…well, we kind of feel bad for shutting him down every time.” 

Yelena looked surprised. “You two feel bad about rejecting movie night? Do you have fevers?” 

“No, we just, we’re trying to be more of…” Ava glanced at you, a stupid smile playing on her lips. “Team players.” 

“Yeah,” Walker added, sharing a similar look. “A movie night won’t kill us.” 

You pressed your lips in a thin line, trying to figure out what the hell they were up to. 

“How about you?” Yelena asked, drawing your attention. 

Under the table, Ava kicked your shin hard. You bit your lip and nodded before finding your voice. “S-Sure. That sounds fun.” 

With a shrug, Yelena agreed. “All right. I’ll tell Alexei movie night’s on tonight.” She left the kitchen, focus drawn to her phone as she texted her dad, who had probably forced his way into a morning jog with Bucky. Once she was out of the room and earshot, you glared daggers at the two at the table. 

“What was that?” 

They just smiled, gathered their dishes from their downed breakfast, and left. 

“Uh, where is everyone?” You entered the living room dressed in your pajamas and carrying a blanket. You expected to see the rest of your team arguing over seats or popcorn bowls, but the only person there was Yelena, seated in the middle of the sofa with a large bowl of popcorn in her lap and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. 

She shrugged, tapping on her phone. Her brows furrowed as she read something on the screen. “Those little assholes all bailed,” she said. 

You mentally cursed at Ava and Walker and started forming some kind of plan to get back at them. “All of them? This was Alexei’s plan, and Bob doesn’t even like to leave the tower.” 

“I know,” Yelena hummed. “But I guess something came up.” She seemed much more indifferent about the team bailing than you, but that was likely due to the fact that you knew Ava and Walker had set you up to be alone with Yelena. How they got the others to agree, you had no idea, but they had. 

You shifted from one foot to another, toying with the blanket in your hand. “Well, I guess movie night’s off then.” 

Yelena looked at you oddly. “Why?” 

“Because no one’s here?” 

She pointed to herself, then at you. “Are we not here?” You rolled your eyes in response, and she smirked. “Come on! That means we don’t have to fight with everyone to pick a movie.” She patted the spot on the couch directly next to her before starting to flip through movie options on the screen. 

Ignoring the quickening of your heartbeat at being alone with Yelena without at least one team member there to prevent any awareness you may cause, you joined her, leaving a good amount of space between the two of you. 

You two settled on a movie rather quickly, and Yelena placed the popcorn bowl in the space between you. For a while, you sat in silence and focused on the film. You tried to ignore the little voice in your head that was in override at your current situation. If you didn’t want things to be weird, you had to bury your crush. Yelena was your friend, your teammate, that was all. 

It wasn’t until the movie was nearly over that Yelena broke the silence. “Are you okay?” 

You looked at her, slightly startled by the question. “Yeah. Why?” 

She shrugged, eyes focused on the screen. “You’ve seemed weird lately.” 

“Oh,” you said quietly. Have you been weird? Around Yelena, maybe. You know you didn’t interact with her as much as you had when you first met, but you didn’t think she’d notice. 

“I guess I should have asked you if you even wanted to watch a movie, huh? I’m not always the best at that. Blame my dad for that.” 

You studied the side of her face, gently illuminated by the glow of TV. Your chest ached; your feelings bubbled against your will. With a sigh, you shook your head and forced yourself to focus on anything else. 

“No, I wanted to,” you said. 

It was her turn to look at you. You felt her eyes and couldn’t help but meet them. A small smile rested on her lips as she moved the empty popcorn bowl onto the coffee table before scooting closer to you. There was still a space between you, a friendly space, but your heart beat faster anyway. 

“Good,” she said, snatching half of your blanket from your lap and tossing it over her legs as she kicked her feet up on the coffee table. “If I’m being honest, I was kind of glad everyone bailed. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do like those assholes. I really do. But I felt like we hadn’t gotten a chance to, you know, hang out.” 

“You wanted to hang out with me?” The words slipped out before you could even think about it. You had a hard time understanding why Yelena would want to hang out with just you. It wasn’t that you didn’t think you two were friends, but you assumed you were just the kind of friends that exist in a group. 

She stared at you like you had said the most insane thing. “Duh? You are…nice.” 

The softness in her tone unfurled some of the tension and nervousness in your body. “I think you’re nice too.” 

“The others can be nice, but with you I am…I don’t know…comfortable.” She paused as her words sank into you, sending your mind into a whirlwind of confusion. Then, she laughed, deep and raspy. “Sorry, that sounds crazy.” 

“No,” you said quickly. “It doesn’t.” 

Yelena held your gaze for a moment longer before she dragged her eyes back onto the screen. You did the same, a dizzy feeling comfortably wrapping its way around your head. Her words were the only thing you thought about as you began to doze off on the couch, mind filled with her pretty smile and intense gaze. 

Tip-toeing into the tower’s living room, Ava and Walker led the charge. They stopped, peaking around the wall that held the TV. 

“I told you,” Ava whispered, digging her elbow into Walker’s side. 

He wanted to retort with a snarky comment, but refrained, smiling fondly at the sight in front of them. 

Even Alexei managed to stay quiet as he fumbled for his cell phone and held it up. “Oh, this is getting framed for New Avengerz Christmas card,” he said in the quietest voice they’d ever heard from him. He snapped a photo, almost giddy. 

On the couch, with a movie long since over, you and Yelena slept sharing a blanket, your head resting on her shoulder, and her arm draped lazily around you.

The sight was sugary sweet, even enough for Bucky to crack a smile. 

“They look so cozy,” Bob whispered.

Alexei tossed an arm around Bob’s shoulders, causing him to tense up momentarily before relaxing. “That, my boy, is young love.” 

Bucky chuckled softly. “All right, let’s not push it. And-” he looked pointedly between Ava and Walker. “Less meddling, okay?” 

With a roll of her eyes, Ava replied, “Yes, mom.” 

The group broke apart, leaving you and Yelena to spend the rest of the night sleeping together on the couch. 

As they made their way toward their bedroom, Walker knocked his shoulder with Ava’s. “We’re not actually stopping meddling to get them together, right?” 

She eyed him, smirking lightly. “Not a chance.”

[ambernotember]

one more try

They’ve been on scene for a little over an hour. Buck has spent most of that time popping open car doors and doing basic triage while a trail of paramedics follow behind him and Ravi, getting people onto stretchers or giving them the okay to walk to the tents that have been set up. For all that it’s a major pileup, they’ve been lucky in that there are no car fires, and while there have been serious injuries, none so far have been life threatening.

“Hen, I’ve got a patient with unequal pupils here. She needs to be on the next transport out,” Buck heard Ravi say over the radio.

“The last ambulance just left, Chim and I will come get her but it’ll be a bit before one’s back,” she replied.

“I don’t know if that’s going to be soon enough,” Ravi said. “She’s not looking too good.”

“We’re on our way,” Hen told him. A pause. “She’ll have transport by the time we get her out.”

Buck had finished clearing his lane, so he headed over to help Ravi and his patient too. Hen and Chim were right behind him with a stretcher, and he and Ravi helped load the patient once they’d given her a second look.

“How are we getting her out of here?” Ravi asked.

Buck realized the answer seconds before Hen pointed skyward, her response almost drowned out by the sudden noise from the helicopter blades.

“That’s how!” she called. “Ravi, Chim, finish this lane. Buck, help me load her.”

Buck should have known his luck wouldn’t hold when he’d seen the 217 arrive without Tommy. The universe had just been waiting to taunt him until it could make sure they’d be face to face. Well, maybe he’d be so focused on setting the helicopter down he wouldn’t notice Buck. Buck ducked his head as he held onto the back of the stretcher and followed Hen; it didn’t really make him less noticeable but he could at least try.

The helicopter set down in the intersection the police had cleared. Hen and Buck moved forward with the patient as soon as the back door slid open, and Buck was really not prepared to look up and see Tommy in the back of the helicopter instead of the pilot’s seat.

“Aren’t you usually in the front of these things?” Hen called over the noise.

“Stretched a little thin today, just filling in where I’m needed,” Tommy called back, nodding towards the 217 truck. “You already had the rest of our paramedics.” He made eye contact with Buck before looking back to Hen and the patient. “Anything else we need to know?”

Hen shook her head. “Tell Melton thanks,” she gestured to the front of the helicopter. Tommy gave her a thumbs up and reached for the door handle.

“Tommy!” Buck found his voice. His conversation with Maddie flashed through his mind. Tommy looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow, waiting. “I love you,” he blurted out.

Hen’s eyes went wide.

Tommy looked at him. Opened his mouth. Closed it. “I have to— go,” he said. “Dinner? Saturday?”

“Eight pm,” Buck agreed, his smile so wide it was almost painful. “Pick me up.”

“Okay,” Tommy’s smile appeared like the sun after rain. “It’s a date.” He shot his dorky finger guns at Buck before he closed the door.

Buck waved as they took off, only turning back to Hen when they were too far away to see him.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Good for you,” she said. “Now stop mooning and get back to work.”

“Yes Cap,” he saluted her.

“Now, or you’re cleaning as well as cooking this week,” she threatened.

“I clean as I go,” he reminded her, then dodged the forehead flick she’d aimed at him.

“This is an open channel,” Melton’s aggrieved voice came over the radio.

“I know,” Tommy replied. “but uh, I just wanted to say, same, Firefighter Buckley.”

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Buck — good for you and get back to work,” Hen said into the radio. She made a shooing motion at Buck.

“Sorry Cap,” Tommy said.

“Oh, did it work?” Chimney asked excitedly from behind Buck.

“Chimney, shut up,” Hen hissed.

Buck threw his arms around her and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek.

“Oh my god Buckley, be a professional! I’m your captain!”

[sam-keeper]

Hey Look At This Comic: Calvin and Hobbes

I liked the idea of putting some more daily strip comics into my rss reader, and gocomics DOES post old strips in sequence every day (keeping archival materials in lively circulation 👍), and there IS a site that generates an rss feed for gocomics (they don't provide rss feeds themselves because they want you to subscribe 👎) so, I added the current Nancy run to my feed, alongside Peanuts and Calvin and Hobbes. a few days later it paid off big time with this strip:

I love this strip, but it's a bit weird, isn't it? I'm sure some people read the way you're "supposed to" move panel to panel in a typical comic: left to right across the top strip, then the middle, then the bottom. Easy. I didn't, though. My eyes darted across the page, circled around the upper left hand panels, before zipping to the big point of interest on the page: that big panel of Calvin's teacher as a great pink alien monster! the second panel in strip two, the view through the spaceship porthole of the alien landscape, got orphaned, turned into something I glanced at after the fact as I pieced the sequence back together.

which might just be how comics reading actually goes, in practice. more recent theories of comics, particularly ones coming out of the Franco-Belgian tradition, suggest we take in the page as a whole first before diving in panel by panel. that bottom left corner is also kind of a privileged position on the page, with a beautifully lumpy and toothy monster filling up almost the whole frame. no wonder my eye was drawn there "ahead of sequence"!

is that a mistake? one of my friends, when I posed the question, thought so, that the strip means to build up to that point but the page composition encourages you to read ahead. She also, intriguingly, suggested to me that even though we enter the strip seeing the whole page, we induce a kind of forgetfulness in ourselves so that we don't get spoiled. when we see the monster, do we already know it's there while experiencing it for the first time? (hypnosis, she suggested to me, is "merely a set of circumstances to help the mind do a set of things that it already does every day".)

others corroborated the weird reading orders but suggested it was deliberate. for Sarah, the whole left side of the page draws your eye down compositionally, from Spaceman Spiff's (Calvin's alter ego) gloved hands on the wheel, down to the Z shaped mesa, to the monster. this cuts out almost two thirds of the comic! but for her and a few other friends, that made sense: Calvin is daydreaming in class, and the point where his teacher pops up in front of him to demand his attention is a moment of concrete interest in a hazy sea of nonlinear sensation. another friend drew a diagram of an even weirder reading pattern:

actually, I think this makes some sense. theorist Thierry Groensteen's notion of "braiding" in comics suggests that we're constantly recomposing comics in our brains, not just panel by panel, but over the whole corpus of panels, looking for rhymes and resonances and ways the story relates to itself. it feels a little like panels 2 and 3 rhyme, to me. the frames are long and thin more than any of the others, they both have this prominent horizon line, and they both sit on top of panels 4 and 5. they relate to each other, to the point where I see how you could jump from one to the other, then back up the page and over! if I understand Groensteen right, he's not suggesting we necessarily jump around the page this way, I don't want to put words in his mouth, but I do think one of the implications of braiding and of taking in the whole page is that we might get off track and start wandering through time and space... which is exactly what Calvin is doing, after all.

I love that the actual joke of the strip hinges on these two little panels buried at the bottom of the page: the only shot not from Calvin's point of view, of him looking frazzled after Mrs Wormwood's dressing down, and then a little panel of him holding the book. that's braiding too: we understand the previous and future panels because we draw an analogy between all the perspectives we've seen elsewhere of hands (or claws) and get that Calvin is drifting into a daydream again, taking on a new role. the scenario shifts, and the color scheme changes to a complimentary one (red to green), but both daydreams are much more powerful, on the page, than the interruption by reality.

how do you read the page?

you can read more reviews in the Hey Look At This Comic tag and support me on Patreon.

[jackabbotsfakeleg]

As Above, So Below I Chapter 3- The Oceans Grew Hands to Hold Me

Synopsis: Two attendings, one new psychologist working both the day and night shifts on a rotation. You could have sworn you heard both of them call “dibs,” and you’re more than willing to entertain the both of them. Tonight, it's Robby's turn. Pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Fem!Reader and Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader  Word count: 2.5k Warnings: Talk of mental illness and other psychological things, violence, dark humor, and some smut :) 18+, MDNI  A/N: I am crying, screaming, and throwing up over the amount of traction and support this has gotten. Y'all are so sweet. Work was so stupid this week, so i apologize for how short this is. Chapter 4 will be up hopefully by the weekend :). Also, all of the chapters are song titles and I'm an elder emo, so i listen to the songs when I write these. The song for this chapter is "The Ocean Grew Hands to Hold Me" by The Wonder Years, in case you want to get sad deep in your bones like me.   Chapter 2 I Chapter 4 Tag list is open!  @loud-mouph @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @thebumbqueen @emilia-the-artist @boldlyherdream @felicisimor@eugene-emt-roe @i-mushi @andabuttonnose @moonlightmvrvel @miss-me-jack @dantemorenatalie @qardasngan@agreeewrites @aloudplace @painment @artsymaddie @d1n3e @damnitsthings @thicficbich1 @readinwnoon @imagines-r-s @meowmeowyoongles @ikindier @katastrophic04 @lexibearsworld @luna-loves08 @herlovelykiss @all-by-myself98 @livingavilaloca @trustme3-13

Chapter 3: The Ocean Grew Hands to Hold Me

"I'm gonna guard what's left of the good in us When the ash blocks out the sky And hold you with my left hand And ball up my right And if the bastards come for both of us I'll be right there by your side I'm by your side"

There's a moment in time, after the door closes and the liquid courage begins to wear off, where the room goes silent, your heartbeat reverberating in your ears There's no going back after this, kid. It's terrifying and unnerving and deeply electric.

You watch Robby lean back against the couch, exhaling loudly, a smile on his face, trying to come down from the high of having a girl kneeling between his legs,  his fingers in your mouth,  eyes closed –like he's trying to commit this to memory.

You move from the couch towards the refrigerator without saying a word,  Both arms on the open doors, appreciating the cold air on your hot cheeks.  Don't let him see you sweat.  Your hand wraps itself another bottle of beer But before you have a chance to open it, there are hands at your waist, this time, sliding under your shirt intentionally His fingers are warm against your skin, His breath, hot on your neck.

You can almost feel the smile on his face when he says it, lips to your ear

"Maybe some water?" 

"You think I'm drunk?" You turn around to face him, his hands sliding from your waist to your hips to steady you.

"I think" he steps forward, guiding you backwards, until your back is up against the island, his hips pressing into yours, "you've got an alcohol sensitivity."

Two fingers find your throat, pressing against your pulse point, a smirk on his face.

"Hot cheeks, increased heart rate, flushed skin," he leans forward, face inches from yours, still maintaining eye contact to grab a bottle of water on the counter behind you, untwisting the cap and handing it up to you, "drink."

"Yes, doctor." You roll your eyes as he watches you finish the bottle, "Any other medical observations you care to bestow? All this medical talk really turns a girl on.”

"Yeah, I'd like to take a look at your back.”

You take the opportunity to turn around, hands on the island in front of you, leaning up on your tip toes to grind your ass against him, "Sorry, do you remember what just happened all of 10 minutes ago? Or did I dissociate?"

He groans quietly, like he’s trying to keep it to himself, his fingers instinctively digging into the skin on your hips, pulling you against him, your back against his chest. Your hand finds the back of his neck, his lips to your ear, “Not yet.”

He takes a step back from you, and you huff at the loss of contact. 

He’s on his knees behind you before you can object, and he’s lifting your shirt up.

“It's barely nine o'clock, and you and I have the day off tomorrow, so we have all night,” His fingers press against your spine, palpating the muscles surrounding your scars, “So if it's okay with you, I'd like to squash my own intrusive thoughts that fucking you is going to worsen your injury”

“Intrusive thoughts? That’s my kind of word.”

“I may have borrowed a book from your office without your knowledge.”

“You playin’ hard to get?” You turn your head to look down at him, narrowing your eyes.

“A little bit. Why, you in a rush?”

“A little bit. Again, remember 15 minutes ago when you had your finger in my mouth?” You huff, “And remember earlier when I was joking about blowing you in my office? I’m not joking now, Michael. And you on your knees like that…”

He chuckles at your impatience and stands up palm sliding from your lower back up to the back of your neck, grabbing a fist full of hair, tugging gently, “Come on then.”

He takes your hand, leading you down the hallway into his bedroom. Just like every other room in his house, it’s beautiful, some real doctor money bullshit. One of the walls is ceiling to floor windows, there’s an attached bathroom with one of those rainfall shower heads, and it dawns on you that he must really fucking enjoy his days off.

You take a seat on the edge of his bed, and you reach out for him, hands pulling him towards you by the fabric of his shirt 

He stands between your legs, looking down at you. You slide your palms under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, his fingers trace your jaw, lifting your chin to look up at him.

“We’re supposed to be having fun,” You frown

“Are you not having fun?”

“I am having about as much fun as I can have with our clothes still on. Unless you have scrabble?”

“Me obliterating you at scrabble does sound incredibly sexy.”

“Cool it, med school. I could have gone pro. Now take off your shirt.” You tug at the bottom of his shirt 

“You know, you’re incredibly impatient.”

He eventually obliges, his hand reaching behind his head to pull his shirt off in one smooth motion.

“Oh, fuck off right now”,” You can’t help but reach out to run your fingers over the muscles of his abdomen, “You’ve been hiding this under that hoodie?”

He shakes his head at you, rolling his eyes, pleased with himself.

“Ok now these” you smile up at him, hands finding the buttons of his pants, his hands covering yours before you can unbutton them

“You’re so demanding.”

“Can you just let me enjoy this?”  you push his body away from you making a rotating motion with your hand, “Spin for me?”

“I’m not going to spin”

“Please? I’m a visual learner,” you whine

“you’re still clothed,” he points out 

“YOU’RE still clothed,," you counter, smiling

“Will you shut the fuck up?” He can’t help but laugh at the back and forth, “stand up.”

“Now who is being bossy?” You stand up so you’re face to face, “It’s really sexy. More of that please.” 

“Lift up your arms” It’s more of a directive than a suggestion. 

You raise your hands above your head so he can lift off your shirt. He runs his fingers up your arms, over your shoulders, along your neck, to your cheeks, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. His left hand cradles your jaw, his right hand in your hair. He leans in, and at first, it’s just his lips on yours, moving slowly. He retreats for a moment before his lips closes around your bottom lip, before sinking his teeth gently into the flesh. It’s a good kind of pain, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make an audible moan escape from your throat. He lets go, his lips brushing against yours again, gentle and lingering, until your mouth parts slightly beneath his kiss granting him access. He breathes out as you breathe in as his mouth claims yours. Your hands at his waist, pulling his hips against yours, feeling how hard he is. 

“Now, will you be a good girl and tell me what you actually want?” He smirks against your mouth, his voice low, as you nod against him. 

“Yeah, I still want you to take off your pants and spin for me”

He laughs, a genuine, deep in his chest laugh. It catches him off guard, like he was expecting you to just melt into a puddle after he kissed you. 

“You’re incredible.”

“I’m serious,” You press your lips to his jaw, trailing kisses down his neck as he unbuttons his pants and slides them down his hips, stepping out of them. A breathy groan leaves his lips, his hands moving to your hips, pushing you backwards until your back is against the window. You slip your hand inside his boxers, and slide your palm against his length, a barely audible “fuck” coming out of his mouth, his head falling against your shoulder. You wrap your fingers around his cock and draw him out with one long stroke.

“Get on your knees. I want to watch you.” 

You oblige, kneeling in front of him. You lick the palm of your hand before wrapping your fingers around his throbbing cock, stroking him twice before pressing your lips to the tip. His hand lifts the hair from your neck, holding it in a ponytail behind you to get a better view of you taking him fully into your mouth, twisting your tongue around his shaft like you’re tracing the line on an ice cream swirl. He gets harder every time you take him deep, his breath starting to catch. You look up at him, his eyes dark, focused on you taking as much of him as possible, leaning against the window to hold himself up with his free arm.

“Fuck,” he tightens the grip on your hair, hips thrusting forward to meet you halfway, and you hum against him. 

The look on his face as he watches himself disappear, is one of disbelief.  You trace your tongue along the underside of his cock once more before letting him slide out of your mouth.

You stand up, licking the length of his bottom lip before pressing your lips to his. He tries to wrap himself around your entire body, his mouth on any skin he can find—cheeks, shoulder, neck.  

You take a second to appreciate his flushed cheeks, dark brown eyes, chest heaving, and you reach out and trace a line from his forehead, down his nose, to his lips, and chin—something that would come to be understood as a safe gesture in the future.

“How about you fuck me in front of this window for everyone to see?”

You turn away from him, your palms flat against the window in front of you, and you feel his hands on your hips, pushing the material of your jeans and panties down. He bends down, his lips run along your spine, teeth biting the skin on your hip before standing back up, lips to your ear, sending a shiver up your spine, “If you only knew how many times I’ve came thinking about you in the last week.” 

He doesn’t waste any time, his hand sliding between your legs, two fingers making lazy circles around your clit before sliding them inside you, his cock pressing against your ass with every stroke of his fingers. The sound that leaves your mouth is a mix between a plea and a moan, as you rock back on your heels, feeling the warmth of his breath against your neck. He removes his hand, sucking both fingers into his mouth, before lining himself up, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit a few times before screwing himself inside. Bucking your hips back into his lap, you elicit a soft cry from his throat.. He buries himself to the hilt, and you sob out a breath, his hand running up your spine, grabbing your shoulder to gain leverage to thrust again. He kisses the back of your neck, where it meets your shoulders, and times it with a deep, hard stroke.

“Just like that” you nod, forehead pressed against the glass in front of you, “I’m so close.”

Touch yourself,” he groans, and you obey, fingers finding your swollen clit, “look at me. I want to watch you come”

Of course he’s into eye contact.

You turn your head to look at him, eyes meeting, a moan escaping from his mouth. It doesn’t take you long like this before you come, your walls squeezing him tightly, pleasure coursing through your body, his name on your lips.  He draws in and out twice, slowly, working himself right up to the very edge. Then, with one deep hard slam, he comes, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, fingers digging into your hips, soft moans escaping his mouth as his body spasms behind you. He pumps three more times, still trying to ride out his own orgasm, slumping against you.

“You’re incredible,” he pants, shifting his weight back on his heels, pulling out, pressing lazy wet kisses down your neck, and shoulder. You turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing the corner of his mouth. His lips are salty from sweat, his heart pounding against his ribs, and he walks backwards with you still in his arms towards his bed, “let me get a towel.”

He lets go of you long enough to disappear into the bathroom and come back with a towel, instructing you to lay down, while he cleans you up, his mouth pressing kisses to your legs, hips, and stomach. He lays down beside you and you roll onto your stomach, looking at him.

“Well that was definitely more fun than scrabble” you chuckle, and he nods in agreement.

“You’re better than I could have even dreamed,” he whispers, shaking his head like he can’t believe he’s saying it, rubbing a hand over his face.

“That was just the intro” you counter, “a rusty, shake out the nerves, jump back in the saddle kind of fuck. It’s going to be even better next time.”

“Next time” he nods, like he’s just remembered that this isn’t a one-night stand, “What are the parameters?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Is it just sex? Or can we go out in public? Can we hang out?”

“Whatever you want, Michael” you remind him, “it’s supposed to be fun, remember?”

"Aren't you worried?" "I'm always worried about a lot of things. Be more specific." "About the consequences of this arrangement?” "It sounds like you’re worried.”

“I am. I’m worried that you’re going to ruin me.”

"You’re worried about catching feelings, as the kids would say?”

“You’re not?”

“Feelings are not the enemy.  From a psychological standpoint it is impossible not to feel. If I held a gun to your head and told you to stop being sad, could you do that?" "No." He admits "Then the same goes for any other feeling. If you want more, want more.  If you're jealous of Jack, that's okay too. And if this is something that makes you sad, we don't have to do this. I'm not going to pretend that I feel nothing. I feel everything. I've been dying to feel something other than this deep fucking sadness in my bones. So no, I’m not worried I’m going to catch feelings because I already have them. We deserve to feel something.”

He sits with the words;  allows himself a moment to decide if he’s brave enough to dive in. And then he turns to look at you.

“Can I show you around?” “Your house?”  He nods.

The gesture is endearing; soft, safe. He takes your hand, and he maps his apartment like you’re going to be spending time here; the kitchen, the bathrooms, the guest room full of vinyl records Almost as if he’s trying to say, See, this is where you’re going to sleep See, this is where I’ll make you coffee See, this is where you’ll feel at home.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[11:57 am]

(cw: f!reader, profanity, mentions of sex and other heated scenarios, spin off of this)

Realistically, the last thing you'd expected from a Halloween make out with your best friend, fratboy!Haechan, was a friends with benefits situation. Especially after you both confessed your feelings for each other. You didn't feel like you should be the one to initiate the conversation about being official either. Like, hello?! You'd been the one to start the actual physical intimacy! You weren't the type of girl to go around and make out with just anyone!

You figured you were at least a little bit, the very slightest bit, also guilty for how long this... arrangement was going on. Could you really help it when he was just so eager to be affectionate? You were weak to his whining and begging. Your excuses for coming over to play video games or study weren't even actually believable anymore. Really, it was more like you were trying to convince yourself.

And that was the reason today. When you'd ducked upstairs without so much as a "hi" sent to the guys that were downstairs. An hour later when you both emerged from his room with swollen lips, wrinkled clothes, and messy hair, it became very obvious that no studying was going on at all.

Not that any of the guys ever believed it anyway. Sure, there was no shame behind closed doors. They guys know there's no shame. At all. You two passionate freaks are never quiet. Never. Even in front of them, Haechan never shies away from incessantly flirting or kissing you. So yeah, those excuses are really just for you.

Now though, you're leaned against the kitchen island, snacking on some chips and sipping on water after a very long and heated session of... whatever it was that happened in Haechan's room. To be honest, the second his lips touched your own, your brain melted and your sole purpose became to follow wherever he led you.

He was glued to your back, body pressed closely against your own as he slumped against you and blinked slowly, opening his mouth for you to feed him with a soft, "ahh" right in your ear when he wanted more. When his mouth wasn't busy with chewing, he was pressing soft, wet kisses on the side of your neck shamelessly.

"What the hell is going on in here?" You hear someone ask.

Slowly, probably because your mind isn't working to its full ability yet, you turn your head to find Johnny standing in the doorway with a look of disgust. You pop another chip between your lips before very casually asking, "we're snacking. Do you want some?"

"Yeah, he's snacking on your neck right now. I'm so confused right now," Johnny sighs with a shake of his head. He walks over to the fridge and gets himself his own water before leaning on the opposite end of the counter with a scrutinous gaze. He shakes a pointed finger between you and Haechan, "so what is this?"

Haechan gently sinks his teeth into the slope of your shoulder to draw a shiver from you before pulling away with an annoyed sigh, "bro, can my smoking hot girlfriend and I get some peace or are you going to stand there and judge like a freak?"

Your brain finally starts to catch up right then and it shows on your face as your brows furrow with confusion, "I'm not your girlfriend."

Haechan freezes, turning your body so you can meet his confused gaze. "Uhhh yes you are, that's why we just had sex in my room," Haechan points out.

"You never asked me to be your girlfriend!" You argue.

"So what happened on Halloween when we made out in my room? I told you I liked you and had a crush on you since I first saw you so what the hell was that to you then?"

"That was you telling me you liked me and me showing you I liked you too, but you have never asked me to be your girlfriend!"

"Was that not implied?! We literally make out, we have sex, we go on dates. I send you pictures of be in the shower-"

Johnny chokes on his water, "oh, gross dude."

Haechan's scream of, "why are you still here?" overlaps your voice as you explain, "he sends me selfies of his shampoo mohawk."

Johnny can only laugh to himself as he leaves the kitchen. Haechan is left to cup your cheeks with a grip that expresses his absolute desperation, "are you doing this with other people? Please say no."

"No!" you exclaim, "are you?"

"I thought you were my girlfriend, I'm not a cheater, so no. I'm not doing what we do with anyone else," Haechan tells you exasperatedly.

"So in your head, we've been dating for like two months now?" You ask, leaning into his hold to rest your head against his chest.

"Well, no, in my head we've been dating since we first met. I've been telling everyone that we've been dating for two months, yeah," you feel him nod.

"Are you going to ask me now then?" you drawl out, looking up at him to meet his eyes.

He groans playfully before leaning down so his forehead is pressed against yours, "will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes!" You exclaim excitedly.

"Even though you basically already were. Geez, woman, you're a spoiled girl."

[izzyy-stuff]

WHAT'S YOUR LOVE LANGUAGE? - TXT

TXT x gn!reader

word count 1.1k

↪ izzy speaks... in honor of love language being released and me completely failing their love language test because wtf was that :3 disclaimer that this is just my opinion and it's fine if you disagree because I like having my little headcanons <3

m.list

choi soobin — physical touch / quality time

A pair of arms wraps around your stomach from behind you, a soft hum escaping his lips. You smile, placing your hands on top of his and tilting your head slightly to look at him. “Let it be,” he mumbles, slowly making you take a step away from the kitchen counter where the dirty dishes lay, waiting to be washed. “I’ll need to leave again in less than an hour and I want to be with you,” his voice is soft, making it impossible for you to tell him no. “The dishes can wait for when I’m back.” 

You turn to face him, your arms wrapping around his neck on instinct as you pull him closer, connecting your lips with his. His hands rest on your waist, squeezing it tightly and pulling you closer to himself until your chest presses against his.

His hands never leave you, not when you pull back, and not when he walks you to the living room just to sit with you on the couch and talk about anything that comes to mind. He doesn’t care, not as long as he gets to spend his time with you, wrapped in your warmth.

choi yeonjun — act of service / words of affirmation

You groan, exhausted, drained, as you step outside, your feet hurting after all the dancing done today. Your boyfriend glances at you, his smile falling as he watches you sooth your ankle with a soft curse leaving your lips. He kneels down, not caring about how dirty the ground under him is. He helps you get out of your shoe gently, frowning when he sees the bruises on your feet. You should have told him much earlier that you were in pain. 

His hand wraps around your thigh and he looks up, eyes painful, as if you completely betrayed him by not pointing out your pain. “Better?” You nod, forming a smile on your lips. He helps you out of your other shoe as well until you’re standing barefoot on the cold ground. He turns around, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “Come on,” he encourages and you slowly close the gap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, gripping your shoes in one hand as his hands hold the bottom of your thighs, careful as he stands up with you on his back. 

“Aren’t I too heavy?” You worry but he just shakes his head. “You’re so light I could jog all the way back home with you on my back.” 

choi beomgyu quality time / gift giving

You blink, looking around as you follow your boyfriend to his room, trying to figure out what’s going on. You were in the middle of crashing out over a task from your boss when your phone lit up with his contact information, asking if you had time and wanted to come over. You didn’t need to be told twice, packing your things and rushing out to meet him. It was long after your shift ended anyway, they couldn’t hold you there. 

You sit down on his bed, your legs tucked beneath you as you watch him move around, pulling a chair opposite you. He sits down with his guitar in hands, glancing at you briefly before looking down on the guitar, checking if it’s tuned right. “I’ve made you something,” he mumbles, a bit nervous now that your eyes widen and you lean slightly forward. “I know you’ve been busy and…” he swallows as his eyes lock with yours, a warm smile spreading across his lips. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers. 

The soft sound of the guitar swallows the room and you don’t dare to speak as he starts singing, his voice soft and full of care. You watch his fingers move as he switches from one chord to another, making you forget about every one of your struggles and failures you experienced in the past week that you haven’t seen him. God, you were so in love with him.

kang taehyun — words of affirmation / gift giving

“This is the best food I’ve ever eaten,” he says, stuffing his mouth with another bite. You bite your bottom lip, watching him from across the table. You know he’s lying—he has to be. You were always nervous to cook for him, especially since he was the one cooking for you most of the time, but you liked this recipe, and you wanted to share it with him, even if it meant embarrassing yourself in front of him. 

He seems to catch your worries because he reaches for your hand on the table, giving it a tight squeeze. “It’s great. You’re doing great.” You hold his hand, still not entirely sure if you should believe him. He smiles at you, a gentle, warm smile that always calms down your overthinking. “Okay, maybe it’s not the best food I’ve ever eaten, but that doesn’t make it any less important. I’m happy with whatever you make. I’ll eat anything as long as it’s you who makes it.” 

You sigh in relief, your shoulders visibly less tense now. You stand up and make your way over to him, his hands finding yours as soon as he can and pulling you closer. “I love you,” he says, pulling you into a soft kiss. “Always will. No matter what.”

huening kai — physical touch / act of service

Kai’s hands are wrapped around you as you sit on his lap, his head resting on your shoulder, watching the show playing on the Tv. You lean into his chest, closing your eyes comfortably. “Do you need anything, love?” He asks, glancing at you briefly before placing a kiss to the nape of your neck. “No, this is perfect,” you hum happily, rubbing slow circles on top of his arm. He smiles, tightening his grip slightly and enjoying your presence. “Let me know if you do, yeah?” His lips are on your neck again, leaving kisses anywhere he can. 

You tilt your head to face him, smiling as you lean closer and press your lips on his. You turn your body to face him, his hands gently moving to rest on your waist as he kisses you, forgetting all about the show as his mind clouds with your presence. When you pull back again, you giggle softly, cupping his cheeks and pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose before laying down, resting your head on his stomach now and wrapping your arms around him. His hands rest on your back and you just stay there, wrapped in each other, with no desire to pull away anytime soon.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez @bamgeutsz @lovingbeomgyudayone @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @saejinniestar @dawngyu @xylatox @thetxtdevil @biteyoubiteme @heesmiles @t-102 ✶⋆ Want to get notified? Join taglist here !

[writtendaydreamm]

Three Nights Ago

Summary: Langdon has had enough of the silent treatment and confronts Y/n about it

Author’s Note: Based on this submission. I don’t think I’ve really written much angst, but I tried my best lol. Working on a part two, hopefully a resolution between them, but we’ll see! Let me know your thoughts!

Y/n hadn’t spoken to Langdon since that night.

At first, he thought maybe she just needed some space, some time to think. Then she came in to work this morning without so much as a glance in his direction, and he knew it was more than that.

She was purposefully avoiding him.

He could only assume it was because of what he said.

Part of him regretted saying it. After all, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it, right? And what he and Y/n had wasn’t broke at all. Quite the opposite. The no-labels, friends-with-benefits, situationship they had going on worked for them. He couldn’t complain. Things were good the way they were.

And still, the thought that things could be better than just good constantly lingered in the back of his mind. It would be a lie to say he didn’t want more. He’d wanted more for a while. Out of fear he’d fuck things up, he never voiced those thoughts out loud, keeping them strcitly to himself.

At least up until that night, that is.

Utterly content, limbs tangled with hers under the sheets, drunk off the feeling of finishing inside of her slick warmth, the thought slipped past his lips before he had a chance to stop himself.

“We should give this another shot.”

It’s not like they were far off from being a couple as it was. He still had a copy of a key to her place, she still had one to his. A half-used bottle of that expensive shampoo she used sat in his bathroom cabinet. A few bottles of his favorite beer were stocked in the back of her fridge.

They’d been doing this dance on-and-off for years now. Never able to call it quits but never able to commit to making it work either. The first time they tried, they had jumped in too passionately, too hastily, too early on in their careers. Like a meteor, they burnt out and crashed at a devastating speed. Then she had met someone else. And then so had he. Needless to say, neither of those exploits lasted very long — none of them ever did. Anyone they tried to see or sleep with was only ever a fleeting moment of sobriety from their all-consuming addiction to one another.

Things were different now though. They were older. More mature. Nearly done with residency. It could work this time. He really believed that.

Of course, she didn’t give him a clear answer that night. Not that he expected one right then. It was a loaded suggestion. He knew that.

He did expect them to talk about it at some point though. It wasn’t his intention to open that door, but it was open now and he needed to know if she was going to walk through it with him or close it in his face.

Three days have passed. Not only had they not discussed that particular topic again, but they hadn’t discussed anything at all since then.

Leaving his texts on read. Not returning his calls. She’d even gone as far as trading shifts with one of the mid-shift residents the last two days all to avoid being around him.

It was worse than outright rejection and he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. Tempted to show up to her apartment last night and confront her, he talked himself out of it. It wouldn’t have done anything more than push her further away from him. And that was the last thing he wanted.

Two hours into their shift now and she’s still somehow managed to keep her distance from him. Standing as far as possible from him during rounds. Spending more time in the waiting room doing triage with interns than she’s done in the last couple of years. The closest they’d come to an actual interaction was brushing shoulders as she zoomed past him helping push a gurney into Trauma bay 2.

He figured he’d have to wait till their shift ended to confront her, but luck was on his side today. They both stopped at the nurses station at the same time. They couldn’t have been further apart, standing at opposite ends, but it was better than nothing. He stared at her shamelessly hoping she’d look up and acknowledge him in some way, give him something other than this undeserved cold shoulder. Y/n remained unphased however, typing away on the keyboard in front of her as if he wasn't actively burning a hole through her head with the heat of his stare.

Never one to shy away from telling him like it was, this was unlike her. If she didn’t want things to change that’s all she had to say. While it was true he wanted more, he’d rather things stay as they were than lose her. As inconsistent as their relationship was, she had remained one of the only consistencies in his life. He needed her. She was his crutch. Even just a few days without seeing her, hearing her, feeling her, left him totally crippled.

Watching her walk away from the nurses station, he took his chance. It was unfair to corner her while they were both supposed to be working but he couldn't let this go on any longer.

—

Feeling someone come up behind her, Y/n didn’t have to turn around to know exactly who it was. Maybe it was his cologne, or the familiar sound of his footsteps, or just his presence that she was so attune to. Whatever it was, she knew it was Langdon.

With a heavy sigh, she allowed him to drag her by the arm into an empty examination room. She could have fought his hold if she really tried. Run off and delay the inevitable for another day. Maybe even two if Collins was willing to switch days off with her. But it wouldn’t do much. She couldn’t avoid him forever. They worked in the same hospital, in the same department, on the same shift. It was surprising to have dodged him at all these past few days.

She had every intention to have a conversation with him about that night…eventually. Once she finally knew what she was going to say to him.

However, in the three days she bought herself to think it over, the only things she had put together was the fact that the right words would never come to her, and that even if they did it wouldn’t make a difference. This conversation was going to be hard and painful no matter how she worded it.

If it were up to her alone, she wasn’t sure when she’d gather the nerve to finally speak to him. In a way, Y/n was relieved he was forcing her to rip the band aid off and tell him what’s been on her chest these last three days. This was a conversation they needed to have sooner rather than later and she had put it off for too long as it was.

With the door locked shut, and the curtain pulled close, there was no escaping for either of them now. No turning back.

Standing on either end they were only just a few feet away from each other, but it felt like they were an ocean apart. This was the first time they’d been in the same room since that night. The familiar comfort and intimacy they shared in his dimly lit apartment then was quite the contrast to the awkward tension between them now under the unsettling fluorescent lights.

Silence filled the small, sterile gray examination room, drowning them. They sized each other up, waiting to see who would break and gasp for air first.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Langdon said finally. It wasn’t clear from his tone whether he was asking or telling her this. It was clear however that this had been weighing on him heavily these past few days. She could hear the strain in his voice, see the burden behind his eyes.

It killed her to see him hurt this way and all because of her. For a second she debated sparing his feelings. She could say she traded shifts because of a last minute appointment, or a family emergency that came up. Say she was just too busy and never got to reply to his messages. But he knew her too well and would know she was lying.

Besides, she wouldn’t want him to lie to her. If she wanted his honesty, then she would need to be honest as well.

“You’re right. I have been avoiding you,” she said, owning up to her odd behavior.

He didn’t know what the right thing to say next was, but he did know he was willing to say and do whatever he needed to make things right between them again.

“I know it’s about the other night. And before you say anything, just forget I brought it up. Okay? Things between us are good the way they are, we don’t need change what we’re doing or try-”

The sound of her laugh cut him off. It was a dry, humorless laugh but a laugh nonetheless. Langdon narrowed his eyes at her in confusion and disbelief. Here she was laughing in his face while he was being vulnerable and open about his feelings.

“Glad you find this funny, Y/n.”

“It’s not funny, it’s just — I mean you really thought that’s why I haven’t been speaking to you? Because you said we should get back together? No, Frank,” she shook her head. Her expression stiffened like stone, bracing herself before she continued, “I found your pills.”

She watched his reaction carefully, checking for his ticks and tells. But his poker face was impressive. If he was feeling any sort of pressure it wasn’t showing. He feigned ignorance so well she would’ve bought it had she not seen with her own two eyes the plastic bag of pills stuffed lazily between a pile of shirts in his drawer.

“What are you talking about? What pills?” he asked, brows furrowed convincingly.

“Your bag of benzos. Or the hospital’s benzos I should say. Right? Cause that’s where you stole them from?”

That pulled the rug straight from under him. His face fell instantly and his heart followed falling what felt like a hundred feet down to the pit of his stomach. There was nowhere else to turn, no other way out of this than to deflect and deny.

“Woah — stole? Benzos? Really, Y/n. Are you actually accusing me of what I think you are?”

“Of diverting drugs? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m accusing you of.”

“Don’t be ridiculous-”

“Frank, spare me. Please. I ran an audit,” she said before he could continue to dismiss what she already knew to be true.

Langdon’s demeanor changed completely at the mention of the audit. His composure faltered, the innocent, ignorant act dropped. He stood before her now guarded and defensive.

With a heavy-heart, Y/n released the last sliver of hope she held onto that this was all just some big misunderstanding. It was obvious now, written all across his face, that this was exactly what it seemed, what she feared.

When she found those pills she wanted so badly to find a logical explanation. There had to be. She thought and thought of every possible reason he would have those pills. As hard as she thought, only one thing came to mind — drug diversion.

Walking into work the morning after, it hung over her head like a dark cloud and the pills she hid in her bag weighed like a ton of bricks. If what she suspected turned out to be true, she risked the safety of their patients and the future of her own career if she didn’t do her due diligence. The guilt of running a medication dispensing report behind Langdon’s back was severely outweighed by the need to ease her own conscience. Upon examining the report, she hoped to find her worries dispelled. But rather than the dark cloud lifting up and away, it poured down on her instead in a heavy rain that washed away any possibility of Langdon’s innocence.

The discrepancies were undeniable. He prescribed and “wasted” more painkillers than any other doctor in their department. That, paired with the pills she found all but confirmed it.

Arms crossed, Langdon doubled down, refusing to admit to it. “That audit doesn’t prove anything.”

“I think Robby would beg to differ.”

All the color drained from his face at the mention of their attending. “Please tell me you haven’t told him about this bullshit?”

“No, not yet.”

Though she should’ve. When she found that bag of pills in his drawer that night, the right thing to do would’ve been to take them straight to Robby the very next day. Instead, against the feeling of her gut turning in on itself, screaming at her that something was wrong, she gave Langdon the benefit of the doubt. The pills were yet to see the light of day again, still tucked in the bottom of her purse since that night. Rather than blindside him, she felt it was only fair she spoke with him first, to give him a chance to explain himself before taking any serious action.

Thank God, he thought. As long as this stays between them and doesn't leave the room, things will be fine. He’ll be fine.

“I’m telling you, whatever you think is going on, is not what it looks like. Okay? It’s me, you know me, you know who I am,” he pleaded, lowering himself to her eye level.

“I’m not so sure I do,” she admitted woefully, searching his eyes looking for the Langdon she knew, the Langdon she loved. But the man before her wasn’t him.

Her Langdon was not a thief and definitely not an addict. Sure, he was a bit of an adrenaline junkie always seeking a rush. Jumping out of planes, bungee jumping, hang gliding — risk taking behavior wasn’t out of character. But she could never have imagined he was capable of this level of self destruction. That he would risk throwing away everything he’s worked so hard for.

The words hit him like a slap to the face. “How can you say that?”

“Because I know, Langdon. The pills I took from your apartment? I haven’t had them traced back to who distributed them yet because I really don’t want to see your name there. But I know it will be,” she cried out.

Among all the words she said, took from your apartment, repeated in his head. It had just dawned on him now — she’s had the pills this whole time. He had been looking everywhere for them. Retracing his steps, turning his apartment inside out, searching through every nook and cranny of his car, clearing out his locker. He’d been on edge these past couple days wondering where they went. If they fell into the wrong hands he was fucked. At least now he knew where they were. The relief that brought was only momentary though as irritation quickly took its place. He ran his hands through his hair trying to keep a lid on it.

“What are you doing going through my stuff in the first place?” he practically sneered at her.

Unbelievable, she thought snorting at his audacity. The nerve he had to turn things on her and make her out to be the bad guy for finding the pills in his drawer as if him having those pills in the first place wasn’t the more pressing matter here.

“I wasn’t going through your stuff asshole,” she spat back snidely. Not like it would’ve taken much to find those stupid pills anyway. She had been looking for that worn out blue t-shirt of his she loved sleeping in and there they were, practically begging to be seen.

“Where are they?” he demanded.

“Why? Are you trying to get your fix?”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m not a drug addict, Y/n,” he snapped, her comment really hitting a nerve.

“Is that right?” she scoffed mockingly. “So then please explain to me why the fuck you have a plastic baggie of prescription pay killers hiding in your drawer?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said, voice rising in his frustration.

“You’re right, you don’t,” she agreed, much to his surprise. “But you do have to explain yourself to Robby once I bring him what I found.”

With nothing left to say, she brushed past him making her way to the door. Before she could turn the handle, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her from behind. Langdon held her tightly, dragging her back and away from the door. She used all her strength, fighting against his hold. But he was too strong for her.

“Get your hands off me. Let go,” Y/n cried out. “You’re being an asshole, Frank. Let go of me.”

Mindful that the walls weren’t soundproof, Langdon released her but ensured to block the door with his body. Hoping to reason with her, to explain himself, and talk her out of telling Robby, he approached her. It wasn’t intended to be aggressive, or intimidating, but he must’ve been too worked up to realize he was coming across that way.

After one step towards her, Y/n immediately backed away from him, eyeing him warningly like she was afraid of him or what he might do next.

It was like a dagger to the gut seeing the way she recoiled from him like he was some sort of threat when just days ago she was begging for his touch. He stepped back dejectedly, giving her the space to feel comfortable. With a deep breath to calm himself, he explained earnestly the pills were simply a means to an end.

“I’m just weaning myself off, okay?”

“And how long have you been weaning yourself off, Frank?” y/n challenged.

He was quiet. If he answered it would give away how far off the deep end he’d fallen. But she didn’t need to hear him say anything to figure that out for herself. His hesitancy and agitation, the way he averted her gaze, his shifty body language, was all the answer she needed. He hadn’t just fallen off the deep end, he was sinking to the bottom of it.

How had no one noticed? How had she not noticed? There had to have been signs. Then again maybe the signs were there and she was just blinded by her bias, by her feelings for him, by her trust in him.

She wouldn’t allow that bias to affect her now. Not that he was making it easy for her. His usually vibrant blue eyes were dulled by despair as he looked into hers begging her to believe and trust him now.

“You need help,” she urged softly, taking a tentative step closer to him.

It was Langdon who backed away from her now. He didn’t need any help. He was handling this his way. Like he said, he was just using whatever was left of his patients’ medications that would’ve been dumped anyway to tide him over as he worked through the withdrawals. He knew what he was doing. He knew these drugs and how they worked.

“I have this under control,” he maintained. “I’m not some tweaker off the street.”

“Are you really so far up your own ass you can’t see that you have a problem.”

“I don’t have a problem,” he insisted tensely, through gritted teeth.

Too stubborn for his own good, she cared about him too much to let him sink any further. She already failed him once missing the signs. There was no way she’d turn a blind eye now.

He’d probably hate her for what she was about to say next. But he left her no choice.

“If you don’t tell Robby by the end of the day, I will.”

Frozen in his spot, his mind raced with the implications of what she’d just said.

The ultimatum was the final nail on the coffin of their conversation. Whether he had more to say or not, she wasn’t sticking around for it. Brushing past him quickly, afraid he might try to stop her from leaving again, she managed to get on the other side of the door.

The sound of the door shutting pulled him out of his thoughts. Turning over his shoulder, he caught her eye through the door’s glass panel as she too spared one last glance back at him.

The last time their eyes locked so intensely had been that night. The night he suggested they give their relationship another shot. The night she found those pills. The night that would turn out to be the catalyst, setting off a series of events that would change his life as he knew it.

She turned away first having seen something in his eyes she’d never seen before, at least not directed toward her — contempt.

Standing in the room alone, the walls closing in on him, her last words ringing in his ears, he slammed his fists against the counter.

Fuck.

[red5cars]

dog days

abbot x service/therapy dog hybrid!reader

tags: discussions of death, death (other party), abbot being reluctant, panic attacks, possibly ooc.

a/n: i got my one like so. here.

he comes home earlier than expected, the door slamming open upon his entry. given the way his irritation permeates in the air, you can tell he had a bad day. sour odor making your nose scrunch.

he's just out of your eyesight, tucked away thanks to the walls of the kitchen. all you can do is listen - rubber soles squished against carpet, erratic yet precise inhales and exhales, cotton crushed under the weight of a man, and finally,

the metallic thunk! of something heavy hitting the floor.

so, he had a really bad day.

slowly, you remove yourself from whatever task occupied you in the kitchen, making your way towards the living room. scents of antiseptic, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide waft through the air, followed by the barest hint of blood. subtle, but not unnoticeable to someone like you.

the sounds from earlier match up with jack's current state; slumped over on the couch, hands covering his face yet doing nothing to muffle his breathing. the thunk! from earlier is accounted for too, prosthetic abandoned in favor of letting his right limb twitch.

side-stepping it, you sit on the couch, maintaining some distance. even though your his service hybrid, he's tentative on treating you as such. moreso, you treating him. the few times he's let you is when he's asleep, vulnerable in both mind and body. he'll never admit it, but his night terrors dissipate the moment he feels your weight on his.

(if only he vocalized it, maybe you wouldn't feel so displaced in your arrangement)

settling in your spot, you wait. wait for his breathing to slow, the twitch in his leg to settle. only then do you speak, starting off with a soft, "jack."

he doesn’t respond. never does the first time. quietly, you scoot closer, but not close enough. you try again, "jack-“

“don't,” the bite in his tone is shocking, can't help but lean back a bit. your gaze shifts, taking in all of him. sure his breathing may have settled, but the gaps between breathing in and out are uneven. his body isn't quaking but his hands have a slight tremor.

you've pushed him, a common occurrence. makes you wonder why you’re still here, not set up with a different owner, one who lets you in rather than shuts you out. it made you feel like a bad dog, and it still does but no to the degree it once did.

still, your tails shifts, slow and uncertain. you can only nod, "okay.. well, is it okay if i keep sitting here?" there's a hopeful lilt in your tone you hope he doesn't pick up on. the need to be good, to show him all the good you can do rivals with his needs. which seem to have no relation to you.

he remains quiet, readying to leave him alone but the angle of his head changes. a slight tilt down, then up.

progress.

letting the silence take over, you scoot all the way to the other side. while you need to remain focused, you doubt the last thing jack wants is your eyes on him. plus, it'd be a shame to lose a privilege you've just got, wouldn't it?

you keep your focus ahead, the tv acting as a mirror, keeping him in your eyesight without turning your head or sneaking a glance.

time passes, unsure whether it's been only minites or maybe a whole hour. the entirety of it all is spent staring at jack's reflection, listening to his breathing, making sure he doesn't have an attack (the few times he's had he left the building despite your protests, returning within an hour looking unphased).

some might get restless at this point, but you don't. can't. your committed to helping this man whether he wants it or not.

the waiting period blurs the moment he opens his mouth, head whipping to his direction as he tells you, "i lost a patient."

oh.

he's mentioned it, every now and then. death is inevitable in his field, looming over the pitt, ready to take their next victim. but he always brushed it off, discussed it with his therapist instead of a dumb dog.

it's why your stunned he brought it up, not following with some dismissive remark. it dislodges you, making you scramble to find a suitable response.

"..i'm sorry," you reply, tail curled around your legs, sympathy and regret in your tone, "that must've been rough."

another silence settles between the both of you, and your half expecting him to go, to call robby or dr.davids. but he doesn't, instead,

he keeps talking to you.

“it was," there's a pause, a shaky inhale, and then the sound of his voice, "the patient he, he was a hybrid," his voice gets heavier at that, dragging himself to explain this, "some sort of dog, i think."

it's not uncommon for hybrids to be taken to primarily human hospitals, but it isn't recommended. the difference in physiology making it harder to operate on them. must've been a dire situation.

he continues without any prompting, "there was a kid stuck on the crosswalk. the hybrid he, he managed to push them towards the sidewalk, getting a scrape at most but the dog-" he stops himself, beady brown eyes fliting to you for a quick moment. you might've thought you imagined it if you weren't already staring at him.

"he got hit," his eyes flick back to the floor, and you pick up on the barest hint of regret. "i knew it was going to be bad, but it was just visceral. like the whole world caved in on his chest. and he had this look like," he shifts, facing you but not looking at you, "like he was begging for some sort of gratification from nearly killing himself," it comes off more as a scoff, but you watch jack's hands begin to shake fully.

"no matter what we did, it wasn't working. there'd always be some sort of complication whether it was because of his ribs collapsing, the bleeding, it all- he just wouldn't get better and-" jack runs a hand down his face, frustration evident once it runs it's course, "and in the back of my mind i couldn't stop thinking about if it was you," you can feel your eyes widen, unaware that you would even cross his mind.

"that- that- what if you were there, trying to act alll heroic to save some kid," his breaths pick up, eyes unfocused, "or what if you were there in the or? and watched me let that guy just die," notes of salt appear in the air. he's swearing, tearing up, maybe even both.

"i mean, you don't even give a shit about yourself because you're too busy taking care of me! and you don't deserve that. you deserve, you deserve someone who loves you, who lets you in instead of keeping you out, who trusts you with everything, who wouldn't abandon you and let you fucking die-"

the rest is choked out, mainly because you throw yourself at him, knocking jack onto his back. crawling forward till your head lands on his chest, his heartbeat echoing in your ear. it's irregular, pattern disrupted by his own self-loathing and guilt.

and jack, being jack, squirms underneath you, attempts to push you off (albeit weakly). he grunts, commanding you to get off him but when he realizes you won't, he crumbles.

commands become cries in the span of a second, voiceless sobs only heard by his heart, felt by the way his chest contracts. you nuzzle your head closer to his sternum, putting as much of your weight on him.

he continues crying underneath you, one hand thrown over his face while the other strokes your back, petting you. it's domestic in a way.

if only it were like that all the time.

"..m sorry," he mumbles, voice still watery and cracking around those two words, "i'm sorry," there's more on his lips, more he wants to tell you, needs to, but he's unable to sound like anything besides a broken record.

you don't say a thing, only turning your head to stare at him. his eyes are stuck to the ceiling, lips pursed as he chokes back down another sob.

the only times you've seen him this vulnerable was when he's asleep, unable to control what haunts him. the sound of his heart under your ear isnt unfamiliar but it's different when he's awake, unable to ignore the fact that he needs you.

desperately.

a few more minutes pass before his cries subside, other hand falling from his face to your back. for the first time since coming back home, his breathing is even, chest rising and falling at a normal rate, "think i feel better."

you don't reply, but a warm feeling spreads through you, something akin to happiness. slowly, you begin to push off but his hands plant themselves on your back, pushing you back down. confused, you lift your head, "what're you doing?"

he looks just as perplexed, his hands relaxing a bit, before fisting your shirt, "stay."

it's simple, but heavy. without another word, you lower yourself back on top of him, letting him know your present. jack's hands relax, beginning to rub your back.

it's soothing makes you drift, eyes fluttering shut after a good minute. in the midst of falling asleep, you feel his chest rumble, the words carried to you soon after.

"thank you."

your tail wags as you fall asleep in his arms.

[actuallysaiyan]

Fan Service(Jiraiya x Fan!Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, lewd themes, alcohol, praise kink, oral sex(fem receiving), penetrative sex, age gap, creampie finish word count 2k pairings: Jiraiya x Fan!Fem!Reader summary: during a book signing event, Jiraiya meets you. a breath of fresh air. and an aspiring smut author yourself...what happens when you two meet up to discuss positions?

Usually he wasn’t even really that excited for these types of events, but he can’t let his dear fans down. When he was just an up and coming writer, these types of events would be the highlight of his week. But right now, he was sort of wishing something else would happen. Something more fun and something more exciting than signing autographs for people who seemed disinterested or answering Kakashi’s questions about what’s going to happen in the next volume. Jiraiya was growing very bored.

That is…until you showed up.

Your beautiful eyes were alight as you approached the desk he was sitting at. A stack of books were piled up against his left arm, and Jiraiya nearly topples them over when you come over. You’re nearly bouncing in your steps as you finally get to him.

“Jiraiya-sama!” You squeal as you place a well-loved copy of Icha Icha on the desk. “I am so honored to meet you.”

His heart skips a beat. Your voice is so sweet and it’s so bubbly. He looks up at you and his cheeks redden just a bit. But he’s nothing if not suave. He looks at the copy of Icha Icha you’ve placed on the desk and opens it up.

“Well,” he says softly. “That’s a sweet thing to say to an old, washed up writer. Who should I make this out to?”

You say your name with a smile. “That’s a first edition copy.”

Now Jiraiya was impressed. “Is it? You’ve certainly enjoyed it. You know, I don’t have too many female fans, but this makes me happy.”

He signs his name after leaving a sweet little message. You seemed like a very nice girl. You look at him with stars in your eyes, almost like he’s your raison d’être. There’s something very sincere with the way you talk to him too.

“I…I had something to ask.” You say in a shy voice.

“Hmm? What is it, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks redden at this. “I’ve been writing as well. And I was wondering if maybe you could coach me.”

He laughs. “Nah come on, kiddo. You don’t want that. I’m washed up.”

You shake your head. “No! You’re truly inspiring.”

You place another book on the desk. It’s a notebook that looks like Icha Icha. He opens it up and reads a few passages. His eyes widen in shock. You were pretty good at this. He’s more than impressed.

“You don’t need my help, kiddo. You’re good! Heck, I’d say you’re great!”

You blush even more. “You really think so? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d love to learn from you.”

He scratches his head. “Okay okay…how about we meet for drinks at some point this week? I can give you a few pointers.”

It’s on a Friday night that you meet up with him in the bar. He looks so confident as he sits in the booth with his drink. He waves at you, a cool smirk spread on his face as you approach him with that bubbly gait. You sit across from him, placing your bag on the table.

“I bought you a drink,” he says, placing a bottle of beer in front of you. “I didn’t know what you liked, but the bartender says this beer is popular.”

“Thank you! You really didn’t need to do that at all.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

You pull out your notebook and take a sip of the beer. It’s a very smooth beer, and you know you would have probably ordered something nice like this for yourself. And then you and Jiraiya begin to talk about literature.

He’s got notes himself, showing you some of the rare things he wrote a long time ago. You feel so honored to get to read them. He talks to you about the editing process and how to make time for writing. He reiterates the importance of reading as well to keep your vocabulary up to date.

“I know you can do well,” he whispers softly after he’s had a few drinks. “You’re already wonderful.”

You’re blushing more now since you’ve also had a few drinks. “Thank you so much.”

He loves the way you keep leaning against him since you switched over to sitting next to him. Your perfume smells so good. You’re really cute too with the way you basically melt under his praise.

“I mean it! You could even give me some pointers now.”

You swallow hard. “Well,” you try to get the words out right. “There’s a position that I read in one of your books that I was wondering how good it would be.”

You open up the book in front of him and you read the passage. Then your eyes lock with his and it’s hard to look away. The sexual tension just keeps building and building before he leans in close.

“I’m just going to let you know now,” he whispers. “If we go any further, I don’t know if I could bring myself to stay away.”

You smirk. “Good, I don’t want you to.”

And with this, you seal it with a kiss. It’s slow and tentative at first, but then it turns into something a little messier and hotter. Jiraiya wraps his arm around you, pulling you impossibly close to him. Your breasts press up against his rock hard abs, making him grunt with pleasure. This was becoming the best fan meet-up in the history of his career and you weren’t even the first fan he hooked up with.

“We should probably take this elsewhere,” Jiraiya says as he nips at your bottom lip.

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Despite not wanting to pull away from you, Jiraiya gets up and helps you pack up your stuff. He’s quick to pay off his tab and with that, he brings you outside. The walk to his place is slow and sweet. The two of you discuss all kinds of things while the sexual tension builds inside of you.

Inside his apartment, he tells you to make yourself at home. You feel like this is just the start of one of his books. You grin at him, making him blush just a little bit. In the low lighting of his place, you look like a dream. A sexy, wet and palpitating dream. He approaches you with quick strides, and then he’s pinning you to the wall.

“Look at you,” his fingers brush back some hairs from your face. “You’re giving me those fuck me eyes. You’re making such an old man feel good, darling.”

You giggle. “Jiraiya, I want you to fuck me.”

His cock throbs at the words that come from your lips. He looks into your eyes, searching for maybe something that says not to do this. When he finds nothing but lust, admiration and even something close to love, he captures your lips with his own.

Languidly, his tongue rolls and rubs against yours. It’s a wet kiss that leaves your panties very sticky with arousal. Your heart is pounding in your chest as he moves with a certain suggestiveness that you’ve never seen anyone else have. When he pulls away, he’s smirking at you.

“Want to take this into the bedroom or do you want me to fuck you right up against the wall here?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Jiraiya. I—”

He laughs. “Up against the wall it is!”

He pushes you further up against the wall before getting on his knees. Seeing such a big man kneeling before you like this has your stomach in knots. How could he be this sexy? It was no surprise to you that someone like him was just dripping with pure sexuality but this was better than you could ever imagine.

His fingers are quick but soft as he undresses you. His teeth bite and nip your skin, leaving little marks to remind you that this did in fact happen. This was real and it was happening to you. You moan when he swivels his tongue on your lower tummy, his tongue swiping down under your underwear before he looks up at you.

“You smell good,” His face is pressed between your thighs. “So fucking good.”

He wastes no more time. Your panties are pushed down and he leans in to lap at you like a man starved. Your knees are already buckling and you don’t trust yourself to hold yourself up anymore. Thankfully, Jiraiya is quite strong and he’s good to keep you up while he sucks on your clit. Waves of pleasure ripple through you before you fall off the edge with a loud cry of his name.

“Already?” He asks, his lips still somewhat wrapped around the throbbing nub. “Wow, I didn’t think I was that good.”

You huff and blush, looking away from the very sexual man that sits on his knees for you. He’s toying with your folds, licking them and sucking on them before his tongue dips down to your entrance to get a full taste of you. His eyes roll back as he gets the full flavor of your essence.

“You’re gonna make me addicted,” He growls before he gets up on his feet. 

Jiraiya pulls down his pants, kicking them to the side. He grinds his hips against yours, allowing you to feel his erection that’s now straining against his underwear. Your hand shakes as you reach down to palm him. He’s fucking huge, but you’re not one to shy away from this challenge.

He bucks up into your hand. “Think you can handle it?”

“Of course I can.”

He loves how confident you are. He helps spread your legs before he pushes his underwear down. The look on your face when you finally see his dick says it all. Jiraiya knows he’s been blessed with a big member, but he always loves the way women react to it for the first time.

“Brace yourself, honey. I’m gonna rock your world.”

He uses the tip to smear your arousal all over before prodding your little hole. You were going to be tight, he knows this. But as he pushes into you, he finds it’s the warmth that’s drawing him in more than anything. His eyes close and he grunts.

“Taking me so well,” he praises you before kissing you.

Slowly, he starts up at a pace that’s comfortable for the two of you. He’s surprisingly gentle for someone who seemed like he’d be wild with you, and yet you can’t complain. It feels so good to go slow like this, building a bond without truly realizing it. Your bodies move together in tandem before he picks up the pace and begins slamming into you.

“I knew you were such a naughty thing when I first laid eyes on you,” He lifts your leg and places you in the position you were talking about earlier. “How’s this for the position, hm? Is it as good as you imagined?”

In this position, he reaches even deeper into you. Your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin and he pushes you right over the edge. His gruff voice is coaxing you to cum, cum all over his cock. With your tight walls spasming around him, Jiraiya is finding it so hard to hold on.

“Fuck,” he pants. “Gonna cum. Where should I—”

“Inside, please!”

Your words alone are what send him over the edge. He grunts as his balls tighten, making his cock throb with each shot of hot cum that paints your insides. It’s sticky and messy, but he continues to thrust into you. Jiraiya kisses you, making his whole body shudder from the deep affection he feels for you in this moment.

As things begin to subside, he pulls away and looks at you. You look very satisfied and it warms his heart. He knows he’s a good lover, but sometimes he does worry that his age has finally caught up to him. Another kiss and he slowly pulls out of you. His seed drips down your thighs.

“Maybe…” you pant. “Maybe we can try a few other positions?”

He grins. “I love the way you think.”

With that, he takes you by the hand and leads you into the bedroom…

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2025– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

dividers: @/adornedwithlight taglist: @cherryblossombankai @misty-angerose @adharadotcom,

@isabelzoldyck, @felixmr @animediplomat,

@shycoconutt,  @kiiwiipie, @aervera,

@erebus-et-eigengrau @hornyslasher @dreadsuitsamus

@yeowangies @vividly-vermillion @pixelcafe-network

[coniferouspines]

Another snippet inspired by @babyblankyerror ’s Dr. Pinington AU.

“Stanley, are you—?” Stanford stopped dead upon entering his brother’s office, standing in the doorway dumbstruck as he took in the sight before him.

Stanley was sitting on the floor, leaning over one of those life-sized anatomy models one would normally find in a university biology classroom. He was dressed in his favourite lab coat, the one that was too big for him with the sleeves that would slip down past his hands. Surrounding both him and the anatomy model was a large array of stuffed animals, all posed in different positions. Some were set up to hold various medical instruments, while others were holding fake plastic organs. A few more seemed to simply be observers.

Mr. Rabid was right on top of the model’s open chest cavity, sitting on the fake lungs. It wore a little nurses’ cap on its head and a mini lab coat that Stanley had clearly sewn together himself. It looked to be watching Stanley as he rooted about in the model’s body, seeming very intent with… whatever his task was.

“What are you doing?” Stanford asked, thoroughly dumbfounded.

He’d watched Stanley poke around in actual dead bodies before and remove their organs, and that had been less confusing than this. At least those bodies had been real and something could be done with their parts. This was a plastic model.

Stanley turned at the sound of his voice and cracked one of those eerie smiles (Stanford refused to think about how they were starting to become more endearing than creepy at this point). “Hey, Sixer!” Stanley said cheerfully. He waved a hand in greeting, the long sleeve of his lab coat flapping about.

“Hi, Stanley,” Stanford said patiently. “Again, what are you doing? What’s with all the—” He gestured wordlessly to all the plushies.

“Well, we haven’t had a patient or even a body to… have fun with… for a while and I’m bored. And if I’m bored… then my friends are probably bored too! So I figured I should include them… because no one likes feeling left out.” Stan beamed like he was proud of himself, looking at Stanford with those big, mismatched eyes.

Stanford blinked as the puzzle pieces clicked together in his brain. “Wait, Stanley, are you—You’re playing?”

“Uh-huh!” Stanley tapped his misspelt name badge. “The doctor is… in session! Or something. Whatever they say.”

He stuck his tongue out at Stanford in a goofy manner, and for a brief moment, Stanford’s mind overlaid the image of the man before him with a much younger version, with a boy in a white and red striped shirt. He had the same look on his face: giddy, innocent in the way only a child could be, yet mischievous and bold.

Stanford didn’t know what to say. His brother was playing make-believe surgery with his stuffed animals and a plastic anatomy model. There was something almost sweet about it, if one ignored how odd it was for a grown man to be doing so. Then again, Stanley had gained a lot of new…oddities…since his incident. Most of them Stanford wrote off as being from brain damage that the botched lobotomy had done to him.

So this was fine. Stanford could accept this. Even if it was a little unsettling, Stanley wasn’t hurting anyone by doing this. There were worse things he could do than play pretend in his free time.

“Did you… want to join me?” Stanley had cocked his head to the side, staring at Stanford with hopeful eyes.

“Actually, I was coming to ask if you wanted to join me,” Stanford said. “I was going to go get lunch. Did you want to come?”

Stanley jumped to his feet, nearly tripped over the hem of his too-large lab coat, pin wheeled his arms wildly to keep his balance, then bounced over to Stanford excitedly. “Yes!”

“Calm down,” Stanford chided, though a smile tugged at his lips at the overeager display. “It’s just lunch.”

He led the way down the hall, Stanley practically skipping behind him.

[johamfated]

Harry considered the man before him, the way he had just left himself an open book. Would he really answer anything he asked? Harry wasn't sure why he was surprised. If one thing could be said for Albus Dumbledore, it's that he had always answered Harry's questions. Well, more or less.

Harry recalled the moment at the end of his first year, where he'd asked Dumbledore about why Voldemort had wanted to kill him.

"Sir, there are some other things I’d like to know, if you can tell me…things I want to know the truth about.…”

“The truth.” Dumbledore sighed. “It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you’ll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie.”

“Well…Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?”

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.

“Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day…put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older…I know you hate to hear this…when you are ready, you will know.”

And all throughout their relationship, Dumbledore had continued down this pattern. And Dumbledore had indeed kept his promise and told him why Voldemort had tried to kill him, though it had taken him another four years to do so.

"It's funny because, the moment you told me I can speak to you about it, all the damn questions just left my head." Harry finally says to the younger Dumbledore in front of him. He stays silent for a few moments, trying to work out what it is he really wants to know and if the answer would be good for him.

"I suppose the one thing that has been poking at me all these since is, why him? And please, don't use his name. I don't want to hear it. For two reasons, actually. Where I come from, Tom Riddle had a habit of putting a charm on his chosen name. He knew and could track down whoever used it. People became so terrified of using his name, that that never did. They called him You Know Who, and He Who Must Not Be Named. It's funny though, because one of the first things you ever taught me, is that I should use his name. That not doing so would only create a more intense fear for the man. But that doesn't take away from the fact, that while a monster is still at large, we should be careful. So please, don't call him by name. And tell me, why him? Because I know you. I know you don't believe in what he is doing. So, why didn't you see what was happening from the start? Was he seriously just that good looking? Because, you're quite handsome yourself, sir, but it certainly doesn't blind me to your faults."

Harry stopped, wishing he hadn't said that last part. But now it was out there, there wasn't much he could do about it. Not that it really mattered though, he was only pointing out a fact. Albus Dumbledore was a good looking man in his youth. It didn't mean anything. Harry shook his head, trying to dispel his thoughts. This wasn't the time.

@regretismyconstantcompanion

Albus Dumbledore was sitting on the couch, staring into the fireplace that was across from him. The crackling of the flames was the only sound breaking the silence in the cottage that was nestled in the Scottish Highlands. It was isolated, miles away from even the nearest village. He had chosen it for that very reason, desperate for solitude even if it wasn't something that had been forced upon him. He had lost the duel against Grindelwald. He had known that had always been a possibility. There were equals after all and had known each other painfully well. They had spent that summer duelling, friendly but pushing each others boundaries. They had grown and changed and become more powerful but their tendencies had lingered. The fight had lasted well over an hour but in the end, Gellert had just gotten the better of him and managed to disarm him and send him flying backwards. His only minor consolation was the fight had left them both panting and injured. But it had been clear who the winner was. There was no backing out of the agreement they had made. His time in Nurmengard had been brief. A chance to recover from the duel before Gellert gave him an ultimatum. He could remain free if he agreed to leave Hogwarts and retreat from the Wizarding World. Albus had already known he would leave the school, for certainly he had lost that right when he had failed his students and the Wizarding World as a whole. He had agreed, knowing Gellert wasn't giving him a choice and not agreeing would result in either his death or being imprisoned in Nurmengard forever or the deaths of those he cared about. And so here he was, over a year after the duel. Staring into the fire, sitting beside a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Books had been removed from the overflowing bookshelves, scattered around the room. Some had been read, some he hadn't even yet opened. Plain parchment piled up on the desk. Few knew where he was and so letters came rarely. He had picked some of the fruit and vegetables he grew in a small garden he tended to. Perhaps he would make some jams and chutneys if he could find the strength and motivation. It came sometimes, mixed in with the heavy weight of despair that seemed to fill his waking hours. He had failed. He had let down the wizarding world and now he banished just beyond the world he loved so much. He knew what was happening there, of course. He did his best to learn of Gellerts ongoing plans and rise to power. Without him there, there was nothing to stop him. He knew the few Ministries that still existed moved against him but it wouldn't take much for them to fall. Everything would be lost then and Albus knew he was powerless to stop it. @johamfated

[croquettish]

The Missing Engagement Conversation

I saw a post recently that remarked that we should have gotten to see the conversations in which a) Henry tells Hans that Radzig is his father and b) Hans tells Henry that he's engaged. And while I wholeheartedly agree with a) and was waiting with baited breath for b) for much of KCD2, I think that this particular missing conversation was entirely deliberate.

I don't think Hans tells Henry that he's engaged. At all.

And I think that omission is 100% intentional.

The most logical time for Hans to tell him would have been after Henry arrived at Raborsch, shortly after it happened. But that found them all embroiled in a part-slaughter, part-kidnapping disaster. The matter of the engagement was pushed to the side in favor of more pressing matters, including the fact that Henry had to leave again immediately to deal with the pogrom in Kuttenberg.

And while Henry is gone and Hans is waiting and praying for his return, he has plenty of time to convince himself of why he shouldn't tell Henry. Why Henry doesn't need to know about this. Why it would be better, in fact, if he doesn't tell Henry!

For one thing, he's in denial. Maybe it won't have to happen! Maybe they'll have killed Botschek of Kunstadt in his abduction. Maybe he can put it off eternally or change his uncle's mind. Really, if he brought it up now, it would just be awkward! So much time has passed, after all! But also, if Henry finds out he's engaged, any romantic and/or sexual tension might just evaporate in Henry's eyes. And even if Hans is personally unaware of the fact that that's why he's keeping that information from him, I am so fucking certain that it factors in.

In theory, this is the soonest that Henry can find out about the wedding, namely when Rosa tells him:

Can you even imagine how earth-shattering this moment must have felt for Henry?

Why didn't Hans tell him? Why would he keep this sort of thing from him to begin with? Does he know he's getting married? Did he think that Henry would be told by someone else? Was he hoping for Henry not to learn about it at all? If so, why? Does he not want Henry there? Does he know about Henry's feelings for him, and that's why he's trying to keep him away? Or is he maybe doing this out of pity because he thinks Henry would be disappointed? Surely he'd know that Henry would be more disappointed to find out that his best friend didn't trust him with this information.

It's what gets us treated to some incredibly... quite frankly, passive-aggressive behavior on Henry's part later. As far as Hans knows, Henry only finds out about the wedding when he overhears Hans and Botschek of Kunstadt talking after the Italian Job:

What must Hans have thought in that moment? Oh dear god, he overheard. He knows. How is he going to react? Is he going to be on my ass about not telling him?

Meanwhile, Henry immediately steps in and sends a very subtle hint at Hans. He's more or less saying that yes, he knows and this isn't a surprise to him (which would no doubt have Hans internally screaming even more) and he's here to get Hans out of it as best as he can. The wording here is also incredibly interesting, because it can be taken so many ways. He'll have to excuse Hans from the wedding? For how long, exactly? Indefinitely? Hell, this makes it sound like the wedding can go on without him for all Henry cares!

Go ahead and have the wedding, Botschek! Hans definitely doesn't need to be there!!!!

Of course, Botschek is worried about Hans' well-being, at which point Henry again comes in with the most incredible hints to signal to Hans that he has feelings for him:

:)!

That look at the end especially feels SO POINTED in that moment.

The most important moment in this conversation, however, is this one:

Hans with is nervous little chuckle there at the end and Henry's constant :) is so so so incredibly suggestive of the fact that Hans 100% did not tell him.

And while I also wish that we could have confronted Hans about this afterward, I think Henry's decision not to do so was also deliberate on his part.

Hans didn't tell him. Henry said what needed to be said (that he'll keep him away from the wedding as long as possible, more or less), but also that yes, Hans, he knows!

It's not very surprising to me that they don't talk about it after that. Hans clearly doesn't want to and Henry isn't about to force the topic on him. Especially when I think it's also not lost on him that Hans follows up this conversation with Botschek by getting absolutely trashed again, much like he did after the initial announcement of the engagement:

Learning that Henry knows and hasn't decided to crucify him for not telling him (really, if anything, Henry is clearly on his side here) clearly took a weight off his shoulders, especially after the unfortunate reminder that yes, the wedding is evidently still on. In this moment, he wants Henry closer and to not rush out to battle Erik.

I won't argue that this is a masterclass in writing or say that this isn't... subtle storytelling. It is. I could quite possibly be reading too much into it. Lord knows I'm very good at that. But I think that this was very much a deliberate choice, and the writers, animators, and both Tom and Luke all did a very good job to communicate as much to us here.