#it's a nice day and things could be worse

[zepskies]

I feel like we have no choice but to write angst with this character! loll (God how I love that Amber x Mark gif 🤣)

Ahhh thanks, Wayne!! 🥹 I told you, the first thing I saw when Michelle gave me that color palette prompt was "seasons." The colors were just perfect for it, so I thought the dividers were a simple way to capture that 💗

Her answer took me tf out! Loved her bold sass 😏🔥

Ehehe that's the line where I found the character tbh. 😂 Mark needs to be with someone who can keep even him on his toes!

Oh, interesting! Also ballsy of Mark to date his boss’ daughter. Let’s hope he doesn’t screw it up 🤞🙈

Right?! lmfao I figured if anyone was gonna, it'd be Mark 😂😂

I’m getting a queasy feeling in my stomach… I genuinely already love them! Their little beach day in Santa Cruz was so cute 🥹 (and my love for Cali is never ending, too) But my heart hurts so much because I think I can guess where this is going. WHY ALEX 😫

Aww yay!! 🥹 This is why I also loved getting your request and Michelle's at the same time, because I saw how this one could later connect to "Hits Different" when I looked up the lyrics 🥲☀️

Poor reader! Hard enough when a parent is dying, but even worse when you have to watch them go 🥺 (And so close to the wedding as well! Truly can understand her pain that her father didn’t get to walk her down the aisle anymore 😭)

Ugh, exactly, on both counts! 😓 And of course it's just fuel on the fire for Mark's later reluctance to tell her about his diagnosis.

(Her father's death is actually based on how my grandfather passed away in December. 💙 He was a smoker for 30 years, quit for 40, but it still unfortunately caught up to him in his 80s.)

(I had to lmao)

Bahaha winter is definitely coming! 🤣 Jon Snow = perfection

Men… lol We’ve had this discussion before with your headcanons about men and doctors/being sick. I think we can add Mark to that list 😂

omfg yeah!! 🤣🤣 Mark would literally be the reigning king of medical man denial. And that reminds me, I'm gonna have to add Mark to the HC lineup soon! 🤭

Dear God, the sister’s already a lot 🙈 You better ain’t trying to impress your sister’s fiancé, girl…

Ahaha thank you for catching that hint! She's trying to impress somebody all right 😅

The fact her father died just months before from cancer just adds such a nice and angsty layer to this whole story. Of course Mark wouldn’t want her to go through that again after he’d witnessed how the sickness and death of her father affected her. And I do understand where he’s coming from when he essentially doesn’t want to tie her to a “dead man walking,” but man, does it break my heart. It’s such a hard situation for both. Ultimately, he should’ve involved her in the decision, though. The choice should be hers if she can handle it or not, if she wants out etc.

Aw thank you! 🥲 I was trying to think of added reasons why Mark wouldn't want to tell her, and this to me felt the most impactful, especially because her dad was Mark's boss, and in my head, his mentor too. 💔

And so agree -- he should've just talked to her, even if it was probably going to be one of the most difficult conversations of their entire relationship.

Jesus fucking Christ, that makes it even sadder and more messed up 😭 (I do love your brain for this masterpiece of cruelty)

Ehehe sorryyyyyyy. 🤭 But see? He wanted to have The Talk with her, he just never got there 🥲

But man, the fact he legit was so drunk that he stumbled into the wrong room and was basically taken advantage of in this state by her sister?! I hope the bitch burns in hell, seriously 😅

Ughhhh you and me both. As you saw in Part 2, Rachel deserves every bit of the hellfire lmao

It’s been my headcanon as well that he probably cheated on Melinda with Rachel to give her an “easy out” after finding out his diagnosis, but in my opinion, it’s even worse than actually cheating on her because he’s a stupid, selfish ass because it would’ve meant he never really love her to begin with. But doing that shit to someone you genuinely love is messed up 🙈

This was my initial instinct too for Melinda and Rachel, and while it's very plausible, it doesn't make Mark sympathetic for that exact reason. If he was going to marry a girl he didn't love enough to simply tell the truth and not cheat on her right before the effing wedding, then he's a POS for that. I really hope it comes out that he fibbed to Amber about that.

And since you've already read Catastrophic Blues (tysm 🥹 - can't wait to get into your lovely amazing feedback) I'll tell you this part:

Even in this story I debated going that exact route, having Rachel and Mark actually sleep together to create that "out" (or he just lets her do "something" sexual to him lol). But in the end I felt that no, if he truly loved the reader he would've put a stop to Rachel's advances the best he could, even while drunk. 💔

But I love how you took that mini plot line and put your own spin on it. Especially for this story, I prefer Mark accidentally stumbling into Rachel’s room, and Rachel taking advantage of him. If he’d done it on purpose to “free” reader, I would’ve murdered him. After losing their father, it would’ve been so cruel of him to tear their family apart in the wake of it, so I’m glad you went a different way here. Not sure I could’ve forgiven the other thing 🫣

Exactly, I wouldn't have forgiven him either if it was intentional 😭😭

And it's an unfortunate truth that there are girls like Rachel out there: immature, selfish, jealous, entitled, even downright hateful. So I wanted to explore the thing of, there are of course predatory men out there, but there are also predatory women. Sometimes the ones that should love you the most are the ones who hurt you the most 😭

Can’t wait to jump straight into Part 2! I can totally see the song fitting for the aftermath of this 😎💜💜💜

🥹🙏🏽💗 When I tell you I got SO much inspo from "Hits Different," like immediately lol. And *gasp* I also ended up liking "Snow on the Beach" from the same album! 🤭 I also liked "Lavender Haze."

Count me as Swiftie Curious, I guess?

DOWNGRADE

Pairing: Mark Meachum x F. Reader

Summary: There it was. The beginning of the end, and neither of you saw it coming.

AN: Ahhh here we go! For the first time ever, Mark Meachum! Obviously I’m still learning this guy as a character, but this idea grabbed me and wouldn’t let me go. Thanks so much, @luci-in-trenchcoats for choosing this color prompt for the 5K Follower Celebration!

Word Count: 1.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff, implied smut, and rom-com vibes, until the angst sets in (lol). Medical diagnoses, implied cheating

Spring

Mark set two mugs of coffee on his nightstand to free up his hands. He had to cut wide swaths through the bedsheets to reach you. As usual, you were a tangle of limbs and frizzy hair.

“Jesus, what’d you do here, woman?” he said, lips tugging at a smile when he heard your muffled giggle.

Eventually he unearthed your head and found your sleepy smile. You squinted at the sun glaring through the window behind him. It backlit that look of fond amusement on his face.

You clawed half-blind at the front of his shirt and pulled him down to you. He lost his footing and grunted as he fell, just barely catching himself from crushing you. Your laugh rang in his ear and forced a chest-shaking rumble out of him too.

You freed your own arms from the warm nest you created, just to take his face in your hands. Your thumbs caressed along the coarse edges of his beard.

“Getting scraggly, baby,” you remarked.

“Yeah, but you like your man all wild and caveman-like,” he said mischievously.

You shook your head, but you still couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

“Only when he fucks me,” you said. A cheeky challenge in your eyes.

Mark’s brows popped high, his devilish grin showing teeth. It didn’t matter how long you’d been his, you still managed to keep him on the ropes.

“Well, he does aim to please.”

Summer

The sound of your laugh was like sweltering sunshine in his chest. After the wave finished dunking you both, you swept the salty sting of the ocean out of your eyes and clung to his shoulders in the water.

Santa Cruz agreed with you. It shone down on your glistening skin and caught in your eyes. You both needed this—taking a beat, just the two of you.

Finally, Mark had allowed himself to take some time off. He was reluctant at first, workhorse that he was. But the Captain—your father—insisted that Mark take a break. Wrapping up a triple homicide after four months of legwork, getting to see that motherfucker be denied bail until trial, and giving the victims’ families a sense of relief that the killer was off the streets was a decided win.

“You’ve got someone waiting for you,” the Captain reminded him. “Don’t take that for granted.”

Mark grabbed your left hand and pressed a kiss into your palm. He felt the coolness of metal against his lips. It reminded him to turn your hand over.

“Whoa!” He closed his eyes and playfully looked away as if he was being blinded. “Who gave you that fucking rock?”

The summer sun glinted off a modest stone. Your sister told him not to overthink it. Just get the classic square cut. But his instincts told him to go with something called a “cushion,” like the sales lady said at Jared’s.

Mark knew he made the right choice when you gasped, covering your mouth with shaky hands, your eyes filling with tears when you met his slightly nervous ones.

Now, you just laughed in his face. “Oh, nobody really. Just the love of my life.”

His smile quirked, even though his heart was double-timing.

“You’re so fuckin’ cheesy.”

“But you love it, though.”

(That day, you both spent an extra hour looking for the ring when it somehow slipped off your finger and fell into the sand.)

Fall

“I’m just saying, sweetheart,” Mark said, his tone deep and gentle while he steadied you in his arms. “Maybe it’s best we put off the wedding, just a few months. It’s a lot coming at you right now.”

You shook your head, covering your mouth with trembling fingers.

“No,” you said eventually, but your words faltered along with your unsteady breaths in between. “No, he wouldn’t have wanted that. I just wish he, uh…could be there.”

You were a pillar of a woman, but no one could fault you for falling apart. Your father had been a lifelong smoker. He quit ten years ago, but it still caught up to him in his sixties, a severe case of COPD that he’d been trying to hide for months. It eventually withered him down to weeks of degeneration in a hospital bed, relying on oxygen masks that could no longer sustain him.

Your mother and sister had left the room for just half an hour to grab some coffee. You stayed behind.

You were alone with your father when he died. All you could do was hold his hand.

Now, all Mark could do was hold you. But he had to blink past a sharp pain, almost like a sudden migraine. Aftershocks reverberated through his skull, radiating from the right to the left.

He’d been dealing with less intense versions of the feeling for a month, but this time, it was like a small shiv between the eyes. It took him enough by surprise that it forced a grunt out of him, making him grimace and blink hard.

You picked your head up from his chest and met him with tearful eyes, frowning in concern.

“You okay?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Mark said. “Just a little headache.”

Winter

“Mark, you need to go to the doctor. You’ve gone through three bottles of Advil. That’s not normal.”

“Look, I told you already. I’m fine.”

“Yeah. That’s really convincing.”

“…Look, that’s Rachel pulling up. You ready to go?”

 You looked out the windows near the front door and saw your sister walking up the driveway. You blinked, like you both could and couldn't believe what you were seeing.

“Wow," you said. "She couldn’t have found a skimpier dress to check out the church. Who’s she trying to impress? The pastor’s already married.”

Mark snorted in amusement, but something soon occurred to him.

“Didn’t you tell me she and her boyfriend just broke up or something?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with it?”

He shrugged. “Eh, I don’t know. She’s probably just looking for attention.”

You sighed. You loved your younger sister, but there were times when you wished she’d just grow up a little.

One appointment with Mark’s primary doctor led him to the oncologist. His entire inner world was leveled with just two words:

Glioblastoma Multiforme.

Two words he couldn’t say to you.

It all rang between his ears…

The excitement in your voice when you told him how your last fitting went for the dress.

Faces he’d put behind bars. Years he’d scraped and clawed his way through bureaucratic bullshit, standing his ground against officers with more power than him, but never as much heart.

Your raw, broken grief when you watched your father waste away from the absolute monument of a man he’d been.

How was Mark supposed to level your world too?

He kept it all inside. And like the master of improv he was, he faked enthusiasm for a joint bachelor-bachelorette weekend.

One late night. One fifth of whiskey at the hotel bar turned into numbers he stopped counting—until the Captain reminded him.

You’ve got someone waiting for you. Don’t take that for granted.

He needed to find you.

Somehow, he made it to the elevator by himself. Third floor. Room 304, 305, 306. Fuck. Was it 309?

The door opened, and his addled fucking brain thought it was you at first. She almost had your eyes, if just half the sincerity of your smile.

Rachel welcomed him in and shut the door. He stumbled at the threshold, and she stopped him from falling completely onto the floral-patterned carpet.

“Oh my God, Mark. You okay?”

No. And he knew he wasn’t ever gonna be okay.

But her hands were warm, carving sensuous paths under his leather jacket without him realizing.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

AN: 🫣 I know, I know - I'm sorry it's not my usual happy ending. 💔 But! I am working on a second part to this for @waynes-multiverse, who also requested Mark Meachum for the 5K Celebration...though that one's gonna be even angstier than this one loll 😅 (but maaaybe with a kind of happy ending?)

In the meantime, what did you think of this drabble? Don't you wish we could've stayed in Summer? ❤️‍🩹

Read Part 2: Catastrophic Blues

Summary: Nine months isn’t as long as it sounds. When you run into your ex-fiancé at a bar, he finds out what you've become. You find out the truth.

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Mark Meachum Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

I haven't built out the Mark Meachum tag list just yet, but he's now available on my Tag List form, for anyone who wants to add themselves.

For this post, I'll just include the Dean Winchester tag list and some others who I think are interested in Mark Meachum. Next round, I'll only tag people who want in on the tag list.

@lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28

@midnightmadwoman @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@stoneyggirl2 @cheynovak @jollyhunter @deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog

@leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad @kmc1989 @siampie

@masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005

@impala-dreamer @spnaquakindgdom @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @bettystonewell

@bleuatlas @podiumackles @samslvrgirl

[smallfisheyes]

nanami finds you in the kitchen

Most days, Nanami forgets he has a roommate.

Kento knows you. You're the one who paces down the hall, creaking the floorboards of this old home. There are traces of you in the kitchen, the scent of brown sugar and cinnamon, a waft of a hearty meal with the tang of tomato, a trail of charcoal for failed dishes. Thank goodness, Kento would think. You’re human, at least. 

He knows you’re down the hall. There’s a bathroom between your rooms. He hears you pace, the creaking of old floorboards under your weight. Kento hears how you rummage and how often you drop things (often). He knows what brand of toothpaste you use, how you use an electric toothbrush, the colour of your loofah, and how you try to keep your shared spaces tidy (thank you). He has certainly heard your voice when you call a loved one or friend. Kento detects your presence with four out of five senses, but he has seen you, albeit not often.

The few times he’s home at regular hours, you’ll pass him in the hallways from your journey to your room to the kitchen downstairs. Only hellos and polite head nods are exchanged as you rush past each other to get to point B. Within the first few days of Kento moving in, you’d have to open the door for Kento when he arrived home. 

“I forgot to tell you the front entrance is hard to close,” you told him with a guilty smile. “I’ve been meaning to contact the landlord, but they’re hard to reach, so I’ve been using the back entrance. Did he give you the backdoor code?”

Kento would stumble inside, apologizing while slipping off his work shoes as you’d slam your hip into the door to close it. Embarrassed, he took your advice and has been slipping in and out of the back entrance that opens directly into the kitchen since. 

Kento thinks you’re nice, but if he has learned anything from his literature teacher before transferring to Jujutsu Tech, it was that nice has no meaning. It was a placeholder word; something to fill a void of empty opinion. Kento knows you, he lives with you, you’re not disagreeable, so you’re nice. Maybe if he wasn’t always at work and used his bedroom for sleeping rather than a place to crash on weekends, he could label you as more than just nice.

When Kento is in his room, he hears you pacing. When Kento is in the same room as you, you smile, then leave for work. When you’re in the living room watching TV, Kento is far away at work, likely staying over to complete the pile of work his boss just gave him that morning, even though it needed to be finished the night of. 

Maybe if he hadn’t been so quick to turn you away, he’d think you’re more than just nice.

It’s quiet in this house for two.

There are footsteps upstairs, but you’re not sure who they belong to. 

You’re in the kitchen, lights on in every room on the ground floor. The living room lights flicker occasionally, and you have headphones on, your music so high you can’t hear any noise beyond the rhythmic beat. You really don’t know whose footsteps belong to. 

At first, you thought the footsteps were Nanami’s, but you swore he wasn’t home. You got home at 5:30, and according to the past opening and closing of the back door entrance in the kitchen, Nanami always arrived home significantly later than you. Poor man.

It was easy to tell whose shoes were whose among the pile that neatly sat outside the backdoor entrance. Your shoes looked so petite compared to Nanami’s shiny work shoes. Come to think of it, he only seemed to keep his office shoes at the kitchen entrance, and the rest were your mix of footwear: white tennis shoes for casual outings, some running shoes comfortable for walking, and shoes fit for the office. If you weren’t embarrassed, you’d have your whole shoe collection down in the kitchen.

Looking at the pile of shoes by the kitchen door, it was obvious Nanami wasn’t home.

So, the locks. Someone could be in the house. Your heart rate had spiked. That’s worse than a ghost. The kitchen back door was locked. You tiptoed to the front entrance of the home. That was also locked. 

You plopped yourself back into the seat in the kitchen. It’s confirmed: there’s a ghost in your home. 

It sounds silly, but you’ve heard what it sounds like for Nanami to walk outside his door. The scuffle of his house slippers against the wood floorboards. There is the creaking, the dragging of feet. You listened for his footsteps to know when the kitchen was free, but also to know if he made it home. That man is so rarely home. If you were closer, you’d confront him about it.

Instead, there is someone lazily walking upstairs, going back and forth between your room and Nanami’s room with bare feet. It sounds nothing at all like Nanami’s footsteps. The sound is evident; there is a ghost in your house. 

When you first toured the house, long before Nanami signed his lease, the landlord’s son told you the house was old. 

“It dates back to the late 1800s,” the landlord's son explained. “We’ve done extra work on the house. When we first bought it, it was a dump. Now, it’s a very nice place to live, and it’s close to the city and work; good for young people like you.”

You had agreed, laughing along to the jokes the son shared. His cheerfulness dropped to a sombre expression when you arrived in the upstairs hallway.

“This neighbourhood is known for strange activity, so be careful.” 

You had thought he was referring to the people who stumbled outside your home when nighttime fell. There would be scuffles here and there, sometimes between street cats, and scraggly yells from outside. It appeared the strange activity reached within your home’s walls, too.

If you knew him a little better, you’d worry for Nanami, but that broody expression of his would do enough to ward away the nightwalkers. 

With the sound of footsteps coming from upstairs, you kept yourself occupied in the kitchen. You could prepare your lunch for tomorrow. Now you’re thinking about calling in sick and finding somewhere to sleep, because there was no way you’d be functional at work. Neither could you sleep in this house with a pacing ghost outside your room. 

The hours in the kitchen have been long. Music continues to blast into your ears. You worry if you’ll feel the ghost’s breath breathing down onto your neck. Would it be cold? Worse, what if you see a ghost?

It is three in the morning, and Nanami Kento finally arrives home. 

"Hi, Nanami."

Kento startles, keys rattling from his hands. You're sitting in the kitchen just as he opens the back entrance to the house, your headphones on the side of the table. Your hands are wrapped around a mug he's sure you can't find in a store. Did you paint it yourself?

Your eyes widen, watching Kento stumble to regain his footing.

"Sorry." He apologizes before you can. "I wasn't expecting anyone in the kitchen at this hour."

You glance at the oven clock. In green, it reads three in the morning.

"Yeah," you start, the word a bit too drawn out. "I'd be in my room, but I think there's a ghost walking around upstairs." You drum your fingers along the table.

Nanami blinks. “There’s a ghost upstairs?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know it’s a ghost? Could it be an intruder?”

You’ve never heard Nanami so serious. His voice is hardened, and he fixes you with a no-nonsense stare. You straighten up, adjusting yourself in your chair. “I got home around 5:30. I locked the door behind me, and I left for work after you and locked it then, too. We never use the front door, and that’s also locked. I don’t think anyone besides us is home.” 

“Okay,” Nanami nods. “Are you hurt?” He seems to soften.

You frown. Small. “No.”

“I’ll check upstairs then.” Nanami slips off his work shoes (so big compared to yours), sets down his briefcase, slips on his house shoes, and calmly moves to the stairs, passing you along the way. 

He does this so cooly, with no second thought, you watch with your mouth hanging open stupidly like a fish. You could never do that, especially without fear. 

Your eyes trail after Nanami as he goes up the stairs. “Do you want me to come?” you call after him. You mean it, but reluctantly.

“No need.” Nanami rolls back his shoulders as he climbs, back somehow straighter than when he entered the house. A serious expression crosses his face, but it does little to erase the dark circles under his eyes. 

Nanami disappears when he turns into the dark hallway towards your bedrooms. 

There’s silence, then the shuffle of feet. It’s the same lazy footsteps from before. You shiver. All you can hear are the ghost’s footsteps. 

“Nanami?” you call. You rise from your seat, about to make your way upstairs. There’s an edge to your voice. Concern, maybe, but the sound of concern for a stranger.

You hear heavy footsteps and the drag of house slippers. They’re Nanami’s footsteps.

You wait with bated breath, hovering over your seat.

There’s the sound of creaking again, then the tall figure of Nanami unharmed makes his way downstairs.

“You’re okay,” you say. You feel dumb for stating the obvious. Nanami rounds the corner and joins you in the kitchen, picking up his briefcase from the ground.

“I’m okay,” he replies. For someone who’s just encountered a ghost, he doesn’t look spooked at all. It makes you feel silly for cowering down here for so many hours and long into the morning. 

Nanami stands in the corner closest to the back entrance of the house, and a little too much like he wants you to leave. His face is pinched into what you think is annoyance. You remain seated at the kitchen table. The only thing keeping you here is the glue of awkwardness. 

The longer you sit, the more Nanami looks ready to retreat into his room as he usually does when he arrives home. Why wouldn’t he? He works for so long, and you don’t spend time with each other. You should go. He wants you to go.

Strangely, it’s Nanami who cuts through the silence. 

“There’s nothing to worry about. The ghost is harmless.”

“Thank you for checking,” you breathe. “But how do you know?” Another silly question, but you can’t help it.

Nanami shrugs. “Some experience.” He glances to the side, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “I have experience with spirits with negative energy. This one didn’t seem to have any bad energy, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You nod. You didn’t take Nanami as one who has experience with the paranormal, but you don’t want to question it. Your heart slows to a steady beat, but your nerves don’t leave you. You haven’t been in the same room as Nanami Kento for this long before. You literally sit at the edge of your seat, making an effort to balance your pelvis on the chair’s edge.

Nanami moves to leave, bowing his head and suitcase in hand. He wants to go. You feel a pang of hurt, but for some reason, you stop him. 

“Really. Thank you for checking upstairs. It was silly of me to be afraid.”

Nanami stops in his steps, straightening up. “You have reason to be afraid.”

For someone who meant to retreat, his voice is oddly affirming. It’s comforting. This time, he looks you straight in the eye, almost to say he means it. You’d like to think he means it. 

Since Nanami has moved in, you have put the extra effort into avoiding him. Yes, you introduced yourself when the landlord’s son had been doing his tours, putting the effort into giving him an extra shiny smile, and you introduced yourself again when Nanami had moved in. You had offered to help him move his things in, but Nanami insisted he do it on his own. He was polite, gentle, but curt. Then progressively blunt. 

“That box is quite heavy,” he would say. “I can handle it.” “I don’t have much. I can manage on my own.” “Let me do it.” It was polite talk, but his monotone and unmoving expression made him feel cold. So, you backed off. He’s handsome, obviously, but intimidating. His eyes are stern and always a little focused on what it’s fixed on, and his mouth is as flat as a plankboard. Maybe you can try again. You scooch away, retreating into your house.

As Nanami moved his belongings into his room, you remained in the living room, a blanket over your legs as you curled yourself into the corner of the couch with a book in hand. Still open, still there if he wants to speak to you. You read lines from your books in chunks rather than fluid pages as you listened to Nanami’s shuffling upstairs and the rearranging of boxes. You want to at least be friendly with your roommate. 

When Nanami returns downstairs and moves to the kitchen, you call out to him. He stops in his steps.

“Would you like to get dinner together later? Something casual? It would be nice to get to know each other.”

“I have more unpacking to do,” was what he said.

“Oh! Maybe a raincheck then?”

Nanami paused, just about to leave. “I will be quite busy at work. I don’t think dinner will work for me.”

Oh, was what you wanted to say. Instead, you smiled and said, “Okay, I understand.”

Okay, he had just dismissed you and completely turned down any prospect of grabbing food altogether. Okay, maybe he has a girlfriend, and he thought you were making a move on him. Okay, but two months into living with each other, this man surely has no girlfriend, with how he’s always at work and never has anyone over. 

The longer he’s lived here, the more he gives you the impression he does not want you here; that he does not want to speak to you. He’s never in the kitchen at the same time as you, unless you're heading to work at the same time. As a result of Nanami’s obvious discomfort, you have done him the favour of hiding. 

It has been dancing away from each other, weaving past one another in the hallway upstairs, and listening for your roommate’s footsteps for two sickly long months.

It has been a lonely two months. 

Now, for some reason, you want to keep the ball rolling. Maybe he isn’t so bad, especially if he was willing to check on the ghost on his own for your sake (supposedly). You fiddle with the handle of your mug.

“I don’t think I like ghosts,” you mumble. Oh, why did you have to say that?

Surprisingly, Nanami gives you a small smile, but there’s a hint of sadness behind his eyes. "I think there can be worse things than ghosts." 

His tone is light. Maybe this is going in the right direction?

"That's true," you admit. "But you can't fight a ghost."

This time, Nanami smiles wider. He offers you a laugh. It’s a bit magical. "Why would you need to fight a ghost?"

"To protect myself," you answer like it's the most obvious thing. Nanami scoffs with a small grin, like he was trying to stop himself.

"And what if it's a friendly ghost?"

"You don’t know if it’ll turn on you.”

Nanami suppresses his smile. “You are very funny, aren’t you?”

It’s your turn to grin big and wide. This is nice, you think. Maybe you shouldn’t have been avoiding him the entire time. 

“Have you had dinner?” you ask. 

Nanami blinks, then glances at the time. “I did, at 9:00.” He purses his lips. “I am hungry, but I have no food.”

You rise from your seat. “I can make us some quick ramen.”

Nanami waves his hands in protest. “There’s no need for that.”

A part of you wants to agree, to submit to his protests. Yet, you’re scared this will go away. He probably won’t talk to you again. 

Why are you so scared? Why do you want to talk to him so badly?

“I’d like to make you ramen as a thank you,” you insist. You’re sure to add an edge to your voice to make your words final. “Sit. Please.”

He’s probably tired. Why are you doing this? You’re just being annoying. You’re in his way.

Still, Nanami draws a kitchen chair back and sits down ungracefully. You don’t know him well, but that feels out of character for him.

As the stove top flickers on and you rummage for a small pot, you hear a sound come from Nanami, but you don’t quite catch it.

“Pardon?” you ask.

“Thank you,” Nanami mumbles a little louder this time. “Thank you.”

He has been so lonely, but you’re here now.

happy birthday, nanami! :) there will be another part to this

[letteremi]

childhood friend!Gojo x fem!reader

valentine's day approaches, and you've decided - this year, is the year. you're going to do it. for real. confess.

part 1 <- part 2 -> part 3

credit goes to @uzmacchiato for the divider!!

Every Valentine’s day, you make chocolates and cards for your friends. Listen, the endless advertisements and love songs throughout the second month of the year was exhausting, and you just wanted to help your friends feel better about having zero romantic prospects. 

And hey, it wasn’t like you had any either. It was a way for you to feel better too, directing all your feelings towards arts and crafts could distract you from the Gojo-shaped mess in your heart. 

It was the last year before the first year of middle school. You were going to miss them badly, especially with the cohort splitting up. This year was the last year for you to truly express how you felt! It’s not like you’re going to see him again, with the leash his clan keeps on him. 

And so when you ice the chocolates, and fold the cards, you make sure to add extra toppings on Gojo’s sweets. He loves his sweets. Fold an extra heart to stick to his tiny card. ‘I love you’ seems a little forward, a little strong for even the type of confession you’re going for. 

So, you settle for a cute message. Written from the heart. 

Dear Satoru, 

When I first saw you, I thought you were mean. But that’s how the best friendships start, right? 

But as I’ve gotten to know you throughout the years, I’m starting to like you more and more. Like how you’re not afraid to be honest, and how you won’t sugarcoat things (despite your love for sugar!!!). You’re incredibly thoughtful, and I wish more people saw you for who you really are, and not for the Gojo name.

I like you a lot! Let’s keep in touch. 

You sign your name in cursive that winds into a little, looping heart. 

Surely, this is straightforward enough?

When your classmates file in the next morning, you hand them their chocolates and their cards with a smile, and a hug — hoping they don’t feel your heart beating out of your chest when you do, because when Gojo walks in, reality starts to hit.

What if he rejects you? What if he rolls his eyes, and tosses your handcrafted gifts to the stack of presents he receives every Valentine’s? Worse, what if he’s nice about it, and it feels like you’re forcing your feelings on him?

What if he thinks your friendship was just a ruse to get closer to him? That none of it was real? 

You don’t even get the chance to hide the incriminating parcel in your bag as your thoughts spiral, because Gojo waves a hand in greeting, eyes darting to the singular package in your grasp and then around the classroom at everyone’s matching bundles. 

His eyes sparkle with knowing and understanding, and a smile pulls at his lips. “Who’s that for?” he asks, but he is well aware of the answer. 

Damn you, Gojo Satoru. 

“It’s actually for me,” you quip, hoping your sarcasm can combat the flush rising to your cheeks. “Yeah, after you stole my pencil case the other day? You don’t deserve anything.”

“Liar.” Gojo smirks, but it lacks any real hostility, settling in the seat beside you with an easy rhythm. 

You huff, heart rate increasing by the second. “Of course, it’s for you.” You toss the bag without giving him a second glance, though you regret it the second you hear the chocolates hitting the table. Your hard work. 

Gojo’s already opening the card before you can object — tell him to read it alone. “I like you a lot,” he reads aloud, voice dipping into a sing-song tease. “Aw, you’re a great friend too.” 

What the hell. 

The words feel like a stab to the gut. You force a laugh, as though this was exactly the reaction you hoped to get. 

A friend.

“Yeah,” you manage, your voice thin, too embarrassed to correct him. “A great friend.” 

And as Gojo tears into the chocolates like a rabid cocoa fiend, you lean back in your chair with a sigh. 

Second attempt — complete, utter failure. 

Oh well. At least you won’t have to see him after this year. 

Right?

taglist: @bloopsstuff @vynn30 @juliarchiv3s @fushiguroooozzz @lagataprrr @justachillgirllui @arahiraaai @jheneea

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

I’d Know You in Darkness | Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Summary: When childhood friends drift apart, there’s no telling if they’ll ever meet again. Their choices seem to pull them further and further away from each other… and then back into each other’s arms.

TW: Mentions of drug abuse, child abuse, car accident, allusions of self harm, some discussions of mental health. Let me know if I miss anything.

Words: 8k+

A/N: So apparently I haven’t posted a fic in 3 years?? I'm kind of scared. And going back to reading fic here is so interesting to see the change in trends. I can go on and on about it, but that would be another post. What an ever changing landscape. And drafts actually autosaves on here?? Wild.

So, anyways, here’s some slow burn childhood friends to lovers Bob Reynolds x Reader word vomit. Bone apple teeth. Reader's nickname is Canary. Reblog and comment if you want a part 2…

____

Bob was never one to believe in soulmates. His father had a temper, and even more so when he drank. That anger would be projected onto his mother who he loved very much but she did not want his protection. “You’re going to make things worse. You’re always making things worse.” Those words echoed through his mind to this very day. Suffice it to say, he did not grow up with the concept of what a healthy and loving relationship should be.

You lived next door with parents that don’t pay much attention to you. At least, as long as you were doing well in school and staying out of trouble, they didn’t care how often you left the house or kept your door locked. 

One day, he ran out of his house and right into you. His face was red and tear stricken, his lip bleeding from a cut and bruising forming around his eye. He scrambled to get up and you grabbed his wrist before he could get away and led him through the back of your house to the kitchen. You grabbed your supplies: a cloth, a bowl of ice, a small tub of ice cream, two spoons, and a bottle of water. Then, you led him upstairs to your room and he sat on your bed while you got the first aid kit from the bathroom.

He had already started eating ice cream when you got back, his blue eyes watching in alert as you took a damp cloth and gently wiped his face, careful of his bruises and cut lip, then wrapped ice into the cloth for his eye. He reluctantly put aside the ice cream to hold the makeshift ice pack to his eye. You got to work in cleaning his lip and disinfecting it, soothing him each time he flinched while you gently cupped his cheek to keep him steady. Once your work was done and you tossed the used q-tips and cotton, you turned to him and tilted your head curiously.

“Your eyes are a nice shade of blue,” was the first thing you said to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, his gratitude extending beyond the compliment. “Why did you help me?”

You frowned. “Because you needed help,” you said as if it was the most obvious thing.

Since then you became best friends, although it wasn’t always easy. The anger from his home would often follow him when he’d meet up with you and at times that anger would be redirected to you. Over the years, you drifted apart then came back again, over and over, learning from mistakes and repeating them again, just as the motions of growing pains do. He gradually learned to be more gentle and tried not to be too quick to anger while you gradually learned not to rely your self-worth on how useful you are to others. 

Prom night. You wanted to ask Bob to prom, but he had asked someone else from class instead. Of course she had said yes. Bob was a cute guy and on his good days, he was the sweetest person that was so full of love he didn't know how to handle it. So, you went with a group of your other friends instead. He was able to steal one moment with you, pulling you aside to a quiet corridor from the gym.

“It was getting too loud in there,” he said, leaning his head against the wall.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you admonished him.

He shrugged. “She kept talking and pulling me here and there. When I asked to go someplace quiet, she assumed the worst and walked away.”

“Thought she’d be enthusiastic about it. She was really into you,” you said halfheartedly, the words tasting bitter in your mouth.

“I think she figured out how boring I was and was desperately trying to make the most of it. And I, uh, snapped at her to be quiet,” he said sheepishly. “She was going on and on about some gossip and she started talking about you and how she knows your parents are losing the house and that you’re probably cheating to get good grades in class.”

You sighed. “Bobert.” He smiled at your nickname for him. “That’s just her opinion. What about you? Didn’t you like her?”

“Thought she was cute and all. She was the only one that showed interest in me –” You gave him a pointed look that he didn’t notice. “ – but if she’s talking trash about my best friend, then all interest for her is gone.” He closed his eyes for a minute and you settled to his side and did the same. You were enjoying the muffled music and silence in between you two when he spoke up again. “Did I mention you look pretty tonight?”

You opened your eyes and felt your cheeks heat up. You tugged on the long sleeves of your outfit and looked at him. “You did now… you look pretty, too.”

He chuckled bashfully, looking down at his loose fitting suit that he got from a thrift store. “A teacher said it reminded him of Talking Heads. Hey, I –”

“Robby! There you are!” a boy shouted from down the hall.

Another joined in. “Dude, let’s go! Kyle’s got his dad’s truck tonight!” Hoots and hollers echoed through the empty hall.

Bob swung his head between you and his friends, his eyebrows raised high in conflicted emotions. He should have told them no, should have stayed with you and taken you home, sneak into your room and watch 80s slashers. His hesitancy made you think he wanted otherwise but didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You sighed, pushing yourself off the wall and stepped towards him.

“Just be safe, Bobert,” you said softly, fixing his tie. Your face was inches from his and both of you will think of this moment to this day because of how you both pulled away, your hands remaining connected to each other until he slipped away with a brush of his fingertips against yours.

The accident was the catalyst, he felt. Morphine injected into his veins, making the pain go away and everything else faded. He needed more of that and once he was discharged, he went out looking for it. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you, of you seeing what he had become. School wasn’t important anymore, getting his next fix to help him forget how miserable and painful life had been was. 

There were arguments that he remembered snippets of, many that he hadn’t remembered at all, not until The Void showed him. How you managed to find him at whatever alley or crack house he ended up in, how he resisted your help, then he’d come back and say he’d do better and fall back into drugs again. You believed in him so much that he could recover, yet The Void in him made him spiteful of you. In his mind, it was killing you to save him, so he was saving you by pushing you away.

He wished you knew that it wasn’t your fault that he slipped away and he shouldn’t have yelled at you, accusing you of abandoning him when he found out you enlisted. He knew you were struggling to break away from your parents and still get into a good school. Your family’s financial situation was complicated yet still made you unqualified for full financial aid, and you weren’t making enough at your job to move out, so you thought the Army was a reasonable alternative.

Despite the promise of leave, the minimum of three years of service seemed too long for Bob. One of his biggest regrets was being high the night you had to leave. When he found a moment of sobriety, reality sunk in that you were gone and he didn’t want to live in that reality just yet.

Then the Blip happened. He wished it happened to him, but he had to keep on living. From what he heard, you had vanished along with half of Earth’s population. Why you and not him? You had so many things to do. You had a purpose, he didn’t. Now those three years felt like nothing compared to those five years without you, because now he couldn’t text or email you or meet up for lunch when you were on leave. Now, you were actually gone.

When you and the others that were Blipped returned, he made sure you couldn’t find him again. He didn’t know that you still tried anyways and that you were always a moment too late. After getting your degree, you transferred to the Air Force where you met Joaquin Torres and Sam Wilson. You occasionally operated as a trio and helped them deal with Samuel Sterns and the Red Hulk until Sam asked you and Joaquin to join his Avengers team. The obvious answer was yes. 

Little did you know that Bob had become the sole survivor of the Project Sentry experiments and would later cast Manhattan in darkness, then become a part of Valentina’s New Avengers. A team of which Sam threatened to sue for copyright.

____

Bob never wanted to join any of the missions. He had taken baby steps in controlling his powers, but Valentina believed in the method of throwing him in the deep end and hoped he would swim and not drown and take everyone else in the water with him. So, here he was on a mission with the team to check out a possible Hydra group. 

The intel given was not sufficient enough and was proving to be more difficult than they were prepared for. Which meant Bob had to utilize his powers more than he would like to protect his friends.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Bob,” Bucky said, gripping his arm. 

Bob whipped his head around to their mission leader, golden rings blazing around his pupils, with one hand raised to hold a Hydra agent upside down in the air. Yelena ducked under Walker’s upgraded shield as bullets were shot before gunning down the other agents. Alexei lifted a large cabinet and used it to block one of the doors.

“We need information, too,” Bucky continued, “If we can’t find anything in their database, we need to question them. Besides, with all that power, you can still make the mistake of having your guard down.”

“But I’m invincible,” Bob shot back, dropping the agent.

“But we’re not.” Bucky gestured to the group. “Three of us may have the super soldier serum, but we can still get hit. Yelena and Ava can get hurt. We’re a team. If any of us lower our guards, then one of us is in trouble.” 

“I think it’s a little too quiet now, no?” Alexei said without lowering his voice.

Yelena shushed him as she held up the datapad. “We’re still in the middle of a Hydra base. The map just updated and it looks like there’ s more rooms than we were initially told.” She held it up for everyone to see. 

Ava reappeared, having ventured ahead. “There’s more locked doors down these corridors, some with different levels of clearances.”

Bucky nodded. “Good work, Ava.” He scanned the updated map and took in their surroundings.

“So, buddy system?” Yelena asked with a shrug.

Bucky and Alexei went ahead towards where their weapons storage should be, hoping to find out what they’re next move is and where they were getting their weapons. Walker and Ava took the corridor where the higher clearance doors were, planning to phase through or bust through. Bob and Yelena took another corridor where electric cables ran across the walls and into different rooms. From Yelena’s assessment, it looked like a quick set up and wasn’t planned for any invaders to break in.

It was hard to say what had set off first. Yelena was looking through their systems for information when there was a series of clicks coming from the other side of the room. Bob turned around for the source of the noise and stood between the threat and Yelena. 

Ava had phased through a high clearance room and found an office with notes and a computer to raid. She let Walker in before going through the computer, allowing him to go through the notes and whatever clues that could be in the room. The computer began to flash error the further she scanned through it when red lights started flashing. 

Bucky and Alexei reached the storage room to find agents already there making moves emptying the storage when there was a pause as one of them mentioned the trucks being delayed. Just then, an explosion hit from the other side of the base. 

Everything was a blur. Ava retrieved what little data she could find and collected the files from the desk before urging Walker to rush out. They ran through the corridors as an explosion shook the building. Walker yanked Ava back as a chunk of the ceiling fell through before she could phase. He looked up through the hole and saw three winged figures flying through the sky, one in the recognizable stars and stripes.

“Sam?!” Walker called out. 

Sam tossed the shield out, hitting three missiles heading towards them. “Joaquin,” Sam urged with an unspoken order.

“On it, Cap,” the new Falcon said, flying out to where Bucky and Alexei were, sounds of shooting and shouting erupting in their direction.

“Canary, check the explosion site.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n,” you said, flying over to where Bob and Yelena were.

Sam landed in front of Walker and Ava, pressing a button on the side to retract his helmet. “Walker, Starr. Director de Fontaine belatedly informed us of this mission with more intel. Someone knew that you were coming.”

“Fuck, we were set up!” Walker shouted, kicking the wall.

“We gotta get you guys out of here before more reinforcements arrive. Do what you gotta do and meet us at the rendezvous point.” He sent the coordinates to their communication device.

“Alright, Captain,” Ava said. Walker shot her a frown which she returned with a shrug. Sam nodded at them both before flying up again.

“‘Captain’?” Walker mocked, “What was that?”

“I don’t know what your deal is. He’s the one that’s actually Captain America and he does have that air of authority and charisma that you don’t,” Ava said, walking past him.

“I’ve got charisma,” Walker muttered, following close behind.

Meanwhile, Yelena coughed as she inhaled ash and dust. Her ear rang as her body struggled to get out of the rubble, each movement nauseating and making the room spin. She couldn’t even call out to Bob as her body shook through another coughing fit. A figure with mechanical wings landed next to her, making her jerk for her gun that she struggled to hold up.

“Hey, it’s okay. Yelena Belova, right?” You tried to soothe her, retracting your helmet and mask to introduce yourself. “They also call me Canary. I was sent with Captain America and the Falcon to retrieve you guys and make sure you return safely. I’m a medic, allow me to help you.”

“Bob… Bob,” Yelena managed to get out, her eyes drifting around.

You restrained yourself from gasping at the name. From the rushed briefing you received from Valentina, you knew that you were eventually going to face Bob, but it felt real now. You scanned the immediate area and turned out with nothing. Hopefully he wasn’t buried under the rubble. Yelena seemed to understand your thought process and shook her head, pointing up at the sky. There, a glowing figure flew past and took out another missile with his body. 

“Okay, I’ll get him, but I need to treat you first.”

You weren’t able to give her the full treatment right now, but at least you had enough supplies. Good thing you’ve studied Tony Stark's work and acquired a thing or two from your time helping out Wakanda’s outreach centers. You scanned her body quickly and thoroughly, before taking out a small device from your utility belt. It expanded into an oxygen device, which you placed over her mouth and encouraged her to breathe in. It was a device inspired by the water breathing apparatus that you saw in Wakanda. Shuri had helped develop a device for treating smoke inhalation and gave one to you. Then, you started putting on patches designed to treat minor burn injuries on the ones that you could see and cleaned and bandaged her head just enough until she could get proper medical attention.

“Belova’s down. Looks like she took more damage from the smoke and impact than the fire, but she’s unable to walk right now,” You communicated through your earpiece.

“Ava and I are the closest,” Walker said, “We can get her.”

You situated Yelena to an even surface away from the smoke, making sure she stayed awake until the others arrived. She lifted the mask off and croaked, “Get Bob. He might be too far gone.”

“I don’t believe that,” you said, hearing footsteps rushing over.

“I got her, I got her,” Walker said, rushing to Yelena’s side.

You wasted no time in getting into the sky again, heading straight for Bob. Your heart seized as you watched him crush an incoming helicopter into a ball and tossed it into another one.

“Bob, stop!” You shouted, flying over. There were no threats left in the air for him to attack. But there was you and from what you’ve seen of Manhattan that day, he might not stop. “Bobert!”

He froze, his whole body turning to you. There was a slight glow around him with blazing golden rings in his eyes, far from the baby blues you knew. You shivered but pushed forward, reaching a hand out towards him. He retreated, clutching his head.

“You! You dared to show your face after you abandoned me!” He hissed, a slight echo in his voice. The glow around his body faded, replaced by a shadow that crawled up his body.

His words were like a knife to your stomach. “I didn’t abandon you! You knew why I enlisted, I –”

“You didn’t want to deal with me anymore. I was holding you back.” The knife kept twisting and twisting.

“I was going to come back for you!” You flew closer. “Bob, please.” 

You surged forwards and grabbed his arms. Suddenly, you feel your mind being pulled under as you were thrown back in time to your teenage years. You found yourself in your childhood home, following your younger self as you got home from school. Up the stairs, down the hall, and to the bathroom. You felt a violent chill wash over you once you recognized this memory. Bob stood next to you, frowning as the scene played out. 

“I don’t want you to see this,” you whispered, pushing him back as the bathroom light bled through the crack of the door and into the hall. 

The light reflected off of his eyes and he could see, just for a moment, a razor blade. Your teenage self raised their arm, palm up. You shoved him away into your room before he could see more. Your wrists were stinging from phantom pains at the memory, most of the scars having faded since then. You couldn’t bear to look at Bob, but you could feel the heat radiating off of his body retreating, the air around you growing heavy and chilled. You forced yourself to look and saw Bob shaking, tears streaking down his face.

“I didn’t know. How could I have not known?” he choked out. The darkness returned, crawling up his neck and covering half of his face again.

“I hid it from you. I didn’t want you to know,” you said, rubbing your wrists together out of an old habit.

“You should have told me!” His voice rumbled. The darkness crawled an inch across his face. “I’m… I’m the worst friend. I should have known… But you didn’t even trust me to know, either, didn’t you?”

You realized what was going on and grabbed his face, the dark side icy cold to the touch. “Bobert,” you said softly. The pinprick of light that was his left eye, along with his glossy blue right eye, wavered. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to see me like that. I… I was ashamed of myself. I thought I was weak and I wanted to be someone that you could lean on. How can you lean on someone who looked unstable, right? And you had it worse at home and I didn’t want to feel any pity or for you to get angry or –”

Bob broke through your hold and wrapped his arms around you. The warmth from his body seeped into yours and you never realized until now how cold you had gotten. The darkness had retreated once more and you were staring into his blue eyes .

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I pushed you away,” he said, sounding almost breathless and strained, like his mind wanted to suppress it but his heart wanted to spill, “When you left… I had gone down a dark path that I didn’t want you to see me in. A path that you had been trying to prevent me from going on this whole time while you had your own darkness to deal with.”

“Bob…”

“No, I need to say this. I missed you so much and I knew you deserved better. I tried to get better and, turns out, there are no shortcuts when it comes to this kind of stuff and I’ve made it worse… but I’ve also got friends now. Friends who support me and make the effort to understand me… just like you had all those years ago when you first patched me up. Now…” Bob gave you a reassuring nod, then let go.

You were yanked back into the present, your gut dropping as you felt yourself free falling. Your wings must have retracted sometime during the vision. The button was jammed, making you scramble for the emergency parachute that you had. Before you could pull it, Bob swooped down and wrapped a strong arm around your waist. The sudden force of motion made you choke, hands scrambling to cling onto his shoulders and arms.

“Breathe, I’ve got you,” Bob said, his face more visible, more like the Bob you knew with those blue eyes that you loved, golden rings glowing faintly around them.

You told him about the rendezvous point and held on as he flew the both of you over. You were the last ones to meet up, feeling all eyes on you. Bob gently lowered you down, his hands on your waist until you stabilized yourself.

“Everyone good?” Sam asked.

You nodded, watching as Bob rushed over to Alexei who had taken over carrying Yelena from Walker. Yelena reached over and weakly punched Bob on the shoulder. He chuckled, letting out a quiet, “Ouch.” Yelena lifted the oxygen mask and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“Someone got carried away and literally left me in the dust,” she said, her voice sounding a lot better than earlier.

“I let my guard down and you got hurt,” Bob said, dropping his head. “I made everything worse.”

Your heart clenched at those words, all too familiar during your shared childhood, but there was a slight relief as his team all shut it down and complimented him. He flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“You didn’t make things worse, just that things could have been handled differently. And we’re gonna work on that,” Bucky said, squeezing his shoulder. “It also looks like you’ve got a little more control over your powers. I’m proud of you, buddy… but maybe don’t get carried away next time.”

The plane ride itself was uneventful and the group took the time to get their bearings and consolidate the information that they had on the situation. You stayed by Yelena’s side, seeing improvements in her health already. Bob sat on her other side, deep in thought. You tried not to let your mind wander about the nature of their relationship. Besides, it wasn’t your place.

Walker had ceased his pacing after a while, having accepted that Valentina was still going to screw with them despite holding much of her dark secrets that could not only get her impeached but also arrested. He was now getting heated about football with Sam, their volume fluctuating along with Alexei’s occasional bouts of snores as he sat with his legs stretched out before him and his hands folded on his stomach, a picture of peace and content in an uncomfortable sleeping situation. With Yelena’s condition stabilized, Ava had taken your spot next to her, keeping her up with hushed chatter. Joaquin interrupted Bucky’s attempt of a nap by his barrage of questions about Steve Rogers and stories of growing up in Brooklyn more than seventy years ago. This left you and Bob.

Bob played with the sleeves of his tactical suit that looked slightly too big on him. You’ve seen in his file that Valentina gave you that he had been given a gaudy golden suit when they wanted to tout him around as their golden boy. Even that appeared to be the wrong size on him. You saw him stop, then glanced at you and down at your sleeves. You lifted your arm and he gingerly took it, as if he hadn’t thrown a metal table, blown a hole in the ceiling, and crushed a helicopter earlier that day.

He slowly peeled the sleeve back, revealing faint horizontal scars. You felt his body shake again but he held back his tears, covering the scars with the expanse of his palm, the heat burning away the phantom stinging. You dropped your head on his shoulder and reached over to his left arm near his elbow junction where bruising would speckle his skin.

“We’re here now,” you said softly, loud enough for only the two of you to hear.

He felt him nod, resting his head against yours. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

You closed your eyes, basking in the comfortable stillness between you. He was here with you now, after all these years of chasing after his shadow. Despite everything, both of you were still here. Are either of you still the same person that you were the last time you saw each other? It felt so easy to fall into each other, your bodies familiar with each other’s touch, and your eyes recognizing every microexpression and movement in body language.

Bob felt your body go slack against his, your breathing evened out as you fell asleep. He was worried that touching you again would pull you into another shame room, but The Void was quiet. He glanced around at his team, the majority of them preoccupied with their own thing.

Except for Bucky. One of the most observant team members was staring at him. His eyes flickered between you and Bob, then raised a curious eyebrow. Bob got flustered but couldn’t bring himself to pull away from you, as if you were magnets that finally found the other piece to stick to. So instead, Bob shot him with his best attempt of a death glare without any malice behind it. Bucky simply snorted and turned back to Joaquin whose questions were slowing down as the adrenaline wore off.

____

As soon as the plane landed at the Watchtower, the team stormed through and demanded to see Valentina. Of course, she was in an “important meeting” and didn’t want to be interrupted. The team didn’t care and was ready to burst through when Sam persuaded them not to. In his soothing and rational way, he convinced them to wash up and rest before dealing with her. 

You, Sam, and Joaquin, were not given accommodations despite Valentina’s insistence on you three staying in the tower for a while. That meant that you had to share a room with someone. Joaquin grinned, going in to wrap an arm around Bucky when Sam called dibs. Everyone else avoided eye contact, not sure if they were able to handle his high energy. 

Yelena nodded at you and gestured to follow her. “Doctor needs to keep an eye on their patient,” she said over her shoulder. She shot Bob a smirk, letting him know that she will definitely interrogate you about the nature of your relationship with him.

Bob glared and was startled when Joaquin wrapped an arm around his shoulder instead. Everyone quickly retreated to their rooms, leaving Bob and Joaquin alone in the hallway.

“So, I wanna talk about those cool powers that I saw earlier,” Joaquin started as Bob shuffled the both of them to his room, “Hey, if you don’t want to talk about it, then we can talk about something else. Heard you’re from Florida like me and Canary. Where from?”

They disappear into Bob’s room, Joaquin’s voice silenced as the door seals behind them.

Meanwhile, you had taken Yelena to the small med bay that Valentina had set up, the rest of the floor occupied by lab rooms that she assured the team was not meant to create anything nefarious or recreate the super soldier serum. After looking Yelena over, the doctor recommended rest, fresh air, and prescribed painkillers for her aching muscles and headache.

After heading to her room, you found yourself at Yelena’s desk as she showered, the bathroom door wide open, letting the steam out. “So, tell me, Canary,” Yelena shouted through the rushing water, “How do you know our Bob?”

“Well -”

“What? Sorry, I cannot hear you from all the way over there. Just sit on the toilet or something.”

You came over and washed your face at the sink first before settling on the toilet lid. “Well, Bob and I go way back. We were neighbors since grade school and just… drifted apart near the end of high school.”

“Neighbors, huh? You must have heard a lot next door.” You knew what she was doing, but you had nothing to hide, so you answered.

“Yes, I knew about his father. Patched Bob up a couple of times because of that asshole and all those assholes in school. It’s how we met. I hated staying in my house. It was too suffocating. Then, this boy ran into me. He looked terrible. Black eye, busted lip, the works. Gave him some ice for his eye, cleaned his lip, and got him ice cream.”

“Whoa,” Yelena popped her head out of the shower, “Can I have ice cream after this?”

You shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

Yelena smiled, slinking her head back in the shower. “I like you, Canary. You’re a smart doctor, you’re sweet like ice cream, and you’re our Bob’s long lost love. Ha, I think binge watching melodramas with my dad is really affecting me.”

“Wait, wait, wait, who said anything about long lost love?” you said, flustered.

Yelena poked her head out again, water dripping everywhere as she stared you down. “You’ve experienced The Void, yes? Seeing the things that you were the most shamed and traumatized about?” You nodded. “Well, the team has seen many of Bob’s and you were there for many of them. You cared for him. You loved him. I saw you on the plane. You still do.”

You stared at your hands, thinking back to when you touched his arm. For years, you would see finger shaped bruises, then tiny dotted ones, but now they were gone and something else replaced it. You felt the power that hummed under his skin, subtle but warm. But just because the bruises aren’t visible doesn’t mean it’s erased from his memory.

“It was easy to love him. It’s needing him to believe that makes it difficult.”

The shower squeaks off and Yelena’s arm shoots out to grab her towel. “You can say that again. Imagine a team full of emotionally constipated assholes learning to communicate and express emotions just so our teammate doesn’t get consumed by his own darkness.”

“Helps you guys to not get consumed by your own darkness, too, right?”

Yelena stepped out of the shower, wrapped in her towel. She studied you, then nodded. “It does.”

“You know, since we’re here, I think you guys should also speak to Sam,” you said, following her out the bathroom, “He was a counselor at the VA. He may not have the super soldier serum, but I like to say that his superpower is empathy. He’s really good at what he does.”

“I know! I saw that video of him talking down that Red Hulk. Super cool stuff. I don’t think the team would be up for it, though.”

“He also does group sessions,” you suggested.

“Very tempted, Canary, but first, after you shower we might binge watch another soap opera. We do that a lot when we unwind and want something that’s not action. My dad started it and we all just sat down and watched it with him.”

You didn’t think that when Yelena said “we” that it meant everyone on the team was actually sitting down and watching soap operas together. Everyone had taken Sam’s advice and washed up, their bodies seemingly more relaxed as they slowly gathered in front of the large flat screen TV in the common room. Snacks and drinks were up for grabs on the coffee table and the team had taken the usual spots around the couch.

There were two chaise lounges that sandwiched the wide couch. Yelena walked past you and stretched out on one of them, her dad already settled on the other one. Walker was in a lazy boy chair that was angled to the TV, clutching a banana from the fruit bowl with the leg rest inclined. Ava sat next to Yelena, sharing a popcorn bowl that had extra butter and pickled jalapenos. Bucky appeared relaxed for once, although he seemed more relaxed ever since Sam arrived anyways. He perched himself on the other lazy boy chair, rocking it like an old disgruntled man with a beer in hand. 

Joaquin and Sam didn’t mind sitting on the floor with their backs against the couch, two beers in front of them and a big bowl of chips and salsa between them. Bob sat next to Joaquin, a small smile on his face as the other man offered him chips and salsa, too. You took the empty spot on the couch above Bob, grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl to pick on. Bob looked up and offered you a smile as you settled in, shifting around so that your legs boxed Bob in. He wrapped an arm around one of them and leaned back with a soft sigh.

Everyone’s face was glued to the screen as things started to get tense. You gently ran your fingers through Bob’s brown hair, leaning over occasionally to offer an orange slice to him. He’d absentmindedly angled his head to take it with his mouth and hummed in appreciation, his eyes not leaving the screen.

“Why won’t you look at me? Markus!” the woman on screen screamed.

“Elizabeth, we can’t!” the man, Markus, said, yanking her hands away from him.

She gasped, her makeup suddenly running. “Why not? I love you! You said you loved me!”

“Ah, man, I have a bad feeling about this,” Joaquin whispered, having experience watching telenovelas with his mom and grandma.

“Because…” Markus whipped around, breathing heavily, “You…” He looks down, then peers up at her intensely, “You don’t know what happened to your father, do you?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “What does this got to do –” 

“My brother… had a child out of wedlock.”

“Oh, my god,” Yelena muttered in Russian, chewing on a jalapeno.

“Could have been worse,” Ava added. Sam shot her an incredulous look. She shrugged.

“You…” Markus continued, shaking Elizabeth’s shoulders, “Are my long lost niece.”

The scene froze and the outro music began.

Bucky groaned, complaining about how the twists haven't changed over the years and that he hated those “secretly related” tropes. Walker and Alexei exclaimed with the former throwing his banana peel to the screen, making the TV wobble slightly.

“Welp, as their patient, Doctor Canary said I could have ice cream,” Yelena said, handing the popcorn bowl back to Ava and hopping off the chaise lounge to get to the kitchen.

“Good, I need it!” Alexei said, getting up to follow his daughter.

“I see you’ve upheld your tradition,” Bob said, looking back at you upside down.

You leaned forward so that your face was right above his and squished his cheeks. “It helped my very first patient. I figured I could use it on special occasions.” 

He placed his hands over yours and kept them in place, a dopey smile spreading on both of your faces. It was silly, but being together after all those years made it feel easy to be. Life had not granted either of you many moments of softness. Sure, you made friends after Bob, including Joaquin who had become like a brother to you, but it was only recently that you had opened up more to him and even Sam and you had a feeling that it was the same with Bob and his team who also had their rough edges.

“Lovebirds, get your ice cream or else we’re eating it all without you!” Walker called out.

The gallon of vanilla ice cream was scrapped clean as everyone took their fill. You and Bob made your bowls and decided to retreat to his room, ignoring the teasing from the team.

“We will recap you when you return,” Alexei said as you both disappeared into the hallway leading up to the rooms.

You sat cross legged on his bed facing each other as you recounted your days in the Army, your decision to continue serving after college and medical school by transferring to the Air Force, and your life that led you to working with Captain America. Bob finally opened up about what happened to him, how he had struggled with his addiction while trying to hold down a job, how he traveled to Malaysia for a study, hoping to get better and be better. Then, he spoke of how he met his new family and how it led to them being called The New Avengers.

“Who would have thought that our decisions would lead us back to each other like this?” you said, putting your empty bowl on the bedside table. 

You looked around his room, a lot more spacious than his childhood room, a little less personalized, but it had potential. Your eyes landed onto Bob who was frowning as he was lost in thought. He had changed out of his tactical gear and into a blue and dark blue striped baggy sweater and comfy gray sweatpants, his brown wavy hair reaching his jawline. He looked soft and comfortable, not just in his clothes, but also in himself. You took his empty bowl out of the way, stacking it with yours, and scooted over to him. He blinked as he was pulled out of his thoughts by your movement, his eyes watching you closely.

You reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, your hand lingering for a few seconds before you pulled away again. “That glow in your eyes,” you started to say, “Does it happen whenever you use your powers?”

Bob nodded, playing with his sleeves. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then finally met your eyes. “I’ve been trying to keep it under control… keep him under control. Whenever my powers get too much, he takes over.”

“He?”

He tried his best to explain it the way he understood it. There was no set definition and some of it was uncharted territory. Valentina had facilitated this transformation, but even she didn’t know what she created. He likened it to a form of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Not quite separate identities, but a little more like parts of himself, his emotions, being separated into their own physical manifestation. His arrogance and delusions of grandeur. His emptiness and shame. They may share his memories and see through his eyes, but being intense manifestations of his emotions can be too much for him and caused black outs on his end. He was getting better at it and he had been remembering more as his control over his powers improved.

“I think I get it,” you said. You tilted your head to the side. “I’m glad you’re doing better, with all things considered. You have a team to support you and the means to train and control your powers.”

“And look at you, a doctor that flies with Captain America.” You both laughed at how funny life was, then sat in a comfortable silence. Bob shifted around to lay down on the bed and patted the space next to him. You joined him, your hands centimeters away as you stared up at the ceiling. “Was this what you have always thought your life would be like?”

“There’s no way I would have thought that I’d be working with superheroes. I’m just… me, you know? And to be honest, I’ve always pictured us someplace, I don’t know, maybe a medium sized town. Not too small where everyone knows everyone and not too big where it’s too chaotic and noisy. We’d have a house in a nice neighborhood. Not cookie cutter type but not rundown. I’d be working at a local clinic helping people and you’d be working at the bookstore, probably reading more books than you were selling them. Now that I think about it, those were big asks.”

Bob turned to his side to face you and smirked, nudging your shoulder. “You imagined us living together?”

Your cheeks heated. “Well, yeah. We were supposed to escape from our hometown, start over somewhere else together. That was the plan, anyways, after serving and finishing college. Then, things happened.”

You risked a glance at him and he was staring back, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m sorry that I accused you of abandoning me,” he said shakily.

You cupped his cheek gently, reminiscent of the day you first patched him up and the many times after when you had looked at him with those eyes that were full of something he never was sure about. It was never a look he saw at home, so he didn’t wonder about it until now. It made his throat tighten, his heart squeeze, but yet his body could not help but lean into you every single time. So he did, he finally gave into it and that constricting feeling he had was not because of you, it was because of himself for suppressing happiness and the yearning to lower his guard, to just be. It was the fear of being hurt again, of being caught in a moment of weakness and having it turned against him. When he gave in, it all spilt out. 

He wrapped his arms around you and cried, one of your hands rubbing circles on his back while the other ran your fingers through his hair. He had gotten better at physical touch and expressing himself. The whole team did.

Yelena had become his best friend and was the first to offer a hug if he needed it and sometimes, especially after a rough mission, she would ask for a hug, too. Alexei started with more of a fatherly pat on the back, but he would easily hug his daughter, while Walker’s was more of a brotherly with a tough exterior pat. Ava was still getting used to it, having spent years not being able to hold a solid form for long, but she appreciated an arm squeeze every now and then, reminding her of her new stable being, that there are others who’d notice if she’d disappear. Bucky was a surprise to him. Despite his resting grumpy face, his hugs were warm and weighted. Grounding and reliable.

Your hugs, though… Your arms felt like protective walls, your body heat a warm blanket. Fingers caressing him like he was precious, your soothing voice soft like sharing a secret that only the two of you know. But there was something else, too. Time has passed and neither of you have gone unscathed by it. Your hands were steady and firm. You could be gentle, but there was more of an assuredness to them. Your arms pulled him in tighter, like you were shielding him from the world and holding in his darkness. Gone was the hesitancy that held you back and Bob responded just the same. He knew he was broken in some ways and you still had shame rooms that were left untouched.

Despite these changes, Bob was quite sure of this, something that he had a small taste of when you were both safe in your childhood room and away from the world, when you both were in that hallway during prom. He had seen it happen between Sam and Bucky and in a familial way between Yelena and Alexei. Two people who would bicker and spend a good amount of time away from each other, but always fall into a familiar rhythm with each other. Another foreign concept that he could not quite place in his unstable life until now. 

Your hugs were like coming home.

“You feel a lot warmer than I remember,” you mumbled, “And not the sweaty stinky puberty or withdrawal warm kind.”

He hummed. “I run hot now. Something to do with having the power of a thousand suns.”

“Hot damn.”

Bob snorted at your corny joke. “I love you,” he whispered, muffled as his lips were pressed against your head.

“I love you, too.”

It was easy, a simple truth that grew since that fateful meeting. Whether it will mean anything more would be too early to say. What mattered now was that you were together again.

____

Joaquin was strolling down the hallway as the group called it quits for the night, ending the soap opera marathon on yet another cliffhanger involving amnesia and a possible character death. He almost reached Bob’s room when Walker steered him away.

“Yeah, no, buddy, I think you’re going to be rooming with me tonight,” he said, redirecting him to his room.

“Oh, are they… okay.” Joaquin pointed at Bob’s door and then turned away, letting the man guide him. “So, I heard Sam and Bucky dislocated your shoulder. How does that work with the super soldier healing factor?”

“Oh, boy,” Walker sighed.

“I was actually looking forward to our sleepover, but I guess this is fine, too,” Yelena said, heading to her own room.

“Ah, young love,” Alexei said, “But we are all in agreement that any of you bring someone over in the future, we would have to interrogate them, yes?”

“I’m never bringing anyone over,” Ava muttered, “Goodnight guys.”

There was a chorus of goodnights before the doors were closed. Sam and Bucky walked side by side, glancing at each door as if they were prefects at a boarding school. Bucky had a fond smile on his face, which he quickly wiped away when he caught Sam looking.

Bucky cleared his throat and pulled a frown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sam said with a chuckle, “Just that you’ve got an interesting team here. I think this is good for you.”

“Does that mean you’ll pull the lawsuit?”

“Ha ha. I know I was upset with you, but my fight isn’t with you, it’s Valentina. I’ve seen how governments exploited heroes, soldiers, and Valentina is self-serving and sly. I don’t want her to be waving the Avengers name around to get her way. But, if you join my team…” Sam raised his eyebrows, letting the offer sit.

They stopped in front of Bucky’s room as he thought it through. “You’re asking me to join your Avengers team?” Bucky asked incredulously.

Sam shrugged. “I was always going to ask, but you weren’t answering any of your calls. It was only when you were made Valentina’s Avengers did you try calling me back. I gotta say, man, you were really scrambling there.”

“It wasn’t planned. We were actually about to arrest her when she told the press that we were the new Avengers, so…”

“Yeah, I kind of figured. I’m just messing with you.” Sam looked across at Bob’s door. “You know, I’ve never seen Canary initiate physical touch beyond a professional level. Heard their folks weren’t the affectionate type. Joining the army, then the Air Force helped them form bonds and they got a real shock with how Joaquin is, but this is the most affectionate and soft I’ve seen them.”

Bucky nodded in understanding. “Bob’s had it rough, too, growing up. We knew of Canary to an extent. Childhood friends that grew apart. When I saw it… I couldn’t help but think of Steve, you know? Sometimes when Bob puts himself in the line of fire to save his friends, I think of that little guy from Brooklyn standing up to assholes in a damp alleyway. His pops can be real mean, too. Had to patch him up all the time. But them? I think they’ve got something special.”

“Let’s slow down and let them figure it out, huh? Besides, we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“Lead the way, Cap.”

[soft-october-night]

When you bend over backwards to make your sister in law's visit nice but her husband from hell actively makes everything worse and bad and then gets offended the moment you lay down the most reasonable boundary in existence.

Things this man did, in no particular order:

1. Thought they could stay for 2 weeks without asking

2. Brought the cat without asking (I am slightly allergic and I had given them my room)

3. Threw unused cat litter all over my room because 'it just ended up in their luggage somehow'

4. Flushed unflushable kitty litter down the toilet and actively argued with me when I asked him to stop

5. Put EXTREMELY GROSS AND SOILED clothing items on my rug and in my unlined wastebasket. Actively fought me when I politely and quietly asked him to dispose of it properly

6. Left all dirty dishes out and dirty napkins on the table

7. Did not inform me of his wife's newly developed SIGNIFICANT MOBILITY ISSUES

8. Told me "it's a mess in that room, you're really going to have to do a deep clean when we leave" in regards to how he destroyed my room

9. Refused to open his wallet to pay for a single meal we went out for or even attempt to cover his and his wife's share.

10. Every time his wife tried to tell a story he would interrupt her and talk about himself.

11. Insisted on staying in our home for three days after we had left to go to Michigan.

12. Sent an email to my spouse about how offended he was and how rude I was when I asked him to move the soiled items of clothing off the flood and out of the unlined wastebasket.

DID I MENTION IM 13 WEEKS PREGNANT???

[blossomcola]

how about idol!reader and bodyguard!gp!hn, like reader was in a bad mood and ended up being rude to the staff. When they got back to the dorm, she made sure to punish reader properly for that attitude

not to mention hn has an unnie kink too🤔🤔

pairing. dom!gp pham hanni x sub!fem reader

content warnings. blowjob, deep throat, degradation, face fucking, hair pulling, humiliation, throat fucking.

hanni accepting the job of a star's personal bodyguard just because she needs the money, regretting it almost instantly after noticing that the idol is another nepo baby with fame to her head and who feels superior to the rest. she would have given up the second one but the pay was good and she couldn't turn down a job opportunity that would probably never come again!

but she’s fed up with your behavior and constant whims. she doesn’t tolerate your shitty attitude and behavior, conceited personality, and how you treat others just for being you. many times she has to bite her tongue to avoid doing something she will regret later and that will cost her her job, so she’d just have to hold back the urge to give you a less–than–nice answer every time you were being a spoiled brat. of course, hanni would love to be able to say something that would knock your pride and make you at least stop messing around for the rest of the day, but unfortunately, that opportunity hasn’t presented itself yet.

until one day this finally happens! your day wasn’t the best, but that wasn't a reason for you to treat the entire staff and even your own fans badly when you arrived at the airport! so good that hanni was also having a shitty day and you would notice that once you got to the van to go to the company to continue with your exhausting schedule <3 you couldn’t even try to act witty around her because you’d be completely blindsided when she suddenly grabbed you by the hair and shook you like a rag??? not letting you say anything about it because she would pull your hair until you were face to face and the look she gives you makes you understand that it is not a good time to talk...

nothing better than fucking your bratty mouth to remove any trace of bad attitude from your body <3 both of her hands would be holding your head in place so you could use your mouth freely, leaving you with the only option to let hanni do whatever she wants with your body because if you try to put up a little resistance she would only make things worse for you, and of course you don’t want that! she was already fucking your mouth in a way that made your throat sore and made you drool all over her cock, along with her constant teasing or certain moments where she would take advantage of any little thing to insult you with gusto because she has a certain resentment towards you! you always abuse your position and get your way whenever you want, so why wouldn’t she do the same when the opportunity finally presents itself? hanni doesn’t regret or feel ashamed of being able to put you in your place after having had a criticizable attitude for so long because fame has gone to your head, and nothing is better than giving someone a taste of their own medicine.

[subtextdecoder]

TBHX: Nice vs X and some random thoughts

The parallel between Nice and X is interesting. Both fixing the angle of something on their table...

And then, the only moments we see spirals in TBHX is with X and Nice. I made a post about the meaning of spirals and many other things HERE, if anyone's interested.

We believe that the incident that caused Nice be in a downward spiral (intentional choice of words) has to do with Extro(Smile). And so, despite Extro being related to many other characters, we also know of his encounter with X. Could it be that fighting X made Extro go crazy, which led him to drive Nice mad too? It wouldn't be surprising if Nice had big admiration for Extro and after he went nuts it probably had an impact on Nice as well. We're yet to find out.

This is a stretch, but the only moments we see people's hands being depicted the following way towards a hero is with both Nice and X. Not to mention the color scheme, a mix of white and golden.

I don't know if it makes sense or if it means anything. I juts find it curious. Also, in the ED, after X breaks "reality", and the heroes are falling, Lin Ling in the only one, or seems to be the only one, that isn't awake.

Extra thoughts:

We see these people going after X

I think the guy in the middle, as we saw before in X's video, could be related to Mr. Shang, who's none other than Treeman's CEO (another curious connection to Nice). Mr. Shang is doing his own thing trying to figure out what fear is while probably, like the other CEO's, chasing after information on X.

Regarding the other two characters, I have no idea who they are or if it's gonna be relevant. The last one could be the guy we see in Dragonboy's video? Not sure.

Extra thoughts 2:

There are so many possibilities as to who/what X actually is. After today's episode (14), it was made official that we are dealing with things foreign to Earth. This is not surprising at all, of course, especially considering the nature of Zero's power... I think his cosmic abilities weren't just for show, maybe he was the reason something that didn't belong to Earth ended up here. Or maybe it's not related to that incident. Regardless of what it is, we've seen depictions of X in space a few times:

And after Extro fought X he mentioned opening his eyes and suddenly he was in front of the moon. These space related themes + Zero's "apocalypse day"

+ the look of X's apartment in the Hero Tower

+ the OP, ED and Nice's theme using space metaphors or being direct about "saving" the Earth, gives me the idea that X could really be the God of probability, i.e, life, i.e nature itself.

OP: "Picture your planet in disharmony" ED: "follow a clue from space" Paragon: "It's so serene, the blue and green, from outer space If we all could make it work, it could be such a happy place"

Idk, it's just something I often think about... It would be interesting if he was the embodiment of the universe making sure things would follow their natural course instead of having life and planets existence being dictated by people and their "destructive power". Maybe he's been around since the events with Zero, or even before that, and has now decided to take action because things might be getting out of hand, which could lead to another, or an even worse, blood bath(annihilation). Who knows... Related to the line in Paragon: "It's so serene, the blue and green, from outer space If we all could make it work, it could be such a happy place" is followed by "We are much more than the sum of all our parts So go and capture all their hearts"

The blue and green is Earth, and then when it mentions "capture all their hearts", I immediately think of the OP scene where we have the blue and green heart being released from the trust chains:

It shows the heart in other colors too, and I already mentioned why I think that is in another post, but it's just an interesting detail. Probably not an intentional parallel, but still cool.

[quartz-kilsviken]

Honest, Vivid, Messy Color

Chapter 2

➸ Synopsis: Brooklyn Elementary has been your second home for over a decade. When the Blip hit, 22 of your kindergartners vanished in an instant. Now, five years later, they're finally coming back and you're doing everything you can to be ready. While hauling supplies back to your classroom, you meet your new neighbor: Bucky Barnes. His photo's been on your classroom wall for years, alongside Steve Rogers, both former students of the very school you now teach in.

Or

Bucky Barnes falls for the colorful, optimistic, and slightly clumsy kindergarten teacher who lives across the hall.

TW: Brief mentions of experience of SA, but it will be kept vague. Not by Bucky, or any present characters.

➸Pairing: James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x reader

➸Chapter word count: 2,258

➸ Tags: Slow Burn, neighbors, friends to lovers, eventual smut, no use on Y/N

➸Chapter Note: Woohoo~ Bucky POV! We don’t like Dr Raynor in this house. To quote Bucky Barnes, “You’re a terrible shrink.” (눈_눈)

➸Previous Chapter Link

“Tell me how you spend your day, now that you’re a civilian.”

Dr. Raynor manages to make even a simple question sound like an accusation. ‘You’re wasting your new life already, James?’

This is his fifth session with the psychiatrist the government requires him to see. He understands why, honestly, but that doesn’t mean he has to fully cooperate. He’ll sit here, show her he’s alive and not planning on going rogue or hurting anyone, then leave.

The office is nice enough. Nothing fancy. It has a big window, a few plants. The building is kept cold, which he wouldn’t normally enjoy, but with how hot it is in New York—

“I asked you a question, James.”

Bucky sighs and shifts his attention from the window to the woman sitting across from him.

“I wake up, go for a walk to get breakfast, and then I go home.”

“That’s it?”

What does she want him to say? He’s doing exactly what they told him to do.

He clenches his jaw a few times, trying to figure out how to appease her.

“I’m not hurting anyone.”

“You’re not living either. When’s the last time you talked to someone?”

He watches as Dr. Raynor pulls out her notebook. She clicks her pen a few times, and he tries not to cringe at the sound. Clearly, she doesn’t like his answer.

“My neighbor. Two days ago. I walked her to the school she works at.”

That seems to surprise her, which Bucky tries not to take offense to. He hadn’t planned to bring up the girl across the hall—especially not because it would lead to her classroom, which would lead to the photo. Or worse, it might lead to the fact that he’s been wanting to find a reason to talk to her again.

He’s spoken briefly to others in the building, mostly the older residents. They seem to enjoy small talk, likely because they don’t have much family in the area. That’s fine. But this had been different.

He’d seen her around the building, always a little lost in her own world. A flash of color, bright smiles lighting up the otherwise dark hallways.

Bucky had been a soldier, had done things most people couldn’t imagine. And yet, somehow, he found her intimidating.

It was easier to just keep to himself.

Two days ago, he’d been planning his usual walk to get breakfast. He paused by his door, listening for signs of the other residents.

The older man to the left of his apartment was already in the kitchen, pots clanging, curses echoing faintly through the paper-thin walls. The middle-aged woman on the right was still asleep. He didn’t have to listen hard to know; her snoring could probably be heard through the whole building.

The girl across from him, though, she seemed to be getting ready to go somewhere. Soft footsteps across the floor, boxes being dragged, closet doors opening and closing.

Peeking through the small peephole, Bucky watched as she finally stepped into the hallway but his usual view of the pretty woman was blocked by a stack of large boxes, filled to the brim with strange, colorful items.

He realized quickly what was about to happen. The building was old, untouched for years, and loose floorboards were scattered throughout. One of them sat directly where she was about to step.

Without thinking, he opened his door and stepped out, managing to grab the boxes just as she tripped.

Bucky told himself it was the polite thing to do, walking her to the school. He had been planning on trying a new diner, but that was in the opposite direction of Brooklyn Elementary, so he’d just plan on trying it another day. He knew it was obvious he had trouble keeping a conversation, it made most people uncomfortable. They’d often find ways to leave. She didn’t seem to mind, likely patience learned from having to talk to children all day. It had been going well enough, until she stopped walking. He felt his skin go cold, bracing for what was about to happen. It was rare that people recognized him. He probably shouldn’t, but part of him was thankful for the Blip, only because it meant people forgot about Hydra and the worldwide manhunt for him.

“You're on my wall!”

He—what?

She quickly seemed to realize how lost he was. “Wow, that sounded incredibly weird out loud. What I meant was, you’re Bucky Barnes, right? I have a photo up in my classroom. You and Steve Rogers.”

Right. Okay. Bucky Barnes. Sergeant Barnes. That means, though, she likely knows who he was after, and he’s fighting the part of him that wants to ask. He had planned then to place the boxes in her class and quickly make his exit, content to go back to avoiding her. But he found it hard to walk away—made harder by the conversation about the photo.

“Well, what did the two of you talk about?” Dr. Raynor’s curiosity is evident, and Bucky wants to shut it down before it gets too far.

“Not much.” Good. She deflates, finally closing her notebook.

“James, you can’t shut yourself out. I understand having a hard time talking to new people, but you should at least make some effort. Have you had any contact with Sam?”

The brick phone the government issued him sits heavy in his jacket pocket. He knows how to use plenty of advanced tech, touch screens aren’t a problem, and yet he can’t figure out how to send a text with this thing.

“I call him.” Which isn’t a lie. What he’s keeping to himself, however, is that Sam almost never answers. Instead, he receives a text along the lines of ‘Can’t call right now. Send a text like a normal person.’

“That’s good.” Dr. Raynor glances at the clock, realizing their session is over. “I want you to continue to work on that this week. Keep in contact with Sam, and try to talk to others around you, even if it’s brief.”

As Bucky rides the elevator up to his apartment floor and steps out into the hall, he pauses. One of the first things he noticed about the girl across the hall is that she almost always has music playing softly. Not loud enough to bother anyone, he certainly doesn’t mind. Usually, it’s something he doesn’t recognize, but every so often it’s a song or singer he’s familiar with.

He thinks again about his phone. He could’ve asked Dr. Raynor to show him how to use it, but he would rather ask literally anyone else on the planet. He could call Sam and ask, but that would mean Sam would need to pick up, which is why he’s in this situation to begin with. His other neighbors are likely just as clueless as he is. Except one.

Rocking on his heels, he flips the phone around in his pocket, glancing down the hall. She wouldn’t question why he needed help. She already knows who he is. But that’s exactly why he hesitates. Sure, she didn’t seem scared of him at the school, but in her own home it might be a whole other story. He would stay in the hall, she could quickly show him, and then he could disappear into his apartment, leaving her to whatever it is she’s doing.

Bucky hesitates before knocking on her door, stepping back to leave a generous amount of space between himself and the frame. She answers quickly, and he tries to hide how relieved he is when a smile overtakes her face.

“No way, I was just thinking about you!”

He’s starting to realize it’s impossible to predict what she’s going to say.

“I mean, I was thinking about ways to properly thank you for the other day. I landed on baking cookies—they should be done now.”

He watches her disappear into her apartment, stunned. Is he supposed to follow? This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to just get help and leave. His question is answered when she pops around the corner, gesturing for him to come inside before disappearing again.

It’s a mirror layout to his own apartment, but it couldn’t be more different. It’s warm, lived in, and bright. Everything is kept neat and organized, which is good considering the amount of things she has. Making his way to the kitchen, he watches as she removes a baking sheet from the oven, then turns the heat off.

“They need a few minutes to cool.” She catches herself, like something dawns on her. “I didn’t even ask why you’re here.”

“I was hoping you could help me with something.” He pulls the phone from his pocket. “I can’t figure out how to send a text on this thing.”

She takes the phone from his hand, making her way over to the dining table and pulling out a chair for him. Taking a seat, he watches as she flips it open, a soft hum escaping as she presses a few buttons.

“Government-issued, isn’t it? They gave you the most impractical phone ever invented.” Scooting closer, she angles the screen so he can see. “It’s simple once you get the hang of it, just tedious. Each number correlates to three letters. You have to rotate through each before getting to the one you need. See, let’s say you want to spell out the word ‘hi.’ You’ll need to press the number 4 two times, then the number 4 three times.”

Bucky made the right decision. There’s no judgment, no questions he doesn’t want to answer, just a simple explanation. Relaxing, he leans in a bit more to see it better.

“You’re right, that is tedious.”

Her soft laugh fills the space. “A whole language was created for these phones, you know. Abbreviations of words, so you don’t take an hour sending a single message.”

He watches as she suddenly pops out of her chair. “I’ll write you a guide. But I will warn you—you’ll sound like a mid-2000s teenager in your texts.”

He can’t help but laugh, even if he doesn’t entirely know what that means. If Sam makes fun of him, he doesn’t care. He should be thankful he’s getting a message in the first place.

As she rummages around for a pen, Bucky pulls the small notebook he has tucked into his back pocket. “You can write it in here.”

She pauses at that before gently taking the book. He’s not sure what caused the shift, maybe she just wasn’t expecting him to have one. Bucky himself isn’t even really sure why he’s been carrying it around. Steve had given it to him, said he used to write down things people recommended: music, movies, things he missed while in the ice. But he hasn’t really looked through it. Hasn’t wanted to learn about the years he missed. He’s not going back, anyway.

She sits down again, beginning to write in the book. He can tell she’s hesitant to ask something, which is strange, given how she tends to just say whatever pops into her head. It doesn’t last long though, her soft voice breaks through the scribbling sound of the pen.

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but… can I ask what happened to Steve?”

Oh.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to figure out how to answer that. It’s not exactly simple, and not something they’re sharing with others. She’d mentioned wanting to update the photo on the wall, add where he and Steve are in life currently. He could lie. But honestly, he really doesn’t want to lie to her.

“He passed away. After he won the fight and brought everyone back.”

She seems to have expected that answer. She finally looks up from her writing. “I’m sorry, Bucky.”

He doesn’t like seeing her sad, it feels like he just committed a crime, making someone so kind and gentle feel anything other than happy. She slides the book over to him as she stands, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. Another thing he’s noticed she does. Which, for some reason, he doesn’t mind.

He watches as she uses the counter to push herself up, barely reaching a container kept on the top shelf of the cabinet. She piles the cookies inside, then turns back to him—and he notices her pause. He’s smiling way more than he probably should be, and she definitely noticed.

“They’re chocolate chip. I like to keep things classic. Mostly because I’m not the best baker in the world. If you ever want a mean lasagna, though, I’m your girl.”

He can’t help the sound of amusement that escapes.

“Thanks for the cookies and for helping an old man navigate modern technology,” he says with a smile. Her soft laughter trails after him as they walk toward the front door. God, that laugh. He wishes he were funnier, just to hear it one more time.

“I wouldn’t call that modern. I’m happy to help, as long as it means I can get you to carry more things for me.”

He would. But instead of saying that, he flashes one more smile before bidding her goodnight.

Back in his apartment, he pauses, listening to the music coming from hers again. His space feels so empty. Cold.

Sighing, he sinks onto the couch, pulling out the notebook and phone, deciding to try sending a text to Sam. As he scrolls through his contacts, something catches his eye. He smiles, noticing her name.

[jaxthedouchebag]

”yes. it was.” jax X reader thingy. (part1)

heads up: she/her pronouns will be used for the reader. don’t be expecting any sexual content in this thingy, there won’t be. and uh a few headcanons i think.

you had just recently entered the circus, and you didn’t know who to really trust, as it had only been about 3 days of being there. pomni was nice, kinger was a goofball, but he seems ok, ragatha is pretty nice and one of the only people who you are able to really talk to, although you haven’t gotten the chance yet, she has offered to talk if you need it though. Jax is uhm.. something else.. zooble is chill, and gangle is well.. she’s nice. you were still trying to make do with the things you had, trying to get used to your surroundings, and the fact you’re probably never gonna leave.

you had just finished an adventure and were crazy tired, so you walked that dreaded distance to the stage area all the way to the halls, where you were met with that goofy picture of yourself on that door of yours. you opened the door and plopped onto your bed, just kinda resting your eyes for a bit. but before you could get up and close the door, a head peaked into your room. “whatcha doing?” it was Jax. of course. just what you needed to make your day worse. “like you should care..” you mumbled, your face shoved into the blankets. Jax would step into your room and lean against the doorframe. “nice room.” he scoffed. “can you just.. leave already?? I’m tired as s#$*, and I really don’t feel like talking to anyone right now. ESPECIALLY you.” jax raised an eyebrow as his eyes scanned around the room some more. “jax.” you said in a very serious tone. “jeez okay! don’t need to be so rude about it!” he said as he put his hand on his chest, like he was hurt by what you said. “cya *insert dumb name that matches your avatar*” he closed the door. you crawled under the blankets and eventually fell asleep.

“HELLO? ARE YOU AWAKE, *name*?” a loud but muffled voice yelled right outside your door. you stretched and sat up, rubbing your eyes. “Caine, why are you waking me up? the sun hasn’t even come up yet..” Caine suddenly appeared in thin air in your room. “because TODAY is another day, another day to adventure!” you squinted your eyes at what he was wearing. “Caine.. why are you wearing a detective suit..” Caine would snap his fingers and you would be teleported to the main room in the circus, along with everyone else. “For today’s adventure, you all will be playing a game of MURDER MYSTERY! That’s right! one of you will be chosen to be the murderer and have to kill EVERYONE ELSE HERE! while another person is the DETECTIVE! and has to try to take out the murderer before they get a victory!” everyone sat and stared at Caine, as jax had a very smug look on his face. as usual. zooble would notice and glare at him. “this was your idea, wasn’t it?..” You muttered. “maybe, maybe not! I mean.. what do YOU think?” he said as he leaned in close to you. for some reason, you felt your face getting red, but he didn’t do anything flirty or anything… you felt ridiculous at the fact and proceeded to swat him away, then looked away until the flush left your face. “well, jax, as far as I know, yes. it was.” you grumbled. “ALRIGHT! WHO’S READY? COUNT YOUR EYES AND CLOSE TO TEN, CAUSE HERE WE GO!”

(part 2 very soon!!)

[stellargh0ul]

you totally don’t have to if you don’t want to but i would love to see some t4t mlm perpetua giving the reader period comfort!! my pcos has been kicking me while im down the last few days

hope you're feeling better, dove!

-

“how are you doing, lamb?” Perpetua asks as he steps back into the arm, his arms laden with the items you’d sent him to get. you groan out in response, turning over in bed to face him with some difficulty—it’s hard to move your body the way you want right now, pain wracking your midsection in waves every few moments.

“hopefully I can help change that.”

he sits on the bed next to you, dumping the items that he’d brought with him. your ibuprofen 800mg, a chocolate bar, a heating pad, and some of the things you needed to distract yourself: your switch, your laptop, and the book you’d been reading.

you go for the ibuprofen first, washing it down with the water bottle already at your bedside as he watches with worried eyes. once you’ve taken your pain medicine, you dive into the chocolate bar next, snapping off large pieces to shove into your mouth and try to dull the knife-like sensations running through you.

“is there anything else I can do for you?”

he looks concerned, reaching out to cup your cheek. you lean into his palm, feeling the cool leather of his gloves against your skin like a sweet balm. it doesn’t actually take your pain away, but its nice to know that he cares.

“stay with me?”

you reach out to grab onto the edge of his shirt, holding it tightly in one balled fist. he chuckles low in his throat, shifting on the bed. Perpetua scoots up against the headboard, opening his arms in invitation, and you roll into his lap. bringing all the blankets with you, you make yourself comfortable.

“as if you could keep me away,” he tells you, stroking through your hair absently. “if my presence can make this more bearable for you, i’ll happily cancel the rest of my plans today.”

“you don’t have to do that. just… just a little while.”

you hate your period—it’s a reminder of your anatomy and just how thoroughly nature had decided to fuck you over by making you be born with the parts you were. it’s made even worse by your PCOS, the pain common but overwhelming every time.

Perpetua leans down to press his lips to the top of your head in a kiss as he uses one foot to nudge your laptop closer to you.

“i’ll stay as long as you like,” he promises. “why don't you pick out a movie for us to watch for a while?”

“okay…”

you don’t move. you want to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, his arms warm around you and comforting. there’s only so much you can do for your pain, only so much you can do to make yourself comfortable when you get flare-ups like this, but it helps so much to have someone to share the time with.

“I love you,” you murmur, and he kisses your head again.

“I love you too, little one,” Perpetua says, and for a moment you feel better.

[folliesofmiceandmen]

"i am happy. too stupid to be anything else." it's the shield, the self defense curled around him like shitty armor, that pointed way that he always comes back to being too stupid to properly function. he's made it into his personality, molded himself into the happy little village idiot that's great at making friends. sure, he's not actually as stupid as he's sure many people believe he is, but he's good at playing the part, and for his part, he's not nearly as smart as most of the people around him, either. he never got a fancy education beyond what was actually required. he's great with numbers but only when cards are involved, and he's good at reading people, but he has to be to be a wizard blackjack dealer.

still, the statement lingers for a minute before he shrugs and laughs, that kind of cheery laugh meant to drive away the harsh words and dark parts of himself that sometimes infect the space he's meant to be filling with light. "plus, i've been getting laid recently. at the very least, i got that goin' for me." and he shrugs, brushing it off without much added thought or context. feels weird to discuss fuck buddies with your ex, even if he knows that angel would probably be happy for him. because angel is an angel. the kind that still shows up here when she doesn't have to.

"would be nice, though. to get rid of the headaches. they're getting worse." it's casual, the way he mentions it, but he doesn't want her to worry, so he adds, as a bit of an afterthought, "nothing unmanageable, the babe at the motel has the really good aspirin when they get really bad." he tries for a smile again, another one of those bright things to fill the room and drives out the bad feelings. or at least attempts to, before he shrugs a little too loosely at the question posed to him.

"oh, ya know? around. here, mostly. i think i slept for, like, three days straight and then when i woke up, crazy shit was going on and then i needed to go find some of those shiny rocks i could trade for food before i could go get the food and then that took a while because my usual spot for them was all picked over and then..." the story is meandering in a way that darcy realizes probably sounds insane, but only stops when he huffs out another one of those laughs. "anyway, it's all good. i got food. and now my phone is charged."

he's thought about it.

well, angel thinks, that's better than she could have hoped for ; at very least, he doesn't seem upset that she's asked. ( to be fair, up until fifteen minutes ago, angel had lowkey been convinced there wasn't anything she could do to truly upset him ― something she tried not to take advantage of ― but then she had to go and breathe while he was in the middle of his fucking berry meditations or whatever and blew that notion right out of the water. ) and look, she knows it's not the easiest thing to hear from anybody, that they think you need to seek professional help. she always tries to be gentle about it. it's just, well ― she fucking worries about him sometimes, okay?

❝ that's good, darcy, ❞ she says, because in her book, the little victories have always been worth celebrating, no matter how small. and then, ❝ you know, if you ever need any help ... ❞ angel trails off. there's no need to finish. he knows that he can still come to her if he ever needs anything, she's made that clear. and maybe that's a bad decision on her part, but she's always been a bleeding heart, and breaking his was bad enough. ❝ if nothing else, maybe a doctor can help con tu cabeza, i mean with your headaches. ❞ she doesn't mention that they're because of the berries, mostly because she didn't come here to pick an argument with him. it's not her goal to put him on the defensive right now.

for someone typically so confident, angel deflates a little when he directly points out her attempt to dance around an awkward subject. of course he knows. she's been seeing perry for a while now and it's not like she's made any effort to keep it a secret. they both work at hell's gate, they're both fucking shamrocks. she's being stupid if she thinks she's keeping anything from him. ❝ i'm sorry, i didn't mean to be weird about it. ❞ she takes a step forward, watching with a brow raised in curiosity as he pulls out some sort of gadget to brew his tea. why did it have a handle like that? ❝ and, um ... gracias. you know i want you to be happy too, right? ❞

there's a flicker of something in her gaze at the mention of ❛ ghost archie ❜ ― and really, really, she's so glad that he's at least thinking about help ― but she diverts her focus to the rest of his statement. ❝ what do you mean you haven't been around to check? where have you been? ❞ wandering out in the woods again? tripping balls half-naked in a ditch somewhere?

[the---hermit]

Lectures in which the professor only reads should be banned. It is fucking useless. I can read it on my own, not waste time and money on my commutr and actually be productive, instead of wasting over half of my day to hear someone read stuff i cannot focus on because i simply cannot stay focused on two hours straight of someone reading out loud in a low voice.

[ganondoodle]

i did say i wouldnt post any of those negative 'whatever is wrong with me' kinda of thigns bc i know how annoying they get and its only gonna hurt me more in the long run, didnt i :C

[radioisntdead]

I have the worst luck with nail salons dear grace, what I wanted vs what I got

[edensgaia]

Tbh my feelings on the sunkissed breakup would be very different if the first instance of a betrayal/doing things behind each others back/not taking each other seriously started with the whole giving Bacon hearts thingy, but it didn't, the trust hasn't been totally there for a longer time than that

[queer-omens-in-the-archives]

Can we have a second Tuesday this week because we spent most of this one basically unable to talk or text (barely capable of making any words) or do any hobbies (combination of: information/processing overload & wording incapability) and I want a refund.