#Why does my brain do this HOW DOES MY BRAIN DO THIS

[helaintoloki]

Back to You

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mild language, pining, fluff

notes: my bucky and yelena brain rot is off the charts which is how this came about

summary: Yelena’s interest in y/n forces Bucky to confront his feelings for her as the Thunderbolts take refuge in her home

“I can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Well, this is definitely more interesting than whatever I had planned today,” you respond jokingly as you finish stitching closed the gash on Bucky’s pectoral. “I will say, if I knew I’d be having company I probably would have tidied up a bit around here.”

Both yours and Bucky’s gazes turn to the group of beaten down misfits that occupy your living room at the mention of company. The amount of people taking refuge in your home made it appear almost comically small, but you weren’t exactly new to having to take care of super heroes- or in this case antiheroes- on a whim like this.

Before Thanos and the Blip, you had been a good friend of Steve’s. As his neighbor across the hall who also happened to be a nurse, he tended to treat your apartment like his own personal health clinic after a particularly grueling day of protecting the city. You welcomed him in without question of course, and after some time he had begun bringing friends in need of patch jobs with him. This was how you met Sam and Natasha, and eventually Bucky. You were enthralled by the turmoil swimming in his eyes and his reserved nature, and your gentleness and willingness to help a total stranger like him with no reservation had stuck with Bucky forever.

You lost touch with them all after the Sokovia Accords debacle and being turned into dust for five years, but once the work of the infinity stones had been reversed and you were able to attempt a life at normalcy, Bucky and Sam had returned right back to your doorstep.

In the years that passed, you and Bucky had been able to form a close friendship. It didn’t happen without growing pains throughout the process of course, and it took time for the super soldier to open himself up to you so intimately, but you’d been able to reach a point where Bucky could come to you for anything and vice versa. So when he’d called five minutes before his arrival asking to seek shelter in your modest home, you immediately agreed without question.

“Alright, you’re good to go,” you inform him after smoothing out the bandage on his chest. Looking out to the rest of the group, you hold up your first aid kit and ask, “Anyone else need some TLC?”

You’re met with silence to which Bucky offers you a comforting pat on the shoulder before hopping off of your counter. The group looks more exhausted and defeated than anything, and he convinces you they’ll probably be fine.

“Well, in the meantime, would anyone like breakfast? I think I have some pancake mix around here somewhere,” you murmur absently, and this gets some heads to finally turn.

“Pancakes… would be nice,” Yelena offers with pursed lips and a shrug, trying to be inconspicuous as she obviously snoops through your things.

“Do you have eggs?” John voices tiredly. “I could really go for some scrambled eggs.”

“Eggs and pancakes… anything else?”

“I cannot have eggs without bacon,” Alexei notes thoughtfully only for Bucky to roll his eyes.

“You don’t have to cook all of that,” he tries to assure you only for you to shake your head in response.

“It’s really no problem, I’m just glad I went grocery shopping yesterday.”

You give Bucky a reassuring smile before disappearing into the kitchen, allowing him the chance to finally walk over and snatch the frame Yelena had been scrutinizing behind your back from her grasp.

“What are you doing?” He retorts in annoyance before setting it back down on the shelf. “We’re guests here, you can’t just touch all of her stuff.”

“She has a photo of my sister,” the blonde rebuffs defensively, “I have a right to touch it. Why does she have it?”

“Before she was my friend, she was Steve’s friend. He introduced her to Natasha, and they became friends too. Good friends.”

“Hmm,” she replies thoughtfully, finally easing up a bit as she takes in the information. “If Natasha considered her a friend, then I will too.”

“Yeah, I think she’s good on friends right now,” Bucky scoffs. Yelena raises a brow at his annoyance before a coy smile begins to form on her lips.

“Are you threatened by me, Barnes?” She prompts with a laugh, only doubling down when she notices the aggravated tick of his jaw. “Because it’s okay if you are, I understand. I mean, she is a beautiful woman, and I can see how much you love her-“

“Hold on a minute, what are you talking about?”

“Surely you cannot be this stupid,” Yelena affirms with a teasing smile that soon falls at Bucky’s flustered demeanor. “Or maybe you are.”

“I don’t love y/n,” Bucky says defensively, voice hushed to avoid any prying ears from listening to their conversation. “She’s just a good friend.”

“Well, if she’s just a good friend then you won’t mind if I go talk to her and tell her how much I love what she’s done with this place,” Yelena states plainly with a mischievous smile as she makes her way towards the kitchen only to be stopped by Bucky grabbing onto her arm.

“Don’t,” he warns with a scowl. From his spot on the couch, Alexei laughs.

“You are smart to stop her, Barnes,” he notes proudly, “my Yelena is quite the lady killer.”

“What’s the harm, Barnes? You obviously do not want to date this beautiful woman who has opened her home to us, so why can’t I?”

“If I admit I love her will you stop?” Bucky begs despite the clear aggravation in his tone. With her hands raised in surrender and lips pulled into a small frown, Yelena suspends her march towards the kitchen once Bucky finally relinquishes his hold on her arm. “Thank you.”

“Life is short, James. Do not let her sit and wait for you forever.”

Bucky lets out a long exhale through his nose at her words, and despite how much she annoys him, he knows she’s right. Bucky loves you and has always held a deep sense of admiration for the selfless woman who had taken him and Steve in without question despite the fact that it would get her into trouble with the government. You were one of the first to show him genuine kindness after spending years under Hydra’s thumb, and he’d never be able to forget that. You are his light in darkness, his saving grace, his confidant, and that’s why he’s so hesitant to fully bring you into his world by asking you to be his partner. Being friends keeps you at an arm’s length from the dangers of his life, but being the one he comes home to after a high stakes mission puts you in a whole new light to his enemies, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to put you through that just yet.

“Breakfast is on the table!” You call out from the kitchen, and Bucky watches with a wry grin as every person in the living room moves their aching bodies hastily into the dining room to get a chance at scoring some of your pancakes. You meet him shortly after and present him his own plate of pancakes, eggs and bacon to enjoy in peace away from the rest.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind so I figured you’d want to eat out here,” you explain with a careful smile before joining him on the couch. “You gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know if these guys are up for this,” he admits almost dejectedly, casting a glance towards the dining room where the Thunderbolts sit loudly bickering over the syrup bottle.

“Hey, as long as they have you there with them, I think they’ll be okay,” you comfort reassuringly, reaching forward to give his arm a tender squeeze.

“I really doubt that, but thanks,” Bucky responds with a weak chuckle, “you keep me sane.”

“It’s my speciality.”

A comfortable silence washes over you then as you meet each other’s tender gazes and enjoy the rare moment of peace shared between you both. Bucky longs to just pull you into his arms and hold you, but he resists and instead returns to enjoying his breakfast.

“We’ll be out of your hair as soon as they’re done eating,” Bucky reassures you only for you to give him an indifferent shrug.

“That’s fine, but can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you ever going to kiss me?” You prompt with an innocent smile, catching poor Bucky off guard as he momentarily chokes on his pancakes.

“What?” He splutters, fist thumping on his chest to help the food go down.

“I mean, maybe I’m reading it all wrong, but I feel like sometimes you look at me like you want to kiss me,” you explain simply, “and I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“That obvious, huh?” He sighs with a bashful smile before setting his plate down on the coffee table.

“Yeah, well, that and also Yelena might have told me something on her way to the dining room,” you offer with an apologetic laugh.

“Oh, god, what did she say?”

“Something along the lines of if you never man up and decide to tell me how you feel that I should give her a call.”

“She’s a pain in my ass,” he grumbles irately, but his tone softens as he looks to you in remorse and continues, “but she’s right. You deserve to know how I feel about you.”

Smiling, you move closer to the super soldier so that you can curl into his side and rest your head upon his chest. His arms immediately come to wrap around your figure as he kisses the crown of your head, prompting you to let out a content sigh.

“We can figure out all the details when you get back from saving the world,” you assure him, “but just know that I love you, and I’ll be here waiting for you to come home.”

“Home,” Bucky sighs wistfully, already mourning your time together as he thinks about having to leave you behind. “I can promise you this- nothing is going to stop me from coming back to you.”

You look up to meet his tender gaze and are pleasantly surprised when he leans down to press a careful kiss to your lips. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you savor the moment you’ve been longing for ever since you met Bucky, and by the way he kisses you as if you are the air he needs to breathe, you think it’s safe to assume he feels the same.

His heart is yours, and as you tenderly embrace from the comfort of your couch, you can rest assured that to Bucky, home is where you are.

[bratbarzal]

you said i could send multiple requests and you wouldn’t block me

could you do roommate (or neighbour) nico with ³⁾ “i’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything i need to know about how your date went.”

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

“i’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything i need to know about how your date went.” with neighbour!nico!!!!! bc of course neighbour nico joins your boozy galentines, wears pink fluffy cowboy hats and sings horrific karaoke duets with you. why wouldn't he? not to toot my own horn (again) but beep beep this is a dream that I have had since lunch and I am not giving up on it now.

“I’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything I need to know about how your date went.”

You're locking up your apartment when Nico emerges from the elevator down the hall, shoulders slumped and face downcast as he trudges over to his door.

You'd seen him when you got home from work, earlier - dressed in a dinner jacket, hair all styled, shirt tucked neat - and he had told you he had a date. On Valentines Day.

And yeah, your heart had pretty much plummeted to the very core of the earth, but at the very least, you got to see him looking so good - a vision to store in your memory bank for a rainy day, when you're thinking too hard about how close he is, just across the hall, but so far away, only being your neighbour, and all.

And that was only an hour ago. Just enough time to get ready, yourself. Hair curled all nice, makeup done - the sexiest outfit you could possibly throw together, because it's girls night, and you deserve to feel your best.

A good date doesn't last an hour. Doesn't end up with a guy slumping home, hair all mussed from running his hands through it, jacket slung over his arm and his heart crushed into pieces.

"Got stood up," he huffs, reaching into his pocket for his keys, "Said she didn't realise I was a hockey player, and didn't think I had the brain cells to hold a serious, thoughtful conversation for a few hours."

"Ouch," you frown, feeling anger more than pity - because, wow, what a bitch!

"You look nice, though," he throws out the compliment almost as an aside, but you can tell by the way his eyes linger that he means it - fixated on the spot where your skirt ends and meets bare thigh. You're probably gonna freeze, but you're going to get some great pictures for your Hinge profile, so does it really matter? "Didn't realise you had plans."

"Going out with the girls," you tell him, "Galentines, 'cause we're all single this year."

He nods, his gaze trailing back up your body until your eyes meet, torturously slow, only enhanced by the darkened colour of his irises. "Have a good night."

"You should come," you tell him without thinking better of it - hypnotised by the low, sexy tone of his voice. It goes straight through you - almost takes control of you like a puppet on a string.

"I'm not a gal," he frowns, although he makes no move to go into his apartment.

"You're single, though," you shrug, "I don't think they'll be too fussy on the criteria once we get a few drinks in."

"Are you sure your friends won't mind?" he asks, eyebrow wiggling and head tilting in the adorable way it so often does.

You press your lips together as if you're rethinking it, casting your eyes slowly down his figure - broad shoulders, big arms practically bulging through his shirt, slacks clinging to his thick thighs for dear life. Your friends will have the time of their lives with this.

"Considering a night out only won the vote for what to do by fine margins, I think they'll be okay with it." You smile, knowingly, nodding toward the elevator, "C'mon, we don't want to be late."

"I don't get what that means, what came second?"

"Magic Mike." You smirk as you walk backwards, reaching to press the button and laughing when his jaw drops. "You take your shirt off later and we'll be golden."

The poor guy has no idea what he's in for.

--

Your girlfriends don't mind when you and Nico meet them at the bar, not once you've introduced him - his name not ringing a bell until you mention he's from the apartment next door, and you see the flash of recognition wash through them almost like cascading dominoes, knocking each other over one by one.

They don't know him as Nico, he's much more fondly referred to in your group chat as sexy neighbour, after all.

You've only been telling them about him for the past 18 months you've lived across the hall - regaling them with stories of bulging muscles carrying grocery bags for you, compression shirts sticking to him when he comes back from the gym, and the one time the fire alarm went off in summer, and he hadn't thought to put a shirt on when you met out the back of the building.

Yeah, sexy neighbour is pretty much a celebrity in your friend group.

They welcome him with open arms, and the night evolves, as they so often do in your friend group, in highly chaotic fashion.

It starts with a round of shots, because of course it does. The bar is rowdy, the music loud, and those tiny little glasses of you-don't-even-want-to-know-what loosen lips all around. Nico picks up on the dynamic of your group pretty quickly, shifting the shyness he had walked into the establishment with and charming them all with that same dimpled smile he got you hooked on the day you met.

Shots turn into drinking games - chugging cocktails, taking on dares, spilling secrets, and you learn so much about Nico that you would never have known otherwise, so much that you would never have had the guts to ask.

Drinking turns to dancing, which starts in a crowd on the floor, bodies all smushed together, and ends up on tables, Nico by your side the whole time, hooking an arm around your waist so that you don't fall.

You end up bar-hopping to an extent, the second place you go being a little quieter, and you're all way too drunk to stay, so you end up at the karaoke joint further down the street.

Your friends all pick the girls night classics, Man I Feel Like A Woman, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and there's even a full dance intermission for three of your friends to perform Single Ladies.

You all end up adorning fluffy pink cowgirl hats from god knows where, fluffy feather boas slung from your shoulders, and Nico is suddenly grabbing your hand, dragging you on stage, and handing you a mic before you're fully aware what's going on.

But by then you're too drunk to care, belting What Makes You Beautiful at the top of your lungs with him, still conscious enough to blush when he directs the lyrics towards you - as out of key and awful as they may sound.

And you don't know what happens between that and ending up at the club, bass thumping in your ears, blood pumping, skin sweating, and your back is pressed against his chest. You can still see flashes of feathers in your peripheral, your friends close by, but you can't really focus on anything else.

Anything other than the heat of Mr Sexy Neighbour, himself, flush against you, one of his hands holding yours to keep you steady, the other in the dip of your waist, and his breath warm on your bare neck. You lean into him more than you probably should - more than the sober you of tomorrow will be comfortable with, when you're bumping into him again and unable to look into those pretty eyes - and he leans in right back, nose at the junction where your jaw and ear meets, lips flush against your skin, where you hear him mutter, "I should get you home."

You nod, because what are you supposed to do, speak? With him looking at you like that?

Fat chance of that happening.

And he takes your hand in a firm, clammy grip, doing the rounds between those friends that still remain - the ones he hasn't had a chance to personally see off into a cab - telling them to text him if they need help getting home, and to text you when they eventually make it there.

He guides you practically the whole way home - helps bundle you into the back of a cab, buckling you in for safety and sitting in the middle, where you can lean on him with a heavy head, and your hand in his the whole way.

He throws an arm around you to help you stumble your way through the lobby of your apartment building, holding you up in the elevator and pressing the button for your shared floor. And then he props you up beside your front door, taking your keys from your purse and unlocking the door for you as you watch him with a tired but focused gaze.

God, you want him.

Is the world really so cruel that he would never want you back?

When he finally tries the right key and pushes the door open, he looks over at you, a heated gaze assessing if you're fit enough to send in on your own, and you imagine it's the way you blink slowly at him that tells him you're not.

You were just admiring him, really - your buzz wearing off, and the stumbles added for dramatic effect so that he wouldn't stop touching you - but he doesn't need to know that.

He makes a come here motion with grabby hands, and you practically launch yourself back into his arms, him accepting you with an amused smile as he walks you into your apartment, throwing your purse onto your counter and leaving your keys on the side.

You tug a little to steer him down the hall - in the direction of your bedroom, because if he's gonna play white knight, he may as well go the whole way.

"I had fun tonight," you tell him once he's dropped you off onto the safety of your bed, the bouncing motion only making you slightly dizzy again as you watch him stand before you, hands on his hips. "I don't want to say I'm glad you got stood up, but-,"

"I had fun, too." He tells you, dark eyes landing straight on yours as he slowly lowers, dropping to his knees in front of you and reaching for your leg. He starts unzipping your boots for you, and you watch him with what you can only assume are hearts in your eyes, a slow, dreamy sigh wracking through you.

"Wish I got to see you with your shirt off."

He laughs, in a way that makes his eyes crinkle in the corners and his shoulders shake - genuine amusement flooding through him as he looks back up at you, the angle straight up sinful and sobering.

He holds your other leg behind the knee, large hand warm against your bare skin, and slides your other boot teasingly slow - your gazes locked for the whole manoeuvre - his hand following down your leg until he discards both boots to the side.

He stays down there, kneeling in front of you, staring up at you with the prettiest eyes you've ever seen - a flush to his cheeks and a million thoughts racing through his brain.

You lean forward before you can think, and he meets you half-way in a kiss that's slow - sensual and pressured, firm and assuring - the taste of tequila on his tongue as it swipes against yours, which no doubt tastes the same.

He's the first to pull back, but it isn't all the way - just until your lips smack apart, his nose still pressed to yours as he avoids your chasing with a big grin.

"You're drunk."

"Don't care, wanna kiss you." You just about manage to catch him before he pulls back again.

"Not like this."

And then the touch of him is gone, the bump of his nose and the press of his forehead to yours disappearing in a way that makes you pout.

The way he kisses you again is quick - too quick to react, really - before he retreats again.

"You know where to knock when you're sober."

You let out a groan as you watch him leave, unashamedly watching his ass as he goes, eyes still lingering when he stops at your door and catches you with a knowing smirk.

"Happy Valentines Day, sexy neighbour."

[sillysiluriforme]

Planes pass by overhead in a milky tea green sky direction Charle de gaul airport.

She hasn’t been grounded for this long in 4 years now, not since the hospital. She tries to think about Zoey and her grubby little hands. The way she looks up at her. Her babbling.

It’s all futile, her third sex-on-the beach has rendered her brain mushy and uncooperative. She used to hate being drunk. She still does, so it’s particularly perplexing she finds herself inebriated so often.

A pair of perfect manicured fingernails grazes her shoulder.

“Audreeeeeey…” comes Emilie’s pitch perfect practiced whine.

“I’m talking to you !” She ends her sentence on a higher note, indicating playfulness. Her bronze skin, dusted with crystals of pool droplets, sparkles in the light of the terrace- curtsy of her fresh perfect tan.

She furrows her brows through Audrey’s sunglasses. The green of her eyes is exacerbated, almost comical. Like the warning label on a bottle of helium.

“Whaddidyasay ?” The slurred words slither out of her mouth like drool. Why do people even drink ?

She puffs up her cheek and readjusts her hold on the sleeping toddler in her arms clover- Chloe. Chloe, after her mother in law- not that she’d ever met her- Some gold digging cover girl with a strong stomach and very little shame, from what she gathered.

Maybe that’s what her Andre wants for her at the end of the day. A well-to-do husband, some kids, a big house and as little shame as possible… he’s boring like that.

“ Here I was getting sentimental and you just ignore me, how could you be so cruel ?”

Chloe doesn’t stir in her arms, somehow, despite the brat normally sleeping as sleep as light as a feather. The mass of perfect honey colored curls go up and down as she photogenically lays her restful little head on Emilie’s chest. It’s like she’s doing it on purpose.

Audrey, working at half the speed she usually would, languidly blinks at her. No point in playing her verbal games. Emilie always wins.

She sighs with all the gusto of a mistress of the silver screen and repeats herself.

“I was saying I used to wish I had met you younger.”

“…” the congealed remains of her mostly-fruit-juice-cocktails have seeped into the crevices of her synapses, the coughing machine chugs along. “Why ?” She says flatly, without too much interest.

“I didn’t know you actually had curly hair till the day we all moved out, did I ever tell you that ?”

Audrey goes to push her sunglasses up her forehead almost pokes herself in the eye.

“What did you think I was doing when I woke up earlier than you everyday?”

The perfect hand lurches like a snake to grasp her arm, like otherwise she’d run off and miss hearing her out. “You’re missing the point.” Audrey’s eyes roll in their sockets from the snake to the grass-green eyes.

“You wouldn’t let me in, ever, not of your own will.” Her mouth curves down and her brows curve up. “It… hurt me.” Her voice wobbles in a controlled manner not unlike a prop laminated metal sheet. “My first friend- my best friend, trapping me at arm’s length… so during lectures I’d try to imagine you,”

“And me…” and there’s something she manages to catch for an instant. Something soft and fidgety held in her gaze. “As schoolgirls- sometimes even younger, already friends, shared secrets and make believe memories.”

And with a sharp snap it’s gone, cold and still forever. Emilie’s gaze rises past Audrey, as it often does when she goes on a tangent. Her fingers tangle in the little girl’s curls.

“I missed you, you know. It’s not the same without you here. Im so happy you’re home now.” Glossy pink lips plucker into a heart shaped smile. The perfect snake coils through perfect yellow swirls to unearth Chloe’s sun kissed forehead before planting her lips on the unmarked surface. The glittering pink stain stands alone like a flagpole in no man’s land.

Audrey’s foot catches the leg of her deckchair and narrowly misses eating shit on the sharp white tiles when she stands up. Emilie still reaches out like it’d help in any way.

“I want another glass.”

[burgerrat]

Harley Sawyer x Reader

NOTE: reader is gender-neutral. Scenarios are often sporiadic.

( Because there's little to none and it upsets me greatly how out of character people write him as or label him as yandere, in the few writings there are about him. So I'm going to try my hardest to keep him strictly canon. )

Pre-Experiment 1354.

At first he might come across as grouchy, irritable even.

Then, there is interest. Genuine interest. He wants to study you, see what makes you tick.

Realistically, Harley seems to be quite literally incapable of caring about anyone that isn't himself in a normal way most would expect. His form of feeling 'love', in his mind, is really just a sugarcoated form of saying "I need you alive, you are useful and resourceful to keep."

He does not feel love in the traditional way, that doesn't mean he doesn't care for you. He just does not feel.

His way of showing love is through acts of service, verbal affirmations and gift-giving. He keeps a list of what you like, your interests, and important dates.

Complimenting him or any sort of praise instantly sends dopamine in his brain. Inflating his ego. Automatically in his best mood.

And boy is he smug. He doesn't even attempt to hide it.

He'll keep a facade, perhaps not even tell you about the kind of 'workplace' he's part of at Playtime Co., he needs you to trust him, and you can trust him! He needs you.

Although he uses emotional manipulation, it is not done with malicious intent. He seeks to build a meaningful relation with this person that he wants by his side.

You can sometimes tell he's very... robotic with his behaviour, his gentle voice can only make his charm go so far.

But god does he try, he doesn't even get mad and threaten you for forgetting to take out the sweet pickles in his sandwich! Instead politely reminding you that he dislikes them😁

His perception of having a partner is a very alien concept to him. It feels like focusing on his work for another Bigger Bodies Iniciative experiment, there's that same passion behind to get to know you. He carefully constructs a face to seem normal for you, and studies your behaviour in the back of his mind. Observes you, takes note of what you tell him, etc.

He acts like he's studying a future guinea pig for Playtime Co., honestly. Yet the thought of using you never even crossed his mind.

Physical contact is another thing that feels alien to him, you can feel him stiffen when you hug him, he remains frozen for a few seconds before reciprocating. You can get a small glimpse of his almost-robotic attempt to recreate genuine human emotion. He'd start sputtering incoherently when you'd suddenly give him a peck on the lips.

"No, don't worry, you don't need to ask for my consent, I allow it, you and only you are allowed. I was simply unprepared."

You of course get concerned everytime he freezes or doesn't respond right away, thinking you've crossed boundaries since he noticeably grows tense. But he's always reassured you that he does not mind, he merely gets surprised.

The one time you've managed to aggravate him is by being so insistent on making sure he was consenting because of his initial reactions. He wouldn't audibly admit "Yes I like you holding my hand, hugging me, kissing me." But he WILL angrily tell you something along the lines of "I do cherish your displays of affection. Believe me, you will know if something upsets me."

It's a half-joke half-genuine warning. He's aware of his inability to get along with most people because of his anger.

With you... he's making an attempt to be less volatile. Even at work his shift in behaviour is noticeable when he thinks of you.

He genuinely struggles to grasp the concept of why he'd allow himself to have a loved one at all, having internal fights with himself about the 'pointlessness' of it, realizing the hypocricy of it given his disgust at others for feeling sympathy for his experiments.

He eventually comes to terms that he is allowed to have a loved one because he deserves to be appreciated for his work and how hard it is to share his workspace with people who are objectively inferior and incompetent.

He makes sure to keep this relationship secretive as humanly possible. The last thing he needs is for Leith or anyone at Playtime Co. to discover he has a weakness. He has a loved one too.

Although he doesn't show it, and you need constant reminders from him, that he does enjoy physical contact, he's just kind of like a ragdoll. He allows it but doesn't often reciprocate, and when he tries to- it's often awkward and very automatic like he's trying to copy what you're doing, he prefers to recieve contact rather than giving it. Again, it's another thing that fuels his ego.

He doesn't understand you fully, your compassion, your display of emotion, your sympathy.

And it's what draws him further in, mixed with disgust at how 'lovable' you are. It makes him question himself (not in a moral/self-reflection way, oh no no no, more of a 'why do I like this? This is counterproductive for my work. But I like it.' way) and it makes him question human nature, what it is that draws us to seek closure in such a way towards one another.

He might get vocal about that. And you're going to end up getting a semi-pessimistic philosophy lesson, all because you wanted to cuddle.

Post-Experiment 1354.

Remember his ragdoll-non reciprocative behaviour when you'd initiate physical contact? Suddenly he regrets not having indulged you more often, or asked for more.

Probably laughs at himself over the irony of how he didn't value simple things he had daily access to, and now that has been taken away, and he resents that.

Should you be able to find him in this state, in however way you managed to dig so deep into the foundation to find him, and should you be able to still see him with the same eyes you did before even in the state he's in, discovering what he'd done. Well, you'll make his (metaphorical) jaw drop.

After the shock, there is an uncharacteristic fear. Because of the Prototype, it must know you are here just as well as he does, but it does not know your connection to him, and he must keep it that way.

You refuse to go? He'll go on a long-winded monologue about himself (of course), how stupid one must be to refuse to run away from danger, proudly boasts about his work, it's purpose, long story-short: he fully tears off the mask. Because what he wants is to get you out. He doesn't want you to leave him, but you are useless to him if you are dead.

You want to stay? Even after all of this? With the state that he's in? Being only a brain, lungs and liver inside Vital System Center machines?

He laughs. Starts genuinely pondering your sanity, and survival instincts.

As you approach the large machinery containing his mind, visible through the glass, his laughs grow silent. Waiting.

"Do you think yourself a hero? Coming to rescue the beast?" He'd condescendingly ask you to break the silence, dead-serious and mildly irritated that you'd be that stupid to risk your own survival for him.

"I don't. You deserved it."

Silence. Then, laughter booming through the lab.

"My, my! And here I thought you were always such an understanding golden heart. What happened to the old Y/N?"

You two argue. He's very mad at you for being so stubborn on staying with him even though now you know in full detail of just how evil he is. As if your relationship with him can ever go back to normal like before.

You are within his grasp, in his lab, deep down an abandoned toy factory. He could turn you into his next, newest experiment, he could feed you to Yarnaby, he could dissect you and keep you alive just like himself.

Yet he doesn't.

Something in his evil, metaphorical heart stirs.

You, the only person that he could tolerate. Could get along with. That he felt... something for. Something worth keeping.

"I've missed you."

Make no mistake, he says that with absolute seething spite. He hates the sentence he just uttered from the speakers.

But alas, it is a bitter truth.

Silence

...

He can't feel per-say your arms wrap awkwardly around the giant machinery containing his mind, but he sees it through his cameras, ever so-intently observing you; he heard it, as your clothes' fabric brushed and pressed against the metal.

Another incredulous laughter rasped from the speakers.

Though he can't feel it, it... warms him, in a way, that you still somehow find it possible to 'love', to care.

"I wonder... perhaps, somewhere deep down, we share a kinship of depravity? Or maybe you're just blindly loyal as my dear Yarnaby?" He'd playfully mock.

One thing is for certain though: you intrigue him. He doesn't understand you, your affections towards him, and it makes him want to keep studying you.

His mechanical vessels are a bit trickier to 'cuddle' with, if at all. You're welcome to try, Harley won't stop you, just be careful not to open a wound that'll require stitches.

He does appreciate the effort. And this time, unlike when he was human, he initiates contact first.

His hand reaches for yours, guides you to touch his screen. Although he can't feel it, he tries recreating the sensation in his mind.

You hear him sigh often when he feels content. And/or hum.

He might grumble incoherently in the typical old man fashion and try to pick at you in his typical, eloquent way of speaking, if you try to point out his hypocrisy towards his carelessness for others having loved ones.

[swampgallows]

Transcription:

Wearing a mask was not political, but they made it political, so now wearing a mask is an act of resistance. I don't care how stupid that sounds to you and I'm gonna be very transparent, my goal here is to try to get you to wear a mask. So I need you to take whatever I'm about to say, pick the thing that resonates with you the most, and then have that be what drives you to wear a mask. Trump pulled the U.S. out of the World Health Organization and he instructed the halt of all communications from public health agencies. This includes the CDC, the NIH, the FDA on recalls, so we are even more in the dark than we were before on how bad things are right now. If you've been sick recently, you might know what I'm talking about. Flu A, COVID, Norovirus, all high—high transmission—but now with the halt of communications we are not gonna know what's going on. The CDC already sucked on that—I'll get to that shortly. All across the country, cities have called for and/or enacted bipartisan mask bans. Do you want to know what led to these mask bans? Well, it was anti-genocide protests. They don't want you to be able to hide your face because then you're easier to target. But what is the side effect of this? Going after people who mask to protect their health and the health of those around them. They don't like our calls for a free Palestine. One of these people who called for that was mayor of L.A., Karen Bass, and now that the fires have been raging, of course the city didn't have any stockpile of PPE for all the people who are inhaling ash, and wildfire smoke, and asbestos, and all the other chemicals that are burning with homes in the fires. No, that fell to mutual aid groups, specifically, anti-COVID and clean air groups. In the age of AI under fascist regimes, both Biden but especially Trump, when facial recognition technology can be weaponized against anyone, masking is an act of resistance. And finally, and most importantly, the number one core reason is because COVID still rages on. Wearing a mask is an act of resistance when corporations and billionaire CEOs can lobby the government to shorten COVID isolation periods, and then Biden does so. Since the very beginning of the pandemic when they said, "No, it only affects this group of people", and so we said "Okay, yeah, no, that's not me. We don't have to protect them." They tried to get you to not care, further harming disabled and high risk individuals, and lying to your face in the process because we're all high risk. In 2024 we got to see COVID rip through the Olympic Village. What we did not hear so much about is all of the athletes that didn't make it to the Olympics despite their training all of their lives because they were disabled by COVID. A recent study showed that 1 in 4 U.S. Marines that got COVID met the criteria for Long Covid. Wearing a mask is an act of resistance when COVID cases persist. When you feel sick all the time and everybody is having brain fog and you wonder why you are so tired, when they didn't bother clearly communicating that COVID is airborne, and that it moves like smoke, and that a lot of spread is asymptomatic or pre-symptomatic, meaning you don't feel sick, you don't know you have it, but you're spreading it.

Wearing a mask is an act of resistance when the World Health Organization told us that 10 to 20% of COVID cases result in Long Covid, and that doesn't account for consecutive infections. When that Long Covid can be mild, like the POTS [Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome] that I got from my COVID infection while being a previously healthy individual, or it can be severely debilitating and leave you bedbound. Wearing a mask is an act of resistance when you get sick and they want you back to work and they gut worker protections—in a country that provides no universal healthcare, so you're left either in debt or without options, untreated, in a country that loves its Big Pharma and counts on you getting sick. Wearing a mask is an act of resistance when all of this is in the name of capitalism. They do not care if you get sick. They want you betraying your disabled and immunocompromised community members. They do not care that you want to protest for a free Palestine. They do not care that you want to protect your identity from their AI surveillance. They don't care that the general population is sicker than ever. They want you to ignore it, and they want you to attack the people who still wear masks, like myself. They want you to attack the messenger. They do not want you questioning the premature declaration that the pandemic had ended because then they don't have to atone for this: the wastewater data that shows how prevalent COVID still is in our lives. And when you think about how many COVID cases lead to Long Covid, they don't want you thinking about how they allow for the general population to become disabled, because that would mean that it costs them something to prevent it, that would mean that they owe you. By the way, with Trump's halting of communications we can count on this [wastewater data] to go bye-bye because the CDC can't give us that data anymore. Biden gave that "pandemic is over" premature declaration after the Democrats had an internal memo declaring that they would do so because it earns them political points. It would be cheaper to not provide you with what you need and it would score political points by declaring the pandemic a victory on Biden's part. I don't want this video to be too long even though I could go on, but take whatever I just said that resonates with you and have that be what drives you to wear a mask. It is the easiest way to care for your neighbor and simultaneously give Trump the finger. Because we can't do anything if we're all sick, we can't do anything if we're constantly disabling each other. Lock in. [End of transcription.]

"Mask" here refers to a KN95, KF95, or N95 respirator, not a cloth or surgical mask. A cloth or surgical mask is better than nothing, but they are nowhere near as effective at preventing airborne transmission as a well-fitting respirator. The goal is to form an airtight seal against the face so that all incoming and outgoing air you breathe is filtered through the respirator.

If you need access to free or low-cost masks, testing, air purifiers, and more, get in touch with your local mask bloc. Find one near you at CovidActionMap.org.

Listen to her. Please.

[kendrysaneela]

Let’s go through the events of Severance from Helena’s POV cause it’s wild from Helena’s POV as well as Helly’s. (I’m just going by memory so I may miss a few things or mix up the timeline a bit) I am not moralizing any of Helena’s actions cause this is just from her POV.

You get (presumably) coerced into splitting your consciousness in half by your abusive father to serve the cult you were raised in.

You then get the brain surgery and then you wake up in a hallway. Millchick says it’s cause you need time to adjust. But it’s okay because sometimes this just happens you’re not trying to leave.

Then you keep ending up on the other side of the door! Millchick comforts you and tells you about how grateful he is that you’re here and you’re happy to get any approval at all even if it is from your family’s cult. Maybe you’ll get some approval from your father.

Then you run through the door MORE! You’re pretty sure at this point that Millchick is lying to you when he says your innie is realizing she does want to be there but you run back through anyway.

Your innie asks to resign you reject that resignation (whether that was Helena’s decision or the board’s is not yet something we know)

Then on a later day you wake up in the elevator and your hair is all messed up your wrist is bandaged up and your makeup is running and you feel just such DEEP exhaustion but you don’t know why

Then you show up on another day and you’re in an elevator with a cd from a camcorder in your hands you watch it and your innie is asking to resign again. But this time she’s threatening your fingers??

So you record a video back (whether those were Helena’s words or words placed in front of her to say by the board yet to be seen)

THEN you wake up in an elevator GASPING for air not knowing what’s happening. I guess your innie tried to KlLL you??

The you’re forced to go back so when you do you crouch in the corner of the elevator in panic before you turn into your innie

THEN later you’re getting ready to do a speech about how great Severance is (you certainly haven’t had a good time but the board demands you do this so you’re gonna have to fake it)

Then all of a sudden you wake up being pulled off stage by Cobel you don’t even remember getting on the stage!

And you’re told that your innie took you over and said a bunch of bad stuff about Severance onstage so after your father insults you for a while you then you’re forced to read an embarrassing script in front of the whole country or the whole world talking about how you drank too much and thought it was a funny joke at the time.

THEN. You’re looking over footage of Helly who is your other consciousness and you see her kissing Mark. You see her being more free and more loved than you ever have. So you rewind that kiss over and over again.

You’re told you have to go back down there to the severed floor but it’s okay you can pretend to be Helly you don’t actually have to be her. And you actually are having a good time? You are having fun with them you’re feeling free youre feeling loved for the first time in your life, you’re making jokes about your family’s ridiculous lore it’s awesome. You’re trying to soak in the love they all have for Helly because you’ve never felt love and you don’t understand you can’t steal love because you’ve never had love before. You come clean with one of the innies about your self hatred.

Then one of the innies finds out you’re Helena and tries to DROWN YOU. To get back your other consciousness that lives in your body your innie who they love more than you. You thought they liked you but now you’re realizing that they just liked you cause they thought you were Helly you’re still stuck in a loveless life now. And now as a bonus you’re having an identity crisis about how Helly is essentially who you could’ve been if you weren’t weighed down by your family’s name.

Then you’re thinking “I definitely won’t have to go back now obviously I’ll tell my father” then you’re told that no you are going back down and you’re going back as Helly to the place where all of this happened because “The Board appreciates your sacrifice” and no one thinks the trauma you’ve faced so far is actually a big deal not even your father he won’t even talk to you about it. So you go back down against your will to the innie floor again and let the consciousness take you over again.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Y’know, it’s odd, but your posts are actually helping me crowbar my deep-seated ‘absorbed through cultural osmosis’ weird as fuck perception of weight loss off my brain. It’s actually really helpful to see someone talking about weight loss in a context other than body image or aesthetics, while also discussing the culture around that. I was brought up to see “losing weight” as some transformative thing everyone does and works to make happen and celebrates all the time, to see thin as The Goal of everyone exercising ever, and I never realized how much it affected me until recently, so now I’m making a start on dismantling that. which. Yeah I had no idea how deep that went.

Anyway, your posts are helping me view weight loss as “a normal thing that’s needed sometimes for various reasons” instead of the do it or die necessity that I absorbed growing up. Which in a weird way is helping me be healthier. Because I can do shit for my own reasons now, and feel in control of it, and less like I’m submitting to diet culture by wanting to take walks more. So thank you.

(Sorry for submitting this on-anon, I’ve got. Anxieties.)

I’m glad for you that you’re starting to unpack all this stuff. I think almost all of us have internalized something along the line of losing weight good gaining weight bad but in reality that’s not necessarily the case. Out of people’s specific individual contexts, gaining and losing weight are both just natural responses your body has to certain things.

There’s this idea that we have to look a certain way but at some point you do have to ask yourself why that is. And if you don’t have to look a certain way, then why do you want to eat a certain way? To be healthy? To be happy? Just to keep your body going? To experience new things? Living how you want to live often becomes easier when you learn to divorce what you actually want from what is expected of you and it took me a long time to accept that.

[chryso-poeia]

Intellectual processing and interpreting follows a sequence:

1. You interpret something like a loud noise or something you see, and the way in which you are able to do so (or get to do so) is the function of thoughts. (Prefrontal Cortex & Limbic System)

2. The thought then creates the sensation in the body, which is the same thing as emotion. (Adrenaline, Cortisol, Dopamine, Seratonin, Oxytocin, Endorphins)

3. And then that becomes a feeling when we make it subjective. (Prefrontal Cortex, Insula, Anterior Cingulate Cortex)

-

So you are experiencing a process anchored in the survival instinct. This is why it can be important to audit if you’re actually in danger or not when experiencing anxiety (Crocodile in the room with you… gun to your head.. etc). A traumatized brain will just keep misfiring here if you don’t. This is also why it’s important to understand that it’s the meaning assigned to what you are experiencing that gives it weight or severity. Because what is occuring, is occuring. There’s no way around that. However, it doesn’t have to occur the way you think it does. Again, because emotions are purely sensations in your body, it’s when you give them a distorted, generalized meaning that it becomes problematic. Because your brain naturally deletes what might be positive in the enviournment or in your life. So it’s not that, what is positive isn’t there. You’re just not focusing on it to the extent that you get to experience it.

A layer deeper would argue that everything you experience is only happening within you, due to again, the meaning assigned and due to how you wouldn’t be experiencing the world without your senses and those senses stop at the boundaries of the body. Whereas the meaning you ascribe creates the illusion of extending those sensory sensations out by projection into the future or back into the past, or out into your enviournment. But all you can really know is the present, which is just the present next moment and next moment. Hence also the importance of boundaries with others and yourself. Hence finally also, why it is said that wherever you are, there you are. The present moment collapses the past and the future into it. So lastly, if your survival isn’t directly an issue, your thoughts are just the past repeating itself.

One way to work with this understanding and to reframe it, is the following questions:

1. ”If i’m not directly in danger right now, what becomes irrelevant to focus on right now?”

2. ”What is now left and potentially of use in this reaction from the past repeating itself, in this situation for my greatest good?”.

Summary: ”If i’m not in danger right now, what becomes irrelevant and what does become relevant for me and my greatest good?”

[uhhlifeig]

Smitten - Feb. 17th - word count: 827 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus woke up, his head throbbing.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Lupin,” a woman said, hovering over him. “How are you feeling?”

“Where am I?” Remus asked, trying to sit up in his bed. The lady pushed him back down. 

She must be a nurse, he realized, since she was in a nurse’s uniform.

“You’re in St. Mungo’s. Do you remember?”

Remus frowned. “Remember what?”

“What’s the last thing you remember, Mr. Lupin?” she asked, pulling a notebook out of her pocket. 

Remus racked his brains. “Uh, not much,” he shrugged.

“And what does it feel like?”

He frowned, thinking of a way to phrase the sentence. “It feels like I’m supposed to remember something, but I don’t. Like there’s just… empty space and colors.”

“Interesting,” the nurse hummed. “Well, you must've been hit with something, since you still have practical memory, yes?”

“Yeah,” Remus sighed. “Yeah. I can do stuff, I just don’t remember how I learnt it.”

“And do you recognize faces?” she asked.

“Dunno,” Remus replied dully. “Are there any faces?”

“Oh, sorry. One second, Mr. Lupin.” The nurse left the room, letting the door click shut behind her.

A moment later, she returned, a gorgeous man in tow. 

“Er, hello,” he mumbled, feeling his face heat up under the steel-colored scrutiny of the mystery man. 

The man turned to the nurse. “Are you absolutely quite sure he’s alright, Beatrice? Has the confusion worn off?”

“Yes, Black,” the nurse said. “He’s just missing memories, that’s all.”

‘Black’ opened his mouth to speak, but the nurse cut him off. “No, Sirius,” she sighed. “It’s not permanent. It’ll be back soon.”

Sirius. What an interesting name, Remus thought. He’d heard that somewhere before…

“Good,” Sirius nodded, checking his watch. He cursed. “I have to go, the Curse-Breaking people need me. Sorry, I’ll be back.”

Remus frowned. He wanted to talk to the pretty man. He had such nice hair. Remus wanted to run his hands through the man’s hair. Would it feel nice?

Remus shook the thoughts out of his head. That man was probably off the market, considering the silver band on his finger.

~~~~~

There was a messy-haired man next to his bed, chattering on about his wife and son. 

He showed Remus the pictures from his son’s fifth birthday, and he also reminded Remus of a place called ‘Hogwarts’.

Remus didn’t remember too much, but he did recall a big, moving tree, and three animal-shaped figures trailing after him. When he told the messy-haired man (James, his name was), he grinned.

“You remember that? That’s great, Moony!” he exclaimed. “Do you remember the names? Of the animals, I mean.”

“It was…” Remus trailed off, thinking. “Prongs, Wormtail, and Padfoot, right? And I was Moony?”

“Yeah!” James cheered. “I was Prongs, of course, since, well,” he leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m a deer.”

“Yeah, and… there was a kid called Peter, right? Which was he?”

James chuckled. “Oh, Pete’s Wormtail. He’s a rat.”

Remus tilted his head ponderingly. “So who was Padfoot?”

“Oh, easy. That was Sirius,” James said, smiling.

Remus gaped. “Wait. Sirius? Sirius as in the man who came earlier? That Sirius?”

“Well, he didn’t tell me he’d stop by, but yeah,” James shrugged. “Why?” 

“Merlin, that man is so beautiful,” Remus sighed. “He just has the prettiest eyes, and his hair, and-”

“I’m going to have to stop you right there,” James frowned.

Remus’s eyes widened, head dropping to look at his sheets. “Oh, shit, right. He’s married, or engaged, or something. Sorry, I just-”

But James interrupted again. “No, no, shut it, Moony. I heard way too much of this from Sirius’s side during fourth year, and let me tell you-” he gave a full-body shudder. “I never want to go through you two pining again.”

Remus raised his head hopefully. “We were together?”

“Uh, yeah? Merlin, Remus, did you not see the wedding band on your finger?” James scoffed. “Smartest Marauder my ass.”

Remus elected to ignore the last comment and instead looked at his right hand, where a gold band was wrapped around his ring finger.

“Oh, shit, he’s my husband?” Remus asked, voice rising in pitch with every word.

“Duh.”

~~~~~

Remus sighed contentedly as Sirius curled into his side on their couch. 

“So,” Sirius began. “Prongs told me what happened.”

Remus felt a cold trickle of embarrassment down his back. “What?” he asked cautiously.

“When you were in Mungo’s that time, remember?” Sirius looked innocently up at Remus. “When you forgot that we were married?”

Remus groaned. “Shut it. He did not-”

“Oh, but he did,” Sirius said. “He called it cute how you were acting all smitten about your husband. And then he said that if one of us ever lost our memories again, he wouldn’t be there.”

“Oh, yeah. What did you even say to that poor man in fourth year?”

Sirius grinned. “Well, I’m pretty sure I started off with how good you looked, and then-”

“Dear Merlin.”

[ghouljams]

I'm always so on the fence about whether Simon would be a drug user or not. On the one hand, I can totally see him despising hard drugs because of how it fucked up his dad and his brother for a while, and knowing how easy it would be for him to fall into addiction given his mental state and family history.

On the other hand, I could see him needing something to take him out of his head for a little while. Drugs feel good, they take the edge off of bad days (at least until you crash back down to Earth again) and given Simon's trauma, he really does have bad days. Without better coping mechanisms, I could definitely see him thinking "just a little will be fine".

My question is, how bad is the part where he comes down? Does he feel it was worth those few hours he was out of his head for, or does he feel worse after? Does he crave that feeling of weightlessness where nothing truly matters? I saw you say that Simon isn't like his dad and brother, he can control himself, but is there some internalized hate for addicts? Does he think "I'm not as bad as *them*" while downing more pills just to feel something?

Much to consider! Thank you for bringing up such an interesting point.

Yeah! I can really see it going either way with Ghost, but I think no matter what, at his core there is a very deep hatred for addicts. Deeply internalized, but it's there. And it makes him think that he's above that, that he's too smart to become an addict(not true) and that he can indulge in addictive substances because there's some intrinsic betterness to him(also not true). He's stronger than his father and Tommy, he doesn't give into temptation, he has more willpower, more self-control than them. His father was weak, and that's why he beat up kids. Tommy was weak, and that's why Simon had to step up and be the man of the family.

I think that @niocel had it right in the tags that Morphine was Ghost's first taste of drugs, stolen from Tommy when he was forcing his brother through rehab and used in a "moment of weakness" that Ghost will never admit came from curiosity, of need.

He takes little individually wrapped pills meant to wean addicts off heroin/morphine whine he's deployed. Three times a day, or he starts getting shaky. But that's just his body, his brain knows that he doesn't need the high, that he can just stop. Look, he did stop, he doesn't want the drugs when he can fill that hole in his chest with blood and violence, with sex and alcohol, with cigarettes and those little pre-packaged pills. He isn't an addict. Addicts have some inherent weakness to them, and Ghost isn't weak. He crawled his way out of a grave, no drug is going to drag him back into one.

Which makes the come down hard. Means when he isn't floating anymore his body is heavier, guiltier, weaker. He's not as bad as Tommy, he's better than Tommy. Tommy was escaping reality, Ghost-

Ghost just wants to feel something. He's already so numb to it all, so cut apart from every knife and bullet that's left its mark on him, he's already proven that he can handle anything life throws at him, he's not going to let some pill-

So yeah, just a little is fine. He can do just a little. No one has stopped him, which means it's ok. They know he can handle it.

[gothamite-rambler]

17 again?

Stephanie: Why do you look like you’re seventeen?

Tim: What do you look like, Barbie?

Stephanie: Barbie wishes she were me! Seriously, why do you look seventeen?

Tim: How do I look seventeen?

Stephanie: You have this slight baby face and a kind of skinny body with some muscle tone probably from playing track or baseball to appease your parents and you drink energy drinks, thinking it’ll help you study.

Tim: That- Okay, I took track because I enjoyed it! And My body isn’t built like a seventeen-year-old! Plus, my brain struggles to focus for numerous reasons. I don’t like to dwell on this, but my dad died when I was sixteen... That was six years ago!

Stephanie: That is fair... but like some people I hang out with always ask if you are a teeanger or still going to high school. Are you, like, secretly seventeen or something?

Tim: Steph, you’re a year older than me and in your twenties. If you’re twenty-three, how old would I be?

Stephanie: Twenty-two, obviously.

Tim (raising his voice): Okay, so I’m not seventeen! Why does everyone keep saying that? I can bench three hundred pounds and I dropped out of high school! I'm C.O.O. I'm aware I'm the skinnier Robin by default, but I've passed seventeen many years ago.

Tim kicked the ground in frustration. Stephanie tapped her chin, chuckling.

Stephanie: You’re one of those people who ages slowly until you hit your forties. If you scored Bernard and help run a company, that proves you’re aging. Plus you look good for your age.

Tim: Thanks, that helps… I think.

Stephanie: Bernard, what do you think?

Bernard (who had been quietly sitting on the couch eating sushi): I chalked it up to a good skincare routine. I have yet to be proven wrong.

Stephanie: You are such a kiss-up; I love it!

Tim laughed, covering his face.

Tim: I swear, I take vitamins and work out, but my body ages weirdly.

Dick (walking past): You get used to it. I've been looking twenty-four for a few years now.

Tim (amused by annoyed): That’s still in your twenties! I can’t with you people.

Bernard: That’s why you love us!

[bratbarzal]

Could you please do ⁵⁾ “i couldn’t think of a better night to show everyone how in love with you i am.” with Nico?

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

“i couldn’t think of a better night to show everyone how in love with you i am.” this also goes out to the anon who requested this exact line with meier sister reader bc it's where my brain immediately went when I saw this!!!! BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND!NICO NATION WE UP!!! RISE AND SHINE!!!

*this includes sexual references, but no actual smut.

"Stop watching me like that."

Nico sits at the top of the bed, the bed sheet only just covering his modesty as his legs sprawl out from beneath the covers. He has one arm stretched across the pillow you just vacated, and another scratching slowly at his stomach, where the soft patch of hair on his abdomen disappears under the flimsy strip of cotton.

He looks like sex personified, and he needs to give it a rest.

Laughter rumbles lowly from the depths of his chest, a sly smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes follow you - rushing around the room to retrieve the clothes he had torn from your body maybe an hour ago now. You hop back into your panties, and then your shorts, and it's as you're clipping your bra back on that he asks, "Like what?"

His tone is teasing, familiar, exactly the kind of flirty cadence that had lured you into his bed earlier today, in the first place - passing by a little too close for comfort with a hand on your hip, and lips to your ear, muttering how good your ass looked in your shorts before he planted a quick, light smack to it.

He knows what he's doing.

"Like you could go again," you huff, buttoning at the light, summery shirt you were wearing before as you look up at him.

"Maybe I could," he shrugs, straightening up in a way that makes the sheet slip dangerously low, an action that attracts your gaze like a high powered magnet, stuck on him until you can shake yourself out of it. "Maybe we should."

"No," you rattle your head, trying to claw back any kind of sense or dignity, diverting your attention in search of your sandals. "Not happening. I need to go shower. I smell like a combination of a sex den and you."

"And what's wrong with that?" he chuckles, "You use my stuff in the shower every time you come over, you wear my clothes when you leave, why's today any different?"

"Because we're on vacation with my brother, Nico," you huff, finding where you had kicked them off and they had slid toward his side of the bed. "He catches a whiff of you on me, on today of all days, and he'll throw you overboard the next time we're out on the boat."

"C'mon," he sighs, although that tempting smirk remains, and shuffles his legs over the side of the bed, the sheet slipping, forcing you to spin on your heels to avoid staring down the barrel of what you have no doubt is, once again, a loaded gun.

That man is insatiable.

You hear his laughter from behind you, along with footsteps that fall out of pattern for a brief second, and you're thankful when a large hand places itself on your upper arm to turn you, that he's at least wearing boxers now.

"We can't keep sneaking around forever, it's been long enough, don't you think?"

You feel your eyes flutter shut as he pulls you close, his assertive grip holding you in place with fingers now curved around the back of your waist, and you sigh - a big one, that despite the heaviness of it, does little to quell the anxiety swirling around your chest.

"I thought you wanted to wait until the season was finished," you frown, distinctly remembering how you felt after that conversation back in November - when your situation became a lot less casual, and Nico had officially asked you to be his girlfriend one morning when he had finally run out of other excuses for you not to leave his bed.

"I did," he muses, fingers pressing into your flesh and forcing you forward, until you're flat against him, and once again encompassed by his ever lasting warmth. "But now I'm tired of hiding. Just want to love on you, not just in private or when Timo isn't looking."

His actions mimic his words as his hands start to wander, and his lips press soft, lingering kisses in a trail from your cheek, to your jaw, to your neck.

You melt, as you always do, body feeling like putty that moulds to his touch and sticks to his fingers as he reels you back in.

"We can't hard launch to my brother on Valentines Day, Nico," you mumble, your resolve weakening by the second with every slight ministration, his lips nipping at all the sensitive parts of your neck and his hands seeking out whatever skin he can get to first.

"Why not?" he asks, his voice low just beside your ear - so low that it sends a shiver down your spine, your chest pressing straight to his. "It's technically our anniversary after all."

This whole thing had started last year - in his bye-week - not long after you had moved in with your brother, and had been invited with the two of them and a couple more of their friends for a week-long trip.

What had always been teasing and lingering between you and Nico had swiftly evolved into more - one night of one too many drinks leading you straight to his bed, and one night leading to something frequent and forbidden.

Something changed in the summer - the two of you meeting up a little more back in Switzerland, when you weren't under your older brother's constant supervision, and you weren't worrying about being caught all the time, and then when you all came back to the states, you found yourself in Nico's bed more often than your own.

“I couldn’t think of a better night to show everyone how in love with you I am.”

Your heart thuds in your chest at the revelation, muttered straight into your ear - it taking you a second to get past the vibration of his words down your whole entire body before you register exactly what he said.

And then you lean back, your faces close as you turn to meet his eye - that captivating glimmer shining straight across dark chocolate irises, the smirk from before melting into something softer, more serious, more real.

"You're in love with me?" You ask, watching the smile slowly grow.

"Obviously," he replies, his thumb swiping gentle strokes into your spine, not giving it a chance to tense up or stiffen at the revelation - still moulded perfectly to his touch. "I don't risk my life at the hands of your brother for just anybody."

You smile too, despite the four-tonne block of anxiety that's launching itself your way at the all the possible ways this could go wrong.

Nico loves you.

And Timo's just gonna have to deal with it.

"I'm in love with you too," you tell him, leaning in immediately to press a kiss to his lips, like sealing the sentiment in place, feeling them curve against your own.

"Good," he mutters against you, kissing and kissing until you're too far gone again to do anything about it. "We should fuck again to celebrate, just in case your brother kills me."

You giggle, still not pulling back, letting his feet shuffle towards the end of the bed and guide you the same way.

You'll shower later. Probably with Nico - and the smell of his shampoo in your hair might give the two of you away, but who cares.

He's in love with you.

[wrttenbyhan]

geek gets the girl

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :

popular girl!fem reader x geek/spiderman!han jisung

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :

hey! my requests are officially open! you can ask me anything too!

you were the popular girl of seoul high school. cheerleader, friends with everyone, you had the whole package. han, on the other hand, was a total geek. he always carried a massive pile of educational books and read them during breaks and lunches. and because he was so nerdy, people would always pick on him.

but he had a secret that nobody knew. by day, he was just your regular nerd, but by night, han was no other than seoul's highly praised hero spiderman. he chose not to tell anyone about his secret persona, and to keep anonymous with his iconic mask.

today, you strutted into class with confidence, and your biology teacher paired you up with han to do a written project. upset that you weren't grouped up with your friends, you sat next to han. he smiles at you and waves. sure, he was a nerd. but this nerd was cute. well, anyhow, you needed to focus on your work.

“so,”

han mumbled, clearly nervous as hell to be working with the it girl of the school,

“we should probably start by planning the work before we write anything down.”

you nod, your bangs falling in front of your eyes, before flashing a smile. he smiled softly, glancing up from his notes to look at you. he seemed so nervous, and your presence was only making him more on edge.

“so i was thinking, since our topic’s on the human brain,”

he questioned, flipping through some pages of his notes to find the right one,

“we could start with writing down the different sections of the brain, and then describe what each section does?”

he offers, already writing down a few ideas with his pen. you were already getting quite bored, not being with your friends and all. you try and hold back a yawn, while replying,

“uh, yeah, sure..”

he looks up at you for a moment, noticing the lack of enthusiasm you had for the topic, and he frowns for a moment. why were you so dismissive? he tried not to let it bother him, and goes back to the task at hand instead.

“should we split the work in half? i’ll do half of the brain, and you do the other half?”

you weren’t really listening, since you were too busy daydreaming about spiderman, so you just nod in response, not really knowing what han said.

he noted at that moment that it was near impossible to get a conversation out of you since you were so dismissive, and it kind of bothered him. but he didn’t want to press on about it, so he just keeps quiet.

“alright. i’ll start with… the cerebrum,”

he says, starting to write down notes. you jolt up, confused as hell on what that was.

“the what now?”

he pauses at your question, his pen hovering midair. he blinks for a moment, a little surprised that you didn’t know what it was.

“...the cerebrum,”

he explained,

“it’s the largest part of the brain.”

you chuckle,

“o-oh, i knew that..!”

han raised his eyebrow slightly at your response, but decided not to question it. he continued jotting down notes instead.

“right…”

he starts writing again,

“anyways, the cerebrum is responsible for processing sensory information, and it controls things like… the central nervous system, motor functions.“

you didn't really want him to blabber on about some random part of the brain, so you swiftly replied,

“okay, well, i’m gonna do the frontal lobe.”

he nods, still a little bit confused at your lack of knowledge in biology. he was well-aware that you weren’t the brightest in academics, but seriously, you don’t know what the cerebrum is? he pushes that thought aside, and continues to take notes for his half.

after a moment, he glances at your notes on the frontal lobe.

“you know the difference between the frontal lobe and the occipital lobe, right?”

“what’s the occipital lobe..?”

he almost facepalmed, but he managed to hold himself back. how don’t you know what any of these are?

he rubs his temples and explains as he takes notes.

“the occipital… it’s the part of the brain responsible for visual processing. the frontal lobe makes decisions, controls voluntary behaviour, and manages emotions.”

you nod, finally remembering (not) what the difference between the two lobes were.

“ah, that thing!”

han almost let out another sigh. he was seriously so confused about why you don’t know this stuff. it’s basic knowledge. he went back to taking notes after that, trying to ignore your lack of intellectuality.

as you wrote, your hand bumped into han’s. his notes screech to a halt the second your hand touched his. he froze in place for a second in surprise, and his gaze drifted to your hand that was so lightly touching his. he almost forgot how to breathe for a moment.

he glanced down at your hand, and then at himself. his face was flushed a light red, now incredibly flustered at the feeling of your hand. he tried to focus on taking notes but with your hand so close to his, it was proving to be a struggle.

after a few moments of awkward tension between the two of you, his notes are still at a stand-still. his hands trembled a bit from the fact he was barely even focusing on his notes. he couldn’t help but constantly steal glances at your hand that was still lightly touching his, trying so hard to keep his composure in check.

eventually, your hand moved away, since you had to move onto the next page of your notebook. han can’t say that he wasn’t disappointed when your hand moved away. he almost wanted to reach out and grab your hand back, but he’s able to hold himself back. taking the deep breath, he tries to focus on his notes again, but that’s proving to be.. difficult.

“han?”

he was snapped out of his thoughts, and he looks up at you upon hearing his name.

“yeah?”

“does this make sense?”

you ask, showing him your work so far. he blinks, and looks over at the notes you took for the frontal lobe. after examining them for a moment, he nods softly.

“yeah, it makes sense. good job.”

hearing him praise you made you feel some sort of accomplishment, so you give him a big smile and keep writing, now in the right mindset to work.

han smiled softly, and he felt his cheeks heating up once more as he looked at your face. just looking at you was enough to leave his heart pounding like crazy. he pushed his notes aside, trying to compose himself.

“…anytime.”

he continues to look at you as you return to your work, admiring your face and your dedication. he could barely focus on his work anymore, his mind completely occupied with you. he lets out a soft sigh, and runs a hand through his hair, not realising that he was still so deeply flustered. he glances at you again, stealing a quick moment to take in all of your facial features. you were so damn cute.

at the end of class, and since it was last period, you decide to ask han,

“hey um.. do you want to come to my house for us to finish our work? or maybe we could go to yours?”

he almost forgot how to take a damn breath at the question. did you really just ask him to come to your house? he nods almost immediately, and replies almost too enthusiastically.

“uh, sure. we can go to my house if you want! my pleasure!”

you nod and he nodded as well, still trying to process the fact that you were going to be coming to his house. he began to pack up his stuff, and once he was done, he glanced over at you.

“ready to go?”

“yep!”

he grinned, and hoisted his bag over his shoulder.

“alright. let's go, then.”

he got up from his desk, and motioned for you to follow him.

as the two of you walked side by side, han struggled to keep his composure at the fact that the pretty and popular girl of the school was next to him right now. he kept stealing glances at you every few seconds, admiring your features. he didn't even realise how much time he was wasting just staring at you.

after what seemed like an excruciatingly long walk to han, the house finally came into view. he paused when they got in front of it and looked at you.

“well, this is my house... you can come in if you want. my parents aren't here, so... yeah.”

“nice house.”

he chuckles at your compliment. he hadn’t expected you of all people to be saying such a thing to him.

“thanks. c’mon, let’s go inside.”

he held the door open for you and he followed in after you, closing the door after him. once the two of you were inside, he turned to you,

“you can take a seat on the couch. i’m just gonna go to my room for a sec and grab something real quick, alright?”

you nodded and settled yourself in, grabbing your backpack and taking out all the things necessary for the project.

once han entered his room, he glanced over to his spiderman suit that was neatly hung up in the wardrobe. he knew he had to hide it so you wouldn’t find it. he was worried you’d find out his identity, so he tried to hide it between his regular-day clothes.

after that, he took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. he made his way out of the room and into the living room, where you were sitting on the sofa. he smiled when he saw you and walked over to sit next to you.

after a long while of working on the project, you hear a blood-curdling scream. you look at han and he snaps out of his thoughts and frowns in concern, hearing the screams from outside.

“what the..?”

he looks over at the window, trying to see what was causing those noises. you sigh and tap him on the shoulder,

“hey, it’s okay, spiderman will save them.”

he freezes for a second, hearing you mention the name of his alter ego like that. he almost panics for a moment, but he quickly composes himself and looks at you.

“yeah.. right, he can handle it.”

he tries to sound casual, but inside he was absolutely losing his mind, since he was spiderman.

han heard the scream again, and he could tell that whoever was screaming definitely needed help. he looked at you, and internally panicked. what should he do? he couldn’t just leave you here on your own, but he had to go help. he made a split second decision and got up from the sofa.

“uh, i gotta go check on something real quick. i’ll be right back, alright?”

“sure!”

he rushed out the room and into his room, and shut the door.

“oh god, oh god, oh god..”

he muttered to himself, frantically opening the wardrobe to grab his spiderman suit. he changed into the suit as quickly as possible, putting on the mask and everything within a flash.

he rushed out of his room and quickly opened the window in the hallway, slipping out and onto the fire escape. he quickly swung out into the streets, heading toward the location of the screaming.

he swung along the rooftops, desperately trying to find the source of the screaming. the closer he got, the more he could hear the screams becoming more desperate and urgent. panic coursed through him at the thought of what might be happening to whoever needed help.

he finally spotted the scene, and his heart sank when he saw a woman being attacked by a group of men. adrenaline pumping through his veins, he gets down from the rooftop and lands in an alleyway, facing the thugs who were surrounding the poor woman.

he takes down the thugs without breaking a sweat, effortlessly dodging their punches and kicks. the thugs were no match for him, and eventually, they were all unconscious on the ground. he was breathing heavily from the adrenaline, but he could feel a wave a relief wash over him that he saved the woman in time.

“thank you, kind sir,”

the woman mumbles. han, or should i say spiderman, smiled softly behind the mask, and bowed his head to the woman in acknowledgment of her thanks. he made sure that she was alright before he turned away and swung back up to the rooftops once more.

he slipped in through the window and into his room, taking his mask off and letting out a huge sigh of relief. he changed out of his suit and back into his normal clothes, trying to calm his racing heart. that was way too close, way too close.

you were getting extremely worried. what was han doing in there? was he okay? so you called out,

“han? are you okay?”

he paused, and looked up when he hears you call out to him. he takes a moment to compose himself before responding, trying to keep his voice casual.

“y-yeah, i’m fine. why do you ask?”

“you’ve been in there for a while now.”

he rubs the back or his neck awkwardly, trying to come up with a quick excuse. he can’t tell you the fact that he just fought some bad guys in an alleyway..

“ah, yeah. i just needed to… use the bathroom. that’s all. heh..”

“oh, okay.”

he smiled weakly, hoping you’d bought the excuse. he felt a pang of guilt, lying to you so quickly and easily like that. he shook it off though, as he doesn’t have any choice but to keep this a secret from you. he walked back into the living room.

“anyway, sorry about that. let’s get back to work, yeah?”

“hey, can i borrow a pen from your room? mine ran out.”

he nodded at your request, he still felt nervous about what you might potentially find if he lets you go into his room on your own.

“sure, you can go in there and grab a pen. they’re in the first drawer in my desk.”

han watched as you got up and walked over to his room, and he immediately panics. what if you found his suit? that was the one thing he absolutely could not let you see. he tried to stay calm and casually watch you go into his room, internally praying that you wouldn’t look in the wrong places.

as you entered han’s room, the first thing your eyes landed on was the spiderman suit that was not-so neatly spread out over the bed. you freeze in your tracks, confusion and curiosity filling your mind.

“what the hell?”

your reaction had han jolted up from the sofa and rushing into his room to see what you were looking at. his face paled when he sees you looking at the suit, his heart dropping to his stomach at the thought of you discovering his secret.

but to his surprise, you say,

“you like to cosplay?”

he panics, desperately trying to think of an explanation for having a fully functional spiderman suit sitting on his bed.

“u-um, yeah! yeah, i like to cosplay...”

“cool.”

you say, before getting a pen out of han’s drawer. he let out a sigh of relief internally, glad that you seemed to have accepted the explanation so easily. he watched as you grabbed a pen from the drawer, and he slowly relaxed a bit at that fact you didn’t question it any further.

but suddenly, his spidey senses went off right before you even dropped the pen, and immediately he turned his head to you and caught the pen in an instant before it fell to the ground. he hands you the pen and you mumble,

“that was fast..”

he laughed awkwardly, still trying to keep up his composure in front of you. he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly,

“y-yeah, i just... have good reflexes, i guess.”

he could see the suspicion slowly beginning to form in your expression, and he mentally panicked even more. he was trying so hard to keep his cool and act normal, but it was getting harder with each passing second. he had to think of something quick before you started asking too many questions, but it was too late.

“where’d you buy this costume?”

you ask, crossing your arms, making han feel like he was being interrogated. he was caught off guard by your question, and he stutters for a moment, trying to come up with a plausible answer.

“u-uh, i ordered it online. it was really expensive, but it's... top quality, y’know?”

you pressed on further,

“what store?”

he hesitated momentarily, racking his brain for a possible answer. he couldn’t tell you the truth, that’s for sure. so he blurted out the first retail store name that came to mind at that moment.

“uh, amazon. yeah, i got it on amazon.”

this time, you stay in silence. han let out a soft sigh of relief, internally thankful that you seemed to have accepted his answer without any doubt. he gave you an awkward smile, still trying to act nonchalant.

“yeah, so uh, you got the pen. i guess we should get back to studying, huh?”

“but not even amazon has such good quality like this,”

you say. han’s heart dropped at your reply, and he curses himself internally for picking such a bad lie. he's starting to panic even more now, trying desperately to come up with another excuse.

“uh, well... i, y'know... customized it a bit. yeah, i bought the base costume and then made some adjustments myself.”

as you stared longer, you noticed a few clumps of what seemed like spider webs on the fingers of the so-called costume, just like spiderman’s web.

“is that spider web on the fingers?”

damn. you noticed that little detail. he nodded in response, still trying to sound as casual as possible.

“yeah, i put that on there myself. it makes the costume look more realistic, y’know?”

even more suspicious, you raised your eyebrow. sure, han was always a bit nervous at times, but he was practically sweating at this point.

“are you.. who i think you are?”

his heart stopped, and he felt a wave of panic shoot through him at your question. he knew there was no way he could deny it now, not after everything that just happened. he hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly, his face pale with anxiety.

“y-yeah... i’m..”

he took a deep breath and spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“...i’m spiderman.”

he stood there in silence after confessing his secret, waiting for your reaction. his heart was pounding so hard that he could hear the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. he was terrified of what you might think of him now that you know the truth.

“you know,”

you say, getting confident now,

“i’ve always had a crush on spiderman, so i guess i have a crush on you now.”

his heart fluttered at your confession, and he blushed heavily as he processed your words. he couldn’t believe that you’re not just accepting his secret, but also admitting to having a crush on him.

“y-you... you’re not joking, right? this isn’t a prank or something?”

“you are so cute~”

his cheeks turned into an even deeper shade of red at your comment, and he felt a rush of emotions coursing through him. no one had ever called him cute before, especially not after knowing he was spiderman.

“you... you think i’m cute? really?”

han’s head snapped towards the sound of a window crashing, and his eyes widened with alarm. he instinctively put a hand on your arm, his expression turning serious.

“stay here. i need to check what that was.”

he quickly slipped into his spiderman suit, his mind focused on the situation at hand. he can’t help but feel worried about leaving you alone, but he shakes off the thought, knowing that he has a job to do.

he rushed out of his room and towards the source of the crash, his senses on high alert. he arrived at the scene in a matter of seconds, seeing that it was the result of a break in. the window was smashed open, glass scattered on the floor.

the intruder was caught off guard, and they turned around to face him. their eyes widened in surprise when they see the sight of spiderman in front of them. they quickly try to compose themselves and raise their hands in a surrendering gesture.

“i just... i was just looking for some money. i don’t want any trouble, i swear.”

han narrowed his eyes, not trusting a word the intruder says. he knew better than to let them off easily.

“yeah, right. i’ve heard that excuse before. what's your real motive here?”

the intruder tries to bolt out of the door, but han's quick reflexes and webbing stops him in his tracks. they look up to see spider-man hanging upside down on the roof, a smirk on his face.

“going somewhere?”

the intruder tries to break free from the webbing, but it's no use. they’re completely trapped.

“shit.. let me go, man! come on!”

han tsked at them, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“nope, not happening. you’re not going anywhere until the cops get here.”

the intruder panicked when they heard the mention of cops, trying even harder to break free from the webbing.

“no no no, please don’t call the cops, man. i’ll do anything, please!”

he watched as the cops take away the intruder, feeling a sense of satisfaction that justice has been served. he turns his attention back to his surroundings, making sure everything is now safe and secure.

he glanced up towards his bedroom window and sees you standing there, watching him.

he chuckled softly as you came down to the porch, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of you being so close to him. he was still hanging upside down from the webbing, his eyes locked onto yours.

“you know, most people would be scared to approach me while i’m hanging upside down like this.”

you don’t know who or what possessed you to do so, but you kissed him, hard and deep, and full of passion.

han’s eyes widened in surprise as you kissed him, his heart skipping multiple beats at the unexpected action. the feeling of your lips on his was electric, and he completely forgets about being upside down for a moment. he kisses you back, his hand instinctively moving to your waist to pull you closer, the other still gripping the webbing.

he broke away from the kiss, panting slightly as he looked into your eyes. he couldn’t believe what just happened, and his cheeks were flushed with a mix of excitement and surprise.

“gosh... you... you really just did that.”

but you weren’t done with him yet. you tore the mask off of his face and kissed him yet again. he let out a soft gasp as you did so, his heart pounding in his chest. he was completely lost in the moment, his senses overwhelmed by the feeling of your lips on his again. he kissed you back hungrily, landing on the ground with a whoosh before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer to him.

he couldn’t believe that this was happening, that you were actually kissing him like this. his mind was racing with a million thoughts, but none of them matter at the moment. all that mattered was the feeling of your lips on his, the warmth of your body against his.

after a while, han reluctantly pulled away, his and your lips were bruised as hell. han whispers,

"don’t you think it’s weird that i’m spiderman? or.. i don't know, too much to handle?”

“no, it’s cool.”

he let out a sigh of relief, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. he was expecting a lot of different reactions, but this was definitely not one of them.

“i’m... i’m glad. i was kinda worried you’d be freaked out, or think i’m a total freak for being spiderman.”

“it’s still kind of strange how you’re completely different at school.”

he chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“yeah, well, sometimes the really hot girl needs to know that the really geeky guy.. isn’t just a geeky guy.”

you chuckled,

“you’re calling me really hot now, huh?”

he blushed slightly at his own words, realizing what he just said.

“m-maybe i did..”

[shizuturnspages]

They say that capitano isn't actually dead his soul if just resting and is just a matter of time until he returns. Bro imagine when the reader leaves and they're probably in another part of snezhnaya or another country and one day while day were just enjoying life they see capitano... At first they thought they were hallucinating until he spoke

Ding-Dong, The Tin Can’s Back

You were living your best life.

Ever since Capitano’s glorious sacrifice, you had been thriving. No more ridiculous training drills at sunrise. No more stern lectures about “discipline” and “proper behaviour.” And most importantly? No more Capitano.

You had escaped the Fatui stronghold and were finally free.

So, there you were, sitting outside a quaint little café in Fontaine, sipping on a ridiculously overpriced tea, minding your damn business.

Then—

A massive shadow loomed over you.

You froze.

A deep, familiar voice rumbled, “… You seem well.”

Your tea cup slipped from your fingers and shattered on the ground.

Slowly, painfully slowly, you turned your head.

And there. Standing in front of you. Clad in that shiny-ass armour. A presence so unmistakable that it sent a shiver down your spine—

CAPITANO.

ALIVE.

Or—undead? A ghost? A hallucination?!

Your brain completely short-circuited. You squinted. Blinked once. Twice.

“… Nope.” You turned back around. “Nope. Not real. I refuse. My life is good. My life is peaceful. My life does NOT include my legally dead war criminal babysitter.”

Capitano did not disappear.

“… Are you ignoring me?” he asked.

You picked up a spoon and stared into the reflection like a lunatic. “I am hallucinating due to prolonged exposure to childhood trauma. It’s not real if I don’t acknowledge it.”

Capitano sighed. That deep, exasperated sigh you thought you’d never have to hear again.

“I see you have not changed.”

Your eye twitched.

Very, very slowly, you turned back toward him and stared.

This was not happening. This was not happening.

Your eye twitched so hard you nearly pulled a muscle.

This had to be a prank. Or a fever dream. Or maybe, just maybe, hell was real, and you were being punished for every time you’d cussed him out.

You grabbed a random bystander. “EXCUSE ME, DO YOU SEE THE SEVEN-FOOT-TALL MURDER MACHINE IN FRONT OF ME?”

The terrified Fontainian nodded furiously.

“Oh, shit.”

"You thought you could escape?"

"I FUCKING DID!"

"You thought I was dead?"

"YOU FUCKING WERE!"

"… Incorrect," he rumbled, stepping closer, "here I am."

You took one deep breath. And then:

"WHY CAN’T YOU JUST STAY DEAD?!"

Capitano said nothing. He just tilted his head.

"Because I have unfinished business."

You pointed aggressively. "YEAH, WELL, FINISH IT SOMEWHERE ELSE!"

But he didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

You threw a baguette at his head.

It bounced off his helmet with a sad little ‘bonk.’

Capitano did not react.

Silence.

Then, very calmly, he asked, “… Was that supposed to do something?”

You stood up so fast, your chair fell over. “I—NO—HOW—WHY—”

Your entire body short-circuited. You were 99% sure you were having a stroke.

And then, Capitano delivered the final blow.

“I assume you still remember your combat training. I expect you back at the stronghold by dawn.”

Your soul physically left your body.

You grabbed your bag, turned around, and sprinted into the Fontaine harbour.

Capitano watched as you dove straight into the ocean, disappearing beneath the waves without hesitation.

A Fatui agent hesitantly approached him. “… Sir, should we—?”

“No,” Capitano said. “They will return.”

The agent frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

Capitano tilted his head.

“… They left their wallet.”

And that was the day you became Fontaine’s first-ever international drowning attempt survivor.

[carneliangrim]

Right, so Y’know the post I made a while ago about the same character yea?

I decided to act on another impulse based on that to try and get my brain back into art mode, so have this!

It’s Cerise introducing Pearl to Raven, Cedar and Maddie. I’m making a smaller thing on that but yea have this first. How Pearl got there? I do not know, but she is there and Cerise seems to trust her a whole lot, she doesn’t know why, she just does!

I used my version of Pearl cause I’ve already shown her (and I gave her maned wolf ears! Hence the bit of orange!), and I already have a version of Cerise, but it would be too hmmm… unknown? If I had made her and didn’t introduce that character design before.

I also have some shading versions as well!

[bloodywankers]

tw; yandere, manipulation, controlling behaviour, forced marriage, cult analogy, slight misogyny blue lock chris prince | politician au | 3.4k words | unedited | turn your brain off while reading plz | blue lock masterlist

Politics is a hard career, especially when you’re honest to a fault and inflexible. You should be able to look past things, close your eyes and turn your back here and there. That’s what Chris thought, at least. His life is so much easier when he spews whatever words are trending that week and makes a few promises people will forget by the time the next big thing happens. Just smile and wave. It’s not like anyone would find out about all his back door deals, and even if they tried to, the crime rate in the city is high, it’s not uncommon for nosey journalists to get into hot water with some roaming criminal. To show up mangled and bloody the next morning on the news. 

“And that’s why I pledge to help reduce the crime rate in our city!” The blond proclaimed loudly as a string of chants left the audience. Politics is easy when people are naturally attracted to you and blindly follow whatever nonsense you come up with. As people started to quiet down, Chris said his goodbyes, and reporters swarmed him as he left, one after another. Asking about anything from his latest policies to what he thought about some recent events the media wouldn’t shut up about. Not that he planned to answer any of them, it's hard to keep up with all your lies when there’s no premeditated script. And anyway, he's a busy man, he has places to be and things to do and can’t afford to waste his precious time on something so trivial. 

“What’s on my schedule now?” 

“You were invited to a college gathering, after that, you’re scheduled to have dinner with the police commissioner.” 

He said entering his car, the drive would be short, and the venue selected was nearby after all. 

“I won’t stay long, make sure to be on standby—” 

He said, exiting the vehicle, but his sentence was cut short as the male bumped into someone, looking down to find a woman, clearly distraught for whatever reason. 

“Ah… I’m really sorry; I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She said, offering a polite bow before walking off, too preoccupied with whatever was on her phone screen to care much for who he was. Not that he minded, it's easier when they don’t recognise him. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’ll call you before I'm about to come out, so make sure to be on standby, we can’t afford to be late to the meeting with the commissioner.” Chris said, walking into the venue as he heard a faint ‘Yes sir.’ in the background. 

It was easy to spot the tables reserved for the reunion, what with the chatter, loud greetings from old classmates bragging about their success and offering of unwarranted financial advice to fill their own pockets. It was a diverse bunch, well, as diverse as one from an elite university could be. 

“Chris!” One of the men exclaimed, waving at the man to catch his attention. The blond couldn't help but wince at the sight, from his loosened tie and red cheeks, Chris could tell he was drunk, the unmistakable stench of alcohol coming from him upon closer inspection only further proof of it. Not that he cared; he was only here to offer polite greetings and sit around for a while before leaving. Just enough to fulfil whatever common courtesy required he does.

“It’s so hard to get a hold of you these days. You're acting like one of those big politicians now that you've become a mayoral candidate.” Another classmate slurred in a drunken stupor, Chris couldn't care enough to remember who he was. 

“Come on, you know how busy it is, I barely get time to do anything at all with elections coming up.” He replied, a large smile and boisterous laughter following suit, careful not to let any displeasure slip out. “You have to help me out once you become mayor, I've been telling everyone how we used to be best buddies back in college, same soccer team and all. Let me in on any juicy stock info you get your hands on.” The blond didn't offer a concrete reply, instead pouring the stranger more alcohol. He couldn’t wait to leave. 

“Anyways, you’ll never guess what happened earlier. Y’know [name]?” The bottle in Chris’s hands almost dropped as he turned towards the man. There were few names he remembered, even fewer that could warrant such a reaction. 

“Yeah, the one you used to be super into, chairman [last name]’s daughter? I remember I even have pictures of you two from graduation. Yeah, she came in earlier. Apparently, she cut ties with him and became a school teacher.” 

“A school teacher?” All dignity he had upheld previously was thrown out the window as Chris leaned forward, eyes set on the man speaking, resembling more a nosy housewife than a seasoned politician. 

“Yeah, she's hot as hell now, too, look on the far left on the table in front of you.” 

It was embarrassing to admit that he still thought about you, not when you two ended it all on such a bad note before you graduated and you vanished from sight. He couldn’t help but be curious as to what you looked like now if you still had the same habits and if you would still look at him with the same contempt as you did before. Truth be told, he still wasn’t over it, even after all this time. 

“That’s [name]?” 

“Yep.” 

What a coincidence, he thought. You’re the one he had bumped into earlier. He hadn’t paid attention back then, but you had the same hair and dress; he was sure it was you, now that he heard it, you have the same voice as well. Maybe it was destiny. He couldn't help what happened next, almost as if his body moved instinctively. 

“Hey, if it isn’t [name]! You remember me?” Maybe others would have thought it shameless to approach someone when their distaste for you was well known throughout the cohort, but if Chris had even an ounce of shame, he probably wouldn't have made it as far as he had done. 

“Sorry?” You looked uncomfortable, now that you could look at his face clearly, he was sure he recognised him. It would be insulting if you had forgotten him after only a few years. 

“I’m not sure…” Look at you avoiding eye contact, how cute. 

“S’a shame, we used to be real close back in college.” He had just rolled his eyes moments ago when a classmate claimed they used to be close friends, and now here he was using the same trick. Inviting himself to the spot next to you, someone was already seated there, what with the half-drunk glass of water and plate of food placed there, but seeing as they were nowhere to be found, he was sure they wouldn’t mind moving. 

He tried striking up a conversation with you, trying any possible way he could to be closer to you than he already was, it felt so refreshing to see you after all these years. In contrast to his lovestruck state, you tried brushing him off a few times, changing the discussion to something others could join in on, distracting him just enough to slip away. Ask about his recent TV interview or political career. Unfortunately for you, he was a master conversationalist, Chris knew what you were doing and, if anything, found your attempts to distance yourself quite adorable. 

However, unfortunately for him, time passed faster than he would like to admit, his driver having to escort him out before he missed his dinner plans. He cursed himself for not asking for your number, considering the sheer amount of people there, he was sure you would have agreed, after all, it would be hard to reject him in front of them all if you were still as much of a pushover as you were back then. 

/ 

You never liked Chris, if anything, you dreaded the moment he started approaching you. No single event caused this distaste; rather, it was just the discomfort that came with being with someone so sociable. He had a bad habit of forcing you out of your comfort zone, whether he realised it or not. But you were sure he did. 

You were eager to push back your chair and storm out of the gathering at any moment. Had it not been for your old classmate who insisted you attend this time around, that it had been ‘far too long’ and that you’d never seemed to attend the get-togethers she organised’, maybe you would have ignored the invitation sent your way this time as well. However, despite the unpleasant run-in with Chris, the event went well. No one spoke too much of your fallout with your father or how you practically threw your degree aside to pursue a career as a ‘meagre teacher’ this time. Not nearly as much as they did in the past, at least. And you managed to come home early, so while you had no intentions of putting yourself through that again, you thought it had gone quite well. 

Furthermore, you were tired of uprooting your life time and time again, and you enjoyed your new work as a kindergarten teacher. Children had always had a soft spot in your heart, and you couldn’t help but melt when they tried to act grown-up or pronounce big words or even just waddle around the classroom that looked so large from their eyes. You worked at a good school, not the most outstanding but decent regardless, so you were rightly taken aback when you were informed that a politician would be visiting, something about wanting to promote his campaign. You were sure there were better ways to go about that than visiting a school with children who couldn't care less if he did want to bomb innocent civilians or not.  

But that was that, and you didn’t linger on it too much, not until you saw a familiar set of blond hair walk in, slicked back and in his signature suit. Surrounded by a crew of cameramen and assistants hoping to catch every second to not miss what could’ve been the next big headline. 

You could feel your heart drop as he flashed a grin your way. All left for you to do was pray that the amount of cameras surrounding him would put him off from approaching you too much. 

He was good with children, just about as good as he was with most people, making sweet promises and spewing encouraging words their way. 

“[name]! Fancy seeing you here as well.” He said, motioning you to join him as he painted with some of the children. The familiarity he used to refer to you caused the cameraman to immediately perk up. 

“You know, miss [name]?” One of the kids asked. 

“No, it’s not—” 

“Yep! Me and your teacher go way back!” The people present on sight seemed to be eating this up, Chris merely laughed and went on colouring, trying to attempt polite conversation with you here and there. 

You were sure he knew what he was doing. He’s no fool; if there is anyone who should know the weight of words, it should be him, the one who made a career out of them. So you waited until the crew slowly left, and the children were all taken by their parents before letting out your frustrations on him. 

“What’s your problem?!” 

Maybe you could’ve been more mature about how you went about this, voiced your concerns like a responsible adult and asked for his understanding instead of lashing out like this. But Chris had never been one to care about others’ feelings, so you were sure reasoning with him would have been in vain. 

“You weren’t just visiting some kids; there was an entire hoard of cameras behind you. You know this better than anyone else. ‘go way back??’ What are you trying to do?” 

“We both went to the same college. It isn’t a lie to say we were well acquainted. At least up until you decided to run off to who knows where.” If you weren’t so focused on the man in front of you, maybe you would have noticed the one hidden behind a nearby wall–the cameraman from earlier.–“That was years ago. You gain nothing out of doing this, so why-!” You stopped yourself mid-sentence, reminded of the futility of arguing with someone as thick-headed as him and the frustration that would ensue afterwards. Rubbing your temple in hopes of relieving some of the tension before walking away, offering Chris one last glare as you did. If you had stayed for longer, maybe you would have seen red that dusted on his uncharacteristically blank face or the shoddy attempt to cover it with his hand as he stared at your figure until it disappeared out of sight. 

/ 

You had always avoided the spotlight, especially from strangers, but the very next morning, even before whatever they were filming at the school had aired, there was already article after article featuring pictures of you and Chris together from the day before. He didn’t expect it to come out so soon, but it didn’t feel unpleasant to see photos of you two in every cheap tabloid in the city–even if you were just standing together. And while most of the rumours were fuelled by speculation alone, he could already picture your reaction of sheer panic. After all, you were still the same [name] he remembered, the same one he had created. You would curse yourself for allowing this to have happened as if you could’ve never predicted your entire life would be turned upside-down because of an ex you hadn’t talked to in years. 

Few knew this, but Chris Prince had two loves in his life–politics, the one everyone was sure to guess, and his college sweetheart, [name]. The one he could never manage to charm no matter what he said or did, the one that saw through his act and saw him for what he was. A slave to society, the worst type of human, with no morals or convictions besides what would make him the most money or give him the most praise. But you failed to notice one thing about him, and that was his conviction to make you his own little passion project. Where he took the plain quiet [name] and turned her into something nobody could look away from but could never touch because you would be his. His diamond in the rough, the one that he found and polished. Somehow, Chris succeeded in inserting himself into your life, not a boyfriend–you had never made it official–but not a friend. Because friends don’t decide what you wear or eat or who you talk to or kiss you in the empty classroom. Looking back on it, he was probably one of the main reasons you left it all behind as soon as you graduated, disappeared off the face of the earth and didn’t contact anyone you knew up until that point. He made you realise how unfit you were for that world and how quickly you buckled under pressure. Once you settled into teaching, a passion you didn’t know you had, you thought you could leave it all behind. Live as you wanted, if only you hadn’t run into that old classmate who instantly recognised you and insisted you attend. If only you weren’t spineless and incapable of saying no when it mattered. 

Even so, like a fool, you hoped nothing would change, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Chris thought it was time you come back to your rightful place. You ran off at such an inconvenient time, right when he started taking off in the eyes of the public. He was still young and inexperienced, and so he made the mistake of letting you slip out of his grasp, one he regretted until he met you again that day. Now that you were on his home turf, he couldn’t just let you go again. So, as he raved about the rights of women, he thought about all the ways he would tie you down until you couldn't even think of leaving him. 

That’s why his crew that day consisted of such loose-lipped people, that’s why he let those remarks slip and didn’t react even when all sorts of rumours about you two spread. After all, Chris had always been one to skillfully dodge questions about marriage, the type that seemed uninterested in anything that wouldn’t increase his approval ratings so this was bound to be something big. At least, that’s what most people thought. Now, as he dialled your phone number, all that was left was to see how much his acting had improved. 

“Hello?” Your voice was faint, he could tell you were a wreck right now. 

“[name]? You have to help me, otherwise, I’ll lose it all!” 

If Chris’ grin wasn’t as wide as it was, anyone seeing him would think he was equally–if not more– shaken by the recent events than you were. You most certainly did as he went on a spiel about how the career he worked so hard to build all these years is about to crumble, all because of you. No sane person would believe any of this but your state was far from it. You had never fared well under stress after all. 

“Help you…? What could I possibly do?” You spoke so softly he couldn’t believe just yesterday your words were laced with pure spite. That’s when he said something so ridiculous even he couldn’t believe himself. 

“We have to make it seem like we’re in a relationship. Some old classmates released photos from college–the rumours are getting out of hand nothing I say will be enough to quench them, please understand it’s so close to elections I can’t lose when I’m so close. [name], please!” It wasn’t a complete lie, photos from college had been leaked, but he wasn’t entirely helpless. Chris could, if he wanted to, pull some strings. But this was just so much more entertaining, to see you walk straight into his grasp again. 

Most people would laugh at his sorry excuses, curse and hang up but most also think they’re immune to cults until they’ve been fully indoctrinated into thinking aliens have invaded us and that death is the only solution. Your little disappearing stunt had been troublesome but years of work had not yet been undone. The way you dressed was still as he had taught you, your figure was still the one he worked you to the bone to obtain and your posture the one he made sure you’d never deviate from. The only difference was that even you couldn’t see through him anymore, after all, there was nothing to see. 

Once you were within his grasp everything else came easy, like a slippery slope you could never climb back from. First, it started with publicly announcing a relationship that never existed. Then a marriage under the pretext that nobody would take him seriously if he just messed around with a girlfriend like a child. If you ever questioned him he would just flip the narrative on its head, it was your fault this happened, you almost ruined his career, are you sure you didn’t do all this to marry him? It’s okay, he’ll love you regardless because he’s a kind, loving husband. And eventually, it’ll become a reality, you–just like everyone else–will convince yourself you’re undeserving of someone like him. 

‘You want to have children? You’re right, it’s about time we have a couple running around, anything for my wife!’ He’s glad all those run-ins with large happy families and visits to children's hospitals and orphanages paid off, otherwise, he’s had to use more… unsavoury methods.

‘You’ll have to quit your job because of the pregnancy? It’s okay I’ll take care of you!’ He was getting tired of it anyway, now he can have you all to himself.

Even if one day you wake up from your trance, it’s too late now because there’s nothing left of you but the parts that constitute Chris Prince’s wife. If the eyes are the window to the soul then Chris must have long sold his and now he’s ridden you of yours too.