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vunblr · 10 months ago

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Masterlist

Thanks for stopping by! Enjoy the journey through these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

The Weight of Choices (Slight angst. Smut.) Oneshot.

Summary: Torn between his instinct to protect his family and his desire to be a part of their lives, Bucky tries to deal with the reality of his ex-wife going on a date while he stays home caring for their son.

An Unfinished Goodbye (Slight Angst. Side-story of The Weight of Choices.) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky tells himself he’s only watching over his ex-wife and son for their safety. But when someone threatens to alter the status quo, his quiet vigilance falters.

What If?... (Fluff. Smut) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky navigates his insecurities and guilt from his past as he grows closer to his new neighbor, a nurse.

The Memory Remains (Fluff. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: An unexpected encounter brings Bucky face-to-face with someone from his past, stirring memories he thought were long buried.

Wounds and Walls (Slight angst. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky starts to walk into his new civilian life but struggles with his painful past, while slowly building a connection with someone who sees through his walls. As the relationship deepens, he must decide if he’s ready for something more, or if he’ll hide and push it all away.

Crumbs of Connection (Fluff.) Oneshot

Summary: When Bucky wanders into a quirky late-night bakery, he doesn’t expect the warmhearted owner to challenge his defenses.

Spells and Fangs (World of Warcraft AU) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky, a grumpy worgen warrior, and his sharp-tongued mage partner are sent on a relatively simple quest that quickly spirals into chaos.

Roots and Branches (Fluff. Smut. Lumberjack AU)

Summary: Bucky has built a quiet life in the woods, content to keep the world at arm's length. But when a new neighbor moves to town, her presence ignites emotions he’s hesitant to face.

A Heart in Hiding (Angst-Hurt/Comfort) Oneshot

Summary: Caught between the shadows of his past and an unexpected connection, Bucky wrestles with his demons and his growing feelings for a new Avenger.

To Mend a Soldier (Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff.) Oneshot

Summary: Pressed by a worried Sam, Bucky reluctantly agrees to try an alternative -and, if you ask him, weird- therapy program: rent-a-mom. What starts as an obligation soon turns into something far more meaningful than he ever expected.

Toy Soldier (Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Smut) Ended.

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

The Broken Waltz (Angst. Hurt. Sprinkles of comfort. Dark content.) Toy Soldier's Side-story. Oneshot

Fifteen Minutes (Angst. Hurt. Sprinkles of comfort. Dark content.)

Toy Soldier's Side-story. Oneshot

Summary: Before freedom, before choice, there was only function. A tool and a weapon, bound in a dance orchestrated by Hydra’s cruel hands. The tool was meant to mend, the weapon to destroy. That night, the tool got to witness the weapon's other purposes.

The Price of Silence (Blue-collar Bucky) Ongoing

Summary: Porn with a little plot. Cynical and disenchanted with the world Bucky finds a job at a construction site after the blip. Tasked with retrieving lunch from a local bakery, he never expects to fall into a fuck-buddies situation with the clerk.

A Hand in the Dark (Angst. Hurt/Comfort.) Ongoing

Summary: In a brief moment of lucidity, Soldat makes a choice. And some choices echo across time, shaping the future in ways no one could predict.

Foundations (Slight Angst. Fluff) Ended

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Plump & Ripe (Fluff. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: On a routine visit to the fruit shop, Bucky ends up with more than his usual goodies.

Lush (Fluff. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: After Bucky is reminded by an offending shirt that his body isn't what it used to be, Sugarplum finds just the right way to get him out of his head.

Terms of Attraction (Fluff. Slight Comfort. Sexual Tension.) Oneshot

Summary: Long hours, sharp tongues, and unbreakable trust have defined Industrial Inputs CEO Bucky Barnes and his secretary’s dynamic, always walking a fine line. But some lines aren’t meant to be left uncrossed.

Tangled (Merman! Bucky. Fluff. Slight Angst. Teratophilia.) Ended

Summary: Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his hidden world -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Built to Last (Fluff) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky took up carpentry to keep himself busy, but didn't expect a hardware clerk to make him want more.

A Star Without a Sky (Slight Angst. Comfort. Fluff. Smut) Ongoing

Summary: A wounded Sheriff Barnes seeks shelter in a young widow’s home, and finds himself wrapped in a warmth he no longer believes he deserves, and longing for something he thought long buried.

Behind Closed Doors (Slight angst. Mommy Kink) Oneshot

Summary: Most days, Bucky is a functional, dependable, and even deadly man. Others, when the noise in his head gets too loud, behind closed doors, he becomes Jamie.

The Trouble With Saturdays (Fluff) Oneshot

Summary: Life at the Thunderbolts Tower is loud, chaotic, and full of questionable moral choices. Bucky’s used to keeping to himself, until one night, after one of those questionable moral choices was made, the guys got him high.

The Trouble With Feelings (Fluff) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky wakes up with a hangover and a flood of regrets. Avoidance, assumptions, and one gala set the stage for everything to finally reach the surface.

Spasibo (Smut) Oneshot

Summary: She offered kindness where there should’ve been fear. Now it haunts her in silence, starved for warmth it can’t forget.

EVENTS MASTERLISTS

AA Bucky's 108th birthday Bingo

AA Kinky Bingo

Chains of Fate (Fluff. Smut.) Destroyer!Chris. Oneshot

Summary: A florist keeps having trouble with her bicycle, and Chris, her rugged mechanic neighbor, is always available to help. Or isn’t he?

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

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sheepispink · 5 months ago

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His medic, Your muse

pairings: leon s kennedy x medic!reader (im pretty sure it’s gender neutral)

summary: You’re a medic at the DSO, your first ever patient being Leon. However that was three years ago and you’ve since left for a better life, but Leon’s being doing worse, struggling to survive without you. So, as anyone does, he turns up injured at your doorstep, multiple times.

WC: 4.5k

A/n: i miss him so much, i miss leon so much i want to kiss him

resident evil masterlist

————————————————-

You’ve worked at the DSO for a while, though as one of the medics rather than an agent. The training was tough but you took it well, eventually getting your certification. However, you still have not treated a real patient yet, only assisting or handling miniscule problems. Today you had been told that a bunch of agents had just returned and one would be assigned to you. There wasn’t time to ask questions, even to determine his state, before he’s knocking at your little infirmary in the west wing. He had dealt with his fair share of medics in his training, and they hadn’t been particularly nice. In fact none of the others in the program were particularly friendly either; nearly everyone was tightlipped due to the fact this was supposed to be some top secret government program. When he was ushered towards the infirmary and you approached him, he was expecting a straight forward and relatively quiet checkup, or at best a few stammers seeing as you didn’t look too experienced. This was the least favourite part of his missions; newbie or not, he was sure he’d leave this only feeling more drained than before. “Kennedy, is it? Are there any really bad injuries I should be aware of?”

You do stutter a little, making his lips quirk upwards at his correct prediction. “My hand got stabbed, and I was injected with some.. virus thing, then healed. Anything else shouldnt be too bad.” He reminds himself not to get too hopeful over you— that might just be the only full sentence you say for the next three hours. “V-virus?” You squeak it out, having never heard of an agent getting a virus and then healing from said virus too. Though you were briefed about Umbrella a while back, you didnt realise they made antidotes too. Then again, they didn't want all their people to die out.

You ignore the way his lips rise again at your squeak, instead opening a new syringe and setting up some vials. “Okay, we’ll have to take some blood to test for any abnormalities. Are you scared of needles?”

He blinks at you, stares down at his rolled up sleeve, the needle in your hand and then back to you again, eyebrow raised. “What if I was?”

He wasn't, but he couldn’t fault you for asking; he’s met a lot of people in his life who’ve been afraid, even if they were special service agents or the like.

“Well there’s a different needle I can use, or I can make sure you don't know when I've done it.. or I can make sure you don't see it?” He raises a brow, and shakes his head, about to mumble something about him not being scared of needles. Though, before he can get a sound out, there’s a pinch in his arm and in seconds you have the vial filled up to the top. “Hold onto this.” He finds himself following your orders without hesitation, his hand holding down a small cotton ball you pressed against the incision whilst you grab a piece of medical tape to keep it down. “Perfect, just tell me if that carries on bleeding. Now pass me your hand and I'll rewrap the gauze there.”

He blinks, watching as you delicately take his hand, slowly unwrapping the bandages and watching him for any reaction of pain. It hurts, but it’s nothing he cant handle too badly. You’re slow and careful as you clean the wound, your thumb pressing gently into his uninjured skin in a soothing gesture each time he tenses. “There, all done.” A smile curves on your lips, satisfied by your neat bandages left on his hand. “Thanks..” He starts to sit up right, ready to leave when you speak up again, hands around a small clipboard.

”So, apart from noticeable injuries, what else have you had?” He hasn't expected you to care about anything other than open wounds, considering most nurses wouldn't but you’re watching him expectantly. “Got thrown around a lot, probably some big bruises and cuts—nothing too bad.” Your brows furrow though, and you gesture for him to show you them and so he does. For the next half hour, you carefully check over each mark and particularly large bruise, fingers gentle against his collarbone as you wipe down a cut there. ”Is this it now..?” He currently feels like a mummy from how much gauze and plasters litter his body.

”Injuries-wise, yes.” You chuckle at his impatience, looking up at him again after turning the page to a fresh one. “How are you feeling?”

”What?”

”Y’know, your mental state. Any unusual migraines, brain fog..voices?” He shakes his head slowly and you nod, scribbling down a short note. He hadn’t expected to stay here this long, nor for you to ask things like that, especially since he knew most of the DSO medics were worked to the bone. You take his short answer well, scooting your swivel chair over to the computer. “Alright… just keep applying ointment on those bruises..” You hum whilst tapping away at your keyboard, likely filling in a prescription for a proper jar of ointment for him.

This time he finally stands, grabbing his leather jacket and slipping it on. He does feel a little better— even he can't deny that fact. “You’ll have a debriefing soon right..?” He lets out a small huff in agreement, clearly not looking too happy about being forced back into the job once more and not trying to hide that in the slightest.

“Hmm.. how many hours of medical leave do you want? I can't do a whole day based on your injuries, but I can definitely get you some hours of rest.” He blinks at you—was that not technically lying? As a medic, you had the authority to request a temporary, permanent, or just even a few hours of discharge, but agents who have tried to request it were nearly always denied. After all, the DSO didn't care about their employees, only the work they got done.

”You look tired. It’d do good for your injuries.” You turn back to him, giving him a small shrug before gesturing to the empty medical beds around the small room. There was a curtain to shield each one off from the other, supposed to be used for emergencies or treatments. He thinks about it for a moment, wondering if you’re really being serious about all of this. As he stares back, all he can see is the genuine worry in your eyes and he reluctantly softens his harsh features, nodding. “Okay.. guess I can stay for a bit.”

He’s suddenly very grateful when you keep your gaze to your paperwork as he steps towards a bed in the far corner, draping his jacket on the small table and undoing the remaining gear on his person. His shirt now crumpled on the desk, he slips beneath the soft but thin covers of the bed. Never would he have ever thought he’d accept an offer like this before; when he sneaks a peek back at you, he only sees you tapping away quietly at your computer. It’s an environment he likes, quiet.. peaceful; he soon dozes off, slipping into a deep slumber.

————-

That was three years ago, and since then you’ve been one of the only medics he’s let tend to, and the only he’d speak with outside of the infirmary. Sometimes choosing the medic was out of his control, but the more you were assigned to him, the more he longed for that medic to always be you. He wasn’t the only one though; you were regularly praised by the agents for being one of the most attentive around. Since that day, he’s spent a lot more hours in your infirmary too, whether it was for checkups, small cuts or just a well-needed chat that’d occasionally turn into an excuse to nap. You were one of the few things keeping him sane after every mission, making sure he stayed healthy and well and prescribing him rest whenever you deemed it to be necessary— that was practically always though.

However, just when he started to consider indulging in your presence a little more, you had decided enough was enough. Despite your constant dedication, even you couldn't live through the constant stress of attending to every injured person and witnessing deaths of agents you used to see every day. And so, after saving up enough and finding a job that only required part time, you quit. You know the agents would survive without you; after all, you were just a small spark in the midst of the darkness of the company and it had been slowly snuffing out the light you had left.

For the first few months, Leon pushed past it, especially as more B.O.Ws showed up across the states. With each mission he only drained himself more and more, forced to walk past the empty infirmary with a longing tear in his heart. He couldn't help it; you cared about him more than he would even care about himself, and he cared for you more than his mind could comprehend. So he continued to deny himself, forcing himself through mission after mission until he was riding back on his motorcycle—the pain brutal as he drove through the empty streets. What good was there in calling for help? He’d only be shoved into more work by morning, another hangover, another splitting headache and another wish of everything ending altogether. A cycle he desperately had not wanted to repeat again.

”Uh.. um.. are you free?” He leans against a payphone, knowing it’s two am and feeling so, so bad for the tired yawn that echoed when you had eventually picked up. “What’s wrong Leon..? You don’t sound too good..” He couldn't speak; forced into silence just by your gentle voice speaking out his name. There was no more of that Kennedy nonsense, just him, Leon. “Can I come over..?”

Ten minutes later you opened the door to his weary face, an exhaustion that rung his hair flat and sunk his gaze to the floor. “Oh my—“ You gasp, noticing the stains of red on his shirt and grabbing his wrist without a second thought. Quickly, you have him settled on your couch, his shirt discarded as you tend to a gash near his side, fixing him as you always have. When you’re sure he’s fine, you give him a worried glance before grabbing him a thick duvet, water and painkillers. He sleeps soundly on your couch that night, no nightmares to lurk in the depths of his mind and nothing leaking out the ever present hole that once painted his heart.

After that day, it grew increasingly harder to avoid the urge. How would anyone deny something so perfect when they’ve already been delivered a taste? It was only a ‘once-in-a-few-months’ type of thing. You let him in, even if you haven't heard from him in six weeks and he’s practically bleeding out on your doorstep. That was also the problem— the issue of inconveniencing you. He always dropped in at the worst times, usually when you were all sleepy as you wiped down his gashes with the best concentration you can. What if you were only dealing with him for the sake of it? He couldn't deny the possibility of this being true— the fact of him taking advantage of your kindness. It tore him apart more than the ache that begged for you, pulling him in two directions with no middle ground to save him.

Until a mission comes around, a bad one— a really bad one. The B.O.W lays in the rubble, a sickly acid oozing from its weakened form and it’s clear these are its last breaths now. There’s a plank of metal through its chest, its eyes destroyed by grenades Leon’s hands had dealt. However, instead of relief, he only reciprocated the distress of the bioweapon. A particularly nasty wound had his head dizzy, barely stumbling his way to your porch and knocking weakly at your door. He can barely open his mouth to speak, his eyes weak as you gasp, stilling for a split second before immediately hoisting his arm over your shoulder and ushering him inside. Blood dripped on the hardwood floor as you led him through, this time not to your couch but to your bedroom. It would be easier this way, especially since it was so close to his abdomen and having him laying flat would be great. “I-it’s not that bad..” He can't help but feel bad when you rush around the room like this, grabbing all your first aid things as quickly as possible. Usually he’d come for a patch up— not to save him before he fainted from blood loss.

“It is!“ You squeak out, back at his side and gently pushing his chest down to lay properly on the bed. It’s a matter of seconds before you have his shirt cut open, working quickly to clean the bloody skin before slipping the thread through the needle. He winces painfully as it pokes his skin, his eyebrows scrunching all the while your breaths are hitched nervously.

“Y-you’re gonna kill me..” He complains, with a groan, hoping to lighten the mood even with the current situation— it’s not like he hasn’t tried to rile you up before. It’s his love language, he can't help his nature. Even so, he’s seen you handle worse before, even having wrapped an emergency tourniquet when you got caught up in an ambush. But this, seeing him tremble, scared you— enough for your hands to tremble as you wrap a firm bandage over him. You let out a long breath, eventually rolling your eyes at his remark. “Would you prefer to bleed out all over my favourite duvet?” He lets out a little chuckle as he pushes himself up with wheezed breaths to lean against the pillows you fluffed for him. “I think I already did that part.”

The air is quiet as you clean up his blood, your rag turning a murky red. He watches you from the bed, eyes a little more awake now that the pain has eased a bit. It’s warm, on your bed, your thick duvet draped comfortably over his battered body as you stiffly place his clothes into the washing machine along with yours that had gotten drenched in his crimson. “I wish i could help you.. it doesnt feel right forcing you to clean up after me like this.” He has to cough to clear his throat, voice a little rusty. You blink up at him though, shaking your head gently as you approach the bed with water. “Only you would complain about someone taking care of you when you need it.” It’s accompanied with a half hearted smile, your eyes holding relief for his safe state.

“Hey—I’m trying to be nice. If I could, I would help you.” He mumbles out, clearly noticing the way your hand lingered as you place the water bottle on the table beside where he lays, pulling away after a few moments. “I know Leon, i know.”

He watches you finally clear up everything, before settling at the foot of the bed with your little sketchpad again. He noticed you with it in the rare moments you had free time at the DSO, always focused on it as you scribbled down little things. Once you let him sneak a peek and it was usually landscapes you’d seen when you were on field, or ones that agents described. It was a hobby that started to die out until you quit, choosing to let that be your salvation than to be another happy thing to bury for the sake of work.

“You should get some sleep, you look tired..” You’ve been doing this every time he comes around now, always sitting somewhat near him with that black book in your hands. “Cant, i’m sketchin.” You hum out, shuffling around on the bed to face him as you continue. He raises a brow at that, confused but his hands move back to adjust the pillows behind him.

“You can sketch in the morning you know.”

“Then my subject will move, and it wont look the same.”

Now he’s fully staring at you, the implications of your words not lost on him and he almost shoots to sit up straight if not for the fact of the pain running through his body. “You’ve been drawing me.. every time i come round?”

“Yeah, gotta take note of all your injuries for later.”

He gives you a look, as if calling you out on your lame excuse right then and there. “So you cant just i dont know, write it down? Take a photo?”

This time you roll your eyes up at him and come to sit a little nearer on the bed rather than near his feet. “Well then i couldn’t do this, could i?”

You turn the page around, showing him the sketched version of him who now wears an exaggerated frown as he stares out. You’ve got a knack for drawing him, the way his hair falls slightly over his eyes and even the bridge if his nose— it’s impressive. “I do not frown like that.” You let out a laugh, giggling at his reaction as you turn the sketchbook around again and carry on, all the while his mind is still stuck on the fact that you’ve been drawing him over and over.

“Guess i’m a pretty good reference then, if you’re always drawing me?” He tilts his head towards you and you snicker again, waving him off. “Dont get cocky, you’re alright.”

“Cocky? I bet i’m the only thing you draw. C’mon, rate me out of ten, theres no way i get lower than 9.”

He watches you shuffle closer to him, leaving your sketchbook to the side as you sit right by him on the bed. You begin to narrow your eyes at him, scrutinising his appearance and he’s half tempted to cower beneath your judgement. “You get.. 1 point for your hair, it’s a nice colour, but it is a little messy.” He immediately frowns at you and sits up just a little straighter than before. “I’m an agent, not a model. And I just got a drop kicked by a bioweapon. Cut me some slack.” He huffs out but you only shrug again, eyes moving towards his face instead as you cross your legs. “Hey, you asked for a rating. It’s super duper important in art you know?”

”That’s a load of crap and you know it.”

“Well, you get another point for your eyes; They’re a nice shade of blue. Also another for your nose, it curves nicely.” He raises a brow, wondering how he’s racking up so many points so quickly and he cocks his head. “You flatter me, i’ll be at ten by the time you get to my hands.” He winks cheekily, a proud grin stretching his lips wide. “Not so fast, i never said it was out of ten— 25 is the limit.”

You continue your little game, Leon scoffing as you don’t give him any points for his ‘very strong biceps’ as he says; you can only shrug, just wanting to rile him up till he pouts again. He lets you rate his body though, smirking in a cocky way as you even go as far to compliment his hands but even more so at his muscled torso— he knows you cant resist. “So how many points are we at?” He hums, enjoying the way you’ve slowly gravitated closer to him as you ramble and mumble about his features, something that's probably considered nerdy but plenty cute to watch. “I think having strong calves leaves you at… 22. That’s pretty good.”

Your lips pull wide, grinning at him and expecting him to be just as happy but instead he only gives you a short huff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Only 22? I’m not taking anything less than 24, there must be some redeeming qualities.” You roll your eyes up at him, though keeping a good eye on his torso incase of any tear of the stitches.

“Okay fine, you can get one for your biceps. Happy?”

“Nope.”

You groan, sit up straight and ogle him, eyeing him like you’re the hawk and he’s the prey, squirming beneath you uncomfortably. “Fine. You get one more.”

“Oh? I knew it.”

“You have a very huggable waist.” You giggle, snickering as you playfully plant your hands on his hips, watching something flicker through his eyes before they grow just as mischievous. “Oh? Wanna test that out?” It was a joke, or maybe it wasn't, but you didn't mind and he sure as hell didn't either. It’s stupid, and messy, the way he pulls you in for a hug and your arms are as tight as they can be around him, cheek squished against his chest.

“I was right.”

That laugh of yours is enough to make him crumble, make him want to spill every thought inside his head. The nights he wishes he was enough of a man for you, the nights he wishes he had the courage to be the one to comfort you when you quit your job, or even the day he heard someone else soothe you when you cried over another patient.

He snaps out of his thoughts, and returns the hug, his fingers lightly tickling your sides to make you squirm and scramble back, giggling all the way. “Sooo, that’s gotta be like 25 now right?”

“Nope still 24.” He groans again, and if he’s being honest he is exhausted right now, but he’d let himself bleed out tonight if it meant seeing you laugh like that again. He’s sick of sitting back and waiting for this, waiting for you to see through him, waiting for every time he’s injured to look for excuses. “How can i get the last point?” Blue eyes lock onto your face, the wrinkle of your nose and the furrow of your brows as you think, tapping your chin playfully. He knows you’re tired too, the weight in your eyes is visible but not as bad as the lack of spark in your last month at the DSO. “You have to earn it.”

Is this his chance? He could tell you all his redeeming qualities. Like how he could hold you with one hand, how his skills were unmatched to others, the feats he’s achieved. Or he could explain his care for you: how he’d protect you from any horror that came your way, how he’d kill anything that came near to harming you, how he’d quell any worry that neared your head– that he’d die for you.

You’re still sitting before him, looking at him with curious eyes as he leans forward, crossing the small distance left between the two of you. His hand reaches up, swallowing the curve of your warm cheeks as he stares at you, properly. Your noses would brush if he went any closer, he could just kiss you right now and he’d have you in the palm of his hand– even more so than he does right now. He wants you, and he wants you to want him.

“I love you,” The words slip out, intentional yet reckless all the same, a promise made that he’s not sure he can keep but he knows he’ll rather die trying than to never feel it. “And.. i’ll do anything you ask of me to prove it to you.”

It’s like slow motion the way your pupils dilate, swirling with an emotion he’s never witnessed in you before and he takes it as a good sign, his thumb gently brushing the skin below your lips. He looks at you, a silent question in his eyes, waiting for a sign of rejection, acceptance or even hesitation. You nod quietly, your hands are awkward, not knowing where to place themselves and it makes him chuckle, loving the way you falter when it comes to him. He leans in, lips pressing against your nose first just to watch the way you blink, a wide grin widening on your face in surprise before he leans in properly, hand tightening around your cheek.

“Do I get the last point now?” He asks, still enamoured by how you’re breathless, more so in shock of his confession than the short lived kiss, though that was captivating all the same. Your hand copies his motion, cupping his cheek as you lean in more fervently, capturing his lips in yours. When you finally break away you’re gasping for air, arms slung around his neck as you stare at his eyes, a pretty shade of blue. “Yeah, you’re a 25 out of 25, Leon. I wouldn't expect anything less from you.”

The reciprocation of the kiss is enough for his heart to go crazy in your palms; his cheeks lift as he grins wider and pulls you in for a proper hug, a soft kiss to your forehead for good measure. “Does this mean i cani come by without the injuries now? Just for the sake of it?”

“You always could, Leon.” You hug him back just as tight, giggling as he squirms at your eyelashes flittering against his neck. Eventually you settle him to lay down properly, with you curled around his being. His arm is weakly around your shoulders, head sunk into the pillows as he lets out a long sigh. You can only listen to the quiet thump of a content heart, your hand tracing shapes on his chest as you tenderly watch his wound, worrying about it tearing.

“Sorry for scaring you.” He murmurs quietly and you can only shake your head tiredly, craning your head up to meet his eyes again. “You’re stuck here for the next three days. Doctors orders.”

He chuckles at that, even more so as your hand reaches upwards, rubbing his jaw gently before scratching at his scalp. He returns the action, rubbing your shoulder gently as your face presses against his muscles. “Alright, alright. I can't deny that now can i?”

Bonus:

It’s his third day here, but also a Friday too. He’s still not fully healed of course, the wound still a little worrying but nothing your heart cant handle. Especially when he’s carefully looked after in your hands—- literally. The morning sun peeks through the gaps in the curtains, making you rise although not fully, still half awake as you glance over. He’s got an arm behind his head, lips parted as he drools a little, and he looks so, so relaxed. The strain of his muscles have slackened, his face looking softer, younger even, as he breathes gently. Most of all, his hand is loose around your back, fingers poking into your waist.

You cant resist, leaning upwards to his sleepy face and pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his cheek. It’s the first time he’s ever been caught off guard, his brows twitching in confusion and he lets out another small huff, head turning in your direction as if to seek you out. It’s adorable really, and you mourn all the years you two havent been together, havent experienced this before. It’s okay, because you have the rest of eternity for the two of you— doctors orders.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader

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starryhyuck · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: challengers!johnjae x afab!reader

words: 3.5k+

summary: johnny suh and jeong jaehyun are determined to prove their worth to you in this year’s tennis competition. you all end up receiving more than you expected.

genre: smut

warnings: there is some mlm johnjae so please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with that, double penetration, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, talks of creampies, three way make out

thank you for 9.5k followers!!

“Your serve is fucking insane.”

You hum noncommittally, fingers tightening around your bottle to spray more water into your mouth. You wipe the sweat from your brow as Donghyuck continues to eye you with amazement.

“You do know that ball boys don’t usually get to talk to the players, right?” You comment, a little perturbed by how easy it is for the younger man to approach you.

His eyes continue to sparkle despite your demeaning remark. Unbeknownst to you, Donghyuck signed up to become the tennis team’s lackey just to be able to see you in action.

You were the crown jewel of the university’s tennis program, having been recruited from the early stages of your high school career. Much speculation occurred at your decision to go to college first instead of turning to a professional career. You insisted to your parents that your education was still important despite your only shining skill being the ability to hit a ball with a racket. You slaved away most of your hours on this court, practicing to become the next best tennis player South Korea has ever seen.

“I’m looking forward to your match on Saturday,” Donghyuck says, eagerly handing you another tennis ball when you outstretch your palm to him.

Your eyebrow quirks up at the mention. The Korea Open kicked off this weekend and the press was convinced you would gain another title under your belt. You normally don’t enjoy goading them on, but you have a good feeling about the tournament this year.

“Scatter, pea brain,” Suyeon hisses when she approaches you two, flicking Donghyuck’s ear. The boy grumbles before returning to his place near the wall. Once he’s out of earshot, Suyeon turns her attention back to you. She’s dressed in one of her tightest skirts, indicating she has plans set in motion for tonight. “Are you ready to go yet?”

You shake your head at her inquiry. “I’m not done. Go ahead without me.”

She whines pitifully, clutching your arm tightly. “I can’t! You know I get much more attention when I walk in with you.”

You sigh. Suyeon has been chattering nonstop to you about all of the players who have flown in for the games this week. Tonight was the first party hosted by your university to welcome them, and your roommate took that as a green light to snag one of the tennis players for herself.

“I still need to practice my backhand-“

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg? Because I’ll do it.”

To prevent Suyeon from embarrassing herself even further, you hoist her arm and tug her away. She rejoices when you zip up your racket and bid your goodbyes to the remaining staff on the court. You do your best to ignore Donghyuck’s cheerful holler after you.

When you ask Suyeon if you can simply wear your practice gear, she throws you a disgusted look and quickly tugs you back to your shared dorm to change. You allow her to play dress up as she wants, wrapping your figure into a body hugging dress from the back of your closet. As soon as she deems you decent enough for the party, she hauls you over to the university’s lounge, where tonight’s events will be taking place.

Your first thought when you enter the party is that you would much rather be on the court. Just as Suyeon predicted, every eye turns to you when you step inside.

Whispers of tennis prodigy echo around the room and you try your best not to roll your eyes. Suyeon, on the other hand, basks in your popularity and bats her eyes towards the players that begin to approach the both of you. You decide to dodge the awkward conversation, excusing yourself to grab a refreshment.

It’s in the midst of downing a lemonade when you feel a presence linger behind you.

You turn to see none other than Johnny Suh and Jeong Jaehyun, the winners of last year’s doubles title. You heard that Jaehyun had enrolled into the same university as you while Johnny opted to go professional.

Despite the distance, the two seem closer than ever. And tonight, they stare at you like you’re their last meal.

“Hi,” you greet with an eyebrow raised.

Johnny speaks first, saying your name with a devilish grin. “We were wondering if we would see you here.”

He starts to introduce himself and Jaehyun, but you hold out a hand to stop him.

“I know who you are. I watched you two crush it at last year’s match,” you say, humming while you refill your glass. Jaehyun’s eyebrow ticks up at the revelation while Johnny’s smirk widens. “I’m guessing you’re both back to defend your title?”

“That, and to prove we’re just as good in the singles,” Johnny answers. You swallow a laugh at his unwavering confidence.

“I see you practice on the court sometimes,” Jaehyun says, diverting the topic of conversation back to you. “You’re incredible — I’ve never seen a backhand like yours.”

You smile at him, thanking him for the compliment. Jaehyun was definitely the more timid one of the pair, while you could tell Johnny led most of their conversations.

You feel like you’re in the lion’s den, with Johnny ready to pounce and Jaehyun waiting for permission to do the same.

Luckily, Suyeon rushes over and becomes your unknowing savior. Her hand wraps around your upper arm and she whines pitifully in your ear.

“SOS! SOS!”

“What is it?” You ask, eyes still remaining on the two men in front of you. Johnny’s fingers are slowly tightening around his glass and you wonder if he has the strength to break it. Jaehyun holds his a little more delicately, but you can see him clenching his fist behind his back.

You imagine one of them tangling their hands through your hair while the other wraps his around your neck.

“I don’t know anything about tennis,” Suyeon sighs, bringing you out from your lewd fantasy. “Come and help me, please?”

You smile at the two players, setting your glass down on a nearby table.

“Apologies, boys. Duty calls.”

You feel the weight of their stare follow you as you walk over to help Suyeon battle tennis talk.

You ponder if they’re desperate enough to stay behind for you.

—

You receive your answer later in the night.

As soon as Suyeon is all set for a lovely evening with a pretty player named Yuju, you start to make your way to the exit. You’ve had enough social interaction for one event, but two figures lingering by the door makes you second guess that decision.

Jaehyun adjusts his posture when he catches sight of you while Johnny leans casually against the wall, trying to make it seem as if he’s not affected by your appearance.

“You’re still here,” you hum, folding your arms across your chest. Both pairs of eyes quickly dart down to the swell of your breasts before moving upwards, acting like they weren’t just checking you out.

“Party’s too fun,” Johnny bites, sarcasm flooding his tone.

“I’m sure,” you chuckle dryly.

“Is your friend all good to go?” Jaehyun asks, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he genuinely wants to know the answer.

You smile at him. “Yes, I was able to rescue her from the awful tennis small talk.”

Johnny kicks off from his position against the wall, approaching you with determination. Jaehyun eyes him carefully, and you realize from their body language that they have done this dance before. You think about how many other girls have fallen into their open trap.

“Well, maybe tennis talk isn’t all that bad. Especially in a quieter setting.”

Johnny reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his spare key set to one of the dorms the university is housing them in. He dangles them in front of your face, and you drink in his smug expression and Jaehyun’s anxious anticipation at your answer.

You tilt your head teasingly. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

Johnny shrugs. “Nothing wrong with a few tennis players strategizing before the match, right?”

Against your better judgment, you follow the two back to their dorm. You ignore the way Johnny’s fingers brush against the back of your thigh as he walks behind you and how Jaehyun’s hand continuously knocks into yours, pinky fingers brushing by each other. They clearly have set motives for the night and you would be lying if you said your mouth isn’t foaming at the idea of taking them both at once.

Jaehyun unlocks the door for you both, and Johnny keeps a steady hand on your lower back as he guides you in. As you expected, the university set them up in a double room, with separate twin beds pressed against each wall.

Before you can comment on the size of the room, a hand snakes around your middle, pulling you against Johnny’s backside. His fingers brush your hair to the side, pressing kisses against your exposed neck. Jaehyun has fallen to his knees in front of you, pushing up the fabric of your dress so he can catch a glimpse of your panties.

You make no moves to stop either of them, hands intertwining with Johnny’s as he continues his assault on your throat. You faintly register that you’ll have to cover up his marks before your match tomorrow, but Jaehyun nipping you at your thighs brings you out of your thoughts.

“So you’ve done this before?” You confirm while Johnny’s hands harshly squeeze your hips.

“Maybe,” Johnny hums teasingly, drawing out the last syllable. “But no one as pretty as you.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at his cheesy retort. You look down to see Jaehyun staring up at you, eyes filled with unbridled lust. You stroke his cheek gently and giggle.

“Are you waiting for permission?”

Johnny chuckles from behind you. “He’s waiting for you to sit on his face, sweet girl.”

Your eyebrow quirks up in surprise. Multiple exclamation marks pop up in your head but you’re not one to hesitate if someone is willingly offering to provide you an orgasm, so you bunch up your dress to your waist and hover over Jaehyun’s mouth. Johnny helps you in the process, pulling your underwear to the side and guiding your hips until Jaehyun’s tongue brushes against your folds. You gasp at the feeling and Jaehyun wastes no time diving into you, eagerly eating your cunt like his life depends on it.

Johnny’s hands have wandered to the straps of your dress, pulling it down and fondling your breasts. His fingers roll over your nipples, hardened and peaked from the intense foreplay.

He whispers in your ear, playing the devil on your shoulder. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Jae loves it when it’s sloppy like this, loves to feel his mouth being used.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, catching the implication in his tone that Johnny has been in your spot before. “He likes it better when you tug on his hair like this,” Johnny says as he guides your hand to Jaehyun’s head, allowing you to pull the strands. “It lets him know he’s doing a good job.”

Jaehyun’s lips swallow every drop of essence your pussy grants him. He seems to be thoroughly enjoying the experience, hands grabbing your ass and pulling you deeper onto him.

It’s not long before you’re completely riding Jaehyun’s face, desperately pushing yourself back and forth on his mouth in pursuit of your orgasm. You whimper when his tongue flicks over your clit, teasing the nub until you’re begging for him to make you cum.

“Please, please,” you whine, fingers tugging on his hair harshly. “Wanna cum, Jae, please.”

“Let the princess get what she wants,” Johnny says to Jaehyun. “Can’t have the tennis prodigy all wound up before her big match.”

Jaehyun follows Johnny’s orders, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking until your orgasm hits you. You cry and ride out your high until your thighs start shaking. Johnny’s arms hoist you up and before you know it, he’s throwing you onto one of the beds in your post-orgasm haze. You hear the clinking of belts and a hand wraps around your throat, squeezing gently.

“Sit up, pretty girl. Want to see my cock slide down your throat,” Jaehyun whispers to you. His mouth is still covered in the remnants of your orgasm, and he casually licks his lips to capture some of the taste.

Johnny slides in to your left as you sit up, feet dangling over the side of the twin bed. You pull your dress off, flinging it across the room. With Jaehyun on your right, you give him your attention first. Your hand trails down his stomach until you’re gently grasping his cock, pulling him from the confines of his briefs. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, long and pink with pre-cum gushing from the tip. You can’t believe he was this hard the entire time he ate you out.

Your head turns to Johnny, who is smirking down at you. His fingers are already wrapped around his base, pumping slowly while he watches you. He’s thicker than Jaehyun but equally as aroused. You replace his hand with yours, mimicking his previous motions.

You find a rhythm between the two, alternating between sucking one cock and stroking the other, and switching before one of them can complain about the lack of attention. Johnny’s hand possessively grips your hair while Jaehyun keeps a solid pinch at the nape of your neck, keeping you steady.

“What a nice picture this would make,” Johnny laughs sinisterly, observing as you lick him from his base to his tip. “Maybe we should commemorate this moment, Jae. They could put it up in the Hall of Fame.”

“What? Right over a plaque that says best cocksucker?” Jaehyun chuckles. “Add best pussy too while you’re at it. Never tasted a cunt so sweet.”

You ignore their degrading comments, too enraptured in taking their cocks down your throat as best as you can. Just the thought of having them both inside you is enough to make you clench your thighs, chasing friction as slick drips from your cunt.

“Hm, wonder what the little princess is thinking about,” Johnny murmurs. “Maybe what it would be like to take two cocks at once?”

You whimper around Jaehyun’s length, his tip hitting the back of your throat. Jaehyun clicks his tongue, giving two experimental thrusts that has you gagging.

“Selfish of her,” Jaehyun comments to Johnny. “Wants all the attention for herself, on and off the court.”

“Let’s not make her wait any longer then.”

You cough a little when Jaehyun pulls himself out of your mouth. Johnny tugs on your hair harshly until you’re facing him. He leans down to press his lips to yours, tongues fighting for dominance as he pushes you back down on the bed. You clutch the back of his neck, hungrily kissing him until you’re gasping for breath.

They adjust your body so Jaehyun lies underneath you, cock prodding at your waiting hole. Johnny hovers above you, spitting at your pussy and pushing two fingers into your waiting heat.

You mewl at the intrusion and Johnny grins. “Just as I predicted, Jae, still wet and ready for us.”

When he pulls his digits out, you release a croaky laugh.

“So which one of you plans on taking home the singles trophy tomorrow?”

You feel them eye each other at your question, both lining themselves up to sink into you.

“The best man will win,” Jaehyun mumbles in your ear, not sounding so confident in his answer.

You smile, sensing an open opportunity to encourage some harmless fun. You can already picture the two of them tomorrow — sweaty and desperate to prove themselves as the best. The thought of them being so competitive for the title causes more slick to gush from your pussy.

“How about this then — tonight, you both have to pull out. But tomorrow, whoever wins the title gets to cum deep inside me,” you drawl, watching as Johnny’s eyes cloud over and feeling Jaehyun’s hands tighten around your waist. “And I’ll wear your cum in my panties all day to show everyone who I belong to.”

The idea of them staking a claim on you drives them into a frenzy. You whine when they both push into your cunt, fighting for the tight space between their ridiculously large cocks. You collapse onto Jaehyun’s front, head falling against his shoulder.

“Slut,” Johnny growls at you. “That’s how it’s going to be, hm? Pretty princess wants cum dripping down her legs as she practices her backhand?”

Jaehyun groans in your ear. “Fuck, I want to see that so badly.”

Your mind is drawing a blank, heat filling your stomach as the both of them continue to press into you.

Jaehyun chuckles. “Maybe we didn’t think this through, John. Looks like her pussy can’t even fit the both of us.”

“Maybe you’re right, Jae.”

When they start to pull out, your head whips up with an unmatched fury.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“There she is,” Johnny smirks. “Princess wants us to break her pretty pussy, is that it?”

Your competitive nature flares up. “Trust me, I can take it.”

Johnny and Jaehyun exchange another round of looks and eyebrow raises. You feel utterly unprepared when Jaehyun plants his feet on the bed and Johnny situates his knees, his hands grabbing your thighs. They begin a furious pace, with Jaehyun roughly thrusting upwards and Johnny railing you until your head hits the wall.

You nearly scream, convinced that the neighboring dorms are going to file noise complaints by the end of the night.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss at the feeling of two cocks driving into you.

You feel completely full as they stretch you out. Johnny’s hand comes down to your clit to try and ease some of the pain. You crumble when the pain ebbs into waves of pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“There you go,” Jaehyun coos in your ear. “Just let us take care of you, baby.”

Two fingers slide into your mouth and you clutch Jaehyun’s wrist, gagging on his digits.

“Can’t wait to cum inside this tight cunt tomorrow,” Johnny grunts.

You hear Jaehyun scoff and give another harsh thrust, almost knocking you against the wall again. You blubber on his fingers but he doesn’t seem to mind the drool slipping down his wrist.

“What makes you think you’ll be the sure winner?” Jaehyun asks between throaty groans.

Johnny chuckles at the question. “Come on, Jae. You can’t be serious.”

“And if I was?”

Your orgasm hits you without warning and you cry, back arching and thighs shaking from the intense pleasure. You have to blink a few times before regaining your senses, and you’re surprised by what you find when you can finally see clearly.

Johnny’s lips are locked with Jaehyun’s, their tongues fighting for dominance in a messy kiss. They’re both still pounding into you albeit at a slower pace, suddenly enraptured by one another as Johnny’s hand moves from your clit to tangle into Jaehyun’s hair. The latter moans underneath you, removing his fingers from your mouth to lazily grab a handful of your breast as you remain sandwiched between them.

You didn’t think it was possible, but you grow more aroused at the sight. Filthy squelching sounds fill the room and your body starts to overheat from the constant stimulation.

Johnny’s eyes drift over to lock with yours, and he smirks into Jaehyun’s mouth at the sight of you. He pulls away from Jaehyun, who eagerly chases after him. Johnny cups your cheek and attaches his lips to yours, tugging Jaehyun along in the process. The three of you engage in one of the sloppiest make out sessions you’ve ever experienced, combined with a mixture of tongues and breathy gasps.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Jaehyun suddenly mumbles.

Johnny nods. “Me too. Let’s paint her body, shall we?”

You whine when they pull out of you, furiously stroking their cocks until they find release. You’re mesmerized at the sight of them climaxing, grunting harshly and coloring your stomach with ropes and ropes of their cum.

You collapse into a pile of bones and you feel them start to lick your neck, earnestly tasting the sweat dripping down from your face. You giggle at their unique form of aftercare.

“It seems like-“ you hiss when Johnny squeezes your breast again before continuing. “It seems like you two used up all of your energy. Do you think either one of you still has a chance tomorrow?”

Jaehyun laughs. “Don’t worry about us, baby.”

“Because we’re planning on cumming inside of this sweet cunt for the whole world to see, whether you like it or not,” Johnny finishes.

You swallow at their predatory gazes, shock traveling up your spine when you realize their cocks are already half-hard again.

You’re in big trouble.

#nct smut #johnny #jaehyun #johnny smut #jaehyun smut

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dandelionsresilience · 1 year ago

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Good News - July 22-28

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!

1. Four new cheetah cubs born in Saudi Arabia after 40 years of extinction

“[T]he discovery of mummified cheetahs in caves […] which ranged in age from 4,000 to as recent as 120 years, proved that the animals […] once called [Saudi Arabia] home. The realisation kick-started the country’s Cheetah Conservation Program to bring back the cats to their historic Arabian range. […] Dr Mohammed Qurban, CEO of the NCW, said: […] “This motivates us to continue our efforts to restore and reintroduce cheetahs, guided by an integrated strategy designed in accordance with best international practices.””

2. In sub-Saharan Africa, ‘forgotten’ foods could boost climate resilience, nutrition

“[A study published in PNAS] examined “forgotten” crops that may help make sub-Saharan food systems more resilient, and more nutritious, as climate change makes it harder to grow [current staple crops.] [… The study identified 138 indigenous] food crops that were “relatively underresearched, underutilized, or underpromoted in an African context,” but which have the nutrient content and growing stability to support healthy diets and local economies in the region. […] In Eswatini, van Zonneveld and the World Vegetable Center are working with schools to introduce hardy, underutilized vegetables to their gardens, which have typically only grown beans and maize.”

3. Here's how $4 billion in government money is being spent to reduce climate pollution

“[New Orleans was awarded] nearly $50 million to help pay for installing solar on low to middle income homes [… and] plans to green up underserved areas with trees and build out its lackluster bike lane system to provide an alternative to cars. […] In Utah, $75 million will fund several measures from expanding electric vehicles to reducing methane emissions from oil and gas production. [… A] coalition of states led by North Carolina will look to store carbon in lands used for agriculture as well as natural places like wetlands, with more than $400 million. [… This funding is] “providing investments in communities, new jobs, cost savings for everyday Americans, improved air quality, … better health outcomes.””

4. From doom scrolling to hope scrolling: this week’s big Democratic vibe shift

“[Democrats] have been on an emotional rollercoaster for the past few weeks: from grim determination as Biden fought to hang on to his push for a second term, to outright exuberance after he stepped aside and Harris launched her campaign. […] In less than a week, the Harris campaign raised record-breaking sums and signed up more than 100,000 new volunteers[….] This honeymoon phase will end, said Democratic strategist Guy Cecil, warning the election will be a close race, despite this newfound exuberance in his party. [… But v]oters are saying they are excited to vote for Harris and not just against Trump. That’s new.”

5. Biodegradable luminescent polymers show promise for reducing electronic waste

“[A team of scientists discovered that a certain] chemical enables the recycling of [luminescent polymers] while maintaining high light-emitting functions. […] At the end of life, this new polymer can be degraded under either mild acidic conditions (near the pH of stomach acid) or relatively low heat treatment (> 410 F). The resulting materials can be isolated and remade into new materials for future applications. […] The researchers predict this new polymer can be applied to existing technologies, such as displays and medical imaging, and enable new applications […] such as cell phones and computer screens with continued testing.”

6. World’s Biggest Dam Removal Project to Open 420 Miles of Salmon Habitat this Fall

“Reconnecting the river will help salmon and steelhead populations survive a warming climate and [natural disasters….] In the long term, dam removal will significantly improve water quality in the Klamath. “Algae problems in the reservoirs behind the dams were so bad that the water was dangerous for contact […] and not drinkable,” says Fluvial Geomorphologist Brian Cluer. [… The project] will begin to reverse decades of habitat degradation, allow threatened salmon species to be resilient in the face of climate change, and restore tribal connections to their traditional food source.”

7. Biden-Harris Administration Awards $45.1 Million to Expand Mental Health and Substance Use Services Across the Lifespan

““Be it fostering wellness in young people, caring for the unhoused, facilitating treatment and more, this funding directly supports the needs of our neighbors,” said HHS Secretary Xavier Becerra. [The funding also supports] recovery and reentry services to adults in the criminal justice system who have a substance use disorder[… and clinics which] serve anyone who asks for help for mental health or substance use, regardless of their ability to pay.”

8. The World’s Rarest Crow Will Soon Fly Free on Maui

“[… In] the latest attempt to establish a wild crow population, biologists will investigate if this species can thrive on Maui, an island where it may have never lived before. Translocations outside of a species’ known historical range are rare in conservation work, but for a bird on the brink of extinction, it’s a necessary experiment: Scientists believe the crows will be safer from predators in a new locale—a main reason that past reintroduction attempts failed. […] As the release date approaches, the crows have already undergone extensive preparation for life in the wild. […] “We try to give them the respect that you would give if you were caring for someone’s elder.””

9. An optimist’s guide to the EV battery mining challenge

““Battery minerals have a tremendous benefit over oil, and that’s that you can reuse them.” [… T]he report’s authors found there’s evidence to suggest that [improvements in technology] and recycling have already helped limit demand for battery minerals in spite of this rapid growth — and that further improvements can reduce it even more. [… They] envision a scenario in which new mining for battery materials can basically stop by 2050, as battery recycling meets demand. In this fully realized circular battery economy, the world must extract a total of 125 million tons of battery minerals — a sum that, while hefty, is actually 17 times smaller than the oil currently harvested every year to fuel road transport.”

10. Peekaboo! A baby tree kangaroo debuts at the Bronx Zoo

“The tiny Matschie’s tree kangaroo […] was the third of its kind born at the Bronx Zoo since 2008. [… A] Bronx Zoo spokesperson said that the kangaroo's birth was significant for the network of zoos that aims to preserve genetic diversity among endangered animals. "It's a small population and because of that births are not very common," said Jessica Moody, curator of primates and small mammals at the Bronx Zoo[, …] adding that baby tree kangaroos are “possibly one of the cutest animals to have ever lived. They look like stuffed animals, it's amazing.””

July 15-21 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

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irisintheafterglow · 2 months ago

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bllk vs u-20 game spoilers.

there's a pit in your stomach as you wait with the rest of the blue lock 11's family members in one of the stadium's many concrete passageways. the group around you is humming with anticipation, but all you can do is hug your arms close to your torso and try to remember to breathe, even if it's shaky. anri had reached out to close family and friends of the players as soon as the game against the u-20 team was confirmed, and you were among the few who received comp tickets (probably in exchange for giving up your boyfriend for several months).

no one would think you and rin were together, and you knew damn well that he wasn't going to be sharing his relationship status with anyone he interacted with in the program; it took a whole year for him to open up to you about his history with sae. those on the outside must've thought he was blackmailing you to stay together, but only you two knew that you were his closest confidant, his steadiest rock, and the one who stayed even when soccer took the place of any form of sustenance.

a door opens around the corner.

here they come.

the first person to bound forward and leap into the crowd is the monster dribbler, bachira. he all but tackles a woman in a long coat that you recognized as sitting a few rows in front of you. next comes the redhead runner who was subbed out in the first part of the second half--chigiri. he's immediately enveloped in a swath of two matching, vibrantly scarlet heads of hair, cooing about how he was all grown up and how they were so proud. soon, the rest of the players--otoya with the green stripe in his hair, karasu with a casually disarming grin, nagi and reo moving as one unit--greet their families and friends. the embraces make you nauseous, the joy in their smiles are pushing you toward a panic attack. where was he? the kick rin had taken to the face felt like your world stopped, but he recovered quick enough for spectators to think he was unharmed.

"e-excuse me?" you lightly tap the shoulder of the match's hero, isagi. he'd been the only one to see--no, predict--that rin would surpass sae, which gave him the opening to score the final goal. your face burns from shame as isagi and his parents turn to look at you kindly, while you're practically shrinking into one of rin's jerseys. "that last goal was a wonderful shot. great job," you offer. he beams when you praise him and nods enthusiastically.

"thanks! i'm really excited for the next---"

"i'm sorry," you cut in sheepishly, and he pauses, tilting his head to the side curiously. his eyes flick down to the silver 'R' dangling by a chain on your neck. "do you know where, um, where rin is?" you say, and an odd look crosses isagi's face.

"yeah, he was..." isagi hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "he's not really in the best mood, even though we just won. he's kind of brooding, if you can call it that. i don't know if anyone should be talking to him."

"i know that," you reply, bristling a little impatiently. you know better than anyone the mental state he was in right now, which was why you needed to be there for him. "sorry...i just don't want him to be alone right now." isagi blinks once, then twice, before turning back to his parents, who were watching the exchange with a strange amount of sympathy.

"i'll be back," he tells them. "i'm gonna go grab rin from the locker room. i'll say someone's here for him."

"he's gonna refuse initially," you warn isagi before he leaves. your fingers brush the solitary letter hanging on your skin. "if he's stubborn about it, tell him the penguin charm fell off my necklace."

"inside joke?"

"inside joke," you clarify with a sad smile. isagi nods dutifully.

"got it."

a few minutes later, most of the players and their families had filed out of the hallway toward the meeting room, where the stadium was serving an assortment of dinner entrees. they could catch up, share stories, and have this one night of relaxation before the next phase of the project began. word had somehow spread around that you were rin's partner; bachira and hiori were almost begging to hear the stories you had about him as they tried to drag you to dinner. you politely told them you'd be up in a bit, and they settle for escorting isagi's parents instead. then, you're alone in the hallway until isagi returns with your boyfriend in tow.

"i'll be over here if you guys need anything," he says lowly to you as he passes, positioning himself a respectful distance away while your attention finally turns completely to rin.

he stands two steps away, hands shoved in the pockets of his joggers. he won't look at you.

"hi," you breathe, willing his eyes to meet yours. "rin?" no answer, only another step toward you, but not close enough to touch. he was, at this moment, completely unreadable to you; you couldn't tell what he needed, and you weren't sure if he knew, either. "please look at me." he takes a slow inhale through his nose and exhales unevenly through his mouth. your shirt catches his eye and he looks anywhere but your face.

"that's mine."

"mhmm, i've been waiting to wear it since you left," you tell him gently.

"looks good. on you." he's exhausted--mind, body, and soul. you coax his walls to come down bit by bit, even when every second you're not touching him feels like torture. you reach out to brush a strand of hair from his eyes, but he catches your wrist before you make contact, and you flinch.

maybe you misjudged what he needed. maybe he was going to push you away, too. maybe he was past a point you couldn't follow, somewhere he didn't need you anymore.

his eyes finally meet yours and say all you need to hear.

i'd never.

he holds your wrist there before slowly guiding your fingers to cup his face, leaning into you with a sigh. as soon as your skin is against his, it's like his body wakes itself up via lightning strike. in one breath, he's grabbing your hips and pulling you as close as humanly possible. your arms snake around his neck while his head falls forward onto your shoulder. his embrace is tight, but somehow you're not close enough to him.

"shit," rin croaks into your neck. you can feel the grief shrouded underneath his wrath, a boiling pot of emotions reserved for only his older brother. it didn't matter that blue lock was victorious; in this fight between the itoshi brothers, sae was still the superior sibling (at least, in the world's eyes). you can't think of any words to comfort him, so you settle for running your hand up and down his back. "damn him. damn it all."

"i know, baby, i know," you murmur. "but you did so well."

"it wasn't enough," he seethes, and his voice breaks. you press a kiss into his hair. this was how you and rin functioned--nothing like flashy dates or extra displays of affection, just an understanding of the other's feelings. "it's never fucking enough." his grip on your waist temporarily tightens, frustration seeping into his tired muscles. dull pain blooms under the tips of his fingers.

"rin," is all you need to say before his touch loosens, smoothing over the area and searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

"shit. did i hurt you?"

"i'm okay, i promise," you reassure him. your thumb rubs the space between rin's eyebrows, tense from all his frowning. "you're gonna get wrinkles here if you keep living like this, my love."

"there's no other way for me to live," he replies.

"i know. but you'll let me stick through it with you?" instead of answering, he zeroes in on the chain around your neck, the dip between his eyebrows pinching even more.

"the penguin fell off," he deadpans. he says it in such a serious manner that you have to stifle a small giggle.

"that it did."

"i'll have to get you a new one then," he concludes, and the ache in your heart finally starts to ease as his hand slips into yours. "let's eat?"

"eating sounds good," you confirm. hand in hand, you walk toward the elevator and have to stop yourself from smirking when rin's signature scowl is immediately targeting isagi.

"what the hell are you doing here? stupid lukewarm isagi," he grumbles. isagi gives you a pitying look and shrugs.

"yeah, yeah. you're welcome for helping out your partner, idiot," isagi fires back without missing a beat. "seriously, how do you tolerate him?" his finger jabs the 'up' arrow, and you wait awkwardly with your boyfriend and your boyfriend's career rival.

"i'm not sure," you admit. "i just do?"

"you can do a lot better," isagi comments nonchalantly and rin stiffens. "you're too nice to be with a downer like him." rin's entire aura shifts to blood lust, but you're unbothered and surprise them both by laughing, squeezing rin's hand once.

"i've heard all that before, isagi," you explain. the elevator dings and the doors slide open. "the thing is, i love him too much to be with anyone else." before he can join you and rin in the elevator, your boyfriend's arm shoots out to prevent him from entering.

"really, dude?" isagi whines. "we just played against the u-20 team. i need food!"

"not my problem, half-baked," rin replies dryly. "wait for the next one." his other hand briefly leaves yours to slam on the 'close doors' button, and the two glare at each other until the metal panels shut between them. you have no time to question why rin despised isagi so much because before you could blink, he's walking you backward until your back is against the elevator railing and kissing you so fervently, you'd think he was starving. his hands slip back over your waist while your fingers thread through his hair, still damp with sweat.

"this is what you were waiting for, then?" you ask, breathless in between his mouth on yours. "didn't wanna kiss me with isagi around?" he catches the teasing in your voice and bites your bottom lip in retaliation.

"i have to take out my anger somehow, sweetheart."

take this bc i just caught up on the anime and i need to give rin a hug

#itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk angst #blue lock angst

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traveler-at-heart · 5 months ago

Text

Doctor's In - Part 17

Summary: You're finally back in Westview.

It’s your last shift at Romanoff Medical Center and everyone’s trying to act normal.

But then Yelena is rushing past you into a conference room, and Lorne is nowhere to be found even though he always insists on greeting you with a song.

“Hey, Y/N, could you help me review some post ops over here?” Yelena asks at one point and you play dumb.

If they’re going to ignore your no party request, the least you can do is have fun with it.

“I haven’t had lunch. Let’s do it at the cafeteria”

“No, it will only take a minute” the blonde insists and you smile, pretending to think about it.

“Alright, then”

When everyone screams “Surprise!” you pretend to be, knowing Wanda would want you to be polite.

“Cut the cake, come on” Yelena insists and after the first bite your mood changes instantly.

“Holy crap, this is delicious. Thanks, guys”

“So predictable. I knew the way to you was through your stomach. Speaking of which”

She hands over a card that has an intestine drawn and the words “We’ll miss you, don’t forGUT about us”

“Get it? Gut, as in your insides…” Lorne explains and you nod, hoping he shuts up.

“Yeah, seemed obvious to me, thanks”

Everyone’s asking about your plans and you try to dodge the questions. Your plan is to get on a plane back to Westview and hope for the best. Carol’s wedding seems like a safe enough topic, as everyone loves a party.

“Hey, I thought it was someone’s birthday” Val greets you.

“You made it! You are here for my party, right?”

“Yelena mentioned it. But, could I talk to you for a minute?” she gestures towards the hall and you follow her, a plate full of cake in your hands. “So, I have good news. The program wants you”

“Really?”

“They’d like it more if you agreed to move right away, but two months this summer is a compromise they’re willing to take. Not a lot of people request to go to Sokovia specifically”

“Ok, that’s awesome. Can you send me the details? I need to organize everything” you begin to think about flights, accommodation…

“And tell your girlfriend” Val reminds you.

“Oh, yeah. That”

Hey, babe. Wanna move back to your home country for the summer?

“Take it one step at a time, Y/N. And it was lovely meeting you” Val says, surprising you with a hug. She didn’t seem like the type to hug at all.

“You don’t want any cake?”

“Eat a slice for me”

“I can definitely do that” you mutter as she walks away. By God, it’s delicious.

More people go in and out of the conference room to say goodbye and you appreciate all their kind words. It’s a little overwhelming, as you honestly didn’t think anyone even noticed you around.

“Natasha’s not coming?” you ask Yelena, and the blonde shrugs her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I told her but you know how she is”

“No, I get it” you nod, trying to be casual about it.

The Romanoff that does stop by is Melina, who is on her way to a conference in Milan.

“Just wanted to wish you the best in your next adventure, whatever that is”

“I was considering stand up comedian” you joke, offering her cake. She turns it down with a polite gesture. “I’ve been told I have a funny bone…”

“Stick to medicine, darling” she cuts you off, making you laugh. “Before I leave, I need you to review your separation agreement and severance, just to make sure it’s all ok”

You nod, taking the piece of paper she’s offering.

“Uh, there’s definitely an extra zero there” you say, eyes open wide.

“I must insist. Save it for your time in Sokovia”

“You know about that, huh?” you chuckle.

“Of course. I’m part of the NGO’s board” Melina says, smiling. “Don’t be a stranger. You’ll always have a place here if you want to come back”

“Thank you” you say, and Melina nods. “I just… want to say I admire you, not just the research you do, but for giving back to the community. I see it and a lot of people in this hospital see it too, I hope you know that, Doctor Romanoff”

“Mama, it looks like you want to cry” Yelena chimes in and you roll your eyes. Melina laughs, asking her daughter to walk with her to the exit.

You’re left alone with Lorne, who is removing the decorations. You help him for a bit, working in silence until he sobs loudly.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Doctor Y/L/N”

“Ah, jeez” you say, hoping he doesn’t hug you. “It’s alright. Sharon is great. You’ll love working with her. Go check on my post ops, that will cheer you up”

It’s a quiet shift, which you appreciate. Yelena spends the rest of the day glued to your side, until it’s time to go back and pack the last of your things.

“Don’t be a stranger” the blonde says, looking everywhere but you.

“Yel, we’re seeing each other for Carol’s wedding. You don’t think Kate already told Darcy you’re her plus one?”

“She’s so bad at keeping secrets”

“Come here” you pull her for a hug. You’re gonna miss her, truly. And you hope there was something you could do to stay here, but you made a choice and your family comes first. “Don’t wanna be corny, but I care a lot about you, kiddo”

“I know” she says against your shoulder, hugging you before letting go. Yelena wipes her eyes and smiles. “See ya soon”

The penthouse feels a little empty, and the view from the terrace is gloomy, the clouds making it seem sad. It’s not like you have a lot of stuff to pack, only the clothes you bought when you got here, some shoes and scrubs. Everything else is either at Wanda’s or it was already here.

With a final look at the place, you close the door and go down the elevator one last time. As you’re about to step out the building and ask for a cab, someone pulls over.

“Need a ride?” Natasha says, opening the door of her car for you.

“Hey, stranger”

“You didn’t think I’d let you go without saying goodbye, did you?”

“Well, honestly? I did. You missed my farewell party”

“That’s because I knew someone would cry and it makes me uncomfortable” she explains, driving straight to the airport. “Got everything you need?”

“I think so, yeah” you nod. “I’m excited and terrified. I feel like everything will be the same and at the same point, nothing will, ya know?”

“Yeah I get it. You’ll be fine, though” she assures you, smiling.

The conversation flows easily, and you briefly mention your summer plans. She smirks, and you slap her arm.

“What are you laughing at?”

“See? I was never the problem. You’re more than capable of finding ways to piss off Wanda by yourself”

“Is it so bad to travel across the world to help others?”

“I’m just teasing” she laughs, though you know there’s some truth behind it.

Honestly, you’re 50/50 regarding Wanda’s reaction. Maybe she’ll be excited, and maybe she’ll throw something at you, lecturing you about making big decisions together.

“Alright, we’re here” Natasha says, pulling over. She helps with your suitcase, lingering for a bit as you get everything ready. You confirm you have everything with a nod, and your eyes meet hers.

“Nat…”

“I know” she says, pulling you in for a hug.

“Don’t be a stranger, please? At least text me once every month” you say.

“I’ll try my best. Take care, Y/N”

“You too” you wave one last time before walking to the airport.

When you’re finally on the plane, and you look out the window, the buildings of the city turn into nothing more than memories.

Time to go back home.

—

The air is cleaner, and so are the skies. That’s the first thing you notice as you step outside. The airport is so small compared to the one in Boston, and you don’t have to walk a lot to find Carol waiting for you.

“If it isn’t my runaway bridesmaid” she jokes and you smile, running to hug her.

“I’m back! I’m sorry. Do I still get to plan the bridal shower?”

“Maybe, we’re still wondering if it’s a good idea to get half the hospital drunk” she jokes. “Is that all you got?”

“Yeah” you hand over your suitcase, and you drive back to the hospital.

“So, how’s Wanda?” she gets right to it.

“Good. We’re working things out but taking it slow. I thought it might be a bit rushed to move right back in so I’ll stay with Darcy until I can find a place”

“Very mature and sensible” Carol nods. “I’m happy the time apart was good for you two. Like me and Maria”

“How’s the future Mrs. Danvers?”

“Stressed, but managing. Plus we’re thinking about trying for a kid so…” Carol mentions and you all but scream.

“A little troublemaker! They’re gonna be so cute”

You keep updating each other on things here and there, and when you finally get to the hospital, you stand outside for a minute to take it in.

It doesn’t feel wrong to be back. You’ve been through these doors more times than you can count. You know the people who work here; they’ve had your back and you have theirs.

Apart from the time you quit on the spot, of course.

With a sigh, you decide it’s time to face Fury. Carol wishes you luck and you agree to meet later for the final dress fitting.

His secretary does a doble take when you request to see him, and she hurries to his door.

“It’s Doctor Y/L/N”

“Well, it’s a miracle” Fury exclaims. You rub the back of your neck and walk in his office, smiling like an idiot.

“Hey… how’s it going?”

“Understaffed. Can I help you? Or did Romanoff send you to steal another head of department?”

“Uh, no… I came to request a job interview. Since you’re understaffed”

Fury leans back on his seat, crossing his arms.

“Well, the position of Head of Trauma is…”

You hear a commotion outside, and Darcy screaming for people to move out of the way.

“Hi, good morning” she straightens her glasses. “I quit” she turns around but comes back a second later. “Just to clarify. I’m still the Head of General Surgery. I quit as Head of Trauma. Thanks. See you in the cafeteria, Cujo”

“Nah, come here…” you pull her in for a hug, and are surprised to feel Darcy returning the gesture. “I missed you”

“Excuse me” she says, hiding her tears and walking away. You want to follow her but Fury clears his throat and you turn back to look at him.

“As I was saying… the position is currently open. But I’m looking for someone who will stay. And not quit on a whim, and leave her people high and dry. Can you be that person?”

“Yes, sir. Oh, except I’m going to Sokovia in the summer for a couple of months”

“If I wasn’t bald already… I’d definitely be thanks to you” he sighs, massaging his temples.

“Hey, I’ll find someone who can cover for me, that’s a promise” you raise your hand. “Scout’s honor”

“Fine. Go to HR and get the paperwork started. Welcome back, Doctor Y/L/N”

“Thanks, sir. It’s good to be home”

People greet you in the hallway and you smile, excited to catch up with everyone. Ana, the woman from HR is not so thrilled about you.

“Coming or going?” she asks, and you laugh awkwardly.

“Oh, coming back to my old position. Fury told me to get an updated ID”

“Uh-hu” the woman eyes you up and down.

After the paperwork hassle, you walk around the hospital. There’s a couple of signs in the board and you read them, taking an interest in one that’s looking for a roomate.

For more information, call James Barnes.

You take the ad and run to the ER, finding Bucky working on setting up an IV.

“Welcome back” he says with a smile you’ve only seen twice.

“Thanks. Now, about that room you’re renting”

—

“You’re gonna be roommates with my nemesis?” Darcy says as you drive to Wanda’s house.

Wanda was busy during the day but organized an early dinner with her family and some of your friends to welcome you back.

“Barnes is not your nemesis. You are coworkers, Darcy. Plus, you hate it when you have to share space with other people. I remember what it was like in college”

“Well, that’s true. I just don’t believe Wanda will let you sleep anywhere else”

“It’s for the best. I can’t go from living alone for the past three months to a full house again”

She’s about to say something when you cut off another driver, going faster while he honks at you.

“Damn, is she waiting for you naked? Why are you driving like a lunatic?” Darcy says, holding on to the dashboard.

“Oh, sorry” you immediately slow down. “Got used to driving in a bigger city”

Pietro is the one that opens the door when you knock (it feels weird to just walk in like you own the place). He stares at you and you think he’s getting ready for another shovel talk when he smiles, hugging you.

“Wow, careful” you say when he lifts you in the air.

“I’m a lot better now, sestra. Welcome back”

“It’s good to be back”

The minute you walk in, the kids run up to you and you lift them over your shoulders, Sparky running around and jumping up and down to make you notice him.

“My little velociraptors! Hey, Sparky!”

The party is bigger than you expected. The Bartons are there, as well as Agatha, Rio and Mrs. Davies. You walk into the backyard where there’s a large table and people begin to walk over to welcome you.

“Hey, hot stuff, you got buff. Rio, come over here, feel those muscles” Agatha says, squeezing your arm. Rio smirks, biting her lip as she joins her girlfriend. They share a look and you feel like this is a kink of theirs.

Clint comes over to save you.

“Looked like you could use some help”

“Uh, yeah. I feel dirty. Thanks, man”

“Good to have you back”

Laura joins you, asking about Lily, who happens to be a friend of hers from college and you also talk about Wendy.

When the kids call for her, you smile and walk in the direction of a woman who has interacted with everyone, but stays in the back.

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff. It’s nice to finally meet you”

“How did you know?”

“Well, you have the same eyes as Wanda. And you scrunch up your nose the same way when you smile. That’s top of my head, I could mention like ten other things I noticed”

“Very observant”

“When it comes to Wanda, yes”

“I’ve heard a lot about you” the woman smiles.

“I’m afraid not all of it has been good. I wish I hadn’t cause so much trouble when I left” you sigh, knowing there’s no point in pretending you didn’t screw up.

“Relationships are complicated. What matters is how much work you want to put into it” she looks at you sternly and you nod. Her eyes divert to a spot over your shoulder and she smiles. “I believe my daughter’s waiting for you”

“What?” you turn to look behind you, forgetting everything as soon as your eyes meet Wanda’s.

She’s in a beautiful green dress that brings out her eyes, smiling at you as you walk up to her.

“Welcome ho…” she begins to say but your lips interrupt her. Your hands cup her face gently as you kiss her, and she covers them with hers, giving you a light squeeze. “As I was saying, welcome home”

“I missed you” you whisper against her lips. “I’m never leaving again, ever”

“Good to know” she smiles at you, taking you back to chat with everyone.

Pretty soon you all grab plates and help yourselves to the food. There’s chicken pie, meatloaf, and some cake.

“Mrs. Maximoff, the chkmeruli is amazing. Did you use adjika?” you say, enjoying the taste. It’s so damn good.

“Yes. How did you…?” she says, impressed.

“Well, I know Wanda had trouble finding a store that sold it here. But I found some of it in Boston and tried to cook with it. It makes all the difference”

“Ok, Barefoot Contessa” Darcy mutters and you elbow her side, chuckling.

“Well, this isn’t store bought. I made it from scratch” Wanda’s mother announces proudly.

“No way, would you teach me?” you ask. “I was thinking about using it with fried potatoes or some other stuff too”

“I’d be happy to” the woman nods, and then looks at her daughter. She speaks in Sokovian, and Wanda blushes.

“Mama!”

“What? What did she say?” Darcy asks, and you look between Wanda and her mother.

“She said that Wanda better marry that girl”

Clint whistles, while Laura laughs and you blush.

“No, she didn’t, that’s a lie” Wanda throws a piece of bread to Pietro, but he catches it and puts it in his mouth, smiling proudly.

“Well, babe. I’d listen to your mother” you smile.

Wanda rolls her eyes, but everytime you lock eyes for the rest of the night, you can tell she’s happy that her mother liked you.

Well, maybe when you ask her blessing to propose to Wanda she’ll say yes.

—

Everyone’s gone, the twins are in bed and Ekaterina has also left for the day.

It’s just you and Wanda in the kitchen, saving stuff in the fridge and loading the dishwasher.

“Thanks for throwing a party. You didn’t have to, baby”

“Everyone was looking forward to seeing you. Now we got that out of the way and I can have you all to myself” she smiles, her hands going around your waist.

“Oh, and why would you want me for yourself only, Miss Maximoff? Anything comes to mind?”

“A couple of things” she smiles, kissing you.

You moan against her mouth when her teeth play with your bottom lip.

“Well, I’m down as long as there’s more of that”

“Then come to bed”

“I should go”

“Stay” she asks. “All your stuff is here, and I know you found that apartment already. I’ll help you take your stuff tomorrow”

“You sure?”

“If it were up to me, you would have moved back here already, detka”

“Well, if it were up to your mother we’d be married” you joke as you go up the stairs. Wanda laughs, pulling you inside her bedroom. You take off your clothes, deciding to sleep in your underwear.

Wanda comes out of the master bathroom wearing one of your t-shirts.

“What a view” you say, pulling her down to your lap. “Better than any penthouse in the world”

“Mhm. I missed you in our bed. I got so lonely, and I… well, someone else slept here for a while” she sighs, looking away. You frown, searching for her eyes. Wanda keeps talking, refusing to look at you. “He was fine, it was just weird with all his hair and a different smell. But nothing happened, we just cuddled, you have to believe me”

“You’re talking about that damn dog, aren’t ya?” you say, because if she isn’t, you’re going to find the bastard that slept with Wanda and kill him.

“Well, I…” Wanda turns to look at you, and her lip quivers. A second later, she’s laughing so loud she has to cover her mouth. “Yes. I’m sorry, you should have seen your face”

“You’ll pay for this” you say, flipping her on her back and tickling her sides. Wanda shrieks, laughing as she apologizes over and over again.

—

“Strip club”

“For a bridal shower? Groundbreaking” Darcy mocks you, without looking up from the charts she’s reading.

“Fine, you propose something!”

It’s not like there are a lot of things you can do. You know Maria and Carol love sports but you really can’t imagine going to a game and then calling it a great party.

It’s supposed to be fun and memorable and something that you wouldn’t normally do.

“I’m proposing we get drunk, that’s it”

“How about a drag show? That’s fun and very queer of us”

“Maybe. That would be fun” Darcy thinks about it for a moment. “I’ll run it by Carol and let you know”

“Hey, I’m the maid of honor, I should be the one asking her”

“You were demoted when you left” Darcy blows you a kiss, and slams the door behind her. That’s probably a lie, but she’ll make sure Carol hears her out before you can even mention the strip club idea.

Kate comes over to ask for some help, and by the time your shift ends, Wanda’s waiting at the front desk.

“Hey, baby” Wanda greets when you meet her. You kiss her and as you pull back, Darcy walks by, looking annoyed.

“Carol wants to go to the strip club, so your idea wins. Hope you’re happy”

“Strip club?” Wanda turns to look at you, tilting her head.

“You’re an ass, Lewis. It wasn’t my idea. I mean, it was, but I just mentioned it could be something to do” you stutter when your friend leaves and you’re left alone with Wanda.

“Mhm. Might have to go with you to make sure no one touches what’s mine”

“Considering what happened last time we were at a club, I’m not opposed to the idea” you say, remembering how hot it was to have Wanda all over you.

“We’ll see” she promises, kissing the spot in your jaw that always makes you agree to anything. “Now let’s go, the kids are waiting for us”

As soon as you had a free afternoon, you wanted to join soccer practice, mainly to make sure Bitchard knew you were back and he’d think it twice before messing with Wanda.

“There he is” you mutter when you get out of the car, walking to open the passenger door for your girlfriend. Wanda follows your eyes and then scoffs.

“So that’s why you wanted to come along. Honestly, I didn’t even pay attention when he asked me out”

“He did what?”

“I told you”

“You did not”

“Well, I… what are you doing?” she says when you corner her against the car, your hands on her waist. “We’re in public”

“Did he try anything else?” you say against her lips. “Answer me, Wanda”

“N-no”

“Well, good. Let’s hope after today he gets the message loud and clear”

“Trust me, I made sure of that” Wanda tries to push past you, but your hands keep her in place, your grip so strong it makes her knees weak.

“Who do you belong to, baby? Come on, be a good girl, I wanna hear you say it”

“You, I’m yours. You know it”

“I just like to remind you, that’s all. Now, let’s go” you finally set her free, and Wanda misses the feeling of your body pressed against her. She’s going to have trouble focusing on the game now.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you” Sharon winks at you the minute you join the rest of the parents.

“Oh, yeah. I’m back for good, though. Missed me?” you joke, knowing it will upset your girlfriend.

“Yes, and those extra muscles suit you very well” she looks ready to squeeze your bicep, but Wanda clears her throat, standing by your side. You wave at Tommy and Billy, who finally agreed to go back to practice on the condition that you train together whenever you’re free.

“Hey, how about a friendly competition between parents? Losing team pays for ice cream” Coach Hill says when an ice cream truck approaches, making all the kids distracted. They’re definitely not playing when they could be having a sweet treat.

“Yeah, I’m in” you say, stepping into the field. Of course, Bitchard is next and you turn to Maria. “Not playing on his team, though”

“That’s fine. You’re both captains of your teams”

A couple of parents join you and Dickhead picks some other people for his team. You’re surprised when Sharon’s the last joining you.

“Let’s get their asses”

To your delight, Richard decides to be the goalie for his team, so you choose the forward position. With some luck you’ll manage to get the ball right in his fucking face.

Coach Hill starts the game with her whistle and the ball is quickly on your teammates side. To your surprise, Sharon is a master dribbler and she runs past most of the men, kicking the ball towards you.

You make it seem like you’ll aim for the left corner and when Dick falls into the trap, you easily kick the ball in the opposite direction.

“1-0. First to score three goals wins” Maria announces.

The game gets so good that even the truck driver parks to watch it. You have to work a bit harder to get to the second goal but by the time you do, you’re out of breath. You lift your t-shirt to wipe the sweat off your face, missing the way Wanda’s eyes darken at the sight before her.

“Sharon, the ball” you scream at her. Apparently, she got distracted too and now you have to run a bit faster to catch up and intercept it.

Still, you score, making it 2-0.

The last goal is super easy, except Bitchard slips and then looks at Hill, whining like a baby.

“That was definitely offside”

“No, it wasn’t” you challenge. “Might wanna have your eyesight checked”

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell your girlfriend to come over and check it for me?”

“I’m going to kill you” you announce, walking towards him.

“Hey, hey. Set an example for the kids” Hill says, standing between the two of you. “It was an offside, not that anyone cares because this is soccer practice for ten year olds… but if it makes you so upset”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Don’t want tiny dick’s to fall off for a technicality” you smile, turning back. “I’m getting that goal either way”

And you do, faster than expected. With a slide, you take control of the ball and then kick it so hard it lands on Richard’s stomach, pushing him against the net. He falls on his back, out of breath.

“Congrats, now how about a friendly handshake to finish this?” Hill proposes, hoping you don’t try to punch the man while he’s already down.

Instead you extend your hand to help him up and when he takes it, you pretend to hug him in a friendly manner, but squeezing his hand so hard he whines.

“If you ever mess with my family again, I will cut your tiny dick with a scalpel and make you choke on it, got it?” you whisper, changing your expression to a smile when you pull apart. You slap him playfully, smiling with a shit eating grin. “Good game, Dick. Now pay up”

The twins are talking non stop when you join them, giving them a thumbs up.

“Can you teach me to slide like that?” Tommy asks when you’re walking back to the car.

“Sure, kiddo. Some other time”

As they get in the car, Wanda stops you, smiling.

“So, all good? The murderous impulse is out of your system now?”

“Yeah, one last thing” you say, seeing as Richard’s arguing with the ice cream man. You approach them, handing over a 100 dollar bill.

“And you had the nerve to ask my girl out when you’re a cheap ass? Keep the change, man”

Wanda laughs as you walk back, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Now I’m done”

—

You’re in the kitchen, trying to write down everything Wanda’s mother tells you.

“It’s very salty” you comment when she offers you a taste of the adjika sauce.

“It should be, that’s what preserves it”

You nod, and keep following her instructions. Wanda walks around, trying to check what you’re doing, but her mother insists that you need your space to work.

“I wasn’t big on cooking before, guess she’s just curious if I’m making a mess in her kitchen” you explain, smiling.

“So, what do you provide to a household, if not cooking?” the woman says and you want to laugh at the formality of the question.

“Oh, I fix things. My dad taught me how to do a lot of stuff, since I was little. My stepdad too; whenever my mother was too tired to pretend she wanted me around she’d send me to work with him. But he was ok, he liked teaching me things”

“No child should feel like a burden to their parents” is all the woman says and you shrug your shoulders. “You have a sister, yes?”

“And a brother” you nod, smiling. “I was hoping to invite them over, Zach hasn’t met Wanda and the kids. Maybe before…”

You’re about to say before I go to Sokovia but you haven’t had the conversation with Wanda.

“Before…?” Ekaterina looks up, not missing a beat. Darcy was right, she’s very observant.

“Before Jenny goes to college” you half lie.

The two of you work in silence for a bit, but your mind keeps going back to their home country.

“So, can I ask about Sokovia? Wanda tells me some stuff about the food and the language but I’m wondering what is it like there now that the war is over”

“Well, the war is over. But there’s a lot of ruins and a lot to rebuild. No money to do it, and people who love their land. Most of them never left and the ones that did don’t really want to come back”

“Why did you? If I can ask”

“That’s where I met my husband, and where my kids were born, it’s the land that gave me everything I have ever loved. And no offense to you Americans but I could never understand some of your traditions”

“None taken. I don’t like some of them either. Especially from a doctor’s perspective, people get in the weirdest accidents when they’re lighting fireworks or carving pumpkins”

“Can I ask you something?” she says after a beat of silence. You nod, feeling nervous. “I know how you met my daughter and everything that happened between you two. Why do you think it’s different now?”

“Well. Let me start by saying I love your daughter very much. I love how kind and thoughtful she is, how much she loves the boys. I love how she knows exactly how to make someone feel welcomed and appreciated without even trying. I could go on and on for hours, Mrs. Maximoff”

“That’s very nice of you, but it’s not what I asked. I just want to make sure you won’t hurt her again”

You stop chopping vegetables and look at Ekaterina, sighing.

“I… I thought I wasn’t going to survive. She told me she was better off without me, and I took it to heart, leaving to try to move on. Boston was nice. I made friends, the work was very interesting. I could have built my life there. I realised I could survive, live a life without Wanda. But I just don’t want to. So that’s why I’m not leaving ever again. I choose to be here no matter what”

The woman stays silent for a moment, and then eyes you up and down.

“Very well” is all she says. You smile, knowing that’s the highest form of compliment you can get out of her.

Dinner is nice and the kids are eager to tell Pietro about the match between the parents.

“Maybe I’ll join next time” he says. “Now that my doctor has finally given his approval”

“That’s wonderful news” Ekaterina says.

“Good, it’s your turn to do my laundry for the next few months” Wanda says.

“I actually already found a place to stay. So I can give you two privacy. Yeah, you know the guy, Y/N. Barnes”

“Wait, I’m moving in with him”

“Ok, let’s cut the taking it slow bullshit” Pietro says, looking between you and Wanda.

“Language!” Wanda and her mother scold at the same time. You almost want to laugh at the identical frowns on their faces.

“Sorry, but Y/N, you’ve been back for a week and when you’re not working you sleep here” Pietro calls out, and he does have a point. “So, while I find a house of my own, you two can have some privacy”

“You’re staying in Westview?” Wanda asks.

“Yeah, I figured it’s time to settle” he shrugs his shoulders.

“That’s so cool! We can have sleepovers all the time” Tommy cheers and you smile as well.

“Yeah, sleepovers sound like a great idea” you mutter in Wanda’s direction. She elbows your side, knowing you’re thinking about all the alone time you could have if the boys stay with their uncle.

“Congratulations. A toast for new beginings” Ekaterina says.

You keep talking about Pietro’s plans and you agree to help him move his stuff. There’s also the subject of what to do now that his provisional room will be available again.

“Well, mom, you could move in there” Wanda proposes.

“I couldn't possibly leave Mrs. Davies. But now that you have a spare room, you could definitely consider turning it into a nursery” Ekaterina says casually, making you choke on your wine.

“Mom’s only teasing, detka” Wanda says, easing your nerves with a hand on your leg. “I already gave you two grandchildren, hassle Pietro about it”

“Well, unless he does it by mitosis, it might not happen anytime soon” you say, but no one laughs. “That joke would have killed in the hospital, just so ya’ll know”

“Here it only killed the mood” Pietro says.

“Ok, I take it back, I don’t want any more grandchildren, with the three of you I have enough kids to scold” Ekaterina says, making you laugh.

“Sorry” Pietro and you say at the same time.

“Three? What did I do? I’m just eating my dinner” Wanda protests, looking offended.

“Don’t get me started on all the things you did, malyshka”

“Oh, this is going to be good” you say, eager to learn more about teenage Wanda.

“Blasting her music, saying she wanted to be in an all girls band and tour the world instead of going to college”

“Stealing Papa’s car” Pietro chimes in and you gasp.

“Hey, you were there too!”

“Yeah, but it was your idea, remember? You wanted to go to that concert. Sneaked us in with fake IDs”

“You had fake IDs?” Ekaterina says, shocked.

“Children, how about you go get us ice cream?” Wanda interrupts her brother, looking ready to murder him.

“Even if we already had some today?”

“Yes, go crazy!” Wanda encourages them, breathing a sigh of relief when they’re gone. “Not fair, you guys. In front of Y/N too”

“No, I find you fascinating, my love” you laugh, taking her hand and kissing it.

“Blegh, I’m getting ice cream too” Pietro complains.

Ekaterina begins to pick up the dishes and Wanda helps her, insisting that you stay with the boys watching tv.

By the time it’s all done, Wanda calls the kids for bed.

“Detka, can you help mom set the dishwasher?”

“Yeah, sure thing”

You join Ekaterina in the kitchen, and she huffs and scoffs as you load it.

“Why can’t we just rinse them in the sink like normal people?”

“There. All done, Mrs. Maximoff” you smile at her, wiping your hands.

“You should call me Mom” she says, taking you by surprise.

“Uh, you sure? I mean, not even my own mother wanted me to call her that” you joke.

“Her loss. I insist”

“Alright. I’ll… try” you promise.

Ekaterina nods, looking at her watch.

“Oh, my. It’s time for The Price is Right. Mrs. Davies is waiting for me. Tell Wanda I’ll see her tomorrow”

“Yes, Mrs. Ma… Mom” you correct when the woman gives you a stern look. Another thing she shares with Wanda.

“Night”

“Goodnight” you say, smiling as she kisses Pietro’s cheeks.

Looks like you just got adopted by the Maximoff matriarch.

“Where’s mom?” Wanda says as she goes down the stairs.

“Oh, she was late for The Price is Right with Mrs. Davies” you say, smiling at her.

“Well, come to bed. I have to give you your prize for winning that match” she says, biting her lip.

“I knew I was going to score more than goals today” you smile, picking her up. Pietro overhears, groaning.

“I can’t wait to move out”

“Wear headphones, Maximoff. We’re getting loud” you say, making Wanda laugh as you go upstairs.

“I hate you both!”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

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shanastoryteller · 2 months ago

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Happy Birthday! Do you have more F for Frankenstein? Thanks so much

a continuation of 1 2 3 4

Fortunately for him, burying himself in suit repairs and rebuilding the tower - his beautiful tower that was utterly perfect in his most recent memories and is now in need of some serious repairs - is predictable enough that Pepper and Rhodey are only minorly concerned by him disappearing down there. Thankfully, clean up from the alien invasion is enough of a distraction for a Colonel and a CEO and if they're both surprised at his refusal to come to bed with them, it's at least not without precedent.

Not much precedent, but some! He was dying for most of them, however, so he really hopes they don't pick up on the pattern.

He clears out some of the storage and converts it into a cryogenic chamber of sorts. The suit is the best monitoring technology they have, so up until they've got something viable to work with, Tony's body will be staying there in a hole in the wall.

It makes his workshop feel like a morgue, knowing his body is on ice behind some false drawers, but he supposes that's what it is.

Dum-E knows something is wrong immediately.

He zooms around TONY and the suit, moving his arm erratically in clear distress. U takes longer, bumping gently into his side, knowing that TONY visually looks right but is missing all the important vital sighs.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, hands spread wide.

Dum-E whirls away from him and goes over to the suit. He reaches out his claw and grabs the suit's gauntlet, tugging at it gently. U bumps into him again, more insistently this time.

"J," he says helplessly.

"That's enough," JARVIS says. Dum-E pulls harder, enough to shake the suit. "Sir is experiencing a system error. He needs to be rebooted."

U starts spinning in tight circles.

"TONY is here to help us write the code," JARVIS continues, voice softer. He's Tony's youngest AI - well, besides himself - but he's a lot more sophisticated than Dum-E and U. "Until we have perfected the code, Sir must rest. You have to let go of him."

Dum-E doesn't move. It's pretty rich coming from JARVIS, considering.

TONY steps forward, putting a hand on his support strut. He's warm like Tony was, looking entirely human under infrared, a synthetic beating heart and pulse and a chest programmed to rise and fall in the imitation of lungs.

But he's imitation the whole way down.

"I'm going to do the best I can," he says. And he will. But he already knows it's not going to work. He just has to convince JARVIS of that too. "Okay? But he needs to go in storage for a little bit."

Dum-E understands dead. He's saved Tony from death before. But neither he nor JARVIS are using those words even though they should.

This is all just delaying the inevitable. It's just going to make it worse when their deception is uncovered and they find out Tony Stark died throwing that nuke into space, that he died to save New York and possibly the whole planet.

He died for them all and no one even knows about it. No people. Just four robots.

Dum-E slowly lets go of the suit's gauntlet. TONY tucks it back in place, chancing a look in the helmet and finding himself faced with his own unseeing eyes.

He wishes he could close them but for right now it's not worth opening the suit.

He steps back and JARVIS raises the false wall, obscuring Tony and the suit from view. "We have work to do, TONY."

"Right," TONY says softly.

It's a good thing he doesn't need to sleep.

#dum-e: you're not my real dad!!#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #cherryblossomshadow #avengers

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apieinvestavimapaprastai · 2 months ago

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Uncover the 2025–2029 stock price forecast for Neurocrine Biosciences, with a 13.71% upside driven by INGREZZA and CRENESSITY. #NeurocrineBiosciences #NBIX #NBIXstock #stockpriceforecast #INGREZZA #CRENESSITY #biotechinvestments #neurosciencestocks #sharebuyback #stockmarkettrends #investmentanalysis

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p0orbaby · 9 months ago

Text

Extinguish the Flames with Some Champagne and Pills

summary: your may or may not be in denial about your feelings for alexia

warnings: mention of smut, alcohol and drugs and nothing major

a/n: a whole lot of words based on this request. set after this but you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to

word count: 3k

part 1

You’ve been ignoring Alexia’s messages for weeks now, every one of them its own little bomb you’re too terrified to defuse. Every time her name pops up on your screen, your stomach flips, your breath catches, and you somehow experience the full spectrum of human emotion in a split second. But mostly there’s terror and something closer to shame than you’d like to admit.

It’s a game of avoidance that doesn’t come easily to you; after all, you’re usually the one with a glib reply or some devil-may-care response, the kind of person who thrives on chaos. But this time, it’s different. This time, there’s something closer to shame nestled beneath the familiar terror, a sensation like a splinter lodged deep under the skin—small enough to ignore at first but persistent enough to drive you mad.

Your friends—of course, always your friends—keep bringing her up, as if they can somehow sense the crisis you’re trying to keep contained. It’s usually after a few cocktails too many, when your circle is gathered around a dimly lit table in some trendy restaurant or at a rooftop bar where the music is loud enough to drown out the awkward pauses but not loud enough to stifle their teasing. “She’s the best footballer in the world,” they slur with a kind of drunken reverence, like they’re invoking some untouchable deity rather than a woman who once had her strap buried inside you in a strangers bathroom. “You know she won the Ballon d’Or twice, right?” As if you haven’t been low-key stalking her career, watching those achievements pile up like monuments you’ll never come close to matching. “She’s beautiful and talented,” they declare, their words slurring into a familiar refrain, as though her accolades have somehow slipped your mind, as though you might have failed to notice her brilliance or her impossible grace.

But the clincher, the one they love to throw at you, is always: “And she’s Spanish”

There’s a certain relish with which they say it, that singsong tone like they’re divulging some magic spell or a punchline they know gets a laugh every time. It’s as if her nationality carries some kind of exotic allure, like there’s something intrinsically romantic or mysterious about being Spanish that you’re pre-programmed to fall for. Ridiculous, really, but your friends don’t care about nuance. They only remember the endless stories you told about summers in the Balearics—the drunken nights under hot stars, the hazy afternoons spent nursing hangovers and catching fragments of conversations in Spanish that you pretended to understand. “You love Spanish women,” they insist, as if your type is as predictable as your go-to drink order. Conveniently, they overlook the fact that your type mostly translates to ‘emotionally unavailable,’ as if that’s some universal trait of Iberian women.

It’s not that they’re entirely wrong, of course, but they’re oversimplifying. Your attraction to Alexia isn’t some exoticism or romantic fantasy you’ve spun out of nothing. It’s her unapologetic drive, her resilience, that hooked you—though God forbid you’d admit that to anyone. “She’s an athlete,” you shrug whenever the subject comes up, swirling the last melting ice cube in your Old Fashioned like it’s a magic eight ball that might give you a different answer this time. “They’re all players.” The line slips out with just the right amount of indifference, a practiced dismissal, as though you’ve been brutalised by every athlete from Cristiano Ronaldo to Wayne Gretzky. It’s a complete fabrication, of course. You’ve never actually dated a footballer, let alone the best in the world. But who can resist a good story, especially when it’s your own and you get to embellish the details?

It’s easier, you think, to act disinterested than to admit you’ve been replaying that night in the bathroom, the feel of her breath against your neck, every time you catch your reflection in some shiny surface. You thought you were done with all that—had filed her away in the mental drawer labelled ‘Temporary Distractions,’ right alongside the male model who could never quite remember your birthday and the painter who had the audacity to try to psychoanalyse you on the third date. One-night stands are supposed to be transient, fleeting, the kind of thing you can bring up in therapy one day with a detached air. “I think this is worth mentioning,” you’d say, as if it happened to someone else, “but it’s not really important.” Another plot point in the story of your life, never quite making it past the cutting room floor.

But Alexia doesn’t stay filed away. She starts turning up everywhere, not quite a haunting, but a presence you can’t shake no matter how you try. At first, it’s incidental—just a casual Instagram scroll, a stray click on some football gossip account that you don’t even remember following. There she is, grinning in some post-match group shot, looking too happy for someone who’s supposed to be just another fleeting chapter in your book. It’s the kind of unguarded joy that can’t be faked, not even for the camera, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s always this free, or if it’s something that only comes out when she’s on the pitch, away from people like you.

You hardly even realise it, but suddenly you’re following three different Barcelona fan accounts. Then, as if by some magnetic force you’re unwilling to acknowledge, things escalate. She likes one of your posts—a shot from the Venice Film Festival where you’re all decked out in head-to-toe Prada, looking expensively bored, like you couldn’t care less about anything in the world. She comments on one of your stories: just an emoji. A single fire emoji, to be precise. Harmless, you suppose. But the comments start getting specific—little in-jokes that only someone who’d had their mouth on your skin could know. There’s a familiarity in her tone that feels invasive, like she’s reminding you of things you’ve deliberately chosen to forget.

You don’t reply. Cowardice? Yes. Masochism? Possibly. The most crucial thing is that replying would imply there’s something worth talking about, and something always becomes complicated. You’ve already got enough complicated in your life: a demanding agent who keeps sending you scripts for roles that are ‘outside your comfort zone,’ a wardrobe full of designer clothes you’re required to wear for sponsorship deals you didn’t even negotiate, and an on-again, off-again affair with mindful meditation that never seems to stick. You’re in the middle of wrapping up a film that everyone assures you will ‘change the trajectory of your career,’ though they’ve said the same about the last three projects, and you still get recognised more for that face cream advert you did when you were twenty-one than for anything of substance.

The film’s an indie about a morally ambiguous antiheroine, a character so damaged and charmingly dysfunctional you’d think you were being typecast if the role didn’t feel like an emotional excavation. She’s got a drinking problem; you’ve always favoured substances that can be discreetly indulged in penthouse bathrooms, though you’re certainly not going to point that out to the director who keeps going on about ‘authenticity’ and ‘method acting.’ He seems to think you’ve got some untapped well of emotion just waiting to be accessed, as if there’s this depth beneath your flawless skin that’s going to pour out on cue. If only. Most of the time, you’re trying not to let your co-star notice the faint tremor in your hands that’s mostly a byproduct of too much caffeine and not enough sleep.

Then one day, while you’re lounging in your trailer, pretending to enjoy a green juice that tastes like the inside of a lawnmower—another post from Alexia. She’s on the pitch, holding some trophy aloft, her face flushed with victory. Her hair is slicked back, still damp with sweat, strands clinging to her skin in a way that seems impossibly intimate despite the vastness of the stadium behind her. That smile… Christ. It’s like she’s been sculpted out of bronze, an ancient statue come to life, as if she’s somehow timeless and ephemeral all at once. There’s something almost mythic about her, an enduring quality that makes your breath hitch in a way that feels both familiar and unnervingly new, like an old friend who’s overstayed their welcome but you’re not quite ready to let go.

It’s moments like these when you notice how precariously you’re balancing on the line between fascination and obsession. You catch yourself humming the anthem of Barcelona’s football club, the tune woven so deeply into your subconscious that it startles you. You aren’t even sure where you picked it up, but it plays on a loop whenever your mind wanders, like a soundtrack you didn’t choose. Then there are the little things—reading the match reports in the sports section like you actually know what half the terms mean, or memorising obscure facts about the team’s history as if they’re somehow relevant to your life. You’ve started following the scores like they’re stock prices, pretending it’s just casual interest, though a part of you wonders why you keep needing to know how well she played, how many minutes she was on the pitch, whether she looked happy in the post-game interviews.

It’s a form of self-deception that’s becoming harder to maintain. You’re drawn to her orbit, pulled in by a force that feels magnetic and entirely outside your control, as though your fascination is bleeding into the rest of your life, filling the gaps you didn’t even know existed.

You decide, in a moment of what can only be described as poor judgment, to attend one of her matches. It feels impulsive and reckless in the way most of your decisions do, a haphazard pairing of curiosity and a kind of dangerous longing. You book a front-row seat like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like you’re just ticking another item off some glamorous bucket list rather than treading into unfamiliar territory. Naturally, you show up dressed to the nines—your favourite Gucci sunglasses perched on your nose, an Alexander McQueen coat draped over your shoulders with that deliberate, careless grace that suggests you’re either oblivious to or entirely aware of its price tag. Your hair is styled in that kind of artful chaos that takes hours to perfect but is meant to look like you rolled out of bed effortlessly chic. You’re not here for the football. You’re here for her.

The atmosphere in the stadium is overwhelming, almost suffocating, a heady cocktail of chants, horns, and the sharp, greasy scent of fried food that turns your stomach. It’s a kind of chaos you’re unaccustomed to, this all-consuming fervor where the world narrows down to the pitch, to the twenty-two players moving with a purpose you can’t fully grasp. You understand about three percent of what’s happening on the field—just enough to know when the ball’s in play but not enough to follow the strategies unfolding before you. You’re mostly people-watching: the sea of jerseys, the faces contorted with passion, the rhythmic clapping that you can’t quite catch the beat of.

When Alexia scores, it catches you off guard. The stadium erupts, thousands of people leaping to their feet with a collective roar that vibrates through your bones. You react half a beat late, your applause more polite than enthusiastic, like you’re at a black-tie gala instead of a football match. You stand, clap along with the crowd, and try not to feel like an imposter. As the cheers die down, you catch her eyes from across the distance, just for a flicker of a moment. There’s something in her gaze—an awareness, a spark—that slices through the noise and zeroes in on you. It’s like she sees you, actually sees you, in the middle of this thrumming, chaotic mass of bodies, and for a split second, it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the entire stadium.

After the game, you somehow find yourself swept into the exclusive VIP area, a place filled with the kind of people who can glide between worlds as easily as they switch languages. A flute of champagne appears in your hand almost before you’re aware you’ve been handed one, and you sip it absentmindedly as you let the buzz of conversation wash over you. You’re halfway through your second glass when she appears, slipping through the crowd with a kind of effortless poise, her hair still damp from the shower, the strands curling at the ends. She’s wearing a loose tracksuit, looking every bit the casual athlete, as though she hasn’t just been commanding the attention of thousands.

There’s an insufferable confidence in the way she moves towards you, that familiar swagger that borders on arrogance, as if she’s amused by the fact that you actually showed up, that you dared to step into her world. “I didn’t think you were a football fan,” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice, though her eyes betray something else—a darker, more searching intensity that you recognise all too well from that night in the bathroom, the one you keep trying and failing to forget.

“I can appreciate a good performance,” you reply, lifting your glass in a mock toast, your voice slipping into that arch tone you’ve perfected over years of industry parties and press tours. “I’ve seen Cats live on Broadway, you know.” It’s a flippant comment, the kind that’s designed to deflect, to distract, to keep the conversation light and meaningless.

She laughs, a rich sound that feels like an indulgence. It’s not so much at your joke but at the way you’re playing this little game, like she’s letting you have your moment, humouring you. “And did you enjoy the show?” she asks, her voice dropping just enough to suggest that her question has nothing to do with the theatre and everything to do with the performance she just gave on the pitch.

“I think you already know the answer to that,” you say, holding her gaze longer than you probably should. There’s a challenge in the way you look at her, an unspoken dare, and for a moment, you wonder if she’ll take the bait. Her lips curl into a small, devilish smile, a private expression that feels like a confession meant just for you.

The moment stretches, teeters precariously on the edge of something you’re not quite ready to acknowledge. It feels monumental, like a line about to be crossed, but then she steps back, just a fraction, and the spell breaks. She turns away with a dismissive grace, leaving you standing there as if you’ve just been defeated in a game you didn’t know you were playing. “Good,” she says simply, and with that one word, she slips back into the crowd, leaving you with nothing but the faint taste of champagne on your lips and the lingering sense that you’ve been left wanting.

After that, you start to notice the divide. There’s Before Alexia and After Alexia, and it’s not a clean break but a jagged line that cuts through your life, shifting everything off balance. You used to think of yourself as someone in control, or at least someone who could fake it convincingly enough to fool everyone else. There was always an understanding that if you messed up, someone would be there to fix it—your agent, a publicist, some overworked assistant who could call in a favor to make the headlines disappear. But now, your phone has become an instrument of anxiety, vibrating with texts and notifications that you crave and dread in equal measure. It buzzes with messages from her that you read but don’t answer, with updates from your agent about the press tour you keep dodging, with reminders of responsibilities you keep pushing aside.

Even after filming there has finished, you start booking last-minute flights to Barcelona under the guise of ‘business,’ convincing yourself that it’s all perfectly legitimate. Your agent rolls his eyes and hounds you to schedule interviews and appearances, but you find yourself at the airport anyway, boarding another red-eye that will land you in some unfamiliar city just in time to catch her match. You’re finding yourself in strange places at ungodly hours, indulging in the kind of fan behavior you’d have found pathetic if you saw anyone else doing it. Ninety minutes of football passes in a trance, where the world narrows down to her figure gliding across the pitch, the fluid grace of her movements cutting through the static in your head like a hot knife through butter.

Afterwards, you’ll send her a coy, inconsequential text—“Not bad,” or “You could work on your footwork.” And she’ll reply with that maddening charm that dances the line between sincerity and sarcasm, always leaving you guessing. “Come and coach me, then,” she’ll say, as if she’s issuing a challenge, or perhaps an invitation.

There’s this one time, after too many drinks and not enough sleep, when you actually consider it. You catch yourself scrolling through Spanish real estate listings, as if browsing apartments for sale in Barcelona is a casual hobby rather than a subconscious form of planning. You tell yourself it’s just idle curiosity, a way to pass the time, yet you’re finding out the details—locations near the stadium, neighbourhoods with the best views, penthouses with terraces that would catch the Mediterranean breeze. You click on the photos of sun-drenched balconies and tiled kitchens, pretending you’re only fantasising about a different kind of life, one where you’re not constantly looking over your shoulder for the next tabloid scandal or PR crisis.

But then you sober up. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror of a five-star hotel suite in Madrid, taking in the disheveled hair, the dark circles under your eyes, and you remember who you are. You’re not the kind of person who throws away their life for someone else, certainly not for a woman you haven’t even kissed since that one stolen night, a night that’s become less real and more like a story you tell yourself to explain this unshakable obsession. Besides, you’d probably make a terrible coach.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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The largest campaign finance violation in US history

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

Earlier this month, some of the richest men in Silicon Valley, led by Marc Andreesen and Ben Horowitz (the billionaire VCs behind Andreesen-Horowitz) announced that they would be backing Trump with endorsements and millions of dollars:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/dereksaul/2024/07/16/trump-lands-more-big-tech-backers-billionaire-venture-capitalist-andreessen-joins-wave-supporting-former-president/

Predictably, this drew a lot of ire, which Andreesen tried to diffuse by insisting that his support "doesn’t have anything to do with the big issues that people care about":

https://www.theverge.com/2024/7/24/24204706/marc-andreessen-ben-horowitz-a16z-trump-donations

In other words, the billionaires backing Trump weren't doing so because they supported the racism, the national abortion ban, the attacks on core human rights, etc. Those were merely tradeoffs that they were willing to make to get the parts of the Trump program they do support: more tax-cuts for the ultra-rich, and, of course, free rein to defraud normies with cryptocurrency Ponzi schemes.

Crypto isn't "money" – it is far too volatile to be a store of value, a unit of account, or a medium of exchange. You'd have to be nuts to get a crypto mortgage when all it takes is Elon Musk tweeting a couple emoji to make your monthly mortgage payment double.

A thing becomes moneylike when it can be used to pay off a bill for something you either must pay for, or strongly desire to pay for. The US dollar's moneylike property comes from the fact that hundreds of millions of people need dollars to pay off the IRS and their state tax bills, which means that they will trade labor and goods for dollars. Even people who don't pay US taxes will accept dollars, because they know they can use them to buy things from people who do have a nondiscretionary bill that can only be paid in dollars.

Dollars are also valuable because there are many important commodities that can only – or primarily – be purchased with them, like much of the world's oil supply. The fact that anyone who wants to buy oil has a strong need for dollars makes dollars valuable, because they will sell labor and goods to get dollars, not because they need dollars, but because they need oil.

There's almost nothing that can only be purchased with crypto. You can procure illegal goods and services in the mistaken belief that this transaction will be durably anonymous, and you can pay off ransomware creeps who have hijacked your personal files or all of your business's data:

https://locusmag.com/2022/09/cory-doctorow-moneylike/

Web3 was sold as a way to make the web more "decentralized," but it's best understood as an effort to make it impossible to use the web without paying crypto every time you click your mouse. If people need crypto to use the internet, then crypto whales will finally have a source of durable liquidity for the tokens they've hoarded:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/16/nondiscretionary-liabilities/#quatloos

The Web3 bubble was almost entirely down to the vast hype machine mobilized by Andreesen-Horowitz, who bet billions of dollars on the idea and almost single-handedly created the illusion of demand for crypto. For example, they arranged a $100m bribe to Kickstarter shareholders in exchange for Kickstarter pretending to integrate "blockchain" into its crowdfunding platform:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/untold-story-kickstarter-crypto-hail-120000205.html

Kickstarter never ended up using the blockchain technology, because it was useless. Their shareholders just pocketed the $100m while the company weathered the waves of scorn from savvy tech users who understood that this was all a shuck.

Look hard enough at any crypto "success" and you'll discover a comparable scam. Remember NFTs, and the eye-popping sums that seemingly "everyone" was willing to pay for ugly JPEGs? That whole market was shot through with "wash-trading" – where you sell your asset to yourself and pretend that it was bought by a third party. It's a cheap – and illegal – way to convince people that something worthless is actually very valuable:

https://mailchi.mp/brianlivingston.com/034-2#free1

Even the books about crypto are scams. Chris Dixon's "bestseller" about the power of crypto, Read Write Own, got on the bestseller list through the publishing equivalent of wash-trading, where VCs with large investments in crypto bought up thousands of copies and shoved them on indifferent employees or just warehoused them:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/15/your-new-first-name/#that-dagger-tho

The fact that crypto trades were mostly the same bunch of grifters buying shitcoins from each other, while spending big on Superbowl ads, bribes to Kickstarter shareholders, and bulk-buys of mediocre business-books was bound to come out someday. In the meantime, though, the system worked: it convinced normies to gamble their life's savings on crypto, which they promptly lost (if you can't spot the sucker at the table, you're the sucker).

There's a name for this: it's called a "bezzle." John Kenneth Galbraith defined a "bezzle" as "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it." All bezzles collapse eventually, but until they do, everyone feels better off. You think you're rich because you just bought a bunch of shitcoins after Matt Damon told you that "fortune favors the brave." Damon feels rich because he got a ton of cash to rope you into the con. Crypto.com feels rich because you took a bunch of your perfectly cromulent "fiat money" that can be used to buy anything and traded it in for shitcoins that can be used to buy nothing:

https://theintercept.com/2022/10/26/matt-damon-crypto-commercial/

Andreesen-Horowitz were masters of the bezzle. For them, the Web3 bet on an internet that you'd have to buy their shitcoins to use was always Plan B. Plan A was much more straightforward: they would back crypto companies and take part of their equity in huge quantities of shitcoins that they could sell to "unqualified investors" (normies) in an "initial coin offering." Normally, this would be illegal: a company can't offer stock to the general public until it's been through an SEC vetting process and "gone public" through an IPO. But (Andreesen-Horowitz argued) their companies' "initial coin offerings" existed in an unregulated grey zone where they could be traded for the life's savings of mom-and-pop investors who thought crypto was real because they heard that Kickstarter had adopted it, and there was a bestselling book about it, and Larry David and Matt Damon and Spike Lee told them it was the next big thing.

Crypto isn't so much a financial innovation as it is a financial obfuscation. "Fintech" is just a cynical synonym for "unregulated bank." Cryptocurrency enjoys a "byzantine premium" – that is, it's so larded with baffling technical nonsense that no one understands how it works, and they assume that anything they don't understand is probably incredibly sophisticated and great ("a pile of shit this big must have pony under it somewhere"):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/13/the-byzantine-premium/

There are two threats to the crypto bezzle: the first is that normies will wise up to the scam, and the second is that the government will put a stop to it. These are correlated risks: if the government treats crypto as a security (or worse, a scam), that will put severe limits on how shitcoins can be marketed to normies, which will staunch the influx of real money, so the sole liquidity will come from ransomware payments and transactions with tragically overconfident hitmen and drug dealers who think the blockchain is anonymous.

To keep the bezzle going, crypto scammers have spent the past two election cycles flooding both parties with cash. In the 2022 midterms, crypto money bankrolled primary challenges to Democrats by absolute cranks, like the "effective altruist" Carrick Flynn ("effective altruism" is a crypto-affiliated cult closely associated with the infamous scam-artist Sam Bankman-Fried). Sam Bankman-Fried's super PAC, "Protect Our Future," spent $10m on attack-ads against Flynn's primary opponent, the incumbent Andrea Salinas. Salinas trounced Flynn – who was an objectively very bad candidate who stood no chance of winning the general election – but only at the expense of most of the funds she raised from her grassroots, small-dollar donors.

Fighting off SBF's joke candidate meant that Salinas went into the general election with nearly empty coffers, and she barely squeaked out a win against a GOP nightmare candidate Mike Erickson – a millionaire Oxy trafficker, drunk driver, and philanderer who tricked his then-girlfriend by driving her to a fake abortion clinic and telling her that it was a real one:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/14/competitors-critics-customers/#billionaire-dilletantes

SBF is in prison, but there's no shortage of crypto millions for this election cycle. According to Molly White's "Follow the Crypto" tracker, crypto-affiliated PACs have raised $185m to influence the 2024 election – more than the entire energy sector:

https://www.followthecrypto.org/

As with everything "crypto," the cryptocurrency election corruption slushfund is a bezzle. The "Stand With Crypto PAC" claims to have the backing of 1.3 million "crypto advocates," and Reuters claims they have 440,000 backers. But 99% of the money claimed by Stand With Crypto was actually donated to "Fairshake" – a different PAC – and 90% of Fairshake's money comes from a handful of corporate donors:

https://www.citationneeded.news/issue-62/

Stand With Crypto – minus the Fairshake money it falsely claimed – has raised $13,690 since April. That money came from just seven donors, four of whom are employed by Coinbase, for whom Stand With Crypto is a stalking horse. Stand With Crypto has an affiliated group (also called "Stand With Crypto" because that is an extremely normal and forthright way to run a nonprofit!), which has raised millions – $1.49m. Of that $1.49m, 90% came from just four donors: three cryptocurrency companies, and the CEO of Coinbase.

There are plenty of crypto dollars for politicians to fight over, but there are virtually no crypto voters. 69-75% of Americans "view crypto negatively or distrust it":

https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2023/04/10/majority-of-americans-arent-confident-in-the-safety-and-reliability-of-cryptocurrency/

When Trump keynotes the Bitcoin 2024 conference and promises to use public funds to buy $1b worth of cryptocoins, he isn't wooing voters, he's wooing dollars:

https://www.wired.com/story/donald-trump-strategic-bitcoin-stockpile-bitcoin-2024/

Wooing dollars, not crypto. Politicians aren't raising funds in crypto, because you can't buy ads or pay campaign staff with shitcoins. Remember: unless Andreesen-Horowitz manages to install Web3 crypto tollbooths all over the internet, the industries that accept crypto are ransomware, and technologically overconfident hit-men and drug-dealers. To win elections, you need dollars, which crypto hustlers get by convincing normies to give them real money in exchange for shitcoins, and they are only funding politicians who will make it easier to do that.

As a political matter, "crypto" is a shorthand for "allowing scammers to steal from working people," which makes it a very Republican issue. As Hamilton Nolan writes, "If the Republicans want to position themselves as the Party of Crypto, let them. It is similar to how they position themselves as The Party of Racism and the Party of Religious Zealots and the Party of Telling Lies about Election Fraud. These things actually reflect poorly on them, the Republicans":

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/crypto-as-a-political-characteristic

But the Democrats – who are riding high on the news that Kamala Harris will be their candidate this fall – have decided that they want some of that crypto money, too. Even as crypto-skeptical Dems like Jamaal Bowman, Cori Bush, Sherrod Brown and Jon Tester see millions from crypto PACs flooding in to support their primary challengers and GOP opponents, a group of Dem politicians are promising to give the crypto industry whatever it wants, if they will only bribe Democratic candidates as well:

https://subscriber.politicopro.com/f/?id=00000190-f475-d94b-a79f-fc77c9400000

Kamala Harris – a genuinely popular candidate who has raised record-shattering sums from small-dollar donors representing millions of Americans – herself has called for a "reset" of the relationship between the crypto sector and the Dems:

https://archive.is/iYd1C

As Luke Goldstein writes in The American Prospect, sucking up to crypto scammers so they stop giving your opponents millions of dollars to run attack ads against you is a strategy with no end – you have to keep sucking up to the scam, otherwise the attack ads come out:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-07-31-crypto-cash-affecting-democratic-races/

There's a whole menagerie of crypto billionaires behind this year's attempt to buy the American government – Andreesen and Horowitz, of course, but also the Winklevoss twins, and this guy, who says we're in the midst of a "civil war" and "anyone that votes against Trump can die in a fucking fire":

https://twitter.com/molly0xFFF/status/1813952816840597712/photo/1

But the real whale that's backstopping the crypto campaign spending is Coinbase, through its Fairshake crypto PAC. Coinbase has donated $45,500,000 to Fairshake, which is a lot:

https://www.coinbase.com/blog/how-to-get-regulatory-clarity-for-crypto

But $45.5m isn't merely a large campaign contribution: it appears that $25m of that is the largest the largest illegal campaign contribution by a federal contractor in history, "by far," a fact that was sleuthed out by Molly White:

https://www.citationneeded.news/coinbase-campaign-finance-violation/

At issue is the fact that Coinbase is bidding to be a US federal contractor: specifically, they want to manage the crypto wallets that US federal cops keep seizing from crime kingpins. Once Coinbase threw its hat into the federal contracting ring, it disqualified itself from donating to politicians or funding PACs:

Campaign finance law prohibits federal government contractors from making contributions, or promising to make contributions, to political entities including super PACs like Fairshake.

https://www.fec.gov/help-candidates-and-committees/federal-government-contractors/

Previous to this, the largest ever illegal campaign contribution by a federal contractor appears to be Marathon Petroleum Company's 2022 bribe to GOP House and Senate super PACs, a mere $1m, only 4% of Coinbase's bribe.

I'm with Nolan on this one. Let the GOP chase millions from billionaires everyone hates who expect them to promote a scam that everyone mistrusts. The Dems have finally found a candidate that people are excited about, and they're awash in money thanks to small amounts contributed by everyday Americans. As AOC put it:

They've got money, but we've got people. Dollar bills don't vote. People vote.

https://www.popsugar.com/news/alexandria-ocasio-cortez-dnc-headquarters-climate-speech-47986992

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If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/31/greater-fools/#coinbased

#pluralistic #coinbase #crypto #cryptocurrency #elections #campaign finance #campaign finance violations #crimes #fraud #influence peddling #democrats #moneylike #bubbles #ponzi schemes #bezzles #molly white #hamilton nolan

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