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fawniswriting · 2 months ago

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𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐞

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: After a mission filled with close calls and bad decisions, the team comes home to find an even bigger threat waiting at the door—your wrath.

Warning(s): THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS!!! platonic!thunderbolts x reader. no use of y/n. use of the nicknames doll, honey, and pretty girl. canon typical violence. descriptions of injuries. descriptions of explosion, gun use, etc. established relationship. profanities. kissing. VERY suggestive content (minors be advised). talks of having a baby. bucky being a little feral (very briefly). slightly hurt/comfort. basically bucky and reader being the parents of the group.

Word Count: 3.6k-ish

Author's Note: GUYS I saw this fanart on instagram and instantly knew that I had to write something inspired by it!!! I've been itching to post a thunderbolts fic since last week 😭 welcome back 2012-2014 era of avengers' tower fanfics ✨️ anyway I hope they're keeping the revolution hair for bucky in doomsday or else I swear I'm gonna RIOT!!! (I know seb's head is shaved rn but wigs exist yk 😔) don't forget to comment, like, and reblog loveliesss 🩷

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky Barnes doesn't understand a lot of things since he returned to society.

Cryptocurrency is one of them. Social media is another. Anything that involves more acronyms than actual words is an immediate no on his list.

Above all else, Bucky Barnes struggles to comprehend how exactly he became responsible for the group of walking disasters now hailed as earth's newest, mightiest heroes.

Looking at the pack of hellions in front of him, Bucky has serious doubts about that title.

Right in the middle of the tower's lobby, the Thunderbolts—the New Avengers now, apparently—are scattered like barbie dolls in the aftermath of a toddler's tantrum. John is standing against a column with a tight jaw, his left leg lifted gingerly, wrapped in a makeshift splint that looks suspiciously like someone's utility belt. Beside him, Yelena sits on the ground, legs sprawled in front of her as she cradles a bruised shoulder with an equally bruised hand. Alexei leans atop the front desk with a dried blood streaking down his temple, the young receptionist gone in fright the moment the team walked through the tower's entrance. Even Ava, usually one to disappear before debriefs, is visible for once, propped against the wall with her suit half-glitched and her expression blank.

Everyone is accounted for. Everyone is breathing.

But they all look like they rolled down a hill of bad choices where they banged their heads at every rock.

The mission was supposed to be a quiet recon, a simple surveillance on a rumored underground tech sale in an abandoned shipyard, low risk with minimal engagement. But then someone—Bucky still doesn’t know who—decided that they could handle it.

No heads-up. No plan.

Just four impulsive thrill-seekers interrupting a high-stakes black market deal involving high-tech plasma rifles and an offended buyer with too many goons.

By the time Bucky caught wind of what was happening, it was already chaos. He had to go in solo, extract the squad under heavy fire, disrupt the shipment, and reroute an entire response team of hostiles to avoid further catastrophe. They got out—just barely—and none of them seemed particularly eager to look him in the eye about it, especially after the thirty-minute tirade he launched into somewhere between fourth gear and a traffic jam.

From his place in front of the elevator, Bucky crosses his arms. “If any of you pull something like that again, you're all getting benched. Indefinitely.”

“What?!” Alexei roars.

Yelena scowls. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You don't get to make that call, Bucky,” John protests.

Ava nods. “We're not children. You can't just ground us whenever you feel like it.”

“Yeah?” Bucky laughs. Sarcastically. “Watch me, kid.”

As if on cue, the elevator arrives with a ding. Bucky gestures curtly towards the opening metal door. “Inside. Now.”

Reluctantly, the team shuffles in like a group of sheep being herded back into their pen for a much-needed nap time.

For a beat, the only sound that settles inside the cramped space is the low mechanical hum of the elevator ascending.

That is until Ava decides to speak up.

“I’m just saying,” she begins, “it wasn’t like we meant to crash the deal. We were just improvising.”

“Improvising?” Bucky exclaims, glaring at her. “You call tossing a grenade into an active negotiation improvising?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Yelena argues, crossing her arms. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Bucky screeches, his tone rising. “Walker nearly lost a leg!”

“It's just a sprain,” John clarifies. “Probably.”

“See? It's just a sprain!” Yelena repeats a little too cheerfully. “He'll be good as new in no time. Right, John?”

John nods, failing to conceal his wince when Yelena bumps her unharmed shoulder to his.

Bucky rubs his temples. “I can’t believe I’m in charge of you people.”

The elevator dings again at the top floor.

“You know,” Yelena says as the team stumbles out of the metal trapbox, “we technically stopped the deal. You're not giving us credit for that.”

“That’s because you weren't supposed to stop the deal. You were supposed to observe.”

“Back in my day, observe meant punch first, ask questions later,” Alexei quips.

Bucky lets out a scathing scoff that echoes through the air. “Right. Remind me again how many years you spent rotting in that Siberian prison, Alexei?”

“Well, that's not very nice,” John mutters.

“You know what else isn't nice, Walker?” Bucky growls. “Getting your asses lit up by dozens of machine guns because none of you seem to grasp the basic concept of following orders.”

The group swelters in a momentary silence.

“I mean, in our defense,” says Ava, “none of us actually got shot.”

Before Bucky can tell her off even further, a voice suddenly intercepts, “How fabulous! You guys didn't get shot? Geez, someone really should give you all a medal for that.”

The whole team stops in their tracks.

One by one, everyone turns their head towards the direction from which the voice has come. The view that greets them could probably send a perfectly healthy man straight into an early grave.

On the platform floor a few paces away, they find you standing with arms folded across your chest. Despite the bright lilt of your voice, your eyes are cutting as they assess the entire team with the judgement of a juror who has already decided on a guilty verdict. It's clear from your attire that you were freshly off work before going straight to the tower, and since everyone knows that you were supposed to be on a work trip to Philadelphia for at least another two days, it’s safe to assume that your ticket back was booked right around the time someone shouted “mission compromised!”.

It's a full ten seconds of shared disgrace before Yelena finally breaks the silence.

“You called her?” she hisses, landing an accusatory glare in Bucky’s direction.

“I did not.” Bucky scoffs. “And why does it matter if I did?”

“Bucky didn't call me,” you interject, your posture still rigid, your gaze still icy.

“Then who—no.” Yelena's eyes drift towards the kitchen, squinting as she takes in the figure trying to hide behind the doorway. “Bob.”

Ava snaps her head up. “Bob, you little shi—”

“That’s enough,” you jump in, moving sideways to conceal Bob from Ava's murderous line of sight. “He's got nothing to do with this. This is about you—all of you—and what a stupid, reckless, dangerous thing you just did.”

Under your scrutiny, the whole squad shifts like a pack of raccoons caught rummaging through the kitchen trash. The weight of your stare seems to age them all by a decade.

“I'm gonna give all of you two minutes to explain yourselves,” you declare, the authority in your tone indisputable. “And I already know what happened, so don't even think about trying to trick me.”

There is a lull in the air where everyone seemingly tries to process your demand.

When their mouths open again, what follows is not so much an explanation as it is a verbal dogpile. Everyone starts talking all at once—too loud, too fast, and entirely contradictory. John tries to lead with the logistics, only to be steamrolled by Alexei shouting something about creative liberty. Ava attempts to downplay the situation with a jovial “it was barely an explosion!” while Yelena throws her under the bus with a hasty “she started it!”.

Bucky—standing to the side with the posture of a man watching his funeral getting turned into a Dollar Store circus—doesn’t even bother stepping in. He knows better.

You hold up a single finger and the room quiets instantly, like someone pressing mute on a trashy sitcom argument. The stillness that follows is so heavy, even the lights begin to flicker in anticipation.

“But we got out fine!” Ava sputters, desperate to fill in the quietness, though her voice immediately thins when she adds, “Mostly.”

“Yeah! I mean, it's just a bruise here, a bruise there—everything's great.” Yelena grins.

Your sharp stare slides towards John, the lines between your eyebrows tightening as you take in the awkward angle of his injured leg. John nearly cowers under your piercing gaze.

“How bad is the damage?” you question, your voice booming throughout the surrounding space.

“What, this? Oh, it's not that bad. Probably just need to ice it then I'll be good as new—”

“Walker.”

It's hardly a secret that John is perhaps your least favorite person in that room, with you still clearly holding a grudge towards him for what happened with the Flag Smashers. The man is used to your constant cold shoulder by now. He expects it, even. More often than not, John finds himself wondering if you would ever warm up to him the way you have with the rest of the team.

And yet, as he now stands at the end of your long stare, John can't help but think that perhaps your silent treatment isn't really that bad. Especially if it means he doesn't have to be on the receiving end of the critical scrutiny you're currently aiming towards him.

The blond gulps.

“There's a forty percent chance it might be broken,” John admits. “But it's likely just dislocated. No big deal.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Get to the medbay and tell them to run a scan,” you command. “Alexei, go with him.”

“That's not necessa—”

The sharp glare you're sending him causes John's words to lodge in his throat.

Alexei springs right into action, steering John away from your ferocious perusal and back towards the elevator.

“C'mon, big guy,” Alexei bellows. “Let's go pay a visit to our doctor friends.”

As soon as the two men disappear into the elevator, your glower shifts towards the remaining two people standing behind Bucky. Yelena pretends to check her nails while Ava's eyes are roaming the ceiling with faux nonchalance, both a pathetic attempt to avoid the clear daggers in your stare. The ridiculousness would've made you chortle were you not livid beyond salvation right now.

“I want you two to go back to your rooms, clean yourselves up, and be back here in no more than thirty minutes,” you proclaim. “We'll continue our discussion after dinner.”

“Wait, hold on—”

“That's not—”

“Just go, you two,” Bucky interrupts, the blue in his eyes colder than the Arctic ocean. “That wasn't a request.”

The two figures slump in defeat, teetering towards the staircase with the speed of a turtle in a morning rush hour. You hear Yelena grumbling something in Russian under her breath, and you force yourself not to think about what the phrase might mean lest you want your skin to crawl in an even higher degree of vexation.

“Good gracious.” Bucky shakes his head.

Behind you, Bob emerges out of the kitchen, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly as he approaches you like a wounded kitten.

“They're mad at me, aren't they?” Bob murmurs. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you guys fight with each other.”

“It's not your fault, sweetie,” you assure him, extending your hand and offering a comforting squeeze around his palm. “They're just being idiots right now. You did good, okay? Give it a few hours and I promise you, they'll forget about this already.”

Bob nods solemnly, his voice quiet as he excuses himself and trudges towards the common area. You release a breath as you observe him diving head first onto the sofa, burying his face in the cushion like a Victorian widow fainting onto her chaise.

Turning around, your eyes lock with another pair in blue. The smile on Bucky's face grows as he takes you in, his arms opening with all the intention to collect you in his embrace.

“Hey, doll. I've missed—”

“No. Stay right there.” You raise your palm, taking a step back. “I'm mad at you, too.”

Bucky blinks.

He watches you turn around and walk away from him, his arms coming down limp by his sides before he scutters after your retreating form. Bucky lingers in the doorway as you move about the kitchen, taking out pots, knives, and pans while slamming the cabinet doors shut in the process. You don't even spare him a glance as you start retrieving fresh ingredients from the fridge.

“Honey?” he calls out, voice meek beneath the echo of your knife slicing through onions on the counter. “C'mon, doll, you're really not gonna talk to me?”

“No.”

The chopping continues.

Bucky rubs his face.

“You know I'm just as disappointed in them as you are, right?” he begins. “Swear to God, doll, I had nothing to do with this. Didn't even know what those rascals were planning ‘till I got the call from Alexei. Told ‘em off as soon as I extracted them outta there.”

“Hm.”

Sighing, Bucky takes a tentative step forward, then another, finally closing the distance when he's sure you wouldn't smack him across the head with the chopping board in your hand. His fingers find purchase around your elbow, halting your movements, the gentleness aching as he spins you around to face him. The knife and half-sliced onion lie dormant on the counter.

“Hey,” Bucky utters, so softly that the air nearly swallows the word whole. “Talk to me?”

You heave in a shaky breath, evading his eyes. “What's there to talk about? I told you I'm pissed.”

“Okay, that part I already got.” Bucky chuckles, brushing the back of his palm on your cheek. “Help me understand why? At least tell me how I can fix it, pretty girl. Hm?”

Your silence quivers at the edges, growing more brittle with each swipe of Bucky’s touch on your skin. The walls around your heart crumble under his infuriating tenderness.

“When Bob called and said the team had gone radio silent, I—” you pause, swallowing hard, “—I thought something terrible happened. I booked the first train out of Philly before I even hung up.”

Bucky stays quiet, watching you with careful eyes.

“I couldn’t reach anyone. Not John, not Yelena, not Ava, not Alexei—not you. And the longer I waited, the worse it got in my head. I pictured the mission going sideways. All of you gone.” You inhale sharply. “I pictured all of you coming home in body bags.”

Bucky's heart breaks at the shudder he feels running through your back. His soul is already mourning over the loss of light he would usually find shining so brightly out of your eyes. It makes him cling to you just a tad bit tighter.

“Bob finally called me again to tell me that you're all fine. That you're on your way back. But that's not the point, Bucky.” You look at him then, your fingers flexing. “The point is, I should've never heard about all of this from Bob in the first place. I should've heard it from you.”

Bucky's shoulders sink. “I didn't want you to worry.”

You shake your head, eyes burning with the threat of unshed tears. “But I do worry, Bucky! That’s the point. I worry every single time. The moment all of you step out of this building, I'm counting down the minutes until you guys return to me again. You can't shield me away from that.”

He steps closer, removing what little bit of distance between the two of you until all of your atoms are nearly merged as one. “You're right. You are. I should’ve called. Should've trusted that you'd want to know, even if it might scare you.”

“It did scare me,” you whisper. “And I didn’t want Bob’s voice telling me everything was okay. I wanted yours.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs, his arms pulling you nearer. “No more leaving you out. I promise it’ll be me from now on. I'll tell you everything, doll. Always.”

A shuddering breath leaves your lungs, and just like that, you completely melt away under Bucky's touch. Your forehead drops against the line between his shoulder and chest, your fingers gripping his sides as though he was the very force keeping you tethered to earth. Meanwhile, Bucky's lips ghost over the top of your head, whispering sweet nothings, the contrasting temperature of his palms appeasing you with random patterns against your back.

“I don't know how this all started,” you confess. “I'm not sure when I began caring this much about those idiots, but I do. The thought of something happening to them—to you—to all of you…”

Bucky's arms tighten around your frame. “I know, honey. I feel the same way.”

“This is not what I had in mind, you know?”

You tilt your head back to stare at his face, your fingers tangling themselves in the soft waves that Bucky has been growing out over the past few weeks. He almost cut them all off several days ago, but after some convincing on your end—which may have included activities that found your fingers buried in the soft tendrils and his face buried somewhere else—you managed to talk him out of it.

Bucky's eyebrows lift. “What do you mean?”

“Well… when you said that you were joining this team, I thought I'd never seen a more dysfunctional group of people in my entire life. I figured it'd be a miracle if all of you last a whole month without someone quitting or accidentally blowing each other up.” You chuckle, your eyes softening. “I didn't think I'd end up pacing the hallway every time you guys went out, worrying like some overworked mother of five.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, his forehead falling onto your own. “I get it. This wasn’t exactly how I imagined myself stepping into the dad role either, but… here I am.”

“Yeah?” Your lips quirk up. “How did you imagine it then?”

“Well—” Bucky's voice drops, his breath warm where it fans against your skin, “—I figured it’d start with a little house, somewhere quiet. Nothing fancy. Just enough for us to start building a life in. I’d fix the place up real proper. You’d hum to yourself as you whip up one of those famous pies of yours, and I’d pretend not to stare.”

The cheeky grin on Bucky's face grows, prompting a laugh out of your chest. His thumb continues to trace idle circles upon your waist.

“Then, when you feel the time's right, we’d try for a baby. The old-fashioned way. Real slow, real sweet. I’d kiss you like I got all the time in the world, and make love to you like I didn’t.”

Something flutters inside your chest, like stardust stirring in a forgotten corner of the galaxy. The way Bucky is looking at you makes you feel as if you were the first breath of the universe itself.

“That's how I pictured us becoming parents,” Bucky adds, brushing his lips along your jaw. “Not… this. Whatever this is.”

You smile at the graze of his beard on your cheek, angling your head to capture him in a brief kiss.

“You know what I think this is, Buck?” you ask, teasing your lips against his own. “I think we should view this as a practice run. After all, how hard can it be to parent our own kid if we can do it to a group of five ridiculous, chaotic misfits, right?”

“Doll.” He sighs. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“Depends.” You hum, your lips twitching in feigned innocence. “If you think I'm imagining you putting a baby in me… then yeah, you're absolutely right.”

Bucky swallows your cheeky grin with a kiss, grunting against your mouth as he presses you back against the counter. The muffled moans you let out are music to his ears, a lascivious melody that rushes straight towards places he reserves explicitly for you. His hands slip under your blouse, roaming the expanse of skin, drifting lower and lower in search for the one place that could send him straight to heaven and—

“Yelena! Give it back to me!”

“I told you it wasn't me!”

Bucky groans.

The shrill voices resonate all the way down to the kitchen, followed by the unmistakable echoes of footsteps thundering down the staircase. Bucky makes a guttural noise of frustration as his face slumps into the crook of your neck.

“I swear to God, I’m gonna ship them to Asgard one of these days,” he mutters.

You snort, brushing your fingers through his hair and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

“Let's put a raincheck on the baby-making, soldier,” you purr, smirking when it spurs on a rumble from Bucky's chest. “Looks like I've got a fight to break up before we have two dead superheroes on our hands.”

He groans again, this time at the loss of your warmth as you slip out of his arms. From the kitchen's doorway, you raise an eyebrow towards the common area, perching your palms on either side of your hips as you take in the havoc ahead.

“What the hell is going on here?” you snarl.

“She stole my snacks!” accuses Ava.

“I don't even like Jammie Dodgers, you lunatic!”

“What a lot of crap. We all know you'd even eat chicken off the ground given the chance, you pig!”

“Fucking asshole—”

“Hey!” you interrupt, your voice sharp as you march towards the two fuming Avengers. “You call each other any more names, then I promise you, you're gonna wish you got shot on that mission today.”

Bucky watches the whole interaction from the kitchen with his arms crossed and a slow grin spreading across his face. He leans against the counter, studying you with the quiet reverence of a man who has found the meaning of home after decades of searching. Even in the midst of this domestic madness, even with the team’s antics grinding on his last nerve, he wouldn't trade a single thing in his life for anything else.

There are still a lot of things in this world that Bucky struggles to understand.

But with you by his side, and his entire team watching his six, he knows that he's got nothing to worry about.

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a-sad-secret-death · 2 years ago

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do you reckon kojima has seen the destiel news meme?

#shitpost #but like fr im actually curious now #like im reading this extract from his book that talks about the meme economy and human connection and I'm like #does he know about the destiel meme as a way of sharing news in a way that isnt that damaging to someones mental health #compared to others like tiktok/instagram which perpetuate doomscrolling #idk i think he'd enjoy it #hideo kojima #maddy rambles

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zetrystan · 2 months ago

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This sound worked pretty much perfectly for Teagan (karmada character) and Noah (my character)… so here. Had to do this. No pickles. 🥒👌😔 Based on a sound from brightcricket_24 on Instagram, extracted from one of ‪therealsamalkhatib‬'s videos!

#drawing #art #animation #pickles #Teagan #Noah #dnd #dungeons and dragons #pathfinder

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delphi-shield · 10 months ago

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SAY IT BACK ↪ letting them leave without an ily

finishing up some smaller things from my wip folder before i buckle down and work on the big stuff again. here's this doofy little fluff piece.

characters included: chris redfield, leon kennedy, jill valentine, ada wong

content: fluff. just fluff. established relationship. mildly ooc behavior for the sake of fluff (also known as being in a relationship and acting stupid)

You found it on TikTok - or maybe it was Instagram, or Facebook - doesn't matter. One of the media conglomerates had given you a horrible idea about how to tease your loving, devoted partner.

It's simple - when they said 'I love you' before they left for work, you just wouldn't say it back. What could go wrong?

Chris Redfield ↪

Did not notice. Secure. In his lane. Unbothered. Probably not moisturized. (Get him a nice oil, fragrance free. He'll like it more if you massage it into his muscles for him, spend a little extra time smoothing along the curve of his spine, up and over the tightness of his shoulders.)

If you're at the point with Chris where he's saying “I love you” in place of a goodbye, he doesn't need to hear you say it back. He's confident in your relationship. Hearing it is just a nice bonus.

You're going to get your own feelings hurt here. Sent yourself into a spiral. Like, damn, does he not listen? Does he not care? What the fuck is his deal?

Chris is legitimately confused when you bring it up to him later. Doesn't get the point of the whole thing. “Why wouldn't you just say you love me?” Head cocked to the side, so puppy-like you can practically see the velvety ears flopping over.

Really doesn't do the whole social media thing. Even when you show him videos as an example, he's just shrugging. "I'm pretty sure those are skits, honey. No one really reacts like that."

If only he knew. Hey - at least now you know that Chris is perfectly content in your relationship and won't let anything silly like this bother him. It's just a sign to ramp up the pranks - more practical jokes, less subtle, harmless emotional manipulation.

That's what you thought, at least, but when Chris flips the light off that night and sidles up behind you in bed, strong arms slipping around your middle and tugging you back to him, his voice rumbles in your ear - "You gonna tell me you love me, or is this gonna be a problem?"

And Chris is really good at extracting confessions. How badly do you actually want to get some sleep tonight?

Jill Valentine ↪

Doesn't seem to have noticed that you ignored her. Walked right out the door without missing a step, didn't even glance back. Her car pulls out of the garage, her sunglasses on - she seems entirely unbothered.

Oh, she’s bothered.

Jill Valentine is Not Petty™️. And she does not pout when her partner doesn't say ‘I love you’ back. She's in a pissy mood at work for a completely unrelated reason. She's not returning your texts because she's busy at work, not because she's trying (and failing) to give you a taste of your own medicine.

She definitely doesn't carry that storm cloud all the way home with her, doesn't rain on your parade when you cheerfully announce that dinner's ready and on the table.

You're trying everything you can think of to cheer her up. Asking about work got you a noncommittal shrug. You'd offered to draw a bath for her - or (preferably) for the both of you, but she'd dismissed the idea, talking about how it would take up too much time.

She didn't have the heart to shrug you off when you started massaging her shoulders. Despite your silence in the morning, you were clearly intent on taking care of her. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe you just hadn't heard her.

Her palm presses against your cheek, turns you to face her. She searches your eyes for a moment, her gaze unreadable. "Thanks for dinner. I love you."

Nothing. Fucking nothing. "You're welcome."

Jill knows that look on your face, that shit-eating grin that you're trying to cover up by glancing down, by pretending to be flustered. Her hands grip your hips. She manhandles you into her lap, chair scraping against the floor to make room for the both of you.

"Okay - spill. What's up with you?"

Once you explain, she's not mad about the whole thing, not really. But you can't help but notice that she's been withholding kisses lately, and-- wait.

Fuck. Now she's turned the tables on you.

Leon Kennedy ↪

Keeps finding new and inventive ways to double back inside the house. He's not going to outright ask you what's up - that would make him look desperate, which he’s totally not. He’s definitely not concerned at all that you didn’t complete your morning ritual and send him out the door with an ‘I love you’. He’s a big boy - this isn’t high school, this is his very mature, very adult relationship.

Excuse number one: “Sorry, forgot my keys,” as he makes a show of dropping his keys out of his pocket, onto the living room floor. His eyes are on you when he reaches to grab them. Leon tosses them in his hand, making as much noise as he possibly can. “All right, love you.”

You hold strong. Still no ‘love you’ back. He’s gone for all of 60 seconds when he comes back with excuse number two: “Ah, damn, forgot my badge. I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached.”

His badge is attached to his belt. You can literally see it. When you point that out to him, he makes a show of being relieved, goes so far as to press a kiss to your temple, and says, “God, what would I do without you? Love ya. Have a good day.”

But you hold strong. Until excuse number three:

“Babe, have you seen my gun?”

You laugh, which only makes him laugh - and then he hits you with ‘no, seriously’ while he leans against the doorway, hip cocked. He’s got you figured out by now, knows that if he can make you laugh then you’re not doing this because you’re mad at him or anything. He can't even be mad when you explain it to him. He can only warn you:

"I'm gonna get you for this. Now, c'mon - say it."

Ada Wong ↪

I don't know why you would do this to her to be honest. She just said ‘I love you’. You should be marking your calendar and turning this into a holiday.

She doesn't say it often, at least not while you're conscious. Whether she presses her sentiments into your hair while you sleep against her, drooling against her collar bone, is up for debate. You have no hard evidence and she'll deny the allegations.

It simultaneously is and is not a big deal. She didn't say it because she craved the validation of having you repeat it to her. She said it because she meant it. There's so few concrete truths about herself that she can share with you, but that was one of them. Does it sting a little not to have it returned? Maybe.

She turns the moment over and over in her head, letting it haunt her. You had given her time, she thinks, why can't she give you yours? But your silence is a specter that tinges every moment. It creeps at the edges of every thought, it–

“Hey, you forgot your coffee.”

She turns to see you in the door of your apartment, hanging from the frame with one hand, her cup extended to her in the other. She clicks back to you in her stilettos, and your press a kiss to her cheek when she claims her drink. The guilt of it all ate at you before you could let her leave your sight. “Love you. Be safe.”

She'd spiraled before she even got down to the parking lot. Total loser in love.

#leon kennedy x reader #chris redfield x reader #jill valentine x reader #ada wong x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil fluff #resident evil headcanons #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #chris redfield x you #jill valentine x you #leon kennedy #jill valentine #chris redfield #ada wong #leon kennedy fluff

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uncuredturkeybacon · 2 months ago

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𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 || 𝚊𝚣𝚣𝚒 𝚏𝚞𝚍𝚍 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you're loopy from anesthesia

You should’ve known Azzi wouldn’t let you go through your wisdom teeth extraction alone. The moment you brought it up in your shared dorm room, nervously fiddling with your hoodie strings, she’d immediately put a hand on your shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

And she was. Right along with Paige, KK, and Sarah, who insisted on tagging along purely for the chaos. You, on the other hand, were too doped up on anesthesia to know or care.

Which brings us to now.

The car is quiet for all of two seconds before you open your mouth.

“I think I’m in love with the sun.”

Paige, driving, glances in the rearview mirror with a smirk. “Weird way to say Azzi’s name, but okay.”

Azzi, who’s seated next to you in the backseat, watches as you lean dramatically against her shoulder, cheeks puffed out and eyelids drooping. “She’s prettier than the sun,” you murmur, as if it’s a grave injustice. “Like… have you seen her face? Her face is… like… like art. Like a Picasso.”

“Picasso?” KK chokes out from the passenger seat. “Bro. You sure you don’t mean a Renaissance painting or something?”

“Nooooo,” you whine, head tilting toward Azzi again. “I mean like the good Picassos. The ones that don’t look all melty and weird. She's the opposite of melty. She’s all, like… symmetrical and stuff.”

You blink up at your girlfriend, heart doing cartwheels in your chest. “You… you’re so pretty,” you mumble around the gauze, voice muffled and drowsy. “Like. Like so pretty. So. Prettttyyy. Prettier than like. Flowers. And like… sunset on a beach… and like that sparkly filter on Instagram.”

Paige, trying to focus on driving, lets out a snort-laugh. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

“No like. Like I love your face,” you continue, staring at her with awe, like you’ve never seen her before. “You have like. Eyes. And like. Cheekbones. And your lips are like. Boom.”

“Boom?” Sarah asks from the seat behind you. She’s riding along just for the entertainment at this point. “What does boom mean exactly?”

You lift your hand (with great effort) and vaguely make an explosion motion next to your head. “Boom,” you repeat. “Like. BOOM. Lips go boom.”

KK is wheezing.

“Oh my god,” KK says, recording all of it on her phone. “Azzi, you better save this. For her birthday. Her wedding. Her Hall of Fame induction.”

You tilt your head dramatically against Azzi’s arm, face scrunched in pure adoration. “And your arms, oh my god. Your arms are like… Greek statues. But like better. Like real life. And soft. But also strong. Like you could carry me and I’d be like ‘thank you I live here now’.”

Azzi chuckles softly, brushing a loose strand of hair off your forehead. “Thanks, baby,” she says sweetly, but her eyes are already dancing with amusement.

You blink up at her. “Your arms. Your arms are my favorite arms in the world.”

Paige is wheezing now. “Wait, what?”

“They’re so… strong. Like, I bet you could carry me and my emotional baggage. And like… a whole Costco haul. At the same time.”

Azzi’s trying not to laugh, but it’s impossible now. Her shoulders shake as you grab her bicep with both hands, eyes wide with childlike wonder.

“See?? Look at this! Look at this muscle! This should be illegal.”

Azzi’s laughing, full-bodied now, biting her lip to keep it together. She flexes her arm a little just to mess with you. “You like these arms, huh?”

“LIKE THEM?” you cry, suddenly very emotional. “I worship them.”

“Oh lord,” Paige groans, covering her face but laughing so hard she’s crying. “This is the greatest day of my life.”

“Like one time you were wearing that tank top in practice,” you ramble, eyes glazing over as you remember it with awe. “And I was like… should I call a priest? ‘Cause that was a religious experience.”

Azzi leans her head back against the seat, her whole body shaking from laughter now.

“I love her so much,” you whisper suddenly, voice cracking. Your eyes go wide and glassy. “Like. So much. Like. Like more than pizza. More than... nap time. More than sweatpants. More than muffins, Azzi.”

“Oh no,” KK says, as your face starts to scrunch like a baby about to cry.

“Muffins, bro?” Paige says. “That’s real love.”

Tears are now freely rolling down your cheeks. “She’s so beautiful, you guys. And smart. And she smells good. And she always ties my shoes when I’m tired. And one time I was sad and she brought me gummy bears and kissed my forehead and it FIXED EVERYTHING.”

Azzi wraps both arms around you and pulls you into her chest, laughing even as she blinks back a few of her own tears. “Baby, it’s okay. I love you too.”

You look up at her with big watery eyes. “Do you?”

“Oh god,” Sarah whispers. “We’ve entered the Dramatic Phase.”

“I do,” Azzi says, kissing your nose. “I love you so much.”

You sniff, then smile, cheeks puffed. “Yayyy,” you slur. Then, without warning: “I want to marry your arms.”

“Not you?” Azzi teases, brushing your messy hair back.

You pause. “You can come too. But your arms are the main event.”

Paige almost pulls over to the side of the road because she can’t drive through the laughter. KK is gasping like a fish. Sarah is doubled over.

“I’m gonna make this my phone wallpaper,” Paige says, pointing at the video of you stroking Azzi’s arm like it’s a priceless artifact.

“I’m gonna make shirts that say ‘I want to marry your arms’,” Sarah adds, wiping tears from her eyes.

Azzi just hugs you tighter, beaming like the proudest girlfriend in the universe. “You’re never living this down, by the way,” she whispers in your ear.

You mumble something incoherent into her shoulder.

“What was that, babe?” she asks gently.

“…boobs.”

Azzi is dying, trying to keep her composure while you pat her arm repeatedly like you’re making a point. “You don’t understand. These arms? They cook for me. They hug me. They shoot 3s. Swish!” You raise a limp arm in the air in an awkward imitation of her jump shot, smacking the car roof lightly.

Paige is crying now, laughing so hard the car swerves slightly. “Okay, okay—no impersonations in a moving vehicle, please!”

But then, without warning, you suddenly sniffle. Your face crumples like a sad raccoon.

“I just love her so much,” you sob, nose stuffy and gauze hanging from your lip like an unhinged vampire. “She’s so… beautiful. And kind. And nice. And smart. And she helps me study when I don’t understand econ. And she remembers my coffee order. And… and her smile? Her smile?! It’s like sunshine and glitter and heaven.”

The car falls into stunned silence. You hiccup. Then:

“Also her butt is really cute.”

That does it.

Paige literally pulls into the campus lot doubled over the wheel. KK slams her hand against the dashboard, crying with laughter. Sarah is recording the entire thing from the back, breathless with giggles.

Azzi, blushing furiously, has both hands on your cheeks now. “Okay, okay, babe. Let’s get you inside, yeah?”

You cling to her like she’s your personal teddy bear. “Will you marry me?”

Azzi chuckles, kissing your forehead. “One day. When you’re not on drugs.”

You squint up at her, serious as ever. “Okay. But your arms better still look like this.”

“They will,” she promises, half-laughing, half-melting. “Just for you.”

You beam like you just won the lottery, then look over at KK. “Can you officiate?”

KK clutches her stomach. “Say less. I got ordained online last week for this exact moment.”

They help you into the dorm, you still babbling about how Azzi’s smile is “probably what inspired the concept of light,” and how you’d fight God Himself if He ever tried to take her away from you.

Azzi tucks you into bed, wipes your drool, kisses your temple, and whispers, “I love you too, my dramatic little baby.”

Paige’s Instagram: [blurry selfie of the car] "Y/N's wisdom teeth got pulled and she proposed to Azzi mid-anesthesia. She also gave a TED talk on her biceps. 10/10 entertainment."

KK’s Tiktok: [video of you poking Azzi’s arm repeatedly] “She said ‘these arms do God’s work’ and started crying 💀💀💀” Song playing: “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Elvis

Azzi? She saved every single video. And so did you.

#paige bueckers #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #lesbian #wlw #paige buckets #azzi35 #azzi fudd #kk arnold #azzi fudd x reader #sarah strong

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webscreen-scraping · 9 months ago

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This blog suggests Step-by-Step Guide on how you can Scrape Instagram followers information with Python and get the scraped Instagram followers data easily.

#Scrape Instagram Followers Information #Extract from Instagram #scrape from Instagram Accounts

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storiesfromgaza · 2 years ago

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A message to everyone :

Ever since I began this blog and continuously shared its content, I never asked any of you to follow me, share these posts, or use the Blaze feature to promote them. I've been entirely absorbed in writing articles and translating stories and posts from the people of Gaza without concerning myself with whether they will reach a broad audience or not. My initial goal was to reach any number of individuals, even if it was just one person, in the hope of increasing their awareness. That would have been sufficient for me.

But today, particularly after the recent news confirming the complete shutdown of the internet, electricity, and communications in Gaza, along with the isolation imposed by the Israeli occupation and the brutal and savage bombings happening now as I write these lines, I want everyone to share what's happening. Not just on Tumblr but everywhere you can. Share on WhatsApp, Twitter, Instagram, and for those who are proficient in Russian, share on platforms like VK. If you know Korean, share in Naver cafes. Share with your family, your loved ones, and those you meet on the street. Let everyone know about the monstrous massacres the occupation is committing against Palestinian civilians, teenage girls and young women who have become widows due to the bombings, young children whose lives were forcibly taken from them while they clung to life, and the elderly who hoped for a longer life or a peaceful death beside their children and families, but the occupation robbed them of this, making the old man witness the deaths of all his family members, his children, and his grandchildren, and then he dies alone, hoping to join them.

O People, humans, whether you are Muslims, Christians, Jews, or followers of any religion, my message is for those of you who have humanity, whatever your identity may be. Your silence today means you are participating in an extermination worse than what Hitler did to the Jews, even worse than the victims of all the world wars combined. At that time, there weren't sufficient means of communication, so everyone's excuse was that they couldn't do anything except publish in newspapers. But today, in our current era, there are many available options. So, what's your excuse now?

Your silence and inaction are permission for them to continue their slaughter and the extraction of souls from their bodies. Let everyone do whatever is within their power, and all of us should know that we can do a lot. Edit: I've created a Telegram channel for us and posted all the articles and stories that have been published here, so you can easily share them with everyone. Join it through the following link: https://t.me/storiesfromgaza

Edit²: we now have an Instagram account, which we created to make it easier for everyone to share the stories and articles published here. Some of them have already been shared with beautiful designs, and we are in the process of posting the remaining articles after formatting and finalizing the designs. I had to use my personal account because when I created an account with the name "Stories From Gaza," Instagram suspended the account immediately, even before I could change the profile picture or post anything! Account username: @amrshater

Your interaction on Instagram will greatly help in spreading the stories and articles to the Instagram audience https://www.instagram.com/amrshater/

#gaza #palestine #غزة #فلسطين #humanitarian crisis #genocide #free gaza #free palestine #gaza strip #storiesfromgaza

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neferaskingdom · 9 months ago

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♡ Closetgate: The Max-tastrophe | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: Max finds himself in a very tight situation—literally. Lando is summoned for an emergency extraction, Charles serenades about honor, Y/N fights for her life trying to prove that nothing happened and the boys plan Max's funeral, but hey at least they finally kissed?

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Part 4 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series: Masterlist

Y/N never expected this to happen. One moment, she was causing chaos on Instagram with that elevator pic—harmless fun, right? But Max’s confession came out of nowhere, and now she was standing in her apartment, heart pounding.

She barely had time to process the fact that she’d just invited Max over, let alone get ready. Y/N looked down at her oversized, mismatched pajama set, which sported a giant, ridiculous “I Paused My Game to Be Here” T-shirt. Definitely not the “I’ve just confessed to liking my childhood rival” look she was going for.

She barely had time to question her life choices before there was a knock at the door. When she opened it, Max stood there, leaning against the doorframe like he wasn’t about to change everything. He gave her that classic smirk, but something felt different tonight—softer, more uncertain.

“Did you run here or teleport?” she asked, unable to hide her surprise.

“I might have broken a few traffic laws,” he joked, walking in like he hadn’t just sprinted across town. He glanced around her apartment, then at her, still wearing her gaming shirt. "Nice shirt, by the way," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Verstappen. I didn’t expect you to break the sound barrier to get here.” Max chuckled, plopping down on her couch like he belonged there. "You texted, I ran. It's the natural order of things."

"You actually came," she blurted, mostly because she didn’t know what else to say. The second the words left her mouth, she realized how ridiculous they sounded. "You told me to," Max shot back, stepping inside without missing a beat. "What, did you think I’d say no?"

"I don’t know! Maybe?" she stammered, closing the door behind him. "This whole thing is weird!"

"Weird how?" Max turned to face her, looking genuinely confused. "Because I confessed or because you didn’t see it coming?"

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands up. "Both! Max, we’ve spent most of our lives arguing over who’s funnier and which one of us sucks more. And now you’re telling me you like me? You don’t just drop that bomb and act like everything’s normal!"

Max shrugged, trying to act casual, but there was something in his eyes that made Y/N’s stomach flip. "I’m not saying it’s normal. I’m saying it’s real. We joke around because that’s us. But I like you, Y/N. I’ve liked you for years. I just didn’t want to mess up what we had."

Y/N’s mind was racing. She couldn’t reconcile the Max in front of her with the one who used to relentlessly call her out on social media. “So, what? You’ve been secretly into me while roasting me all these years? And I’m just supposed to be like, ‘Yeah, cool, let’s date now?’”

Max smiled, but it wasn’t his usual cocky grin. It was softer, more vulnerable. "I get it. It sounds insane. But I’m serious. When I saw that post, Y/N… I thought you had someone else. And it hit me harder than I expected. I realized I didn’t want to just be the guy you bicker with online. I wanted more than that."

She stared at him, still processing. "So, you’re telling me this now because of one random photo?"

"It wasn’t just the photo," Max said, stepping closer. "It was the idea that I’d waited too long. That I might have missed my shot."

Her heart skipped a beat. This was getting real, fast. Y/N crossed her arms, more to protect herself from the flood of emotions than anything else. "Max… I don’t know what to say."

Max chuckled lightly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck—a nervous habit she’d noticed over the years. "You don’t have to say anything. I just couldn’t keep pretending anymore."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. There was something so raw and honest about him right now, and it was messing with her. This was Max—her partner in social media wars, her favorite person to annoy. And now, he was standing in her living room, confessing feelings that she didn’t know how to handle.

Finally, she let out a breathy laugh. "You’re really bad at timing, you know that? I was just getting used to us hating each other."

Max’s smile widened. "We never hated each other, Y/N."

"Sure felt like it sometimes," she muttered, though there was no bite behind her words. She was too busy trying to sort through the tangled mess of emotions in her head.

"Come on," he teased softly. "You know we’ve always had a thing."

"A thing?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so insulting each other in public and trolling each other on Instagram was just our way of flirting?"

Max stepped closer, and this time, there was no teasing in his voice. "For me, yeah. That’s always been part of it. But it’s more than that."

Max says with a shrug. “I like you because you're chaotic and you keep me on my toes. Plus, I figured all the teasing was basically foreplay.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!” She grabbed a throw pillow and launched it at him. “That is not how that works!”

Max laughed, catching the pillow and tossing it aside. “Hey, if it’s not, it should be! We’ve been bantering for years—it’s basically flirting with extra steps.”

She facepalmed, letting out a frustrated groan. “This is so not how I expected this conversation to go. You’re taking all of this way too casually!”

Y/N’s heart was beating so loud she was sure he could hear it. "Max, this is a lot. I didn’t… I didn’t expect this."

"I know." His voice was soft now, almost unsure. "But I had to tell you. I’ve been holding it in for so long, and I thought—"

"That you’d shoot your shot now?" she cut in, trying to lighten the mood even though her head was spinning.

He grinned, finally relaxing a bit. "Exactly. You can’t blame me for that, right?"

She bit her lip, trying to hide a smile. "I guess not. But… Max, I—"

He raised a hand, stopping her. "You don’t have to say anything right now. I just wanted to be honest. For once."

Y/N sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her. "But here’s the thing… I kinda, sorta like you too." The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she immediately wanted to crawl into a hole.

Max blinked, then his smile widened into something she’d never seen before—completely genuine and warm. "Kinda, sorta, huh?"

She rolled her eyes, though her heart was flipping. "Don’t make this weird."

"Too late," Max said, stepping even closer, his voice playful but soft. "You’ve already made it weird."

Y/N groaned. "You’re impossible."

"And you like me anyway," Max shot back with a grin, his face just inches from hers now.

Y/N sighed, her defenses finally crumbling as she looked up at him. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Y/N sat down beside him, feeling the weight of the situation settle in. She looked at him—his stupid grin, his messy hair, his absolute lack of any chill—and suddenly it all clicked. This wasn’t some weird joke or prank. Max actually meant every word.

"Okay," she said slowly, still processing. "But I reserve the right to make fun of you for the rest of our lives."

Max grinned, scooting closer. “Deal. But you should know, I’m not backing down. Now that I’ve made my move, I’m all in.”

“God, you’re so dramatic,” Y/N muttered, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, you kinda like me that way,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes. But deep down, she knew he was right.

Before she could say anything else, Max leaned down, his lips brushing hers in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that swept her off her feet or made fireworks explode, but it was perfect. It was exactly what she didn’t know she needed.

When he pulled back, he was still smiling, his hand lingering on her cheek. "Told you we’ve always had a thing."

Y/N was too flustered to argue, her mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. "Okay," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "But don’t think this changes anything. I’m still gonna kick your ass at karting ."

Max chuckled, pulling her into his arms. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

They kissed again, and this time it was longer, more intense. Y/N felt herself melting into Max’s arms, his hands gently resting on her waist as he pulled her closer. She could feel the warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart under her fingertips as her hands slid up to his chest. His lips were soft but insistent, and there was a tenderness in the way he kissed her, as if he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than she had imagined.

Her hands slipped up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and Max responded instantly, deepening the kiss in a way that made her head spin. For a few blissful seconds, all the banter, the teasing, and the chaos of their lives disappeared, leaving only the two of them and the unspoken tension that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.

When they finally pulled apart, slightly breathless, Y/N looked up at him, trying to steady her pounding heart. Max's lips were still curved into a small, satisfied smile, and his thumb absentmindedly traced the side of her hip.

“You know,” she started, trying to regain her composure, “if you’re going to stay, I could, uh, make some space on the couch.”

Max raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning in full force. “You want me to spend the night?”

Her face heated instantly, but she refused to let him see her squirm. “Don’t get too excited, Verstappen.” She poked him in the chest, narrowing her eyes playfully. “No funny business. It’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a last-minute confession for me to invite you to my bed.”

Max chuckled, his laugh low and sending a ripple of warmth down her spine. He leaned in, his voice dropping to that maddening, teasing tone she was starting to realize she might actually like. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on funny business, Y/N.” His lips brushed her ear, making her shiver slightly. “I’m gonna wine and dine you, take my time. By the time I’m done, you’ll be begging me to come to bed.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his words, and she smacked his arm, trying to play it cool, though her heart was practically doing somersaults. “Begging?” she repeated, a disbelieving laugh escaping her. “You’ve officially lost your mind.”

Max, completely unbothered, grinned like the cat who caught the canary. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“God, I’m going to regret this,” Y/N muttered, though a smile tugged at her lips.

“Only if I don’t get the chance to prove you wrong,” Max shot back smoothly, his arm casually wrapping around her waist as if they’d done this a hundred times before.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through her. “Fine. You get the couch. And maybe—maybe—we’ll see about that whole wining and dining thing later.”

Max leaned back, stretching out on the couch with that same cocky grin. “Challenge accepted.”

Text Message between Y/N and Lando:

y/n: LANDO I’M GONNA DIE. y/n: LIKE ACTUAL DEATH. COME TO MY APARTMENT NOW.

lando: huh??? lando: it’s 8am, woman chill lando: also why is this my problem

y/n: CHARLES IS HERE y/n: HE SHOWED UP AT 7AM AND HASN’T SHUT UP FOR AN HOUR y/n: He’s on a WHOLE monologue about "family honor" y/n: I AM GOING TO JUMP OUT THE WINDOW IF YOU DON’T HELP ME

lando: and again lando: why… is this my problem? 💀

y/n: BECAUSE MAX IS HIDING IN MY CLOSET, LANDO y/n: IF CHARLES FINDS HIM HERE, I’M GONNA NEED TO WRITE A EULOGY y/n: HELP

lando: … lando: hold up HOLD UP MAX IS WHERE NOW???

y/n: CLOSET. MAX IS IN THE CLOSET. y/n: LIKE. LITERALLY HIDING IN MY CLOSET RIGHT NOW BECAUSE CHARLES IS RANTING ABOUT THE ELEVATOR PICTURE

y/n: AND IF CHARLES FINDS HIM HERE HE’LL LITERALLY COMMIT MURDER!!!

y/n: HURRY UP AND GET HERE I NEED A DISTRACTION y/n: HE’S GOING TO KILL US BOTH AND THEN DRAG OUR BODIES THROUGH THE STREETS OF MONACO

lando: LMFAOOO NOT MAX HIDING IN THE CLOSET LIKE HE’S IN A TEEN ROMCOM 💀 lando: YOU AND MAX??

lando: Wait so like. Did you two… y’know? 👀

y/n: NO NO NO IT’S NOT LIKE THAT, I SWEAR. y/n: WE DID NOT HOOK UP. NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: but if charles finds him he’s not gonna believe that, you KNOW how dramatic he is

lando: Then why’s he in your closet, huh?

lando: You’re telling me you two were just doing nothing at 7am, and now he’s hiding from your overprotective brother??

lando: This is sus af 💀

y/n: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: He came over to… uh… talk? y/n: BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT!! HURRY THE HELL UP BEFORE CHARLES GOES FULL "BIG BROTHER PROTECTOR MODE" AND THINKS THE WORST

lando: Soooo Max just "talks" now? Sure, sure. Just casually talking at 7am at your apartment. lando: I bet he was gonna give you a "lecture" of his own, wasn’t he? 😉

y/n: I’M GOING TO BLOCK YOU IF YOU DON’T STOP.

y/n: HURRY UP, LANDO.

lando: yeah your brother’s gonna yeet Max into the Mediterranean Sea 💀 lando: this is absolutely gold lando: I’m grabbing popcorn, one sec

y/n: STOP JOKING I’M SERIOUS LANDO y/n: CHARLES IS GOING ON ABOUT “RESPECT” AND “TRADITION” LIKE WE’RE IN A DAMN PERIOD DRAMA y/n: HURRY UP AND GET HIM OUT OF HERE. CHA IS LITERALLY OUT HERE RAMBLING ABOUT "RESPECTING FAMILY HONOR."

lando: Fiiiine, I’m getting out of bed. lando: But seriously, Max? Who would have guessed? That’s hilarious. You could’ve picked a better hiding spot tho 💀

y/n: YOU THINK I HAD TIME TO COORDINATE A BETTER PLAN WHEN CHARLES SHOWED UP OUT OF NOWHERE???

lando: You could’ve gone with like… under the bed? Maybe pretend he’s a delivery guy? 😂 lando: Closet’s too obvious, mate. Rookie mistake.

y/n: OKAY, SPYMASTER LANDO, HOW ABOUT YOU FOCUS ON GETTING HERE AND NOT ON MY HIDING STRATEGIES?

lando: wait sooooo lando: MAX REALLY STAYED OVER?? 👀 lando: I’M TELLING YOU, I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING BETWEEN YOU TWO. YOU DON’T HIDE IN CLOSETS FOR JUST ANYONE, SIS

y/n: WE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING LANDO. I SWEAR TO GOD. y/n: BUT IF YOU DON’T GET HERE, CHARLES IS GONNA ASSUME THE WORST AND START DIGGING A GRAVE

lando: fine fine I’m coming 💀 lando: this is too good tho, I’m never letting you live this down lando: if Charles finds Max it’s gonna be like “sooo, Max, wanna explain why you’re hiding in my sister’s closet like a serial killer?”

y/n: LANDO. I WILL BLOCK YOU. y/n: JUST GET HERE NOW, BEFORE I HAVE TO FAKE MY OWN DEATH TO ESCAPE THIS SITUATION

lando: can’t wait to see you try to explain why Max is suddenly living in your closet 😭😭 lando: tell Charles Max is helping you with a home renovation or some shit 💀 lando: I’ll be there soon to save your ass

y/n: IF YOU DON’T HURRY, IT’LL BE MY FUNERAL YOU’RE COMING TO. y/n: I’M NOT KIDDING, LANDO. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

lando: Yeah yeah I’m on it.

lando: But if Max survives this, I wanna be best man at the wedding 🥂

lando created a group

lando added Y/N, max, daniel, george and alex to the group

lando has changed the name of the group to “Drive to Survive: Closet Edition”

lando: EMERGENCY GROUP CHAT. STOP EVERYTHING. 🚨

george: Bro, it’s like 9AM. What now??

alex: Bro, what is it this time?? Did you lose your keys again? 💀

daniel: Lando, I swear to God, if this is about you locking yourself out of your car again, I’m leaving the group chat.

lando: NO. BIGGER. MUCH BIGGER. lando: I had to save Max’s life this morning. 😳

max: lando, if you even—

lando: MAX WAS HIDING IN Y/N’S CLOSET THIS MORNING.

y/n: LANDO, I SWEAR TO GOD—

george: HOLD ON. Max was hiding in what now?? george: MAX. HIDING. IN Y/N’S CLOSET?! 💀

alex: WAIT WAIT WAIT. MAX?! IN HER CLOSET?? alex: Sounds like an F1 driver version of "Narnia." 🦁 alex: But instead of a lion, you found… Max?

daniel: Wait, hold on. HOLD UP.

daniel: Max was hiding? In Y/N’s closet?

daniel: Were you two… busy? 👀

daniel: This is starting to sound like the setup to a very different kind of movie, if you know what I mean…

lando: RIGHT?! Closet boy Max out here sneaking around at 7AM.

y/n: NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: CHARLES SHOWED UP OUT OF NOWHERE AND MAX HAD TO HIDE OR HE’D BE DEAD.

lando: She’s underselling it. Charles was out here talking about "honor" like we were back in medieval times.

max: she’s not wrong, charles had murder in his eyes talking about Y/N’s hypothetical boyfriend

george: So, you’re telling me Max was hiding in Y/N’s closet because big bro Charles was about to lose his mind? george: LMAO Max, mate, you were this close to becoming roadkill at the next race.

george: This is gold. Max, you hiding like a teenage boy sneaking out of a girl’s room?! How much were you sweating?

max: look, it was either the closet or death by leclerc

alex: Soooo... you were hiding because…? 👀

alex: If Charles finds out, he’s definitely running Max off the track next race. alex: Or worse, he’ll crash right into him. 💀

daniel: Run him off the track? Charles would straight-up crash into Max next race, no questions asked. 💀

george: Mate, can you imagine? Lap 20: "Verstappen crashes after mysterious contact with Leclerc." 🤔

george: "Sources say Charles Leclerc was last seen revving his engine and screaming about his sister’s honor."

daniel: Bro, I can already see the headlines: "Verstappen DNF—Cause: Leclerc Rage." daniel: Max would be like, "I’m innocent!" while Charles just revs the engine like, "Try me bitch."

lando: Charles would be all smiles in the press conference like, "It was an unfortunate incident…" lando: Meanwhile, Max’s car would still be smoldering in the background.

max: ngl, he’d probably reverse just to make sure it’s done right 😬

alex: "Accident," sure, Charles. I’m sure brake checking Max into the wall was totally accidental.

daniel: Sooo… why were you hiding, Max? 👀 daniel: Closet redecoration? Or were you two getting cozy? 😏

lando: Oh, come on, there’s no hiding in closets unless something was happening. Let’s be real here. 👀

max: look, i was just… you know… max: avoiding death by overprotective brothers. that’s all.

george: Sure, Max. Just avoiding "death"… by hiding in her closet. Sounds innocent. Totally.

alex: Did you fold her clothes while you were in there, or just admire the view? 😂

daniel: Oh, we’re calling it "admiring the view" now, huh?

max: you guys have dirty minds, jesus

lando: Bro, you were literally in her closet. This is peak suspicious behavior.

y/n: NOTHING HAPPENED. y/n: STOP MAKING THIS WEIRD. 🙃

lando: Y/N, babe, you don’t just shove someone in your closet for no reason. There’s something here.

daniel: Yeah, like… what were you two really doing before Charles showed up? 👀 daniel: C’mon, no one hides someone unless they’re in the middle of… something.

y/n: I swear to god, if one more person suggests anything—

max: maybe i was just there to give her fashion advice 🤷‍♂️

george: OH, so that’s what they’re calling it now? "Fashion advice." Sounds steamy.

daniel: So what’d you suggest, Max? "Less clothes"? 😏

y/n: I’M LITERALLY GOING TO MUTE THIS CHAT. NOTHING HAPPENED.

lando: Uh-huh. Sure. lando: You don’t just casually invite Max over to give you "advice" in the early hours of the morning unless something’s going on. Just saying. 😉

daniel: I mean, I’d hide Max too if he showed up like that… 👀

alex: "Like that"? Sounds like Max was already halfway to being undressed. 💀

y/n: YOU GUYS ARE THE WORST.

max: you get used to it after a while

lando: Okay, okay, jokes aside… are you two, like, officially a thing now?

max: yeah, y/n and i… we’re seeing where this goes. officially.

george: OMG, IT'S HAPPENING. MAX AND Y/N ARE OFFICIALLY A THING. 🎉

lando: SOUND THE ALARMS, EVERYONE. lando: We’ve got ourselves a new grid couple. 👀

daniel: Ahhh, the "closet inchident" seals the deal. Love it. You Leclerc’s sure do love your Inchidents

alex: Soooo… have you told Charles yet? Or do we get to keep this secret and watch the chaos unfold?

y/n: ABSOLUTELY NOT. NONE OF YOU SAY A WORD. y/n: Do you WANT Max to end up in a wall at Monza?!

george: Max already looks like he’s preparing his will. 😂

max: pretty sure charles will crash into me on lap 1 if he finds out too early

daniel: I mean, Charles is gonna "accidentally" forget how to brake if he finds out Max’s been sneaking around his sister. 💀

lando: Yeah, next race? You’re gonna see Charles giving Max the death stare before they even get to Turn 1.

max: I’ll be lucky if I don’t get run off the track before lap 10

alex: Charles be like, "Oh sorry, did I cut across your line? Total accident, mate."

george: Imagine Arthur joining in, double-teaming Max on the straights. 💀

alex: "Sorry mate, but family’s family."

daniel: Max, if Charles finds out you were in her closet, he’s coming for you both on and off the track. No question.

lando: I can see it now—Max and Y/N in the paddock: "Charles, listen, it’s not what it looks like!" Meanwhile, Charles is just revving the engine, ready to take you out. 😂

max: and here i thought the danger was over when i left her apartment

alex: Bro, the danger just began. Charles is about to add "track rage" to his skillset.

daniel: "Oh, Max? Never heard of him. My car just had a mind of its own today." daniel: RIP Verstappen 1997-2024 💀

lando: You’ll go down as a legend, Max. "The man who was brave enough to date a Leclerc and live to tell the tale."

max: that’s if i make it past monza

y/n: YOU’RE ALL DRAMATIC.

george: Dramatic? Us? No way. george: I’m just saying, you better have a solid excuse ready when Charles finds out.

y/n: We’ll tell him eventually. Just… not now. y/n: And until then, if any of you open your big mouths, Max’s blood is on your hands.

daniel: So, what’s the plan? Keep hiding Max in your closet until you tell Charles? 💀

y/n: technically, yes.

y/n: But until then, NONE OF YOU SAY A WORD. LET ME HANDLE THIS.

lando: I mean… if I accidentally let it slip, is that on me or on the fact that Max was literally hiding in a CLOSET? 🤔

max: thanks lando, really appreciate it

daniel: Don’t worry, Max, we’ll make sure your funeral’s nice. Real classy. 💐

alex: I’ll bring flowers. Something dramatic, like roses. 🌹

george has changed the name of the group to “Max's Funeral Planning Committee"

george: Should we do slow-mo highlights of Max’s best overtakes at his funeral? Maybe some sad violin music?

lando: I’m picturing Max’s ghost standing next to Charles, watching the replays like, "Really? This is how I go out?" 💀

y/n: YOU’RE ALL INSANE. STOP JOKING ABOUT THIS.

george: We’ll make sure it’s an open casket. But, you know, open… after Charles crashes into it.

y/n: I’M BLOCKING ALL OF YOU.

lando: Can’t imagine how you'd even explain Max’s sudden appearance in your wardrobe to Charles. "He’s just helping with interior design, bro!" 😂

max: okay okay, enough. max: but for real, don’t tell charles anything yet.

daniel: Sure, we’ll keep the secret. For now. But we want front-row seats when you break the news.

y/n: Let me handle it before anyone here decides to run their big mouth.

lando: Big mouth? Me? Never. 😉

george: You know, this whole "keeping it secret" thing feels very Romeo and Juliet.

lando: Yeah but without the poison, please.

daniel: More like, Romeo hiding in Juliet’s closet while her brother lectures her for an hour. 😂

alex: "Romeo, why are you still in that closet?" alex: "Shhh, Charles will kill me."

max: i hate you all

alex: Don’t worry, Max. We’ll be at the next race, just in case Charles accidentally loses his brakes. 😂

y/n: You’re all the worst. 🙄

lando: Max, you better not be hiding in anyone else’s closet anytime soon. lando: Or else this group chat’s gonna have to upgrade to "Max’s Closet Chronicles: The Sequel."

y/n: Don’t give him ideas.

george: Max: Professional F1 Driver by day, Closet Houdini by night. 😭

max: i hate you all

y/n: Welcome to the club.

daniel: This is gonna be legendary.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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ofstarsandvibranium · 23 days ago

Text

Late Night Bake Sesh

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x GN!Reader

Summary: Insomnia has been plaguing you lately and, as a result, you end up doing some late night baking. Turns out, you’re not the only one suffering with insomnia lately.

Marvel Masterlist

You didn't know why sleep evaded you. For the past few days, you just couldn't fall asleep. So much was on your mind, it seemed, because it wouldn't shut off. You'd lay in bed for hours, tossing and turning. You tried listening to white noise, put on ASMR videos, sprayed lavender and eucalyptus on your pillows, and nothing!

After the third day of having trouble falling asleep, you decided you'd just make yourself tired.

So baking is what you resorted to.

You had saved several different baking recipes on TikTok and Instagram, always telling yourself that you'll get to them some day.

Well that day is today.

You're currently making zucchini bread. You thank the personal chef that Val has hired for you guys for always keeping the fridge stocked with everything and anything you could need.

You have all the ingredients laid out on the counter. You're in the process of grating the zucchini when you see movement in your peripherals. You look up to see Bob standing there.

"Oh, uh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

You softly smile at him, "You're fine, Bob," you gesture for him to come closer and he does.

"Can't sleep either?" he asks as he sits on the stool on the other side of the island counter from you.

You shake your head, "Nope. The insomnia demon has made me her bitch. I've tried everything but," you gesture to your head, "can't turn it off, it seems."

Bob hums, "Yeah. I get what you mean," he looks down and stares at the counter top, "I've always had issues falling asleep. It's been getting a little better now that I'm seeing that sleep therapist, but, you know, I had bad nights sometimes."

"I'm guessing tonight is one of those nights."

He gives an exhausted sigh, "Unfortunately."

"You wanna help me?"

"Oh, uh, I'm not much of a baker or anything."

You shrug, "It's fine. I'm not either, but I'm following a recipe I found on TikTok and it's pretty easy." You set the zucchini and grater you had and grab another set, plus a bowl, "Here," you slide them to Bob across the counter, "Grate all of that into the bowl, just be careful not to cut yourself."

"Easy enough," he mumbles and gets to it. You watch as his brows scrunch up, he picks up the zucchini and then looks at the grater. It's clear he's not sure what to do.

You chuckle, "Watch me," you pick up your own zucchini and grater, "You hold the zucchini right up against the grate, and run it up and down the grate. Put enough pressure to really press it up against it." You watch him do it and you smile, "Exactly! Now just do that until it gets down to the nub."

You two work in silence, grating the zucchinis. You're the first to finish so you get to working on the dry ingredients. You combine the flour, sugar, cinnamon, salt, baking powder, and baking soda in a bowl.

"Think that's as much as I could get now," he shows you the bowl and the nub of the zucchini.

"Yup! Here," you slide over three eggs, "crack these into the bowl," you also slide the bowl of the dry ingredients. While Bob does that, you measure out the oil and then also dump it in the bowl. Then you pour in some vanilla extract as well.

You hand Bob a whisk, "Mix it all together, please, while I grease the bread pan."

Bob silently takes the whisk and begins mixing everything together. You watch him in your peripherals. Due to his aggressive mixing, wavy strand falls into his face. He tries blowing it out of the way, but it continues to fall back into his face.

You snort, "Hold on," you go to a draw where you and the rest of the Thunderbolts team likes to toss junk inside, "Ha!" you exclaim, pulling out a bobby pin. You round the counter to Bob, getting up close and pinning the stubborn strand into place, "There," you smile brightly at him.

He clears his throat, cheeks reddening, "Oh, uh, thanks."

"You're welcome," you respond, going back to the pan and continuing to grease it.

Bob speaks up as he slows his mixing, "So you like to bake?"

"I suppose," you give a little shrug, "I've always been fascinated by it. My grandma loved to bake. I loved watching her bake all these muffins, cakes, pastries. I especially love eating them. I wish I took notes of her recipes. She passed when I was twelve, then it was just me and my grandpa."

"I'm sorry," Bob says, looking genuinely empathetic.

"I miss her, but I'm glad she passed when she did or else seeing all the shit I did definitely would have did her in."

"I never knew my grandparents. Any of them. It was just me and my parents and...that wasn't a great childhood." He slides the fully mixed batter to you.

"I'm sorry." You learned some of Bob's history from the other's but he's never explicitly told you anything until now.

He gives a nonchalant shrug, "It's okay. It's in the past and, yeah, it messed me up for a long time, but...I'm doing better."

You nod, "Good." You proceed to pour the batter into the pan and then place the pan into the oven, "So this will bake for an hour and then cool off for like thirty minutes."

"What should we do in the meantime?"

You snort, "Didn't think that far to be honest. We can chat more if you'd like. Or play cards, or just put a movie on."

"I'd like to talk more, if that's okay? I-I like talking to you."

You stare at Bob with a smile, "I like talking to you too, Bob."

After that night, this becomes a whole thing. Whenever you can't sleep, you'd bake and more often than not, Bob would find himself in the kitchen with you.

The team were starting to get used to waking up and finding random baked goods laid out on the counter for them, you and Bob cuddled up asleep on the couch. Everyone began to wonder if something was brewing between you two.

___________________

Bob is mixing the cake batter and he looks adorable. You laugh, taking a picture of him. You got him some cute hair clips for him to wear when you two bake. His hair is pinned down by cute bunny clips and they're ridiculously adorable on him.

You show him the picture and he chuckles, "God, I look stupid."

"You don't look stupid! You look cute!" you kiss his cheek and then realize what you did, "Fuck. Sorry. I don't-I shouldn't have done that."

You create a distance between you two. It was Bob's birthday tomorrow and you thought it'd be fun if you and he baked his birthday cake.

It was all good fun until you decided to kiss his cheek. Jeez, you really need to get a hold of yourself.

It'd been months since you and he started doing the late night baking sessions. Each session you two grew closer and closer. You eventually started having feelings for Bob, and how could you not? He was truly a sweet, kind, and funny guy once you get to know him and he opens up to you. You felt like it was inevitable. But you two are friends, colleagues. You can't mess something like that up with your feelings.

Bob clears his throat, "It's fine, but, uh, thanks. For the clips. Pretty cool birthday gift."

You scoff, "Oh no. That wasn't your birthday gift."

You run to the couch and grab the tote bag you carried from your room. You pull out a wrapped box, "This is."

"Can I open it?"

"Duh. Go for it, birthday boy."

"My birthday isn't until-"

"Oh my god, open it!" you command with a laugh.

Bob smirks and he tears the wrapping paper off. His eyes widen when his sees what you've give him.

He fully unwraps the box, staring at it in awe. It's the exact Transformer toy he wanted when he was a kid.

"How-"

"When you mentioned it, I searched it up online. Brand new, never opened."

He looks up at you, eyes tearing up, "Thank you. This," he pauses to sniffle, "this is the best gift anyone's ever gotten me."

"You deserve the best, Robby."

He goes over and hugs you, his arm tight around your body, "You don't know how much this means to me," he mumbles in your ear and you hug him back.

When he pulls away, he wipes at his eyes, "God, haven't cried on my birthday in a long time."

"But it's a good cry this time."

He chuckles, "Yeah. Definitely a good one," he breathes out a deep exhale, "Okay. Get it together, Robert."

You snort, "It's fine. I can take over."

You take up the spot he occupied previously, mixing the batter a little more so that it's more smooth. You then pour the batter into two cake pans, then placing them in the oven.

"Do you wanna finish the movie from the other night or start something else?"

"We can finish the movie," he says, taking your hand and guiding you to the couch where you both settle down. Pulling a blanket over you two.

You watch the movie in silence, but you feel the tension in the air. You try not to let it get to you. It's going to be Bob's birthday soon.

You survive the next forty-five minutes it takes for the cakes to bake. As soon as the oven beeps, you jump off the couch immediately, pulling the cakes out.

You and Bob each take a pan and flip it upside down over the cooling rack. You then put it in the freezer to quicken the process.

As you move to go wash the pans, Bob stops you, "Hey, Y/N?"

You look at him, "Yeah?"

He immediately takes your face in his hands and he presses his lips to yours. You're frozen in shock for a second before wrapping your arms around Bob.

You happily kiss him back, smiling into his lips. You feel him smiling back.

You pull away, a smile still on your face and a haze in your eyes, "Okay, that happened."

Bob chuckles and clears his throat, "Yeah," his voice is a little raspy and it's very attractive to you, "Yeah, that happened. I just-I just really, really like you. You've done a lot for me these past few months. You've been such a great friend and you're so kind and cute. I don't want to pretend that I see you as just a friend anymore."

"I don't either."

"And that gift. That was the icing on the cake about how I feel about you."

You chuckle, "Good pun."

"Thanks. Came up with it myself," he murmurs back, his hands go to your hips, "I guess I got my birthday wish a little earlier than expected."

"Lucky you," you mumble, pecking his lips, "Happy birthday, Robby. I'm kinda glad we both had insomnia that night."

"Yeah. Me too."

#bob reynolds #robert bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds fic #bob reynolds imagine #robert reynolds #marvel fic #thunderbolts fic

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littlelordfuckler0y · 1 month ago

Text

Bucky Barnes x wife!reader Instagram au

yellenna. This man is taking us somewhere against our will. Can’t believe democracy is in such hands. @congressman.barnes. +8 other government accounts tagged

john.walker I am also amongst the hostages but I’m here for their protection, not sure how long I can keep them safe alone.

-avastarr excuse you ????????

-yellenna. This is no hostage he cheered when he saw the congressman

-john.walker we have history together

r3dguardian There is no angle of him that is not badass.

-yellenna you can’t be serious

-r3dguardian jealousy is not good

congressmanbarnes 💪🇺🇸🙏

-comments are off

—

“Have you lost your mind?!” Her voice roared through the empty warehouse where Bucky had captured ‘Thunderbolts’. US pin and a well pressed blazer, perhaps Yelena’s post worked or Valerie sent someone to extract her dirty work.

“Oh hey hon-” before he could even finish that sentence the visibly angry woman turned her attention away from him and settled to the rest of them.

“I am so very deeply sorry…” she trailed off, somewhat extremely empathetic. A stark contrast to Bucky’s behaviour with them. “Oh this is just so bad” she took a deep breath when she saw their binds. “James.” She gestures towards their hands and asking him to free them.

He evidently didn’t want to but a stern look from her, not even a word just a look and he was on it. “Is she your boss?” Ava asked him, surprised at this shift.

“It’s Mrs Barnes.” John introduced her for the rest of the group. He knew she had a dislike him for a long while… “The political shark.”

“John.” She said with a curt smile, “Always a pleasure.”

“Do you prefer Mrs. Barnes or Potus’s right hand?” John snickered purposefully trying to irritate her.

“Do you prefer ex captain America or someone’s ex husband?” She shot back, unbothered as ever but still had to.

“You don’t have to get nasty” that smirk flattened off his face and he scoffed.

There wasn’t enough time to dwell in petty insults so she just shrugged, “Anyways, I’m so sorry you were all brought here this way. It was unauthorised and the administration didn’t know of it, I got here the second I found out about it” she explained removing her blazer to seem more friendly, walked over to Yelena, sitting next to her she took a deep breath. “All of you, you’ve had such a complicated hand at life. I’m deeply sorry.” She faced Yelena “I know your legend…you’re everything they say you are” she was truly in awe or was it just the political shark talking no one could tell. “If we were to delete the most recent post from your account…would it be an issue? It’s just to avoid exaggerated news headlines and you wouldn’t want that heat either would you?”

“Yeah yeah sure no worries…Miss-Mrs Barnes!” Yelena somewhat lost the plot of her words, the woman was extremely charming and her Instagram post of 6 likes was worth nothing.

“Please, it’s y/n.” She introduced herself like you would to a friend and placed a hand on her shoulder. Crisis resolved. Then faces Bucky again, “You.” She nodded at him to come to the side of the room. He knew he was in for huge trouble.

Instinctively he reached for her jacket and both her phones. Not his first rodeo. Every time he was in this situation he knew she moved her hands a lot when she talked her frustrations out. That’s why he took her stuff out of her hands so she could move her hands more freely as he’s getting an earful. “What were you even thinking?! You didn’t mention this at breakfast, This was your spontaneous thinking James? Your wonderful plan do you realise how bad your numbers are doing? No one’s going to account for congressman Barnes taking down Valentina they’re going to paint you out to be a Rogue agent? Not only that—”

“I messed up angel.” He admitted before she could go on, both of them knew that he didn’t exactly feel guilty about. His patience held no limit with her, because at times he’d barely register what she is saying because those wide stressed eyes, the fast words, the dedication and concern for him…he wasn’t used to it before her. Also how they first met through Sam, she was yelling at him for blowing up his chances for a meet with the mayor and he was just as captivated to listen to her as he is now.

“I’m not done” she held her hand out. “Your big tip is from that woman’s PA? I’m a third party person and I found this out do you think Valentina wouldn’t find out? Are you really risking someone’s well being this recklessly! And that picture Yelena posted-it is so authentically you no one’s believing it’s AI generated”

She was just going at him and he was just giving out soft and apologetic replies, the rest of them were really shocked to so say. “You’d be so viral if you posted whatever this is instead” John suggested with a snicker.

“He is so in love” Alexei looked at them in awe as he chuckled.

“I thought being a congressman would be a good fit for me and you got me there. It was wishful thinking and you made it happen. You have made a lot happen for me…you have made life happen. For me, us. I am sorry for letting you down like this I didn’t think it through” he gave a heartfelt apology taking her hands in his so she’d stop moving them, hands no longer moving equates to her calming down.

“I was really worried…” she trailed off with a sigh. “What’s even happened? What’s all this?”

“It’s a lab curated superhuman, one of Valentina’s test subjects actually worked right.” Bucky relayed the dreadful information.

“—So no aliens right?”

“Not yet”

“Please don’t say ‘yet’ that feels so bad, I shouldn’t even be knowing this I feel so stupid I asked there’s so much shit going on in DC and now there’s this nut job with an evil billionaire nut job-? Are you kidding me? Now this becomes classified information I can’t know about but I do know about, fuck—” hands were moving again as he got a hold of them.

“Hey, hey breathe.” He told her, breathing deeply to display it for her to mirror him. “It’s going to be alright. We will stop him.”

“I can’t know anymore about this because it links the Oval Office knowing about it and it’s already not a good mix, I’ve got to get back to DC apparently Potus accidentally quoted Kanye west in addressing the youthfest speech and because of my monstrous luck it just so happens that kanye’s tweeted 3 nazi tweets just last night.”

“You have to go?” He was a bit unease at the fact that she was away from him in such difficult times, wouldn’t be close enough in radius for him to protect her.

“I’ll be right back I’m using the chopper” she assured him taking her stuff back, leaning a bit close to him, caressing his face. “Promise me you’ll be safe?”

He nodded kissing the side of her hand and then pulled her close by her waist pressing a soft kiss onto her lips, “I promise” sealed with a kiss.

yourusername James is making a big deal out of farewell dinner for this apartment but I’m beyond glad to be out of the place you’ve to beat 2 hours of nyc traffic to get to…however… a great meal tagged barnesclickingstuff

yellenaa Welcome to the HQ

avastarr moving in with us HELL YEAH

john.walker Whatever to keep that museum jerk in line

r3d.guardian waaaitttt he has other account

*following are old posts*

barnesclickingstuff The missus is busy what do I do with my life :/

sam_wilson_ your dumbass always free

-barnesclickingstuff blocked

-sam_wilson_ that’s not how it works

barnesclickingstuff She won’t admit it but she’s afraid of manual cars

yourusername that is a lie and also makes no sense

-barnesclickingstuff then drive one

-yourusername Blocked

-barnesclickingstuff no thanks to you I’ve now figured out how blocking actually works

-barnesclickingstuff heyyy?

-barnesclickingstuff Did you actually block me

-barnesclickingstuff I was joking heyyy come back

barnesclickingstuff DC

yourusername bring your fiancé to work day!

sam_wilson_ hell no

barnesclickingstuff 🤍

barnesclickingstuff the actual view is defocused

yourusername aww

john.walker dear god he’s so corny

sam_wilson_ he can use outdated pick up lines…he was there when they were invented

barnesclickingstuff I pissed her off by packing her wrong shoes…I hope god smites me

sam_wilson_ How do you mess that up

yellenaa I can’t believe I’m saying this but this is so cute

r3d.guardian “Barnes clicking stuff” and all he is posting is his wife

Let me know if you guys want more parts w da thunderbolts arc? ;)

#instagram au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #sebestian stan #sebestian stan x reader #thunderbolts #winter solider x reader #winter soldier #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #thunderbolts fanfic #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

Text

Big Tech and “captive audience venues”

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in CHICAGO with PETER SAGAL next WEDNESDAY (Apr 2), and in BLOOMINGTON next FRIDAY (Apr 4). More tour dates here.

Enshittification is what you get when tech companies, run by the common-or-garden mediocre sociopaths who end up at the top of most businesses, are unshackled from any consequence for indulging their worst, greediest impulses:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/20/capitalist-unrealism/#praxis

The reason Facebook was once a nice place to hang out and talk with your friends and isn't anymore is that Mark Zuckerberg is no longer disciplined by competitors like Instagram (which he bought) nor by regulators (whom he captured), nor by interoperable tech like ad-blockers and alternative clients (which he uses IP law to destroy) nor by his own workforce (who have become disposable thanks to workforce supply catching up with demand). It used to be that Mark Zuckerberg couldn't really move the enshittification lever in the Facebook C-suite because these disciplining forces gummed it up. He had to worry about losing users, or about users installing alternative technology, or about regulators hitting him hard enough to hurt, or about workplace revolts. Now, he doesn't have to worry about these things, so he's indulging the impulses that he's had since the earliest days in his Harvard dorm, when he was a mere larval incel cooking up an online service to help him rate the fuckability of his female classmates.

When we had defenses, Mark Zuckerberg had to respect them. Now that we're defenseless, he's shameless. He's insatiable. He will devour us to the marrow.

When I'm explaining enshittification to normies, I often make comparisons to other places where you can't escape like airports and sports stadiums: "Facebook can afford to abuse you once they have you locked for the same reason that water costs $7/bottle on the other side of the airport TSA checkpoint." It's an extremely apt comparison, as you can verify for yourself by reading "Shakedown at the Snack Counter: The Case for Street Pricing," a new report from the Groundwork Collective:

https://groundworkcollaborative.org/work/street-pricing/

"Shakedown" makes the point that – as is the case with tech giants – sports stadiums and airports are creatures of vast public subsidy. If this seems counterintuitive, try Mariana Mazzucato's Entrepreneurial State, which lists all the ways in which the tech revolution represents a privatization of publicly funded research, as with the iPhone, whose semiconductors, internet connection, voice assistant technology, touchscreen and other components all count the public as a key investor:

https://www.pbs.org/newshour/economy/the-entrepreneurial-state-appl

And, as with airports and sports stadiums, the proprietors of the iPhone business are able to reap this gigantic public subsidy without taking on any public duties. Regulators that could impose some kind of public service obligations as quid pro quo for using public funds are AWOL, or worse, captured and complicit in the ongoing, publicly financed ripoff:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/15/private-law/#thirty-percent-vig

Airport, stadiums and tech platforms are all walled gardens – roach motels that are hard to escape once they've been entered. Thus the scorching prices of stadium and airport food, and the 30% transaction fees imposed by Apple and Google on app revenues (this is 1,000% higher than the average fees charged by the rest of the payment processing industry!), the 51% fees extracted by Google/Meta from advertisers and publishers (compare with the historical average of 15%), and the 45-51% that Amazon takes out of every dollar earned by its platform sellers. Once you're locked in, they can turn the screws, either by gouging buyers directly, or by gouging sellers, who pass those additional costs onto buyers.

Groundwork has a proposal to address this in physical settings: regulation. Specifically, a "street pricing" regulation that keeps the charges for food and drinks within these walled gardens to prices comparable to those on the outside. They note that these regulations enjoy wide, bipartisan support. 76% of Republicans support a regulation that can only be described as "price controls," two words that normally trigger head-explosions in the right.

How is it that such a commanding majority of Republicans can get behind government price controls? Simple: it's obvious that when a company no longer faces market discipline – when they're the only game in town (or on the other side of the TSA checkpoint) – that government discipline has to fill the vacuum, and if it doesn't, you will get mercilessly screwed.

This is where enshittification – a form of monopolistic decay unique to the tech sector – departs from everyday monopoly abuse in other sectors, like aviation and league sports. Tech has an in-built flexibility, the inescapable property of "interoperability" that comes standard with every digital system thanks to the universal nature of computers themselves.

Interoperable technologies let you hack Instagram to restore it to the state of privacy- and attention-respecting glory that made it a success in the first place:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

They let you monitor Facebook's failures to uphold its own promises about not profiting from paid political disinformation:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/06/get-you-coming-and-going/#potemkin-research-program

They let you claw back control over how Facebook's feeds are constructed:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/08/unfollow-everything/#shut-the-zuck-up

They let Apple customers maintain their privacy, even if they have the temerity to be friends with Android users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/07/blue-bubbles-for-all/#never-underestimate-the-determination-of-a-kid-who-is-time-rich-and-cash-poor

They let shoppers use Amazon to order from local mom-and-pop stores:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/10/view-a-sku/

They even let you destroy the net worth – and power – of Elon Musk:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/08/turnabout/#is-fair-play

Interoperability creates a unique, easily administered source of discipline over tech bosses that just isn't available as a means of countering the ripoffs we see elsewhere, including in sports stadiums and airports. That means that, far from being harder to fix than other disgusting scams in our society, tech is easier to fix. All that stands in the way is the IP laws that criminalize the kind of reverse-engineering work that allow the users of technology to have the final say over how the devices and services they rely on work:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

Those IP laws were spread around the world by the US Trade Representative, who insisted that every country that wanted to export its products to the US without punitive tariffs must pass laws protecting the rent-extracting scams of US tech giants. With those tariff promises now in tatters, there's never been a better time for the rest of the world to jettison those Big Tech-protecting laws:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/15/beauty-eh/#its-the-only-war-the-yankees-lost-except-for-vietnam-and-also-the-alamo-and-the-bay-of-ham

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/2025/03/28/street-pricing/#sportball-analogies

Image: Daniel Brody (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:South-Station-snack-bar-1970.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #street pricing #captive audience venues #groundwork collective #enshittification #we dont have to care were the phone company #regulation #competition #privatized gains socialized losses #sportsball #aviation #travel #monopolism #interop #interoperability #comcom #competitive compatibility #felony contempt of business model #adversarial interoperability

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