#I FLIPPING LOVE SAM MONROE

[sammonroesslut]

bf!sam headcanons!

no one asked for this but who cares!!

bf!sam who definitely drops the bad boy act around you and becomes whipped

bf!sam who will secretly hint at cuddles when hes pissed

bf!sam who runs up behind you and slaps your ass

bf!sam who makes out with you untill you both cant breathe

bf!sam who definitely beats up anyone who even dares to say anything bad about you

(modern) bf!sam who has you as his wallpaper, his insta pfp, his tiktok pfp and always posts you on his snap story

bf!sam definitely tried to beg you to have a streak on snap

bf!sam who loves fucking you at home while you parents are asleep

bf!sam who loves your smell, so he steals your perfume

bf!sam who loves to sneak into your room in the middle of the night just to "See you"

bf!sam who is definitely a switch

bf!sam who lets you do your makeup on him

bf!sam whos cheesy ass comes to your door/window with a bouquet of flowers for you

i want sam to be my boyfriend what the flip.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Hey I love your works and I was wondering if you could write a fluffy head cannon about dad Sam monroe with it being Sam's first Christmas as a dad for bunnycember. If this is possible then thank you and if not then I don't really mind. Thank you.

Author's note: anything for you nonnie

SAM MONROE who made a rocking horse for his little boy;

“Sammie,” you murmured, drawing your knees up to your chest as you inched closer to your boyfriend, watching him wrestle with the instruction manual. “We can just buy one, you know. You don’t have to do this yourself.”

Sam glanced at you, irritation flashing in his blue eyes as he flipped the booklet around like it would suddenly make sense. “No way. I’m not gonna be that kind of dad. This thing says it’s easy to put together, and I’ll be damned if I can’t handle it. Although…” He squinted at the pages again, his jaw tightening. “I’m convinced the idiot who wrote this wasn’t speaking human.”

You bit back a smile, watching as his frustration turned into sheer stubborn determination. “But,” you started hesitantly, trying to find the right words, “are you sure he even wanted this? I mean, he’s barely speaking yet…”

Sam turned to you, dropping the manual to the floor with a dramatic sigh. “Y/n,” he said, dead serious, though his lips twitched into a small, cocky smirk. “I saw it in his eyes, okay? He practically begged me for this damn rocking horse.” His voice softened, pride lacing every word as he added, “And what my little man wants, he gets. End of story.”

SAM MONROE who insists he’s 'not into Christmas', but the way he gently wraps the lights around the tree while explaining to his son why the star goes on top says otherwise.

SAM MONROE who you find in the nursery. He’s got the baby cradled in one arm, a book of Christmas stories in the other. His voice is low and soft as he reads “The Night Before Christmas,” pausing every so often to kiss your baby’s head and whisper, “I’m going to make every Christmas better for you, little guy.” but lets be honest, I think Sam would pass some parts from the book(s) cause for him it'd be too cringy and he'd just add something that isn't in the book but he came up with

SAM MONROE who gets stressed about finding the perfect gift for your son, even though he’s too young to remember it. He drags you to a dozen toy stores, debating the merits of a stuffed animal versus a set of wooden blocks. “It has to be something meaningful,” he mutters. In the end, he settles on a plush bunny

SAM MONROE who complained that it’s “embarrassing,” after you picked out an adorable reindeer onesie for your son yet you catch sam taking about a million photos of the baby wearing it. He even changes his phone wallpaper to one of those pictures, though he’ll deny it if you call him out.

SAM MONROE who woke up earlier than you’ve ever seen him, eager to see your son’s reaction to the gifts under the tree. The baby is more interested in the wrapping paper than the toys, but Sam doesn’t care. He sits on the floor in his flannel pajamas, helping your son tear the paper while grinning like a kid himself.

SAM MONROE who surprisingly insists on starting a new family tradition—baking cookies together on Christmas Day. You both end up covered in flour while the baby bangs a spoon against the counter. The cookies are misshapen and slightly burnt, but Sam calls them “perfect” and he sneaks one into his son’s tiny hand, ignoring your protests of the late hour

SAM MONROE who has his little son on his lap during decorating of cookies - he'll so gently hold the boy's puffy hand, aiming it so the frosting wouldn't go somewhere else than on the cookie. He ends up putting some icing in the his and the boy's mouth to 'make sure it tastes good'

SAM MONROE who helps his little son build his first snowman - and even takes hundred of pics from different angles but if you'd (or anyone) catch him, he didn't do them. He'd also lift his boy so he could stick a carrot to the snowman's head

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @rssmary @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @r0b-in

[motownfiction]

driving down south

One strange Saturday morning in the middle of 2003, Steph wakes up with a thought.

I’m gonna drive down to Cleveland.

She doesn’t know why the thought occurs. She doesn’t know what’s to be had in Cleveland, especially not for her. All her life, she’s never liked Ohio. She doesn’t even really like Monroe (the halfway point), except for that restaurant where you can eat in old cars somebody turned into booths. But she’s jonesing for Cleveland. So she gets in the car, fills up her tank, and starts driving down south.

As she drives, she looks for hidden messages on the radio, where she thinks God likes to hide. Not much to find. A lot of songs she thinks she’s too old to like. It’s a damn cold night and I am beautiful no matter what they say. Nothing Steph can really sink into. She looks at the passenger seat and finds a travel case of various CDs. When she comes to a red light after hopping off the highway, she slides in the first disc she can find. A mix from Sam when she ran into him at the turn of the millennium. Songs that always reminded him of her.

She flips past “I Will Dare” and “Up the Junction” and finds herself on the third song. It makes her burst out laughing. What an absurd choice. What a Sam-like choice.

Stonehenge! Where the demons dwell / Where the banshees live, and they do live well!

Steph is still laughing. She remembers asking Sam about why he put “Stonehenge,” the song from This Is Spinal Tap where the band performs in front of a miniature replica on account of writing down the wrong dimensions, on a mixed CD all about her. When she remembers what he said, she wants to cry.

You Stonehenge song lyrics, he said. I guess I never want to forget that.

She feels a few tears sting the back of her eyeballs as she drives deeper and deeper south. He never wanted to forget that. Now, Steph knows he never did.

She thinks about watching This Is Spinal Tap in Sam’s basement back in high school. It was one of his favorite movies. Made him laugh and made him dance, two of his favorite things in the world. Steph liked it, too – not just because Sam liked it, but because it was horrifically quotable. There’s no sex and drugs for Ian, she’d say every time she had too much homework and couldn’t come out that night. Sam would call all of his sandwiches shit sandwich. They always had such a time. Sometimes, when they were feeling especially silly, they’d roll down the windows in Mr. Doyle’s truck and shout, “‘ELLO, CLEVELAND!” for anyone and everyone to hear. And that’s when it hits her. Smacks her right across the face, like it’s mad at her for not seeing it before.

Minutes later, she’s pulling up to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Sam never liked the Rock Hall. He said it made all the wrong choices; said it was a damn shame they never even thought about inducting the MC5. But it’s a damn shame he’ll never be able to go there again. It’s a damn shame he’ll never see the day MC5 gets inducted – if they ever do. He didn’t seem hopeful. But it’s the only place Steph knows how to be. It’s the only place that feels right. The only one that satisfies that nagging feeling from this morning.

She walks through the museum and stops upon the handwritten lyrics to “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” Joy Division. Something about it just calls to her. Stops her. Makes her whole body heavy and all of her limbs vibrate. She always liked the song, but there’s something about it. Maybe it’s that when she’s looking at the lyrics, she can’t get any of them wrong. The thought makes her laugh out loud, just a little, right there in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.

Steph gets closer to the display case and whispers.

You’d have loved this.

(part of @nosebleedclub november challenge -- day iii!)

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Nomads Mission

Summary- 3.1k Nomad Steve Rogers x Reader featuring Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson and Red Wing. You might all be wanted by the Government and considered enemies of the state, but that isn’t going to stop you all from doing what has to be done. That includes collecting and destroying any information Hydra might have on the other Avengers. You are all aware of the risks each mission you run has. Warnings- violence. Divider made by @firefly-graphics​ Written for @what-is-your-plan-today​ Captain America: The First Avengers 10th Anniversary Challenge. Picture Prompt used in mood board, Quote Prompt is in Bold. Song lyrics are Vaughan Monroe Red Roses For A Blue Lady and Ev’ryday I Love You (Just A Little Bit More) 

A/N- This is also for your birthday! Happy Birthday and Love you so much. Thank you a thousand times for everything, all the chats, movie dates, getting me up at 3 am to watch The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, dealing with my moments of uncertainty in myself, sharing pictures of the best boys ever, the little terror Thor and big beautiful girl Del. There is so much more, but you get the picture. I hope you have the best day ever with your very own Steve. Much love always babes. 

Chris Evans Characters Masterlist

You and Natasha were ducked behind a wall, waiting patiently for Steve to engage the hostiles. Normally neither of you would be avoiding the action, well equipped between the two of you for hand to hand combat as well as various devices hidden on your persons thanks to Stark. But that wasn't why you two were here. 

Get ready to go. 

Steve's voice echoed in your ear, neither of you answering. It was too risky to confirm with the Nomad. He had to trust you and Natasha just as you both trusted him. 

It wasn't hard to do, so far Steve has never let you down, on and off the field. 

You and Natasha exchanged a look when there was a loud crash, the agents sitting at their computers looking up in shock and arming themselves, most of them streaming out of the room. 

Just a few left, supposed to guard the intel, they would be easy for the two of you. Both you and Natasha broke cover. The second you did, skidding across the floor while kicking out your leg in a well placed aim, the closest one's chair flipped from your foot hooking around it, sending the rather large looking hostile falling backwards unaware. You used the heel of your boot to crash against his windpipe to leave him gasping out clutching at his neck with bulging eyes when you crashed your heel against him again, this time effectively knocking him out. 

Natasha was engaged with the other two when she flicked one of her spider bytes at one and focused on the other when he went crashing down stunned. Knowing she was able to handle the situation, you focused on the computer system, working on crashing into it to pull the intel. 

All the records of previous hits, the wealthy around the world they were dealing with through cash payments or black mail, the next targets on their lists, bank accounts that were laundering funds, anything they might have on the Avengers teams. Sure you, Steve, Sam and Natasha might not be a part of the team anymore, but family was still family, regardless of what happened. The biggest part of the intel you were hoping for, which would be hidden, the locations of experimental facilities trying to make more enhanced people, and you were that close, your fingertips itching as they flew over the keyboard, eyes scanning as you started to take down their security firewalls. “Come on… come on... “  

All those innocent people who had no idea what they were signing up for. Promises made to fix their problems if they let the organization give them experimental treatments. It rarely ended with them surviving. Those that did became tools. So far from what you have seen in the files and person, it was nauseating. You just had to get that information. Your teeth nipped at your bottom lip with anxious energy as you continued. Your gaze once in a while fell to the man crumpled at your feet to make sure he was still unconscious before going back to your screen. 

“You close Y/N?” You heard Natasha across the room, keeping watch at the main entrance to make sure you weren't interrupted. 

“I'm close Nat, another five minutes.” 

You don't have another five minutes Y/N. Sam hollered in the comms, the background noise muffling part of his voice. 

“Four and a half Sam, I know you can give me that.” You muttered when you heard Steve pipe up. 

It's time to go, NOW. Pull back. 

Natasha poked her head around the corner to see a group coming back, racing down the hallway. “He's not wrong Y/N, pull the memory card and let’s go. We will work with what you got.” 

“I'M ALMOST THERE!” You cried out as the loading bar was almost there. “Sam, use Red Wing to scan outside the building? They are in the hallway.” 

Got you Y/N. 

You pulled out your gun, rushing to Natasha who was now crouched, letting off her own shots while trying to duck out of the way from ricochet bullets. 

I told you to get out. Steve snapped in the comms and you took aim, firing back before answering. 

“Steve, it's almost finished. Another 30 seconds and we will pull out.” 

There was a crackle of a curse, you knew Steve was frustrated, but he would have to be frustrated with you later. Just as you ducked out of the way, pings started bouncing off the hallway walls, sharp bullets crashing precisely through cement walls with precision, each person in the hallway slammed from the impact of Red Wings bullets, splattering red against the wall and crumbling. 

“Thanks Sam.” You scramble back to the computer just as it flashed ‘LOADED’ and yanked the chip, slipping it in your suit as Natasha headed out the door, you right behind her. “Left or right?”  

I'm at the west end. Steve informed the two of you which caused you two to turn right in a bolt. Redwing followed along past the windows to cover the two of you. 

Sam piped up in the comms. Why are you thanking me? Thank Redwing. 

“Im not fucking thanking that thing.” Natasha huffed out as she paused at a corner and peaked around it. “I don't trust it.” 

You are gonna hurt his feelings you know. 

She signaled just one and back to back you both stepped out, you guarding her while she picked off the lone agent. “That's why I don't trust him. The last robot that had feelings went crazy.” 

“Thanks Redwing” You muttered to kill the conversation. “Now can we get out of here, please?” Your eyes roving into all the doorways as you passed when Steve yanked open the door at the end of the hallway, waving you two forward. “This end’s clear, let's get out of here.” 

You grinned at him in relief at seeing his shaggy hair falling in his face, a slight cut above his cheek, but nothing more. It was a success, something your little rag tag team needed and he matched your grin. “Get it all.” 

“Every last bit, I think we finally got it.” You loosen your stance the closer you and Natasha get to him. Feeling at ease and your guard dropped seeing Steve. Big mistake. Suddenly Sam yelled in the comm. Y/N on your left! 

You felt hands on your upper arm and gave a yank, pulling you into the room while the steel door slammed. 

“NO!” Steve screamed out and sprinted forward, Natasha already checking the door. The two of them started trying to stronghold it open, Steve grabbing the handle and straining, making the steel groan in protest. 

You weren't even given a chance to see who had grabbed you as you dropped your weight, hoping it would throw him off balance and tumble forward. Instead it rewarded you with a bash of your head into the door, making you see stars while you cursed out at the shock. Dazed you tried pushing away from the force behind you that grabbed the back of your neck to bash your face in once more when you kicked out behind you blindly, hoping for anything that would release that hold on your. 

A grunt and forceful shove of your body sent you bouncing off the steel and you had the sense of mind to roll away while your assailant doubled over. A smirk formed on your face as you slipped your fingers into your suit, drawing out a switchblade you flicked open. You had managed to get the money shot, the kick hitting him right in his groin. 

His head lifted, tears streaming down his face, but murder glaring in his eyes. “You will pay for that Little Girl, your Captain America won’t get in here in time to save his little prize.” 

You shifted to the balls of your feet, swinging the blade in your hand for optimum use. “He has nothing to worry about.” 

His head cocked over at the vibrating steel door that kept rattling in its frame. “Doesn’t look it to me.” 

“Maybe he is trying to get in here to save you from getting your ass kicked by a woman.” His focus on your hand with the knife kept him from noticing you pulling out one of the spider bytes from your belt and flicking it at him, the blue sparks sizzled up his arm making him seize for a second in surprise and you lunged at him, slashing towards his unprotected neck with the switchblade. 

He managed to pull away at just the right second, getting a good gash on his jaw instead. His anger propelled him forward, the two of you colliding together. His blows hurt with the force behind them, but you were agile with ducks and sways, using the blade to nick him in various areas whenever you were in arms length, switching to kicks, purposely aiming at his weak points. “You little bitch!” he grabbed at your hair, wrenching at your head to push you around. You spun in the action ignoring the searing pain to land your heel into his shin, hearing the distinct crack that sent both of you to the floor. His next scream was one of pain. 

“The Nomad’s little bitch.” you hissed while whipping the man to his back, plunging the blade into his neck, and spurting blood all over you in the move when you yanked it out, his struggles were panicked and quickly grew weak as his life was racing out in red spurts and gurgles. “Get it right.” you hissed out at him. 

Steve was losing patience in the few moments him and Natasha were trying to pull the door open. Sam kept monitoring their escape route for any hostiles. “Move Nat.” Steve instructed and wrapped his hands around the handle. Natasha stepped aside while Steve's foot lifted and planted on the wall next to the door. 

He pulled back with everything in him. His muscles straining under his suit, and his head falling back as he strained, his body vibrating in power as he groaned in exertion. The door started to groan louder, bolts starting to pop around the door. 

“Its almost there Steve!” Natasha encouraged and he gave a yell from exertion, wrenching the door to swing open freely, the bolts popping and the locking mechanism from the other side completely crushed out of shape. Natasha sprang inside, Steve crowding behind her to see you wiping the blade on the agent's shirt, then lifting your sleeve to swipe at the blood on your face. 

Steve brushed past Natasha, holding out his hand to help you to your feet and grasping at your face to have you look at him. “Damn it, are you okay.” His eyes worriedly search for any injuries and you grasp at his wrists to ease his hole. 

“I’m okay Steve… it's okay.” You assured him while bringing his hands down, giving a reassuring smile. “Promise, I shouldn't have let my guard down.” 

“He caught us both by surprise.” Natasha pipped up while checking the body to see if he had anything that would further there intel gathering mission. But nothing was to be found, so she pushed back to a stand and pressed her finger to her comm in her ear. “Back en route Sam, we're heading home.” 

‘Bout time, still clear. Let’s get out of here. 

The trio made their way from the room and bolted out the west end door, mission complete. 

The water pressure was wavering in and out just as you were rinsing the soap off your body, the heat fluctuating too, but you didn't care that the rundown shower was starting to give out. It felt good on your slightly battered body and you were grateful to have it to come back to. As far as hideouts, this one was one of the better ones Steve had managed to secure for the group. Small efficiency apartments in a long forgotten apartment building. The owners were an older retired couple in Florida most of the year, giving them the privacy that a hideout required. 

You hummed to yourself as you ran a towel through your hair and slipped into shorts and one of Steve’s shirts, picking at the necks hem to your nose, inhaling slightly. It reminded you of your old home you two shared before all this happened. 

The old Brooklyn Brownstone apartment felt like a lifetime ago now and as much as you missed it, you wouldn’t change where you were now with everything that happened. Hanging your towel up, you flicked off the light as you left and paused in the doorway to glance in the efficiencies space. A bed barely big enough for the two of you made up one corner with an old tv that you nor Steve once turned on since using this place. Across the room was a small kitchenette where you could see Steve at now, the slight sway of his shoulder muscles pressing through the fabric of his shirt showed him stirring. A drop to your sight showed two soup cans, the simple quick dinner for both of you. You smiled to yourself feeling affection blossom in your chest at the sight. Maybe neither of you were home in that Brownstone. But that's not what made it home. 

It was Steve, it had always been Steve since you knew you loved him.

You made your way into the room and paused at one of the features of this apartment you did love in this old building. An old record player was sitting in the dusty corner when you two first arrived, along with a handful of records. This time you shifted through them, pulling out a Vaughan Monroe’s greatest hits. Easing the record into the cradle, you flicked it on to spin. You noticed Steve tilt his head to listen as you eased the spindle down in the spinning record. 

The cackle smoothed out to the smoothness of a slow tune.

I want some red roses for a blue lady,

Mister florist take my order please...

Steve twisted the stoves nob down low with a final stir of the soup before turning towards you. His hand held out for you while you slipped yours into it and drew you closer to him. One of his hands moving to the dip in your waist. 

We had a silly quarrel the other day, 

I hope these pretty flowers chase the blues away…

You hummed along as you leaned into Steve, pressing your face into his chest as the two of you shuffled over ages old linoleum that was peeling in places, in front of newspaper covered windows that was maybe to keep out the cold as well as maintain the security of this hideout. 

I want some red roses for a blue lady, 

Send them to the sweetest gal in town, 

And if they do the trick, I will hurry back to pick, 

Your best white orchid for her wedding gown… 

“Mmhh, thank you for cooking us something Steve.” You muttered against the center of his chest, tilting your head up to look at him. His beard was getting shaggier now, but it did nothing to hide the angles of his jaw as hard as it tried, nor his lips that fell to press against your forehead in a gentleness that not many got to see from him. One of your arms circled around his neck to hold on as Steve led you away from the stove towards the center of the room, the single light above them casting shadows around the two of you. 

Here it was just the two of you, following the gentle tones of Vaughan Monroe as he sang about picking his best girl flowers. This was home, right here together. 

“Thank you for insisting on getting that intel. Sam stopped in while you were in the shower. Natasha is shifting through it all now. There's a lot, more than any of us expected.” His fingers flexed through his shirt, sliding from grasping your hip to the small of your back, pressing you in close while gentle sways took over both of your bodies. 

We had a silly quarrel the other day,

I hope these pretty flowers chase her blues away…

“Anytime, I don't mind defying your commands and doing what I want anyways.” You teased, drawing him into a genuine laugh as he shook his head, dropping a signature reprimanding glare at you. One you wouldn’t take seriously this time. 

“Why does that not surprise me.” He scoffed as you tangled your fingers in the longer strands at the nape of his neck, pressing down so you could arch to your tiptoes to press your lips against his own, letting the two of you get caught up in the moment together. 

“Cause you know me so well Rogers?” Once you two parted you inquired. “That soup is heated through Handsome.” 

“Damn straight I do Sweetheart. It can wait, it's not often I get to slow dance with my best gal.” Steve countered and you arched a brow up at him as you two danced back towards the stove, you reached to flick off the stove with a smile before the two of you moved back through the small space of the room. 

“You are not even the least bit tired?” 

A bit of a secret smirk played the corner of his mouth, lifting it as his eyes roved over your shoulder, studying something before going back to you. 

“I can do this all day, Sweetheart.” Steve whispered to you and moved his hands to grasp your hips gently, giving a slight toss so you landed on the squeaky mattress with a yelp of surprise while he followed you over the bed, hands planting by your head as he nipped at your chin and along your jawline, your hands moving to tangle in his hair while you giggled at the sensations of his affection. 

“Oh you plan on showing me Nomad?” 

He pressed a smile against your neck, muttering. “All night too if that's what it takes.” 

The gentle song turned upbeat to an upbeat one, filling the room with the lyrics as you wrapped your hand into Steve’s shirt and pulled him down closer to press you into the mattress as you sought his mouth, whimpering into the kiss you two heatedly shared. 

Ev’ryday I love you just a little bit more, 

Just a little bit more, just a little bit more’

Ev’ryday I want you just a little bit more,

Then I did the day before… 

Tags- @jtargaryen18​ @what-is-your-plan-today​ @stardancerluv​ @patzammit​ @princess-evans-addict​ @fckdeusername​ @onetwo3000​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @navybrat817​ @nekoannie-chan​ @angrythingstarlight​ @ransoms-sweater-holes @donutloverxo​ @natasha-romanova-anon​ @jennmurawski13​ @that-damn-girl @rainbowkisses31​ @pandaxnienke​ @verdandi-storm​ @gotnofucks​ @kelbabyblue​ @sagechanoafterdark​ @archy3001​ @aliceaddellheidde​ @princesssterek​ @goldenfightergir​ @autumnrose40​ @flannellover67​ @itsmycorneroftheinternet​ @bluemusickid​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @thatweirdwalangpake​ @sweetllamaparadise​ @badbleep88​ @viinchester​ @babiiface95​

[socialanxiety-queen]

My thoughts about the Hotel Del Coronado video:

Warning: Spoilers ahead and Amanda criticism I don’t like her, her vibe is off big shocker there

My thoughts below 👇 it’s so long I’m sorry

• Amanda’s serial killer smile 😃 I kept focusing on that. She’s pretty a d all that but that smile…killer music plays

• Sam: “We have two very special guests”

Me: “Not Amanda?”

Colby: “But their names are in the title”

Me: god dangit

• WHATS UP GUYS ITS SAM AND COLBY!

• Solby talking in unison

• Colby’s hands

• That husband and dad who treated that woman like that, I hope you’re uncomfortable in the afterlife. Who doesn’t claim their own child and says to just bury them on a hill?

• Shoutout to Bobby

• I feel like Sam and Colby over react to Amanda’s stories, or maybe it was just me saying in my head

• Amanda: “Oh my god what was that? 😯” Sis you’re the medium why are you acting shocked at every turn now?? Her first two videos with them she was like “I see you” to every noise, and now she’s just..

Amanda. Whose only true gifts are over talking others, shouting “I was just about to say that!” And giving that chilling ‘I’m under your bed’ smile.

• I did it! Sam’s sleeved hand 😩🥺

• Sam’s “I did it!” And Colby’s “Good job man!”

• Wrong room, Old man emerges 👴

• Solby unison again

• Faze: “You guys have said the same thing at the same time like ten times today”

Amanda: “You guys spend to much time together”

Colby: “We sleep together too.”

[Me as the thirsty Solby shipper I am]

• Sam playing with his man titties and Colby saying “YEEEAAAH”

•Faze sitting far away from Amanda is a mood.

• “I didn’t know that!” Sure Amanda.

• Amanda’s only expressions: 😀😬🤥

• “We’re dragging you with us” Colby to Amanda.

• XPLR THIS BITCH

• Flip flop guy

• Queen Marilyn Monroe 👏🏻🥰

• Sam hitting his face on the wall, I felt that shit…Into the side of an open door when I was a kid

• I really think the woman was murdered, back then someone could commit even the most bloody crime and not get caught. Just the way they found her body screams foul play.

• That worker made things deep, I’d love to hear more from him. Just thinking about the fact our souls leave but our consciousness doesn’t, really stuck with me..that’s honestly something I never thought about before. Would explain why were so stuck in a time and place while everyone is moving in around us as we just haunt said place.

•Sam’s handwriting is cute as hell

• “I don’t have to use that because I already talk to spirits” even though for half the videos after her first two she hasn’t even spoken to a single spirit on camera. “ so I’m going to write it down so I don’t say anything out loud, but literally I wrote down the exact same thing as the spirit box was saying too” She brags a lot which makes it hard to believe her.

• Amanda showing she wrote ‘here’ 😱 I was not expecting that from her at all. Sarcasm

• Colby shaking Sam, pulling the headphones off Sam’s head and gripping his shoulder over hearing a noise was just…🤣🥺

• Kate Morgan I sincerely hope she can Rest In Peace someday. Not caring if she was a “bad person” with the con artist stuff, there are far worse people then that. And it’s messed up her murder is labeled a suicide, just doesn’t sit right with me.

• Trailer showing a group of people you can vibe with and no Amanda 😌 there will be Kat and Stas 👏🏻❤️

Note: If my opinions upset you just scroll past, it would be a lot better for the both of us if you did. I’m not looking for a fight, this is my blog where I share my thoughts. 💋

[hepalienstuckyrecs]

Stucky AU Fic Rec

Guiding Star by fmo @fmowrites [G, 3.1k]

Soulmates AU

Through all the chaos and coincidence of your life, a symbol will reappear: a recurring shape, or idea, or image that turns up again and again, just for you. Only you can figure out what it is; sometimes that's easy, and sometimes it's hard.

This symbol is called your Clue. And once you know what it is, it will help you know your soulmate--because your soulmate's Clue will be the same as yours.

Steve Rogers figures out his Clue pretty early on.

Moosebumps by @rohkeutta [T, 4.2k]

Modern AU, Meet Cute, Fluff, Humor

Steve feels like he’s in some wild fever dream as he walks closer and says, “Hey, you all right?”

107 looks up. He looks even prettier up close, even (or especially, Steve’s mind supplies unhelpfully) with his cheeks flushed with the exercise and sweat beading on his forehead. He does look a little crazy, though.

“Huh,” 107 says, looks down Steve’s body, then up again. “I know we just met, but your dick looks like it’s getting strangled.”

The Good, The Buns, and The Dirty by @leveragehunters [T, 5.1k]

Modern AU, Humor, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Post-serum Steve

Bucky knew the apartment wasn't much to look at but, however old and rundown it might be, it was his.

His apartment. His place. His.

Unfortunately that also made the neighbour his neighbour. Bucky hadn't started out thinking that way. No, he'd originally been pretty happy about tall, blond, and built, with his sunshine smile and sparkling blue eyes, who lived down the hall. But that was before Bucky found out he was a creeper.

(AKA homonyms are important and you can never have too many double single entendres.)

more under the cut

Hotel Service by Odsbodkins [E, 5.5k]

Modern AU

"The one where Bucky is one of the reception staff in an upmarket hotel and Steve's a wealthy businessman who stays there regularly. They're involved in a heavy flirtation but neither of them have quite gotten up the courage yet to take the next step."

For the Steve/Bucky prompt fest.

Tinder Is the Night by @rohkeutta [E, 6.8k]

Modern AU, Online Dating, Humor, Post-serum Steve, Sexting, Pre-serum Bucky

It’s the quality that gets him first. The profile photo looks like it's been taken with a semi-professional camera: it's sharp and remarkably unposed compared to most people on Tinder. The guy in the photo is the size of a fucking fridge but with Marilyn Monroe’s waistline, accentuated by the way he’s standing half-twisted towards the camera.

He’s also in the process of getting arrested.

Steve, 28, it says under the photo. New York City. Some say I have an arresting personality. This photo is from my good side. The other has a shiner.

Glad to love you, Steve Rogers series by @maddiewritesstucky [E, 9.2k]

Modern AU, Stripper Bucky, Tattoos and Piercings

Steve’s first thought is that he knows this song.

His second thought is little more than a stream of expletives, as the male embodiment of Fuck Me walks out onto the stage. Although, ‘walk’ seems an entirely inappropriate word…the man struts, stalks, and all at once the frenzied reaction of the crowd makes perfect sense.

If Steve had known this was about to make an entrance, he’d have been screaming for it too.

_____

In which Steve Rogers is promised a night of highly-skilled dance performance, and gets exactly that...just not in the way he expected.

Welcome to Oblivious, Population: Two by @leveragehunters [T, 11.3k]

Modern AU, Fluff, Oblivious, Pre-serum Steve, Post-serum Bucky, Humor

Steve is a wedding photographer in need of an assistant. Bucky is unemployed and in need of a job. Sam and Natasha, in what turns out to be a successful attempt to solve both problems, arrange an introduction.

In a moment of frustrated brilliance, Bucky sets Steve on the path to incredible popularity and the two of them--and their relationship--on the path to complete obliviousness.

deep dive by @deisderium [E, 16.1k]

Modern AU, Kid Fic, Misunderstandings, Single Dad Bucky, Post-serum Steve

Bucky knew it would be hot, so he brought a bottle of water, but the sip he takes from it does absolutely nothing to quench his thirst, because the dive team coach is a fucking mountain of muscle barely contained by a pair of floral board shorts and a white tank with low-enough armholes that Bucky can see the muscles densely packed around his ribs. His arms, it must be said, are fucking huge, and Bucky can see the bronze hairs on his forearm glinting in the sunlight even from across the pool.

*

In which single dad Bucky Barnes has a crush on his daughter's dive team coach and thirsts awkwardly. That's it, that's the fic.

Roots Have Grown by AustinB [M, 17.3k]

Modern AU, Roommates AU, Sugar Daddy, Fluff, Mild Angst, Pre-serum Steve, Veteran Bucky, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Meet Cute, Pining, Beefy Bucky

Bucky is a mildly agoraphobic veteran with funds to spare, who becomes enamored with the cute blonde guy in his building.

So when Steve mentions needing a roommate to cut down on rent costs, Bucky decides it would be a good idea to volunteer.

this is not a drive by by plutos [NR (I’d say Mature, but only slightly), 24.5k]

Modern AU, Kid Fic, Slow Build, Single Dad Bucky, Veteran Bucky

"God, he can’t stop smiling, and it must be infectious because a slow grin is stretching across Steve’s face, and now he’s the one looking at Bucky from up under his eyelashes and asking, “How have we not met before?”

And, really, that’s the question isn’t it."

Otherwise known as: The Bucky Barnes Hot Dad AU or The One Where Steve Crashes All Of Bucky's Dates Without Really Trying

[Now with an amazing podfic!]

a long way from the playground by tesselated [E, 27.4k]

Modern AU, Fake Relationship, Pre-serum Steve, Jewish Bucky

“Actually, I am dating someone.” He says.

What ends up happening is, he says the first name that comes to mind.

What ends up happening is, he blurts out, “Steve Rogers.”

Without thinking, obviously. Because if he had been thinking, he would have thought of something better than this.

And that's how Bucky ends up bringing Steve as a date to his sister's wedding.

it takes a lot to know a man by @steebadore, art by @kittyandmulder [E, 39k]

Modern AU, Pre-serum Steve, Veteran Bucky

Bucky flips to the next page, and the world around him grinds to a halt as his brain struggles to process what he's seeing. The noise of the train fades and static fills the inside of his head as he looks down at the sketches of the metal-armed guy without the mask. It's—that's him. It's Bucky's own goddamn face staring back at him from this stranger's sketchbook.

"What the fuck."

(Or, as I like to refer to it: two absolute disasters figure out how to use their words and touch mouth parts.)

Written for the 2019 Captain America Reverse Big Bang

Casual Encounters by @morethanslightly [E, 66.6k]

Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Humor, Friends With Benefits, Pre-serum Steve

“You have never once been careful in your entire life.” Bucky huffs out a laugh. He looks away. “Maybe I’m offended you didn’t think to ask me.” He says it like a joke, but he can’t bring himself to laugh again.

“Bucky,” Steve says, scandalized. “You’re my friend. I’m not gonna use you to experiment sexually.”

[stuckonjbbarnes]

At Least, Not Alone {2/?}

Pairing: Pietro x OC {Sawyer} Word Count: 1.2K with SM posts A/N: And...here. we. go.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After having Scott drop off dinner and moping around her studio for the rest of the night, Sawyer decides to pull herself together. At least a little bit. It helped having Jazzy’s book release to keep her busy.

“Did you burn anything down?”

“SO funny, Bucky.” She grumbles into her phone.

“Hey...last time you spiraled no one could get a hold of you. I don’t need you coming home with another potential boyfriend and 3rd degree burns.”

“Do you really think I could find another guy, like that?”

“SAWYER-

“I’m kidding.” She smiles and Bucky glares from his living room, “don’t you have a run to go on, why are you FaceTiming me?”

“Sam is running late. Apparently Monroe summoned a demon again.”

“Well did she send it back?! She’s coming over and my apartment isn’t demon-proofed.”

“Can you demon-proof a house?”

“Well it’s different from baby-proofing...but like salt lines at the doors right?”

“I’m pretty sure she sent it back.” Bucky mutters and Sasha waves over his shoulder, “I’m only like 70% sure...so have fun with that.”

“BUCKY-

Sawyer glares at her phone as the call ends, just in time for a FaceTime call from Jazzy to ping through on her computer. Tossing her phone onto the bed, she answers the call and nearly jumps as Monroe appears from her fire escape.

“You should really lock that.” Jazzy mutters from the computer.

“And I’m the reckless one. Also, I invited Tali over.” Monroe offers, deflecting the notebook that Sawyer chucks at her.

“Let’s get to work.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’ll be here,” Monroe offers, turning on the TV, “do you have Netflix on this thing?”

“If you want me to, I’ll talk to him.” Monroe stretches out on Sawyer's bed much like a cat in sunlight.

“About what? We’re not in a relationship. He’s allowed to stop talking to me.” She mumbles from her desk, clicking through proofs for Jazzy’s book.

“Not for no reason!” She insists and Tali makes a noise of agreement from her spot on the fire escape.

“This is why you DTR.” Jazzy’s voice chirps from the computer screen.

“What’s DTR?” Tali asks, flipping the page of an old magazine.

“What you need to do with Loki.” Sawyer grumbles.

“DEFINE THE RELATIONSHIP.” Jazzy yells at the girls.

“Stop yelling!”

“WHAT?! THE SUBWAY IS LOUD.”

“Yes! Define your relationship. Make my idiot brother see how much you like him!” Monroe shoots up, tapping on her phone. “Let me get Sasha in on this.”

“Sasha is the last person I’d ask for help in the relationship department...she forgot who she was in love with.”

“HEY! Rude.” Sasha’s voice fills the room and Daisy’s laugh is heard in the background.

“She’s right. What are we talking about though?” Daisy asks and the room fills with all the girls talking over each other, “not helpful guys.”

“She needs to DTR.” Jazzy tries again.

“Oh we’re back on the Pietro front.” Sasha clarifies.

“Guys...this is not any of your concerns.”

“But we’re concerned.” Monroe offers.

“Okay listen up. Because all of you...well half of you are in finicky relationships.”

“A third… Scott and I are fine. It’s them.” Jazzy’s voice emphasizes the looks that Tali and Sawyer give each other.

“You and Scott are a different story...I think 2 dates is a little crazy to move in with someone.” Daisy murmurs.

“Oh BULL. You moved in with Steve after a night at a Buffalo Wild Wings.”

“WAIT WHAT?!” Sawyer yells springing over to her bed. “You didn’t even go on a date before moving in?!”

“It wasn’t like that...we were friends.” Daisy’s voice lowers and the buzzer rings. “Let us in.”

Sawyer leaves the bed to buzz up the girls and is surprised when not only Daisy, juggling trays of coffee, and Sasha appear but Jazzy follows them inside. Looking around the small studio, she realizes she’d need a bigger place if the girls were all gonna keep popping up like this.

“Okay. So here’s what you do.” Daisy finds a spot on the sofa angled in the corner, balancing her coffee cup on her knee, “you find out what his love language is and exploit the hell out of it.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.” Jazzy laughs.

“No...she’s onto something.” Sawyer cuts in, “why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you got broken up with after 5 years of bliss, befriended your ex’s fiancé, lit an entire apartment complex on fire and stopped being the city’s love expert?” Tali offers.

“Thanks for the rundown Tal...super helpful.”

“She’s not wrong. But maybe...work on the delivery?” Sasha asks and Tali shrugs, looking at yet another old magazine.

“I’ll text him...we’re supposed to go to a library anyways” Sawyer continues scrolling through the love languages on her computer. “... ��words of affirmation’ sounds like a good place to start.”

Pulling her scarf loose, Sawyer steps into the apartment foyer, waving at the doorman who always has a smile on his face...except for today. She’d consider that a sign, if she believed in that sort of thing. Inside the elevator, she runs through a mental list of some of the books she wanted to look for. It isn’t long before the doors open and she’s opening the door to Pietro’s place. Letting the door shut softly behind her, Sawyer takes in the familiar sights as the melody of an All Time Low song pours out of the guestroom.

It’d only been a couple days away but she felt most at home here. It wasn’t clean like she’d left it but it rarely stayed that clean. Pietro was known for leaving his clothes all over the apartment; wherever he decided to strip down honestly.

“P?” Sawyer calls, dropping her bag and jacket by the door after getting no response.

“Pietro?” She asks, pushing open the office door slightly.

Pietro’s back is to Sawyer as she walks into the room. My Chemical Romance replaces All Time Low and she moves closer to see exactly why he’s ignoring her. In his own world, Pietro continues painting on a canvas in slashing motions. The picture is a jumble of red, black and gray; something abstract.

“That’s really good.” Sawyer finally speaks and Pietro visibly tenses, whipping his head to her.

“What are you doing here?! Get out.” He simmers, setting down the brush and guiding her out of the room, “...please.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude. We had plans to go to the library today.” Sawyer mumbles, glancing back over his shoulder at the painting before he shuts the door.

“I...you weren’t supposed to see that. Just forget you saw it, okay?” Pietro runs a hand through his hair, leaving streaks of black amongst his silver locks. “I can’t go today. It’s not a good time.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe next week.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can go on my own.” Sawyer mutters, walking past him to the door to collect her things, “Just text me when you want to hang out, I guess.”

“Sawyer…”

“It’s fine...really.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Permanent Taglist: @valkyriesryde @buckysmischief @murdermornings @donnaintx @kitkatd7 @merigoldcaroline @thosekidswhohuntmonsters @firefly-in-darkness @buckys-other-punk​ @what-just-happened-bro @romaniansweetheart  @smilexcaptainx @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @cherrys-recommendations

[youresog0lden]

Josslyn (pt 3) II Spencer Reid

Read part one and two here

WC: 2.4k

A/N: some requested this but this will be the last part! 

Warning: cursing, and normal criminal minds things

 GIF IS NOT MINE !!!

masterlist

By the time you’re reading this it will be my birthday so I decide to write this part and it makes me incredibly happy !!

"Sometimes good thing's fall apart so better things can come in." Marilyn Monroe

Everything happens for a reason. I call everytime I get drunk but obviously you know that. I get drunk to get you off my mind but, it doesn't work. It never works, it does the complete opposite. I think of you, your smile, the way you like your coffee with this weird creamer. The way you only wear a tight long sleeve shirt tight black pants and your clunky docs. You smile every morning even if you're having a bad day. Even though the room is full of profilers. You still act happy. But the alcohol still doesn't make me forget.  I know you get my texts. I need to stop putting you threw this. I should've stopped two years ago. It's been two years. I have had to see you walk into the bullpen like you we're to happiest women on the planet. So, that's why I stopped I love seeing you happy. It almost makes me happy. I know I messed up trust me. I know I should be sorry. I really messed up but, everyday I could go up to you and get on my hands and knees and tell you how incredibly sorry I am and how bad I fucked up. I know I fucked up. It hasn't been the same with JJ and I. I can't stop thinking about the look on your face. It hurt me. I don't even know why I did it. We we're just caught up in the moment. She told me she loves me. Y/n she loves me. But I love you. I should have let it happen but ever since it did I can't stop thinking about you. I see you have a boyfriend, he seems like a nice guy the few times we met. He seem's like he could treat you better than I could. The way he looks at you, with such love. Garcia tell me you love him, and you couldn't see you're self with anyone else. While I admit that hurt I can say that it's good to see you happy. I'm happy for you as long as he doesn't hurt you, that's all that matters. I can tell you love him all you see in your eyes is the sparkle when he talks anyway. I'm sorry I haven't been there. I really want to. I want us to be like we used to be, before prison. But now everything isn't the same. I mean what can I expect. I ruined it but, I am going to let you go. I have to meet my mom in an hour and I'm not even ready.

                                        ~ Love Spencer Reid

I stare at the letter now sitting on my desk. What do I do with it now. Sam's going to be home soon and he'll flip if he reads that letter. Without even thinking I slip it into the holder for mail. He never goes in there. Without thinking I take my food to the couch eating it. Ding. I look at my phone seeing the lovely Emily has texted the group telling them we have a case. I quickly put on my jeans and boots grabbing my to-go bag before grabbing my keys locking up. I get in my car and drive down to the BAU. I swipe my key card going to my desk. Everyone was waiting for Emily and Garcia to walk into the bullpen to tell us to meet them in the conference room. My eye almost on instinct look for Dr. Reid seeing him standing there laughing with Tara. I look around before deciding to talk to JJ.

"Do you know what's going on?" I ask. I never had the right to be mad at JJ she didn't know Reid and I we're together. All she did was fuck up her own marriage and lose her best friend I couldn't be mad at her it wasn't my place. She nods her head no before seeing the bubbly blonde walk in with a tablet in her hand shaking it towards the conference room. We all nod following along except me. I set my bag at my desk and look around.

"Y/n." Garcia calls out.

"Yeah I'm coming." I say. I put the letter in my desk and walk into the room.

"Okay. What do we have." I say taking a seat next to Luke.

"Two dead."

"Meet Tom and Lilly Small."

" A husband and wife. They we're found dead in there home in Atlanta Georgia on Wednesday stabbed brutally fifteen times then shot execution style." Emily stated.

"Do they have any kids?" I ask.

"Yes two sons and a daughter." Garcia says.

"Where were they that night." JJ asked.

"Jason the oldest was at his house with his wife and son. They both can prove and so can there security cams. Zach was at a soccer game on his way home when it happened and Angel was upstairs with rope tied around her but nothing about what happened almost like she was drugged."

"Do we know with what drugs?" Reid questioned.

"A date rape drug called-" Garcia takes a second to look at it.

"gamma-butyrolactone or gbl." she says.

"GBL is a hygroscopic colorless, water-miscible liquid with a weak characteristic odor. It is the simplest 4-carbon lactone. It is mainly used as an intermediate in the production of other chemicals, e.g. methyl-2-pyrrolidone." Reid speaks. We all look at him for a brief second his eyes meet mine but, wanting nothing more than to do with him I look away. Who am I lying to. I am still madly in love with him. I shake my head hearing Spencer speak again.

"It effects the pathway to the brain." he finishes. I nod.

"Okay so she was drugged but how?" I asked.

"We don't but we have to get there soon. We are wanting to believe that the unsub will hurt again. Wheels up in 40." Emily said. All of us exit from the room. I walk to the kitchen with my coffee mug in my hand only to meet the one and only Spencer Reid. I don't say anything I just pull out the pot making sure to fill it with the coffee and sugar. Reid starts to look at me with these big eyes that say a lot. I gave him and unwanted smile and walk away drinking my coffee

----

"Ok Y/L/N, Reid go to the precinct and start the geographical map, Rossi and Tara talk to the family find any information you can out, Alvez you with me we're going to the crime site, after we'll go over to the coroners office." Emily finally finished. All of us nodding going our separate ways. Reid and I make our way towards the car heading down to the station.

----

"There's been a new murder." Emily says threw the phone.

"Where." Reid asked picking up this red marker.

"At Peach Tree Center." she says. He put's his hand on it putting a dot right where his finger is laid. Right then the phone ringed again.

"Hello." I sang.

"Hello my beautiful and my boy genius." Garcia called threw.

"Hi my pretty lady." I said

"Hey Garcia." Reid spoke.

"Okay so I just got a call from the one and only Rossi telling me that the daughter told us that her mom had a kid at 15. I guess she got pregnant early and gave her up for adoption. They just recently got in touch." she finished.

"But you'll never get this." she salted.

"What."

"Her adoptive parents we the family just killed." she finished. Reid and I looked at each other

"Where is she now."

"She is on her way down from New Jersey."

"Mark that." I call to Reid.

----

"Do you want some water." I asked coming into the room She sat there.

"So what part of New Jersey are you from?" I asked her. She  silently sat there still not saying anything.

"Ok, fine. It's in you're right of law not to talk. But you forget that I'm the profiler here. I watched you while you sat in here talking to Dr. Reid, I watched your micro-expressions. I watched as you barley blank when he mentioned the death of your mom. Now seeing that  you barley knew her I didn't expect you to be crying whale tears but for you actual family come on now. Not a single tear?" I questioned.

"Some people grieve different."

"Yes. They do but most people cry when a loved one dies. You know studies have been shown that most people who grieve cry but most psychopaths don't show emotion at all because they don't know how to show that emotion some were never raised into the right home some jsut don't know how." I say sitting down cupping my hands together.

"Now my question is why?" I ask.

"Why what?" she coyly.

"Don't play dumb with me." I smile right back.

"Awe is the Agent getting mad." I laugh

"Did you or did you not kill you're biological mom for giving you up and her kids and husband because they knew the truth and then went and killed you're adoptive parents because they kept this from you." I ask for almost a second you could see she broke. She didn't think I noticed.

"How would you know if I did."

"You made it very easy. You left Angel alive. She told us that she remembers a girl walking into her room and tying her up. She felt comfortable with her at first because this girl looked familiar but she couldn't put her finger on it. That's when Jason came forward and told us that you we're in the picture and that you always gave him an off vibe but, that. That right there wasn't enough to put you away. We had no proof. So we did a background search. You're not from New Jersey. You're from Maine. You're adoptive dad was a drunk and you're adoptive mom was not a mom she was trying to be you're best friend. You felt nothing almost as if you turned your emotions off like that." I snapped.

"Fine. I killed them." she screamed. I smirked and got up, walking out the door. The team was standing out there watching the whole thing there mouths a gaped.

"How-What?" Alvez laughed.

"How did you do that." Tara asked.

"You guys forget that this is why I was hired in the first place I am an amazing interrogator and profiler. " I smile at the lovely people infront of me.

"Hold up someone is calling me." I say walking away pulling out my phone.

"Hello this is SSA Y/L/N."

"Y/n." Sam's voice snapped.

"Oh. Hi my lovely." I smile.

"Where the fuck are you." he spat

"Wait are you with him-" he laughs

"Yes I am with him, and the whole team I work with asshat." I sigh.

"I found the letter." he states. I freeze.

"What are you talking about." I questioned dumbly.

"You know exactly what letter quit playing dumb. Are you going to tell him you love him to. Even after he hurt you?" he laughs bitterly

"I don't love him." I say in a hushed voice.

"Sure." he starts

"You know I hate it when you're with him." then he finished.

"Can you stop being so god damn controlling." I yell causing the looks of my team and a few others. Reid snapping his head first.

"Can you stop being such a bitch." he yells just as loud.

"Maybe I wouldn't be such a bitch if you stopped being so controlling."

"Whatever y/n well talk about this when we get home." I could just tell he was rolling his eyes, I decide to hang up the phone. I walk to the group a few of them letting out uncomfortable coughs. I just sigh.

"Sorry about that." I mumble looking down. They just nod all of us walking our own separate ways. I really need to talk to Spencer. I don't say anything I just kinda walk over to where he's grabbing his bag. Sam will get mad he always does but, I need to talk to him about this.

"Spence." I called him by the nickname. He looks over at me with wide eyes. He starts scrambling until I put my hand on his arm stopping him, and as cliche as it sounds but I felt fireworks. You shouldn't feel this way. It's wrong. I take my hand off his arm sliding them into my pockets uncomfortably.

"What's up."

"We need to talk." I say sternly. The blush rises up on him face.

"About what." he asked seeming to 'forget' about the letter he left me. "I can't stop thinking about the look on your face." He sighs before looking at me.

"Y/N I meant everything I said in that letter."

"I know and I just wanted to tell you that I forgive you. That I'm not mad anymore."

"You're not."

"No. It's been two years I can't stand being mad at you anymore it's tiring. I miss my best friend the one that I had before we started fucking around. I miss your stupid little facts in the morning or the nicknames you would give me. I miss walking hand in hand together into the bull pen. I miss staying up super later watching 'Doctor Who.' I miss you being the person who I can come to for anything. God Spence. I miss every part of you and I really fucked up getting into this relationship. I was just trying to move on and I thought I could but I can't I can't move on. I love you." I say.

"What about you're boyfriend." he almost cringes at the word boyfriend.

"I'm trying to leave him." I say softly.

"Why haven't you yet."

"Because like I said I'm trying to get over you."

"I love you any only you." I said softly.

"I love you." he says just as softly.

"God I love you so much." he finished.

"I'll break up with his as soon as I get home." I say softly. He hums in response. I grab the red tie he's wearing pulling my lips onto his. He wraps his arm around his waist and he wraps his around my waist and suddenly I feel at home.

[heli0s-writes]

DEADCRUSH

Summary: Deadcrush, a game played based on the question “what historical figure would I want to take on a date if they were alive today?”

A/N: 4k word count because I can’t be brief about anything. Also mentions age difference, and questionable internet humor. Also now with Part 2! Oh my god and Part 3!

Bag of Tricks One-Shots Masterlist

It’s in the middle of receiving a blow to his jaw when Bucky hears your voice whistle through the air above him.

“No way!” You’re yelling, “That’s sick, Peter!”

He glances up for half a second to see you swinging against the New York backdrop, left hand raised and entombed by a thick knot of webbing from Parker who’s launching you and himself across the skyline. Bucky dodges another fist and by the time he’s knocked out the thug trying to get fresh with him, you’ve already finished your trajectory and bowled over a cluster of bodies. The ground’s cracked where you made your descent in the distance, and Parker lands softly next to you.

“Come on!” He cries, pitch rising, “You picked Rasputin!”

You respond with a maniacal giggle. “He’s Russia’s greatest love machine!” With a flick of your wrist, you condescendingly scoff. “Dude, Anne Frank? She was twelve.”

“Rasputin was like a million! And insane! Anne Frank is close to my age, at least. And this is entirely hypothetical—I'm imagining a future with her where she’s older than me. I think we’d totally get along, I read her diary and everything- I mean, we’re so close! Fine--” Parker crosses his arms.

“Marie Curie.”

Your eyes catch Bucky looking and you give him a wide smile and a small wave before you pivot back to Peter. Bucky’s brow furrows even deeper before he turns and heads towards Steve who’s winding down at the end of his own fight. Kids are fucking weird, he thinks a little bitterly, as you and Parker squabble on in the distance.

-

In the middle of dinner, as he’s twisting a ream of spaghetti onto his fork, you and Parker stand on the balcony eating what looks like a whole baguette smeared with jelly. Through the glass door, Parker crunches into it before handing the baguette off to you. He’s gesturing wildly and brushing crumbs off his suit.

You take a bite too large for your mouth and the crust crumbles down your chin, chased by a dribble of jelly. You level your palm and start measuring Peter’s height much to his indignance, and Bucky has to turn around before he loses his appetite completely. He hears your laughter muffled through the door. Your hand is clasped on Parker’s shoulder in an attempt to hold yourself up.

You’re a funny one. Always joking and cheerful. You’ve been a part of the team for the past six months and you’re closest to Parker both in demeanor and in age, but sometimes Bucky finds you up late at night and the two of you sit at the table over a cup of tea.

You show him inexplicable and strange images from your phone and try your best to explain to him why the frog is on the unicycle and what the hell “yeet” actually means. Once, you showed him a video about twerking but when you jokingly proposed that you might teach him instead, he nearly knocked the table over by jerking up, ready to take off.

It always ends with joyful tears in the corners of your eyes.

It makes him a little bit angry with himself because he really has no right to even be talking to you. Cryrosleep aside, he’s almost old enough to be your father. But when your laughter lights up the room, it burns those harsh thoughts from his brain.

He’d never admit it, but when he’s awake after tossing for hours, he hopes you’re in the kitchen.

The door swings open and in-between mouthfuls, Parker is baffled, “Who is that?”

“Ancient poet.” You answer, popping a finger in your mouth, “My girl! Island of Lesbos. She definitely knew how to...” You waggle your eyebrows, make a V-shape with your fingers, and lewdly run your tongue up and down between them. Bucky thinks he sees you looking at him, but he feels himself flushing at your comment and pretends like he’s enthralled with spaghetti.

“Dude. Stop it.” Peter moans.

-

In the middle of movie night, another showing of Mary Poppins, you and Parker once again tuck away into the corner of the Stark auditorium with a shared blanket and chatter vehemently. Bucky doesn’t know which is more irritating—Van Dyke’s terrible accent, or the fact that the two of you are attached by the hip today.

“Marilyn Monroe!” Parker whispers.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky watches you contemplate your reply before leaning in impossibly close to Peter. The young man’s jaw clenches as his eyes widen like saucers. He shoots Bucky a look, as if catching him eavesdropping.

“What!?” Peter shrieks.

The entire room turns to look at the two of you. You clamp your hand over Peter’s mouth, bury your face into the side of his head.

“That’s the safest one!” You say.

“No! No, it’s definitely not safe!” He responds back, voice cracking slightly and pushing your face away when your hair tickles him. “Gettoffa— God! Are you serious!?”

“Okay, what the hell is this conversation?” Natasha pauses the movie and leans over the back of the recliner.

Peter pulls the cover over his face and you start giggling again.

“We’re talking about our DC’s.” You finally admit, pausing enough to calm yourself.

“DC’s?” Steve questions.

“Dead crushes.” There it is again- that little look you send his way. He thinks three times is at least one too many to be just a dream.

“Dead-what-now?” Sam is incredulous.

“You guys have never played this game before? You know, pick one person from history who you’d take out to dinner if circumstances made it possible.”

Peter pokes his head out, “And look, please tell her that all of my choices are perfectly reasonable! Anne Frank? Marilyn Monroe? Marie Curie? She picked Rasputin! And not because of that weird old song.”

You scoff because Boney M is a fine example of industry-bottled pop music and beat Milli Vanilli as the façade of genuine artistry by miles.

“Rasputin’s a bit dark, isn’t he?” Steve shakes his head.

Sticking your tongue out at him, you land your gaze on Natasha with a sly smirk.

“Who would you pick, sexy international Russian spy? Let’s get a peek into that gorgeous red head of yours.” She licks her lips at your overt flirtation and flips her hair over her shoulder.

Bucky folds his arms over his chest and leans back into the chair he’s on. This was your game—saddling up to people with effortless compliments and humor, reading a personality so well and maneuvering yourself to fit just right into their expectations. Who else could be so forward with Natasha, joking or otherwise? Who else would suggest teaching him how to twerk? Fuck.

Natasha mulls the question over for a second, “Stalin. I’d take him to dinner. And then to his grave.”

There’s an exasperated sound that escapes your lips. “Okay, that’s not really how the game works. This is not supposed to be a political commentary- it's a genuine display of … attraction!”

“To corpses.” Bucky mutters.

“Okay, that’s dark.” You and Peter exhale in unison. The giggles that escape both of you as you start calling “jinx” on each other before wrestling on that tiny fucking sofa chair makes him bite back a growl. From the couch to his left, Steve notices.

-

In the middle of pouring scalding water into a plain white mug, Bucky feels a tap on his shoulder.

“No.” He greets the finger. “Nope. Steve. Goodnight, jerk.”

“You’re actin’ like a kid, Buck.”

Bucky huffs as he sets the kettle back down with a clatter on the stovetop.

“No.” The problem is that I’m not the kid, Bucky scolds himself for even having the thought surface.

Steve half-heartedly sighs because Bucky is so smitten it’s almost painful to watch. It’s obvious to him and the rest of the team that the two of you dance around each other under the pretense of professionalism, but he knows that the laughter coming from down the hallway late at night is more meaningful than a work relationship.

The first time Steve had seen Bucky lean into a friendly touch was when you had placed your hand on his back, steadying yourself as you fixed your shoe. It was such an offhanded gesture, and Bucky tensed briefly before holding out his arm for you. You didn’t realize his intention and took his entire vibranium hand with a firm squeeze before waltzing off, leaving him to gaze after your disappearing trail. That was three weeks into Bucky’s time at the compound, and your fourth month. It opened Steve’s eyes to a possibility he hadn’t yet entertained.

Steve thinks part of how easily you had infiltrated Bucky’s stonewall demeanor is, in fact, your age. You were right on the cusp of balancing maturity and immaturity, often teetering into the immature waters out of habit. You stayed up late for no reason, played video games for hours, ate all sorts of odd meals with no care for your health, and always gladly shared anything that made you smile. It was infectious. You lacked the exact type of self-awareness everyone else had that made them so careful with Buck— and he let you slip through the cracks effortlessly.

It’s your childlike happiness that’s done it for Bucky. Even though it’s now become a point of uneasiness for his friend, Steve is thankful that you’re exactly how old you are. It’s helped him more than harmed him so far.

Bucky takes a sip of his peppermint and lemon tea and leans against the counter. Steve watches with amusement as his shoulders tense when your chortle bounces into the room. You’re telling Peter goodnight as he heads back home to Queens.

“Hey!” You call, “Sunrise tomorrow?”

A faint affirmation is heard before Parker’s whooping whips faintly in the distance, swinging away. The front door closes and you pop into the kitchen wearing nothing but a swimsuit cover-up, full of diamond-shaped holes. A tiny pink bikini peeks out from underneath the pattern. Bucky averts his gaze because the women of his time did not dress like that and he’s not even sure looking in your direction is legal.

“Night swimming?” Steve asks with a smirk at his friend, who turns around to hide the red creeping up his cheeks like vines.

You nod eagerly before opening the pantry and grabbing a box of Oreos from the top shelf. Tucking one into your mouth, you crunch through it and swallow before closing the pantry door and placing the container under your arm. Crumbs fall down your chest and you curse under your breath as you swipe bits of cookie from your top, oblivious to why Steve suddenly finds the ceiling very interesting.

“Hey me and Double-P are gonna watch the sunrise on top of the Chrysler building tomorrow- you two wanna come? He’ll swing you right up! It’s fun! I’m gonna make breakfast!”

They both shake their head and you mutter something about their loss for a free roller coaster and good view. Bucky and Steve follow your path out the door and hear the patter of your feet before you crash into the deep midnight water with a tremendous cannonball. They watch as your head breaks the surface of ripples before you lean back and squirt water from your mouth like a fountain. Music surges from the outdoor speakers— a seductive Latin Pop tune with hints of reggaeton. You float over to the pool’s edge and throw another cookie in your mouth, bopping along to the groove enthusiastically, shoulders winding to the ebb and flow of water.

“C’mon, Buck.” Steve urges, motioning his head to where you float lazily, watching the moon, nodding to synth beats and timbales drumming. “Forget age… she woulda been your kinda girl back in the day.”

Bucky swallows and turns to his steaming mug, “There were no girls like her back in the day.”

-

It’s in the middle of his nightmare when Bucky jerks awake and smells buttered toast and coffee. It’s still dark out, only four-something, but he stumbles to the restroom and brushes his teeth anyway. When he arrives at the kitchen, you’re standing at the stovetop wearing athletic shorts and bunny slippers. There’s a frilly orange apron tied neatly to your waist, covering a shredded crop-top, and you’re flipping a hearty slice of bread with an egg in the center.

“Hey Sarge.” You smile, “Help yourself to an eggy. Yolk’s runny and dippable, just like God intended.”

He shakes his head no because he knows you’re preparing it for Peter, but sits down on a stool anyway, leaning over the counter to watch you with interest. When one piece of toast cooks, you move to crack fresh pepper and sea salt over another. You also slice tomatoes and rinse fresh basil leaves, tunelessly humming the whole time. When you stifle a yawn with your shoulder, Bucky squints at the tell-tale blue bags under your eyes.

“Again?”

You rub your neck with a guilty smile and take a sip of water, “Got stuck on the internet… reading about… I can’t even... I know I started with Kennedy… but the last browser is bee swarming and royal jelly...”

He laughs when you go off on a rant about how bees communicate with each other, even demonstrating for him something you called a “waggle dance”, and he’s not sure if you’re just making shit up or not but it’s cute as hell when you bend your elbows and shuffle in figure eights on the tile.

“So then, me— a bee— would show you— another bee— this dance… and then you would go find the yummy flower! And did you know bees would dance with excitement depending on how convinced they are about the quality of the flower!? They get excited!” You repeat the same figure eight this time accompanied by elbow flapping and happy buzzing. The sound vibrates between your teeth and sizzles over your lips.

Bucky’s laughing so hard he has to put his face in his hand. Finally, you settle down.

“Now your turn.” You tease. He shakes his head defiantly, eyes still brimming with amusement.

You pour him a steaming mug of coffee and slide it next to his hand with a small smile. There’s a strange light in your bleary eyes as you bite your bottom lip.

A flush suddenly sweeps across your cheeks.

“What?” Bucky asks, taking a slow sip, savoring the bitter taste as it rolls down his throat.

“It’s stupid...it’s nothing.” The awkward laugh coming from your throat makes Bucky shuffle in the stool, wary and slightly concerned. Before you can continue, Steve pokes his head in and announces he’s going for a run and asks you to save him some breakfast when he gets back. Bucky checks the time on the microwave. Almost five.

Something dings on the bar counter and you move to grab your phone, frowning and placing your hands on the ruffles against your hip. A disappointed noise sputters from your mouth before you tear off the apron and turn off the stovetop with a quiet fury. “He cancelled!” You cry, disappointment darkening your features. “I made all this crap!”

Bucky looks over the countertop arrangement of perfectly crispy thick multigrain toast, shiny fried eggs, tupperware containers of tomato and shredded basil, and two thermoses of coffee and juice. Your shoulders slump as you place your hands on your hips and lean back to pop your neck and crack your knuckles. You pick up the trash can and kick off its lid, placing the edge of the gaping dark maw against the counter, holding your arm out to sweep the food in. Your generally pleasant features are stained by a scowl.

He forgets how impulsive you can be.

“Wait!” Bucky yells, reaching across the counter. “I’ll go. I’ll watch the sunrise with you.” When you stare at him in surprise, he quickly glances around the countertops, “Let’s not waste all this. You worked really hard on it.”

A squeal escapes as you drop the trash can and clasp your two hands together in a cheer. “Bucky. You are…” you suck in a deep breath and hold your hands over your heart, “just the best. My number one… Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the one-oh-seventh.”

His heart leaps just a tad as his former title rolls off your tongue almost wistfully. Bucky opens his mouth to ask you what you mean but you’re balancing two containers of foil-wrapped toast, another one of tomato slices and the thermoses are hanging precariously on your middle fingers. Bucky leaps from his seat and takes the food from you, leaving the thermoses in your hand.

“To the roof, Sarge!” You smile, leading the way. He follows closely behind and raises his eyebrow curiously when you keep looking back at him every few steps.

It’s in the middle of biting into the most heavenly piece of toast he’s ever had that Bucky hears you giggle shyly. You’re rarely bashful— usually too sharp-tongued and unfiltered is how most people would describe you. It’s why your best friend is Peter Parker: boy genius, mile-a-minute-mouth.

“What is it?” Bucky’s teeth crunch against the crisp brown edge, the bite of egg sliding over his tongue.

You’re leaned back on your palm, brushing a crumb from the corner of your mouth as you chew pensively on a slice of tomato. The sky is a blackened bruise behind you, disappearing into the balm of a soft, glowing orange.

“You were my deadcrush back in the day.” You mutter, hiding your lips with the tomato. Bucky stops mid-chew and freezes completely, unsure if the confession is just another trick his mind is playing on him. Maybe a breeze in the wind just sounds like your voice. “Not to make this weird…” you supply almost fearfully.

“Oh…”

“I mean— you know, it was totally normal. All the girls either liked Captain America or Sergeant Barnes.” You stuff the tomato in your mouth and reach for another just to busy your hands. Bucky’s face heats up like the morning, and he takes a sip of orange juice to calm it down.

“Sure,” you ramble onward, tomato flinging around between your fingers as you gesture back and forth, “I mean, most of them liked Cap— golden lion boy and all—hero’s journey kind of thing… I guess I felt, closer to you.”

You exhale deeply, “When you first came to the tower, I thought I was dreaming. Can you imagine? I felt like I was in the sixth grade.”

His brow furrows as he ponders your question. “Is that why you’re so nice to me?” It slips out before he can catch it, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

“Probably at first,” You admit with a little shrug, “But eventually the schoolgirl crush thing went away, and I started liking you way more. Genuinely, y’know? Not under the thumb of a paltry, fleeting thing.”

He forgets how unexpectedly introspective you can be.

The tomato in your hand is only a shimmer of juice on your fingers now and you reach for something else to occupy yourself lest you become reduced to just weighing your hands together out of nervousness. You pause when Bucky asks, shocked, “You l-like me?”

Then, a smile, against the warming backdrop, he thinks you look like something out of a painter’s imagination—a delicate page from Steve’s notepad. A gentle breeze picks up your lashes, makes you squint a little.

“Yeah. I like you a lot.”

How does someone say such a heavy thing so easily? Bucky turns hot all over, heart beating too fast from your statement and the coffee made too strongly. “Thank you.”

You laugh and throw your head back for a second before shaking your hair wildly and sitting up, as if you’re discarding something. Light bounces off your cheeks as you catch your breath and take the coffee thermos from him. “You’re welcome, Bucky.” Then, softer, “Look.”

A streak of yellow opens up the sky in the east, melting away the ink around it into flames of blood orange and cerise. Still twinkling are the stars entrenched in deep blue further away.

“I’m not dead anymore.” He states plainly. “I can’t be your deadcrush if I’m not dead anymore.”

A chortle escapes- snorts and scoffs and not at all what he expects when you push your hand to your face and laugh in such a way that he might for a split second find it unattractive. But he doesn’t. He finds it so truly endearing that his heart swells like clouds over the morning sky.

A part of him quiets with the settling feeling of disappointment. Your silence gets swirled around in the next bitter mouthful of coffee and Bucky kicks his heel aimlessly against the concrete rooftop. To his left, you scoot a little closer, reach over and take the thermos from his hand. Your fingers linger, and then you put the container down.

“Bucky,” You say. His name so sweetly rolls off your tongue he can taste it—spun sugar and molasses in his mouth. It’s orange and yellow and blue behind you. Your eyes glisten with promise, as sure as the sunrise.

“You can want things, like love.”

It’s so forthright it punches the air right out of him. Before he knows it, you are leaning forward with a smile, planting a tender kiss on his cheek as he stares on open-mouthed and in awe.

And then, you break the moment with a yawn covered by your hand and groan as fatigue slips over like a blanket. “Oh fuck, I am beat, Sarge. Why’d you let me stay up so late?”

He only smiles before he puts his hand over yours for just a moment. “Come on,” He says, “I’ll help you clean up.” But the moment changes again, and he finds himself crawling past the containers of egg and toast, nearly knocking over the juice to hover over your mouth.

Coffee and cream linger between hesitant lips. Then there is a feverish clash-- you, clambering to sit up, to match him in enthusiasm-- him, bold enough to meet your surge with two large hands. He snakes them around your waist, crushing your torso to his.

Your fingers create a separation between your stomachs as you ruck his shirt up, gripping his chest and back and digging into his shoulder. A sharp breath escapes before he comes to snuff it out, licking your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

“Jesus.” You mutter when you break away for air, eyes still closed, “God. Okay. This is happening.”

Bucky laughs and sits back, places his hand on your bare thigh, shaking his head. “I—yeah, well maybe not here.”

“Yeah- yeah, of course… I .. get so caught up.”

He laughs again, because he knows. It’s why you haven’t slept all night, why you made a feast for just two people watching a sunrise, why you ramble on about the most mundane things but somehow still enrapture him, and it’s why he likes you. Your cheeks burn when the first ray of sunshine shoots over the tree scape.

A ding next to your hand catches his attention—a text from Steve.

You peer at it curiously before opening the message. Bucky looks too, and sees the image of the same sunrise he’s witnessed, but over the familiarity of the East Side sprawl.

A second message appears, Steve grinning, Peter winking.

A third one with a single, cheeky question: You and Buck doin’ good?

Bucky slips his shirt back down his golden torso while you tap out a furious response, groaning at the way you’ve been set up by your friends. Before you can send it, he takes the device from you and places it face-down on the roof with a smile. “Are we?” He asks, suddenly shy. “Doin’ good?”

Quietly, you nod.

In the middle of a second kiss, Bucky knows he’s done for. He’s falling hard and fast and can’t stop.

In the middle of a third kiss, you’re there next to him, all smiles and wonder as the two of you plunge together.

Part 2

[samthemarvelfan]

Goodbyes: Chapter Seven

Summary: Ella Monroe is the Avengers newest recruit, handpicked by Steve Rogers himself. Indebted to him for reasons unknown, Cap pairs her up with Bucky Barnes. He is tasked with training her to relearn and hone the skills that have long since rusted. Bucky is cold and distant, and Ella can’t seem to break through the wall he’s built up for decades. He sees something in her though, and it scares him to death. Has the fate of these two strangers been sealed? …or will they always be longing…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark

Warnings: DARKER THEMES AHEAD. Angst, Bucky is a dick, mutual pining, self sabotage, PTSD, Fluff! Mentions of Panic attacks, flashbacks, and vomiting Def not following a specific MCU canon or timeline.

A/N: WOW! I am so grateful for all the love! Thank you so much @captain-rogers-beard for taking the time to not only read, but enjoy and reblog my work! i am honored! Please enjoy this hastily written chapter. (life is hard, but i love yall so much(

Taglist:@iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @heartofagamotto​  (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry! Tags are OPEN!)

Bucky should have kissed her.

When he woke up, it was the only thing on his mind. He would do just about anything to turn the clock back, so he could grab her face in his hands and feel her pillowy lips against his.

Just imagining it sent a familiar heat to Bucky’s lower abdomen.

“Hey Iceman, what’s up?” Sam said as he entered the training room.

Bucky looked up, shaken out of his daydream, “Hey Sam, hows it going?”

Sam feigned a look of shock, “Wow you’re in a good mood this mornin’! Any particular reason why? Hm?”

Bucky smiled to himself as he moved equipment to make space, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Sam laughed, “Whatever you say, just tell me one thing—y’all fuck yet or what?”

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, “What?”

“You and Ella. Did you guy fuck yet?”

His causal tone threw Bucky for a loop. Bucky swallowed hard and shook his head, “Sam it’s not..I don’t...I’m just—“

“See that’s your problem right there,” Sam interjected, “you don’t know what the hell you want with that girl, but you know you want her. I’ve seen you guys in a room together, the sexual tension is off the charts.”

Bucky laid mats down in the center of the room, “Sam, she’s just a—“

“A recruit. Yeah I know, but if you think for one second I believe that’s all you see her as then Iceman, I got some baaaad news for you.”

Sam took a sip from his water bottle, taking in Bucky’s expression. He looked happy on the surface, but Sam saw the dissatisfaction wading underneath.

“Bucky,” Sam called. He only ever used his name when he was serious. “Why are you so hard on that girl? It’s so obvious you two are crazy about one another. Why are you pushing her away?”

Bucky looked up to Sam, and simply shook his head. “I’m not good. For her or anybody else...but especially her.”

Sam look at him confused, “What the hell is that suppose to mean?”

Bucky sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Don’t you think I would love to be a guy who could have a girl like that on my arm without worrying I might kill her? That I could take her out somewhere and not have this constant paranoia hanging over my head like a guillotine ready to drop at any second?”

Bucky hadn’t said these thoughts out loud to anyone, not even Steve. “Sam she’s...she’s everything I want but can never have. I gotta keep my distance, but she makes it impossible. I’m mean to her, downright cruel, and boy, does she give it back to me...” Bucky smiled and let out a chuckle at the thought.

“But she’s kind. She’s so sweet and genuine and I-I’m a time bomb. Ella...she’s been through hell and back. I don’t want her to have to go through anything like that again.”

Sam stood in front of his friend, seeing the pain in his eyes. He sighed taking a step toward Bucky, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Does she make you happy?”

Bucky looked up confused, “Did you not just hear m—“

“Does. She. Make. You. Happy?” Sam repeated.

Bucky nodded slowly, “She makes me feel alive again. After feeling nothing for almost a century.”

Sam nodded to himself. “If I were you Barnes? I wouldn’t push away my chance at happiness. Who knows? You might be her chance too.”

You look through the doors to the training room and see Sam with Bucky.

Is he passing me off to Sam again? You think.

You take a deep breath and push the door open. They stop their conversation and Sam turns to you.

“What’s up, Punchline? How you doin’?” He asks happily.

You can’t help but smile, his grin is infectious. “Hey Sam, you joining in on the fun today?” You ask, hoping for a regretful answer.

Sam shakes his head, “No, apparently Barnes wants you all to himself. Isn’t that right, Iceman?”

You look to Bucky whose gaze is unwavering, “Ella needs an actual trainer, not a comedian with a whistle.” He jests.

Sam’s jaw drops open slightly and you let out a small giggle.

“Alright, alright. I see when I’m not wanted. Catch ya later, Punchline. And Barnes, I’ll see you in hell.” He flips Bucky off on his way out the door, and you can’t help but laugh.

A few moment pass as a comfortable silence falls over the room. You try not too, but you can’t help but remember the last time you were here. When you were alone with Sergeant Barnes, and what happened.

When he almost killed you.

He noticed the sudden discomfort in your eyes. “Hi, Els.” His smooth, honey voice calls to you; drawing you in.

“Hey, Sarge.” You reply kindly.

He steps forward, testing the waters. “Bucky.” He says.

You look at him confused. “What?”

“Bucky. Use my name. Please.” He says quietly.

“But I thought—“

“I like your voice. The way you say my name...I like it.” His boldness takes you by surprise, but nonetheless you smile.

A small nod, “Bucky.” You say happily.

He smiles back, a real genuine smile. One of the first you think you’ve seen from him.

“Where’s your sling, Doll?” He asks concerned.

“Oh,” you say baring your bandage covered shoulder to him. “When I woke up this morning, my shoulder was...I don’t know. It feels...different? The wound itself still hurts but somehow, it feels healed.”

Bucky’s brow furrows, “Can I?” He gestured to the bandage, and you nod.

He gently sweeps your hair behind your shoulder, rubbing circles on the exposed skin.

When he pulls back the bandage he can’t help but be a little curious.

“Have you ever been injured like this before?” He asks, replacing the bandage.

You shake your head. “No, when I was...where I was, they were very careful not to hurt me this bad.”

“Why’s that?” He asked.

You smile sadly, “Can’t use a punching bag with a hole in it, can you?”

A flash of anger dances in Bucky’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Doll.”

You shrug, “I can’t change the past, no point in living in it.” You push the flashbacks out as they threaten your mind once again. You’re not going to ruin this. Not this time.

Bucky strokes your arm a few times, before his hand grasps at yours loosely. “When HYDRA had you, Steve said they experimented on you?”

He asks like he’s afraid of both your reaction and your answer.

You nod. “Yeah. They injected me with so many solutions and serums. I have no idea what any of it was or did.”

Bucky smiled softly and gently thumbed your knuckles. “Well whatever it was, one of them must have helped you with healing. Steve and I share that trait too. Cuts heal in hours, fractures and breaks in a few days.”

You nod thoughtfully to yourself. “Huh, finally a perk from those assholes.”

He dropped your hand softly, “We’re gonna take it easy still...I don’t wanna push you too hard.”

A laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“What?” Bucky asks curiously.

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Sergeant Barnes?” You ask sarcastically.

Without missing a beat, Bucky steps into you, cupping your cheek with his hand. The pad of his thumb is swept over your cheekbone tenderly, prickling your skin with goosebumps.

“I’m trying to be me. The real me. We got off to a terrible start and that’s my fault. I’m sorry.” His voice is so genuine and honest, it takes you by surprise.

“You like keeping me on my toes, huh?” You ask.

He nods fondly, “I could say the same about you, ya k now.”

Silence crept into the room, blanketing the air you shared with him. Suddenly, you can’t help but look to his lips.

It would be so easy to kiss him, too easy. You look down to Bucky’s feet hoping to shake the eagerness from your bones, but it doesn’t help.

“Look at me, Els...” he coaxes you.

You catch his gaze again, and your breathing hitches in your chest.

“I’m gonna earn your trust, Doll. I promise.” Bucky whispers.

Before you had the chance to reply, a chime echoed in the room.

“Excuse me, Sergeant Barnes you’re needed urgently in briefing room C.” FRIDAY’s accent called out.

He looked confused for a moment, “On whose order?”

“Mr. Stark’s.” It was a simple reply, but a telling one nonetheless.

Bucky looked at you quickly, “Let’s go.”

On your way back to the compound, you couldn’t help the nervous feeling in your stomach. Since Tony retired, he never helped out for missions. He came in a few times a month to check on the property and get debriefings from the staff, but his main job was being a Dad.

That’s why when you heard it was him calling for Bucky, you knew something was up.

“What do you think it is?” You asked Bucky, shoving your hands deep in your pockets.

The elevator doors opened and Bucky ushered you out, placing his hand on the small of your back.

“Not sure, but if Tony’s involved it can’t be good.”

As you approached the room, you saw Cap, Bruce, Sam and Wanda at the table, Tony heading the meeting.

You slowed, allowing Bucky to walk ahead of you.

“Come on, Doll.” He said matter-of-factly.

You shook your head, “They didn’t ask for me.”

Bucky chuckled, “Just come on.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. 

The room got instantly quiet. “Look who decided to join us...” Sam jested.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve said kindly.

You sat in the chair by the door, ready to leave if you were asked too. Why should you be here? You’re not an Avenger—or whatever these guys are called now.

“We all know why we’re here. They’re back. This time it seems like for good.” Tony spoke.

He pressed a button on the console, projecting a hologram above the table.

It showed an aerial image of some kind of camp, though fortress would probably be the better word. You stared at the image, when your stomach suddenly dropped. Your skin prickling and clammy before you had time to think.

“Where is this?” Wanda asked.

“Romania.” You whispered.

All eyes were suddenly on you. “Ella? You know this place?” Steve asked.

You nodded subtly, “Y-yeah. I—excuse me.”

Feet carrying you faster than your body wanted, you ran from the conference room. Opting for the stairs instead of the elevator, you run down the several flights to the living quarters.

Luckily, you made it to your bathroom before you were sick. Unable to stop the dry heaving and shaking, you knew there was no point. You’d successfully avoided the flashbacks for over a year, stealing your mind had become second nature, but this...this was too much.

The light headed feeling over took you as you laid in your bed. You desperately drank water, hoping to calm your nerves, but nothing was helping. This was a panic attack, one of the worst you could remember.

“Ella? Ella open up.” Steve’s voice was outside your room, muffled by the door.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move.

“FRIDAY?” You heard him ask. The A.I. didn’t respond, she simply unlocked the door.

You were in the fetal position now, hugging the pillow desperately to your chest.

“Ella.” He said, moving his hand to stroke your back. His touch elicited a fight or flight response you’d been denying for months. You instinctively began kicking and punching him.

“No! No! Don’t take me! Don’t touch me! Stop!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Steve wasn’t there. You were suddenly back in Romania, in the cell you’d been kept in. The faceless men of your mind were there, touching you. Stabbing you. Hurting you.

“Ella no! Please it’s me, it’s Steve. You gotta fight it, Ella.” He tried you comfort you. “You’re safe, Ella, I promise you’re safe!”

Without warning, the faceless men vanished. Revealing a panicked Steve, sat just inches from you on your bed.

Oxygen filled your lungs once again, as you began to come down from your panic attack.

“Steve?” You question.

He nodded, stroking your hair. “It’s me. You’re safe. It’s me.” He pulled you in for a hug.

You blinked the tears out of your eyes, “Oh my God. Steve, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

He shook it head, “Stop that. Stop that right now, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I didn’t know you’d be coming in with Buck, I wouldn’t have let them show that had I known...”

“No, I can’t be put in this bubble and hidden away my whole life! It’s not your fault, it just took me off guard, I haven’t seen that place...thought about it in so long I just...” your voice drifted off as you wiped your eyes.

The camp was where you’d been held--where you’d been taken from your family and hidden away all those years ago.

It took a while, but you’d calmed down. People kept coming to check on you, but Cap would kindly move them along, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

It seemed everyone had come to see you, except one person. The one person you actually wanted to see.

“Cap? Where’s Bucky?” You ask innocently

Steve sighed, “Bucky’s been sent ahead of the rest of us.”

Your eyes widened, “Sent? Sent where? Not Romania. Steve he can’t do this alone he can’t, they’ll—“

“We’re headed there tonight. In just a few hours in fact.” He replied, cutting you off.

You stood from your bed grabbing your pistol from the night stand. “Let’s go now, he needs backup.” You’re desperately trying to hide the panic in your voice.

“Ella no, we’re going. You’re not ready for this.” Steve stood from you bed as well, what does he mean not ready?

“Steve I can’t just sit here and—“

“You can and you will. That’s an order, Ella. It’s clear you need more time to heal, both mentally and physically.” Steve put a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You said it yourself, you need time. I want you to take it.”

The wind had been knocked out of you. You nod at Steve somberly, accepting his words for what they were; orders.

A few hours after Steve had left, you hear the rumble of the Quinjet take off from the roof. Despite the lack of worry in his voice, you could help the awful feeling in your stomach, telling you something terrible was going to happen...

and you couldn’t do anything about it.

You worried for Bucky, but despite your worry you couldn't help wonder why he just left. Why he wouldn't come check on you, or at least say goodbye. He just...left.

You flopped on the couch in the common room, flicking mindlessly through the channels. Tonight would bring nothing but sleepless bouts and nightmares.

You shut the tv off and stare at the ceiling, unsure of when, or if you’d see Bucky Barnes again.

Chapter Eight: Light Bulb

[frankiefellinlove]

This is it! The whole article where John Landau writes that Bruce “is the future of rock n roll”. Long but so worth the read, to see that quote in context.

GROWING YOUNG WITH ROCK AND ROLL

By Jon Landau

The Real Paper

May 22, 1974📷

It's four in the morning and raining. I'm 27 today, feeling old, listening to my records, and remembering that things were diffferent a decade ago. In 1964, I was a freshman at Brandeis University, playing guitar and banjo five hours a day, listening to records most of the rest of the time, jamming with friends during the late-night hours, working out the harmonies to Beach Boys' and Beatles' songs.

Real Paper soul writer Russell Gersten was my best friend and we would run through the 45s everyday: Dionne Warwick's "Walk On By" and "Anyone Who Had A Heart," the Drifters' "Up On the Roof," Jackie Ross' "Selfish One," the Marvellettes' "Too Many Fish in the Sea," and the one that no one ever forgets, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas' "Heat Wave." Later that year a special woman named Tamar turned me onto Wilson Pickett's "Midnight Hour" and Otis Redding's "Respect," and then came the soul. Meanwhile, I still went to bed to the sounds of the Byrds' "Mr. Tambourine Man" and later "Younger than Yesterday," still one of my favorite good-night albums. I woke up to Having a Rave-Up with the Yardbirds instead of coffee. And for a change of pace, there was always bluegrass: The Stanley Brothers, Bill Monroe, and Jimmy Martin.

Through college, I consumed sound as if it were the staff of life. Others enjoyed drugs, school, travel, adventure. I just liked music: listening to it, playing it, talking about it. If some followed the inspiration of acid, or Zen, or dropping out, I followed the spirit of rock'n'roll.

Individual songs often achieved the status of sacraments. One September, I was driving through Waltham looking for a new apartment when the sound on the car radio stunned me. I pulled over to the side of the road, turned it up, demanded silence of my friends and two minutes and fifty-six second later knew that God had spoken to me through the Four Tops' "Reach Out, I'll Be There," a record that I will cherish for as long as [I] live.

During those often lonely years, music was my constant companion and the search for the new record was like a search for a new friend and new revelation. "Mystic Eyes" open mine to whole new vistas in white rock and roll and there were days when I couldn't go to sleep without hearing it a dozen times.

Whether it was a neurotic and manic approach to music, or just a religious one, or both, I don't really care. I only know that, then, as now, I'm grateful to the artists who gave the experience to me and hope that I can always respond to them.

The records were, of course, only part of it. In '65 and '66 I played in a band, the Jellyroll, that never made it. At the time I concluded that I was too much of a perfectionist to work with the other band members; in the end I realized I was too much of an autocrat, unable to relate to other people enough to share music with them.

Realizing that I wasn't destined to play in a band, I gravitated to rock criticism. Starting with a few wretched pieces in Broadside and then some amateurish but convincing reviews in the earliest Crawdaddy, I at least found a substitute outlet for my desire to express myself about rock: If I couldn't cope with playing, I may have done better writing about it.

But in those days, I didn't see myself as a critic -- the writing was just another extension of an all-encompassing obsession. It carried over to my love for live music, which I cared for even more than the records. I went to the Club 47 three times a week and then hunted down the rock shows -- which weren't so easy to find because they weren't all conveniently located at downtown theatres. I flipped for the Animals' two-hour show at Rindge Tech; the Rolling Stones, not just at Boston Garden, where they did the best half hour rock'n'roll set I had ever seen, but at Lynn Football Stadium, where they started a riot; Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels overcoming the worst of performing conditions at Watpole Skating Rink; and the Beatles at Suffolk Down, plainly audible, beatiful to look at, and confirmation that we -- and I -- existed as a special body of people who understood the power and the flory of rock'n'roll.

I lived those days with a sense of anticipation. I worked in Briggs & Briggs a few summers and would know when the next albums were coming. The disappointment when the new Stones was a day late, the exhilaration when Another Side of Bob Dylan showed up a week early. The thrill of turning on WBZ and hearing some strange sound, both beautiful and horrible, but that demanded to be heard again; it turned out to be "You've Lost That Loving Feeling," a record that stands just behind "Reach Out I'll Be There" as means of musical catharsis.

My temperament being what it is, I often enjoyed hating as much as loving. That San Francisco shit corrupted the purity of the rock that I lvoed and I could have led a crusade against it. The Moby Grape moved me, but those songs about White Rabbits and hippie love made me laugh when they didn't make me sick. I found more rock'n'roll in the dubbed-in hysteria on the Rolling Stones Got Live if You Want It than on most San Francisco albums combined.

For every moment I remember there are a dozen I've forgotten, but I feel like they are with me on a night like this, a permanent part of my consciousness, a feeling lost on my mind but never on my soul. And then there are those individual experiences so transcendent that I can remember them as if they happened yesterday: Sam and Dave at the Soul Together at Madison Square Garden in 1967: every gesture, every movement, the order of the songs. I would give anything to hear them sing "When Something's Wrong with My Baby" just the way they did it that night.

The obsessions with Otis Redding, Jerry Butler, and B.B. King came a little bit later; each occupied six months of my time, while I digested every nuance of every album. Like the Byrds, I turn to them today and still find, when I least expect it, something new, something deeply flet, something that speaks to me.

As I left college in 1969 and went into record production I started exhausting my seemingly insatiable appetite. I felt no less intensely than before about certain artists; I just felt that way about fewer of them. I not only became more discriminating but more indifferent. I found it especially hard to listen to new faces. I had accumulated enough musical experience to fall back on when I needed its companionship but during this period in my life I found I needed music less and people, whom I spend too much of my life ignoring, much more.

Today I listen to music with a certain measure of detachment. I'm a professional and I make my living commenting on it. There are months when I hate it, going through the routine just as a shoe salesman goes through his. I follow films with the passion that music once held for me. But in my own moments of greatest need, I never give up the search for sounds that can answer every impulse, consume all emotion, cleanse and purify -- all things that we have no right to expect from even the greatest works of art but which we can occasionally derive from them.

Still, today, if I hear a record I like it is no longer a signal for me to seek out every other that the artist has made. I take them as they come, love them, and leave them. Some have stuck -- a few that come quickly to mind are Neil Young's After the Goldrush, Stevie Wonder's Innervisions, Van Morrison's Tupelo Honey, James Taylor's records, Valerie Simpson's Exposed, Randy Newman's Sail Away, Exile on Main Street, Ry Cooder's records, and, very specially, the last three albums of Joni Mitchell -- but many more slip through the mind, making much fainter impressions than their counterparts of a decade ago.

But tonight there is someone I can write of the way I used to write, without reservations of any kind. Last Thursday, at the Harvard Square theatre, I saw my rock'n'roll past flash before my eyes. And I saw something else: I saw rock and roll future and its name is Bruce Springsteen. And on a night when I needed to feel young, he made me feel like I was hearing music for the very first time.

When his two-hour set ended I could only think, can anyone really be this good; can anyone say this much to me, can rock'n'roll still speak with this kind of power and glory? And then I felt the sores on my thighs where I had been pounding my hands in time for the entire concert and knew that the answer was yes.

Springsteen does it all. He is a rock'n'roll punk, a Latin street poet, a ballet dancer, an actor, a joker, bar band leader, hot-shit rhythm guitar player, extraordinary singer, and a truly great rock'n'roll composer. He leads a band like he has been doing it forever. I racked my brains but simply can't think of a white artist who does so many things so superbly. There is no one I would rather watch on a stage today. He opened with his fabulous party record "The E Street Shuffle" -- but he slowed it down so graphically that it seemed a new song and it worked as well as the old. He took his overpowering story of a suicide, "For You," and sang it with just piano accompaniment and a voice that rang out to the very last row of the Harvard Square theatre. He did three new songs, all of them street trash rockers, one even with a "Telstar" guitar introduction and an Eddie Cochran rhythm pattern. We missed hearing his "Four Winds Blow," done to a fare-thee-well at his sensational week-long gig at Charley's but "Rosalita" never sounded better and "Kitty's Back," one of the great contemporary shuffles, rocked me out of my chair, as I personally led the crowd to its feet and kept them there.

Bruce Springsteen is a wonder to look at. Skinny, dressed like a reject from Sha Na Na, he parades in front of his all-star rhythm band like a cross between Chuck Berry, early Bob Dylan, and Marlon Brando. Every gesture, every syllable adds something to his ultimate goal -- to liberate our spirit while he liberates his by baring his soul through his music. Many try, few succeed, none more than he today.

It's five o'clock now -- I write columns like this as fast as I can for fear I'll chicken out -- and I'm listening to "Kitty's Back." I do feel old but the record and my memory of the concert has made me feel a little younger. I still feel the spirit and it still moves me.

I bought a new home this week and upstairs in the bedroom is a sleeping beauty who understands only too well what I try to do with my records and typewriter. About rock'n'roll, the Lovin' Spoonful once sang, "I'll tell you about the magic that will free your soul/But it's like trying to tell a stranger about rock'n'roll." Last Thursday, I remembered that the magic still exists and as long as I write about rock, my mission is to tell a stranger about it -- just as long as I remember that I'm the stranger I'm writing for.

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap | September 2-8

It seems this week’s rec is making up for the short one I had last week XD Enjoy!

PS: if you’re a writer/fanartist and I’ve tagged you on Tumblr, but not Twitter (or vice versa), and you have an account on both platforms, please let me know! It’s probably because I don’t know your username(s) on every platform. 

~

Complete

This Bucky with This Steve by debwalsh/ @debwalsh​ (Actors AU | 1,8K | Not rated): Ascendant star Bucky with washed up but hoping for a comeback Steve...

💙 The Barnes Exotic Animal Rescue (for Magical Creatures) by Deisderium/ @deisderium​ (Shrunkyclunks, witch Bucky | 5,6K | General): In which Steve Rogers stumbles across the Barnes Exotic Animal Rescue for Magical Creatures, meets a witch named Bucky, accidentally adopts a unicorn, and never wants to leave.

💙 You be yours and I'll be mine by verzacefatale/ @verzacefatale (Post-CW |13K | Explicit): “Oh, god. We got married, didn’t we?” Steve sounds like he’s trying not to panic. “Seems that way,” Bucky says, before he bursts out laughing at the bewildered look on Steve’s face. “Come on, pal. It’s not the end of the world.”

Keep Me by dixons_mama (Evanstan RPF | 1,6K | Explicit): After working endlessly on interviews for Disney, filming 355, and now attending GQ's Men of the Year event, Sebastian is tired down to his bones. Yet, he he finds himself wanting to just be near Chris.

A Pal in the Hand is Worth Two in the Jacuzzi by dixons_mama (PWP | 1,7K | Explicit): Bucky asks for Steve's help getting off, being the good friend (that's also stupidly in love) he is, Steve obliges.

Quicksand's Got No Sense of Humor by paperstorm (Canon | 2,6K | Teen):  And Steve will be okay, because he doesn’t have any other option. It’s only a million tiny cuts all over his body, his heart, his soul, slowly bleeding him dry. How could be not be okay, when Bucky’s been through so much worse. (💙 Part 1 of Under the Dome)

Through the Monsoon by paperstorm/ @paper-storm​ (Post-CW | 3,1K | Mature): Steve’s expression is blank, empty, except for his eyes. A hardened, cold, unfeeling look is in his eyes, as they stare unseeing into the space in front of him. Bucky knows how this goes. It isn’t a regular occurrence, it's only happened a few times in the last half-year, but it isn’t good. Steve is an expert at shaking things off – which is either fortunate or unfortunate, depending on who’s asked about it – so when he can’t, it means things went really wrong. (💙 Part 3 of Under the Dome)

A Lifetime is Never Enough by paperstorm/ @paper-storm​ (Post-CW | 3K | Mature): Bucky reaches for him with his hand, eyes still closed, and Steve curls up against his side. Bucky’s arm goes around him, fingers sliding up to tangle in Steve’s hair. The sleep-warmed skin of his neck is a heavenly place for Steve to rest his forehead, tension going out of his limbs and greedily breathing in Bucky’s smell, his warmth, the safety his bed offers. (💙 Part 4 of Under the Dome)

Chasing The Light by paperstorm/ @paper-storm​ (Endgame fix-it | 7K | Mature): “The thing about you and me?” Bucky says, "is that the world isn’t as stubborn as we are. You’re right, I can’t promise it won’t separate us again. But I can promise we’ll find each other again if it does. Because we always do.” (💙 Part 5 of Under the Dome)

like rum on a fire by mcwho (PWP | 1,4K | Explicit): “You’re the one who wanted to see how far I could push you. You know how I like to follow orders, Buck,” Steve tells him, teasing drawl to his voice because Steve Rogers has never followed a goddamn order in his goddamn life up ‘til right about now.

Flaws by dixons_mama (PWP | 1,3K | Explicit): Steve catches Bucky scrutinizing his body, and while trying to reassure him, feels and smut ensue.

Recompense by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Endgame fix-it | 2K | Not rated): When Steve Rogers travels to Vormir to return the Soul Stone, he’s greeted with an unexpected choice that will change his life.

Warmth by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Modern AU | 5,3K | Mature): When Bucky Barnes receives the report that there is a guy lost on his mountain, he’s not prepared for the complications that ensue.

Wheels by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Modern AU | 2,3K | Not rated): Teacher Steve Rogers is ready to settle into a lounger and enjoy his neighbor Natasha’s pool when he finds himself staring at the most beautiful man he’d ever seen already lounging with intent.

Won’t You Be My Neighbor? by debwalsh/ @debwalsh (Shrunkyclunks | 1,6K | Teen): Steve moves into an apartment with a Captain America impersonator, and Bucky is the building super, and gets them mixed up.

💙 it takes a lot to know a man by kittyandmulder, steebadore (Modern AU |39K | Explicit): Bucky flips to the next page, and the world around him grinds to a halt as his brain struggles to process what he's seeing. The noise of the train fades and static fills the inside of his head as he looks down at the sketches of the metal-armed guy without the mask. It's—that's him. It's Bucky's own goddamn face staring back at him from this stranger's sketchbook."What the fuck."

Double Trouble by HeroicPinups, kittyandmulder/ @kittyandmulder​ (PWP, Steve/Bucky/Steve | 2,7K | Explicit): Bucky finds himself stuck in a super soldier sandwich. How unfortunate.

💙 time on my hands (could be time spent with you) by thedoubteriswise/ @thedoubteriswise​ (Post-CW | 23K | Mature): There’s no reason to be nervous. Steve’s just going to go see his best friend. This is Bucky, for God's sake, what could there possibly be to be nervous about? It's only been a little over a month since Bucky went under. He'd practically seen him yesterday.

~

Reading in progress

💙 Servitum by justanotherStonyfan/ @justanotherstonyfan (canon-divergent, Shrunkyclunks | 43K | Explicit): Steve's affection can be huge, almost palpable. His desire to take care of James can be overwhelming. But James can't think of a point so far where Steve's been overwhelming that he hasn't enjoyed immensely - and if they can roleplay some lifelong memories out of a spanking session, a shibari tutorial, and a carefully lit table, he's pretty sure providing Steve with the opportunity to do something he may not even be aware of wanting should go down a treat, and make for a pretty awesome afternoon. ( 💙Part 28 of the Honey Honey series)

~

WIP

💙 Cakes & Balances by mambo/ @whtaft (POTUS Steve | 16K | 8/? | Teen): It’s kind of hard to date the cute baker from down the street when you’re the President of the United States of America. But Steve Rogers will make it work.

oh the glory of it all by hitlikehammers (Post-Endgame | 4K | 1/23 | Mature): They end up stumbling almost unexpectedly into the white-picket-fence, apple-pie life they used to dream of. Except it’s not like that at all.

💙 An Escort's Guide to Navigating Tricky Work Relationships by Hopeless--Geek (wuzzy90)/ @hopelessartgeek​, Mystrana/ @mystrana​ (Escort AU | 24K | 4/5 | Explicit): Steve is an outspoken leader of the fight for escort legalization. He wants to show the world that they have relationships just like everyone else, but hasn’t dated in the past five years because he’s been so busy with work. Bucky’s still not quite recovered from a bad relationship with a boyfriend who degraded his choice of work. And while he can define professional boundaries like it’s his job (it is), Bucky’s not great at handling his personal life. A story of navigating tricky work relationships.

💙 This Side of the Blue by notlucy/ @notlucy (Mermaid AU | 121K | 33/44 | Explicit): A trick was the only explanation for what Steve saw floating there. This figment of his childhood. This myth. This legend. Within the tank, the siren bared its teeth.

💙 Political Animals by crinklefries/ @spacerenegades​, Deisderium/ @deisderium (Modern AU, politics | 29K | 4/9 | Explicit): Okay, so the real problem is that you shouldn’t fuck your arch-rival, political enemy, and the person you loathe the most in the world where you work. Or like, at least, you shouldn’t keep doing that.

~

Re-read

💙 straight from your heart by luninosity/ @luninosity​ (Stucky in Wakanda | 10K | Explicit): Steve doesn’t mean to have the orgasm. Not exactly. Not the first time, anyway.

💙 Tinder Is the Night by rohkeutta/ @rohkeutta​ (Modern AU, Tinder | 7K | Explicit): It’s the quality that gets him first. The profile photo looks like it's been taken with a semi-professional camera: it's sharp and remarkably unposed compared to most people on Tinder. The guy in the photo is the size of a fucking fridge but with Marilyn Monroe’s waistline, accentuated by the way he’s standing half-twisted towards the camera. He’s also in the process of getting arrested.

💙 If Only In My Dreams by odetteandodile (Modern AU | 28K | Teen): Bucky is a highly successful cooking and lifestyle blogger, the gay New England Pioneer Woman if you will. He writes all about life in his Connecticut home with his D.H. (darling husband). Only problem? It’s all complete fiction. When his agent Sam informs him that he's been offered an exclusive sponsorship deal with Stark Media and a three book contract to go with it, Bucky's forced to fess up to Sam, who's predictably...displeased. But Sam's also convinced the deal is too good to miss—even if they have to put on a little bit of a show in order to get it. So Tony and Pepper descend on Bucky and Sam's fake home for Christmas with a devastatingly handsome War Hero in tow, and their already complicated plan quickly gets even more complicated as Bucky finds himself falling head over heels for Steve. Can he keep it together just for the holidays? Did he ever have it together in the first place?

💙 took my love, took it down by LaughsAtThunder (Post-WS | 31K | Explicit): The problem, Bucky thinks now that he has most of his memories back, is that his whole entire world has always revolved around Steve Rogers. Steve has been always been half of Bucky’s identity. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ wingman. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ teammate. And now, well, now Steve had other people to fill those positions. And of course, of course he’d always been a little bit in love with Steve. So when he overhears Steve telling Natasha that he’s finally found someone he’d like to date, someone with similar life experience, Bucky clings blindly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Steve is talking about him.

💙 Sex, Drugs, & Needles by OhCaptainMyCaptain/ @ohcaptainmycaptain1918​ (Modern AU, tattoo artist Bucky | 38K | Explicit): Bucky's a bit of a masochist in that sense – needles and the buzz of a tattoo gun have always turned him on... It’s even worse that this client is what they call a ‘needle virgin’. Doesn’t appear to have a piercing anywhere on him, and he’s already made it clear that he has no prior ink. Bucky’s always found something inherently sexy about being the first person to introduce another to that experience. He has absolutely no problem popping this guy's needle cherry.

[brideofedoras]

The Loft: Redemption

Disclaimer: the usual.  

Word count: 2600+

Warnings: Mentions of sex dreams, masturbation, naughty thoughts and implied naked Vincent Stevens.  

Rating: 18+

Chapter 5

Vincent groaned into his pillow after glancing at the alarm clock.  Three twenty-six in the morning and he was wide awake.

He blamed the dream.  Jesus Christ, did he blame the dream.

The same dream he’d had every night since he’d nearly kissed Sam in the conference room.  When she had straightened his tie and told him she didn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression because he was a rumpled mess.

He rolled onto his back and tossed the covers off.  “She’s off-limits, Stevens,” he muttered as he scrubbed his hands over his face.  “Too good for an asshole like you, you’d only ruin her.”

He slipped out of bed and stalked across the loft to the bathroom.  He screwed his eyes shut when he flipped on the light, the sudden brightness burning.  “She deserves better.”

Deserves better than a man pushing forty with a history of womanizing and cheating.  A man who had been arrested for murder.  A man paying dearly in alimony and child support with strict and limited visitation with his children.  A man who had fought and struggled and clawed his way back from rock bottom to keep his company afloat.

He squinted his eyes as he opened them, locking onto the shadowed eyes in the mirror.  “She’s too young for me anyway,” he sighed heavily before turning toward the shower and turning it on.  He adjusted it to the coldest temperature he could stand and stripped out of his blue and grey plaid pajama bottoms.  His erection, brought on by the damned erotic dream, throbbed against his abdomen.  He glared at it.  "Cold showers at three thirty in the god damned morning are not my idea of fun,“ he muttered before stepping into the shower.  He bit back a yelp as the stream of cold water hit his skin. 

Vincent ducked his head under the icy spray, welcoming the shock and hoping it would kill his raging desire so he would not have to deal with it himself.  In the past it never bothered him to jack off in the shower.  Back then he hadn’t given a damn.  But now?

Now he felt dirty.  He felt disgusted any time he had to bring himself to completion after dreaming about making love (not fucking, not screwing, not banging, making slow, sweet love) to Sam in his office or on the damned conference table.  But the cold shower was not helping kill the lust.  With a growl he soaped up his hands before curling his fingers around his aching manhood and thinking of anyone but Sam. But all he could see was his beautiful, efficient, brilliant assistant reaching up to straighten his damned tie.  One hand curling around the tie at his chest, the other sliding up to the knot, her brow furrowed in concentration, full bottom lip trapped in her teeth, big grey eyes shyly meeting his.

Fuck.

Vincent leaned back against the cold ceramic tiles of the shower, swearing a blue streak as he struggled to regain his breath.  He reached over and turned the shower off.  He stood there a few minutes more before stepping out onto the plush bath mat and grabbing a towel to dry off with.  He tossed it angrily toward the hamper as he stalked out of the bathroom.

He grabbed his bottle of bourbon and a tumbler.  The drink he poured he knocked back quickly.  "Dammit,” he muttered.  He poured another drink.  With a frown he filled the tumbler nearly to the brim.

Vincent knew bourbon was not the answer to his problem.  But he drank it anyway.  He chugged the generous glass and poured another to take to bed.  As he set the tumbler on the nightstand he glanced at the alarm clock.  3:42.  "Hell,“ he muttered.  His alarm was set for six, and he was wide awake.

And hungry. 

Most men would fall asleep after a damned good orgasm, whether resulting from sex or masturbation.  He never did.  Maybe it was years of cheating on Barb and not wanting to risk falling asleep and wind up getting busted, maybe he was wired different.  But he always wound up hungry.

He made his way back to the kitchen to scope out the contents of the refrigerator and grinned when he saw the takeout container from yesterday’s, no, the day before’s, lunch.  Sam had ordered extra Chinese when he’d commented about possibly working late to work on that damned park design he’d been struggling with.  "Still struggling with the damned thing, too,” he grabbed the container and popped it in the microwave. 

He scrubbed his right hand over his face as he waited for the food to heat up.  But he could not get the images from that dream out of his head.  Wide grey eyes behind those glasses she always wore.  Soft pink blush on her cheeks.  Plump kissable lips.  Silky dark hair he longed to tunnel his fingers into as he kissed her senseless or marked up her neck.  Elegant fingers he wanted to entwine with his as he made slow, sweet love to her.  Long legs he wanted wrapped around his hips as he drove into her over and over again.

The tattoo on her shoulder he’d caught a glimpse of months ago.  The memory of the sudden desire to touch, to taste washed over him.  He knew about the feather tattooed on the inside of her left wrist and the flower tattooed just behind her right ear on her neck.  She had told him it was simblemyne from Lord of the Rings when he had asked about it. 

“God dammit,” he sighed heavily.  He had never had a thing for tattoos on a woman before, hadn’t cared one way or another.  But on Sam… Jesus Christ did he want to trace his tongue and fingers over each one.  And he wondered if she had more.

He closed his eyes.  “Get a grip, Stevens,” he growled.  “It’s been a long week already, don’t make it any more difficult.”

He was a tired, cranky mess when he made it to the office a few hours later.  Sleep had evaded him when he’d crawled back into bed, even with a full belly and a fourth glass of bourbon.  How he wasn’t drunk before eight in the morning was a mystery to him, one he hoped to never have to repeat.

Thank god it was Friday.

Vincent damn near dropped his coffee when he opened the door to the office and spotted his assistant at the window with her back to the door wearing something she had never worn before.

She was dressed in a soft dove grey sweater dress, loose-fitting and hitting at mid-thigh, paired with black tights and knee-high grey boots.  Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the crown of her head, exposing that damned delectable simblemyne tattoo.  He was accustomed to leggings paired with tee-shirts and flowy cardigans or sweaters, or fitted slacks and button-down blouses.  But a dress?  When he’d overheard her tell Linda she hated dresses?

She turned to face him when he pushed the door shut.  “You’re…”  She trailed off when she took in the bags under his eyes.  “Vincent, are you okay?”

“My turn for a sleepless night,” he gave her a tired grin.  “Don’t even think about sending me home, I’ve got to knuckle down on that damned park design if I’m going to present it next week to the city.”

“The one you’ve been struggling with?”

He snorted as he made his way to his office.  “Landscaping is not my forte, Sam,” he admitted.  “I wanted to branch out and now I’m sorely regretting it.”

“Maybe I could help?”

He stopped in the doorway separating the offices.  Did I hear her correctly?

“Or not, don’t listen to me.”

He frowned when he caught the defeated tone in her voice.  That’s not the Sam Monroe I know, he thought.  “You want to do what I do,” he turned to face her.  “You want to become an architect.”

She nodded.  “It’s been a longtime dream of mine.”

“You know anything about landscaping?”

“A little,” she shrugged.  “I designed a butterfly garden for Mom’s office building and worked with a group on a class project to design a memorial park at the university I attended.”

Vincent walked over to stand beside her.  He took her shoulder in his free hand and turned her back to the window.  “Remember the city block you pointed out the day I interviewed you?”  He dropped his hand when he felt her shudder.  Don’t overstep your boundaries, Stevens.

She looked up at him.  “Yes.”

“This is no small butterfly garden or memorial park, Sam.  This is something for families to enjoy together.  Think Central Park, but smaller.”

“I’ve never been to New York,” she admitted quietly. 

He gave her an incredulous look.  “Next conference I go to in New York, you’re going with me.”

“That’s not necessary,” she shook her head, tearing her eyes from his.  “What would I do in New York while you’re attending the conference?”

“Suffer through the boring crap with me, tour the architectural wonders, stroll through Central Park, eat at a five star restaurant and take in a show on Broadway.”

“If the conferences are boring, why bother going?" 

"It’s good exposure,” Vincent shrugged.  “You learn about new things, new areas of study and certification, new technology for designing blueprints.”

“I don’t see you using computer programs to design buildings,” she wrinkled her nose. 

“There’s something magical about drawing up the designs by hand,” he tipped his head toward her.  “Computers take the fun out of it.  They make the mind weak by taking out all the guesswork and calculating everything for you.  Don’t ever rely on those programs, Sam.”

She nodded. 

“What’s my schedule like today?"  He asked as he headed to his office.

"Site visit after lunch, Jennings Street apartment complex.”

“You ever visit a project site before?”

“No, sir.”

His coffee cup thunked onto his desk.

Sir. 

She just had to call him “sir”.

He fumbled to keep the to-go cup from tipping over, inwardly cursing himself at the mental images popping into his head unbidden. 

“Vincent?”

“You want to come with me this afternoon?”

He screwed his eyes shut and grimaced at his ill-worded question and husky tone, glad he still had his back to the door. 

“I’m hardly dressed for a visit to a construction site.”

“What you’ve got on is fine, Monroe.”

More than fine, his brain added quite unhelpfully.  Sexy.  Gorgeous.  Breathtaking.

“It’s fodder for construction workers,” there was that hesitation in her voice, a tone of self-doubt he’d never heard before.

“You’ll be with me the entire time, Sam, if anyone says anything out of line or looks at you wrong I will take care of it,” he turned to face her.  “I won’t tolerate anyone crossing any lines with you.”

Her grey eyes widened behind her glasses.  “I could always run home and change during my lunch break…”

“Sweetheart, it won’t matter,” he shook his head.  “They’ll stare, they’ll say something, and I promise you they’ll get their asses handed to them.”

“I don’t want to cause any issues–”

He chuckled.  “Oh, you will,” he hung up his jacket and dropped into his chair behind the desk.  “Woman on a construction site usually does.  Don’t let them get to you.  Don’t pay them any mind, but if they say something put them in their place and tell me.”

Her brow furrowed.  “Okay, but I’d feel more comfortable if I can go home to change.”

He could not argue with her point.  “All right.  I’m going to start working on that damned design in about fifteen minutes if you want to help.”

Sam smiled, “Thank you, Vincent.”

“I should be thanking you, Sam,” he smiled back.

Vincent looked up from noting a playground on the paper in front of him.  “Koi pond?”

She nodded.  “Kids love watching koi fish,” she frowned thoughtfully.  “The nursing home where my grandpa was has a koi pond in front of the Hollywood wing.  When they remodeled the vestibule they put in a section of ‘glass’ floor to watch the fish swim under it,” she hooked her fingers in air quotes.  “It’s pretty neat, but they scare the hell out of me.  Kenna still teases me about refusing to use the main entrance.  Any time I went to see Grampa I had to be buzzed in from the patio.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling and to refrain from reassuring her those floors, if installed correctly, were perfectly safe.  “You mentioned designing a butterfly garden earlier.  What if we included one in the design?”  He studied the rough layout he’d mocked up before sliding his hand along the paper to tap a blank area.  “Maybe over here away from the playground.”

Sam caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled on it as she swiveled on the stool, angling her body toward him.  “I was thinking of a pavilion around here, for outdoor weddings,” she murmured before immediately flinching.  "If…  If that’s okay with you?“

He frowned at the way she flinched like she was expecting to be slapped.  "Jot it down,” he slowly reached across her to pick up her discarded pencil.  “Sam, your ideas for this park are brilliant.  I’ve been procrastinating on this for weeks, and here you’ve bounced several excellent suggestions off of me in…” he glanced at his watch as he straightened from his slouch over the drawing table, “three hours.  Let’s take a break for lunch and come back to this after the site visit.  How’s that sound?”

She looked up at him.  “You really think my ideas are brilliant?”

Oh damn.

That shy smile bowing her lips tugged at his heart. 

“No,” he shook his head.  “I know they’re brilliant."  He tapped the paper.  "Make note of the other ideas you mentioned off to the side until we can figure out where to work them in.  And for future reference, keep a notebook available to write down any ideas you might get at random times.  Trust me, I’ve been in the damned grocery store more than once when a thought would pop into my head.  You wouldn’t think a package of chicken breasts would inspire an arched entryway.”

Sam giggled at that as she jotted her ideas down.  “And just how did they inspire it?”

He chuckled.  “My kids were going to spend the weekend with me.  Figured I’d get the ingredients for a couple of their favorite meals.  Kinzie, my little girl, likes this chicken breast and asparagus dish.  I was standing there, trying to remember what else I needed when it just popped into my head how she’d told me one time she wished her school had arched doorways like a castle does, and I realized that would be better for the preschool design I’d bid on.”

Sam twisted the stool to face Vincent, her eyes wide behind her black-framed glasses.  “Please tell me you included a moat and a tower in the design.”

He laughed.  “No, I didn’t,  If Kinzie had her way it would’ve been an actual castle.”

“She sounds like she takes after you,” she tipped her head toward his Castle Grayskull blueprint on the wall. 

“God, I hope she doesn’t,” he sighed heavily. 

The last thing he needed was for either of his kids to follow in his damned footsteps.

He shook off that frightening thought before pasting on a tired smile for Sam’s benefit.  “I’ll grab us some lunch so you don’t have to rush.  Romeo’s sound good?”

“I’ve been wanting to try their cauliflower risotto and parmesan crusted chicken breast,” she nodded.  “Would it be too much to ask for cheesecake?  Their blackberry swirl cheesecake looks amazing.”

He smiled at the hopeful look in her grey eyes.  “Anything else?”

She shook her head.  “No, that’ll do me, Vin, thank you.”

His heart stuttered in his chest at that shortened version of his name.  He watched her walk out of his office.

I’m in trouble. 

[tabloidtoc]

In Touch, August 26

Cover: Why Miley Cyrus left Liam Hemsworth for a woman 

Page 1: Contents 

Page 2: Who Wore It Better? Drew Barrymore vs. Uzo Aduba, Danielle Campbell vs. Candace Cameron Bure, Juliette Binoche vs. Elisabeth Moss 

Page 4: Backlash of the Week -- Heidi Klum’s ninth wedding 

Page 5: Rental of the Week -- become Prince William and Kate Middleton’s neighbor in Norfolk, Makeover of the Week -- Lucy Liu debuts a new bob, Halle Berry’s kids find out she’s famous, Gwyneth Paltrow finally moving in with husband Brad Falchuk, the bag Kim Kardashian carries around to run errands cost $35,000 

Page 6: Crib of the Week -- Matthew Perry’s castle in the sky, Tori Spelling wants to join RHOBH 

Page 8: Hollywood’s hottest actresses tell all -- Drew Barrymore, Cameron Diaz, Jennifer Aniston, Reese Witherspoon, Jennifer Garner, Jessica Alba, Egos of the Week -- Fast & Furious stars keep a punch tally so they don’t look like losers 

Page 9: Julianne Hough’s husband sucks her toes, Man Candy of the Week -- Radamel Falcao, Winner of the Week -- Ryan Seacrest finalizing a massive deal with Disney to remain on American Idol and Live with Kelly and Ryan, Loser of the Week -- Shep Rose is slammed after mocking a woman collecting cans

Page 10: Up Close -- Kate Middleton, Prince George 

Page 11: Duchess Kate and Princess Charlotte, Prince William and Princess Kate

Page 16: Camera Ready -- Cole Sprouse, Bebe Rexha, Shannen Doherty and Brian Austin Green 

Page 17: Hannah Brown and Kathryn Newton, Katie Holmes 

Page 18: Joe Jonas, Cara Delevingne, Orlando Bloom on a motorcycle with dog Mighty 

Page 20: Camila Cabello 

Page 21: Tiffany Haddish and Elisabeth Moss and Melissa McCarthy, Sienna Miller 

Page 22: Teen Choice Awards -- Taylor Swift, Nikki Bella and Artem Chigvintsev and Brie Bella, Ken Jeong, Gabrielle Union 

Page 24: Kate Hudson and daughter Rani, Queer Eye’s Jonathan Van Ness and Tan France 

Page 25: Matt Damon and wife Luciana and daughter Gia, Kourtney Kardashian and son Reign 

Page 26: Kylie Jenner and daughter Stormi, Chris Pratt and Rob Lowe, Anne Hathaway 

Page 28: Cover Story -- Miley Cyrus breaks Liam Hemsworth’s heart -- she ends her marriage to Liam after falling in love with Kaitlynn Carter 

Page 30: Hannah Brown attacks Tyler Cameron after his romance with Gigi Hadid heats up 

Page 34: Stars Ditch the Diets -- Beyonce, Katy Perry 

Page 35: Lena Dunham, Miranda Lambert 

Page 36: True Crime -- Was Marilyn Monroe’s death murder? 

Page 38: Stephen Dorff bullies his ex 

Page 39: Flip It Like Disick flops, fears for skinny Anna Faris, Star Sightings -- Zedd, Whitney Port, Tyler Henry and Camille Kostek, Carson Kressley, blind item 

Page 40: Britney Spears owns a mansion but boyfriend Sam Asghari doesn’t live with her -- he rents a small apartment, Joshua Jackson getting married to Jodie Turner-Smith 

Page 44: Interview -- Ian Ziering

Page 46: Style -- workout wear -- Vanessa Hudgens 

Page 50: Beauty -- wavy hair -- Elle Fanning, Margot Robbie 

Page 51: Mandy Moore 

Page 52: Did I Really Do That? Laverne Cox, Margot Robbie 

Page 53: Kristin Chenoweth, Jada Pinkett Smith 

Page 54: Animal Overload -- My dog looks like John Krasinski 

Page 56: Entertainment

Page 58: My Night at Home -- Curtis Stone, Guess Whose Mohawk -- Keanu Reeves, Travis Barker, David Beckham, Adam Levine, Jared Leto, Ryan Phillippe 

Page 60: Double Take -- Tori Spelling and Jennie Garth 

Page 62: Horoscope -- Leo Andrew Garfield 

Page 64: Last Laughs 

[provocativescribe]

John’s Movie List

This is a re-post of an original post from XXXFamilyFun (aka John Valjean) with flagged images removed.

One of the most common messages I receive is about good incest movies. I wrote a post that was fairly popular, which I will link to at the bottom of this post. But first, let’s revisit my criteria for a good incest scene in a movie:

Criteria #1: The guys should be good looking and they should look the part. There’s a scene in Falcon’s “The Dark Side” (2002) where Derek Cameron and Race Jensen play son and father, respectively, but Derek Cameron (who is definitely hot), looks too old to play the part of the son. Just by a few years.

Criteria #2: The actors need to play the part. Even if they only do it a few times, I need to hear a “fuck me Dad” or “take that dick, son” or else it just plays like any scene from any other movie.

Criteria #3: Set the scene up a little bit. I want to know why the father and son, brother and brother, or cousin and cousin are about to do some dirty business with each other. If the scene starts and we, as viewers, just learn that the guys having sex are family members, then it also just feels like a scene from any other movie.

Criteria #4: As you will see, it should probably be directed by Chi Chi LaRue.

Okay, so you know what I like, and that’s what you’ll find in most of the following movies (which are listed in no particular order):

“Brother to Brother” (All Worlds, 1996) Okay, Chi Chi LaRue’s “Brother to Brother” has a brother/brother scene that I have never made my way through. The guys just do not look like brothers and I don’t find it very hot. So why is it even on the list? Well, there is a scene where the brothers’ uncle (played by Drew Andrews) spies on the lads while they sleep in their tightie-whities. He’s so turned on by it that he pulls his nice long dick out and jacks off to the boys sleeping. Andrews plays the part perfectly, looking around nervously to make sure he doesn’t get caught and then wondering what to do with the cum he decided to spill in his hand. Eat it, of course! He gobbles it down with relish and it’s impossible not to cum to this incredibly hot scene! Just because it’s incest-lite doesn’t make it any less effective! (Director: Chi Chi LaRue)

“Father Figure” (All Worlds, 1999) I remember reading a review of this movie and the feeling bad about myself afterward. The writer said that the dialogue in the scene where the father (Sam Crockett) fucks the daylights out of his son (Stoney) left him squeamish. This was my favorite part. I thought, “Am I some sort of degenerate?” I eventually decided I wasn’t. In fact, I love when the characters embrace their parts and, holy fuck, does Crockett embrace his role as the father who pops his son’s young cherry! “Back into it, Boy!” he commands as he fucks his son senseless. If ever there was a go-to incest scene, this is the one for me. I hate that the production values are so cheap, but Crockett makes this a must-see scene for anyone who enjoys incest-themed porn. (Directors: Peter and Casey O’Brian)

“Fox’s Lair” (Studio 2000, 1995) Some of the sex in the final scene, where three muscle-bound brothers fuck each other, can be a bit drab, but the build-up to it is hot as hell. Steve Fox, Ty Fox, and Ryan Fox (they used to give the actors the same last names to continue the brotherly illusion) play three brothers exploring their sexuality are varying levels before the three of them flip-flop in the final scene. It’s definitely worth a watch because too many incest movies rely on pairings as opposed to multiple family members jumping in the sack! (Director: John Trennel)

“Family Secrets” (Jocks, 1996) I was torn on adding this movie to the list because it’s even more incest-lite than “Brother to Brother.” This one also features Crockett who goes to visit his cousin Jake Taylor (one of my all-time favorite pornstars). During the visit, the two men don’t come out to each other. That is until Taylor brings home some slutty pals and a hot forgy ensues. Crockett sucks off Taylor and the two make out, and that’s about it. I hope you can find the scene online and compare it to Crockett’s scene in Father Figure. The guy really gets into the part and adds a layer of filthiness that so many actors don’t bother to do when they’re in niche movies like this. (Director: Chi Chi LaRue)

“Here Cums the Bridegroom” (Private Man, 2007) If you follow my blog, then you have probably guessed that I am into straight guys who fall into gay sex (and fucking love it). If that’s also your bag, I think this movie will hold a special place in your heart. On the wedding day of the very hot groom (Glenn Santoro), he can’t help but fuck and get fucked by the members of his wedding party, his father-in-law, and his brothers-in-law. This video is hot as fuck. And it ends with an orgy of most of the participants from all of the previous scenes. It’s on the list because power-top brother (Lucio Maverick) fucks his power-bottom brother (Mario McCabe) enthusiastically while Santoro fucks another guy to their side! (Director: Tom Bradford)

“Ivy Blues” (Catalina Video, 1985) This one goes way back to the 80s, but the trip is worth it. Ricky Turner is home from college and ready to have some fun with whoever is closest. In this case, it’s his limo driver. When his brother (Michael Mann) comes home and sees what his brother is up to, he’s not at all disturbed. In fact, he decides to join the two and fucks his brother in the hot final scene! Mann, who went by a number of names back in the day, was one of the hotter performers at the time, so it was wonderful to see him topping his slutty little brother. (Director: William Higgins)

“Phoenix Rising” (Falcon Studios, 1999) I’d say this movie is a little more than incest-lite, but not much. Still, it’s worth a watch to see yummy Daddy Jason Branch fuck his rambunctious nephew (Tristan Paris) with the help of three domineering African-American studs. There’s some filthy dirty-talk between the uncle and nephew during their brief fuck scene, but it’s goddamn hot. It ends with Uncle Jason blasting a thick ball-busting hot load all over his dirty nephew’s young face! (Director: Chi Chi LaRue)

  “Roll in the Hay” (Jocks, 1994) Mark West and his sons entertain a group of city slickers. In the third scene, West and his son (Christian Fox) come upon ripped David Logan jacking off on their property. Not phased in the least, a threesome ensues which finds son going down on father and father going down on son. West was probably cast as the father because he had two modest crows feet, but that’s fine with me because he’s incredibly sexy. I get sent over the edge hearing him command, “Suck your daddy’s dick!” I’d have loved to see these two fuck because Fox was an enthusiastic bottom, but alas it was not meant to be. (Director: Chi Chi LaRue)

“Brothers and Other Fantasies” (All Worlds, 1999) Easily one of my all time favorite incest scenes. I’m not totally into twinks, but young Matt Bandero legitimately looks like Vince Bandero’s kid brother. Matt spies on Vince jacking off and a hot incestuous scene plays out where Matt comes in and sucks his big brother off as Vince stays wholly in character. “Have you been watching me fuck my girlfriend, Matt?” as the younger brother swallows Vince’s long cock. Look. This. Clip. Up. If you’re into incest, they do not get much better than this. Vince fucks his little brother wildly, even after he admits that Vince is too big for him to take. (Director Chi Chi LaRue).

“Spring Break” (Falcon Studios, 1988) Uncle Chad Douglas is sure his nephew, Cory Monroe, is down to fuck and wastes no time telling the boy what he wants in this Falcon 80s classic. Douglas knows exactly what he wants and he’s going to take it, blood relation or not! This scene is so hot because Douglas and Monroe are of a pair of hot performers who know how to put on a hell of a fiery performance. (Director: Matt Sterling)

“Bad Boys Get Spanked” (Channel 1 Releasing, 2007) This video has what is one of my favorite incest scenes from the last few years. I’m not sure how this didn’t make it on my initial list. A father (Brock Armstrong) has been summoned to his son’s (Tristan Sterling) school for a disciplinary meeting with a member of the faculty (Drake Jaden). Jaden suggests spanking as a method to punish the boy, who has been acting out on campus. Armstrong is immediately turned on and a hot, hot, hot threeway ensues in which all of the cast stay in character. Listening to Armstrong eat out his boy while his teacher watches will drive you wild, as will everything that comes after! (Director, Chi Chi LaRue)

“Bone Island” (Kristen Bjorn Video, 2004) Kristen Bjorn incorporated a fair amount of incest in his videos, with varying results. Sometimes the brothers/cousins don’t seem to act like they were related or the scene might just be the dud of the video. While the brothers (Diego Pastores and Guillermo Pastores) in this scene don’t fuck, they kiss and suck with passion. Diego and Guillermo are trespassing on the porch of Miguel Peron, who is about to call the police on the boys. When they beg him not to, he suggests the brothers suck him off. This scene is key to the video because the brothers have trepidation about what is about to unfold. Of course, they go for it and the scene is very hot. If you know Bjorn’s work (and I really hope you do!), you’re familiar with how well he choreographs his scenes and the plentiful and big cum shots he incorporates. Good luck making it through this scene without blowing a load of your own! (Director: Kristen Bjorn)

“Billy’s Tale” (Falcon Studios, 1993) This one is a Cinderella story in which you’re totally chill with how the step-siblings treat their put-upon brother. Billy (Chet Roberts) is forced to wait on his muscle-bound step-brothers (Trent Reed, Erik Houston, and Glenn McAllister), who apparently lie around and eat all day (though they have mysteriously fine bodies). When the brothers so chose, Roberts becomes their sexual plaything, but the scene moves past pseudo-incest as Houston goes down on McAllister’s fat dick and eventually eases his ass down on the beast. In the third scene, Jake Andrews shares the brothers, who are not shy about touching one another in front of strangers! (Director: Steven Scarborough)

“Grunts: Brothers in Arms” (Raging Stallion Studios, 2008) In this military fantasy about a “Gay Bomb” that turns straight men into oversexed gay animals is hot as hell, but I would have loved for the brothers in the film (Steve Cruz and Orlando Toro) to act a lot more like brothers! Make no mistake, their scene is hot! They fuck and suck passionately and Cruz is a very vocal bottom. However, it would have been so much hotter if Cruz had thrown in a couple of “fuck me, bro” or something to take the scene up a notch! The filmmakers get extra points for making sure Toro and Cruz look like twin brothers! (Directors: Chris Ward and Ben Leon)

“Joe Gage Sex Files 11: Doctors and Dads #2” (Dragon Media, 2012) Okay, how can you take a list like this without including Joe Gage, who, like LaRue, clearly has a knack for incest. Jake Steel is the father and Tyler Sweet is the son, in this scene that builds in a way that only Gage has mastered. Tyler is at the doctor after he hurts his nuts. His father, the campus coach, comes in to check in on his boy, who is wearing a hospital gown. Steel starts fondling his son slowly and the two share a number of intense glances and a few brief exchanges before Sweet is kneeling in front of his father doing what he does best. Steel and Sweet are another pair of strong performers who gloriously maintain the father/son illusion throughout the scene. (Director: Joe Gage)

“Raw” (All Worlds Video, 2004) The yummy Kent Larson is anxious Groom and Kyle Lewis is his sexy brother. You may also remember incredibly chiseled Lewis as the older brother in 2005’s “Little Brother’s Big Secret”. The scene in that film is hotter, but watching Lewis attempt to calm his brother’s nerves by fucking him shortly before he’s supposed to walk down the aisle is something to behold. Add to that, the bride’s hot brother (Jonathan West) joins in on the action halfway through the scene. (Director: Doug Jeffries)

“Fratrimony” (All Worlds Video, 1990) Jerry Douglas incorporated incest into many of his films, but none more so as this video featuring Tim Lowe and Butch Taylor as brothers who have the house to themselves for the weekend and begin to explore their sexuality in unexpected ways. The video is somewhat unique because it only features Lowe and Taylor. There are a few problems though. Taylor seems way too old to play a guy who’s fresh out of college and Lowe makes a shit-ton of weird faces when he cums and when he’s getting fucked. Still, the scenario is still hot and I usually don’t make it past the intial scene, which finds Lowe and Taylor jacking off together in bed. The two eventually jack each other off to completion. (Director: Jerry Douglas)

Just look at the gaze of pure lust Taylor gives Lowe. Douglas knew how to direct his actors.

I hope you enjoyed this new list of incest-themed videos! Sorry, I don’t have links to the movies! These are all from my private collection. The following is the link to the previous post:

Click here to find John Valjean’s long-form stories now exclusively at Smashwords!

[brattywriters-anonymous]

A Rose In Harlem

OC x Erik Story

Based on Teyana Taylor’s VII & KTSE

Warnings: Language

@chaneajoyyy

Chapter IX: Rize

February 6, 2014

22 HOURS BEFORE SHOWTIME.REHEARSAL, NINE PM.

"Ladies, Gents! Find Seats! Sit in them!" All twenty-four models followed Yani's request. We just wrapped our rehearsal, everyone did phenomenal. I can only pray that we get it like this at 583 Park Ave. Yani and I have been thee dynamic duo for the past seventy-two hours. I've been steaming outfits, she's been bagging accessories. I've been designing roll-away walls, she's been contacting every contractor in her contacts to design the black and gold glitter floors.

Honestly, in the past month, Yani and I have been on our hustle. I finished my last shoot and have been on go since. Erik and I have basically been like two ships passing in the night. I usually would leave before him, and come home after he arrived. We never talked about my father's birthday, our kiss..well..kisses. None of it. I've been too busy. Yasin and I have been texting here and there, but I haven't seen him either. He's been understanding about it though. The only person I've been spending my time with is Yani.

We've collectively gotten maybe eight hours of sleep in three days. So now, we're just exhausted and over it. We're trying to get this rehearsal over and done with. The theater's silence is my queue to step on the stage, I do so, scanning my models faces. They're looking like kids on Christmas Eve. So excited for what the next day has to bring. Their faces make me grateful, my smile spreads and everyone breaks out in applause. I decipher a few, "Yeah Syd!" "You did it girl!" and "Woos" in the crowd, I yield my hands up and down, they lower their yells. "Hey everybody, We're down to the wire here. We're less than a day away. We've been working our asses off for a month and a half. I couldn't have ever gotten this done without any of you. I'm excited for everyone to see our hard work. I'm even more excited for you to see your hard work pay off."

I point to Iyo in the control center, He dims the lights and lower the projector screen. "I now present to you.. UPTXWN." Applause rings out as the projector displays a drone clip of High Bridge among the sunrise and Syd's voiceover, "Uptown, Home of the greats. From The Bronx, to Harlem. The place I know, the place I love." The six models she started with appear on the screen, daringly sitting on the railing, laughing with one another in their high end garments. "Our hustles.. It always had this special..thing about it. We always went a little harder. Thought a little smarter. Emerged to the top a bit faster." Photos of me and all of Uptown's finest begins scrolling through from right to left. From a photo of me and Dapper Dan when I was fresh out of college. Diddy and I when I was an intern at Chanel. With Kerry Washington a bit after Save the Last Dance came out when I was twelve. Sistah Souljah, Kid Capri, Bianca (aka Young B), Cam'ron, Juelz, and Jim Jones back when Rock-a-fella were still together, Kalis, and finally, A$AP Mob & me when they were fresh in the game back in 2011.

"And when we're on top, we set trends. We define eras. Their stamps will forever be evident in our culture. Here's mine. Here's UPTXWN." All of the photos scroll backwards and the screen goes black for a few seconds. Images of the Big L tribute wall outside of the Harlem Up Deli Market, in black and white appear, then the same original six models; Sam, Levi, Von, Jade, Deanna, and Cass kneeling at different levels, crowded around the wall. Making sure not to block his face or name. Then Pretty Flako instrumental bangs through the theater's speakers. The TV flake transition changes to the Bailey house shoot. The drone shot pans around the corner of the property, all twenty four models posing looking like royalty draped in over $80,000 worth of clothes collectively.  The visual pans over to a slowed down visual of Nina flashing her bottom grill, her thick frame vibing out to the up tempo beat. Then to Xierra kneeling beside her, giving face in her side profile. The screen shortly displays a wide pan of the property and models again, then switches to Levi. Iyo's suggested scene of displaying the details of his tattoos on his shirtless body-- while simultaneously showing the VVS necklace, the embroidery on the custom one of a kind jean jacket; came out perfectly.

The photos of each model in each of their looks scroll through at the right speed so each detail is fully displayed. Every model stands up, showing off as their photos went across the screen. As Gina's photoset emerges, I turn to the screen so I can roll my eyes. I instantly become reminded of how flirty she was with Erik before Yani had to snatch her up to take these.  Yani stands beside me, peeping the entire scene, "Girl, suck it up. She in it now. Let's get it over with." I shake it off, turning back to the models.  

The park Marcus Garvey Amphitheater scene pops up, it was a gloomy overcast. Which was perfect for the theme. As the looping instrumental repeats, each model was either sitting at the top of the folding seats, or crouched on the seat of the folding seats. The collective total of every look? $110,878. I'm lucky I got such great relationships with these clients and these models didn't fuck up any of they shit. The first visual was Von, on the center stage. His long hair hanging over his entire face. He rocked this black long open hooded jacket, shirtless. Displaying his massive musical themed chest piece. It gave me a grim reaper vibe that I was definitely looking for. The jacket was a piece I asked Chris Brown's people to create for their Black Pyramid line. They fucked with the vision and agreed to do it. Von flipped the bottom of the jacket back with force, the rest of the models appeared on stage, smoke filled the stage floor as the all black visual came to life. Gina and Cass rocked matching contrast dresses, Cass was the only model not in black that day. I put her in a white intricate lace Erdem Dress. Gina wore the matching Black dress.

Jade and Deanna were back to back. Jade was wearing a black deep v neck, with a leather ribbed comme des garcons jacket. With a cascading gold necklace reaching her stomach. Accompanied with black and gold aviator Louis Vuitton shades,  Black ripped Levis I thrifted on the East side, and Jefferey Campbell's Legion booties. Deanna was wearing my favorite outfit of that day. A black long sleeved Oscar De La Renta ruffled shirt with cut out shoulders, a Burberry black ruffled skirt, and black Averil Doc Martin boots. Her bamboos and three finger ring spelling out her name put a street edge on her look that was near and dear to my Harlem bred heart. GG beat every woman's face and gave them the same cohesive smokey eye with the black, In The Spirit MAC lipstick. The only difference makeup wise was Cass' white undereye liner.

Once again the photos of every model starts cascading slideshow style. Johan was my second favorite look for that shoot, He rocked a black high low long sleeved Alexander Wang shirt, black distressed Givenchy jeans, and his personal black on black Ralph Lauren Hi Boots. I was going to put him in some other shoes, but I saw the ones he had on and they looked way better with the fit. We accompanied that look with a black Cuban link necklace, the matching bracelet, and Dolce & Gabana retro flip up  round glasses.

Everyone's rave reactions trigger my tears of joy, it's all of our first times seeing the visual's final product and I couldn't be any more proud. This has really been my baby. I've nurtured it, I've put in the work for it. This moment was like its graduation. Everyone looks at me, "Awwwwww!" Yani gives me a big hug, "I'm proud of you, kid." I squeeze her, "I'm proud of us, kid." I push out a laugh.

The final shoot displayed the brownstones on Mount Morris Park, the street right outside of Marcus Garvey Park. Where my parents' old brownstone was. I only needed my original six for this one, since all twenty-four wouldn't fit on the stoop. That day, it was sunny. Not one cloud in sight. Perfect lighting for the intimate shoot. The theme was spring, specifically, pastel colors.

I dressed Jade in a pastel yellow Ted Baker maxi dress, I accessorized her outfit with vintage canary yellow teardrop earrings with a matching tennis bracelet. She wore some nude Christian Louboutin spiked peep toed heels. She stands up when she finds her face and yells while twerking, "Long Hair! Red Bottoms! Long Hair! Red Bottoms!" Everyone, including me burst out in laughter. She kept saying it so much during the shoot, I let her keep them. Paid the $1,500 tab too. Deanna was draped in a Monroe and Main white two piece suit with black accents on the collar and cuffs. We accompanied that with my personal pearls I got from my mom before she passed, some white Manolo Blahnic pumps, and some VVS diamond earrings while her hair popped in the sunlight. She wore her low cut with a rose gold tint. I put Cass in a pair of nude Emilio Pucci wide legged trousers, a White Alexander McQueen peplum top, and a matching nude blazer was draping over her shoulders. Her accessories was a silver double C Chanel choker, charm rings from Tiffany Co., and a vintage Chanel crossbody, gifted from Karl Lagerfeld himself. He said I needed something old for my collection.

The guys were matching my girls' fly. Von parallels Deanna with a Tom Ford cotton two piece suit,  I laced him with some white Versace loafers with the gold Medusa emblem on the center, with the Cuban link chain Johan wore at the Marcus Garvey shoot, and golden Panthere De Cartier  rounded sunglasses. Levi's parallel was for Jade's look. He wore a pastel yellow Calvin Klein. Accompanied with a large size canary ring on his index finger, and the Burberry vintage loafers. Sam paralleled Cass, in a nude ASOS suit with the matching vest. I kept it simple and just accessorized it with my dad's gold pocket watch and black Stacy Adams dress shoes.

I thought the presentation was over, but then the screen transitioned to me working behind the scenes. Me pointing and directing at the Bailey house, with the wind blowing like crazy, me filming on Highbridge at the crack of dawn, Iyo even snuck some footage of the meeting we had in Morningside Park. It looks like Yani snuck some footage of me putting the image board for the fashion show stage together as well. I'm just admiring the scene of watching the hard nights and amazing days I shared with an incredible team. The last shot was me sitting on my old stoop. I was just reminiscing, thinking of how my mom, dad, and I would eat ice cream in the spring in the same spot. I looked up, as I normally do when thinking of them, put my hands together and mumbled, 'allah , shkraan lak.' The camera was too far to catch my phrase. Afterward I bowed between my legs so I could have my emotional moment to myself.

Everyone hops on the stage to crowd around me and initiated a group hug. Once everyone slightly disbursed, I see Gina still sitting in the audience with Erik, I guess he just got here. I hear the doors open again and see Yasin, smiling at me.

--

By half past 10, everyone had gone home except for Yani, Nina, Gina, Erik, and Yasin. Nina is waiting on Rashad to pick her up, and I guess Gina is looking to Erik to take her home. She's literally been all up under him since his arrival.

"Tomorrow's gonna go great, babe. You got a great team behind you, you've been super focused. It can't go any other way." Yasin lands a kiss on my temple as I blush at his encouragement. I blink in Erik's direction, he's giving the same look he gave us at Rashad's party. He then grips Gina, pulling her closer to him, "Yeah. You got it Syd. We gon head out. See ya later." with that, Erik and Gina strut to the exit. Nina's phone dings, "Oh, bae is here! See ya tomorrow Syd! We gon kill it, boo!" She hugs me and Yani then jogs out the double doors, "Nice seeing you again Yasin!" he nods, "You too!"

--

"So tell me something about you, Sin! I've only talked about me when I see you. What was lil Yasin like?" We are strolling down Saint Nick Avenue after getting grilled jerk chicken from King Barka. We decide to sit on a park bench right outside Saint Nick Park to chat since I wasn't quite ready to go home. "Well, I was born and raised in Brooklyn. Flatbush. My moms is from Brooklyn as well. My dad's side of the family is from Harlem, the eastside, but they love uptown just as much." I grin as he continues, "I was a bad ass kid growing up. Always fighting, getting into trouble at school, I even got expelled in middle school." "Well damn! How did you go from that to--" I wave my hands around his silhouette, "This?" He takes a bite out of his chicken and flashes a sexy smile, "My mom sent me to live with my Uncle. The one that retired and gave me the maintenance business."

"Ahhhh, I see. He whipped you into shape?" He snorts, "Oh, he whipped me alright. A lot. He taught me what it is to be a man." "Where was your father?" He continues eating, pausing his story for a spell, "Uh.. He was in prison. He pushed weight for about ten years, he got caught up. He didn't snitch, so he got twenty. He got out after eight years for good behavior." "How's your relationship with him now?" He shugs, "We're cool. We had a little spat when he first got out. I had to be the man of the house for a while for my moms and sisters. I resented him for it." I take a hold of his free hand, "We patched things up recently." "So him and your mom still married?" He nods, "Yeah. Moms held him down. That lady.. She deserves the world." He finishes his dish as he glows at the mention of his mother.

"She had to get two jobs before I turned sixteen and worked with my Uncle. She held down our household for three years, alone, before I was able to step in and help her. After that, she went back to school. She finished the year before my pops got out, now she's a nurse. Doing what she loves to do." "That's great. That's what life is about, doing what you love." "Definitely." He throws away our empty plates and we keep walking down the avenue, "So what do you love to do Yasin?" "I love music." I stop in my tracks.

"Let me guess, you rap?" he sucks his teeth, "Nah, girl. I play instruments. Three; Acoustic guitar, piano, and snare drum." "Ah, okay! When did you discover your talent?" "I was... ten, I think?" "You make songs?" He pulls a slick move behind me, grabbing me by my waist. I roll my eyes as we continue to walk, "I haven't made a song in five years." "Why not?" I feel him shrug behind me, "I've been busy." I turn around to grab his hands, "You're never too busy to do what you love." He smiles at me, I sense the same glow about him that he had when he spoke of his mom. "Especially when it makes you this happy...just talking about it." Yasin closes the gap between us, "Maybe, you're right. Look at you. Doing what you love. You're inspiring Syeda. Beautiful, too." He strokes my left cheek with his palm. I freeze, much like I did a couple weeks back in my apartment with Erik.

Speaking of Erik, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do about what happened since my dad's birthday. I guess Erik knows what he wants, and that's Gina. So why am I freezing? What's stopping me? All of a sudden my inner thoughts are silenced when Yasin seals our distance, gently kissing me. My knees buckle and he hoists me up by my butt, cuffing the bottom of my cheeks. That makes me even weaker, he breaks off from me, "Damn girl. You good?" My eyes flutter as I respond, "Yeah. Yeah. I'm good." I pull him by his shirt to kiss him again.

--