#I've read fics of America snapping at him

[doueverwonder]

y'know as much as I love reading about Alfred snapping at Admiral Lord Father I want Matthieu to, just once. I want him to rip William a brand new one because he did something stupid, and he put someone in danger (bonus points: the someone in danger wasn't Oz or Zee); and I want everyone to be surprised by it that lil ol' Mattie who usually just sits in the corner and broods when mad at his dad just Snaps. I want him to tell William to fuck off the face of the planet and then side eye him for 2 weeks to 6 months. I need it.

[twistedinthreads]

Lost In The Labyrinth

Part 1.

You came to Oxford to get away from America; from your mother's fame and the ghosts of your past. You get more than you bargained for when you meet Felix.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: sexual content (not explicit but it's there so 18+ MINORS DNI), I used some descriptors for reader such as scars, birthmarks, imperfections, but I made her as inclusive as possible, reader is American, she's also a nepo baby but isn't using her nepotism in any real way. Bi!reader and Felix. fic title inspired by the taylor swift song, of course (and I am terrible at titles!)

Playlist (a work in progress!)

A/N: I am so insecure about this reading back over it omgggg but I'm posting it anyway! Hi friends. I've been working on this for so long, and I'm recovering from my surgery so I figured there's no time like the present. Here we are. I am obsessed with this movie and this man! I promise this fic is gonna get more interesting, but we've got this for now. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist, and feel free to send me asks if you want to talk about reader and her lore, because she is very special to me and I adore her already!!!

Your eyes droop as you hum along to the nameless blonde that stands in front of you, her sparkly pink cocktail dress catching the light and making her glow. She’s going on and on about how Everlasting Eve is her favorite movie of all time, and how your mother is “the greatest actress of our time!” You want to vomit. It’s not like this doesn’t happen, it’s practically a daily occurrence at this point, but you’d much prefer it if people stopped giving so much of a shit. If they did, you wouldn’t be stood with a bottle blonde from Bristol talking your ear off. You’d just stepped out to get some air, for Christ’s sake. 

“You’re from the States, right?” You nod, sipping at your cocktail and bouncing from one foot to the other to conserve some warmth in your legs. She asks it as if she hasn’t been talking your ear off and didn’t notice your accent, not as thick as it used to be when you’d lived in New York full time, but still foreign here. The music is less obnoxious out here, bass easing on your chest. It’s cooler, too, the fall night air brushing against your neck like a lover. “That’s brilliant! I went with my parents once, when I was a kid. We went to Disney World.” 

You smile and nod, muttering out a “cool” as you sip at your drink, cringing at its strength. 

“Is that far from where you live?” She asks, and you wonder how she got into this fucking school. Probably a legacy, with more money than she knows what to do with.

“Uh,” you suppress a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, like… incredibly South of New York.” 

“I’ve always wanted to go to New York,” she continues to babble. “My parents go on business trips there, but they’ve never taken me. I want to see where Little Angels was filmed! Uh, Lincoln Square Park?”

“Washington Square Park,” you correct her. 

“Yeah!” She snaps her fingers and points. “That’s it! When your mom’s character is waiting there for Hugh Grant’s character, and then they walk off into the sunset together? Absolutely the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen!”

You stare off into the distance vacantly, the night sky painted with different navy hues and dotted with the brushstrokes of stars. 

Suddenly, you feel a warm arm around your waist, hot breath on your cheek. “There you are!” You’d know that voice anywhere. The figure kisses you on the cheek and it takes everything in you not to start grinning from ear to ear. You turn, meeting his lips, and he plays along like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I’m gonna head home, wanna come with?”

You nod, thanking him with your eyes. He winks gently at you and grabs your hand. “Nice talking to you…” you’ve already forgotten her name. Her tone has completely shifted, body stiff as her eyes mull over you and the man that holds your hand with a vice grip. 

��Sandra.” It’s cold, but you keep your own voice chipper. 

“Sandra! Nice to meet you,” she’s in your college, so you’ll have to be cordial. “See you around?”

She just nods and lights a cigarette. 

As you walk away, one of Felix’s hands around your waist and the other holding your own, you look up at him. “Thank you so much. Holy shit. I was about to lose it.”

He lets out a low, intoxicated chuckle. “It’s what I’m here for, darling.” Uses his fingers on your chin, tugging lightly to kiss you hard on the mouth. He pulls away and you chase his lips, planting one more kiss on his mouth, this time softer. 

“Your room or mine?” You ask, to be met with a smirk as he grabs your hand and leads you across campus. It’s a path you could walk with your eyes closed, the muscle memory of so many nights embedded into your body by now. 

His room is all red carpet and wood paneling, empty takeout containers and beer cans and ashtrays strewn about. His bed is unmade and his textbooks are all over his floor, but it hardly matters when he’s kissing you like you’re the only person in the fucking universe. 

Within minutes, you settle back into a familiar routine. Clothes shed, completely bare to one another as you grind and writhe on top of him, hands on his toned chest. He’s gorgeous with his mouth open in ecstasy, labored breaths escaping it, eyes closed and clenched, hands rested on your waist as you move above him, a renaissance painting. You’re moaning too, tempering your whines so that the sounds don’t travel. The moon paints the room in subtle, cool light and the pleasure makes sweat bead on your brows.

“Missed you,” he manages between moans, voice heavy and breathy. “Missed this.” 

“It’s been like, two days,” you let out a chuckle, and it fades into a moan as you grind your hips again, trying not to scratch his chest with your manicured nails, though you doubt he'd mind too much.

“And that’s too long,” he replies, and you lean down and kiss him, open mouthed and messy and euphoric. 

When it’s all said and done, you lay naked beside him while he smokes a cigarette, arm laced around your bare shoulder, your head rested on his. It’s bliss, something you’ve begun to ache for all the time. “Really, thank you. That girl was driving me fucking insane.”

“That scene where your mom’s character and Hugh Grant ride off into the sunset together? Immaculate.” He mocks the girl, a surprisingly good impersonation, and you both belly laugh. You wipe away bits of red lipstick from his mouth and grin delicately at him. You know you’re not the only girl he’s seeing, not even the only girl he’s fucking, and it wedges something vile and dangerous in your heart. The words linger on your tongue. You want to ask, want to know, and if you sound desperate? Well, so be it. 

“What is this?” You wrench the words out quickly, looking at your hands. 

“What do you mean?” He takes a long drag of the cigarette, letting the smell perforate the air in the room, turning it cloudy in its wake. 

“Us,” you murmur, and he runs a hand through your hair. “Like… I know you’re fucking other people, Felix. And that’s fine but… I just want to be clear on what this.” 

He looks at you perplexed, smashing the cigarette in the ash tray and turning on his side toward you. You mirror his motions, so the two of you are laying in bed, you practically on top of him due to its size, your hands under your cheek. “I’m fucking other girls? News to me.” 

“I see the way you look at them,” you murmur. “India. Annabel. That guy you study with sometimes… Ryan?”

“I’m not fucking anyone else,” he mutters, seeming almost offended at the notion. He scoffs before his next words. “I practically haven’t even looked at anyone else.”

“Fe-“ he cuts you off, a hand brushing over your cheek, holding it delicately. 

“No,” he starts. “I know I have a reputation or whatever,” he waves his free hand around. “But I genuinely haven’t been seeing anyone else since we started… this.” He gestures between the two of you, and you can sense that he's lying, but it hardly matters. 

You’re almost self-conscious as his eyes rake over your body; so self aware of every little imperfection, every feature. The birthmark on your hip. The way one tit is just a bit bigger than the other. Your crooked finger from when you broke it playing volleyball in ninth grade. The gray hairs you’d been noticing popping up recently. 

“You’re the prettiest fucking girl at this college,” he says your name before kissing you sweetly. “Don’t want to look at anyone else.” You know it’s a lie, considering the fact that he does look at other girls, and often. It’s almost like you can’t bother to care, though. Your head is all floaty and tears are burning your eyes. 

He climbs on top of you, kisses down your chest, down your stomach, makes sure to take his time kissing that same birthmark you were so insecure about minutes before, your inner thighs, before finally landing where it matters most. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, yeah?” He looks up at you with those gorgeous eyes, the earnestness in them making your heart swell up. In this moment, it’s not the same Felix that made you cry last week because he told you you needed to get your own friends (you have plenty), or the Felix that ignored you at the pub to talk to Annabel, causing you to storm out and ignore him for three days until he realized. 

Sometimes, he doesn’t care if you come, and he doesn’t clean up after himself, and sometimes his words bite, and last week he made that insensitive comment about your friend with depression. But you think you might love him, and it feels like enough. 

After, he asks you to stay with him. You laugh languidly, tears brimming at your eyes from how hard. He kisses you, soft and slow, the moonlight seeping into the window and painting the carpet with light; it looks like a lone puddle of blood in a sea of blackness. 

When you wake, it’s nearly noon. The sun beams through the curtains and you shield your eyes, trying to move underneath Felix’s strong grip. He’s got a hand wrapped around your thigh. Your leg wrapped around his waist while your arms are, slightly pained from the uncomfortable angle, folded around his neck. You regret moving your face from its spot in his chest, wanting nothing more than to occupy his space for as long as possible. 

You can’t bear to wake him, his eyelashes fluttering ever-so-slightly against his face. You smile, tuck yourself back into him, and feel his breaths come out relaxed and steady. The tranquility doesn’t last long, though, and you watch as his eyes flicker open. “Good morning,” his voice is raspy, his saccharine accent accentuating every word with posh sweetness. He kisses your cheek and gets up, your eyes meeting his bare ass. “I should go shower, you cool to stay here?” He asks as he gathers his things. 

“I need to go,” you also get up, searching around for your undergarments and your uncomfortable cocktail dress, pulling the blue, beaded garment on without much care. “Sundays are study days with June.”

You slip your uncomfortable heels on, wincing at the blister you’d developed last night but didn’t notice until now, and kiss him on the cheek as you leave his dorm. 

The trek across campus has you nearly limping in pain, as you kick your shoes off the second you make it into your room. You gather your shower gear, thankful for your own bathroom and the warmth of a long, hot shower. It’s almost painful to wash his scent off of you, but you know you’ll be seeing him again soon, and let your floral body wash cleanse you and your sore form. 

Before you get dressed, you grab antibiotic cream and bandaids from a drawer and tend to your blisters, throwing on a pair of slip-ons to avoid even more pain. 

And as you go to study with June, your mind is far from Shakespeare; it rests only on Felix, Felix, Felix. 

[booksandabeer]

A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy) (E | 150 K)

To celebrate the completion of the fourth & final part Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) in this wonderful series by dorian_burberrycanary.

Author's summary: The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road? A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky fix-it as part of the all-American road trip, detours included.

Follow Steve and Bucky on their Great American Road Trip as they drive and eat their way across the country and beyond. From the beaches of the Jersey Shore to the graveyards of Savannah, from the cragged horizons of Mexico to deserts with (small) volcanoes, from college campuses to earthship settlements, from the mountains of Colorado to the monumental emptiness of the Great Plains and on and on and on…there is always more road ahead.

A Man Takes... is a miracle of a series that works with what should be an unworkable premise: Steve really did leave to go live in the past. He returned a few months later, yes, but he still made that choice. Knowingly. So, how can any author, any story, rectify such a colossal mistake, and how can it be reconciled with a believable, satisfying romance that short-changes neither Steve nor Bucky? Like this. With patience, and care, and often painful honesty. Just like Steve, this story slowly digs itself out from under the burden of that terrible decision.

I know that some people are very reluctant or even outright refuse to read EG-compliant fics and I understand why this might be a tough sell for them. Believe me, I do. But this series manages to neither let Steve off the hook for his choices nor does it punish him excessively. Instead, Steve and the readers are repeatedly confronted with the fact that there are no magical solutions here, no take-backs—it’s a fix-it, yes, and very much a Stucky fic through and through, but it’s not a fix-it fantasy where in the end everything turns out to have been an unfortunate misunderstanding after all. What's done is done and the only way out is through. But. even if you usually prefer to ignore anything that happened post-[insert preferred point of canon divergence here], please, please try to give this absolute marvel of a series a chance. It is genuinely one of the most rewarding and satisfying works I've ever read in this fandom. It's catharsis in slow motion.

You will find descriptive writing here that is so incredibly beautiful that it will bring you to your knees in awe. This series transcends fanfiction in many ways, as it stands out for the remarkable quality of the prose and the nuance, subtlety, and precision with which it explores both the emotional landscapes of its protagonists and a fictionalized, yet very recognizable post-Snap America. At the same time, it could only ever work as fanfiction because it stays so close to the characters and is so deeply rooted in and filtered through Steve’s inner life and perspective. Just like the real Steve Rogers, this story is smart and curious, and deeply empathetic towards its characters and the world they inhabit.

Every detail is imbued with meaning. The food Steve and Bucky eat. The clothes they wear. The art they look at. The books they read. The music they listen to. The places they stay at. The landscapes they drive through and the objects they carry with them or acquire along the way. One doesn't need to understand or even notice all of the references, allusions, or ambiguities to enjoy the series, but it makes for such a rewarding reading experience to really dig deep into the many, many layers the author has so expertly assembled into this phenomenally rich text. More often than not in this fic, the curtains aren’t just blue. Or rather, Bucky’s sweatpants aren’t just gray.

At some point amidst this sprawling, reflective journey, a bittersweet realization sets in: There simply is no compensation for the time and life lost, for the pain suffered. No money, no medals or statues, no hagiographies, and certainly no delusional pipe dreams forcibly made real, will ever make up for all that loss. You can't outrun your past, but that doesn't mean you should bury yourself in it. And maybe, solace can be found in mutual understanding, not just between these two men, but in interactions, in shared community—however fleeting—with ordinary people doing ordinary things in their ordinary lives. And in the beauty of the mundane and the relief that there still is a world in which such beauty can exist, even though it is so often a cruel and unjust place. Steve Rogers finally allows himself to feel his feelings: his grief and his shame, but also his joy and—even though he’s already so very tired—his hunger for more. More time, more life, more Bucky.

This series is a wonderful tribute to Steven Grant Rogers—an honest and affectionate portrayal of this compelling and lovable, if at times difficult, character. It is also a gorgeous, intricate love letter to the miracle of a man that is James Buchanan Barnes. As you can probably tell by now, I love it a totally not normal amount.

A most heartfelt thank you to @burberrycanary for taking us all along on Steve and Bucky's long journey across America and (back) to each other. Thank you for letting us sit in the back seat and watch as they learn to love and live with each other in old and new ways, finally find some measure of well-deserved rest and peace, and, together, face their greatest challenge, their longest fight, the eternal question:

How to live with all this survival?

[koolkat9]

America's Storage Room Cleaning 2 Ft. England

Rating: T

Relationship: America + Engalnd, AmeLiet

Word Count: 1440

Read on AO3

Author’s Note: I've had this idea for years. I even had started writing it out but never returned to it. But I was reading the manga/webcomics and I got to America's Storage Room Cleaning and I had to come back and finish this fic.

Why was he here?

Alfred and Tolys had been enjoying their morning coffee when there was a knock at the door. Usually, Tolys would always jump up to answer, and Alfred would have to tell him to sit down, he’ll get it. But instead, Tolys collected their empty cups as if he hadn’t heard anything. Alfred shrugged it off as Tolys finally realized that he no longer had to do his duties as Alfred's housekeeper. But when Alfred went to answer it, he was met with a huffy-looking Arthur, arms crossed and all.

“Arthur? What are you doing here?”

Arthur quirked a brow, his frown deepening. “What do you mean? You were the one who wanted help.”

“What?”

“Tolys called me last night saying that you needed help with something. You’re lucky I like the lad, or I wouldn’t even be here.”

“H-He didn’t...I don’t…”

Arthur scoffed, “Whatever. Are you going to let me in?”

When Alfred finally snapped out of his shock and confusion, he moved out of the way so Arthur could enter, giving the Brit a strained smile.

“Give me one-sec dude,” Alfred said before running to the kitchen. “Why is  Arthur  here?”

Tolys turned towards him, a soft smile on his face. “That storage room still needs cleaning, doesn’t it? I thought Arthur would be a good set of hands for you.”

Alfred gave him a childish pout. “When did you become so demanding?”

“When I started dating you. Now go talk to him.” Toly began pushing him out the door. Alfred could have easily pushed back, but he knew Tolys was right. Tolys was always right.

Taking Tolys’ advice, he guided Arthur down the hall and around the corner to where a small room sat. It was slightly larger than a closet and was filled with what most would call ‘junk’ collected over the centuries of his life. Alfred would often refer to it as junk as well, but deep down, he found himself unable to throw most of it out.

“God it’s filthy,” Arthur sneered, looking around at the dusty boxes, “You’d swear it hasn’t been cleaned in a hundred years.”

Though the Brit’s comment made Alfred’s blood boil, he couldn’t exactly argue with either of the points. “You wouldn’t be that far off,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Can you help me, or are you just going to criticize me like always?”

“I’m not your mother,” Arthur groused, making his way over to the pile to the right of the entry. “You can’t rely on me to pick up after you.” Despite his words, He began collecting stray items that had no box yet and began organizing them into a pile.

As Arthur made himself busy, Alfred began looking around, figuring he might as well try cleaning this place once more. It would probably get Arthur to leave. He trudged over to the pile of old toys, and sure enough, the box of soldiers sat on top. He snatched it up before Arthur could see it.

In all these dusty boxes awaited emotional death traps. And the man responsible for setting most of those traps was now poking around them about to set them off. Alfred shoved the box of soldiers into the darkest corner of the storage room.

While Arthur went through a box from the 1980s, Alfred began collecting all the items left over from his time with Arthur, shoving them in that corner. The first suit Arthur got him that was a bit stuffy, but came in handy during those fancy business meetings with the Continental Congress. The little nightgown Arthur had first found him in. The chest of stuffed animals, each handcrafted by Arthur himself. His first book that he’d beg Arthur to read to him almost every night for a year straight.

Alfred thought he was in the clear. But then something clattered to the floor. Alfred whipped around. “Hey be careful–”

His eyes landed on the musket that lay on the ground, the gash in its wood staring up at him, taunting him. The rain from all those years ago seemed to soak his back still, or perhaps that was just the cold sweat setting in. No, he couldn’t go back to that battlefield, especially not when Arthur was standing right across from him, staring at him with an unreadable look.

Alfred couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed the musket and jammed it into the corner, overflowing with the past.

Arthur blinked, mouth drawn into a thin line.

“J-Just forget it,” Alfred stammered, “I didn’t even want you here. This was all Tolys's idea. I-I’ve gotten along just fine and have accepted that this will never be clean–Arthur don’t–”

But Arthur had already wandered over to the pile, sifting through each box reverently. “You kept all of this after all this time?” Arthur asked softly, lifting up the old suit and inspecting it.

“Well…Um…I-I tried to…I mean…Yes…”

Arthur moved onto the toy box, finding the collection of wooden soldiers on top. He picked up one of the men, taking a moment to admire its face. “These were such a pain to make. I’m glad they still held up after all these years. Though they could use a new paint job.”

“Aren’t you upset,” Alfred blurted out. He nabbed the soldier from Arthur and returned it to its home. “Isn’t seeing this painful?”

“Perhaps a little. But I’m more relieved that I’m not the only one holding onto these kinds of things.”

Alfred huffed and crossed his arms. “It’s not because I miss you or anything. I just…”

“They’re tied to memories, so it's hard to give them away? Quite common for our kind.”

“Mhm…”

Alfred stared at his feet, scuffing his shoe against the floor. For a moment, it was like he was a child again, Arthur towering over him, that knowing look in his eye that always seemed to pull the truth from the darkest depths of Alfred’s soul. Of course, Arthur knew there was something more to this.

“I’m sorry…” Arthur finally said, “For everything. There was no excuse for me to abandon you like that. I was running away. From my responsibility, my mistakes. Being an empire makes you a shadow of who you once were. I shouldn’t have left you for so long, I should have guided you, I should have heard you out and been your voice against my bosses, but I was selfish. Everything I did, everything my nation did should have never happened, and I’m sorry.”

Alfred stared at him wide-eyed. Prideful, stubborn Arthur Kirkland, who hated vulnerability, was standing before him, apologizing.

“There isn’t enough to be said or that I can do to make it up to you, but I would like to at least try. If you’ll let me.” He smiled sadly. “Come now, Alfred. Don’t make that face.”

Alfred hadn’t noticed his face had scrunched up in an attempt to keep his tears from leaking out.

Arthur approached, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and offering it to Alfred.

Alfred took it, rubbing his eyes in a desperate attempt to get his emotions under control. “Why aren’t you crying?” he whined.

“I shed my tears long ago.”

“Stop being poetic and mature. It’s scary.”

“Cheeky brat,” Arthur scoffed though he was fighting a smile. He pulled Alfred into a hug, squeezing him tightly like he always did when they would reunite in Alfred’s childhood.

Alfred didn’t want to, but he clung to Arthur, missing the protective hold that never failed to put him back together. There was no stopping the waterworks now.

“That’s it,” Arthur murmured, rubbing up and down Alfred’s back, “Let it all out.”

Bold words coming from someone who liked to shove his emotions all the way down until he couldn’t hold them back, and they came out as anger. Not that Alfred ended up much different.

But here Arthur was, airing everything out. Alfred pulled away, thumbing away the last of his tears. “Thank you um…I think I need a little more time but…I’d like to try and fix things too.”

Arthur grinned. “That’s all I ever wanted.” He clapped and moved onto another box. “But we’ve got a job to do. If you would still like me to help, that is.”

“Yeah…yeah. Let’s do it.”

For the rest of the weekend, the two worked hard on arranging the storage room. They laughed, cried, shared stories, and when they emerged Monday evening, both felt like a weight had been finally lifted off their shoulders. Or at least, they weren’t shouldering it alone anymore.  

[strandnreyes]

Jen, I utterly adore your writing, as I hope I've made clear in the past. My favorite fic of yours is to live for the hope of it all. It was one of the first Lone Star AUs I read and I don't know how many times I've reread. (actually, thinking about it right now is giving me a very strong urge to reread...but I think I need to prioritize a reread of as if you were a mythical thing first!) I've been reading fanfiction since I was 12 in many different fandoms and it's truly one of my favorite pieces of fanfiction EVER.

Anyway, what inspired you to write to live for the hope of it all? Do you have a favorite line or favorite part of it? Was there anything you were going to include but ended up leaving out?

omg wow! thank you so much! your support is so evident and it means so much to me!! ❤️

honestly I have no idea where this story came from tbh! I like writing AUs that have a story or a goal outside of tarlos falling in love. I find those easier to write because there’s something there to move the plot along. So when thinking of a new au to write, I wanted something high-stakes, action/adventure and idk how I got here but I woke up the morning after my birthday with a hangover and a dream and by the end of the day, I had half an outline for this fic sidjsj

I think this was one of my favorite parts:

“Tyler Kennedy isn’t real,” TK says before he even realizes he wanted to. It’s everything he’s been feeling in the simplest of terms. Carlos’ gaze snaps to him, setting down the palm branch in his hand but staying rooted in his spot.

“He’s this perfect version of who I should be. The son of a movie star, the one born for great things, America’s heartthrob. He’s not… he’s not an addict, he’s not gay, and he’s not me,” he explains, suddenly having this urgent desire to be transparent with Carlos, to let him know what he’s getting into. Most people want to be with Tyler Kennedy, and while Carlos has never really known anything but the real version of him, he still has doubts. “He’s not TK.”

A soft smile takes over Carlos’ face as they stare at each other. “Well I really like TK,” he says slowly, knowing exactly what TK’s not saying. “And I think he’s pretty perfect.”

And this (because it goes together)

“Maybe there was a part of me that was worried,” he says as he stares at the wall in front of him. On it there’s an outline of the streets of Austin and Carlos’ clear love for the place he calls home makes TK want to see every inch of it when they eventually make it out of this bedroom.

“That I wouldn’t love you back?” Carlos asks with a hint of confusion, as if he can’t make sense of a world where that would be true.

“That you fell in love with a version of me that I couldn’t be here.”

Carlos hums, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I don’t need you to be TK for the whole world if that’s not something you’re ready for yet. I just need you to be him for me.”

Those parts feel like an overview of tk’s thoughts and what he struggled with throughout the whole fic (other than the whole ‘will I die here?’ thing)

I don’t think there was anything I had planned to include but then deleted. The story itself feels pretty wrapped up and cohesive to me. Of course there’s a bit of open ended-ness with what Carlos is going to do for a career now (partly because I didn’t know what he was going to do for a career), but the island is the main part of the story and what needed to happen there happened. I do think what happened in the initial crash when TK was still passed out and Carlos was alone would be interesting to dig into

[sitatu]

Fic rec:

The first I've read since I created my AO3 account :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618688

All I Want for Christmas

By Sleepyfaceandsnark

Captain America Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Jim Morita, Gabe Jones, James Montgomery Falsworth, Jacques Dernier, Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan, Peggy Carter, Howling Commandos<br />Additional Tags: Holidays, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Party, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Feels, Christmas Eve, Friendship, Howling Commandos - Freeform, Holiday

Summary:

Every year Steve is asked what's one impossible gift he'd want for Christmas if he could have any. And every year he's never truthful. Will he ever get what he truly wants or will he be stuck with socks as gifts forever?

The last fic that I started reading :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48490024

The Things We Hide

By: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePirateStorm

ThePirateStorm

Chapters: 1/26

Fandom: Captain America

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Lorraine, Rebecca Barnes Proctor, Winifred Barnes, Howling Commandos, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mpreg, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, hidden pregnancy, Secret pregnancy, New York Marathon, Mechanic Bucky Barnes, Marvel Cameos, Easter Eggs, so many easter eggs, Rating for later chapters, Anal Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Fuck Or Die, Hand-Wavey Medical, Pining, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Oblivious Bucky Barnes

Summary:

Bucky looked at Steve. Steve carefully did not look at Bucky.

“You didn’t tell him?” Becca asked, pausing in the doorway. Steve shook his head.

“He only just got here. Besides, I thought you would have told him over the phone,” Steve grumbled, now also carefully not looking at Becca.

“He is also standing right the fuck here,” Bucky snapped. “In case you both forgot.”

“Steve,” Bucky started, quietly, purposely not looking at either of them now. “Why is Becca your doctor?”

Neither Steve nor Becca answered him. Bucky looked up. Becca was watching Steve, who was staring intently at a wrinkle in the sheet covering the bed he was sitting on.

“Why is Becca your doctor right now?” He asked again, more forcefully, this time looking to his sister. “And why are we in the fucking family rooms?”

*****

Steve’s a marathon runner. He’s still friends with his ex-alpha, his life revolves around training, work, and Bucky, his best friend. He’s also 6 months pregnant and he doesn’t know who the sire is. If he ignores his problems, they’ll go away, right?

To be honnest I don't remember the first one, however that last one is promising, I highly recommend!

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hi, love your fics so much. Do you have any fluffy headcannons about what Steve Rogers is like as a boyfriend and then Husband?

hi!! thank you so much!!

I didn't have any written, but I've written one for you! I hope it's what you wanted and it's good, it's my first time writing a headcanon.

gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

FLUFFY HEADCANONS OF STEVE ROGERS (BOYFRIEND)

When Steve asked you out, he was so nervous. His palms were all clammy, and he swears his asthma came back, but the moment you said yes and smiled at him. He felt relief, and he was the cutest shade of red.

The date was a cute little picnic in a meadow full of flowers, watching the sunset with each other. Steve found out that it was your dream date from Nat. 

He’d pick flowers for you, knowing you’d rather that instead of wasting money that will just die.

He made sure that he set aside time for you. Date nights were once a week. You’d try every restaurant around the area and see which were worth returning to.

Steve makes sure there are always snacks stocked up anywhere you’d go. He’d carry a chocolate bar in each pocket, knowing you’d get hungry at some point.

As you go to sleep, he’d tell you about the 40s and run his fingers through your hair. He stared at you lovingly as you drifted off, thanking the universe for putting you in his path.

On your anniversary day, he looks down at the ring he bought. A small, simple ring. He was glad that whenever you looked at rings, you avoided the big, shiny ones.

He set up a picnic, copying the first date. After eating and talking, he took the ring out and asked you right then and there if you’d marry him. He beamed when you said yes.

FLUFFY HEADCANONS OF STEVE ROGERS (HUSBAND)

At the altar, he cried. When you walked out as beautiful as ever, he lost his breath, and Bucky had to poke him to get him to snap out of it. The minute you both said ‘I do’, he kissed you like there was no tomorrow.

As a husband now, he loves you even more than when you were just dating. He dotes on you daily and without you asking. He gave up being Captain America.

Once a week, you still have a date night and at least twice a week, you both stop everything and take care of one another. You run a bath, cook a fantastic meal, maybe even order in. Massages are involved, and sweet words are exchanged.

Steve’s taken up gardening and many other hobbies, and he loves spending time with you.

He’s happier with the news you shared with him.

He still picks flowers for you and stocks snacks everywhere. Honestly, if you asked Steve if he’d rather be anywhere else, he’d say no.

Because you are his home.

At the altar, he cried. When you walked out as beautiful as ever, he lost his breath, and Bucky had to poke him to get him to snap out of it. The minute you both said ‘I do’, he kissed you like there was no tomorrow.

As a husband now, he loves you even more than when you were just dating. He dotes on you daily and without you asking. He gave up being Captain America.

Once a week, you still have a date night and at least twice a week, you both stop everything and take care of one another. You run a bath, cook a fantastic meal, maybe even order in. Massages are involved, and sweet words are exchanged.

Steve’s taken up gardening and many other hobbies, and he loves spending time with you.

He’s happier with the news you shared with him.

He still picks flowers for you and stocks snacks everywhere. Honestly, if you asked Steve if he’d rather be anywhere else, he’d say no.

Because you are his home.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness…pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.

[acerace]

...you have opened my eyes to a vast universe of VintageBeef lore that I was unaware of. I knew about the New Hermit Order, of course, and the UHC invention, and I've watched a few of his CTM things but -- I will take all the info and lore you feel like giving out because Beef is amazing and my knowledge is so small.

Vintagebeef my beloved <3

So the thing is, right, until about 2016 I only watched two (2) youtubers- Vintagebeef for Minecraft and aDrive for Pokemon (and funnily enough both of them are named Dan irl). So I've watched most of Beef's videos over the years and have a general knowledge of most of his stuff, except because it's been like a decade I don't remember where most of the lore comes from XD

The thing with him is that he doesn't do Lore tm the way other mcyters often do lore- he doesn't have an extensive RP series to draw from like Grian, doesn't have a solo world with steadily increasing amounts of lore like Etho or Zisteau, and while he's played on SMPs and been involved in storylines before it's not really the focus of his episodes unlike with Evo or Legacy or Empires

So where does that leave us?

IRL, Beef always has multiple series running at the same time. Often he's playing on an smp while doing a singleplayer, often modded, series as well as a CTM or modpack with a group of friends. For example, right now he's playing on Hermitcraft, doing weekly Pixelmon and Building a Zoo episodes, and a CTM map with Slip. And to me, this translates to one thing: Beef is an adventurer. He travels frequently- he explores a world and when he decides he's done, he leaves for the next one. That's the basis of my personal interpretation of his series and his character for my writing.

Ok so reading this back, this got extremely long and didn't explain much in the way of lore, somehow? If anyone has any additions to add please do so, I am very definitely leaving out a lot and would love to see what other lore people remember and are using for Beef! I didn’t include the Hermitcraft stuff since my memory of season 4 is blurry (his base was themed after the Martian, that much I know, and he and Iskall were buddies :D) and most of the s5 NHO lore is best watched from Bdub’s perspective from what I remember, and the only s6 stuff is a single line in Hermitgang and then the Area 77 arc with its possibility of an NHO reunion which we did not get rip. And s7 of course had the cloning machine and also the Podzol Party as the main lore. So all the original rambling is still below the cut though it is very long, and I'm gonna bullet point the main stuff here instead:

Actual canonical things:

Invented UHC and was the only survivor of the first ever uhc (Mindcrack UHC s1)

Married to an ender dragon (one of the UHCs I think), later father to a different dragon (Mindcrack season 3? I think?)

Might not have legs if you choose to take that joke as canon (Mindcrack s2)

Was a wizard (RAD)

is a zookeeper (Building a Zoo) 

Had a wife and kids (Sims in Minecraft)

Part of the Trial of the B Team court case (Mindcrack)

NHO founder, founder of the Podzol Party (Hermitcraft)

Created a cloning machine that sort of works (Hermitcraft)

Played the Forest which is I believe the first time he and Keralis played together (look up the trigger warnings for this one, it's a horror game)

Was the creator/owner of Sourceblock SMP (featuring some familiar faces if you know Legacy, Empires, or MCC) and there is literal magic from a mysterious sourceblock of water that teleports people and summons mobs and probably more stuff that I haven't seen yet since I'm still watching it myself

Things you can infer:

Good with animals (Life in the Woods, Pixelmon, Ark)

Is a car nerd (irl and all of the car games he's played)

Is a highly experienced adventurer who has traveled through dozens of worlds both vanilla and modded, across multiple dimensions (Twilight Forest, the Aether, the Betweenlands, Limbo), completed dozens of monuments, fought in blood sports, survived apocalypse after apocalypse, tamed dinosaurs, and played a lot of prop hunt and golf with your friends

If you're looking for what to watch for lore purposes, I'd say the Mindcrack UHCs and Team Canada's RAD series are pretty good, definitely Sourceblock and HC s5, plus the Diversity CTM maps and Ruins of the Mindcrackers maybe? And Mindcrack Prank Wars for the chaos and the origin of Team Canada. And if you can handle horror than the Forest is fun and if you don't do horror you can watch the Pojkband play golf or prop hunt they're hilarious I love them sm I want a Pojkband reunion So Bad 

Beef's first series was a singleplayer series in beta 1.4_01 though he had played the game extensively before that, and was a big fan of Guude, having watched his own Minecraft videos. The series was functionally a hardcore one where if he died Beef would delete the world and start again! I haven't actually Watched this series so idk if he died or how often lmao. When Guude made Mindcrack, which was btw one of the very first Minecraft SMPs, he also hosted a competition for people to join, and Beef submitted a video (which is still viewable on his channel I believe!) and won, and was added to Mindcrack in season 2 :D (fun fact, Guude said that even if Beef hadn’t won he would have added him anyway) 

Two running jokes emerged from Mindcrack- pulling a Vintagebeef and Beef doesn't have legs. The first is a reference to Beef dying of fall damage (I believe the exact instance was him trying to jump into his swimming pool and failing spectacularly) and after the incident, every time someone died of fall damage they were pulling a Vintagebeef. The second joke comes from Guude, who joked that the reason Beef wasn't going to a convention was because he didn't have legs, and then he pranked Beef's base by building a giant pair of legs at the entrance to his castle so you had to walk between them to get into the base. This joke has long since died and both Beef and Guude feel pretty bad about it iirc because there were people who genuinely thought Beef was disabled and were emailing him supportive messages and stuff oops. So if you go looking on the Salad or find old Mindcrack fics, you might see references to Beef having prosthetic legs!

Mindcrack also brought about the creation of several Player groups- Team Nancy Drew, Team Canada, and GOB to name a few relevant to Beef. Team Nancy Drew consists of Beef, Pauseunpause, Guude, and Baj, who formed to investigate a prank on one of the members but I forget who. They're named Nancy Drew after the detective! Team Canada also formed in retaliation to pranks, with it consisting of Beef, Etho, and Pause, the three Canadian members on the server (not including Adlington who moved to Canada but never joined the group). There was also a Team America who pranked them with American flags everywhere. GOB is Guude, OMGChad, and Beef, who played stuff like the Ragecraft, Pantheon, and Monstrosity ctms together but that's way down the line lol

Team Nancy Drew is also notable for inventing UHC. It was Beef's brainchild but it was the four of them who first played it! The first UHC had the four of them working to kill the dragon with no natural regen, with everyone dying but Beef, who "won" the UHC. The second uhc was still dragon focused and iirc is where Beef married the dragon? Memories are hazy but they do kill the dragon in this one I think. UHC was then revamped as a pvp event and became a regular Mindcrack game every few months, featuring most of the Mindcrackers and several special guests, including Dinnerbone, who as we know Thanos-snapped Doc's arm out of existence as a result of Doc killing him in one of them

In one of the seasons of Mindcrack, Beef invited swedish Mindcracker and good friend Anderzel to go caving with him and invented ABBA Rules caving, where the winner takes it all. ABBA Rules is a game where each ore (and also dungeon loot like nametags) is assigned a point value and the person with the most points at the end wins and gets to keep all the stuff collected from the game.

In Mindcrack season 3?, Beef punched the ender dragon in an... awkward area, so when the dragon died and left the egg behind, Guude said Beef was the father of the egg XD I don't remember if I watched s3 so I have no idea if anything Happened with this concept but *history of the world voice* you could make lore out of this!

So Team Canada has played a Lot of CTM maps (which fun fact were pretty much invented by another Mindcrack member, Vechs, with his Super Hostile series! Super Hostile has a bunch of things called "Zistonian", which are references to another Mindcrack member Zisteau, who has a very wild singleplayer series with even wilder lore but I digress). In Ruins of the Mindcrackers, they had a running joke that Beef was Etho and Pause's mom, which is a joke we can leave in the past actually /lh. They also played all the Diversity maps, Sky Factory, Terra Restore, Uncharted Territory uhhh and a couple more ctms and adventure maps! Each map kinda has its own story so in Diversity 3 for example they were trapped in a simulation? I think? Team Canada also recently played the Roguelike Adventures and Dungeons modpack, aka RAD, in which Beef was a wizard with a magic staff that could do anything from summon lightning to control hostile mobs.

Sourceblock SMP is a vanilla survival 1.14 series that ran for one season and the series starts with each of the Players being drawn to a strange sparkling water source that, once they touch it, brings them to the Sourceblock world. It also summons a giant zombie at one point. There's probably more lore for this series but like I said I haven't watched it all the way through yet 

He has a Patreon server called VintageCraft and has done a series or two on there as well, and played a few UHCs with them, so lore that how you will! 

Beef also played a few popular mods, notably Pixelmon, Life in the Woods, and Feed the Beast, with LitW being singleplayer and the other multiplayer. He's also recently played the Zoo and Wild Animals mod a lot. He did a short series with the Minecraft Comes Alive mod where he married one of the villagers and had two children, so that's canon now :D he’s played a Lot of Pixelmon starting when the mod first came out iirc (he chose Turtwig in his first series and built a Grass gym, then made a Normal gym in another series in uhh 2016) and he still plays to this day. Quite a few Hermits played on his Pixelmon servers with him, like Wels, Etho, Iskall, Stress, Slip, Zueljin, and also Guude and Phedran (a Mindcrack adjacent player and creator of the LitW modpack) and a few Mindcrackers on the older servers 

Mindcrack and friends played a lot of other games too- 7 Days to Die, Ark Survival Evolved, Unturned, to name a few, so you can pull a lot of lore out of these as well. Speaking of friends and non-Minecraft games, Beef teamed up with Pause, Keralis, and Slip (a former Hermit) to play the horror game the Forest, which saw them stuck on an island trying to survive against terrifying mutated human... things. They played it a few times as the game updated but as afaik it's the first time Beef played with Keralis and possibly Slip and since the game starts with the Player's airplane crashing, that could totally be how Beef first met them in-universe 

I... think? that’s everything I mentioned in the tags? There is probably way more stuff I’ve forgotten that stems from inside jokes and things that happen within each series, but I hope that was a) helpful and b) at least somewhat comprehensible lmao 

[romegaketh]

i'm really in love with your writing style. What books do you think have influenced your writing style the most?

anon!!! this is so kind of you. i am such a fucking baby about how distinct my style is - i am keenly aware it's not everyone's cup of tea! i'm listing authors under the cut. most of these i've posted about #onhere and none of them are particularly deep cuts. hopefully this isn't too dull! it is pretentious tho. sorry can't be helped.

ursula le guin. i (re)read her entire bibliography earlier this year and the depth and strength of her prose - as well as her ability to align it with polemic! - blows me away to think about. (top three: the dispossessed, tehanu, five ways to forgiveness.)

margaret atwood. particularly the poetry collections. i haven't read a lot of atwood in recent years - she's politically intolerable, among other things! - but power politics is definitely at the root of how i want to write and wish i could. parts of the handmaid's tale are, on a craft level, simply astounding.

seth dickinson. i never shut up about how wonderful the traitor baru cormorant is, because it is that wonderful. dense and complicated prose, dense and complicated plot, all of it excruciatingly beautiful to read. laws of night and silk is a beautiful short story with similar themes that i adore, and there's a neat post on his blog about how he structures sentences that i think about often.

jeff vandermeer got me at a good time. borne is the book of his i'd recommend most - i think his less linear work is very beautiful but revels in its strangeness too much to be easily accessible.

china mieville has abuse allegations against him and seems like a total asshole. (also his new stuff sucks.) that said, iron council is a tour de force i loved so much i finished reading it and immediately bought a copy to send to a friend (before i learned abt the allegations). you have to like mieville's style to like it - you can't really half ass your way in, he's complicated and self referential - but if it works for you, it works. the denouement of iron council is... i get shivers when i think about it. (illegally download them, though. fuck that guy.)

i would be remiss if i didn't include Formative Fanfiction. i could never cover it all but i really like the specific house style used in like, mid 00s sorkin fic, which you also see sometimes in stargate atlantis fic of the same period. kind of spare, talky, vivid. a super specific often obfuscatory narrator. i don't do it bc i like parentheses too much, but it's in my heart. (i do the narrator thing though.) in no particular order:

even sugar peas run out of snap. sports night. you don't need to know sports night to get this fic, you just need to like breakups and getting your ass kicked by a narrative.

shoeless joe and the sunshine kid. captain america. this fic is my north star, lol. it's incredible. the shit it does with genre and expectation! unreal! if you can go in unspoiled that's best, and i never say that.

take clothes off as directed. sga. incredible construction, both word by word and as a functional world. (and as commentary!)

this was very fun to think about, sorry none of it is cutting edge! feel free to ask for specific recs if there's something you like, or warnings, or whatever. god i love... to read. thanks again <3

[flashflashhundredyarddash]

@joanofarkansass Glad you liked my fic recs! Here are some more marvel + xmen ones:

Catch Me Through the Looking-Glass by ylixia

"It's like a recurring nightmare: Steve Rogers, trapped in a world that is not his own, new love left behind, and nothing to keep him going but questions."

This fic is one of the more popular ones for a damn good reason. A Steve Rogers just reflecting on his relationship with his own Tony AND another Steve and Tony's relationship and getting PISSED the whole time.

Conflict of Interest by NotQuiteHumanAnymore

"Tumblr prompt! alien-angel-orsentientpotato (AKA my firstborn, Cheyenne) asked "Okay so headcanon for x-men evolution. Despite Pietro and Kurt being on separate teams they have a weird understanding of each other as they are both fidgety. Pietro because everything moves so slow and Kurt because he's not used to sitting still or being in one place for long periods of time like school demands. So through this understanding they form a weird pseudo friendship thing in which they race each other, play tag, and see what pranks they can pull on each other without getting caught." And it became this 30k behemoth."

I will be real, I ship Peter/Kurt which is definitely a very rarepair lol, but this fic was very cute! It's based on the xmen evolution cartoon. Even if you don't know much about it, I'd recommend giving this fic a shot!

With a Child's Heart by Scarlet_Ribbons

"“Oh, god.” Steve whispers, sounding as horrified as Tony feels. “You’re so young. Tony, he’s so young.”

Spider-Man coughs once, a frail, baby-bird sound.

.

(They find his body in a Dumpster.)"

:((((( Vry sad but vry good

don't know why it took me so long to see by goodmorningbeloved (3799steps)

"“Oh, watch this,” Natasha says, propping her chin against her knuckles and turning a sweet gaze on him. “Tony, what’s it like dating a superhero?”

Tony bristles in irritation. “We’re not dating,” he snaps. “Captain America probably thinks he can get into anyone’s pants just ‘cause he’s got a mask, costume, and reputation, but not me, buddy. That shield? Gotta be overcompensating for something.” He adds, a bit petulantly, “Oh, and all that blue? Definitely more Steve’s color than his.”

- In which Tony is a genius in all matters except recognizing his boyfriend past a mask."

A true comedy of errors lol. Tony doesn't realize that his boyfriend Steve is Captain America.

Idiot Control Now by @cygnaut

"Hank screws something up in the lab and everyone's powers increase tenfold. Not knowing how to control them like this, they all try to cope and not kill each other by mistake while Hank tries to find a way to reverse the effects. Charles has a particularly hard time of it."

I got distracted and reread this while making this list. VERY funny and also very creative in how their powers could fly out of control without devolving into crack territory. I LOVE cygnaut's fic and got distracted reading a bunch get ready for some more y'all

Adventures in Babysitting by cygnaut

"When Jean, Scott, and Ororo get in trouble and have nowhere to turn, they call on the last person they probably should—Magneto."

DADNETO!! I LOVE the way cygnaut writes the Erik and Ororo relationship, if I ever write xmen fanfic assume Erik is Ororo's dad in it okay I don't make the rules anymore only cygnaut makes the rules.

Blessed is the Match Consumed by cygnaut

""This isn't a concentration camp," Delta says, calm, like he's been rehearsing it. Erik looks at the gun on his hip, the guards behind him in the corridor, the bars between them.

He smiles with a lot of teeth. "I think I'd know that better than you."

AU in which the beach divorce didn't happen and Erik decides to stay and help Charles start his school. But despite their clean break, the government isn't ready to let the mutants disappear into hiding."

A brutal and really well-written fic.

Plausible Deniability by DragonBandit

"Kurt and Peter travel across mutant America to recruit for Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Kurt has a crush. Peter is oblivious."

Another nightsilver fic that I really like!

Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club by sara_holmes

"Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club. (Invitation and pending mental health evaluation required.)

"When Steve brings Bucky back to the tower for the first time, Clint’s first thought is that Tony Stark’s pride and joy is quickly becoming a less of a very tall and expensive ‘fuck you’ in the faces of investors who don’t believe in self-sustaining energy, and more of a superhero rehabilitation center."

Boyfriends, compromises and learning to like oneself."

SARA HOLMES WINTERHAWK QUEEN

Way Down We Go by @clarkestetler and @goosenik

"After being attacked and forcibly separated from Eddie Brock, Venom bonds to Peter Parker in order to seek both revenge on the LIFE Foundation and any evidence of his previous host. Peter Parker isn't exactly thrilled about this turn of events and turns to the Avengers for help managing his new symbiote."

I've recently fallen into the Peter/Harry ship and this fic quickly became one of my favorites! Very domestic and sweet but also scary and also Peter having a relatively realistic reaction to suddenly being possessed by an alien tickled me.

Turning Tables by @iamallyetnotatall

"Thanos knows if he leaves Tony Stark alive, that Earth's mightiest defender will find a way to undo all of his hard work.

So when he snaps and wipes away half the universe, he ensures that Tony Stark is one of those that fade to nothing.

I.E - a what-if series of ficlets where Tony is dusted and Peter isn't. HAPPY ENDING GUARANTEED"

Very Good. Pepper and Peter and Morgan family bonding is great.

I Don't Want To Keep A Secret by DOA

"As their senior year begins, Peter Parker and Harry Osborn have a lot to figure out on their own.

Peter has his hands full with his Aunt dating again, college, potential romance, and being superhero with a secret identity that may be more trouble than it's worth. Then Harry, with a troubling father, an uncertain future, possibly unrequited love, a family secret, and an ugly green monster that he has no control over.

But what happens if their separate problems are more related than they think?"

A very cute and plotty Parksborn fic set in the Marvel's Spider-Man universe. It does have first person POV and has been incomplete for over a year which :( but I did enjoy what I read!

There you have it! Half of these fics are kind of Really Popular fics (which are popular for good reason) and fics that just happen to really personally appeal to me lmao

[gunshou]

oh man i can't even choose which questions from that meme to send you lmao. how about 1, 4, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 17, and 19?

Ok, so for the sake of memes, we'll assume my fandom is just Bucky Barnes and not the larger MCU, because that's the truth.

Get a glass of water, because the waters ahead are salty af.

salty ask list

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get? Winterspider. I can see Peter hero-crushing over Bucky, and Bucky being sort of bemused and flattered, but Peter is a teenager and adult Bucky would never. Aside from the fact they have almost nothing in common experience-wise (and Bucky has supertanker-sized buckets of trauma) Bucky wants a man, not a kid who can't even buy a beer. (TBH, shipping Peter with any adult freaks me the fuck out, sorry. I get why people do it, but it squicks me hardcore.)

4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP? I really don't like reading Winterwidow. I know Bucky and Nat are a canon love affair in the comics (which I don't read), but if I'm gonna imagine any woman in Bucky Barnes' bed, it's gonna be me.

7. Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now? When I first jumped in less than a year ago, I was enjoying a fic that DID-style separated the Winter Soldier and Bucky, and heavily woobied TWS persona. Now I'll whump the ever-living fuck out of the Soldier and adore him traumatized to the point of barely functioning, but I don't like reading him infantilized or having other characters woobie him. And I think having a dissociated identity Bucky has to be done with careful nuance now that I'm a *cough* discerning reader. *nose in the air, lol*

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why? It's a toss-up between Tony Stark and Peggy Carter. I've explained my Tony hatred elsewhere. Peggy employed and worked beside Armin Zola knowing that he experimented on and tortured Bucky. You can't tell me that a smart, driven woman at the head of her own spy ring didn't have some inkling that the Winter Soldier project was going on and couldn't put two-and-two together.

10. Most disliked arc? Why? FUCK. YOU. ENDGAME-STEVEN. No explanation needed. 11. Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why? I'm with the rest of the trash squad in celebrating the Karpov renaissance! I don't think he's popular outside of our little circle and it's a shame. His bond with the Winter Soldier makes him a great character to explore. He kept the code book, which indicates deliberate sabotage of the American team when they came to claim his weapon after the fall of the USSR. Or maybe he just wanted to keep the only piece of the Soldier he could lay claim to. 12. Is there an unpopular arc that you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why? I mean, if you count "the fandom" as the wider group beyond HTP, than probably all the trash I adore would fit here. 17. Instead of XYZ happening, I would have made ABC happen… Oooooooh, boy. Um. I would rewrite Bucky's storyline in TFATWS. I would make his therapist explicitly a HYDRA sleeper agent employed by T. Ross to keep Bucky guilt-ridden and isolated so that he feels compelled to become the gov't's asset. John Walker would be groomed to be Bucky's new handler (blond, blue-eyed, Captain America). The fight against the Flagsmashers would start as a simple investigation into the super-serum that evolves into a world-spanning plot to destabilize countries just starting to get back on their feet after the second Snap, with the HYDRA-owned GRC poised to swoop in and seize full power. Bucky would be manipulated by judicious exposure of his trash past into serving HYDRA again only to be revealed in the climax as having manipulated them so that he could get close enough to the bad guy leaders to take them down. There'd be a truly vicious fight that calls upon every ounce of his deadly skill and capabilities so that he finally sees that while he may still be a weapon, he can aim himself now and fight for a cause he believes in. And then Steve would come back from the moon and they'd fuck onscreen. 19. What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom? Antis and purity police. Just let me enjoy my trash porn in peace, asshats. I guess the second thing would be the actual MCU writers, who managed to take vibrant characters and a strong narrative arc and no homo them into utter ruin and ooc behavior.

[possibleplatypus]

1, 3, 25.

👀👀

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?*

Ohhh... I hope I don't get stoned (lol) for this *crosses fingers* but I figure most of my followers are stuckies, so... I don't really get stony? Like... I understand they're more of a thing in the comics and Steve marries a female Tony Stark, and even in Avengers Assemble they are much better friends who actually trust each other, but MCU stony? Who only ever managed to grudgingly work together and in the end couldn't even manage that? But I guess I can understand the whole enemies to lovers appeal 😅??

3. Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

Absolutely 😂 I was following this person for months, don't remember why, I think initially for captain america stuff, and all of a sudden they started posting pro-endgame steggy gifsets and I unfollowed immediately. Did not want that on my dash 😅

25. How would you end XXX/Would you change the ending of XXX

Ohhhh how would I end Endgame? I've read a lot of good metas and a lot of good alt-ending Endgame fics and there are a lot of things I would change--

- Natasha lives, Clint never becomes a mass murderer, Thor doesn't get shamed for gaining weight and having PTSD Tony actually realizes he was wrong about Ultron, no professor Hulk

- I would have Steve confront the Red Skull and throw him off the cliff. Bonus if it’s after he needles Steve about Bucky being missing

- I would actually have the six remaining Avengers use the six infinity stones for symbolism reasons, and not have all of them in one gauntlet. And as a bonus, I'd have all their friends backing them up (eg. Bucky and Sam and Wanda backing up Steve while he uses the Space stone, for instance). (Because what the hell did the GOTG teamwork sequence with the power stone mean in the end if they weren't going to use that again??)

- If the stones HAVE to be in one gauntlet, then I would choose someone who makes sense to use it-- like Thor or Captain Marvel

- No snapping 4 billion humans and however many other trillions of life forms back into existence and causing an ecological disaster. Make it so that the Snap never happened at all.

- Give Steve, Bucky, and Sam an actually emotionally satisfying reunion and also give stucky a wedding on the battlefield

- Steve retires in the present so he can try out some of that life Tony was talking about. Maybe he starts drawing again. He's roommates or at least keeps in touch with Bucky. They go on a roadtrip to the Grand Canyon before Bucky starts his mission to help the lives Hydra ruined, with Sam as the new Captain America.

salty asks

[booksandabeer]

Hi. First of all, you’re amazing and you’re doing God’s work for us. Second, could you please recommend me some time-travel fics? I think I already read a few well known ones, and was wondering if there’s more? Also, it’s usually both or Bucky who time-travels, is there fics where Steve goes alone instead?

Hello Stranger!

Thanks for the ask and your very kind words. I live to serve! 😉

Now. The first thing I need to do here, is to point you towards this excellent rec list by @voylitscope There are a lot of very good fics on it and I strongly recommend you check it out.

I also want to apologize again for the long wait. I had a busy week and when I finally sat down to put together this list, I realized fairly quickly that almost 90% of it was comprised of some sort of EG-Fix-It fics. Just the idea of writing up my thoughts on all of them felt exhausting and saddening to me, so I scrapped the whole thing and started over. So without further ado, here are 7 fics featuring timey-wimey stuff that I have read and very much enjoyed and 3 more that I've yet to read, but can't wait to get to because they look amazing:

sun peeking through the sky series by dontcallmebree | M, 16K (2 Parts)

Author's summary: Steve clears his throat, curling his hands into fists to hide them. “Alright, say I believe you. Hell, you’re here. So what?”

Scott pins him with an unshakable stare, alive and unyielding. He never realized Scott could be so intense. Sam was the one who knew Scott better, but then again, Sam was always the better one of the two of them. “Look, the place I was in—the quantum realm—it messes with time, it lets you go back.”

Steve wants to throw him out.

A post-IW, twice-over canon divergent series. In the first part, Scott and the Ant Fam (or what's left of it post-Snap) burst into a heavily depressed Steve's existence and slowly turn it into something resembling a life again, and together they hatch a plan to save the world. What that plan entails? I'm not going to spoil it here, but let's just say it's much more clever and original, not to mention more logical and emotionally satisfying than anything that happened in EG. It's a quietly humorous, suspenseful, heartbreaking, and at times brutally tender series about finding and accepting second chances when you least expect them.

To Live It Again Is Past All Endeavor by trinityofone | T, 21 K

Author's summary: Time travel bodyswap! Present-day Steve and Bucky wake up back in their old bodies in 1938, while past Steve and Bucky wake in a future where they're both built like comic book heroes and Bucky's got what he thinks is a swell future robot arm. Adventures are had, and the ethics of time travel are debated. Also, everyone trash talks Willem de Kooning.

A story that really drives home some hard emotional truths while never entirely losing its light touch. Accompany Steve and Bucky as they travel into the future AND the past, and discover their once and future selves. I call this fic "the clairvoyant one" because it features Steve and Bucky contemplating staying in the past and a subsequent discussion of the ethics and purpose of time travel that had me frantically scroll back up and check that, yes, this fic was indeed written all the way back in 2014. I then proceeded to lose my mind a little bit because it is such an eerily specific and accurate rebuttal to Steve's EG ending that I'm more than half convinced the author has clairvoyant abilities.

Where All Roads Lead by DrowningByDegrees | E, 46K

Author's summary: When Steve Rogers inadvertently touches a relic in the course of a mission gone sideways during WWII, he’s catapulted seventy years into the future. Before he's even sure where he's ended up, his search for help puts him in contact with Bucky Barnes, a historian and college professor who has built a career around studying Captain America. With Bucky's help, Steve means to find out how exactly he ended up in 2017, and solve the bigger mystery of how to get home. There's just one problem. The closer they get to their goal, the less certain Steve is that he wants to go home.

A Shrunkyclunks AU where Steve accidentally time travels straight from WW2 to the 21st Century. It's funny and heartbreaking, well-written and cleverly plotted. Also features beautiful art by alby_mangroves that not only beautifully augments the story, but actually is a part of it, too.

The Restoration Artist by superheroresin | E, 109K

Author's summary: As a conservator of rare oil paintings for The Met, Steve Rogers thinks of himself part scientist, part archaeologist, but hardly an artist in his own right. Only when he’s faced with the daunting task of restoring a frozen painting from a recently unearthed Nazi art hoard does he start to feel his passion for the craft return. Before he has a chance to understand what that means, Steve is transported to the 1940’s, where he meets both The Winter Soldier himself, and his own destiny.

A Shrinkyclinks AU in which art conservator Steve travels through time to save Bucky... who has been trapped in a painting...? Mystery! Romance! Art Talk! I practically inhaled this thing in one go, despite the length. This is a really lovely story, full of clever ideas and twist and turns that will keep you guessing. And on top of that you'll learn a whole lot about art restoration! What's not to love?

the world on fire by burlesquecomposer | M, 62K

Author’s summary: Steve loves old vinyl records, doodles on his files, and cannot remember a time that he didn't serve the TVA. And that suits him just fine—that is, until stray variant Bucky Barnes, fresh out of HYDRA's grasp, drops into his time theater and makes Steve question everything he believes in.

A really well written fic that has time travel and variants and alternate timelines and parallel universes and... you get it. A whole lot of timey wimey stuff, but the author keeps track of it all and ties up everything beautifully in the end. A super fun premise, clever plotting, wonderful characterizations, and a firm grasp on the SteveBucky dynamic in every incarnation/iteration/variation. It's a really lovely fic and I think it deserves a lot more love and attention.

On the Cover of Dawn by adeepeningdig | T, 6K

Author's summary: “Listen,” Bucky says again, and pads to Steve, book still in hand. “I’d sell my soul for that/fawn/of a boy night walker/to sound of the ‘ud & flute playing/who saw the glass in my hand said/“drink the wine from between my lips.” He kisses Steve then, insistent, tongue sweeping into his mouth, body to body. Steve buckles beneath it. Two stories. One poem.

I'm cheating a little with this one... maybe. To be perfectly honest, I don't really know what's going on here even after I read this several times. Is it time travel? An alternate universe? Reincarnation? None of it at all? The thing is, I'm not sure the reader is meant to definitively know or understand what exactly is happening, and ultimately, it doesn't really matter. What does matter is the poignancy, the beautiful, at times lyrical language, and the reassurance that Steve and Bucky will find and love each other in every possible universe and incarnation. Also features one of my favorite George Barnes scenes ever.

From Tralfamadore, With Love by newsbypostcard | E, 106K | Part 1 in From Tralfamadore series

Author's summary: In 2018, Steve, Sam, and Bucky embark on a mission to explore a Hydra-owned warehouse when a kid with mutant powers sends Steve 18 years into the future. Steve's just as in love with Bucky as he was when he left, but for Bucky it's been a long 18 years. As he gets used to life in 2036 and the flaws in Bucky's idyllic life expose themselves, Steve also has to manage a suspiciously ubiquitous security force, a Brotherhood of Mutants, and old competing loyalties among his aged friends. There's a Bucky in 2018 waiting for him to come home, but if he does that, it means leaving this Bucky behind for a third, unforgivable time. How can he choose?

Yes yes, I recced this not too long ago, I know. But there is simply no way in hell that I'm going to put together a time travel rec list and NOT include this fic. The summary is pretty self-explanatory, and I really don't want to reveal anymore than that. Much of the tension and emotional drama in this fic comes from not knowing what's going to happen, and from desperately guessing at how on earth the author is going to solve Steve's impossible dilemma. I loved the way the author explored the relationship of a Steve and a Bucky who have been separated for two seconds and 18 years, respectively. Also, possibly the best use of a Fleetwood Mac song in fanfic ever.

🕰 +3 To Reads:

Savage God by PottersPink | M, 36K

Author's summary: Past, present, future, Steve knows Bucky Barnes. It’s why he recognized him when he found him in that alley in April of 1942, even though Bucky was older, stronger, wearier; he called himself The Asset, and had a metal fucking arm. The Asset was only with Steve in 1942 for a few days, but it’s enough to change the course of Steve’s life forever.

Seventy years later, Steve wakes up in the twenty-first century, and he doesn’t know whether to be heartbroken or hopeful when some of the things Bucky revealed to him in 1942 start falling into place.

Every You, Every Me by Starshot | E, 48K

Author's summary: Desperate to follow when Bucky ships out to war in 1943, Steve volunteers for Project Rebirth, an experimental program meant to turn him into the world’s first super-soldier. Instead it fails, leaving him with a condition dubbed “Chrono-Impairment” which sees him travelling uncontrollably through time, to random points in both his and Bucky’s lives.

But with Bucky brainwashed into working for HYDRA, and Steve living life on the run, torn between his own time and Bucky’s, will they ever find the happy ending they so desperately desire? (AKA the Stucky AU based on the book, "The Time Traveler’s Wife" by Audrey Niffenegger)

a day in the life by powerfulowl (StuckyFlangst) E, 20K

Author's summary: Steve wakes to the sound of someone moving about in the kitchen below him. He lies for a few moments, trying to recall—a dream?

He looks over at the nightstand and there is a piece of card propped up there. He reaches out to take it.

You are Captain America. You are Steve Rogers. It is 1956. You are married to Peggy Rogers, nee Carter. You live in New Jersey. Sometimes you have trouble remembering.

Steve Rogers wakes up on Tuesday October 30 1956, and doesn't seem to remember his life that well. Why does every day feel so familiar? And why does he keep getting visited by tall, dark, handsome men who remind him of Bucky?

____________

You can always send more asks for fic recs if you want. I love inflicting my taste on everybody else!

[a-simple-complexity]

Playing Your Cards Right

Pairing: Eduardo x Psychic!Original Character

Fandom: Eddsworld

Fluff, Some Angst (which is iffy when I write bc I hate angst...but like angst....love hate relationship)

Fun fact: this is a little tidbit of how my OC, a psychic, met the neighbors. The whole fic I'm working on is a sort of Eddsworld x 13 Ghosts Crossover. Bc why not. AND (another side note) this is loosely based of an aunt I have who can read people like a book using playing cards as tarot cards (it's cool and freaky). I'm also planning on rewriting the first part of the story (it's on my Ao3 account: deeplyconcernedcrow)

~~~

~~~

After the death of Jon, Eduardo had a habit of going to a specific bar once a week. It was a small dive bar. The typical place for a depressing swig of beer.

He had sat in his usual spot in the back corner and began to drink. Memories filling his head.

"This seat taken?" He glanced up to see a dark lady. A young woman dressed in a dark navy blue dress that went to her knees. He shook his head and she sat down only to begin shuffling a deck of playing cards. Eduardo watched her move her hands. She was leaned back occasionally sipping on her beer.

Eduardo glanced up from her hands, "Haven't seen you around here before."

"I just got here. Something happened back home and....just needed a break," she gave a smile and kept shuffling.

"Planning on playin' something with those?"

She stretched, "Nah, just like shufflin'....the names Veronica Rafkin."

"Eduardo," he stretched his hand out. "...Rafkin? Like Dennis Rafkin? That ghost hunter?" Veronica glanced back to her cards to shuffle.

"....yeah....anyways," she grabbed the first few cards on top of the deck and placed it down.

9 of Spades.

10 of Hearts.

Queen of Clubs.

5 of Diamonds.

Ace of Spades.

Veronica grinned and looked to the man in front of her. "Something has happened in your life that has caused you a great deal of stress-"

"Yeah, no shit! I'm sitting here drinking my sorrows away!"

Veronica lifted her arms in defense, "I see that good fortune is coming soon."

And there she explained what the five cards meant.

~~~

9 of Spades: Bad luck, depression, anxiety.

10 of Hearts: Good fortune is coming.

Queen of Clubs: A dark-haired, helpful, and confident woman.

5 of Diamonds: Improvements and success in business, happy home life.

Ace of Spades: Endings, misfortune.

~~~

"So what your saying is my life's gonna turn around and it has something to do with a dark haired w-" he glanced up to see her raven-colored hair. "How do I know these cards are telling the truth? Had a hard time believing in your brother until Jon d-...." Eduardo's eyes widened and his head slumped down to the table and he took another swig.

Eduardo believes in ghosts, spirits, angels, demons etc. He believes in psychics sometimes too. He's just angry about Jon. Veronica, or Ronnie as we'll call her, nodded an understanding nod. "If it makes you feel any better....my brother was killed too."

"I heard about that....how'd he die?"

"Ghost attack...snapped his back on the corner of a house...." Ronnie sighed and went back to shuffling the cards. "After that I had to leave America. It was too much. I just need to find a place to stay."

Eduardo's eyes shifted to the floor beside the table. "...my roommate and I have an extra room but you gotta share it with...with a ghost."

Ronnie nodded. "I guess I'll swing by with my stuff tomorrow. I've been staying at a hotel for the past week and let me tell you....doing tarot readings with playing cards for cash is hard when almost everyone is a skeptic."

Both laughed and continued their night.

Eduardo eventually called Mark to pick him up due to being too drunk to drive.

Veronica got back to her motel room and began getting things ready for the next day. She did a few tarot readings for a quick cash grab and looked back to the newspaper she swiped from earlier that day.

At least she'd be in an actual house instead of the motel.

[stilitana]

time for new year's day review of what i read last year...i'm very happy with the reading i did, much of it was so good for me...i read 41 books which sounds like way more than i remember so here are highlights

cannot believe how slippery time has gotten because i was so sure the first book i read this year was stone butch blues, but no, that was 2020. the first book i read was house fires by nancy reisman and i really liked this collection of three parts of interlinked stories. the end made me tear up.

other short story collections i liked:

i hold a wolf by the ears by laura van den berg (very spooky in a low-key way, if it had a soundtrack it would be all synth)

a visit from the goon squad by jennifer egan

birds of america by lorrie moore

monstress by lysley tenorio

kolyma stories by varlam shalamov (not all 1k pages but quite a bit)

trash by dorothy allison (one of my favorite things i read this year)

some novels i liked:

interior chinatown by charles yu (this was so fun, so playful and inventive with the form and structure)

milkman by anna burns

the end of days by jenny erpenbeck (this one was really, really good and challenging)

the underground railroad by colson whitehead

there there by tommy orange (i listened to him give a zoom reading and his voice + audio quality sounded like the godspeed you! black emperor monologue in dead flag blues)

luster by raven leilani

housekeeping by marilynne robinson

freshwater by akwaeke emezi

i finished the brothers K but that took me 4 years so don't get full 2021 credit for that one

i also read some novels that were truly atrocious but i don't want to think about them so moving on

novellas: i love novellas so so so much a good novella is such good shit, it gives you the urgency & brutal efficiency of short story but lets it stretch out and simmer like a novel...some of my fav things are novellas

mcglue by ottessa moshfegh (this is my favorite thing i've read of hers so far...perfect length for the story just perfect would likely have been an atrocious novel)

things have gotten worse since we last spoke by eric larocca (honestly didn't know this one was causing minor internet controversies when i read it but tbh getting to analyze reader reactions to the story & author made it more interesting to me, otherwise wouldn't really have thought much of it, but it absorbed me for an evening)

khirbet khizeh by s. yizhar

sofia petrovna by lydia chukovskaya (this was a reread)

minor detail by adania shibli (this is one of my top things i read all year. maybe the best thing i read all year. absolutely astonishing it cracked my brain open. i'm going to read it again some day.)

i didn't read much poetry. i did read mistaken for loud comets by lily someson and it was brilliant, loved it. also IRL by tommy pico

memoirs/essay/nonfic:

i started secondhand time, but i'm going to return to that and give it a fresh start, maybe this year

s/he by minnie bruce patt

butch is a noun by s. bear bergman (i'm in love w him i'm reading the nearest exit may be behind you now)

gender failure by ivan coyote and rae spoon

in the dream house by carmen maria machado

i didn't really read any genre fiction this year...i tried gideon the ninth but didn't get far, maybe another time. i have some i really want to get to, some sci fi stuff, but i guess this year instead of putting in the effort to get cracking on that, i just read fic instead, which is usually my easy go-to when i'm craving what i tend to want when i reach for genre fiction, which is...to not be wherever i currently am, physically or emotionally...which means that honestly i tend not to remember most of the fics i read because i'm devouring them in states of high anxiety & insomnia lol. but one i really really remember and still think about is this blade runner one, conspiracies of the body by geometrician, maybe because the quality and style struck me as so novelistic that it snapped me out of my usual mindless fic speed reading and i actually felt like i was reading a really original gritty neo-noir sci fi cyberpunk type novel. it was good i'll read it again sometime