#boxing gym bronx

[ronansullivan]

Oh, is that RONAN SULLIVAN? I heard the FORTY-TWO year old is SAGACIOUS. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also JADED. Makes sense seeing how they are the PRESIDENT of the GHOST RIDERS MC gang.

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full name: ronan james sullivan

nicknames: sully, big sully, prez

faceclaim: jensen ackles

birthdate: november 22nd

alliance: ghost riders mc

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

occupation: gang leader

hometown: the bronx, new york.

sexual orientation: straight pan but repressing the shit outta that

relationship status: single, divorced

height: 6"4

gunpowder and cigar smoke, measuring the ingredients for a loaf of bread, a smile like a knife, stretching over a pool table to line up the perfect shot, blood on your hands, stitching patches into leather, feeling at home in the shadows, whiskey burning hot in your chest, calloused fingers and a wicked grin, the sticky table at a local strip joint, a trail of hickeys up your spine, a bar with an old jukebox, scars you won't talk about, an engine so loud it makes your bones shake, stubble burn between your thighs, flipping pancakes on sunday morning, split lips and busted knuckles, never knowing when to back down.

knocked around the bronx with his younger brother for most of their childhood, father was a drunk and a no-good who made their lives hell. as the eldest ronan bore the brunt of the spiteful abuse, drawing the ire away from the rest of the family. uncle was a biker, taught ronan everything he knows about mechanics and mcs.

big sully and little sully were inseparable, climbing the ranks through the mc easily with their loyalty and skills. earning the nicknames pinky and brain. tommy was loveable where, ronan was suspicious and street-smart. he had one finger permanently hooked in his younger brother's collar to keep him out of trouble, which worked maybe 50% of the time.

then he got recruited, the navy sank its claws into him and he lost 5 years to them. returning to find tommy embroiled up to his neck in gang business, having made mess after mess in his absence. sully went back to his old ways, harder and without care this time, trying to stop his brother drowning with one hand and watching his own back with the other.

though he started off scared of fighting, his street brawling and time as a teenager fighting in various ny boxing gyms gave him a good base for training and soon he was near-lethal. the power felt good, the hurt felt good.

sully started spending time behind bars here and there, tommy falling faster, using harder and harder gear. during his longest stint in jail, tommy was fatally shot by cops during a job gone wrong, in the 20 minutes after that phone call ronan added a year to his sentence.

as he dragged details out of people in the months that followed his release, the whole thing didn't make any sense. it just stinks to ronan, the whole situation and even years later he wants to figure out just what actually went down that night. most people think he needs to let it go and that he's making up something to solve since he wasn't there for tommy.

ronan got married, to his on-again off-again girlfriend since high school. their love was all-consuming and real but awful for the people around them, for them both. too much of their time spent screaming in one another's faces and then making up to be tenable.

ronan has this way of making you feel confident, filling you with a sense of assuredness with a grin on your face. over time he started to resent how well he could bolster people: when the world would chew them up just like everybody else.

tried extremely hard not to grow up to be as angry as his father. he's angrier. after sully's brother died the red mist descended and he carved a bloody path through new york on his rise to leadership, anyone who knew ronan then will tell you something died behind his eyes when tommy did. a couple of nicknames a few bars have him still banned under are 'ronan the red' and 'ronan the barbarian'.

tries to give back quite a bit? though their work is grimy, the money dirty bills, not honest at all, sully throws block parties in the bronx, supplying food and drink for whole streets during the summers. businesses under the mc's protection get taken very seriously. there are big charity drives, donations. they settle neighbourhood disputes with street-corner town halls. they move abuse victims out of unsafe homes, sometimes still big sully will roll up his sleeves and knock out a husband if he needs to teach a lesson.

whitney and ronan divorced when freya was three, something better for everyone involved. they still had that chemistry that could cause arguments but the space allowed them to revisit the friendship that had kindled it all with their shared custody. whitney died in a hit and run a few years later when freya was seven. until about 5 years ago he wore the ring and told everyone he was widowed to just have some fucking peace for a while: he got married young, fell straight into the life and was so busy with work that a relationship was simply another target to add to the dwindling collection on his back. so he didn't.

sully has mellowed out a lot since rising the ranks. he's learned a lot of hard lessons told in the scars that mark him, eating at and cutting through the ink that covers his fingertips, all his arms, and across his shoulder blades to meet in the middle. those that haven't seen him at his worst, wouldn't know that above the slighter softer middle of his forties the breadth of his shoulders still houses someone strong enough to kill a man in one poorly or well-aimed punch, without blinking.

ronan takes all kinds, the downtrodden and the spat-upon can all find a place with the mc as long as they have heart and grit. sully is pretty hands-on at ensuring no one is abusing power in the ranks. views all of them like his kids but has to divorce himself from those feelings for the sake of his sanity and operations. doesn't stand for intolerance or prejudice either, if you say a slur he's feeding you your own teeth, he's an old dog but freya has taught him a lot.

freya is thirteen now and he shares custody with her grandma, he bought them a house in long island in 2008, one of the big victorian wooden ones, and renovated it. sully spends half his time up here down the big driveway, behind the tall pines with the people he loves most. too self-indulgent to give them up completely.

can often be found kneading huge mounds of dough for the bread at 3-4am in the bakery or enjoying a powdered sugar snowstorm out back while wearing an apron. it's something he, his mom, and his brother used to do together and it's meditative to him.

sully has his left eyebrow, his septum, and his tongue pierced as well as the cartilage of both ears. and his left nipple, you'd have to get one of the ghost riders to swear that on their bike.

[bhqextras]

Meeting Starters

Send “Meeting + a symbol” for a starter of our muses meeting at this location, possibly for the first time! (all specific locations are only suggestions!)

Our muses meet out to eat

🥐 at a bakery (ex. Bake My Day in Queens; Toastery in Manhattan) ☕️ at a cafe (ex. Higher Grounds, Manhattan; The Snug Mug, Staten Island) 🐈 at a cat cafe (ex. Kitty and Brew in Brooklyn) 🍵- for tea (ex. Rise & Grind in the Bronx) 🍳 for brunch (ex. Bluebirds in Manhattan) 🍝 at a fancy restaurant (ex. Bella Vita in Staten Island) 🥤 at a cheap diner (ex. Diner in the Bronx) 🍨 at the ice cream parlor (ex. Freshly Churned in Staten Island)  🎤 at a singing restaurant (ex. Stardust in Manhattan) 🧃 at a smoothie shop (ex. Main Squeeze in Queens) 🥗 at a vegan restaurant (ex. Wild Living in Manhattan)

Our muses meet shopping

🛍️ at the mall (ex. Bay Plaza Mall in the Bronx) 👖 at the market (ex. Brooklyn Flea Market, Queens Night Market) 👗 at the thrift store (ex. Trove Thrift in Brooklyn) 📚 at a book store (ex. Cover to Cover in Queens, Brownstone Books; Brooklyn) 🌸 at the florist (ex. Dahlia and Daffodils in Staten Island) 🎵 at the record shop (ex. Grooves in Staten Island) 🗝️at the antique store (ex. Antiques in Queens)

Out muses meet at the club

🕺 at a club playing throwback music (ex. Retro Night Club in the Bronx) 💃🏻 at a club playing latin music (ex. Havana Night Club in Queens) ✨ at a club playing modern music (ex. Club 51 in Manhattan) 🏳️‍🌈 at a LGBTQ+ club (ex. Glow, Brooklyn; Sugar & Spice, Queens, Pegasus, Manhattan) 🤠 at a club with a mechanical bull (ex. Cowbells in the Bronx) 👠 at a strip club (ex. Emeralds in Manhattan) 🎷at a jazz club (ex. The Blue Note in Queens)

Our muses meet at a bar

🍸 ordering drinks (ex. Becky’s Martini Bar in Manhattan) 📝 on trivia night (ex. Corner Pub in Brooklyn) 🍺 sitting at the bar (ex. Joe’s Tavern in Queens) 🎱 playing a bar game (ex. Puzzles in Manhattan) 🍹on karaoke night (ex. Songbirds and Sangrias in Staten Island) 🌆 viewing the skyline (ex. Zenith in Manhattan) 👀exchanging glances (ex. The She Shed in the Bronx) 🍽 sharing an appetizer (ex. The Tool Shed in Staten Island)

Our muses meet around the city

✈️ at the airport (ex. JFK in Queens) 🎟️ at an amusement park (ex. Coney Island in Brooklyn) 🐠 at the aquarium (ex. New York Aquarium in Brooklyn) 💳 at the library (ex. New York Public Library) 🗿 at a museum (ex. Guggenheim, Met, MoMa, New York Historical Society) 🏞️ at the park (ex. Central Park, Prospect Park in Brooklyn, Socrates Park in Queens) 🎭 at a theatrical production (ex. the Theater District in Manhattan) 🚋 at the train station (ex. Grand Central Station in Manhattan) 🚕 at Times Square 🌆 on a walking path (ex. The High Line in Manhattan, Brooklyn Heights Promenade) 🏟️ at Yankee Stadium 🦦 at the zoo (ex. Bronx Zoo)

Our muses meet doing an activity

🏋️‍♀️ at the gym (ex. Core Fitness in Staten Island) 🥊 at the boxing gym (ex. Champion Boxing in the Bronx) 🍿 at the movie theater (ex. Dollar Theater in the Bronx) 📽️ at an outdoor projected movie (ex. Technicolor Theater in Queens) 🎸 at a concert (ex. The Echochamber in Brooklyn; Riot House in the Bronx) 🤣 at a comedy show (ex. Punchline in the Bronx) ⛸️ at a skating rink (ex. Roller City in Queens) 🎳 at a bowling alley (ex. Strike! in Staten Island) 🖌️ at the tattoo parlor (ex. Electric Ink in Brooklyn) 🧰 at the mechanic (ex. One Stop Auto Repair in Queens) 🖼️ at an art show (ex. Haze Gallery, The Underground, or Gilded in Brooklyn) 🎨 doing arts and craft (ex. Glazed Finish in Brooklyn) ⛳️ playing mini golf (ex. Holidaytown in Manhattan)

[bullet-prooflove]

Coming Up This Week: 6/2/2023

Monday 6th: Empathy - Greg Gerwitz x Reader - Greg struggles with his depression.

Tuesday 7th: Long Distance - Peter Stone x Reader - Peter knows he needs to make a decision regarding your relationship.

Wednesday 8th: Homecoming - Mike Duarte x Reader - Mike is a terrible patient.

Thursday 9th: Boundaries - Jimmy Lanik x Reader - Jimmy doesn't appreocate Natalie pushing your boundaries.

Friday 10th: A Sinking Ship - Terry Bruno x Reader - Terry worries about the stress of working in Bronx SVU is putting you under.

Saturday 11th: Truth!Joe Part Three: Safe - Joe Velasco x Reader - Joe has a viseral reaction to returning to the scene of his assault.

Sunday 12th: Therapy Sessions - Nick Amaro x Reader - Nick doesn't realise you also attend his boxing gym.

[nepokisses]

laura   harrier.     she/her.     cis   woman.      ›spotted   at   the   met   steps   ,   alana   davis   ,   most   likely   listening   to   heaven   by   nola   adé   with   their   airpods   pro   .   the   twenty   seven   year   old   gained   quite   a   reputation   ,   known   to   be   -introverted   yet   +humble   to   anyone   who   knows   them   .   you'll   easily   spot   them   when   you   hear   about   a   pair   of   boxing   gloves   ,   late   nights   spent   at   the   local   gym   ,   her   maternal   grandmother's   locket   ,   a   newly   crafted   tiara   ,   followed   by   rihanna   nude   perfume   .   latest   nepoupdates   article   talks   about   newly   crowned   princess   discovered   to   have   a   police   record   due   to   assault   charges   pressed   against   her   in   her   early   20s   ,   but   i   guess   any   reputation   is   good   reputation   .   (   tj   ,   21   ,   they/them   ,   est   .   )

B A S I C S 

full name: alana davis. nicknames: lana. gender:  cis woman. pronouns:  she/her. sexuality:  pansexual. age:  27. date of birth:  september 1st, 1995. zodiac sign:  virgo. birthplace: the bronx, new york. current location: the bronx, new york. residence:  her childhood home - she refuses to move out of the home she grew up in. occupation:  former amateur boxer/ current princess. languages spoken: english, a little spanish.

A P P E A R A N C E

faceclaim:  laura harrier. height:  5’9. build:  toned. eyes:  brown. hair:  naturally dark brunette. piercings:  standard earlobe piercings.  tattoos:  a cherry blossom branch running along her forearm and wrist. other distinguishing features:  smile. style:  casual for the most part, unless she's going to an event or somewhere special. 

P E R S O N A L I T Y

traits:  (+) humble, honest, determined, dedicated , loyal. (-) shy, temperamental, bitter, easily angered , unforgiving.  mental health:  anger management issues, bipolar disorder; medicated.  physical health:  great, very healthy physically. likes:  boxing, video games, sports, art, spicy foods, bratz dolls, live concerts, mma, wine, smoking marijuana.  dislikes:  being antagonized, people who don't respect boundaries, avocados, crowded spaces, groups of people that take up the whole sidewalk, being forced to introduce herself, being in the spotlight, being lied to, being told what to do, mint chocolate chip ice cream.  fears:  losing her autonomy.  phobias:  snakes. hobbies:  boxing, teaching other people how to box, crocheting, reading. skills: crocheting, fighting / boxing, jumping rope / double dutch, computer savvy. quirks:  cracking her knuckles when irritated, avoiding eye contact when feeling shy or nervous, rolling her eyes.

F A V O R I T E S

ice cream flavour:  cookies & cream.  time of the day / night:  late night.  weather:  summer weather.  breakfast food:  waffles, cereal, yogurt.  dinner food:  jerk chicken, beef patties, pasta, rice. colours:  lots of darker, muted colors.  music: nola adé, adele, fka twigs, kehlani, lady gaga, solange, yebba, paramore, hozier, ed sheeran, nirvana, beyoncé, megan thee stallion, sza, samara joy, flo milli, kendrick lamar. 

M I S C E L A N E O U S

a cherished item:  her maternal grandmother's locket, the first pair of boxing gloves her mother bought for her. first love ( celeb crush ):  rider strong, circa boy meets world / ciara usual mood:  neutral. 1 thing they want to do / experience before they die:  have one professional boxing match.  character inspo: rosalie hale ( twilight ), raven ( teen titans ), bonnie bennett ( the vampire diaries ).

B A C K G R O U N D

childhood & adolescence: alana grew up with a single mother in the bronx. her father, whom her mother didn't really speak about often, was never in the picture for her. from a young age, it was quite difficult for her to deal with the fact that she grew up without a dad. she absolutely adored her mother, but being teased by other children for not having both parents in her life caused her a lot of inner turmoil. it didn't help that she was a rather awkward looking child - as most people go through their ugly duckling stages. despite being a shy, introverted girl, alana had a very short tempered fuse - a trait that she inherited from her mother. her peers assumed that her quiet demeanor would make her an easy target for bullying, but she quickly proved them wrong after getting into a scuffle here and there; scuffles where she primarily came out on top. her mother, tired of being called to her school for her fighting bullies, decided that she needed to redirect her short fuse into another avenue; which was when she introduced a ten year old alana to boxing. her mother was an amateur female boxer in her youth, but retired and laid her boxing dreams to rest when she got pregnant with alana. it became quite obvious that the boxing gene was passed onto her, because she took to it like a fish takes to water and fell in love with the sport. throughout middle and high school, alana kept up with her boxing. it became a dream of hers to enter the professional world of boxing. in her mind, she had the perfect path set up for herself. she would graduate, focusing on training full time and eventually open up her own gym dedicated to boxing. as much as she loved the sport, being in the public eye as a famous boxer wasn't something that she was interested in. she just wanted to box without being known by the world.

early & mid twenties: boxing had become a huge part of her life by that point. training for hours everyday, competing in amateur fights here and there. she was saving up money to buy a local gym in her neighborhood when a sudden tragedy struck. her mother passed away not too soon before alana's twenty sixth birthday. it was due to health complications that she didn't share with alana - which broke alana's heart. she was devastated that her mother didn't share her health issues with her, and was angry towards her mother for quite a while after her death for that reason, but months in therapy has helped her start to move past that and let the anger go. all the money she had been saving up to buy the gym had to go towards her mother's funeral arrangements and all other loose ends that needed to be tied up; setting alana back at square one all over again.

current day: alana always thought that she was just a normal girl from the bronx. it came as a hell of a shock to her when she was contacted by her father's side of the family to let her know that not only was her father, and by association herself, royalty, but he was the king of the small european country he resided in - making her a princess. she couldn't believe that her life had turned into some fucked up version of the princess diaries. at first she didn't believe them - but after doing some research of her own and going through old papers that her mother kept stashed and hidden away from her, she learned that it was true.

then her life was flipped upside down once more. suddenly she had security following her around at all times, complete strangers vying for her attention. the royal family and consults are trying to control every aspect of her life - she can't box anymore, she can't do this, she can't do that. it's stifling and overwhelming for her. she never wanted this; she was content with her life, for the most part. now it was a complete circus. the one thing that she's held onto is her childhood home. she refuses to move out, although she knows eventually she might have to give in to her new family's wishes and move into a safer, more secure home. but until then, she's fine with having security roaming around her childhood home, as long as she gets to keep one piece of her old life for now.

C O N N E C T I O N S

ex ( multiple ): alana has had a few significant others in her life; some of them she parted with on friendly terms, others not so friendly.

fwb ( multiple ): self explanatory.

users ( multiple ): people that want to be close to alana due to her status and title.

true friends ( multiple ): people that are actually friends with alana because of who she is, not what she is.

boxing mentee: she's not supposed to be boxing anymore, but this person is interested in picking up a few boxing techniques and moves, and lana can't help but give them a helping hand.

best friend / platonic soulmate: self explanatory.

childhood friend: one of the few kids that didn't try to tease of bully her growing up.

gaming buddy ( multiple ): self explanatory.

sense of calm: one of the few people that can calm alana down when her short fuse explodes.

brother / male presenting sibling ( on father's side ): will be sending this wc into the main, but if you're interesting lmk! we can discuss it.

instigator: this person loves to push alana's buttons until she bites back, because they love seeing how feisty she gets.

[oftatteredwings]

New York City is a big place but [ SHAUN CRAWFORD ], a [ 33 ] year-old [ CIS MAN ] has made it their home in [ RIDGEWOOD, QUEENS ]. In this city you can be anything you want to be and [ HE ] is a [ VETERINARIAN ]. Described by loved ones as [ RESILIENT, CONSCIENTIOUS, AND HUMBLE ] but those wanting to bring them down might say they are [ HOT-HEADED, EASILY INFLUENCED, AND DISTRUSTFUL ] but I guess that is up to everyone else to decide! You never know who you’re going to meet around here, but weirdly they look like  [ WILLIAM MOSELEY ] - what are the odds?

tw: drug abuse, abandonment, homelessness, sex work

ABOUT.

Name: Shaun Crawford Nicknames: Shauny (only by a select few) Age: Thirty-three Date of birth: 23rd April 1989 Occupation: Veterinarian Romantic/sexual orientation: Biromantic/Bisexual Birth place: Hunts Point, The Bronx, New York Current Location: Ridgewood, Queens, New York Time in New York: All his life Face-claim: William Moseley

Shaun was raised in The Bronx in Hunts Point by parents who really shouldn’t have had kids at all. He had a rough childhood, often caught up in his mother’s drug problems, his father absent for the most part. He was joined by a sister at the age of four, something that only caused problems as it was never certain that she actually belonged to his father, too.

As it stood, Shaun and his younger sister were taken away from their bickering parents when she was only two.

Got tossed around the system a lot for the next 10 years or so but pretty much made it his job to look after his sister. He picked up a job as a paperboy as soon as he was old enough to work and start earning his own money.

School was The Actual Worst™ and only made bearable by his best friend, whose house he’d usually hide out at. He fought constantly with anyone who came at him or his sister, which usually only led to trouble.

And then at 18 he found himself homeless. Aging out of the system he found himself with no money and nowhere to go; the fosters they’d been with at the time never having had any interest in adopting the pair of them before it was too late.

Mostly he slept on the street in the year that followed, occasionally sneaking in through his sister’s window wherever she was staying and sleeping on her floor or crashing on the couch at his best friend’s whenever they were back home from college. It was rough as hell, but he got through it.

In the end, he found himself being led down paths he didn’t expect and casual bar work turned to casual nights in strangers beds and being paid for it. There were a lot of drugs involved during that time, mostly narcotics, and he became pretty numb to what was happening to him. The only thing he knew and focused on was the fact he was earning money, money that could help out his sister, too.

Eventually, he got a decent amount of money behind him... and then he got himself clean. Mostly. Things turned around slowly. He had a place in Queens with a couple of roommates and enrolled himself into college.

Certain reckless ways of living may have ended, though he found himself adopting others, picking up boxing at the local gym, finding it a sport he could let off steam in, in a safe and controlled way.

A couple of years later his sister aged out, too, and he came to get her. While attending college, he was working numerous bartending jobs, doing all he could to keep a roof above their heads in what was a tough couple of years.

Finished up college, 5 years in all, and then took on a job as a veterinarian in a clinic not far from where they were living. He likes to think he knows everyone's pets better than they know them themselves, a proper Dr. Dolittle. He’s always loved animals, probably more than humans most of the time. Human’s have never exactly done him any favours. 

He’s living in Queens still, his sister has found a life of her own...  so yeah, you could say things are working out okay now.

HEADCANONS.

He has proper commitment issues. He doesn’t trust anyone and it takes a lot for him to let someone in. In his twenties he did make an effort to date a little, but most relationships he ended up in were very toxic.

Has a lizard named Mohinder, who was so named when Shaun indulged in a week-long Heroes marathon a couple of years back. It was too tempting to pass up.

Looks soft as a brush but actually has quite a loud bark if you mess with his family.

Complete coffee addict, it’s rare to see him without a takeout cup in his hand.

Has been known to take part in underground fights and boxing matches sometimes, although he doesn’t do it too frequently now, focusing on his job instead. He was never exactly very good, but it was a good way to destress.

Kinda has an obsession with Bath and Body Works candles. Don’t ask how many he has, it’s actually unhealthy.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

- younger sister;  - roommate;  - roommate’s from his early 20′s; - ridgewood neighbours; - childhood best friend; kara - childhood friends; - close friends; - exes (mostly of the toxic variety); - past fwb; - one night stands/flings; - past dates (bad/good); - fight club members/people he boxes with; - clients at the vets; amelia - people he slept with when he was doing it for money; anything random you wanna throw my way!

[boroughshq]

(q'd) Red Alert! Staten Island isn't our loneliest borough anymore! Well, technically it still is, but it's now tied for our loneliest borough with the Bronx! That's a first for us, I think! Wanna plan out some characters from one of those two boroughs? Maybe they could own one of the available locations from those boroughs, like our Champion Boxing Gym, or the local vinyl shop, Grooves?

[kiaratobarr]

I attended Echoes and Omens by Sylvia Plachy that was held in the Bronx documentary center. Sylvia documented four decades of cultural happenings. She used five different cameras, including a battered Leica (for news or street work), a Hasselblad (usually for portraits) and a panoramic Widelux (often for parades and (Landscapes), Sylvia broke many rules when taking her photos. She would do anything to capture her photos like pushing past police lines to get into places like boxing gyms and galas. Her photographs capture a time when New York City was both a center of world culture and art and a deeply fractured city because of politics, race, class, corruption and money. As a staff photographer, she collaborated closely with writers including Guy Trebay, Anna Mayo, and James Ridgeway. She is the mother of award-winning actor Adrien Brody who is captured in many of her images because he frequently accompanied Sylvia on her assignments. Something that stood out for me in this exhibition was that all of Sylvia’s photographs were displayed in black and white except for one and it was all the way in the back of the exhibition. I think this was to emphasize the beauty and destruction of the explosion in the photograph. The explosion had super vibrant colors it’s unbelievable that something so negative can be so beautiful. Just like the theme of Sylvia’s other photos. Another thing that stood out to me was how some photos were so happy even tho they were in black and white and others were very sad. Two photos that differed in that way were “backstage at studio 54, New York City, 1983” and “homeless in Chelsea, 1985”.

In the first image it looks like a drag Queen or performer excited to be seeing his audience. The image to the right on the other hand is illustrating a homeless person in New York City. There is no one around them in such a big city which made this exhibition so interesting. How a city could be so beautiful but also full of crime and devastating stories.

[capeverdewire]

Angry Bronx Boxing Gym supporters slam GBA President over poor leadership

http://dlvr.it/SxLD5Z

[melk917]

Snow & Tell

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving), fingering (m receiving), a touch of thigh riding

Rating: E

Pairing: Rafael Barba x f!Reader

WC: 4,864

A/N: This covers the 'Sledding' square for @storiesofsvu holiday bingo.

Super unedited. Like wow. I had a really hard time writing this one for some reason, but it's here! Some fluff, some smut. Getting December started off right. I hope you enjoy!

There were many places Rafael fit in with little to no effort. Everything from the shittiest dives up to high-end cocktail bars, little local bodegas to Michelin star restaurants, the Bronx to Soho...

But there were plenty of places where he stuck out like a sore thumb. Your boxing gym for one. And that horrible EDM club you both had ended up at with your grad school friends. Oh and of course the super grungy comedy club Carisi had dragged everyone to for his birthday last year...And now you had one more to add to the list: a suburban midwest winter with your extended family.

It wasn’t the first time he met your parents, but this was the first time he came home with you for the holidays and was exposed to the whole family. They were loud, they were nosey, and they were all a little more effusive with their affection than he was comfortable with. You were torn between pulling him aside and pressing soft kisses to the stress lines on his face until he relaxed and laughing so hard you were crying every time he threw a look of fear your way when he was cornered by another aunt or uncle or cousin.

Things only got worse as the family traditions started piling up. There was the pie making night where your aunt managed to get an apron over his head before he could protest that he was better at eating pie than making it. And the early morning wake up calls from your grandmother, poking her head into your room and cheerfully suggesting it was time for breakfast, and to get up before it was gone. But he had rolled with it with minimal grumbling (well not so minimal when he was woken up by an overly-cheerful woman hours before he would have wanted to be all while wedged between you and the wall in your tiny childhood bed). But this… this last one he was putting his foot down. Or at least making his case for why he should get out of it.

“I don’t have the right clothes,” he told you as you sat down to pull on your snow boots. You looked up at him, taking in the deep green cashmere sweater and dark fitted jeans he had on, all the way down to the purple socks with thin green stripes.

“You don’t need anything special, Raf. It’s sledding. Just put your coat and boots on.” You toed his out from under the bench. Even these were a stylish pair of duck hunting boots vs. your bulky, waterproof monstrosities.

He eyed them, brow furrowing and chewing on his lip. He tried again. “My coat isn’t waterproof.”

You stood up, boots laced, and rested your hands on sides, stroking him through the softness of the sweater and smirked up at him. “Well, then I won’t push you into a snowbank.”

He frowned.

“Come on,” you wheedled, sliding closer into his personal space and slipping your fingers under his sweater to tease along the waistband of his jeans. He shivered and leaned a bit into your grip. “I’ve got a thermos filled with an extra strong hot toddy and, when everyone is distracted with the snow, we can sneak off into the trees and make out. I’ll even let you stick your hands inside my coat if they get too cold.”

His eyes dropped to your lips and his hands came up to rest on your hips, uncertain if he wanted to pull you closer or push you away. “I don’t know...You should spend some quality time with your family. I’m happy to give that to you.”

The smirk fell from your face. “I wanted that quality time with you, too.”

His eyebrows pinched together and he flinched at your tone. Sighing, he dropped his head to your shoulder and pressed his nose to your neck. “Cheater. Fine. Pass me my coat.”

30 minutes out in the hills behind your house and you almost felt bad for having guilted Rafael into coming with you. He stood off to the side, shoulders up around his ears, gloved hands clutching at the thermos of hot toddy like it was a lifeline, nose practically dipping into the liquid it’s so buried in the steam curling from the top. His hat jammed down around his ears, expensive down coat zipped up to cover his chin, and he was shivering.

He looked utterly miserable. And a little adorable.

Your younger cousins were screaming and yelling as they went down the hill time after time, shrieking with laughter as they hit bumps and went flying off their sleds and into the snow drifts that had piled up. Even you weren’t spared, taking a fistful of snow to the face in a mock snowball fight.

You managed to get away, breathless and laughing as you slid up behind Rafael, wrapping your arms around him and shoving your cold fingers under both his coat and his sweater, making him yelp and squirm away.

He turned a furious glare on you, cheeks pink from the cold.

You grabbed the front of his jacket before he could speak and tugged him close, shoving your hands in his pockets instead and leaning up to kiss him softly. “Sorry,” you whispered against his lips, a curl of a tease threading through. “Cold hands, warm heart.”

He huffed against your lips, leaning back quickly, eyes darting to the rest of your family, occupied on the hill.

“Hey,” you tugged him closer again, corners of your mouth twitching up. “I think the cat’s out of the bag that I like you. A kiss isn’t going to shock them.”

The pink across his cheeks deepened and he shifted in your hold, tugging back. “With you, I never trust that it’s just a kiss.”

You laughed and shrugged. “You’re a hard man to resist.”

His eyebrows were still knit together in disapproval, but the corner of his mouth twitched up in a pleased little smile.

“Hey! The big hot shot city boy still hasn’t taken a turn!” Your uncle’s voice boomed out from the bottom of the hill. The smile immediately dropped from Rafael’s face, mouth pressed in a thin line. You turned to look down as your uncle was running up the hill, cheap plastic sled under one arm. He slowed to a stop in front of you, grinning, breathless, holding it out for you to take.

Rafael made a noise behind you as you laughed and took the sled, turning to wiggle it at him invitingly, eyes wide and grinning.

He eyed the molded plastic in your hand and shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

You pouted, wedging the bottom edge in the snow so you could lean on it. “We’ll go down together. I’ll even steer since it's your first time.”

Rafael frowned. “There is no way we both fit on that.”

You nudged it with your knee until it dropped flat, stepping on the edge to keep it steady, and gesturing to the back end. “You sit first, and I'll sit between your legs. It’ll be nice and cozy.”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Hey, you didn’t seem to mind getting cozy just a second ago.” Your uncle let out a booming laugh, nudging Rafael with his elbow and winking at him in a way that was intended to be friendly, but only deepened his frown.

You grabbed his sleeve and tugged him closer, pouting ever so slightly. “Come on, one trip down the hill? Just for me? And you can cross it off your bucket list.”

“What makes you think this was on my bucket list?” He muttered, but let himself be pulled closer.

You tugged more until he was pressed as close as his puffy coat would allow. “Well maybe it's on mine. Doing this with you.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes to the sky. “Fine.”

You grinned.

Rafael had been right about one thing: together, the sled was a tight fit. He had settled as far back as he could without his ass hanging off the end, legs spread to either side, knees bent. You wedged yourself in between as best you could, legs under you, the curve of your ass tucked up against his hips.

He leaned forward, chest pressed against your back, arms tight around your waist as you grabbed the string at the front and started to wiggle, rocking back and forth to loosen the snow underneath.

“You owe me one of those extra sloppy blow jobs when we get home.” Rafael muttered in your ear as you started a slow slide down the hill, his breath curling hot and humid over your skin. “Absolutely filthy.”

You laughed and wiggled your hips against his, draping your arms over his bent legs to keep him in close as the sled moved. “Go down with me another time after this and you can come all over my face, too.”

His breath puffed warm across your jaw as he let out a low rumble in response and squeezed you tighter as you rocked forward one more time and you were moving forward, tipping over the crest of the hill.

You laughed, loud and bright, as the sled started to pick up speed. Your cousins and uncle were cheering loudly, as you hit a small bump and the sled gained a few inches of altitude, and Rafael’s arms tightened around you painfully. His face was buried in your neck as the wind whipped across your cheeks, and you felt every lump and bump in the snow as you sped over it, kicking up snow on either side.

You were grinning, reveling in the sharp, cold air, and the warmth of Rafael wrapped around you, his breath damp on the tiny stretch of skin showing over your coat. He lifted his head and his hold tightened even more, breathing in sharply. The bottom of the hill was coming up fast, and you pulled up on the strings that directed the front, trying to slow things down before you hit the straightaway but your combined weight increased your velocity beyond what you anticipated.

Rafael choked and scrambled to grab the string as well, adding his upper body strength to yours.

You laughed even as he seemed to hold his breath. “Stop—it’s fine! It’s—”

“It’s too fast—” his voice had taken on a slightly hysterical edge, and he yanked particularly hard as you hit a dip, spinning the back of the sled out as you gained altitude and sending both of you tumbling over the side and into a snowbank.

You were laughing still, breathless with amusement and the impact, as you struggled to sit up, brushing snow from your face and hair. Kneeling up you looked over to see Rafael completely sprawled out on his back, half covered in snow, arms flailing as he tried to sit up, only to sink even further. It was the least dignified you had ever seen him and you collapsed forward, choking on your own laughter.

He grunted and rolled to his side, struggling up on his hands and knees, looking murderous. He’d lost his hat somewhere in the crash and his hair was packed with ice and sticking up in all directions, face a brilliant red with both the cold and embarrassment.

You were hiccuping, tears at the corners of your eyes as you crawled forward to grab his flailing arm and tug, getting him right-side up. He wobbled, and for a split second seemed like he’d get his feet under him, before the snow shifted and he ended up face planting. You could hardly breathe, collapsing under your own amusement as he reared back, sputtering, shaking snow from his face.

This time you managed to get your feet under you and, grasping his hands, pulled both of you to your feet. He was soaked, snow packed into the tops of his boots, the collar of his jacket, even in his pockets. It had started to melt where it was packed against his skin, dripping down to soak into his sweater under his coat. He looked miserable.

You struggled to bite back your smile as he scowled at you. You reached up to brush snow from his hair and collar, cupping the side of his face with your cold fingers. “In my defense, I still didn’t push you into the snowbank…”

He huffed, tugging out of your grip. He opened his mouth to probably demand additional sexual favors in payment, but before he could get the words out his face scrunched and he sneezed. Loudly.

“Uh oh.” His eyes were wide, nose red and starting to drip more than just melting snow. You slid your arm around his back and started to tug back towards the house. “Come on. Let's get you inside and dried off before you get sick.”

He dug his heels in and tried to turn a glare on you but the effect was ruined as his face contorted and he sneezed again. Twice, in rapid succession. Shoulders drooping in resignation, he sighed and dropped his head.

“If I get sick, I will never forgive you.” He muttered as you pulled him in close and guided him back to the house.

“Well then, let's get you warmed up.”

------------

Warming up in this case meant stripping both of you of all your wet clothes and shooing him up to the bathroom for a hot shower while you laid out your clothes to dry in the laundry room, trading him a fluffy robe for his cashmere sweater so he wouldn’t have to make a run through the house in his underwear.

He had resisted at first, refusing just to be contrary, but another sneeze won your argument for you, and you could now hear the running shower as you paused outside the bathroom door, water almost covering the sound of his sigh as he stood under the hot spray.

You knocked and cracked the door open. “Hey, Raf, it’s me.”

He grunted in acknowledgment and you slipped in, shutting the door behind you. The room was humid and filled with curls of steam, thick enough that you could only see the suggestion of Rafael’s naked body through the glass of the shower doors, water and suds slipping over the curves of his biceps as he rinsed his hair, sliding down his back and over the curve of his ass. Your heart beat faster at the sight, temperature rising despite the cold air. You bit your lip and threw the lock.

Loosening the tie on your robe, you let it fall to the floor before cracking the shower door open just enough to sneak in behind him, closing it before you could let in too much cold air. He shivered anyway, and you pressed forward, up against all that tempting wet skin as it started to flush a pretty copper under the heat of the spray.

He froze, body stiff against you as you ran your hands down his back, following the soap suds as they traced their path down. “What are you doing?” He shivered as your cold fingers curled around his sides.

“I thought you could use some help warming up again,” you said, tugging him back against you and pressing your face to the side of his neck. You let your hands wander over his chest and belly, soothing the tension in his frame until he sighed softly and leaned back against you, the spray of the shower heating his front while you warmed his back. You ran your fingers through the wet curls of his chest hair, over the curve of his pecs, appreciating the solid strength of him in a way you hadn’t been able to in days, deprived of true privacy, even at night. You traced the line of hair down his sternum and over the curve of his belly before scraping your nails lightly along the line of his hips, making him shudder against you with a soft gasp.

You leaned up to press a kiss behind his ear and he huffed out a breath, tilting his neck to grant you more access as he tangled his fingers with yours where they rested low on his hips, holding them there. You ran your lips down the side of his neck to his shoulder, nipping at the muscle just to hear him gasp and press back against you.

“C’mere,” you husked against his ear, tugging him to turn and face you. “Let me make up for the snow drift.” You leaned up to kiss him, one hand cupping his face as you licked into his mouth, swallowing the soft noise he made against your lips. You breasts brushed against his chest and you shivered as wet skin slid over wet skin, curling your fingers in the short hairs at the back of his neck and tugging. He made a soft noise, hands sliding up your sides, fingers tracing along your spine.

You pressed forward, a smirk curling at the corner of your mouth as you crowded up against him and walked him back until he was pressed against the cool tiles. Your hands dropped to his sides, stroking lightly and he shivered. A sly smile spread across your face as his cheeks flushed further and you could feel him start to harden against your hip. You rolled yours down along the line of his cock, earning a shaky exhale as his eyes slipped shut.

“Wha-what about your family?” he murmured, hands coming to rest on your hips, not quite guiding your movements, but not stopping the motion either as you undulated against him.

“Mmm, they’re all either outside or at my grandmother’s house.” You ducked your head to brush a kiss along his jaw before chasing the rivulets of water that ran from his hair down the slope of his neck with your tongue. You sucked lightly where they pooled in the dip of his collarbone and he swallowed around the moan that threatened to shake loose. “This might be the only time I get you alone in the house while we’re here. Let me get my hands on you.”

His breath caught as you scraped your teeth along his collarbone at the same time as you rolled your hips again, the water and suds slicking the thrust of his cock against you. He shivered and his grip on your hips tightened.

You ran your lips up his neck, nuzzling behind his ear before taking the lobe between your teeth and tugging, earning a soft groan and the jerk of his hips against you. “C’mon Raf. Let me warm you up.”

He breathed out long and low, meeting your gaze, his own hooded and heavy as you continued to rock down against him, feeling him twitch and swell. You ground down as you pressed the edge of your teeth to that same spot behind his ear, working it with lips and tongue, worrying this skin until you brought blood to the surface and every breath he took had the curl of a whine in it.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, head falling back as he rolled his hips up against you. “Yes, ok. Yes.”

You pressed your triumphant smile to the mark you had worked in his skin before pulling back and sliding to your knees, the water beating against your back as he trembled at your front, watching you through hazy eyes.

He was fully hard now, cock flushed and heavy between his legs, and you couldn’t stop the needy whimper that slipped from your lips as you came level with it. You leaned forward, hands braced on his thighs, to nuzzle along the length, pressing your face into his low abdomen and breathing deep. He smelled of the woodsy body wash he had been using, undercut by something that was uniquely him, musky and clean with a hint of sex as precum started to gather at the tip. You groaned, heat flaring in you that had nothing to do with the steam or the shower.

He shivered as you dipped lower to nuzzle at his balls, tongue flicking out to lick up the seam before placing a wet, open mouthed kiss at the base of his cock. His hands flexed, fluttering forward to hover over your shoulders before pulling back to rest at his sides, fingers twitching. You glanced up through your lashes to see him watching you, pupils blown, lips parted, flush starting to spread down his chest.

Holding his gaze you poked your tongue out, tracing the vein that ran along his cock from root to tip before teasing it against his slit. He shuddered at the sensation, more precum welling up to bead at the tip before spilling over to drip down the crown. You ducked forward to capture the drops, licking them up before pressing a damp kiss to the head of his cock and moaning at the taste of him.

He breathed out hard, hips arching towards your mouth as the vibrations from your moan traveled down his length, curling behind his balls. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his hands wound through your hair, tangling in the wet strands to cup the back of your head, thumbs stroking along your hairline in a gentle caress.

“You know,” you murmured against the velvet skin of his cock as you reached up to grasp him tight at the base and gave him a single, firm tug that had him tightening his hands in your hair and pulling, sending sparks of pleasure shivering down your spine.

“You’ve been so good, so sweet the last few days, putting up with my family, the twin bed, the sledding…” You tightened your index finger and thumb around the crown as you twisted at the top, pulling a groan from deep in Rafael’s chest, his head dropping back to rest on the tiles, as you worked the tight ring of your fingers of the sensitive skin just under the head.

“I want to show you how much I appreciate it. How much I appreciate you.” You gave him another slow, tight pull that had him shaking in your grasp, thighs flexed against the urge to thrust into your grip. “Please?”

His head was tilted back against the tiles, throat working as he swallowed and groaned as you brushed your lips over the sensitive crown again, humming. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and he let out a long, shuddering breath. “Yes, God, please. Please. Whatever you want.”

You gave him a slow, sweet smile and a gentle kiss to the head. “Just let me make you feel better.” You murmured, rubbing your thumb along the prominent vein as you teased him with your tongue. He was flushed a deep red now, lips swollen from biting, and completely on the precipice after days of holding back.

He cried out as you took him deep, swallowing around his length, hollowing your cheeks on the way up. Even on the first pass, you could feel his legs start to tremble like they did when he got close. You gripped and kneaded the muscle in his thigh as you bobbed your head, working your fist in counterpoint to your mouth when you couldn’t take him all.

He swallowed a groan and gave a small abortive thrust of his hips. You stroked his thigh soothingly, hand running up to his hip and back around the generous swell of his ass. You took him a little deeper on the next pass and he choked on a bitten off yell, pulling hard on your hair as his cock hit the back of your throat while you swallowed around him and your fingers slipped over the curve of his ass to play at the dip between his cheeks.

You choked at the unexpected intrusion, breathing through your nose to control your gag reflex and pulled off with an obscene pop. “Do you want it, Raf? Want me to finger you with your cock in my throat?”

He was breathing harshly through his nose, biting at his lip and gasping as you rubbed lightly at his hole and kept up your firm pulls on his cock.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned as you dipped to lick messily over the head, curling your tongue to get all the precum that’s starting to drip in a steady stream as you played with him.

“Please?” You pouted up at him. His eyes were wide, dark and desperate, as he looked down at you, stroking your wet hair with shaking fingers. His eyebrows pinched together and his mouth fell open as you pressed just the tip of your finger inside, dragging a groan from deep in his chest, rough and low.

“God, yes, yes please I want it. Please.”

You moaned in response, taking his cock back into your mouth. You worked him desperately now, spurred on by the gasps and moans and whines falling from his lips as he spread his legs wider, gaining leverage to thrust forward into your mouth and then back onto your fingers. You’re hardly able to breach him, just the tips of two fingers, and hardly past the first knuckle, but it’s enough to make him desperate, bringing him to the edge incredibly fast.

His hands were tight in your hair, and his cock hot against your tongue, seeming to grow impossibly harder and longer as he thrust back and you took him to the hilt, nose brushing his pubic bone. You gagged and swallowed and as you pulled back you looked up to see him, head thrown back, eyes scrunched closed, a beautiful flush all the way down his chest. He was past words, only able to gasp and whine as you gripped him tighter, jacking him quickly while you sucked particularly hard on the head. He cried out then, voice echoing in the bathroom in a way that should have concerned you, but he was thrusting back hard on your hand, forcing you to slip in to the next knuckle as you worked him with your mouth. And then he was coming, cock twitching, cum filling your mouth as he gripped your hair and held you there, grinding back on your fingers as he shook and trembled and fell apart.

You swallowed it down, taking everything he had to give. Even when you pulled off, you gripped him tight, milking the last drops out and across your lips even as he whined and jerked, moving into oversensitivity.

Licking your lips you hummed at the salty taste of him. With gentle fingers, you stroked and rubbed long, soothing lines over his trembling thighs. Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to his hip bone before pulling yourself to your feet and boxing him in where he slumped against the back wall of the shower.

His eyes were still shut, breath coming unevenly as his heart rate slowed. He shivered and hummed as you pressed close, his arms sliding around you to pull you against him. You nuzzled under his jaw and pressed a kiss to the mark you had left behind his ear.

“Feeling sufficiently warm now?” you murmured. He huffed a laugh and turned to brush his lips over your cheek, his eyes still closed.

“Yes, I think you’ve managed to get my body temperature back up.”

“Good,” you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth as you shifted your hips and sighed, spreading your legs so you were straddling his thigh. “Because I think I still need a little help here.”

“Oh?” His eyes were open now, pupils still blown wide as his hands came to your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles over the sensitive skin. You shivered and he gripped harder, encouraging your motion as you rolled down against him, your mouth falling open as you ground yourself against his thigh. “I think I can help with that…”

You slid your hands up his sides, one curving over his pec while the other slid into his hair, pulling him down so you could kiss him, slow and deep as he pressed his leg up, flexing this muscle against you and you rocked down, friction against your clit sending sparks along your nerves and making you shudder. One of his hands dropped from your hip, curling around to slip between your legs when there was a loud banging on the door followed by your sister’s voice.

“I swear to God, I’m not covering for you with Mom, so you better get out of there in the next five minutes, or she’s going to have a lot of opinions.”

You were lucky you were already mostly standing, or you would have ended up falling on your ass, Rafael backed off so quickly, eyes wide and panicked.

You groaned, head falling back, denied your own release.

“You fucking owe me.” Your sister continued. “Both of you.”

Well. So much for making it up to him. Rafael looked mortified, eyes wide, mouth pressed into a thin line, pleasured flush now a mottled, angry red.

You laughed weakly and shrugged. He glared. Oops.

------------

Tag list! (join or edit here)

@madpanda75, @alwaysachorusgirl, @detective-giggles, @dianilaws, @detectivebarba, @objection-argumentative, @prurientpuddlejumper, @designersophisticate, @thatesqcrush, @greeneyedblondie44, @ashtheironbat, @chasingeverybreakingwave, @crowfootwrites, @dreamlover31, @barbabangme, @amelia-song-pond, @witches-unruly-heart, @darkheart-brightsmile, @mrsrafaelbarba, @ellevandeberg, @simpforbarba

[sunmoonandeddie]

saturdays

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,467

summary: Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

warnings: Some swearing

a/n:  This was my March 2020 one shot for my Patreon that they received early access to.  Let me know what y’all think!

Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

Sundays are for sleeping in before eventually making his way to Brooklyn, where he picks up three bouquets and an egg, bacon, and cheese breakfast sandwich from Sal’s bodega before going to the cemetery.  He sits against his sister’s tombstone—his parents’ to his right—and eats his late breakfast.  He sits and talks for a few hours before leaving the flowers on their graves.  He always has to have peonies, since those were Becca’s favorites.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are for training.  He wakes up at five in the morning to go running with Sam, something he thought would end when Steve went back to be with Peggy Carter.  But he wasn’t bitter.  No.

But which thing he wasn’t bitter about, he’d never tell.

Along with the run, he spends most of the day sparring and battling simulations in the gym.  He has short breaks for meals, but he pretty much is on go until after dinner, when he goes straight to bed.

But Fridays are his favorite.  Because he gets to sleep in until nine-thirty in the morning, which is a luxury he’s not used to.  Then Sam and him grab a late breakfast together before Bucky goes into the city for his therapy session.

And Bucky likes his therapist!  Which he was really, really surprised about!  But Marlene is good.  Marlene is good because she doesn’t placate him.  She calls him out on his shit, and pushes him forward.  Because if it had been up to him, he would’ve stopped seeing her after their third meeting, when she had him drawing with fucking crayons that snapped in his hand way too easily.  But it’s been over a year since he started seeing her, and even though he still has his bad days, his bad days now would’ve been his best days before.

“So, you think you’re finally ready to go through Rebecca’s things?” Marlene asks, looking at him with a peaceful expression.

“I don’t think so, I am,” he says firmly, feeling a rush of triumph as a smile spreads across her lips.  “It’s time, you know?”

She nods in understanding, humming.  “Do you have someone going with you?”

Usually, Sam would go with him for things like this, and just in general.  They were attached at the hip, especially after the whole Steve leaving thing.

Yeah, they were both hit pretty hard with that.

“Yes, but I…”  He sighs, rubbing his hands on his jeans.  “I think this is something I need to do alone.  At least, the going through her stuff part…  But he is going with me to move the stuff to the Tower.”

“Good, good,” she says, her brows slightly furrowed.  “And how are you feeling today about Steve leaving?”

Bucky lets out a huff of air, taking a moment to think about it.  “To be completely honest with you…  I’m kind of over it today.  I have other things to do and yeah, I would’ve liked him to be here for it, but that’s not how it is.  And him leaving is more about him than it is about me.”  He shrugs, his lips pressed into a thin line.  “Just because he decided to go back doesn’t mean he wanted to leave me.”

Marlene sets her clipboard to the side, a warm smile on her face.  “Well, Bucky, I think we’ll end today on that thought.”  She stands up, offering her hand for him to shake as she does everyday.  “You’ve done well today.  You should be proud of yourself.”

He leaves with a wave and a “See you next week!” as he always does.

He hadn’t known about the storage unit full of his sister’s stuff until about eight months ago, when he asked Maria Hill if there was anything left of hers.  He knew that SHIELD had been the ones to take control of her assets when she had no children, since she was the sister of a Howling Commando and the best friend of Captain America.

Becca had died in December of 2013.  He’d missed her by less than six months.

It was heartbreaking when he first found out, and still is, if he was being honest.  But at least he has her stuff to go through, even though he has no idea what all is going to be in the storage unit.  Stevie hadn’t had anything other than what the Smithsonian had snatched up.

The car ride to the storage facility is quiet, Sam at the wheel.  Bucky still hasn’t gotten his license, since he doesn’t see a point.  Why should he when there’s the subway and Uber and even just good old fashioned walking?  “You’ve gotta save the Earth, Sam,” he says when he really feels like irritating the other man.

“You sure you’re ready for this, man?” Sam asks as they stand in front of storage unit 429.

“Yeah,” Buck says, punching in the key code and lifting up the door.  “Yeah, I’m ready.”  He flips the light switch on the wall, and is shocked by just how much stuff there is.  There’s boxes upon boxes upon boxes.

Sam’s hands go to his hips as he looks at it, whistling.  “Alright.  Let’s get it loaded.”

It takes several hours and three trips to get everything from the storage unit to the Tower, and by the end of it, the both of them just collapse on the couch with a couple of beers and a pizza to share between them.

But Saturday morning comes bright and early, and even though it’s his only day out of the week where he has absolutely nothing to do, Bucky knows he has to start going through her things.

The first four boxes are just clothes.  Clothes upon clothes upon clothes.  He finds a baby blue dress that she used to wear for church, starched to perfection, and he holds it to his chest for a long time.  He cries then.

And he knows that the fact that she’s hoarded so many clothes has a lot to do from growing up during the Depression.  He still finds himself falling into old habits of checking the price of food, despite the fact that he never has to worry about money again with his Avengers salary and the backpay from being a POW.

He finds his parents’ wedding rings, and the string of pearls his ma wore for special occasions.

And then he finds an old shoe box, and when he opens it up, he finds letters.  Letters upon letters upon letters.  They’re in bundles, tied together with fraying ribbon.  The paper is yellowed and soft from being folded and unfolded so many times, and he can see the looping black letters that covered the pages.

He takes the ones that look the oldest and unties them, he takes the top one from the stack and sets the rest to the side, before carefully unfolding it.

“Ruthie,” he says quietly as he reads the name at the bottom, not even bothering to read it yet.  “Ruthie…”  His eyes pop open as he suddenly remembers, remembers receiving letters everyday from a girl in the Bronx.  They were never romantic, but it was nice being able to write to someone and not having to hide how bad it was, like he had to with his ma and Becca.  She even sent her picture once, so he could know who he was writing to.  “Ruthie!”

He spends the rest of the day reading the letters, and passes out sometime around four in the morning with his face on a letter.  He takes the letters with him to his family’s graves the next day, reading to them after he replaces the flowers.

It takes him two more days to finish reading all the letters, in between breaks while training and staying up until he absolutely can’t.

He cries a lot while he reads it.  He’s not afraid to admit that.  But it’s nice to remember that he had a friend to listen to him during one of the worst times of his life.

Bucky’s almost afraid to look her up, to find out if she was still alive, and if he could go see her, to thank her.  They wrote back and forth until the day he fell off the train, and he knows that had to be pretty jarring for her.

But then Sam finds out about the letters—it would be hard for him not to, considering that he was walking around with his nose in the letters for days—and it’s all over.

Turns out, she’s alive.  She’s alive, and she’s still in Queens.

He goes the next Saturday, taking his bike all the way to the other borough.  He looks a little intimidating and extremely different from how he looked back then, but he hopes she recognizes him.  He really, really hopes she recognizes him, because otherwise this’ll be real awkward.

He stands in front of the door for a long time, taking his hands in and out of his pockets about eight times before he finally reaches up and knocks.

And then the door opens, and there’s Ruthie.

Well, not Ruthie, though at first glance, you’re the perfect picture of her.  You’ve got her hair and her eyes, and the curve of her lips.  But the nose is different.

“Can I help you?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.  You’re wiping your hand on a hand towel, peering at him like you recognize him from somewhere but you don’t know where.

“Hi, uh,” he says slowly.  His throat is suddenly so dry that he can barely talk.  “I’m Bucky.  Bucky Barnes.  I was pen pals with—”

He’s cut off by Ruthie herself appearing in the doorway.  She’s much older—she is ninety-nine, after all—but it’s definitely her.  “Did you say Bucky Barnes?”  The little old lady’s eyes widened as she saw him, her hand over her heart.  “Oh, my stars, it’s really you.  I heard about what happened to you, and I…”  She shakes her head, clicking her tongue.  “Why, it almost gave me a heart attack, you know.”

“Little Ruthie Pratt from Queens,” he says, reaching in his pocket and holding up the letters.  “I found these while, uh, going through my sister’s stuff.”

“I still have mine!” Ruthie says, pulling him inside.

It’s nice and homey and everything that Bucky had thought it would be.  The front foyer is covered in photos, and there’s quite a few of you.  You’re clearly one of Ruthie’s pride and joys, if the sheer amount of them has anything to do about it.

“I used to read these to my grandbaby here,” Ruthie says as she comes back with an old oak jewelry box in hand.  “Anytime she stayed the night—her parents worked a lot when she was growing up—she always asked me to read her one of my ‘Bucky letters.’”

“Grandmama,” you say, cheeks flushing as you avoid his eyes.

“It was so cute!  She used to recite them word for word along with me!” Ruthie teases as they go to the living room.

It’s quaint, with soft pastel colors dominating the room.  He sits on a floral sofa that’s got a circle with dark hair on it, the marking of a furry friend’s favorite spot.  He watches as you move to the kitchen, grabbing a pitcher of what looks like tea and a few glasses.

You sit beside her with the ease of knowing that you belong here, pouring yourself a glass.  “Grandmama, do you want some tea?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she opens the box and looks for the oldest one.  “You keep that monstrosity away from me,” she says.  Seemingly remembering Bucky’s presence, she says, “My daughter’s husband is from Louisiana.  Ridiculous man got both her and my grandbaby addicted to that absolute sludge.”

The secret smile you give him as the two of you listen to her tirade about sweet tea makes him feel at ease, and sets the tone for the rest of the afternoon.

Things go on as normal, or as normal as they can.

And Marlene happens to think that all of this is absolutely fantastic for him.  She loves that he’s now spending time with Ruthie and you, reconnecting with his past while understanding that he doesn’t have to be the person he was in the letters.

He’s different.  He’s not the Bucky that Ruthie knew back then.

It’s an unusually warm day in November four months later when he takes you out for a coffee, just the two of you.  And it isn’t a date—really, it isn’t—but he finds himself wanting it to be about halfway through his second coffee.

And that’s why he starts talking about dating to Marlene, who had, quite frankly, been waiting for him to realize his feelings for a while.

“I think I’m in love with her,” he says as he storms into his therapy session, eyes wild and hair a disarray.  He’s clearly been worrying real hard about it.

Marlene looks up at him, peering over the silver rim of her glasses.  “Oh, really?” She says nonchalantly, as though she doesn’t have you in her notes about him.  “And why is that?”

Bucky can’t help the frown on his face as he realizes that she didn’t even ask who he was talking about, because she knew.  “I…  I don’t know,” he says, slumping into his usual chair.  “She makes me happy.  Happier than I’ve ever been.  And she always makes me laugh, even at the most inappropriate of times.”  His gaze softens the more he thinks about you.  “And she isn’t scared of me.  She doesn’t judge me.  She’s read about everything I did in the war, even before HYDRA, and she doesn’t care.”  His hands are sweating as he rubs them together.  “Actually, it’s not that she doesn’t care—she does care—but she cares because she… she loves me.”

You love him.  And sure, he knows that.  You’ve said that you love him multiple times, even if you only mean it as a friend way.

But the thought that he has someone who loves him that doesn’t have to is… groundbreaking.

“She loves me, and she wants me to be okay,” he says, looking up at Marlene then.

His therapist has a pleased look in her eyes, even if she won’t let it show with a smile.  “I think she’s good for you,” she says simply, her pen held loosely in her hand.  “Are you seeing her again soon?”

“I’m seeing her tomorrow night,” he says, his heart growing light.  “We’re grabbing a few drinks to celebrate her finally graduating from cosmetology school.”

It’s a big deal for you, completely something.  You’re smart, there’s no denying that, but when it comes to schooling…  You’d done well in high school, but college proved to be the bane of your existence.

You’d dropped out in the middle of your junior year, and that had been it.  You’d moved to Queens to live with Ruthie after, working various low level jobs and trying to find something that fit.

But you’d fit in at cosmetology school.  Hell, you excelled.  And you enjoyed it!  You enjoyed waking up in the morning and going to your classes!

You cried when you got your certificate, and it was now framed in Ruthie’s house until you start your first salon job in two weeks.

“Are you going to tell her about your feelings?” Marlene asks curiously.

Now that makes him pause.

“... Should I?” Bucky asks, feeling a wave of anxiety coming over him.  “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?  And she sees me as just a friend?”

“If she’s really your friend, she won’t abandon you just because you tell her you have romantic feelings for her.”

“You sure about that?”

Marlene fixes him with a look, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

He runs his tongue over his teeth.  “Fine.  You’re sure,” he says, slumping a little in his chair.  “Doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

She snorts, making a note on her pad.  “I never said it was going to be easy, Bucky.  Doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

The next night, he spends an hour and a half trying to decide what to wear.  “It shouldn’t be this hard,” he grumbles as he switches shirts for the forty-ninth time.  “It’s just drinks.”

Sam, however, is having a great time watching his new best friend freak out over seeing a girl for the first time.  “I mean, she already agreed to going out with your ugly mug, man.  It’s not gonna matter what you wear.”

And in some way, that helps.  A little.

But he does have to threaten Sam with bodily harm if he spies on his date that’s not really a date.

He almost boxes him the ear when he insists for the fourth time that it’s a date.

He shows up at your door with a bouquet of flowers from Sal’s bodega, the buttons of his dark blue henley left open, exposing a smattering of chest hair.

When you open the door, the air is knocked from his lungs.  You look absolutely radiant.  The light from the sinking sun is giving you a halo-like glow, and he’s sure, not for the first time, that you’re an actual angel.

“Hi,” you say, a flush on your cheeks as you see the flowers.  “Are those…  Are those for me?”

He nods dumbly, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.  “Y-Yes,” he says, pushing them into your arms.  “As a congrats.  For, you know, graduating.  And stuff.”

“Thank you,” you say as you take them, handing them to Ruthie.

She’s standing just inside the door, a giddy look on her face as she holds the flowers, watching you take the motorcycle helmet from his hands.  “Have her back by twelve!”

“Grandmama!”

“Fine!  Twelve-thirty!”

You’re clearly embarrassed by her antics as he helps you on behind him, guiding your arms around his waist.

“You ready?” He asks, his voice breathy.

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, wrapping your arms tighter around him as he starts the bike, taking off.

“She doesn’t actually mean that,” you say as he leads you into the tiny, out of the way bar.  You’re fixing your hair, trying your best to appear presentable.  “I’m grown, you know.  I don’t…  I don’t have a curfew.”

A slow smile spreads over his lips as he listens to you ramble.  “I know,” he says finally, figuring he should put you out of your misery.  “Ruthie does like to tease those she loves.”

The bar is quaint, clearly a local place that tourists haven’t invaded.  He leads you to a high table, calling out your order to the lone bartender.

“So, I—”

“I like you,” Bucky says, unintentionally cutting you off with a wince.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I really, really like you, and I really, really want this to be a date, but if you don’t feel the same way then I completely understand and we can just forget that I ever said anything and everything can just go back to normal and that might be the best thing because, quite frankly, I haven’t dated since the forties and I have no idea how dating is supposed to work nowadays, but I’d really like to try it with you but only if you—”

His rambling is cut off as you place your hand on his, intertwining your fingers.  “Okay,” you say, like it’s the easiest thing ever.  “It’s a date.”

He stares at you for an embarrassingly long time, his mouth dry.  “Uh…  What?” He says quietly.  His heart is pounding at an unnaturally fast pace, and he honestly thinks he might be on the verge of a heart attack.

“I like you, too,” you say, smiling at the bartender as he brings you over your drinks.  You look so beautiful, your eyes the brightest thing in the dim lighting of the bar.  “So this is a date.”

“Okay,” he breathes out, a wave of relief washing over him.  “It’s a date.”

He’s a little starstruck as you continue on with what you were going to say before, a pink blush dusting his cheeks.  Your hand stays in his for the rest of the night, occasionally giving a little squeeze as though you’re reminding him that you’re still there and you’re not going to disappear.

And it feels good.

And okay, Marlene may have been right.

And yeah, Fridays might be good.  But as he sits there with you until the late hours of the night, he’s sure: Saturdays are his new favorite day.  Because Saturdays brought him a new beginning when he wasn’t expecting it.

[sunflowersteves]

bloody & bruised || subway fiasco

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Boxer!Reader

𝒄𝒉. 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You meet an entitled asshole on the subway before training. After training, Shuri asks you to go get drinks with her. What happens when that same entitled asshole owns the bar?

Author’s Note: So, this series is completely new and improved. I decided to start completely fresh and recreate it. I hope you all enjoy, I’m happier with this series!

Warnings: swearing, asshole!bucky

series m.list // m.list

You entered the Metropolitan Correctional Center in lower Manhattan. You signed in, noticing the girl at the front desk popping her gum annoyingly loud. She never spared you a look as she spoke, “visitor?” You replied which then she continued to not give a fuck about your presence and hit the button that opened the gate. You greeted the guard and put your personal belongings in a tub and proceeded into the hall with the rest of the visitors, waiting to see an inmate. 

You tapped your heels gently on the concrete floor. Fuck, could this take any longer? The loud buzz of the doors that contained the inmates flooded into your ear and made you jump. 

“Line up, boys!” The guards yelled at the inmates to walk through the hallway door. Bucky’s hard glare settled onto his face before his eyes landed on your figure. A playful stare rolled over towards your face, that devious look was always hooded between his eyes. 

Your fiancée looked good, prison had done well on him with his newly cut hair and subtle that was growing longer.

You both pick up the phone, your garnet-colored chipped nails partially scraping against the phone. His eyes flickered to your bloody knuckles, they were thumping hard against your skin. You watched his lips curve into that luscious grin.

“Hey, baby girl.”

                | 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫 |                                                                 

You were running through crowds, pushing others trying to get to the subway.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, move asshole!”

You were totally and royally fucked at the moment. Your mind could only seize panic at the idea of being late and facing Carol’s wrath. You had been training with her for five months and the rumors were very much true, she was a tough lady. Carol Danvers, was a famous boxer that allowed you to be mentored by her. 

She saw you one night, walking underneath the stars and bright skyscrapers when a couple of men had paraded you. She almost stepped in until she saw you give three uppercuts and two kick to the balls. Her eyebrow only raised in interest before she asked you if you wanted to be mentored, to be better than you already are. Of course, you recognized her, even the newbies to boxing recognized her so you immediately agreed.

However, today just wasn’t your day. You spilled coffee all over your white shirt, you were held up at work having to do extra paperwork and now you’re going to be late for training. 

Normally, she’d praise you for always being on time and punctual but not today. She would probably yell at you to run a couple of miles more. You ran down the stairs and quickly swiped your metro card, pushing the gate. You were full-on running now, the subway train was already here and about to close.

You were just barely able to make it, a huff escaping your lungs as the doors slammed immediately behind you. You looked at your watch, 8:23 pm it read, your eyes widened and you muttered a light “shit.” 

There was hardly anyone on the subway, which was kind of weird considering that it was only eight. You peered over towards the cart next to you and saw that it was full, people were packed right next to each other. Your eyebrows furrowed and you turned towards the right, noticing a group of people stare at you.

Your eyes flicker towards a brunette, a sly smirk was fitted on his face. He had two women sitting right next to him, they were practically on his lap. They giggled at anything he said and stared at him with bright stary eyes. A sigh escaped your lips, you felt bad for them honestly. You’ve been there as well, craving attention and wanting anything materialistic. You knew there was nothing wrong with that, however, it can become pretty toxic sometimes.

“Wanna join us doll?”

Your eyes rolled over his form, he had an expensive tailored black suit. It was paired with expensive Versace sunglasses that sat right on his fluffy brown hair. It was like his cherry lips were suck in a smirk, cockiness just radiated off of him. He was pretty attractive, you weren’t going to lie but he wasn’t anything impressive as far as his attitude and demeanor. 

You could guess he was a misogynistic prick, thinking that women were just his plaything and money could buy them. You maintained a mundane expression as your eyes lifted to meet his. You could see his jaw was clenched at your bored expression, but it was true. This man was just another dude being called a lady killer while the girls around him were called sluts. 

“No.” 

His eyes widened in surprise, no one had ever denied him before. He got everything he wanted; women, money, territory, and nice things. Even his most trusted friends around him had never denied the things that he asked for. Not to mention his lackeys were always drenched in fear so he got anything he wanted.

He looked over to see Steve holding an amused and surprised expression. So did Natasha and Sam, amusement clouded over their eyes. The girls beside him gasped at your answer and his hands squeezed their thighs.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” That stupid smirk had clicked back onto his face as he continued to stare at you. His eyes traveled down from your eyes onto your form. You were wearing your favorite pair of matching Nike’s leggings and sports bra. For boxing, it was a common rule to wear nothing baggy. 

“No, but I don’t care either.” Your voice remained monotone and your face screamed boredom. You clicked your tongue and went back to scrolling on your phone, hoping he’d just leave you alone. How long will this subway ride take?

A sudden surge of anger filled his stomach at your still bored expression. Who were you talking to the biggest and baddest of New York City like that? You were just some girl, a nobody. Bucky, however, was everything and on top of the world. He had money, could get any girl he wanted, had the most expensive house in Brooklyn, and covered the most crime in the city. He was not just going to let you dismiss the Bucky Barnes like that.

His eyes wandered towards you again. He followed the placement of your nose, your beautiful cheekbones, and pink glossed lips. You are very attractive and Bucky is definitely not hiding his stare despite the two women around him.

“You from around here, doll?” There was a short pause before you answered. You were honestly getting pretty tired of this dude talking to you on an already shit day.

“Do you like prying into stranger’s lives?” Steve and Natasha snickered in front of him, their arms holding onto the railings above them. He just figured you had gotten into a fight of some sort, intrigue hitting him like a brick. 

“Jus’ the pretty ones.” You had to stop yourself from giving him a giant eye roll. You also really wanted to slap that smirk off of his face, it was infuriating. Just because he’s some hotshot doesn’t make it an excuse to be a dick. He was a giant cliche; the big successful man that has a parade of women around him, tattoos, expensive attire, and he probably has a fancy house. It was honestly sickening.

You looked over to see his jaw clenched, his stare was hard and a bit frightening. You didn’t want to be in deep shit with whoever this dude was, he seemed like his lawyers could tear you apart. So, you let your walls down just for a teensy itty bitty second.

“No. I’m from Morris Heights.” His eyebrows shot up, he wondered why you moved to Brooklyn which was on the other side of the city. 

“Bronx, huh?” You just nodded, turning your attention back on your phone. You look up to see signs that signify that this was your stop, especially since the voice on the subway was always inaudible. 

“It’s been a pleasure, doll.” You get up and make your way in front of the door, completely ignoring his sentence. You turn around just before the doors open, looking from the bodyguards, to the women, and then back onto him.

“See you around, prick.”

--

You rush into the gym doors, barely making it past 8:40 on the dot. Great, you were ten minutes late. You dropped your gym bag on the floor, emptying fast breaths from running for so long. You look up to see the only trainee in the room to be Shuri. You noticed she was tinkering on one of the machines. She always had a knack for wanting to improve every single gadget or machine that came before her presence. 

You see Carol waking up to you with a scowl and you knew it was for being late. She patted you on the back as you gulped. “Go run an extra mile, kid.” You raised your eyebrows at the less harsh punishment than expected. You assumed she’d give you five extra miles or something even worse.

“Don’t make me give you two extra miles.” Shuri snorts at the comment which makes you send a playful glare in her direction. You walk out the doors again and start jogging around the block.

You couldn’t help but think about the guy on the subway. It was quite strange to see a whole entire cart was empty just for him and his friends. The other carts were full, sardine-packed is what it looked like. Not to mention his annoying cockiness, what the fuck was up with that?

He was so pretentious like he could do anything to anyone and get away with it. It’s like he’s some trust fund dick who thinks that the world revolves around him. 

Sweat started to drop down your forehead and you realized that you’ve run enough miles. You push open the doors to the gym, going back inside. You see Shuri still tinkering and Carol was in her office with a phone call.

You walk over to the table in the corner and grab the white bands. You start wrapping them around your knuckles and walk over to one of the many punching bags. You started to make small punches at the bags, watching as it swung back and forth from your force.

Shuri then turns to you, looking over at you with excitement. “Hey, tomorrow Wanda, Gamora, and I going to this new bar in Crown Heights want to come?”

“Of course. I could use some fun.” Shuri brightens her smile and continues to go back to figuring out the things in front of her.

You looked down at the newspaper that sat next to her and some parts of a machine. She was required to set newspapers down because of an incident where oil was spilled all over the gym. Needless to say, Carol wasn’t happy and Shuri couldn’t use any of the machines for a month.

You couldn’t help but just stare at the caption, this one was from today. Curiosity always gets the best of you.

MOB BOSS JAMES BARNES RIDES THE SUBWAY, WHAT COULD THAT MEAN FOR THE CRIME IN THE CITY?

Then attached was a small picture underneath the headline. Your eyes widened and you felt like the air had just been shot out of you. You grab the newspaper and get a better stare, just making sure. You had to make sure.

You see the little picture even better. There was the man that was on the subway. He was smoking a cigarette, the smoke coming out of his mouth. His sleeves were rolled up which showed the plethora of tattoos that were scattered across his skin. Next to him were two women, giving him neck kisses.

Great, the person you called a dick was the biggest mob boss in the tristate area. 

You were so fucked.

~~

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @kitkatd7 @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan​

chapter two

[nahoyaglock]

📃 AS I AM CHAPTER 1 — Surprise!

SUMMARY — You knew Kageyama Tobio since you both were in diapers, being close family 'friends'. You always wanted to befriend the quiet kid but no matter your efforts, he would never crack. When you transfer schools and meet Kageyama again, what will happen to your relationship?

PAIRING — family friend!kageyama x fem!reader

GENRE — fluff/crack/angst

WARNINGS — uh, non rlly, just enjoy :D

WORD COUNT — 2.1k

FIND THE MASTERLIST HERE

(Sent September 15th at 6:32 am)

Y/N: [Good morning Tobio!]

You turned your phone off before sitting up to stretch your arms. The warm sunrays peeked through your thick curtains, your room taking the shade of an idigo hue. You let out a bronx cheer before hopping out of bed, looking around at your nearly empty room. bzzz!

You smiled to yourself, hands finding your small hand held device before opening your notification, seeing a text from Kageyama.

(Sent September 15th at 6:33 am)

Kageyama: [Morning.]

Y/N: [How did you sleep?]

[Also, I have a surprise for you Tobiooo!]

Kageyama: [I slept fine. What is it?]

Y/N: [It wouldn't be a surprise if you told ya!]

You set your phone down gently on your drawer and you heard a light knock on your door, then the nob turning. Your mom peeked her head through the crack in your door, smiling as she watched you open your blinds.

"Hey honey," she whispered, knocking again lightly. You faced your mother with a sleepy grin, "good morning mom." You grabbed two bags from the corner of your room, slinging them over your shoulder.

"I'll load up the car mom, don't worry okay?" You walk over to the door and she moves over, allowing you to get through the door. "We leave in 20 minutes okay?" She pats your back before walking off to her room, leaving you to your job.

You slipped on your fuzzy pink slippers sitting at the front door and your turned the lock to go out. You went back and forth, in and out of the house loading up all of your luggage and baggage needed for the move. Your mom had finished her loading and was turning on the car as you grabbed your phone and locked up the house.

You climbed into the backseat with a fluffy, warm blanket for the long ride, buckling yourself up and checking your notifications.

(Sent September 15th at 6:35 am)

kageyama: [you're quiet annoying you know?]

(Sent September 15th at 7:01 am)

Y/N: [I wouldn't be y/n if I wasnt, am I right?]

After hours of sleeping, snacking and playing video games, the ride had come to an end. "We're here baby, wake up." Your mom shook your arm softly and your slowly forced your eyes open. You groaned and sat up, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

You and your mom unloaded your luggage into the empty house, your new home. It was a house way smaller than your previous one, two rooms, a bathroom and a small livingroom that connects to the kitchen. You decided that you wanted it to feel as much like a home as did your old house, so you decided to start decorating.

(Sent September 15th at 2:13 pm)

Y/N: [Hey tobio, ill tell you about the surprise in a week! :3]

Kageyama: [okay.]

As you went through some boxes you found old photos of you and Kageyama, the male with a blank expression but you could barely stay still that you were slightly blurry. You smiled at the memories of being an energetic kid and decided to put up the photos of you and kageyama on your pin board.

After your room was decently put together, missing a desk and a bed of course, you texted your friends from your old school and went to your moms room to see her folding her clothes. "Hey mom, can we go to the school to pick up my stuff?" She turned to you and smiled, putting her shirt down and standing up.

"Ah, yeah lets go now." She grabbed her keys and lead you to the car, you bouncing with excitement behind her. You opted on riding in the front with her, smiling at her as she turned the keys to start the car. The ride was filled with your conversation with your mom, talking about what you two should do since you arrived in your new home, your school and how you live closer to the rest of your family.

You pulled up to your new school and you eyed the entrance, reading the signs and inspecting the buildings. Your mom parked and unlocked the car, allowing you to hop out under the cold breeze. "Lets go honey," your mom grabbed your arm lightly and pulled you along with her, entering your new highschool. Karasuno highschool.

The principal greeted you and your mother and started to show you around the school. You saw your classes, your locker, the gym, and other important stuff that you mentally noted. Lastly was the office, where he gave you your printed schedule, needed textbooks and school uniform. With a wave goodbye you and your mom left to go back to your house, the car ride was silent this time.

—

It was the day, the day you started your first day at your new school. It's been a week since you settled into your new home, finally having a bed and a desk, some drawers and other things. You felt like you were at home, finally ready for a new start. Your mom decided to drive you to school for your first day, despite living close to the school.

"Are you excited?" She asked, eyes on the road with a proud smile. "Yeah, I am, time for a new start," you smiled, looking at your phone. "Well, im just glad you're feeling well. About your dad, you know–" your mom started. Your parents divorced, and your dad bringing in the most income, you and your mom had to leave tokyo, no longer able to afford the house that you had lived in since the age of 3.

"Mom, its fine, really. It didn't work out and thats okay, because now we have a little home of our own," you smiled widely, grabbing your bag as your mom parked at the side of the road. "Oh! Can we get a puppy?" You asked, bouncing in your seat and she laughed.

"I'll think about it. Have a good day, and if you see Kageyama tell him I said hi," she waved as you climbed out the car and you nodded at her before crossing the street and entering the school. You were so excited, seeing other students who noticed your foreign presence.

(Sent September 23rd at 6:54 am)

Y/N: [Good morning tobio!]

[I'll tell you the surprise later, are you busy after school?]

Kageyama: [morning, and yes I have volleyball.]

Y/N: [ah, okay! Have a good day today]

You spent your day alone, just taking in the new setting and adjusting to the classes you had. You had a few students talk to you when they found out you were new, but you decided to eat lunch alone that day. The day went by pretty fast and while you were slightly tired, you were still pumping with excitement. After all, you were going to see Kageyama today.

School ended, and after class you went down to your locker to put away some of your books and take anything you needed out of there. You remembered that Kageyama said he would be doing volleyball club today, and you assumed it would be held in the gym. You turned to see a tall blonde headed male with glasses from one of your classes.

"Excuse me, sir?" You tapped the male, causing him to stop and face you, removing his head phones and putting his hands in his pockets. "You're the new kid, y/n? Right?" He asked, but before you could answer he scoffed, "what do you need?"

"Ah, do you know where the volleyball club is meeting today?" You stood on one foot, bouncing slightly, which wasnt unnoticed by the male. "Im in the club, we're meeting in the gym." He answered before he turned to head to the gym.

"Is it cool if i walk with you then?" You asked, leaning to your left side to peek at the boy who scoffed before nodding. You smiled and he started walking, so you waddled after him. "Ah, whats your name?" You asked taking big steps to match the tall males natural stride. "Tsukishima Kei. Call me Tsukishima."

You realized that maybe he wasn't the type to like conversations based on the annoyance in his tone, so you just followed behind silently until you arrived at the gym. The team were doing warmups of their own already while a few males had stood around and talked amongst themselves. "Woah, Tsukishima! Is that like, your girlfriend or something?"

You saw a small male, with a noticably bright streak of blonde hair smack dab in the middle of his forehead. "Im Nishinoya Yu!" He grinned and stuck out a friendly hand, which you took. "Ah, actually im new here, I just asked Tsukishima to show me the volleyball club." You giggled at the charismatic member.

"What– what did you come to the club for? Are you trying out to be the new manager or something?" A taller, nearly bald male said, appearing behind the shorter male. Tsukishima groaned and walked off to the other side of the gym. "Ah, im actually here to see a friend." They both looked at each other then turned to the third years.

"Daichi, do you know her?" Nishinoya asked, pointing at you and the gyms attention was on you. You put your hands up and waved in defense "ah wait, im actually here to see–"

"Oh, whos this?" A familiar voice said and you turned to the entrance of the gym to see Kageyama Tobio. His eyes widened in shock and he froze, dropping his water bottle as you smiled widely at him. "Kageyama!" You shouted and ran to the male, wrapping your arms around his neck, giggling lightly as he stood frozen in shock.

"Y-y/n..?" He asked and softly pushed you off of him, looking at you with a glare that also had a hint of confusion fused in. "What are you doing here?" He asked, even though he knew exactly what was going on. He saw your uniform and heard about a new student who had transferred to their school. But why you?

"Well, I moved here and thought, why not transfer to your school?" You smiled as all the boys headed over. A orange haired male walked around you, inspecting you, bouncing around with an energetic presence. "Are you and Kageyama dating?"

"You moron!" Kageyama yelled and slapped hinata on the back of the head, causing the orange haired males expression turn sour. You jumped lightly and rubbed the short males head "ah, tobio." He whines and looks up at you and pouts at Kageyama. "Your girlfriend is way cooler and nicer than you."

"Ah, im not Kageyamas girlfriend, we're family friends," you say to the small male, and he thinks for a minute. "Ah, this is y/n?" Hinata asks and Kageyama pinches his ear, dragging him away while yelling at him. You smile and turn to the other males, seeing the captain walking over towards you.

"Hello, im Daichi Sawamura, call me Daichi." He says and bows. "Im Y/n L/n," you greet back. You were allowed to stay and watch the practice, and he even introduced you to the other team members and the coaches. The whole practice you watched Kageyama, who would occasionally shoot glances at you. You also noted that he wasn't doing really well, he seemed really distracted.

After practice ended, you stood up, slinging your bag over your shoulder and attempted to approach him, but he exited the gym as quickly as he could. You were slightly shocked and just decided to text him, hinata sneaking up on you. "Hey y/n, how do you know Kageyama?"

"Hmm, oh! Our moms are best friends, so kageyamas family was always welcome at out family get togethers," you stated, not taking your eyes off of your screen.

(Sent September 23rd at 8:05 pm)

Y/N: [hey kageyama, do you want a ride from my mom?]

Daichi called for everyone to exit the gym, so you put your phone into your pocket and exited with Hinata and Nishinoya. "So, Kageyamas girlfriend?" Noya asked and you laughed, "im not his girlfriend, again." You correct as you two walk to the bike racks for Noya and Hinata to grab their bikes.

"Hmm, well a friend of kageyamas is a friend of mine!" Hinata smiles and mounts his bike, wide and bright smile, when you hear a honk. "Ah thats my mom, I'll see you guys again!"

"Wait, do you want to eat lunch with us tomorrow?" Nishinoya asked, mounting his bike. "Ah, I'll think about it, it was nice to meet you guys!" You wave goodbye to the males and jog over to your moms car, climbing into the passenger seat.

(Sent September 23rd at 8:09 pm)

Kageyama: [no.]

© tomura-heart — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, or copying is not allowed. you may translate with my permission and correct crediting. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

[geosfeel]

Six Greek Weeks

Week 4, Part 2 - More on Ikaria, my favorite island

Doesn't look like much... but... this is my very favorite spot on Ikaria. It's a free, unmarked hot spring. You need to find it by a small sign on the road above, and then a long hike to these rocks with a certain color of red they get from the hot water. Then you have to take off your shoes and carefully find a good spot - carefully! because the water is VERY hot, but mixed with the cold seawater feels awesome, especially when you find a spot that has waves of cool followed by waves of hot. So amazing - both alone, or with others, but I've never found it crowded.

My second favorite spot on Ikaria is at the Ikarian Pirates, the boxing school of my friend Isidoros. We met when I found his school by accident a few years ago, and I trained with him a few times. He lent me gloves because I don't travel with boxing gloves - they take up too much space & I like to travel light. But this year I brought him a pair of nice Mexican gloves that I inherited from my gym here in SF. (They had to close for the pandemic, and get rid of all the stuff people had left there over the years - a lot of nice stuff...)

His team is also called the Ikarian Pirates. Isidoros is a great coach and also a great competitor. He travels to find boxing tournaments, like to England, Ireland and New York City. (He has some amazing stories to tell about boxing in the South Bronx...). I can't wait to go there and train with these guys again.

Here are my travel needs: (clockwise from left) 2 week supply of vitamin supplements, ice cream (pagotinia), melatonin, ibuprofen, etc, lotion, Ariani (yogurt with cold water), Milko (chocolate milk) (essential), card charger, Swiss card toolkit, iPhone charger (the round thing), bandana, Euro coins 2€, 1€, 50¢ (used much more than paper), wallet with card from hotel I like in Therma

This is a huge abandoned hotel in Therma. It's been like that for many years. You see this in Greece sort of a lot. I didn't really understand how you can have a big property and let it decay, but my friends explained that because of the economic crisis, there was no credit. I other words, here in the US, any bank would lend you the money you needed to renovate this place and start making money, for yourself and the bank. But banks here had no money to lend out.... somehow... but they ARE banks right? That means they have money? I still don't understand...

This is Evdilos, the port on the north side of the island. I usually spend a week up here too. Since it's so far from the south side, with only 2 very windy roads, I don't go back and forth, but just stay up here (in Gialiskari), and rent a car up here (in Armenistis), go to the naked beach (at Nas) and finally the ferry leaves from here.

Actually Evdilos itself is a charming town, with a nice seafront, and nice stores, and a decent beach not too far.

Departures are always somewhat melancholy. Here I'm leaving Evdilos and Ikaria, for at least another year. I do love it here, and maybe in future I'll stay longer...

This is the island of Syros, and the port city of Hermoupolis, from the ferry. I didn't stop here this trip, or go here at all this trip, but I will in future, for sure.

This is Hermoupolis, named after Hermes, god of commerce. It's the regional capitol of the Cyclades island group, which means if you have business in the Cyclades, you come here for government matters like permits and registration, etc. The two hills represent the two religions that are found here. The one on the right is the Greek Orthodox hill, with the cathedral at the top. On the left is the Catholic hill, with their cathedral, and the cool old village of Ano Syros around it. Revered rembetiko songwriter and singer and bouzouki player Markos Vamvakaris is from Ano Syros.

This grizzled old geezer is sailing the wine dark sea in the footsteps of his hero Odysseus...

[uppersidedreams]

[ diego boneta, cis man, thirty ] Let’s give a warm welcome to one of Sparkwood’s finest, LUKE ALVEZ !! Before coming here, he once lived on the pages of CRIMINAL MINDS. Though now they currently spend most of their time as an FBI AGENT. If you ask the townsfolk about what they are like, you will hear that they are ASTUTE but also DETACHED. If they had a theme song it would be NICE TO MEET YA - NIALL HORAN. 

note: you can find my full muse page HERE !

bio triggers: brief mention of torture. 

luke alvez was born into a rather strict family and was raised in the bronx. while his parents had always wanted a family, they weren’t necessarily the most inept when it came to showing their love for their son. while he craved love and praise, both of his parents showed their love through their strictness and willingness to provide luke with the best life possible. his mother worked for the government and his father was a retired army captain, their work perhaps an explanation as to why the two were so closed off, to begin with. his teenage years were fairly mundane despite the one or two years of teenage angst and rebellion, but those years never got in the way of his studies. when he graduated from high school, he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to do with his life and was inspired by his father’s heroic stories to enlist in the army. it provided him with a wealth of experience, both good and bad.

but when he was finally discharged from the army, he knew exactly what he wanted to do with his time. he ended up going to quantico for training and ended up working for the fbi. first, he worked within the fugitive task force but an incident that occurred with his partner ended up traumatizing him. his partner being tortured while hunting down their target was something that alvez ended up blaming himself for, unable to truly come to terms with the whole situation. he was in turn reassigned and stepped in to work with the behavioral analysis unit as a criminal profiler. although all of his years of service for his country has left luke feeling worn, wanting to explore something he worked on within the army: animal training.

so he decided to bounce back and forth between his normal life and work, settling down outside of washington d.c. in the small town of sparkwood. he has been working part-time at the sparkwood shelter with dogs when he can while also being on call whenever he is needed as a profiler. while his life in sparkwood allows him to keep up the illusion that he has a normal life, he knows deep down that he needs to take time to work on himself and his past traumas. It’s a bonus knowing that he’s living close to someone that he works with.

HEADCANONS.

luke still keeps in touch with his parents and visits them in new york every holiday, but he longs to have his own family one day and do things a little differently than his parents did.

he has a dog named roxy that he got as a therapy dog after being discharged and she’s helped him immensely in his journey in adjusting to civilian life.

he is essentially a big kid: he spends his free time spending video games, owns a bachelor pad, and is a lousy cook.

he is fluent in spanish, american sign language, and dabbles a bit in latin.

he identifies as heterosexual but would be open to anything that comes his way (biromantic).

despite no longer being in the service, he likes to stay fit and can often be found at the mount olympus gym either working out or partaking in a little boxing.

still suffers from nightmares based on what happened to his ex-partner, phil.

[empyreanwritings]

Oooh for Mob Monday! mob Steve got Mob Boss Bucky a new bodyguard but suprise she is a sassy 5 foot nothing and Bucky makes a very rude remark but then he is on his back in 10 seconds. He didn't know she was the granddaughter of the old man that owned the boxing gym that still owed him a debt, she took the job to pay off the debt so they dont take the gym sorry if that a lot of info I just love mob Monday lol

Bucky coughed, trying his best to get the air to return to his lungs. He was more in shock over the fact that you really just knocked him on his ass. You barely reached his chest!

You pressed the heel of your boot against his throat. Threatening your boss probably wasn't the best idea, but you were in no mood to be sassed by Bucky fucking Barnes.

"Let me make something clear," you started with a sneer, "I may be working for you to clear the debt under my father's name, but that does not mean you speak to me like I am beneath you."

"Who the hell is your father?!"

Steve hadn't given him the details on your employment. Just that you needed the job to make some extra money.

"Michael Booth. He owns the gym down in the Bronx that you are threatening to take from him."

He closed his eyes. He hadn't realized how similar you looked to your father until this very moment, but how was he supposed to know that? You had a different last name than the man! And you hadn't offered that information until now!

You slowly released your hold on him before straightening out your shirt. You were no longer in the mood to deal with his attitude today.

"Can I have the rest of the day off and try to start fresh tomorrow?" You offered.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, uh, yeah. Go ahead."

As you walked away, Bucky shamelessly checked you out. There was a lot more to you than met the eyes, and he intended on discovering all your little quirks.

[blackkudos]

Afrika Bambaataa

Afrika Bambaataa (born Lance Taylor; April 17, 1957) is an American disc jockey, rapper, songwriter and producer from the South Bronx, New York. He is notable for releasing a series of genre-defining electro tracks in the 1980s that influenced the development of hip hop culture. Afrika Bambaataa is one of the originators of breakbeat DJing and is respectfully known as "The Godfather" and "Amen Ra of Hip Hop Kulture", as well as the father of electro-funk. Through his co-opting of the street gang the Black Spades into the music and culture-oriented Universal Zulu Nation, he has helped spread hip hop culture throughout the world.On May 6, 2016, Bambaataa left his position as head of The Zulu Nation due to multiple child sexual abuse allegations dating as far back as the 1970s.

Early life

Born as Lance Taylor to Jamaican and Barbadian immigrants, Bambaataa grew up in The Bronx River Projects, with an activist mother and uncle. As a child, he was exposed to the black liberation movement, and witnessed debates between his mother and uncle regarding the conflicting ideologies in the movement. He was exposed to his mother's extensive and eclectic record collection. Gangs in the area became the law, clearing their turf of drug dealers, assisting with community health programs and both fighting and partying to keep members and turf. Bambaataa was a member of the Black Spades. He quickly rose to the position of warlord of one of the divisions. As warlord, it was his job to build ranks and expand the turf of the young Spades. He was not afraid to cross turfs to forge relationships with other gang members, and with other gangs. As a result, the Spades became the biggest gang in the city in terms of both membership and turf.

After Bambaataa won an essay contest that earned him a trip to Africa, his worldview shifted. He had seen the movie Zulu and was impressed with the solidarity exhibited by the Zulu in that film. During his trip to Africa, the communities he visited inspired him to create one in his own neighborhood. He changed his name to Afrika Bambaataa Aasim, adopting the name of the Zulu chief Bhambatha, who led an armed rebellion against unfair economic practices in early 20th century South Africa. He told people that his name was Zulu for "affectionate leader." Bambaataa formed The "Bronx River Organization" as an alternative to the Black Spades.

Career

Inspired by DJ Kool Herc and Kool DJ Dee, Bambaataa began hosting hip-hop parties beginning in 1977. He vowed to use hip-hop to draw angry kids out of gangs and form the Universal Zulu Nation. Robert Keith Wiggins, a.k.a. "Cowboy" of Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, is credited with naming hip-hop; the term became a common phrase used by MCs as part of a scat-inspired style of rhyming. Writer Steven Hager claims that the first time "hip-hop" was used in print was in his Village Voice article where he was quoting Bambaataa, who had called the culture "hip-hop" in an interview.

In 1982, Bambaataa and his followers - a group of dancers, artists, and DJs - went outside the United States on the first hip-hop tour. He saw that the hip hop tours would be the key to help expand hip hop and his Universal Zulu Nation. In addition it would help promote the values of hip hop that he believed are based on peace, unity, love, and having fun. He brought peace to the gangs; many artists and gang members say that "hip hop saved a lot of lives." His influence inspired many overseas artists like the French rapper MC Solaar. He was a popular DJ in The South Bronx rap scene and became known not only as Afrika Bambaataa but also as the "Master of Records." He established two rap crews: the Jazzy 5 including MCs Master Ice, Mr. Freeze, Master Bee, Master D.E.E, and AJ Les, and the second crew referred to as Soulsonic Force including Mr. Biggs, Pow Wow and Emcee G.L.O.B.E.

In 1982, Taylor, who was inspired by Kraftwerk's futuristic electronic music, debuted at The Roxy a test cassette of EBN-OZN's ground breaking, 12-inch white rap/spoken word "AEIOU Sometimes Y". It was the first commercially released American single ever made on a computer, a Fairlight CMI, ushering in the era of music computer sampling. In that same year, Bambaataa and Soulsonic Force stopped performing with a live band, and began to use only technology. Bambaataa credited the pioneering Japanese electropop group Yellow Magic Orchestra, whose work he sampled, as an inspiration. He also borrowed a keyboard hook from German electronic pioneers Kraftwerk and was provided the electronic Roland TR-808 "beat-box" by producer Arthur Baker and synthesizer player John Robie. That resulted in "Planet Rock," which went to gold status and generated an entire school of "electro-boogie" rap and dance music. Bambaataa formed his own label to release the Time Zone Compilation. He created "turntablism" as its own subgenre and the ratification of "electronica" as an industry-certified trend in the late 1990s.

Birth of the Zulu Nation

In the late 1970s, Bambaataa formed what became known as the Universal Zulu Nation, a group of socially and politically aware rappers, B-boys, graffiti artists and other people involved in hip hop culture. By 1977, inspired by DJ Kool Herc and DJ Dee, and after Disco King Mario loaned him his first equipment, Bambaataa began organizing block parties all around The South Bronx. He even faced his long-time friend, Disco King Mario in a DJ battle. He then began performing at Adlai E. Stevenson High School and formed the Bronx River Organization, then later simply "The Organization." Bambaataa had deejayed with his own sound system at The Bronx River Houses' Community Center, with Mr. Biggs, Queen Kenya, and Cowboy, who accompanied him in performances in the community. Because of his prior status in the Black Spades, he already had an established Army party crowd drawn from former members of the gang. Hip hop culture was spreading through the streets via house parties, block parties, gym dances and mix tapes.

About a year later Bambaataa reformed the group, calling it the Zulu Nation (inspired by his wide studies on African history at the time). Specifically, Bambaataa watched the 1964 film Zulu, which sparked the name for the group. Five b-boys (break dancers) joined him, whom he called the Zulu Kings, and later formed the Zulu Queens, and the Shaka Zulu Kings and Queens. As he continued deejaying, more DJs, rappers, b-boys, b-girls, graffiti writers, and artists followed him, and he took them under his wing and made them all members of his Zulu Nation. He was also the founder of the Soulsonic Force, which originally consisted of approximately 20 Zulu Nation members: Mr. Biggs, Queen Kenya, DJ Cowboy Soulsonic Force (#2), Pow Wow, G.L.0.B.E. (creator of the "MC popping" rap style), DJ Jazzy Jay, Cosmic Force, Queen Lisa Lee, Prince Ikey C, Ice Ice (#1), Chubby Chub; Jazzy Five-DJ Jazzy Jay, Mr. Freeze, Master D.E.E., Kool DJ Red Alert, Sundance, Ice Ice (#2), Charlie Choo, Master Bee, Busy Bee Starski, Akbar (Lil Starski), and Raheim. The personnel for the Soulsonic Force were groups within groups with whom he would perform and make records.

In 1980, Taylor's groups made Death Mix, their first recording with Paul Winley Records. According to Bambaata, this was an unauthorized release. Winley recorded two versions of Soulsonic Force's landmark single, "Zulu Nation Throwdown," with authorization from the musicians. Disappointed with the results of the single, Bambaataa left the company. The arranger credit on these recordings is correctly attributed to Harlem Underground Band leader, Kevin Donovan. This led to the false assumption that Bambaataa's real name was Kevin Donovan, which was widely accepted by the hip hop community until recently, following sexual abuse allegations, when Bronx River residents spoke out and revealed in oral testimonies that Bambaataa's real name was in fact Lance Taylor.

The Zulu Nation was the first hip-hop organization, with an official birth date of November 12, 1977. Bambaataa's plan with the Universal Zulu Nation was to build a movement out of the creativity of a new generation of outcast youths with an authentic, liberating worldview.

Recognition

In 1981, hip hop artist Fab Five Freddy was putting together music packages in the largely white downtown Manhattan new wave clubs, and invited Bambaataa to perform at one of them, the Mudd Club. It was the first time Bambaataa had performed before a predominantly white crowd. Attendance for his parties downtown became so large that he had to move to larger venues, first to the Ritz, in a show organized by hip hop pioneer, Michael Holman, with Malcolm McLaren's group Bow Wow Wow, then to the Peppermint Lounge, The Jefferson, Negril, Danceteria and the Roxy. "Planet Rock," a popular single produced by Arthur Baker and the keyboardist John Robie, came out that June under the name Afrika Bambaataa and the Soulsonic Force. The song borrowed musical motifs from German electronic music, funk, and rock. Different elements and musical styles were used together. The song became an immediate hit and stormed the music charts worldwide. The song melded the main melody from Kraftwerk's "Trans-Europe Express" with electronic beats based on their track "Numbers" as well as portions from records by Babe Ruth and Captain Sky, thus creating a new style of music altogether, electro funk.

Afrika Bambaataa was booked on the first ever European hip hop tour presented by Europe One and Fnac France. Along with himself were rapper and graffiti artist Rammellzee, Zulu Nation DJ Grand Mixer DXT (formerly Grand Mixer D.St), B-boy and B-girl crews the Rock Steady Crew, and the Double Dutch Girls, as well as legendary graffiti artists Fab 5 Freddy, PHASE 2, Futura 2000, and Dondi.

Bambaataa's second release around 1983 was "Looking for the Perfect Beat," then later, "Renegades of Funk," both with the same Soulsonic Force. He began working with producer Bill Laswell at Jean Karakos's Celluloid Records, where he developed and placed two groups on the label: Time Zone and Shango. Bambaataa recorded "Wildstyle" with Time Zone, and he recorded a collaboration with punk rocker John Lydon and Time Zone in 1984, titled "World Destruction." Shango's album, Shango Funk Theology, was released by the label in 1984. That same year, Bambaataa and other hip hop celebrities appeared in the movie Beat Street. He also made a landmark recording with James Brown, titled "Unity." It was billed in music industry circles as "the Godfather of Soul meets the Godfather of Hip Hop."

Around October 1985, Bambaataa and other music stars worked on the anti-apartheid album Sun City with Little Steven Van Zandt, Joey Ramone, Run–D.M.C., Lou Reed, U2, and others. During 1988, he recorded "Afrika Bambaataa and Family" for Capitol Records, titled The Light, featuring Nona Hendryx, UB40, Boy George, George Clinton, Bootsy Collins, and Yellowman. He had recorded a few other works with Family three years earlier, one titled "Funk You" in 1985, and the other titled "Beware (The Funk Is Everywhere)" in 1986. In 1986 he discovered an artist in Atlanta. (Through MC SHY D) by the name of Kenya Miler a.k.a. MC Harmony (Known producer now as Kenya Fame Flames Miller), that was later signed to Criminal Records and Arthur Baker. The group was Harmony and LG. The first single, 1987's "Dance To The Drums/No Joke," was produced by Bambaataa and Baker with musicians Keith LeBlanc and Doug Wimbish. Bambaataa was involved in the Stop the Violence Movement, and with other hip hop artists recorded "Self Destruction", a 12" single which hit number one on the Hot Rap Singles Chart in March 1989. The single went gold and raised $400,000 for the National Urban League to be used for community anti-violence education programs.

In 1990, Bambaataa made Life magazine's "Most Important Americans of the 20th Century" issue. He was also involved in the anti-apartheid work "Hip Hop Artists Against Apartheid" for Warlock Records. He teamed with the Jungle Brothers to record the album Return to Planet Rock (The Second Coming).

Gee Street Records, Bambaataa and John Baker organized a concert at Wembley Stadium in London in 1990 for the African National Congress (ANC), in honor of Nelson Mandela's release from prison. The concert brought together performances by British and American rappers, and also introduced both Nelson and Winnie Mandela and the ANC to hip hop audiences. In relation to the event, the recording Ndodemnyama (Free South Africa) helped raise approximately $30,000 for the ANC.

From the mid-1990s, Bambaataa returned to his electro roots. In 1998, he produced a remix of "Planet Rock" combining electro and house music elements, called "Planet Rock '98," which is regarded as an early example of the electro house genre. In 2000, Rage Against the Machine covered his song "Renegades of Funk" for their album, Renegades. The same year, he collaborated with Leftfield on the song "Afrika Shox," the first single from Leftfield's Rhythm and Stealth. "Afrika Shox" also appeared on soundtrack to Vanilla Sky. In 2004, he collaborated with WestBam, a group that was named after him, on the 2004 album Dark Matter Moving at the Speed of Light which also featured Gary Numan. In 2006, he was featured on the British singer Jamelia's album Walk With Me on a song called "Do Me Right," and on Mekon's album Some Thing Came Up, on the track "D-Funktional." He performed the lyrics on the track "Is There Anybody Out There" by The Bassheads (Desa Basshead). As an actor, he has played a variety of voice-over character roles on Kung Faux.

Bambaataa was a judge for the 6th annual Independent Music Awards to support independent artists' careers. On September 27, 2007, it was announced that Afrika Bambaataa was one of the nine nominees for the 2008 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Inductions. On December 22, 2007, he made a surprise appearance performing at the First Annual Tribute Fit For the King of King Records, Mr. Dynamite James Brown in Covington, Kentucky.

On August 14, 2012, Bambaataa was given a three-year appointment as a visiting scholar at Cornell University. The appointment was made in collaboration between Cornell University Library's Hip Hop Collection, the largest collection of historical hip hop music in North America, and the University's department of Music. His archives, including his vinyl collection, original audio and video recordings, manuscripts, books, and papers arrived at the Cornell University Hip Hop Collection in December 2013.

Child molestation allegations

In April 2016, Bronx political activist Ronald Savage accused Bambaataa of molesting him in 1980, when Savage was 15. Following Savage's allegations, three more men accused Bambaataa of sexual abuse. Bambaataa issued a statement to Rolling Stone denying the allegations. In early May 2016, the Universal Zulu Nation disassociated themselves from Bambaataa as part of an organizational restructuring that saw the group removing "all accused parties and those accused of covering up the current allegations of child molestation" from their current roles in the organization.

On May 6, 2016, Bambaataa left his position as head of The Zulu Nation.

In June 2016, The Universal Zulu Nation issued an open letter apologizing to the alleged victims of sexual abuse perpetrated by Bambaataa.

"On behalf of the members of the Universal Zulu Nation worldwide, who have made their voices heard through their chapter leaders, we extend our deepest and most sincere apologies to the many people who have been hurt by the actions of Afrika Bambaataa and the subsequent poor response of our organization to allegations levelled against him," the Zulu Nation said in a statement signed by dozens of UZN chapter leaders worldwide.

"To the survivors of apparent sexual molestation by Bambaataa, both those who have come forward and others who have not, we are sorry for what you endured and extend our thanks to those who have spoken out for your bravery in bringing to light that which most of us were sadly unaware of, and others chose not to disclose."

The apology was signed by nearly three dozen members of the Zulu Nation, including leaders from as far as New Zealand. The organization also apologized to Ronald "Bee Stinger" Savage and Hassan "Poppy" Campbell, two of Bambaataa's accusers, who they said were "subjected to unjust and inexcusable attacks on their characters in official statements by our organization when they chose to speak their truths. ... We hear you, we believe you, and we stand with you."

In October 2016, Vice published an in-depth article titled "Afrika Bambaataa Allegedly Molested Young Men For Decades" and reported the stories and testimonies of the alleged victims and witnesses. The article stated the accusers "claim that these accounts of alleged abuse have been common knowledge in the Bronx River community and beyond since the early 1980s, including among many of Bambaataa's closest friends and Zulu soldiers."

Despite the multiple allegations and testimonies of victims and witnesses, to date no charges have been brought upon Afrika Bambaataa and he has not been prosecuted for these alleged crimes. This is due to New York state statute of limitations, which provide that actions for civil damages for defined sexual crimes, including sexual abuse of a minor, must be brought within five years of the acts constituting the sexual offense.