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allandoflimbo · 3 years

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Ashens (Part 18)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian. Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 17,000 (I’M SO SORRY) the first half of this story is flashback. The second half is the present.

Chapter Warning: Sex, twice. Sad Sex. Filthy sex. SMUT. VERY strong Language. Bucky and Reader will be very toxic in this chapter. It might be triggering if you’ve ever been in an emotionally abusive relationship.

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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There’s an imminent smell of old wood garnish and pumpkin spice escaping a bright orange glow that flickered in the background.

The odor was extremely strong, trickling through the thick and heavy air of the twelve by twelve room. There was a draft coming in through the window and it continued to help push the flame directly towards the center of the room- the scent marking anything in its direct path with a faint reminder of the close arrival of winter.

Though the glow of a candle was soothing, to many it was anything but pleasant; scented candles were a new thing and it was said to be something for the upcoming future generation.

The idea behind it was that it carried an artificial smell that held a memory you could carry along with you wherever you went. Its point was to remind you of where you were or what you wanted to be feeling, come the fitting setting. This specific pumpkin candle was to remind us all that it was a season of festivity and gathering, and much-needed warmth. The other obvious reason being that pumpkin was delicious.

If you weren’t eating it, you might as well be smelling it.

To most people, it made no sense. Why would you want to smell something so delicious and not be able to physically consume it? It was a pleasant odor coming from an artificial chemical, completely contrary to what is expected. Put simply, it was an empty promise.

One more strong whiff of pumpkin, mixed together with the cozy sound of a crackle of fire, he blinks and Bucky is brought out of his daze. He’s now entirely environmentally aware of his surroundings and sounds coming from additional places come into his perspective.

Within a moment’s relapse, he chooses again to regain focus on the other specific sounds aside from the antagonizing fake fire, gazing his eyes over the pleasant words in front of him.

To his dismay, they don’t sink in. He is distracted by the harsh rain pellets and the distant undeviating sound of a honking Durant. Unlike the candle, those sounds didn’t stand out to him as empty promises, but instead as a reminder of the harsh reality of the outside world.

His strong and confident fingers appeared to skim the yellow worn-out pages of his book on their own accord; his eyes still looking, but not necessarily seeing. Looking closer, with shoulders painfully slumped, he squinted his blue eyes. The words blurred into one and he began blinking desperately and shifting in his seat. He tried to regain his proper vision, not enjoying the sensation of not knowing or seeing what he was trying oh so hard to understand.

His right thumb gave a slight unconfident tremble as he tried to pick up the next page. After a couple of failed attempts, the paper not obeying (most likely due to his careless attempt- it’s not like he was actually reading it), he sighs in aggravation.

He closes his copy of This Side of Paradise harshly between his hands, bringing it to his face. He bounces his right leg uncontrollably up and down as he tapped his pointer finger on the cover of the worn-out novel, resting one elbow on each knee.

It was a nervous tick he picked up somewhere along the way.

The walls of the study room seemed to want to envelope him warmly, as if trying too hard to show comfort and security. There was an eeriness that made him constantly tremble and not feel comfortable at all. Maybe it was the hideous wallpaper, or maybe it was that disgusting odor of varnish from the freshly repainted wooden chair that he smelled when he first came in and could not stop thinking about.

There was no longer a sound of a honking Durant, and the rain seemed to dim down drastically as he continued to look into the distance. He wondered if it was the December air leaking through the slightly ajar window that made the tightness in his chest grow cold and frigid.

Aggravated, he placed the book down next to him on the side table, avoiding the waiting and apprehensive eyes staring at him. They had been staring at him for what felt like hours but had been only mere minutes.

He knew he was a strong young man, he'd always tried to be because that's how he was raised back in his little home town of Shelbyville, Indiana. And if asked about it, he would speak of it with great confidence.

When his mother passed away, his father had been the one to make sure to teach him that nothing like her death would be strong enough to tear him down. That instead, it would, and should, be a motivation for him to be a better person each and every time. He would need to transfer that hurt and despair into physical action.

But clearly, it had to come with a price and tremendous hard work. Things like that, non material things like emotional determination, could not be bought. If you wanted to be great, you had to work to be great. If you wanted to be strong, you'd have to work for it. He’d have to push through all the heartache and pain to reach that level of excellence that he knew his father wanted to see in him.

That is that natural characteristic they’re born with: soldiers.

It was well known, Bucky Barnes was a military brat. His father was always well respected at Camp Lehigh. They'd say back at camp that he was much like his father: loyal, headstrong, patriotic, and obtained strong morals. It was practically in his blood to be a fighter. A fighter for the good in people, the kind, and the innocent. It was his duty, and when he'd grow up to put his own two feet in combat boots himself, he would be prepared to take on any mission he was told. He would be more than capable of doing so.

They all promised him this and he himself grew up believing it.

But this, this of all things, was not something he was prepared for.

Because he's realized -at this exact moment- that his entire life he has lost almost everything and gained absolutely nothing in return. He'd put himself out there so many times to try and do the better good, from giving his last twenty five cents (that he initially wanted to use to buy flowers for the new pretty girl he met) to the little boy he saw walking down Broadway with no shoes.

He excelled in every class he'd ever taken because he knew it was good for him because it would make his father proud.

The shadow that belonged to the eyes and voice from earlier sat down in front of him behind a large desk that had a plaque.

It read ‘Director' in golden ink that had begun to fade from years of scratching and unkindly picking by kids that faced much less traumatic sentences than this.

Bucky's eyes lifted for the first time in what felt like a long time. He could feel the strain on his heavy eyelids as he did so. He regretted it the moment he looked up, because that's when reality seemed to have punched him directly in the gut. His eyes swelled and he blinked away quickly, not letting emotion get the best of his masculinity.

He'd refused to let a tear out.

But the look of pity on the man's face is what did it for him, it made him want to completely fall apart. He didn't like being looked at that way. He didn't like being the victim, the way it felt. He hated it with a passion. He wanted to run out of there and hide himself away for at least one small moment and cry.

"I'm so sorry."

That was the response he exactly did not want to hear. Bucky let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his short hair as the words rang in his ears like ticking bombs. Again, he didn't like the pity.

He tried to deny it and shake his head back and forth to himself but all that did was drive tears to trickle out of his blue eyes.

He knew this would pass with time, but being weak was not the reaction he needed to put on display. He was a soldier for heaven’s sake. No matter how destroyed his life seemed to be getting, he couldn't let it show.

Bucky cleared his throat, making sure his voice would sound strong before he would begin to speak.

And it was.

"It's not your fault.”

Twenty-one. That's how old Bucky Barnes was when his father passed away.

+ + +

They were both laughing so hard that she started getting tears, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the laughter or the bitter cold. They were both so caught up in the events of the night neither noticed how cold it really was.

Once their laughter dwelled down, she continued to stare at him in total admiration. He was something else for sure. She wanted to feel his arm around her again. She looked down at his freezing hand and took it into her cold one.

“Tell me about you, James.”

He smiled when she looked back up and he gave her a tight squeeze.

“First, tell me what a fine dame like you is doin here in Brooklyn.” A playful smile plays on her lips, but it’s a rhetorical questions so he continues, “What do you wanna know?"

She smiles even wider and this time it reaches her eyes, “Everything. I want to know everything about you by tomorrow mornin’.”

The fact that she suggested spending the night with him made him gulp.

He looks down at her lips and nods slowly.

He followed up by telling her that the apartment he had rented out for the next few weeks was just a couple of blocks away. On the walk there she had questioned what he meant by rent for a couple of weeks to which he responded with that he would explain there, but that they should get warm first.

When they arrived, his door ended up being three floors up. His dingy beat-up door made her smile inside. He gave off a classy, rich, stuck up vibe, but really he was simple and not much for being out there. She liked that he seemed so original.

He inserted the key into the normal door lock and bolt lock and opened the door for her to let her in first. She stepped into the “foyer”, if it could even be called that, and took a look around. It was more like a two by two feet space. She walked in the rest of the way and took a look around. It was basically a small studio, but a lot smaller. It was one room, inside there was a tiny kitchen on the left corner, a window that looked out to another brick wall, and to the right a metal bed with a white blanket.

But it was made, military style.

He walks over to his record player and places the needle gently down on the vinyl. If You Only Knew starts playing quietly.

He looks over his shoulder at her and notices her facial expression.

“Yeah, sorry” he chuckled dropping his keys by his iron stove, “I know it’s not much, but it’s temporary. You should’ve seen my old place before I left for training.”

He catches himself when he says it but it’s too late. Her head snaps to his direction and her face holds an emotion that he can’t really pin point. He can’t tell if it’s fear or surprise. He swallows hard and tries to direct the conversation to a different direction.

He curses himself in his head for his stupid slip up. He goes to the far kitchen and opens the cupboard, “I got some cookies, uhm,” he doesn’t know what to say with her staring at him like that. He closes the cupboard and runs a hand through his brown hair. It’s silent.

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. A car honks outside after it runs through a puddle and Ella’s voice is haunting.

“You’re in the army.”

He’s caught off guard and his eyebrow raises at her voice. He looks at her. It wasn’t fear or surprise that she had felt when he said that, it was sadness. It was the one feeling he was afraid she’d feel, it was the reason why he didn’t want to tell her just yet. But it was too late, she knows now.

He nods.

He sees visible tears build up in her eyes. He doesn’t want this, he wanted this to be happy. Just a half hour ago they were laughing and now she’s in his apartment, shattered. She nods quickly and crosses her arms across her chest.

She was different and he knew it the moment he saw her. Any normal girl would love to be with a soldier, but not in this case. Not when it was something like this.

She looks at his bed and his window and shakes her head. This was a damn pit stop.

The made bed revealed just how loyal he was to what he had signed up for and she knew there was no backing out. But he was perfect, she couldn’t lose him. She had to at least stay for the long hall, she thought. It wouldn’t last forever anyway.

Her eyes meet his again. The tears had been blinked away and evaporated and her strong satire was back.

He takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over the sink, sighing. He had been waiting patiently for her response. Whatever she said would ever make or break this, and for God’s sakes if there’s anything he didn’t want to do it was break this.

“How long?” Her tone was strong.

“How long till I leave?” He was a bit confused by the question.

She nodded.

Bucky felt his heart sink. It wasn’t long. She would not like the answer. It was not good. She concluded this herself by his delayed answer and his stare at the floor beneath him.

She let out an exhausted sigh and a click of her tongue as she turned away from him. Now she was angry.

“Five days.”

They’re silent, standing there letting reality sink in. Minutes pass by. She takes a seat on his bed and takes off her coat. He watches her every move intently, wondering if she would decided to stay for the long haul or run out of his cheap room he dared call an apartment.

“Like I said. I want to know you.”

He heart soars and he smiles. He re opens the cupboard and takes out a box of cookies. He fills up two jars with milk and hands one of them to her as he practically dances over to her. He sits criss crossed on the bed. She chuckles at how innocent he looks just sitting there like that in his dress shirt and suspenders, like a kid.

It’s awkward at first, trying to sit cross cross with a long dress on, but eventually she manages by pulling her dress up around her thighs. Bucky blushes at this. She brings him out of the moment.

“So what are you doing in Brooklyn?"

He smirks, “I live here, Doll.” She gives him a confused look. He takes a deep breath and decides to start from the beginning, “I moved here when I was a teen. My father was in the army since we used to live back in Indiana. I used to go with him to camp, I loved everything about it. The respect those men held, the strong mentality they had, there’s was so much about what they were doing that made me see there was something greater to live for. To make this country better for us, so we can live and be peaceful and happy. There are way too many nasty people out there who don’t deserve to breathe our air. We are good people and I want to save the good people. It’s something serious, putting your life like that on the line. Unfortunately not all are willing.”

Daisy smiles at him talking about his love for the military. She remembers her mother’s words at that moment.

It really was in his heart, his love for humanity, “it’s in my blood, just like dad. I did training in New Jersey where he was stationed.” Mentions of his father makes him trail off for a second and Daisy notices. She places her hand on his, “and then they sent me back here for some additional work just until our physical forms go through to see who gets accepted. Who does leave in five days.”

Daisy perks at this, “So you’re not actually certain if you will leave?”

Bucky chuckles to himself and looks down. He reaches for another cookie, “Doll, my dad was well respected on the forces. They raised me to do the same. They practically have my name already there ready for me. I know I’m not staying.”

Daisy stays silent again. Bucky tosses the cookie back down and reaches for her cheek. She gasps and looks up at him, her blue eyes soft, “I’m not saying this to make this harder. I’m being honest with ourselves, because,” he looks at her eyes and then her lips. She swallows hard when she sees him looking there. Her heart starts to race in his chest as he moves in closer, “because I know all we have is five days and I want to make the most of it. I’ve only known you for a few hours but what I feel with you is something I know will last forever.”

The moment he says this he feels like he’s just put his heart own on his sleeve. Something he has never done. There was no taking it back now. He’s never had a relationship like this before, he prays to God he didn’t just mess it up. He starts getting afraid when she doesn’t respond, she just stares up at him. His eyes swell up slightly and he wants to add that it’s okay if she didn’t feel the same.

But No. he didn’t not want to lose this. So he slides his hand from her cheek even higher up the side of her head through her hair and watching her, “Please tell me you feel the same.” His voice is low and full of emotion. Hopeful.

She’s never felt this. This had to be the boy of her dreams, and now she felt like the one that was dreaming all over again. Just three hours ago she never even knew this man existed, but all of a sudden she felt like she’s known him all her life.

She moves in closer and watches his Adam’s apple bobble up. The proximity was too much to bear. He was too much, and yet she wanted more. She wanted him.

And she only had five days. They had five days.

And they were going to make the most of it.

The moment her lips crashed onto his was a moment he wouldn’t forget. The fire that exploded inside of him was a bright red flame and it burned through his heart. Instinctively, he brings his other hand up as well and slides it to the other side of her face. She slides her left hand up his thigh and he growls against her mouth, their tongues meeting for the first time. It was fast, hard, and needy.

He raises himself up onto his knees so he’s towering above her still criss-cross body. Her hand raises up higher up his thigh and he feels her delicate fingers reaching in his waist band. He growls against her mouth once more.

She uses his belt loop to bring his body downwards as she uncrosses her legs and lays herself down onto his bed. Bucky’s right leg drops down the side of the bed and accidentally kicks the glass over. They’re lips still stay connected and he’s bringing his right hand to the strap of her dress, and now Ella’s voice sounds like a goddamn melody.

He’s about to pull her strap further down but he stops himself.

He pulls away and they’re both breathing heavily, Daisy whimpers at the distance he puts between their lips. The sound makes him want to go back to what he was doing, but he stops himself.

She’s about to question him when he places her strap back against her clavicle. He pats it down gently and the act makes her laugh. His lips are swollen and she kisses them one more time. He moans into her mouth. She pulls away and lets him speak.

“I want to know you, too.” He says.

“We will. We have five days.”

+ + +

Her legs had curled up against her chest as she laid on her side, a single finger making soft patterns against his chest. It moved up and down sharply as his breathing became affected by what her touch was doing to him. He had stared down at her finger and then grabbed it diligently. She watched silently as he used his right hand to unfold her twirling fingers and fold it with his, holding it against his body.

She looked up at him incomplete awe, her eyes drifting down to his approaching lips. He dipped his head just slightly as he brushed his lips against hers.

They had stayed up all night talking about their goals, and what they loved to do. Daisy was a simple, innocent,, young girl. She loved dancing and flowers and she also admired the simplicity of innocence. She grew up in a Christian household and her morals were up there. They both laughed together when she brought up the fact that she never would’ve had thought she’d be cuddled in bed with a man she met only hours before.

They commented about their families, how Bucky’s little sister had been taken away from him not too far back, about his mother’s death.

“What about your father?” She had asked.

Bucky remained quiet as he stared up at her. She noticed his change in demeanor and her eyes squinted. Bucky let go of her hand and switched his position from on his side to on his back. He brought his leg up and folded his hands on his chest.

He felt her shift and lean against him. He looked over and saw her resting on her elbow, her left hand drifting up his neck and into his hair. She pulled on it slightly making him close his eyes.

“James.” She whispered, pleadingly. He opened his eyes and looking into hers.

“He passed away,” he could tell she was going to start saying condolences as her mouth opened but he beat her to it, “this morning.”

He thought she was going to start giving him sympathy, he expected it. But instead he felt her rest her head on his sturdy chest. He was taken aback at first, but then smiled softly and took in a deep breath. He allowed his hand to snake in through her soft blonde hair.

“You’ll get through this. You’re strong.” He swallowed as he felt her hand skim against his chest, feeling him. He didn’t want to push her into anything and was thankful that her hand just went to his waist, pulling his body closer to hers, “I can tell.”

“I want to be with you. And when I get back from war, I want to be with you again.”

+ +

She knew she was taking a risk by inviting him over to her house, but she had wanted him to meet her family. Sure this was fast, but how long did they truly have together? She obviously remembered the stories her mother told her.

Underneath the anxiety, love, and happiness she felt as he helped her mom cut the carrots, she genuinely hoped her parents would love him, too.

“How long have you known this boy, Daisy?” Her mom had asked over her shoulder as she washed some lettuce and tomatoes in some cold water in a bowl under the sink. Daisy bit her lip. Her mom noticed her hesitate, “ Daisy .”

Her tone was judging and all too motherly. Daisy looked up and saw her mom giving her a glare that quickly told her that she didn’t like where this was going. Daisy felt defensive.

“Momma, before you judge me, he’s an amazing gentleman and I fully trust him with everything,” she saw her mom shaking her head to herself and murmur something but the sound of the sink water drowned it out. Daisy got up exasperated and walked over to her mom, “Think about it, when was the last time I brought a boy home? You know I don’t bring just anyone. You are going to love him.”

Her mom smiled and looked over at her, shutting off the water.

“You are lucky I’m me and not your dang fatha’, Daisy.” She washed two more tomatoes, “Do you?”

Daisy gaped at her, not really know how to respond to that. To be fully honest she didn’t really think about it. When it came out while she was cuddly with Bucky earlier that day, it was natural and she hadn’t thought twice about it. But it seemed to soon to tell, but yet not fully impossible. She’d never felt the way she felt that when she was with Bucky. She felt heat creep up into her cheeks and her mom started to smile. The moment was interrupted by a strong voice.

“Love who?”

Both Daisy and her mother’s face fell at the heavy tone that washed over them like pure ice. Daisy’s eyes drifted up to her dad who was standing in the door way. He held a cigar in his right hand, his leather covered foot tapping away. He eyed them both, clearly he was eavesdropping and was not liking where this conversation seemed to have been going.

Daisy gulped. She looked down and fidgeted with her fingers.

“A boy, daddy.”

“Daisy invited him for dinner.” Her mom added casually, draining the water out of the bowl with her hands. The silence was deafening. Her dad could tell she was avoiding his gaze.

He chuckled maniacally as he tapped his cigar with his pointer fingers, some ashes tickling towards the freshly mopped floor. Daisy watched as if it were poison. Suddenly, she was very fearful.

“Is that so?”

Daisy nodded, finally looking up. Her dad looked serious, territorial even.

“Charles, quit scarin’ her. I hear he could be the one.” Her mom winked at her.

Her dad squinted angrily, “The one? And I’m just now hearing about this kid?” He walked over to his wife and rubbed her back soothingly, still giving Daisy a disapproving look, “and did I just hear love?”

Daisy groaned in aggravation, running her hands through her curls, “Mom, stop that.” Daisy sighed as she wiped her hands on her little dress and walked back over to the stool that sat on the far side of the large kitchen, “he’s a great guy. Daddy, I know that, it’s why I invited him today.”

“I just don’t get why I’m not meeting this damn boy.”

Daisy flinched at his tone, “Daddy, please.”

“Then explain it to me!”

Daisy dropped her face into her hands, “I was just worried about you meeting him because he’s not the typical guy you go for. But I do care about him, please, just give him a chance. He’s very sweet.”

Daisy practically felt her father roll his eyes. She looked up and saw a snarl on his face.

A soft knock on the door and Daisy immediately flew out of her seat to open it. Her dad made a comment to Daisy’s mother about agreeing to this in the background, but Daisy was now momentarily too excited to care. She took a deep breath as her hand wrapped around the doorknob.

She opened it and the moment her eyes landed on him, her heart went soaring and she literally felt herself smile. All the anger and fear she felt before dissipated. His reaction was mirrored to hers, his pearly whites making her blush hard. His gorgeous eyes wrinkled at the sides as he smiled. He looked perfect in a soft black suit, underneath it is a white dress shirt, but the top button undone. His hair was in a small quiff and shiny from his pomade.

She extended her hand out to take his in hers and pulled him inside playfully hard. They both giggled together, Bucky’s face leaning down to kiss the top of her cheek. She hadn’t realized how hard she really pulled him until he stood right in front of her, their fronts touching. She was blushing as he stared down at her face and then her lips.

He tilted his head slightly and started to lean down, and her eyes drifted shut, when the moment was interrupted but a cough.

“So you must be the boy Daisy won’t stop going on about.”

Bucky pulled back, red tainting his cheeks. At that moment he realized he had just been caught almost wanting to devour this woman’s daughter’s mouth right in front of her. He stepped back bit and straightened out his back and cleared his throat.

He brought his one hand across his chest and with the other he extended it out for a handshake. No longer lust in his eyes, he was now completely serious, his mission being to impress a high class family. Her mom smiled at how charming he was.

“Mrs Davis.” Bucky greeted with a firm shake and smile.

She could tell by his strong handshake that he had been raised well. She exchanged looks with Daisy, who clearly looked terrified and expectant of what her reaction to him would be. She looks back at Bucky.

“Daisy never mentioned your name.”

“James, mamn.”

“That’s a strong name.”

Everyone looked up to follow the voice. Charles stood there tall and brooding, another cigar in hand. Bucky stretched out his arm once more, too eagerly this time, “Please to meet you, Mr. Davis.”

Bucky waited as Charles stared down at Bucky’s hand, not taking it and clearly not wanting to anytime soon. Bucky stood there awkwardly, fear and rejection creeping into his guts. He slowly lowered his arm, Charle’s gaze not leaving his face.

“You live on the upper east side, too? What’s your Street? You’re dressed like a damn paper boy.”

Bucky’s face fell immediately and Daisy inwardly groaned.

Bucky licked his lips nervously and then fixed his back to stand taller as if to appear powerful. There was no way he was going to let this man tear him down.

“No, sir,” He hates that his voice is shaky. He gives Daisy a nervous side glance and then back to her dad, “I live in Brooklyn, sir.”

Her dad frowned and both Daisy and her mother knew this was going to go down fast.

“Brooklyn,” his tone was disapproving, “What do you do for a living, boy?”

Daisy took a step next to Bucky, “Dad, that’s enough.”

Bucky frowned and realized Daisy hadn’t really told them close to anything about him. While he understood, he was now dreading the whole entire conversation that would go down. Him and Daisy shared a look before Barnes looked back up at Charles.

“I’m in the military, sir.”

Her dad raised an eyebrow as soon as the words left his lips, then a scoff. Daisy looked up to his her mother’s face fallen and sad.

Bucky’s eyes darted between Daisy and her father, suddenly realizing that something that he said was not good.

“Sir, was something I said -“

“Daisy, tell me hows a boy who doesn’t have a real job suppose to be with my daughter? A goddamn soldier? Jesus.”

“For heaven’s sake, Daddy!”

“Charles, stop that!”

Daisy’s mother’s angry voice made everyone go silent at once. Bucky felt small, wanting to fade away into the ground below him.

Charle’s scoffed, tossing his cigar at Bucky’s beat up dress shoes. It was the best pair he owned and even those were not his best. He swallowed hard, trying to not feel small and sad.

“I’m gonna get Jimmy and then we can eat.”

Bucky stared down at the cigar at his feet, his heart feeling heavy. “A goddamn soldier”.

It replayed over and over in his head.

Suddenly, he felt a comforting hand on his back. He looked up and saw Daisy staring down at him, sad.

“Just a goddamn soldier, Daisy?” He motioned upwards with his hand. “What is this?”

Daisy looked down, “James, that’s my father, okay? If anything, let’s just be glad he didn’t kill you. He’s like that with everyone.” That actually did help Bucky feel slightly better as he stood up taller. Daisy’s hand reached up as she cupped his cheek, “And the soldier thing, he’s weird about that. I’m not sure why.”

Bucky stared at her for half a second, doubting every word, before he simply complied and nodded. He smiled slightly.

+ +

The dinner was quiet and tense, and over much too slowly. Bucky had quickly pulled Daisy out into the hallway to say goodbye before he left, groaning into her mouth how he was never going back in there ever again. They both laughed and kissed.

And now here they were at the bar, the night before he had to leave. Bucky didn’t want to leave, because he had a feeling that this would be one of the last few days he would have any peace and serenity. His gut was twisting and turning as he played with the strand of her hair between his thumb and pointer finger. As his gaze drifted from her lips to her blue eyes he just knew deep inside that this is exactly the kind of feeling he wanted to be feeling for all of eternity.

He felt it when he touched her, when he looked at her, and when he held her in his arms.

It was like a wave of fresh air that reminded him of home - Daisy was his new home. He knew it happened fast, they all did, but sometimes true love doesn’t have to be complicated. When its meant to happen, it just simply happens. It’s simple as that - as simple as him tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her that pearly white smile that made the cheeks on her face turn a crimson red.

She leaned her forehead onto his as he held her close by her waist, the piano in the background that was once haunting, now insanely beautiful exactly like the woman in front of him.

When Bucky had told Steve he might ask her to marry him one day.

Those words Steve said kept ringing in Bucky’s head, even as he now held Daisy in his arms, but they meant absolutely nothing to him. She was his sanctuary, his now, and he would take it by the hand.

He would take advantage of these last few hours he had with her and he would pretend all is good in the world and it would stay that way. It had to.

He kept telling himself that so he, himself, could believe it. The truth was it was all going to go downhill, he could tell.

He knew that once he left for New Jersey tomorrow that he wasn’t going to automatically be drafted into war, there wasn’t a necessary need just yet. But his father had told him the speculations of how the US wanted to go after the Nazis, and he knew there was something else his father wasn’t telling him, and it would not be long before hell broke loose.

That’s when Steve and all the others would eventually be even more so analyzed and drafted, and so would Bucky - without a doubt.

Sure, he was courageous. It wasn’t that he was scared to go, but he needed to be certain that Daisy would always be safe. He would surely miss the moments of having her in his arms, safe and happy.

Softly, he took her left cheek in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the top of her cheek bone,. He needed to take advantage of this moment that was staring them dead in the eye. He needed to. It didn’t matter how fast it was, how much he wanted to treat her preciously, and how much he respected her faith. He needed her.

“Come to my apartment with me,” he noticed her gulp and her mouth opened slightly. Daisy’s mouth went dry and she watched his usual blue eyes turn a heavy grey. Bucky smiled slightly, “I don’t want to seem like I’m making you do something you don’t want to, but I just…” his voice drifted off as his gazed dropped slightly. His eyes became clouded with disastrous visions of the future. He blinked it quickly away, wanting to just see the image of Daisy underneath him. Just her and her pearly white skin and those gorgeous lips kissing him.

At that moment Daisy knew exactly what he was asking.

She was a virgin and she had mentioned that to him when they started talking about the topic of her faith. She technically wasn’t supposed to be engaging in anything that was sexual before marriage to which Bucky simply nodded. At that moment, he decided he wouldn’t be too strong on her nor mention anything of his past sex life which would surely leave her blushing. He loved fucking.

But as she stared at him right then and there, realizing this could be the last moment where they’re both happy together and not having to worry about anything, she wanted just exactly the same thing he did. She closed her eyes tightly together and leaned her face closer to his, giving him a deep and sexy kiss on his top lip, biting it as she pulled away.

Bucky practically growled at her action, never seeing this side of her. Daisy was innocent, a classy lady, one that should always be treated as such. Sure, he knew of her passions for burlesque and lingerie (when she told him he had practically tried not to cum right then and there in his bed), but that was a dirty little secret that he concluded shouldn’t be mentioned out loud. She was always that beautiful, young, and morally behaved girl that stole his heart.

When she let go of his top lip, which was definitely throbbing now, he narrowed his lusty eyes at her and took it as a sign of acceptance.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly shaking the whole time he walked her to his dungy little Brooklyn apartment. He looked straight adorable in his little Italian flat hat and suspenders, his coat draped across one of his arms, the other holding her hand as he slid his key into all three locks of the door.

She swore she could see him shake a little too when they had gotten inside and he put his coat on the tiny kitchen table and he turned to her.

The room suddenly felt even smaller, the air between them hot and utterly thick.

He eyed her up and down and swallowed hard. She wore a beautiful black dress that covered every single part of her that he now wanted to see exposed to him.

Her lips were slightly red from the many kisses they shared on the way to the apartment, and her pinup eyeliner was so damn pretty as it shaped her eyes to perfection. She was damn gorgeous and she knew it.

He slid off his dress shoes and then walked over to where she was standing. Her heart hammered away in her chest as his stunning blue eyes traced her body. The moment he finally stood before her, he realized he didn’t want to do with her what he did with every other girl.

He lifted his left arm to the side of her neck and watched her chest fall rapidly up and down. He grabbed her there lightly, and then slid it down the side of her body, eyeing the beauty that was simply her.

“James.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

He grabbed her right hand and pulled her along over to his bed. She looked down at him as he stared up at her, in awe and in love. She brought her hands to his face and touched his perfectly combed hair, smiling.

She stopped when he laid his hands over hers and brought it down between them. His face was now serious as he whispered, “Lay with me.”

He wanted to make love to her tonight.

Did they and it was slow and tender.

+ +

Bucky had told Steve he’d be back soon. It wouldn’t be too long - maybe a month, maybe even a few weeks. Bucky stepped onto the steam train and Steve and Daisy had stood next to each other as they waved him goodbye. The moment he sat down in his seat and the vision of the love of his life and his best friend became nothing but silhouettes, he threw his head back against his cold seat, taking a deep breath. He made a vow to himself that now was the time to make himself, his father, and his country proud.

The only thing he wanted more than his girl was to save the lives of every person he possibly could.

He took an additional deep breath, running a damp hand over his face. He stared up at the iron ceiling as the train swayed side to side and up and down over the slightly uneven tracks, making its way south.

He fidgeted uncomfortably as each horrible made up scenario of what could happen when he arrived went through his mind. He wondered if the chief and sergeant would agree that he’d be as fitting as his father in taking his place and if he’d make the best soldier he always wanted to be.

He took a deep breath and simply leaned his head against the glass.

His blue eyes watched as the scenery of green and trees became the last of peace that he had a feeling he would feel for a very long time.

+ +

Wheaton, New Jersey

The train ride wasn’t long; a little over an hour which was just enough time for Bucky to take his well-needed nap. When he had arrived at the station, he had noted the Jeep he was told that would pick him up along with two others who were on board. He didn’t even bother to meet up with them while onboard the train, wanting to take as much time to himself as he could, knowing it was probably his last opportunity.

The Jeep zoomed down a dirt road and through an intimidating metal gate. Bucky watched as young men ran around the perimeters, training intensely. Others were talking amongst each other as they took their break, sweaty bangs dangling onto their foreheads.

They looked at him in curiosity as his car sped towards its destination, probably wondering what was so special about this guy that he had to get to where he was going so quickly.

Suddenly, the car came to a heavy jolt and a hand slammed down beside him on his seat announcing their arrival. He jumped slightly at the intrusion but took a deep breath and opened the dingy door.

As Bucky stepped off the jeep and into the dirty mud of his new camp, he knew he needed to find his uniform and combat boots as fast as he could.

He stared down in a slight grimace at his freshly destroyed dressed shoes - he had just gotten them shined. He scoffed to himself and dragged it’s front against a random dry patch of grass trying to get off as much as he could. A young man jogged by, kicking some mud up onto Bucky’s new pants. Bucky looked on at the man as he ran, a look of anger written all over his face.

From a distance (from beneath a random tent that provided cover for a rest area, Colonel Douglas Smith watched in amusement the entire scene unfolding.

“This is Barnes’ son? The sniper?” He snarled under a grimace. He turned his head and gave Williams a disappointed look.

Another man -Williams- which sat to his left, looked towards Bucky’s direction over his daily newspaper. He watched on along with Douglas and smirked as Bucky looked around, lost.

His eyes drifted to Smith and then back down at his paper, giving it a slight smack, “Yes, sir.” humor tinted his voice heavily.

Smith shook his head in wonder as Bucky dusted off a piece of lint that was on his coat’s collar, “He better be right about this, or I swear to God.”

Bucky’s eyes scanned his vicinity, eyes narrowing diligently. His eyes finally landed on someone who seemed to be who he should be looking for, judging by their attire and posture of authority. Also, the fact that they had been looking at him first.

“He seems too pretty to be as good as they say.”

“His father says he is the best.”

Colonel Smith eyes Bucky up and down as he made his way over, sporting his new suit and fresh suspenders. As soon as he reached the two men, Bucky nodded at each one and took off his Italian flat hat, tucking it into his armpit revealing a perfectly groomed gorgeous head of hair drenched in pomade.

He reached out with his right arm for the Colonel to shake with a bright smile on his face, “James Barnes.”

“Colonel Douglas Smith,” he nods over to the man sitting down who seems very busy jotting something down, “This is Sergeant William of the one-oh-third.”

“Colonel. Serg.” Bucky confirms with a nod to each.

“Sit, boy.” Colonel demands with a motion of his hand in front of him. Bucky politely abides as he pulls out a chair to sit himself down. Bucky places his hat down in front of him and takes a deep breath, “First, I’d like to give you my condolences.”

Bucky momentarily stalls as his eyes drift back and forth between both men, but then clears his throat nodding, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Your father was a great man. Quite a fighter used to say he raised you from young to be the same way.” Colonel eyes Bucky up and down. Bucky gulps, finally feeling the pressure he had been slightly dreading from the beginning. He knew they were expectant of him, and now he was here to prove it and he wasn’t sure he had the balls of steels he had one day ago, “That true?”

Bucky clears his throat, “Yes, sir.” He leans down to reach into his briefcase and pulls out a beige file. He puts it onto the table and slides it across to Colonel. Smith is impressed by his promptness and professionalism and sees William smile from his peripheral.

“What’s this?”

Bucky clears his throat once again, “Dad trained me for many things,” he took a brief glance around the base, “I experienced boot camp at the age of fifteen. I’ve done long races, obstacle races, everything that tested my endurance, boxing, running- both in the rain and scorching heat. I’ve bled, I’ve learned not to cry and hold my own. I know tactics, I know what it takes to be a soldier, sir,” Bucky notes their faces still hold no expression of amazement he was looking for and he feels his palms sweating harshly, “My father did it so I knew how to be strong and prepared for when the time was right.”

Colonel Smith crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, not yet touching the paper in front of him. Bucky looked on in simple embarrassment from Smith to his folder, wondering if it was pointless to show as much pride as he did.

Smith’s strong voice makes Bucky jump when he starts talking, “You think that because you’ve trained since you were a young boy, but clearly have no experience being on the front line, that you are an American Soldier?”

Bucky automatically becomes defensive and his posture becomes confident. He didn’t like the nagging, the accusation of something he was not. That’s when he realized, he needed to prove himself. He was good, and they wanted to see it.

He leans closer to the table and crosses his hands out in front of him, “No, sir, of course not. Not yet,” His voice was strong and clear. The colonel sat there waiting for what Barnes had to add, “I have no experience yet with being in a war, not yet. But I have other experiences, first-hand experience.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“Guns.” Both Smith and William now give Bucky their full attention, looking straight at him in total interest. Smith even moves up closer to Bucky.

Bucky is almost one hundred percent more confident now than he was ten minutes ago because now he’s finally talking about something he knows he can own up to well. This he enjoyed immensely.

“Sure. Your file we have here does show you are good with targets, that you know what weapon is best for what, that you helped your father when it came to assembling and reassembling them for the troops, and that you are great at knowing the anatomy of a gun but many here can do that with intense training. What do you have that the others here don’t, James?”

The colonel was pressing now, and Bucky at that moment realized that what he was doing was not because he didn’t see a reason to not trust Bucky, but more so so he could prove himself, and this was his chance.

Bucky looked Colonel Smith straight in the eye with a snarl. He slammed one finger down on the table in front of them, “I’m not just good with targets. I hit them all.”

“I do not miss. This file,” Bucky again slams his finger down on the folder in front of them, “There are diagrams, spreadsheets, rough drafts, charts, and all my grades for every algebra, geometry, physics, and trigonometry class I’ve ever taken. All As. It also includes my use of Pythagorean theorems.” Colonel raises an impressed brown and opens the file. His mouth is slightly agape as he reads on what is pages and pages of mathematical equations, transcriptions, and each a different weapon usage.

For a cocky good looking guy, Bucky was clearly very very intelligent - a closet nerd.

“I might no be a soldier yet, but I’m already a good fucking sniper.”

William and Smith are smiling now as they see Bucky in the way they wanted to, “Look, I’ll go out there tomorrow if you need me to. Sure, I’m a kid, but that just means I have the time to learn more. I’m ready to fight.”

Colonel stares at Bucky for a beat. He nods, takes the folder in his hands, and stands up. Bucky looks up at him, “You will be here to assist Serg. William and I. And then we’ll see where we take you from there. We want a hard-headed kid here to help get these other guys in order.” His voice was softer now as he spoke on, “Soon, we’ll be out there in the real world and I feel you’ll do fine, kid. Your health record looks great, I saw your previous training records here at the base and they are impeccable,”

“Thank you, sir-“

“but,” Bucky swallows hard. Smith hands the file over to William, “We want you to focus on shooting. And train these damn ass kids that this isn’t just a game. William will escort you to your temporary quarter.”

Bucky nods and stands up, a wide grin on his face as Smith initiates the handshake this time, “Good luck, Kid.”

+ +

Letters.

That's how he spoke to her for two years. He missed her, he missed Steve, and he missed school. He missed Brooklyn, but he missed her most of all. She was everything he had ever wanted and more.

They refused to lose touch, but it seemed to have gotten harder the longer he spent time away from her. He almost started forgetting what it was she looked like and he did not like that at all.

He hoped more than anything that she didn’t forget what he felt like, what his cock felt like the inside of her pretty self. God, he missed her so much.

He’d be laying down in the bunker after one of her letters where she’d admitted that she missed all of his body, and suddenly he’d find himself a panting mess, a hand wrapped around himself. No other women in his life made him cum as much as she did. She was perfect.

Dad has been gone for four weeks and I don’t know why. Jimmy has gone with him- it’s just me and mother. I overheard her saying something about Germany but I’m not quite sure.. Or maybe it was something else. Though none of that matters to me, James- I want you. Please come home to me.

He would pick up his pen and start writing.

Daisy,

I’ll be home soon, my love. I want and miss you, too.

For some reason, a chill ran down his back as he reread the words “something about Germany”.

Like an awful memory that has never happened, he sees a child in front of him. It was a little girl and she screamed in agony for mercy. She was getting strangled to death by his own hand, a silver glint caught his eye-

“James!”

Bucky jumped up looked upfront his lap from where he was writing to see Williams looking at him in curiosity, waiting.

“Be right there, Sergeant.”

Take care of Stevie for me, Daisy. Be careful, both of ya.

Much love,

Bucky

+ +

He’s standing in front of the men, showing them how to correctly calculate the wind and kickback of a PPSh-41. Ten iron cans laid on the grass as Bucky allowed his gun to swing back towards him. He smirks and slides it back into place in the holster around his waist.

“Johnny, you’re up.” Bucky would announce each boy’s turn until they’ve all managed to hit all targets. Some of them taking more thirty tries each to succeed.

As much as he’d try and teach them how to properly shoot each and every gun they had on hand, it was evident that they’d never be as good as him.

But there were good in other aspects, some of which actually reminded him of Steve back at home.

“Faster.” Bucky would demand as he walked in front of them as they did fifty push-ups each. He knew they could handle it.

Williams and Smith watched from afar as Bucky’s men eventually became some of the strongest and most courageous they’ve seen in a long time.

They shared a knowing look and Smith gave a small nod.

Bucky’s gaze drops from the men he’d grown to love down to his feet. He didn’t expect to be there for two years. He didn’t think he would go that long without seeing Daisy, but they ended up loving having him there.

Within weeks he had the entire infantry under his finger. At first, he wasn’t too keen on yelling at them at what to do and how to do it, but with time he realized it was for their best and they realized that too. He was actually not a complete asshole when it came to bossing everyone around, but to be fair it mostly had to do with the fact that they were all not too much younger than him either, some even older.

+ +

It had been Friday night when Bucky had everyone in their bed by 8 o clock, without a complaint or disobedience.

Bucky sat in his little office under the vintage desk light as he was reading one of Daisy’s latest letters, where she spoke about how her father had come home briefly but was quickly leaving for Siberia within a few weeks and how much she was dying to hold Bucky back in her arms again.

She kept begging and begging him non stop.

Bucky’s face was crestfallen as he wrote back that he promised he would be back, and that he had to talk to her about something special when he saw her again for the first time.

Truth was, he was going to ask her to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her even if it was from such far away. Bucky was tucking the letter into the envelope when someone cleared their throat from his left.

His head snapped and he smiled when he saw it was colonel Smith.

“Bucky, mind if we speak for a second.” Bucky nodded his head and tucked the letter in his back pocket. The colonel noted this with a nod, “That for the lady?”

Bucky smiled slightly, although it was also sad, “Yeah. Miss her,”

Colonel patted a hand on his shoulder, “I know, kiddo.”

They were about to go into Colonel’s office when Smith turned around. Bucky practically walked into him, not expecting him to stop so suddenly in his path. Bucky’s face was serious and he felt worried at the tension that quickly grew, “What is it, Colonel?”

Contemplating before speaking, he looked over Bucky’s shoulder, “The men love you,”

He looked back at Bucky, “You’re good. Really good.”

Bucky should’ve been proud of his words (he was slight) but he could tell something was going on. Smith’s tone and his eyes were off, something was clearly up.

“What’s going on?”

The colonel looked down. It looked like for a second that he was going to back out on telling Bucky. But clearly this wasn’t something anyone could control anymore, “They want them in.”

World War II had merely started about a little over a year ago. Nazi Germany was at its peak and troops were being sent out constantly. Bucky knew there were several infantries being sent in, along with the heavy draft. Bucky had spoken to Steve back at home and Steve kept mentioning about the guys all being deployed out, but not all. They were still trying to recruit more as time came, seeing who was eligible and who wasn’t. Bucky tried to convince Steve as much as possible to quit trying to join the army, to stop lying on his forms to get accepted.

At their base, they were training until they were to be pulled out.

And now was the time.

“But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

Bucky’s heart plummeted for a fraction of a second. He wondered what else he possibly had to say.

Colonel turned into his office and allowed Bucky to follow behind. Bucky closed the door behind him, reluctantly and with a hard swallow.

“There’s a group being deployed in two days. To England, the one-oh-seventh.”

Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat. Pride filled deep within his gut and he tried to contain as much excitement as he could.

Smith went around his desk, “We agreed that you’re more than suitable to be deployed as well. So you’ll be with them.”

Bucky smiled. It was finally his time. It wasn’t just his men, but him as well.

“When?”

“A couple of weeks. The week before you’ll be allowed one week at home to see your friends,” Colonel looked at the letter that was peaking out behind him, “and your girl.” Bucky felt like he was going to cry from excitement at this point. Colonel’s face was still serious, “we want to assign you as an official Sergeant.”

The earth seemed two have shifted for a moment while Bucky processed the words. He couldn’t believe they would want him to serve at that level. Bucky’s brows raised in surprise as he stood motionless.

A soldier he always knew he would become one day, it was practically in his blood, but “Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir.” Smith crossed his hands out in front of him and stared up at Bucky, hopeful, “I knew the moment you started talking that you were different. You’re good, you’re loyal, you’re a true born soldier just like your father always said you were. You wouldn’t dare lay a hand on something unless they were worth it. You know how to take charge and you’re willing to be on the front line.”

That same image of a tormented child being strangled to death by a hand flicker’s through his mind's eye, except now the kid is thrown against a brick wall, completely deceased.

Bucky swallows hard, “My men, they will be with me?” He knew the answer because he was already told upfront but Smith but he needed to be sure. He needed to know all of them would be there by his side when he killed Schmidt.

“Yes. Drafting starts soon, son. You’ll be home for a little bit to say goodbye.” Smith smiled, “Go get your girl.”

+ +

He’d made sure all their beds were made before they all left to say goodbye to their loved ones one last time, and he made his as well. What good Sergeant would he be if he weren’t the best example if he were a hypocrite?

He hadn’t told Steve nor Daisy that he was coming home- wanting it to be a surprise. He stepped off the train, a tailored uniform, his new Sergeant cap on his head, and a pin on his left chest. He was ready.

A sharp wind blew in from the west, making him frown slightly in pain. The January air burned him like fire but yet gave life at the same exact time. This was reality and it was like a slap to the face. He was here to say goodbye.

Bucky had grabbed a paper from the boy at the train station and saw something about Howard Stark’s Expo and he felt like a little boy all over again. He loved Howard Stark, to be frankly honest he was quite a nerd for it. Not only did he make the best weapons that Bucky would love to have his hands on one day, but he also loved how smart and genius he was. How he was never afraid to reach the unreachable and to do what no one else had the guts to. He would kill to meet him one day and just tell him how amazing he was.

So he had to go to his expo before he left. He was ready to see his best friend and his girlfriend and that’s exactly who he was going to go with.

Bucky had been walking excitedly from the train station to Steve’s house, but he was not expecting to see him getting beaten up by a gentleman in an alley outside a theatre.

Anger blew up inside of Bucky as he ran towards the scene, “Hey!” He called out, grabbing both of their attention.

When Steve saw Bucky his eyes lit up.

Bucky grabbed the bully by his collar and kicked his ass while Steve watched from the corner of the dirty alley.

“I think you like getting punched.”

Bucky said as he helped Steve off the floor.

“I had him on the ropes.”

Bucky decided not to comment any more on how Steve needed to lay off and instead wanted to spend the last few hours he had with his best friend and his girl. He told Steve about how he was sergeant now for the 107th and that he was leaving for England in the morning the next day.

But he was also excited to share with Steve the one thing that Steve knew Bucky loved the most - Stark. When Bucky pulled out the newspaper that showed the expo that was happening that night, Steve notices the fanboy smile written all over his face. He couldn’t wait to pick up Daisy so they could all go.

When Bucky and Daisy saw each other for the first time, he had spun her around so hard her dress spun with her. Bucky kissed her so hard and she cried as she told him how much she missed him.

Steve just stared back in boredom.

“Are we going, or…?”

They both giggled and Bucky punched him playfully on the shoulder, “Come on, punk.”

The three of them walked into the expo. Steve was looking around in awe while Bucky had the biggest grin on his face as he held Daisy’s hand. She wore a beautiful dark drey below-knee dress and brown leather oxford heels and her lips were coated in the most beautiful shades of red.

It was everything Bucky had ever dreamed of. Stark literally blew his mind, especially when he brought out the beautiful to die for women and then make a car fucking fly. Even if it was for just a second.

Bucky’s heart soared.

Daisy looked up at him wonder and she watched his face light up in pure happiness. She didn’t know someone could be so beautiful and that she could love someone so much. She raised her right hand up to his face as a firework went off behind his head in the sky. It was blue - the same shade of his eyes.

He wasn’t expecting that gesture from her at that moment, so when he felt her soft little fingers on the side of his face, he snapped his head down to look at her. Her smile faded as he gave her a look of pure want.

She traces his lips with her thumb and leaned her head down on his chest. Her heart soared even more as he brought her to him in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head and then told Steve that they should call it a night.

Steve gave Bucky a tight hug and told him to be safe.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky warned him with a smile.

When Steve split ways with the couple at his door, he knew exactly what they were up to. He was happy for his best friend, he just hoped they weren’t too emotionally involved more than anything. He didn’t want to see Bucky get hurt.

He looked at his best friend with a weird sorrow. He wasn’t sure why something in his gut was telling him that this happiness, this simpleness, was going to be very short-lived.

+ +

When they had gotten back to his apartment, he had her against his door and his lips were on hers.

This was it.

Snippets of that flash of that dead child kept hitting Bucky over and over as he kissed Daisy up against his door.

He tried to get rid of those images as much as possible as he grabbed her gorgeous legs, pulling them around his waist.

That seemed to have done the job perfectly because he felt himself growing hard for her.

“Please.” She pleaded desperately over his lips. He pulled away from her for a second and just stared at her beautiful face trying to take it all in. Reality hit them like a truck as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. This was goodbye, for a while.

He leaned in slowly, and this kiss was different. It was love and care, and so much need. A need for forever. He felt tears building behind his lids as the thought of never getting the chance of holding her like this ever again tried to take over his brain. She tightened her legs around him, her hands going to the straps of his belt.

“God, I missed you, Daisy,” He moaned against her mouth. He brought his right hand between her legs, pushing her panties to the side. He slid one finger from her clit down her slick slit and her head fell back with a thud against his door. She groaned out loud at the sensation that wracked through her body, “Missed the sounds you make. I love you so much.” He growled against her.

She ran her hands through his hair and pulled his face away from her neck to kiss him deeply again. She nodded against him as her hips met the rhythm of his hand, confirming that she felt the same way.

“Please take me, James.”

He walked them over to his bed and gently laid her down. She stared up at his lustful eyes, her lips swollen from his kiss, and her dress bundled up at her waist.

Bucky didn’t waste two seconds to pull it off her. Next, she helped him pull off his uniform jacket and shirt, revealing his gorgeous abs that she wanted to lick over with her tongue.

Next, she removed his pants.

She slowly tucked her fingers into the underside of his underwear as she bit her lip. It was obvious that she was teasing him.

“Just take it off.” He ordered.

She did as told and practically whimpered as his hard cock was revealed to her. She sat up and reached behind herself to unclasp her bra.

When he saw her perky breasts, he leaned down and kissed her once more. The first time they had sex it was different. It was innocent and timid, but now that he knew her body and she wasn’t so shy anymore, it was more carnal. The first time was about opportunities and their future.

But this, this felt like goodbye.

“I can’t wait, Daisy. I need you.” He confessed as he laid her down all the way. She nodded against his understanding.

He stretched out his left hand to hold onto the headboard while the other grabbed his pulsing shaft. She spread her legs and he slid into her with a long moan.

He looked down at her and watched as she arched her neck back in pleasure, the nails of her left hand digging into his sides.

“Faster.” She moaned.

The other thing that was different about this time was how fast it was. The first time it lasted for almost an hour, they had made love in the most sensual way that left his skin crawling. This time they were both so close so fast, they just needed that release due to being away from each other for so long.

She was practically screaming as he fucked her fast and oh so deliciously into the bed below her. It was so good that after only a few minutes she was looking down at the spot where they both met, her lips formed into a perfect o.

She started nodding quickly. She cried. Bucky groaned as he twitched inside of her, his pleasure growing just as strong as hers. He was right behind her. He put his other arm up on the headboard too, letting his restless hips do all the work.

All that was heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin and their moaning.

He picked up his pace as he stared deeply into the blue orbs. When she shut her eyes she let out a silent scream, and he felt her clench around his cock.

That did it for him. He whimpered.

He increased his speed until he felt his own end approaching, and it was going to be strong. When it did, he groaned, tightening his grips on the headboard, making it bang against the wall behind them. He continuously slammed his hips harsh against her.

“Fuck.” He groaned slipping out of her. She watched in awe and as he stroked himself so fast his hand became a blur - little spurts of white falling over her pretty tummy.

His eye drifted back to her face and he watched as a smile played on her lips. Her face was extremely flushed as she bit her bottom lip in a way that made him want to take her again. He chuckled lightly. It made his heart heavy, and he knew that now was the perfect time to ask her what he had been wanting for the last two years.

He let go of the bed and laid himself next to her. He placed his left hand above her hand and the other on the side of her face. They watched each other in complete love before he kissed her long and hard.

When he pulled away, she felt him slightly shaking and noticed the look of nervousness in his eyes. She swallowed hard.

“Daisy,” he whispered. He traced her features with his hand, and just like that the fear escaped his eyes, and instead of scared he was now feeling complete love and he was ready because knew this is what he wanted forever.

+ +

Diamond ring on her hand, big heart in his chest, Bucky Barnes had been ready to devote his life her and to love.

Life had other plans for him.

Why be a husband when he could be brainwashed into becoming the Head of Hydra?

Why love with his heart and soul when he could kill and become the world’s greatest assassin?

They’re at the New York Library. Steve stands behind him, hands in pocket and eyebrows furrowed together.

70 years later, Bucky detests himself for who he has become. He hates it all. He hates that he woke up.

His hand trembles as he reads the article. It’s worn out, ink faded.

YOUNG WOMAN, FOUND IN HALLWAY, SHOT

Reason unknown, ongoing investigation

The blonde 21 year old was found shot through the skull in the five story building but an other woman after a shot was heard.

The woman states: “There was blood everywhere. It reeked of disaster. The poor girl was always so quiet and sweet.”

Her family has been under investigation after her father’s disappearance —

Bucky’s heart shattered, but those beautiful memories still stayed fresh in his mind.

Present

You watched him from underneath your lashes as his chest slowly moved up and down. He looked deep in thought, as if his mind had been somewhere else, even though he was physically there.

As his eyes examined you across the bed, you wondered what was going through his head.

You were shocked when he stretched out his arm and you felt his hand run through your hair, letting his thumb linger over the back of your neck.

“What does it mean?” He asks. His voice is deep and filled with emotion.

He’s asking about your tattoo.

“Nothing.” You say breathlessly.

His eyes were enthralling.

“There’s no meaning?”

“No.” You eyes leave his and you look out towards the direction of the dining area.

“Why did you get it?” He asks.

“It was in the moment. It felt like it would be thrilling; fun. The thought of forever made it even more so.” You say without a thought, letting your eyes close.

His hands don’t leave the back of your neck, and his touch remains gentle.

“You’re absolutely insane.” His tone has a chirp to it that you’ve never heard before and a near chuckle escapes your chest. He rubs his thumb there again it sends a jolt into your stomach. You open your eyes again to take a peak at him and the looks he’s giving you must’ve triggered something in your own appearance because his eyes furrow together, “What?”

“You reminded me of someone.”

He swallows thickly.

“Yeah?”

“Will.” You feel your throat grow tight at the mention of his name. Bucky senses a change in your tone and he knows that whoever this Will is, he had an impact on your life, “He died just a few days before Fury found me. He was my best friend. He was sweet, humble, funny, sarcastic, optimistic,” there’s a crack in your voice and Bucky’s breath hitches, “I loved Will. He was supposed to be here with me. We were coming to the Capitol together.” Bucky watches you intently as you speak so fondly of your dear friend. Emotions consume him and he’s in a warped daze, right hand that had been on your tattoo running up the side of your face and into your hair, “he was the only friend I ever had.”

Your eyes meet his and he sees in the tears in your eyes. He looks at you confused, fingers tightening in your hair.

“And then after I laid him to rest, I walked into the woods. I was crying and I was angry at him for leaving me. I fell down at slope, hurt my hand and my leg —” Bucky says your name quietly but you ignore him, “it was dark. I was afraid. But I wanted to continue on. Deep down I know I did. I needed to do it for Will. Then this man came and he was going to ruin everything, so I killed him. I had to,” it’s the first time you’re addresses your killing so verbally and so emotionally and it affects you more than you thought, “I had to kill him.” Bucky watches with concern as your fingers tremble against the sheets, “And then Fury found me and took me to your camp. I met Steve, and then I met you.”

Bucky pulls his hand away moments later.

You both lay there in silence. It’s the most you’ve spoken to each other since the night he first fucked you.

After you had sex in the kitchen, you both had separated quietly, going your separate ways until night time. You both slept on opposite sides of the bed and a couple feet apart.

It wasn’t even that it was awkward. There’s was just too much unsaid and still too much tension. You kept falling harder and harder, and you were getting weaker.

The next day you had gone to work and Bucky had found a plan to get into Ashen’s tower.

A day later, you finally spoke again.

At nights it was the hardest. You hated his sudden silence.

You hated that you had no idea what the hell was going on anymore.

Your eyes met in an intense gaze.

Bucky watched curiously as your left hand grazed over the sheets and up over his waist. You watched as his breath hitched, his breathing picking up.

“What the hell are we doing, Bucky?” You asked sincerely.

Part of you genuinely wondered if he was only doing this with you because you were the only girl available.

“Fucking.” He spats out too quickly. He continues to watch you as tug your fingers into the band of his dark grey sweats, “we’re fucking.”

You feel a surge of energy build its way up your body. You don’t know if it’s lust or anger, and it scares you that you can’t distinguish it. You begin to wonder if possibly it’s both.

You move closer into him dragging his sweats down as best as you could. Bucky had to help you by lifting his hips off the bed for a second. He lets out a long breath as his length escapes the confinements of his pants.

Your heart hurts as you take in his glorious body and his face. The face of a boy that you wished could give you more than this, the face of a boy that changed your life.

Because even though he was pure man, you knew deep down inside he still felt young. He felt robbed. You hated that you wanted to take him in any way you could. You hated that you loved making him cum and that he let you.

Eyes darting down to his half soft cock, you lick your bottom lip. You take him into your hand, thumb sliding over his tip. Bucky lets out a tight moan. It comes out heavy and needy.

His reaction gives you a boost and you give him a few languid strokes.

“Over the head, and under it.” He tells you with a gruff. You do as told, watching as pre cum oozes out of his hole. Bucky groans, stretching his right leg out. He mumbles something you can’t make out. Your look up to see him quickly lick his hand and the replace yours with his own over his growing dick, “Like this.” He curved it up towards his body and he teaches you how to stroke. You watch amazed as his flesh hand moves over his cock, noting how where his thumb and pointer finger meet focuses on the edge of the mushroom tip.

You put your hands over his and he lets himself go, letting you take charge again.

The feel of his saliva on your palm over his cock is filthy. Dirty. Fucking sexual.

You mimic his actions from earlier for about a minute until you decide to lick a strip up the underside of his shaft.

You hear him gasp underneath you and a heavy hand meets the back of your head. You look up at him timidly and he’s looking down at you. He looks as sinful as ever. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is agape. You can’t tell if it’s the pleasure you’re giving him or if he’s shocked.

It kills him how innocent you look with your head between his legs. Your lashes are so long and pretty and, oh, your lips look small plush too. You keep eye contact as you flick the tip of your tongue over his tip and a whine escapes his throat. You do it again, and again.

“Oh my god.” He moans. You take him into your mouth little by little, careful to not let your teeth scrape him.

You bob your head up and down, your right hand stroking what you can’t take down your throat.

You feel his hands pulling your hair into a makeshift pony tail and you groan around him.

“Fuck.” He gasps at the vibrations. One of his hands leave your head but the other stays there, helping you; guiding you.

You sit up up until your butt is in the air, with him still in your mouth, and your place your hands on his thighs. You take a deep breath, and he watches as you lower your head down his cock, as deep as it could go.

The chocking sounds are erotic to both your ears.

Bucky is breathing harder now and he takes your head in both of his hands, running his fingers gently down the sides as he slides you up and off his cock.

When your eyes meet, his looks lust blown. His gaze is briefly on your now swollen lips, and then he composes himself, hands going down to the hem of your white camisole dress.

He helps you pull it off in one go followed by your underwear. As soon as it’s off your feet you go to sit up when he stops you.

He grabs your pillow and places it behind you. You sit back. Bucky gives your body a hungry look as he grabs each of your knees, bending your legs up. He gives them a shove away from each other.

You feel exposed and naked and you know he can see just how soaked you are. You whimper as he slides to fingers up your bare and freshly shaved folds. He lets out his own moan as he gathers your juices onto the tips of his fingers, smearing them over your clit.

Shocked, you watch as he leans down until his front is almost perpendicular to the bed. He kisses the inside of your thigh, nibbling it as he makes his way to your center.

You feel his hot breath against your cunt as he tells you to put you to grab his head.

In a euphoric daze, you do as you’re told. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you as he licks your clit. You feel two of his fingers spread your lips and then he’s licking at you, feeding on you like you’re his favorite meal.

You groan, shoving his head closer to your pussy.

“Oh, shit.” You moan when he enters two flesh fingers into your as he sucks on your bundle of nerves.

Your left leg kicks out as he sucks and sucks. You’re breathless as you look down, the sigh of his head between your thighs being the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, god.” You say.

He looks up at you and you’re gasping. His eyes don’t leave yours as he continues to fuck you with two fingers, the tip of his tongue now flicking at you like mad.

You let out a heavy groan, your head tossing backwards in pleasure.

You feel him pull away and you whimper at the loss of feeling. You feel him grab the side of your waist and he’s pulling you against him until he’s back into the same position he was before.

Bucky leans over the side of the bed and goes into his night stand. You don’t know how to feel when you see him grab a box of condoms.

Did he buy that? Did he know he didn’t want it to be just a one time thing? He didn’t want it to be a one time thing?

You rips box and tosses almost angrily, and when he’s got the foil in his hand, he tears the edge with his teeth.

He slides the condom over his dick and then gently grabs your arms.

“I’ve never…” you stutter as you sit on his lap.

“I know you haven’t, i’ll teach you.” He slides you up and down over his cock, coating it with your slick. You’re leaned over him gasping and he’s grinning his teeth, “You can ride my cock, can’t you?” He purrs up at you so deliciously you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from whimpering, “I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum. I want us to cum together.”

Your movements quicken as his words turn you on. He takes himself in his hand and rubs his tip up and down over your slit before finally pushing into your heat.

You both groan simultaneously. The pleasure is mutual and you both feel full and satisfied, for the first time. He’s gasping, both hands taking a hold of each side of your face.

He hates what this has become. He hates that his emotions are at an all time high right now.

His eyes look into yours as you move up and down and he remembers why he was so afraid of loving again.

As you move over him, he knows he wouldn’t be able to handle it if something bad were to happen to you. As you fuck yourself on his cock, he knows he can’t fall down that rabbit hole again. He tried so hard to make you hate him and yet here you were, letting him fuck you.

You couldn’t like him. Not emotionally and not physically. It was for your own good. He was bad news, he knew he was.

Everything he touched always got destroyed. It always died.

He was cursed.

Your cunt gives him a perfect squeeze and he shouts.

“God, Y/N.” He cries, grabbing your hips and driving you down faster and harder.

He bends his legs and the sound of your skins hitting echoes around the loft.

Dirty.

Your hand goes to your pussy and you rub yourself furiously.

“Oh yeah.” You moan. He moans back in response, his own hips lifting off the bed to fuck into you.

He tells you to rest your hands on the pillow next to his head and you do so.

He grabs your hips and starts ramming up into you.

Looking down, his face is only a few inches from yours and you wished you could kiss him. You wonder if he can see past your lie of just wanting him for sex. You wanted so much more than an orgasm.

He was killing you.

With one of his ruthless trusts, he hits that spot inside of you that makes you see sparks and you feel your end approaching.

You’re breaths come out of your nose in sharp huffs, fingers curling into the pillow case.

You scream when he leans himself up, taking the side of one of your breasts into his mouth. His nibbles you with a growl.

You know he’s getting close too because his eyebrows are tight together and there’s a thin sheet of sweat over his body.

You cum beautifully over his dick. You know you’re probably shouting but you don’t care because there is absolutely nothing that could ever feel better than this. He helps you drag it out and he rams into you and you look down to see his eyes tightly closed.

You rub a thumb over the tops of his left cheek.

“Cum for me.” You whisper.

His mouth gapes open and he gives you a few more strong thrust before they start to falter. He lets out a loud and animalism grunt, followed by a slap to your right ass cheek.

You’re both panting as you collapse on top of him.

+ +

The building’s security infrastructure was a lot less advanced than Bucky had planned for, which was a great thing. He half expected to have to divert more cameras and more security. Especially for a Hydra centre.

Or maybe he was just that stealthy.

He had commenced his part of the mission earlier in the afternoon than he usually did, but that was because he wanted to see if he could catch Ashen this time.

Just as planned, at three forty five sharp, Ashen and three other man came in through the main entrance.

Bucky, having come in through a weak and dingy window across the building, watched from afar as they took the elevator. On cue, Bucky took the door to the stairwell.

He made it quickly to the seventieth floor until he hear the familiar voice. Waiting until it was far enough and he could no longer hear anything, Bucky stepped out into the hallway.

He makes sure to avoid directly sight of any cameras he sees along the way. So many years as the world’s most dangerous assassin gave him the stealth and experience needed to do it successfully. He would go undetected.

The building was modern and gorgeous. There were glass panels and long hallways. Bucky followed the men from a safe distance until they finally walked into a room, closing the door behind them. Bucky tried to maneuver as best as he could without being seen.

When he turned he saw something that left him stunned.

It was a medical bay, expect that there was just one bed.

He could see Ashen and those few men, who were now adorning lab coats.

What caught Bucky off guard was the little boy laying in the bed, unconscious. There were several tubs and IVs coming in and out of his little body. He was a strange color, almost light green. Ashen sat next to the boy, sad.

Bucky watched carefully as Ashen took the little boy’s hand in his.

“Hey, kiddo. Daddy got you a gift this time. It’s not the usual one you like, but I figured you’d still love it.” Bucky watched as Ashen pulled something out of his suit pocket. It was a Hershey kisses. Ashen placed it on the bed, “You need to wake up, buddy. It’s the only thing left before we can figure this out. Please, Ashens.”

Bucky’s heart sunk as the kid’s father’s head dropped down onto the bed. His hand ran over his head, the other continued to hold onto Ashens’ hand.

“Sir?” One of the men in the lab coats speaks.

“Yes?” Ashen responds.

“We can hold him on the machines for a few more months, but if things don’t start to look up —-”

“I don’t want to hear it. He will wake up. He will stay on the machines until I say otherwise.” He snaps, “We already have Stark technology being detected within the walls, we can’t afford to lose guard now. We are getting closer!”

“Sir—”

“He’s my son!” He shouts.

Bucky starts to back away when he hears someone about to turn the corner. He hides behind one of the walls that lead into a room until the close is clear. He finds his way back the way he came.

He needed to find you.

+ + +

“Pour me a Knob Creek on the rocks, sweetheart.” The man slurs, giving you a nod towards drinks behind you.

You tried not to groan as you gave him a fake smile. You quickly poured him the drink and slid it across the bar to the douchebag who wouldn’t stop eyeing you like a piece of meat.

“I’ll have the same.”

A voice says on the opposite side. You look over and you feel fear creep up in your bones.

Silas.

You nod, hands shaking as pour his drink.

He watches you closely.

“You nervous about something?” He asks.

You let out a shaky chuckle.

“No.” You say bluntly.

You slide him the drink and he takes it, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

“I won’t bite.” He says.

You look away. Shit did he remember you?

“Didn’t think you would.”

You go to turn around when he grabs your wrist. Your blood runs ice cold and your freeze on the spot. You can feel your heart beating away inside of your chest.

His eyes are intense as they stay on you.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asks.

You let out another chuckle.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re not a whore?”

His blunt question insults you. You know he means one of the call girls down stairs, but it still bothers you.

“I’m a bartender.” You insist.

“Bartender?” His grip tightens slightly.

He stares into your eyes and you feel threatened.

Did he remember?

“Hey, everything alright out here?” You turn around, relieved to see Pietro behind you.

Silas quickly lets go of you and returns to his drink.

Pietro looks up from your wrist to Silas with a raised brow.

Your heart only calms down a bit before you clear your throat.

“You okay, Marina?” He asks you in the corner where Silas won’t hear.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Pietro doesn’t believe you and you can tell by the way he looks at you.

“If you ever have any issues with anyone here, please let me know.” You nod, “Good. Have a good night, you did good today.”

You give him another short nod, still unable to breathe properly.

+ +

Bucky was standing out on the balcony when you came home. He looked to be deep in thought about something so you gave him the space he needed. You avoided the bedroom and instead hung out for a bit on the couch, trying to process what happened tonight and how you would tell Bucky. You knew for certain he was going to flip out. Or maybe it was just your paranoia and he would tell you to relax and that you were overreacting.

You weren’t sure what would happen.

Bucky doesn’t decided to come inside until you’re in the kitchen grabbing some left over take out from yesterday. He stands in the entrance for a few seconds before sitting down at the table behind you.

“We need to talk.” He says.

You wait a few seconds before sitting in front of him. He’s looking down at his hand on his leg instead of at you.

He bites his lip and scoffs, disappointedly.

What was going on?

He stands up, runs his hands through his hair and begins to pace around.

“We shouldn’t have done this. Any of this. It was a mistake. I knew it would’ve been bad. A distraction. We shouldn’t have done this.” His mumbling under his breath and not making any sense to you.

“Bucky, what’s going on?” You ask quietly and concerned.

He walks over to the counter and slams his flesh fist on it.

“What the fuck are we doing?” He shouts, “We’re supposed to be working, focusing on this mission, and instead,” he spins around pointing out the kitchen, “instead we’re out there fucking, Y/N. We’re acting like a bunch of fucking animals, humping each other’s brains out!”

“Bucky —”

“I knew, I knew this would’ve been a bad decision. I fucking knew I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“You need two people to have sex, Bucky.”

“You should have never told me you wanted to fuck me.”

“I never told you to fuck me. I was only telling you how I feel. That’s all I’ve been doing this entire time.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.”

“You’re the one who told me you wanted to fuck me, Bucky! You’re the one that bought a fucking damn box of condoms while I was taking a damn shower!” You’re angry now as you stand up from the chair, “Don’t you dare tell me this was all me or all you, this was both of us.” You jammed a finger into his chest, “You bought me fucking plan B just so I couldn’t get pregnant with your damn child and then you fucked me again not even an hour later. Don’t you fucking dare.” You can feel the tears in your eyes.

He grabs your fingers and walks you back until your back is against the wall. He snarls down at you.

“Then fuck it. We like to fuck. Either it’s me or you or both us, fine. But we shouldn’t have done it.”

You want to push him away from you as you feel repulsed by him.

“Yeah? Was that what was going through your mind as you were shoving my head down your cock, Barnes? Making me choke on it? Or when you fucked me up against our window so our neighbors could see? I don’t have to fuck you ever again.”

“Good —!”

“—I literally told you I loved you and you attacked me for it—”

“—because it’s obviously only making everything worst—”

“—I then sleep with you, I gave you my virginity, and you have the audacity to stand here and say I seduced you when I gave you my innocence!” You shoved him away and he stumbled back. Your face felt red and you feel furious. You were shocked you weren’t crying, even though you felt like it, “Huh?” You give me another shove, “How fucking evil are you? You gaslighting piece of shit.”

He looked at you after that and your breathing was the only thing that could be heard. His face was stern and turned into a scowl as he looked down at you.

“I’m evil?” You took deep breaths through your nose to control yourself, “No, yeah you’re right, I am. I know I’m a piece of shit. I’m abnormal.” He spat the same words out you had used against him the other day, “I’m so damn evil, Y/N, that I’d rather try and focus on this damn mission than worry about getting laid.” You’re both breathing hard now. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah, maybe before I was thinking with my cock instead of my head, but it needs to stop now. Last night was the last time.”

You could feel your heart thundering away inside of you. You squinted your eyes at him, seeing the underlying discomfort in his eyes.

“What happened today?” You ask slowly, carefully. He doesn’t answer you and you start to get angry again, “I come home, I found you outside looking all depressed and now you’re in here snapping at me about focusing on the mission. What. Happened. Today?” You emphasize through clenched teeth. He takes a deep breath again, looking away from you he runs a hand through his hair and turns away from you.

“They know we’re here. We weren’t careful enough.” He says.

Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach along with your worst fears.

“What?”

“They know we’re here! I fucking followed them and I overheard them. We either weren’t careful enough or —- I don’t know!” He’s pacing again, “Your parent’s must’ve put in some kind of tracker to make the capitol aware or something of stark technology or maybe Hydra pre installed something. Whatever it is, they know we are here, and for all I know they could be watch us right now. We fucked up.”

You watch him as he stresses over this. He grabs at his hair.

“They don’t know it’s us, Bucky. If they did they’ve would’ve caught us by now.” You tick your jaw as you watch the muscles in his back flex, “Something happened at work today, too. I think Silas remembered me.”

Bucky scoffs, turning around again to face you.

“There’s no way he remembers you. We wiped him.”

“Maybe you’re right, but he was acting off. He came to order a drink and he grabbed me —”

“He grabbed you?”

“Just my hand. I was fine. Pietro showed up, sensed the tension, and Silas backed off.”

“Fuck.”

You take a deep breath, stepping away from Bucky.

“You’re right,” you eye him up and down, “We can’t let it happen again. We need to focus on this and I’m already exhausted from you.”

“Exhausted from me?” His voice is a low timber now, the anger from before having died over.

“You don’t even know the amount of emotional turmoil you put me through, do you?” He continues to stare at you quietly and you take another step towards him, “You took something I can never get back.” You say quietly, “And it’s up for you to decide what that something is.”

+ + +

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

Text

sweater weather

summary: The weekend before Halloween finds the BAU at a local farm, and there’s a bet on who’s going to solve the corn maze first.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: none

a/n: happy halloween! this is just something nice and fluffy for the fall season. i ended up researching corn mazes in virginia for this. (liberty mills is an actual farm in the area)

word count: 2.1k

song: sweater weather by the neighbourhood

masterlist

There’s three things every agent who starts working at the FBI’s Quantico office quickly learns about the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

First, the unit has the best case solve rate in the Bureau. Second, yes, they really do have their own jet. And third, everyone in it has a mean competitive streak. There’s no such thing as a casual bet with any of them.

You’re no exception. You don’t make it onto one of the FBI’s most elite units by keeping your head down.

And it’s that competitive nature you all possess that finds you wandering through a corn maze on a chilly October afternoon with Spencer at your side.

It’s safe to say it gets away from you sometimes.

---

It started off innocently enough. Ten minutes before the end of work on Friday, JJ approaches Spencer with a question.

“Are you and (Y/N) busy this weekend?”

“Um, I didn’t have any plans,” he replies, then turns to you. “Honey?”

“Not unless sleep counts as a plan,” you say with a shrug. The team had returned from a case yesterday that had taken nearly a week to solve. You’d slept well cuddled up with Spencer last night, but still had plenty to make up for. “What’s up, JJ?”

“Well, it’s the last weekend before Halloween, and Henry’s been dying to go pick out a pumpkin,” she says. “So Will and I said we’d take him to Liberty Mills farm tomorrow to pick one out from their patch. But, he wanted me to ask Uncle Spencer if he’d come, too, to help him pick out one that’s perfect.”

Spencer’s face lights up immediately. “I’d love to.”

JJ smiles right back. “Great! He’ll be so happy.”

“You know, Liberty Mills farm has the largest corn maze in the United States this year,” he says. “On average, it takes thirty minutes to an hour for the first and second trails, and two to three hours for the third level.”

Morgan joins the conversation. “And let me guess, pretty boy: you think you can solve it faster than that.”

“I’m not sure, actually. I haven’t ever gone through a corn maze.”

You look at him incredulously. “Really? You, of all people, haven’t done a corn maze?”

Spencer frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You love this time of year. Corn mazes are just such a fall thing that it surprises me that you haven’t done one before,” you explain.

“I don’t love fall,” Spencer corrects. “I love Halloween.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Bold words from a man who’s ordered a pumpkin spice latte every morning for the last three weeks.”

You take a moment to enjoy the blush that paints his cheeks at your words, then speak to JJ. “What time are you guys leaving?”

“We’re aiming for around nine,” she says. “It takes about an hour to get there. We can give you a ride, of course, but I’m guessing the two of you don’t want to be crammed into the backseat of our car for that long.”

Truthfully, it wouldn’t bother you much. You know Spencer would take the middle seat so he could sit next to Henry, leaving you with the better one. But the man is made of legs, and he’d get uncomfortable quickly with them squeezed into a tight space. The last thing you want is for his knee injury to flare up and leave him in pain for the rest of the day.

“Yeah, we should drive up separately,” you say. “We can just meet there.”

“Now, hang on,” Morgan says. “Is this an open invitation for anyone? Because I’ve done corn mazes before and I don’t want to pass up the opportunity to beat Reid at something.”

“Oh, I’ll take up that bet,” Emily says. “Twenty bucks says Morgan and I get through it faster than Reid.”

Spencer frowns. “Two against one? That’s not fair.”

“Well, obviously, you’re going through it with me,” you point out, lightly swatting his arm with the back of your hand. “You’re on, Emily.”

Rossi, briefcase in one hand, jacket hooked over his shoulder, comes into the fray. “What are we betting on?”

“Whether Derek and Emily or Spence and (Y/N) can solve a corn maze faster,” JJ says. She does a good job of acting exasperated, but you know she’s just as invested as the rest of you. If it wasn’t for her desire to spend time with her son, she’d probably enter herself.

“Oh, I’ll put fifty down on the kid, easy,” Rossi says.

Hotch, descending the stairs into the bullpen, overhears this and sighs. “What have I said about office bets?”

“Technically it’s not an office bet,” Emily points out quickly. “It’s something we’re doing over the weekend on our own time.”

“Yeah, this isn’t pool,” Spencer agrees. “Twenty-five on (Y/N) and I.”

“What’s this over?” Hotch asks.

“Corn maze,” Morgan explains. “I’ll add twenty-five as well on me and Emily.”

You tear a piece of paper out of one of the notebooks on your desk and start writing. “I’m putting in thirty,” you say as you write it down. Spencer may have never been in a corn maze before, but you have, and you’re pretty great at them. “Everyone write down their bets on here.”

“What about you, Aaron?” Rossi asks as the paper makes it way through the group.

Hotch shakes his head. “I’m not getting into this.”

“You should still come,” JJ says, scribbling down her wager. “There’s a pumpkin patch you can take Jack to.”

“I did promise him we’d carve a pumpkin this weekend,” he muses.

Penelope toddles in on her high heels with her bag over her shoulder. “What’s going on?” She frowns. “Am I being left out of something?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby girl,” Derek says, slinging his arm around her shoulders. “We’re having a family outing to some farm tomorrow—”

“Liberty Mills farm,” Spencer interjects.

Morgan rolls his eyes. “We’re going to Liberty Mills farm tomorrow. You in?”

Penelope’s face breaks into her bright, radiant smile, warming up the room just like she always does. “Of course! JJ, please tell me my beautiful little godson is coming, too.”

“You can even help him pick out a pumpkin,” JJ replies and Penelope squeals.

“This is going to be so much fun! I can’t wait!”

---

A breeze ripples the cornstalks as you navigate the maze with your boyfriend. You’re on the fourth trail, the mystery maze portion. Derek had insisted on that after learning that Spencer saw a picture of the main maze over your shoulder while you were looking up the directions online. You’d agreed that it was only fair to do the mystery section; his eidetic memory would make it too easy to get through the main portion now.

You shiver at the cold and press yourself against Spencer’s side. It’s around four PM, but the temperature has already started to drop, and it’s especially chilly away from all the people and attractions, isolated in the maze.

Spencer lets go of your hand and you open your mouth to protest, but he speaks before you can. “Hang on, I have something for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise as he lifts the flap of his satchel and pulls out a blanket that really shouldn’t have been able to fit in there. He drapes it around your shoulders and punctuates the action with a kiss on your forehead.

“Have you been carrying this around all day?” you ask incredulously. It’s new; you haven’t seen it before. The fabric is incredibly soft and the design is made up of your favorite colors.

He nods. “You get cold faster than I do, and you get cranky when you’re cold.”

“Yeah, how does that work?” you muse, pulling the blanket around you tighter. “You’re so thin. I feel like you should get cold at least as fast as me.”

“Well, if we look at the laws of thermodynamics,” he begins and you tuck yourself into his side with a small smile. He rambles for a while and you listen patiently, nodding and giving him “uh-huh”’s every so often to affirm your interest (though honestly, a good portion of it goes over your head—most of your studies in college were focused on psychology and sociology).

“I see,” you murmur when he finishes, and it’s not a lie—you think you understand the basics. You briefly stop him from walking to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for the blanket. I love you.”

It’s hardly the first time you’ve said it, but he still blushes. “Love you, too.”

“Now,” you say, taking his hand back into your grip. “Let’s win this bet.”

Sixty minutes later, a smile tugs at your lips. Spencer’s corrected you on a few turns, being able to say for certain if you’ve taken a path before, and now you’re close to the end of the maze. You can feel it. You tug on his hand, picking up your pace. “Come on. We’re close.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” You let go of his hand and break into a jog, recalling the hot apple cider stand you saw earlier in the day. You can’t wait to wrap your hands around a cup of it.

“(Y/N)—” he starts, and you look back just in time to see him trip over a root and almost fall face first into the dirt, just barely catching himself on his hands.

You try not the laugh, but a small giggle slips out. “Sorry,” you say, fighting a smile.

He just rolls his eyes as he pushes himself up. “Can you slow down?” he asks. “The cold is making my knee hurt.”

Your expression immediately drops. “Yeah, of course.”

Five minutes later, you’re exiting the maze. Rossi’s waiting at the end and cheers when he sees the two of you. “Ah, yes! I knew it!”

“We’re first?” Spencer asks.

“Of course we are.” You remove one arm from your blanket cocoon and place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him towards you for a kiss. He hums happily against your lips.

He hugs you from behind as you wait for Derek and Emily, sliding his hands under the blanket and into your sweater’s pockets. They’re ten minutes behind you.

“Ah, come on, man,” Derek laments when he sees you.

“Dammit,” Emily sighs. “You two better be buying dinner tonight.”

“Oh, we’d love to,” you tease.

“How far ahead of us were you?” Morgan asks.

“Twenty minutes,” Spencer replies, and you don’t have to turn around to know the smirk he’s sporting.

You elbow him lightly. “Ten,” you correct.

The five of you meet back up with the others near the entrance of the farm. Penelope had held onto the small pumpkin you’d picked out earlier in the day and hands it to you now. You have paint back home that you’re planning to use to decorate it. Spencer had no desire to get one to carve; he can’t stand touching the pumpkin guts.

“So who won?” she asks.

“Well, going by Spence’s expression, I’m guessing he and (Y/N) did,” JJ says.

Henry lets go of his mother’s hand and approaches Spencer, lifting his arms in a request to be picked up. “We sure did,” Spencer says as he obliges. “Isn’t that right, Henry?”

You grin. “Dinner’s on us.”

---

The team’s seated at your usual table at one of the restaurants you all like to frequent. There’s smiles and laughter all around. Jack is telling his dad, Beth and Morgan about the design he wants to carve into the rather large pumpkin he picked out. Penelope, JJ, and Emily are chattering about Emily’s date tomorrow. (You’ve seen pictures of the woman and she’s gorgeous; Emily also seems completely enamored with her.) Rossi is following up with Will on a recipe he gave him to try. Henry has vacated his seat next to Spencer to sit on his lap instead, and both of you are helping him color in the picture on his placemat.

When JJ takes Henry to wash his hands, you take the opportunity to put your hand on Spencer’s knee. “How’s it feeling?” you ask.

“Better, now that it’s warm.” He pauses, then says, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Coming with me today. I had a lot of fun. I...” He fiddles with the corner of the placemat. “I never really got to do stuff like this when I was a kid. You know, because...”

You nod; you know what his upbringing was like. “Well, I’m happy to have been a part of it.”

Spencer leans into you, tucking one of his legs behind yours. You squeeze his knee lightly and he lets out a sigh of contentment. He stays like that until Henry returns. The food arrives shortly afterward. Before you take your first bite, you run your eyes across everyone at the table.

It’s a strange, mismatched family you and Spencer have, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

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

tell me what you thought here!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #fluff #my fic #don't mind me just reposting bc tumblr blocked this from the tags for whatever reason

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Pumpkin Duck

Author: @mega-aulover

Prompt: How about Katniss taking Peeta to the forest during the fall for the first time to see all of the fall colors. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: K

Author’s note: Special thanks to @jroseley for beta-ing. :)

____________

“You smell like a snickerdoodle Sweetheart?”

Katniss slammed the door of Haymitch’s man cave and sat down. She narrowed her eyes at her mentor. She was beginning to hate anything fall flavored related, including cinnamon. Most of all she grew a distinct dislike of pumpkin.

“Peeta’s still baking up a storm.”

“He claims he’s experimenting with recipes for the bakery,” she huffed. “But the thing is he’s making stuff that isn’t sold at the bakery.”

Haymitch handed her a beer. “So what has the boy done that has you spittin nails?”

She twisted the bottle cap angrily. “This morning he said he was going to create a pumpkin flavored macaroni and cheese. Macaroni and cheese shouldn’t be pumpkin flavored. For that matter pumpkins don’t have a flavor like tomatoes, apples, or broccoli.”

Haymitch lifted an eyebrow. “Broccoli?”

“Yes broccoli,” Katniss said, putting the bottle down.

“Sweetheart, have you seen my house, I have orange coming out of my ears. I found Effie changing out my tidy-whities for oranges ones with squirrels sitting on piles of leaves. It’s not even fall yet.”

Katniss hung her head. “Why don’t we make a run for it?”

Haymitch chuckled, “Effie’s got a tracker in me she’ll find me.”

Katniss laughed. Effie always seemed to show up wherever Haymitch hid.

“Fall’s like a week away Haymitch but he’s been driving me bananas.” Peeta yesterday dragged out his wok to make fried rice with pumpkins. She shuttered. “How do you do it?”

“We find them appealing, they put up with our crap.”

Katniss grimaced.

“No you don’t have the right to make that face. You and I both know Effie puts up with my geese and the boy puts up with muddy footprints all over the floor. Besides we are nuts about them.”

Her shoulders drooped, she did love Peeta. “He is cute when he wakes up in the morning with his wavy hair all askew.”

Haymitch grinned, he handed her half of his ham and cheese sandwich.

Having the normal food calmed her down. “He says he wants to be ready for fall.”

“Why don’t you do something for him?”

“Like what?”

“You like the woods right?”

Katniss frowned she wasn’t following. “Yeah.”

“His favorite time of year is the fall, and next week the fall starts.”

“Oh take him to the woods so he can see the real deal.” She had taken Peeta to the lake during the summer but never when the leaves were changing. Finishing up the sandwich she bounded out of the door. “Thanks Haymitch.”

“Don’t mention it,” Haymitch muttered.

Katniss walked by Effie who today was dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit with a hat that looked like a pile of leaves. She shook her head but managed a smile at her former escort. “Hi Effie.”

“Oh, hello Katniss, is Haymitch still cooped up in there?”

“Sure is, the game’s nearly finished,” Katniss paused and then turned to her former Escort. Haymitch needed a break and she needed help. “Effie how quickly do you think I can get camping equipment?”

“Why?” Effie turned around. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well Haymitch gave me a great idea. I know how much Peeta loves the fall, so I thought I would take him camping up in the mountains. The leaves change colors in the mountains quicker because it’s cooler.”

“OH,” Effie gasped. Her lashes with miniature fall leaves batted quickly as her eyes became brighter. “What a darling idea? What exactly do you need?”

“Well,” Katniss said, linking her arm with Effie. “First off I need camping clothing, and I need a large enough tent.”

“Ooohhh, I know some people who can help.”

Katniss grinned. “I also need this to be a surprise. You know I cannot lie to Peeta.” Now if she could only survive the couple of days of pumpkin wreaking havoc in her life.

“That is the utter truth.” Effie said.

The next day when Peeta returned to the bakery Katniss and Effie got to work. Katniss had to make sure the path was still there. Around here the leaves were still green, but high up in the mountains the air was colder and the leaves changed color quicker.

Her father had taken her there once. She was a small child but she’d been past the trail a dozen times when she hunted in the woods with Gale but she’d never explored. After the war when Peeta came back she took a walk. She discovered the trail and everyday she cleared it little by little until she made it to the peak of the mountain. It took three days and Peeta was scared out of his mind when she came back. He kissed her hard, yelled at her, and kissed her again. Her toes curled in her old boots at the memory of that passionate kiss.

“Look Effie,” Katniss shouted excited to find the trail. When she found the trail she was overjoyed.

“Oh dear this will not do,” Effie tsked. “We need someone to make a clear path, Peeta will not be able to get through there easily. I know who to call.”

Katniss wasn’t sure about the gleam in Effie’s eyes. But true enough within a day Effie had Thom and a crew working around the clock to clear a path up to the mountain that would be even enough for Peeta to make his way up the mountain.

A few days later she was in the mudroom looking bewildered at all of the packages Effe had brought over. There were boxes dozens of them of every size and shape. Katniss wasn’t sure how she was going to keep this from Peeta. He knew she was frugal and she just didn’t buy anything.

“Katniss,” Peeta said, popping his head in her mudroom.

Katniss looked up, surprised that Peeta had come home early.

“What is all of this?”

“Nothing,” Katniss said, hiding the orange plaid shirt behind her back. Horrified she watched Peeta pick up a box.

“Looks like Effie is trying to hide purchases from Haymitch.”

Katniss glanced down at the nearest box and indeed Effie’s name was on the shipping label of the boxes. “Erm…yeah,” Katniss nodded, she fought to keep her embarrassment from showing up on her face. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Well I wanted to make some ravioli, for dinner.”

Katniss eyes lit up at the thought of the fluffy pasta filled with oozing cheese or ground meat.”

“Yeah I got an idea for pumpkin flavored raviolis. I got the ingredients at the grocers,” he began walking away. “..they had these beautiful pumpkins.”

Her smile turned into a frown. “Great more freaking pumpkins,” she muttered under her breath.

The day before the great adventure Katniss sat outside with Haymitch.

“Effie is…” Katniss said to Haymitch a few days before.

“Determined?”

“Like a general in the rebellion,” Katniss said leaning up against the porch watching Peeta and Effie talk about the upcoming fall festival.

“You all set for tomorrow?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said about Effie?”

“I’m not talking about the trek, I’m talking about the…”

Katniss looked away…she looked at her beer. She drank it savoring the brew. “Yeah.”

“You, ready for this?” Haymitch leveled a look at her.

Katniss glanced toward Peeta, “I love him, even with his pumpkin obsession.”

“Good, that’s all that matters.”

The next morning all went awry. A huge storm pulled into the mountains and a deluge flooded the roads. They were stuck inside. Katniss sat by the window looking at the rain fall.

“Katniss what's wrong?”

Katniss turned around biting her bottom lip. She wanted to cry but instead she squared her shoulders. “Today is the first day of fall but.”

“Yeah I know it’s the autumnal equinox.”

Jutting her chin out with determination she said, “We’re making fall.”

“What?”

Determined, she went to his art supplies and said, “We’re making the fall indoors.”

“Kat?”

“Get your paint box Peeta,” Katniss said, marching upstairs to an empty room. They were going to have to do this backwards.

Peeta had his paints. “Okay are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“We’re going to make a mural Peeta. Big beautiful trees, one for each season.”

“Okay,” he looked around.

The words tumbled out of her lips, “I had this entire weekend planned we were going to go up into the mountains. We were going to eat fresh game and wonder at the colors of the fall. Then I was going to give you this.” Katniss took a small envelope and pressed it into his hands.

Peeta frowned. He opened the envelope and took out the card. She watched his lips move as he read what she’d written. Katniss delighted in watching the way Peeta’s eyes lit up bigger than the bonfire she planned cooking their meals on. “You wanna try?”

Katniss nodded.

“Real or not real, you wanna try to have a baby with me?”

“Real,” she whispered.

“Real,” Peeta uttered. Tears fell down his face.

“Yes,” Katniss pointed toward the room. “Wouldn’t this room make an amazing nursery?”

Peeta grasped her by the middle and swung her around. Katniss laughed. He put her down and then said, as he gathered his painting gear. “I’m going to make us something special, butternut squash soup, oh and some pumpkin bread…to go with pumpkin spiced duck.”

Katniss scowled; she loved Peeta but she still hated the pumpkin.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #by mega-aulover #submission

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steppedoffaflight · 3 years

Text

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 15

Catch up on Chapter 14 here

You’re kicking yourself for taking these last months for granted, for thinking that that was what it meant to miss a busy Van. Pining and pouting over a Van that you basically saw once a week? That wasn’t so exhausted from back-to-back shows that he made time to call, or at least respond to your texts? Who spent enough time in one place that you could actually go visit him on tour?

You’re missing your best friend like crazy.

Word count: ~3.3k

A/N: I can’t believe there’s only two chapters left after this! Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who’s taken the time to read this, and endless thank you’s to everyone who has reached out with feedback ❤️

Chapter Fifteen September 2019

Fall in California doesn’t look the same as it does in Michigan, but you wish it did. Although you’re glad winters here only involve mild weeks in the fifties and sixties, you do miss the atmosphere of gray, rainy September days, leaves shriveling up and falling off of the trees, and changing out your wardrobe into something cozier. Sure, the pumpkin spice trend is still active, but pumpkin spice lattes don’t taste the same with eighty degree temperatures and the shining sun.

Maybe you’re homesick because you’re desperate for your surroundings to match your insides.

Van wasn’t kidding about the band’s workload this month. You’re kicking yourself for taking these last months for granted, for thinking that that was what it meant to miss a busy Van. Pining and pouting over a Van that you basically saw once a week? That wasn’t so exhausted from back-to-back shows that he made time to call, or at least respond to your texts? Who spent enough time in one place that you could actually go visit him on tour?

You had been so naive. So, so, fucking naive. And September was absolute torture to prove it. And it would feel much, much better to slog through this month on rainy sidewalks crusted with damp leaves, a crisp breeze trying to sneak through the seams of your coat.

But instead the world just spins on, leaving you behind. September is a new beginning for many people, who gladly chatter about it everywhere they go. UCLA students are starting to return to the area, bouncing around in their backpacks with iced coffees, and at work your co-workers are returning from their eventful summers refreshed and ready to end the year with a bang. There are back-to-school sales on everything, from spin classes to puppies in a petstore window, and the happier everyone is about the new season the more alone you feel.

Because that’s a great way to sum up how you feel, really: alone. It was the fucking worst. You’d never been someone who had a problem being alone! You’d purposely decided to live alone; you had practically skipped for joy down the sidewalks when you’d broken up with your last boyfriend. You had a nice friend group with the other girls at work, and of course you had Mary, so what else could an independent woman like you need? Certainly not a boyfriend or a girlfriend to make you feel fulfilled. Things wouldn’t even be different if Van was your boyfriend, you try to convince yourself. He’d still be busy. You’d still be rooted in L.A.. You’d still be just as depressed as you are right now.

You don’t believe that one bit.

Got that reservation, Van texts you one night after a rare phone call. You’d asked him to try and get Mary and Theo a table for their anniversary, and apparently he’d pulled through. You beam to yourself as he sends another text with the reservation information, and then decide to give Mary a call.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Is Mary’s greeting. “Has Van kidnapped you?”

You don’t have the heart to tell her it’s the opposite, actually. You’re so trapped in your lonely self-pity you don’t really have the energy or desire to socialize with others right now. In your heart right now, it’s Van or bust.

“Maybe,” You joke, although you feel like you don’t sound very convincing. “Speaking of Van, he might happen to have a reservation next week that he can’t make…” You grin as your voice trails off, “And maybe he accidentally made the reservation under your name?”

Mary audibly gasps down the line. “He got us a table?” She squeals, but you can hear she’s trying to hold back her excitement until she knows for sure.

“I might have called in a favor from him,” You laugh as you listen to Mary’s excitement at your confirmation.

“He is an absolute angel,” She gushes. “You need to marry him, like, now.”

You’re sure that this time your laugh definitely sounds hollow. You’ve never admitted your love for Van, even though Mary questions you about it regularly and never seems convinced with your denials. While you usually tell her everything, your feelings for Van have always felt like a giant bruise, something best not exposed. You don’t think you could stand the teasing, or Mary’s typical meddling. And right now, considering your heart is one oozing wound, you’re thankful for your own secret-keeping.

“I just wanted to let you know,” You start to wind down the conversation. Your phone has pinged with another text from Van, and you don’t want to waste this opportunity to catch up with him. “I’ll screenshot the reservation stuff and text you.”

“Tell Van I said thank you! We said thank you. Like, seriously. He’s amazing.”

You two say goodbye and you relay the message to Van over text, before responding to the message he’d just sent. Sam Fender’s album was out tomorrow, and there would be a huge bash at his Hollywood house the following weekend, which the band wouldn’t be in the States to attend. Van was clearly bummed about the whole thing, and you were too. You wonder if Sam and his friends remembered you from the party, or if you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You wish there was a way for you to reach out to him and congratulate him.

Get your cheque yet? Van asks when the conversation about Sam has run its course.

Right. The insurance check. Yup, you respond, frowning to yourself in dismay. A whole $5,000. Yippee.

You couldn’t believe that’s all you’d received from the insurance debacle. You’d purchased the car for $12,000 from a dealer, worked your ass to pay it off over the years, and now the insurance company had awarded you less than half of the cost of the car to somehow give you the means to buy a new one. And it’d be almost impossible to find something in good shape for that price that was also an automatic, because you grew up in Michigan, where people were not obsessed with driving stick shifts.

Least you’ve got the rover.

Right. The Range Rover. The one scrap of Van you could cling to during this awful time.

The next time you have to pass that stupid petshop with their stupidly cute puppies in the window on your walk back to the office after lunch, you decide to send a pic to Van: Yes or no to me getting a puppy.

Which one?

Holy fuck, he responded in less than twelve hours. It’s your lucky day.

I’m thinking that little fuzzy gray one.

I’d be supremely jealous. He’s cute and I love dogs.

Van is a terrible influence. You’re ashamed to admit you stall in front of the window for longer than necessary, looking at the little gray puppy with the pointed ears bounce around in the playpen before forcing yourself to move along. A puppy would probably be good for you, honestly, but that’s not a decision you should make on impulse.

Miss you, says another text from Van. Then another: Might be in town on Tuesday? Fingers crossed the flights work out.

Unfortunately, they do not.

The flights do, however, work out for Thursday. That’s a fact you only discover after coming home from work and heading into your bedroom to change, only to trip over two rolling suitcases and realize there’s a Van-sized lump sleeping in your bed.

“What’re you doing?” Van mumbles, peeking his head out from under the blankets as you swear up a storm.

“What are you doing?” You shout, your toes throbbing. You’d accidentally kicked one of his rolling suitcases across the bedroom hardwood, and your toes were aching from the impact. On its way across the bedroom that suitcase had bumped the other, causing it to fall like a domino. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

A slow grin spreads over Van’s face. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“By making my room an obstacle course?” You huff, lifting the fallen suitcase upright and rolling both of them out of the way into a corner.

Van’s sleepy state inhibits him from arguing, and he tucks his head back under the comforter.

“God, you scared the shit out of me,” You continue, your adrenaline still pumping from the fright and the pain. “I regret making you a key. I want it back.”

“Shut up,” Comes Van’s muffled voice.

“You shut up,” You bite back, but as the throbbing in your toes die down your irritation is replaced with the realization that this is reality, that Van is actually in your fucking bed at this moment. “I missed you,” You announce suddenly, your voice a lot softer.

Van peeks his head out again. His hair is a ruffled, oily mess as he beams at you. “I missed you more.”

“Bet you didn’t. Bet you forgot about me while you were doing cool band stuff.”

“Oh, did I? Wonder who I was texting Sam about, then.”

At this your jaw drops. “You did what?”

“I told him I was sorry I was leaving town tomorrow, and you said congratulations. And he asked how you were. Bond and him wanna do a celebratory pub night down in Newcastle.”

“No fair!” You pout, stomping your foot like a child. “You’re gonna celebrate without me?”

“Get your passport!” Van cries, throwing one of his arms up in exasperation before flopping back down on the bed. “Come with us!”

Getting your passport is a pain you’re reluctant to go through. You sigh. Maybe you’d try during the holidays back in Michigan, where the lines at the post office weren’t practically out the door everyday. Even if things with Van are over by then, Mary’s been trying to talk you into an overseas vacation for a while.

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” You decide to narrow in on that fact, pushing passport thoughts aside.

“Tomorrow night,” Van confirms. “Drop me off after work?”

“Of course.” If you only had him for these twenty-four hours, you were gonna milk every second you had.

Van is completely wiped from touring, and spends his entire time at your place in the same sweats. He gets out of bed the next morning to shower and have a cup of coffee with you, but other than that he’s glued to the mattress, getting some much-needed rest.

But even when he’s tired, Van is fun to be around. When you’re exhausted from work it means that your job has sapped every last bit of joy from you, leaving you without any desire to be creative, go out with friends, or try to be in a good mood. With Van, it’s like he would keep going if his body allowed him. He talks about tour fondly, still expresses excitement about starting on the new album, and still manages to pluck at your guitar from his nesting spot in bed. He’s the same Van; the only difference is the constant yawning and the way the lines around his eyes are more defined. Oh, and the lack of energy for any fooling around.

That last part doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re on your way home from the airport. You were so content just to have him around that you totally forgot how much you’d been using your vibrator lately.

But even with how content you were for that blissful twenty-four hours, as soon as you’ve stepped in the door to your empty house the aching in your heart returns. In your time apart all the little details about Van had gone fuzzy in your mind; his scent on your pillow, how it takes a cup of coffee in the morning for his voice to stop cracking. But remembering them makes everything sting with a vengeance, and you’re left feeling shittier than you have all month.

There’s been a nagging feeling creeping around the edges of your brain like a fog, and as much as you’ve been trying to deny it, it’s hard tonight. It’s just that everything with Van has started to hurt, and you’re not sure it’s ever going to go away. His schedule over the summer was flexible, but even after this intense bout of touring he’d be busy with recording. And then the band would be vigorously promoting and touring that album, and so on, forever, because Van would never stop making music, you were sure of that.

The tears well up in your eyes even thinking about not having him around. Despite your crushing adoration for him, he really is your best friend, and the idea of losing his friendship makes your heart clench in agony, the tears spilling over. But it’s not really a fair friendship when only one of you is crying about it, is it? Van doesn’t have to hurt like this, because his heart isn’t invested in you like yours is in him.

You allow yourself an indulgent self-pity cry as you make your bed, rumpled from Van’s napping, and climb in. You figure if you’re going to have a pity party for yourself you might as well do it right, and switch your pillow out for his so you can smell the smoke he leaves everywhere he goes. You know that as happy as you are when he’s around, there’s no way you can keep crying over someone when leaving is as much of their job as sending emails is to yours.

That’s why when Van pops in for another impromptu visit the following Tuesday, you’re not as happy to see him as you usually would be. It’s the same way that the idea of next morning’s hangover can ruin a night out, except with Van there’s no magical way to handicap your brain from thinking about the future.

The sex comes close, though. As soon as you two get to your place after picking him up he tosses his backpack aside before cornering you against the front door.

“I fucking missed you,” He practically growls in your ear, and holy fuck it’s been so long. You two rush for the bedroom, peeling off clothes as you go. Van is too impatient to worry about unbuttoning his shirt and simply peels it over his head, while you unclasp your own bra to avoid the delay. Before you know it you’re on your back, the blankets falling away from Van’s shoulders as he thrusts into you with all he’s got, your headboard banging against the wall so loudly you almost worry about damaging it. When you come it’s intensely satisfying, and you pull Van’s hair ridiculously hard to prove it. In retaliation he bites down on your shoulder as he comes, the same as he did the first time you ever slept with him.

The whole world feels right for that magical half hour, and then as you both lay on your backs trying to process what’s happened it all starts to shift again.

“When are you leaving, again?” You ask the ceiling, your voice stiff.

“Thursday morning,” He croaks. “Gotta get to Salt Lake City.”

You start to roll yourself up, heading for the bathroom. “Right.”

You feel Van’s body tense under the sheets next to you. “You alright?”

“Yup,” You tell him, emerging from the bed. You’re not convincing in the slightest, and Van can clearly tell. You don’t give him time to question you before leaving the bedroom.

“What’d I do?” You startle when you hear Van’s footsteps following behind you to the bathroom.

“Nothing.” You almost laugh at how ridiculous you sound.

Van hasn’t even bothered to throw boxers on, leaning in the bathroom doorway with his softening dick on display. He sighs. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You’re actually craving the fuck out of a cigarette, but you’d rather just go to bed and have this night be over with. Maybe tomorrow you’d be more able to enjoy Van’s presence, rather than pouting over how it’s rapidly coming to an end as soon as it began. “I’m fine,” You tell him. Your voice sounds less sharp and more resigned. It wasn’t his fault, after all.

Van shakes his head. He uses the toilet when you’re done, tosses on the sweatpants he had rolled in his backpack, and heads out onto the porch alone.

In his absence you scold yourself for acting like this. What the fuck were you doing? Ruining the two nights you had him, because of something that wasn’t anybody’s fault? You remake the bed, mentally giving yourself a stern talking to.

“You wanna talk about what’s wrong now?” Van’s voice makes you jump out of your skin.

“Nothing’s wrong,” You insist again, but your voice betrays you.

“Something is,” Van argues. “I’ve been watching you fluff that pillow for ages.”

At his words you realize your hands are still gripping the corner of your pillowcase, and you unclench your fists.

Van steps into the room, and to your mortification you feel your eyes heat up with warm tears.

“It’s been a long day,” You lie. It’s been a long fucking summer. “And I’m PMSing.”

Van frowns in sympathy, starting to climb back into bed. “Need a cuddle?”

A cuddle sounds like the equivalent of doing an entire round of shots by yourself when you’re already dreading the hangover.

“Yeah,” You sniff. “I do.”

On Thursday morning Van gets you up even earlier than your alarm clock, one of his hands nudging your thighs apart. You expect him to get on top of you once you’re more fully awake, yawning and wiggling around to get more comfortable, but instead you feel his calloused fingertip press against your entrance.

“Oh,” You sigh in surprise as he slips into you, searching out your good spots by touch alone. When he slips a second finger in, angling himself right, you clench down on instinct. “Yeah,” You breathe, blinking up at him sleepily. He’s watching your face intently, and if you were even slightly more awake you’d be horrifically self conscious. “You got it right.”

You can’t remember the last time you were fingered as the entree of the sex, rather than the appetizer. It’s appallingly intimate to have Van’s face so close to yours, breathing in any noises you make and watching every slight expression change in the darkness of your room. You’re also appalled at how you’ve been completely robbed of his talents; he can sense exactly where you’re throbbing for him, your clit twitching against the pad of his thumb when he applies pressure right where your body has been screaming for it. It barely takes any time with his thumb working in tiny circles and his fingers pressing into you hard before you’re gasping for air, drowning under the waves of your orgasm that feels like it’s radiating from both areas, whimpering Van’s name helplessly.

As soon as you’re flinching from his touch he pulls his hand away, his fingers slipping into his mouth so he can clean them off.

“Holy shit.” Your lungs are still desperate for air, but you haul him in for a sloppy kiss, paying no attention to the taste of yourself on his tongue. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Van lets out a deep, throaty laugh at that, but you’re already pushing him backwards so that he’s laying flat. You’re way too sensitive for sex, but you jerk him off and let him come on the soft skin on the inside of your thighs, as a treat.

After you drop him off at the airport, both of you looking slightly disheveled due to having to rush to get ready, you sigh to yourself in the empty car. You hated how weak you were when it came to him. One minute you’re convincing yourself you need to stop hanging around him, and the next you’re telling yourself there is absolutely no way you can give up the best sex you’ve ever had.

It was quite the conundrum.

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen fanfiction #van mccann #catb #catb fic #vanfic #van mccann fic #van mccann fanfiction #Catfish and the Bottlemen

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bartonchronicle · 3 years

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Too cool for school? I sincerely hope not!

It’s that time of the year again! School is back in session tomorrow Monday, August 30th, 2021!

Summer is officially over (I know, I know, let it out, it’s okay) and it’s time to put those margaritas and sunshades down and pick those heavy book bags back up that will absolutely give you back pain in a few years. Get ready to see those friends you’ve been ignoring all summer again, and to introduce yourself to your classmates as if you haven’t known them for 100 years already. If you’re a parent, I hope you’re ready to drop your kid off at school and watch them wail at you from the gate to the place that will be their second home for the rest of the year. And teachers? Good luck.

But hey! It’s not all bad. We polled a few of Barton Point’s residents and here’s what they had to say about the benefits of going back to school:

College parties. Hey, don’t look at us! We all know what happens at college parties. We’ve been there, done that. Just have fun and be safe.

Fall. And don’t we all love fall? Word’s getting around that BEAN, our cozy, local coffee shop, is already starting to sell their signature fall drinks. Apple pie tea? Maple cinnamon latte? Sign me up! THE SWEET SPOT, our gorgeous little bakery, is starting to put out some of their fall staples like the pumpkin spice muffins we all know and love, and their carrot cupcakes that I survived on last year. Even THE RAILWAY TAVERN and DIRTY MARTINI are starting to put out some special fall cocktails like an Apple Bourbon Fizz and a Pumpkin Pie Martini that will knock you down. (You can also get these in their non-alcoholic version and I promise you, they will hit the spot).

Reinvention. Every day is a new chance to reinvent yourself, and what better time to start than the first day back to school, right? Get a new look at VIVIENNE’S BEAUTY BAR or at JONNIE’S, get your first week outfits ready at the mall, maybe the BOARDWALK BOUTIQUE, or if you’re looking for some vintage, thrifted pieces you can make your own, TRIED AND TRUSTED is the way to go! Be like miss Quinn Fabray at the beginning of season 3 and show up to school completely unrecognizable.

Homework. Hey, some people enjoy it.

Routine. “What day is it? What month are we in? Who are we?” Students and teachers alike all throughout Barton Point say “no more!” Routine is good. Routine means structure. We’re all waking up at 7 am and driving to class in our PJ’s again. Isn’t that great?

However, remember! While going back to school can be an exciting time for some, it can be really difficult for others. Make sure you take care of yourself and your mental health, and take breaks when you need to! The best piece of advice I ever received from a teacher was that the work will always be there when you get back. Go to the movies! Go on that date! Go out with your friends! Take a few hours to yourself, or take as much time as you need to for yourself, and I can assure you, you’ll have time to study, or work, or grade papers later.

The Barton Chronicle has paired up with BEAN, THE SWEET SPOT, THE RAILWAY TAVERN, DIRTY MARTINI, VIVIENNE’S BEAUTY BAR, JONNIE’S, BOARDWALK BOUTIQUE, and TRIED & TRUSTED to give you a 15% discount in your next purchase. All you have to do is show them this article.* *Promotion valid from August 29th, 2021 through September 30th, 2021 to be used only once at every shop mentioned.

Tonight, there’ll be a showing of THE BREAKFAST CLUB, followed by FERRIS BUELLER’S DAY OFF at the Backyard Theater, so head down! Free popcorn for all!

#bpoint:news

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cake-writes · 5 years

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Simplicity

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Breeding Kink, Fluff, 18+

Word Count: 1.7k

I wanted to write some fluff for our favourite Captain’s birthday, as per @sherrybaby14′s challenge! So I did. ✌️

It started with a simple comment.

“Our kids would never act up like that.”

You and Steve had gone shopping like a normal, domestic couple for once. You needed some new t-shirts because your favourites had been ripped up during the latest mission, and he thought it might be nice to make a date of it. Steve wasn’t too fond of large crowds, but it was lunchtime on a Tuesday and the shopping mall was pretty quiet.

Not quiet enough, unfortunately.

After you checked out a few stores, you stopped at a little café for a coffee break. He ordered a plain black iced coffee because it was a hot day, and you selected some weird seasonal concoction. Something about pumpkins and spice. Didn’t make much sense to him.

It was a relaxing break when you first sat down, but then a lady with three unruly children in tow came in. The kids kept popping their heads under (and over) seats, bothering patrons, and one of them was playing a too-loud game on dear mommy’s cell phone.

You weren’t normally one to judge. She was by herself, so maybe she was a single mother and that gig was certainly tough as hell. Maybe something bad had happened to her today. Maybe she was sick, or worrying over something – there were plenty of reasons for it, but the snide comment escaped you nonetheless because the kids were noisy and you were trying to enjoy a date with your boyfriend.

Steve didn’t respond, and for a minute you thought he’d been offended by what you said. His thoughts were usually pretty similar to yours: did his best not to judge, did what was right, had good morals – so maybe it upset him that you weren’t really as understanding as he’d come to believe.

When you glanced over at him, though, the breath hitched in your throat. He wasn’t upset at all.

No, instead Steve slowly took your hand in his and leaned in to whisper into your ear, “Our kids?”

His breath was hot on the shell of your ear and it sent a shiver down your spine. You immediately forgot about the three obnoxious brats wreaking havoc in the café. All you could focus on was the carnal implication in his words.

Your words.

His thumb gently stroked the skin on the underside of your wrist as you responded breathily, “Yeah, Stevie. Our kids.”

The idea of it turned you on like crazy, and it was ridiculous because this was absolutely not a good time to have them. You and Steve were Avengers, for fuck’s sake, and you had a duty to uphold, let alone the fact that you’d been dating for a little more than a year – but it clearly turned him on, too.

You’d barely made it back to his room in the compound before he had you up against his bedroom wall, two fingers deep in your cunt, his lips and tongue assaulting your neck as he muttered some of the filthiest things he’d ever said to you.

“Gotta get you ready, doll,” he breathed, hooking his fingers up into your g-spot in just the way that made you see stars. You knew what he was getting you ready for. Neither of you had actually tried before, but you were on birth control, so it was harmless either way.

“Want you, Stevie,” you whimpered, bucking your hips against his hand. “Need you.”

The desperation in your tone was enough to get him to remove his fingers, and then he quickly replaced them with his cock. Even having two of his fingers still wasn’t enough to completely ease the stretch, but it was a pleasant burn, the way he filled you so, so well. Your hiss of pleasure did nothing to hide the fact that you were absolutely soaked for him.

Once he was fully sheathed inside your slick heat, he kissed you again – messy and wet, all lips and teeth and tongues. He wasn’t making love to you tonight, no, not now. Not when the two of you were so worked up by the goal you were inadvertently working towards.

Steve broke away to press sloppy kisses your throat, and you laced your fingers with his as he held one of your hands up above your head against the wall. You slung your other arm around his neck and held onto him desperately as he thrust up into you, his movements slowly becoming more and more erratic.

He was already so close. You were too.

“Come inside me,” you gasped, and he squeezed your hand in response.

“Gonna fill you up,” Steve groaned against the sweat-slicked skin on your neck. “Gonna make you mine.”

The whine that escaped your throat brought him even closer to the edge. “Give me a baby, Stevie, please—”

“Love you, sweetheart, fuckin’ love you,” he babbled like a prayer, quickly unlacing your fingers to fist the hair at the back of your head and kiss you again. He wasn’t gentle, and you didn’t want him to be; his tongue swept into your mouth with a certain dominance that sent you reeling.

Steve had you so pinned to the wall that you couldn’t get away even if you wanted to – and of course you didn’t want to, but just knowing that he was going to fill you up, knowing that he could hold you there and just make you take every fucking drop of his cum whether you wanted to or not was what finally pushed you over the edge.

You came with a strangled cry just as he buried himself to the hilt, spilling hot inside you. He groaned against your lips as you milked him dry, your walls clenching down on him so hard that you could actually feel each spurt of him inside of you. It made you feel so ridiculously satisfied, like you’d fulfilled whatever primal duty the two of you were meant to do. You loved it.

You felt boneless in his arms as he gently eased you onto the bed, leaving just for a moment to fetch a wet washcloth to help clean you up just like he always did. You barely even noticed until he came back and gathered you in his arms, pulling your back against his chest with the rest of your body in between his spread legs.

When he offered you the washcloth, you looked up at him with a dazed smile and shook your head.

You didn’t want to clean up. You wanted to leave every bit of him inside of you, on the off-chance that something actually worked. It was stupid and impulsive, but in the heat of the moment, you wanted it – and when his cock twitched against your back, you knew that he did too.

“I love you,” you told him, bringing your hand up to the side of his face to pull him down for another kiss. It was gentle and leisurely this time, like the two of you had all the time in the world together to savour it.

When the two of you finally broke away, Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead and then buried his face in your hair. He couldn’t help but rest his hands on your abdomen, right above where he’d emptied himself inside of you.

“I love you too.”

Another simple comment.

“Man, I’m exhausted. This baby’s gonna be a real fighter.”

It slipped out so easily, so casually from your lips that it felt natural – like you’d already told him. You didn’t even realize, though, until you didn’t get a response – then you looked up from the sofa to where your now-fiancé was standing.

Steve was looking at you so, so tenderly, his blue eyes wide and full of love.

Oh.

Recently, your period was a week late, and you took a couple of tests that gave a positive result. Then you asked Dr. Banner run some bloodwork, and it was officially confirmed: you were five weeks pregnant.

You hadn’t figured out how to tell him yet, and it was difficult to even decide on anything because your brain was a hazy mess from the hormones and extra energy expenditure. The last couple of days, you’d been absolutely exhausted – blamed it on the late nights at work, or maybe food poisoning or the flu that’s been going around. You’d only been taking extra vitamins for the last few days, and your diet and sleep weren’t exactly the greatest when you kept having to get up to vomit in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for it, because you were. It was just – sudden. Despite the fact that you and Steve had discovered a mutual breeding kink almost a year ago, the two of you weren’t actively trying for a baby - but you weren’t not, either. You weren’t terribly consistent with your birth control, and both of you loved it most when he finished inside. He didn’t always, but definitely more often than not, and who even knew if his swimmers were actually, well, swimming to begin with?

Tonight was a particularly tiring evening. You were still getting used to it all, and you hadn’t slept a wink the night before. Steve, on the other hand, slept like a log just like he always did. In recent nights you almost started to resent him for it.

You’d just laid down on the sofa with a soft, satisfied groan when you said it – accidentally told him that you were pregnant.

Steve was at your side in an instant, sitting down next to you as you settled into the sofa. His palm came to rest upon your thigh when he asked, hesitantly, “Are you–?”

You offered him a weary smile. “Six weeks tomorrow.”

His hands were soft and warm on the sides of your neck as he pressed kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, and then your mouth – gentle, tender, and full of love. When he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes were almost sparkling with his adoration for you. “We’re gonna have a baby?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought your lips to his again for a slower, sweeter kiss. Then you whispered against his lips, “Yeah, Stevie. We are.”

He kissed you again, and again, and again, and that night he made love to you in a way that shook you both to the core. The love that the two of you shared was incomparable.

(If you like my work, please consider donating to my Patreon or my Ko-Fi!)

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #simplicity

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heythrrdelilah · 4 years

Text

Pie Lady (Dean x Reader, Holiday)

Request: anonymous asked: For the holiday prompts, I'd like "-You’re a local baker that your love interest comes to every day just to see you. You wonder why this random person eats so many sweets so quickly." with Dean please and thank you! Maybe the reader specializes in pies that would fit better 😁

A/N: of course! I honestly was thinking pie with Dean on that one too. Great minds think alike! Also, a reminder to everyone, you can request an already requested prompt with a different lead because it changes for each person. This is a perfect example of that, thank you. 💕 Dean can really put down some pie. Meanwhile, I make brownies for everyone but get sugar sickness just looking at them haha. I hope you enjoy! How are you liking the aesthetic gifs? Personally i’m obsessed with aesthetics and food aesthetics at that (i have a whole insta based on short stories based on aesthetics and a weheartit haha )

Word Count: 1,418

Warnings/tags: Fluff, hallmark level cheese (a reoccurring theme this season), flirtatiousness, annoyed Sam, possibly a sugar overdose

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam is mentioned.

The smell of pumpkin-filled your nostrils the minute you walked into your bakery. You and your best friend had owned this tiny shop downtown for almost a year now and you were thriving. The Millenials loved your take on different sweets. Your best friend, Miley, had no specialty, however you specialized in pies. Sure, you could bake other treats just as well, but you enjoyed experimenting with pie most.

You placed your bag on the desk in the back, walked into the kitchen and threw on your apron. Miley, had her hair tossed in a blonde bun, was mixing a sauce intensely on the stove with her whisk. Her sleeves were pulled halfway up her arm. It was no shock to you that she had arrived earlier than you, as this happens more often than not. You enjoyed getting at least seven hours of sleep every night, while Miley barely slept. “Finally making those pumpkin pie rolls, huh?” You asked, walking up behind her. It was six in the morning, which meant that the people on their way to their jobs were soon to come in for their morning baked goods. This meant you had 50 salted-caramel muffins to make. They have been a big hit from the beginning of the season. “Listen, I know there are already pumpkin spice, cinnamon rolls, but there is a difference between pumpkin spice and pumpkin pie rolls. Believe me. I’m making 15 before we open to test them out. Only 13 people will get them and see how they do. The last two are for us,” She beamed, putting the whisk down. She pulled the oven open and precisely placed the glaze on top of the delicious smelling pumpkin rolls before closing the doors again. You began making your muffins and moved on to a batch of pecan-caramel pies.

All of the projects were finished just in time for opening. Just as expected, when you unlocked the glass door, there were a good amount of people waiting in the cold air. You held the door open for them, kindly welcoming them in, before running to the counter to take orders.You took orders quickly, feeling a bit relieved on the last person currently in line. Usually, the store went through rushes but was slow the majority of the day. The man stood before you, a green jacket, grey shirt underneath, with blue jeans and workers boots. The t-shirt was tight against his pecks, leaving you a little flustered that you even noticed. His facial features were chiseled and made your heart skip a beat for a slight second. He smiled warmly at you before looking around the glass displays. “Pecan Carmel? I’ll have one,” He smiled up at you, pulling out a wallet. “One slice, anything else?” He scrunched his thin brows at you, tilting his head in confusion before shaking it, “No… one pie. Maybe a coffee too. That's all.” He smiled, wiping his card after you rang the order up. You moved behind the display and pulled out the pie, placing it in a catering tin. You poured the coffee and motioned to the tables, “Here is your pie, darlin’, along with your coffee. The forks and coffee necessities are on the tables as well.” Where had the southern accent come from? Sure, you were around southern accents all day, but it wasn’t like you. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed. “Actually, One more thing, if you don’t mind. What’s your name?” His eyes twinkled in the sunlight coming from the side of the building. “(Y/N). Yours?” He introduced himself as Dean before sitting at the table with his food.

That would be the last time you saw Dean for that day.

The next morning was like any other, you came in, got to work, and stood at the register, rotating with Miley. Her pumpkin rolls were a hit yesterday and people were begging for more. So this morning, you helped her bake those, and then your blueberry-ginger-lemon pie before handling the morning rush. Dean showed up today, he must have been new in town. “Dean? Right?” You asked, smiling up at him. He nodded, “(Y/N), nice to see you again. I noticed Caramelized-pecan was not a menu item today, what kind of pie do you have for me?” He smirked over the counter. You nod once, smiling then walking over to the display. “I have blueberry lemon ginger,” You motioned. His brows raised, “you come up with these recipes?” He asked, watching you place a whole pie into the box. He was basically drooling, which was a compliment for you. “Yup. Lemon Ginger Blueberry pie was already a flavor but I add a glaze and my own measurements and recipe to the flavor. I hope you enjoy it,” You smiled as he dropped a 20 dollar bill into the tip jar after paying. It was an extremely expensive tip for the 15 dollar pie. You reached your hand in to return it, when you saw a rolled-up paper there. Dean was sitting at the same table he had yesterday before you could have a chance to return the tip. You opened the paper. “Keep it. Call me, (y/n)?” Miley’s voice laughed from behind your shoulder. You slightly kicked your foot at her as if telling her to shut up. “The tall glass of hot over there?” She nudged her head slightly to Dean. You nodded, blushing before going back to the kitchen. You began baking a chocolate cranberry pie for the dinner rush.

The next day, you decided to make an extra pie just in case Dean showed up again, so you wouldn’t be a pie short. Who eats that much pie in the morning and still looks like… well… that? You weren’t complaining though. It just meant every day you could see Dean. You decided eggnog pie was the best option for today. Something unique. You walked up to the counter, taking everyone's orders and sure enough, Dean was standing there in line, with someone today. The other man he was with was tall and had his face stuck in a newspaper. Maybe this extra pie would still manage to make the count off with a new guy. “Hello gorgeous,” Dean placed an elbow on the counter in a smooth, flirtatious manner. The taller man rolled his eyes, “I’m sorry about my brother.” So the mystery was solved. Brothers. You shook your head at the tall guy, “I’m not. I figured you would be coming so I made an extra pie just for you. On the house. Well, not technically because you paid for it with your tip yesterday. Way too generous by the way.” Dean smirked at you and the taller brother walked away, sitting at a table. “Well, you might just be my dream woman,” He smirks as you place a pie into the usual cardboard. You blush and push the box towards him. “Is that why you have come in here every day?” You were only joking, but his slight change in posture seemed to say you hit the truth. “Yes, actually. Also, my love for pie, which yours are the best i’ve ever had. I mean, did you see the number?” He tilted the empty tip jar slightly, smirking at the sight of its emptiness. “Looks like you have. Well, look, I’m in town for a short time. I travel for work. We will probably be here a while so… i want to get to know you,” He smiled a dorky but cute smile. You looked up to the ceiling as if you even had to think about getting to know someone This good looking and charming. “Well, we close the bakery on Sundays, so tomorrow i’m free,” You finally responded cheekily. You searched his expression for any clue on what he was about to say.

“Sounds great. If you bring pie i might just have to marry you,” He laughed. You spent a while talking to him out front, finding out he is a detective, travels with his brother/partner. He sounded like a dream. You two seemed to get along well, a great way to spend a winter. This is the loneliest time of the year for you. Seeing all of the couples walking in, talking about whose house they'll go to for Christmas, where they put that favorite ornament, or what gifts they’ll get their significant others, you knew that you just met this guy, but at least you won't feel as lonely.

Return to Dean Winchester Works

Return to Masterlist

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peaches-of-1 · 5 years

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Peachtober | Day 23: Crinkle

Reader x Werewolf!Jimin

Genre: Fluff

A/N: I did my best not to use he/him or she/her when refering to the reader, so please let me know if I did so that I can fix it.

The day starts as usual, with a pair of black pants being slipped on and the routine of teeth brushing. Laptop is dead, so you decided to leave it home as you begin making a quick microwavable breakfast of Hot Pockets. Two and a cup of whatever drink you have left in the fridge. You do the daily makeup look you’ve gotten used to doing since moving to Seoul due to a teaching job you found no joy with.

Still, the Korean city had claimed your heart and so you were lucky enough to get a job at one of the many coffee shops around town. It had been open for hours already as you were part of the afternoon/late shift. After the meal is thrown down your throat, you quickly tie up your work shoes and catch the bus with all of the other college students who are continuously cramming for the next test.

A little hop to the pavement, a turn to the left, pass the nail salon and vintage clothing store lies a tiny store where you were currently making a living.

Casual greetings all around as the manager tosses you an apron, “With Y/N here, I’m gone for the evening. Goodbye, everyone!”

Her and her husband must’ve gotten in a argument and not speaking because those were the only times she left when you showed up.

“What is it this time?” You asked the only other part timer there.

Big brown eyes and shaggy blonde hair was making yet another Brown Sugar Expresso, “Oh, um. Not sure. They’ve been fighting all day.”

“Ahem,” The manager said.

Jimin looked at him innocently, “I said nothing.”

Both waited for their boss to pass by before asking.

“You think this might be the breaking point?”

He laughed, “They’ve reached this point several times before, so I doubt it.” and then he smiled at the young man waiting for his coffee. “Enjoy your drink.”

“Thank you!” He replied in hesitant Korean.

The blonde boy began to set up the fresh batch orange crinkle cookies and then began to sniff, ending up near your cheek. You asked what he was doing, making him jolt backwards.

He looked at the floor and then back at you, “Sorry. You just. You don’t smell like honey today.” and quickly, he busied himself with eating one of those cookies for himself.

“I decided to actually have a real lunch instead of bread and honey today.” You said, blushing. “I didn’t know you noticed.”

The dark skinned man approached the counter again, “Can I have some napkins, please?”

“Here you go.” The blonde said, giving him several.

“Thank you!” he said with a smile and went back to his laptop.

“Jimin-ssi, you should get his number.” You said, nudging him and boxing up a dozen donuts since a regular would be here rather soon on the way to an office meeting.

Jimin shook his head, “What? No. I couldn’t.”

“But he’s totally your type.” You glanced at the man with coffee bean skin.

“I mean, you aren’t wrong, but I have someone I already like.” He said as you rung up the young woman with short brown hair and glasses.

You looked at him, “Oh, really? They must be the luckiest person in the world to have your affection.”

“Well, I don’t think they know. I have secrets that I don’t want them to be a part of. Secrets like how your crinkle cookie recipe is the best thing I’ve ever had.”

You smiled. Then the bell on the door rang as another regular came in which made your heart jump. They were so cute and suave, but not your type. Still, he was very handsome and always showed up in a crisp suit usually with some sort of unique pattern on it.

“I’ll have a--”

“Pumpkin Spice Caramel Latte with extra foam?” You replied. “It’s easier to remember because you always put your own spin on the seasonal specials.”

He smiled, “Yes, and with a--”

“Chocolate cinnamon bun? Coming right up.”

The Korean blonde man snuck another cookie as Y/N served their obvious crush. Their customer had to know that they were into him. It was clear to Jimin as he worked on cleaning a now empty table with a pencil left on the floor that he’d just put in the lost and found for whenever the woman came back. However, the pencil smelled strange. It was moist smelling...ah, it seemed that she liked to bite on her writing utensils.

“Jimin-ah, can you make some more muffins, please? We’re running out.” Y/N called as they approached the table of an elderly woman who came here ever since her daughter was in middle school.

The daughter rarely came here anymore, busy travelling according to the mom.

As the day went on, the two worked well. The other owner left to go buy flowers for his wife since he felt bad. He told Y/N to lock up since Jimin had to leave earlier. The young blonde had been nervous all day, knowing he would have much time after work to go to the store and then get home before he--a gentle hand scratched the back of his head, calming him down.

“Are you ok, Jimin-ie?” Kind eyes asked the now smiling face.

“Y-yeah. I’m just behind on groceries.” He replied. “I have a big meal to make.”

Y/N nodded, “You really like meat, don’t you? I remember your friend Taehyung visiting and handing you a lot of meat last month. A cooler of it or something. Is it already gone?”

Brown eyes glittered as he nodded at you, “Y-yeah. I do like meat a lot.”

The last customer left, and it was an hour until closing. Jimin could tell Y/N was looking for something inside of her mind. Thinking deeply.

“I’ve got this. You go do your shopping..”

Jimin asked, “Really? It’s not safe for you to be by yourself for so long, and I am supposed to walk you to--”

“I’ll be fine, Jimin. I’ve got my phone on me, and we’ve got tons of knives.” Then Y/N motioned into the corners. “Also, cameras.”

Quickly the man left and then felt his torso for something. He circled around the lockers in the back, like a dog chasing his tail. Then the sparkling trinket of a wolf necklace was dangled in front of him.

“The chain broke and it landed in a drink during our daily rush. I’ve been keeping it in my pocket. Almost forgot about it.” the beautiful coworker said, placing it in Jimin’s small hand.

“Th-thank you, Y/N.”

Then soft hand felt his head, “You’re not getting sick, are you? Your voice is deeper than usual.”

The young man covered his mouth and quickly gathered his stuff as he talked rapidly, “It’s nothing. I promise. Even so, I should go to the doctor’s and get it checked out, but only if it gets worse. I’m sure I’ll be better by tomorrow. Just tired. Sometimes voices get deeper when the person is tired, don’t you know. Um, anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. If you need me, don’t hesitate to call me. Be safe. Ok bye.”

And out the door he went.

You blinked and smiled. Jimin was an adorable coworker, always so excited to see you and very good at following orders. Almost like a puppy, especially when his hair got shaggy. Even the way he often pushed back his hair was like a dog scratching at his ear. Since things were slowing down, you decided to begin the nightly shut down of all the machines since you wouldn’t be cooking or baking anything else for the night.

The time ticked by, and then it was time to lock up. You jumped over the counter and turned the sign. The only things left on were the lights and the speakers as you blasted your favorite K-rock songs as you swept and mopped. You were thinking about your Halloween costume since your friend was holding a party at her place on the spooky holiday.

Maybe you’d see if you could fit your old maid costume or see what outfits went well with a pair of leggings. Nothing too important or special. Just a chance to get drunk with candy corn flavored vodka and cinnamon soju made just for the fall season.

Last thing you had to do was throw out the trash, so you turned off the lights and the speakers and threw your messenger bag on before heading out, making sure to keep the left over blood orange crinkle cookies. You had given the café the recipe, yes, but you yourself hadn’t had the treats in a while.

However, you heard the clanking of trash cans. Was it another cat or a stray dog? Two eyes glowed back at you once it noticed another being near it.

“Ya! Get away from there!” You called, too tired to think about the danger of approaching a potentially rabid animal.

It seemed to back up, though. Then you turned on your phone flashlight, allowing you to confirm the animal was not a cat. It was bigger. It was much bigger than you had seen any dog. Not just any dog. Wolf. It was a full grown wolf that seemed to be not just beast, but had human like legs covered in tan fur. It got on all fours as if faced you. It fan towards you, and you thought you were a goner. Instead, the creature dashed away, but not before you caught the glimmer of silver with green emerald eyes.

That was Jimin’s necklace around that thing’s neck. You ran after it without any hesitation, forgetting about the trash and not realizing that somehow you’d have to fight a wolf to get back your co-worker’s iconic necklace. It wasn’t running as fast as you thought a beast like that could go, so he was easy to catch up with.

The wolf was hiding behind a tree whining.

You held up your hands, “Hey, you have something that belongs to my friend. I just want it back and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“I’m...so...hungry. Stay. Stay back!” It growled.

“So you can talk…” You looked around and saw a nearby convenience store that was still open, such as most things were. “Stay here.”

You quickly went to the store and bought all the stale and warm fried chicken you could afford. Then you dashed back and placed the buckets near the tree and said that you were going to back up. However, you were not given the chance as the form lunged at the poultry. It was no mistaking it now in the moonlight and the street lights. This was a werewolf, something you believed to only reside in fairy tales and fiction of tradition.

There was nothing you could do except watch as it swallowed most of the food whole and spit the bones to the side. Once it seemed to calm down a bit, it waved its tail as it sniffed around your bag. You gave the creature the box of orange cookies that resided inside, the only thing it could be smelling.

“Thank you.” The werewolf said. “I forgot to stock up food and began to wander.”

“You’re welcome.” You replied with a smile. “I should get home, but I need that necklace around your throat. It belongs to a guy I work with.”

It retreated when you said that, starting to stand and walk away.

“Oh, come on. He might like me back if I return it to him.”

The creature stopped in his tracks and asked, “You like him?”

Your cheeks became heated. Did you really just tell something like that to a stranger? A werewolf too?

“Y-yeah. He’s a dumb guy I work with, really sweet. I’m not his type. He’s out of my league, but I would be happy enough if he were grateful to me. He wears that every day. The chain snapped earlier, and I’m sure you just found it near the building, so please.” You stuck your hand out.

“You’re not out of his league. He’d be lucky to go out with a person like you.” His body language was almost...shy?

You laughed, “How could you know?”

“Because I’m him.” He turned around and you saw the unmistakable brown eyes of your coworker. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s Jimin.”

“...what?” You blinked. “You’re joking. Just give me the necklace, and I--”

“You come in everyday smelling like honey because you put it on your toast. You memorized the order of that cute business man because you think he’s cute, totally your type. You always make sure that secretary's order of donuts are ready for her ahead of time. Y/N, please believe me.”

By instinct, you stepped back when he stepped forward.

He sat down, “When you scratch the back of my head, I love it the most.” and he got into a non-threatening position.

You approached cautiously and scratched the back of his head. Just like Jimin, he closed his eyes and smiled, putting his head back as to get more of your touch. It was him.

“So, I’ve got a crush on a werewolf.” You laughed at yourself. “Seems just about right.”

“Would you like to have a werewolf boyfriend?” He asked.

You shrugged, “Sure. Why not?”

#BTS #Jimin #Park Jimin #Bangtan #Jimin x Reader #Reader x Jimin #nb!Reader #Female!Reader #Male!Reader #enby!reader #non gender specifc #Werewolf!Jimin #Human!Reader #Afterhours #food mention #food tw #Day 23 #Peachtober #Inktober

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magicallygrimmwiccan · 5 years

Text

i would walk the distance (but i still don’t really know)

Summary: Patton is a pining mess, and Virgil is tired of being a friend in a cliche fanfiction. Written for Inktober Day 10: Sugar/Spice!

Notes: Sometimes you just gotta write a cute, cliche coffee shop au to cheer yourself up

Read on AO3

“Patton, you don’t even like pumpkin spice!” Virgil exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. “Why the hell are you ordering one?”

“Because it’s in-season, and maybe I’ll like it if I actually drink it?” Patton suggested, voice high and soft as he shrugged awkwardly at his best friend. “Plus, I’m giving money to a small, local coffee shop, so win win!”

“Uh huh. You sure it has nothing to do with you having a crush on the barista?” Virgil smirked, his heterochromatic eyes dancing with playfulness.

Patton squeaked and dove forward, shoving a hand over Virgil’s mouth. “Careful! He could hear you!” Virgil simply rolled his eyes but allowed Patton to make a fool of himself in the middle of the cafe, simply ushering him over to their table in the corner after a moment to let him calm down.

“Patton, he’s literally knee-deep in about ten orders. He’s not paying attention to you.”

“Still! He could hear you, and then he’ll get uncomfortable and hate me and then I’ll be banned from this coffee shop and-”

“Patton, you’re beginning to sound like me,” Virgil sighed. “That’s not going to happen.”

“He’s just… so cute, and perfect, and I really want to get to know him. He seems like a really nice person,” Patton sighed, staring out the window into the crisp autumn air. Soft light filtered through the window to set Patton’s curls on golden fire and give his face a rosy glow. Virgil shot a glance over to the red-haired barista to find him staring at Patton.

“I think he might be interested in you as well,” Virgil murmured, arching an eyebrow at Patton. “I mean, he’s staring right now.”

“Probably because I made a fool of myself,” Patton moaned. Virgil took a long sip of his caramel macchiato and continued to give Patton a look that screamed You are a stupid bitch.

“Listen, you either go talk to him the second he’s done making those beverages, or I go tell him how cute you think he is.”

Patton squeaked and shot to his feet, clutching his pumpkin spice latte to his chest as he hurried up to the counter. Virgil chuckled and took a long sip of his sugary drink, watching his best friend and the barista awkwardly interact. Both had red-stained faces as they fidgeted with the drinks in front of them, giggling and playing with hair as they talked. Virgil simply rolled his eyes and went back to scrolling through Tumblr on his phone. Honestly, romance was never something he’d understood, but if it made Patton happy to flirt with the cute barista, he’s support it.

Patton came back to the table a few minutes later, giggling and clutching a small slip of paper tightly in his hands. “He gave me his number! His name is Roman and he goes to college with us and we’re going to get coffee tomorrow!”

“He works in a coffee shop,” Virgil drawled.

“Yeah, but we’re going to another one to get more pumpkin spice lattes! They’re his favourite, he likes spicier things.”

Virgil blinked, eyebrows inching up his face. “So you like pumpkin spice now?”

Patton shrugged, a bright grin still painting his face. “It’s not the worst, but it’s something that I like.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and went back to sipping his coffee, a small smile on his lips. “Patton, you are a gay disaster.”

“I know I am, kiddo, but so are you,” Patton giggled, sitting down across from Virgil. “Now… help me pick out what to wear tomorrow?”

#sanders sides #inktober #coffee shop au #royality #gay #fluff #soft #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders

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lynnearlington · 6 years

Note

Supercorp: Kara has to report on the industry of college football and drags Lena along cause she’s never been to something like this

I took some liberties with this one. Shocking to no one, I’m sure.

Lena doesn’t care much for football - or for sport in general. She’d much prefer to spend her Saturdays getting work done in the library or in the engineering labs in the hopes that she can spend her Sunday not worrying about it.

Even as classes begin and the student body descends into a fixation over the school football team, Lena steadfastly stays out of the entire ordeal.

It works for her first two years of college. She manages to attend none of the games and falls easily into a routine of Saturday work and Sunday relaxing while her classmates are recovering from hangovers.

In the spring of her sophomore year she meets Kara Danvers through a friend of a friend, and they become loose acquaintances. She sees Kara around campus, they grab lunch a few times. Over the summer, Kara randomly texts her and they strike up a conversation that begins to sprawl outward in scope and they become something like real friends.

Kara changes her life, in the end. In thousands of good ways - none of them at all predictable to her in the fall of her junior year.

One of the ways that Kara’s intent on changing Lena’s life becomes apparent nearly as soon as they first see each other that fall, when Kara mentions the first game of the season on the way to lunch, diving into a discussion on their quarterback situation as though Lena knows anything about “QBR” or whoever Elias and Nate are.

“You’re a football fan?” Lena asks as they stroll across campus towards the student center. It’s still warm enough outside that it doesn’t really feel like fall yet, but campus is bustling with new students - freshmen scurrying around looking lost and upper classmen greeting friends they haven’t seen in months. Kara looks like she’s had a good summer, tall, blonde, and still a little bit tan. Lena had always thought she was cute, but knowing her has made a difference in her attraction.

“Duh,” Kara says, kicking a rock under her feet idly before turning quizzical eyes to Lena. “Are you not?”

It’s clear there’s a right and wrong answer there - Lena’s adept enough at reading situations to tell that much. But she’s not going to lie. Not to the honest blue eyes looking her way. “It’s never really been my thing,” she admits. “I’ve always been too busy to go to the games.”

And maybe the last bit is a slight lie, but incredulity is starting to spread over Kara’s features and Lena just reacts to it.

“Lena, it’s football!” Kara exclaims, clearly appalled.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Lena jokes which is the wrong thing to say because Kara’s eyes seem to get even wider.

“You’re coming to a game with me this season,” Kara states as if it’s been decided. The thought of going anywhere with Kara tinges her chest with warmth but the thought of piling into the massive stadium on campus with a bunch of drunk college students screaming all sorts of insane chants and not being able to sit down at all sounds awful.

Lena makes a bit of a scoffing noise, but swallows it at the determined look in Kara’s eyes. They’ve reached the student center and Kara moves forward to open the door for her.

“I have a very busy semester,” Lena tells her softly, warming at the way Kara jumps ahead of her as they walk through the first set of doors to open the second.

“We’ll see,” is all Kara says and it’s ominous sounding enough that Lena has to laugh.

–

The Fighting Bulldogs open up against the Gotham University Nighthawks. Lena finds the naming conventions of sports teams to be nothing short of ridiculous, but she can’t deny it’s a bit cute when Kara shows her a series of selfies she’d taken at the pep rally of the Bulldogs mascot - a fat English Bulldog named Handsome Dan.

“Are you excited for the game this Saturday?” Kara asks, abandoning her phone to pick her fork up and start to stab at the plate of pasta in front of her. Lena tries to ignore how Kara’s got her legs kicked out, feet resting just short of Lena’s ankles.

Lena blinks. It’s definitely Monday and Lena’s barely thought about her classes on Tuesday much less a football game five days from now. “I suppose,” she answers neutrally, turning the page over in the student newspaper she has sitting next to her tray.

“Are you reading my article?” Kara asks, lifting a curious eye toward the paper as she twirls her fork.

“I don’t think I need to read your op-ed about which campus coffee shop serves the best latte when I’ve already heard you tell me about it in detail,” Lena says. Kara makes a humming noise, poking again at her plate. Lena gets through three lines of an article about a malfunctioning fire alarm in the theatre building that someone is certain is a ghost when Kara sighs loudly.

“I hate the Nighthawks,” Kara intones, twisting noodles around her fork.

The tone is surprising. She’s unused to Kara saying anything negative about anyone, but the vitriol is palpable in Kara’s voice as she continues, “They’re seriously the worst and their stupid mascot should be banned from our stadium. It’s this awful tree. I don’t know why it’s tree, even. They’re the Nighthawks.”

Lena makes a sound of agreement, a bit bemused at the frown on her friend’s face and having nothing else to offer other than support. “What time is the game?”

Kara makes a face like Lena should very well know what time the game is, but answers regardless. “Two,” she says. “Are you going? Will you come with me?”

“I have a lot of work I’d like to get done,” she says and Kara’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t seem keen on pushing Lena. She does, however, sigh heavily.

“Sundays are for homework, Lena, not Saturdays.”

“Says the girl that spent all last Sunday watching reruns of The Golden Girls,” Lena points out, laughing at the attractive flush that creeps into Kara’s cheeks.

“Shut up,” Kara tells her around a mouthful of pasta, her foot kicking softly against Lena’s shin under the table.

–

The leaves start to change and a fall chill rolls onto campus. It means classes start to ramp up on the slide into midterms and campus starts to settle into rhythm.

It also means something Lena hadn’t thought to prepare for - Kara Danvers in jeans and sweaters bringing her pumpkin spice lattes every other morning before their shared philosophy elective.

Lena’s crush is something she’s tried to fight as much as she can for the sake of their friendship, but it’s hard when Kara’s smiling at her on the sidewalk outside her dorm and there’s a warm color to her cheeks from the chill and her blonde hair is curling down around a rust colored sweater.

The latte is far more sugary than anything Lena’d normally drink, but Kara hands it over with a happy grin and she had look so delighted when she’d informed Lena PSLs are back! that Lena doesn’t say anything other than a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Big game tomorrow,” Kara says one Friday morning as they walk to class. Lena takes careful sips of her drink and hovers close to Kara’s warmth.

“Oh?” Lena asks, having absolutely zero idea what qualifies for a big game considering it’s what Kara says nearly every Friday before a game weekend with a serious gaze on her face.

Kara makes an affirmative sound, scrolls through something on her phone as they walk down the sidewalk. From what Lena can see, it’s a table of college football teams. Their school is highlighted at around seventh place. “Vandermeer,” she says, referring to a small school somewhere in the middle of the country. Lena couldn’t name their mascot with a gun to her head.

“Well…bully up?” Lena says tentatively, trying out the chant she’d been hearing around campus for the past two years.

Kara laughs, a happy little sound as she pockets her phone and slings an arm over Lena’s shoulders. “There’s hope for you yet.”

The rest of the conversation gets lost to Lena. Kara keeps their bodies tucked against each other and the heat of her seeps through Lena’s light autumn jacket. That’s all she can really focus on the entire rest of the way to class.

–

Six games into the season and the Fighting Bulldogs have yet to be defeated. Apparently it’s a big deal.

Kara gives her the breakdown over lunch one day after the rest of their small friends group has abandoned them for classes and Lena elects to wait while Kara finishes the rest of her massive tray of food.

“I saw one projection that had us finishing top five for sure if we can close out the season,” Kara says, looking wide eyed and infectiously excited at the prospect.

“That’s great,” Lena says, not entirely knowing what that really means other than something positive by context.

“It means playoffs,�� Kara tells her and Lena just nods, laughs at the massive grin on Kara’s face. That thrumming urge to kiss her friend buzzes so acutely over her skin that Lena has to spread out the fingers of her hands to resist the impulse.

–

The excitement over the recent success of the teams seems to be campus wide, not just contained to the bubbly enthusiasm of her best friend. It’s almost something tangible everywhere Lena goes.

The majority of the student body can be seen sporting a football jersey in the middle of the week or breaking out into spontaneous chants as the game creeps closer.

Lena doesn’t attend, despite Kara’s efforts to cajole her into it. Per usual, she spends her Saturday in the basement of the engineering building working out the kinks in a project due the following Wednesday.

But, uncharacteristically, her mind starts to wander to what Kara’s doing, how the game is going. It itches at her enough that she finds a livefeed of the game on her laptop and puts it on mute as she works.

The game still means nothing to her - the scoring conventions seem a bit contrived and inconsistent and though she picks up some of it by context, she really has very little idea of what’s actually going on.

At least she knows enough that when the game clock ticks to zero and the score is 39-37 in favor of the Bulldogs, it’s a good thing. From the looks of it, the stadium goes crazy, the student section rushing onto the field and the players jumping up and down, throwing their helmets in the air.

It makes Lena smile a bit and she watches the revelry for a few minutes before clicking out of the stream. Before turning back to her project she sends Kara a quick text - good win!

The reply comes much later in the form of a phone call and Kara sounds out of breath and overjoyed when she answers. “What are you doing?”

“I’m working on a project,” Lena tells her.

“You saw the game?” Kara asks, the happy sound of her voice stretching a smile across Lena’s.

“I caught the end of it,” Lena admits and Kara lets out a whooping sound that has Lena laughing.

“We’re going to a party at Winn and James’s place,” Kara says. “You wanna come?”

Lena eyes the work in front of her, hesitant for a moment. “I’m not -”

“Come on, Lena,” Kara entreats. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Bully up! Bulldogs are undefeated!”

“Well, can’t argue with that,” Lena replies dryly, but she’s already packing up her stuff and Kara’s laugh in her ear makes her chest feel fluttery.

–

The off campus house that Winn and James share is packed when Lena gets there, people spilling out onto the front porch and the loud booming sound of music emanating a block away as Lena walks there.

Tugging her jacket tighter over her shoulders, Lena sidesteps a couple stumbling down the long walk up to the house and carefully avoids a pile of empty beer cans. She pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket and pulls up her thread with Kara to text a simple I’m here.

Not even a minute later, Kara’s throwing the front door open and scanning the front yard to find Lena, beaming when their eyes connect and all but skipping down the steps to wrap Lena into a tight hug.

Kara’s just a few inches taller than her, but considerably stronger and it does nothing to calm the dance of nerves in her stomach when Kara picks up her up a bit off the ground as she hugs her, her face colliding with Kara’s neck.

“We won, we won, we won, we won, we won,” Kara chants in her ear, bouncing Lena around into the hug until Lena has to hold onto the back of Kara’s jersey and laugh.

“Congratulations,” Lena says as Kara sets her back down.

There’s a soft detachment in Kara’s gaze that fairly easily conveys how behind Lena is in the drinking portion of the evening, but her smile is the kind of genuine that always makes Lena have to take a deep breath of air in reaction.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Kara says, reaching out to tangle her fingers with Lena’s and tug her towards the front door. “Let’s get drinks.”

Lena easily follows the tug, sees the virtue in finding a drink as quickly as possible if only to give her mouth something to do that isn’t kiss the life out of Kara Danvers.

–

The excitement of victory is palpable throughout the party. Nearly all of the party goers look as if they’ve come straight from the game - still wearing jerseys and face paint. Kara pulls them both deep into the house towards the kitchen where a smattering of their friends are congregated around a table there.

They all seem surprised but happy to see her as Kara goes about mixing a drink on the counter with the wide range of alcohol there. She thinks to pay attention to whatever Kara is doing - sometimes letting Kara mix the drinks can be dangerous - but she gets distracted by Winn who offers her an overly exuberant high five upon seeing her as well as a recap of the last few minutes of the game.

“It was unreal,” he’s gushing, face red and hair in a disarray. There’s blue and gold streaks of paint across his cheeks and what looks like glitter poking out of the neck of his blue jersey. “Boomer is the only man in the whole world who matters to me now.”

Kara comes back to her side, hands her a red plastic cup that Lena inspects a second before taking a hesitant sip. It’s as fruity as she expects it to be, but not completely offensive and just on the side of strong that’s tolerable.

“Boomer Suthfield, best kicker in the game,” Kara exclaims as she catches Winn’s conversation. Winn reacts to it with a low exclamation of agreement and the two of them bump fists. “We won on a last second field goal. Amazing.”

“That’s exciting,” Lena comments, unsure what to do with the all the unbridled energy she can feel in the room, but feeling herself get swept up in it nonetheless.

“Bully up! Beat Quakers!” Kara yells, wrapping an arm around Lena’s shoulders like she’s been apt to do these days. The whole room yells in appreciation, starting to chant BULLY UP with the distinctive syncopated clapping pattern. It’s absurd that a bunch of drunk people can do it with perfect rhythm and performance. Nearly cultish.

Lena lets out a careful breath, but doesn’t fight the pull of warmth from Kara’s side pressing against her own. Winn starts to go off on what Lena realizes from context is the Bulldogs’s next opponent, and she drowns the conversation out in place of leaning into Kara’s body and sipping at her drink.

“Lena, you’ve got to get to a game, I can’t believe you don’t go,” Winn says eventually, pulling Lena’s attention back more fully to what’s being said.

She shrugs, takes another pointed sip of her drink and flushes at Kara’s loud laugh next to her. “I’m usually pretty busy on Saturdays,” she answers.

“It’s just wrong,” Winn says, shaking his head at her, eyes solemn, but his lips in a teasing smile.

“I’ve tried,” Kara tells him, tugging Lena tighter into her side companionably. “Trust me.”

“Well if you can’t get her to go, she’s hopeless,” Winn says, putting his hands up in resignation.

Kara laughs again, looks down at Lena with a grin that has Lena clearing her throat out. The hat on her head is turned backwards, her cheeks red from alcohol and the warmth of the room. She looks gorgeous. “We’ll see.”

Though Lena rolls her eyes, her cheeks grow warmer and she has to hide her face in the rim of her cup lest Kara catch on.

–

The party seems to only get bigger after Lena gets there. More and more people arrive - from where Lena’s not sure - but the house stays packed late into the night. Random chants of BULLY UP break out every few minutes. There’s even a reenactment of the last play of the game staged in the front yard to the joy of not only their house but those of the surrounding neighbors.

Lena hovers close to Kara, and Kara stays close to her, but engages with the rest of their friends. She and Winn take on James and Lucy in a spectacular game of beer pong - the games close enough that Lena starts to feel a significant buzz by the time she and Winn come out on top.

After that they play a series of drinking games around the kitchen table. Mike pulls out a deck of cards for a round of Kings Cup and later Kara loses a game of Never Have I Ever in dramatic fashion.

It’s a good party. Energy is high off the earlier victory and Lena starts to feel it creeping into her own system, the infectious way Kara keeps leading their friends into a chorus of the fight song doing its part to make Lena laugh.

Eventually, sometime after James talks Mike into doing a keg stand but before Winn takes his shirt off, Lena finds her way out to the back porch of the house. It’s blissfully devoid of anyone else and a chill contrast to the heat of the kitchen. She presses her hands to the warmth of her cheeks and breathes out into the crisp fall air.

The sound of the door swinging open indicates Kara’s arrival, and her friend paces across the back deck to Lena’s side, sitting next to her on the steps there. “Hey, whatcha doing?”

“Hot in the kitchen,” Lena answers, just drunk enough to lean over against Kara’s shoulder and take a deep inhale of Kara’s presence.

“Mmm,” Kara agrees in a low hum, shifting closer to Lena’s body and looking out across the dark backyard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lena answers, feeling inexplicably sleepy all of a sudden, but unwilling to let go of this quiet moment with Kara. She sits up to avoid falling asleep and smiles at her friend.

Kara smiles back, her eyes holding Lena’s in a short still moment. “I’m really glad you came out tonight,” Kara says in a quiet tumble of words that pull against Lena’s chest in a way that starts to feel inevitable.

Lena blinks, licks out against dry lips and knows her usual resistance to this all consuming crush she has is vulnerable right now. “Me too,” she replies, her eyes unable to stop from straying to Kara’s mouth.

The moment feels like it stills, the muted sound of the party the only sound around them. Kara takes a deep breath and Lena wishes she had a drink in her hands if only to have something to do with them that wasn’t wrapping into the fabric of Kara’s jersey.

“Can I do something?” Kara asks quietly, her cheeks flushed - whether from alcohol or from the cool night air, Lena’s unsure. “It might be crazy.”

“Crazy?” It’s unclear what Kara’s talking about and Lena thinks that might have a lot to do with how they’ve shifted closer and she can’t stop her brain from spiraling down thoughts of what it might be like if she just gave into temptation and pressed her lips against Kara’s.

“Good crazy,” Kara says quickly and Lena laughs noiselessly.

“Well then by all means,” she says, but she barely gets the last word out before Kara pushes forward, their noses bumping softly on the way until suddenly they’re kissing and Lena feels her breath get sucked out of her chest.

It happens quickly, so fast that Lena’s brain barely registers it even though her lips respond, slant against Kara’s and her fingers come up to play at Kara’s chin, pulling her in closer.

And then it’s over.

The back door to the porch bursts open in a loud thud and Mike is stumbling across the deck in loud drunken footsteps until he’s all but falling into the yard and puking his guts up into the grass.

Winn comes jogging behind him, hunched over and patting his back as Mike continues to hurl.

Lena gags at the sight of it as they both jump up from where they’d been sitting and Kara moves down the steps towards the two boys.

“Go back inside,” Kara tells her over her shoulder, laughing a little at the disgusted face Lena’s making.

Lena doesn’t argue, is already turned that direction anyway. It isn’t until she’s back in the kitchen that she fully realizes what’s just occurred. Her lips feeling tingly and her throat dry and her chest expansive and oh god she should go.

Without so much as a goodbye to anyone, she makes her way through the house and out the front door, past a group of people tossing the Bulldogs’s mascot’s head in the air across the yard and back towards campus.

–

Late Sunday morning, Lena gets a text from Kara. I’m outside your dorm.

And so she is. Standing at the bottom of the front steps in a navy v-neck sweater and light wash jeans, holding two cups of coffee that Lena knows instinctively are pumpkin spice lattes.

“Hi,” Lena greets, feeling shy and uncertain as she takes one of the cups from Kara. She’s dressed in the sweatpants she slept in and a long sweater against the chill morning. Her head feels a bit thick from the drinking the previous night but the look on Kara’s face is wiping her fatigue away.

“Hi,” Kara parrots, pocketing one of her hands and shifting on her feet in an adorably hesitant movement. Her hair is pulled back, but a few wisps have escaped at the sides and Lena wraps her hands around her coffee to avoid reaching out and tucking them back behind her ear.

Everything feels like it’s tilting precariously on the events of the night before, and Lena’s not sure which way they’re going to fall.

That is, until Kara looks away, her lips twisting in what looks like a smile trying to burst across her face. “So, I totally kissed you last night,” she says in a quick sequence of words that makes Lena laugh. “You totally did,” she agrees, the memory of it flushing across her skin.

“And then Mike puked.”

“Yes.

“And then you ran away.”

“It was gross,” Lena says defensively and Kara’s lips thin.

“The kiss?”

Lena steps forward in reaction. “The puking,” she says definitively and Kara’s lips creep into a smug looking smile.

“So the kiss was good?”

“Crazy,” Lena says, echoing Kara’s words from the night before.

“Good crazy though,” Kara says, her smile hiding behind the rim of her white coffee cup.

“Good crazy,” Lena agrees softly, feeling her chest is stretching out and up into her throat. “Why did you do it?”

Kara shrugs, eyes a bright blue against the overcast sky above them. “I’d been wanting to,” she answers quietly. “And I figured if Boomer could make a forty-eight yard field goal against the wind to win the game, I could probably kiss my best friend that I’d been crushing on for months.”

It beats warmly up Lena’s throat as she laughs, her cheeks flushing. “Bully up,” she replies between chuckles and Kara joins her in the sound before stepping forward and cutting it off with a swift kiss.

–

It doesn’t change much other than Kara seems to take their new relationship status as a free pass to talk even more about football. As if now that they’re dating Lena wants to hear about rushing yard averages and ranking systems.

She doesn’t.

But that doesn’t stop Kara who continues to try and get Lena to the games or game watch parties every Saturday and feels it necessarily to fill her in on all football related news over meals or late at night when they’re lazing about Lena’s little dorm room. The only good thing about it is that Kara looks cute when she talks about it all, her hands waving around and her eyes excited.

The Bulldogs go undefeated. Become the undisputed number one team in the nation. A fact that Kara’s been reminding Lena nearly every day since it was announced, as though Lena has no access to the news or doesn’t live on campus with thousands of other people who are also obsessed with the Bulldogs.

They head into a playoff system which puts them in a win-or-go-home game to make it into the National Championship.

“I got press passes to the game,” Kara tells her one night, as they’re sitting on Lena’s couch and Kara’s watching ESPN. “We’d be on the sideline.”

“How did you get press passes?” Lena asks, quirking a brow and pressing her foot into Kara’s thigh to get her to keep massaging it. Kara grabs her foot without looking away from Lena’s face, her eyes intent.

“I write for the school paper,” Kara reminds her and Lena shoots her a pointed look.

“You write an editorial column, not the sports section.”

Kara shrugs, feigns a look of innocence. “So?”

It makes Lena laugh. “I don’t want to know.”

“Just say you’ll come,” Kara entreats. “It’s the playoffs and you’d have one of the best seats in the house. Who knows when you’ll get that kind of opportunity again.”

It’s been months of Kara trying to convince her to come to a game and maybe it’s the way Kara’s lips have that just kissed look about them and her hair is a little tangled from Lena’s fingers, but there’s something about the moment and the way Kara’s thumb is running up the arch of Lena’s foot that makes her finally say, “Okay, fine.”

The way Kara’s eyes light up in excitement makes Lena sink into a feeling of contentment and crawl across the couch until they’re kissing again.

–

The play-in game is on the first Saturday back from winter break.

The atmosphere around game feels combustible.

It’s at a neutral site, but the stadium it’s held at is only a few hours away from their campus, so she and Kara take the drive down way too early under the guise of Kara needing to interview people - when it’s apparent that Kara just wants to soak in as much of the atmosphere as possible.

Kara buys her a blue jersey with the number 10 across the chest in large white letters because she insists Lena can’t show up to the game without proper attire. It’s big enough that it fits over a thick sweater and she steals one of Kara’s many winter hats with the school logo on the front. When Lena comes out of her dorm with it on, Kara gets out of the car to kiss her for five minutes against the car door.

It’s deep enough into fall that it’s practically the beginning of winter and the air is cold by the time the game kicks off, the stadium rocking.

With press badges slung around their neck, they make their way onto the field and take their place among the crowd of people watching the game from the small press area in the corner of the endzone.

The energy in the building is undeniably electric. Loud music is pumping through the speakers and the crowd is engaged in a series of chants between the home and away fans. Lena can see how easy it would be to get swept up into something like this.

It helps that Kara can’t contain her own excitement. She’s practically bouncing in a mix of nerves and enthusiasm. It doesn’t get better as the game goes on. Kara’s body moves with every play the team makes as if her phantom throws and kicks will somehow translate to the game and make the ball or player move the way she wants them to.

Lena stands beside her and takes it all in, her arms crossed over her chest against the cold air. Eventually, Kara seems to notice and wraps Lena up in her arms in an offer of body heat.

Lena’s grateful for the warmth, sinks into Kara’s hold and enjoys the way Kara now whispers her commentary into Lena’s ear. It certainly makes the game far more interesting than before and though Lena’s distracted by the way Kara’s body feels pressed up against her, she actually pays attention enough to feel invested in the result.

When the Bulldogs win with a last minute touchdown right in the endzone they’re standing next to, Lena screams in reaction, a burst of sound she can’t quell the moment she’s realized what’s happened. The crowd goes wild along with her and Kara’s arms tighten abruptly around her waist, lifting her quickly into the air with an exuberant whoop. The player who’s scored jogs right past them, waving up at the fans and doing an absurd dance as his teammates start to swarm him.

Kara does actually end up doing some reporting, taking Lena into the press conference room and scribbling down notes. She holds Lena’s hand the whole way home and only plays the school fight song three times on the drive.

–

Winn and James host the watch party for the National Championship. Apparently Kara couldn’t quite con her editor into getting press passes for a trip to Texas.

She spends the whole week looking squirrely, taking every moment as some sort of omen for the game on Saturday. On Tuesday, Lena has to talk Kara off the ledge after the poor student union worker tells her they’ve run out of Froot Loops. On Friday, Lena comes over to Kara’s dorm and is treated to a full hour detailing her ideal gameplan, complete with plays she’s drawn up on one of her video games. Saturday morning, she’s woken up at six by someone sprinting down the hall of her dorm screaming BULLY UP and hitting every door along the way. Kara is then incapable of falling back asleep, and therefore Lena is awake too.

By the game comes around, Lena’s grateful if only to get Kara’s ridiculous train of superstitions to come to a halt.

The house is crowded with their friends - there’s a very strict invitation policy: Bulldog fans only. How Kara convinced them to allow Lena there, she’s not sure, but she imagines it has something to do with Kara’s continuing insistence that Lena’s good luck for the Bulldogs. We went undefeated after we became friends.

There are jello shots in the school colors, but only Mike and Lucy seem interested in them. Winn sits about two feet in front of the massive television and nurses the same beer for the entirety of the first quarter. James spends most of the game pacing back and forth behind the couch and murmuring commentary. Kara won’t even touch the massive array of food on the table in front of them - a telling thing if anything. Instead she sits on the couch next to Lena and leans forward, hands pressed to her face. Lena spends most of her time running her fingers up and down Kara’s back in what has to be a futile attempt to calm her.

The Bulldogs do okay, but not great for the first three quarters. The game stays close, the other team staying in one score territory. Right before the start of the fourth, the opposing team scores to tie it and Kara looks like she may fall to her knees and start crying. Her hands scrub so forcefully over her face that Lena grabs one of them to get her to stop.

But then Elias Newsome, the starting quarterback who had been chosen in week four (after great campuswide debate that Lena had heard too much about from her girlfriend), takes over. Watching it happen is like a bomb going off, the energy rippling through the whole team. One minute, the Bulldogs are struggling against a tough defense, the next, Kara is standing on the couch and screaming at the top of her lungs as their star running back sprints down the field for a 98 yard touchdown.

They score 21 unanswered points and Kara cries through the whole trophy presentation, her head in her hands.

–

Lena thinks maybe winning a National Championship might temper some of Kara’s fanaticism about football. Why she ever thought this, she’s not entirely sure, but it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

At the start of their senior year, Kara spends the majority of the preseason talking at length about Nate Groblan taking the reins of the team now that Elias has graduated and been drafted. It’s in the middle of such a one-sided conversation when she pauses for a second, her head in Lena’s lap. It’s chilly, the first signs of fall starting to appear around campus. PSLs have arrived even earlier this year and Kara’s happiness is of the sort that bleeds across Lena’s chest.

“I love you,” Kara says. It’s not the first time she’s said it, nor will it be the last. But it still warms Lena up, her fingers tracing through the blonde curls stretched across her legs.

“I love you, too,” Lena says.

“More than I love the Bulldogs,” Kara says, very seriously. It’s concerning to Lena that the statement really means a lot.

“I feel so lucky,” Lena says drily. Kara laughs, reaching up to tug at the sweatshirt Lena had liberated from Kara’s collection last winter. BULLY UP is proudly written across it.

“You’re my lucky charm, that’s for sure,” Kara says. Her face turns serious. “You know that you’re never allowed to miss a Bulldogs game for the rest of our lives, right?”

“For the rest of our lives, huh?” Lena says, poking at Kara’s side. But she doesn’t look embarrassed.

“For the rest of our lives. For the Bulldogs,” Kara says, half-sitting up. Lena meets her halfway, pressing their lips together.

“Well, bully up,” Lena murmurs. She ends up forced into a very loud stadium the next Saturday, her girlfriend urging her though complicated chants and shotgunning beers afterwards, when Nate throws five touchdowns in his debut. Mike throws up, Winn takes his shirt off. Kara holds her hand.

It’s not so bad.

FALL PROMPTS | KO-FI

#fall prompts #prompt fill #writing fall prompts #this tag is for fic #supercorp fic #Anonymous #college au

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