#but pumpkin spice scent is DISGUSTING

[jacks-and-graves]

Pumpkin spice this Cinnamon Apple that. What candle I want??? Wood smoke and sweet corn. Hay. Wet leaves. Crisp night air that makes you feel like you could turn into a werewolf at any moment.

[beanlot]

MISTRESS

sevika x maid!reader

at first, you were her maid. but master liked you just enough to make you her mistress.

word count: 4.0k

genre: smut

warnings: amab!sevika, age gap, sevika cheats on her wife, slight spanking, spit, vibrator use, master/servant relationship, breeding kink

────────────────

“what a gorgeous colour.” her fingers ironing the corners of her lips, mahogany lipstick cleansing from the cedar skin in superlative fashion. she was objectively sumptuous, a classy woman surrounded by old money and platinum basin sinks; an easy life enough that she didn’t even have to raise a finger to apply honeydew exfoliation masks to her glistening skin. “don’t you think?” she stares at you through the mirror, umber eyes fanned by silky lashes - lids glossed with everlasting lustre of golden butterscotch, tempted to believe you could see your reflection if stood close enough.

“yes, madam.” you nod, fingers clasped onto a hanger, vintage dress glittered with merlot gemstones fluorescent against the sapphire tiles of the floor. you weren’t lying, it was a gorgeous colour. and madam wasn’t particularly sinister against you, or even sinister at all..

“you filthy pig.”

“don’t you dare touch my antiques.”

“look at you, fix this messy hair. i will not have guests over whilst you look like a disgusting hooker.”

mostly.

“vika loves this colour.” she sighs, french-tipped nails tapping against the argyle jewellery around her neck. her scent of prevailing pumpkin spice suffocating you momentarily when she turns around, taking the hanger from your grip; you’ll watch as she lays the dress against her body, feminine curves of her hips accentuated through the garnet jewels as she subtly twirls around. she hum, lashes batting through the scrutiny before she shoves the hanger into your chest hurriedly. “be a dear for me and tighten the waist.”

and sure, you don’t expect the best of treatment regardless. you were on the back burner, disposable in every aspect with your dull shirt collar; onyx skirt tucking in your buttons and the driest of hands from the constant polishing. “yes ma-“ a shrill bark interrupts you, and it’s when you turn around that you see a woolly poodle, pastel frilly dress, wiggling through the door.

“ugh, pinkiebear! what are you doing, my baby snuffles?” and just like that, as madam scoops the pup into her arms, you’re left alone in the bathroom. moroccan rose handwash beside her gold-plaited cosmetics, pomegranate face serums and emerald earrings; you’d wondered what the oils would feel like on your fingertips, the creaminess against your skin soaking with pulchritude. it feels like bait when you see that one tub is already open, pale watermelon serum calling your fucking name - she won’t notice, there’s no way.

so you tenderly swab at the surface, the velvety touch on your skin.. it already makes you feel pretty, glammed up, like her. and the dysphoria only amplifies ironically when you massage the pearly ointment into your cheek, the winsome highlight when you turn your head not going unnoticed.

wine glass and plate in hand as you approach sevika’s master’s study, nudging the door with your shoulder. it was smoked salmon and caviar, and if you weren’t so fond of her, it would be rational to believe she was intentionally inflicting the purgatory of starvation onto you. but she was not resentful, her muffled tone of come in prompting you to amble inside; the air murky from her cigar smoke, illuminated by dim apricot from the scattered lamps. and she’s there, with every inhale, you can decipher the ocherous flame between her lips - her fingers clearing her desk when she sees the wine bottle tucked under your arm.

“thank you, darling.” she murmurs within the fever dream, fumes seeping through her lips to which she fans out when you’re beside her desk. it’s elixir to taste, and although it’s toxin on your tongue, it’s contradicting - plate and wine glass settled against the oak, careful to avoid her disarray of books and orderly inklings when you pour the currant. she examines this, raising an eyebrow before tapping the tobacco against an ashtray. “are you hungry?”

fuck, you have no idea.

“no, master.” you shake your head, because even though you could feel your organs internally booing inside from the withering, you were under an obligation of being polite. and hell, it was reasonable for her to concern herself with your wellbeing per se: she was older, much older; yet you merely took it as manners, sympathy that you weren’t born into such opulence. so when you finish pouring, tenderly placing the bottle beside master’s glass - it’s paralysis when her coercive words refrain you from leaving the room as you intended. “come here.” she instructs, virescent globes eclipsed with hues of oxblood when you maintain eye contact from your awkward distance. she’s manspreading, white button-up loose against her chest, and the uncertainty only amplifies when master’s tone becomes demanding. “come.. here.”

so you shuffle towards her, and you’re not sure if it’s the nicotine or the peril brunt of her influential stare, but your blood pressure raises when you stop - that maybe you’d said something wrong, gotten a wine she didn’t like, or you were vicariously responsible for the chef’s error. but the neurotic thoughts plummet when you see her slice an intricate cube of the salmon, fork held out to you with sincerity.

“try it, it’s good for you.” she advises, and you’re under automatism to obey - her fingers scraping against yours when you take the fork, examining the glassy block. you’re not sure what it’s seasoned with, only able to distinguish the honey glaze and sprinkle of pepper; you couldn’t even fucking describe what salmon tasted like, a luxury that your flimsy uniform never got to see up close. and you feel emotional when it finds itself between your teeth, erupting with foreign rich oils and glacé syrup.

you want to appreciate it, had you not interpreted the investigative glances she’s giving you. skeptical eyebrows dipping in, defining the droopiness of her lids and the eclipse of gunmetal in her narrowed pupils - they search your face, because there’s something about you that master just can’t pinpoint. “you’re glowing.” she mumbles, fingers branching out toward you and framing your jaw ever so tenderly; thumb stroking along the curves of your cheekbone, the familiar and velvety texture of your skin no stranger to master. “you’ve been using my wife’s stuff, haven’t you?”

great.

of course, how could you have been so recklessly fucking dense? you’d just swabbed a few thousands onto your face and expected that nobody would’ve been able to put two and two together, and now you’re stood here like a fucking embarrassment whilst her conquering globes assess you. master was going to obliterate you for even contemplating putting your filthy wilted fingers on her wife’s belongings, and you’re just waiting for her to call the chef over to slice you into little pepperonis and use your torso as a fucking piñata for her fancydancy din-

“looks good on you.” she mumbles, and the harmonising words nosedive into your stomach with more adamantine force than waiting for her to beat you to a pulp. her fingers streamlining down your jaw before she picks up her plate, ludic smirk concealing the mulberry on her lips as she offers her plate towards you. “don’t tell.”

you look back and forth, and it’s only when she nudges the porcelain into your stomach that you realise what she meant. she was only really interested in the wine, and within her hospitality, gave you something to eat for the night.

───────────

“your muscles are all contracting, just relax.”

“i’m trying..”

“you should really look into tai-chi, saves me hours of making these for you.

i’ll be back tomorrow,

ice or magnesium for any muscle pain,

is that a chip in the wall?

anyway, i’ll see you tomorrow, my lovely~.”

you’d been waiting outside her room for about forty minutes, folded blouse and dress shirts in hand; although you liked to consider yourself respectful of master’s private conversations, not even the bricky walls and thick interior of the hallways could muffle the massage therapist’s jarringly piercing voice - one that only amplifies when master’s door opens, a tiny woman pootling herself down the hall with a bowl of water, peppermint leaves floating within the misty pool.

it’s rosemary and eucalyptus when you inhale, frissons of sweltering air blossoming your way as the door closes over only slightly. but you’re prudent, you’re conditioned to be, waiting outside her door for her to have her few minutes of privacy - but she calls you in when she identifies your shadow against her marble tiles, eyes absentmindedly tracing the silhouette of your hips.

and when you walk in, nudging the door ever so slightly, she’s face-down on the master bed; surrounded by canary silk pillows and lime basil candles, her wine cellar visible from where you stand. you approach the palladium drawers, and whilst your job was plainsailing, the difficulty of having to avert your eyes from her bare back did it’s due diligence to make it just a little harder for you. but you stay silent nonetheless, the palatable glimmering against her burly shoulders, one that made you envy a massage therapist’s expertise as you organise her shirts.

“you have pain, master?” you mumble, clearing your throat when it starts to disintegrate at the mercy of her tensing shoulders, glorious muscle twitching. “my shoulders, darling. it’s not so bad.” she doesn’t move, and although you seem satisfied with the composed silence, the thought of leaving in it made your stomach sour.

“is there anything i can do?” you offer, graphite eyes piercing into your body when she turns her head against the pillow - you can tell she’s engrossed in those retrospective thoughts of hers by the way she’s zoning out, clouding globes that flutter over you before she pats the mattress.

“lay with me..” she mutters, black pepper fragrant when she inches away, leaving you a temptingly delectable space beside her. it feels wrong, and your ears can already feel the wrath of madam’s scream when she finds out you dared even the slightest courage to lay in her bed, beside her wife.

but master was at the top of the food chain.

so you reluctantly obey, not oblivious to the raw sensation of eagerness when her bare abdomen raises slightly from the mattress - she’s toned, noir curves that only excite the vim when you’re slithering into the space she’d left you. but it’s not enough to dilute your inhibitions, your body rigid when her fingers flutter against your waist; she notices this, intoxication when her whisper caresses against your ear. “relax, relax.” she whispers, the suggestive timbre diminishing you - she waits until you slump into the satin, plumose textures under your fingertips, before her arm cases over your waist and trails you against her bare chest. it’s morally profane, warmth from her breasts contagious on your spine, skin sweltering idyllically - kittenish and lewd and wow you’re getting horny.

it’s silent for a few minutes. but you feel dirty, her vanilla comfort something you ruined.

“you remind me of my wife when we first met.” the vanilla wisps against your jaw curdling into vulgarity when her fingers tenderly clutch at the hem of your skirt, and although one part of you feels like nothing more than a doll for her to use the one night her wife is out attending a dinner, another is relieved when the wintry air strikes your thighs.

“young,” her fingers lifting the skirt enough that her perverted eyes can search your hips, the way they embrace the black straps of your underwear.

“pretty,” her nails glissading against your inner thighs, forefinger sinking between them enough that they’re under automatism to separate. you try to convince yourself that it’s because you don’t want to get into trouble, disappoint that streak of high expectations you managed to leap over the past few weeks - but by the vim in your clit, it was disgustingly undeniable it was because fantasy was becoming reality.

“fertile.” she delicately taps your clothed clit, subtle sensitivity that already gets your hips rolling into her crude touch. her engagement ring flaring in your peripheral when her left hand slinks around your body, black opal glinting as her palm rests against your breasts. “look at me.” her lips tickling against your cheek as you turn to her, hues of predatory oxblood glossing over her lead pupils. she likes that she owns you, conditioned you to be her little pet, dominated your identity to nothing more than her servant.

so the overly obscene taste on her lips when she’d pressed her forehead against yours, skin searing with wealthy indecency was no shock. she was impulsive, lips against yours, unseemly sounds of anticipated smooches as you drink up the taste of peppermint. she wants to be delicate for you, but the instinct outlasting the grace when she hears you hum. you’re heedless of your sloppy grinding, shaky exhales which only worsen when she pulls away; her thumb draping your bottom lip down only slightly. jewels of her spit streamlining into your mouth, your tongue absorbing the droplets filthily. “pretty girl.” she swallows, eyes darting along your jaw, her spit slowly drizzling down your neck.

you want to tell her that this is wrong, that she’s a married woman, but the night already feels drilled into stone when her fingers manipulate the buttons on your chest, cleavage satisfying her sadistic eyes with every one coming undone. your shirt loosens, sinking down your back and accentuating the feminine enticement master was under whilst her fingers revel in the linen cotton of your bra, the straps cunningly draping off your shoulders. “aren’t you gorgeous, look at you.” she whispers, your breasts tingling when there’s nothing there to cover them anymore, her fingers folding your bra down to your stomach.

admiring the way your nipples harden under her fingertips, delicately pinching the responsive buds. you nod, because you expect her to want you to, flinching when you roll your hips against her sturdy thigh; thick imprint of her veiny cock paralysing you momentarily.

“lean over in that drawer.” she gestures to the bedside cabinet, and you’re sceptical when you lean over, your skirt hitching up ever so slightly. and if the humiliation of having your ass presented to her like a fucking showpiece wasn’t degrading enough, the barbaric strike of her palm against it was. you squeak, flinching necessarily - her palm easing the inflamed area intricately, before walloping back down onto your skin. you want to fucking weep, blinking through the blur of your tormented tears, opening the drawer to which a plaited vibrator lays.

“that’s the one.” she confirms, taking it from your fingers as you lay back into the mattress, ass ignited with scorching goosebumps from the brutish force behind her arms. you go to defend yourself, because honestly, you feel lower than the bottom of the food chain - you were no blossoming mighty oak, but rather a withering sunflower under her assertion.. but she knows what you’re about to say. “master, i haven’t do-“

“you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine. i’ll make you feel good.” she sits up, and although she intends to comfort you, it only intimidates you further when her tongue wets her lips; fingers slewing the fabric of your underwear to the side and leaving your slit prey to her predacious stare, only amplifying when she unveils how truly drenched your folds are. but she doesn’t say anything, only leaning over whilst a bullet of her spit seeps between her lips and missiles itself against your clit.

you already feel numb, the heavenly pressure of seventh heaven when you hear the whirring of her vibrator, your thighs quivering with the company of your stimulated whines when the tip purrs against your clitoral hood. “that’s it, atta girl.” she praises, her breasts pressing themselves against your bare spine when she situated herself beside you again. it’s nirvana, humping against the vibrator so primitively, erogenous arcady to hear your incessant whimpers echo throughout the room. you’re sweating by now, at peace with the fire and brimstone breeding on your skin - but you want more, your fingers grazing over the stiff imprint of her desperate cock.

her breath is jagged, submerging the vibrator harder onto your clit, your ankles starting to twitch at the susceptibility. you’re not sure if it’s enough to make you come just yet, but that thought deteriorates when her finger glissades down your slit and streams itself inside of your hole. “fuck.. you’ve made my cock all hard.” she sighs against your cheek, your walls greeting her indiscriminately; spasming with every hum against your clit. she’s testing the waters, fingertips taking a liking to the spongy textures when she tenderly twines it upwards, the pornographic desire in your clit to orgasm more reckless than ever. but you’re not the only one suffering, because sevika is finding that her cock is actually starting to fucking hurt from the distress of not being able to just have her way with you again and again and again.

but she’s patient, finger gliding itself in and out of you; assaulting that carnal pit in your walls as your thighs tremble as she fucks you with them. instinctive sobs leaving your throat unmonitored, and honestly, you wouldn’t be able to describe it even if given a fucking thesaurus - sneezelike corkscrew ballooning itself inside your hips when she hooks another finger inside, arousing squelching with every hammer against your folds. “please..” you whisper, unbeknownst to the soreness in your fingers as they lock, clenching tightly on her belt.

and when she’s satisfied with how vulnerable you are under her, the sensitivity just right, she’ll admire the quavering of your hips and the tightening of your thighs before dragging the vibrator away from your clit. “huh?” you squeak, cunt clenching around her fingers at the sudden loss of her manipulation. you’re about to complain, wail about how much of a fucking tease she is, but she relieves the anguish by leaning over your thighs; her tongue replacing the device and doing its dirty work when it swipes over your hood, delving between your folds and schemingly flicking over your erect bud.

just like that, you’re shaking again, thigh hoisting itself up and planting itself on her bare, burly shoulder. your mewls of master twirling repeatedly in a rabbit hole of ecstasy when her damp lips envelop your clit and suck with cruelty, fingers maintaining their agonising operation; battering into you with precision and artsy discipline, like she’s done this too many times before.

but it’s dispiriting for her, because she wants to be a lovemaker for you, wants to appreciate you for the fine young woman you are - yet the throbbing in her cock conquers that yearning, and it’s then that she pulls away with such self-hatred. “are you gonna let me put my cock inside your cunt, darling?” she exhales, fingers slewing out of your brimming hole, selfishly drizzling your discharge over the mattress and coating over the sable leather of her belt when she goes to unbuckle it.

“yes. yes, master.” you comply, ultramarine daze when you blink; pixels of orchid blooming in your vision when you even did as much as look down to her belt. fingers tackling the every latch, submerging as they frame her veiny shaft - cock springing out and admittedly, inciting nothing more than disruptive thoughts of am i going to fucking live to see tomorrow after this.

she’s thick, and monumental.. fucking handcrafted by gods with such clarity. enough that all of that internal envy becomes more.. not envy, because you know this is gonna really fucking hurt, and you’re not liking how much she exceeds your expectations at the expense of what’s gonna happen to your poor fucking vagina. “do you still want this?” she murmurs when she notices the hues of uncertainty in your eyes, superficial doubt that she interprets easily - it’s an ego boost, artificial concern to conceal her everlasting inclination to ruin you. but you blink at her, flickering between her eyes and the slightly palatable mulberry tip of her cock, before you nod.

it would be cruel for her to nosedive straight into you, and even she knows this, her tip glissading through your folds and lubricated with your slick. she’s slightly sensitive, the warmth of your cunt only amplifying the immense throbbing, but she’s consistent this time - your clit rubbing against her head only instantaneously as she accustoms herself with your textures.

“this might hurt, my love, just a little.” she whispers against your jaw, fingers grappling at your hips as her own angles forward, tip insidious as it skims into your walls; your body merely a betrayal of your conscience when your walls welcome her. but it’s smooth, as she pushes herself in with such fucking entitlement, your insipid moisture coating her cock.

because she owned you, every little fragment.

her mindless breaths against your bare shoulder, the subtle rocks in her hips purely intuition. she hasn’t felt this in years, the vehemence of her girth wrapped around such a fine woman, and it motivates the urge for her to start thrusting your hips back into her. your whimpering sobs with every cudgel of her skin against yours, the indignity of her abdomen pounding against your spine and the raunchy heat of her cock assaulting your cunt.

influx of adrenaline when she hears you mewl, her sloppy kisses on your nape sultry and blistering. “i know, i know it feels good..” she sighs, both hands clenching at your thighs, your hips, your waist- anything to feel herself become adaptable inside of you, anything to get a taste of the rapture inside of herself.

“pretty.. pretty girl..” her muffled groan echoing in your ears as she gets herself off into you. she was dictating your self-worth, dictating your fucking life.. and although some of it felt as if it was just pulling the pieces together, another felt it all shatter into irreversible ruins as her left hand compressed itself onto your clit; engagement ring ever so slightly abrading itself against your wet folds.

and that’s when you feel it.

the sheer pinnacles of rhapsody so distinct as her fingers roll your clit in circular motions superlatively, cock swollen and erect. “please.. please..” you sigh, the jagged timbre exposing how receptive your bundles of nerves were; fingertips touching the very eminent icicles of orgasm when she speaks her foul language in your ears.

“i’m gonna come inside you, do you want that?”

“uh huh.”

“gonna make you the mother of my kids..”

“mhm-hm, master please..”

and then it erupts inside, whirlwind of frenzy that you could only compare to what felt like being edged for hours. your clit numb and jaded, the overstimulation aggravating as your walls pulse around her cock so tightly that she doesn’t even need to continue pummelling into you. conclusively, you were a mess - her palm sealing itself over your lips to repress the uncontrollable cry, tone it down ever so slightly, arms that confine your body as you tremble and do your upmost fucking best to recover.

and after a few minutes of her rocking a few inches back and forth into you, the dishevelled grunt and adhesion of her bangs against your cheek; quivering fingers against your lips and hips that airbrush themselves to divinity let you know that she’s just came.

and something feels off, seriously off. so full and saturated, and it’s when her cock slews itself out of you that you know there’s no way you’re the only one behind all the mess; looking between your legs and flinching at the pearly cream drizzling out of your hole, thick and balmy. your juices meshing together in such harmony that you feel disgust, and yet hypnosis. because she never wanted a maid,

she wanted a mistress.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 10 - Floor

@rosekillermicrofic September 10, word count 520

Previous part First Jegulus part

The air fryer was whirring quietly, emitting the heavenly scent of bacon. It was Evans's new favourite toy and Barty had to admit he quite liked just being able to throw food in it and not have to mess about waiting for the oven to heat up. 

He and Evan leaned against the counter watching the counter count down, his mouth wouldn’t stop watering. 

“Good morning,” James said, far too chipper for the amount of alcohol he had drunk last night.

“Bacon sandwiches?” Barty mumbled as a way of greeting. 

“Sounds great, thank you,” James smiled. He stood awkwardly by Regulus as Regulus flicked the kettle on. 

“Coffee, tea? Barty and Evan don’t have pumpkin spice, just so you know,” Regulus smirked at James. Barty had to hold back a gip at the mention of Pumpkin Spice. 

“Eww, no, that shit is not allowed past the front door. James, just no,” Evan grimaced. He felt the same way as Barty did about gimmicky flavours.  

“Black coffee is fine thank you,” James laughed at Evan’s look of disgust. 

“A much more acceptable coffee order,” Regulus nodded in approval. 

Unable to help himself, Barty felt the need to start ribbing James. 

“Enjoy our bed then?” He asked when everyone was digging into their breakfasts. 

“Very comfortable, I fell asleep the second I got into it,” James told them between bites. 

“Enjoyed your shower too,” Regulus added, a wicked smile playing across his mouth. Oh, shit, Reg was in that kind of mood.  

“That had better not mean what I think it means or else you’ll be getting the bleach out,” Barty growled at him. He was not prepared for Regulus to turn the tables so quickly. Regulus ran a hand teasingly down James’s arm. James seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face.  

“The acoustics in there are amazing, the way our moans bounced around us, oh it was delightful, made it even better.” Regulus bit his lip, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he shut them. 

“Out, get out!” Barty cried, his chair scraping across the floor when he stood and pointed at the door. Evan grabbed his collar and yanked him back down.

“They didn’t do anything, so stop your grousing and finish your coffee,” Evan told him. “Besides, we’ve done unspeakable things in that shower and Regulus isn’t complaining.” Regulus choked at Evans's words and Barty saw an opening. He grinned a toothy grin at his friend. 

“Well, not that unspeakable. Remember that morning when we…” Regulus downed his drink and grabbed James’s hand. 

“Quick, he will describe whatever it is in explicit detail,” Regulus warned, glowering at Barty. James winked at them and let Regulus drag him from the room. 

“Thanks for breakfast lads, it was lovely meeting you,” He called back to them before the front door slammed. 

“What’s all the noise?” A sleepy Pandora said as she glided into the room and picked up the last bacon sandwich off the side. 

“You don’t want to know, Panda,” Evan laughed, pouring her a coffee and settling back down to finish his own. 

Next part

[footballerimaginess]

Spiders

Footballer Imaginess Does Halloween Pablo Gavi Word Count: 388 You and Pablo were having a cosy autumn evening, the weather was starting to become a little chilly. This was one of your favourite time of the year.

"This is so cosy" you muttered as you had just finished putting the autumnal scented candles on which smelt just like a pumpkin spice latte which was lovely. "It is, but that candle is not nice" you gasp out loud as Pablo disrespected the candle. "Well shall i get the other one out and let you smell them if you don't like it?" you ask as you opened up the cupboard where the candles were stored. As Pablo got up and opened the cupboard where Pablo jumped backwards as he screamed. "What's wrong?" you asked him as he pointed straight into the cupboard. "That must be the biggest spider I have ever seen in my fucking life, no that is disgusting" Pablo squealed as he slammed the cupboard shut and ran back to the sofa. "So not getting a candle out?" you asked as he rolled his eyes straight at you. "No I am not going in that cupboard, that was huge. It probably will multiply by the time you open that cupboard again. Keep it shut forever" Pablo folded his arms across his chest. "Nooo I want my candle on, shall I be big and brave and get rid of it for you?" you asked as you let out a giggle. Having never seen Pablo scared of anything before, you knew that a spider prank was coming out soon just to piss of Pablo. "Well don't think I will be helping you when that spider bites you because I am never opening that cupboard ever again" Pablo moaned. "Fine, you do that but you know there is one right behind you" you laughed as you watched him squeal as he jumped straight out of his chair and ran around as he watched around him. "I. Hate. You." he said through gritted teeth as he dramatically clutched his chest tight. "You are so easy to annoy its hilarious Pablo, now stop being a scaredy cat and let's finish watching a movie" you sat back down on the sofa as you watched Pablo still looking on edge about all the spiders. "Fineeeeeee" Pablo huffed as he sat down on the sofa.

[delulu4marauders]

my sweet werewolf <33

y/n potter x remus lupin

summary: y/n was the only person remus could trust seeing him as a werewolf..

note: female!character, y/n potter ( james’ younger sister )

from the author: hey everyone! juliana here, this is my first time writing a real fanfiction so please don't judge!! i'm pretty bad at writing but i can’t help but make my own fanfiction!! i want to say thanks to everyone who liked the summary i posted, seeing all the likes on it made me so happy!! i’m still unsure about how i’m going to organize these, but i’ll make a way. comment if you want a part two and also comment any ideas for part 2?? btw sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes but lowercases in unnecessary places are intended. also it's 2 days until school starts again for me, so i may not post for a while but i will make time to write for all you guys who enjoy my story! tysm and i hope you enjoy!

word count: 3k

♡♡♡

          it was a clear, rainy day at hogwarts. the sound of the gryffindor common room fireplace crackling and the quiet chatting of the other students made the common room feel like home. y/n was reading a book on a sofa in the corner of the common room, quietly enjoying her book while sipping on her pumpkin spice latte. the spooky season was coming, and hogwarts felt like the perfect place to be during halloween. just as y/n took another sip of her latte, a tall dark figure stood over her. it was her brother, james potter. 

          “what do you want?” y/n shrugged

          “hey! don’t be so crabby! i just want to come check on my younger sister” james explained

          “whatever” y/n rolled her eyes, flicking the page of her book

          “jeez..” james said under his breath, sitting down next to y/n “you going down to the great hall for dinner?” 

          “yeah.. how’s sirius and remus?” y/n asked sweetly, shutting her book

          “they’re fine, but remus is- you know.. having trouble..” james worried           “damn. poor remus..” y/n whispered

          y/n and james walked down the halls of hogwarts amongst the other students who were running down to the great hall. they sat down at the gryffindor table with sirius, who was chugging down pumpkin juice, lily, who was politely eating her dinner and making disgusted faces at sirius, and remus. remus’ face had a lot of scars from the past few full moons. when he smelt her bubblegum scented perfume, his head immediately perked up. there she was, his best friend. y/n and james sat down at the table, james directly started chatting up sirius and flirting with lily. y/n and remus sat there for a few minutes, eating their food. suddenly, y/n spoke up.

          “remmy?” y/n sweetly but calmly said

          “hmm..?” 

          “when’s the next.. you know..” 

          “two days..” he muttered

          “oh.. is there anything i can get for you?” y/n suggested

          “no.. it’s fine..” he sighed deeply

          “alright.. but if there’s anything you need-” y/n got cut off by remus

          “i know.. just go to you first. honestly, y/n. you tell me every time! i don’t need to be reminded, you know that?” 

          “okay.. i’m just worried for you. every time you come down to breakfast with fresh scars and-” 

          “i’m going to be fine, y/n. stop stressing” he slumped his shoulders down while talking

          y/n was walking down the hallways alone to her next class. potions. not only did she really like the thought of brewing potions, her favourite professor was teaching that subject. professor slughorn. he was a super chill, laid-back teacher and wasn’t as strict as all the other teachers. she entered the classroom and saw everyone already standing at the tables. she goes to stand next to james and remus. 

          “hey” words mindlessly came out her mouth

          “shh, the lesson’s starting” remus whispered. 

          remus was the type of student to enjoy classes and have good grades so him telling her to shush didn’t matter. this time in class they were brewing amortentia. y/n read her potions book and read all the ingredients she needed, found them on the shelves and added them to her cauldron. 

          ashwinder eggs… 

 rose thorns.. 

peppermint.. 

powdered moonstone.. 

pearl dust.. 

and rose petals..

          “miss potter” prof. slughorn said “what - does your amortentia smell like?” 

          y/n smelt her amortentia. she smelt baby powder.. gingerbread.. melted chocolate.. and a new book. these smells together was familiar… something she was used to but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

          “i smell.. gingerbread, chocolate, baby powder.. and a new book..” y/n listed slowly, trying to remember who owned the scent in her love potion. 

          the next day, y/n was peacefully studying in the library. she was just finishing up her transfiguration essay when she saw a shadow of a boy. she looked behind her and saw remus. usually when someone interrupts her study sessions, she gets really pissed but since it was going to be a full moon that night, she didn’t mind. 

          “hey remmy, you all good?” 

          “yeah.. i’ve been thinking.. you know how you said if i needed anything for the full moon i could go to you?” remus explained fast. y/n nodded. “well.. i- i.. i want you to stay with me while i’m a werewolf..” 

          “uh- are you sure??” y/n asked uncomfortably. remus nodded. y/n thought for a while. should she risk her life to help her best friend? she did promise him she would do anything… “sure.” y/n finally decided. 

          “really?” remus said. he hugged y/n “thank you y/n! thank you so much!! this means the world to me!!”

          this hug was different. y/n and remus always hug, but this hug was not a normal hug. he was closing his eyes, smiling, his arms weren’t stiff and it just felt more - from the heart.. 

          later on that evening, y/n got dressed into her pyjamas and went to the common room to check on james, sirius and peter, who were remus’ dorm mates but slept in the common room whenever it was a full moon. 

          “hey guys, how you doing?” y/n said, walking down the girls dormitory stairs and stopping at the doorway. they were playing uno and of course, peter had the most cards with sirius down to one card. 

          “we’re fine, aren’t you staying with remus for the night?” sirius said, still focused on the very professional game.

          “yeah, wish me luck. i hope i don’t get eaten.” y/n said playfully, half joking and half truthful.

          “if he does, i’m going to beat the crap out of him.” james said, overprotective for his younger sister

          “james, i’ll be fine. since i’m sleeping in your dorm, can i sleep in your bed?” y/n asked. back at the potter manor, they switch rooms all the time. 

          “alright, sleep tight lil’ sis” james said, picking up 4 cards from the pick-up-pile since peter placed down a ‘plus 4’ card. 

          y/n walked up the boys dormitory stairs and around the corner to remus’ dorm. she checked a clock nearby. it was 8:47, thirteen minutes to lights out and thirteen minutes until remus turns into a werewolf. she knocked on the door. shirtless remus opened. Once y/n saw this, she immediately blushed. 

          “oh- uhm.. hi, remus” y/n said, staring at the floor to avoid the awkwardness. 

remus noticed what made her feel uncomfortable. he quickly threw a shirt on. 

          “crepes. sorry about that… do come in..” remus said, embarrassed. remus never really swore, so she was used to him saying words instead of the real swear word. y/n walked into the dorm. she saw that they had moved james and peter’s beds against the wall to make space in the middle of the room. 

          “wow. so how much longer?” y/n turned around to face him

          “well.. It’s 9:51, so nine more minutes.” remus said, checking an old, grandfather clock in the back of their dorm. remus took his shirt off again and saw y/n blushing.

          “sorry. it’s the only way i don’t rip my shirts apart.” remus explained. she could hear the sincerity in his voice. 

          “it’s alright remmy.. are you sure you want me to stay?” y/n said sweetly

          “yes please.. so when i turn into a werewolf, which is in.. four minutes, i’m gonna need you to hide behind sirius’ bed. and if i dont talk for five minutes, get out your wand and yell sectumsempra at me, okay?” remus inquired. 

          “sectumsempra? but doesn’t that injure people?” y/n wondered in worry

          “injures people, not werewolves. if i haven’t talked five minutes after i turned into a werewolf, it means the transformation didn’t work well and- nevermind, if it happens, just do it.” remus said seriously. y/n nodded. while waiting, they just chilled together on remus’ bed talking about school and their friends. 

          tick.. tick.. tick.. the clock hit 9:00. remus was sitting in the middle of the room and y/n behind sirius’ bed, clutching her wand just in case. she watched as he turned into a werewolf, which was not glamorous. 2 minutes after he finished transforming, y/n was waiting for him to talk. she really did not wish to use the curse. 

          “y/n?” a deep voice said suddenly

          “remmy? is that - you?” y/n wondered aloud, coming out from behind the bed

          “yeah, i’m not going crazy like usual” remus’ new deep voice stated

          “really? did you take anything?” y/n said, sitting on sirius’ dog hair bed.

          “well, my aunt gave me this thing called a wolfsbane potion that’s supposed to not turn me into a werewolf.. but she said the first time i try it i should mix it with like- pumpkin juice or water or something…” remus explained

          “well that helps..” y/n says

          down in the common room, james, peter and sirius were still playing uno. sirius lay down on his sleeping bag expecting there to be a pillow but of course, reality is always different from your expectation. 

          “crap, i forgot my pillow. do you think i should go up and get my pillow?” sirius suggests.

          “well, if the other gryffindor boys aren’t screaming then it’s probably safe.” peter teased. 

          sirius tip-toed up the stairs and quietly opened the dorm room door. he walked into the room, expecting to see a lot of damage in the room. but instead, everything looked normal. sirius scanned around the room for the grey wolf but it was nowhere in sight. sirius walked to his bed to grab his pillow and in the bed across from him, was remus in wolf form, laying on his bed. but he wasn’t alone. y/n was there too, they were in the ‘little spoon big spoon’ cuddling position with remus’ long, fluffy wolf tail wrapped around y/n’s legs tucking her in a sweet embrace. sirius was in complete shock. no one had ever seen remus in this state during a full moon transformation. sirius decided to shrug this feeling off, grabbed his pillow and walked back downstairs to the common room. 

          the beautiful, morning sun shone down on y/n, waking her up. she opened her eyes to see remus’ hard, shirtless and human chest. she looked up at remus’ face. he was already awake, reading a book. she was confused, she didn’t remember sleeping in remus’ bed. and especially with him. 

          “remmy?” y/n yawned

          “morning y/n” remus whispered sweetly

          “why am i in your bed?” she said, sitting up and leaning on the head board

          “you said that you would sleep in james’ bed but it was full of his dirty laundry, sirius’ bed had a lot of dog hair and you just didn’t want to sleep in peter’s bed so i let you sleep in mine.” remus explained

          “with you?” 

          “oh, i was sleeping on the floor but in the middle of the night i heard people talking so i got in bed too” remus said

          “oh.. okay..” 

          “y’know, you’re really cute when you’re asleep” remus teased

          “shut up! i probably snored all night!” y/n muttered

          “you didn’t, you were really peaceful” 

          “whatever” y/n rolled her eyes, leaning on remus’ shoulder to see what he was reading. it was a book on the wolfsbane potion. “oh, that potion.”

          “yeah, it really helped me last night. if i hadn’t taken it, you’d be dead by now” remus chuckled, half joking and half truthful. y/n laughed along too. 

          james, sirius and peter came walking into the dorm to put away their sleeping bags and pillows. 

          “had a good sleep?” sirius said, walking over to his bed. james stopped and stared as soon as he entered the doorway.

          “why the f**k are you two in the same bed?” james snapped

          “it’s not what it looks like, we’re best friends, james” y/n says, insulted by what her brother thought she was doing. she got out of remus’ bed and leaned against the bedpost.  “plus, your bed smells horrible! smells worse than when i use the toilet after you at home!” y/n teased

          “shut up!” james said, embarrassed. y/n and sirius laughed. 

          “so, hogsmeade weekend! you guys going?” peter asked, plopping himself down on his bed. 

          “of course! can’t pass up the chance to go buy lollies! probably even steal some too! you up for it pads?” james asked

          “duh!” sirius playfully added

          “well i better get dressed, meet in the common room?” y/n asked. the marauders nodded and waved y/n goodbye as she walked out of the dorm room.

          after she got dressed, she waited in the common room along with lily and marlene. lily and marlene were fangirling over their halloween costumes while y/n was reading a book on potions. the marauders came walking down the stairs from the boys dormitories. the first thing she noticed was james and sirius, doing idiotic stuff like always, so she just rolled her eyes. behind them was remus, wearing his chaotic academia clothes like always. y/n got up and walked towards him. 

          “that sweater is adorable remmy!!” y/n exclaimed. remus slightly blushed.

          “oh.. thanks y/n..” remus said, flustered. 

          “no worries! should we go now?” y/n suggested. remus nodded softly.

          they arrived at hogsmeade, they could see the three broomsticks, zonkos joke shop and honeydukes were decorated ready for halloween. they saw james, sirius and peter run into the three broomsticks and lily and marlene ran into a new thrift store. it was just remus and y/n. 

          “where do you wanna go?” y/n asked remus

          “there’s a new crystal shop i’d like to visit..” remus uttered softly

          “okay!” y/n said sweetly, grabbing remus’ hand and gently jogging to the crystal shop he was talking about. 

          they stopped at a clean shop with a big sign above the entrance that said ‘crystal clear’. y/n knew how much remus liked crystals, especially sparkly ones. on holidays james would visit remus at his house and y/n would tag along. back at remus’ house, he has a whole display cabinet for his crystals. they walked into the store, still hand in hand. y/n looked at remus’ face, which was happier than she had seen in a while. he let go of her hand to look at some cat - shaped crystals. she could tell by the expression on his face that he was in awe. like the feeling when you walk into a shop where they have all the things you love. y/n herself was looking around at the crystals. she saw a wolf - shaped crystal. it was so pretty and it captured the beauty of a real wolf. it reminded her of remus, and the night she spent with him in his wolf form. a tingly feeling crossed her heart. she thought.. was this feeling.. love? no, it couldn’t be, he was her best friend. she went to the counter, where remus had 6 crystals laid on the counter. 

          “i can buy that for you if you want” remus said, digging through his pockets.

          “oh.. it’s okay, you don’t need to” y/n smiled

          “please? i owe you, you could have died last night.” remus pleaded. y/n placed the wolf - shaped crystal on the counter along with his crystals replying ‘finee’. 

          they were chilling under a tree, eating lollies from honeydukes, chatting and laughing together. gummies, lollipops, bertie bots every flavour beans, chocolate frogs, the list goes on and on. 

          “why did you get a wolf crystal?” remus suddenly questioned

          “because it reminds me of my best friend” she half-lied. it did remind her of her best friend, but it also reminded her of her tiny crush on him. but she thought it was too cringy to say, and too risky as well. remus laughed.

          “same reason i got this” remus chuckled, reaching into his hand-painted tote-bag and pulls out a pink, transparent heart crystal. “reminds me of you because you look really good in pink and your heart is nice and kind.. also because… i kinda like you..” remus’ face went pink. he stared at the ground to avoid embarrassment.

          “remmy..” y/n breathed “i keep on trying to deny this feeling too..” 

          “y/n, we’re best friends, and we’re extremely close.. do you.. maybe wanna be my girlfriend?” remus asked shyly. y/n’s smile grew wide but didn’t want to be awkward. she quickly thought of how to say ‘yes’ without over - doing it. 

          “i’d love to be your girlfriend remmy!” she said, trying to contain her smile.

          that starry night, the marauders all met in the three broomsticks to have some butterbeer or pumpkin juice together. remus and y/n decided not to tell them just yet, after all, they’d only been dating for a few hours. sirius and peter were laughing at embarrassed james who was drinking his butterbeer, ashamed of himself.

          “hey! why are you laughing at james?” y/n asked

          “he tried to ask lily out but got rejected in front of all her friends” sirius teased

          “the poor guy, don’t laugh at him” remus said

          “yeah guys! don’t laugh! it’s not funny!” james said, staring at the floor

          “you guys are just jealous ‘cause you don’t have anyone to ask out” y/n snapped. sirius and peter stopped laughing. 

          “and what about you, still single always reading your stupid book in the corner of the common room every night” sirius replied back.

          “at least i’m doing something useful, you probably just stay in your dorm isolating yourself from everyone else!” y/n teased. remus spoke up.

          “plus, pads, she’s not single” remus proudly added

          “oh yeah? who’s she dating then moony?” sirius said, not expecting an answer

          “me” 

that word caused silence around the table. y/n’s face went pink and she drank her butterbeer. 

          “really?” james said in a fangirling voice. remus nodded proudly.

          “well.. i stand corrected, congrats guys” sirius muttered, embarrassed that he was wrong. he was used to being right all the time. 

          “oh shut up sirius, you’re just jealous because no one likes you” y/n bragged playfully. sirius rolled his eyes. 

          “whatever” he shrugged his shoulders.

[casiavium]

Posting my AU day fic for Ghiralink week a couple hours early because I'm bored!!

You can also read it on ao3

Link first sees him when he's unloading baked goods from the delivery truck out back. A tall man dressed in pants with more rip than jean is leaning against the alley wall, smoking some sweet scented thing though it's barely 6:30 in the morning.

Link is carrying a rather heavy crate of bread when the man notices him, blowing a long stream of cotton candy breath without breaking eye contact. Weirded out, Link sets the bread down, and goes back to the car.

The building next to them is vacant, so Link is used to seeing roughed up teens hanging out, usually when the sun is down. He usually closes, so this morning shift is new to him.

The man looked different from the typical angsty high schooler spray painting the walls and smoking pot to get back at the system, and Link clocks him as trouble. He's his age, if not older, and probably their dealer. He makes a note to bring him up to management, though he knows they won't do anything. He has half a mind to get Zelda to help him, just to have another person there, but she's busy getting ready for the morning rush.

Link has moved onto the pastries when he is startled by the man in white jeans. He's leaning against the truck now, and up close, looks stranger than before. Pure white hair, bold makeup, shaven brows. Link almost drops his box, but gathers himself before it's too late.

The man clears his throat. Link ignores him.

On the way back to the truck, he stands in Link's path so he can't avoid him.

"Do you work here?" He gestures to the small building behind them, and Link nods. The man's face turns into a disgusted sneer. "How... quaint."

Flipping his asymmetrical hair, he doesn't get the hint that Link is busy. "How long have you been working here?"

Frowning, Link has to set down the pallet to hold up 5 fingers.

"Days? Years? Weeks?"

He nods at weeks.

"Don't get used to it." Ghirahim scoffs, and at Link's confused look, jingles keys in his face.

Prancing back to the abandoned building, the man ducks into the door with a satisfied wave, pointing at the insignia of a popular coffee corporation on the door.

Damn.

Link makes a mental note not to leave the building alone anymore.

The coffee company opens within a week. He knows the state of the building, and knows there had to have been some OSHA violations to get it up and running so fast. But the coffee company is a megacorp, and they can do whatever they want. Link occasionally sees the white haired man in the window, usually behind the counter, sometimes at a table with a laptop open in front of him and papers strewn about. He doesn't enter.

Once or twice he's seen him pass the mom-and-pop coffee shop Link works in, stopping to glance in the window. He's made eye contact a few times, but nothing more.

It's another week before the door rings to signal a new customer, and the white haired man walks up to the register while Link's on shift.

"Pleasure to meet you again..." He glances at the smeared name tag. "Rin. Strange name."

Link almost laughs. The man makes a show of reading the menu, belittling their minuscule choices compared to the chain next door, critiquing the handwritten down-on-the-farm chalkboard style. Finally, after a long sigh and a comment on how confusing it all is, he asks,

"What would you recommend?"

Were a friend to ask Link, he'd say a hot apple cider with three pumps of pumpkin spice, whipped cream and cinnamon on top. Given that this is not, he points to their drink of the week taped to the register, which just so happens to be their most expensive. In Link's opinion, this week's is atrocious.

The man's lip curls when he reads the cutesy name, but he agrees anyway. Link holds a pen to the cup, clearly asking for a name.

The man raises a blank brow, still leaning on the counter. There's a line now. "Don't talk much, do you?"

Link stares.

"Ghirahim." He sighs, straightening his posture. "G H I R A-him. Spell it right."

He adds a shrug as he leaves. "Or not. I'm not fussy."

Link passes the cup to Zelda and takes the next order.

A flurry of customers go by, but Link is sure to be "busy" washing the blender when his coworker has made Ghirahim's drink. She has it at the bar, pauses, and squints at Link's bad handwriting.

"Drink of the week for... Gary Ham?"

Link watches smugly as Ghirahim snatches the hot coffee, storming out of the shop with a huff.

Link can no longer hide behind a messy nametag when the owner Pumm decides they all need to look more professional. "Link" is printed clearly and legibly in stark black ink against a white background, pinned to the top of his apron where everyone can see.

Ghirahim avoids coming into the coffee shop, but Link sees him outside the window occasionally. He always glares at him when he notices.

He's with a group of people when he visits them next, his nasally whine loudly ringing through the room that they "could just go next door, he gets a discount there." A tall woman with hair as white as his waves his complaints off, saying she likes the taste better here and he doesn't share anyway.

Ghirahim's the last to order. Link almost makes Kina take it this time, but she's already busy with the drinks and Ghirahim's already seen him. He smirks at Link's little glare, and leans against the counter.

"Nice to see you again, sweetheart." He mocks, but his eyes glance down at the nametag. His face freezes when he sees the name is not Rin, and for a moment, Link wonders if he can pull off the evil twin act.

However, the chance that both twins have a brain that doesn't connect to their vocal cords is low, and Ghirahim rolls his eyes.

"So it's Link." He draws out the 'k', and it's kind of nice the way it rolls off his tongue. "You just have the handwriting of a toddler."

Link is pissed. This time, before Ghirahim can order, he grabs a cup without writing a name. Ghirahim squawks a protest over the sound of mid-tier pop music, his friends teasing him in the background. Link throws some sugary syrup into a cup, giving him what appears to be a glass of straight milk when he's done.

Kina's on the third friend's drink, who makes a snide remark about the service if Ghirahim's getting his first. A battle for dominance, Ghirahim walks to the counter to take it from Link's hand.

He doesn't let go.

From behind his back he pulls out the worst flavor they have, cherry syrup that tastes like cough medicine, and pours it over the top of his mocha-less white mocha. Ghirahim glances down at the red collating in the sugary monstrosity, barely holding together his disgust.

On the house Link seems to say with a smile and a tilt of his head.

Ghirahim snarls and takes the cup.

Just Link's luck, the friend group snags a table and stays there for a while. Ghirahim ignores him, but Link pays attention as he mulls over the slow coffee chit-chat, occasionally sparing him a glance to take a long sip when he knows Link's watching. It can't be good, the number of unappealing things Link put in there, but Ghirahim drains the whole glass.

As he leaves, he licks a drop of the cherry syrup from his finger, sending a smirk and a wink in Link's direction.

Against his better judgement, Link is the one to make the next move in their game of chess. He visits the megacorp coffee shop two weeks later, walking through the front door without looking back.

Ghirahim isn't there. Link isn't sure what his plan was now that he's at the register and can't speak, a bitchy barista telling him to hurry up as he frantically scribbles something on a pad. Someone is waiting behind him. He can't find his wallet. He fumbles the pen, plastic falling from his fingers, and is on the verge of panic when it slides under the counter.

"I'll take this one."

Link snaps up from crawling on the floor to see Ghirahim's hand on the shoulder of the other, gesturing with his eyes for Link to leave the line and wait at the counter. A hot flush floods his cheeks, and Link shrinks back.

Link doesn't see what all Ghirahim is making. He watches matcha powder get placed back on the shelf, hears the clink of ice, and then the man disappears behind a swinging door for a second. When he comes back, it's with a self absorbed smirk.

"Here." He slides a bright green drink across the bar, the sides ringed with threads of red syrup. Link's eyes widen. "Much better than what you gave me, I'll say."

Link takes the drink, eyes cast away. With a fluid motion he moves an open palm from his chin to out in front of him, and hurries away.

Thank you.

He doesn't know if Ghirahim understands.

The next time Ghirahim visits, Link is working alone. It's closing, and Pipit is taking the trash out that night. He doesn't expect any customers that late on a Tuesday, not even a stray college student pulling an all-nighter.

He's slacking off behind the counter, watching videos on his phone, when the bell rings. Nearly falling from his chair, he gasps when he sees white hair and tight clothes, a splash of purple makeup on a pale face.

Immediately, he gets to work.

The espresso machine has been cleaned and shut down, but Link fires it up anyway. This time, he takes his time pouring the syrup around the edge of the cup, mixing the white chocolate powder until it's smooth and creamy. He gives him oat milk, though they're supposed to charge extra (and he's not charging him at all), and tops it off with whipped cream.

Link makes a second of eye contact before grabbing a pen. Something possesses him this time. He writes his number on the cup, and the first words he's ever "spoken" to Ghirahim. Leaving the drink on the bar, he scurries behind a curtain to finish his closing duties.

From behind the fabric he peeks out, Link watches as Ghirahim's mouth quirks into a smirk when he reads his messy writing. He pulls out his phone, types something in, and walks out of the coffee shop without a word.

Link's phone buzzes.

"I can give you something other than coffee to keep you up all night. Call me."

You couldn't have thought of a better pick up line?

[adelaidedrubman]

FAR CRY 5 CHARACTER AESTHETIC

tagged by @florbelles and @strafethesesinners for (and saw @deputyash helped created) this far cry 5 based aesthetic game, thank you!! doing the main girlies, and sending tags out to @henbased @ishwaris @blackreaches @derelictheretic @schoute @shallow-gravy @belorage @heroofpenamstan @stacispratt @starsandskies @snake-in-the-garden @bluemojave @josephslittledeputy @harmonyowl @beautiful-delirium @multiverse-of-themind @socially-awkward-skeleton @nuclearstorms and whoever else wants to play, brain mush!

HOLLAND VALLEY

red, gold, and orange leaves against a clear blue sky // rows of apple trees in an orchard // pick your own pumpkin patches // baskets of puppies // a sleeping fawn hidden away from predators // pumpkin spice // the bite of apple cider [spiked, bourbon] // a harvest festival // the faint smell of a bonfire on the wind // the slight unease of getting lost in a corn maze [she’s never lost] // a hint of fall in the air when it’s still warm // golden sunsets // leaves just beginning to turn from green to orange // the rumble of a tractor // the buzz of an airplane flying low overhead [derogatory, detested] // golden wheat swaying in the wind // the smell of gasoline [beloved] // sprawling river deltas // crystal clear water // an old wooden dresser // family heirlooms [she stomps them dead] // jingling keys // crimson blood // dark ink on parchment // the sting of a bruise // the warmth of a grand fireplace // gunmetal // work boots in the mud // cattails // the harsh cry of crows // the faint musty smell of taxidermy animals [disgusting freak shit. get rid of it. (fails to get rid of it. names it.] // farm animals making a racket // open air farmers markets [top ten places for her to be normal while acquiring dirt ipas.] // catching your clothes on a barbed wire fence // a fresh breeze through an open window // white rocking chairs // old farmhouses // scarecrows // wild westerly winds // the barely contained excitement for the approach of autumn

WHITETAIL MOUNTAINS

fishing at dawn [goal waking time] // the smell of woodsmoke clinging to your clothes and hair // wolfsong // locking eyes with another predator // a night that falls faster than expected // the crisp hint of snow in the air // log cabins // the scent of evergreen trees // stone fireplaces // a well worn camouflage jacket [not her kind of jacket] // old field guide books // the smell of a cigarette still lingering on your hands // lager // the roar of whitewater rapids // cool dark caves // the rough wood of an antique gun // the scent of iron // woodland paths criss crossed by gnarled tree roots // a haze of dust from a recent rockslide // losing your breath as you wade into an icy river // winding mountain roads // an eagle’s cry // the bright red flash of a foxes tail at the corner of your eye // the patter of rain on dead leaves // petrichor // seeing your breath in the cold morning air // the click of a projector // the jangling of a chain link fence // gunpowder // the sizzling of a grill // burnt hair // the grand lobby of a lodge // gravel crunching underfoot // the cry of blue jays // information boards // brochures piled on a table // cold metal bars // the sour smell of a lumber mill // the rough texture of scouting achievement badges [constantly joined and kicked out of girl scouts] // muffled oldies music from another room // sharpening a hunting knife // blood red leaves blooming from bone white birch trees // red bleeding into the edges of your vision

HENBANE RIVER

cloying floral scents // the thick mist that gathers near the ground at dawn // dewdrops sparkling on spiderwebs // the almost too intense morning sun // unseasonable warmth // birdsong // honeyed wine // walking barefoot in the cool grass [the combat boots stay on during ] // the clanging of a jail cell door // spying hazy figures of animals in the fog // lemon balm and lavender // the low growl of a wildcat that you can’t see (but it sees you) // choking clouds of pollen settling on cars like snow // vineyards // faint humming and singing from an unidentifiable source // juniper berries // feeling uncomfortably hot in overly formal clothes // lace // burning incense // frogs in the reeds // soft brunette tresses // long winding rivers // mesmerizing music [is dolly mesmerizing?] // glistening trout // the sweet nectar of honeysuckle flowers [top ten things she hates now, thanks] // rumbling of truck motors // glass beakers // bundles of dried flowers [not those fucking flowers] // wind chimes tinkling // rough concrete bricks // tumbling barrels // the ringing of a vintage phone // sweet words [spoken with sarcasm, allegedly] // broken promises [samson? she’s heard of him] // moonflower and datura // the smell of freshly cut grass // the faint sound of children laughing

JOSEPH’S COMPOUND

babbling brooks // humming // whistling // dogs barking // grand oak trees // the faint sound of hymns // a crate of ripe peaches // melted wax candles // the smell of fresh newspaper clippings // caged birds singing [more like complaining loudly] // a warm embrace // wrought iron arches // flames reaching for the sky // gentle voices murmuring // your feet sliding in thick mud // pouring rain // vape smoke // the slight scent of sweat // ink on skin // the smell of wooden church pews // the rustle of hymnals // old book smell // slight hint of ozone from old electronics // bradford pear petals floating on the breeze

DUTCH’S ISLAND

HOLLAND VALLEY

creaking metal hinges // the crackle of a radio // the scratch of an old record player // the smell of antiseptic [try not to get a stiffy from it, freak] // the flickering light of a projector // the feel of pushing pins into cork board // echoing footsteps // shelves stacked with canned food and mason jars // dark shadowy figures on the edge of your vision [sleep paralysis demons her best friends sleep paralysis demons] // gleaming metal badges // a table of bullet shell casings // vertigo from standing on swaying radio towers [she likes heights, dislikes falling] // the sound of shattering glass // whistling pipes // suffocating heat // the chatter of squirrels // faint scent of mothballs // the sputter of a boat engine // the high electronic whine of an old television turning on // the sound of distant gunfire

red, gold, and orange leaves against a clear blue sky // rows of apple trees in an orchard // pick your own pumpkin patches // baskets of puppies // a sleeping fawn hidden away from predators // pumpkin spice // the bite of apple cider [her own blend] // a harvest festival // the faint smell of a bonfire on the wind // the slight unease of getting lost in a corn maze [what do you mean? what is there to be uneasy about?] // a hint of fall in the air when it’s still warm // golden sunsets [beloved, but she prefers sunrises] // leaves just beginning to turn from green to orange // the rumble of a tractor // the buzz of an airplane flying low overhead [no spraying pesticides that couldn’t be easily administered underground for her plants, thanks] // golden wheat swaying in the wind // the smell of gasoline // sprawling river deltas // crystal clear water // an old wooden dresser // family heirlooms // jingling keys [to her lab drawers] // crimson blood [samples in test tubes, never on her] // dark ink on parchment // the sting of a bruise // the warmth of a grand fireplace // gunmetal // work boots in the mud // cattails // the harsh cry of crows // the faint musty smell of taxidermy animals [swap for: the formaldehyde stench of lab specimens] // farm animals making a racket // open air farmers markets // catching your clothes on a barbed wire fence // a fresh breeze through an open window // white rocking chairs // old farmhouses // scarecrows // wild westerly winds // the barely contained excitement for the approach of autumn

WHITETAIL MOUNTAINS

fishing at dawn // the smell of woodsmoke clinging to your clothes and hair [a distinctly chemical smoke, but it does cling] // wolfsong // locking eyes with another predator [she disputes the binary, but she does make eye contact] // a night that falls faster than expected // the crisp hint of snow in the air // log cabins // the scent of evergreen trees // stone fireplaces // a well worn camouflage jacket // old field guide books // the smell of a cigarette still lingering on your hands // lager // the roar of whitewater rapids // cool dark caves // the rough wood of an antique gun // the scent of iron [crucible tongs] // woodland paths criss crossed by gnarled tree roots // a haze of dust from a recent rockslide // losing your breath as you wade into an icy river // winding mountain roads // an eagle’s cry // the bright red flash of a foxes tail at the corner of your eye // the patter of rain on dead leaves // petrichor // seeing your breath in the cold morning air // the click of a projector // the jangling of a chain link fence // gunpowder // the sizzling of a grill // burnt hair [not hers, wouldn’t happen if people listened to her lab safety rules] // the grand lobby of a lodge // gravel crunching underfoot // the cry of blue jays // information boards // brochures piled on a table // cold metal bars // the sour smell of a lumber mill // the rough texture of scouting achievement badges // muffled oldies music from another room // sharpening a hunting knife [better a scalpel] // blood red leaves blooming from bone white birch trees // red bleeding into the edges of your vision

HENBANE RIVER

JOSEPH’S COMPOUND

cloying floral scents // the thick mist that gathers near the ground at dawn // dewdrops sparkling on spiderwebs // the almost too intense morning sun // unseasonable warmth // birdsong // honeyed wine // walking barefoot in the cool grass [do you want lyme disease?] // the clanging of a jail cell door // spying hazy figures of animals in the fog // lemon balm and lavender // the low growl of a wildcat that you can’t see (but it sees you) // choking clouds of pollen settling on cars like snow // vineyards // faint humming and singing from an unidentifiable source [she knows the source] // juniper berries // feeling uncomfortably hot in overly formal clothes [yes, the lab coat gets hot] // lace // burning incense // frogs in the reeds // soft brunette tresses // long winding rivers // mesmerizing music [her bubblegum pop, she would classify] // glistening trout // the sweet nectar of honeysuckle flowers // rumbling of truck motors // glass beakers // bundles of dried flowers // wind chimes tinkling // rough concrete bricks // tumbling barrels // the ringing of a vintage phone // sweet words // broken promises [rip to her grad school enrollment] // moonflower and datura // the smell of freshly cut grass // the faint sound of children laughing

babbling brooks // humming // whistling // dogs barking // grand oak trees // the faint sound of hymns // a crate of ripe peaches // melted wax candles // the smell of fresh newspaper clippings // caged birds singing // a warm embrace // wrought iron arches // flames reaching for the sky // gentle voices murmuring // your feet sliding in thick mud [put on fucking shoes] // pouring rain // vape smoke // the slight scent of sweat // ink on skin // the smell of wooden church pews // the rustle of hymnals // old book smell // slight hint of ozone from old electronics // bradford pear petals floating on the breeze

DUTCH’S ISLAND

creaking metal hinges // the crackle of a radio // the scratch of an old record player // the smell of antiseptic // the flickering light of a projector // the feel of pushing pins into cork board // echoing footsteps // shelves stacked with canned food and mason jars // dark shadowy figures on the edge of your vision // gleaming metal badges [her name tag means nothing here] // a table of bullet shell casings // vertigo from standing on swaying radio towers // the sound of shattering glass [please don’t break her labwear] // whistling pipes // suffocating heat // the chatter of squirrels // faint scent of mothballs // the sputter of a boat engine // the high electronic whine of an old television turning on // the sound of distant gunfire

[laylab2cool]

The Chef’s Granddaughter 🍎

When you’re the chef's granddaughter, it's expected that you will be her own, personal, taste-tester. She’ll hand you a spoon of buttery mashed potatoes, watch you take a mouthful, and listen to what you have to say about it. And usually you’ll say nothing, because her mashed potatoes are always delicious.

Then, she’ll put the mashed potatoes on a plate for you with chicken, peas, and a biscuit. And you’ll eat it, because her mashed potatoes are always delicious.

And, when she’s done putting food on the plate, she’ll put the mashed potatoes in a plastic container in the fridge, along with the leftover chicken and peas. And it will stay there.

Then, around midnight, you’ll find yourself upset about all the world's complications it has given you. So you’ll cry. And you’ll wonder why everything feels so small, like you don’t matter, but the sight of you is enough to make you cry. And you’ll wonder why your hair is so damaged, and your nails are all chipped. You’ll wonder why you can't accept yourself for the way your body pours into your clothes, and sticks out in all the wrong places. You’ll stare into a mirror and watch as the person you’ve known longer than anybody slowly fades away. Now you feel your face being masked with tears as you’re making your way to the fridge, in the middle of night, after supper.

And then, you’ll eat.

You’ll eat every teaspoon of mash potato, every piece of chicken, every last pea, and the very last biscuit.

And then you’re full in your stomach.

But you’re still empty in your heart.

So you keep eating. Downing bottles of lime soda, and anything that would make you feel better. You rummage through the pantry in search of anything that will numb a feeling you don't recognize. Because food is not your friend. It's your enemy now.

You go to bed and wake up the next morning in sickness. Your stomach hurts, but even more your mind, for the way you had treated yourself. You stare at your spinning ceiling fan watching the blades blur. Your walls painted teal from when you were little.

Now, it's numb again, but you’re not craving food to even out the pain. You’ve grown to be disgusted from calories. From yourself.

Now, you don’t eat. Your grandma makes milk chocolate chip cookies, irresistible, beautifully golden and melted, you want it, but you can’t have it. There's a moment then where you reach for the cookie, grazing it with your finger tips, but you don’t pick it up. Because now you’re hungry. But you can’t eat.

So you go days without it and wishing something would change. You don’t know what, but you want it to be something; something you’re not.

Then it's the seventh day, and you can barely stay awake. Your body aches, You cry when you think about the mouth-watering, felicity of food, and your stomach grumbles. Your grandma saunters in the door of your pumpkin spice scented house. With her she is bearing a container of mashed potatoes. She lays it on the kitchen table. To avoid its delectable smells, you escape upstairs to your room.

Then, Mom calls you down for dinner.

Never have you said no to mom.

To go down stairs for dinner.

So you do.

You watch Grandmother hand you a plate with steaming hot mashed potatoes, chicken, peas, and a biscuit. You stare at it. Now you're faced with your worst enemy and you have to choose if you will fight it or surrender. You’d feel guilty for turning down Grandmother's food, because her mashed potatoes are always delicious.

So you eat it.

Because you’re the Chef's Granddaughter.

And once you start you can’t stop.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

492 of 2023

Unfortunate Fall Events 🍁 [Have You Ever]

Created by joybucket

Have you ever…. had an allergic reaction to the leaves in the fall? 🍁 cut the tags off of an itchy sweater? realized your body can't handle very much caffeine? ☕️ felt sick after eating a slice of pie? 🥧 felt sick after eating Halloween candy? 🍬 had to stay inside on Halloween because you were sick? 🎃 wanted to go outside and enjoy the fall foliage, but had to stay inside because you were sick? 🍁 had to use your inhaler after breathing in campfire smoke? 🔥🪵 had a finger randomly go completely numb and turn white? ….and then realized you need to wear gloves whenever it's under 60 degrees? 🧤 asked someone to the Homecoming Dance and then been rejected? realized that eating apples makes your stomach hurt? 🍎 discovered you didn't really like carving pumpkins? 🎃🔪 been hit in the face with a football? 🏈 tried to throw a football and discovered you couldn't do it? 🏈 spent Thanksgiving alone? 🦃 felt sick after getting the flu shot? 💉 felt sick after getting the COVID shot? 💉 realized you were allergic to cinnamon? had an allergic reaction to a fall-scented candle? had a headache from wearing a hat? wished fall lasted longer? ate so much food you accidentally made yourself sick? wished a public place didn't start decorating for Christmas so early? had someone smash a pumpkin through the window of your house? realized that you were allergic to the book dust in the pages of old books? 📖 tried a pumpkin spice latte and thought it tasted disgusting? ☕️ 🎃 tried apple cider and thought it tasted disgusting? 🍎🍁 gotten into a fight with someone named Autumn? wished you hadn't worn a skirt on a super windy day? tried candy corn and thought it tasted disgusting? gotten lost in a corn maze? 🌽 realized you didn't really like cranberry sauce? found a worm inside of an apple? 🍎 🐛 dressed for warm weather and then wished you had dressed warmer when the weather turned out to be colder than you expected? didn't bring your jacket with you to an event and then later wished you had brought it, because you were cold? ate all your Halloween candy in one sitting and then later regretted it? 🍬 worn an itchy sweater? saw a bunch of black crows outside your window and wondered if they were spies? 🐦‍⬛ realized you didn't like pumpkin spice? 🎃 realized you didn't like apple cinnamon? 🍎 chopped a turkey's head off and then cried afterwards? 🦃🔪 taken a sip of aged apple cider that you thought tasted gross because it was so fermented? wished you owned a pair of stylish boots but couldn't afford them? 👢 been the last of your friends to own a pair of jeggings? 👖 worn an itchy scarf? 🧣 wished you had a loving and supportive family that you could be thankful for, but you didn't? wished you had loving and supportive friends that you could be thankful for, but you didn't? accidentally burnt yourself when trying to start a bonfire? 🔥🪵 accidentally burnt yourself when trying to light a candle? 🕯️ had to close your windows because your neighbors were burning leaves (or just having a bonfire)? 🔥🪵 tried knitting and found you didn't really like it? 🧶 tried crocheting and found you didn't really like it? 🧶 dyed your hair a new color for fall, and then you thought it turned out terrible? made a huge fool of yourself at your school's Homecoming Dance? 💃 tried out for cheerleading and didn't make it? 📣 tried out for football and didn't make it? 🏈 felt sick after eating too many powdered donuts? forgot to throw out a pumpkin until it started to rot? 🎃 tried to burn leaves and then accidentally caught your house on fire? 🔥 read a book that gave you nightmares? 📖 watched a movie that gave you nightmares? thought you saw a ghost? 👻 had trouble deciding what you wanted to be for Halloween?

[superconductivebean]

#737: #HLMCOctober - MASTERPOST

What a perfect opportunity to surmise something anything about Julia! And add more to her ever-developing character. Thank you @girl-named-matty for sharing the template!

I'd go day by day but I am already nose deep into writober / fictober as well as into some other things (Inquiries ; life bruh), I won't have so alot of time. xD Posts are put on queue, they won't have numbers. ^ ^

Introduction

Julia on a crisp autumn day

Julia's opinion on pumpkin spice

Prank or be pranked

Julia's autumn wear

RANDOM FACT #1

Moodboard!

Julia's favourite treats

Unphased or scared

Scenario: alone at the graveyard

Julia's favourite autumn scents

Halloween Traditions

RANDOM FACT #2

Would Julia prefer a DIYed or a bought costume

Scenario: pumpkin carving

Cute or spook: decoration preferences

TOP-5 Julia songs

Julia's opinion on the most disgusting candy

Apple picking or hayriding: leisure at a festival

RANDOM FACT #3

Cosy flavours of the season: Julia's go-to dishes

Julia at the harvest festival

Perfect autumn date (ot3? :3c)

Julia's horror films archetype

Julia's opinion on silly fears

Tricks to pull off on Halloween

RANDOM FACT #4

Julia's greatest fears

Julia's opinion on ghosts

Julia's opinion on renting a haunted house for the night

Julia's Halloween costume.

Suppose that's about it. ^ ^

[elisabeth-carrion]

things i did in 2022

1. tried new food/drink: two kinds of sake [one tasted like water, second was pink! and tasted like liquer], vegan “meat” pie with black cumin seed, vege “fish” fingers [disgusting], onigiri with green peas, some kind of biscuit with onion and shirmp, strawberries in matcha chocolate, raspberry mulled wine, pomegranate tea that tasted like liquid vitamin c, limited edition fruity merci chocolates, white chocolate twix bar, nut and cream flavored coffee, vege paprykarz, naruto in ramen, mango lassi, panettone, panettone flavored ice cream, monodessert, rose latte, vegan kaszanka, kiwi and quince flavored beer, prickly pear faloverd beer, melon flavored beer, drinks with dry ice in them [very showy], cream beer, many different sugar-free sweets, thai ice cream, blue colored drink, karambba [official cake to promote my city], lavender ice cream, muzeum fauny i flory, ramune, karaage, corn soup, sakura ice cream, starbucks pumpkin spice, waffle with sour filling, vinegar crisps, senbei and some more japanese treats, lots of new pączki flavors includin pumpkin and spinach, tea where you can eat the “leaves”, takoyaki, so many different new teas from advent calendar and other sources, flavored marzepan [nuts and pineapple], 

2. went to linocut class

3. visited new places: city of gardens cafe, miętówka cafe, krowarzywa, mono bistro, Ochaby, Crystal mountain hotel in Wisła, trzy miotły cafe, namaste india restaurant, european bison enclosure, magiczny kocioł cafe, carmelove cafe, fałatówka museum, bulwary straceńskie, curry and tandoor house, 9 3/4 cafe, imbryk cafe

4. played a video game

5. went away for the may long weekend

6. rode the local railways famous golden train

7. started using a wooden tooth brush

8. stayed in a hotel alone

9. used perfumes in a cream [not my thing]

10. donated blood

11. took my own outfit photos outside

12. reached 666 watched anime :) in August. Today its already over 700.

13. Passed japanese proficiency test level N2 with 95% :)

14. rode local short-distance bus 

15. went to a pottery class and made a very cute pink and yellow dish with a turtle

16. held a stick insect

17. went to the local sport airport open day, touched a plane, had great time

18. made curry

19. managed to get around by bus in a city i dont know

20. went to a house party

21. walked holding childs hand

22. made takoyaki at a party

23. got my favourite band’s new album and i love it

24. got into scented candles

25. asked a girl i like for a coffee and she agreed, turned out shes not into girls but im still counting it in my favor look how brave i am now, im unstoppable

26. acctually refused some things i didnt want to do and i love that for me

next year i want to travel more and study more :) AND finally finish the renovations oh my god its so close

[nobilitylost]

@exsanguinatc​ from starter call (Astor & Gabriel) 

“I’m convinced that Lucifer created pumpkin spice. It is something my brother would do, without question.” Long fingers idly brushed against Astor’s arm, as Gabriel nodded his head in the direction of the coffee shop. He wanted tea, something to warm the chill that had settled against his skin, but autumn’s most polarizing scent had drifted his way once a passerby opened the door.

Time spent with his companion had been rare of late, too many goings-on both on earth and in the other realms to afford them much alone time. “Which means, of course, that you love it. I bet you have pumpkin spice everything, don’t you? I once saw an advertisement for pumpkin spiced Spam.” Gabriel made a face, disgust evident, and dragged the demon toward the offending smell. “But they have the best tea in the neighborhood, so I’ll make do. Come, and tell me what you’ve been up to lately – and how much you’ve missed my company.”

[memoryxtoxdreams]

A horrid scent hit her nose, taking the candle the old teacher gave her, her right foot went back and in one swift motion kicked the candle up into the air at a great distance which caused her to stared up with golden hues.

“...Fuckin’ caramel..” 

[allandoflimbo]

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.

Full Masterpage |

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.”

+ + +

@snakeeatery17 @utterlyhopeful-fics , @marvelfan1017, @iheartsebastianstan , @annathesillyfriend , @redhairedfeistynerd, @perksofbeingabookworm, @amyrose051, @meegggoooo, @morganclaire4 , @captainchrisstan, @bxndys , @shoesonpointe ,  @writerwrites, @rainbowkisses31, @lindatreb , @littlemissner98 , @dezzylou24, @ayeitslelee , @hardygal69 ,  @emmabarnes , @redbarn1995@thequeenreaders@ilovemysupersoldiers@maximumplaidzonknerd@ceapa-mica @s-trawberryv-eins@buckysknifecollections@sobangie @lindatreb@theseuscmander @nervous-plant @wildmoonflower  @aya-fay@appreciating-fanfics @kaitlynisinfinite @justreadingfics@kaitieskidmore1 @mrsdancing​

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Pumpkin Spice Lattes

Jackson Neill x Reader

For @storiesofsvu​’s Fall Bingo! Requested by @itsjustmyfantasyroom​

Warnings: Student-professor relationship (adult grad student/not your professor), atheism, assholes in love, pumpkin spice bashing, pumpkin spice appreciation, first kiss, fluff.

1,223 words

Some relationships are founded upon a mutual love of something, and that positive foundation is built upon by kind words, compassion, and consideration. In other words, people like each other because they’re nice.

Your friendship with Professor Jackson Neill, however, was built on something even better: mutual bitchiness.

A friend in his religious studies class introduced you. “Oh god,” you thought as she invited him to sit with you in the dining hall, fully prepared to roll your eyes at his pious spiritual bullshit. One angry atheist rant later, you realized he was not that kind of religion professor. Jackson devoted his life to exposing “new American religions,” that is, cults, and was a jaded ex-Catholic antitheist.

You were all too eager to listen, and he was thrilled as you took off on your own rant about faith always conveniently justifying whatever beliefs a person wants to believe. “More often, it’s weaponized by an institution to exert control and maintain power,” Jackson cut in, and you were off on a heated debate about individual faith vs. organized religion. Your friend sighed and ate her greasy cafeteria pizza.

He was gorgeous and actually thoughtful on top of the cynicism, but you were afraid to ask him on a date. You were a Ph.D. student. Granted, he wasn’t your professor or even in your department, but it was unprofessional. Besides, he was recently divorced. When you first met, he was still married (if separated), and you weren’t sure he was ready to start dating again. So you kept your crush to yourself.

Jackson became the friend you could always turn to when you needed to snark and didn’t want your other friends to think you were an asshole. You bonded over people who posted too many baby pictures on Facebook, pseudo-science, homeopathy, emails full of bad grammar, Republican senators restricting birth control—there was nothing you couldn’t complain about to each other. It was liberating being with another cynic—not having to filter yourself.

But there was one thing—one entire season, actually—where he betrayed you.

It was the first day of September, and as if the weather were aware of the calendar date, it was sunny and crisp. Leaves, not yet changing color, rattled in the wind from their branches outside the library window. Your phone sat screen-up on the table in front of you in a paranoid bid to see any notifications the moment they came in, but the device remained dark.

Earlier that day, you texted Jackson about how much you hated pumpkin spice—pumpkin spice donuts, pumpkin spice coffee, pumpkin spice beer, pumpkin spice breakfast cereal. He called you a bad feminist.

“You only hate it because it’s something women stereotypically enjoy.”

“No, I hate it because it’s disgusting, and the flavor is so artificial it’s like eating a scented candle!”

“Have you ever tried the pumpkin spice latte at Earle’s?”

“I don’t need to. The entire concept is gross and NOT because I hate women.”

“Grouch. Enjoy the season.”

“Never. Take your pumpkin-spice Kool-Aid and get out.”

And then he didn’t reply. No witty retort, no cute appeal to your empathetic side. The message was read, but no response.

You debated messaging, “Just kidding,” but that would sound desperate. Like you cared if he was pissed off about stupid pumpkin garbage. Like the thought of him being mad at you was devastating.

Fuck.

It was only a matter of time before you clashed with people—you were too stubborn, rubbed everyone the wrong way. Why couldn’t you learn to keep your opinions to yourself? He finally realized you’re an even bigger jerk than him. Great. Not only would you never have his heart, now you’d lost his friendship, too.

Tears were pricking the back of your eyelids when a voice rang out behind you:

“THE SPICE MUST FLOW!”

Jackson grinned as he swept a cardboard coffee tray onto the desk in front of you. The design on the cups surrounding an Earle’s logo was ominously orange.

“Oh my god, you didn’t. Nerd.”

“Just try it, trust me.”

“Fine,” you relented. It made your heart ache that you’d almost been fighting. “Then you won’t be mad?”

“Mad?” His charming voice was marked by confusion. He was approachable in person, with his friendly smile and hints of grey softening his dark hair. No matter how fiercely you debated, he never got offended. You would have realized that if you were looking at him instead of texting.

Your face flamed at the slip of vulnerability.

“Did you think I was angry? Because you’re a bad feminist who unfairly hates delicious seasonal spices?” he smirked. “I could never be mad at you.”

You hoped someone would pull the fire alarm, or you’d wake up before he saw your sulky, pathetic, heartsick expression.

“Look at me.” His voice was suddenly low and firm, filled with concern. He tilted your chin toward him and his reassuring, lopsided smile. “Hey, you put up with me all the time.”

“You don’t think I’m too grumpy?”

“I think you’re perfect.”

Your cheeks were on fire. The way he looked at you from under drooping, half-closed eyelids, leaning over you in your chair, his face close to yours, gave the unmistakable impression of desire. Or were you just imagining what you wanted to see? His lips looked so soft…

You rocked forward an inch, and his lips were as yielding as you imagined, if not as smooth. They were slightly chapped—he never did take enough care of himself—and the stubble around them was scratchy. But oh, he was so warm.

He broke the kiss briefly to search your face. “Was that OK?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, and his lips were on yours again, hungrier this time. His tongue boldly swept out to test the seam of your lips, and you parted them willingly. Your tongue licked forward to meet his, and you tasted the creamy cinnamon and clove of the latte he’d been sipping. “Mmm,” you sighed at the sweetness of his kiss as his hand cradled the back of your head and your arms wrapped around his broad chest, deepening the connection.

When you finally broke apart, your heart was fluttering wildly, and you were surrounded by him—his unique scent, like musty books and clean cologne, his heat… and the goddamned taste of pumpkin spice latte.

His brows tilted, and the corner of his lips charmingly quivered at the precipice of a smile, as if he wasn’t quite sure what you were going to say, but that your next words would reshape his life for better or worse. This wasn’t a sudden impulsive kiss, you realized.

“Jackson…” you sighed, cupping his jaw. Your thumb brushed over his scruffy cheek. “I guess pumpkin spice lattes aren’t that bad.”

A grin stretched beneath your thumb. “Told you!”

You glanced around the library. You’d chosen a quiet corner, and there weren’t many people around, but you supposed Jackson was beyond caring about the professional optics if you were caught. This was something you had both wanted for a long time, deep under your hardened exteriors.

“Can I taste some more?”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @detectivebarba 

[heartsmadeofbooks]

hi laura!!

i’m not sure if this is a thing where you are, but in the united states, during the fall every company makes products that are pumpkin spice flavored or scented

there are pumpkin spice candles, pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin spice curries, pumpkin spice cereal, and of course, pumpkin spice pastries

so

i was wondering if you think kurt in syrup and honey would make pumpkin spice desserts

Hi Nico ♥

It's not a thing here at all, mostly because it's a fall thing and it's spring here, but also in general it's not a thing. For the first time this year I think Starbucks is making the pumpkin spice latte (haven't tried it yet, my cousin says it's disgusting).

But I totally think Kurt would make pumpkin spice desserts. Probably cupcakes (it's his specialty!) but probably pie or even brownies? I don't know, the possibilities are endless and Kurt would know how to answer this better than I do. Too bad we can't ask him :P