plays pickup

Brother's Best Friend

Hello! Here’s a request I’ve been working on; I had fun with this one!

Request: @dragoncharmwitch - Could you make a text where you’re michael’s older sister and he finds out you fancy ash. And the boys set you up please :) // Sorry this one took so long!

Title: Brother’s Best Friend

Summary: When her brother and his friends find out that Y/N has a crush on Ashton, they decide to take action.

Words: 1k+

Warnings: Lil’ bit of language. Nothing horrible.

“Shit,” you mutter, digging through the refrigerator. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you turn around and run a hand through your hair. “Michael!” you shout. You wait a few moments and, when he doesn’t reply, you cup your hands around your mouth and yell a bit louder. “Michael!

You hear a muffled “What,” from upstairs and groan in frustration.

“You took the last bottle of water, you prick!” you call again, but you’re met with silence. Naturally, of course; you can only assume your brother is in his bedroom with the door closed, his music up loud, and his headset glued to his ears so he can talk to his friends as he plays his video games. “Moron,” you grumble to yourself, slamming the refrigerator door closed and grabbing your keys from the table. Looks like you’re making a grocery run. Oh, well. You need snacks, anyway.

You head to the door, but when you open it you yelp in surprise as you nearly collide with another body. “What the hell!” you exclaim, blinking in surprise before your gaze focuses on a face you know all too well.

“Well, hello to you too, Y/N,” Ashton says with a cheeky grin.

You roll your eyes and smile, shaking your head. “Move over, Irwin,” you tell him, and you can only hope your face isn’t as red as a tomato.

So maybe you have a tiny, little crush on your brother’s friend. You’re honestly not sure how someone with a working pair of eyes couldn’t have a crush on Ashton. The guy is gorgeous. Half of your grade drools over him, including you. You suppose you’re lucky that he’s one of Michael’s best friends, granting you opportunities to see him outside of school several times a week, although you never quite understood why Ashton hangs out with a bunch of kids in the year below him.

“Well, what’s the password?” Ashton quips in regard to your demand, crossing his arms. He unknowingly flexes in the process, and your heart skips a beat.

“The password,” you say, still smiling, “is back up before I make you.

Ashton lets out a laugh (you’re pretty sure a swarm of butterflies was just set loose in your stomach) and steps away. “As much as I’d like to accept your challenge, Y/N,” he says, “you’re awfully intimidating when you threaten.”

Your smile grows and you step out of the doorway, making your way down the driveway before turning around to glance at Ashton. You could swear he just winked at you before he walked into the house, but you tell yourself it’s just wishful thinking. Still, though, after you’ve settled behind the wheel of your car, you pull out your phone to text your friend.

To: Michaela


Ashton Irwin just got here and the boy looks too good. I have actual tears in my eyes.

You add a heart-eyed emoji at the end of the message for exaggeration before you toss your phone into the center console and start up the car.


“Honey, I’m home,” you mutter sarcastically as you walk through the door. You’re juggling a six-pack of bottled water and two grocery bags as you stumble into the kitchen, dropping everything onto the counter at the first chance you get. You hear laughter from upstairs and realize that Michael has a few other friends over as well as Ashton; probably Luke and Calum.

You set to work putting away the few groceries you bought and take a bottle of water for yourself. You hear footsteps behind you, and when you turn around you see Michael standing behind you. “Uh, hi?” you say with a frown. Your brother looks slightly puzzled as he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Do you like Ashton?” he asks bluntly.

You blink, taken slightly aback by the question. “I—what? I mean, yeah. Obviously I like him. I kinda have to, considering he’s your friend and—”

“No,” Michael shakes his head. “Not like, platonically or anything. I mean it as in, like… more than platonically?”

A feeling of unease settles over you. How would he—

And then your eyes widen. You reach for your phone, quickly unlocking it and opening your messages. “Fuck,” you whisper when you realize that you didn’t, in fact, send your Ashton-related text to your friend Michaela, but instead to Michael. Damn them and their similar names.

You look up from your phone and notice that Michael is still there, standing awkwardly. “I…” you begin, trying to figure out the best way to word your next sentence. It’s no use lying at this point, you figure. Might as well admit. “I… find him… attractive,” you say, and it comes out sounding more like a question than anything else.

“You think Ashton is attractive?” Michael repeats, furrowing his brow.

“Yes?” you reply sheepishly, cringing slightly.

Michael shakes his head and you think you might die from awkwardness. There’s no way he won’t tell Ashton. Even worse, Ashton probably already saw the message. Shit, shit, shit, sh—

“I mean, coming from a straight guy, you’re not wrong.”

“Huh?” you ask, looking at your brother. Michael only shrugs.

“Ashton Irwin is an attractive male,“ he clarifies. “I’m straight, not blind.”

“Wait…” you begin, “so you’re not like, mad or anything?”

“I mean I’m not gonna lie, it kinda weirds me out,” Michael admits, “but in all honesty I think he’s sort of into you too, something I will never be able to understand—”

“Ha, ha.”

“—but, I guess it’s whatever. You guys flirt all the time and it’s kinda nasty, so Luke and Cal and I talked it over and figured we might as well help you guys out.”

At this point, you’re thoroughly confused. So, Michael is okay with the fact that you like Ashton? And he thinks Ashton likes you too? And he and his other friends are going to help you out? “What… what does that even mean?” you say skeptically.

“Just don’t worry about it,” Michael sighs. “It wasn’t my idea; Luke just thinks he’s a genius or something. I’m gonna go back upstairs now before I puke at the thought of you dating one of my best friends.”

“O-okay?” you stutter, watching as your younger brother heads back upstairs. You press a hand to your forehead and lean against the counter, letting out a deep breath.

What the hell just happened?



You groan as you hear Michael’s voice from down the hall. You just got comfortable on your bed. “What?” you holler back.

You don’t receive a reply, and you groan again, closing your laptop and standing up from your spot. Stretching your back, you slowly pad your way down the hall to Michael’s bedroom. The door is closed, so you knock. “Mike, what the hell do you want?” you demand. You can hear laughter and gunshots, meaning they’re still glued to their video game. “Mi—” you’re about to knock one more time before the door opens to reveal your brother’s friend Calum.

“Oh,” he says. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi?” you frown, trying to peer around him into the room. “Why did you guys call?”

Michael materializes behind Calum and grins. “We sent Ashton into the garage.”

“Congratulations,” you deadpan. “Why, though?”

“We told him to find a ball. We want to play some pickup in the yard,” calls Luke from his spot in front of the TV.

“Cool…” you say, your frown deepening.

“We’re in the middle of a game, so could you just go help him?” Michael suggests, rolling his eyes.

You make a face of exasperation, letting out a sigh when you realize what’s going on. “Seriously, you guys?”

“Take the opportunity or leave it, Y/N,” says Michael. “Naturally I’d prefer for you to leave it, but I’m outnumbered.”

You look up at Calum and he shrugs, smiling innocently at you. “We just want to play some football.”

You close your eyes and press your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “Fine,” you say finally. “I will go help Ashton look for a ball.”

Without another word, you turn and head back down the hall.


You wish you were wearing something other than sweatpants and a tank top as you step into the garage, where Ashton is rummaging through the piles of junk. “Need a hand?” you call, straining to see him.

“Huh?” his head pokes around from behind a cardboard box and he grins when he realizes it’s you. “Oh. Hey, Y/N. How’d you know I was struggling out here?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Just had a feeling. I can always tell when there’s a damsel in distress nearby.”

Ashton stands to his full height and stretches. “Damsel in distress?” he asks. “I take offense to that. Very emasculating.”

“It’s the twenty-first century,” you tell him. “Nothing should be emasculating. But, if it makes you feel any better, Mike and the other guys told me to help you.”

“Ah, so they’re the ones who can sense a person in distress.”

“More-or-less,” you agree, stepping forward. “So, you can’t find a ball.”

“I’m afraid you’re correct,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair and glancing around.

You follow his line of vision, looking around the garage before your gaze lands on exactly what you’re looking for. “Well,” you say triumphantly, walking over to a box hidden behind Michael’s old bicycle that he’s used maybe like once in his entire life and reaching over to grab the black-and-white ball. “Clearly you didn’t look very hard.”

Ashton purses his lips and exhales through his nose. “Guess not.”

You giggle and walk back over to where he’s standing, holding the ball out. However, when he goes to grab it, you pull it back toward you. “You know, this is gonna cost you,” you snicker, looking at him with arched eyebrows.

“Oh, really?” he replies with a grin, stepping closer. In response, you take a step back. You nod, and his smile grows. “Well, what’s your price?”

“Hmm,” you pretend to think, tapping your index finger against your lips and looking up. “I think—” Before you can finish your sentence, Ashton lunges forward and grabs the ball. However, you had a strong grip on it and as a result, he pulled you forward as well. You end up a few inches away from him and laugh nervously, hoping your face isn’t growing red at the proximity. “You think you’re quick!” you remark, looking up at him and immediately wishing you didn’t.

The two of you hold eye contact for what can’t be more than one second before he speaks, but you’re like 80% sure it really lasts closer to five minutes (have his eyes always had that much green in them?), before he speaks. “Actually,” he says lowly, and you can’t stop your breath from hitching, “I know I’m quick.”

You steel yourself and tilt your head to the side in faux innocence. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” you challenge.

“You want proof?”

“Yep,” you smirk. “Full proof, and maybe an essay written in MLA format with—”

Your sentence is cut off by Ashton’s hands on either side of your face and his lips on yours. You drop the ball, letting it bounce away across the concrete. You’re about to respond when Ashton breaks the kiss. “You talk too much,” he says, smiling at you. “How’s that for quick?”

You’re pretty sure you resemble a fish right now, your jaw dropping only for your mouth to snap closed, then fall open again as you try to process what the hell just happend. “Oh my god.”

Ashton’s expression changes to one of fear, maybe doubt, and he lets go of your face. “Wait, did I overstep?” he asks, taking a step back. “Shit, Y/N, I thought… should I not have…? Shit, I’m sorry, I—”

This time, however, you’re the quick one. Having (mostly) recovered from the first kiss, you don’t waste any time in closing the distance between the two of you, lightly grabbing the material at the collar of his singlet and pulling him toward you. “And you said I talk too much,” you say before leaning forward.

It feels nice to kiss Ashton. He’s good at it. The two of you break apart again, only to grin at each other and lean in once more. “You’re supposed to be bringing that ball up to the other guys,” you remind him against his lips, and he lets out a breathy laugh in response.

“They can wait a little bit longer.”


To: Ashton


So where does this leave us?

You chew on your lip anxiously as your thumb hovers over the ‘send’ button, and you close your eyes when you tap it. The familiar whoosh of your message sending causes you to cringe. Do you sound desperate? Clingy?

Ashton and the other guys left about a half hour ago. The garage incident escalated to a brief makeout session before you and Ashton finally decided you were gone for too long. Exchanging awkward smiles, he left the garage and you followed a few minutes later. You didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

So now here you are, sitting on the couch while a movie plays on the TV and serves as background noise to your inner suspense.

Suddenly the telltale bubble appears on Ashton’s side of the screen, showing that he’s typing. “Shit,” you mutter. You close your messaging app and wait for his message to come through, and when it does, your heart lurches anxiously.

From: Ashton


You tell me, princess.

You roll your eyes before typing back a quick response.

To: Ashton


Don’t do that. You kissed me first.

From: Ashton


Fair enough.

He continues to type and your heart rate picks up. You look up at the TV in front of you. A clearly-suspenseful scene is playing out, and the lead character’s heartbeat is illustrated through the pounding of drums. Me too, you relate. A whoosh tells you that Ashton has replied.

From: Ashton


I think it’s pretty safe to say that I’m into you, if you couldn’t tell earlier. And it seemed an awful like you’re into me, too. So, I’d like to act on this mutual interest, as long as you’re up for it.

You bite your lip again, but this time it isn’t out of nerve. You fight a smile as you type back.

To: Ashton


Sounds good to me.

To: Ashton


Oh, but you’re not asking me out over text. Just a heads up.

When Ashton’s reply comes in, you can’t help but kick your legs and laugh out of giddiness.

From: Ashton


Wouldn’t have it any other way. Talk to you tomorrow xx

“You’re welcome, by the way,” comes Michael’s voice as he enters the room with a soda in his hand, plopping down on the recliner that rests diagonal from the couch you’re on. He takes a swig from the aluminum can and raises an eyebrow smugly.

“Shut up,” you tell him, but you can’t bring yourself to be mad. The smile on your face is more than enough proof.



handball: still a thing?

In primary school, in mid-nineties New South Wales, Australia, I played a game called handball at lunch and recess. This involved a tennis ball, either a two- or four-box grid that was painted or chalked on the asphalt, and two or four players accordingly. It was basically hand tennis without a net: you ‘served’ the ball by bouncing it on the ground in your square over the line to your opponent, who could only let it bounce once in their square before returning play in kind, and so on until there was either a double bounce, a shot that went over the line on the full, or the ball went out. If you did a power shot (a hard, fast hit with a spin that often went low) and the ball ended up rolling, you could call “Rolls, pickups, play on!” and serve again, though sometimes you’d agree that, once the ball was rolling, you could also hit it back at a roll. 

If you were playing the four-square version, the squares were called King, Queen, Jack and Dunce - or sometimes Ace, King, Queen and Jack, depending on where you went to school - and the game was a rotating one. The person in the high square (King or Ace) would serve, and every time a point was won, the winner would move up a square, so that the loser had to rotate to Jack/Dunce. If the person in the lowest square was called out, a new player could enter the game; otherwise, in the two-player version, you’d either play to a set number of points, or the first out person would swap with a waiting player.

As a kid, I loved handball. In term, I played it almost daily between the ages of six and eleven, and I’m reasonably sure that I still played sometimes in early high school. But now, as an adult of 31, it’s suddenly struck me that I’ve never encountered any reference to handball in any other context. I’ve never seen it mentioned in stories or heard other adults talk about it, never seen younger kids playing it or overheard it mentioned since, and assuming I ever discussed it with friends as a teenager, I’ve now completely forgotten. 

So: is handball of this type a thing that still happens? Did other people play it as kids? Is it unique to Australia, or more universal, or do other Australians have no memory of it? I’m curious to know!

ohfucktherewashomework  asked:

ok i saw ur og post for hogwarts au and i love it a LOT, but i've one thing for consideration: instead of seeker pike, beater pike? bc like, its harder to imagine our fav low-dex girl goin out and catchin this tiny birdball, even if it fits her size more. beater pike, on the other hand, cracks me UP bc i just? am imagining the tryout? this tiny, sweet puff girl on this ole cleansweep, and the team is like "..." but then she picks up a bat n she's played w grog for half her life—she /slams/ it

aw heck you’re right of course she’d be a beater

she and grog show up for tryouts at the beginning of their second year and everyone laughs because he’s enormous and she’s absolutely tiny but then they get up in the air and they play together like they were born to it (and like, they’ve been playing pickup matches in Wilhand’s backyard since they were about six so they really know their shit)

related: Scanlan has definitely had to duck a bludger or two when his commentary gets a little too, uh, enthousiastic

Tips for Going to Hypnocons for People Who Are Almost Exactly Like Me

I have been to 4 NEEHUs, 1 Entranced, 1 Charmed, a Deepmind Darkwood, 3 Fetish Fleamarkets, 2 London Hypnosis workshops, and a number of one-off hypno things in Europe. (I bet my colleagues at work would be surprised to hear this!). Most of them I went to unpartnered, all as a shy introvert.

I’m not good at going to hypnocons. But I’m better than I was. So here are my tips, customized for me and people like me. So not stuff that I hope came naturally to me, like “be polite and don’t treat people like objects”, and also not stuff that is literally impossible for me, like “don’t compare yourself to other people.” But maybe you need to be told a whole different set of things. Also, I don’t necessarily have great insight into what I’m doing right, or what I’m doing wrong. But I hope these help anyway!

Emotional and physiological chaos is normal. FOMO, envy, social anxiety, jealousy, disappointment, having to see exes, having to see people who creeped on you. If you think everyone else is having a perfect time and you’re the only one in distress, you are very wrong. Also, they will lie about it, by omission, in their blog posts afterwards (I do!) so for god’s sake don’t compare yourself to that. Physiologically, I’ve caught a cold for so many of these cons, and sleep deprivation, travel stress, sugar crashes and other things will give your body a nonsexy pounding. And folks with disabilities or chronic illnesses have even more to deal with. There’s no way to avoid some chaos, so just know that you can make wonderful memories in the midst of chaos! ALL IS NOT LOST. And take it easy on people, eh?

There’s a role for the new person. The hypno community is incredibly cliquey. It’s a natural consequence of hypno being a very rare kink, and one that requires a huge amount of trust. It takes years to build that trust. So be patient with yourself. If you do any pickup play with new people at all on your first con - and you’re not a young woman - you’re doing very well. But if you’re positive, genuinely interested in people, and obviously eager to learn, people will be extremely kind.

Learning to ask while not being gross is everything. There are many, many great guides to this online, as well as cautionary tales about what not to do, so all I’ll say here is look at it all as practice; be as bold as you are respectful; amazing things can happen just by asking in the right place at the right time; and as the great wristbands at Charmed said, “Ask first. Respect the answer.”

The greatness of your con is decided long before you hit the registration desk. The upside to my pitiful addiction to hypnotumblr is that I could put faces to tumblr names at the con. “Ah yes! I have enjoyed your pornography! And your curation of animated gif pornography!”  This time was very aware that most people - flying in from everywhere from Vancouver Island to Manchester, England - are beginning and maintaining their relationships online between cons. At the moment the thing is Skype, Dischord and Snapchat groups, in addition to tumblr and fetlife. You don’t actually have to do any of that, but it helps – see, cliquyness, trust. And preparation in general: I half-assed Charmed and NEEHU this year, since I only decided to go to each at the last minute, and as a result they were a little flat (except for the presence of @khatsha at Charmed!) Actually read the schedule, make plans with people you know, check out other people’s wishlists and make plans with them, give yourself missions or sidequests.

Think about how to help other people have a great con. It’s a great way to take your mind off yourself and how you’re doing, and to be visible in the best possible way. If people are bored, have something for them to participate in. If something needs to get done, be the one to do it. I know two people who brought their cars just to ferry people around at two different cons, and made tons of friends, including sexy friends. Teaching or demoing for a class is best of course, but if not, volunteer, bring treats, join in activities. Get involved in every way you can.

Figure out who’s sleeping with who. For “sleeping with” substitute hypnotizing, playing with, or living with in a polycule in a creaky old mansion. And also, who used to be sleeping with who, who wants to be sleeping with who, who wishes they were still sleeping with who (don’t go around creepily asking these things of course). Otherwise much public behaviour will be baffling.

Figure out who’s assaulted or creeped on who. For the same reason.

Make your interests specific and public. I learned this from @khatsha, who asked for, and got, two incredibly intricate gender-bending interrogation scenes at her second ever hypnocon. She also wants to be hypnotized to be a raccoon, and I have no doubt, some day that will happen. (Maybe I’ll do it on our anniversary) At Entranced Dreamelf carried around an adorable decorated printout of her wishlist, and I believe she checked off every one. And one of those things was copied off my published wishlist, and I got to do it with her! It’s paradoxical, but being specific can be much more attractive than just wanting “any type of hypnosis with anyone”. As long as you’re unattached to any outcome, and sharing your fantasies rather imposing them, only good things can result.

Ask people what classes to go to. Some classes are way better than others, and it connects you with folks at least twice, once when you ask and once when you tell them how great it was.

Take a break before you absolutely have to. No class is unmissable, and recharging is often the most important thing you could be doing.

You don’t have to bring it style-wise, but it pays off if you do. A nice thing about hypno cons is that you can totally wear jeans and a t-shirt and it’s never a big deal. But ever since I got turned away at a Dublin kink club for not having a dungeon outfit, I’ve been determined to level up. I’ve been slowly collecting party clothes that are progress towards my vision of Hypnowave. (the coming overwhelming trendiness of erotic hypnosis, in music, fashion, art and pop culture, that we will ride until it spectacularly burns out and becomes a dated joke even faster than Vaporwave) Not only did I get a lot of compliments at Entranced, but everyone wanted to grope my shiny fuzzy blazer. If you are saying, I can’t find or afford party clothes, that blazer was $80 on Amazon. Last argument: I’ve noticed that on average the women are making more of an effort. If you have ambitions to trance with women who are in pretty corsets and great boots, shouldn’t you rise to the occasion?

Reject control, embrace chance and happenstance. Think of it as an improvisation, and say yes as often as you safely can. Many of the best memories will come from totally spontaneous group occurrences, often nothing to do with hypnosis. I remember being on an elevator at Charmed that was very full and someone started groaning sexually about how very full it was, and other people took it up, until we all orgasmed together as the doors opened on the con floor. A real “you had to be there“ moment I see as I type this, but I was there! On the flipside, plans fall through, unforeseen stuff comes up. Nothing is a sure thing.

Listen to emotions like curiousity, enthusiasm, affection, and lust.

Ignore emotions like lust for status, or desire for approval or acceptance.

Take a buffer day or three if you possibly can. See: above point about emotional and physiological chaos. I had to go back to work the day after Entranced, and it was horrible.

Stay in the game. Don’t bail. You might find yourself deep in your head, and ready to throw a pity party for yourself lasting till the end of the con. But things can turn around so fast! And even if they don’t, there will still be many beautiful little moments, of friendship and humour and sexiness and “this could only happen at a hypno con”. You can be ready for these moments if you keep your eyes open and your head up.

PS As I drafted this, two people have beat me to the punch with excellent advice sparked by Entranced 2017, and I highly recommend reading those too! Dommestic and dommesticpet

Kids- Chris Kreider

Originally posted by thatchydemko

I didn’t think this one would be hard, but I started it like three times before I found something I liked! This one is for @plutoisback so I hope you like it boo!

Warning: Christmas theme (don’t ask)

Request: Awe thanks!!! Anything pertaining Chris with children… that’s would be more than great!!! Don’t worry about when it’ll be up!! I’m just glad I’m getting one 😋


              You had a headband with reindeer antlers on. The antlers had red, green, and gold bells on them that jingled every time you moved your head. It clashed with your blue ‘Kreider’ jersey, but it put you in the spirit. Chris was wearing his jersey and a Santa hat.

Keep reading

Oh God I’m So Sorry AU Prompts

  • we were playing a pickup game of basketball and I elbowed you in the face and that’s a lot of blood I’m so sorry
  • I was in a hurry and I ran into you outside the coffee shop while you were carrying two lattes and it turns out they were both for you except that now you’re wearing them I’m so sorry
  • this is my first job waiting tables and wow these plates are heavy but I’m doing my best which apparently isn’t enough to defy gravity I’m so sorry
  • I love hockey, I am Ruler of the Rink and apparently I don’t know my own strength because I just crushed you into the boards I’m so sorry
  • running is supposed to be good for your health except I seem to have sprained my ankle and I took you out with me I’m so sorry
  • I was in the middle of a sick skateboard trick when you walked into my path and I couldn’t stop in time I’m so sorry
  • being a bike courier is great for my legs and it makes me good money and I meet hot people by running them over I’m so sorry
  • these super powers are so awesome it’s so exciting but I have zero control over them and I’m so sorry
  • you look a lot like my good friend so I ran up behind you and grabbed your ass with both hands in front of everyone I’m so sorry
  • I was hired to walk up to you and kiss you in public for the paparazzi and I only did it because I’m broke but you are a good guy and a good kisser I’m so sorry
  • I am the worst at parallel parking I mean I am so sorry about your fender I really hope one of us has insurance I’m so sorry
  • formal events are not my thing these shoes are new and this is a very long staircase at least you were at the bottom to break my fall I’m so sorry
Whenever I play pickup basketball i wear my shorts really loose

That way when I charge in for a layup everybody steps back cuz they fall down the when I jump and nobody wants a face full of dick

Bucky x You x Steve Part 6

@insanityismysanity12345 tag list 

The crisp fall air whipped around the motorcycle as you moved down the highway. Row’s of bright green leave’s draped on smooth cocoa brown branches, decorated with snow white, red apples.  

Your arm’s wrapped tightly around Bucky’s waist. The feel of his strong muscular body between your thigh’s more enjoyable than you would admit aloud. It took all your will power to not shamelessly run your hands along the defined abs, that hid beneath his navy blue shirt.  Your thoughts slowly taking a far more salacious turn….

“Here,” Bucky’s robust statement startling you almost off the bike. Then straight into his thick leather encased arms.

“Falling for me already?” His dark blue eye’s alight with mirth and a touch of mischief.

“Jame’s Buchannon Barne’s, you startled me is all.” Your hands were wiping at your skirt to hide the embarrassment brewing.

Bucky put his hands up in the air in mock surrender. A tinge of the mirth had dulled. The hands that had just fought for control now felt awkward.

“Come on. We’ll miss the hayride.” Bucky moving toward’s the last group of people to board the hayride. Your much smaller stride rushing to catch up. In a show of repentance, you deftly slid your finger’s into his. The feel of his calloused palm causing the corner’s of your mouth to turn up, just so.

When you reached the rustic wagon Bucky, being the perfect gentleman, assisted you with the ascent. Then he swung himself upon the hay. Oh but to watch that body in motion. A slight shiver-sending your teeth to glide over your lip.

Bucky’s eye’s darting over the action with the calculation of a hunter. His body was moving to lean into your’s, the smell of his cologne a profound reminder of all his past moments.

“Alright! You have one hour to pick as much that will fit into these basket’s.” A man in overall’s said. His ability to look like a stereotypical farmer were astounding.

Bucky hopped down the coffee colored earth beneath his shoes floating up in a cloud of dust. Not before he put his hands around your waist. The restrained strength behind it carried along to your nerve endings.

The energy between you two scintillating. Even those around were aware of it. Other couples made an effort to be more affectionate. Parent’s attempted to hustle their children along with the promise of hot cider.

You and Bucky simply moved along the path; whicker basket’s in hand. The smell of sweet red apple’s hanging around your heads like garlands. A whimsical smile gracing your lips.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that before,” Bucky said while watching you reach for an apple. Your body stretched to its length’s attempting to grab the second piece of luscious fruit. Eyebrow’s pushing together like storm cloud’s ready to break.

Until the branch suddenly lowered itself. Greedy finger’s happily snatching it from it’s home. Glancing around you bit deeply into its tender flesh. Your eye’s closing as it’s flooded your mouth. Suddenly the smell of metal and cologne hit your sense’s.

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky asked in a whisper. His finger’s gently pushing your hair behind your shoulder. The feel of his breath and lip’s so close to your exposed skin made you shudder.

With a breathy “Yes,” you succumbed.

He could taste the crisp apple on your lip’s as though he had taken the first bite. His tongue slowly invading your mouth taking in every inch of you. No space was left untouched, each moment your arm’s clasp’s tighter around his neck. Your heart beating rapidly at the sensation. Only the sound of a disapproving mother stopped the ardent lovemaking that would have occurred.  Rule’s be damned.

The feel of his arms’ around you tantalizing. Without thought, you handed him the half eaten apple which he proceeded to finish. That man’s mouth should be a sin.


Steve sat alone encased in his brown leather jacket. Blonde hair rustled by the breeze to create the perfect picture of masculinity.

Beside him sat his sketchbook, usually a source of joy. Now it lay empty and unused the ream of paper just as lonely.

“Buck,” Steve whispered dropping his neck against the wooden bench.  On any given Sunday it would be him and Bucky.

Bucky would be playing a pickup game of baseball while he sketched.  Granted it could be anything, and everything but Bucky was his favorite. There was something in the way he moved that drew the eye. It was the mixture between the predatorial assassin and charming soldier that never quite settled.

Now he sat alone on a Sunday wishing he were anywhere but here.


The ride back to Stark tower was tense. The salacious thought’s you had kept at bay managed to seep into your blood. Your finger’s delivering light touches only to retract back into a fist.

By the time you reached tower you both in a frenzy. Bucky’s hands cupped your face one arm outstretched to ensure you didn’t miss the door.  Lips ardently melding together. The taste of the apple pie and ice still lingered. A treat from the farm hand’s for being so entertaining.

“Welcome back,” Friday said upon reaching the top floor. Bucky and you both turning to meet a group of eyes.

Each of you desperately straightening up. The attempt at avoiding individual faces was abysmal.

“How was the apple’s?” Wanda asked sharply. Steve was one of her only friend’s, plus she’s old fashioned.

“It went fine, Wanda.” Bucky walking to the kitchen, coming back with two glasses of water.

“We should all go. The orchard has the most adorable dessert cafe. The best apple pie I’ve ever tasted!” Your excitement bubbling over the nerves.

“Sure. Maybe Natasha and I can bring Katie,” Hawkeye commented while fighting with the remote.

Out of the corner of your eye Steve quietly slunk from the room. A small piece of your happiness going with him.

Originally posted by buckypupbarnes

Prompt:  Could you write a Carter Baizen where him and the reader had a past and when he returns and she is surprised and he tried to get with her buts she’s with Nate so he tries to make her jealous because he can see she still had feelings for him.

Word Count: 1365


Authors Note: I really enjoy writing stuff with Carter lol

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Something that I never really thought about is one of the advantages I have when it comes to making good food choices. I have very few friends, who come to mind right now, who eat fast food another shity food. I have friends who drink but I don’t have any friends who “go out drinking”. I realize I have the privilege of working in the fitness industry so I’m surrounded by people who know how to take care of themselves. But even my high school and college friends I give my time to are active people. People I can sign up for 5ks, Spartan races with. Friends I can play a pickup game of basketball with or hop fences on private tennis courts with. I guess my point is maybe getting healthy would be easier for some of us if we surrounded ourselfs with like minded people who will respect you and your lifestyle. Not the friend buying you shots after you just told them you’re giving up drinking for 6 months. Or the one sending you photos of the new Lucky Charms donuts at the bakery. Maybe I’m just speaking for myself because I wouldn’t possess enough will power to care more about my personal health than what my “friends” think of me.