#i would love to repaint this in maybe a couple weeks

[vanillalore]

"the number of hours we have together is actually not so large. please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it." - mikko harvey

[not-neverland06]

Broken Machinery

Epilogue  (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: Roses symbolize forgiveness. 

 I started this story because I thought, if I actually want to start sharing my writing maybe I should start by writing something I don’t really care about. A throwaway story, so if people don’t like it, it won’t hurt me. Ten chapters later and 43.8k (and then some) words later, here we are. I love these characters, and its actually insane how the story developed. It felt like they were telling it through me, that it was the detective and Connor writing not me. I get what fanfiction writers mean now when they say it's hard to keep ‘Y/N’ a blank slate, it’s nearly impossible to stop a unique personality from growing. 

Thanks for making it this far, and thanks for taking care of them. 

“We’ve got to get you something other than flowers.”

“I have clothes.”

You groaned in exasperation. “Yeah! Hank’s clothes, because you refuse to let me buy you any, for some weird reason.”

Connor gave you a deadpan expression, “I like my flowers.” 

You waved him off, “I know, but I want you to be able to put your own touch on the place Connor. I don’t feel like you live here, I feel like you’re couch surfing.” Connor stood up from the couch and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. 

“I’m still figuring out what ‘my touch’ is, Y/N, just be patient with me.” You pulled away and frowned.

“I don’t mean to make you feel bad, Connor. I just want you to feel like this is home.”

Connor smiled and leaned down, pressing a quick kiss against your lips. He pulled back quickly, knowing it was too easy for the both of you to get swept up in your love. Hank would be coming over with Sumo and Carla for dinner soon, he didn’t need him walking in on you two again. The last couple of times were so embarrassing for you, you hadn’t let Connor touch you for a whole week. 

He rubbed his thumb across your cheek, he could never grow tired of staring into your eyes. “You are my home, anywhere you are, is home to me. I don’t need a bunch of stuffed animals or knick knacks to know that.” He smiled, “You were my home before I even knew what that meant.” 

Tears lined your eyes and you let your head fall into his neck, “This mascara is really expensive, do not make me cry.” He laughed and squeezed you tighter. 

“Come on, they’ll be here soon. We should set the table.” You nodded and managed to steal one last kiss before you went off to go set the table. 

Connor looked out the kitchen window, out towards the garden. 

He had ripped out all the weeds, repainted the fence and planted each of the flowers. 

A warm feeling filled him as he stared at his favorite, a lone black dahlia surrounded by roses. 

“Connor,” he turned towards you. Hank had arrived while he was staring out at the garden. Carla behind him, holding Sumo’s leash. You were all waiting for him. He left the dahlia behind and made his way towards you. 

Towards his family.

Towards home. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Detroit: Become Human, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[annakie]

Fixing The House Part Six: You Will Leave Some Paint

Part One: I Do Not, In Fact, Have the Power

Part Two: Let’s Spend Lots of Money!

Part Three: All These Things That I’ve Done

Part Four: I Really Want to Stay At My House

A little interlude.

Part Five: Power Down

Look, if I don't start really working on telling this, I may never finish. So I'm just going to start, and whatever comes out, comes out.

Doing this room by room probably would be smarter, but oh well. There's still NO room that's 100% done. I'd say at this point that there's still a good 5 - 7 full days of work ahead of Arturo and that's probably 2 - 3 actual weeks at this rate.

But things are definitely progressing. So let's go back to where we left off... kind of the end of the power getting fixed.

Uh yeah if I don't put a cut here, someone will cut me.

Part One: Living Color

As you can see in the pic above, and in a pic or two from the last post, a thing that had to happen on any wall on the edges of the house is that they had to cut into the drywall near the ceiling to be able to run the wire down to the outlet to fix it. So naturally that drywall had to be patched when the work was done, and then repainted. Just a part of the process. Cool. Up there is the guest bedroom and down below is the master bedroom with the patching done but not painted.

I had very smartly saved either paint chips or lids or even whole cans of the paints I'd used originally. I was able to figure out exactly who made and the name/tone of every color in the house except for one, which we didn't need anyway.

Remember guys, saving stupid stuff for 21 years sometimes IS helpful!

So Arturo went and got the paint for all the rooms, cool. He said now would be a good time to decide if I wanted to repaint any rooms but I was like nope! I like my colors! He got just quart sizes of most of the colors because that's all we needed.

...so anyway it turns out after 21 years (or even just 11 for a couple of the walls) paint changes colors so the new paint is definitely visible against the old paint.

At that point, we'd need to buy a lot more paint and repaint every room probably. The compromise was to paint just the full wall where the patching happened so the other walls would be slightly different.

There were also things like this:

Where that patching happened was just a very visible drywall line that had bothered me for 21 years. Arturo fixed it.

There were a couple of rooms that, tbh, just really needed new paint, and there were cracks in some walls that needed fixing. It started to just make sense at that point to just... maybe do full repaints of rooms. Arturo gave me a very reasonable price for that. Honestly, I think too little after seeing everything it took and how I made it harder.

I was super annoying at first though, and decided to keep some of the same colors, especially out here in the Office (which, remember, is the room most people would use as their living room) and the dining room, which were technically one big room except for one Thing, which we'll get to later.

So Arturo's crew repainted the office that dusty rose color that I loved. They also repainted the hallway, which really needed it, the same Silver Trophy you see above, which was also on the one wall that connected the office and dining rooms.

Um... hey... did you guys know that if you leave a massive framed Star Wars poster hanging in the same spot for like 21 years you can totally tell once you finally take it down?

Honestly I had no idea that wall was that dirty. It was just normally so damn dark in my house, tbh. Remember, I JUST got lights put in a week or two before this pic!

So yeah, that wall got a repaint, too.

I did decide around that time that the living room needed a repaint, partially because I didn't have a blue room in my house, and I felt like I wanted a room that was blue, and also just wanted my LR to be real damn cozy.

As a comparison... here was the before.

Some notes about this room lol... this is the room I camped out in during The Great Freeze, and starting then I nailed a blanket over the window and never took it down because I liked it dark in the room and also until the fence went up, that window looked right into my neighbors bathroom. Looked bad, but it kept the glare off the TV.

There was a big patch of drywall rubbed through from leaning my chair back and scraping the wall back when this smaller bedroom was the office. There was a big crack in a wall. There was also a recliner in there that turns out was made with the cheapest fake leather known to man that was constantly flaking off, very grossly. It was very crowded in there, and the recliner needed to go but I couldn't get it out myself.

So actually the day I spent working in the LR I asked Arturo to please get the recliner out, and they did.

Arturo ended up with a gallon of paint for the original color of this room (pictured) we didn't use because they mistakenly made that instead of the gallon for the hallway at first, but that was at least their fault.

It was around this time I was just like... fuckit, we're going to repaint the whole house. But at first, I thought, keeping most of my same colors.

My mind began to change, especially after the new color went on the wall in the living room. But I can't show you that yet.

Part Two: Cierra la puerta, por favor

I'd mentioned last post that there was a reason the sliding glass door from bedroom door to the patio got left open a lot.

That's because it was a really old, shitty door, and unless you knew how to close it just right it was likely to come off the track, and then it was really annoying to put back on the track. Also it was really freaking noisy every time you opened it. Like my neighbor on that side had complained about it before noisy.

It wasn't worth it for the workers to keep trying to close it every time they went in and out.

Also, the glass was so old that even with cleaning, it was never actually clear anymore. It was one of many, many things that were original to the house. Built in 1963.

So one of the earliest "Hey Arturo, can we...."s was "replace the sliding glass door?"

The price was reasonable, and the relief at knowing it would get done was surprising to me.

I think Arturo was almost as happy as me to get it replaced.

That's not Arturo, I think it's Antonio, removing the static plate of the door, I didn't catch them fast enough to see them removing the door itself.

And honestly I wish I'd taken a recording of the sound of opening that door before they removed it, though it will live in my brain forever.

The only picture I'll ever have of NO DOOR AT ALL. I was giddy at this point.

The first pic of... NEW DOOR. Oh my GOSH, so beautiful. I wanted to cry. You can see the pane of glass from the old door leaning against the pole out there.

Arturo brought me to see it the first time and was like "OPEN IT!" and I grabbed the handle and pulled, and NOTHING, lol. He was like "Is it stuck?" and then I pulled again and it moved and I said "IT'S SO HEAVY!" Arturo laughed and was like "Yeah, it's got twice as much glass, it's double pane!"

Like, look, I know, double pained (sp?) glass is the norm these days but my brain didn't even conceive that I could have double panes in my house until then. Oh, energy efficient double panes? WTF? In this house?!? Seemed sus.

I quickly got used to the new amount of force it took to open the door and marveled at how quiet it was after I opened and closed it a few times.

All the workers expressed their happiness that it was fixed, too, lol.

And later that night, it was still around 100 degrees outside, I was alone in the house and I just went and stood by the window and realized... it wasn't significantly hotter by the door than a few feet away from it? It was like, the same temperature? Like truly insulating, energy efficient? Is this the real life?

The new door is slightly (like 3") shorter than the old one so they did have to add a little padding at the top, they just don't make doors the same size anymore, but honestly they did such a great job finishing it, I wouldn't have even known if I hadn't seen it go in.

I loved that new door so much, so fast, that it really got me thinking... if I could have a new door, double panes, energy efficient... could it be possible for... other new... energy efficient things? We'll get back to that.

Part Three: Sea Salt

Just realized looking at the above pic that another change was visible...

I had started interacting with what would become my new best friend for the next couple of weeks, the Sherwin-Williams Color palate... what do you call it? Swatch book? My friend is still here with me, and I'm going to be sad when Arturo finally takes him away. We have spent many hours together the last month or so, I am very well familiar with all of his options and can pull up many precise colors in just a few seconds at this point.

A day or two before the door went in, Sherwin and I made our first choice together, the colors of the patio.

The ceiling would be painted Sea Salt, a beautiful, beach-inspired light green. I also decided to have Arturo paint my patio furniture the same color.

So early on, the ceiling got caulked. They also filled in the shitty job bits that Jose had done over where the roof met the house, it looked great, actually. And a day or two later, the ceiling was painted.

Hey, that's the OLD sliding glass door there!

OK so for the first day, NGL, I didn't love it? And I later realized it was because of that green paper you see there that they put up to protect the house. The paper made it look like the ceiling was just... white. I did not want just white.

Arturo said to give it a couple of days to think on it if I really wanted it a different color, he'd have to charge me for the new paint and labor, which is totally fair.

I realized when the paper was gone and you could see it against the white bits of the house, it was gorgeous.

OK even in that bottom pic, it's hard to really see the color, but trust me, you can tell it is not white.

Also, quick note, yes, the patio has looked like that OR WORSE every day since they started. The patio is the main work and stuff storage area. It's just... constantly in disarray, with good reason. Luckily Tuesday is Trash Day so Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning all the trash gets move to the curb and it's less chaotic, for a few days, lol.

A week or so later, the fan went up! Hey, this is a much better way to see the color!

The fan has to be on the same circuit as the other light on the porch, which is slightly annoying, you can't have one without the other, but it's fine! The fan is very pretty, and uh, look, I hadn't ever bought a ceiling fan myself, and especially not recently, and I didn't realize they were mostly remote controlled now? So it's got a remote next to the door to control it with. Neat!

That Ceiling Fan is the thing that started... the rest of this by the way. If it hadn't been for Joel suggesting we put a ceiling fan on the patio.. maybe the rest of this wouldn't have happened. Or maybe it would have, since the fuse box was dying anyway, but still, Arturo and I have joked about the consequences of that ONE FAN.

Anyway! Literally just today the patio furniture got painted! As you can a little bit see in that pic above and others, it was stained redwood stain, because that matched the wood on the old patio. Now...

Pic taken just hours ago!

OK it still doesn't look that green against the greenish color of the drywall it's sitting on, but it looks great, OK? I also bought grey cushions which will look good with them. The patio cement is obviously not painted yet, that'll be probably the very last thing Arturo does for me, for now. The color is picked out. When you see pics of that... it'll be done.

Part Four: I'm a Fan of this Fan

When that fan went up, Arturo and I had been discussing the dining room lighting situation, especially as it is the same room as the office, which had gotten the new recessed lighting.

Arturo was like "You know, the other fans in your house are very old. Especially the ones in your dining room and guest room. We can replace them, when we put in the recessed lights in the dining room. I have a ceiling fan that doesn't have lights that would look good in the dining room, I'll throw that in for free if you also buy a fan for the guest bedroom and we install that."

Friends, I just spent like 30 minutes scrolling through six or seven years worth of pictures and I could not for the life of me find a single picture of my dining room ceiling fan. I don't have many pics taken in my dining room at all but most of those that are, are like, specific things on the table, or in a china cabinet.

I was planning on posting "lol look at these 2003 pictures" when I started discussing individual rooms with big changes, but tbh, I'm just going to post a couple of those pics here.

These were taken in 2003 with a 2003 digital camera, so sorry that they're tiny and ugly.

So that's the best picture I can find of the ceiling fan... see? It is old and ugly and it was there another 21 years!

Oh, um, don't mind that Thing in the foreground of the first pic and background of the second.

We will discuss that Thing. Just not now. Now we're talking about ceiling fans.

I also invite you to scroll all the way back up to the top of this post (sorry) for a pic of the guest room with the ceiling fan mostly visible.

We'll get back to the dining room ceiling fan in another dining room focused post. Amazon Prime days were a key buying weekend for me, and during those I ended up buying this ceiling fan for the guest room. And then I liked it so much that it was still on sale a couple of days later, so I bought two more and put them in my Living Room and Master Bedroom.

Ceiling fans with remotes are amazing. These also have day mode and night mode for the lights so with one button you can go from bright blueish light to dimmer warmer light for night/early morning. Can also program them to shut off after 2 hours, 7 speeds of fan (though 1 is fast enough tyvm) etc. Absolutely love taking the remote to bed to shut off when I want without getting out of bed. It's a small thing, but important to those rooms.

Arturo said that all of the fans in my house were real old but the dining room one was especially old... he said it was one that was like, oil-based and very very heavy, lol.

There it is, sitting on a heap of trash... where it belongs.

Part Five: See a Little Light

Will leave this with one quick other thing.

Both sides of the house were real dark at night. There's a streetlight in the alley that shines right into my yard, which is great, it's otherwise really bright back there. But not the sides.

So I bought a 12-pack of these little solar lights. They got installed.

They work great!

There's something else happening in that last picture, but we'll get to that next time, I think. This is ridiculously long enough.

Annnnd we're just getting started.

[shortcrust]

Hello! I just want to say that I've long admired your writing style and am always so thrilled to see something new you post no matter the fandom! I was curious what your thoughts are on the expanded universe of your keep with me forward fic - do Eddie and Steve ever move back and closer to Robin and the kids? What does their life end up looking like!

Hello! First I would like to say that I cannot thank you enough for such a kind, thoughtful and generous compliment; I am so, so touched! Genuinely, I've been beaming for hours. I really enjoyed writing keep with me forward and I have a little festive surprise coming later this week, because I like to think it's a warm verse that suits this time of year, maybe. So hopefully you enjoy that!

As for where they end up! I think that in a couple of years the government eventually says, hey, you’re out the woods and not our problem any more, and Eddie says, great, thanks, I’m taking the house in the divorce. Maybe they stick around Waterloo for a bit longer; they like it, and they have friends there, and they’ve finally fixed the hot water. Eddie’s made manager and the pub stays the same only there’s music every weekend, just local kids with their angry new bands or aging dads with their old guitars from their old angry teenage bands. He only plays himself when they can’t get anyone else on the tiny stage, because he has someone else to sing to now. They learn to talk to each other, too. In the wintertime Steve learns how to put snow tyres on a school bus. 

I imagine that eventually they move. It’s sad to leave the pink house. (It’s still pink, even though they’ve repainted it several times, each a different shade - peach, watermelon, taffy and flamingo.) They’ve got good memories there. But the memories are friends sat on the floor, or evenings in the low light together, or burning food onto the kitchen equipment, and all of those can travel. The whole point of Waterloo wasn’t that Waterloo was unique, or special, but that unique and special things can grow wherever if you love them. 

So yes - maybe the next house is blue, and it’s down the road from where Robin’s sticking around UChicago to do a graduate thesis on 18th Century wind instruments. Maybe it’s yellow, right where DC meets Maryland, and they’re only renting there because Nancy’s doing a whole piece on the election and she can’t afford it on her own. I particularly like the one where it’s whitewash, a careful distance from Cambridge, MA, and sure Steve only collects a drunk Suzie from outside a nightclub at 2am the one (memorable) time, but in his eyes that’s more than enough for the whole place to be worth it. But maybe it’s just brick and has an awning and a downstairs bedroom for Wayne and it’s back in Hawkins, where they always seem to end up anyway so why not cut out the middle man. I think that wherever they go, afterwards, they know that you can make a home anywhere, with the right person, and also with - and within - yourself. 

[survey--s]

543.

Have your parents ever tried to control your relationship? No.

Have you ever had to give someone directions before? Sure, loads of times. I lived in a tourist village for ages and people were constantly asking how to get to various places, lol.

Speaking of which, are you good at understanding driving directions? I’m better at following road signs than reading a map.

How many people do you text daily? Maybe 2-3 people, but that includes text, WhatsApp and Messenger.

Do you have an iPod or an MP3 player? Which brand? I use my iPhone for music.

What was your favorite television show as a child? Arthur, Barney, Smurfs, Teletubbies.

Do you play any instruments? Which instruments do you play? Not anymore, but I used to have piano, recorder, cornet and guitar lessons.

Is there anyone who you call by their last name? Not anymore.

What did you do on your last birthday? It snowed pretty badly - I had a couple of cat visits to do and we got takeaway but otherwise that was it.

Which of the Seven Deadly Sins do you commit the most? Sloth, for sure.

Has anyone ever told you that you're incapable of whispering? Yeah, definitely. 

What is your least favorite subject in school? I always hated maths.

Have you ever been involved in a custody battle before? No.

Do you know a couple who constantly sucks on each other's face? Bleugh, no, thankfully not.

Who was the best kisser you've ever dated? My husband or Joshua.

When was the last time you watched a YouTube video? Yesterday. I watch quite a few TV series on there that I can’t find anywhere else.

Have you ever babysat a newborn baby before? No, just toddlers and up.

How many times a week do you usually see the person you love? We’re married and live together, so everyday, multiple times a day lol.

When was the last time you held someone's hand? I have no idea, I’m not a fan of hand-holding really.

How many meals have you eaten today, so far? Two - cereal for breakfast and a jacket potato for lunch.

Do you think it's stupid for people to call others "hot?" No.

Do you personally think Wikipedia is a reliable source? It can be if you check all the references properly.

Are you someone who listens to more girl or guy bands? A pretty even mixture of both.

Have you ever shopped at Wet Seal before? Did you like it? We don’t have that store here.

Do you care about spending money if it's someone else's money? I’m definitely more cautious if I know someone else is picking up the bill.

What is your favorite Disney movie of all time? The original Alice in Wonderland. 

When you were a child, did you ever want to become a wizard/witch? No.

What are the color of your walls? Do you want to repaint? The walls in this room are red and grey, the kitchen is cream, the bathroom yellow, the spare room is green and the bedroom is pale purple. Our bedroom, bathroom and kitchen all need repainting at some point.

Would you rather have hardwood floors or carpet? I love the look of hardwood + rugs but living where we do, carpets make much more sense as it gets so cold in winter.

Do you have any siblings you neglect you? I don’t have siblings.

Who would you say is the most selfish person you know? No-one in particular is coming to mind right now.

Who was the last person you yelled at? Why? The dog for eating cat shit lol.

As a kid, did you ever go to camp? Yeah, I had to go to day camp most summers and I absolutely hated it.

What were the last three movies you watched in theaters? I haven’t been to the cinema for years lol. The last film I saw was Cats but I can’t remember the ones I saw before then.

Have you ever made out in a movie theater before? Sure, loads of times.

Are you currently trying to learn to play any instrument? Nope.

Do you believe in ghosts, spirits or demons? I don’t believe or disbelieve in them.

When was the last time you went somewhere you thought was haunted? Never.

What is your favorite breakfast meal? Poached eggs on sourdough toast with avocado and bacon OR American-style pancakes with butter, maple syrup, bacon and blueberries.

What does the lead singer of your favorite band look like? Dead, lol.

Who was the last person to compliment you? I can’t remember, Suzy maybe?

How old were you when you got to go on your first date? Fourteen.

Would you call your parents over-protective or under-protective? My dad was definitely over-protective, my mum got the balance about right.

Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls? Sure. I remember our local garden centre had one of those for some reason and my dad used to take me there on rainy weekends a lot.

What is the best movie you've seen in the last five years? I honestly couldn’t pick just one.

Has anyone ever called you a good kisser before? Sure.

Have any of your siblings ever had a crush on your significant other? No siblings.

Are you the jealous type? Everytime I’ve experienced jealousy it’s been for a valid reason.

Does life ever seem overly ironic to you? Ha, definitely feels that way sometimes.

When was the last time you felt like you were high on life? I honestly don’t know.

Do you know someone who cares about themselves more than their child? Yep, lots of shitty parents out there unfortunately.

Do you still watch cartoons on television? I watch The Simpsons but I don’t really watch any kids cartoons.

What do you usually order at Taco Bell, if you go there? The nearest Taco Bell is hours away - I’ve never been.

Is there anyone currently annoying you? Just how humid it is. It’s giving me a headache.

What's your favorite hairstyle you've had so far? Meh, my hair doesn’t really do decent hairstyles lol.

Do you have freckles? I have a few on my nose and cheeks, but they’re not very noticeable.

How many dogs do you have, if any at all? One.

Have you ever witnessed someone being beaten up? Yes.

Do you think biting is weird or sexy? I mean, it depends on the circumstances.

Would you rather be called hot or beautiful? Beautiful.

[suckitsurveys]

Are you one of those lucky people to own a walk-in closet? Not in the apartment, no. but it’s sufficient enough. I had one in my bedroom at my dad’s that he had custom made for my sister when it was her room. It was HUGE and I never had enough stuff to fill it.

Is there a random object you own that has a huge personal significance? A lot of things. I am a sentimental person.

Do you use Google? Yes.

Would you like to go swimming right now? I’m always up for swimming.

Can you play electric guitar? Nope.

Do you have an HDTV? Yes.

When was the last time you drank something through a straw? A few minutes ago.

Have you ever tried to teach yourself a different language? No.

What do you think makes you unique from others? I don’t know.

How long was your last phone call? Just a few minutes.

Do you need to repaint your nails? Yes, they’re so chipped. I’m finally getting a mani tomorrow tho!

Has there ever been a horoscope that came true for you? Sure.

Are you a fan of industrial metal? Eh.

Are you one of those people who chew two pieces of gum, not one? I mean, if I find the piece too small, then yeah.

Do you have a wall calendar? I do. I have one at work and one in our kitchen.

Have you ever taken the pictures from a calendar and used them as posters? Yes, I have a couple from my old BoJack calendar.

Can you handle the cold? Yeah, for the most part.

Have you ever been to Canada? Yes, when I was too small to remember it.

Do you believe in superstitions? I’m just a little stitious.

When was the last time you took a taxi somewhere? I took a water taxi on the river to Chinatown and back a couple weeks ago .

Would you ever join the army, air force or navy? Nope.

How old is the person you last kissed? 39.

Is there a friend that you can always rely on to get you out of a jam? I mean, I don’t really get into “jams” that often and if I do I can usually get myself out of them.

What was the most embarrassing thing you’ve had to buy? I’m not sure. I don’t recall ever feeling embarrassed by any purchase I’ve made.

Have you ever tried to balance the light switch between off and on? Maybe when I was a kid.

Do you believe in ghosts / supernatural occurrences? Somewhat.

Have you ever mistaken a person’s gender? I'm sure it’s happened, but not where I’ve said it to their face.

What was the most expensive thing you’ve broken? My car.

Has anyone texted you yet today? Nope.

Did you stay calm during the whole swine flu scare? Yes, which is why I also didn’t initially freak out over Covid, because I thought it would be handled.

Is there a light on in the room you’re currently in? Yes.

Are your feet touching the floor? Yes.

Have you ever been in a car accident? Just a minor fender-bender.

Do you usually make back up plans? Not usually.

Can you focus well in high-stress situations? Sometimes. It depends on the situation.

Without the aid of mascara, do you have long eyelashes? Nope.

Is there a kind of music you listen to that helps you release your anger? I don’t really listen to music when I’m angry.

Are you one of those people who keep their feelings bottled up? Sometimes, around certain people.

Is one of your friends extremely odd but you love them regardless? I'm only friends with weirdos.

Is there anyone you dread going into public with? Yeah, my brother in law.

Are you a victim of writing run-on sentences? I do that on twitter sometimes just as like, a stream of consciousness.

Graffiti: an art or an act of vandalism? I have no issue with it at all.

Do you buy things online? Yes.

Are you easily frightened? Yeah.

Do you have a favorite model? Nah.

Have you ever watched Titanic? Yes.

What’s your current facebook display picture of? Me in the dells a couple weeks ago.

How about your IM display picture? I don’t really have an IM? I use Facebook messenger and twt and IG dms.

Is there anyone whose hair you envy? Not that I can think of.

Would you act in a movie if offered a role? Sure.

Does speaking in front of people make you nervous? Yeah.

Can you read in a moving vehicle or does it make you sick? I haven’t tried it in a while but it used to make me sick.

Have you ever dated someone who was extremely shy? My husband is shy, but I wouldn’t say “extremely.”

Or have you dated someone who took things too fast? Nah.

Does the idea of driving 220 mph sound exciting to you? Not that fast, no.

Everyone has a weakness, what’s yours? Food.

Do you or anyone you know have an account on Deviantart? I don’t.

Thoughts on the Dunkin Donut commercial that says “America runs on Dunkin’”? Whatever?

Do you bother buying movies on DVD anymore or do you just download them? I usually stream them.

Do you listen to Daughtry? No.

Do you get your eyebrows waxed? No.

How do you take your coffee? Iced with some sort of flavored creamer.

If you have a dog, what breed is it? -

Do you make up nicknames to refer to people you don’t like? Hah, I’ve done that.

Have you found someone who makes you unconditionally happy? Yes.

Do you have a friend who always seems to be dying their hair? I’m the friend that’s always dying their hair lol.

Would you swap names with a friend? Nah.

Do you plan on going to university? I already did.

Guys who wear muscle shirts, yes or no? I really don’t care.

Are you a fan of Carrie Underwood? I don’t hate her.

Do you make playlists on iTunes? I do on Spotify.

Have you ever forgotten someone’s birthday? It’s possible but I am usually pretty good with birthdays.

Are you scared of being left behind? No?

Do you remember your last dream? Nope.

Do you know someone who is an obsessed Star Wars fan? Yes.

Is politics something you don’t care about? I care about them in general. I like to be informed and I vote and I am passionate about issues and such, but I DO NOT want to fucking discuss them with people, even people I agree with. It’s so draining and boring.

What’s a movie/tvshow/book/series that is way overrated? Super hero movies.

Do you think Barbie presents an unhealthy image to young girls? Not so much anymore.

Is there a pet that you desperately want? I’d love a dog some day but I could also live without ever having one.

Would you ever get your bellybutton pierced? Nope.

Are you musically talented? Nope.

Have you ever shot a gun? A bb gun.

Do you have a friend that always changes their mind last second? Eh.

Are you not afraid to voice your opinion? Depends on the situation. I’ve learned to shut up around certain people because it’s just not fucking worth it.

Are you one of those people who are always pushing their limits? Nope.

Is there a word that you will always find humorous? Probably, but I can’t think of any right now.

Do you frown upon immature people? Depends on the situation and their level of immaturity.

Have you ever slipped on ice and hurt yourself? Yup.

Do you try to have an intimidating impression? No.

Living in the big city or chilling in the country? I am used to the city but I wouldn’t mind a country setting.

Do you pity women in history who had to wear corsets? Yes.

No one seems to obey the legal drinking age, do they? I’m sure there are people that do.

Do you like your country’s flag? No.

Have you ever made a totally amazing snow fort? Yup! A couple winters ago I constructed one with my nieces and it was REALLY cool.

Do you use Bounty Paper Towels? We’re a Brawny tear-a-square family.

Are you the one usually behind the camera or the one in the picture? It depends, but usually behind.

If you get married, will you have a traditional wedding? We went to City Hall and then celebrated at a waterpark lol. Neither of us likes being the center of attention, so a traditional wedding was never on our minds. It also seems like a giant waste of money and a lot of unnecessary stress to me.

Do you feel your slowly losing one of your friends? No.

If you draw, what’s one thing you always have trouble with? I don’t draw.

Is there someone you know moving away any time soon? No.

Do you ever go on Tyra.com? Nope, never heard of it.

Allergic to anything? Some medication.

How many cars have you owned? Three. Might have to get a new one soon if they can’t fix my Escape.

What are you going to do after this? Work and maybe another one.

[septembersums]

𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝑫𝒂𝒚 11 | 𝑩𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑

| MINORS DNI | taglist | masterlist | wc: 3.6k ~ | art credit |

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

summary: you’re learning the well-deserved aches and pains of moving in with gojo satoru. he’s learning that he likes your domesticity, maybe a little too much.

content: | body worship | soft!gojo satoru | fluff | smut | shower sex | painting | domestic stuff | angst | breeding kink | unexpected creampie (for both of them really) | overstimulation | multiple orgasms | facefucking | facials | squirting | established relationship |

an:: i haven’t written a domestic or nice gojo in agessssss but today is the day to start apparently! also dear god all of my fics are going to have a breeding kink thing please just accept that for what it is

| ao3 | discord | twitter | main | kofi | 

House hunting with anyone is difficult, but house hunting with Gojo Satoru was an entirely different beast that you never realized you'd have to deal with. A six eyed one, who is hellbent on spending a small fortune on a house for two people.

"What about this one?" He asks, turning his phone screen over to you.

On the screen is a listing for a goddamn mansion. 8,000 square feet, three stories, eleven bathrooms, a movie theater, an arcade, the list goes on. It looks like a celebrity home for a family of about... fifteen people.

You give him a concerned glance, "Satoru, that house has thirteen bedrooms."

"Yeah," he answers, confirming it enthusiastically, "and a pool."

You resist the urge to laugh, "Let me rephrase... Why would we, as two people, need a house with thirteen bedrooms? Babe, that's basically a hotel."

"What if we have twelve kids?" He asks, giving you a serious expression, even though a smirk threatens to tug at the corners of his lips.

"We are not." 

He continues, cutting you off, "God forbid Satoru the eleventh and Satoru the twelfth have to share a bedroom. They'll kill each other."

"No. Okay," you sigh closing your eyes, "I love your enthusiasm, but I'm not playing the hypothetical game with you because it never ends, and--"

He cuts you off with a kiss, chuckling against your lips. His arms encircle your waist, pushing you down onto the couch beneath him as he shifts himself on top of you.

"I don't know why you wanna raise our fourteen kids in a shoebox--" he says, kissing your neck between his words.

"Fourteen now?" You ask with a gasp.

"Fifteen. But okay, I'll look at regular houses, too," he concedes, running his hands up underneath your shirt, "not tonight, though. God, scaring you gets me hard."

"What a concerning thing to say-- ah!"

He's already snuck his hand into your pants before you can argue, and as per usual, neither of you picked a house that night.

Eventually, you were able to talk him down to something slightly more modest, more fit for the two of you (and just the two of you, not the fourteen or fifteen babies he proposed you have).

It’s not that you hated any of the mansions that he offered to buy, it’s just that you’d like your home to feel a little more homey, a little less easy to get lost in. 

When you bought your house in the city (still extravagant, of course), and wanted to repaint a couple of the rooms, Satoru already had professional painters on speed dial. When you suggested that the two of you do some of the renovations yourself, he looked at you like you’d shot him in the chest. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” you say, “this place needs some character, and I’d be embarrassed if a bunch of strangers saw the sex swing.”  

It does need character. Right now, it looks like you bought it right out of a better homes magazine. You feel weird when things are too pristine and too manicured, like you’re living in a model home. 

Having a team of professional renovators moving in and out of the house for the next few weeks seems less than ideal, too, considering that you and Satoru tend to fuck like rabbits day and night. 

“I can’t think of anything less fun than manual labor,” Satoru argues, wrapping his arms around your waist, “and if they ask about the sex swing, I’ll just tell them you put me in it when I’m getting on your nerves.”

“Oh, really? Why don’t you go get in it now then?”

His grin widens, “You mean it?”

You elbow him gently, furrowing your brows before continuing what you were doing before he intervened to bug you. You’re holding up two different paint swatches against the wall of your bedroom, unable to decide which looks better. 

“Which one do you like more?” You ask Satoru, whose chin is propped on your shoulder. 

He hesitates for a second, “... Those are exactly the same color.” 

“Huh?” You gasp, turning your head to look at him, “What do you mean? They’re, like, two shades different.” 

They’re both close to white, but slightly different shades of white. One is more cool toned, the other is slightly warmer. You picked them out at the store earlier, so you’re sure that they aren’t the same.

“Baby,” he hums, wrapping his hands over yours, “not to pull rank here, but one of us has the best eyes in the world,” he pries your thumbs away from the bottoms of the slips of colored paper, “and the other one has been trying to choose between moonlight white and moonlight white for half an hour.” 

You audibly gasp when you realize that he’s right. Printed at the bottom of the slips of paper is exactly the same name, twice. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you, because you could’ve sworn you were looking at two different shades this entire time. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You rasp, dumbfounded, “and... how did I not notice?” 

“I thought you just needed to see it twice for some reason,” he replies with a shrug, laughing, “it’s been a long day, let’s just go to bed.” 

You concede after that, seeing as it’s already past midnight, and standing here clearly isn’t doing you anymore favors than riding him in your new bed would.

The next day, you start painting a couple of the rooms together. And while Satoru eventually agreed that he was willing it give it a try, that never meant that he wouldn’t whine the entire time. Which he does, because of course he does. 

Satoru is many things: he’s the strongest sorcerer in the world, he’s the (self-proclaimed) best teacher in the world, he’s also hilariously fucking bad at housework. 

It makes sense that he wouldn’t really know how to fix a sink, or paint a wall, or hook up a t.v. His childhood was spent surrounded by servants, while he spent his time outside training, and fighting, and training, and fighting. 

Put him in the ring with the greatest martial artist of all time, he’d win. Put a paint roller in his hand, and he just squints at it for a good thirty seconds before handing it back to you. 

He doesn’t know how to be domestic, and at this point, he’s afraid to learn. But he’ll do it for you-- at the very least, he’ll give it a try for you. 

Letting you call the shots right now is the least he could do, after making you wait ages for real commitment from him, after getting panicky and distant when you spent the night for the first time, after you’ve loved and taken care of all of the jagged parts of him that are so incredibly, irreparably broken. 

Maybe it’s out of some fear that he’ll eventually lose you, too. Maybe that’s why he tries all these normal, domestic things with you that would never cross his mind if you were anyone else. Maybe that’s why he wanted to buy you a fucking mansion in the hills, or a castle with a moat in Scotland. 

If it would make you happy, he’d do it. Anything and everything, all for you. 

But painting a wall that’s already off-white to moonlight white? It’s so insufferably boring that he contemplates tearing all of his hair out and mixing it into the paint, so that he’d at least have something stimulating to do. 

The only thing he likes about this task is that he can hear you humming to yourself in the other room, some song that he barely recognizes. You’ve played it in the car before, but he can’t remember the name. 

Frankly, that’s where the majority of his mental energy is going right now, not towards these tedious up and down strokes, because you said that side to side strokes were wrong for some reason. 

He floats down from the corner of the room where he’s been levitating for the past twenty minutes, finishing up a corner, and when he looks at the little tray on the ground, he gets an idea that you’ll (probably) hate. 

You’re lost in thought, daydreaming about how the kitchen would look with new countertops, when Satoru seems to appear out of nowhere, looming over your shoulder and blocking the light from above. 

“Fuck! Oh my god, you walk so quietly,” you hiss, after looking over your shoulder and noticing him. 

“You missed a few spots,” he hums thoughtfully, looking over your work. 

Your eyes shift back toward the wall, now searching desperately for missed sections. Certainly, he can see them better than you can, but you don’t recall missing anything yet. 

“Where-- Oh, what the fuck!” You hiss, as his big hands grip your asscheeks underneath your shorts while you were focused elsewhere. 

That wouldn’t normally be a problem, because of course Gojo cannot keep his hands to himself, but they’re wet and cold. 

He laughs at your screech, you whip around to look at him, “is that paint? Why?!” 

“Painting is so fucking boring,” he complains, smirking at your protest, “getting to put handprints on your ass is my reparation.”  

And then he takes his (indeed, paint-covered) hands, and pulls you against his chest, again holding your ass as he does so. 

“Gojo, you have some paint on you,” you murmur, trying to hold back a grin, as you swipe your own painted thumb along his cheek. 

“Oh, really? Do I?” He asks sarcastically, smirking as he backs you up until your back hits the wet wall that you were just working on. 

You gasp, as the cold liquid seeps through your shirt and gets into your hair, and he only leans down to kiss you smoothly. In spite of yourself, you kiss him back, not fighting as much as you should when he hoists you up by the backs of your thighs, wrapping them around his waist. 

“I just-- ah-- finished that wall,” you breathe between frenzied kisses.

He’s grinding his hardening length against your core, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth, “Do you wanna finish on it, too?” 

“Shower-- oh, god, fuck--” you hiss, as he takes to sucking at the skin of your throat and pulling your shirt up and over your head, “so you can touch me without getting paint in my--” 

“Say less,” he rasps, before warping rather than walking to the master bathroom. 

He sits your ass on the sink, using his infinity to turn the water on while he undresses the both of you hastily, still kissing you with desperate need to be inside of you. 

When his cock springs free from his briefs and slaps against his abs, you start stroking him in your palm, listening to the stuttering gasp that escapes his lips when you run your thumb over the sensitive tip. 

You lean down to kiss his neck, his clavicles, his chest, as you leisurely stroke him in your palm, and he kneads the fat of your ass. Your run the flat side of your tongue over the scar that extends down the center of his chest-- it always makes him shiver when you do that. 

He’s picking you back up before you can make it to his cock, practically throwing you into the shower with anticipation. 

There’s a bench in the shower, big enough for you to comfortably sit on, and Satoru all but pushes you down onto it, “Open,” he demands, tapping his cock against your lips once. 

“Are you desperate today, Satoru-- oh--” 

You try to tease him, but as an opportunist, he just takes the momentary openness of your mouth as a chance to slip inside of it, moaning with relief when you run your tongue along the underside of the head. 

“Just fucking suck it for a second, baby,” he rasps, threading one hand into your hair as the other is pressed flat against the wall where he braces himself, “just suck it-- just like that, just like that-- god, you’re so good.” 

The muscles of his thighs twitch, betraying his desire to thrust his hips forward and make you take the rest of it down your throat. He’s so long that it’s difficult-- if not impossible-- to do so. Especially on a day like today where he’s so obviously need and excited, and he’s harder and thicker than usual. 

You swallow around his length, looking up at him sweetly as you bob your head up and down him. 

“Let me fuck your face,” he asks hoarsely, looking down at you for permission as his hips involuntarily flex forward, “just for a second, you can do it for a second. You can take it, baby, you can take it.” 

You aren’t so sure, as tears are already welling up in your eyes, but you do as he asks anyway, hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat as much as possible. He starts thrusting, really thrusting, and holding your head down until it’s at the base of his cock, while he fucks into your throat and moans wantonly. 

“Fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me-- god, you’re gonna make me cum,” he warns, before pulling out of your mouth abruptly. 

You close your eyes and open your mouth, you stick your tongue out and wait for the couple of seconds that it takes, because you know Satoru, and you know that there’s almost nothing he loves more than cumming all over your face. 

“Oh--oh--ooh,” he moans, holding your tongue out of your mouth even further with his thumb, as he cums onto it, “oh, good girl, good girl.” 

He hits your face, too, before eventually just grinding the underside of his tongue through the puddle of cum in your mouth. He feeds it back to you slowly, murmuring praises as he watches you swallow it all down. 

“Pretty baby,” he purrs, as he cleans your face off before kneeling down to kiss you and taste himself, “now let me clean you up and make you cum really hard, yeah?” 

He kisses the entirety of your face, from your forehead to your cheeks to your chin, as though he’s saying thank you for letting him wreck your throat. And he does exactly as promised. 

He cleans every part of your body slowly and reverently, partly because he wants to show his appreciation for you, and mostly because he can see the way your thighs are squeezing together, and you’re dying for him to just lick you already. 

He licks you, though not in the spot that you need him to. No, he licks and kisses your earlobes, your neck, the inside of your mouth, your shoulders and arms and hands. he kisses your chest, between your tits, the underside of your breasts-- he kisses a line down the center of your stomach, even though it tickles. 

When he reaches the bottom, your legs spread involuntarily, and you push your hips outwards. Satoru smiles up at you wickedly-- he knows you need it, that’s why he’s making you wait. 

That’s why he sucks your nipple into his mouth and massages your other breast, before switching sides and doing it all over again. Before long, you’re moaning whenever his hand brushes your thigh, he doesn’t even have to get near your pussy. 

“Please, need-- please, I need you to--” 

“I know what you need,” he hums, as he lifts you up and kisses your lips languorously again, turning you away from him, “and you can have it, baby.”

He bends you over at the waist, making you place your hands on the bench you were just sitting on, as he kneels between your legs. He runs a slow finger along your slit, noticing that the wetness there is different than the water. It’s thicker, creamier, tastes like you when he presses his finger into his mouth. 

Satoru kisses your asscheeks, before dipping down between your legs to where you really need him to be. His tongue is slow and lazy, as he licks between your folds and across your clit, dipping inside of you experimentally. 

You moan and struggle to hold yourself up already, as he sucks and kisses your clit lovingly, presses two fingers inside of your needy hole. If there’s one thing Satoru is good at, it’s eating your pussy. 

As in, the first time he fucked you, he licked and kissed every inch of you until he figured out precisely which spots made you cum the hardest, which ones made you cum the fastest, which ones made you squirt, and then he never forgot the key that he made for your body. 

Satoru can drag an orgasm out of you when you don’t want one, but when you do... You’re crying and clenching around his fingers, you’re rocking your hips back onto his face as he tongue-fucks that one spot that gets you there so well. 

The way he licks your pussy is worship for Satoru, it’s love and dedication and adoration, because he’ll please you until the end of the world if you want him to. Maybe he’ll even do it if you don’t want him to. 

You’re spasming and creaming on his tongue once, and then he doesn’t stop, he overstimulates you until it happens again, and then again, and then when he’s almost finished playing your body like a virtuoso would a piano-- he makes you squirt, just to prove that he can. 

He stops after you’ve fallen apart so many times that you’ve lost count, and your knees buckle. Of course he catches you, chuckling as he holds your spent body up with his muscular arms. 

“Think you can still ride me, baby?” He asks to tease you, knowing fully well that you can’t even stand up right now without some assistance. 

“No, nonono, need a break,” you respond, laying your lax body against his hard one. 

In the end, he dries you off and takes you to bed, he lays you down on your stomach. And then he massages your spent body for a long while, rubbing your arms, your shoulders, your back, your thighs, your ass...

A good long while, it is, before he stops resisting the urge to run his fingers along the slick surface of your cunt and notice that a string of cum connects the two. 

He’s hard again, just like that, so fucking hard that he can’t stand it. 

“Baby,” he purrs, asking your permission as he slides his cock between your asscheeks, desiring the friction, “you’re dripping again, like you want me to put my cock in you.” 

“Please,” You ask, somehow still so aroused after every other orgasm he’s given you, “Mm, want you to make me cum again-- please, please-- oooohhh, fuck.” 

He’s already sighing in relief as he slips his length into you. Satoru loves it when he has plenty of time to warm you up for his cock, because you’re so smooth and pliant and accepting of it afterwards, and even after a good four or five orgasms, you still clench and whine and shake, because your pussy is so, so sensitive. 

So sensitive, and so wet, and sucking him in so fucking good, and you’re so fucking hot-- and, god, he loves your ass. 

Satoru slaps it once, watching the fat of it jiggle as he fucks into you. He grips your waist, leaning down so that his forehead is pressed pressed between your shoulder blades. You’re keening and whining, fingers gripping the sheets for dear life as he rolls his hips into yours again and again. 

“’M gonna-- Gonna cum-- Satoru, can I-- Please--” 

“Cum for me, baby, cum for me-- wanna feel it, wanna hear it, wanna see it-- cum on my cock-- yes, fuck, there you go-- that’s it, that’s it-- let me hear it.” 

You do let him hear it, and see it, and feel it, and he can practically taste it when he’s buried so deeply inside of you. Your muscles constrict, your breaths stagger, and you bite down on the pillowcase to muffle the cry that you let out. 

Satoru loves the feral side of you that he sees when he’s fucking you from behind, and you can barely take it. He loves it so fucking much, he loves you so fucking much-- sososososo fucking much. 

So much that he needs to show it to you, needs to give you his love with his body and let you accept it and carry it and bring it to life. 

For the first time in your relationship, Satoru can’t find it in himself to pull out of you before he cums. No, not today, not right now. You’re practically begging to have his fucking babies, loving him like you do. 

Your body needs his babies-- with your wide hips, and your soft smile, and your pillowy tits. He needs to fuck a baby into you, and he doesn’t know why the thought’s just now occurred to him when he’s balls deep, buried inside your cunt.

Like a man gone mad, he rambles, “Baby, I need to—need to— fuck, I need you. C‘mere— Come here. I’m gonna—“

He grabs your ass and hoists your hips upwards, his own hipbones slam against your lower half, and he moans out every syllable of your name as he fills you up with his seed, fucking every last drop of his cum into your cunt, a sign of adoration, a sign of love. 

As soon as he loosens his death grip on your hips, your knees buckle, and his cum spills out of your pretty pussy. Satoru pushes it back into you with his fingers, eyes transfixed on the sight of moonlight white cum dripping out of your pussy.

“Did you cum inside me?” You ask, hoarse, out of breath, and likely confused, considering that he’s always been on top of his pullout game. 

“I said sixteen kids, didn’t I?” 

tags: @septembersummer | @violetsaffron5 | @blackdxggr | @lilithlunas | @mimizsworld | @km7474 | @lemonlover1110 | @levixbby | @nobody298x | @dont-ask-me-please | @watyousayin |

[sexy-opium-ravioli]

Dating Marceline HC's

-Hey babes!! These dating HC's have NSFW under the cut, so be warned!!! Hope y'all enjoy :)

Dynamics:

Marceline... She has trust issues.

In any universe where she takes a romantic interest in you, she and Bonnibel didn't really work out.

And for a pair that's curated their relationship over the span of decades, perhaps even centuries? Well, that's some leftover hurt.

So you might come into the picture long after that. For any timeframe, Finn might be in his late forties? Jake, however stretchy, still had the lifespan of an average dog. Had.

Marceline doesn't really believe in rebounds and for awhile after the relationship with Bonnie ended, she flew solo for awhile.

Until she stumbled upon you.

At first, things are real cautious on both sides.

Who?? Is this weird goth lady that literally never touches sunlight?

And on her end she just thinks you're a beam of sunlight, so. There's kind of an oil-water reaction happening.

Slowly, however, over a span of years, things bleed together.

You guys hang out in the vast reaches of Ooo every so often, maybe hang out at each other's house later on.

Marceline learns your interests and hobbies. You learn her love for red, singing and playing the bass.

Eventually, you guys have sleepovers and giggle under forts. She introduces you into her group of friends, Finn, Jake, Peppermint Butler. The sleepovers, of course, grow in size.

Eventually, she invites you to one of her concerts. Usually they're mid sized venues at the cemetery with pretty good turn outs, she's had centuries to build a reputation, after all.

You've never went because she treated it like an intimate thing to behold, and although she performed for others, she never did for you.

Until she gave you free tickets.

That was the main turning point in your guy's relationship. After it started, Marceline still held a lot of that caution.

But she'd give you little smiles, or float over to where you were and interlock her fingers with yours and nuzzle her head in your neck.

Marceline, no matter how moody or boisterous she seems to outsiders, is someone who is kind of reserved behind closed doors. Eventually, she opens them for you.

Remember to be patient with her. Even though she's hundreds of years old, really a millennia, she still has the brain chemistry of an older teenager. Sometimes her emotional processing isn't the best, so it's important to walk her through things patiently.

She loves you dearly. She'll give you small hints of her perception- your favorite type of drink that's stocked up, moss on the porch that you said needed cleaning is already gone when you get home. Things like that.

Romance:

Marceline, the Vampire Queen, does in fact like making out with you. It's one of her favorite things like, ever. Ever ever.

It's just very calming for her, knowing that the person she loves is in her arms. And even though her insecurities might tell her that they'll leave eventually, she finds that in the moment, she has them now.

It was your guy's three year anniversary. Not even a speck of time to Marceline, but she knew that tonight would feel special anyways, because it was you she was celebrating, as you celebrated her.

So, she spruced the house up. Sent you away for a couple of days (who was she kidding. She didn't even try for a cover story, she just sent you to the treehouse for nearly a week), and employed the help of some friends to freshen things up.

Repaint the walls, fix some furniture, help out the porch, put up string lights. Things like that. She even put up pictures of the both of you on her wall, all thanks to BMO.

When it was time for you to finally come home, it was like looking at a house that was just built a thousand years ago. It held an ancient air to it, but it felt young at the same time. Like Marceline.

You stepped in the door, and there she was. Your love, with a feast for a dinner in the middle of the dining room. She looked lovely, her hair up in a bun and her eyes adorned with eyeliner. Not too much changed, but just enough to be formal.

You two sat, and ate, and talked together. Grocery shopping plans mixed in with 'Glob, I love you so much,'s and handholding.

Eventually, Marceline has a look in her eye. A twinkle that says she's up to no good, but you'll like her antics anyways.

She walks over to you. She kisses you, and with all the sparkle in her eyes, she bends down on one knee and holds out a simple wedding band from her pocket.

Of course you say yes.

(And then she starts making out with you).

NSFW:

Not surprisingly, Marceline has had a lot of time to herself to explore her anatomy and the anatomy of her partners. And even though every partner is unique when it comes to their sex preferences, still still notices things across the board that help.

It seems like with a flick of her fingers she can get you to cum, it doesn't take very long.

But where's the rush? Where's the fun?

What I'm trying to say is that this woman is into edging and orgasm denial and you will have to fight me on this-

She just loves taking her time with you. Getting you riled up for hours before giving you what you desire.

You also cannot tell me that she likes giving you bites. Especially on the neck, shoulders, wrists and chest.

What does she prefer? Well, considering how little control she's had in her life, she might like some in the bedroom. She likes telling you what to do, when to do it, and I feel like she genuinely prefers anyone who's obedient. She craves for things to run smoothly.

Sometimes, she does step down for you to give her hours of pleasure. These are rare occasions, but still very memorable.

She's very playful and kind of sarcastic in bed, but she's also extremely sweet when the moment calls for it. Marceline can make you cry with words.

👏DO👏NOT👏TELL👏ME👏 that during aftercare she doesn't sing in your ear while she's cleaning you up or feeding you chocolate covered strawberries. Don't tell me. I will not listen nor will I perceive.

All in all, Marceline is an extremely complex but rewarding lover who deserves the world.

[blind-band-geek]

I crave Máximas Matanzas/Talía and Paolo hcs because these blorbos plague my mind :,>

Máximas Matanzas Hcs:

• The band has a very family dynamic, atleast with Talía and Paz. She sees him as a younger brother she never had. And while he wants to be something more with her he’s fine with her calling him hermanito every chance she can.

• In turn Paolo is like Paz’s stern older brother. He isn’t much for nicknames and only really called him ‘Bicho’ because Paz had asked him. But if Paz asked Paolo would call him hermano.

• They have whole days dedicated to remaking merch. They’ll pile in Paz’s home and have shirts and stencils and paint all across the floor. Music will be blasting and they’ll definitely not be sober by the end of it. Defect shirts tend to be more adored by fans anyway.

• Each member has their own MM shirt. Talías is covered in blue paint and handprints and is wore and teared into a crop top, just how she likes it. Paolos is just simply an oversized sleep shirt and Paz cut his for the back panel for a jacket.

• When not in the immediate danger of battle the three can often be found on Paz’s deck high sharing whatever Paz got from his dealer that week. It’s some of the more gentler nights at camp when the three are laughing and telling stories. It’s a good break up from the day to day stress of the war.

• Talía happily refers to Paolo and Paz as ‘her boys’

• Many times when Talía ‘fights’ with Paz or Paolo she’s overstimulated and stressed and will be lashing out because she needs the conversation to end so she can go to her room and breathe. Paolo is good at recognizing this but has to sit Paz down and explain autism to him. Their always there for eachother no matter what.

• If Paolo is away Talía will cuddle up with Paz on the couch as they share the same pair of earbuds hooked up to his phone. It’s his way of telling someone he loves them.

• Though Talía is a photographer herself Paz loves to take photos of the couple around camp. One of his photos was even repainted for an album cover. Most are posted on social media because nothing brings in more fans like a relationship.

• MM is very alive on social media and all three members has access to the main account while having side accounts for personal use. You can always tell who’s posting by tone. Paolo is a little more dry, Paz posts a thousand and one exclamation points and Talía will more often be interacting with fans and posting behind the scenes content (and borderline simping over her boyfriend.)

• They also together bully FND generals, María and really anyone they can on social media, it’s a game of how many burner accounts they get banned before they get a reaction out of them. It’s fun for them to get stoned and tag María in thousands of messages saying she sucks. Is it a bad look? Maybe, is it funny as fuck? YES

Talía and Paolo Hcs:

• Paolo and Talía share EVERYTHING, food, clothes, hell they’ll even share the same joint/cigar at parties

• They both would take one hit of their shared joint/cigar and kiss eachother while giggling how gross them other tastes.

• They are very touchy especially after Talía was kidnapped, Paolo is extremely protective of her. They’ll always be holding hands, cuddling, and when sitting Talía will always be nestled in his lap. Physical touch is very important for both of them.

• They have a hight difference of about half a foot or so with Talía being much shorter than Paolo. But it really just makes her perfect little spoon size.

• Talía will steal Paolo away from his work quite a lot to spend time with her alone. And when he comes back he’ll always have a myriad of lipstick stains on his face and body. Only wiping them off when people point them out.

• Talía is the more outgoing and excitable of the two, making her a little more popular with the fans but him more loved at camp. She’ll rarely do alot of work instead hanging off Paolo while he takes care of projects and finances around the camp. She just makes sure he dosent overwork himself like he’s use to doing.

• Talía has some major ADHD and Autism and can and often dose get distracted by the smallest things but Paolo can always bring her back to whatever their doing with a kiss. (His favorite way of doing so). And if he kisses or touches her just right she’ll squeak or squeal happily. It’s one of his favorite things about her.

• He can always tell when she’s in a good mood if she dosent tell him he can tell because she’ll rock on her heels or play with her hands until she can wrap herself around him. Everytime she sees him in a good mood it’s like little stars glow in her eyes.

• Paolo also has a touch of the tism and despite being a DJ has very sensitive ears in terms to loud noises. His headphones have a noise canceling feature so he can de-stress after shows while his girlfriend happily signs things at stagedoor.

• Concerts often get intense for these two, a lot of emotions are in the lyrics, and music, and air. So often if the FND doesn’t break up a concert the second they are off stage they’ll be all over each other. It’s clear what their up to backstage because Paz will hurry out and tell the fans the two are …. Busy …. And probably won’t be out for the night.

• Talía has a tounge piercing, use your imagination.

• Talía also has naturally sharper canines than Paolo, she’s very proud of them and just thinks their a badass feature of herself. Also use your imagination.

• They will make frequent visits back to Fort Baleceras to sit on the roof of the crumbling building and watch the sun set across the ocean. It’s quiet and so far from the rest of Yara that they like to pretend their the only people on the island.

• Talía and Paolo only really fight when their stage personas clash. They rarely scream at eachother and their ‘fights’ are just disagreements that end in someone walking away and then making up (and making out) later.

• Talía also try’s to keep her stage persona on around her people to try and seem strong and cool and collected, but it often just ends up with her lying down exhausted on her bed. Her being angry and agressive is her form of masking and is exhausting. She belives masking is the only way to survive and for her it was for a long time. After being shot she masks less and less as time becomes more precious to her and life seems different.

• Talía also is very freaked out by death. She will kill if she has to for saftey but kills like María sent her into a spiraling state. She will cry if she has to watch people get shot or killed. Even in the war she never wanted to kill anyone, all she wanted to do was create music. That’s why having a trained soldier like Paolo is so good for her. He can keep her safe and protected and close her eyes when he has to shoot someone.

• Paolo doesn’t mask often because his base personality is that of a soldier. He’s cool and calm and will tell you if your pissing him off. But he dose need his time to recharge.

• They are EXTREMELY domestic, more than anyone would imagen. She’s often the one helping shave down Paolo’s undercut and sides while he got taught by her how to braid her hair. She can do it herself but Paolo took the initiative to learn and she was more than happy.

• They make sure to block out time for eachother in their day to day lives. Be it, cooking breakfast, afternoon nap, dinner, proper date or just cuddling together in their little nook behind Paolo’s deck with the music lowered. Just little things to destress from life.

• The little nook behind Paolo’s deck is THEIRS no one is allowed in it. It’s got Paolo’s guitar and one of the more comfortable couches in the camp. There they will often nap together or simply lay down and take in each other’s presence as someone scrolls on their phone telling the other news or showing them cute pictures.

• Clara got her obsession with Polaroids from Talía. She loves taking photos to make sure she remembers everything. She loves to print out her favorites (or uses polariods) and scribbles dates and names on them so she remembers exactly when and what happened. (Adhd fucks with her memory and especially after the academy she has some memory problems.) and if she forgets to take a photo Paolo will do it for her.

• They both have easily thousands of photos of each other in their phones. Talía has more photos of them together while Paolo has cute photos he took when Talía wasn’t paying attention. He always comments that she could be a famous model if she wanted to be. She always giggles and thanks him for his complements. He truly belives she’s the most gorgeous woman in all of Yara.

• When they met he was still in uniform as he looked specifically for clothes in Talías apartment. She was armed (with no bullets) and she freaked out when she saw him. But he looked so broken down and something about his eyes encapsulated her. It was truly love at first site.

[aftqrglow]

hi write more dad!bucky headcanons please and thank you

there u go

BELLA I LOVE THIS???? IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG MY LOVE I HOPE YOU LIKE IT <33

pairing: dad!bucky x reader

word count: 1.1k

summary: just a bunch of headcanons about bucky with his children

warnings: babies; mentions of pregnancy; i think that’s it? otherwise, its pure fluff

a/n: i've never written headcanons before dhajdjjss i'm sorry if this sucks. i’ve talked about some of these on here before, but i added them here anyway. 

Let's get this out of the way: Bucky is the best dad ever.

I mean, you thought you always knew he was going to be a great father. He's a literal angel, after all. But when you had your daughter, Marigold, you realized just how amazing he really was.

Bucky took care of everything. From waking his little girl up for school every morning, getting her ready and even making her breakfast. 

He would often let her hook her arms around his metal arm and lift her into the air, the sound of her laughter filling the home you had built with the love of your life.

Bucky used to be insecure about his arm, once. About the scars that littered his shoulder like constellations in the sky, the vibranium shot through with gold. And while you had managed to rid him of most of these inhibitions, he still wore his gloves when he dropped Mari off at school.

That was, until the day Mari dragged him to meet her friends

"Look, guys," she said, with the biggest grin on her face. "My dad has a robot arm. How cool is that?"

Bucky damn near teared up at the look of pride on her face. Because how could his baby girl ever be ashamed of him? Her father was a hero who had saved more lives with that arm than he had taken, even if he forgot that sometimes.

When Mari decided she wanted to be a nail tech, he bought her a full kit just so she could practice.

Of course, she chose her dad to be her model.

Bucky walked around for weeks with his nails painted painted pink, waiting until the nail polish was chipped so bad he had no choice but to ask Mari to take it off and put on a fresh coat.

Seeing your husband with your daughter, you were completely unafraid to tell him that you were pregnant again.

You had never met a man capable of giving as much love to everyone around him as Bucky was, after all.

Bucky was overjoyed when you told him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up into the air and spinning you around, laughing like a child.

And when you found out that you were having twins—there's no way to put into words how delighted he was.

Just as he had when you were pregnant with Mari, Bucky took care of everything.

Only this time, he had Mari to help him.

The two of them repainted the nursery together. One of the walls was left the yellow-splattered orange it had been painted previously—for your Mari's name. One was painted a midnight blue for your daughter, and another a mint green for your son.

Brainstorming names was somewhat of a challenge. Bucky, of course, had two names in mind, but he was unsure of how you would react to them.

That was, until you brought it up yourself.

"I think we should name the boy Steve," you said one night, as he got ready for bed. "And our girl—Rebecca. After your sister."

Bucky froze.

"Are you sure, love? We—I know you had a lot of names in mind, but—"

"They were two of the most important people in your life, Bucky. Of course I'm sure."

The first time Bucky held Steve and Rebecca in his arms, he was shaking. Never in his life had he expected that he would have not one, but three beautiful children.

Three children with your hair and his eyes.

A family he would live and die for.

Mari was the most enchanting older sister. She read to her siblings every night, clambering into the crib and lying in between them, careful and gentle in a way most six-year-olds aren't.

As they got older, little Steve's fascination with his dad's metal arm grew.

He would draw little stars on the vibranium with white dry-erase markers, then rub them off with his thumb.

Steve never failed to boast about how his dad was a superhero to his friends at school—to the point where Bucky was bombarded with little boys asking to touch his metal arm every time he went to pick the kids up from school.

Becca, meanwhile, never let you do her hair. "I like it better when dad does it, Mommy."

And so Bucky did her hair every morning, sleeking those strands back into a silken braid, securing the ends with a black hair-tie that had threads of gold running through it.

"To match Dad's arm," Becca had grinned when she had asked you to buy it for her.

Eventually, Becca decided that if Bucky braided her hair, it was only fair that she braided his too.

It started one morning as Bucky was getting ready for school, when she told him that he was doing her hair all wrong and proceeded to climb up on the bed and put a tiny little braid in her dad's hair.

Of course, Bucky wore it around for the rest of the day.

The braid, coupled with his nails painted pink, thanks to Mari, subjected him to Sam's ceaseless teasing.

He didn't care, though. His heart swelled in his chest every time he glanced down at his nails or his fingers brushed the braid in his hair.

To the point where he grew his hair out again, just so Mari and Becca could braid it.

Of course, Steve decided that he wanted long hair too when he saw his dad skipping haircuts.

In fact, Steve even insisted you braid little sections of his hair like his sisters did for his dad.

It didn't matter to him what the boys at school said about his hair. If it was good enough for Dad, it was good enough for him.

Sam was bewitched by your children too. It was hard to say who was more excited to see the other on the weekends, when choruses of, "Uncle Sammy!" broke through the house every time the doorbell rang.

Spending Sundays at your house became sort of a tradition, as did spending holidays on Sam's boat.

Sarah's sons were enamored with your children. The five of them were inseparable, running around the docks, dodging Sam's neighbors who had now come to know the Barnes family all too well.

Bucky had never really imagined that he would ever know peace like this: with a family that he wasn't going to lose this time.

With friends he was sure wouldn't leave him behind.

He had never allowed himself to hope for it

But as he watched the sunset over the waters, sitting next to Sam with a bottle of beer in his hand, the sound of your laughter mixed with his kids' filling the air around him, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he had done something right with his shot at redemption after all.

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if you would like to be added to my taglist, just send me a message or an ask off anon!

[astaroth1357]

Hey, I love you blog and content! It’s awesome! ❤️❤️❤️ Could you write how the brothers would deal with an MC that swears a lot?

Brothers with an MC Who Swears a Lot

I get a bit of a potty mouth myself, but mostly when I'm playing games... 😅

Lucifer

Quick! Somebody fetch his pearls!! 😫

Not a fan of the constant swearing at all. If they want to add emphasis to their words, that's one thing, but why throw out a candid curse every time they need to breathe…? Is that really necessary??

He's tried every punitive measure he could to get them to stop, short of just wiping their memory of what swear words are. No dice. Even the swear jar he started had enough Grimm in it to pay off Goldie by the end of a month...

Makes sure they say as LITTLE as possible when talking to Diavolo. He will NOT be saddled with that kind of embarrassment! Have some self-control! 😠

Mammon

Well he's not that much better with his own potty mouth so he sympathizes, but he usually doesn't get that sweary unless he's mad. For them, that looks to be their default…

Doesn't really complain about the swearing, even if he does notice it though.

Being around them so much actually starts making him swear more, so unfortunately he starts getting into trouble with Lucifer too…

Was practically drawn and quartered when he came into a Student Council meeting shouting, "What's up, bitches!!" without thinking. His freakout afterward made Diavolo laugh, but Lucifer wasn't amused… Poor baby... 😬

Leviathan

Actually thinks their swear-filled gamer rage is really entertaining, top streamer material!! They can come up with some pretty fun insults too.

"What the hell is wrong with this guy!? My ass cheeks could shoot better than this motherfucker and he's not even worthy of kissing them!! I hope you have an old man cock the size of a raisin, grandpa!!" 🤬🤬🤬

He can get a little crass too, so if they’re both on the mic then watch out. They'll trade insults so colorful they could repaint Las Vegas...

Outside of games, though, he doesn't mind how much they cuss. As long as they show the proper amount of reverence to his favorite shows/characters they can make the censor "bleep" go overtime for all he cares.

Satan

At first, he thought it was pretty uncouth but sort of expected that kind of behavior to come out of a human of all things...

For the first week, he considered trying to at least teach them some less blunt swear words… Maybe a couple from other languages or something 🤷‍♀️

But THEN he saw Lucifer nearly blow a gasket on them at the dinner table from just their language alone…. Oh yes. 😏

Now Satan swears is JUST as much as they do when Lucifer's in the room, though he still can somehow make it seem almost elegant. Like the auditory equivalent of "Good morning, motherfuckers" written in fancy embroidery. Stay classy, Satan. 😌

Asmodeus

Oh honey, swearing THAT much isn't very attractive… He thinks they come off like a grizzled sailor, but without the sea-hardened sexy parts so it’s just disappointing… 😔

About the only other person in the House who can claim to be not a fan of the constant cussing. Though it doesn't piss him off like Lucifer.

He's more hesitant to take the MC places because of their… verbiage. It really just depends on the kind of crowd he's meeting. You're not getting into the Ristorante Six like this sweetie. 🤨

If they're willing to try letting up a little bit then he'll be much more forgiving. There's a difference between being a little loose with their words and actively being crass just because. If he knows they're making an effort, then he won't let it get to him as much.

Beelzebub

To be honest, the sweet boy hardly noticed for a while.

He knows what swearing is, he just doesn't really pay that much attention to people's word choice. He only picked up on it after Lucifer pointed it out directly.

After that, he tries to be an informal language coach of sorts because he doesn't want Lucifer to get too mad at them… No need to poke the bear over this, you know?

It's REALLY hard not to be more mindful of their words when they have a worried-looking Beel trying to remind them to keep it clean… Bless his heart. 😭

Belphegor

Into it. Full stop. It meshes very well with his chaotic energy and it pisses off Lucifer so that's just a bonus.

Likes to purposely provoke them or get them riled up so they'll swear more and LOUDER. Everywhere! Any time! Who cares if there are kids around??

He will do everything in his persuasive power to convince them to go full sailor in front of Diavolo as much as possible (especially if it's at a meeting in front of everybody). Chaos reigns. 😈

Now loves to drop the causal f-bomb in conversation and blames the MC as his bad influence. How could Lucifer let some little human corrupt his poor, sweet baby brother?? Perish the thought! 🤭😏

Check out my Masterlist!

[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.”

+ + +

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[aeonmagnus]

Happy 20th Anniversary Robots In Disguise!

This year, and today in particular, marks the 20-year anniversary of Transformers Robots in Disguise airing in the United States.  This was the official English language dub of the Japanese show Transformers Car Robots, which aired in Japan the year before.   This show and it’s accompanying toy line were a big shift in the Transformers brand and affected how things moved forward in the new millennium.  It was also a big influence on me and this website in it’s early years, so both the brand and TFW2005 may not be what it is today without it.

We hope you will read on after the break to check out our celebration of Robots in Disguise on it’s 20th!

Intro

The following is not a comprehensive article on the show proper, but rather a trip down memory lane from my personal perspective.  It was a period of change in my life, in the fandom, in the brand, and in the world – all happening at once.  Robots in Disguise was smack dab in the middle of it all and I think that’s why it still resonates with me all these years later.  For a deeper dive into the world of Robots In Disguise you can check RIDForever.info, a site I maintain just about RID and Car Robots. The 2021 updates are here, and the 2017 round of updates are here.  I’d also suggest checking the TFWe issue all about RID over on the 2005 Boards.  Now, onto today’s festivities…

The Show

RID, and yes I say RID as if it is the only RID.  If you must reference that other RID show and it’s off-shoots, refer to it as RID 201x, thanks. 😊 RID aired during the Fox Kids programming block on a Saturday morning, with additional episodes set to air each weekday during the afternoon hours.  Instead of stretching the show out over the course of 30+ weeks with only a new ep each weekend, they were going to blaze through it non-stop.  By the end of the first week, we would have been 7 eps in.  That however hit a big roadblock due to 9/11 just three days later.  While some local markets did air the episodes, many larger city networks, and especially east coast markets, stuck with news coverage.   Many of us did not catch the early episodes on TV the first go around.  In addition, several of the episodes got pulled from TV due to depictions of buildings being destroyed and other similar visuals which understandably could upset children that just experienced 9/11.  So right off the bat, the new millennium and new era of Transformers were dealing with a new reality.

The show, for those that don’t know – was a weird one-off in Transformers history.  We had G1 and then the G2 remixes for a bit.  Beast Wars came on the scene and ran all the way through 2000 with it’s successor – Beast Machines.   During the Beast Wars era – Japan did a couple of their own Beast Wars shows, non-CGI extensions of what we saw in the US.   Their market wasn’t quite ready for full CGI so they stuck with traditional anime.  When Hasbro decided to continue Beast Wars into Beast Machines, Takara went a completely different way – a traditional animated show which brought back Autobots and “Decepticons”, mixing them in with the beasts.  They focused the toys on a couple new and complex molds, then filled the rest of the line with repaints of previous toys.  Old 2nd tier Beast Wars toys, G2 Laser Prime, and even some Generation 1 molds in the form of the Combaticons got new life as new characters in this show, capped with the biggest TF of them all at the time – a repainted G1 Fortress Maximus, now Brave Maximus.  It was the prototype for what the Transformers brand did for years to come – repainting old toys into new characters.  Universe, Classics, Botcon, and even some Generations runs used this method to give us some great toys in the 00s.

While there is a very complicated and long explanation for how every single Japanese show is one continuity, to someone casually starting with Car Robots it was a refresh, a new story, a new arrival on Earth.  The Autobots vs the Predacons, and eventually the Combatrons/Decepticons. It was a hard cut from the last 5 years or so of CGI Beasts.  Hand drawn traditional animation featuring vehicle Transformers.  It wasn’t G1, but many of the folks who grew up with G1 were just getting out of college around this time.  They were rediscovering their childhood love of Transformers through Beast Wars, flea market finds, raids on their parents’ attics and basements, and for the internet savvy – imports of Japanese reissues from Takara.  It was a perfect storm of nostalgia; a return to Autobots and Decepticons was welcomed by kids and adults alike.

RID and TFW2005

In the years leading up to Car Robots, I was just getting into the internet, coding, design, some digital music, and all the possibility that came with it.  Beast Wars, especially when it hit Season 2/3 and the inclusion of G1 lore, really got me focusing on Transformers again as a hobby.  I eventually combined the two newfound hobbies into one and Transformer World 2005 was born.  At no point did I ever think it would last 20+ years and take over my life in the way it did.  I started the full version of TFW2005 around April 2000, with some starts and stops before that.  That was right around when Car Robots started airing in Japan.  Through the magic of 56k internet, I was able to connect with folks in Japan and get them to send me VHS tapes of Car Robots.  Really nice, high-quality tapes too, I still have them hehe.  To the younglings reading – try to picture this: no youtube, no video sharing. The concept of streaming anything did not exist yet. Napster and the eventual peer to peer stuff hadn’t fully kicked off.  Plus, we were all viewing the internet on giant computers in our rooms at the speed of 1x on your phone.  Less than 1 bar 3G mobile speeds today.

Yes, someone recorded episodes from TV to video tape over there, did that a couple weeks at a time, then physically mailed them across the world to me, who then got them on the internet.  Can you imagine waiting weeks to watch an episode of TV the size of a twitter profile avatar?  Crazy.  Uploading a full episode to the internet was a big pain in the ass, not easily done.  I decided to get a converter that allowed me to plug my VCR into the computer and encode the tape into digital format.  From there, it was reduced using Microsoft’s WMV technology so that the episodes were about 5 MB each.  30 minute episodes at 5MB each. Dimensions – 176 x 144 pixels.  4k video today – 3840 x 2160 pixels.  You can imagine that video looked like crap.  But we didn’t care – we were blown away.  Old school animation, vehicles, some cool Japanese anime vibes, it was what we as G1 fans kinda had in the back of our heads on what Transformers should be in a new era, and we were seeing it.  Most of us had no clue what they were saying or what was going on.  Also didn’t care.  I still to this day think CR/RID is better like that.

So one of the first things TFW2005 did on the internet was provide these super small windows into Car Robots and what was going on in Japan. It helped get US fans hyped up for what Transformers could be. It got us wanting the toys, and importers bringing the Takara toy line over were moving serious product.  It helped swing Hasbro, who was planning to return to Autobots and Decepticons again down the road, to move that schedule up.  Instead of running Beast Machines until 2002 and then starting what we now know as the Unicron Trilogy, it was cut short.  Robots in Disguise as a toy line and show came over in 2001, ran fast and hard for a year with non stop releases, got extended because it did so well, and then faded into the Universe line of repaints.  The new millennium of Transformers was here and Robot In Disguise kicked it off with a bang.

Wrap Up

As we all continue with collecting Transformers now, regardless if you tagged into the fandom during G1, Beasties, the Unicron Trilogy, the Movies, or just yesterday – let’s take the time to give Car Robots and RID some props!  It set the tone for what the new millennium of the brand would be.  It gave us some toys ahead of their time.  It solidified the repaint as an accepted thing in the hobby. And it gave us one crazy 39 episode run of TV that’s still a fun ride 20 years later.

For those that would like to learn more about RID and Car Robots – I still maintain a Robots in Disguise website that archives everything I have or came across.  There is a lot there if you want to go on a tour of all the awesome Car Robots and Robots In Disguise era stuff.  Check it out at RIDFOREVER.INFO! FIYAH!

Let us know what you think and remember from the good old days of RID on the 2005 Boards here!

Epilogue

If someone over there at Hasbro is reading – can someone please figure out who owns the rights to the show in the US market and then get it out on DVD in full, finally?  Work all that funky licensing stuff out (if there is any) and get it done.  The US has never had access to it via an official release.  Maybe get it up on YouTube like G1?  Something.  Announcing plans for that before the end of 2021 would be a nice 20th anniversary tribute.

[nfltrd]

03.29.22 - Entry 6

I feel each day getting a little better. I’m trying my best to manifest the things I want. Whether that be through praying, dreaming, talking aloud to myself, or just in quiet, passing thoughts (it all has the same result imo).

I find I’m happiest when I’m creating. I try to do as much of that as I can at my office job since I do run the social media pages. I think Canva might be one of my new favorite hobbies lol. 

I’ve also been wanting to get more serious with my book centered social medias (bookstagram, booktok, etc). I even created a blog site on Square Space for all my book reviews and TBR, etc...not knowing it was $180 a year of course (facepalm). I’m debating on just spending it, honestly. I mean if I can spend that much on clothes in one sitting, why not spend it on an activity I enjoy instead. I’d get more use out of it that way, at least. I would use Tumblr if I liked the format a little more, but Square Space has such amazing templates and I love the one I made and don’t want to give it up. Maybe after my next paycheck comes in...

I’m going look at a couple houses this week. They’re out of my price range, I think, but have some structural damages that may allow me to knock off a good chunk of the price (fingers crossed). I would actually love to buy a house that I could remodel and update and sell for more down the road. Currently there’s a mid-century modern home for $220k that has foundation issues and does need a good updating. I love this style of home and I’m hoping the foundation problem really isn’t so bad to the point of being unfixable. I would love to take the time with repainting and decorating it to my tastes, and I even have a Pinterest board already set up for inspiration. I get so excited when I find homes I actually like because then I don’t really mind going into debt for it (nervous laugh). 

Anyways, I have a busy week ahead, but not much to write about I don't think. I have a casting with a local boutique tomorrow afternoon, and a meeting for a videography job for a big fast food chain on Friday. Wish me luck and prayers! If I am able to get this job it’ll be one of the biggest I’ve done. May God be by my side.

Fingers crossed.

[insomniamamma]

“Surf City Goodness”: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/n: This is the same AU as “Ferris Wheels Are for Old People” and “Liminal” but you don’t have to read those to read this one. Ezra loses his arm in an automobile accident which kills his brother, Damon and orphans his niece, Cee. Reader lives across the street from Ezra and they’ve been friendly for sometime but now it’s something more. Set after  “Ferris Wheels Are For Old People” This is for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ and @clydesducktape​ ‘s Writer Wednesday.

Warnings: Language. Mentions of sex. Mentions of drug abuse.  Mentions of traumatic injury/surgical scars. Mentions of Reader’s ex.  Cee needs her own warning, but mostly this is just fluff. Ez and Cee and Reader enjoy a trip to the beach. I will include some songs from Cee’s playlist at the end.

          Iggy Pop's voice warbles out of the speakers. "I wanna go to the beach, I don't care if it's decadent, I don't know where my spirit went, but that's alright..."          "This seems a bit bleak, Birdie," says Ezra.          "Quit your griping, you'll get your surf city goodness soon enough," says Cee and grins. Part of the deal they've worked out is that Cee gets to pick the music for any road trip longer than two hours, otherwise it's NPR until the signal fades and then whatever classic rock they can pick up. The three of you are crammed in the cab of Ezra's battered Ford Ranger. Cee is the smallest so she sits in the middle. The truck's bed is full of gear, air mattresses and sleeping bags and towels, a cooler filled with food and another filled with beer. I don't know what conditions we'll find exactly, Ez told you, We haven't been back here in some time.          "If there's spiders I'm sleeping in the truck," you said and Ezra smiled, and pressed his remaining hand over his heart.          "Never fear, Sunshine, I will protect your from our arachnid friends."

         "Hey Sunshine!" Ezra calls from his front porch. You look up from your laptop to see Ezra and Cee laden with grocery bags.          "Hey, Ez, you need a hand?" He smirks. This is an old joke between the two of you. When Ezra first came home, with Cee and without his arm, they were unloading Cee and Damon's things, bags and boxes and you, without thought had asked if he needed a hand, it just came out and you'd clapped your hands to your mouth, and then spluttered, I'm so sorry I didn't mean--and Ezra laughed, of course I need a hand. I'm down to just the one.          "Always," he says. You loop the plastic bags over your arms, sweating packages laden with ground beef and bratwursts and chicken thighs.          "You all having a party?"          "We're going to the beach," says Cee. "You should come with us. It'll be fun."            "Jesus, Cee," he mutters and then collects himself and smiles, "I had meant to ask you before this one jumped the gun-"          "It's fine. Really."          "You still working remotely?" asks Ezra.          "For now. There's some talk about keeping my department remote."          "Good thing or bad thing?"          "Good thing," you say, "I like working in my pajamas."          "Good thing because you could come with us," says Ezra.          "Ez--"          "I'm dead serious," he says, "Cee's got a four day weekend. We've got decent internet. Damon saw to that before...well, before. Mind you, this will probably be something of a working vacation. Ma's house has stood empty sometime. Damon used to keep it up but..." Ezra trails off. It's a small town. Damon's drug problems were more or less public knowledge. You think of the files you still need to edit, but for once you're ahead of the game. None of that is due until midway through next week. You've got some wiggle room if things go south.          "Yeah? Yeah, fuck it. I'm coming with." Ezra smiles wide, revealing his dimples. And that's how you end up in the cab of Ezra's beat-to-shit truck listening to Cee's fun and somewhat baffling playlist.

         "Talk to me, baby,I'm goin' blind from this sweet, sweet craving, whoa-oh, Let's lose our minds and go fucking crazy, I-I-I-I-I keep on hopin' we'll eat cake by the ocean..."          "Is this a parody?" Asks Ezra, "Like a Weird Al Yankovic thing?"          "No," says Cee, "It's an actual song. One of the Jonas brothers did it."          "Someone greenlit and recorded this on purpose."          "Yep."          "A song. About eating cake on a beach." Cee gives you a sly look.          "It's a metaphor, Ez," she says, "They're eating something but it's not cake." You have to hold in a laugh, watching the gears in Ezra's brain grind, watching his eyes go big.          "Ohmygod! Cee!" Cee cackles and you snort laughter. "You are fifteen years old! You are a minor child! You should not be going there! You should not even know that there exists!" Ezra's cheeks go red. Cee is wheezing, eyes screwed shut with laughter, her own cheeks flaming, "You. Should see. Your face," she says.          "It's not funny!"          "Oh, it's funny," you say, "She got you good."          "Come on, Ez," says Cee, "You think I can't recognize a poorly veiled sexual reference when I hear one? It doesn't take a genius--"          "You are a terror," says Ezra, and Cee grins, proud of the title, "And you--" he arcs and eyebrow in your direction--"Are not helping matters." You give him your brightest smile.          "What can I say? I thought it was just a song about some goofballs eating cake by the ocean." He huffs, but you can see the smirk creeping up his cheek as he drives.

         The house at the end of the driveway is small, a cottage really, single storied and built up on stilts like the others around it, painted a faded robin's egg blue with white trim. The garage is underneath the house, room enough for one car and next to it is a room built to shelter the water heater and plumbing. A wooden staircase snakes up to a deck that wraps the entire structure. Sea grass sprouts in clumps from the sand. It's hot inside, a stale heat, and the first thing you do is open all the windows.          "I think there's a couple box fans in the storage space," says Ezra, "I'll go fetch them."          The back deck overlooks the ocean, pale expanse of sand and the gentle lap of blue-green sea, a wooden staircase reaches down to the sand below. The day is bright and hot and shot through with high cirrus clouds. You and Ezra have stripped the sheets from the beds and popped them in the washer, loaded the dishwasher, put fans in the windows.          "This is cleaner than I expected," says Ezra, "Maybe Damon cared more than I gave him credit for." Ezra's face clouds. You take his hand, squeeze his fingers in yours. You know little about Damon other than the town gossip and what Ezra himself has told you. You don't understand the convolutions of their relationship, you just know that Damon is a slow-healing wound, and that it does Ezra no good to pick at it. You tug at him.          "C'mon. Let's get changed. Cee's already got her suit on."

         "Turn around, Birdie, let me get your back." Cee rolls her eyes but does as she's asked. Ezra sprays sunscreen across her bony shoulders and rubs it in.          "I found a boogie board under the deck," says Cee, "And some toys from when I was real small. I found those floaty things you all used to put on my arms, remember those?"          "I do," says Ezra, "Damon chucked you into the surf without so much as a by-your-leave. It scared the hell out of Ma but you laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. You're good to go, Little Bird."          "Thanks, Ez." And she's down the stairs, heading towards the surf.          "Your turn, Sunshine," he says and you turn your back to him. He presses a kiss against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, that one place that makes you squirm and shiver, right on the line between erogenous and ticklish.          "Menace--" you say and then squawk when the cold spray hits you, soothed by the passage of his calloused palm across your shoulders, gently gripping the nape of your neck, and you lean back against him briefly, relishing his solidity, his warmth, his hand rests lightly on your hip.          "Let me get your back," you say. Ezra turns his back to you and shucks out of his t-shirt. He's already ditched his prosthetic arm. Don't know how seaworthy it is, he'd said, as expensive as it was I don't care to find out. You shake the can of sunscreen and blast him with it.          "Christ! That's cold!"          "We gotta make sure Cee reapplies after a couple hours," you say, smoothing your hands over his broad back, relishing the slide of his tanned skin beneath your palms, "She'll burn to a crisp otherwise." You press your fingers into the tight muscles of his neck and he makes a contented sound like a purr in his chest.          "You're always so tense right here," you say and dig your fingers in, feeling the thrumming muscles loosen somewhat under your touch. Ezra leans back into you as you did to him moments ago, your arms snake around his shoulders, tuck your face against the side of his neck. This thing with you and Ezra is soft and languid and you're not sure how to define it. This is not the fevered, clawed territory of young lovers, the sort of push and pull you had with your ex, the idea that love had to keep proving itself somehow. With Ezra there is nothing to prove. He seems content to ride this gentle wave, to let things play out in their own time.          "Turn around," you murmur against his skin, "Not done with you yet."          "Now, I am perfectly capable of applying--" he starts, but you see his eyes drop, and know it for what it is. You've known Ezra for a while. The two of you were always friendly, since you moved in across the street from him. Ezra before was even more exuberant, had a swagger about him, confidence in his own skin that is only just now trying starting to return. Ezra before would preen under your gaze if he caught you looking at him while he repainted his deck or put down mulch in his garden, Ezra now shrinks from your eyes. You can see the self-doubt seep in. The worry about his scars, that the loss of his arm makes him less, somehow.          "I know," you say, "Maybe I just want an excuse to get handsy." He arcs an eyebrow at you, that brief flash of doubt replaced with his more familiar smug smirk.          "Well, have at it, by all means," he says. You spray him with the sunscreen and start rubbing it in, smoothing over his freckled shoulders, down his upper arms, mindful of the tender skin at the end of his stump, the dips of his clavicles, his broad chest, littered in angry pink scars that shout in contrast to the rest of his skin. Punched indentations along his ribs where they'd stuck in tubes to drain the air and blood out of his collapsed lungs. You work your way down along his soft belly and back up his sides, a hissed intake of breathe and you stop.          "Does that hurt?"          "Nah. Tickles."          "Mmm-hmmm. I'll have to remember that so I can use it to my advantage later."          "Oh and I'm the menace," he says, his arm curls low around your hip, pulling you nearly flush with him, and you complete the motion, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him tight against you, your chin notched over his shoulder. Cee is creeping up the stairs with a battered plastic bucket in her hands. She shoots you a grin and you know exactly what she has in mind. You back up a little, cup Ezra's stubbled cheeks in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose.          "Surprise," you say and take a big step back. There's just time enough for that little furrow to start between his brows and then Cee dowses him, a whole bucket of seawater poured directly over his head. He splutters. His eyes go big and round. Cee is doubled over laughing.          "Oh," he says, blinking salt water out of his eyes, "Oh that's it. Today's the day, Cee! I am going to drown you!"          "Gotta catch me first, old man!" says Cee and pelts down the beach. You run after them, their bright laughter peals through the warm summer air. Ezra grabs Cee and dunks her into an oncoming wave. She emerges splashing great fans into Ezra's face.          "It is only proper that I took my vengeance," says Ezra, holding his hands out to deflect the spray.          "I don't think the Geneva conventions apply here, you douche-canoe," says Cee.          "Oi! That language--" This is your opening. You grab Ezra around his waist and push off backward into the oncoming wave, pulling him down with you. The two of you come back up, coughing and laughing, arms slung around each other. There's no shadow in Ezra's eyes now, you press your lips to his, the waves roll over you, the tide dragging at your bodies while you and him remain still. Press of your lips to his, your tongue licks out and tastes salt on his lips and he opens for you, his hand cupping the back of your head, guiding you against him, his tongue stroking against yours, no battle for dominance, this, just the plush heat of his mouth, the heave of your chests when you finally break apart, waist deep in the ocean.          "I--" says Ezra and Cee's splash hits at face level.          "Gotcha!" she crows, and starts running.          "You miserable little rat!" He hollers, chasing her through the surf. You stand hip deep in the water and laugh. You're not sure what you and Ezra are to each other. Lovers? Friends? Family? Whatever it this is, it feels right and good. It feels like being home.

A/n: Here is a sampling of Cee’s beach trip playlist:

“I Want To Go To The Beach” by Iggy Pop

“Telstar” by The Tornados

“Cake By The Ocean” by DNCE

“Rockaway Beach” by The Ramones

“Misirlou” by Dick Dale and his Del-Tones

[refinedbuffoonery]

Quarantine Moments (14)

Soooooo this started as me vibing to a Halsey song and then it turned into angst. Oops. Sorry. 

Also, in case you missed the announcement earlier this week, this is the last QM. I’ve had so much fun writing these, but it’s time to move on to new things. :)

*****

It’s a quiet night in the MacGyver household. 

Mac lays on the couch, practicing the ukulele. Bozer and Riley are in their respective rooms, doing their own thing. As much as he loves them, Mac has to admit it’s nice having some alone time. 

His fingers land on the wrong strings, and the resulting chord grates on his ears. 

Progress is coming slowly, to say the least. 

Riley shuffles into the kitchen and fills a glass of water for herself. Using her presence as an excuse to pause his increasingly frustrating playing, Mac studies Riley’s posture. Her shoulders cave inward, and she shifts her weight back and forth, from one leg to the other. When Riley turns around, Mac notices the heavy expression in her eyes. 

Something is wrong. 

They hold eye contact for a few seconds, saying nothing. It’s almost as if Riley is trying to convey her thoughts without actually speaking. 

Mac wishes he could understand her. Usually he can. But this look...he can’t pinpoint what it means. 

“C’mon,” Riley beckons. “Let’s go for a drive.” 

Mac frowns, checking the time. “Now? It’s almost ten.” 

“Let’s go,” she repeats. Crossing the distance to the couch, Riley lowers her voice. “Bozer needs some space. I accidentally walked in on him while he was on the phone.” The heavy look in her eyes suddenly makes sense. 

“His mom?” 

“Mac—” Riley lowers her gaze. “She’s...she’s not doing well.” 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, sitting up. Bozer’s mom is the closest thing Mac has to a mother. She certainly raised him like he was her own. 

Riley squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll drive. Does your truck have gas? Mine’s almost out.” 

Still thinking about Bozer’s mom, Mac almost doesn’t hear her. “Yeah,” he belatedly stutters. Closing his eyes and taking a few deep, steadying breaths, Mac pulls on a pair of sneakers and follows Riley out the door. 

It feels good to leave the house.

Riley winds her way through the city streets, turning periodically but generally heading west. Mac’s beach playlist plays softly through the speakers. The roads are empty, which still shocks Mac even after two months of lockdown. Even late at night, there’s usually people on the road. The eerie stillness of his city is unnerving. It’s usually pulsing with life, not...whatever this is. 

A ghost-town, perhaps. Haunted by the memory of the diverse, vibrant beings that once inhabited it. 

“Did you hear anything else?” he asks, referring to Bozer’s phone call. 

Regret flashes in Riley’s eyes. “No. I left as soon as I realized who he was talking to.” 

After a few more turns, they’re in a part of town Mac isn’t familiar with, and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Where are you taking me?” He knows the difference between Riley aimlessly driving and when she has a destination in mind, and this is definitely the latter. 

“My spot.” 

.

They end up at the beach. 

Riley rolls down her window partway, and the smell of saltwater and seaweed wafts in on the gentle breeze. The lights of a ship glimmer in the distance; it’s big, maybe a cargo ship or an aircraft carrier. 

There’s something soothing about being near the ocean, Mac thinks, like all his troubles will be washed out to sea with the receding tide. 

There’s a lot he’d like to wash away.

Mac exhales with each wave's retreat, letting his thoughts and emotions go with it, one by one. After a few minutes, Mac feels lighter than he has in days. "Thanks for getting me out of the house," he says. "I know it wasn't your intention, but I needed this."

"You're welcome." Riley glances at him and looks away, biting her lip. Something flickers in her eyes, just for a second, but it’s gone before Mac can figure out what it is. 

“So, I heard a good joke today,” Mac says. 

“Oh really? Where’d you hear it?” 

“On my run. The teenage boys on the corner were practicing their stand-up comedy routine in the front yard again.” 

Riley smiles. “Let’s hear it.” 

Mac takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself so he doesn’t start laughing before he lands the punchline. “What did the fish say when it hit the wall?” 

Riley makes a show of thinking for a second. “I don’t know. What?” 

“Dam.” 

Riley tips her head back and laughs, the sound loud and full of life. Tendrils of warmth curl in Mac’s insides, taking up residence in the shadowed corners of his soul. He’s been thinking about that joke all day, waiting for the right moment to tell her. 

Because Riley is the first person he wanted to tell, not Bozer or Desi or anyone else. 

Just Riley. 

She’s still laughing as her gaze catches his, and her raw, unguarded expression sends a chill down Mac’s spine. 

Sometimes Mac lets himself think about what it could be like if that wall between them wasn’t there. 

She’d consume him, in every way possible. And he’d gladly let her. 

But that wall is there. It’s been there since the day they met, and Mac respects her too much to poke holes in it. Maybe it’s a good thing. With the wall there to block sparks and fireworks, they developed a quiet rhythm of love and care, and Mac wouldn’t trade that for the world. 

If he let himself love her, really love her, there would be no going back from that, no returning to the way things are now. Either they’d be it for each other—be the one—or they’d wreck each other too thoroughly to ever be just friends again. So even if the wall came down, in a future where Desi is out of the picture, Mac would think twice before crossing that line with Riley. 

And he knows she would too. 

But that wall is there, Mac reminds himself again, and he and Desi are trying to make their relationship work. And as for Riley...

Riley will always be the “what if” he never got the chance to answer. 

Mac can live with that. He doesn’t have a choice, really. 

*****

Riley didn’t think about where was going. She just let her hands and feet take her where she needed to go, and it’s only in the comfortable quiet after Mac tells his stupid joke that Riley realizes what she’s done. 

“I’ve never taken anyone here before,” she confesses suddenly. Riley found this lesser-known beach access point in high school, not long after getting her driver’s license. Her spot has always been a quiet place she could escape to when she needed to avoid the real world for a while. It has always been there for her—when Riley was mad or sad or frustrated, or when she just needed some alone time to think. 

Mac snaps his head up in surprise. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Riley looks away. She wants to tell him, but she can’t bring herself to do it while he’s looking at her like that. “Though, I almost took Aubrey here once.” 

“What stopped you?” 

“I chickened-out at the last minute. I thought I was ready to share it with him, but there was this little voice in my head telling me to keep this place to myself. So I kept driving. I parked in the lot a couple miles south and said that was my spot.” Riley avoids thinking about what it might mean that she didn’t think twice about bringing Mac.

There’s a long pause, and then Mac says, “Thank you for sharing this with me. You didn’t have to. And for the record, even if you had told me about your spot, I never would’ve asked you to bring me here if you didn’t want to.” 

It takes a couple tries to swallow the lump in her throat. “I think Aubrey knew I was lying,” Riley deflects. “So I made out with him long enough for him to forget, and he never brought it up later.” She picks at her nails. The dark gray polish is chipping; she’ll have to repaint them soon. “That was the only thing I ever lied to him about. Besides work stuff, of course. And we know how that turned out.” 

The stench of seaweed and decay fills her nostrils. Riley focuses on it—anything to distract her from the scent of Mac’s laundry detergent. It’s plagued her ever since moving in with him after breaking up with Aubrey. The scent she’s long associated with safety and her friend—and now the person she has unrequited feelings for—follows her everywhere, since her clothes smell like it too. Most days Riley can ignore it, but sometimes....sometimes it feels like torture. 

And right now, at her special spot, in his truck, wearing clothes that smell like him, it all feels like a mockery of what Riley wants and can never have. 

Once, just this once, she lets herself imagine it anyway. 

They’re on another drive, just like this one. It starts with stolen glances, then she switches to driving with one hand so the other can rest innocently on the center console, and soon enough, Mac’s fingers slip between hers. 

Then they’re parked at Riley’s spot, and his lips are on her neck, trailing light kisses across her throat. They get a little carried away, marking skin and untucking shirts, and a murmured Let’s get out of here has Riley speeding home so they can continue this in private. 

Riley shivers. Taking a deep breath, she tucks the fantasy into the far corner of her mind for safe keeping. Riley knows she should just let it go. There’s only so long she can sit in the silence, waiting for a sign and wondering if kissing him would really ruin everything they already have. 

Riley finally dares to glance at Mac again. He’s already looking at her, still wearing that soft expression from before. It’s enough to make her wonder, what if? 

What if he’s everything she ever wanted? 

But what if she loses everything instead?