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previousloversandmuses · 2 years ago

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FREQUENCY: Episode 6 - A Soldier Boy Story

FREQUENCY: A Soldier Boy Story

EPISODE 6: “You Make Me Feel So Young”

WORD COUNT: 7736 (sorry)

PAIRING: Soldier Boy X Reader

WARNINGS: (NSFW) Foul language. Offensive slurs. Violence, depression, and mentions of suicide. Slow burn. Drinking, and drugs.

A/N: This story is dark, and covers mature themes. The main character, as well as other major characters, are offensive in nature, and may offend some people. Please peruse with caution, and remember that this is fiction. Reader discretion is advised. Please message me for any questions, comments, or concerns.

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Everything was exactly where she usually would have left it. Hm, he thinks. Totally stumped. She’s never gone this long without telling him. Her apartment, vacant and cold, hadn't seen her around for about a month, and neither had he. Not since the last time she had come over, at least.

He stalks around her place. Taking a peep into the fridge, only to be greeted by the smell of spoiled milk. He grimaces, shutting it so hard the door comes off of its hinges. Fuck. He leans it back up against the body of the refrigerator, not really bothering to fix it. Maybe she wouldn’t notice?

He takes note of her bedroom. Her worn laundry is still in the hamper, including that little get up she had on the last time she came to see him. He reaches down into it, grabbing onto the black lace underwear, and taking a deep whiff. Still smells like her, which surprisingly brings him little comfort. He knew she did her laundry every day, or else the smell alone would drive her close to insane.

He rummages through her drawers, observing that almost all of her undergarments are gone. She’s also missing shorts, flannels, and her hiking shoes. Okay, he thinks, perhaps she’s just gone home for an extended period of time. Perhaps she is angry with him because of his reaction to her most recent proposition. Lord knows when she’d be back. But he knew he could always check.

Leaving her apartment, her black lace underwear stuffed into the sleeve of his supesuit, he knocks on her neighbors door. He knows they are home, he can hear them. An older woman answers, her eyes wide, mouth dropped.

“Good evening, ma’am, I was wondering if-“ She passes out before she can answer.

Great.

He knocks on the other neighbor's door. He stomps his foot with impatience. His lips formed into a tight line. He crosses his arms over his chest and swallows his irritation with feigned patriotism.

“Hello Sir, would you mind if I asked you a quick question?”

The man stammers, completely dumbfounded.

“Wow! Homelander, what a wonderful surprise,” He turns to look over his shoulder. “Honey, come look! Homelander is here!”

John rolls his eyes, only to resume his pleasant expression once the imbecile turns back to meet his gaze.

“What can we do for you, Sir?” The idiot asks.

“Well, I actually had a question about your neighbor.”

“Which one?” The man beams, a goofy grin on his face. His wife joins him at the door.

“My God! Homelander! To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Homelander smiles back at her, nodding his head. His irritation becomes a lot more difficult to hide.

“Yes ma’am. I was actually asking your husband here a few questions about your neighbor.”

“Who, Old Emma?” The woman asks. ��She’s demented. Whatever she did, we had nothing to do with it.”

He raises an eyebrow at them, shaking his head.

“Uh…no, no, not the old—I was asking about your young neighbor. Apartment D.”

“Ohhhh,” They both say simultaneously. The woman slapping her head, showing her idiocy. “Well, we don’t hear much from her, right Steve?”

The man looks at his wife, nodding, turning back to John.

“She in some kind of trouble? Not one of those supe terrorists, is she?”

“No, no, God no.”

“Is everything alright? Anything we should be worried about?”

“No, just curious about the last time you saw her.”

The couple turn to each other, scratching their heads. Visibly searching their brain for some sort of answer.

“Maybe a few weeks ago? She’s quiet. It’s not out of the ordinary. She usually comes and goes late at night anyway.”

John sighs, nodding to them.

“Alright, thanks anyway. Sorry for bothering you two. Stay safe out there, okay?”

As he begins to walk away, Steve, the husband, calls after him.

“Hey homelander!” John turns back to them, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Do you mind if we get a picture?”

Kill me now. He thinks.

“No, not at all!” He walks up to the two of them with open arms.

The two of them eat dinner every night together for a few weeks. He comes home from a long day of work, which again, he chose to do willingly. Something she still thinks is a feat in itself. He slips off his boots, and lays down on the couch. He’ll turn the TV on and flip to whatever channel is showing reruns of M.A.S.H. Although he does happen to enjoy Two And a Half Men, he was good friends with Charlie Sheen's father back in the day.

Last Tuesday she had borrowed one of Amas cookbooks, deciding on a southern style pot roast. Didn’t look too hard. You just stuff everything into a crockpot, wait eight hours, and call it a night.

By the time he got home the house smelled heavenly, and had been obsessively deep cleaned by the freak herself. He had noticed during their time together that she had to deep clean every few days, otherwise it’d drive her up a wall, and she’d start acting like a deranged mental case. Although regular, established, modern people would just refer to it as irritability. He will never not call her out for it, no matter how many times she tells him that upsets her.

Because of this interaction, his enjoyment of smelling whatever she had cooking for him would usually be cut short, ending in some ridiculous, twenty minute bicker. The two of them are equally hard-headed, and would never admit they were wrong. At this point they both give up, and begin to eat in silence, on the couch, side by side, watching some sort of movie. Finally beginning to talk normally from some obscene observation on his part. She’d never say it, but times like that she did find him funny.

He was crass, and gross, and condescending, and simply everything she thought she’d hate in another human being. But, unfortunately, there was a part of her that found it charming. And come present day, she realized she might be sad the day he doesn’t come home to bother her. She’d been by herself for so long, the idea of even any sort of companion drove her crazy. But she had gotten used to this. And his nightmares had gotten at least a little better to the point where she could fall asleep without headphones, and lie back, being soothed to the sound of his steady heart beat.

All that is short lived when she wakes up to a screech, or a shout--or something. Either way she knows it's him.

Typically, in this situation, or what she’s done so far to cope, is turn on “Swan Lake” on her headphones. She cranks it up, rolling her eyes, and flipping over on her side. Facing away from his side of the house. But tonight, after a particularly heated conversation about the Star Wars Prequels, she can't help but feel a tinge of guilt.

She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, her box fan only doing so much to conceal his soft whimpers of misery. She gnaws on her lip, her heart aching with a sudden remorse for the oh-so-broken man that lies tortured by his own sleep. When was the last time he slept a full night? She thinks. When was the last time he woke up feeling rested? She knows he's strong as steel, and biologically augmented. He probably didn’t even really need the sleep. But mental anguish? Cognitive health? She knew from her own experience that can take a toll on even the strongest of Supes. Take John, for example, even he was a loose cannon for Christ's Sake!

She sighs, standing up, and making her way into the living room. It’s at least worth a try. She didn’t even really know what to try. She was never one for comfort, even with the likes of John. Hell, she didn't even know how to expect people to comfort her!

He lies on the pull out bed, resting on his side. Small, innocent, puffs of air fall from his lips. He almost looks sweet like this. Like a little boy, so wholesome and demure. She's sure that won't last long when he wakes up. With this man's amount of pride, she's sure he'd have her in a chokehold for even thinking consoling him was a good idea.

She softly sits to the left on him, making sure to not create too much noise. Did he wake up to stuff like this? Could he sense her presence or maybe he's well equipped to military style combat even when half asleep? She definitely wasn’t willing to find out.

Another round of his wimpers start up again. She looks around awkwardly, unsure how to go about this situation. She reaches her hand down, it hovers over his damp forehead. He’s going to snap my wrist, she thinks, grimacing. She bites her lip in preparation. Anything to get this wild, uninhibited man to have a full night's sleep. Shit, anything to get her to have a full night's sleep!

Fuck it.

She begins cascading her stiff hand through his wet hair. She's moving like she doesn't have control of her arms. I look disabled, she thinks, shaking her head. It was a funny sight. If she were to tell someone she had cerebral palsy, she’s sure they'd believe it. She snorts at that. What an awful thing to think. She had definitely been hanging around him too much.

He shifts over onto his back in his slumber, her hand moving away from him quickly. She eyeballs him to make sure he's not awake. His little breaths continue to puff away. She sighs in relief. She watches as he stiffens up, his whimpers bubbling from his throat again. Her eyes widen. She drops her hand back down to his scalp and begins to scrape her fingers through it. He starts to calm down. Like magic, she thinks. She shuts her eyes for a moment, suddenly desperate to feel any sort of electrical current dancing around underneath the top layer of his skull. And she does. It lights like a wildfire as his nightmare begins to calm down--

That is, until he nearly breaks her wrist, of course. He's up with a jolt, as he wraps his hand around her delicate, unaltered bones.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He demands, her eyes going wide.

She tries pulling her arm out of his vice grip, her bones creaking under the strength of his fingers.

“You were having a nightmare,” She argues, slightly embarrassed. “I was trying to help.”

He laughs at her, dropping her arm into her lap. He stands up, separating himself from her.

“Only little boys have nightmares, and last time I fuckin’ checked, I’m a grown man.”

“You have kept me up every night for a week now.”

“What happened to your phoneheads?” He demands. “Those keep you from hearing things.”

She rolls her eyes at him. Hearing things. Whatever gets you to sleep at night, pal. Which was, obviously, nothing.

“They are uncomfortable.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m uncomfortable when you come and caress me in my sleep-” He stops himself, thinking about that statement for a second. Well, maybe not that kind of caressing.

“You’re perverted.” She already knows exactly what he's thinking.

“And you don't listen. How many times do I have to tell you I dont have fuckin’ shell shock?”

She shrugs, “You’re gonna have to keep telling me, because thirty years of captivity seems like it’d do a lot to a guy.”

“Yeah, well, maybe to one of those pussy desert storm vets. Those are the ones who were left fucking half-retarded.”

She stands up, scoffing, brushing past him, and walking back into her room.

“You liked it,” She states. “It shut you right up.”

He stares at her.

“But okay, tough guy, I won't do it again.”

He looks down at his feet, kicking at the floor. “Good, glad we're on the same page.” He says.

She closes the door on him.

John has been sitting in Vought Security for the past four hours trying to find any surveillance he could of her quiet escape. He just wanted to make sure she really did go home. That she wasn’t flaking out on him. That she wasn’t abandoning him. Not that he cared or anything…

“Doesn’t she have a tendency to take out security cameras?” The young intern asks.

He had stolen her from her minor duties as a security assistant. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing.

“Yes, but don’t you think we’d at least see her take them out?”

“Yes Sir, but if she left, then I’m sure we would have seen her leave by now.”

“Don’t question me. Filter through the next hour, I’m sure we’re almost there.” He breathes down her neck as he hunches over, getting himself closer to the screen to see.

And anyone could have missed it, but he didn’t. There goes her shitty old car, flashing past the screen.

“There,” He shouts. “Go back, pause it.”

The young girl sighs, rewinding the footage, and stopping on the blurry still of the car.

“There she is,” He smiles, “Now where the fuck are you headed?”

The two of them sit there for another hour as they watch her car travel from camera to camera across the city. That is until she reaches a big dumpster behind some shitty supermarket on the outskirts of Queens.

The camera on the lamp post that recorded this had to be at least twenty years old. It looks like it had been filmed on a fucking microwave.

“Is there any way we can make this image clearer?” He asks, gesturing to the screen.

The young intern shrugs, pressing some buttons, and filtering out at least a little bit of the grain.

“It’s not much better,” She sighs.

He pats her shoulder, she goes stiff, ready for this loose cannon to fire any second.

“This works.” He states, yanking her out of the seat and taking her place.

He gets obnoxiously close to the screen, squinting his eyes, and watches as Freak throws something into the trash can.

“Is that a body?” The intern gasps in horror.

John rolls his eyes, “No, it's not a fucking body.”

He begins to rub at his chin, “...At least, I don’t think so…”

The girl reaches over his shoulder, clicking a few buttons, then walks over to the printer and hands him the location.

“This is where this camera is located. I doubt whatever she threw out is still in there, but it's worth a try, I guess.”

“Wow, thank you so much for your input that I definitely did not ask for.”

Deadpan. The girl would rather him put her out of her misery by this point. They stare each other down pathetically for a moment, before he shoos her away to go about the rest of her day.

He waits for the young girl to leave. Sighing as he turns back to the screen, he watches as Freak hops back in her car and drives off. He keeps the speed of the footage up, and only a few seconds later does he spot a homeless man walking over to the dumpster. He pauses the video quickly, putting it back into real time. The homeless man looks around suspiciously, before launching himself over the side of the dumpster.

John is at the edge of his seat. Please, Christ. He thinks. He begs. Anything that will get him on her trail.

After a few minutes, the homeless man pops his head back out. He hops back onto the ground, something shiny under his arm. Maybe a laptop, he thinks. He follows the man on nearby security cameras until he reaches a pawn shop. The man is in there for a good five minutes before he walks back out, envelope in hand. He immediately walks next door and into the liquor store. Typical.

This is worth a try, John thinks. Although, this was recorded over a month ago. Even if it was sold, he's sure they wouldn't mind giving him the information on who bought it. I mean, he is the Homelander for Christ's sake.

With that in mind, and location of the pawn shop in hand, he makes his way out of Vought Security, and then launches himself out of the tower. He’d find her. Even if it was the last thing he’d do.

They didn’t talk for two days after the nightmare fiasco. He’d come home to a dark house. She was either asleep, or hanging out with Ama until late. She never told her what really happened, just that his senile ass was getting on her nerves.

All the young adults on the res had plans to go out on friday night. He didn’t really know what that meant. Partying wasn’t like it used to be, and he isn’t sure if he would even like to party at all.

“You coming tonight?” Asher asks, taking a drag off a cigarette.

He and Ben lean up against a brick wall outside of the diner that they all frequent for lunch.

“What’s it we’re doing exactly?” Ben asks, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and up to his lips.

“It's like a bar honkey-tonk.”

“A honkey tonk?” Ben grimaces.

“It ain’t too bad, they barely play any country, either. Usually old classics, disco, that kind of thing.” Asher adds.

“Old classics…what the hell does that even mean?”

Asher laughs. Ama and Freak had ended up telling the rest of the young people on the res about Ben. Who he was. Why she broke him out. What the plan would be come summer.

A lot of them were hesitant at first, and for good reason. The Soldier Boy they knew had not necessarily been too kind to them. He understood their resistance for acceptance. Hell, he didn't even really want to be talking to these people anyway. The further they stay away, the better. But, of course, that wasn’t how it seemed to work. Everyone had been harassing him about stories from the past. Hell, he was once the most famous man in the world at the time.

“Old classics…80’s and under.”

“80’s and under?” Ben gapes. “Spare me.”

“Your version of old music is what…Beethoven live?”

Ben shakes his head, laughing.

“Fuck you,” He drags from his smoke. “So old music, drinking, and dancing?”

“Think you can handle that, old man?”

“We’ll see.”

Asher finishes his cigarette, dropping it to the ground, and crushing it with his foot.

“There will be some girls there too, I’m sure. Plenty for you to choose from.”

With Ama and Freaks' admission about who Ben really was, also came everyone knowing that the two of them weren’t really together. He didn’t mind…Or, at least he didn’t think so. A few days after they let everyone know, Ben watched one of Ama’s brothers pull Freak off to the side of the outdoor pavilion. He rested his arm above her head and looked down at her with a glowing admiration. Soft, big puppy dog eyes, doing what they do best. A look she seemed to send right back to him in return. She had never looked at him like that.

Did he even want her to? He swallowed that feeling down before he let himself answer.

“I’m a little rusty. I’ll come out for a little while and then turn in.” Ben sighs, still smoking on his cigarette.

“Your choice.” Asher shrugs, beginning to walk back inside the diner.

In theory it would probably be best for Ben's mental health to at least try to stay out later. Be social. Did he have to talk to women? No. These were baby steps. He could stay out, drink with the few friends he’s made, and listen to songs that made him feel comfortable. Think back to the good times. Hell, he might even get to see Freak let loose.

“...Christ on a cross…” He lets out a heavy groan. He had almost forgotten about what happened a few nights ago. There's no way she’d be going out, he thinks. And even if she did, she sure as hell wouldn’t get anywhere near him.

He felt bad for his reaction to her sweet gesture. How it was purely innocent, and kind. Something he rarely saw from her. She wasn’t cold-- well, not really. It was more like the idea of letting herself become comfortable with someone was, shocker, uncomfortable. His response to the situation ended up making him look weaker than what he was afraid of. He was acting like a little boy terrified of catching cooties.

He had always considered himself to be an open book, because to him there wasn’t much to be open about. He didn’t have any feelings that weren’t manly, and if he did, they were suppressed by bouts of irrational anger and rage. Reactions which he's sure led to his existence as a lab rat for thirty years.

He was cold to all of Payback, especially Noir, who was always agreeable and pure. And even to Countess, who he claims he loved. No man would ever treat a woman they cared about that deeply with such discontent and hatred. He acted like she made him sick. He’s sure he had even slapped her around a few times. But he was so arrogant, and she wasn’t built like regular women. He thought she could take it. She was strong. She needed that treatment. She needed that to be stronger.

In reality, his behavior all led him right back to his father. To his silver spoon childhood. His father, who was a disgrace. His father, who was unfair and disgustingly evil. His father, who was everything he turned out to be. Ben's personality was purely the result of mistreatment. Of parental negligence. Of deep rooted insecurity. Worst part is, he knows that now. He's been having to live with it. He’s been having to deal with these weird, foreign, repressed emotions. Ones that bubble to the surface as a short temper that's taken out on another broken human being who doesn’t deserve it.

He remembers dinner with her about a week ago. She was freshly showered so her hair was dripping wet, making a little puddle on the floor. The back of her shirt damp, and sticking to her skin. She was ridiculously shiny, which was the result of some face mask from the nearby pharmacy. It smelled like blueberries, and he’s sure she could tell. Most definitely an overpowering mixer with their steaming plate of macaroni and cheese. She grimaced as she took a bite.

“You put a lot of effort into yourself for a girl who’s so set on dying.” He says, breaking the silence. He had been refering to her planned suicide mission in the coming weeks.

She widened her eyes at him, setting her fork down, and reaching over to take a sip of her water. She had been exhausted that day. There had been a big music festival thirty miles down in one of the valleys. That's all she had heard and felt for the past twelve hours. A little self care is what she needed. Anything to treat her pounding headache, and sore muscles.

“I would've done it a long time ago if I wasn’t so set on revenge.” She stated, rubbing the sides of her temples with her fingers.

He shakes his head, putting his fork down.

“You can’t let these people have such power over you.” He argued.

“I’m too tired to have this conversation right now.” She sighs.

She pokes around her plate with her fork, resting one side of her head on her hand. He watches her as she mopes.

“Y’know, sometimes people in my blast zones don’t even die they just…end up losing whatever fucked up thing the V did to their DNA.” He tries to act nonchalant about it.

She looked up at him. It was a sweet gesture, she thought. He obviously didn’t think she was worthy of dying. Worthy of throwing her entire tortured life away. He was willing to help her find an alternative to her suffering. The question was whether or not she was willing to do that. And at this point, she didn't think so.

“Ben, it’s a nice gesture, really.” She smiles weakly.

She had always thought she was one of those people who were born to die. Like her whole purpose in life was death. That her existence had a deeper meaning, and that she wouldn't die in vain. She’d die in sacrifice. In the way she wanted to. She thought it was beautiful that she would be the final factor in her demise. That cancer, or John, or Vought, or an atomic bomb--any outside source wouldn’t have the ability to take control of her ultimate cessation.

“We can keep you at a close distance so you wouldn't get hurt. It’d be quick, and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like today anymore.” He sounded excited almost.

“This thing that V gave me, I hate it,” She starts. “But I wouldn’t know how to live without it, either.”

He nodded along. That he understands.

“Like today for example; the ground is shaking, I feel it everywhere. It gives me a headache, raises my blood pressure. And the sound, the fact I can hear the bass from thirty miles away. I mean, to say my ears are ringing is an understatement. But, at the same time, the way I experience music is an incredible gift. I can hear chords and choruses and notes and keys--things machines couldn’t even be able to pick up…Without this curse, I would be just an empty shell. I wouldn't know how to live. So I guess, maybe the real curse, is just continuing to exist, compound V or not.”

By the time John gets to the pawn shop it had already been closed for thirty minutes. He lands just as the shopkeeper is locking up for the night. The man’s coat flies up from the force of John's arrival. He jumps in response. He turns to face him, John already putting on a shit eating, manufactured smile. The man freezes, dropping all of his belongings on the ground.

“How are you this beautiful evening, Sir?” It had been raining all day.

The man stammers, searching for some sort of coherent response. John grits his teeth. Deep breaths. He goes out of his way to continue the conversation.

“I’m looking for something that may have come through in your shop, do you mind if I have a look?”

“I-I-I…”Almost there, it’s nearly out. “I’ve just closed up for the night Sir, can this not wait until m-morning?”

Sorry--wait until morning? Does this absolute fucking imbecile retarded fucking moron not understand who hes talking to? John stalks up closer to him, the shopkeeper trembling enough to drop his keys onto the ground. John watches them as they fall, only to turn back up to the man.

“You gonna pick those up?” John asks, cornering him.

“Uh, y-yes sir.” The man stutters, squatting down and picking up his keys.

“Good job,” John praises. “Now, are you going to unlock this door and let me inside or am I going to have to force my way in myself?”

The man audibly swallows, turning back to the knob and unlocking the door with an old, rusted key. When the door opens John is hit with a waft of moth balls, old cigarettes, and dust. God this place was a slum. Who the hell would buy anything from there and expect it to be any quality higher than dog shit?

“Are you looking for anything in particular, Sir?”

John scans the room. There is furniture; some old and ripped, some newer and draped in red velvet. There is a section for jewelry, he's sure none of it is real. There is silver, china, guns, knives, japanese art, again, definitely not real.

“Do you have any electronics?”

The man gestures down in front of him. There is a glassed case that houses a few flip phones, a handful of Blackberry’s, some walkie talkies, and, Ah, laptops.

“We actually just got in a few new flip phones, Sir,” The man leans in closer, looking around, speaking under his breath. “Including a first generation keypad Nokia.”

John snorts, shaking his head. Unbelievable.

“I’m actually looking for a laptop.”

The man takes a deep breath, “Aw man, we just sold our last one today. Microsoft Windows I think.”

John feels himself getting agitated. He’s sure he can no longer hide the look of discontent on his face.

“So, no apple computers then?”

“N-no, unfortunately not, sir.” The man swallows hard again.

John takes note of his blood pressure. One-eighty over ninety. He must be hiding something. He begins to laugh at the man.

“What was your name?” John asks.

“A-Akash.” He stutters, his palms beginning to sweat.

John could smell it.

“Okay, Akash,” John leans in closer, grabbing him by the collar. “I know an apple computer came through here a few weeks ago. And I’m gonna assume by the pounding of your heart rate that you bought it off of some homeless guy for thirty dollars and some change.”

Akash nods, beads of perspiration forming at the top of his hairline.

“And I’m gonna bet that since you got such a good deal on a new, nice laptop, that you decided you were gonna keep it yourself. Is that right?”

Akash squeaks something, but John can hardly understand him due to his crushing vice grip.

“Sorry, what was that?” John says, pulling Akash up closer to his face, his feet hovering off the ground.

“Y-yes!” Akash cries, “P-please, Homelander, I have a family at home. Take whatever you want!”

“Where's the laptop?” He asks.

The man points down to his briefcase.

She stands in the kitchen, doing her makeup in the reflection of the microwave. She likes the natural lighting. She turns around, reaching to grab the controller, and turning the TV on. The New York news station is reporting about some Pawn Shop that caught on fire. Good, she thinks. As long as it has nothing to do with Ben. She's relieved to know that the two of them continue to be white noise.

And ugh, speaking of Ben, she prays he won't be going out tonight. Maybe he’ll continue to be antisocial and isolate himself at home, watching reruns of “Happy Days”, and snorting mountains of benzos. She's tired of getting them for him.

After she finishes up on her mascara, she walks back into her room and slips on her dress for the evening. It's black, tight, vintage Guess. She had gotten it from the consignment store the other day. Everyone had planned on going to dinner first, but most of the guys had a long day. They would rather go home and relax, and then go back out later in the evening. The club had alright bar food anyway. Well, at least from what she can remember.

Smoothing out the edges of her dress with delicate hands, she sits back down on her bed, and turns on the TV. Waiting for when everyone was ready to go out. She’d rather be ready early than having to scramble during an already stressful evening. She hadn’t gone out in ages.

As she settles back onto the pillow, she hears the front door creak open. She goes still, hoping he won't come in to bother her. He doesn’t, just goes to hop right into the shower. He must be going out then, she thinks. And if he is, there is absolutely no way he's leaving after her. She will be fashionably late. He can happily go early and hopefully turn in before midnight like the old man he is. Anything to guarantee avoiding an unwanted interaction.

She's still and silent as she listens to him get ready. Her TV on mute. Her face heats up as she hears the familiar zipper of his jeans. She had gotten used to hearing that everyday. He clears his throat, keys jingling as he shoves them into his pocket. The clock on the wall now read 9:03. People would slowly start to turn up at the bar.

Suddenly his phone rings, the one that she got him from Wamart. It was a cheap flip phone that had minutes. He still didn’t understand how any grown man is ever able to type on the tiny little keypad. His whole fingertip takes up half the screen.

“Yeah?” He answers, opening the front door and walking outside. It was Asher. “I’m leaving now…No, I don’t know if she's coming…Well tell Ama to call her that’s not my fuckin problem.”

She hears Tough Guy’s big ass truck pull up outside of the house. It growls as it comes to a quick stop on the gravel drive. He hops in, hanging up the phone as he does so.

Thats not my fuckin problem. What an asshole.

She bolts up after that phone exchange. Her skin was hot. She was embarrassed. Why the hell is he acting like this whole situation was her fault? All she was doing was trying to help him! She stomps over to the floor mirror, reaching for the ties on the back of her dress. She pulls it tight so her waist cinches in significantly. She reaches over to her makeup bag again, adding a load of eyeliner and an even thicker layer of mascara. Popping off the lid to her perfume, she drenches herself in it, making sure to get all of the parts any man would love to smell. The places that catch in the wind, only to make their breaths catch in their throats.

What was this going to do for her? What sort of gratification was she wanting here? Is this her way of getting back at him for being a piece of shit? By acting like a slut and taunting him with something he couldn't have? Maybe. She’s sure it might work. She’s sure it would do something. Even if he didnt feel that way about her. The fact that she was letting loose and having so much fun without him.

But what if this made him angry? What if this backfires and he blows the whole place to the fucking ground with everyone still in it? Or worse, what if he decided to back out? He says “fuck you, and fuck the family,” and leaves in a cloud of dust? She’d really be fucked then. Well, her rational brain wasn't thinking tonight anyway. She grabs her keys off the console and says fuck it.

The car ride there was hot, and sweaty. Tough Guys AC in his car had stopped working and he was too tired to fix it. Although he must've been 200 more pounds than Ben, he wasn’t blessed with the likes of Compound V. That shit made him a human heater. They had the windows rolled down, which made everyones hair look fucking crazy.

Once they make it to the bar, all the guys hop out of the car. The place is buzzing with people. All different ethnicities too, which surprised him to say the least. You’d think the rednecks would've ran these people out of town by this point, he thinks. One thing everyone had in common though, almost all of them were wearing cowboy boots. Ben felt significantly out of place, and not just because he was a century older.

The inside of the club is blasting “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees when they walk in. Okay, he could get behind that. In the center of the dance floor is a good amount of people, mostly couples or groups of girls. Some of the couples were grinding up and down on each other. It was inappropriate beyond gross proportions. I mean, some of these girls were literally rubbing themselves on these guys' thighs. The older crowd, anywhere between 40 and 70, stood by the bar, watching the dance floor. A lot of them were grimacing, although slightly amused by the ridiculous display of affection. Feeling the same way about it that Ben was. There were high top tables over there, one of them just freeing up as they headed over. The four of them wrap around the table, looking around for their friends.

“I’ll go look for the other guys.” Tough Guy says, they all nod at him.

Asher looks around, craning his neck, searching for his girlfriend.

“Ah, there she is,” He says. “Just in time.”

The music changes in the club “Who’s That Lady” By The Isley Brothers coming on. Ben turns his head to follow Asher. Ama and the rest of the girls begin to walk in the door. Perfect timing for this song, he thinks--And then his breath catches in his throat.

She walks in behind the rest of them, sticking out like a sore thumb. Girls like her beelong on the silver screen. They belong in films. On the cover of magazines. In art museums hanging up on a wall surrounded by a sea of onlookers taking her picture. She is it. She is money. She is light. She is so radiant in that tight, black dress he thinks the whole place quiets down when she walks in. Okay, he was not expecting that.

The herd of girls say hello to him as they walk up to the bar. He nods, not paying attention. His eyes glued to the sight across the room. Adohi, the guy that had her up against the pavilion the other day, saunters towards her, two drinks in his hand. He passes her one, she accepts it happily, leaning in to give him a hug.

“I'm surprised you could make it!” He yells over the music, she grimaces.

What an idiot, he thinks. Who the hell would forget that about her?

“Sorry,” Adohi says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just surprised you can even handle the music.”

She smiles at him, gesturing towards a pair of earplugs. She knew they didn't do much. But, those plus the gifts of alcohol made it much easier for her to tolerate. Once she got drunk enough her body would end up feeding on the sensation of the bass through the floor. She downs the drink quickly at the realization. Then starts sauntering over to the bar.

She catches him in her peripheral, not daring to look at him. She knew where he was sitting the moment they pulled up. His heartbeat was so unique, it was easy to spot even from a mile away.

“Freak,” He calls. Fuck. She wasn’t expecting that.

She looks over her shoulder quickly, not stopping her pursuit towards the bar.

“Hey,” She says, sounding completely uninterested. She said it in a way that you talk to someone whose name you don't remember. She is ice cold. Leaving him frowning on the chair.

Ouch, he thinks. This was going to be harder than he thought. Good thing he's persistent.

Throughout the span of the next few hours the both of them had their fair share of drinks. Ben was buzzed, and so was she. Not to the point where the two of them were incapacitated, but enough so the room was brighter, and they were significantly happier than they were the moment they walked in.

The two of them stood at opposite ends of the club all night. Both stealing glances, pretending that they didn’t catch the other one looking. She made it obvious she was putting on a show. Dancing with Adohi provocatively when any sensual songs came on. Ben gave up on moving slowly with women about an hour ago. After she had her first dance with Adohi. Currently, Ben sits at the bar leaned into a woman's ear. He has her howling with laughter, his hand resting on the small of her back.

Ama and Asher watch from the entrance of the club after going outside for a smoke break. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. It was embarrassing, and immature, to say the least. These were two grown adults acting like petty teenagers to get back at each other for the sake of their own pride. They had had enough.

Ama stomps over to Freak, who was currently grinding on Adohi on the dance floor. She was flushed and sweaty, her hair poofed up from the humidity within the club.

Ama grabs her arm, “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” She asks.

Freak gives her a what the fuck look, as Ama drags her off to the bathroom.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to go alone.” She says, blatantly lying.

“Couldn’t you tell I was in the middle of something?” She asks as the two of them walk through the bathroom door.

“Yeah, exactly why I pulled you out of it.” Ama pulls them into a bathroom stall. It's small enough where their feet are on top of each other.

“I was having a good time.” Freak argues.

“Adohi is three years younger than you and has a heart murmur, there is no way you are dancing with him because you want to.”

“I am so.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“You are not,” Ama argues, looking down at the time on her phone. “Okay, one second.”

Ama reaches up and ruffles Freaks hair. Making it sexier, messier, voluminous. Then she takes her thumbs and drags them under her eyes, wiping away the running mascara.

“Didn’t your mom ever teach you about waterproof?” Ama teases.

“I don't have a mom.” Says Freak plainly.

Right, Ama thinks. She then reaches to unlock the bathroom door and pulls them back out.

“Hey, I thought you had to go to the bathroom!”

Ama drags them both out onto the dancefloor, the familiar intro of “How Deep Is Your Love” beginning to play from the speaker.

“It, uh, went away?” Ama says, looking around for Asher.

He sees him coming towards her, and just as Barry Gibb begins to start singing, Ama pushes Freak into Asher, who pushes Ben into her. The two of them running into each other. Out of habit, Ben wrapped his hand around her back to steady her. Having no idea who it was at first. They both stare at each other for a minute, not knowing what to say. It would be too immature and awkward if the other decided to just storm off, leaving the other one alone.

Looking around, all the other couples slowly start to slow dance with each other. A new one coming off of the side lines and onto the floor every few seconds. Freak eyeballs him, then slowly lifts up her arms and onto his shoulders. Not looking him in the eye. In fact, she looks everywhere but him. The ceiling was interesting this evening.

He rolls his eyes at her. He was so sick of her acting like a little teenage girl. Although, he thinks he's no better. The two of them dance in silence until the song is almost over.

“I’m sorry,” He says suddenly, breaking the tension. “I’m sorry for all of it.”

She blinks at him, tilting her head to the side. She wasn’t expecting that to come from him so easily.

“I was just- It was- I haven’t…” He trips over his tongue trying to find the right words to say.

He takes a deep breath, looking her in her eyes.

The song switches to “You Make Me Feel So Young” By Frank Sinatra. They usually played Frank this time of night before the older couples decided to turn in.

“I’m an asshole, and I’ve always been an asshole. And I know that now and I’m trying to be kinder and to adapt but I don’t know what to do or what to say or how to even exist…” He trails off, looking over to the side of the club.

“I get it,” She says, smiling softly. He turns back to her as she continues “I have a hard time feeling like a real person too.”

He looks down at her outfit, his voice getting quieter, his eyes becoming heavy.

You make me feel so young

You make me feel there are songs to be sung

Bells to be rung

And a wonderful fling to be flung

“You look so beautiful.” He says.

“Thank you,” She says, her eyes watering, her throat dry.

She doesn’t think anyone has ever said that to her in her life.

He thinks he's never said it and meant it before in his whole life. Not until now. This was the first time in his life he's ever felt it. The first time in a hundred years. When he looked into the eyes of someone and had the answers to every question he’s ever asked.

And even when I'm old and gray

I'm gonna feel the way I do today

'Cause you make me feel so young

“I’m sorry,” He starts, resting his forehead on hers. “This is the closest to home I’ve ever felt. I’m such an asshole.”

She looks up into his eyes with a misty glimmer, a devious gaze. One that holds the whole world within it. A soul pouring out into another. And he caught all of it in the palm of his hands.

She leans up and places a gentle kiss on his lips. He’s reluctant at first, but slowly begins to smile into it.

This felt like home.

Masterlist | Taglist | Episode 7

Taglist: @sl33pylilbunny @Lanassmarty @Sydneyyyya @1-800shootmeplease@muhahaha303@nancymcl@speedyrebelfan@ghh05ttt@agentorange9595@let-me-luve-you @peachytits @darkdahl @deans-spinster-witch @soggybasementfries @ladysparkles78 @madamthemoo @lyarr24@sadlittlecountess @mickaelly007 @mrscountryclub @vtheoneandonly @decadentanchorwerewolf @wonderland2022@buckybarnes-1917@rebeccathefangirl@daisy-the-quake @tiredbibi @greyish-wallpaper@previousloversandmuses@is-this-a-febreze-commercial@justrealizedimmascifygurl@broimamy@freewastelandstrawberry@breadsgalore@savagemickey03@franblaq6466@lustendreams@atinylittlebee @VtheOneandOnly

#homelander smut #homelander x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x reader #homelander #jensen ackles #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy the boys #jensen ackles x reader #soldier boy oneshot #the boys fanfic #the boys #jensen ackles smut #frequency: a soldier boy story

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theconstantsidekick · 3 years ago

Text

Bucky Barnes, the Boyfriend Masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader (past)

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Summary: Set somewhere around the events of The Falcon, The Winter Soldier, and Static and Static: Get, Set, Glitch, these are small stand—alone snippets with Bucky and his girlfriend (who's not only enhanced but also a Stark and an Avenger; codename—Static) being hopeless idiots in love.

Warnings: Swearing. Canon Typical Violence, NSFW Content (warned in the individual chapter)

a/n: While not necessary to read the previous installments, it does help you get the story a little bit better.

In order of release—

Quit it!

There’s something unusual about his badass hero assassin girlfriend (codename—Static) the last couple of weeks. And for the life of him, Bucky can’t tell what’s wrong. But something is definitely wrong.

What are you?

Bucky wants to understand which way his girl (who’s a badass hero assassin, codename—Static) swings. Bucky wants to understand her sexuality. He just doesn’t know when the fuck pasta came into the mix.

I'll see you and raise you

Sam doesn’t understand why Bucky is flirting with some brunette woman while his girl, Y/n is standing right here. But what throws him for a far worse spin is why she decides to exact her revenge on Barnes by flirting with the same brunette even harder.

Hungry Eyes

Steve thought he knew his best friend. But he has never been this confused in his life as he is right now as he watches Bucky fight.

The Starks Are Alright

A tumultuous day in the life of Harley Keener that includes a birthday party, a fight that he needs to solve between Y/n and her boy, Bucky Barnes, and Steve Rogers trying to get into his good graces.

Judgment Is a Negative Frequency

Bucky and y/n run into a very judgmental ex of hers and then things kinda escalate from there.

Keep You Entertained

Bucky thinks he might be a boring boyfriend and thus begins his mission to ensure that he doesn't get dumped by Y/n because of it.'

Truth or Dare?

Captured and bored alongside her beloved ex-boyfriend, Steve Rogers, Y/n decides the only way to burn time is to play a game of truth or dare.

Happy Birthday...?

Y/n Stark always manages to make Bucky feel very special, even more so on his birthday. So, he decides to pay back in kind... except he has no clue when her birthday is.

Of Gucci Suits and Wierdos

Y/n Stark gets shot while on a mission. Here's what happens next.

Class of '92

Y/n goes to the Harvard Reunion to reap the benefits of the alumni fees she's been giving out for the last three and a half decades.

Find other works in this same universe—

Static Verse Masterlist (main masterlist)

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do TFP bots (or just a few of them if you have charcater limit or just don't feel like doing them all, as long as Wheeljack is ingluded I'm good) with a human they just recued and they're like "I'm gonna call my dad hold on" and if they protest they're like "nah you'll like him I promise, just give him a minute" and her dads their old bot friend who went MIA (you can decide who the dad is, or go with Ironhide if you're as indeciceve as me lol)

I miiiiight just have to do this as a short story I hope that's okay! Got my Wrecker boys Wheeljack, Bulkhead, Smokescreen and Ultra Magnus.

Dust was still settling as you realized the threat was over, the collection of vehicons having scattered long before the cave had finished it's partial collapse and leaving you under the gathered team of bots who'd come together to shield you from falling debris. Rubbing off the powdered rocks covering your face, as well as coughing up the taste of dirt, you took a moment to gather yourself as your new giant allies did the same. It wasn't worth thinking about what would have happened if they hadn't come along when they had... In your defense, that ambush had come out of nowhere.

"You okay there?" A deep voice above you rumbled with concern, encouraging you to tilt your head upwards at the big green bot looking down at you. His optics were friendly, and despite his absolutely massive size and hands that transformed into wrecking balls, you immediately trusted him.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks to you guys." You said gratefully, looking to each of the gathered team as they brushed the dust off themselves.

"Protecting organic life is the primary responsibility of Autobots, think nothing of it." The largest of them said, somewhat gruff as he meticulously picked off the worst of the rubble that had showered down upon them. Immediately, you knew he was the one in charge. Towering above the others and with shoulder pauldrons thicker than two of you, he gave off the energy of someone who took no nonsense and had the firepower to back up his authority, yet his gaze was mostly just annoyed as he looked down to you again. "Our second responsibility, however, is remaining hidden from the denizens of this planet. Saving you required us to break cover."

"Give the kid a break, sir. They managed to escape a whole squadron by themselves before running into us. I think we can cut them some slack." A far gruffer voice said, cutting in as the battle scarred mech in question took a protective step your way. Quite immediately the colors on his unique build were familiar to you, but you decided to stay quiet on that fact, reaching for the cellphone thankfully still secure in your pocket. While you hadn't found what you'd been looking for in this mine, at least you had something far more interesting to report.

The big blue bot looked to the other with an impressive frown, unintentionally cementing your thesis as to the scarred mech's identity. The back and forth continued more or less without an acknowledgement of your presence. "They've been seen in our company, Wheeljack. By the procedure Optimus established, we must now secure their wellbeing, and that will be quite the undertaking."

The only one who had not yet spoken, a smaller but solidly built blue bot who seemed the youngest of the group, chose that moment to jump in with a quip. "Doubt docbot will be too happy about another human in the bunker."

"He's all talk. Ratchet wants these little guys as safe as the big guy does, he won't put up a fight." The gruff one, who you were starting to like more by the moment, said with an amused but reassuring smile in your direction. Unable to help smiling back, you suddenly felt that this turn of events might have been more than you could have ever hoped for. If only you could get a word in edgewise...

"You're purposefully missing the point, soldier. We-"

"If it's gonna be such a hassle for you, I'll take 'em myself."

"Jackie..." Once more, the gentle green giant spoke up, looking quite concerned at his friend's purposeful egging on of the bot in charge. You got the sense that this kind of thing happened often by his tone, but personally, you were getting a little tired of being ignored. None of what they were discussing was necessary, and if anyone would have bothered to ask you they'd know that? Finally fed up, you took a breath and raised your arms to draw attention to your tiny self.

"Um, hello? Excuse me!" You shouted, mercifully ending the bickering and securing four pairs of optics on yourself. Relieved for the silence, you pulled out your phone and held it up, projecting your voice to ensure you were heard. The shocked expressions didn't cease when you started to explain, but you didn't let that stop you. Sorting this out would make everything easier for everyone. "I think there's a bit more going on than any of you know. Let me call my dad really quick, he'll set this straight."

The first to reply was the one you knew had to be the rookie of the group, who awkwardly cleared his vents and broke the silence only hesitantly. "Uh, bringing more humans into this really isn't our goal-"

"Who said anything about him being human?" You cut in, grinning from ear to ear at the looks they all gave you. Now that you had their unbroken attention, it was only a matter of summoning your dad and waiting for him to arrive. Dialing his frequency into your phone, you prepared to share just as much information as it took to get him here fastest, wanting to see the look on his face when he arrived and saw who you'd found. This was going to be fun...

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

The roar of a familiar engine had thankfully silenced the second round of bickering to break out amongst the two argumentative bots, who had gone back and forth between listening to you and calling for their superior. It had been entertaining at first, but by the time that roar had echoed down the tunnel you'd been relieved to hear it, and had hopped to your feet from your seat on a convenient rock. The bots had reflexively drawn their weapons, but there hadn't even been any need for you to stop them. A worn red paint job skidding around the corner had made them all hold fire.

In a rush, you'd run out to greet the massive off road vehicle just as it began to transform, and in moments had been embracing the offered hand of a hulking bot who kneeled before you with an expression of happy relief.

"Ironhide!"

"Wheeljack!" Your adopted dad cried out in absolute joy, letting you move safely to the side before approaching the bot who's identity you'd properly guessed. Ironhide had told you so many stories about the Wrecker, it made sense that you'd been able to tell who he was by appearance and mannerisms despite having never met. The two bots greeted one another with an earth trembling chest bump, after which your beaming father turned to the green bot with just as much enthusiasm, shaking hands and crashing their fists together with overwhelming power. "Bulkhead too? Where have you guys been?"

"We might ask you the same thing, soldier." The big blue bot said, cutting in with the same serious look that appeared to be his only expression. On a closer inspection, however, you could see a certain light in his optics. He wasn't altogether displeased to see a new arrival. Standing somewhat awkwardly to the side, the young blue bot appeared delighted if not quite confused.

"Uh, long story, Ultra Magnus sir. I've been on this planet for some time. Found this little troublemaker when they were half their current size, and I've been raising 'em to help with our cause." Ironhide said affectionately, stepping back and dropping to one knee to be more on your level. Before you could puff up proudly at the praise, a single digit tussled your hair as he often did to tease, and you sputtered before playfully pushing him away and undoing the damage. Chuckling, he turned back to his comrades. "Never figured I'd bump into you all here! Jackie, Bulk, and uh..."

The attention turned to the young bot, who only smiled with a wave and a not offended clarification on his name.

"Smokescreen."

Wheeljack gave your dad a playful punch, still buzzing at seeing his old friend alive. The friendship you'd so frequently heard about was clear as day before you. "Glad to see you in one piece, old Rusthide."

"We've been here for years, Ironhide. How come we didn't detect you?" Bulkhead said, looking just as happy but burdened by the question at hand. Ironhide tapped his audial with a somewhat glum smile.

"Communicator's been busted for ages, all I've got is an earth link for cellphones." He said, recalling an injury he'd endured long before meeting you. The line he'd built relied on earth technology, and you still remembered how many tries it had taken to get it right. It was impossible to imagine a whole other team of beings like himself had been out there the whole time... Yet he didn't look at all regretful as he glanced down at you. "If I'd known I wasn't alone, I would have introduced myself and the kid ages ago. Looks like we've got my little one to thank for bringing us together."

You pouted and crossed your arms at the comment. "I'm not little anymore, dad."

"They did alright in a scrap, but how about we get you two back to base? I'm sure the other's will want to hear the story." Wheeljack said, easing your damaged pride with the compliment. You had indeed evaded those Vehicons for a good long while before being rescued... speaking of which, you could use a bit of rest somewhere secure.

Once more, Ultra Magnus stepped in to halt the festivities. "First; I shall communicate with Optimus and let him know what has transpired. He will likely want to meet you in person before we make any rash decisions."

"Seriously? Come on, Mags! Let's get this bot in an actual base!" Wheeljack replied in a huff, bringing back the arguing from before as if it had never stopped. Looking quite amused, Ironhide merely chuckled and offered you his hand, allowing you to get a lift onto his shoulders as was your custom. Clearly not phased by what he was seeing, the only parent you'd ever known let you get comfortable before following the group out of the partially collapsed cave. Who could have thought your simple little scouting mission would end like this?

"Come on kiddo." He said softly, watching the bickering with an expression of nostalgia. "I have a feeling things are about to get pretty interesting."

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #tfp #tf:p #prime #bulkhead #wheeljack #smokescreen #ultra magnus #ironhide #my writing #my asks #anon #human reader #self insert #requests

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zutarasecrettunnel · 3 years ago

Text

For Zutara Week 2021 Day 6: Spirits

Your Face, I See

Synopsis: The war is over for everyone but Katara, who keeps seeing the scarred face of the boy who sacrificed himself for her and for the world, everywhere she looks. When she finds out why she is experiencing these so-called hallucinations, she may be led right into a trap centuries in the making.

Read Chapter 1 here or on AO3:

After the war, scars were everywhere.

The earth lay scorched, trees stood singed, soldiers returned mangled to their homelands. The blemishes of war seemed to stain every surface, no mark more personal than the other, all a collective memory of survival for a world too long drenched in strife. None except for the mark that constantly haunted the waterbender. That mark was familiar. Each surface seemed to contain the same ragged skin, the same aged trauma, the same golden eyes.

It had been three months since she had escaped war into peacetime physically unscathed but obliterated nonetheless. Three months of seeing the scar that marked him, the banished prince of the Fire Nation, in nearly every object and landscape that entered her vision. It started in the Fire Nation palace only a week after the cacophony of flame and lightning that had ended the 100 Years War for good. Flickering flames cast the shadow of ruined layers of flesh, folded in on themselves like the staggering billows of crimson curtains they would appear behind. For months she stifled gasps as cat-like eyes seemed to watch her from around the imposing columns of the nation's grandest hall. Flashes, like the one that had taken him during the blaze of Sozin' comet, nothing but small jolts appearing out of nowhere like the snapping of a campfire during a ghost story.

The first time she saw him she almost believed he was real. His face had appeared in the blackness of the doorway of her borrowed chambers one night as she sat rocking at the edge of her bed, having only just awoken from another nightmare. In the soft candleglow, she had almost believed he had miraculously returned. This face was the one she remembered - taciturn, loyal, fragmented, handsome. It was not the ashen face of suffering he had held before finally succumbing to his family's dynasty of cruelty while his sister shrieked in her chains. This face, the one she had so long ago described as the face of the enemy, was the one she had begged the spirits to let her see ever since the Fire Sages had whisked his lifeless form away from her in the smoky aftermath of the Agni Kai.

But that's all it was. His face, unaccompanied by a body, and fading almost as soon as she had been able to adjust her eyes to the sight - a one-time hallucination brought on by sleeplessness. Just another aspect to the nightmare she was experiencing while awake and asleep, a side effect of watching a boy who had quickly become one of her closest friends die in her arms. As the plain blackness returned, so did Katara's heartbeat, sputtering back to work as if it had forgotten its role in her body and only just now remembered it had to keep her alive. She blinked again and again, feeling wetness on her cheeks. She would not sleep for the rest of the night.

It wasn't until the next time she saw him that she started to become concerned. His face appeared again ten days later, this time emanating from the bark of the willow tree near the royal turtleduck pond, illuminated plainly by the midday rays of the Fire Nation sun.This time it could not be blamed on candlelight and tired eyes. The waterbender gasped, dropping the rice ball she held. It rolled ungracefully into the pond, immediately being devoured by a small family of turtleducks.Her companions stopped their own consumption at the sound of her sharp intake. Sokka stared at his sister with concern. Suki followed her stare to the willow tree, looking back at the younger girl puzzled. Toph was the only one who continued nibbling absentmindedly on her own rice ball as if she hadn't noticed Katara's outburst at all.

"What is it?" Aang's voice broke through Katara's shock. She blinked, and already the second hallucination of the prince was gone.

"N-nothing," she stuttered, trying to recover, "it's nothing. I thought I saw a cave hopper and I-I-I thought they only lived in the caves!" She felt a reassuring touch on her elbow, looking to see Sokka offering a half-smile. He had noticed the deep circles forming under her eyes, the way any upturn of her mouth never reached them. Unsure of what else to do, he offered his presence as some semblance of reassurance to his sister, trying to impart that he was there for her no matter what.

"Oh," was the only response from the Avatar, hesitation clear in the single syllable. He hated seeing Katara like this, jumpy and anxious. None of them had been the same since Zuko had entered the spirit world, despite how they had all tried to move on. They had gotten everything they had worked for, an end to the century-long suffering of the four nations, but the cost seemed as if it was too great to bear. He worried he would never see the carefree Katara he had spent so much time trying to cultivate in the overburdened young girl again. The world was finally better, finally the way she deserved it to be, and yet he still couldn't make her happy.

The already somber mood of the group's lunch only soured more. It was then Katara decided she would work harder at keeping the ghostly image of the fire prince at bay, or at least keeping her hallucinations to herself. Despite her silent commitment, the visions only got worse. As time went on they became more frequent. First it became every day, then what seemed like every hour. Everywhere she went in the palace, in the streets of the capitol marketplaces, and even on the shores where she sought the healing nature of her element. Every inch of this vibrant and troubled nation was haunted for her, from the planned peace festivals to the pop-up protests of the now displaced ruling class. She stayed to help Aang restore order, working to ensure the stability of the nation her friend had so dearly loved, the nation whose honor he had sacrificed everything for.

With the increase in frequency of the hauntings, so increased the abject panic rising in Katara. It was becoming more difficult to hide her affliction from the others. After months of torment, while floating secluded in the star-speckled waves of a small, hidden inlet not far from the crater's edge, she finally asked for help.

The rising tide sent salt water lapping at her skin, while her eyes caused it to flood her face. She would often seek healing in these waters, but had so far been unsuccessful in drowning her grief. Tonight she basked in Yue's light, and finally got the courage to beg her celestial friend for relief.

She wasn't sure it would work, ignorant to the communication abilities of the spirits, but desperation consumed her. She had heard Sokka try talking to the moon shortly after they had left the Northern Water Tribe, sadness laden in his usually upbeat voice. She suddenly wondered if he had also seen visions of the princess after she had left them.

"Please, spirits. Please, Yue," she began her sorrowful overture to the large lunar surface overhead, floating parallel to the enormous heavenly body. "Why do I keep seeing him? Why do I keep seeing Zuko?"

She swallowed hard in the ensuing silence, trying to wait patiently for an answer. She was met only with a quiet, steady glow. Eyes closed tightly in despair, she listlessly started swimming back to the shore. As she neared the empty beach she heard the velvety cadence of the moon spirit speak softly between her ears.

"I know you miss him."

Katara froze in the water, settling upright, her toes sinking into silky sand. The ocean still covered her up to her shoulders. The voice arose in her again.

"Tui and La must circle each other in an eternal dance. One is not complete without the other. This is not what was meant to be," she explained. "Your anguish has pierced even the spirit world, and many have taken note."

Katara let her body sway loosely in the waves as she listened intently, her sand-covered feet her only anchor to this world.

"There are some that might use-" The sweet tones emanating from the pale night sky were sharply interrupted by a graveled voice. The new voice called out loudly, direct and authoritative.

"Katara!"

At the sound of that voice calling her name, she snapped her body toward the beach, searching the dimly lit shore for it's source. She hesitated for only a split second, taking one last glance at the moon, before summoning a grand swell of ocean to deliver her directly to the dry sands. Once ashore, she continued seeking the source of the voice. Her eyes darting from dark cliffs to jagged palm fronds, her heart beating wildly.

Finally she saw it, and immediately crumpled into the sand.

It was his face again, staring back at her from a rocky, moonlit crag. Just as it had been the hundred times before, his expression was serene, tranquil. Except this time it changed. This time the face curled into a twisted smile, an expression more suited for the deposed Phoenix King than his son. She stared, horrified, watching the distorted lips form the syllables of her name over and over. When it turned, revealing a hulking, segmented body like that of an enormous centipede, she finally screamed.

She could hear Zuko's voice continuing to call her name, begging her to help him, as she quickly picked herself off the ground and darted past the monster back toward the palace, heading recklessly into the heavy night.

#zutara #not me writing a whole ass chapter fic for zutara week!#it will not be done before the end of the week #but i will try not to abandon it!#zutara week 2021 #zutara fanfiction #better late than never #zk week 2021 #zutara week day 6 #this is gonna be a short chapter fic #with short chapters #unfortunately i dont have time to write an epic #im still on hiatus from my wip

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jgvfhl · 4 years ago

Text

Tup’s in A Better Place

This is a one shot in some AU where Fives and Tup both survive?? Or like... the chip is never revealed?? Idk that’s not the point of the writing, the point of the writing is Murder Tup being adopted by Alpha-17. Enjoy!

The new ARCs would be back from training in a few days, according to the dispatch from Kamino. The usual excitement was already sweeping through the 501st barracks in anticipation of their brothers returning after so long away. The shinies in Torrent were being regaled almost every night with stories about Tup and Jesse before they returned. Rex had sat in on a few of these sessions for his own amusement. Fives and Kix certainly weren’t leaving details to the imagination, although Rex didn’t quite believe some of the numbers they were throwing around. Half a platoon of SBDs seemed like a stretch. Even someone like Rex would be hard-pressed to scrap that many clankers at once, though he had come close a few times.

His comm beeped, pulling him from his thoughts. “Yes?”

“There’s a transmission here from Kamino for you, sir. Do you want me to forward it to your personal device?”

Kamino? “Uh, yes, forward it. Thanks, Spot.”

There was a brief pause, then Rex saw the light on his holoprojector turn on. “Sent, sir.”

“Got it, thanks.”

He clicked his comm off and picked up the holoprojector to read the frequency. Oh… this didn’t look good. Why would Alpha-17 be sending him a transmission a few days from the end of ARC training? But, he had to answer.

“This is a bit of a surprise, sir,” he said carefully after the miniature hologram of the ARC trainer appeared in front of him.

“You’re captain of Torrent Company, right?” Alpha replied bluntly. “I’m talking about one of your promotions.”

Rex sat up a little straighter. Had something happened to Jesse or Tup? “Sir?”

“I have to report to you that your kid Tup isn’t coming back from ARC training with the others.”

“What?” he blurted before he could stop himself, very glad he was in his quarters and not somewhere more public. “Why--what happened? Is he hurt?” Injuries were part of ARC training. It wasn’t uncommon for troopers to come back from the program with new scars and stories. More… permanent issues were rare, but not impossible. If it was possible for cadets not to make it through basic training, it was possible for troopers not to make it through the more rigorous ARC program. But… Tup?

The way Alpha’s head moved implied an eye-roll. “Quit sobbing, Rex’ika, you’re a damn officer, not his mother. The kid’s in a better place now.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, sir?” Rex demanded, bristling at the kiddie nickname.

“It means--” The trainer’s answer was cut short by a loud commotion in the background of the transmission. It was loud enough to carry to Rex’s ears.

“Take that, Hutt sludge! I’ve eaten kriffing bugs tougher than you, tooka brains!” This enraged outburst was followed by the unmistakable sounds of blaster fire and armored bodies hitting the ground. From what Rex recalled, it sounded like a training run--one with droids and obstacles and the like.

Alpha’s helmet was turned to watch whatever chaos was unfolding out of view. “Move it, kid!” he yelled, then turned back to Rex. “Anyway, he’s mine now.”

For what felt like way too long, Rex just stared at Alpha’s hologram, trying to put together what had happened. Those insults were characteristic of the 501st. And Rex had heard Tup use “tooka brains” on more than one occasion. So that was definitely Tup in the background. Which meant Alpha-17 really had been talking about Tup when he’d claimed him. But what… did that mean?

“Legally, I had to let you know,” Alpha went on when Rex’s stunned silence continued. “He’ll be staying with me a bit longer. The kid’s got a real spark, y’know, real thirst for blood--”

Against his better judgement, Rex interrupted him. “Sir, what do you mean Tup’s ‘yours?’ He’s part of Torrent; he’s under my command.” Then the second half of Alpha’s statement caught up to him. “And--thirst for blood?”

“Don’t interrupt me, soldier.”

Rex’s mouth snapped shut automatically. Then he opened it again because he still had a lot of questions, but Alpha inclined his head in just the way he only did when giving a death glare, and Rex shut his mouth again.

“As I was saying, Tup’s shown some real incentive during ARC training, and I think he’d benefit from a bit of a level up.”

“Level up?”

“Yes.”

Sorting through the small planet’s worth of questions in his mind, Rex settled on, “Will Tup ever be back with the 501st, sir?” Or are you stealing one of my ARCs from under my nose? his mind completed. He’d nominated Tup and Jesse for promotion because he’d expected to get both of them back.

Alpha was pensively quiet for a moment before replying, “Tell you what: when your boys in blue need some backup, he’ll be first in line for you.”

Rex blinked. “So, I have to find someone else to fill the position I assumed Tup would be able to fill?”

“You’ve got plenty of material, stop whining. You can still contact him. It’s not like he’s going undercover or into intelligence.”

“Oh, good, we can contact him in all that spare time you’re famous for giving your troopers,” Rex replied instantly, the shock of the conversation having shredded his normal verbal filters.

Alpha’s helmet tilted to one side. Before whatever biting retort came, however, Tup’s voice carried through again, sounding closer than before. “All set, sir.” And sounding a bit out of breath. “Accidently took the head off one of the training droids, but I set a new time record, so I’m calling it even.”

“Good work, kid,” the trainer said.

“Is that Captain Rex?”

Alpha handed the holoprojector over, and Tup’s figure replaced his in front of Rex. “Hey, Tup.”

Tup beamed, training helmet tucked under one arm. “Hi, Captain!” His bun was a frizzy mess from the session he’d just finished, and one of his cheeks looked like it was healing from a nasty bruise, but other than that, he was glowing.

“Do you know about this arrangement Alpha’s set up?” Rex asked, not caring if the trainer didn’t want to talk about it.

Tup’s expression turned a little sheepish. “Yeah… look, I know you wanted Jess and me back with the 501st, but I’m doing really good with this.”

Rex nodded, unable to resist a small smile. “Okay. As long as you’re on the same page.”

Tup perked back up. “Hey, maybe I can visit, though--”

“No.”

“No, but you said I wouldn’t be deployed all the time, so maybe instead of going on leave I can join some of their campaigns.” He looked to Alpha out of view, turning up what Torrent had affectionately named the Tuppy Eyes.

Rex almost snorted, but he did smirk. There was no way they would work on Alpha.

There was a long pause. Longer than it should have been. The smirk started slipping from Rex’s face.

“No.”

“Please?”

Another long pause. “I’ll have to ask General Skywalker.”

“Thank you, sir!”

Holy kriff.

Tags! @big1ron @im-x-winging-it @423rd-solar-legion @raf-loves-everything @sw-maddie @soclonely @mrfandomwars @sophaeltheangel @23-bears @padme--amygdala

#my writing #my fanfiction #tcw fanfic #alpha 17 #clone trooper tup #captain rex #murder tup #murder babey #alpha is not immune to the tuppy eyes

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yummysweetroll · 4 years ago

Photo

So cold, so Warm.

Butch's pipboy made a soft static sound. For a few days now, nothing connected in that frequency, not even a cry for help or even that annoying Sugarbombs advertisement, just silence ... And that was a bad sign, after all, it is an indication that there was no settlement or big city in the next few miles of road and all Anna wanted most on this cold night, was now to sleep in a bed with a frayed mattress from any inn.

See more here! ⤵⤵

The radio was still hissing when the first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon. The night fog still lingered, making it difficult to see while keeping everything chilly. Anna shivered with cold, trying to cover herself with the Tunnel Snakes jacket and scarf, while Butch buried his nose in his scarf and muttered under his breath. Thank heavens, for a few days ago they helped a family and they offered some warm clothing as a reward. Turning her arm a little, the girl checked her pip-boy, March 20, the first day of spring.

"Butch, today is the first day of spring!" -She commented trying to liven up the walk -

"Yeah? And ?!" - Butch replied back looking out of the corner of his eye-

“Sooo, I thought maybe, we'll feel less cold on the road… And they say it's time for flowers and birds.” - ignoring her road partner's initial bad mood-

“And what difference does that make now, Nosebleed? We are going north, it will get colder each day and there will be only snow! It is simple, or have you forgotten Broch's classes? Besides, do you think we will find some beautiful flowering field with birds and bees in this nuclear desolation? You're too naive "- He took his hand out of his pocket and pointed at Anna-" If it weren't for your idiocy of wanting to compensate for the Tin Brotherhood, we could be in Rivet City, in that warm room.

Anna snorted, of course she remembered the annoying geography lessons! She also remembers the conversations the two had, about the world outside the Vault and the times they received punishments for talking about it ... And now that they're being able to make everything real and make all the punishments count, he wants to keep his butt in that rusty bathtub? In a place that resembles and feels the same claustrophobic feeling that was the vault? Besides, why flying so many grumpy words at her? Was the cold her fault? Didn't he understand how much debt she owed to the Brotherhood of Steel? They saved her!

"Shut up! If you wanted to be comfortable so much, then you should have stayed in the Vault. Sure you would be warm and living the same life! You came because you wanted to, I didn't ask to follow me. I just thought that… ”- The girl's voice gave a little hesitation and a lump in her throat was installed, along with some tears-“ Damn it, Deloria! ”

Butch opened his mouth to retort, but before he even said anything, Anna stepped up and disappeared into the mist. The boy stopped walking and called her a few times, but there were no answers. What did he do this time? His mind ran through his last sentences, did Anna think he regretted accompanying her? Does she think it's her fault for things going wrong? He had no doubts about that.

"Moron." -That was the only word that crossed Butch's head as he advanced through the fog after the girl. Since when she completed her father's project and woke up in the Brotherhood hospital, after that radiation bath and thank God with all her hair on her head, Anna started to blame herself for many things, be it the death of her father, the other scientists and even for the coma that the blond soldier finds himself in - "You idiot."

Turning off the Pip-boy, Butch managed to follow the small sounds of sobbing and it didn't take long to find the crouching girl crying behind a rut.

"Anna." - Butch called her seriously. And the way the girl's green eyes looked back at him, it looked like he wasn't expecting that. "Anna, are you going to tell me what's going on or are you playing hard to get?"

The girl swallowed her cry, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the tip of her scarf.

“II, B-Butch .... There is so much going on, so much problems that I have to solve and that almost always ends with someone I like injured or… dead. It is being difficult and too heavy to handle alone. - She paused to get her thoughts in order, Butch did not move or spoke in fear that she would stop talking - “And I don't want this anymore, I don't want to have to take responsibility for others, I don ' t want to decide the future of the world anymore. But I do everything the same, I don't change anything ... You're right to want to make up for it, and look at us now, it's really my fault that we're in this situation, for being away from home, for being hungry and cold, for having this stupid mission. Sorry Butch, I also wanted to be in River City ... But I also wanted to be on the road with you by my side, discovering and making all those detentions we took for dreaming about being here worthwhile. I'm sorry if I got you involved in my problems again. -She finished lowering her eyes again-

She let it all out, almost without pause. Her eyes cried again and Butch crouched down beside her and stroked her head. He sighed and as he put together a sentence, thoughts of her traveled a bit to when they lived in the vault. Since childhood, Butch had to deal with an Anna who lived under pressure to do what society or her father expected, always smiling and as if she were happy ... even if it was totally contrary to what she wanted and believed, And every time those tearful green eyes came to meet him, the boy did exactly as he did now, let her vent (even if he didn't hear much of the complaint) and stroked her head.

It is unknown how long the two stayed there, but it was long enough for Butch to think about something, the sobs to stop and all that morning fog to dissipate.

“Thank you,” replied Anna quietly, still buried in the scarf.

Butch smiled as he took Anna's hand and held it up. He knew that his "tough guy" pose was almost always undone when he saw her crying face ... After all, she was always his best friend and all that silly nonsense that the woman who married the priest comments on about soul mate.

“It's ok, Crybaby. Of course, I was mad at the cold, you know I hate cold ... But I'm glad I came with you, I learned a few things and met a lot of nice people. Besides, that's what I… sorry, we always wanted to do it! - Then he left his tender voice, to bring his traditional debauchery voice - And of course I couldn't leave an idiot like you alone here ... That's what I'm here for, because I can do a lot of things, shoot , stab, make you start to cry and stop and… ”

“Butchieeeee, you always destroy that romantic climate” - interrupted the girl with giggles, pushing him - And you always complain that I'm not "romantic enough".

Butch smiled smugly, of course there was more that the boy wanted to say to her. But at that moment, it was enough, probably because she wouldn't be able to get rid of this burden so fast.

A strong wind hit them and with his free arm Butch protected her as she hugged him back. When they opened their eyes they realized that the last remnants of mist had disappeared, presenting them with an image that they had only seen in black and white in the films or in the biology books ... A green field dotted with colorful flowers with a few birds flying over them. The two exclaimed in awe as they watched the rare landscape.

"And that talk about not having a place like that ?." - Anna commented softly-

"Shut up." - Butch replied smiling.

_____________________________________________________

Heey!

❤ Another drawing following the list of clothes and with a little story !! ❤

The truth is that this time it took me longer to write than to draw. 😥😥

Do you like posts like that? Do you think it's worth it?

That drawing came from this list!

✨ OC Outfit Doodle Asks ✨

I want to use this list to train poses, clothes and everything! So please, send an emoji from the list and I'll draw Butch and Anna!

#butch deloria #butch x lone wanderer #lone wanderer #female lone wanderer #Anna Maria #fallout OC #fallout 3 #fallout #Fallout Art #FO3 #FO3 OC #fallout fanart #Fanart #fallout fic #fanfic #OC #pipboy #cold temperature #warm heart

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that-damn-girl · 5 years ago

Text

(5) Bucky and The Bed

Completed

Chapter 4

Bucky and The Bed Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (cis)fem!reader

Words: 3700+

Summery: You and Bucky are stranded in the middle of a snowy nowhere when there is an 'electronic blackout' during your mission. With no back ups or any way to contact your team, you take refuge from the worsening weather in the only cabin you find in miles. Not to mention, with no power, Bucky has become your personal heater and there's only one bed.

Chapter type: Fluff.

Chapter/Triger warning: None that I can think of except for ‘highly self-indulgent’.

A/N: This is in submission to the lovely @sweater-daddiesdumbdork ‘s Any-Fucking-Fandom Fic Challenge. Check it out! My prompt is below.

Calloused fingertips ran slowly through your hair, absent-mindedly drawing varied patterns with gentle prolonged strokes. Eyes closed, you basked in the alleviating motion. The faint pressure of his tips combing through your scalp lulled you into a deep state of relaxation. Not that you'd been stressed before, but you welcomed the calming drift with open arms.

Head perched on Bucky's lap, you laid comfortably along the width of the bed on your back. The headboard of the bed supported Bucky's back as his legs were stretched, ankles crossed.

Flesh hand racking through your locks, his metal one was encompassed in the heat of your hold. It felt cool to touch, much cooler than the rest of him, but it had a certain aura of warmth. Languidly, you traced the smooth plates making up his palm and fingers and the back of his hand, committing every cranny, every nook to memory.

Your tips climbed up and down the dips of his knuckles, rounding the impeccably curved tips now and then. They seemed crafted as well as the natural human ones. With the whole of his metal arm being that way, you didn't know why you were so amazed by the uncanny resemblance.

Sweeping over the sleek black and gold plates over and over again, mapping the blend of contours and arcs, you said, "Never did I ever think I'd be tired of being uselessly free."

From studying the simple joints of wood panels on the ceiling, Bucky's eyes drifted down to you when you spoke, trailing over your delicate features and then again. Just because. He never thought he'd ever get tired of admiring your beauty anyways.

Eyelids shut, you looked content and yet dejected as your head rested on his lap. He knew you felt bored, hence the look of dejection maybe. He only hoped his presence was the cause of the slight contentment you felt.

It had been a couple of days since Bucky was able to contact Sam; three since they took refuge in this small cabin. There really was nothing to do except for eat, sleep, and repeat.

Chuckling, Bucky said, "It kinda reminds me of the time in Wakanda."

Opening your eyes and slightly craning your neck, you glanced at him. Though he looked at you, his eyes held a faraway gaze, as if having found a distant memory and reminiscing in it. Closing your eyes, you settled in more comfortably. You loved hearing stories about his experience in the astounding African country.

"Tell me about it."

Though you couldn't see him, you knew he wore a bright smile as he remembered the days. You interlaced your fingers with his metal fingers as his flesh ones occasionally twirled a few locks of your hair.

This was new, the touching at every moment, only for more to be followed in the next. Bucky Barnes was a reserved man. He did want a soft and comforting touch, but there weren't many people to give him that.

Steve, yes. Sam, sometimes. It wasn't as if he was open to letting others touch him either. He sought out the familiarity in the amiable contact, the assurance of no ill content behind it.

The past decade had taught him to believe a touch only meant one thing. Pain.

You had been with him as long as Sam had, but he was only able to open up to you in the recent few years. He had become comfortable with you. Didn't have any qualms about feeling your skin on him.

But there was always a limit. There was always a limit to how much he'd let someone in.

In the past few days, however, you and him seemed to literally keep in touch at all times of the day. Asleep or awake. It happened involuntarily, really. As if your hearts made decisions of their own, claiming what they desired.

Bucky had noticed that and so did you, but neither dared to comment on it. Afraid of making the other more conscious. Of losing the closeness it had brought along. Of losing the joy it brought to your hearts with just a touch.

Bucky tried to convince himself that it was because you needed it, the warmth the super soldier serum provided him. But what was the explanation of the warmth you gave him, without any enhancements?

You needed him, but he was no longer able to deny that he needed the feel of your touch much more desperately. He needed it every second of the day since he'd had a taste of it. A taste of what it felt like to be around you at all times. A taste of heaven which you brought to him.

From every fortunate moment he woke up with you in his arms to sleep in the same way, he'd cherished it deeply. He loved cuddling with you and being cozy. Whether you cooked, or ate, or just were together, you'd always found a way to touch each other.

Your touch had become familiar to him in such a soothing way; he'd been accustomed to it so well, he didn't even want to imagine how being without it would feel like once you'd return.

But he didn't want to burden the pleasant moment by worrying about the future. Choosing to savour it as long as he could, he clutched your hand protectively in his as your fingers linked. Warmth spread across his metal arm and it tickled as the heat made its way through his heart.

Sighing contentedly, he began, "After Shuri was able to get the effect of the words out of me, I was free to live outside the palace and with the crowd. I'd go to therapy daily at first, but the frequency decreased eventually.

"My only purpose there was to recover, to relax, so I didn't really have anything productive to do. The children would play with me and braid my hair, but there's only so much of that which could be done.

"I felt so useless there, I begged T'Challa to give me some work." He paused, laughing before he continued, "I remember the look Okoye gave me. She thought I was a dumb old bitch. Wanting to work when free time was gifted to me on a gold platter."

Bucky looked down at you when you chuckled. A beautiful smile graced your face, lightening up the glow already there. His pride swelled up a little, knowing and liking the fact that he could make you smile.

Beaming widely, he added, "I did the work they already had machines for. Loading and unloading. Carrying things from one place to the other. Just helping anyway I could, even if they didn't require it." He sighed, "Maybe I really was a dumb old bitch."

Chuckling again, you tried to imagine as you said, "Ah, city boy turned farm boy. What a sight it would have been."

"Picture oily, greasy hair, and mud ridden clothes. That's how it was like." He said.

Opening your eyes, you cheekily grinned at him, "I bet you still looked damn good, Bucky."

Feeling colour rising to his cheeks, he was sure he would've stuttered had he spoken anything. You saved him from that, "I've always wondered if the serum prevented you from being ticklish."

"Why?" The word wasn't even out of his mouth when your fingers teased the sides of his torso. The furrow of his brows instantly morphed into a merry stance as he snickered.

"Stop," He wheezed when you sat up and tickled him with all your might. Hands roamed over all the tickle inducing spots you could reach.

"Y/N, wait," His eyes crinkled as he laughed. Seeing him squirm under you, you giggled along with him, enjoying the elated mirth on his face.

Pleading requests reached your ears between huffs of gleeful laughter. His hands tried to reach yours, swiftly shifted out of his reach. Not for long though.

Soon the tables were turned. His hands caught up to you. When he started tickling your spots, you tried to shrunk into a ball.

"Bucky!" You cried, eyes closing as you laughed joyfully.

"Nuh uh, doll, you brought this on yourself." Snickering along, Bucky said mischievously as his hands lightly stroked your sides and under your chin.

You wiggled under him, but he didn't let you escape. His fingers danced along your body. You shrieked with mirthful laughter when he reached a particular spot.

Your arms thrashed about as you tried to stop him. Bucky caged your hand in his when they hit his chest. Laughing still, he placed them by your head bent over you.

Giggling softly, you slowly opened your eyes as you calmed down from the high. You saw Bucky holding you down, a light chuckle playing on his lips. Suddenly you realised how really close he was.

Long dark locks framed his features as he leaned over you. His scruff had grown in the few days you were here. You decided you quite liked the look on him.

You wondered if he was open to the idea of growing his beard again. Bearded Bucky was a spectacular look after all.

Delight was clear in his expression as his blue eyes stared into your own. Upon such close inspection, you realised there was a bit of greyish touch to his eyes. Almost as if they could be called ocean grey.

How many before you had realised it? Or if it was your mind making you see things because it was clouded with the fact of your close proximity?

Bucky's lips were plump and pink. They seemed much more bright and colourful against his pale skin in the extreme cold. Did his lips look this rosy before?

Bucky saw your eyes drifting across his face as a realization struck them. Your smile faded slowly but the dazzle in your made up for it as they took in every feature. When your eyes dropped to his lips, they stayed there for a while.

He couldn't help but glance down at your lips. Slightly parted, they looked so soft. He wondered how sweet they tasted. Overcome by an urge to kiss you deeply and find out for himself, he looked at your eyes and back down at your lips.

It was only then that he realised how close he'd gotten to you. His breath hitched at that moment. He became nervous all of a sudden.

Yes, you two had been close ever since this fiasco started, but never like this. This was new to the both of you.

Something must have given him away, because he felt you stiffen under him. You too had realised close proximity.

He was worried you'd pull away. Not that you could with bed beneath you, but you could always turn your head sideways. You didn't. Instead, your lips only parted a little more.

Only inches apart, he could feel everytime you exhaled. His heart raced with the possibilities of every outcome if he leaned down just a little more. How it could turn out, just like he'd dreamed about it. How he could finally have you as his.

And then the negative outcomes swarmed his brain. What if he was reading all the signs wrong? Granted he was an expert in body language, yet he wasn't a mind reader.

If he did close the gap but you didn't want it to happen, he could lose a good friend to awkwardness. There were also days to be cut until either of you would separate from each other.

The tension would be unbearable if you rejected his advances. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let any of that happen at all.

Bucky Barnes was a fucking coward and so were you.

Reluctantly, he pulled back. You didn't want him to, but you didn't stop him either. Freeing your hands, he sat on his knees beside you. Leaning on the heel of your palms, you sat up too.

Bucky couldn't meet your eyes as he looked down at his lap. You were much the same beside him.

The tension was so thick you swore it could be cut with a knife. Bucky didn't want to make things awkward, but it had already gotten so.

After spending a pleasant time together, you didn't want anything to become a thorn between the two of you. Without thinking, you quickly spoke, "Let's dance."

Bucky furrowed his brows, confusion overtaking his expression, "You wanna dance?"

"Yeah, let's." You shrugged, "It's not like we got anything better to do."

Bucky opened his mouth but closed it when nothing came to his mind. If you were trying to steer the two of you away from the unwanted tension, you were definitely succeeding. There was just one problem though. "I don't remember how to dance."

"It's okay. It's not like I'm Micheal Jackson either." Bucky was glad the reference wasn't lost on him. The spider kid was doing a good job updating him with all the highlights of the past century he'd missed.

Getting off the bed, you extended an arm towards him. Figuring just rolling with your idea would be easier than acknowledging the moment earlier, he followed you suit.

As he stepped in front of your form, you were unsure where to place your hands. Keeping some distance, you kept arms on his shoulder and linked your fingers behind his head. He brought his hands to your sides, holding you loosely.

You were close but not like before. He seemed to be fine with it and so were you.

You started with shifting your weight on either of your legs, proceeding to sway your body gradually from side to side and moving about in the small space of the room. He directed his body along with yours, going at it with the pace you set.

"There is no music, you know." He remarked.

You pretend to give it thought, "I would be all poetic and say the birds are chirping and that's music enough, but the thing is there are no birds around. Or any living things for that matter."

Bucky scrunched up his nose, "Sounds a little creepy, doesn't it?"

You nodded, "Yeah. Why don't you sing?"

"Uh, no. I don't want your ears to bleed." He chuckled.

You tilted your head, "Come on, you can't be that bad."

"Well, I am that bad. Deal with it." He said

You rolled your eyes comically at him, "Fine."

He raised a brow, "Why don't you sing?"

Not wanting to disclose your singing abilities to him, or rather the lack of it, you said, "Oh, just shut up and dance with me."

Snickering, he replied, "As you say, Ma'am."

Bringing your hands down to his side, you encircled them around his waist and placed your head on his shoulder. Swaying softly to the beat of your own heart, you enjoyed the rhythm already set.

It wasn't really dancing per se, but it sure was relaxing. His warmth seeped into you through the embrace and. You relished in the feel of it. His heartbeat was clear under your ears, lulling you into a tranquil state.

Bucky liked the weight of your head on his shoulders. The way your hands were clasped behind his back. He felt whole in a way he couldn't really describe. Resting his cheek on your head, his hands tightened their hold around you.

The quiet around you was comforting instead of unnerving like you had anticipated. You didn't complain.

You spent a long time swaying in each other's arms. It felt good, being held like this in Bucky's warm embrace. You enjoyed the moment as long as you could.

Slowly, in a voice so low he thought he might have missed, you said, "I miss Sam, you know."

Bucky felt a pang of jealousy hit him. Not that he had anything against Sam. In all honesty, he missed their banters and the constant quipping at each other. He missed his friend too, but a sense of insecurity followed as well. Would you have preferred Sam over him to be here with you?

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you continued, "Ever since we were active paramilitary, it was I, him and Riley, together everywhere. When Riley..."

You trailed off. Memories of the wonderful times with your late friend surfaced up. A lump formed in your throat at the onslaught of pictures flashing before your eyes of Riley pummelling to his death.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and tried to calm down. You bit your lower lip to prevent it from trembling. Years later, the guilt of not being able to save him still lingered.

Who else would know better than Bucky how it felt losing your best friend? The constant guilt which ate you up when you thought it was your doing. The rethinking of every decision made which led you to lose them. The never ending 'What if's.

He had fallen down that rabbit hole too many times, and you were always there to pick him up. He wasn't about to back out when his turn came.

Feeling a warm hand pet your head softly, you looked up at Bucky. He didn't say anything, but he smiled sweetly, encouraging you to continue.

"It was hard to deal with it, but we coped up together. Sam and I, we got closer than ever. He became like the brother I never had."

Bucky knew it wasn't the time, but he sighed in relief. It was all brotherly and sisterly and platonic love between you and him. Before he could celebrate though, you proceeded.

"Sam and I were inseparable after that, you know. Imagine my surprise when the one time I don't go on a morning run with him and he meets Captain fucking America."

You laughed at the memory of how mad you'd been at yourself for oversleeping that particular day. Sam had had to do quite some work to cheer you up.

"After the both of us became Avengers, we usually went on missions together. If we weren't on the same missions, or when I was on one while he was at home, the work to be done didn't let my mind wander. Even after he took the mantle, it was the same between us."

You sighed, "It just feels weird, spending all of my free time being away from him."

Glancing up at him, you kept your chin on his chest. Displaying a cheeky grin, you said, "But I am glad I have you here, Bucky. I like spending time with you, getting to know you better."

Bucky felt his heart soar within his chest. He couldn't contain the joy he felt at hearing that. Smiling widely, he tightened his arms around your waist, "I like spending time with you too, Y/N."

Placing your head on his chest once again, you said, "I think I'm gonna miss this when we get back. All these moments. This closeness we've had." You added for good measure, "You were the best cuddle pillow I've ever had, after all."

Bucky chuckled softly, his chest reverberating as he did. Perhaps the intimacy you'd developed was only because of the circumstances you were put in, but he didn't want to lose it. Only if as friends, the two of you had grown much more closer than before.

Just like you, he feared that when you'd be back to your normal lives, this connection would be lost. He didn't want to squander all the progress he had made with you.

But he also didn't want to fritter away the time he had with you right then only to worry about what would or could happen. He promised himself to appreciate and cherish any moment he had the chance to spend with you.

Softly, he said, "Don't worry about it, doll. We got enough time for that later. All we have is now."

"All we have is now." You repeated, snuggling closer to him, luxuriating in the feel of his arms around you and savouring the warmth of his embrace in the cold.

The bliss didn't last long though. There was a petty itch in your eyes, promoting you to bring your hands up to rub your lids.

Bucky pulled back when he felt the movement against him, "Hey, what happened?"

Face half covered with your palm as you tried to get rid of the itch, you said, "Something got into my eyes maybe."

"Don't rub your eyes. You're only going to worsen it." He tried to pull your hand away from your face.

Whatever it was, it irritated and burned the sensitive tissue of your eyes. You had to forcefully will yourself to let Bucky drag your hand away.

Leaning into you, he cupped your face in his hands and puckered his lips to softly blow on your eyes. Hot puffs of air hit you as he tried his best to relieve the itch. Keeping your eyes open was hard, but soon the unwanted particle was driven out.

"Better?" He asked.

"Yeah, thanks." You muttered.

You realised a little too late the close proximity between you too. It was that moment again , rekindling the fire which wasn't really put off before.

Your breaths slowed and your heart thumped loudly in your ears. Bucky could feel the erratic beats of your heart against him. He heard you gulp as you stared intently into his eyes which looked hungry yet gentle.

Your pupils dilated as your gaze fell down to his lips, lingering there before coming back to his eyes. Pushing your tongue out, you tentatively licked your lips teasingly slow.

Your lips glistened as Bucky glanced at them. They looked soft and delicious, and Bucky had never wanted to taste anything as bad as them.

He had stopped himself from doing exactly that for a reason before, but with his brain clouded with thoughts about you and your lips, he couldn't remember why. It was as if his mind had stopped working, which he didn't doubt it had.

Bouts of confidence hit him in that moment, overhauling his senses and preventing him from thinking about anything else. Would it really be wrong to have your lips on his, to taste the sweetness of you? It was all he'd desperately wanted to do since a long time but never dared to.

Throwing all caution to the wind, he finally leaned down...

The divider is made by @writeyourmindaway

Chapter 6

I think you all know ensues next. 😏

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ad1thi · 4 years ago

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@starklysteve rhae asked for some winteriron recs (read: i volunteered to spam rhae w buckytony fics because i adore them), so in no particular order, and based on my memory alone, here are some of my favourite buckytony fics!!

(please remember to leave kudos and comments!!)

American Memorial: @/spqr

“Pick up the shield,” Tony said. Understandably, Bucky told him to go fuck himself

Losing You (Is My Supervillain Origin Story): @amethystinawrites

There are a lot of things that Bucky regrets. The list is, quite frankly, longer than he can handle on most days and, right at the very top, is lying to Tony about who killed his parents. Bucky has known even from before they started dating, but he simply can't bring himself to say anything — to ruin one of the few good things he has in his life. It's selfish and wrong, but Bucky just doesn't know how to tell Tony that he is the one responsible for Howard and Maria Stark's deaths.

So when he starts receiving anonymous emails, threatening to expose the truth to Tony and the rest of the world, Bucky is desperate enough to agree to the blackmailer's terms, even if it means breaking up with Tony. Bucky cannot, under any circumstances, let Tony find out about his parents from anyone but Bucky himself.

Too late Bucky realizes that there is much more to the blackmailer's scheme than just having Bucky break Tony's heart. Too late Bucky realizes that despite his best intentions, he will still end up losing everything — in a much more permanent way than he could ever have imagined.

Hindsight: @amethystinawrites

Ever since he was a little boy, Bucky has dreamed of becoming an astronaut together with Steve, and he can hardly believe their luck when both of them are picked for the Ares 3 crew — the third expedition sent to explore Mars. It is, quite literally, a dream come true.

Things get complicated when Bucky finds himself inconveniently attracted to their mechanical engineer, however. Tony Stark is funny, competent, and absolutely captivating, but considering NASA's strict non-fraternization policy, Bucky knows it's better to keep his interest to himself — at least until they return to Earth. He can wait.

Not once does Bucky consider the possibility that all of them might not make it back alive, or just how much he'll come to regret not acting when he had the chance.

Arsenal: @tangodancer91 (part of a series) (also my all time favourite buckytony series ever)

Two years after the Civil War that tore apart everything she’d bled to build, Toni Stark sacrificed herself for her newly-reinstated teammates and ended up stranded in the past. Freed of her name, her fortune, and her hostile ex-teammates, she built herself a life as an agent for the OSS, the American secret service, and, having nothing to lose, accepted a mission to infiltrate the newest player in the war: an organization that call themselves HYDRA.

Then, she met a young draftee with a dreadfully familiar face, and they clicked like she had never clicked with anyone before. By the time she realized she’d fallen for the man who’d cost her everything, it was too late, but she’d always been an all or nothing type of girl, and if she was damning herself, well then…might as well go all the way.

Yield: @aurumacadicus (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

All Bucky has ever wanted was to win the contest for Tony's hand in marriage. It's a bit harder now that he's down to one arm, but luckily his friends are willing to help make up the difference.

Barnes Family Motors Inc: @phlintandsteel-ao3 (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

In a world where alphas legally own omegas, Bucky is just a small time mechanic from Brooklyn who gets lucky in a poker game. Tony is an omega whose life is fraught with abuse, until his luck suddenly takes a turn for the better.

In the grand scheme of things they may only be able to make little differences in the lives of those around them, but that doesn't mean it's not worth making them. After all, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

The Long Con (don’t kid yourself): @phlintandsteel-ao3

When Tony finds out that Howard is thinking about changing the terms of Tony’s trust fund, he embarks on a not-so-elaborate scheme to prove that he’s totally settling down and not in continued need of Howard’s “guidance” until 25 instead of 21. Step 1: Get a fiance Step 2: ??? Step 3: Profit (Finally be free of Howard)

Unfortunately, Tony Stark is the worst con-artist ever, and may only be kidding himself..

Hot Mess: @/niki

“Would serve him right if we had the world's most ill-advised one night stand.”

Imperceptions and Assumptions: @/NarutoRox

Afterward, Bucky would look back on their first meeting with fondness and a healthy dose of amusement. At the time, though, he’d mostly been confused - and more than a little embarrassed.

Bucky hadn’t paid much attention to the media in his early days, and hadn’t bothered really reading up on the team or anything, either, so when Steve had said ‘Tony Stark’, Bucky had just assumed.

The same way he’d looked at the three people who’d walked through the door - an imposing redhead in heels, a bored-looking brunette who dimpled when she saw him and Steve, and a sturdy-looking man wearing a slight glower - locked eyes on the man, and assumed him to be the infamous Tony Stark Steve wouldn’t shut up about.

It was Bucky’s first lesson when it came to Natasha Antonia ‘Toni’ Stark - never assume.

In which Tony Stark is actually Natasha Antonia 'Toni' Stark (which everyone knows) as well as Iron Man (which everyone does not know), assumptions are made, and there are misunderstandings.

From this prompt: How about a cross between my two favorite tropes? Nobody knows who iron man is other than Natasha/Antonia Stark's bodyguard but Bucky is in love with one or both of them

i know, you know (that i’m not telling the truth) : @imposter-human

psychic tony stark is called to work a routine case with detective bucky barnes; only, he seems to be more connected to the case than anyone thought

or, a psych au!!

the new romeo and juliet: @imposter-human

Bucky and Tony weren’t dating, because a firefighter and a detective couldn’t date (never mind that Tony hadn’t slept with anyone else since their thing had started, and he and Bucky hung out with an alarming frequency, and the whole precinct thought that they were an item). It didn't matter how many nights they spent together, how Bucky had a drawer of Tony's things and vice versa, they just couldn't.

It was a classic Romeo and Juliet situation, if Romeo and Juliet actively disliked each other on top of everything.

if found, please return to: @capnshellhead

Tony Stark shows up at Bucky's bar after a really tough break up and Bucky decides to look after him

gods of carnage: @deathsweetqueen (part of a series)

On May 29, 1970, the Winter Soldier feels a burning sensation and looks down at his wrist to find a single name written in enduring ink: Antonia Margaret Stark.

HYDRA, fearing the defiance of their greatest asset due to a bond that cannot and will not be denied its due, immediately dispatches the Soldier, to locate, collect and deliver this newborn girl to HYDRA, which will become her new home, her new family and her entire world - to be raised as another one of HYDRA’s great warriors: their Engineer.

But the Engineer is a faulty asset. She thinks things that may get her killed one day. She wants things that she shouldn’t, that are not hers to want. She has a mind and body that belong more to herself than any handler, than any commander she may have.

And if she cuts her strings, when she cuts her strings, well, when you put sheep next to wolves, you ask for a bloodbath.

where i walk, you follow (where i burn, you burn): @deathsweetqueen

At his father's command, Anthony Stark trades in his northern keep for a southern crown, wedded and bedded by Alexander of House Pierce, First of His Name.

Tony does his duty, becomes a wolf in name only, toothless and clawless, and a dark, gleaming ornament for the King, even if he would make himself a widower a hundred times over.

Honour demanded it of him, and so he did.

But it is Ser James Barnes, named the Kingslayer for his sins during the Rebellion, that draws his eye, gives him comfort in this pit of liars and monsters

So, what is honour compared to a good man's love? They are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love.

[Fic by deathsweetqueen, Art by MassiveSpaceWren]

Cat Parenting (And Other Meet Cutes): @singingwithoutwords (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

Of all the ways Bucky could have finally gotten a chance to speak to his crush, why did it have to be his cat getting Tony's cat pregnant?

Codename Heartbreaker: @rinnwrites (part of a series)

Today was a day that, contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark had most certainly not been looking forward to. It was election day, or election night, rather, and the polls were closed, the results were in; Howard Stark was the next President of the United States of America.

Tony Stark Bingo - R3: Election Day

Fate Strings Not Required: @akira-of-the-twilight

“Hey doll,” a new voice said from Tony’s side.

Tony glanced at the person approaching.

Someone was working the rugged, bad boy look. The new guy rocked a leather jacket and blue jeans.

His blue eyes lit up with joy as he approached Tony. “Something wrong here?” The new guy gave the first guy--the one insisting he was Tony's soul mate--a once over then turned his full attention on Tony. “You’re looking a little stressed, anything I can do?”

Tony took the hint.

Tony wrapped his hand around the new guy’s elbow. He kept his touch light and breakable in case he’d misread the cue.

“Just some guy claiming to be my soul mate, babe.”

The new guy’s eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise. He chuckled and gave the first guy a smirk. “Strange. Last time I checked we were soul mates.”

Siren’s Treasure: @akira-of-the-twilight

Prompt: I really love the idea of playboy!Bucky flirt of the seven seas first-mate to Captain Rogers, falling completely overboard in love with our Blacksmith-Inventor Inexperienced!Tony who goes from confident captive to shy woe-begone man in the presence of Bucky's fierce affections. Virgin!Tony wonders what a siren like Bucky could possibly want with him. Bucky wants to know what the fuck Logan thinks he's doing flirting with the man who stole his heart like sunken treasures. Happy ending please?

“Sirens killed your crew?” Steve repeated.

The dark haired man nodded. Just an hour ago the Avenger crew had found the man clinging to driftwood in the middle of the ocean. Now he clutched the flask of rum Bucky had given him like it was all that kept him buoyant during these tumultuous times.

The man—Tony—had already downed more than half the flask and was still sober. “Not exactly my crew, but close enough. Yeah.” Tony uncapped the flask and threw back a mouthful.

Steve frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Tony shrugged. “I wasn’t captain of the ship.”

“So what were you?” Steve pressed.

Road hazards: @riotwritesthings

Steve and Bucky's BFF road trip is not going well. For starters, Steve couldn't even make it, and for some bizarre reason asked Tony to take his place. The fact that it’s only a couple days before someone is trying to kill them isn’t nearly as stressful as the fact that Bucky and Tony have never really had an actual conversation.

It’s hard to avoid someone when stuck in a car with them though, and if they manage to stay alive they just might learn a thing or two.

Once Upon a Wintertime: @iam93percentstardust (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

Look, Bucky knows that he’s fulfilling every cliché in the book right now. He knows that, as a bodyguard, he’s not supposed to fall in love with his client. But Tony’s good and sweet and so, so lonely and how could Bucky not? He thinks he’s got a shot after Tony breaks up with his boyfriend but on a trip across the country, he finds out that Tony needs a bondmate or the board will steal SI—and Ty’s already said yes.

little bird: @thxngam

Bucky laughs, and it’s loud and unbidden, a way he hadn’t laughed for years before, tugging his giggling omega into his lap. Tony quiets and nestles into Bucky’s chest like he was made to belong there, and Bucky has noticed several times that Tony is much smaller than he is, but he never quite noticed how Tony always seemed to curl into him as a reason for his size.

Tony nestles like a little bird.

Teenage Dream: @anthonyed

Tony Stark develops a crush on the school's bad boy who is too cool to hang out with anyone. At least, it's what Tony thinks. He never considered that James Barnes is probably as lonely as he is.

(in the process of editing)

The Best Laid Plans (of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

A Kitten and a Soldier: @/ThatDamnKennedyKid

Bucky hadn't heard from Rumlow in years - since the whole Winter Soldier fiasco in Siberia. They've been discharged for nearly six years, but when he gets a message that only says "I need your help" , he grabs his jacket and keys.

The Prince’s Bride: @hddnone

After Tony loses the love of his life to pirates on the high sea, not much matters to him. He agrees to wed Prince Justin Hammer to gain access to vibranium and shut himself away in his workshop until the end of time, but a group of ruffians kidnap Tony to take him to Hydra.

Tony's rescue takes on an unlikely form - the Dread Pirate Rogers, who killed the love of his life five years ago.

A Princess Bride AU

A Kind of Destiny: @weethreequarter

A chance meeting at a wedding brings together an American war veteran and the Prince of Wales. Little do they know, the wheels have been set in motion for a relationship which will change not only their lives, but the monarchy itself. Bucky and Tony strike up a friendship at Steve and Peggy’s wedding, a friendship that soon develops into more. But it’s not so simple: Tony is the Prince of Wales, and heir to the throne of Great Britain and the United Kingdom. Any relationship is played out in the press and public eye, and then there's that pesky issue of succession to consider too. But Bucky is no coward, and when he finds something he wants, he’s prepared to fight for it. And fight he will, at Tony's side, for their very own fairy tale ending.

#adi's rec list #buckytony #winteriron #bucky barnes/tony stark #bucky barnes x tony stark #bucky/tony #bucky x tony #i should create a tag for fic rec lists #this got sort of long so ive hidden some of them under a read more #that doesn't mean they're any less good though!!

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