#the wiener soldier

[marvelilovebucky]

He’s the wiener soldier🌭

[woobiz]

just gonna leave this here for you guys…

[buckys-wintersoldier]

I only want you | Bucky Barnes

Pairing -> BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x BestFriend!Female!Reader

Summary -> During the party he confesses his feelings for you, he kisses you but the next day he isn’t the same anymore. Your best friend is the biggest idiot you have ever seen and you don’t know why.

Warnings -> Bucky being an idiot, mention of Bucky’s past/trauma, Sharon being a bitch, hurt/comfort, angst, crying, kind of insults, fluff

Wordcount -> 7.1k (it’s long but it’s worth it, I guess)

A/N: I want to thank @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for listening when I came up with that idea as well as supporting me to find the way through all the ideas, and thank you so much for proofreading it, I really appreciate it. I’m sorry when I hurt someone, trust me I cried a lot while I wrote that oneshot but I just needed to write something to calm down my feelings and yeah here we are. I hope you all enjoy it.

Divider made by @firefly-graphics.

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky isn’t really a drinker, especially not since he became the Winter Soldier. He enjoys the taste, but the serum that is constantly running through his veins makes it impossible for him to experience the effects of the alcohol. It isn’t rare that he wishes to get drunk so he can forget all the memories of the things she did during the time with Hydra. It’s like Thor knew exactly about his thoughts because he is waving a flask of Asgardian Ale in front of Bucky, and the brown-haired man decides it is the perfect opportunity to drink his troubles away.

“Buck, you shouldn’t drink too much of that Asgardian Ale,” you mumble while you sit next to your best friend and look at him. You know about his trouble and about his traumatic past, but you also know it’s never an opportunity to drink it away. He has the glass completely full again and smiles at you.

“It’s oke; I can’t get too drunk. I’m the Wiener Soldier,” he says and bursts out laughing. Then he lifts his glass and turns around. "Cheers!" he shouts through the room, even when it’s almost impossible that someone hears it.

The music is way too loud to hear your own words without shouting. So it isn’t surprising when the people in the room don’t hear what Bucky shouts. Except for the two next to him, you and Steve.

“Cheers, pal!" Steve shouts and lifts his glass as well. He smiles at Bucky before he pours the liquid down his throat. You shake your head and turn around. Your back leans against the counter, and you place your forearms on top of the counter, looking at the people dancing in the middle of the room.

“Haven’t felt like that since the 40’s,” Bucky groans, filling his glass again. Then he turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. “I feel like I’m 20 again; it feels better than I thought. Do you always feel like that?” he asks and places his hand on your shoulder, standing up slowly to stand in front of you.

Then he winks at you while he almost falls to the side. You almost burst out laughing when he tries to grab something to not fall.

“Woah, the room is spinning. I didn’t know Tony was able to build something like that,” your best friend says while holding your shoulders so he won’t fall down.

You look at him and grip his arms to lead him to the seat next to you again, but he doesn’t want to move. You giggle when he leans closer, and the stubble from his beard tickles you. Bucky kisses your cheek softly.

“My lady, wanna dance with me?” he asks and looks at you with the most adorable puppy look.

His blue eyes are almost begging you to dance with him, and even when you would prefer to bring him into his room and make sure he goes to sleep, you can’t say no.

With a nod, you stand up as well, and he wraps his arms immediately around your waist. He doesn’t walk far away from the counter, just a few steps, so the two of you can dance without crashing against something. Bucky spins you around while he holds you still, pressed against him.

You wonder how it must feel for him when the room is already spinning, but the way he smiles and looks at you makes your mind dizzy, and you can’t think of anything other than him. You lay your head against his shoulder, and the heat of his body warms you. His hands are around your waist, making you almost melt in his embrace, and you could stay like that for the rest of the evening.

After a few minutes and Bucky almost lying on the ground and sleeping, you push him to the seats. Making sure he doesn’t miss the chair, when he sits, he immediately looks for his glass.

“Where is it? I’m thirsty," he says, looking at you with a slightly sad gaze.

You feel a bit sorry for him, but you reach for another glass, this time with water. Bucky looks at it skeptically, but then he pours it down his throat. Shaking his head like it’s something awful he doesn’t like. You chuckle, and it makes him look at you.

“Have you ever tried that? That’s awful,” he tells you and offers you the glass even when it’s empty.

“It’s not that bad,” you reply, and you take the glass to place it on the counter next to you.

“We should bring you into your room, you should sleep a bit,” you say, taking his hands into yours.

Before you can pull him up, and with you out of the room, he pulls you closer, and his lips are just a few inches away from yours. He is so close that you can feel his breath against your lips; it's warm and smells strongly of the ale he has consumed. You need to close your eyes for a moment. The man in front of you is making you go crazy.

“I don’t want to go to bed, not yet. I want to kiss you first, can I?” he asks you, and you immediately feel like he is Bucky from the 40’s again. And even when you don’t agree to drink his troubles away, you’re happy that he doesn’t have to suffer with his past right now. And let’s be honest, the 40’s Bucky is a gentleman, and you always wanted to know him; now you have the chance, at least for tonight.

“Doll?” Bucky asks, and you feel a shiver along your spine because of his soft voice.

You look into his eyes and smile softly.

“Of course,” you answer, not sure anymore about the question he asked.

He leans closer and kisses you softly. Bucky’s pink, plumb lips are so soft on yours, you never imagined them being that soft. You slide your hands through his hair, playing with his light curls. His lips move slowly against yours, while he lets you feel everything you tried to avoid when you’re around him. The feeling in your stomach whenever he touches you, the way he looks at you, or talks to you. You adore the way he tells you ‘Doll’ and you enjoy every moment you can spend with your best friend.

And that’s the point where you thought he would never feel the same for you. He is your best friend, and he was always a gentleman, so you were sure he was just nice. And now he is kissing you, with his hands at your waist, holding you close. Bucky is drunk, so you aren’t sure if it’s just a situation of his drunken state, but they always say: drunk people tell the truth, so he would feel the same for you as you feel for him.

When the two of you move a few inches away from each other, you still look into his eyes. His gaze looks a bit foggy, but you can also see the storm in his blue eyes.

“I love you; you’re the most adorable girl I know. You don’t know what you do to me whenever you look at me or just touch me softly. My feelings go crazy, and whenever another man walks close to you, I want to push them away and tell them you’re mine. I can’t sleep because I think of you; when you’re in a room with me, I can’t concentrate on something else, just on you,” Bucky says, and he smiles softly, his cheeks turning slightly red. “I have loved you for so long, but I thought you would never love me the same way. I was the Winter Soldier, and I don’t think I deserve someone brave, strong, wonderful, and perfect like you,” he adds, leaning his forehead against yours, wanting you to be as close as possible and feel your warmth.

You smile and press your lips against his again. The tingling feeling in your stomach grows again, and when he stands up, he towers over you, placing his hands around your cheeks, and he pulls you closer.

“I love you so much, my doll,” he whispers and slowly lets go of you, his hands gripping your waist again.

“I love you too, Buck. And you deserve everything good; it wasn’t you when you were the Winter Soldier. You’re a gentleman and the most precious one; I love the way you care about everyone you love,” you tell him, and he blushes.

Bucky lifts one of his hands and presses two of his fingers onto your lips, trying to make you shut up before you can compliment him more.

“You need more than two fingers to make me shut up,” you giggle, and his smile grows before he leans down and presses his lips on yours. He makes you speechless with the way his soft and warm lips move against yours.

“You two are almost disgusting,” Steve mumbles next to you, making you chuckle.

When you and Bucky break the kiss, you look at Steve. He still looks at you and blushes when he recognizes that you caught him looking at you and Bucky.

“You think it’s almost disgusting, but you can’t stop looking at us, huh?” you ask, and he immediately turns his head away while his cheeks get deeply red.

When you turn your head back to look at Bucky, you feel a burning look in your back. Without looking around, you already know the person who is staring at you with the same angry gaze; she always looks at you. Bucky recognizes your thoughtful look and looks up to see the person behind you. His hand clenches around your waist, and you hiss softly.

“Sorry, doll,” he mumbles, immediately losing his grip around your waist.

“Tony is staring at mine,” he growls, and you look around. You see Tony standing on the other side of the room and looking in your direction. He looks annoyed, and when you look a few inches further to the side, you see the person who is burning a hole in your back. Bucky thinks it’s Tony who is looking at you, but you know he is just listening to the person next to him. She is the one who hates you for being Bucky’s best friend, and now she will hate you more because Bucky kissed you. Sharon has had a crush on Bucky since you met her the first time, and he sometimes looks flirty around her, but he is always like that around friends. Otherwise, he would date Tony, Thor, or Steve as well.

The next morning, you wake up to the sun slowly brightening your room. You open your eyes and smile when the flashbacks of the last night come back into your mind. You and Bucky shared a lot more kisses, soft touches, and dances during the night.

You sit up slowly, stretching your limbs, and look at the clock. It’s just a bit after ten in the morning. After a few more minutes where you just look out of the window and enjoy the sun and the comfortable silence in your room, you stand up and walk through your bathroom.

With a few movements, you get out of your clothes and walk into the shower. The hot water runs along your body, and you feel your muscles relaxing under the warmth. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment just for you. In front of your eyes, you see Bucky kissing you the way he did last night. Your fingers are brushing softly over your lips, and for a moment, you feel like he is kissing you again. His hands are around your waist, and his body is pressing against yours.

But when you open your eyes, you just hear the sound of the water and your towel in front of you. No Bucky, right now. Just the thoughts making you smile again and the feeling in your stomach are the most wonderful you have ever felt until now. You are already excited to see him in a few minutes, but first you need to finish your shower and choose some comfortable clothes to wear.

With the biggest smile on your lips, you walk through the floor and into the shared kitchen.

“Someone looks really happy today,” Tony says, and you blush immediately.

Your eyes scan the room, so you can find Bucky and go to him. Talk to him about the last night and make sure you meant what you said. When you walk a few steps further into your room, you see Steve lying on the couch, holding his hand and groaning.

“I don’t know what happened last night. Tony, how can you manage to never have a headache?” he asks, and Tony laughs before he places his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

"Painkillers are really useful. It doesn't help to remember, but they help against the other effects after being drunk,” he says, and Steve nods. He doesn’t want to get up, so he just closes his eyes and tries to sleep a while longer.

You look around and see Bucky in front of the counter. Sharon stands next to him, and her hand rubs his back up and down. You roll your eyes, disgusted about the other girl, as you walk to them.

“Hey, Buck,” you say with a smile, and when the brown-haired man turns around, he smiles softly.

But in another way, as usual, he looks a bit sad, and instead of looking at you, he looks to the side.

“Hey,” he mumbles and takes his bowl with cereal.

Then he walks to the table, and Sharon follows him. You look at them both; maybe he has a hangover? You try to push the negative thoughts away and make yourself a bowl with your favorite cereals. You walk around the table and sit down in front of Bucky; he doesn’t look at you, and he doesn’t talk to you. He was just focused on his cereals and probably deep in his own thoughts.

“Buck?” You ask carefully, and he hums but still doesn’t look up from his bowl. “Can we talk? I mean just you and me?”

He nods in response and finishes his breakfast, then finally looks up to see you. But something is still different when he just loves to look into your eyes and adore the colors, but this time he looks at you like you’re someone else.

He waits until you finish your breakfast as well, and then he follows you through your room. Your best friend closes the door behind himself and looks at you.

“What’s up?” He asks with a cold voice, and you shiver immediately.

“Do you remember last night?” you ask, playing with your hands. You don’t want to look at him; you’re scared about the way he looks at you.

“No, but Sharon told me about it,” he tells you, and you nod softly.

For a moment, the two of you are quiet. You don’t know what to say, but the silence is uncomfortable as well. You shift from one foot to the other, your hands sweating, and you feel like you need to throw up.

“Why are you so cold?” you then ask and look at Bucky.

He clenches his jaw with his eyes staring at you, and the way he looks at you makes you even more uncomfortable. He never looked at you like that; the coldness almost showed hate in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel the tears burning in your eyes. He notices the tears in your eyes, and a sarcastic grin forms on his lips.

“Why are you crying now?” Bucky asks you loudly; you hiss and feel so small in front of him.

“You- Buck, yo-” You start to say something, but he interrupts you.

“Don’t call me ‘Buck’ or ‘Bucky’. You have no right to say that. You don’t deserve to say that,” he shouts, and your eyes widen.

“What do you want me to call you then?” you ask, trying to wipe the tears in your eyes away.

“Use my name. I have it for a reason,” he says, and you nod, not able to say anything.

You don’t know what happened to him. Last night he confessed his love to you, and now he acts like he hates you and has never even thought about loving you.

“Want to talk now or not? I have better things to do,” he says, rolling his eyes annoyed.

You feel a tear slowly falling down your cheek, not knowing the man in front of you anymore. He isn’t like your best friend; he isn’t like the one you fall in love with; he isn’t the one who kissed you yesterday; and he isn’t the Bucky, you know.

You shake your head. You want to talk; you really want to, but you can’t. At least not with the man in front of you. Was it all a lie? Was it all just fake? Or what happened that he is the way he is right now.

“Good,” he says, and he turns around to leave the room.

The moment he closes the door behind himself, you break down on the floor. You fall on your knees, the tears streaming down your cheeks, and you’re sobbing loudly. There is no feeling inside of you right now; you feel empty. You stare at the wall in front of you, his face in your mind, his smell, and the way he kissed you last night. You hear his words, like he is standing next to you and saying them to you. The ones of the night when he confesses his love to you and the ones he said a few minutes ago when he was looking at you with his cold, blue eyes.

“I love you; you’re the most adorable girl I know.”

“Don’t call me ‘Buck’ or ‘Bucky’.”

“I can’t sleep because I think of you; when you’re in a room with me, I can’t concentrate on something else, just on you.”

“Want to talk now or not? I have better things to do.”

It takes a while until you slowly calm down. You're curled on the floor, and the tears are still streaming down your cheeks. But your sobbing is quieter, and you slowly fall asleep on the floor. All the tears and the crying make you so sleepy that you don’t recognize Steve walking into your room and lifting you up to place you in your bed.

He sits next to you, his fingers stroking your hair softly out of your face, and he looks at you with a soft but sad smile. He saw Bucky walking out of the room, his gaze as cold as the whole morning, and even when he doesn’t know what happened at the party, he doesn’t want to leave you alone. But he also doesn’t want to interrupt you while you’re crying because he knows you would have to hide it, and he knows you need to let the feelings out of your body.

You don’t sleep well; nightmares interrupt your sleep every time, but you’re too tired to stay awake for a while. In every dream is Bucky; first he helps you, but in the next moment he shouts at you, laughs at you, and does everything you never thought he would do to you. You’re sweating and whimpering in your sleep, turning from one side to the other.

Steve tries to comfort you with his hand on your thigh, but it doesn’t work. With widened eyes, you wake up, starting to cry again for a few minutes before you fall asleep again. You don’t mind if someone sees you crying or not; you can’t escape Bucky, his coldness, not even in your dreams, and it robs you of all of the strength you have.

“Y/N?” Steve asks when you’re awake, but you turn around so you don’t have to face him.

You mumble a soft ‘mhm’. Steve sighs, his fingers drawing small circles on your thigh.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks, but you shake your head.

You just want to be alone right now. Steve nods and stands up, walking through the door, but before he leaves the room, he turns to you.

“If you need me, you can call me or just come to my room,” he offers.

“Thank you,” you whimper, and the tears are streaming down your face again.

You can’t stop thinking about Bucky; he is burned in your mind like something you need to be. Something you need to be happy, and yes, he is someone you need to be happy. Without him, it doesn’t feel the same; watching your favorite movie wouldn’t be as fun because there is someone missing who holds you when you cry out of joy because they are married. Playing board games wouldn’t be the same because the one freaking out because he doesn’t get what he wants isn't playing the board games with you. Eating your favorite snacks and ice cream wouldn’t be the same because the one man who always laughs about your snack and ice cream decisions wouldn’t laugh. The one cuddling up wouldn’t let you cuddle with him, and you would miss HIS warmth and HIS scent. It’s not just a man; it’s the ONE man; it’s Bucky.

Wrapped in your blanket, you sit against the headboard of your bed. Looking through the channels for something that could distract you. But you feel like Bucky is manipulating the television because every channel shows a movie you used to watch with Bucky.

Everything reminds you of him: every place, every movement. Every second reminds you of Bucky, the memories you both have, and the moments you shared. And now he treats you like you’re the worst thing he has ever seen, and there is no reason why he does it, right?

You don’t want to sit in your room, but you don’t want to see Bucky somewhere as well. But you feel hungry after some time, and even when you wish you didn’t have to stand up to get some food, you don’t want to make yourself feel worse just because of Bucky.

So you slowly get up; it’s already afternoon when you walk through your room. Before you reach the door, you see the pictures on your wall. He and you took so many pictures during trips or parties, some when he was joking and others when he tried to look mad. Even when he really looks like a pouting puppy, when he tries to look mad at you, you always laugh about his pouting face.

You open your door and immediately hear the voices of the others. But there are not a lot of them; just three of them are there and talk. Steve, Bucky, and Sharon. With quiet footsteps, you walk closer to the room. You look at the floor, hoping that no one will see you.

But when your feet meet the ground in the room, the gazes of the three of them are immediately on you. Steve smiles sadly when he sees you. You probably look like a wrack, with red eyes and tears all over your face, but you don’t mind. Sharon looks at you with a smile, and Bucky is as cold as before.

When you make your way to the counter, you hear Sharon flirting with Bucky, and you feel like you want to throw up. You hate her, especially since she is a jealous bitch when you’re with Bucky. And now he has him for himself - exactly the plan she had.

“Buck, look at me,” she says, and you look around to see what they do. That’s the moment you wish you wouldn’t be in the room right now. Sharon leans closer, and her lips meet Bucky’s softly. His arms are wrapped around her waist, and you see yourself in her. The moment you had last night, and now he kisses her, not the one he confessed his love to last night.

The tears forming in your eyes - they're burning. They slowly stream down your cheeks, but you don't make a noise; you just look at them until they break the kiss, and Sharon looks at you with a wide bitch smile again.

“You’re right!" you shout, and Bucky turns around to look at you as well.

With a confused gaze, the two men look at you, and you chuckle sarcastically.

“You don’t deserve me. You’re an idiot, and I would prefer to be killed by the Winter Soldier instead of being your best friend,” you shout, and you see the change in his gaze.

You don’t mean it, not really, but the anger inside of you lets you say things like that.

You see, you hurt him by saying that he has nightmares because of the Winter Soldier; he blames himself for that, and you were the one who was able to give him moments where he didn’t blame himself, but now that you mention the Winter Soldier in a way, you hurt him the most you can. And you’re sorry for that, but you hate him so much right now that you can’t stop yourself from telling him things like that.

“I feel like he would love more than you ever can,” you say, and you walk a few steps closer to him. “I hate you, in a way I never thought it would be possible,” you hiss and turn away to grab some food from the counter before you leave the room.

Bucky looks at you, and the moment those words leave your mouth, his small world breaks a bit more. The only person who loved him so much hates him now. But he deserves it, doesn’t he? And he can’t bring himself to walk to you and ask what he did because he is way too mad at you for a reason he doesn’t want to admit in front of you.

It's been a week now since you saw Sharon and Bucky kissing each other. The day he started to be an ass and the day you told him he didn’t deserve you. And you didn’t change your mind; he hasn't been nice to you since that day; he ignores you; he doesn’t even look at you. His arms are always around Sharon’s body, and his lips are on hers.

You don’t really care about yourself anymore; you’re mostly in your room, crying or just laying there and waiting until you finally fall asleep. Steve tries every day to get you out of bed and wants to plan your favorite trips, but every one of them reminds you of Bucky, and you prefer your warm and comforting bed.

Someone knocks at your door, and you hum in response before Steve opens the door.

“Want to eat something? I cooked, and you need to eat,” he says, but you shake your head and turn around so you don’t have to face him.

Steve sighs softly and walks closer to you. He sits next to you on your bed and runs his fingers along your side.

“Do you want to tell me what happened between you and Buck? He looks different as well since the party,” Steve says thoughtfully, and you slowly turn around to look at him.

Your eyes are red, and he can see the tears all over your cheeks. Steve lifts his hand and wipes the tears away, smiling softly at you. You slowly sit up, your back against the headboard of your bed, and you pull your knees against your chest, wrapping your arms around them and placing your head on your knees.

“I thought-“ you sob quietly. “He said he loved me, and then he suddenly was with Sharon,” you mumble, and you can’t stop the tears again.

“He told you he loved you? When? I mean, I know it, but when did he tell you?” Steve asks, and your eyes widen for a moment.

He knows that Bucky loves you? What happened to Bucky being the way he is when he really loves you? Why is he kissing Sharon when he could have you? He could have the one he really loves.

“At the party, he told me he loved me. He kissed me,” you mumble, and Steve’s jaw drops.

“He finally managed it?” he asks, and you nod.

“And the next day he was the idiot he is, kissing Sharon, and it looks like they are happy together,” you tell him, and he shakes his head.

“I need to talk to him,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You look at him while he leaves your room. He almost runs out of it, and you don’t know why, but you don’t mind. Steve wants to talk to Bucky, but it won’t change his feelings for Sharon. And maybe Bucky thought it was her when the two of you kissed. Maybe he thought it was her when he confessed his feelings.

Meanwhile, Steve rushes into Bucky’s room. He sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the television. He doesn’t want to see Sharon today; he misses you, even when it’s just looking at you or hearing you talk. But since you’re in your room and only outside when you’re sure no one else is outside, he hasn’t heard or seen you in days.

“Buck?” Steve asks softly, and Bucky turns his head to look at the brown-haired man. He looks more broken than ever before. Steve walks closer to Bucky and lets himself fall next to his best friend in bed. “Where is Sharon?” he asks, and Bucky shrugs.

“Don’t care,” he says, and he stares in front of him again.

“Pal, what happened that you’re the way you are with y/n?” Steve looks at Bucky and sees the small tear escaping the corner of his eye.

"Nothing; she doesn’t want me,” he answers, and Steve chuckles softly. Stubborn idiot, but still his best friend and the idiot in love with you.

“She told me you confessed your love for her. And the two of you kissed. When she told me, I remembered, and it was her; it wasn’t Sharon, pal,” Steve continues, and Bucky’s eyes widen before he looks at his best friend again.

“We did what? And Sharon, what?” he asks.

“You kissed. You and y/n. But Sharon was just standing next to Tony on the other side of the room and was staring at the two of you,” he repeats, telling Bucky what he remembers. Bucky shakes his head, thinking about the version of the party and then the version he heard.

That’s definitely not what he heard about the evening. That’s not even similar to the things someone told him about.

“No, that’s not true,” Bucky says thoughtfully. “But even when, don't you know anymore what she said? She hates me, Steve." Bucky mumbles, and he feels even worse when he thinks about you, the way he treats you, and the things you said to him. Even when he understands it now, he understands why you said those things.

“I need to talk to her,” Bucky mumbles, but then he shakes his head. “Do you think she would listen?” he asks and looks at Steve, who nods.

“She is in love with you. Even when you’re such an idiot,” Steve tells him, pushing his best friend up. “Talk to her, pal,” he says, and Bucky smiles softly before he walks through the door.

He isn’t sure what to say when he talks to you. Maybe you don’t want to listen; maybe you won’t understand. Or do you really hate him now? Do you want to see him? So many thoughts run through his mind while he walks along the floor, unsure what to do or say when you ignore him or if he messed up after all the things with Sharon.

Bucky reaches your door and knocks softly. He hears your softy ‘come in’ and he opens the door. Now it’s too late to turn around; he has to talk to you now. You look at him, and your gaze gets. immediately cold.

“James,” you say, and he shivers slightly.

He didn’t know something inside of him could break more, but when you called him ‘James’ with that cold voice, something inside of him broke more.

“Doll,” he mumbles, closing the door behind him.

“Don’t call me that; call your new fucktoy that,” you hiss, and he looks at the floor.

You’re mad; he has never seen you like that before, but he can’t blame you. You’re hurt, and he is the reason for that. He hurts you so badly, but he loves you so much more than he can ever tell you. He can’t and doesn't want to be without you when there is just a percent chance for him to be yours. He would do everything to be yours.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He hates when you’re so harsh and cold, but he understands it.

“What do you want here?” you ask, and he plays with his hands before he answers.

“I want to talk to you,” Bucky says quietly, and you chuckle sarcastically.

“I don’t want to talk to you, James,” you say, and you see him wiping some tears away.

“Please,” he begs, but you shake your head. “Can you please listen to me? Please?” he tries again, and he doesn’t want to go without telling you everything he feels, everything about the way he acted, especially why he acted like that. “Doll, please listen to me. Just this time, if you want me to go, then I will, and I will never talk to you again if you don’t want me to,” he says and sobs quietly.

You haven’t seen Bucky crying; sometimes he looked like he was about to cry, but he never cried. And now he stands in front of you, begging and crying for you to listen to him. And you want to listen, but the anger inside of you gets in control of you.

“You could have talked to me earlier. I fucking- I don’t care anymore,” you shout, and he flinches.

The strong super soldier looks like a small boy.

“Please, I love-“

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear all those lies anymore. Just shut up and go with those lies to your new girl,” you say, anger in your voice, and Bucky can’t stop the tears streaming down your cheeks.

He hurt you more than he thought he did. But he was so mad at you; he was mad about the things he heard. And now he is about to lose the most important person in his life. He loves you more than everything; he never loved someone as much as he loves you.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I really am. I love you,” he whispers, and you shake your head sarcastically, laughing.

“I saw that. You treated me like the worst person you know; that’s love for you?" you ask, and he immediately shakes his head.

“No, but I didn’t know about the things that happened during the party,” he says, and he walks a step closer, slowly, to make sure you’re oke with it.

You want to throw him out of your room, but you also want to know what happened and why he was the way he was. He wouldn’t beg and cry when it wasn't important to him. So you accept when he takes a seat at the edge of your bed and looks at you. His eyes are red, and you can see the traces of his tears on his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, still blaming himself for doing all this to you. Bucky wants to touch you; he wants to hug you; and he wishes you would tell him it’s oke. But he knows he needs to explain his behavior before he can get some of that; when you’re ready to do it, then.

“What happened that night?”

He is interested in knowing what happened, and you clear your throat before you think about it again. When he turned into an idiot, you tried to avoid all his touches, his words, and his kisses so you didn’t need to cry all the time. And now he wants to know the truth, and you want to tell him, but you don’t want to cry because of that.

“Thor had some Asgardian alcohol there, and it made you drunk. We danced a bit; you told me you loved me; you kissed me,” you tell him, and he nods.

“You didn’t flirt with someone else?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“No, why should I? I love you, and I was happy you felt the same, but then you acted completely different the next day,” you mumble and look at him.

Bucky is playing with his fingers; you see the way he suffers because of his metal arm, and you remember the things you said about the Winter Soldier, and he probably hates his metal arm even more now.

“Why did you do it the way you did, and why are you suddenly so nice again?” you ask, and his jaw clenches slightly. Not in an angry way, but more in a thoughtful clenching.

“The morning after the party, I had a bad hangover and didn’t remember much of that night. I know that I kissed someone, but I don’t know the person. Sharon came into the room, and she asked me how the party was, and I told her I didn't know because I had too much alcohol. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and when I asked her why she said I kissed her that night,” he tells you, and you nod, blaming yourself for being the same way to Bucky as he was to you, even though it’s not his fault.

“I told her I don’t love her because I love you. And she told me about your night with a guy I don’t know. Sharon said you were flirting with me, but you have someone else, and you were flirting with me so you can make jokes with your boy about me being so dumb and really think you could love me the way I love you,” he continues, and your jaw drops slightly.

“Bu- James, there is no one else. I love you, and when you changed into the idiot you were, I hated the thought of you touching Sharon and the way you kissed her. But when you love me, why did you kiss her?” you ask, and Bucky runs his fingers through his hair.

“I wanted a distraction,” he whispers quietly, ashamed of that.

For a moment, you both sit in silence, looking at each other. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"When you said those things about the Winter Soldier?” He asks, and you see his hands shaking softly. His anxiety gets worse when he thinks about your answer; maybe you could really mean it? Maybe you really think the Winter Soldier could love more than Bucky can?

“No, I was mad. I’m sorry, Buck,” you say, and he nods. You smile softly when he doesn’t tell you to stop calling him ‘Buck’. “I’m really sorry, but I didn’t see how much I would hurt you with that,” you add.

“I think I deserve it,” he replies, and you want to agree, but you also know it would make him feel worse.

He was an idiot, but now that he sits there, he begs and cries that you listen to him so he can excuse his behavior. He blames himself for so much; you don’t want him to blame himself for more.

“Buck?” you ask, and he hums in response. “Tell me the truth, please.”

You look into his eyes; the blue is as warm as the one you’re used to seeing when he is with you.

“I love you, doll. I never wanted to hurt you; I want to be yours. I want you to be mine,” he says, blushing slightly. You don’t know what to say. You want to tell him you feel the same, but at the same time, you’re scared he will go to Sharon when you’re not enough for him anymore. “I’m sorry, you had to listen. But thank you for listening,” he tells you and stands up to leave the room.

You reach for his metal arm, and he flinches when you touch it.

“Sorry,” you say, slightly shocked, and let go of his arm. Bucky turns around and smiles softly.

“Just didn’t think you would touch it.” His voice is so soft, exactly the way you love when he talks to you.

“Can you stay?” you ask and look down; maybe he would prefer to go to Sharon because you were really mean?

Bucky’s smile grows, and he lets himself fall down next to you and wraps his arms around your body, pulling you into his lap. His hands slide your back up and down, and he looks into your eyes like they are the most adorable things he has ever seen. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, and you play with his soft hair.

He leans closer, his lips almost touching yours, when you stop him.

“Did you brush your teeth and clean your face after she kissed you?” you ask with a raised eyebrow, and Bucky can’t stop himself and bursts out laughing.

“Yes,” he whispers, and he places one of his hands on your neck to pull you closer. His lips touch yours softly, and you almost melt in his embrace. Bucky moves his lips against yours, and a small smile appears on his lips.

“I love you, James,” you mumble against his lips, and he rolls his eyes.

“Can you be serious for a moment, doll?” he asks, laughing, and you look like you need to think about it before you answer him.

“I don’t know what you mean, James,” you giggle.

“But I love you too, doll,” he chuckles, pressing his lips on yours again to make you shut up and feel you as close as possible in that moment. He feels complete and comfortable now, being with his girl, the one he loves more than everyone, the one who loved him even when he was the Winter Soldier.

Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @km-ffluv | @kandis-mom | @lives-in-midgard | @bucky-barnes-lover | @felicitylemon | @sweater-bee | @identity2212 | @cjand10 | @bookishtheaterlover7 | @harleycao | @buckyalpine (I tag you here because I can’t find the post where you asked for angst oneshots)

[bubble-tea-blossom]

The Soldier and the Smuggler

5. The Gate

Joel Miller / f!reader, 6.5 k, 18+ only

Warnings: talk of attempted SA, violence specifically to a man's wiener he deserves it tho

Previous chapter

You’re stood outside the door to your apartment. Your hands are shaking too much for you to put the key in the lock. You don’t know how long you stand there, key in hand, staring at the metal 210 above the knocker.

You give up and knock three times. It takes a few minutes for the door to open, a confused call of your name behind the door from your aunt who’s not really your aunt.

She opens the door, slippers on her feet, voice groggy, “What’re you doing?”

You have to swallow your dry throat to be able to speak, “Hey May, sorry to wake you, the key kept getting stuck.”

You walk into the apartment, slipping your jacket off your shoulders. You hear May shut the door behind you and lock it again, pulling the deadbolt.

“The hell you doing out this time of night?” She asks.

You’ve practiced your lie on the way home, too bad your voice shakes anyways, “Got called out after you went to bed. But I get the next two days off.”

You drape your jacket across the kitchen chair as you pass, going for the water jug on the counter. You go to drink a glass and find your hands are still shaking enough to make the water tremble.

You hear on repeat in your head, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

You swear Aunt May is a psychic or something, she is uncomfortably talented at reading your mind. And you really don’t want to worry her. The truth will only worry her.

You also just don’t want to think about it. You don’t want to think about your wrists being pinned down. About the hand with a fistful of your hair slamming your head against the table. About-

Stop.

You’re fine. You tell yourself. Nothing actually happened. Those men are dead now.

A shiver wracks its way down your spine.

You see May approach you from the side like a trapped animal. You can’t bring yourself to look at her. If you look at her, she’ll know. And just the thought of it roils in your gut with shame.

She reaches your side, with a whisper of your name she places a gentle hand on your wrist. Right where you’re covered in bruises beginning to bloom in the shape of handprints.

This is where you breakdown. Immediately May wraps you in a fierce hug, making soothing sounds as you cry.

“I’m sorry,” you sob into her shoulder.

She just gently shushes you. Eventually she leads you to your bed that’s placed on the floor of what’s supposed to be the dining area. The apartment is only a one bedroom, but you wanted your only family left as close as possible. You took the floor, she had the bedroom. It was worth it.

“You need to let it out, hunny. It will help with the process.” She promises, stroking your hair with all the love of a mother.

You feel your heart wrench. Even now, you don’t want to disappoint her. If she finds out this was because of you trying to find her insulin, she’ll be crushed.

You have to start you sentence about five times before you’re able to actually speak.

“I heard from Sammy about this guy who had insulin,” you start. You keep your eyes on the floor but can feel Aunt May’s reaction besides you. Her body stiffening as she probably puts together what’s happened. She doesn’t say anything, just lets you continue.

“I set up a trade,” May brushes your hair behind your ear, revealing your bruised cheekbone, “It didn’t go well,” you finish, your voice barely audible even to you.

May takes a deep breath. “Did he assault you?” She asks with a clinical quality to her voice. Before her vision started going, May worked as an ER nurse for decades. You doubt this is the first conversation like this she’s had.

You shake your head slowly. “Someone stopped them before…” you slam your eyelids shut, trying to keep the images out of your head. You’re not strong enough, you can’t finish the sentence.

May’s silence somehow tells you she understands.

Eventually, after many minutes spent in silence with her gently stroking your hair, she speaks again, “Do you know who it was? That helped you?”

No. You shake your head. You remember Randy spitting out the name ‘Miller,’ but you don’t have the energy to tell her. It doesn’t matter anyways.

May’s arm around you squeezes you further into her embrace. You don’t want to think about tonight. Not now, not ever. It’s how you’ve survived each tragedy that comes and shakes your entire world, one loss after another.  

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

And yet…the stranger’s form will be burned into your mind forever. The shadow that came to your side, that killed for you without hesitation. Hands that held you gently if briefly. The voice in the dark comforting you with an awkward earnesty. Telling you were safe now.

Another shiver runs over your body. You couldn’t feel less safe.

It’s over. You tell yourself again. The way through, is never looking back.

You wish him well, whoever he is, but for your sake, you hope you never see him again.

… Five years later…

You run for your life in the dark. The only light is held in the hands of the smuggler running besides you, the halo of light shaking up and down as it illuminates the path a few feet ahead.

“Don’t you smugglers have multiple exits everywhere?” You shout over the cries of the infected giving chase a couple dozen feet behind. You can’t count on your fingers how many times you would chase someone through a building complex only for them to turn a corner and just vanish. It was as infuriating as it was impressive.

The smuggler doesn’t respond. From what you can see of his face, he looks the most worried you’ve seen yet. Eyes wide, mouth pulled in a tight line. That is not comforting. You’ve seen him stare down large, aggressive men with guns like he’s bored.

You know all too well the special type of terror infected will inflict on you. You have low expectations for your life expectancy, you just never wanted it to end with a fungus conquering your body and mind, turning you into a slave with the sole goal to spread the infection.

The smuggler screeches to a halt, shinning the light on two possible tunnels.

“Shit,” he breathes, shinning his light on the next two tunnels that diverge. “There’s supposed to be three, take the middle,” he pants, panic creeping into his voice. You feel your skin crawl listening to the infected draw closer and closer. You can’t stand here waiting for them like a deer in headlights.

You fist the back of his shirt, fabric damp with sweat, and push him forward.

“Leap of faith,” you pray, guiding him to the tunnel on the right. Your choice is purely a roll of the dice. You feel the smuggler give in, accepting your control for the moment.

You run, and run, so long that you feel exhaustion start to creep into your legs, into your lungs. You’re not sure how much longer you can run like this. Anytime it seems like you might have lost the pack, a few seconds later you can hear them again. They’re relentless, the fungus driving them harder than is possible for you or the smuggler to keep up with.

You almost pass it, the beam of salvation, mistaking it for a dead end at first. But then you stop and look again, at the ladder leading straight up to a manhole in the ceiling.

“Smuggler!” You yell, hearing the infected react to your echoing voice. You feel more than see the smuggler do a one-eighty turn behind you, before he’s brushing past you. He doesn’t even look at you, too busy launching himself up three rungs at a time.

“Right, ladies first or whatever,” you snipe, mostly to yourself while you watch him climb while you’re grounded like a baby bird. The rusted metal creaks under his weight in a way that makes you cringe.

At the top, the smuggler starts pushing against the manhole cover. You watch with despair as it remains shut. He pushes again, teeth bared in a snarl from effort, and you see a thin rim of light being exposed, the sound of something heavy grating above accompanies every little shift the smuggler manages. There must be something covering the hole on the outside.

It doesn’t matter, you’re out of time. The smuggler knows this too because he keeps pushing, his groan of effort is the loudest you’ve heard him be. You whip your head around when the screams of the infected sound like they’re literally on top of you. You can’t stay immobile and wait for death to come screaming for you.

You step onto the first rung and feel it almost immediately give way under your added weight. This only adds to the challenge of scaling a ladder with your hands tied, but adrenaline demands you keep moving, and so you hop up to the second rung and begin your climb there.

Unfortunately, you don’t have very far to go, stuck only halfway up with the smuggler still battling with the cover. You feel a little glimmer of hope when with a herculean effort he gets it halfway open. Good thing too because the infected are here, you don’t need to look down to know they’re swarming the bottom of the ladder. In fact, you feel a sharp tug on your boot, and with shot nerves, you leap up another rung to try and get away.

This move almost damns the both of you, when the added weight of the infected combined with your jolting proves to be too much for the rusted bolts keeping the ladder up on the wall. About half of them finally pop loose, and the whole ladder swings away from the wall, with only one side of it remaining bolted secure. The infected that was at your heel falls to the ground as the ladder sways, and the smuggler has to let the cover slam shut again in order to hang on.

This is when you look down, not on purpose, more on instinct.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you curse. The fungus covered bodies on the ground are just a swirling mass of teeth and limbs, a thing of nightmares. When one starts trying to climb back up to you, you feel the ladder shudder again. It won’t be much more than a few seconds before the whole thing comes off the wall and you fall right into the pit of infected.

With a well placed kick right to the infected’s forehead, you send it crashing back down, swallowed by the swirling mass of bodies.

You hear the smuggler continue to struggle with the cover above you. And then there’s almost a pop in the atmosphere as fresh air floods in and the little light the stars and moon give, grace you. You look up at see the smuggler already pulling himself up and out.

You don’t wait. The smuggler’s urges of “Move, move!” are redundant.

The ladder really doesn’t like all this movement. You’re almost at the top. The smuggler is right at the edge, a hand stuck down for you to grab.

You can feel the fresh air, but you can also feel the frantic thrashing of multiple infected climbing over top of each other right below your heel. You feel the ladder give one last shudder, and you know that is it’s last.

You brace your muscles and take a leap of faith. Still two rungs short from the top, the impact of your jump is the final straw for this camel, and the ladder pops enough bolts to start falling.

Your outstretched arms are grabbed by the smuggler, his grip like iron. Hard enough to hurt but you wouldn’t want anything less.

With his help, you start shimmying your belly up onto the edge of solid ground. And then you feel yourself being pulled back into the pit, so suddenly that the smuggler’s grip starts to slip.

You don’t have to look to know an infected is hanging off your foot, and no amount of kicking is getting rid of it. Then the fucker bites you. Hard enough that you feel the pressure of teeth through the tough leather of your military grade boot.

The smuggler starts pulling you up again, but with the added weight, the angle is all wrong.

“Fuckers got my foot,” you try to sound angry, but it comes out as more of a wheeze.

He reaches down and grabs a fistful of the belt snapped around your hips and tries pulling you up from there with a little more success.

It doesn’t matter, your brain whispers to you, you’re dead anyways.

Then I’m not dying down there, you answer yourself. With a bellow of absolute fury, you stomp so hard on the infected biting you, you hear a sickening crack, and after a heartbeat, the weight drops away.

The smuggler has a much easier time pulling you the rest of the way, one hand still on your belt, he drags you a few feet along the rough asphalt. Once you’re not at risk of falling back in, he releases you.

You hear him replace the manhole cover and the screams become blissfully muffled. You look over and see the shape of a giant piece of concrete with rebars sticking out of its side right next to the hole.

If that was what was covering the hole, and was what the smuggler shoved away, then you’d been underestimating him. Which as impressive as it is, does little to make you feel better. You can see the paths of escape narrow even more.

You let your eyes adjust to the different lighting; still dark but now you can actually see the buildings around and the street you’re sitting in the middle of. Next you start unlacing your boot. Even in the dark, you can see the teeth marks in the leather.

You need to know. With trembling hands, you rip the shoe off, and next your sock. The smuggler sees what’re you doing, and crouches down beside you, shinning his light on your foot.

You scan every inch, running your fingers over to try and feel any break in the skin. After a few heart pounding minutes, there’s nothing. You’ll need a new boot at some point, but that’s it.

Finally, you look at the smuggler who flicks his eyes to meet yours. His expression is carefully neutral, as if he didn’t care either way, but is glad you aren’t bit so he can still get his payment.

That pisses you off. His indifference, but mostly because you can see through the veil the indifference is holding up. Or at least, you think you can. There’s a real person behind the mask, and that only means it hurts worse.

You have to look away, feeling every emotion you’ve been stuffing down for the last two days bubble up your throat.

Fuck.

And you start to cry.

It’s less of crying and more of your emotions leaking through the cracks of your own mask. You put your face in your hands and try and get your shit together, your jaw clenched so hard you hear your teeth groan. The tears that run are slow and are wiped away before they can fall.

It takes longer than you will admit. You sit there, every muscle as tense as iron as you feel the panic try so desperately to tip your boat, and sweep you under the dark wave.

 During your silent breakdown, the smuggler just sits down with a groan a few feet away to catch his breath. And he waits.

He doesn’t grab you, or prod you with his gun, demanding that you get up. He just catches his breath and looks at the stars.

Eventually, the worst of the emotional storm passes, willed away. You look up from your hands. He passes you his water canteen, his face as impassive as ever. You take a few sips, watching him. Embarrassment knocks on your door, but your exhaustion won’t let it in. You’re mostly just, confused.

“You’re weird,” is all you can come up with, your voice hoarse. The smuggler just grunts.

You turn your gaze to the moon, just barely visible between the buildings. The same moon that you’ve been looking skyward at your whole life, graces your sight.

In your vulnerable state, you feel a memory creep up behind you like a monster in the dark.

This moment, you sitting in the dark, with the stranger sitting with you; at a respectable distance, silent as he waits for you to get your shit together. It brings up memories. Ones you’ve done your best to not think about.

“We should get going,” says the smugger as he stands, snapping you mercifully from the rabbit hole you were on the precipice of. “We’re too exposed.”

You answer by pulling your sock and boot back on, before pulling yourself off the ground. The smuggler directs you with a turn of his head. You follow.

The smuggler keeps you two along the shadows of the buildings, but so far, the streets are deserted. You know if you were to try another escape attempt, here in the maze of the dark city would be the place.

Then the smuggler clears his throat, turning his head slightly so he can look at you. And speaks in barely above a whisper.

“Thanks.”

When all you do is stare back with your eyebrows shot to the moon, you watch with mild amusement the inner turmoil he goes through as he forces himself to continue.

“For back there,” he clears his throat again, “that first Stalker would have taken me from behind,” he makes a vague gesture with one hand against his throat to get his point across.

You need a moment to absorb this. He just thanked you. You’re pretty sure kidnapping 101 is don’t do that.

You feel a jolt. Unless this is some kind of weird psychology mind game. Except for the way awkwardness burns off of the smuggler after his admission. He certainly doesn’t seem the psychological warfare type.

“How bout you thank me by taking these off?” You thrust your bound hands up at him, meeting his scowl.

You’d fully expected him to ignore you, like the times before. You honestly said it more as a joke to needle him with. He surprises you again by stopping, making you stop so you don’t run into him. He looks at you very hard while you stand there, wondering what’s going on.

He heaves a deep sigh that seems to come from his soul, and reaches a hand behind him. He pulls out your knife, and with your own knife, cuts your bonds.

You’re shocked to silence. Watching him with wide eyes, you feel the tug on the rope as he saws it with your knife like he was sawing through your own flesh.

And then with a final snap, the braid is broken, and the rope hangs loosely on your wrists. The smuggler plucks it off and shoves it in his backpack.

Your wrists throb from the sudden freedom, the skin raw as the air embraces it once again. Your heart wants to cry with joy, but these days you are suspicious of happiness.

The confusion and mistrust you feel is too strong for you to hide.

The smuggler must pick up on this, because he follows up the act of generosity with a warning, “Try anything and I’ll tie you up again, tighter.”

Well, at least this is familiar ground.

With further ado, he keeps walking, not even looking back to make sure you follow.

The words come out your mouth before you can think if it’s a good idea or not, “You say that to all the pretty girls?”

The smuggler scoffs but doesn’t answer.

---

The smuggler leads you in a somewhat zigzag pattern through the streets. He seems to be aiming for a specific entrance for the QZ rather than going right through the front gate because he occasionally back tracks when he brings you onto the wrong street.

With the night sky still lingering, he has to be practically under the street signs to read them, which makes for a lot of extra paces. He wisely doesn’t ask you to read them.

And then around the corner of the last street and you can see the QZ wall, and the outline of a chain link gate tucked away on the Eastern wall. The sight of the concrete and tar barrier looming ahead brings only more dread.

Something in your head tells you to run now, before the gate. That you stand a better chance alone in the infected filled city weaponless. Logic would tell you otherwise, surrounded by FEDRA is where you’re safest.

Not anymore, whispers a part of you.

As you approach the gate, a man dressed in the blues of FEDRA sits behind the bars. He’s picking his nails with his knife. His FEDRA cap is perched on his knee, revealing what hair he has is thin and patchy.

He’s either half-blind or just stupid, because the smuggler gets you well within firing range, and he’s none the wiser.

Behind a faded green electrical box, the smuggler crouches down and pulls you besides him. He keeps his face close, his gaze boring straight through your pupil down into your soul.

You find yourself a little distracted while he practically breathes his warning.

“You. Keep. Silent.” Three distinct words and you understand him perfectly. You’re guessing he’s going to talk or bribe his way through the gate.

Unfortunately for him, when you speak isn’t up to him. He’s taking you right into FEDRA territory, he must know this is risky.

Unfortunately for you, you start to get a good idea why the smuggler chose this gate, at this hour.

FEDRA has no shortage of dirty soldiers.

The smuggler waits until you nod. His look tells you he doesn’t really believe you. Good, he shouldn’t. If he’s smart, he knows you’d push him off a cliff without a moment’s hesitation if it meant your survival.

When you approach the gate again, it’s head on, no more hiding in the shadows. The smuggler keeps you squarely behind him, keeping you mostly from view. Maybe to hide your identity from your fellow soldier.

“Halt and announce yourself.” The voice is thin, like a needle in your ear drums.

“Sebastian, it’s me Miller.” The smuggler only slows his steps, continuing his approach on the gate. He does put his hands up briefly, to show he’s not holding a weapon. Though from your view from behind you can see his revolver tucked under his belt.

You pop your head to side to get a good look at the soldier, and you feel his eyes clamp onto like a coyote on a sheep leg.

The smuggler talks again, keeping his voice as friendly as you’ve heard it, “I’m calling in that favor, Sebastian. I need to get through, no questions asked.”

Sebastian steps to the side until he can get a better view of you. His eyes gleam with a dullness you associate with sharks. You quell down the ridiculous urge to hide behind the smuggler.

He flicks his eyes back the smuggler, his lips pulling down when he tries to hide his smile, “Yeah uh that favor was more on the lines of getting you out of sewage duty, not something I’ll be hung for.”

He’s not wrong about that. Getting caught sneaking people into the QZ was a life sentence. Or it’s supposed to be, it all depends on who’s the superior officer and whether or not they’re bribable. Maybe FEDRA started out with pure intentions, establish order and safety, but these days it’s more like working for a gang with one hell of an artillery.

“I saved your life,” the smuggler grits out, taking another step towards the gate.

Threatening someone through a gate is an interesting move, you think. Confidence or stupidity? Maybe both.

Sebastian goes back to picking his nails, “Look, it’s nothing personal Miller. If you want me to risk my neck for you, it’s gotta be worth the squeeze, you know?” His eyes land back on you when he says this.

You feel a plan start to form. This man is obviously not your saviour come to rescue you. But maybe you can use him.

“How ‘bout you let me through, and I don’t shoot you,” the smuggler growls, taking another looming step closer. Evidently negotiating is not the man’s strong suit.

The soldier sighs like he’s tired with the smuggler’s shit, “Really, and the shot will bring every soldier down on you in less than a minute. I thought you were better than to make empty threats.”

You can see the smuggler’s teeth bared in a snarl, “It ain’t empty.”

Sebastian purses his lips like he’s considering, and then he looks at you again. “How about you give ten minutes,” he starts, and you already know where he’s going. The smuggler, oblivious, stares in impatience, waiting for him to continue.

“With your girl.”

There it is. As dirty as your hands are about to get, this may be your last chance for freedom. And sometimes a girl’s got to do, what she’s gotta do.

You step in front of the smuggler before he can speak, “If you promise to let us through, and that we were never here.”

The weight of both men’s very different stares hang on you like a shirt of chainmail. You speak again before the smuggler can fuck up this opportunity that’s been handed to you on a platter.

“It’s the only way, we need in,” you insist, praying to a god you know is dead, that the smuggler will just go with it.

The look he gives you sends a chill down your back. It’s the equivalent of pinning someone to a board and dissecting them. It’s a look that says I can see right through you.

You don’t let any more time pass, every second that passes is another where you lose what little control you have. And to keep control is to make the soldier believe he’s the one in control.

“Deal?” You ask him, ignoring the two-hundred pounds of mistrusting smuggler besides you.

Sebastian looks up at said smuggler, and when no objection comes, he approaches the gate, “Back up there,” he orders the smuggler.

Ever so slowly, the smuggler backs up a few feet, not before grabbing your sleeve and turning you to face him.

“The hell are you doing?” He demands in an angry whisper.

“Just let me do this. It’s the only way.” You reiterate, trying to look as honest as possible.

The smugglers brows slam low over his green eyes, “You’re not getting away this way.”

You keep your face still, “I know.”

The smuggler draws away, face hard, eyes narrowed. You step up to the gate, watching the soldier’s hands as he unlocks it.

Once on the inside of the QZ wall, the soldier shuts the gate, locking the gate. You don’t bother to look behind you, you walk away from the gate, your heart a heavy thump in your chest.

You’re so close to freedom you can taste it. So far it tastes like the stale air of alleyways with too much garbage. You don’t make it very far before a hand grabs the top of your shoulder, pushing you down a different alleyway. Right, you still have a few things to take care of.

Sebastian presses himself against you as he leads you to the next corner of the alley, out of site of the gate. The last dregs of night still lays over the city, which you’re thankful for.

“Alright beautiful, time for the follow-through.” He purrs, running his hands flat down your chest, down to grab a handful of your hips.

You’re careful to keep the aggression and violence jumping under your skin from showing visibly.

You face him square on. His clawed hands go to your shoulders, pushing down. The triumphant smirk on his face makes your stomach curl. How many times have this man done this. Used his power to extort the most desperate.

Really, what I’m about to do is downright righteous.

You let yourself be pushed down to your knees. Staring at his hands while he unbuckles his belt inches from your face, you feel a blanketing of your mind. It’s a familiar feeling, one that comes when a shoot-out starts out, or right before the punch lands. It’s the body and mind bracing for what’s to come next.

The soldier pulls out his cock and thrusts his hips at you. You can’t keep the sneer of disgust from your face. He doesn’t seem to care. In fact, if you had to guess you’d say your disgust and discomfort was part of the turn-on for him.

“C’mon lady, ain’t got all day.” He says while he grabs your hair and forces you closer.

Your hands raise to take the cock that’s almost hard already. You’re guessing the fact that the blood didn’t have very much to fill had something to do with that. In fact, it’s almost too small to be able to do what you’re planning.

You manage though, grabbing it with both hands by holding only with your first fingers and thumbs. Enduring the groans from the man above you, you stroke it until its rock hard. You get up on one knee, looking up at Sebastian, your own triumphant smile on your face. His fades a little bit at your expression, but he’s not quick enough to stop you.

Like a carrot, you snap the man’s dick. You hear an audible pop and feel the tender skin underneath your fingers tear. The man above you screams in pure shock and pain, and goes to bend over, clutching at his crotch.

You surge up from the ground and grab the side of his head as he falls, driving your knee up into his face as hard as you can. You keep your hold on the man’s head, made a tad difficult by his lack of hair but you compensate by digging your fingers into his skull.

You feel the familiar blood rush of violence roll over you like a dark wave. You’re left holding Sebastian’s head as he wobbles from having his face bashed in. So you bash it in again. First against your knee, twice more until you hear the nose crack too, before slamming his head against the brick wall.

The man slumps to the dirty ground. You pounce, pushing his hips over so you can access his belt, furiously looking for his gun. But its dark and your fingers don’t feel anything other than belt. Where the fuck does he keep it? Up his ass?

A gunshot rings out from behind where you left your smuggler. You feel your breath hitch, and know your time’s up. You abandon your search, but for good measures you kick Sebastian’s head into the wall one last time on your way out.

You break into a sprint, tearing around the corner only to smack into a familiar body going in the opposite direction. The impact was like running full face into one of the brick walls. While you’re disoriented, your wrist is grabbed.

“Is that blood? The hell did you do?” The smuggler snaps, and starts dragging you back where you just ran from. You spend your energy trying to pull free rather than answer, but the smuggler doesn’t have to wait very far to get his answer.

The body of Sebastian lies face up, his cracked penis and bashed in face on full display.

“Jesus,” the smuggler curses, sounding truly surprised.

It doesn’t matter what technique you do trying to get free again, how you lean your weight, how you dig the fingers of your free hand into his. He keeps his hold on you.

“Fucker!” You scream at him and punch the bastard in the face.

Well, try to. The smuggler sees it coming and just catches your other wrist. He looks down at you, both your hands in his grip. You feel your heart slow. He does not look thrilled.

Shit.

 The sounds of heavy tires from the street overtake the silence. You have maybe less than a minute to clear the area before a flood of FEDRA soldiers arrest both of you.

“The gunshot will’ve brought more soldiers. C’mon.” He whispers. 

Its spoken not as a request. You find yourself being pulled through the back alleys, ducking behind dumpsters to avoid FEDRA vehicles. You feel the sinking weight of defeat settle in your stomach.

You failed.

You were given another chance, and you failed again.

You let yourself be pulled from street to street. First, ducking from cover to cover. Then eventually, the smuggler tells you to just walk normal. He keeps to the outskirts of the QZ, where things look more run down.

“How the fuck you get through the gate so fast?” you demand after your blood has cooled.

“Shot the generator through the fence. Lock popped open. Why there’s supposed to be a guard.”

The office building across the street is clearly abandoned. Probably why this is the building he leads you into. By the time you reach it, its light enough to see the door is painted a peeling rusty red, the same shade as Sebastian’s blood stained into your knee.

Once the door is shut, the sounds of the outside fade into the background. The smuggler leans against the door, breathing out a tired curse.

You don’t wait for him to lead you, you make your way into the office, scoping out the space. When you look back, the smuggler is still leaning against the door with his eyes closed.

His exhaustion is satisfying to see, “So, is this the worst job you’ve ever taken?”

The smuggler grunts, pushing off the door. You’re a good ways down the hall from him, and when you poke your head into an office, you see an open window.

You’re on the second story, but you’d take a broken ankle if it meant going home. Just when you’re debating jumping out the window, you feel a hand clamp down on to your shoulder.

It’s too similar to the way Sebastian grabbed you. The feeling of violation slaps you across the face.

You duck out of his touch and out of his reach. The smuggler doesn’t even look phased at your skittishness. His face remains deadpanned.

“That way,” he points behind him, across the central room where another office door is cracked open.

You have a brief moment where you think about going for the window anyways. The smuggler is patient while he waits for you to decide.

You also know that FEDRA is currently hounding the streets not far from here, and if the crazy bitch that assaulted Sebastian shows up, being arrested would be getting off lightly.

You’re truly damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

You turn your back to the window, and walk past the waiting smuggler to where he pointed. As shitty as it is, you’re safer here with him for the time being.

It’s a similar procedure as the doctor’s office. The smuggler shuts the door and then proceeds to push the couch in the room up against the door, barricading it. He sits down with a spectacular groan.

“There’s food and water in the desk.” He says.

You open the first drawer of the heavy oak desk in the east corner of the room. Inside is more dried fruit. About five pounds of it.

The next drawer yields your best score yet. Jerky. You unwrap the cloth bundle and immediately rip a chunk off. Its salt floods your tongue, restoring some desperately needed minerals. It tastes like deer.

Tucked under the desk is a giant jug of water.

You take your treasures to the far corner of the room and sit with your back to the wall. There you feast. The smuggler starts counting his remaining amo.

“This another smuggler checkpoint or something?” You ask through a mouthful of jerky.

“Or something.”

Your eyes narrow, but the smuggler is unaware perched on his couch. You keep eating, trying to savor it but end up scarfing it down for the most part.

“So what now?” You demand once you feel stuffed to the point of discomfort.

“Now we wait till they stop searching the streets for the crazy lady that ripped a soldier’s dick off.”

“I did not,” you state, “I snapped it, it’s still attached I’m pretty sure.”

A comical shudder passes through the smuggler. It amuses you.

“Well, can’t say he didn’t deserve it,” says the smuggler, “Sebastian’s a piece work.” His voice has a fair amount of disdain in it.

“Probably won’t work with you anymore,” you point out.

“There’s always another,” says the smuggler. It’s said casually. Like its just a fact. Which it is. Being in the belly of the beast really shows you how corrupt your governing body is. The comment still feels like a gut shot. It’s the reason you never let yourself hope for a rescue. You knew you were on your own the moment you were given the assignment.

Goddamn FEDRA might even have something to do with this. You have no idea why, but they’re certainly not above selling their own to their enemy.

If that’s the case, you might be better off being a Firefly ransom. A soldier that knows too much doesn’t stick around very long.

Here in the quiet, you think about what the soldier called the smuggler.

“Miller,” you speak up again, turning the word over in your mind, finding out how it tastes on your tongue, “I met a Miller once.”

The air stills. He doesn’t look at you, just keeps cleaning his gun.

“He saved my life,” you look at him and feel anger boil in your stomach when he still won’t look at you, “I never thanked him.” You see the smuggler’s brows furrow. “Guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

 This tension in the air, when you finally acknowledged who he is, is as clear a confirmation you need.

You’ve met this man before. It seems like a lifetime ago, even when it wasn’t. The same man that saved you all those years ago is the bastard that’s leading you to your death.

The chamber slides into place with a click that echoes in the silent room. He finally meets your eyes.

“How long you known?”

Next chapter

A/N: I hope the dick snapping wasn’t too much lol it just seemed like something she would do

[conarcoin]

phallus dick prick member tool organ cock wang schlong peter knob chopper plonker dong winkle joystick weenie whang willy tockley pizzle stick manhood johnson sexcalibur boner pisser sword rod skinflute thang dingdong ding-a-ling dinky equipment love-muscle stiffy weapon cucumber dipstick rocket banana baseball bat bayonet beast doingus popsicle thermometer peepee peen ween torpedo babymaker arrow appendage anaconda antenna baguette baton banger bellend sausage bopper bouncer branch bulge bumper winky carrot cannoli chubby colossus corndog crankshaft dagger richard hammer groin handle hardware missile jimmy junk kebab kielbasa snake scepter kraken lance leviathan noodle lizard log lollipop moby mushroom package pencil pepperoni pipe piston pogostick private python ranger rascal shiv slug smacker soldier spear sprout stallion stinger stump submarine surfboard sweetmeat tallywacker telescope testosterbone cyclops driver tripod fuckstick flagpole pendulum poker salami shotgun wee-wee weasel wiener wiggler wingwang woody worm thingy tickler tiger timber tip titan toothpick torch tower treasure trinket trombone trumpet turtle turkey turnip twig twinkie twister unit unmentionable vuvuzela vessel vindicator violin volcano wally wand wangdang wanker warrior wenis whip whammer whopper wingman winston wishbone wizard-sleeve woodpecker wrecking ball yankee-doodle yardstick yo-yo yoda yogurt-slinger zapper zeus zipper-ripper zonker zucchini

oh my god

[white-wolf-actually]

*Walks in with a very badly done eyeliner looking like a panda on crack*

I am... The Wiener Soldier

*runs out crackling like a mad woman*

Why did I decide to have (adopt) kids?

*is not amused*

[dykeseesgod]

hello!

do you think it would be possible for you to list which of your hometown usa characters are based off of which particular tom leher songs? sorry if that’s too much to ask- love your blog btw

whether this ask is answered or not, have a lovely day!!

omg no of course i can do that :3 under the cut due to the sheer amount of them

in toyhouse sorting order....

al feelder - 1 verse in it makes a fellow proud to be a soldier

anthony pollocks - the love song of the physical anthropologist

ben repair - be prepared

doe peller - the old dope peddler

eddie sharpless - 1 verse in it makes a fellow proud to be a soldier

endel longmann - loosely the end of the news

felicity gray - when you are old and grey

fred peale - 1 verse in it makes a fellow proud to be a soldier

george humphry - george murphy, whatever became of hubert

holden eadmine - i hold your hand in mine, 2 verses in my home town

iris ballot - the irish ballad

luke tennant - 1 verse in it makes a fellow proud to be a soldier

mason kist - the masochism tango

matthew maddox - thats mathematics, new math

monica hacohen - im spending hanukkah in santa monica

nevada ragburn - the vatican rag

nicholas carol - a christmas carol

pete zipgunn - 1 verse in it makes a fellow proud to be a soldier

polk solari - the folk song army, national brotherhood week

sadie kist - the masochism tango

sam humphry - 1 verse in my home town

saul longmann - so long mom a song for wwIII

sawyer otis - selling out

seth mutt - smut, 1 verse in my home town

snija devi - s-n snore sniff and sneeze

sophia lougie - sociology

sue waye - the subway song, the love song of the physical anthropologist

thea hunt - the hunting song

tommy gray - when you are old and grey but only by extension

wade west - the wild west is where i want to be

wendall gray - when you are old and grey

wernher von wultz - shes my girl, the wiener schnitzel waltz

will algo - we will all go together when we go

[suicideenthusiast]

3-meter-defeater anaconda antenna appendage arrow baby-blaster babymaker baguette ball banana banger baseball bat baton bayonet beast bellend boner bopper bouncer branch bulge bumper cactus cannoli carrot chode chopper chubby cock cocklet colossus corndog crankshaft cucumber cyclops dagger dick ding-a-ling dingdong dinky dipstick doingus dong driver equipment flagpole flesh-chandelier fuckstick groin hammer handle hardware jimmy johnson joystick junk kebab kielbasa knob kraken lance leviathan lizard log lollipop love-muscle manhood meat meat-log meat meat-game sceptor member missile moby mushroom noodle organ package peen peepee pencil pengalang pendulum pepperoni peter phallus pipe piss-dispenser pisser piston pizzle plonker pogostick poker popsicle prick private python ranger rascal richard rocket rod salami sausage scepter schlong sexcalibur shiv shotgun skinflute slug smacker snake soldier spear sprout stallion stick stiffy stinger stump submarine surfboard sweetmeat sword tallywacker tadger telescope testicular-tantrum testosterbone thang thermometer thingy tickler tiger timber tip titan tockley todger tool toothpick torch torpedo tower treasure trinket tripod trombone trumpet turkey turnip turtle twig twinkie twister unit unmentionable vessel vindicator violin volcano vuvuzela wally wand wang wangdang wanker warrior weapon weasel wee-wee ween weenie weeny wenis whammer whang whip whopper wiener wiggler wiimote willy wingman wingwang winkle winky winston wishbone wizard-sleeve woodpecker woody worm wrecking yankee-doodle yardstick yo-yo yoda yogurt-slinger zapper zeus zipper-ripper zonker zucchini

read this in the tone of 2 to the 1 to the 1 to the 3

[lambergeier]

2022 book post FINALLY

this post is six weeks late because, frankly, i was on my honeymoon over new years and its hard to get up the will to type all this shit when everyone has already posted their book lists ages ago!! but also i read a lot of good books last year and wish to gloat, so here we are. italics are rereads, bold are my favorites, asterisks denote not-prose, and reviews are interspersed throughout as i felt like it:

January

No One is Talking About This - Patricia Lockwood (this book made me cry so hard lmao. first part is a sickeningly true-to-life depiction of Being A Blue Check Person and then the second part makes you cry so bad.)

Sorrowland - Rivers Solomon (what the fuck happened to the last third of this book? what shit-ass x-men knock-off did it come from?)

What Soldiers Do: Sex and the American GI in World War II France - Mary Louise Roberts (got on a whole ww2 history kick because, gotta be real, i watched all of band of brothers during winter break 2021-2022 and developed a bug up my ass. pulled this off the shelf at the library on a whim and it was STUNNING. excellently, thoroughly told history of sex, venereal disease, and race among american GIs in normany following the invasion. would read anything roberts now.)

How to Blow Up a Pipeline - Andreas Malm

Hello, Sailor: The hidden history of gay life at sea - Paul Baker and Jo Stanley

Coming Out Under Fire: The History of Gay Men and Women in World War II - Allan Berube (another excellent ww2 book, frequently quoted on this site and for good reason. not written by a historian, so incredibly easy and engaging to read, that presents you with just this amazing overview of how modern american queer identity was totally, inextricably shaped by the us military and the experience of being part of it or even just near it lmao)

February

Possession - A.S. Byatt (really really lovely romance that was such a consistent pleasure to read that i got to the end basically unable to remember favorite lines or even scenes i was just like mmmmmmmm. book good.)

Uncanny Valley - Anna Wiener

Howl’s Moving Castle - Diana Wynne Jones

The Verge: Reformation, Renaissance, and Forty Years that Shook the World - Patrick Wyman (this book sucked ass we gotta stop giving podcasters history books)

Watership Down - Richard Adams (so fucked up. loved this. love that we give this to children to read.)

Dead Collections - Isaac Fellman

March

The Hidden Palace - Helene Wecker (much better than its prequel, imho! resolved many pacing issues but lost no heart!)

The Vanishing Half - Britt Bennet (part of the reason i managed to read so much this year is that i had to drive a lot for work and started putting audiobooks on in the car, having never been an audiobook person before. i listened almost entirely to contemporary litfic this way, a genre i also had not previously engage with, and this was both a fascinating entry into an entire other world of books and also kinda boring sometimes lmao. vanishing half was good, certainly better than some of the other stuff i ended up listening to, but still not something i would have finished if i weren't in the car)

The Reformation - Patrick Collinson (this bitch was so funny his preface to the book was 'i didn't list any sources because i've been teaching this topic for 60 years. the source is Me.' anyways almost totally unreadable but did provide me some good context on the counter-reformation, which i want to learn more about.)

Fleischman is in Trouble - Taffy Brodesser-Akner

Home Baked - Alia Volz (soooooo good all bay area homies please read this)

River of Stars - Vanessa Hua

April

Light from Uncommon Stars - Ryka Aoki (INSANE BOOK. SO FUN.)

*Death of a Salesman - Arthur Miller

Book of Dust - Phillip Pullman

Gold Diggers - Sanjena Sathian

*Angels in America - Tony Kushner (disconnected me from reality for like 24 straight hours. scared to reread it.)

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (read this in high school and hated it because i was a DUMB TEENAGER!! THIS BOOK IS SO FUNNY!!)

Good Omens - Terry Pratchett

Fifth Elephant - Terry Pratchett

May

Mexican Gothic - Silvia Moreno-Garcia (strongly eh.)

Oh the Glory of it All - Sean Wilsey (loved it but feels impossible to recommend.)

Magic for Liars - Sarah Gailey

Foundation - Isaac Asimov (absolutely fascinating as like, a history of the genre thing, even if i only "enjoyed" reading the first two or three stories lol. also, HE COULDN'T PREDICT FIAT CURRENCY?? ACTUAL PLOT POINT THAT THERE AREN'T ENOUGH METALS ON THE PLANET TO MINT COINS???? reader i lost my mind.)

June

All the Pretty Horses - Cormac McCarthy (all the pretty horses my insane high school problematic fave. i will never read the sequels)

Have His Carcase - Dorothy L. Sayers

The Power - Naomi Alderman (as i said on private twitter after rereading, this book makes me sick to my stomach not because of the gender shit, which is like, i know what the book's about that's what it's about it's not gonna be a different book, but christ it's so bleak. love an oral history style but i gave my copy away once i finished lmao.)

Murder Must Advertise - Dorothy L. Sayers

July

Such a Fun Age - Kiley Reid (great audiobook narrator, and a very funny book)

Several People are Typing - Calvin Kasulke (PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS AUDIOBOOK THEY HIRED A FULL RADIO-PLAY STYLE CAST AND SURE THE ACTUAL STORY DOESN'T STICK THE LANDING BUT IT'S SO FUNNY. i finished it on my own and immediately put it back on for emma to enjoy. so good.)

They Were Her Property: White Women as Slave Owners in the American South - Stephanie Jones-Rogers

Hawk Mountain - Conner Habib (oughhhhouguhughuhghh the dread. great book. wretched creeping horror. queer, if that matters. gives you the Dread.)

There, There - Tommy Orange

August

If an Egyptian Can’t Speak English - Noor Naga (experimental fiction, i listened to it on audiobook and actually missed a lot of what it was doing in print but still incredibly good. absolute sucker punch of an ending.)

The Loneliest Americans - Jay Caspian King

Encounters at the Heart of the World: A History of the Mandan People - Elizabeth Fenn (great clear thorough history of the mandan nation of the upper missouri river, really enjoyed this.)

An Immense World: How Animal Senses Reveal the Hidden Realms Around Us - Ed Yong (ed yong is the best science writer working today and this book was tremendous. i quoted like every other line of it to emma and she still went and borrowed it as soon as i was done. we immediately bought a copy for the house.)

Sheer Misery: Soldiers in Battle in WWII - Mary Louise Roberts

September

Black Sun - Rebecca Roanhorse (damn so much modern sff is bad)

I Contain Multitudes: The Microbes Within Us and a Grander View of Life - Ed Yong (not as good as the animal book but still VERY good)

Dark Rise - C.S. Pacat (unfuckingreadable. a masterclass of incoherent bullshit)

Nona the Ninth - taz lol (this should not have been its own book.)

*Ducks - Kate Beaton (cannot recommend highly enough. intense subject matter, also made me cry many times, but holy shit ms beaton you killed it with this one)

Unreleased Friend Book that I Love So Bad (soon!!)

Normal People - Sally Rooney

October

Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger (another book i haven't reread since high school holden ilu. you are my little problems boy)

Pachinko - Min Jin Lee (read it all in one day while on various airplanes. what a BOOK)

Half of a Yellow Sun - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Foundation - Mercedes Lackey (thus begins the valdemar stage of the year)

My Year of Rest and Relaxation - Ottessa Moshfegh (uh. would not recommend.)

November

Devil House - John Darnielle (ur crazy for this one mr mountain goats. still don't know if it was good or bad lol.)

Arrows of the Queen - Mercedes Lackey

Arrows Flight - Mercedes Lackey

Arrows Fall - Mercedes Lackey

Magic’s Pawn - Mercedes Lackey (vanyel i love you)

December

Magic’s Promise - Mercedes Lackey (vanyel i'm obsessed with you)

Empire of Wild - Cherie Dimaline

Magic’s Price - Mercedes Lackey (oh misty we did NOT stick the landing here. rip to vanyel.)

Winter Counts - David Heska Wanbli Weiden

Neuromancer - William Gibson (loved so many individual sentences and, like foundation, a very interesting work for understanding the history of the genre. however in many ways, totally incomprehensible.)

total books: 66!!! nice work, me! really enjoyed how much i read in 2022 and how generally varied it was and after a long while of not reading too much at all, it's been very nice being back in the swing of it. also god non-fiction is so good. i can't read it particularly fast but every time i read a good one i enjoy it so immensely. look forward to reading more of it this year!!!

AND, FINALLY, A SHOUT OUT TO THE WORST DNF OF 2022:

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab sucks shit.

[ironman-tonystark]

If the Avengers were dogs, what dog would they be?

Can’t be bothered doing this for all of us, but Freezer Burn would be a three-legged dachshund. He’d be called the wiener soldier.

[theaviskullguy]

coroika halloween costumes

because fuck yeahhhh halloween

goggles- bedsheet ghost

rider- either he slaps on devil horns and calls it a day or goes ALL OUT for a classic halloween monster costume. im thinking vampire or witch but With Pants

army- military zombie. generic soldier uniform, all that.

aloha- sexy cat but specifically Gretchen Wiener from Mean Girls sexy cat.

mask- San from Princess Mononoke. or Shadowheart from Baldur's Gate. you know she would

Skull- Morticia Addams.

Avi- Gomez Addams as being a werewolf was a lil too on the nose for him since mask keeps joking he's an excitable husky in inkling form. he calls Skull "cara mia" all night. GOD these two are in love

Gloves- Link. totk link to be exact

Emperor- Zelda in the white dress from botw.

Prince- either Grian Hermitcraft or Papyrus Undertale

Regent- Mumbo Hermitcraft or Sans Undertale

Vintage- Demon. He is a damn good demon- he even made a tail. Nice

Hachi- Vampire!!! He looks stunning too

Metry- Also Princess Zelda, but the pink dress in skyward sword

[gacmediadaily]

COMPANY CEO JOINS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER AND STAR OF THE FILM TO HOST SPECIAL RED-CARPET SCREENING FOR MILITARY MEMBERS AND THEIR FAMILIES AT JBLM IN WASHINGTON STATE

JOINT BASE LEWIS-McCHORD, SEATTLE, Nov. 16, 2023 /PRNewswire/ -- Great American Family President and CEO Bill Abbott joined Chief Creative Officer Candace Cameron Bure to host a very special world premiere of My Christmas Hero exclusively for U.S. service men and women and their families yesterday. This special showing was held at Joint Army and Air Force Base Lewis-McChord (JBLM) in Washington state, where the film is set.BILL ABBOTT, CANDACE CAMERON BURE, GABRIEL HOGAN AND GREAT AMERICAN MEDIA CELEBRATE REAL HEROES AT THE PREMIERE OF “MY CHRISTMAS HERO” AT JBLM IN WASHINGTON STATEGreat American Family President and CEO Bill Abbott joined Chief Creative Officer Candace Cameron Bure to host a very special world premiere of My Christmas Hero exclusively for U.S. service men and women and their families yesterday.

"We truly enjoyed the opportunity to salute these real Christmas heroes at the premiere of My Christmas Hero on the joint base," said Bure, who plays Dr. Nicole Ramsey in the movie. "It was fitting to host this screening here at JBLM because that's where the movie's story is set."

The red-carpet screening was held Wednesday, November 15 on the McChord (Air Force) side of JBLM—the base portrayed in My Christmas Hero. Bure stars in and is an executive producer of the new movie. Bure's co-star, Gabriel Hogan, was also in attendance. This event follows a recent announcement that Great American Family has experienced eleven consecutive months of growth making it TV's fastest-growing network.

"Great American Media provides quality family-friendly programming that celebrates faith, family and country, and our unique partnership with Candy Rock allows us to produce best in class content. To be able to celebrate Christmas and this movie with the everyday heroes who selflessly serve our country was truly special for both Candace and me," said Bill Abbott, President and CEO of Great American Media. "My Christmas Hero is at the heart of who we are as a network."

My Christmas Hero is the story of a U.S. Army reservist on a mission to honor a special fallen soldier and bring much-needed healing to her family. Along the way, Dr. Ramsey (Bure) and Major Ross (Gabriel Hogan) may find more than the answers to the mystery!

My Christmas Hero premieres on Great American Family the day after Thanksgiving, at 8 p.m. EST / 7 p.m. CST Friday, November 24. You can find a full list and schedule of Great American Christmas movies at https://www.greatamericanfamily.com.

My Christmas Hero is a Syrup Studios production in association with Candy Rock Entertainment. Mick MacKay serves as Producer, and Martin Wood directs an original screenplay written by Jim Head. Executive producers include Ford Englerth, Jeffery Brooks, Eric Jarboe, Holly A. Hines, Gerald Webb, Jim Head, Trevor McWhinney, and Martin Wood. Supervising Producers include Jonathan Shore, Robyn Wiener, Michael Shepard, and Doran S. Chandler serves as Associate Producer.

ABOUT GREAT AMERICAN FAMILY Great American Family is America's premiere destination for quality family-friendly programming, including original holiday movies, rom-coms, and fan-favorite series that celebrate faith, family, and country. Great American Family is home to year-round seasonal celebrations including Great American Christmas, the network's signature franchise featuring holiday themed movies and specials. Founded in 2021, Great American Family is part of the Great American Media portfolio of brands. Follow Great American Family on Twitter: @GAfamilyTV Facebook:@GAfamilytv Instagram: @gactv

ABOUT CANDY ROCK ENTERTAINMENT Candy Rock Enterprises is a joint venture between award-winning actress, producer, and New York Times Bestselling Author Candace Cameron Bure and the full-service development and execution team behind Redrock Entertainment, Ford Englerth and Jeffery Brooks. Candy Rock's Entertainment division develops, produces, and distributes television projects, lifestyle programming, and feature length films with an emphasis on family-friendly content. Instagram: @CandyRock.Entertainment

ABOUT SYRUP STUDIOS Syrup Studios is a new Canadian production service company based in Vancouver, British Columbia specializing in scripted and unscripted television series and holiday films, rom-coms, comedies, and thrillers. Syrup Studios provides the full spectrum of services including content development, legal and business affairs, budgeting, scheduling, and financing.

Contact: Angela Sullivan, angela.sullivan@gacmedia.com

SOURCE Great American Family

[pawelcyril]

Seven Specifics

Tagged by @lunarlegend , thank you!

Relationship status: long distance now but still going strong.

Favorite colors: dark blues and greens.

Last song I listened to: I Only Want To Be With You by Dusty Springfield.

Song in head: Saint Seiya op 2 Soldier Dream

Three favorites foods: potato pierogi, unadon, and Wiener schnitzel.

Last thing I googled: pharaoh king difference

Dream trip: Iceland would be cool.

I’m tagging @orime-stories @ganbarimaster @primiera @40screamingfrogs @corpseshell @sonoora and anyone else who’d like.

[warrenwoodhouse]

DLCs - Saints Row: The Third Guide - Game Guides - Warren Guides (Game Guides) (Guides) (Gaming)

Guide by @warrenwoodhouse

List of every single DLC, Bundle and Edition.

DLCs

Genki Bowl VII DLC

Homie - CheapyD

Gangstas in Space DLC

Homie - Jenny

Gang Style - Space Warriors

Homie - Space Warriors Backup

Vehicle - Aegean

Vehicle - Add

Vehicle - Add

Weapon - Laser Pistol

Weapon - Auto Laser Pistol

Weapon - Add

Items - Mind Control Helmet

Clothing - Outfit - Space Warrior

Clothing - Upper Body - Tops - Mighty Vest

Clothing - Lower Body - Pants - Combat Pants

Clothing - Lower Body - Shoes - Rebel Kid Boots

Clothing - Wrists - Hands - Hobo Gloves

The Trouble With Clones... DLC

Vehicle - Torbitron

Homie - Johnny Tag

Homie - Aisha Brutina

Outfit - Bee-Holder

Weapon - Swarmatron

Nyte Blayde Pack

Homie - Nyte Blayde

Vehicle - Nyte Blayde

Outfit - Altar Boy

Outfit - Bloody Cannoness

Vehicle - Bloody Cannoness

Explosive Combat Pack

Outfit - Empire Fighter

Weapon - M2 Grenade Launcher

Warrior Pack

Outfit - Knight of Steelport

Outfit - Kabuki Warrior

Outfit - Space Princess

Outfit - Warrior Princess

Horror Pack

Outfit - Flesh Eating Zombie

Outfit - The Slasher

Outfit - Werewolf

Items - Horror Masks

Penthouse Pack

Gang Style - Penthouse - Penthouse 1 (Justine Joli)

Gang Style - Penthouse - Penthouse 2 (Heather Vandeven)

Gang Style - Penthouse - Penthouse 3 (Ryan Keely)

Gang Style - Penthouse - Penthouse 4 (Nikki Benz)

Witches and Wieners Pack

Vehicle - The Salem

Outfit - Witch

Outfit - Hotdog

Outfit - Ninja

Items - Saintly Halo

Items - Devil Horns

Funtime! Pack

Also Known As: Professor Genki’s Hyper Ordinary Pre-Order Pack

Outfit - Funtime!

Weapon - Mollusk Launcher

Vehicle - Genki Manapult

Moneyshot Pack

Vehicle - Ultor Interceptor

Weapon - Togo-13

Outfit - Ultor Assassin

Genki Girl Pack

Vehicle - Angry Tiger

Vehicle - Sexy Kitten

Vehicle - Sad Panda

Unlockable Pack

Vehicle - STAG VTOL

Vehicle - STAG Tank v2

Vehicle - Jet Bike

Rewards - Decker

Rewards - Luchador

Rewards - Morningstar

Rewards - STAG

Bonus - Cash

Bonus - Respect

Bonus - Ho Business

Bonus - Lump Sum Deposit

Homie - NyteBlayde

Homie - Josh Birk

City Takeover

Weapons Discount

Vehicles Discount

Weapon - Satchel Charges

Homie - Zombie Backup

Homie - SWAT Backup

Homie - Burt Reynolds

Items - Killbane Mask

Items - Apoca-Fists

Gang - Followers (Homie Slot 1)

Special Ops Vehicle Pack

Vehicle - Saints VTOL

Vehicle - Saints N-Forcer

Vehicle - Saints Crusader

Viewer Pack The First

Genki Bowl VII DLC Free Co-Op DLC Access

Homie - CheapyD

Viewer Pack The Second

Gangstas in Space DLC Free Co-Op DLC Access

Viewer Pack The Third

The Trouble With Clones... DLC Free Co-Op DLC Access

Invincible Pack

Cheat - Car Mass Hole

Cheat - Never Die

Cheat - Player Pratfalls

Cheat - Infinite Ammo

Cheat - Unlimited Clip

Cheat - Super Saints

Cheat - Super Explosions

Z Style Pack

Weapon - Bling Shotgun

Outfit - Z Style

Steelport Gangs Pack

Outfit - Morningstar Soldier

Outfit - Morningstar Specialist

Outfit - Decker Soldier

Outfit - Decker Specialist

Outfit - Luchador Soldier

Outfit - Luchador Specialist

Shark Attack Pack

Weapon - Shark-O-Matic

Items - Shark Bite Hat

Thank You Pack

Items - 3rd Street Saints T-Shirt

Items - Volition T-Shirt

Items - Free Throw Jersey

Items - Antenna

Bundles

Maximum Pleasure Pack

Invincible Pack

Moneyshot Pack

Funtime! Pack

Shark Attack Pack

Ultimate Franchise Pack

Saints Row 2

Saints Row: The Third

Saints Row: The Third Remastered

Saints Row IV

Saints Row IV: Re-Elected

Saints Row: Gat out of Hell

Plus all of the DLCs

Pre-Order Packs

Professor Genki’s Hyper Ordinary Pre-Order Pack

Outfit - Funtime!

Weapon - Mollusk Launcher

Vehicle - Genki Manapult

Removed DLCs

Initiation Station

Taunts - Shake Fist

Clothing - Lower Body - Crooks and Castles Jeans

Valve Clothing Pack

Also Known As: Team Fortress 2 Pack

Team Fortress 2 Masks

> TF2 Demoman Mask

> TF2 Engineer Mask

> TF2 Heavy Mask

> TF2 Medic Mask

> TF2 Pyro Mask

> TF2 Scout Mask

> TF2 Sniper Mask

> TF2 Soldier Mask

> TF2 Spy Mask

Steam DLCs Only

These DLCs are only available on Steam.

Bloodsucker Pack

Skill - Dracula Blood Sucking

Bonus - 25% VIP Cash Boost

Bonus - $2,500 VIP Hourly Income

Bonus - 20% VIP Respect

Bonus - VIP Scavenger

Unreleased DLCs

Money Shot

Unknown content

Editions

Standard Edition

Saints Row: The Third

DLC00: Season Pass

DLC00.1: Initiation Station

The Full Package

DLC00: Season Pass

DLC00.2: Online Pass

DLC01: Genki Bowl VII

DLC02: Gangstas in Space

DLC03: The Trouble With Clones...

DLC04: Nyte Blayde Pack

DLC05: Explosive Combat Pack

DLC06: Warrior Pack

DLC07: Horror Pack

DLC08: Penthouse Pack

DLC09: Witches and Wieners Pack

DLC10: Funtime! Pack

DLC11: Moneyshot Pack

DLC12: Genki Girl Pack

DLC13: Unlockable Pack

DLC14: Special Ops Vehicle Pack

DLC15: Viewer Pack The First

DLC16: Viewer Pack The Second

DLC17: Viewer Pack The Third

DLC18: Invincible Pack

DLC19: Z Style Pack

DLC20: Steelport Gangs Pack

DLC21: Shark Attack Pack

DLC22: Thank You Pack

Remastered

DLC00: Season Pass

DLC00.2: Online Pass

DLC00.3: PS5 Upgrade

DLC01: Genki Bowl VII

DLC02: Gangstas in Space

DLC03: The Trouble With Clones...

DLC04: Nyte Blayde Pack

DLC05: Explosive Combat Pack

DLC06: Warrior Pack

DLC07: CheapyD Homie Pack

DLC08: Penthouse Pets Pack

DLC09: Witches and Wieners Pack

DLC10: Funtime! Pack

DLC11: Moneyshot Pack

DLC12: Genki Girl Pack

DLC13: Unlockable Pack

DLC14: Special Ops Vehicle Pack

DLC15: Viewer Pack The First

DLC16: Viewer Pack The Second

DLC17: Viewer Pack The Third

DLC18: Invincible Pack

DLC19: Z Style Pack

DLC20: Steelport Gangs Pack

DLC21: Shark Attack Pack

DLC22: Thank You Pack

[rikerofalltrades]

Jesus Isn't Heroine (part 6)

"COOKIE MONSTER SAW YOU DRIVE FAST. HOW FAST WERE YOU DRIVING?"

"…I don't remember, but I was having some trouble with my bra-"

"ME NO WANT NO EXCUSES DEADBEAT! ME KNOW HOW FAST YOU GO, HOW YOU TAKE TURN, BEING SHOW OFF."

Sid's stomach grumbles loudly.

"EXIT CAR AND PUT HANDS ON CAR BUTT."

You do as you're told, and Sid starts to search your vehicle.

He soon finds your emergency rations - more specifically, one of those freeze-dried hard tac things they used to give soldiers in WWII.

"A FUCKING COOKIE?!? ME FOUND DRUGS IN YOU CAR!! YOU FACE BIG JAIL TIME!"

Sid stares at it, salivating. He doesn't know that this survival ration also doubles as a pry bar, hammer and cutting board. It'd break his teeth if he hadn't lost them years ago.

"THIS IS COOKIE, RIGHT? DON'T LIE TO OFFICER" Sid says.

"No, it's hard tac, a survival ration. It tastes as hard as it physically is. You only want to eat that if you have nothing else."

"BULLSHIT! I KNOW COOKIE WHEN I SE---"

A BMW skids out of control after understeering out of a parking lot into the intersection, sliding into - of all vehicles - the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile.

"LAST THING ME NEED TODAY," Sid remarks. "YOU WATCH ROAD, STOP SHOW OFF DRIVING. ME GIVE WARNING, YOU GIVE COOKIE. ME THINKS GOOD DEAL, YES?"

You immediately agree, leaving Sid with the hard tac, a crashed BMW and a damaged wiener, driving swiftly but carefully away.

Fuck knows where you're going to get more hard tac biscuits.

As Sid vanishes in your rearview mirror, the death of famous bigoted evangelist and closeted scat muncher Pat Robertson again occupies your mind.

They don't know, do they?

They can't know. There's no way they figured it out. Why investigate the death of an old, racist fuckhead who seemingly died of natural causes?

Your thoughts do nothing to assure you. After all, it just takes one mistake to get caught, even by the most incompetent investigator.

You head south, away from your path home. It's time to pay the cleaner a visit.