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downywrites · 3 years

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Purpled is interrogated about his linkage to the alien things that have been randomly appearing everywhere. Unfortunately for him, he genuinely has no clue. Aka, just an excuse for lee Purpled. Literally.

Ayo, mates! My requests are still open, if anyone wants anything written!

The whole alien theme was getting out of hand, in Philza’s opinion. The bird man couldn’t find a single place that hadn’t been affected by either the egg or the suspicious alien structures that kept popping up everywhere. They were pretty, but they were a nuisance otherwise. Tommy had been recently complaining of them appearing in front of his house, blocking his way out directly. Tubbo and Ranboo had complaints of the same caliber, having to blow the structure up with a few well-placed pieces of dynamite in order for them to get to their respective places of work on time. Techno had also spoken of random failed ship specimens slamming into him before, although the veracity of that claim is still hotly debated at the dinner table. Nonetheless, it was a problem. A very large, relatively irritating problem. And he knew one of the most likely causes was walking around the area at this very moment.

He scanned the area, sharp eyes undulled by the years scouring the grasslands. A small speck of purple made him grin. There he was.. Purpled. The alien hybrid was known to be a wanderer of his species, getting stranded on the SMP after his UFO failed to take flight again. Then, almost mysteriously, it disappeared. (As in, it blew up, and everyone tried to ignore the shrapnel that landed surreptitiously on their houses.) He had taken to wandering around, fiddling with the extra structures lying about with a look of indifference and a slight flicker of confusion, which added onto the SBI’s belief that he knew what they were, at the very least. Thankfully for the eagle hybrid, the alien usually didn’t pay attention to his surroundings when not in the field of battle. The key word there was usually, though. If he didn’t time his ‘attack’ correctly, he might get a wingtip chopped off by his quick-access dagger. Kneeling low to the ground, he slowly moved closer to the younger of the two. The other didn’t seem to notice, lounging about underneath the shade of a specifically tall tree. A bee landed on his face as he did, but he seemed to not notice, too absorbed in his thoughts. Perfect. The grass gently whacked his face as he slunk closer. Closer….a little more….

Purpled shrieked at the sudden sensation of being tackled to the floor, hand automatically reaching for his knife holster. His eyes shot open to stare straight into bolt blue. “What the fuck?!?” “Sorry mate, I thought you’d run away from me if I walked up to you normally.” He spluttered, mind quickly processing the absurdity of that statement. “So you tackled me instead?” Philza grinned from above him. “I mean, sounds about right.” Purpled narrowed his eyes at him. Wariness was a part of his genes, and he sure as hell didn’t think now would be a good time to let down his guard. “We’ve been wondering what the alien sculptures were. Y’know, the ones that keep miraculously appearing in the mornings. Half-startled the shit out of some of my pals.”

“Uh huh.” The alien deadpanned at the other, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “And this is the reasoning behind tackling me because…?” “I thought you’d know. It does look like you’re familiar with the markings and stuff on the sides of it. Is this true?”: The avian tightened his grip ever so slightly, in the hopes that he would take the hint and answer the question in a straightforward manner. “...Well, I don’t believe I can help you with that. I am not of that species of alien.”

It was Philza’s turn to deadpan at him. He cocked a corn-silk colored eyebrow at him, all playfulness forgotten in the staredown that he and Purpled were currently engaging in. “No, really. What’s going on, mate?”

“First of all, I’m not your mate, and second of all, I still don’t know. What, do you think I can magically glean things from markings?” Philza scoffed slightly. “Doesn’t your species do that? You know, your clothing and your fancy underskin lights?”

“Well,” Purpled answered, matter of fact tone slowly driving the hardcore warrior up the wall, “Our underskin lights and clothes don’t always match up, either. Do humans not have accents or...what was it?...dialects. Yes, that’s the word.”

Philza retorted, “I thought you were a child of your species. How the hell did you even get here, anyways? Do you think your family’s out looking for you? Is that why you don’t know anything outside of your species?” His words struck home.

A small spark of anger lit up in the backs of the alien hybrid’s eyes, pushing at Philza with a strength the other didn’t know he possessed. When he spoke again, his voice was brittle like ice frosting over wood. “My family didn’t want a mutant like me.” The avian felt a pang of empathy for him, loosening his hold a little. His eyes softened, a look of pity slowly growing on his face. The alien didn’t seem to like that very much. In a blur of purple and moss green cloak, Phil found himself smothered by his own garments, his prey’s footsteps leaving him behind. He shoved it off himself, trotting in the same direction to catch up. “Hey! Get back here!” The sound of his footsteps on the pavement echoed slightly, catching his attention. With a powerful beat of his wings, he boosted himself onto the street, sandals making a screeching noise as they made contact with the cobble. A small shape in his line of sight made him ready himself for another boost, wing muscles rippling and wind blowing his family braid around.

Purpled thought he was safe. He had done everything to plan. It was all within his calculations. That was, until the sound of wing beats caught his attention. ‘Can he fly still? I thought his wing was damaged? Oh shit!’ He pushed himself a little more, panting from exertion. He was tempted to use his own to get away, but he shoved the idea back down to the pit of hell it came from. ‘Oh, fuck no. Not dealing with that trauma chapter today.’ He swiveled his antennae around, straining to hear wingbeats… or any noise, for that matter. Confused, he slowed down to a jog, scanning the area for his pursuer. “Where..?” Suddenly, the world careened sideways. He found himself in a very familiar situation. “Uhhh...hi?” “Hello, mate. And sorry, mate.” The hardcore warrior unbottled a potion quickly, the grey potion swishing around as he did so. WIth a flick of his wrist, he poured it over the boy below him. The cold tingle of the potion made him yelp and buck under him. “No! What are you doing?!?”

As the potion’s effects began to make itself known, Purpled’s mind began to fog up, drowsiness slowly suffusing through his body. “If you won’t tell me straight up, I’ll have to enlist some help in finding out.” The alien wanted to retort, but the words stuck in his throat. Against his volition, his eyes began to flutter shut, his focus shifting from trying to push him off to just keeping himself awake. Philza decided to be a little daring. Before he lost his nerve, he pushed his hands through the boy’s platinum-blonde hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

If he had any last fight in him, it dissipated. With a small whine, the boy’s eyes shut fully and did not open again, his chest rising and falling with his slow breathing. “There we go. And now, I just need to recruit my boys to help me get to the bottom of this mystery. No more of those stupid scupltures, not if I can help it.”

“Seriously, are we just going to wait until he wakes up?”

“How else would we get him to wake up? Prime, Techno. Who do you think we are, brutes?”

Through the thinnest slit of sight he could, Purpled glanced at the menagerie of people nervously, hoping fervently that his antennae haven’t given away his consciousness. With the slightest movements of his limbs,he tested the bonds tying him down to the table. He was slightly grateful for the position, seeing that it had kept him from being in the direct line of sight of the duo next to him. The partially spread-eagle position still kept him in a state of unease, instincts screaming into his ears to struggle, to escape. The two people arguing sounded familiar. ‘Wilbur and Techno, maybe?’ It sounded similar, although he was pretty sure he was used to hearing the softer tones of the former’s voice from Ghostbur.

The only sight he had was the inside of the kitchen, the whole place brimming with chaos and entropy and… life. The fruit and food in the pantry was messy, certainly the product of the other people in the house. A twinge of longing snagged in his throat, stopping his smooth breathing pattern for a split second. He prayed that none of them noticed. It didn’t seem as if they did, continuing their banter and arguing over how they were to wake him. A heavy body got up from a chair, the furniture making an ugly shriek as it rubbed over the wood. Equally heavy footsteps moved into the kitchen, appearing in the boy’s view. The visage of the piglin made him sigh inwardly.

‘Yep, I think that’s Techno. And if Philza, Techno, and Wilbur are around together, that means the whole Sleepy Bois Inc. is here.’ An afterthought gave him pause. ‘And Tommy. I really hope Tommy’s not here right now. That would be embarrassing.’ Another pair of footsteps made him force his antennae from moving towards the sound mentally. ‘Shit, this is going to be a challenge. Curse my stupid biology! Why couldn’t I have had a better pair of sensory equipment?’

Philza came into his view, sending a slight chill down his spine. Was it fear? Was it adrenaline? He didn’t know. Whatever it was, it made his heart beat louder and louder, blocking out any ambient sound in the room. “Is he awake yet, lads?” A small frustrated huff escaped the only other person in his view. “Not that I know of. He’s out cold. How much of the sleep potion did you give him?” The avian had the audacity to scratch his head and look away sheepishly. “..the whole pot.”

At the startle and the turn of the head that the winged warrior got, it was evident that it wasn’t supposed to be used like that. “Heh? A whole potion?!?” Techno morphed into a significantly sleeker body, arms stretching out to grab at both of his shoulders. He shook the other slightly, eyes still wide with astonishment. “Why did you use a full potion on a child? Phil?!?” Wilbur piped up from behind him. “Shh, Techno. If you wake him up now, I don’t think we can discuss the plan of interrogation.” ‘Interrogation? Are they going to hurt me?!?’ A slight burst of panic flooded through his veins, forcing him to focus on tamping down his reactions in favor of listening to the others around him without clueing them into his awakeness. ‘Uh huh. The plan. As if we didn’t already discuss this twice before.” Techno made gestures he couldn’t quite understand. “We make sure we don’t hurt him, we get the info, so on and so forth.” Even his gestures were sarcastic. Purpled liked him already.

“Let’s just get on with it. Just wake him up already.” A smile played on Phil’s face. “Mate, I don’t think we need to wake him up…” He trailed off, tone smug and knowing. His antennae, the fucking traitors, curled up a little subconsciously as the man made side eye contact with him. The avian all but crowed. “I knew it. How long have you been awake, Purp?” The jig was up. He opened his eyes completely, wincing a little at the sudden burst of light coming from the skylight above him.

A gasp escaped Wilbur- at least, he thinks it was from Wilbur. It’s kind of hard to see who is who when you’re focused on one person and one person alone. “Don’t call me that.” His voice sounded unused, as if he had forgotten to drink water before he went to bed. Phil didn’t say anything in reply to that, simply grinning wider. “So, the three of us decided that we wanted to get info from you in a way that didn’t hurt you. It’s not something I’d like to have on my consciousness, the harming of an innocent person on the sidelines of something. Besides, it’s not that important.” Purpled’s muscles relaxed a little, reminding him of how tense he was at the moment. “But. I still need info, and it seems that ribbing you again and again won’t be effective for your caliber of stubbornness.” He had to bite back a retort to that, trying not to ignite the ire of the most merciful person in the room.

“I decided on something that I can guarantee has never been used on you as a convincing technique.” The avian moved closer to him, purple eyes following his every movement. WIth a slow, deliberate movement that he must have learn from ages of working with his hand-eye coordination, he placed his hands on his stomach, resting his arms there. Purpled tilted his head, puzzled. “How is this going to make me tell you anyth-”

He choked on his words at the sudden sensation of Phil’s talons scraping on his stomach. He froze in place, willing himself to not flinch or show any sign of weakness in front of the older. Wilbur and Techno stayed back, watching Philza’s movements with a focus that was almost unnerving to the teen. “What does this feel like? You stopped talking, are you okay?”

The avian definitely knew what he was doing, testing out different spots on his stomach with the accuracy of a well-learned tickler. Purpled trembled lightly in his bonds, still trying his best to not show his reactions. It was a challenge, especially so because of the bondage tugging at his limbs with every slight shift in his positioning. The feeling of being helpless was equally as maddening as the careful touch on his tummy. Even through the fabric, he knew that he wouldn’t last long with the way he was tickling him.

Just when the boy thought that he had gotten used to the sensations, the warrior shifted to his sides, nails barely scratching through his hoodies. “Snrk!” ‘Shit.’ “Oh? That was something! Purpled, you can make this stop if you tell us about those structures landing everywhere. Come on, little guy!” His antennae twitched slightly at his words. He shook his head, eyes determined and sharp. “N-no.” A sarcastic voice sounded out behind Philza. “Ooh, baby’s first words.” Purple bristled at the comment. “Why, you-”

With his mouth open, it was impossible to hide the squeak that escaped him as the light scratching turned into kneading. “H-hey!” Techno snorted. “Hook, line, and sinker. He is ticklish, Phil. Just need to find the ‘on’ switch.” Purpled really, really didn’t want him to find any of his sweet spots. He squirmed away from the winged man, trying to evade his clutches now that he was aware of the effectiveness of his interrogation methods.

“Stohop!”

“Oh, no you don’t. No escaping, Purp!”

He squeezed both of the alien hybrid’s sides, kneading a little more into the softer spots. The younger couldn’t hold his laughter back anymore. “Nohoho! Thihihis ihihihis uhuhunfahahair!” His legs and arms strained against the bonds, body bucking and thrashing in a vain attempt to escape the sensation arcing through his body.

“What’s unfair? All you need to do is to give us the info!” Phil’s eyes trailed up to his antennae. “Aww, your little feelers are getting all trembly! That’s so cute!” At the mention of his appendages, he turned his head to the side bashfully, a small bit of flush coming to color his face. “Shuhuhut uhuhuhup!”

“Is that flustering for you?” The eagle cooed a little, before an idea came to mind. “Hey, just a question for you...are your feelers sensitive?” Purpled’s eyes widened. “Noho!” The response was way too quick for his answer to be true. A cheshire grin slowly grew on his face, coinciding with the sinking/fluttering feeling pooling in his stomach. “Oho, is it your sweet spot?” His hands trailed teasingly from his sides up to his antennae, fingers barely grazing the bases of them. Just the lightest touch on them made him squirm and giggle. “Nohohonohoho! Nohohot thehere, p-plehease!”

“Oh? And why not, then?” Wilbur chipped in, chair making a squeaking noise as he stood up. “I think I’ll give you a helping hand, Phil.” A small, quiet “about time” escaped the avian’s mouth. Purpled wanted to speak on that, but the sensation of the light touch moving at such a sensitive spot made him bite his lip in a final resistance to the tingling sensation lingering there. He silenced himself, trying to stifle his giggles as well as he could. “What if I do this, Purp?”

The fingers scratched at either side of one of his antennae’s bases. He squealed, hiccupy laughter escaping him against his will. “EEE! Ihihihi! Nohohoho! Plehehease!” The alien hybrid shook his head, laughter squeaking a little when the movement accidentally scraped Phil’s nails against his skin. The fingers followed his movements, not giving him a moment to rest. Thankfully for him, the man ‘interrogating’ him seemed to understand how ticklish his feelers were, not doing much to speed up the tickling and absolutely destroy him. He was grateful for the moment of relatively gentle tickling, struggling slowly getting less and less and protests beginning to die more and more often before they escaped his mouth.

Subconsciously, his antennae curled closer to the avian’s fingers, as if they were trying to mutually stroke him back. The warrior glanced at Techno, then back at the feelers. ‘Is that some sort of sign that he likes it or something? Damn it, I should have tried to read up more about extraterrestrial body language.’ A sudden buck stopped him from wallowing in his thoughts. “AHA?!?”

“I knew your hips are a good spot!” He turned to look at his son, eyes snapping back to full focus. A beat of laughter from the younger below them passed. “Wilbur. Why did it take so long for you to get from the chair to here?” The musician shrugged. “Took my time, I guess.” Wilbur continued to rub slow circles into the squirming boy’s hipbones, a small smile playing on his face at the reactions he was getting from him. “Stohohop! Ihihihi-Ihihi cahahan’t!”

Purpled’s flustered facial expression and wide smile showed just how effective WIlbur and Phil’s tickling techniques were. The latter chuckled. “Guess the big strong bedwars player can’t handle a little tickling~” He spidered his fingers over his scalp teasingly, just barely grazing the feelers he was scratching earlier. The appendages twitched at the sensation, a small squeal escaping the owner through his already high-pitched laughter. “NohohoHO tehehehe-AH!” His words were swallowed up by his own giggles.

Wilbur grinned triumphantly, kneading his hand into one hip while gently fluttering his fingers over the other. Purpled’s sweatpants blocked some of the sensations, but it wasn’t enough to keep the sparking feeling from coursing throughout his body like an adrenaline shot. He threw back his head, this time avoiding contact with the bird man’s hand. “You ready to tell us, mate?” The duo slowed down a little, giving him a chance to speak. Purpled gasped for air, a smile still plastered on his face. He panted, eyes glazed over a little from the exertion. “You...you guys suhuhuhuck…” His hands balled into fists, resolve (and lee mood) taking over for him. “Ihihihi’m nohohot gohohonna.” Wilbur scowled at him a little.

“Seriously? You have some stamina for a gangly kiddo.” “I’m not gangly!” “Says you. You’re so short.” He growled at the musician a little. Suddenly, a hand laced itself into his hair, making him flinch in surprise. “W-wha-?” “Shhh, Purp. Let me pet you for a bit. How does this feel?”

The fingers slowly raked down his scalp, careful not to nick the then skin. The feeling was heavenly. There was no denying it. Eyes fluttering shut, he pushed his head into his hand. His feelers twitched happily after each round of stroking, making Wilbur stifle a coo at the adorable sight. Techno put down his book, sighing. “Do you really need me to help-” A finger at his mouth stopped him from speaking.

“Shh, let Phil work his magic. Maybe he’ll be willing to give us the info then.” Wilbur whispered, his glasses slipping down on his nose and giving him a disheveled look. A single hoof-hand pushed it up for him. Soft silence surrounded the group for a bit, all for the low, rumbling purr that was emanating from Phil. Wait, from Phil? The two of them snapped to look at their father, a flash of surprise overtaking them both for a moment. Purpled was….purring? Almost reluctantly, the hardcore warrior untangled his hand from his hair, a whine and a stuttering purr following him a little with his head. “Hmm…”

“More headpats after you tell us.”

“Mmmmnooo….”

Purpled opened his eyes slowly, almost boneless in his relaxed state. Philza gently spidered his fingers over the alien hybrid’s neck, smiling slightly at the sleepy giggles it produced. “Aww, come on. You sure you don’t want to tell us, little guy?” Through his giggles, the alien shook his head no, a louder bout of laughter escaping him when the warrior’s hands trailed down to his collarbones.

“Ehehehehe!”

“Kitchy kitchy coo~”

He squealed quietly at the tease, his face blossoming with color again. Wilbur decided to join in again. He carefully traced shapes on the boy’s thighs, enjoying the hybrid’s laughter. “Man, your laugh is so cute! So, Purplee, you going to tell us yet? Or are you having too much fun?” Purpled squirmed in his bonds, sleepily nodding along to what he was saying. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You are?” A mumble underneath his breath. “Phil , what did he say?” The winged man chuckled. “He just said he didn’t know, he just wanted to fuck with us.” Techno snort-huffed. “Of course he did. We are so getting him back for that.” “Why not now?” Blood red eyes shifted to the floor, then back to the bound alien hybrid.

“Because. Look at him. Do you really want to snap him out of this?” Coffee-colored eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. “Is the great Technoblade being soft for a lil guy?” Techno cleared his throat, shaking his head and making his ears flop. “No. Wilbur, no.” The musician walked closer to him, looking up to stare directly into his eyes. “Is the great Blood God getting whipped over a bedwars player?” A low growl cut through the air. “Wilbur, if you don’t stop now-”

Another round of purring stopped him mid-sentence. “That’s it, Purp. You did great.” Phil glanced at the duo who had done virtually nothing to help him, a small glare hinted in the back of his eyes. ‘You will pay for this.’ Wilbur took a step back. Techno did the same, tail whipping at the floor in anticipation. The hardcore player treaded his hands deep into his silky hair, coaxing him back into a resting state. “Did you like this? I hope you did.” Sleepy eyes opened just barely, eyes twinkling with adoration. “....yea...will y’ do ‘t again?”

A breath that he didn’t know he was holding escaped with a happy trill and lilt. “Of course, mate. Sleep well.” For the second time that day, Philza gently coaxed the boy into slumber. A sleepy smile plastered on his face, Purpled’s chest rose and fell rhythmically once more, calm and deep like the lapping of a purple-platinum ocean. “Now, as for the fact that you two didn’t help me at all with that…” He stepped closer to his sons, wings spreading outwards like a rippling wave of pitch. Nervous giggles escaped Wilbur and Techno.

“Nonono! Phil, pleasE-”

Purpled didn’t wake until the morning rays shone down on his face, the scent of pancakes and the smell of home wafting into his nose. And, no, he didn’t inquire at all about why Techno and Wilbur refused to look the eldest in the house in the eyes.

It felt good to be with them.

He hoped it would always last.

#my writing #downywrites #downy writes #tickle fic #sfw tickle #my fic #mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #lee!purpled #ler!wilbur #ler!philza

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stareyedplanet · 4 years

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Sarge’s Girl || 01

• Chapter One •

“Mama, I’m an adult now. I’m going dancin’ with Madeline and Ruth, whether you say I can or not,” Anabelle pursed her lips as she spoke to her mother. She was 24 years old. She wasn’t a child anymore. Yet her parents didn’t seem to see that.

“You wanna take a different tone with me?” Her mother suggested, raising an eyebrow in warning.

Anabelle sighed and backed down. The last thing she wanted was to get herself grounded. That would certainly put a damper of her evening plans.

“Mama, all I’m sayin’ is that I wanna go out and have some fun. Just for tonight.” Anabelle said, her hands clasping together over her chest. She was practically begging.

It was Ruth’s 26th birthday, and she wanted to celebrate, even if there was a war going on. Her boyfriend was going off to war soon, and she needed an excuse to see him. Ruth’s parents were extremely strict, and her boy, Tommy, wasn’t exactly up to par with their standards.

So the plan was devised, and Anabelle and Madeline were more than happy to go along with it, just to see Ruth happy.

“Madeline, Ruth and you are gonna be together? All night?” Her mom asked, hands on her hips.

“Yes, mama,” Anabelle answered dutifully.

“And there will be no boys there?”

“Yes, mama,” Anabelle lied, keeping her gaze on her mother. “Even if there were I’d never even think of talkin’ to them.”

Anabelle’s mother nodded. She considered the idea a moment longer before sighing.

“Alright, you can go.” She relented, causing an excited shriek to leave her daughter’s mouth. “But, you are to be home no later than ten, understood?”

“Completely, mama,” Anabelle nodded and smiled. She hugged her mother. “I’m gonna go get ready at Madeline’s house!”

“Anabelle, I mean it,” her mother warned. “No later than ten. And no boys.”

She couldn’t have her eldest getting pregnant. The family was already one of six. They couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. And until the point in time that Anabelle got married, which was the only option in her parents eyes, she would still live with them. It was a funny sort of irony. She wasn’t to meet boys, yet she was to be married. To a man. Sometimes her parents completely confused her, yet she didn’t argue.

She moved over and kissed her mother’s cheek swiftly.

“Yes, mama, I know.” She assured the older woman.

Her mother nodded and waved her away, returning to the dishes in the kitchen.

Anabelle darted to her room, grabbing a few things and dropping them into her purse. She would borrow one of Madeline’s dresses, as she had the best ones, and was the only one of the three girls who could really afford nice clothes. Ruth and Anabelle’s families were less well-off, but they never complained. And Madeline never hesitated to share.

It took Anabelle nearly an hour before she found herself outside Madeline’s house, in the wealthier part of Brooklyn. She knocked on the door, being greeted by Madeline’s mother and let into the home. Madeline and Ruth squealed, hugging her when she entered the home. The girls laughed and talked as they got ready.

“My Ma says we have to be home by eleven.” Ruth tells the other girls, pinning her blonde hair up.

“Mama says I have to be home by ten. No exceptions.” Anabelle frowned, putting an earring in her ear.

“Awe, that’s okay sugar. Worst case we just spend the night here, yeah? Ma won’t mind, and if my Ma tells yours it’s okay, you’ll be fine.” Madeline assured, running some lip gloss along her lips.

“You girls ready? I told Tommy we’d get there round eight.” Ruth piped up, smoothing the front of her dress with shaky hands.

She was nervous, and upset. This was the last time she would get to see Tommy before he was shipped off to fight in this war. There was a chance it was the last time she would ever see him. So naturally, she was a little anxious.

Both the other girls shared a glance, standing up and gathering around Ruth, who looked close to tears. The pulled her into a hug.

“He’s gonna be okay, Ruthie,” Anabelle assured, wiping her tears away.

“Yeah. He’s goin’ to protect you, sugar. And he’ll come back to you cause of it.” Madeline said. “Now come on, let’s not keep your man waitin’. That way you two can spend as much time together as possible.”

Anabelle nodded encouragingly, coaxing a small smile out of their friend.

“Yeah, you two are right. Let’s get goin’.” Ruth agreed.

The two arrived at the club at top speed, wanting to have the best evening they could. As soon as they arrived, Ruth completely vanished into Tommy’s arms, already pulled to the dance floor, her fears forgotten and a laugh bubbling around.

Madeline and Anabelle grabbed themselves some drinks and secured a place to sit. It wasn’t long before Madeline was whisked away into a man’s arms.

So Anabelle sat alone. She didn’t entirely mind as she sipped on her drink. It was how it normally went. Anabelle kept an eye on her two friends, and whatever man was with Madeline that night, just to make sure she was safe. Sometimes she danced, most of the time she just people watched.

It was exactly what she was doing now when her eyes landed on a man, who was in fact staring at her. There was a skinny boy beside him, talking, though the taller man didn’t seem to be listening.

He waved his friend away, saying something Anabelle had no hope of understanding. She averted her gaze, hoping to avoid an interaction. Tonight, she had no desire to dance.

Fate was against her.

The handsome stranger sauntered on over to their table, leaning his forearms on it. He flicked his eyes over her momentarily, subtly, admiring her beauty.

“What’s a dame like you doin’ sittin’ all alone?” He asked, a sultry smirk on his face.

“What’s a guy like you doin’ disturbing the peace?” Anabelle shot back, eyeing him.

He was a nice piece of eye, with short brown hair and piercing eyes. However, she could tell he was a player, and Anabelle wanted nothing to do with him.

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning a hurt expression.

“You wound me,” he told her, but his smirk returned soon enough. “Name’s Bucky.”

“I don’t care what your name is, you’ll never be hearing it from my lips.”

“I think you’ll be changing your tune after a dance, doll,” Bucky told her, confidence oozing off of him in waves.

He was frustratingly persistent already, and Anabelle had only been talking to him for mere minutes. She could only imagine how much more insufferable he would get if she agreed to dance with him.

“Sorry, sugar, but I don’t dance with men like you.” She told him, mocking the nickname he called her. “Oh, wait, never mind. I just won’t dance with you.”

Bucky grinned, pushing a hand through his short strands. He had picked the prettiest girl in the joint and it turned out she was feisty. It only made her more endearing. After all, he was getting sick of all the giggly girls, who were admittedly a fun evening, but otherwise too much for him to handle.

“One dance. I’m on my knees here begging, doll,” Bucky pleaded, his blue eyes shining. He bit his lower lip, the action drawing Anabelle’s eye. She found herself staring at his lips, only breaking her gaze when Bucky chuckled.

Her eyes snapped up to his eyes and her parted mouth snapped shut. She couldn’t say his eyes weren’t just as easy to get distracted by, but then, she was gently being tugged to the dance floor.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, but she didn’t try to pull away, even though she could. Bucky’s grip on her wrist was hardly tight, and it was obvious he would let her go if she pulled away.

“So, you ever gonna tell me your name, doll?” Bucky asked her, pulling her into a dance. His hands rested on her waist, a signature smirk resting on his lips.

Anabelle shook her head, a playful glint in her eye. If he could have fun, so could she. But she refused to let herself fall for Bucky in any capacity. She didn’t want her heart to get broken.

Bucky kept Anabelle on the dance floor all night. She had slowly relaxed into him and begun to let loose, laughing in enjoyment. He loved her laugh. The way her eyes lit up and her bright smile that accompanied the angelic noise.

“Anabelle, oh thank goodness I found you!” Ruth said, tugging her away from Bucky. The girl momentarily got distracted by the tall man before her. She shook her head and got back on topic. “We have to go! Now.”

“What? Why?” Anabelle asked, furrowing her brow.

“Darlin’, it’s late! Our curfew was ten, eleven at latest. It’s nearly midnight. We gotta go.” Ruth said, tugging on her arm.

Anabelle’s eyes widened. How could she have lost track of time so easily? It had been eight not to long ago, hadn’t it? She couldn’t understand how time had flown so quickly.

She glanced at blue eyes and quickly understood. It had been him. He was the reason she lost track of time. Nothing good came from dancing with strangers. She should have listened to her mother.

He gave her a boyish grin, tilting his head to the side.

“Looks like you have to go doll,” he said, a frown on his face, paired with disappointment in his tone. “At least I know your name now.”

“Bya, Buck,” she told him, Ruth still tugging her away.

Just like that, the smile snapped back into place.

“I told ya I’d be hearing my name from your pretty lips,” he called after her.

Anabelle blushed, ignoring the onslaught of questions that ensued directly after the interaction. Madeline caught up to the pair, and after hearing the news that Anabelle had found herself a man, even she was in on the interrogation.

She shook off their questions, not wanting to have to talk about a man she would never meet again. He was a charmer, should would give him that, but she wasn’t about to get hung up on a man she had danced with for one night.

Her life moved on, as did her heart. She had hardly gotten attached. It had been only one night after all. There was no use in shedding some tears over a guy.

“Mama here are the tomatoes you wanted,” Anabelle said, putting the two tomatoes into her mother’s basket. It was a special occasion in the Burton which called for a special meal.

Anabelle’s little brother, Charlie was turning ten. The age of ten was the last time any of the Burton children got to celebrate their birthdays, so Bonnie, Anabelle’s mother, did her best to make it special.

“Thank you, honey. Could you go get me a loaf of bread from the bakery next door while I wait in this line?” Bonnie asked, handing her daughter some money.

“Of course mama, I’ll be right back.” Anabelle nodded, slipping the coins into her pocket.

She hummed as she crossed the street to the bakery. When she entered the sweet smelling store, Anabelle stopped dead in her tracks. It had been four months. Why was she seeing him now?

Of course, he was with a girl, and they were smiling and laughing. Anabelle’s thought grew bitter as she realized that he was indeed a player, a man who could never stick with one girl for too long.

She kept her gaze on the ground, but once again, fate seemed to be against her.

“Anabelle?” Bucky asked her.

He had glanced over his shoulder only to see the girl that had been in his dreams all these months.

Despite how often he went on dates, solely for the reason of forgetting her, Anabelle stayed stuck in his mind like glue.

She defiantly ignored him, but her was persistent, just as he had been that night, and eventually she glared at him.

“I wouldn’t think you’d be talking to me instead of your date,” she spit out, her face neutral.

Bucky’s face contorted between happiness, confusion, and finally, pure utter amusement. He bursted out laughing, wiping away tears. Anabelle simply stood shell-shocked as he laughed. She wasn’t sure what was so extremely funny.

“I didn’t take you for the jealous type doll,” he said, his laughing calming down.

“I’m not.” Anabelle insisted. “And I’m not your doll, so stop calling me it.”

“Fine then, Annie. You should know you have nothing to worry about. That’s my sister, Becca.” He said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

Annie was even worse than ‘doll.’ She wasn’t sure why, but it just riled her up. Anabelle wasn’t sure what Bucky’s plan was here, but if it was to annoy her till the ends of the Earth, it was working.

“Don’t call me Annie, either. I’d appreciate if you left me alone.”

“Can’t do that, Annie,” Bucky shook his head with a grin. “I’m glad I’ve found you. I wanted to ask you on a proper date that night but you had to go. So whaddya say?”

“No.” Anabelle answered quickly, and Bucky seemed momentarily stunned, but he was quick to recover.

“Well why not?” He asked. “C’mon, just one date. Please?”

“No.” Anabelle repeated, sending him a look. “I’ll just keep asking until you say yes,” he warned.

“And my answer will always be no.”

“You also said you’d never say my name, but we both remember how that ended.” Bucky smirked.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” she sighed, groaning as his face turned smug.

“See, you just said it again. I’ll get you to change your mind.” He promised her, backing away when his sister joined him. “See you again, Annie.”

Bucky and Becca left the bakery, and Anabelle realized she was in for a ride. He wasn’t going to give up, but Anabelle was no longer sure she wanted him to.

#bucky barnes x oc #ocapp #marvel #story #oc #40s!bucky #AU #bucky #steve rogers #Sarge’s Girl

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