#and buck having some emotions because when does he not

[freedomfireflies]

Insufferable You*

Summary: The third part to Infinite You*

The one where Harry is still in an open relationship with your best friend, so maybe it's time to remind him what he's missing.

Word Count: 7.3k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, edging, spanking, brief exhibitionism, sir kink, masturbation, brief choking

“Kitten…what are you doing?”

Your whimpers are airy. Light. A string of breathless pleas woven between the soft sounds of your fingers fucking into your cunt. And you can’t answer his question. Can’t find the strength to pull yourself away from the pleasure between your thighs.

“Kitten,” he asks again and it’s firm. “Talk to me.”

He’s panting through his request and the sound—the image in your head of the way he must look, fucking his fist to the melody of your voice almost hurts you.

“I’m…I’m playing with my clit,” you answer. He groans. “Just like you do.”

“Just like me, hm?” He curses on his end of the phone and your legs shake. “How?”

“M’pinching it,” you tell him. “And pulling it. The way you like.”

His noises are louder. Needier. He must like the image in his head, too. “God, I’d give anything to see it, baby. Give fucking anything to watch you touch yourself for me.”

Anything. Anything. You shiver. “Yeah? You’d watch me?”

“Mhm.” He’s getting closer and you don’t want this to end. “Sit there on my knees and take every drop in my mouth when you’re done.”

Your hips buck up and your fingers sink deeper. He ruins you even when he’s not here. “I know,” you whisper. Your eyes squeeze shut. “And I’d let you.”

He makes a sound that might be a laugh but could be a strained moan. You aren’t sure. But you don’t really care because it’s beautiful, no matter what it is. “Kitten,” he exhales and your insides twist. “I need you to cum for me, okay? I need to hear you. God, I need to fucking hear you, baby, let me. Come on—”

There’s something in the way he speaks. Like he’s just woken up. Rough and low and thick. He sounds like sex and you miss hearing it in person. But you were desperate—you had to call him. You had to hear him talk you through this moment and you’re so glad you did.

When you cum, it’s everything. Perhaps not as satisfying as when it’s with him, but still euphoric. And your whimpers of pleasure are what send him over the edge.

The phone fills with the sounds of your ecstasy and you wish you could record the way he moans your name. You wish you could bottle this feeling and get drunk on the way he adores you. 

Instead, you indulge in the few moments you have with him. Because you know they won’t last much longer.

“That was good,” you tell him breathlessly and he chuckles. “How are you so good at that? Even over the phone?”

“Could ask you the same thing. Now I’ve got a sticky hand and nobody to clean it up.”

You pout. “Stop, don’t tell me that. It’s not fair.”

He laughs again. “Sorry, Kitten. Couldn’t help it. You all right? You feel better?”

“I do. Thank you for letting me call you.”

“Always.”

Your heart skips. “So…what are you up to today?”

There’s a pause. A long pause and you know what he’s going to say even before he says it. “Rebecca and I are running some errands.”

“Oh.” Oh. Your throat goes dry. “Right…sorry, I’m…you probably need to go, don’t you?”

Another pause. “In a bit,” he says. “After I make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you say far too quickly. And far too obviously forced. “Yeah, no, I’m…duh. Obviously I’m okay now. After…yeah. Okay, sorry. You can…I’ll talk to you later—"

“Kitten.”

You stop. “What? I’m…I’m letting you go—”

“Don’t. I want to talk to you a little longer.”

“But you’re busy—”

“It can wait.”

Swallowing, you whisper, “Harry, I’m…I’m just saying—”

“So am I.” He’s firm again. “Don’t do that. Don’t send me away because of her. We can talk. I promise.”

Your eyes squeeze shut. You force the tears back. Why does orgasming make you so emotional? “I know, I just…she’s there, isn’t she?”

Another beat. “Not in the room.”

“But she’s there. In the apartment. Near you.”

“Yes.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “See, that’s…that’s why I’m letting you go. So you can be with her. Okay? I’ll talk to you later—”

“Kitten.”

“Harry.” You huff if only to make yourself sound stronger than you feel. “I’m okay. You can go.”

“You’re not okay. You’re sad.”

“I’m…no, I’m not sad, I’m just…I’m tired. I came really hard.”

“I know you.”

“Well…you don’t know me that well. Cause I’m fine.”

“Baby—”

“Just go,” you insist. “I promise I’m okay as long as you are. I shouldn’t have called so early anyway, that was…I’m sorry. That was my mistake—”

“You can call when she’s here, you know that—”

“But I don’t want to.”

Another long pause that feels like an eternity. “Okay,” he finally murmurs and you pull the phone away to take in a shaky breath. “But I want your honesty. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Are you really okay?”

Truthfully, you don’t know. “Yeah, I’m fine. Swear. Thanks for helping me. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You will,” he agrees. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Rebecca’s dinner.”

Fuck. You forgot. “Oh…right—”

“You’ll be there. Right?”

It doesn’t really feel like you have a choice. “I…I don’t know yet, I might be busy—”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t know that. I could have plans.”

“You do. With us.”

Us. Your nose scrunches. “I mean other plans—”

“You don’t.”

“I might—”

“You don’t. If you did, I’d know.”

“Well, that’s presumptuous.”

“Maybe, but it’s true. Because you talk to me. When I ask you a question, you answer honestly. You’re a good girl. I know you.”

Your chest feels tight again. “Well, I don’t tell you everything.”

“You should.”

“You don’t tell me.”

“Because you don’t ask.”

He’s right. You never ask him anything personal because honestly, you’re afraid of what he’ll say.

“Fine,” you agree. “I’ll be there. Are we done?”

He waits a moment before saying, “We’re not done. We’ll discuss this later. But for right now, yes.”

And even if he sounds a bit strict, you can’t help smiling. “Yes, Sir.”

“Mm. That’s my girl. Take it easy today, all right?”

“I will.”

“Good. See you tomorrow, Kitten.”

“Goodbye, Sir.”

He chuckles and you hang up and even despite everything else…you can’t help but grin.

“Oh, my god. He does. Every time. He’s got such a weird thing with feet.”

You laugh. “It wasn’t so bad at first. But then he got a little too comfortable—”

“No, he does that. He really does.” Rebecca smirks as she throws the freshly chopped carrots into her pot. “And it started out cute, but now…”

You both glance into the living room where Harry is relaxing on the sofa. He’s smiling as he watches the two of you work on the food and even if he can’t hear you, he must know you’re talking about him.

“It’s still cute,” you argue in his defense. “Gross…but cute.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I guess he can be cute when he wants to be.”

You grin together and this feels good. You’ve missed your friend. You’ve missed having someone to laugh with, gossip with. And maybe it was strange at first, to come into their apartment and talk to your best friend about sleeping with her boyfriend.

But after a minute or two, you settled right back into the familiar rhythm of your friendship. And it almost felt…normal. 

“Has he done the thing where his left leg starts to shake when he gets overstimulated?” she asks and you nearly snort. 

“Oh, my god. Yes. The other day. I thought he was having a heart attack.”

“It’s the funniest thing. It just started, too. Couple years ago. He swears it doesn’t but like…I can see it.”

“It’s quite the tell,” you agree and you can’t help the way your eyes drift back to where he’s lounging on the sofa.

He notices and smirks at you.

“What?” you call.

He shrugs. “Nothing. You girls are cute, that’s all.”

“Bite me,” Rebecca says and he chuckles. “We’re not cute. We’re hot.”

“Absolutely,” he agrees. He leans forward. “Let me guess. You’re telling her about the leg thing?”

“Yup. And I was right,” she says smugly. “She sees it, too.”

His eyes roll but he smiles at you. “It’s not that bad—”

“No, it is,” she argues. “You look like a dog. A very cute dog, but still.”

He laughs a little louder and you’re almost jealous of their dynamic. A dynamic you’ve been witness to for almost five years. And it’s never made you jealous before.

But now…

She puts the soup on simmer and grabs your hand to lead you to the living room. “I told you we were gonna gossip about you,” she reminds him. “All good things, don’t worry.”

“I’m sure.” He smiles at you both as you take a seat on the sofa. She flops down right beside him while you cautiously sit on the other end. Exactly where you’d been that first day you agreed to this arrangement. “This is nice,” he says.

She hums. “Yeah, it feels like old times.” She glances toward you. “And it’s not weird…is it? I mean, you feel okay?”

Feeling a little hot under the spotlight, you swallow and force a quick shake of your head. “No, this is…it’s good. This is fun.”

However, she knows you better than anyone and her brows pull together as she studies you. “Do you have any questions? Or anything we can clear up?”

“Uh…I don’t know.” Truthfully, you don’t want to ask. “Is it…is it weird for you guys?”

They both shake their heads, almost as if in sync, and you resist the urge to scrunch your nose.

“Do you…have any regrets?”

“No,” she says and Harry agrees. “None. Do you?”

“No,” you echo. “No, I just…I don’t know. This still kind of feels like cheating.”

They exchange a glance and your heart skips. You’re even jealous of the way they look at each other.

“Rebecca and I have always agreed that whatever the other decides to do is their business,” Harry says. “As long as we communicate, there's freedom there. No judgment, no expectations, no regret.”

“And no jealousy,” she adds, offering you a soft smile. “Or shame. Or anything like that.”

You nod and pick at a loose string on your jeans. “And are you two…I mean do you still…”

“No,” she assures you and you’re thankful she figured out what you meant. “No, we haven’t in a few weeks.”

“Oh…because of me?”

She shakes her head while Harry says, “Not entirely. Most of it is for safety reasons. Keeping things clean and respectful. But it’s also one of our rules.”

“Rules?”

“We have a few rules we like to follow,” she explains. “It just makes it easier. Sometimes it can be tricky and this helps keep us on the same page.”

“And no sex is one of them?”

“Kind of. We don’t sleep together if one of us is seeing someone else. Well, no penetration, anyway.”

You hate the way your stomach sinks. “Oh. And…do you date other people…a lot?”

He looks over at her and she thinks. “Not…really?” she says. “I don’t think, anyway.”

“Jack was the last guy you were with, right?” Harry asks and she snaps her fingers.

“Jack. Right. Yeah. He was cute. And then yours was…Angie? I think?”

He nods. “Last year.”

“She was nice.”

“She was…sure. Yeah. She was nice.”

Rebecca laughs and he grins proudly, happy to have made her laugh. Your nose scrunches.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Rebecca argues. “She was just put in a weird position.”

“Literally and figuratively.”

She smacks his arm playfully and he pinches her thigh. You want to look away. 

“Either way,” she finally says, “we don’t very often. And I don’t think of it as cheating. Especially not with you. Because I know he’s a good partner and I know that you deserve someone as kind as he is.” 

He gives her a grateful grin before returning his attention to you. “We can stop if you want. Because I agree with Bex. I wouldn’t want to lose you as my friend and if you feel pressured or unsure—”

“I don’t,” you nearly rush to argue. “No, I don’t, I…I’m just really struggling with the dynamics of it. I guess.”

“Trust me, I get it,” she says gently. “It was a bit of a learning curve for us, too. Harry can get incredibly jealous.”

You’re tempted to tell her that you already know but you watch his reaction instead.

His eyes roll but then his stare returns to you and he winks, as though he’s recalling the same memory you are. 

It makes your skin feel warm.

“Oop, hold on. I gotta check the soup,” Rebecca suddenly exclaims before jumping off the sofa to rush back to the kitchen.

And now left alone together, your attention is drawn back to the tall, handsome man you can already feel staring at you.

“Any more questions?” he asks softly. He leans forward and places his elbows on his knees and somehow, even that makes you feel safer. 

“Just one,” you murmur and he nods. “Does this mean you and I are…dating? Or are we just fucking until I can find somebody else?”

There’s a slight edge in your voice that you hadn’t meant to be there, but he picks up on it instantly.

“Are you looking for somebody else?” he asks.

“Not really. But this whole thing started because you both felt bad for me,” you remind him. “And it’s been a lot of fun. Honestly. But you are kind of on loan. I just…I’m not sure what this makes our situation. If we’re just fucking…or more.”

He takes a moment to think about his answer, eyes flicking between yours almost as though studying you. “Would you like there to be more?”

You bite back huff. He’s very good at redirecting. “I don’t know. Would you?”

“I think more can get complicated.”

Your feel your expression fall. “Right.”

“And I don’t want to lose you from my life for good,” he continues. “You know that. Neither of us want to lose you—”

“Right, yeah. It’s fine. Forget I asked.”

He’s frowning now. “Kitten, don’t do that—”

“No, really,” you argue. “It’s fine. You’re right. Let’s just keep it like this until I can find somebody else.”

The frown turns into a glare. “Kitten—”

“Okay, soup is almost done,” Rebecca announces as she returns. This time she sits next to you and throws an arm around your shoulder. “What did I miss?”

The tension is palpable. You speak first. “I was just telling Harry that I might not need his services much longer.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows raise while Harry’s scowl deepens.

“Oh?” she asks.

You nod. “Well, seeing as we don’t want to do anything to ruin the friendship…I thought I’d give Ethan a call.”

It’s mean and perhaps a bit cruel, but you can’t help yourself. You aren’t trying to hurt him. Because he is right. And don’t want to lose him for good, either, and all this evening has truly done is prove how close he and Rebecca actually are.

You’ll never be able to compete with five years of love and affection. And maybe you don’t want to.

Maybe it’s time to move on.

“Ethan?” Harry repeats while Rebecca perks up.

“Yes,” she squeals excitedly. “Oh, I was hoping you would. He’s so nice, I think you guys would be perfect together.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a pointed look at Harry. “I think so, too.”

He knows what you’re doing. You can tell. And he’s oddly calm as he leans against the cushions and tosses his arms over the back of the couch. “And who the fuck is this Ethan?”

“Guy from my work,” you answer, equally as calm. “Nice. He’s been asking me out for a while.”

“A while.”

“Yeah, a while.”

His brows furrow. “So why do you want to go out with him now?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “He was never really my type before but we’ve gotten closer recently. I think it’s only fair I give him a real chance.”

“Really?” He’s curious. Maybe skeptical. “Now?”

You nod. “That way the three of us can preserve our friendship. Since that is the most important thing.”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Rebecca tells you and hugs you to her side. “You’ll have to let us know how it goes.”

You grin and it’s all teeth. “I will.”

Dinner is nice. Tense but nice. You and Harry spend a majority of the meal exchanging icy glances and keeping to yourselves, leaving Rebecca to do most of the conversing.

And she doesn’t seem to notice. That or she merely pretends not to. She catches you up on some drama at work. Teases Harry about his sleep talking. Says she’s planning to visit her parents in a few weeks and then gives you the recipe for the soup.

And you and Harry nod politely, despite the unspoken rage from your ends of the table.

When dinner is finished, Harry offers to clean up and do the dishes. She kisses him on the cheek gratefully and says she’s gonna go take a quick shower since she’s got an early day tomorrow. She tells you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like and then she hugs you tightly and whispers, “I’m so glad we’re still friends.”

You hug her back and agree.

The moment she’s gone, Harry sets down his sponge and turns to you. “Come here.”

You hesitate by the front door, itching to escape. But he’s firm as he watches you from the sink, eyebrow raised and jaw clenched, leaving you no choice but to listen.

“Kitten,” he repeats. Lower. Sterner. “Come. Here.”

You take a tentative step toward him. “What?”

“We need to talk.”

“Do we?”

“Kitten.”

You huff and throw your purse back down. “I really don’t think we need to—”

“I don’t care what you think. I’m telling you that we’re gonna have a chat and you’re gonna come in here like a good fucking girl and talk to me.”

This is how he gets you. This is how he pulls your strings and turns you around until you obediently join him in the kitchen. Like a good fucking girl.

Satisfied, he leans back against the counter. “Now. What’s this Ethan shit you pulled?”

“It’s not shit, it’s real,” you huff. “He really did ask me out and I really am going to say yes.”

“But you haven’t yet.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I told you. He wasn’t my type—”

“No, I want the real answer.”

You frown. “That is the real answer—”

“No,” he repeats. “It’s not. And you know it.”

You cross your arms and look down at your shoes. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He wasn’t my type but now he is.”

The argument lulls and the small kitchen falls silent. You hear him sigh and it almost hurts to hear how heavy his disappointment hangs.

But a moment later, he’s slipping his fingers beneath your chin and raising your eyes to his. They’re soft. Serene. Filled with everything he can’t seem to find the words to say and you hate how quickly your body begins to crave him.

“You aren’t being honest with me, baby,” he murmurs. Your lashes flutter. “You aren’t communicating with me. And I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say and he sighs like he knows this is a lie. “Really, I just…I know myself. If I don’t put a bit of distance between us…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe on my own.”

This makes him sad and it hurts you to know you’ve made him sad. “Kitten,” he whispers. He steps closer until his chest is brushing against yours. “If I’m doing something wrong—”

“You’re not. That’s the problem.” You swallow and he brushes his thumb along your jaw. “You’re doing everything right and I’m worried I’m gonna want you in ways that I shouldn’t.”

“Do you not want to want me?”

“Not…like that,” you admit. “Not when you’re still hers.”

He frowns. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about anyone else—”

“But I do. Because at the end of the day, you’re still her Harry. You’re on loan to me until one of you decides you shouldn’t be anymore—”

“Kitten—”

“And I can’t be with you in any way but physically. You said so yourself. More would get complicated and even if you wanted to be with me…I don’t think I could share you.”

 He considers this. A long moment passes. “So you’re punishing me,” he says. “You’re going out with this Ethan guy to prove that you don’t need me.”

“What? No.” You lean back but he doesn’t let go of your chin. “I mean…okay, maybe I wanted to piss you off a little but I really do think I need to be with someone else in order to truly move on. I’m not punishing you. I’m…obeying you. If anything.”

He scoffs. “If you really wanted to obey me, you would have talked to me about what you were feeling.”

“I tried. You said more would get complicated.”

“It could. There’s always that risk. But I never said it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“So…what? You’d date me?”

“Of course.”

The answer is quick and it surprises you but it doesn’t seem to surprise him.

You blink. “You…really? You would date me? Like…officially?”

“I would.”

“And…what about Rebecca?”

“What about her?”

“You’d…you’d still be with her? Right? Even if we were together?”

He seems to know what you’re implying and sighs quietly. “Yes. I would.”

“And even if you weren’t…I’m assuming you would still want to be in an open relationship with me?”

Another pause. “Probably,” he admits, and even if you knew it was coming, you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes. “That’s just the agreement I’ve always felt most comfortable with—”

“And that’s fine. I get it,” you assure him. You sniffle and he seems to wilt. “Really. I just…like I said, I don’t do well with sharing and if…if all we’re doing is fucking, I might as well just find somebody else, right? So that way the three of us can stay friends. And it doesn’t have to get weird.”

“I understand,” he says and you know he does. “I do, Kitten. And I would never keep you in a relationship you’re not comfortable in.” A beat. “But I can’t say that I like the idea of you going out with this guy.”

You smile. Gently. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

He looks down at you and takes your cheek in his hand. “You’re my girl,” he says. “No matter what. If you’re with me or not with me. You’re my fucking girl. And he doesn’t deserve even a second of your time.”

You fight a large grin and cling to his shirt. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because.” You play with his buttons. “You don’t get to be jealous when you’re still with her.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna like seeing you with someone else.”

You pout. “That’s not fair, Harry.”

“I know.” He brings his lips to yours. They hover—close—but never make contact. “I can’t help it. Can’t ever seem to help it when it comes to you.”

You want to push up and take his kiss, but he teases you just a little longer. “Harry—”

“Do you know that, Kitten?” His hands drop to your waist and he squeezes. Even though Rebecca is only two rooms away. Even though you can hear her humming in the bath. Even though he can never be yours. “Do you know how much I think about you?”

You swallow. Thick.

“How I think about the way you asked me to take care of you…” He ghosts his mouth down your neck. “The way you begged me to be rough….to spank you. Choke you. Degrade you.”

His voice is a sin and your eyes fall shut.

“Do you want me to degrade you, baby?” His fingers slip beneath your shirt. “Do you want me to pull you on my lap and spank you until you’re crying?”

The image in your head is somehow even better than his taunting. Your knees about buckle. “Harry…”

“You can find somebody else if you want to,” he whispers. “But do you really think they’ll be able to care of you the way I do? The way you want? The way you deserve?” 

His kisses find your chest while his knee slots between your thighs.

“I know how naughty you really are, baby girl,” he says and it’s over. “He will never know.” 

You grab his hair and he grabs your hips and you’re on the counter before you can even whisper his name. He pushes the hem of your dress up and guides your legs apart. He makes a home there, finger curling around the crotch of your panties in order to get a taste and it’s magic. Always.

And he does this to you only a few hundred feet away from where his girlfriend is innocently taking a shower. He does this, knowing she could walk out and see. He does this and you let him do this because there is no world in which you stop him.

“Harry,” you say—whimper—and he hums. His tongue licks up your cunt and your head drops back. “Har—wait—”

He doesn’t. He holds your thighs beside his cheeks and he sucks on your clit until you begin to squirm. “You promised to stay for dessert,” he says. “This is my dessert.”

The sounds are loud and beautiful and his curls feel good in your hands. You feel good in his.

Things fall to the ground. Bowls, pots, containers. He grins. He likes this, the danger. And he knows you like it, too. Because if you really wanted him to stop, he would. 

But you don’t. And you yank him closer to your pussy as though this will be the last time he ever gets a taste.

And deep down, you wonder if it is.

Either way, you enjoy his tongue and his lips and the tip of his nose that nudges your clit so expertly. You wonder how it’s possible to be so addicted to a man you’re not even with. A man that only recently started fucking you and a man that you’ve only ever considered a friend.

Part of you wants to get caught. Part of you wants things to implode. To believe that he’s doing this because he wants her to find out. Because what would happen if she saw? What would happen if he realized he wanted to end things? Would he be yours? Would he decide that your time and your heart and your pussy were infinitely more important than his sexual prowess?

You scrunch your nose. These are all the wrong questions. Harry doesn’t work like that. He never has and you can’t expect something from him that he won’t ever give you.

You return your focus to him. To the way his large hands are curling around your thighs and hoisting them up on the counter. You love his hands. You think they might be your favorite hands in the world.

They’re so gentle but strong. Practiced. You know they’d look good anywhere on your body. Your thighs, your chest, your throat…

You whimper at the thought and he glances up. He’s proud again. Drenched in your arousal and the evidence of your lust for him.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg and nips. He leaves marks and memories along the soft skin and you can’t wait to stare at them whenever he’s not around. The way he makes you his in the only way he can.

And you’re so close. You aren’t even sure how he got you here so quickly but he always seems to. And you don’t mind. Instead, you fist his hair and you buck against his tongue and he’s going to make you cum all over his girlfriend’s kitchen counter.

And then he stops.

He stops, he lets you go, and he pulls away.

Your heart drops to your toes as the orgasm fizzles down to nothing. “What…what are you—"

“Get down,” he says curtly. He slaps your outer thigh. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going. And you don’t ask. Instead, you watch as he wipes his mouth and disappears from the kitchen to wait by the front door.

After straightening your dress and readjusting your underwear, you scurry to his side with a fretful glance toward the bathroom. “Shouldn’t you tell her you’re going?”

He smiles. “She’ll figure it out.”

With that, you leave their apartment so he can take you back to your place and he keeps his hand on your thigh the whole drive. You wonder if he merely wants to keep some sort of claim on you or if it’s habit. 

Either way, his thumb rubs circles into your skin, right over the dark spots made by his lips and you smile. You want to lace your fingers with his. Want to hold his hand and pretend like the two of you are on your way home from a date. To pretend like this is normal—an everyday occurrence.

But you lose your nerve and soon, he’s pulling into the parking lot.  

“I want you upstairs,” he says and gives you a pointed look. “On the bed. Naked. And waiting for me by the time I come up.”

You nod quickly. “Okay. Are…am I in trouble—”

“That depends on if you obey.” He unlocks the door. “So let’s hope you do.”

Swallowing a giddy grin, you scurry from the vehicle and into your building. You don’t bother with tidying up or adjusting your appearance. You run straight into your bedroom, rip off your clothes, and spread out into a starfish position on the bed.

You hear him follow not much later. Slow, deliberate steps. Meant to taunt you, tease you. Make your stomach flip. And it works.

When you see his tall, muscular figure in the doorway, your pulse skips.

Smiling, you call, “Hi, Sir—”

“No speaking,” he says shortly. “Unless I say otherwise. Is that understood?”

“Yes—no—sorry, I’m…” You stop. Nod. 

He frowns but you know it’s only to hide a smirk. “Don’t test me, Kitten. You’ve already done that enough this evening, have you not?”

Another nod.

“And you knew better, didn’t you?” He walks into the room and begins to unzip his jeans. “Knew better than to dangle fucking Ethan in my face.”

You nod again but your eyes are trained on his hands. On the fingers that pull the hem of his shirt up and over his head.

“And you fucking knew…that if I got a taste of such a sweet pussy…I’d never stop,” he murmurs. He crawls onto the bed, wearing nothing more than his briefs. “That I’d forgive you. And let you off the hook.”

You don’t nod this time. You can’t. You’re too far gone in the lust in his eyes. The gentle green that’s now dangerous and luring you in.

“Well,” he whispers and then he smiles. “You thought wrong.”

He grabs your thighs and flips you over. Before you know it, you’re on your stomach, head spinning, while a large palm comes down in a sharp smack to your ass.

You jolt. Shriek. 

“Easy,” he says and he’s kinder now. “You’re gonna take your punishment like a good little whore, aren’t you?”

Now you understand. You see. And you settle onto the bed as he smooths the stinging print with the soft of his hand. 

You nod.

“Good.” He spanks you again. “I think we should do one for every time you lied to me. For every time I asked for the truth…and you refused to give it to me.”

Your lashes flutter. You suppose that’s only fair, although in your defense, the truth would have only hurt him.

“Let’s see…we’ll start with five,” he says and you exhale a sigh of relief. “Because I know you don’t mean to be a bad girl, do you?”

You whimper.

“You want to be good. Want to behave for me.” He spanks you. Number three. “You want a lot of things from me, don’t you? And maybe I’m bad, too. For not being able to give them to you.”

The air in the room shifts and you attempt to glance back.

However, he lays another firm smack to your ass before you can and then squeezes your hip. “Come on, you’re almost done,” he coos. A beat passes. “Do you remember me mentioning the traffic light system?”

You nod.

“Red for stop, yellow for pause, green for good, keep going?”

Nod.

“Good. Then I want you to use your words and tell me what color you are right now. Honestly.”

“Green,” you whisper, then clear your throat and speak louder. “I’m green. Honestly.”

He hums. “And you’re gonna take your last strike, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you’re gonna thank me for being so generous to such a selfish fucking whore?”

Your cheeks flush. Oh, he’s very good. “Yes, Sir.”

You still can’t see him but you can imagine his grin.

The last spank of his hand lands against your tender skin and somehow…it feels good. There’s something delicious about his pain. About the way he inflicts it. The way your body responds to it.

You groan—moan—and finally manage, “Thank you, Sir.”

He purrs something devious as he strokes the spot and begins to kiss his way up your spine. “Good fucking girl,” he breathes. The exhale of his praise dances across your back and you shiver. “Took your punishment so well. Wasn’t so bad, was it? Bet you even fucking liked, dirty thing. Didn’t you?”

You nod again and feel his knee begin to nudge its way back between your thighs. 

“Let’s check, shall we?” His fingers move now for the mess you already know is there. And when he feels it, he curses. “Fucking shit, Kitten, you’re soaked.”

You are. You are soaked and you’re making a mess of your duvet and his knee and he still hasn’t let you cum yet and you think you might die if he waits any longer. 

“Harry,” you nearly cry. “Please…please…”

He brings his kisses to the back of your neck. To the place below your ear that makes your stomach flip. He kisses. Sucks. Nips and violates the skin with his teeth.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, but only because I know you need it.”

You nod again and begin to turn over. He goes to stop you—he wants to try from behind—but you insist.

“I want to see your face,” you say. “Please, I just…I need that tonight.”

The softness in his eyes and the fall of his expression almost hurts you. You don’t want to cause him pain or confusion. Ever.

But he’s not confused. He understands. And he agrees because maybe he needs it, too.

You pull him out of his briefs and he hikes your leg around his hip. Until the heel of your foot is digging into his ass and pulling him forward.

When he first pushes in, you both take a moment of silence to appreciate the beauty of your bodies connecting.

Harry was once your best friend and now he’s something else entirely. A completely different entity and you never imagined you’d see his cock disappearing into your cunt but now you don’t want to imagine his cock anywhere else.

When he’s about halfway in, he pulls back out and begins a steady pace. He’s large and he knows you need a moment or two to find the pleasure before he picks up a faster rhythm. So, he puts the focus on you. On your clit, on your thighs, on the way his lips feel against yours.

He kisses you—soft, sweet. Gentle. And then he kisses your neck. Your chest. Plays with your tits and whispers about how good they feel in his hand.

Then, he buries himself to the hilt as his hips find yours.

You arch and he catches you. There are more kisses, more soft murmurings. And there’s an intimacy here that doesn’t feel like sex. It feels like making love, a term you once scoffed at but now indulge in. Because maybe he does love you, in the only way he knows how. Maybe he does choose your body over hers. Maybe this was the best thing that ever could have happened to you. 

You grab his hand and bring it to your throat. Pointed enough that he knows what you want and after a quick glance for consent…he squeezes.

Your lashes flutter and you press on his knuckles. Harder. He obeys.

And you were right. His hand does look good on your body. A necklace to wear proudly and he whispers your name before tightening his grip and allowing the sides of your sanity to go fuzzy before loosening his fingers. 

You breathe. Deep. The air tastes like him and you love it.

He smiles. “You okay?”

“More than okay. That was…shit, I really like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Probably cause you’re doing it.”

He uses this hold to kiss you and it’s a mess of tongues and spit and loud sucking. It makes you giggle.

“You’re making this very hard for me,” he suddenly whispers.

“Well, I prefer you hard.”

He smirks, but this is not what he means. “I want this to work.”

“I know. I do, too.”

He surges forward—a sharp thrust. “It can’t work if Ethan’s in the picture.”

Oh. “Why? Because you need room for Rebecca?”

He sighs and you hate how sad it sounds. “I know I’m not being fair—”

“You’re not.”

“I can’t help it—”

“Well, neither can I.”

He stops for a moment and looks at you. “You have every right to go out with him. I know that. But I think I’ll lose my fucking mind if you do.” He continues to roll his body against yours and you want to purr. “So I want to make a deal.”

“Okay…”

“If you go out with Ethan, you go out with me,” he says. “If you date him, you date me. And I’ll play nice. I’ll share. But only until you realize he’s a waste of time.”

You run your fingers along his shoulders. Along his back. Along the curve of his ass. You think about his proposition. It sounds good, it does. A way to keep him while also keeping your options open. 

Because maybe this way, it won’t hurt so much when he still goes home to her.

“Can I think about it?” you ask. 

He kisses you. “Of course. Always.”

You resume the languid but fervent pace he previously set. He squeezes your neck whenever he wants to hear you whimper and you scratch your nails down his spine whenever you want him to groan.

And it’s perfect. Truly. Because while you’re on this date with Ethan, he’ll be able to see the marks Harry left on your throat.

And when Harry goes back to Rebecca, she’ll see the scratches down his back made by your hands.

You can’t help but feel satisfied with the idea and it brings you that much closer as Harry presses your hips to the bed and begins to fuck into you harder.

He readjusts his stance above you, knees deep into the mattress and hands clutching the sheets beside your waist. And every thrust is purposeful. Hard. Beautiful. The sounds are symphonic and when you look down to see, you nearly mewl. The way his cock is absolutely fucking covered in you, slipping in and out of your cunt with ease and determination. 

He’s beautiful when he’s focused. When he’s about to cum. You just want to kiss him and hold him and love him and be his.

And you fucking hate it.

“Need you to cum, baby,” he whispers and you nod in agreement. “Can you do that?”

“Yes….yes, Sir,” you stammer, already feeling the overwhelming power creep up your thighs. “I’m…I—”

“I know. I know, come on—”

You do. Just like that. Unravel like a spool of thread and dissolve into nothing but pleasure beneath him.

But you don’t feel him follow. In fact, he continues fucking you through your high until he suddenly pulls out and comes all over your swollen pussy.

It’s the most mesmerizing thing you think you’ve ever seen. The sticky substance paints your cunt in masterful strokes. Glistening from your body, your clit, your thighs like stars.

And you want to be disappointed that he didn’t finish inside but soon you understand why.

He takes your hand. Moves it closer and presses your fingers into the mess. 

“Touch it,” he whispers. “Fuck it back in.”

Your eyes widen. He smiles but the look in his eye is mischievous and deranged.

“Go on, Kitten,” he says. “I wanna watch.”

Your arms are shaking. In fact, every part of you is still shaking from your orgasm but you obey. You slowly—very slowly—begin to circle your touch around your clit. Feeling the way it nearly throbs as you stimulate it. As you force it into more pleasure.

Harry’s attention is glued to the show before him as he swallows thickly and you swear you can almost see his heart beating against his chest like a cartoon.

You move down. Collect as many drops of him as you can and slowly begin to ease two fingers into your fluttering hole.

When you reach the knuckle, you gasp and he exhales. 

It’s perfect.

He scoots back until he can lay on his stomach and place his cheek against your thigh. Close. Close enough that you can feel his breath fan across your hand.

And he watches. Happy. A lazy smile on those beautiful, pink lips. Lashes fluttering every time you whimper or whine.

“I…I can’t,” you whisper. The sensations are too strong. You’ve already cum once, you can’t possibly cum again so soon.

He hums. “Yes, you can. Let me see, baby. Let me watch.”

And you almost want to be embarrassed but something else seems to take over your mind entirely and you can’t help but go faster.

You pinch and curl and flex. You push his offering as far into you as you can reach and then you push in a little more. And it’s easier this time, even if it almost hurts. But you cum. You do, right in front of his very eyes until he’s quickly grabbing hold of you as though he’s desperate to be closer.

You’re more than a puddle this time. You’re practically limp but you’re also so incredibly happy. And he smiles brightly as he pulls your fingers away and puts them in his mouth.

You don’t even have the energy to make a noise this time. You merely watch him—content—until he starts kissing down your palm, along your arm, and to your chest.

Then, he pulls you into his embrace and you both indulge in a moment of peace. 

You’re both quiet for a while. Even after your heartbeat has steadied. Even after the sweat on your skin has dried and the room no longer feels so warm. 

You run your fingers down his torso. Along the dips and curves of his muscles that seem more defined every time you see him. 

“You’re insufferable,” you finally say and he laughs. The sound bounces between the walls of your room—joyous and unencumbered—and it makes you giddy. He doesn’t laugh like this for her. “What? You are.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Another beat. Longer.

Then, you whisper, “Okay.”

He looks down. “Okay?”

“I’ll agree to your deal.”

“Really?” He’s grinning again. Big.

“Mhm. As long as I get to keep you in some way…maybe it’ll be worth it.”

He seems to sadden at the use of the word maybe, but he brushes it off before you can comment on it. Instead, he pulls you closer and kisses you hard. Forever. 

And maybe…this won’t be so bad.

Previous Part:

~ Insatiable You* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Infinite You Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @buckybarnessimpp @hannah9921

[a-hazbin-reader]

I've seen you mention that alastor would make little deer bleats in a few fics, do you have anything for the reader hearing him bleat for the first time, like reader said something flirty that caught him off guard or while petting his ears, alastor would definitely be the time to be like "what ever are you talking about dear, you're hearing things" and try to change the subject out of embarrassment

- 🐞

I LOVE IT

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Suggestive, Explicit s e x towards the end

Description: ☝️⬆️

Alastor makes deer noises, usually when he's pissed off or exerting some of his power

It's a very emotional and unintentional thing, something he normally can't help or hide

Usually, you can hear buck grunts, warning calls, though elk bugle sounds dominate most of the other noises he makes

You didn't even know he was capable of making softer sounds until you found out by accident

The two of you were alone, sharing a romantic moment with you in his lap and his hands caressing your body

You had pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath when his twitching ears suddenly got your attention

Not that Alastor minded, keeping his mouth busy with your neck and shoulder instead

As if you could ever pass up the opportunity to touch those fluffy ears...

You couldn't help but scratch and rub his furry ears, leaning into kiss one while giving it a playful nip

Only to be surprised by the soft bleat that escapes from Alastor and the way his entire body goes stiff out of embarrassment

"Alastor, did you just-"

"Would you look at the time?! I must go, darling! Things to do, people to see!"

Leaves you on the floor, on your back, and in shock

You try to bring it up to him later but that doesn't work-

"Alastor, about that sound you made..."

"Hm? Oh! I merely had to clear my throat! Not to worry, darling! It won't happen again."

"But I want it to."

👀

It becomes a game between you two, well...more of a game for you, Alastor has never been so nervous in his fucking life

You're on a mission to hear that adorable noise again by any means possible

He's eating breakfast?? You're leaning over him and kissing along his neck while pouring him tea

Which doesn't work, he just tilts his head and gives you a contented growl before continuing with his meal

He's taking a small break? Eyes closed and relaxed? You try going for his ears again, massaging them

That doesn't work either, instead he gives you a warm smile and pulls you down to lay with him

You try flirting with him, maybe you can say something sultry and catch him so off guard he makes that sound again?

Instead, you just get yourself into trouble because instead of something small and subtle you just drop a fucking bomb instead

You corner him and pin him to the wall, mustering up every bit of courage and control to push forward

"Do you believe dreams can come true? Because I dream of you cumming inside me."

WHAT THE FUCK Y/N WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT PICK UP LINE

Angel

Oh that makes sense

It doesn't work, instead Alastor gets a predatory look on his face and he's pulling you closer to him

"Luckily for you, my dear~ I happen to have a soft spot for dreamers such as yourself~"

Oh fuck

It actually does end up working in your favor, just not the way you thought it would

You don't even remember how you end up naked on your back, legs spread to accommodate Alastor between them

Both of you are close, having been at it for hours at this point, desperate ragged sounds coming from the two of you

Your nails are digging into his back, no doubt leaving nasty marks that he'll later tease you for

He has one clawed hand on your hip while the other grips and makes deep grooves into the headboard

You're nearly out of it, mind fizzy and hot with the feeling of being so full of Alastor's cock that you almost miss your chance

You know exactly how to get that sound out of him

Suddenly, your legs lock around him and you're tugging him down to you to give him a desperate steamy kiss

He's caught off guard and startled but eagerly reciprocates your actions, chasing a building orgasm between you both

He pulls away to growl and pant, head rolling back as his thrusts become sharp and erratic

You tug him back to you by his hair and suddenly give him a watery smile, barely able to hold on because you're so close

"A-Alastor...haa...I love you...~"

And that's what does it, his eyes widen in surprise as he suddenly releases inside you, letting out a pathetic sounding bleat

He's so mortified afterwards, burying his face in your chest as you comb your fingers through his hair. Both of you shuddering and trying to catch your breaths

"You...you are an evil evil person..."

You can't help but laugh and kiss his head, scratching around his antlers affectionately

"I love you too, Alastor~ Every part of you~"

This one got away from me...it's probably not what you asked for but... I hope you like it!!

[kneazle]

Sal stood outside of the hospital room, placing his body directly in front of the closed door blocking anyone from entering. As he saw them coming down the hall with Buckley in the lead he placed his feet steady on the floor, crossed his arms over his chest, and straightened himself to his full height.

They stopped short at the sight of him.

"Sal?" Chimney blinked in shock, glancing at Hen and Nash so quick he might have missed it if his gaze wasn't so focused on them all.

He narrowed his eyes. "Nice to see you too, Chimney."

"I just- don't you live on the other side of the country now?"

"I moved back recently," Sal said, not saying anything further on the matter. None of them needed to know about his wife passing, of moving back to LA with his daughter to escape all the memories that were becoming suffocating. "What are all of you doing here?" He said, eyeing them.

Buckley who looked fit to burst, stepped forward. "How- how is he?" He asked, eyes darting from the door and back to Sal, fingers fidgeting.

"Lucky," Sal said, jaw clenched. "He broke his arm, some ribs, they had to fix some internal bleeding, and he has some nasty bruises."

He seemed to deflate at Sal's words, the only person he didn't know reached over to take hold of Buckley's arm. "What I don't get is why any of you are here."

Buckley flinched back at the words and the man he didn't know narrowed his gaze at Sal before speaking. "We're here to see Tommy."

"Really? Wouldn't have known," He said sarcastically. "What I mean is, none of you have been there for him in the last three months. I get it, Buckley is your boy and Chimney in your case family- but Tommy was your friend long before he came into your life, but what does that matter huh?"

He watched all of them shift, guilt crossing most of their faces as Nash only frowned. Sal told himself he would keep control, but anger rose in his chest the more he stood in front of them, remembering the way Tommy mourned more than just the loss of his boyfriend because of his choice. "Tommy made a mistake and was an idiot don't get me wrong, but all of you were real quick to drop him and he might not have a whole posse behind him like Buckley obviously does, but he has me now, and as far as I'm concerned none of you deserve to step foot in this room."

"Deluca-"

"No," Sal interrupted, jaw clenched. "You aren't changing my mind, Captain Nash."

"Please!" Buckley burst out, a look of panic setting over his face. "I- I promise I won't yell or upset him, I just need to see him with my own eyes."

Sal felt bad for the kid, he did, it wasn't his fault Tommy had been broken too many times and got scared. He opened his mouth to tell him no, when a voice coming from the other side of the hall spoke first. "Sal, let Buck in at least," Lucy stepped near him, handing him a coffee. "You know Tommy wouldn't be happy if he found out you prevented Buck from seeing him," He huffed, taking a long sip from the cup, purposely stretching his response out. Lucy sighed in annoyance. "Look, do I support Tommy's choice? No, but the only person going in that room is Buck. The rest of you? A simple text asking someone how they are, takes two damn seconds. You didn't have to be buddies anymore, not if you didn't want to, but fuck would it have hurt to show some compassion for a man who you claimed was a friend only a day before?"

Silence settled over them all. Sal lifted his cup, hiding his smirk behind it at the rage seeping into Lucy's voice.

"We didn't mean to-" The one Sal didn't know the name of began to speak. Diaz, he thinks, trying to recall from Tommy's stories.

"Sure you didn't," Lucy spoke over him, a snap to the words. "Buck, you can go in."

Sal sighed but moved away from the door. Buckley nodded his thanks, head hung low as he moved, multiple emotions filtering across his face. He stopped when stepping beside Sal, turning to face him and Lucy with watery eyes. "Thank you you two...for being there for him." He ducked into the room and shut the door behind him.

Okay, maybe he wouldn't mind if Buckley stuck around. It was clear he still cared about Tommy, and that was enough for Sal.

Hours later after he knew they talked, Sal leaned against the doorway. Buckley sat in the chair as close to the bed as possible with his head laying on it sleeping with Tommy, hands held tight with their fingers laced together, both of their faces looked completely relaxed as tense and sadness turned to healing.

Sal nodded to himself and turned away, closing the door behind him.

"He's going to be okay," Lucy told him, moving away from leaning against the wall. "They aren't letting each other go again."

"I damn well hope not," Sal grumbled.

She chuckled, and swung her arm around his shoulders, leading him away. "Let's go get some breakfast from the diner for dinner."

"You're fucking weird," Sal told her with a scoff.

Lucy grinned, not offended in the least. "You said the same thing about Tommy but you love us. Now come on big guy, you're paying!" She moved away from him quickly with a laugh.

Sal gaped before taking off after her. "Like hell I am!"

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | Rafe Cameron | 01

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

Who knew Rafe Cameron is a blabbering drunk?

Working as a bartender on the docks, near Heyward's Seafood, you have your fair share of stories about the people who come in. Most of them are locals from The Cut, with the occasional tourists who wander the streets, settling for a clean place to eat.

But it's very rare to have a Kook.

It's been a visit for the past couple of weeks. You don't understand what caused him to come here. There's plenty of bars near Figure Eight—some of which you are sure caters specifically to the Camerons—but you don't question it. Lately, business has been slow, a couple of locals in and out, and with the majority of your income relying on tips, you take it.

Locals don't tip.

Rafe does, however. When he settled down and ordered the largest and most expensive liquor you had on hand, he slipped a fifty into your hands and asked for the bottle as a whole. You don't know if he doesn't have prior tipping etiquette—or because he tips extra for you to keep quiet about his presence—but you gladly take it. Sitting at the end of the counter, his hand cradles a half-empty glass he sips from.

Despite having the whole bottle set in front of him, he still makes you serve him.

Why?

Because he's an asshole.

"You know what he wants to do?" Rafe slurs from across the counter, his eyes flickering to find your presence behind the bar. "He wants to give the company to Sarah."

You hum in response, drying the washed glasses in your hands with a towel as you listen to his nondescript rambles. You knew most of the people he's referring to Sarah Cameron, Ward, and the occasional Pogue you don't know the name of. But, that's how Rafe sees the world: his family, the Kooks, and then everyone else.

"She's nineteen and going around OBX with her fucking Pogue boyfriend and he sees her as stable?" Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he brings the edge of the glass to his lips and takes a long sip. "Fucking bitch."

Listening to drunk customers vent about their home lives is part of the job description. While it’s dark outside and Rafe is the only customer left, you are technically free to kick him out and make him go about his day elsewhere.

But, there's a rule in your family regarding business: don't go home until the last customer leaves. There's no such thing as kicking someone out at closing time; you were there to wait, serve, and hope they spend a couple more bucks on some more booze. It's a cheapshot of handling enterprise, but that's the way you need to do business and survive as a Pogue.

Rafe taps his empty cup in his hand, eyes pinned on you. "Refill," he mumbles, to which you resist the urge to roll your eyes, and walk over to do exactly as he asks. Lifting the bottle set in front of him to pour him another shot, he watches you as you watch.

"You think it's stupid, right?" He asks, his gaze lifting to study your face. "He thinks Sarah is more equipped to handle Cameron Development because of that Pogue. Because he ties her down. Is that some bullshit?"

His gaze is intense and you don't know whether to answer or not. While you don't know much of the story, of the background behind his persistent rambles, you pieced together enough that it's about Ward deciding to give Sarah the family company because of her stability as a person. Because she's reliable.

You shrug, "I don't know." Because you don't. You don't want to get involved in whatever problems Rafe is dealing with. You don't want to offer unsolicited opinions because who knows if it'll come back to bite you in the ass.

He scoffs, then releases a bitter laugh. "Of course you don't," he leans back against his seat, almost swaying against the backless stool, before shaking his head, disciplining himself. "You're a Pogue. I must be losing it if I'm talking to you."

You roll your eyes, turning away from the Kook and settling on the rest of your tasks. You're used to Kooks putting you down like that, seeing you as nothing more than the bottom of the chain because you don't have some fancy degree from UNC or because you aren't floating on a yacht somewhere.

Just as you're returning bottles back on the shelf, you hear Rafe mumbles to himself. "Does he want me to be tied down or something?"

You let out an abrupt laugh, before quickly stiffening the sound. However, it was too late. When you look back over, you see his blue eyes set on you, a hard expression on his face. "Sorry," you mumble, wishing you had better control over your tongue. "I thought I heard something funny."

You wished you could blame it on the TV, but unfortunately, you had turned that off a while ago.

"You laughing at me, sweetheart?"

"No," you clear your throat, but the look on Rafe's face makes it seem like he's in no mood to hear lies right now. You rectify the answer. "Yes."

"What's so funny?"

"The idea of you getting tied down," you answer slowly. You carefully study his expression to see if anything you say could trigger a bad reaction. "It just seems amusing to me."

Because it is. Rafe is known around Outer Banks as the reckless prince, the one who hosts parties, gets shit-faced drunk, and hooks up with every woman within his proximity. The idea of him losing all of that—the parties, the drinking, the women—was not something you could picture in your head.

"What about it?" He challenges, an edge to his tone. "You think I can't fucking do it?"

From your experience as a bartender, you know he's coming close to unraveling. What you say next could cause him to erupt or calm down, and while you would love to sell him some lies, to get him to back down and leave, something in you doesn't let it pass. All night, he's been nothing short of an asshole to you. To act like he's above you because you are nothing but a Pogue meant to serve him. Why would you pass up an opportunity to deliver some harsh reality?

"Look at yourself," you gesture to him, "you're here, drinking at my bar after an argument with your father. He's trying to tell you that you aren't dependable enough to rely on and the first thing you do is turn to your vices. What do you think?"

Even if you intended it to be harsh, you said it nicely.

He stares at you, hard. You don't like it. You heard the rumors of what happens when he gets pissed—where he throws chairs and smashed bottles. You don't want to be a recipient of that.

"Never mind," you shake your head, returning back to your task. "Just forget it. I'm misreading the situation."

"No," he says with a shake of his head. "You said it. Might as well own it with your chest. Dancing around it wouldn't make you anymore likable."

You clench your jaw. On top of being a blabbering drunk, Rafe is cruel.

Not answering him, you walk over to where he sits and take the glass from his hand, right as he's about to take another sip.

"What the fuck?"

"I think it's time for you to leave."

He scoffs, not moving from his position. "Just because I said I didn't like you?"

"No, because you're acting like an asshole and frankly, I don't want to put up with it anymore," you say, pouring the rest of the content down the sink. "You can take the bottle with you. But other than that, you need to leave."

Rafe stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating what to do, but he doesn't have any grounds here. He may be a Kook, but that means shit when he's in the south side of Outer Banks. When his opponent is a bartender. Instead of responding to you, he slides off the stool and grabs the booze by the handle.

Just as he's about to set out of the door, you shout behind him with a mock farewell, "'pleasure doing business with you!"

—

That day, you thought would be the last of your interactions with Rafe. After all, most people don't want to continue doing business with someone who calls them out on their bullshit and kicks them out of their shops.

But, a couple of days later, Rafe comes through the door of your family-owned pub.

You paid little attention to him. You were trying to log the tips into the cash register, not catering to some entitled prick who has no means being here. Plus, there's another bartender on hand who's more than willing to help Rafe with anything he needs.

You didn't care.

Your coworker can get his tips.

As you're filing in the last of the receipts, Miranda comes over to tap you on the shoulders.

"Rafe wants to talk to you."

You stare at her for a few seconds, as if she was speaking another language. You thought she did. Why in the world would he want to talk to you? You were unpleasant to him. You were nothing of the customer service attitude your parents drilled into you as a child. You thought it was clear grounds for him to look the other direction.

"I'm busy," you say to Miranda, who shifts uncomfortably in her stance, not leaving.

"He said he's willing to wait."

That means he was expecting you to say no.

You scoff. "Tell him I'm not going to be free until closing time."

"But..." Miranda starts again, and you are starting to lose your patience with her. "We don't have a closing time."

You smile at that. "Exactly."

Despite the harsh undertone, Miranda still relays the message back to Rafe. You watch as she does, his eyes briefly pans over to you as you offer him a forced smile with a wave of your fingers and his jaw visibly tense. You thought that would be the end of the conversation but, to be proven wrong again, he slides into the bar stool he previously occupied the other night and orders a drink.

Then another.

You did your best to avoid the area he occupied, but it was proven to be difficult as he spent his time right in front of you. You got busy, running around and assisting locals and tourists who came in to get a taste of the infamous and historical Sailor of Outer Banks. While you're running around, placing orders, making drinks, and trying to navigate the cramped space behind the bar—Rafe remains.

He remained until he was the very last customer.

You sigh as you glance at the clock. Miranda has since left and you're left carrying the shop ever since. All you want to do is go home and relax, but that will be proven impossible until Rafe leaves the establishment.

With a strong reluctance, you step forward to where Rafe sat, his eyes on the TV screen hung on the wall, while his hands occupied another glass.

"Fine," you sigh, causing Rafe to tear away from the screen. The corner of his lips lift into a self-satisfying smirk. "I'm here."

"You finally ready to talk to me?"

"You ready to stop being such a prick?" You quip back, just to see his expression broadens at your snark. You can't lie and say the movement didn't make him more attractive. "What do you want?"

For a moment, you thought he might be here to apologize for asking like an ass the other night.

But, you were too hopeful.

"I came up with a solution," he begins, his words a subtle slur that contrasts the intoxication of the other night.

"For what?" You entertain the conversation, crossing your arms over your chest.

"My dad." He answers. "He wants me to be stable."

"I remember."

"And from when he was talking about Sarah, one of the reasons he thinks he can rely on her is because she's with that Pogue." He explains, "that it somehow makes her dependable. I don't fucking know, the logic is flawed."

"And old-fashioned, but continue."

His blue eyes dart to your face, before he utters the next words. "That means I need a girlfriend."

You nod, glad to see that he came to his conclusion. You thought this was another one of his ramblings, a need to vent to someone he doesn't think matters in the long-run, just to get it off his chest. Now that it is, you're about to step back and turn around to start your night tasks before he holds out a hand.

"Wait," he commands, causing you to stop on your tracks. You raise a brow at him. "I want you to be my girlfriend."

You laugh. It truly is a bad habit of yours but the idea came out as total lunacy and shock. You thought he would join. But, when you look back to his face and have the striking realization that he is serious, you start to sober up. "You're serious."

"Yeah," he says, clenching his jaw, like the moment of wonderful ideas was truly something he was proud of and you struck it down like lightning.

"I'm sorry but," you shake your head, not having the ability to wrap your head around the suggestion. "You barely know me. Isn't there a line of other people who would love to become the next Mrs. Cameron?"

You know that's true. You also know if he had told Miranda this, she would've jumped to the idea before he concluded his brilliant plan. So, you can't, for the life of you, figure out why he's choosing you out of everyone else.

"Yes, but I don't want them." He answers with a shake of his head, leaning closer to the counter. You don't know why but something about that makes your chest warm. "I don't want a real girlfriend. I just need you to pretend to be."

Just like that, the feeling in your stomach dies.

"Pretend?" You repeat.

"Yes," he nods. "It's just like you said. I still have my vices. I don't want to give them up. I just want my dad to think I did."

"I still don't understand how this has anything to do with me," you furrow your brows together.

He sighs, out of frustration or impatience, you don't know. But, he goes to explain, "my dad once told me that John B was a reliable person. That he was a Pogue who was hard-working and determined. That's why he likes him for Sarah—because he hopes it would rub off on her too."

You nod slowly, connecting the dots as he continues. "You're a Pogue," he says with a huff, the title left his tongue with an ounce of disgust you were ready to throw him out of the bar again. "He likes to go on his good samaritan bullshit and employs people from The Cut for certain events. You were one of them."

It takes a second to remember what he was talking about. He's right. A couple of years ago, when you were eighteen, you got a catering job from the Camerons for some big business event. It was the most you made in your lifetime, from all the tips and drunk Kooks who wanted to give back to the poor.

But, he never employed you again.

"Do you see where I'm going now?"

You do, but you hate the attitude he's giving you. Like you were a Pogue who couldn't string together simple facts. Like you should've known what he's talking about.

"I do, but why the fuck you acting like I would've known the whole thing with John B?" You snap, and this surprises him for a moment. Taking a breath to cool the anger in your chest, you calm. "This doesn't explain why it has to be me."

His next statement comes off more nice. "My dad wants someone like that. I doubt he would approve of anyone else, and plus, I don't have to worry about you wanting something more. You clearly despise me."

That isn't true, but you do understand where he's coming from.

"So, let me get this straight." You start. "I'm basically an arm candy for you to parade around in front of your father while the rest of the time, you are free to drink and fuck whoever you want."

"I'm glad that Pogue brain of yours is catching up."

You glare at him, but say nothing else. Picking up the dirty rag off the counter, where you were planning on using to clean, you turn back to Rafe, "as much as I would love to play house with you, I don't have time. Unlike you, I have bills to pay and a job to do."

You turn your back to him but he stops you.

"I'll pay you."

You scoff. "It's not that," you say, because truly, it isn't. A few short-term payments for a couple of missed shifts isn't going to help you in the long-run. You're trying to revive Sailor, to make it a place where it can stand on its own. What is a couple of bucks going to do for that? "I'm sorry, but I don't have the time for it. You're going to have to find someone else."

"I don't want someone else."

He looks at you desperate, as if you would give in, and for a moment, you might. Perhaps it's because you're so used to helping others, or because you were raised to cater to people—to people like him—that your stomach cower at the thought of saying no. But, you have to stand firm on this. You don't have time to go out and party, much less spend your free-time parading around in his arms as some sort of trophy.

You were serious.

"I'm sorry, I truly am."

Your voice is filled with sympathy, and it softens him for a moment. But, that quickly passes as Rafe Cameron has to recoil with the idea that he didn't get what he wanted. Probably for the first time in his life.

With an annoyed huff, he slams the cash for the drinks he's been nursing and leaves.

You thought it would be the end of it.

Not knowing, by the end of this week, you will be known as Rafe's girlfriend.

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Navigation — Part 02

[peppermintquartz]

Canon divergence in that Buck does call Tommy the next time he's free, asking to go up in a chopper (instead of the harebrained scheme of going to the BBPU game)

+-

"And that's my favorite view," says Tommy, angling the helicopter to face the Pacific. It's late in the morning so sunlight glitters on the water like diamonds scattered on blue silk.

Buck shields his eyes with his hands. "It's beautiful!" he exclaims, almost giddy with delight at the panorama.

"It is. And at night, I like to look the other way, at the city spread out before me." Tommy's aviator sunglasses hide his eyes but his big smile is on full display.

Buck can't help the shiver in his belly every time he looks at Tommy. It's clear the air is his element. Already Buck knows that Tommy is very competent - they wouldn't have pulled off the rescue otherwise - but here, without anything to distract them, Buck sees how the chopper is an extension of Tommy himself. A deft touch, a slight adjustment, and the vehicle moves smoothly for Tommy to point out different landmarks from the sky.

By the time they land, Buck's spirits are still soaring. He's spent forty minutes flying with Tommy, who not only talked about the mechanics of flying, but also answered almost all of Buck's questions without ever sounding bored. In fact, he seems happy that Buck has done some research before he came for the ride.

"Okay, now I really need to buy you that beer, and also a meal." Buck wants to bounce on his heels. He feels lighter than air, like he's just a balloon full of happy emotions.

Tommy grins, shrugging as he tucks his aviators into a pocket. "I'm free for the rest of the day," he says. Ducking his head, he adds, "Didn't feel too good leaving you alone the other day to go watch the fight, but I didn't think we'd take two hours to tour Harbor Station either."

Buck's cheeks flush. He remembers being irrationally angry when Eddie and Tommy flew off, and he did go home to pummel his pillow a little before sulking. But he's done the mature thing, which is ask Tommy for a flight demo, instead of something insane like figure out what other activities he would be doing or events he would attend and try to show up there like a toy surprise.

"Well, that was because I wanted to find out so much, and it's really your fault, because you answered everything in detail." Buck falls in step with the older man as they head to Tommy's car. "You have to be accountable for your mistakes."

Tommy laughs. Buck feels tingly and proud that he's made that happen. Daringly, he nudges Tommy's elbow with his.

"So, what would you like for lunch?" Buck asks. "My treat, as thanks for the flight."

"Sure," says Tommy with an easy smile. As they approach the car, Tommy halts.

Buck stops as well, a little concerned. "Everything okay?"

Tilting his head, Tommy studies Buck, and then his expression grows a little more nervous and serious. "I... I don't wanna presume anything, and I want you to know that, regardless of anything I'm about to say, I wanna be your friend."

Buck blinks at the older man. "Okay, um. What's this about?"

"Evan, before we go to lunch, I kinda wanna know what's going on here? I mean..." Tommy licks his lips, and Buck's gaze snaps to Tommy's mouth. "You're adorable and you're funny and, well. You're a gorgeous guy. I'm not... I'm not really sure why you wanna spend time with me. And I don't wanna get my hopes up if this is just me reading the signs wrongly."

"Uh, signs?"

Tommy's face falls. He glances away, wiping his hand over his mouth, and licks his lips again. "Shit. I've read you wrong."

Buck reaches out to touch Tommy's wrist. "Tommy, I'm not sure what you're saying."

Tommy looks back at Buck, blue eyes taking in the younger man's expression, and sighs. He flips his hand over to hold the tips of Buck's fingers.

"Hell. Might as well lay my cards out," he mutters, mostly to himself, and then looks - really looks - at Buck. "Evan, I'm gay. And these couple times we've met up, I really, really like how we click. I like your energy, and how earnest and open you are. And it doesn't hurt that you are one of the most attractive men I've ever met, and I really like spending time with you, and I'm hoping... I'm hoping I can ask you out for a date and maybe we can... find out if we could. If we could be more than friends."

There's an anxious cast to his features. Buck can see Tommy's jaw clench and the nervous swallow, and a part of Buck's mind is screaming static. Another part of him is frantically stammering, "I'm just an ally!!" But thankfully that part of him has no control of his mouth, because he instead steps closer to Tommy and-

Oh. Oh.

So that's how it feels to kiss a guy.

He pulls back slightly, but is stopped by the touch of fingers under his chin, and Tommy draws him back for a second kiss, his head angled, and-

Wow. Wow, okay. They're near the airfield in the parking lot and the breeze is cool and the sun is shining nice and warm and they are kissing, Buck is kissing Tommy and this feels right.

When they finally separate, possibly two centuries later, Buck blinks at Tommy. His face feels hot and his skin is tingling. With a small, happy grin, he says, "I would say yes to the date, if that helps."

Tommy chuckles. He licks his lips again and Buck forces himself to look away from those lips. "Okay. I'd like to ask you out on a date on Saturday night, if you're free."

"I... I'm free." Buck's grin grows brighter. He tilts his head. "Lunch, now?"

[nqueso-emergency]

I need the bestie boos to fucking THINK.

This shit started in season 7 when death threats were sent to Tim. Over a certain scene. Then, Lou gets treated like shit, you guys made JLH get emotional on an Instagram live because you yelled at her AFTER she said, "I really don't think the Buck and Eddie thing is going to happen guys. I think we need to let it go."

In a live with Kenny, he said "Eddie and Buck? Looks like it's not going to happen, looks like it's the Tommy/Buck show, don't you think?"

Lou's sister got harassed, Tim's messages got shared in a gotcha, everyone wants to bring up Lou's past Instagram posts or Ryan's past lives, three internet trolls have to constantly tag cast and crew in every damn "horrible" thing someone does that goes against Buddie, some sick fuck wrote csa fics and purposely tagged them wrong just so they could traumatize others.

You use slurs, you harass anyone connected to the show, everything is a damn joke to you.

You get a picture of Aisha, Oliver and Ryan. And what do you do? You gloat. You make fun of people who like Tommy with Buck and call the actor jobless.

And then last night, Oliver shares a picture from his trailer and you unhinged freaks bitched and moaned and threatened violence in not one, not three, but SIX DIFFERENT INBOXES.

Oliver. Lou. Tim. 911 insta. Ryan. ABC.

And in a move so vengeful one of you crossed the line and now we're here.

So please tell me how it makes no sense to protect the talent, to phase out buddie propaganda, to show that mustache 50 times a week and to delete hateful comments.

You've made your fanon bed, now lie down, shut tf up, and suffer the consequences.

[lazyturtlehottub]

A breakdown of the Fangirlish interview: an exercise in media literacy

Given that the reaction to Buck and Tommy breaking up has been exacerbated by those interviews, I thought I would look into the one from Fangirlish in order to look at it with my media literacy hat on and see what was actually said. So, here’s a link to a version that doesn’t give the writer clicks because you should make up your own mind before providing revenue to the platform https://archive.ph/fqhlE

We start off with the headline: Lou Ferrigno Jr. on Saying Goodbye to 9-1-1, That Breakup and What’s Next

Right away, as the reader, we’re immediately told that LFJ is saying goodbye to 9-1-1, the implication being that this is the end of the road, no going back. This is, I will say, a choice that the writer made when they created the article: they decide on the headline, no one else. Going in, our mind has already been positioned to believe that this is an exit interview and to understand everything that comes next through that lens.

Supporting this path is this: “Lou Ferrigno Jr.’s time on 9-1-1 has come to an end[...]” but it’s important to note that no one has said this but the author of the article. At no point does she provide a statement from ABC, Tim Minnear, or LFJ to back this statement up.

Another unsubstantiated statement she makes is: “For Ferrigno Jr. it wasn’t exactly the way he envisioned the end of his time on the show [...]” Yet again, at no point in what she quotes from Lou does he say this at all. This is her take on the conversation and she has provided not a scintilla of evidence to support this statement. What she does provide is the following quote from LFJ:

“With the way things were going, and the connection that they had, I was under the impression that it was working, and they were connected,” he shared.

Putting this in the context of the interview, it does make it sound like Lou was blindsided by the break up, which is a very normal thing considering that we all know the actors barely know what’s happening even when they have the script. It’s not surprising that Lou didn’t know about the break-up since even Oliver Stark mentions that he didn’t know about it until they began filming, even though the possibility had been floated some episodes earlier.

So while this quote in the context the writer’s given does seem pretty final, if we remove the exit interview lens from it, it just reads as an actor expressing his surprise at the path his character is going.

Continuing on, the writer then writes the following: Ferrigno Jr. admits he had issues with this ending [...]

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, she doesn’t provide a quote to back this up. What she does right is frame the next quote as [...] but trying to get into the mindset of Tommy [...], which changes the context of the quote that Lou gives.

“If preserving his emotional health and saving himself is the only means to survive, then you can’t shame him for it.” He went on to add, “I honestly don’t believe that the relationship matured well enough that they should have made any type of long-term decision.”

So she makes a statement that says LFJ has issues with the ending and then immediately moves on to talk about the acting choices Lou had to go through in order to understand where Tommy was during the scene.

Perhaps the most direct quote from Lou about the relationship that sounds troubling with regards for the future of Buck and Tommy is this: “I just would have hoped that it would have lasted a little bit more,” he also told us, adding that in the hour we also have Buck “looking at those girls, and that sucks for Tommy, and it sucks for any person that’s looking at their partner looking at someone else.”

Taking this with the fact that this has been positioned as an exit interview, I agree that it does sound damning, but if you remove that filter from it then I believe it reads as an actor expressing mild regret that he didn’t get to play this stage of the character and this relationship more. However, I will admit, that this is open for interpretation given that we don’t know where this came in the interview since we don’t know what prompted this answer.

And for Ferrigno Jr., he admits he knew the two were done for good when he realized his character would call Buck “Buck.” I feel I’m a looping record but where in the interview does he say that? He doesn’t say that at all in the quote that she provides below.

She writes: Instead, Ferrigno Jr. told us that Tommy “only knows the man in front of him, Evan. And I knew it was going to come [the moment he called him Buck] because he’s always saying Evan all the time. I’m looking at a character that I’m playing, and he’s just like Evan, Evan, Evan, and in that line, I was just like… I knew this was going to happen.”

“And he doesn’t have to say that. He still can say Evan. But that is essentially signalling that this is all I know how to do, and it’s too much.”

Linked with what LFJ said earlier about Tommy protecting himself, this quote from him makes sense in the fact that Tommy called him Buck to protect himself from the hurt, to try and create some walls between them. But the writer has made this sweeping statement that he knew it was the end, implying that the relationship is at a permanent end when nothing LFJ has said supports that.

And then we move onto the bit that really highlights the bias that this article has been written around. The writer asks Lou: Could the show have been using Tommy as a roadblock to a possible Buck and Eddie relationship?

Getting into the professionalism of this question is for another time but I’ve added it here so you can see the fact that this is someone who is focused on the Buddie of it all. Evidence that supports this is in the author’s various tweets and the coverage of 9-1-1 on their website.

And I know we’re all worried about LFJ’s scheduling conflicts but I will posit that it was a standard answer from an actor who is just doing his job. In his words: “I would absolutely love to come back, but I do need to continue on my journey here. I have a number of things now that are going on that may or may not happen, and I hope that there’s no conflict if it were to be the case.”

Basically, this article is written from the point of view of it being an exit interview but at no point is evidence provided from official sources to support that statement. Throughout it all, Lou’s answers are framed within the narrative that the break-up is permanent and that he’s gone from the show for good.

I hope that this has been interesting and informative for those of you who have read it, and I hope it serves as a reminder that media literacy is for everyone, not just for an attack from those on social media against fans being publicly disappointed that a queer relationship has broken up, temporarily or otherwise.

[emilybeemartin]

A whopping, like, 2.6 people have expressed interest in my recent adventures in watching Bean films, which is all the encouragement I need to present to you:

An Incomplete Guide to Sean Bean Roles (Investigation Ongoing)

Our guy has a vast filmography, and I'm not even close to being halfway through it, but I've watched a lot of his significant ones in the past few weeks thanks to a perfect storm of illness, injury, and lapses in client work. Crucially, I have created superlatives for a variety of them and present them here for your benefit. Disclaimer: many of these films are violent! Or have butts and/or tits! Some have dick! Some have dated bits that didn't age well! So, if you have triggers or are watching with young viewers, do your research first! Also, these are just the opinions of one solitary millennial! Nothing is objective! Nothing is real! I care not!

Okay, CYA done, let's begin. I'll get the two most obvious ones out of the way up front, otherwise they'll dominate half the categories:

ACT I

Greatest Bean: Fellowship of the Ring. I've said it before and I'll say it again, he achieved more pathos with Boromir than a lot of his other roles have allowed for, and every note he hits just sings. No debate.

Best Bean for Your Buck: Sharpe. For the best confluence of quantity, quality, physicality, emotion, humor, and action, you can't beat Richard Sharpe.

Favorite Dramatic Bean: Time; he earned that BAFTA fr

Softest Bean: The first date scene in Stormy Monday, where Brendan shyly gets to know Kate, slow dances with her, lends her a shirt and strokes her back after she asks if they can just go to sleep instead of have sex.

Most Dashing Bean: Vronsky in Anna Karenina, that uniform cuts, damn

Swooniest Bean: I know I'm supposed to say Chatterley, and he is undeniably sexy as Mellors, but there are parts where his character is actually kind of off-putting. I'll lay a good chunk of the blame on the weirdly ominous score, the very of-the-time depiction of dubious consent, and Joely Richardson's tendency to look like she's having the worst time of her life while shagging the hot gamekeeper. No, I'm giving this category to Stormy Monday again. He's just so gentle and genuine in this one, without some of the obligatory "heartthrob" overtones of his nineties stuff. He never raises his voice at Kate or manhandles her. He really does feel like some kid who just wants to be sweet to his girlfriend.

Laddiest Bean: When Saturday Comes, specifically the strip club and bathtub scenes.

Favorite Sad Bean: As a collective, he has some great grief scenes in World on Fire, but! The railroad track scene in When Saturday Comes?! That was RAW.

Favorite Mad Bean: Black Death; there are plenty of movies where he doesn't smile at all, but unlike some others, his grimness and anger felt proportionate to the story, rather than just rage because he's good at rage.

Favorite Bad Bean: There are so many great Bean villains (Goldeneye, obvs), but I think my favorite is Patriot Games. Bonus points for all the different hairstyles he has in this film (long locks-shag-shag ponytail!-buzz-wet spiky buzz). Also HUGH FRASER AAAA

Favorite Dad Bean: Wolfwalkers, where Bill Goodfellowe literally turns his own convictions and beliefs upside-down in order to protect and support his daughter.

INTERMISSION

A note on GoT: I haven't watched it. When season one was first coming out, it was during a time where I really couldn't handle watching any kind of sexual assault onscreen, and while I have a higher tolerance now, I just... don't want to. I like seeing gifs of Ned Stark and appreciate that it's one of his great roles, but I just can't make myself take the plunge.

ilysm you grizzled dead wolf man

ACT II

Favorite Costumed Bean: Odysseus in Troy: curls, leather, thighs.

Favorite Un-Costumed Bean: He strips in quite a lot of his films, so let's give it to Lady Chatterley for sheer screentime, exertion, and the bonus of being naked and wearing a flower crown. Honorable mention to When Saturday Comes for the totally not homoerotic amount of butts and also dick in the locker room bathtub scene.

Hurtin'est Bean: Bravo Two Zero. Oof, don't watch this one if you have an aversion to seeing pain, although---you're a Sean Bean fan, and we all know one of his MOs is being GREAT at pain. This one was directed by Tom Clegg, who directed Sharpe. Also lol at the sickle-shaped wound on his shoulder, which is covering his 100% Blade tattoo (he gets a lot of sickle-shaped wounds on his left shoulder).

Best Inside References: The Frankenstein Chronicles, where he plays a former Peninsular soldier, and every reference to his service is a reference to Sharpe, including shots of his greenjacket, pistol, sword, and flogging scars. Honorable mention to The Martian for the Council of Elrond line.

Most Unsettling Bean: Cleanskin for moral grayness, The Frankenstein Chronicles for body horror

Most Inefficient Use of Bean: Black Beauty. Despite getting high billing he's only onscreen for about two minutes and I'm convinced the long shots are a body double. Criminal.

Biggest Missed Opportunity: We were robbed of a Sean Bean Odyssey. R o b b e d

Funniest Bean: Deploying Bean for comedy is woefully underused, but he made full use of his ~15 seconds in The Vicar of Dibley ("Spring" episode). He's also hilarious in Wasted, though I haven't watched the show, only the clips he's in on YouTube, where he plays a mock version of himself serving as a spirit guide for a stoner. IMO, though, Sharpe gives him the most room for humor.

Favorite Character Quirk: In World on Fire, when Douglas is having WWI flashbacks and really coming apart, he kept putting his hand to his mouth. My modern brain first read this as talking into a phantom radio, but of course that wasn't right, and then I realized--he was reaching for a phantom gas mask. CHILLS. AMAZING. (Honorable mentions to the Mouth Rub and the Tongue Thing [pictured above]).

Most Nostalgic Bean: National Treasure. The concept may be utter silliness, but you have to admit, this is a fun movie to watch.

Best Dismount from a Horse: Henry VIII, he goes pshwing out of the saddle

Best Swordplay: You may think there's no possible answer to this, but there is---two moments, specifically: the preparatory sword-spin he does at Balin's tomb just before the goblin attack in Moria, and the four lunges he does at 1:26:22 of Sharpe's Battle. It's just facts.

Prettiest Bean Film: Wolfwalkers, hands downnnn

Favorite Bean Death: All right, you knew we had to eventually end here. It's Boromir, obviously--- nothing tops that. But if we're looking at other roles, I think Patriot Games is my favorite, followed by Goldeneye.

So! That concludes this installment of Bean films, though I'll be continuing the labor, and I hope you will, too. What are your favorites?

[bucks-babe]

How Can I Forget You?

Follow my sideblog @bucks-babesideblog for updates on when I post

Pairing: Bucky x reader x Steve, Stucky x reader, Stucky

Summary: I literally don’t know how to summarize this. 40’s Bucky and Steve go to war, then you know what happens to them, Ladybird is left in the 40’s. Steve and Bucky are in the future. Will they get their Ladybird back?

Warnings: Angst (a lot of it), fluff, poly relationship, pre serum Steve, 40’s Bucky and Steve, 21st century!Bucky and Steve, some gay sex because it was getting too sad (anal fingering, anal, grinding naked), Peggy was never with Steve, implied suicide by alcohol, death of the reader in the 40’s, pet names (darling, ladybird, dumpling), crying, Jewish!Bucky, nostalgia, time jumps, happy ending because who do you think I am, I am not paying for anyone's therapy just so you know

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: There is no mention of the reader's body type nor race. Part of this fic does take place in the 40's, but I wanted to have a blank reader so that readers from any race can imagine themselves as Ladybird. There is no mention of period related homophobia because this shit was already too damn sad. If I missed any warnings, please let me know becuase I know that this fic is angsty and I want to make sure that everyone knows what they are getting into. Thanks to @buckys-wintersoldier for sacrificing her mental health for this fic 🤘

“Stevie, have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?” Steve blushes and hides his face in Bucky’s chest, breathing in his woodsy scent. “Don’t hide from me, punk, can’t see those pretty eyes anymore.” Running his fingers through Steve’s soft hair and trailing his hand down to the back of the smaller man’s neck, he gently brings his head back up, appreciating the soft, pink glow on his lover’s cheeks.

“Buck,” Steve trails off, not able to form a complete sentence when Bucky is looking at him like this - like he is gorgeous and not scrawny or undesirable. He doesn’t fight when Bucky brings their lips together, moaning at the taste of Bucky’s last cigarette. His eyes flutter as they pull away, both of their pupils blown, lips swollen and cheeks red. “You know, smoking is bad for you.”

Bucky grabs Steve and lays down on the couch, Steve resting between his legs. “I’m going to live until I’m 100, Stevie, smoking or not. You, my dear, are the one we need to worry about.”

“Like hell, you’re going to live that long with those habits. I’m healthy, it’s the doctors that keep telling me I’m not fit to join the army.” Bucky sighs. No matter how much he tries to stop Steve from enlisting, it never works. Not even their Ladybird can convince him.

“Stevie, please. I don’t want to hear anymore talk about this. Not today.” It’s their Ladybird that speaks, voice thick with emotion, yet stern. Neither of her boys would disobey her. She sets the tray with their sandwiches down and quickly leaves the room, palms frantically trying to smooth her dress down, pressing wrinkles that don’t exist.

Today was the day that Bucky had to leave. He didn’t enlist, not when his Ladybird wanted him at home, safe with her and Steve. She was terrified that he wouldn’t come home, leaving her and Steve behind.

But Steve was more stubborn than his man, not accepting staying at home when the men of his country are risking their lives. He needed to protect his country. “Stay here, dumpling.” Leaving a kiss on his forehead, Bucky follows Ladybird into the kitchen.

Two strong arms wrap around her waist and the tears she was desperate to hold in, cascade down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she spent so much time on. She was trying to be strong for him, support him before sending him off, but it was too much. Knowing that he could be killed at any moment, and these could be her final memories of him, was too overwhelming.

“I know, Ladybird, I know. I promise you that I’ll come home, okay? I can’t leave my best girl and guy alone.” She turns in his arms and his calloused palms rest on her cheeks, thumbs wiping away the stream of mascara running down her face.

“Steve, he, he can’t enlist, Buck. He just can’t. How am I supposed to stay here knowing that the loves of my life are out there, getting shot at, bombs going off, huh?” Steve sneaks in, snaking his arms around her waist.

“For you, Ladybird, I won’t. I’ll wait here with you, send Bucky letters, keep you safe, okay?” She knew it was a lie; Steve could never lie, but she chose to believe him in that moment. Maybe for her own sanity, or maybe just to savor the last moments she would ever get to spend with her men.

She was Bucky off, waving to him when he boarded the train, but when Steve left the house for errands she knew where he was going - she never saw him again, but she knew it was for his love for her and Bucky. She didn’t blame him.

***

When Steve woke up from the ice, the first thing he did was see if his Ladybird was still alive. From the moment he got the serum, he regretted lying to her. He knew when he looked in her eyes, she knew what he was going to do; she accepted his choice. It was who he was and she wouldn’t dream of him being anything else.

He cried that night, when Fury gave him the documents he so graciously printed from Google. Ladybird died only a few years after he went on ice. She never moved on. They said it was a broken heart, but the 40’s would never report a woman drinking herself to death, wallowing in the sorrow of lost love.

It was his fault. Maybe she could have healed from the loss of Bucky if he was there. It would never take away the pain, but she would have one of them, but he left her behind. He would visit her grave daily; her body six feet below him, wearing the dog tags of her lovers.

The pain was eased when he found Bucky. They had each other. Even when he couldn’t remember much, Bucky remembered his Ladybird. Steve wishes he could forget the day he had to tell the man he loved that their girl was dead.

“I still want to be with you, Steve.” It took a while before Bucky was stable enough to choose to love again, but it was never a hard decision. The love for Steve too much to ignore.

Their first time was much different from the 40’s. They both changed so much - Steve more so than Bucky. They couldn’t get each other naked fast enough, kisses and loving touches scattered throughout.

Bucky didn’t feel embarrassed by his arm, not when Steve’s eyes were filled with so much love and lust. Bucky had to look away, his eyes landing on his boyfriend’s cock. “Oh my god, Steve!” He didn’t mean to gawk but he couldn’t help it. Steve went from slightly below average to very much above it. Long and thick, veins pulsing through his cock, supplying enough blood to keep his large erection up.

“What? Oh.” Steve’s signature blush crept up his cheeks just like it used to. Even though his body changed so dramatically, he was still the same boy from Brooklyn Bucky fell in love with. “You’re bigger too, Buck.” Steve shied away from Bucky’s gaze, worried about how Bucky’s cock was going to fit inside of him.

“It hasn’t changed that much, dumpling.” It was almost true. Bucky was always above average - maybe seven inches. He was always thick, but now? His cock looked like it doubled in thickness, and around an inch added to his length.

“Yeah, right.” Bucky beamed at Steve as he became more comfortable under Bucky’s gaze.

“Well, how about we compare sizes then?” They both groan at the first contact in years, dicks pressed against each other. “Won’t you look at that, you’re bigger than me, dumpling.” Steve’s face scrunched in confusion, trying to focus through the haze of pleasure. There was no way that he was bigger than Bucky.

Nonetheless, Steve looks down, almost cumming at the sight of his lover’s cock leaking onto his. His eyes widened; he was bigger than Bucky. It was only by an inch, even with the serum thickening his cock, Bucky was still much thicker. “Good boy, see how pretty your cock is? Fuck, missed you so much.”

Bucky groans in between words as he grinds against Steve, cock pushed harder against his. Steve’s hands find the sides of Bucky’s face, pulling him down in a heated kiss while ropes of his cum shoot out onto both of their stomachs and chests. Bucky follows right after, not able to handle the pleasure the simple grind of their hips brings him as they both share their first orgasm since the 40’s.

He collapses on Steve’s chest while they both catch their breath. “Darling, I need your cock in me. Need to feel how you stretch me out.” Bucky’s cock instantly hardens.

“Fuck, dumpling, we don’t have lube.” Even in his lust filled state, Bucky knows that going any further would hurt.

“Don’t need it. Look at all our cum.” Bucky looks down and whimpers. The serum really did a number on them. His first orgasm in 80 years was a lot. The mixture of their cum was dripping down Steve’s sides and leaking down Bucky’s chest. He quickly dips down to get a mouthful of their cum, moaning as he shares it with Steve. “You taste just as good as I remember, Buck.”

Bucky scoops a generous amount onto two of his fingers while Steve eagerly spreads his legs, presenting his tight hole to his partner. At this moment, it’s just the two of them. The pain of their Ladybird is gone, if only momentarily.

The moan that leaves Steve’s lips as Bucky’s first finger breeches his hole is almost enough to have him cumming untouched. He doesn’t know how long he stretches Steve out for, but it was enough time to have Steve cumming on his chest again, giving Bucky more lube to use.

“Ready, dumpling? Ready for your sergeant’s cock?” Steve only moans, frantically nodding his head. No one would have thought that the tough captain was so submissive in bed. Bucky strokes his cock with Steve’s spend a few times before lining up with his stretched out hole.

He meets little resistance as his tip slips in. “Fuck, Steve. Think you’re even fucking tighter.” He has to close his eyes, balls pulsing and pulling up already. Steve’s tight ass ready to suck all of his cum out.

“Uh, uh, just bigger. So much bigger.” Steve’s mind was empty, only wanting his ass full. He cries when Bucky hikes his legs up, wanting to be as close as possible. “Wait, please.” Bucky immediately eases his cock out, knowing that he’s a lot bigger to take now. After a few minutes, Steve’s breath evens out and his eyes lock with Bucky’s, nodding at his lover.

As gently as he can, Bucky slides back inside his ass, slowly feeding Steve inch after inch. “How full are you, Stevie?” It wasn’t smug; Bucky needed to know that Steve was okay. Leaning down, Bucky presses his forehead against Steve’s, staring into his eyes. Tears fall from both of their eyes, connected so intimately again.

“So full, Buck.” He leans up to capture Bucky’s lips in a kiss, neither able to think straight, let alone kiss properly.

“I love you so fucking much, dumpling.” Steve cries out, hips jerking in an attempt to take more of his sergeant’s dick. As Bucky’s hips rest against Steve’s center, they both cum, chanting each other’s name like a mantra, whispers of their love passed back and forth. Neither of them can stop, trying to make up for all the years spent apart. All the years each spent mourning the loss of the other.

By the end of the night, they’re both spent. Cuddled in each other’s arms, Bucky is the first to break the silence. “Is it just me, or does this almost feel wrong without Ladybird?”

“It does, but she wouldn’t want us to stop loving each other.” Bucky doesn’t respond, caught up in his own mind. The pain from losing their Ladybird would never go away and they both knew that.

***

“Dumpling, you should stay there.” It’s said so quietly that if Steve wasn’t a super soldier he wouldn’t have heard him.

“Excuse me?” Steve pulls away, quickly sitting up in the bed.

“You should stay with her. You deserve it - she deserves it.” Bucky hangs his head, not able to look Steve in the eyes.

“And you don’t?”

“No. After all I’ve done, I’d only taint her. She doesn’t deserve that.” It was a decision that Bucky thought long and hard about.

“You think she would believe that? That I would? I just lost you, Buck and you’re asking me to do it again.” Steve stands and paces around the room, not able to comprehend what his boyfriend was saying.

“Think about it, Stevie. At least she would have one of us. You know what happened when she found out we both were ‘dead.’”

“Drop it, okay?” And Bucky did, but he planted the seed inside Steve’s mind.

***

“I’ll never stop loving you, Darling.” Bucky nodded, failing to hold in his tears, knowing that this was the last time he was going to see his best guy.

“Take care of her for me, yeah?”

“You know I will.” He grabs Bucky’s face, sharing their last kiss, tears mixing together. “And don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” His voice cracks, saying his final goodbye.

Bucky swallows hard. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He caresses Steve’s cheek once more and pats it, letting his hand fall down. They look at each other in silence, burning this memory into their brains.

He can’t bear to look at Bucky when he gets on the pad.

***

Steve’s throat is tight as he looks at his old brownstone. His Ladybird is right behind the door, having no idea who is outside. He picks up the spare key - exactly where it always was.

He has to close his eyes, taking in the familiar scent of the home he shared with his two loves. Stepping over the threshold, he sees her and his breath gets caught in his throat. “Ladybird?” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice, so unsure and in disbelief of what he was seeing.

Her head whips around; the dish she was washing shatters as it hits the ground. “Stevie?” His feet are glued to the ground, back hitting the closed door as he tries not to fall to his knees. “Is it really you?” Unlike him, Ladybird sprints to him, her dress fluttering at the speed she moves, the dog tags of her lovers jiggle with every step.

She almost tackles him to the ground, arms intertwined around his neck, legs clutching his waist. He catches her easily, his own arms squeezing her to his chest. Both of their sobs mix together as Steve drops down on the couch, legs no longer able to hold him up. “I thought you were dead. They send soldiers here and everything.” Steve couldn’t form an explanation, too caught up in her entire being.

He can only pull her into a kiss. It was messy, full of tears and snot, but neither of them cared. She didn’t know how long he waited for this moment. They held each other for hours, crying and kissing. Eventually, she fell asleep in his arms.

Steve didn’t have it in him to put her down as he went around the house. Everything was just as he remembered. The kitchen table, engraved with all their initials, still had three chairs around it, each one in different states of ruin - Bucky always flopped in his chair leaving the legs wobbly. Steve’s favorite mug sat on the lowest shelf, right where pre-serum Steve could reach, even though Bucky loved to put it up higher so that Steve had to ask for his help.

The living room still held the old rickie bookshelf that Ladybird insisted that she could put together by herself, no matter how many times her men offered help. Upon it was Bucky’s first edition copy of The Hobbit. He and Ladybird would always make fun of him for how much time, money, and effort he spent just to get that book - Steve placed it in a box along with the recipes from Mrs. Barnes.

The bedroom made his breath hitch, his arms instinctively holding Ladybird closer. His favorite chair, ripped in multiple spots, sat in the corner of the room, right by the window. Right next to it was his stand where his old sketchbook sat untouched - he put that in the box too. Bucky’s side of the closet hung his clothes, neatly arranged in order of his favorites, while Steve’s clothes lay on the ground in a pile, always too lazy to fold them.

The top left dresser draw held the photo album Ladybird made them for Christmas/Hanukkah - that went in the box. Ladybird’s jewelry box had a necklace with the Star of David that she saved for to get Bucky on his birthday. Bucky gave it back to her before he left for safekeeping - in the box it went. On top of the dresser were all the letters she sent to Bucky and Steve, along with the letters they sent her. The army gave them back to her with their dog tags - Steve made sure to not damage them as they were placed in the box.

***

The team shared gasps and whispers between themselves as Steve reappeared with a woman in one arm and a small box in the other. He whispers something in her ear before pointing in the distance.

A gorgeous smile graces her lips as her eyes meet Steve’s target. She doesn’t hesitate to sprint across the grass, bare feet and ignoring all of the Avengers. Bucky doesn’t hear the beat of her steps, overwhelmed at the loss of both of his partners.

He doesn’t know what hit him as he falls to the ground. Kisses are placed all over his face. For a second, he thinks that he’s dreaming because he would know her smell anywhere, the feeling of her lips ingrained in his mind. But even in his dreams, he couldn’t hear her voice, always muffled and distant, but it was clear as day as he lay on the soft ground.

“Bucky!” He has to grab her face to stop her assault, pulling her back far enough to confirm that it was real, that his Ladybird was in his arms.

“Bird? Oh my god.” He pulls her back down, showering her with affection, practically rolling them around in the grass, not caring about the audience that slowly surrounded them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Her tears come back once again. His hair was longer, worry lines sprinkled around his face, cool metal pressed against her right cheek, his right hand more callused than before. Steve told her a bit about what happened, about how Bucky lost his arm, how insecure he felt because of it.

Without pause, she tilts her head, soft lips placed delicately on his metal palm. “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” Stuck in their own little bubble, they don’t notice Steve laying beside them until his arms wrap around them both.

With one look he gets the rest of the Avengers to leave them in peace. Unlike his past self, Steve could lie when he needed to. He knew that Bucky wouldn’t have let him go to return the stones if he knew Steve wasn’t going to stay. Laying a kiss to Bucky’s forehead, Steve takes in the sight before him, all of them together at last.

“Bucky, you were right. I did take all the stupid with me.” Bucky’s tear streaked face looks over at his partner.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, dumpling.” For the first time since before the war, all three of them felt at peace, finally in each other’s arms again. It may have taken 80 some years, but none of them would change a thing if there was even the smallest chance that they wouldn’t end up together.

[screamlet]

bucktommy fix-it excerpt

just a short (500 words) excerpt from the thing i'm working on now. tommy's gone over to buck's place for a work-related emotional breakdown and he's on his way out again.

---

When Tommy comes out of the bathroom, looking much more like a person if he says so himself, Evan's got a tray of chicken parm out. He smiles at Tommy and points at it. "Last call."

"I'm okay, but thank you," Tommy says.

"Do you want a cake?"

"A what? A cake?"

"Well, a pound cake," Evan replies. "I was experimenting with the difference between a pound cake and a loaf, so I have a lemon loaf and a lemon pound cake. They both have icing."

"You're baking a lot," Tommy says. "Or, more than usual? I know you cook a lot—"

Evan shrugs. "You want one or not?"

Tommy's pretty sure that he's free to leave, but not without taking something edible with him. "Pound cake?" Evan goes back into the fridge, pulls one out. It's already wrapped in an excessive amount of saran wrap, but whatever. "Use to be my mom's go-to dessert, pound cake and a scoop of ice cream."

"Yeah?" Evan asks. "What flavor?"

Tommy's about to say, but he's struck by a memory. "Neapolitan, the vanilla-choocolate-strawberry one. We all liked chocolate best, but my mom got it into her head that strawberry ice cream was healthier, like it had touched a fruit once so that was fine?" Evan laughs and Tommy looks down at the cake in his hands. "Yeah, but she let me have the chocolate, she took the vanilla."

"Your dad got left with the strawberry?"

Tommy's smile turns crooked. "He didn't like sweets." Evan nods, understanding. 

Tommy hesitates for a second, then walks around the kitchen island and wraps Evan up in a quick hug. He pulls away before Evan realizes what's happening, but that was dumb—Evan pulls him in again and hugs him for real this time. It's over now, though, because Evan claps him on the shoulder like they're bros who have never eaten each other out. That's the end of the hug. "Thanks again for today," Tommy says. "Thanks for being a good friend. I don't deserve it, but I appreciate it." 

Evan opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, then lets it blast out anyway: "I'm—don't get me wrong, I'm—I'm still feeling a lot of things about us. More than I want to talk about right now, like I said, but. Man." Evan bites his lower lip hard. "Are you the real Tommy?"

Tommy squeezes the pound cake in his hands a little. "Yeah, pretty much. You got some good parts, though. The really good ones." He swallows past the lump in his throat, and means it when he says, "I wouldn't give you any less."

"But I wanted all of them," Evan says. "You gave me less, Tommy. Don't think you did me some favor, here. You didn't. You gave me less."

And you gave me too much, almost creeps out of Tommy's mouth, but he has the self-control to leave before it does. 

[911-ls-whats-your-emergency]

I am honestly so happy with Buck/Tommy. Not because I don't want Buddie endgame anymore - that's still my dream. But because the payoff will be so much richer (and honestly more believable for the casual fan) than if they go from "straight" to bi Buck to Buddie in a few episodes.

And so far, Tommy's character is GREAT! He has chemistry with both Eddie & Buck and based on his delivery of "MY attention?" he seems to be the most aware of the potential for Buddie out of the three of them. So yeah he's gonna take the opportunity to kiss Buck when it's offered (who wouldn't??) and probably a lot more than that and he's gonna be able to walk Buck through this new thing with some confidence so that if/when Buddie does come about, it can be more about the emotions.

They've honestly set him up to potentially be Eddie's queer guru as well - or even just given us someone who Eddie can talk about on screen about Buck, which has been rare in the past. And since Tommy seems aware of the Buck/Eddie of it all from the beginning, I'm hopeful he won't be the love interest who has to put on a brave face while being tossed aside for no reason in favor of the main pairing (a trope I hate) but rather he can be like "yeah I always knew this was coming but I wanted to have some fun in the meantime".

Also now that they confirmed Season 8, I want it to be slowwwww. I want everyone in the 911 universe to be rooting for them before they're even fully aware. I want every fan, not just the tumblr buddie community, to be screaming at their TV "JUST KISS ALREADY" every time Buddie is on screen. And then when they finally do, we can all die happy :) because love is love and these two deserve each other in the best way possible.

[myimaginarywonderland]

I truly want Eddie and Buck to fight.

Mainly because I have wanted Buck to blow up at someone from the 118 for years. I get that apparently there were off-screen apologies but the way every single member treated Buck when he got a lawyer, the way everyone has dismissed Buck's trauma before that, the way Buck was literally punshed by Chim, the way Buck's has (nearly) died multiple times and the trauma of that is never really acknowledged, the way Buck was sexually assaulted and everyone joked about it, the way Buck has had so much shit just put on him unknowingly sometimes by them, yes, I want Buck to snap.

I want Buck to finally stand up to someone and tell them that it's not okay, that what he went through wasn't okay and that he needed his family with him when they weren't.

I need Buck to finally see "I deserved better" and have someone show him he deserves better (aka Tommy.)

I need someone to finally be in Buck's corner, to tell him that what he went through wasn't okay and that he doesn't need to get over it because you just don't get over some traumas.

I need Buck to finally have a moment where he is allowed to be angry, where he is allowed to feel his emotions, where he is allowed to hurt and someone is immediately there to catch him, to be beside him.

I need Buck to finally be allowed to be proud of his work, to finally understand how much he has done as a firefighter when he didn't even have to, to understand that he can be more, that he is allowed to want more.

I need Buck to finally be allowed to go on a pathway up the FD ladder because he deserves it, he has earned himself the opportunity to get a chance to prove himself.

I need this season to finally lay the groundwork to Buck's full potential as a character, as a love interest, as firefighter. I need this to be the start of his true growth where he is finally allowed to want things and to get the things, the happy ending, that he always wanted for himself.

I need this to be a turning point for Buck where we finally see him settle into himself and I truly believe that for that to start he needs to let go of some unspoken things, he needs to be allowed to feel and to be angry at his family without knowing if he will have support.

And I need Buck to be the one to finally make Eddie realise how incredibly toxic and dangerous his behaviour is because no one else will probably get through to him. I also need Buck to understand that healing Eddie, that helping Eddie, can only go so far and that this is something that he can't fix because it's not his to fix.

I need Buck, the one person who always wants to help, who does everything to help, who will do anything to try to fix something, I need that Buck to be held and to be told that not everyone can accept his help. I need that Buck to be loved while someone tells him that Buck matters too, that Buck can not destroy himself for someone who might not even be ready to heal. I need Evan, the kid who always felt like something was wrong and that he had to make up for it, to be looked at and to be promised that he is enough, that just being him is enough and that he doesn't need to be more than that.

And yeah, if I think that Tommy can do that, then yeah, I need Tommy to be there while Buck is slowly realising that he matters too, that he deserves to be happy too.

[barrenclan]

do u have any insight on how you write deepdarks dialogue so effectively.... Odd. cuz oh man its good. like boy can you say one normal sentence

Actually, I can expand on it! I do a couple things specifically to write Deepdark's dialogue, I'll provide some examples and talk about it here:

Deepdark uses more big words than other characters - a loquacious speaker, you could say. I do the same thing with a character from my other comic, Applestar; it sets them apart and gives them a more bureaucratic, old-fashioned feeling to their speech. For example; "paltry", "piquant", and "loath" in the last issue.

I purposefully write some of Deepdark's sentences in a way that is ungrammatical, because it gives his words an off-kilter rhythm where your brain has to take a split second to process what he means. Deepdark's voice is meant to be song-like, with all his words flowing into each other, and his ungrammatical sentences show a clear falseness and intention to how he speaks, rather than it being natural. For example; "Not a touch to her remains", "Death already to me as I speak", and "[...] this does not lead my only path forward".

If you've ever attended a slam poetry competition, you'll be familiar with the kind of patter that slam poets use when they're reaching the crescendo of their piece. Words get shorter, more staccato, more snappy, and it speeds up the rhythm of their voice. You can also use dashed words to speed up how the sentences feel, because you're combining the speed of two words into one. Alliteration also naturally speeds up the way you speak. This lends to the previously mentioned singsong tone, but it also is intended to manipulate emotions and keep your attention focused on the speaker. For example;

Here's a 'slow sentence', from the beginning of Deepdark's unbroken monologue: "I’ve got quite a lot of thoughts of which to sort out, and I think I could use some help from such a bright young buck as you."

Here's a 'fast sentence', from the end when he's threatening Pinepaw: "I own his legacy, bathing in its gore, and swallow the salty-sweet taste of its final extinction."

4. I studied a few transcripts of speeches from famous cult leaders throughout recent history to see how they speak before I started writing Deepdark's character, and how they put sentences together, as well as what emotions they play on. It's a lot of grand promises, repeated phrases, exciting and lengthy and talkative and emotional and bold language that's meant to stir you up.

Hope that makes sense and reads alright! I enjoy thinking about individual character voices and how to write them.

[mintaikk]

Why Blitzø Likes Stolas

I've made jokes about Blitzø liking Stolas bcuz his type is tall, rich, powerful demons with musical talent, and that's probably kinda true, but I wanna talk about the real reasons Blitzø likes Stolas. Tldr at the end.

I think one of the major reasons Blitzø likes Stolas is how kind, sincere, and affectionate he is. Stolas is always making sure he is okay and is very passionate about litterally everything he does (dramatic little bitch, lol). And while he's ignorant ("my impish little plaything"???), he does mean well. Taking Octavia to Looloo Land to make her feel better, Going full demon mode to save IMP, his attentiveness to Blitzø during his mental breakdown in Seeing Stars, him absolutely adoring Octavia, him helping Ozzie when he gained no real benefit, etc, etc.

Also, expanding more on the affectionate part, Blitzø is shown to not get much affection or love in his life at all. His family situation was a giant mess (his dad literally sold him for 5 bucks and a condom Jesus Christ-), and Stolas is a very loving and affectionate person. Obviously, this is shown with Blitzø, but also with Octavia ('my precious little starfire', always staying patient with Via, even if he can be a bit dismissive, going full demon mode when Blitzø said he lost Via), and even his plants (he raised the flesh-eating plant since he was a kid, he pets the plant, on his insta he called a puprle rose "a handsome little rose"). And yeah, he's going to be affectione with Via, that's his daughter, but in Hell, (or maybe just from Blitzø's perspective, it'a hard to tell honestly) that's shown to be a rarity. So obviously, he's going to admire that about him.

And also, compare that to Blitzø's life. His dad saw him as less than, something happened that made his sister hate him, his mom seemed to be a good parent, but she's dead, his best friend and former crush hated his guts for 15 years, his daughter does care about him but she also mostly just shows anger and annoyance with him, and even Moxxie, who'd I'd argue is his best friend, gets annoyed with him constantly (I would too tbh but this isn't about that). Stolas just being his loving and affectionate self and being so happy to see him and always being so sweet to Blitzø is like a breath of fresh air to him.

Another thing is that Stolas shows clear interest in the things he likes. Take horses as example, bcuz we all know Blitzø is obsessed with them. Most of the time, his friends are pretty passive about it, but Stolas actually indulges him. Some of this is from their instas, but Stolas got him a horse Hoodie, he draws horses with him, and Stolas even got inspired to draw because of Blitzø.

(Also, plz note that in another post he commented that it smells like Stolas, and I want everyone to appreciate how happy he looks in this photo while smelling it again)

Blitzø probably admires Stolas's theatrics as well because despite growing up in a Circus where you were supposed to be dramatic and showy, he was still always taught to ignore or hide his true emotions (Cash ignoring that he didn't want to go to the Goetia Palace because "MONEY"). And while Stolas was raised the same way, he still wears his heart and emotions on his sleeve and is always showing them, whether it be positive or negative

And we all know thst Blitzø has major self hatred issues, but Stolas was genuinely interested in Blitzø as a person. Laughing at his jokes, asking how his day went, and with all of this, you can't help but wonder if Blitzø was figuring out that he did too. I think that's why he was so heartbroken about Ozzie's. Because to him, Stolas hiding his face was just proof that Stolas didn't care. That he was just a little plaything. But, Blitzø liked that Stolas liked him for who he was, and that he didn't have to pretend to be someone different.

Yes, ik Blitzø wasn't here for some of them, and he thinks that Stolas is just faking all of this. BUT, Blitzø can notice things subconsciously, and the stuff that Blitzø wasn't there for was to talk about Stolas's character as well. That's why I wanted to talk about this, to talk about what Blitzø sees in Stolas and his character.

Feel free to add anything if you want! I'd love to hear your guy's opinions, takes, and thoughts on the ship. I'm probably gonna a make a post on why Stolas likes Blitzø at some point, lol

Tldr; Blitzø likes Stolas because he's kind, sincere, loving, affectionate, passionate, caring, dramatic, and likes Blitzø for who he is.

[kyoteugly]

Inspired by this post I made a fanarts and it turned into a fanfic. All you can find under the cut.

Kiss me

Buck/Eddie | T | 1.1k | with fanart

Buck had no idea how he ended up in a Lakers game which he had no interest in. Well, it wasn't exactly true. He knew he would end up here eventually, tickets were an anniversary gift after all, so it was given that he would be here with his boyfriend. But he didn't have a boyfriend anymore. Or girlfriend. Or even a date. It would be pretty bold to take a newly met person to a Lakers game. That kind of date could end... enthusiastically. But using those tickets to get laid would make him a bad person, right? Nah, he wouldn't do that.  It crossed his mind that he should return the tickets, he doesn't even like basketball...

"Yes! Go, go, go! Hell yeah!"

Buck stuffed another fist of popcorn into his mouth, watching Eddie take his seat again. He's so excited - commenting the game to Buck and cheering loudly, standing up whenever emotions take over - it's nice to see Eddie like this, smiling and joyful… looking so… alive.

Right, that's why he's here.

He showed Eddie the tickets and he just froze, looking like a cat who saw a Christmas tree for the first time. With his mouth slightly open in wonder and big eyes reflecting every colorful light in them. Buck didn’t even have to think about it, he just gave both tickets to Eddie. And immediately, before even taking them from Buck’s hand, Eddie said something like “Only if you come with me.” And Buck said “sure” - again, without thinking.

And now he’s here, wearing the only yellow t-shirt he could find, because Eddie insisted he has to wear proper colors, when he showed up at Buck’s loft in a Lakers purple hoodie. 

“Great game, we’re gonna win for sure.” Eddie lets out a little huff and runs fingers through his hair to clear it from his flushed face. 

Buck thinks he should take that hoodie off, but he’s also sure Eddie would refuse, giving him an offended look. Somehow this image makes Buck smile with fondness.

And a second later it’s gone, because Eddie insolently reaches for Buck’s popcorn.

“Eyy! You said you don’t want, so hands off!” Buck tries to guard his food but Eddie only grins at him like this is some kind of dare and reaches again. This time he’s much faster and Buck is unable to save his snack from Eddie’s grabby hands.

He looks at Buck with a victorious bratty smile, while chewing slowly. Buck gazes at him like a look could kill, but Eddie is not impressed. He simply sucks his Coke through the straw and still grinning turns back to the court. 

Finding his own soda cup empty, Buck just pouts with his eyes fixed on the seat in front of him. He definitely doesn’t like basketball.

He lets out a short sigh, and looks around. The intermission should start soon, so if he wants to avoid crowds, he should go get a drink now. But before he gets up, a cup of Coke appears in front of him. 

Buck takes it and sinks into his seat with a soft smile and a warm feeling spreading through his chest. Eddie didn’t even look at him, he didn’t have to. Surrounded by all the noise and lights, all the people, he’s still aware of Buck by his side. Excited and engaged in the live game he loves so much, he still sees Buck and knows what he thinks.

It’s so natural, Buck never really thought about it. But now he does and he realizes Eddie is always there for him, no questions asked, honest but not judgmental, no matter what’s going on in his life. No matter if it’s silently drinking beer on a living room couch or going on a game together. Because somehow it feels like Eddie is here not only for his own fun but for Buck as well. 

Especially when Eddie nudges Buck to join him, when he starts singing with the most joyful smile on his face. 

“Kiss me, out of the bearded barley Nightly…”

And Buck can’t help it but to look… at this unruly stand of dark hair, at those long eyelashes casting soft shadow over honey-colored eyes… at those full lips, singing…

“You'll wear those shoes and I will wear that dress Oh, kiss me…!”

Eddie nudges him again and Buck caves, singing along. 

They both look at the screen, watching people smiling and kissing. And Buck is sure Eddie, like always, is here for him. To make him feel this carefree lightness, to simply enjoy the moment, either it’s a game or making fools of themselves singing corny songs on top of their lungs.

They butchered the second verse, none of them sure what the words are, but it doesn’t matter. They laugh like they hadn’t in a long time, together in this freeing act of simply being themselves. And they give all they got when the chorus plays again…

“Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight Lead me out on the moonlit floor Lift your open hand…”

Buck looks at Eddie and he thinks some silly thoughts… how beautiful Eddie is, how happiness makes his eyes sparkle mischievously but at the same his lips curve with fondness… how he knows him and loves him, not despite being Buck, but because of it… he looks at Eddie in this warm golden hue and he thinks he’s like a sun…

Eddie turns to him and Buck immediately avoids his gaze because…

Suddenly Buck sees himself on the big screen and somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he should wave “no” but he can’t… because Eddie is still looking at him, and all Buck wants is to meet his honey-colored eyes.

“So kiss me”

Buck isn’t aware he exhales the lyrics when Eddie gently cups his face. And then he kisses Buck. Softly and oh-so sweetly, with the whisper of longing in the light pressure and delicate movement of his lips. It’s tender, it’s perfect, it takes Buck’s breath away.

And then Eddie pulls away, ducking his head and smiling shyly.

“Sorry… I got carried away.” Abashed, he's scratching the back of his head.

Buck knows he’s blushing, his face is so hot, he’s sure he’s red up to his ears. He wants Eddie to keep kissing him, he wants to kiss him back but before he’s able to process this, Eddie asks sheepishly.

“Can I have some popcorn now?”

Buck laughs, his blue eyes shine with fondness because somehow this question makes him want to kiss Eddie even more. But he doesn’t. They share a snack and get back to watching the game. Buck would never admit to it but he kinda starts to like basketball.

Somewhere during the second half, Buck takes Eddie’s hand, and without taking his eyes off the court, without any questioning look, Eddie squeezes Buck’s hand gently, and throughout the rest of the evening, he doesn’t let go. 

[peppermintquartz]

It's a somber mood in the car as Buck drives home with his boyfriend. They'd been in high spirits too, helping Eddie set up the decorations and encouraging him when he was feeling a little uncertain about the surprise.

Now Buck wishes he hadn't been there to see the way Chris blew off his dad. The pain in Eddie's entire being was broadcast loudly, even if Eddie merely shut the video call down and then grabbed himself a beer afterwards. Tommy went after Eddie and Buck saw them talking in low voices for a bit, and he hopes that Tommy helped, because Buck was - still is - at a loss of words.

It's hard not to feel protective of Eddie, but it's also difficult because it's Christopher inflicting this hurt, and Buck isn't sure how to feel.

"Hey. We tried. Eddie tried. It just wasn't time yet," Tommy ventures, reaching across the console to pat Buck's knee.

Buck sighs. "It's just... It's Chris. Ball of sunshine, always positive, a complete sweetheart Christopher Diaz. I think about that kid and I think about the boy on the screen just now and. They're not the same person."

"Or maybe," Tommy says gently, his big hand still on Buck's thigh, "he's a teenager who is going through a very difficult emotional time and also some challenging physical changes."

"That what you told Eddie?"

"No, I told him that even if Chris isn't receptive now, he'll remember that Eddie tried, and when Chris is feeling less resentful and more forgiving, this will be an important moment." Tommy exhales slowly. "I mean, what I would have given if my father tried half as much as Eddie does to be a good dad."

Buck keeps his eyes on the road. Tommy's wistful tone reminds him that, of the three of them, Tommy is the only one who goes no-contact with his father. Buck hasn't pried. He wants Tommy to share of his own volition.

"I'm glad you were there for Eddie just now," he says instead, because it's true.

Tommy squeezes Buck's thigh gently. "He's my friend too. You know, he can have more than one friend."

"Yeah, some dork with terrible fake mouth static told me that once."

"Medal-worthy fake mouth static, thank you very much."

Buck has to chuckle at that. At the next red light, he picks up Tommy's hand and kisses the knuckles, before looking at his boyfriend straight in the eyes. "You're the best boyfriend."

"Baby, I'm your first boyfriend," Tommy says, eyes crinkling in the corners. "No competition."

Buck is going to retort when the car behind them blasts their horn. With a snort, Buck gets back to driving. "What, you want there to be competition? Not happy to be the first?"

Tommy is silent, but there's a quirk to his lips when Buck steals a glance at him.

"What?" Buck presses.

"Well, I was gonna say something like, no, I want to be the first and the last, but that might be too much." He sounds a little nervous.

There's a little flip in Buck's belly that tells him that, even if it is too much, he kinda likes it. He smiles and takes Tommy's hand, squeezes. "A bit much right now, yeah. But I'm... not opposed to the idea."

Tommy turns his hand over and intertwines their fingers. "Good. That's good."

--

now on AO3