#stop trying to make fetch happen it's not going to happen (fetch is buck not being chris' dad)

[wowthatsextra]

Kinda the best thing to come out of the "Buck is not Chris' father figure" discourse

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮

153 for Cranberry. Damn!

We are picking up in the middle of some horniness tbh so apologies.

---

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugs. “Well…” 

He trails off awkwardly. 

“Uh, I’ve never done it with another guy,” Buck offers. 

Eddie smiles a little uncomfortably. “Well, um… That didn’t seem to affect your, uh, skill level.”

Buck grins. “Well, good.”

Eddie swallows. “I, uh… I need to clean myself up.” 

“Same here,” Buck admits.

He feels a little wave of anxiety. Like Eddie is going to end the call and run away from him. That things will be awkward between them. 

“But, there’s no reason why…” Eddie starts. “Uh, I mean, there’s no reason why we couldn’t do that again sometime?” 

Oh. 

Oh, well that’s the opposite of running away. 

“I’d like that,” Buck replies eagerly. 

“Good,” Eddie smiles. “Goodnight, Buck.”

Buck’s chest flutters. 

“Goodnight, Eddie.” 

vii.

Time moves by a little easier after that. On all fronts, things just seem a bit better. 

Training with Cranberry goes well. As it turns out, from the list of tricks she needs to get the first title - Novice - her service dog training has already accomplished most of it. And she only needs to be able to do any ten, so it’s kind of a steal. 

She already knows how to fetch an object from ten feet away and bring it back to him, bring her leash when specifically asked, hold an object in her mouth for three seconds, lay down on a hand signal, and boop a targeted object with her nose. That’s five. Then, her other skills allow for some of the other tricks on the list with no additional training. She hops into a large cardboard box and sits on command with no fuss. That’s six. She hops onto a low table - a substitute for a platform - and sits on command easily. That’s seven. She can target a raised platform - the table again - with just her two front paws. That’s eight. She can follow a series of “sit” and “down” commands in rapid succession, leading to what is adorably called a ‘puppy push-up.’ That’s nine. Only one to teach.

After watching a quick video involving a treat lure, Buck and Chris spend half an hour teaching Cranberry a ‘spin’ command. By the end of it, she’s twisting in a tight circle on command for a piece of freeze dried beef liver. That’s ten. They film and submit after a single day of effort. 

“That was easy!” Chris, the enthusiastic cameraman to Buck’s dog handler, announces once it’s all done. 

“The next ones will be tougher, I think,” Buck says. “Cran just already has a lot of training.”

“Bring it on!” Chris exclaims confidently. 

It’s not just Cranberry’s training endeavors that make life that much better, either. Things have shifted significantly with him and Eddie, too. Not only has the phone sex continued - in the fleeting times when Eddie gets the chance, which are rare - but they pretty much just kind of exist on the phone together, now. When Eddie isn’t working, that is. It’s probably annoying as all hell for Hen and Chim, but Buck can’t bring himself to stop. They spend hours on Facetime almost every day, whether it be while Buck is cooking for himself and Chris, playing some sort of virtual game in the evenings, or talking just the two of them before bed. They talk about anything and everything. They talk about things they never would have before. They talk until one of them - usually Buck - falls asleep. It’s not unusual for Buck to wake up in the morning to a dead or dying phone battery. 

Things suddenly feel simultaneously less crowded and less lonely, all at once. Like a routine is building and forming and becoming normal, even if nothing about these circumstances are normal at all. Even if he’d be much happier if things with Eddie weren’t happening via his iPhone. He’s finding things to look forward to and ways to be happy here, too. 

“You’re both really doing okay?” Eddie asks the night Buck and Chris filmed Cranberry’s video submission. “You’re not just trying to spare my feelings?” 

“No, I’m not,” Buck promises. “I won’t lie, it got rough for a bit there. But we are adjusting to the new normal, or whatever.” 

Eddie sighs. “I don’t want me not being there to be the new normal.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Buck replies quickly. “Just, the lack of space. Everything online. Nowhere to go. That’s all.” 

“I know.” Eddie replies. “Thank you, again. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” 

“I’m thinking a nice six pack of that expensive craft pale ale I like will do,” Buck winks. 

“Deal. Minute I’m home.” Eddie promises. 

“You may stop thanking me when you come home to your child hyper fixating on dog training,” Buck says. “He’ll want one of his own even more.”

“Oh, well not to worry. He’s claimed yours. His teacher emailed to tell me that Chris wrote a lovely little story for English class about his dog, Cranberry.” 

Buck’s heart feels sort of gooey at that thought.

“I want to read that!” He complains. “Why didn’t he show it to me?”

“Probably because he knows she’s not really his dog.” 

“No way,” Buck waves a dismissive hand. “She’s totally his dog, too. I mean, he’s not her handler like I am. But when it comes to, like, loving her? Yeah, she’s his.”

Eddie smiles. He looks at Buck, but doesn’t say anything. 

“What?” Buck asks.

“Nothing,” Eddie assures him. “He’s pretty lucky, I guess.”

“Yeah, well… So am I. I could have ridden this whole thing out alone.” Buck reminds him. 

“Yeah, then who would have filmed your dog tricks?” Eddie teases.

“Exactly! Where’s the fun in that?”

viii.

Things take another downhill turn one day when training for Cranberry’s next trick title. Her Novice submission passed. She is officially Tweed River’s Vodka Cranberry TKN. So she has more letters behind her name than Buck. He tries not to think about that one too hard. 

Like with Novice, Cranberry’s service dog training comes in handy for the list of Intermediate tricks. Again, she just needs ten. Because of her training, they are easily able to get her to carry a basket, balance a treat on her nose, fetch something from twenty feet away and deliver it to hand, lay and put her head down on command, presh a doorbell button, and open both a door and a drawer with a pull tab. That’s seven. They’re quickly able to get her to jump up and lean two paws against Buck’s arms for eight. Which leaves catching something midair and hide and seek for their ninth and tenth. 

They focus on catching first. It should be easy. She catches balls midair all the time during games of fetch. The problem is that it’s never on command or on purpose. It just depends on the way the throw goes and Cranberry’s coordination that day. It isn’t an exact behavior, the way she can reliably fetch and retrieve the ball more generally.

They’re practicing in the backyard. The best way they’ve found to get her to catch midair is to throw the ball high and short, giving her time to track and leap for it without having to cover any distance. Christopher is the one throwing. Laughing as he manages to lob the ball higher and higher, watching Cranberry launch her lithe, muscular body. She snaps at the ball like an alligator, tail wagging proudly each time she catches it. Buck is a little nervous at how much air she’s getting, and how vertical her body is stretching.

“She’s good at this!” Chris exclaims. 

“She is,” Buck agrees. “Hey, don’t throw it so high every time, though. I don’t want her to hurt herself.”

[lover-of-mine]

Your blog today has been so eye-opening. I have not been aware of half of what has happened because the block button was my friend when the other side got so nasty. I'm still not holding my breath he's gone. But when you bring up what makes Oliver and Ryan comfortable. It's not so far-fetched to believe that now we know they hang out here they see and read us. And if they saw LFJ cameos creating the personal attacks on Ryan and the distortion of Oliver's storyline. Well, yeah. I can see why LFJ seemed so tense in those BTS shots where he sat there pouting after he spoiled the medal ceremony. Did he get a talking, too? He seemed loathe to engage with the cast. Maybe he thought building up a fandom would secure him space, and instead, he caused chaos. Because it's definitely his fans causing the trouble. None of us went to send hate on the pride post because we aren't that mean. I guarantee their side won't be kind when they post a Buddie IG soon.

Anyways... I guess now I'm looking at it more clear eyed. If Ryan, Oliver and Tim saw this going down I could see them pulling the plug. Especially if the other side tries to turn Gerrard into a Tommy centric story.

Okay, look, Oliver or Ryan alone do not have the type of pull necessary to force Lou to shut down the cameo. Someone talking to Lou after he spoiled the medal thing? Possible. Someone talking to him because every controversy in the fandom lately has his name in the middle and people keep using stuff he said to back them up, including harassing cast members? Extremely possible. Because here's the thing, a controlled ship war is good for business. If it wasn't triangles wouldn't be so popular. The thing here is when one side is getting fuel from an actor who's getting paid to say stuff that goes against the actual promotional stuff they are putting out. Oliver and Ryan may talk a lot about Buck and Eddie's relationship, but they never gave specific and detailed storylines that don't align with show. The cameos add a layer of complications that no one wants to deal with, because it's leading to cast/production members being harassed for not following up on shit they never promised. It's one thing when fandom chaos is just fans being chaotic. When the justification all start looking like "oh but so and so said that in this video" you have a marketing problem in your hands. I guarantee you that even if Lou wasn't told to shut down, he saw the light and shut it down on his own, abc pr people are looking into just adding stuff to everyone's contract to stop all of their actors from doing the type of cameo he was doing anyway because that creates a pr aspect they cannot control. So they stop having control of their own narrative. No one officially promised more Tommy. In fact most of the interviews we saw during 705/06 had them talking about how they were not sure if he was gonna come back because they were still filming, and didn't have all the scripts. The one interview with Lou and Oliver barely talks about them. But then Lou comes out in full gear talking about bt thriving it created an expectation that people are demanding while citing someone linked to the show. And even though he has no creative power, he's the face the audience knows. Most people don't know Tim's face. Why would people take him seriously when the guy they are seeing on screen is saying something else? Obviously, they're gonna try to get control of that back, and getting there talk would explain why he doesn't have the level of "goofy" moments with the cast in the bts stuff.

I do believe that if when promo starts, people start actively attacking Oliver and Ryan if they choose to use both of them together to promote the season, focusing on their comfort is more likely than ignoring it and hoping people will forget about it. Buck and Eddie are the main characters and I've never seen the show do shit that implies they want their cast to be uncomfortable.

And I don't blame Lou for the cameos, like, that's smart as hell. He upped his exposure, the character acceptance, forced himself into another season. I applaud him for using his tools for his gain, it's a business. No one told him not to do it beforehand and he went for it. There's a lot of shit going on using that as fuel, but no one could've predicted the CHAOS this ship would bring. This fandom has been a monoshipper fandom forever. It was buddie or die. I don't think anyone involved expected people to flip. So they don't know how to handle it. In the end, I guess we have to wait for the season to evolve.

[woomycritiques543]

As a lackadaisy fan who dropped helluva 5 episodes in, I think you’re overestimating the effect of the fandom has on things outside of itself because you are inmeshed in it. You don’t have the outside view. Don’t get me wrong, it sounds like a toxic shit show, but it doesn’t have a ‘monopoly’. If all it took to gain a monopoly in entertainment was to have a horribly rabid fanbase that won’t take the smallest bit of criticism, the history of indie entertainment would be very different.

(TW: LONG POST, mentions of Vivziepop's behavior, also if you're another lackadaisy fan that's curious about what's been happening over at the Hazbin fandom PLEASE DONT SKIP THIS POST!)

"If all it took to gain a monopoly in entertainment was to have a horribly rabid fanbase that won’t take the smallest bit of criticism, the history of indie entertainment would be very different."

Hm...

As a Helluva Boss fan who's seen how many views most indie projects have nowdays, plus what Vivziepop did here, especially since this wasnt just about the fanbase to begin with:

(Psst. Vivienne, these people got bills and families to pay for, so maybe dont try to push them away from other projects just because you like Hazbin Hotel? You can hire other people, you've done it millions of times before- let other projects thrive, and let them have different projects so they can be successful too! Far-Fetched barely has as any workers compared to you, so maybe stop being selfish and share the load so other projects can get all the help they can get? Especially when you rush out 5+ episodes a year and treat your staff like shit? So maybe... I dont know... treat them better so "A BUNCH!" of people from Spindlehorse wont think of even having to do so much extra work, day jobs and all, when there's 40+ million bucks sitting from your shows RIGHT THERE?! There's a reason why "a bunch" of people would be brought to do other projects at the same time. -and it's not because of all the red...)

I think it's pretty safe to say that theres an obvious monopoly going on. Why else would these episodes be getting 20+ million at a time, for years, while other just as good projects get next to none in comparison. Honestly, look at how much views, how many trends the shows follow, how much mainstream appeal, how much merchandising fills the "shelves" of Sharkrobot, how many episodes were shilled out in 2021 alone, how much it dominates the indie industry, and try to tell me that Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel are " not a monopoly!" Shilling out multiple Helluva Boss episodes full of softcore porn and bright colors a year to keep Spindlehorse's shows on top of the trending tag on Youtube EVERY YEAR SINCE 2019! -and end being what millions end up being reccomended. Though many people dont know that HB exists, many others do, and it's almost constantly being mentioned with indie animation while equally beautiful looking, or much better written projects get only 50,000+ views. Even in spite of Exxes and Oohs situation:

Season Two's premiere got 4+ million views in 15 hours.

While when I was watching the premiere of Exxes and Oohs with my freinds a couple of weeks ago after it premiered:

I noticed that it only had 1 million views in 5 hours, and then pretty much stayed that way throughout the entire week with only about 3 million for several days after Ep 1 had 4+ mil in only 15 hours.

While the premeire of Season Two passed 4+ million in LESS THEN TWENTY FOUR HOURS! -and the last episode is barely over it's despite being over 5 months apart. It's been a whole month, yet Seeing Star's views are still similar to when it was released and Exxes and Oohs is barely surpassing Seeing Stars despite a whole month having passed, while for Season One, in 5 months there would be 20+ million views and at times... more!

-and just to make this worse...

Hazbin Hotel.. a show with a pilot with over 70+ million views:

It's anniversary/sneak peak into the official show got only-

Get this...

THREE MILLION VIEWS!

-when FIVE WHOLE MONTHS have already passed and the fandom's still popular! While most of the previews for the pilot got OVER 3.5 million and the most popular being 20+ mil!

So it's really just people not caring to see the literal anniversary of the show since most were turned off by Helluva Boss or moved on because they grew out of all the stereotypes. It's got only about 0.8% of the views Hazbin's pilot has gotten despite the fact that people have been waiting for this show for THREE YEARS now and the fandom is bigger than ever. So even for that monopoly, it's slowly falling, and people barely cared about Hazbin's anniversary and release date reveal despite having waited for 3+ years.

So "Seeing Stars's" views has barely budged since release, Season Two's premiere has 20+ mil, but has also been that way since over three months ago, Exxes and Oohs only had 1 mil after even 5+ hours and onward, and Hazbin Hotel, a show with billions of fans, it's anniversary got only 3 mil- while the past season made OVER A YEAR AGO continues to receive views regularly. Meanwhile, Lackadaisy, had 6+ million in only TWO WEEKS while Exxes and Oohs barely got passed that in that time period (I remember it having maybe 5+ mil in about two weeks last time I checked, or even less that that.) and has been stagnant in views for 3+ weeks while Lackadaisy got over half of that in only 2+ weeks.

Which now makes it Helluva Boss's very first competitor.

While Murder Drones has Seeing Star's level of views after an ENTIRE YEAR so this is really saying something about the quality of Helluva Boss's latest episodes as Season One still skyrockets, the latest episodes stay stagnant even after 3+ weeks, and Helluva Boss now has a direct competitior due to this lowering in quality and just how many reviews are now criticizing it while Lackadaisy's reviews are majority positive with little to no hiccups in between.

Not joking, the first thing you get when you search "Seeing Stars Review" is thousands of negative reviews because of Vivienne, Adam, and Brandon Rodger's refusing to improve in their WRITING- you know... WHAT THEY WROTE ON A DOCUMENT?! The thing people have been CRITIQUEING?! Not "a personal, useless preference" but ACTUAL CRITICISM that they keep ignoring to look "near perfect" and to keep the monopoly going while other indie shows continue to get mediocure level views in comparison to Helluva Boss.

The views have been stagnant since near release. I remember seeing 17 million 3 weeks after it came out- and now it wont budge!

Yeah, im sure those statistics and thousands of people getting upset for actual reasons are "bad faith!" too. Adam- FUCK OFF! People aren't "bad faith" for telling you that using anti-black and fatphobic stereotypes in your show is awful! Also- you're show is now getting genuine competition so I suggest not being an egotistical jerk to your own fans and to actually listen to them for once before shit hits the fan and you have to further get hit by your own karma!

While look at all of the positive reviews Lackadaisy's getting!

Lackadaisy has almost all positive reviews, is catching up with Helluva Boss's latest episodes, all the other episodes in Season Two are also still static in views and Season One continues to get thousands on a daily basis, and yet is still- and I mean- still, Barely scratching Daisy's success! In comparison to how you'd think these "still being rewatched a lot" last episodes would be doing since this is HB, the monopoly of indie animation, that we're talking about!

So i'd say that Helluva Boss Season Two has been getting it really rough for the past 8 months in comparison to the success Season One still has, and even then, the first episode still has 54+ mil and yet most of the episodes continued to decrease by the millions each release. So even in Season One, the signs that people were losing interest were already there. -and Ozzies and Truth Seekers have just now caught up with Season Two's first episode (You know... the one people got hyped as all hell by but then lost interest once the episode started getting slammed for how terrible it was?) despite being the ones that are praised often, while Season Two's premiere has barely budged for the past year- making this a receipe for MILLIONS of lost views in total, and this is a fandom that constantly says "I binge watch the episodes a ton!" and yet Season One has barely budged in one and a half years. Its been in 30+ mil I think since last year... it's April now. -and they're now all catching up to each other and are about the same views, which would mean that they're barely going up by the thousands for ENTIRE MONTHS and Season Two, is getting even less because of the negative reviews from not a "useless personal opinion" but OBJECTIVELY BAD WRITING!

Season Two stays stagnant in views even after 5+ weeks and onward since the difference in views is that small.

THEY NOW HAVE A COMPETITOR! So Vivienne really needs to start giving a shit or WOOAH boy things are going to get intense!

So though Helluva Boss is still on top, it's falling over, and now has competition to worry about after only two weeks.

-and even then, it's still on top, because of Vivienne manipulating both her audience and staff into meeting constant demands and giving it constant praise regardless of quality under the threat of being seen as a "bad person" for not doing so.

Helluva Boss having almost billions of dollars in merch, 40+ million views with many of their episodes, a majority celebrity cast with little to no indie actors, Vivziepop having basically tried to put down Far Fetch from having any actual success by trying to not get her team with a show of BILLIONS of views to not work on it just because Hazbin is her "favorite project!" when these people have BILLS TO PAY and a FAMILY that can't be held up just by one project- which is why people like Erin had to work extra jobs, overnight, despite this show getting millions of dollars each day, in the first place! Yet to Vivienne, what mattered the most was her project, and not their lives. Which is the reason why she overworks her staff, and according to people who worked there, aren't even actually allowed to work on other projects, including Far-Fetched, either. While Far Fetched has not nearly as many people working on it and everything we see there has with has 100,000+ or less while Helluva Boss continues to monopolize the industry. (in case you're asking: Yes, it was also her supervisor's fault, but she's a million dollar creator, can't she just hire someone else instead of getting in the way of other people's lives other a cartoon show? Most freelancers do multiple projects, how else are they going to pay the bills?)

Yeah, Erin was lifted from a few things- but did they still have to work an extra job just to support themselves despite working for a 40+ million dollar show, did most people in Spindlehorse end up having to suffer even worse to meet those kinds of demands?

YES!

So does that make all the "Erin's not a real victim" or "Erin Frost's mistakes, as a human being, makes everything people say about Vivienne's behavior "not true" just because we beleive people who bootlick Vivienne but not people that she's hurt despite both people "only" using word of mouth. Except no, because no the ex-staff have evidence and yet the current staff who threatened to punch the people who spoke out about Vivziepop's behavior have nothing but word of mouth but we'll still beleive them just because they give us softcore porn! :D" comments now complete bullshit?

YES!

-and with Ashley Nichols in particular:

You'd think that Vivziepop would try to help Ashley... A LOT!

-since Ashley gave her projects millions of views in publicity and support with Hunicast and having actually worked on Hazbin!

But instead, Viv prioritized herself in the situation, fired all of her indie voice actors and replaced most of them with celebrities when she could have easily found other indie vcs but choose to use her status to get an actor from Grey's Anatomy and NORMAN REEDUS- and most likely will get more celeberties for Hazbin just because "famous = don't accociate with indie actors." appparently despite her main thing being "Support indie creators guys! :("

Vivziepop, again, pulling herself up while she's already been the top of the indie industry for the past 4+ years, while other projects continue to be pushed into the mud of a "cult classic" grave.

So in reality- Helluva Boss isnt "helping" the indie industry grow stronger, it's causing a monopoly which gets in the way of people's shows, their careers, their jobs, and even their mental health.

-and many people having little to no mentions of other projects outside of "Look at this pretty cool project I found- Ok, BACK TO HELLUVA BOSS AND HAZBIN HOTEL WOOOOAH LOOK THIS IS THE BEST INDIE SHOW EVAR!1!" is a literal monopoly in it's most capitalistic, trend serving, overproduced form.

Ashley even saw Vivienne trying to blacklist yet another staff member just because that staff member was upset about how much they were being rushed and overworked in order to meet even near the same demands, even with a few things being lifted since they have ADHD, they were still overworked, and for the rest of the staff it was even worse since they were overworked and bullied in order to meet the demands of said monopoly and stay in Spindlehorse.

Far Fetched got announced years ago- yet Vivziepop hasnt even mentioned it once as far as ive seen, she fired Ashley's partner and seeing how HB is, is likely going to replace him with an non-indie voice actor when apparently she could have easily kept them if she just paid a fee, when she has MILLIONS of dollars in support for her show now, lives in LA, and could easily use her platform to support THOUSANDS of indie projects. But as usual, she pulls herself up, bullies her own fandom by saying that they're "NOT A WRITER!" and "CANT UNDERSTAND WRITING!" for giving her any feedback and has basically manipulated her audience into seeing her and her shows as "NEAR PERFECT!" to continue said monopoly with HB's continous trending and high reviews regardless of quality. While other projects are only "secondairy". -and despite having worked on Hazbin Hotel, Far Fetched has gotten the average amount of acknowledgement for indie animation- Which, isnt much... at all.

Compared to that of mainstream shows, and especially Hazbin Hotel!

Yet as usual, Vivziepop manipulates her followers into contuining to put her on top regardless of her channel's ever reducing quality, and even views since it's lost millions since debut. With people constantly making excuses such as "ITS JUST BEEN UP LONGER!" and "ITS NOT LOSING VIEWS THE PANDEMIC HAS JUST ENDED AND PEOPLE ARE OFFLINE MORE NOW!"

Yeah-

Say that to how Lackadaisy has 6+ million in only two weeks despite being another show altogether, despite the show also having been produced in the pandemic since 2019.

It's been only two weeks yet it already has almost just as many views, and if this keeps up, will likely even have more than HB's latest episode while "EXXES AND OOHS!" has been only at 13+ since it was released. It barely has moved on inch in a entire month while Lackadaisy keeps going... and going... and going...

While Helluva Boss's latest episode has barely scratched the surface despite being just as new with only a month difference.

It's honestly messed up how Ashley was shafted after supporting Vivziepop and working for her after all this time. Same for all the other artists who worked for her. -and as Erin said:

-and seeing how Far Fetched is doing right now, this couldnt be any more evident of just how much of a capitalistic, worker mistreating, monopoly that Vivziepop's channel has become to the point where people who worked with her FOR YEARS still end up getting the short end of the stick or even outright harassed by her and her fandom, and she doesnt even defend them, she just... let's the bullying happen, let's her ex staff get slandered, let's her staff threaten to HIT THEM while only caring about shippings involving literal FICTIONAL CHARACTERS! -and last time I checked... going to the levels of not just trying to manipulate people into thinking that Vivienne is a "perfect little lamb" to gaslight people into not looking into how she treats her staff- but also THREATENING VIOLENCE over the fact that someone was actually honest about what was happening in Spindlehorse- Isnt exactly what i'd like to call "good treatment" of your staff since Vivienne let you do this to people. Hell- is- IS THIS EVEN ALLOWED ON TWITTER?! Is it even allowed for people on the platform to threaten to hurt someone on Twitter in their guidelines, hell, is it even legal to threaten to hurt someone like this at all?! Especially if it's being used to threaten people into not speaking out about actual workplace mistreatment?!

HOLY SHIT! Just let these people tell you that you need to do better, and going to the levels of threatening to hit someone for critiqueing Vivienne for her behavior even once and then going out of your way to call them "GLASS JAWED MOTHER FUCKERS!" is genuine hostility and honestly, I dont even think it's even legal to verbally harass and threaten people to this extent. WHAT THE FUCK?!

I looked into this and... yeah! What Monica did was against Twitter guidelines by threatening to hit people who were in the studio that said anything about how Viv was actually acting.

I also checked to make sure, but.... yeah, she actually wanted to hit people for saying that Vivienne was overworking her own staff by rushing and also having to work full day jobs despite Helluva Boss continuisly ranking in millions of dollars. Which means that they were getting a small percentage of pay compared to what ends up being used for Vivziepop's "spectacle!" animation. So this isn't just acephobia, but also threatening genuine violence towards people for saying that they don't deserve to be mistreated. This is vile.

Hell, even without those guidelines- it's disgusting that Vivienne let her staff talk to people this way and then also mistreated Spindlehose for all these years too. NO ONE deserves to be treat this way for speaking out, especially if all they're doing is saying what happened to them in a studio that they worked in, and the fact that everyone demonizes Erin Frost for a few mistakes but then lets Vivziepop's "favorites" threaten to HIT SOMEONE is actually horrifying.

Honestly.

Helluva Boss isnt even "INDIE" anymore, it just fills up space in the indie community while clearly being a million dollar, mainstream show that has Norman Reedus and other celebrities in it to give the "We're indie so we can do what we want just because we're smaller than Disney!" excuse to be assholes to other people for even saying something as simple as "tone down the saturation a bit."

It's a monopoly. A monopoly built on years of breaking trust, threats, more bullying, betrayal, prioritizing in fame over indie creators, worker mistreatment, rushed projects, fanbase manipulation, and it's why I have so much faith in Lackadaisy. It gives me hope, it gives me hope that one day Vivienne will finally get told to "WAKE UP!" through all that's been happening. That the monopoly will end, that the indie industry will become more balanced again, that freelance artists will be treated better and receive more respect for their craft instead of just being used to meet corperate demands. That hope... is why, that though I like Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, that I also wish for other creators to get the spotlight and that one day... maybe... just maybe... that a new franchise will take Helluva Boss's place.

So to answer your question:

Yes. By defintion Helluva Boss has become a monopoly. It's taking a large chunk of the indie animation industry, and the creators overworked their staff to meet high demands for it to get trending almost every year through high amounts of demand and episodes in 2021 alone. It's taken a large amount of control over the industry and it's come to a point where creators have to rely on supporting Vivziepop to even get a piece of what HB has. Honestly, how is that fair? How is it "fair" to overwork her staff and appeal to even the bottom of the barrels of trends to keep her show trending while most of the other indie shows on Youtube suffer for it?!

It's making the indie animation community almost as corperate as the very companies that caused these people to steer towards indie animation in the first place. Which is such a shame, because there's so many good projects out there- yet to be discovered by most people. -and yet HB gets the trending almost every time because it appeals to as many mainstream trends and porn accounts as possible through all it's fetish and ship bait content and mass amounts of merchandising, and from mass amounts I mean HUNDREDS OF PIECES OF MERCHANDISING every year, even after the show already has 40+ million dollars in it's budget so it's just capitalism and mainstream pandering at this point. The indie community went from going against corperations and capitalism to BECOMING corperate and capitalistic.

It makes me miss back when all we had mostly were just fun short films and play dough animations. It's like people in the indie community have forgotten why we even make all these animations in the first place.. Not just for money and sucess....

But for fun, to animate away from corperations... for fun.

[trashbag-baby666]

It’s Always Been Just Him and Me-Buck/Bucky

Summary: Buck keeps needing an out from his dates and Bucky is always a call away.

WC: 3,430

C/W: Bucky says a slur, mentions of drug use (weed), slight mentions of Bucky having an ED.

MOTA Masterlist!

Buck felt as if he was finally able to breath as he opened the door of Bucky's car. He was finally free of Curt’s strawberry vape and Nicki Minaj’s Pink Friday Two blasting through the speakers.

Truth be told he would rather be stuck in the car than having to go inside on this date. Buck always had a hard time telling people no, one of his downfalls. So when this girl from school kept asking out Buck and he finally had given in. He knew it was going to be awkward and uncomfortable.

“Goodluck, Buck!” Curt clapped him on the shoulder as he got out of the back to get in the front.

“Remember don’t fuck on the first date.” Bucky leaned over to the open door to look at him, “If it goes bad you can give me a call. I’m gonna take Curt to work then just drive around till you’re done.”

This was something that happened a lot, almost like a pattern Buck could recognize. Giving into someone asking him on a date, he’d go and get uncomfortable and text Bucky to call him so he could leave.

“You need any?” Curt opened up his wallet showing Buck the condoms tucked in by the dollar bills.

“You just carry those with you?” Buck furrowed his eyebrows looking down at Curt.

“You don’t?”

“No…?”

“Your loss,” Curt chuckled and elbowed Bucks side, “Have fun though, really.”

“I’ll try my best,” Buck clenched his teeth sucking in a breath nervously, his hands jammed into his jacket pockets. He was weighing his options of just jumping back into Bucky's car and telling him to drive away like this was a crime.

But then he remembered then he’d have to come up with some story of why he couldn’t make it. Sorry my bird died? Sorry Bucky got a flat tire and we were stuck on the side of the road? But then he’d have to defend his answer of why Bucky was giving him a ride and he wasn’t just taking himself there. So into the shitty Olive Garden he went taking one last glance at the silver SUV as he opened the door going in.

Bucky was serenading his heart out to All American Bitch as he drove down the ‘speed bump road’ gunning down on the gas pedal everytime he hit one. He was almost expecting it as his music stopped and the obnoxious ringtone came through. Bucky quickly picked his phone up from the cup holder. “Well it's been almost 20 minutes. Are you ready for me to come back?”

“Please, I’m hiding in the bathroom.”

“That bad?”

“That bad.”

“Alright, I just dropped Curt off. I'll call you back when I'm in the parking lot.” Bucky sighed as he hung up and whipped an illegal U turn at a stoplight. Waving his hand a little as a car honked at him.

Buck sat at the table keeping his eyes focused on the half eaten, stale breadstick in front of him. He was uncomfortable and could feel the girl's eyes on him, his heart skipped a beat as his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Buck scrambled for his phone out of his bomber jacket.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetie, it's your grandma. I fell while fetching myself some candy and I was wondering if you’d come help me up.” Buck turned red as he heard Bucky's voice on the other end putting on his best female voice. But alas he played along with it because this certainly was not the first time this happened. One time Bucky went as far as coming into the restaurant and saying that his dog got out. When the girl offered to help Bucky blurted out ‘oh he hates women’ then tugged Buck right out of the situation.

“Of course Grandma, I’ll be there soon, I love you, bye.” Buck hung up fast and met the girl's worried green eyes, “I gotta go, my grandma fell and I gotta help her up. But I’ll text you when I get home?”

“Oh yeah, sure I had a good time.” The girl with the auburn hair smiled awkwardly as Buck got up and set a $10 bill on the table for the waiter. Buck offered a smile before making a beeline for the door.

Bucky sat in his car laughing like a crazy person as Buck walked over and shook his head with a smirk opening the door. “I’m gonna call my actual Grandma next time if you keep doing that.” Buck snickered as he buckled up.

“Oh poor Grandma Ethel will be so disappointed you’re leaving a date with a girl to go play with your best friend.” Bucky teased poking Bucks' side. Buck rolled his eyes, swatting at the others hand, “Maybe she’ll call you a faggot to your face this time.”

Bucky felt the air get a little tense as he glanced over at Buck, he wasn’t wrong by any means. His grandparents were very active in the church and it was true his grandma had called him that

“Well did you get a chance to eat?” Bucky glanced over at him as they came up on a red light.

“No, I kept stalling so I could leave.” Buck shrugged, “I don’t like pasta.”

And Bucky could’ve told him that.

“I know, well do you wanna get something? I don’t necessarily want to go home tonight.”

And Buck knew what that meant, his parents were probably fighting again.

“Yes please, I’m starving.” Buck had finally become aware of the grumbling in his stomach and remembered the two joints in his pocket.

“Well where do you wanna go?” Bucky knew the answer as soon as he looked over at Buck. His head leaned back against the headrest that stupid guilty smirk on his face.

“Jesus christ,” Bucky rolled his eyes as he took the next turn back in the other direction, “But I am not eating that.”

“I’ll pay for your food?” Buck smirked, but Bucky knew that was just a ploy to get him to eat. So if he was going to eat he was going to get something he enjoyed.

“No, I’m getting Taco Bell.” Bucky shook his head as they turned into the Chik Fil A parking lot. It was Buck's favorite, guilty pleasure food and even if Bucky didn’t agree with that he was here to make Buck happy.

“Are you going to do your Grandma Ethel impression again?” Buck asked as they pulled into the Taco Bell drive thru.

“Should I sing instead?”

“No.”

“Fine.”

“Welcome to Taco Bell, order when you’re ready.” Curts voice came through the speaker full of annoyance that certainly made this a hundred times funnier to Bucky.

Bucky cleared his throat, “Hello can I get two doritos-”

“Locos tacos, nacho fries and a large baja blast freeze?” Curt finished his order.

“How do you know every damn time!?” Bucky grumbled as they pulled up to the window.

“So the date didn’t go well?” Curt asked as he snatched Buckys card from him looking over at Buck. He also knew just as well as Bucky that Buck didn’t like these girls; he just felt bad saying no.

“No, I think I really should just stop going on dates.”

“Or maybe you can take me out for a nice meal!” Bucky put his hand on his chest smiling his cheesy smile, “Since you always end up back in my car eating your stupid Christian chicken sandwich.”

“Take us both out for a nice dinner. If I have to eat fucking Taco Bell for dinner one more fucking time. I’m gonna fucking lose my shit.” Curt grumbled as he handed the card back. Curt knew if he didn’t eat at work though he’d probably go hungry for the night. He didn’t come from much money and he worked to help keep a roof over his mother and little brother's head.

“Hey who are we mind fucking?” Dickie poked his head around the corner from the kitchen.

“Dickie!” Bucky cheered unbuckling and basically leaned his entire body inside the window.

“What’s up? Oh my god it’s Buck and Fuck!” Dickie jogged over to the window shouldering Curt out of the way, “Hambone!”

“The whole team is here I see,” Bucky snickered as the other blonde came over, “This place wouldn’t run without you guys.”

“Yeah, literally our manager quit this morning. So yeah Curts in charge of the evening shifts.” Hambone clapped him on the shoulder then took his hat running off to the front.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Curt grumbled, “Would love to continue our conversation but I gotta go play fuckin’ boss.”

“Enjoy it, Curt. Make them your bitches!” Bucky laughed as he took the drink and bag of food from him, handing it off to Buck.

“Now get the hell out of my drive thru!”

“Love you too Curt!” Buck yelled as Bucky drove off.

“That place would burn to the ground without him. Dickie would leave something somewhere and walk away from it next thing you know the best Taco Bell around exploded.” Bucky laughed as he made an exploding sound popping his lips.

“Maybe, or they could hire a competent adult to manage it.” Buck shook his head as he chewed on the straw of his drink.

“But what's the fun in that? Think about how funny it is to hear that Taco Bell is run by three high school boys who barely know their left from their right.”

“This is the economy we live in now.” Buck shook his head, “Are we going to the usual? I got some joints with me?”

“Yep, do you wanna smoke first or eat?” Bucky hummed as he pulled into the big empty parking lot of what once was a KMart. This had become their spot of escaping Bucks dates and eating shitty fast food and just talking.

“Eat, I’m too hungry.” Buck unbuckled his seatbelt and moved his seat back, getting comfortable.

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky shrugged as he turned the car off and Buck was finally able to have a break of what had been Nicki Minaj song after song. Bucky reached over the center console and grabbed his Taco Bell bag off the floor.

“So what were the fatal flaws of this girl, Buck?” Bucky asked while fishing a taco from the bag.

She wasn’t you.

“I don’t know, she just kept talking about herself. I don’t know, I only said yes to her because I felt bad saying no.” Buck couldn’t explain to anyone in particular why he never was really interested in women. Sure he’s had his fair amount of sexual encounters and lots of kissing with them. He thought it was just because he hadn’t met the right one. “And yeah I know I need to learn to say no it’s just hard.”

“I’m not used to being the level headed reasonable one here, but it’s not fair to you or the girls.” Buck knew that Bucky was making sense and he had fallen into some alternative universe where Buck and Bucky swapped bodies.

“I know this is weird for me, it’s like Freaky Friday.” Buck just wanted to get off the topic of his botched dates. He just wanted to enjoy his chicken sandwich and smoke a joint with his best friend.

“I’m gonna be Jamie Lee Curtis then, you can be Lindsey.”

“I’m too sober to think about this.” Buck set his half eaten sandwich down and pulled the small plastic tube out of his pocket.

“You used the pink paper I got you?” Bucky perked up excited seeing the two joints with the pink wrapping paper.

“Why wouldn’t I? Pink makes everything better.” Buck glanced over at Bucky; everything was dark besides a lamp post in the parking lot slightly illuminating the car; Although, Buck believed Bucky's big, silly smile illuminated them. When he looked at him it was just this different feeling, but he didn’t know what that feeling was.

Bucky watched as Buck put the joint between his lips and fought with his lighter to get it to go. But then it lit and he watched as Buck closed his eyes and took a hit waiting a moment before exhaling. “Okay, don’t hit it too hard, okay?”

“I know,” Bucky stuck out his tongue at him like a child and took the pink joint. It never took much to get Bucky high, he rarely smoked and if he did it was with Buck. He’d get fidgety and nervous around others then start to panic the few times he smoked at one of Bucks parties.

Buck took the joint from Bucky fast as he exhaled and the coughing began. Bucky's face turned slightly red as he coughed into his elbow.

“Here, take a drink.” Buck grabbed his water bottle off the floor and opened it for him.

“No, I'm still choking.” Bucky's voice raspy as he continued coughing, opening the door to spit out the nastiness, “Let me have another hit.”

“In a moment, after you drink some water.” Bucky took the water bottle reluctantly, taking a few sips of water and settling himself, “Okay now just take it easy.”

Bucky swapped the metal water bottle for the joint back and took a smaller hit. Buck almost had forgotten his sandwich as he just watched the other. Buck could watch him do anything and be amazed. There were so many football practices or games where he just would get so distracted from just watching Bucky. His large, veiny hands gripped around the football. The way the football pants really accentuated his ass.

“Wow,” Bucky handed the joint back, coming to full realization he was stupid high from three hits. He rubbed his eyes and Buck could see the redness already setting in.

“I’m gonna finish this off now and eat your tacos that Dickie slaved away making for you.” Buck snickered as he relit the joint, “How’d your test go?”

“I dunno, I don’t do fractions, probably not good.” Bucky rambled through his bites of taco, “Do you want some nacho fries?”

“I don’t know how you eat those.” Buck pushed away Bucky's hand that was holding out an orange fry with too much seasoning on it.

“These are so much better than your church fries. Oh my god the body of christ.” Bucky laughed, grabbing onto Buck's shoulder and shaking him a bit, “Listen if these are the body of christ I’m going to start going to church with Croz.”

Both had finished eating and Bucky reclined his seat back, his hands behind his head as he stared out the sunroof, “Do you think we’ll get married someday?”

“What?” Buck felt his heart skip a beat as he reclined his seat back and looked over at Bucky.

“No I mean like…I don’t know I meant like what if by the time we are 30 and were still not married we should marry each other. Like for the benefits you know?”

“Okay,” Buck snickered, “Would we still have a wedding?”

“I think we should, why waste the opportunity. But I don’t think Grandma Ethel would be very supportive of it. She’d probably say something silly about you starting on fire if you ever entered the church again. Would we get married in a church? I don’t think we should…well I guess if you wanted to or well your parents would want maybe? We could go to one of those progressive churches, like the one Croz goes to that has nacho fries communion.” Bucky rambled with no particular thought behind him.

Buck stared blankly at Bucky. He was absolutely gorgeous, his jawline sharp and that silly, goofy smile still spread on his face.

“I think Croz should get ordained too then he can marry us, or maybe by the time 30 were 30. Dogs can be ordained ministers then Meatball can marry us, he can wear a little suit.”

“I don’t know if Meatball will still be around by the time we're 30.”

“I’m telling you he’s a vampire, he’s gonna colonize Mars.” Bucky hummed, “I’m gonna sing at our weddings too you can’t tell me no, what should I sing? Maybe a love song? I got my drivers license last week.” Bucky started singing and Buck reached over cupping his hand over his mouth to shut him up.

Bucky laughed as he pushed off Buck, “Just like we always talked about!”

“I’d rather listen to Croz sing.”

“You’re such a liar I can see it on your face,” Bucky rolled his eyes poking the others cheek and rolled back onto his back and let his hand linger a little before finding Bucks and interlocking their fingers, “So maybe if we're married we could save some more money and buy a house together. I mean we don’t have to share a bed or anything like that but we could maybe get one with the in-laws sweet. I can live in the in-laws sweet, it’ll be like a bachelor pad. Or we could just live in a house with separate rooms I don’t know. Do you think Croz and Bubbles are gonna get married?”

“Definitely do you say the way they look at each other. Everytime Croz sees him his pupils turn into hearts like a cartoon.”

“For sure, Bubbles is probably the best guy to ever be in a relationship with. Croz tells me that he brings him flowers when they go on dates. You know what if they become our neighbors? They would be like a nuclear 50’s couple. Except I don’t think Croz would be a housewife? But I bet they would buy a house together, that's the house next to ours. But they would for sure have like two ankle biters and live this life. Croz would for sure be in the PTA.” He stopped as Buck gently cradled Bucky's face and ran his thumb over his bottom lip gently.

Bucky felt his cheeks turn bright red as he stared into the others beautiful, blue eyes.

He felt the butterflies beginning to slap around in his stomach as Buck leaned over. He could feel Bucks' breath as their lips were dangerously close.

Then his phone began to ring.

“Shit, it’s my mom.” Buck rolled his eyes, sitting up and answering it. Bucky felt like he had lost all the heat and he was cold again. They’d only ever kissed once before. It was while they were high one time out in the woods behind Bucks house. There was a little creek with a small bridge. They were sitting on the bridge and it had just happened. It wasn’t anything long, but Bucky wanted to do it again and again.

“Sorry I lost track of time, I'll be home soon. Okay bye.” Buck let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes, “How’re you feeling? I can drive, it's worn off for me.”

“I’m feeling fine, do you have eye drops? There’s Axe in the glove compartment.

“Only time your nasty boy perfume comes in handy.” Buck handed the eye drops over to Bucky.

“See you’re thanking me now and you’ll thank me later when Mary Cleven doesn’t know you were off smoking weed with me.” Bucky rolled down the windows and dropped the eye drops into his eyes.

“Don’t count on it,” Buck sprayed the air with axe and then himself, “God it reeks of teenage boy.”

“Not all of us can afford Johnny Depp Dior cologne.” Bucky started the car and turned on Drivers License. Look it was stuck in his head

“Goddamnit,” Buck tilted his head into the headrest.

“You know you love it!” Bucky laughed as he began to sing and Buck couldn’t help but sing along with him.

“And I know we weren’t perfect but I’ve never felt this way for no one!” The two sang Bucky with one hand on the steering wheel, the other conducting his imaginary band as they drove back to Bucks. He knew he’d probably get chewed out by his mom but it was worth it in his opinion to get to spend time with Bucky.

Sure they hung out all the time but no one knew him the way Bucky knew him. They had become each other's safe spaces. If Bucky needed away from his parents he could go to Buck.

If Buck needed a break from studying and doing homework all the time he knew who to call. And maybe he could call if he needed a good someone to kiss.

[pomellon]

To add to the centaur au punznap post, Sapnap is also the first person to ride on Punz back, but not due to the best circumstances…

The moment Punz is healed enough to move around freely he does so to his heart's content, and it’s not long thereafter that Sapnap starts challenging him to small sparring fights to help him get used to his mobility again.

Sapnap kind of instantly underestimates him though, thinking Punz can’t be that quick or agile with his larger body, only to instantly be proven wrong when he rushes at him and is simply kicked in the chest. Another go and he’s thrown on his back, Punz’s front hooves stomping down on either side of his head, making him realise just how easily the centaur could crush him if he really wanted to. He stops trying to go easy on him after that, realising Punz most definitely has some battle experience and he needs to actually try if he wants to beat him.

They keep sparring for a couple of weeks, Sapnap figuring out ways to deal with Punz’s strength and reach, while Punz tries to learn to counter Sapnap’s speed and agility. Most days they’re pretty evenly matched, and it’s during a particularly intense sparring session that Sapnap decides to try something new and throws himself on Punz’s back.

The moment he feels the weight on his back Punz panics, way too many memories of humans, bindings, and painful weights being forced on him resurfacing. So he does what most hoofed creatures do when they freak out, he rears and flips over to throw off or crush the threat.

Of course, the moment he connects with the ground and realises Sapnap is the one now squished under him, he instantly rolls back up, now panicked for a completely different reason because holy shit he could have just killed his best friend. Sapnap however, despite his own pain and distress, quickly manages to wheeze out that he’s okay when he senses the dizzying mixed emotions of panic and fear coming from the centaur.

That does very little to reassure the Punz though, and he’s torn over whether to check Sapnap’s injuries or to run back to the farm to get help. They usually spar on a field a bit away from everything for privacy but the trip back isn’t too far, though still long enough that Punz doesn't really want to leave the younger one alone. His worries are soothed a little when Sapnap manages to sit up and assure him it's probably just a broken rib or two, and he will be fine if Punz can go fetch Dream or Sam.

Punz still doesn’t feel all that great leaving Sapnap injured and vulnerable on his own though, so it’s with a pause and slight hesitation that he tells him to get back up on his back. Sapnap is of course also hesitant about this considering what just happened, but when Punz crouches down to make it easier for him to climb on he does so.

The whole way back to the farm Punz fights the urge to buck Sapnap off. He had promised himself over a year ago to never let himself be tamed or controlled like an animal, to never willingly let a human stay on his back, and it takes all his willpower to ensure himself this is something completely different. He’s not being forced into this, Sapnap is not in control of him, and he’s not even a human. Sapnap is just leaning against him with a fist tightly clenched in Punz’s shirt, probably both to hold on and to deal with his pain.

Hannah is the one who spots them when they get closer to the farm, and the moment she realises something is wrong she goes ahead to alert the others. Punz keeps a slow pace both to keep himself calm and to not jostle Sapnap, but when they reach the farm Sam and George are waiting for them. They immediately take and look over Sapnap while Punz goes through a mix of apologising and explaining what happened, not feeling much better despite everyone reassuring him it’s okay and that Sapnap’s has dealt with worse.

There are a few intense days after that where Punz is quiet and on edge, feeling guilty for the whole situation and growing increasingly anxious that the others might quick him out for hurting one of them. His worries are soothed slightly by Sam who keeps up his caretaker routine, checking over Punz’s old injuries and helping him with tasks, assuring him everything will be fine. But it’s not until Sapnap seeks him out again, acting as if nothing happened, that he really starts to relax.

Still, the incident won’t really leave his mind. He's worried about acting on panicked instincts again and hurting someone else, and he’s also concerned his past trauma might make him unable to offer help when needed. What if someone needs to be carried or helped to get away from something? Getting on Punz's back would be a great option, but not if he instinctually tries to buck them off. With this in mind, and determined to work through his past trauma, Punz asks Sapnap for help. 

They start easy at first, just putting some of their equipment on Punz’s back when they leave to spar. It’s not something Punz is unfamiliar with, having carried supplies for his herd in the past, but he’s also been forced to drag heavy weights by humans, so it’s a good start to help get him desensitised. Sapnap also makes a point of always making sure Punz knows he’s the one in control, always asking before he puts something on his back, even if they have agreed to it beforehand. He has Punz confirm before he does anything and if Punz should ever say no he would accept it without asking.

They add more weight over time until eventually Punz asks Sapnap to get up on his back again. They’re both a bit stiff with it at first, Punz hyper-aware of having a person riding him and Sapnap sitting straight-backed and stiff in fear of somehow spooking him, but the more they do it the more they relax. Sapnap starts moving more, moving his hooves over Punz’s flank and scooting furth up or down his back as he talks to him or reaches for things. Punz slowly becomes less aware that someone’s on his back and more aware that it’s Sapnap, someone he trusts.

What started as practice eventually just becomes a part of who they are together. After a full year of growing their friendship and trust in each other, it becomes less common to see Sapnap walking next to Punz and a lot more common to spot him lounging or completely draped over Punz’s back as the centaur goes about his business. 

Punz still feels hesitant when letting others ride him, but the fear and instinct to rear or buck has slowly been soothed away by Sapnap’s familiar weight.

[urimaginespimp]

A Half-naked Nurse and Wrong Ideas.

Bucky x Reader with fever.

Thank you @daredarling for the “you’ve gotten sick and Bucky takes care of you” idea.

——–

You should’ve known better than to race Sam under a thunderstorm last night. Waking up the next morning, you had a massive headache, your muscles felt sore, and you were shivering.

“Miss Y/N, Mr. Barnes says you’re half an hour late in training.” FRIDAY’s voice spoke, making you groan and bring your comforters above you.

“Tell him to fuck off.” you muffled under the sheets.

Barnes… He has been nothing but a pain in the ass to you. To this day, you don’t know what you’ve done for him to dislike you this much. And as if his snarky comments and glares thrown your way wasn’t enough, Steve actually paired you both for missions and trainings.

If he wasn’t so handsome you would’ve cut him already. If Steve allowed you.

Loud bangs hit your door outside. “Y/L/N you’re already 30 minutes late! That’s 5 laps extra for you!” You could hear the irritation lacing his voice.

Maybe if you ignore him long enough, the pest would go away.

“I know you’re in there!” He followed up after you ignored him.

Sighing in annoyance, you got up, with the blankets still wrapped around you, and weakly waddled your way to your door, not bothering to open up your curtains. Opening the door, A frowning Bucky was looking down on you. If you weren’t feeling so shitty, you would’ve snickered at his expression.

“Barnes why are you so obsessed with me?” your cracked voice barely managed to finish asking.

He was observing you from head to toe, noting how pale you are, and shivering under a huge comforter despite that your AC was off.

“You’re stupid.” That was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

“Well, you’re not that sma-”

“Will you shut up and go back to bed? You look like you’re about to drop dead any second now.” He interrupted you, his face still stern with no emotion.

Rolling your eyes, you turned back and weakly made your way back over to bed, pausing to groan as you remembered you forgot to close the door.

“If you’re still there, could you please close the door.” it almost pained you to even be so polite to him but you blame it to being sick.

Finally managing to lie back down, you stared up the ceiling when you heard the door finally shut gently. Sighing, you were about to let sleep take over you when something caught the corner of your eye.

Bucky was by the closed door, taking his shirt off over his head. You let out a shriek. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?!”

“You’re sick.” he replied nonchalantly, while kicking off his shoes, leaving him in his sweatpants and socks.

“And taking off your clothes is supposed to make me feel better?!” you were trying to support yourself with your elbow, facing his way. “And I meant that you close the door before leaving.”

“I don’t want to die of heat while taking care of you.” he replied in a duh tone before entering your bathroom to fetch some warm water in a basin.

You were still trying to process what he was getting at when he finally went back out, now basin with steaming water in hand.

“You got a clean towelette I can use?” has asked as he placed the basin on the foot of your bed.

“Yeah, it’s by the third dra- what the hell are you doing again?” you caught yourself as he was opening your drawers. “Because if you’re trying to kill me, doing it while I’m defenseless is just beneath you.”

“Didn’t think your IQ could get any lower but you’re sick so I’ll let this pass.” He rolled his eyes before soaking the cloth on the water. “I’m nursing you. Now lay flat and still so the cloth won’t fall off that forehead of yours.” he instructed, again sounding so casual.

You followed his orders before realizing that this whole ordeal was still very weird. “I’m sorry, I still don’t get why you’re doing this.”

He went by your head and placed the cloth on your forehead, making you sigh at the warmth it brought your chilling form. “Steve will have my head if he finds out I knew you’re sick and let you die.”

You stared at him deadpan.

“And partners are supposed to be taking care of each other.” he muttered, making the side of your mouth twitch.

“If you tell anyone I said that I’ll kill you.” he lightly threatened when he noticed your mouth twitch.

“Fair enough. And I should probably tell you that I’m prone to get mentally confused when I have fevers which is a normal symptom, but just letting you know in case I start saying something nice.” you chuckled.

He went over your mini fridge and opened a bottle of water to drink.

You look at him, noticing that he was starting to sweat a lot from the heat. His skin was glistening making you mentally kick yourself from staring.

“You got underwear?” you found yourself asking, making him choke on his drink.

“What?”

“I-I’m just saying i-if you’re that hot, you can just take off your sweatpants and I won’t mind.”

“You’re saying I’m hot?” he chuckled, having fun twisting your words, making you flush. “Hey, color’s back on your face. Maybe I should get you all flustered more.” he teased further.

“Shut up Barnes, I meant that the room’s too hot for you because the AC is off. You’re sweating like a pig.”

“Save the excuses, Y/N. You won’t mind if I’ll just be in my boxers?” he smirked at you as he took his socks off and started working on untying the strings of his sweats.

“Puh-lease, Barnes, it may come as a shock to you, but I’ve seen enough men in boxers. You’re not that…”

You trailed off what you were going to say when you noticed that this was a different kind of boxers. Why were they so tight?

You thought he meant boxer shorts, not boxer briefs. Dammit.

“I’m not that…?” He asked.

“I forgot. Fever brain.” You shrugged, diverting your eyes away from him. “Anyway, why are you so nice to me? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” He contradicts, placing his hands on his hips.

“Uh, yeah you do.” you paused to let out a cough. “You always make fun of me or provoke me in front of everyone else.”

“And how do I treat you when we’re alone, especially in missions?” he raised his brows at you, expecting that you’ll put two and two together.

“A lot nicer actually.” You muttered.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that the team keeps insisting I have a crush on you.” he scratched the back of his head.

“That’s ridiculous. Why would they even think that?” you chuckled.

“It’s Sam’s fault. He tricked me.”

“What?”

“He was being all hypothetical, saying what if I was only allowed to date someone from the team and who would I choose. And I uh… may have said I’d choose you. And everyone else heard.” He muttered the last part, embarrassed.

It was your turn to smirk at him. “And why me?”

“Stop that. You look like a smirking corpse.” he snapped at you defensively and cleared his throat. “It’s just that you were actually really nice to me when we met. Didn’t feel like you were masking apprehensiveness like everybody did when I first got here.”

“Sounds like you have a crush on me.” you had the courage to tease him, seeing how flustered he got from telling the story.

“This is not how you treat your nurse, Y/N.”

“Yeah, a nurse in his underwear. Very ethical. And I’m not your supervisor, but I think brooding is not advisable.”

“And now as your nurse, I would advise you to quit talking and get some sleep.”  he playfully glared at you. “I’ll be by the chair to constantly check on your temperature and replace the cloth on your forehead.”

“I really appreciate what you’re doing, Barnes. I’m starting to think the team’s right.”

“Ma’am flirting with patients and vice versa is frowned upon. Now sleep.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

——–

While you were finally snoozing for over an hour, gentle knocks were heard on your door.

Standing up from his chair, Bucky quickly made his way over the door to prevent more knocks from disturbing your sleep, forgetting that he was still only in his boxer briefs.

Opening it slowly, he was met with three pairs of wide eyes belonging to Steve, Sam, and Nat.

“Hey you guys, could you keep it down? Y/N is getting some rest.”

“Uhuh… I bet she needs it.” Sam replied slowly, still wide-eyed, noting how Bucky’s slightly sweaty.

“So… when did this happen?” It was Steve’s turn to speak up.

“Oh, just this morning. She was running late and I came here with the intention of punishing her for it but I ended up taking care of her.” He explained in a low voice, still oblivious to how their teammates were getting a totally different idea.

“Woah.” Nat muttered under her breath.

“Yeah, I guess her muscles are all sore because she was moving so weakly, and her voice is all hoarse now when she talks, and -”

“Look we’re happy for you, but TMI, Buck! TMI.” Steve cut him off and the three of them scrambled away from your room, with Sam muttering he didn’t need the unwelcomed visuals, and Nat screaming for Wanda.

Now left alone and confused by the doorway, he was trying to figure out why they reacted that way when it finally clicked.

“Fuck.” he whisper-yelled, knowing that the teasing was about to get worse.

——–

Final Part

Permanent tag list: @lizzarooni

Marvel Masterlist

[shurisneakers]

harmless (additional scene #3)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, mention of violence, alcohol, obnoxious flirting, and feels lol

Word count: 6.8k

A/N: hello hi hello! we back! how are we all doing? thank you to @notsochillnerd​ for the inator and theme for this chapter! Also Harmless Mini Drabbles are a thing now so you can head on over there for more nonsense :))

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

“Steve.”

“No.”

“Steve,” Bucky is on the verge of pleading. “C’mon, man.”

“I can’t take you off the mission, Buck.”

“Just next week, I swear.” Bucky puts his hand up in an oath. “I’ll make up for it.”

“There’s no one who can do it next week,” Steve maintains, even though he sounds mildly apologetic.

“Clint can.”

“Clint’s had two concussions and broke his arm”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

Steve just arches his brows, unimpressed. Bucky sighs, shooting off a quick ‘sorry’ under his breath.

Was he really, though?

The elevator sounds off a ding on their floor, doors opening. FRIDAY greets the both of them as usual, receiving one back in unison.

“You’ve never bailed like this before.” Steve presses the button for the basement. “What’s going on?”

“She’s got this evil convention happening in town next week that she’s been dying to go to,” Bucky explains, chin tilted up to watch the numbers flashing on the little monitor as the elevator descended. “I said I’d be there.”

“An evil convention,” Steve repeats, although it’s not too far-fetched of an idea.

“She’s barely evil, who cares.” He waves it off quickly. “Just let her buy some merch.”

“Why are you going?”

The truth was that it sounded like fun. What you read off the pamphlet managed to excite the little nerd who lived in the corner of his mind.

But as a superhero and chosen good-doer, he couldn’t exactly say that, so-

“Assessing potential threats. I said I’d go undercover,” he bullshits, but not entirely untruthful. “Also those weirdos who kidnapped her might be there, so it’s technically SHIELD business too.”

The elevator comes to a stop at the common room floor.

Bucky rolls his eyes instinctively when the doors open to a cast-wearing, dark bruise around one eye-having Clint. He grins toothily at them through a busted lip.

No one had any idea how he got them. He wasn’t even on a mission; just showed up one day with unexplained injuries and a bottle of tequila.

“Look, it’s fuckin’ Blackeye,” Bucky quips, making space for him.

“It’s still Hawkeye, you dickhead.” Clint purposely takes another step back, forcing Bucky into the corner.

“No one cares.”

“Bet I’m still a better shot than you, Jim.”

“Lotta talk for someone who can’t even hold a gun straight.” Bucky’s eyes dart towards his cast. Dark squiggles decorated it. Clint called them drawings. Bucky called them ugly.

Clint struggles against the plaster, clamping down on his lip in concentration. It takes a while before Bucky realises he’s trying to flip him the middle finger. He fails and Bucky’s smugness makes a return.

“Today’s Valentine's Day,” Steve points out, shifting the conversation before one of them ended up getting thrown down the elevator shaft.

“Yeah, the six thousand flowers in the living room gave that away,” Clint wasn’t wrong. Bucky could smell the hydrangeas for at least three floors.

“At least Tony’s doing something. What are your plans for today?”

“Thought I’d take Tasha out. There’s this new underground fighting ring that opened downtown, she’d love it.”

No one comments. It’s all blank stares and dead silence.

Clint scoffs. “Like you two have never done anything illegal in your lives.”

“What about you?” Steve turns to his best friend, hoping he had a saner, less criminal idea.

“World saving.” Bucky’s eyes dart up to the ceiling again, body now set against the railing.

“What about after that?”

Greasy pizza and the Terminator movies because the stupid team wouldn’t stop calling him that.

Bucky just raises his shoulders and drops it carelessly.

“Now that’s just sad,” Clint states and Bucky’s jaw grinds. “You haven’t been on a date since what, the Cold War?”

“I’m a little rusty on which year it was,” he says dryly. “Guess I’ll just have to ask your mom-”

“Alright,” Steve interrupts.

Clint stifles a laugh. Bucky does the same with a smile.

The eighty or so floors are a disadvantage when you’re stuck in a metal box with an idiot who didn't care much for his safety, and Clint.

“How come you ain’t asked her out yet?” The latter asks.

“Who?” Bucky peers up from the floor.

“You’re about as dumb as you look if you need me to explain who I’m talkin’ about, Barnes.”

“Heard you only got two concussions, Barton. We can make it three.”

Steve sighs.

“Ask her out,” Clint continues relentlessly like it was his business in the first place.

“No.” Maybe he would have thought of doing it, but now that someone was telling him to do it, he wasn't going to. Out of spite.

“You’ve been seeing her every week for nearly a year,” he rattles on without any regard for his life. “You have no other friends, you don’t have anything resembling a social life.”

“I have friends.”

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

“The team,” Bucky says, a tick in his voice.

“That’s funny.” Clint snickers. “We’re bein’ serious, Barnes, quit playing around.”

Asshole.

“Whose floor is this?” Steve is grateful when it opens to the common room and its newly established flower garden.

“Mine, Cap.” Clint takes a step forward. “I’ll let you know if you have to come bail us out at any point tonight.”

“You’re on your own, Barton.” The corner of Steve’s mouth curls upwards in amusement.

Clint lifts one shoulder in a half shrug before the door closes on him.

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Steve shoots a glance at Bucky.

“He literally always is,” Bucky deadpans. “There is not one situation in which he is even remotely correct.”

Steve pauses. “Fair.”

Bucky hooks his thumbs into the pocket of his jeans, choosing to remain in the corner even though there was ample space to move around. “Where are you taking T?”

“I have no idea,” Steve admits, glancing up. “She planned this one out.”

“Ah.”

Bucky had lost track of the number of times Steve had met with her in the last two months. Every second day he’d creep out of the tower, bashful when he came back to questions and relentless teasing about the newest pictures circulating Twitter. Turns out you were right. T kept him on his toes and somehow, it was exactly the guy needed.

“How was your date last week?” Steve pulls out of memory instead. Bucky had hoped it had withered and died, but no such luck.

“T’was okay.” For the most part, whenever the guy managed to tear his eyes away from his phone to even look at him. “I don’t think I’ll be seein’ him again.”

“Didn’t you go on a second date with the other one? Jem?”

“In love with her best friend.” She was nice, though. “Kicked my ass at bowling too.”

Steve gives a small exhale in exchange for a laugh. “You’re clearly not interested, so why do you keep going?”

Bucky doesn’t know. He established long ago that dates weren’t his thing, the idea of meeting a stranger and just hitting it off wouldn’t work with someone as heavy a background as him. His trust just didn’t function that way.

“Ask her out,” Steve says again when he doesn’t answer.

“Steve.”

“Don’t bother lying to me. You’re fuckin’ terrible at it.”

Maybe it was time to get new friends. A hundred-odd years and counting seemed too long to have someone around.

“She’s evil,” he protests weakly.

The captain snorts. “Convenient.”

“Hold on.” Bucky has a revelation at the same time the elevator doors open with the same ding. “You can replace me.”

He’s got him there.

“I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not. You have nothing scheduled.” Bucky narrows his eyes. “You willin’ to let your best friend walk into the jaws of death with a bunch of people who don’t care about him?”

Steve claps him on his back. “Absolutely.”

A few years ago that would have worked.

“Punk,” Bucky mumbles.

“Jerk,” Steve replies on instinct. Bucky smirks. “If it wasn’t next week, I’d have done it, but I got a dinner reservation.”

“Can’t you have dinner once you’re back?” At the entrance of the garage, he can see the silhouette of a bike and its owner straddling it. “‘S not like the restaurant’s going anywhere.”

“I can’t cancel this one, Buck. Sorta important,” his friend doesn’t explain more but Bucky doesn’t bother asking either since T soon comes into view.

“Hey, Bucky.” She hands Steve a helmet.

“Hey T.” Bucky comes to a stop a few feet away. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good.” T waits for Steve to climb on behind her. He does so, but not before giving her a small kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for lending me your nunchucks. Absolutely killed at the party.”

“Don’t mention it.” He sends her a smile. “Make sure he’s home early, he starts feelin’ drowsy at six. Old people problems.”

“We’re the same age, asshole,” Steve states and T just chuckles.

“Duly noted.” She starts the engine. “See you around.”

“Think about what I said,” Steve calls out, pulling his helmet over his head and buckling it.

Bucky presses his lips together. “No.”

He doesn’t have time to see Steve react when T pulls out of the garage.

The lair’s lit up in pink. As it should be.

If he looks closely, the giant glass pillars have heart-shaped bubbles floating through them, which physically should be impossible but he stopped questioning all this months ago. If you wanted heart shaped bubbles, you were going to get heart shaped bubbles.

“Y/N,” he says simply, hand holding onto his backpack. There was a stop he had to make before he landed up here, making him a little later than usual. “How long have you been up there?”

“Irrelevant,” you shout from atop the rising circular stage in the centre of the room. “Did you wear red on purpose today?”

He looks down at his henley and jeans. “Sure.”

“I can’t believe you’re in costume and I’m not.” Your jaw drops.

He’s about to comment on how this isn’t a costume but you clap twice and the lights go off. A spotlight shines down on you. Even your outfit’s different- a bright sequin jacket and ruffles and things he doesn’t even know the names of.

You look like a whole Elton John concert.

“Mr Barnes.” There’s a small head mic near your mouth. “Pick a number from 1 to 3.”

“For what?” He halts near the base of the stage so you can hear him better.

You grin, arms spread wide. “I’m about to serenade you.”

“Please don’t.” He likes the bright pink glasses you’ve got on. He kind of wants a pair.

“It’s imperative that I do,” you insist. “I found this great song by Outkast that you’d fuckin’ hate.”

“I’m sure you did.” He holds out his hand. “But if you sing to me, I’m leaving.”

“Bore.” You give in rather quickly, using his grip as balance to hop off the stage. “Won’t even let me seduce you on the most romantic day of the year.”

You clap twice and all the lights return back to normal, the spotlight disappearing.

“You sure ‘bout that?” He raises an eyebrow. “All this glitter’s really working for you.”

“You got a sparkle fetish, Barnes?” Still, you shrug off the waistcoat lined with rhinestones. “All this flirting and you still won’t make out with me behind the church.”

“I was raised properly.”

“Bullshit.” You pull the top hat off your head. “I’ll get you there someday.”

“You can try.”

You applaud two more times. This time when the lights turn off and on again, you’re back in your civilian clothes, a notably substantial lack of feathers and sequins.

“Also, spill it,” Bucky adds as an afterthought, trailing behind you as you take the steps up to the platform where the cabinets and TV screens were.

“Spill what?”

“Where T’s taking Steve.”

“Bucky Barnes, you are a gossip.” You chortle and he just smiles. “What’s next on the old man schedule, Bingo Night?”

“Show some respect, you’re talkin’ to the three time district champ here,” he bites back.

“The ladies at the retirement home must throw themselves at you.”

“Yeah, got a date lined up with one of ‘em right after this.”

“When’s it gonna be my turn, huh?” you huff playfully. “T’s taking him white water rafting, and then they’re getting ice cream.”

Cute.

“Did y’know they aren’t official yet?” You lean against the table for a casual conversation in the middle of evil-doing.

“He hasn’t asked already?” Hypocrite. Every single piece of advice and learning Bucky had given Steve 80 years ago was useless. The man had no game.

What a loser.

“No, not yet.” You pull out a box by its handles. “She isn’t making a move because she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so it’s really in his court now.”

It suddenly occurs to him why next week’s dinner may be such a huge, un-cancellable thing. Interesting.

Bucky lifts his head towards you instead. “What’s the plan for today?”

You hit the table lightly, pushing yourself off it. “You know Fury, right?”

“No.”

“Okay, so Fury’s not authorising one of my plans-” You put aside his sarcasm “-and so I can’t build my inator.”

“I don’t remember that ever stopping you in the past.” The incident with the giant raccoons drunk on crab apples is one that pops up in his mind.

“True, but I miss him. He’s been ignoring my calls,” you whine. “I even tweeted at the SHIELD Twitter handle and they blocked me.”

Bucky’s not surprised.

“So, I’m going to convince him.” You spin around to yank open a drawer, announcing loudly, “Behold!”

There’s a series of arrows, at least ten, in a box. Shades of pink, red and orange, with feathery ends and shafts engraved with small little swirls.

“You're gonna hunt him,” he says casually.

“No, Jesus Christ.” You scoff, reeling back. “Cupid’s Arrows. I’m gonna get him to fall in love with me for three minutes so he’ll authorise my plan to make a Disintegrator-inator.”

“These make someone fall in love with you?” He watches you pick up one of the obnoxious little buggers.

“More like an intense crush, not love,” you elucidate, jutting your lip out in thought, “and it doesn’t hurt, just kinda dissolves the minute it makes contact with skin. Point is, he’ll be so enamoured that he’ll let me build whatever I want.”

“Right.” He gives a short nod. “I could break ‘em right now and make sure you don’t.”

“You always say this, but you never do.” You hold an arrow out like a sword. “Some might say you secretly like these plans.”

He plucks it out of your hand and snaps it in half like a twig. “Some might be morons.”

You gasp, pulling the box away from him. He pulls it back.

There’s a glaring match incoming, he can feel it. Memories of the last time he argued with you over a box resurfaces, so he promptly puts an end to it before it even begins, retracting his hand.

“Ain’t really your thing, though,” he comments. “Is it?”

You click your tongue. “You know me too well. I’m asking for a replacement.”

Like you’d be able to live with that decision for even a day.

“I wasn’t actually going to use it. Isn’t really ethical.” You look at them. “But they’re pretty.”

He gives a small sound in agreement, picking one up to examine it. “They’re working models?”

“I’d never bring you fakes, baby. They’re as real as my love for you.” You grin when he rolls his eyes at you. He flicks his wrist back and forth slowly, testing the stiffness. “They’re very strong, Bucky, don’t.”

“You’re the only person here.” They were actually pretty well made, from what knowledge he had of archery.

“Yeah, and if that hits me then I’ll be in love with myself,” you say like it’s obvious. “What are you gonna do once you have to compete for my love?”

“Given how fucking obsessed you are with me, I don’t think it’ll be too much of a fight.” He pricks the tip of his finger, ignoring your yelp.

You were right, the second it touches his skin it wastes away into a pile of glitter that vanishes before it reaches the ground.

You grimace, watching him through one open eye for a reaction.

He raises an eyebrow, flipping his hand back and forth. The world still turns but nothing feels out of the ordinary.

Bucky looks at you. “I don’t think it works.”

“Idiot.” You let out a breath, dragging the box away from him again but this time he doesn’t contest it. He was a workplace hazard if you had ever seen one. “That just confirms my other theory.”

“What theory?” His eyebrows pull together as another thought crosses his mind swiftly.

“That you-” you poke his chest. Rock hard pecs are more of a strain on your finger than any part of him. “-don’t have a heart.”

“Thanks.” It comes out a bit distant, more focused on the fact that he has a different theory altogether. 

“Moving on,” you announce, halting when he looks at you questioningly. “What, you think I was going to stop there?”

He didn’t.

“Go on.”

“You know that bar downtown-” You gesture with your finger in its general direction “-the one that’s whole shtick is being rude to your face?”

“No?” He tries jogging his memory to see if anything comes up.

“Yeah, well, you enter the premises and they call you a bitch,” you say. “So that’s that.”

Great.

“The world’s gotten nicer,” he grunts. “What about it?”

“They have this Valentine’s Day deal going. If they think you’re cute, they’ll give you free drinks for the evening.” It's endearing, he thinks, how excited you look. “They’re known for turning everyone down for the past few years, it’s supposed to be a real humbling experience.”

“You could use a few of those.” Bucky nods in approval.

“Anyway,” you ignore his comment, speaking loudly. “I thought of the most brilliant plan.”

He presumes the glow that emanates from the next box you pull out from the drawer has something to do with it.

“So I did my research.” You have one hand paused on the rim for suspense. “Really dug into the whole ‘Love is blind’ concept.”

Bucky waits for you to continue.

“Yeah, so blah, blah, science stuff. Essentially, they’ll only have a vague idea of what we look like, but they’re gonna love it.” This seems like too much effort for some stupid bar. “And then we get free drinks.”

“What’s that, a glowstick?” He makes a mention to the light.

“Behold,” you exclaim for the second time that day, “a halo-disguise-inator.”

It’s a large ring, just slightly bigger than your hand. It isn’t as bright as he expected it to be, but you toss it up into the air and almost instantly it fixes itself a few inches above your head, seemingly just floating.

“I’m not wearin’ that,” he remarks instantly. Maybe if it were the sunglasses he’d have a different opinion.

“Why not?” You pout. “I made you one in pink.”

“Feel like I’m in Vegas. You look like a neon sign.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “You have no sense of drama.”

“Maybe a billboard.” He tilts his head. “Do you think you’ll attract moths?”

“I hate you so much,” you groan. “It doesn’t attract insects, you motherfucker.”

“You got wings to go with this?” he puts forth seriously. “How about a bow?”

“I do have a bow.” You glare at him. “I made it for the arrows but my aim is shit.”

“You got the whole ‘fit then.” Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. “But other than makin’ eyes bleed, this isn’t evil.”

“Ah.” You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, wagging a finger. “Trickery and illusion.”

He has to control the urge to equate you with Thor’s brother, but reminding you about Loki would just bring up the whole cape conversation and he just didn’t have the energy to argue with you about that again.

“You’re supposed to think I look great.” You sigh, tweaking the position of the lightbulb-substitute hanging over your head. “Bet your serum has something to do with this.”

He opens his mouth to awkwardly contest this, only to have you cut him off.

“C’mon, we gotta get there before rush hour,” you urge, gesturing for him to hurry up.

“Why do I have to come?” The idea of an overcrowded place with people being pricks to him is usually what he calls home.

“You think I’m going to be seen day-drinking alone?” You narrow your eyes at him. “Fuck no. We’re both going.”

“I can't get drunk.” You knew that, but he still reiterates it.

“You can have a Piña colada anyway.” That's an offer that sounds good enough not to refuse. “Apparently they make the best ones in town.”

Bucky swings his bag over his shoulder. “What if your plan doesn't work?”

“If worst comes to worst-” You point to the box of arrows “-we still have those.”

He reaches over and snaps another one.

You whack his arm. He grins.

The bar’s clearly one of the trendier ones on the block, its reputation preceding it. Regardless of the fact that it was one in the afternoon, a line was starting to form. Bucky had no doubt it would only grow further as the day went on.

“No one’s talkin’ to each other,” he observes, the line eerily devoid of life. Most of them were just peering into their phones.

“If they think you’re single, you have a better chance.” You count how many people are left in front of you. “People’ve been trying to cheat the system for years. Everyone’s got a strategy.”

“This is so stupid,” he mumbles. “Don’t tell me we’re doing the same thing.”

“I wouldn’t leave you unsupervised on your first visit, Bucko.” You link your arm with his and pull him to the back of the line. “Plus, someone has to avenge you if you get insulted.”

“Considerate.” He shifts his bag to the other shoulder to leave your hand around his elbow.

Within a minute there were already people lined up behind him. Some in large boisterous groups, following your example, but mostly unpaired.

“You gotta sell it,” you say, shielding your eyes from the sun. He’s not sure what use that has, considering that the stupid halo was shining directly above your head and just filled in whatever the sun couldn’t reach.

“Sell what?” Bucky looks at you.

“That you’re dying to get a free drink.”

“What, it’s not written on my face?” He stares ahead, emotionless.

“That plant looks more excited than you.” You point at the shrub.

He plasters a fake smile on and a thumbs up. “Please give us a drink.”

“You’re horrendous.”

“You’re annoying.” His gaze shifts beyond you. “Line’s moving.”

“If we don’t get one, it’s your fault.” You turn away with an air of indignation. His fake smile gives way to a genuine one.

“I’ll buy you a juice box.”

“Fuck your juice box,” you declare. “I want two.”

Bucky waits for the second your attention is away from him before doing a quick swipe for the halo on top of your head. He swiftly shoves it behind his back and into his pocket, away from your view.

“Let’s do this.” You smile sinisterly, rolling your neck and cracking your knuckles.

He snorts. “You gonna punch them?”

“Shut up and wish us luck.”

He does, all while biting back a laugh as you walk up to the desk out front.

“Hey there,” you greet the burly bouncer and the lady receptionist with a hard stare.

“Fuck you.”

“Alright.”

His face twists. Even though you’ve warned him of what to expect, it’s still jarring.

They took a long, hard look at him. He stares back, devoid of any apprehensions.

They shift their glare to you, and you, with all your experience thanks to the man next to you, glare right back.

They write down something on a piece of cardboard before tearing it out of the book and handing it to you, mentioning for you both to go in.

“Thanks.” You smile widely at them before yanking him towards the door in a hurry. “And fuck you too.”

He doesn’t even get a chance to say it back to them before he’s thrust into disco lights and the smell of booze.

“What the hell,” you state the minute the door closes behind you.

“What?” He has to blink to adjust to the change in his surroundings.

“They just-” you point to the stupid ticket that he hasn’t looked at yet. “How the hell?”

In the semi-dim lighting, he can make out a messily scribbled ‘One Free Drink’ on the torn piece of paper.

“Would you look at that,” he says. “Congratulations.”

“Congratulations to you. Fuckin’ pretty boy privilege.”

“Or Avenger,” he points out, “and they didn’t just look at me.”

“You’re obscenely beautiful, stop underselling yourself,” you mutter.

He has nothing to say to that, instead follows behind you till you pull up at the bar and hop on a stool.

“One Piña colada, please.” He slides the ticket to the bartender who quickly glances over it before doing a double-take.

“That’s a first,” the guy comments, eyebrows raising as he checks out the both of you before turning around to make the drink anyway.

“Good choice.” You spin in your barstool to face him.

“I was told that’s what I’d get.” He has to talk a little louder to make sure you can hear him over the remixes of 80s power ballads that were blasting.

“It’s what they’re known for.” Your fingers make a swipe above your head to get rid of the halo. Instead, you come up empty handed.

You frown, swatting around more widely, only glancing up when you hit nothing.

“Oh yeah, sorry.” Bucky suddenly remembers, stretching his legs and reaching into his back pocket to pull it out. “You dropped this.”

“Do you never take a break?” You gape at him, taking back the halo from him. “Even on Valentine’s Day?”

“Justice never sleeps,” he says, mock seriously and deeply.

“Will justice sleep with me?”

“Jesus Christ.” He can hear your laugh as he chooses to look anywhere else but your face.

A live band has their equipment out for soundcheck, their poster on a canvas beside them informing him that they were to begin in half an hour. He wonders if they're any good, considering that he can tell from a five mile radius that the bassist looks absolutely hammered out of his mind.

“Okay.” Bucky leans against his elbow, returning his attention to you. “Now what?”

“Well-” you look around at the half filled establishment“-I don’t know. That’s all I had planned.”

He wants to facepalm. You look at him sheepishly.

“Piña Colada.” The bartender drops it in front of Bucky, complete with a little umbrella and a twisty straw.

“Thanks.” He gives a tightlipped smile to the guy.

“Anythin’ else I can get ya?” He throws the towel over his shoulder, leaning forward on the counter.

“A beer,” Bucky adds before sliding the fancier glass over to you.

“Comin’ up.”

You finally catch Bucky’s eye even after he tries to vehemently avoid it. “Did you just buy me a drink?”

“It was free,” he denies, lifting his beer bottle to his mouth.

“Right.” You grin, twirling the umbrella around with your fingers. “No other reason.”

“None at all.”

In a completely preceded turn of events, Bucky was right. The band was utter trash and the set is abandoned midway after a loud, weed-induced confession of unrequited love to someone who apparently didn't even show up.

It’s painfully silent for a minute before the loud chatter of the patrons resumes and the bassist stumbles off stage, still muttering half-baked apologies to his fellow band members who just furiously follow suit.

There’s a game of darts Bucky has an unfair advantage at, but it quickly works itself out when people start drunkenly placing bets on him. He has to pull back a few shots before people get too suspicious, but it’s the most undefeated he’s felt in a while.

“Fucking come on,” his latest opponent yells loudly, the crowd around them erupting into laughter.

“Just pay up, man.” His friends each had had a turn at getting their ass kicked by Bucky. At this point, they were taking part for the hell of it.

The money charitably goes towards more wings and fries and drinks, even towards the ones who proudly challenged him and lost. It’s a pretty good time.

“Swear to God, Barnes, we should start a game of beer pong right now.” You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, a wild smile on your face and a gleam in your eyes. He loves it. “We’d make a fortune.”

“We’ll get thrown out.” He laughs, face red from all the claps on the backs and cheers he had received after defeating what was probably the tenth person that afternoon. “That bouncer’s been eyein’ us all afternoon.”

“We got nothing to lose,” you call out in return. There’s no way you're tipsy, he’s sure of it. You had stopped after the first drink, more interested in his sudden rise to fame at the joint and his subsequent reaction to it.

“Not a good look for Earth’s mightiest heroes.”

“Fine,” you relent, taking a seat at the bar again. You toss him a water bottle and he catches it with one hand. “Hydrate or die-drate, bar boy.”

He waves at a group that shouts their goodbyes at him at varying levels of noise, before turning back to you.

“Hi,” you say, giddiness expressing itself on your face.

“Hey.” He nods, twisting the cap back into place and placing it on the table. “You done profiting off me?”

“You loved it,” you retort, fingers tracing the bar in emphasis. “I always betted on you winning.”

“You were cheating.”

“You stole my halo.”

Touché.

“Say, ain’t it time for your hot date, Mr Barnes?”

“Actually, retirement home’s got their annual chess tournament going on.” He shrugs, dejection weighing down on his shoulders. “So no, she bailed on me.”

“Not the chess tournament. How could she?” You press a hand to your heart. “If it helps, in this game of chess, you’re the only king I care about.”

“It doesn’t, but thanks.” He declines the bartender’s offer for another beer. If it weren't for the serum flowing through his veins, he’d probably have alcohol poisoning by now. “Where’s your hot date?”

“Right here.” You wink at him obnoxiously and he rolls his eyes. “I don’t have one. Turns out Justin Baldoni wasn’t free.”

“Sucks to be him,” Bucky says.

“I’ll drink to that.” You lift your water bottle in cheers. He only bumps against it with his hand considering that he didn’t have one.

“D’you think they’re done with river rafting yet?” Bucky looks out at the bar that had only gotten more crowded since the both of you had arrived. Someone had thrown up on the pool table. Not ideal.

“Pretty sure.” You check your watch. “It’s evening, they should be.”

He knew he’d been there a few hours but the thought that it was evening hadn’t even occurred to him.

“You gotta go?” You lean your chin on your palm. “We only just got here, like, twenty hours ago.”

He breathes out a small laugh. “I think we’ve stayed too long.”

“I’m going to need you to stop being right.” You shake a finger at him.

Bucky notices the bouncer who had slowly inched closer and closer over the day. “Swear to God that guy’s gonna kick us to the curb.”

“You can charm him like you did with the lady at the front desk.”

“Solid plan.”

It takes another bottle of water and three more songs before it becomes truly pathetic. It hit only when you looked around and realised no one who had been there originally when you arrived still remained.

“Okay, Barnes.” You straighten up, shaking the laziness that had started to settle into your shoulders. “Any last words before we end Valentine’s Day sad and alone?”

He thinks for a second before resolutely saying, “Fuck chess.”

“Wise.” You hum in agreement. “And that conclu-”

“Wait,” he interrupts for a change, unzipping his backpack, “before I forget.”

You let out a noise in annoyance. “If you’re going to offer me batteries again for the stupid halo thing, I’m reminding you that it’s solar powered-”

He holds out a single rose and a tiny box. Your mouth shuts as quickly as it opened.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” There’s a small smile on his face that he can’t quite conceal.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, taking it from him at the pace of a snail. “But I didn’t get to serenade you.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“Okay.”

The rose is sort of squished down from how much the bag’s been shifting around all day and there’s a few petals that were missing but it was still just as lovely. The box has a small ribbon on it, slightly loose and out of shape but who cares.

You pry open the lid slowly.

There’s an adorable little bracelet in there, with a charm attached. Even in the shitty lighting, with the disco ball shine hitting just right occasionally, you can make out it’s a tiny ray gun.

“Figured since you gave me this-” he trails off, shaking his wrist to jingle the solar system bracelet. How he still had it, you had no idea. Probably more important to ask why he still had it.

“It’s beautiful.” You look up at him, biting your lip. “Thank you.”

He gives you a half smile- tight, embarrassed and slightly lopsided but stupidly cute all the same. Maybe you wanna kiss him.

Stop staring at his face.

‘Well, then he should stop staring back,’ your inner monologue argues.

But he doesn’t, not for a while at least, so finally, you clear your throat and tear your eyes away.

Your gaze lands on the abandoned stage with all its instruments and equipment still lying there. Bucky can almost hear the gears in your head turning.

“Fuck no,” his reply is immediate, the minute you turn to him with mischief written all over your face.

“Fuck yes.” You hop off the barstool to make your way over to the stage, the flower and box placed gently on the counter in front of him for safekeeping.

“Y/N, no.”

“Y/N, yes.” You laugh loudly. It has him a little starstruck. “Evil will win today, Bucky Barnes.”

“Shit,” he swears under his breath when you jump on stage, grabbing hold of the mic. He buries his face in his hands.

Evil wins by singing Happy Valentine's Day by Outkast.

Evil also gets the both of you kicked out of there.

Bucky returns later that evening only to find Clint in the dining room with another concussion and Natasha with a sigh of exasperation in the form of an explanation. Still, her cheeks are dusted pink and Clint’s not dead, so he can imagine that whatever shit they got up to, they had a good day.

The hydrangeas are more or less shifted to Tony’s floor for him to deal with alone. The common room and the elevator ride up to his floor still smells of them, though. He has no doubt that the smell was going to persist for the next week at least.

Steve’s room is left slightly ajar. Bucky pauses in front of it for a second before knocking, head ducked as he waits for a response.

“Come in,” his best friend calls back.

“Hey.” Bucky pushes the door open but does not move past the doorway. “Got a minute?”

“Buck.” Steve sits up straight on his bed. “When’d you get back?”

“Just now.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You?”

“Half an hour ago.” Steve lowers the volume of whatever movie he was watching.

“Nerd.”

Steve’s face pulls into a smirk. “You said you didn’t have a date.”

“I didn’t.”

“We’re gonna need a new bar of soap for all the shit that comes out of your mouth.”

“Fuck right off, Rogers.” Bucky chuckles. “You’re one to talk.”

Steve presses his lips together in an admission of guilt.

“D’you have a good time?”

“Yeah.” The look on Steve’s face is soft. “I did.”

Bucky nods to himself, intending on leaving his friend to whatever daydream he was about to lose himself in as he had been doing rather frequently.

“You’re off next week’s mission, by the way.”

Bucky stops in his tracks. “Why?”

“I said I’d take it.” Steve raises the volume on the TV back to what it was. “Go hang out at your convention.”

“What about T?”

“I’ll meet her after that.” He shrugs. “Not a big deal.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together before he exhales slightly, pushing open the door and letting himself into the room without permission.

“Put me back on the roster, Steven.” Bucky takes a place on the bed, kicking off his shoes.

“What about your EvilCon?” Steve shuffles to make room for him.

“I can barely handle one of them, imagine a whole room.” Bucky blows out a breath, crossing his arms behind his head. “Don’t cancel your reservation.”

“You sure?” Steve looks unsure. “It’s just a dinner, I can reschedule.”

Bucky has a good idea of why the reservation next week was so important to Steve. Hell if he was going to get in the way of that.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You’re such a drama queen. Don’t. ”

“If you say so.”

There’s silence other than the TV playing what he realises is Notting Hill. Probably a lineup of iconic romcoms was going to follow.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Bucky pipes up after a moment.

Steve hides a sly smile.

all proceeds to my ko-fi go towards getting this very tired bitch some caffeine <3

also thank you to everyone who tagged me in this textpost. i tried to make my version of it in this chapter, hope it worked out :))

Next part

[daringyounggrayson]

whumptober day 1: "You have to let go." (AO3)

Dick hasn’t clung to Bruce like this since he was twelve years old. Bruce can’t remember the last time it happened, not specifically, but he wonders if it had been as horrific as this moment is.

“Dick, shh, you’re alright,” Bruce says, holding Dick tightly and running his fingers through the boy’s hair. He’s in the back of the Batmobile with Dick, who has enough fear toxin running through his system to take down an elephant and a GSW to his knee that Bruce doesn’t think he’s really feeling. Bruce hadn’t had the heart to leave him, let alone the willpower to peel Dick off of him and restrain him, so he’s letting the car run on autopilot. “Deep breaths, chum.”

“They’re gonna kill us, they’re gonna kill us,” Dick says into Bruce’s collar bone.

“Who’s going to kill us?”

Dick chokes on a sob but doesn’t name anyone. “We’re gonna die,” he insists, shoulders shaking.

“We’re fine. No one’s dying tonight.”

They continue like that until they finally make it to the cave. Alfred is waiting for them with a gurney, but Dick refuses to let go of Bruce. They work with it; Bruce carries Dick to the medical bay, and Alfred maneuvers himself around Bruce to get a look at Dick’s knee.

“I’m afraid it will need surgery,” Alfred calls over Dick’s screams. “When did you give him the antidote?”

“Twenty minutes ago.” And it hasn’t helped; Dick’s getting progressively worse.

“Let go of me!” Dick shouts, thrashing against Bruce and trying to tug his leg away from Alfred. “Bruce, make him get off!”

“Shh, he’s helping you. He’s just trying to help,” Bruce says, but Dick doesn’t seem to hear him as he continues to cry and fight against Alfred, who finally lets go.

“Right then,” Alfred says, straightening his shirt. “We’ll need to sedate him. Try to keep his arm still so I can start an IV.”

Bruce grunts, shifting his grip and trying to lean Dick back against the gurney.

“Bruce, Bruce,” Dick starts in a new wave of panic, grip tightening.

“Robin,” Bruce growls, “calm down. You need surgery. Do you understand?”

“He’s gonna kill me, don’t let him kill me. Please!” Dick cries out, digging his fingers painfully into Bruce’s shoulders and wrapping his legs around Bruce’s waist.

“Alfred’s not going to hurt you,” Bruce promises.

“It’s not Alfred,” Dick hisses. “He’s possessed. Just listen to me!”

Bruce closes his eyes and exhales slowly, trying to keep himself calm. “Dick, you have to let go of me. We’re trying to help you.”

Dick makes no move to let go, so Bruce is left with no other option but to pull Dick’s hands off of him and push him down against the gurney. The look of betrayal on Dick’s face cuts Bruce deeper than any knife possibly could.

“Stop! Bruce, please! I’ll do anything!”

“Shh, it will be over soon.” Bruce really hopes that Dick doesn’t remember this.

“Perhaps we should try the gas first?” Alfred suggests, already walking away to fetch the necessary equipment.

Bruce grunts in approval, and Dick goes very still.

“Bruce,” Dick whispers desperately, still clinging to Bruce like he'll fall apart if he lets go. And his voice—it sounds strained and distorted from all of the screaming. Wong. It's not the first time that Bruce wishes this was all a fear toxin-induced hallucination. “Please. I’m right about this, just trust me. Please.”

“You’re not thinking clearly,” Bruce tells him. “You’re hurt, you’re under the influence of fear gas, and you need surgery. You were shot. Try to remember.”

“Bruce,” Dick pleads, tightening his hold and trying to lift himself away from the gurney. “I don’t want to die. I—I’m not ready.”

“Everything’s going to be all right. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Alfred clears his throat. He’s back, anesthetic in hand. He’s holding the mask up in question. “Do you want to try, or should I?”

“I’ll do it.”

Bruce takes the mask, and Dick immediately recoils, trying to shrink under Bruce’s grip and slide off the gurney. Bruce’s reflexes are fast though, and Dick can barely move an inch before he’s pinned again. Dick thrashes, turning his head side to side in a violent attempt to avoid the mask. It’s a useless fight—it lasts seconds.

“Deep breaths,” Bruce instructs. Alfred moves to pin Dick’s shoulders down, allowing Bruce to simultaneously hold the mask carefully against Dick’s face and hold one of his hands. “Let’s count backward from ten.”

Tears are streaming down Dick’s face, and he’s hyperventilating, squeezing Bruce’s hand with all of the force he has left.

“Ten.”

Dick doesn’t count. Instead, he screams and bucks his shoulders, trying to loosen Alfred’s grip to no avail.

“Nine.”

He blinks quickly, trying to stay awake.

“Eight.”

Dick’s erratic movements slow and weaken.

“Seven.”

Dick’s eyes close, and they don’t open.

“Six.”

He’s still, relaxed.

“Five.”

Bruce takes his hand off the mask and presses a kiss into the boy's hair. “Rest,” he says. He squeezes Dick’s hand one final time before letting go. Bruce steps away from the gurney as Alfred rushes in, and Bruce forces himself to walk away, vowing to have a working antidote by the time Dick wakes up.

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hey, I just read your Levi alphabet headcanons and they were so good!! So in relationship to that I was wondering if you could write a sub! Levi fic with a humiliation kink. No pressure, and I love your writing :)

A/N: ah thank you so much! I'm really happy that you like my stuff!! ok sorry this has taken a while but I didn't want to mess this up, I've had so much fun writing this one and it turned out way longer than I expected :) hope you enjoy it!! sub levi is my fav so :P

warnings: nsfw content, d/s dynamic, dom reader, use of 'mistress' but aside from that reader's gender isn't specified, light bondage, crying, humiliation kink :)

You always seemed to know.

You could read him like an open book, and it surprised him every single time. You knew him better than anyone, sometimes better than himself. You could see straight through him, and there was no hiding from that.

Today was no different. It was written in his stiff demeanor, his unusually icy glare, the harsh bite of his words, everything about him expressing that he was on edge much more so than normal. Although he could always relax slightly more when it was just the two of you, today he hadn't yet dropped his cold facade for even a second.

Having had some free time for once in your busy life, you were sat in the armchair in the comfort of your bedroom, nestled in the corner with a book in your hands. Levi had unfortunately been called into a last-minute meeting, much to your dismay, so you waited patiently until he got back.

You heard the slam of the door shutting as he got in and looked up to see him enter, but it was a shock to see the scowl on his face. On any other day the smile you greeted him with would be reciprocated (even if it was only subtle), however that seemed beyond reach considering his bad mood. Your book was quickly discarded.

"Levi? What's wrong?"

Not bothering to look up at you as he roughly tugged his shoes off, he muttered, "Got given a fuck ton of paperwork to finish by the end of the week, plus I've got to watch over the shitty brats from the 104th tomorrow."

You gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry sweetheart. You still have today off though, don't you?"

"Yeah, but if I don't start this work now it won't get finished on time."

"You're going to overwork yourself. Take some time off."

He glared at you, anger smothering his features. "You think it's that easy? You think I don't want a day off? I've got shit to do, I can't just take breaks when I feel like it! Just fuck off and let me work!"

The second the words left his mouth and he saw the way you were looking at him, a wave of guilt washed over him.

"I...I..." He looked away. "Shit..."

Standing from the chair and walking in front of him, you gently took his hand, causing his eyes to flicker up and meet yours. "Levi, look at me. I understand that you're stressed, believe me, but I'm just wary of your wellbeing. You're human too, and even Humanity's Strongest needs a break sometimes." You pressed a finger to his lips when he went to protest. "Think about this logically. If you work non-stop, then you won't be able to concentrate as well, will you? Plus, if you fall behind a little with paperwork, I'm always here to help. I don't mind doing extra if it helps you out. Do you understand?"

"I... don't want to be a burden on you."

"You aren't burdening me if I'm offering."

He nodded, then looked down. "I didn't mean to yell at you." His voice grew smaller, a telltale sign he was nervous. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Levi. I know it wasn't intentional."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, though quickly suppressed it.

"What is it?" You had a vague idea, since the same thing happened quite a lot when he was pent-up, but you wanted to be sure.

"It's nothing."

"Tell me."

"I just thought..." His cheeks got warmer and he mumbled, "Maybe we could try that thing we talked about?"

You cupped his face in your hand. "Are you sure you're up for it at the minute?"

"I need to... I need you to help me let go... just for a bit..."

"Ok then, if you're certain." You kissed his cheek. "I'm going to go and fetch a couple of things, stay put."

Levi stood in the middle of your shared bedroom, hands fidgeting in anticipation as he waited for you to return. This was a jump from what your dynamic usually was, but he desperately wanted to try it and you had happily obliged.

You soon returned, locking the door behind you, holding a neat coil of rope and something else that Levi couldn't quite see.

"This is new for us, so I'm not going to go overboard right away. Is that ok?"

Levi took a deep breath. "Mhm..."

"Remind me what your safe words are."

"Amber to slow down, red to stop everything, and hum the melody if I can't speak."

You smiled. "Good boy."

Placing your equipment on the table beside you, you sat down in the armchair and watched him for a moment, still fidgeting and not quite sure what to do with himself.

"Strip," you commanded, lacing dominance into your tone.

Levi blushed and began taking his clothes off, laying each article on the bed until he was completely naked. He stood before you, feeling incredibly exposed and subtly trying to cover himself.

You shook your head in disapproval. "You know better than that. Hands behind your back."

He hesitantly complied, now unable to hide his rapidly growing arousal, and his face flushed a deeper shade of red.

"Kneel." You gestured to the space in front of you and he followed. "Tell me why we're doing this."

He swallowed nervously. "Because I was mean to you."

"That's right. You took your feelings out on me, so we're going to fix that, hm?"

He nodded.

"Use your words."

"Yes mistress..."

"Good boy." You leaned closer, picking up the thing that Levi hadn't yet seen. "Open your mouth."

He did as you asked and soon found out what the object was. You fastened the ball gag securely and looked down at Levi, smirking at the sight. His eyes were wide as he grew accustomed to the foreign feeling, but he couldn't conceal the interested twitch of his cock in response to it.

"You're so pretty like this. Stand up, turn around, and keep your hands behind your back."

Once again following your directions ever so obediently, you picked up the coil of rope and bound his wrists together, before trailing your fingers over his hips. Levi shivered in arousal and tried not to lean into the touch. You knew how sensitive he was, particularly around that area, so you continued to focus your attention to his hips and his inner thighs; all too soon he was tense and shaking, and the second you pulled away he whined from the loss of contact.

"Patience." You turned him around to face you and leant back in the chair, patting your thigh in invitation. "Come here." He stepped closer, unsure of how to proceed, so you gripped his hips and pulled him down to straddle your leg. He whimpered at the sudden pressure on his cock.

"Do you want to cum tonight, sweetheart?"

Levi nodded eagerly.

"After your behavior today, you're going to have to earn it."

Seeing Levi's curious expression, you stroked one finger up his length, making him buck forwards into your touch.

"You're going to get yourself off on my leg, and I'm going to watch, understood?"

He nodded again, whining as you pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"Good. Don't keep me waiting."

Levi wasted no time in grinding down against your thigh, immediately moaning around the gag at the feel of your rough denim jeans against his sensitive cock. It seemed that just having him in such a position was more than enough to get him worked up - your dynamic before had been rather gentle, with only a small power imbalance, so it was a sudden shift to now be in this position, with yourself fully clothed but with Levi naked, bound, and entirely at your disposal.

As you watched Levi rut desperately against you, you thought back to the moment he asked to try this. He told you that he wanted to be used, helpless, humiliated, although he had been rather shy about it to begin with. With the words almost failing to come out, he blushed deeply when you suggested trying it for the first time. You promised it would be a surprise, to keep him on edge with the anticipation and add to the experience when it finally happened, and you certainly hadn't disappointed him if his moans were any indication.

Every thrust of his hips teased him closer to the edge, and as much as you loved to touch Levi usually, this had to be something he did on his own. Knowing that this was all because of his own intense desire, that it wasn't you controlling his movements, that it was his decision to act like a bitch in heat, would only make his feelings of shame more pressing.

You never took your eyes off him for one second, content in the knowledge that it made him feel just that bit more vulnerable, until you glanced at the mirror mounted on the adjacent wall. Levi had clearly forgotten it was there in his pleasure-induced stupor, so you decided that it wouldn't hurt to remind him.

Gripping his chin carefully, you tilted his head to the side so he could see exactly what he looked like in that moment; the mirror was at the perfect angle to reflect every single thing he was doing, all his wanton desperation captured in that perfect image. Although he flushed red in humiliation, he couldn't bring himself to stop his actions, being forced to look himself in the eyes as he rode your leg, and he whimpered in embarrassment as he drooled around the ball gag.

"Look at you, Levi. You're pathetic, aren't you?"

His movements never faltered, but tears began to well up in his eyes as you kept him facing the mirror.

"Imagine if everyone else could see this, hm? Their mighty captain reduced to a needy little slut..."

He sobbed, droplets rolling down his face, and sped up, nearing his high.

"Do you need to cum, Levi?"

A frantic nod in response.

"Do you deserve it? Do you think you've earned it?"

More nodding.

"And you've learnt your lesson?"

A nod and a pitiful whine.

"Very good. Cum for me, Levi."

Tears streaming down his face, Levi moaned as he reached his peak and came with a sharp cry, the sensations all becoming too much for him to bear. He trembled as he came down again, panting and leaning forward to rest his head on your shoulder.

"You've done so well for me, sweetheart," You cooed, reaching behind him to unfasten the gag and untie the rope, putting them both back on the table and taking Levi's hands. He looked up at you and you wiped his tears. "How are you feeling?"

Still catching his breath, he nodded, pressing his forehead against yours. "It... it was really good."

"Not too much?" you questioned, stroking his hair.

"It was perfect... thank you mistress..."

"I'm glad. Now let's get cleaned up, then we can rest. Does that sound alright?"

"Mhm..." Levi smiled lazily and nuzzled against your neck. "As long as I'm with you."

[the-hidden-pages]

Let Me Worship You: Part 1 - Zemo x Fem!Reader

The fact that this man is the one who dragged me out of my refusing-to-write-fanfiction grave and let me post old work while working on new stuff is...Impressive. Damn you Daniel Bruhl.

Synopsis: With all the horrible things you had heard of Baron Helmut Zemo, you hadn't anticipated just how badly he wished to win you over. To a further extent, you certainly hadn't anticipated how tempting it would be to give in.

No bad NSFW this chapter - this is the lead up to the main course.

You were not an Avenger.

Unsurprising, really, given what you perceived to be your lack of talent and marketable super-heroine prowess, and so when Bucky called you up asking for a favour, you were pleasantly surprised.

You had only met Bucky on the rare occasion he let you help him, often expressing that he viewed you as a worrywart, a particularly bad day of his leading to him accusing you of trying to be his mother. He later apologized, hearing your explanation that you wanted to help in any way you could, and since you didn't have a superhero serum or fancy suit or arm, you relied on what you could - your mind and your giving nature.

He must have remembered this conversation, because he brought you with him and Sam to what appeared to be an underground parking garage.

"What're you talking about, you wanna break Zemo out of jail? Where the hell are we Buck? Have you lost your mind?!" Sam was raving as you followed behind the two men, silent as you stew over what Bucky had told you.

Babysitting duty.

You were effectively on glorified babysitting duty of an incredibly dangerous criminal.

"James..." you hesitated when he discussed this with you, how could you not? "I don't know how useful I'll be here."

"Very," he countered, his voice dull while his eyes were pleading. "Sam’s an Avenger, I have the serum. But you, you're just a person. Zemo will be less likely to hurt and immediately betray you because of that fact alone."

"He's killed people who've been in his way before. Normal people."

"He won't kill you. I'll make sure of that."

A heavy sigh escapes you as Sam and Bucky continue to bicker about the logistics of breaking Zemo out.

"I don't like how casual you're being about this, it's unnatural - and - where are we man?"

"I wouldn't mind an answer to that too," you supply, but any answer is interrupted by the sound of a door unlocking.

The three of you turn to approaching footsteps, and find no one other than Helmut Zemo striding towards you, dressed in a prison guard's uniform.

Sam responds immediately, arguing to throw him back in jail, while Bucky tries to calm him down. But you can't help but stare at the man before you as he removes the cap on his head, arms raised in an attempt to calm the men down.

"If I may" his voice rasped, but he was stopped short by Sam and Bucky in unison.

"NO!"

Zemo nodded, looking away almost sheepishly. "Apologies," came the quiet response.

If it were any other situation, you would have laughed - those two had the dynamics of a married couple and they couldn't stand each other. And for them to completely shut down the killer in front of them was...incredibly funny.

But you had a job to do.

As the boys continued to bicker, you took slow steps forward towards the man now looking you up and down, trying to place your part in all of this.

"Don't mind them," you spoke quietly, not wanting to distract Sam and Bucky, but still intending to speak with the criminal. "They're having some troubles in paradise. You must be Zemo."

His eyes take you in, a small smirk beginning to form. "So I must. May I have the pleasure of your name, Liebling?"

You offer your name hesitantly, and he repeats it back to you, as though he were sampling what it might taste like.

"Beautiful name, thank you." He turns to face the two men still arguing, not noticing your introductions. "I really think I'm invaluable..."

"Shut up..." Sam warned, before turning back to Bucky, looking between him and you.

You nod reassuringly to him - this is necessary, if the super soldiers are to be dealt with.

A sharp sigh leaves Sam. "Okay. If we do this, you don't make a move without our permission. And she is watching you every step of the way."

Bucky interjects. "And if anything happens to her, you're going to wish we left you in that cell."

Zemo nods, looking to you once again. "Fair."

You tilt your head slightly, unable to read his eyes as they examine you. You brush it off, chalking it up to him appreciating not being thrown back into a cell immediately. "Okay Zemo. Where do we start?"

*************************************

Zemo wasn't sure of what to make of you, he realized as you were on the jet to Riga.

You weren't an Avenger, you weren't a soldier, super or otherwise. You seemed to just be a person, one constantly offering her help where she could, even when it was to her own detriment.

He also took note of how rarely your help was appreciated or reciprocated.

You would offer help any moment you could, carrying supplies, offering to fetch food, simply offering and ear to listen. You were quick to attempt to smooth over Sam and Bucky's disputes, and you would play along with the role Zemo would assign you without much question - anything to help, you would say.

You were kind, he noticed as well. Smart, and shrewd, and clearly with trust issues, but you were kind and polite. You spoke with him as much as you might Sam or Bucky, you offered him your trust under the promise he would aide you find the super soldier serum. With your kindness, he thought it might be easy to manipulate you, to slip away from the group, maybe even to ask you to join him.

But there was an issue with his theory, he quickly noticed - any attempt to woo you, attract you, win you...didn't seem to work.

He hadn't been at the task long, mind you, but he had hoped you would be impressed with the jacket, the Baron title, the jet, the offer of wine. Instead, you simply seemed uncomfortable. Come Madripoor, you were happy to play the part of eye candy to escape much attention, yet when he offered you to keep the stunning dress, shoes, and jewelry ensemble you simply waved it off, claiming that you'd reimburse him if he insisted on you keeping it. You were happy to dance near him, unable to hide your laughter at his moves, yet he offered you a drink and you promptly declined, claiming it unnecessary.

Zemo's brow furrows as he observes you, awake and quietly reading as Sam and Bucky both sleep on the flight.

"What's your motive, Liebling?" he questions, and you glance up from your page.

"Don't tell me the criminal doesn't trust me," you respond wryly, turning your gaze back.

"No, I don't mean like that," he shifts, leaning forward to continue to observe the woman that was his guard. "I wonder what keeps you going. Some are motivated by riches, and dreams. Others from spite and anger. What do you want from life, my dear? What causes you to wake up in the morning?"

You pause, looking up to search his eyes to see where this question was coming from. You weren't sure what game he was playing, and you weren't sure how to answer him either. You eventually look back down to your book, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Nothing wakes me up in the morning, given I rarely get to sleep most nights."

His brows furrowed as she goes back to her pages, eager for the conversation to end. Her difficulty doesn't seem to be that he's a criminal - she's spoken plenty freely to him, she agrees to his plans...

The difficulty, he begins to realize with a smile. Maybe he's beginning to see what the difficulty is after all.

*************************************

You weren't sure what to make of Zemo, you think as you lie awake at night in the Riga safe house.

This criminal coming out of nowhere, apparently being rich as hell, so far doing nothing to cause you to believe he would betray you (yes, Sam and Bucky were shocked by his killing of Nagel, but really? You weren't shocked) ...but what shocked you the most was how badly he seemed to want to win you over.

You could justify it, sure. You're supposed to be his guard, he's likely trying to get you to let your guard down so he can escape. Yet when he's so charismatic, the way he holds himself, that voice...

Your eyes snap open sharply.

You were attracted to Zemo.

The man you're meant to be watching.

No, you told yourself. You're just lonely, and he's the first man offering you attention in a long time. It doesn't matter that his eyes examining you makes you blush, that you want to run your fingers through his hair, that a quiet voice your head wished that he would kiss you when he pulled you aside with one arm, other hand aiming at a pipe in Madripoor to blow up some poor saps...

It's the heat of the situation, you told yourself. Your options are Sam, Bucky, and Zemo...

Trust you to pick the worst option.

But how could you not, your mind whispers. When he danced like a goofball in a club your heart warmed. When he sat, filled with confidence and righteousness in the jet, legs splayed enough that you could perch on your knees in front of him, worship him, pleasure him. When he left the bathroom this morning in that damned robe, the deep V drawing your eyes down his chest before you could help himself.

You groaned. Of all the thoughts to keep you awake, why did it have to be your assignment on your mind?

It was too hot, your mind was swimming, you knew sleep wouldn't come soon.

And so, you stood, wrapping your arms around your book and padding downstairs in a loose t-shirt and shorts. Zemo had said that you were welcome to whatever resided within the safe house, and you were ready to take up his offer and steal a cup of tea.

You weren't expecting to find anyone else still awake. And yet, you weren't fully surprised to find Zemo sitting in the kitchen, bottle of whiskey at his side, a glass in his hand. He looks up at the sound of your footsteps, a soft smile on his face.

"Good evening, Liebling."

"Zemo. Can't sleep?"

"Unfortunately, not." He leans backwards slightly, examining you. "Another sleepless night for you as well."

"So it would seem."

You take a seat across the counter from him, not wanting to sit too closely to the man you were just fantasizing about. You were good at keeping a straight face, but you wondered if you got too close if he'd somehow be able to smell it on you.

He pushed his bottle forward, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"Drink?"

Your finger caresses the binding of your book as you hesitate to find the words.

"Actually, I had come down to make myself a cup of tea, if you don't mind."

Zemo's eyes lit up slightly, and he stood, motioning for you to stay where you were. "Allow me."

"You don't have to-" you begin to protest, but he's quick to cut you off.

"Please, Liebling, let me spoil you."

The heat that washes over you is clearly visible, if his chuckle is any indicator.

Silence falls and you quietly open your book as Zemo busies himself over the tea. In mere minutes a steeping mug is delicately placed in front of you. You smile graciously and nod, though you falter slightly as he doesn't return to the other end of the counter - rather, sitting on a stool right beside you, inquisitive eyes not leaving your face.

"Can I help you with something, Baron?" you question, taking the tea and blowing on it to cool it down somewhat. His eyes follow your movements, before travelling to meet yours again.

You could drown in those eyes -

"Day after day you offer your help, sarcastically or not," he begins, leaning forward slightly as he rests his chin on his hand, examining you. "Who offers help to the helper?"

You take a sip of your tea, tilting you head. "I don't know what you mean."

"Your refusal of my gifts, your reluctance to let me even make you a cup of tea - at first I wondered if it was in distrust of me, Liebling -"

"Well, you have killed people."

He quirks an eyebrow, and you motion for him to finish.

"I realize now it's because you're uncomfortable being cared for. You spend so much time looking after everyone else, you give no one the opportunity to worship you as you deserve."

You choked a bit on your tea at that.

"I don't know that I deserve to be worshiped, I just...exist. And do what I can to help others."

Zemo leaned forward further, slowly, so as to not push you away in result. "We haven't been acquainted for long, my dear, but from all I've seen from you with Sam, with James, and with an undeserving man such as myself...the strength in your soul and the empathy in your heart...It alone rises you so far above the men and women placed on pedestals because of their supernatural abilities."

You lean forward to match, but your eyes have steeled over. "Your sweet words won't make me let you go, Zemo. I won't betray Sam and Bucky."

He didn't miss a beat. "I should be so lucky to be held captive by you for eternity, Liebling. I don't ask you to betray your friends on my behalf."

"Then what do you want from me, exactly?"

You should be very afraid. The man who singlehandedly tore apart the Avengers is staring at you as if you were a last meal, his knees touching yours, his hand finding its way to lightly perch on your arm.

You should be afraid.

Yet despite your better judgement, you aren't.

"I want you to tell me every one of your desires, so I might fulfill them. I want to see you stand tall in the finest clothes money can buy, to whisk you away to Paris, Vienna, Rome, every beautiful local this world has to offer, local that pale in comparison to the beauty in front of me. I want you to let me bring you tea, wine, food, chocolates, and anything else that might please you. I want you to relax against me, to feel the tension you've had all mission to wash away in the most luxurious bath of your life, while I wash your beautiful hair, while I taste every inch of you."

His voice had dropped to nearly a whisper, and you couldn't stop yourself from leaning forward more to hang off his every word. "I'm not a stupid man. I know it's only a matter of time before I'm back in a prison cell of some kind. And even if I weren't, you may not believe the sincerity of my words. But tonight, little bird, I want you to let me worship you."

Your eyes fluttered as his hand reached forward to cup your cheek, thumb caressing over your bottom lip. You had the strength to look him dead in the eye with one final warning.

"If this is a trick of any kind, Zemo, I won't hesitate to let Bucky rip you to shreds."

The laughter that leaves him fans over your face, drawing your eyes to his lips.

"I'd expect nothing less, Liebling."

His eyes still search your face. A gentleman, you realize. He's waiting for permission.

You lean forward to close the gap, slowly letting your mouth brush over his, tasting him for the first time, as your hand raises to card through the locks of hair in his face. Your body thrums with anticipation of what's to come, with the anxiety that this may be a dangerous move, with pure, undiluted arousal from his words.

Yet you break away gently, both hands cupping his face now as he looks at you, curious as to why you stopped, pleased that his initial seduction worked.

Your hands slowly travel down to his own, and you stand, backing towards the way you came when you first gave up on sleep for the night.

"Come on then. You want to show me what being spoiled is like?"

A grin curls its way onto his face as he spins you in his arms, twirling you so that your back is against his front, his arms around you, his breath hot in your ear.

"Little bird, I'll give you everything you crave and more."

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#192

“Is this your truck? I’m here to inspect the cargo…. No, no, no, I see you don’t have a trailer attached. I was told that you are a new driver for us. I’m referring to the cargo you have in your cab…. I’ll follow you up…. Well fuck. This isn’t a standard slab of meat I normally see. This one is huge. It’s hard to tell how tall it is because of how you have its legs spread wide secured to the sides of the cab....

“How tall would you say? It looks like about 6′ 4′ or 6′ 6″?… Oh you have its profile from the hook up app. Let me see. 6′5″ and 290 pounds. Wow. Some of my fellow troopers are that big. He’s 46. Damn that’s twice the maximal age we like them. The young ones bring in the cash on the auction block. But this one is unique; its size and muscularity should fetch a healthy amount. There’s this Scotsman from Glasgow who likes pale skinned gingers. Those blonde pubes are gold. And it’s hard to tell because you have a cage on its pecker, but it seems to be huge there as well. Those balls alone are probably the largest I have ever seen. First thing I would do if I owned this piece of meat would be to have a ball press installed constantly inflicting pain. Now, the cage is not standard. I’m surprised they didn’t tell you to not use the plastic variety….

“What? It came to you with its own cage on?… No way. It walked over to you buck naked across the parking lot of the vista view wearing only that cage. It was just you and it right?… Good. That must have been one hell of a sight. Look at those arms and those pecs. I mean it must have been one hell of a gorilla…. It wore its hood too?…

“Are those its blindfolds and noise cancelling headset?… No, those are yours. Good. So he can’t hear what we are saying. Let me read is profile on the app again…. ‘46 year-old muscle head seeks sadistic trucker to submit to. Whore me out to your buds in your truck stop shower room, or leave me all night bound in the trees behind a rest area for any other trucker, make me your urinal. No act is too degrading. No abuse is too brutal. Into mind fucks like kidnap fantasies and rapes. I am a no limits slave other than no animals, no kids, no blood, no body mods and no scat. Total sub here, I do not top. Truckers only.’

“These fags are fucking hysterical. No limits is followed by six limits. Although we are cruel slavers, animals and kids are off totally limits. The first thing I would have done to establish my authority after reading that is to take a dump in its mouth…. Oh you did? That’s hysterical. It ate it?… Good fag. Let me check it out further. Nice chest hair pattern. It will probably get to keep it. Nice plump titties. They don’t look worked over. Even better. Great balls. Now for the ass.

“Well, I knew something was bound to be a problem; it was too perfect. This hole has been used, stretched. That is one large gape. This is a mess. It’s leaking cum. When was it fucked last?… An hour ago? Damn! How many times have you fucked it? Seven in two days. That’s fucking impressive. Any one else? No. Good. Anyone see him submit to you? Good. Any security cameras?… I know that vista view. You’re good.

“By chance did you snag its wallet?… And you wore gloves when you went through its stuff in its truck?… Excellent. Heh. Heh. Yeah you know how to abduct. Let me see…. Oh shit. This is a wallet for law enforcement. Here’s the flap where a badge would go…. Oh fuck. I know who he is. He’s a fellow trooper—well former trooper. He was relieved of duty as he was arrested last month for raping a thirteen year old girl. He’s also one of a handful of slavers I know. But since his arrest they’ve cut ties.

“Now I didn’t believe that rape story, as he’s a fag, a total fag. He loved fucking fags. He couldn’t stand women or girls. What the fuck is he doing? Oh wait. Oh wait. He wants to disappear. A cop raping a girl? Prison is not going to treat him well. So he wanted to disappear. And he knows we know how to do it. So he set himself up on that app, knowing we follow those things. Jesus. He set you us as bait.

“The Hierarchy will definitely take him. They have to. I’m gonna call this one in to see what they want to do. Oh wait a minute. He’s been trying to become a trainer at one of our facilities. That’s a long process, and he’s been talking about this for years. This will force them to take him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he arranged that rape. Damn, he played this well.

“So this is what we are going to do. There’s a truck stop up ahead about fifteen miles, called Dick’s Truckstop. About a quarter mile from there is a biker bar. There’s room around back for you to park. Two other collectors work there. They really have a set up. They have potential wannabe slaves that willingly come in and are scrutinized for potential sale. I’ll arrange for them to take him in and install him as a toilet for the weekend. They don’t allow toilets to speak. That will give the Hierarchy time to figure out what to do with it. Take off the noise cancelling headset. Leave the blindfold and gag on.

“Hey John, it’s Gary. Just lay there and listen. You fucked up. The Hierarchy is not happy. This is what’s going to happen to you. You will be taken to a facility. You will be branded. Your vocal chords will be cut. Your will be castrated, painfully. Your pussy will be stretched to the point of being useless. Teeth removed. And you will spend most if not all your time as a toilet. This was a bad move. Bad fucking move.

“Put the headset back on. Good. I have no idea what they are going to do, but he’s going to be panicking for a few days. Let’s get going.”

[missymurphy1985]

Out of the Blue

*This was a request*

Warnings - smut / unplanned pregnancy / talk of abortion

I've used a fictional family for Cillian for this, names have been changed.

"That's it then," Cillian sighed, reading the letter from his solicitor, his friend Adam sitting opposite him in the kitchen of Cillian's new apartment in North Dublin. The Decree Nisi, his divorce from Kate now final. He felt a tinge of sadness, he couldn't help it, they'd spent most of their lives together and shared two teenage boys, but he couldn't forgive her cheating on him while he was away filming, the trust had left him completely.

"To a fresh start, Cill." Adam raised his bottle of beer to Cillian's pint of Guinness as they toasted, Ada ln trying to lighten the darkness in his best friend's eyes. "You're better off without her - now you can move on."

"Yeah no thanks, I'm done with women for a LONG time Ad, they're all the fucking same!" Cillian smiled, almost a laugh. "All I'm interested in now is the boys, they've been through one hell of a rollercoaster this last year."

"When are they coming to stay?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, I've got them all weekend."

"Then tonight Mr Murphy I am taking you OUT! Come on, we can go check out that new bar in the city, there's a band on!" Cillian groaned, that was not his plan for this evening. All he wanted was his pyjamas, a good book and an early night. This wasn't lost on Adam. "I'm not taking no for an answer here, come on! It's been months since you went out, let's do this!"

"Adam please... Not tonight yeah? Maybe next week, or.."

"Enough! No! You're not moping any more, I'm taking to out and that's the end of it." Cillian rolled his eyes. Fuck it, arguing with Adam was pointless, he'd known this since high school.

Within an hour they were ready, both of them in jeans and Timberland boots, Cillian in a blue striped t shirt and Adam in a green one. Hair fixed, they headed out to the waiting taxi outside.

"The first sign of someone trying to take my picture, I'm out of there Adam..." Cillian dreaded the thought of being papped out on the town following his divorce. The papers just wanted a scoop on who he'd be sleeping with now he was freshly single and available. Adam nodded in agreement a deal, as the taxi pulled outside the bar.

******************************

Y/n woke up, her head pounding. Opening her eyes she looked around at her surroundings, not recognising a single thing.

"The fuck have you done this time y/n..." You groaned, rolling your eyes and sitting up gingerly, trying to stop the contents of your stomach from evacuating violently over the unfamiliar bedsheets. Glancing at the alarm clock, you groaned again. 8am... Why the hell was it so damn early.. and where the fuck was she?? She heard a door downstairs open and close, and froze. She wasn't alone. Footsteps up the stairs, she quickly hid back under the covers pretending to be asleep as she heard the bedroom door open and the pressure on the side of the bed as someone sat down next to her sleeping body.

"Hey.. you awake?" An Irish voice filled the silence, as the smell of fresh coffee found its way under the duvet you were hiding under. Clenching your eyes tightly together, you slowly pulled the duvet back and opened them, seeing the man you clearly spent the previous evening with. Your eyes found his.. my god they were so blue.. he was handsome.. bit older than you, maybe? You couldn't tell for sure. You definitely recognised him from somewhere other than last night though, maybe he went to uni with you?

"Um... Morning.. I uh -" you sat up, taking the coffee from his hand, thanking him.

"Did we -"

"Did we.."

You both spoke at the same time. Clearly neither of you remembering the night before. You smiled, he smiled, before you both burst out laughing.

"Fucking hell, how wasted were we? We can't even remember if we had sex or not? I've NEVER been that drunk.. listen I'm sorry, this isn't exactly a great morning after huh?" He took a sip of his coffee, blushing slightly.

"Hey this is not something I do regularly okay.." he shook his head agreeing, neither did he.

"Cillian." He offered you his hand to shake, still smirking. "Listen if you can't remember if we had sex, you definitely can't remember my name..." Your turn to blush now.

"Y/n. And no. I definitely don't remember. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm still fully clothed? I don't think we had sex then redressed, do you?" You laughed, showing him you were still wearing the top and jeans you had on last night.

The pair of you laughed in relief.. eyes meeting again as the tension finally left the room.

"I can drive you home whenever you're ready y/n. If you need to get back?" Cillian offered.

"Erm.. oh yeah.. that'd be great, thank you.. listen, would it be cheeky to ask for a shower, or..."

"Hey, no not at all! Just through there," he pointed to his en suite. "I'll fetch you a towel, take your time."

You smiled. Those beautiful blue eyes were captivating you completely, you couldn't drag your own eyes away. He couldn't take his own from yours either, that tension was back, but it was a different kind of tension this time. Neither of you could remember how you got here, but neither of you minded that it had happened.

"You.. I'll go have that shower, yeah?" You moved to stand but stumbled slightly, landing closer to Cillian. He didn't move. Your face was now a mere few inches from his. Those eyes, once again never leaving yours. Your core burned, glancing down you saw the obvious excitement in his trousers, causing you to groan quietly.

He leaned in slowly, lips brushing yours carefully. You couldn't stop yourself kissing him back, within seconds the kiss becoming heated, tongues colliding. He leaned you back down onto the bed, moving his body to cover your own. You couldn't stop yourself, it was as if you were moving in autopilot, everything inside your core was on fire, demanding more of this incredible man immediately.

He stopped kissing you and hovered over your face, rubbing his nose against yours.

"Are you sure about this y/n?" You nodded, and kissed him again hungrily, parting your legs as he fell between them, grinding his own hips against yours. You could feel his hard-on, and you bucked your hips against his.

"Please... Don't stop now... I need this.. even if I never see you again after this Cill, just let me.."

"Baby I don't do one night stands... I'm taking you for breakfast as soon as we're done. Deal?" You smiled, no that was probably a grin. Breakfast sounded damn good right now, but not as good as he'd feel buried inside you.

"Deal. Now fuck me.. please?"

"Your wish is my command." Clothes removed, he grabbed a condom from his jeans pocket (Adam bought them the night before, he remembered that part at least, him slipping a couple into his jeans pocket as Cillian protested he wasn't going to sleep with anyone that night anyway...) Slipping it on, he pushed himself inside you, filling you completely.

"Fuck... Cillian that's fucking it..." You raised your hips with each thrust, he buried his face into your neck, biting the skin and sucking it slightly. You could hear him moaning into your collarbone.

"Shit you feel good... So fucking tight y/n..."

"Harder... Cillian, harder..." Your nails scratched down his back - if he was marking you, you were absolutely marking him in return. His thrusts now came hard and fast, as your walls clenched around him, your body finding that sweet release you needed, you hands pulling his hair hard. He came immediately after you, with a low moan into your hair as he pulled it in return, both of you panting trying to catch your breath.

"Shit me... I wasn't expecting that.." Cillian eased himself out, catching the condom before throwing it on the floor by the bed. Collapsing next to you, he turned to face you.

"I'm sorry... I don't even know you and I'm fucking you.. this isn't me y/n, I mean it, I don't do this, I've NEVER done this before."

"Hey, you've never had a one time thing? Seriously?"

"I was married for 20years until last night y/n!" He laughed, causing you to smile too. Suddenly your smile dropped a little.

"How old are you? If you don't mind me asking.."

"42. You?"

"If I tell you, don't freak out yeah?"

"Y/n I know you're younger okay, just tell me. It's okay."

"24." His eyes widened, was that in horror? Shock? Disgust? You couldn't tell but it didn't look good...

"24?? Shit me... The press are gonna have a field day with this..." You sat up, suddenly extremely self conscious. Age was never an issue for you, you actually preferred an older man, but it clearly bothered him.

"The press?" You asked, confused. "Why on earth would they be bothered?"

Cillian looked at you. You looked back at him completely deadpan. Shit, you were serious.

"Google me. Cillian Murphy." You reached into your jeans pocket for your phone and typed his name.

"Oh shit..."

**********************************

"Y/n, you still with me?" Cillians voice floated through the screen, knocking you from your daydream. Filming over in England for Peaky Blinders, Skype calls were your norm now.

"What? Shit sorry, baby, I was in a world of my own then! What did you say?"

"I asked if that delivery had arrived from Amazon, those books I ordered? You ok?"

"What books? Oh, those.. erm yeah I think so, something arrived for you earlier anyway, I left it on the kitchen side for you for when you get home next week. At least I think I did..."

"What's going on with you? Are you okay? You haven't been yourself for a few days now, forgetting things? You left your keys at work the other day, your phone in your friend's car.. what's going on?" Truth be told, you had no idea. Since your chest infection four months ago, you'd lost the ability to adult. You and Cillian had moved into a new home on the outskirts of Dublin 4 months ago, that morning after being the start of a blossoming romance, that led to you moving in together within the space of 6 months. Everyone had something to say, especially his ex wife who was still telling everyone who'd listen that you were obviously sleeping together while Cillian was still married, obviously he traded her in for a younger model, obviously blah, blah, blah... Never mind the fact that SHE cheated on HIM, no mention of that... Luckily your friends and family saw past all of it, and welcomed the new relationship - seeing how good you two fitted together, it wasn't hard to see why. You were the gin to his tonic, exactly what you both needed without you knowing you needed it. But these last few months, you'd felt completely spaced out - not even you could deny it.

"That chest infection really knocked the wind out my sales Cill, I haven't been right since! My mind's gone to absolute mush! Maybe I'm just run down, I've got the rest of the week off now so I'll get some rest, I promise."

"Maybe book a doctor's appointment y/n, you should be over this by now, you took all your antibiotics, yeah?"

"Yep, every one, right on time. Babe I'm so tired! I can't explain it!"

"Hit the sack babe, get an early one. I'll call you tomorrow. Don't forget to make that appointment okay?" You agreed, eyes growing heavy. You told each other I love you before closing the call and heading straight to bed.

You left the doctor's appointment the following day with tears in your eyes. This couldn't be happening... You took out your phone to call Serena, your best friend.

Approaching her front door, she opened it and immediately held you as sobs racked your body. Taking you inside away from any prying paparazzi, she put the kettle on.

"He's gonna kill me Serena... This isn't supposed to happen! We agreed - this wasn't part of our plan!! What am I going to do? How could I have been so stupid?"

"This isn't your fault y/n.. and he is not going to kill you, okay?" Nausea overcame you and you ran to her downstairs toilet, your breakfast evacuating violently into the toilet bowl. Serena made you a glass of water. Your phone vibrated, Cillian's name appearing on the screen. You ignored it. Again. Three times he'd called, three times you ignored it.

"You have to tell him sooner or later, y/n..." Serena was at the door, glass of water in hand.

"How? How exactly do I tell the man who is adamant he wants no more children that I'm fucking pregnant Serena? And I'm already 13 weeks gone? How did I not know?" Sobs overcame you again, your phone vibrating a fourth time. This time, a voicemail was left. Shakily, you listened to it.

"Y/n what the fuck? Call me. Call me right now." He didn't sound happy - from just a few missed calls, that was a bit extreme! Once you'd calmed down, Serena left you alone in her kitchen while you called him back via WhatsApp, hands still shaking.

"Baby, what's going on?? Paul's just shown me a photo on Twitter of you leaving the doctors with tears in you eyes, what the hell is happening?" You cursed yourself.. fucking photographers everywhere!

"Babe, are you alone? And sitting down? Put your phone on video call." He did as you asked and you saw his panic-stricken face fill the screen as you settled your phone on the counter. He saw your pale, tear-stained face and turned a shade of white.

"Y/n what is it?"

"I went to the doctor's -"

"I know that, y/n..."

"Look, this is easier if you don't interrupt me, yeah?" He nodded an apology and sat back, arms folded. "So that chest infection.. I had to take antibiotics. And it would appear that antibiotics... Well.. they render the pill completely useless and -" his eyes widened as he listened to you.

"The fuck are you saying y/n?"

"I'm pregnant, Cillian. 13 weeks." You closed your eyes, waiting for him to scream at you. Shout at you. Curse you. But he said nothing. Silence. Complete radio silence. You opened your eyes, tears threatening to fall any second. "Well fucking say something Cill!"

"I... I don't... Fuck y/n... This is a joke, right? You're joking? It's April 1st and you're having me on, yeah?"

"No, Cillian, it's July 15th and I am not FUCKING JOKING!!" The tears fell freely now, how much of an arsehole could he be. You saw him stand up and walk across the room out of view and your tears fell harder. Serena re-entered the room hearing your sobs but you waved her back. Composing yourself..

"Cillian... Cillian are you still there? Cillian?!" He came back into view and sat back down, eyes wet. He was crying.

"I'm sorry.. baby I'm sorry I didn't mean.." choking his words, so many emotions running through his mind. Another wave of nausea saw you suddenly dash out of view to throw up in the toilet again. All he saw was you run.

"Y/n?? Baby?? Where you going??" Serena came into view.

"Cill she's fine - it's morning sickness. She's okay don't worry." Cillian breathed a sigh of relief seeing your best friend there, at least you weren't alone.

"Listen, go take care of her yeah, tell her to call me when she's feeling okay.. and tell her I love her. We'll be okay. Everything will be okay, I promise." Serena smiled, nodding her head, ending the call, making her way back to you, still wretching into the bowl.

*************************************

"How are you feeling?" Cillians voice helped to ease the pain. Your morning sickness had subsided, at least for the last couple of days. Your bump appeared out of nowhere once you'd found out you were pregnant, but with the sudden change in your body came changes you really didn't appreciate - your pelvis was agony. Since you hit the 7 month mark, it felt like it was on fire daily.

"Like dogshit. Like my hips want to cripple me. This is hell Cillian, I miss you so much!" You started to cry again, Cillian feeling completely helpless. He'd already missed so much of this precious time filming, neither of you able to come home or visit due to Covid restrictions and y/n having a high risk pregnancy. Severe morning sickness, coupled now with severe pelvic girdle pain, doctors had signed you off on sick until your maternity leave kicked in in 6 weeks time. You couldn't walk now without crutches, relying on friends and family to bring you groceries. You were beginning to resent your own baby, which made you feel even worse.

"I'm on the first flight home tomorrow morning, we wrapped filming up a month early so I could come home sooner. I wanted to surprise you, but I'm shit at surprises!" He chuckled, causing you to giggle too. You perked up, still lay on the sofa like a bloated whale but at least you were smiling now.

"Really? You'll be home tomorrow?"

"Flight lands at 7am. I'll be home by 7:45. And I'm not going anywhere, y/n, I've cleared my schedule. Nothing coming up, no press, no interviews, I'm completely yours and the baby's for the foreseeable future. I promise." Tears fell again, but this time, happy ones. He'd be home in less than 12 hours. One more sleep, and he'd be home.

*************************************

"Come on y/n... You can do this!" You gripped Cillians hand hard as another contraction rippled painfully across your abdomen. Why the fuck did you refuse the epidural? What the hell were you thinking??

"I can't... I can't do it... Cillian I've been doing this for hours I can't..... Aaaaahhhhhh!" You screamed as your body took over and you bore down. The midwife ordering you to push.

"You can, you can baby, come on... She's nearly here! So close now, just a little longer..." He breathed with you, patting your head with a cold flannel to cool you down. Another contraction, another push...

Suddenly the room erupted with a baby's loud cry, swiftly followed by your own. Cillians eyes watered as your daughter was lifted in the air, still attached by the umbilical cord. Cillian cut it, taking your daughter into his arms. It was already decided he would hold your baby first, after all, you'd been carrying her for 9 months! You choked, seeing him holding your baby for the first time, as he carried her over to you to hold to your chest.

"She's here... She's beautiful.. look at her eyes Cillian!" Ocean blue, just like his.

"She has your nose y/n... My god she's perfect..." He kissed your head gently, openly sobbing now and not caring in the slightest. He thanked you. He thanked you for bringing his daughter safely into the world, for going through hell during the worst pregnancy you could've imagined..

"All worth it... Every second.. but I'm never doing this again Cillian.. I mean it, never again." You glared at him then at the scissors on the table, then down at his groin.

"Fuck off, y/n, I'm not having anyone snipping anything down there..."

"Looks like a life of celibacy then Murphy, that's the only logical conclusion."

"I'll book an appointment next week." You smirked. Very rarely did you not get your own way, and now he had two girls against him, he knew he'd never get his OWN way ever again.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Taglist:

@queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0

[vagrantblvrd]

The one where Tony has a habit of picking up strays?

Like, okay, there’s an entire team of them (mostly) based out of the Tower, you know?

Bruce was the only one he meant to collect, but things got out of hand very quickly.

Because Clint after New York and the way he couldn’t stand to go back to SHIELD after the everything that happened with (to) him, Tony getting it in the worst way.

(He’s forever telling Clint he regrets everything, because Clint is a horrible human being, but then he turns around and works on Clint’s bow and fun arrows for him to test out and better body armor, fuck, a better way of keeping the asshole alive when he insists on jumping off buildings and the whatnot on a regular basis. Also, he helped set up Clint’s entertainment system, and that’s the true test of friendship, you know?)

And then there’s Natasha, and after his little road trip across the country or whatever sad panda Steve and -

Yeah.

They have rooms in the Tower, that’s a thing that happened.

But they they get into trouble here and there and there’s a whole Debacle in DC that one time.

Which is why Tony ends up with the Winter Soldier murdering the hell out of the punching bags in the gym not that long afterwards.

(And, yes, okay. Technically Tony found him lurking in an alley near the Tower like an absolute menace before he coaxed him into getting out of the damn rain and somewhere warm for once, it was a whole Thing.)

Shenanigans and such, and before he knows it Tony’s got Bucky down in his workshop playing fetch with the bots and trying to teaching DUM-E the proper time and place for fire extinguishers.

He’s got Bucky bringing him coffee and food in the productive stages of a workshop binge, and then he’s got Bucky convincing him to sleep when he hits the mark where nothing makes sense but he can’t seem to stop trying.

He’s got Bucky making sad puppy-dog eyes at him when he when thinks Tony needs a break and uses the pretense of guilting him into making a dent on Bucky’s to-watch list of movies and tv shows.

He’s got Bucky introducing him to every hole in the wall place that has the most amazing tacos or pasta or whatever he found while out exploring the city he’s missed out on while he was...elsewhere.

And it’s like.

Not the worst?

(Expect for how it is, until it isn’t, because there’s one night, the two of them and a walk they go on after getting dinner together and this kiss that just...happens.

One minute Tony’s telling Bucky about some new upgrade he’s working on for the armor, and then they’re holding hands and oh, hello, that’s not new or anything, but it’s certainly nice?

Even nicer is the kiss though, and the look on Bucky’s face right before it happens because it’s all soft and fond and makes Tony’s heart do something in his chest he’s going to need to have checked when they get back because it probably shouldn’t be doing that, but then the kiss happens and everything else takes a backseat.

Because reasons.)

Tony should probably be more insulted about the fact his own team had a betting pool on Tony and Bucky figuring their shit out, but Bucky kisses again while said team scatters, so.

He can deal with that later.

But then!

Oh, but then.

Buck goes and finds a stray of his own, doesn’t he.

Comes back to the Tower one night bringing the damn spider-kid with him like a  scruffed kitten.

“Uh...”

Because look.

Tony has been keeping an eye on the kid for a while now, ever since he popped up on the radar. Dumb kid running around in his jammies fighting crime and it’s a miracle he hasn’t gotten himself killed -

Bucky drops Peter on the couch where he proceeds to Loom so Peter will know he is in trouble, okay. Trouble.

“He fell.”

Peter being all !!! because that is Mr. Stark!!1! and...that one guy???

Also, ow, because wow, yeah, he did fall, but it’s like. He heals fast? And a fall like the one he just took is nothing compared to what he’s had before, and oh, oh! He got a lot more hurt when -

“Kid, please. Stop talking.”

Tony is dying, okay, dying because the kid’s a damn chatterbox and dumb and weirdly (not so weirdly, really) likable and even Bucky likes him, Tony can ell.

(Bucky wouldn’t have bothered fishing the kid out of a dumpster and dragging him back to the Tower if he didn’t. Tony knows, because he did that for Clint just last week, so.)

“Um, okay, Mr. Stark. Sir.”

(Peter can’t see it, but Bucky smiles, just the tiniest bit.)

ANYWAY.

It’s not like Tony can just stand by and let the spider-kid run off to superhero on his own after this, you know?

(Which Bucky knows damn well, don’t think Tony can’t see you smirking you asshole.)

Tony has a habit of picking up strays, and then his strays pick up strays and everything is terrible.

Really.

[buddiebeginz]

I just caught up to the current episode of 911. Jesus that ending 😭 I’m pretty sure I sat there and stared at the tv for a good five minutes afterwards in shock right along with Buck.

Okay get comfy because this is going to get long. I have a lot of thoughts on  why I think it’s more likely than ever that Buddie will become canon. I’ve seen a lot of fandom talking about why they feel the same and honestly it’s not surprising given the way that shooting scene played out. But I have some other thoughts I haven’t seen talked about yet too.

--

I’ve gone back and forth on whether or not I think Buddie will happen. I want them to get together in canon and I think the show should definitely make it happen and not just because us fans want it to happen either.

Since Eddie arrived the show has continually written Buck and Eddie in a way to say to the audience there’s more going on there. So I don’t think it’s some far fetched idea that so many of us ship them or want to see them end up together. I’ve shipped many characters who I knew were never going to get together in canon but Buddie has always felt different. It’s not just wishful thinking there’s a lot of substance there provided by the writers.

Still more recently I’d kind of lost hope that Buddie was ever going to happen. Throughout season 4 I’ve been wondering if the show was working on pulling Buck and Eddie in different directions. I figured maybe they were just tired of listening to the fans yell about Buddie. I figured it’s why we had been seeing a lot more of Taylor and Ana and why we rarely see Buck and Eddie and Chris spending time together the way we used to in season 3. It had actually been bumming me out a lot because I miss that dynamic in the show.

---

Last night’s episode changed my mind on that though and not just because of the shooting. I was worried at first when I saw that Carla was meeting Ana because I wondered where this was going. Like was the show trying to solidify Ana as a more substantial part of Eddie’s life now? Were they trying to show that she was important enough to start meeting more of the people in Eddie’s life? But I realized after watching that the whole reason Ana was even included in the episode was for Eddie and Carla to have the convo they did.

Eddie and Carla talk about Carla’s dad. Carla says that she was thankful she got to spend time with him (before he died) and she was sorry she left them (Eddie and Chris) Eddie says “you were where you were supposed to be”. When Eddie says that Carla gets this look on her face like she’s considering his words and thinking about the meaning and responds with a line of questioning that gets her to asking Eddie about Ana. Mainly I think because Carla is one of the people who knows Buck and Eddie better than anyone and when Eddie said to her “you were where you were supposed to be” she was likely thinking so how come you’re not where you’re supposed to be with Buck?

Eddie and Carla talk about Chris and how Eddie had been worried about him (after what happened to Shannon) and how happy he is to have Ana around.  Carla presses Eddie about how he feels about Ana and Eddie simply says “it’s easy being with her” (aka he doesn’t have to be emotionally invested). Carla responds and says she’s glad Eddie is moving on but most importantly she tells him “just be sure that you’re following your heart and not Christopher’s”.��

The show easily could have framed this whole scene in a different way if they were planning on making Ana and Eddie into a more significant thing. Eddie could have responded and said he was following his heart being with Ana. The show could have shown Eddie watching Ana and Christopher with a sense of ease and love on his face instead he clearly looked like he was thinking about what Carla said and it was obvious he’d been running from the fact he was only with Ana for Christopher.

----

The other thing that made me feel like Buddie is much more of a certainty and the main thing I wanted to write this for since I haven’t seen anyone else really talking about it is what’s going on with the other couples and how that correlates with Buddie.

911 is obviously an ensemble show so some characters and ships will inevitably get more attention than others still there’s usually some that are the consistent main. For example Hen and Karen they’re a great couple but I wouldn’t necessarily call them a main couple of the show. To me the central canon couple of 911 is Athena and Bobby and second to them I think would be Chim and Maddie at least in season 4 where they’ve had a lot of focus given the baby storyline.

I think we’re headed towards both of these couples being on the rocks. Clearly Athena and Bobby are about to go through some stuff. I’m hoping Bobby doesn’t die but no matter what their marriage is in trouble at this moment. As for Maddie and Chim I think it’s likely that they’re headed for a postpartum depression storyline so that will probably spell some trouble for them too.

My point in all of this is if you watch the ending of the recent episode right after the argument between Athena and Bobby we saw the shooting with Buck and Eddie. In the promo for the next episode the majority of what we see is Buck and Eddie juxtaposed with what’s going on with Athena and Bobby and Chim and Maddie.

TV shows particularly drama ones like 911 ebb and flow and there’s usually some kind of balance. If you have one or more of your main couples in the middle of the worst times chances are you’ll see other couples in the best times. So while Athena and Bobby might be unraveling which hopefully is just temporary) in the midst of this shooting Buddie might be coming together or at least closer to getting there. More on that below. 👇

----

I don’t necessarily think that Buddie will just magically get together in the last episode of season 4. Part of me doesn’t even want that to happen. I think it makes much more sense for things with Buddie to happen gradually. Besides which nothing in tv ever wraps up that neat and tidy anyway. Shows like 911 thrive on drama so if Buddie is going to happen there has to be conflict involved before they get to that point.

My guess is that this shooting will push one of them to recognize their feelings for the other and he’ll want to tell the other one but something will stop him. I think it could be Buck. Like maybe while Eddie is recovering Buck talks to Taylor and finally realizes/admits his feelings for Eddie, to which she says something snarky like she knew that already. She pushes him to go tell Eddie the truth but when Buck goes to the hospital he ends up seeing Ana there and decides not to tell him. Maybe in season 5 we have to watch Buck figuring out his sexuality and dealing with his feelings for Eddie while seeing Eddie with someone else.

911 could also surprise us and it could be Eddie who realizes his feelings for Buck. We had that scene with Carla and Eddie and it’s clear that Eddie is only with Ana for Christopher. We had Carla telling Eddie to follow his heart. When you look at the symbolism of what happened during the shooting Eddie’s blood ended up all over Buck which is like a trail to this heart (albeit a morbid one) not to mention Eddie reached out for Buck when he was on the ground. So Eddie could wake up and realize the truth about his feelings for Buck and want to tell him but be afraid to loose his best friend. Or maybe Eddie is afraid to change anything now that Christopher seems happy again finally.

There could also just be a scene with them in the hospital or maybe Buck comes to stay with Eddie and Christopher to help take care of Eddie and and  it’s clear the atmosphere has changed between them. Like we don’t get anything super serious yet but there’s something more there and they both feel it but aren’t acting on it yet. Maybe Buck tells Eddie how he felt when he saw him get shot maybe Eddie tells him he reached for him. Maybe they both realize they couldn’t bare to loose the other.

Everything that’s happened thus far with Buck and Eddie feels like it’s leading towards something. It definitely feels like something is going to change with them heading into season 5. I feel like they’re going to leave us on some kind of cliffhanger and then drag out whatever happens next season. Which makes sense as it incentives more people to watch. But I’m more optimistic than ever that Buddie will happen now.

---

I do agree with what others have said that there’s no place really for the writers to go now than to put Buck and Eddie together even if it doesn’t happen immediately. The shooting scene was completely framed like Buck watched the man he loved get shot and they were even wearing complimenting colors which is something I’ve seen done often in movies and tv for lovers. They were staring at each other and reaching out. I mean how do you explain that if it doesn’t lead anywhere?

Not to mention the whole thing was done in slow motion and the scene didn’t focus on anyone else besides Eddie and Buck for a few minutes. It even had an almost a freeze frame with the two staring at each other across the street and since there was blood and the ambulance the whole scene was lit up bright red. And apart from everything else red is pretty much universally known as the color for love.

One other thing I forgot to add was that the convo with Eddie and Carla happened in an episode called Suspicion where people are keeping things from the people they love. The mother keeping things from her bridezilla daughter, Bobby and Athena keeping things from each other, Maddie keeping her depression from Chimney, Hen’s mom keeping how sick she was from Hen.

Why would 911 choose this episode in particular to feature all this important Buddie stuff? That important convo with Carla and Eddie where Carla basically tells Eddie she knows he’s not following his heart. That crazy intense moment with the shooting where Buck and Eddie are just staring at each other like soulmates having to watch the person they love die.

Maybe because both Buck and Eddie have things they’re hiding? Things they’re hiding from themselves and things they’re keeping from the person they love the most. Each other.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - A Historic Blunder (Rated NC17)

Summary: Crowley shows up in the Bastille to rescue Aziraphale, but for some reason, when he snaps his fingers, it doesn't only release Aziraphale from his chains, it switches their places. Miffed at all of Crowley's mean comments about his beautiful suit, Aziraphale doesn't just opt to free Crowley, but forces him to earn his way out of his chains by putting his smart mouth and sharp tongue to better use. (1999 words)

Notes: Written for the @coldomenszine - nsfw digital-only edition. Warning for bondage and oral.

Read on AO3.

“What in the …?" Crowley glares at the shackles clamped around his wrists and Aziraphale's gold brocade suit miraculously tailored to his body. His eyes dart over to Aziraphale, clothed in the burgundy coat he arrived in. "Why am I wearing your clothes? And your chains? How the Heaven did this happen?"

"I don't know," Aziraphale says, massaging his wrists, rubbed raw by the shackles he'd been locked in. Indeed, how did this happen? Just moments ago, between pleasant banter and derisive remarks in regard to Aziraphale's unfortunate clothing choices, Crowley had snapped his fingers, performing a demonic miracle to set Aziraphale free. Which he did, so, of course, well done him. But now Crowley is the one in chains ...

... while Aziraphale is dressed like a peasant. 

"Are you losing your touch?"

"Very funny.” Crowley snaps his fingers again. And again. And again. But no matter what he does, he can’t break free. 

Most of what he'd intended when he snapped his fingers happened. Aziraphale is unbound, and the guard who had been sent to fetch him standing paralyzed in the corner. Other than that, nothing else worked the way it was supposed to. 

It's almost as if his spell backfired.

"Could this be a punishment from Hell for you rescuing me?" Aziraphale asks with genuine confusion. "You said your lot don't send rude notes. Could they have taken away your power instead?"

“Don’t know," Crowley says, examining his hands for answers. "Does seem like something they'd do.”

Aziraphale gasps. "Maybe they know you're here, and this was a test! Or maybe this isn't Hell's doing at all! Maybe this is Heaven's!" He looks up and around, trying to sense any Holy influence in their midst. If he finds any, he's going to be very put off, seeing as they made no move whatsoever to aid him.

"All interesting theories," Crowley agrees, giving the shackles a tug, checking their strength. "Theories I would love to discuss with you at length somewhere other than here. So why don't you get me out of this mess?"

Aziraphale tuts at Crowley's tone. He's every inch a demon of Hell, with demon manners, too. "What's the magic word?"

Crowley rolls his eyes. He considers not saying it out of spite, but what other option has he? "Please."

"Could you possibly say it nicer?"

Crowley fixes Aziraphale with the fire of his fierce, yellow eyes. "No."

"Fine." Aziraphale raises a hand to snap his fingers, but he hesitates. 

"Wot?" Crowley shakes the chains to remind Aziraphale what he should be doing. "Wot's the matter?"

“I don't know."

"Wot do you mean you don't know?"

"It was nice of you to sweep in here and help me, but you're being mean to me."

"I'm being mean to you?"

"You made fun of my clothes!”

Crowley sputters like a car struggling to start. “You’re ... you're ... you're going to let me get discorporated because I made a comment about your outfit?”

“It was rude! I'll have you know that suit was a gift from Marie Antoinette herself!”

"Pfft. Fitting you'd be wearing it here then."

Aziraphale tsks in disgust. "Was that really necessary?"

Footsteps overhead, coupled with the sounds of cells opening and shrill cries for mercy, draw Crowley's attention away, make him swallow hard. "Okay, look, none of that matters right now! I got you out of your chains, yes? Tit for tat, angel. Bust me out!"

"Quite right, quite right. I could do that. Bust you out, as you say. But what’s in it for me?”

"Aside from you not losing your head?"

"Yes. Obviously. Aside from that."

“I’ll take you to lunch," Crowley offers.

Aziraphale shrugs. “Alas, I’ve already eaten.”

Crowley pulls a face. “That’s never mattered before!”

“Yes ..." Aziraphale grins "... but today it does.” 

"Wot else could you possibly want?"

"What are you willing to give me?"

Crowley crosses his arms over his chest, fumbling with the cumbersome metal links so he can manage it. "I know you've got something on your mind, angel. So could you help me out? Give me a hint?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale rolls his eyes to the ceiling, stalling in the hopes Crowley might figure it out "... it's been terribly stressful here, locked up by myself, waiting to be executed ..." He busies himself picking nonexistent lint from Crowley's jacket, feigning nonchalance. He has no intention of letting Crowley lose his head. He's having a bit of fun with him. 

But maybe he can finagle a little something more. 

"So you're wanting something to relieve your stress, is that it?"

"Perhaps ..."

Crowley smirks. "The stress of being locked up or the stress of being an arsehole?"

Aziraphale huffs. “Remember, my dear, I can’t stop time the way you can so we don’t have a lot to play around with.”

“How much time are we talking about exactly?” Crowley asks, dropping to his knees. Aziraphale hides his triumphant grin behind a scowl when he sees the immaculate hem of his pants and the toes of his satin shoes come in contact with the grimy floor.

“There are guards strolling the halls, checking on prisoners several floors above us. There’s one a few floors down doing the same, coming up this way. So I’d say you have roughly twenty minutes.”

"Twenty minutes!?”

“Nineteen now.”

“Knowing the response time of your cock when faced with my tongue, I’d say that’s more time than I need.”

Aziraphale glowers. "Eighteen ..." 

"Alright, alright! Help me out! Undo your trousers!"

"You're already down there. I'd say you're in a better position to undo them, don't you?"

"Bastard!" Crowley growls. He snaps his fingers, quadruple checking that it won't work. Wouldn't it be the dog's bollocks if his magic came back in time to shove Aziraphale's snarky attitude right back in his face? 

But it doesn't.

Crowley unfastens the fall-front of Aziraphale's trousers, the rough metal of the shackles doing no favors for his wrists in this position, but that barely fazes him, focused on this particular task.

It's been ages since he's seen angel's cock.

He removes it from the confines of angel's trousers, holds it in his hand, and wonders - has it gotten bigger since? Has Aziraphale been putting extra effort into this part of his anatomy since the last time they were together?

Or is he doing this now for Crowley's benefit?

To make Crowley desire him?

Crowley opens wide, takes him in his mouth, but slowly. More slowly than usual. They might be pressed for time, but Crowley feels a need for vengeance. He's going to drag this out, use all of the eighteen - no, seventeen - minutes they have to frustrate the Hell out of Aziraphale.

Teach him a lesson he won't forget anytime soon.

Crowley's lips around Aziraphale's cock nearly discorporate Aziraphale in an instant. It's been too long since he's sampled this demon's pleasures - his warm mouth, his quick wit.

His exquisite company.

"That's is," Aziraphale moans as Crowley wraps his serpent tongue around him, then drags it down his length. "That definitely hits the spot."

Crowley pulls away. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. My knees are aching like Christ on the cross."

"Too soon, my dear," Aziraphale mutters, eyelids fluttering shut to block out sounds of clattering chains, guards coming ever closer, screams of prisoners dragged to their deaths, the ominous drop of the guillotine. "Too soon."

This is the way things have been between them for as long as Crowley can remember. These small indiscretions, stolen taboos, are all they're allowed. They never know when they will have time together, so they relish it whenever it comes along. As fun as it is riling angel up, Crowley can't help wishing he could do things up proper: in the quiet of his flat, on a bed of rose petals, with a bottle of champagne, a bowl of fresh cream, and all the time in the world to enjoy it.

“Crowley!" Aziraphale whines, hips bucking, desperation saturating every breath. "They're coming!"

"Are you?"

"This isn't the time for humor!"

"How much time do we have left?"

"We don't have any left!”

As if on cue, the guards Aziraphale has been sensing arrive, going on loudly about what could have happened to their companion (Marcel - the man stuck in the corner). They stop, do a double-take, then go bug-eyed when they spot Crowley, dressed like a member of the haut monde, on his knees in front of Aziraphale.

At first, they don't know what to make of it. They would chalk it up as a victory if not for the fact that, even dressed like one of them, they have no idea who Aziraphale is. And though they recognize the fancy suit Crowley is sporting, they have no clue how the man inside went from plump and pale to thin with flaming red hair and dark glasses.

They try to think up a practical explanation, but as former men of faith, they come to the conclusion that what's going on inside the cell is the work of the Devil. They hurry off, presumably to summon back-up, screaming about witchcraft and perversion. Aziraphale doesn't know for sure. They could be yelling about the weather. His grasp of conversational French isn't as good as it should be. He could ask Crowley to translate, but he wouldn't remove his mouth from his cock for anything.

Tragically, Crowley does so himself. "I think we've been spotted." 

"How did you guess?" 

"Are you even close?"

"Yes! Yes, I am! I ... oh, let me! May I?" Aziraphale grabs Crowley's head but waits for a consenting nod before he holds him still and fucks his mouth to the finish. And Crowley lets him. He may as well have some fun with his mouth before he and his head become strangers. Not that he thinks Aziraphale would leave him there to be beheaded.

But would he? 

"Oh! Oh, dear! Oh for Heaven's ...!" Aziraphale comes down Crowley's throat in a wash of Holy light enough to burn straight through to his stomach, but that's part of what he enjoys about letting angel use him.

That taste of Heaven that accompanies his orgasm.

"Oh my goodness!" Aziraphale pants. "That was exceptional, my dear. Bravo. You really know how to rise to a challenge."

"I'm glad you're satisfied." Crowley wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then licks up every last drop. "But there's still the matter of you breaking me out."

"Yes ..." Aziraphale awkwardly clears his throat "... that."

"You are going to free me, right?"

Aziraphale shoots Crowley an offended look. "Of course, I am! I'm an angel of my word!"

"A-ha. And how do you intend on doing that when you didn't want to use a miracle to free yourself?" Crowley asks, kicking himself for not considering that at the beginning of all this.

"Oh! Well, you see, I nicked the key from that chap over there ..." Aziraphale pats down the pockets of Crowley's coat, then the pockets of his own, chirping a tiny, "A-ha!" when he finds it.

"Why didn't you tell me!?"

"You didn't ask!"

"How did you get it off him without his noticing?"

"Nu-uh." Aziraphale sticks the key in the lock and gives it a twist. "A magician never reveals his secrets." 

"Wait! That means you could have gotten yourself ... and me ... out of those chains this entire time!?" Crowley hisses, shaking out the throbbing in his wrists as the chains fall to the ground. But Aziraphale sidesteps Crowley's question and helps him to his feet.

"Come come now! Let's get moving!" With a snap of Aziraphale's fingers, Crowley is re-dressed in his original clothes while Aziraphale reluctantly switches outfits with the still frozen guard. "We mustn't hang about!"

When the guards return, there's only one prisoner in the cell. 

The aristocrat on his knees and the revolutionary he was servicing are gone.