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liveontelevision · 9 months ago

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Okay, this started as a rant about Lucifer lore and turned into an argumentative essay on why Lucifer is a bottom. My b.

18+ Smut ahead, lots of angst

•••

Here's the thing about Lucifer. He was an awesome dreamer, fell in love with Lillith, and was banished to Hell. Literally forced to see what the gift of good will can do at its worse. Unless he's made some personal contact with a sinner to get like updates about what the gift of good will did right, he had to be stuck in a depression for centuries, at least until Charlie was born. And while that would've definitely given him a new passion, he'll never feel confident in dreaming again.

With how much he dislikes sinners and what they represent, i wonder if there had to be some strain on their relationship when it came to Lillith taking control? They never really talk about if they had a fallout or if she just disappeared, but i dont think they really got divorced either.

When Lucifer looks at that family picture and winces, does he feel bad about not contacting charlie? About something he did to make lillith leave? Or maybe he feels bad about being upset at lillith for leaving in the first place? There's so much to umpack there i live for the lore.

Love Interests:

But when that comes to potential love interests in the future, Lucifer hasnt had to court anyone before like ever. Not in the circumstances that they live in a big city like Hell. So when he finally ends up catching feelings, he has no idea. People around the hotel literally need to pick up on context clues for him and have an intervention to tell him he's in love again.

Even if he hasnt seen lillith in 7 years, their relationship had to be a drastic change compared to new love. I think that his love interest would also pick it up before he does, and you would let him work at his own pace. Fuck, it is so important that he goes through this process at his own pace.

With so much strain on his past relationships with loved ones, he fully gaslights himself into thinking he doesnt deserves and isnt allowed to feel affection anymore. I hate making characters i love suffer. But i feel like in his state of mind he'd go through depressive episodes and panic attacks, maybe some night terrors. Theyed be about his past and his subconscious would essentially tell him he has feelings again, and he shouldn't act them in case he scares you away and abandons you, like heaven. Or drives you away like lillith. Or purposely blocks you out like charlie. Mans is struggling i swear. He needs some comfort.

After finally coming to terms, hes a nervous wreck about every decision he makes. He'll constantly stare in the mirror in the mornings, making sure he looks his best, would plan mental scripts before even having a conversation with you, and would become a bumbling mess just trying to make jokes out of the situation, some base level actions, like how we saw in the show. He'll manage to finally ask you out, but all he really knows how to do is profess an undying love (i feel like his confession to lillith was hella dramatic) so it was a little awkward, but still cute. And of course you said yes.

So let's say its been 5+ years since he moved into the hotel, met you and finally managed to confess his feelings. When it comes to the actual relationship? You give him reassurance and support him through his mental episodes, and laugh at his jokes and praise him for everything he does. He has such intense imposture syndrome though, that even other demons have to reassure that theres no way you dont love him with all your being. Because it is literally obvious to everyone but him.

He's pretty good at doing the romantic fluff stuff in public, he loves to make a big show out of treating you like royalty and even trying to embarrass you when you become close enough. He's always more charasmatic in public, it seems easier than doing that alone.

Not in a negative way, but Lucifer is so never to be alone with you. You take the lead a bit more in those scenarios, suggesting ideas like movies or just coming up with small talk yourself. He needs someone who'll be patient with him. Being alive for millions of years AND being left or shamed by all your loved ones during that time is literally the definition of Truama.

Of course he's been bottling all that shit up, he has no one to confide with. There's no one who's been alive and witnessed it all the way he has. So bless you for loving and caring for him even without understanding all hes been through.

You'll have some rough patches, where this emotional side locks him away from you and everyone else. It might be a few days before you see him. He'll lock himself in his office, pumping out ducks by the dozen just to keep himself from sleeping, because he's scared he'll have night terrors if he feels asleep. He's in a constant loop;

"what if i fucked up?"

"what if i try to talk about it and then they realize how bad i fucked up?"

"what if that's enough of a reason for them to leave me?"

"what if i scare them away?"

"what if that fucks this up?"

"what if i fucked up.. Again..?"

After he leaves his office, youre excited to see him out and about, but you cant make a big deal out of it. You have to speak to him calmly, make sure he's physically okay before talking to him about his thought process. It might take awhile, but he'll eventually trust you enough to open up. And of course it'll never be bad enough for you to leave him, he's just struggling.

Physical Contact:

It takes him an even longer time to become physical with you. He hasnt been intimate for over a decade at this point, but as soon as he becomes comfortable with little affections like hand holding, cuddling, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing? Hoo boy, he melts after your first kiss. It couldve been even a small peck and he would still become a nervous wreck just trying to ask for more.

He'll ask for physical touch more than provide it at first. You'll give him a quick kiss and he'll look up at you super eager just like, "another?" He'll grow into tastful pda's, linking arms, quick hugs and smooches, holding hands all that.

He becomes putty in your hand when you're alone though. You'll nudge him to lean against your shoulder or even lay his head in your lap while youre lounging or watching movies. He becomes so relaxed in your presence, that you'll want to suddenly peck him just to see his suddenly flustered reaction.

You'd give him massages that he would always be hesistant over. He was always a little nervous that he wasnt giving enough to you, but you were quick to assure him that wasnt the case. You'd straddle his hips while giving him a slowww massage. It starts with light touches, tracing your fingers over his shoulder blades and spine. You'd trace your fingers over his chest when you would cuddle too, depending on the position. Or stroke his back sweetly. It was enough of a distraction to keep his mind occupied, away from any spiraling thoughts he might be having.

He purrs. Convince me that he doesnt purr. (You cant)

Being secluded for so long probably means that he doesnt fly as much as he used to. It was probably a passion of his, and he was especially delighted to share it with lillith and charlie.

So during those 7 years he barely flew, he also didnt take care of his wings. I feel like theyre something to be summoned, so they arent constantly tucked into his back. You'd basically scold him sometimes to just let you clean his wings.

You'd do it in like a spring-type bathhouse that Lucifer would have in his castle somehow. It was one of the first intimate moments he's experienced in years, so he was generally going insane. Feeling your hands and a little comb rake through the feathers on his giant wings? You'd have to tap his shoulder sometimes to keep him from falling asleep to the relaxation alone. After the first time, the water you used was pretty dirty and he had a lot of loose feathets that were combed out. Damn, he needed this.

Intimacy:

After awhile, you sit down and would have a discussion about being intimate in bed. Lucifer would be absolutely nervous about overstepping by asking this, (even though you've been together for about a year at this point). He would use his mental scripts and basically practice what he wanted to say.

It would mainly be him saying he wants to do this because he loves you and youve done so much for him that he wants to give back to you in this way. It would consist of him saying its okay if you dont want to, or if you ever want to stop to just say so. But of course you want to, how could you not?

It would start slow, he actually tries taking the lead in this specific situation. He would kiss you first, his lips trembling at the thought that this is actually happening. Feeling his nerves, you'd cup his face and stroke his cheeks with your thumbs lightly. That will help him ease up enough to start letting the passion take over more.

He'd become more confident in slipping his tongue into your mouth and placing his hands on your hips to pull you closer to him. Lucifer would get lost in the moment, pulling you to straddle his lap as he kissed and licked and bit his way across both your shoulders and down to the softeness of your breast. After leaning back to look at the damage his eyes would become increasingly wide, looking up at you with a flustered expression. Seeing you losing it as much as he was, gave him enough courage to keep up at it.

He would almost hesistantly take a hold of your breasts and would massage them softly, running his thumbs across your nipples and becoming absolutely delighted at the reaction you gave. The adrenaline from the pleasure would make you start grinding against his lap, which would make lucifer's hands on your hips pull away for a moment and make his breath stutter. Lucifer would look you up and down as if he didnt know what to do next, studying your body with darting eyes. You'd press a small kiss on his forehead before guiding his hands back onto your hips with yours, keeping your eyes on him the entire time.

"Are you okay, Luci?" He would gulp before nodding his head and turning ridiculously red across his face, maybe from the idea of what was to come, maybe just from your voice alone. You'd keep your hands ontop of his at your hips as you'd keep moving, letting out breathy moans. He would be holding his breath without realizing, an absolute nervous wreck just from the view.

He would already be hard just from the previous make out session, so this would cause him to lean his back against the bed, his strength giving out. You'd keep up at it, feeling his hips jolt up to meet yours at times.

He was a sweaty, twitching mess in front of you and you hated to admit how much that excited you.

His scripted plan was immediately forgotten, but he was quick to remember that he wanted to please you.

He'd snap out of his state of intense pleasure, to carefully switch positions, him looking over you with your back against the bed.

You both discuss it, of course, attempting to set boundaries before hand. Even just the tender discussion would get him riled up. So he'd lean foward and kiss you again, showing off his forked tongue before peppering kisses down your entire body, until he was close enough to let his hot breath heat up your folds.

You'd feel his nervous breath on you before delving in. He would be hesistant of course, but would be quick to get used to your entrance after running his tongue across your entirety multiple times. Lucifer loves providing pleasure this way, so his brain immediately knew what to do once the nerves past. He was quick to take a tight hold onto your thighs to keep you in place as he entered you with his demonic lengthy tongue. He would look up at you as he sort of aimlessly dug around at first, waiting for a reaction. Once he'd see you dip your head back with a muffled moan, he would close his eyes to focus all his attention to that one spot. He'd reach his thumb around to circle and massage your clit that he would find far too quickly. You'd arch your back and try to get more friction against his tongue, but it's easy to forget that he is quite literally the strongest being in Hell. You weren't going anywhere.

He'd love feeling your hands in his hair and would absolutely lose it feeling you pull hard when he'd hit just the right spot. As soon as he set a steady thythm and was hearing your voice become more unhinged, he'd speed up to an extent that you didn't realize was possible after going for so long. You discussed cumming before and he made it very clear that he was okay with you finishing on his face. Fuck, he wanted it. You still warned him, moaning out his name to get his attention, "I-I'm almost there- K-Keep doing that.. like that..! Luci-" you'd almost direct him though the whole process, but were quick to become a moaning mess unable to communicate with words. You'd reach your limit and he would let you buck up into his face this time, loosening his grip on your thighs. He'd pull away after licking you clean, sending overstimulated pleasure across your entire body, with a line of your juices following his tongue as he lifted his head. He would pant with his tongue still sticking out of his mouth, and even through hazy eyes you loved seeing his demonic tongue and thinking about how it just drove you to climax.

Things would switch up again, and you'd sit him against the back of the bedframe. you'd have another quick discussion before seating yourself slowly on his length, which had been throbbing for any contact since the night started. The first few times, he'd do his best not to cum immediately. He hadn't been touched like this in a while, after all. You'd only begin to move once you made sure he was okay since his struggle was written all over his face.

The moment you began to keep a steady space, he would jut his hips upwards, becoming needy to feel this sensation he hadn't felt in over a decade. The first time didn't last long. It was sweet, and he would constantly moan out your name and babble on about how much he loves you. The entire time, you'd be praising him through every move until he was going too fast for you to get a sentence out.

He'd cum inside of you, another previously discussed topic. You essentially had to beg to convince him it was okay. You'd collapse onto his chest, a position he didnt see often. While the two of you always cuddled, you were so focused on making sure he was comfortable, Lucifer realized you didnt often get the chance to just relax on top of him. So after realizing that? Aftercare was amazing.

He'd let you sit with him inside you for a while, before pulling you off and immediately cleaning you up. Some nights, when he felt especially dominant, he would lap up his own cum from your incredibly sensitive cunt. He would swallow some of it, but was mainly pushing anything that dripped out back into your entrance.

After cleaning you up, he would wiggle his way back underneath you and pull you onto his chest, enjoying taking care of you the way you took care of him.

After the first night, lucifer would be much more confident. He'd have that healthy glow, but would be more assertive during meetings, more communicative and wouldnt shut others out as often. It really helped him realize how much you gave to him, and he was determined to give all that and more back to you.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months ago

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AITA for asking my partner not to be around me when she has panic attacks?

Probably sounds bad, but please read first. I (28FTM) have been with my partner (25MTF) for just over two years. We’ve lived together just over a year. We both have significant mental health issues, although her symptoms have always been more severe/uncontrolled than mine.

I have always been extremely supportive of my partner’s mental health issues. About 6 months after we started dating she had a mental health crisis that resulted in her being hospitalized for severe suicidal ideation; I helped her get support with her college, find a psychiatrist, therapist, and an HRT provider (since she was extremely dysphoric at the time and hadn’t started).

Around 6 months ago she had another suicidal episode where she actually attempted in front of me. I helped her receive medical help again, supported her throughout and after the hospitalization process, helped her find accommodations for university classes, and find and start alternate treatment (ketamine). I’ve also been supporting her in between her crises by attending some of her therapy with her at her request so I can learn what grounding exercises and such her therapist recommends when she’s panicking or suicidal, since she often forgets her coping mechanisms when in a crisis, and just listening to her and being there when she wants help.

All that is to say, I believe I’ve been extremely supportive in helping her find ways to sustain a healthy life while having mental health issues. However, one of her diagnoses is tourette’s (which I’m aware is neurological and not necessarily psychological) and this results in her having compulsive verbal tics that worsen especially when she’s stressed.

One of these tics is her saying “I’m going to kill myself” repeatedly when distressed (along with other severely hateful statements toward herself). This has always been extremely distressing for me to hear, even when I talk to her to make sure it’s a tic moment and not actual suicidal ideation.

I have been working with my personal therapist so that I don’t immediately go into my own damage-control type crisis when I hear her ticcing. However it’s still been extremely anxiety inducing for me to deal with this, to the point where I’m starting to either dissociate or panic when I even notice that she’s having a panic attack, because I expect to start hearing her say really awful things again. It’s even to the point where I think it’s affecting my overall mental health because I’ve been hearing these distressing tics so often I feel like I’ve started to internalize them (like, me more often having intrusive suicidal thoughts when depressed) although I certainly don’t blame her for how I’ve been feeling or my own thoughts that I’m having when depressed.

I talked to her about this recently and explained how I think it’s been effecting my mental health, especially as I work from home and her panicking often interrupts my work when she comes into our shared office to talk to me while panicking - which then makes me get behind on my work, since I feel like I can’t ignore her and want to help when she’s having a panic attack.

My mental health has also been extremely poor lately as I’m dealing with a lot of work and a sudden diagnosis of (benign) kidney adrenal tumors that I’m starting treatment for. I’ve been doing things to try to improve how I’m feeling but I’m still in a very difficult place right now.

Even though I feel extremely bad for asking I asked her to please try grounding herself at least to the point she’s not loudly saying that she wants to kill her self and hates herself when she’s panicking and wants to talk to me. I emphasized that she should always come talk to me if she is actually feeling like she’s going to do something harmful. But I’m seriously starting to feel like these verbal tics are affecting my functioning day to day, and I don’t know what else to do. And of course I still love her and want to be with her, I don’t even feel like that needs to be said but I want to emphasize it. I just feel like I need to make sure that I am safe and taking care of my basic mental health needs, like not having extreme panic attacks when she’s panicking, to even begin to try and help her out when she’s struggling.

So AITA for asking my partner to stop coming to me when she’s having these extreme panic attacks?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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tangents-within-tangents · 3 months ago

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As much as I love sweet headcanons and found family fics about the Batch accepting Echo and supporting him through his adjustment and PTSD/trauma, gotta remember that what we were actually given in canon is this:

Hunter: Me and the boys will tag along anyway, if only to say I told you so. Crosshair: I would have left him for dead too. Besides, he's just another reg. (his rescue was just a mission for them, wouldn't have done it otherwise)

Tech: To be blunt his mind belonged to the Separatists until we unplugged him. We don't really know where his loyalties lie. Rex: Yeah? Well I know. Hunter: Alright Echo what are you trying to pull? Tech: How do we know that's what you're really going to do? Hunter: Well I guess you actually are on our side. (They openly doubt his loyalty even though they saw what he went through, and he already fought alongside them on Skako. Feels kinda victim-blamey to me, and it's odd that it goes straight from this to him joining them, like he had to prove himself worthy first? It's just the opposite of fanon which usually has the Batch be immediately sympathetic/protective and assume the regs would distrust him)

Tech: You are more machine than man, percentage wise at least. Echo, a triple amputee: *sigh* lucky me...

Palpatine: ...the attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed Wrecker: You can say that again! Echo, a physically disabled person:

Echo, who was medically experimented on: *injured and having a panic attack in the medbay* The Batch: *off somewhere joking/betting about if he’s dead*

Tech: -from the Citadel rescue when you... how shall I put this? Wrecker: Blew up!! :D Crosshair: And turned into that Echo: *sigh* yes

Random stranger: *mistakes Echofor a droid* Hunter: *smiles and goes along with it for the credits* Echo, who was SOLD and dehumanized as a pow: *visibly uncomfortable* Hunter: Echo, go to your new owner.

Echo, who was treated like property by the Techno Union: *explains why slavery is wrong* And we are gonna stop it from happening to that kid. Tech: As well as earn a decent amount of credits once the job is complete. Echo: (bitterly) yeah, that too *leaves the room*

Tech: The client being a Separatist is not relevant. Echo, who was imprisoned and tortured by Separatists for over a year: It is to me! Hunter: Forget politics! We're here to do a job.

Tech: This squad existed before Echo was a part of it, and it will exist after.

For the record, yes people can and do joke about their trauma and disabilities

But look at Echo’s reactions/tone/body language in these scenes. It’s downcast sighs and discomfort, while the others are smiling, sneering, or dismissive. And because it's animated that means that every facial expression was intentionally designed.

What really clinches it for me is this moment:

Omega, a child who he just met, comforts him and helps him through his panic attack. But when the Batch, his squad who he's been living with for at least ~6 months, comes into the room he visibly closes himself off and hides his vulnerability :(

There are good moments too (though tbh i can't think of many)

I don't wanna discount that, but that doesn't discount this either. And it's just really weird when you think about it. Like half of these were in the first episode, which is the first time we are actually seeing how these characters interact together as a squad. And this is coming from the "defective" clones who supposedly know what it's like to not fit in? Who offered Echo a place with them specifically because they thought he wouldn't be accepted by others?

As with anything, there are ways we can read into or explain these moments (like honestly 'selling' your brother or betting that your brother died by lunch tray is very accurate sibling energy (And my personal headcanon (to reconcile it for myself bc the show didn't) is that Wrecker was worried about Echo so Crosshair jokingly exaggerated that he was dead and turned it into an argument/bet to distract him (which is also why I think he turns battles into a game/competition with Wrecker)) but Echo is very traumatized and there's a complete lack of consideration there). But that doesn't excuse it nor does it change the fact that this is what was presented to us in the writing. Characters aren't actually people (shocking I know lol), so any of their 'choices' are actually made by a real-life writer. And whether the implications of these moments were fully considered/intended or not, it still portrays the characters and their attitudes/relationships in a certain way.

#as usual the fanfic was better #oof making this post *hurt*#no wonder he left #fun fact if you say that Tech *can't* know that he can hurt Echo's feelings bc he's ND that is also kinda ableist actually #the bad batch #tbb #tcw #tbb echo #arc trooper echo #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb tech #disability representation #ableism #captain rex #canon bad batch dismisses echo's trauma so much and they were never called outttttt #the bad batch are the bullies not the regs change my mind #oh god all those parenthesis has she reached peak tangent within tangent?!

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wen-kexing-apologist · 4 months ago

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I LOVE "AYAKA IS IN LOVE WITH HIROKO" AND THINK EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH IT

I would just like to take a moment to praise Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko. I am only three episodes in to this show, but it has been so funny, so chaotic, and so undoubtedly queer. With so few GL offerings in the absolute tidal wave of BL that we get each year, we rarely get an opportunity to see what feels like more authentically queer sapphic experiences. Or at least I have. There are moments for sure, there are lovely little shows like Sleep With Me and She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat but if I am honest 23.5 and Chaser Game W were disasters, GAP while consistently fun did drop in quality in the back half, and the majority of other GLs I’ve heard about that have aired recently are genuinely problematic.

We are almost halfway through this show right now, and I am having the time of my life. This show has had me legitimately cackling in every episode and truly embodies the gay panic of a good ol’ fashion lesbian desperately trying not to misconstrue her colleague’s rather obvious advances.

That said, there are three things that this show has done that have made me fall desperately in love with it:

Hiroko spends so much of her time at the lesbian bar.

Hiroko and Ayaka are horny on main

THEY PUT AN HONEST TO GOD BUTCH IN EPISODE 3

Legitimately, it makes me so so happy that we are getting a story out of Japan where the main character is incredibly aware of and comfortable with her sexuality. This is not a queer discovery show, this is a gays getting on the same page about their feelings show. Learning in, like, Episode 1 that the second Hiroko turned 18 she marched her gay little ass straight to the lesbian bar and has made that Her Spot for (I think) more than a decade.

She’s an established regular with a bunch of other established regular lesbians friends and that makes me *so* happy.

Both Hiroko and Ayaka are horny on main in ways that are also so refreshing to me, and the way they play with Hiroko’s own history as a Woman Who Fucks is so fun because it is made so blatantly obvious that she is the pursuer in the majority of the sexual encounters she’s engaged in (and those counts are in the triple digits) so it is really fun seeing her brain absolutely short circuit and any and all suaveness we got to see in the little flashbacks of her times picking up women in the bar just absolutely imploding under the stress of trying to convince herself that this incredibly hot woman that works for her is actually straight and has no idea what she is doing.

And on the flip side, Ayaka has clearly not had a ton of sexual intimacy with women in the past because we see her being incredibly impersonable and isolated in the flashbacks we get. But now that she is actively pursuing her feelings for Hiroko and desperately trying to make herself known she is clearly very horny and would be DTF at the drop of a hat. It is just so much fun watching her get progressively more annoyed at the fact that she is making it blatantly obvious that she wants to fuck Hiroko and Hiroko is at this point willfully ignoring it because she, and I quote, “doesn’t know how to act without an ulterior motive,” and is trying to make sure she isn’t misunderstanding Ayaka.

And finally, and this is just a small thing, but in the most recent episode, Hiroko and Ayaka take a business trip together, and Ayaka ends up helping this elder that is having difficulty with some heavy boxes of supplies for their store. AND THE PERSON SHE HELPS IS THE BUTCHEST WOMAN I HAVE SEEN OUT OF ALL THE ASIAN QLS I’VE WATCHED FOR THE PAST TWO YEARS. Like we have had mascs, but I am talking the casual inclusion of an elder butch woman, which I have not seen. Hell, I have barely seen older butch lesbians in any media I’ve watched (shout out to Cloudburst) so to see someone just vibing in this show, even if her role is small, is of such monumental importance and makes me feel like this show is made with a queer audience in mind, which is not the case for most of the GLs I’ve watched (at least in my own perception/opinion).

Anyway, if you are not watching this show you should! It’s readily available on GagaOoLala, the episodes are only 23 minutes long, and there will be a whopping 8 episodes.

#ayaka is in love with hiroko #ayaka chan wa hiroko senpai ni koishiteru #japanese gl #japanese ql #jgl #please i am begging you all to watch this marvelous show

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leclerced · 1 year ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/enchantecafe/735984662758014976/hi-whispers-oscar-fucking-carlos-little

THE WAY I SCREAMED AND BECAME THE PERSONIFICATION OF: 😀😳😧

no bc THIS is the ultimate trope for oscar and carlos beef OH MY GOD?

imagine instead of oscar flat out telling him little sainz left her ring at his place oscar menace piastri starts wearing it around his neck on chain (i live and die for this trope oh my god). and the other drivers who’ve become acquainted with little sainz from years of carlos bringing her to races are like… “hold on is that what i think it is around the baby rookie’s neck😦?” i wanna imagine lando and charles are like lowkey laughing about it because carlos looks like he could literally murder oscar (or hire someone to do it) meanwhile oscar is just smugly staring at him as little sainz dotes on him while wearing his racing number (it’d be funny if a dts episode was about their beef and lil sainz is just sitting there all pretty like “???”)

part of me likes toxic oscar, but also i love that man too much. so in my head they are actually very happy together… getting to piss of carlos is just a bonus

-🌷

ok i didnt mean to write all this sorry not sorry. ending is rushed bc i realized it was Long. checked word count and its just over 1.4k so im adding a read more 🫶🏻

he ends up falling for her even though he just wanted to fuck with carlos, it takes him months to get into her pants and he’s so focused on the destination he forgets about the journey get there. he doesn’t realize he’s falling for her bc he’s never been in love before, so he doesn’t recognize it.

maybe the ring is very obvious like its gold with three diamonds on the front, he goes out and buys a matching gold chain that morning and he suddenly feels guilty for using her to get to carlos so he buys her a tennis bracelet to replace the ring he slipped off her finger. she’s awake and pouting when he gets back and immediately asks why he left. he silently holds up the jewelry store bag as he crawls back into bed with her. she immediately notices her ring dangling from his neck and reaches out to grasp it. she doesn’t know why but seeing him wearing it around his neck makes her stomach flutter. then he’s pulling a velvet box out of the bag and opening it to reveal a much prettier bracelet. he still doesn’t say anything as he clasps it around her wrist, and then he kisses her wrist right over her pulse point and murmurs, “just wanted to treat you.”

everyone immediately notices her bracelet when she shows up to the paddock and makes her way to carlos’s garage. he notices her ring is gone and the shiny bracelet has replaced it on her wrist and he takes her hand and asks where the ring is and where the bracelet came from? she wiggles her fingers and says, “i guess i forgot to put it on this morning. bracelet is new.” he pushes it out of his mind, tries to ignore the fact that she’d had only forgotten it a single day since their mother gifted it to her. she’d had a panic attack the one time she almost did leave it at home, and they nearly missed their flight turning around to get it. if she had forgotten it this morning, why wasn’t she freaking out?

lando would see it dangling around oscar’s neck as soon as he arrives at the track and they greet each other. he remembers seeing it on her finger every race weekend when he was carlos’s teammate, so he clocks it instantly and pulls him aside. “you didn’t? there’s no way-“ and oscar immediately knows what he’s talking about and lifts it up to show it off like a trophy, “it was too small for my fingers.” and lando’s kind of jealous because he may or may not have tried asking her out once or twice. but that fades as soon as he realizes carlos is going to notice immediately too. he’s extremely protective over her because their dad was never always off racing and he’s a few years older than her, she’s like oscar’s age or a year younger maybe?? idk she’s just baby and carlos will protect her until he dies. he’s vetting every boyfriend; running background checks and hiring private investigators to find their ex girlfriends and interview them before they get his approval to date his little sister.

carlos noticed it hours later, when oscar, lando, and him are in a press conference together. lando keeps laughing out of nowhere and carlos keeps asking what he’s laughing at, which makes him laugh more. they almost make it to the end without him noticing it. oscar gets asked a question and he drops the pendant he’s been sucking on from between his lips. carlos had noticed the imprint of something under his shirt earlier and out of the corner of his eye saw him pull it out of his shirt and then put it in his mouth. immediately carlos recognizes it and knows exactly why his sister wasn’t wearing her ring when he saw her that morning. he thought it was weird when oscar suddenly put the pendant between his lips, but he realizes oscar had done it so he would see it. lando notices his shocked stare and bursts out laughing again. oscar’s smirking while answering the question about the upcoming race. carlos is holding himself back from pummeling oscar on camera, and as soon as they’re saying the conference is over, lando’s standing up and blocking him as he tries to launch himself at oscar.

everyone is so confused about what’s going on, but lando and oscar are laughing while carlos hurls threats and insults, and lando holds him back. unfortunately the cameras are still rolling and catch carlos saying oscar defiled his baby sister. somehow oscar gets out of the conference room and is whisked away by his team to ask him what is going on and what carlos is talking about? and he just can’t stop grinning because he got exactly the reaction he was looking for.

carlos finding his sister and dragging her away to his drivers room and asking her why? why him of all people. she knows anyone on the grid would bow down before her if she asked. so why did she fuck the one man he hates? and she’s like “oh my god don’t say fuck. it’s not like that.” and he asks, “what’s it like then? why do you think he did this? do you think it was anything more than a fuck to him?” and that makes her so sad, she starts tearing up and backing away from him because he’s never said anything like that to her before. she’s regretting everything and doubting everything oscar’s said to her the entire season, how perfect and kind he’s been, all the nights she laid in bed thinking about how maybe she could bring them together. her and lando could work together and make them get along. but all that is crushed hearing carlos’s words. he immediately regrets them of course, he still thinks they are true but wishes he never said them to her. he tries to grab her but she’s already out of his drivers room and when he follows her, she’s already gone.

he’d search until someone finally says they saw her leave with oscar and he’s even angrier because his words pushed her right into his arms, where he didn’t want her. he just texts his manager that he’s leaving and wonders what excuse oscar gave to get out of his media duties. he’s calling her the entire ride back to his hotel, and then he gets there and remembers that the mclaren drivers are in a different hotel and that’s definitely where they went. he has no clue where she is, probably for the first time ever. he goes to the hotel bar and has a drink as he spams her with calls until they stop going through. he calls lando but lando won’t tell him anything, apparently oscar and his sister swore him to secrecy when they left and she was sobbing and begged him not to tell her brother.

oscar wouldn’t know what to do when she shows up in his drivers room crying but he knows carlos has to be near and he doesn’t fancy getting his ass beat so he books it. lando covers for him after seeing the state she’s in. oscar’s got three sisters so he knows how to console a crying woman, he stops at a store and leaves her in the car to fetch chocolates and flowers and whatever else he sees that she might like before he takes her back to his hotel room. she cries for an hour before he finds out what’s wrong. she’s cried all her tears away and has gone through a box of tissues before she finally tells him what carlos said and how his words hurt her but it’s the thought that oscar would use her like that, make her fall for him just to get under carlos’s skin. she tells him that she knows he wouldn’t do that, that while he acts all cold and reserved with everyone else he’s completely different when they’re alone, and she know’s that’s the real him. then she’s cupping his cheeks and he’s thinking about how pretty she looks after crying, and she’s asking him to promise her he wasn’t lying to her like carlos said. and he actually feels something, he doesn’t know what the unfamiliar tug in his stomach is, guilt? pain? love? he tells himself it’s not the last one as he promises her that he wasn’t lying and wraps her up in his arms and tells her to go to bed, because he’s not going anywhere. the kiss he presses to the crown of her head makes her trust his words, no matter how untrue the first half is.

#ask #🌷 anon #oscar piastri smut #op81 #idk what to tag this as #tag later #op81/cs16 sister au

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daechwitatamic · 6 months ago

Text

Vice;Grip || chapter 2 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!! //

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: depiction of a depressive episode, recreational drinking and bar scenes, allusion to oral (f. receiving), kissing, rough sex/man-handling, explicit penetrative sex, dirty talk, aftercare, didn't venture fully into writing dom!vernon but i have been informed i wrote something that might be in the realm of a dom drop, language obviously, reader is called a gendered slur by a stranger, law-breaking :), actual fluff for a second, allusions to drug use, car sex

wc: 6900

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

1 yr, 5 months ago

The onset of spring brought a lack of color. Grey clouds hung full and heavy, low over the city skyline. Grey crept into the corners of your apartment, darkening rooms during daytime so that you needed to keep lamps on even in midafternoon. Grey crept over your body, into your limbs. Days stretched and nights inched; you only got out of bed because you had to feed the damn cat.

That's part of why you'd gotten the cat in the first place, after a particularly long episode a few years ago, when Chan had presented you with a list of things he thought you should do to combat the blues, as he'd put it.

He meant well. But he always came at your depression like a problem solver, like just doing the right things could make it go away.

And sure, his suggestions were things that would help - get outside, call someone, don't isolate, shower even if you aren't leaving the house, drink some damn water - they weren't a cure. They were better reminders for when you were okay - good at keeping you okay for longer stretches. But when it was already too late, when the grey came, they all sounded fucking pointless.

Anyway. The cat had been a good idea.

is it bad??

Chan did his best. He was a good best friend. He just didn't understand it.

The answer to his question, you thought, as you flipped your phone over so you wouldn't see the notification if he followed up, was yes. Yes, this time was particularly bad. But you didn't have the energy to type those three words.

Terrible friend, your brain accused, and it was right.

You managed to drag yourself to work, to at least show up so you could continue to pay for your apartment and your damn cat, but not much else. You existed on cans of diet coke and microwave meals. You doom-scrolled until sunrise, then slept an hour or two at most before getting dressed for work. You left texts unanswered, the mail piled up. So did the dishes.

Chan came by, once, did your dishes for you. It made you feel worse - useless and pitiable. You'd rather he just go away, but you held it in; you knew that would only hurt his feelings.

You learned from your mistakes, one thing that could be said in your favor.

“Have you called your doctor?” he wanted to know.

What was the point? There wasn't a stop hating your life pill.

“What if you tried painting?” he asked.

“What if you just let me be?” you countered, finally tripping over the line from embarrassed apathy to defensiveness.

That pout again. “It might help,” he said. “Don't most famous artists do their best shit when they're down?”

“Get out,” you deadpanned. He dropped it, knowing this was a bigger issue, a bigger argument, than this current episode, a complex situation that went beyond the boundaries of your brain chemistry.

He put the last of your now-clean plates away. “Let's go somewhere,” he suggested.

“Chan,” you groaned. “I’m tired. I can't go gallivanting -”

“You're not tired, you're depressed,” he argued. “And going outside will help you.”

“I might have to kill you,” you said seriously, and he rolled his eyes.

In the end, he let you win. He'd been around long enough to know that eventually you'd venture outside again, hit the bars with him again, text first again, laugh at his stupid memes again. It was just a waiting game.

Still, when he left, you sat on the edge of your couch with your chin in your hands. On the living room rug, the cat rolled and showed you its belly.

“Not you, too,” you groused.

The cat did a few alligator rolls and then scampered into your bedroom and under the bed, as if chased.

You sighed. You made your way to the spare room, which had been shut - to keep the cat out. To keep your ghosts in.

Your easel was still set up in the corner. You were kind of surprised it wasn't covered in cobwebs. You'd been sketching just on paper last time you'd worked, trying to make decisions that way so you wouldn't waste a canvas, and it still sat there.

You inched closer, ran your hands over your brushes. Took a step back, eyed the paper and your sketches.

It was bad. Thank god you hadn't put it to canvas.

You pulled the paper down, crumpled it in your hands. You chased the cat out with a gentle nudge of your foot, and closed the door again, keeping both cats and ghosts on their respective sides of the door.

There was no rhyme or reason to your brain, no map or calendar to follow for the starts or stops. But eventually, the clouds broke. The grey gave way to baby buds of green, yellows pushed through soil, determined to meet the sun.

You texted Chan - drinks??

He responded - about time!!!

You texted Vernon - hello, its me

When he didn't answer, you tried again - sorry for the radio silence.

Still nothing.

You checked his socials, saw that he'd been doing his thing - a smattering of selfies, some group shots with the guys he played music with sometimes, a few nature shots: the moon, once, and what looked like the river at night.

The silence stretched. You gave up, considered it over. Grieved a little, because it had been good.

You went out on a night that teased summer even though it was months away, sank into the familiar blur of too many shots - not enough to be a problem, but maybe enough to make problems.

Under the club's ever-moving lights, you took a selfie, your drink and cleavage both showcased in the shot.

Send it to Vernon, the urge to make trouble suggested, and you listened without hesitation.

And - finally - an answer.

come here after??

You smiled a tiny, victorious smile and knocked back the rest of your drink.

omw.

Later, he gave you a rare and devastating pout as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smoothed fingers down the still-shaking inside of your thigh.

“What'd you make me wait so long for?” he complained, those sharp eyes sparkling with mirth. When you shrugged, still a little mindless from your high, he gave the same spot on your thigh a playful slap. “Don't do it again.”

1 yr, 4 months ago

busy tonight?

not busy but.

???

not in the best mood.

bet i could fix that.

yeah. idk.

why don't you let me try?

“What's wrong?” you cooed, teasing, when Vernon let you into the apartment.

He didn't smile, didn't play along, and it sobered you quickly.

“Don't want to talk about it,” he muttered, crowding into your space. “Wasn't that big of a deal anyway.”

Just want the fix you promised, he thought.

You moaned like liquid gold when his first kiss was a bite. Encouraged, Vernon gripped you by the shoulders, pushing you back against the wall hard enough that he heard your breath escape in a single huff. He hesitated, eyes searching your face; a question.

You lifted your chin, eyes shining with something hard. When he kissed you again, you threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled, hard enough to make him hiss; an answer.

His pace was frenzied from the start, your legs around his waist and the wall holding you up. His hand curled around your throat, not squeezing, but sliding up to grip at your jaw instead, keeping you from tilting your head back, closing your eyes, losing yourself in how he felt slamming his hips flush against yours with dizzying smacks.

When you whined that you were close, he pulled you away from the wall and lowered you both to the ground, the wooden floor of his entryway cold and hard beneath your spine. It didn’t matter, didn’t do anything to stop the vortex tightening below your stomach. You slapped a hand over your face as it distorted in pleasure, Vernon kneeling between the legs you still had gripping his waist, one of his hands braced on the floor next to your head, holding his body over you.

“That’s right,” he breathed, gritted teeth flashing over you, forehead wrinkling as his own release closed in on the chase. “Just fucking take it when I fuck you into the floor.”

Then he was pulling out, breaths hissing through his teeth as he straightened up, one hand pumping himself furiously until strings of white decorated your stomach, cooling immediately in the apartment’s chilly air.

His breathing was ragged as he sagged back onto his heels, and you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, watching him warily.

Then he stood and slipped into the hallway bathroom, the light clicking on and illuminating the unlit entryway where you’d just fucked. You heard the sink run, then shut back off, and Vernon returned. He knelt gingerly - you could see his knees were red from kneeling on the wooden floor - and cleaned your stomach first, then gently between your legs.

You sat the rest of the way up then, watching him carefully as he sat back on his heels again, avoiding your gaze. Something about the moment felt like a thing alive, unfurling between you like a casablanca lily under the refracted light of the moon.

You spoke at the same time.

“Vernon?”

“You okay?”

You swallowed, rubbed absently at your elbow where you’d smacked it on the floor during the position change.

“I’m fine,” you said tentatively. “Are you?”

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, and then peering through his fingers at you for a second before dropping them again. “Thought I hurt you.”

You shook your head. “I’m okay. I would have said something.”

He nodded, relief starting to bring feeling back to his hands again. He stood and reached a hand down for you. When you took it, he closed his fingers around yours and pulled you to your feet.

“I know we don’t usually do this,” you said, rubbing at the parts of you that had been on the floor - the backs of your legs, your ass, “but could I take a super fast shower before I go?”

“Yeah,” he said, so quickly that the word almost trips on itself. “Of course.”

He led you into the bathroom, rummaged in the disorganized linen closet for a clean towel, pressed it into your hands.

“If you need one, too,” you said easily, as he reached around you to turn the water on so it could heat up, “I don’t mind if you join me.”

He paused. “You sure?”

You shrugged, then leaned over to put your hand under the spray, testing to see if it was still cold. “It’s your shower.”

Under the stream of warm water, you turned to face him, front to front, looking up at him with clear eyes. Something in your expression was so open, Vernon couldn’t help but feel both the desire to step into the space you seemed to be offering him as well as the desire to get far, far away from it.

He’d been so angry before you’d texted, furious enough that he’d bruised his knuckles punching the doorframe; now, as the chemicals in his body settled down, he felt those knuckles throbbing. He was disgusted that he’d lost his temper, guilty that he’d taken any of that anger out on you, who had nothing to do with it.

He was scared of the desire he felt to be closer to you, just for tonight. Scared that fucking you hadn’t been enough to soothe whatever it was that roiled inside him, like it usually was. Scared that he felt like he needed more than sex to heal this particular burn.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and part of him thought he was apologizing in advance, like he knew already he’d run scared at some point. “For being so...”

He didn’t know what word fit best.

“I told you,” you said, pressing a little closer, “I would have said if I had a problem.”

“Okay,” he said, frowning a little. “If you’re sure.”

Then he reached over and brushed a thumb along your cheekbone, chasing away a rivulet of shower-water. You closed your eyes for a second, and he swore he could feel you lean into the touch, just slightly.

He didn’t know how to explain how he felt. Kind of like he’d done a hot-coal-walk; the exhaustion that came with an adrenaline crash, the vulnerability that came after facing down something big, that need - the burn inside him needing cool water before it could quiet down.

With the shower off, the silence in the bathroom was loud.

“Do you…” Vernon started, then stopped. His heart hammered, the adrenaline returning. He covered the moment by toweling his hair roughly and pulling his hands through the strands so they’d lay right. “Do you want to stay for a little bit? I was gonna order delivery, maybe watch something before I finish my assignment.”

He’d expected you to think about it, to turn it over in your mind the way you turn his things over in your careful hands, the way you turn him ass over head with just a smirk. Instead, you nodded right away.

“Yeah,” you said, like it was no big deal. Like you did this all the time. Maybe you did, just not with him. “I was starving, actually. I could stay for an hour or two.”

On his couch, the leftovers of the food scattered on his coffee table, you reached for his hand, ran a thumb imperceptibly along his purpled knuckles. You didn’t ask what happened, just brought them to your lips and pressed the lightest kiss before putting them down again and reaching for your noodles, as if it hadn’t happened at all.

That was when Vernon saw the potential of it, an entire picture, framed and labeled: you could hurt him so badly if he let you, if he let it get that far. For whatever it was that burned inside him, you were the cool water… but you could absolutely be gasoline, instead.

1 yr, 3 months ago

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend the light that passed over your closed lids in a repetitive pattern was the sweep of a lighthouse beam. You could pretend that the rumbling bass of the music was the roar of the ocean. You could pretend that you weren’t here, in a shitty bar, but at the seaside. You could pretend that you weren’t alone. You could pretend that you weren’t you.

You drained your drink and caught the bartender’s eye, gesturing for another, sliding the sweating glass away from you once you knew a new one was coming.

“What are you drinking?”

The voice came from your right, and you lifted tired, disinterested eyes to find the source of it.

“G and T,” you answered, because it was one fewer syllable than saying gin and tonic and maybe that one syllable would do the dirty work for you and tell this guy that you didn’t want to talk to him.

“Nice,” he said, like you’d said something interesting, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You didn’t return the question, just slid your phone screen on and opened your messages.

wyd

drinks at my hyungs place. wbu

damn. guess i have to settle for one of these very mid prospects at the willow

damn thats a sad story. if only you had a better option

if only my better option werent busy at his hyung’s

no one said i had to stay here. ur at the willow?

yep

The guy to your right tried again. “The DJ tonight kind of sucks, huh?”

You looked back at your phone.

don’t leave

You smiled into your drink, a thrill dancing through your bloodstream. The lights and music didn’t seem as garish as they had ten minutes ago.

“My boyfriend’s on his way to pick me up,” you said flatly to the guy who kept trying to talk to you, “so you might want to find someone else to complain about the DJ to.”

The word tasted like lemonade on your tongue - acidic and sour, sweet and refreshing, taste buds blooming and shriveling in tandem. Even the knowledge that it was a flat-out lie didn’t stop your heart from beating faster.

You expected the guy to get up and leave, maybe throw you a dirty look on his way. Instead, he seemed to call your bluff, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to read you.

“I don’t think I’d let my girlfriend go out alone looking like this,” he said evenly, and you let out a derisive laugh.

“The fact that you just said the words let my girlfriend probably has a lot to do with why you’re here alone,” you countered, a flash of victory slicing up your spine when you saw his face flush.

Before he could retort, you hopped down from your barstool, pushing your way into the crowded dance floor. You didn’t even want to dance, you just wanted to get away. If Vernon wanted to find you, he could come find you. He’d told you not to leave, he hadn’t said make it easy for me.

He found you anyway; he made it look easy. He stepped around a group of guys talking in a circle and into your space, like he was following a path, like he knew there’d be room for him.

You were happy to see him. You were happy he came. You were happy to breathe him in, to feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne and hear your name tumble from his mouth like a statement. You were too drunk to tuck these truths away into pockets and folds where they would be harder to find.

You stepped to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. If he was surprised, his body hid it well. His hands came to rest on your lower back, pressing you closer to him as you leaned up to find his mouth.

You kissed him slowly, at odds with the frantic bassline vibrating under your feet. You let him tip your head back, changing the angle, sweeping your mouth with his tongue until you both tasted lemonade.

“Happy to see me?” he asked, a hint of a smirk on his face, one eyebrow arched in question and one half of his mouth twitching into a smile.

You didn’t have it in you to lie, so instead you said, “Your place?”

He led you outside.

As luck would have it, the idiot from the bar stood beside the front door, a cigarette between two fingers. His expression darkened when he recognized you, then further when he saw your fingers linked with Vernon’s as you stepped into the quiet night.

“Your girlfriend’s a fucking bitch,” the guy bit out, dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it.

Vernon’s eyebrows shot up.

Evenly, he said, “She’s not -”

She’s not my girlfriend. You felt your stomach swoop, and you felt yourself flinch.

“- a bitch. She’s just smarter than you.”

Vernon tugged on your hand, leading you across the street to his parked, waiting car.

You tried to bite back a smile, and he looked sideways at you, his own lips twitching.

“What?” he demanded.

“What?” you parroted.

He scowled at you, but his lips were just smiling. “What?” he asked again.

You laughed. “Let’s go,” you said. “The bitch wants to kiss you more.”

You expected his smile to sharpen. Instead, something in it seems to soften, changing from teasing to actual affection.

“Alright,” he said, turning to start the engine. “Can’t really say no to that, can I?”

“You could,” you mused, as he pulled away from the curb and the bar slid into nothingness behind you, “but I just don’t think you should.”

1 yr, 2 months ago

wyd

melting

srsly

no, seriously. i am laying on my living room floor like a starfish trying not to turn into liquid

come to hyungs

its too hot to move

i have an idea, come meet me at hyungs

You frowned at your phone. Of course your aircon died during the only heatwave you could remember in your entire adult life. Your whole body felt sticky; you were pretty sure you were stuck to your floor.

It was too hot to move.

what’s the idea??

you’ll see. i’ll order u a car. can you bring a couple towels?

“Vernon, no,” you laughed, your voice echoing.

He shushed you through laughter, both of you leaning on each other as you stood at the edge of the yard, the grass tickling the bottoms of your bare feet. Upstairs, at his friend’s place, you’d thrown back a few shots for courage before following Vernon out here, and you were feeling them, your head swimming like your body might soon be.

“It’s a circuit, see?” he tried to explain, pointing through the night, as if you could see through all the fences and over all the hedges. “Five yards, five pools, and then we end up right back here and we get in the car and go. Just follow me, don’t stop for anything.”

“Someone’s gonna call the cops,” you complained. “And these neighborhoods all have cameras.”

“That’s why we keep moving,” he said, his grin so excited and so un-Vernon that you almost couldn’t bear to say no to him. “No one’s gonna call the cops if we’re already gone - it’s not worth it. You ready?”

You hesitated. “You’re good to drive us out of here?” you checked.

He held up his hands as if to show innocence. “Only had a beer,” he promised. “But I’ve got something fun in the car for after, if you want.”

You felt your grin turn wolfish. “Okay. I’m right behind you.”

“Try and be quiet,” he warned, then took off running across the yard, cannonballing into the pool with a splash.

You tore off after him, leaping into the water and suppressing a shriek when the cold water hit you. You felt instantly sober, jittery with adrenaline, alive with laughter. You spluttered your way to the surface and pushed water away from your eyes, trying to find him through the shadows.

He was already climbing out the other side, water running down his back, the muscle shifting in the half-light as he hoisted himself back onto the pool’s deck. You hurried across the pool, climbing up beside him, giggling wildly.

“Shhh,” he warned, but he was giggling too as he led you carefully over the fence to the next yard.

As soon as you crept close enough to the pool to jump, a motion-activated light came on, flooding the yard white and causing you to cover your eyes.

“Quick!” Vernon told you, grabbing your arm and pulling you in with him as he jumped.

You let out a stream of bubbles and water rushed into your mouth. You felt your feet hit the bottom and you pushed off hard, surfacing quickly.

Again, you followed him across the pool, both of you laughing and whispering, “Hurry! Quick!” as you climbed out and headed around the house to the front yard.

“Okay, this is the hard part,” he told you, both of you shivering as the night air caught up to you. “We have to cross the street, hop the fence, and then the pool is around back.”

“I’m ready,” you promised, with a particularly hard shiver.

You sprinted across the street, both leaving wet footprints on the pavement. His hand felt warm in yours when he helped you over the fence, warm on your body when he held your waist as you climbed down.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you muttered, but giggles still spilled out of you.

“More fun than melting, right?” he asked, and you thought that you’d seen him smile more tonight than in whole months of coming together at night.

You thought you might move mountains to see him smile like this again, gums showing, open and honest, happy.

Then you were underwater again, swimming hard to keep up, following Vernon through the night as he pushed his way through some hedges and held them apart for you.

You made it to the last house before someone caught you, slamming the back door open and shouting, “Hey!”

“Go, go, go!” Vernon cried, laughing with such abandon that it sounded like goose honks, pulling on your hand as you both stumbled, dripping, towards the car.

You’d set towels on the seats before starting, so you tumbled into the car and he peeled away, both of you laughing wildly as you left the neighborhood behind.

It was miles before you calmed down, gasping in breaths and trying to hold them before exploding into laughter again.

“I’d better not end up on the news,” you scolded. “I’m in my underwear.

He gave you a searing sideways look. “I noticed.”

You felt yourself warm again, despite being in soaking wet clothes.

“Where next?” you asked. “Home?”

He let out a breath that was almost a sigh. “I don’t really want to go home,” he admitted. Then, “I was having fun with you.”

You considered this. “Not to be a cliche, but… I know a place.”

The quarry was quiet, surrounded by only trees; without posted lights, everything seemed to be just varying shades of black - the black of the water just darker than the black of the stone ledges just darker than the walls of trees just darker than the sky sprinkled with stars above you.

“We have to be careful,” you warned him seriously. “If you slip and get hurt, it could be bad.”

He turned the flashlight on his phone on and set it next to the metal rungs that jutted out of the stone, a makeshift ladder for the swimmers who came here during the day, when swimming was allowed.

“It’s going to be way colder than the pools,” you added.

“You’re not selling this very well,” he pointed out.

“Don’t be a chicken,” you teased.

He eyed the water. “I’m having second thoughts.”

You nudged him in the ribs, which caused him to squirm away, hands batting at yours, a noise emitting from him that made you laugh out loud.

“Are you ticklish?” you demanded. “How did I not know?”

“Come on, are we jumping or what?” he asked, laughing, still trying to keep your sneaky hands away from his ribs.

“Yeah, that’s probably the only way to actually get in,” you admitted, still laughing a little. Your abs felt a little sore from how much you’d laughed tonight.

You stood on the edge of the stone, toes curling over the ledge, Vernon’s hand tight in yours. You stood on the edge, the ink-like water beneath you rippling slightly, marring the reflection of the constellations high above you. You stood on the edge of something, knowing full well you were afraid to swim.

He counted you down, and together, you jumped.

The water was freezing - it hurt, it stung, and you shrieked and laughed as you surfaced. A foot from you, Vernon was shouting.

“The towels!” you told him, already swimming towards the little dot of light that marked the ladder.

Shaking and shivering, you reached your towel, wrapping it around yourself. Behind you, Vernon jogged up, making noises like a disgruntled horse as he found his own towel.

“Oh my god,” he groused, grabbing for you. “I’m freezing, come here.”

He opened his arms, the towel behind him like a wingspan, and you stepped into the space, letting him wrap his arms and his towel around you. You stood shivering together, trying to let your body heat chase the cold away.

You wrapped your own arms around his middle, pressing yourself closer as your legs shook, shivers rolling up your spine in waves as your body fought the chill.

“C’mere,” he murmured above you, holding you a little more tightly, his own teeth chattering.

It was the first time, you realized as you turned your head to rest your cheek on his chest, that you’d held each other. It was the first time you’d been between his arms when you weren’t fucking, the first time he’d tightened his grip around you for a reason other than gratification.

You didn’t want it - didn’t want to know that it felt nice in his embrace, didn’t want to know that it fit right and felt safe. You didn’t want to know that you liked it, didn’t want to have to fight against the humiliation of wanting more.

As soon as the full-body tremors died away in the warm, sticky night, you stepped away, eager to put distance between you again.

Later, he looked over at you from the driver’s seat of the car, red-eyed, his smile stretching slow and thick like putty. When you straddled his lap, his hands searching out the bare skin of your back, you rocked against him and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the column of his pretty throat until you were pulling groans from him with each pass of your hips.

Forget, you thought, as you pulled your underwear to the side for him. Forget every single thing but this.

When you slipped an arm behind his neck and pressed your foreheads together as you lifted and dropped, you weren’t sure whose memory you were hoping to erase with this most recent pleasure-chase: yours, or his.

1 yr, 1 month ago

There was no map or calendar to this thing your brain did. It was summer, the sun shone, and yet the days bled together again, sunsets swirling down the shower drain.

The last time you’d gone radio silent, the last time your world had gone grey without warning, Vernon had answered in kind. His own silence had shouted for him until you’d tempted him back.

This time, he didn’t resort to silence in retaliation to yours. Instead, he kept trying, relentless. If you’d had more presence of mind, you might have wondered why.

wyd

[ ]

yo. whats the deal

[ ]

i will have you know that this is very insulting

[ ]

don’t get mad but im coming over

“What the fuck, Vernon.”

“I said don’t get mad.”

“It doesn’t work like that. What are you doing here?”

He leveled you with a look. “You gonna let me in?”

“Literally, no.”

You hadn’t showered in days; your apartment was probably grosser than you were. The cat milled around your ankles, trying to weasel its way outside, and you hopped from foot to foot trying to nudge it back inside.

“Why not?” he asked.

You huffed, annoyed. But the annoyance was the first thing you’d felt all day, and something inside you clung to it, desperate for more of anything but the crawling nothing that’s kept you company for days.

“Because,” you grumbled. Because there’s nothing for you here. Because I have nothing I can give you. “I’m… just not in the mood.”

He stepped back from the door so you could see more of him. “I’m not asking you to be.”

“Then why are you here?” The words fell between you, heavy. If you hadn’t been so low, if you hadn’t gone all day without eating, if you hadn’t been on your thirtieth hour without sleeping, you would have known better. You would have realized that you were asking, if you aren’t here for sex, then what are you here for?

You wouldn’t have asked a question that you didn’t want the answer to.

He met your eyes. He seemed to teeter on the edge of telling you the truth, giving you the real answer. Then, he muttered, “Got bored.”

You knew it wasn’t the whole truth, and he knew you knew it, and yet neither of you were willing to look at it directly.

“I fail to see how that’s my problem,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He watched you for what felt like a long time, face serious, eyes glittering and attentive. Then, instead of answering, he repeated, “Are you gonna let me in?”

You frowned at him, but there was a little more pout to it than anger. “I’m all gross,” you said, instead of answering.

Something in him softened - it was visible on his face, in his shoulders, like he knew this was your way of saying yes. “So let’s shower,” he suggested quietly.

You felt trepidation, like part of you expected him to stay soft, to try to take care of you. To your relief, Vernon acted like everything was normal, scrunching his face at you when the water was too cold as he stepped in, washing his own body in silence and letting you do your thing.

He didn’t try to hold you, didn’t ask you when you’d eaten last, didn’t try to talk about it - didn’t try to fix it. He was just… there, and this - along with your first shower in days - was somehow revitalizing in itself.

You pulled on clean sweats, which was better than the day-four sweats he’d found you in. “The apartment’s kind of… sorry,” you mumbled, looking around the living room, feeling a bit of that familiar shame crawl up your neck as you noticed the evidence that you hadn’t been picking up, or running a vacuum.

Vernon flopped backwards on your sofa, unphased, one arm bent behind his head. “We’ve been doing this for almost a year,” he pointed out. “I know how it usually is.”

It isn’t usually like this. And neither are you.

You wondered when it happened - your ability to finish his half-thoughts, your ability to know what he meant when he only said a fraction of it.

You stood awkwardly beside the couch where he was lounging, and he looked up at you with a tiny, amused smile.

“What do you wanna do?”

What you really wanted to do was cocoon yourself in blankets again and put on repeats of a show you’d already seen. But now you had to look functional. You might be mad at him for showing up like this, now that you thought about it.

“I dunno,” you said, which was close to the truth.

“You wanna eat?”

“Honestly?” you asked, pursing your lips a little. “No.”

“Okay,” he said easily, and it struck you again how different this was than how Chan treated you when you were low. Chan would have already had the food delivered, and would be chasing you around the table with loaded chopsticks, demanding you take a bite.

“Can we just… watch something?” you asked, unsure.

Vernon wordlessly reached for your remote and held it up to you, nonplussed.

You wondered if it was an act, how easy this was, how unbothered he was, how he seemed to just understand what wouldn’t help.

You knew it wasn’t; you’d been around long enough to know that Vernon’s demons weren’t all that different from yours.

You settled somewhere between his body and the back of the couch, one leg bent over his legs, one of your arms over his stomach and his arm curled around your shoulders.

“This is weird,” you muttered into his chest, and his laugh rumbled under you.

“Why?” he asked, his smile big, like he thought you were particularly funny. “Not used to being big spoon?”

Not used to cuddling - with you.

“Yeah,” you said, because that was easier.

On your TV, a show ran through several episodes, the changing scenes splashing you and Vernon with changing colors, casting his face blue and then white and then black and then red and then blue again. Sometimes he’d watch, sometimes he’d scroll on his phone. You mostly felt his heart beating under your hand and let your mind whir.

At some point he started mindlessly (or not mindlessly, who could know) stroking your back, gentle touches brushing up and down, slow, slow, the way he always was. At some point you shivered, goosebumps rising along your arms, and snuggled closer to him. At some point he shifted you from slightly beside him to on top of him, a second hand slipping under your loose tshirt and joining the first in tracing stripes up and down your upper back.

You shifted against him, something coming to life with a shudder like the furnace in your parent’s basement on cold autumn nights. Heat worked its way slowly from your core to your stomach, down your legs.

He kept his eyes on the tv, innocent, but you could hear his heartbeat. It couldn’t lie and pretend.

You shifted again, squirming until you’d worked his t-shirt up just enough that you could touch skin, too. You trailed your own fingers over the inch of exposed stomach you’d found, and delighted in the way you could feel him start to harden beneath you.

Then, you delighted in your delight. It was the first good thing you’d been able to feel in almost a week.

You said his name, and he finally looked down at you, eyes nearly black in the unlit room.

“What is it?” he asked, and his voice was suddenly so low it sent shivers tumbling down each vertebrae and tripping over to your limbs. “Want me to make you feel good?”

No, you wanted to say as you answered his question by pulling the hem of his t-shirt higher, encouraging him to lift up so you could pull it off. No, just want you to make me feel.

1 year ago

Everywhere Vernon looked, all he saw was circles. Circle of red in his bowl when he inhaled. Circle of condensation on the table when he lifted his beer. Circle of light reflecting from his phone case, laying in the setting sunlight, to the ceiling. Above him, the ceiling fan circled lazily, nowhere to be.

And you - you and him. That was a circle, too. A cycle, at least, which was close enough in his opinion. Text, hook up, skitter back to your respective places, wait out the next weekend. It was as rhythmic and routine as waves breaking and then getting pulled back out only to come shatter on sand again. It was out of his control, up to forces far greater than he was.

Vernon’s friends had texted to hang out and he’d declined. He told them he was seeing his parents, but really, he just wanted to be alone. He wanted to watch the ceiling fan circle, he wanted to let his brain go staticky quiet, he wanted to burrow deep into things that made him feel less.

But he still, somehow, wanted to see you. He wanted to be alone, and being with you didn’t feel like not getting that.

It was a little scary, he thought, that you were the exception. That he could be with you without feeling the uncomfortable pressure of being with others, of having to be on, of having to fake cheerfulness and keep up with chatter that only exhausted him.

Vernon wasn’t a kid. He knew what it meant.

whats up

honestly not a lot. want me to come over?

Yeah, he did. He did, even if you weren’t going to hook up. He did, even if you were just going to lay on opposite sides of the couch and scroll on your phones. He did, and he hoped he’d end up with his arms around you, and he hoped he’d make you laugh at least once, and he hoped you’d stay and just be there with him after.

When you came over, he asked you how you felt about it - about him, about you and him. He asked by laying you on your back in his bed, by brushing fingertips along your face. He asked you by sliding your leggings away gently, pressing his mouth to each inch of your inseam as it became exposed to his dimly lit room. He asked you by kissing you through the lace you wore for him, then kissing the same spot once that lace was on his floor.

He asked you when he crawled up your body until his tip teased at your entrance and you whined, shifting to try to take him. And - when he took it slow this time, teeth scraping at your neck and then tongue hurrying to soothe the sting, his arms bracketing your body like he was sheltering you from an incoming storm.

(Maybe, he considered, he was.)

(Maybe, he considered, he was worthless in the face of this storm’s wrath.)

(Maybe, he considered, he was the fucking storm in the first place.)

And you heard his question loud and clear. You pulled on your leggings as soon as you were cleaned up, popping your hood up over your head as you searched for your phone. You kept your eyes on your screen as you waited for a car to come, murmured, “Later,” on your way out the door.

Vernon’s apartment rang with quiet. He was alone, he’d gotten what he’d wanted.

He’d also, it seemed, gotten his answer.

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thank you so much for reading!!! i'm always happy to hear what you think!

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lily-s-world · 4 months ago

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Julie and the Phantoms vs. Julie e os Fantasmas

I had recently been practicing my Portuguese and listening to music in that language, which lead me to the soundtrack of Julie e os Fantasmas. The original Brazilian version of the show. Funny how music works, because the more I listened to the songs the more I remembered about the show. Which is why I decided to make a list about the main differences between the shows.

First, the Brazilian cast and the name of their counterparts so you know who am I referring to:

Side note before we start, their music is also pretty cool. My favorite one is Essa noite somos um so (Tonight we are one). You can find it on Spotify:

The Brazilian show lasted 1 season with 26 episodes, which were divided in two parts from 2011 to 2012. However, the show was always planned with one season only, so it had a proper closure.

In the original version, Julie isn’t dealing with the loss of her mother. Her mother is alive but decided to take a job far away from them, which leads to Julie resenting her because she feels that her mother doesn’t care about them and only shows when it is convenient for her. This makes Julie feel invisible across her life.

Both shows revolve around music and how much Julie loves it. Julie (BR) suffers from stage panic, one of the reasons she had never sing in front of people. The phantoms help her with this. Also, her preferred instrument is the guitar.

The phantoms had a more tragic death on the BR version. They were trying to replicate The Beatles’ Abbey Road cover, but where hit by a truck and died instantly. One member was alive, but he retired from the music industry after the accident. They had been dead for over 30 years and were trapped on a vinyl record instead of a CD.

The phantoms don’t have their instruments like the new version. After they help Julie with her stage panic, she buys them new instruments and decides to form the band.

The name of the band on the show is Os Insólitos (The Unusuals). They play in different venues and parties across the season. Unlike the new version, they sing the same songs repeatedly across the episodes. There are some special episodes where they reveal a new song.

The Julies share basically the same personality on both shows. Martim and Reggie are also really similar, being a flirt and a little bit clueless. Felix is way more anxious and fearful than Alex, he was scared of ghosts since he was a kid and being turned into one didn’t help with that. Daniel and Luke are probably the ones with different personalities, while Luke is this cutie that falls for Julie almost immediately; Daniel is egocentric and cold at the beginning of the show. It takes a long time for him to warm up to Julie and is resentful against the world for what happened to them. He had a lot of character development during the season.

Pedro (Carlos) and Bia (Flynn) learn about the ghost right after Julie does. Pedro and Martim develop a friendship based on pranks and jokes.

Julie, Pedro and Bia are the only ones that can actually see the phantoms. Whenever they play in the band, they hide behind masks and keep the idea as a mystery to attract followers.

Julie and Thalita (Carrie) were also friends when they were younger. The reason their friendship didn’t lasted, was because Julie realized that Thalita was a bully that picked up on other girls. Julie cut out all communication with her, which Thalita didn’t took well and continued to antagonize her until they were teens.

The main difference is that Caleb doesn’t exist in this original version, there is an agent of the Ghost Police that looks for the boys because he is convinced they escaped the rules of death. They should have crossed over, but never did. There also some kind of ghostbuster that is looking for them.

At the end of the first part of the season, the boy say goodbye to Julie because they are planning to cross over; however it is later revealed that the ghostbuster capture them. They manage to escape and return with Julie.

Daniel develops feelings for Julie in the second part of the season, Julie also starts liking him, but she also likes Nicolas who had been her crush for years. Nicolas and Julie start spending more time together after he broke up with Thalita, and he develops feelings for Julie. At the end of the show Julie ends up choosing Nicolas, because she had liked him longer and he makes this grand gesture for her at school. She has a talk with Daniel about what they feel, and they both decide to still be friends and continue with the band.

Some fun facts: The show was sponsored by Monster High, so you can see a lot of merchandise in the show; Julie even dresses up as Frankie Stein for a Halloween party. The show was super popular, earning nominations for Kids Awards in LATAM.

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happylikeasadsong · 5 months ago

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syd x carmy in season three

i’m back here cause i have way too much to say than it can fit on thread on twt

this is just what i could come up after sitting on s3 for the past few days, i was spiralling, it was bad.

this will be a long one, so settle in!

for me, regardless if this season was supposed to be a two parter or not, one thing that’s clear to me is that we were meant to watch this rupture in their relationship develop throughout the season.

listen, he was locked in that freezer for hours, and in those hours he spiraled beyond control. we can’t expect sydcarmy to have the same dynamic as the past seasons cause they’re not in the same place they were before. Carmy locked in the walk-in changed him and therefore, changed their dynamic too.

he promised syd in the first episode that he was never gonna leave her alone again, but in his fucked up mind, this means never let her make a solo decision when is comes to the menu, is having him make all the decisions himself and have the last say and change her every input. For him, this is how he honours his promise and for syd is how he makes her feel under appreciated and undermined.

he makes it look like it doesn’t matter what she does, as great as it is, he’ll always change it and make it about him. the decision of having her as a partner takes her by surprise cause they have never discussed it, he dumps all of these things on her, first thing in the morning, she can wrap her mind around the fact that’s that same guy she left a few hours before. He’s completely changed.

And though she tries to at least get on board and support his non-negotiables list and the menu changing every day and all the bullshit with richie, by “doors” she’s already exhausted of trying to keep up with him, tired of being his babysitter.

so when that new opportunity is presented to her, she actually considers it because it’s a way out of working in a stress free environment where she has full creative control to shape the new place as she sees fit (also the pay and benefits?? I’d be signing that shit right there lmao). It really is an incredible opportunity.

so yeah, i feel like we were meant to see how they crack under pressure and this was something chris storer had said in interviews before when talking about s2 on how hard it is to open a restaurant and keep it running once you do. he always wanted to explore the gritty stuff and I felt like he accomplished that in this season.

from a narrative standpoint, at some point we had to see syd and carmy’s partnership is put to test, we need to see what falling out to the point of almost no return looks for them in order to see how they are gonna find their way back to each other. and i can’t see a better time to do it than now.

it can feel hopeless, yes, and feel like they’re not gonna make it to the finish line, but let’s remember this is a story about finding new ways to reconnect to the things/ people you love, found family and generational trauma.

we see carmy is at his lowest, sydney is at her lowest, so logically the only way we can get to is up.

i believe that after carmy confronted his abusive boss, he had some sort of breakthrough from the way he sighed after their talk. i took it as his way of beginning to process his trauma.

as for sydney, we saw how deeply the idea of leaving has affected her, even though she knows is for a better place where her ideas will be respected and appreciated they way she knows it deserves. hopefully her panic attack will be enough to make her realize she needs help making the decision (if she can’t have her best friend and partner for this, then she’ll have her dad).

all of this to say that i am hopeful and excited to see what’s coming next year, and i truly believe sydcarmy is on the right path (this is a slow burn doing slow burn things ffs). We can’t let go just when things gets interesting. im dying to see their big fight, it’s something I’ve been needing since s2.

they’re still soulmates (after we saw the invisible string scene, there’s no going back) and they had significant scenes this season too, just not the way ppl thought it would be.

let’s have them work it out on the remix

#sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #syd x carmy #the bear season 3 #sydney x carmy #the bear #spoilers #the bear spoilers

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libraryofneith · 3 months ago

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Hiding Place (Frankie Morales x GN! Reader)

Summary: a reunion between you and the guys goes south when you have a panic attack, but your friend Frankie is there for you

Tags: frankie morales x gender neutral! reader, platonic relationship between frankie and reader but it could be read romantically, hurt/comfort, fluff, wholesome

Warnings: PTSD, panic attacks, bullet wounds, very mild cussing

This was written for @punkshort AU August Writing Challenge! Thanks for this prompt, it was so much fun! Be sure to check out my joel miller x reader fic Out of Mind.

A champagne cork.

Or rather, a sparkling cider cork.

That was what started it.

It had flown off the bottle with a pop and gone whizzing past your ear as you were cleaning dishes. You'd tried to laugh it off with the others. It was just a stupid accident. Everyone was there to celebrate Benny winning one of the biggest fights of his life and you weren't going to spoil everything with another one of your stupid panic attacks. But the pop and the feeling of the cork flying past you had made time stand still.

Suddenly you weren't in Will's kitchen anymore; you were in a trench, a rifle in your hands, trying to find a fix on your target as bullets fired around you. Your hand went to your shoulder as if it had a mind of its own, grazing over the point where a bullet had shot through five years ago. It was throbbing as if it had only been five minutes ago. You could hear a voice far off. It sounded like it was a million miles away, barely getting through over the pounding in your ears.

"You ok?" You jumped. Frankie was standing beside you looking concerned. When did he get here?

"Yeah, fine. Just gotta take a leak." You pushed past him into the hallway, completely blundering past the bathroom.

Fuck fuck. Where were you? What were you doing? Your chest felt like it was tying itself in knots. You couldn't breathe. You blindly grasped a door handle and stumbled into what you realised too late was Willy's bedroom. As if the flashbacks weren't bad enough now you had to deal with the anxiety of going into someone's room without their permission. But you couldn't deal with that now. Alone, desperate and completely out of breath, you did the only thing you knew you make you feel better.

---

Frankie closed the bathroom door. Nope, not in there. There were three other doors on that floor - one opened to a study, one to a cupboard, and the third a bedroom. It seemed empty but he had this strange feeling of being watched, like someone else was waiting to exhale.

"Hello?" No answer. "You in here?"

"Down here." The voice came from underneath the bed.

"You ok?"

"Yeah."

"Is that why you're under a bed?"

"I… I just… It was just too much."

"Ok, I get it." He paused. He didn't want to intrude but he didn't feel he could leave it like that. "You want some company?" There was a lengthy silence before you replied: "Alright."

He shuffled while you scooched until you were lying side by side staring up at the graying mattress poking through the timber slides. It was a while before he plucked up the courage to break the silence.

"This takes me back."

You snorted. Depressing as it was, you'd spent more than one occasion huddled in a bunker or trench together avoiding bullets, drones or bombs.

"Everyone Ok out there?"

"They're fine, just worried about you." You groaned.

"Now I feel bad, I didn't want to make a whole thing out of it."

"No one holds it against you, we all have… stuff." Stuff. That was one way to put it. You started absentmindedly rubbing the bullet hole on your shoulder again.

"Still hurt?" Your hand flew back to your side.

"Sometimes, when I have these… episodes. Therapist tells me it's not actually the wound, just the trauma."

"Is there a difference?" You shrugged then winced. It was weird, sometimes you hardly felt it, sometimes - like today - it felt so painful you could hardly think straight.

"I'm sorry I haven't been there for you."

"It's OK, you had your own stuff to deal with."

"By stuff, you mean a pile of snow?" You weren't looking at him but you could still hear the self-loathing in his voice.

"Christ Frankie you know I don't blame you for that. After I got shot, I couldn't sleep without polishing off a bottle of whisky."

"You had a good reason."

"And you didn't?" you said, turning to look at him. It was dark under that bed but you could see those big brown eyes filled with regret.

"Not the same." Maybe not but Frankie still had wounds that couldn't be seen on his body. "I know after I just… disappeared."

"You were there when it mattered." You meant that in more ways than one. He'd been the one who dragged you back to his chopper, you screaming with every inch, him muttering "you're gonna make it, you're gonna make it" over and over. After, Pope told you he'd flown like a bat outta hell while you drifted in and out of consciousness. Everyone agreed that if anyone else had been the pilot on that mission, you'd have bled out before you got back to base. Not that it made a difference to Frankie. Something had changed in him after that. Then came the suspension for drug abuse and after that you both felt like animals used up then put out to pasture.

Your hand found his in the dark. He glanced down in surprise. You had always been close, the others always called him your work husband, only partly joking, and there had been times when it felt as though there was… something, like a line neither of you were daring to cross. But that had been a long time ago. You had lost touch after you came home and now he had a wife and a baby on the way and you had… your therapist? You didn't mind, honestly. Just, right now you needed him, his presence, his touch. Neither of you made any other movement. You just lay there under the bed, side by side, fingers interlocking.

"Hey if you assholes are fucking you can use someone else's goddamn bedroom" Will called out, having finally found you both.

"Fuck you William" you responded.

"What're you doing under the bed?"

"Hiding from you" Frankie replied. "Now piss off."

"Fine, not like it's my fucking house or anything." He slinked off muttering.

"We should probably head back out there." You started to crawl out but you were stopped by Frankie's hand on your shoulder.

"Can we… can we not?" You gave him a long look, then nestled back in next to him.

"Ok, whenever you're ready."

"What if I'm never ready?"

"You bring a book?" You both snorted. "But seriously, we can't stay here forever. You least of all, you have a life."

"And you don't?" You resisted the urge to face him.

"Honestly, not really. Maybe I should get one." Frankie didn't seem to have any response to that, so you lay next to each other in silence, counting the boards on the mattress frame. Finally, you asked, "do you think it's gonna be a boy or girl."

"No clue. We wanted to be surprised." At length, he added "hope it's a girl."

"Why?"

"Less chance it'll turn out like me."

"Would that be so bad?"

"You tell me." You found his hand and squeezed.

"I hope it's like you. World needs more Catfish Moraleses." His expression was inscrutable, until his voice finally husked out with all the fear, heartbreak and salvation of the past years,

"I really fucking missed you."

#shortieswritingchallenge #frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader

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mirai-e-jump · 3 days ago

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TV Life, 11/29/2024 Issue (No.23) ft. Miyabe Nozomi & Miyazawa Yu (translations below)

Publication: November 13, 2024

GavvPare! Vol.6 (Miyabe Nozomi)

-The main episodes that gave me confidence-

Let's backtrack abit and go over episode 7 and 8, which focus on Sachika. When I first read the script, I felt the difficulty of having to express a completely different side of Sachika's usual self through her past troubles and the problems she still faces. I'm not the type of person who shows alot of emotion on a daily basis, so I've never been angry like that in real life. I wasn't sure how to act it out, but Director Sugihara gave me the advice to "put more power into my eyes," and so I tried to play the role while being conscious of both the impression being conveyed through my eyes, and the gap between Sachika's typical smiling face and her enraged expressions. I was happy to receive tons of messages after the broadcast from viewers on SNS saying, "I cried" and "It was really good," and Director Sugihara also praised me. I gained confidence in my performance through these episodes, and it also motivated me.

Also, the scene with the paint being thrown on me was a valuable experience. In actuality, the paint wasn't real paint, but a mixture of dyes and flour, so it was alittle heavy, but during practice we used water, so the sensation was different. I think Tsujioka-san, who played Egawa, had a difficult time managing to do it. Still, I feel that the tension in the air, combined with the urgency and anxiety we both had, made for a scene that left an impact.

In episode 11, Shouma, Hanto, and Sachika finally work together. I personally enjoyed Hanto being pushed around by Shouma and Sachika (laughs). Hino-kun's comical performance really drew us in. Since there's been a series of episodes with more serious elements, I'd be happy if you could watch episode 11 while giggling.

Q: Tell us an unexpected side of Chinen-kun!

A: My first impression was that he was such a reliable person, that I couldn't believe he was younger than me, but right after filming started, I began to think that he "might just be an airhead." Recently, after the Director told him, "Next, we're going to shoot a close up of Shouma," for some reason he replied with, "Thank you very much" (laughs). I keep a close eye on him while thinking how adorable he is.

Off Shot: Nails that look like corn! I'm sure "Shouma" will say they look tasty. I also change my nails every time to match my outfits! _

BakuDAYS Vol.18 (Miyazawa Yu)

-I'm acting while being conscious of Sakito's growth-

Recently, the scene in episode 32 where Genba and Sakito clashed was particularly memorable for me, especially the sumo wrestling scene. From episode 35, in which Bundorio's past is revealed, as Byundi's partner, he had alot of feelings about it. I think it's only because Sakito's shared many experiences with Byundi up until now that he's able to understand both the joy of reuniting with Bundorio and the shock of learning about Bundorio's past. Although he understands Byundi's feelings better than anyone else, Sakito's very clumsy, so I was conscious of portraying the clumsy way he approaches Byundi, as well as the kindness he shows to him.

Sakito's been living in space since he was 10 years old, so there probably wasn't an environment for him to attend elementary or middle school to learn anything. Because of this past, my interpretation is that Sakito's a character that has trouble keeping his distance from others, is strangely calm in situations where others would normally be in a panic, and that he has an incredibly childish side to him. The experience he's gained as a Cleaner is an important part of Sakito, but there's also alot he's learned since encountering the Boonboomgers. He's always lived in space, so naturally, I'm sure he was confused and anxious about the sudden increase of friends. However, as a member of Boonboomger, Sakito has definitely grown. I'm conscious of acting in a way that brings out such perfect characterization.

Things will continue to rage on from here on out! Spindo, the final boss, has appeared, but I wonder what'll happen to the Boonboomgers from here. And then, how will the ISA play into the story? It'd make me happy if you'd look forward to the conclusion!

Q: Something you want cleaned up by the "Cleaner"

A: I've been filming Boonboomger for over half a year now, so I want to get my clothes in order. I'd like to get rid of things that need to be thrown away, so I'd like to have this cleaned up by the end of the year. I don't wanna have to drag this into the coming year! (laughs).

BakuageSHOT: A photo that was taken after filming the final scene in episode 37. Filming has entered the climax, and developments are going to continue to rage on from here on out, but as the Boonboomgers, we'll continue to overcome these "raging waves" until the very end! I don't want it to be over, but the six of us are going to push forward until the very end!

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drama-glob · 1 year ago

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SPOILERS FOR HELLUVA BOSS SEASON 2 EPISODE 7!!!!

Let me start off by saying F*CK YOU MAMMON!!!! >:( >:( >:(

Okay now, I LOVED THIS EPISODE because as much at it broke my heart with how much of a gut punch it was that Fizz has been putting up with Mammon for years, the fact that he got his freedom at the end with the constant support of Blitz and Ozzie, who genuinely care about him melted my heart as well. ^_^

I knew going in I was going to hate Mammon (because with how he runs his ring, I couldn't see how he could have any redeeming qualities), but he seriously was a bigger abusive d*ck and was way more blatant about than I expected. >:( Poor Fizz right off the bat with his unhealthy work ethic that he's not good enough and that his value is tied into his work, something that many of us (me included) have been guilty of. I blame Cash for being the most likely factor in why Fizz thinks that way, along with his idol worship of Mammon playing into it. >:( Also, that creep getting in Fizz's head was so messed up because we come to see how genuinely nice Fizz is and he sadly let what that guy said get into his head. ;_;

I'm so glad that Ozzie from the start is looking out for Fizz's well being and mental health, which is also really sad because he has no doubt had this conversation many times with Fizz about not needing to please Mammon and that he is good enough, only for Fizz to insist everything's fine when it's not. ;_; I also had a feeling Ozzie wouldn't be a fan of the Robo Fizzes given that he loves Fizz so much and knows what people use them for, so most likely it's part of the whole blackmail deal/Ozzie can't break out of making them so long as Fizz doesn't call it quits. ;_; I'm also happy that Ozzie clearly harbors no ill-will towards Blitz (which we already saw in "Oops," but it's nice that he knows Blitz wouldn't like the state Fizz is in and needs to cut ties with Mammon). :)

Fizz is just so talented with his craft, but the further pressure that he had actual competition from Glitz and Glam just made things so much worse, but of course Mammon don't care. >:( One of the absolute best moments though had to be the sweet little deaf kid signing to Fizz and Fizz signing back as well as sign his picture, so it was sweet and it helped Fizz's mental state temporarily. It was unfortunate that flipping creep came back and messed with Fizz once again, only adding to Fizz's panic attack that goes into overdrive once he sees Glitz and Glam perform. ;_;

My sadness only built as Fizz spiraled and tried to make himself "fine," but my man Ozzie being there as soon as he hears (from Blitz no doubt) that Fizz is not okay and him not leaving until he can get to the bottom of way Fizz is so adamant about doing this while trying to comfort him was wonderful. I legit cried, as I'm sure many of you did, when poor Fizz admits that he feels like practically nothing next to Ozzie and that without his job and the fame, he'd eventually leave Fizz despite how many years they've known each other and how much Ozzie does to remind Fizz that he loves him for who he is. ;_; ;_; ;_; It's sad too that Fizz has put up with the year of abuse because he felt he owed Mammon for leading him Ozzie, even though that's certainly not true. It really brought it in home just how much trauma Fizz has suffered and affected his mental state. I can only imagine how bad it'd be if he really didn't have Ozzie in his life. O_O The sweet, honest words from Ozzie afterward just reinforced my belief that Ozzie is the best boyfriend and their song "Crooked" was so saturated with lovey-dovey sentiment, I went awwww so many times and shows how lucky they are to have each other. ^_^<3<3<3

Fizz's "2-Minutes Notice" was absolutely incredible, (especially considering this was improv ;) ) and the fact Mammon didn't realize it was about him until the end was hilarious! XD But Fizz certainly proved how amazing he is and I'm sure Ozzie was more than happy to provide the magical backup to really stick it to Mammon. ;) ^_^ <3 It was really cool getting to see full demon Mammon and Ozzie, but it was especially amazing that Ozzie announced he loved Fizz to everyone so that he could no longer be blackmailed by Mammon and so Fizz could be free of that asshole; plus, he already seemed tired of hiding it. ^_^<3<3<3 Although Mammon will definitely come back for revenge on this sweet couple, Fizz and Ozzie get to at least have their peace for now and will face the future of their relationship being outed to all of Hell together. Also, those giant nuzzles from Ozzie are everything to me! ^_^<3<3<3<3<3

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jtl-fics · 2 years ago

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Fluent Freshman - Part 16

Sweeties is very busy tonight but they get a table relatively quickly. He sees some people looking at their group all dressed in the ‘required’ attire for going out to Eden’s and reminds himself that maybe it’s for the best that people remember him tonight. It MAY help the police find his body in a shallow grave somewhere if they can piece together his last few hours.

Nicky stops by the salad bar and grabs three packs of crackers. He hands one pack to FF who just stares blankly at it before shrugging and figuring his stomach needs something so he opens the pack and just eats the crackers.

Nicky looks at him with an abundance of fondness that he doesn’t understand but shakes his head and hands a laminated menu over to him to order dinner from. “I know you’re not drinking but you still gotta take your meds before we leave.” Nicky reminds and FF nods. He reaches into his pocket to confirm that they’re there and feels something cheap and plastic.

Oh god, he forgot to take his Happy Meal Toy out of his pocket. No one needs to know that.

He shoves his hand into his other jacket pocket and the sandwich baggy with his single dose for his Ulcer is right there.

He starts to look at the menu when he realizes that everyone else already knows what they’re going to order since they apparently come here regularly. He tries his best to never be a regular at any place where they can see him and repeat his order back to him (Hello CVS girl, yes thank you for holding some Pepto for him. No he is very brand loyal and would not like to try Tums thank you.)

FF stands behind the art of the panic pick.

He has cultivated this ability over his many years of panicking. He can look at a menu and pick an item that might not be the thing he most wants on that menu it is something that he can eat or drink. Then while he has that pick queued up and ready to fly if a member of the waitstaff comes over before he’s actually read what’s on offer he has his panic pick.

A place like this has GOT to have a burger.

He finds it under the sandwich section easily enough and now he has his panic pick as he peruses the rest of the menu.

The waitress comes far faster than he had anticipated and slams waters down at each of their spots. “What can I get you?” She asks and before anyone says anything Nicky and Aaron slide over the two packets of crackers that she takes before looking at the empty packet in front of FF, “Just two?” She asks.

WHAT KIND OF CODE IS THIS?

“Just two.” Nicky says grabbing his trash and handing it over to her.

She shrugs, “Anything else on the menu I can get you boys?” She asks.

They all make their orders and Nicky, bravely, steps in to remind him he likes his burgers well done when the waitress asks.

“Sorry, I should have warned you.” Nicky laughs bumping his shoulder against FF’s “This place has this stuff called cracker dust, it gets you high but it’s not addictive.” He says.

Every single 80’s PSA goes off in FF’s head all at once.

NICKY “FLIPS TURTLES BACK ONTO THEIR FEET” HEMMICK DOES NOT LOOK LIKE HOW THE ‘JUST SAY NO’ ADS HAD SAID HE WOULD.

There’s not a trench coat! He wasn’t even wearing a hoodie with the hood up! There’s no sunglasses! Nicky had given him a baggie for his ulcer meds but IT WAS A SANDWICH BAG.

“I see.” He says out loud.

“Do you wanna try some.” Aaron asks. He double checks and yeah Aaron is still in the same club clothes he had left the house with. He has on a hoodie but the hood is down.

He does as any 80’s teen sitcom protagonist does by the end of the episode.

“No thank you.”

He thinks Mr. T would be happy that he said No. That ad had been especially nerve wracking as a kid when Mr. T ‘shakes some sense’ into the camera.

“Alright, no worries. Neil and Andrew don’t do any either.” Nicky says quickly.

The drugs come with the food and Nicky and Aaron pocket them before handing over cash to the waitress who just counts it right there. He focuses on digging into his burger and realizes it has jalapeños on it but Nicky volunteers to eat them with his nachos and lets the conversation weave around him as he polishes off his burger and takes his ulcer meds. “Oh cool, hand me the bag so I can keep our stuff in there.” Nicky makes a grabbing motion with his hands and FF just hands it over.

He zones out as he eats his fries. He wonders if Great Gran is upset watching him or if she’s happy that he said no to drugs. Maybe he should have said yes, then he could at least be blasted out of his mind when Andrew dragged him to the basement.

Well, it’s too late now.

The waitress comes and clears out their plates but picks up her notepad and pen again. “So, what ice cream do you boys want tonight?” She asks and looks straight at FF.

But FF is prepared.

Ice cream places are easy. His panic pick is a given, it’s Vanilla. Every ice cream joint has it so he barely even notices how his heart rate kicks up to 190 BPM and his palms grow instantly sweaty.

“Vanilla.”

“Sorry Hun, we’re fresh out.”

OH GOD. QUICK, SAY SOMETHING ELSE.

“Surprise me.”

NO YOU IDIOT SAY CHOCOLATE.

“Surprise you?”

RETRACT, IT’S NOT TOO LATE.

“Yeah. Surprise me.” He repeats and he can FEEL Nicky vibrating with laughter next to him.

“Alright Hun, I’ll surprise you.” She winks at him and he blinks back at her.

The rest of the table all order (They’re all normal people who order strawberry (neil), the special with chocolate (Nicky), Lemon Sorbet (Aaron), and Brownie Fudge (Andrew).

“Surprise me.” Nicky whispers to him.

“I panicked.” He whispers back.

“Yeah obviously.” Nicky snorts but pats him, “It’s fine. The worst is you might end up with Pistachio or something.” He pats FF on the back.

FF likes Pistachio and the world loves to make FF suffer.

“Here you go hun. We just got this in, it’s Mango.” She says setting down two scoops of a bright orange ice cream down in front of him, “With a little surprise.” She winks again as she sets the other ice cream down.

They all get started.

Why is the Ice Cream kind of spicy?

He eventually puzzles out that the waitress has served him a Mango and some kind of pepper (probably habanero) ice cream. She smiles when he thanks her for the surprise, tries not to let it show how much the spice is KILLING his stomach let alone the acid of the mango.

Andrew has his eyes narrowed on him and he’s sure the man doesn’t want him to make a scene at a place that seems to be a frequent haunt for the family. So he eats every last bite and ignores how his lips tingle.

“Ohhh it must have been good. Maybe we should get you her number.” Nicky says looking at his empty bowl.

“No, I’m good.” She was pretty but considering the acid currently swirling in his stomach she probably thought he was an asshole for asking for her to ‘surprise him’. Even if that wasn’t the case, what if she thought it’d be cute to serve him this spicy ice cream as a cute couple thing? His stomach can’t take that.

“Aw man you’re no fun.” Nicky pouts.

They pay for their meals and the waitress hands him his receipt with a wink. He nods back at her before shoving the receipt into his pocket next to the Megamind toy. “Have a good night.” He says.

“You too Hun.” She says.

They head out for Eden’s and in a way the ice cream is a blessing because his stomach hurts enough that he barely even notices his anxiety about being at the place where Andrew most certainly is going to stab him at least once by the end of the night.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lilyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream

The requests to be added to the tag list got spread out across a few different mediums on this one so if I missed you I swear it wasn’t malicious I’m just brunch dumb at the moment. Remind me in the replies!

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

#fluent freshman au #I swear they're going to be at Eden's next time #The Ice Cream discourse made me laugh enough that I ended up writing about Sweetie's instead lol #The majority of you looked at my boy and saw Vanilla and you are not wrong #The Waitress: Marge those boys brought someone new and he's funny. He told me to surprise him for the ice cream flavor.#Marge (manager): Well what are you going to surprise him with?#The Waitress: Well he got the burger with Jalapenos so he must like spice. We got that new flavor in right? Can I dig into early?#Marge (Manager): sure #Andrew watching Nicky and Neil whisper and bump shoulders: I'll definitely show him the Speak Easy once Nicky and Aaron are fucked up #I would like to thank my buddy Kim for helping me workshop the most damaging ice cream flavor to FF #Originally was googling weird ones but truly few could be worse for his tummy #And he left his tried and true pepto at home. This really isn't his night #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #AFTG Fic #AFTG shitpost #my fic #FF - PT. 16

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rebelliousstories · 5 days ago

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Memories Long Since Past

Relationship: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes/The Winter Soldier x Reader

Fandom: Marvel

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst

Word Count: 2,043

Main Masterlist: Here

Marvel Masterlist: Here

Summary: The first time that Bucky is invited to celebrate Thanksgiving with his new doll and Sam’s family, it seems to be going well. That is, until the noise associated with large gatherings like this start.

Consider Donating: Here

Getting the invitation from Sam, or rather his sister, was a wholly unexpected experience that he could not figure out how to navigate. This was Sam’s family. This went further than two guys, or even two guys who worked together. This teetered into friend territory. Bucky did not know how to feel about that information swimming in his brain.

But when his beloved doll, his darling girl, and the light at the end of the dark tunnel opened an envelope addressed to “The Barnes”, he knew that there was no getting out of going to whatever it was. Besides, he may have been partial when they called her a Barnes; it just had such a nice ring to it. The fact that they sent an actual physical copy of the invitation to them was really a sweet touch.

He may not have been as technologically challenged as Steve, but he was not a pro at it either. It took fifteen minutes just to explain the concept of Facebook friends, and friend requests to him. Still, there was something comforting in receiving a paper invite, even for those more tech savvy.

The Wilson’s were hosting their annual Thanksgiving party at their beautiful home, and wanted the couple to make an appearance. Of course, she had jumped at the opportunity to go enjoy a party, and it did not matter that they were on nearly the opposite side of the country vertically from Delacroix, Louisiana. It probably did not help that she had yet to meet anyone from Bucky’s superhero team, which meant that she was extra excited to hear those stories told from another perspective.

Flying down was not a problem. James was still a good flyer after all these years. He did have to distract his doll a bit when they hit some turbulence, but it ended up being just fine. Once they landed in Louisiana, the warm humid air hit them like a truck. It was such a stark contrast to the frigid New York apartment that they had left at the beginning of the day.

They caught a taxi to their hotel where they got to enjoy a moment of peace before having to get ready to meet Sam and Sarah for dinner. Bucky let her take the shower first while he unpacked his suitcase on the bed that they would be sharing for the next five days. As he was putting his shirts away in a drawer with his pants, a loud bang thudded through the room. On nothing else other than muscle memory, James dropped and rolled, ready to aim and fire at the threat.

But there was no threat. There was no gun, or knife to aim. His girlfriend shouted over the sound of the water to put him at ease, but he knew better. There was still some of that training left in him that he would never get rid of. It was ingrained down to the bones. Rising, Bucky confirmed that noise was her.

“Yeah. Sorry beau! I dropped my body wash in the tub.” He let out a sigh of relief. They were safe. He was not in any danger. His girl was okay. Everything was fine.

He tried to go back to putting away his clothing, but his body ran on autopilot through the ordeal. Bucky’s brain started to panic. He was trying to tell himself the same thing he had been repeating for years now; I am no longer the Winter Soldier.

“Alrighty, all your’s baby.” Bucky grabbed the first pieces of clothing he could find and ran inside the bathroom. He did not catch the confused look that she shot him on his way in, nor the ask if he was alright.

Warm water cascaded over him and he let himself get lost in the sensation. Bucky tried to ease his mind from the instance that just occurred. It had been so long that he had a flashback like that. Sorry, episode. His therapist wants him to call the episodes. Now, James was starting to doubt whether or not that he should be going to the function tomorrow.

Stepping out, Bucky made sure to throughly dry himself, and he took extra care on his metal arm. He really did not need that thing to rust or short circuit. Although he was unsure if vibranium could rust. That would probably be a good thing to find out. Dressed in a comfy Henley, and a nice set of jeans, James made his way out to do his hair in the mirror.

From his spot at the sink, he could see his girlfriend doing her makeup on their bed. She had her light set up so that it was grunted to turn out well, and all of her products spread out on the towel n from of her. Her dress for that evening hung still, but that was alright by him. Once Bucky had finished making himself pretty, he went over to his lady, but made sure not to mess her up.

One of the things that he loved about her was the way she presented herself. She dressed like the 40’s that he had left behind. It was, in all honesty, a breath of fresh air from the culture and fashion of the modern day. Most of the time, she dressed in jeans or slacks, resembling more of a pin up girl, which was definitely okay in Bucky’s book. Yet, occasionally, she allowed herself a dress to wear out.

The way she applied her makeup was so masterful to James. He knew he had seen his sister and mother apply their own back in the day, but it was so different now. There was no rationing that limited products and ingredients. Everything was at your fingertips now.

Before he realized it, she was ready for her lipstick. Brilliant, victory red was swiped over her beautiful lips in the mirror. Bucky never understood why his sister and mother took so much time with their makeup, or why it even took so long; that was, until, he started dating his own doll. Now, he finally understood the artistry in the process. It was so relaxing for him to watch her do the routine that she knew so well with practiced ease.

“Ready?”

Bucky was snapped out his thoughts by his lover now standing in from of him in her dress. A flowing thing covered in white polka dots that broke up the navy blue background. The cardigan around her shoulders complemented the white accents in the dress nicely. He placed his haps on her hips, and drew her closer. His legs opened a bit wider to accommodate the new person. Letting his eyes trail over her figure and up to her face, he tried to smile reassuringly at her.

“Let’s go.”

Thank whatever divine being was out there that he had someone who was used to modern technology. If it had been up to him, Bucky would have figured out where this restaurant was on a paper map and use directions like that. However, his lady showed him how to take a texted address and paste it into the GPS system in his phone. When they were finally on their way, she gave him a kiss and teased him for being an old man.

Dinner with Sam and Sarah had been, so far, so good. James was a little nervous introducing them to her given that he was private by nature. However, once everyone had broken the ice, they were talking with each other like decades long friends. Bucky took a sip of the beer he was nursing and smiled as his girl and Sarah were laughing over a story together.

“Honestly, I am so excited for y’all to come over tomorrow. The whole family is gonna be over, as well as our other friends. It’s gonna be a great time.” Sarah gushed, taking another drink of her wine on the table.

“How many people are going to be there?” His girlfriend asked while mirroring her actions.

“Oh, maybe fifteen- twenty. Shouldn’t be too many people over.”

While everyone was a-okay with the number of people, Bucky was less confident. Had that episode not happened earlier, he would probably be fine. Yet, it did happen, and he was now panicking a bit on the inside. But his lady was going to be there. Everyone would be okay. Right?

Wrong. He should never have come to this event. James kept his back to a wall the entire time, and could not stop scanning the room. Everyone was so nice to him. Whether that was better or worse was up for debate.

The noises kept piling on. He could hear every conversation. Every sip of every beverage. Every chew. And he could have probably held it together had it not been for the children of the friends of the Wilson’s. To be perfectly frank, they were just being kids. Just like how Bucky and Steve had been once upon a time. But he was already on edge.

Boys being boys. That was all that happened. However, the sound of the crash they induced sent James over that very fine line he was teetering on. He set his beer down and made his way to the back door as quickly as possible, without alerting anyone. Or so he thought.

His girlfriend noticed that he had made a sharp exit from the party. She excused herself from the table she sat at with Sarah and one of her childhood friends. Making her way outside, she shut the door before turning to her boyfriend. Bucky’s head was in between his hands, with his elbows on his knees. He sat on the edge of the concrete in the back before it disappeared into lush grass.

She sat next to him and waited. Waited for him to tell her he was okay. Or for a sign that she could touch him. Without saying a word, he reached over and put her hand on his head. Scooting closer, her hand began rubbing comforting circles into his scalp while the other rested on his metallic forearm.

“I’m sorry,” came a murmur from his lips. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Hey, hey, no. There is nothing wrong with you. Talk to me, Buck. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

There was no talking for a while from either one of them. Bucky was trying to find the strength to speak, and she was making sure she was not pushing him to do anything that he did not want to do.

“Have I ever told you about the time that Steve came over for Thanksgiving the year his parents died? When he tried to help make something for dinner?” There was a distant look in Bucky’s eyes now, but it was better than torment.

“No. What happened?”

“Okay, so,” and with that he launched into the story of how Steve had to be taught how to properly peel a potato and almost sliced his finger off from the experience. The entire time Bucky was adding in little details, sound effects, and other people’s thoughts… probably. It had his doll in stitches by the time he was done telling the tale. Her army green dress felt so soft underneath his fingertips as he leaned over to stabilize himself from falling over with laughter.

Once they were done laughing for the most part, she looked into his beautiful blue eyes with such a kind expression.

“Do you wanna talk about what’s going on in that pretty brain of yours?” She offered softly, trailing a hand across his stubbly cheek.

“Maybe later. Right now, I just want to sit here with you.”

Bucky reached across and picked his girlfriend up, only to set her back down in his lap. Silence stretched to encompass the couple as well as a cool breeze. He buried his face into her neck, taking a deep breath of her perfume while he was at it. She provided so much warmth and stability to him.

James was not one hundred percent okay. He was not fully himself again. But the more moments like this he took, the more he felt like it.

#rebelliousstories #writing #marvel #marvel imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #james barnes #james barnes imagine #james barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #thanksgiving #thanksgiving imagine #thanksgiving 2024

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