#but maybe i didn't mean it when i said that

[lcriedlastnight]

Hii! I have a request:

Lando's 'friend' (who actually has a crush on him) is rude to his girlfriend (Reader), and reader doesn't say anything because she doesn't want to cause problems. But Lando finds out somehow and decides to show his 'friend' just how much he loves his girlfriend.

I see it more as a kind of smut, but whatever you're comfortable with is fine!

hi! tysm, i don't think i'm completely comfortable with smut, sorry!!

if you see any mistakes you actually didn't because i don't make mistakes that's actually just how those words and spelled now.

1.5k words

"does she not bother you?" carlos asks you as he watches her throw herself all over your boyfriend. you watch along as well because what were you supposed to do? you sure as hell weren't saying anything to him, they had been friends longer than you had even known lando and you were not the type of girlfriend who told her boyfriend who he can and can't friends with, even if one of them is so clearly throwing herself at him and does not want a platonic relationship with him.

"it just baffles me how he doesn't even notice it. he's completely oblivious. it's insane." you reply back to the spaniard. "she's so rude to me too. i don't think she's ever been nice to me."

carlos scoffs, knowing all too well what she was like, i mean he's had to deal with her for a great deal longer than what you've had to. you're heart does go out to him, poor boy.

before carlos can actually reply to you though, lando makes his way over and of course she is hanging off his arm, like usual. you've never said anything to lando before because you can see every single way that the conversation goes pear shaped but she is acting like she's the one dating your boyfriend and you're just clinging onto him. if nothing it's embarrassing for you and you're friends hadn't been as kind when they told you how looked from the outside.

lando walks over to stand right beside you with his 'best friend' on his other side. carlos give you a look that almost makes you laugh. it was supposed to be a serious look but carlos did not pull it off as effectively as he would've wanted with the alcohol coursing through his veins.

"hey." you greet them both, giving lando a little side hug then taking your arms off him completely. lando looks confused but he doesn't even get the chance to say anything about it because she is opening her mouth and her voice hurts everyone's ears, you're sure of it.

"you not even gonna say hello to your mans best friend?" she slurs, you aren't sure how much she's had to drink but it explains how handsy she was tonight. she's never usually this bold when you were around.

"i did, i was saying hello to you both." you try to clear up. being sober you were not in the mood to argue with some drunk girl who so clearly wanted what you have.

"mhm, sure. you just wish that you and lan are as close as we are!" she giggles. carlos can't even hold in the noise he makes at that and he knows that he has to leave before he says something he might regret in the morning. he leaves with a 'goodbye mate' to lando and a sympathetic look to you, feeling bad for you leaving you.

"why aren't you drinking, lanny?" she asks, voice all high pitched it makes your ears ring. god, you have never wanted to leave somewhere as quick as you did here.

lando gives you a look that you don't have time to decipher before he turns back around to her to answer.

"well, we are going out tomorrow and i don't want to have hangover tomorrow." it's a simple explanation and it's the exact same he had told you when you were both getting ready at his. she grunts and grips his bicep maybe a little too tight for a friend, but again, what were you to do about it?

"ugh, you should just drink! remember when we used to go out partying all night? those were the days huh? no one tying us down?" this tips you over the edge and you decide that it's maybe better for you to leave before you can't control your words or actions anymore.

"i think i'm going to head home." you tell lando, no explanation. lando frowns - you can tell he wants to ask you whats wrong but he can't because she's literally pulling him away from you and towards the bar with what you can only describe as an evil smile on her face.

you decided that lando has to know. this conversation was not going to be easy.

★・・・・・・★

after talking to lando you realise that he actually did start to notice how weird she was acting so it did make you feel a little better. what you weren't looking forward to though was a dinner to celebrate her birthday that you had both been invited to. you were kind of surprised that you had even been invited but still you both decided to dress up and attend the fancy dinner.

lando had promised you in the car that he wasn't putting up with her bullshit tonight and he was just going to tell her directly - her birthday or not. it didn't make you want to attend the dinner anymore than before though.

as lando pulls the car into a parking space around the side of the building, he pulls the hand break up and pulls your hand into his with a promising look in his eyes.

"i know you really didn't want to come tonight - you don't know how much it means to me that you have. i promise the minute she starts i'll call her out and put a stop to it. in front of everyone if i have to." the look in his eyes is enough to tell you that his words hold meaning so you believe him and let his press a sweet kiss to your hand before he;s running around the front of the car to open your car door for you and lead you into the restaurant.

making your way inside you catch the eyes of all of her posh, stuck up friends and they all give you the exact same dirty look that, if it was anyone else, would've made you curl up and wish the night to end so you could go home and cry about it but that was not on the cards for tonight, so you put on a brave face and walk towards the two free seats, clinging onto lando's hand. he gives you a quick squeeze.

the dinner doesn't actually go too bad, but you think that's because you aren't seated close enough to her for her to actually interact with you or lando. you both just keep to yourselves until the end of the night approaches and offers of heading to a nearby club to celebrate further are being thrown around the table like confetti from a canon.

"you'll come out with us, right?" you hear her call from the other end of the table, she was always so desperate to make conversation with lando she would scream at him from miles away. it wouldn't take an idiot to notice lando's discomfort so that's when he decides to excuse himself and head to the toilets to 'freshen up', leaving you alone in your own personal version of hell.

the table was loud, it had been all night but you can hear the words she brags loudly, almost like she wanted you to hear over the bustling crowd surrounding you.

"yeah she's just place holder, lando told me that i was the one for him and that he's just looking for an excuse to throw her to the curb!" her voice is as shrill as usual, maybe even more.

you don't think yourself to be a secure person much but you think this moment may go down as the one moment in your relationship with lando that you think that you are the girl you would pick over anyone else. you feel the rage boil up inside you and just before you can stand up to call her out of her complete and utter bullshit of a lie, a hand is resting softly on your shoulder and before you know it you get a fleeting glimpse of your boyfriend's cheeky smile before he is practically eating you whole.

you and lando have had your fair share of passionate kisses throughout the course of your relationship but every single one of them had been in the privacy of one of your homes, so to kiss him like this where anyone could see, where she could see? it filled you with so much joy and possessiveness that you could never imagine you were even capable of.

lando pulls away with a smile but is leaning back in for a few more quick kisses like he can't get enough of you before he is properly pulling away and holding a hand out for you to take. the entire table is silent, the first time the whole night you think. holding your hand just like when you both arrived, lando throws some cash on the table.

"that's for our meals, thanks for the invite but i don't think we'll be seeing each other again...ever." lando says before practically dragging you to the car, desperate to get you home.

[its-avalon-08]

I don't know if you're taking requests, but can you do something where the reader and Lando broke up after they had a stupid fight about where readerfeels they haven't spent any time together so lando tells her to leave in a fit of rage. (One Lando regrets and is very sad. Sad boy.) And a few weeks later reader gets into a accident and the hospital calls him because he's next of kin when they were dating and when he gets there he's freaked and the doctors surprises him by saying the baby's fine, but reader tells lando that he has to be there for them both thats why she didn't tell him because she didn't want her baby to feel second best. Happy ending, though, please. I'm sorry if that's long.

never enough (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, break up

The tension in the room was suffocating, every word between them cutting deeper than the last. Y/N stood near the dining table, her arms crossed, her face a mixture of frustration and heartbreak. Lando sat on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair.

“You don’t even try anymore, Lando!” Y/N’s voice cracked as she spoke, but her words were sharp. “I can’t remember the last time you actually looked at me like I mattered to you. Do you even care?”

His head snapped up, his eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare say that, Y/N. Don’t you dare act like I don’t care. I’m doing my best here!”

“Your best?” she scoffed, her tone bitter. “Your best is spending every waking moment either at the track, with the team, or in your own world. You’re never here. Not really.”

Lando stood abruptly, the movement startling. “I’m sorry that I have a career that demands everything from me! What do you want me to do? Quit? Give it all up just to sit here and hold your hand?”

“That’s not what I’m asking for, and you know it!” Y/N fired back, her voice trembling with barely contained anger. “I’m asking for you to make time for me. For us. But I’m always the one waiting, always the one begging for scraps of your attention. I can’t keep doing this, Lando. I feel like I’m not even a priority anymore!”

His fists clenched at his sides, his voice rising as frustration overtook him. “And I feel like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you! I’m stretched thin, Y/N! I don’t know what else you want from me!”

“I want you to act like you actually love me!” she shouted, tears now streaming down her face. “Like I’m more than just someone waiting for you at home!”

“Fine!” he yelled, his voice thunderous in the quiet room. “If I’m so terrible—if being with me is such a burden—then maybe you should just leave!”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and Y/N froze, staring at him as if he had just struck her. “What?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Leave,” Lando said again, though his voice was quieter now, the anger giving way to something more hollow. “If this isn’t enough for you, then just...go.”

Her breath hitched, the weight of his words crashing down on her. She shook her head, her voice trembling. “You don’t mean that.”

“Maybe I do,” he muttered, though his eyes betrayed the regret already forming in his chest.

Y/N’s hands trembled as she grabbed her bag from the chair, slinging it over her shoulder. “You’ll regret this,” she said quietly, her voice breaking on the last word.

He didn’t respond, his silence cutting deeper than any argument could have.

And when the door slammed shut behind her, the emptiness it left behind was deafening.

-- time skip --

It had been weeks since Y/N left, and the emptiness in Lando’s flat mirrored the hollow ache in his chest. The regret weighed heavily on him, an unrelenting reminder of what he had lost. He tried to focus on racing, to bury himself in work, but it only made the silence louder.

Every room held memories of her—the scent of her perfume lingering in the air, the mug she always used sitting untouched on the kitchen counter. He stared at it now, running his thumb over the rim, a pang of guilt twisting his stomach.

"I’m sorry," he whispered to the empty room, though he knew it was far too late.

His phone buzzed on the counter, jolting him from his thoughts. The screen lit up with an unknown number. Frowning, he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Is this Mr. Norris?" a calm but urgent voice asked.

"Yes, this is Lando Norris," he replied, his chest tightening with unease.

"This is St. Thomas’ Hospital. You’re listed as the emergency contact for Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been in an accident."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. "What? An accident? Is she okay?" His voice cracked as panic surged through him.

"She’s stable, but you need to come down to the hospital immediately."

Lando didn’t think twice. Grabbing his keys, he bolted out the door, his heart pounding in his chest. The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, every possible worst-case scenario playing in his mind.

At the Hospital

He burst through the hospital doors, scanning for the reception desk. "Y/N Y/L/N," he said breathlessly. "She was in an accident. Where is she?"

The nurse directed him to a room, and he practically sprinted down the hall. When he reached her room, he froze in the doorway.

Y/N was lying in the hospital bed, her face pale and a bandage on her forehead. But she was awake, her eyes widening when they landed on him.

"Lando?" she asked, her voice faint.

"I’m here," he said, stepping inside. His voice trembled as he approached her. "God, Y/N, are you okay? They told me about the accident—"

"I’m fine," she interrupted gently, though her voice was tired. "Just a few bruises and stitches."

Before he could respond, a doctor walked in, holding a clipboard.

"Ah, Mr. Norris, I’m glad you’re here," the doctor said with a kind smile.

"Is she okay? What happened?" Lando asked, his panic bubbling to the surface again.

"She’s stable, and the baby is fine as well," the doctor replied casually.

Lando blinked, the words not registering at first. "The baby?"

Y/N closed her eyes, exhaling deeply.

The doctor, sensing the tension, quickly excused herself.

Lando stared at Y/N, his mind racing. "You’re pregnant?"

"Yes," she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the blanket covering her legs.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked, his voice breaking.

She finally looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears. "Because I couldn’t do this alone with you half in and half out of our lives, Lando. I needed to know you’d be there. Not just physically, but really there. For me and for this baby. I didn’t want my child to feel like a second choice."

"Second choice?" he repeated, his voice filled with anguish. "Y/N, I’ve made so many mistakes, but loving you was never one of them. I was stupid, I was selfish, and I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to balance everything. But this? This is everything. You and our baby are everything."

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she listened to his words. "Lando, I can’t do this if I’m going to be fighting for your attention. Our child deserves better than that."

He moved closer, kneeling by her bed and taking her hand in his. "You won’t have to fight anymore, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be there for you and for our baby. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. Just—just don’t shut me out."

Her lip trembled as she stared into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in them. "I need you to mean that, Lando. Not just for me, but for them."

"I do," he said firmly, his voice steady despite the tears pooling in his eyes. "I’ll be there for both of you, every step of the way."

After a long pause, she nodded, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. "Okay. But you get one chance, Lando. Don’t waste it."

"I won’t," he vowed, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

For the first time in weeks, a sense of hope filled the room. It wasn’t going to be easy, but together, they could make it work.

time skip

Months later, Lando stood in a nursery he had painted himself, his hand resting on Y/N’s bump as they admired the crib he’d built.

"You really went all out, didn’t you?" she teased, smiling up at him.

"Nothing but the best for our baby," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Y/N smiled softly, her heart full as she rested her head against his shoulder. Maybe they had started rocky, but in this moment, she knew they were exactly where they were meant to be.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Author's note: happy BUNNYCEMBER everyone :3

Summary: day before Christmas, kids fast asleep..so what's better way than to make sure you were a good girl this year?

Cinnamon in the air, fire clicking in the ingle

Warm blanket, hot chocolate with extra portion of whipped cream perfectly blending into the Christmas scenery you, Anakin and your twins had put on.

You could hear the faint rustle of Anakin fumbling with the large sack of gifts he insisted on dragging out of the bedroom to make the moment more authentic for the sake if the kids decide to suddenly wake up to see the 'Santa'. When he finally emerged, your giggles started before you could even take in the full scene.

“Stop laughing,” he grumbled, though the crooked grin tugging at his lips said he didn't mean it

But how could you not laugh? ANAKIN SKYWALKER, in a full Santa suit—complete with the fake beard hanging precariously under his jaw—looked like he was on the verge of a cosplay catastrophe. The suit clung too tightly to his broad shoulders, and his tousled hair was already poking out from under the red hat.

“Santa Skywalker, huh?” you teased, watching as he crouched by the tree, carefully arranging the presents. “Shouldn’t you have an elf helping you with all that?”

“Oh, I do,” he quipped, straightening and dusting his hands off. His gaze turned sharp as he stalked toward you, leaving the sack by the fireplace. “But I think my elf’s been a little naughty this year.”

Your laughter bubbled up again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. The beard had slipped entirely off his chin, leaving him free to press soft, warm kisses along your neck.

“Have you been a good girl this year?” he murmured against your skin

“Good enough,” you whispered back, though the grin you couldn’t suppress betrayed your innocence.

“Mm, I don’t think so,” hands slipping down to cup your ass through your cozy pajama shorts. “Because a good girl wouldn’t be giggling at Santa like that. A good girl would be sitting on his lap, showing a little respect.”

Your laughter turned breathy as he nipped lightly at your collarbone, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to brush against your skin. “Is that what you want? For me to sit on Santa’s lap?”

His hummed in approval, his lips trailing up to your ear. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Before you could respond, he tugged you toward the couch, pulling you down so you were laying on it. The warm touch of his hands on your thighs as he spread your legs made you forget the ridiculousness of his costume. The way he looked at you—like you were the only gift he’d ever need—had your pulse racing.

“You look so beautiful,” his tone softening “But I think Santa deserves to see a little more of you.”

His hands were everywhere—trailing up your thighs, gripping your hips, sliding over your stomach while his lips captured yours in a deep kiss.

With one swift motion, he pulled your shirt off, leaving you bare to the warmth of his gaze. His eyes swam in the look of the curve of your breasts - as if he was salivating like a dog

“I don’t think I’ve told you enough how fucking good you look tonight,” his gaze dropping to the lacy bralette you’d thrown on earlier. His fingers slipped beneath the band, teasing the soft skin of your breasts. “This? It’s a gift, isn’t it? Wrapped up just for me.” he pulled on a strap and let it go, giving you a light smack from it

You barely managed a breathless, “Maybe"

“I’ll unwrap it,” he said, pulling the fabric down to expose your perky breasts. “Cause what a Santa I'd be if I'd neglect such a present from my favorite girl?”

You gasped as his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking gently before biting just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through you, letting it run down to pool between your legs

“You laugh at me in that stupid suit, but look at you now,” he rasped “Trembling for me. Always trembling for me.” His lips moved harder, like a starving man in need, leaving marks that you were sure you’d see in the morning.

“Tell me,” he demanded, making sure to pay equal attention to your other breast - because after all, how he could just neglect the other when the two of them are so perfect because they're yours? “Tell me how bad you want me right now.”

“So bad,” you managed, your fingers tangling in his hair as he carried you to the couch.

“Not good enough,” lips kissing your belly till he reached your hips - biting and licking the skin there. His fingers yanked your pajama shorts off, leaving you in those lacy panties he had bought you last year for Christmas. He knelt between your legs, hands sliding up your thighs as he stared down at you like you were a true feast. “Say it like you mean it.”

You swallowed hard, heat pooling in your stomach as his fingers teased the edges of your panties. “I want you, Ani..I nee--.”

“Uh-uh,” he interrupted with another letting go of the material to let it smack against your skin “Santa.”

“just-please-,” you whined, cheeks heating at his words.

“That’s better,” he murmured, dragging the lace down your legs before leaning in, spreading your thighs even more and burying his face between them "oh baby..like a true candy cane" his tongue flicked over your entrance in a way that had your back arching off the couch. “But I don’t think you’re ready for me yet..”

His mouth was magic against you, every flick of his tongue pulling you closer to the edge. His lips teased, sucked, and swirled against your sensitive clit, making you squirm in need. The pressure was unbearable, but not enough to push you over—yet. Your hands gripped the cushions beneath you, your breaths shaky as you whimpered his name, craving more.

“Santa doesn’t deliver until I hear real begging,” Anakin's voice muffled as he sucked gently, then harder, making your legs tremble around his head.

“Ani, please…” you begged, voice barely above a whisper “I need you. Now.”

He pulled back, eyes dark, a smirk playing at glistering his lips. “You sure, baby? You want Santa to stuff you full like one of his toys?”

You could barely form words, nodding desperately, body trembling with. The ache between your legs was nearly unbearable, but you knew he was holding you at the brink, just waiting for the right moment.

“That’s my girl,” Without another word, Anakin shifted, positioning himself above you, and after all the cursing at the thick belt, he entered you, filling you oh, so completely. The stretch of him inside you made you both gasp. His eyes shut, trying not to spill already, before he started to move - slow at first, yet deep, just perfectly enough to build much more pleasure in your body

“Anakin… please…” you gasped, fingers clawing at his back as you tried to pull him closer, needing him so desperately. “Don’t stop. Just go harder.”

He groaned, eyes wild, brows furrowed in this so painful yet so pleasurable, even delicious squeeze of your walls. “You want it like that, huh? You want me to fuck you like an animal? Like Santa's little doe?”

“You’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow, baby. I’ll make sure of that.” he whimpered “Do you feel how deep I am, sweetheart? No one else could fuck you like this. No one else deserves to.”

His hands were all over you now, gripping your hips, pulling you closer, thrusting into you with a speed and force that had your body shaking beneath him. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, your breath ragged and quick as the pleasure built higher, closer and closer to the edge.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. You needed to let go. “Anakin… I’m close, please…” you whimpered, your body tightening around him, your entire body on the edge of breaking apart.

The pace of his thrusts quickened, his breathing ragged as he pushed you closer to the edge. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Gonna let Santa give you the best Christmas present you’ve ever had?”

And with one final thrust, you did, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. Anakin followed moments later, his groan muffled against your neck as he spilled into you.

“Happy Christmas, love” Anakin muttered, lips brushing against yours

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[stevieschrodinger]

"No." Chrissy crosses her arms over her chest.

Eddie flops onto the bed dramatically, fucks it up, and slides onto the floor.

"But what about-"

"No."

"Chrissy-"

"No. This is it. This is your last chance. No fucking about, no forgiveness, no come back, you get that, right?"

"Yeah but they said that every other-"

"The label is ready to drop you."

"What?" Eddie screeches and climbs up off the floor. He's shirtless and sweaty, his hair half sicking up half sticking to his sweat. "They can't do that."

"They can. They will. The lawyers are already involved, Gareth's ready to walk away."

Eddie feels like he's just been slapped. Punched. Like he fell maybe, like that moment when you're nearly asleep but your body jolts you awake, a half remembered dream that you just tripped and went head first off the stage. "You're lying-" Chrissy doesn't lie, "Gareth. The guys, none of them would-" but he sees it now, sees it through unfortunately sober eyes. See's it in the look on Chrissy's face. Can look back at the half remembered drugged up haze of all the shit Eddie's gotten up to over the last two years. All the times he didn't show. All the times he pulled bullshit. All the times he staggered into practice, late and drunk. All the times he turned up high. All the times his therapist has made him talk through his mistakes, to own them, to be truthful with himself about his problems.

Eddie can't have a drink. He can't smoke anything or inject anything or shove anything up his nose. He has to deal with it. He has to see it. There's a mirror next to Chrissy, big and ornate, and overdone, just like everything else in the room. Drug addict Eddie decorated this room, black and red and gilt. Arrogant vampire chic. Eddie thought it was cool. Four months of rehab and therapy and he's come back to a bedroom he fucking hates. The godamn carpet is black; who even buys black carpet? The top of the dresser is a mirror; easier for the coke.

Eddie should have torn it all out already.

He stares at himself in the mirror. He doesn't even remember getting some of the tattoos he has. He's too thin, bony, sick looking. His skin is flush pink with rut and there's a wet patch where the head of his cock hangs heavy. Chrissy does not give a shit.

"Eddie, honey. They all would. They all will. This is what I've been telling you. They are done. One more slip, and that's it. Rehab said absolutely no emotional entanglements while you're vulnerable-"

"I am not fucking vulnerable-"

"Nothing at all that could undermine your progress. No Omega's Eddie, I mean it. No drugs. No rut suppressors, no hormones, no nothing. Eddie I have been through this place with a fine tooth comb, I swear to god there's not so much as a Tylenol in this whole building."

"But what if I get a headache?" Eddie asks, suddenly feeling pathetic and weak as a kitten.

"Steve will get you an ice pack."

Eddie blinks, "who the fuck is Steve?"

"He's here to help you through your rut-"

"You said no Omega-"

"He isn't. He's a Beta, and he's the best there is at this. He will feed you, he will nest with you, anything you need, he will get it for you, he will look after you, he will let you scent him until your rut is done-"

"But-"

"Beta scent is calming!" Chrissy talks over Eddie, "this is not a sex thing, you need to rub one out do not do it in front of Steve. Do not piss him off, do not push his boundaries, am I clear? The center highly recommended him for this, okay?"

Eddie rankles with irritation, with displeasure.

Chrissy's nose crinkles at the scent, "look, I chose Steve to reduce the risk okay, male Beta is about the safest person you can be with right now. You have been clean for nearly five months Eddie, please. I am begging you, not for me, for you, you will hate yourself for the rest of your life if you fuck this up again. And actually also for me because watching them rush you into intensive care I-" She stops, looks at the floor, "for me Eddie- I cannot watch you go through something like that again, okay? I am asking you as your friend, please."

The OD was stupid; but Eddie had it in his head he was immortal at the time. "Okay Chris. Okay."

"Good. Thank you. I...won't hug you right now though."

Eddie looks down at the tent he's pitching in his sweats, "that's fair."

Chrissy opens the bedroom door and leaves, there's a man standing there. Eddie's preference isn't men, and Chrissy knows that. Hell, Eddie would take an Alpha over a Beta, and Chrissy knows that too.

Eddie takes a deep breath. The voice of his therapist mutters something about judging people by their desirability. They've talked a lot about Eddie judging people; can this person provide drink, drugs, or a fuck? No? Then what's the point of them.

It's a hard thing to change, when that's been your worldview for years. Even so, Eddie cannot see the point of this man; so he shuts the door in his face.

[jajanvm-imbi]

The fact that Stolas was allowed to get away with ALL of the shit he did to Blitz by lying about what he did is honestly a little upsetting.

If Stolas confessed what ACTUALLY happened, if he confessed that he allowed Blitz to use Grimoire for sexual favors, I would maybe have more respect for him.

But he LIED. He spout out this "Mastermind" bullshit and was able to get away with abusing someone of a lower class for his sexual pleasure.

Clarification because people are being stupid:

Wasn't the whole point of Ozzie's and Ozzie/Fizz supposed to be that the idea of Demon Royalty having any sort of intimate relationship was seen as scandalous?

I'm not saying the court would have cared if Stolas abusing an Imp would have gotten him in trouble, but the fact that Stolas slept with an Imp at all would have at least caused some scandal, and Stolas could have faced societal consequences for sleeping with an Imp (in addition for letting an Imp use the Grimoire).

But that detail has been relatively inconsistent throughout the whole series, especially with Bee and Tex.

And it doesn't even matter if Stolas faced legal consequences for sleeping with an Imp, if he just admit what he did was wrong in front of Blitz, taking responsibility IN PUBLIC for his actions would have been better for their supposed "relationship"

It could have shown Blitz that Stolas DID care about him. If this was well written, it could have easily contrasted with what happened in Ozzie's. Stolas hiding his face, ashamed of being seen with Blitz in public, resulting in Blitz feeling rejected, to then Stolas telling all of the most important people in Hell that they DID have a sexual relationship, but he called it off because it didn't feel right anymore.

Like I genuinely don't understand how this is so difficult to understand. What was the point of Stolas lying about having this grand Master plan or whatever if he could have just told the truth and the outcome would have been the same???

But noooooo, we can't do something that makes SENSE in this series in order to have meaningful development, nah we gotta add random shit for no reason!!!

Stolas would have been stripped of his power anyway AND faced the consequences of what he did to Blitz AND it would have developed their relationship in a way that feels MEANINGFUL.

For some strange reason it's like the writers consistently forget things they did in PREVIOUS EPISODES

It would have been so much more impactful if Stolas just told the TRUTH!!!

Stolas faced consequences, but not for his abuse towards Blitz, he only faced the consequences for Blitz's use of the Grimoire.

And we're meant to see it as this big huge heroic romantic gesture towards Blitz????

I'm getting so sick if this shit. I'm getting so sick of Vivziepop REFUSING to actually make Stolas face the consequences for what he did to Blitz. I think she still believes he didn't actually do anything wrong.

And stripping away Stolas's title and power is just a way to try to get people to stop throwing the fact that there is a MASSIVE power in balance in Biltz and Stolas's relationship in her face.

"He's not a prince anymore! They're equals now! They can be together!!" I can hear them say.

Doesn't change the fact that when Stolas WAS a prince, he did in fact ABUSE Blitz

It WAS an abuse of power. Stolas coerced Blitz into a transactional sexual relationship by only giving him access to the Grimoire if Blitz slept with him.

I am going to make the same argument others have made because they are absolutely correct:

If Blitz was a WOMAN, yall would be losing your SHIT over how manipulative and abusive that is.

Just because Blitz said he didn't mind doing it doesn't mean it wasn't an abuse of power.

Edit: I didn't even use the main tags this time???? Where are all of yall Stolas defenders coming from?? I used the critical tags EXCLUSIVELY it's like yall are LOOKING for people to fight with

[multipleoccupancy]

George had only continued chanting as she stepped away from him, clearly having to repeat a verse while she debated on whether or not she was going to do as he instructed in her disgust. He held it out again and was glad when she took it from him even in her sour muttering to which it appeared he did not react to. Internally he might have been wishing he could roll his eyes, she couldn't have an amulet like that and be squeamish!

The tail disappeared into her mouth and George slowly moved to put his hands on both of her shoulders, waiting for her to relax again, mindful not to do it too fast and he held no grip in his touch, just resting his hands on her while he said a few more words. There was a slight fizzing sensation from his touch and George changed to a slightly paler colour but he stopped chanting and then took his hands from her shoulders, drawing in a breath.

He watched her and debated his options for a moment, he could tell her a lie and to keep the tail on her tongue, it would keep her quiet and he would take some enjoyment out of making her put up with that until they got out of the club or longer he supposed if he really wanted to. It would be funny usually but he also didn't want her having any of his blood. "Spit it out," he instructed, offering her a tissue from the box on the coffee table. "It is so that you specifically are invisible, I would have answered but I would have had to start again if I had." He paused to observe her, "You cannot be seen by anyone but me," and a few more powerful beings if they were present but that hardly mattered now did it? "Their eyes will be drawn to me instead and it will be like you are not there. But it means you have to stay close, go too far and they will see you again."

Now for the memory ritual, at least that one was just verbal. Though maybe he should take some precautions too? "I will need some of your hair, just so the next relates specifically to you. The alternative is your blood."

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

As it turned out, following George was not all she had to do. Violet stared in horror as he offered her the tail of a dried lizard, covered in his blood no less. She had been very polite for the entire duration of his ritual, knowing better than to interrupt or say anything. Even though she didn't like rituals, right now she knew she didn't have the moral high ground. She'd performed a ritual of her own mere minutes ago. But putting a blood-covered lizard tail on her tongue? He hadn't said anything about that!

"What? Why?" she blurted out, unconsciously stepping away. "Is it... sanitary?" She didn't want to have his blood in her mouth! She didn't want to have a dead lizard tail in her mouth either!

Violet had eaten monster meat before, she wasn't exactly a squeamish girl anymore. But this was very different. It wasn't like the lizard was cooked. And it was, at the risk of repeating myself, covered in his blood! Why did he even need ingredients? Was he some sort of fairytale witch? Evil Theo never seemed to need any ingredients -only his terrifying cane.

After a long, uncomfortable minute, Violet relented and grabbed the tail. Oh, she was not happy about this at all. But if it was needed for him to perform the ritual, then... "You could have warned me beforehand," she muttered sourly, before doing as instructed and placing the small tail on her tongue, fighting the urge to gag.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve froze after he jumped back into the Munsons' living room, Nancy and Robin following after him. He didn't care that the gate stitched itself closed. Eddie was lying on the couch, covered in blood, and his eyes were closed. Steve collapsed next to him. Oh my god. Eddie was dead. Dustin came from the back of the trailer just as Steve took Eddie's hand.

"Eddie, Goddamnit, I told you not to be a hero, and what did you do? You went and sacrificed yourself, and for what? What the hell did you do?!" Steve asked, sniffling.

"Steve, wait - " Dustin started to explain.

"You know, I was looking forward to getting to know you. I can't stop thinking about what you said. About me being a good dude and I can't believe that you were jealous, too. I mean, Dustin looked up to you, too. I know how much this is going to kill him - " Steve continued, not hearing Dustin.

"Steve, really, this isn't necessary - " Dustin tried again.

"I liked seeing you with Dustin. I liked that you're so good with kids, man. I wanted to hang out with you know, and I even think maybe take you out on a date. I think I was making a move on you, I didn't even know it. Of course, I know who Ozzy Osborne is! Who the hell doesn't know about him and the bat? I think I was trying to make you crazy like you make me crazy, the way you did when you threw me up against the wall of the boat house. I felt something, this electricity. . ."

"Steve, seriously!" Dustin shrieked.

"You're so unbelievably hot, and now I can't believe that you're gone, I just don't even know how I feel about you," Steve cried. "And you're just gone."

"Jesus H CHRIST!" Eddie exclaimed, his eyes snapping open.

Steve screamed and fell backward.

"Anyway, like I was trying to tell you, Eddie's not dead. He's fine, Steve," Dustin said.

"The blood. . ." Steve said.

"Yeah, the bats tore each other up as they died. It's their blood. Although, I think they got me a little bit," Eddie said.

"So. . .any chance that you didn't hear any of that?" He asked.

"Nope! Heard every word," Eddie said. "Don't worry, big boy, you drive me crazy, too."

He pulled Steve up and crashed their lips together. They laughed against each other when they heard Dustin squeal.

"Cool!"

Steve pulled away, leaning his forehead against Eddie's.

"Glad you're not dead."

"Glad I'm not dead either."

[seobinghard]

𐙚⭑𓂃 KISS ME ✰

roommate!mingi x gn!reader ⭑ wc: 400 (?) ⭑ tags: sickening fluff, crack, roommate!au. ⭑ tw: none. ⭑ summary: you accidentally broke mingi's laptop screen but instead of getting mad at you, he proposes a sweet deal.

you fucked up.

"mingi, i need to tell you something. i'm so sorry!" strings of apologies spill from your lips like an idle spell as you latch onto your rommate's hoodie sleeves in a futile attempt to stop him from entering his room.

"y/n, why are you apologising?" mingi laughs, ruffling your hair. he finds it so adorable how you're tugging at his arms like a little puppy. "what's going on?"

poor mingi is completely clueless at what's about to hit him, but you know he won't be anymore once he marches into his room and discovers the product of your chronic clumsiness on his bed—his macbook and its broken screen.

"what the– my macbook!"

mingi's gasp reaches your ear and you cringe in fear.

wait, maybe if you act cute, he'll forgive you. he always does.

so you enact upon your mission and pull the most guilt-tripping puppy eyes known to mankind. "it was an accident, i swear! i was vacuuming the living room and your laptop was on the floor. i may or may have not stepped on it— ugh! i'm so, so sorry!"

mingi stops in his tracks and glances at your pleading face. shit. you're cute.

"fuck, y/n, you should've been more careful," he softly scolds, raking his fingers through his hair, "that's twelve hundred just for the screen."

"what?" you screech. you don't have that kind of money lying right now, especially not when you have to pay off your car by the end of this month. "you're kidding, right?"

mingi sighs, "no."

oh, fuck. you're really fucked. mingi keeps all his music recordings on his macbook; it's practically his baby. you know he won’t ask for payment upfront, but the guilt gnaws at you like ants on candy.

"but."

you look up, catching a playful glimmer in your roommate's gaze. he takes a step towards you, and instinctively, you take one back—until you're suddenly backed against the wall, trapped by his towering build. a smirk blooms on his lips. you gulp. code red. help.

"if you're really sorry..." mingi drawls, leaning down to meet you on your eye-level, his nose millimetres apart from yours. he smells like rain and sun-dried sheets.

"i'm really sorry," you reiterate with frantic nods, eyes glossy with guilt.

mingi smirks at your reaction, then he taps his right cheek. "then kiss me."

your body freezes, brain rewinding the two words that just slipped from his lips.

mingi taps his cheek again as if reminding you he's still waiting for what he's owed. "c'mon. you said you're sorry, didn't you? i'm waiting."

it takes you a split second to realise he meant every word he said and heat rushes to your cheeks. no one knows you have a crush on mingi. it would be hard not to, especially when you're living under the same roof and he walks around shirtless half of the time. he's hot, smart, tall and single. he has the goofiest personality yet is the first person you go to for financial advice. he calls himself a gym rat but you'll catch him munching from your stash of snacks at one am like a starved hamster. he has the cutest laugh and the most adorable boba eyes—oh my god. are you in love?

"y/n?" mingi waves his hand in front of your face. "look, i'm just joking. you don't have to–"

his words are cut off when you press your lips against his. a fleeting kiss; nothing more, nothing less.

mingi's eyes widen, his hands subconsciously reaching for your waist but you pull away just before he could.

"there," you breath out shakily, quickly looking away, face bright pink. "i kissed you. will you forgive me now?"

mingi is stunned. forgive you? hell, he'll do more than just forgive. matter of fact, he'll buy out the entire apple store for you to destroy if it means he'll get a kiss from you every time you break a screen. but as the true blue logical man that he is, mingi simply opts for; "you're forgiven, cutie."

you let out a sigh of relief. phew–

"can i get another kiss?"

[simpjaes]

do we think anyone in the hyung line would be into voyeurism whether it’s being the watcher or the performer 🤭

☆ jay:

Watcher but also down to be a performer, it's gotta be like, mutual tho. like mutual masturbation. He'd rather not be watched if he's the only doing anything. [unless he's being a cam boy, it would be different bc he wouldn't show his face and also strangers would be watching so....] anyway, i think he'd love to watch you tho, and even have you sit between his legs and touch yourself for his camera or in front of a mirror. if we are talking about watching other people have sex tho....listen. the man doesn't mind cucking. he also probably wouldn't mind sneaking a peek at his best friends when they're railing their girl either. definitely shamelessly gets off to it in the open, but prefers to not be caught if that's the case. if he gets caught, you'll never see him again. definitely sneaky w/ it.

★ jake:

performer 1000000%. given, if he's a performer it means he's probs into watching too but i think he prefers to be the center of attention. likes to have his hand down his pants in semi-public places if the mood is right too. Parties, in the library, at the dinner table, etc. something about the thrill of no one knowing what he's doing while looking him in the eye. I also do think he'd use it as a means to entice too, flashing his cock at pretty girls if they show an interest in him after a little while of flirting, def down to fuck them in his car with the windows down in broad daylight too.

☆ sunghoon:

watcher. prefers not to be seen jerking it or getting it on but looooves seeing other people do it. the type to seek it out from time to time. Accidentally walking into closed bedrooms at house parties just so he feels that warmth in his gut, closely watching how touchy his friends are with their gfs, has even asked once or twice if his bros would ever fuck their girl on cam for him to watch. maybe they did do that for him too, who knows? definitely a window peeper if we wanna go into criminal territory. the type to jerk off outside of windows and/or on someone's belongings just because he saw them with their legs spread around someone else lmfao. AND JUST TO ADD A LIL MORE SAUCE TO THIS ONE: i think he prefers thin walls bc if he can't watch, he at least gets to listen, right?

★ heeseung:

both. will force you to watch him fuck other people or jerk off just to get a reaction out of you, especially if you're just fuck buddies. Will also show up at your house when he knows you're with someone else, just because he knows you'll let him in, and he knows you can't stop him from watching. he'd definitely be a jealous type though, sitting there in your room watching some guy try to do what only he can do for you. Up until said guy is like " i didn't sign up for this" and leaves. thats when heeseung really would become a watcher, making you touch yourself and letting you feel empty and unsatisfied. would probably coo out at you when you finally have a shitty orgasm, like, "would've been better if you just called me in the first place, wouldn't it?"

[ifyouhavetoast]

It's been a few years, but I think my best friend since kindergarten. I could be so wrong though

this always changes depending what i'm fixated on but rn i'd say ford pines

it depends what time and like what age i am, but yeah, very fuzzy and light. sometimes i struggle with speech, but not all the time

yes!! it just depends what i'm fixated on atm, like right now.....i think u can take a good gander

too young or preschool (0-4)

i'm an only child

somehow both, i'm technically still growing up, and i get told i'm both an old soul and childish

my first piece of agere gear was this baby paci, it's pink and yellow and i found it from my baby stuff and i saw it was still in the package and unused, so me being me...i took it (and i was praying my mom wouldn't notice) (spoiler alert she didn't)

idk...haven't really thought about that. probably just the same as my usual aesthetic (metalhead), just a little more childish

i've been lurking inconsistently, but if you count that, then since early 2021

planes and cars.......rhuifhruifh i lvoe planes and cars the thought of them makes me wanna curl up and regress i need to wacth cars RIGHT NOW

both :D

YES i didn't think i would

yeah, but when i do, i usually don't mean to or i'm just discreetly regressing for a sec since i don't have a caregiver or whatever + i'm just not used to regressing around others, makes me nervous even if they're okay with it

i don't know what this one means......

a real adult paci, or maybe diapers

yeah, but usually regressing makes me feel better and i'm just chilling

i'd like to say i am, maybe not around others, but when it's just myself i'm pretty comfortable with it. i mean, i've been regressing for almost 4 years (oh my god it's been almost 4 years.), so it's pretty much normal stuff to me and i'm very used to it

an escape and a way to cope. i'm super busy with school and extracurriculars and other stuff and it stresses me out, so being able to just go little and not need to think about any big stuff for a while really refreshes my mind.

no idea, haven't been back here in a second

PROBABLYYYY i just don't remember the exact scenario but i most likely have...i swear everything happens in my dreams, i have the weirdest dreams ever

i'm not really into cookie run as much as i used to be, but i've been willing to die on the hill that pure vanilla cookie is a caregiver since 2022

not too sure, like i said, i haven't really been back in an online agere space in a while. from what i remember, i remember seeing an awesome fic and reading it and they say something like "baby girl" and i died inside a little but yk it could be different now lolol

not sure...maybe a kitty since i usually fall asleep when i'm little

very, i've never had a caregiver and i'm very nervous to look for one...i'd rather my caregiver be someone i already know and trust, but i don't think anyone would do that. i've tried looking online to connect with others, but they never got back to me

ehhhhh sometimes. like i said, i regress young but then catch me playing roblox or something

i don't really play pretend a lot...probably because i struggle with it

vampire!!!!!!!!!!!1!!!

holding my stuffie i've had since i was like 2 or 3

naptime and cuddles :,(

🌙 Agere Ask Game!!! ⭐

🖍 Who is the first person you told/would tell about your headspace?

❤ If you had a fictional caregiver/little who would it be?

🩹 What do you experience when you regress? (i.e fuzzy feelings, motor skill or speech struggle, etc.)

🧡 How often do you regress or try to regress?

🍬 Do you read agere fanfiction and if so, about who?

💛 What school grade (if any) would you be in according to your headspace?

🧸 Are you an older sibling who regresses/caregives or a younger sibling who regresses/caregives?

💚 Were you considered an "old soul" growing up or were you more "childish"?

🧩 What was your first piece of agere gear or what would you want as your first?

💙 What's your regression/caregiving aesthetic? (kidcore, babycore, altcore, etc)

🍭 How long have you been apart of agere tumblr?

💜 What are you obsessed with right now in your headspace? (sanrio, sharks, bluey, etc)

🍼 Do you include your personal nostalgia in your regression/caregiving or are you creating new memories?

🖤 Have you met any other regressors/caregivers in real life?

🪀 Have you ever regressed in front of someone or has someone ever regressed around you?

🪁 Is your headspace affected more through traditional or alternative regression? (bottles & cartoons or horror & thrill)

🎨 What's a piece of agere gear that you really want to have/try?

🍬 Have you ever experienced vent regression?

🦋 Are you comfortable with your regression/headspace?

🧚‍♀️ What is age regression/caregiving to you?

🧦 What's something you like & don't like about the agere community?

🦇 Have you ever regressed in a dream?

🌸 Who do you headcanon as a regressor or caregiver? (fictional or real)

🐈‍⬛ Do you think you're represented enough in the agere community? (poc, boys, under 20/over 30 yrs)

🧃Which animal best represents your headspace?

🐇 Has it been or was it hard for you to find a little/caregiver?

🎀 Does your headspace match the gear you use/want? (i.e. regresses to 10 years but loves pacifiers)

🎮 Do you struggle to play pretend or are you super imaginative?

🌈 What mythical creature would you rather be? (Hybrid, Fairy, Dragon, etc)

👾 What's the quickest way to get you in your headspace?

💭 What's one thing you often daydream about doing with your little/caregiver?

[decemberelegy]

I love watching people argue so ofc I can't look away from this Max/George thing. First of all, I think this shows that George has the fighting spirit required to be a world champion, which makes me happy. I'm surprised by how rattled Max is about it, to be honest. He's clearly responding in anger, which is still an emotional state rather than logical. He was quick to say on the radio today that Lando didn't slow down for the yellow flag and in his battle for the championship, he had no qualms about running Lando of the track multiple times just to ruin his race. George has said as far back as Baku 2023 that he doesn't make room for Max Verstappen in a RedBull, that he's fighting for every second, for every point. He's proven today that he'll do that by any means necessary. And honestly, if he's not prepared to do that, he has no business being in this sport. I'm glad to see him be so cutthroat. Wasn't Max the one that said that if you don't show up with the intention of winning, you might as well stay home? George has said last week that he's ready to bring the fight to Max. He has constantly said that he wants to beat Max and Lewis, because these are the best drivers on the grid right now. Well, he's been placing better than Lewis in these last few races, and he decided to fight Max on a technicality. Because you pull no punches when you're at this level. Maybe George keeps a more professional persona when he's in front of the cameras, while Max is quick to express his anger. Maybe this duality, of speaking calmly to the media and fierce with the stewards is what rattled Max. That's his problem to deal with.

People are nuanced. I'm not trying to psychoanalyze them or pretend to know what goes on in their heads. I just genuinely enjoy watching arguments, even though they're a little more fun in fiction, when no real people are getting hurt. In 2023 Max called George a dickhead. They moved past that, both understanding that things like these happen when your competing at this level. Maybe they'll process this better when they've both cooled off. I will be in my corner praying to the powers that be that Mercedes remember how to build an F1 car over the winter, so I can see George actually fighting for a championship on the track next year.

[demon-country]

The fact that I have already seen a good number of people complaining about how mean Stolas was supposedly being to Blitz in his song and thinking that he legitimately believes that Bliz is a wretched little worm that he owns is just. Utterly baffling. I'm genuinely unsure how anyone could miss the fact that it was an act. It was all a ruse he threw together on the fly in an effort to protect Blitz, wherein he pretended to be a big, bad, masterclass manipulator who was just using Blitz as his pawn.

For anyone who doubts it, here's the truth straight from the song writer's mouth:

This is literally the same exact ploy he pulled in Truth Seekers. He came in at the last minute and put on a big show to convince the people threatening Blitz and the rest of I.M.P that he was a big, scary demon who was so much more powerful than them (which he is) and practically owned them as his minions used to carry out his evil deeds (which he doesn't).

Though, perhaps I shouldn't be too surprised, since pretty much everyone I've seen talk about that scene fails to realize that that and his "who dares threaten my impish little plaything?" and "what's the matter, demon hunter? Never seen a real demon before?" comments were nothing but an act and he didn't actually believe any of it, too.

In Mastermind, he was trying to make sure that all of the blame would be put on himself, so that, as shown above, they would give Blitz the same treatment the others got when Blitz claimed they had nothing to do with it and were just following his orders.

In Truth Seekers, he was trying to intimidate the humans and make them so scared he wouldn't need to resort to violence to stop them. Why else would he put on that whole horror movie display and announce himself and his relationship with Blitz at all, if his entire goal was anything other than to incapacitate them with fear? If all he wanted was to get I.M.P out, he could have quickly and easily killed them without saying a word. Calling Blitz his plaything and saying that he was a real demon served to a) establish that he was the kind of person who had playthings, because that's the kind of cruel, domineering creature that most humans expect demons to be, and b) further intimidate them by implying that he was exponentially more powerful than the demons who just decimated their whole entire team.

He didn't mean any of it either time (except for when he called Blitz an idiot, maybe); those weren't things he actually believed. Why would he legitimately think of Blitz as his plaything and someone he owns when in both cases it was far enough in the timeline that he was already in love with Blitz and wanted a real, genuine romantic relationship with him and not just the fleeting taste of one he got while restrained by the full moon deal?

Those were classist/racist things to say, of course, and that was the point. That was language he deliberately used because it fit the persona he was using to appear villainous. Where he went wrong the first time and how his actual internalized racism came into play was in how he didn't for even one single second think about how those statements would look to the members of I.M.P, because he'd never once had to think about the fact they must get those kinds of demeaning comments all the time and had no way of knowing that he was faking. Calling them "little creatures" while he was scolding them probably wasn't part of the act though, and he didn't realize that it was classist/racist to say those things at all, regardless of intent, so he never apologized or reassured them that he didn't actually believe Blitz was his plaything or that they weren't real demons.

But with the power of hindsight and a more omniscient view of the characters that we get later on, it's so clear to see that all of these comments were only said as part of his theatrical portrayals of a villain, rather than things he truly believes, because he doesn't talk like that after Ozzie's when he realized just how much he had unintentionally been hurting Blitz. Don't fall for his ruse, guys, especially not when it's as blatantly obvious as it was in Mastermind.

[shitty-obeyme-aus]

Okay, I didn't mean the games were going to die tomorrow.

I understand that this post has shitty wording, but what I meant by "killed off" wasn't "shut down". If I meant "shut down", I would have said that.

When I said "killed off", I meant the content was going to dry up, effectively killing off the games since without new content, the game's player base will dwindle, and eventually get lower. Maybe they'll maintain a solid base until the game implodes, but it's going to be lower.

And obviously if you're wondering why I didn't say that in the original post, that's valid. The reason is that I wanted to make a stupid joke about the situation in a meme format that most tumblr users could understand.

If you're wondering why I worded it like that, also valid. I worded it like that to quickly convey info. I also thought that people would understand that "killed off" doesn't mean the same as "shut down", but I can't blame them for that; a lot of people are in the tags mourning (and not just in the notes of this post).

Again, if I meant "shut down", I would have posted:

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 6- Undeniable

Summary: when your car breaks down, you’re forced to ask Frankie for help. You’re not sure what you hate more- that you have to ask him for help, or that there’s a part of you that maybe can tolerate him

Word count: 6.2k

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: Angst, tension (in a good way??!!), yearning (AHHH), teenage Frankie (and current day Frankie, for that matter) are down so bad, Santi and Benny play Dr. Phil

A/N: okay I said there would be smut this chapter, but I am a liar, and I am sorry 🤥 I flip flopped some scenes around and it ended up making more sense for some ✨things✨ to happen next chapter instead 🤷🏼‍♀️ I seriously love these two more and more every chapter, and this may have been my favorite one to write so far!! Thank you SO much for all the kind things you’ve had to say about this story- it really means more to me than you know 🥺💛 (sorry for any errors, I didn't have time to edit this chapter as well as I should have!)

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Frankie, Age 18, Summer of 2007

“Jesus Christ, Morales, you got bricks for feet, or what?”

The Garcia’s newly installed basketball hoop had been a welcome addition to the neighborhood rotation of afterschool hangouts. Santi knows just as well as Frankie and Benny that it’s really nothing but a ploy to keep the boys occupied and out their parent’s hair, but the three have gladly accepted the olive branch Santi’s parents have extended to them, regardless of motive.

Now that the heat of late May has begun to sear off the pavement of Everett Street and the dwindling motivation of senior year is in full force, basketball has quickly taken over as the new after school activity.

Benny and Santi love it because it gives them a chance to get out the competitive angst they’ve had locked away since football season has come to a close.

Frankie loves it because it gives him something to keep him occupied until you come home from soccer practice.

Even then, he still finds himself anxiously counting down the minutes until your car pulls into the driveway, stepping out of the driver’s seat to give him that same goofy wave of approval that frees him from his friends’ constant bickering about where the three point line lays on the cement.

Ever since he told you he was leaving, there’s a part of him that debates forgoing basketball all together, just so he can make it to your house that much quicker when you get home. Now more than ever, he’s hyper aware of every second he has left with you, the internal countdown constantly nagging in the back of his mind before it’s four hundred miles that separate the two of you, not four houses.

Because now, not only does he have 74 days left to figure out how to say goodbye to his best friend, he has 74 days left to figure out how to tell her that he’s head over heels in love with her.

That’s what’s on Frankie’s mind as the pass Santi’s thrown at him rolls right past his shoes and down the driveway.

No shit, he’s got bricks for feet.

“Helloooooo? Earth to Frankie? You gonna get the fuckin’ ball, or what?” Santi shouts, wildly waving his arms, trying to snap his friend out of whatever weird daydream he’s stuck in.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Frankie stammers, half jogging for the bouncing ball, tossing it back to Benny, also barely paying attention enough to keep the rubber from smacking him upside the head.

“Fuck, dude, you tryin’ to kill me, or somethin’? A heads up would be nice next time!” Benny scoffs, trying to downplay the fact he’s nearly just shit his pants from the ball that came out of nowhere and almost took him out.

“S-sorry. My bad.” Frankie grimaces, sheepishly running his hand through his thick, messy curls before rubbing the back of his neck.

Santi and Benny exchange confused glances with each other before turning their attention back to their clearly pre-occupied friend.

“Hey, you good, man?” Santi asks, scrunching his brow at Frankie’s tortured scowl.

“Yeah dude, you’ve been like, super out of it the past couple of days. Everything okay?” Benny adds. He tries to discreetly nudge Santi, givinging him a look that’s meant to ask if there’s something he’s missing. The best Santi can give him back is an ambivalent shrug, just as lost as his friend as to why Frankie’s mentally residing on another planet.

“Yeah. I’m- I’m fine.”

Sure, Santi and Benny aren’t as emotionally mature as their friend, but they also aren’t stupid. It’s obvious there’s something he’s keeping from them, and they’re far too relentless to let it go until they find out.

“Dude… C’mon.” Santi prods, taking a step towards Frankie to poke him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, spill the fuckin’ beans, Frank. What the hell’s goin’ on?” Benny chimes in, following Santi’s lead with another forceful poke.

“It’s nothing! Jesus, will you drop it?”

Santi smirks at how agitated Frankie’s become, spending enough years with his friend to know there’s one thing, and one thing only that’s got him this worked up.

“Is this about Kenz?”

Frankie’s eyes dart rapidly between his friends, the sky and his feet, too afraid to settle in one place as he’s consumed by his own silence, crossing his arms over his chest as he braces himself to defend against the onslaught he’s about to be faced with.

He could lie, say no, keep arguing with Santi and Benny until he’s blue in the face, but he knows it’s no use. Deep down, he has a feeling they already know what he’s going to say. He also has a feeling he’ll never go a day for the rest of his life where they won’t give him ten pounds of shit for it, but Frankie’s desperate. If he doesn’t figure out what to do, there’s a good chance he just may explode.

“You have to swear you won’t say anything about this to anyone.” Frankie sternly sighs, eyeing down his friends with a deathly glare, “Swear you won’t.”

“We swear, man.”

“Yeah, we swear.”

Benny and Santi nod in agreement, too shocked at his agreement to tell them anything rather than asking them to fuck off and leave him alone. They wait in patient silence as Frankie takes a long, shaky deep breath in.

“I um- fuck. Fuck.” He stammers, terrified to hear himself admit what he’s had locked away in his brain for years out loud for the first time, “I’m uh- I think I’m in love with MacKezie. I think I’m in love with her and I don’t know what to do.”

Frankie’s mortified by the silence from his friends in the seconds that follow. He’s even more mortified by their howling laughter that comes after that.

“That’s it? Oh, thank God!” Santi cackles, him and Benny clutching their chests to try and keep themselves standing, “Dude, I thought you were gonna say something fucking crazy. You looked like you were gonna fucking throw up.”

“W-what? Santi, did you not just hear what I fucking said? I literally just told you-”

“That you’re in love with MacKenzie? News flash, Morales, we’ve known you’ve been in love with her since like, the eighth grade. Holy shit, I can’t believe you finally fucking admitted it!”

Frankie’s face grows hotter by the second, his cheeks ablaze with bright reds and pinks, not sure if he’s more embarrassed by what he’s admitted, or the fact that he’s worked himself up for weeks to finally tell his friends something they’ve already known for years and Frankie was too blind to realize it.

“Well, okay- I just- what am I- what am I gonna do?” Frankie stutters, throwing his hands up to the sky, very aware that the admittance of his love for you is only a small part to his greater problem.

“Whatta you mean, what are you gonna do?” Benny questions, he and Santi still giggling over how frantic and flustered Frankie still was.

“It’s not fuckin’ rocket science, Frank.” Santi smirks, giving him a playful nudge, “Just tell her that you love her.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Santi?! I can’t just tell her I love her, that’s- fuck, that’s crazy!” Frankie’s all but shouting at his friend for what feels like the most outrageous idea he’s ever heard, crazily pacing up and down the driveway, as if he’s asking his friends for advice on where to hide the body he’s just killed.

“And that would be crazy because….?” Santi teases, anxiously awaiting whatever ridiculous answer Frankie has to finish off the rest of his sentence.

“Because?!” Frankie asks, storming so fast up and down the driveway, he’s about to make fresh cracks in the concrete, “Because, b-because- fuck, Santi, what if I tell her that I love her and she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I ruin our friendship forever and then I get my fuckin’ heart broken and lose my best friend? Jesus Christ, that’s why.”

“You wanna tell him or should I?” Benny proposes, shrugging at Santi.

In a silent agreement, Santi gives Benny a nod, taking a step towards Frankie to grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stand still enough to capture his full attention.

“Frankie, lemme ask you this.” Santi pauses, bringing Frankie’s gaze from his feet up to his friend, thinking for once in his life, he may actually be willing to give him some serious advice.

“Yeah?”

“Are you blind, or are you stupid? ‘Cause I think you may be both.”

“What the fuck, dude?!” Frankie scoffs over Santi and Benny’s snickering, outstretching his arms to push Santi off of him.

“Damn, maybe he is.” Benny grimaces overdramatically, playing into Santi’s theatrics.

“Fuck off, Benny!” Frankie frowns, starting to regret asking his friends for help.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I really have to spell this out for you.” Santi sighs, squeezing his temples between his thumb and index finger.

“What!?” Frankie presses, nearly fed up with his antics.

“Shit, you’re right Benny, he may be dumber than we thought.” Santi snorts before quickly turning his attention back to Frankie, “Frankie… You do realize MacKenzie’s in love with you too, right?”

Frankie feels his heart stop. He’s partly convinced it’s flatlined indefinitely. The only thing that’s keeping him alive is even the tiniest chance that what Santi has to say is actually true.

That maybe, just maybe, you love him, too.

“Santi, c’mon. Be- be fucking serious. There’s no way.”

Frankie won’t let himself believe anything yet, no matter how badly he wants to. Knowing Santi, he wouldn’t be shocked if he’s trying to pull him in to some sick sort of joke, but the looks on his, and Benny’s faces is all the earth shattering reassurance Frankie needs to know that Santi’s telling the truth.

“He’s being serious, I swear.” Benny chimes in, trying to aid in convincing Frankie.

“Think about it, Frank. The two of you spend every fucking second together. You’re basically already dating without actually dating. And not even just because of the fact you like, pretty much go on dates to the movies or ice cream, or whatever. Didn’t you say she cried for like, an hour when you told her you were leaving?”

“I- I mean, y- yeah, I guess.”

“Or the fact that she’s never dated anyone else and has had you locked in as her prom date since last year.” Benny adds.

“Don't even get me started on the fact you two cuddle every time we watch a movie together, because God forbid you’re not touching each other for an hour and a half.”

“I- I- I- don’t know. I mean, sure, yeah, but just because she does that doesn’t mean she’s in love with me!”

Frankie can feel his insides churn, like someone’s put them in a blender and cranked it on high. He’s not sure what’s more terrifying- that you do all those things but you’re not in love with him, or that you do all of them because you are.

He quickly comes to determine the second is much scarier than the first. Mostly because there’s a part of him that believes maybe you’re just as in love with him as he is with you.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Frankie’s knees wobble as he sinks to the ground, bottom hitting the pavement with a thud.

“Well shit, don’t do it on the driveway, my mom’s gonna kill me. If you gotta yak, at least do it on the grass.”

Santi and Benny settle in on either side of Frankie, the trio of boys squatting at the edge of the driveway. Frankie buries his head in his hands, scrunching his face so hard into his sweaty palms that maybe, some sort of reasonable idea will pop into his brain if he squeezes hard enough.

“You guys really think she likes me? Like, actually?” Frankie asks, peeking his head up to look back and forth between Santi and Benny.

“Uh, yeah.” The pair agree in unison, each giving their friend a pat on the back, trying to keep their all-knowing laughter at bay to soothe Frankie through his distress.

“Fuck. Holy shit. So- So what do I do? Just- Do I just tell her?”

“I mean, I’m no love guru, but you like, may wanna be a little more subtle than that.” Benny snickers, giving Frankie a little nudge, “I mean, do you wanna tell her?”

“Yeah. Fuck. Fuck, I wanna tell her so bad.” It spills out of Frankie’s mouth without any hesitation. The more he thinks about it, the more sure he is.

“Like, you’re already going with her to prom and stuff. You could do it then?” Santi suggests with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Damn, alright, Mr. Romance over here with the advice.”

“Shut up, Benny. You got any better advice? At least I’ve fuckin’ had a girlfriend before, you dingus, have you? Didn’t think so.”

Frankie’s completely blocked out their bickering, lost in his own train of thought, where all he can picture is you- Your smile, the little strand of hair that you tuck behind your ear when it falls in your face, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, the little curl in your lips you get when you smirk at him when he tells a stupid joke.

How badly he wishes his lips could meet yours to feel that smirk pressed against his face.

“Do… Do you- Do you think I should kiss her?”

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, what are we, twelve?” Yeah, man, fuckin’ kiss her.” Santi snorts, Benny joining in with muffled laughter in his throat at the innocence of his question, “God, with how nervous you sounded, I thought you were gonna ask if you should like, have sex with her, or somethin’.”

It’s then his brain truly short circuits, his heart about to fall out of his ass and lump in his throat the size of a softball.

He has enough balls to admit he’s thought plenty of times about kissing you.

But right now, he certainly doesn’t have enough balls to confess to his friends, (or even to himself, for that matter) he’s spent just as much time thinking about doing a lot more than just kissing you.

He’s spent even more time thinking about just how badly he wants to.

One step at a time, Morales.

You, Present

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…”

Turning over your ignition to the sound of empty rattles once wasn’t anything to worry about.

Turning it over twice to the sound of silence you could chalk up to bad luck.

But after six different attempts to start your car to no avail, you were fairly certain your issue wasn’t based solely on user error.

“Fuck…” You huff to yourself, yanking out your keys and slamming the driver’s side door behind you as you storm back into the house, now in a race against the clock to get your car not only started, but driveable enough to get you to work on time.

It’s the stupid things like this you haven’t mentally prepared yourself for when it comes to your father’s impending death- Not having a built in mechanic at your disposal to help solve your car issues when something goes awry. It seems selfish to take from the few precious moments you have left with him to pester your dad about your car troubles, but you know for a fact, your dying father has a better chance of diagnosing your issue from his bed than you do hands deep in the engine.

“Hey, Dad.” You grimace, gently rousing him from his half-awake state in front of the TV, “Dad, can I ask you something, or are you too busy dying?”

Your joke is enough to crack a sleepy smile in the corner of his lips, grunting as he turns his head over to see you hunched over the edge of his bed.

“Depends. Is it worth my time, or should I go back to decaying?” He fights with everything in him to let out the softest laugh, a sputtering cough following as his chest rises and falls, trying his best to not let his final days prevent him from being the helpful dad you’d always known.

“My car won’t start. Do you have any idea of what it could be?”

“You gonna wheel me out to the driveway to have me figure it out?”

You both know it’s ridiculous, what you’re asking him to do. You’re not sure what compelled you to think that he’d be able to help solve your problem, but your yearning for the normalcy that’s been absent in your life for so long seems to outweigh any logic.

“I think we could probably crank the bed high enough for you to look under the hood.” You shrug with a sad type of sarcasm, anxiously fiddling with your fingers to try and brainstorm a solution to your time-sensitive issue.

“You know there’s someone four houses down who is very capable of solving your problem who isn’t dying.”

For as hard as your dad fought for his half huffed laugher, he fights even harder for the smug smirk pinching the corner of his cheeks.

“Dad…” You let out a deep breath, trying to not let your eyes roll to the back of your skull from even pondering the idea of admitting to Frankie Morales that you need his help.

“Mackenzie Grace?” He questions back, pretending to be blissfully unaware of your reason for dramatic pause.

“Dad, you can’t be serious.”

“I am, actually. Dead serious. And right now, I’m at a point in my life where that statement can’t be any closer to the truth.”

Unfortunately, that’s an argument you can’t fight.

You sigh again, chewing at your lip to see if your brain can muster any other plausible solution before you admit defeat, but you know it’s no use. Your dad is kind enough to accept your silence as a white flag, sparing you the embarrassment of admitting he’s right. What he’s not kind enough to do, is to let you off without making sure he gets the last word.

“You can’t stay mad at him forever, honey.”

“I can, actually.”

Right now, your dad better thank his lucky stars he’s dying, because any other circumstance, and you would have already been halfway out the door before you put yourself through this conversation again.

“MacKenzie,” He pauses, the frail and wrinkled ends of his fingertips reaching out just enough to rest on the hand you have wrapped around the bar of his bed guard rails, “if I give you some dying words of wisdom, do you promise to listen, actually listen to what I have to say?”

You know he’s about to tell you something you have no intention of wanting to hear. You want so badly to lie, to say “yes”, just to appease him without really meaning it. But the guilty conscious eating you alive in the pit of your stomach won’t let you get off that easily.

“Yeah, I promise.”

It’s soft enough for only you and him, just quiet enough to keep the world out of your shared secret.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either. I’d be willing to bet he’s still holding one against you, too. There’s two sides to every story, MacKenzie Grace, and you can’t keep blaming him like you didn’t have a part in what happened, too. He’s already accepted he’s in the wrong for what he did. God bless the fact you ended up just as stubborn as your old man, but at some point, you have to get off your high horse and do the same.”

It’s unsettling, the feeling that washes over you- it makes every inch of your body twinge and wince in a strange sort of self-inflicted pain you can’t shake, the indescribable discomfort that makes you want to crawl out of your skin and evaporate into thin air. The tormented sensation stirring in your gut makes you want to scream and cry and run away, all at the same time.

Because it’s not the truth of your dad’s words alone that make you feel this way- you’ve come face to face with this truth more times than you’d like to count.

It’s the fact that for the first time, you’ve come face to face with the truth, and there’s a part of you that can accept it.

You stand there for another moment at the edge of his bed, eyes peeled to the ground, trying to find the words you’re too scared to admit. Maybe your silence is a loud enough confession.

“I’ll see you when I get back from work, okay?” You lean down and kiss his head, giving your dad’s hand a final, gentle squeeze before you’re halfway out the door, car keys in hand.

“I thought your car wasn’t working?”

Your dad has never been one for “I told you so’s” . The stifled smile and playful glisten in his tired eyes will do just fine.

“Bye, Dad.”

Your dad’s words echo in your brain as you begin your journey down the driveway, terrified by the tiniest amount of weight it’s lifted off your shoulders.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.”

Maybe he’s got a point. But that’s easy to say when you’re only dealing with the idea of Frankie you’ve built up in your head, not when you’re about to come face to face with him in real time.

There’s a part of you that debates just walking to work. Hell, the hour walk it would take you to get to work would probably be easier than the thirty second walk you’re about to take four houses down.

You’ll be lucky if you don’t gnaw off your entire thumbnail by the time you make it to the Morales’s doorstep, trying to clench your fists as tight as possible with every step you take towards their house to attempt to keep your nerves (and nails) intact.

You’re not sure you’ve ever walked this slow to his house. There was once a time that you couldn’t sprint there fast enough, legs leaping over cracks in the sidewalk to meet Frankie at his front door. Now, it feels like you might as well be crawling with the time you’re trying to waste before you ring his doorbell.

You practically tip toe up the steps to the porch, like it’s some sort of crime to be at his house and you’re terrified of being caught. Your finger hovers over the doorbell, outstretched and ready to press, too frozen in fear to move the extra inch it will take to press the rounded button.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse under your breath, furrowing your brow at your inability to face his front door. You ball your free hand up to a fist, slamming your knuckles against your forehead with a sigh so heavy, you’d probably give that wolf from The Three Little Pigs a run for his money, “‘C’mon, MacKenzie, just ring the damn doorbell.”

Your heart stops as the tip of your index finger finally pushes hard enough to force the high pitched chime, forcing yourself to keep your feet planted on the doormat below you instead of booking it half way across town.

“One sec!”

The bellow of his voice from behind the door is enough to jumpstart the stand still of your heartbeat, so much so that in an instant, it’s gone from flatlining to nearly beating out of your chest.

At this point, even if you wanted to run, you’re not sure your body would let you.

As the knob turns and draws back towards the house, Frankie’s broad body fills the doorframe. He looks almost as frozen as you, so stunned by your presence, his tongue darts between his lips as a placeholder for the words he lacks.

“H-hey?” He asks it so cautiously, eyebrows scrunching in confusion while he looks you up and down, too scared to say anything else until he figures out why you’ve shown up at his front door.

“My um- My car won’t- I have to go to work and I can’t get my car to start.”

You don’t dare phrase it as anything other than a statement of fact. You’ll die before the words “Frankie, will you help me?” escape from your lips.

“O-oh. Shit.” He cocks his head, the pinch of his face immediately easing along with the rest of his body, standing up a little straighter as he leans against the doorframe.

“Sorry, i-if you’re busy or whatever, don’t feel like you-”

“No- No, I mean, yeah, no, I don’t- shit-” He stutters, pausing as he shakes his head with a little laugh at the ground, trying to compose himself before he trips over his words again, “Yes, I um- Yeah, I can help.”

“O-okay. Thank- Thanks.” You try to fight the tug you feel in your lips creeping towards the corner of your cheeks that mirrors the grin Frankie’s trying so desperately to hide on his face.

The two of you stand there for a moment, feet wriggling in the tips of your shoes and fingers twiddling in your pockets, using every ounce of strength you have to ignore the heat flushing through your cheeks that makes you want to hate him just a little bit less.

It’s hard to suppress when Frankie’s trying to keep up his facade with the world’s worst poker face as he’s beaming ear to ear.

“Let me just uh- Lemme grab some stuff and I’ll meet you over there?” He asks, tiptoeing around what seems too good to be true.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, sounds good.”

You give each other a little nod before he disappears behind his door. You tilt your head to the sky, eyes closed as the deepest sigh of relief you can take escapes your body. It feels like the first gasp you take when you peak above the surface after holding your breath underwater, remembering what it feels like to finally breathe again.

It takes everything in you to pretend you don’t feel the strange pang in your chest as you watch Frankie walk to your house after you’ve made it back to your driveway, his gray shirt clinging to his biceps as he carries over his bucket of tools and brown curls spilling out from under the worn, Standard Oil hat he’s obviously still refused to throw away.

You lean against the hood of your car, arms crossed over your chest, trying your best to seem ambivalent about the whole ordeal.

If you were nominated for an Oscar in the “Pretending to be aloof in front of Frankie Morales while he fixes your car” category, you most surely wouldn’t be winning.

“Hey, again.” He grins as he sets his tools down, mirroring your stance to cross his arms over his chest.

“Hey, again.” You parrot.

“So, uh… Your car?” Frankie asks, nodding over to the vehicle you’re leaning on.

“Yeah, uh- yeah, I don’t know what’s going on. I tried starting it like, five different times and it doesn’t do anything. I’ve never had this happen to me before and of course it’s when I’m trying to leave for work.” You shrug, trying to play into the fact you at least tried to do something before coming to find him.

“Huh. Alright, well, lemme see what I can do, okay?” He nods again, leaving your fingers to play with your sleeves to keep yourself occupied, instead of staring at him, mesmerized by the way you can still hear the gears turning in his brain as he processes. “Can I uh- is it okay if I have the keys?”

You fumble through your pockets, digging out your keys to place them in the palm of Frankie’s outstretched hand, the linger of your touch on his skin just long enough to make you subtly jerk your arm back in embarrassment.

You step back to let Frankie slide past you, watching him try to squeeze himself into the driver’s seat to start your car, half his body still hanging out the open door.

“Are you- are you not teaching anymore?”

“Wh- huh?” His question catches you off guard, the scowl of confusion painted across your face making him quickly elaborate before drawing his attention back to your car.

“You just uh- sorry, you said you were going to work. It’s 5 P.M. on a Thursday in June, so, ya know, figured you probably weren’t going to school.”

He gives the key one more turn before sliding out of the car, carefully passing your keys back off to you before making his way to open the hood. You cautiously follow behind him, arms still crossed against your chest as he props the front of the car up to reveal the engine.

“Oh. Uh- no, yeah. No, I’m uh- I’m still teaching. Normally I do summer school to make some extra money, but because of my dad and everything and not being home, it just, ya know, I just couldn’t. I still wanted something to do to make money and keep me busy, so um, Katie’s Dad still owns The Parrot’s Nest on 14th, so I asked him if I could just do some part time waitressing and bartending and stuff. It’s nice ‘cause he’s been really flexible with everything going on.”

Your eyes dart to the ground as Frankie shifts his view from the inside of the car back to you. The air fills with a heavy pause, like neither of you are really sure how to react to the fact you’re managing a semi-civil conversation that’s more than just one word responses.

Frankie lets out a quiet huff, trying to hide the soft smile curling in the corner of his scruff covered cheeks before turning back to the car, silently tinkering for a few moments before mustering up the courage to speak again.

“That’s nice of him. Didn’t even know that place was still around.” There’s a little grunt as he leans deeper into the car, reaching around to search for some sort of part he wants to check, “I’m uh- I’m glad you’re still teaching, though. That’s um, that’s good.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Your hands have shifted from folded across your chest to in your pockets, a subconscious move you’ve made as a brick from the wall you’ve built between yourself and Frankie Morales seems to crumble without you realizing.

You let him work for a few more moments before he’s diagnosed your issue, carefully closing the hood and wiping the engine grime on the towel from the tool bucket he’s brought with him.

“So uh- good news is, you just need a new battery. Easy fix. Bad news is, your battery’s dead, and your car’s not gonna start without a new one.” Frankie shrugs, hoping he’s not pushing his luck with the little laugh he gives himself at his joke.

“Fuck. Okay, uh- shit, okay.” You mutter, not necessarily upset with Frankie for delivering the news of his discovery, but angry at the fact you need to buy a new car battery and have no way to get to work. “Um, sorry, give me a second, I’m gonna call Jim and let him know that I can’t make it in today.”

“I- I can drive you.”

You’re sure Frankie’s just as surprised as you when the offer comes out of his mouth, freezing your thumb over your boss’s contact you’re about to dial. Frankie clearly interprets the look on your face as one of skepticism about his idea, quickly trying to backpedal before he preemptively digs his own grave.

“No, I mean, um- if you want. I can- I can drop you off. So you, uh- that way you don’t have to miss work.”

“No, Frankie, it’s fine, you- you already helped figure out what’s wrong with my car, it’s not a big deal, don’t wo-”

“I want to.”

You don’t mean for your sigh to be as audible as it is. It only seems fair, considering there was no world in which you ever considered having to contemplate not only asking Frankie for help, but also spending a fifteen minute car ride together so he can drop you off at work. You chew at your bottom lip as you contemplate the lesser of two evils- be stuck in Frankie’s metal death trap of a car, forced within a 3 foot proximity of him for the entire ride, or miss out on the most hours you’ve been scheduled in the past two weeks for money you really do need.

Swallowing your pride is the toughest pill you’ve had to swallow in quite a long time.

“Fine.”

It’s not even your answer you think shocks him the most. It’s how little he had to argue with you to agree.

You want to roll your eyes at the little smirk of satisfaction he gives himself, knowing you’ve gone 0-2 on your hardened stance of despising Frankie’s guts since talking with your dad. It only stings more that you’re sure Frankie is getting endless amounts of satisfaction that you’ve given into him so quickly.

But fuck, if you didn’t miss that stupid, goofy grin of his when he knows he’s beaten you at your own game.

“Only if your car isn’t gonna kill us first before we get there.” You groan, eyeing down Frankie’s beater truck he’s been driving since he got his license. It was in questionable shape over a decade ago, you’re not sure what kind of deal Frankie made with the devil to keep the hunk of junk up and running.

“She’s fine. Haven’t managed to kill you in her yet, have I?” Frankie rebuttals, grabbing his tools as you follow behind him towards his car.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” You sigh, shaking your head in annoyance that Frankie’s still driving this damn thing on principle alone, “How the fuck is this thing even still running?”

“‘Cause you don’t give her enough credit. Got me here from North Carolina just fine.” Frankie scoffs, the two of you settling into your perspective seats inside his truck.

His comment makes you frown at your lap as you buckle your seatbelt, not because of the sass he’s inflicted, but because it reminds you that he’s moved himself states away just to further the distance between you two.

“S-sorry, it was meant to be a joke.” Frankie mutters, looking over at you as he drives and noticing the way you’ve gone quiet, eyes peeled to the ground.

“No, I know.” You reply back, anxiously digging under your nails with your stare still locked on your feet. “How’s um- how’s North Carolina?”

“Oh. Um, It’s uh- It’s fine, I guess.”

It’s then you notice Frankie’s realized the reason for your silence, uncomfortably fidgeting in his seat and grip tightening around the steering wheel as he processes your disappointment.

It’s hard to decipher what he means by “fine.” Fine, like he’s more than fine and doesn't want to rub it in your face how well he’s doing? Fine, like actually a normal amount of fine and he just has nothing of interest to report? Fine, like he’s not fine at all, but doesn’t have the balls to admit it to you?

With the way he can’t bring himself to look at you, it has to be the first or third option. You’re not sure which one is worse.

You’re also not sure why you feel so compelled to find out.

“You still uh- doing um, mechanic stuff for the Army?” You ask, glancing over just enough to watch Frankie’s fingers drum against the steering wheel.

“Yeah. Helicopter maintenance, mostly.”

It’s still not enough to give you the definitive answer you’re looking for. You’re too stubborn for your own good to just quit while you’re ahead. Because of all the questions you could have asked him, the one you ask him next is like voluntarily putting a gun to your head and asking him to shoot.

“Are you, uh- you um, seeing anyone? Samantha, or whatever her name was?”

It’s the first time he locks eyes with you since you’ve gotten in the car. Frankie looks you up and down, tongue running across the top of his teeth under his lips and raising his brows just enough to let you know you’ve got his attention.

Every second of silence that lingers before his answer only leads you to believe he’s trying to let you down slowly before he has to pull the trigger. You brace yourself for the bullet.

“No. I uh, shit- I- Sarah and I broke up a while ago. After um, after Santi’s wedding, actually. No, I um, I’m not seeing anyone. Haven’t really been since then, I guess.”

Your body stays tense, still bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, but it never comes. Not only has Frankie taken his finger off the trigger, he’s put away the gun all together. You’re so stunned you’ve made it out of the question alive, you aren’t quite sure how to react.

“O-oh. I uh- I didn’t know.”

“Are- are you? S-seeing anyone?” He stutters, the words heavy in his throat as he gulps.

“No. After how things ended with Liam, I just- I haven’t either.”

It’s uncomfortable, the silence that fills the car and seeps between you. Not quite awkward, not quite upset, not quite relieved, either. It’s heavy, like a backpack full of bricks you’ve had strapped to your shoulders that you refuse to put down- you’d rather keep burdening yourself with the weight than just take it off, too used to the ache it spreads to every inch of your body.

Maybe, the silence is so uncomfortable because you’re starting to realize how stupid it is to let these types of things keep weighing you down.

Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.

You’ve been so lost in your own head, you’d barely even realized the car had come to a stop, the soft orange and pink glow of The Parrot’s Nest sign illuminating the inside of Frankie’s truck with muted neon snapping you back to reality.

Your hand wraps around the door handle, ready to break free into the parking lot before Frankie’s voice stops you.

“What time are you done?”

You look back over your shoulder, taken aback.

“Why?”

“So I can pick you up.”

It’s so matter of fact, like he had never contemplated any other option from the moment he’d offer to drive you, his soft, brown eyes sinking as you shake your head at him.

“Frankie, it’s fine. I can have someone else drive me ho-”

“Please?”

Your head wants to say no. It wants to push open the door with a half hearted “thanks for the ride” and pretend like the past 15 minutes had simply never existed, wiping the strange pang in your chest and swirling in your stomach from its memory.

Apparently, your heart’s decided it has other plans.

“I’m done at ten.”

“Then I promise to be back here at ten.”

Frankie Morales is a man who’s broken many things.

Your heart, your trust, your friendship.

But out of all the things Frankie has broken, he’s never broken a promise.

And that’s how you know at ten o’clock sharp, you’ll find his beat up Chevy in the parking lot of The Parrot’s Nest, waiting for you.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

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@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[is-it-cute-gf-au-edition]

Hey, thanks for calling my blog "otherwise good content" when most of my stuff is focused on Ford Pines. Seems kinda like a backhanded compliment, but maybe you're just rude IRL. I'm an understanding person.

Anyway, who are you to decide what is and isn't cute? I, personally, think Ford Pines is ADORABLE! I mean, look at him!!! Someone sent me this picture of him with his head stuck in a trash can! TELL ME that isn't some America's Funniest Home Videos (pet category) shit.

Also, apparently, the other guy in the picture punched the person who took the photo? IDK who he is, but he looks like Ford, so maybe Cipher made a clone? Clone's less cute, though. Explain that with your fucking rating system

Hi,

Okay, I'm going to clear a few things up for my followers.

First of all: I really don't want to come off as passive aggressive. That's not what I'm about, and as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't help anyone to be anything but completely up front when you're on the internet.

I'm sorry if my comment seemed backhanded. I started following Jellyskink back when she mostly posted OC character designs, when I was in a hardcore comics and graphic design phase. I haven't kept up with the blog regularly since. I am truly sorry for misrepresenting you here. (I really, truly am a fan of your work.)

With that said, I am not going to be passive aggressive about this. I'm being explicit: THE FORD PINES REPOSTS ARE NOT OKAY. How do I even begin to explain that you're reposting videos of a grown human man being treated as a pet, and not even well?

I rate content based on whether the pets in them are actually displaying "cute" behavior (playful, friendly, well-trained, healthy) or if they're showing signs of distress and mistreatment. That's my rating system. The fact that people want me to "rate" an adult human man when it is, again, against interdimensional law to treat sophonts as pets/livestock and humans are a sophont species, is already kind of weird.

But, hey. I'm willing to play along. I'm a good sport. If they're pet videos, I'll check to make sure that the pet isn't showing signs of distress or abuse!

Except he definitely is.

Jellyskink, let's just give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you're just really bad at reading the room. I'm telling you now: Ford Pines is in obvious distress in practically all of these video clips. I don't think you care. I think you're a Cipher Loyalist and thinks the dorito can just treat Ford however he wants because he's a god. But if you're not, prove it: stop posting exploitative Ford Pines videos. They aren't even your flapping videos, you're reposting them. Go back to making cheesy OC Do Not Steal art. That contributed to the world.

Now, about the picture, since you asked:

RATING: NOT CUTE.

This is a guy who got assaulted with a trash can!! Even if this wasn't a human I'd be rating this not cute! It's horrible! And you know what else makes it not cute? You know how I always give things a bad rating when the handler or the person taking the video isn't being safe with it? Well, the guy taking the picture is 100% about to get assaulted. You know why?

THAT IS STANLEY PINES. Is he Ford's clone? I don't know - how do you count identical twins? Cipher didn't make him, they're brothers. You can literally look it up. How are you a so-called Ford Pines fan and you don't even know who Stanley Pines is? He's the sole proprietor of the anomaly distributor Pines Profundities. It's public record. He's in the New York business registry.

So, yeah. The guy taking the picture of a grown man stuck in a garbage can was being pretty stupid and is about to get punched by the man's brother, because that's what happens when you're a jerk to random strangers in New York.

[amphibiahawks321]

Lyney : Come on, this new illusion will leave everyone in awe! Trust me! The risk is worth it

Lynette : Worth it? Worth it for who? If something goes wrong, we'll ruin our reputation, think it through...

Freminet : I.... I'm not really sure I can get the mechanism to work perfectly under pressure...

Lynette : it's alright freminet, you're just being realistic cause it is a lot of work, something lyney should listen to...

Lyney : Wait now just for a second! I'm just saying that–

[Meanwhile, in the other room (Y/N and Arlecchino's bedroom) Y/N trying to fall asleep but can't due to the sound of the three's while arlecchino reading a book]

[Arlecchino starts rubbing her temples]

Arlecchino : Sighs... If they don't stop arguing in the next five seconds, I swear I'm sending those three on separate missions to the opposite ends of tevyat....

M!Reader : Weeeell... I wouldn't go THAT far–

Arlecchino : they've been going at it for an hour and a half....

M!Reader : ......Good point

M!Reader : You can't really blame them too much they're siblings, and that's just... How siblings are, y'know?

[Arlecchino shooting Y/N a sharp look but still with her soft tone]

Arlecchino : Sighs... I get what you're trying to say sweetheart, but you do remember last time when they almost kept us up all night debating which dessert was better right....

M!Reader : H-Hehe well, that was about cake, this seems... Slightly more serious

Arlecchino : Groans Oh of course, very serious, the fate of the world is hanging on what kind of performance they'll have to appeal to audiences, that means the rest of us have to endure their bickering...

[Y/N nudges Arlecchino playfully]

M!Reader : Come on, don't act like you don't care about them

[Arlecchino exhales sharply]

Arlecchino : I never said I didn't care, but caring doesn't mean I have to enjoy their endless squabbling

[Arlecchino glances at Y/N, her expression softening further]

Arlecchino : And right now, all I want is some peace and quiet... With you....

[Y/N smiles warmly as arlecchino brush her hand with his fingers]

M!Reader : I'd like that too, want me to go and cool them down? Maybe i can get them to quiet down–

[Arlecchino immediately grabbed his hand to stop him, her tone firm but affectionate]

Arlecchino : No, you'll just end up getting dragged into their bickering, and I'll be stuck here waiting for you... Let them tire themselves out, you're staying right here...

M!Reader : Chuckles... Leans closer... Bossy as ever, huh?~

[Arlecchino smirking, leaning her head lightly on his shoulder]

Arlecchino : You love it...

[Y/N wrapping an arm around her]

M!Reader : Yeah, I do~