#mutual ex-boyfriends tho

[multishipper-baby]

You know, I like the idea of my whole OT4 being together, I find the idea of Eak and Freddy dating with Owynn as their mutual crazy ex who occasionally comes back into their lives to cause drama pretty funny.

[catboyolli]

can I please stop having weird dreams? thanks

[j00stkl31n]

Having more fucked up realizations about my last relationship yay!!

[ghostfacd]

ALL BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY? | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. after you and tom called it quits, the internet can’t help but make you their punching bag, all because you liked a boy.

part 2 | installment of this au | recommend you read it for more context!

CELEBRITYNEWS Months after the pair announced they were dating on Instagram, couple Y/N Avocot and Tom Blyth have now since broken up due to personal reasons and “mutual agreement” according to a source. We will miss the sweet ex-couple, and we wish the best for Y/N and Tom!

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user1 guys im going to cry

user2 this wasn’t in my 2023 plans.

user3 actual tears

user4 ik rachel is heartbroken rn bc they’re both her close friends and she introduced them to one another 😭😭

➥ user5 you’re so right OMG

user6 they were so good together?? im upset

user7 he’s single now….. YES

ynuser me time 🌞 (new skincare video up soon yayy!!)

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user8 guys, it’s official. she unfollowed tom

➥ user9 it’s the way he still follows her and likes all her posts like this is too sad to watch ☹️

user10 girly after unfollowing tom and everything even tho he still follows and likes her post

user11 she doesn’t deserve him lol. not then, not now, not ever

sean.kauf ur time

conangray yess i love you yn

➥ ynuser @/conangray @/sean.kauf i love you two 💘

rachelzegler only girls party

➥ user12 oh?

hollywoodnews Oh? is this a new romance brewing? Actress and music artist, YN Avocot and her fellow actor and cast mate Sean Kaufman seen awfully comfortable in multiple restaurants not long after YN’s breakup with her ex-boyfriend, actor Tom Blyth

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user13 cant defend yn anymore

➥ user14 she never asked u to defend her stop being delulu..

user15 welp called it, she’s a hoe

user16 doesn’t sean have a gf? not her homewrecking…

user17 acting like all that after she’s single please someone humble her immediately

user18 guys stop sending hate to yn, it’s literally not gonna help anyone. she’s single, she has the freedom to do whatever she wants without you guys being down her back 24/7.

liked by @/tomblyth

➥ user19 hello tom blyth literally liked ur comment??

user20 not tom still being nice to her even after all this. Personally me? Id never take that level of disrespect

ynuser “all because i liked a boy” OUT NOW! This song was originally something else that I put off for a really long time until now, it’s all from my experiences so it makes it very personal for me. I hope you guys like it as much as I do! As always, be kind to yourself and one another ❤️

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sean.kauf love this, love YOU!

➥ ynuser ❤️❤️

conangray this is a masterpiece

user21 THE REFERENCES TO THE HATE COMMENTS OMG ☹️☹️ this song is so good she doesn’t deserve all the hate she gets

user22 and all of this for what? WHEN EVERYTHIN’ WENT DOWN WE’D ALREADY BROKEN UP

➥ user23 TELL ME WHO I AM GUESS I DONT HAVE A CHOICE

➥ user24 ALL BECAUSE I LIKED A BOYYYYY

user25 the way tom hasn’t said anything..

[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 1: "The one with the proposal" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: The journey from Dallas to Austin is tense but tolerable, as you and Frankie do your best to ignore the mutual disdain simmering between you. But everything derails when a chance encounter with Harry—your ex—and his fiancée pushes you to tell a spur-of-the-moment lie. Frankie’s reaction makes it clear he’s not on board. WC: 14.3k

A/N: Okay, here's my new baby! And I fucking love it! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I've been enjoying writing it. Also, just a heads-up: I’ve taken some creative liberties with the characters. While this story is inspired by the ones in Triple Frontier, it barely follows the events of the movie, and the characters themselves aren’t portrayed exactly as they are in the film. PS: I’d love to hear your thoughts—your feedback means so much to me! Knowing what you think truly motivates me to keep going. So don't hesitate and let me know <3 Also, if you want to be on the tag list, let me know. And don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notifs :)

When Santiago’s message arrived, you read it three times, as if repetition might change the words or soften their impact.

[Santi]: Hey bubs, mornin. I’m really sorry but I won’t be able to come get you. I’ll meet you at home later tho. Frankie will pick you up, same time as planned, don’t worry:)

The words seemed to pulse faintly on the screen, a quiet disruption of the neat plan you’d constructed in your head.

Frankie. He wasn’t your first choice—or your second, or third. If you were honest, he didn’t even make the list.

That morning had started with a sense of calm, a kind of orderly anticipation. The steady hum of the fan in the corner of Emma’s room, the cool sting of the shower water, the first sip of coffee, sweet and bitter all at once—it all felt like the clean slate of a well-prepared day. You’d zipped your suitcase shut with a satisfying finality, placed your carry-on by the door. Nothing left to chance.

The plan was simple: you’d take the bus. Predictable, unremarkable. But Santiago had insisted earlier that week, his voice crackling through the phone with a kind of rare, unguarded enthusiasm.

“We can stop for lunch, you know? Like we used to do with dad. Maybe even take a detour if we find somethin' cool,” he’d said, his tone warm, almost playful.

You’d been leaning against Emma’s kitchen counter at the time, a glass of wine in one hand, a cube of cheese in the other, and your phone between your cheek and your shoulder. Emma raised an eyebrow from across the room, silently prompting you to explain.

“Everything okay with Yovanna?” you teased, your voice carrying just enough edge to feel like a joke, even though it wasn’t entirely one. “Or is this an excuse to run away for the day?”

“Fuck you,” he laughed, the kind of laugh that came easily between you two. “I just want to spend time with you. It’s been ages since we really caught up. I miss you like hell.”

That stopped you. He wasn’t wrong—months had passed since the two of you had talked properly, beyond the surface-level exchanges over meals or texts.

“Okay,” you’d said, your voice softer than before, though you avoided looking at Emma. “I miss you too. I’ll wait for you then.”

And now, this. No Santiago, no shared lunch or detours. Just Frankie, an unwelcome rewrite of the day you thought you had mapped out so clearly.

You sat back against the bed frame, rereading the message one last time. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie will pick you up. Frankie. Frankie. Fucking Frankie. Now the plan had unraveled, and the disappointment felt sharper than you wanted to admit.

You let the phone fall to the bed beside you, the screen dimming as it landed.

Emma lay stretched out next to you, her head tilted toward the TV, where an episode of Friends played on low volume. It was one of those episodes you both knew by heart, the kind you could recite without effort. The one where everybody finds out. The blue light from the screen washed over her face, softening her features, making her eyes look brighter than they really were. Without looking away, she reached out and hooked her arm around yours, a quiet gesture that felt like home. She’d done the same thing when you were teenagers, sharing the lumpy couch in your parents’ living room, giggling over something trivial while your mom cooked dinner in the next room.

“What happened?” she murmured, her voice soft but curious, as if she could already sense the shift in your mood. The laugh track bubbled in the background, filling the space between her words.

“Santi’s not coming,” you said, glancing at the TV without really seeing it. “He sent Frankie.”

You felt a pang, not just from the change in plans but from the weight of the goodbye looming in the background. You’d learned to carry that feeling since Emma moved out of Austin—this persistent ache, like a thread pulling tighter with every visit that ended. On most days, it faded into the background. But today, it stuck to you, clinging like a damp sock you couldn’t quite shake off.

“That Frankie?” 

“I doubt he knows any others.”

“How convenient,” she said, her voice low with mockery, though her arm squeezed yours gently. “Well, call me when you get there. And try to be nice to him, if you can manage it.”

Emma turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at you out of the corner of her eye. “And don’t take too long to come back and visit me, okay?” 

“You could always visit Austin, you know."

“It’s more fun if you come here. You get to be a tourist,” she said, with that breezy logic she always used to disarm you. “I already know Austin. That’s not so exciting.”

You snorted, more out of habit than disagreement. She wasn’t wrong. Emma rarely was.

The rest of the evening passed in near silence, broken only by the low murmur of the television. First, another episode of Friends, then one of The Nanny. The rhythm of the shows was familiar, the kind of easy, forgettable comfort that didn’t require much from you. At some point, Emma shifted closer, resting her head on your shoulder. Her breathing slowed, deepened, a steady rise and fall that seemed to sync with your own. She didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. There was something about her presence, her weight against you, that felt like a reminder—you were understood here, even when you didn’t have the words to explain yourself. She wasn't just your best friend, she was your sister.

The sharp blare of a car horn shattered the calm, breaking through the evening like the crack of distant thunder. You flinched, your body instinctively tensing, the warm cocoon of the moment dissolving in an instant. Emma didn’t stir much, her eyes still closed, her arm still draped over yours. You nudged her gently, tapping her arm until she groaned softly and sat up, squinting against the glow of the TV.

“I think he’s here,” you said, your voice low but cutting through the quiet.

Emma stretched in one graceful motion, her arms arching overhead before she bent down to grab the bright lavender Crocs she kept by the bed. The shoes, adorned with an assortment of decorative pins—a blue flower, a miniature coffee cup, and a small plastic dinosaur—were an oddly perfect reflection of her: delicate, energetic, and just the right amount of ridiculous, in the best way. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” she said, her tone casual, but there was a softness to it, an unspoken understanding that made the impending goodbye feel heavier.

Outside, the heat clung to you immediately, the air thick and sticky, humming with the faint buzz of cicadas. Your gaze landed on the car parked in front of Emma’s house, and something in you tensed. It wasn’t Santi’s car, of course, and it wasn’t Santi standing there waiting.

Frankie was leaning against the hood, arms crossed, his whole posture radiating impatience. He looked as though he’d been sculpted there, his bored expression so exaggerated it almost felt theatrical. The heat shimmered in waves around him, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care. He wore a rumpled gray shirt that looked like it hadn’t been ironed in weeks and a pair of dark sunglasses, their reflective lenses hiding whatever was going on behind them. The cap was familiar, too—plain, worn, the same style you’d seen him wear before, though this time in a faded gray that matched his shirt.

For a fleeting, irrational moment, you thought maybe this was all a mistake. That Santi might suddenly appear, stepping out from behind the car or walking up the driveway with that easy laugh of his, telling you it had all been a joke. But the driveway remained empty, and Frankie, noticing you, straightened up with a kind of deliberate slowness.

He started walking toward you, each step measured, as if he were pacing himself for an obligation he didn’t particularly want to fulfill. His movements had the casual indifference of someone who would rather be anywhere else, but was too resigned to argue.

“Where’s Santi?” you asked as you approached, the question coming out sharper than you’d intended.

Frankie didn’t answer immediately. He simply closed the distance between you with deliberate, unhurried steps. Then, without a word, he grabbed the suitcase from your hand in one fluid motion. The gesture caught you off guard—not because he took it, but because of how mechanical it felt. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you in any meaningful way. It was as though you were just an extension of the bag he was moving, an obstacle to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

“He couldn’t make it,” he said at last, his voice flat, almost dismissive.

He hauled the suitcase toward the trunk and tossed it in with a thud that seemed louder than it should’ve been. The sound echoed briefly, underscoring his lack of finesse. He slammed the trunk shut with a single decisive motion and turned back toward the driver’s seat, his body language broadcasting that he considered the interaction over.

“He didn’t tell me anything about it,” you said, your voice rising slightly, tinged with disbelief. You stayed rooted to the spot, your feet planted as if the weight of the confusion had sunk into the concrete beneath you.

Frankie paused, his hand on the car door.

“It was a last-minute thing.” 

Before you could respond—before you could even begin to untangle your frustration into something coherent—he opened the door, slid into the driver’s seat, and pulled it shut behind him with a force that made the air shudder.

You turned back toward the house. Emma was watching from the porch, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her expression hovered somewhere between curiosity and bewilderment, her head tilting slightly as you approached.

She hugged you tightly, holding on a beat longer than usual. When you pulled away, her eyes searched yours, silently asking questions you didn’t have answers for.

“I’ll call you when I get there,” you said, though you weren’t sure what the call would entail—whether you’d laugh about all this, or vent, or just let her voice fill the empty spaces.

Her lips twitched into a faint smile, one tinged with resignation.

“I love you so much,” you added, your voice quieter now. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I always do. I love you too. Take care and call me as soon as you can."

She stepped back as you turned toward the car, your feet dragging slightly with each step.

Now, an hour and a half later, the car sped steadily toward Austin, the scenery blurring into a series of indistinct shapes. Frankie hadn’t said a word since you’d left Emma’s house, and the silence had settled in the car like a heavy fog, pressing down on you with every passing mile.

You’d considered speaking—several times, in fact—but every potential conversation starter you thought of seemed pointless. What was there to say to him? You barely knew each other, and what little you did know felt more like a series of grudges than shared history. The only things you had in common were your mutual love for Santi and, apparently, your mutual irritation with each other. Neither felt like enough to bridge the yawning gap between you.

You stared out the window, the dry, flat landscape sliding by in endless monotony, like a movie stripped of plot and color. Pale beige fields stretched into the horizon, broken only by the occasional cluster of power lines. The sameness of it all seemed to lull the world into a kind of dull, static hum.  

The only relief came from the music spilling softly from the car’s speakers—classic rock, its grainy tones unmistakable even at low volume. The sound was tethered to Frankie’s phone, resting in the cupholder beside him, the screen glowing faintly every so often with an incoming notification he didn’t bother to check. A Fleetwood Mac song began again, its familiar opening chords filling the silence for the third time since you’d left.  

You shifted in your seat, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before turning your attention back to the road ahead.

“Do you like this song?” 

“I think so.”

“It’s played three times already.”

“It’s a good song,” he said softly, his voice low enough to be mistaken for an afterthought. 

You turned back to the window, letting the conversation dissolve into the space between you. He hadn’t said it to be defensive—just matter-of-fact, like the song itself was reason enough. You folded your arms across your chest, the seatbelt digging slightly into your side.  

Then, your mind wandered back to Santi, to the message that had upended your day. What had he been thinking? Of all his friends, why send Frankie? The question rolled over in your head, each repetition more insistent than the last. Was it an oversight? A logistical decision made in haste, without considering how you’d feel about it? Or was it intentional? That idea sat uneasily with you, gnawing at the edge of your thoughts. He knew how strange things felt between you and Frankie. Hell, everyone knew. They’d all been there, witnessed it firsthand—the arguments, the uncomfortable silences, the way your personalities seemed to clash as naturally as oil and water.  

The possibility that Santi might’ve chosen Frankie on purpose—maybe even as some misguided attempt to force you into tolerating each other—bothered you more than you wanted to admit. You shifted again, suddenly restless, as the car hummed along the empty stretch of highway, the silence between you growing heavier despite the steady background of Fleetwood Mac.

Over the last few years, Frankie had been a fixture in your life, the way someone else’s shadow might be—not yours, but unavoidable. Being your brother’s best friend meant your paths crossed often enough, though you both seemed to approach these encounters with mutual disdain. You didn’t like him, and he didn’t bother pretending to like you. Disgust was the word that came to mind when you thought about how he looked at you. Not exaggerated or theatrical, just a cool, unflinching disgust, as though he found something about you fundamentally wrong. 

The last time you’d spoken more than a handful of clipped, perfunctory words to each other was in Santi’s kitchen a few years ago. That was the breaking point. The fight. It wasn’t dramatic, not really—no yelling, no slammed doors—but it was the kind of exchange that changed things irreversibly. After that, you decided you didn’t want to think about him, let alone look at him, ever again.

And that was the end of it. You stopped trying to explain. You'd come to accept that to Santi, Frankie was probably nothing like how you saw him. You weren't sure what it was about him that rubbed you the wrong way, but you knew that with your brother, Frankie surely couldn't be as unpleasant as he was with you. 

So, you ignored him. Every time you saw him, you made sure your gaze passed over him like he was just another fixture in the room. And he did the same. It was as though you were two people occupying the same space, but never truly sharing it.

Why on earth, then, had he agreed to come and pick you up?

The silence in the car stretched on, and you settled into the uncomfortable rhythm of it, letting it fill the space between you and him. Frankie’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, and his thumbs twitched restlessly over the steering wheel.

Finally, he broke the silence, but his words felt like a formality.

“We'll stop for lunch,” he said, his voice low, almost indifferent. His gaze flickered to you for a brief second, enough to make sure you had heard, before returning to the road. “I haven’t eaten anything all day. Do you mind?”

You were starting to feel the pangs of hunger yourself, but you didn’t let that soften your response. You couldn’t. 

“No,” you replied, your voice curt, colder than you intended.

Frankie nodded, the movement barely noticeable. He turned his attention back to the road, his expression unchanged, as though you hadn’t spoken at all. His calmness was maddening. 

For a moment, you considered breaking the silence again, saying something just to disrupt his steady composure. But then you thought better of it. There was still a long way to go, and the last thing you wanted was for this trip to feel even more suffocating than it already was. So you stayed silent, the weight of your irritation pressing down on you, knowing that with each mile, you were only getting closer to end of this torture.

Fifteen minutes later, the engine turned off  and you looked over at the driver's side, half-expecting Frankie to say something—anything—but he was already in motion. Before you could open your mouth, the door swung open, and he was out of the car, his body moving with an urgency that seemed to come from some invisible force, as though he were escaping the confines of the vehicle. For a moment, the empty passenger seat seemed to expand, making the car feel smaller, quieter. 

You stayed there a second longer, watching as Frankie made his way across the parking lot. His steps were steady, deliberate, almost too casual, as if walking away from you might somehow erase you from the moment entirely. He didn’t look back, didn’t pause to see if you were following. And honestly, you weren’t in any rush to do so. There was no reason to catch up with him. He clearly didn’t want you there, and you didn’t want to be near him either. This trip wasn’t about you; it was about doing your brother a favor.

The parking lot was modest, just enough space for the few cars scattered about. It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a typical lot for a small, unassuming restaurant. The faded lines barely marked the spots, and you counted five cars parked across the patch of asphalt. The windows of the restaurant were perfectly clean, and you could see people inside. A couple of families were chatting animatedly at their tables, and a few solitary diners were hunched over their food, their focus far from the simple meal in front of them.

With a sigh, you walked toward the entrance. Above the door, the sign Jimmy’s buzzed softly in red neon, its glow a little too bright for the evening light. Next to it, a yellow arrow with tiny, flickering bulbs pointed inside, inviting anyone who passed by to come in. "Eat here!" The sign seemed eager, almost enthusiastic in its attempt to catch attention.

You pushed open the door, the bell chiming brightly above your head as you stepped inside. The rush of cool air from the air conditioning met you instantly, a welcome contrast to the heat that still clung to your skin from the car. The coolness was almost too sharp, sending a slight shiver down your spine as you paused just inside the doorway. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the softer light inside. The diner was small, but it had a cozy, familiar feel, with colorful walls and a few tables scattered around. The noise inside was a comfortable hum, punctuated by the occasional clink of silverware, low conversation and the music in the background.

It didn’t take long to spot him. Frankie was seated at the bar, absorbed in the menu in front of him. His posture was casual, but there was something about the way he held himself, his shoulders slightly hunched, that made it feel like he was a little too withdrawn, like he didn’t want to engage. 

You walked toward him slowly, the sound of your footsteps softened by the tiles beneath you. You were just about to sit next to him when he looked up, his gaze meeting yours briefly before returning to the menu. His voice was flat, almost bored as he spoke, as if the interaction was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

“Go find a table,” he said, his tone neither rude nor warm.

You frowned, taking the menu from his hand without a word. His gaze didn’t follow you as he stood up, stretching slightly as he rose from the bar stool. There was something about his movements—relaxed, yet sharp—that made you feel like you weren’t really a part of whatever was going on. His shirt clung slightly to his back from the heat of the car, the evidence of sweat still visible on his skin, and you couldn't help but notice the fine hairs on his arms standing on end, a subtle sign of the sharp contrast between the stifling heat outside and the chill of the air-conditioned room.

“I’m goin' to the bathroom. Be back in a sec,” he added casually, his voice even, before disappearing down the narrow hallway to the right. No expectation of a response. No glance to see if you were still standing there, just a simple statement. He was gone before you could offer anything in reply.

You were left standing there, the laminated menu in your hands, a slight weariness creeping in.

With a sigh, you turned on your heels and began scanning the room for a table. There was still at least an hour and a half of travel left, plus however long you'd spend eating. Why hadn’t Santi given you a heads-up? You could’ve taken the bus or the train, something that didn’t involve sitting in a car with anyone but him. But no, that wasn’t even an option, apparently. 

You spotted an empty table near the back, next to the window, and as you walked toward it, the decor around you caught your eye. The place had a playful, nostalgic vibe, as if it were trying to channel the spirit of another time. Framed posters of Grease, Fame, Footloose, and Saturday Night Fever hung on the walls, adding to the feeling of a throwback to the ‘70s and ‘80s. It was all very upbeat, almost theatrical, like a movie set. The tables were red and white, and a jukebox stood in the corner.

You glanced at the posters, half wondering if the owner had lived through that era or just loved the aesthetic of it all. Either way, it gave the place a sense of warmth and a bit of character, a stark contrast to the outside. 

Suddenly, a voice cut through the quiet murmur of the restaurant, sharp and unexpected, and your name echoed in the air. You froze, the sound ricocheting in your chest, followed by a rush of emotions you didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone feel. You could feel the familiar tension ripple through your muscles, a mix of surprise, confusion, and something deeper you couldn’t quite place. Slowly, you turned to face him, every step feeling like it took an eternity.

“Harry,” you said, the name falling from your lips like it belonged to someone else, someone distant. A smile flickered across your face—perfectly timed and just the right shape, though it felt hollow, as fake as the kindness you were trying to project. Your lips tightened, a familiar mask of politeness slipping over your expression, one you wished you didn’t have to wear. “What... what are you doing here?”

His smile was instant and disarming, his surprise clear, and his happiness so genuine it made your chest tighten. For a moment, it erased the absurdity of seeing him here, of all places, in the middle of nowhere. The coincidence felt cruel, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you.

The last time you saw him, three months ago, it felt like a lifetime ago—a goodbye steeped in heartbreak. You’d clung to him, tears soaking his crisp white shirt as he whispered reassurances: “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. I care about you.” But the words he didn’t say cut deeper: he cared for you, but he loved her.  

It had been a casual fling, no strings attached—or so you told yourself. Then came the day he confessed: he was in love with Lisa, a friend you’d never met. They were getting married. His words, calm and rehearsed, felt like a gut punch, but his excitement betrayed him. He was happy. You weren’t.  

You tried to be strong, to tell him you were fine, even as you broke down. Because you loved him, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him with her.  

And now, here he was, smiling like nothing had happened, curiosity in his eyes—oblivious to the wreckage he’d left behind.  

In front of him, Lisa was sitting with a big bright smile. You’d seen her face before, her perfectly curated Instagram photos, her flawless smile that could have been lifted straight from a movie. But in person? She was even more striking, the kind of beauty that didn’t need filters or captions. The kind of beauty that made everything around her seem insignificant, that made you feel small just standing next to her. Her presence was magnetic, the sort of thing that pulled your gaze despite every instinct telling you to look away.

Suddenly, the air conditioning hit you like a blast of cold, sharp enough to make you flinch. But then again, maybe it wasn’t the air conditioning. Maybe it was just your body freezing in place, rigid with surprise and something much harder to define. You didn’t know how to respond. Harry was talking—his voice was there, filling the space, but the words barely reached you. They felt like distant echoes, the kind that might have meant something once but now were just noise, reverberating uselessly around you.

“What are you doing around here?” he asked, pulling you back from the tangle of thoughts you were trying so hard to keep at bay.

You blinked, trying to center yourself, but it was like you had forgotten how to breathe properly.

“We’re... I’m just passing through, heading back to Austin,” you said, your voice sounding too steady, too rehearsed, even to your own ears. Your heart was lodged somewhere near your throat, threatening to choke you if you said too much. “I went to visit Emma.”

“Ah, Emma. How is she? Is she still in Dallas?”

“Yep,” you answered, the word sharp and clipped, offering nothing more. 

The silence hung between you, thick and uncomfortable. You could feel it stretching, wrapping itself around your words, making them heavier than they needed to be. Finally, you exhaled, the air coming out in a slow, resigned sigh.

“What about you guys? What are you doing around here?”

You didn’t really want to know, not at all.

“Lisa’s grandparents live in Waco,” Harry said with that wide smile of his, the one that always made you feel like you were watching the world tilt on its axis. He looked at Lisa like she was the center of his universe, as if everything that mattered began and ended with her. “We went to take the invitation to them personally and I met the rest of the family while we were at it.”

You didn’t smile. You couldn’t. Your lips pulled tight, the gesture feeling almost painful, like your face wasn’t sure how to form the expression anymore. The words were there, though, just beneath the surface.

“Right, right.” You swallowed, forcing the words out despite how hollow they felt. “How cool. You must be so excited—a summer wedding, then?”

You’d known for weeks—September 6th. The invitation, with its sparkling gold lettering, had made your stomach churn. You buried it under junk mail, unable to face seeing him so happy, so certain of what he had.

But you couldn’t say that, could you? You couldn’t tell him that the mere thought of them together, of their future, felt like a knife to your chest. So you forced a smile, a tight, lifeless thing, and let the conversation carry on.

"That's right," Harry said, laughing as his gaze flickered to Lisa, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Even though we wanted to enjoy the early days of fall, Lisa wanted to get married around summer, mostly because of her parents. They got married during summer too."

Lisa laughed softly, the sound like a note held too long, then spoke, her voice low and warm.

"It's not just that," she said, her hand resting lightly on Harry's. You found yourself looking away, unable to hold the image of them together for too long. "Everything looks more beautiful during this season, doesn't it? Even the days last longer."

Her voice was thick with something you couldn't quite place—familiarity, maybe. Or maybe it was love, that unspoken thing that you couldn’t ignore, even if you wanted to. The way they fit together made everything else seem smaller, less important. And yet Harry’s eyes shifted to you, seeking something. Approval, maybe. He didn’t say it, but it was clear. His look said: Don’t disagree.

"That's true. Summer is beautiful," you replied, feeling the words slip out too easily, forced through your teeth. Your voice came out softer than you intended, and you felt Lisa’s smile hit you like a jolt. It was stunning—perfect in a way that seemed almost too much, like she’d been born to smile in that exact way. You hated her for it, just a little.

"We look forward to seeing you there," Harry said, breaking the moment, his words direct and heavy. "We haven't received your confirmation—you’re going, aren't you?"

How could he ask that, not see how unnatural this felt? But Harry wasn’t cruel—just unaware. You’d never told him you loved him, never made your feelings clear. To him, this was normal. He thought you’d be fine.

“I... um—” 

“Don’t worry about going alone,” he said, that same nonchalant tone that had once made you smile. "You always meet people at weddings."

Heat flooded your face, burning like a slap. The words stung, but his obliviousness made it worse. You wished the ground would swallow you whole—or anything to escape. Instead, you laughed—a thin, brittle sound that barely masked the pain.

"Ah, no, that’s not it," you lied, your voice trembling just enough for Harry to notice. "That's covered."

“Oh, is it?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, his interest piqued. He leaned forward, a relieved smile crossing his face.

"Sure," you said, forcing a confidence into your tone that you didn’t feel. "I’ll... I’ll go with my boyfriend."

Harry's eyes widened a little, and then the smile appeared again—this one more genuine, more curious. He tapped the table, an excited gesture that made your stomach twist.

“You don’t say?” he said, his voice rising in pitch. “And who’s the lucky guy?”

You wanted to crumble. You wanted to say nothing, because the truth felt too big, too overwhelming, and there was no way to say it without everything falling apart. But you couldn't. You just couldn't.

As if by some celestial miracle, you saw Frankie emerge from the hallway, his attention absorbed by the screen of his phone, scrolling, unaware of anything around him. His timing was perfect, and relief washed over you, as if fate had sent him. He wasn’t supposed to be here, yet there he was—a lifeline in the chaos.  

For a moment, he seemed to glow, his familiar, worn cap catching the harsh lights like a crown. You’d never been so glad to see someone. Then his eyes met yours, and his expression shifted—confusion flickering as he took in your frantic stance, the mess of emotions written on your face.  

Before you could stop it, before you could make any sense of what was happening, a smile stretched across your face—too wide, too fast, like a reflex you hadn’t been prepared for. It was probably a little too sharp to be anything but forced, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help anything.

"Frankie," you said, the words tumbling out with more enthusiasm than you intended. It sounded too bright, almost exaggerated, but there was no stopping it now. "This is Frankie... Frankie, my boyfriend.”

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but it didn’t matter—you needed to make something clear. Frankie tensed beside you, glancing your way, trying to read the situation. His eyes met yours, and you silently begged him: Help. Please.

For a moment, he studied you, his gaze flicking between you and the couple. Then, as if something clicked, his expression shifted to understanding. He realized what he had to do and adjusted instantly.

"Right," he finally said, his voice low, the smile on his face still a little unsure but polite. "I’m Frankie."

Harry extended his hand with a practiced smile, warm but a touch too bright. Frankie hesitated, his gaze shifting from Harry’s hand to your face, brow slightly furrowed as he tried to assess the situation—or his role in it.  

You stepped closer, tapping his waist lightly, a subtle signal to act. He blinked, refocusing, and finally took Harry’s hand, his grip firm and deliberate. But in his eyes, there was a flicker of discomfort—one only you noticed.

“Frankie,” Harry said, his voice carrying a weight of something too calm for the situation. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I'm Harry.” Then, he nodded enthusiastically, dropping his hand back to the table. “And this is Lisa."

Lisa smiled, her gaze bright and almost blinding.

“Nice to meet ya, Frankie,” she said, her voice the epitome of warmth, her charm effortless, her presence just... perfect. Oh my God, just stop it!

Frankie finally turned his attention back to you, though it wasn’t immediately clear if he was still processing the social niceties or deciding how best to carry this conversation forward. His voice shifted slightly as he spoke again.

“Same here,” he said, his tone unfamiliar to you—something smoother, almost softer, like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. 

He moved closer, just a bit too close, slipping his arm around your waist with ease, sending a flutter through your stomach. His hand rested lightly against your side, his palm warm at your back. You froze, unable to focus on anything but the pulse of his touch, the way he effortlessly played the boyfriend role.

It felt wrong, uncomfortable.

Confusion and relief mixed inside you, unsure if the relief came from the act itself or the distraction it provided from the situation.

"Well," Frankie broke the silence. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need to leave soon. I want to make sure this beautiful woman gets some food before we go—otherwise, she goes bad."

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the way he phrased it. 

Harry chuckled, his easy laughter filling the space.

“Yeah, I believe you,” he said, his grin still wide but with a spark of curiosity. He shot a look at Lisa, then back at Frankie, narrowing his eyes just a touch. “That’s the main reason we stopped. Though I’ll admit,” he added, glancing down at the table with a mock grimace, “I was the one really starving.”

The awkwardness of the moment barely registered for Harry. He seemed to think everything was going smoothly, unaware of the small cracks in the facade that were threatening to show. Frankie, however, was more aware than anyone, and you could see it in his eyes—the way his face shifted from the casual smile to something more guarded, something more carefully neutral. 

Frankie gave a short, almost amused laugh, pulling his arm back from your waist with a light tap. His tone was polite, more deliberate than before.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can relate,” he said, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “Keeping your lady happy, that's what it's all about, isn't it?” 

You tried to smile, but it came out thin, tight around the edges. Your legs became weak. 

Harry’s laugh was light. He buyed it.

Frankie straightened up slightly, offering his hand to Harry in that careful, calculated way that now seemed practiced, even though it hadn’t been moments ago. His movements were calculated, polite, but entirely different from the Frankie you knew. The way he was acting felt like an entirely unfamiliar version of him—Thank God.

“Okay, thanks for the chat, but we bett—” 

"Yeah, of course," Harry interrupted, still upbeat and completely oblivious to the tension. "It was nice meeting you, Frankie. Take care of her, alright? She's... well, you know. A special one."

Frankie’s smile stiffened, the edges barely moving as he gave a short nod. His eyes flicked to you for a fleeting second, his expression tight and controlled, though something was definitely off.

"I will, man," he replied, voice steady but carrying an underlying edge. "I’ve got her covered. Don’t worry. She’s in good hands."

“Bye, Harry,” you said, turning to him with a friendly but somewhat distant smile, your hand lifting in a wave that felt too casual for the weight of everything you hadn’t said. “And you too, Lisa. Good luck with the wedding!”

Lisa smiled warmly. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice smooth. “Let us know if you're coming."

“Yeah. Hope to see you at the wedding. You too, Frankie,” Harry said, just before you thought about starting to walk to the table at the back of the place.

Frankie looked confused, and looked at you for an answer, or for you to say something.

"Sure," you said, taking him by the arm, ready to leave. "We'll definitely be there!"

You moved in silence toward the booth, Frankie's hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you like an automatic reflex. The low hum of conversation in the restaurant seemed to fade as you both reached the table, and you were strangely relieved that the high backs of the seats shielded you from Harry’s view. 

He dropped into the seat across from you, his presence as loud and brash as ever, even without a word. When you looked at him, it struck you how quickly he'd reverted to the expression he always wore around you—furrowed brows, lips pressed into a thin, almost unnatural line. It wasn’t clear if it was annoyance, confusion, or just him being him.

“I’m so hungry,” you said, flipping through the laminated menu like it might hold the answers to something bigger than lunch. “I really want a burger, and some fries.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his stare heavy on you. Then:

“What the fuck was that?”

You sighed, closing the menu and flattening your hands on the table as if bracing yourself. His face was a familiar mix of wide eyes, creased forehead, and that particular grimace that always made you feel like you’d said something wrong.

You shrugged. “My ex.”

“Okay? And?”

“And that’s it. Nothing else.”

Frankie leaned back with a dramatic exhale, the leather of the booth creaking under him. He shook his head in disbelief, his jaw tightening.

“Since when am I your boyfriend?” he asked, his tone sharp with irritation. “Last time I checked, I was doing your brother a favor.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said quickly, cheeks warming. You picked up the menu again, trying to will your face back to neutrality. “Thanks for playing along, anyway.”

He sighed—loud, pointed. You glanced up, and sure enough, he was staring at you, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the table. Not impatient, exactly. Calculated.

“You’re not going to tell me what the fuck that was?”

You ignored him, letting the embarrassment swirl hot in your stomach as you fixed your eyes on the menu. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Burgers. Fries. Onion rings, maybe.

“Hey,” he said sharply, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

You blinked, snapping your head up to look at him.

“Oh, are you talking to me?”

Frankie gave you a look so exaggerated you almost laughed, except you knew he wasn’t joking.

“Who else would I be talking to? You think I’m out here monologuing? Who are you, fucking De Niro?”

“Hey!” you snapped, slamming the menu down on the table. The sound echoed between you, a sharp punctuation that sent a ripple of air across his forehead, lifting the dark strands just slightly. “Don’t talk to me like that, Francisco. Who do you think you’re talking to? We’re not friends.”

He snorted, the sound sharp but oddly soft at the same time, pulling off his cap and placing it on the seat beside him. With a low groan, he ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly in the strands. His gaze found yours again, his posture seemingly relaxed but betraying a subtle tension. You could see it in the way his shoulders didn’t quite settle, in the way his eyes didn’t blink as he studied you.

“I know, we’re not friends. But I just lied for you. Why? Who was that? And why are you acting so weird?”

Before you could answer, he straightened in his seat, leaning forward slightly. “No, wait. The real question is: why are you acting weirder than usual?”

You folded your arms, leaning back until you felt the booth press into your shoulders. Your gaze flicked to the front door, the thought of walking out taking root in your mind. Leaving felt easier—safer. Honestly, you’d rather trudge all the way back to Austin on foot, the heat and endless asphalt blistering your skin, than sit here and explain yourself to Frankie. He wouldn’t care. Worse, he might care just enough to make you regret opening your mouth.

When your eyes returned to him, though, his expression surprised you. Serious, yes. But not angry. He was watching you with an almost disarming calmness, like he’d decided he had all the time in the world to wait for your answer.

You sighed, the sound shaky as it escaped your chest.

“It’s my ex,” you said, barely above a murmur.

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Your ex. I got that part. And?”

“And his fiancée.”

“Aha,” he nodded slowly, like he was piecing something together, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “Why did you lie to them?”

You swallowed hard, the pulse in your neck thudding too loudly in your ears.

“Because...” Your voice wavered, and you hated it. “Because... Um, he told me I might meet someone at the wedding.”

Frankie blinked, his confusion shifting into something closer to disbelief.

“What?”

“God,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as heat crept up your neck. Your hands dropped to your thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. “We dated for four months, and he broke up with me to get engaged to her. Then he invited me to their wedding. When I said I’d go, he told me not to worry about showing up alone, because I’d probably meet someone there.”

Frankie’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out, so you pressed on, a flush of anger sparking under your skin.

“So, I panicked,” you admitted, your voice sharpening. “I told him not to worry, that I’d bring my boyfriend. And then you showed up, and it just—it made sense in the moment, okay? That’s it.”

“It made sense to you to say I was your boyfriend?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “You couldn’t have said I was someone else? Made up something better?”

“No, it didn’t occur to me!” you hissed, your eyes widening as your voice rose, though you kept it just shy of shouting. “I panicked, okay? I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do?”

He stared at you for a moment, his face a mix of annoyance and bafflement, before leaning back again. You could see the wheels turning in his head, though whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t about to share it with you.

You sank deeper into your seat, glaring at the table like it might offer some kind of solace. But all you could feel was the mortifying heat of his gaze, still fixed firmly on you.

Frankie scratched his forehead, his fingers dragging slowly down to his chin, where they rested briefly before falling to the table. His expression was skeptical, as if he were trying to solve a particularly irritating puzzle.

“Okay,” he started, his voice even but edged with disbelief. “So, you dated this guy for three months—”

“Four months,” you corrected, your tone clipped.

“Right. Four months. And then he left you to get engaged?”

“Yeah.”

Frankie leaned back, his posture deceptively relaxed, but the sharpness in his eyes gave him away.

“You’re telling me he cheated on you, and you’re still planning to go to his fucking wedding? Are you out of your mind?”

He propped his chin on his left hand, elbow planted firmly on the table, and his gaze locked onto you. There was something in his expression that made your stomach twist—a combination of pity and incredulity that made you feel stupid, even if he hadn’t said the word outright.

“No, he didn’t cheat on me,” you replied, lowering your voice as you leaned forward slightly, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “We weren’t in a serious relationship. We were just... casually dating. He was always in love with her, but they couldn’t figure things out. I knew that. He told me.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his disbelief evident.

“He told you he was in love with another woman, and you still kept dating him?”

“No,” you shot back, frowning. “He told me after a while—around the time we broke up. I would never date someone who was in love with someone else.”

“But you were in love with him, weren’t you?”

There it was. That tone. The one that suggested Frankie thought he had you all figured out, as if your life and feelings were nothing more than a series of obvious moves on a chessboard he could read from across the room. He was so infuriatingly arrogant, so sure of himself.

You narrowed your eyes, but the involuntary twitch of your eyebrows betrayed you.

“I had feelings for him,” you admitted, your voice stiff with frustration.

Frankie tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking into a half-smile that made you want to smack him.

“Okay, let me make sure I’ve got this straight: this guy you casually dated for four months left you for another woman, got engaged, invited you to the wedding, and you, still hung up on him, agreed to go but invented an imaginary boyfriend so you wouldn’t have to show up alone. That about right?”

“I’m not in love with him,” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively and shaking your head.

“I don’t believe you."

“I don’t care what you believe."

“You want to know what I think?”

“Are you deaf?” you said, your lips pressing into a pout. “I just told you I don’t care.”

“I think you’re crazy for going to that wedding,” he said, leaning forward slightly. His voice dropped lower, as though he were sharing a secret, though his words carried no sympathy. “Do you want to torture yourself or something? Are you a masochist?”

The word slipped out like a dagger, his eyes narrowing as he studied your reaction, his face drawing closer, his voice almost a whisper.

You exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and disbelief, biting your lower lip as you turned to look out the window. The distant hum of cars on the road outside felt like the only thing grounding you in the moment.

When you looked back at him, your voice was steadier, quieter.

“We’re friends. Things between us ended well. Why wouldn’t I go to his wedding?”

“So he broke your heart, and you’re still going to his wedding. Got it.” Frankie leaned back slightly as he said it, his tone deliberately even, but the words were sharp enough to make you flinch.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, anger mixing with a deep, familiar embarrassment.

“Why the fuck do you care anyway? I already told you everything. Make fun of me all you want, but stop interrogating me and leave me alone.”

Frankie’s eyebrows lifted, his expression shifting into something maddeningly amused. A slow, sarcastic smile spread across his face, the kind that made your stomach twist in irritation.

“You got me involved in this, remember?” he said, his voice light, almost playful, which only made you angrier.

“It was just a little lie, that’s all.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head.

“Well, you didn’t think it through,” he said flatly, reaching across the table to grab the menu you’d abandoned. He straightened it out in front of him, his fingers smoothing the creases, and his eyes scanned the options with an air of exaggerated focus.

For a moment, you thought he might actually drop it. But of course, he didn’t.

“I wonder what he’ll think,” Frankie said suddenly, his tone casual but cutting, “when he sees you show up to the wedding alone.” His eyes stayed on the menu, but his words hung heavy in the air between you. “You should’ve come up with something else. Be more witty next time. Or, I don’t know, just don’t go to the wedding. That works too.”

Oh.

Your stomach churned at the thought, the weight of it pressing down on you as your mind raced through the possibilities. He was right, of course. What were you going to do? There was no way you could actually show up to the wedding now. You’d have to turn down the invitation at the last minute, make up some absurd excuse about why you couldn’t make it. Or maybe you wouldn’t say anything at all. Harry didn’t deserve an explanation. He wasn’t entitled to one.

The silence stretched between you, uncomfortable and loud. You didn’t answer him. What could you say? You felt silly, even ridiculous, sitting there, replaying the moment over and over in your mind. Of all the places in the world, did you really have to run into Harry there, in the middle of the road, with Frankie of all people?

None of this would’ve happened if Santiago had come to pick you up like he was supposed to. If he’d warned you he couldn’t make it, you would’ve saved yourself the humiliation. You wouldn’t have had to deal with Frankie’s smirking face or his infuriating commentary.

You stared at the table, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of it. God, why did everything have to turn into a mess? Why couldn’t things just go smoothly for once?

Frankie didn’t seem to notice—or care—that you hadn’t responded. He flipped a page of the menu, his expression unreadable now, as if he’d already moved on. But his words lingered, heavy and persistent, refusing to leave you alone.

With your appetite nearly nonexistent, you ordered a hamburger. It sat heavy in front of you, unappealing and far too big. You nibbled at it slowly, methodically, as if chewing it down might somehow help you swallow the rest of your humiliation. Across the table, Frankie made quick work of his own meal. He ate like someone who hadn’t seen food in days, the kind of eating that could make anyone watching feel small.

When he finished—barely ten minutes in—he leaned back in his chair and fixed you with a look. Not an outright stare, but enough of one that you could feel the weight of his impatience.

You didn’t care.

Instead, you turned your attention to the fries on your plate. Picking up each one with deliberate slowness, you savored them, your gaze drifting toward the window. Outside, the road stretched on endlessly, shimmering in the summer heat. Frankie sighed, low and exasperated, every few minutes, but to your surprise, he didn’t rush you.

When you finally stood to leave, Harry and Lisa were nowhere to be seen. Relief swept over you like cool water. If you’d had to exchange goodbyes with them, you were sure you’d lose every bite of food you’d managed to stomach.

You followed Frankie out to the car. His footsteps were quick and purposeful, the kind that demanded anyone trailing behind him keep up or risk being left behind. Once inside, the tight, enclosed space of the vehicle made your skin crawl. You clicked your seatbelt into place, but the snugness of the strap across your chest only added to your discomfort.

For a fleeting moment, you considered bolting. What if you just opened the door and threw yourself onto the hot, sticky asphalt? You’d roll a little, maybe scrape a knee, but at least you wouldn’t be here.

The car started with a low rumble, and Frankie turned up the music without a word. The sound wasn’t loud enough to drown out your thoughts, but it added a layer of noise, a distraction you didn’t ask for but didn’t resist either.

Your gaze shifted to the scenery blurring past the window. You rested your forehead against the cool glass, welcoming the breeze coming in through the lowered window. The air smelled faintly of gasoline and sun-warmed earth.

Frankie drove in silence, his hands steady on the wheel. His thumbs tapped along to the rhythm of the song playing faintly in the background—Rebel Yell by Billy Idol. You stared at the horizon, but your mind kept circling back to him.

He probably thought this whole situation was hilarious. You could see it in the way his eyebrows had lifted earlier, the way his lips twitched with incredulity every time he asked about Harry. He didn’t need to say it—he thought you were foolish, and maybe you were. You felt it, deep in your chest, that heavy, sinking shame that told you he was right to think so.

What the hell were you going to do?

Not going to the wedding wasn’t an option, not unless you wanted Harry to think you were still upset—or worse, that you still cared. But going? Going alone? That wasn’t an option either. You could bring someone else, maybe. But who?

Harry knew all your friends, and you didn’t have many male ones left who weren’t married, taken, or entirely inappropriate. Your brother’s friends? Sure, because that would work out great. Another one of Santiago’s buddies, strolling in on your arm. You ran through the list in your head. Will? No. Ben? Ben had a girlfriend.

It was hopeless. Every scenario felt more humiliating than the last.

God, you wished you could disappear. Or better yet, transform into something simple and unbothered. A worm, maybe. Worms didn’t have exes. They didn’t have weddings to dread.

You were spiraling, and it must have shown on your face because Frankie spoke up, his voice breaking through your chaotic thoughts.

“We’ll make a stop to fill up the tank, okay?” His tone was casual, distracted, as he turned left into the gas station lot.

“Sure,” you mumbled, barely lifting your head.

The car slowed to a stop, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. For a moment, the world outside felt steadier than the one inside your head.

You followed Frankie out of the car, your steps slower and more hesitant than his easy stride. He moved with the kind of casual confidence that seemed effortless, his shoulders relaxed and his head bobbing slightly as he hummed along to a song that had been playing a few miles back. The heat pressed down on you, thick and relentless, but he didn’t seem to notice.  

You lingered by the passenger side, arms folded across your chest. Your gaze flitted to the gas station shop, where shelves of snacks and cold drinks promised brief relief from the sweltering air. For a fleeting moment, you considered going inside—maybe grabbing a soda, or even just standing under the blast of an air conditioner. But then you thought about how much longer that would draw out this journey. The idea of extending your time in Frankie’s company, even by a minute, was enough to keep you rooted in place.  

So you waited, watching him in silence. He moved with the kind of efficiency you’d expect from someone used to things like this—mundane tasks, long drives, solitude. He didn’t rush, but he didn’t dawdle either. He glanced at you once as he replaced the nozzle, his expression unreadable, and then he climbed back into the car without a word.  

You followed suit, settling into your seat and pulling the door shut with a soft click.  

The miles ahead stretched out endlessly, yet the closer you got to Austin, the more your thoughts swirled. You cycled through possibilities, none of them good. Each option felt like another layer of embarrassment, a new way to showcase just how deeply you’d tangled yourself in this ridiculous situation.  

Eventually, your mind settled on one solution—a compromise of sorts, though it was far from ideal. You turned it over and over, weighing the risk against your pride. It felt heavy in your chest, but the closer you got to the city, the harder it became to ignore.  

Finally, as the familiar outline of Austin came into view, you forced yourself to speak.  

“Frankie,” you said, your voice tentative. You turned to look at him, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap.  

He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “What?”  

“You know,” you began, cautiously, “Santi loves you a lot. You’re one of his best friends.”  

“I know.” 

“And you must love Santi too, right? I mean, you’d do anything for him.”  

At that, he glanced at you, his brows knitting together in confusion. The kindness in your voice must have thrown him off. But what really seemed to unnerve him was the faint, almost hesitant smile you were giving him.  

“Of course I love him,” he said slowly, his tone edged with suspicion. “What do you want?”  

You smiled a little wider, tilting your head. “Why do you think I want something?”  

“Because you’re smiling at me like that,” he shot back, returning his focus to the road. “And it’s creepy. Stop it. You’re scaring me.”  

“I just think,” you said carefully, “that it was really nice of you to go all the way to Dallas to pick me up. You didn’t have to, you know. I could’ve taken a bus or figured something out. But you did it anyway. You did me a favor today, and I just—”  

He cut you off with a dry laugh, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. A bead of sweat had formed there, glistening in the harsh afternoon light.

“If you want to call it that,” he muttered.  

“I mean it,” you insisted, leaning slightly toward him. “You didn’t have to do this. You could’ve said no, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. Why?”  

His grip tightened on the wheel, and he shot you another quick, sidelong glance. His expression was guarded, like he wasn’t sure where this was going or if he wanted to know.

“I dunno,” he said finally, his tone clipped. “Because Santi asked me to. Because I had nothing else to do. Does it matter?”  

You pursed your lips, staring straight ahead as your thoughts spiraled. Why were you nervous? It wasn’t fear—definitely not fear of him. But still, there was something about Frankie that unsettled you, something sharp-edged and unyielding in the way he looked at you, like he could see more than you intended to show.

You forced yourself to steady your breathing, trying to reason with your own hesitation. It didn’t matter if he was intimidating. It didn’t matter what he thought of you.

“I think you should come to the wedding with me,” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you had the chance to second-guess them. As soon as they were out, you snapped your gaze away, focusing intently on a crack in the dashboard as though it held the secrets of the universe.

“What?” Frankie’s tone wasn’t as surprised as you’d expected—it was more amused, like he thought you’d just said something profoundly ridiculous.

“You should come to the wedding with me,” you repeated, forcing yourself to look at him this time.

He turned his head briefly, his eyes scanning your face, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be studying you, trying to decide whether you were joking or if you’d completely lost your mind. Finally, he clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Frankie.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, his voice rising slightly in exasperation. “Did you hit your head or something? Have you completely lost it?”

“No, just hear me out,” you said, raising a hand in what you hoped was a calming gesture. He shot you a wary glance but didn’t interrupt. “It’ll just be a favor—a small favor. I swear, if you do this for me, I’ll give you whatever you want. Wathever. Um, well—not whatever you want,” you corrected quickly. “Something reasonable. Something human. Please.”

Frankie snorted, a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re asking me to pretend to be your boyfriend at the wedding of a guy who dumped you? And you’re the sister of one of my best friends?” He shook his head, laughing quietly, like he couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of your mouth.

You sighed, the weight of your desperation pressing down on you.

“Santi will understand,” you argued, your tone bordering on pleading now. “He will. And it’s not like I’m asking for much—just come with me for a little while. We don’t even have to stay all night. Just long enough to…” You trailed off, realizing how pathetic you sounded. “Just long enough to make it believable.”

“Sorry, no,” Frankie said firmly, cutting you off. “I’m not getting dragged into your drama. And honestly? I think it’s stupid for you to go to that wedding in the first place. What are you trying to prove? My answer is no. Invite someone else.”

Frustration burned in your chest, rising up to your cheeks as his words landed. You could feel your face heating, both from embarrassment and anger.

“I can’t invite someone else,” you snapped. “You’re my boyfriend, remember? That’s what Harry thinks. He saw you. They saw you. And you did a pretty good job pretending to be nice to me today—can’t you do it one more time? Just this once?”

“No—”

“I’ll do anything you want,” you interrupted, your voice insistent. “I mean it. Any favor you can think of. Just name it.”

Frankie tilted his head, giving you a skeptical look.

“I’m not interested in any favors from you,” he said bluntly. “I don’t need anything.”

“Then do it for Santi,” you said, desperate now.

Frankie laughed at that, a low, disbelieving sound that only irritated you further.

“What does your brother have to do with any of this?”

“He’s your best friend,” you said, leaning toward him slightly, like you could will him to understand. “And you love him. And I’m his sister.”

“Uh-huh,” Frankie said, still smirking. “So?”

“So, doesn’t that mean you should help me?”

Frankie’s laugh grew louder, his shoulders shaking slightly as he glanced at you.

“You’re really reaching now, aren’t you?”

He turned to look at you then, the movement deliberate, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met yours. There was no malice there, but the firm set of his jaw told you all you needed to know—there was no convincing him. He understood the weight of your request, the quiet urgency stitched into each word, but it didn’t sway him.

“I’ve never asked you for help before,” you said, your voice softer now, almost brittle. “In fact, I’ve refused your help plenty of times. You said I was childish, remember? Well, fine. Maybe I’m being childish. But now I’m asking. Just this once.”

He shook his head slowly.

“It’s not the same thing,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was trying to explain something simple to a child. “And you are being childish. Like I told you—no. The answer’s fucking no.”

You blinked hard, swallowing against the sting of rejection that settled heavy in your throat.

“Okay, fine,” you replied, the word clipped, your voice devoid of emotion. You turned your face away from him, angling it toward the window, not wanting him to see the look on your face—humiliation, maybe, or something closer to defeat. “Thank you.”

Frankie sighed, long and low, his hands flexing around the steering wheel as though he were squeezing the last ounce of patience from himself. The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the low hum of the car and the faint thrum of your pulse in your ears.

The rest of the drive passed without a single word exchanged. You stared out the window while Frankie focused intently on the road, his grip on the wheel tight and unyielding.

When the car finally pulled up in front of your house, the relief that washed over you was immediate and overwhelming. You reached for the door handle, your fingers trembling slightly, and stepped out into the humid air.

Frankie followed, moving around to the back of the car with the same mechanical precision he’d had all day. He popped the trunk and pulled out your suitcase, the effort seemingly as uninspired as when he’d loaded it hours ago.

He carried it to the door and set it down, his movements brisk, almost dismissive. You stood there, arms crossed, your body angled away from him, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“That’ll be all,” he said finally, his tone flat, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes on your face.

“Thank you,” you murmured, barely audible. “I’ll let Santi know I’m home.”

“Good.”

You didn’t look up as he turned back toward the car. You didn’t watch him leave, but you heard the sound of his door slamming shut, the low rumble of the engine as he drove off.

As the noise of his departure faded into the distance, you stayed rooted to the spot for a moment longer, the weight of the day pressing heavy on your shoulders. The heat prickled against your skin, and your head ached faintly, a dull reminder of how much you wanted this day to end.

You grabbed the handle of your suitcase, pulling it inside as the silence of the house enveloped you. You needed a shower—cold water to wash away the heat, the frustration, the embarrassment of it all. You needed to be alone, to let the day dissolve into nothingness behind a locked door.

Nearly two weeks slipped by, lost in the haze of your routines and the background hum of self-destructive thoughts.

What were you going to do? Probably nothing. You wouldn’t go. That was the easiest answer, and maybe the only one that made sense. What choice did you really have?

Still, Frankie’s words stuck in your head, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. What are you trying to prove? he’d asked. And after a few restless nights, staring at the ceiling and replaying the conversation, you realized he was right. You did want to prove something—to Harry, to yourself. You wanted him to see you happy, radiantly happy, at his wedding, as though it didn’t touch you at all. You wanted to seem light and unbothered, the kind of woman who could be at her ex’s wedding without flinching.

Except you did care. Of course, you cared. You hated that you cared. And you hated Harry for putting you in this position. How could you not be upset? The man had left you only a few months ago, and now he was marrying someone else. It wasn’t normal—none of it was. But you couldn’t shake the question gnawing at the back of your mind: why did you have to be the one left hurt?

And Frankie. You’d hated the way he’d looked at you when he said it; What are you trying to prove? What the hell were you trying to prove? like he couldn’t believe how foolish you were. If you hadn’t wanted to see him before, you definitely didn’t want to now. You resolved to talk to Santi, to tell him how uncomfortable the trip had been—without blaming Frankie, exactly—and to ask, kindly but firmly, that he warn you if Frankie would be around in the future.

It was humiliating, this whole situation. But you were sure about one thing: you never wanted to see Francisco Morales again.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving your kitchen in soft shadows as you stirred sugar into your coffee. Your gaze stayed fixed on your laptop, on Harry’s wedding invitation glowing on the screen. You’d read it so many times it felt permanently etched into your mind. But now, you’d decided. You weren’t going.

Your finger hovered over the trackpad, guiding the cursor to the “RSVP not attending” option. You paused, just for a second, your chest tightening. Then, before you could click, the doorbell rang, sharp and sudden, making you flinch.

Setting the mug down, you crossed to the window, peering out at the sidewalk. The sight below made your brows knit together. That couldn’t be right. Surely, you were imagining things.

You slipped on a pair of shoes and headed downstairs, opening the door without much thought.

“Francisco,” you said flatly, his name sitting awkwardly on your tongue. “What are you doing here? Did something happen with Santi?”

He dragged a hand over his mouth and shook his head, slow and deliberate.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” Your tone was sharp, incredulous, your expression twisted like he’d just said something absurd.

He looked different somehow. Neater, you thought, though you hated yourself for noticing. His hair was slightly shorter, his beard more trimmed than usual.

He sighed, long and heavy, like he’d been forced into something he didn’t want to do. The sound made you laugh, a sharp, derisive snort. As if he had the right to be irritated. He’d shown up unannounced, at night, on your doorstep. If anyone should feel fed up, it was you.

“I’m going to help you,” he said finally, the words clipped and begrudging.

“With what?”

“With your ex.”

“What?” The confusion on your face deepened. “Harry?”

Frankie glanced to the side, as if checking for onlookers, before returning his gaze to you and nodding.

“Are there other exes you need help with?”

His question was thick with sarcasm, and you rolled your eyes in response.  

“Well, I don’t need your help anymore. But thanks,” you said quickly, your voice tight, as you began to push the door shut, inch by inch.  

Then his hand was on it, stopping you.  

“Wait,” he said, and this time his voice was different—tinged with something almost like desperation. “I’m serious.”  

You paused, narrowing your eyes at him through the gap.

“Why would you help me? You were very clear the other day,” you said, your tone sharp. “There’s no point in me going to the wedding.”  

“True, there’s no point,” he said, his gaze steady on yours. “But I know you well enough to know you’d love to go anyway. To show Harry how great you’re doing. Am I wrong?”  

“You’re wrong,” you shot back instantly, too quickly.  

Frankie sighed, the sound dragging out like he was trying to buy himself time. He glanced away for a second, then back at you, his expression suddenly resolute.  

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said.  

You blinked at him, stunned into silence for a moment.

Then, with a raised brow, you asked, “Are you sick? Do you have a fever, Francisco?” You brought your hand up toward his forehead, but he flinched back dramatically before you could touch him.  

“What are you up to?” you asked, pulling the door open wider, suspicion laced in your tone.  

Frankie stood there, his posture stiff, his expression uncomfortable, like he was holding something in that might burst out if you pressed too hard.  

“May I come in?” he asked finally, his brown eyes soft and glinting, almost boyish.  

You hesitated, studying him for a few beats, letting the curiosity outweigh your disdain. Then you stepped back and opened the door fully, sealing the moment with the soft click of the latch behind him.  

Frankie climbed the stairs ahead of you, pausing at the top to wait as you opened the door to your apartment. He stepped inside, scanning the space.  

Your living room was warm, cozy but cluttered—books and mugs scattered across the coffee table and nearly every other available surface, interspersed with pens, pencils, and random odds and ends. Behind the sofa, the kitchen was visible, small but functional.  

You stood back, watching him take it all in. His expression was unreadable, but you imagined him silently judging the chaos. You almost wanted him to—let him think it was messy, or that your style was lacking. You didn’t care.

He didn’t belong there, in your space. Everything about him seemed incongruous with the world you’d built for yourself—his presence like a mismatched puzzle piece, forcibly shoved into place where it clearly didn’t fit. He was out of tune with your reality, standing in the warmth of your living room like he’d wandered in from an entirely different life.

You crossed to the kitchen island, where your half-drunk coffee sat waiting. Sliding onto the stool, you gestured at the one across from you.

“Have a seat.”

Frankie hesitated but eventually sat down, his movements stiff and reluctant, like he’d rather be anywhere else. His expression was tight, uncomfortable, like he was a vampire catching the faintest whiff of garlic in the air. His eyes landed immediately on your laptop, still glowing with Harry’s wedding invitation.

“I see you’re taking the wedding well,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You sighed audibly, refusing to take the bait.

“What do you want?”

As you waited for him to answer, you lifted your coffee to your lips. It had already cooled, the bitterness more pronounced now that it was lukewarm. Another thing he ruined for you, you thought bitterly. Your fucking coffee. 

“I’ve been thinking—”

“Congratulations,” you cut in, deadpan.

Frankie’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and unamused. He didn’t even blink, just stared at you like he was waiting for you to get it out of your system. You shrugged, feigning indifference, though the weight of his gaze made your skin prickle.

“I’ve decided I’m going to the wedding with you,” he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow, lowering your mug to the counter.

“You decided? I thought you didn’t want to go with me.”

“I don’t,” he said. His fingers brushed the edge of your laptop, tracing a line along it.

“But you’re still here,” you said, your voice laced with suspicion.

Frankie exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly.

“I’ll help you… if you help me.”

“If I help you? With what? Don’t tell me you’re finally going to therapy,” you blurted out, a half-smile tugging at your lips.

Frankie straightened in his seat, his back stiffening like you’d just landed a verbal jab. For a moment, it looked like he might get up and leave—walk out and never look back. But instead, he stayed. He clenched his jaw, his eyes locking on yours with a determined, almost defiant look.

“I had dinner with my family tonight,” he began, his voice measured but tense. “With my mom and two of my sisters—”

“Is that why you look like that?” you interrupted, tilting your head.

“What?”

“Like you finally took a bath,” you said, your smirk widening.

Frankie exhaled sharply, his patience visibly fraying. “Can you shut up and listen to me for a second? I’ll be brief.”

You held up a hand as if to say, Fine, go on.

“They’re nice, my family, but they won’t leave me alone,” he said, his tone growing more frustrated. “All through dinner, they kept asking me these awkward questions, trying to convince me to go on these dates they’ve been setting up with their friends’ daughters or coworkers or whoever.”

Your smile widened, thoroughly amused. “Why? Why don’t you just go? Come to think of it—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice sharp. “I already agreed once, and it was a disaster. I’m not doing it again. And I’m not about to get into that with you.”

“Good,” you said, leaning back slightly. “Because I’m not interested.”

Frankie sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

“Every time I see them—for over a year now—it’s the same thing. They won’t leave me alone. And look, I get it. They’re trying to be helpful. But I’ve had enough.”

Your curiosity piqued at that. “What happened a year ago? Why?”

Frankie’s face tightened, his upper lip curling slightly as if the question had caught him off guard.

He frowned, his brows drawing together, before finally muttering, “That doesn’t matter.”

The dodge only made you more curious, but you let it go, watching as he leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“The point is,” he continued, “I got fed up. So tonight, when they started in on me again, I told them to back off. That I didn’t need them setting me up on dates because… because I already have a girlfriend.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, their weight sinking in.

Oh.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyebrows lifted just enough to show your surprise, though you tried to mask it.

Frankie shifted in his seat, his gaze falling to his hand resting on his knee. He shook his head slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible motion, as though he was trying to block out whatever he feared you might say next.  

“Funny,” you said, your voice light with mockery. “And your mother believed you?”  

When he looked up at you, his expression darkened. The amused smile playing on your lips ignited a flash of irritation in his eyes. You looked entirely too entertained by the situation, and it made him bristle.  

“Hardly,” he admitted, his tone sharp. “I don’t even think I convinced her. That’s why I need your help.”  

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly, as though creating space from whatever absurdity was about to come out of his mouth.

“You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?”  

Frankie nodded once, curtly. “My mom’s birthday is in a few days. She’s turning sixty. She’s having this big nice party, and she told me she wants to meet my girlfriend then.”  

You crossed your arms, still trying to gauge whether or not this was some elaborate joke.

“When’s the party?”  

“Next Saturday.”  

Your eyebrows shot up, and your lips parted in disbelief.

“Francisco,” you grumbled, the word low and heavy. “That’s in three days.”  

“I know,” he muttered, matching your tone. His jaw tightened like he was already regretting the entire conversation.  

“And what did you tell her?” you demanded. “What did you say when she asked?”  

Frankie’s hand moved to the counter, his fingers drumming once before he let them still.

He hesitated, and then, in a resigned voice, said, “I told her yes. That I’d bring my girlfriend to her birthday.” He paused, meeting your gaze. “So she’d finally leave me alone.”  

You pushed back from the stool, standing in one swift, exasperated motion. Your hands flew to your hips, your whole body radiating irritation as you glared at him.  

“Oh, so you just assumed I’d help you, didn’t you?” you snapped, your voice loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. “What if I said no?”  

“I knew you wouldn’t say no,” Frankie said, meeting your anger with calm certainty.  

You let out an incredulous laugh, your head tilting back briefly before you fixed him with a sharp look.

“My God, what’s wrong with you? You don’t know what I’m thinking.”  

He didn’t flinch, though you could see his patience thinning in the slight twitch of his brow.

“I know you well enough to know you’ll say yes,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact, as though he were stating the obvious.  

The sheer audacity of it made you want to scream.

Frankie rose from his spot, his movements deliberate and quick. His footsteps echoed as he crossed the room, closing the space between you with purposeful strides. He stopped in front of you, standing taller, looking down at you with an intensity that was hard to ignore.  

“I know you want to go to the wedding,” he said, his voice firm. “I know you asked me to go with you, and you were persistent. And anyway, I think you owe me.”  

You blinked, incredulous, a small laugh escaping your lips despite yourself.

“I owe you?”  

Frankie’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he took a small step closer.

“Don’t forget that the only reason you didn’t make a complete fool of yourself in front of Harry was because I decided to help you. I played along. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve exposed you in front of him and his fiancée. I could’ve made it worse.”  

“Thank you so much, Francisco, you're a fucking angel,” you spat, your tone thick with sarcasm, though the incredulous smile on your face betrayed how absurd it all felt. “What do you want me to do? Give you a hero of the century award?”  

Frankie’s expression didn’t waver; he was dead serious. “No. Come with me to my mom’s birthday and we’re even.”  

You froze for a moment, processing his words, the sheer audacity of them making your heart skip a beat. This was beyond ridiculous.  

"You're fucking crazy! Are you serious?" you demanded, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice. "It’s not even close. Harry’s my ex something, nothing more. And you’re asking me to go with you to a family event, full of your relatives, and you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend in front of all of them?”  

Frankie’s eyes flicked upwards, his impatience seeping into his expression. He rolled his eyes.  

“It’s not like we’re getting married,” he said, dismissive, his voice tinged with frustration. “You’re exaggerating. It’s not the first time I’ve taken a girlfriend to a family thing. What are you, fifteen?”  

You crossed your arms, giving him a skeptical look. “I don’t know, by my standards, introducing a girlfriend to your family seems like a pretty serious thing.”  

Frankie exhaled through his nose, clearly growing more insistent. He looked at you with unwavering intensity, his gaze now pointed, as if trying to break through the walls you were building between you and this ridiculous proposition.  

“I’ll take care of that,” he said, his voice steady but with a finality that made it clear he wasn’t backing down.

You stood there for a moment, the room stretching in a strange, suspended silence. You weighed his words in your mind, the absurdity of the situation tangled with a strange sense of reluctant curiosity.  

“Are you really going to accompany me to the wedding?” you asked, your voice quieter than you’d intended, the question slipping out like something you hadn’t meant to say aloud.  

Frankie nodded, a reassuring, almost teasing gesture, as though he was certain he had already won.

“I’ll help you catch the bouquet and everything,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling in a grin that almost made you want to punch him.  

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, your voice edged with irritation.  

“And yet, here you are, still going with me to that wedding.”  

Frustration rose in your chest, pooling in your throat like heat. You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the rush of emotion that threatened to spill over. How utterly insolent. How impossible.  

“Fine,” you finally spat out, barely containing the anger simmering beneath your words. “I’ll help you. But you’d better make my time count, Francisco.”  

He flashed a half-smile, the kind of smug, self-satisfied smirk that made your fingers itch to slap him. You wanted to say something else—something cutting, something that would make him regret this entire conversation. But you couldn’t.  

Instead, Frankie reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen a couple of times before handing it to you.

“Give me your number.”  

You took the phone from him with a swift, almost startled motion, your fingers brushing against his as you punched in your number. The action felt mechanical, as if you were moving through a script you didn’t want to follow. When you handed it back to him, you watched him tap the screen, adding you to his contacts with deliberate motions. His fingers moved quickly, but you couldn’t catch the name he gave you. It was probably something ridiculous, something that made you cringe even without knowing it.

He didn’t say anything, just slid the phone back into his pocket, and turned to head for the door. But before he reached it, he stopped and looked at you, his eyes meeting yours once more.  

“I’ll text you,” he said abruptly, almost as if it were a last-minute afterthought.  

And then, without waiting for a response, he opened the door and left, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet stairs. You stood there, still staring at the empty doorway, the weight of his words hanging in the air long after he was gone.

With one click, you confirmed your attendance.

tags: @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti (a few of the tags aren't working, idk why, fix it tumblr!!!!)

beautiful divider by @saradika-graphics 💗

[still-a-morosexual-help]

honestly tho om lucifer is such a comfort character

you know mammon's my all time all around favourite no contest but like

lucifer just hits different

he's so tired and he's so overworked and he loves his family so much it makes me sick he's willing to kill and die for them at any chance he made the misfits of the celestial realm his family despite being the perfect example of an angel himself he thinks his brothers are adorable he just wants them to have one quiet day

he's such a bastard he's arrogant and prideful and he'll willingly meow like a little kitty cat because his boybestfriend is sad

he's got daddy issues he's terrified he's traumatised his greatest fear is his father he spent years fighting a pointless war and never questioned his father about whether they ever even tried to find a way to end the war without just mindlessly trying to kill people who really aren't that different from them for a reason no one knows he's willing to be given piggyback rides by another high profile man in a public area

he's a dog person he's weak to puppy dog eyes from everyone he cares about he's constantly done with Mephisto's shit he gets jealous because one of his friends complimented their mutual friend's cookies

he's willing to villainize himself in the eyes of his family to keep them safe he's sadistic his first response to being cornered and scared is to kill anyone who's making him feel that way his love language with his brothers is being a little shit to them he's somehow connected to/the starting point of all the issues/trauma his brothers have he has empty nest syndrome even though all his brothers live at home he hasn't realised the extent to which his actions and words have fucked up his brothers and is constantly surprised and devastated by it when he realises

he has a son he pretends is his brother whom he only ever canonically acknowledged as his son twice which led to huge blowout fights one of his younger brothers bullies him into going to the pub with them once a week his son runs a club with his youngest brother dedicated solely to making his life miserable

he's sadistic he genuinely enjoys seeing people suffer he's so polite he'll allow himself to be poisoned by food he knows is bad he bought dinner for a whole restaurant because it was the owner's birthday he wore a silly outfit and worked at a themed restaurant as a favour for a friend he gets visibly more aroused when he's ordered around he insults his brothers but gets upset whenever an outsider does the same

he loves his human so much and he's so annoyed at them he's so frustrated with them he's so angry at them and he's so worried about them so protective of them so incredibly proud of them he has tried to kill them many many times

he's a borderline alcoholic he's immortal he's greying he gets migraines he forgets to eat and he sleeps at his desk he does the mom thing and orders takeout for his children when he goes out to eat without them he likes dad jokes his greatest wish is to visit a factory he likes good socks he's a grumpy old man

he's over 10 million years old he's an eldritch horror he's the personification of the sin of pride he needs glasses to read his childhood friend? ex-boyfriend? kind-of-brother? old coworker? brother in arms? calls him luci

he's a naggy paranoid perfectionist he removed the entire bathroom because one of his brothers forgot to clean it he had to literally be kidnapped to send him on a vacation he ripped out multiple sets of his own wings he doesn't like being seen shirtless he lectured jason voorhees about him not killing efficiently enough

he's a respected and recognised drag queen he believes love is love he's canonically so beautiful but no one ever makes a move on him because the whole realm thinks he's in a committed long term relationship he refuses to believe his best friend is in love with him despite multiple people saying so

he's the type of person you want to please the type of person you want to make proud the type of person you want on your side because you know no matter what he'll always have your back you're safe that as long as he's there everything will be okay the type of person you want to be held by while everything is falling down around you

he's even queer

[lovelynicho]

&team as - romantic tropes

Pairing: &team x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: reader is bisexual in Jo's

Note: english is not my first language, I apologise for any mistakes

Masterlist

K

Enemies to lovers

Since you started art college you were sure of only one thing. You hated him. You hated that he was always praised for his dancing, and you weren't even noticed. You hated the smug smile on his face whenever he was called the best in your year. And you were sure the feeling was mutual. Because why else would he purposefully embarass you infront of others. Why else would he go straight to you whenever he did better than you in anything. You were sure you hated him. You are not too sure anymore tho. That smug smile of his starts to seem more and more pretty each day you look at him. The way he dances makes your lips part a little and the air stuck in your lungs. And the moments he would use to embarass you fade into flirting with each other in a teasing way. And now you're confused why you feel butterflies in your stomach every time you see him.

Fuma

Love at first sight

He was on his way to practice from a coffee shop. Four coffee to go in his hands for him and three of his group mates. He just took a look at his phone to see the time but when he looked back he saw a cute dog looking up at him with big eyes. He couldn't help but smile at the pet. And then he heard a voice, it was you calling for your pet. "I'm sorry, he just loves the smell of coffee" you said as you gave him a small smile. He just stared at you, his lips barely parted in amusement. You were beautiful. The way your lips curled up at both ends, the way your eyes shined when you looked at your dog and the way you said a quiet "bye" after you put the leash on your dog to walk him away. "Have a nice day" he said to you, a little louder than needed, after you already turned around. "You too" you gave him a last smile and walked away. And he just stood there for a good minute, trying to process what just happened. And he's still hoping to see you again, and maybe ask you out.

Nicholas

Fake dating

Why did you get into a fake relationship in the first place? Well, your ex was a real freak, he kept stalking you even after you broke up with him. You needed someone to scare him away. And what did Nicholas win from that? Mostly free food every time you hang out at your place, and a reason to leave his house. But after a while it all just started to feel too real. All your friends knew him as your boyfriend and all his friends knew you as his partner, and they treated you as such. And you started to feel like you want it to be real. Every time he got too close you felt butterflies in your stomach. So you decided that it was time for you to break up this fake relationship. He came over for a 'date', and you two were just eating together when you mentioned that you should end this lie. "Why would you want to do that?" he asked, he even seemed a little offended. "I mean, my ex is not bothering me anymore and you were just here for the free food anyways, it's not a big deal for you" you said, avoiding eye contact. Then you felt a hand under your chin, he made you look at him. "You really think I only did this for the free food?"

EJ

Soulmates

All of his friends already found their soulmates. It was annoying, seeing all the couples being so happy and so in love and so.....perfect. He wanted that too. He started to look for his soulmate, looking at everyone he randomly met. A little creepy? Maybe, but he was desperate. But you can imagine the happiness he felt when he found you. It was your first work day at a cafe as a barista. When he entered he looked around but then he just looked down at his phone. When he got infront of you, at first he didn't look up just started to tell you his order. "Hi, I would like to have a-" and that's when he saw you. He looked straight into your eyes and you looked up at his. They were sparkling, just like how he thought it would be when he found his soulmate. "Hi.... When does your shift end? We could talk"

Yuma

Coworkers to lovers

You worked in the same office. Your desks were next to each other's. At first you didn't talk much, only about work. But at a company party you had a really good talk after a few cups of champagne. Since then, you became more comfortable with each other. When you had a long day he passed you little doodles on sticky notes. You helped him whenever he needed help and he did the same to you. You started to hang out together with other colleagues, and he always, every single time, drove you home. And sometimes you just sat in the car for another hour talking about everything and nothing. One day, you had a particularly long day, you felt tired from looking at the monitor for such long hours. You heard a whisper from your right and you saw Yuma holding out his hand, a pink little paper in it. You already smiled. He smiled at you too. You always thought his smile looked beautiful, especially when he smiled with his eyes. You took the sticky note from his hand and looked at it. This time it wasn't a doodle, but a question written with his beautiful handwriting. "Date tonight?" You looked at him to see him wink at you. You gave him a nod while smiling brightly.

Jo

Childhood friends to lovers

You've known each other since day one. He was always there for you. When your biggest problem was to get good grades, when you were first asked out, through your sexuality crisis and when you came out as bisexual. He was there for you. And he's still there and you can't decide if him being your friend is enough. Once you were at his place, watching a movie you've seen a hundred times. You felt yourself getting tired, so you dropped your head on Jo's shoulder. This was a common habit of yours but now something was different. You felt your face blushing when he wrapped his arm around you. He looked down at you making eye contact. His ears got red like a tomato and he looked away. You wondered if he was feeling a similar confusion to yours. He was. He couldn't stop thinking about how your lips would feel against his, but he was too shy to ask for a kiss.

Harua

Grumpy x sunshine

People always say you have no feelings. You seem so cold, even when you're with your friends. They didn't even expect you getting close to Harua. He's such a smiley guy, a literal sunshine. Wherever he goes he brights up the room, always putting a smile on everyone's face. But you actually got along pretty well. Mostly because you liked the same series. So one day you two were at your place watching another part of the series you both enjoy so much. When the episode ends Harua started to imitate one of the characters and you just couldn't stop your lips from forming a bright smile on your face, a smile you barely show to anyone. And when Harua saw that beautiful smile of yours he was mesmerised. From that moment he decided, he wants to know you like no one else does, he wants to be the one who makes you smile like no one else does.

Taki

Best friend's brother

Your friend always complained about how annoying and loud he is. You were supposed to think that too but honestly, you always thought he was kinda cute. The way he playfully joked with your best friend and with you too whenever you came over. Once when you were at your friend's house, they went out to buy some snacks for the both of you. While they were gone Taki came into their room where you were scrolling on your phone. "What, you got dumped?" he asked playfully. "Very funny" you answered nonchalantly. "They just went out for some snacks". "And they didn't even ask me if I want anything" he said, playing the offended sibling too hard. "Why would they" you laughed. Then you were just looking at each other. When he realised that he might be staring for a little too long he cleared his throat and started to go out of the room, but he stopped in the door and looked back at you. "If you were on a date with me, I wouldn't leave you alone for a minute" and with that he left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Maki

Secret relationship

Let's face the truth, it's hard to be an idol. The diet, the intense practices are already hard but idols can't even date without the fans getting mad at them. Maybe if it's a secret. You guys are in the beginning of your relationship, you've been together for barely more than one month. It's hard hiding everything from his managers and even his members, but it's not impossible. One day you visited them on a shooting. It's not uncommon, you know the members for a long time and with some of your other friends you often visit them. You were on your way back to the shooting from the bathroom and you saw Maki running towards you with a giant smile on his face. He kissed you without a word. After a minute you broke apart. "I hate not being able to kiss you whenever I want to" he whispered. "Yeah, me too" you answered in a sad tone. It is hard to hide a relationship, but not impossible if you love each other enough.

[dear-ao3]

Heyy totally weird question and having never experienced a long term relationship before this is really coming just from a place of curiosity, I'm deeply sorry if I'm stepping over a line. Did your ex boyfriend change as a person as time went by, because I remember loving your posts about him, and everything seemed wonderful and adorable about your dynamic, thinking that even if these complete strangers to me break up one day it will be full of mutual respect and understanding. Can a person really change up like that? Like were there ever any signs that he is a douchebag capable of breaking things of over a text and anything else that he's done or was he never actually like that and a "change" happend over night?

I am not at all probing into your life, please don't think that, nor am I asking for some kind of explanation no, just curious about someone turn up to be a complete douchebag at the end

i mean yea there were signs, generally when youre dating someone in the beginning things seem fine and dandy and then it all falls apart later. most of the problems stemmed from the fact that he broke a lot of bad habits and then gained them back. we were also pretty young and in that weird limbo stage of life where youre figuring out what the fuck you want to do and when youre in that area of life (college) things can change very quickly and you can very quickly realize that you are not as perfect for someone as you once thought.

actually though we were decently mature towards the end of it and knew it was falling apart and were like okay when the time comes we will be respectful and this will be mutual and likely we will remain friends (cause we did get along pretty well, there were just a lot of logistics that were not working) and then he decided to dump me over text (which he didnt really realize he was doing? he thought it was a break he was proposing but he worded it so badly that i was like um no this is a breakup. goodbye. then he tried to be like oh no no no we are still good for eachother! so even though he definitely started it i finished it) and all respect was lost

tho despite all that crap i dont regret it, there was a lot of fun, learned a lot about myself and most importantly learned what it does feel like to be in love. its not my fault it didnt work out, there was a lot of stuff that i was aware of at the beginning that would make it challenging and i knew it wasnt going to last forever, but while it was good it was definitely good.

[moonficrecs]

Favourite Series Part 1

🌙 - all time favourite

✔️ - completed series

👩🏻‍💻 - ongoing series

1. Mutual Help by @personasintro 🌙👩🏻‍💻

synopsis: in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it a mutual help

genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fake dating au

2. Our Time by @taestefully-in-luv 🌙👩🏻‍💻

summary: After an accident and being in a coma for three months, you finally wake. But the last nine years of your life have been completely erased. You rely on none other than your best friend, Jungkook, to help regain your memories and yourself. But what happens when the truth of your missing time starts unraveling and it isn’t all it’s made out to be?

genre: Darker themes, crime au, mystery, fluff, heavy angst, smut, amnesia au. Best friends to ???

3. Clash by @matchagator 🌙👩🏻‍💻

summary: You're a new resident in your very first apartment excited to enjoy the simple life of adulthood. Unfortunately for you, you continue to run into unruly neighbors no matter how much you try to keep to yourself.

genre: Slice of Life | Neighbors

4. Bad Decision by @alphabetboyluvr 🌙👩🏻‍💻

synopsis: ready to make some bad decision?

genre: strangers to friends to lovers - slow burn

5. Long way home by @sparklingchim ✔️

synopsis: jungkook's life makes an 180 degree turn when he's suddenly a single dad and while you're trying to help him come accustomed to the new circumstances, your long-standing friendship takes new turns as well.

genre: single dad jk, boxer!jk friends to lovers, !angst!

6. Day by day by @hansolmates ✔️

summary: a series of drabbles about two best friends raising a child together

genre/warnings: dilf!jungkook x best friend!reader (f) angst, longing, pining, mc is a homebody, unrequited love (or is it?), potential idiots 2 lovers, best friends 2 lovers, but there’s a poopy ex-girlfriend, potential toxic relationship, alcohol use, explicit language, eventual fluff, eventual smut summary; a series of drabbles about two best friends raising a child together.

7. A little taste by @jeonqkooks 🌙👩🏻‍💻

synopsis: It all started with a little oral fixation...

genre: established relationship, mainly smut - everything is basically pwp, some fluff here and there

8. Practice by @chryblossomjjk ✔️

genre: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader. m/18+ | college au, fwb, smut, fluff, angst

9. For me by @personasintro 🌙👩🏻‍💻

summary: A collection of drabbles accompanied with dilf!jk

genre: dilf au, enemies to lovers au, neighbors au | fluff, angst, smut

10. All I want by @sxtaep 👩🏻‍💻

synopsis: You fall into the temptation of fucking your best friend, aka the biggest fuckboy on campus.

genre: fluff, smut

11. Always you by @taestefully-in-luv ✔️

summary: You and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack

12. Red by @taestefully-in-luv ✔️

summary: You drunkenly sleep with your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Can’t be that bad right? Unless he gets you pregnant.

genre: FLUFF, smut, angst:(( pregnancy au

13. Rule #5 by @taestefully-in-luv ✔️

summary: You strike up a fwb deal with your good friend Jungkook after kissing him one night after a dare. But you have rules…5 of them to be exact and it seems Jungkook doesn’t want to follow any of them.

genre: fwb, friends to ???, fluff, angst, smut

14. Runaway by @archivedkookie 👩🏻‍💻

summary: When your best friend's brother, your first-ever crush, offers to help you explore your sexual desires, you just can't refuse. Especially when it's someone as irresistible as Jeon Jungkook.

genre: best friend’s brother au, fwb (they’re not rlly friends tho), 4 years age gap, smut, angst, fluff, slow burn

15. As we were by @archivedkookie 👩🏻‍💻

summary: Your husband Jungkook was your life, your reason to breathe. And when he cheats on you with another woman, it leaves you to wonder parts of yourself you were to afraid to get to know.

genre: divorce au, infidelity au, eventual smut, heavy angst, mutual pining

[julianalvarez9]

one nail drives out another / joão félix

summary: it had all started as a mutual favour: you weren't over your ex, and neither was he. but the old saying one nail drives out another proves to be true. author's note: had this in the drafts for too long and just needed to get it out, even if i just couldn't finish it in a way that i liked :( hope it's still good tho.

warnings: smut with a plot. wc: 2.2k words

the deal was simple: he calls you when he feels alone, and you do too.

in reality, it's simpler to say that you call him to avoid calling your ex. this is what you said to yourself every time: it was for a good cause, really. anything to help you avoid the man who broke your heart several times. 

joão was one hundred percent better than that man could ever be, and you knew it was safer: at least, he wouldn’t break your heart. above every single adjective he could be described with, he was kind. and after knowing him for such a long time, you also were aware of how hard it was for him to let his past relationship go, no matter if he knew it wasn’t good for him, no matter how much she actually hurt him. he was in the same situation as you: heartbroken and on the verge of falling, again.

the kiss was heated, tongues meeting and battling each other for dominance, while letting you taste him. you still could feel the vodka on his lips, intoxicating, although you doubted if what was making your brain go into overdrive was the alcohol, or joao’s ragged breath. “i need to stop thinking about her for a second,” he pleaded, warm brown eyes normally turning a shade darker. he continued the trail of kisses, messy and wet over your neck. “please, help me”.

tonight, it was your turn to call joão.

you were about to call your ex, again, for the second time after six months, until you thought otherwise. it wasn't rocket science to understand that you were feeling alone. the flat in which you lived in now was the same one you once shared with your ex boyfriend, and sometimes, no matter how many hours you try to spend out of the four walls, you can't forget what happened. how it all went wrong, so suddenly. the doubts start to creep in when the sun sets, and you start doubting whether it maybe was your fault, after all. surely, nothing you could have ever done could excuse his cheating, but why weren't you enough?

[12:11] you said: are you awake?

[12:11] joão said: yeah

[12:11] joão said: i was just about to text you

[12:12] you said: mind if i come to your house?

[12:12] joão said: it would be my pleasure

it's been a few weeks since you've seen him, with the international break getting him away from you and his schedule just being crazy in general. and even though you were thankful for it, as a way of getting your feelings on check, you also found yourself missing him. which made everything worse. after almost four months, he knew you like the back of his hand. knew how to rile you, how to touch you, what you liked. you craved him in a way no other guy would fulfill. 

you had tried it.

you barely make it through the door before joao's planting his lips on yours fiercely. it's been too long, he thinks, while sinking his fingers hard onto your hips and backing you onto the main door, hard.

"you don't know how much i missed this," he says, and the warmth starts to seep into your bones, not only where you would expect it to when a pretty boy like him has his hands on you. the effect he has on you it's incredible, and you can only moan in response, legs almost giving up when he sinks a bit to grab the back of your thighs, signaling you to jump. you've got your legs clamped around his waist while he gets both of you into his bedroom.

he lays you onto the bed carefully, with him on top of you while the heavy makeout session continues. his hands roam your entire figure like he has forgotten the trace and wants to remember it. as if he could ever forget, he thinks to himself, before focusing right back into your taste. "do something, joão," you beg, your hands going to the top of his head and slightly tugging on his hair when he starts to trail down his kisses, wet lips tasting all the exposed skin he has available, before growing impatient and pulling the end of your shirt softly. although he's desperate to taste you, he remains calm, helping you take the clothes off before he proceeds to do the same.

he cups your heat through your underwear, and your hips bucked instinctively against his hand. he smirks, the little devil, when he feels how wet you are for him, even though your core remains clothed. you know it's been too long, and you're chasing this fix like he was the most addictive drug. "you're so wet, princesa, so needy. is this all for me?".

he wants to edge you, he wants to make you beg for him, but who's he kidding? joao's almost as desperate as you, not even being able to take off your undergarments fully, and instead, moving it to the side. he slides two fingers inside of you at once, your slick coating his fingers instantly as he feels you clenching around his digits. soon enough you're almost there and he notices, instead taking your fingers off your entrance and savoring your taste in his mouth, humming contently. he wants to feel you tightening around his length instead of his hand, and he hurries to extend the condom over his hard on.

your lips part when you feel his tip at your entrance, right where you need him most, and your fingers grab onto whatever skin he has close to you to remain grounded. his biceps are the ones suffering the attack of your nails on them, pleading him silently to, finally, make his way into you. he's slow at first, with you so tight after a few weeks apart from each other, and his eyes flutter shut, trying to maintain his composure until he bottoms out. you can't even think straight at this point, small whimpers leaving your mouth pleading him to move. joao finds the rhythm that has you moaning his name nonstop soon enough, like he always does, and you grab him by the nape of his neck to get him to kiss you and swallow your desperate noises.

“i won’t last long,” you warn, voice barely audible while your back arches away from the bed, creating a gap from the mattress. “go ahead,” joao encourages, keeping the pace that is driving you mad, and soon enough, you come undone under him. he helps you ride out your high, and thanks to how you’re clenching around him, he lets go too, not long after you. 

the air is tense once the moment has seemingly broken, both your staggered breaths, the only sounds heard through the four walls. joao knows he has to say something about the elephant in the room, but still, he doesn’t know how. you’re the first one to move, not sparing him a glance as you start to collect your things to leave, wanting to avoid the question repeating in your head. what the fuck are we?

"why do you never stay over?" he asks instead, resting his back over the bed frame. his hands pillowed under his head in a relaxed gesture, but he’s anything but calm while the question floats in the air. 

"what?" you call, not having heard his ask: you were too busy trying to find your underwear to pay attention to what the portuguese was saying. still, he continued. "it's like you run away from me every time,” he says, frowning at the thought. 

once he realizes that he won't be having an answer until you find what you're looking for, he focuses on your surroundings, scanning the poorly lit room until he finds your undergarments. they're dropped by his side of the bed, serving as a reminder of what had occurred between you two not too long ago. 

joão hooks the piece of lace cloth on his fingers, catching your attention, before you go and take them from him, slipping them on almost effortlessly. “is there a problem with me?".

now, with you not completely naked, you can answer him, although still refusing to dive into his warm brown eyes. "absolutely not”.

“and here you are, running away,” he laughs bitterly while getting up from the bed to grab his shirt. god bless, you think. the mere sight of him, laying on his bed, in just his black calvins was almost enough to get you back on the bed. but you can’t, you remind yourself. 

“i thought it was what you wanted, no?” you counteract. it’s like joao doesn't remember the talk you had before it all began. “part of the no feelings attached thing you talked about," you remind him, and he huffs annoyed, before going back to being seated on the edge of the bed, back towards you. 

you can see the marks your fingernails made on his tanned skin, still red from your doings. you’re tempted to bring it to his attention, maybe to avoid his teammates catching them tomorrow morning when he has to go back to training, but the words die on your throat.

he mutters lowly, gripping his hair like he’s about to pull some strands off. "you don't think we fucked it up already?”.

"what are you talking about?".

of course you know what he’s talking about. the deal made it clear that it was just sex: but you were friends first and foremost, and you couldn’t avoid your friend group, which you shared with him. you couldn’t avoid the questions they asked. who has you smiling so big lately, y/n? are you seeing anyone? no, of course not. i can present to you a friend, then. 

the mere thought of you with someone else made joao see red, and that's how he noticed something had changed, and that he had to do something about it before what he feared became a reality. he initially had said he had enough of relationships, and just didn't want the complications it brought. and after what he went through, it was safe to say his trust issues were at their worst. just like yours. that's why it was such a good deal at first: to get the benefits of a relationship without the problems of actually keeping one. 

“i missed you while i was away,” he begins, and your stomach turns when you hear what he has to say next. “you don’t see a problem?”. you want to say that you missed him too, but the question leaves you feeling uneasy. of course it’s a problem for him, you think. he has grown attached, like you have, but doesn’t want any of it.

“good thing that i’m leaving then, no?”.

joao's quick to stand on his feet and go over to where you are, almost turning the knob and exiting his bedroom. “stay. please," he begs, hand softly grazing your wrist to avoid you getting away from him. at this point, you're confused and hurt enough to start regretting even getting here in the first place. “you’re not making sense right now, you know, right? saying that this is a problem and then asking me to stay the night”.

 through your years being friends, you realized that joao wasn’t the best one at explaining his emotions with words. maybe, because the words weren’t truly his -having to find the words, in a language that wasn’t your own, sure made things more difficult than they needed to be-. "you and i not being together is the problem", he gets to say, almost like a last resource to get you looking at him again. "what about what you said before? that you're not ready for another relationship?".

it work in his favour, because the sentence previously muttered by joao as you turn to face him again. you’re looking into his eyes now, trying to find even an ounce of doubt that would make you leave again. you didn’t want to force him into being with you: you knew the risks when you accepted this fucking deal. you didn’t want him to feel trapped into a relationship he had never intended to start.

"i guess i'm ready when it's you,” joao smiles, softly caressing the skin of your cheek with his thumb. you feel yourself melt under him, his sweet touch and his thoughtful words. “i know you're not her. and i'm not him. but i get it if you-".

the kiss is needy, again, like it had been when you first arrived, but this time you are the one to initiate it. your hand found its way into his hair, and you pulled him impossible closer, hoping that this would clear up all his doubts without you having to say anything. of course you knew he wasn’t him. you had never dared to make the comparison, not even for a second. once the kiss is over, you rest your forehead against his, before softly whispering onto his lips. “we can take it slow. i just need you, nothing else”.

“whatever you need, princesa”.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - The Sign is Slaying

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top. Happy new year, BLabies!

Jan 2024 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 8 of 12 - Tharn in Phaya’s too big clothing is the cutest thing in the world.

I gotta to say something about Babe's acting really quickly. I love the way he’s inhabiting the personality of his naga character with reptilian eye and body movements and (I don’t know how to put this) a certain reserved, elegant, slithering- ness. He's very good this new boy of ours. (He come from something physical like dance?)

I adored them doing the walk of shame and being teased.

ALSO I enjoyed the way they handled Tharn’s gender in the past with his costume (the pha chung hang is gender neutral but that green top is a kinda combo m+f) and pronouns et al.

Language corner:

They are using ancient pronouns. I *think* I heard: daow (3rd), khun/jao/tan (2nd), kaa (Ist) - all pronouns in use are gender neutral - to the best of my understanding.

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 10 of 12 - Ooo. Day comes out to fam. Also his maa legit took his phone away and said

“I don’t mind you being gay but you can’t date a poor.”

Still, these 2 do kind of make the best secret boyfriends ever.

Also I begin to love Night: “that’s my baby” indeed. You special ain’t ya?

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 7 of 12 -  I’m starting to find this pretty boring at this juncture. Bummer, because for a while I was enjoying it.

Twins the series (Fri GaGa) ep 11 of 12 - The stuff with the spy on the team is super boring. I’m not wild about the side characters either. So most of this episode was a bust for me. I did like First’s ex. 

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 9 of 14 - Charlie & Babe = honeymoon phase. Jeff & Kim = forgotten. Pete & Way = riddles wrapped in alphas but actually enigmas. Everyone else = gang bang phase…. Apparently. Trash watch happening here.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 6 of 12 - Loved that this was a mutual kiss. (Also how comfortable are OffGunn kissing now? Babies!) I’ve moved from indifference to absolute loathing of the side couple tho.

Oddball LIES from the script = the gayest bridge in Bangkok isn’t lit up after 9pm.

Meanwhile, very important kicky kicky feet and Doc is a dork about flirting now that he’s all in. Looks like we get the official boyfriend ep next week.  

You and My Stars YT 2of 2(?) - Couldn’t find it. Not fussed. 

Time the series (Thai Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Okay so there’s a gang and someone named Chris is killed and his boyfriend, actor Foam, is jumped back in time to save him? NO SINGING. Between Chris’s death and that time-slip there’s some kind of accidental murder, a pink pocket watch, Chris being alive again but also a different person, and a make out scene. Are you also confused? Actually, the real question is: Do we continue watching? Remember we (the collective BLorg) do not trust MFlow. 

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) ep 21 of 24 - The acting has been pretty terrible all along with this series, but this one is the worst. I just can’t. I may tune in for the last installment but this one is a DNF for me. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - It’s utterly adorable. Very manga, but so far not grating on my nerves. They so cute! You know I adore a hyung romance. Add a v gay sauna scene and an OUT gay boy and just... YES. All the married breeder regulars being overly invested in their pretty cook’s queer drama queening, it's so good.

AND THEN a confession in the first episode? Japan sure loves to mess with the pacing of plots drops.

Also, how much do I want to eat every single piece  of food in this darn show? 

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 5 of 8 - Man I wish this were better I enjoyed this more. Sigh. I do LOVE the stepbrother sides. Of course I do. But how can this feature 2 of my favorite relationship types (age gap, stepbrothers) and not be my favorite BL airing? Japan, how do you ALWAYS do this to me? 

VIP Only (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - I don’t know. I just wish this were better. Also shorter.

I really miss KBL right now.

It's done I Need to Catch up

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have a spare day.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Veitnam so I assume it's on YouTube. I never even noticed. Anyone?

After Sundown - aired on Netflix Thailand. No word on inter release.

It's Airing But...

[INTERNATIONAL] Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - yeah Japan put the smack down on our boys. Sadness. You can use a VPN if you like. Read all about it here.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far.

Night Dream (Sat YT) 6 eps - It’s a pain to track down and I really didn’t like the first episode so… DNF  

The Whisperer (Sun ????) 10 eps - Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). I don't think even the perfect single dimple can motivate me to watch. Word is... it's terrible.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 10 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if safe.

Dead Friend Forever (Thai Sat iQIYI) - horror, meh, tell me if it's worth my time?

In Case You Missed it

All my year-end round ups:

TOP 10 BL Trends of 2023

Top 10 BL Secondary Pairs of 2023

2023 BLs Best Trope Execution Awards! TOP 10

BL 2023's Best:

Back Hugs Thailand & Elsewhere

Cute Bits of Domesticity

Boys Feeding Boys

BOOP!

Best Cuddles

Heads in Laps

Touching Head Touches

Thailand Put His Head on Your Shoulder

Put Your Head on My Shoulder (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES FROM THAILAND

All the BLs Announced for 2023 that didn't happen

Next Week Looks Like This

More Coming Jan 2024

Beside You (Thai YouTube)

1/24 Love For Love's Sake (Korea Gaga)- based on the Manhwa ‘Love Supremacy Zone’ by Hwacha. A young man is dropped into a game based off a novel he loves. His mission is to make another player, YeoWoon happy. But then the game starts unfolding completely different from the novel.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Why are the oversized flappy flappy sleeves so adorable? (The Sign)

Pit Babe

Frankly 2024 is starting on a whimper... mostly from Babe.

(Last week)

[bellelikesmcyt]

I honestly applaud you for being so open about your opinions on Wilbur (this is not a dis a promise)

I just feel nowadays people are so much in this mob mentality,,, like a key example would be all the dream stuff that happened this past year-ish and especially the George and catibugs shit

Personally I feel Shelby (wether she will admit it or not) she was pretty salty about how everything ended, in the sense of Wilbur still being extremely successful (pretty sure LoveJoy was about to go to Coachella before she came out with her stuff) and honestly her not being as prominent (at least in my eyes) in the Minecraft sphere

Like I shit you not, I whole heartily believe that if she did not come out with all this relationship stuff with Wilbur she would not have had a creator spotlight during Minecraft’s 15th birthday, but I digress

Shelby and Wilbur’s relationship was a messy one, I won’t deny Wilbur messed up multiple times,,, everyone messes up (we are human after all)

But at no point did he do something so extreme that he got pedophile level of canceling

Their relationship should have been kept privately and not have had old shit broadcasted all over the internet like it was the fucking Kardashians

Once Wilbur responding (it was not an apology,,, hate people who say it was an apology) Shelby changed her demeanor front,,, oh yea I had an ex once he did bad things, if you have a partner who does bad things like x y and z get out of that relationship and they need therapy,,, to OMG WILBUR WAS THE WORST HE IS A LIAR AND KILLS BABIES (I’m obviously over exaggerating, but you get the point)

Tbh if I was Shelby I would be salty too,, but no one deserves that,, who you are in a relationship is different from who you actually are as a person

If anything what we saw unfold was classic high school drama: “omg you see Timmy who is on the football team,, like he totally was a terrible bf to me freshman year,, and like yea I know he goes to therapy now, but people like him never change”

Obviously Niki dated Wilbur and she hasn’t said shit about it, and probably never will,,, bc she wants to move on, she knows that’s Wilbur probably wasn’t the best to her,,, but she ain’t gonna add more fire to the flames

Shelby never moved on and wants the drama,,, and after it destroyed Wilbur,, she still won’t be satisfied

I know because that’s exactly how I would feel,, but no one deserves that bc that type of stuff is private

Sorry for my rant,, as I said I applaud you for your opinions about Wilbur and ur not alone (I’m just too afraid to be off of anon bc even tho I’m not as active anymore, I have mutuals that will throw me in the same fire they threw Wilbur)

- 💄

i lost friends just from commenting on a lovejoy reel… so i get you, anon, i really do.

and i can’t help but be so open when wilbur saved my life. of course, if actual proof arises against him, ill change my mind and not support him. i agree he’s not an angel, but being a shitty boyfriend isn’t abuse!

you’re so smart, anon :)

[diazheartsbuckley]

Welcoming 2025 🫶🏻

As per usual, I’m a little late to this one but I want to say thank you to everyone who tagged me, you mean the world to me 💕

2024 was a weird year for me personally. I started the year off with being in a 2 year relationship with a girl that I thought I was gonna marry.

I finished my first semester of my education in January and started my second on in February and finished it just before June with a result that I didn’t love but I passed nonetheless.

Got diagnosed with ADHD and depression within the span of like six months.

My now ex girlfriend and I broke up in May and that really threw me off on a tangent, working way too much and harder than my body could take to the point of nearing a mental breakdown.

In July, I got rear ended on the expressway and suffered mild whiplash while having to fly to Canada two days later. Met my online friend of a whole decade for the first time and had a genuinely amazing time and fell in love with Toronto.

Moved to another city and started fresh but I was still overworking myself.

Decided that I was ready to start dating again and as it turns out, I definitely wasn’t lol. Put that on hold for a while before I met my boyfriend that I’ve been with 1.5 months by now. And I ended the year by finally going to therapy and actually being surprised by how much that one session already helped me.

Fandom wise was beyond great. I finally managed to post my first fanfic and it was so well received (thank you to everyone who read and commented 🥰), even tho I was so scared to post it. Soon a few more fics followed and I’m so happy that I (mostly) got my mojo back to write.

Genuinely just felt so good to be a part of this fandom despite of all the drama on some aspects. And seeing Buck kissing a man for the first time like HELLO??

Never had I felt so seen and having a character I love have the same sexuality as me. And I was so happy to see that so many others felt the same and that Oliver handled it with such care and respect.

Read some amazing fics and enjoyed a lot of art by deeply talented people. I really just felt the love poured into every work and it’s honestly making me emotional to see how supportive people are and how much effort you guys put into your works.

I love you all so much ❤️

A special thanks to my amazing mutuals who always have my back and support my work and make me feel so seen 🥰

@tizniz, @hippolotamus, @spotsandsocks, @honestlydarkprincess, @wikiangela, @daffi-990, @bidisasterevankinard, @thekristen999, @theotherbuckley, @devirnis, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @jeeyuns, @watchyourbuck, @ronordmann, @pirrusstuff, @elvensorceress, @bucks-daddy-issues, @wildlife4life, @exhuastedpigeon, @underwaterninja13, @epicbuddieficrecs, @actualalligator, @giddyupbuck, @jesuisici33, @inell, @kitteneddiediaz

[urmultideadfandomperson]

New SDV OCs!

Okay we got new OCs! These are V's ex-boyfriends. Lemme tell you bout these two

Aster Acanthus

Aster is V's first ex-partner. He was her highschool sweetheart

He is the same age as V, who is 26 years old

They didn't work out because schoolwork was always on the way and they made little to no time for their relationship

Because of that, they had a mutual agreement to break up and remain friends

Until today they are still in good terms :)

Aster is an artist, mostly focused on painting. He loves fantasy books and DnD as well

He also like to play both basketball and volleyball; he enjoys the thrill of sports

Aster is obviously not entirely human. Why? You'll find out soon...

Owen Thomas

Owen is V's ex-fiancé (surprise surprise)

His age is 30 years old, 4 years older than V

He is actually a really nice guy, but he was blinded by the greed to defend Joja Co. at all costs

Owen likes playing chess and debating, but he also has an interest in drawing (he unfortunately sucks lol)

Because Owen was blinded by his greed, he pressured his fiancée and the other lawyers to work in order to be able to protect Joja Co., since the law firm strongly favored it

When V turned down the engagement and left, he actually regretted his mistake (no way it's crazy but it's true)

He resigned from the law firm to leave the trance of pride and greed. Owen currently works as a Mathematician

He still loves V after the breakup, but he respects her decision (he still tries to get her back tho but Owen's got character development)

[luvhughes43]

Jack and her spend their time together in small not really popular places but every so often she thinks she catches Jack staring to long at model posters or siennas campaign she’s in (ik that they mutually broke up )

YES! y/n works a lot and in nyc, and jack has a busy schedule and so they dont get to spend tooo much time together. so when jack can visit they spend a lot of time in her apartment or vice versa just enjoying that quiet time away from their busy lives.

y/n doesn't think anything of it at first because she does enjoy the quiet time, but then they'd go out and she'd notice little... habits of his.

at first she'd thought she was just being paranoid and jealous because her ex boyfriend cheated on her, but then she'd catch him staring at billboards and diff modelling campaigns a little longer than one usually would. she shoves it to the back of her mind tho because maybe he was just taking in their surroundings? she didn't know.

then, because she follows him on insta she'd get recommended some of the posts he'd like on her explore page. and its just these all beautiful women. thats when she does some investigative journaling and searches who his ex gfs are who are all obviously gorgeous.

jack doesnt cheat on her, but because of her past experiences she just completely shuts down. so thats when she starts to slowly distance herself from him because she wants to protect her own heart. and like i said before jack sucks at communicating and so the two just decide to break up.

[attack1ngvertic4l]

you aightt lately ?? iahhvent been oon tumbllr in AGGESSSS whatts up thiigh ?

im doin pretty okay!!!! aside from last week where the Uterus Fuckery happened and i had like 7 mental breakdowns.

but i will make a list on things that i remember happened

got a moirail

started dating a mutual

started dating a second mutual

ex friend who was abusive found my account and fucking dmed me and then deactivated bc he 'felt bad'

moved accounts that night

like 3 weeks in everyrhing was fine then an ex friend started acting rlly rude and bitchy and blocked me because it thought i was 'anti transid' (im not, just harmful ones and i dont really use them anyway.)

said it was upset i wanted to 'kill its friend' even tho it said 'i give you full permission to kill her.' 3 days prior

said friend is a radqueer prat who just says they arent (its vriskafic8tion on a new account)

this happens repeatedly where i am sent threats from ex friend and stuff and people defend it for doing so?

said friend also does this to other friends, tells my boyfriends to do awful stuff to themselves, yadda yadda

theyre still defending it

i have to break them off and my moirail just says 'you dont understand quadrants' because i expressed discomfort with it being friends with the threat sender

?????

nothing happens

i watch ex friend crumble relationships and push everyone who defended it away and then blame it on 'being suicidal' and says 'do not commit suicide youll end up with 7 friends instead of 20.' like it didnt send threats and shit

that was sad but also like 'damn welcome to karma'

i try and talk to vriskafic8tion to understand and heelp

rhat doesnt turn out well! (do NOT go in my #discourse tag it is a NIGHTMARE)

APPARENTLY ME BEING INTERSEX AND HAVING PCOS IS A ME ISSUE AND SINCE SHE WANTS IT SHE CAN HAVE IT TOO EVEN THO SHE MOST LIKELY DOESNT

oh shes misanthropic. mmm

idk man getting RACIST vibes from her and speciest vibes

wwhateva i suppose no one likes her anymore

i thik thats it??? hi tho :p