#A triangle that's connected on all sides maybe

[butchnavi]

multishipping is a superpower you neeeeeeeeeeed to have when you love getting into shitty gay media with found family because OF course they're going to make an incest map of all the characters and your otp will almost definitely not be endgame. of course they're going to pair the main guy and girl together as endgame just because. and I mean you COULD be a hater about it and curse the writers and throw a four year long fit but it's so much more fun when you just make your peace with the fact that this was always going to happen and pretend everyone is in a happy little polycule as they go through 18575879 different pairings you know aren't going to last because fandom and just the experience of being a fan is so much more fun that way!!!

[crookedteethed]

18+ -mdni

ᥫ᭡. jj shoots, he scorns

pairing: rafe x kook!jj x fem! reader

warnings: very little smut (piv), public sex, cheating, language, plot with little porn, hecka tension, blossoming love triangle, fuckboy! jj

⌞ series masterlist ⌝ ⌞ I ⌝

Rafe held his breath, waiting for the swift swing of JJ's golf club to connect with the small white ball. The anticipation built as JJ pulled back, his muscles tense and ready to strike.

And then, with a powerful release, the club whooshed through the air, followed by an explosive shout of "Yo, Maybank!" from Rafe.

The sudden noise caused the young boy to jump in startled surprise, causing him to miss his shot at the golf hole. The sound of the club hitting the ground echoed through the quiet course, as JJ turned to face Rafe with a mix of annoyance and amusement on his face.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe! I could've made that shot!"

Rafe clicks his teeth, knowing damn well that his friend wasn't as good as a golf player as him.

"You been avoiding me, man?" Rafe asks, slowly approaching Jay, his golf club balancing on his muscular shouldar blades.

"Nope, nah man," JJ said, avoiding Rafe's glower, tongue poking out the side of his mouth, positioning his body to make another shit shot.

JJ swishes, he doesn't score.

"Shit." Jay curses. "Can you maybe back up some? You're ruining my mojo. I was doing good before you got here."

Rafe nods, scooting back, so JJ could make another shitty shot.

"So, if you're not avoiding me, then why haven't you been answering my calls or texts?"

Jay's eyes practically sparkled as he shrugged nonchalantly, his voice dripping with arrogant confidence.

"I live a fast-paced life, you know? Running my father's successful inns, cruising around in my shiny new Bently and indulging in all sorts of pleasures…like my girl, whom I love to fuck in my luxurious car. I also started seeing this new piece on the side, too, and fuck, does she have the cutest ass."

He twirled his golf club expertly and with perfect aim, sinking the shot flawlessly. Turning to Rafe with a smug grin, he challenged him with a triumphant glint in his eye. "See that? That's what winning looks like, my friend."

Rafe grits his teeth, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he decides to join in on the fun and play some golf too.

"Do I know her?" Rafe's voice drips with arrogance and entitlement as he positions himself to swing the golf club.

"Do you know who?" JJ steps up behind him, watching his friend pull back his arms for the swing.

Rafe's ball flies through the air, landing perfectly in the hole. He turns to JJ with a self-satisfied smirk, daring him to match the shot.

"New piece of ass, huh?" Rafe's tone is lecherous and degrading.

"She's no one important," JJ shrugs nonchalantly. "Just a pouge girl."

Rafe's lips curl into a sneer. "Always chasing after those lower-class runts, aren't you?"

"You know me," JJ says defensively. But deep down, he knows Rafe is right.

Rafe smirks as he watches JJ approach the patch of grass, ready to take his swing. "It's nice to know you're not avoiding me," Rafe says with false sincerity. "Because if I didn't know any better, I would think you were mad at me all because I kissed your precious girlfriend."

JJ tenses, his grip on the golf club tightening until his knuckles turn white. "What?" he snarls in a high-pitched voice. "Mad at you? For kissing y/n?" He scoffs and takes another swing, barely making it to the hole thanks to the strong wind.

"Besides," JJ continues with a coldness in his tone, "I got the pouge girl, too now, remember?”

It's Rafe's turn to swing now, but he forfeits and turns to JJ with a sly grin.

"So, you wouldn't mind if I started messing around with y/n then?" Rafe taunts, knowing that mentioning y/n hits a nerve in JJ.

JJ's jaw clenches, his blue eyes flashing with barely contained rage. He takes a step towards Rafe, golf club still gripped tightly in his hand. "You stay away from her," he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

Rafe's grin widens, sensing he's struck a nerve. "Oh? And why should I? You just said you didn't care."

"I don't," JJ insists, but his voice wavers slightly. "I just... I don't want her mixed up with someone like you."

Rafe chuckles, taking a step closer to JJ. They're almost nose to nose now, the tension between them palpable. "Someone like me? And what exactly am I like, Jay?"

JJ's jaw clenches and his eyes narrow to slits as he stares at Rafe with seething anger. "You are a manipulative, entitled asshole who thinks he is always right--"

"Is that why y/n chose to be with you then, a serial cheater?" Rafe sneers, his eyebrows furrowed in disdain.

The tension between them escalates until they are standing nose to nose, their once friendly game of golf forgotten as their friendship shatters in the heat of their rage. The air crackles with animosity as they exchange heated insults, each determined to prove their superiority over the other.

Rafe's eyes bore into JJ's with a razor-sharp intensity, daring him to continue their verbal sparring match. But Rafe knew he had the upper hand and decided to call it quits before things escalated further.

"As much as I'd love to keep going, I've got more important things to do," Rafe sneered. "Like getting ready for the party I'm throwing tonight--and don't worry, I already invited your princess, y/n. Maybe you should bring your pouge girl along too, just so I can have a turn with her."

The words dripped with malice and a twisted desire for control as Rafe grinned wickedly.

JJ stood at the top of the steep golf hill, gripping his golf club tightly as he watched his best friend Rafe walk away. His mind was flooded with thoughts of hitting Rafe in the back of his buzzed head with the club, but something held him back. It wasn't worth it.

As he gazed down at the rolling green hills and peaceful scenery, JJ couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy. Rafe always seemed to have everything handed to him on a silver platter, including you, Jay's girlfriend.

JJ knew how dangerous it could get when something stood in Rafe's way. Their friendship had already been tested once before, and that ended in bloodshed. But this time, it was different. This time, JJ had some poor broad to fuck and fall back on while Rafe would get to fuck the girl Jay actually wanted—you.

As he made his way back to his Bentley parked in the Country Club's lot, JJ's urge to golf had been replaced by an overwhelming feeling of dread. He needed to call you and break things off before Rafe got his hands on you.

But when he tried calling and texting you, there was no response. JJ began to panic, wondering if you were okay. You always made his calls and texts a priority, so why weren't you answering now?

He called again and still no answer. That's when JJ decided he would break up with you at Rafe's party tonight.

Little did he know, while he was too busy trying to reach you, you were busy bouncing on Rafe's cock in the only rocking Black Jaguar in the parking lot.

"Did you tell him?" You panted, your body pressed against the car ceiling as Rafe thrust into you relentlessly.

"No," Rafe groaned, "Not yet. But who cares? JayJay wouldn't even give a damn."

Your heart sank at his words. You didn't like the idea of cheating on JJ, but you couldn't resist Rafe's charm and touch.

"We have to tell him," you whimpered, trying to slow down Rafe's movements.

But of course, he only went faster. "He doesn't deserve you," Rafe growled, gripping your hips tightly as he pushed deeper into you.

You both stayed silent for a while, consumed by pleasure and guilt. But as you both reached your highs, Rafe promised that you would tell JJ tonight at his party.

As you lay in silence afterwards, caressed by Rafe's hand, you couldn't help but wonder how this night would end- with bloodshed or forgiveness.

a/n: thank you all for making it to the end, as per usual reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! 🫶🏾

taglist:

@alexxavicry @nemesyaaa @rafestoothbrush @trapistani @theeternaloptimistt @scne-vampire @lilithblackkk @cryinghorny @futuremrscameron @littlelamy @elmolovesw33d @faephoria

[malspinningyarns]

I’m perfectly fine with the decision to cut the Wicked musical into two parts for the film because, first of all, it gives the audience time to breathe in between songs and allows for more detail. Also, there isn’t a single song you can cut from Wicked that wouldn’t ruin the pacing or emotional punch of the entire thing. I know people don’t like “Something Bad” but the Doctor Dillamond and the animals plot is Elphaba’s entire reasoning for going against the Wizard. People also don’t care for “A Sentimental Man” but it establishes the villain of the story and it gives us an important lyric in “Defying Gravity”. If you cut out any of the Elphaba/Fiyero/Glinda love triangle, you cut out an emotional core AND it affects the Nessarose/Boq subplot, which is important to Elphaba’s arc, AND both of those side plots affect major Wizard of Oz connections. That is a carefully woven book of a musical.

If anything, part two could maybe use an extra song or two to beef it up.

[librababe99]

Echoes of Her

A/N: Nothing like a little angst to start everyones day! As always comments and feedback are appreciated--My asks are open as well! I hope everyone enjoys - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆ Summary: Caught in a painful love triangle with Logan and Jean Grey, the reader confronts Logan about their unspoken connection... Warnings: Angst, Hurt without comfort, love triangle  Word Count: 1146 

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The silence in the mansion's corridors was thick, the kind that presses against your chest, making it hard to breathe. Every step you took echoed off the cold, marble floors as you made your way to the training room. It was late—too late for anyone else to be awake—but you knew he'd be there. He always was when the weight of the world became too much to bear.

You paused outside the door, your hand hovering just above the handle. A part of you didn't want to go in. You already knew what you'd find—Logan, shirtless and sweating, his muscles rippling as he pushed himself far beyond what was necessary. He didn't need to train, not really. You both knew that. It was his way of escaping the thoughts that clawed at him, the memories that refused to stay buried.

And you knew why he was there tonight.

Jean.

The name alone sent a sharp pang through your heart. You weren't naive. You saw the way Logan looked at her, the way his eyes softened, his gruff demeanor shifting whenever she was around. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke louder than any confession ever could. He loved her—he loved her in a way that was primal, consuming. But Jean… Jean was with Scott.

You weren't sure where you fit into all of this. You and Logan had a connection, something raw and unspoken. But it was hard to define what that was when his heart was so clearly caught between two worlds—between you and the woman he could never truly have.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the small lamp in the corner. Logan was there, just as you knew he'd be. His back was to you, the muscles of his shoulders and arms flexing as he pounded his fists into the punching bag.

"Logan," you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't stop, didn't even acknowledge you. His focus was singular, every punch carrying the weight of his frustrations. You walked closer, each step feeling like a mile, until you were standing just a few feet behind him.

"Logan, please," you tried again, your voice trembling.

This time, he paused, his hands dropping to his sides. Slowly, he turned to face you, and your heart clenched at the sight of his face—those deep-set eyes, filled with pain and something else you couldn't quite place.

"Why are you here, kid?" he asked, his voice rough and tired.

You winced at the nickname, one he'd given you long ago when you'd first joined the X-Men. Back then, it had been endearing, a sign of the bond you were building. But now… now it felt like a reminder of the distance between you.

"I could ask you the same thing," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Logan huffed, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Needed to clear my head."

You nodded, though you both knew it was more than that. "I thought maybe… maybe you needed someone to talk to."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, you saw the walls he'd built up around himself start to crumble. But just as quickly, they were back in place, his expression hardening.

"There's nothing to talk about," he said gruffly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Logan… you don't have to pretend with me. I know you're hurting."

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he looked away. "And what do you want me to say, huh? That you're right? That I can't get her outta my head? That every time I see her with him, it feels like a goddamn knife in my chest?"

Your breath caught in your throat, the raw honesty in his words cutting through you like a blade. But it wasn't just his pain that hurt—it was the realization that you were a part of it. That maybe, just maybe, you were only a distraction, something to keep him from drowning in his feelings for Jean.

"I don't want to be your second choice," you whispered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

Logan's eyes snapped back to you, surprise flickering in their depths. "You're not—"

"Aren't I?" you interrupted, your voice trembling. "Because that's what it feels like. Every time you're with me, it's like you're trying to forget about her. But I can't—Logan, I can't be that person for you. I can't keep pretending that this doesn't hurt."

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, but you pulled away, the distance between you growing. The look of hurt that flashed across his face was almost enough to make you reconsider, but you held your ground.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "I know you are. But sorry doesn't change anything, does it?"

Logan's shoulders slumped, the weight of your words crashing down on him. "I never meant to hurt you."

"But you did," you replied, your voice breaking. "And I don't know if I can keep doing this. I can't keep being in love with you when you're in love with her."

The silence that followed was deafening, the air between you thick with unspoken words. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle he was fighting within himself. But you knew—deep down, you knew—he wasn't going to choose you. Not really.

"I don't want to lose you," he finally said, his voice raw with emotion.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself. "You already have."

The words hung in the air, a finality to them that neither of you could ignore. And as you turned to leave, you felt a part of your heart break, knowing that this was the end of whatever it was you and Logan had.

You walked out of the room, each step heavier than the last, the distance between you and Logan growing with every second. You didn't look back—you couldn't. Because if you did, you knew you'd crumble. You knew you'd run back to him, and you couldn't allow yourself to do that.

As you reached the end of the hallway, you paused, your hand resting on the wall for support. The tears you'd been holding back finally spilled over, and you let them fall, each one a release of the pain you'd been carrying for so long.

But even through the tears, you knew one thing: you deserved more than being second best. And as much as it hurt to walk away from Logan, you knew it was the only way to heal.

The only way to find yourself again.

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Part two

[galedekarios]

musing on the rooms of the companions

i didn't want to put it in my main post since none of it is confirmed, but here's my take on it:

emmrich's room:

the statue echoes the one of the grand necropolis

the incense burners & lamps mirror the one he had in the trailer

the myriad of skulls in the shelves at the back

the many vials and potion bottles that he's also pictured with in his concept art

2. neve's room

the teal pops of colour just like in her outfits

the very tevinter style of architecture + aesthetic

tevinter heraldry (dragon) on decor / lamps

the huge crime investigation cork board behind the desk complete with several pieces of thread connecting maps and clues and sketches of people

prosthetic leg at the left hand side near the sideboard

3. davrin's room

grey warden crest

dark spawn statue

a plethora of swords and shields

4. bellara's room

same head of a statue as in her concept art

magical / elvhen artefacts + spheres

colour scheme choes her outfit

lots of triangles hanging from the ceiling, which have been part of her design nearly everywhere from her earrings to her armour

appears to have one of the halla statues you can collect at the winter palace in inquisition

5. taash's room

lots of dragon trophies / statues / paraphernalia from horns to sketches to wooden statues, v fitting for a dragon hunter

what surprises me is the amount of nug statues

lots of scrolls, maybe contracts or tallies/debts

6. harding's room

harding was described as a "romantic" and as someone who "loves nature"

rooms reflects that with lots of plants, a open water pool, lots of warm and natural light

has an outdoors feel to it, fitting for a former scout

which leaves...

7. lucanis's "room"

i assume it's a pantry? or a storeroom for food?

there doesn't seem to be anything personal here at all, which is perhaps fitting for someone who is both described as an assassin and as a workaholic, but it still surprised me to see just how barren his living space is, with no trace of himself seemingly, apart from a nondescript cot set up in the back

[pixeldoodles]

MORE TPOT 14 SPOILERS!!!!

Discussing lore stuff I noticed in the background

So in this scene, notice the papers on the fridge. But guess what? There’s symbolism here!

Let’s start with Four. His paper is the least interesting, it’s just him. The magnet holding the paper up is a diamond shape. I can’t remember if there’s any connection between Four and diamonds, all I can think of is that diamonds have 4 sides.

Next up, One! Of course, near the end of the episode, it’s shown that she can see through the paper, but that’s not the only thing worth noting. The magnet holding the paper is in the shape of a moon.

A really interesting thing about One is the amount of space, stars, & moon imagery that’s shown with her. I mean, she quite literally broke OUT of the moon. It’s an interesting story choice that I’m excited to see more of.

And finally, the Two & Three papers! Oh boy, now THIS is interesting.

Two’s magnet is a green… thing? Whatever shape it is, it shares a STRIKING resemblance to how Two’s power is shown throughout the show.

Notice the similar shapes & colors.

But what’s really interesting is Three. Three is SCRIBBLED OUT ENTIRELY. But why? Well, I have two theories, but this post is long enough so I’ll reblog and make a part two. Check the reblogs under this post for that when that happens!

Edit: Part 2 is out now!

Not only this, but Three is dangerously close to Two, compared to the other papers. Maybe these 2 are more intertwined than we thought?

Also Three’s magnet is a triangle. There’s probably no lore reason behind that, it’s probably just because triangles have 3 sides.

Welp, that’s pretty much it! Again, I’ll post a part 2 about Three soon. Thx for reading!

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs

part 3: toenze

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1.5k

content warnings! swearing

author's note! i'm sick and not doing ok but jay and toenze always is on the brain </3

previous | masterlist | next

The last thing you expected to see today was Jay with an electric guitar. But here you were, standing in the Sanctuary Café in front of their live music stage, where Kai’s band was setting up. And he was a part of the band.

You had stumbled inside the coffee shop late, and the guys were already half-way through setting up. Not a single thing had been out of the ordinary when you came in. It was your boyfriend and his three other band members, each getting ready for practice. You greeted them with a smile and side-hug each, and it seemed like it would go the same way any other practice had gone before. 

But then someone new entered the shop. Dressed in a grey hoodie and flannel, your eyes widened at the sight of Jay. He held a guitar case in his right hand, and you thought, okay, maybe this is just a stupid coincidence, but then he noticed you, and he started walking toward you. So you thought maybe it was because of you.

And then Taerae spoke up, “Jay, hey! I’m so glad you could make it.”

You glanced at Kai, whose expression was just as puzzled as yours. He had no idea as well.

“Yeah. Thanks for inviting me.” Jay’s lopsided grin made your heart skip a beat, and you had to take a step back when he was close to the stage. “You guys were looking for a second guitarist?”

“We were?” Kai asked, giving Taerae a pointed look. The boy shrugged with a smile, unaware of the happenings between Kai, Jay and you.

“Yeah, I met Jay at a guitar shop, and heard him play. He’s actually really good, so I thought I’d ask him to come by. Honestly, I’d like to focus on vocals sometimes, so a second guitarist would be useful.” Taerae shrugged, giving his painfully sensible reasoning that nobody could refute without sounding like a petulant child. 

“I mean, I have nothing against it if he’s as good as Taerae says he is,” said Beomgyu, eyeing Jay. “But the girls are mine,” he joked, although his glare felt a bit too realistic.

“Yeah, I don’t mind either. We could use another visual, too,” Yujin reasoned. 

“Kai? It’s already three to four.” Taerae looked at the drummer, and he sighed in response. 

“Can we actually hear Jay play before we make any concrete decisions? Because right now, it’s all just opinions.”

Yes, that made sense to do. You nodded despite having nothing to do with the band and its decisions. But you knew that Jay truly was a genius when it came to playing the guitar. You’ve heard him play more times than you could count, and occasionally, those performances were specifically for you over video call or in person. You always loved listening to Jay’s playing and singing. 

When Kai glanced at you, he understood as much from your expression, and a small frown decorated his lips. He shouldn’t be jealous, he was the one dating you, yet the knowledge of everything that transpired between you and Jay, and your feelings for him made him scared for what could happen if Jay got his head out of the gutter and realised that maybe, he was also in love with you. 

“Okay. I can play a song I’ve been working on with Heeseung,” Jay said, getting his guitar out — it was Jane. With Taerae’s help, the two quickly set it up and connected it to the speakers.

When Jay started playing, you immediately recognised the song. It wasn’t finished as far as you were aware, but Jay and Heeseung had been working on it for quite a while. The song, Paranormal, meant a lot to Heeseung especially, so he wanted to make sure every single detail about it was perfect.

To you, it sounded amazing already, but considering Heeseung’s perfectionism, he probably always thought of something that wasn’t quite right yet. 

When Jay was done, everyone around him started clapping. Including you. There was no denying his talents, and Taerae was especially proud of being the person who brought him here.

“So, you write your own songs too?” he asked. 

“I’m still struggling with writing decent lyrics, but other than that, yeah.” Jay nodded, glancing at you. There were times you helped him write a few lines here and there, so you averted your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek. 

To be completely honest, what you and Jay had, to you, did not feel or seem casual in the slightest. Even Kai thought you two were actually dating at first. But that was the kind of person Jay was. Sweet, caring and affectionate without thinking much into it — he didn’t do it on purpose, it was just what he was used to. Small acts of kindness or even bigger ones, to him, were something he did because it was the normal thing to do. So what he perceived as casual was seen as so much more to anyone looking from the outside. Or to the one on the receiving end of it all. But you understood Jay better than anyone, unfortunately. So you couldn’t even delude yourself into thinking that confessing would lead to something. 

Letting go was the much better option. 

You were grateful for Kai. For being your anchor and for giving you the strength you needed to tear yourself away from Jay. 

“Then it’s decided, right?” Taerae looked at his band members, a proud smile gracing his lips. 

Beomgyu and Yujin agreed with eager nods, but Kai sighed. Glancing at you, he noticed you were already watching him, your smile supportive of whichever decision he made. 

And, to nudge him along, you said: “He is really good.”

“Ugh, fine,” Kai mumbled. “Would be a waste not to let him join if that’s what he wants.” Shaking his head, Kai’s attention was more on you than Jay.

“Welcome to the band!” Beomgyu exclaimed, instantly going in for a handshake with Jay. “I look forward to working with you.” The bassist faked a serious tone. “But seriously, though, the girls are mine.”

“Literally no girls want your loser ass,” said Yujin, rolling his eyes.

“You little—” Beomgyu put down his bass just to chase after Yujin who started giggling, running around the café in an attempt to escape.

Taerae and Kai laughed, shaking their heads. You, on the other hand, bit your lip and headed toward Jay while steeling yourself from whatever the conversation might lead to. 

“So, you want to join Kai’s band all of a sudden?” You raised your brow, and Jay looked almost puzzled that you spoke to him. Though he recovered quickly, nodding.

“Yeah, sure. Why not, you know? Taerae asked, and I didn’t feel like saying no.”

You hummed, a little in disbelief over the whole situation. You doubted Jay didn’t have any ulterior motives for joining the band, but you didn’t feel like bringing it up now since the likelihood of Jay actually telling you was little to none.

“It’ll definitely make it easier to find someone else then, since girls do love guitarists,” you commented with a light chuckle.

Jay smacked his lips together, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m really looking for any casual hookups anymore,” he said, which took you by surprise this time. “I’ve been wasting too much of my time not committing to anything. So it’s time for a bit of a change.”

“For joining a band?”

“For committing myself to something I love,” said Jay, a smile gracing his lips as he stared at you. There was a spark in his eye as if he could sense the way your heart skipped a beat, but then he chuckled. “I want to focus more on music, and Taerae’s offer was kinda perfectly timed.”

“Right, of course. That makes a lot of sense,” you agreed, nodding dumbly along.

“Why? Did you think I did this because of you?” Jay’s tone was teasing. He tilted his head and raised a brow at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into the signature lopsided grin of his that revealed his dimple. 

Your brain stuttered as you stared at him, blinking excessively. “No. No— obviously, not. Why would I think that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you know that I missed you? You said we’d be friends but then you’ve barely spoken to me,” Jay explained himself, pursing his lips. “So, you could be thinking that.”

“I was not thinking that.” You furrowed your brows. “But you should’ve told me. I thought that since you’ve barely texted me that you don’t want to hang out as much anymore.”

“That’s not it, I just— I don’t know…”

“You can always talk to me about anything, Jay. That’s what friends are for,” you said, smiling thinly. “I’m glad you finally decided to pursue music, though.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jay said. 

“Okay, guys, stop messing around. Let’s begin practice!” Taerae exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Jay, can you follow my lead?”

tags: @moonpri @addictedtohobi @samsayssam @sillydallyz @semisemirin1i82

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DP x DC prompt. ~“Unstable connection”~ Dead on main.

Part 13. Hungry Ghost Festival 2

or Unplanned Criminal Lord’s Vacation with uncle John.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Part 8. Part 9. New: Part 9.1. Part 9.2. Part 9.3.

Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Meme break №1. Part 13.

~~~~

Jason looked at the phone screen and didn’t believe Danny has really decided to entrust his safety in the haunted lair to one drunk and unrequited Phantom.

He had enough. Jason jumped up and grabbed his helmet off the table.

‘Where do you think you’re going? Patrol’s coming soon.’ Tim took his eyes off the documents.

‘None of your business.’ Red Hood quickly found keys to a jet and ran for an exit. ‘Cass, while I’m gone, you’re in charge of the alley.’

~~~~

Demons, spirits, and ghosts swung around as if in a dance. And Danny, whom Jason easily spotted entering The Gambler’s Den, did not seem foreign at this festival of death. The red light gently illuminated his pale skin, which almost fused with color of his white kimono. The flowing fabric made his silhouette as blurry and elusive as most visitors.

One second without looking at the boy, and he was in the opposite corner, where the crowd were much smaller. VIP zone? Otherworldly creatures, deserving special treatment, were rarely friendly to humans. And Jason was tense about it for a moment. But after noticing waving with enthusiasm teenager, a man in white clothes rushed to respond to the gesture and a ghost with an eye patch sitting in the chair nodded to him, ringing with silver earrings.

Jason let his guard down a bit.

Another man in the black robe was not distracted by Danny. He threw the bones and glanced at them in disappointment. Then ghoul banged the table with fist. He rose, grabbed from a nearby bowl a mantou and bit. The next second his face was distorted by awareness and disgust.

He abruptly removed the triangle-shaped headband from Danny’s head and spat out a bite into it. Then ghoul fell to a floor. Well, nice carpets have softened it.

Jason shook his head, trying not to laugh at the strange situation.

At the same time, Danny boldly stepped over the fallen player and sat in a chair in front of the ghost in black and red clothes. The man began to demonstrate a technique of throwing bones, with continuous ringing after moving of his hands. Danny seemed passionate about this.

Constantine, who did not come with the Red Hood voluntarily, decides for the first time in the evening to speak out.

‘That’s weird.’ Constantine said with an intonation that spoke of his distrust of the situation.

‘What is it now?’ Jason took his eyes off the object of interest.

Fenton must be watched for his safety. Why did the warlock distract him? Jason completely distrusted Danny’s promise not to use his body parts as a bet.

‘His clothes.’ Constantine looked at the boy with discomfort. ‘Boy, are you sure your lover is alive?’

‘Don’t be rude. He looks great,’ said Jason ‘Maybe Danny wanted to dress up in a traditional costume.  And it's not polite to ask people if they are alive. He’s always pale in all the photos. ’

 Jason didn’t think costume selection was such a big deal.

‘No.’ Warlock shook his head ‘Kimono is Japanese national costume, not Chinese at all. And it’s on the left side which means your boyf..’ 

Unfamiliar to Jason spirit came up and patted Danny on the shoulder. The spirit and the boy bowed to each other.

‘I see.’ The puzzled expression on the warlock’s face is gone. ‘Your lover has interesting friends, Hood.’

 ‘Who is this guy? Explanation. Now.’ Jason barked irritably. Why did he always have to pull every word out of John?

‘Nurarihyon. Don’t be so nervous, he’s not dangerous to people. I just realized your boy here after a walk with Hyakki Yakko. Which explains the clothes.’ Сonstantine exhaled cigarette smoke and continued. ‘Your love doesn’t waste any time. In one evening, he met three ghost kings.’

‘Hyakki Yakko?’ Jason asked a lot calmer.

‘The night parade of one hundred demons when all of the yōkai, oni, ghosts parade through the streets.’ John shrugged his shoulders and shook the ashes off the cigarette into the nearest ashtray. It was also red and black. Warlock winced. ‘But your boyfriend feels like a fish in the water. Whoever his protector is, he is respected enough here. Let the guy have a drink and have some fun, he’ll be fine.’

‘God. Danny’s like a sheep in wolf’s clothing’ Jason sighed anxiously. ‘His parents are ghost hunters but he’s here as a plus one for Phantom, a ghost from Amity Park.’

‘More like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’ Constantine muttered to himself. But when he saw a silver butterfly nearby, he decided that revealing other people’s secrets was not his problem. ‘I know who the Phantom is. Everyone has heard about Pariah Dark.’

Jason has not heard about him, but decided to keep quiet so as not to make a fool of himself. He will ask Danny about it.

Constantine took a brandy from the bartender. Then he took a big sip and looked at Jason. ‘You know, I always thought Little Red Riding Hood was incredibly stupid to let a wolf eat herself.’

‘What’s this about, Constantine?’ Hood rolled his eyes under the helmet.

And immediately he was glad that John did not see it. In the end, he helped him a lot not to scare Danny. Without the old man’s comments, he could have easily carried the boy away from the local ghosts on his shoulder like a caveman.

Jay didn’t want to spoil a first impression of a face-to-face meeting because of a kidnapping. Although, looking at how comfortable Fenton was among the nonhuman creatures, Jason doubted that Danny would have been screaming and panicking. But he wouldn’t be happy about being distracted from the fun. Hood shook his head in disappointment.

‘Nothing important.’ John brushed the silver butterfly off his shoulder. ‘You know, I’m in debt to the owner, so..If you don’t need my favors anymore, I’m leaving.’

‘Wait. Help me find Phantom.’ Сrime lord stopped him. ‘I need to make sure he doesn’t leave Danny here alone.’

John turned and looked at him as if he were terminally ill. ‘Phantom is in this room now. Only an idiot would have missed him.’ John spoke slowly and clearly, raising one eyebrow. ‘A conference of four kings. No joke. Stop poking around and messing up international relations, kid.’

Jason looked around the room again. ‘I don’t see him.’

‘Because you’re an idiot, kid’ John patted Jay on the shoulder and left. ‘Good luck explaining to Batman why you stole his jet.’

‘Heck.’

[theemporium]

a dirty flirtini with mat barzal and “i like my bed, but i’d rather be in yours” 🥹 if you have time thank you ily bye

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

26. “I like my bed, but I’d rather be in yours.” 

.

Your relationship with Mat Barzal could be described as a long-winded, pining game of chicken.

It was a complicated relationship, one that many of your peers never seemed to understand. You knew you liked Mat, and you knew those feelings were reciprocated. But you also knew you cherished the boy beyond words could explain and you didn’t think you had the heart to try a relationship and ruin whatever bond you had. 

So instead, you were left in this weird limbo where you both constantly toed the line of friends to something more, seeing who would back out first. 

And it tended to get very close when you both were drunk. 

“Best pick up line. Loser buys the winner a drink. You in?” 

You turned on your barstool so you were facing him a little better. Your knees knocked together, thighs almost pressed against one another as you slid one of your legs between his to keep you in some weird, twisted embrace by the bar. 

The rest of the team were somewhere in the bar. You had been in your apartment—conveniently a five minute walk from the bar, hence why it was one of Mat’s favourite to suggest—when he had messaged you to come out and join then. Half an hour later, you were here and a few drinks in and that line between you and Mat was looking more and more tempting. 

“Hm,” you hummed, narrowing your eyes at the boy slightly. “How do we know who won?” 

“When the other is too flustered to reply,” Mat replied confidently. 

You shot the boy a grin. “You’re on, Barzal. Hit me with what you’ve got.” 

“Are you WiFi?” Mat began, pointing a finger between the two of you. “Because I’m feeling a connection.” 

You snorted. “That was horrible!” 

“I’m breaking the ice!” Mat defended, but he was laughing as well. “C’mon, your turn!” 

You tried to bite back your smile, to stay serious but it was difficult. “If you were a triangle, you’d be an acute one.” 

Mat let out a boisterous laugh, throwing his head back as he did. “And you said mine was bad!” 

“I never said mine were any better,” you shot back, knocking your knee against his to remind him it was his turn. 

“Alright, alright,” he let out a breathless laugh before turning his attention back to you. He leaned a little closer, and your heart jumped at the movement. “I’ve been learning important dates in history. You wanna be one of them?” 

You raised your brows but you didn’t pull away. Instead you moved closer, placing your hand on his arm and feeling him tense slightly. “Your lips look lonely, do they wanna meet mine?”

His lips twitched, a pink tint to his cheeks but he continued. “Only if I can borrow a kiss. Promise I’ll give it back.” 

“Hm, maybe,” you mused, your fingers tracing random shapes along his arm. You could feel goosebumps break out under your touch, could feel the way his eyes were staring at the side of your face before you turned back to look at him. “I like my bed, but I’d rather be in yours.” 

Mat blinked. And he blinked again. And then, he watched as your lips slowly wrapped around the straw of your drink before you took a long sip. He knew he lost the challenge, but it was hard to scramble around for a pickup line when his mind was full of other thoughts that included you and his bed. 

“I win!” You grinned at the boy, nudging his knee to knock him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat, cheeks burning and heart racing. “Put your drink on my tab.”

Your smile widened. “I’ve been doing it all night anyways.”

And Mat couldn’t help himself but cackle, head thrown back and the strongest urge to stay in that moment forever.

.

[crimsonmoonlight88]

Noa's Potential Love Triangle

"You like her--Soona."

"We were born within a sunset."

Okay listen, I never thought I'd be here considering a potential love triangle in this series, but here we are.

Now, I won't even touch on the interesting choice of having Mae of all characters ask this, but there are so many answers Noa could have given that ultimately tell the audience "yes, I like her."

Yes. Of course. I do. Sure. Maybe. Why wouldn't I? What, no! *looks nervous*

(I could go on all day.)

But no, he only says, very matter of factly, "we were born within a sunset."

So with that baffling response, I thought about it some more, and two things came to mind for what he might have meant:

They were born close together, like family, indicating his feelings are familial. (This jives with the actual vibe between them in the movie, imo.)

It doesn't really matter. They were born within a sunset and that (possibly) has some cultural meaning for their clan, like a sign they were meant to be together. Therefore, a relationship would be expected of them, no matter how they feel.

Now it could be one or both of these scenarios, but with the second I can see that playing into Noa's upcoming hero journey of becoming who he was meant to be. Interestingly, in this trailer we get:

Owen: Noa has to make a choice Proximus: Do you choose a human, over an ape? Owen: And only one will prevail. Proximus: Together, you will die. Noa: No, together--strong. *cues scene of Noa reaching for Mae on horseback and saving her*

From that trailer alone, you get a sense of what his choice will be. But in the movie itself, when Proximus lays this out for Noa, he does not choose. (Yet)

"Do you choose a human over an ape? Your sweet, little Soona or that stinking human?"

I think that's intentional for now, as I think the love triangle is potentially a catalyst for Noa, and Mae and Soona in particular, are meant to represent two different paths (and endings) for him. With this concept in mind, it could mean:

Choosing Soona means following the path that is expected of him, the one laid out since birth, the one he would have gone down had Mae not come into his life. Following the rules, following tradition, upholding his clan's legacy, and choosing for the world to stay as it is with apes dominating humans. (Apes, together, strong)

Choosing Mae means following the path that defies expectations, the new one that was forged because Mae came into his life. Questioning the rules, embracing change over tradition, upholding Caesar's legacy, and choosing for the world to evolve with human/ape coexistence. (Together, strong)

So Noa's answer of "we were born within a sunset" is not a yes or a no, just as Mae's response to "can ape and human live together" is not a yes or a no, because these characters have not chosen this "together strong" path yet. They are questioning everything they've ever known, are changed by this connection to each other, but they're still following their "expected path" at the moment.

Now I might be wildly off base with this theory of course, and I acknowledge that Noa could definitely become who he needs to be with Soona by his side--but I'm looking at this from the two path/two love interest narrative, along with many other factors. But I'll just finish with these quotes from Wes Ball.

"Her [Mae] whole journey is changed by meeting Noa, just as much as his journey has been changed by meeting her."

"These characters [Noa and Mae] have now saved each other, and they have a complicated connection. There is now a history and real feelings between the two, and that’s going to be important moving forward."

"Can apes and humans live together? Can we coexist? So that will be a continued theme throughout future movies, and if there’s any chance for peace between these species, it will probably be between these two characters."

"There's literally a door that opens at the end to hopefully many more possibilities. And the relationship between Mae and Noa and how they've changed each other, you know, is going to be crucial moving forward as they navigate the future together."

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin: Chapter 9

Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they are until it's too late.

This Chapter: Klaus pleads his case as you wrestle with guilt, while Elijah attempts to ease your mind the old fashioned way.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, Love Triangle, Infidelity, Klaus Pinning You Against the Wall, Shoving, Neck Kissing, Licking, Elijah Undressing You, Kissing, Massage, Nipple Play, Vaginal Fingering, Lying, Manipulation, Compulsion, Blood, Sweat, Tears, ANGST

Word Count: 3.2k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

His brother? Elijah? Did you really just hear him correctly? No. No, that can’t possibly be true. They look nothing alike! And can vampires even BE brothers, especially if Klaus is over a thousand years old, like he said? Maybe it’s just some weird figure of speech and not an actual term. Or maybe it’s just part of the vampire lore that only the elder insiders know about? You can’t…no… this can’t be happening! Either way, you can’t deny that you’re in deep trouble here. It’s only a matter of time before you get found out, and you can’t imagine that either of them will take it very well.

Time to put that guard up.

“Well, half brother, if you want to get into the specifics, but that’s a story for another time, love.” Klaus’ blonde lashes flutter across your cheek as he kisses the skin of your chin and jawline while you tremble with guilt. He doesn’t seem to be worried about the idea of Elijah right now, so you welcome his continued seduction with a sigh of relief as it helps throw him off the scent. You force a smile as he slowly releases the vice-like grip he has on your wrists only to ghost his hands down your forearms, forcing you to shiver.

“Oh, really?” you whisper as your bloodstream plays host to an increased supply of oxytocin, chemically connecting your body to his no matter how badly your brain wants them to separate. “So do you have, like a whole family of vampire siblings living under one roof?” You jest, only to be met by his thumbs playfully digging into your axilla before squeezing their way down your sides.

“Maybe I do, but it looks like we both have surprise siblings that neither of us knew about until today. It really begs the question though, are there any other secrets that you’re hiding from me, hmm? A husband, a wife, a child?” His mouth moves down to your neck as you shake your head in response, licking the path of your pulse as it continues to throb against his tongue.

“Klaus,” you groan, trying to focus solely on the mental image of your brother instead of Elijah rocking his hips into you, those gorgeously lust-blown eyes of his nearly blacking out completely. That’s something you could never forget, but you shove it into the back of your mind for the time being, anyways. “Klaus, we can’t do this, I’m at work!”

“Oh don’t worry, love. I’ve compelled everyone on this floor to forget that I came here tonight, to forget that you ever left your post.” He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye with a reassuring wink.

“Compelled?” You push your palm against his chest to put some distance between you, secretly hating yourself for cutting off that rush of hormones that set your skin on fire. “What do you mean, compelled?” You need more of an explanation than just the context clues he’s barely giving you.

“Well, if you must know, it’s one of the many gifts that comes with immortality; a sure fire way to get others to do what we want, to cover our tracks.” His hands rest gently against your hips, his thumbs rubbing the skin beneath your scrubs as he explains himself.

“Like mind control?” You had dated some seriously manipulative men in your day, but this really takes the cake. If he can really do that, can they all do it? Can Elijah?

“Think of it more as… the power of persuasion. I could compel your boss to give you a raise right now, Marjorie to give back your favorite pen that she stole, or your patients to stay in bed. But instead I chose to compel every last one of my men to protect you, to keep you safe from any harm that may come your way. You won’t have to worry about any more attacks in the quarter, love, you or your brother.”

Damn. Well, that’s a relief, you guess.

“Wait, have you ever compelled me before?” Your logic finally kicks back in, trying it’s best not to get led astray by his silver tongue and good looks, which isn’t as easy as it sounds.

He pauses and takes a breath, smirking while he chooses his next words very carefully. “The thing I love most about you is that I’ve never felt the need to compel you before.” He weaves his web of words with such eloquent precision, it’s almost impossible to tell if there’s any bit of truth in them. “I’ve compelled people in the past to lie, cheat and steal for me, even to kill for me if the occasion calls for it, but in the end it’s just not as fun as earning their loyalty the old fashioned way.

“Compelling you to act any differently, to be anybody else would just be too boring, and you’re anything but boring, love. You find death just as beautiful and vibrant as I do. It’s apparent in your art and your choice to work here as your patients tiptoe that flimsy tightrope between life and death. You get off on the power you hold over it, the power you have to stop it, to prolong it. In the end, you and I aren’t that different after all.” He strokes your hair affectionately, looking longingly into your eyes as he waits for you to respond.

“You think so?” You reply dumbly as if you’re blown away by his words, trying to really sell the idea of being on board with his ethics of compelling people against their will.

“I left you a note at the nurse’s station next to a cup of chicory coffee from your favorite cafe. Meet me at that address tomorrow night, then we can really begin to flesh out our epic masterpiece… but only if you want to.”

————————

Klaus’ words haunt you well into your much needed shower after work as you try to wash his scent out of your hair and off of your skin. You scrub the wash cloth over your body more times than you care to admit, letting the soap lather up to a ridiculous level before rinsing off in the steaming stream of water. Once you finally reach the level of cleanliness that you desire, you step out of the shower and dry your hair, switching the towel around before wrapping it around your body.

You rotate your scrubs over from the washer to the dryer, making sure to eradicate any of Klaus’ scent from them as well, hoping that Elijah won’t catch on to your surprise visitor at work. You’re sure that he would take the news better than Klaus would, but there’s no telling how merciful a ruthless vampire like him could react when he’s betrayed, no matter how refined he seems so far.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Elijah’s voice is just above a whisper as he enters your apartment through the balcony, your purple curtains surrounding him in the breeze of dawn, staging him to look like your beloved phantom. His suit is littered with streaks of crimson, the truth about his nature staring you right in the face as he slowly takes a step toward you with an outstretched hand.

Perfect timing, as always.

“I just had a really rough day at work.” You mutter, letting your hand instinctively slip inside his fingers as he draws you near. You aren’t necessarily lying to him, but you can’t bear to tell him the whole truth yet either. “That’s all.”

Had he been with Klaus earlier tonight? Had they killed someone together? Compelled them to stay calm, not to scream or run away before they drank their blood until there was nothing left? Had they done it so many times in their endless lives together that they don’t even register it as something bad anymore? How could someone so calm and considerate like Elijah be related to someone so fiercely aggressive as Klaus? Even worse, how could someone like you who claims to be such a good person be attracted to both of them despite it all?

The reality of your situation slowly begins to set in now that you’re free of Klaus’ pheromones, the brutal truth of what you have to do now more obvious than ever. You have to leave. It’s the only logical course of action. If you stay and choose Klaus, you’ll have to deal with seeing Elijah every day, and you’ll be heartbroken as you keep that secret between you… if he’s even kind enough to keep it. If you stay and choose Elijah, you can only imagine what maniacally violent punishment Klaus might dole out to you in retaliation… and to his brother. And if you stay and choose neither of them, well… the odds just aren’t really in your favor, are they?

Damn your libido!

“Are you alright?” Elijah asks softly, placing a single chaste kiss on the nape of your neck as his other hand holds onto your waist, calming your nerves somehow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I umm…” You try to disguise the weight of your dilemma as best you can, all while telling him something along the lines of the truth. “This patient of mine, she doesn’t know how much time she has left. She thought it was just a simple stomach ache, maybe a food allergy or a survivable chronic illness like Crohn’s, but now they’re testing her for something more serious, for something fatal.”

“I’m so sorry.” His free hand undoes the loose knot of your towel, setting your naked body free as he sends the terry cloth falling silently to the floor. “She must be terrified.”

“She is,” you admit, relishing in the comfort of his touch as he navigates his palms over your breasts and belly as if they’re precious jewels to be treasured. “But the choices she’s made up until now can’t be taken back, can’t be erased no matter how hard she wishes they could be.”

Elijah’s lips part as he takes you in, his features softening before shrugging out of his jacket and tie. “Even those of us who live forever wish we could turn back time, that we could take back certain decisions.” He sets his clothes on the back of a chair and unbuttons his collar. “Your job has to be filled with people who are shrouded in regret.”

“It is.” You help him unbutton the rest of his shirt, recognizing that this may be the very last time he holds you in his arms before the truth comes out, before it’s all over. That bittersweet realization fills your eyes with tears that aren’t quite heavy enough to fall onto your cheeks as you look down at his navel before pulling his perfectly pressed shirt off his torso.

Good God, you’re going to miss this. You’re going to miss him.

Elijah takes your hand as his shirt falls to the floor next to your towel and guides you over to the couch, setting you in between his legs with his chest against your back. “And what are your patient’s options? What can she do?” He kisses his questions between your shoulder blades as his fingers massage your aching muscles, releasing the tension in your body the way that only he can. You swear that one of his immortal gifts is the strength in his magical fingers, and you can already imagine how many tears you’ll cry the next few nights in your bed without them. But for now, you’ve got to put on a brave face.

“She could make a drastic life change that might give her a sliver of a chance at survival.” You blink your tears into your lashes before closing your eyes as he continues to knead his thumbs against your skin, replacing your sorrow with a deep somatic pleasure. “But she wonders if it’s too late, if she’s in too deep to even make any kind of a difference.”

“That sounds very bleak, little Lotte.” He rubs his hands over your shoulders and up the back of your neck, collecting your hair at the top of your head to better massage your scalp as you languidly drop your chin to your chest. He grins as your rapid breathing eventually slows to a cool, measured rhythm with each pass of his fingers, the pressure slowly increasing before his hands finally venture down toward the peaks and valleys of your chest.

“I know, I feel terrible.” You mumble as he pinches your nipples, twisting them hard enough for your muscles to tighten back up, ruining all the work that he’d just done to get you relaxed. You lean back against him with a needy moan, your head resting on his shoulder as you feel his heart beating faster, his own arousal grows against the expensive fabric of his pants.

“Why don’t you let me take your mind off of it for a while?” His hand travels down your stomach as he whispers into your ear, sending tingling waves of warmth up your spine as it wastes no time in settling in between your thighs. He kisses your lips with a smile as he feels your body writhe against his, urging him to continue as his fingers take the hint and eagerly glide in between your dripping wet folds, building those waves even taller than before.

“Mmm hmm,” you moan your stuttered approval, suspending your fear for one more night as you practically fall limp in his arms. “I think I’ll let you do that.”

————————

You wake the next morning without him next to you, without his arms to wrap around you with a sleepy groan that you’ve almost gotten used to, without his chin nuzzling into the nape of your neck, pleading for five more minutes in bed with you. Those five minutes almost always turned into ten more of him thrusting inside you, working each and every muscle awake the old fashioned way as sweat dripped down his chest and melted between your thighs and his hips. But not today.

Today starts with you reluctantly opening your eyes, reaching over to the empty spot on your bed that he’d recently filled as his smoky scent lingers on your sheets and pillowcase. You inhale his aroma one last time before forcing yourself upright, greeted at least by a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen and a note next to it saying that he has business to tend to today. You pick it up and sigh with a sad smile, wishing you were awake enough to watch him walk out your door one last time, but decide that it’s all for the best, and get dressed for the day with a heavy heart.

After waiting a few painstaking hours in a cafe down the street for your phone to finally get fixed, you decide to drop by your brother’s place to see how he’s doing, holding your breath in anticipation as you wait for him to open the door after you knock three times.

“Hey loser, what’s up?” Austin seems rather surprised to see you, his expression more tired and worn than usual.

“Oh, thank God!” You wrap your arms around your brother as if your memory of being concerned for his life suddenly returns just by seeing his face. That’s funny, you don’t remember being worried about what happened to him after the night of the attack, but that doesn’t really make any sense, now does it? “I’m so glad you’re okay! I didn’t know what happened to you after…”

“Of course I’m okay, and what are you talking about?” He looks you up and down like you’ve lost your mind, like you have lobsters crawling out of your ears. “And you usually call first before you come over, are you sure everything’s alright?”

“No!” You pause, studying his features to see if he’s attempting to play some kind of prank on you or something. How could he not remember? “My phone got shattered the other night, remember? I just got it fixed.” You barge into his apartment like you own the place, shocked that he even has to ask you about it. Was he feeling alright? Were you?

He continues to stare at you as you wander aimlessly around his living area, completely bewildered.

“You mean to tell me that yours is fine? That your phone survived the attack without even a crack, a dent, nothing?! They roughed both of us up pretty bad that night, I can’t believe you don’t even have a scratch on you.”

“Doing what? And you should talk, you don’t have any marks on you, either, sis.” He seems genuinely confused as he hurriedly shuts the door behind you and locks it behind you. “Look, is everything alright? Did you hit your head or something? Are you talking about the night that we had dinner together? When you ran into your buddy Elijah and I had to walk the rest of the way home by myself?”

“Yes!” You nod, folding your arms across your chest. Now you’re getting somewhere.

He rolls his eyes. “You were supposed to be my designated walker that night, by the way.” He walks over to the couch and plops down with a loud, disappointed sigh, a sound you know all too well. “Thanks for nothing, I guess. I hope you at least got laid, or some free drinks. That guy reeks of money.”

Holy shit, Elijah compelled him to forget everything about the attack that night. It really does work. Fuck, you’re in trouble!

You sit down on the couch next to your brother, looking him deep in the eye. “You really don’t remember anything else about that night, do you?”

“No.” He sits up straight and looks at you solemnly, placing a steady hand on your shoulder. “Sis, what the fuck is going on? You’re scaring me.”

You consider telling him the truth about everything you’ve been through these past few weeks, about Elijah and Klaus, about vampires and witches, but all the sudden you see the benefit of compulsion. You see that wiping someone’s memory of an event or a person isn’t always necessarily a bad thing. It can keep your brother safe and in the dark while the creatures of the night lurk around the corners of the city feasting on the innocent while he remains none the wiser. Maybe it’s better if you leave him like this, to continue on believing only in the things that he can explain with laws and logic.

“Maybe it was just a bad dream.” You whisper softly, looking down at your feet before glancing back up at him. “Sometimes they just seem so real, you know?” You bite your lower lip as a mixture of guilt and futility washes over you, almost triggering those tears to come back with a vengeance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” You take a deep breath and ruffle his hair before standing up from the couch, realizing that you’re on your own with this from here on out. It’s probably better to keep him out of the mess you’ve created for yourself. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Alright, but… don’t be a stranger, okay? And if you need anything, anything real, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I promise.” You hug him before seeing yourself out, walking down the street toward the bus station before everything goes black.

--------------

Tags: @hcqwxrtss123 @hayleym1234 @derangedangel @spnaquakindgdom @natalie668 @arbesa-mind

[sommerregenjuniluft]

evan and regulus frolicking like they're frotting in bed making out sloppy style about to fuck to the sounds of their boyfriends fighting outside

jfkdkfkdkf STOOPPP (this escalated, NSFW)

Regulus comes back into the living room, mug of steaming tea in hand and he rolls his eyes as soon as he, too, hears James and Barty where they're still out on the balcony arguing, cigarettes long stubbed out in the ashtray.

Evan grins, lifting the blanket as Regulus lets himself plop down and snuggles into his side.

“What’s it about this time?”

Evan snorts, nuzzling the black curls behind Regulus’ ear, “You think I know?”

Regulus shakes his head, like a disappointed old grandpa and Evan’s grin widens.

Outside, Barty makes an incredulous noise, half rising from his chair before he sits back down, trying to talk over James’ continuous arguing.

Regulus makes a soft groan in irritation, tipping his head back against Evan's shoulder. There’s a triangle of moles right under the hinge of his sharp jaw, teasing Evan to put his mouth to good use.

“It’s never nothing with the two of them,” Evan murmurs, warm breath ricocheting off Regulus’ skin and back at him.

It makes Regulus tilt his head back down, eyes narrowing and searching for something in Evan’s expression. He hums a little, sinking lower into the cushions and Evan’s embrace.

“Think we should keep ourselves busy, don’t you?” Evan says, catching Regulus’ eyes skipping down to his lips, “Who knows how long they'll be at it this time.”

Regulus doesn’t say anything but he tips his chin up and he lets Evan hook one of his legs over his lap without fuss. Evan watches the line of his throat move when he swallows, “You smell like lemons.”

“And limes,” Evan corrects with a grin. “You're off your game, whiskers. Something distracting you?”

Regulus’ slack expression slips into a glower and Evan chuckles, bumping their noses together. “I spooned some of Barty’s protein yogurt after dinner when he wasn’t looking, too busy nagging at James while they were doing the dishes.”

Regulus snakes a hand under Evan’s t-shirt, caressing the skin, “’s it taste anything good?"

The tiny devil on Evan’s shoulder does a little happy spin, “Why doesn’t the chef try for himself?”

Evan happily swallows the little pant betraying Regulus’ indifference before their lips connect.

He doesn't even have to goad him, their tongues nudging immediately as Regulus eagerly parts his mouth.

It's a wet slide of lips and Regulus’ short nails digging a little desperately into the side of Evan’s ribs when he sucks Regulus’ lower lips between his teeth.

James lets out a loud string of spanish curses outside, slamming a fist into what must be the metal of their balcony railing and Regulus sucks in a breath against Evan’s cheek and oh, is Evan having fun on this beautiful Friday night.

More kissing, hands grabbing and shucking away clothes and when Evan tugs Regulus closer by the hip he makes an entirely too sweet needy noise that goes straight to Evan’s cock.

They keep licking into each others’ mouths, Barty’s and James’ aggravated voices a quiet muffle in the background, and Regulus keeps making these little noises, squirming in place and adjusting his hold on Evan again and again, fingers clenching and unclenching and Evan can’t help himself but grin into the kiss.

It disrupts their rhythm and Regulus makes a complaining grunt that tells Evan he’d roll his eyes right now if he wasn’t currently busy eating Evan’s face off.

He’s so cute Evan wants to take a fucking bite out of him.

Or maybe finger him until he squirts all over the couch.

Evan gives him a lingering kiss on the cheek and then works his way down his neck and Regulus is restless, shifting around and then his fucking knee slides over where Evan is rock hard and he stutters out a truely embarrassing groan for it being a fucking knee.

But Regulus is an angel because he moans in response and slides his fingers into Evan’s bleached curls like it’s second nature whenever he needs something to hold onto.

“Evan,” Regulus speaks up, voice husky and eyes a little glassy when Evan lifts his head to look.

“Reg?” Evan says sweetly, cocking his head, before he goes back to the mark he was about to suck into the pale expanse of his throat.

“I’m– mgh,” Regulus swallows, out of breath, “Can you—”

Evan’s lips twitch into another smile, “Huh? Pardon, I can’t hear you, bébé.”

Regulus huffs but he makes another obscene noise when Evan trails his fingers up the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to where Evan already knows he wants him.

Another of his complaining noises—Evan lets out a snicker against the soft skin and gets a shiver in response—and then, “Want your fingers.”

“Want my fingers, love?” A gentle bite into the tendons of his neck.

Regulus arches, nodding against the cushions, “Please.”

And who is Evan to deny a polite plea as sweet as that of his lover?

Regulus’ sweats, that are actually Barty’s, get discarded. He isn’t even wearing any boxers, nom de dieu, and then Evan is slipping the tip of his middle finger through where Regulus is sinfully slick.

He throws his head back with a moan that Evan feels reverberating down his spine and then Regulus is looking at him with big, silver eyes. Wide and needy and dark brows furrowed and, fuck, so fucking wet for him Evan simply slips in two fingers at once.

And maybe he shouldn’t have. Honestly, should have taken it easy—Usually he’s the last out of the four of them to lose his patience but with Regulus looking at him like that?

Evan presses their lips together, heated and rough, and Regulus welcomes him happily. Makes a high-pitched noise when Evan curls his fingers before starting a slow pace of pumping in and out, thumb drawing slow, teasing circles around his cock.

Suddenly there’s a sharp noise from outside, one of their garden chairs scraping against the tiles of the balcony and then the door flings open.

“—the fuck do you think you’re goin’?”

“If I’m gonna have to listen to your fucking bullshit only one more second I’ll start to get violent, B. Reg is still pissed we didn’t get the blood stains out of the—”

“Fuckin’ pussy. I told you to– oompf,” the sound of someone walking into another body, “James?”

“Shut up.”

“You- fuck you. I’ll—”

“B, look.”

“—fucking destroy you, P- oh.”

Evan peeks over the back of the sofa to see James and Barty standing dumbly in the middle of their living room, expressions slack and balcony door wide open behind them. He crooks his fingers again and Regulus whines brokenly, throwing his head back, mouth parting in a perfect little o and Evan watches James eyes bulge behind his glasses and Barty’s tongue lolling out.

Can’t help himself when he grins menacingly, tilting his head and thumbing over Regulus’ cock again, making the man beside him arch.

“I- you seeing this, Crouch?”

“You fucking bet I am, Jamie.”

“Since when have they- How long were we out there?”

“Dunno but I do know I’m not missing another second of this. Budge up, Rosier. You’re going to get your dick sucked so good.”

“Fine with me as long as you do it ass up,” James murmurs lowly, “Gonna fuck that wrong opinion right out of you.”

Barty scoffs a laugh, “You wish.”

“Then dibs on Regulus riding me.”

“You—”

Evan shakes his head and chases the delectable noise slipping out of Regulus when he slips in a third finger.

[fandomlurker333]

A lot of people are screaming throuple and just writing the porn (which I get! It’s fun!). But reading them come is not enough for me. lol Toxicity is hot until it’s just damaging and sad for everyone. I want real happiness for these three weirdos.

The end of the film was meant to be the very beginning of something. Just the spark of an idea of them coming back to one another. But the real work starts after. 

And I think it would probably be a step-by-step thing. 

I can see Patrick and Art working to draw closer, with that strong foundation of their childhoods to build off of. Obviously having to resolve the hurt that so much time and distance caused them, and both being willing to forgive. But it’s clear at the end of the film that the door is open for that. They grew up together. There’s a real root of knowing that I think could carry them through the toughest parts early on. Their relationship evolving feels possible.

And Tashi and Art’s marriage would find some breathing room and maybe even some renewed delight for having Patrick present and loving on them both. Kinda seeing each other again through his eyes type thing. Remembering they’re more than who they have been to each other for over a decade (both operating in one mode to survive, never quite enough for each other -- not totally fulfilled and not appreciated in their fullness).

I don’t think Patrick and Tashi would be having sex at this point, but I can see like….tennis dates where they bicker. Just them all learning how to be in each other’s space for extended periods of time and enjoy it.

And maybe Art wouldn’t resent Tashi so much for not being able to give him everything (so much has been taken from her — she just doesn’t have all that much left. She’s been doing her best.) and maybe Tashi would feel more at peace seeing them play each other and knowing Art is really loving tennis, not just playing for her. Connecting with them both in that space and finding joy in tennis again, so it’s not just routine and pain and loss for her.

With that healing happening concurrently (with therapists as support, of course), I think they’d get far. And then once those relationships are more secure, once Art and Tashi learn how they relate to each other when he isn’t winning for her (which would be something new. They don’t know what that looks like yet!) then Patrick and Tashi, having learned way more about themselves in relationship and how to communicate, might start working on their side of the triangle lol. 

I could see them all exploring and working out the intimacy over time — not just sex, but intimacy -- what do they each need and how do they need it? And kink too, the various ways they each want/need to give or receive so they all feel truly satisfied.

And of course they’ll be partners co-parenting. All of them.

I can see Tashi finally grieving her injury, the life she lost, and rediscovering her love of tennis, not to win, but for the joy of being on the court. Her sobs the first time she plays again and it’s not competitively, just a little volley, but it’s like she’s finally alive again. Reminding herself she’s a leader in tennis the space still, that she can build success in that world even without Art’s career, but maybe it looks different. I see a healed Tashi learning to enjoy teaching kids. Taking on more protege. And letting Art and Patrick come help at her tennis camps. 

Art retiring like he said he wanted, running the foundation as Tashi steps back. Realizing that he’s actually pretty good at this business thing and going back to school for a Master’s in nonprofit leadership. Meeting new people. Making friends (that aren’t Patrick). Getting invited to a pottery class and seeing he loves to work with his hands. Playing tennis with Patrick on the weekends.

And my heart for stay-at-home dad Patrick. Who always forgets to change over the laundry and leaves his keys everywhere and puts the babies' shoes on the wrong feet. But my god he loves those kids so goddamn much. Patrick learning to cook for the family and getting really good at it like he does anything he hyper-focuses on. Patrick finally having a home with the two people he loves most and figuring out how to create some routine and stability for himself within that container.

The love in that home. Ugh. I think it’s possible! I think they can do it! It just takes work. 

[spiritualitywithtally]

synastry observations (5/07/23)

💌 moon conjunct vesta 🥺🥺🥺🥺. as the vesta person, you have soooo much love & pure devotion for the moon person. & the moon person feels it so heavily & really appreciates that. they (moon) will really miss that love & care if they ever part ways. & vesta, also, will heavily grieve that connection

💌 sun square mercury : the sun person can feel very wounded by any critiques the mercury may have on them. the mercury person can say something about them jokingly & not think much about it but it may linger on the sun persons mind

💌 moon square mercury : as the mercury person, you’ll most likely have to handle conversations with the moon person with a lottt of care and watch not only what you say, but your delivery as well. this is a placement for conversations to blow up & get emotional for moon person very quickly, leaving mercury extremely frustrated. i have this with BOTH of my parents 😬😬😬. not to mention it’s my WATER moon vs. their AIR mercuries. yes, i’ve suffered.

💌 venus in the 3rd or 11th house is a friends to lovers placement

💌 i’m experiencing one sided 12th house synastry romantically for the first time. i have 12th house synastry with literally all of my romantic interests but it’s always a double whammy. this time it’s just my stellium (including my sun) in his 12th house & i feel soo exposed. i feel like he’s always psycho analyzing me & it feels so weird because that’s usually MY role. i also feel very hesitant to express how i feel about him which is also weird to me because i usually don’t have a really hard time with that. so it’s just interesting to observe

💌 6th house synastry is honestly such extreme devotion to another person. talking every single day, always considerate of the other persons feelings. always wanting to help better them & their habits/health. it just feels like you’re meant to be on a journey with this person where you both help each other evolve. one of the best synastry houses in my opinion

💌 with 12th house synastry, there’s always someone else in the picture. you’re likely to be involved in a love triangle when you have 12th house synastry with someone. or you might still be close with an ex when you meet that new person you have this synastry with. or they might be. i’ve seen this so many times, it’s crazy. i suspect that this is maybe because the 12th house is our past, so when you encounter someone you have this synastry with, you just happen to be still carrying baggage from your past or they are

i should make a whole separate post with 12th house synastry observations because i’ve had it with every single person i’ve been involved with romantically 🌚🌚

💌 i feel like also with 12th house synastry, you’ll literally think about this person forever. what they taught you, what could’ve been, where they are now, etc ..

💌 ppl who have planets in your 2nd house realllyyyy effect your self esteem.

thanks so much for reading, let me know what you think. & check out my new astro observations post as well <3

[brunchable]

𝐌𝐫. 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

Part Three | Five Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader, Steve Rogers x f!reader | Daughter of Thaddeus Ross (Red Hulk) Words: 6K Themes: Forbidden/Off-Limits Reader, Love Triangle, M for Mature, 18+ , Post-Endgame, AGE GAP (24y/o reader). Summary: Looking for her own answers, Y/N couldn't help but deviate from Bucky's original therapy plan. Steve takes interest at Y/N after bumping into her in the clinic, just before he and Bucky go out for a drink. A/N: Let the love triangle begin.

taggies: @astrelz @pattiemac1 @mrsevans90

Session 3

Bucky sat quietly on his side of the couch. He wasn’t really sure how to start off the session. He's almost certain they're going to talk about that list again. Then again, he couldn’t help but notice that something was a bit different this session. Though Y/N was in therapist mode—something he could never get used to, now—her posture seems a bit stiff.

He could sense it—something about the way she glanced up at him, the way she seemed a little too intent on keeping things professional. He shifted on the spot, trying to push away the thoughts creeping in from their last couple of run-ins outside the office.

“Not wanting to share today?” Y/N asked, breaking the silence as she scribbled something in her notebook. Her eyes flicked up, meeting his blue dilated ones.

Bucky shrugged. “Just... thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing worth talking about here.” 

Y/N studied him for a moment, before she glanced at his file. “Last week we talked about your amends list. How’s that been going?”

“It’s fine. Not much progress has been made, but it's fine.” Bucky exhaled slowly.

The sound of the ticking clock on the wall filled the space between them. For the first time, Y/N didn’t know how to even continue. She’s feeling a lot of pressure. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since their last session. Or maybe it was that nagging suspicion in the back of her mind.

She wasn’t supposed to pry, wasn’t supposed to deviate from the plan, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered. Could Bucky be the man she kissed at the party? Could he really be the one who’d left her heart racing that night?

She cleared her throat, glancing up at him. “And outside of the list? Your personal life... how’s that?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Y/N hesitated. This wasn’t part of the session’s plan, but the words were already tumbling out before she could stop herself.

“I mean, outside of the list. Your relationships... intimacy... things like that. Have you—have you been able to connect with people?”

Bucky’s expression darkened, but not in anger—more like curiosity. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing.

“Intimacy?”

Y/N stood, moving slowly from behind her desk as if pulled by an invisible thread, her body on autopilot. Bucky’s eyes followed her every step. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she stopped in front of him. Without a second thought she lowered herself onto his lap, her legs straddling him as she settled against him. 

Bucky didn’t flinch. He didn’t move, but his hands found her hips naturally, his grip firm, as if he had been waiting for this, too. His eyes, locked onto hers, but there was no confusion in them—only heat. Her heart raced, faster than she could keep up with, and her breath became shallow as her hands moved to rest on his shoulders. 

She hesitated for a brief second, scanning his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the softness in his lips, the intensity of his gaze—before leaning in. Her lips hovered over his, and she felt a spark. When they finally touched, it was soft at first, a hesitant exploration. But the second he kissed her back, it was as if all the tension, all the uncertainty that had been building between them, broke free.

His lips were warm, firm against hers—experienced more like, and the kiss deepened, igniting something inside her. His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer, and her fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently. She wanted more—needed more—and for a fleeting moment, she felt like she had found the answer she’d been searching for. 

She pulled back slightly, breathless, her forehead resting against his. "It was you, wasn't it?" she whispered, her lips brushing against his. "The man at the party..."

Bucky’s grip on her tightened, his voice low and rough. "Y/N—"

"Y/N?"

Bucky's voice, sharp and real, sliced through the haze. She blinked, reality crashing back in with brutal clarity. 

She wasn’t on his lap. She was still on the couch across from him, notebook clutched tightly in her hand, her knuckles white from the pressure. Her breathing was shallow, heart pounding in her chest. 

Bucky was watching her from his seat, head tilted, concern etched into his features while waving his hand to catch her attention.

"Y/N?" he repeated, voice soft but questioning. "Hello?"

Her heart dropped into her stomach. She blinked again, forcing the heat flooding her cheeks to disappear. It was a daydream... just a daydream, why did it feel so real?

She shifted in her seat trying to ease the heat she's feeling in her core, clearing her throat, trying to hide the fact that her hands were trembling. 

"Yeah, sorry, uh. .  " she muttered, quickly looking down at her notes, her mind racing to catch up. "Just... lost my train of thought."

The room felt smaller and though there was only Bucky's pair of eyes staring at her. She felt a dozen other ones, staring like the know what she just daydreamed about.

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, her mind racing with regret. She shouldn’t have brought this up. This wasn’t part of their professional dynamic, but she couldn’t let it go. The thought of him—of whether or not he had been the man from the party—had been gnawing at her. . .badly.

“Anyways, yes—um intimacy, I mean... have you been able to—well, feel connected to anyone?”

Bucky hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He simply watched her, his blue eyes searching hers, as if he was trying to figure something out. 

“Why do you ask?” There was a subtle melody with the way Bucky said it.

Y/N swallowed, trying to maintain her composure. “It’s just... an important part of healing. Being able to open up, to trust someone.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slight smirk, though there was no humor in it. “Are we still talking about healing?”

“Yes. It’s—it’s part of it. . .” Y/N felt her face heat up, her grip tightening on the notebook in her lap. 

Bucky studied her for a long moment, then frowning. “You don’t seem convinced.”

“I’m just asking,” Y/N said quickly, her voice a little too defensive. She was starting to feel exposed, like Bucky could see right through her. This wasn’t about the session anymore, and they both knew it.

“I haven’t... been with anyone,” Bucky finally said, his tone more guarded now. “Not since... before everything happened. It’s not exactly easy when you’ve been turned into a killing machine.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. Her thoughts were spinning, and all she could think about was that night at the party—the kiss, the way he had held her so close. She needed to know. “And... do you want to be? With someone, I mean.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. “Is that part of the therapy session?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t admit what she was really asking—she couldn’t let him know that she had been wondering if he was the man from that night. But she couldn’t stop herself from pushing.

“I think it’s important,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “To know what you want.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. “What do you think I want?”

She didn’t know. She couldn’t answer that. But something in the way he was looking at her made her question everything she had been telling herself.

“I don’t know,” she finally whispered, her voice unsteady. “I don’t know.”

The silence stretched between them again, thick and suffocating, and for the first time in their sessions, Y/N felt completely unmoored.

Bucky’s gaze softened, and he let out a quiet sigh. “You’re so much better than your mentor, you know that?”

Y/N blinked, her cheeks flushing. “What do you mean?”

Bucky leaned forward again, his voice low. “You care. You’re not just asking because it’s part of your job. You’re asking because you actually care.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away. “Maybe.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I'll think about what I want, maybe we can talk about that in the next session.”

× × × ×

Y/N pushed open the door to the women’s bathroom, her footsteps echoing in the tiled room as she hurried inside. The moment the door swung shut behind her, she let out a long, shaky breath, the tension she had been holding in unraveling. She stepped over to the sink and braced her hands on the cold porcelain, her knuckles still tight and pale from the grip she’d held on her notebook moments before.

She dared to look up, eyes meeting her reflection in the mirror. Her face was flushed, cheeks stained pink, and her hair looked slightly disheveled from the way she had run her fingers through it during the session. But what caught her attention the most was the wide-eyed, almost haunted expression staring back at her.

What the hell was that? she thought, biting her bottom lip.

She straightened up, fingers dragging through her hair again, trying to smooth it down, but the action only made her frustration grow. Her mind spun in circles, replaying the daydream—the way she had straddled him, kissed him like she couldn’t get enough, like she needed to know. 

And in front of him. In front of Bucky.

She let out a small, strangled laugh, though it wasn’t funny at all. She had fantasized about him, for crying out loud—right there in the session, with him watching her the entire time. The worst part? He probably noticed something was off. He had seen her spacing out, seen the tension in her, seen... something. 

She groaned, pressing her hands to her face, trying to smother the memory, the heat creeping up her neck. 

What is wrong with me? she thought, her mind racing. I'm his therapist. He’s my patient. He’s been through hell, and I’m here thinking— She stopped herself, shaking her head. She wasn’t even supposed to think about her patients like that. It was unprofessional, completely out of line. 

But no matter how hard she tried to shake it, the image of Bucky—the feel of him, the intensity of his presence—clung to her like a shadow.

She paced for a moment, the sound of her footsteps reverberating in the quiet space, her fingers curling into her palms as she tried to steady herself. 

"This is ridiculous," she muttered to her reflection. "You’re a professional. You can’t be thinking these kinds of thoughts. Essentially about him."

Y/N leaned in closer to the mirror. Her whole body trembled with the weight of the existential crisis she was battling. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She wasn’t supposed to find someone like Bucky attractive, someone so complicated, so old? 

But she did.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, squeezing her eyes shut, willing herself to calm down. “Get it together, Y/N," she whispered. "You can’t do this. You can’t think like this. Don't be one of those ‘I can fix him’ type.”

But the truth was, the more she tried to push him away, the more his presence seemed to seep into her thoughts, her every waking moment. She wasn’t sure how to face him again without her heart racing and her mind betraying her.

With one last glance at her flushed, conflicted reflection, Y/N took a deep breath and turned toward the door. The existential crisis would have to wait—she had a job to do, and more importantly, she had to find a way to keep her mind off Bucky Barnes. 

Easier said than done, she thought, her stomach twisting with the weight of what had just happened.

Y/N took one final deep breath, bracing herself as she pushed open the bathroom door. The hallway outside seemed quieter than usual, but the mess inside her head was anything but. She needed to shake this off, to focus, to—

She wasn’t paying attention. Her mind was still swirling, and as soon as she stepped out, she collided with something solid. The sudden impact threw her off balance, and she gasped, her hand instinctively reaching for the wall, but before she could even register what had happened, strong arms caught her.

“Whoa, easy there.”

The voice was smooth and deep. Y/N’s heart lurched in her chest as she looked up to see Steve Rogers standing in front of her, his hands gently grabbing her arms to keep her steady before she could fall.

Her breath hitched, the embarrassment of her near fall mixing with the embarrassment of everything that had just gone through her head minutes ago. Of all the people she could have bumped into…

“Steve—I mean Captain?” she managed to breathe out, her voice shaky.

“Steve is fine, you okay?” He gave her a small smile, his grip still firm but gentle, making sure she was steady on her feet before he let her go. 

Y/N blinked up at him, her pulse still racing from the shock. “Yeah, sorry—I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she mumbled, trying to regain her composure, though the heat in her cheeks wasn’t helping. 

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flashing across his features. “You seemed a little out of it there.”

Great, she thought. Just what I need—Captain America catching me at my worst moment.

Y/N quickly straightened herself, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to act like her entire world hadn’t just been flipped upside down in the last twenty minutes. “I’ts nothing. Just... long day.”

Steve nodded, his blue eyes studying her carefully, but he didn’t press. He stepped back, giving her a bit more space, though the warmth from his hands still lingered on her arms.

“Well, I’m glad I was here. You almost took a dive there,” he teased lightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up into that boyish smile of his.

She tried to return it, but the proximity to Steve wasn’t helping. First, she’d been daydreaming about Bucky, and now she was literally falling into Steve’s arms. Could this day get any worse?

“Thanks for the save,” she replied, fiddling with her necklace.

Steve’s smile softened, and for a second, he just looked at her, his gaze more thoughtful. 

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked again, his voice lower this time, more serious.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just… some stuff on my mind.”

Steve’s eyes lingered on her, as if he wasn’t quite convinced but wasn’t going to push her any further. 

“Alright,” he said finally, stepping back fully now. “Um. . .did Bucky leave already? He wasn’t replying to my texts.”

Y/N blinked at the mention of Bucky's name, her stomach doing a little flip. Of course, Steve was here for Bucky.

She nodded, trying to keep her voice steady.  “Yeah, he left a little while ago. I’m not sure where he went, though. He seemed… really keen to leave.”

Steve’s eyebrows knitted together with concern. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly thinking. 

“That sounds like him,” he muttered under his breath, then looked back at her with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “He’s been a bit off lately, but I guess you’ve noticed.”

Y/N forced a tight smile. "Yeah... something like that."

She had definitely noticed. After that therapy session, where she'd practically thrown professionalism out the window in her head, there was no way she could not notice Bucky. The way he looked at her now, the way his presence filled the room even when he wasn’t trying—everything about him had her all twisted up inside.

“Mind if I ask?” Steve’s voice cut through her internal monologue, pulling her attention back to him.

“Hmm?” she asked, blinking back into focus. “Ask what?”

Steve shifted his weight slightly, rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit, she realized. 

“What’s on your mind? You seem... I don’t know, like you’ve got something weighing on you. If it’s something about Bucky or—”

“No!” Y/N blurted out a little too quickly.

“Steve.”

Y/N's heart thudded loudly in her chest as she turned slowly, her body stiffening at the sound of Bucky’s voice. Bucky was walking towards them, his figure tall and imposing. His presence always had a way of commanding attention, whether he meant to or not. And now, with him walking toward them, every nerve in her body seemed to be on high alert.

Steve offered a small smile, clearly relieved. “Buck, there you are. You weren’t answering my texts.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to Steve briefly, but then, almost immediately, they landed on Y/N. She could feel it, the weight of his gaze settling on her like a physical touch. Her stomach twisted, and her breath felt caught in her throat. She averted her eyes, focusing on the floor, the knot of tension tightening in her chest.

“I was busy,” Bucky replied.

Steve crossed his arms, glancing between the two of them. “Busy? You could’ve let me know. Thought you might’ve disappeared again.”

Y/N shifted on her feet, she could feel the awkwardness radiating off her in waves, and avoiding Bucky’s gaze was getting harder with every passing second. The memory of her daydream flashed through her mind—the way she had imagined being so close to him, the way her body had responded in ways it never should have. 

I can't do this right now, she thought desperately, her pulse quickening.

Bucky was silent for a moment, and Y/N could tell he was still looking at her, probably noticing how rigid she had become. She willed herself to move, to say something, but she felt trapped, her embarrassment from earlier still clawing at her.

Finally, Bucky spoke, his voice softer than before. “I wasn’t planning on disappearing. Just needed some air.”

Y/N could feel Steve glancing between the two of them, probably trying to figure out what exactly was going on. She swallowed hard, still refusing to meet Bucky’s eyes, and cleared her throat, trying to force herself back into the present.

“Well,” Y/N said quickly, her voice tight and shaky. “I’ve got... a few things to take care of. Nice seeing you both, again.”

She stepped back, her heart racing as she turned on her heel. She couldn’t stand there for another second. Not with the weight of Bucky’s gaze still burning into her, not with the reminder of her unprofessional thoughts swirling in her mind. It was too much.

“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice stopped her in her tracks. Her breath hitched, and she stood frozen for a second, her heart pounding so hard she was sure Steve and Bucky could hear it. She swallowed hard, her mind racing. Please, not now.

She didn’t turn around, not yet. She couldn’t bring herself to face him, not after everything that had happened in her head, not with the heat of her embarrassment still simmering under her skin.

But then, she forced herself to respond, her voice shaky and soft. “Yes?”

There was a brief pause, a beat too long, before Bucky spoke again. “You dropped this.”

Y/N frowned, confused, before glancing down at her hand—only to realize her notebook was missing. Of course. Her face flushed as she realized she must have left it in the therapy room, completely distracted by her own spiraling thoughts. She slowly turned around to find Bucky standing there, holding the small notebook in his hand, his expression unreadable.

“Right. Thanks,” she mumbled, walking back toward him, though every step felt heavier with the awkward tension that lingered between them.

As she reached out to take the notebook from him, her fingers brushed his, and she quickly pulled her hand back, feeling the heat rush to her face. Bucky’s eyes lingered on her for just a moment longer, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. She clutched the notebook tightly, taking a small step back.

“I, uh… appreciate it,” she said, her voice quiet.

“No problem,” Bucky replied, his tone casual.

“Nice meeting you again, Y/N.” Steve smiled.

She gave them both a quick nod, forcing a small, tight smile before turning on her heel once more, this time making sure she didn’t leave anything behind as she hurried away.

As Y/N disappeared around the corner, Steve’s gaze lingered a little too long, his brow furrowed in thought. Bucky, standing beside him, noticed the way Steve was still watching, and his jaw clenched tighter. 

After a moment of silence, Bucky finally spoke, his voice low and a bit sharper than he intended. “You’re staring, Steve.”

Steve blinked, tearing his eyes away from the hallway and glancing at Bucky, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Was I?”

Bucky gave him a pointed look, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, you were.”

Steve’s lips curved into a small smile, clearly unfazed. “Didn’t realize it,” he said lightly, though there was a teasing edge to his tone. “But now that you mention it, she is... easy to stare at. She looks very familiar now I see her up close, actually.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but his expression tightened. He could feel the tension creeping up his spine, and for some reason, hearing Steve say that only made it worse.

Steve, sensing the shift in Bucky’s mood, raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Hey, don’t get all worked up. Just saying what I see.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, trying to keep himself calm. “She’s my therapist.”

“Sure,” Steve replied, the teasing smile still on his face. “But don’t act like I’m the only one noticing.”

Bucky shot him a look, not bothering to hide his frustration. “Drop it.”

Steve chuckled, but he didn’t push further. “Alright, alright. Consider it dropped.”

Steve may have been teasing, but Bucky knew there was a kernel of truth in his words. And the fact that Steve had picked up on it only made things more complicated.

For the rest of the walk, Bucky couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling gnawing at him. He didn’t like how this was getting under his skin—how Y/N was getting under his skin. And now, with Steve’s attention on her too, it felt like everything was starting to blur in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

× × × ×

“Thanks for coming out, Buck,” Steve said, taking a sip of his beer.

Bucky shrugged, swirling his drink lazily before taking a sip. “Figured you could use the company.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve been here, huh?”

Bucky grunted, though his gaze wandered around the bar, his attention only half on the conversation. It was like he was avoiding something.

“So,” Steve started, deciding to dive in, “remember that girl?”

Bucky’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass, but his face stayed neutral as he raised an eyebrow. “The girl? Yeah, kinda hard to forget.”

Steve chuckled. “Sam’s been all over me about it. He thinks I should try to find her.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky asked, his voice smooth as ever, keeping the conversation light. “Sam’s full of great ideas, isn’t he?”

“He’s not wrong. I mean, until now it wont leave my head so there must be something about her, you know?” Steve laughed sheepishly.

Bucky smirked, taking another sip of his drink. “Different how? Did she float?”

Steve snorted. “No, smartass. It wasn’t like that. I don’t know... there was just something about her. I can’t explain it.”

Bucky hummed, feigning interest as he leaned back, his glass spinning lightly in his fingers. “Huh. Sounds like a case of party goggles. One kiss and now she’s stuck in your head forever?”

Steve shook his head, the smile fading a little. “Nah, it wasn’t like that. It’s just. . . I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

Bucky nodded along like he was giving the whole thing serious thought. “Yeah, I get it. Girl shows up out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, then poof—vanishes into the night. Real fairytail stuff.”

Steve frowned, realizing Bucky was being more sarcastic than usual. “You don’t believe me?”

Bucky grinned. “Oh, I believe you. I just think maybe you’re making it a bigger deal than it is. You don’t even know her name, man.”

“That’s part of it,” Steve insisted, leaning in. “I don’t know why, but I can’t stop thinking about her. There’s something there, something I’ve gotta figure out.”

Bucky tilted his head, letting out a slow whistle. “That deep, huh?”

Steve nodded. 

“Well,” Bucky shrugged, “you ever consider that maybe you’re chasing a ghost? People have a way of looking more perfect when they’re a mystery. Could just be the party messing with your head.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, watching Bucky closely. “You really don’t think I should try to find her?”

Bucky shrugged again, a casual grin on his lips. “I’m just saying, you can spend your life chasing down people you’ll never see again, or you can move on. It was a party. People dance, they move on.”

Steve studied Bucky for a moment, feeling like something was off but unable to pin it down. “You’re not telling me something.”

Bucky looked at him, his expression blank, and for a moment Steve thought he might be onto something. But then Bucky just leaned back in his chair and gave him an exaggerated look of confusion. “What, me? I told you, Steve. Party goggles. Happens to the best of us.”

Steve frowned, leaning back in his own seat. “You’ve been quiet since. You sure there’s nothing going on?”

Bucky gave him a slow, amused smile. “Me? Nah. I’m just enjoying the show. You chasing a mystery girl is way more fun than my life.”

Steve let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. 

Bucky gave a light chuckle, raising his glass. “Well, here’s to the hunt. Hope you find your princess, Cap.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the smile returned. “Yeah, yeah.”

As they sat in silence for a moment, Steve’s mind continued to spin. There was something about Bucky’s tone that felt... off. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Anyway,” Steve said, breaking the silence, “thanks for listening.”

“Always here for a good mystery,” Bucky said with a wink, finishing his drink. “Just don’t expect me to go full detective with you. I’ve retired.”

Steve shook his head, smiling despite himself. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

The conversation turned to other things after that, more relaxed. But Bucky knew Steve wouldn’t drop the mystery girl anytime soon.

And Bucky? He wasn’t about to make it easy for him.

× × × ×

Y/N sat across from her father in the grand dining room, she tried to focus on his words, but her mind kept wandering. She nodded at the right moments, gave the expected responses, but her thoughts felt slippery, like trying to hold water in her hands.

Thaddeus’s words faded in and out, and at one point, Y/N realized with a start that she hadn’t been listening to him for the last several minutes. She blinked, trying to recall what he had just said, but her mind was blank.

"Y/N?" her father asked, his sharp voice breaking through her daze. "Did you hear what I said?"

Her heart jumped in her chest, and she forced herself to nod. "Yes. Sorry, just... distracted."

Thaddeus narrowed his eyes at her, clearly not buying her excuse. "You seem more than distracted."

Y/N quickly shook her head. "No, I’m fine. Really.”

Thaddeus cleared his throat, setting his fork down with a sense of authority. “We need to talk about the event next month.”

Y/N glanced up from her plate, already feeling the weight of the conversation. “Mhm, go on.”

Thaddeus nodded, his face serious. “Yes. In a month’s time, the world will know who you are. The Ross family will finally be complete in the public eye.”

Y/N let out a short, almost bitter laugh. “Family? It’s just you and me, Dad. Doesn’t really scream ‘family’ to me.”

Thaddeus’s eyes narrowed slightly at her comment, “This is about perception, Y/N. The country needs to see that I have a family standing behind me. Strong, united.”

Y/N shook her head, still smiling humorlessly. “You’ve kept me hidden for years, and now you want to play the ‘family man’ for the cameras?”

Thaddeus’s face hardened. “It's necessary. The public needs to see stability, especially with everything that’s happening politically. You’ll be introduced, and people will see that I’m not just a leader—I’m a father. A man with family values.”

Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes, pushing her plate away slightly. “Family values,” she repeated, the words tasting bitter. “What family values? You’re always working. I barely see you.”

Her father’s expression didn’t waver. “That’s why this is important. You’ll solidify the image. You’ll be the proof of my commitment, not just to the country, but to my family.”

Y/N shook her head, feeling a knot of frustration building in her chest. “I’ve lived outside the spotlight my whole life, Dad. I didn’t ask for any of this. And now you want me to just... smile and play the perfect daughter?”

Thaddeus’s gaze sharpened, his tone cooling. “It’s more than just smiling. You know that. This is about duty, Y/N.”

“Duty,” Y/N scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Of course. It’s always about duty with you.”

Thaddeus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You don’t understand how important this is.”

“No,” Y/N shot back, “I do understand. Now I realize that you’re using me for your image, and I’m supposed to just fall in line.”

“This isn’t just about you. This is bigger than either of us. The people need to see that I have a strong, supportive family. It gives them confidence.”

Y/N clenched her fists under the table, her heart racing with frustration. “But what about me, Dad? What about what I want? You’ve made all the decisions for me up until now, and I’ve gone along with it.”

Thaddeus leaned forward slightly, his tone growing more insistent. “You knew this was coming. We’ve talked about this before. You’ve had time to prepare.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice softening. “Prepare for what? To lose my privacy? You don’t care about what this means for me—you just care about how it looks for you.”

Thaddeus’s face remained impassive, though his tone was clipped. “That’s not true. I care about you, Y/N. But I also care about this country and what’s best for it.”

Y/N let out another hollow laugh, her frustration bubbling over. “Right. Because nothing says ‘family man’ like dragging your daughter into the spotlight when she’s never wanted to be there.”

Thaddeus didn’t respond for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You will do this, Y/N. It’s not just about me. It’s about this family, the country, and the image we need to uphold.”

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, her shoulders sagging under the weight of his expectations. She knew she couldn’t win this argument. Her father had already made up his mind, and she was just another part of his larger plan.

After a long pause, Y/N’s voice was quiet. “And after the event? What happens then?”

Thaddeus leaned back in his chair, his expression softening ever so slightly. “After the event, we’ll take it one step at a time. The public will get to know you gradually. It won’t all happen overnight.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the knot in her stomach tightening. “I don’t know if I want to do this.”

Her father’s gaze softened, if only for a moment. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. You’ve always been.”

Y/N nodded, though her heart felt heavy. “Fine,” she said quietly. “I’ll be there. But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Thaddeus gave her a small nod, satisfied with her response. “Good. We’ll go over the details as the date gets closer.”

Y/N pushed her plate further away, her appetite long gone. As the conversation shifted to less intense topics, she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled in her chest. The event was a month away, but it already felt like it was looming over her, threatening to swallow her whole.

With a quiet sigh, she dabbed her napkin at her mouth and stood up from the table, her chair scraping lightly against the polished floor. “I’m going to go,” she said softly, her voice strained with the weight of the conversation.

Thaddeus looked up, his brow furrowed slightly. He hadn’t expected her to leave so abruptly. “What about the engagement?”

Y/N froze for a moment, her fingers tightening around the edge of the napkin. The conversation with Ethan flashed through her mind, the vague promises, the unspoken truths. She sighed, letting the napkin fall back onto the table.

“Me and Ethan are going to talk,” she said, her voice firm but distant. “If that gives you some peace of mind.”

Thaddeus’s eyes lingered on her, his expression unreadable. “Good,” he said finally, though there was little warmth in his voice. “Make sure you do. It’s important.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She gave him a small nod, turned on her heel, and walked out of the dining room. The ornate hallways of the White House felt colder tonight, the grandeur and elegance offering no comfort as she made her way back to her room. Her father’s words echoed in her mind, but it wasn’t just the upcoming event that weighed on her—it was everything. The engagement, the pressure, the constant feeling of being trapped in a life she hadn’t chosen.

× × × ×

As Y/N walked out of the dining room, the ornate hallways of the White House felt colder tonight, the grandeur and elegance offering no comfort as she made her way back to her room. Each step echoed off the polished marble floors, but something felt off. Her mind, which had been racing moments earlier, now felt strangely... blank. She frowned, her fingers brushing along the wall for balance.

Halfway to her room, she paused, looking around as though she had forgotten where she was going. She stopped in her tracks, staring at the portraits that lined the hallway—portraits she had passed a thousand times. Yet, tonight, the faces blurred.

Y/N blinked hard, trying to shake the strange feeling creeping over her. Where was I going again?

For a split second, the thought slipped away, her mind drawing a blank. It was disorienting, like waking from a deep dream and not remembering where you were. She took a slow breath, pressing a hand to her temple. The faint throb there wasn’t new, but it was persistent, as if her brain was working too hard to pull thoughts together.

“Get it together,” she whispered to herself, glancing around the hallway. The elegant space seemed suddenly unfamiliar, foreign, even though she had lived here for years.

Y/N shook her head, trying to dismiss the uneasy feeling that was building in her chest. It’s just stress, she told herself. It’s everything happening at once. The event, the engagement, the media. It’s all just... too much.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t just the stress. It has been happening more often lately—small, almost unnoticeable lapses. Forgetting where she put her phone, struggling to recall the names of people she had just met, moments of disorientation that she’d brushed off. They weren’t constant, but they were enough to make her wonder.

Still, Y/N pushed the thought aside and continued down the hallway, her fingers trailing along the wall for grounding. She reached what will become her room and pushed the door open, exhaling a sigh of relief as she stepped into the familiar space. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, but the lingering unease from the hallway stuck with her, sitting heavy in the pit of her stomach.

[passengerprincessblog]

“Off Track” ~ Pt. 5 Franco x Reader

WARNINGS: NSFW, angst, arguments, sexting, cheating.

Summary: As tensions flare between Y/N and Lewis after a heated argument, Y/N finds unexpected solace in a late-night text exchange with Franco, her forbidden feelings reigniting despite her guilt. Torn between loyalty and the thrill of something new, Y/N struggles to navigate the boundaries of her emotions as her connection with Franco deepens.

(Note: this is lowkey a filler part, just trying to move the story along and plant some lore, if you will, for later. Thanks for liking and reading.)

The evening was winding down, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses signaling that the gala was coming to a close. People lingered, exchanging goodbyes and quiet laughter, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through me from earlier, or the way Franco’s presence seemed to tether me to the room. Whatever it was, I wasn’t ready to go.

Lewis, however, seemed to have other ideas. His arm had found its way around my waist, his hand resting possessively on my hip as he kept me close to his side. It wasn’t unusual for him to be affectionate, but tonight, there was a different energy about him—an almost territorial vibe that made my heart skip, especially with Franco so close.

As we stood near the bar, Lewis’s fingers dipped slightly, brushing the small of my back in a way that felt almost like a reminder. He leaned close, his voice a soft murmur, “Ready to head home yet?”

I managed a small smile, trying to sound casual as I replied, “Maybe in a minute…”

Lewis’s hand tightened on my hip, pulling me just a bit closer, and I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and expectant. But I kept my eyes on Franco, who stood nearby, nursing a glass of champagne. There was a slight flush to his cheeks, his gaze flicking between Lewis and me, as if he was caught between his admiration for his idol and… something else. Something unspoken.

We struck up a conversation about the gala, the elegance of the setup, the cause it supported. Lewis seemed content enough to let me speak, but every now and then, his hand would drift lower, brushing over the curve of my hip, edging dangerously close to my ass. It sent a shiver through me, not entirely pleasant, because every touch reminded me of the guilt twisting in my stomach. I should be here for Lewis. But I just fucked Franco in the closet.

“Franco,” I said, my voice a little too bright, “it must be exciting, being part of f1? All the fans, the money.”

He chuckled, looking a bit bashful, his eyes darting between Lewis and me. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that kind of thing. It still feels a bit surreal. Besides, compared to you two, I’m just a rookie, tagging along.”

Lewis laughed, pulling me closer, his hand slipping lower until it rested on the curve of my ass, claiming me in a way that was impossible to ignore. “You’ll get there, Franco,” he said, his voice warm and encouraging. “Work hard enough, and maybe one day, you’ll be hosting your own events like this.”

I could see the admiration in Franco’s eyes, but there was something else too—a flicker of discomfort, or maybe jealousy, that he couldn’t quite hide. He took a sip of his champagne, his gaze shifting to me, a small, strained smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone light, but I could hear the underlying tension. “Maybe one day.”

The three of us stood there, a triangle of complicated feelings, each of us playing our parts but somehow teetering on the edge of something unspeakable. I could feel Lewis’s fingers press slightly against me, his silent message clear: I’m yours, and you’re mine. But my heart betrayed me, fluttering at the sight of Franco’s shy, slightly flushed face.

“Speaking of traveling,” Franco continued, trying to keep the conversation flowing, “You said you two might be going to Monaco soon?”

Lewis nodded, his smile proud. “That’s the plan. Got some events lined up, and it’s always nice to go back there. It’s the perfect place to relax.”

Franco nodded, but his gaze lingered on me, his eyes softening in a way that made my heart ache. “Sounds amazing,” he said quietly, and for a moment, it felt as though his words were meant for me alone, as if he wanted me to know he wished he were going, too.

The guilt clawed its way back, twisting in my stomach as I forced myself to look away. Lewis leaned close again, his breath warm against my ear. “We’re leaving. Now,” he murmured, his tone leaving no room for argument. I looked at him, slightly annoyed but he didn’t notice.

I swallowed, casting one last glance at Franco, who was watching us with a mix of longing and resignation. “Goodnight, Franco,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “Goodnight, Y/N. Lewis.”

I could feel the weight of his gaze as we turned to leave, and every step away from him felt like a thread being stretched thin, holding us together by the faintest of connections. As much as I knew I should be relieved to go, the ache in my chest only grew, a reminder of the forbidden feelings I couldn’t seem to let go of.

Back at Lewis’s luxurious flat, the silence wrapped around us. I quickly made my way upstairs, into his huge bedroom. As I began taking off my jewelry, one piece at a time, the remnants of the night still swirling in my mind. Franco… me.. I felt a twist of excitement and couldn’t help but smile. Lewis watched me, his gaze soft but expectant, like he was waiting for something.

“So,” he said after a moment, breaking the quiet, “what did you think of the gala? It was nice, right?” He said, watching my face.

I smiled, nodding. “It was beautiful. You did an amazing job. Your speech was…” I paused, searching for the right words, “…inspiring.” I say as I put the earrings down on the dresser.

A smile crept across his face, his chest puffing slightly, pleased with my answer. I know exactly what to say. But as I slipped off my rings, my thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to Franco.

“I really hope Franco has a seat next year,” I said, almost absentmindedly. “He’s so talented, and… he deserves it.”

The softness in Lewis’s expression shifted, his gaze sharpening slightly as he looked at me. “Yeah,” he replied, his tone neutral. “He’s a good kid. But tonight wasn’t really about him.”

The subtle annoyance in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and I bit my lip, realizing how my words must have sounded. “Of course, I know,” I said quickly. “Your gala was incredible, Lewis. You put so much into it, and I’m so proud of you.”

He stepped closer, his hands reaching out to gently rest on my shoulders, his gaze softening once more. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You have no idea how much it means to have you here with me.”

His hands trailed down my arms, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending a familiar warmth through me. He leaned down, pressing his lips softly to my neck, lingering as he kissed a gentle path across my skin.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on him, to let myself sink into his touch and forget everything else. This was Lewis, the man I loved, the one who had always been there for me, who had shared his world with me. But even as I leaned into him, I couldn’t shake the faint pull, the thought of Franco’s hands, the lingering touch that had marked me in ways I didn’t understand.

Lewis’s hands slid around my waist, pulling me close, his lips trailing down to my collarbone. “Tonight was perfect,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “But it would be even better if I reminded you how much I love you...”

I forced a smile, nodding, letting him guide me, his affection a steady presence I didn’t deserve yet couldn’t resist. But deep inside, beneath the guilt and the thrill, a part of me lingered elsewhere, caught in a quiet moment with someone I couldn’t have.

And though I knew I should be fully present with Lewis, the shadow of my feelings for Franco remained, a quiet, forbidden ache I couldn’t quite let go of.

Lewis’s kisses grew more intense, his hands tightening around my waist, pulling me closer as he moved hungrily against me. His tongue swirling with mine, sending soft shivers down my spine. His desire was palpable, the urgency in his touch unmistakable.

But as much as I wanted to reciprocate, to lose myself in him, my heart wasn’t in it. My mind was a mess, my emotions tangled and conflicted, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t muster the same energy he was pouring into this moment.

He pulled back, his forehead creased in confusion, searching my face for some sign of reassurance. “What’s going on, Y/N?” he asked, his voice quiet but tinged with frustration. “You’ve been… distant. This isn’t like you.”

I looked away, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m fine, Lewis. You’re overthinking it.”

He let out a humorless laugh, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Overthinking it? Really? You think I don’t notice when something’s wrong with you? It’s insulting that you’d even say that to me.”

I took a deep breath, feeling defensive, the weight of his scrutiny pressing down on me. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long week, that’s all.”

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “No, it’s more than that. You’re not yourself, Y/N. You don’t call me ‘lovie’ anymore. You barely respond to my texts, and when you do, it’s like… it’s like you’re somewhere else entirely.” He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re not affectionate, you’re distant… like you’re just going through the motions.”

I felt my frustration rising, the guilt twisting in my stomach, and before I could stop myself, I snapped, “Maybe you’re just imagining things, Lewis. Not everything is about you.”

His face hardened, his expression darkening. “Imagining things?” he repeated, his voice cold. “You think I don’t notice when my girlfriend is slipping away from me? When she’s acting like she’d rather be anywhere else but with me?”

The argument escalated quickly, our voices rising as the tension between us reached a breaking point. The words tumbled out, sharp and angry, the resentment bubbling to the surface.

“You think everything’s about you,” I retorted, my voice shaking with anger. “Every conversation, every moment—it’s always centered around you, your career, your achievements. You don’t even see what’s happening around you.”

He looked at me, his jaw clenched, and I could see the hurt flash in his eyes. “You know what?” he said, his voice dangerously low. “I may be a lot of things, but don’t you dare call me selfish. I’ve done everything for you. I’ve paid for everything. I bought you the best of everything, paid off your $80,000 student debt without even blinking, and you have the audacity to call me selfish?”

His words cut through me, a bitter reminder of the life he’d given me, the things he’d provided without ever asking for anything in return. And as much as I wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, I couldn’t. The truth was, he had done so much for me, more than I could ever repay.

I felt a hot flush of embarrassment, my anger fading as the weight of his words settled over me. “I… I know, Lewis,” I said quietly, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m grateful, I am.”

He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Grateful? It doesn’t feel like it. You act like everything I do means nothing to you. I give you everything, and you treat me like I’m just… some guy.”

I huffed, too overwhelmed to say anything that would make things better. I turned, storming out of his bedroom, my steps echoing down the hallway as I tried to put distance between us, to escape the guilt and shame that clung to me.

As I reached the door, his voice followed me, sharp and accusing. “You can be so childish, Y/N! I give you everything, and you act cold and distant with me?”

I spun around, my face flushed with anger. “I do not!”

He took a step toward me, his eyes dark and filled with something I couldn’t quite place. “Then prove it,” he said, his voice low and intense, the challenge in his words unmistakable.

The silence stretched between us, thick and charged, and I felt my heart pounding, the weight of his demand pressing down on me, leaving me torn between loyalty and the confusing mess of emotions swirling inside me.

“I don’t need to prove it!” I whined, sounding more like a petulant teenager than I cared to admit.

Without waiting for his response, I turned and marched down the long hall, my footsteps echoing in the quiet flat. I reached the guest bedroom, the room he’d told me was mine back when we’d first started dating, and slammed the door behind me, letting the sound reverberate through the walls. My chest heaved as I fought back tears, the mix of anger, guilt, and frustration bubbling over until I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I spent the next hour sulking, feeling the sting of our argument replay in my mind. The things he’d said, the accusations… they all settled in like weights on my chest. I tried to brush it off, to convince myself that I’d been justified, but the guilt lingered, gnawing at me in a way that wouldn’t go away. Eventually, I dragged myself into the shower, hoping the warm water would wash away some of the tension, and changed into some old clothes I’d left here, remnants of the days when I used to spend more time in London with him.

As I curled up on the bed, my phone buzzed, and I looked down to see a new message from Franco.

“Hey, hermosa.”

My eyes lit up, a flutter of excitement rising in my stomach that I tried to ignore. I quickly typed back, my fingers moving almost instinctively.

“Hi, Franco.”

He responded almost instantly, and I could practically hear his teasing tone.

“Why are you up so late?”

I froze for a moment, hesitation prickling in my mind. Should I tell him? Should I let him in on what had just happened? After a beat, I decided to go for it.

“Lewis…”

A pause. I watched the typing dots appear, then disappear. Finally, his response came.

“Lewis?”

The single word hung on the screen, and I stared at it, my heart pounding as I wondered what he was thinking. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, maybe I was crossing a line. But before I could second-guess myself, my fingers moved again.

“Nothing.”

I hoped he’d let it go, but Franco was persistent.

“Come on. What’s wrong?”

The concern in his words made my heart ache, and suddenly, I found myself pouring out a little more than I intended.

“Just argued…”

I hesitated, watching the screen as he typed, the anticipation building.

“Are you okay, hermosa?”

His words wrapped around me like a warm embrace, and before I knew it, the truth spilled out.

“I wish you were here.”

A pause, and then his response came, as bold and honest as ever.

“I wish you were with me.”

My stomach flipped, and I felt the thrill building, the tension between us reawakening despite everything that had happened with Lewis. The guilty thoughts from earlier seemed to melt away, replaced by the excitement that only Franco could bring out in me.

“Where are you?” I typed, my heart pounding.

There was a slight delay before his answer came, as if he were weighing his response carefully.

“My hotel.”

My fingers trembled as I typed, feeling the forbidden nature of the question.

“Where?”

His answer came quickly, but his words made me smile, a soft laugh escaping my lips.

“Hermosa… Don’t ask me that. I’m going to need you to come.”

“Fine,” I replied, smiling to myself as I felt the thrill of our conversation overpowering the guilt that had been hanging over me.

He replied almost immediately, teasingly pushing the conversation forward.

“What are you doing?”

I smirked, typing out my response.

“I’m just in bed. Giving Lewis the silent treatment.”

“Poor Lewis,” he replied with a hint of mischief. “You should be nicer to him.”

“Glazer.” I text back.

“Says you,” he shot back. I’m unable to stop myself from smiling.

“I don’t glaze him.” I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at his attempt to tease me.

“Sure.”

A laugh slipped past my lips, and I could feel my mood lifting, the heaviness of the evening melting away in the warmth of Franco’s messages.

“So you are just in bed?” he texted, and I felt my heart race at the subtle implication.

“Yes,” I replied, biting my lip as I waited for his response.

A moment later, his next message appeared, sending a thrill through me that I couldn’t deny.

“I would love a picture.”

My stomach twisted with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Should I send him a selfie? This was already dangerous territory, pushing boundaries I shouldn’t be touching… and yet, the thrill was undeniable, a pull I couldn’t resist.

I glanced at the mirror across the room, debating with myself. My heart pounded as I weighed the options, the rational part of me screaming to stop, while the reckless side urged me to go for it. After all, it was just a picture, right? Just a small, innocent picture…

My fingers trembled slightly as I picked up my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Just a picture, I told myself, nothing more.

I stood up and walked over to the mirror, taking a moment to adjust my appearance. My tank top had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of my waist. I tugged it down, but not before taking a quick selfie, capturing the tantalizing glimpse of skin.

Too much? Maybe it’s not enough…I wondered, biting my lip as I debated. But then again, Franco had asked for a picture...

With a flush creeping up my neck, I decided to take another photo, this time angling the camera to show off my cleavage. My breasts strained against the thin fabric of my top, the outline of my nipples visible through the material.

I hesitated for a moment, my finger hovering over the send button. What am I doing? I thought, panic rising in my throat. But then I remembered the thrill of Franco's earlier messages, the way his words had made me feel desired, wanted.

Before I could second-guess myself, I hit send, the picture winging its way to Franco's phone. I immediately felt guilty, my stomach twisting with a mixture of excitement and shame.

Oh god, what if he shows someone? What if Lewis finds out? My mind raced with worst-case scenarios, even as a part of me thrilled at the danger, the taboo nature of what I had just done.

I paced the room, my heart pounding as I waited for Franco's response. Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. Maybe he didn't like it, I thought, panic rising in my chest. Maybe I went too far...

But then, my phone buzzed with a new message, and I nearly dropped it in my haste to read it.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous. You’re going to give me this while I can’t be near you? Evil." Franco had written.

I felt a rush of heat flood through me at Franco's words, my cheeks flushing with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. I know I am doing.. and I hate that I’m enjoying this..

A thrill of excitement coursed through me, and before I could second-guess myself, I typed out a response.

"Your turn," I wrote, my fingers trembling slightly as I hit send. "I want to see you too."

Oh god, what am I doing? I thought, my stomach twisting with a heady mix of anticipation and anxiety. But I couldn't deny the thrill that shot through me at the thought of seeing Franco, of having something tangible to fantasize about.

After a few seconds, I get a notification.

It’s a picture of Franco, in the big hotel bed. His abs on full display. My stomach twirls.

I feel myself grow with need. Need for him.

I can’t respond.. what am I doing?! But my fingers are doing something else entirely, typing out another message.

“I didn’t get to see that tonight.” I text back. Even in the throes of our rushed closet moment, I didn’t get to see all of him.

“Well, I didn’t get to see it all either.”

My face heats up. Fuck….

“Would you like to pretty boy?” I hit send. I turn my phone off and throw it at the edge of the bed. What’s wrong with me?! Lewis is literally done the hall.

I felt a rush of panic as I threw my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. What the hell am I doing? I thought, my mind reeling. Lewis is right down the hall, and I'm sexting with Franco?

But even as I tried to talk myself down, I couldn't ignore the heat that still pulsed through my body, the ache that had settled low in my belly. God, I want him, I admitted to myself, biting my lip hard enough to hurt. I want to see more of him, to feel his hands on my skin...

I paced the room, my mind racing with possibilities. We could sneak away, I thought, my heart rate picking up at the idea. Meet up somewhere private, somewhere where no one would catch us...

I shook my head, trying to clear it. No, I can't, I told myself firmly. I can't do this to Lewis, can't betray him like this. Even if he did hurt me tonight, even if he is an asshole sometimes... I love him. I can't throw that away.

But even as I tried to convince myself, I couldn't deny the way my body reacted at the thought of Franco, the way my skin tingled with anticipation. Fuck, I thought, running a hand through my hair in frustration. What the hell do I do?

I glanced at my phone, sitting innocently on the bed. I should just leave it, I thought, my resolve wavering. Should just ignore his messages and try to forget this ever happened...

But even as I thought it, I found myself walking towards the bed, my hand reaching out for the phone. Just one more look, I told myself, my fingers closing around the device. Just one more peek, and then I'll put it away. I swear.

I unlocked the phone, my heart pounding as I saw the unread message from Franco. Don't open it, I told myself, my finger hovering over the screen. Don't do it, Y/N. Just put the phone down and walk away...

I stared at the screen, my finger trembling as I hovered over Franco's message. Don't open it, I told myself, my heart pounding in my chest. Just put the phone down and walk away...

With a shaky breath, I opened the message, my eyes widening as I read Franco's words.

“Please, baby.”

I hesitated for a moment, torn between my desire for Franco and my loyalty to Lewis. But even as I tried to convince myself, I couldn't deny the way my body responded to Franco's messages, the way my heart raced at the thought of sending more to him. Just one more picture, I told myself, my resolve crumbling. Just one more peek, and then I'll stop. I promise.

I pull my shirt up and over my head, letting it gently fall to the ground. I pick my phone up as I take a few tantalizing photos of my bare chest.

I hesitated for a moment, my finger hovering over the send button. This is crazy, I thought, my heart pounding in my chest. I'm really going to send him a topless picture?

I sat on the bed, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at the screen, waiting for Franco's response. I can't believe I just sent him a topless picture, I thought, my cheeks flushing with a mixture of excitement and shame. What if he shows someone? What if Lewis finds out?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Hey, sweetheart," Lewis called softly, his voice muffled through the wood. "Can we please talk?"

I froze, my eyes widening in panic. Oh god, he's here, I thought, my stomach twisting with dread. He's going to see me like this, topless and waiting for Franco's reply...

I scrambled to grab my tank top from the floor, my hands shaking as I tried to grab it. But it was too late. The door swung open, and Lewis stepped into the room, his eyes going wide at the sight of me. My hands drop the shirt, on the end of the bed on accident.

"Y/N, what..." he started, but his voice trailed off as he took in my state of undress. I could feel his gaze on my bare breasts.

I quickly covered my chest with my hands, my face burning with embarrassment and shame. I fully expected Lewis to be furious, to demand an explanation for why I was half-naked.

But instead, he just smiled and laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "What, you couldn't find a shirt in here?" he teased, his tone light and playful.

I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his reaction. "I... um..." I stammered, my mind racing to come up with an excuse. "I was just hot," I finally managed, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears.

Lewis's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face. "Hot, huh?" he said, his voice tight. "Funny, I just turned the AC up."

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. He knows, I thought, panic rising in my throat. He knows I was doing something, something wrong...

I could feel Lewis's eyes boring into me, his gaze intense and searching. I shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, my hands still covering my chest. He knows something's up, I thought, my heart hammering in my chest. He just doesn't know what.

"Come on, babe," Lewis said finally, his voice tight. "Let's go back to our room and talk, okay?"

I nodded numbly, my mind racing. Should I tell him the truth? I wondered, my stomach churning with guilt and fear. Should I confess to sexting with Franco, to sending him topless pictures?

But even as I thought it, I knew I couldn't. I couldn't hurt Lewis like that, couldn't betray him with the truth of what I had done.

"Okay," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

I reached for my tank top, my hands still shaking as I pulled it over my head. Lewis watched me, his expression unreadable. He knows, I thought again, my heart sinking.

I followed Lewis out of the room, my steps heavy and slow.

As we walked down the hall, I could feel the weight of my guilt pressing down on me, threatening to crush me beneath its heavy burden. I'm a terrible person, I thought, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I'm a liar and a cheat, and I don't deserve Lewis's love or trust.

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🙈😅 yikes. Lewis LEWIS HE KNOWS AHHHHHH … or does he? Hehe.

Next time Franco will be getting involved into some online drama 🙈

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