#( c. turner // wanted. )

[maddymoreau]

Commission by @b0ndagebunny-games

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

it occurs to me as I work on these character intro that the two guys who were supposed to be vaguely attractive but also not super attractive i have accidentally made look (in general characteristics) relatively similar

gods i have a fucking type don't i

[cara-turner]

tag dump;

( c. turner // interactions. ) ( c. turner // musings. ) ( c. turner // visage. ) ( c. turner // answered. ) ( c. turner // playlist. ) ( c. turner // aesthetic. ) ( c. turner // messages. ) ( c. turner // mun speaks. ) ( c. turner // starter. ) ( c. turner // memes. ) ( c. turner // wanted. ) ( c. turner // headcanon. ) ( c. turner // event. )

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Forbidden Fruit.

That’s the thing about Declan - he always gets what he wants. It might be wrong… but it feels so right.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. use of the c word. age gap. cheating. declan’s filthy mouth needs its own warning.

word count - 2.3k

authors note - that man is a munch and I cannot be convinced otherwise. my crush on aidan turner has returned tenfold and i’m about to make it everyone’s problem. read declan’s dialogue in that gorgeous irish accent of his for the full experience.

masterlist. inbox.

You’ve fake laughed so much this afternoon that you can’t remember what your real one sounds like.

Finally breaking away from a conversation with Freddie’s wife, you swan across the garden in your sundress towards the food and drink table. You absentmindedly pick at the strawberries, hoping and praying that no one bothers you for a moment. All you need is a minute to yourself, away from all of these faux smiles and boastful exchanges.

Reaching towards a raspberry, you feel fingertips ghosting across your back quickly.

“Y’alright?”

You’d recognise that voice anywhere, of course, and not just because he’s the only Irish man in The Cotswolds.

“Bored out of my mind, actually.”

“You’d never know.”

“I’m a good actress, these days. I’ve done one too many of these stupid garden parties.”

He chuckles all genuine and honeyed, and you’d be lying if you said the sound didn’t settle warmly in your bones.

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

He’s keeping his voice low, inconspicuous. You’ve both turned so you’re looking out over the garden, backs to the table, watching the crowds of people and their gossiping. To anyone else, it looks like an innocent conversation between two acquaintances. They can’t see his hand playing with the hem of your dress behind you, or the way his fingers keep brushing the backs of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.

“My boyfriend is coming over. You know that.”

“What time?”

You roll your eyes but answer anyway.

“Nine.”

“So what I’m hearing… is that you’re available from whenever this crap finishes until then?”

“That’s a stupid idea.”

“You usually love my stupid ideas.”

“Well maybe I’m trying to be smarter.”

He laughs with his full chest while you fight to keep the grin off your face, shaking your head.

“You’re already the smartest person here. Any smarter and we’re all doomed.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Declan.”

He pauses for a moment, pressing his side into yours and running his thumb across the soft skin of your thigh underneath your dress.

“I think we both know that’s not true, sweetheart.”

Your breath stutters as you will yourself to get it together, desperate to not repeatedly give in to his murmured promises and flirty remarks. It’s wrong. You know it is, both of you do, and yet…

“I want you gone by eight at the latest. I don’t need the two of you bumping into each other on my front step.”

He smirks like the cat that got the cream, looking down at you with lust drunk eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Promise to make it worth your while, yeah?”

“You always do,” you breathe out, so quietly that you’re surprised he hears.

He’s about to reply when you’re both startled by Rupert, striding over with the confidence of ten men and a bottle of champagne in his hand.

“Have they run out of glasses, CB?”

He slings an arm around your shoulder, laughing that rich man’s laugh right into your ear.

“Live a little, darling. Walk with me, will you? I have a story that might be worth your time, and I thought I’d bring it to my favourite journalist before anyone else.”

Rupert all but drags you across the garden, already chattering on about a scandal in the local constituency of the Conservative Party. You cast your eyes back to where Declan hasn’t moved, his gaze roving over your figure as you walk away.

He winks cheekily, dirty smirk slapped across his face.

You hate the way it sends electricity running through your veins in anticipation.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s six forty five when there’s a knock on your door.

The devil himself is standing on your front step, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Hi darlin’.”

His accent is like molten honey, golden and warm and laced with sweetness. There’s mischief running through it though - as there always is.

“Come on,” you urge, grabbing his tie and pulling him inside, worried that one of your neighbours will see.

He laughs as he shuts the door behind him, unphased by your urgency.

“Thought you had a meeting. CB was telling me all about it earlier.”

“Rupert would tell you anything,” he chuckles. “He’s got a soft spot for pretty girls.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you giggle, undoing his tie from around his neck and hanging it on your coat rack.

“No. I have a soft spot for one pretty girl.”

“Sweet talker,” you tease as you roll your eyes, undoing the first few buttons on his shirt. “How about you put your money where your mouth is, hmm? We don’t have all night.”

He clicks his tongue, hands finding your hips to pull you against him.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning in so his lips brush yours. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Less talking,” you scold, grabbing at his biceps to kiss him desperately.

Declan pushes you up against the wall, hips pressing into yours as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and whiskey and those mints he keeps in a tin in his back pocket. He scatters open mouthed kisses across your neck, licking across your skin and sucking the spot underneath your ear.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he mumbles. “Ever since I saw you in this dress.”

“You like it?” you breathe, head rolling to the side to give him more access.

“I fucking love it.”

“Good. Bought it for you.”

He groans, grinding his hips into yours.

“You’re a minx,” he pants, biting at your shoulder. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

With that, Declan wraps his arms around your middle, practically dragging you into the living room to throw you onto the sofa. He pulls your dress over your head, throwing it onto the floor with reckless abandon.

He instantly gets on his knees in front of you, spreading your legs with rough hands.

“Been waitin’ for this cunt all fuckin’ day.”

Your underwear is tugged down and discarded before you can blink, leaving you naked and high on the anticipation of it all. Your lungs are heaving, hands shaking as you will him to do something.

Declan sits back on his haunches, making a show of rolling up his sleeves. He looks so broad and commanding in his blue jeans with his shirt undone. He might be the one on his knees, but he’s definitely still in charge here.

You tangle your fingers into his dark hair and tug, pulling him closer.

“Please, Dec.”

“You sound so beautiful when ya beg.”

He grips your thighs tightly, ensuring they stay apart, as he leans in and presses kisses to any skin he can find.

“Don’t tease.”

“Or what, hmm? What are ya gonna do, sweetheart?”

“Stop it,” you chastise, head dropping back onto the cushions. “Please, baby.”

He chuckles before diving forwards, licking a stripe through your core. He wastes no time, tongue flicking over your clit like he’s done so many times before.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, fingers gripping his hair tightly. “Fuck, Declan.”

You’re convinced he enjoys this just as much as you do. He’ll eat you out for hours, never once expecting something in return - happy to feel you fall apart on his tongue again and again and again.

He knows exactly which spots will have you arching your back, how much pressure to use to have you writhing on the sofa cushions, where to put his hands to push you right over the edge. He can play you like a fiddle, observant and experienced.

His nose nudges your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, messy and wet and completely committed. The grip he has on your thighs is getting tighter and tighter, fingertips bruising your skin. You pray you’ll be able to see the marks when you look in the mirror tomorrow.

You’re teetering on the edge of your release, legs shaking and abdomen tightening. Declan can read you like a book, knowing exactly where you’re at - and taking advantage of it.

Just as you’re about to come, he pulls away and sits back, grinning like a deviant.

“No,” you’re panting. “The fuck are you doing?”

He laughs, leaning down to rest his head on your leg. He looks up at you with a gaze that’s half lust and half mischief, biting at his lip as he watches your chest heave.

“What do you want, darlin’?”

You pout at him, tears welling in your eyes.

“Come on, let me hear you say it. I want you to beg me to make you come. Tell me how you’ve been waiting for it all day, sweetheart.”

“I-Declan, I just-”

“Come on smart girl, use that big brain of yours. Why don’t you tell me all about how you think about me when you touch yourself? No - why don’t you tell me how you think about me while he fucks you?”

Your hips buck up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. Declan laughs cruelly, wrapping his arms around your thighs again to pull you to the edge of the sofa, the strength he exerts only turning you on more.

“It’s okay,” he soothes against your core. “You don’t have to tell me. Your dripping wet cunt tells me everything I need to know, darlin.”

All you can do is moan, breathing like you’ve run a marathon. All you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel is Declan O’Hara.

“If we had the time, I’d edge you some more. Eat you out until you cried. You always look so pretty when you’re crying f’me.”

He finally takes pity on you, curling his tongue inside you as his nose repeatedly bumps against your clit. He’s practically making out with your core, saliva dripping down your thighs and onto the sofa. You can’t bring yourself to care about the mess, more focused on the older man’s mouth and the skills it possesses.

You’re whining, fingernails digging into his scalp as you grasp for something to hold onto. He’s groaning too, having just as much as fun as you are.

“Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how fucking beautiful you look.”

Your back bows off the sofa as you grind against his face, riding out your climax. Your thighs tighten around his head, desperate for him to keep going for as long as possible.

“That’s it. Atta girl. There we go.”

You’re trying to catch your breath as Declan stands up, sitting down next to you and pulling you into his side. His fingers draw patterns on your hips, absentmindedly calming you down as you nestle into him, seeking out his body heat.

You lean up and kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth eagerly. He tastes like you, and the realisation makes you whinge.

“Let me return the favour, please,” you whisper against his lips.

“As much as I’d love that, darlin’… we can’t.”

You quirk a brow at him in confusion, his rejection more than unusual.

“It’s twenty past eight.”

“Oh, shit,” you groan, finding your underwear and pulling them up your legs.

“I wish I could stay,” he reassures as he kisses you again sweetly. “You know I do.”

You nod, running your fingers through his sweat soaked locks to move them out of his face.

“Promise I’ll repay you next time.”

“I’ll hold ya to that.”

The phone ringing startles you both, your heart jumping in your chest. You pick it up quickly, wrapping the cord around your finger.

“Hello? How are you? Ah, good. Yes, fine. Alright, I’ll see you then. Yes, see you soon. Mhmm… I can’t wait either.”

You put it down just as quickly as you picked it up, finding your dress from the floor and pulling it over your head.

“That was Patrick. He’s at the train station, about to start the drive back here. He won’t be long.”

“I best get going then,” Declan says as he buttons up his shirt. “Don’t need a family reunion in your living room now, do we?”

You shake your head, scoffing at his attempt at a joke. Walking him to the front door, you press his tie from the coat rack into his hand so he doesn’t forget it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I? You’re coming for lunch at the house?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you say as you lean up to kiss him, sighing at the taste of his lips. “I’ll wear that lacy white lingerie under my dress just for you.”

“Great,” he groans. “Now I have to think about my son seeing that on you when it should be me.”

“You might,” you tease, smoothing out his shirt. “There’s a lot of rooms in that house, Declan.”

“You’re a minx.”

He kisses you once more, big hands cradling your face as he pulls you in.

“See ya tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you will.”

You watch him go from your front step, making sure no one sees him leave. As soon as he’s out of sight, you’re shutting the door, trying to tidy the living room frantically. You open the windows, lighting a candle and picking up everything that was knocked to the floor in the lust filled frenzy. You’re covering your tracks as best you can, just like you’ve done countless times before.

You don’t need Patrick asking why the room smells like his dad’s aftershave.

You don’t need Patrick asking questions at all.

a little gift for you, as promised…

@do-it-for-kicks @whytheylosttheirminds @laverna-fanfictions @graceflorence

and of course, if you enjoyed this - throw me a little reblog if you so wish… help a girl out… <3

[notquiteahitman]

❛   now will you please sit on my face already ?   ❜   - From bad verse Becky to any of your girls 🥺

@apphrodite sent a meme I think I deleted, sorry!

Their friendship was perhaps a little unconventional, but there was nothing wrong with that, right? Sure, Becky was definitely far less shy and more brazen than Sophie was. She wasn't afraid to say what was on her mind or stand up for herself or be loud if she wanted to, and Sophie was perhaps almost the exact opposite. Looking at the pair, one might not expect them to be friends - but friends they were, and Sophie valued Becky's friendship immensely.

Sophie felt she knew Becky quite well by now, but those words had certainly come out of nowhere. They startled the redhead so much that she almost dropped the teaspoon she was holding, halfway through making herself a cup of tea. She turned around on the spot to face the blonde, her cheeks rapidly turning pink as she spluttered, entirely unsure how to respond yet somehow feeling rather flattered nonetheless.

"U- uh, I- um-" She swallowed, desperately trying to find some words that actually made sense. "I j- I don't- e- excuse me? What?" She hadn't intended to be rude, but... well, in all honesty, she wasn't entirely sure she had heard correctly.

[vyainide]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ౨ৎ monster trio & kissing

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

includingㅤ━ㅤmonkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, sanji vinsmoke

tag(s)&warning(s). drabbles, gn! reader, sfw, fluff?, what constitutes as fluff idk girl, established relationship w/ zoro and sanji, luffy is a secret third thing i guess?, stray 'kms' threat in sanji's part

from vyon. big up to alex turner and no. 1 party anthem; luffy's is marginally longer because he's my most specialiest boy and he deserves special treatment and i struggled way too hard with characterising sanji in a relationship aside from all the embarrassing simping stuff, he's just amazingly pathetic, i don't wna talk about it, the main star here is luffy

like a lot of other things, kissing comes easy to luffy. though he's never had any couples around him as he grew up, he's been on enough adventures to catch a number of couples share a few quick pecks here and there. sabo's once mentioned kissing as well— a sort of distant memory that comes back when your lips first land on his cheek on your supposed first date. it might be sabo's fault, or his parents, that luffy believes kissing to be bleugh before he's tried it. though in sabo's defence, there wasn't a child in the world that would want to see their parents kissing. still, it isn't as bad as sabo made it out to be, luffy thinks as his wide–eyed gaze follows you back onto the sunny. there's something in the shape of your lips sunburnt onto his cheek, crisp just underneath the scar he'd gotten as a child.

the old scar is a smudge between a burning hypersensitivity and a cold unfeeling stretch of skin; your lips brush against the scar and it tingles itself into simultaneous death and rebirth. burning, melting— luffy presses a hand against his cheek and feels full. then his lips pull into a grin and the burn of your lips spreads out, pushing through every fold of skin as his hand reaches out for the sunny and he flings himself into the air, allowing the feeling to crawl through sinew.

luffy is no stranger to touching— he does it in painstaking excess, but there's a childhood teaching in him that kissing is not the same as touching. he stares at nami for a while, wondering if the instinct to feel her is the same as it is for you; she gets annoyed by his unwavering stare and swats at his head. he decides it's a no.

kissing is meant to be con... consumption? conservative— constellation? no, it's one of those 'c' words that he doesn't really remember, but he knows that he's supposed to ask you if you want him to kiss you. he doesn't understand the idea of waiting for permission but he'd really hate it if you were grossed out, like ace once told him would happen if kissing happened unconventionally(?) (that's not right he thinks), so he asks you one day.

as simple as he gets, luffy comes up to you and asks. "do you want me to kiss you?"

you splutter in shock and you hear movements on the deck still. luffy thinks he'd maybe forgotten something that the people in foosa village taught him but he waits for you to answer anyways. it doesn't come because sanji is aiming a kick at his head and shouting at him about the delicate intricacies of romance and courting. through all the dizzying flips of colour as he jumped away from sanji's attack, a kaleidoscope of the things he loves the most (the sea, his ship, his crew) in his eyes, he sees the hesitant embarrassment that colours your cheeks in. the burn that you've placed in him sparking up a fuse between the two of you at the slip of his tongue against gums and he laughs, swinging away and crash landing on whatever usopp was building out of sticks.

you return to him at a more private time, slip up next to him wordlessly— he doesn't say anything so you fear that he'd forgotten.

"do you still mean it?" your shoulder knocks against his.

"mean what?"

you turn to look at him, your eyes flickering down. "when you asked if i wanted you to kiss me."

that gets his attention, his head turns to you with a flexibility only he has— his eyes blinking at you carefully. "i did, did you make up your mind?" his lips pulled up into a grin, "you want me to kiss you now?"

you wish he had a less abrasive way of asking, but the answer is the same regardless. you nod and luffy takes.

you're not sure what you're expecting at this point. you know how luffy is about psychical touch, he's no stranger to it— everything he's ever known, he's ran his hands over. the amount of times you've been knocked down to his reckless habit of flinging himself into your back, you expect the same thing here.

luffy inspects you for a moment, the corners of his lips pulling down before twitching into a pout, "it's not gonna hurt, silly, why'd you look like that?" he shifts his body to face yours, his knees knocking against yours as he pushes his face closer.

then, his lips stretch outwards— his damn devil fruit— and it's so comical how his puckered lips pulled towards you to press gently against your cheek that you're laughing when it snaps back into place. luffy laughs along with you for a moment. a gooey comfort strained inside of you, your hands pressed against his cheeks— you find a simple joy in pulling his face, and then you find a better joy in leaning yourself closer to press your lips against his.

you're giving so luffy takes. he shifts onto his knees for better leverage to lean into you— the movements are stiff and careless. he's less kissing you and more just pushing his face into yours but you can feel the strain of his smile against your lips so no matter. being luffy, he pushes and he pushes greedily until your hands move from his face to the deck to keep yourself from falling.

it's so stupid how, even though this sucks, you want to make an occupation of kissing him.

it becomes a habit for him to kiss you no matter how far away you are by taking advantage of his devil fruit. eventually, he does get better; you realise why after a pointed comment from robin that hints to the fact that he'd asked her for kissing tips.

zoro is all lingering touch, heated spaces, and fizzling affection. it's not often that he gives you the pleasure of being skin close with him— not that you mind. he's eye candy enough, grunting and sweating in a handstand with barbells methodically placed on his feet and boxes of miscellaneous supplies for added weight. he's never been the type to need the world in his life; everything he's done has always been to prove a sick something to himself, to his strength.

his devotion is similar. there's no place for prying eyes in your relationship when there's you, the fulfilling adoration, and zoro. sometimes, there is also his swords and other times, there is an overwhelming luffy (who knows no boundaries).

he's always more forgiving with you, but he draws the line at excessive pda and you respect that boundary. fleeting contact has never been zoro's strong suit, he's an all or nothing soldier so when it comes to kissing, he likes the ready privacy that allows him to indulge. so he ignores the pointed staring, how you've made yourself comfortable on the benches in the crow's nest; your body sprawled out following the curve of the seats as your face turns red from how you have your head hanging off the cushioned planks.

he grunted, turning his head back down to the floor before he loses his balance.

you start counting, "one, two, three." he's well past those measly numbers but he lets you do as you please. "four, five, one, three, sixty–five, twelve, two, negative five, twenty, fourteen, nine—"

he folds his legs down against his chest, letting the weights fall to the floor with a thud. "alright," he straightened up, "you've made your point." an unimpressed look crosses his face.

your lips curled up into a grin and then you pull yourself up, throwing his towel at him. he takes the hit to the face and presses his hand over the fabric to wipe away the sweat and falls next to you, sliding his body down for his head to lay on your thigh.

"ewwww," your face scrunched up, "you're sticking to me." his hair is clinging to his forehead, interrupted strokes of green paint against his temple.

"shut it."

a laugh is quiet on your lips as zoro falls into the comfort of the moment, his eye closing. you trace over his face and then you crane yourself down, ignoring the ache in your spine and neck, your lips fall onto his forehead, "one." you counted. then onto the space between his furrowed brows, "two," his nose, "three". over his eye, "four." you pull back just in time to feel his lashes scratch over your lips.

a heavy judgement in his eye, stern and serious— he curls an arm up to press against your nape and pulls you down. there's a weight that's tethering you to the moment in the curves of his arm and a light–headedness that makes the stillness burst at the seams as zoro ignites everything alive. it's a slow and careful thing, how his head rises to meets yours and then how it tilts so he can slide his lips onto yours.

his arm drags across your neck until you feel moisture in the contour of his calloused hand, fingers pushes into your hair as zoro leans back from your lips, humming. "five." he says, a whisper of a smirk on his lips. a flicker of tender violence in how he fists your hair at its base and pulls your head back to give himself access to your neck. all or nothing, you're reminded, he drags this kind of simple affection into long, several moments.

he continues counting, picking up where you left off until you both hear luffy calling for zoro to help him fish and your relationship mellows back down, protected in loud secrecy.

there's always a strange line to tread when it comes to sharing intimacy with sanji. he's the quickest to melt when it's passing pecks, a second touch of your chapped lips against his cheek.

it depends on the atmosphere of the moment. just as quick as you can puppeteer him to pliant stuttering, sanji is more than capable of wearing you down to your barest core with his appreciative methodical gestures.

what everyone else is most familiar with are the fast moments of sanji softening when you offhandedly touch him. a simple smile on your lips as he gracefully sets your plate down in front of you, ease in the way your head turns to face him and you give his cheek a grateful peck, a quick kiss against his lips when you're splitting ways upon docking on a new island. it's enough of a spectacle that luffy makes the same laughing racket when you kiss sanji casually to see him twirl with new founded energy and hearts in his eyes; that zoro has a trademarked insult ready on his lips whenever it happens; that nami owns a jar that sanji has to put money into whenever he starts his weird dance.

it's almost easy to forget how sanji reciprocates. love has always been a second language to him— it's burrowed in his every unhurried moment when cooking, it's a burn that drove an abscess in him when he was younger, it's straightened postures and the clean lines of his stature for every perverted thought that plagues him. his every move carries an echo, a drumming confession that rings i love you, i love you, i love you until the words are bleeding raw into each other and you feel undeserving in his passion that stinks of cigarette smoke.

the disturbance of the lit end against a clear canvas of blue skies, his arms folded over the handrails of the sunny, the strokes of grey smoke that taints the pristine clouds that rest languidly; a rigid lock on his features until you're brought to his attention with your shoes clicking against the deck. his face shifts into something more delicate— full of feeling that's different from his usual excitable manner.

"bad for you," you begin with a light–hearted scold, plucking the cigarette away from his lips. he turns to you, his back against the handrails.

his restless hands search for touch and find an answering comfort on your skin, turning up and down over the shape of your hips until his thumbs dig into the waistband of your bottoms. "don't," he pleads, "you know it kills me when you're disappointed."

your lips turn upwards, "should i cry?"

"please." his voice wavers between a weak warning and aching desperation as his head falls onto your shoulder, pulling you closer.

the smell of smoke is cauterised into his skin— you don't mind it and you don't mind him smoking, but you think it's funny to act like you do if it has sanji like this. his hair scratches against your skin, tickling an itch he'd placed in you long ago and you thread your straying hand into the strands as his fingers press demandingly into your hips. following your motion, sanji turns his head to look up at you.

a furrow in his brows and a plea in his eyes.

"you know i'm teasing," you lean down, pressing a kiss against his lips as an attempt to appease him, "but you know i'll have to kill myself if chopper comes and redirects his disappointment at me again." you sigh, weary at just the topic. "i mean seriously, he looks at me like i'm the one shoving cigarettes into your mouth and forcing you to inhale."

sanji tries to focus on your words but your lips have left him cold when you pull away; suddenly, being skin to skin isn't enough and he's trying to placate the greed that is curdling inside of him. it works for the better half of a second, his thumbs pull out of your waistband and his arms wrapped around you, one around your waist and the other dressed against your back.

he ducks his head down and settles his craving.

sanji is gentle all around, careful to make even his affections palatable. he starts slow, testing waters that he's skinny dipped in previously and when he finds no rejection, he moves in deeper. he's a lifelong hunger that can never hope to be satiated when close to you, unwavering in a promise that has wedding bells ringing deep in your bones.

there's a new memory of a life he wishes for you, brought to life and fed by the taste of you. for now, he has to pull away as the ship rocks into a tempestuous sea and panicked feet disrupt the echo of the bells. nami starts to shout orders. he pulls away. his heart stutters in time with the unpredictable storm. sanji trips over his feet on his way to pull up the sails and he starts twirling when it makes you laugh.

[umathurwin]

i know that you're doin' it all for me

rafe cameron x reader; nsfw 18+

Summary: Rafe loves his girl, and he’ll beat the ass of anyone who dares to treat her poorly—much to her dismay. He’s gonna do it anyways.

tags, warnings, and more on ao3!

Absolutely nothing feels better than listening to L$D by A$AP Rocky when you’re pretty fucked up and being driven home.

I’d rolled my sleeves up to my elbows and leaned my seat back, just enough that the A/C still hit my face. I only bought this car a few months ago, so the leather scent is still crisp hitting my nostrils. A prayer was sent to my past self for not taking that last tequila shot Kelce kept shoving under my nose back at the bar; I can tell that if I had, I’d be painting the inside of the passenger seat floor. It’s not even that getting a detail wouldn’t be worth it, I just don’t want this baby out of commission for even a day.

My eyes fell shut for a moment as the music switched to Tiimmy Turner. Not my favorite—I’m picky when it comes to throwbacks—but it’s a solid rule that I sacrifice aux when I’m not driving. I’m nothing if not a fair man.

I glanced over at my chauffer. She was unfathomably gorgeous tonight, resting her elbow on the window and nibbling at her thumb. Everything about her was so enticing, right down to her thighs, exposed by her short black dress riding up as she drove. I could feel my fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and grip at the flesh, to dive my hands close to the apex. It was so hard to keep my hands off her someti—

“We’re never gonna be allowed back there,” Y/N noted wistfully, pulling me out of my trance.

My nose started stinging right on cue. Oh, right. That’s why she was driving us home, and also why we’d already left in the first place. I chortled, dabbing at my nostril and pulling back a bloody fingertip. “No one bans a Cameron from anywhere, sweetheart.” I took out my handkerchief to wipe away the remains of the liquid dripping from my nose.

She sniffled. “Well, your dad is gonna be mad when he finds out what happened,” Y/N pointed out wisely and I glanced out the window. We were almost home, but I could feel she was taking her time to get as much out of the conversation as possible.

“I don’t give a fuck what he thinks,” I shrugged. “And you shouldn’t either.”

Her free hand went to the wheel where she flexed all her fingers. “Why do you always start this shit?”

I was glad she couldn’t see my involuntary smirk. “M’sorry, baby. You know how I get when I drink tequila.”

“Then we’re sending you to rehab,” Y/N deadpanned, braking at a stop sign a little more aggressively than necessary.

My eyes flew to the back of my head and I tugged the seatbelt out of where it had dug into my neck. “You know I couldn’t let him treat you like that,” I huffed. Honestly, I don’t even see where I went wrong.

***

My eyes were in slits the second I realized what was going on—which didn’t take long, since I’ve always kept an eye on her whenever I can. Weston, some jackass who’d gone to the only other private school in Figure Eight, was trying to get past Y/N by taking his sweet time and placing a hand on either side of her waist. It had only been a minute that I stepped away to get her a glass of water from the bar when I returned to this.

I didn’t even react before she recoiled. “Ew, don’t touch me like that.” Y/N wormed away from him, making my mouth tug up a little. Good, loyal girl of mine.

My joy did not last long. Weston reached out to grip her elbow and lightly tugged her back towards him with a smirk. I stepped between them, slamming the water glass down so hard it splashed on the counter. “S’enough of that, Wes.”

His lip curled into a sneer, looking me up and down and remembering who I am. “You? Since when are you a little White Knight? Mind your own.”

Red filled my vision. If I hadn’t been drinking all night, I would’ve growled out a “this is my own”. That wasn’t the case, so I simply connected my fist to his jaw. It’s usually a one-hit K.O., but Weston was tougher than I’d expected.

Look. I won’t lie. He got back up and had one good swing in on my nose. If Y/N wasn’t crying out before, she was now. The next few moments are a blur as I go a little, y’know, ape shit on his face until he’s on the bar floor and I’m still delivering blows.

The only thing that pulled me away was Y/N yanking at my arm to get me back to standing. “Goddamnit, Rafe!” she snapped.

Weston sat up on his elbows and turned his face to the side to spit out a mixture of blood and saliva to keep it from getting on his shirt. I guess he didn’t see the red splatters from my beatings on his chest yet. “Wait, you two know each other?!” he asked, words mangled by his swelling mouth.

“Shut up, Weston,” Y/N and I said at the same time.

A hand slammed on my shoulder and I didn’t have to look to know it was a bouncer. For one, because it felt like a baseball mitt, and two, because Weston himself was being dragged up to his feet by another bouncer, likely to be escorted out with me. In fact, the only person who wasn’t manhandled out was Y/N, who was permitted to walk out elegantly holding only her bag and the half-spilled water I’d brought her. Not much after that is clear other than Y/N ordering me to get in the passenger seat.

***

When my eyes fell to my lap, I saw dried blood flaking off my knuckles. Damn. Not wanting to think about the fight anymore, I reached into the center console and pulled out the cigarettes I rarely used, popping one between my lips. I cupped one hand around the white end and lit the stick.

She deserved a better answer. “I’ll fight every bastard in this town that doesn’t treat you well,” I muttered. The smoke slipped out of my mouth, and I could tell she wasn’t a fan, so I cracked the window. “And the ones that treat you too well,” I tacked on, watching the curls of smoke get sucked out of the gap.

Y/N sulked in the seat, hands falling from 10 and 2 to the bottom of the wheel. “Rafe, please.”

Even I felt a bit guilty. “What can I do to make you feel better, baby?” I take another rich drag from the cigarette.

“Stop fighting.” I snorted before I could stop myself. “I’m serious, Rafe. I’ll threaten you if I have to.”

My eyebrow shot up. “Threaten? You’re not very intimidating, sweetheart.”

I could see her knuckles clench on the steering wheel. “I won’t have sex with you for a week.”

This time it wasn’t a snort—it was a full-blown incredulous laugh. “Oh, right, right. You’re gonna tell me we won’t have sex for a week. Remember the last time you threatened that?” She did, judging by the way she adjusted herself. “You only lasted, what, a day and a half? You were so desperate I had to fuck you bent over a dishwasher.”

She didn’t respond at first. “It was a washing machine, actually.”

“Exactly,” I conclude, reaching up to ash the stick out the window.

Y/N was silent as she parked the vehicle in our long driveway. She left me in the car with the cigarette still burning in my hand. I licked my fingers and pinched the smoking end, climbing outside and lazily flicking it in the bushes. The gardener will get it.

By the time I caught up to her at the front door, she’d already dug her key into the lock and kicked her heels off, leaving me again in the foyer. “Baby, please,” I called after her.

“What, Rafe?” she responded, not turning back but dropping her clutch and phone on the valet table.

Now that she was taking a moment not moving away from me, I took her arm and twisted her body around to face me. With her body pinned between me and the edge of the table, I took a good look at her. Her gaze wouldn’t meet with me, but a quick glance downwards revealed she was visibly leaning into my body.

“Don’t run away from me, doll,” I shook my head. “If you’re upset with me, talk to me about it. Never hide from me.” I dropped down to kiss just below her ear.

She nodded slowly, and I could feel goosebumps erupt down her arms. “I just don’t want to see you hurt. I hate watching you fight.” Y/N’s hands finally reconnected with me, around my waist and up my back.

I hummed into her neck. “You’re not gonna see me hurt,” I reassured her before pressing my lips against her, hard. Our breaths mixed and our tongues danced until she was humming and pushing me off to stop. “S’wrong, baby?” I mumbled.

“You’re bleeding again.” I pulled away to get a look at her face, and sure enough, there was a red smudge just under her nose. My jaw hung slack as her hand slipped up to wipe away at the blood before dipping her fingers between her lips, cleaning off digits with her tongue.

“Christ, pet, I’m gonna wreck you.” I kissed her again, repainting her face with my blood.

Ignoring the pain in my nose was easy with the fucking noises she was making. Without separating from her, I guided us to the living room and sat her on the largest couch with the fewest pillows—I hated Rose’s style.

When I finally pulled away, she looked a mess. She was flushed, with swollen lips and dress straps slipping off her shoulders. I unzipped her and pulled the garment over her head—I knew she would have my head if I took it off roughly. She was only left in panties.

“You weren’t wearing a bra?” I asked, kissing her again.

“Dress was too skimpy,” she muttered against my mouth.

I’ll say danced on the tip of my tongue, but it stayed there in fear of upsetting her. Tonight wasn’t her fault by any means, and it’s not like I didn’t enjoy seeing her in those little black pieces.

My arms looped under her legs as I dropped down to my knees in front of the couch. I tugged her underwear off her legs before attaching my mouth to her cunt.

Her response was immediate, back arching and head dropping to the pillows behind her. She must not have been eaten by anyone before me, because no matter how many hours straight I spend between her thighs, she acts like it’s the first time anyone’s ever done it. Her fingers thread through my hair and push me down further and by all means, I let her. When we’re in this position, I’ll let her grind on my face and use me in any way she wants. Every spot I leave a smear of blood, I clean it right up, savoring the metallic tang mixing with her sweetness.

I started sucking on her clit directly, and it was almost too much for her. She tried pulling away, but I only softened my tongue movements and held her tighter. When she came, it was loud and echoing in the marble interior of this goddamn home and I thanked God we were home alone.

The only chance she got to recuperate was the time I spent unzipping my pants to pull out my cock and adjusting her on the couch. I turned her a bit sideways so we could both be on the cushions at once.

Slipping my cock in was too easy with how slick she was. Once I was fully sheathed inside her, I dropped down to kiss her again, silencing the gasps and moans that were pouring from her mouth.

Once I’d gotten into a rhythm of bottoming out and nearly entirely withdrawing, I took a good look at her again. Her hand was reaching back up behind her to grip the arm of the couch, probably to keep me from fucking her into the upholstery. Her tits bounced with every thrust, and her eyes were damn near rolling into the back of her head. I couldn’t just enjoy this view for myself.

“Wanna see the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life?” I asked, burying deep and holding there.

She blinked, focusing on my voice. Y/N’s eyes batted up at me innocently and she nodded without a word.

I scooped my arms underneath her, not pulling myself out of her until I’d carried her over to the large crystal mirror on our wall. I only stopped fucking her to spin her around—I slipped my cock back in her the second she was stable on her feet.

My fingers reached up to tangle through her hair, yanking it so that she had no choice but to watch herself get filled by me. I’d clearly started bleeding again during sex, since the blood stains were back with full force on both of our upper lips—only on opposite sides. I think my favorite part of the picture was her nudity and my lack—I’d only undone a few buttons on my shirt, and she was completely nude. All exposed, just for me.

“That,” I breathed. “Your face, streaked with my blood, twisted in pleasure by my bidding. If I could see you like this all the time, I would. I’d be inside you nonstop.”

She was clenching around me, and filthy words just poured from my mouth. “You think you could go a week without this? Without my cock filling this little hole? Not a chance,” I purred, meeting my thighs with the back of hers on that last sentence. “Fuck, such a good girl, no wonder everyone wants to look at you. They wanna know how it feels to stretch you out and make you shake. But only I get to know.”

“Cum inside me,” she blurted, hands dropping to the decorative table below her.

Oh, that was a treat. Y/N hated how it felt dripping out of her, so most of the time I got to paint some area of her body or another. But when she gave the green light on the few occasions that she did, I took it.

With my view and the permission to mark my girl from the inside, it was no surprise that I didn’t last long at all. The last thrust inside her must’ve been too deep, because she cried out just broken enough to not be pleasure-derived. I think an apology slipped out in my orgasm-babbling.

Things were very quiet as we cleaned up, gathering our clothes and heading to my bedroom without exchanging a word. She tried to run away and jump into bed, but I shook my head and pointed towards the bathroom. Y/N rolled her eyes at me but complied anyways. After she was done, I slipped in the restroom to finally care for my bloody nose, which appears to have been steadily leaking since the car ride.

The sight of the bloody tissues in the bin really cemented why she was so upset tonight. If I were in her shoes, and someone put a hand on her, I would likely end up going to jail that night. But she isn’t the fighter that I am, and I can see how that’s hard for her.

Joining her in the room, I found her buried under our linens. When she heard me, she turned around and reached one arm out as if to welcome me to the bed with her. I grinned stupidly, dropping down and pulling her into my chest.

God, I was so immensely lucky to have such a forgiving and understanding girl. We could still be fighting, but we’re not. Our limbs are entangled in the silk sheets just cool enough to allow the heat of touching, and I can feel her nosing in on my exposed chest. I love her so—

“Rafe?” Y/N whispered, just barely loud enough for me to make out over the hum of the A/C.

“Yeah, baby?”

“If we ever see Weston again,” she flipped around in my arms to spoon me, “you can beat his ass.”

[yenonnoff]

k. akaashi — page turner

pairing: akaashi x fem!reader (smau)

content: university au, oikawa x reader (here and there), fluff mainly, a hint of angst, profanity, suggestive, bad jokes/references, kys jokes, ooc!

synopsis: it's been 91 days since you last borrowed one of akaashi's most prized books. if he wants it back, he'll have to confront the supposed book thief, and the one who'll steal his heart.

a/n: updates vary!!! (very impulsive bc tmhtl is still priority ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ) + this is for when i need to get my life together but can't ↳ ♪ masterlist | rules | navigations ☆

OPEN : taglist! to be added, send an ask/dm/comment

⋆˙⟡

INTROS: choose ur fighter | captain save a hoe! | literature 165

C: 1. freaks & books

C: 2. what befalls liars

C: 3. stupid sidequests

C: 4. no wedding cake

C: 5. book renewal

C: 6. banishing rex

C: 7. y/n's downfall

C: 8. repaid debts ☆

C: 9. cockblocking 101

C: 10. a man's best friend

C: 11. like father like son

C: 12. k's longest day

C: 13. not always meant to be

C: 14. 2:00 am secrets

EPILOGUE: 15. here with you ☆

⋆˙⟡

second a/n: woo!!! im late to the party but happy 300 followers :D this is what i've been cooking up n its the perfect opportunity to release it (i feel like im forgetting smth also never trusting @kqbukimono again ignore the rly ugly banner it was done at 4am)

[rarepairdumpster]

Teacher Viktor AU Part 1

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: T C/W: Child Jinx, Mob Boss Silco, Implied Bribery, Anti-Police, Silco has certified DILF status

Thinking about Bring Your Parents To School Day, and tiny Jinx dragging Silco to school, thinking he's going to expound on the coolness of being a mob boss.

But instead he talks about boring pharmaceutical production and health regulations.

While Teacher Viktor appreciates the eye candy, he's like that sounds almost real but I'm definitely googling that later.

Silco ends his shpiel with "Any questions?"

About 10 hands shoot up.

Silco points at one and the kid blurts "Your face is so messed up. What happened to it?" 

(All 9 other hands drop)

And Silco smiles, eyes glinting, and crouches in front of the kid and says, pointing at his face "This is what happens when your boss ignores safety regulations at a manufacturing plant."

And all the other parents in the room are supremely uncomfortable.

"Any other questions for Mr Silco?" Viktor quickly asks to clear the air. 

When it stays uncomfortably silent, Viktor just gives Silco a sympathetic smile with his cane hooked in his elbow. "Thank you for coming in today. Give Mr Silco a round of applause."

The kids half-heartedly clap and the one cop in the room is eyeing Silco like Timmy Turner's Dad whenever Dinkleberg gets mentioned

Viktor thinks Silco was the most interesting parent tbh. The cop makes his skin crawl. The fireman is OK. But listening to all the accountants, etc, is like watching paint dry.

Silco just lurks in the back of the room, playing with his lighter, and smirks while the cop waffles.

"Dont do drugs. Stay in school. Crime is bad. I get paid to beat people up"

Silco absolutely makes note of all the mini cops

He can tell by their paw patrol school supplies

He can't muffle his scathing snort when one kid asks "Have you ever fired a gun while jumping through the air?!"

Viktor clears his throat and makes eye contact with Silco but still gives a soft smile.

this is his classroom and his policy is everyone is respectful and he will enforce it even if he agreed

Silco tips his head towards Viktor, an enigmatic smile on his face, and Viktor distracts himself with a quick sip from his cup of tea.

Jinx is new to this school (she's been expelled from 3 in the last 6 months already) and Silco doesn't want to make things harder for her, so maintaining a good relationship with her teacher is important to him.

Jinx likes this school.

Likes Viktor.

He always listens and looks at her drawings for her projects.

Not like those other mean, boring, stupid ones.

Viktor actually understands neurodivergence and different learning styles because he had his own struggles. He can tell Jinx is very smart and knows she has a lot of potential, she just hasn't had the right teachers.

The school board guidelines dictate that he isn't meant to encourage advanced progression because it tends to lead to students starting to ask questions the schools don't want to answer...

But Viktor has always been a rebel at heart. He absolutely guides and encourages her.

Silco hangs back when the class is dismissed, leaning against the back wall after everyone has left. (He sent Jinx to get her bag and coat)

Viktor looks up after gathering some papers together on his desk. "Ah, Mr Silco?"

"I simply wanted to say," Silco started, sauntering towards Viktor through the small row of desks, "I appreciate how well you seem to work with Jinx. She speaks highly of you." He smiles. "Trust me when I say that is wildly uncommon."

Viktor smiles back and feels a surge of affection for the girl in question. But an edge of understanding tightens the skin around his eyes.

"I understand she's had a hard time with other teachers, and other schools, but I find Jinx a delight to teach. A bit rambunctious, but she makes me think. I appreciate the challenge."

"I know she can be a handful," Silco says, picking up a small trinket from Viktor's desk that had been gifted by a student. "If you ever require any additional compensation, please let me know."

Viktor arches a brow.

"Are you offering me a bribe? A little odd for a pharmaceutical rep."

Viktor's lips curl into a little smirk.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of bribing you. Simply a little incentive if things seem too difficult."

Silco's face goes serious for a moment. "I know what teachers make and I don't want something as silly as money to be the reason you're unable to teach my daughter."

"Silly," Viktor repeats, perhaps a little wistful. And then he chuckles. "As social constructs go, it's a pretty critical one."

"And I'd rather you didn't worry about it so you can focus on teaching," Silco explained. "I can see you're a very talented and intuitive teacher. Most aren't like that. Mine certainly weren't."

"Nor mine." Viktor tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. "I was a lot like Jinx growing up. More advanced than the others, with a lot of different needs. I'm glad I can be the one to help her."

"Then allow me to help you," Silco offered. "I don't expect you to ask for anything now. Just if the need arises. Along with your salary, I also know the school's budget, and I'm sure your class isn't seeing much of it."

"You know the school's budget?" Viktor's brows shoot up and then he laughs. "You're a resourceful one, aren't you?"

"I know a lot about what goes on in this city," Silco smirks. "I assumed you already caught on to that"

Viktor's cheeks tinge with pink and he laughs again.

Before he can respond, Jinx comes racing out from the cloakroom, tripping over her coat and the strap of her bag, but somehow managing to remain upright.

With a flick of his wrist, Silco produces a card and sets it gently on Viktor's desk.

"I'm simply a phone call away," Silco reminds him before he herds Jinx out of the room and to their waiting car.

Part 2

Arch + Woods

[duckprintspress]

Celebrate J.R.R. Tolkien’s Birthday with 54 Queer Fantasy Books!

Today, January 3rd, is J.R.R. Tolkien Day—the day we celebrate the legend’s birthday. It’s hard to imagine the fantasy genre without Tolkien’s influence on it. That’s why, we figured, what better way to celebrate than by having an adventure with an awesome fantasy book? And, as this is the first time we’ve done a queer fantasy rec list, our reccing crew got very excited, with the result that this is one of the longest lists we’ve ever posted. We asked our contributors for great queer, fantasy recommendations, and boy, did they deliver! We collected a list of whooping 54 titles, all thanks to Sanne, Kelas, Shadaras, Nina Waters, Shea Sullivan, E. C., Adrian Harley, Alex, D. V. Morse, Zel Howland, Shannon, Dei Walker, Linnea Peterson and an anonymous contributor.

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Fire Logic by Laurie J. Marks

The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected in Water by Zen Cho

The Black Tides of Heaven by Neon Yang

The Angel of the Crows by Katherine Addison

The Witch King by H.E. Edgmon

Legendborn by Tracy Deonn

Witch King by Martha Wells

The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

Heaven Official’s Blessing by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

The Witness for the Dead by Katherine Addison

The Husky & His White Cat Shizun by Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou

Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner

Devil Venerable Also Wants To Know by Cyan Wings

Ruin of Angels by Max Gladstone

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows

Call Down the Hawk by Maggie Stiefvater

Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell

Ash by Malinda Lo

Shubeik Lubeik by Deena Mohamed

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street by Natasha Pulley

Rust in the Root by Justina Ireland

A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske

A Master of Djinn by P. Djèlí Clark

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

The Monsters We Defy by Leslye Penelope

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

Little Thieves by Margaret Owen

Siren Queen by Nghi Vo

The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez

The Ruthless Lady’s Guide to Wizardry by C.M. Waggoner

Reforged by Seth Haddon

The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson

Luck in the Shadows by Lynn Flewelling

The Bone Doll’s Twin by Lynn Flewelling

Umineko: When They Cry by 07th Expansion

The Will of the Empress by Tamora Pierce

Witchmark by C.L. Polk

Lord of Eternal Night by Ben Alderson

These Witches Don’t Burn by Isabel Sterling

The Brilliant Death by A.R. Capetta

Consort of Fire by Kit Rocha

First Test by Tamora Pierce

Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea by Rebecca Thorne

The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner

Hench by Natalie Zina Walschots

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Weak Heart by Ban Gilmartin

The Shepherd’s Crown by Terry Pratchett

Six Of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett

The Demon’s Lexicon by Sarah Rees Brennan

What are your favorite queer fantasy books?

You can find all these books on our Goodreads bookshelf of queer fantasy books.

Did something here spark your curiosity? You can buy it through the Duck Prints Press Bookshop.org affiliate shop. 

So many books means so much to talk about! Come, join our Book Lover’s Discord server to chat with us about aaaaaall the books!

[thedeviltohisangel]

For A Fortnight There We Were (One Shot): It Fit Too Right

a/n: welcome to my all the things i did metaverse. please meet evelyn, a hollywood a-lister who falls in love with her co-star callum turner while filming masters of the air. this will most likely be a request based series so send them all in! would also love to flush out this relationship more with you guys through asks and chats. let me know what you think!!

He stood in the doorway of their hotel suite with a smile as he watched one person tug the corset of her gown tighter, another brush powder across her cheeks and a third place her hair over her shoulder in a meticulous manner. 

“I promise we’re almost done, baby.” 

“Don’t rush perfection on my account,” he said with a smile as he took a few steps into the room. “Let me help, love.” Callum grabbed the pair of heels from her stylist and dropped to one knee, Evelyn steadying herself on his shoulder as he slipped on one shoe and then the other. He kissed up her leg for good measure as she giggled, standing with a matching smile as she pulled him in for a kiss.

“People might get the wrong idea. You being on one knee like that.” In reality, he was just waiting for her to say she was ready and he’d be on one knee with a ring in hand in an instant. 

“The right idea you mean.” Evelyn blushed as her team began to filter out of the room. There was always a moment before every event that the two of them wanted time to themselves. They had gotten used to picking up the tempo for when it was arriving. “One day,” he followed up with a whisper. 

“One day. Soon.” He felt something blossom in his chest at her words. “Help me with my necklace?” The gold chain held a dainty C charm and fit perfectly snug around her neck as he clasped it securely.

“Gave you this necklace almost two years ago. So much has changed since then.” Yet so much had also stayed the same. They were still in each other’s orbit, circling the sun together and happy to live in this pattern for the rest of eternity. 

“And we finally get to show the world our love story.” Callum wrapped his arms around her from behind and they swayed gently to the song playing in his head. “Tracy told me there’s already stories lined up about the timeline of it all. About the overlap of still being legally married and filming the show and meeting you.” Her publicist warned her as soon as the premiere was scheduled that all the questions were going to get dragged up again. The accusations and the whispers of infidelity.

“I know the truth and you know the truth, Ev. That’s all that fucking matters.” The truth was that her marriage was a disaster the entire last year. The fights about his job and her job and fertility issues and the occasional bump of coke all mixing into a toxic sludge she was still working her way through years later.

“You’ll punch anyone who asks on the carpet or on the press tour?” She looked at him over her shoulder. 

“With a smile on my face,” Callum answered with a pucker of his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Begrudgingly, she untangled herself from his arms and interlocked their fingers together in its place. He squeezed tight as they took the elevator down to the lobby with their security, her other hand wrapping around his wrist for two anchor points at the sight of the paparazzi waiting for them on the sidewalk. 

“Evelyn! Callum! Look to the left!

“To the right, guys, come on a little smile please!”

“Callum, how about a kiss?”

His hand landed on the small of her back as he helped her into the waiting SUV before sliding in next to her. Evelyn collapsed as the door shut. “Fucking brutal,” she muttered.

“I’m hoping they get what they want at the carpet and they can leave us alone when we get back tonight.” He reached for her hand and held it in his lap. “What are my lanes in the road for touching you tonight?” 

“Are you feeling particularly handsy tonight, Mr. Turner?” she asked with a smirk as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed across each knuckle. 

“That dress is an inspiration.” She leaned in with a giggle and kissed him square on the mouth. 

“Then make sure everyone there tonight knows that.” His eyebrows raised on their own accord. 

“Yeah? You mean that?” Normally, she was much more reserved. Making him settle for longing stares and soft, hidden smiles and subtle allusions to each other. She hid from all the attention and let her work speak for itself. 

“Maybe…maybe the part of me that always wants to hide should work on healing herself tonight.” It also had been a piece of homework from her therapist this week. 

“Okay. Okay, yeah, we’ll work on it tonight. Together.” 

“Together,” she reiterated as he kissed her hand again and then her lips. 

“You make me so happy. No matter what.” 

“You make me happiest,” she laughed as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and left a few kisses there. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

----

The ride was over all too quickly, the SUV idling at the start of the carpet and the sounds of muffled screaming and yelling reaching their ears instantly. Ever since their relationship had been made public, there had been attention on them like neither had ever experienced. 

She had been called a cheater, he had been called a social climber. Accusations of adultery and a months-long affair behind her husband’s back and questions on how valid Callum’s feelings could be as a less well-known star than her. Hell, Howard Stern had straight up asked her on his radio show how it felt to have power over the person she was in a relationship with when she had been so powerless previously. Callum certainly hadn’t taken kindly to the implication. 

Quarantine had been the perfect bubble for their love to take root and flourish. Had insulated them from the outside world as long as possible and allowed her walls to come down. They were built up so high after her failed marriage. Reinforced as her mind worked through the mental fuckery of falling in love with your co-star. Evelyn hadn’t known where she began and the character ended for the longest time but she knew in her heart she wanted to figure it out with him. 

The roar reached a fever pitch as Callum stepped out of the car, buttoned his jacket and waved to a group of fans on the side. He waited for her, watched her take a deep breath and square her shoulders before she took his outstretched hand and stepped out of the vehicle. 

Her movie star smiled flitted across her face easily as their fingers interlocked and her own hand raised in a wave before letting her boyfriend slot his lips against hers to the delight of the camera flashes. 

“Let’s do a couple autographs before interviews.” Her publicist gently pressed on the small of her back to guide in the direction of glossy photographs and posters and an endless sea of markers.

Evelyn smiled warmly as she let go of his hand and began to scrawl her name across various posters of her in Targaryen garb or an old military uniform or the occasional photo she had taken with a fan previously that they were now adding her penmanship to.

“Can I get a selfie?”

“Yeah of course!” She smiled with as many fans as she could and let them take a few photos to choose from before she was getting the signal it was time to keep it moving. “Thanks for coming!” Evelyn blew a few kisses to the crowd before Callum had her hand right back in his for the ensuing carpet walk. 

“Ev, you want to go first?” Tracy asked as she was beginning to urge her to the first photomark. She hit the X and did her best to look at the cameras like she wanted to fuck them. Those were normally the only shots that kept their hunger sated and kept from yelling too explicitly at her the rest of the night. 

She looked over her shoulder and watched Callum smile and show off his suit like it was second nature and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to look at the photos later to see just how in love she was in this moment. He took her extended hand with a mischievous smile, falling in love all over again with this side of her that he knew well but she kept hidden from the outside world. 

“Let me get the two of you looking to the right!”

“Put your hands on her, mate!” “Look right at the camera with a smile, Evelyn!”

Callum furrowed his brow and wrapped his arm around her waist a little tighter as they kept fighting for a piece of them. They had both worked so hard to keep this one corner of their lives sacred and private but they couldn’t stay that way forever. Especially when they were trying to promote the show that brought them together in the first place. 

“You good?” he asked, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“Hold my hand the rest of the carpet?”

“Of course, love.” Their eyes stayed locked together as he kissed the back of her hand and they made their way towards the first interviewer. 

“It’s so good to see you guys again!”

“It’s good to see you too! It’s been a minute,” Evelyn replied.

“Last time I saw you, Callum, you were with George Clooney which is a hard interview companion to top-”

“Oh, I’ve done it. This one’s my companion for life.” She couldn’t help but blush at his forwardness. “This show brought so many beautiful people to my life and introduced me to this incredible story of these men and the sacrifices they made for us but I’ll never be able to articulate what meeting this woman and falling in love with her has done for me and the honor that has truly been.” 

“This is why my team is always trying to keep us separate in front of a microphone because we always get a little in our feels about each other.” Evelyn rested her cheek against his chest.

“Tell me about that. You guys film this show and feel some vibes and then the premiere gets delayed for two years. Does this add to the nervousness or does it add to the excitement?”

“Definitely both,” Evelyn teases, “the characters are real people, real heroes, so there is such a desire to make sure the story is told in the most accurate, thankful way. Part of making sure that happened was fully devoting ourselves to the relationship between these two and to discover something real in the process was a really happy accident.” Her hand rested on his cheek and he kissed her palm, looking at her like she was the only girl in the entire world. For him she was.

“We had the opportunity to meet their children and grandchildren which was such a blessing because on paper I was skeptical, it seemed written for the movies, but they had letters and pictures and stories that really showed these two loved each other in a magical way their entire lives.”

“And what’s next for you two? I hear rumors we may see you, Ms. Shaw, in a movie about sand and worms…” Evelyn laughed. 

“I hear Austin Butler loves worms so you should ask him. I know nothing about a movie with those themes.” She mimed sealing her lips and throwing away the key. The interviewer looked to Callum for help.

“Hey, I know even less than you do. This one’s a steel trap.” 

“Alright, I’m getting the signal that the most in demand people on this carpet tonight are needing to move along. Have the best night ever you two!” They both offered their thanks before a team of security and assistants collapsed ranks around them as they moved down the carpet. 

“How’d we do, Trace?” Callum asked as he swung their interlocked hands back and forth. 

“You were on your best behavior. Thank you.” Evelyn was a typical client for a publicist. Did good work and got high profile projects, never caused controversy in an interview but had some skeletons in her closet. Evelyn always did exactly as she asked and took her advice as gospel. Her boyfriend on the other hand was all boisterous and laughed and sang and had not a care in the world. He wanted to hold her and kiss and let the whole world know he was in love with her and scream it from the rooftops. 

“I see Mr. Butler!” Evelyn pointed directly ahead to the tall blonde man taking photos with Barry. “Oh, and Barry! I haven’t seen him recently enough to ask about bathwater.”

“Look who it is! My first and second wheel!” Austin lifted her up and spun her around before greeting Callum. “You two walking together?” While he was very familiar with their PDA behind closed doors, it was rare to see it out in the open. 

“This is as close to her accepting a proposal as I’m gonna get, mate.” Ev rolled her eyes and turned to get in between them for the row of photographers currently screaming at them. She is safe in between the two of them. Had needed every ounce of it when she had arrived on set all those years ago. 

She knew Callum had a ring tucked away somewhere safe. Knew he was dying with every passing day to make things between them official forever. She meant soon when she had said it earlier. 

Evelyn looked up at him as the camera continued to blind her and she tuned them out. She smiled and he smiled right back. “I love you,” he whispered so it existed just between the two of them. 

“I love you, too. So much.” 

Yes. Soon indeed.

[neighbourhoodspidey]

gn reader and taissa turner

a/n: half of this was written while feeling lightheaded on the plane in my notes app but i was listening to “the days” by notion and felt inspired so it is loosely based on that. i also wanted to write something concerning taissa. i’ll kept it light but it’s also inspired on what van told taissa about her being gay and the internet’s reaction to it, and the complications of being a gay woc in the nineties. this one is a bit new compared to all of the other things i’ve ever written so good luck enjoy reading leave any feedback spam random facts and letsgooo

w/c: 3.7 ish k words. like it was close to 3.700 (i still don’t know how to correctly indicate word counts)

warnings: implicit discussions of homophobia and identity in the nineties, angst and comfort. proofread but not exactly. if i missed anything please let me know, i don’t watch to butcher up a serious issue such as this one.

If an infestation of rats were to happen you would be relieved, instead of having to see your technically ex at the reunion.

You didn’t even wanted to go in the first place. Your friends insisted with good hearted intentions and slight guilt tripping that you could catch up with everyone. And that’s the part that you were afraid of. This “everyone” could be the person who quite literally broke up with you before they left you. Their words were harsh, like an unexpected slap to the face. Words that you’re sure, would have never crossed their minds, but of course ego and pride got in the way. It’s ridiculous to feel that way considering you’re years older now, with all the emotional heartbreaks and experiences you’ve got, but what pains you the most is the foundation of your hurt. You just wanted to know why.

And right now besides a rat infestation you wished someone would be ridiculous enough to pull the fire alarm so that you could leave because they might— will cross paths with you. On the bright note you did a good job at hiding, leaning on the wall at the far end of the reception and staring at the crowd as they mingle.

Until speeches were announced and your friends spotted you, pushing you forward to the crowd. You were told to try to leave your personal drama aside and try to pretend to be supportive. Tried was the word you kept in mind because when all the Yellowjackets took the microphone, and she was the one to speak, you really couldn’t stop yourself from being petty, secretly scrolling on your phone underneath the table. As if she’d cared if you looked at her anyway. You doubt she’d recognise you but you recognised her. You always would recognise those sharp eyes that uncovered your vulnerabilities, the soothing voice that helped calmed your hyperactive brain during finals. She has grown into a beautiful person and that was undeniable.

Taissa Turner was pragmatic and logical. It tended to carry over her emotional side at times but it was not in any harmful, at least that’s what she thinks. Her words nearly fumble as she speaks, noticing you on the table, seated a couple rows afar from her. You were with your close set of friends from high school, ones she always heard of and hung out with after her games, after your many invitations and reassurances that they “wouldn’t suspect a thing.” It’s ironic how now, they must know everything about her. Even certain incidents among many other things.

Her speech did not last long, thankfully. She went back to sit with her own group, each focused on their own worlds. No one notices what is happening in her mind, no one sees the way she looks at you and no one even knows who you are. For a minute she wonders if she could use that to her advantage so that she could at least say hi to you. But there are so many questions running through her mind, do you hate her for what she has done? For what she has said? Would you hate her if she told you that she moved on as soon as she stepped foot into the wilderness but not without a heavy heart? Would you cry if she told you that it was Van who helped picked up the pieces that she wilfully destroyed and let go of?

In any case you looked like you really didn’t want to be here, picking on the papers of the table napkins, resting your cheek on the palm of your hand. Your expressions haven’t changed at all from when you were younger. Seeing you here makes her heart flutter dangerously. It’s not unexpected. Every ex-Wiskayok High student was bound to be here but you felt like a ghost of her past. One that she chased away but in her defense she had her reasons. Fear was one of them. Fear of everything. It’s not that she needed to explain it to you but she could’ve at least done it in a more rational and mature manner. That was admittedly, her mistake.

She’s already lost you once and she won’t lose you again. So, standing up, though with trembling legs, she makes her way towards your table, hoping she could find a way to interrupt your friends' conversation.

“Hello.”

At her voice your head instantly springs up and the whole world stops for a split second. Your friends don’t seem to register how you’re crumbling and are seconds away from ignoring her, pretending as if you don’t know her but you can’t because everyone heard her.

“Hey.” You decided to settle with a simple greeting, not wanting to get into much.

“Hi! You look really familiar, by the way.” But Marley has other ideas. “Wait it’s Taissa! Or should I say Senator Turner?”

You wished this entire table could swallow you entirely right now. You can’t be annoyed at her fangirling but still, if only she knew.

“Let’s not act like crazed fans and keep a respectful approach. Congratulations on the win, Taissa.” Flynn is neutral and truthful. Nice, Flynn. “I think someone else in this table shares our opinion. Aren’t you going to say anything about our Senator? You always hyped her up during class debates.” Flynn nudges your shoulder and you know you’re already pushed in the pit.

“Sorry about that. It’s just nerves, you know how I get when I meet people I haven’t seen in a while.” The phrase holds a double meaning. No one besides her picks up on it. You smile raising your glass in a toast. “Congrats to being Senator. I think you’ll do a lot of great things.”

“Thank you. It wouldn’t be possible without all of your contributions but let’s put that aside, we’re not here for that.” You watch as she finds a seat, facing you. You almost admire her brazenness, how she subtly won’t let go even after reading the room.

You thank Flynn for being the most observant of the group, his eyes flickering between you and Taissa. With one hand squeezing yours he raises his eyebrows in a question, to which you nod.

“Well…we’ll leave you two alone. We know you have a lot to catch up on after…after everything. You and your friends have our best thoughts in mind, Taissa.”

“What but she just got here we aren’t going to—“

“Let’s get jello shots while they talk, alright?” He hushes, a hand on her shoulder. Thank you Flynn but also at the same time no thank you because then that means you’ll be left alone with her.

“Right. Right. You and your team are incredible people. We wish nothing but the best. Take care.” She rushes out, getting up as he leads her away from you.

With one awkward wave you were left alone with her. Eyes looking everywhere but her.

“So…Senator Turner, huh?” You eventually uttered. Not after taking a sip of your water, wishing it was something alcoholic because this is something you can’t handle sober.

“It has a better ring to Class President Turner.” She quips. The subtle hint of sarcasm brings a warm to your chest, another trait you always liked…no. Loved about her.

“You were scaling the marches of success since day one. It’s impressive, honestly.”

“Thank you, but no more shop talk.” She wants to say. But knows she can’t. The only rightful thing she could do for the moment is let you control the conversation. Even if she felt your wish to escape. “Thanks. I…you…well. Are you up to anything?”

“Uh…nothing much. I’m an anthropologist professor now, so…

“That’s interesting. You always were into that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, I was.”

Your answers were short, not rude, but short enough for her to implicitly know you’re slightly put off.

“In any case congrats to having had your dreams as your job.”

“Thank you. We’ve said this a lot but uh…congrats to you, too.”

It’s not like she needed to hear it. But you still felt proud of her, genuinely.

“Maybe one day I’ll invite you to one of our ceremonies.”

“Maybe.”

The next few minutes were agonising. The silence was straining and just as she works the courage up to apologise, a blonde with short curly hair—Misty, you think walks at her side.

“Hi! me and the girls are calling a nightcap. And Caligula must feel lonely so I’ll be headed with them. You’re coming with?”

Please say yes so we can get this over with, please say yes so we can get this over with.

“Uh…no. No, no. I’m staying here. With a friend.” She points at you. Misty turns around and beams brightly, so much so that you feel blinded.

“Hey there. I haven’t heard of you but I think you know of us already.” She snorts, adjusting her glasses and looking as if she’s just told the world’s biggest inside joke.

“Right, Misty. I’ll um, I have some things to take care of, here.” She looks pointedly at you as just you’re about to get up from your seat and dash out of here. Her time reaction is scary and honestly impressive.

“Hmmm I should get a move on, then. But if there’s anything you know what to do. See you later Taissa and Taissa secret friend.” She waves after looking at you suspiciously. Whatever that was about. You don’t hold it against her, you would also think everyone who talks to you has an ulterior motive after being involved in a national incident.

“So are you just here because you feel guilty?” The words abruptly leave your mouth, out of nowhere with no context. Hurt and confusion flashes her eyes before it is replaced by stoicism.

“I’m here because I wanted to see you. I mean, I…look. I know I had many opportunities to see you before but I never had the right time. And now I do.”

You’ve seen many sides of her but this was new, or rather unfamiliar. Her eyes are pleasing, hands reaching for yours at the table. And just like that all the feelings that you’ve pushed down years ago are rushing back.

“I still have your gifts, you know. Your bracelets, your bandanas, your rings. All of them.” What’s the use in saying that you don’t have the slightest of ideas. But you like to think it’s a starting point of a discussion. “They’re in this box. I almost burnt it, the day you told me to leave you alone. Because it felt so cruel that I felt the need to be petty.”

She doesn’t say anything, giving you the ground to speak. Your eyes were watery, but you weren’t backing down from anything.

“And I thought that was not cruel enough so I decided to block you out from my brain but that’s useless, now.”

“I…”

“Please, let me…let me speak.” You gently interrupt her, avoiding her gaze because you are sure your eyes won’t just well from tears. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It was another time. Our situation was difficult at the time and people back then would strip every single layer of our identity and make you out to be someone that’s weird and depraved. I know that. That’s not why I was…why I am angry. It’s because of your words, Tai.”

Her heart flutters at hearing you use her nickname and simultaneously breaks because she knew what you meant. Harsh words spewed at your way, demanding that you just leave and forget her, that she has other things to focus on.

“I would never hold it against it you for being afraid but…I don’t know. At the same time I can’t erase what you told me.”

She felt her own eyes welling at the sound of the crack in your voice. Your shoulders were slumped, eyes laser focused on the table, your body shaking with each breath you take. She’s transported for a moment, back to the days where you would be more vulnerable around her, where she wouldn’t hesitate to hold you in her arms in the safety of her room.

“I…I can’t erase what I’ve said…did to you. But…but I can make it right.”

“It’s been twenty five years. It’s all gone now, I just…seeing you here just brought back a wave of memories.”

“It’s not like I could avoid you in the sea of old classmates in a high school reunion anyway” You wanted to add but you knew now was not the moment for bitter comments. “There’s nothing you— we can do to make things right anymore. We were just teenagers and…that’s all there is to it.”

“But I hurt you.”

“I know…I mean…I don’t know. I don’t think it was on purpose—”

“And…I should’ve sent you a letter, anything—“

“I wouldn’t have bothered answering back or reading it.”

“Then what there is you want me to do?” She was bordering desperation, hands reaching for yours on the table. The music was getting louder, laughter, and people dancing about contrasting with your moment, and you’re reminded where you were.

“I just want to get out of here.” You stood up, not registering anything, your body moving on autopilot. Taissa is right behind you, taking her coast and purse as she speeds up to follow you outside.

Marley spots you leaving and Flynn holds her back.

“They’ll work it out.”

“How do you even know what’s it about?”

“The yearning and longing is spotted from here. We’ll have a call if there’s any trouble.”

They watch you as you leave, emotions unreadable, with Taissa mirroring your actions.

“Good luck to them.”

—

“You don’t have to own me anything but could you at least let me drive you home? Since you seem to have left your friends behind and…”

“What for?” You decided to humour her, even though you know this could only lead you to a spiral of profound sadness. “And how do I know you didn’t drink?”

“I didn’t take anything with alcohol and it’s late. I would rather see you come back home with someone you trus…you know.”

Do you really know her, though?

You spend a couple of time ruminating her sentence in your head, looking back at her. You think it’s unfair that she’s pretty and that in this moment you’d do anything she’d ask of you.

“Fine. But we’re going straight to my place. Got it?”

“Understood.” She tries to keep a neutral tone, not showing too much of her relief.

The walk to her car and the drive is done in relative silence. Not an uncomfortable one like before but something that is more…tolerated. You only spoke to give her your address and she tries to resist the urge to save it in her history and memorise it.

Soft music was also played, helping keep the atmosphere at a relatively normal level.

But of course, they had to play the sappiest of love songs out of all the other nights. You shook your head, adjusting your seatbelt as you tried to not let the embarrassment get to you. But she sees you and ties to hold back a laugh, finding your mannerism adorable in spite of the current mood.

“I thought you loved this song.” It was risky for her, to say such a witty comment, but you seem to bear no mind, too focused on trying to hide how awkward you feel.

“Not now, I don’t.”

“I remember someone telling me they would play this song ‘no matter the context’”

“I kinda regret pronouncing those words.”

“If only younger you could see yourself. You were so hooked on the Pretty Woman soundtrack I had to ban you from playing that song.”

“It was a perfect song for a good movie so I don’t know what you were on about.” For the first time in this evening you’re at ease, engaging playfully, not sarcastically. Maybe it’s because you know there’s no way to escape but it’s nice to think of nonetheless.

She turns up the volume, making your head turn at her. She can’t control her smile anymore, even chuckling as you hide your face in your hands.

“You know it doesn’t sound too bad after not having listening to it for a while.”

“A little too late for that…” You grumbled, but not cruelly. Even if what you just said might have many implications.

As you tell her to stop she looks around your neighbourhood. Simple, quiet. A decorative mailbox that you always talked about wanting, a few porch steps. She wonders what the inside of your house looks like. If it’s decorated to your comfort, to what you’ve imagined. She remembers whenever you’d have conversations like this it would make her wary of her future but you always reminded her that it’s uncertain where you would go so the only thing you could do is dream about it for a while.

“Do you…do you still think about the days times when we would hang out at that diner place after your soccer practices?”

Your question was unexpected and it threw her off, her mind putting a stop to a series of what ifs. She pauses and sighs, looking at you, only to see you were looking right back at her. She can’t bring herself to not answer you. Not when you momentarily break her gaze blink back your tears, not when your hands are trembling.

“You would always be twenty minutes early and I’d scold you for having wasting your time just to wait for me.”

“Waiting for you was never a waste of time.” Her breath hitches at your words as she nods, wishing she could just finally hold your hands in hers. “When we first hung out, I always thought it was one-sided. Like I was the only one who liked us being…us.”

“It was never like that, I— I liked you. Loved you. So much that…so much that you were special to me, it was just…”

“I understand, I—”

“And I can’t take back what I said or what I did, I know that. You were— are special to me and that I…I was always thinking about you. About the love I felt, about those posters you’d give me for my games all of it. You were the right one in a…in a bad time.”

You nodded, your tears spilling as you listen to her. It’s not even that big of an issue so you have no idea why you were crying. Old feelings and old wounds, you suppose.

“I know there’s nothing I can do to fix it…but you deserve to hear what I’ve been wanting to say to you, correctly, without all of the pressure of soccer or college.”

Once you catch her looking at your trembling fingers you don’t let her go, temptingly taking hers in yours. She sighs at the touch, how tender and soft they still feel.

“It’s alright.” You whispered, looking down at your joint hands. It’s been a long time, a terrible time.

You’re not sure what exactly happened after that, or how you end up getting too close to Taissa to the point you could feel her breath fanning against your face, how her eyes were fluttering, how her nose nudges yours, pulling you into a spell you swore you would never fall back in again.

“Do you have anyone?” Leave it to Taissa to be so romantic in her questions, but you don’t even pay attention to it, shaking your head in denial, before you ask her the same.

“Do you?”

Her eyes flickers between yours and your lips, trying to hold herself back, but your sweet voice, your scent, the warmth radiating off your body— it took her a lot of self-preservation.

“I don’t.”

“I’m never leaving you again…I promise you.”

It’s unclear who made the first move but you don’t dwell on it. Not when the touch of her lips against yours feels like the love you’ve been chasing and waiting for. Her soft sighs, her moans, the whispers of your name, it all felt real, too real. When she unbuckled her seatbelt to climb on your lap and pushed you further in the seat, you realised how far you’re going, your brain clogged with desire begging you to slow down and think thoroughly but it’s a hard task, especially when Taissa places her hands on your chest, tracing your covered skin and everything she missed so dearly.

“Tai, wait—“

“What?” She pleaded, not separating her lips from yours, breathing heavily. Her heart was racing, senses going haywire. She needed you, now, but you were leaving back, hands cupping her face. She’s afraid of what you’ll say. That you’ll let her down gently. And for a minute she nearly wants to tell you to get over it quickly but knows she can’t. Not exactly.

“We should slow down.” Your hands went from her face down to her sides, reaching her hips. It was unfair of you, to suggest to take things easy when your hands were on hers. “I…I’m not saying I don’t want this but we have things to think about first.”

She doesn’t say anything, body tensing up. You realise what you’ve just said and rush to form an apology, lifting her to get up but she softly pushes you back, kissing your forehead.

She won’t let you go, again.

“I…okay. We can think about it.”

“You…you’ll give me time, right? Give us time?”

“For as long as we need.”

You try not to cry but you do anyway, your eyes once again welling with tears but she’s quick to catch them, even kisses them away as she holds you in silence.

When you leave, she walks you to your home. If it were any other time you’d invite her, but this is too delicate, too new to do anything. But as she kisses you for the last time, it felt like a promise— it was a promise. A promise that she would stay. A promise that you’d slowly start over, in a place where you finally could live your happiness.

secondary a/n: if you can guess what song they were talking about both sides of you pillow will be fresh. if you don’t both sides of your pillow will fresh anyway. and if you’re reading this both sides of your pillow are fresh

[naetaesarya]

Direwolves not extinct! Means Jonsa! Means Dany is going to die barren! Means no Jonerys!

Direwolves are back! And GRRM has met them! Jonsas think this means Jonsa is going to happen AND that Dany is going to die childless.

Why? Honest to god, when I found this in the grrm tag, I nearly choked on my teeth.

You see, the puppy's handlers at Colossal Biosciences felt the name of Sansa's wolf, Lady, was a bad omen name as she was the first wolf to die and did not want to catch those vibes for the pup (does that mean Jonsas accept Lady's death is a bad omen for Sansa then?) However, Jonsas view this as a big-time win! When the handlers renamed that pup "Khaleesi" instead due to the popularity of the GoT and Daenerys's fanbase per verbatim, Jonsas believe this means bad things are going to happen to Dany in the books! From the CBR article on why they named the pups the way they did:

Colossal Biosciences: In the show, unfortunately, as you know, Lady dies, and so we didn't want to name the first female Lady, because we thought it was a bad omen. So we thought if we named her Khaleesi, you know, obviously, fans of the show and the books would love them. I think the bigger the fans, the more the stars will love them. There are people who are just Hardcore Targaryen fans.

Jonsas:

But wouldn't this mean they have faith Khaleesi is a safer name for the pup than the bad-omen Lady....?

They plan to have a puppy named Ghost in future litters and this means Jonsa is going to happen:

Colossal Biosciences: And so we have the first two brothers, and we didn't want one to be named Ghost, because everyone would just talk about Ghost, and no one would talk about the other one. We were trying to be a little bit more diplomatic and fair to the animals, but you can be assured that probably one of the future ones will be named Ghost.

There's more!!

a. Because GRRM met the puppies and cried, this means GRRM is sharing future plots with Colossal Biosciences and Jonsa is going to happen.

b. Because one article mentions how Kit Harington and Sophie Turner are into wolves, book!Jonsa is going to happen

c. Because the Khaleesi puppy is not in the breeding program, this means Jonerys is toast and Jonsa is going to happen.

But wouldn't that mean the pup they were planning to name Lady wasn't going to be in the breeding program...? There's more!

d. Because the vet technicians were singing a song from The Little Mermaid, this means Jonsa is going to happen.

Guys, we might as well accept it, Jonsa is happening ;0;

So because 'Lady' is a bad omen name and CB didn't want that energy for one of these pups, doesn't that mean they view Khaleesi as a safer name? And if Jonsas are using their "Dany will die as a villain" rhetoric to mean the renamed Khaleesi is all bad omens for the pup, does that mean a puppy named Ghost (wolf of the currently-dead Jon) is a pup meant to die as well? Do they honestly believe that how these puppies were named in present time indicates what GRRM is basing his plots on? CB better not name a puppy 'Summer' either or GRRM will give too much away 😬😬😬

[aghsed]

My sister asked me why I listen to so much Arctic Monkeys and TLSP and I had to explain that no matter what mood you’re in, there’s an Alex Turner for that. You want something punky? WPSIATWIN and Favourite Worst Nightmare. You want something harder and trippy? Humbug. You want something dreamy and more vulnerable? SIAS. In the mood for catchy? AM. Mysterious and sexy? TBH&C. Sad and sexy? The Car. 1960s retro? Age of the Understatement. High as fuck? EYCTE. Acoustic and mellow? Submarine soundtrack. And new hair for each of them! I said: “do you see the fucking evolution? He’s brilliant!” She said “what’s so great about evolution?” At that point I said “already thick and you’re getting thicker,” and walked away.

As a side note, I just realized that literally half of the songs on AM were singles, which is fucking insane. And pretty much the other half of them could have been as well.

[qqueenofhades]

I'm a little confused by the left's repeated assertion that they're "trying to hold Biden accountable" and push him left, things they've been talking about since before he was elected, and the ramifications of that at this point in time. I do think we need to be calling out things we disagree with and making our feelings known, but seeing people like Nina Turner complain about student loan forgiveness when it's been made abundantly clear Biden is doing all he can and he can't actually cancel anything as just the President (without being sued or having it reversed by Republicans - please correct me if I'm wrong and there's more he could do here?) doesn't feel like it's that? I just don't understand the logic behind people on the left adding to this narrative that he isn't trying hard enough on what we want, rather than the Republicans are preventing things from being done. We need to not sit back and get complacent, yes, sure, but I feel like the line where it goes from helpful and necessary to harmful and more beneficial to the right was crossed a while ago.

The thing is, you're confused by it because it's a bad-faith argument. Actually "holding someone accountable" means honestly assessing what they can do, what they have done, what they can be expected to do in the future, and if they haven't done it, what's stopping them (i.e. have they just not done it or are they being actively stopped from doing it by factors beyond their control)? It doesn't mean "constantly moving the goalposts to constantly criticize someone if they don't magically get everything done immediately, regardless of reality." The way Online Leftists use it, "holding Biden accountable" means "relentlessly criticize him every instant he doesn't magically transform into the Socialist Messiah overnight, the end." That's not actually a useful, honest, reliable, or constructive metric.

This is also the case because their version of good policy is "someone thinks the Correct Thoughts all the time and any failures to achieve it means they are not thinking the Correct Thoughts hard enough." I'm not sure how anyone could have missed what SCOTUS is doing right now, but Online Leftists remain determined to discount, minimize, or otherwise totally ignore its role, because that would mean a) there is in fact a difference between the parties, b) Hillary Clinton would not have made the same appointments Trump did, and c) they might therefore have some responsibility in not voting for her, none of which can be countenanced. As such, if Biden has failed to wave a magic wand and get all student debt erased for everyone overnight, He Is Just Not Trying Hard Enough. SCOTUS very notably outlawed his first forgiveness program? BIDEN'S FAULT!

Even though Biden extended the Covid-era payment pauses as long as he could (it was Congress that passed the law mandating an end to them, because THE PRESIDENT IS NOT AN ABSOLUTE MONARCH!), and even though he's now rejiggered the entire repayment program so that your monthly payments can get lowered to $0, these count as payments, and no interest accumulates as long as you "make" them, which in practice adds up to full forgiveness -- this still isn't good enough for the Online Leftists, because it happened after trial and error, is a partial solution, doesn't snap its fingers and erase everything, and relies on slow and careful policy work. And yet, it's going to be a lot harder for SCOTUS to overturn than just "the president forgives your debt," which was the first thing he tried to do and it didn't work! With a different SCOTUS, it might have! But we have this nightmare court BECAUSE OF TRUMP, and all the Pure Thoughts in the world won't get rid of it!

Biden is the most liberal president we have ever had, period, full stop. It's not sexy and it's not exciting and it's not something the Online Leftists will ever acknowledge, but it's the truth. And whenever he is actually and extensively pushed, he goes more left, not less. I suspect at least part of the recent negative press barrage he's gotten is because he's openly come out with a plan to raise the tax rate on billionaires to 25%, and the corporations and oligarchs that own the mainstream media Really Don't Like That. (They've always been unfair to Democrats, but look for it to be especially so.) That would be, BY FAR, the highest the top-rate tax bracket has been since Reagan. Biden is the first president ever to actually address the scam of "Reaganomics" and take credit for "Bidenomics," which actually does represent a major rearrangement of the way capital is envisioned and distributed in this country for the first time in the 40+ years since Reagan wrecked it. That's why the capitalist media is really, REALLY determined to muckrake him as much as possible, and to do Kamala even dirtier than they did to HRC in 2016.

Anyway also: Holding someone accountable also implies that you're working with them and will reward them (i.e. voting for them, engaging with them) if they do the things you expect, which is another thing the Online Leftists won't do. So yes. This. The end.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Co-Star pt. 16

Callum Turner X Actress! Reader

Summary: Y/n, Callum, Austin, Anthony and Barry's adventure...

Warning: Swearing?

A/n: Hey everyone, I'm trying to write the stories. But I'm in my finals exam and I don't have much time. I'm trying to post stuff, but it's hard. Love y'all :)

> Means Y/n response

@Official_Y/n

@Official_Y/n: My fellow Americans... We did gymnastic inside the White House...

Like by: 38 369 people.

Comments:

@Y/n_and_Callum4ever: Their running picture!!! So cute!!!

@Austin_Butler: You almost broke your ankle too. > Elvis... Stop spreading lies!

@Anthony_Boyle: I went to apologize for what I did to Lincoln... >You better be sorry, Booth! Stream ManHunt!

@Apple.TV

@Apple.TV: Night at the Opera for #CallumTurner, @Austin.Butler and @Official_Y/n

Like by 76 279 people.

Comments:

@Official_Y/n: Yes, me and Callum are dancing in the hallway. Yes, Austin was third wheeling.

@User173910: The third pic is Y/n watching her husband and her husband's husband.

@BarryKeohgan92: Where's my invite? >Not there :)

@Official_Y/n

Official_Y/n: Took a walk with these men... Here's the explanation behind the pictures

Exebit A: Callum being handsome as always.

Exhibit B: Austin smelling ⚘️🌷🌸

Exhibit C: A 🦋 taking Anthony for a tree.

Exhibit D: A 🐕 found Barry and wouldn't leave. Barry adopted that 🐕 :)

Exhibit E: I wanted to get a 🕷 to scare Anthony; but seconds later, I saw a 🐸 and got scared...

Exhibit F: Callum taking pictures of my beauty.

Liked by 58 368 people.

@Austin.Butler: Why was the caption so long? >Because... Don't question my methods.

@Sabrina.Carpenter: Why are you afraid of frogs and not of spiders?! > Spiders are cute, frogs are not!

@User6381: Why does Anthony look like an old grandpa? >Because of his hat...