#callum booth

[conscharacterscentralised]

Caleb. I think. I don’t think it’s amnesia but it’s definitely a form of memory loss. He has very scattered memories of the past and can have trouble with remembering the present.

I don’t know if I’ve revealed the why, but now seems like a good place as any. [cw for supposed breaking and entering, abusive familial relationships, gaslighting, body horror and unconsentual medical experimentation from this point onwards]

So Caleb (he’s about 12 at this point) and his brother Callum (18) (their parents were not creative with names) were left orphaned after what Caleb assumed was a home invasion while he was at school, so the two went on the run to try and find a new home. They ended up entering this organisation that seemed to be an orphanage. Callum rose in the ranks to be one of the staff members and Caleb ended up befriending some of the kids there. Everything seemed to be well, at least from what Caleb saw.

In truth, the organisation was dedicated to experimenting on people who were gifted and able to wield power sources called Iridium Pearls. They harvested the raw power from the users, often leaving them dead or “hollowed”. Callum was initially on the table for sacrifice, but he ended up fighting against them and seemingly awakened his IP power: control. He puppeted his would-be attackers, even managing to harm a few before being detained. The organisation thought him a useful asset, so kept him on board. Callum didn’t have any qualms about the whole human sacrifice thing.

After all, he had awakened his powers very early in a much weaker form. It was still enough to stop his parents from running when he killed them.

Callum utilised his powers to the organisation’s benefit, able to swallow the grimmer aspects whilst still juggling the niceties others came to know him for. When Caleb was to be sacrificed, he didn’t bat an eye. He was curious though - what powers did he have? What was his potential? And how could it further goals? As it turns out, Caleb has the power to contain things, which Callum thought useful. Often the IP energy was too chaotic to handle by oneself, so to have it managed and contained, unable to resist, was useful. But IP can be extremely corruptive… which is good that Caleb is doing it, not him.

So tldr: Caleb isn’t sacrificed and has a job. Only he’s started getting unexplained aches and pains, and he’s noticing weird discolouration on his body, most notably his arm and face. He tries raising this concern to Callum, as well as the whole “harvesting energy from people” thing. You know, are we the baddies?

So Callum removes his memory of ever asking. And he does so the next day. And the next. So it’s probably best he doesn’t know about the experiments. Or the times where his friends vanish. Oh, and of life before being here. He’s asking questions again, remove his memories. No, you’re crazy for thinking this is wrong! This is good! It’s all you ever known! Shut up! I’m right!! Know your place! Remove that memory so he isn’t traumatised. Remove that one too, too much to question.

Each memory that is removed is just that: the memory. His corruption continues. His hand forms to a claw. His eye crusts over, rendering him blind in one. He stops asking questions out of fear. Caleb is scared; he’s a monster and he doesn’t know why. All his friends leave, but did he ever have friends? He can only trust his brother, but even he grows cold and distant. When mundane authorities come to investigate, Caleb is told to hide. When IP investigate, Caleb is told to put himself to use and hold them off. He’s a disappointment if he fails, and could do so much better if he succeeds. When asking about his failing memories, he’s told it’s a side effect of the corruption and is told to be more careful or it’ll worsen and he won’t be able to talk or fend for himself. He’s already stated forgetting things like passwords, important locations, even his own name. He hardly knows the date or how old he is. The memories blur.He loses himself in the haze.

One day, a raid happens. Operation Peridot, as it’s known in history. All of the higher-ups flee through a portal one of them made, Callum alongside them. Caleb tries to enter the portal that would lead them to safety. Callum asks for it to be shut down, leaving his brother behind. At this point, he’s 26. Caleb is 20, but never remembers celebrating a birthday beyond his 9th.

Caleb manages to escape on his own, but is tailgated by the raiders, trying hard to find and rescue him; to rehabilitate him into the larger society the Iridium Pearl userbase have made for themselves. But Caleb keeps running. But he doesn’t know why. He ends up hurting many people he doesn’t want to, but what else can he do? He’s a monster, and if he’s not one now he’ll be one soon.

…it should be noted that he does end up receiving at first illegitimate therapy before actually receiving actual therapy, and does discover his long lost memories from small jars where they were held captive, but yeah… not a pretty way to lose your memories.

Which OC has amnesia? Why? What causes/caused it?

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

The Librarians of the Library

[jello-bones-boops]

Raymond's Boop Booth: Final

Cuddles beneath cut:

Thank you all for participating. I had a lot of fun making this!

[crazymadpassionatelove]

Cool Fiancè

Notes: 18+ sex mentioned

Special shout-out to @ab4eva and her fabulous editing skills! This is the second installment in my cool girl saga. Read Part 1 here

---

Five Things to know about Austin Butler’s New Fiance ::

Although his reps couldn't be reached for comment, sources close to the Elvis actor confirm he has popped the question to his mysterious lady love!

Butler and the stunning brunette were recently spotted at the iconic Les Puces market in Paris last Friday, and she seemed to be sporting a new accessory. Austin was dressed in a black leather jacket, a white v neck tee, and black moto boots. She was clad in a classic trench coat and vintage Dior kitten heels as she kept her head down and let the winner lead the way. His face was mostly obscured by aviator sunglasses, but his smile was very apparent according to onlookers. “Austin was holding her hand and pointing out jewelry at different booths. They were very friendly with local vendors and Austin ended up buying her a gold charm bracelet. He told the dealer the bracelet was a momento to celebrate their recent engagement,” a fellow American tourist overheard. The twosome reportedly spent the prior week soaking in the city of lights and meeting with the YSL fashion house. Austin was recently tapped as the brand's newest ambassador.

Since returning stateside paparazzi pics have finally surfaced and revealed a closer look at that ring. Montana based indie jeweler Jada Kaye has been revealed as the designer of that serious sparkler. The 5 carat, flawless emerald-cut emerald is set in solid gold and flanked by two white diamonds on either side. Inside sources told Elle Magazine that Kaye and Butler worked closely together to craft the one of a kind creation. There's even rumored to be an inscription on the inside that's significant to the couple and the ring is estimated to cost a cool $100,000. Austin's fiancè was photographed heading into a ballet studio yesterday wearing pink tights, a pink leotard, Ugg boots, and of course that ring. Her curly dark brown hair was slicked back into a bun and she seemed to be sporting a pair of the actor's sunglasses.

Here's everything you need to know about the future Mrs. Austin Butler;

She's from New England —

A, as she's known, was born in Rhode Island. She grew up splitting her time between Rhode Island and Kennebunkport, Maine. Her teenage years were spent working the local Del’s lemonade truck, former neighbors say. She attended the Rhode Island School of Design after high school but never graduated.

She and Austin met via her former job –

Whilst working at the New York location of Vibrant Vintage, A, served as the fashion archives buyer. She also happened to be on hand when Butler visited the store. Supposedly she helped him find the perfect pair of leather boots, and the rest is history. Things clearly moved quickly between the two lovebirds, with A relocating to Los Angeles not long after. According to Vibrant Vintage, she is no longer employed there but “remains a close friend and consultant,” says their PR team.

She's a hit with his friends –

She organized a birthday party for her man’s co-star and close friend, Callum Turner. Turner posted an Instagram story showing off a fairly large garden party celebration and a “homemade blueberry glaze cake” according to the post. “Huge thanks to Austin's lovely lady xx” accompanied the video footage. She and Austin were also seen dining with his other Masters of the Air co-star, Nate Mann, while in Paris recently.

They've (supposedly ) got matching ink –

An unnamed employee at the iconic Bang Bang tattoo in NYC has said that Austin and A made a late night visit to the tattoo studio. Where exactly are the said-to-be matching minimalistic tattoos? Reportedly, Austin was inked on his left hip and A on her inner left thigh.

Old fashioned love letters are her thing -

Notably social media shy, Austin and A have taken up the lost art of handwritten love notes. Sources exclusively say that custom monogrammed stationery was crafted for the duo whilst Austin was filming in England. The hand pressed, vintage inspired paper bears a unique coat of arms style symbol with intertwining letter A’s and two sparrows (Fun fact! Sparrows mate for life and always find their way back, no matter how far they fly). While separated, the couple often writes letters to one another, even having the letters sent via jet instead of mail for privacy reasons!

_______

Suddenly one morning articles begin to pour in about your engagement. It catches you off guard, that ring akin to a skating rink has been sitting pretty on your hand for a bit now. The engagement had happened so naturally as everything with the two of you seems to. In the early morning hours while his swollen, rock hard member thrusts into you repeatedly you begin to awaken. On your side, his teeth clamp down on your shoulder as his finger twirls round the curls at the nape of your neck.

His gasps and needy groans tickle your ear. “Couldn't help myself..”, he shudders as you suddenly clamp down around him, barely able to register it all. You stretch and arch, allowing him the room and space to take what he needs. It is his after all. His teeth and pillowy soft lips mark your shoulder blades and when you reach down to where the two of you are joined, you feel his very full balls. Your newly manicured fingers tease and tug the best you can, scrunched up like some sort of acrobat. “Ugh, ugh…baby… you're gonna make me -”. Then he does. Hot, viscous, cream floods you and makes you sigh in a contented whimper. “Thanks darlin’,” he pets your head and you close your eyes dreamily. That is until you hear him rustling around in the bedside table next to him.

You cock open an eye, figuring he's looking for smokes or even the book he had been reading late last night. Your hands are stretched above your head, gripping a pillow. The perfect position for him to suddenly slip the most gorgeous piece of jewelry you've ever seen onto your finger. When your eyes shoot open and you jump up, he's lying there grinning that smile that makes you weak at the knees. “Will you be my wife?” As if your answer would be anything but yes, please Daddy. You smother him in kisses, straddling him and giggling. It's the perfect moment, the perfect proposal. You were never one to want a fireworks display or heaven forbid, those ridiculous and wasteful walls of flowers other celebrities seem to have for every occasion. This private, simple moment is everything you could ask for.

You feel the sudden urge to take him in your mouth despite him just finishing. With your head hanging off the side of the bed, you take him down your throat. Choking and gagging, you really give it your all. Fighting to keep your eyes open so you can see the way his lip curls and his eyes slam shut. Talking is always your thing. This time, though, he's sputtering and rasping words of utter devotion and love. Promises to worship your body until the day he dies. My perfect, perfect wife. Soon you can't be sure if the tears are from his cock down your throat, or his beautiful words. Maybe both. Those pretty boy fingers twist and tug on your nipples and then crawl lower and flick that special spot. The only fireworks you enjoy happen, twice for you actually. He's so dutiful and charming, when you're done pulling yourself back together and fixing your hair, he's handing you a surprise glass of champagne. What a way to mark the occasion.

You decline a proper press announcement. Phone and FaceTime calls follow to those who truly matter to you both - your families, both absolutely thrilled. Then Baz, Cal, The Presley's, everyone can't stop gushing about how perfect you are for each other. That ring, oh how sweet he designed it himself. You come up with a family-appropriate story to describe the proposal and the evening that followed, conveniently leaving out the mind-blowing sex the two of you have all over the house and in the hot tub. Why do things feel so different now that you're engaged? You can't get over the way the light hits the ring as you stroke him and something in that dirty girl heart of yours feels like it's really, truly, official when you have to clean his cum off the stone.

He's due back to set for some reshoots a few days later and of course you follow. Bringing throw pillows from your living room to spruce up his trailer and plotting out how to plan the most private, under the radar wedding possible while you lounge in his trailer in a cute little dress you sew yourself from vintage scarves bought in London. Your newest hobby, that and the ballet classes. He yammers on and on about wanting to sneak in and see you dance. You're sure it's just the tights and leotards spurring his interest though, let's be real. The paparazzi are as relentless as ever, but head down with big sunglasses helps keep the chaos at bay.

You visit Disney World, a whole crew, the two of you, your families, friends with their little ones. Thankfully Disney security is familiar with celebrity guests and you can actually let your guard down for once. Which is good, because seeing Austin chase after your friend's newly toddling little ones makes your stomach flip flop with joy. You make a mental note to expedite the wedding plans, he makes it known that he's chomping at the bit to be a father. When you visit Main Street, you decide a pair of new Mickey ears are in order. Gold stitching with Mrs. Butler is what you finally decide on after Austin's encouragement, his hand on your lower back as you walk miles and miles around the park with hands full of churros and cotton candy. Sure, some overzealous fans snap cell phone pics of you with your ears and immediately post them to those ridiculous Austin fan blogs who've now decided you are the evil villain in his story. You won't allow them to burst your Disney bubble though. Your fairytale is just beginning after all.

__

[bellesdreamyprofile]

Nights of Drinks and Jealousy - Austin Butler

summary: a night out and a couple of drinks with your friends turn into quite an evening ; austin's jealousy saves the day

It was one of the usual nights with your friends - people that you and Austin mutually clicked with. Some were Austin's colleagues he introduced you to and others were people you had known for a while - it was a good mix of both of your worlds. You were keen on staying in touch with the people you cared about, despite of both of your hectic schedules. Austin was always in between sets and you were in between pages and ink, writing as the inspirational wave hit you.

The restaurant was casual, nothing too fancy, yet you were still in the more secluded area for privacy reasons. Austin let you slide in the booth first, chuckling at a joke Florence made, and then took a seat beside you. Callum sat opposite to your boyfriend and Florence opposite to you, though one person was missing.

"Alex not gonna make it tonight?", you asked, your eyes darting between the group. Florence shrugged and Callum frowned, pulling his phone out.

"He said he'd be there.", he mentioned and started scrolling on his phone. Just as Callum was about to call him, the man made an appearance.

Alex was panting as he reached your table, making you wonder if he had been running to get there. Everyone greeted him with glee, for he was the most vivacious of the group, and then he took a seat beside Callum.

"Traffic was a bitch, let me tell ya.", he said, shrugging off his jacket. Callum elbowed him and winked in your direction.

"Y/N was worried you wouldn't show up.", his tone dripped with irony and you couldn't help but laugh and roll your eyes. Austin shifted in his seat and reached for his glass of water, saying nothing as he quietly observed.

"Well, I wouldn't have complained.", Florence started, happily grasping her glass of wine. "More drinks for us."

"Y/N worried about me? Well, that's nice.", there was something about his smile that set you off a little and then a faint blush made its way on his cheeks. Maybe you could be mistaken, for the dim lights liked to play these sorts of tricks.

Your chest tightened as your hand automatically reached for Austin's under the table. He immediately reacted, giving it a squeeze, and the invisible wall he had built around himself for the past minutes had now just shattered.

"I, uh, I thought you were gonna show up with Alyssa.", you changed the topic and reached for your own water, your other hand still in Austin's hold.

Alex tensed and cleared his throat, raising his hand for the bartender. You exchanged a look with Florence, who was equally as confused as you were.

"A whiskey, please.", his tone was sharp, Callum turning sideways to get a better look at him.

"You okay, man? You usually start drinking after dinner. You know what they say about drinking on an empty stomach.", Cal tried to make a little joke about that, but the tension casted on the table was palpable. You let out a shaky breath as you felt something unusual set on your chest - the feeling that tonight wasn't going to be a good night.

Alex spoke only after he was served his drink, his head hung low as he swirled his whiskey. "Alyssa and I... We're divorcing."

You kept the gasp to yourself, Austin squeezing your hand. You were both in shock, since you were very good friends with Alyssa and had known her since before she met Alex. She was a sweet girl and they truly seemed great together.

"Alex... We're so sorry, my gosh, how are you doing?", Florence leaned over to look at him.

"We're there for you, man.", Austin said and reached forward to pat his friend's arm. "What happened? If you'd like to talk about it, of course.", he said carefully and Alex nodded in acknowledgment.

"Yeah, thanks guys. It's just... I didn't wanna tell anybody, because I thought we could fix this, you know?", his tone was almost unrecognizable as he kept his eyes low. What love can do to a man, you thought. "The only time the relationship felt alive was when we were fighting. For it to feel this way... It's not worth it. So we gave up."

You shuddered at his words, and as you emphasized with Alex, your thoughts made you wander to your and Austin's relationship. You realized you were lucky to have someone so genuine, funny, caring and loving by your side. Another squeeze and a subtle finger grazing the back of his hand were sent his way.

"It'll get better, man.", Callum wrapped an arm around his shoulder and waved at the bartender. "Let's get some drinks in you."

The drinks kept flowing and the booth was abandoned once dinner was over. You all found yourselves at the bar, you leaning against the counter and Austin caging you with his arms. You laughed at his curls brushing your cheeks as he leaned down to your ear.

"I'm gonna go with Cal for a quick smoke, alright?", your hands found home on the nape of his neck, brushing the little hair you loved so much. You nodded in silence, totally mesmerized by the beauty of the man. Austin noticed your absence and brushed your nose with his. "You sure, you don't wanna come with, baby?"

You shook your head and placed a kiss on his lips. "I gotta stick to at least one New Year's resolution, Aus.", you weren't particularly addicted, but you always smoked when somebody else did. Being friends with Callum did a number on you cigarettes wise.

Austin nodded and kissed you, pulling back to look at you with a smile. "My best girl. You stick to the resolutions, baby. I admire you for that.", you rolled your eyes, though the smile painted on your lips was inevitable. "I'll be back in ten."

You watched Austin leave with Callum and Florence immediately appeared by your side.

"You know, you two are disgustingly sweet it's actually adorable.", she said, scoffing and grabbed a drink from the counter.

You laughed a little and shook your head. "What can I say? I love the man.", your hand found your fizzy drink with ease as conversation between you and Florence flowed.

Florence was in the midst of telling a captivating story when you felt an unfamiliar touch on your shoulder. You immediately froze and glanced sideways, partly relaxing at the sight of Alex. He laughed randomly, his breath hitting your nose and his arm sliding further.

You cleared your throat and tried to slip away from his touch. By that point, even Florence stopped talking, her eyes stuck on his arm around your shoulder and the visible discomfort in your face.

"What are you doing?", she asked calmly, sensing your struggle to speak up. Alex laughed again and squeezed you.

"Alright.", you said quietly, now fed up with his nonsense. "You're drunk and I'm with Austin.", you turned his way and cringed when you had to put your hands on him to push him away.

Alex frowned, tightening his grip on you. "You ain't complaining when it's Turner hugging you."

You tried to push him off once again. "He's my best friend!", your eyes darted on Florence, who was looking through her purse. "Flo, please call Austin."

"I was already on it.", she said and pulled out her cellphone, her eyes dead-set on Alex. 

Alex shook his head and took a step forward. "You little—"

"I dare you to finish that sentence, you son of a bitch.", Alex's hand was ripped off of you, forcing you to look to your side. Callum pushed him back and Austin had his hand clenched in a fist. You knew that the situation was only moments away from unfolding into a disaster.

Florence gently grasped your arm and pulled you in her direction. You were still in a haze of confusion and disappointment. You were more upset over not succeeding in pushing Alex away than him putting his hands on you.

The next minutes were a blur - you were all escorted out of the restaurant through a backdoor, Callum taking a cab with Alex and Florence hugging both you and Austin goodnight. Only when you watched Florence's car drive away, you were able to let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

Austin's arm was securely curled around your waist - his familiarity, his touch and smell grounding you.

"It's over now, baby.", he placed a kiss on your temple, his hold tightening on you. "Should've never left you by yourself, I'm sorry."

Your gaze rose to meet his eyes, eyes that were tormented by what had unfolded half an hour ago. "Florence was with me...", you said in a low tone. "He was drunk and obviously going through—"

Austin shook his head and cut you off immediately. "That is absolutely no excuse to his actions, Y/N. I don't give a fuck if his dog died or if his wife left him. There is no excuse to put his disgusting hands on you.", his words held confidence and rage, and if you weren't so bothered by what had happened you would've found him so hot right now. 

His vein visibly popping in his neck, his hands jealously gripping your body and his eyes that were so blue and wild.

You cleared your throat and looked down in embarrassment, your thoughts getting in the way.

"Thanks, honey.", you looked up once again, finding love in those waves of blue. "Don't know what I would've done without you.", you said honestly as your hand curled around his waist in comfort.

Austin pecked your lips and that was when you decided to start walking towards your car. He opened your door like a real gentleman and you smiled at him. Though before he closed the door, he stopped in trance and looked at you, a mix of amusement and seriousness flickering over his features.

"Don't think I haven't noticed that look in your eyes, missy."

MASTERLIST austin masterlist

austin 2025 digital calendar 🎀 austin phone case💋

[kathlare]

the price of forgetting

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In the chaos of a high-energy afterparty, Lando drowns himself in alcohol and fleeting distractions, but reality crashes down on him in the form of a brutal confrontation.

Wordcount: 0.7 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

October 31st, 2022 - Mexico City, Mexico

The bass vibrated through Lando’s chest as the club pulsed with the energy of the afterparty. The air was thick with the scent of tequila, sweat, and the faint burn of expensive cologne. Martin Garrix was behind the DJ booth, his signature beats sending the already electric crowd into a frenzy.

Lando was drunk—very drunk. The kind of drunk where everything blurred at the edges, where the neon lights felt like they were melting together. He had lost track of how many drinks he’d had, but it didn’t really matter. The season was almost over, he’d had a decent race, and right now, he was just trying to enjoy himself.

And maybe forget.

A girl was pressed against his side, laughing at something he’d said—he wasn’t even sure what. She was pretty, dark hair, bright smile, but his brain was barely registering her. She wasn’t who he wanted her to be, but that didn’t matter. It never mattered.

—You’re trouble, aren’t you?— she teased, her fingers trailing over his forearm.

Lando smirked lazily. —Depends on who you ask.—

He barely had time to react before everything exploded.

A fist collided with his cheek—hard.

The impact sent him stumbling backward, his head snapping to the side as a sharp, burning pain shot through his face. The room spun, and the drunken haze that had felt so comfortable moments ago was ripped away in an instant. His vision blurred, but when he managed to focus, all he saw was Callum.

Amelie’s brother.

And he looked pissed.

—You fucking asshole!— Callum spat, his voice thick with rage, his chest heaving. His face was red, his fists still clenched at his sides like he was ready to hit him again.

Lando barely had time to process the words before Callum lunged at him again.

—You’re a dick, Norris. A selfish, pathetic piece of shit. You used her.—

Lando staggered back, still reeling from the first punch, his cheek throbbing. He tried to steady himself, tried to get his mind to catch up, but everything was happening too fast.

��Callum, what the fuck?!—

—You don’t get to act surprised!— Callum’s voice was loud, cutting through the music. People were starting to notice, turning their heads toward the commotion. Some of the other drivers, their entourages, even a few photographers were watching.

This was bad.

—You broke her, you absolute piece of shit. You don’t even fucking care, do you? You just moved on to the next girl like she never meant anything to you!— Callum was seething, his fists trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

Lando blinked, still struggling to make sense of it all. The alcohol wasn’t helping, clouding his thoughts. He knew Callum had always been protective over Amelie, but this? This felt personal.

—Callum, mate, I don’t know what the hell you think happened, but...—

—Don’t— Callum cut him off, stepping closer, his voice deadly quiet now. —You knew what she’d been through. You knew how much she trusted you. And you threw it away like it was nothing.—

Lando opened his mouth to argue, to defend himself, to say something, but nothing came out. Because the truth was, Callum wasn’t wrong.

Lando had fucked up. He’d walked away. He’d let his ego, his resentment, his own goddamn insecurities ruin everything with Amelie. He could try to make excuses—say she had been too busy, that she hadn’t put in the effort, that she had pushed him away first. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple.

And Callum? He wasn’t going to let him forget it.

—You don’t get to walk around like none of it happened, like she was just another girl to pass the time with. You don’t get to pretend she didn’t mean anything.— Callum’s voice cracked slightly, but the fury didn’t waver. —I will never forgive you for what you did to her.—

Lando clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to argue, to fight back, but what was he supposed to say? That it hadn’t meant anything? That he had moved on?

It would be a lie.

Before either of them could react, a pair of arms wrapped around Callum, yanking him back.

—Callum, stop!— Checo’s voice cut through the tension as he tried to hold Callum back.

At the same time, another set of hands grabbed Lando’s shoulders, pulling him away before he could do anything stupid.

—You need to walk away, mate.— It was Carlos, his tone low, firm.

Lando’s pulse was racing, his breathing heavy. The whole club was staring now. His cheek throbbed, his head still spinning from the alcohol, the punch, the weight of Callum’s words.

I will never forgive you for what you did to her.

The words echoed in his mind, slicing through the drunken haze like a knife.

Callum was still fuming, his body tense under Checo’s grip, but he didn’t lunge again. His eyes burned into Lando’s, filled with a hatred that Lando hadn’t seen before—not even from Amelie herself.

And maybe that was what hurt the most.

The fact that this wasn’t just Callum’s anger. This was her pain.

—Get him the fuck away from me.— Callum growled, shaking off Carlos’s grip.

Carlos gave Lando’s shoulder a firm squeeze. —Come on, let’s go. You’ve done enough damage for one night.—

Lando didn’t fight it.

Because for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to fight.

He just wanted to disappear.

[movingmusically]

What Are Friends For? - Chapter 8

Word Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

I was aware of it immediately.

The change. The subtle but undeniable shift in our messages.

It wasn’t anything obvious. Nothing outright. But something was different.

Maybe it was the fact that I was checking my phone more often. Or the way my stomach did a stupid little thing whenever I saw his name light up my screen. Or the way our messages stretched longer—little back-and-forths that didn’t feel necessary, but neither of us seemed inclined to stop.

Austin: Hope you went with the pizza.

Me: Obviously. I’m not a monster.

Austin: Good. I was worried for a second.

Me: Can’t have you losing sleep over my dietary choices.

Austin: Too late. Been up all night, pacing.

Me: Tragic.

Austin: Truly.

It was nothing. It was nothing.

And yet.

By Wednesday, the shift had settled in like it had always been there.

It wasn’t just the messages anymore—it was how we texted. The gaps between replies had shrunk. The teasing was just a little sharper, the conversations stretching just a little longer. And somewhere between talking about work, making fun of Callum, and debating the moral implications of pineapple on pizza (wrong, obviously), I stopped pretending this wasn’t something.

Not something big. Not something I needed to do anything about.

But something.

And then, on Wednesday evening, right as I was getting home from work—

Austin: So when are you going to let me prove I’m better at pottery than you?

I blinked down at my screen.

It took me a second to remember what he was talking about—the conversation over brunch, when he’d mentioned the class and I’d said something cocky about how I’d probably be a natural.

I hesitated, my stomach giving an annoying little twist.

Me: Bold of you to assume I’d let you win.

Austin: Bold of you to assume you’d have a choice.

I snorted, shaking my head.

Me: When do you even have time for pottery?

Austin: Sundays.

Right. The only day they had off. The only day he wasn’t stuck up near Oxford in his little 1940s war bubble.

I hesitated.

Not because I didn’t want to go.

But because of what it was.

It wasn’t just grabbing a coffee or texting or hanging out at a party with other people around.

This was—

I swallowed.

Austin: You free this Sunday?

I was.

I also knew I could come up with an excuse if I wanted to. Something easy, something believable.

But I didn’t.

Me: Yeah.

Austin: Good. I’ll book it.

I hesitated for half a second too long.

Then—

Me: Just so we’re clear, I’m going to absolutely humiliate you.

Austin: Looking forward to it.

And just like that, I had plans.

Plans with Austin.

Plans that felt…

I ignored the thought before it could finish forming.

Thursday evening, Zara and I got dinner after work.

We’d fallen into an easy routine of grabbing food together every couple of weeks, usually after particularly exhausting days. Today was one of those days, and by the time we collapsed into a booth at our usual spot, I was already halfway through my first glass of wine.

Zara raised an eyebrow. “That kind of week?”

“You have no idea.” I sighed, swirling my glass. “Play rehearsals are almost over, and I want to throw myself out the nearest window. Half of them still don’t know their lines, one kid cried because he thinks the donkey role is ‘too embarrassing,’ and the twins playing the narrators got into a fistfight over who gets to stand in the middle.”

Zara winced. “Sounds promising.”

“Oh, it’s a masterpiece in the making,” I said dryly. “I’m thinking of just quitting and living in the woods.”

“Fair,” Zara said. Then, with a sly look, “Although, someone would miss you.”

I frowned. “What?”

She smirked. “I assume Austin would.”

My stomach dipped. “I—what? No.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve been glued to your phone all week. I assumed it wasn’t just a particularly riveting work email.”

I scowled. “I hate that you notice things.”

“It’s my greatest skill.” She leaned in, chin resting on her hand. “So? What’s going on?”

I hesitated.

Because nothing was going on. Not really.

But…

I shifted in my seat. “We’ve just been texting.”

Zara made an unimpressed noise. “Define just.”

I pursed my lips. “It’s just—small stuff. Banter. Nothing serious.”

She arched an eyebrow.

I sighed. “Okay, fine. It’s been a lot.”

Zara grinned. “I knew it.”

I shook my head, stabbing a chip with unnecessary force. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“It doesn’t,” I insisted. “We’re just—”

Her eyes sparkled. “Go on.”

“He just—he doesn’t know a lot of people in London.”

Zara’s eyebrows lifted.

I ignored her and kept talking. “And he does this pottery class on Sundays, and he mentioned it before, and we were joking about it, and then he asked if I wanted to go.”

Zara’s lips curved. “And you said yes.”

I shoved another chip in my mouth. “It’s casual.”

Zara let out an amused breath, shaking her head. “Ange.”

“What?” I said defensively.

“You’re going to a pottery class together.”

I gave her a flat look. “So?”

She tilted her head. “So it’s a date.”

I let out an exasperated groan. “Jesus Christ.”

Zara just grinned.

I threw a chip at her. “It’s not a date.”

“Mmm.”

“It’s not.”

“Sure.”

I hesitated for a fraction too long.

And Zara, of course, pounced.

“Oh my God.” She grinned. “You like him.”

I let out an exasperated groan. “You’re worse than Callum.”

She smirked. “And you’re in denial.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” I said, because it was. “He’s leaving when filming’s over. This whole thing—whatever it is—it’s temporary. I know that.”

Zara tilted her head. “And yet.”

I shot her a look. “And yet nothing.”

She smirked.

I sighed, slumping back in my seat. “I know nothing will happen. I know that. I just…” I ran a hand through my hair, voice dropping slightly. “I just don’t want to be stupid about it.”

Zara softened.

After a beat, she said, “What if it’s not stupid?”

I exhaled, staring down at my drink. “I don’t know.”

But wasn’t that the problem?

I knew I liked talking to him.

I knew I liked being around him.

And I knew that the longer this went on, the more dangerous it felt.

Zara didn’t push. Just watched me, waiting.

Then, after a beat—

“Come on, though. Are you excited?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Fiddled with my glass.

Zara smiled knowingly.

“Shut up,” I muttered, but I was smiling, too.

The days leading up to Sunday felt slow and fast all at once. I kept myself busy—work, errands, anything to stop my brain from running in circles. But no matter what I did, there was always this quiet hum in the back of my mind. The anticipation of Sunday. Of seeing him.

It was ridiculous, I told myself. It wasn’t a date. It was just pottery. Casual. Friendly. Not a big deal.

And yet, by the time Sunday morning rolled around, I found myself standing in front of my wardrobe longer than necessary, second-guessing everything. Trainers or boots? Hair up or down? Did it even matter?

In the end, I went for my usual—black jeans, a denim jacket, and my grey trainers. Comfortable, easy, not trying too hard. That was the vibe I was going for, anyway.

The walk to the pottery studio was peaceful, the spring air warm enough to make me shrug off my jacket halfway there. The streets were quieter than usual, the soft hum of the city waking up around me. By the time I arrived, I’d managed to convince myself—for the fifth time—that this wasn’t anything to be nervous about.

Austin was already there, leaning against the wall outside the studio, his long legs crossed at the ankles and his phone in his hand. He was wearing a light blue button-up with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans, and the sunlight caught on his hair in a way that felt annoyingly cinematic.

My stomach flipped before I could stop it. What was wrong with me? This wasn’t a date. It wasn’t. But the easy smile that spread across his face when he looked up at me made it very hard to remember that.

“Hey,” he said, sliding his phone into his pocket.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to keep my voice casual.

He held the door open for me, and we stepped into the studio together. The space was warm and inviting, with big windows letting in the sunlight and shelves lined with half-finished clay pieces. The air smelled faintly earthy, like damp stone and wet clay.

The instructor welcomed us and handed out aprons, which I immediately struggled to tie. The strings were longer than expected, and I fumbled with them, muttering under my breath.

“Need help?” Austin asked, already tying his own with ease.

“No,” I said quickly, finally managing to secure it. “I’ve got it.”

He smirked, clearly unconvinced, but said nothing.

Once we were set up at our wheels, the instructor gave us a quick demonstration. Austin took to it immediately, his hands shaping the wet clay with a confidence that made me wonder if he was showing off. I, on the other hand, struggled to keep the lump of clay from wobbling off centre. My hands were covered in the stuff within minutes, and my first attempt at a bowl collapsed into what could only be described as an unfortunate pancake.

“You’re supposed to make it look difficult,” I muttered, shooting him a glare.

He glanced over, lips twitching as he fought back a laugh. “You’re supposed to keep it on the wheel.”

“Oh, is that how this works? Thank you, sensei.” I swiped a bit of clay from my apron and flicked it in his direction. It landed on his arm, and his mock expression of betrayal nearly had me doubled over laughing.

As the hour went on, I started to get the hang of it. The feel of the clay beneath my fingers, the steady hum of the wheel—it was oddly soothing. I glanced at Austin’s station and immediately regretted it. His hands moved confidently, shaping the clay into something smooth and symmetrical.

I tried not to stare. Tried not to notice the way his long fingers curled around the clay, strong but precise, guiding it into place like it was the easiest thing in the world. There was something oddly hypnotic about it, and for a brief, mortifying moment, I wondered what it would feel like to have that same focus turned toward me. The thought sent a rush of heat to my cheeks, and I quickly looked back at my own wheel, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

My second attempt ended up looking like something a five-year-old might bring home from school.

I groaned, glaring at it. “This is rigged.”

Austin chuckled. “It’s clay, not a conspiracy.”

“Easy for you to say, Mr Perfect Bowl,” I shot back, eyeing his work. “You’ve clearly done this before.”

“Maybe once or twice,” he admitted, that infuriating smirk still in place.

By the time we finished, I was covered in clay, and had created something vaguely resembling a bowl—albeit a very abstract bowl. Austin’s bowl, of course, was perfect. He carried it to the drying shelves like it was a trophy, and when I set mine down beside it, he shot me a teasing grin.

“You know,” he said, “it has… character.”

I bumped his shoulder with mine as we turned back to our seats, catching the faintest laugh as he steadied himself.

After the class, we stepped outside into the warm spring air, our aprons replaced with our jackets, though Austin slung his over one arm. We wandered into the nearby park without really discussing it, the path lined with blooming flowers in every colour imaginable.

Austin slowed as we passed a row of roses, leaning down to smell one of the bright red blooms.

I watched him as he leaned closer, his expression shifting to something softer, almost thoughtful. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen much of—quiet, unguarded, as if the rest of the world had melted away for a moment. There was something almost poetic about the way he moved from flower to flower, pausing just long enough to notice the details.

“This one,” he said, motioning to a pale pink rose. “It smells like perfume. Stronger than the others.”

I stepped closer, curious, as he tilted the flower toward me. “Really?”

“Try it,” he said, his voice low and inviting.

I leaned in, my nose brushing against the petals as I inhaled. The scent was sweet, heady, and rich, like something you’d find bottled on a vanity.

“You’re right,” I murmured. “It’s lovely.”

I pulled back, catching his gaze as he watched me, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

I laughed softly, breaking the tension. “Do you always smell the roses?”

He straightened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Sometimes. Doesn’t hurt to stop and notice things.”

I nodded, glancing back at the roses. Before I could respond, he tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing.

“You’ve got—” He gestured vaguely at my head. “Clay. In your hair.”

I froze. “Oh, great,” I muttered, reaching up to find it.

“Here,” he said, stepping closer. “Let me.”

I stilled as he raised his hand, his fingers brushing against my hair as he carefully picked out the tiny bit of dried clay. The warmth of his touch lingered longer than it should have.

“Got it,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Thanks,” I said, my own voice oddly soft.

He didn’t step back right away. His gaze flicked to my cheek.

“Hang on,” he said, reaching out again. “You’ve got some here, too.”

His thumb brushed against my skin, gentle and deliberate, and my breath caught. The warmth of his touch sent a ripple through me, soft but startling, like the smallest drop breaking the surface of still water. My skin tingled where his thumb had been, and I was suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was, the faint scent of clay and something unmistakably him lingering in the air between us. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught in my throat.

“There,” he said after a moment, his eyes meeting mine.

The warmth of his touch lingered even as he stepped back, hands dropping casually into his pockets.

Before either of us could say anything, a voice called out from behind us.

“MISS!”

I turned, startled, to see one of my pupils bounding toward me, his parents trailing behind with apologetic smiles.

“Max,” I said, smiling despite myself. “Hi.”

Max skidded to a halt, staring up at me with wide eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Enjoying the flowers,” I said, still smiling. “Same as you.”

He frowned, his gaze flicking to Austin for a moment before snapping back to me. “Did you see the red ones? Like the ones in the play?”

I blinked. “The ones from your scene?”

“Yeah!” Max said eagerly. “The big ones. I remembered my line about them yesterday!”

“That’s great, Max,” I said, genuinely impressed. “I knew you’d get it.”

He beamed, his excitement contagious, and I heard Austin chuckle softly beside me.

Max turned back to his parents, who gave me a quick wave before steering him away.

When I glanced at Austin, I found him watching me, something softer in his expression. “You’re good with him.”

Austin’s gaze lingered, and for a second, it felt like he wasn’t just talking about Max. There was a quiet intensity to the way he watched me, like he was cataloguing something he hadn’t noticed before. It sent a flutter through my chest I didn’t quite know what to do with.

I shrugged, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s part of the job.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s easy,” he said, his voice quiet.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then, he smiled. The smile lingered between us, soft and warm, before he glanced back toward the path ahead. “Come on,” he said, motioning with his head. “Let’s keep walking. Unless you have somewhere to be?”

I shook my head. “No plans. Unless you count ‘avoiding cleaning my flat’ as something pressing.”

He chuckled, a low sound that did something unfair to my stomach. “In that case…”

We fell into an easy rhythm as we walked. The park was alive with families, joggers, and couples sprawled on picnic blankets, but somehow, it felt like a quiet bubble surrounded us. Occasionally, our arms brushed, and each time, I fought the urge to overthink the small, accidental touches.

“You never told me,” he said after a moment, his gaze sliding to me. “What’s the play about?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want the full Year Four synopsis?”

“Absolutely.”

I laughed softly. “It’s a mishmash of fairy tales. The narrators—when they’re not fighting over who stands in the middle—are trying to tell a story, but all the characters keep messing it up. Cinderella accidentally ends up in the Three Little Pigs, Little Red Riding Hood steals the glass slipper, that kind of thing.”

He smiled. “Sounds like chaos.”

“Oh, it is.” I sighed. “But it’s sweet, in its own way. Max—the kid you just met—has this line about the roses in the Beast’s garden, and he gets so into it. Every rehearsal, he says it like he’s performing at the National Theatre.”

Austin’s smile widened. “I can tell he’s got a good teacher.”

I felt heat creep up my neck and focused on a patch of daisies lining the path. “They do all the work. I just point them in the right direction.”

He didn’t say anything for a beat, and when I glanced at him, his expression had softened again, that unreadable something flickering in his eyes. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I looked away.

As we reached a small fountain near the centre of the park, Austin stopped and turned to face me. “This was fun,” he said, his voice quieter now. There was a softness to his expression, something unguarded, like he wanted to say more but hadn’t quite decided how.

I nodded, my fingers brushing against the strap of my bag. “Yeah. It was.”

“I’m glad you came.”

There it was again—that flicker. I met his gaze and felt my stomach twist, the easy rhythm of our walk replaced by something heavier. Something unspoken.

He didn’t look away. Didn’t fill the silence with a joke or a tease.

I broke the moment first, glancing down at my trainers. “So… do you think they’ll call us pottery prodigies? Or is that just wishful thinking?”

His mouth quirked into a half-smile. “I think they’ll call us something. Not sure ‘prodigy’ is the word.”

I laughed, the tension easing just enough to breathe again. “Speak for yourself. My abstract bowl is going to revolutionise the pottery world.”

He chuckled, but his gaze lingered, as if he was still holding onto something from a moment ago.

When we started walking again, it felt lighter, easier, the conversation dipping back into safe territory. By the time we reached the park’s edge, the sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting everything in a soft, golden glow.

As we stopped at the corner where we’d have to part ways, he turned to me again, his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for coming today.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

For a second, it felt like he might say something more. His gaze held mine, his lips parting slightly, but then he smiled—a small, almost shy curve of his mouth—and stepped back.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” he said, his voice light.

“Yeah,” I said, clutching the strap of my bag. “See you soon.”

I turned first, walking away with measured steps, my heart doing something both ridiculous and impossible to ignore. And as I glanced back over my shoulder, just once, I found him still standing there, watching me.

I turned back quickly, heart skipping in my chest. What was he thinking? Did I imagine that hesitation, the way he’d almost said something at the fountain? I shook my head, willing myself to stop overanalysing. But even as I walked away, his voice lingered in my mind, quiet and steady. I’m glad you came.

Taglist:

@slowsweetlove @thefallofthedamned @saturnsdaughtr @bellesdreamyprofile @butlerrizz @myradiaz @chocolatetree222

[pinenutpbj]

Several Sentences Friday

I was tagged by @irregularcollapse and @avonne-writes, thank you so much 💕

I couldn't decide which WIP I should share, so I created a poll—and I was surprised by the winner! As a result, here's a snippet from the Austin/Callum RPF I'm putting together:

The story is about them having a thing while filming MotA together, with both assuming it would end with their professional collaboration. But of course things change when, a year later, Callum comes to New York for another film shoot.

Callum nurses his second whiskey, the ice long melted, diluting both the spirit and his resolve. The corner booth where Austin has deposited him feels miles away from the bar's center, where Austin himself now holds court among his friends—people whose names Callum has already forgotten despite Austin's enthusiastic introductions.

"This is my old friend Callum," Austin said to each of them, his hand on the back of Callum's neck like a collar that needs to be tightened, his words a leash too long.

Callum is checking his phone—barely nine o'clock, too early to make a polite escape back to Austin's apartment—when Austin slides back into the booth. "Hey there," his voice cuts through RAYE's south London chanting in the strong beats of Escapism. His presence carries the scent of the outdoors—crisp December clinging to his denim jacket in spite of the humid stale air down here. "Not feeling it tonight?"

And what good will it do him? To feel things right here, right now. Callum looks to the bar. Jordan's talking to her friends, the kind of small talk meant only to make her waiting less obvious.

"Nah," Callum says, raising his glass in salute. "Go ahead. I'll guard the booth."

Austin casts him a look, his eyelashes catching too much overhead light to let his eyes spill anything. Callum watches as he and Jordan move to the small area near the band. Austin dances gracefully, his body intuitively finding the rhythm. They aren't touching, not really dancing together so much as near each other. Callum tears his gaze away, focusing instead on the condensation sliding down his glass.

That's not how Callum remembers Austin dancing. Not with him, anyway. Austin should be moving with the carefree abandonment of someone secure enough to not care how he looks. Callum should be putting his hands on Austin's hips, blocking him away from the whole world. They should be so close that Austin's lips would be grazing against his neck. He should be able to smell Austin's sweat. His pomade. The drink he just had. Sex.

Tagging @shipstorms, @joeyalohadream, @stars-remain2 and @prevalent-masters because I'm so excited about what you're cooking 🫶

[courtesons]

for @xringwork who liked this starter call

(open to one, multiple or rotating muses. adam, callum, chase, dante, emilio, harry, joshua, keith, lorenzo, roddy, uriel, xavier are all options!)

Now Oscar was not exactly what you'd call a sports fan, at least not in the traditional sense. He didn't have favourite teams and could care less about football and had only gone to a couple of games when he happened to be dating someone on the team or who worked behind the scenes in a high up position. The Federation on the other hand was a little bit different. He'd only gone originally for an in-person viewing since his family had invested quite significantly in the group and they wanted to see their investment in action. But once it became clear to Oscar that it was primarily handsome, strong men manhandling each other? Well, he suddenly became more interested.

So he went to more shows, always dressed to impress and had become aware that more than a few eyes would wander whenever he showed up. Managers and wrestlers alike and Oscar very much enjoyed the attention and the fact people that he was fairly certain some of the wrestlers put on more of a show for him. So there he was, in his VIP booth a good thirty or so minutes before the main event started when he noticed someone making their way over to him...

[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...

[thedeviltohisangel]

For A Fortnight There We Were Idea- evelyn and her husband are freshly divorced and he’s jealous of callum, maybe he and callum have a little confrontation

For A Fortnight There We Were

"You know, when I pictured my first time out with another man after my divorce," Evelyn burped with a giggle as her second pint settled, "it was nothing like this." Her and Callum were cocooning themselves in the back booth of a pub, each of them with a baseball hat tugged low and a cigarette in their hands.

"And what were you picturing? An old billionaire on a yacht?"

"I had offers," she hummed as she gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer so he was standing between her legs where she sat on a stool.

"I'm sure you did," he mumbled. He leaned in for a kiss and Ev dodged to drop her forehead to his shoulder.

"Someone has their phone pointed at us." The last thing she wanted was photos and videos of her and Callum to be plastered all over social media.

"We don't have to hide anymore, Evvie. Let them watch me love on you." The way he had been dreaming about. Touching her and kissing her without worrying about optics or fielding phone calls from his publicist on how best to keep their distance the next few days until the attention died down. She kissed his neck in response and pulled back to look at him.

"There's no going back." Once they offered the world this glimpse of them, they would voraciously seek out more and more in an attempt to consume all of them. She was afraid it would ruin them. That it only worked because some parts of it were secret.

"I'm not interested in going back. Only my future with you."

"Someone has been reading too many novels with romance in them." Her elbows rested as his shoulders as his nose tipped against hers.

"Evelyn, I'm going to kiss you now." His hand cupped her cheek and she smiled as his lips pressed against hers. She held him close as he pecked her lips a few more times. "Let them say whatever they want to say. We are going to do whatever we want to do and not worry about it."

"That's hard for me." Every minute of every day of her life was planned for her. From waking up to going to bed, she lived and died by her calendar. Callum was asking her to exert some spontaneity. "You might need to kiss me a few more times to bring me around to the idea." His grin was wicked as he obliged.

----

It was dark enough for them to hold hands and walk home from the pub, Ev shocked there wasn't a line of photographers waiting outside after the video of them kissing had already made it's rounds on Twitter. "I want a million more nights just like this!" she squealed as he lifted their interlocked hands and she spun around. "Will you be my midnight snack tonight, Mr. Turner?" she asked. She looked up at him with love in her eyes but he was looking behind her in the direction of his townhouse.

"Get behind me." Ev caught a glimpse of the figure standing by the gate before Callum had her chest to his back, their interlocked hands going into the pocket of his jacket as they walked closer. "Can I help you, mate?"

"You can get your hands off my fucking wife." Evelyn's eyes almost fell out of her head she opened them so wide over his shoulder. Logan.

"I think you need to go." Neither of them wanted to have to call the police. It would bring too much attention.

"She's mine! You can't have her!" Logan stalked forward and Callum pushed Evelyn back and stepped forward to hold his hands to her ex's chest.

"Get in a fucking Uber and drive away. She's not your wife anymore and you don't fucking own her."

"You want that whore?" Logan asked as he pointed at her where she was shivering from the cold and the panic.

"What did you just call her?" Callum pushed him further away from her as he stalked forward like a predator who had found its pray.

"Both of you stop! Logan, go home. Callum, please let's go inside." She reached for his arm and wrapped her hands around it in an effort to pull him away from the increasingly dangerous situation.

"You know what? You can have her. She's so fucked in the head anyways." He had plans to be the bigger man and let it go and go inside the way Evelyn had requested. But then he heard her gasp at his words and felt her fingertips dig into the skin of his arm for solace and knew these were words she had heard come from his mouth before and that they were sending her right back to that dark and lonely place.

"He has two fucking seconds, Ev." He was warning her what was going to happen. Didn't want her to be surprised when he broke his jaw.

"Don't, please. Please, please, let's just go inside." His twitched as he weighed the desire to protect her through physical dominance and to comfort her in the way she asking him to. Callum settled for the latter. He kept his body between her and her ex, bracketing his arms around her as she punched in the code for the gate.

"I'm right behind you," he whispered as he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"Let it go, Cal, please."

"I can't, Ev. Go inside and lock the door. I'll be right there." She looked back once over her should on the stairs to the door and her ex smiled the way he always did when he was toying with. It showed how much he enjoyed still being able to get under her skin.

"I'm sure you want to hit me. Let's get this over with, Turner." Callum shook his head.

"I respect her too much to do that. You've taken enough from her, Logan, did the first honorable thing in your miserable life and signed those papers. Let her fucking go because if I see you again...I swear to God I will welcome the consequences."

Evelyn watched from the window as the two men seemed to exchange threats with each other. As Callum stood and watched her ex-husband get into an Uber and drive out of their neighborhood. He stood there for a few more seconds and let out a deep breath and square his shoulders before turning to walk into the house.

Not for the first time was Evelyn nauseous over the baggage she was bringing into his life. Not for the first time she was scared that it was now one step too far for him and he would leave. Not for the first time did she want to scream out into the universe so it could swallow her pain and lock it away.

And not for the last time she was so utterly in love with Callum that she could finally think of the word forever.

[spidermiguell]

Masterlist ! — #

+=~ welcome to my blog ! {21 — she / her}

basic info : majority of stories I write are 18+ ! — they include nsfw content, and can include other disturbing subjects, so please dni if underage. I often do not proof-read my works as I write during random spurts of motivation.

some of the people i write for ! : austin butler (feyd rautha, benny cross, charles watson, major gale, will ohmsford)

aaron-taylor johnson (count vronsky, tangerine, kraven, friedrich, tom ryder, quicksilver)

brad pitt (tyler durden, cliff booth, david mills, gerry lane, john smith, ladybug)

timothee chalamét (paul atreides, elio, laurie, lee)

tommy miller, joel miller — the last of us

miguel o’hara — across the spider-verse

pedro pascal (joel miller, marcus acacius, francisco morales, javier pena,)

finnick odair, peeta mellark and coryo <3

+ some miscellaneous actors including callum turner, mike faist, josh o’conner, joseph quinn, jake gyllenhaal, oscar isaac, ryan gosling and tom hardy.

and the list will eventually grow.

Current Works —+

touch of a lover — marcus acacius (18+)

obsession — tyler durden (18+)

what you do to me — tangerine (18+)

for pain is what I yearn for — feyd rautha (18+)

the capitol’s favourite pair — finnick odair (18+)

tainted red — finnick odair (18+)

always. — finnick odair

[andy-15-07]

I would love to see a Paul Mescal fix where the reader meets his friends for the first time or the reader and Paul meet at a bar and flirt!

Under the Neon Lights

PAIRING:Paul Mescal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1899 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Paul Mescal Masterlist

I wasn’t usually one to frequent trendy bars in the city, but tonight felt different. A mix of excitement and nervous anticipation bubbled inside me as I stepped out into the cool evening air. I had agreed to meet Paul at a bar he’d discovered—a place with vintage neon signs, plush couches, and the kind of relaxed vibe that made you feel like anything was possible.

A few minutes later, I found him waiting outside, leaning casually against the entrance. His smile was warm, his eyes lighting up the moment they met mine.

“Hey, Y/N,” Paul greeted, his tone easy and inviting. “You made it.”

“Of course,” I replied, trying to hide the flutter in my stomach. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

He pulled me into a gentle hug before leading me inside. The bar was bustling yet intimate. Soft indie music played in the background, blending perfectly with the low hum of conversations. As we settled into a comfortable booth, I noticed that Paul wasn’t alone for long.

“Y/N, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said with a playful glint in his eye. “My friends. They’re a bit of a motley crew, but I promise, they’re the best.”

Before I could respond, a lively voice called out from the nearby table. “Paul, you finally brought the famous Y/N into our little circle!” A tall, charismatic man with a shock of dark hair and an easy laugh approached, extending a hand.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Paul introduced smoothly, “Y/N, meet Callum, my partner-in-crime.”

Callum grinned broadly. “I’ve heard so much about you. Paul’s been practically bragging all week!”

I laughed, shaking his hand. “I hope he’s been telling you all the good parts.”

From the other side of the table, a petite woman with bright eyes and a mischievous smile chimed in. “And I’m Ruby,” she said, offering a friendly hug. “If you ever need a partner for late-night adventures or someone to share ridiculous stories with, I’m your girl.”

Paul squeezed my hand. “They’re my people, Y/N. They’ve seen every side of me—even the embarrassing ones.” His tone was affectionate and protective, and I couldn’t help but feel even more drawn to him.

We ordered drinks, and soon the table was abuzz with conversation. Between laughter and shared anecdotes, I found myself seamlessly woven into the fabric of their camaraderie. The dialogues flowed as easily as the cocktails.

“So, Y/N,” Callum began, leaning in with a teasing smile, “what’s your story? How did you and our charming Paul meet?”

I glanced at Paul, who gave me an encouraging nod. “Well, it all started at a little café downtown…” I began, recounting the story of our first encounter. Every detail was punctuated with smiles and knowing glances from Paul, as if reliving the memory was as thrilling for him as it was for me.

Ruby interrupted playfully, “I’m not surprised he fell for you. Paul has a way of noticing the extraordinary in people.”

Paul chuckled. “Guilty as charged,” he said. Then, with a conspiratorial wink, he added, “And I must say, Y/N, you’ve added a sparkle to my nights that I didn’t even know was missing.”

I felt my cheeks warm, and I leaned in slightly. “I think you might just have a few more surprises up your sleeve.”

The banter was effortless. As the evening wore on, our conversation turned to everything from our favorite films to our most embarrassing moments. At one point, Callum brought up the subject of Paul’s notorious taste in music.

“Honestly, Paul,” Callum teased, “who else can rock out to 80s synth-pop while quoting poetry?”

Paul laughed, shaking his head. “Hey, I like to think there’s an art to blending genres. And Y/N here, I’m sure you have a hidden talent for turning any moment into a masterpiece.”

I grinned. “Maybe I do. Maybe I’ll have to show you sometime.”

The playful glances and flirtatious tones between Paul and me didn’t go unnoticed. Ruby leaned in with a knowing smile. “You two,” she said, glancing between us, “have that look—the kind that says there’s more than just friendship here.”

Paul’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “What can I say? I’ve got impeccable taste,” he replied, his voice low and suggestive.

The energy shifted subtly. The conversation slowed as everyone savored the tension between us. Callum clapped his hands together and declared, “Alright, romance is clearly in the air tonight. How about we round off this epic evening with a little game? Something to get the sparks flying even more.”

Everyone leaned in as Callum explained the idea: a round of “Truth or Dare,” with the twist that each question or challenge had to be fun and, occasionally, a bit risqué. I exchanged a glance with Paul, excitement dancing in my eyes.

“Alright,” I said, my tone playful, “I’m game. But only if Paul promises not to make me do something too outrageous.”

Paul chuckled, his hand brushing against mine. “No promises,” he teased. “I can’t resist a good dare.”

Ruby was the first to go. “Truth or dare, Y/N?”

I raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Truth.”

She grinned. “What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?”

I thought for a moment, then recounted a memory of a midnight road trip with friends—a moment of pure, reckless freedom that ended with laughter echoing under starlit skies. The table listened intently, and even Paul leaned forward, clearly interested.

“Nice,” Callum said appreciatively. “Your turn, Paul. Truth or dare?”

Paul’s eyes flicked mischievously to me. “I think I’ll go with dare,” he declared.

A moment of playful silence passed before Ruby piped up, “Alright, I dare you to serenade Y/N right here, right now.”

The table burst into laughter, and I blushed furiously. Paul grinned, then leaned in close as if to confide a secret. “Oh, you’re in for it now,” he murmured, and then cleared his throat dramatically.

With the confidence of a seasoned performer, Paul launched into a playful, improvised song—a medley of cheeky lyrics and tender compliments that had the whole bar laughing and clapping along. I couldn’t help but be charmed by the way his eyes locked with mine as he sang, each word dripping with affection and a hint of mischief.

After the laughter subsided, the game continued. One by one, truths were revealed and dares completed, each moment drawing us closer together. The room seemed to hum with the energy of shared secrets and light-hearted challenges.

Eventually, the game tapered off, leaving us with a comfortable buzz of lingering excitement. Paul leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I think that was just the beginning of tonight’s adventures.”

I smiled, my voice low and inviting. “I couldn’t agree more.”

As the night wore on, the conversation shifted to more intimate topics. We moved away from the noisy main room to a quieter corner of the bar, where the soft glow of vintage lamps set the stage for a deeper connection. Paul’s friends excused themselves for a bit, giving us the space to enjoy a moment just for the two of us.

“So,” Paul began, his tone gentle yet teasing, “what’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done on a dare?”

I laughed softly. “Well, if we’re comparing notes, I might just have a story or two that could rival your serenade earlier.”

He grinned. “I’m all ears,” he said, his eyes dancing with curiosity.

I recounted a story from a summer spent traveling, the thrill of spontaneity, the adrenaline of a midnight swim in a forbidden lake—all shared with a smirk and a playful sparkle in my eye. Paul listened intently, occasionally interjecting with teasing remarks or sincere admiration for my boldness.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he said after I finished, his hand reaching out to gently touch my cheek. “Your sense of adventure, your spirit—it’s so captivating.”

I felt a warmth spread through me at his words. “I think I’m captivated by you too,” I replied softly.

The conversation meandered naturally, touching on dreams, passions, and the little things that made life beautiful. At one point, Paul confessed, “I’ve never felt this at ease with anyone before. It’s like I can be myself, and you—your presence just makes everything feel right.”

I looked into his eyes, finding sincerity there that made my heart skip a beat. “I feel the same way,” I admitted. “It’s as if meeting you was meant to be.”

Our conversation was punctuated by lingering glances and soft smiles, each word building a bridge between us. The world outside the bar faded away, leaving just the two of us in our own intimate universe. And though the night had been filled with laughter, playful dares, and the vibrant energy of friends, it was these quiet, honest moments that resonated the most.

As the clock inched closer to midnight, Paul suggested we take a walk. “There’s a little park just down the street,” he said. “I thought it might be nice to get some fresh air and maybe steal a kiss under the stars.”

Hand in hand, we stepped out into the cool night. The city lights shimmered in the distance as we strolled along the quiet streets, our conversation now soft and reflective. I marveled at how easy it felt to talk to him—about everything and nothing at all.

“So,” Paul said after a comfortable silence, “what do you think of my friends?”

I smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “They’re wonderful—and you were right. There’s something magical about being around people who know you so well. I can see why you treasure them.”

He laughed softly. “They’re a quirky bunch, but they keep me grounded. And I’m glad you got to meet them. I’d love for you to be a part of this chaos.”

I paused, my heart full. “I’d love that too, Paul. Tonight has been incredible, and I have a feeling it’s just the start of something amazing.”

He stopped walking and turned to face me, his eyes earnest. “Y/N, meeting you has added a new light to my life. I’ve never felt this kind of connection before. It’s like every conversation, every laugh, every little dare brings us closer. I want to keep discovering all the layers of you.”

I felt a surge of emotion and replied softly, “I feel the same way. With you, everything feels so vibrant and full of possibility.”

The night ended with us sharing a tender, lingering kiss beneath the glow of a streetlamp—a promise of more adventures to come, both with his circle of friends and with the undeniable bond that was forming between us.

In the days that followed, I often found myself replaying that magical evening in my mind. The laughter, the unexpected dares, and most of all, the moments of raw honesty between Paul and me. Every time I saw a neon sign or heard an 80s synth-pop tune, I’d smile, reminded of that night when the universe aligned perfectly—bringing together a group of amazing people and a connection that felt destined to grow.

Whether it was the spontaneous banter over cocktails, the heartfelt truths shared in a quieter corner, or the playful flirtation that left us both breathless, that night was a testament to the beauty of stepping out of your comfort zone. And for me, it was the beginning of a chapter I knew I’d cherish for a lifetime.

[jello-bones-boops]

Raymond's Boop Booth: Bad Rib + Scars

He's fine, don't worry. Completely normal for him. Just give him a sec

[faegoddessog]

31: Samhain

Well loves, we made it, Every damn day (except that first one, which I'll rectify when I consolidate) Thanks to @slowsweetlove for providing the Austin based jungle-gym for me to play on. And thanks to all ya'll for hanging out with me , and Austin and sometimes Callum for October.. Hawtober? Hmmm...

Those of you that like to read my mind smut, I'll be taking a digital break for a while. Y'know: touch some grass, do some knitting, bake some bread, paint, declutter, put up some preserves or something cool like that.

Enjoy the end of my own creative challenge for #DDofAB- October 2024

Here is my ongoing masterlist of this project. Keep and eye out for the story in full (or at least less parts) to be posted

My other works are here if you are interested!

Warnings: missing the man, finding the man

You haven’t seen hide nor hair of Austin since those two weeks in New York.  He had pretty much moved out of his hotel and into your apartment for the duration of his stay.  He took you to plays, made you dinners and made sure a day didn’t go by without showing you that you mattered to him. That and he made sure your pussy stayed wet. You’d not had so much sex in your entire life. It was amazing. 

Then he was gone.  

Before he left, you two had agreed that, for now at least, you would keep it a ‘no strings attached’ kinda relationship. You had a whole bunch of work in the coming months and he was filming. He had explained that when he is working, he sometimes can’t really do anything else and usually his phone is taken from him.  He had texted you, off and on for a while, but it had been radio silence for some time. You knew he was filming in Hungary then here stateside somewhere. It was surreal and sometimes you felt like those two weeks were from someone else’s life. The lingering fear that it would be another ten years before you saw him again was kept only at bay by Callum. 

Cal had been far more communicative. He even popped into New York a couple times. Honestly he was far better at maintaining a friendship than Austin. 

“Yeah, it’s not like he doesn't care, he just gets caught up in creating character and the artist aspect of it all. Time kinda doesn't mean anything when he gets like that.  If you can handle that, you’ll be ok,” Cal had told you once at dinner. 

Funnily enough, neither of you were as driven to fuck without Austin there. You joked how he was the sexy lynchpin. 

Did you fuck anyway? Yeah, of course you did. But it was way more of a ‘friends with benefits’ feel than it had been with Austin.

Today though you are in the most unlikely of places. You are in Ohio for your cousin’s wedding. It was also Halloween, or Samhain, as she called it.

“It’s pronounced sow-een,” she kept telling anyone near with ears. She had this love affair with Halloween, excuse me, Samhain, so her wedding was gothy and occult themed. It was the only time she felt she could get away with it. Still there were grumbles from the relatives.  Skulls, ravens and ouija boards outfitted each table, complete with Tarot decks and black candles as wedding favors. 

She had arranged a palm reader and fortune teller  the way other people had DJ’s and photo booths.  The venu was out in a barn on her friends’ farm. You had come out that afternoon to help set it all up. The wedding wasn’t until after dark, of course. 

Her little sister, who was in her mid teens, had brought over a Ouija board and plonked down on the table where you were sitting and tasting the special "black widow" cocktail complete with black glitter and a red spherical ice cube. You thought it was a drink that tempted fate, and hoped it wasn't predictive of your cousins marriage to be.

"Play with me," she had asked, "it's not fun alone."

You agreed, what harm could it have really.

She asked things like:

Are there spirits in the barn? 'no'

Has anyone died in here? 'yes'

Am I crazy? 'no'

Have I met the person I'll marry?

The planchet wandered to ‘no’ for her and practically zipped to ‘yes’ for you. 

“Oooo, who is it! You have to spill, I’m dying to know!” she said wagging her eyebrows. She idolized you, living in the big city and making your own way in the world. You had promised her a trip to New York for a graduation present. She was definitely one of those black sheep of your midwestern family. Destined for something far bigger than marrying a local boy and popping out kids. 

“I don’t know, could be anyone,” you laughed, “I live in a city with eight million people.”  

“Ok, ok! Let’s try this. Ouija Board, where is this man?” she asks. 

O-U-T-S-I-D-E came the answer. 

“That’s unhelpful,” she made a sour face, “unless he’s like a forest ranger or something. Know any forest rangers?” 

“No,” You just laugh it off. Ouija Boards were supposed to be for talking to the dead. You are pretty sure that you aren't going to marry someone dead.

It was then that you heard the tell tale sounds of an old motorcycle in the driveway.

“Oh yeah, they said there was a movie being filmed about motorcycles and that they might be using the front drive to turn around in,” your little cousin says, walking towards the barn door. “Isn't that so neat, a movie, here!! I wonder if it has anyone famous in it. OMG that’d be lit! 

“I dunno, I’ll ask” you hear a deep voice outside. 

You turn just to see the silhouette of a tall man in the bright square of the barn door. 

“Excuse me, is there a restroom I could use here?” the timbre of the voice is unmistakable if layered with a Chicago accent. 

“Austin?” his name drops out of your mouth like a spell.

It’s bewitching, the way he strides into the barn, his heels thunking on the old wooden floor. The lights finally uncover his features, and Austin only has eyes for you.

“Is it you? Is it really you,” he says disbelievingly. 

“Me? It’s fucking you!” you retort, or try to. He is on you in seconds, gathering you in his arms. 

 He smells like cold air, motor oil and cigarettes. He kisses you, tasting faintly like whiskey.  The world falls away and it’s only you two. 

“I’ve been missing you,” he says, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too, so much,” you breathe back, hardly believing this is real.

You stay there for the span of two breaths, until your little cousin squeals, “Oh my god it was right, he WAS OUTSIDE!” 

The End

credit to @strangergraphics for the graphic

Always tag me: @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight

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[bloodhunted]

@cladinivcry dragon slain!

     working the magic mirror ( telephone ) long enough to respond back to indigo's message had taken callum... far longer than he would like to admit. a lot of fiddling, even going so far as to ask a passerby for help. and yet, he had done it eventually, and now he found himself sat at the café they'd agreed to meet at. the invitation had... surprised the tiefling, to say the least. after their team-up when the land had turned sugary, callum hadn't expected the sudden stranger to ever turn up again.

     but he was proven wrong when he looked up to see the other slide into the booth across from him, tell-tale easy smile on their lips.

     ❝ Hello. ❞ a greeting, embellished with the menu slid across the table towards them. ❝ I didn't know what you wanted. ❞