night's twins
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@goslingholic
night's twins

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Andrew: *tells renee to tell Neil he is single and ready to mingle and most definitely gay and always does what Neil asks him to do and let's Neil drive his car and dresses him up and calls him a pipe dream and trusts Neil and then tells him he would blow him*
Neil: cool
Andrew: *kisses Neil*
Neil: I didn't know this was an option
nook rivalry (ryland grace x gn!reader) summary: when your little piece of heaven in the library is threatened, you take it personally aka your relationship with ryland has a rocky start wc: 3.6k cw: enemies to lovers trope with slightly arrogant asshole pre-teacher!ryland a/n: so sorry this request took so long dear anon who requested it a billion years ago! It took quite a while to find an idea that I liked and even now, it uhhh feels like dookie :’) making ryland my enemy felt like making a field of flowers my enemy
You liked to think you were a pretty levelheaded person.
You made attempts to not let the little, mundane things in life bother you- things that wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Little blips to your day that were out of your control weren’t anything to lose sleep over.
However, Ryland Grace was an exception to your rule.
SAY IT WITH ME!!!🚨:
Fanfic writers DO NOT OWE YOU ANYTHING! We write for FREE, for FUN, for ENJOYMENT that we hope to spread with other likeminded people.
This is my blog, for me; your blog and your dashboard is for you. If there is something you dislike, then BLOCK IT! Curate your own internet experience.Don’t let me ruin your fun, but don’t ruin mine, either.
If you would not say it to the stranger’s face, then it doesn’t belong in their inbox; if you don’t enjoy a certain kind of content, assume it’s not for you and scroll away.
It’s sad and it makes writers like me not want to write in an otherwise extremely supportive community.
Reblog to spread the Gospel <3
hard launch idea: you come back from the fbi looking like you came back from hell and i touch foreheads with you and whisper to you in a foreign language and touch your face and threaten everyone who comes near you and stare at you and almost kiss you while all of our friends, our coach, and some police officers watch

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lovebirdsss
Imagine this...
warnings : friend's ex-boyfriend; stealing money; intimidation; some violence; terrified Holland
Holland March [The Nice Guys] x Reader
Your friend has just been robbed by her now ex-boyfriend. The money she'd been saving for a new car is gone. She's devastated, crying, completely heartbroken. You want to help. After some thought, you decide that calling in Jackson Healy would be the easiest solution. He'd get the money back without breaking a sweat, though her ex would probably end up regretting his life choices afterward.
Unfortunately, your boyfriend, Holland March, overhears the conversation. And for reasons known only to Holland March, he immediately feels obligated to help. You try talking him out of it, but it's too late. He's already emotionally invested, mentally committed, and probably imagining himself as some kind of heroic private investigator.
That evening, the two of you drive to Michael's apartment. The building isn't exactly inviting, and Holland notices that immediately. As you're walking toward the entrance, you suddenly remember that you've left something in the car. Holland waits by the door, already halfway through his third cigarette, trying and failing to hide how nervous he is. His brain is probably screaming that this was a terrible idea.
You return a moment later. "Babe, isn't there another way to handle this?" Holland asks as you enter the building and start climbing the stairs toward the fourth floor. "Maybe a mediator?" "You'll be fine." "That's not really reassuring." "Besides, this asshole is impossible to talk to." "You know violence isn't the answer, right?" he says. "I tell Holly that all the time." "This will take ten minutes, tops."
You stop in front of a battered apartment door. "You knocking, or am I?" Michael is clearly surprised to see the two of you. He's obviously been drinking. The smell of beer and cigarettes rolls out of the apartment as he looks you both over. "She sent you?" he scoffs, pointing at you. Then he eyes Holland. "And you brought some clown with you?" "Private investigator," you reply. You feel Holland shift proudly behind you. "The best in the city."
Michael snorts. "We came for the money you took," Holland says. "The money you stole," you correct. "The money that, due to an unfortunate misunderstanding, you mistakenly considered your own," Holland continues smoothly. "I'm sure you never intended for her to…" "He fucking stole it!" Your raised voice echoes down the hallway.
"Doll," Michael says, pointing a finger at you, "if you don't shut that pretty mouth of yours, we're gonna have a different conversation." That gets Holland moving. "Don't threaten her." Michael laughs. "Or what? What are you gonna do, clown? Your pants are so tight I don't even know how you made it up the stairs."
He starts closing the door. The conversation is over or at least he thinks it is. Then your hand slams against the door hard enough to make both men freeze. "We're not done talking." Your voice comes out as a growl. "Give the money back, asshole." "Are you insane?" Michael takes half a step backward. That turns out to be a mistake. Because Holland suddenly realizes why you went back to the car.
A baseball bat flashes through the air in your hand. You push your way into the apartment. "Shit!" Holland yelps, stumbling after you. "You owe her six hundred dollars!" you snap. "You can hand it over nicely, or I start by breaking your fingers and then…" "She's crazy!" Michael shouts at Holland. "Control her!" "That seems highly unlikely at this point," Holland admits helplessly. "Honey…" "Not now." You shoot him a look. Something in your eyes makes him immediately reconsider whatever argument he was about to make.
"Six hundred dollars. Now." "Or what?" Michael mocks. The answer comes a second later. The baseball bat whistles through the air and crashes into a glass coffee table. The table explodes. Glass scatters across the carpet. You take a slow breath. "I've been quite emotional lately, Michael." The bat points toward the television. "Don't make it worse."
"Shit!" Holland squeaks. Michael pales. "Okay! Okay! Jesus!" He rushes to a dresser and starts digging through a drawer. Moments later, he pulls out an envelope. You immediately recognize your friend's handwriting. He extends it toward you. You glance at Holland. "Count it."
Like an obedient assistant, Holland takes the envelope, counts the cash, and nods. "It's all here." "Good." You smile. The kind of smile that makes Michael look even more nervous. Stepping closer, you rest the baseball bat against your shoulder. "If I ever see you near her again..." Your voice drops to almost a whisper. "Then he'll deal with you." You nod toward Holland. Michael's eyes move between the two of you. Eventually, he swallows and nods.
Neither of you says a word until you're outside. You take the envelope from Holland and tuck it into your pocket while heading back toward the car. Holland trails several steps behind. Only when you reach the vehicle does he finally find his voice again. "What the hell was that?" "Negotiation." "That was violence!" You toss the bat into the back seat and look at his shaken expression. "I got upset when he called you a clown." You shrug. "And when he said your pants were too tight. They aren't."
Holland stares. Then swallows hard. "If we ever break up," he says carefully, "I'm giving you the house. No negotiations." You grin and open the passenger door. "That was kind of hot." Holland remains frozen beside the car. "Don't ever tell Healy that," he says. "He'll probably propose to you or something. Jesus Christ..." He quickly circles the car and climbs into the driver's seat. Nothing had terrified him this much in a very long time. And Holland March knows one thing for certain: Neither of you is getting any sleep tonight.
☾ ⋆➜ Snuggled between Ryland's legs and he's careening his head onto your shoulder, looking down at what you're doing and making small comments, jokes or teases. His hot breath is against the your neck.
☾ ⋆➜ Perched in Holland's lap and he's got his arm wrapped around your waist. He's got a cigarette in his mouth, keeps him from kissing your neck 24/7. Not his fault you take it away from him and dive for a hungry kiss.
☾ ⋆➜ Sitting next to Lars at church and your thighs are kissing from your proximity. His eyes keep looking at your hand in your lap, his fingers twitching. He wants nothing more than to grab, but he's not sure how.
☾ ⋆➜ Sitting in the bed of Colt's truck, looking out at the desert night sky. Your legs are tangled under a thin blanket, all that's really needed as you're curled next to him as he boasts about the stunt he nailed today.
☾ ⋆➜ Straddling Driver in his car after climbing over the middle console. Your back is digging into the steering wheel, his gloved hands under your shirt and pressing into your skin so heatedly, like you're all he needs.
☾ ⋆➜ The neon signs of the city bleed into the slick pavement. K's not holding you, but his presense is solid beside you until he shifts to reach out, catching a raindrop on his fingertip as it trailed down your cheek, fingers trembling.
☾ ⋆➜ Court's body is a tense line of muscles sheilding you from the dangers of the outside world. One hand is braced beside your head while the other is on your hip, a silent, grounding pressure in the suffocating quiet.
☾ ⋆➜ Sitting on a porch swing with Noah as the twilight settles, the humid air thick with the scent of foliage. His arm is draped along the back of the swing, fingers just barely grazing your shoulder, a teasing invitation.
May I add?
> finishing a closing shift on Seb’s while Sebastian plays alone on his piano in the stage as usual. Undoing the tie of the apron and putting it away before going up stage and pulling yourself up sitting on the top of the piano before pairing with him singing. ending up both with joyful and endearing smiles for the shared passion on jazz and on each other that wasn’t yet expressed but felt.
purely self indulgent sundaydriver sorry guys
Drive(2011) Vroum vroum 🏎️

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Coltland Twins AU but they’re actually triplets with Sebastian from La La Land
an evening show.
summary: holland is making a big fuss out of holly inviting you to her upcoming school play. he’s pleasantly surprised by the way you show up for the both of them. (based on this textpost // anon)
pairing: holland march x gn!reader
word count: 2.6k
tags: fluff and humor, domestic fluff, established relationship, developing relationship, family bonding, bickering and bad flirting w/ march, make-outs, basically co-parenting, holland smoking (canon), pervy!holland, pet names used (hon, baby), holly and healy featured, gn!reader
cross-posted to ao3
“You don’t have to go. You can say, ‘no, thank you,’ and she won’t bat an eye,” Holland insists. Holly’s in the living room with Healy, talking over some film noir movie running on the box TV. They might as well shut it off, both equally entranced by the conversation at hand. Holly has her knees tucked up to her chest, and she’s telling Healy eagerly about her part in the school play. To your surprise, Healy’s much more of a Broadway fanatic than you’d ever expect. Very indulged in high culture.
“Look at her,” Holland murmurs to you, “She probably won’t even notice if you’re not in the crowd; there’ll be so many heads.” He’s drawing on straws, still. There’s another point he finds abruptly, probably the most obvious of the bunch: “And she’s backstage! You’re not even going to see her sing or dance or anything.”
So, Holly’s doing the lights. She’s been fancying technical theatre the whole year, and she’s got a real knack for spotlighting. Holland’s been telling you it’s genetics. He’s got perfect aim—a bit of an exaggeration, you think, but you’d never tell him otherwise. Holly asked you just an hour earlier, over dinner, if you’d want to attend her show. Two complimentary tickets, one for Dad and one for you. Healy isn’t offended in the slightest; he’d gotten the Christmas showcase, so it’s only fair. It’s about time you’d get to one of Holly’s shows.
It’s a major milestone. But, since dinner, Holland’s been offering up excuse after excuse for you to bail. You’ve already said yes to Holly, and you’re not quite sure what the problem is. What you do know is that your boyfriend’s self-made calamity is making you impatient. “If you don’t want me to go, Holland, just say so.”
“That—now, that’s not what I said.” He raises his right hand up to take another hit off his cigarette, before blowing the smoke out at an angle away from your face. “I’m just giving you an out. You could be busy that evening, I don’t know.”
“That’s so funny, because we spend basically every evening together when you’re not working.” It’s nothing out of the ordinary; ever since you’ve been dating Holland, you’re either at the house, he’s treating you out to dinner, he’s kissing your neck at a drive-in movie… You take your index finger and your thumb up to snatch the cigarette out of Holland’s hands. He tries to take it back, one arm swinging around your waist to hold you still. You wrestle away easily, trying not to be swayed by the sensation of Holland’s hips pinning your own down.
rotating the triplets in my brain
how we fell apart 🥀
choose me. l Sebastian Wilder
Sebastian Wilder [La La Land] x Reader
warnings : feeling of being left out; a few hurtful words; tears
note : another evening when you waited for him, and the one when you finally broke
[Ryland Grace masterlist][main masterlist] [how we fell apart series]
The worst fights were never the loud ones. But the quiet ones. The ones that slipped in unnoticed and waited patiently until both of you were vulnerable enough. Then they sank beneath your skin, into your bloodstream, and made you hurt each other with surgical precision. No shouting. Because sometimes words hurt more when they're spoken softly. Maybe that was the problem.
It started like any other night. Another dinner gone cold while you waited for Sebastian. Another promise he hadn't kept. Another evening spent swallowing the ache in your throat as you fought back tears.
His club was doing well. Oh,better than well. You were proud of him. Every glowing review, every sold-out night, every successful performance, you celebrated all of it. Nobody was happier for him than you were.
Here is the thing… when I said I wanted more of Sebastian Wilder, I didn’t mean DRAGGING ME DOWN on the way!
but great work as always ugh.
Guess I am gonna go find out why the city of star is shining just for me for a bit.
I'm sorry, baby....
It’s okay, from you it’s the good kind of heartbreak so I accept my fate
europa‧₊˚♪ 𝄞𝄢 | “i’m your jazz singer, and you’re my cult leader.” [hcs]
sebastian wilder x jazz singer!fem!reader
—strangers to coworkers (?) to lovers
𝄢 sebastian only hires you because his actual friday night singer cancels three hours before opening. he’s already stressed out of his mind when you arrive. he spends most of the afternoon pacing around the club muttering to himself while staff avoid eye contact. he’s sweaty, irritated, sleeves rolled to his elbows, while he argues with somebody over the phone about “musical integrity.”
𝄢 then the door opens. and everything goes quiet in his head for a second. because you walk into the club like you’ve already belonged there for years. elegant in this effortless old-hollywood kind of way. gold silk dress, gold hoops catching the warm amber lighting, lipstick perfect despite the rain outside. ridiculously calm.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
how we fell apart 🥀
choose me. l Sebastian Wilder
Sebastian Wilder [La La Land] x Reader
warnings : feeling of being left out; a few hurtful words; tears
note : another evening when you waited for him, and the one when you finally broke
[Ryland Grace masterlist][main masterlist] [how we fell apart series]
The worst fights were never the loud ones. But the quiet ones. The ones that slipped in unnoticed and waited patiently until both of you were vulnerable enough. Then they sank beneath your skin, into your bloodstream, and made you hurt each other with surgical precision. No shouting. Because sometimes words hurt more when they're spoken softly. Maybe that was the problem.
It started like any other night. Another dinner gone cold while you waited for Sebastian. Another promise he hadn't kept. Another evening spent swallowing the ache in your throat as you fought back tears.
His club was doing well. Oh,better than well. You were proud of him. Every glowing review, every sold-out night, every successful performance, you celebrated all of it. Nobody was happier for him than you were.
Here is the thing… when I said I wanted more of Sebastian Wilder, I didn’t mean DRAGGING ME DOWN on the way!
but great work as always ugh.
Guess I am gonna go find out why the city of star is shining just for me for a bit.
always think of this meme when this scene comes up