#interlude 1 part 3

[dallonwrites]

THINK i am halfway through this chapter it just Feels Right, though based on what i know needs to happen i feel like the second half will be longer and the first half is 4.5k so like, laugh out loud !

[bitchkay]

I prefer Guys characterization in the princes path rather then his consort route

I feel like all the routes should've progressed slower tbh but with Guy in particular I feel like it would really work with a slow burn romance

Also, unrelated but MC always falls in love with her chosen consort by chapter 10 like girl you've known this man for 2 weeks

[samzikei]

Hmmm... Something about the new shopkeep next door seems sus.

print available on etsy

on twitter

speedpaint video

extra 1 | extra 2 | Comic Part 1 | Comic Part 2 | Comic Part 3 | Comic Part 4 | Comic Part 5 | Comic Part 6 | Comic Part 7 | Comic Part 8 | MUSIC PLAYLIST | Comic Part 9 | Comic Part 10 | Comic Part 11 | Comic Part 12 | Comic Part 13 | LORE PAGE | art | art | Comic Part 14 | Interlude Part 15 |

[rhaenyraeri]

Co-Star Tensions - Jack O’Connell

based off this behind the scenes picture hehe

minors dni!! 18+ only!!

Part 1, Part 2, Interlude, Part 3

Summary: You and your costars were called back for some reshoots, and one night after a long day of filming, something unexpected happens.

Pairing: Jack O’Connell x fem!Reader (and technically Remmick x fem!Reader?)

Warnings: it is filth y’all, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, there be’est role play involved, some swearing, i’m not great at writing smut unfortunately

Note: this is an rpf (real person fic) so i encourage that if you don’t like that, please keep scrolling. i’ve never wrote one of these before but i felt compelled to lol. also if there are any mistakes pls let me know 🫶

The tension could, almost literally, be cut with a knife on the set. Everyone could tell, but no one would say it. They wouldn’t speak about how you and Jack had scenes just barely near each other, but you both gravitated closer. No one would dare mention how hard you locked in on him when filming the scene with vampire Bert, how he sat in the rocking chair covered in fake blood.. there was something about it. Something, dare you say, carnal, was awakening in you.

The nights you yearned to touch him, yearned to just have your hands on him, sexually or not. The nights just hoping he felt the same way. Just watching him in his element, such a talented actor and great man, having the honor to work alongside him. He just had that charm about him, and that charm resonated into Remmick. You wanted him, and you wanted Remmick. Two birds, one stone.

There were just a few nights of filming left, and the two of you had spoken earlier in the day about how sad it was to say goodbye to a wonderful cast and to people you’d grown to call friends. Some scenes needed some touch ups, and others need reshoots due to new ideas flourishing from the director.

—————

Walking past the set to your makeup artist’s camper, you noticed a figure in the dark. Leaned back in the rocking chair, in the corner of the darkened room used for a reshoot earlier that day. The light in the corner cast a slight shadow onto the figure and you stopped to get a better look. It was Jack, still dressed in the bloody Remmick costume from the scene filmed earlier with Joan and Bert. The way he looked at you after ran chills up your spine. He caught you staring from the sidelines of the crew. Tensions were already high due to your character and Jack’s being romantic partners, and having to say filthy shit to each other had you reeling, yearning for it to have meaning behind it.

“Hey baby,” he spoke, that thick southern drawl that Remmick had came out. Your mouth dropped slightly, your hands holding your belongings slowly lowering. He was staring right at you, that was meant for you. He slowly began rocking, eyes never leaving you. “You gonna come on over here, darlin’? I’ve been waitin’ for you.”

Oh, what the southern drawl did to you. You didn’t think it’d corral you into him like this but it did. That thick accent made you swoon, in and out of character. Seeing him calling out to you, and you alone, warmed you up.

“Come on now, lass. You just gonna leave ol’ Rem hangin’?”

Ah. So this is how he’s gonna be. Jack wants you, and he’s going to do it in true vampiric Remmick nature. He’s luring you in.

Realizing you’d better play the part, you close your eyes and get into character. You dropped your items and starting making your way to him.

“There she is… there’s my girl. I’ve missed you,” shaking his head slightly, still rocking in the chair. Your feet clicked against the concrete floor almost antagonizingly slow, your eyes never left his, and you felt your body heat up. Crossing onto the wood, the change of energy set the mood. There he was, still covered in that fake blood from earlier, dripping right over his face and down his neck. The lights of the set were all either off or dim, save for this one hanging overhead. Just enough to hit him like a spotlight.

“I’m sorry, Remmy. I didn’t mean to make you wait on me. Are you upset at me, baby?,” you spoke to him. You could watch as those words made every hair on him stand up, the gulp traveled down his throat, and his hand gripped the armrest. His foot started to shake a little. You put on those big puppy dog eyes your character has when she looks at her lover. Slowly, you stepped closer and closer to him, walking behind the chair and putting your hands on his shoulders. You leaned down to his neck, right beside his ear and said, “I’m here now, baby. Did you need somethin’?”

“I just missed you, darlin’. Missed your touch, your voice… your face. Lord, that face of yours,” he admired as a hand reach beside him and held your cheek. The tension you two had all lead up to this moment. You took your hand and ran it up his arm and over his that was placed on your face, locking your fingers into his. Taking your other hand off of his shoulder, you walked in front of him, and used your free hand to touch his face in return.

“You’ve made a mess, Rem. But you look just as handsome as always.”

“Nah, darlin’, this ain’t no mess. A mess is what you’ve made me into, and I think you know just how to clean it up.”

Did you? Did he want you to touch him? Fuck him? Be with him? This is all new to you, this role playing thing. Not to mention it being with a man you’ve admired for so long, and just hoped that one day you’d be able to have him this way. This was your chance to finally have what you wished for.

Your eyes left his, scanning down his body in that outfit that made you an unstable wreck, and stopped at his pants. Smirking, you nodded, and stood between his now open legs. He took his free hand and grabbed your waist, bringing you closer to him. His body was practically calling out to you, you could feel how badly he wanted you, and he could feel you the same way. You bit your lip, and got on your knees.

“Oh, Rem. You got this worked up over me? I can’t just let you suffer, can I, my love?”

He gulped hard, biting his lip and hardening his lock on you.

“Nah, I don’t think that’d be very kind of you.”

“I didn’t think it would.”

Your hand left his face, running down his neck, chest, then stomach, and finally ending at his suspenders and pants. Your fingers got to work fast on his buckles and buttons, as you wanted him more than you could imagine. You wanted to taste him. You were going to. That was certain between the two of you.

Pulling off his pants and underwear in one movement, they fell to his ankles. He was hard for you. Thinking about how you walked on the set each day, head held so high and you were so passionate about your work. So passionate about the project.. about your characters. About him, he wished.

You kissed his tip, making sure to keep that eye contact. A guttural moan left him and you felt your heart flutter with pride, excitement, and admiration for the man in front of you. Your right hand came down to wrap around him, moving it up slowly, taking in what you’re about to do to him. Stroking him for a few more moments, you grew impatient. You wanted the taste of him, and you wanted the feeling of having the man you’ve pined over for months in you finally. Leaning back down, you opened your mouth and ran your tongue down the length of his dick. Stopping at the top after a few times of going up and down, you sucked, letting your tongue roam around him. You hummed against him, the sensation making him let another low, sexy moan out. Your head began to bob up and down, and your cheeks hollowed out as you went as far as you could. Your eyes closed, humming as you sucked on him. You felt his hand trace your jaw and entangle itself into your hair, grabbing a loose fist full of it and guiding you.

Deciding it was enough, he used his grip on your hair to pull you off him, and got a good look at your face. Your eyes filled with lust met his eyes, matching the same level of desire that you had.

“Stand up, I want you to try somethin’ out for me,” he said, breath shaky, as he ran his hands up your costume dress, and pulled your underwear down, “good, now we’re even.”

He put a hand on your waist, guiding you down to his thigh, using his grip to rock you back and forth over it. You grabbed his shoulder with one hand, and the top of the chair with other, now guiding yourself across with his assistance still being used.

“Oh, yeah. You like that, huh? Grindin’ on my thigh all desperate like. ‘Cause that’s what you are, desperate, right?” That drawl invoked a loud and, like he said, desperate moan from you, right into his ear. The hand on his shoulder now gripped his hair, holding him closer to you.

“I saw you watching me from the sidelines. You wanted me so bad, now you’ve got me. This is what you wanted, right? You’ve made me a damn mess, girl.”

His façade as Remmick was now gone, and it was his pure intentions coming out of him. That accent change damn near made you release then and there, but you were too lost in the feeling of his warm thigh against your pussy as you took out your sexual yearning on it. His other hand ran between your body and his, rubbing your clit, and he took his fingers to his mouth. He made sure to get your eyes to look into his as he savored your arousal. The fake blood mixed into his mouth a little as he finally got a taste of the beauty before him.

“You couldn’t be the only one that got a little taste, huh, darling?”

That was enough to get you off, and you came hard onto him. His moans from seeing you getting yourself off to a part of him that wasn’t even sexual filled your ears as you moaned into his ear, wrapping your arms around his neck as you came down from your high. You stayed like this for a few minutes until you both calmed down. You raised up, running a hand over his chest before placing it around his heart.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted you. Not even just like this, you know? You’re special, you’re beautiful. Absolutely perfect. D’you want to go out sometime? Properly get to hang out?”

You smiled, nodding along with the idea.

“I’d love to. I hoped for so damn long that you felt that way, too, you handsome devil.”

“Handsome vampire, get it right.”

You giggled, leaning in to give him a kiss.

“Oh, and for future reference, just know that was hot as fuck.”

“Duly noted, love.”

[contact-guy]

helloooo this is a MASTER POST of my Sherlock Holmes annotations, aka shitpost doodles of my favorite parts with occasional headcanons. I will pin this so it's available and update it as I go because this feels like it's becoming a full series, god help me.

I'm reading the stories in the order they occurred (according to Baring-Gould, who I am currently arm wrestling in the astral plane over how many wives Watson had) so that's how I will present them!

EDIT: decided to draw them in the order that makes sense to me, Baring-Gould you’re too silly

EDIT 2: this is basically a webcomic at this point, with ongoing continuity and a romantic storyline that can be enjoyed if you read in order. I did not intend this, but I have Sherlock Holmes disease and there's only one cure (doing this)

EDIT 3: content warning/advertisement depending on your temperament: this series gets into one of my big interests, historical queerness, period accurate homophobia, and how laws around queerness affected lived experience. it also has things that you can expect from a Sherlock Holmes story like: drug use involving needles, violence, flagrant use of old timey guns, and people dying in shocking and mysterious ways!

Copies of Volume 1 can be ordered here!

A Study in Scarlet 🩸

The Speckled Band 🐍

The Resident Patient 🩺

The Noble Bachelor 👰

The Second Stain 📮

The Reigate Squires 📝

The Dancing Men 👯‍♂️

Silver Blaze 🏇🏻

The Six Napoleons ⚫️

The Red Circle 🕯️🪟

The Greek Interpreter 🩹

Mycroft Interlude 🎩

The Beryl Coronet 🥪

The Yellow Face 🙂

The Hound of the Baskervilles 🐺

-Part One

-Part Two

-Part Three

-Part Four

-Part Five

-Part Six

-Part Seven

The Gloria Scott ⚓️

The Valley of Fear 🏰

-Part One

-Part Two

Shoscombe Old Place 🎣

Charles Augustus Milverton 💌

-Part One

-Part Two

-Part Three

-Part Four

-Part Five

The Copper Beeches ✂️

-Part One

-Part Two

The Sign of the Four ��

-Part One

-Part Two

-Part Three

-Part Four

-Part Five

-Illustration

-Part Six

-Part Seven

The Cardboard Box 📦👂🏻

Second Interlude 💒

A Scandal In Bohemia 💃

-Part One

-Part Two

-Part Three

The Stockbrokers Clerk 🦷

The Engineer’s Thumb 👍🏻

The Crooked Man 🦝

The Naval Treaty 🌹

The Five Orange Pips ���

The Man With The Twisted Lip 🧽

-Part One

-Part Two

The Boscombe Valley Mystery 🪨

-Part One

-Part Two

-Part Three

The Dying Detective 🦪

-Part One

-Part Two

-Part Three

Christmas Eve, 1890 🎄

-Part One

-Part Two

-Part Three

The Blue Carbuncle 🪿💎

-Part One

-Part Two

-Part Three

-Part Four

The Blanched Soldier 🪖

The Final Problem 🏔️

-Part One

-Part Two

-Part Three

-Part Four

-Part Five

-Part Six

-Part Seven

-Part Eight

-Part Nine

-Part Ten

-Part Eleven

The Empty House 👤

-Part One

-Part Two

-Part Three

-Part Four

-Part Five

-Part Six

A Case of Identity 💍

-Part One

-Part Two

The Red Headed League 👨‍🦰

-Part One

-Part Two

[codename-adler]

51.

Trojans interlude ft. the long overdue introduction of the myth the them the legend Cody Winter 🤙 and a little something… extra? oh lord Kevin does it again… but for once it’s not Neil 🤷‍♀️ thank you Nora for that stroke of inspiration <3 @givemethedamnflowers regarde comme il grandit vite notre petit Jean 🥹

[Ophelia Knox is Jeremy’s baby sister, see parts 20, Baby Pics pt.1 and 27 or #oc: ophelia knox for context]

Jean reply transl. (mine):

“You really do have the IQ of a shovel actually”

-> aftg socmed au masterlist

as always, holler if y’all wanne get on/off that tag list :)

tag fam: @sapphoherselz <3 @minyard-05 @you-know-i-get-itt @andrewsleftarmband @millportisntreal @glendover @the-circumstances @tessasilverswan @larkspire @detectivebambam @ohmpunn @youdontknowhowtodiequietly @pink-hydrangea @allfor-thegames @jjjosten @little2nerdy @jean-yvesning @buffalo-fox @monster-with-an-attitude-problem @captain-sunshine-11 @inafieldofstarflowers @moon-over-ruined-castle @mqmneee @carbon-dated-gal @fieldsofpoppies-in-salt-air @ienvysomegays @jdreaming @mqmneee @anxiouslyandmessily @min-getoutofmy-yard @iseethestarsyouseethedarkness @clavicuss-vile @vellichor-lover @jctko @mineyardjostenrivalry @qixjone @cupofmaddy @hellonthengine @amphibianisconcerned @givemethedamnflowers

[spicy-apple-pie]

Adopted Damian AU Index

Brief overview of the AU

Arc 1: Who's your Daddy?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Arc 2: Welcome to the family

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Interlude

Part 8

Arc 3: A Breaking Point

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Interlude

Part 13

Arc 4: What could have been

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Arc 5: Who’s Really Your Daddy

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Interlude

Part 24

Part 25

Arc 6: 4th of July

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Part 35

Part 36

Part 37

Part 38

Part 39

Interlude

Part 40

Arc 7: Mother Dearest

Part 41

Part 42

Part 43

Part 44

Part 45

Part 46

Arc 8: Decisions, Decisions

Part 47

Part 48

Part 49

Part 50

Part 51

Part 52

Part 53

Arc 9: Fateful Meeting

Part 54

Part 55

Part 56

Part 57

Part 58

Part 59

Part 60

Part 61

Part 62

Part 63

Part 64

Part 65

Part 66

Part 67

Part 68

Part 69 (nice)

Part 70

Part 71

Part 72

Part 73

Part 74

Part 75

Part 76

Part 77

Part 78

Part 79

Part 80

Part 81

Part 82

[valeisaslut]

⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. three

credits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄,

𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟 →

⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ synopsis: A single Instagram story accidentally hard-launches something that isn’t even real. Or at least, isn’t supposed to be. A fake date at an overpriced restaurant turns into a game of push and pull, stolen glances, and tension so thick it’s impossible to ignore. You tell yourself it’s nothing, but at 3 AM, you’re alone in the studio, writing lyrics you shouldn’t be writing, thinking about her in ways you shouldn’t be thinking. And then Ellie texts. And suddenly, the lines you’ve been so desperate to keep blurred don’t seem so thin. 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 7,5k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content: smut, top!ellie, sub!reader, fingering (r!receiving), praise, tit play, begging, edging, being recorded, pet names, fake dating, LOTS of cursing, use of y/n, modern au, mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, afab!reader, multiple part series, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

TMZ EXCLUSIVE: Y/N AND ELLIE WILLIAMS HARD-LAUNCH—AND THE INTERNET IS IN SHAMBLES! 🔥🚨

Los Angeles, CA – Buckle up, besties. If you thought Y/N’s infamous walk of shame was the peak of her chaotic love life—oh, sweet summer child, think again. 👀

Because last night? She didn’t just confirm her situationship with Ellie Williams.

Oh, no.

She hard-launched it with the subtlety of a car crash. A 50-car pileup on the freeway of gay panic.

And it was GLORIOUS.

HERE’S HOW IT WENT DOWN:

At exactly 3:17 AM (because of course, the chaos begins at that hour), our favorite pop star dropped the bomb on Instagram in the most unhinged, beautiful way possible. 

The post? Ellie Williams, peak domestic chaos, sprawled on y/n’s couch like she just got evicted from a frat house. Hair a mess, tattoos flexing, wearing nothing but a tank top and sweats, scrolling through her phone like she’s too cool to care. And the coup de grâce? In front of her—a post-Taco Bell battlefield so disastrous it could get them both banned from the establishment for life.

But the caption? Oh, the caption sealed the deal:

“she eats like a mf frat boy but somehow still looks hot. life is unfair.”

And as if the chaos wasn’t already unhinged enough—oh yeah, they were absolutely high. Very high. The kind of high that makes you think posting your girlfriend looking like a hot human raccoon on the couch is a brilliant PR move. 👀🍃

And you know what?

She was right.

THE INTERNET MELTDOWN, A PLAY-BY-PLAY:

Within seconds—literally, SECONDS—Twitter went into full-blown DEFCON 1 over the fact that two of the most famous musicians on the planet had just hard-launched their situationship like it was a surprise album drop.

Hashtags?

🔹 #YNandEllie → #1 worldwide 🔹 #HardLaunchOfTheCentury → A cultural reset 🔹 #TacoBellSponsorshipWHEN → Officially liked by Taco Bell

Fan reactions? 

📌 Gay Twitter? Collapsed.

📌 Stan accounts? Frothing at the mouth.

📌 The straights? Confused, scared, and overwhelmed.

Meme accounts went feral. In less than ten minutes, there were already:

☑️ Fan edits set to indie love songs ☑️ AI-generated wedding invitations ☑️ A Change.org petition for them to adopt a dog or a cat together. ☑️ The Wikipedia page for “lesbianism” updated with the post

Even Netflix got involved:

“This has more plot than anything we released this year.”

Meanwhile, Taco Bell issued a statement:

“Ellie & y/n—free Crunchwraps for life if you let us cater the wedding.”

BUT WAIT— WHAT ABOUT THE WALK OF SHAME?

Let’s rewind. Less than 24 hours before this nuclear-level hard launch, y/n was caught leaving The Four Seasons at sunrise, looking like she had just gone three rounds with fate itself.

And whose hotel was it? Oh, you already know— Ellie Williams’.

And now, here we are. Less than a day later, and these two have skipped the “we’re just friends” gaslighting phase entirely. No damage control. No frantic PR statements. Just pure, unfiltered chaos.💥

We have never seen a sneaky link accept its fate this fast.

SO, WHAT HAPPENS NOW?

Absolute radio silence from both of them. Ellie’s only move? Liking a tweet that said:

“The stages of sneaky links: 1) Deny. 2) Get caught. 3) Accept your fate.”

Meanwhile, y/n—aka the woman who just revealed to the entire world that she is down horrendously bad for her formerly alleged situationship-sneaky link-wife-girlfriend?— Probably just vibing with the chaos she just caused.

One thing’s for sure: this isn’t just a fling anymore.

Stay tuned. 😏🔥

🔗RELATED: TMZ EXCLUSIVE: Y/N’S MYSTERIOUS WALK OF SHAME… STRAIGHT OUT OF ELLIE WILLIAMS’ HOTEL? 👀🔥

────────────

❤️ 15M — 💬 525,76k

The thing about PR nightmares is that they don’t wait for you to wake up, brush your teeth, and ease into your morning with a cup of coffee and the false hope that today will be a quiet one. 

No. They come in swinging into your life like a wrecking ball, uninvited and merciless, dragging you out of your peaceful oblivion straight into a digital inferno.

By the time you fully grasp the severity of the situation, both of your faces are everywhere. The internet has already devoured every single detail and spat it back out in the form of conspiracy theories and enough memes to fuel an entire generation’s humor.

Twitter is a minefield of hot takes. Instagram is worse—a visual onslaught of dissected moments, captions teetering between adoration and sheer lunacy.

The gossip pages have lost all chill—headlines range from mildly invasive ("Is This The Couple of the Year?"),  to outright deranged ("Leaked Timeline of y/n and Ellie Williams’s Secret Romance—Are They ALREADY Engaged?!").

And then there are the memes.

Oh, God, the memes. You want to be mad, you really do—but some of them? Undeniably hilarious. The internet, when motivated, can be disturbingly creative. You’d probably laugh your ass off if your life wasn’t currently being sacrificed at the altar of social media hysteria.

You don’t even realize you’ve been doom-scrolling until Ellie’s voice slices through the thick silence of your apartment.

“You look like you’re watching your own funeral.”

You jolt so fast your phone nearly goes flying out of your hands. Spinning around, you find her standing in your kitchen, barefoot, sleep-mussed, and nursing a cup of coffee like she hasn’t just casually walked into the eye of a social media hurricane. The mug in her hands—the one she picked out of your weird mug collection—boldly declares: “Lesbians Fear Me, Bisexuals Love Me, Straight People Think I’m Just Going Through a Phase.”

Goddamn it, that’s one of your favorites.

You groan and collapse face-first onto the couch, voice muffled into the cushions. “Ellie, we are so fucked.”

She snorts, padding over with the kind of calm that only someone who thrives in chaos can pull off. “Nah. We just need to, y’know… do something before Rachel bursts into flames.”

Oh, right. Rachel.

Your manager has texted you no fewer than a hundred times since sunrise. The last message, sent precisely at 6:12 AM, had been chilling in its simplicity:

Rachel: Fix this.

Easier said than done.

You exhale sharply, rolling onto your back, phone clutched to your chest like it might explode. “This is a disaster.”

Ellie, looking entirely unbothered by the world-ending-level of public meltdown currently unfolding, plops onto the couch beside you. She stretches out, propping her feet on the coffee table—your coffee table, in your apartment.

“Look,” she says, reaching over to steal a cold fry from last night’s half-eaten takeout “we only have one option: owning the narrative.”

You press your hands over your face, groaning.

The problem is, she isn’t wrong. If you lean into it—carefully, tactfully—you might actually steer the storm instead of getting swallowed by it.

Ellie, still lounging like this is all some elaborate joke for her own amusement, nudges you with her foot. “We should make a post.”

You blink at her. “Like… an official statement?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. Something like that. Vague, casual. Let people read into it however they want.”

Your stomach twists. The internet already thinks it knows what’s happening—does it really matter what you say at this point?

“And if it backfires?”

Ellie chews thoughtfully. Swallows. Shrugs again. “Then we fake-break up in, like, two months and traumatize the entire internet.”

You snort despite yourself, the first crack in your anxiety. “Jesus Christ.”

She grins, eyes glinting. “That’s the spirit.”

“Fine” you mutter. “Let’s write the damn thing.”

With a sigh, you sit up and pull up Instagram. Ellie shifts closer, propping her chin on your shoulder, watching as your fingers hover uncertainly over the keyboard. The warmth of her breath against your skin is distracting.

Ellie reaches over, steals another fry—practically from your lap this time. “Make sure you put something about Taco Bell sponsoring us. I spent more than a hundred bucks last night.”

You roll your eyes but start typing.

OFFICIAL STATEMENT March 10, 2025 Regarding Recent Speculation So, yeah. We’re together. Hope that clears things up. What started as an unexpected friendship has grown into something we both value deeply. While this wasn’t exactly how we planned to share our relationship with the world, we appreciate the love and support from those who have been kind and respectful. As for the rest, go touch some grass. Please. At the end of the day, we’re just two people trying to live our lives, except with a few more cameras in our faces and significantly less chill.  From here on out, we’d like to keep the focus on what actually matters to us: music, minding our own business, and continuing to order unreasonable amounts of (pls sponsor us) Taco Bell. Much love,

y/n & Ellie🤍

The second you hit ‘Post’ on the Instagram story, your phone practically detonates.

Notifications flood in like a tsunami, buzzing so aggressively it might just explode in your hand. Your screen lights up in a relentless cascade of likes, retweets, and absolute chaos. Tweets skyrocket in real-time. Comments pour in at an overwhelming speed. Chaotic posts multiply by the second, some so unhinged you can’t even begin to process them. Already wildly inaccurate headlines spread like wildfire.

Ellie, still beside you, scrolls lazily through them, smirking. “They’re losing their minds.”

You groan, dropping your phone onto the couch and pressing your palms into your eyes. “This is so unhinged.”

Ellie tilts her head at you, the picture of nonchalance. “Eh. Could’ve been worse.”

You peek at her warily. “How?”

Her grin is pure mischief, eyes glinting with the kind of chaos that should come with a warning label.

“We could’ve gone live.”

You roll your eyes and smack her with a pillow.

Ellie was half-draped over her couch, the cigarette dangling from her lips two seconds from ashing onto her hoodie. She was strumming the most butchered, off-key version of Stairway to Heaven the world had ever suffered through—on purpose, because it was funnier that way.

Her phone buzzed against her stomach. She groaned, rolling her eyes so hard she nearly saw last week, took one last drag from her cigarette before grinding it out in an old mug, and checked the caller ID.

Rachel.

Ellie groaned harder, the sound escalating into something inhuman as she debated the pros and cons of throwing her phone across the room. Ultimately, she answered, pressing the speaker button because lifting her arm was simply too much work.

“How the fuck did you both get my number—”

“Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. You and y/n. Dinner. Pick her up. Fancy but not too fancy. Cozy but not too cozy. Like honeymoon phase but still fresh. Got it?”

She bulldozed through her sentence like a freight train on a tight schedule, and Ellie hadn’t even had time to think before it was over. She let her head thunk against the back of the couch, guitar sliding off her lap with a lazy thud.

“Rachel.”

“Ellie.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. And even if you did, you’d still be going to dinner with her tomorrow because you both decided to play pretend lovers of the century for the internet three days ago, and now, surprise! You have to commit.”

Ellie groaned dramatically, flicking her lighter open and shut. “Well, at least I’ll get a free meal out of it.”

“You’re paying.”

Ellie sat up so fast she nearly rolled off the couch. “Excuse me?”

Rachel hung up.

Across town, you were lying flat on your bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating whether or not it was worth the effort to grab the water bottle sitting a mere three feet away. You had accepted that dehydration might just be your fate when your phone rang. You blindly reached for it, barely checking the caller ID before answering.

“No.”

“Yes,” Rachel said, unphased. “Dinner. You and Ellie. Tomorrow night. Be charming. Look in love. Don’t do that thing where you act like you physically cannot be perceived while eating in public.”

You blinked. “Why would I do that? Why would I ever do that?”

“You did it last time.”

“That was different. That was 2 AM takeout.”

“Regardless,” Rachel pressed on, clearly unimpressed with your excuses, “wear something nice. Order a fancy wine. And the paparazzi will be there, so make it look good.”

You exhaled sharply, already regretting being alive. “How good are we talking?”

She hummed, like she was debating how much pain to inflict. “Comfortable. Playful. A couple of lingering touches, a cute moment or two. Laugh at her jokes like she’s the funniest person you’ve ever met.”

“She’s not that funny.”

“Then pretend.”

You scoffed, throwing an arm over your eyes. “Anything else, director?”

“Yes. And please, for the love of God, don’t give the paps the middle finger this time.”

You sat up, deeply offended. “That was one time.”

“It was three times.”

“Okay, but in my defense, they deserved it.”

Rachel wasn’t amused. “Tomorrow. Eight. Don’t be late.”

And then she hung up, leaving you staring at your phone, deeply unprepared for the fact that you now had a very official date. With Ellie.

You groaned, flopping back onto your bed with all the enthusiasm of a medieval poet dying from heartbreak.

“Well…” you muttered to yourself. “A date is a date.”

The restaurant was the kind of place where secrets were whispered over candlelight, and fortunes changed hands beneath the weight of silk napkins. Dim lighting pooled in golden circles beneath chandeliers, casting flickering shadows against dark wood paneling. It was designed for intimacy—hushed conversations, stolen glances, the illusion that the outside world didn’t exist.

But tonight, that illusion was paper-thin.

The moment you stepped inside, you felt it. The shift in the air. The subtle tightening of shoulders at nearby tables. A murmur of recognition stirred beneath the soft clinking of glasses, and just past the curve of the bar, someone’s phone tilted, camera lens catching both of your faces.

Ellie noticed it too. Her fingers brushed the small of your back—light, steady, deliberate. Not quite possessive, but close. Just enough to send a message, though whether it was for you or the watchful eyes around you, you weren’t sure.

“Looks like they already caught on,” she muttered, her breath warm against your ear.

You didn’t turn, just reached for the menu as you slid into the booth. “Let them watch.”

Ellie smirked, leaning back into the seat across from you. The leather creaked under her weight. She stretched, lazy and unbothered, but her gaze never left yours.

“So...” she said, voice edged with amusement. “First official date.”

You snorted, flipping the menu open as a distraction. “Yeah. Fake dating my one-night stand. Super fun. SUPER normal.”

Ellie huffed out a quiet laugh. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to lean in to the chaos.”

You glanced up at her, lips twitching. “Yeah, well. Maybe I didn’t think it through.” 

Ellie smirked, setting her glass down. “That makes two of us”

The waiter appeared before you could argue, cutting through the tension like a knife. Orders were placed. The conversation settled into something almost comfortable—almost. Beneath it, a charge still hummed, too close to be ignored.

You hated how good she looked.

The loose black button-up, sleeves rolled to reveal the intricate ink winding around her forearms. The way the candlelight flickered against her silver rings as she toyed with the rim of her whiskey glass. She looked effortless, unfairly so, like she wasn’t aware of the effect she had on people. The effect she had on you.

She caught you staring.

“What?” Ellie’s lips curled slightly, eyes flicking over your face.

You shook your head, feigning indifference. “Nothing.”

Ellie didn’t buy it. She leaned in, elbows resting on the table, voice dropping into something lower, smoother. “You sure about that?”

You exhaled. “Just wondering how long it’ll take before someone posts a blurry picture of us with a dramatic caption.”

Ellie tilted her head, thinking. “Probably already happened.”

She wasn’t wrong. Your phone, face-down on the table, had been buzzing intermittently all night. And yet, for once, you had no urge to check it. No urge to confirm what you already knew—that the world was watching, dissecting every look, every movement, every stray touch.

But for a fleeting second, you let yourself forget.

The laughter and conversation had faded, leaving behind something heavier—something unspoken. Ellie was watching you again, fingers drumming a lazy rhythm against the table.

You exhaled through your nose, swirling the wine in your glass before taking a sip. “You’re staring.”

Ellie didn’t flinch. Didn’t even pretend to look away. If anything, the weight of her gaze intensified, dragging over your face, your lips, the way your fingers curled around the stem of your glass.

“Can’t help it,” she murmured, voice low, rough at the edges. “You’re really selling this whole madly-in-love-with-me thing.”

The words sent a sharp jolt through you—annoyance, something hotter, something dangerous. You set your glass down with a quiet clink, leveling her with a look.

“You’re insufferable.”

Ellie leaned in, elbows resting on the table, her smirk deepening. Her voice dropped just enough to make your pulse stutter.

“And yet,” she drawled, “here you are, madly in love with me.”

It was infuriating—the cocky glint in her eyes, the way she was too close and somehow still not close enough.

You wanted to shove her away. You wanted to yank her closer.

Instead, you inhaled, slow and measured, smoothing the irritation from your face. You reached across the table, your fingers sliding over hers—warm, steady, deliberate. Your touch lingered, just enough to watch her expression shift.

Ellie’s smirk faltered. Just for a second.

Good.

You leaned in, voice sweet, syrupy, laced with something lethal.

“Of course, baby,” you cooed, lacing your fingers through hers. “You’re the love of my life.”

Ellie stilled. Her eyes flickered—just briefly, just enough. Then, just as quickly, she recovered, her thumb grazing over your knuckles.

Her smirk curled back into place, but now? Now, you could tell it wasn’t quite as easy as before.

“Damn right” she murmured.

It was nothing. A move for the cameras. A game you’d both agreed to play.

So why did it feel like something was shifting?

Outside, cameras flashed.

Inside, the world felt smaller, quieter, like the space between you had its own gravity.

Ellie never posted much.

Not about herself. Not about anyone. But tonight? Tonight was different.

The Instagram story went up without warning. No buildup, no context, just a single photo.

You, mid-laugh, wine glass in hand, bathed in candlelight. The kind of effortless, unguarded moment that made it impossible to look away. Shadows curled along your cheekbones, the soft glow making you look almost unreal, like something out of a dream.

No tags. No emojis. No overcomplicated caption. Just four quiet, devastating words:

"yeah, i'm done for."

A confession disguised as nothing. A moment so simple, so fleeting—yet it hit like a seismic shift.

The internet, once again, was in shambles.

The studio smelled like stale coffee and old vinyl, the air thick with the kind of silence that only existed at this hour. It was late—too late. The kind of late that blurred the edges of logic, where exhaustion made everything feel heavier, where thoughts you’d spent all day avoiding started creeping back in.

You hadn’t meant to be here. Hadn’t meant to sit in this chair, pen in hand, staring at the blank page in your notebook like it held the answer to a question you weren’t ready to ask.

But here you were.

Another night. Another week. 

Another failed attempt to convince yourself that this wasn’t a problem.

The guitar rested against your thigh, its weight grounding, familiar, a piece of you as much as the heartbeat in your chest. But every chord you strummed felt wrong. Off. Like the melody was trying to tell you something you weren’t ready to hear.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face before picking up the pen. The words came before you could stop them.

It’s 3 AM and the moon looks different Or maybe it’s just my state of mind Tried to leave you somewhere distant But you keep slipping between the lines

You stared at them, heart pounding harder than it should have been.

I shouldn’t be thinking about you

You hesitated, then scratched it out. The fuck was that?

Outside, the city pulsed—neon signs flickering, distant laughter spilling from bars, car horns and sirens blending into the night like white noise. The world kept moving, unaware. Unbothered.

Unlike you.

Because inside this room, in this quiet that felt too sharp, it was just you and the ghost of someone who wasn’t even here.

She was probably asleep right now, tangled in sheets that smelled like her and not like you. Peaceful, unbothered, unaware of the fact that you were wide awake in a room that suddenly felt too small. That you were trying, and failing, to put whatever the hell you were feeling about her into words.

You exhaled sharply, leaning back in your chair.

This is stupid.

And yet—

Your fingers twitched, your grip tightening around the pen, and before you could stop yourself, you wrote.

You leave fingerprints on my skin Like I was meant to be touched by you Like you knew me in a past life And kept coming back just to haunt me

The words sat there, and suddenly they weren't just lyrics anymore.

It was her.

The way she looked at you—too intense, like she saw through every excuse, every careful lie you told yourself.

The way her voice settled in your bones, low and lazy, curling around the edges of your thoughts when you least expected it.

The way she touched you—casual, careless, like she didn’t even realize she was leaving pieces of herself behind. But at the same time, she was taking parts of you too, until you weren’t sure where she ended and you began.

And you hated it.

Hated that no matter how many songs you wrote or how many sleepless nights you spent thinking about her, she still lingered in every corner of your mind. Hated that no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself this was fake—just a fleeting thought, just a name, just a PR stunt—it never felt fake. And even now, even here, your fingers betrayed you against the chords of your guitar, tracing a slow, aching melody.

Something soft and low.

Something that sounded too much like her.

You let the song take shape, let it spill out in half-finished lyrics and messy scribbles, in chords that felt like confessions you’d never say to her face.

And when the song finally ended, it wasn’t careful.

It wasn't filtered through logic or reason or the rules you were supposed to be following.

It was just the truth.

The sharp vibration of your phone against the wooden table nearly made you jump. The sound cut through the quiet hum of the studio, through the half-finished melody still hanging in the air.

You stared at the screen, pulse quickening before your brain could catch up.

Ellie.

Her name glowed against the dim light, as if you had summoned her with thought. An interruption, a warning—an inevitability.

You hesitated, fingers twitching against the notebook, the unfinished lyrics glaring up at you like they knew something you didn’t. Like they were daring you to answer.

A part of you wanted to ignore it. To pretend you hadn’t seen it.

But your resolve had never been strong when it came to her.

Your thumb hovered before unlocking the screen. The message sat there, simple, unreadable.

Ellie: you up?

You exhaled slowly, rubbing at your tired eyes. Of course, she knew. Knew you couldn’t sleep. Knew exactly how your mind worked, how it never let you rest.

Another vibration.

Ellie: don’t lie

A small, bitter smile tugged at your lips. It wasn’t a question. She already knew the answer.

You tapped the keyboard, typed, erased, typed again.

You: why?

The ellipsis appeared immediately. Then, a pause. A hesitation.

Ellie: idk

Ellie: just thinking

Your stomach twisted. That was the thing about Ellie—she never said too much. Just enough to get inside your head. Just enough to make you wonder.

Ellie: can’t sleep

You should’ve said something simple. Something easy, something that didn’t open doors you weren’t ready to walk through.

But this was Ellie.

And maybe you were tired of pretending.

You: me neither

The words felt like an admission, but it still wasn’t enough. Something about the silence between texts, the space where she was waiting for more, made your fingers tighten around your phone.

The air in the studio felt heavier now, thick with the quiet things you weren’t saying. The song in your notebook was unfinished, just like this—whatever the fuck this was.

You stared at the screen, heart knocking against your ribs.

Fuck it.

Before you could overthink it, before you could talk yourself out of it—

You: come over

A pause. Too long, too quiet. You held your breath.

Then, finally—

Ellie: omw

The knock on the studio door nearly sent you out of your chair.

3:47 a.m.

Another knock—sharper this time, more impatient.

You exhaled, pressing your palms against the desk before pushing yourself up. You rolled the tension from your shoulders, stepping over half-crumpled lyric sheets.

Ellie stood in the doorway, hoodie half-zipped, hands buried in her pockets, wearing that kind of expression that made your stomach clench.

“Wow” she drawled, leaning against the doorframe like she had all the time in the world. “You look like shit.”

You exhaled sharply, already regretting responding to that fucking text. “Nice to see you too, Ellie.”

“Always a pleasure, sweetheart” she shot back, smirk widening. “You gonna let me in, or should I start serenading you from the hallway? ‘Cause I will. And it’ll be bad.”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped aside. “It already is.”

Ellie snorted as she walked in, the scent of her—faint cologne, cigarettes, something familiar—stirring something restless in your chest. She wandered over to your desk, eyes sweeping over the chaos of half-filled notebooks, your laptop, empty coffee cups, and a sad little pile of crumpled snack wrappers.

“Jesus” she muttered, toeing at a discarded water bottle. “You been here all night?”

You ran a hand over your face. “Yeah. Some of us actually have to work.”

Ellie scoffed, dropping into the chair across from you, arms slung over the backrest. “Some of us are also working. I’ve got an album to finish, remember?”

You huffed out a tired laugh, rubbing your eyes. “Oh, so you came here to, what, steal my ideas?”

Ellie smirked. “Maybe.”

“Now” she continued, tapping her fingers against the edge of your notebook, “do me a favor and tell me if this song sucks before I embarrass myself.”

You blinked. “Wait—you’re actually asking for my opinion?”

Ellie placed a dramatic hand over her heart. “I know. Huge deal.”

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

Ellie grinned, pulling out her phone, scrolling through her files. A moment later, a raw, unfinished melody drifted through the studio speakers—soft guitar, steady beat, her voice coming in a little rough but unmistakably hers.

You leaned back, listening. It wasn’t what you expected. It was slower, almost hesitant, the kind of song that didn’t just sit in your chest—it settled there, heavy, like it wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

When it faded out, Ellie glanced at you, fingers drumming idly against the desk. “Well?”

You exhaled, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s… different.”

Ellie huffed a laugh. “Wow. Incredible feedback. Thank you so much.”

You shot her a look. “No, I mean—it’s great. But it’s you in a way your other stuff isn’t. Feels more…” You searched for the word, something that wouldn’t make this moment feel like a confession.

“Personal?” Ellie offered, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded. “Yeah. Personal. Like you actually mean it.”

Ellie clicked her tongue, leaning back in the chair, stretching her arms above her head. “Great. Can’t wait for the internet to rip me apart for being emotional.”

You snorted. “Oh, please. Sad Ellie is about to be everyone’s favorite genre.”

Ellie groaned, tilting her head back. “God. Kill me now.”

You grinned. “Nah, you gotta live long enough to suffer through your own album rollout.”

Ellie shook her head, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Then, her gaze flicked back to you. Sharper now. Intentional.

“So” she said, nodding towards your notebook. “What about you?”

Your pulse kicked up. “What about me?”

Ellie tapped a finger against your laptop. “You working on anything good, or just staring at the screen and contemplating your entire existence?”

You hesitated.

The ghost of the melody still lingered on your fingertips, the kind of song that would give too much away. You could still feel it under your skin—like the ink hadn’t dried yet.

Ellie was still watching you. Waiting.

You exhaled, pressing your palm against the notebook, shutting it.

“Nothing finished.”

She narrowed her eyes, studying you. “That was a suspiciously vague answer.”

“And yet, I’m not elaborating.”

Ellie's eyes flicked to the notebook under your hand. “Must be something good if you’re guarding it like the nuclear codes.”

You exhaled, pressing your palm a little firmer over the cover. “It’s just not finished.”

Her gaze lingered for a beat, unreadable, before she leaned back.

"Fine. Keep your secrets." But her smirk remained, teasing, knowing. “I’ll just wait for the album, then.”

The silence stretched, thick and charged, pressing against the walls of the dimly lit studio. The only sounds were the distant hum of the city outside and the slow, steady breaths neither of you seemed willing to break.

Then Ellie moved.

She stood with a lazy stretch, her hoodie riding up just enough to expose a sliver of skin. It was an afterthought, a fleeting moment—except that it wasn’t. Not to you.

You noticed everything. The shift of her muscles. The way her fingers flexed at her sides, like she was resisting the urge to touch. The flicker of something unreadable in her eyes when she caught you staring.

"Y’know" she murmured, voice dipping low, rich with something that sent a slow, simmering heat curling in your stomach. "This studio’s got some nice acoustics."

Your heart stuttered. "What do you mean?"

Ellie’s smirk spread wider, slow and confident—full of something dangerously playful. “What do I mean?” she repeated, stepping closer. "I mean… it’d be a damn shame not to test ‘em out."

Your breath caught before you could stop it.

“Ellie...” you warned, the sound barely a whisper.

Her gaze flickered, something sharp and amused dancing behind her eyes. “That’s my name” she said, her voice turning husky, deliberately dragging out the words as she tilted her head, clearly savoring the tension she was building.

“Try not to wear it out, yeah?”

You gripped the edge of the desk harder, trying to steady your shaking hands as she closed the distance between you. Like she had all the time in the world. Like she hadn’t just walked in here and rewritten the air.

Then her hands were on you. Her fingertips barely grazed the edge of your shirt, a feather-light touch that was more maddening than anything. Just enough to make your breath hitch. Ellie caught it, of course, the satisfaction lighting up her features.

“You gonna let me play, superstar?” she murmured, voice thickening, growing darker, heavier with something far more dangerous. Her eyes danced across your face, settling on your lips, tracing the way your breath had turned sharp, uneven.

You swallowed, every part of you on fire. "That depends."

Her brows lifted slightly. "On?"

You exhaled, heart hammering, every nerve in your body locked onto the press of her fingers against your skin.

"Whether you’re any good at it."

Ellie’s smirk shifted, something wicked flashing behind her eyes as her hands slid lower, gripping your waist and pulling you against her. The heat between you became unbearable, the space between you vanishing entirely.

“Oh, babe,” she whispered, her lips brushing against yours as she lowered her head, the words dripping with heat and promise.

“You already know the answer to that.”

And before you could fire back, she kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn't careful. It was a collision—desperate, reckless, the kind of kiss that burned straight through you. Her hands tightened at your waist, pulling you flush against her as she deepened it, tilting her head just enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

A low sound rumbled from her chest, vibrating against your skin as she pressed in closer, like she wanted to drown in you.

"Ellie—"

"Shh," she breathed, lips ghosting over yours. "Just let me."

The desk dug into your back, but you barely noticed, too caught up in the way Ellie’s fingers curled under your shirt, skimming higher, dragging heat in their wake. You gasped into her mouth, and she took the opportunity to bite your lower lip, a smug little hum vibrating against your skin when your knees nearly buckled.

"Fuck," You murmured, fingers tangling in the front of her hoodie, trying to pull her even closer, even though there was barely any space left between you.

It wasn’t a protest. Not really. She heard it for what it was. A warning. A plea. 

Ellie grinned against your mouth, infuriatingly cocky. "Told you." 

Your response was a hand fisting in her hoodie, yanking her back in. The studio air grew heavier, filled with the soft, urgent press of lips, the wet sound of mouths parting and meeting again.

The heat between you thickened, each kiss deeper, hungrier, as if neither of you could get close enough. Ellie’s hands mapped out familiar territory, fingers slipping beneath your shirt, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine. 

She pushed your back against the desk, her body hovering over yours as a half-empty cup of coffee tipped over, spilling across the surface—but neither of you cared. Ellie’s lips trailed down your jaw, then to your neck, her mouth hot against your skin as she found that sweet spot just beneath your ear. A shiver ran down your spine, your hands fisting her hair, pulling her closer as a gasp slipped from your lips.

Just as you fully sank into the desk, your hand fumbled, accidentally pressing a button.

A red recording light pulsed steadily.

Your stomach dropped. The realization hit like a shock to the system, but before you could react—before you could even think to stop it from recording the audio—she leaned in, voice dark with amusement.

“Oh” she murmured, eyes flicking to the glowing light. “Now that’s interesting.”

She didn’t stop. If anything, the revelation only seemed to fuel her, slow and deliberate in the way she moved. Her fingers traced the edge of the desk, knuckles grazing your skin.

“You know,” she continued, her voice almost thoughtful, almost teasing “most people would just turn it off.” A pause. A smirk. “But you’re not moving.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, each passing second like an eternity. You should’ve said something, anything—but her eyes were already locked on yours, reading you like an open book, watching every shaky breath, every tremor in your body.

“Interesting” she said again, softer this time.

She figured you out. The thought of this moment being recorded turned you on.

She leaned in, mouth just barely brushing your ear.

“Let’s give it something to remember.”

Her fingers skimmed up your thighs, grazing the hem of your waistband, teasing, before slipping beneath to touch your cunt through the damp fabric of your panties. The touch was barely a whisper, just enough to send a jolt of anticipation straight to your core, every nerve in your body lighting up in response.

“Fuck,” she murmured, voice rough against your ear. “Already so wet f’me”

The studio felt impossibly hot. The low hum of the equipment, the distant flicker of the red recording light—it all blurred around you as Ellie’s fingers pushed your panties to the side and brushed against your soaked cunt, teasing. 

You shivered, biting down on your lip as her fingers stroked slow, lazy circles on your clit. You let out a breathy moan, the sound almost embarrassingly loud in the empty room.

She exhaled a soft chuckle, the sound amused, low. “So sensitive…”

Her fingers traced lazy shapes, barely there—enough to make you tremble, but not enough to satisfy. Your head tipped forward, your forehead pressing against her shoulder as you fought to steady your breathing, determined not to let her see you unravel so easily.

Instead, you pressed your lips to the delicate curve of her neck, nipping gently at the skin. The action pulled a breathy, low moan from her throat, followed by a soft hitch in her breath, a dark mark forming where your lips had just been. The sound of her pulse quickening beneath your mouth sent a thrill through you, making it harder to hold back as the tension between you both grew.

Her free hand gripped your thigh, keeping you pinned. Then, with a slow shift of her weight, she adjusted just enough to quicken the pace of her movements, to send jolts of pleasure racing up your spine. Each thrust had you arching, desperate for more as white-hot waves of pleasure surged through you.

A loud moan ripped from your throat.

“That’s it,” she praised, lips skimming your neck, her voice nothing but smoke and heat. “Don’t hold back.”

Your body tightened as she kept up that slow, torturous rhythm. Each stroke was precise—she knew exactly how to break you, exactly how to keep you teetering right on the edge, without letting you tip over.

The tension in your body coiled tighter, hotter, ready to snap—

And then she stopped.

You gasped, hips jerking back involuntarily, chasing the pressure that was suddenly gone. A desperate noise clawed its way up your throat, frustration burning through you like wildfire.

She laughed, low and smug, her breath ghosting over your skin. “Patience, baby.”

Fingers tangled in your shirt, swallowing your sharp inhale with a kiss that left no room for hesitation. It was frantic, untamed—teeth scraping, tongues tangling, breaths ragged as she pressed herself flush against your legs, completely between them.

Hands gripped your thighs, rough fingertips tracing slow patterns against your heated skin, dragging the anticipation out until you were squirming beneath her, hips canting forward, seeking friction.

Her smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and dominance as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear.

"You’ll have to beg for it, pretty," she purred, her voice low and rough, each word a silk-wrapped snare. "Tell me just how badly you want it."

And you were already too lost to even think of denying her.

"Please, Ellie" The words tumbled out, a raw, desperate plea. "I need you... so fucking much..." The vulnerability stung, but it felt right, like a surrender you couldn’t fight, even if you wanted to.

Her lips grazed your jaw, teasing with a scrape of teeth. "Fuck..." she hummed, savoring the way you shivered.

"It's impossible to say no to you," she breathed, her mouth trailing down your throat. "Why would I even try?"

Her hand moved, slipping beneath fabric, slow and unrelenting, fingers pressing into your clit in one smooth, devastating motion again. Your head fell back, a broken moan breaking free, and that was all the encouragement she needed.

The red light kept blinking.

The track kept recording.

And neither of you gave a fuck.

Two fingers eased their way inside, stretching you open, curling just right. It dragged a choked gasp from your throat, the pleasure overwhelming as she finally gave you what you wanted.

A quiet hum of amusement left her lips. “That’s it, baby,” she murmured, her voice all smoke and satisfaction. “Let me hear you.”

Like you had a choice.

Your breath hitched, another moan slipping free as she picked up the pace, slow and devastating. The studio air felt stifling, thick with heat, with want, with the unbearable tension that had been simmering between you for weeks.

And now it was spilling over, consuming both of you whole.

Her free hand slid up your side, tugging your shirt upwards, fingertips ghosting over your ribs and stomach until they found your breast. Her fingers squeezed, kneading, rolling your sensitive bud with so much lust it made your breath hitch.

Ellie’s hands pressed your breast up, and you gasped from the intensity of her grip.

“Easy, Ellie... please,” you breathed, eyes shutting.

“Stop whining” Ellie muttered, slapping your breast.

The unexpected sting sent a rush of heat through you, making your hips instinctively rock against her fingers. Ellie was in cloud nine, watching the way you unraveled, addicted to the way you loved being under her mercy.

Ellie’s eyes darkened, her hand gripping your breast harder and pinching your nipple in a way that made you whine. She leaned in, her breath hot against your ear.

“You want more?” she purred. “I can give you fucking more.”

Her fingers went even faster and deeper inside you, wet lewd sounds filling the room. You felt a fresh wave of heat through you, your stomach tightening, thighs clenching around her. You could barely think, barely breathe, barely function with the way she was ravishing you.

The sound of your own incoherent babbling—wrecked, desperate, breaking on every inhale—echoed through the studio monitors, looping back at you in real time. It was sinful. A record of your undoing, caught on tape, permanent.

And you both loved it.

“Bet you’ll listen to this after we are finished.” she teased, lips brushing the shell of your ear, her voice pure arrogance.

You wanted to tell her to shut up.

Wanted to wipe that cocky expression off her face.

But you couldn’t.

Not when she was this deep inside you, not when your entire body was trembling, not when she was driving you closer and closer to the edge with every relentless movement.

"Ellie! Fuck! Ah! I'm—I'm gonna!—"

Her grip on your thigh tightened, keeping you steady, keeping you exactly where she wanted you. “C’mon, babe” she coaxed, her voice dipping lower, rougher, sending a fresh wave of heat straight to your core. “Let go for me.”

You had no choice.

With a sharp inhale, your body seized, pleasure crashing over you in a dizzying, uncontrollable wave. Your fingers clenched in her hoodie, pulling her closer as the world around you blurred, fractured.

She didn’t stop.

Not until she had wrung everything out of you, not until your legs shook, not until your nails dug half-moons into her shoulders, not until your breath came in sharp, ragged gasps.

Only then did she slow.

Only then did she press a lingering kiss to your jaw, her touch finally easing, the weight of her body grounding you as you came back to yourself.

The dim glow of the studio monitors casted long shadows over your hands as you hovered over the trackpad, hesitating. The screen in front of you flickering with waveforms—familiar ones, yet impossibly intimate.

The remnants of last night. Of her.

Your body still remembered. The way she pressed against you, the roughness of her hands on your skin, the way she took and took without hesitation. Your thighs still trembled if you thought about it too long. A dull ache pulsed deep in your muscles, in the places her fingers had left their mark, in the places where heat still lingered, ghostlike.

And then there was this.

A single, unnamed audio file.

Your cursor hovered over it, pulse thrumming, heat creeping up your neck. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.

But you clicked play anyway.

The second the sound filled your headphones, your stomach clenched. 

Fuck.

It was devastating.

The track captured everything—the sharp intake of breath when her hands disappeared just to return, the way your voice wavered between restraint and surrender, the quiet, broken whimpers that she’d dragged from you, each one edged with desperation. And beneath it all, her.

Her voice—low, teasing, soaked in dark amusement.

A shiver ran down your spine.

You swallowed, but your mouth was dry, your fingers hovering over the delete button.

You should delete it.

You should.

But a wicked idea curled in the back of your mind, taking shape, sinking its claws in.

One particular song of yours was already finished—a sensual, slow-burn of a track, thick with sultry melodies and lyrics soaked in want. It was about sex, no subtlety, no metaphors to hide behind. This was the kind of song that slipped under skin, the kind that made people blush when they heard just how explicit it really was.

And now?

Now, it was going to be about her.

You dragged the unnamed file to the song, heart hammering as you isolated the breathiest, most wrecked parts—the ones that made your thighs press together, the ones that would make her smirk so damn cocky when she realized what you’d done.

You worked methodically, layering them just beneath the chorus, weaving them in so delicately they almost melted into the beat. Almost.

And then, the final touch.

You scrolled through the file, fingers trembling just slightly as you plucked the words you knew would drive anyone crazy.

A soft, broken whisper—"Fuck..."

A cocky drawl—“That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.” 

The one that made something deep inside you clench—"Tell me just how badly you want it."

And then, the final touch, almost at the end of the song. A phrase that made it unmistakably clear where all those sounds had come from. Low and rough, a whisper edged with recognition so distinct that anyone who had heard it once would know—those were your moans, and this was Ellie fucking Wiliams voice.

“Bet you’ll listen to this after we are finished.”

You pressed play, listening to it slip seamlessly into the bridge, into the build-up, the anticipation tightening, tightening, until goosebumps prickled along your skin.

A slow, wicked smile curled at your lips as you saved the file.

Two months.

That was all the time you had until the album dropped.

Let’s see if she notices.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟 →

taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @tittielover-420 @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo @elliesbabygirl @xx2849 @kiiramiz @mikellie @brooks-lin @kaykeryyy @lovely-wisteria @marscardigan @elliesanqel @lovelaymedown @gold-dustwomxn @ilovewomenfr @seraphicsentences @mascspleasegetmepregnant @raindroprose23 @creepyswag  @jujueilish @elliesgffrfr @kirammanss @liztreez @catrapplesauces @livvietalks @furtherrawayy @thatchosen1 @kanadadryer @littlerosiesthings @eriiwaii @firefly-ace @redlightellie @elliepoems @sabrinathewitchh982

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ IVE ALWAYS WANTED TO WRITE THAT MOANING IN THE BACKTRACK OF A SONG PARTTT OMG . OMFG. its not my fav chapter, but here it its ig, and its so long im sorry lmaooo. I did like 30 proofreads, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)

[renard-dartigue]

Hi now i'm curious what is the beef with the rappers

Man this is going to be long so I'll try to keep this simple and entertaining. I hope this comes across as clear cause I'm shook right now.

Here is a glossarie to break thing up:

Prologue (The Spark 🔥)

Round 1.1 (Physical Education 💪🏾)

Interlude part 1 (Roots 🏠)

Round 1.2 (2 Warning Shots 🔫)

Interlude part 2 (Pusha the Seer 👁)

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out 🔪 )

Round 2.2 (The Nuke 💥)

Epilogue (All eyes on him 👀)

My Theory 🤷🏾‍♂️

Highly recommend checking out the tracks yourself while you read along.

Prologue (The Spark)

Let it be known that I am a neutral party and that I don't take sides when it comes to rap beef. I was here for the music and creativity. I am just trying to recount events to the best of my knowledge. Sorry if some details are inaccurate.

Okay so basically, Drake, J Cole, and Kendrick Lamar are the Big 3 of the rap world right now.

A month ago, Future and Metro Boomin (two rapper who supposedly don't fuck with Drake anymore) released a song with Kendrick Lamar called "Like That". In the song Kendrick took a shot at Drake and J Cole, saying there isn't a big 3, its only him on top.

4 weeks ago J Cole dropped a track called "7 Minute Drill" that is dissing Kendrick. However, in a move that is very uncharacteristic of J, he took down the official track and formally apologized to Kendrick. Thus signaling his exit from the rap battle.

ROUND 1.1 (Physical Ed)

Drake on the other hand dropped "Push Ups" 2 weeks ago, a diss track that went after other rappers he doesn't like but mainly Kendrick. In it, he made fun of Kendrick's height and his contracts. He then ends the song with "I was really try'n keep it PG" meaning he has a nuke on Kendrick that people don't know.

Not long later, Drake dropped ANOTHER diss track "Taylor Made Freestyle" with Ai voices of Snoop Dog and fucking 2PAC! Kendrick has stated before that 2pac is one of his idols so this must have been a deep cut. In the song Drake claims Kendrick doesn't write his own music and uses the writers of Taylor Swift. Relating a rapper to pop music is seen as disrespectful.

INTERLUDE PART 1 (Roots)

Before I continue, I want to give a brief run down on how the public perceives these two rappers.

Drake portrays himself as a superstar, he's always on social media flaunting his success and partying with other celebrities, seeing alot of women and living a lavish lifestyle. His music is catchy, something you put on in the club. Most of his fan base praise him for his sick beats and witty lyrics. He's been in the music industry for a while and is no push over.

Kendrick Lamar is a very private person, doesn't expose anything about his personal life unless its on a track. He almost never gets into fights with anyone. He is a family man, stressing the importance of being there for his wife and son and encourages other fathers to do the same. His fan base praise him for his creative lyrics and highlighting the black American condition.

ROUND 1.2 (2 Warning Shots)

2 Day ago, Kendrick Lamar came back with his first official diss track on Drake called "Euphoria". In this song, Kendrick goes in on Drakes fake personality. Drake has always been known around the community as a bit of a poser, he grew up in Canada and was raised by his white mother, a relatively comfortable childhood. He was a star on the popular show Degassi when he was young. garnering him a fan base early in his career. Kendrick doesn't approve of Drake appropriating black American culture and acting like he some tough guy. When in reality he is a Canadian nerd thats disrespectful to 2pac. All throughout the song, Kendrick hits at things that many people have know about Drake, such as his behavior around underage girls. He also called Drake a deadbeat father who isn't in his son's life, even referencing his lost battle to Pusha T. Then Kendrick finally warns him that he has more dirt that he is willing to share if Drake takes things further.

Similar to Drake, Kendrick dropped another track called "6:16 in LA" later that day. This song focuses on Drake's environment, specifically the people he hangs with. Kendrick implies that Drake paid people to dig into his background and when they didn't find anything, Drake made up stuff instead. Kendrick then says that someone in Drakes group is leaking information to him about something even more serious. Also planting a seed in Drake's mind that his supposed friends don't actually like him, just like the clout from hanging around him.

INTERLUDE PART 2 (Pusha the Seer)

Taking a quick break again, we need to discuss something that occurred long before Drake's battle with Kendrick.

5 years ago, Drake was in a rap battle with rapper Pusha T, someone who was smaller than Drake at the time in terms of popularity. Pusha dropped a song called "The Story of Adidon" where he dropped a bomb that Drake had a kid and wasn't taking care of him. Drake initially denied it but it was later revealed to be true.

Since then Drake has never responded to Pusha T's diss track, making Pusha the current winner. And Kendrick is bringing it back into the light.

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out)

Around 2 am EST time of May 4th, Drake drops his diss track, "Family Matters" one of his strongest songs, switching his flow 3 times in the span of 7 minutes. In true Drake fashion, its a club song with a catchy beat. Like his previous diss, its aimed at multiple people but the main focus is on Kendrick, even bring up "I was really try'n keep this PG".

Drake doubles down on his black identity and mocks the fact that Kendrick and other rappers are saying he isn't black, (incorrectly assuming that they are coming at him for being mixed when the real issue is that he is appropriating black American rap culture as a Canadian mixed man who grew up in a safe environment) Drake not only calls Kendrick a fraud who only raps about black issues for attention, Or that his activism is performative. He makes a shocking claims that Kendrick is a wife beater. Then Drake says that Kendrick's son doesn't belong to him and implies Kendrick's producer was the real father.

The track caused an uproar. But only for the span of 15 minutes. Because Kendrick did the unthinkable.

ROUND 2.2 (THE NUKE)

Almost as if expecting Drake's move, Kendrick Lamar did what no one saw coming. He dropped his diss track "Meet The Grahams" about 15 minutes after Drake released "Family Matters".

This time around, in a fashion almost unheard of from him, Kendrick strips all the usual metaphors from his lyricism and structures his track like he is speaking to Drake and his family, 4 parts per individual.

Kendrick begins by speaking to Drakes Son, Adonis, the same son Pusha T exposed Drake for neglecting 5 years ago. He's apologizing to him for his father's behavior. Kendrick speaks to him softly but sternly like a mentor, telling him not to be like his father. Kendrick tells Adonis all the things Drake did and warns him not to do them too: involved with escorts, plastic surgery to appear more black, surgery to look more muscular, hiding a kid. (Kendrick stresses that Adonis is black regardless of being mixed, further highlighting that he isn't discrediting Drake's blackness because he's mixed but because he isn't being himself.) Finishing of by telling the kid to be proud of who he is.

The second half is Kendrick addressing Drake's mother and father, Sandra and Denise. Kendrick speaks to her like he's revealing tragic news, explaining to her that her son is involved in disgusting things. He goes down a list of things, his tone growing more intense and angry. Kendrick then claimed that Drake is employing and enabling pedos in his group, and hopes they die. Even implying that his group is going to be raided by the feds some day.

The third half is the MOST shocking of all. Kendrick begins talking to an unnamed individual, simply calls her babygirl. Similar to Adonis, Kendrick takes on a somber tone and apologizes to her for Drakes behavior. He says its not her fault Drake abandoned her, says that she is deserving of love. He warns her not to become a target for people like Drake to pray on and says she has so much to offer the world.

Kendrick revealed Drake has ANOTHER kid and isn't in their life! (Allegedly)

To close of, the fourth half is Kendrick speaking directly to Drake, his tone tired. He tries to reiterate that he doesn't have hate for him. However, Kendrick says Drake was the first one to go after his family and he couldn't let it slide. He once again calls for Drake to take the mask off. Then says this isn't a rap battle anymore, tells Drake he is fighting himself.

Epilogue (All eyes on him)

And so here we are, waiting for what will happen next.

Drake posted an Instagram story denying the claim he has another kid. But given what happened with Pusha T, we can't quite take his word for it yet. We should wait a bit to see if anything comes out.

Kendrick hasn't put out a statement on Drake's claims about him but given the recurring theme of Drake being a manipulative lier, Kendrick clearly denies it. Given how private he is, its difficult to prove or disprove it. Much like Drake's claims, we will have to wait and see if any evidence comes out about it.

Drake and Kendrick stans are at eachothers throats right now, arguing over who one and whats real or fake.

Right now everyone is looking to see if Drake is going to continue the battle or stay silent like he did with Pusha.

My Theory

Personally as an outside observer who only followed the beef for good music. I think this goes beyond a simple rap battle.

Here is my theory: Someone from Drake's clique told Kendrick that Drake and his producers were writing something about him. Real or fake, Kendrick was pissed. And so he drafted 3 tracks, dumping everything he hates about Drake into them. And then, with the leaker's help, Kendrick baited Drake into a battle, goading Drake to drop the "Family Matters" track so he can shut the battle down with "Meet the Grahams". Or maybe his first 2 tracks were a warning to Drake that if he released a track with lies on him he would reveal he has another kid.

I do think Kendrick initially had good intentions in trying to help Drake be a better person. But maybe the more he learned about Drake the less sympathetic he felt.

But I don't know thats just how I see it.

Thanks for reading my essay. I hope it made sense heh. I encourage healthy discussions in the comments and reblogs please. But everyone agrees that Drake is inappropriate with young girls. We won't argue over that.

[kunareads]

bed chem!

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

maybe it's all in your heads, but you and satoru swear you'd have really good bed chem

full masterlist

the only thing i see in my mind when this song comes on is satoru and it's getting serious

content: celeb romance, tension, fluff, smut (in part 2 and 3), mutual pining, some smau, each chapter will have its own content stuff

18+ please <3

chapters

1 - who's the cute guy with the wide, blue eyes?

2 - how you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things

2.5 - bed chem interlude

3 - and i bet it's even better than in my head

shorts

gq couple's interview

[rhaenyraeri]

Co-Star Tensions (Part 2) - Jack O’Connell

minors dni, 18+!

Part 1, Part 2, Interlude, Part 3

Pairing: Jack O’Connell x fem!Reader, (technically a little Remmick x fem!Reader too)

Summary: A week has past since that night, but unfortunately nothing said has came true. You got in your head about it, and the awkward tension has now turned into relatively no interactions. Now. a tense scene including Remmick and your character is to be filmed for the movie’s extended cut.

Warnings: rpf fic, oral (fem!receiving), biting, fingering, (blood kink?), its filth again lol

Word Count: 3k+

Reshoots have been eventful, especially since that night. Stolen glances and obviously different tension were prominent on set, especially now that some previously drafted scenes were brought to light. Ryan decided, for an extended cut, to bring back some scenes he left out for plot reasons, but wanted to add as a special little treat for the fans. Some, most even, were of flashbacks with Stack and Mary, a few scenes of their relationship including some more risqué moments. A couple included flashbacks with Smoke and Annie, and the short time they had with their baby girl. And, of course, the star antagonist, Remmick, with his lover, your character.

Since that night on the small set in the cabin, you and Jack haven’t really spoke. There’s not been many scenes that needed you both together, and unfortunately, it felt like that made things worse. You were given a script filled with the individual short additions, but past the reshoot of the Joan and Bert changing scene, you didn’t give it much thought. Apparently, neither did Jack, as when you walked onto set that morning and were told by Ryan about what the two of you were filming that day, both of you stopped dead in your tracks. You looked at each other, and you felt your heart flutter. Today, you were to film a scene where your character disagreed with a feeding Remmick committed, calling it too dangerous and she needed him to think some actions through a little better. To that, Remmick hated it. During their argument, things get heated as he needed to take his anger out on her sexually, and that’s exactly what she wanted, too. After going over the few lines of dialogue enough times to get it tweaked perfect for the day, you both headed to your individual campers to get your costumes on for the day.

You arrived to the set first, which was made during the first round of filming, but was set aside, now obviously for the tense scene you were about to film. After a few minutes speaking with your co-star and close friends Wunmi and Hailee, Jack arrived to the set, and of course, he was covered in the damn fake blood again. Something about that man in that way drove you insane. The two women looked at you and smirked, snickering as they walked away and whispering amongst themselves, surely about you and the way your demeanor changed instantly. Ryan called for the two of you to come over and run through the script quickly, and once he was satisfied with the tweaks, filming began.

You sat on the chair of the rundown cabin, the curtains rotted and discolored due to the abandoned effect it required. You took some deep breaths, preparing yourself for the first time you’ve actually been around Jack for a prolonged time since the incident.

“3.. 2.. 1.. action!”

Your character sat in the chair, fingers twiddling together as she waited impatiently for the return of Remmick, daylight beginning to peak slightly through the fortified window. The door busts open, and there he is, soaked with blood and skin smoking.

“Where the hell have you been, Remmick? It’s fucking daylight, you could’ve died!”

“I had a good feeding, darlin’. You would’ve known had you loosened up a bit and came with.”

You narrowed your gaze, sighing deeply and rolling your eyes. He walked to the kitchen counter, putting his hands on it and looked down.

“What, now you’re mad at me ‘cause I didn’t wanna go out that close to sunrise to take out a full group? Sorry, but I’d rather not burn to death!”

He slammed a hand on the counter, shaking his head, but still not raising it to look at you.

“Nah, nah, I’m not mad at you. I’m disappointed! We do this together, we’re in it together, and you just wanted us to sit and starve til dusk! This life is hell, and living it like it’s a normal one only makes it worse.”

“So, this cursed life is worse with me in it? You’d rather me just go, then? You forget you changed me, Rem. Not the other way around. You damned me to this, I get to live it how I want.”

Your eyes started filling with tears, a small talent you’d acquired a few months ago during the first round of filming. He finally looked up, the first time you got to see his face this morning. The costume today had the special effects for Remmick’s vampire teeth being out. The second you laid eyes on him, knowing what was to come in this scene, you knew you wouldn’t be acting anymore. Especially not with what the script called for next. His eyes darkened at you, and you could sense his energy changed too. He wanted your body on his, and it frustrated him that since that night, you hadn’t so much as even spoke to him. But here you were, fate making it clear, that the tension hadn’t just remained, it grew stronger. More full of yearning, more intense, more.. desperate, as he called it that night.

“Now, you know that’s not what I meant. Hell, if anything want you around more than what I get. I.. I need you more than what we have, darlin’. And for you to say you want to leave me.. now I just can’t be havin’ that,” he starts stalking towards you, the boots stomping intimidatingly on the wood. He was close, dangerously close to you. “Your fate is intertwined with mine now, and there’s no escapin’ it. If you leave I will not rest until you are back to me.”

“So you’re just gonna find a way for me to stay here? Stay with you and run the risk of living without you? I’d rather be away from you while you’re on this earth than while you’re rotting in whatever hell we’re damned to!”

He snarled, showing the frustration Remmick had towards your character, as she refused to see that he wanted what he thought was best for them, and she seemed ungrateful. You backed up into a wall, as Jack stomped closer to you, it’s almost as if he himself was frustrated with you, the real you. The tension in this scene goes deeper than just the characters now. It’s between you and him.

In a quick second, his hand with vampiric claws reach up to grab you by your neck, “Do you not realize what I do for you? I had came to terms that our fate isn’t gonna end happy like we hope for, but I want to make the best of it. For you! For us! I love you, and here you are bein’ cruel about it. Don’t you dare leave me.”

“I.. I didn’t.. I just wanted.. to be safe..” your spoke through exaggerated breaths, keeping up the act of being choked, even then Jack’s hand was just barely around your throat.

“I can protect you, darlin’. Always have, always will. You best come to your senses.. or do I need to fuck them into you?”

That wasn’t in the script. Your eyes widened, breathing rapidly speeding up. Ryan didn’t call cut. He thought this was improvising, it technically is. But you know it’s real. It’s not just Remmick. Your next line would only fuel the fire between the two of you.

“I’m sorry.. I need to understand you better.. I need you to show me just how sensible I can be.”

Jack shook his head, a real groan of frustration leaving him as he turns away from the shot, not acting anymore. Now, Ryan yells cut.

“Jack, you okay? Let’s take a 15, everyone.”

The lights flickered back on as his steps start rapidly making their way off the set. Concern fills you, he’d been off all morning, was he actually just frustrated? Upset at you? Michael called after him, but decided it was best to just let him take a second. You turned to look at him, and asked if he knew what was up.

“Nope. I’ve got no clue. He’s not been himself today. I figured you knew why.”

He looked at you, he figured you two had a blossoming romance starting up, but he took your confusion as a ‘no, it’s not that.’ Everyone took to different areas of the set, grabbing some waters and resting for a bit. There was no point in just standing here aimlessly when you knew you had to be the reason he was upset. Walking to the hallway he had stormed off into, you looked into every room with doors open, and knocked on the ones without. Eventually you came to the prop closet, and you knocked on it.

“Jack, are you in here? Is everything okay?”

The door swung open at your voice, and he grabbed your hand to pull you in. He slammed the door behind you and locked it. He was breathing heavy, almost distraught at what was happening. You looked to meet his eyes, and they were dark. Filled with lust, desire, longing.

“I’ve spent all week hoping you’d speak to me, and not once have you. All but looks. That’s not enough, love. I need you. I miss you. You.. are all I want. And to be thrown aside?” he looks away, shaking his head, “That’s hurt me, love. So yeah, yeah I’m mad at you.”

“I didn’t wanna make more awkward than it needed to be. I didn’t think you’d wanna speak to me after that. Kinda figured it’d be a one time thing,” you spoke.

“I told you I wanted to spend some time with you after that, how much clearer could I have been? We agreed to hang out, I mean.. How else am I meant to feel when you just give me glances? I wanted more than just a little fuck, love.”

So that was it. You didn’t think he was honest when he asked to hang out after that. It was a tension driven, lust filled sexual activity purely driven by fantasy. Or, at least you told yourself that. Later that night, you’d reflected on it all and got into your head over it, convincing yourself that nothing would come from it, and that all said after was just an adrenaline infused conversation. Before that, there was no real romantic communication between the two of you. Some flirting and glances, and the obvious tension.

“I just thought you were fucking with me. Just convinced myself that you were.”

“I would never do that. I’ve thought about taking youout for a nice date, just the two of us spending time with each other. Not just desperate tension on the set for hours each day. Got me frustrated over it all, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

You sighed, looking to your right and thinking of what to say next. It was just.. what do you say? I’m sorry I did sexual acts with you then fucked off like a lousy shithead and ignored you the past week?

You tried to get some words out, but they just weren’t.

“Fuck this,” he growled out. He took your face between his hands and kissed you hard. The shock delayed your reaction, but you came to your senses quick, and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back. It was sloppy, passionate, desperate. He slid his right hand down your body and placed it on your hip, turning you around and pushing you against the wall. Your hands traced into his hair, gripping it and pushing his face somehow even closer to yours. The hand on your waist came up to grab your left hand, the one on your cheek grabbed your right, moving to hold them above your head. His moved to hold both of them with one of his own, sliding the other right down your body, and under your costume dress.

“Fuck, I need to touch you. Been missin’ the taste of you ever since,” he said as his hand slid into your underwear, relishing in the moan you uttered, before gathering some of your slick onto his fingers and bringing them up. He put his fingers into his mouth, tasting the wetness you had for him. Humming in content, his eyes fluttered shut and back open, embracing the wonder he just tasted. He put his lips against yours again, tongue slipping into your mouth. Between him, the taste of yourself mixing with his spit and the same damn thing that drove you insane last time, the taste of the fake blood mixing into it, you could’ve came by that alone. The sensualness of the scandalous act the two of you were committing for the second time in a week just made the situation much hotter.

“Ah fuck this,” he moaned as he pulled away, hand letting go of your wrists as he fell to his knees. He lifted your dress up and pulled your underwear down. Taking a finger, he slid it inside you, a moan rumbling out of you as he moved it in and out. The sensation was insane, the speed was just right. He kissed your left thigh just above your knee, making his way closer to your pussy. Your breathing became labored, you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter. He placed an open mouth kiss as close to your center as he could, before giving it a bite. Fuck, those damn vampire teeth were still in. It hurt at first, and that pain quickly turned into pleasure as he gave you a hickey in the same spot. Your right hand gathered up your dress, allowing you to see a little more of what he was doing, and your left made its way into his hair. He growled impatiently, finding obvious pleasure in you touching him. He kissed the spot where he just placed the hickey, and turned his head, darting his tongue out to finally touch you where he wanted to most. His tongue licked you, desperate to get every ounce of you grazed. Your moans were now louder, the feeling of finally having that face where you wanted it was so relieving. Your hand moved to push his face further into you, causing him to moan against you. Your thighs trembled at that, and his free hand grabbed one and threw it over his shoulder, gaining more access into you. The hand now came to hold yours, giving you stability. His finger left your pussy, now using that hand to slid up your dress and grab your breast. His tongue now all but fucked you, rutting against you. The taste drove him insane, and he needed relief, but the sounds you were making.. the smell and taste.. the mere feeling of his tongue now inserting itself into your pussy was enough for now. He wasn’t eating you out, he was devouring you, feasting upon you, gorging himself of you. He wanted so bad to say some dirty shit to you but he just couldn’t waste a second not between your legs. Your head went back against the wall, eyes rolling as if all started to become too much for you. He pulls off of you for a second, catching a breath. Your high was just seconds away. He looks up at you, your slick covering most of his face, and the fake blood had now turned light pink from being smeared.

“Taste like fuckin’ heaven, love.”

The smirk he gave you showed the fake fangs piercing through, a reminder of just how hot he was as Remmick. You groaned at the sight, moving to shove his face back to where it belonged, needing to make more of a mess of him. He wasn’t ready to eat yet.

He spits right on your clit, a mix of your slick and his spit going back onto his meal, before he let up against your grip, going right back into your pussy. Finally you got your release, but he didn’t care. He was savoring you longer, like you were the last meal he’d ever receive, determined to collect as much of you as he could. His hand slips down from your breast, coming to your thigh and holding you still from the overwhelming sensation. Humming against you, he gave one more good rut of his tongue into you, licking his plate clean. He slid your leg off his shoulder before standing back up to face you.

“Somehow I think you’ve gotten the messier end this time,” you said to him. His leaned in to kiss you, your slick still shining on his face. He laughed, before leaning his forehead onto yours. You moved your head to go on his shoulder, and you noticed a mirror against the wall of the closet.

“Look at yourself, Jack,” you giggled, motioning to the mirror. He turned his head and stared for a second before putting his head down, and laughed.

“Nah, you’ve still made a mess of me, love. I’ve not even got my effects on anymore.”

The sound of your laughter together filled the room, and as the moment passed, silence grew. You wrapped your arms around his neck, before whispering, “I’m sorry,” in his ear. He sighed, turning his head to kiss your neck.

“It’s alright, love. ‘Suppose we can make a deal between us? No more tension, no more glances? You’re real special to me, you know? I’d love to take you out properly one day. And I mean it. Don’t get into your head about it,” he promised, referencing your doubts from earlier.

“Deal. I’m really sorry about that, I just got scared, that’s all. I didn’t wanna ruin a good thing, you know?”

“Come on, you couldn’t drive me away even if you tried. I’m here for you, I want to be with you. Let’s get done filming for the day and I’ll take you out for a nice dinner, yeah?”

You smiled, grateful for what will happen between the two of you. The days of hoping to spend time with him have came to fruition, and now there’s no more awkwardness, just the two of you. You know how you feel about each other, and it’s time you do something about it. Well, something romantic about it.

“That sounds nice, Jack. Let’s make sure this retake is the last of the day.”

A moment of silence was brought between the two of you, just holding each other. A loud knock at the door made the both of you jump, and a voice followed.

“Come on you two, 15 is over. Ryan’s almost back so make sure you get.. appropriate.” Of course, it was Hailee.

“Well.. as appropriate as you can get.” And Wunmi. Great.

“Yeah uh.. we’ll be out. Uh. Just.. go away, we’ll be back out there in a few,” you called out.

“So they know, huh?”

“Well they suspected it, from what I gather everyone did. Just wait until later,” you laughed. You were joking but also, not. He placed a sweet, quick kiss on your forehead before he went to open the door, but you stopped him. He turned and looked at you confused.

Smiling, you laughed and said, “You may wanna stop and clean.. all that,” pointing to the light pink fake blood. He shook his head and replied, “Alright, but you have to clean all that up too,” mimicking your point. The light pink had smeared onto your face too.

“Fuck you,” you muttered under your breath as he opened the door and walked out. Just as you turned to look better into the mirror, the door opened again.

“You’re real close to it, love.”

—

(A/N: as always, reader is meant to be as inclusive as possible, but if any mistakes are made please let me know! also, i’m thinking there will be more parts to this, at least a couple.)

Taglist: @theworldismyoister (if anyone wants to be tagged also, let me know!

[deermouth]

i don't listen to a lot of podcasts because i have to get Tranfixed by them for my brain to allow me to focus on them. so i can't speak broadly to like, the ways in which narrative fiction podcasts as a category use format to drive plot etc. but there's a reason the beginning of the statement in 160 became a meme, which is, it's cool as hell to have your antagonist commandeer your protagonist's voice.

was seized by a compulsion (lol) to wander around my neighborhood after work while listening to mag 160: the eye opens and watching the sky grow dark, and now i'm thinking about how i should really give tmagp another shot, but the thing is that no part of it could ever be as good as the buildup to and reveal of mag 160: the eye opens. so like. i don't wanna.

[daceydeath]

A Work Proposal Masterlist

Pairing: O8T x reader Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Content All parts of this piece are strictly 18+ and contain explicit material reader discretion is advised and the author will not be responsible should prior warnings be ignored.

You had been working with Stray Kids for a while now and after a long day at work turns into a very unexpected but intriguing proposal. Will this change your world or end your career.

Intro Part 1 (Chan x reader) Part 2 (Chan x reader x Changbin) Part 3 (Hyunjin x reader) Part 4 (Han x reader x Felix) Part 5 (Jeongin x reader) Part 6 (Seungmin x reader) Part 7 (Lee Know x reader) Interlude (Chan x reader) Part 8 (Felix x reader) Part 9 (Changbin x reader) Part 10 (Hyunjin x reader x Felix) Part 11 (Seungmin x reader x Lee Know) Part 12 (Changbin x reader x Han) Part 13 (Chan x reader) Part 14 (Han x reader) Part 15 (Changbin x reader x Felix) Part 16 (Jeongin x reader) Intermission (Lee Know x reader) Part 17 (Felix x reader x Seungmin) Part 18 (Chan x reader) Part 19 (coming soon)

Taglist is now closed xx

[uss-butterscotch]

Welcome to Part Five! We’re still in the Max interlude, so enjoy :3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

-

Eddie was counting his brief encounter with Max as a win. He figured, based on the argument he had overheard, and her seemingly general disinterest in almost everything, that she would be willing to give up Harrington’s secrets simply because she didn’t care enough to keep them. All he had to do now was formulate a plan to get her to trust him enough to actually talk to him.

The opportunity presented itself on a particularly brisk morning in mid-October. He made it out of the house in time to not be late to first period for once, and he noticed Max leaving out her front door at the same time, skateboard tucked under her arm. She started walking down the gravel driveway out of the trailer park.

“A little late to start walking to school, isn’t it?” He called after her.

She stopped, turning back to him.

“A little early to be harassing underage girls, isn’t it?” she shot back.

Eddie put his hands up in surrender. “Look, all I’m saying is, we’re going to the same place. If you want a ride, my passenger seat’s wide open,” he peeked into the window, “well, it will be as soon as I throw this bag of trash in the back.”

She glared at him for a concerning amount of time, then rolled her eyes and started walking toward the van. Eddie grinned and hopped into the front seat, throwing as much of the random stuff that was currently occupying the shotgun seat into the back.

When he started up the car, the tape he had left in the stereo began blasting through the speakers. Max, upon entering the van, immediately reached over and ejected it.

“Hey!” He said instinctively, “my car, my music.”

He reached to push the tape back in, but Max snatched it before he could. She opened the glove box and threw it in. “My step-brother used to listen to shit like that.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and put the van in reverse, pulling out of the trailer park. “He doesn’t anymore?”

“He’s dead.”

Despite the constant rattling and slight screeching that accompanied the van while it was in motion, the silence that followed was downright suffocating. Eddie remembered his conversation a few weeks ago with the freshmen of Hellfire. He felt like simultaneously the world’s biggest idiot and asshole.

“Oh shit,” he said quietly, “Billy Hargrove, right?”

Max just glared out the window, arms crossed.

Now don’t get him wrong, Eddie wasn’t glad the guy was dead, but he was glad he didn’t have to run into him ever again. He found it hard to imagine anyone having any sort of positive relationship with Billy Hargrove, but he thought it best to offer his condolences anyway.

“I’m sorry… did you uh, were you guys close?”

“I hated him.” She stated with almost a forced coldness. Like it was something she’d said over and over again.

“Oh.” Was all Eddie could come up with. Truthfully, Eddie could relate to the situation. Al Munson was a real shit show of a human and an even worse father, but now that he was gone, there were a lot of complicated and ugly feelings associated with the memory of him.

Of course, Eddie had had a few years and late night chats with Wayne to carefully tuck all of those feelings away somewhere he wouldn’t burn his mind-hand on them every day when he went to cook up thoughts. Okay that was a weird analogy, sue him, his brain was weird. Anyway, as he was figuring out a way to bring up the similarities of their situations, Max spoke up again.

“I wanted him gone for so long, I should be glad he finally is.” She bit her cheek, “I mean- I’m not glad he’s dead, but I am sort of glad it was him and not anyone else, you know? And I guess I feel bad about that.”

He saw her look sharply at him out of the corner of his eye as he watched the road. “I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this.”

Eddie shrugged. “Maybe because I wasn’t there. I don’t know what happened, so I can’t really give my opinion on it?”

Max nodded slowly. “Or,” he continued, “maybe you could psychically tell I’ve been there. Sort of.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him but kept quiet.

As the school came into view, he said. “Come on, you must know most people don’t end up in Forest Hills trailer park because things went spectacularly right in their life?”

She seemed to accept this line of thought, her expression less accusatory and more contemplative. He pulled into the parking lot. “I have a proposal for you-“

“Why the hell would I marry you?” She cut him off.

“There are other kinds of proposals, Red.” She rolled her eyes, but let him continue. “If you ever wanna have a ‘whose life sucks the worst’ competition with someone who might actually beat you, you know where to find me.”

As he shut the car off, she narrowed her eyes at him, not unlike Robin had the other day, trying to see if he had some other angle. And sure, he had come into the morning with one, but now that he had actually had a conversation with the kid, his main priority was to induct her into the society of lost sheep. Any clues he got from her for his side quest, would just be whipped cream.

After that, as the days got colder, they came to an unspoken agreement. On days that Max’s mom was too “busy” to drive her to school, she’d be waiting, leaning against Eddie’s van, Walkman blasting, until she could hitch a ride with him. Occasionally, if he had turned his alarm off and resigned himself to missing first period, she would bang on his window until he came out, irritated as hell, and got them both to school in record time.

He never tried to play any of his metal tapes again with Max in the car, but once he did steal one of Wayne’s Patsy Cline cassettes and loaded it in the day before. When ‘Walkin’ After Midnight’ started up, Max jumped slightly in surprise that there was music playing at all. Then, when she realized what it was, gave Eddie an equally exasperated and irritated look.

“Do you really think this is what I listen to?” She asked.

“No, but was I right in assuming you have no negative memories associated with dear sweet Patsy?”

She continued glaring at him. Then sighed and shook her head and looked out the window for the rest of the ride. Resolutely ignoring Eddie’s ridiculous singing along.

Most days they didn’t talk about anything. Occasionally they would complain/gossip about their obnoxious neighbors.

On November first she seemed more sullen than usual.

“Who pissed in your corn flakes?” Eddie asked when she didn’t even take her headphones off like she usually did.

When she turned to scowl at him, he noticed the deep purple bags under her eyes.

“Didn’t sleep last night,” she grumbled and turned away from him, closing her eyes. He narrowed his own at her for a second before going to start the van.

Right before he did, the little dog in the yard across the way crashed into the fence and started barking loudly at nothing, as it was usually doing. What was unusual was the way it made Max jump, eyes flying open and sucking in a harsh gasp. She looked around frantically, her breaths quick with panic.

“Woah there, Red, it’s just Mrs. Dalton’s dog getting excited over a squirrel or something,” he said, hoping his casual tone would soothe whatever she thought was happening.

She looked sharply at him, then cleared her throat. She shifted in her seat for a second, then settled back again. “You have your like, game thing tonight, right? With Dustin, and Mike, and Lucas?”

Eddie grinned. “Absolutely. Every Friday night,” he finally started the car, “you thinking of joining?”

She made a face of disgust, “Hell no. Just,” she pressed her lips together like she was thinking, “do you- you’re not planning on using demogorgons or anything, are you?”

Halfway through reversing out of his parking spot, he gaped at her in shock. “You know what a demogorgon is? I thought you didn’t play?”

“I don’t.” She snapped, “But I am friends with those nerds and they don’t shut up about it.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at her and pulled out of the trailer park. “Why shouldn’t I use deomogorgons?”

Max’s eyes darted around in a way that was becoming all too familiar to Eddie, she was figuring out a way to say something without revealing details of a secret, and if he had to guess, it was the same secret that the others were protecting when they did it.

“It’s just that, well, do you remember when Will Byers went missing?” She eventually said.

Eddie nodded, and then apparently died and came back to life he thought. “Yeah, what does that have to do with my D&D game?”

“The night that he disappeared, they were playing D&D together, the guys and Will, and they were fighting a demogorgon,” she explained stiltedly, “and it was around this time of year, it just- it might bring up bad memories…” She trailed off and watched the trees fly past the window as they drove.

Eddie nodded and hummed in consideration. “Does it bring up bad memories for you?”

She turned back to him, eyebrows furrowed. “No. I moved here last year, I didn’t even know Will then.”

“Ah, so you look like death warmed over this morning for completely unrelated reasons.” He said sarcastically.

“Yes, actually.” She said, failing to elaborate.

Eddie raised his eyebrows, indicating she should go on.

She continued glaring at him, he figured she hoped he would back down eventually. Unlucky for her, he was the stubborn type. He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Max rolled her eyes. “Fine, if it’ll get you to stop making that face, I’ll tell you.” She sighed, “Today is the anniversary of the night my dead stepbrother attacked Lucas and almost beat Steve Harrington to death in front of us.”

Eddie should really learn his lesson about prying for more information than he was prepared for from Max. They sat in Eddie’s stunned silence for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“Right, yeah, Wheeler mentioned that, but he was pretty sparse on the details,” he decided to take the opportunity to learn more about one of the events he believed to be central to the mystery, “what exactly happened that night? Why were you guys hanging out with Harrington?”

She scoffed, sounding offended. “Did it maybe occur to you that I don’t want to talk about that?”

Eddie almost wanted to push further, but he remembered how successful that had been for Harrington. He glanced over to her to find her daring him to continue with her eyes.

Eventually, he clicked his teeth and shook his head. “Look, Red, I’m not gonna try to make you talk about anything you don’t want to. I’ll keep driving you to school in complete silence if that’s what you desire,” stopped at a stoplight, he turned to give her a meaningful look, “but, loathe as I am to admit it, I agree with Harrington’s sentiment the other night, whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone. You shouldn’t, that road never leads anywhere good.”

Her pinched expression didn’t falter. “And I’m supposed to take advice from the guy who failed senior year twice and sells weed to the losers of this town?”

Eddie shrugged, “All I’m hearing from that is that I have, at least a little more life experience than you, which I might have used to figure out some things about dealing with shit like this.”

“Shit like what?” She spat.

“Shit you don’t think you can talk about.” he said casually, purposefully in contrast to her building temper, “Shit that hurts to think about, even when it’s the only thing you can think about.”

They were quiet for a long moment before she eventually spoke up. Her gaze had moved from Eddie to the town of Hawkins speeding by out the window.

“I keep having nightmares.”

Part 6

[theabyssal]

Hello! It's me 🖤💀

It has been a long time, but I have some good news. You guys can read a sneak peek of a scene I'm working on from Chapter 3 on Patreon. I also recently posted a Death x Quaboth x Amorr short. So make sure to check it out ;)

Aside from that, I'm having incredible fun being back at writing after focusing much of my time on working and moving to the other side of the country. You guys can expect a lot from the next update, whose dates will be announced very soon.

☠︎︎ A lot of content was added to the Marcello(a) introduction scene, Quaboth's interlude, and domain selection scenes.

☠︎︎ Revised the entirety of chapter 2 and added a few new scenes to it (close to 15k words in total).

☠︎︎ Chapter 3 part 1. Have more flashbacks and finally meet Éoin and learn what changed during the two thousand years Death was imprisoned (spoiler alert - a lot of things changed).

All in all, I hope everyone is well. I'll be back soon with the dates for the next update!! 🖤

[isabelckl]

southside carl: on going

carl gallagher x new neighbor!reader

moving to Southside, Chicago wasn’t part of the plan, but it happened fast after your dad lost his job. What started as a boring summer turned into years of growing up alongside the Gallagher chaos, becoming best friends with Debbie—and something more complicated with Carl Gallagher.

genre: angst, slow burn, enemies (friends) to lovers, teen fic, coming of age, fluff

♤ Southside Carl 1

♤ Southside Carl 2

♤ Southside Carl 3

♤ Southside Carl 4

♤ Southside Carl 5

♤ Southside Carl Interlude: Fifth Grade

♤ Southside Carl Interlude: Summer Snapshots

♤ Southside Carl Interlude: Sixth Grade

♤ Southside Carl 6

♤ Southside Carl 7

♤ Southside Carl 8