#feather fics

[animal-feather]

needed to share these excerpts/concepts/vibes from my brocedes fic planning doc because i was feeling too emotional

this is a tragedy. fully knowing someone and using that against them (“I know you”). love and how it transcends everything. price of winning. losing/giving up everything. “Learn to let me go”. isolation. impact of knowing a person, how you change each other, and the hole they can leave behind. “This changes everything” “this changes nothing”. love to the point of ruination. giving up but not letting go, not moving on (because how can you?)

[anna-scribbles]

chapter 12 of @buggachat’s open my eyes has (to no one’s surprise) been wrecking me👍 read it!!

[vortexbloom]

He’s such a cutie tbh 💋

[loverofwomenswrongs]

I DON'T THINK I COULD LOVE YOU MORE

****** Pairing: Billie Eilish x fem!reader Words: 1.9K

****** [So after everything that happened, I really wanted to write something cute and happy for the Grammys, I've been obssessed with Billie these last days, so I hope you like it!!!]

The alarm went off earlier than usual on the morning of the Grammys. Y/n stirred beneath the covers, stretching an arm out to find her girlfriend—only to be met with an empty, cold spot. She frowned. If there was one thing she knew about Billie, it was how much she despised getting out of bed without spending a few minutes tangled together, exchanging sleepy kisses.

With a sigh, Y/n lazily pulled her hair into a messy bun and grabbed one of Billie’s oversized sweatshirts. If they were already huge on the singer, Y/n practically drowned in them, despite being taller than her girlfriend. But that’s exactly what made them so cozy.

She padded toward the kitchen, where she found Billie perched on a stool, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. Y/n approached her from behind, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting her chin on her girlfriend’s shoulder. It was only then that she noticed how tense Billie was.

“Good morning, my love,” Y/n murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. But instead of the usual warm response, Billie only managed a small, tight-lipped smile—more a grimace than anything.

Y/n’s brows furrowed. Something’s up.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

Billie let out a heavy sigh, finally turning in Y/n’s embrace to face her. “Sorry, baby. It’s just… I’m a bit stressed about tonight.” She hesitated, then ran a hand through her hair. “Claudia called me before the alarm went off. Turns out Finneas woke up feeling sick… and he lost his voice. Like, he literally can’t sing, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry,” Y/n said sincerely. “But I know you’ll figure something out. Have you talked to your team?” As she spoke, she absentmindedly ran her fingers through Billie’s hair, knowing it always helped calm her—even just a little.

“I called my mom, and she said I have two options: find someone to do the harmonies while Finneas plays guitar, or sing without them and just have him play.”

Y/n nodded, considering it. “What do you want to do?” she asked, pulling away briefly to make herself a cup of coffee. She missed the way Billie immediately pouted at the loss of her touch. Once her drink was ready, Y/n returned to her girlfriend’s side, taking Billie’s hand in hers and tracing slow, soothing circles on her knuckles.

“Finneas says he’ll still be okay to play, so that’s not the issue,” Billie admitted. “But I would really like someone to sing with me. It gives the song more depth, y’know? Makes it feel… fuller.”

Y/n took a thoughtful sip of her coffee. “That makes sense. Is there anyone you can call? I mean, you still have one more rehearsal—you could try it out with someone and see how it feels.”

Billie fell silent, deep in thought. A few moments later, a small smile tugged at her lips as she turned to face Y/n again.

“Baby,” she started sweetly. “You know I love you, right?”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, immediately suspicious. “Of course I know… Why?”

Billie hesitated, her blue eyes wide and pleading. “Well… You obviously know the lyrics to the song…”

Y/n’s stomach dropped. “…Yeah?”

“You’ve been to every rehearsal, so you know exactly where Finneas comes in…”

“Billie…”

“And even if you don’t believe it, you do have an amazing voice…”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “I do not like where this is going.”

Billie pressed her lips together before finally blurting it out. “Sooo… Maybe… Remember that I love you so, so much… but maybe you could—I don’t know—sing with me tonight?” She whispered the last part, voice pitching higher as she looked at Y/n with the most hopeful expression imaginable.

Y/n stared at her. “Babe. That is crazy.” She set her coffee down, heart rate already spiking. “I have never sung in front of anyone—barely anyone. And you want me to do it at the Grammys? In front of actual singers? I cannot do that. I’m not prepared. We’ve never even sung your song together—it might not even work!”

Panic was creeping into her voice now, but she also refused to meet Billie’s gaze. She knew that if she looked into those big, ocean-blue eyes, she’d be done for.

Billie took both of Y/n’s hands in hers. “Love, I trust you. I know you can do it. And, like you said, we still have one more rehearsal. Just try it—for me? Please?”

Y/n groaned, running a hand down her face. She was losing this battle fast.

“I don’t know… Are you completely sure you wouldn’t be better off on your own?” she tried one last time.

Billie shook her head, voice unwavering. “I’ll never be better than when I’m with you.”

Y/n exhaled sharply, already knowing she’d caved. Billie could ask her for the moon, and she’d find a way to bring it to her.

“I hate that I love you so much,” she grumbled. “You better make it up to me later.”

Billie smirked, immediately tugging Y/n closer by the hem of the sweatshirt, pulling her between her legs. One hand found its way to Y/n’s waist, the other tilting her chin up until their lips were just inches apart.

“Oh, you bet I will,” Billie murmured before capturing Y/n’s lips in a slow, deep kiss—soft, yet full of passion.

—

Much to Y/n’s dismay, the rehearsal went way too smoothly. Her voice blended perfectly with Billie’s, something she had no choice but to admit. And despite the nerves that had plagued her all morning, she found herself feeling… a little more confident, comforted by the presence of the siblings—Finneas strumming the guitar beside her, Billie performing so effortlessly that it almost felt natural to join in. Her girlfriend hadn’t stopped showering her with compliments, making sure she knew just how amazing she was.

Now, as they got ready for the night, their hotel room was packed with stylists, makeup artists, and assistants bustling around to make sure they looked their best. Clothes were everywhere—red carpet looks, performance outfits, even afterparty choices. It was overwhelming, but Y/n took it all in stride. She’d do anything for Billie, and she’d do it a hundred times over.

“Baby?”

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of Billie’s voice. She hummed in acknowledgment, letting her know she was listening.

“I was thinking… Since you’ll be on stage with me tonight, maybe you could also join me on the red carpet?” Billie hesitated before continuing, her voice softer. “I know we weren’t planning to confirm our relationship, but I kinda want to… I want to hold your hand and kiss you without worrying about the cameras.”

Y/n smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “I think today’s perfect,” she agreed. “Besides, bringing me as your plus one would’ve already been suspicious. Not that we’re very discreet anyway. People really don’t believe our ‘we’re just friends’ speech anymore.”

They both laughed, knowing she was right. They had never officially confirmed anything, but they had never exactly hidden it either. They were private—but that didn’t mean they had to pretend.

—

Y/n had no idea how Billie remained so composed throughout the entire evening. Just walking the red carpet had her stressing, but she thought she’d done pretty well—posing for pictures, both together and separately, sneaking fond glances at Billie when the singer wasn’t looking.

She had met so many artists she admired, with Billie proudly introducing her to people like Sabrina Carpenter and Chappell Roan, all while Y/n tried very hard not to freak out. But no matter how nerve-wracking it was, the steady presence of Billie’s hand on her back kept her grounded. The singer made sure she was okay at all times—whether by asking directly, squeezing her hand, or simply locking eyes from across the room.

But now, as they stood backstage, changed into their performance outfits, Y/n’s nerves returned—stronger than ever.

She tried to hide it, not wanting to add to Billie’s stress, but of course her girlfriend saw right through her.

A few minutes before stepping on stage, Billie pulled her into a hug, making her look at her.

“You’re going to do great, baby. I know it. Just like in rehearsals.”

“Yeah… except this time, real singers will be watching.”

Billie smirked. “And? I’ll be there. Finneas will be there. If it gets too overwhelming, just look at me, alright?”

Y/n exhaled shakily but nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

They shared a soft kiss before someone from production signaled that it was time.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n stepped behind the microphone. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest, but then—Finneas placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. They exchanged a small smile, just as the lights dimmed.

Only for Billie to start… talking?

“Hi, guys!” Her voice echoed through the venue, casual and warm. “Normally, we don’t introduce our songs because we’re short on time, but luckily, they gave me a pass tonight.” She chuckled, the crowd responding with cheers. “This morning, we woke up to some sad news—my brother lost his voice. And, as you know, his harmonies are super important to this song. So, we had to find a solution.”

She turned slightly, glancing at Y/n with a teasing sparkle in her eyes.

“Finneas is still going to play, obviously, but tonight, someone very special to me will be singing his part.” She paused before adding, “She’s a little nervous, so if you know the song—please, help us sing. Here’s ‘Birds of a Feather’ with Finneas and Y/n!”

And just like that—it began.

At first, Y/n could barely hear herself over the sound of her own heartbeat, but as the song progressed, she found herself feeling it. The music, the moment, the presence of Billie right next to her. Every now and then, Billie would glance over, locking eyes and smiling, silently reminding her that she was right where she needed to be.

Before she knew it, it was over.

As the final note rang through the venue and the applause roared around them, Y/n barely had time to process it before Billie wrapped her in a tight hug.

“I knew you could do it! You were amazing, baby!” Billie gushed, cupping Y/n’s face and pressing quick kisses all over it.

“Says you!” Y/n laughed breathlessly. “You were born for this, my love. Thank you for trusting me.”

“I always will,” Billie murmured. “I love you so much, Y/n.”

“I love you too.”

They kissed like there was no one else around them—before finally heading back to their seats. But not before Y/n insisted on changing back into her dress, claiming she didn’t want to spend the rest of the night in a t-shirt.

Of course, Billie mocked her for it. “Nothing’s better than a t-shirt, babe.”

They continued watching the show, Billie leaning over at one point as the stage was being set for Sabrina Carpenter’s performance.

With a mischievous smirk, she whispered into Y/n’s ear, “You do know the next step is for you to sing with me on tour, right? And not just the harmonies.”

Y/n turned to her, eyes wide. “You’re kidding.”

Billie just grinned, bursting into laughter at her reaction. And, despite herself, Y/n couldn’t help but laugh too.

She shook her head, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Billie’s lips. “I was going to refuse, but… you do know all you have to do is ask.”

[mmagurro]

kingfisher feathers,,,this fic has once again put me in a chokehold after the last update 😭 finally gotten around to make something for it :(

[holyblonded]

purple string rings | birds of a feather

pairings: paige bueckers x black!oc

summary: paige and cecilia will be together forever and always even when paige randomly hard launches their relationship

warnings: fluff galore, mentions/illusions to death

notes: new series while I think of stuff for the other one😛

Paige has been married for eighteen of her twenty one years of life. Married to the love of her life at that.

Paige, ever the extrovert, sought out the shyest kid in her kindergarten class on the first day of school and declared they were best friends. By recess, Paige declared she and - were married.

"Cecilia, I love you," five year old Paige stated, holding Cecilia's hands in hers. The two stood under a tree secluded from the rest of their class. "Will you marry me?"

Cecilia who was still learning the English language and was quite shy, decided the best thing to do was to just nod. Paige smiled brightly and hugged Cecilia.

From that moment on, the two were stuck together like glue. Where ever Paige was Cecilia was and vice versa. Paige isn't at the basketball court? Oh, she must be down the soccer field watching Cecilia practice. Cecilia is at the field? She's obviously with in the stands watching Paige and Drew goof around.

Paige hated it when people said the two weren't wed.

"Paige, you can't exactly marry someone this young," Bob Bueckers tried to explain to his daughter.

Paige stomped her foot down and crossed her arms, "No, Dad! We are married! Cece is my wife." She even made Cecilia a ring out of purple yarn and strings, but she wore everyday until she couldn't anymore. Little Paige made sure everyone knew who her wife was.

Eventually, one day in eighth grade the paper ring became a real ring, something Paige saved all her allowance to buy. It was nothing extraordinary, but a simple gold band that Cecilia cherished with her whole heart.

At the end of their eighth grade year, Cecilia gifted Paige a ring. The same day Cecilia left to for Spain. Cecilia slipped the matching silver ring onto Paige's finger with a wobbly smile, "Now we both have something to prove our marriage."

"I love you, Cecilia."

"I love you too, Paige."

That ring was kept on both persons at all times. Paige opted to tie it with her shoe laces during her games and while Cecilia couldn't wear any jewelry during her games, she kisses her right ring finger before every game.

It didn’t take long for the media to notice Paige’s ring on her shoes as a freshman at UConn. After UConn upset Syracuse, an interviewer finally asked. “Paige many people have noticed the ring stringed in your shoe, would you like to offer an explanation?”

Nika and Aubrey sat at either sides of Paige and both laughed when the question was asked.

“It’s from my wife,” Paige bluntly said. The media room when quiet as they all absorbed the words.

“Excuse me?”

“My wife got it for me,” Paige held up her right hand that bore the ring. “Pretty neat, right? I’m really proud of her, she recently won the Golden Girl Award.”

“Uh, Paige,” a different interviewer asked, “is your… wife the young Barcelona star Cecilia Buscatells?”

“Yep.”

The room erupted with questions as Geno shut down the press conference, “That’s all for today, thank you.”

Paige, Nika, and Aubrey walked out in silence.

“Cece is going to kill you,” Nika said as they continued their journey to the locker room. Aubrey hummed in agreement.

“She is, isn’t she?”

[trulyy-yourzz]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8R9CqFt/

Could you PLEAAASE make a fic where we're riding Billie's strap, and she looks at us like she is in the video 🙏

(I love your fics btw! Super excited for the upcoming one)

Of course lovey! Anything for my first request🤭

(Aaah, im so excited for you guys to see it, too!!)

"F-fuck!...billie, I can't -" Billies hand comes down hard on your ass, smacking roughly. Her other hand gently grabing at your chin to face her. You looked so fucked out and over the moon. She absolutely loved it. "Oh but you can. You were doing so well."

━─━────━─━────━─━────━─━────

Billie's music video was finally finished. She'd been working on it for quite a while and wanted you to be the first to see it. "Babyyyy!" She yelled for you, opening the bedroom door to find you laying in the bed on your phone. "Yes, my love?" You smiled and giggled as she plopped on the bed next to you. She looked so excited like a little puppy, which made you excited, too. Even if you didn't know what she was so thrilled about.

"It's finished." She couldn't help but smile so brightly, knowing that you would be ecstatic about the music video finally being done. "What'd you finish?" You said, raising a brow and tilting your head as you reached to cup her cheek. "The music video for birds of a feather, wanna see?" Your face lit up as you sat up in anticipation. "Uh? yes!"

You both laughed as she sat next to you, handing you her phone as you pressed play. Halfway into the music video, you noticed she was very... expressive. Especially in that one scene where she was sat on the couch with her head laid back. And that turned you on more than it should've. Immediately, she noticed how fidgety you were getting and well... that's how you ended up here, riding her strap, aching for more.

━─━────━─━────━─━────━─━────

She lifted your hips slowly and let go as you fell down onto her strap. You grabbed onto her shoulders, nails digging into her skin and crying out her name as your back arched. "That's why you shouldn't rely on me baby. Go ahead. You got it." You lifted your hips, creating a rhythm that was comfortable for both you and Billie. You let out the sluttiest moans ever and at that point she craved you even more.

Grabbing onto your hips, she sped up the pace as she lifted you up off of her strap and pulled you back down. Your head fell down onto her shoulder, moaning into her ear whilst she fucked you like a starved animal. "Fuck...look at you. So unbelievably sexy, riding my cock like this."

She snaked one of her hands up to your nipple, pinching and pulling gently as she groaned, hearing you whimper in her ear. You were so frail and vulnerable in her arms. "Billie... fuck. I'm so close." You sat up, and your eyes fluttered closed as she increased her pace. The wet sound of her strap thrusting in and out of your seeping pussy, along with your moans, echoed throughout the room. You looked down, and there it was. That impure and lecherous gaze she had in her eyes. The same one from the music video.

She bit her lip, smirking as she pulled you down firmly, your pussy throbbing around her cock as she coaxed your orgasm out of you. She reached down for your sensitive bud between your thighs, rubbing softly, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Your legs spasmed, toes curled as heat rushed throughout your body, all the way down to your core. Billie rubbed her thumb against your bottom lip, waiting for you to open your mouth. Once you did, she stuck those same fingers that were rubbing against your clit, into your mouth. You licked and sucked, moaning onto her fingers as you made eye contact with her.

"Mhm. Such a good girl. Just for me."

.

.

.

I got a little carried away but that's okay, I hope you enjoyeddd!

[girlkisser13]

birds of a feather

"i knew you in another life" "you had that same look in your eyes" "i love you, don’t act so surprised"

pairings: percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings/tags: none. tooth rotting fluff. established relationship.

summary: "i love you in every universe."

the warm afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting a dappled pattern of light and shadow over the grassy clearing. the air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers, and the gentle hum of bees buzzed around the two of you as you sat cross-legged on the soft grass, your fingers deftly weaving a colorful flower crown. percy lay with his head in your lap, his eyes closed, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. his dark hair felt soft under your touch as you carefully arranged the flowers, making sure each one was placed just right.

the two of you had stolen away to this hidden spot, far from the hustle and bustle of camp half-blood. it was your secret sanctuary, a place where the both of you could escape from the chaos of your lives as demigods and simply be yourselves. as you worked on his flower crown, you found myself lost in the simple, soothing rhythm of the task.

percy’s voice broke the comfortable silence, soft and contemplative. "do you think parallel universes are real?"

you paused, your fingers stilling for a moment as you considered his question. "i don’t know," you admitted, your focus still on the flowers in your hands. "maybe. there’s a lot we don’t understand about the universe."

percy opened his eyes and looked up at you, his sea-green eyes thoughtful. "i’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. about how there could be other versions of us out there, living different lives."

you nodded absently, selecting a bright yellow daisy and adding it to the crown. "it’s a nice idea. infinite possibilities and all that."

he reached up and took your hand, his touch warm and grounding. "do you think we’d still find each other? in those other universes?"

his question caught you off guard, and you looked down at him, your heart skipping a beat. there was something earnest and vulnerable in his expression that made your chest tighten with emotion.

"i don’t know," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "i’d like to think so."

percy’s smile widened, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "i think we would. no matter what."

you tilted your head, curiosity piqued. "how do you know?"

he shifted slightly, turning so that he could look up at you more easily. "because i love you," he said simply. "and my love for you is so strong, so pure, that i can’t imagine any version of me not feeling the same way. it’s like... like a universal constant."

you felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you looked away, focusing on the flower crown to hide your embarrassment. "that’s... really sweet, percy."

"i’m serious," he insisted. "i believe that in every universe, i would find you. and i would love you just as much as i do now."

you could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart swell with affection. you finished the last few touches on the flower crown and gently placed it on his head, the colorful blossoms a stark contrast to his dark hair.

"there," you said, smiling down at him. "perfect."

percy reached up to touch the crown, his fingers brushing against the petals. "thank you," he said softly. "for everything."

you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin against your lips. "i don't think i could love you any more than i already do," you said quietly. "i think i’d love you till the day i die."

he closed his eyes again, his expression one of utter contentment. "that’s all i need to hear."

you stayed like that for a while, the world around you fading into the background. in that moment, it didn’t matter what dangers awaited you outside your little sanctuary, or what challenges you would have to face as demigods. all that mattered was the here and now, and the love the two of you shared.

and maybe, just maybe, percy was right. maybe your love was a universal constant, something that would endure no matter what. it was a comforting thought, one that made you believe in the possibility of parallel universes and the idea that you would always find each other, no matter what.

as the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, you knew that this moment would be etched in your memory forever. because in every universe, in every possible reality, you knew one thing for certain: you would always love percy jackson.

[whowrotethenote]

𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

A/N // Short story set in the universe of Biggest Fan. This takes place during Wrestle-mania 40 weekend; before All We Do, after Company, and after One Of Your Girls.

Warnings // Angst // Smut // NSFW // Adultery // Profanity // Age gap // Consumption of alcohol // Mentions of disease

Word Count // 5.6k

Disclaimer // Biggest Fan Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist // Main Masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ I knew you in another life. You had that same look in your eyes. I love you don't act so surprised.

— Billie Eilish (Birds of A Feather)

Monday, April 1, 2024

The sun fighting through the sheer white drapes of our living room is enough to wake me all the way up. I groan and shiver at the chill of early morning in nothing but a white tank and silk pajama shorts. There’s nothing on the agenda today. No class. No work. And still, my body decides to rise at seven a.m. 

The hefty pile of mail Anthony left on the marble island top catches my attention. Bills, bills, and more bills. The sight of which would’ve given me a heart attack prior to earning myself a seat at a table, where he is the head. 

I rapidly shuffle through white envelopes emblemed with companies who want what they’re owed before a blank one halts me. No logo. No company. No return address. Still, my name—Alana Floyd— is printed on the back of it. I rip the top open and unfold the thin stack of papers. 

“Demi!” My slippers scrape and slide across the floor of our hallway and I almost slide right past her open door. She rubs her eyes, craning her neck up and squinting with a colorful scarf pulled tight atop her head. I wiggle the loose tickets in my hand. “We're gonna go see…Dwayne.”

Her square face lights up as she plops it back on the plush pillow. “Before I do too much—this isn't an April Fools joke?”  

“It's not, I fear.” 

“He's a generous Tribal Chief,” she croaks. I scan over the hotel itinerary. April fourth to April eighth. That won't work. “Oh my god—you think you'll wear his underwear?” 

“I don’t see him leaving the speedos behind for this one.” I scroll through my messages to find WiseMan.

“All the hotels are probably booked up now.” 

I laugh at her seven a.m. cluelessness. “Oh—my man thinks of everything.” I wiggle the other papers adorned with the hotel itinerary and confirmation.

“He's like a genie. Only we got way more than three wishes…and a side of tribal dick.” 

i got the tickets. thank him for me pls. No problem. Car will be there Thursday. Should we send it in the morning? we don’t get out of class until 2 that day. we can't stay until the eighth. finishing midterms. we'll have to leave on Sunday morning or Saturday night… I'll let him know

I lean on her door frame, peering down the hall that leads to the kitchen. On the center of the island, a large bouquet—pink and white mix of roses he replaced from Valentine’s day starting their descend to death. Still breathtaking nonetheless.

The gifts just didn’t stop. One week it’s a bouquet too big for me to carry in myself. The next week it’s a bag I don’t even see on the designer’s website yet. Shoes. Jewelry. Whatever. And I didn’t ask for any of it. The stuff on the shelves and hangers of my walk-in can probably feed an entire high school for months. 

Demi’s sly chuckle breaks my thoughts—wiping away my smirk that I didn’t even realize captured my face. “What?”

“Oh nothing. Just wondering if you’re going to be staying with me or him.” She screws her face up, mouth falling open while making the bed creak. 

Shaking my head, I walk away from her door to go shower. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cum twice!” She yells down the hall. “One for you—one for me!”

Thursday, April 4, 2024

In the city of brotherly love—home to the greasiest cheesesteaks, where they bleed green and curse you out for absolutely nothing—Demi and I fit right in.

The Ritz-Carlton planted in Center City—structured like a Cathedral inside and out—treated us like royalty. Demi and I didn’t lift a manicured finger and no request was too much. 

The room is massive. Built like a penthouse and certainly too much for two girls only staying for a few days. There’s a bottle of champagne waiting for us on a California King—whitest bedding tucked tight to perfection. We don’t waste a second cracking it open. Mouths in a mutual O, when the cork goes flying recklessly, leaving a mark on the ceiling. Somebody else’s problem.

White foam overflows and spills over the neck of the bottle and down her hand. No cups needed. We take turns passing it back and forth, basically inhaling the crisp liquid until the bottle is empty. 

The night is ridiculously young. So, we let Summer Walker and Latto be the background noise to our rampant routine of getting ready to hit the streets hard. Tonight we bring in Wrestle-mania weekend the right way.

Already half-way drunk from the bottle of champagne, we end up at Noto—a nightclub where some YouTuber is hosting. Whoever he is, he has the club packed out. Faces wall to wall. Every section full of niggas with jewelry shining, even in the dark—accompanied by women that belong in some rapper’s music video.

In the middle of it, Demi and I, utilize a section to ourselves. Dropping a bag on Ace of Spades and 1942. The DJ plays Dreams and Nightmares and it’s a wrap. Our heads are gone, as we scream the lyrics back and forth as if we lived every single line. Blue lights shining down on us— cameras out, taking videos we don’t even plan to post. Creating enough memories to last a lifetime and stories to brag to our future children about.

Saturday, April 6, 2024

Everything about this Wrestle-mania is different from the one before. The tickets were intended for us—not some miracle-ridden accident due to an old man carelessly flinging tickets around in the air. A much smoother transition from all the hustling and bustling—pushing through strangers like we did last year. No floor seats. Skybox Lounge. An entire suite to ourselves. Removed from all the chaos of pumped up testosterone and rowdy kids down below. 

“Excuse me ma’am.” A light touch to my shoulder has my head shooting up. A dark-haired woman in all black, with a headset on and clipboard tucked tight under her arm looks me in the eyes. “Are you Alana Floyd?” She asks.

I hesitate for a moment. I’m not even supposed to be here. Not just here in the skybox where all the important people belong—but here period—supporting my closeted sponsor and fuckbuddy. This makes me rethink answering her—whoever she is. How does she even know my full name?

“…I am.” 

“Do you mind coming with me, please?” She steps a little ways back allowing me space.

I look to Demi, whose furrowed eyebrows mimic mine as she shrugs. “Are we switching seats or something?” I ask the unknown lady.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I just need you. You’ll be right back before the main event.”

She’s swift in all her movements as I struggle to keep up in these six inch designer heels—too busy gawking at faces I’ve only seen through a TV screen before, as I am forced to just pass them by. Radiant and charismatic as they seem in character. 

It’s all a blur. Everyone moving in a different direction at a different pace. Backstage crew with equipment, men in suits, and more people talking into headsets like hers. She leads me down and down—removed from all the chaos and activity the further we go. Before I know it we’re stopping at a door. A man I know very well coming out of it.

“Lana,” Pauls greets me with more enthusiasm than I expect.

“Paul.” I nod. I see what’s happening now. All three of us are quiet. Paul and I’s smile fading in the silence. The mystery lady straight-faced and all business. 

“I’ll be out here waiting.” She’s the first to speak, flicking her head to the closed door Paul came out of. 

I nod and face the door, twisting the metal knob to push it open. My breath immediately taken away. That feeling never goes away. I’ll never get used to this. Used to him. The door clicks behind me automatically.

Legs spread, bun loose, as he messes with the red glove on his wrist. Our eyes lock and he stands tall across the way. It’s so weird seeing him like this. Before, Joe was the stranger and seeing him in anything other than ring gear was alarming. Now it’s the opposite. Him without all the extra is comforting and the ring gear is as it’s intended to be—a costume.

The silence is comfortable yet charged. Compelled to speak, but not knowing what to say, I settle for, “hi.”

A clipping breath comes through his nostrils. “Hi,” he responds. Another beat of silence, used to just drink each other in. “I hope you don’t mind that I put you up high.”

“No, it's fine. I’m just happy to be here. I think it's better away from the crowd. I can see everything up there.”

He nods. “Noted.”

I look him over again. Swallowing hard at the gloss over his hard chest and explicitly defined arms. “Are you nervous, at all?”

His upper lip tugs at the corner to reveal the dimple line beneath his dark beard. “Nah.” He shakes his head adjusting the red glove again. “Done this too many times to count.”

“Right. I used to get nervous before every meet,” I share. 

“Not you, Miss Penn Relays.”

Didn’t matter how fast I was or still am. I can’t outrun this feeling. Rooted deep in emotions so overwhelming—so foreign, yet familiar. 

I giggle. “I know. My mom used to have to talk me down before every race.”

“What would she say?”

“That nerves are only a result of doubt—and there’s no need to doubt cause if I wasn’t supposed to be there—I wouldn’t have been.”

His eyes dance over my frame. “Wise woman.” I nod in agreement. “You think I belong here?” He probes. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“And what about you?” He steps closer invading all possible personal space. “You belong here?”

My neck cranes up to not loose sight of his perfect face. He’s so close, I can smell whatever oil they put on him paired with the conditioner he uses for his hair. 

His eyes are low as they’re pinned on me. “I’m here, aren’t I?” I answer almost inaudibly.

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

I’m caught in that rift, where the part of my brain that stops me from doing what I want—what I feel—it gets fuzzy. Almost like I’m drunk on something. I’m leaning in before I can stop myself. On my tippy toes to accommodate for the eight inches he has on me. I kiss him.

“—I’m sorry.” I’ve never done that without the courage of alcohol flinging me. But tonight, I’m drunk on something else. 

His upper body leans down into me, overpowering my presence in this room. My breath hitches with every centimeter of space he closes. Before I know it our lips meet again. Soft at first. Like he doesn’t want to break me. But another follows—and another—until his tongue is being warmed in my mouth and my hand instinctively grips the neck of his neck. 

I breathe again when he pulls away abruptly. Our foreheads touching while his brown eyes pierce mine. 

“I’m gonna need you back on the bus when everything’s done,” he whispers. My voice fails me, so I nod to indicate I understand. A knock on the door breaks our bubble. “I gotta go.” He pushes his forehead into mine one last time before moving away. Grabbing a spray bottle, he makes his way to the door. 

I try to settle the butterflies in the my stomach, paired with the tsunami he left me to deal with down below. 

“—And Alana?”

“Yes?” In slits his eyes trace the perimeter of my entire body. Head to toe.

“Fucking perfect.”

Demi gets her wish. Dwayne came out with his speedos—tight and on full display. The man I just left—or a scripted version of him—enters the arena shortly after. Taking his time as usual—strutting and letting the room soak in his power and magnetism. 

I don’t know how the two of them are just now tag teaming for the first time. Besides them being family, their chemistry in the ring is harmonious. It just makes sense.

The way he tosses and maneuvers Cody and Seth—it’s equally terrifying as it is thrilling. I shift in the seat—throbbing. A deep pulse growing down below watching his dominance. Another in my heart every time he gets slammed. I flinch at every hit. I wasn’t doing this before. What the hell is wrong with me? I used to be able to watch a match with no issue. I was all for the violence, being able to spot every hit that doesn’t connect or a move that’s just two men working together instead of against one another. But tonight, it looks like every hit might kill him and it has my anxiety at an all time high.

There’s no shock—to me at least—when I hear the one, two, three. A pin by The Final Boss to The American—not so—Nightmare. He looks defeated and I hope it’s all for the cameras and the crowd. On his knees, nose dried up with blood, and hair wild as it can be. 

Demi and I scream in celebration like two fangirls that belong in front row. Two of our childhood favorites, live in action, whooping straight ass. It doesn’t get any better than this. Or maybe it does—seeing as I get to reward the winner myself later. 

Chugging the last of our drinks, we pack it up to leave. Not even a few feet out of the Lounge and Demi’s scream paired with a gorilla grip on my forearm, has my head snapping in her direction.

“Oh my god!”

I follow her line of sight and gasp. 

“Well, hello to you too young lady.” 

“Somebody fucking pinch me.”

“I would do it, but I think I’ll get in trouble.” Randy fucking Orton. This weekend is one for the books. He flashes us both a smile. 

“I think I’m the one hearing voices in my head, now.” Demi pulls her phone from her back pocket. “Take our picture—please, please, please.”

Taking her phone I step back from them. “How we looking, baby girl?” He questions. 

“Like supermodels,” I tell him. “With voices in their heads who should probably see somebody about that.”

I’m not surprised at all, by how friendly he is. A far cry from his menacing character on-screen. Fitting and molding into our tipsy goofiness, like we came here together. He has us laughing so hard, my stomach is tight like I did a core workout. At one point, even lifting his shirt so we can feel his abs. 

Mid-laugh, I hear my name being called. “Hey.” I turn to find the lady from earlier with no headset, but still with that urgent energy like she doesn’t have a second to waste. “Just a gentle reminder that he wants you in his trailer, okay?” She tells me, in a tone low enough for only me to receive. 

“Yeah, sure.” She’s gone just as fast as she came, like lightning. 

I don’t even know how long we stay inside chatting to Randy. We talk about the match—dissecting the storyline and telling him what we think should happen next. We talk about him—how much The Viper meant to us as kids and how good it feels to still see him in the ring after all these years. We talk about him…

“Don’t tell me y’all are here alone?” He looks past us and then turns back the opposite way. Besides us, there’s only about three other groups of stragglers up here still, combined with staff. “No dates?”

“Nope,” Demi answers first. “Just two girls who enjoy shirtless men fighting to the death.”

“Oh, come on. No way your boyfriends let you two come alone. No special someone?”

I laugh bitterly. “Oh, there’s someone. But special?” Yeah, right. I shake my head lifting a brow. 

“I know that look. Look, if a guy can’t take the time out to make his presence special—or make you feel special—he doesn’t even deserve to be someone in your life.”

As if my head isn’t all fucked up and twisted already. Leave it to The Viper to twist it some more. 

“Look—it was really nice talking to you ladies. So nice to meet you.” He starts his stride in the opposite direction after embracing us both. “Make sure you tag me, if you post that!” He yells back.

“I hope you’re not letting what he said get to your head.” I turn to find Demi already looking. We walk leisurely to the backdoors leading to the outside. “He doesn’t even know the full story. And so what if it's not ideal or traditional? Life didn’t come with a fucking handbook.”

“I think it did though,” I interject. Her eyebrows pinch as we both push through the double doors. The night air of April hitting us. A whole different atmosphere from inside. “The Bible?”

“Girl—you know what I mean.” She links her around mine as our heels click simultaneously on the pavement. The occasional honking and sirens in the near-distance. Philly is not so far removed from New York. “We’re only twenty-two. I don’t know about you, but nothing in life is that serious to me right now. School is almost over. And that’s the most serious thing about me.

“Special?” She continues. “I mean—what even is special anyway? Pfft.” I know exactly what she’s doing and I am appreciative, but my head has always been louder than anyone’s opinions of comfort. The problem is, he is special to me—but I fear that feeling is not mutual. This is not a two way street ordeal. 

Tabling the conversation altogether, I switch gears. “You wanna go to South Street, again? Bar hop? I got two hours—give or take.”

I hear the sound of the doors we just came out of slam behind us. 

“I'm sorry, Lana. But he really, really wants you back in the trailer.” 

Blowing air from my mouth, I do a complete one-eighty on my heels. “He's not even in there. He's gonna take at least another two hours for press.” 

I already know how this works. He leaves me in that hotel room for hours, working, before he has a chance to get to me. This is no different. If anything, it’ll be worse because it’s a PPV.

Her hand goes up and down as she offers me nothing. It's then I notice the large man in all black beside her. “Can I at least walk my friend back to the car? I wanna know she's safe.” 

“Lana, we have security escorts for that,” she explains in that rushing hue. It does nothing to soothe my irritation of constantly being pulled like a puppet on a string. Special, alright.

“It's fine," Demi grabs my elbow, soaking up the last bit of bite-back I have for Miss Bossy. “It's fine. I'll be fine.”

“You're sure? I can come with y’all.”

“No. Believe me, if a motherfucker try anything, Bron Breaker over here will get the job done better than we can.” She motions to who I assume is supposed to be her escort back to the truck so she can go back to the hotel. “We had our fun already. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

No phone, no human interaction, and only reruns of Family Guy on the flat screen, and something close to two hours passes me by. Just when I begin to dose off, the sound of the bus door closing has me alert. I sit up wiping my eyes with my palms.

He comes busting through the curtain. Moving about in the space as if he’s the only one in here. Not sparing me a single glance. No greeting. Forget a kiss. I wasn’t expecting the sitcom, “honey, I’m home.” But damn. It’s like I’ve been warped into a year before when I met him for the first time. 

He goes through the motions of his routine. The black band discarded into the nightstand drawer. He checks his phone—scrolling for only a few seconds before settling it face down. His shoes come off. 

I cross my arms, over it all already. Wishing I would’ve just left with Demi. “Is this all we’re gonna do? Cause I can leave now, then.”

He has his days where’s he’s in this funk—sad or angry about something I know nothing about— and we just sit in silence mostly. Or we’ll have sex, but it’s disconnected. Sterile. Robotic almost. Like that’s the only purpose I serve. Like I'm not even a person. There’s no eye contact. No words being exchanged. Barely the inaudible “fuck,” or "shit,” from his lips. It’ll prompt me to muster up all the strength I have to not make a sound. Make myself as small as possible. Let him do his thing. And if I'm lucky he’ll find his way behind me with one heavy arm draped across my hip.

In the beginning, none of that would bother me. I’d just be lucky to even be in his presence. But I would think that we’re miles away from that. That hasn't happened in a while, but I guess we're overdue for one of those nights. I don't understand what the fuck the problem is. He won the match. I'm here and I've been in here like he asked—no, demanded of me. I don’t understand what the need for me to be here is, if he won’t even acknowledge me. It’s pathetic—on both of our parts. 

“Take your clothes off.”

“What?” I ask shakily. His words like blows to my stomach. He finally feels the need to grace me with eye contact. I begin to shake my head in protest. 

“No—that’s all you wanna do? Take your clothes off, then.” He’s never looked more like the man from TV than he does in this moment. Calculated, mean as hell, and irritable. It’s unsettling. I don’t know that version of him. It rattles me. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” I try my best to keep my voice steady. If I wasn’t staring I would’ve missed the slight eye roll as he turns his back to me. 

I leave him to do whatever, while fighting the urge to set these tears free. Redirecting my gaze to my hands after he removes his hoodie, revealing a black tee. I play myself every time I get too comfortable in this. Fucking stupid. 

The fierce sound of his hiss has my head snapping in his direction. I catch him in the middle of pulling the shirt off his body with one arm. The scene is horrid. It’s not even the bruises— large, shapeless, globs of green and purple—that force me to stand. It's the rashes. The oh so familiar rashes. Patches of them decorating his strong back.

My eyes sting immediately at the sight, already knowing what causes rashes like that. I try to regulate the scale of my emotions—rewinding back to all the times I had to help my mom put cream on my dad from the breakouts caused by the chemo. He was always too weak to do it himself. Always in pain. My brother couldn’t help—he was off to school during the worst of it. 

“Are you okay?” My voice just barely there.

He doesn’t answer. He throws the black shirt across the way and it lands on the corner loveseat. I close the space between us—in more ways than one. His broad shoulders sag, releasing a deep breath. Defeated.

I grab the familiar jar from next to him on the dresser chest, opening it to perform in muscle memory the lightest strokes to the red breakouts on his back. He’s stiff as a board. I press down and make circles until the tacky consistency dissolves into his bronze skin. Not too hard—not too soft. My mother’s instruction rings loud in my head as if she’s standing over me like she used to.  

A big breath leaves him as he relaxes, finally. Shoulders not as square with his head hanging. The fight to steady my hands trembling like my bottom lip is persistent. Remembering the shame on my father’s face, as if having cancer was his fault. As if dying was something he orchestrated.

His big hand is warm and firm as he reaches to stop me. Pulling until I’m in front of him now. His broad shadow cascading over me. 

I’m not sure about that four letter word, but I do know that I care deeply for this man. He is special to me. Beyond any gift or earth shattering pleasure gifted in between sheets. No—it’s way deeper than that. I recognize his pain—his fears. I’ve seen them before. Maybe in another life, I always tell myself. Or maybe our time had already came and went before. Maybe before this instance, we knew each other in a past life and got all the opportunities we lack now.

There was no wife. No kids. No cancer. No age gap. No need to hide. Things made sense. Our only concern was each other. Maybe our bodies just recognize each other and that pull I always feel is just my old self pointing me in his direction.

“Can you look at me please?” He pleads. The unfamiliar monster from before disappearing— and the gentle Joe back in his place. Hurt still painted on my face, I meet him. “I’m sorry.”

Unable to even speak—not knowing what to say—I just nod. The sincerity in his big brown eyes swallowing me whole. 

I don’t even notice he’s leaning until his soft lips are on me. On my lips then to my chin. And just like that, all armor is relieved from me—and him too apparently. If my dad knew I allowed a man to talk to me the way he just had, he’d have nothing but disgust written all over his face. And for the first time ever, I feel like this is a mistake. Not just tonight, but all of it. 

It was all meant to be lighthearted. Fun and adventurous. Matters of the heart and greedy emotions weren’t supposed to play the front—ever. 

I don’t move as he finds his way to my jawline, nudging my head to the side with his to find my neck. He yearns for all to be forgiven and forgotten. That much is obvious. And I detest myself for being so weak. So pliable.

The heat from him transfers right to me. My insides igniting like a furnace. He knows exactly how to dissolve me and I hate—and love it all the same. Every kiss after another—a silent plea—another sorry. Turning it up a notch, I feel the roughness of his hands on my ass. Kneading the flesh like a skilled baker, earning a moan from me. 

Ass up and face buried in the comforter, is how I end up. He fucks me the same way he performed tonight in the ring. Wild, dominant, and taking every opportunity to gain the upper hand. It’s passionate, but not in the traditional way. 

“Ohh—fuck, baby!” I teeter the edge of pleasure and pain, tears sitting at the corners of my eyes. Blurring my already obscuring vision. 

His hand is firm on my neck in a vice grip. The other resting on the curve of my back, controlling my arch. Every hit, a louder smacking in the space, feeling better than the one that comes before it. Drilling my hole like he owes it something. I end up just sliding and lying flat. It’s too much. His pace doesn’t falter. A heavy hand comes down on my ass as punishment. 

“Stop running from me,” he grunts.

He attacks my ear with licks and bites and I melt like ice cream in the summer. Slowing his pace so I can feeling everything. Every vein, the slightest curve—all of it. “I thought about you all day,” he whispers. “Look at me.” I barely turn my head and he’s right there. Fine lines garnishing his flat nose as his lip curls into a slight snarl. “So fucking beautiful.” His tongue comes out and I take it. Snatching away when he switches gears from slow and deep to slow and hard. Slamming into me with the aggression of a dozen street fighters.

The kisses and licks are a thing of the past. Bites—deliberate and firm—take their place. He’s all over me. He’s everywhere. His animalistic grunts countering my helpless whines. 

“It’s too good, Lana. I can’t stop,” he warns. And I already know what’s coming. Too blinded by lust and all the angst from earlier, I don’t even protest. 

I must be losing my mind. The events of this weekend tainting my judgement—because the next words to leave my mouth can’t be mine.

“C-cum in me. I wanna feel it, daddy.”

“Yeah?” He questions breathless. I nod eagerly. 

Slanted eyes glued to one another, he goes even harder. Meeting his peak. Mouth falling open. Swollen inside of me before he breaks free. 

“Arghhh!” We moan in unison, notches of energy trickling down. Milking him. Feeling every last drop. I’m in a daze. His nose brushing and sliding against the side of my face, centering me. 

“Mmm,” he hums. Pulling all the way out. I turn on my back, defeated, just to find him stroking himself back to life. 

God, help me. 

His fingers making a trail up and down my bare back has me fighting sleep like a newborn baby full on milk and burped already. I can hear his heartbeat. It’s strong and steady—just like him. 

“Are you okay?” I finally ask. 

His fingers stop, but he doesn’t answer. Resting my chin on his peck, I find his eyes in the dark. “Don’t worry about me,” is his only response.

I’m sure that weary spirit has been passed down from my mother. Lord knows, she’ll worry about the sun coming up—despite her seeing it every morning of her life. The older I get, the more I start to mimic those same habits. I worry about school and my future. I worry about my friends—Demi and Anthony—and if they’re genuinely happy with life or just going through the motions and putting on a front for me. I worry about my brother and if he’ll ever find his niche in life. My dad—praying every other night that his cell count stays at bay. And now—I worry about him. What he’s doing when he’s not with me. If he ever thinks about cutting the cord on this unstable arrangement. If he’s healthy. If all the man hours put into this job is too much for him. All day long, seven days a week, the unknown takes precedence over what I can see with my own eyes. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I whisper. How delusional am I for noticing this is something like our one year anniversary. All the shit that’s happened in between now and then. I wonder if his scope of us even goes that wide. Instead of ruining the night, I rest my ear back flat on his chest. But his next question has me popping back up.

“Will you stay?”

He’s always so hard to read. Impenetrable at times. Tonight is no different. But I can feel something. Something in him is different. The way he asked if I would stay. If I didn’t know any better I would think he needed me here in place of want.

“I can’t,” I deny in a low tone. It’s then the question of where his family was today emerges like a horizon in my mind. Certainly he didn’t have us both here? He would’ve ended the night with her instead. Right?

A strong hand sliding up the back of my neck, holding firm to cup my head grabs my attention. “Please—stay? For me?”

Our faces just inches from connection—sanctions a real war to stand on business. My responsibilities outweigh anything going on here—but damn. Damn. If I knew I’d be straight with school in spite of missing my last two midterms, best believe, I’d stay right here. Right in this bed. Until it was time to see him win again tomorrow night. 

I breathe in from my nose. A smile on my face, even though he’s hard as steel. “I can’t,” I repeat. “Believe me, if I could I would.”

It seems like forever when his eyes bounce around my face before nodding in acceptance. “I’ll be watching from home. I swear.” I reassure him, even though I’m sure he’ll throw it in the trash. My stream tomorrow is probably the last thing on his mind when he steps out and into the openness of the arena. Thousands of people screaming his name and going ballistic. That means much more to him. That’s his special. 

I lay my head back to its original spot. Listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat, paired with his breathing, until it grows to light snores. Wishing we could stay like this forever. 

Birds of a feather. Oh, how I wish we could stick together. 

A/N // this was not supposed to be this long and it was supposed to been up. life got in the way. smh anyway...

all i have to say is Joe...idc how old you are or what you've done. you could've marched with MLK... who the fuck is you talking to like that???

as always, if you read it or even a portion of it, i am forever grateful💗 feedback is welcomed.

next round of shorts before pt 4 Desires is listed on the masterlist. i have no idea when any of them will be up. i've already started all of them and they're at different stages; however, May and June will be very busy for me. i'll keep y'all updated as much as possible.

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[dollarbils]

but baby, i | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your ex girlfriend, billie, can’t resist calling you a week after you’d broken up.

warnings. angst, fluff, suggestive

masterlist

‘if you go, i’m going too’

a sigh of relief was heard on the other end of the phone when you’d pressed the green button, spilling out a hesitant ‘hello’ as you held the phone up to your ear. There was no response however, lighting up a flame of irritation in you.

“Who is this?” was the next thing that fell from your lips, laced with hostility.

“baby,” it was quiet, soft and inviting. Emotions from the previous couple months all encompassed into the term of endearment.

“billie?” your voice softened at the realisation of who it was.

“deleted my number already have you?” she teased, but it didn’t make you smile, not in this moment.

“billie, what happened? are you okay?” the questions tumbled out in an attempt to comprehend the reason for her call. it had been a week since you’d broken up, and hearing her voice felt like you’d been taken back to last Friday.

“yeah no, nothing happened, i’m fine. i just..” she trailed off, gathering the courage to speak, or the bravery to do the right thing, and hang up. but she was weak, and so were you.

“yeah?” it was a plea for her to continue. a beg for her to speak the words you couldn’t.

“i miss you baby.” your eyes drifted shut, a flush rising to your cheeks.

“billie, this isn’t a good idea.” it was the truth neither of you wanted to hear.

“i don’t care.” she whined, desperation clear in her words.

“billie don’t say that.” she let out a sigh of frustration at your words.

“i know you missed me too, this week has been the shittiest week you could imagine.” and suddenly you found yourself drifting into your usual conversation, like you would’ve a week ago.

“i’m sorry bils, how can i help?” it was a stupid question and you’d realised soon enough. all of this would eventually lead you back to her.

“you know how.” it was a confession in itself, revealing what she hoped to get from this call.

“tell me. whatever you need, i’ll do it.” you couldn’t reject her, not now, not ever. she had been everything for you, and she still was.

“come over, please.” her request was simple but it meant so much.

“are you sure?” her answer would decide your future, because it was clear what would happen if you complied with her wish.

“i need you.” those three words were deadly, they represented so many things all at once. they could be interpreted as multiple meanings.

“fuck,” it was a sigh of submission, giving in to her. and everything you’d previously given up. “i’ll be there in ten.”

‘cause it was always you’

the silence that followed the knock on her door, was deafening. leaving too much space for you to fall into the pit of doubt, that was still very much prominent. when the door finally opened, she stood in front of you, her perfect eyes attaching themselves to yours. then she smiled, engulfing you in a gentle hug, holding you as if you might break.

“billie.” it pulled her out of her state of daydreaming, grounding her with the realisation that this didn’t mean the beginning of a new chapter.

“i’m so sorry.” the apology was long overdue, but when she closed the door behind you, inviting you back in, none of that mattered.

“i know, but i need your promise, that we’ll be okay this time. i can’t go through breaking up with you again. i won’t survive it this time.” your throat closed up, signalling you to stop talking before your feelings spill out of your eyes, in front of her.

“of course angel, i understand. i’ll give you whatever you need.” she held your face in her hands, confirming her words at the slight rub of her thumb, over your cheeks.

“i need your devotion, your love.”

“but baby, i..” she paused for a second, pondering on wether her next words were ones she’d later regret. but she soon brushed the doubt away, releasing herself from its constraints, confessing her truth. “i’ll love you ‘til the day that i die.”

when she brought her lips to yours they were warm, inviting. they connected and moulded together as your bodies inched closer.

‘and if i’m turning blue, please don’t save me’

the heat from her breath, warming the patches of skin tainted by her tongue, as she ran it across your naked body. her lips attached to yours nipples, and then your clit. devoting herself to your pleasure. expressing her love for your body.

‘nothing left to lose, without my baby.’

and when your mind lost itself in her affection, focusing on her tongue buried deep inside you hole, you felt connected. birds of a feather destined to reach for each other in times of difficulty. destined to end up in each others’ embrace in times of despair.

‘we should stick together.’

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Hello hello! i have been working with a super cool writer, @ohboyhowdybuckaroo, on an ASL God AU fic for the past several months and the first chapter is finally out! Give it a read if youre interested in wacky shenanigans, and tasteful mysteries~

Here's some of the art i made for it. The designs for the characters and some moments of the fic :)

i hope you guys enjoy!!!

[animal-feather]

coffee by chappell roan as a short text fic

read on ao3

[katsdynam1ght]

is it time to tell you guys abt my dabihawks kids yet. is it time. can it be time.

[mushroom-the-trauma]

I think it's my second fully rendered work at all. Wow...

Frayed Feathers Au what are you doing to me? ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

Someday I will learn proper tagging etiquette or smt but now...

@fictionforlifenz (sorry I'm overtagging you, but in my defense I didn't know I would finish this)

@please-be-nice-im-sensitive @thereareotherwaysofpersuasion @ruthlessness69 (you're the people whose opinions I value, so I want to share this progress with you! And actually tell me if you want be tagged like that)

[hitmeharderandsofter]

fuck the grammy's

i know i should be like posting a fic or something but watching billie get absolutely ROBBED at the grammy's was devastating..

hmhas was genuinely THE album of 2024 and seeing NOT A SINGULAR grammy go to hmhas or boaf genuinely shows how unfair the voting system is..

tell me i'm wrong but hmhas deserved aoty/roty and boaf should've won soty..

(DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE CAMERA PANNING TOWARDS HER CRYING AT THE END.)

okay bye sillies i promise i'll be out with something soon

[sstarrsrahhh]

Heh…

FINISHED ITTT!!!!! Yippeee

Credits for fic: @fictionforlifenz

Love ur fic ‼️‼️ (I lost count of how much I reread it 🥲)