#meltdown is so iconic

[lolenzorro]

Jump into the core

[disposal-blueeee]

( stereotypical mexican music starts playing

[afditlodap]

i do truly forget just how much i love louise and ought to keep up with her more. just watched her blog of filming on dystopia daily and it was so cute so much casual phil mwah

[criticalrolo]

remus had a wisdom score of SEVEN I fukcing forgot..... god no wonder he ranks up there as one of the Most Claire Characters of All Time

[enby-mori]

I think dick should be the only one of the kids to NOT be surprised by a younger alfred.

[weepingalaxy]

im blocking everyone that doesnt have a custom profile. i cant handle this

[ghostfacd]

IN A WORLD FULL OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! | TOM BLYTH

PAIRING. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

SUMMARY. despite being in a world filled of childish boys, your boyfriend was definitely a gentleman, always putting you before him

AUTHORS NOTE. the third installment because we love tom blyth and yn avocot. I recommend reading part 1 and 2 for more context!

tomblyth “babe, do you think we’re together in every universe?” is that even a question?

tagged @/ynuser

view all comments

ynuser stoppp i didn’t know youd actually take the question seriously

user1 get you a man like tom blyth bc oh my god

user2 idk what yn did to manifest him but i need her ways

user3 ugh idk what he’s doing with her lol he could do so much better

➥ user4 well someone had to say it..

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You didn’t understand how some people on the internet can be so . . . mean. Although there have been countless of fans cheering you and Tom on, it didn’t make it any less hurtful that there were still a ton who weren’t scared to be open about how much your boyfriend could do better.

It’s ironic; you think. They’re claiming they’re looking out for Tom, yet totally disregarding him and his girlfriend as human beings? Those weren’t real fans.

The reason for them hating you so much? Just for simply being with Tom. Everybody wanted him, that was your crime.

Everytime you got lost in your thoughts about this topic, Tom knew. Boyfriend instincts, he called them, but really, he was just a caring and observant person.

You tried not to break down over it, you really did, but a girl could only go on for so long before it all bursts out. Luckily, Tom pulls you right in, telling you to let it all out.

Although the world was filled with childish and hurtful beings, Tom Blyth was still who he was, a gentleman, attending to your every needs.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

tomblyth really dgaf if you like my girlfriend or not cause i do and that’s all that matters

view all comments

user5 im cryinf the polaroid he has of her

user6 YES REAL MEN STAND UP FOR THEIR GFS

user7 ALL THE PICS HE HAS OF HER ���🥹

tomblythswife oh to be yn avocot and be loved by tom blyth

rachelzegler tell ‘em 🙊

user8 she doesn’t even comment on the posts he makes abt her, so self centered lol

➥ ynuser I’m right next to him rn?? cant say the same thing about you “lol”

➥ user9 OH SHE ATE YOU UP @/user8

tomblyth_daily here are some clips of tom talking about his relationship in his new interview! GET YOU A MAN THATS LIKE TOM BLYTH 🗣️🗣️🗣️

view all comments

user10 the way he’s so passionate when talking about her and being a good boyfriend, God I hate being single

user11 “they’re not even that cute” STFU AND GO WATCH THIS INTERVIEW CAUSE ??

user12 tom blyth said put aside your nonchalant attitudes, im looking at YOU MEN 🫵🫵

ilovetomblyth he’s so boyfriend it actually hurts

user13 yn must’ve saved a continent in her past life to be dating tom blyth omg

ynuser girls, before you have a meltdown over a boy: think of what balleona laurent would do. kiss and manipulate coriolanus!

view all comments

tomblyth you kiss and manipulate me too

➥ ynuser you’re gonna get me CANCELLED

user14 literal unbothered icon i love her

user15 if i were her id post a tiktok with that audio “he chose me he don’t want you”

iloveyn SHES SO FUNNY

lionsgate us when behind the scenes photo of balleona 😻

➥ user16 lmao stop who’s the admin of lionsgate

user17 balleona is such a bad person but oh is she hot

tomblyth she was like a shot of espresso

tagged @/ynuser

view all comments

ynuser i love u more than words can describe blyth

user18 ok who’s cutting onions

user19 GIRLS, GUYS, THEY THEMS, STOP SETTLING FOR BARE MINIMUM WHEN TOM BLYTH LITERALLY CALLED HIS GF A SHOT OF ESPRESSO, GIVES HER FLOWERS EVERYDAY, AND TALKS ABT HER ALL THE TIME IN HIS INTERVIEWS

➥ user20 YELL IT HARDER SISTER 👐👐👐

user21 this is so dark academica im inlove with u guys

user22 parentssss

rachelzegler my favorites

ynuser SNOW LANDS ON TOP LOSERS

view all comments

tomblyth yn, i love you but

➥ user23 LMFAOO when he doesn’t finish his sentence

user24 the second pic thank u yn

joshandresrivera on top of u maybe

➥ user25 IM DYING OML

user26 thank you to lionsgate for casting the most hottest villain couple ever

[dyellogin]

Eltingville Club, but... Gen Z

A dumb idea I laugh at, so I draw it out. It's not big on being a "fan" like OG E.C., just annoying internet extremely online users I've encountered as a Gen Z who has been on the internet for more than a decade.

BILL DICKEY

Username : @discardedmrtyr // Bill

Favorite shit : (anime harem), politics, reading, doing reviews, internet drama, leaked content (porn, mostly), shooter games, pepe reaction images.

Occupation : Substitute teacher while in college

Blackpilled anime enthusiast and notorious troll, Bill spends his days spreading hate online while using pepe reaction images because he’s upset how soyjacks are tainted with normies. He’s a vocal critic of all things progressive. He frequently targets minorities, celebrities, and content creators. Bill finds joy in provoking outrage. He’s loves shooter games. He's a Belle Delphine supporter on Onlyfans even when she hasn't uploaded anything. At work as a substitute teacher, Bill abuses his position to indoctrinate impressionable high school students. Off work and college, he gets very active on forums like Lolcow and Kiwifarm. He actively feeds drama with his leaked/stalking finds. In his spare spare time, Bill enjoys reading fanfics and making movies and books reviews that he keeps to himself.

JOSH LEVY

Username : @IHrtSeal // @SealLover123 // Seally // J-Chan

Favorite shit : seals, art, fan content, lost media, roleplay, Harry Potter, Steven Universe, Homestuck.

Occupation : NEET

Autistic Deviantart kid, Josh is similar to Chris Chan, where he has a tendency to fall into rage baits. Josh spends a significant amount of time online since his early childhood. He’s active on Deviantart, Twitter, Tumblr, Discord, etc. Josh customizes his profiles that fit into his aesthetic. His texts are roleplay-like, dramatic, with excessive emojis+emoticons like ♥️♥️♥️(>_<!!!). Josh has a strong interest in fan-content, mainly fanart, often commissions fetish arts from various artists, he commissioned Shadman once. Josh is also prone to harassing others over OOC and selfships. He treats the internet like a safe place diary where he publicize his suicidal ideations and meltdowns. He shows unwarranted sexual behaviors towards strangers online. He is a fan-writer. He writes a lot for character wiki pages and has proship tags in his AO3 works.

PETE DINUNZIO

Username : @VmP175 // @vAMPiro // Ambrose // Leech

Favorite shit : analogue horror, gamemaker games, obscure horror games, illegal/banned medias, true crime reality

Occupation : Cashier and weed dealer

Degenerate loser, Pete accesses the dark web and those Telegram groups daily. He mainly seeks porn of anorexic girls or girls with self-harm scars (prefers it fresh). Self-proclaimed sex icon, Pete would larp as big bad hot alpha men, thirst post on TikTok, showing his muscular body while wearing classic hot men horror masks. He only replies to mentally ill girls.

Dirt poor, with a shitty laptop that can only play roblox and low-quality gamemaker games (always pirates it). Pete is a skilled coder, and he attempts to create games independently. Very huge relation, very socially active. Doxx people online. He uses a lot of AAVE (the white kid with the baggy clothes who's talking like he’s black). Pete has parasocial relationships with content creators. He will defend his favorite creators even after they’re outed as a horrible person. Groomed by a creator he looks up to when he was a kid but feigning ignorance. He does a lot of edgy jokes.

JERRY STOKES

Username : @lv8ryu // リュウ // ryuuuu!

Website : Voidspeech.net // anon

Favorite shit : art, music, memes, brainrot content, cute girls, cute things

Occupation : University student

Leads a double life, Jerry going through University as a rich nepo baby while maintaining his sona online. Jerry fakes an Asian identity. He pretends to be Japanese, using Google Translate. Jerry has an art account with a decent following, where he focuses on his passion, keeping things vanilla and drama-free. He hates seeing reposts of free palestine, blm, etc. Jerry shares his art on Twitter and Newground, usually just girls or softcore porn. Jerry runs a website called Voidspeech, where he posts NSFW political edgy weekly webcomic (and remains anonymous). Pete finds out Jerry is behind the website and manages to get in contact with him. Jerry would send memes and brainrot content in the group chat. He rarely ever talks on group voice calls. Instead, he uses his customized soundboards to show reactions or just quote one of his brainrot content. Jerry would make shitty music he laughs at and forces his friends (especially Pete) to listen via Discord voice call. would say “I get lesbians!”

Bonus (concept design)

I didn't really like Pete's design, so I redesigned his outfit.

[valeisaslut]

⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. two

credits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐖𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄.

← 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 →

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

⭒ synopsis: One TMZ headline later, and the internet is in a full-blown meltdown. You should’ve known that sneaking out of Ellie Williams’ hotel at sunrise was a disaster waiting to happen. Now the whole world thinks you and Ellie are dating, and there’s only one way out—lean into the chaos. A fake relationship was never part of the plan, but if anyone can pull it of, it’s the two of you… right? 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 6,8k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content: unserious and chaotic as HELL lmao, fake dating, mostly dialogue, memes and brainrot stuff, LOTS of cursing, pet names, fluff if you squint, use of y/n, modern au, smoking weed, mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, afab!reader, multiple part series, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

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

Los Angeles, CA – Buckle up, internet, because today’s tea is so hot it might spontaneously combust. Early this morning, global pop sensation y/n was spotted making a very interesting exit from The Four Seasons—an exit that screamed, “I made some choices, and I’ll be dealing with the consequences (happily) later.”

Let’s paint the picture: baggy jeans (very much not hers), an oversized tee (suspiciously familiar), last-night heels, and, most importantly, the kind of walk that suggests she just lived through an... experience.🔥

VIDEO ATTACHED: y/n stepping out of The Four Seasons with the posture of someone who just discovered new life-altering truths about herself.

And now, the cherry on top? The hotel in question just happens to be the same one where rock’s reigning heartbreaker and The Fireflies' frontwoman, Ellie Williams, has been staying during the band's sold-out tour.

Yeah. Let THAT sink in.

THE NIGHT BEFORE: PURE CHAOS

Last night, the musicians were first spotted together at a private club in West Hollywood, and the energy? Dangerous. We’re talking intense eye contact, whispered words, and a proximity that had no business being that close. 👀

Sources inside the club (who, let’s be real, were probably staring way too hard) claim the two were “all over each other the entire night.” And then, like clockwork—both gone. Together.😏

PICTURE ATTACHED: y/n and Ellie at the bar, drinks in hand, leaning in so close they might as well be sharing oxygen.

Fast-forward a few hours, and one of them is leaving a luxury hotel in borrowed clothes, while the other is nowhere to be seen. Hm...

THE INTERNET: INSTANTLY UNHINGED

It’s not every day that the two of the most famous artists on the planet accidentally break the internet with a single walk of shame. It took exactly 0.2 seconds for Twitter—sorry, X—to collectively lose its mind. #YNxEllie shot to the top of the trending list faster than lighting, and the reactions? Pure, unfiltered, internet gold.

Some fans are calling it the rock-pop crossover event of the decade. Others are in full denial, muttering “it’s just a one-time thing” like a prayer (lol, sure). And then there’s the fanfic writers, who are already on their second chapter about this very moment.

Meanwhile, our two leads? Radio. Silence.

No wry Instagram stories. No cryptic tweets. No emergency PR statements. Just Ellie, cool as ever, casually liking a meme about getting your clothes stolen from “the girl you spent all night ruining.” 😭🙃

SO, WHAT HAPPENS NOW?

We wait. Impatiently.

Is this just an iconic but questionable decision? Will y/n post a cryptic thirst trap in retaliation? Will Ellie respond with an even more cryptic Instagram story? Or are we witnessing the birth of music’s next power couple?

One thing’s for sure—this is a story we’ll be watching very closely.

Stay tuned. 😏🔥

What do YOU think? Drop your theories in the comments below! ⬇️🔥

────────────

❤️ 10M — 💬 287,54k

@: this isn’t just a hookup. this is the lesbians Super Bowl. 

@: tears in my eyes. full body worship. standing ovulation. whatever it’s called.

@: “mysterious walk of shame” NAH SHE CLOCKED IN, DID OVERTIME, AND LEFT WITH A RAISE 💀

@: not her texting the driver like “can’t feel my legs send help” 😭 icon.

@: someone check on the poor girl ellie this wasn’t a leave her paralyzed challenge

@: THE SECOND PIC. YALL. THEY LOOK SO GODDAMN FINE I’M CHEWING DRYWALL AND DRINKING THE DUST 😩

@: i need them to either hard launch or drop a sex tape at this point because my soul is restless

@: this is the most lesbian thing I’ve ever seen and I was THERE for korrasami and caitvi.

@: i just KNOW Ellie’s strap game goes absolutely feral and that walk was all the proof I needed #cravethat #scientificallyproven

@: pop mother got her back blown OUT

@: #elliehititrawandnowshestrending

@: they are either deeply in love or just HORRENDOUS at sneaky links. either way, I win.

@: tmz trynna act like we don’t instantly recognize Ellie’s entire wardrobe on her lmao

@: she defo picked those on purpose and you can't convince me otherwiseeee

@: the way we all clocked those clothes immediately like homegirl has worn that same fit 67 times this year and counting

@: Ellie dresses like a divorced dad at Home Depot but somehow y/n wearing her clothes is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen

@: one-night thing my ass. drop the collab album. drop the wedding invites. drop the baby name.

@: I have no idea what's going on but I support them!

The studio is cold. Too cold.

You lean against the massive soundboard, eyes heavy with exhaustion as the producer fine-tunes the levels on your latest track. The bass hums through the speakers, deep and rhythmic.

You got home, showered, and walked into the studio like nothing happened. Like you weren’t still replaying everything in your head—the heat of her hands, the weight of her body, the way she— Nope. Not going there.

The only thing keeping you upright is sheer force of will and the coffee clutched in your hands, now lukewarm but still packing enough caffeine to keep your legs from betraying you in front of the expensive equipment.

But something feels off.

Nobody is looking at you.

Nobody is saying anything.

The thing is, your team is never quiet. They talk about everything—schedules, brand deals, what the fuck you’re eating for lunch—but today? Nothing. Just silence.

Not a single offhand comment. No teasing about the all-nighter you clearly pulled. Not even a glance in your direction.

Your producer is laser-focused on the track, nodding along like it holds the meaning of life. Your sound editor keeps his eyes glued to the screen, like looking anywhere else might kill him. And your assistant—sweet, terrible liar that she is—won’t stop sneaking glances at her phone, then at you, then at her phone again, like she’s watching a train wreck in real time and trying to figure out when to break the news that you’re the train.

Slowly, you set your coffee down, reach for your own phone, and unlock it, already feeling the creeping dread claw up your spine.

The second your screen lights up, it’s over. Notifications flood in. X. Instagram. Texts. Group chats blowing up like a damn stock market crash. Millions of mentions. Your name trending in bold, blaring letters.

And then you see it.

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

You suck in a breath—a sharp, audible gasp that cuts through the eerie silence.

Your assistant makes a tiny, distressed sound. Your producer visibly flinches, finally daring to glance at you. Your sound editor—wise, blessedly silent—just pauses the track.

Your fingers move faster than your brain, scrolling in blind panic. Pictures. Too many fucking pictures.

The first one is a grainy, low-lit shot of you and Ellie at the bar—bodies too close, drinks in hand, faces inches apart. The kind of tension that crackles even through a shitty phone camera. The next? A ruthless side-by-side comparison of Ellie’s Instagram post from last week. Same shirt. Same jeans. The exact ones you walked out wearing.

And then—because the universe is a cruel, twisted place—the final nail in the coffin.

A video.

Of you.

Sneaking out of her hotel.

You hit play, and instantly regret every life choice that led you there. Because why the fuck were you walking like that?!

Not just suspicious. Not just guilty. But the kind of unsteady, post-life-changing-experience walk that has the entire internet foaming at the mouth, legs barely cooperating like you just left the scene of a particularly intense crime.

Your soul exits your body, ascends to the ceiling, and refuses to come back down.

Your phone starts ringing. And you already know who it is. For a brief, fleeting moment, you consider launching the damn thing across the room.

Because of course it’s Rachel.

Your manager and professional-life mastermind. The woman who negotiates your million-dollar deals before breakfast. And, apparently, the bane of your existence right now.

You push through the studio doors without explaining a damn thing, the cool air outside hitting your face like a slap. Your head is pounding, fingers digging into your temples like you can physically massage the embarrassment out of your skull.

Your phone still vibrates in your hand. You don’t even have time to brace yourself before answering. The second you do, her voice explodes through the speaker.

“OH. MY. GOD.”

You flinch, yanking the phone away from your ear like it might physically protect you. It doesn’t. She’s still yelling, still fully spiraling, and honestly? She has every right to. Because you’re trending. Hard.

And not for your music.

“Before you say anything—”

“ARE YOU SEEING THIS? My phone has been BLOWING UP since 6 AM. Do you understand what you’ve done?!”

You sigh, shifting uncomfortably. Here we fucking go.

“Rachel, I’m so fucking sorry, I never meant for that to happen I didn’t know there were paparazzi outside the hotel! I—”

“THIS IS PERFECT.”

“—know I fucked up”

You pause mid-spiral. Blink. “...Wait, what?”

“You heard me! This is GOLD. This is EVERYTHING. Your fans are losing their minds, the internet is eating this up, and you know what that means?”

“…That I need to delete my existence?”

“That this is going to take both of your careers to the next level.”

Your head is spinning. “Whoa—slow down. The fuck you mean?”

Rachel lets out an exaggerated sigh, like she’s explaining shapes to a toddler. “You need to be interesting. She needs damage control. You both need the press for the upcoming albums. This relationship is everything you need.”

“Relationship?” You nearly choke. “Rachel, we just hooked up. It was a one-time thing, nothing else.”

“Oh... just a one-time thing?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.”

She says it so casually you instantly know she’s about to ruin your life.

“Then fake it.”

“WHAT?”

Your soul leaves your body. Again.

“A fake relationship!” She repeats, like it’s the most normal suggestion in the world.

“Oh my god. No. NO. That’s—that’s fucking stupid!"

“Oh, come on, girl.” Rachel groans. “You would be shocked to know how many celebrity couples are fake. Like, 90% of them, and people still eat that shit up like it’s their job. It’s the most effective PR stunt in the history of PR stunts.”

“I don't care! Even if it’s fake, I don’t wanna be in a relationship with her!”

Rachel, clearly unimpressed “Be so fucking for real right now.”

“Listen” she continues, slipping into full Hollywood mastermind mode. “It’s the perfect rockstar-popstar trope that people are gonna LOVE. Some staged dates, some Instagram stories, show up to a few award shows together, write some songs about her for the album—blah, blah, blah. Then, when you both get what you want, you drop a statement about breaking up on good terms because of ‘busy schedules’ or ‘long distance’ or whatever. Boom. Done. Headlines. History.”

You exhale sharply, dragging a hand down your face, but you can already feel her words getting to you.

“Okay…that does sound kinda iconic...”

You hear her scream.

“BUT” You snap. “I seriously doubt she’s gonna be on board.”

“She has to be. That girl needs to clean up her image immediately. If she wants to keep her career afloat, she needs to say yes." Rachel doesn’t miss a beat. "Honestly, it even benefits her more than it benefits you.”

You press the phone tighter against your ear, your free hand rubbing over your face over and over again as if that’ll somehow erase this chaos unfolding in real-time.

But honestly?

What could go wrong?

So you exhale sharply again.

“Fine, fine. We’ll… debate it.”

“PERFECT! Tell me how it goes!”

There’s a short pause, just long enough for you to think—maybe—this conversation is about to take a serious turn.

And then—

“…So, how was she in bed?”

You nearly drop your phone. “RACHEL.”

“What?! It’s a valid question! I mean, I saw the walk.” A beat. Then, way too smugly “People are even making edits of your limp.”

Okay.

This is officially the worst day of your life.

“We are NOT doing this.”

“Oh, we are ABSOLUTELY doing this.”

You groan, squeezing your eyes shut. There's no escaping this.

“Was it life-changing or life-threatening? Did she break your back or fix your scoliosis?” 

You stare up at the sky, silently begging for divine intervention. None comes. So, with the weight of someone who has lost everything, you exhale.

“…she made me see fucking Jesus.”

Silence. A beat.

Rachel screams so loud you nearly throw your phone at the window.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT.”

“HANGING UP NOW.”

“NO WAIT!—DID SHE—”

“BYE.”

You slam the End Call button so fast it’s a miracle your screen doesn’t crack.

Blissful, beautiful silence.

For exactly three seconds.

Buzz.

Rachel: COME BACK WE ARE NOT DONE.

Buzz.

Rachel: do I schedule a chiropractor or a priest? 😭

You turn your phone off. Permanently.

It was late, the kind of night where the city hummed low in the background, neon signs bleeding color into the streets.

And Ellie Williams was trying to have a normal band practice.

Trying.

But it was pretty fucking hard when Jesse and Dina were staring at her like she’d just announced she was quitting music to become a full-time televangelist.

She adjusted the strap of her guitar, already irritated. “Can you guys, I don’t know, say something instead of fucking looking at me like that?”

“Oh, we’re just waiting...” Jesse said as he leaned against the drum set, taking a slow drag of his cigarette and grinning like the absolute menace he was.

Dina, perched on an amp, smirked. “Yeah. Just giving you a chance to come clean before we bring out the receipts.”

Ellie scoffed, trying to play it cool. “What receipts?”

Dina wiggled her phone in the air, smirk widening. “Seems like you’ve been very busy, rockstar.”

She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “The fuck are you both talking about!?”

Jesse and Dina exchanged the look. The kind that made Ellie’s patience thin by the second.

Jesse sighed dramatically, putting out his cigarette on the plato like he was about to drop the biggest bombshell of the century. “Alright, since you’re playing dumb—”

He pulled out his phone with the enthusiasm of a man whose sole purpose in life was witnessing Ellie’s downfall. 

“Lemme just read the best part real quick—” And clearing his throat like he was about to give a Shakespearean performance:

“‘Global superstar y/n was spotted leaving Ellie Williams’s hotel early this morning after a rumored all-night rendezvous. Fans immediately noticed the pop star's unusually relaxed wardrobe choice—’”

Dina whistled. “‘—baggy jeans and an oversized tee, both belonging to a certain someone who was seen wearing them just last week—’”

Jesse shook his head, flipping his phone around. “Nah, this is crazy. This is some Oscar-worthy shit.”

Ellie groaned the second she saw the TMZ photo—you stepping out of the hotel in her clothes. And then there was her, leaving an hour later, hoodie up like it could shield her from literally everyone, rubbing the back of her neck like some dumbass who just realized they fucked up in a romcom.

She looked guilty as hell.

He zoomed in on her face, laughing. “Yo, you look like you just realized you caught feelings.”

Dina snorted, scrolling through her phone. “Oh, they are EATING this shit up. Listen to this” —dramatic inhale— “‘They are either deeply in love or just horrendous at sneaky links. Either way, I win.’”

Jesse howled. “‘Someone check on the poor girl—Ellie, this wasn’t a ‘leave her paralyzed’ challenge.’”

Ellie groaned. “You guys—”

“OH MY GOD.” Dina gasped. “SOMEONE JUST MADE A SIDE-BY-SIDE.”

Jesse leaned in. “Caption?”

“‘WHAT IN THE SCISSOR OLYMPICS. GOLD MEDAL PERFORMANCE.”

He collapsed against the drum set, howling even harder. “Nah, this is crazy. You really let her walk outta there like that?! You KNEW what you did. You knew EXACTLY what you were doing.”

Ellie covered her face with her hands. “I hate it here.”

Jesse was thriving, nearly bouncing on his feet like a kid on Christmas morning. “Dude. You bagged y/n. Like, THE Y/N. Pop princess herself. That fine-ass woman writes songs so good they make people crash their cars.”

Dina nodded solemnly. “I crashed twice to ‘Stay.’”

Ellie shot her a look. “First of all, you shouldn’t have a license.” Then at Jesse “Second, can you fucking NOT? We just hooked up. That’s it.”

He just snorted. “Yeah? Tell that to the 40 million people who liked the tweets about it.”

Ellie groaned so loud it could’ve been mistaken for a death rattle. “This is so fucking bad.”

Jesse ignored her, grinning like an absolute menace. “Like, do you even understand the cultural impact of what you’ve done? This is like—” He gestured wildly. “—punk rock meets Billboard Hot 100 hookup of the century!”

Dina smirked. “And judging by the way she was walking? You bodied that shit.”

Ellie scowled. “She was wearing heels all night!”

Dina arched a brow. “So were you gonna say that, or are you just making that up now?”

Ellie opened her mouth. Closed it. Dragged a hand down her face.

Jesse cackled. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

She was this close to walking out.

Then, like a gift from hell, her phone started buzzing.

Your name flashed across the screen. Gasps.

Ellie panicked, immediately shoving it in her pocket.

Dina’s jaw dropped. “Did you just—DECLINE Y/N?! Are you fucking STUPID?!”

Jesse shook his head, dead serious. “No, no. Let her cook. Maybe she’s playing hard to get.”

Ellie groaned, yanking her jacket off the chair and making her way to the door. “Practice over. I hope both of you trip over a flight of stairs and eat shit all the way down.”

“Aw, so sweet of you!” Dina beamed. “We’re gonna start picking baby names as soon as you leave.”

Ellie didn’t even look back—just flipped them off on her way out like a parting gift.

The door slammed shut loudly.

A beat of silence.

Then, muffled through the wall—

“AND JESSE STOP SAYING LET HER COOK THE MEME DIED MONTHS AGO.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP NO IT DIDN’T!”

Ellie had barely stepped out of the studio, muttering “Fucking kill me” before calling you back. As soon as you answered, she was quick to be the first one to talk.

“Before you say anything—this is not my fault.”

Your voice came through immediately. 

“Ellie.”

Tone flat. Dead serious.

She hesitated. “…Yeah?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Ellie stopped dead in her tracks. Like, full-body malfunction.

Her entire fucking life flashed before her eyes. Marriage. A house. A tiny baby wrapped in a flannel onesie. Joel crying at the babyshower. Dina and Jesse as the weirdly invested godparents.

Silence.

Then—

“Oh, fuck off!”

You howled with laughter. “Not even a little panic? All I got was a one-second existential crisis?”

“Dude. Biology exists.”

Though, if she was being honest, you had her for a solid half-second. She could already hear Joel clearing his throat, preparing for his father-of-the-bride speech, could already see Jesse and Dina clicking through a PowerPoint titled "Ellie Williams: Accidentally Domesticated—A case study."

You scoffed “See, this is why you’re no fun.”

“This is why you're deranged.”

“You love it.”

“No. You need therapy.”

“I have therapy. On Thursdays. Shoutout to Linda.”

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Did you actually need something, or was this just a drive-by psychological attack?”

“Oh, you know. Just the minor issue that the entire fucking internet thinks we’re dating?”

Ellie groaned, unlocking her car with a beep. “Technically, we could just ignore it—”

“Ellie.”

“…Yeah, yeah. What’s the damage?”

“Well” you started, voice syrupy sweet, “Not only do I look like I did the world’s sluttiest walk of shame, but people also figured out those were your clothes. And, fun fact! They say you dress like a divorced dad from Home Depot.”

“Yeah, I saw.”

“No, I don’t think you understand the severity of it.” Your voice got increasingly dramatic. “People have shipping spreadsheets. They have theories. Someone made a Google doc analyzing our astrology compatibility. Ellie, we are trending #1 WORLDWIDE.”

Ellie ran a hand down her face. “This is so fucking stupid.”

“Someone said—direct quote— that this is ‘the lesbian's Super Bowl.' ”

She paused. “That one might be true tho.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit.”

Ellie grinned, leaning back. “Alright, so what’s the move? Damage control?”

A pause. 

“Well…” you said, voice a little too careful, “my manager thinks we should… lean into it.”

Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

Another pause.

Then, your voice, even softer now. “Can we… talk in person?”

Ellie immediately clocked the hesitation. “Why do I feel like I’m 'bout to get scammed?”

“You’re not! I just… I’d rather explain in person.”

She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “…Fine. Where?”

“My place.”

Ellie frowned. “Why yours?”

“Because there’s paparazzi crammed outside the Four Seasons, dumbass.”

…Fair.

She exhaled. “…Yeah. Alright.”

“Cool. I’ll send you the address.”

A beat. Then—

“…Wait” Ellie muttered. “How the fuck did you get my number?”

Silence.

“…Contacts.”

Ellie’s brows furrowed. “What does that mean? Who—”

“Doesn’t matter.” you cut in, then cleared your throat. “Anyway. Can you, uh… give me my dress back? It was custom.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“…Ellie.”

“It might still be on the floor.”

A sharp inhale. “You little shit.”

Ellie smirked as she pulled out of the parking lot.

“On my way, pop star.”

Ellie had barely knocked twice before the door swung open.

And there you were.

Standing in the dim light of your penthouse, arms crossed, drowning in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. Your hair was slightly messy, like you’d been curled up somewhere before she got here, and your skin glowed just right under the soft, golden hue of your apartment lights.

“Hey”

“Hey”

She exhaled, stepping inside as you shut the door behind her. She barely had time to take in the space before she realized—this was money.

The penthouse stretched wide, the kind of design meant to make people feel small. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city skyline, headlights cutting through the night far below. The furniture was sleek, modern—gray couches, glass tables, designer pieces that looked both expensive and comfortable. A grand piano sat near the window, it's lid closed and a guitar leaning against it, used enough to make Ellie smirk.

But it was the small things that caught her eye. A candle burning low on the counter. A glass of wine next to a notebook cracked open on the coffee table, filled with lyrics. Scribbled, messy. Some lines scratched out, others rewritten in the margins.

“Jesus” she muttered, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Could’ve warned me I was walking into a fucking palace.”

“Says the millionaire.”

Her eyes flicked to you—leaning against the counter, arms crossed, mouth twitching like you were amused by her reaction.

She huffed.

“So.”

“So.”

The silence stretched, just a little too thick. A weight neither of you wanted to touch.

Then, finally, you exhaled.

“My manager thinks we should fake date.”

Ellie snorted “Yeah, no shit.”

“She says it’ll be good for both of us.”

She hummed, sauntering over to the couch before sinking into it like she owned the place. Her legs spread wide, hands rubbing over her jeans, shoulders sinking into the cushions. She looked up at you, unreadable.

“And? You wanna do it?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know.”  Your fingers tapped against the counter, your teeth dragged over your bottom lip. You looked… conflicted. “It’s just—ugh. The thought of staging something like this is so gross.”

You exhaled, tilting your head back. “Pretending to be into you in public? It just feels—”

A beat.

Ellie raised an eyebrow.

You hesitated.

And there it was. The shift.

“Pretending?” she repeated slowly.

You scowled. “You know what I mean.”

Ellie tilted her head, gaze flicking downward—brief, barely there—before dragging right back up like she knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Do I?”

Your skin flushed, irritation prickling down your spine. She was too comfortable—slouched on your couch like it was hers, fingers drumming against her knee, wearing that look. That lazy, lopsided smirk that made your stomach clench and your heart do backflips.

You muttered. "Cut the bullshit."

Ellie watched you, green eyes sharp, the corner of her mouth curling like she already knew what you were thinking—like she could see straight through you. And maybe she could.

That was the problem.

Because this wasn’t just some business deal, some harmless PR stunt. 

This was Ellie fucking Williams. 

A menace. A woman who flirted like it was her second nature. Who carried herself with the kind of reckless confidence that made people love her and hate her in the same breath. She was sharp, fast-mouthed, and annoyingly charming when she wanted to be. She kissed like she had something to prove and fucked like she knew she was amazing at it. 

She was the kind that didn’t just leave bruises—that left marks.

And now, you are supposed to pretend to be hers. In public. In pictures. In interviews. She’d make it look effortless, like every lingering touch and stolen glance meant everything.

Meanwhile, you’d have to grit your teeth and pretend she wasn’t already under your skin—pretend you don’t know exactly how this will end.

Ellie’s voice pulled you back.

“We can set rules.”

You blinked, exhaling sharply. “Rules?”

She nodded, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yeah. Lines we don’t cross. Shit we don’t do. Make it easier.”

You considered that. It did make sense. Setting boundaries meant this wouldn’t spiral into a complete disaster—just a controlled one.

“…Fine.”

Ellie grinned, tilting her head. “Great. Rule number one—no catching feelings.”

You scoffed, pushing off the counter and taking a sip of your wine. “Oh, trust me, Williams, that was never a problem.”

What a goddamn lie.

Ellie chuckled, dragging a hand over her jaw before settling back into the couch. She watched you a second too long, eyes flicking over you like she was deciding whether to call you on your bullshit. That fucking grin still lingered—lazy, amused. 

She was enjoying this.

You exhaled slowly, setting your wine glass down with a quiet clink. “I got my own rules.”

“Let’s hear ‘em.”

You leveled her with a look. “No strings attached.”

Ellie blinked, then snorted. “Starting off strong.”

“I’m serious,” you said, arms crossing. “No getting weird about anything. We do what we have to do in public, but behind closed doors, it’s our business. No jealousy, no possessiveness.”

Ellie tilted her head, her smirk growing. “So basically, we can do whatever we want?”

You hesitated.

A fraction of a second too long.

Then nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a shift in the air. Subtle, almost imperceptible, but there. Ellie’s eyes dragged over you—slow, measured, her expression unreadable.

“…Can we still fuck, though?”

Your face didn’t waver, but your stomach clenched, a tiny, unwelcome knot forming deep in your gut.

“Yeah. But it doesn’t mean anything.”

The words landed firm, like a line drawn in the sand, but even as you said them, they felt a little off. Like something rehearsed, something you were trying a little too hard to believe.

Ellie let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. “Jesus, babe. You’re ruthless.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“Not even a little.” She stretched out, arms draping over the back of the couch, looking maddeningly at ease. “Just didn’t expect you to be the one setting that rule.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, because deep down, you weren’t sure what would piss you off more—her calling you out on your bullshit, or the fact that she might actually be right.

Ellie hummed. “Fine. No strings attached. What else?”

You rubbed your temple, thinking. “Public stuff needs to be controlled. If we’re going to be seen together, it needs to be intentional.”

Ellie nodded. “So, no sneaky paparazzi pics of us at, like, McDonald’s?”

“Exactly.”

“There goes my dream of getting papped in the drive-thru with you.”

You ignored that. “Next—if one of us wants out, we end it. No bullshit.”

Ellie’s smirk softened slightly. “Fair enough.”

The mood had shifted—just a fraction. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a warning sign, but at least your shoulders didn’t feel as tight anymore.

You reached for your wine again. “We also need a reason.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow.

“For why we’re suddenly together,” you clarified.

She considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “Easy. We met through mutual friends, started talking, made it official recently.”

You nodded. “Good. Vague, but believable.”

Then Ellie grinned. “So when’s our anniversary?”

“I’m breaking up with you already.”

Ellie threw her head back, laughing. “Damn. Cold as hell.”

You just smirked, watching the wine swirl in your glass, but the humor faded when Ellie leaned forward slightly, her gaze a little sharper now.

“So, just to recap,” she said, voice steady. “No feelings. No jealousy. We can fuck, but it doesn't mean anything. And if one of us wants out, we’re out.”

“…Yeah.” You swallowed, the weight of it settling between you both. “...Are you actually okay with this?”

Ellie leaned back into the couch, dragging a hand over her jaw.

Was she?

She’d done PR stunts before—appearances, interviews, the occasional fake chemistry for cameras. But a fake relationship? That was a different level of commitment. A different level of risk.

At the same time… she wasn’t exactly in a position to say no. She needed something to get the media off her ass. Headlines about bar fights, reckless behavior, and being a bad influence were piling up like a rap sheet. A carefully controlled narrative—a shiny, clean distraction—might be the only thing that kept her from burning out entirely.

But then…

She looked at you.

Drop-dead gorgeous. Smart as hell. Sharp tongue. A little mean in a way that made people want to prove themselves.

And yeah, sure—this was fake. But Ellie wasn’t fucking stupid. Fake or not, this was the kind of shit that got under her skin, settled in deep and refused to leave.

She’d made plenty of bad decisions before, walked into things knowing exactly how they would end, knowing they’d chew her up and spit her out. That was the thing about trouble. It never felt like trouble in the moment. It started as a game, as a deal, as something simple—until one day, it wasn’t. Until it had its teeth in her, until she was in too deep to pretend she didn’t care.

And this?

This had all the makings of that kind of mistake.

But she still exhaled, still ran a hand through her hair, still met your eyes without hesitation.

“Yeah” She sighed “I’m in.”

“Alright,” you murmured, swirling the wine in your glass before taking a slow sip. Then, with a smirk just shy of reckless—

“This is officially the worst decision of our lives.”

Ellie leaned back like she had all the time in the world, legs spreading wider, her grin all sharp edges. “What you mean? This is already the most stable relationship I’ve ever had.”

You scoffed, reaching for your wine again. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

Ellie shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, babe. The bar is in hell.”

You closed your eyes for a second, exhaled, then took another long drink. “God help me.”

After a few minutes, Ellie reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a pre-rolled blunt, twirling it lazily between her fingers. She glanced up at you, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

“You smoke?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Ellie shrugged, biting the tip of the blunt. “What? It’s part of the rockstar lifestyle.”

You scoffed. “And I’m the popstar, so technically, I should be saying no.”

Ellie pulled out a lighter, flicking it open with a metallic click. “Live a little.”

You exhaled. “Fine. But if TMZ catches me high, I’m blaming you.”

Ellie grinned, bringing the lighter to the tip of the blunt, the paper curling as it burned. She took a slow, practiced drag, holding it deep in her lungs before exhaling smoothly, the smoke swirling toward the ceiling. Then she passed it to you.

You hesitated for a half-second before bringing it to your lips, inhaling. The burn was familiar, settling in your chest before you exhaled, watching the smoke dissipate into the dimly lit room.

Already, the tension from earlier—the ridiculous fake-dating rules, the push and pull of whatever this was—started to fade into something looser, easier.

Ellie watched you, her smirk deepening. “Damn. You’re not new to this.”

You took another hit before passing it back, lips quirking. “Told you. I just have a better PR team than you.”

Ellie chuckled, shaking her head as she took another drag.

Somehow, the conversation had spiraled.

You were both slumped against the couch, trading the last remnants of the blunt back and forth, locked in a heated debate over whether or not you’d survive a zombie apocalypse.

Ellie scoffed, waving a lazy hand. “C’mon, you wouldn’t last a week.”

“Excuse me?” You sat up, pointing at her. “I would absolutely outlive you.”

“You literally have, like, five personal assistants. You don’t even carry your own bags.”

“So? That doesn’t mean I can’t fight!”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, amused. “Alright. How would you kill a zombie?”

You blinked. “...Guns?”

Ellie groaned, shaking her head like you had just personally offended her. 

“What?!”

“You’d run out of ammo in, like, a week.”

You crossed your arms. “Okay, smartass. What’s your genius survival plan?”

“Baseball bat. Blunt force trauma. Reusable, no reload time.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That’s so gross.”

Ellie shrugged. “Yeah? So is dying.”

You huffed, sinking back into the couch. “I’m sure that if I were in a zombie apocalypse, I’d be the immune one.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, flicking the blunt towards the ashtray. “Oh, shut up. I'd be the immune one. And the main character.”

You huffed, dramatically flopping back against the couch, exhaling a long, exaggerated sigh. Ellie grinned, stretching her arms behind her head.

“All that contract negotiation made me hungry.”

You snorted, swirling the last sip of wine in your glass. “You literally agreed to everything in under five minutes.”

“Exactly,” Ellie sighed. “Exhausting.”

She pulled out her phone, scrolling. “What’s the most unserious meal we could possibly order right now?”

You barely had to think. “Taco Bell.”

Ellie’s face lit up. “God, I fucking love you.”

You shot her a dry look.

“Platonically. Obviously.”

You rolled your eyes, watching as she tapped aggressively on the app. “What do you want?”

“Crunchwrap Supreme, two Doritos Locos Tacos, and a Baja Blast.”

Ellie blinked. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

“I take my Taco Bell order very seriously.”

Ellie hummed approvingly. “Respect.” She added your order to the already absurd amount of food in her cart and checked out.

By the time the Taco Bell arrived, you were both fully slumped into the couch, heavy-limbed and loose from the high. Ellie tossed the bag onto the coffee table with zero grace, nearly knocking over your very expensive candle.

“Jesus, be careful” you muttered, steadying it.

Ellie unwrapped her burrito with a crinkle of foil, smirking. “What, scared I’ll ruin your rich-person aesthetic?”

You leaned back, exhaling. “Yeah, actually. I have a brand to uphold.”

Ellie huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she took a bite. The two of you ate in a comfortable lull, the only sounds coming from the low hum of music playing from your speaker and the occasional rustle of food wrappers.

In that moment, you felt something you hadn’t felt with anyone in a long time—at ease. Because being with her was effortless.

No need to pose, fake a smile, or worry if your hair was in place. You could just exist. And there was something dangerously comfortable about that, something weirdly domestic. Like slipping into a rhythm you hadn’t even realized you’d been craving.

Ellie spoke suddenly, pulling you back, like the thought had just slipped out before she could decide if it was worth saying.

“So, why’d you start doing music?”

The question landed between you like a weight, unexpected and heavy.

You paused, mid-bite, blinking at her. She wasn’t even looking at you—just lazily pulling apart her quesadilla, like she hadn’t just cracked open something raw and unplanned.

You swallowed, shifting slightly. “I don’t know.”

A beat.

“It’s the only thing I was ever really good at.”

That got her attention. Her fingers stilled against the tortilla, her eyes flicking up—steady, unreadable.

With a quiet sigh, you set your food down. “I mean, growing up, I sucked at everything else. School, sports, whatever—I just never stuck with anything. But music?” You tilted your head, feeling the thought click into place. “That made sense. I liked how it made people feel. You write something, and suddenly, some stranger out there feels understood in a way they didn’t before. Like, for three minutes, they’re not alone.”

Ellie’s chewing slowed, her gaze lingering. “Yeah.” Her voice had dropped, more thoughtful. “That’s kinda the whole point, huh?”

You hummed, watching her. “…What about you?”

She hesitated, then leaned back into the couch, stretching like she was trying to shake something off. “Not that different, honestly.” One arm draped over the backrest, fingers tapping idly against the cushion. “Joel was always into music. Taught me how to play guitar when I was a kid, and it just kinda stuck ever since.”

Your head tilted slightly. “Joel Miller? That’s your dad, right?”

A nod. “Yeah. He’s—” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “—intense. But in a good way, mostly. He gives a shit. Probably more than I deserve.”

Your brows knitted together. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

Ellie let out a quiet chuckle, but it was dry, almost automatic. “Nah. Just being honest.”

Something about the way she said it made your chest feel tight.

You thought about pushing, about pressing your thumb against that tiny crack she’d let slip, but something told you she’d just deflect, maybe make some stupid joke to steer the conversation away.

So, instead, you sighed dramatically, letting the moment pass. “I think I’m too high for all this deep shit.”

Ellie huffed out a laugh. “Same.”

You grinned, swirling your drink. “Okay, new topic—what’s your favorite song?”

Ellie tilted her head, thinking. “Dunno. How’s that one song of yours go? That’s that me espresso?”

The room went still.

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

A deep, soul-crushing betrayal settled in your chest, a wound so profound it might never heal. Your breath caught, fingers gripping your shirt like she had physically stabbed you.

Ellie, still chewing, barely spared you a glance. “What?”

Your hands trembled. “That’s Espresso.”

Your voice dropped an octave. Near-feral.

“BY. SABRINA. CARPENTER.”

Ellie paused mid-bite, brow furrowing. “Wait… that’s not your song?”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

Ellie shrugged, unbothered. “I mean, y’all sound kinda similar.”

You shot up so fast from the couch it screeched against the floor. “I HOPE YOUR AMP SHORT-CIRCUITS MID-SOLO.”

Ellie’s laughter rang through the room, loud and unbothered. “Jesus. Touch some grass.”

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the weight of an arm draped over your waist.

The second was the godawful dryness in your mouth, the kind that only came from bad decisions the night before and even worse hydration choices.

Squinting against the morning light, you shifted slightly, trying to piece together where the hell you were. Your head ached, limbs heavy, the air still thick with the scent of weed.

And then, as you turned your head—

Ellie.

Dead asleep beside you.

Face buried in the couch, hair a disaster, breathing slow and steady. One arm thrown over your waist like it belonged there, her entire body half-pressed against yours, radiating warmth. Her tank top had ridden up slightly, exposing just enough of the tattoos trailing down her back to make your already-dysfunctional brain short-circuit.

It should be illegal to look that good while sleeping.

You swallowed hard, painfully aware of the way her fingers twitched slightly against your stomach. Desperate for a distraction, you forced your gaze to the rest of the room.

The coffee table was an absolute crime scene—wrappers, crumpled napkins, open sauce packets, empty Baja Blast cups, and one lonely, half-eaten quesadilla clinging to life.

You groaned softly, rubbing your face, before muscle memory had you reaching for your phone.

And that’s when the real nightmare started.

Rachel (25 Missed Calls, 17 Texts).

Your stomach immediately twisted into knots.

Dreading whatever mess you’d apparently caused, you clicked the messages.

Rachel: WAKE UP Rachel: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP Rachel: CHECK TWITTER RIGHT NOW.

A cold dread crawled up your spine.

With the kind of slow, creeping horror usually reserved for slasher films, you opened Twitter.

And there it was.

Trending.

#y/nandEllie

#HARDLAUNCHOFTHECENTURY

Your entire body locked up.

“What the fuck?” you croaked, voice barely functioning.

Next to you, Ellie shifted, groaning as her arm tightened around your waist, pulling you in just a fraction before she mumbled into the cushion, voice thick with sleep, “Why’re you talking?”

You didn’t even process the fact that she was literally holding you because you were too busy trying not to pass out.

Instagram. You need to check instagram.

And then you saw it.

Your most recent story.

A photo of Ellie.

Sitting on the couch, head tilted down, scrolling on her phone. Messy hair, tattoos on full display, one leg tucked up like she owned the place. In front of her? The entire ungodly Taco Bell order. Wrappers, bags, napkins—absolute devastation.

And the caption, in bold, unhinged letters:

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

One hundred million people have already seen it.

“FUCK!”

Ellie shifted again, her fingers skimming your stomach as she let out a sleepy groan. “Dude” she mumbled. “What now?”

You turned to her, shoving the phone directly in her face, voice pure horror.

“You let me post this?!”

She blinked at the screen. Then blinked again. And then, as if the universe hadn’t already humiliated you enough, she started grinning.

It was slow at first, creeping across her face, her shoulders starting to shake—before she full-on lost it. Ellie fucking cackled. Like, sleep-rough, chest-shaking, burying-her-face-in-the-couch dying.

You smacked her arm. “THIS IS FUCKING SERIOUS!”

She barely lifted her head, still grinning like an absolute menace.

“We smoked another blunt, got drunk, and thought it would be funny.” She stretched lazily and patted your thigh, voice rough with amusement. “So, I guess we’re official now.”

You smacked her again.

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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

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ I HAD SO MUCH FUN W THIS ONE LMAOOO. I went so full out with brainrot memes i realized how much i need to touch some grass. 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 ;)

[andy-15-07]

It's SNL night tonight!! How 'bout reader sitting in the audience with his family supporting Pedro on SNL

His Biggest Fan

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 628 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The energy in the SNL studio was electric, the kind of buzz that only came with a live show night. Y/N sat in the audience, surrounded by Pedro’s family, his sister and cousins chatting animatedly while they waited for the show to begin. The excitement was palpable, and Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she took it all in. Pedro had been nervous all week, rehearsing skits and perfecting his monologue, but she knew he would be incredible.

His sister nudged her playfully. "You ready to see your man kill it tonight?"

Y/N laughed, feeling warmth spread through her chest. "Absolutely. He’s been practicing his lines in the mirror like a lunatic. I caught him doing different voices at breakfast."

They all chuckled, knowing exactly how seriously Pedro took his work. The lights dimmed slightly, signaling the show was about to start, and the iconic opening music filled the studio. The crowd erupted in cheers as the announcer boomed, "Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!"

When Pedro finally walked onto the stage for his monologue, looking effortlessly charming in a perfectly tailored suit, Y/N felt a swell of pride. He smiled at the audience, a mixture of excitement and nerves in his eyes.

"Wow," he started, looking around the studio. "This is insane. I can’t believe I’m here… hosting SNL!"

The audience roared with applause, and Pedro chuckled, running a hand through his hair. Y/N could tell he was settling into his rhythm. He glanced toward where they were seated, his eyes locking with hers for the briefest moment, a small, almost imperceptible wink sent in her direction.

His monologue was a perfect mix of humor and sincerity, poking fun at himself, his roles, and even his newfound internet heartthrob status. The crowd ate it up, laughing and cheering at every punchline. Y/N found herself laughing the loudest, feeling a surge of affection for him.

As the show progressed, Pedro nailed every skit, seamlessly blending into the absurd world of SNL. Whether he was playing a medieval warrior in an over-the-top soap opera parody or an exhausted dad in a grocery store meltdown skit, his comedic timing was flawless. Between takes, Y/N would glance at his family, all of them beaming with pride.

During a quick break, Pedro’s sister leaned in. "He’s having the time of his life. You can see it."

Y/N nodded, watching him from afar as he laughed with the cast members, the stress of the week melting away. "He really is."

The highlight of the night came during the last skit—a surprise cameo that had the audience screaming. As the final applause rang through the studio, Pedro bowed dramatically, his wide smile visible even from where Y/N sat.

When the show wrapped, the cast and crew took their bows, and Pedro made his way over to them, still buzzing with adrenaline.

"You were amazing!" Y/N said as she wrapped her arms around him, feeling his chest rise and fall with exhilaration.

Pedro squeezed her tightly. "Did you see me almost break in that last skit? I swear, I was seconds away from losing it."

His sister laughed. "We saw, and we loved it. You killed it tonight."

Pedro let out a breath of relief, his smile softening as he looked at Y/N. "You think so?"

She cupped his face gently. "I know so."

He leaned in, pressing a quick, grateful kiss to her lips before pulling back with a grin. "Alright, let’s go celebrate. I need food, drinks, and at least five hours of sleep."

As they left the studio together, Y/N tucked herself under his arm, the warmth of the night’s success surrounding them. There was no better feeling than seeing someone she loved shine, and tonight, Pedro had done just that.

[jaylalolz]

when will you release “get him back” part 2?? 💓❤️‍🩹

❛ 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 ❜ p2 . . . nicholas chavez

SINGER!reader x EX!nicholas 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

PART ONE

SUMMARY, a jaw-dropping photo surfaced on social media, showing Y/N and Nicholas sharing a passionate kiss.

A/N, here you go💋💋

WARNINGS, none

♥︎ 5.1M 💬 15,467 ➤ 8478

y/nuser “Bad idea right?” is number 1 on the billboard 100!!! thank you guys so so much for streaming & thank you to the person who was my inspiration while writing bc this song wouldn’t be here without you❤️💜

view all comments

one day ago

tatemcrae, everyone say thank you nicholas for the song of the summer !!!

⤿ y/nuser, TATE SHUSHHH

user, yall are teasing us atp

user, i js know y/n is screaming at tate over the phone rn

user, girl WE need answers

user, you can’t just post this and expect us NOT to go crazy

user, ik nick blushing hard asf rn

user, tate is out for blood omg😂

user, NICK JUST REPOSTED

user, oh they’re SO back

user, GIRL don’t play with us, are you and nick getting back tg?

user, y/n and nick part two????

user, i’m not okay after reading the caption

ENEWS ARTICLE

Y/N AND NICHOLAS just broke the internet—and it’s not just because of her latest chart-topping hit.

The two pop sensations, who famously dated before calling it quits over a year ago, are once again the talk of the town. Just days after Y/N dropped her fiery new single, “Bad Idea Right?”, fans are speculating that the song might be more than just a story—it could be real-life drama unfolding before our eyes.

In the song, Y/N sings about how meeting up with an ex is a “bad idea,” but admits she’s going to do it anyway. The cheeky, rebellious track quickly captured fans’ attention with its catchy beat and vulnerable lyrics, but the real drama started when Y/N took to Instagram to thank the person who inspired her to write the song after it debuted at number one on the Billboard Hot 100.

Her cryptic caption read: “Thank you to the person who inspired me to write this song, because it wouldn’t be here without you.” Cue the speculation—fans immediately suspected that the song was about Nicholas, her ex.

But it didn’t stop there.

Just hours after her Instagram post, a jaw-dropping photo surfaced on social media, showing Y/N and Nicholas sharing a passionate kiss. The candid shot, which appears to have been taken during a night out, sent fans into an absolute meltdown, with many wondering if the pair are rekindling their romance after a year apart.

Twitter erupted with reactions, with one fan tweeting: “THEY’RE KISSING. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Y/N AND NICHOLAS ARE BACK TOGETHER!!” Another user added: “She wrote a song about seeing her ex and now they’re making out?? ICONIC behavior.”

Neither Y/N nor Nicholas has commented on the photo or addressed the growing speculation, but fans are convinced that the kiss confirms what “Bad Idea Right?” hinted at—these two are giving love another shot.

Y/N and Nicholas first dated two years ago and were a fan-favorite couple, often seen together at industry events and collaborating on music. However, they shocked their followers when they announced their split last year, citing busy schedules and the pressures of fame as reasons for the breakup.

With “Bad Idea Right?” rocketing to the top of the charts and this steamy kiss photo making headlines, all eyes are on Y/N and Nicholas to see where this rekindled flame might lead. Is this the reunion their fans have been waiting for, or just a brief moment of nostalgia?

One thing’s for sure—Y/N and Nicholas are definitely back in the spotlight, and fans can’t get enough of the drama.

[sillysiluriforme]

hello! i absolutely love la terreur and i’ve been wanting to make an oc for a while now. i usually don’t use tumblr at all but i really wanted to participate in la terreur.

(i got too lazy to colour it)

here everybody’s favourite evil teenage capitalist!

additional info:

-sentikid (dad died but it’s ok he was an ass)

-PROUD AMERICAN rahhh 🦅🦅🇺🇸

-centrist-republican (it varies) 

-constantly says “money makes the world go around” as an excuse for everything

-operates on 1) “everything is legal as long as you don’t get caught” and 2) “if get caught, be rich enough to avoid consequences”

-enjoys sci fi and brutualist architecture. enjoys modern shit basically. also possibly the only person ever to enjoy modern art (she frequents the guggenheim museum regularly on vacays)

-pro capitalism WASP family, has family members spread out across various new england states. some are in government (usually municipal or state), others are in academia or business 

-hates wearing the hat and sunglasses actually (it looks fabulous but it’s lowkey bothersome) but has to to hide her natural roots and eyes

-her favourite character ever is patrick bateman

-loves heels (just enjoys making her presence known with click clack sounds)

-hates children. hates everybody actually

-yes that is a tie. she wears a tie 

-protestant christian but a weird mix of strict but also incredibly loose in faith 

-actually aspiring to be a corrupt billionaire 

-distinct lack of morals and empathy (both inherent and learned)

-unhinged and psychotic behaviour (is not very good at pretending to be a normal person)

-actually needs glasses but doesn’t like the look of them so she just goes around blind and squinting at things (she is not allowed to have contacts) 

-has meltdowns like a man. punches walls and destructive shit. she does not have the ability to cry (senticommand)

-huge anger issues 

-huge huge superiority complex 

-very loud and general lack of volume control (it’s actually on purpose)

-homeschooled

-born in washington dc

-unapologetic. does not try to hide her true opinions. in fact she actually doesn’t shut up about them. no social filter whatsoever 

-despite running around proclaiming to be WASP she’s is actually a quarter east asian and russian descent. it doesn’t show at all except in for her black hair and monolid eyes. she’s the only one to look slightly non-WASP in her family and she’s pissed about it  

what an icon,,,,,,,

[caldella]

Still thinking about how so many "Stolas working for IMP" headcanons included the fact that Stolas' mannerisms might make him better to deal with customers on the phone vs. Loona's gruffer and disinterested personality. But on Stolas' first day he broke down crying, wrote shitty erotica, told the customer to shut the fuck up, had a screaming meltdown, trashed the office, and literally just left.

✨ What a fucking icon. ✨

[manicali]

Ya girl is bored so im starting a tag game yippee

How close do y’all look to your profile picture? Cause I see y’all as your icons. That’s how you look in my mind

Mine is supposed to be ME so other than the blueness

Anywhoooo

@helluvaandhazbinarelife @wyfy-meltdown ( I already know yours, but join if you want anyway) @speakofthedebbie

@thee0ne-whos-normal

@silly-gizmo @blairthebword

Join if you like.

[natashaslesbian]

Dads and Fathers | SJ|CJ

Summary: it’s your fathers weekend to look after you but you quickly realise who your dad truly is

Request: Could you do one about Scarlett's daughter with Ryan Reynolds. The daughter is autistic. She is with her dad's but her mom is called when she has a meltdown.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings/Content: Some swearing / Autistic meltdown (written from my personal experience with my own autism)

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“I don’t wanna go” you whined as Scarlett zipped up your backpack “y/n he’s your dad and you know how the custody situation is set up” your mom said. “Why can’t I just see him for a day, I don’t wanna stay overnight” you argued, pulling your bag away from Scarlett’s hold. “Y/n” your mom sighed “please mom, it’s not like you want me to go for the weekend either” you pleaded. “It doesn’t matter what I want” Scarlett said, taking the bag back “and me neither right” you shrugged before storming out of your bedroom. Your mom frowned as her eyes followed you, she knew what your father was like.

Most kids would be thrilled to have the actual Ryan Reynolds as their dad and then gaining Blake Lively as a stepmom, but not you. You were always a mommy’s girl and when you were old enough to realise what your dad had done to your mom, you hated your father for it. Ryan wasn’t truly a bad man but he’d made mistakes and it was evident that he loved and cared for you, but he didn’t truly know you.

“Hey pumpkin” Colin said as he emerged from Cosmos bedroom, having just put the young boy down for his nap. You paused in your journey at looked up at him with water filled eyes “what’s wrong?” Colin asked before you came crashing into his arms. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s happened sweetie?” He questioned, tightening his hold on you. “I don’t wanna go to Ryan’s house this weekend” you mumbled. “Aw kid, c’mon we talked about this huh?” Colin said kindly “you gotta give it a try y/n, if you go in with a negative attitude it’s never gonna work is it? Okay so chin up, he’s your dad right?” He finished. “No, he’s not, you are” you whined, pushing your face into his neck. Colin sighed as he rested his chin atop your head, you basked in the pressure he provided, he knew just what to do to calm you.

All of a sudden, Rose came running down the hallway “daddy Colin my Lego broke!” She screamed. You groaned as the sound invaded your ears, pulling your hands up to cover them. “Rosie sweetheart, Colin will come help you soon okay, go back to your room darling” Scarlett said as she appeared behind the young blonde, giving her a quick peck on the forehead “Come on kid we gotta get going” your mom said, carrying your backpack. You looked up into Colin’s eyes and begrudgingly pulled away. “Did you pack little Natasha?” You asked. “Of course” Scarlett sadly smiled, reminded of your beloved stuffed bear dressed as her iconic character. “Okay” you mumbled, finally ready to leave the safety of your parents. “I’ll see you on Monday kiddo” Colin said.

You were silent the whole journey to your fathers house, you wouldn’t even let Scarlett turn on the radio. All Scarlett wanted to do was turn around and take you home, but she had an agreement with Ryan and like it or not you were his daughter, he had every right to see you. Your leg bounced anxiously as the car rolled to a stop, you could see Blake and her forced smile waiting to greet you. Scarlett passed you you’re things while you were still in the car, she of course wanted nothing to do with Blake. “Got everything?” Your mom asked. “Mhm” you mumbled, struggling to speak. “Okay. I love you” Scarlett smiled, not truly being able to wish that you would have a good weekend.

You felt bad not being able to connect with your mom and hug her goodbye, all you could do was watch the car pull away. “Hey y/n!” Blake falsely cheered as you came up the front path. Your stepmom pulled you into an awkward hug and the feeling made your skin crawl, it wasn’t necessarily her, you just didn’t want to be touched right now. “Your dads just at the store, think he’s grabbing some chocolate ice cream” the woman said, talking to you as if you were no more than 5 years old. “Ok” you hummed, forcing the words. “Why don’t you head up to your room and I’ll call you down when your dad’s back?” Blake said. Your room? Those four walls felt nothing of the sort.

It was a few hours later now, your dad brought back lasagne for dinner and you appreciated the effort to make your favourite meal. “Y/n dinners ready” Ryan called up the staircase. You winced at the sudden voice echoing throughout the walls, you’d told him time and time again that you didn’t like raised voices. You dragged your exhausted body to the end of the bed, making sure to grab little Natasha from your pillow. You padded lightly down the stairs, almost crashing into Blake at the bottom. “Woah watch it y/n” she said. You laughed uncomfortably, not sure if she was joking or not.

You followed the blonde into the dining room, cringing at the clattering of china plates. “Oh for goodness sake y/n” your dad said as he turned around “you’re still dragging that thing around?” He sighed. You followed his eye line down to the brown bear in your arms. You wished he was just annoyed that the stuffie was dressed at black widow (everyone knows how jealous he is of the characters success) but you knew it was something more, he was embarrassed by you. “Sorry, I’ll go put her away” you mumbled. “Good, you’re not sitting at this table with a stupid teddy bear, what are you five?” Ryan snarled.

You fought through dinner with gritted teeth at every scrape of metal against the plates. You desperately craved the familiar softness of your stuffed bear and the distracting sound of Colin’s voice. Your leg was bouncing underneath the table as you struggled to swallow each mouthful of food. Your brain was so loud, it sounded like there were ten thousand conversations happening, when it reality it was just the two voices at the table with you. Everything was too much. Too much sound. Too much light. Too much air. It was all too much.

Scarlett and Colin were enjoying a quiet night together after dropping off their two youngest children at the actress’s moms house. The two were partly focused on a movie while conversing over light day to day topics when Scarlett’s phone began to ring. “Three guesses who” Colin sighed, referring to you and your siblings. The blonde giggled softly before reaching for her mobile “Ryan?” Scarlett asked, confused and worried, it was only in certain situations the two had agreed to talk over the phone. Colin instantly stood to attention when he realised what was most likely happening, he knew you weren’t okay and now he regretted ever letting you go to your fathers.

Scarlett didn’t even wait for the car to stop before she ran out towards Ryan house, only slowing her pace when she wakes through the door. “Where is she?” Your mom asked “dining room” Ryan sighed. Colin finally caught up with his wife as they both came into the dining room. You were huddled in the corner, rocking back and forth slightly “where’s little Natasha?” Scarlett asked, not seeing the bear in your arms as she had expected. “It’s upstairs, she’s not sitting at the table like a three year old with a teddy bear. That’s what all this is about” Ryan gritted. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Colin huffed as he left to retrieve your bear.

“sweetheart” your mom cooed quietly, her heart broke as you flinched back slightly. “What actually happened, she’s never like this” Scarlett angrily whispered, walking back over to her ex husband. “I don’t know! She’s been in a mood since she got here and now she���s acting like a baby, she just wants attention” Ryan shrugged. “She’s autistic Ryan! How many times have we gone through this” Scarlett said, calming herself before returning to your side.

Colin came back into the room, little Natasha in his arms “I packed her bag” he said. “Oh hell no this is my weekend!” Ryan shouted, causing you to whimper from the corner. “I don’t care, if you can’t look after her properly then I’m taking my daughter home” Colin said. “Your daughter!” Blake chimed in. “Stop it!” You cried. “It’s ok sweetie, we’re going home, come on” Scarlett said, helping you to stand.

You sat in Scarlett’s lap in the back seat on the way home, she was lightly scratching your scalp while squeezing you gently in her arms. The exhaustion of your meltdown finally caught up with you and you fell asleep a few blocks away from your house. Colin opted to carry you back inside, he took you straight up to your bedroom while Scarlett grabbed your things. Your mom made sure your room was safe for when you woke up, she unplugged all the electronics and pulled down the black out blinds, she put your safe playlist on her phone and switched on your sensory light.

“Come here babe” Colin said with an outstretched arm, attempting to calm Scarlett’s frantic pacing. Your mom sighed as he sat on the bed, close to you but not too close. “She told me she didn’t wanna go. Why did I make her go?” The blonde whispered. “It’s not your fault babe” Colin said, tightening his grip on her hand. “I have to fix this for her” Scarlett sighed “we will, I promise” Colin sadly smiled. Your mom leant over and moved little Natasha bellow your chin, allowing more air to flow through your lungs.

It was around 30 minutes later when you woke up and you were instantly settled by the company of your parents. “Hey sweetie” Colin whispered, attempting to gauge how you were feeling. “Hi dad, hi mama” you mumbled. It was a good sign that you were verbal, your parents had got to you just in time. “I’m sorry you had to come, you were supposed to be enjoying your night” you frowned. “Hey, no, no, no, nothing is more important to us than you and your siblings okay. You needed us, so we came” Scarlett said, lightly brushing your hair. “Why doesn’t he understand me?” You cried, talking about your father. “I don’t know baby” your mom said.

You looked up to Colin with sad eyes “why isn’t he like you? I wish you were my dad” you sniffled. “I am your dad sweetie” Colin frowned with a questioning look, you had never disputed that he was your dad before. “Will you adopt me?” You suddenly asked on a whim. “Is that what you want?” Colin asked, you nodded weakly in response. “Then of course I will baby” your dad said, pulling you into a tight hug. “Looks like we have a lot to talk about” Scarlett smiled, shuffling closer to both of you. “I’m gonna call Ryan in the morning and we’re gonna sort out when he gets to see you, then I’m calling my lawyer because Colin’s your dad play” your mom smiled. “Okay” you whispered, pulling both of your parents into a tight cuddle.

—————————————————————————

A/N: sorry I feel like I made this more about Colin x reader instead of Scarlett but I love this fic so much!

- Astara Bell

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[Taglist]

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nev-valkyriesdottir / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @acciowriting / @hatergirl-69 / @lovelyy-moonlight / @escapereality4music / @jizzuo308 ?/ @imjustvibingsworld / @ciaoooooo111 / @fxckmiup / @natbelovasblog

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[littlebumblebeesstuff]

Picture Board - Cg!Bucky x GN!reader

Summary: Bucky looks after his nonverbal little.

Warning: Neurodivergent little reader. Mentions of sensory issues, nonverbal communication. Mention of pull-ups

It had been a looong morning.

You had been up and down through the night which left you tired and fussy.

And then you hated all your clothes- screaming and crying as Bucky offered you different options. It hurt him to see you struggling with emotions that were just too big for your little body.

He was no stranger to your sensory issues, having spoken in detail about them with you when you were big.

But you just couldn't get the words to come out, which made you more upset, which led to a mini-meltdown.

It took a while, but Bucky finally managed to get you into a pull-up, and a light green fluffy oodie that had frogs on it. Matching fluffy socks were on your feet.

You had slept through most of the morning and into early afternoon, so now you were in your playroom, curled up on a pile of soft blankets and pillows, watching bluey with captions on, and the sound at low volume.

You had a fidget toy in your hands as you watched your cartoon, finally settled after a hard morning.

"Hi, pumpkin, do you need something?"

Bucky smiles widely as he crouched down to your level, watching as you played with your fidget toy.

You hum softly around your paci in response, not looking up at your Baba. He didn't mind this, knowing that eye contact could make you uncomfortable.

"Can you use your words?" When you shake your head Bucky follows up with, "Are words too much right now? That’s okay, little one, sometimes words are just too big."

He shifts and watches you fondly, thinking about how to make sure you are able to communicate with him

"Can you write it down?"

Another head shake, "No? Okay let me go get your picture board."

He gets up and moves across the colourful room to the chest of drawers and opens the top drawer to take out the picture board and extra cards.

He swiftly moves back to your side and kneels down again, holding the board out to you.

"Here you go, sweetheart. Can you point to what you’d like"

Your eyes move away from your fidget toy and to the board. Looking over the icons you point to the picture of a juice box.

"Juice? Of course, honey! We have blackcurrant, orange, or apple, which would you like? You can just hold up 1, 2, or 3 fingers."

You hum softly again, this time as you think about what juice you want. Then you hold up 3 fingers.

"Three? Apple juice it is. I’ll go fill up your sippy. Anything else?"

Bucky smiles as you nod.

"Yup, just point to the picture for me."

Bucky waits patiently as you point to the picture board.

"A hug? Oh pumpkin, of course you can get a hug, come here. You’re my sweet little one, and I love you so much!"