▌  𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄.
BULLSHIT - connie springer .
𝟢𝟢𝟧.  人の口 | rumors PART ONE

NY, NEW YORK CITY
𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁 𝟤𝟣
4:30 pm

narrative.
࣪𓏲ּ.ೃ࿐               LIGHTS AND CAMERAS REFLECTED against your black shades— too many things were being shoved into your face. the multiple sounds of buttons clicks overlapp as paparazzi bombards you with a bunch of questions about anything that they could possibly ask.

security guards basically glued to your hips, and you genuinely try to hide your obvious annoyance. otherwise, they'd definitely use it against you. most likely they'll snap a picture and make a bunch of articles— tuh, even the shade room would get in on it.

eventually, you decided to just give them something, anything so they would tone down a bit, and flashed a small smile. at the same time you are shielding your eyes from the painful light strobes. these glasses are genuinely a good for nothing and a waste of money, you thought irritatedly as you strolled down the red carpet, resisting the urge to bite your lips so you wouldn't ruin your makeup.

it has been two weeks. just two weeks since your entire record label went behind your back and partnered with connie fucking springer— somebody who you utterly despised.

throughout that entire period you had to resist the urge to wrap your hands around his tatted throat and literally strangle him to death. vile thoughts swirled through your mind every time you two interacted.

there has been so much s̶e̶x̶u̶a̶l̶ tension between the both of you, it was almost pitiful. when you looked at him, your heart burned, but you weren't sure if it was in a good way. you hoped not.

constance is tempting, and he knows it. but that doesn't change a thing. you both would still argue, would still make slick comments and sometimes it'd get out of hand. he looks at you with just as much disgust. but deep down, he has some sort of consciousness that was just screaming your name. was it lust? connie just couldn't put his finger on it.

tuh, anyways.

just yesterday, you flew out to new york to attend fashion week after working non-stop on your upcoming album. fortunately, nobody was really expecting it from the neither of you. so when this album is finally released people could leave you alone. but unfortunately, connie would also be attending fashion week.

strike me down, please.

a five star hotel was booked for you, and you pray to whatever god that was listening, hoping that he wouldn't coincidentally be staying at the same place.

"what are you wearing tonight?" one of the journalists question as they inch and wave a microphone towards you. your glossy lips curl up into a smile, trying to give them your utmost attention despite your fast stroll.

"chrome hearts." you blurt.

"beautiful! enjoy your evening, miss m/n."

"m/n! is it true that you and connie are involved?" excuse me?

"is it true that you & connie really had sexual relations in that club?" . . . what?

"are you the one who connie got leaked with?" wait—

"are there any upcoming projects that we should be looking forward to?" . . .

the amount of sheer restraint and control it took for you to not show any signs or emotions of any of those assumptions being true, man. every word they said had you clutching your pearls. genuinely, what the fuck. who gave them the right mind to ask those silly ass questions? you were truly gagged.

and when the hell did connie get leaked? as in, sex tape leaked?!

dawg.

BULLSHIT
beastaarz

( neicy speaking: )
question of the chapter #2
not necessarily a q but rlly a prompt i seen on ig.
describe yourself without using ur race, gender,
or your name! :) . . i wanna get to know y'all !

btw this ws short bc i wanted 2 give ya a lil smth
fa now. hence, "part one." life is kinda shitty but
a yn still breathing.