#fvckluca

felicity: that means booty call...in case u didn't get the memo.

ever since she returned from bora bora, she had been on austen damage control - meeting with lawyers, paying off media outlets and tabloids that were writing stories about how the sinclair girl was absolutely off the rails and trying to figure out what on earth she was going to do with her daughter. and although the arrest certainly was taking up most of her time, she didn’t forget about the sex tape. her lawyers called luca to meet her in a private room of a coffee shop. persephone making her way in the back entrance as she approached the table, sitting across from him, sunglasses sliding up to her head as arms folded tightly against her chest. “you know, i wasn’t born yesterday.” she said, taking a sip from the water that was placed in front of her. “and i came up in the early two-thousands, were sex tape leaks were quite common. but in today’s world? a tape being leaked practically right after it was filmed, i don’t buy it.” she said, glass being placed back down onto the table. “so tell me, luca, who leaked the tape?”

he reluctantly accepted when luca’s agent called him to take new headshots of the male and as the shoot progressed, presley realized it had been one of his greatest mistakes to date. “oh, for fuck’s sake.” he said with a groan of frustration, putting his camera down as he rubbed his face. “listen kid, you’re not shooting vogue, you’re not on the runway so enough with the poses and the flexing. these are headshots, alright? you literally just have to stand the fuck still.”