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talesofesther · 1 year

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I guess that's love

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Wednesday sees herself stuck in the memory of one night; the night you almost died. She feels it's her fault, your blood on her hands says as much.

A/N: This is loosely based on Can't Pretend by Tom Odell and After Hours by The Weeknd which was suggested by the lovely @abelvrla. Also, I think it's valid to say that this story is mostly me having fun with some of my favorite tropes, so idk if this turned out kinda bad or similar to any of my other works; but I do hope you can enjoy it anyway. <3

Word count: 4,5k of feelings.

Masterlist

It's red. All she sees is red.

It stains the white porcelain of the sink before going down the drain.

Blood never bothered Wednesday, one could say she enjoyed the sight of it.

Now, she's almost rubbing her hands raw. It's a hurried motion, she brushes the soap over her palm with urgency, clawing at her own skin under the running water; yet it's still there.

She feels a little nauseated. Maybe it's because her breathing is all over the place. Sometimes too fast; sometimes not fast enough, clogged up in her throat.

She washes. And washes. And… keeps washing. The skin of her hands becomes reddish. The blood — your blood — eventually, finally fades.

But does it really? Wednesday feels the stain to be permanent.

Looking down at her hands — her vision a little blurry but she doesn't think about that — she catches herself shaking. Her chest is impossibly tight, it hurts to feel the beating of her own heart.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to dread your death?

She's disoriented when she exits the bathroom, not registering immediately where she is. The white walls of the hospital hurt her eyes.

It's been such a long night.

Is it still night?

The tie around Wednesday's neck seems to be choking her. She reaches her hands up to loosen it, but the feeling doesn't go away. She discards the garment altogether.

That's when she notices the blood stains on the cuffs of her white shirt. She curses under her breath. She wants to throw up. Or change out of these ruined clothes, but it feels like a waste of time.

"…nesday? Wednesday!"

She looks up upon hearing the calls of her name, only to see Principal Weems regarding her with evident worry. She's a little paler than usual, the night definitely hasn't been kind to her either.

There are only a few doctors walking around, some of them give Wednesday a strange look as they pass her by. A pungent smell of disinfectant hangs in the air. The sky outside the window bleeds in soft shades of dark purple and orange — the sun is already rising to a new day.

"You need to get checked out too, follow me." Weems reaches out to Wednesday's shoulder, trying to guide her to an empty room.

Wednesday ignores it, shrugging off the hand on her shoulder. "Where is she?"

Weems avoids her eyes then, sighing exasperatedly because she knows arguing will lead her nowhere; "she's being treated, we'll be able to see her soon."

"I want to see her now," Wednesday states, before walking past Larissa without even knowing which door she should go to.

"She's in surgery, miss Addams," Weems insists, finality in her tone. "We'll only make things worse going there now."

It's funny, how you've always told Wednesday she should put herself out there more, not be afraid to feel or let people close. Yet now you only prove her right in her reasoning that emotions only exist to torture people. Not in a good way.

But she did it anyway, didn't she?

She allowed herself to feel things.

Wednesday is frozen to the pristine tiles, her nails almost piercing her skin as she clenches her fists.

"I'm worried too, but all we can do now is wait," Weems softens once she notices the shaking of Wednesday's body. She takes a careful step closer to the girl, "if you don't want to see a doctor come back to the school with me, take a shower, put some clean clothes on. I'll drive you back when we're allowed to see her."

—

The warm water soothed Wednesday's muscles, it washed away the dried blood from her hair and the dirt clinging to her skin. It was relieving.

She's now standing in front of the bathroom mirror and the reflection staring back at her is not one she easily recognizes. Her skin looks paler than usual — if that's even possible — there are dark circles around her eyes and even she has to admit she looks exhausted.

Wednesday reaches a hand to touch her abdomen, nimble fingers tracing the spot that should be ripped open but isn't. Not even a scar remains; no telltales that she had been stabbed just a few hours ago.

She shivers at the thought. Death's cold embrace is a little more taunting when seen up close.

For a fleeting second, Wednesday catches herself planning to go to your room — as she usually did most nights before she pushed you away. She would sit beside you on your bed, her shoulder would brush yours and she'd comment about how you could even sleep in a bed this small, yet she wouldn't pull away. She'd talk with you about how good it felt to drive a knife into the old pilgrim's heart. Maybe she'd even tell you she had been scared. Maybe you'd try to hold her hand and she'd let you, gripping you tighter than she should.

Your comfort was Wednesday's most prized secret. You were her favorite broken rule.

The salty taste of a tear on her lips brings Wednesday back to reality. The reality where she doesn't have a single scar on her body and you're in a hospital bed fighting to stay alive.

She dries her cheeks harshly, turning around to put on her sweater and dark pants.

—

It's 6 PM when Principal Weems brings her back to the hospital and Wednesday is finally allowed into your room.

There's a stillness to it that she hates. You are too still. Several tubes are attached to your body as you lay on the hospital bed, there are bandages around your torso, some of them faintly tainted red. The machine that tracks your heartbeat is beeping in a lazy rhythm.

Wednesday doesn't dare breathe as she walks closer, stopping right beside you so she can cast over each scrape on your skin.

There was too much blood loss, Weems had told her moments ago. Wednesday knew that, she was the one who kept what was left of your blood inside your body until the ridiculously slow help finally arrived.

Weems also told her the bullet was short of doing major damage, and that despite now being weak, you were lucky and should wake up within a few days.

It does absolutely nothing to set Wednesday's heart at ease.

You're too still.

She can barely see your chest moving with the soft breathing. Your features are so serene, so emotionless. She could say you're dead if she didn't know any better.

Wednesday doesn't move for several moments, it's almost as if she's afraid to. She holds herself stiff at your side, glaring at you as if you'd wake up only to hear her scolding.

She hates that this is the first time she's been this close to you, in what? Two or three weeks?

It feels unfair, unfitting. Like it's all wrong.

But she can't complain. It's her fault.

A vain attempt at keeping you safe. Maybe it only made things worse;

—

"You know, as far as dates go, this is pretty creative," you told her, dodging fallen logs and rocks as you walked amongst the woods.

Wednesday turned back to look at you with an unreadable expression, "no one said this was a date."

"What would you call it then?"

"Investigating."

You groaned, falling into step beside Wednesday. Just so you could see the heavenly way the moonlight shaped her features. There was fog in the cold air, trees nothing but dark silhouettes around you; it suited her. "You're no fun."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Wednesday felt your hand brushing hers. She hated how it made her focus waver. "Besides, you're the one who agreed to accompany me."

"Of course I did," you explained easily, "you asked me to."

Wednesday gulped, things felt more intimate than they should when the only witnesses around you are trees.

"Why was that?" You dared take hold of her hand then, your cold fingertips closing around her own. She stopped abruptly, and you observed the way her shoulders tensed. "You say you don't need anyone, yet here I am."

Wednesday's breath turned shallow, she didn't feel like looking at you. Because you were right, it was a break in her pattern; her rules.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to break her rules?

You came to stand before her, your other hand taking hold of her free one so you could pull her closer. And she let you. Another step and any left space between you will vanish.

"Why won't you tell me?" You asked for what felt like the millionth time, but you didn't really hope for an answer.

You're familiar with her. She allows you close; you hold her hand, you touch her cheek, you braid her hair. Yet she never tells you why she allows you to do it.

Wednesday kept her eyes focused somewhere on your lips, counting the specks of color there, still as a corpse.

She saw the ghost of a smile that came to your lips before you leaned closer. And alarms were blaring inside her head, her lungs aching because of how she refused to breathe; yet she didn't move away.

You kissed her softly, gently. Your lips mapped hers in a way that felt like it always should've been.

And she melted against you, her hands clutching yous.

But as all things do, as Goody warned her time and time again; it didn't last. Shockwaves cursed through Wednesday's body and she was taken to another reality.

A reality where you were screaming her name in one second, and the next you were laying on the dirty ground, a pool of blood forming under you.

Wednesday jumped away from you the second she came back to herself, her eyes wide and breathing frantically as she strived to not pass out from what she'd just witnessed in her mind.

You were speaking, trying to reach out for her again as you asked what was wrong.

Wednesday felt her eyes sting, all she could see was your blood on her hands.

—

Her vision from that night came back in the form of nightmares for many nights after. Getting Wednesday to start dreading sleep.

She remembers warning you to never come near her again just before she sprinted away, leaving you alone in the woods with no further explanation. She avoided you, accepting the fact you might hate her, but it was okay because you'd be doing it alive.

All in vain, because her vision became a reality anyway.

"How could you be so stupid?" Wednesday tells you, but only the hospital walls hear it. "Jumping in front of me like that, it was ridiculous. Don't you see it? That's why you should've stayed away."

It's useless, you won't wake up to hear her complaints.

Wednesday exhales sharply and turns away from you, "it shouldn't have happened, I tried to-" There's a lump in her throat, it tangles her words, "but you're so stubborn… If you die before me, I'll kill you, I will-"

I don't know what I'll do. Wednesday thinks to herself. She sits on the chair that's beside your bed, watching through the window as the sun hides behind Jericho's mountains.

"You're missing your stupid sunset," Wednesday finds herself whispering. A last attempt at getting you to open your eyes, because for some reason, you liked to see the ending of sunny days.

Nothing happens. You remain still. The beeping tracking your heart rate is still slow. The room remains too quiet.

Wednesday leans back on her chair, she stays motionless for several minutes; until her hand eventually finds you.

Wednesday wraps her fingers around the pulse point on your wrist, not trusting the machine to tell her you're not dead yet.

She holds tightly onto you. There's no one around to witness it.

—

You didn't wake up for four days. And every day, without failure, Wednesday came to see you. She'd sit beside your bed and wait, sometimes silent, sometimes speaking as if you'd talk back to her.

It was her own way of keeping herself calm, busy.

Though the sleepless nights were starting to take a toll on her; sour mood and thinner patience being her new normal, along with the dark circles around her eyes.

Every time she closes her eyes, she's back there — warm blood on her hands and your life slipping from her grasp — so she refuses to do it.

Enid has seen her roommate nap hunched over her desk too many times to not get worried, but with being shut out every time she asked what she could do to help, she eventually stopped.

Wednesday could hate you for messing up her life.

She doesn't.

—

The day you woke up, Wednesday was nowhere to be seen.

All of your friends came to see you, overwhelming you with love and tales about how each of them missed a part of you in their lives.

You felt sore all over, as if you'd been hit by a truck — getting shot then staying unconscious in bed for days will do that to someone, you figured.

Enid was the one who stayed to accompany you back to school when you were discharged from the hospital, along with Principal Weems, of course.

"It feels like I'm learning to walk all over again," you groaned, one hand coming up to clutch at your abdomen as you got to your feet.

"Take it slow, we've got time," Enid kindly held a hand out for you, which you promptly took.

There are a million questions swimming in your mind, losing these many days from your life feels strange. You halted but the world didn't.

You asked the one that you first thought of when you woke up; "Enid," you stop walking so you can look into her eyes, "how is Wednesday? Did she got hurt?"

A complicated array of emotions pass through Enid's features, too fast for you to put your finger on any of them. She looks at you with something akin to sympathy; "she's… fine." Enid chews on her bottom lip, pondering whether she should tell you or not. Naturally, she can't hold back, "she hasn't left your bedside once."

You must have looked rather surprised, because Enid keeps going; "it's true, there wasn't a day that she didn't come to see you."

You don't know how you should feel. You think it's unhealthy for your heart to be beating as fast as it is right now after what you've just been through, but you can't get it to slow down, not when such a bomb is dropped on you.

Almost a month ago, Wednesday told you to never come near her again. Today, Enid tells you she's been by your side this whole time.

"Why?" You ask.

Enid doesn't know the answer.

—

It feels like a fever dream. Your bullet wound, the hospital visits, the remains of the fight. Everything. It feels like it didn't happen.

Because when you got back to Nevermore, everything was back to how it was. The damage to the school was repaired, classes were steadily going back to being routine, and Wednesday hasn't looked in your mere direction once — she, being the epitome of healthy coping mechanisms and dealing with feelings, avoids you like the plague.

You asked Enid to tell Wednesday that your door was open if she ever wished to talk.

Several days have gone by already and she hasn't taken you up on your offer.

You walk out of the cafeteria with a heavy heart and twirling an apple in your hand. You miss her. You hate how your days still feel hollow without Wednesday's presence on them, it's weird because she's not the type of person who usually makes her presence known; but you miss the weight of her shoulder resting against yours, the familiar comfortable silence you'd share when only enjoying each other's existence while reading.

It's a grey day outside. You see her before you see anything else when you walk into the quad. She has her back to you, black braids haphazardly done falling over her shoulders as she sits with Enid on one of the tables.

The werewolf notices you and waves you over, an encouraging smile on her lips. You give her a look that shows your uncertainty, but she insists.

You take a deep breath and follow the stone path that leads to her table. There's a limp on your steps still, telltales of the fight; sometimes you feel the eyes of your peers lingering on you. You wonder what they're thinking about, what they see when they look at you. A brave hero or a stupid kid?

What do they see when they look at her? A lonely, unfortunate soul or the savior of the school?

You sit down beside Enid, consequently in front of Wednesday, your hands resting in your lap as your knee goes up and down anxiously.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Enid greets you happily, as if there isn't a tension thick enough to cut through in the air.

The question almost goes over your head. You're focusing on the Addams girl in front of you, on the way her knuckles suddenly go white as she grips the lunch tray like her life depends on it.

"I'm alright," you answer, eyes fixed on Wednesday — she holds you in a trance.

"I've been meaning to ask if you have the notes from our last class?" Enid continues, in a kind effort to make things less complicated.

"I uh-" you start, but cut yourself off when Wednesday hastily gets up from her seat, not sparing you a glance as she turns around and walks away.

You watch her retreating figure, the ends of her skirt bouncing with her steps. With a groan, you begrudgingly take a bite from your apple, "there's no figuring her out, I'm done," you mumble over your mouthful.

Though you're not sure if you truly mean it.

"Don't say that," Enid pouts, keeping her eyes on Wednesday until she disappears through the doors that lead inside the school.

"She made it explicitly clear she wants nothing to do with me, Enid," you shrug, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips, "I think it's my fault anyway, so… I won't bother her anymore."

Enid turns, straddling the bench she's sitting on so she can fully face you; "what do you mean?"

You breathe in deeply, feeling the familiar flutter in your stomach just thinking about it. "A few weeks before all that shit happened, we shared a- a moment."

Enid instantly smiles, her eyes twinkling with excitement, "you kissed?"

You chuckle timidly, smiling along with the memory, "yeah," but your gaze dropped to your hands right after. "I think it was a mistake."

"I doubt it," Enid tells you confidently then, as if she's in on a secret you're not.

You raise an eyebrow at her.

Enid glances between you and the door that Wednesday had disappeared into, tasting the words on her tongue before she spills them over for you. She breathes in, and relents; "after you passed out…" she gulps, dreadful memory still fresh, "right after you got shot, from the blood loss. Wednesday, she- I never saw her so desperate."

Only from the emotions swimming in Enid's eyes, you could tell she was being honest. You couldn't help the tightness in your chest upon imagining Wednesday going through that.

"It was almost as if she knew you wouldn't make it, that you wouldn't survive," Enid keeps going, "or at least that's what she believed in."

Clarity shoots through you like a bullet as your eyes widened with the words. Ironic much, but that was the feeling.

Because there was a possibility, that Wednesday saw your misfortune before it even happened. Right when you kissed her, no less.

And if that was the case, you couldn't imagine the torment she's been under ever since.

—

The night is calm, you can see clouds shaping the moon as you walk the path outside that leads to Ophelia Hall. It's a little late, just past curfew but you prefer it that way — fewer people around, the hallways will be empty.

It's a struggle for you to walk up the stairs, you have to stop once to catch your breath and allow the nagging pain that shoots up your leg to subside. Details. Tonight feels important, because you're going to see her; you'll make sure of it, even if she insists otherwise.

You stop in front of the dark wooden door. If you strain your ears, you can hear the faint noise of her typewriter. Enid isn't there, you know she's at Yoko's room tonight — her idea, not yours. Privacy is important, she told you, right after all but commanding you to do what you're doing.

With a deep breath in and feeling more nervous than you thought you would, you raise your fist, and knock.

The typing noise stops, you hear her chair scratching the floor. You couldn't breathe even if you tried.

The door pulls open and your heart melts a little at the sight; Wednesday stands in front of you with a hoodie and sweatpants on, and her hair free of braids, clearly not expecting anyone to show up at this hour.

You're snapped out of your trance when you register the door closing again. You quickly hold it open with your hand; "hear me out, please."

"No," Wednesday huffs, "I told you to stay away."

"Yeah, and not much else," you push through, squeezing your way inside her room and closing the door behind you. Wednesday takes a big step back as if you'd burn her. It hurts. "Could've given me a reason."

With a deep breath in, Wednesday sets her jaw tight, "I don't owe you anything."

You avoid her eyes then, "maybe not, but I thought we had-"

"We didn't," Wednesday tells you, the shake of her voice makes you look up, and you think you see her eyes glistening, "we don't."

You nod slowly, and despite the bleeding of your heart, you speak softly; "did you see it?" You chew on the inside of your cheek, fumbling with your hands so they don't tremble, "that night, you had a vision didn't you? About what happened to me?"

There's a sudden stillness to the room that feels awfully familiar to Wednesday. She hates the way she can't seem to control her breathing pattern, she hates that the image of you in front of her is becoming blurry.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me? Because I got hurt?"

Your words urge Wednesday's mind to travel back to that night. She closes her eyes tightly, causing a tear to roll down her cheek and part of her wants to kick you out of the room for making that happen.

"You're a liability," she tells you the first thing her mind conjures up.

You chuckle humourlessly, "ouch, considering I saved your life that's-"

"Exactly the problem." Wednesday interrupts urgently, "are you stupid? If you insist on staying close to me you'll only hurt yourself." Her voice breaks at the end of the sentence, as if it caused her physical pain to speak.

You've never heard her this vulnerable, this scared. Your heart bleeds but for a different reason; for the affection you hold for her, for not being able to protect her from what happened. You take a step further towards her and breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn't take one away from you. "And what if staying away hurts me just as much? What then?"

It's quiet. Wednesday doesn't make a single sound. All you see are her cheeks slowly being stained with tear tracks as they roll all the way down to her chin and drip to the floor, her eyebrows scrunching in hurt. But she's so quiet.

You take one more step. "Tell me why."

A beat of silence, and then; "you made me… care about you and then you go and almost die." Wednesday chokes out angrily.

You smile sadly, finally hearing the words you've been chasing; though you'd prefer them in better circumstances, "caring about people can be… scary."

You don't think she registered that you were so close. Wednesday flinches when your hand touches hers, it's a ghost of a touch, barely there, yet it feels almost like an embrace.

"But I promise you, I'm not going anywhere," you say quietly, tears pooling at the bottom lid of your eyes as you carefully hold her hand properly.

Wednesday is frozen in place, it feels like someone reached past her ribs and is squeezing the organ that pumps her blood. She hates that she must look like a mess, yet this is the first time in weeks that she feels she can actually breathe. Part of her has been stuck on that night — hands stained with your blood as the paramedics take you away from her — until now.

Her fingers tentatively close around yours, her lips part and she struggles a little to get the words out, "it's not a promise you can keep."

"I can try," you whisper. You see it clearly in her eyes; the guilt she's been carrying. "What happened that night, it wasn't your fault, you have to know that, Wednesday."

"It was because of me," she reasons just as quietly, "and almost took you from me."

Goosebumps raise on your skin at her words. Your thumb gently traces her hand. It's private, it's delicate, it's a moment that belongs to you two only. "It'll take more than a bullet for you to get rid of me," you tease with a tearful grin.

Slowly, you bring her hand up so it rests over your chest; her palm flush with your skin as your heart beats rhythmically right underneath it. "I'm right here," you breathe.

It's all it takes for her to, finally, surrender. Wednesday stumbles forward, and you're there to catch her. Her head rests on your shoulder and her hands clutch at the fabric of your shirt to the point of ripping. You encircle your own arms around her waist, pressing her tightly to you.

Wednesday is still mostly quiet, the only thing you can hear if you focus hard enough is the occasional hitch of her breath. But you feel the way her tears soak your shirt, the way her body trembles as she gives her all to contain her sobs.

"There was… so much blood," is all she tells you, words muffled against your skin.

"I know," you slide one of your hands up to her head, entangling your fingers through her hair, "I'm so sorry it had to be you." You plant several kisses on her temple and on her hair, each one is a different promise.

I'm here.

I won't leave.

My blood will never be in your hands again.

You think she understands, because you feel her own lips brushing the skin of your shoulder; cold, damp with tears. Tender.

I love you.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany

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star-eyed-angels · 3 months

Text

Last Hope

Mafia!Hongjoong x gn nurse!reader

angst, fluff 4.2k

TW: mentions of blood, bullets, surgery, violence, swearing

Please read at your own discretion.

Where Hongjoong can’t think of anything else except to call you.

AN: heavily inspired by Atlantis by Seafret and Another Love by Tom Odell

_______

The dim room is filled with beeps and heavy breathing. Yeosang stands in front of a makeshift operating table. His sleeves rolled up past his elbow, and clothes covered in blood. Some of the blood belongs to him, but most of it belongs to Wooyoung who lays unconscious on the table. Yeosang frowns as he tries to stay focused on wooyoung in front of him. On the opposite side of the table, Hongjoong paces in front of them. His own clothes covered in blood, a frown etched onto his face.

Seonghwa hurries into the room, looking a mix of exhausted and concerned. Hongjoong barely spares him a glance, “How is he?”, he asks quickly. Yeosang swears under his breath, drawing the attention of the other two.

“I can't save him!” Yeosang curses from his spot in front of the table. Hongjoong freezes, turning to face yeosang. He glances up briefly at Hongjoong before turning his attention back to Wooyoung. He growls in frustration as he continues to operate on Wooyoung, the beeping of the monitors next to him growing more erratic.

“What do you mean you can't?” Hongjoong demands, stepping towards the table. Yeosang pauses, yanking the mask down from under his chin.

“I mean that I'm doing everything I can and even if by some fucking miracle I pull this off there's no telling if he'll wake up again,” Yeosang shouts. The room falls silent as the reality sets in. Yeosang shakes his head, doing his best to keep calm.

“I'm sorry hyung. He's too far gone,” he says solemnly. Hongjoong shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he thinks. Seonghwa watches him, seeing the thoughts racing through hongjoong’s mind.

“Joong,” he reaches his hand out to grab him. Hongjoong’s eyes widen, suddenly turning to Yeosang.

“Can you keep him alive?” he asks suddenly. Seonghwa and Yeosang both give him confused looks.

“What?” Seonghwa finally asks.

“Can you keep him alive?,” he repeats, emphasizing each word. Yeosang blinks at him, before glancing towards Seonghwa. He nods slowly, still unsure of everything.

“If Seonghwa helps, probably,” Yeosang starts, “but i don't see how-”

“Do it. keep him alive,” Hongjoong cuts in, turning towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Seonghwa asks, already moving to help Yeosang. Hongjoong doesn’t bother looking back, simply pulling out his phone as he walks.

“To make a phone call,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing out the door. Seonghwa and Yeosang both give each other looks of worry before moving to help Wooyoung.

_________

Your room is dark as you lay in bed after your night shift. The hospital being understaffed making your shifts busier than normal. The second you came home, you'd gone straight to bed, only bothering to throw off your uniform. You’re halfway to falling asleep when your phone starts ringing. You frown, reaching over to check your phone. The number isn’t saved, but you recognize the area code immediately. Hesitantly you accept the call.

“Hello?” you ask softly.

“It’s me.”

After all this time Hongjoong’s voice sends a fluttering feeling through you. You’re so distracted by hearing his voice for the first time in so long you forget to respond.

“I know what we talked about, but… But I need you,” his voice desperate.

“Hongjoong, what are you-” Hongjoong cuts you off before you can finish.

“Wooyoung- he,” his voice wavers as he chokes back tears. You sit up in bed, now wide awake. Months have passed, but you know the sound of his voice when he's doing everything he can to keep himself together. Despite the time spent apart you still pick up on his little cues.

“Hongjoong?” you say, already getting you up to get dressed. A moment passes before he speaks again.

“Please. You’re the only one that can save him.”

“I’m on my way.” You end the call before he can say anything else. You’re dressed and out the door without a second thought, snatching your keys from the table as you race out the front door.

You thank whatever is having mercy on you as you drive for not giving you a single red light. The drive to the house is still ingrained in your mind as you speed through the empty streets, going far faster than you should be. The house looks the same as you pull into the driveway. The longing you normally shove away comes back to bite you as you stare at the house. You can still trace the floor plan in your head. Memories of you hongjoong and your friends seeping through the wall you built up. A big part of you wishes you’d come back under different circumstances. But you know better.

Having the notorious Kim Hongjoong in your life came with a price. Tonight, it means swallowing the feelings you spent so long trying to bury. You shut off your car, walking towards the front door. You don’t bother knocking as you unlock the door with the spare, never having taken it off your keys.

Hongjoong is pacing the foyer as you open the door. He turns to look at you. You do your best not to comment on how exhausted he looks. His disheveled appearance makes your worry grow as you step into the house.

“Y/n,” he says, both shocked and relieved that you showed up. Despite the urge to stop and talk to him, you push it back. There will be time to talk later.

“Where is he?” you ask as you close the door.

“Yeosang has him,” he says quickly. You walk straight towards the infirmary, not bothering to wait for Hongjoong. He follows you wordlessly, not surprised that you don’t spare him a second glance at a time like this. It’s why he called you after all.

You throw open the door of the makeshift infirmary to be greeted by Wooyoung on the table and Yeosang covered in far too much blood. Yeosang glances up briefly, before doing a double take. A look of relief flooding his features at the sight of you.

“y/n?” he asks, voice muffled slightly through his mask. You step into the room with Hongjoong hot on your heels.

“Fill me in. How is he?” you ask as you make your way towards the table.

“He’s barely hanging in there, Hwa hyung helped me clamp everything off, but he doesn’t-” Yeosang chokes back his words, giving you a watery look.

You nod at him, starting to roll your sleeves farther up your arm.

“Okay. Let’s do this, yeah?” you say softly. Yeosang lets out a ragged breath as he nods. You give him a small smile, before turning towards Hongjoong.

“You, out,” you say firmly. Hongjoong looks shocked as you look between him and the door.

“What? No. I’m staying here.”

You cross your arms in front of you, frowning at him. “No. You aren’t. This isn’t up for debate.”

Hongjoong crosses his arms, wincing slightly, your gaze flicks down to his arm quickly before you look back up. You find hongjoong already staring you down, standing his ground. Yeosang sighs, already knowing what’s coming. The only other person who could rival hongjoong’s commanding nature was you. You’d never been phased by his attitude. While many submit to Hongjoong’s dominating presence, you never wavered. You chose to walk directly into the fire and give it straight back to him. That still stands as you raise an eyebrow at him, your gaze hardening instantly.

“I’ll have Yunho drag you out if I have to,” you threaten, matching Hongjoong’s energy easily.

“He’s busy with San,” Yeosang calls out.

You whip around to look at him. “What happened to San,” you ask, your heart dropping.

Hongjoong shakes his head, he can still pick up on your cues as well. “He’s fine, a bullet to the leg. He’ll be fine,” Hongjoong is quick to ease your worry. Even when arguing he’d do anything to wipe your worries away. You frown turning back to hongjoong as he stares back you, unwilling to budge.

“Dammit Hongjoong just go!” you say.

“I need to make sure he’s okay.”

“And I need to make sure he lives.”

There’s a brief moment of silence as you continue your stare off.

“You can’t ask me to leave. Not when he’s like this,” Hongjoong looks at Wooyoung trying to step forward.

“I’m not. I’m telling you” - you take a step towards him. “I’m not gonna operate on him with you in the room.” Hongjoong’s eyes water as he keeps glancing towards where Wooyoung is. His lip trembling, fear laced into his features.

“Y/n I can’t leave him, he-” Hongjoong chokes on his words. You grab his hand before you think, forcing his attention on you. His gaze snaps towards you, like you’ve pulled him out of his own trance.

“I know, joong. I know. Wooyoung is my family too,” you say softly. Hongjoong looks into your eyes, watching as you blink back your own tears.

“We’ve got him okay? I’m gonna do everything I can to save him, you have my word,” -you squeeze his hand gently, even as your voice wavers- “But I can’t do this with you in here. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

His heart squeezes at the sight of your pain. Of course your heart aches as much as his in this moment. How could he forget? After all you were the one to sit and patch them up while you reprimanded them for being so reckless. No matter how upset you were, each and every time they came home battered and bruised, you would wait with your kit in hand, ready to scold them while you did it.

Even now that hasn’t changed. While you may not be scolding him yet, he knows it will come eventually. For now there’s a job to be done in the form of saving Wooyoung. And while many could try he trusts no one but you to get that job done. Hongjoong finally nods, sparing one last glance at Wooyoung before leaving, rushing off to sans room. You wait until the door clicks shut behind him before turning to Yeosang.

“Yeosang, where are we at?” You step towards the table once again, putting your focus on your patient. You grab a mask from the tray, covering your mouth as you stand near the table.

“I’ve counted at least nine rounds in him. I’m working in the stomach now, but he’s already lost so much blood…” he explains, “There’s just too much, he’s bleeding faster than my hands can work.”

You nod, glancing down at where Yeosang works. Your mind is already forming a plan as you scan over Wooyoung’s wounds. You grab gloves from the stand off to the side, pulling them on smoothly.

“We’ll need another person to do this quickly. Where’s Hwa?” You say turning towards the door. Yeosang is about to answer when the man himself enters the room.

“Caught joong on the way out of San’s room. Figured you’d need as many hands as you can get,”he says, pulling on gloves of his own.

“Where do you need me?” He says, pulling on a surgical mask quickly.

“Help me with his chest. Stitch and go,” you direct, already pulling up your own mask. They’re quick to follow your orders. The unspoken trust they have in you is as clear as day. They know just as well as Hongjoong does that you’re the only person for this task.

_________

Hongjoong is sitting in his office. The clock on his desk blinking 4:50 a.m. in angry red lights. He’s beyond tired. His eyes are protesting with him to sleep. But he’ll be damned if he sleeps before he knows if Wooyoung is okay. He shoots up from his desk when the door opens. You walk in, dried blood staining your clothes, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Wooyoung-” he starts, before you’ve fully stepped into the room.

“Is sleeping,” you cut him off quickly. Hongjoong lets out a sigh of relief. You shut the door lightly, continuing towards his desk.

“He’s gonna have a hell of a recovery, but he’s woo. He’ll be okay,” you say.

“And Yeosang?,” he’s quick to add. You wave your hand dismissively.

“Staying in Woo’s room with the promise to at least lay down,” you start to explain. Hongjoong sags against his desk slightly, looking at you in awe.

“Already sent Hwa off to bed too. Stopped by Sannie’s room and checked his stitches, they’re seamless. Barely will leave a scar, much to his disappointment no doubt,” you explain. You shake your head as the thought of San’s pouting crosses your mind.

“Yunho learned from the best…” he says matter of factly.

“That he did,” You chuckle, leaning against the cushioned chair on the opposite side of Hongjoong’s desk. You groan quietly, rolling your neck as your joints click quietly.

Hoonjoong winces, once again reminded of just how drained you look.

“Listen y/n, I’m sorry- I know it was late when I called and-” you look up, also taking in Hongjoong’s appearance. You squint at his arm, remembering how he winced earlier in the infirmary.

“Roll up your sleeve,” you cut him off. He pauses, giving you a look.

“What?,” he glances down towards himself.

“Let me see your arm,” you repeat.

“My arm is fine,” he says, too quickly.

You roll your eyes, raising an eyebrow at him. Of course he’d never want to admit to anyone that he was hurt. But you’re not just anyone.

“Is that why you’re keeping it away from me? You’ve always been one to talk with your hands. but when you were arguing with me in the infirmary you kept it to yourself. But I saw the way it hurt when you crossed your arms, which is exactly how I know you’re lying to me,” you say, eyeing his arm closely.

Before Hongjoong can protest again you lunge forward, gripping his forearm with just enough pressure. He yelps in pain, grabbing your wrist on reflex. You frown, meeting his gaze.

“Roll up your damn sleeves kim hongjoong or so help me I’ll strangle you myself,” you demand. You merely raise an eyebrow, challenging him to ignore you. But of course he knows better.

He grumbles quietly as he sheepishly rolls up his sleeve, showing you the messy bloody bandage, haphazardly wrapped around his forearm. You can already tell from the color, that the large cut is deeper and will need more than this to heal.

“Fine my ass,” you mutter, gently pulling his arm towards you, “You call this a wrap joong? Did you even disinfect it?” you ask, eyes snapping towards him.

He turns his head, quickly avoiding your gaze. That’s more than enough to answer your question.

“Come on. I’ll make it quick,” you sigh, shaking your head. He quietly follows you around the desk and out the office.

_________

You’re sitting in his bed now, having sent him to change his mess of an outfit before forcing his arm under running water. You both sit against the headboard. His arm rests on the pillow propped over your lap. He watches as you stitch his wound carefully. He lets out a hiss as you pull another stitch through.

“Call it karma,” you say, not even bothering to look up from your work.

“You’re just being mean,” he huffs.

“No, you’re just stubborn,” you retort.

“That’s not fair! So are y- Ow!” he yelps, cutting himself off. You ignore him, setting your tools off to the nightstand.

“That’s the last one. Let me just clean and wrap it,” you say. He doesn’t interrupt as you start to clean his wound gently.

“You know the drill. Redress at least twice a day unless it starts getting gross. Don’t put weight on it and don’t even think about trying to itch it,” you order.

“I know, I know,” he says, rolling his eyes. He’s heard this spiel more than enough times.

He watches you quietly. Hongjoong had never thought he’d see you like this again. So attentive in your work. It brings back feelings he knew had never left, no matter how hard he tried to let go. All the words he wants to say are eating away at him. He clears his throat, preparing himself.

“Thank you… by the way. For coming tonight. I know it was late when I called. And I know we haven’t spoken but I-” he shrugs, turning shy once again, “Just- thanks. I really don’t know what we would have done without you,” he finishes softly.

“Lose your lives, that’s what,” you grumble out, keeping your head down. You do your best to blink back the burning in your eyes. The gravity of tonight’s events finally taking its toll.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” He laughs lightheartedly, shaking his head. There’s a moment of silence, where neither of you moves. You still have a gentle hold on his arm, your head tilted down. It’s only then that he notices you’re sniffling.

“Y/n?” He calls out quietly. You slowly look up at him, tears now running down your cheeks. He’s sits up in shock, at the sight of your tear stained cheeks.

“you promised,” you whisper, voice trembling.

“What?” His brain is going into panic mode, still confused as to why you’re crying. Your grip on him tightens slightly, before you let go, hastily wiping your tears away.

“When I left. You promised to be safe,” you choke out.

Hongjoong feels his heart crack at your words. Memories of your last night together flooding his mind. The fake strength and wavering smiles as you both said your final farewells. Your whispered goodbyes that night haunted him for months, He’d hoped they didn’t do the same to you. Now he knows he’d been wrong.

“y/n-” he wants to explain, to say anything. But you’re quick to cut him off.

“And then you call me tonight and I come to find all of you on the brink of death?,” you laugh, only sounding more broken, “I've seen bad, but this? I mean what the hell even happened hongjoong?.”

His own eyes burn as he takes in your broken state. He blinks back his own tears, letting out a shaky breath.

“We were making a deal over borders. The meeting was set up for tonight. There's a new group trying to climb the ranks fast. They caught wind of tonight's meeting and ambushed us on our way back,” he starts. He waits for you to stop him, to tell him you don’t want to hear it and storm out. He’d give you the out, he would never force you to stay and listen to the problems his lifestyle created. He’d let you leave and never look back if you wanted. But you weren’t that type of person and he knew that. When you give him a small nod, he continues.

“We were armed, but not enough for a turf fight. Wooyoung was at the front. He took most of the first rounds before we were firing back. We were near the car, but even then he was already bleeding so much. He was out before we even pulled onto the road,” he gives you the quick explanation of the night’s events. You let out a shaky breath.

“I was so scared Joong. He's my family. just like you and all the other boys. I know I'm not here anymore, but that doesn't stop me worrying about whether or not you idiots are taking care of yourselves.” you cry out.

Hongjoong has enough sense to pull you closer, tucking you under his arm protectively. He could care less about the stitches in his arm. The need to hold you was far more unbearable. You go willing, resting against his chest as you sniffle into his shirt.

“I know and I'm sorry. I never intended to have you in our mess. when I called you tonight I just didn't know what to do,” he admits quietly, “But I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have made you come here like this.” You shake your head, pulling away to look up at him.

“No. You should always call me,” you say, frowning at him.

“And have you worried sick? I won't put you through that sweetheart. I can't be the reason you're crying your eyes out in the middle of the night,” he says softly. He gently cups your cheek, catching the falling tears with the pad of his thumb.

“I'm not asking for your permission. I left to let you keep me safe. Even though it nearly tore me apart, I loved you too much to watch you kill yourself with guilt,” you say, softly grabbing his face. He leans into your touch easily, relaxing as he meets your gaze.

“But now look at you. Killing yourself by not letting me help,” he turns away at your words, feeling shame climb inside of him.

“You've always been prideful in everything you do, but that's just plain stupid. The hongjoong I know, knows better than that,” you turn his face back towards you, forcing him to meet your gaze. “The man I fell in love with would give his life to protect his family. So let me stay and help you make sure that never happens,” you confess softly.

His eyes turn soft at your words, his own tears finally falling. It could only be you to make the darkest part of his soul blossom with love. Your mere presence being all the hope he needed in the world. You, his saving grace and his biggest temptation all at once. He doesn’t think he could resist it even if he tried. He was a greedy man after all, in everything he did. That’s what made him the best in his line of business. So how could he not be selfish and need to have you? Especially after you say you want him too?

“My angel. always been our own personal guardian angel. Don’t know what I ever did to deserve to love you. A light so bright and good. Too fucking good for me and this damn world,” the smile on his face grows with every word. It makes your heart swoon, your watery smile mirroring his.

“My other half, my light, my life, and the only other person I've ever met who's just as stubborn as me,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. Your laugh is soft as you relax against him.

“Who else is gonna keep you all from the brink of death, hmm? Besides, from what I've heard, Hwa is just one more late night from kicking your ass,” you joke, recalling the conversation you’d had with him earlier.

“Even if he does, I'll have you to patch me up, yeah?” he giggles, pulling you closer.

“Always,” you breathe out.

“I love you. More than anything,” he says softly.

He smiles, peering at you with so much love that for a moment you don’t feel like you’re staring at a notorious gang leader. Instead you just see Kim Hongjoong, the man you fell in love with, the man that makes you feel like you’re floating just by looking at you.

“I love you too,” you say, loving the way his eyes light up at your words. He gives you the biggest smile as he tugs your face back to his, pressing your lips together in the sweetest kiss. All the time you spent apart fades away as he kisses you. Finally breaking your walls and filling his heart with the love he’d been missing.

_________

An afterthought…

“Husband, wife. Breakfast is ready,” you hear a voice utter quietly.

You peek one eye open to see Seonghwa sitting on the bed. He smiles gently at you, reaching out to pet your head.

“Morning sleepy,” he says softly.

You smile, stretching your arms as you sit up, Hongjoong’s arm still holding you as he stirs. Hongjoong groans as he feels you sit up, turning to glare at Hwa through his messy hair.

“Good morning, Gremlin,” Seonghwa says.

“Hwa. I swear to god if the time is anything before noon, I’m gonna shoot you,” Hongjoong says, voice still gruff from sleep. You stifle a giggle as you glance at your phone, seeing the screen read 11a.m. Seonghwa winks at you, moving to leave.

“Can’t shoot me if you’re still in bed Joong,” Seonghwa sing-songs. Hongjoong grumbles, chucking a pillow in the direction of where Hwa stands. The pillow misses completely, landing at his side.

“Love you too Joong. Come eat before the kids devour everything. You know they don’t believe in saving plates,” Seonghwa says before leaving the room.

You turn to look at Hongjoong who still has his eyes closed. You brush your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him.

“Come on Joongie, I know you’ll be grumpy the rest of the day if you don’t eat,” you say.

“Five more minutes, let me enjoy you before the others pester you” he says, tugging you back down with him. You laugh, letting him rest on top of you.

“Don’t worry. Even then, I’ll always find my way back to you,” You say. Kissing the top of his head. He only hums, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m glad you’re here, welcome home my love,” he says, his voice slowing as he drifts back to sleep. The grin on your face only grows, warmth filling your heart at the thought.

You are home. And there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

#hongjoong x reader #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez fluff #atz x reader #atz angst #atz fluff #ateez mafia au #writing #✍🏼

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five-rivers · 6 months

Text

Under Control

Written for Ectober day 28.

The first time Danny zoned out stargazing after the Accident he didn’t think much of it. He’d been about as stressed as it was humanly possible to get - and he was still human, one hundred percent, he just had ghost powers, that’s all - and he’d needed the down time. The fifth time, he started to get a little more concerned. Then, there was the incident that had put ViewTube behind a parental lock on the family computer. He’d started on one, reasonably short video about black holes, and somehow gotten through five college-level lectures on the life cycles of stars. He remembered all of them, of course, word for word. He just… didn’t know where the time went. There were smaller things, too. Talking Sam’s ear off and redirecting the conversation back to astronomy even when she obviously wanted to talk about the Humpty Dumpty concert. Grinding for the constellation-themed items in Doomed and using them to the exclusion of everything else even when they objectively sucked.

But, really, the thing that really scared Danny was when he got distracted in the middle of a ghost fight. It wasn’t a hard fight. The Box Ghost was routine at this point. He wasn’t even distracted for that long. It had just been a fraction of a second where he looked up, his eyes caught by the moon and how amazing it was. He didn’t think Tucker or Sam even noticed. If they did, they didn’t bring it up.

It didn’t matter. It was unacceptable. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by stuff like that. What if he was fighting Undergrowth? Vortex? Spectra? People were relying on him.

He knew what this was, though. He’d been fighting ghosts for months and living with his parents for years, and it wasn’t like any of them were subtle.

But… It wasn’t an obsession if he could keep it under control. Right?

He made lists. What had made him zone out. What hadn’t. He’d had to put the list on the list, because apparently remembering had sent him off into a rabbit hole and–

Well. Anyway.

He could budget his time. That was a thing. He knew it was a thing. He’d set aside one hour, maybe two, specifically for space things, and he’d fill up the rest of the time with all the other stuff he had to do. School. Homework. His friends. Patrol. Other random ghost fights. How best to protect the town. His chores. Helping old Mrs. Odell on the corner with her trash. He could do that, and then he wouldn’t get distracted. He had the willpower. He could do it. He would do it.

It didn’t work very well the first couple of weeks. Maybe he wasn’t always thinking about astronomy, but he was always thinking about when he was allowed to think about astronomy, his internal dialogue was a constant stream of how much longer how much longer how much longer. But he didn’t give in. It was too important. He had to think of the people who could be in danger if he couldn’t focus.

That made it easier. Thinking about how his actions could hurt or help others. If he put it into those terms, into terms of protecting, of helping, he wasn’t as tempted to run off to the nearest planetarium and live there, only going out at night. Lots of things could be put into those terms. If he got good grades, that made his parents, Jazz, and Mr. Lancer happy, and that was helping. If he went to bed and got up on time, his mom didn’t have to jostle him awake in the morning, and that was helping. Planning out his, Sam’s, and Tucker’s patrol routes in detail kept them safe, and that was protecting. Paying careful attention to his surroundings let him react to them faster, and that was protecting.

One month into his new way of thinking about things, and it was much easier.

He did have more time budgeted to astronomy than when he’d started. He needed it, almost physically. He wanted to do something space related when he grew up, even if he couldn’t be an astronaut, so, if he tried to always get an astronomy-related topic on essays for school, so what? It would still get done. And if he still went for the constellation items in Doomed, well, it was a game, and it didn’t hurt anything.

There were still things outside the neat little paradigm he’d built for himself, and he still had trouble holding on to those things, focusing on those things. Things like… like… Well. He couldn’t think of any. They tended to slip out of his head. They couldn’t be that important, though. He was pretty sure he had covered all the important things.

He didn’t have an obsession. He had it under control.

At least, that’s what he thought until Jazz saw his notes, just after he’d finally realized that she knew. Until she saw all the ways he’d organized his thinking until everything tied back to those important things. He hadn’t meant to leave it out, but it was just on his desk, it was where it was supposed to be, didn’t make things cluttered enough to rise to the level of a chore, of needing to clean up to make mom and Jazz happy.

“Danny,” said Jazz, obviously concerned. “This is… Is this really… Don’t you think this is a little… obsessive? Thinking like this?”

“I’m not,” said Danny, knowing how weak that must sound as an argument. “I know I– Look, I know ghosts have obsessions. And I know I sort of have one. Had one. With, you know, astronomy. But I don’t think about it all the time. I’m not like the Box Ghost. I figured out a way to get around it. To think about different things.”

“That’s… great,” said Jazz. “But I wasn’t talking about the astronomy. Or, well, I was, but not only the astronomy.” She held up his notebook. “I was talking about all of this.”

“Oh,” said Danny, very quietly.

“I think you should see someone about this. Because… Because this is a lot, Danny.”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who could I see?” asked Danny, twisting his fingers in the hem of his shirt. “Safely, who could I see about this?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Jazz, softly.

Danny freed one of his hands to rub at his eyes. “That’s okay. Really.” He smiled at her. “I have it under control.”

#danny phantom #ectoberhaunt #ectober #ectoberhaunt23 #ectoberhaunt 2023 #ectober 2023

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miyuhpapayuh · 1 month

Text

He got game 4

Adina: The Cougar Next Door

Summertime rolled around, and Odell's mother encouraged him to take up a little summer job, so he could have some money in his pocket to do as he wished.

He wasn't allergic to hard work, so he welcomed the idea. At first he wasn't sure what he'd want to do to make money, but when he saw his next door neighbor, Adina, a 32-year-old divorcee, tending to the hanging garden that occupied her front porch, he knew just what to do.

One warm, yet breezy Thursday afternoon he caught her outside and voiced his proposition of taking care of her yard work. She happily accepted, offering more than fair compensation.

The first week went by uneventfully, as he planned on how he'd put the moves on his vixen of a neighbor. On a couple of occasions, he caught her second-too-long stares as he pushed and pulled the lawn mower across the grass.

Bingo.

With her paid vacation underway, she didn't have much else that needed her attention. She didn't have children, just her Egyptian Mau, Perla, a sassy kitten that seemingly preferred to be by herself.

On a particularly boring early afternoon, she found herself sitting on her porch swing in a cream colored sundress that bared an expansive amount of thigh, fanning herself with a vintage paper fan as she watched Odell manicure her front lawn. She sat with a bit more interest when he decided to ditch his beater and hang it over his shoulders.

She knew she shouldn't be having the thoughts that ran through her head about this boy. He was over a decade her junior, for God's sake! But God knows the way those beads of sweat dripped down his sculpted torso made her drip below the belt. Her conscience was telling her to get away and take a quick ride with the windows down. Anything to clear her mind, but the little succubus on her shoulder urged her to take him for a test drive.

Weighing each decision carefully, her dark side won out. She was determined to find out if he could make her kitten purr.

Pouring some ice-cold strawberry lemonade into a glass, she made her way over to Odell, tapping him to get his attention as he had earbuds in.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Honey, you make me sound like a grandma," she joked, "Adina's fine. Here," she handed him the refreshing drink, "I know it's hot as hell out here."

She had to fan herself when he flashed that brilliant white smile her way. "Appreciate it, Adina."

"You look like you could use a break. Out here with this sun beating on you. Come sit down and get some of this air conditioner."

Come inside and get this throat is what he heard. It's what she might as well have said.

"I'd like that." She led him inside and he thanked his lucky stars his mother was working until the late evening today.

He might be here a while.

He sighed in pure relief when the cold central air made contact with his blazing hot skin.

"I see you inhaled that lemonade, sugar. Want another glass?"

"Actually, I'd rather drink you."

"Hm. And here I thought I'd have to play the coy game." Shamelessly, she let her dress fall from her body. A scrap of black lace you could barely classify as underwear was the only thing adorning her now. She hooked her finger in the front of his basketball shorts.

"Follow me."

She led him to her spa-like bathroom that had a shower big enough to fit at least five people. After fiddling with a couple knobs, water rained down from the ceiling. Pleased with the temperature, she rid herself of her panties. Bending at the waist, she peeled them down her legs giving him the perfect view of her glistening cove. She flung the piece of cloth at him, and he caught it, sticking them in the pocket of his shorts.

She entered the shower, standing directly under the water. He watched mesmerized as the steaming water cascaded down her figure.

"Care to join me? Or would you rather stand there drooling on yourself?" she chuckled. He was out of his remaining clothes and in the shower in record time.

Taking her mango-scented body wash, she squeezed some into her palm, working it into a rich lather. Starting at his neck, she worked her hands down his body, washing him down.

Slipping down to her knees to wash lower, and she's face to face with the prettiest dick she's ever seen. Long, girthy, with a thick vein going up the underside.

Perfect.

She gripped it, running the flat of her tongue along that vein. Placing a sloppy kiss to the tip, she winked before swallowing him whole. She used one of her free hands to rub her clit and the other to massage his balls.

He exhaled roughly through his nose, gripping her thick, wet hair in his fingers. She relaxed her throat allowing him to fuck her face however he liked.

She slid two of her fingers into herself, moaning around him.

"Fuck," he bit out as the vibrations from her mouth covered him.

He pulled out of her mouth before he could bust in it, and placed her on the bench in the recess of the shower wall, kneeling between her legs. He draped them over his shoulders, and went to work, licking a stripe up her slit much like she did earlier making her hiss.

He was intrigued by the tiny gold bar that went through her hood. He investigated it with his tongue. He must have tripped something because his mouth started to vibrate, eliciting a gasp from her.

'So she's that kinda freak,' he thought. He licked circles around her clit while the vibing piercing did its thing. He could just barely make out her sweet little moans as his head was basically sandwiched between her thighs.

Her head was thrown back in pleasure, moaning loudly into the damp air. A hand was threaded through his curls, while the other tweaked her nipple.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum!" she ended on a shriek. He groaned against her already overstimulated clit, setting her off. She made a mess of her juices all over his face.

Getting eye-level with her, he pressed their lips together making her taste herself. She tasted even better on his tongue.

Exiting the shower, he forewent drying off, and bent her over the counter. He sent a heavy smack to her ass, surprised when she asked for another, harder this time. Quick to oblige, he made sure to leave a nice, bright red mark this time. One of the sexiest sounds left her mouth in appreciation making his dick stiffer than he thought possible.

Moving behind her, he tapped his head against her a few times before sliding in, filling her to the hilt causing them both curse at the contact. He spread her open to making sure he got as deep as possible with each stroke. She had to brace herself against the mirror for fear of hitting it headfirst with how powerful his thrusts were.

"You're so--," he hits her spot so good she almost loses her balance, "fuck baby, you're so fucking deep!"

She brings one of her arms back to press against his abs to relieve the building pressure.

He caught her arm, holding it behind her back. Gripping her neck, he pulled her back placing his mouth against her ear.

"You gon take all this fucking dick. Got it?" It was like he was stealing the breath from her body with how deep he was.

“Got it?!"

He tightened his grip on her, moving painstakingly slow, pulling out so far she thought he'd pull out, just to slam back into her wetness full force driving her insane.

"Yes! Yes imma take all of it!" Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her jaw hanging slack as he brought her closer and closer to spilling all over him.

"Good girl."

He knew she was close, and he wasn't far behind.

"You ‘bout to make me cum all up in this good shit, baby. You want that?" he licked up the side of her face.

"Mmm, yeah give me all that nut, big boy."

"Take that shit, then." She began throwing it back on him recklessly, meeting him thrust for thrust, obscene, wet sounds filling the bathroom.

Together, they came loudly & noisily, with her wetting up his dick and thighs. She pulsated around him, milking every drop she could. He collapsed on top of her, their sweaty bodies sticking together as they tried to regain control of their breathing. She reached back, rubbing soothing circles against the back of his neck with her fingertips.

"I'm gonna have to raise your pay," she joked tiredly.

Lmao this one was wild. Enjoy!

@thegifstories @blackerthings @ghostfacekill-monger @honestpreference @blowmymbackout @headcannonxgalore @harmshake @henneseyhoe @blackpinup22 @twistedcharismaaa @abeautifulmindexposed @starcrossedxwriter @megamindsecretlair @soufcakmistress

#miyuhpapayuh #blackwriters #smut #he got game #odell beckham jr

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tokoyamisstuff · 4 months

Text

Pistanthrophobia

(n.) the fear of trusting people due to past experiences

Mark Hoffman x GN! Reader

A/N: This request has been sitting in my drafts for 2 years or so, I am terribly sorry😭but kinda iconic that anon predicted the plot of SAW X

Synopsis: While John and Amanda travel to Mexico, Reader and Mark are being left behind.

Warnings: Cussing, (unspecific) mentions of intercourse, alcohol, mental breakdown, unhealthy coping mechanisms, toxic dynamics, mentions of choking, power imbalance, slight d/s elements -> all mostly mentioned, nothing graphic

Notes: Apprentice! Reader, Nurse! Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, No use of Y/N or other names

"So I'll use my voice, I'll be so fucking rude Words, they always win, but I know I'll lose And I wanna cry, I wanna learn to love But all my tears have been used up"

- Another Love by Tom Odell

"I hate you so fucking much..."

Your words were met with nothing but a derogatory laugh, Hoffman's dark voice almost tauntingly echoing through the room.

Unbothered by your remark, he calmly readjusted his pants before subtly winking at you.

"Don't hate the player - hate the game" he chuckled arrogantly, relishing in the knowledge that he was once again victorious in that little cat and mouse game the two of you were playing.

There was no denying it: Hoffman would always end up having the upper hand, this much was sure.

But oh, how much you wanted to wipe that shiteating grin from his face right now!

Slowly but steadily even the last effects of your orgasm ceased in your body, instantly being replaced with unbearable shame.

As always.

You'd love to say this was a one-time occasion, but every argument with your fellow apprentice would ultimately end up this way - with you being slammed on the next best surface, that is. Getting fucked into utter submission until you'd be reduced to a moaning and stuttering mess, begging him for more.

And mind you, but the two of you fought a lot.

You furrowed your brows at the man, a failed attempt to regain at least a fraction of your dignity. Hoffman however found your pathetic resistance rather endearing, shamelessly indulging in the sight of your ruined self.

Straightening your clothes, you intended to escape this scene as fast as possible - but after a deed this...intense, it was doomed to fail.

So as soon as you jumped from the cold working table, your legs gave up...

...just to instantly being caught in the arms of the man you so desperately wanted to get away from.

"Careful there" he mocked, and yet his breath on your ear was enough to make you shiver once again. "You might wanna take it easy after what I did to you."

"Fuck off!" you managed to regain some composure and snapped back, shoving him away and leaving as far as your still weakened legs could manage.

"Little brat" he grumbled under his breath, only to then fix his tie and continue working as if nothing ever happened. "If you want to come back for more, you know where to find me!"

The words he called after you were left unheard as you paced through the narrow hallways, trying to avoid anyone else to see you like this - runny makeup, ruined hair, the front of your shirt torn apart, skin covered in bruises.

Gladly you would cross paths with neither John nor Amanda during the walk-of-shame to your room. Not that this little 'hate-fuck-workplace-affair' - or whatever one might call it - wasn't obvious, you just couldn't bear another lecture right now.

The water in your current hideout - another run down facility - was cold and made you grateful to be vaccinated against tetanus, but it would suffice.

At least this time you actually had running water, right? A vigilantee with a secret double life shouldn't really complain about missing luxury.

You quickly got undressed and scrubbed off the black oily fingerprints Mark had left on your chest and thighs, while dwelling in self pity...

...because even though you'd rather drop dead than to admit it, you sadly enjoyed those encounters with Hoffman way too much.

And damn, that asshole was amazing when it came to making you come undone.

Couldn't even blame him for acting all high and mighty around you when you'd become wax in his hands as soon as his lips crash over yours in the heat of the moment.

Each and every. Single. Time.

Admittedly, he is handsome. Very much so, and aware of that fact in the worst way possible. Tall, more intelligent than he looked for sure. Strong and dominant - no, downright rude was more fitting.

And while usually rather the quiet type, Hoffman was very vocal about his opinion of you.

The detective thought you to not belong here, to be dull and naive - a nuisance whose mere presence managed to irritate him beyond belief.

After all, you were a mere nurse before this - on the very same station that John Kramer was once a patient on. And someone like him was aware of everything.

So it was only a matter of time until he found out you listened to some of your terminally ill patient's pleads and assisted them with their suicide. Much to his disapproval, needn't be said.

Just like Mark, you had no other choice but to join in Jigsaws schemes - yet opposite to him, you actually looked up to your blackmailer.

"Kindness is a virtue - but given to the wrong people, it can become a weakness" John once scolded you, after having interrupted a rather indecent moment between you and Hoffman.

As if you had ever been kind to him. Well, in the beginning, maybe. But he blocked every attempt to get along, and now you just mirror the way he treats you.

As the last drop of machine oil went down the drain, you couldn't help but mentally wander back to earlier - Mark roughly pounding into you, holding your struggling self in place as he once again reminded you that this was exactly where you belonged - beneath him.

Shit, you have a horrible taste in men.

Mabye you just hated yourself for allowing him to manhandle you like this, using you like some sort of toy to let out some steam on...

...or maybe you hated the fact that you still felt this odd attraction to him, despite everything.

"Did it again, huh?"

Amanda's appearance broke your reminiscing, and you stared her down as she was smugly leaning against the doorframe. God knows how long she had been back already, but with no actual doors privacy was a foreign word in here anyway.

"Please" you groaned, not bothering to dry yourself properly and instead quickly getting dressed again. "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know I'll implode if I can't at least voice my disgust for this cheap excuse of a man." Despite the initial atmosphere, both of you broke out into bright laughter at her comment.

"Seriously" she now added with a more concerned and serious tone, gently grabbing both of your shoulders so you'd properly listen. "Even John begins to think Hoffman's beyond help. Instead of listening to John's teachings, he only got a taste for blood. Who knows what happens when he snaps."

For a sheer second, your face dropped at her statement.

What did she mean with "beyond help"?

Sure, he was the epitome of toxic masculinity and a different kind of insane than the rest of you, but he gets the job done without question...

...and somehow you wanted to believe that he had preserved at least a last bit of humanity, buried deep inside of him.

A taste of blood? Certainly. But more as means of self preservance, maybe out of a twisted sense of justice too.

Soon Amanda would take over John's work and the rest of you could be active from the shadows. You couldn't imagine him continuing this afterwards, neither did you.

"Well" you crossed your arms in a defensive manner, "Tell him to keep it in his pants and I might be able to resist climbing this man like a jungle gym."

"Gross."

Gladly Amanda dropped the topic for now, practically tearing you to the main hall for some kind of 'murder staff meeting'.

You couldn't bear to see his fucking face again, but hey, that's what you get for fucking the company.

John and Mark were already waiting, and the latter immediately scowled upon seeing your fellow apprentice.

Well, if there's one person he despised even more than you it must be her - and she was an actual rival to him and not just a pastime and easy target.

"Late as always" Mark spat venom at her, "Can't expect any less from an addict and a good-for-nothing."

Ouch.

"What's with the grimace, dumbass?" she sneered right back and earned a nudge to the side from yourself. You had no nerve for this right now, especially not in front of your mentor.

Instead of biding Amanda another look, he now turned towards you with a mischievous grin on his face. "Got nothing sassy to say today, sweetheart?"

"Nope." You tried avoiding his gaze, only to be met with John's sympathetic one. "Not in the mood."

"Huh" he almost cackled at his own joke before he even said it, "You were 'in the mood' just a few minutes ago. But hey, that's the only thing you're good for."

Amanda was practicall boiling with rage by now, ready to throw hands to defend your honor. What a wonderful friend indeed...

...but all of you knew that while she surpassed him in skill with ease, he was a literal beast when it came to physical strenght.

"I liked your mouth more when it was duct-taped" you finally snapped back at the man, more to hold Amanda back than anything else. "Or even better, with the shotgun draped right in front of it. Might make that mandatory, so you'll finally think before you speak."

"Try me" he answered calm yet not less menacing, a cocky smirk decorating his face as he approached you until you were basically trapped between him and the wall. "Or do you need me to fuck that attitude right out of you again?"

"Enough already!" John then exclaimed, and immediately the room was coated with an uncomfortable silence, strained even. "You're not here to be so distasteful in my presence. Did you learn nothing at all?"

Couldn't he have intervened earlier?

Well, knowing him he probably wanted to observe whether you took his lecture to heart.

God, you couldn't help but wish to disappear right on spot...

You looked down in shame while Mark would only scoff and back away like a feral dog being tugged on it's leash, finally giving you space to breathe again.

"I called you here because Amanda and I will have to leave earlier than anticipated" John had ended the earlier topic just like that, by dropping this huge information. "Tomorrow night, to be precize."

"Only the two of you?" Mark groaned exaggerated at your question, as if the answer was the most obvious thing to figure out.

"You and the detective need to keep your civil identities upright. The preparations will take longer than anticipated, so it would be suspicious if you were to miss work for such a long period of time"

You nodded, only a little bashful at first but it worsened as John once again directed his words at you. "Did you bring the anesthesia and surgical instruments I requested of you?"

"N-not enough" you tried to explain, a little taken aback. "I thought there was more time. If I steal too much at once, my coworkers will find out..."

"It's alright" Amanda interrupted you, putting a reassuring hand on your back. "I know some people, I can get the missing rest."

Hoffman's laugh was everything but subtle, and more than enough to tell what he was thinking - that you were useless and replacable.

Maybe he was right. But you were never voluntarily a part of this in the first place!

"Both of you have envelopes with assignments on your desk, you need to get this done until my return. This is not a request, it's an order."

All of you voiced your approval, like mindless soldiers who were about to fight the war of others.

"Oh, and detective?" John then turned to look at Hoffman, raising a warning finger. "I know what you're about to do in my absence, and I'll warn you only this once: Don't."

It had been hours since John and Amanda's departure and you couldn't help but repeat this last sentence in your mind over and over again.

Those dreading questions were robbing the sleep you so desperately needed in case you'd have to actuall defend yourself.

What did he mean by that? What intentions or plans would a man like Mark Hoffman have? He seemed like a man with no real aspirations, aside from his position at work he was basically an empty shell of a human being.

You never really thought about it until now, gulping at the thought: Even the serial killer they called Jigsaw, the puppet mastermind admitted he could not control this man.

You've seen the brutality of Mark's traps first hand, the way he treated - no, abused - unconscious victims before their tests.

Compared to the rest of you he was the real homicidal maniac, or at least had the potential to become shall he fall even further astray from his path.

You got the sentiment, though. Knew it yourself - what it's like to have nothing and no one, leading a shallow and empty life.

It was apparent how tired he had grown of this corrupt city, of not being able to bring upon real justice. He had been known for his violent tendencies and immoral methods even before crossing paths with John Kramer...

...and now that he was so deep in those games, it seems there was simply no going back for him now. At least as long as there's still apprentices alive that might snitch his secrets.

You once called him "Jigsaw's Monster" to push his buttons - but to be perfectly honest, you were scared you had hit the bull's eye.

And now they had left you alone with exactly this monster.

He is definetly going to kill you...or worse.

You shuddered at the thought, then laughed at your own imagination running wild. John certainly let a lot slip with both Amanda and Mark, even death traps with no real way to win.

But John had insisted that you were to cater to his needs shall his health deteriorate. So he needed you. He would never let Mark get rid of you just like that, right?

Right?

Well, that's some motivation to get the job done and prove yourself worthy you thought, but life got other plans..

...since just when you were about to leave the hideout for your beloved apartment, the last person you wanted to see right now had magically appeared.

No wonder you thought, since both of you had taken paid time off work for several days, back when you thought you'd accompany John to Mexico.

Either way you were frozen in shock, like a deer in front of a lion. Hoffman was just standing there, staring at you wide-eyed from the dark hallway.

Exhaling deeply, you tried to become reasonable again. Dang, you were behaving ridiculous right now.

That's just Hoffman. A terrible person, but still a person and not some kind of abomination.

"Gosh" you chuckled nervously, pacing around the room to collect some blueprints. "Can't you be normal for once? At least knock or announce yourself."

No answer.

"What now? Wanna insult me again, call me a disgrace or worse? C'mon, I've had it all with you. And hey, John didn't take you with him either so don't get me started on that topic."

Still no reaction from the man, except for him entering the room all mutely, stating holes into your skill.

He was staggering, but seemingly not injured. So drunk it must be. A shame, considering he had been sober ever since he met John.

"D-Detective? You there? Did you hear me?" His sheer presence alone could be intimidating at times, but this was downright creepy.

Slowly coming closer, like so many times the proximity between you became too much to bear. But not with annoying banter or sexual tension like usual.

It was different this time, worse.

A million thoughts at once spiraled in your head.

Should you make a run for it? Nah, he's faster anyway and it would only wear you down.

Fight? Haha, nope. Maybe seduce him and hope for the best? Gosh, pathetic.

Before you even realized, you were cornered once again. Mark built himself up, towering over you like a beast in front of his prey. Then he slammed both of his hands on either side of your head, making you jump.

You were trapped. He harshly tugged on your hair, forcing you to look at his devastated self. Squinting your eyes open, your whole body was shaking violently as you glanced up to the man.

Mark was panting heavily, his breath strongly smelling of liquor. Eyes bordering on a dangerous mixture of hurt and pure madness.

God, he was actually going to murder you.

You felt a hand on your throat, one last desperate attempt of his to ward off those feelings. To remain the one in control over the situation...

...and yet, in the end his lips would meet yours.

Detective Hoffman had kissed you many times before. Always rough, sloppy, demanding. Taking what he needed without ever giving back.

But this...this was new.

It felt almost genuine, with his gloved hand now securely holding the back of your neck in place. Unusually tender as his shaky lips laid on yours, careful like you were a fragile piece of art that could easily be tainted or shatter.

It felt like an eternity, until his lips softly brushed alongside the skin of your cheek before completely pulling back, finally allowing you to breathe again.

You were almost temptated to kiss him back, but were still too confused and afraid, sucking in fresh air and staring at him dumbfounded.

"Hoffman, what the-"

Before you could finish your question, the man pulled you into a bonecrushing embrace.

With your ear against his thorso, you could hear the way his heart was practically hammering against his chest. Much to your surprise he was shaking as well, and you could've sworn to perceive some strangled sobs as well.

"Hey, big guy..." Trapped in his muscular arms you couldn't move an inch, no matter how you tried to writhe yourself out. "This isn't much better than the choking. You're squeezing me here, seriously."

Instead of a proper reaction, you felt him press your much smaller body even firmer against his own, desperate to not let you see him this vulnerable...

...however when you felt something wetten the top of your head you understood.

He was crying. Mark fucking Hoffman, the most menacing and cold person was currently bawling his eyes out.

"Mark?" You had never called him by his first name until now, but it felt right at the moment. "What's wrong? Can I help you somehow? Talk to me..."

That was the last straw.

Not even Hoffman himself knew why he came to you of all people in this state of being...

...but all things aside, you were the only person he could call a constant pleasure in his life - even when he was actively making yours worse in the process.

After everything he's said and done, you should be the last person on earth to care. He had expected you to laugh, spit insults his way, maybe even lash out at him. He deserved it all and way worse...

...yet here you are, offering him your support.

Mark broke down, falling on his knees and weeping openly as he was now unable to hold back anymore.

Or maybe it was because your presence made him feel safe enough to open up, who knows.

"Heya there..." you shushed him, hesistantly sinking down to the floor in front of him. "It's okay. Let it all out."

All of your suspicion, all of your grudges had been shoved back into your head at that moment.

Eery person deserved a second chance - that was one of John's lessions you wholeheartedly wanted to believe in.

Well, sadly just like Jigsaws traps, healing always involved hurt in the process.

"I'm here, Mark. I'm not going anywhere."

And you kept your word, keeping him company as long as needed.

It took you some time and convincing, but eventually you got this drunk and utterly exhausted mess of a man into your bed. Staying by his side, with him clinging to you as if you were his lifeline.

However he never spoke a word that night...

...and when you woke up the next morning, he was gone.

You found him not much later, slouched on a run down sofa at Jigsaw's workshop and drinking his hangover away.

Geeze, this guy is incorrigible.

"You look awful" you greeted him, looking at the clock just to see that it was only 9am.

"Yeah no shit sherlock" he croaked back, voice still hoarse from crying before. "Want a job at my department with your great observation skills?"

"Depends" you snickered, "Do I get a promotion for turning you in?"

There, at the corner of his mouth, his lips were twitching into an almost-smile. He let out an amused huff, before taking another sip from the cheap liquor. "Touché."

"So..." you plummeted down on the other end of the sofa, enough distance to not be uncomfortable for either of you. "Want to talk about it?"

Hoffman leaned forwards, a slouched position that made him appear so much less intimidating than he could be at times. "Rather not."

He looked so sad and tired, or rather tired of being sad.

You almost felt pity for him, but would never dare to say that aloud. He didn't seem like the type of person to take people caring for him positively.

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?" Hoffman almost cackled at your choice of wording, making you roll your eyes. "You're making this way too easy sometimes. "

This playful banter made you wonder why it couldn't always be like this - just exchanging some silly jabs, instead of getting at each other's throat whenever you'd meet.

"C'mon, stay focused." You now had both hands at your hips, trying to make an authorative impression. "I seriously thought you came to kill me last night. I think I deserve to know what's going on."

"Kill you?" That seemingly catched him off guard, as he rose a surprised, almost offended eyebrow at you. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"I-I don't know, I...we're all alone, I'm defenseless without the others." A little embarassed at your paranoia, you fondled with your fingers in your lap. "You loathe me, and you've killed people for less."

Your mind went back and forth to his colleagues who he killed in cold blood. People he worked with for so many years, probably went through so much together...

...until he slaughtered them in inhumane ways, without so much as feeling remorse.

"Ah damn it, yesterday was the death day of my sister, okay? You happy now?" He gritted, and suddenly you felt a tidal wave of guilt hit you head first.

How could you not have thought about this?!?

"John didn't want me to relapse with the alcohol" he added, "That's what he meant. But here we are."

This said, he took another sip. And then one more, and another...

In a fit of rage, he threw the empty bottle across the room where it scattered into pieces. As he pulled out another one from his secret storage, you tried to snatch it out of his hand - but his reaction was surprisingly unaffected.

You wanted to drown your embarassment just as much as he did his grief. "We've exchanged all kinds of bodily fluids, a shared bottle won't do any harm."

"...weirdo" he mumbled, hiccuping before involuntarily giving you the bottle.

"Takes one to know one" you shrugged and almost emptied it in one go, ignoring both the burning in your mouth and your companion's pleas to take it easy.

While you continued getting to his niveau of intoxication, Mark seemed to be buried deeply in thought, brows knitted together as he tried to find the courage for the following words.

Sighing deeply, looking anywhere but your eyes, he almost mutely uttered "...and I don't hate you."

"Huh?" You blinked frantically, trying to process what he had just said.

"I don't hate you" he repeated his confession, now firmly and with a stern expression as he scanned your face for a reaction.

"Well, your words and actions certainly don't match." Your mind was alread fogged by the alcohol, and you began to wonder how he could even sit upright with that much running through his system. Well, was certainly not the first time he numbed out his feelings like this.

Not wanting to push him too much, you shuffled closer until your legs would touch. Mark had his face buried in his hands, and you timidly reached out to pat his shoulder...

...only for him to catch your wrist, making you yelp in pain.

Seeing your startled expression, his wild eyes softened immediately, letting go off of you again. "Sorry...bad habit."

"Oh, so you do know how to apologize" you nervously giggled as you rubbed your sore wrist, detecting a glint of self-loathing in his eyes you knew just too well.

Being filled with so much pent up anger and hatred, you thought them to be the only emotions Mark Hoffman was still capable to feel.

Seems like you couldn't have been more wrong.

But it was easier this way, easier to endure his neverending abuse when you imagined him to be some kind of dangerous sociopath and not a mere broken hero.

"Listen, Detective-"

"Just Mark is okay. We're way beyond that."

"Okay...Mark." You gave him a pained yet hopeful smile, and much to your surprise he'd mirror it - not even minding when you cupped his way taller hand with yours. "I'm gonna be blunt: Supressing your emotions won't make them disappear. This is obviously eating you up from the inside, and I'm...worried."

Every sympathetic word of yours made his heart clench.

It was one thing to help a lost soul as a matter of exception, just like yesterday's emergency, but after everything you witnessed not running away, and instead of using it against him still determined to help him?

Why are you making it so damn hard for him to stay away for your own good?

"...I really was right. You don't belong here" he chuckled sadly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand without even noticing it himself. "You're kind. You deserve better."

Mark's intention had always been to scare you away, make sure you won't continue or even associate yourself with Jigsaw's work after his death.

That's why he manipulated the traps you made, took all tasks from you and led you to believe you were not fit for the job - just so your hands stayed free from blood.

At least you should be free from all of this. One person he could help, but to him it'd mean the world.

"I don't like to get attached" he blurted out, licking his dry lips. "It hurts less."

And yet he couldn't resist the temptation, the bliss that he felt whenever he could have you close, if only temporarily.

Even though he wasn't a man of many words, you understood everything - the unspoken ones as well.

Out of a whim, you straddled his waist, intensely staring at the man in front of you.

Now at last, you saw him in a whole different light.

It wouldn't redeem anything, but understanding his behavior might pave a way for him to make up for what he's done.

Mark's eyes widened in shock when you cupped his face in your hands, his subtle beard tickling the skin of your palms. But soon you felt his hands roaming your body, holding you firmly in place and observing you like you were a myth yet to unfold.

He says something, mutely, but the way he looked at you with sheer admiration gave away his thoughts.

Your touch would not falter, instead your eyes dropped to get stuck on his mouth whose taste you knew inside and out.

A weak "Please..." escaped his throat, almost whining at the sensation of your lips only ghosting across his.

In this moment neither the games nor the past would matter...

...and as soon as your lips met, you knew whatever would happen, together you will figure out the future as well.

#saw #mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #saw x #detective mark hoffman #slashers #self insert #writing #fanfiction

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sgtcosmo · 4 months

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sunshine - simon riley x reader

cw: none! only pronoun used for reader is 'you'

this is just a short n sweet lil blurb of simon being in love with gn!reader, including some lyrics from black friday by tom odell because i think of him whenever i hear that song :') initially i was going to turn this idea into something angsty and sad but i ultimately wanted to indulge in some fluff instead. enjoy!

simon riley is a silent lover.

he's not one for pda. sure, he'll guide you through a crowd of people with his hand firmly entangled with yours, or he'll come up behind you and place his hand on the small of your back when someone's getting a little too close to you for his liking, but that's about it.

you know he loves you through the glances he gives you. the way his eyes follow you as you do whatever it is you're doing. the way you can see the faintest smile get painted across his face when you make eye contact with him.

simon riley is a silent lover.

of course, he'll mumble "love you, s'much." into the top of your head as you curl into him under the covers at night, though he prefers to show you he loves you without words.

he memorizes every little thing about you. how you like your tea in the mornings, how you like your eggs cooked, what sizes of clothing you wear, what pisses you off, and what makes you smile.

god knows he wakes up before you every morning, even if you have an early start to the day. he's always there when your eyes first flutter open to the gentle morning light, placing your favourite mug onto your bedside table filled with tea, made just right.

simon riley is a silent lover.

so when you're sitting across from him at the dining table of your shared flat, eating your eggs that he made for you and rambling on about what happened while he was gone on his last mission, he rests his chin on his hands and just stares.

he takes you all in. your disheveled hair, your shirt collar hanging loosely around your neck, the sleep still weighing your eyelids down slightly, and the smile on your face as you explain something to him.

he looks at you and thinks, "you look so pretty."

"pretty like the sun."

you are simon's sun. not just because your smile is blinding, warm, and welcoming. not just because you warm him up with your hugs on even the coldest days. not just because you can banter with him using fiery comebacks that eventually cause you two to break out into laughter.

but because you light up his formerly somber life with your presence alone. you light up the lives of everyone who has ever had the pleasure of meeting you. you are the light in the darkness. simon had no idea that someone in this life could ever make him feel this way just by existing, but now he knows. because he has you.

simon had no idea that one person could come along and fill his life with the most vibrant shades of yellow he has ever seen.

simon riley is a silent lover.

so as he sits there and admires you, your smile radiant as ever and adorning his heart in a cordial hue of gold, he decides that he could watch forever while you shine on everyone.

even if it blinds him in the end.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod #simon riley #cod ghost #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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sakuraaachan · 11 months

Text

Another Love - Izuku M.

This fic is based off the song 'Another Love - Tom Odell' (I do not own this song!!) I do recommend listening to it while you read though!

Izuku x Singer! Reader

Rating: violence, murder, stalking, drinking, cheating

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This is the full version of the story!

It takes a lot of courage to stand on a stage in front of a vast crowd. All the attention is on you, the spotlight is on you, everyone’s eyes are on you. It was enough pressure to make you throw up, but it was the only place that you really felt comfortable.

Behind you is the band, the music behind your voice. They waited, ready for you to signal them to start. You exhaled through your nose, placing your hands on the microphone which was held up by a stand.

The crowd turned silent, sounds of coughing and throats clearing echoed in the stadium, reminding you they were waiting, waiting for you, they were all here just for you. He was here, he was here just for you.

You were nervous, feeling your heartbeat through your ears as you slowly raised your hand, the band members shuffled a bit, getting into position before finally you signaled. The piano is so loud, and you want to run back into the darkness. But that wasn’t an option, not if you wanted him to come back.

You swallow your saliva to try and ease the dryness in your throat, giving one last breath before your lips parted.

I wanna take you somewhere so you know I care

Injure Picture @injurepictureoffical

Y/n L/n performs the hit song ‘Love Like Yours’ live at [------]. Check out our website for more information on Y/n’s upcoming shows. http://bit.ly/86ghdy

Rand0m Ch1ld @thechildernarenotwell

replying to @injurepictureoffical

OMGWJIDK I CAN’T BELIEVE I MISSED IT.

メアリー♡!!。@zannyi

Seeing Y/n up close was like going to heaven and meeting an angel, she is so sweet!

Luna @lunabottcher89

My wedding song was ‘Love Like Yours’, singing it to my baby daughter every day.

Anonymous @youdontknowme

Y/n is the human cupid, her songs make everyone fall in love!

Yasmin @battzluv455

replying to @youdontknowme

All her songs are about her boyfriend, they’ve been dating since highschool. True fans know that.

Sam @eazydub23

replying to @battzluv455

She has a boyfriend? Heart = broken !!

“Hey babe!” You click your phone off, shoving it into your pocket before walking over to your boyfriend and pressing your lips to his cheek. “I got your text, why the sudden meetup?”

“Hey bunny,” Josh smiles as he speaks, his charming grin makes your heart skip a beat. He grabs your hand, lacing your fingers before leading you down the street, “I just wanted to take my girlfriend out.”

It was the moments like these where you enjoyed life the most. When you smile so hard your cheeks hurt, but you can’t stop because the person you're with just makes you so happy that you have to smile.

“How was the performance yesterday?” Josh brings you to a cafe, sitting across from you, “sorry I couldn’t make it, you know I would have loved to be there.”

“It’s okay! We can always just listen to it together, just you and me.” You stirred your recently ordered coffee, pouring in the tiny little cups of cream. “It’s about when you asked me to be your girlfriend.”

Josh lets out a hearty laugh, “wow… that was so long ago, you remember?”

“Well, it was one of the best days of my life!” You laugh alongside him, “and…I wrote the song based on how I was feeling.”

He nods, clicking his tongue as he watches you take a sip of your coffee. You give him a curious glance, “are you not going to get anything babe?”

“Listen bunny…” Josh exhales through his nose, before placing his arms on the table, “I…I need some more money.”

“What happened to the money I gave you two weeks ago?” You place your mug down, “Josh that was well over five thousand dollars, how did you spend it all in such a short period of time?”

You can hear his foot tapping against the floor under the table, “I’m saving up for something big.”

Well just tell me what it is, I’ll give you the exact amount you need.”

“That’s the problem bunny,” his hand slides over to yours, his index finger rubbing up and down on your finger. “It’s a surprise…I can’t tell you.”

You stare at him blankly, biting back a goofy smile, picking up your phone. “How much do you need?

“Yes! Thank you buns!” Josh squeezes your hand, telling you the amount he needed. You grin at his elated face, sending him the money before putting your phone away.

“Thank you bunny, you are literally the best,” he presses his lips to your knuckles before releasing your hand to check his phone. “Shoot.”

Your smile falters, “what’s wrong?”

“I gotta go, something just came up.” He waves over a waitress, “can I get two blueberry muffins in a to-go box?”

The woman nods before walking off, and Josh looks at you as he packs up his stuff. “You’ve got the bill, right bunny?”

You couldn’t even respond before Josh is walking away, grabbing his to-go container from the waitress walking up. You lean your chin against the palm of your hand, a loving sigh escaping your lips as a smile graces your features.

But it's so cold and I don't know where

“He’s going to propose!” You’re laid out on your bed, legs kicking out in excitement as you squealed into your pillow. “That’s why he has been needing so much money lately.”

After dating for about 10 years, you were finally going to marry the love of your life. Since high school this was all you could ever dream about, wearing a huge wedding dress, planning the reception, walking down the aisle.

Your life was all about Josh, without him…you don’t know where you would have been. Your singing career would have never flourished, and you’d probably be working some office job.

All your songs were written based on your sentiments with Josh, happy moments where your heart could just burst out of your chest. It was your brand, songs that made people remember their times with loved ones, the public adored it.

Reaching over to your bedside table, you grab a spiral purple notebook before flipping to a new page. So many lyrics were forming in your head, as you hummed along to them to try and find a rhythm.

There’s a knock at your door, before you hear it creak open. “How's my favorite client?”

“Hey Dave!” You look over your shoulder, grinning at your manager. “I’m doing just fine!”

“This is a gift from the studio.” He has a huge gift basket in his hand, walking over to your wardrobe and placing it down. “Someone seems a little excited, heard something I didn’t?”

“No,” you giggle. “I’m just in a good mood.”

“Well at least your writing!” Dave’s eyes land onto your notebook, a grin coming across his face. “I assume we’ll have a new hit album coming out soon.”

“I dunno, I kinda want to keep this one to myself, it’s personal,” you turn back to your notebook.

You had Dave to thank for all the fame you had to this day. He listed you to your first couple of gigs and advertised the hell out of you. Without Dave, you’d probably still be singing at local bars trying to get some higher up managers to notice you.

“Well, I’m sure you'll change your mind.” Dave’s grin falters a bit. “I’ll leave you to it now, don’t want to interrupt the process.”

But like all managers, Dave had his flaws. He was a little too pushy on making romance songs and only romance, he didn’t allow for you to write about anything else but your love life. Which wasn’t a dilemma, since that’s all you wanted to write about anyway.

I brought you daffodils on a pretty string

“How do I look mom?” You twirled in your shiny silver dress, a deep shade of red grazed over your lips along with some eyeshadow to complete the look.

“Wonderful darling,” your mother’s face was close up in the camera on the facetime call. “Are you sure he’s going to propose?”

“I’m 99% sure, otherwise I got my hair and nails done for nothing.” You pick up your phone, checking your messages to see if Josh had texted you.

“Where’d you go?” You can hear your mom tapping on her phone, “why does my screen say paused, did you pause me Y/n?”

“I’m just checking to see if Josh is ready, I have to go pick him up.”

“Didn’t he invite you to dinner?” You click back onto the facetime, and your mother gives you a look. “And you're picking him up? Doesn’t that boy know how to drive?”

“His car broke down, and it’s no big deal mom.” You look at the notification you got from Josh, “I’ve gotta go, I’ll call you after dinner.”

“Okay honey, love you bye!”

But they won't flower like they did last spring

“You look amazing bunny.”

The restaurant Josh brought you to was exquisite, and very expensive. There was no possible chance you were walking out of here without a ring.

“Thank you..” You tuck a strand behind your ear, “I wanted to look my best for you.”

“Good evening sir and ma’am, can I get you started with any drinks?” The waitress walks over, holding her leathered notepad as Josh orders some champagne.

She nods her head before turning towards you. “Just water please, with lemon.”

“Water? Come on buns, loosen up a little.”

“You know I can’t do that Josh,” you told him, shaking your head with disapproval. “Dave would have a heart attack if he saw me drunk on the news.”

His hand comes over yours, persistent, “come on, you know I wouldn’t let that happen. I’ll take care of you.”

You feel your face get hot as your left leg starts to bounce up and down with excitement. “Yeah, I know you’ll take care of me…you always have.”

Two flutes of champagne are sat on the table along with your glass of water with a wedge of lemon lucked against the glass. “To us?” Josh holds out his glass, and reluctantly you grab yours watching some of the bubbles float to the top before clicking your flute with his.

“To us.”

And I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright

The night continued to go on, Josh going on about how busy he’s been with work which had been making him unavailable to come see you as often as he wanted to.

All this conversation, but you still didn’t have a ring. What was he waiting for?

The food arrived and you almost needed another table to fit everything that Josh had ordered. You finished your salad quickly as your boyfriend continued to chow down on his expensive steak.

You rest your temple on your hand, staring down at your plate with boredom. The thrill of anticipation is long gone by now.

“Bunny?”

You look up, snapped out of your trance by Josh. He wipes his face with a white cloth, before clearing his throat. Suddenly that spark of hope is relit within your gut.

“You’ve got the bill right?”

Your eye twitches a little but you force yourself to smile. “Of course babe.”

He grins before getting back to itching, using his fork to shove some potato in his mouth, “thanks buns, y’know this whole date thing is kinda romantic, you should write a song about it. Could make some good money-”

“Josh.”

“Yeah?” He continues to chew his food. “Something wrong?”

“Are you gonna propose to me tonight?”

He stiffens, grabbing his glass and drinking the rest of his champagne. “Uh…no, what gave you that idea?”

“Are you ever gonna propose to me Josh?” You feel tears threatening to spill out your eyes, but you bite your lips in hope they’ll hold off for a while. “You’ve been asking for a lot of money lately and I-.”

You stop talking at the sound of chucking, your throat running dry. Josh hoots with laughter across from you, holding his stomach as all the attention in the restaurant is brought to your table.

“You thought- I was gonna marry you?” He says between his laughs, wiping a tear from his eyes. You couldn’t find the funny in this situation, feeling embarrassed, like a child who had been called out for having an accident in front of the class.

“That’s a good one, bunny!” His laughter calms down a bit, and he looks at your pained face “wait…you're serious?”

“Yes! We’ve been together for what? Ten years, what are you waiting for?!” Your voice sounded desperate, feeling helpless to the situation at hand. Josh snorts, bringing his hand up to his face.

You couldn’t take it anymore, standing up and leaving without looking back, Josh continued to laugh at your retreating form, trying to catch his breath so he could speak.

“Wait- buns-- where are you going? You gotta pay the check!”

As you walk away from the table, the weight of disappointment and humiliation settles heavily on your shoulders. The sound of Josh's laughter echoes in your ears, intensifying the pain. You fight back tears, determined to maintain some dignity in this situation.

I'm just so tired to share my nights

I wanna cry and I wanna love

Celebrity News @celebnews

Footage of famous singer Y/n having an argument with her boyfriend Josh Solace at 5-Star restaurant ‘Catch 35’. http://you.tbe/wgsj76

Akrio @kiroarts

replying to @celebnews

WTFFF - are they still together ?!?!

Miss Vidzy @casanova replying to @celebnews

OH MY GOD, look at Y/n she crying! Poor baby!

C0rnzy @real_name_hidden

Looks like Y/n just got a wake up call. #NoMoreLoveSongs

But all my tears have been used up

Celebrity News @celebnews

Josh Solace, popular singer Y/n’s boyfriend, sighted several times with Bethany Winterburg. Is this the start of an open relationship? Or a devastating breakup?

Kaden @anonymouse

replying to @celebnews

What the hell! Didn’t they just have an argument yesterday?!

User @usernamenotfound

He hurt my Y/n. He’ll die.

You clicked your phone off, placing it faced down on your sheets. A groan escapes your lips as you turn to flip over, struggling as yesterday’s dress restricted your movement.

The room was dark, curtains shutting out the sunlight attempting to spill in. One day, it had been a day since your fight with Josh and he already had found a new girl.

You had scrolled through the internet all night, finding more and more photos of him and Bethany. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out Josh’s relationship with Bethany wasn’t new, it was something he had been doing behind your back.

It felt like your whole life was a lie, all you had ever done was love Josh, and you believed wholeheartedly that he loved you too. A tear descends down your cheek, the moisture mixing up with your makeup, burning your eye.

More tears begin to fall down your face as you begin to pathetically sob. Clasping your hands to cover your eyes as your lip drawback as you cry.

“Fuck!” You shout into the nothingness, falling deeper and deeper into despair. “Fuck! Fuck!”

Your hands smooth into your hair, grabbing at your strands as you start to pull. You whine out of agony, frustration evident in your voice. “God fucking damnit!”

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up

FSNEW @famoussingersnewsoffical

It’s been a week since the break up with Y/n L/n and Josh Solace, and while Josh is getting busy with his new lover Bethany Winterberg, we have no updates on Y/n. It seems the singer might be going dark, as all her social media are inactive and concerts have been canceled. Is this the fall of our greatest star?

Courtney <3 @thegoat56

replying to @famoussingersnewsoffical

I ordered my tickets 6 months ago and now they’ve been canceled. Disappointed !!

Aurelius @justartie

replying to @thegoat56

I blame Josh! How dare he cheat on Y/n with that blondie. I bet she has no talent whatsoever. #JusticeforY/n

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up

“Y/n!”

A couple knocks could be heard at your front door, before a jingle of keys clashing together. Soon the front door opens, and your name is called once again. “Y/n!”

Footsteps walk down the hallway before a soft knocking is heard at your bedroom door. Dave creaks the door open, peeping his head in before he opens the door fully.

You sat at a chair placed at the window of your balcony, staring out into the city. Beside the leg of the table were some empty bottles of liquor.

“Ay Y/n,” Dave sighs into his hand.

You look over your shoulder, taking a swig of your drink. “Go away Dave.”

“Y/n, the people are worried about you, and what’s this about canceling concerts, you never ran that by me-”

“It’s me on that stage right?” You take another sip, “if I cancel, I cancel, so fucking what.”

“When you cancel, I lose money.” He protested, walking over to take the liquor from your hands “look, I have you for a concert downtown tonight, if you could just sober up.”

“Leave me alone!” You shove him away, standing up as you finish the last of the liquid. “I don’t wanna fucking sing, how the hell…am I supposed to sing a song about that…cheating bastard.”

“Because that’s your brand Y/n, that is your career-”

“Then fuck this job.”

Dave stops himself from fighting with you further, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. He rubs the middle of his eyebrows before sighing, “look, just hang tight. I’ll handle this.”

He leaves the room, closing the door behind him. You sit back in your chair, leaning your head against the glass window before mumbling.

“I need another drink.”

On another love, another love

All my tears have been used up, up

Lorna Newell @lornanothere

[http//jnn.nws/ahsu6ja] JNN Article - A 26 year-old female was found dead, police say she was stabbed in an alleyway, probably taken by surprise. The victim’s name, Bethany Winterburg. Read more…

ElliottTheIdiott @intellengencenotfound454

replying to @lornanothere

I’m just gonna say it, it’s what she deserves.

Izzy @lillesaremyfavorite876

replying to @intellengencenotfound454

You seriously think someone has to die just cause they happened to have an affair with a celebrity's boyfriend? That poor girl’s family.

*{P.A.N.D.A}* @hamburger8756

replying to @lornanothere

I heard Deku is going to be helping the police with the investigation !!

Mitsu [commissions open ] @artbymitsu

replying to @hamburger8756

Oh great, here come the hero stans….

And if somebody hurts you, I wanna fight

“Good evening Ms. L/n”

You only give the door-man a simple nod, entering the lobby of your penthouse. A sweet scent of vanilla entering your nostrils and the soft melody of a piano entered your ears.

A brown paper bag was in your arms, small clinks could be heard as you neared the elevator. You clicked the button, waiting a moment for the elevator to reach the bottom before you entered through the sliding doors.

In the back of the elevator was a mirror, showing you a reflection of yourself. Damn…you’ve really changed. Your hair was neglected, stringy and oily, and your face was still recovering from all the crying.

You tear your eyes away from the mirror pressing your floor on the elevator before pulling out your phone.

“Beathany is dead?” You mutter under your breath, clicking onto the article to read it through. The elevator doors open, and you continue to look at your phone as you unconsciously walk towards your home, apparently the girl was forced into an alleyway while walking home and was brutally murdered in the dark. “Yikes…”

You continue to scroll, looking at the comments, most were people giving their condolences or expressing their shock of the situation. Except…this one commenter, they kept replying the same thing over and over again.

‘Long live Y/n’

You kept scrolling and scrolling, the same message from the same account over and over again.

A small tud makes you pause, shoving your phone back into your pocket as you look over your shoulder to see where the sound came from.

“Um…hello?” You meant to shout, but it was barely a whisper.

You stare down the hallway, clenching your jaw as you wait to see if anybody would come around the corner. A sudden flash behind you makes you snap your attention to the front door, the sound of a camera’s shutter being all too familiar.

The door slams shut before you could see who it was, sounds of heavy footsteps running behind the door could be heard. You let out a loud groan, placing your paper bags down by your doorstep before knocking on the door of Penthouse 817.

“Hey! The press isn't allowed up here! I will sue you so hard!”

The door clicks open from your harsh pounding, creaking open to show a very empty penthouse still undergoing construction. You click your tongue, pushing the door further open as you step inside.

“I really need you to delete that photo, look….you delete that photo and…I’ll have my manager Dave hook you up with free albums,” you creep inside the penthouse, the scent of freshly cut wood wafting in the air. “I’ll even sign each album for you.”

It was mainly dark inside the penthouse, only lights coming from the ones the construction people used. You turned a corner entering a very large living room which had a small luminate room in the back.

“Gotcha.” You mutter.

You walk over to the room, grabbing the door knob before you swing the door open expecting to find a young fan, but your face drops at what you're greeted with instead.

The walls were covered with photos, each of them had one focus, you.

But it wasn’t just any photo of you, all of them were taken either from your own home, when you were disguised and out with Josh, there were even some of you showering. There were desks and drawers, and a small computer system in the corner, the home screen a photo of you sleeping, aside it a basket of bloody tampons which you could only assume were yours.

You froze with shock, just standing still in the door frame as you read some words which were scribbled onto the only clear wall. ‘Long live Y/n’

But my hands been broken one too many times

“Y/n are you okay?”

You take a long sip of your drink, placing the glass down as you move to wave Dave off, the chubby man checking you over for any injuries, you push his hands away. “I’m fine Dave, just shocked.”

“Good,” he lets out a sigh, pulling out his phone and sending a few messages. “I’ll arrange a new house for you to stay in, you're in need of some new scenery.”

You stay silent, swigging your drink as you watch the police officers enter and exit the penthouse. One man exits the room, his outfit drawing your attention as it was not a police uniform, but a hero costume.

He was a fairly tall man, packed with lean muscles, and broad across the shoulders, the total opposite of your beer bellied manager. His green suit and hair gives away his identity easily, number one Pro Hero Deku.

You stare at him, watching him talk with some of the officers. He pauses for a second, turning his head slightly to meet eyes with you.

You blink as you dart your eyes away, David was right, you did need a new environment. You’d only moved into this penthouse to live closer to Josh, in hopes that he’d move in with you one day.

Memories of your old apartment came to mind, you never sold it because of the moments you had shared there. It was located in Musutafu, just a 30 minute trip from where you lived now.

“Dave.” You tap the man’s shoulder, distracting him from his phone call. “I'm gonna stay at my old place.”

“Hold on, I'll call you back,” Dave says into the phone before bringing his full attention to you. “Y/n, I can have a Dimond hotel ready in 5 minutes, it's an all inclusive spa and everything, it’ll help you feel better and maybe you’ll want to sing again.”

“I’m going to my old place,” you tell him again. “I’m going back to Musutafu.”

You walk off before he could say anything, entering your penthouse to pack a bag with everything you need. You open your wardrobe and begin to stuff the bag with random shirts and pants.

You drop the bag onto your bad, grabbing the 3 bottles from your brown paper bag and shoving them in the bag, leaving one out and opening it. The taste of the clear liquor is bitter, but it fills that bottomless feeling inside you.

You zip the bag up before walking out the room, heading down the steps back towards Dave. He’s on the phone once again, but when he sees you coming he quickly hangs up and rushes over to you.

“Y/n, please reconsider, just stay at the hotel for a couple of days, and get yourself right in the head. You’ve just been through something traumatic.”

“No, Dave.” You say again, taking another swig of your drink. “I’m going home.”

“You’re drunk,” he says again, moving in front of you so you couldn’t walk out. “You can’t drive to Musutafu in your condition.”

“I’ll drive her.”

You and Dave look over to the side, and your eyes meet with a young tall man. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” it was Deku, he gave an awkward smile as he walked in further. “But I live in Musutafu, and I wouldn’t mind taking her home.”

You look over at Dave, “and he’s a hero, no need to worry about my safety, problem solved.”

So I'll use my voice, I'll be so fucking rude

It was a smooth ride in the car, Deku had the radio playing in the background. It was one of your songs, you could tell by the melody even though the volume was very low.

Your bags were sitting in the back seat, and you held a half-empty bottle in between your lap. Occasionally you take a swig as you stare at the passing by street lights.

“So…” Deku clears his throat, “are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” You watch his finger drum on the steering wheel, it’s obvious he has something he wants to say. “Just say what you wanna say already.”

“Sorry!” he stiffens, “but..I’m actually a really big fan.”

“Of course you are,” you groan, relaxing more into the car seat, “you want an autograph or something for taking me home?”

“Not at all!” He says all too quickly, “being able to take you home is more than enough for me.”

You can’t help but smirk, chuckling under your breath. Izuku looks over at you and smiles as well, still a little bit embarrassed. “You’re cute, you know that,” you say before taking another sip, “the number one hero of Japan, is a fan of mine, that’s cute.”

“Wha- I really am! I have all your albums!” He panics, opening up the middle compartment and grabbing a CD.

You stare with amusement before bursting out into laughter, “I didn’t even know they sold these!” He lowers his head, embarrassed and you continue to laugh. “It's okay Deku, it’s okay! I’m just surprised, you're way more famous than me.”

“I’m not that-”

“Shut up, number one.” You interrupt him, “you won thousands awards all over town, and I’ve only got like 2 to my name.”

“Only 2?” He says with his eyebrows raised. “You deserve so much more!”

“Oh stop!” You put your hand up, “my whole brand is love songs, other song artists deserve it way more.”

“No way.” He says firmly, “your songs are from the heart, they reach deep parts inside us, even though their love songs it's just nice to listen to your voice.”

Silence settles between you two, a comfortable silence. You hadn’t even noticed how wide you were grinning, in just 5 minutes Deku had made you forget all about your troubles, and made you laugh.

“Hey, you really do live up to the legend.” You fold your hands into your lap, “saving people with a smile, making them forget all their worries.”

“I could say you do the same thing too,” he doesn’t look over at you, eyes stay on the road. “Your songs helped me through alot.”

The lights passing by on the street reflect in his eyes, “it’s a shame all this happened to a good person like you, I’m really sorry you have to go through this.”

“It’s just like what everyone online is saying.” You sigh, taking another swig of your drink, “ I’m finally catching up to reality.”

Silence falls between you two again and you start to recognize some of the buildings around you. “Are you hungry?” Deku asks, “I know a great burger spot around here.”

“Mo’s?” You ask.

“Yeah…”

Words, they always win, but I know I’ll lose

A paper bag sits in between you and Deku. You sat outside of the car, sitting on his trunk while he leaned on the car. You take a bite of the burger, savoring the juicy flavors that burst in your mouth. The familiar taste brings you comfort, and you feel a sense of gratitude for the small joys in life. Deku watches you eat, a warm smile on his face.

"Good, huh?" he asks, and you nod, your mouth too full to respond. You both munch on your burgers in contented silence, enjoying the simple pleasure of good food and good company.

As you finish your meal, you lean back against the car, staring up at the night sky. The stars twinkle above, and a sense of calm washes over you. It's moments like these that remind you of the beauty and resilience of life.

Deku breaks the silence, his voice gentle. "You know, even though it feels like your world is crashing down right now, remember that you have people who care about you. Your fans, your friends, and even someone like me, who just met you tonight."

You turn your head to look at him, his earnest expression making your heart ache. "Thank you, Deku," you say softly. "I appreciate your kindness and support. It means a lot to me."

He blushes slightly, scratching the back of his head. "I'm just doing what I can. Sometimes, all we need is someone to lean on, even if it's just for a little while."

“So, what do you think is gonna happen with the investigation?”

“It’s gonna be really suffocating, unfortunately,” Deku sighs. “The chief thinks the stalker might have something to do with Betheny’s murder.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the mention of Betheny. You knew being in the spotlight came with risks, but you never knew someone would be killed over you.

Deku's expression mirrors your sadness and concern. He shares a warm smile once you finally meet his eye. “You’re not alone Y/n.”

"I'm scared, Deku," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Scared for my life, scared for the people around me. I never wanted any of this. I just wanted to share my music with the world." You mutter under your breath, “my love for Josh..”

“Hey.” Deku reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on yours. "I understand.” His touch brings you a sliver of comfort. “How about this, let’s hang out tomorrow, get your mind off of things?”

You look at Deku, appreciating his offer. The idea of taking a break from the chaos sounds appealing, a chance to find some solace and regain a sense of normalcy, even if just for a little while.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "That sounds nice, Deku. I'd like that." You pause for a moment, contemplating the options. "What do you have in mind?"

He ponders for a moment, his brows furrowing as he thinks. "Well, how about we go to the park? It's a peaceful place, and we can take a walk, enjoy nature. Sometimes being surrounded by trees and fresh air can help clear the mind."

The thought of being in nature sounds appealing. It could be a temporary escape, a chance to focus on something other than the chaos that has consumed your life. "That sounds perfect," you reply.

Deku's smile widens, relieved that his suggestion resonated with you. "Great! We'll meet there tomorrow morning then. Take your time and rest tonight. We'll leave all the worries behind for a while."

“Sounds great.”

And I'd sing a song that'd be just ours

It had been a while since you actually went outside. It took you almost 30 minutes to decide on an outfit, and you were still unsure if you picked the right one. Choosing an outfit for your outing with Deku feels oddly important to you, as if it holds some significance beyond just a simple park visit.

But you were going to be late if you continued to switch outfits, so though you weren’t exactly satisfied you settled on some jeans and a blouse. It feels light and airy, perfect for a day at the park.

With a deep breath, you grab your bag and head out the door, ready to meet with Deku. It's a new day, a chance for a fresh start, and you're determined to make the most of it. The park wasn’t very far from your house, so you walked there, enjoying the sound of cars passing by.

You enter the park, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over you as you take in the lively atmosphere. The vibrant green of the grass, the colorful flowers in bloom, and the sound of laughter and conversations create an inviting ambiance.

As you stroll along the path, you observe the various scenes unfolding around you. Children running and playing, their infectious giggles filling the air. Couples sitting on benches, sharing tender moments and stealing affectionate glances. Dogs chasing after balls, their tails wagging with pure joy. The park seems to be a haven of happiness and connection, momentarily whisking away the weight of your worries.

Spotting a familiar figure in the distance, you make your way towards Deku. He's standing near a pond, watching as ducks glide across the water's surface. Like you, he was wearing sunglasses, but his green hair really gave off his identity. He turns around and catches sight of you, a bright smile spreading across his face.

"There you are!" Deku exclaims, his voice filled with delight. "You look amazing!"

You blush at his compliment, feeling a surge of warmth in your chest. "Thank you," you reply, returning the smile. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He chuckles and extends his arm towards the park. "Shall we walk and enjoy the beauty of this place together?"

“We shall.”

The gentle breeze rustles the leaves, and the sun casts a warm glow over everything, creating a serene atmosphere. As you walk, you engage in lighthearted conversation. Deku's presence brings a sense of comfort and ease, allowing you to momentarily forget the weight of your worries. He listens attentively to your words, his genuine interest shining through his expressive eyes. It felt nice to actually have someone pay attention to what you were saying.

“Y’know, my dream was never to become a singer,” you say as your and Deku’s laughter dies down from his previous joke. “I actually wanted to be a pro-hero.”

“What? Really?” Deku says, his eyes widening a little. “Well why didn’t you?”

As the sun begins its descent, casting a golden hue over the park, you find yourselves leaning on the fence over by the docks, the reflection of the sun shining over the river.

“My voice,” you say softly. “My parents had always said I was born to sing, and my quirk wasn’t really pro-hero worthy.”

Deku's brows furrow slightly, “well, what’s your quirk?”

You look over to him. Though your mouth is closed, your voice could still be heard next to him. “Oh you know, nothing really.”

He blinks a few times, trying to comprehend what happened. “Wait…are you talking with your mouth closed?”

“Yeah, that's my quirk.”

“Mhmm”

“Bingo!”

All the voices speak at the same time, but your mouth remains shut. Deku's eyes widen in astonishment, his gaze shifting between you and the voices that seem to emanate from nowhere. He takes a moment to process what he just witnessed before regaining his composure.

"That's incredible," he says, his voice filled with genuine fascination. "A quirk that allows you to speak without opening your mouth. That's definitely unique and could be quite useful in its own way."

You chuckle softly, appreciating his reaction. "Yeah, it has its advantages. I can communicate without making any sound, and it lets me sing my own backup vocals. But it's not exactly the type of quirk that would be useful in physical confrontations or saving people like a pro-hero would."

Deku nods, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I see. But you've found your own way to touch people's lives and bring them joy through your music. And that's something to be proud of."

You stare at him for a bit, his words echoing through your mind before you turn your attention back to the glistening river. “Yeah…I guess you're right.” His words resonate with you, a gentle reminder of the impact you've had on others through your songs. But you weren’t going to sing again, ever since you lost Josh, your motivation to sing seemed to disappear with him.

Deku senses the shift in your mood and places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Wanna grab a drink?”

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you turn to face him. "Sure, a drink sounds nice. Lead the way."

But I sang 'em all to another heart

As you step into the bar, the lively atmosphere washes over you. The low lighting casts a warm glow, and the sound of music fills the air. People are engaged in conversations, laughter, and the occasional clinking of glasses. The energy of the place is infectious, and you can't help but feel a sense of excitement.

Deku finds a cozy corner booth, away from the crowd but still close enough to soak in the ambiance. He motions for you to take a seat, and you settle in, taking in the sights and sounds around you. The bar has a rustic charm, with wooden accents and dimly lit vintage bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

“Do you know what you want to drink?” Deku asks.

You glance at the menu, scanning the variety of beverages available. From signature cocktails to classic spirits, there's something for everyone's taste. But you decide on something a little more simple. “Vodka lime.”

He nods before sliding out the booth. You watch as Deku makes his way to the bar, his green hair standing out in the dim lighting. He skillfully navigates through the crowd, eventually reaching the counter where the bartender awaits.

As you wait for Deku to return with the drinks, you take a deep breath, allowing yourself to relax. The soft chatter and laughter of the bar patrons create a comforting background ambiance.

After a short while, Deku returns with two glasses in hand, a smile lighting up his face. He carefully places the drinks on the table, sliding back into the booth. You notice the small lime slice perched on the rim of your glass, a vibrant touch of color against the clear liquid.

"Here you go," he says, his voice filled with warmth. "A vodka lime, just as you requested."

You raise your glass, a gesture of gratitude, and take a sip, relishing the refreshing combination of flavors. The tangy lime cuts through the smoothness of the vodka, creating a drink that's both invigorating and comforting.

Deku raises his own glass, a dark liquor inside, and clinks it against yours. "Cheers," he says, his eyes sparkling with genuine camaraderie.

"Cheers," you reply, a smile playing on your lips.

As the night progresses, you engage in conversations that range from light-hearted banter to deeper reflections. The drinks flow, but it's the genuine connection and shared experiences that truly leave an impact.

But the bar seems to quiet down as a woman walks onto the wooden stage at the bar. “Alright folks, for tonight's singing battle for $500 we have long time champion Sanda Hitoshi, and… Y/n Yoshito!”

You arch a brow at the call of your first name, but don’t think much of it since she hadn’t called you last. But Deku nudges you with his foot. “That you,” he whispers.

“What?” You say. “But I didn't sign up-”

“I did.” He says, “now go up there and sing.”

You watch a man come up onto the stage, everyone else in the bar looking around for the second contestant. Your initial instinct is to resist, to find an excuse to back out, but the determined look in Deku's eyes and the trust he has placed in you make it difficult to refuse.

Reluctantly, you take a deep breath, finishing the rest of your drink. You stand up from the booth, your heart pounding in your chest, and make your way towards the stage. As you step onto the wooden platform, the spotlight finds you, casting a warm glow upon your figure.

The murmurs in the bar gradually subside, all eyes now fixed upon you and Sanda Hitoshi, the reigning champion of the singing battle. The crowd's anticipation hangs in the air, and you can't help but feel a mixture of nerves and determination. It had been a long time since you last did this.

The woman on stage, the host of the singing battle, looks at you expectantly. "Well, well, it seems we have a brand new contestant. Y/n Yoshito, are you ready to give it your all?"

You take a deep breath, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Yes, I am," you reply, your voice carrying a newfound confidence.

Sanda smirks at you, his confidence radiating from his lips. He leaned in close to you, “hope you're ready to lose.”

The music begins, a familiar melody filling the bar, and like karaoke the lyrics appear on the screen in front of you. Sanda begins first, his voice fills the bar with a powerful resonance. The crowd reacts, cheering and clapping along to his performance. You watch him closely, his confidence evident in every move he makes.

With the pressure and the competitive atmosphere, you begin to feel small. The spotlight turns onto you when it's your turn to sing, the lyrics appearing on the screen in front of you. You watch the words pass by, opening your mouth to sing, but nothing comes out.

The crowd began to mummer, many of their comments sounded very negative. You want to apologize and walk off the stage, embarrassed that you even came up here. But you meet Deku’s eyes, he had moved from the booth in the corner to one the table by the stage.

He smiles at you, a small nod that says so much despite the small gesture. ‘You can do this’

Drawing strength from his support, you take a deep breath, willing yourself to push through the fear and find your voice. The lyrics on the screen blur momentarily as you close your eyes, shutting out the distractions and doubts that surround you.

In that moment of stillness, you find a sense of clarity. The music resonates within you, touching the deepest parts of your soul. With renewed determination, you open your eyes and let the melody guide you.

As the first words escape your lips, a surge of energy courses through you. The initial hesitation gives way to a growing confidence, and your voice begins to fill the bar. The crowd's murmurs transform into hushed anticipation, their attention now fully on you.

With each passing note, you pour your heart into the performance, allowing the lyrics to carry your emotions. Confidence begins to sweep within you, and you start walking back and forth on the stage and adding a little more movement to your performance. The doubts and insecurities gradually fade away, replaced by the sheer joy of expressing yourself through music. The stage becomes your sanctuary, a space where you can be vulnerable yet powerful.

The crowd's initial skepticism gradually gives way to awe and appreciation. They witness the transformation unfolding before their eyes, witnessing the raw emotions and undeniable talent that you possess. It comes to Sanda's turn, but you don’t let him. Singing over him and taking his part of the song.

The egotistical man doesn't seem to appreciate it, attempting to sing over you. As Sanda tries to tune you out, attempting to regain the spotlight, a fire ignites within you. You refuse to be silenced or overshadowed. With unwavering determination, your voice rises above his, resolute and filled with passion.

Your impromptu duet becomes a battle of voices, a clash of emotions and artistry. Each note you sing carries an intensity that captivates the crowd, their attention shifting from Sanda to you.

As the song reaches its climax, you and Sanda’s voices soar, you’re now staring into his eyes. You can tell he’s trying to hit a higher note than you. With the power of your quirk, you continue to hold the note, and grin at the boy.

“You think you're better than me but you're not--!” You hold out the note, hitting high notes with a confidence that surprises even yourself. The harmonies intertwine, creating a symphony of voices that reverberates through the bar, leaving everyone in awe.

And as the final note hangs in the air, a stunned silence fills the room. The audience, once divided, erupts into thunderous applause, their cheers and claps resonating with genuine admiration. It's clear that your performance has touched their hearts, transcending the boundaries of a simple singing battle.

Sanda stands there, momentarily speechless, his ego shattered. The crowd continues to cheer, some people even standing up, acknowledging the power of your voice and the strength you displayed in the face of adversity. You step off the stage, feeling a mix of exhilaration and relief coursing through your veins.

You run over to Deku, who’s still clapping a big grin on his face. You jump into his arms, squeezing him with all the passion you had left over from singing on stage.

“Wait a minute!” A random voice calls out from the bar, “that’s Y/n L/n!”

“Isn’t that Deku?”

Startled by the sudden recognition, you quickly break away from Deku's embrace and exchange a brief glance with him. Without hesitation, you grab Deku's hand and make a swift exit from the bar, blending into the bustling city streets.

You drag him away down the street, the two of you laughing. “I think that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” you sigh.

Deku laughs along with you, the sound of joy and relief mingling in the air. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replies, a genuine smile gracing his face. "You were incredible up there, Y/n. It was like watching a star shine."

As you continue walking through the vibrant city streets, the excitement of the performance still coursing through your veins. You find a bench along the street and sit down, catching your breath and allowing the adrenaline to subside. Deku joins you, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of the bustling city.

"I've never been able to go to any of your concerts, I usually just enjoy your music online, but-" Deku eyes sparkling with admiration. "It's like a whole different side of you came alive on that stage."

You lean back on the bench, a contented smile playing on your lips. "Maybe it's because you were there, cheering me on," you muse.

Deku reaches out and takes your hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I’m glad I was able to make a difference.”

You can’t tell if it was the alcoholic in your stomach, or just the warmth Deku’s presence brought to you. As your cheeks flush with a gentle blush, you meet his gaze, your eyes reflecting the many emotions swirling within you.

In that moment, the world around you seems to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in this intimate space. The city's hustle and bustle become distant whispers as you focus on the presence of Deku, his hand holding yours, and the unspoken connection that binds you together.

A soft breeze rustles through the air, carrying with it a hint of anticipation and possibility. The night sky above twinkles with stars, mirroring the spark in Deku's eyes. It's as if the universe itself is silently encouraging you to take a leap of faith, to embrace the budding feelings that have begun to blossom between you.

“Deku..” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please,” he whispers back. “Call me Izuku.”

As the words hang in the air, the silence between you becomes overloaded with possibility. He’s leaning in closer. The anticipation builds between you, the space between your lips diminishing with each passing moment. Time seems to stand still as the gap between you closes, and your heart pounds in your chest.

Finally, your lips meet in a tender and electrifying kiss. The touch of his lips against yours ignites a fire within, a warmth that spreads throughout your being. It's a moment filled with vulnerability, trust, and the sweet realization that something beautiful is unfolding between you.

As you break apart, a soft smile graces both of your faces, and the world comes back into focus.

“Y/n?”

The moment is cut short though, by the call of your name. Your eyes widen, “Josh?”

“Hey…bunny.” He says.

Shock washes over you as you hear Josh's voice, and your heart skips a beat. It's as if time has frozen, and you find yourself caught in a mixture of conflicting emotions. Memories of the past colliding with the present.

You release Izuku’s hand, standing up from the bench. "Josh... What are you doing here?" you manage to ask.

Josh's gaze shifts between you and Izuku, before he lifts his phone to show the posts of you at the bar. "I... I heard your voice. I followed it. I didn't expect to find you here like this."

“I’ll um, give you two some space.” Izuku clears his throat, sensing the tension. Izuku gracefully steps back, giving you and Josh the space you need to address the unexpected reunion. He moves a few steps away, but you can still feel his supportive presence lingering in the background.

“What do you want?” You turn your attention back to Josh. "I didn't expect to see you here either."

He lowers his phone, his gaze softening as he takes in your presence. "I know it's been a long time, Y/n. I've missed you."

You hesitate for a moment, your mind racing with thoughts and conflicting feelings. You furrowed your brows, “you cheated on me.”

"Listen, Y/n," Josh continues, taking a step closer. "I made a lot of mistakes in the past, and I've spent a long time regretting them.” You're frozen still as he comes closer, the serenity in his voice almost sounding real. He reaches out a hand as if to touch you, but quickly withdraws it. "I know I messed up, Y/n. I can't change the past, but I want us to try again. I love you."

His words were everything you wanted to hear. And you glance over at Izuku, who’s trying to pretend he isn’t watching. While your connection with Izuku has been growing, the history and familiarity with Josh still hold weight.

You take a deep breath. “No.”

Josh's expression shifts into shock. “What?” It’s obvious he didn’t expect that. “But bunny, I've apologized.” The gentleness in his earlier voice is long gone now.

“And I don’t forgive you,” you say. “You cheated on me Josh, exploited me, laughed in my face.”

"You're being unfair, Y/n!" he exclaims, his voice laced with frustration.

You hated this. You hated how fast your heart was beating. You hated the little voice in your head begging you to take Josh back, to return to your little state of love. You hated the part of you that actually believed Josh’s words.

He continues, "People make mistakes, and I've changed. I love you, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

“The damage has already been done Josh,” your voice is steady despite the emotions swirling within you. “We’re done.”

Josh's face contorts and he takes a step back. "Fine," he says through gritted teeth. "But don't think this is the end. I’m all you’ve ever known, nobody else in the world will love you as much as I did."

With that said, he walks off, leaving you to stand there. Izuku approaches, his presence a pillar of strength, and he wraps an arm around you. “You okay?” He asks.

You turn around and shove your face into his chest throwing punches into him. “It’s not fair Izuku!”

Izuku holds you tightly, each punch like a little tap on his torso. "I know, Y/n," he murmurs.

Tears spill out your eyes, and you want to scream out of frustration. "It's okay to let it out," he whispers, his voice filled with compassion. A soft hand rubbing your back, you allow yourself to surrender to the overwhelming wave of emotions, the frustration, and the pain.

The tears flow freely, carrying with them the weight of disappointment and heartache. Izuku remains by your side, offering his silent support as you let your emotions be heard. Eventually, your sobs turned into small whimpers, your arms had grown tired now and you stood limp in Izuku’s arms.

“I like you Izuku,” you whisper. “I really do.” You can feel the vibrations of his humming through his chest, and you peel your face off of him to meet his eye. “But I don’t think I’m gonna be able to love you in the way you deserve.”

Izuku's gaze meets yours, filled with understanding and empathy. He takes a moment to absorb your words, his expression softening. You pull away from him, wiping your own tears. “I’m sorry Izuku. But Josh is right…”

Before he could speak, you turned your back and began to walk away. Izuku could only watch, unsure of what to say himself.

And I wanna cry, I wanna learn to love

As you shifted in bed, the sound of bottles clinking could be heard. Once again you drowned yourself in liquor to ease off the pain spiking up in your heart. The sun shining in through the curtains was enough to wake you.

You groaned, head beginning to ache as soon as you sat up. The room seemed to spin for a moment, and you steadied yourself against the nearby dresser. You pulled open one of the drawers, hoping to find some new clothes that didn’t reek of sweat and alcohol.

Rummaging through the drawer, you managed to find a fresh set of clothes tucked away in the back. You discarded your worn and disheveled attire and quickly changed into clean garments.

As you throw your old clothes to the laundry backset in the corner of the room, you stop at the sight of one of your old notebooks. It’s opened with a pen sitting on top of it, along with an almost empty bottle of liquor.

You must’ve been writing while drunk.

Curiosity piqued, you picked up the notebook, flipping through its pages. The words scribbled across the paper were a mix of blurry lines, barely legible in your intoxicated state. It was evident that you had attempted to write while under the influence, but the resulting pages held little coherent meaning. Some words were readable, lyrics that connected in a way you couldn’t really understand at the moment.

A little disappointed, you close the notebook and toss it onto your unmade bed. With a sigh, you look around the room, though your head was still aching, you were filled with boredom.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and take a moment to assess your appearance. Your reflection revealed signs of fatigue and the lingering traces of tears. You looked like shit.

Another sigh emits from your lips, and you crash back onto your bed, feeling under your pillow for your phone. As usual it’s bombarded with tweets, and likes.

Celebrity News @celebnews

{3 Image Attached} Celebrity singer Y/n L/n sighted singing at the local karaoke bar in Musutafu. Seems out little romance singer might have found a new muse.

AnimeBrigade @macetotheface

replying to @celebnews

Is that Deku? Holy shi-

Dont Mori, Be Happy @fatdeadhard

replying to @celebnews

Look at how Deku’s holding her! Move over Y/n! It’s my turn

Pepsi Chan @aloneboi

replying to @fatdeadhard

Nah, Deku move over. Lemme hold sweet Y/n

“They work fast,” you mutter under your breath, closing Twitter after scrolling through the many comments from your recent appearance yesterday.

Lying on your bed, you allowed yourself a moment of respite, staring at the ceiling as thoughts swirled in your mind. You glance over at your window, seeing how it’s a perfectly sunny day, you should probably get some fresh air.

As you open the window, a gentle breeze wafts into the room, carrying with it the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The warm rays of sunlight bathe your face, the heat irritating your eyes a little, but either way it instantly uplifts your spirits.

You decide to go for a walk, to let your thoughts wander and find peace amidst the serene surroundings. As you step out onto the streets, the hustle and bustle of the city greets you. Mainly just people riding their bikes, or going out on a morning jog. Mainly people going about their daily lives.

You walk aimlessly, allowing your footsteps to guide you through the winding paths. Eventually finding yourself by the river you had visited with Deku yesterday. You take a seat by a nearby bench, and stare out at the rippling water.

“For someone so young, it seems like you’ve got a lot of problems on your plate.”

You turn to the voice of an old woman, she’s sitting on the second bench near the one you were sitting at. She’s knitting, a bag full of yarn sitting by her feet.

“Just alot going on in my life right now,” you turn back to the river. “ I just don’t know what to do.”

“Life is filled with challenges,” the old woman nods, her eyes filled with wisdom. “I believe that it's through facing those challenges that we grow and find our strength."

“I just don’t know if I have the strength to face these challenges,” you mutter.

The old woman's eyes soften as she continues knitting, her fingers working with practiced ease. She looks at you with a compassionate gaze and says, "strength is not always about having all the answers or being fearless. It's about acknowledging your vulnerabilities and persevering despite them. It's about taking one step at a time, even when the path seems uncertain."

She pauses for a moment, as if contemplating her next words. “Tell me dear, where is it in life, that you find yourself the most confident?”

You lean back into the bench, taking a moment to think about her question. “I guess, when I’m on stage, singing.”

“Ah so you are a singer,” the old woman chuckles. “I find that most singers see music as a refuge. Their way of expressing themselves and connecting with others.”

You stay quiet as a breeze passes by, your hair tickling your face slightly. The old woman's eyes sparkle with understanding as she observes your contemplative state. "Music has a way of touching our souls," she continues, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "It allows us to express emotions that may be difficult to put into words.”

As the old woman resumes her knitting, you take a deep breath and let the warmth of her presence envelop you. For your whole life, you’d written songs about how happy and in love you were, but not once had you ever considered writing about your sadness.

You wanted to learn to love Deku, to be able to appreciate him for showing you kindness and understanding during the lowest point of your life. But you didn’t know how. You had been burnt out of songs about love, you had nothing to sing to him. But, your sadness.

The old woman's knitting needles click softly in the background, almost as if they're providing a rhythmic backdrop to your thoughts.

You turn to her, a warm smile on your face and the old woman meets your gaze with a kind and knowing smile, her knitting needles pausing for a moment. There's a sense of compassion and understanding in her eyes, as if she recognizes the weight of your emotions and the complexity of your situation.

“Thanks.”

She nods, wordless acknowledging your gratitude. You stand up from the bench, with a newly found determination, you sprint, heading straight back to your home.

As you run back to your home, a surge of energy courses through your veins. The weight of uncertainty and doubt begins to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose and inspiration. The rhythmic clicking of the old woman's knitting needles fades into the distance as you focus on the path ahead.

Arriving at your home, you feel a sense of urgency and creativity burning within you. You enter your room and immediately head to your bedroom, snatching your notebook from off the bed. You slide over to your desk, flipping through the pages and finding a blank page.

With each stroke of the pen, the words pour out onto the page. The lyrics flow effortlessly, capturing the essence of your sadness, your doubts, and your longing. The melodies intertwine with the words, weaving a tapestry of vulnerability and strength.

You begin to sing the newly crafted verses, testing out each lyric with different tones of rhythm. Everything begins to flow as you begin to use the beat of the old lady’s rhythmic clicking. With each verse, you allow yourself to fully embrace the rawness of your emotions. You sing of your struggles, your doubts, and your yearning for a deeper connection.

The song takes shape, evolving with each line and chord progression. Despite your habit to make the song more high beat, and happy, you're determined to explore a different side of your emotions.

And I wanna cry, I wanna learn to love

You worked until nightfall, obsessed with your new project. It had been a whole since you felt this determined, and the song is completed by the end of the day. You sat at your desk proud, staring at the page in the notebook which was covered with eraser marks, smudges, and even some dampness from your tears.

There's a sense of pride and accomplishment in seeing the culmination of your hard work and creative expression on the page. But your moment is interrupted by your phone. It was your manager, Dave. Perfect timing.

“Hey Dave!” You answer.

“Y/n, what’s this I’m seeing all over the internet?” He doesn’t even greet you, “why are you frolicking with that Pro-Hero?”

You lean back in your office chair, “you mean the bar thing? We were just hanging out.”

“No,” he says more sternly. “I mean the pictures of you making out with him.”

The what. You put the one on speaker before switching over to the app, finding it easily as the post was number one on trending.

User @usernamenotfound

{5 Images Attached} I see you…

Trash Mammal @hairylegs

replying to @usernamenotfound

Okay. I think I’m done with the internet for a while now,

iitsTre_ @suliom

replying to @usernamenotfound

Okay, so this happened. And I’m all for it. #Y/n&Deku

Hanna the Dinosaur @roar

replying to @suliom

Nah, I’m loyal to the og. #Y/n&Josh

JayyKT @yaboyJT

replying to @roar

Yeah cause supporting a toxic relationship is perfectly fine.

“D-dave I,” You continue to scroll through the comments. “I-I don’t know how this happened.”

“Cause you’re careless and irresponsible.” Dave’s voice is firm, a type of anger he rarely ever used with you. “But we can clear everything up since you and Josh are back together.”

“Dave…Josh and I aren’t getting back together,” you stammer. “I…I think I might have feelings for Deku. I even wrote a song, I’m we can use this-”

“You what?” His voice is chilling. “Do you know how much I- do you know what I did to have Josh want to get back with you? A-and you can’t just start making new songs, especially about Deku! Josh is your career, you write songs about Josh, and only Josh!”

As he stammers, you furrow your brows at the phone. Did he just say he paid Josh to say he wanted to get back with you?

"Dave... Did you... Did you pay Josh to pretend he wanted to get back with me?" your voice trembles of disbelief and hurt.

There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Dave finally speaks. “I did what was best for your career Y/n, cause it seems like only one of us seems to actually care.”

Anger rises within you as you try to comprehend the extent of his manipulation. "You don't get to decide who I should be with or what songs I should write, Dave."

"Y/n, I've invested a lot in your career. I've worked hard to make you successful, and sometimes tough decisions have to be made for the sake of that success.”

Your anger intensifies, fueled by a sense of betrayal. "You had no right to manipulate my personal life Dave. I trusted you, and you took advantage of that trust. This is not how a manager should treat their artist." There's a brief pause before you continue, “I’m going to have to call you back, I need time to think, and maybe consider getting a new manager.”

You end the call, and drop your phone onto your desk. “What the fuck,” you mutter, repeating the words in your mind over and over. You had known Dave to be very pushy, but you didn’t mind it, you owed it to him for helping you jumpstart your career.

But as the weight of the situation settles on your shoulders, and you realize that it's time for a change, you can no longer continue with a manager who doesn't respect your boundaries and manipulates your personal life for the sake of your career.

The phone vibrates on the desk, and you quickly pick it up and answer. “Dave fuck of-”

“Y/n?”

“Izuku?”

"Yes, it's me," Izuku's voice comes through the phone, filled with concern. "I saw what happened on the internet, and I wanted to make sure you're okay. Are you alright?"

Your anger and frustration begin to dissipate, replaced by a mixture of surprise and relief. "Izuku, I... I don't know what to say. It's been a crazy day, and I just found out some things about my manager that I never expected."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Izuku responds empathetically. “But, I actually called for another reason.”

Curiosity piques within you as Izuku's words hang in the air. "Another reason? What is it, Izuku?"

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Izuku speaks with a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Y/n, I’ve been thinking about what you said…and I, I don’t care-”

Your heart stills at the sound of glass shattering, and Izuku quiets down as well. You quickly stand up from the desk, looking towards your door. That sound definitely came from your house, and since you were home alone, that meant that someone broke in.

“Y/n? What was that?”

The conversation with Izuku is immediately forgotten as your focus shifts to the potential danger in your own home. Without wasting another moment, you hurriedly whisper into the phone, "Izuku, I think someone just broke into my house."

You quickly step over to your bedroom door, cringing at the sound of your barefoot sticking to the hardwood floor. You slowly click your bedroom door lock, before backing away from the entrance.

Izuku was still talking on the phone, but with your concentration on being silent, you can’t seem to focus on what he’s saying. “I’m coming Y/n!”

You take deep breaths as your back hits the wall in your room, your eyes landing on the many glass bottles sitting on your bedside table. Without a moment's hesitation, you grab one of the bottles, feeling its cool surface in your hand.

The sound of footsteps approaching your bedroom door grows louder, and your heart pounds in your chest. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you grip the bottle tightly. The door knob jiggles, the intruder, struggling against the door lock.

They pound at the door, aggressive knocks that scare you more and more. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you try to remain as quiet as possible, hoping that the intruder will give up and leave. But the pounding continues, growing more forceful with each strike. It becomes clear that they are determined to break through the door.

“Open this door now!”

You recognize that voice. Dave? As you strain to listen through the door, your heart sinks as you confirm that the voice belongs to Dave. The realization fills you with fear and confusion. Why would your manager be breaking into your house?

He’s able to kick a hole in the bottle part of your door, hand reaching in for the door knob to let himself in. Gripping the glass bottle tightly, you make a split-second decision, throwing the bottle at his hand.

The man lets out a loud groan once the glass shatters upon impact with his hand. “You fucking bitch, I’m gonna kill you!”

You reach for your phone, forgetting you had Izuku on the line. "Izuku, it's Dave. He's breaking into my house. I don't know what to do."

He doesn’t respond, the only sound from his air is just fast paced movement and heavy breathing.

“Do you know how much I’ve done for you Y/n?” Dave continued to kick around the hole he made, opening it up more. “What I've done? You don’t get to cast me aside, no, no, you don’t.”

“Dave, your fucking insane!” You scream back, gripping another bottle in readiness to defend yourself again. “You’ve actually lost it this time!”

His foot falls through the hole, making it big enough for a person to crawl through. “I hired that stalker you know? I knew that dumbass Josh would get caught with that stupid girl. He was so careless, so reckless, he put everything at stake.” Dave’s ab;e to unlock the door, pushing it so hard it practically comes off the hinges.

“That stalker was going to scare you, scare you so badly you’d listen to everything I told you to do.” His boot crunch against the fallen glass on the ground. “I killed Bethany for you Y/n, as your manager, I’d do anything for you.”

The reflection of the knife in his hand increases your heart rate. You begin to throw bottles at him, but with each throw your precision is affected by the fear instilled in your mind. “After everything I’ve done. You’d just fire me like that?” He laughs, a chuckle so chilling. “I don’t think so.”

"Dave, please," you plead, your voice filled with desperation and a hint of hope. "You don't have to do this. We can find another way. Just put the knife down and let's talk. We can figure this out."

But Dave's expression twists into a malicious grin, his eyes filled with madness. He lunges at you with alarming speed, the knife glinting in the dim light. Panic floods your senses as you desperately search for an escape route.

In a moment of instinct, you make a split-second decision. You grab a nearby chair and swing it at Dave, hoping to create enough distance between you. The impact catches him off guard, momentarily stunning him and giving you a chance to make a run for it.

But you slip on one of the glass shards on the ground and fall onto it, groaning as it stabs into your arms. With adrenaline surging through your veins, you’re able to quickly recover, and attempt to stand up, but a hand grips your ankle.

“No! Stop!” You scream, feeling him pulling you towards him. “Stop it. Please!”

Another crash emits, as glass shards fly into the room along with a body. A loud thump echoes through the floorboards as Deku lands in your apartment, he moves quickly, appending your attacker.

Red and blue flashing lights reflect in the room, and sit on the floor, your breaths come in ragged gasps as you try to process what just happened.

But all my tears have been used up

You were sitting on the edge of an ambulance, wrapped in one of the blankets provided by the EMTs. There were many police cars surrounding your apartment, as well as new vans trying to get as much footage as they could from afar.

You watched as Dave was forced into the back of a police car, he was shouting many obscenities, promising that he would be coming back. You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, seeking a small measure of comfort and protection.

Deku was speaking with some of the officers, having to explain the situation since he was the first pro-hero on sight.

“Miss L/n?”

You look over to the side, finding a well dressed lady. She holds out a card to you, “I know this might not be the best time, but I’m Miyahara Mika, after everything that’s happened you’re going to be looking for a new manager. I’d like to be one of your first options.”

Taking the card from her, you read her name. Before you could say anything, Deku walks over, “I’m sorry, no questions right now.” He leads the girl away, sending her back behind the police tape with the other bystanders.

You appreciate Izuku's attentiveness to give you space, but also made a mental note to contact Mika once the immediate aftermath had settled.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You take a moment to collect yourself before responding to Deku's question. His concern is evident in his eyes, and you appreciate his presence in this chaotic moment. "A little shaken, but physically unharmed," you reply. " I'm grateful that you were here and intervened when you did. Thank you, Izuku."

You pause, taking in a deep breath to steady yourself. "But what about you?" you ask, genuinely concerned. "Did you get hurt? Are you okay?"

He chuckles, “I’m fine, and I’m just glad you're okay.”

“Miss L/n, there’s someone who wants to see you, um his name is Josh Solace.” An officer comes up to the side of the ambulance, pointing over to the side where you can see Josh being held back by some officers.

With a sigh, you watch as he calls out to you. With a nod, you signal to the officer to let Josh through.

As Josh approaches, he quickly embraces you. “Y/n are you okay? I came as soon as I heard, do you need a place to say? You can stay with me.”

You push him away, standing up and looking him straight in the eye. Without words, your hands swing across his face, slapping him cleanly. The slap resonates through the air, and a shocked silence follows. Josh's hand instinctively moves to his cheek, his eyes wide with surprise.

Your lips pressed together,and you looked at Josh with a firm eye. “Josh…I’be done nothing but love you since we were kids. You were the center of my world. I thought I was gonna marry you one day. I can't believe you would let this happen.”

Josh's expression turns from shock to remorse, his voice filled with desperation. "Y/n, I swear, I had no idea. Dave... he threatened me, manipulated me.”

You put your hand up to stop him from talking. “Cut the bullshit Josh, Dave didn’t manipulate you into cheating on me. You can lie all you want, but one thing’s for certain. You don’t love me, you haven’t for a long time.”

The weight of your words hangs in the air, and a deep silence settles between you and Josh.

“So it’s over?” He asks, “just like that? All these years down the drain?”

While a part of you wants to believe Josh's words and find a way to forgive him, another part knows that the trust between you has been shattered.

“Exactly.”

On another love, another love

It had been two weeks since the incident. For the first week, you stayed with your mom taking a break from social media and anything too exciting.

During your week with your mom, you found solace in her comforting presence. She provided a safe and nurturing environment where you could heal and process the events that unfolded. Together, you shared meals, talked, and spent quality time reconnecting.

As the second week approached, you began to feel better. You knew it was time to face the world again, albeit in a different way. With the support of your mom and close friends you were able to reconnect with, you gradually reconnected with social media, updating your followers with a heartfelt message expressing gratitude for their support and explaining your need for some time off.

You also reached out to Mika, the manager who had approached you on that fateful day. Her professionalism and genuine interest in representing you had left a positive impression. After careful consideration and discussions with your support network, you decided to meet with her and explore the possibility of working together.

The meeting with Mika went well. She understood your need for boundaries and respect for your personal life. She shared her vision for your career, emphasizing the importance of authenticity and artistic growth.

You explained to her how you wanted to reintroduce yourself into the music industry, showing her your newly made song and how you wanted everything to work out. She loved the idea and got straight to work, promoting the hell out of the huge concert you were going to be having.

All my tears have been used up

Meanwhile you kept in contact with Izuku. He was really busy with hero work, but whenever he had the time you would grab lunch with him. Though it was hard to keep the concert you’d be having a secret, you made sure he didn't know the song that you’d be singing was about him. Nobody did.

“What’s this?” Izuku placed down his coffee mug to pick up the paper you slid over to him.

“I’m having a really big concert, and I want you to be there.” You said with a small smile, “it has a backstage pass and everything.”

Izuku's eyes widened with surprise as he read the paper you handed him. You continue, “you said you’ve never been to any of my concerts before..so…you should come to this one.”

"A concert? That's amazing!" he exclaimed, "I'd be honored to be there."

“I’d be honored to have you,” you chuckle. You couldn't help but feel a rush of joy hearing his response. Despite the challenges you had faced, having someone like Izuku by your side meant the world to you.

On another love, another love

You practiced with the band every day, making sure each of them knew their role. The band members had been supportive throughout the entire process, recognizing the significance of your comeback and the importance of the music you were about to share. They dedicated themselves to practicing and perfecting their parts, despite the different style and emotions involved in the song.

During rehearsals, you could feel the synergy building between you and the band. They were not only skilled musicians but also genuinely passionate about creating something meaningful.

As the concert day approached, the band's excitement grew alongside yours. You could see the determination in their eyes and the way they embraced the challenge of playing a different genre of music. They put in the extra effort to ensure that each instrument complemented your vocals, creating a harmonious blend that captured the emotions and essence of the song.

All my tears have been used up

The stadium was way bigger than you thought it would be. Mika had said that Hamada Nobu, the owner of the largest stadium in Japan, had offered the space for your musical comeback. Something about his daughter being a huge fan.

The sight of the vast stadium, with its countless empty seats stretching out before you, was both awe-inspiring and humbling. It was a stark reminder of the magnitude of the moment and the opportunity that lay ahead. Tomorrow, those seats would be filled with people eager to witness your song.

Standing in the center of the stage, you took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The anticipation was palpable, and the enormity of the occasion weighed on your shoulders.

You glanced around the stage, taking in the elaborate setup and the equipment that had been meticulously arranged. The lighting rigs, the speakers, the instruments—all were in place, waiting to come alive with music. It was a testament to the hard work and dedication that had gone into preparing for this moment.

As you looked out at the empty seats, you imagined the faces that would soon occupy them. Each seat represented a person, a fan, someone who had been touched by your music in some way. Their anticipation, their support, and their love would fill this stadium tomorrow, fueling your performance and igniting the atmosphere.

You closed your eyes for a moment, envisioning the energy that would radiate from the crowd. The shared experience of music, the connection between artist and audience, the power of emotion and expression—it all converged in this space. Tomorrow, you would step onto this stage and give your all, pouring your heart and soul into the music.

Sudden doubt enters your mind. Love songs had been your brand since the beginning, what if they didn’t like the change?

On another love, another love

As the sound of the crowd reached your ears from the dressing room, instead of igniting your usual sense of determination, it filled you with fear. The magnitude of the moment hit you all at once, and doubts began to resurface.

What if they didn't like the new direction of your music? What if they were disappointed by the change? The fear of being rejected by the very people who had supported you throughout your career weighed heavily on your mind.

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself of the countless hours of hard work, dedication, and soul-searching that had led you to this point. You had poured your heart and soul into this new music, and it was an authentic expression of who you had become as an artist.

With each passing moment, the fear began to transform into excitement. You reminded yourself that the crowd gathered outside was there because they believed in you and your talent.

You took one final look in the mirror, meeting your own eyes with a determined gaze. You had worked tirelessly for this moment, and now it was time to step onto that stage and give it your all.

All my tears have been used up, up

Oh, oh, oh

Your body glistened with sweat as you continued to sing, pouring your heart and soul into each note. The stage lights bathed you in their warm glow, amplifying the intensity of the moment. The energy of the crowd fueled your performance, their cheers and applause becoming a harmonious symphony that echoed through the stadium.

As the music swelled, you took a small moment during an instrumental break to catch your breath. The adrenaline coursing through your veins kept you going, but you knew the importance of pacing yourself. Using your quirk to provide a brief respite as your voice soared through the air.

The band continues to play as you quiet down, taking the moment to search around the front row for your green haired friend. This song was for him, and you wanted to see him as you sang it. But he was so where to be seen.

Disappointment settles within you but you return to the center of the stage.

Oh, need a love, now, my heart is think of

As your quirk sings and the music surrounds you, you feel a surge of emotions welling up inside you. A small tear escapes the corner of your eye, tracing a path down your cheek. It's a single tear, but it carries the weight of countless emotions that have been bottled up inside you. It's a tear of joy, of pain, of resilience, and of triumph.

In that moment, as the tear falls, you surrender yourself to the power of the music and the vulnerability it brings.

“I wanna sing a song that'd be just ours.”

“But I sang ‘em all to another heart”

As you stared at the hidden camera in front of you, you were acutely aware of the enormous projector behind you, magnifying every emotion etched on your face. The camera was capturing every tear, every tremor, every raw expression that danced across your features as you sang your heart out.

You could imagine the faces of the audience members, their eyes fixed on the projection, immersed in the journey of your performance. The close-up shots captured the intensity of your emotions, allowing the viewers to witness the vulnerability and passion that flowed through your voice and body.

“And I wanna cry, I wanna fall in love (fall in love)”

As the powerful notes of your voice filled the air, you used your quirk to double over the sound, creating a mesmerizing echo that reverberated through the stadium. It was a deliberate choice, a way to emphasize the weight of your words. With each word that escaped your lips, the echo carried it forward, enveloping the audience in a haunting and immersive experience.

“But all my tears have been used up”

You look to the side, a tuft of green hair catching your eye. It was Izuku, he had actually come. With each word you sing, your gaze remains fixed on Izuku. It's as if your performance becomes a personal conversation between the two of you, a way to convey the depth of your emotions and express the unspoken feelings that have lingered between you.

On another love, another love

“All my tears have been used up”

The energy in the stadium becomes electric, as the audience, caught up in the intensity of your performance. They clap, cheer, and scream, their excitement and appreciation reverberating throughout the stadium. The energy is palpable, a tangible force that sweeps through the air, connecting you with each and every person in the audience.

On another love, another love

“All my tears have been used up”

You wave Izuku to come over, smiling as he refuses to at first, but with a small push from Mika he begins the walk over. The crowd seems to go crazy at the sight of him.

The audience's excitement reaches new heights as they realize that Izuku, their beloved pro-hero, is joining you on stage. Cheers and applause fill the stadium, their admiration for him evident in their fervent response.

On another love, another love

“All my tears have been used up”

You meet Izuku halfway, a beaming smile on your face as you take his hands. The crowd erupts with even more enthusiasm, their cheers growing louder. It's a beautiful and heartwarming sight, witnessing the genuine affection and connection between you and Izuku.

“Oh, oh”

As the music dies down, you leap forward and kiss Izuku. Time seems to stand still in that moment as the world around you fades away. The audience, caught up in the intensity of your performance, erupts into cheers and applause once again, their excitement reaching new heights.

As you break the kiss, you find yourself lost in Izuku's eyes, the world around you fading into the background. It's a powerful and unforgettable moment, one that will forever be etched in your memory and in the hearts of those who witnessed it.

©LuvloveUni

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