#you can’t read it on the picture but I did all the tiny text you see on the back of dvds with real credits for people who work on the show

[korralone]

I finally finished the Warrior Nun box set I started several months ago

HUGE thank you to systemflaw (you can find them on Patreon here) for allowing me to use their amazing art for the box

#Warrior Nun #Ava Silva #Alba Baptista #VIVA LA PHYSICAL MEDIA #you can’t read it on the picture but I did all the tiny text you see on the back of dvds with real credits for people who work on the show #by far the most time consuming part lmao

[harryslittlefreakk]

can’t get you off my mind

(late night talking part 2)

Summary: your first night at LOT leads to a new depth to yours and harry’s… friendship

Warnings: smut, 18+!!!

A/n: i love this one. that’s all. this is all based off a very fun dream i had

hi guys!! thank you so much for all the love on this so far. if there’s anything you’d like to see, anything for me to add, anything at all you’d like in the upcoming parts then please let me know 🫶🏼xx

part one

my masterlist can be found here!

Harry spent the entire day thinking about you. He’d dropped you at your hotel that morning, slightly against his will. He woke before you, and couldn’t believe how adorable you looked sleeping. Your hair was a mess from tossing and turning in the night, your cheeks rosy from the morning heat and your rosebud lips puffing out with every breath.

He had places to be and you needed to shower, but once he saw the building you were staying in he decided you’d never go back there. It looked a state. The yellowing brickwork was falling apart, some windows were boarded up and the front door was wedged open for anyone to get in at any time. He made a mental note of your room number before he drove off.

You’d exchanged numbers as you left, but Harry hadn’t heard from you since then. Although he was busy with work at the venue, outfit fittings and some sneaky self-care, he was starting to panic that he wouldn’t speak to you again. So when he’d finally had enough of waiting by the phone like a teenager, he snapped a picture of himself with a sheet mask on. He sent it to you, then followed with a message.

harry: making myself pretty for you :)

He saw you were typing almost immediately, and his heart nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a picture from you flash up. You were wearing a tiny baby tee, and if he looked hard enough (which he absolutely did) he could make out the outline of your nipples under the shirt. You were surrounded by makeup, your hair already styled in perfect waves.

y/n: you’re pretty enough as you are. working hard on myself too 😋

Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he read and reread your message. Tapping his fingers on the side of his phone, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered how you’d just been dropped right under his nose. He always shied away from women who were fans of his work, knowing it can get more complicated that way. But something was different about you, there was a reason he’d bumped into you last night, he was sure of it.

—

With soundcheck finished, all Harry had to do now was get ready. He wondered if you were outside already, where you’d be inside, what you’d be wearing. You hadn’t caved and given him any details, so the possibilities had been running through his mind all day. He paced his dressing room, stretching out his strong arms. Every show was important, every show needed to go right. His first night at Wembley needed to be a good one. He just hoped he’d spot you, know you were there so he didn’t have to keep looking for you. Sighing, he decided to send you one final text before shutting his phone off and getting in the zone.

harry: meet me at my hotel after the show? won’t be there until later but can give your name to the front desk :) x

y/n: only if i’m not intruding !!! good luck tonight, break a leg 🦵 x

Meanwhile, you were in the queue outside the stadium with your best friend, Joanie. You were both wearing denim halter playsuits, her with a blue feather boa and yours white. You’d met each other at school where you bonded over One Direction, so you wished to be able to tell her about your night with Harry. But you knew whatever friendship was blossoming between you two could only continue in private, at least for now, and you knew she’d understand when you eventually told her. She was watching you as you stood there, jittering and anxiously checking your phone. “What’s up with you?,” she asked, her face scrunched up. “Oh. Nothi- I’m just anxious to get inside,” you lied through your teeth, hoping she wouldn’t ask any further. You knew the last thing on Harry’s mind right now would be texting you, yet you still waited for another message. You had your phone brightness turned all the way down so no one could see, and clicked on your text chain with Harry every few minutes. You couldn’t stop looking at his selfie, his glistening green eyes against the white of the mask, the relaxed look on his face. He was shirtless, the heads of his inked swallows just creeping into frame. You hadn’t even clocked he’d slept shirtless last night. The things you’d do if presented with that again ..

The queue began to move inside, and every wall you looked at showed you pictures of Harry’s face. It felt totally insane that the same man you’d joked around with like old friends was the one you’d be screaming to shortly. Part of you wanted to dial down your enjoyment, make him think you’re just a casual fan so he felt more comfortable around you- but you knew the second he came on stage that would be out the window.

You found a perfect spot a few rows back from the front of the walkway, knowing Joanie wanted to see ‘little freak’ and ‘matilda’ up close. It wasn’t long until you heard the opening chords of ‘daydreaming’ and watched Harry burst onto the stage. The atmosphere was electric, and he looked divine in his red and white patterned jumpsuit. You and Joanie were screaming and jumping like children at a school disco, in pure disbelief of the love and wholesome vibes around you.

When Harry appeared just in front of you, you felt a buzzing in your chest. You’d seen his eyes scanning the crowds, as if he was looking for someone, and you really hoped he was looking for you. As soon as you thought about it, his eyes landed upon yours. He sucked in a long breath, losing his train of thought mid-ramble. Harry thought you were beautiful last night but you looked almost heavenly tonight. Your playsuit hugged your curves perfectly, the half-up zipper showing an inviting amount of cleavage. He could see all the tattoos dotted up and down your arms, and the way you were grinning at your friend made his heart melt a little. You had an air of innocence about you, which he loved. Suddenly, your friend was looking at him awestruck and nudging you to see. You half-waved, sending him a subtle wink so as not to alert Joanie to anything weird. Harry managed to carry on with what he was saying, but his eyes barely left you the entire time he was there.

By the time he got around to ‘late night talking’, Harry literally couldn’t get you off his mind. In a sea full of people, it’s like there was a spotlight on you. The way you were dancing, your hair flying around you, he was mesmerised. The rest of the show continued in a blur, with Harry barely in control of his own actions. Going through the motions until he could see you later on. Grinding against the microphone, acting out the dirtier parts of every song. You riled him up in the perfect way.

“I need a little help from you all,” he spoke into the microphone, one hand scanning the crowd. “It’s a little hot today, and I think we need to cool down.” His face remained serious, though the crowd laughed after his antics all night. He was positively feral. Rolling his shoulders back, Harry grabbed the microphone as the first lines of ‘kiwi’ tumbled out his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to be back in front of you, already drenched from the splashes of water he’d requested. He was standing there with a devilish smirk plastered on his face, full water bottle in hand.

She sits beside me like a silhouette

His hand traced the curves of his own body, eyes locked onto yours once again. The words you were screaming were no more than tiny squeaks now, heart caught in your throat as you watched Harry gyrating in front of you.

Hard candy drippin' on me 'til my feet are wet

He raked a hand down the front of his body, pulling away just before he reached his goods. Something in his eyes said he wanted to touch himself right here, right now.

And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it

It's like I paid for it

He pointed towards you now, apparently totally incapable of anything except showing the world that he wanted to fuck you. Heat was swirling round your insides, this song did enough for you without Harry singing it for you.

I'm gonna pay for this

Just as the burning in your core got too much to bear, Harry unscrewed his water bottle and threw the contents right at you. You shrieked as the water hit you, drenching Joanie and the other girls around you. Harry returned your wink, the green of his eyes barely visible around his blown pupils, and moved on as if nothing happened.

“Oh my God!” Joanie screamed, jumping up and down at your side. “He was looking right at you!!”

You were so flustered, you couldn’t even find words to respond. You were almost nervous for the show to finish, hoping Harry still had this energy later.

—

Opening the door to your hotel room, you looked around with your jaw dropped. Everything was gone, all your makeup and clothes vanished from the piles around the room. All that was left was some gym shorts, a black t shirt and the pair of sneakers you wore last night. You turned on your heel, furious that someone had been fiddling with your stuff while you were away. It was only then that you saw the note pinned to the back of the door.

Y/N, this hotel sucks. Got you a room in mine. See you soon , H x

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. That cheeky little bastard didn’t even pre warn you that he’d cleared out your hotel room. You were desperate for a cold shower after the heat of the concert. Instead, you got changed quickly and scrubbed your makeup off, hoping that would make you feel a little fresher. Harry hadn’t even left you clean panties to change into.

—

Barging into his hotel room with the note still in your hand, you were half surprised to even see Harry standing there. You assumed he’d still be a while, but then, he didn’t have to battle through the crowds to leave the stadium. “There you are,” he grinned, so much more relaxed than you’d seen him a few hours ago. You flapped the note in the air, unable to even find words to question him. “Hey,” he started, stalking towards you slowly. “You can’t stay there alone, I don’t trust that place one bit. I put all your stuff in your room- it’s just one floor down from here.” You calmed down slightly at that, not even sure why you were so worked up to begin with. He was right, your hotel was the lowest of the low. “Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him. Harry was standing right in front of you now, wearing only a thin t shirt and the gym shorts from yesterday. He looked exhausted, but totally wired.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he whispered, barely audible above the hum of the music he had playing. “Are you kidding?!” You replied, eyes lighting up as a grin stretched across your face. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” you laughed, poking a finger into Harry’s muscular chest. He grabbed your hand when you didn’t move it away, looking into your eyes with parted lips. His own eyes were darkened, his pupils blown with a look you couldn’t quite place. They dragged up and down from your eyes to your mouth, and just being subject to his gaze lit a fire in your core. He was animalistic. Harry traced along your jaw with his free hand, tentatively as if waiting to be stopped. Only, you didn’t stop him. You weren’t sure you could speak, even if you wanted to.

He let go of your wrist and ran both of his hands through his damp hair, before wiping down his face with his right hand. Harry took a step closer, his big frame overshadowing you as you stepped back until your hips hit the kitchen counter. Please, please let this go as far as I want it to, you silently prayed, wishing Harry could read your mind right now. He was still looking down at you, his firm chest rising and falling quickly. You placed a gentle hand against his pec, checking his eyes for any sign as to his next move. Harry merely cocked his head in response, as if trying to figure you out too. “Harry, please,” you moaned softly, hoping this would be all the permission he needed to have his wicked way with you.

Almost instantly, his hands were under your thighs, scooping you up and placing you on the countertop. He tilted your chin up and looked over your face one more time before his lips smashed into yours, starting a battle of tongues, teeth and lips. You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulder, allowing his tongue further into your mouth. Harry’s teeth tugged at your lower lip as he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. You were panting, half from the lack of air but mostly from the heat in your belly. You mentally scolded him for not leaving you clean panties as they were double soaked now. You wrapped your ankles around his hips, pulling him closer into you until your cores connected. His thick shaft poked your inner thigh, leaving you moaning and crumbling in front of him. “You had me going crazy all night,” Harry moaned against your mouth, pushing his hands up and under your t-shirt. He kneaded your soft breasts as if they were warm dough, pinching your nipple as his lips moved down to your neck. His name tumbled out of your mouth over and over again, Harry, Harry, Harry, ringing around your head as he got to work on your body.

He stepped back, tilting your head up again to look him in the eyes as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your shorts and panties. You gave him a small nod, knowing he’d take that as your consent to do whatever he fancied with you. Harry whipped them off in one go, his cock twitching at the sight of you. Your lips were swollen and pink, pupils blown with lust. He could see the wetness glistening between your folds, looking beyond inviting. His fingers trailed up your thigh, circling your button before slipping between your folds. Your head fell to his shoulder as he pushed in and out of you, stroking at your sweet spot. Your walls were tightening around his knuckles already, so much pent up pleasure pushing you close to your climax already.

“So close already, sweet girl?” Harry drawled, peppering kisses down your throat. You could only moan in response, feeling a ball of heat deep in your core. He slipped another finger in, rubbing on your button with his thumb, desperate to coax you to your high. “Right there Harry, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you panted, screwing up your eyes as he bought you closer. “Look at me, Y/N, look in my eyes as you come,” Harry warned, his tone stern yet breathy. The minute you looked up at him, your orgasm flooded over you. Your thighs were shaking as you called out his name through pants, a hand gripping the back of his thick curls.

He kept his fingers moving inside you, slower now as you came down from your high, before rubbing a hand along your waist. “You needed that, huh? Did so good for me baby,” he spoke softly, pressing kisses into your jawline. “I’m gonna take you to the bed now, okay?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face. You simply nodded, unable to speak after such a fast and heavy orgasm.

Harry slipped off his shirt before sliding an arm under you and gripping you tight, carrying you over to the giant bed. He laid you down gently in the centre of the bed, kicking off his shorts and boxers. Your eyes were drawn to his groin as he gave himself a quick stroke, his erection bouncing up to smack the centre of his laurels. He was big. Bigger than he felt pressed against you, maybe bigger than you’d ever seen. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at you with his lips rolled into his mouth. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m clean, Harry. And I’m on birth control,” you offered. Harry grinned. He wouldn’t normally go raw, he knew the risks all too well. But man, did he want to. He could already feel the way your walls would stretch around him, the sheer pleasure of splitting you in two with no barrier in the way. It was risky, but he’d already taken enough risks with you. One more wouldn’t hurt.

He climbed on top of you, resting one hand to the left of your shoulder. Guiding his cock to your folds, he moaned at the slightest touch. You’d had him hard for so long now, Harry knew he wouldn’t last long when he finally got inside you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips as he pushed his head inside of you. He took the first few inches slow, reeling from how tight you were around him. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay pet?” He looked deep into your eyes as you nodded, throwing an arm around his neck. “More, please Harry,” you whimpered, using one foot to nudge the back of his thigh. “You wanna take it all, princess? Gonna get fucked so good by daddy’s cock?”

You moaned louder at his words, pure filth tumbling out of his dirty, dirty mouth. Harry bottomed out inside you, throwing his head back in relief. He had every intention of starting off slow and careful, but after pulling out, his first thrust was already hard and sloppy. He needed you too badly to waste time warming you up. “You feel so good baby, never had someone so tight around me.” He rocked into you quickly, his free hand gripping onto yours. You had no idea sex could ever feel as good as it did right now. His cock was filling every inch of you, forcing satisfaction into places you’d never felt before. “Harry, fuck-“ you whined, “I’m close.”

“Come for me, I want you to come baby.” His groin was rubbing against your clit, your pleasure threatening to spill out of you again. You looked up at him, just as he’d requested before, and stretched your neck to press sloppy kisses along his collarbone. Your body started to tense up again, you could feel your walls clenching around his shaft. You writhed under him, this orgasm more intense than you’d ever had. “Fuck baby, fuck. Where do you want me to come?” He stuttered, throwing everything left in his body into thrusting in and out of you as you came down from your high. “Inside me, please, fuck Harry.” You panted, clawing into the back of his neck. He wasted no time in painting your walls with his come, his thrusts becoming sloppy and half-arsed as he cried out your name.

—

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I wasn’t expecting it or anything,” you spoke softly, moving your head to look up at Harry. He only wrapped his arm around you tighter, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. “I know. I wanted to.” He replied, pulling the duvet on top of you both with his free hand. “Seemed like you wanted it too,” he smirked, nestling his chin into your hair. You slapped his chest playfully, eyes heavy after your long night. You both fell asleep like that, tangled up in each other, wearing nothing but a pair of pants each.

part three

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry x fan #harry fic #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #Harry styles x fan #harry smut #harry styles #harry styles smut

[sandfordsmostwanted]

No I don’t care about the new Velma series, but all these Scooby Doo posts have highlighted a deficiency in every Scooby Doo prequel idea. Yes, I’ve seen some amazing ideas for BFF Daphne and Shaggy content...  ... but none for the untapped character goldmine of Freddie and Velma. 

Like just picture it. The series is set in a American private school, where Velma is a POC scholarship kid, always looking to prove herself. She’s bullied relentlessly, but keeps her head down, because she’s getting into the Ivy League, damn it, and there’s no way these assholes are stopping her. She’s a whizz at anything to do with science and math and history and geography, but arts are a bit of a weakness, and she needs one more English credit to max out her resume. Her teacher offers her the opportunity to tutor another student to get the credit. The catch is it’s Fred Jones, the Dean’s son, and no-one can possibly find out.  Velma’s initially pissed at having to spend so much time with this entitled brat. On the surface Fred Jones is everything you’d imagine him to be - a jock, a bro, loved by the ladies and part of the group that have always made Velma’s life hell. She dreads having to tutor him, until he turns up, and he’s genuinely appreciative and sweet. She doesn’t trust him; she’s been burned too many times before. But through the sessions they get to know each other better. They bond over their mutual love of engineering - Fred doesn’t have the technological vocabulary that Velma does, but he’s got an instinctive eye for when a mechanism would fail - and they both realise the other had more depths than they expected. Velma notices the bullies leave her alone now, and though she can’t thank Fred publicly, they share a few subtle smiles in the hallway.  And then the plot of the series happens - a girl gets kidnapped from their school, and Velma’s on the case. She cancels her tutoring with Fred to sneak into the school to investigate. They run into hypercapable badass Daphne Blake and her emotional support Shaggy. Velma’s had a crush on Daphne for as long as she can remember, but her nerves make her even more snarky than usual, and the two spend most of their time bickering. Velma, Daphne and Shaggy also run into Fred in the school while they’re investigating; he left some sports stuff behind and came to retrieve it. Plot plot plot, meddling kids, mystery solved. Velma thinks everything’s going back to normal, but it doesn’t. Shaggy saved her a seat at lunch, and fills her tray with stuff he thinks she’ll enjoy (”And hey, you can sneak some of this in your pockets for when you’re at the library later!”) Daphne picks her first for her team in gym class. Fred tells his shitty mates to get fucked, and sits next to Velma in every class. And best of all, they start solving local mysteries together.  As they become better friends, they learn more and more about each other. Fred tells Velma if she struggles with making eye contact with people to look at the bridge of their nose or over their shoulder, because that looks like you’re looking them in the eye without actually doing it. Velma tells Fred that “the writing swimming when you read” is called dyslexia, and types up their study notes in a easy to read font. Fred is the first friend Velma ever brings back to her tiny apartment than she shares with her parents, and he’s very appreciative of their home despite living in a straight up mansion himself. Velma learns that that mansion life isn’t all its cracked up to be. His parents work away a lot, and when they’re around, they’re shitty and waspy and make Fred feel small. Fred always texts Velma late at night telling her to stop studying and get some sleep, Velma always texts Fred to tell him to stop working out and get a snack. They’re fucking good for each other.   It’s never romantic between them - never even close. Fred takes Velma’s coming out better than her parents did (”Why would I be upset that you like girls? Liking girls is great! I do it all the time!”) Velma tries her hardest not to be jealous when Fred and Daphne start dating - she never told him about her crush, and he’s not a mind reader. Who cares if she notices there’s chemistry between her and Daphne? She’s probably misreading the social cues, like usual. Besides, school’s nearly over now, and she’ll be off to college in a matter of weeks. Leaving it all behind her, just as she planned.  Their final mystery is the biggest yet, and the only time the gang actually fear for their lives. The stress of the mystery, and the building resentment of Velma’s “I’m out of here” energy leads to a huge argument between Fred and Velma, and the gang splits four ways to try and solve this thing. Each of them face their own trial. Shaggy has to face his fear instead of running away. Daphne has to be herself without overcompensation with gadgets or gimmicks. She realises in this process that Velma is the one she’s always loved, and the two share a sincere kiss. Fred has to trust himself, and succeed by himself without the safety net of his family, his wealth or Velma. And Velma has to admit she needs her friends, and that she loves them deeply. The mystery is solved, and just like that, they’re all set to go their separate ways, this time for real.  It’s the last day of finals. Velma hasn’t heard from Fred for almost a week now; her texts go unanswered. She knows he’s taking breaking up with Daphne harder than he’s letting on, though he’s happy Velma and Daphne are happy. She finishes her final paper and hands it in, thoughts of college in her mind as she stands on the school steps where it all began.  A horn honks behind her. She turns. There’s a massive eyesore of a van parked outside. Velma didn’t even know you could get that many shades of neon green and blue, and the little orange flowers are wonky and she knows they’ve been painted by hand and with love. Daphne waves at her from the passenger’s seat, and Shaggy from the back. Fred is leaning against the Mystery Machine, twirling his keys in his hand. He’d traded the sleek, smart car his dad bought him and that he’s been driving all show for this new ride, and he asks if Velma feels like solving a mystery or two before heading off to college.  Thus begins the adventures of Mystery Incorporated.  (End credits song is “Life is a Highway” by Rascall Flatts because you know that’s white boy Freddie Jones’ favourite driving song) 

#scooby doo #velma #velma dinkley #fred jones #freddie jones #daphne blake #shaggy rogers #norville rogers #scooby doo prequel #scooby doo meta #velma and daphne #hbo velma

[whyse7vn]

BLOOD SISTERS -

[ot7 x reader]

3D?????????

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

hobi: i heard vogue paid jungkook in cheese

namjoon: what?

jk: yes

namjoon: WHAT???

jimin: you did a shoot for vogue and got paid in cheese?????

yoongi: is that legal?

tae: are u a rat?

jin: i know a rat…

tae: YOU SHUT UR MOUTH

jk: i like cheese

y/n: put his vouge money in a savings account don’t worry

jimin: you robbed jungkook???

y/n: can you read??

it’s in a savings account

jimin: ur savings account?

y/n: no

jk: i got cheese

y/n: i gave him the cheese

namjoon: jungkook are you ok with her doing that?

jk: yes

i got cheese

y/n: SEE HES OK WITH IT STOP TRYING TO MAKE THE VILLAN HERE!

hobi: why did you do that tho?

y/n: are we forgetting that jungkook literally spent like 500k on a framed picture of the avengers

tae: that picture was cool asf who was the artist?

jk: google

tae: what?

jk: google

tae: oh

y/n: see

yoongi: yikes

jimin: was the cheese good?

jk: yes

i miss it

wish i could have more

🥺

y/n: i am not giving you more cheese

jin: didn’t he say he was lactose intolerant?

jk: i’m so upset rn

hobi: anyway ur vogue pictures were cool

jk: ok

can i have cheese

y/n: say thank you to hobi

jk: thank u to hobi

yoongi: is he high?

y/n: extremely

tae: WITHOUT ME?????

FAKE LOVE FAKE WORLD

jin: playing with my clit rn

y/n: what the actual fuck

namjoon: what possessed you to say that

jk: YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

JIN A GIRL???????????????

jin: was that not relatable to you y/n?

don’t you feel comfortable?

y/n: no wtf???

i’m extremely uncomfortable rn

jin: ok kill yourself then

read a weverse comment that said you probably feel so uncomfortable and can’t relate to anyone cuz ur surrounded by men all the time

tried to help you

that is the last nice thing i do for you

jimin: wow i never thought about that

let’s all see how far we can squirt guys come on for y/n ❤️

yoongi: can you stop

jk: i’m gonna win

y/n: u all make me want to throw up

tae: no cuz let’s have a period together #bloodsisters

namjoon: that is not how it works

hobi: i’m bleeding real bad rn >.<

jimin: super slay!!!

yoongi: super slay?

tae: slay my pussy ong

y/n: ENOUGH

tae: i love being a woman

jk: i want to seduce the king

jin: you can’t

i’m not into u at all

jk: ur no king of mine

tae: jungkook can you come over please i’m lonely

jimin: is this how you text your hoes?

tae: no only my bros 🫶🏻🥺

jk: i can’t tae :(

tae: why wtf

jk: too much cheese

tae: ?

jk: i can’t move

yoongi: pretty sure that’s the weed

jin: or maybe he’s shitting himself

cheese does that

not speaking from experience btw

jk: no

y/n: so how is everyone today?

jimin: don’t talk to me

tae: i’m still bleeding

jk: sometimes i imagine i’m a tiny little elf that works in the back of a coal mine just mining away but the coal mine is actually yoongi’s head an i’m inside it mining him new knowledge he can learn and after i mine the knowledge i give it to the other elves and they give it to the brain

hobi: are tiny and little not the same thing you did not need to use both those words

jk: soz

yoongi: why me

leave me alone

namjoon: i could be better tbh y/n

jimin: can we talk about how jungkooks new song

jk: do you like it?

namjoon: it’s not out yet

jk: do you like it?

namjoon: it is not out yet jungkook

jk: is it good?

jin: ur a slut

dare i say whore

jk: don’t dare

y/n: double dare

tae: i double dare you to come to my house

jk: :0

jin: like guys do you understand like jungook is a whore

A WHORE

yoongi: ok

jin: I CANT TAKE IT LIKE YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT IN 3D???

WHAT IN MOTION???

UR SICK UR NOT RIGHT AT ALL

STOP IT

STOP IT NOW

y/n: it’s okay

jin: ITS NOT

jk: who is 3d

tae: the jack harlow feature is crazy tho

yoongi: it’s really not

stop putting white men the world doesn’t care about anymore on your songs

hobi: spilled

jk: i’m not white

do people think i’m white

do they not care for me due to my whiteness

am i white?

??????????

oh my god i’m white

namjoon: you are not white

jk: namjoon said i’m not white

tae: namjoon is your white father

jk: OHMYGOD

jimin: what inspired 3d jungkook?

jk: y/n 🥰💜💗💗🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

y/n: ????????????????????

jimin: LMAOAOSOOOOOOOOOOO

hobi: oh wow

yoongi: what

namjoon: okay!

jin: IM GONNA KILL MYSELF UR SICK

tae: wow i didn’t know you got down like that kookie

#respect

yoongi: did you just say #respect

tae: yeah?

u wish you could right a sex song about my amazing beautiful girl like jungkook did

fucking mad loser bitch

hobi: *write

tae: wait

??

something is not right there

🤨

idk what it is

but i know it’s not right

hobi: maybe it’s because you used rigjt instead of write

tae: maybe

namjoon: ur so fucking stupid it hurts

tae: or maybe not

jk: what is going on

jin: THATS WHAT IM SAYING

YOUVE CHANGED JK YOUVE CHANGED AND I FEAR ITS FOR THE WORST

jk: i was talking about the aliens

idk what ur saying to me right now

y/n: WHY IS IT ABOUT ME??

hobi: clearly he kisses and tells

y/n: THERE IS NOTHING TO TELL

yoongi: clearly there is

wrote a whole song about it

jimin: at least you know you got good pussy!!

tae: me 2!

namjoon: can we not

tae: we can

im in my girl era

feminism in my boobs blood in my vagina

hobi: you take things too far..

tae: ok but it’s natural??

fucking men man i can’t do this y/n are you with me baby

y/n: stop talking for 5 minutes omg

tae: okay!

jk: do the aliens have drivers licenses

jimin: when’s the last time you fucked be honest

namjoon: why are you so invested in her sex life it’s real concerning

jimin: cuz it’s interesting????

like live a little joon jeez

y/n: WE HAVENT FUCKED IN LIKE

yoongi: like?

hobi: like

jin: you turned him into a whore i know it was you

jimin: see mr kim namjoon

interesting

namjoon: ur just starting unwanted issues

jimin: IN LIKE???

come on spit it out we don’t have all day

y/n: i don’t have to answer that

yoongi: shocker

y/n: excuse me??

jimin: YIKESSSSSSSSSSSS

hobi: i can’t look

tae: wait she’s fr fucking jungkook no joke this is fr?

thought this was a joke the whole time

are we all on the same page rn???

jk: i think if we think about it we are the aliens to the aliens so if you think about it do we have drivers licenses?

namjoon: it’s like we run in circles every single day

yoongi: nothing

just know why you’ve been ignoring me for the last month now lol

hobi: he added the lol

wow he’s pissed

jimin: INSANE

jin: YOUVE BEEN FUCKING JUNGKOOK THIS WHOLE MONTH UR NASTY LEAVE HIM ALONE LEAVE HIMMM

namjoon: i’m going to shoot you all

y/n: so it’s clearly not “nothing” yoongi

and in the gc are you fr?

yoongi: whatever

y/n: and i haven’t been ignoring you i’m talking you right now aren’t i?

yoongi: this is different

jimin: he’s basically saying you haven’t been fucking with him for a whole month cuz ur too busy with jungkook

hobi: maybe he’s having withdrawals

namjoon: i think she gets it

tae: can i fuck pls

y/n: ur being really childish rn yoongi

yoongi: that’s crazy cuz that’s how you like your men no?

hobi: WOWWWW

jimin: JUNGKOOK SHADE

jk: hiiiiii 🫶🏻🔥

y/n: and not that i need to tell you but i haven’t slept with ANYONE for like 2 months

i’ve been really busy filming and shit

fucking asshole

yoongi: oh

jin: wait no sex for 2 months that’s kinda insane icl 😭

jimin: YOONGI FUCKED UPPP TEAAA

hobi: pussywhipped 💀

tae: CAN I FUCK PLEASE

namjoon: enough sex talk please

before i grab a gun

tae: what type

ak?

glock?

shotgun???

yoongi: y/n

jk: why are we fighting??????

jin: don’t worry son

jk: papa 🥺

jin: no sorry i can’t actually claim you i’m over you being a whore i just remembered how fucking annoying you are yikes

am i the high one??

wow wtf was i stressing over

yoongi: y/n

jimin: me when i fuck up

hobi: yoongi the sad ant with the stick rn

jimin: HELPJSJDJDJXJ YOU RIGHT

“y/n….”

hobi: HEHEHEHEHE

*single tear rolls down cheek*

jimin: *screen fades to black*

hobi: LMAOOOOOO

jimin: STOPWOWOSOSSK

namjoon: guys

y/n: anyways

jimin: no because i stand with you feminist till i die

hobi: i’m such a feminist i enjoy looking at wonho as much as cows eat grass

and that’s like all the time

right?

jimin: right!!!!

jk: where is my papa

jin: ew

he’s so gross guys

y/n: don’t be mean he’s just under the influence!!

jin: of what? meth?

people high off weed are not freaks like him i’m telling you he does that hardcore shit just like joon

jk: papa joon

namjoon: stop

tae: i stabbed myself with a fork

pain is temporary

i needed it ❤️

namjoon: i need it

jin: ???

yoongi: i’m sorry

y/n: k

jimin: wow this is not awkward at all!

jk: i’m throwing up

jin: this is the 4th time this week

jk: papa

namjoon: how is he still alive

hobi: y/n feminist to feminist rn i say fuck yoongi and like come kiss me

yoongi: can you shut the fuck up

jk: i love you yoongi

yoongi: go away

jimin: can you guys not be boyfriends inlaw or something

yoongi: i’m going to punch you

jimin: ok i am going to stop talking now!

—

bonus:

#bts crack #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts fic #bts text #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #bts texts #rm x reader #suga x reader #v x reader #jhope x reader #hobi x reader #bts fake chats #bts incorrect texts

[janaispunk]

just think of the fun things we could do

a little extra from the dress series universe, takes place before the main series

paring: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: The plot brain isn’t braining, but the horny brain certainly is. I wrote this on my phone in one night and read it over once, don’t judge it too hard.

word count: ~1.2k

summary: “That wasn’t a good girl thing to do though. Sending me that fucking picture when you know damn well where I am right now.” “I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper and hear him scoff. “No, you’re not.”

warnings/tags: explicit smut (18+ only!), able-bodied reader, phone sex, praise kink, degradation kink, sir kink, masturbation (m & f), dirty talk, Dave being a menace as usual, dom/sub dynamics, idiots in love, a tiny bit of fluff

dividers by @/saradika <3

find my full masterlist here!

Desperate, are we?

Your phone lights up on the bedside table beside you, illuminating your dark bedroom. You grab for it quicker than you’d like to admit, your eyes squinting to adjust to the harsh glow of the display.

You had been trying to go to sleep, trying to accept that he wasn’t going to reply to the photo that you had sent him earlier. The photo of your own reflection in your bedroom mirror, wearing nothing but the lingerie that you had bought today while picturing him tearing it off your body.

You had debated if you could to send it to him, but had ultimately decided that Dave wasn’t someone who left his phone lying around and that it should be safe. He had never said that you weren’t allowed to text him, even though he was usually the one to initiate contact first.

When he didn’t reply, you reasoned with yourself that he was probably just busy, that it wasn’t a rejection. But you missed him, you had been missing him since he kissed you goodbye the day before and left your apartment to return to his real life. You wished that you didn’t, that you couldn’t still feel the whisper of his rough touch on your hips, where bruises were forming now, and the press of his lips against yours before he muttered “be good” and pulled your apartment door closed behind him.

But you do miss him and you can still feel him, which had you tossing and turning in your bed and checking your phone far too often, as if you’d somehow missed a notification.

Until now. You stare at the tiny letters on your screen, already biting your lip in nervous anticipation, when another text comes through.

Are you still up?

You hastily type back a Yes, not sure what to expect, when your phone starts ringing in your hand. “Hey,” you breathe, after quickly accepting the call.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

The sound of his deep voice, even through the phone’s speaker, fills you with want immediately.

“Did you touch yourself?”

He skips all pleasantries, his tone stern and in control, just how you know him. Just how you like him.

“No, I was- I was waiting for you.”

“Good girl,” he coos and the rumble of his voice goes straight to your pussy, already aching for him. “That wasn’t a good girl thing to do though. Sending me that fucking picture when you know damn well where I am right now.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper and hear him scoff.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” you admit and his responding chuckle makes you smile.

“So what did you want, huh? I fucked you all weekend and that insatiable pussy still can’t get enough?” The tone in his voice makes you shudder; this is more than you had hoped for when sending him that photo. Your fingertips slide under your sleep shirt on their own accord and you stay silent for a moment too long. Dave clicks his tongue impatiently.

“I expect an answer when I’m talking to you. It’s been one day and you’ve already forgotten all your manners, it seems like.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath. Two minutes of talking to him and you already feel like you’re melting.

“I wanted to show you. I-I bought this today, thinking about you. Just wanted you to see.”

Dave groans softly and you feel yourself clenching around nothing at the sound. “You did? Looking like a good little slut, and all just for me, isn’t that right doll?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe and he clicks his tongue again. “Say it.”

You simultaneously love and hate when he does this and you squirm the way you always do, but the will to please him wins out, the way it always does. Your quiet “I wanted to look like a slut for you,” makes him chuckle again and you feel the heat of embarrassment creep up your cheeks.

“I know you did. The next time I see you, you’re gonna wear that while I fuck that greedy pussy until you can’t walk right for days, how’s that sound? Maybe then you’ll be satisfied.” You rub your thighs together at his words, smearing the wetness between your legs across your skin and a whine slips from your throat.

“Please,” you whimper. You fingers are edging closer to where you’re dripping, desperate for just a small touch, “Sir, can I please…”

You can hear Dave’s grin through the speaker. “You want to play with yourself? Want to come?”

You hear the rustling of sheets on his side as you breathe out a “Yes, please sir”, desperate for his permission.

It’s silent for a moment like he’s contemplating. “Okay, fine. One finger, nice and slow, sweetheart.” You whine again, your pointer finger dipping down between your folds, swirling through the slick there and moving up to your clit to circle it slowly.

You’re already so worked up that the simple touch makes you gasp, which earns you another groan from Dave. “Always so fucking wet,” he growls, “so eager for everything I give you, so fucking easy… Fuck yourself with it, go on.”

You obediently thrust your finger inside of your slick heat, but it’s not enough, not when you’re used to the way he’s touching you. “I need more, please,” you plead with him, noting how wrecked you already sound.

“Two then, but that’s enough you greedy little thing. You come like this or not at all, are we clear?” he tells you sternly.

You try to replicate the way Dave fingers you, the rough touch of his thick fingers, the way he fills you up. You curl your fingers, but you can’t reach those spots so deep inside of you the way he does, another desperate whine escaping you.

You’re so close but can’t get all the way there, when his own breaths grow louder, mixed with deep groans, and the thought that he’s touching himself to the sounds that you’re making, has probably been doing that the entire time, is enough to finally bring you to the edge.

“Can I come, please sir?” you pant, your thumb rubbing over your clit in quick circles, imagining his more calloused fingertips.

He leaves you dangling for a few more seconds before he roughly commands, “Come for me. Right now.”

You let go, a loud moan filling your dark bedroom as your walls spasm around empty air, more wetness seeping out of you and your body shuddering as you come down from your high.

Judging from his panting breaths, he came right along with you and you’re hit with another wave of longing for him, to be close to him. You roll over onto your side, still holding your phone close to you as you both listen to each other’s breathing slowly evening out.

“I liked this,” you smile and he hums in agreement. You resist the sudden urge to tell him that you miss him, that you want to feel his arms around you and his breath on your neck as you fall asleep. “Good night, Dave,” you mutter instead.

“Good night, sweetheart,” his voice sounds through the speaker. You almost miss the way he quietly adds, “You look beautiful,” and you half assume that you’ve misheard him, but he ends the call before you can ask.

taglist/people who have expressed interest in this: @joelscurls @reddedmiller @iamasaddie @guelyury @theywhowriteandknowthings @amanitacowboy @corazondebeskar @maximoff-forevermore @palioom @vabeachazn @mellymbee @bbyanarchist @untamedheart81 @missladym1981 @no1-nosesitter (your tag isn’t working I’m sorry!)

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates 🫶🏻

if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging, it literally makes my day <3

series masterlist

#the dress series #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york smut #dave york fanfiction #the equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories

[simplyholl]

Bad Idea, Right?

Summary: Your ex boyfriend, Loki hits you up one late night to hook up. It’s a bad idea, right?

Based on the song “Bad Idea Right?” By Olivia Rodrigo

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18 + ONLY. Mentions of marijuana use.

W/C: 1.1K

See my Masterlist Here

“Tell me you’re not texting Loki right now.” Your best friend, Hannah rolls her eyes at you. “I just see him as a friend.” You inform her. It’s the biggest lie you could’ve told.

Loki was your most recent ex boyfriend. He was a cocky, narcissistic asshole. But that didn’t stop your heart from being shattered into a million tiny pieces when he broke up with you.

You spent countless hours crying to Hannah about him. You had only dated for a few months. But there was something about him that you were drawn to, that felt right.

The worst part was that he had someone to replace you the very next day. You found out when you ran into them at your favorite restaurant. You were angry with yourself because you introduced Loki to it in the first place.

Hannah took you out to cheer you up. To your surprise, Loki was there with a woman who looked like she belonged on the cover of Playboy. As soon as you saw them, you had to swallow the lump in your throat and fight back the tears threatening to fall. Hannah sent you to the car while she called the server over to bring your check.

Months had passed. You’ve spent more time apart than you did with him. You were mostly over him. You had hooked up with other guys since then. They all paled in comparison to Loki though. You knew if given the chance, you would go back to him.

Here it was late on a Saturday night. Loki was texting you out of the blue. Maybe it was the joint you smoked, but you thought he was flirting with you. You ignored his text, leaving him on read. Your phone starts vibrating in your lap, the stupid picture you had set for his contact of the two of you illuminating the screen.

You knew you should have blocked him. You excuse yourself, locking yourself in the bathroom to answer his call. “Loki, why are you calling me?” “It’s nice to hear from you too, darling.” You can practically hear the smirk he was wearing over the phone.

You shouldn’t have answered. He could talk you into anything. It wasn’t your fault. He was so charming. At least that’s what you tell yourself when you lie to Hannah, telling her you’re going home to sleep. You get in the car waiting for him to send you his new address.

When you arrive at the apartment building, you text him letting him know you’re there. He tells you to meet him on the second floor. Smug asshole, couldn’t even meet you outside. You walk down the long hallway when you finally see him.

He’s standing in his doorway smiling at you with a cocky grin that lets you know that he knew you would come. When his blue eyes meet yours, you know it was inevitable. He would pull you right back in. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a more attractive man in your whole existence.

He moves aside to let you in. He says something as you enter, but you don’t hear it. It’s like you can’t hear your thoughts when you’re with him. As soon as his door clicks shut, he corners you like he’s a predator who has just captured his prey.

He places his arms beside your head. Long, dark curls hang loosely down his back leaving little water droplets behind. He must have just showered. “I’ve missed this.” He says before crashing his lips into yours. His tongue runs along your bottom lip begging for entrance, but you break the kiss. “Seeing you tonight was a bad idea in the first place, so spare me. You don’t need to lie about how you missed me. We both know why I’m here.”

Your phone hadn’t stopped buzzing in your pocket since you left Hannah’s. She knew you were lying to her. She probably knew where you were too. She was more than likely calling to talk you out of it. You curse Loki and his devil dick for making you lie to your best friend.

Your clothes had been discarded in a trail leading to Loki’s bed. He sheds his shirt, laying back against the mattress. You climb on top of him. His lips press against yours once more. You run your hands through his hair, pressing your bare chest to his. You missed this, him. You moan into his mouth. You pull him closer, needing friction. You rub yourself against his leg. Your arousal leaks down your thighs and gathers in a wet spot on his pants. Loki’s lips detach from yours.

“Sit on my face.” He commands you. He doesn’t have to repeat himself. You place your thighs against his smooth cheeks, hovering. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down firmly against him. His tongue sweeps across your folds. You hear a stifled moan as he laps up your arousal.

His hands grasp you tighter. He taps your thigh to get your attention. You lift yourself off him momentarily as he warns you, “Hold onto the headboard.” You do as you’re told. Loki plunges his tongue inside you while his nose works your clit. You grip the headboard until your hands start to cramp. His firm, velvet tongue envelops you, licking messily down your center. Your legs start to shake as the heat in your stomach rises.

He draws the most sensitive part of you between his lips. His moans vibrate against you. You chase your high, wantonly riding his face. You buck your hips faster as he tastes you. With each swipe of his tongue, the headboard hits the wall a little harder. He curls the talented muscle against your clit as he suckles it. The pressure is so delicious, it sends you over the edge.

You cry out his name when his neighbor beats on the wall. “Knock it off, Laufeyson! We already talked about you keeping your company quiet!” You lay down beside him, raising your eyebrow in question. His lips curl up into a smile, “He’s incredibly jealous.”

Loki gets off the bed, beckoning you with his finger to follow. He lifts you, placing your back against the wall. He doesn’t take his pants off. He pushes them down a little freeing himself. His hard cock plunged inside you suddenly, causing you to gasp. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist.

Loki’s hands rest on the firm skin of your cheeks. With each thrust, he makes sure to knock your body against the wall. “Tell me, pet. Have I ruined all other men for you? Do you think of me when you’re in their bed?” His large hand comes between you, rubbing circles on your clit. You claw at his back, placing your head on his shoulder. “No one compares to you, Loki.” You answer honestly.

When he strokes your sweet spot, you bite down on the porcelain skin on his neck. He brings you down on his cock faster, hitting the wall harder each time. His neighbor starts shouting and banging on the other side. “Let’s give him something to complain about.” Loki whispers in your ear. His agile finger works swiftly between your joined bodies. He hits impossibly deeper, driving his hips against yours.

Loki’s thrusts slow down as you reach your peak together. You cry out, shouting Loki’s name. You don’t do it to piss off the neighbor. You can’t help it. When you finish, you hear “Finally!” from the other side. Loki places your feet back on the ground. You follow the trail you left your clothes in, putting them back on as you come across them.

You take your phone out of your pants checking the time. You have eight missed calls and thirteen texts from Hannah. You quickly text her back letting her know you were safe. Loki walks toward his bathroom, pushing his hair behind his ears. “See you next weekend?” He asks. You just nod as you walk out the door.

Tags

@fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @potter-puff007 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lokischambermaid @muddyorbsblr

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki smut #loki x yn #loki x reader smut #loki x yn smut #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki x you #loki tom hiddleston #loki marvel #loki au #mcu loki #loki fanfction #loki imagine #loki mcu #loki oneshot #loki reader insert #bad idea right

[judeswhore]

Situationship!jude that thinks he can fuck whoever he wants but you can’t. You’d be scrolling through your socials and you stumble over his private story and it’s a photo of him in bed with a cocky caption like “I’m free tonight” just him being in his whore era and it gets under your skin so bad because this isn’t the first time he’s done this and you guys are always at each others house and even ‘spend a few nights.’ And ur just like “is that my Jude..?” so you do the same thing; posting a picture of you in this really skimpy outfit with a caption like “my bed was finally warm last night” something kinda discreet because you can read that in two ways (but your bed was warm last night, just not because of Jude😒), and now he’s blowing up your phone with “wtf are you posting?”/“so you’re just being a whore now?😐” Obviously annoyed: you leave him on read but he just comes straight to your door at 11:30 at night and now you’re really pissed because you almost fell asleep and you have an appointment tomorrow morning. When you finally get out of bed and open the door you’re met with an angry Jude who pushes his way inside and shuts the door all “who the hell do you think you are?” And you’re just baffled at how he thinks he owns you but deep down you know you love when he shows you attention but sadly this is the only way you can get it because when you guys have a tiny fight the first thing he does is storm out, find another girl, and forget about you.

By the way your staring at him in a sad zoned out type of way it kind of breaks his heart to see you look so sad; asking if your okay. “Did you really just ask me that? I mean you just get to fuck any girl you want while I sit at home and wait for you to even see my text?!” Is all you can really scream at him before yelling at him to get out. The next morning you wake up to a bouquet of flowers at your door step, specifically your favorite and Jude’s blowing up your phone trying to apologize because you were always so quiet about what he did so he never really noticed or cared because you guys weren’t official.

waking up the next morning and ur still a complete wreck and u feel like an absolute mess bc you’ve been crying all night and it’s so clear to see and u hate jude for making u feel this way. checking ur phone to see so many missed calls and texts from him, all of them begging u to let him explain and make it up to u, asking u to meet him for breakfast or lunch bc he needs to make it right. but ur ignoring all of them, going as far as to leave ur phone at home bc u don’t wna deal w anything today but u have uni or work so ur having to leave and when u open ur front door there’s this massive bunch of ur favourite flowers sitting there with a note from jude saying that he’s sorry and again asking u to let him make it right. but it’s too little too late so u don’t even bother taking them inside u just leave them on the front and head out. then later in the day when u finally get home the flowers are still there and sitting right next to them is jude looking absolutely distraught and out of his mind. jumps up the second he sees u and comes rushing over, hands finding ur cheeks so he can inspect ur face and he’s all “ur okay? fuck, ur okay. do u know how worried i’ve been? u haven’t been answering anyone’s texts all day i thought something had happened to u!” and ur so confused bc ofc u haven’t been answering and why does he even care? he goes days without answering u. so ur shoving him off and telling him that but he’s shaking his head saying he gets u not answering him but when u called ur friends and ur mam they all said you’d been ignoring them too and now ur staring at him like he’s got two heads bc “u called my mam???” which has him glaring at u all “i thought u were hurt!” now ur both just sort of glaring at each other in the hallway and then ur telling him “well, u can clearly see i’m fine. u can go now” which has him answering “i’m not going anywhere until we talk this out. u have to let me fix it”

but ur so tired of the same routine bc he never changes and he’s broken ur heart one too many times and when u tell him this he’s huffing a little sigh and being like “u know u never told me how u felt, right? u never told me i wanted more than what we had. u told me it was fine, u said u didn’t care who i slept with. jesus, if you’d have just told me how u felt i wldnt have even looked at anyone else! i was waiting for u but u never gave me anything” which is like a slap to the face to u bc he never gave u the impression he wanted more. and u know deep down that the whole thing is a result of terrible communication between u but ur so stubborn and still so hurt that u don’t know how to actually forgive him despite what he’s saying so all u can do is tell him u just want space and it’d be best if he just left u alone for a while

#hey jude :)

[thursdayinspace]

WIP snippet? Working on a revival fic that was supposed to be a silly little pwp but is now developing plot, which I specifically told it not to do. I feel like sharing though, so here is a tiny scene from it.

Her phone rings at half an hour past midnight and she knows who it is without having to check. He hasn’t done this in years – first because they were living together, and then because they were separated.

“Hi,” she says sleepily.

“I think I found something,” he says. No “Did I wake you?” Not that she expected one.

“Don’t tell me you’re at the office.”

“I took some stuff home. Listen,” he says. “I went over the old reports again, and -”

“Mulder, it’s after midnight, go to sleep.”

“But this is -”

“Sleep.”

“Scully, you’re really not going to believe this. It’s -”

She sighs. “It really can’t wait until morning?”

“This might be the breakthrough we’ve been looking for,” he says, and starts reading to her from the old report, and she listens for a minute before interrupting him.

“I wouldn’t be admitting it if I weren’t so tired, but I missed this.”

He is quiet for a moment on the other end of the line. “I missed this too.”

She sits up in bed and puts him on speaker. “Okay. Go on. Fill me in on all the details.”

“Maybe I should come over and show you. There are photos.”

“Well, take pictures of them and text me.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, sighs deeply before he responds. “I hate modern phones.”

She is glad he can’t see the smile and the blush on her face. “Okay, Mulder. Come over, then.”

“I’ll just have to put on pants,” he says, and she doesn’t tell him he doesn’t have to. He sounds as excited as she feels.

Some things change, some stay the same. Sometimes it’s hard to tell which are which. His ability to talk her into anything has never changed and she hopes it never will.

It occurs to her that it’s been a long time since he has been over at her place – she always goes over to the house. Oh, well. Even if it feels a little off, at least she will get to see him. She just has to suppress the urge to put away anything potentially embarrassing and slip into something a little nicer than pajamas.

She laughs quietly at herself for her schoolgirl crush on the man she has loved for almost twenty-five years. She can’t help it. Nothing has ever been entirely normal with him, whatever normal even means.

#txf #the x files #msr #mulder and scully #wip #this is probably going to take a while to be finished #my tinkerbell brain wants approval haha

[autisticlancemcclain]

The music gets more intense — heavier bass, faster drums, and the shrill screech of an alien instrument he can’t name.

Lance smirks. Oh, hell yeah. He is going to crush this level.

Heh. ‘Crush’. Because this dinky game is an alien version of candy crush, basically.

Lance takes a deep breath, narrowing his eyes and squaring his shoulders. He sweeps critical eyes over the shining little animated pictures of alien plants, carefully assessing which ones are all lined up, ready to make his final winning move and —

The game freezes.

“No!”

A loading symbol turns for a couple seconds, and then a green pop-up covers half the screen — preventing Lance from playing the game, but not from seeing the timer in the corner of his phone tick down to zero.

He lost.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Now, losing a game to a pop-up is annoying. Be it for an operating system update, a text, whatever — all frustrating.

But this particular pop-up?

Oh, this popup is a thousand times worse.

It’s bright green (like, in-your-face, kelly green), with dorky black typewriter font, and a very familiar, bespectacled icon siting proudly to the left.

Pidge.

Lance grabs the pillow next to his head, shoving it in his face and screaming as loudly and for as long as he can. Of course it’s one of Pidge’s dumbass pop-ups, and of course it came up in the middle of his game. Because Pidge has an uncanny ability to know when she can be as annoying as possible, at any given time.

After screaming himself hoarse, Lance whips the pillow at the wall, sighing. He’s already lost, and it’s not like he can out-hack Pidge. The only way to get the damn pop-up to go away is to fucking interact with it. Ugh. He glances back to his screen, reading the stupidly persistent thing.

Your phone just got hacked, loser. LOL.

Lance scowls. God, she is so fucking annoying. He angrily presses the ‘okay’ button at the bottom, because it’s the one and only option. It clicks to a new popup.

However, I have just one question for you…

Lance hits ‘okay’ again, trying to get this shit over with. He wants to go back to his game, so he can finally beat the level. (It’s humiliating, but Lance is kind of addicted to candy crush-type games. There’s something about the deep, gravelly voice that plays when a level is cleared successfully, praising you for a game well played…well. There’s no action in space, okay? Lance is deprived. If a sexy disembodied voice telling him he’s doing a good job is the only action he’s going to get, then he’s damn well going to take it.)

(In fact, when he first was blasted into space, after the whole Sendak debacle, he was bored as hell in the stupid MedBay cots for a checkup that he played the game for hours, just to hear the voice. Of course, his phone eventually died, and then he realized that even if he did bring his charger to space, there was nowhere on the stupid space castle to charge it. He now had, in place of a phone, an electronic brick, basically, and that meant no photos of his family, no texts to look back on, nothing. And he didn’t know when he’d see them again. He’d cried for hours. Thank God for Altean mind-meld helmets that doubled as memory projectors, or Lance would have cried himself into space sans helmet.)

(But, anyway. Back to Pidge’s annoyance.)

Just one, teeny-tiny, baby question… the stupid popup reads.

Lance presses ‘okay’ for what feels like the millionth time, wondering what the hell Pidge needs so badly that she’s being a shit about it.

…Can you please bring me a sandwich?

Oh, Lance is going to kill her.

He’s going to kill her dead.

With a fury he didn’t know he was capable of, Lance slams the ‘no’ option as fast as he can, and continues to slam it when it just leads him to more pop-ups that ask the same question.

“For fuck’s sake, Pidge!” he shouts, after several minutes of unsuccessful refusal.

Ugh! Little sisters are so fucking annoying. Lance hates not being the youngest anymore. How dare the universe punish him for being an annoying younger sibling for so many years.

Gritting his teeth, he finally concedes, clicking the ‘yes’ button and scowling as a stupid happy face pops up. He stomps over to the kitchen — he knows damn well that if he doesn’t bring her a stupid fucking sandwich then she’ll keep sending pop-ups because she is a jerk — and assembles the most mediocre sandwich he could possibly make, taking care to pick the only plate in the kitchen that Pidge hates (it makes a horrible screeching noise if you accidentally scratch it with your nails) to place it on. Then he stomps over to Pidge’s workshop, kicking to door open and practically slamming the plate on her workbench.

She grins at him sunnily, placing her hands under her chin and tilting her head as if she is the picture of innocence.

How dare she. How dare she use the move that Lance uses when he’s being intentionally frustrating.

“Thank you,” she says sweetly.

Lance glares at her. “Texting is an option, you thick-shelled cockroach.”

She shrugs. “You would’ve ignored my text.”

“You could always — oh, I don’t know, make your own damn sandwich!”

“Not a chance, Lance-pants,” she says, turning back to her laptop. “Not a chance.”

Lance mimes strangling her when her back is turned, Homer-Simpson style. It makes him feel marginally better.

As he stomps back to his own room, he resolves to get her back. He may not be a tech genius, but —

He smirks.

He has four older siblings. Pidge only has one. Lance has been perfecting he art of driving siblings insane since he could walk — longer than she’s been alive.

He’ll get her back.

———

based on this post

#this is so dorky abshabajsbajab #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #pidge #pidge holt #lance & pidge #team as family #youngest brother lance #youngest sibling pidge #teasing #fluff and humour #my writing #fic fragment #longpost

[sakuraaachan]

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

Wanna submit a request? Click here

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 &lt;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’

‘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

#izuku mydoria #izuku x reader #izuku x you #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya x reader #mha #bnha deku #anime #deku #deku x reader #izuku x y/n #izuku midoria x reader #izuku fluff #bnha izuku #ao3 izuku #izuku #deku x y/n #izuku midoriya #my hero academia #singer #midoriya x reader #midoriya x you #midoriya x y/n #mha midoriya #bnha midoriya #Youtube #izuku midoryia x you #mha izuku #another love

[shuacore]

[ 23:38 ] i don’t know you at all 

did you see what your ex posted?

it had been such a long time since you saw him. thought about him, even. all it took was one simple question from your roommate during lunch.  

you had broken up with jeonghan years ago, when you were both still young and foolish.

no… you shake your head as your stomach roils uncomfortably. suddenly you can’t eat. you set your drink back on the table, staring blankly as your friend hands you her phone. you want to appear nonchalant about it. it had been years since you were together, anyway, but at this moment you didn’t even want to see what had made her think of you. 

reluctantly, you turn your gaze to the illuminated screen, eyes falling on a picture of a man next to a grinning woman. she holds her hand out to the camera, a rock the size of your thumb glittering on her ring finger. jeonghan kisses her temple, looking utterly blissful. his hair is lighter, you note. 

she said yes!!!!!!!! can’t wait to find forever with you, the caption reads. 

your heart sinks. 

ignoring the tight squeeze of your throat, hoping your face reads as happy for him and not i’m still hurting, you smile. 

“cute,” you mumble, handing the phone back to your friend. she makes some offhanded comment about him to you, but you’re already not paying attention. 

you don’t sleep that night. you toss and you turn, head flooding with old memories, remembering old stories buried under new ones, feeling the pain much staler than it was, but the ache in your gut is dull and all-encompassing instead.

i don’t know your phone number. 

after an hour of fruitless attempts at falling asleep, you let out a huff of frustration, sitting up to turn on your phone instead. 

part of you wants to reach out to congratulate him. part of you wants to run off the grid and cry until you die. would it be weird? your thumb hovers over the tiny airplane icon in the corner of the screen. 

what would you even say? 

hey congratulations on your engagement! i’m sorry it didn’t work out with us and i’m sorry i’m still thinking about you. i’m sorry that i’m not over it. i hope you’re happier with her and she gives you everything i couldn’t.

you realize you wouldn’t even be able to text him outside of Instagram. you blocked him over iMessage long ago. 

you let out another angry sigh and toss your phone onto the other side of the bed. 

i don’t know your favorite way to sleep. 

your bed seems emptier these days. 

you wonder if jeonghan still takes up three-quarters of the bed, his limbs spread out at all angles, his mouth agape as he slumbers heavily. you wonder if he still reaches out to touch his fiancée while they sleep, a reminder that she exists to him, and if his hands are still as warm as they were on your skin. 

does he still wake up smiling? and does he still kiss her like that—fiery and warm, in a way that leaves you breathless and dizzy? you can’t forget how he looked at you the mornings after you’d stay over, so tender and loving that you were worried you’d eventually absorb all the love he had to offer and leave him out to dry. 

you can’t forget the look on his face. you remember when it started to fade. 

you wonder if jeonghan says the same things to her when they make love. is she his angel, too? 

the bedroom has never felt lonelier.

feels like we’ve been through war together. feels like you’ve been right here forever. 

you remember the first time you thought you were pregnant. you and jeonghan were always so careful, but sometimes there was a slip—a lapse in judgment. you had told your parents, fearfully, and they had threatened to throw you out if you were positive. you had never been looked at with such contempt before.

you had run to jeonghan’s place, cheeks ruddy and slick with tears, snot dripping down your nose as you bang on the door.

and jeonghan had gathered you in his arms, kneeling with you as you crumple to the ground in distress. he held you until you stopped crying, until it felt like you could breathe again. 

he says it’s ok. you can always stay with me. i won’t let anything bad happen to you. it’s ok. we’ll figure this out together.

it’s ok.

it’s ok.

you’re ok. 

you wonder if he ever regrets saying those words to you. 

i know more about your friends than i know about you. 

“don’t forget about seokmin’s birthday on sunday!” you call from the kitchen. the coffee machine burbles and spits as the warm aroma fills the air. jeonghan makes a noncommittal noise from his room, a sign that he heard you. 

you were always reminding jeonghan about the little things. 

don’t buy that, you know jihoon is allergic. 

you can’t go out with seokmin, you said you would help me clean the house for when they visit this weekend. 

just tell joshua he probably left his phone in his jacket pocket. 

remember to wish mingyu and his partner a happy anniversary—yes, it’s on thursday—yes, i put the card on your desk.

you remember the way joshua and seokmin used to joke around with you, saying they had never seen jeonghan so in love. they used to banter back and forth with him, pressing him for details about you until his ears would go red and he’d mumble something about having to go to the bathroom. 

then they’d roar with laughter and turn back to you, pressing you for details about jeonghan. you’d always smile secretively until they’d whine about how you were no fun. 

hey, you’d never kiss and tell.

but i don’t even know you at all. 

after all these years, it shouldn’t matter. you stare at the photo, at the smile that blazes across his face. maybe it isn’t the same smile you remember. 

you tap the message icon. 

hey congrats! hope you find everything you’re looking for. xx

sent. 

there’s a strange weightlessness in your shoulders, like the remnants of something heavy still sit there, but it’s only the ghost of your pain. 

maybe jeonghan was only ever meant to be your “what could have been.” 

—

ot13 | masterlist

#shuacore thoughts #kpop #kpop imagines #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #svt fanfic #svt angst #svt imagines #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan angst

[yeosatinyngz]

【 Eight | Previous | Masterlist | Next 】

➼A/N: Um hey y’all… I’m terribly sorry for how long it took me to get this chapter out. I'll be honest that this chapter is crappy though but I felt so bad about the long hiatus on updates so I tried my best to get this chapter out asap. Hope you still enjoy reading it <3

Entering the address you received over text from Rindou, you set out on your first day as a babysitter. While making your way to Rindou’s, your thoughts went back to yesterday night where he filled you in on Kiyoko’s allergies, emergency contacts, etc. I really hope I don’t forget something important. 

As you approach the Haitani’s residence you still can’t help but admire it. You let out a deep sigh and pressed on the intercom next to the gates. “Good morning, it’s me-” You were interrupted by a booming voice that you knew all too well. “GOOD MORNING Y/N SANNNN, I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU EVER SINCE I WOKE UP!!!” It’s seven in the morning😭 It’s too early for this boisterous behavior but then again you can’t really blame the kid. 

You were soon let in and you walked up to the front door that was immediately yanked open by the tiny girl who impatiently awaited your arrival. She quickly grabbed you by your hand and dragged you in. As you walked in you were met with the two brothers who greeted you. You greeted them back and it wasn’t long before they both left for work leaving you alone with the way too energetic little girl. 

You spent the whole day doing whatever she wanted. She wanted you to play with her dolls, you did and even gave the dolls voices which she really enjoyed. She wanted to play restaurant, you were fully committed to acting as the customer as she whipped up the toy food to serve to you. In the middle of giving you your toy sandwich her stomach growled making you both laugh. “I guess that means lunch time huh?” She nods asking you to make her a real sandwich. 

After you both ate lunch she forced you to watch Barbie movies with her which you honestly didn’t mind. After the Barbie marathon she wanted to play dress up. She put on a pink dress and whipped out her kid makeup set making a mess on her face. Then she experimented with the makeup on you next and let’s just say it was not your best look. You were about to clean up your face when she whined at you to not clean it up and you sighed in defeat. 

It was pretty late by this time so you decided to go ahead and make dinner. Just as you were done cooking you heard the front door open and two voices announcing that they were home. You told them that dinner was ready and they could get it themselves and you were about to flee away from the kitchen before Ran turned you around. He gasped upon seeing your face. “What in the world happened to your face?” You point at Kiyoko who was next to you, “Her.” 

Ran covered his mouth as he was holding back his laugh but it didn’t last long before he bursted out in laughter. He quickly took out his phone and started snapping pictures of you, “I’m never gonna let you live this down.” You marched up towards him and wrapped him into a headlock, “Delete those pictures right now or today will be your last day on earth.” Kiyoko was observing the scene from the side and Rindou covered her eyes and ears, quickly taking her to her room. He rolled his eyes at both of your antics. What did I sign up for? He wondered to himself.

➼Taglist: @wakasagurl @moodyclouds89 @gulfkfl @thisbicc @watermaylon-writes @rinrinfoxy @haitani-bruv @royal-shinigami @luno-614 @xrosexblossomx @severellamahottub @katsukismelons @haitani-22 @night-shadowblood-writes2 @ilysmbaji @shuujin @heartonthemoon @oikawascutie @simpfound @ayhashi @himeee @whore-for-eddie @rinizitos @jcrml @jxjoba @galactict3a

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokrev x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev x reader #bonten rindou #rindou haitani fluff #haitani rindou imagines #rindou haitani x reader #rindou scenarios #rindou x reader #rindou x you #rindou x y/n #yeosatinyngz

[howaboutcastiel]

I’ve been Angry and Sad

Summary: (6) Steven is grieving his mum, and finds himself back in Dr. Harrow’s office. FWMS Masterlist 

Word Count: 7.2k

Content: Medical talk, talk of being drugged (like in the show). Grief, medical terms. Derealization. Verbal abuse. Depersonalization a little. Use of ableist language. A little bit of allusion to SH and to canon-typical violence. It’s also sweet in spite of that. Is it stupid? Yes. Is it angsty? Yes. Would I eat this shit up if someone else wrote it? Also yes. Enjoy. 

“Steven? Are you listening to me?”

The voice was muffled as it made its way through Steven’s head. It had happened again—he had found himself somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, with no recollection of how he arrived there. He thought that this wouldn’t happen anymore. He and Marc had sorted it all out, right? They passed the body to each other gracefully. There wasn’t supposed to be any more confusion. No more lost time, no more mystery destinations. By that metric, he should have known exactly where he was. 

So where the hell was he?

Steven tried retracing his steps. Surely he could remember if only he could think straight. What was the last thing he did? Who was the last person he spoke to? He thought back to the start of his day—he’d been sorting his library out…

“Where the bloody hell did I put that pamphlet?” He muttered aloud as he pulled another stack of books onto the floor to organize. Steven had finally promised to go through his collection and pack some things away. Or…at least put things back on the shelves where they belonged. 

Now, though, he was searching for the psychiatrists’ pamphlet that HR had given him the day he was fired from the museum. Marc refused to talk to a doctor—aggressively, violently refused—but Steven assured him that he would change his mind if only he’d look at the nice posh faces on the slip of paper. 

“I’m sure that I used it as a bookmark in one of these textbooks…” 

He dug through the half-read books on his desk, pulling every type of paper from sticky notes to unused Kleenex from the pages that he’d marked for later. No pamphlet. He kept going, dead set on proving to Marc that therapy wasn’t the tortuous ordeal he’d been convinced of. The last book in the stack was a history textbook on the ancient Mayans. He pressed his finger against the tiny bump in the pages, opening the text to the page where his placeholder was. 

It was a polaroid. Faded, worn. A picture of Steven—or probably Marc—at his bar mitzvah. His dad on his right, and…

His mother, on his left. Smile wider than ever. 

He didn’t expect the photo to have the effect on him that it did. It was just a photograph, wasn’t it? One that he’d seen a million times before. But it was different now. This was the first time he’d actually seen her since… well… 

Steven was gasping for air before he knew it. He hadn’t seen his mother in months. He would never see her again, either. His mother was gone. Dead. He would never hear her voice, never see her face again. He couldn’t call her when he got lost or when he was having a bad day at work. She would only live now in his memories, ones that he couldn’t even trust to be real. How many of his interactions with her were even real? 

“Steven?”

He didn’t remember anything after that. He should be in his flat, then, shouldn’t he? He should be staring at that polaroid. The voice was clearer this time and Steven tried to focus on it. The lights were too bright, the noise too far away. 

“I know this is hard, Steven,” He recognized that voice. That grating voice, “but it’s been so long since we’ve spoken to each other. You came to me asking for help, do you remember? I want to help you, but I can’t help anyone who won’t help themselves.”

Yes, he definitely recognized it.

“Dr. Harrow?”

Steven’s eyes focused for a moment. It stung, but the image was clear as day. White brick. Glass table. Arthur Harrow with a mustache and glasses. “That’s right, Steven. We have an appointment. Are you ready to talk to me?”

“I don’t… remember…” He blinked a few more times, trying to ground himself. Dr. Harrow wasn’t real. He knew he wasn’t. He was sure of it. So then, why was he also certain that he was sitting in front of him now? If he tried, Steven could reach out and touch him. Couldn’t he?

Did he even know what was real anymore?

Harrow continued as if he’d gotten an affirmation. “In our last session, you told me that Khonshu had finally stopped talking to you. Has he still been absent from your life since the last time we spoke? And what about the new character—what was her name…Taweret? You had some interesting things to say about her, particularly concerning her new relationship with Marc’s ex-wife.”

Not ex-wife, you donut. WIFE. 

“No…that’s not what I want—” Steven felt like his tongue was cotton. Had he been drugged? He felt the faint sting of a wound on his neck. Was he imagining that, too? Or had the nurses injected him with something? His limbs were heavier than lead. He must have been drugged. “I want to talk about—something—not that—”

“With all due respect, Steven, I think that it’s best that you let me guide our sessions—”

“—My mum.”

Dr. Harrow stopped speaking long enough to take in those two words. His eyebrows raised, but his expression was patronizing more than it was curious. Steven tried to swallow around his dry tongue. 

“I want to talk about my mum.”

“And what about her?” There was venom in his voice. Well-concealed, but there all the same underneath the veil of patience. Steven felt his blood run cold. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

What kind of doctor—?

Steven opened his mouth to speak. To yell, actually. Of course she was dead. That’s why he wanted to talk about her. But the moment he tried to make noise, Steven realized he was no longer in the office. He gasped for air, opening his eyes to find himself on the floor of his flat. 

“What the fuck?!” He blurted, bringing his hands to his chest to press against his heart. The cotton was gone from his mouth, as was the weight in his limbs. His face was wet with tears.

“You with me?” Marc chimed. Steven glanced around the room, making sure he was really there. He was there, right? It certainly felt real. But just a second ago, he was somewhere else. And that had felt real, too. 

Steven shook his head. “What just happened?”

“Dunno, buddy,” Marc hummed, “you tell me. You pulled that picture out of the book and had a…a panic attack or something. You gave me the body.”

“I did?” He rose shakily to his feet. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I guess it was just too much. That’s what we’re here for, right? To take over when things get too much.”

Steven furrowed his brow. He made his way back to his desk. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“What’re you doing?” Marc asked, watching from behind as Steven pulled his laptop from the drawer and turned it on. 

“I just,” Steven paused to type in his password. “I want to look something up.”

Marc didn’t even try to hide his concern. “Are you okay? Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

“I don’t really know,” he admitted. “And… I don’t really know. Do you remember Dr. Harrow’s office?”

“Wh—yeah. Did you go there? What happened?”

“Again, I don’t know.”

The computer took a few moments to boot up, both because the building’s wifi was shit and because the laptop was on its last leg anyway. It had been considered an out-of-date model even before the Blip. Both Marc and Steven could feel how their nerves were on-edge. Steven tapped his fingers anxiously on the desk.

“What are you looking up, bud?” Marc prodded. 

“I’m gonna find out what the hell’s wrong with us.”

“You—what?”

Steven was as flustered as Marc had ever seen him. “Marc, don’t pretend you’re not curious. Something is wrong with us. Starting—starting with the fact that there’s an ‘us’ in the first place! We’re sharing a body! Not to mention, five minutes ago I thought I was in an office with a sociopath dressed like Ned fucking Flanders—”

“Okay, buddy. Calm down.”

Steven wasn’t calm. “That’s not normal, Marc. We’re not normal.”

“I know. I know! I need you not to freak out, Steven.”

Steven took a deep breath as the computer finally loaded. He thought about the fact that none of this was new to Marc. It was only new to him. No wonder Marc was so calm about it. He tapped his fingers some more, using his other hand to pull up a search tab. 

He sighed. “What’s wrong with us, Marc?”

“You want a list?” He chuckled humorlessly. Steven’s breath evened. 

“Do you have one?” It hadn’t occurred to him that Marc would have a name for any of this. He didn’t seem like the type of man to seek a diagnosis. 

“Well, I don’t know. If I can remember… some of it, at least. Let’s see,” Steven was stunned as Marc took a moment to think about it. “I know that it’s not called multiple personalities anymore… that’s what dad called it, though…”

“Dad knew?”

Marc avoided the question. “I think it’s… dis-associative….something.”

Steven typed the word ‘dissociative’ in the search bar. The first phrase suggested was ‘Dissociative Identity Disorder,’ which Steven selected because it was the only option with the word disorder. And whatever the hell was wrong with them, Steven thought, certainly caused a lot of disorder. 

He spent the next hour reading every webpage he could find. Steven took note of the vocabulary—switch, alter, front, trigger, host, system—and sought everything from scientific journals to online forums with anecdotal stories. A lot of people were like him, it turned out. More than he ever could have anticipated. He kept searching and reading until his eyes were sore from staring at the screen for so long. Steven only paused his endeavor after coming across a webpage that addressed the reason he’d started looking in the first place—

Dissociative Identity Disorder: Internal Worlds.

“Many DID systems have an inner world where alters may manifest and interact with one another. These worlds can range in size and complexity, and may feature static characters that act as imaginary constructs rather than alters or fragments.”

“...huh.” Marc hadn’t been listening up until that point, but Steven’s excitement had brought him back toward the front. “So that bastard’s like an NPC in our head?” 

Steven wasn’t entirely satisfied. “That makes the most sense, don’t it? But why him? Why’s our inner world even a hospital?”

“I guess—maybe it was the easiest answer?”

Steven thought about it. The first time they had been to that office was while they were in the Duat. Marc had gone first, right after he’d been shot. It was either he dealt with the Duat—and the fact that he was dead—or come up with another answer. A more relieving answer. It was a relief to be crazy. Crazy was better than dead. 

Then he’d gone again when he saw Taweret. A talking hippo? Pretty overwhelming. Then again, when he’d been triggered—Steven knew what that word meant, now—by Steven yelling at him. It’ll be all your fault. Right back in Harrow’s office. Then Steven himself. It wasn’t too hard for him to imagine how he’d landed there, in hindsight. He’d even asked for it explicitly, after he’d heard the news that his mother was dead.

Let me out. Let me out! Let me out!

Yeah. Being crazy was better than being dead. But now, they were no longer dead. So maybe the inner world didn’t need to be crazy. 

“Do you think we can change it?” Steven asked.

“What?”

He backtracked. “The hospital. D’you suppose we can change it to something more nice? Something cozy.”

Marc shrugged. “Dunno. It’s not like I made it a hospital on purpose. I would have at least added some color.”

“Yeah, why was it so white?” Steven hummed. “Surely that’s not what they really look like.” 

Marc uttered an answer before he could think. “That’s what I remember them like.”

Oh. 

He didn’t mean to say that.

He wasn’t ready to talk about that. 

“We’ve been in a psych ward before?”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Yeah, listen buddy, I don’t really want to talk about that right now. Let’s go back to what you were talking about. You said we could change it, right? What would we change it to?”

“Now hold on a minute,” Steven jabbed. Marc rolled his eyes, cursing himself. “We’re meant to be opening up to each other, aren’t we? At least tell me when. When were we institutionalized, Marc?”

“Which time?”

Excuse me?

“Which time?” Steven scoffed. “There were multiple?”

“Okay! Don’t get defensive.” Marc drew a breath. “The first time, when we were twelve. That was for a few days, but nothing really happened. Then there was… we were fourteen. I think I was there for over a month.”

“A month?” Steven was astounded.

Marc winced. “Don’t ask, Steven. Just, please. Not right now.”

“Is that all?”

He shook his head. “There was another one, right before I ran away. Pretty sure we were seventeen. Then the Marines made me do a psych eval when they discharged me. They said that I should go to one then, but they couldn’t commit me or anything. I would have had to do that myself.”

Steven waited expectantly. There was shock and anger in the body. Marc cleared his throat.

“That’s all.”

“So three separate times, then? We spent all that time in a psychiatric ward?” His voice was resigned, disbelieving. 

“Yeah. Three times.”

Steven’s anger dissipated a bit. “Can’t believe I don’t remember that.”

He didn’t expect Marc to say anything, but he spoke up again with a hesitant voice. 

“You don’t want to remember.”

~~~~~~

Finding his way to Harrow’s office was much easier when he wasn’t looking. 

Now, though, Steven couldn’t shut off the outside world long enough to go back to that place. His goal was to change it, or at least, to see if he could. The internet had told him that some people were able to control their internal worlds. He wanted to try. Steven didn’t want his place of refuge to be an endless labyrinth of white brick hallways. 

He sprawled out on the couch, trying his best to empty his mind of any stray thoughts. He pictured the office as best he could—white brick, glass table. White brick, glass table. But he couldn’t conjure the imagery. 

“Why’s it so important to you anyway?” Marc questioned, earning a shush from Steven. “I’m just saying, it’s not like either of us plan on going back there.”

“And what good is that?” Steven countered, “We have to spend the rest of our lives inside our head, don’t we? I reckon we’ll spend a lot of time in there, considering how much shit we still have to sort through. I’d rather it be someplace nicer than a pediatric psych ward.”

Marc hummed. “So what are we changing it to?”

“Dunno yet. I’ll figure it out once I actually get there. Which I can’t do until you shut up.” 

“Rude.”

For another half-hour, Steven tried to retreat backwards. He tried everything he could think of, from playing white noise to crossing his legs and listening to a meditation guide. His mind wouldn’t stop racing and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus on the big, bright office. A gust of wind made an extra large creak run through the place. Steven opened his eyes, running his hands through his hair frustratedly. 

“Why’s it not working?” He groaned, mostly to himself. “The one time I actually want to go there, I can’t.”

“It’s not about what you want,” Marc quipped. Steven let out a dry laugh. 

“‘Course not. That’d be too easy.” He lowered his face into his hands, groaning again. 

Marc’s tone was serious, though. “Think about it. When you give me the body, where do you go?” 

“…nowhere, I guess.”

“Right. Because you don’t need to go anywhere. You don’t have a reason to go to Harrow’s office. You’re too comfortable to go there. You’ve only been there when—”

“When out here was too hard.”

“Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Steven wanted to argue with Marc, but they both knew that he was right. Going back to Dr. Harrow’s office probably wasn’t going to happen by meditation, or even by napping. He would have to go there to get away from something on the outside. At least, at first. He knew that he would never stumble upon the place now. Not without being sent back there first. 

“Shit,” he scoffed. 

“What?” Inquired Marc.

“I know how to get there, then.” Steven rose to his feet. His hands started to shake. “Fuck.”

“It’s a lost cause, buddy,” Marc interjected. “It’s not gonna work. The only way to go back there is—”

Oh. “—Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steven quipped. He started to rummage through the desk drawers. “Seems counterproductive, don’t it?”

Marc pushed for control of the body. “No. It’s not worth it. We’ll deal with the office later, alright? Let’s just take the win for today.”

“The win?” Steven scoffed. “What win? I don’t want the next time I have a panic attack to be made worse by the fact that the man who tried to kill us is holding us hostage inside our own mind.”

Marc was at the edge of taking control, held back by Steven’s stubbornness and nothing else. “That’s not exactly what’s happening—”

“Well I would bloody know that if I could just get back there again.” He continued rummaging, growing sloppy in urgency. 

“Steven, stop!”

He paused his movement, barely holding onto himself. The body was still in Steven’s control, but Marc had caught his attention. 

“What’s your plan here, buddy?” His voice was patronizing, but worried. “You’re gonna look at more pictures of mom until you can’t breathe anymore? Is that really how you want to spend the day? Don’t do this to yourself.”

He persisted. “I need to go back there.”

“It’s not that important.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Steven insisted. His voice was low. Angry. 

Marc didn’t like the tone. “Oh yeah? And what don’t I get about this?”

“You’ve been crazy your whole life,” Steven jabbed. It wasn’t how he meant it, and Marc knew that, but it was still cold. “You’ve had time to adjust. I haven’t. My whole life is a lie. I feel like I’m out of my mind.”

“You are!” Marc hissed. “Can you listen to yourself? You’re literally about to torture yourself so you can fight the voices in your head.”

Steven curled in slightly on himself. “Just the one voice.”

Marc laughed, shocked. “Just the one?—Steven! Come on, man. Don’t do this.”

“Yeah?” He pulled himself upright. Marc felt a twinge of something from Steven. Spite. Whatever had made him so adamant about this, he wasn’t changing his mind now. “What are you going to do to stop me?”

Marc pushed himself forward at full force, nearly reaching the front before stumbling back, out of breath and stamina. He used to be better at this. Steven wasn’t budging, though. That was clear. 

“Don’t be stupid, Steven.”

“Just shut up.” Marc had never heard that tone of voice in Steven. Not ever. Not with him, not with Layla, not with Donna or JP. Not on the Earth and not in the Duat. It was seething, decisive. He knew from the snap in Steven’s tone that there was no more arguing. Not without a screaming match to follow. He’d made up his mind, now. Marc could only watch from there, and be ready to pick up the pieces of whatever he did. 

Marc forced the bite from his own voice. “What’s your plan then?”

Steven shook his head. 

“There’s a scrapbook in here. Somewhere.”

“It won’t be enough,” Marc chimed. It was sincere. “I know the one you’re talking about. It won’t be enough for what you’re trying to do. Doesn’t even have that many pictures of her.”

Steven gritted his teeth. “What do you suggest, then?”

“Honestly? I don’t think it’s best that you take any of my ideas.” 

He shut the desk drawer with a shaky, resigned hand. It wasn’t enough that Steven couldn’t trust his reality, but now he felt like, in spite of the strides he had made, he had less control than ever over his life. He couldn’t sort through his thoughts long enough to figure out what was real and what wasn’t, and he couldn’t do much of anything without Marc peeking over his shoulder. He felt stuck. Powerless. 

“How bad do you want to do this today?” Marc asked after a few minutes of quiet. Steven perked up enough to think of an answer. 

“Bad enough.”

“There might be one thing,” he offered. Steven immediately nodded, prompting him to spill. “But you can’t say I didn’t warn you. There’s a reason that I hide this shit from you.”

“What is it?” He demanded. 

“Just—wait a second, bud. If we do this, you gotta listen to me. And you gotta understand.” Marc went rigid and Steven pushed harder. 

“Whatever! Just out with it.”

Marc sighed. “There’s a voicemail I think you should listen to. It’ll work, I’m sure. You wanna fucking torture yourself then go right ahead, but Steven…”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Steven!”

“What, Marc? I don’t need any more warnings. You know it’s not always your job to protect me. I’m a grown man.”

“I know. I was just gonna say,” Marc stuttered over the words, bashful suddenly. His hesitance gave Steven pause. “I can’t listen to it with you.”

Steven was silent. Marc urged him toward the tray beside the door where he kept his phone and keys. “Just tell me what you find when you get there, okay? And I know he’s not real, but… give Harrow hell when you see him.”

“…Marc?”

“Go on, Steven. It’s the oldest message in the inbox.”

Marc nudged him forward. Steven grabbed the flip-phone, booting it up as his alter sank down into nothingness. That’s what it was, Steven supposed. Nothingness. That’s where Marc must have gone.  Either that, or he’d be finding a bloodied up Harrow when he got to that office. 

He scrolled to the end of the voicemail box. 

Wendy - 11 years ago. Duration 2:54.

Steven swallowed hard, his thumb hovering over the button. He hadn’t heard her voice in…

He didn’t even know how long. 

His heart rate spiked before he even pressed play. He knew from what Marc had said that it wasn’t going to be the familiar voice he knew. Not the one he remembered. Not the dripping with honey, unconditionally-loving, soft nurturing voice. Steven wasn’t sure that her voice ever really sounded like that, anyway. 

He gritted his teeth. 

Click. 

“I knew this would happen.”

He could tell from the first second of sound that Wendy’s voice was coated in liquor. Her speech was slurred, tone self-righteous and wandering. “They sent your shit in the mail, Marc. The Marines. It says you got discharged. Hah. Took them long enough, didn’t it? I thought they’d have thrown you out—hic—years ago.”

Steven hadn’t managed to breathe since the audio started. The lack of air burned in his throat, but he knew that he’d choke on his breath if he tried to take air in now. His vision was glassy and a stabbing pain stuck between his ribs. Wendy paused for what Steven assumed was long enough to take another swig. 

“What’d you do this time, kid? They find you talking to yourself in the barracks?” There was humor in her voice. It made Steven feel sick. “Or are you still just that bad at following directions? They finally cut you loose when they realized you’re dumb as a rock?”

Steven couldn’t believe his ears. He had known, in theory, that she was like this, but… hearing it for himself was something else entirely. 

“Anyway, son, this is the address that they have for you. Come and get your shit. Or text your dad where you are and he’ll send it to you. Whatever. I’m tired of staring at this box of junk on my counter. If you don’t do something with it, I’m throwing it out.”

She paused again, and Steven could hear the alcohol jostling around in the bottle as she brought it to her lips. 

“Let me know when you finally find something you’re good at. And don’t call your father this time if you need someone to bail you out. God knows you’re getting yourself into some kind of bullshit. Always are. Our money’s tight enough as it is and, frankly, I’m tired of saving your ass. You keep bringin’ trouble everywhere you go. It’s embarrassing for both of us. What kind of Rabbi’s son—”

He couldn’t listen anymore. Steven couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How was this what Wendy Spector was like? How had he never heard this version of her before? It wasn’t enough that his image of his mother was wrong. It was downright delusional. How could this woman be the same person he’d called every morning? The same person he confided in when no one was there for him? 

Hot tears streamed down his face and his throat constricted around short gasps of air. How could he have gone his whole life without seeing this? Why couldn’t he see the holes in the image of her? Was everything that he knew about her just a lie? 

Is this what it was always like for Marc?

Steven’s breathing picked up until it was short and stunted. Quick, shallow breaths increased in speed until he wasn’t sure he was breathing at all. Steven wrapped his arms around himself and leaned backward against the door. He sunk down, slamming the phone shut and chucking it somewhere to his side. 

Now she’s gone. She’s dead, and he can’t even mourn her the right way because he doesn’t know what he can mourn. Should he even be mourning at all? She wasn’t ever real, was she? Not the version of her that he knew. The real her didn’t deserve his anguish. 

What was he meant to do?

“Are you ready to talk some more, Steven?” He snapped his eyes open to find the light blinding him. The voice, however, was unmistakable.

He’d done it. 

“Is that what you want me to do?” Steven mumbled. He felt the same sluggishness he had before, but he focused this time on every little thing his senses could muster. Steven could wiggle his fingers, if he tried hard enough. He could keep his eyes open, but only while listening. Talking took too much of him. He couldn’t do both. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Harrow responded. Steven squinted at him. He took a deep breath, then another. His vision grew clearer and his eyes less heavy. “It’s interesting, though. So often you fight with me. Now, you’re accepting my help without quarrel.”

Steven shifted in his chair. “Where’s Marc?”

“He’s resting, for now. It’s you I want to talk to, Steven.”

Dr. Harrow didn’t have the impatience in his tone from before. Steven focused as hard as he could on the feeling in his limbs. He tried to remember. He had come here for a reason. It was on the tip of his tongue. He was looking for Marc. He was looking for—

“Steven?” Harrow prompted again. “We were doing so well, don’t get distracted on me now.”

What was it that he was doing? 

“I need to leave,” Steven blurted. “I’m supposed to be… doing something…”

“Our appointment’s not over yet.” Harrows knuckles pulsed around his cane, as if he was ready to rise to his feet at a moment’s notice. “We have more work to do.”

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Steven insisted. He pushed himself up from his chair—were his limbs always this heavy?—and balanced himself against the desk. “I have to get somewhere…”

Safe. I have to get somewhere safe. 

“I can’t let you leave a session early.” Harrow stood against the cane, slowly making his way around the desk. Steven had an unparalleled hunch that he had to get out. He had to go elsewhere. He had to find Marc. He had to get them somewhere safe. 

“I’m not staying here.”

Steven’s knees buckled underneath him, but he successfully made the first step toward the door behind his chair. His vision was blurring again. He didn’t stop moving forward. 

“I’m trying to help you,” the doctor insisted. He approached Steven slowly. Gently. Steven wasn’t fast enough to get ahead of him. Dr. Harrow placed his hand squarely on Steven’s shoulder, beckoning him to sit. He turned him around, so they were face-to-face. 

Steven saw red. 

He gritted his teeth and pounced forward, head-butting the psychiatrist and knocking him backward into the table. Harrow brought his hand up to his face and Steven grabbed his cane. He drew it backward, bracing himself, and Harrow looked up at him through his fingers. Steven’s hand was around his throat. 

His face was patronizing. Self-assured. “Don’t be stupid, Steven.”

Oh, it’s far too late for that. 

Steven stumbled backward, regaining his balance on his own two feet. He lifted the cane, flipping it in his hand, and struck the doctor in his chest. The hit landed unlike wood on flesh. It was more like…

…

Like sand. 

He swung again, hitting Arthur square in the jaw. He tumbled to the ground unceremoniously. He didn’t cry or beg for help. Harrow simply toppled, but Steven didn’t let up. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. 

Not until it was safe. 

He brought the cane above his head, wielding it steady in both hands. It made a dull, flat sound as he brought it down at full force. Again. And again. and again. Steven kept going until his arms wouldn’t swing anymore. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the gruesome aftermath of what he’d done, but there was no body in front of him. There was no poor Dr. Harrow, whether dead or alive, by his feet. 

There was, however, a pile of ashen sand. Not golden, but gray. Steven dropped the cane and a puff of dust rose from the impact it made on the mound. 

He walked steadily out of the office. 

Steven didn’t know what he expected to be on the other side, but he was greeted with what he could only imagine was the field of reeds. That is, a literal field of literal reeds, spanning miles in each direction. It was a warm, colorful, peaceful contrast from where he’d just been. 

And he could do with it whatever he pleased. 

He rather liked the field as it was. He wanted to keep it. A field wasn’t exactly a home, though, Steven contested. It needed a bit more structure than that. And what better shelter to accompany a field of reeds?

A farmhouse. 

Steven didn’t have to think too hard about building the place. It was as if his mind was just waiting for the chance to conjure it. The porch wrapped around the front and the side, connecting to the exterior walls at either end. He pushed through the front door—a deep mahogany, by the way. Not white. Inside was a full living space with a kitchen and dining table, not unlike the one from his childhood, but far brighter. The room opened into the den, where a couch and two chairs met a wood-burning stove that Steven could feel the warmth radiating from as he approached. There was a singular bookshelf against the wall, with what Steven assumed was every book he could ever want. Beside it, a bulletin board. 

He knew immediately what it was for. Communication. Steven looked around further and came across a door to what he intuitively knew was his bedroom. He placed his hand on the knob tentatively, still quite in disbelief that he’d gotten himself here in the first place. He turned his palm, just a fraction of an inch, and a shuffle behind him drew his attention away. 

“Looks like you were right.”

He turned around. The image in front of him was…puzzling. 

“Marc?”

When they were separated in the Duat, Marc and Steven had looked for the most part just like the body. Sure, Marc was wearing a different shirt and his hair was slicked back the way that he always preferred, but they were otherwise the same. Same face, same stature, same body, same everything. 

This was not the case here. 

Marc looked, for lack of a better term, dreadful. His face was the same, in terms of shape and proportion, but almost everything about him was different in some way. For starters, his eyes were hollow and sunken. Not like the dark circles that Steven had gained from lack of sleep. This was something much deeper. More permanent. Marc looked like he’d never slept a wink in his life. 

He also looked smaller. Younger. Less like a warrior ready to defend himself and more like a kid who’d been drafted and given speed for performance. Marc’s muscles were sprung, his body ready to pounce at any sign of distress. His posture was straight and his chin was lifted, no doubt a lasting effect of his Marine training. Steven had the half-inclination to yell ‘at ease, soldier,’ but he figured it wouldn’t be as funny out loud. Or funny at all. 

Steven stepped closer to Marc, realizing now that Marc was looking up at him, and Steven down at Marc. He was taller than him, by a few inches at least. It occurred to him then that Marc wasn’t the only one who looked different on the inside. 

Marc’s hair was much shorter than the body’s. Not a buzz-cut, as Steven would have assumed, but short enough that his hair didn’t reach his eyebrows. The style was familiar, though, slicked back and brushed down just as Marc did normally on the outside. His hair wasn’t of interest to Steven, however. As he stepped forward, there was only one aspect of Marc’s appearance that he could manage to focus on. His heart dropped into his stomach. Or at least, that’s what Steven felt was happening as he took a closer look at Marc’s face. At his neck, at his arms. 

He was covered in scars. 

Small nicks, large gashes. Lines and holes and what he could only assume were welts from burns long healed. Marc was littered with them. A long, thick line ran across his face along the bridge of his nose. His top lip was permanently split. An indent on his collarbone resembled a ring, and a line of crescents on his neck left very little to the imagination as it replicated the texture of a half-inch metal chain. 

“What are you looking at?” Marc mumbled, uncomfortable. Steven hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring or how close he’d gotten to Marc. He went in for a hug, gripping Marc tightly for a moment. Once he reciprocated, they stayed like that for a while. Then, Steven shook his head and retreated a few steps back. 

“You look different in here,” he explained. Marc nodded in understanding. 

He gestured down at Steven’s body. “You too.”

Steven looked down at himself, noticing the way that his frame was so different from the one on the outside. He was tall, unusually tall and slender as well. He must have been at least 6 foot, a solid five or more inches taller than the body he was used to inhabiting. 

“You mind if I go look in the mirror?” Steven asked. Marc raised his eyebrows and shook his head. 

“I’ll join you. Wanna see what all that staring was about.”

He followed Steven into his bedroom. It was decorated just like a teenage boy’s room from the mid 1990s. Band posters plastered to the ceiling, Nintendo console connected to a bulky television in the corner of the room. Steven’s bed was a single, sheets covered in hieroglyphs. Marc chuckled at the contrast between the nerdy sci-fi knickknacks and the items that were unmistakably linked to Egyptology. 

Steven pulled him into the en-suite bath, which was simple and clean. 

They both froze at the images in the mirror. 

Steven’s hair was longer and thicker, somehow curlier than it was on the outside and much more unruly. He ran his hands through it, trying to calm down the odd directions that it sprang outward, but getting nowhere with the effort. His cheeks were rosy, contrasting Marc’s ashen skin, and his facial hair was grown into a shortly-kempt beard. He wore a thin, round pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. When he tried to take them off, he found that the world was not so much blurry as it was swimming in his vision. He elected to keep them on. 

Marc didn’t do much to adjust himself. He just stared at his image, his eyes darting to each scar that wasn’t covered by his clothes. Next to Steven, he looked like a walking corpse. There were so many scars on his body that an average onlooker would wonder how he survived it all. He hated to look at himself any longer. He thought he might be sick. 

“Marc?” Steven’s voice was soft. 

“Yeah,” he choked out. His gaze still didn’t waver. It was like his eyes were glued to his skin. 

Steven raised his hand to Marc’s neck, pointing his finger at the line of circles on his throat. “What are those?”

Marc’s voice was surprisingly steady as he answered. 

“Dubai.”

He brought his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling up the fabric to reveal a deep indent in his v-line, unmistakably a bullet hole. 

“Gabon.”

He turned away from the mirror, facing Steven head on. His hand rose to his face and he touched his index and middle fingers to the bridge of his nose. 

“New York.”

Nausea rose in Steven’s gut. He took Marc by the arm, pulling the both of them out of the bathroom and back to the den. Marc didn’t argue. 

“Are you saying you got all of these on missions for Khonshu?” Steven’s voice wavered as he sat on the edge of the couch. It was as if, on the inside, Khonshu’s armor had never existed at all. Each blow Marc had taken in battle had stuck with him. Each mortal wound he should have suffered, painted on his skin forever. 

“Some of them,” Marc answered. Steven shook his head, like he didn’t understand, and Marc lifted his shirt again. A bullet wound on his abdomen matched the lower indent on the opposite side. “This one’s from Bushman.”

“You took all of these hits?” Steven felt like his head was spinning. There were so many scars. 

Marc huffed. “Yeah, at some point or another.”

“My God.”

“It’s not so bad,” Marc countered. He could see how much Steven was affected. “I wouldn’t have gotten most of them if I didn’t have the armor. I would have never been in those fights in the first place. And it’s not like I was actually hurt that much.”

“I beg to differ,” Steven choked. His gaze fell to one particular gathering of scars, which Marc quickly hid from him by turning away. 

“Don’t even start,” he warned, covering them. 

“We’re gonna talk about those later,” Steven insisted. They sat in silence for another moment or two, taking in the new space. The architecture and furniture was vintage—out of the 1950s at the very latest. It truly felt like the two of them were on a homestead together. Safe, cozy, away from danger. The living space reminded Steven of the one in the Waltons, only smaller and without the half-dozen children constantly stomping through the place. 

“I’m gonna go find my room,” Marc finally said. Steven rose to go with him, but Marc held out his hand to gesture to him to stay behind. He retreated back into the couch, and watched as Marc disappeared behind the door on the other side of the dining table. 

Marc’s room was nothing like Steven’s. It was spacious and orderly, clearly designed for an adult. The suite reminded him of a hotel. Double doors in front of the bed led out onto the porch and the sheets a dull pattern of white and beige. The queen-size bed sat in the center of the room, not pushed to the corner like Steven’s had been. Model cars sat parallel on Marc’s chest of drawers and a thin, sleek lamp on his bedside table. The door to the en-suite bathroom was open. 

He didn’t understand why the bathroom was the way that it was. His bedroom, sure. He’d stayed in a million hotels ranging from the cheapest to almost-comfortable. Marc couldn’t understand, though, why so much care had been given to the bath. The vanity was long and glamorous. The walk-in shower was expansive and sleek. It dumbfounded him that he’d conjured a place so expensive in his mind. So luxurious, and for what? He didn’t even need to eat or sleep or shower in here, did he? The cherry on top, though, as he step forward into the spacious bathroom, was the large picture window and stand-alone tub. 

It was almost offensive how beautiful it was. The tub was big enough to swim in, it seemed. The claw-foot exterior resembled a vintage tub, same as the rest of the architecture in the place, complete with a golden faucet and knobs at the top. It was deep and wide, squeaky-clean and smooth to the touch. Marc imagined that, seated with his feet facing the faucet, the view out the window would be unparalleled. It was remarkably gorgeous. But why was it in his room?

Marc hadn’t taken a bath in more than thirty years. Only showers. He hadn’t seen the appeal since—

—since that day in the cave. 

Marc slammed the door behind him on the way out. He made his way back to the den, where Steven was warming his hands by the fire. He sat down in the chair across from him, and they sat together in peace. In quiet. 

It was better than lounging on the outside, for all it was worth. There was no busy street traffic or creaking air conditioning. Marc’s back didn’t ache like it did outside and Steven’s chest wasn’t permanently tight, either. There was…plainly stated…so little on the inside. Nothing loud or bright or overwhelming to deal with. It was just quiet. Warm. Safe. 

It lingered on for a while, almost so much that they could have felt timeless where they were. That was, until Steven jolted forward out of nowhere, prompting Marc to stand on edge just the same. The expression on Steven’s face was halfway between worry and curiosity. 

“Marc?” He timbred. 

“Yeah?” 

“We’re both in here.” He stated plainly. 

Marc was confused. “…Yeah?”

“Both of us are in here.” Steven enunciated slower. Marc shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. 

“I can see that.”

Steven huffed. “Don’t you get it?” 

“Get what?”

“If we’re both in here, then who’s controlling the body?”

Oh. 

That was a good question. 

~

~

A/N: Jonah has never proofread anything in their life. Also, I started this off by paying way more attention to whether it was accurate to real DID systems, but I don’t know if I accomplished that in the end. Bully me about it on anon. 

@n1ght5h4d3-24 @magicwithaknife @rmoonstoner @nervouslaught3r @unavoidabledirewolf @kbakery @mccn-bcys @gingermous @avatarofseshat @damreonsgirl @dragons-are-my-favorite @k8esilver @competentpotato @theconsultingdoctor10 @rayrlupin @moony-artemis @nerdory10 @valkyrieace

@ahookedheroespureheart @mt2sssss @loki-hargreeves @starfirette @celeste412 @avengersinitiative2012 @sifinskies @unspokenmoon @maplemind @mainstreambitchlife @hot-mess-express1 @toracainz @zarahbronstein @daughterofthequeen @am-3-thyst @romanarose @wand-erer5 @jake-g-lockley @in-between-the-cafes @alexismm @moonmoonboys

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #oscar isaac #layla el faouly #fire within my soul #masterlist #moon boys

[weepingfromacedartree]

Ten Milestones (Interlude): Voicemails

Hi friends!

Another interlude chapter is ready for ya. It's quite different than our standard chapters, so... enjoy :)

Two quick notes:

1. This interlude spans the first five-ish years of Colin’s travels abroad. It starts after the events of Chapter 5 and will lead directly into next chapter.

2. Anytime “…” appears between paragraphs, it’s to indicate that the speaker is pausing for a few seconds.

June 9th, 2015 - 3:23 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hey! I wanted to call and make sure you landed safely. But I, uh —

[Laughter.]

I think I got the timing wrong. I think you’re still in the air. So just call me back whenever you do land.

…

I still can’t believe you’re really doing this. I mean —

[Nervous laughter.]

Obviously, I can believe it. I just — I can’t wait to hear all about it. 

Bye, Colin. 

~~~~~~~~~~

June 29th, 2015 - 7:07 AM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. I just emailed you a few pictures, but um —

[Laughter.]

Did you know there are like a million stray cats roaming around Athens? I swear, there’s at least one on every corner, popping his head out looking for food or attention. But I was just going for a run and — I swear to god — I saw the reincarnation of Mr. Whiskers pissing on an olive tree. This tiny grey fur ball looked up at me and —

…

Wait. Is Mr. Whiskers dead? He would be like twelve now, right? I —

…

Well… In the case that he’s still alive, I think I just saw his long lost Greek cousin. Professor Whiskers, maybe.

[Laughter.]

Alright, Pen. Talk soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~

August 27th, 2015 - 2:13 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. Just saw your text. Yes, I landed safely. Yes, Madrid is beautiful. No, I have yet to try the paella — but I promise you’ll be the first to receive my review. 

[Laughter.]

I’ll call you later once I get a bit more settled. Bye Pen. 

~~~~~~~~~~

October 18th, 2015 - 9:20 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hey. I just finished reading over the Italy piece. It was good. Like, really good… But perhaps one too many cheese puns? 

…

Anyway… Call me back when you have the chance. You still haven’t told me about Caffè Florian. [Laughter.] Do they even stock enough sugar for your tea? 

…

Okay, well… Goodnight Colin. 

~~~~~~~~~~

November 23rd, 2015 - 7:39 AM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. 

Sorry. I know it’s early. But I also know today is gonna be shit so, uh…

…

Call me later, if you can. 

~~~~~~~~~~

December 16th, 2015 - 10:01 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. I’m calling from Paris and —

I don’t know why I said that. [Laughter.] Obviously you know I’m in Paris. But, I — I was just watching the tower light up and I had a sudden memory of you telling me you wanted to come here once and I…

…

I could be misremembering. [Faint laughter.] It was a while ago, I think. But I think you’d like it here. I’ll tell you all about it at that surprise Welcome Home/Birthday/Christmas Eve Party that I know absolutely nothing about. 

Night, Pen. See you soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

February 14th, 2016 - 9:27 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. I hate to admit it, but I am only just now realising that time zones exist and that if it’s 9:30 in New York, it’s…

…

Shit. 2:30 in London.

I apologise for ringing you in the middle of the night —

Actually — no I don’t. If I recall correctly, you’re up writing or reading or procrastinating until at least 3 AM every night anyway. Please call me back ASAP with your own apology for dodging this very important phone call. 

~~~~~~~~~~

April 7th, 2016 - 8:08 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. I’m on the train heading into Chicago. My computer just died, so I apologise in advance for the stream of consciousness bullshit I’m about to leave for you in this message. But, um…

There’s something about being on this train that has me thinking about travel and distance and —

Good god, this already sounds corny. Sorry. Bear with me a moment. 

…

It wasn’t until I landed in New York that I realised just how far away from home I was. I looked it up, and the city was about five and a half thousand kilometres away from London. I mean — god. I remember being at Eton and thinking 35 kilometres was an insane distance. 

In January, New York was the furthest place I had ever been from home. Then I went to Toronto, and that became the furthest place I had ever been from home. Now I’m heading into Chicago and —

I don’t know. There’s something about being on a train that’s making me hyper-aware of just how fast I’m hurdling forward. How, every second, I’m travelling even further and further away from the pinpoint where I’ll always measure my distances from. I —

[Tired laughter.]

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, honestly. Nonetheless, thank you for lending me your future ear — assuming you actually made it this far. I —

…

Oh — I see the city up ahead. Once I get to my hotel, perhaps I can try to turn this bullshit into something a bit less corny. 

I’ll call you tomorrow. Night, Pen. 

~~~~~~~~~~

June 6th, 2016 - 6:15 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. 

Guess who’s flight just took off without him? I know — shocking, coming from such an experienced traveller such as myself. But my connecting flight was delayed so I really can’t take any of the blame.

…

Anyway… I’m stuck in Terminal E of Logan International, where I’ll likely be spending the next several hours dying from boredom and eating as many bags of crisps as I can get my hands on. If you aren’t too busy, maybe you can call me back and help with the boredom bit. 

Talk soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~

August 7th, 2016 - 12:49 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hi! I was just looking at your pictures from Cyprus and I —

[Distant clap of thunder.]

Oh. [Laughter.] I was wondering what it’s like to be in beautiful, sunny weather in the middle of the summer. Must be devastating. 

~~~~~~~~~~

September 21st, 2016 - 8:30 AM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. I was just reading back your notes on my piece and I’m a little confused about the last one. 

What the fuck does “too many food puns” mean? The only reason I came to Hungary was to capitalise on its pun potential. 

Please call me back ASAP so we can get this sorted.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 24th, 2016 - 12:02 AM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. 

Sorry, I know it’s late. But I’m also waiting around doing absolutely nothing, so I thought I would check in. 

I’m still in Sweden. But we’ll, uh — we’ll probably take off in the morning once the snow lets up. I —

…

I can’t believe it’s been six months since I’ve seen you. Since I’ve seen anyone at home. I’m a little worried that I’ll get home tomorrow and find that Greg now towers over me. Hyacinth called me last week just to complain about his latest growth spurt, so…

… 

Oh shit. Sorry — I knew it was late, but I didn’t realise it's already midnight. 

Merry Christmas Eve, then. I suppose it’s still technically the 23rd in London — but I suppose that doesn’t matter much when it comes to voicemails. 

I feel like there’s another commemoration on this date that I’m forgetting. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but it’s so late and I’m just so bloody tired…

…

Oh well. It’ll come back to me. 

Night, Pen. See you soon.  

~~~~~~~~~~

May 3rd, 2017 - 11:50 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. Sorry. I didn’t realise how late it was. I —

…

Did you know that you can’t sink in the Dead Sea? The water is so dense with salt that your body will just pop up if you try to go under. You could try your absolute hardest to sink to the bottom, and it just wouldn’t let you. 

I think there’s a metaphor in there somewhere. But it’s also very late and I just spent half the night staring at a Word doc and I’m starting to lose my ability to process complex thought. 

…

Fuck it. I’m sending you the first draft now. It’s shit, but if you’re not too busy tomorrow, maybe you can send me your thoughts. And prayers.

…

Alright. Night Pen. 

~~~~~~~~~~

August 24th, 2017 - 10:17 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hey! Um… 

Daphne wanted me to call and remind you all not to get the groom too drunk the night before his wedding. Fair warning: if you don’t call me back within five minutes to confirm that Simon is still standing upright, she’s prepared to send Eloise in to break up the party. 

~~~~~~~~~~

October 10th, 2017 - 7:54 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. Just calling ‘cause I wanted to ask if you’ve ever tried pickle soup. It sounds kind of strange but —

[Slurp.]

Good god. It’s bloody delicious. Absolutely recommend. 

[Slurp.]

Talk soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~

December 31st, 2017 - 10:58 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey, Pen. At the risk of sounding extremely needy… 

You’re still coming tonight, right? God knows who invited her, but Cressida Cowper is here and she keeps handing me tequila shots and I really don’t —

…

Oh shit! There you a—

~~~~~~~~~~

January 19th, 2018 - 2:30 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hi! Just wanted to call and see how Sydney’s treating you so far. Is it weird to be experiencing summer in the middle of January? 

[Laughter.] 

Anyway… Call me back when you have the chance. 

~~~~~~~~~~

April 20th, 2018 - 5:58 PM

To: pen ✨✨

From: colin ✈️

Hey! Good news — the baby’s here! In worse, but also extremely funny news…

Apparently El walked in while Daphne was pushing. Mum said her face literally went white before doubling over onto the floor. I —

…

Actually, I should probably go and check on her. I think they’re treating her for a concussion as we speak. 

See you soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~

May 24th, 2018 - 4:44 PM

To: colin ✈️

From: pen ✨✨

Hey! Sorry — can you call me back when you have the chance? I know we’re supposed to get lunch tomorrow, but Danbury just called and asked if I could come in tomorrow about the columnist position and I know we already had to postpone, but I’m worried I —

[Sigh.]

Sorry. 

[Nervous laughter.] 

I’m rambling. Call me back so we can discuss.

~~~~~~~~~~

June 25th, 2018 - 6:21 PM

To: pen 💛 

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen. Just wanted to call and see how your first day on the job was. And, of course, to complain about having to travel by myself again. I almost forgot how bloody boring these layovers can be without someone there to complain about them with. 

[Faint laughter.] 

In person, I mean. 

…

Anyway, call me when you’re free. I can’t wait to, uh — 

[Cough.]

To hear about your day. Talk soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~

August 22nd, 2018 - 9:09 PM

To: pen 💛 

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen. Just calling because, uh — 

Because I wanted to say hi, really. 

…

Venice is good. It’s quite nice, this time of year. The weather’s starting to cool a bit. The water is calm. The food is the best in the world — but that’s not really time sensitive. 

…

I really cannot stress this enough. I believe it to be a great tragedy that you have yet to eat real Italian pasta. I know you’re extremely busy with work, but if you happen to have a free weekend over the next few weeks, the door is always open. 

…

Alright. Night, Pen.

~~~~~~~~~~

September 21st, 2018 - 11:51 PM

To: pen 💛 

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen. Sorry for the late call. But I, uh —

[Faint laughter.]

I forgot how warm it is in Greece this time of year. I’m currently sitting by a river at midnight and it’s actually quite pleasant. Disturbingly so, if you ask me. 

There are a few dozen other people here enjoying the weather — smoking and talking and wearing sandals, or all things. I can’t imagine anyone wearing sandals in London tonight. 

…

There’s a lot I’ve forgotten about Greece. Like the cats. It’s insane, Pen. I can see three right now without even having to turn my head. I —

…

It’s just strange. I stayed here for nearly three months. That was three years ago, but still… Nothing fundamental has changed during that time. And yet…

…

And yet it feels unfamiliar to me now. But I suppose that has more to do with me — and perhaps time — than the country itself. 

…

God. I sound like somebody’s grandfather. I think that’s my cue to head back to my hotel.

Night, Pen. Talk soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~

December 19th, 2018 - 11:12 PM

To: pen 💛 

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen. Sorry — I know it’s late. 

I just sent you the first draft of my piece and…

I don’t know. There’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot. I tried to weave it into the story, but my readers don’t come to me for Bridgerton family history lessons, so —

[Laughter.]

Suffice to say, I left it out. 

But I don’t know. I just — I keep thinking about it.

…

Did you know my grandfather was stationed here at the end of World War II? He came here in ‘44, about a year before it all went shit for the Germans. And when it did, he was given the option to leave Vienna and immediately return to London. At the time, he hadn’t been home — hadn’t seen my gran — in over three years. They wrote hundreds of letters to each other during that time — all of which are stashed in a box at Aubrey Hall, in case you were wondering. But anyway…

When the war ended, as much as my grandfather wanted to go home and see my gran’s face again, he wrote to her and asked if she would be willing to wait a little while longer. If she could stand it if he stayed here. If he remained in Vienna while the allied forces first occupied the city — to continue carrying out his duty. 

She said yes. He stayed here another two years. He arrived back on English shores on April 6th, 1947. Two days later, they got married. They did at a courthouse, just the two of them together. Like they were the last two people in the world. 

…

I, uh — I didn’t piece this all together through the letters alone. My dad actually told me about it a few weeks before he died. I remember asking him why granddad stayed in Vienna for so long after the war technically ended. How he could stand to stay away from the woman he seemed so desperate to return to.

I remember my dad telling me: “There are times when duty surmounts passion.” Which I didn’t understand. Mainly because I was eight and had no fucking clue what the word “surmounts” meant, but…

Now, I understand what he was trying to say. That duty and passion are separate. That my grandfather’s duty lied in war, while his passion lied with his love. That his duty went beyond his required deployment period. That he stayed in Vienna those extra two years because that’s what he felt was right, even if he would have preferred to go home and be with the love of his life. 

Now, I —

…

I think my dad was wrong. He described my grandfather’s duty to his country as passionless — as if it was something he had to do when he wanted to be elsewhere. But I’ve read my grandfather’s journals from that time, and he never wrote about his life like he was carrying the weight of the world on his back. He may have been homesick and distressed at times — it was a bloody war, for god’s sake. But he — he was also proud of what he was doing. He was fulfilled. He was not drowning in a lack of passion. 

I think we —

[Cough.]

I think some people, at least, have multiple passions. Passions that are at war with one another. That make it impossible to achieve everything we want all at once. Some that beg us to go home, some that beg us to stay. 

I think my grandfather made a choice. I think he chose one passion for a while, and one forever. I think he knew that once they married, he wouldn’t be able to bear living without my nan ever again. 

…

[Awkward laughter.]

I guess he was lucky that she was willing to wait for him.

…

[Sigh.]

Well… I believe I’ve taken up enough of your time. If you somehow managed to listen all the way to the end, I sincerely apologise for the rambling. I promise I’ll wait until Sunday to share the rest of my travel epiphanies with you. 

Take care, Pen.

~~~~~~~~~~

December 20th, 2018 - 12:11 AM

To: colin 🤡 

From: pen 💛

I always listen until the end. 

I’ll see you on Sunday. Goodnight, Colin. 

~~~~~~~~~~

January 31st, 2019 - 3:45 PM

To: pen 💛 

From: colin 🤡

You know, Pen, I’m starting to suspect that you purposely ‘miss’ my calls just so you can listen back to these wonderful voice messages whenever it pleases you. And while I can understand your desire to have these recordings stashed away forever, I would selfishly prefer some actual back-and-forth between us. 

I’m currently sitting outside one of the seven wonders of the world. Call me back and I’ll tell you all about it.

~~~~~~~~~~

March 21st, 2019 - 5:17 PM

To: colin 🤡 

From: pen 💛

Hey! Thank you so much for your insights on my story. Danbury loved it. 

Call me back when you have the chance. Thanks again!

~~~~~~~~~~

April 29th, 2019 - 7:57 PM

To: pen 💛 

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen. Just wanted to give you a head’s up that I just sent you a draft and it’s absolute bollocks. If you can manage to turn it into something vaguely readable, I will literally fly you out here just to say thanks. And I know how much you love Thai food. 

~~~~~~~~~~

June 29th, 2019 - 10:20 PM

To: colin 🤡 

From: pen 💛

Hey! Sorry, I just saw that you called! And I am now remembering that you’re in Dubai and probably — hopefully — fast asleep by now so…

[Laughter.]

…

[Indecipherable noise.]

We’re, uh — We’re still out for Kate’s birthday. We’re on our way to karaoke, actually.

[Laughter.]

Thank god El is here, or else I would be worried about being the worst singer in the pub. I —

[Indecipherable noise.]

Sorry! I have to go. Call me when we’re both awake. 

Lo—

[Cough.]

Um… Goodnight!

~~~~~~~~~~

October 18th, 2019 - 8:08 PM

To: colin 🤡 

From: pen 💛

Did you really just send me an SOS text from Los Angeles? I admire your creativity, but this is not how you convince someone to drop everything and take an impromptu holiday with you. 

…

In the event that you are in an actual emergency, please contact the proper authorities. I appreciate your commitment to the bit, but I ask that you please not sacrifice your life for it. 

~~~~~~~~~~

December 9th, 2019 - 8:30 AM

To: pen 💛 

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen.

I just finished reading your new column. Phenomenal, as always… But how the hell did you manage to sneak a pun in there? I thought Danbury had a strict policy against “superfluous literary devices.”

However you managed it… Congratulations. I couldn’t be prouder. 

~~~~~~~~~~

December 19th, 2019 - 4:41 PM

To: colin 🤡 

From: pen 💛

Hey! I had a work thing tonight but it just got cancelled. Any chance you want to meet at Mondrich’s? 

Let me know. I’ll, um, hopefully see you soon. 

~~~~~~~~~~

January 29th, 2020 - 9:22 PM

To: pen 💛 

From: colin 🤡

Hey, Pen. 

…

You’re the closest thing I have to a manager, right? In your professional opinion…

Would it be crazy to bail on this trip early? Give myself, uh… 48 hours to go home and grab some proper fish and chips. See Auggie and Blair. See mum. See you — obviously. London isn’t the most logical pit stop between Berlin and Prague but…

…

Yeah — you know what? It was a dumb idea. I’ve got plenty of those, so… 

Call me back when you’re not too busy. Maybe I can share some more. 

~~~~~~~~~~

February 14th, 2020 - 10:00 AM

To: colin 🤡 

From: pen 💛

Good morning!

Is it still morning in Prague? I —

[Faint laughter.]

I suppose that doesn’t matter much when it comes to voicemails. I, um — 

I’m doing some research on old churches. Which — don’t ask. But I’m currently sitting on the steps outside St. Bride’s Church. I don’t know if you’d recognise it, but it’s the one downtown that, um —

[Laughter.]

The one that looks like a wedding cake. 

I think you’d like it. And not just because of its food-shaped exterior. 

It’s actually considered a church for writers. And for publishers. It got that reputation back in the 17th century, when the publishing industry was booming here on Fleet Street. But, regardless of all that…

It’s really quite an interesting building. I can see why it’s attracted and inspired so many great writers over the years. 

Maybe we can check it out the next time you’re in town. Which is…

God. June, I think? 

…

Anyway… I’m still at the very beginning stages of my research, so I barely know what it is I want to write about yet. But one thing that’s stuck out to me so far is how old these buildings feel. How the architecture, the acoustics, the artwork, the — 

…

Honestly? I’m not sure exactly what does it, but something makes these buildings feel as though they’ve stood here forever. This particular church has only been here about 350 years. But still… You feel all that time when you walk through its halls. 

It’s a good reminder, I think. To know how long things last. 

…

Wow. So this is how it feels to be on the other side of these long, rambling, stream of consciousness voicemails. 

[Faint laughter.]

Bye, Colin. Thank you for lending me your future ear. 

~~~~~~~~~~

March 11th, 2020 - 5:55 PM

To: colin 🤡 

From: pen 💛

Hi! I just got off my train. I assume you’re still in the air, so just text me whenever you land. 

Hopefully the airport wasn’t too chaotic, but um…

…

I’ll meet you at the hotel. I — 

I can’t wait to see you. 

#bridgerton #polin #fanfiction #weepingfromacedartree #fanfic #ao3 #ten milestones #penelope x colin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

[justmochi]

Away

pairing :: eden x seokmin

word count :: 1.3k

synopsis :: eden and seokmin facetime while on tour.

time :: november, 2022

warnings :: fluff, angst. they have a tiny argument but it gets resolved

taglist :: @cafemilk-tea @cixrosie @moonlight-additions @cosmicwintr @astraw-astro @ateezjuliet @succulentmom​​

The hotel room was quiet and cool, Eden groaning to herself when seeing the digital clock reading 4AM. It was a vicious cycle of her laying in bed for 30 minutes before getting up to go to the bathroom and splashing her face with cold water. She even considered getting in the warm bath in hopes of falling asleep in the tub. She hadn’t had this much trouble sleeping in months. It was probably the homesickness getting to her. She had been in Korea for the past two years but never left for this long of a stretch. Getting only an hour of sleep was starting to wear her down during their tour.

After washing her face once more, she paced her room a few times before picking up her phone. She was surprised to see a notification from her boyfriend, quickly opening it and seeing a picture he sent of his dinner. They were in two completely different timezones now. When his schedule was packed with activities and promotions, she was either rehearsing, performing, or supposed to be sleeping. The only time they could really talk was during the late hours like right now.

She watched him send another text, apologizing for texting her so late and forgetting about the timezones. She giggled, another text coming through of him cursing realizing the more texts he sent that she was bound to wake up.

‘Damn, I’ll stop now. I’m sorry I hope I don’t wake you up.”

She sat on her bed before pressing the video call button, hoping he would answer. She was relieved to see his worried face looking at her through the screen. “Baby, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Eden smiled, shaking her head before throwing her legs up on the bed and laying down. “No, it’s okay. I’ve been awake.”

“Why are you awake?”

“Can’t sleep. I think I’m getting homesick.” She pulled the thin sheet over her shoulders, getting her head comfortable against the pillow.

“I’m sorry.” Seokmin frowned, his lips pouting as he broke his chopsticks into two.

“Your dinner looks good. Is that what you sent me pictures of?”

“Yeah. It looks like I’m eating by myself tonight.”

“Eat your dinner with me. I’m right here.” She smiled, watching him look up with a blush on his cheeks.

“Are you sure? You need to rest.”

“I know I know, I wouldn’t be able to sleep either way.” She motioned him to eat his food with her hand.

The two talked while Seokmin ate his dinner over the phone. It had been ages since they had dinner over a video call. It was usually just the two going out together.

There was a moment when she tried to hide her giggles, a piece of food stuck at the corner of his mouth.

“What’s funny?” He asked innocently. Eden pointed to her own lip.

“You’ve got something there.” If she was there in person, she would’ve grabbed a napkin and gotten it herself.

He snorted, hiding his face from the camera and wiping his lips. “Thank you.”

“If only I was there to take care of you.” She chuckled, grabbing her phone and turning on her other side.

Seokmin set his phone up, asking her about all her tour stops so far and hearing her ramble about all the interesting things that have happened. They shared a couple laughs before Eden grew quiet, the long stretch of silence enough to worry him that something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” He laid his head in his arms, looking up at the phone with puppy eyes. She had a faint smile before sighing.

“I just know my body is going to give out on me by the end of the year. I can already feel myself shutting down.”

“E, you just have to remember to take care of yourself.”

“I know and I do.” She pursed her lips.

“I know touring is exhausting. That’s why sleep is the most important thing you need right now. It’s not healthy going this many days without sleep.”

Eden was at the point where she got irritated when someone just told her to sleep, as if it was that easy. For a while, he was the perfect remedy for her insomnia.

“Can no one grasp the concept of insomnia?” She got defensive, running her hand through her hair. “I’m tired of everyone telling me I need to sleep as if it’s so easy and effortless.”

“I understand-“ 

“Do you? You of all people would know it’s just not that easy for me.”

The man was silent, unsure of what to say next. Eden hadn’t ever expressed herself in this way to him so it was new territory. Now he wondered if she was mad at him and immediately felt guilty.

It was way too quiet for the both of them. Now their comfortable silence that was always normal to them felt so antagonizing. 

“I’m sorry, Seok.” She covered her face with her hands, sighing. “I don’t mean to be a bitch. I’m just so tired.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m sorry too.” He pouted, looking down at his hands and messing with the ring on his pinky finger.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m being a bitch when you’re just trying to help.” Tears pooled in her eyes because of the possibility of hurting his feelings.

“You’re sleep deprived, of course you’re gonna be a bit more sensitive.”

She nodded knowing he was right, wiping her eyes and looking back at the phone as she slipped her hand underneath her cheek to rest on the pillow.

“I love you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. So please just look out for yourself whenever you can and I will work on being more understanding.” 

The couple agreed, hearing each other out after getting over the gloomy atmosphere.

“Seungkwan’s even got me drinking those americanos.” She sighed heavily, watching him laugh at her comment.

“How do you like them?”

“I don’t like it but I need the energy. I’ll take whatever I can get.” They stared at each other through their phones as it grew quiet again.

“I miss you. Like a lot.” Eden whispered, pulling her blanket closer to her chest and feeling her heart swell by how domestic he looked. His hair covered his forehead and he was wearing a hoodie.

“I miss you too.” He held his arms out like he was asking for a hug, except she couldn’t give one to him.

She reached for the lamp on the nightstand, turning it off and laying back down. She took one of the extra pillows she had and propped the phone against it. She yawned, covering her mouth as he smiled at her.

She couldn’t help but smile back. His grins were contagious.

“Are you gonna try to sleep?” He asked her, speaking softly.

“I want to. I have to be up in three hours.”

He started humming, watching the corners of her lips curl into a smile. “Should I sing?”

“If that’s okay.” He knew she liked it when he sang to her. She also loved hearing him talk and falling asleep mid conversation. It was different not having him in person.

Seokmin started singing, making sure not to be too loud. When she would peek one of her eyes open, he caught her and kissed the camera for her. He tried to sing with a smile on his face, but watching her toss and turn and shifting her head just to get comfortable against the pillow made him sympathize with her.

He brought his phone with him everytime he moved. He sang when cleaning up his food and doing his skincare. When he got comfortable in his own bed and plugged his phone in, he saw how her facial expressions loosened. Eden had finally drifted off to sleep.

He wanted to be sure she was really asleep, so he hummed for a while more, even singing some of his songs to her. He was getting tired too, mouthing an ‘I love you’ to not disturb her slumber. He pressed the mute button, dozing off shortly after.

#justmochi: eden #eden.writings #eunmin #eden.love #blackpink 5th member #5th member of blackpink #blackpink oc #fake blackpink member #fake blackpink oc #fake kpop addition #fake kpop idol #fake kpop soloist #kpop addition #addition to kpop #dokyeom x oc

[the-invisible-queer]

Sooooo for the anon who asked (and for you of course, if you're interested), I've compiled a lazy timeline of Joe's relationship history - just things I remembered off-hand, no researching or fact-checking or anything. I'm truly sorry for how fucking long it is lmao, tbh you may want to copy and paste it into a text post so you can put a Read More bc holy shit why has this man had so many relationships and WHY DID I REMEMBER SO MUCH OF IT WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME. As a disclaimer my level of JB obsession has varied a lot over the years, so some of these relationships I know a lot more about than others just based on how closely I was following Joe at the time, and again I didn't research literally anything here so it's possible some of it may be misremembered. Okay here we go:

Mandy, who the OG song Mandy was written about, was the first Joe romantic interest fans ever knew about. I don’t remember anymore if they were actually even together at all or if he just like had a crush on her or something, but he was definitely into her to some degree when he was very young.

He dated AJ Michalka from Aly and AJ for some unknown length of time when they were like 15-16. He eventually revealed that she was his first kiss, she miiiiight have said he was hers too but I also could have imagined that. For a long time it was rumored that Potential Breakup Song was about him, but years and years later while answering fan questions on Twitter AJ finally said it wasn’t, but a different breakup song called Flattery was. (First known appearance of Joe Jonas: Serial Muse Extraordinaire. It would take two more strikes for him to finally seemingly learn that he should probably stop dating and dumping songwriters.)

For a hot minute he was rumored to be dating Miley’s friend/backup dancer Mandy (of The Miley and Mandy Show fame) during the Best of Both Worlds Tour, but I genuinely to this day don’t know if that was true or not lol. I remember a couple vaguely 👀 pictures existing of the two of them but they also both seemed to just be physically affectionate people in general, so they truly could have just been friends.

Joe met Taylor Swift in 2008 and, as teenagers sometimes do, they had what seemed to be a brief but intense relationship that then exploded into a dramatic mess. He famously broke up with her via a 27-second phone call, she famously exposed this on the Ellen show, and then they both spent the next couple years just publicly whacking each other at random opportunities before the bad blood (no pun intended) between them seemed to dry up and they gradually became friends, especially once Joe started dating Gigi Hadid who was already close friends with Taylor. A lot of bangers came out of this relationship and breakup on Taylor’s end – I can’t pretend that songs like Jump Then Fall and Last Kiss weren’t integral to my young Joe girl fantasies about the kind of boyfriend he was, really appreciated that very descriptive imagery – but IIRC the only JB song specifically known to be about her was Much Better. The Jaylor arc eventually wrapped up with both of them saying it was silly teen drama they laugh about now and each making gestures of amends (him changing the live lyrics of Much Better to acknowledge that they’re cool with each other, her saying she regretted putting him on blast on Ellen and should have handled it differently) and she sent him and Sophie a baby present before Willa was born. ALSO: one of my favorite bits of hilariously random Joe lore ever is that in 2015 he went to one of Taylor’s concerts and hung out with her brother, who at one point very literally had Joe’s tiny ass sitting on his shoulders while they vibed to the music. Like…okay then lmfao.

Next was Camilla Belle, who he met when she starred in the Lovebug music video. I’d be remiss not to acknowledge that the public Taylor/Camilla timeline was a bit messy and it’s not entirely clear to this day if there was any overlap or if he fully dumped Taylor before pursuing the new object of his interests, but either way it was pretty clear at the time that he didn’t really behave wonderfully there. Maybe watching Nick start living out his own fuckboy love triangle era around this time inspired him. Regardless, he and Camilla were together for I want to say several months at least before he seemed to get his heart broken pretty badly. I was kind of getting less involved in Jonas fandom by then due to some new fixation I was having instead so I don’t really remember what happened between them, if we ever even knew to begin with, but I do remember him seeming pretty torn up over her for a hot minute there. The one other bit of Camilla lore I remember was that there was apparently some drama at the beginning because Joe and Nick both liked her, which in hindsight is extremely ?????????? all around bc 1) Nick was like 16 and I'm pretty sure Camilla was like 22, he absolutely should not have even been in that conversation at all, 2) Joe probably shouldn't have been in the conversation at all either considering he literally already had a girlfriend at the time and 3) genuinely the very last thing Nick should have been doing in 2008 was trying to pick up a THIRD girl as if his plate wasn't more than full enough already? Was his little ass trying to build a harem??? ANYWAY.

I think Demi was next after Camilla, but again I was falling out of keeping close track of the Jonaii during this time so this is where things start getting pretty fuzzy. I want to say they got together at some point during the filming of Camp Rock 2, or maybe during the press tour for it? and their relationship was fairly highly-publicized, including a professional joint photoshoot and interview they did for some magazine which awkwardly released like right after they broke up lol. While Demi’s feelings seem to have been fully genuine, Joe revealed (or at least implied, I honestly never read what he said about this firsthand lol I just heard about it a lot) at some point years later that he’d felt pressured into dating her by Disney/his team for publicity reasons. I withhold judgment on that aspect since this was obviously a super fucked up situation neither of those very young people should have ever been put in by their employers in the first place, but regardless he clearly went on to hurt her in some way bc she wrote a lot of heartbroken songs about him (including some she co-wrote with Nick, which he’s said was very awkward for him lmao). The song Sorry from Fastlife – not to be confused with Sorry from ALBL, which was about Miley – is commonly thought to be about Demi, though idk if that was ever officially confirmed or not. They clearly worked things out at some point though, because for several years in the 2010s they seemed to be fairly close friends…until they weren’t anymore. It’s still not clear if something happened between them specifically or if Joe sided with his brother in whatever fallout destroyed her friendship with Nick or what, but for a while Demi appeared to be on pretty bad terms with all the brothers. Nowadays she and Joe seem to be okay with each other – they hung out at her Halloween party a few years ago and seemingly had a good time together, and I think they sometimes like each other’s IG posts and such – but alas, the glory days of their friendship seem to be over for good.

At some point somewhere in all of this Joe dated Brenda Song for like three weeks or something??? We know almost nothing about this fling except that it happened. I constantly manage to forget about this and every single time I remember I’m just as surprised as I was the first time I learned it.

I wasn’t paying much attention at all when Ashley Greene showed up in Joe’s life so I genuinely don’t remember when that happened – I feel like it could potentially have been anywhere from late-ish 2009 to early-ish 2011 – or how long they lasted. I do remember that he always seemed happy with her and from what little I saw of them I thought they looked more serious than any of his past relationships had. She apparently inspired most of Fastlife. At some point they broke up, which as far as I know wasn’t dramatic (at least not publicly) but again, I was barely keeping up with Joe at the time. Years later, he revealed in a Reddit AMA that he lost his virginity to her.

I vaguely recall him going on like one or two dates with various random women in the early 2010s, none of whom seemed to stick for very long before being replaced with another. The only somewhat notable one of these women was model Natashia Ho; we’ll come back to that in a minute.

At some point in 2012 he started dating artist Blanda Eggenschwiler, who would become his longest and most serious relationship until Sophie. They seemed very happy together and posted each other on IG a lot. At some point he got a tattoo inspired by one of her paintings, which he still has and presumably has no plans to ever remove or cover up. In early 2013 there was a wild and hysterical rumor about a sex tape of the two of them that allegedly involved, among other things, Joe getting paddled with a ball gag in his mouth – during the initial hilarious drama of this rumor dropping Natashia Ho, previously all but forgotten about by fans, tweeted “Yea sounds about right” and then deleted it shortly after which was…honestly probably still the funniest thing any Jonas ex has ever done tbh. An icon. ANYWAY: My most vivid memory from this relationship is that during the big drama of the band breaking up (though at the time we didn’t know yet that was what was going on, just that the tour that had been about to start got cancelled super suddenly and everyone was being weird and vague about why and Joe and Kevin seemed upset), we got several days of sad or anxious-looking Joe candids in a row, and then the first time we saw him smiling again after everything exploded was when Blanda was with him ❤️ Most of the fandom liked Blanda a lot and and we quietly suspected for a while there that she was the woman he was going to marry (he may have also thought this himself at one time), but alas, they shocked us all by announcing their breakup in I believe August of 2014. As far as I remember there was never any post-breakup drama or anything between them and she just kind of faded away from fandom consciousness, except for one incident I remember from a few months after the breakup where she posted like a half-finished drawing of a face that looked suspiciously similar to Joe’s on her IG, leading to a lot of speculation and debate among fans about if it was supposed to be him or not and what, if anything, it meant if it was. (The answer apparently was that it meant nothing, because they didn’t get back together or anything, although I’m not sure if that’s even what we were expecting anyway. In hindsight that whole situation was just kinda dumb and pointless lmao but it kept us entertained for days regardless.)

Joe and Gigi Hadid started dating in I want to say early 2015. I was barely paying attention at this point and genuinely have no recollection at all of how long this relationship lasted – I feel like it was pretty short-lived but idk – but it went on at least long enough for her to direct the Cake By The Ocean music video, so there’s that I guess. Gigi got back with her ex Zayn very shortly after they broke up and Joe apparently made some kind of comment (again, I never read it just heard about it) implying that he was somewhat bitter about this. When asked at some point not super long after their breakup to play Fuck/Marry/Kill with three of his famous exes, he said he would kill Gigi (and marry Demi and fuck Taylor, if anyone's curious). If there was any further Joegi lore after that, I either never knew it or don’t remember it.

Joe and Sophie started talking in DMs and then hanging out in person at some unspecified point in 2016, but weren’t publicly spotted together until late in the year – IIRC they were first seen together in group pics from some random Halloween party, but no one really seemed to put two and two together until a few days later when they were caught fully making out at a Kings of Leon concert lol. They got engaged roughly a year later in October 2017, got Vegas-married in May 2019 and then married-married in France in June 2019, and welcomed two baby girls in July 2020 and July 2022 respectively. I’m choosing to stop here bc you said you know the most recent stuff and I don’t want to make myself sad lol 🙃

OKAY WELL that was long as hell and made me feel lowkey pathetic for knowing all this lmao but hopefully it satisfied your thirst for tea, anon. Now to start working on Nick's timeline... 🫡

HOLY SHIT BESTIE

I'm on mobile so I can't actually copy and paste that whole thing so y'all gonna have to deal with it

Rest in RIP to everyone's dashes

And the fact that I did know all of these and just forgot about a few but didn't know timeliness specifically

I guess I did have Joe's dating timeline in my head at some point which is on brand because I've never actually been normal about him

Did he or did he not date Chelsea Kane (Stella on Jonas) because I saw some online speculation about it because they were hanging out a lot - fully can respect them being friends just wanna point out their onscreen chemistry was incredible so I wouldn't be surprised if it flowed into their personal life

Thank you for this run down

If anyone questions me calling Joe a whore ever again I'm gonna send them this post

#long post #long text post #text post