Finding Victoria Justice

Your phone's still dead and you don't know Victoria's code so once you're done eating you use Sydney's thumb to unlock her phone and call another Uber to meet up with Victoria. You change into one of the outfits you bought on Victoria's card, knock back two Tylenol, and meet the car outside.

"Uber for Sydney?" You ask as the car pulls up.

"Yeah, name's Casey." your driver says. She's a redheaded woman with dorky glasses and a brow piercing. She's wearing a white blouse that looks too formal to ride share in. She clicks a button and the car door opens for you to get inside. It's a nice white SUV. You kinda splurged because, hey, it's not your money. Casey must get some high-profile customers because she invested. In addition to how spacious it is, the seats seem to have custom upholstery, there's a light system that's currently off but seems to be for parties, surround sound speakers, a cooler, and a tablet mounted to the back of the console.

"Wow, this is nice."

"Thank you. I appreciate it," She says.

"My phone is dead, is there a charger or something?"

"Check right below the tablet." You do and lo and behold, you flip a cover and there are both outlet plugs and chargers of every kind sticking out of USB ports. This car really has everything. You plug your phone in and rest it on the console to charge. "So if you're waiting on that do you want to talk? Listen to music? Just plain silence? I'm good with all of them." You were about to suggest silence but honestly, your mind is racing so some tunes and a talk might be good.

"I want to check out this artist I never listen to, but I'd like to talk while I do so."

"Alright."

You click the Spotify icon and look up Halsey. You kinda ignored her but if she services a mic as well as she does a dick you might just have a new favorite artist. You just click the first on her top ten. Heck, this ability might actually be making you a fan. Is that secretly the point all along?

"Oh, is this Halsey? I went to a concert once because a... friend of mine likes them."

"Oh, yeah it is." You give a nervous smile. "I just met her actually." Your driver pulls to a stop at a red light and turns around.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, honest. That's why I wanted to try her music out. We met at a gala." Your driver turns back to the road as the light turns green.

"Well can you answer a question for me?" She makes eye contact with you through the rearview mirror.

"Sure."

"Does Halsey look as good in person as she does walking around like a nude slut in her videos?" You take a double take at her comment. You were looking out the window but fall forward in your seat as she finishes.

"Come again?" Her mouth opens in a silent gasp. She looks back and forth between you and the road like she did something wrong.

"Oh, um." She starts making a turn. "Well, like, she's just so pretty in the videos and I wondered if her dressing a bit classier changes anything. You've seen the pictures right? She went nude for a video and that was just so hot." You didn't know that. You minimize Spotify on the tablet and pull up a browser app. You search 'Halsey singer nude.' Son of a bitch. She did go nude. She's just as hot here as she is in person.

"Well, actually, I did see her nude."

"Okay, you're definitely shitting me now." Casey covers her mouth, realizing she cursed half a second too late.

"Definitely not shitting you." You scroll down the image results and see something else. Candids. Is that, no way? You click on one and yep. It's from a news article that seems to be from today. The headline reads "Songwriter Slut Halsey Spotted Nude And Covered In Gorgeous Cum Splatters. Possible New Look For Her?" You suppress a giggle. "I even got a blowjob from her."

"I straight up don't believe you. So that slut thing isn't just an act?"

"Nope."

"That's so hot. Oh my God, does that mean you saw her covered in cum? She must've looked so pretty."

"Let me see if I sent a photo of her to myself. Because she did look great." You pick up the device and hold the power button to turn it on. After a second you put in your pin and open your phone. Then it hits. A hundred pings as every notification since last night come in all at once. "Um, one sec." While you look through your notifications the only sound in the car is the Halsey music playing through the speakers. It's honestly not half bad, but not your style. Too much electronic crap. You start from the beginning. Some are just random social media apps telling you friends updated their stories or someone liked your post. But then something catches your eye. A Google news alert. India Reynolds? You don't even remember setting that up. This wasn't last night, must've been months ago. Maybe even years ago. You click the news story out of curiosity.

India Reynolds Makes Shocking Career Change Announcement. Model-Turned-Reality Star Returning To Page 3?

"Today British influencer India Reynolds shocked her fanbase when she held an unexpected Instagram live. The former model explained she did a lot of thinking and realized she neglected her loving followers and their needs. She thanked them all for their continued support and faith in her before reading a pre-written statement announcing she will be leaving the reality TV circuit and returning to her roots as a topless model."

The article went on to say that India seemed so torn up she cried at how much support her fans had given her despite her refusal to give them what they wanted. She apologized that she still had some stuff she filmed prior that was coming out and a show to film she couldn't back out of due to contracts, but she had already called her agent and booked a ton of nude photoshoots to make up for lost time. She mentioned "being less picky" like when she was younger. The article then grabbed some comments and they all seemed too, in a word, horny for print? You were shocked by the carefree way people talked about Reynolds' body.

"So glad she came to her senses! Here's hoping for some pussy shots now!"

"I'm sick of jilling myself to the same topless photos. New material seems great!"

"I never liked her reality TV persona. India's a pair of tits and I'm happy she accepts that."

"I'm in love with the old India, not this reality star bitch. I wanna see her tits again!"

"She always seemed like an out of place slut when around dignified people. I hope she does porn too."

"Way hotter girls get fucked for less. If she wants to stay relevant, she can't just do nudes. Spread those legs!"

You're honestly taken aback by how crass and objectifying they are. You look at the profile pictures and almost all of these accounts are women. They seem so emboldened to claim ownership over India. The language seems... familiar, but you can't place your finger on it. You close the article and open your messages.

Look at that, from an unknown number is a whole plethora of images. Some from when Halsey was fucking you, some of you and Sydney, some are Sydney on your cock while Halsey gobbles your balls. You swipe through until you get to what you're looking for. A close-up shot of Halsey fresh after you've cum. Even when blackout drunk you know your priorities. Drool and cum are spilling out her mouth, her makeup is ruined, and her hair's going in all different directions. Some strands are stuck to her face from sweat and other fluids and you didn't notice it back at the hotel room but some clumps are straight-up missing from her scalp. She has a trio of bold spots in her bottle-blonde hair. One in the center, towards the back, and two near the front. God, you were way too violent with her last night. Guess the 14-hour blowjob could've told you that.

You lean over the console to Casey. The car's too deep in traffic to move anytime soon so you're not worried about distracting her.

"Here you go." You show her the image.

"Awww. That's the cutest image I've ever seen." You give her a puzzled look. Cute? Hot, slutty, arousing, those worked. But cute? You go back to your seat and buckle up. Time to pick Casey's brain about something that's been bothering you.

"Um, question. Not to make this entire ride about my encounter with a star, but what do you think of Halsey? Like, as a singer and celebrity?" While Casey answers you start looking at your other notifications. Lots of them are friends tagging you in photos with half-dressed celebrities in public.

"Well, I like their music and used to really value them as like, a queer icon given how few of them are in mainstream music. Does that make sense?" Casey pauses for your response. You assume she doesn't always get the most accepting of patrons as a driver. She must think that a fan of Halsey probably isn't going to have a problem with her and her "friend."

"Oh, I didn't realize Halsey was gay," you say. "That's cool." Idiot. Who says that?

"Yeah, they're bi and non-binary. She/they. Anyways, I used to value that but then I just realized they're really only good as a cocksucker, you know?" You once again feel like you've been hit by a conversational equivalent of a truck. "Like, the music was fine when I was a kid but once I hit 18 I realized she was just a fuckdoll begging to be **** and she should be lucky producers bribe her with a record deal to get in her pants instead of just taking what they deserve from that cocktease."

Casey is completely nonchalant saying this. Her eyes are fully on the road and she has as much emotion in her voice as she would talking about her favorite ice cream flavor. You recognize the content of her words though. It's the same attitude those Instagram comments had about India Reynolds. It's you. You said the same shit about India to her face and that means you probably called Halsey a good-for-nothing cocksucker who only gets record deals so she'll spread her legs just to get her to blow you. Wait, does this mean?

You pull up the search app on your phone. You barely remember the girls you fucked last night but you remember two. The last two before you blacked out. "Maisie Williams Sophie Turner News." First result; from pinknews.com.

Sophie Turner and Joe Jonas Confirm Maisie Williams as a Third. Sophie Admits to Dating Both in Late-Night Gala Post.

Wow, they sent this off before you even left the party. You read the article. It embedded some fan reactions like the Reynolds article did but none are as vulgar. Instead, they all talk about how much more they like Sophie after this news dropped. You're no stranger to celebrities confirming their sexuality and fellow LGBTQ+ people clamoring for someone like them, but this is different. It's not that Sophie is bi that makes them like her more. It's Sophie being bi with Maisie. They all love Maisie and seem to like Sophie because they're together. That's what you told them last night, right? So now all their fans really believe that? No mention of wanting to jack off on both of them or desires to sodomize the Stark girls though. You need to see what causes what changes in fanbases before you do something drastic. Well, more drastic. You should see what else you've caused.

"So you realized this when you hit 18? Did anything else turn you off from being a fan of hers?"

"Oh, I'm still a huge fan. I guess I'm just a fan of Halsey the whore instead of Halsey the performer. Well, Halsey the musician. I guess spreading your legs for every guy with a dime and a pulse is itself a performance. My girlfriend is the same way. Halsey superfan and she can't just listen to her music. She has to watch a video and see that slut do her stripper routine. Heck, my sister. Straightest woman I know." Casey looks over her shoulder to you and makes a motion with her right hand, flat along an invisible line to signify how straight this sister is. "We got her into a couple singles and she went through the same journey. I think when Halsey fans grow up we realize we just like her for her ass, her tits, and her dick-sucking lips. But hey, fame is fame."

"So when she went nude for a video?"

"Their best look by far. Like, why do they even wear clothes at this point? Well, best look until today." She gestures to your phone. "Cum is just their color? Substance? Style? Point is, I can't imagine them wearing anything else but cum now. It's the only look for them I care about." You think back to what the headline said about Halsey nude in the street. "Gorgeous cum splatters." You remember telling Halsey they "looked best when you're a nude slut covered in cum." Everyone has different tastes so for an entire fandom to agree one look is the best it must be head and shoulders over even the closest runner-up. So you just made everyone think Halsey only looks good when she's nude and covered in semen? Oops. "Well, we're here." Casey pulls the car into park. You're in the parking lot of the gala venue from last night. It's much less glamorous in the daylight, askew metal dividers litter the front entrance and a cleaning van is still parked outside. "It's been fun John." Casey turns around one last time and clicks a button to open the door.

"Wait, I should send you this Halsey image as a memento. I just need your number to text it to you."

"Nice try, but I don't give my number out to passengers. Even for photos of celebrities." Well damn, guess you haven't seen a woman with principles in a minute. Wait, you want to try something real quick. That number that sent you the photos has to be Halsey's, right? That's why their phone was on the nightstand? Does your power work over text? You pull up the messages app and send something quick.

"Hey, it's John, your biggest fan. I just want to say, as a fan, I'd do anything for nude photos of you, doubly so if you're covered in cum in them."

Here goes nothing. You hit send. You look at Casey and she pauses for a millisecond. Then her expression changes.

"Uh, actually, I'd really love those photos." She pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear. "You're not a serial killer or anything. It'll be fine if I give you my number." She fans a limp wrist at you and then grabs a pen and paper from inside the console. She quickly writes something down on the paper, tears the section with the writing off, and hands it to you. "Only Halsey photos, okay?"

"Got it." You grab the paper, stuff it into your pocket and run out the car. You've made Victoria Justice wait for too long.

Author's note(s): Let it be known I actually enjoy Halsey's music. I'm Not A Woman, I'm A God is on my Jean Grey playlist and I've saved some other songs of hers. This changing of the perception of fans was always the intention. Like, ever since I read this branch years ago. If John's the "embodiment of fame" to these celebrities that means he has some influence on their fame, right? Ngl, I forgot we were in London until I re-read the start to see how exactly he described the party and how many days it's been. Didn't even notice when I re-read the India Reynolds chapter to see what her deal was. I just assumed she made the Atlantic jump. We'll move back to UK celebs soon. I also thought the teleportation and spider-sense powers were a one-off a later writer added and then forgot about? Nope, that's in the majority of chapters until I came along and made him ride share everywhere. Oops. He's hungover. It'll come back once he hydrates more.

I intended to get back to celebrities in this chapter but like, while I could add a new scene this is a good ending point. Would you guys rather have more inconsistent updates with multiple scenes or just these incremental installments (which will still be semi-inconsistent)? Also, I'd love a proofreader if anyone wants to do that. If not, general commentary or corrections in the comments is also appreciated.