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sunrisefairy · 3 years

Text

Cameras and crushes

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: Alcohol, small mention of death, pure fluffiness

Summary: Y/N is used to being a background character someone you glaze over but never really notice. But more recently she longed for someone to see her, well she longed for a certain redhead to see her.

A/N: Wrote this for @theweasleysredhair writing challenge based off the prompt “You remembered?” very proud of this fic so i hope you love it as much as i do. All feedback is welcomed :))))

italics represent a flashback

Taglist: send me a message if you would like to be added @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @klausdatprettyboi @georgeweasleyswhre

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Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. Growing up with 3 older and much louder brothers she was pretty happy with sticking to the sidelines, letting them be noisy and crazy while she kept to herself. Y/N grew up with mostly boys around her, her mother passed away when she was young. Y/N would always beg her brothers and her dad for stories of her mother, wanting to feel closer to her. Y/N’s dad would fondly retell memories of his beautiful wife, reminiscing on how witty and charismatic she was. He’d mention all the small, quirky things she would do which made him fall hard and fast for her. Y/N longed for that kind of love, she longed for someone to take notice of her in the way her dad did for her mum. Ever since Y/N was a little girl she yearned to be heard and seen but that proved difficult when you’re as shy and quiet as her.

Judging by most of the people in Y/N’s life she seemed to attract the boisterous types, guessing her quiet nature balanced them out. She loved her friends with her entire heart, even if their personalities were the opposite of hers, Y/N wouldn’t change their qualities if she could.

One of her friends, although still lively and vibrant as the others, also had a calm and tranquil side to him. George Weasley. Y/N had only known George for a few years having met at Lee Jordan’s 18th birthday 3 years ago. Somehow that night she had ended up climbing a tree with the tall redhead whom she had only met 30 minutes prior.

“How the hell did you get up to that branch?” Y/N mumbled, trying to figure out how to reach the higher branch where George Weasley was currently sitting, his long legs swinging back and forth as he chuckled at the girl below him.

“I used that branch sticking out there and then swung my leg up to get here.” George points to the branch to the girls left.

Y/N grunts as she attempts what George said but huffs and pouts her lip feeling defeated, “you forget that I have little legs, unlike you Mr. giraffe.”

George rolls his eyes and stretches his hand out, “try again, I’ll help pull you up.”

Somehow, George manages to pull Y/N up and they sit comfortably next to one another up high in the tree. “There you go little bunny, don’t go falling off now.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the nickname wishing she had brought her cider up with her feeling very self-conscious and unsure of what to do her shaking hands.

The pair fall into a comfortable silence, watching the party goers below them gathered around a very intoxicated birthday boy chanting as he chugs another beer, “we love to drink with Lee cause Lee is our mate and when we drink with Lee he gets it down in 8…7…”

Their voices drown out as George gently nudges Y/N’s shoulder pulling her attention back to him, “soo, Y/N I hear you’re not much of the talker?”

Y/N blushes hard grateful for the lack of light outside. “No I guess not. Not many are interested in what I have to say.”

George smiles, his eyes not leaving the girl beside him, “well I am. Tell me something.”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip nervously and looks back at the drunk crowd, “like what?”

George shrugs, he didn’t really mind what the conversation was about, he just wanted to hear the pretty girl speak. “I dunno, anything. Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

Y/N racks her brain for something to talk about, her palms getting sweaty from the long silence. Finally, she settles on something that always fills her with joy, her mother.

“Um okay so,” she starts staring at the leaves swaying in the tree, pushing down the anxiety. “Before my mother died she always had this film camera with her, my dad used to joke around saying that she loved this camera more than him,” Y/N chuckles quietly before continuing “She would take photos of the most random things, we have this big box back home filled with all the photos she ever took with that camera.” Y/N pauses, fumbling with her fingers. “I wish we still had the camera. You see after my mum passed, dad had to look after us 4 kids and with only one income coming in, it was pretty tough. For my 12th birthday I reeeaaally wanted a new bike, I’d complained for years that I couldn’t have my brothers old one because it was a gross boy’s bike. So, my dad sold my mums camera to get me a pink one. Kind of wish he didn’t because I would have loved to still have mum’s camera with us.”

Y/N finished and chewed her lip realising speaking about her dead mother probably wasn’t a great conversation piece, but any story of her mother always made her feel warm inside.

George hadn’t taken his eyes off her throughout the whole story, his heart fluttering when her eyes had lit up as she spoke about her mother.

“I’m sorry, probably not what you wanted to hear, it was the first thing that popped into my head.” Y/N mumbled.

George simply shook his head and replied, “you don’t ever have to apologise to me for saying what’s on your mind Y/N. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

For the first time in a while, Y/N felt seen.

Y/N’s phone dings and she pulls it from her pocket to read the message.

-Hey bunny :) so 4 tonight, we’re aiming to get to urs at like 7. does that work for u?

It was from George. Even if she didn’t have his number saved, she’d be able to tell it was from the redhead simply from his choice of nickname. Y/N hated when he called her bunny but George insisted on using the nickname ever since Lee’s 18th mainly because he thought it was cute not that he would tell her that.

Y/N’s heart thumped harder in her chest purely from the fact that George had texted her. Her crush on George had amplified over the years of knowing the boy, feeling both thankful and uneasy at the fact that he had so effortlessly slotted into their tight friendship group mainly because he was always around making Y/N a stuttering mess.

Y/N’s fingers fumble as she types out a response, it was her birthday today and all her friends we’re persistent in throwing her a party. They had agreed to a small gathering at Y/N’s place, Y/N didn’t want them to make such a fuss over it.

-Hey Georgie, 7 is perfect! Cant wait.

-See u then bunny, hope ur ready to get ur drink on ;)

-IDK, after the other weekend I dont think im ready to face alcohol again

-nope! no excuses from u, u only turn 21 once

Y/N chuckles at George’s message and goes back to tidying her house, ready for tonight.

~~~~

As soon as it hits 7pm her friends are barging through her front door lugging drinks.

Each of them greet Y/N giving her a hug and wishing her happy birthday.

“We’ll do presents later, first let’s get some drinks into us!” Angelina cheers as she starts to mix some deadly concoction. Alicia connects her phone to the speaker, the living room filling with music.

Y/N jumps as a voice pipes up from behind her, “happy birthday little bunny.”

She turns facing George as he places a brightly coloured wrapped box on the counter with the other presents. He opens his arms, engulfing her into a giant hug. Y/N wraps her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze, “thanks” she mumbles into his chest before pulling away looking up at his warm eyes. They stare at each other for a second before the moment is broken when Fred places something on Y/N’s head.

“A birthday tiara for the birthday girl” Fred states loudly, Y/N glances at the mirror hanging from the wall on her left sees a plastic silver and pink tiara perched upon her head.

“Oh god,” Y/N mumbles adjusting it slightly.

Lee shouts over the music, drawing everyone’s attention over to him. “Okay everyone, the ever lovely Angie has made us each a questionable looking but delicious drink to start the night. So get your butts over here and let’s get this party started!”

A few hours and many, many drinks later, everyone is huddled in the living room, sitting on the couches watching Y/N open her presents. So far, she had gotten some perfume from Angelina, chocolates and a gorgeous photo frame from Alicia and Fred and Lee had gifted Y/N with a bottle of wine and voucher from the little boutique at the corner of her street. Y/N’s cheeks were hurting from smiling so much and her heart swelled at the sweet gifts her friends had gotten her.

“Okay, only one left,” Alicia says, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Probably the best one,” Fred whispers to Lee.

“Of course it’s going to be the best one you idiot,” Angelina says as a matter of fact, overhearing the two boys.

George, who is sitting to Y/N’s right, hands over the brightly colour box, trying to hide his excitement and nerves. “Here you go Y/N, happy birthday.”

The box feels heavy in Y/N’s grasp as she places it in her lap tearing off the wrapping paper. Y/N glances around, noticing everyone’s eager eyes on her. She sees Angelina nudge Alicia’s side smiling at each other knowingly. Y/N furrow her brows, slightly confused then draws her attention back to the box. She ripped off the paper carefully and uncover a brown box, no hints as to what is inside.

“Oh my god, hurry up and open it the suspense is killing me!” Fred says impatiently, George whacks him across the head telling him to shut up.

Y/N take off the lid and immediately her mouth gapes open finally seeing what’s inside. She shakily lifts the film camera out of the box and hold it so gently as if it’s made of diamonds and gold.

Small tears prick in Y/N’s eyes, shocked and surprised at George’s gift, it looks exactly like the one her mother had.

She manages to squeak out a small, “you remembered?” referring to the first conversation they had 3 years prior.

George has a small smile etched onto his lips. “Of course I did, I remember everything you tell me. I take a lot of pride in knowing everything about you actually.” He says, puffing his chest out proudly.

“Yeah like what?” Y/N cradles the camera in her arms.

“Well,” George starts. “I know that you hate the smell tequila because it reminds you of your 18th when you spent most of the night by the toilet. I know that you can’t sleep if the room is dead quiet. I know that you love buying plants but can never seem to keep them alive. I know you never wear matching socks because you think it’s a fun way to spice up an outfit.” He finishes smugly.

Alicia and Angelina let out a small aww in the background reminding Y/N of the 4 other sets of eyes watching her and George right now.

“Well there’s one thing you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah? What’s that then?” George counters.

Y/N doesn’t know where she musters up the courage from to speak the next words, maybe from the alcohol buzzing through her body or finally being sick of keeping this to herself for the past 3 years. Whatever it may be, she’s rather proud of herself, ignoring the way her stomach churns.

“That I have a huge crush on you.”

She expected George to laugh in her face before rejecting her gently. What Y/N definitely didn’t expect was him to cradle her face in his large hands, pressing a sweet but passionate kiss to her pink lips. She squeaks in surprise before melting into the kiss, gripping onto his shirt tightly, scared he would slip away.

Much to Y/N’s dismay George pulls away from the kiss tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear, “no I knew that too.”

“Wha-how?” Y/N stutters.

The attention is pulled to Alicia as she begins to speak, “it wasn’t much of a secret babe. Everybody knew you were crushing on George. Can’t believe it took either one of you so long to do something about it.”

“Little Georgie here spent months trying to find that camera for you as a way to confess his undying love for you.” Fred reaches over and ruffles his twin’s hair who shoves him off.

“Yep, we were all so bloody excited for you to open his presents so you two can stop pining over each other.” Lee adds downing the rest of his drink then standing up. “Right, now the two love birds have finally confessed their feelings. Who’s up for a round of beer pong? Reigning champion here has yet to be defeated.”

“You’re on Jordan, that ego of yours has gotten large enough.” Fred challenges, everyone moving over to the table to set up for beer pong. Leaving Y/N and George alone on the couch.

George wraps his lanky arm around Y/N’s shoulder pulling her into his side, “I hope you’re enjoying your birthday bunny.”

Y/N grins widely, playing with her new camera before lifting it up and aiming it at George. “best birthday ever Georgie, thank you.” She squeezes the button down, snapping a picture of George who is staring at her like she’s the only person in the world.

Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. But for once she doesn’t mind being the centre of someone’s undivided attention.

#George weasley #George weasley one shot #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fluff #george weasley fan fic #Fred and george #george weasley imagine #twrh9kwritingchallenge

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twstarchives · 4 years

Note

Hello! There used to be a list about which characters have mentioned to have siblings/be only childs but I can't find it anymore ;; do you still have it or was I imagining it? If so, do you know what is there so far about each student's family life?

Riddle

Parents

Riddle lives with his mom, the status of his father is unknown. He has implied that his parents don’t get along.¹ Both parents are magic doctors, but his mother seems to be more well-known. To Riddle, she is extremely overbearing and planned out nearly every second of his life: controlled his education, his schedule, his diet, his clothing, the supplies he used, and which friends he could have. She put a heavy emphasis on studying and always being the best.²

1. Riddle Ghost Marriage voice lines 2. Main Story 1-19

Ace

Parents

Older brother

Grandmother

His brother is 7 years older than him and a Heartslabyul alumni.¹ He seems to have often messed around with Ace & make him angry on purpose, but it was all in good nature; they are very close. Apparently his brother was even more excited than their parents when they found out Ace got into NRC.² Ace has also mentioned his grandma a few times; she taught him about the Ghost Camera³ and warned him about magic blotting.⁴

1. Ace School Uniform PS 2. Ace Ceremony Robes voice lines 3. Main Story 0-19 4. Main Story 2-4

Deuce

Mother

Grandmother

He is an only child¹ and loves his mom very much. The entire reason he’s trying so hard to be an honors student is so that he can become a son she can be proud of. He once cried when she called him to tell him just that.²

The only time his grandma was mentioned was when he told a story of his mom crying to her on the phone, thinking she’d failed as a parent (during Deuce’s delinquent days).³

1. Jack Dorm Uniform PS 2. Wish Upon A Star 12 3. Main Story 1-13

Trey

Parents

Younger brother

Younger sister

His family runs a bakery. As the oldest child, he often had to take care of his little siblings (ie. ensuring they all brushed their teeth at night)¹. They all would pester him to bake them desserts,² but he cared for them a lot—one time his little brother really wanted to go to a live magift game so Trey spent his whole allowance to get him a ticket.³

1. Trey School Uniform PS 2. Ace School Uniform PS 3. Trey Wish Upon A Star voice lines

Cater

Parents

Two older sisters

Because of his dad’s work as a banker, their family had to move about once every two years, all over the world.¹ Cater hadn’t had any long-lasting friends because of this.

He has described his sisters as “unreasonable,” his dislikes in his profile are listed as “having to suck up to his sisters,” and when everyone was going home for winter holiday, he said he’d rather stay with Trey’s family.² In his voice lines, he mentioned that he can’t relate to Yuu feeling homesick because his sisters would just be waiting for him at home. His sisters rated everything by how cute it was, and if something “wasn’t cute” to them then Cater would have to redo it.³

They would get more excited about his birthday than he would, and buy him all kinds of presents he didn’t particularly like (such as stuffed animals, dolls, perfumes, soaps, etc). But they weren’t trying to be intentionally mean, and recently have started paying attention to what he really wants.⁴

When he was about 10 years old, his mom and sisters were always baking sweets. Cater was excited about this at first because it meant he could get lots of treats, but his sisters would make him eat everything. If he refused, they’d look so disheartened, and Cater couldn’t say no to that, so he kept forcing himself to eat. Because of this, he now hates sweets.⁴

1. Cater Scary Dress PS 2. Main Story 4-3 3. Cater Lab Coat PS 4. Cater Birthday PS

Leona

Falena (older brother)

Cheka (nephew)

Sister-in-law

Leona is a member of Afterglow Savannah’s royal family. His brother and his sister-in-law are the current rulers, and Cheka is next in line to the throne. Leona has constantly felt inferior and bitter that he and Falena are treated so differently based off nothing but birth order.¹ But he greatly respects his sister-in-law; she’s one of the only people he would never talk back to.² Cheka is very affectionate and clingy towards him.

1. Main Story 2-27 2. Ruggie’s Chat w/ Jack

Jack

Parents

Younger brother

Younger sister

Grandparents

Jack is the oldest in his family with an 11yo brother and a 7yo sister. He and his siblings are all very athletic; they used to play tag with each other for 6 hours on end.¹ Jack has said that wolf beastmen pick one soulmate to spend their whole life with, and his parents + grandparents are always at each others’ side, when they wake up, go on walks, eat, and go to sleep.²

1. Jack Happy Beans Day PS 2. Ace Ghost Marriage PS

Ruggie

Mother (deceased)

Father (unknown)

Grandmother

Ruggie's mother "became a star up in the sky" shortly after giving birth to him. His father went away for work and never came back, and to this day Ruggie doesn't know what happened to him.¹

He lives with his grandma in the slums of Afterglow Savannah. They were poor and struggled to find food to eat, but his grandma could make delicious food out of any ingredients they could find. Ruggie learned to cook from her.² He described her as very kind but also tough.

Ruggie seemed to have taken care of the other kids in the neighborhood too-- when everyone went home over winter break, he brought home leftovers from the cafeteria to feed his grandma and the kids.³

1. Ruggie Birthday PS 2. Ruggie School Uniform PS 3. Main Story 4-3

Azul

Mother

Stepfather

Grandmother

His mom fell in love with her divorce lawyer while separating from Azul’s biological father. She’s also the owner of the Ashengrottoes’ famous ristorante in the Coral Sea.¹ Because of their business, Azul grew up a foodie and was exposed to a lot of different foods from a young age.²

His stepfather is kind and honest, and very clever when it comes to his work. Azul respects him and they seem to have a good relationship. He taught him about law and contracts.¹

Everyone in the Ashengrotto family is a mage, but Azul’s grandmother is said to be especially powerful. She was known for helping those in need, and very “merciful,” just like Azul.¹

1. Azul Birthday PS 2. Azul Dorm Uniform PS

Jade & Floyd

Parents

Their parents started teaching them self-defense since they were little.¹ We don’t know many details of their childhood, but there was an interesting exchange between them—Jade once said “he made the right choice choosing Floyd as his partner,” and Floyd replied that “he’s glad Jade is the one that survived with him, too.”²

In Floyd’s Wish story, he brought up how their father told him to buy a nice pair of shoes when he went on land because “men who don’t pay attention to the small details get patronized” so your appearance is very important. Hearing this gave Idia and Ortho an uneasy feeling about Mr. Leech.

1. Jade PE Uniform voice lines 2. Floyd Dorm Uniform PS

Kalim

Parents

30-40 younger siblings

Kalim’s father comes from a long line of merchants and is supposedly the greatest one in the family. But despite how busy he is, he’s always wearing a smile. Kalim’s mother is the only one in the family who can use magic. She’s described as very kind, is always praising Kalim, and almost never gets angry.¹

Kalim doesn’t know the exact number of siblings he has, but he can put names to faces for all of them, and he often plays hide and seek with them in their house. He doesn’t come from a royal family (they’re just extremely rich), but some of his distant relatives are actual royalty.² One of his distant cousins apparently owns a tiger.³ His family has about 100 servants along with specialists like a personal doctor⁴ and a beast tamer.

1. Kalim Birthday PS 2. Main Story 4-8 3. Silver Lab Coat PS 4. Main Story 4-17

Jamil

Parents

Najma (younger sister)

His family has served the Asims for generations. His parents knew Jamil was a very bright child, but they insisted that he must always let Kalim be better than him, and would reprimand him for talking too casually to his young master.¹ Jamil seems to share a typical sibling relationship with his sister Najma. They often bicker with each other, but they’re on good terms. Najma used to bake him cookies for his birthday² and they would also get into fights because she’d tell him his cooking looked too plain.³ Jamil gave his VDC plus-one ticket to her during Episode 5.

Najma made her first in-game appearance during the Aleab Naria event. Their father had sent her to deliver a message in-person to Jamil, since he isn’t versed in technology likes PCs and phones and didn’t trust that a text would suffice.⁴

Najma claims that she and Jamil look nothing alike, but they tend to make near-identical expressions. She was relieved to see that he has a few friends at NRC because he never talks about them whenever he comes home.⁴ In one scene, Jamil reminds her to wipe her hands before eating and gives her a wet wipe, and she huffs at him to not treat her like a child. Trey notes how well Jamil looks after her, but Cater thinks he is a little bit overprotective.

1. Main Story 4-36 2. Jamil Birthday PS 3. Jamil Dorm Uniform PS 4. Aleab Naria 3-4, 3-5, 3-7

Vil

Eric (father)

Vil’s father is an extremely famous actor and goes by the stage name Eric Venue. Even the Leeches’ father is a fan of some of his movies.¹ Vil has mentioned that his dad would come home dressed in special effects makeup & costumes every Halloween,² and also used to read him stories about the Beautiful Queen.³

1. Vil Scary Dress PS 2. Vil Scary Dress voice lines 3. Scary Monsters 3-2

Epel

Parents

Grandparents

Aunt & Uncle (uncle is biological)

Male Cousin

Epel’s family lives on an apple farm that’s been around for generations. They all live in the same house. His village is also made up of farmers, and they often help each other out during the busy season and have big barbecues together. It feels like they’re one big family.¹

His relatives often send him apples from home since they have such an abundance of them. They seem to have some business struggles; Epel taught himself how to beautifully carve apples when he was young because many were blemished and wouldn’t otherwise sell.² He has also mentioned wanting to make a potion that strengthens weak apple trees to make his grandpa happy.³

Besides Epel, his grandma and great-grandma are the only ones in the family who can use magic.⁴ They ride brooms to pick apples that are too high to reach on foot. Epel wanted to help them when he was little so everyday he would get on a broom and try hopping up and down, and then one day it worked! Ever since then he’s helped with that task as well.

1. Epel Birthday PS 2. Epel School Uniform PS 3. Epel Lab Coat voice lines 4. Epel Ceremony Robes voice lines / Birthday PS

Idia & Ortho

???

The Shrouds are a noble family and famous for some reason, but Idia has said that being from a noble family isn’t all that great.¹ When he was worrying about being seen at the entrance ceremony, he expected people might gossip about how he’s from “the cursed Shroud family,” and that he’ll “spread misfortune to them.”² At another time, he mentioned that the audience would be apprehensive about what kind of “weird research” he did if he had to present his research on stage.³

1. Idia PE Uniform PS 2. Idia Ceremony Robes PS 3. Main Story 5-3

Lilia, Malleus, Silver

Malleus’ grandmother

Lilia was one of the Queen of the Valley of Thorns’ most trusted soldiers when he used to fight for the royal family.¹ In Cater’s Lab Coat story, they created mandrakes that reflected parts of themselves, and Lilia’s was said to “carry the cry of a tragic hero.”

He has watched over Malleus “ever since he had an eggshell over his head.” An infant Malleus once singed Lilia’s bangs by breathing fire and Lilia was so proud that he raised a glass of tomato juice to him.²

Malleus is the heir to the Valley of Thorns, a descendant of the king “who rules over all creatures of the night,” and his only living relative is his grandmother, the current Queen of the Valley. He spent much of his childhood alone in the castle. He used this time to learn how to play all kinds of stringed instruments. His grandmother is so busy that she shouldn’t even have spare time to write him letters, but every year on his birthday, she sends him one without fail, along with rose seeds from the garden by their castle.³

Long after Malleus had grown up, both he and Lilia took in baby Silver for an unknown reason. Silver thought he was his biological dad when he was little, and continues to refer to him as “Father.” They lived deep in the forest in the Valley of Thorns before coming to NRC. Apparently Silver was very easy to take care of; he would fall right to sleep after eating Lilia’s homemade food.⁴

At one point, Sebek also became one of Lilia’s pupils. He and Silver are the only two from their generation living in the Valley.⁵ When they were little, Lilia would have them undergo training like soldiers, but then he realized he should raise them more like kids, and started making their training more fun. He had them play tag in forests crawling with beasts, hide and seek in vast deserts, and “the floor is lava” in the mountains of needles.⁶

1. Silver Ceremony Robes 2. Lilia PE Uniform PS 3. Malleus Birthday PS 4. Lilia Lab Coat voice lines 5. Sebek School Uniform voice lines 6. Lilia Birthday PS

Sebek

Parents

Older brother

Older sister

Grandfather

Sebek’s mother is a nocturnal faerie and his father is a human who works as a dentist. They met when his mother had an appointment at his clinic. She was immediately charmed and courted him despite her surroundings being against her marrying a human. Now, she works at the clinic as his assistant.¹

Sebek greatly respects his mother and raves about how she’s extremely gifted with magic and has a strong sense of justice. His opinion of his dad, on the other hand, is much different—his dad seems very loving and often showers his children in praises, sweets, and gifts, but it drives Sebek crazy. He doesn’t understand how his mother saw any appeal in him.¹

Since his parents were often busy with their clinic, Sebek spent his childhood running off to visit his grandpa, or fishing and playing in the water with his siblings. Based on the fact that Sebek and Silver were said to be the only ones in their generation living in the Valley,² his siblings are most likely considerably older than him.

All we know about his grandpa is that Malleus also knew him, and mentioned that Sebek shares his hot-blooded temper.³

1. Sebek Birthday PS 2. Sebek School Uniform voice lines 3. Scary Monsters event story

No current info: Rook

Last updated: July 27, 2021

#twst notes #misc lists

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songbirdsingingthings · 3 years

Text

Traditions - Shouto Todoroki x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO KOHEI HORIKOSHI

DAY THREE OF 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST - MAIN MASTERLIST

What were you supposed to get the boy who could have anything he wanted? That was the question that had been plaguing your mind for the entirety of November and now December. Shouto Todoroki, your loving and caring boyfriend, was the hardest person you had ever shopped for in your life. Even Momo was easier to shop for - she actually really liked homemade baked goods since when she’s training she has to eat a ton of processed stuff. You were currently at the mall, picking up things for the rest of your friends with Shouto, while also trying to scope out what interests him in certain stores.

“So who’s next?” He asks as you scroll through the list on your phone.

“Hmm… I think Midoriya.” You respond, looking around to see all of the stores surrounding you. A certain one grasps your attention with the bright yellow, blue, and red colors. Shouto follows your gaze and he gives you a small smile as it lands on the huge All Might themed store.

“Well you're definitely gonna find something in there.” He chuckles, gently tugging your hand as the two of you walk towards the door.

You had finally left the mall with several bags being carried by the both of you, but you still had no clue what to get for your boyfriend. After Shouto dropped off the bags in your door and gave you a quick kiss goodbye - he apparently had some important business to attend to - you decided enough was enough. You scroll through the contacts on your phone to find Fuyumi, Shouto’s older sister, and press the call button. You’re only able to hold it to your ear for a few seconds before she answers.

“Y/N! How are you?” Fuyumi’s sweet voice filtered through your phone.

“I’m good, how are you?” You ask politely, making your way to sit down on your bed.

“Fine, just doing some stuff around the house. I’m glad you called though, I haven’t been able to talk with you for a while.” You heard some clinks and clatters in the background and quickly assumed she was doing the dishes.

“Oh, no problem! I actually have a question if you’re not too busy.” You say, letting your shoulder press your phone to your ear so you could start taking all of your purchases out of their bags.

“I’ve got time, shoot away!” She says cheerily, causing a smile to grace your face.

“It’s about Shouto-”

“What about Shouto?” A deep but happy voice piped up through your phone.

“Hi Natsuo!” You greet, smoothing the blouse you got for Ochaco out.

“Hey kiddo! What’s up?” You could almost feel his wide grin radiating through your screen.

“Was asking Fuyumi a question, but you can answer it as well. I wanted to know what kind of stuff you and Shouto did when you were younger around the holidays to get an idea of what he likes to do. I was trying to find something to get him for Christmas, but I feel like if he wanted anything he would have already gotten it, so I want to do something with him.”

“Uhmm…” You hear both of them exchange awkward words, so you pipe up instead.

“I mean my brother and I would have gingerbread house competitions, go ice skating, and have movie marathons, but I don’t really know if that’s something Shouto would be into .” You say, opening the last of your bags which contained a snow globe with a polar bear cub in it for Koda.

“Y/N, uh… Shouto’s never really done any of that before.” Natsuo says. You frown a bit, but shake your head.

“Oh - is there anything your family does especially for the holidays? I mean I know your dynamic is a bit… different than others, but I’m sure you found a way to celebrate...right?” You asked warily.

“That’s a really sweet thought but umm… Dad didn’t really let us mingle, so he’s never experienced any usual holiday activities. I mean he celebrated with us, don’t get me wrong, but we never really got to do fun things as siblings.” Your jaw drops. You remember playing with your brother in the snow being one of the happiest memories during the holidays and you can’t believe Endeavor didn’t grant Shouto that. All of a sudden, a lightbulb seemed to come to life above your head and a grin replaced your frown.

“Thank you! Thank you so much for telling me, I know what to do!” You exclaim, clasping your hands together. You bid adieu to your boyfriend’s siblings and immediately start planning.

“Y/N, I don’t understand what’s going on. Why did you call me out here?” All bundled up in a puffy jacket that made him look even cuter than ever, snow pants, and a pompom beanie. Shouto looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“We are going to have the best day ever.” You state, grabbing his gloved hands in yours. “We’re going to make a snowman, then we’re gonna bake some cookies, maybe make some hot cocoa, and watch some Christmas movies.”

“W-what?” He manages, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Merry Christmas! I was trying to think of something to get you, but I kept coming up with blanks. So, I figured we should celebrate our first Christmas together by implementing some solid traditions.” You saw his shocked expression turn into one of somewhat embarrassment as he looked to the side.

“Y/N, your idea sounds great, but I’ve never done those activities before. What happens if I mess them up?” Concern flickers across his eyes, but you give him a reassuring smile and cup his cheek with your mittened hand.

“It’s perfectly fine if you ‘mess them up’, even though I’m sure you won’t. These activities are specifically designed to be fun, stress free things to do, okay?” Shouto nods and gives you a small smile. You give him a quick kiss and your day of fun begins.

Building a snowman was certainly a feat. You had to teach Shouto how to roll the snow to create bigger bases than the average snowball, which completely enthralled him. It was cute to see him so excited about how the snow managed to get that big, and he even put a little spin on the snowman, creating a “frozen pond” right next to him and an ice fishing rod so that he could go fishing.

Next was the cookies. Even though he really hadn’t cooked that much in his life, like many things, your boyfriend picked it up quite quickly. The two of you would perform a quiet dance in the kitchen, dropping two sticks of butter in one bowl and pouring a cup of sugar in another. What Shouto didn’t know, however, was flour’s tendency to create a mini explosion. His face when it poofed up in his face was priceless. You laughed so hard your stomach hurt which only made Shouto take some more flour and throw it on you so you were matching.

Finally, you made it to the end of the day. Both of you were cuddled up on your bed in your dorm watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Your back was pressed up against his chest and his arms were around yours, his left hand drawing soft lines on your skin, heat following his finger tips. You were so happy. Shouto really looked just ecstatic for the entire day, enjoying every activity you came up and even adding his own personal spin to them. You were so engrossed in those happy memories from earlier in the day that you didn’t hear Shouto say your name.

“Y/N,” he says in a velvety voice, shaking you a little to gain your attention.

“Hmm?” You hum in response, telling him that you were listening.

“I have something for you.” You turn around to look at him and you gasp with delight. In his hands dangled the daintiest little locket you had ever seen. It was a pretty silver oval with the tiniest little hinge on its side.

“May I?” You ask, motioning to open it. He gives you a soft smile and nods. You open it very carefully and you melt at what you see inside. It was your initials next to his with a heart outline.

“I know you don’t like obvious jewelry so I didn’t go for the heart locket, but I still wanted to get the meaning across. Do you like-” You cut him off with a searing kiss. You cup both of his cheeks in your hands and press him close to you.

“I love it, Sho. Thank you so, so much.” He grins at you and opens the clasp.

“Do you want me to put it on for you?” He asks. You nod quickly and turn your head back around. His hand sweeps your hair to one side and swings the necklace around your neck so that the clasp was in the back. His fingers danced lightly across the back of your neck, sending a tingle down your spine. He closes the little clasp and smooths it out. You reach up to touch the little locket and smile, turning back around to look at him.

“To new traditions,” you toast, arms wrapping around his neck.

“To new traditions.”

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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-You Broke Me First- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

A/N: This image is based around the song You broke me first by Tate Mcrae this image with have two endings: angst and fluff

Summary: Draco cheated on you months ago with another Slytherin and you broke it off without second thought (as you should) but Draco wants you back

Warning: cheater Draco, yelling, cursing maybe?

House: Hufflepuff

♡~🐍~♡

It had been months since you last spoke to Draco Malfoy. He used to be the person you loved and thought loved you too. You were surprised that he gave you the time of day, but with some chatting and a bit of flirting you fell for him hard. The day he asked you out would forever be a cherished memory. You were sitting alone on the courtyard when he came up to you with white roses. You’d never forget the nervous look he had until you said yes.

Being official was the best part. He would show everyone your his with sweet kisses or a arm around you. No guy dared to get close to you and you kinda liked not having guys flirt with you anymore. On one of your anniversaries he bought you a necklace. It was a simple silver chain with a beautiful emerald in the middle. It was small and shaped like a teardrop. It had you and Draco’s name on the back of it. You adored it, you still adore it.

When seventh year rolled around Draco started to become distant, push himself away from you or shut you out, leaving you confused and hurt. He wouldn’t sit or talk to you. At one point you thought it was something you had done, but it wasn’t it was never your fault. It was a late night and Blaise invited you too a Slytherin party, Draco wouldn’t give you the time of day anymore.

Blaise told you that it was Draco who wanted you to come, it made your heart flutter in hope that he still cared about you. When you showed up Draco was nowhere to be found. Thats until a girl came out of one of the boys dorms screaming about how she claimed the Slytherin prince. She had hickeys scattered across her neck and was fixing her shirt, your heart dropped as soon as you saw your boyfriend walking out behind her, with his black button up undone and messy hair.

As soon as your eyes met he looked saddened, but looked away right after. Had your meant nothing to him anymore? Tears blurred your vision as you ran off. Blaise calling your name behind you, but you didn’t look back. There was nothing to look back to.

♡~🐍~♡

A week later Blaise had apologized for Draco’s actions and said he’d always be there for you if you needed it. You told him thanks, but he rarely ever talked to you after that either. You didn’t blame him. You wanted to be alone anyway. Draco made no attempt to speak to you. One day, you had gathered his things that he had left at your dorm room in a box. It contained his quidditch jumper, the notes he wrote you during class that you had kept and one of his many silver rings. He would put one on you and say one day you would be Mrs. Malfoy. What a cruel joke.

You walked over to the Slytherin table during breakfast one morning and tapped Blaise’s shoulder he turned to look at you and gave you a smile. He took in the bags under your eyes, that were also puffy and red due to lack of sleep and crying. You gave him a half smile and handed him the box. After that you got up and left the great hall entirely.

♡~🐍~♡

Back to the present. It would have been your fifth anniversary today, why you still kept count? You didn’t know, but it was stupid. Hogwarts was destroyed after the wizard war and it took awhile for it to be put back together, but it happened. You went back to Hogwarts for your 8th year. You were in the program for students who wanted to retake &th year because of the war. You made friends with Hermione, she was pretty sweet.

One day you were walking around the halls when you bumped into someone “Im so sorry i didn’t-” your words were cut off when you came face to face with the man who broke your heart, with the man you were still unfortunately in love with. Draco Malfoy, why did he have to be the one you ran into on your what would have been anniversary “Malfoy, i’m sorry for bumping into you” you said politely before continuing to walk.

“I’m sorry” you heard him shout from behind you making you stop in your tracks “I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me, i’m sorry that i cheated on you, it breaks me to this day and i’d do anything to fix it” your jaw clenched. He was broken? he had no fucking right to say that. You spun on your heels and walked right up to him

“You broke me first, Malfoy” she seethed in anger. He looked shocked. You had never once raised your voice at him and he had never seen you anger. You were kind and sweet. Your were his little Hufflepuff girlfriend. You were his everything. You were enraged, your E/C eyes bore into him. He looked around before grabbing your hand. He pulled you both into a empty classroom.

‘Maybe you don't like talking too much about yourself’

You didn’t care, you needed all this anger out and he was going to listen and shut up “Y/N listen. I didn’t tell you a lot of things when we were dating, but i want to now” he said and stepped closer to you, but you just backed away “But you shoulda told me that you were thinkin' 'bout someone else” your voice cracked slightly. You were going to be a bit emotional about this and you had every reason to be. Draco felt a pang in his chest as you spoke to him. THe hurt coming off of your voice was enough to make him cry.

‘You're drunk at a party or maybe it's just that your car broke down Your phone's been off for a couple months, so you're calling me now’

“Y/N i’m so sorry. Just let me explain so we can fix this. I want you back in my life. You were supposed to be Mrs. Malfoy remember?” he pleaded and went to grab your hand, but you pulled it away. He couldn’t just say sorry and everything would be okay. That’s not how this works. You turned your head away from him “I know you, you're like this. When shit don't go your way you needed me to fix it. And like me, I did. But I ran out of every reason”

Draco listened to you speak, a lump forming in his throat. “Now suddenly you're asking for it back?!” you exclaimed and pushed him away. He stumbled back a bit “Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve?” and pushed him again. Tears ran down your face “Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had. But I don't really care how bad it hurts. When you broke me first” you choked out and pushed him one last time.

‘You broke me first’

You were in a full mania and back away, you laughed and wiped your tears from your face with the back of your hand roughly. You sat on top of a desk “Took a while, was in denial when I first heard, That you moved on quicker than I could've ever, you know that hurt” she swung her legs as she spoke remembering two weeks after you broke up he went out with Pansy Parkinson, you heard they broke up after his dad was sent to Azkaban.

“Swear for a while I would stare at my phone necklace just to see your name. But now that it's there, I don't really know what to say” you shrugged half heartedly as your hand fiddles with the necklace he gave around your neck, you never took it off, you just couldn’t. Draco looked at the necklace remembering when he bought it for you. It was a happy memory for him

(the rest of the song isn’t needed so bleh)

♡~🐍~♡

Angst Ending:

You got off the desk and looked one last time at Draco who had tear tracks down his face, you reached behind your neck and unclipped the necklace. You dropped it into your palm and sighed. You finally had closure and got to say what you had wanted to. You walked up to him and grabbed his hand. He looked hopeful for a second before you placed the necklace into his hand and closed it.

“Please don’t do this” he whispered, more tears falling down. You shook your head and looked away, letting go of his hand “Goodbye Draco Malfoy, i wish you the best” you spoke politely, which broke his heart. You pushed open the classroom door and walked out. You walked down the hallway a heavy feeling being lifted off your chest.

After that you felt free and happy without Draco, he still gave you sad glances sometimes, but with Hermione by your side she helped you with it and soon Draco Malfoy was a faded memory and you were stronger than ever.

♡~🐍~♡

Happy Ending:

Draco walked over to you and you turned your gaze away quickly. He leaned in and you tried your hardest to not to look “My father forced me to become a death eater” he said making you gasp. He rolled up his sleeve to show you his dark mark and you covered your mouth with your hand. “He told me that people around me would be my weakness and darling. You are my weakness, because your the person i love the most”

You felt your heartbeat quicken. He still had that effect on you “I needed to get you to leave me, but i couldn’t break up with you. You would know i was lying. You always know when im lying” he laughed quietly “So i invited you to that party so you could see. Paid some girl to pretend to have slept with me. I’ll never forget the look on your face when you saw me” He looked away as you processed the information.

“What about that hickeys?” you asked, like it was the important part in that sentence, which it wasn’t “Blaise” “Blaise knew about this to?” Draco nods “He was a death eater to, after you left i was to be engaged to Pansy” he groaned. He never really liked Pansy, she was too clingy for him. “When my father was sent away i broke it off and came back here to find you” he spoke softly as he cupped your face with one of his hands “Your the only person i would ever want to be Mrs. Malfoy” he smiles.

You crack a smile and lean into his hand, you missed his touch so much. “Will you be mine again Y/N?” he asked, worry behind his tone. If you’d say no he would be broken inside, but he would accept it and leave you alone for the rest of your life. You pulled his hand away and scooted up on the desk, bending your knees and launching yourself at him. You wrapped your arms and legs around the Slytherin boy. Draco stumbled back before wrapping his arms around you tightly “I’ll take that as a yes?” “Yes! You idiot! Don’t you ever do that again Draco Malfoy!”

“I won’t Y/N Malfoy”

♡~🐍~♡

A/N: This one lowkey broke my heart guys, like what in the fuck. Why did i write this? Anyway, if you have a request for Draco send it my way.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #angst #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #harry potter #potterhead #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x fem!reader #x female reader #blaise zabini #slytherin

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orange-waterfalls · 4 years

Text

Reader w/ wings headcanons(Markiplier Alter Egos)

ty @fancybootm for the request!

A/N: i just did all of them. every-all-everyone. Except Yandereplier, Silver Shepard, Ed Edgar... maybe others I’m not aware of at the moment... I tried to stick with a certain number of egos, but my hands just... they just kept moving. It is 11:00 pm when im writing this ya boy is TIRED. there are 1.6k words. It seems longer than it is bc bullet points. Bear with me. You can find the egos that you want easily. The reader is gender neutral. i am so sorry if this is not what you meant lol. on the bright side this is a good reference for all the egos i am open to writing for(also maybe others idk) so uh im keeping it enjoy. I’ll say... a T rating for cursing and also a bit of violence but literally like 20 words. mentions of injury. that’s it.

Requests are open!

Y/N(reader) with wings hcs

No one knows what the fuck you are, not even you

Ya got wings. That’s it.

Are you an angel? A faery? A phoenix? Who knows

You woke up one day in a forest remembering nothing

But you had wings

And then you got shot with an arrow

You ran away and hid in a cave

Darkiplier spends most of his time around you studying you

To see what you could possibly be

He still doesn’t know

He’s settled for calling you a “cryptid”

He’s slightly annoyed with the feathers you leave around the manor

He won’t tell you bc you can’t control that and it’d be rude

You read together in his study on occasion

You sit on the floor bc your wings get uncomfortable in chairs

In sympathy, he also sits on the floor

You think it’s sweet

You told him so and he sputtered out a “shut up and read your book”

He’s fairly fond of you

You’re good company to keep around

Wilford was the one who found you

He was walking through the forest, as one does, when he saw GIANT feathers

Naturally, he followed them

He found you in a cave with an arrow in your shoulder

He took you back to the manor and patched you up

He begged Dark to keep you there

He promised not to kill anybody for a month

He made it 15 days, which is a record

He’s very protective of you, not letting you out a lot since uh… hunters

You are his Sweet Little Songbird, light of his life, wind in his sails,

if anything happens to you he will kill everyone in the manor and then himself

He helps you preen a lot

His hands are very gentle, surprisingly

He spends the most time with you out of everyone

You play games, talk(well, he talks to you), and just hang out

He loves and adores you with his whole heart

Actor tolerates you, or so he says

He’s jealous of your wings

HE’S supposed to be the mysterious, sexy one!

But ok, yeah, you’re pretty interesting

He uses you in short films sometimes bc… well… wings

There are alot of things you can do with wings, surprisingly

He took you out into town one night

He shoved the wings under a thick jacket

You guys bought some clothes and food

He cut holes in the clothes for your wings, grumbling about a “waste of money” and “you never go out anyway”

but he enjoyed spending a bit of time with you

Wilford nearly killed him(again) when he found out

He likes venting to you bc you just nod without really listening

As I said, you’re good company

Yancy thinks you’re nice

He felt a bit… threatened at first

Ya got WINGS, of course he’s cautious

But they are very pretty

And he likes to use you in choreography

People always comment on how realistic the wings are as Yancy leads you away

You don’t judge him for killing his parents, he likes that about you

You don’t know. You could’ve done something bad. You don’t remember

He likes cuddling bc you wrap your wings around him and he feels safe

He also helps you preen… sometimes…

He’s… really bad at it...

You like listening to him sing

He sings you lullabies at night

You’re very close

Illinois is very fascinated with you

He’s convinced you’re a fairy

He’s seen quite a few of those

You tell him you don’t know, and he goes “a LiKeLy StOrY”

He likes drawing you

You’re very angelic

“Oh, maybe an angel then…” He says, like an idiot

He takes you with him on a few adventures to fly him over pits and stuff

He’d never admit it but he has a… THING about heights

It’s called a phobia, you egotistic maniac

You try to help him with it

You never get that far off the ground before he’s screaming to be put down

He appreciates the effort

He gives you things he finds on adventures that are pretty or remind him of you

He infodumps to you about curses, and archaeology, and adventuring, etc.

Magnum is uh… well, he’s Magnum

He figures you’d be useful out at sea

You can find nearby land, ships, or treasure by flying, of course

He didn’t take into account the fact that you don’t really… fly that often.

So it turned into you just stretching your wings instead of looking for loot

Once you fell overboard

Everyone was like “eh, they can fly, it’s fine”

Then they realized that you probably can’t since your wings might be wet

Magnum LEAPED into the fuckin water and THREW you back on

He doesn’t take you on the sea as much anymore

sometimes you talk about life, treasure, love, y'know the usual

He’s very Father Figure-ly

Bim isn’t sure how to feel about you

You are a person. With wings. What’s he supposed to do about that

He’s friends with Wil, so has to tolerate you at least.

He tries to make conversation, but it doesn’t always go as well as it could

You don’t have much to talk about, and some of his topics worry you

Mostly you two just kinda… exist in the same general area

Sometimes he’ll discuss what he should do on his show

You don’t have many ideas

But you’ve gotten an idea of what it is, and sometimes give a suggestion or two

He appreciates you for that

He tried to get you on the show once but Wilford refused

You kinda wanted to, but whatever

You’ll hang out sometimes too

He’s very entertaining, he has to be

Eric is kind of scared

Not that you’ll hurt him, that he’ll hurt you

That happens a lot to people he likes…

He eventually starts hanging out around you

You don’t ask bad questions, and you distract him from his dad

He talks about animals with you a lot, and how he wanted a farm

You bought a cowboy hat and gave it to him and he cried

You also gave him a stuffed cow one day

He hugged you for a long time

You two cuddle a lot bc the boy needs SAFETY and SECURITY

You wuv each other(platonically or otherwise)

Dr. Iplier doesn’t bother you, mostly

He appreciates that you keep to yourself

He has his work, that’s what he’s focused on

Sometimes he’ll see you when you try to find Wilford or get some food

He tries to get a good look at you without looking suspicious

It doesn’t work, he always falls over

He once gave you a “physical”

It was mostly to just figure out what you were

You seemed mostly human based on the results

But goddammit you had WINGS

They had their own function but were sort of like an add-on to your body

He was slightly disappointed you weren’t gonna… turn into a whole bird

You tolerate each other

Google fuckin’ hates you

He’s completely perplexed by you

Which he is never because he is the most intelligent being on the planet

So he assumed he could figure out what you were

Turns out google fucking sucks at figuring out things people don’t already know

So he hates you. Like a lot

He’s tried to kill you multiple times

But his objective is to destroy MANKIND

You are not included in that

BECAUSE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE!!!

Also Wilford almost killed him for it

So yeah he just kinda hates you

You’ve tried to get along with him but he just wouldn’t

He finally talked to you when Bing called him a little bitch

Still hates you, but can tolerate your existence now

Bing fuckin’ adores you

You are just wonderful to him

You can FLY??!! You have WINGS???!!!!!

You don’t really care that he is an artificial BEING????!!!!!!!!

You’re perfect

He does Sick Tricks™ to try to impress you

They never do

You appreciate the effort

You don’t see him a lot, but when you to it’s very entertaining

He taught you how to skateboard

You kinda sucked but he’s very supportive

He likes just hanging around you

It’s the only time he ever chills the fuck out

Everyone’s thankful to you for that

Your entire dynamic is “what if... i put... my minecraft bed... next to yours? haha just kidding... unless?”

The Host doesn’t really care about the wings??

I mean, he can’t see them, so… what’s the big deal

You appreciate that

He still does the uh… narration thing… with real people…

The stories end better now

You convinced him to make the stories end better

You sat with him to make SURE the stories end better

He also started writing novels recently

You help with plot and character development

He appreciates that

The Jims… don’t really care about you

I mean you’re interesting, of course

But they physically Cannot get a clear picture of you

Even if you agree to sit still, it just doesn’t happen

It is always, ALWAYS blurry

They eventually give up and leave you alone

They do spend a bit of time with you

You help them with demon episodes sometimes

You don’t do much, but they like the emotional support

King of the Squirrels is… well, he’s him

He doesn’t… he doesn’t do much

He hangs out with his squirrels. That’s pretty much it.

You just started hanging out with him one day

He didn’t mind

You two feed the squirrels while sitting by a tree

He lets you wear his crown sometimes

He draws his squirrels, and lets you see the pictures

He teaches you how to draw them

You two don’t talk, really

You just sit. And hang out.

He doesn’t really smile, but you can tell when he’s happy with you

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dulafer · 3 years

Text

TWIN REVENGE

This is an old one, just thought I’d share..... Its of my shortest stories. Any feedback appreciated - [email protected]

REUNION

I’ve always been the odd twin out. Will and I were both named William C. Witt with the only difference being our middle names – Charles and Conner. I’ve never liked being called ‘Willy’ while William preferred ‘Will’. Growing up, our parents couldn’t tell us apart - we even have the same birthmark on our chins.

I’ve always been jealous of Will for being the favorite. Many times, I’d answer to my brother’s name on purpose or force Will to swap places with me. The first time I was Will was when he was failing algebra in 9th grade and didn’t want our parents to find out. We swapped places so I could take his tests. My condition was that I stay as him for the day – soaking up my parent’s adoration and love. Will was definitely our parent’s favorite which pissed me off the older I got, often lashing out for attention. In high school I started impersonating my brother to get him in trouble. Sometimes, I would get caught because my brother would have an alibi with friends backing him up, or I’d would slip up wearing my hair differently or some other little detail.

By our junior year, I started hanging with another group of friends and dealing drugs. My reputation for trouble followed me as my ‘business’ grew. Will knew what I was up to because people would mistake him for their dealer. Weeks before graduation, the principal caught me selling drugs red handed, thanks to a tip from Will. Since Witts are a powerful family, Dad worked a deal to allow me to graduate on the condition that I spend the summer in rehab. The deal was made and the day after graduation, Dad drove me to the rehab center. I lasted a week before escaping and never being seen again.

My drug pals smuggled me out of Los Angeles to northern California. San Francisco was the perfect spot for me. With my college age looks, I blend in on local high school and college campuses where my business grew exponentially. I wear the college gear that fit the campuses I was working daily. I’ve always been thrifty with my earnings and always a light user myself so I saved my money for a future free of drugs. When I can, I sit in on college classes, mostly political science since my father was always drilling politics into Will and I.

Will on the other hand, was the perfect son. He attended college for political science, becoming a staunch conservative. But Will wasn’t always perfect. After two years in college, he dropped out and was hired at Prager U as a campus correspondent to interview students and follow trends. Will quickly picked up a fan base nationally and within months was buying a condo and new car – with the help of a proud rich father. Will travels the country giving speeches, interviewing people and blogging.

Mom and dad have all but forgotten about me. I faked my own death and changed my name when I heard my family was looking for me. It was convincing enough that the Witts even had a funeral for me.

CAMPUS LIFE

I’m at Stanford University working my regular ‘route’, supporting my boys with product. A few girls spot me, come running over and one screams. “Oh my god, Will! I’m your biggest fan.”

I wonder why they’re calling me Will and fawning over me? “Hi, thank you so much.”

“We can’t wait to hear you speak. You going to do a ‘man on the street’?” the other one squeals.

“Sure am.” Not knowing what that is even. I see one of my boys coming over for his weekly stash. “Excuse me ladies, I’m meeting an old friend.”

Tyler comes over with his usual swagger carrying his backpack. “Do I have competition bro?”

“No, not at all! You know you’re my main man.” We do his frat’s handshake. Anyone watching us would see us both in Stanford gear and just assume we’re students. We take a seat on a nearby bench, talk business, two minutes later, he’s leaving with my backpack full of drugs.

I walk around campus, wondering about those two girls calling me Will. When I get to the campus hub, I see my face plastered all over the board. The flyers reads ‘Will Witt, Prager University, Topic: Campus Diversity’. I pull one off the board, fold it up and place it in my backpack pocket. I’ll be damned, my little brother in town. I have to see this for myself.

I get home and study the flyer, find the Prager U site and start watching my brother’s videos. We’re so alike with our political beliefs – neither of us have fallen far from our father’s tree. We both have the same attitudes and beliefs as good old dad. He even sounds like dad did, around the dinner table our entire life. I then log into his Instagram account, using Will’s password he’s been using for a decade. I’m getting envious of my brother’s life – he’s still the golden boy and I’m sure dad is super proud of him. He’s traveling all over the world thanks to this Prager gig. On top of that, he’s become famous on Fox and other mediums for being very articulate and full of energy.

As I watch him, I’m getting very envious of Will. I’m as smart and talented as my brother. I could have been the favorite son, the celebrity. ‘Should be, could be, will be.’ I think to myself. That should be my life.

The next day, I head to a theater supply store and buy a fake belly, beard/mustache and some make up. I’ve got to see my brother in action today. Will is scheduled to do a ‘man on the street’ interview on campus this afternoon, then the speech later tonight.

I show up for his man on the street interview but hang way back, out of sight of Will. With my disguise, I’ve gained 50lbs, a full beard, sunglasses and wearing a tie dyed hoodie. I watch and listen as Will, his producer and camera man set up everything. I record everything with a shotgun microphone - hearing the back and forth banter between Will, his cameraman Gavi and Mike, his producer. That evening, I attend the lecture in another disguise just to be safe. I’ve haven’t seen Will in over two years but he’s still the same arrogant Will in private. In public he’s very friendly and charming. As I’m listening to Will speak, a plan starts to formulate in the back of my mind. Willy is already dead to the world, so why not become Will. It’s not like I’m inexperienced in doing it. It would always piss Will off when I would steal his identity and fool his girlfriends. While he was taking a shower, I would get dressed first, take his clothes, phone, car and pick up his girlfriend who was clueless. Will would be pissed but I would apologize and he would forgive me. One time Will called his girlfriend while I was impersonating him and couldn’t convince her that he was actually Will – I was that good.

I start tracking my brother via his emails, calendar and social media. Will is flying from Los Angeles to Washington for a week, with Turning Point USA to promote Prager U and himself. Our parents will also be gone on vacation to Europe for months, with plans to hook up with Will in London for lunch and a show in a month.

MOVING TO LOS ANGELES

I need to formulate a detailed plan. Will has lived the good life long enough, it’s my turn now. I start with cleaning up my life here – telling my friends that I need to disappear again. They buy it easily as it has happened before. I clean out my bank account – about $1m, and drive to Hollywood where Will lives.

I rent a furnished apartment across the street from Will’s condo. It’s perfect – from my living room and bedroom, I can see his entrance and garage. I keep my fake beard and baseball cap on all the time, and only use the back entrance to go anywhere. On his departure day, I watch him being picked up by an airport service and confirm his flight took off on schedule. I head to my bathroom and remove my beard and hide my longer hair under a baseball cap. The condo manager gladly provides ‘Will’ with a spare key when I tell him I lost mine.

Will’s condo is very nice with an open floorplan. There’s 3 bedrooms and 3.5 baths. The lower level is a 2 car garage, lots of storage, a large video recording studio and utility room. His silver Porsche 911 Cabrio is parked next to a motorcycle. On the wall is some leather gear, boots and helmet. The 2nd floor has a large living room with exposed brick walls, huge flat screen, fireplace, bar, gourmet kitchen with top end stainless steel appliances and a personal office. The 3rd floor is all bedrooms with a huge master suite with large bathroom and large walk in closet. The one spare bedroom is sparsely decorated with just a bed, dresser and chair. The other bedroom is mostly empty. It’s a great ‘crib’ but I’m certain daddy helped pay for most of it.

I get to work quickly with my plans. I try to check out his studio’s computer but its password protected and I can’t get it to unlock. This isn’t a problem after I plug in a thumb drive with keystroke tracker and some other tricks. In a minute, I gain access to all his computers and social media accounts. The password was his usual password but backwards.

His iMac Pro is a wealth of information – full of his unedited videos, speeches and even a digital diary. I thought he stopped doing a diary in 11th grade but apparently not. He updated it just this morning before leaving. I’m sitting there for hours reviewing his life since I left. His comments about my death and funeral are cruel to say the least. He blames me for fucking up life with my death, how mom & dad are glad it’s over and they’re all better off. Even my father agreed with him. That’s fine by me, they won’t miss Will at all when I take his place.

I decide to spend the night here and continue my studying. In his basement studio there is a green screen, professional video cameras and teleprompters set up in one corner which he uses to make his cutesy videos. I turn on the equipment, click on a file and up pops the words to his last blog on the teleprompter. On another display in front of the green screen pops up the empty stool where he sits. On the stool is a remote I believe is for controlling everything. I plop my ass down, face the camera, and see myself, or Will on the display in front of me. I fuss with my hair to give me Will’s prominent cowlick, press ‘record’ and the words start moving for me to perform. “What’s up guys, Will Witt for Prager U” I repeat his performance, then delete file before passing out at 2am, after seeing his posts on landing in Washington DC.

LOOKING THE PART

My brother prides himself on his hair, especially the huge cowlick that he’s proud of. According to his calendar, he had a haircut a few days before leaving for Washington. I make myself at home taking a shower, and pulling on some of his clothes – dark gray skinny jeans, t-shirt, jacket and his black high top converse sneakers. I’m missing his clunky watch and ring he wears all the time, and also his rope crystal necklace he’s been wearing since he was 15. The one time I was with one of his girlfriends, not having that necklace on, gave away my identity. I jump in Will’s Porsche and find a salon with a great google rating. I ask for my usual and show her pics from two days ago. They’re very close up and detailed. In half an hour, I’m smiling at Will in the mirror, running my hand through his cowlick.

Back home, I pull in to the garage and before I can close the door, some pretty little thing is running over to me.

“Will! Hey there, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Oh hey, you caught me.” I smile and act surprise.

“Tammy and I are having a party tonight.” She hands me a flyer ‘Jen and Tam’s Big Party’.

“That sounds like a blast, ‘Jen’.” Hoping she’s the ‘Jen’ on the flyer.

“I was just going to slip it in your mailbox. Thought you were going to Washington or someplace exotic again.”

“My DC trip was postponed, so I’m here.” I give her a typical Will smile.

“Washington’s lost is our gain. You have to come. Besides you can crawl home if you get drunk like unlike last time.”

“I’ll try my best but super busy here.” I chuckle with her, not sure what she’s referring to but Will’s diary will probably help me remember some of it. I’d love to go but there’ll be lots of iPhones around and plenty of pics/videos posted on social media.

A friend sent me a lot of WiFi HD fiberoptic video cameras and microphones to bug my brother’s place. I place a few in each room then sync them to my iPad. Walking from room to room I test them all for activation. It takes all day to hide them properly. Later on, Will’s latest VLOGs and antics from Washington start appearing on his desktop.

His video reminds me how different our styles are. Will was always conservative dresser while I went for the grunge look. His videos confirm his tastes haven’t changed at all except becoming more expensive. I’m making myself at home – it’s going to be my future home soon anyway. With my new haircut, it only takes a little of his gel to look exactly like him.

It was always fun turning myself into Will when we were younger, it’s still a turn on now. I print out some pics from his PC files, showing various outfit he’s worn. I’ve got to nail his ‘look’ perfectly for my future life. There’s one of him in a sharp black suit, white shirt and black tie playing a piano, with a red lapel thingy at a Prager U gala a month ago. We both took piano lesson but I was always a little better.

It’s easy finding the outfit in his very organized closet. He took it off, left the lapel pin in and probably hasn’t worn it since. There’s a video of the gala in his files that I watch, providing me glimpses of his shoes and watch. I strip out of his jeans, and into the outfit. I couldn’t find his watch – it’s probably in Washington on him but I slip on his pinky ring and a different watch from his jewelry box. Back in the studio, I start a new file – Prager Gala, pretending that I’m Will being interviewed about the night’s events. I sit on the stool, hit record and adlib the event starting with Will’s signature “What’s up Guys” intro, including flashing his two fingers. Being Will is all very natural for me. I’m up half the night learning the equipment, checking out his videos and closet. I just need a few weeks of studying him before I replace him.

To access his cell phone, a friend puts me in contact with a local guy who clones Will’s iPhone. It costs $2000 but I now see his text messages, calendar and listen to his voicemails. I can also listen in on his calls while he’s talking to people. I can’t speak to them, and they can’t hear me but it’s perfect timing. With him in Washington, his entire life is going through his cell phone, providing me with up to the minute information. He’s working on his schedule for the next few months. With access to all this, I’m learning who his coworkers are, listening to work conference calls, what they’re working on and what Will’s job entails as Prager’s ‘social media influencer’.

Will has a spare set of keys for our parent’s place so I visit just to see what changes have been made while I’ve been gone. The most obvious change is the lack of pictures of me. Their mantel has no pics of Will and I together. It almost looks like they have only one son – that I never existed. Everything else is pretty much how it was three years ago. As I was leaving, Mrs. Tarantolo, their neighbor sees “Will” and comes running over to say hello. She thought it was sweet I was keeping an eye on their place while they were away “Such a good son.” She claims to be my biggest fan and hasn’t missed any of my videos. She’s clueless about me, as she should – when even our parents couldn’t tell the difference, I’m not worried about anyone.

My week consists of listening, watching and reading everything he’s up to. I take his Porsche out to grab lunch or dinner to remote places so I’m not seen by anyone that could know him. A few times, fans mistake me for Will and I sign autographs using “What’s Up Guys”. They’re thrilled and its harmless fun for me.

The week flies by and I return to my apartment across the road. I return the spare condo key to the manager after making a duplicate of it. On schedule, Will returns via LAX shuttle service. My surveillance system works perfectly as he moves around his condo. I see him taking a shower, changing into sweats and working in his studio. His buddy Mike arrives later with pizza and they brainstorm in the studio about their next VLOG and ‘man in the street’ topics. Listening to their banter helps me learn the lingo and their personal relationship.

Will has not changed a bit since I left Los Angeles – same old anal retentive asshole. It’s fun watching and learning about him. He’s still an avid runner, and like clockwork, he does five miles around a nearby park most mornings. Prager U is just a few miles away and he’s there daily unless he’s traveling. He has a new girlfriend he casually hooks up with but it’s not serious, so that’ll be easy. He writes about meeting her in his diary. He’s got his work schedule planned for the next few months and I know enough to handle it. After a few weeks, my gut is telling me I’m ready to be Will Witt.

Will’s next major trip is to London for a scheduled Turning Point USA promotion/MOTS and speech at Oxford University – same as he did at Stanford. My plan is to replace him when he arrives home. This gives me another 10 days to get up to speed with his life. I watch him pack, see LAX shuttle service pick him up and confirm his plane took off as scheduled. I make myself at home but keep a low profile, rarely going out.

Between his phone and computer, I’m kept busy 24 hours/day just keeping up with his life. He’s definitely a video freak, not only recording content for Prager but also everything else like his hotel room, what he had for breakfast, his shopping excursions. I can’t wait to wear his new $7000 bespoke suit he purchased during his shopping expedition on Saville Row. I listen in on his phone calls with our parents, his friends and girlfriend Lisa. This helps me get up to speed with what’s going on in his life. Mom & Dad meet Will for lunch at his hotel, then go to see Hamilton. There’s plenty of selfies and videos to make his life mine. He’s spending a fortune on food, wine, clothes, cigars and trinkets.

A few hours before he returns, I’m armed with chloroform, truth serum and various knock out drugs. I hide in his bedroom, ready to pounce with a heavily soaked rag of chloroform. It’s almost enough to knock me out just holding it.

HONEY I’M HOME

The door lock jiggles and Will enters, plopping his luggage inside the door. He makes a beeline to kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He’s there quite a while before I hear him dragging his very large suitcases up the stairs. I’m crotched in the corner, behind the door as he struggles to get both bags through. The perfect moment happens when one of the bags get stuck in the door jam and I hear him say ‘fuck’. In a split second, I pounce and have the chloroform soaked rag over his nose and mouth. A split second after that, he almost falls to the floor as I catch him. I drag him out into the hallway, and finish putting his bags in the bedroom.

“Welcome home Will, have a good trip?” I look down at him passed out and ask.

“Awesome trip man, had fun with the TP USA team, saw Hamilton with the parents, and hit up lots of pubs and cigars. I’ll have to show you all the pics I took.” I respond to myself in Will’s typical enthusiastic lingo.

I drag Will to the empty bedroom and start stripping him. Of course, he’s in a sport coat and tie to travel. It’s so ‘Will’ I think as I carefully remove everything from him, amazed at how alike we still are. I strip off my old sweat pants and t-shirt and put them on him. I pull him up into a metal chair I anchored to the floor, then handcuff his hands and feet so he can’t move an inch. I kneel down next to him, grab his face, then rotate it side to side to check his appearance close up. My sideburns are about a quarter inch too long so I head to my bathroom and trim them to match exactly.

I carry ‘my’ clothes back to my new bedroom and slowly start my transformation into Will. I love pulling on the outfit he’s been wearing all day—his sweat and scents mixing with mine. Everything is still warm as I put on his black briefs and socks. His charcoal dress pants fit perfectly as I pull them up. His shirt has gunmetal gray cufflinks and is monogrammed on the sleeve with our initials ‘WCW’. I pulled the black lace up shoes off his feet without untying them. I wiggle into them, tuck in my shirt and fasten my belt. In the bathroom mirror I put on his tie using the same technique dad taught both of us. I pull on his cool black sport coat with large dark gray plaid patterns. There’s a video of him wearing this outfit for red carpet Oscar interviews. I check his breast pockets, locating his iPhone, keys and wallet. Tucked inside an outside pocket are his glasses. Slipping on his ring, leather wrist band and watch completes my transformation into Will Witt. I adjust my hair using his Cremo hair cream—Will is always fussing with his hair. Staring in the mirror, I only see Will Witt, just as he was traveling first class earlier. I grin at myself as I adjust my shirt cuffs and admire my looks. I do his usual MOTS intro flawlessly – “What’s Up Guys”. From this moment on, I’m Will Witt and no one will have a clue I’m not.

My iPhone buzzes in my suit pocket, it’s Will’s girlfriend, Lisa calling.

“Hey Lisa, I just got in the door babe.” I answer watching myself in the mirror, smiling and playing Will flawlessly.

“I thought you would be, I’ve missed you so much Will.” She whispers seductively.

“Same, may I take you out for dinner?” I ask as charmingly as Will does, remembering their conversation from a day ago, and Will promising dinner and a surprise.

“I would love that.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 7, Let’s dress up and go someplace nice. I’ll wear a suit and tie.” This gives me the afternoon to get settled into my new life.

“Okay Will, can’t wait.”

“Bye Babe.” Will’s cutesy name he uses for all his girlfriends.

‘It’s show time’ I think to myself. I head back to my brother who’s finally starting to stir from the chloroform. I start slapping his face and he becomes more aware.

“Wake up Willy, Willy wake up.” I say playfully.

He looks confused, slowly recognizing me, his eyes bug out, then starts to struggle. “But you’re dead?”

“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Don’t struggle bro, you’ll only hurt yourself.” I laugh at him.

“What’s going on Willy? Why are you in my clothes?”

“From now on, please call me Will and they’re now my clothes. I just got back from London and I’m really jet lagged.” I stand proudly, straighten my tie then reach into my breast pocket for my new wallet.

“Asshole, what do you think you’re doing?” he yells and gets pissed as he’s now fully awake.

“Well, remember when you planted drugs in my locker, turned me into the school principle and ruined my life?”

“Yeah, that was a good one! They all bought it too. Got rid of you for good.” He laughs.

“Well, laugh all you want. I’m borrowing your life.”

“You’ll never get away with this. Whatever you are planning, won’t work.” He predicts.

“Well I’m taking Lisa out to dinner tonight to celebrate my return. In other words, I need pussy but Will doesn’t talk like that. Let me rephrase it – I’m taking my girlfriend out for dinner and hopefully make love to her. Better?” I leaf through my wallet checking it out, pulling out the debit card. “Bro, is your PIN still 8991? I may need some cash for my date. You only have a $40 in here.”

By the look on his face, I know he never changed is PIN. “Thanks bro, just needed to confirm that.”

“She’ll know you’re not me, don’t even try it.”

“Bro, you’re talking to the guy who fooled all your girlfriends in high school. You’ve been dating her for what? About 6 weeks after meeting her at Jen’s last party where you got wasted and don’t remember getting home.”

“You’ve been reading my private diary?”

“Well, you could say it’s my diary. So, I was just reviewing my life for the past few years.” I laugh at him. “Which brings me to a new issue – where should I take her for dinner, and do afterwards?”

“Fuck yourself.” He yells.

“Bro, I’m hoping to fuck her, not myself. You don’t want me to do something brash, ‘unWill like’ and ruin your relationship do you? I bet she doesn’t even know you have a twin brother, am I right?” I laugh at him.

“Willy, what are you doing? Just untie me and I’ll forget this ever happened. I promise.” Trying to soften me up.

“Let’s get this straight, for the time being, I’m Will Witt, you’re nothing, don’t call me that again.” I yell at him. “Now, you’re going to help me be you or I’m going to really fuck up your life. You know I can do it. If you lie to me, there will be repercussions. Do not test me.”

“Okay.” He responds defeated.

“Okay, what?” I demand.

“Okay Will. Lisa loves Italian and there’s this little family owned restaurant called ‘Papa Joe’s’ near her house. She loves it and so do I. That’s where I was planning on taking her tonight. I always get the ‘Lombardo’ dish with an ice tea of course.” He answers defeated.

“That’s good information bro, I really appreciate that.” I watch his face and have always been able to tell when he was lying. “What after that? What are her limits? I need everything to be you with her. Give me the full history.”

He proceeds to tell me everything I need to know about Lisa – at least I hope so.

“Now I need details about my job. I know where you work, and what you do but more details about the people, office layout, where your office is and how I get in?” He gives me looks that could kill. “What’s up guys?” I mock him with his catch phrase.

“My work ID badge gives me complete access anytime. It’s in the front pocket of my backpack. I have an office on the second floor, just left as you get out of the elevator. My name is on the door. You can’t miss it.”

“What do you do when you first get there, in the morning? Routine? Pals? Coffee? conference room? Where do you go for lunch? I need it all Willy. You don’t want me to mess up your perfect little life, do you?” I subtly threaten him.

Once I pump him for everything, I grab the bag from the corner, pull out a needle and inject him. He screams at me for about two minutes then become docile. I walk him to the bathroom and order him to relieve himself. Once secured back in his chair, I give him dose of Midazolam that will keep him out for 12 hours and put a ball gag in his mouth. I shut and lock the bedroom door, head back to my master bedroom finishing my unpacking.

I slip easily into Will’s routine. My shirts and suits will go to my cleaner per the receipts in the Porsche, the rest go into the washer. Carefully tucked inside his luggage is his new Saville Row Huntsman, a few new dress shirts and the Big Ben charm I bought Lisa in London. I can’t help but try on the new suit, admiring the fit and material. I head downstairs and see Will’s work backpack he has with him all the time. I take it down to the studio office and start going through the content…. A few cameras, my passport, iPad and MacBook Pro. There’s a printout of my next Prager assignments and hand notes he made in the margins. I find his work ID, clip it to my suit, repack his backpack and head to the office.

A DAY IN THE LIFE

I’ve followed Will to Prager U but have never stepped foot inside. I pull into an empty parking lot, and park in his assigned spot. Will says no one is ever there but he sometimes goes in to get a jump on Monday. My ID badge opens the main door. I easily find his office and make myself at home. On the wall I notice the signed photograph of Reagan that dad treasures and wonder how Will has it. I plop my backpack on the chair next to my desk and start exploring. I open my MacBook and it starts syncing with the LAN. I easily log in and upload my videos as Will does after all his events, according to his logs.

I explore the entire building and everything is as he described – Boss’ office, video production, media center, studio, executive conference room etc. I confidently walk around taking in the names of my coworkers. In the men’s room, I smile at Will in the mirror and clean out my coffee mug.

Back in the office, I settle into my desk and go thru my drawers, check my work email and respond to some. I hear someone coming up the stairs, calling my new name, approaching my office. I recognize it immediately as Will’s producer and friend – Mike.

“In here.” I yell out to him.

He pops his head around the corner. “Welcome back, how was your flight?”

“Uneventful, good to be home but jet lag.” I casually answer.

“My flight yesterday was delayed an hour from Chicago but not too bad.”

I heard their last conversation before Will took off this am, and continued it. “I’m good with the final edits from MOTS, just uploaded it so Alexander can add the graphics.”

I pull up the video, knowing Will made a few cuts on the flight over, and show it to him.

“You’ve been busy man, looks great. You want to grab lunch?”

“Sure, you drive and pick.” I can’t resist the thought of testing my ‘Will skills’.

Mike takes me to ‘In & Out’ for burgers. He doesn’t suspect a thing, readily accepting me as his friend and coworker. We talk about the trip, work and future trips. I feel as if I was actually there. He drops me off and I head back to my office and continue to familiarize myself with everything for a few more hours.

My big test will be ‘my’ girlfriend Lisa. I stay in Will’s slick outfit, donning his favorite Ray-Bans for the drive. She’s waiting for me outside and jumps into my car. Her unexpected full tongue kiss surprises me but I quickly adjust and give her full tongue back. We make out for a minute then I take her to Papa Joe’s. Will was telling the truth, Lisa lights up as I pull in front and valet the Porsche. I use my brother’s pics, diary, blogs and text messages to talk about my London trip. When desert comes, I spring the Big Ben charm on her. She leans in tenderly, kisses me deeply and invites me to spend the night.

At her place, we strip and jump right into bed. In minutes, she’s moaning as I work her pussy, slowly penetrating it with the tip of my head. She starts moaning softly ‘oh Will, oohhh Will’ making me harder, pushing deeper into her as she climaxes. I explode in her, then collapse onto my back as she curls up under my arm and we fall to sleep. She wakes me up with a blow job and homemade pancakes – Will’s favorite she notes. I’m not a big pancake fan but eat them eagerly as Will would. I’ve replaced Will completely and now have his sexy girlfriend.

DAY TWO

I check on Willy when I get home and he’s starting to stir. My schedule today calls for video editing at Prager U with Gavi and Mike. I take a quick shower put on an outfit that screams ‘preppy conservative’ – which isn’t difficult as that’s all Will has in his closet, making my job easy.

I pop my head in to the bedroom and see that he’s wide awake.

“Morning sunshine.” I cheerfully say.

“Let me the fuck out of these straps now!” he mumbles as I remove the ballgag.

“Sure thing, but first a little shot so you can take a dump and eat a little something. Hungry?”

“No, don’t drug me, it’s a fucking weird feeling.” He pleas.

“Sorry man, I can’t chance you getting free and having a fake Will running around.”

“You’re the fake Will, ass wipe.” He screams.

“Hmmm Lisa and Mike didn’t think so. I ran into Mike in the office yesterday while uploading my latest VLOG and MOTS video, then had lunch with him. He’s a good friend of mine. Oh, and Lisa… Damn did I hit her sweet spot last night as she moaned my name softly in my ears. She really loved the Big Ben charm I got her and the ‘Big Will’ I gave her. I think I’m in love bro.” I grab my crotch so he knows what I’m talking about.

“You fucking bastard!! Fucking asshole!! You’ll be caught. You can’t slip into my life that easily.” He screams.

“Now, now, Willy. Guess you didn’t notice the video and audio bugs I installed throughout my new condo or the keystroke tracker on your computers. I’ve been catching up with you since Stanford. Your condo manager was gracious enough to give me a key after you lost it.” I run and grab my iPad and play some of the videos for him, then I show him the cloned phone and play his last conversation with Mike.

“Guess I don’t need this cloned phone any longer. I have to admit, you’re quite the busy person. Your phone never stops ringing and beeping but don’t worry, I’m keeping up.”

“Fuck you Willy! When I get free, you’re going to jail or worst.”

“If you get free, which I doubt. If you haven’t noticed, you’re bolted to the floor. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll have new carpet installed at some point. Nice thing bro – between my bank account and yours, I’m quite wealthy with a lot of future potential. In fact, after this gig, I’m thinking of running for office. Dad would love it and back me financially.”

He mutters. “Fucker.”

“Hey bro, don’t worry, I’m taking good care of your life. Enjoying it immensely, especially Lisa. She really knows how to wake me up but I’m not big on the pancakes.”

He thrashes back and forth in the chair screaming more obscenities at me.

“Bro, seriously, how do I look? Do you approve my work outfit? I’ve noticed this sport coat is one of your favorites. Oh, and my new suit from London fits great and feels incredible. I just had to try it on.” I taunt him while adjusting my shirt sleeves and checking my watch.

“What are you doing here?” he quietly demands.

“Well the drug career pays quite well but is extremely dangerous. After seeing you at Stanford, I decided a career change was necessary. Don’t you agree it’s a good career move?”

“You’ll never fool them for long. There are things only I could know. You’ll tripped up. What about mom and dad?”

“Are you serious?” I laugh out loud. “Mom and dad could never tell us apart, you know that. I did visit the house while you were in London and from the pictures displayed, it looks like I, Will, am an only child. They’re the least of my worries.”

“Oh, they’ll know you’re not me.”

“Why would they? Just look at me bro. I was always a better you than you, when I wanted to be. I do have to get fully up to speed with my new life, friends and girlfriend but that’s what all my new drugs are for. I kind of like your style so I’ll only wear what you already have in your closet. I’m enjoying your preppy style. I think I’m rocking the Will look, you have to admit it.” I tug on my sleeves not interested in his rants.

“What about work?” He counters.

“Oh bro, that’ll be easy too. I’ve watched all your videos – the work and personal, edited and unedited. I taught myself iMovie to edit my MOTSs for uploading. I’ve seen you brainstorm with Mike on MOTS topics and question. It’s amazing how we even think alike politically. I’m ahead of schedule for today. Like the anal person you are, I was in the office all afternoon while you were sleeping. I cleaned out my scummy coffee mug, organized my desk and left a note for Alexander on the graphics I’d like to see before the end of today. I can’t wait to meet the boss, have been a fan of his for years.”

“You can’t be me!” He slumps his shoulder in deeper defeat.

“I am you, no one will have a clue I’m not.”

I inject him with truth serum and a powerful muscle relaxer. By the time I come back with breakfast, he’s docile and defeated. A few protein bars, quick trip to bathroom and he’s safely secured again. The truth serum is remarkable. I have a totally different discussion with him.

“Hey bro, how do I look? You like?” I spin around to model my outfit.

“I’ve worn that exact outfit before I think.”

“Thank you, now see, it wasn’t too hard to be nice, now was it?”

He spills his guts to me about all his coworkers, and what he thinks of them. While he’s drugged, I hit him up on family issues and his feelings towards me. He basically threatens to kill me and will since I’m already dead. It’s been on his mind since he woke up chained to the chair. I snicker to myself, knowing he’s the one who’s days are numbered. It’s almost time for work today, so I knock him out for another 12 hours.

My first day of work is a breeze. I visit Alexander and review the graphics I want. Mike and I review the schedule and brainstorm future MOTSs and VLOGs. Will has the easy part and probably makes the most money. Prager’s staff writes his MOTS questions and helps him with upcoming speeches. He provides the topic, they handle it from there. Will was good enough to do my outline for his University of Texas speech next week. I turn them in and talk to Marissa, our content producer. I have the best gig – I just need to be the hip preppy conservative face of Prager U and get to travel all around the world.

When I’m leaving Marrisa’s office, I run into Dennis Prager, the president of Prager University. He puts his arm around me and leads me back to his office.

“Will, good to see you, how was London? I just saw your rough video and it’s great”

“Thank you, Mr. Prager. London was great.” I respond and his face immediately looks puzzled.

“Since when am I Mr. Prager?”

“Dennis, sorry it just came out. I’m still out of sorts with jet lag and the British are so formal.” I try to recover.

“I understand boy, plus you probably had too much wine and cigars I’m sure.”

“I sure did. I brought a few Charatan Robustos back with me” I chuckle knowing their conversations about them and using them to solidify my identity.

“And you’re not sharing? Will, Will, Will, how could you?”

“I’ll bring them in tomorrow.”

“Let’s grab lunch son.”

I can’t believe I’m having lunch with Dennis Prager. He’s thrilled with ‘my’ work, wants me to do more TV appearances like Fox & Friends but also liberal networks. My ratings are through the roof. I talk about my London trip, showing him pics of my parents and selfies I took. We talk politics, going back and forth on issues. We get back to the office and I easily fit in and learn the ropes. By the end of the day, I’m very pleased with my new life. I pass on happy hour claiming I’m still of out sorts due to jet lag.

CHECKING IN

Back home I check Willy. He’s awake but groggy.

“What’s up guy? How was your day?” I ask cockily as I strut in.

“How do you think, you sick fuck.”

“So sorry to hear that. My day was awesome. My latest VLOG and MOTS are killing it. I had lunch with my friend Dennis and he wants me to do more TV spots. It was probably the best day of your life, I mean my life.”

“My life! You fucker, my life.” He screams with pure rage.

“Wow bro, you smell. We’ll have to get you a shower but first I need to change. Be right back.”

I run to my closet and throw on a pair of running shorts and a Prager t-shirt. I keep my cell phone on me as it’s been going off all day. When I get back to Willy, he starts yelling at me.

“What are you up to? Did you get me fired? The truth, you owe me that at least.”

I laugh. “Now why would I mess up my career bro?”

“It’s my life and career. You’re going to pay for this you fucking asshole.” He continues to rant.

“I’ve had enough of you already.” I grab the ball gag, shove it in his mouth and he starts thrashing again. My phone rings, it’s Mike calling.

“Hey Mike, What’s up?” Willy’s eye light up watching me.

“No, I’m fine, it was just jetlag and you know me…I tried all the beers and cigars in the pubs…Yeah buddy…thanks for your concern.” I hang up and look at Willy. “Hey that Jetlag excuse will be good for another few days till I get the groove completely.”

He starts mumbling again but the phone rings again with Lisa calling.

“Hey babe, how was your day?” I sincerely ask. Willy starts squirming and getting louder.

“Hey babe, hang on, I’ve got my producer calling.” I put her on hold, walk over to Willy and gut punch him with all my force. I impale him and he shuts up.

“Sorry babe, did I thank you for last night?...Oh yeah, I’d love to but I’ve got a lot to catch up with…My parents are coming back Wednesday from their European vacation and we’re suppose to do dinner Thursday? Would love for you to meet them….Okay… love ya.”

“Bro, see how easy this gig is for me? I still need you for some additional information like the combination to the safe in your office.” He stares at me but is keeping quiet. I grab my little box of drugs and mellow Willy out. A quick shower, shit and change of clothes and he’s back in his chair. I feed him a sub and water that he quickly inhales.

“Now Willy, what’s the number to my safe?”

“Go fuck yourself.” he mumbles.

“Willy, you know I could give you some truth serum or beat it out of you.”

“17858” he spits out as in disgust.

I head down to his safe and open it up. Inside is a gun, his birth certificate, social security card, and a stack of other seemingly important papers. I grab it all and take head up to review with Willy.

“Nice Glock Willy, let’s review what’s in my safe and why it’s there. Some quality bonding time. Most of this I know but the rest?” I ask nicely.

“My contract with Prager U, noncompete, mom & dad’s will, my will, some stocks dad gave me.”

I leaf through it, reading it all and ignoring Willy. In between docs, I feed him some granola bars from the kitchen. I play with the unloaded gun in front of him, on purpose. I’ll have a use for it soon.

“Ok brother, more work questions. There’s ‘PR shots’ on calendar for tomorrow afternoon. What’s with that?”

“Joel, our CMO set them up. It’s just ‘glamour’ pics for his new marketing campaign.”

“Oh, so that’s what my new suit is for I’m guessing. The email to Joel saying you’re all set after you bought it?”

“Yeah, please don’t fuck things up for me Willy. I’ve worked hard this past year.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m Will.” I gut punch him again.

“I’m sorry Will.” He cries in pain.

“That’s better Willy. So, tell me what to expect.”

“Easy, take suit to work, some of my shirts, ties and jewelry. Collette in our makeup will take care of the rest. Just smile and do what they tell you in front of the camera.” he answers, still in pain.

“Shoes?”

“The black derbies I had on yesterday, I bought for shoot specifically, wanted them broken in. Doesn’t matter though – they only shoot from waist up.”

“Now that’s more like it. Don’t fight me, help me so I don’t fuck up your life.” as if he’s ever getting it back, I think to myself.

“Yes Will.”

HANGING WITH FRIENDS

“Now, my friend Tommy wants to go out tonight, grab dinner. What would ‘Will’ do?”

“He wants to do 71Above – it’s the highest restaurant west of the Mississippi. Tricia, his friend is host there and can get us in. Very high end, suit and tie required.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah, he’s picking me up, I’m paying.”

“I’m paying!” I correct him. “What were you going to wear?”

“There’s a black Tom Ford suit with a red lapel pin on it, I’ve only worn it once for a few hours. White shirt and any tie.”

“Oh yes, my outfit from the Prager gala where I played ‘blue moon’ on the piano. What tie, what shirt?” I demand.

He looks at me shocked. “There’s a new gold paisley tie, white spread collar shirt with cufflinks.”

“Why thank you brother. I better go and get ready.” I shove another granola bar in his mouth.

I easily assemble the outfit he was going to wear. After all my spying, I’m sure I would have selected something as tasteful. I skip the gold paisley and decide on a ‘men in black’ look, almost exactly as he had on at the gala. A quick shower, 20 minutes with my hair and another 20 to dress and I’m still 36 minutes early for Tommy.

“How do I look Willy? Now be honest.” I ask walking into the bedroom.

He checks me out head to toe. “You look good Will. You’re wearing my good watch?”

“My good watch brother, remember? You wore your smaller ring at the gala but I stuck with what I had on coming back from London. I think I looks great. Went with the gold black onyx cufflinks. And dude I even had my name embossed inside the suit, sweet!” I open up my jacket.

“You’ve been watching my videos.” He realizes.

“Of course, and reading your diary, all the way back to when dad drove me to ‘New Starts’ and abandoned me. I’m good Willy, been watching you for a month.”

Just then my phone rings in breast pocket. I pull it out and see it’s Tommy.

“Now keep quiet Willy or you know what’ll happen.” I warn him as I answer. “What’s up Tommy? On your way…yeah early is good, I’m ready… Okay, that sounds good, see you soon.”

“Please don’t drug me bro, I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

“Sorry Willy, can’t take any chances. Besides, Tommy mentioned about having a drink when he gets here. Sounds like it’s routine for you guys. What does he drink?”

“Rum and Coke, lots in the fridge just for him.”

I grab the knock out needle and give him a dose. He doesn’t fight me at all.

“Why thank you bro. I’ll see you later tonight maybe, if you’re awake.” I laugh as I leave and lock the door.

Tommy walks in without knocking, making his way to my bar as I make my way down the stairs. He sees me and lifts the glasses.

“The usual?”

“Sure, sounds good to me.” he’s right at home, grabbing the rum and coke.

“Cheers!” he hands me one, we clink glasses and swig.

I follow Tommy’s lead the entire evening but I know enough about Will to discuss his trip, girlfriend and work. Tommy talks about his auditions for a few movies and a commercial. Sadly for him, I’m a bigger celebrity than he is, as a few people ask for my autograph while waiting to be seated. Tricia has seats for us right next to the window with the best view of LA. It a fun night as a few of Tricia’s friends join us. It’s easy playing Will and his friends. I have everything put on my tab. Thank god he has an early audition for a new Marvel movie, so we leave and I’m home by midnight.

MORE WORK

I’m up early but Willy is out cold still. He looks like death, probably from all the injections and being upright on the chair for days. Not that I really care as it gives me more ‘Will Time’. To keep in character, I put on some of his work out gear, grab my iPod and do my usual run around the park. I work up quite the sweat but it probably helps with all the alcohol Tommy and I consumed. I check on Willy and he’s now awake and not happy. A quick injection allows me to get him relieved and toss him in the shower. He’s not putting up any resistance so I give him breakfast, leave him in the tub but making sure to securely handcuff him to a grip bar. I take my morning shower in the same shower so I can keep an eye on him.

Willy is so beaten that he’s stopped resisting completely and is cooperative even. Believing that by helping me, I’ll get what I want from him and leave him to his old life. What he’s doing is sealing his fate faster. Once I no longer need him, we’ll head up to my parent’s cabin in the mountains and he’ll be fertilizer.

After I towel off, I sit on the toilet seat next to Willy.

“How you feeling Willy?” I ask trying to sound concerned.

“Please Will, can I stay here in the tub all day? I promise I’ll be good.”

“I think I can do that but you have to be knocked out. But sure thing. Tommy is a fun guy bro. He sure loves his rum & cokes. We had a blast. I think he was hurt that women were coming up to me for my autograph but not him.”

“Yeah, that’s happened before when we’re out.” He looks really down.

“What is it bro? you look sad.”

“What do you think? I’m chained up and I can’t believe people are falling for your act.” he gets a little feisty.

“Come on bro, how could they not think I was anybody but Will Witt? Don’t worry, no one suspects a thing, so we’re good but I need your help with today’s schedule – sorta of ‘what would Will do’ session just to make sure I don’t fuck anything up for you. Okay?”

“Sure Will, it’s what I live for.” he responds sarcastically.

“How do you come up with the topics for your MOTSs?”

“Who do you think? Dad, you know how opinionated he is. When we had dinner in London, he rattled off six topics for me to cover and things he’d ask these snowflakes.”

“Ah I thought you sounded a lot like dad when interviewing people. That explains the notes on your iPad. By the way, I’m having dinner with the rents Friday night, having them meet Lisa.” I just smile at him. “Now about today’s pics, what should I wear? ‘What would Will wear’?”

“We’ve been through this – my new bespoke suit.”

“Exactly what you’d wear today – into the office and for the shoot. I’m just trying to help you Willy.”

“Dennis is always pushing for me in more suits and ties, to be taken more seriously outside the campus forum. Keep it simple – black button down shirt, my charcoal brooks brothers suit. For the shoot, the bespoke of course and take all my new dress shirts and ties, many pairs of cufflinks. I love my gold paisley tie, the one you wore last night. Hopefully you didn’t ruin it.”

“No, I went with a black tie, so the paisley is fine.”

“There’s a large suit bag in the back of my closet that can hold everything you’ll need.’

“I have to tell you bro, I’m gaining a real appreciation for your closet. My tastes have really matured in the past months. What’s with the glasses though?”

“They’re for eye strain bro, giving my eyes a break now from the contact lenses. I also wear them for important interviews or meetings where I want to look more mature and smarter.”

“Well your glasses and contacts work great for me too. My eyes have been changing but I never had them checked. Now, what about the shoot? Who’s going to be there? How does it work? What does Will do?” I press him.

“It’s a larger version of my down stair studio. Someone will come get me when it’s my turn, take me to changing room, then make up, then to the set – green screen. It’s easy really. There’ll be people in and out all day long.”

“People like who?”

“Candace, Charlie Kirk, Dave Rubin, Guy Benson and many others. It’ll be a few days of craziness.”

“Nice! Do I have any nicknames or personal things with any of them? Like, how do you address Candace? or Charlie?” He stutters and hesitates. “Spill it or more drugs. Besides, you don’t want me to fuck up anything with your friends now do you?”

“Candace is ‘Candy’ jokingly, she’s getting married in a few weeks.” He continues with the others. I’ll use the information but it sounds childish – something a more mature, evolving Will would never use. I’ll phase that nonsense out.

“Good to know. Thanks. I’ve got to get ready for work.” I grin at him.

Dennis Prager alluded to my evolving image during lunch and that I should be wearing more conservative outfits. I agree completely with the boss and love the image. With that in mind, I ignore Willy’s suggestion and go ultra conservative. I remember a beautiful light blue shirt with white contrasting collar and cuffs that ‘I’ve’ worn a few times. It would be ultra conservative with my gray Brooks.

In Will fashion, I lay out my work outfit on the bed, adding all the details. When I’m satisfied, I pull it on my underwear and socks, pull on my pants. After I add the belt, I pull on the Brooks shirt. To keep with the Brooks theme, as Will likes to do, I select the Brooks tie that he wore previously. The whole image screams ultra conservative and looks great. I add white gold cufflinks, his smaller ring and gold watch. I pull on the jacket and stare at myself in the mirror. I put some gel in my hair then fix it exactly as in the pic I found in an old MOTS video. Oh, almost forgot my tie clip. He’s famous on Instagram for his tie clips? I clip one on and it completes my image. I flash a Will smile and fingers. “What’s Up Guys?”.

I must have nailed the look because when I entered the toilet, Willy’s mouth dropped. In the bathroom mirror, I admire myself, tug on my cuffs and adjust my tie. I don’t say a word.

“Well aren’t you Will Witt.” He comments snidely but I ignore him for a few more minutes as I run my hand thru my hair.

“Who else would I be?” I turn around to face him. “What’s Up Guys, Will Witt for Prager U.” flash my peace sign to him, pretending I’m holding a microphone.

“Probably a better choice for today. No pocket square Will?”

“Oh shit, totally didn’t notice.”

“In drawer under jewelry box.” He answers me without even asking. I run to his closet, find a nice silk white one neatly folded in a square. I tuck it in my suit pocket and check myself out in the mirror quickly.

“Better?” He’s silent.

I pull out his preppy glasses and put on and off. “Glasses, no glasses?” I look at him.

“I don’t care, up to you.”

“Know what, think I’ll have pics taken both ways. I think they make me look older, which would kill my ‘frat boy’ image on college campuses but might help me with the older generation.” I turn to look at his expression but he looks broken. “I love this suit bro, it fits me great. I made sure the knot was right by noting the length of the tie, and location of stripes. Not used to wearing one, almost forgot the tie clip – my fans would have blown up over such a faux pas.”

“True, they watch everything I post.”

“Ok bro, I need to get to work, busy day ahead. I’ll probably be late tonight because Mike wants to do Furley’s for happy hour. I’ll let you in the bathtub so you’re comfortable but how about something to help you sleep?”

“No don’t do that please, I’ll be good.” He begs.

I ignore him, grab the needle and knock him out for the day.

I jump in my 911 and head in for another day in the life of Will Witt. The suit bag weighs about 30lbs and takes up the entire seat of my 911. Everyone accepts me and I keep learning more and more. The lingo is coming naturally to me. The routine of emails, small talk and understanding my role is easy.

I hang my suit bag and jacket on the back of my office door, grab my coffee mug and ease into the day. Just before lunch, Nicki, one of the film staff comes for me – it’s my turn. I’m seated in in one of the dressing rooms, in a makeup chair, in front of the mirror. Collette comes in all smiles.

“Will, you’re looking great.”

“You too, so let’s get started. I’ve got a lot to do today on top of these pics.”

“There’s something we’d like to do different this time.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds ominous.”

“Well, how about we cut your hair some?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that Collette, it’s my signature, my “conservative with the best hair”.” Sounding uncertain for effect.

“Well, I was talking to Dennis and Joel, and we feel you should be the focus, not your hair. We’re not talking about shaving your head, just toning down the cowlick some. If you don’t like, it’ll be back in a few months.”

I think about it for a minute, running my hand through my cowlick, looking at Will in the mirror. I’ve seen videos where the wind destroys his giant flop, part of his gig but in the end, I nod in approval and let Prager U redo my image.

The ‘Will’ PR shoot was so simple, but time consuming. They brought in some famous stylist from West Hollywood to cut my hair – it took an hour! They went through my suit bag and laid out a number of outfits but didn’t question my taste. They took multiple pics of me in 5 different outfits including what I wore in this morning. I was there for hours. At the end of the day, we head to Furley’s as planned for happy hour. I left on my new suit and last outfit I was photographed in. What a happy hour – hanging with Charlie Kirk, Ben Shapiro and other famous conservatives was incredible. Thanks to Will’s unedited interview videos, I knew exactly what small talk he had with a number of these conservative celebrities and played them perfectly.

When I get home, my first stop is to taunt Willy still tied up in bathtub.

“Hey bro, this suit is simply amazing. You were right, the shoot was really easy, except for having to change every 20 minutes. Like my haircut?” I tease

“What did you do to my hair?”

“Willy, remember, it’s my hair. It’s a shorter, more mature, conservative cut. Everyone loves it. I still have the best hair of any conservative. I texted it to mom and she loves it too.” I open up the iPhone and scroll thru pics from the shoot, then laugh and leave to change into sweats. Following the same routine, I inject Willy, help him to bathroom, feed him and put him to bed. In just a few days, he’s totally changed from being in control to being dependent. He’s definitely a shadow of himself but I’m now casting his shadow.

Every day as Will gets easier as I seamlessly take over his life. I’m sure I’ve slipped up a few times but since no one knows Will has a twin, who would suspect me? Wednesday at work was incredible. I helped with the rest of the PR shoot, chatted with all of my new conservative friends. I especially liked talking to Dave Rubin and Candace Owens. I had dinner with everyone that evening and it went really late. By the time I got home, Willy had wetted himself. I was so pissed that I shoved a hot pocket in his mouth, hosed him off and drugged him heavily.

On Thursday Gavi and I do a man on the street, at Santa Monica Pier. I nailed it – quickly picking up Will’s attitude and methods. It was easy after watching all his videos from the past year. Back in the office I sit down with Gavi, edit his video and work with Alexander to add the graphics.

Willy is awake when I get home. His eyes scan me from top to bottom then he starts yelling through the ball gag.

“Hang on Willy.” I pop out the ball gag.

“I hate you Willy and I’m done playing your game.” He spits and hits me on my shorts.

I gut punch him with all my force, then inject him to keep him docile. “Now Willy, we’ll get you on the potty and fed quickly. I don’t have a lot of time, Lisa and I are going to dinner at mom and dad’s. I really like her.”

I get Willy settled, take a quick shower and head out to pick up Lisa. Dinner is a breeze as Lisa is the center of attention. There’s no discussion of Willy at all – just about me and how proud they are of everything I’m doing. As I expected, they were totally clueless I wasn’t their precious little Will. I have to admit, it felt great being home. I showed Lisa my old bedroom and got a BJ on Will’s bed. It was like old times, like his other girlfriends I fooled. Mom and dad announced they’re heading to Hawaii to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary and ask me to watch the house while they’re gone. More time to get reacquainted with my new life as their loving son Will. I spend the night at Lisa’s but get up early to take care of things at home, then work.

Willy is awake and pissed more when I check in on him.

“Morning Willy.” I cheerfully announce.

“You’re Willy asswipe.” He yells back.

I gut punch him with all my force. “Don’t make me repeat myself Willy, now who am I?”

“You’re Will, Will Witt.” He’s barely able to speak, I hit him so hard.

“Now that’s much better Willy. Let’s get you to the bathroom and fed.” I inject him and continue talking while it takes effect.

“So, mom and dad love Lisa bro. I think she’s really falling for me. She gave me a BJ in my old bedroom. Sadly, your old bedroom is now a workout room with no trace of you at all. I showed Lisa my swimming and track trophies, tried on my old letterman jacket and gave her the whole Will Witt history. Can you believe mom and dad are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary? I can’t!” I lay it on thick as the caring son that Will is.

“Fuck off.” The mumbles.

“Oh Willy, don’t make me hurt you more.” I warn him. I can see the drugs have kicked in, and start untying him. Just as I loosen the last night, Willy tries a fast one on me, trying to tackle me to the floor. I’ve wrestled him too many times and know his ‘plays’ and another gut punch and I’m dragging him into the bathroom. A quick shower, shit and breakfast bar and he’s good for another 12 hours.

Once he’s secured, I jump in shower and prep for another day in the office. Fridays are so routine with a team strategy meeting for upcoming projects/videos/content. This is followed by lunch and office time till happy hour at Furley’s. After happy hour, I meet Lisa and a bunch of her friends out for more drinks and dancing, then back to her place.

END OF THE ROAD

I’m up early and skip out of Lisa’s, telling her I have some chores to do for my parents and I’ll be tied up all weekend. Willy is awake and thrashing about trying to get loose. I enter the bedroom smiling, and clap my hands.

“Willy, good news! Road trip bro! We’re going to the cabin to take care of some things for Dad. I thought you’d enjoy it.”

He stares at me, blood shot eyes, a week of facial hair, looking like crap. “Good, could I sleep in one of the bunk beds?”

“Sure thing bro, then we’ll talk about next steps here.” He calms down, feeling better, probably thinking he’s getting his life back. He’s not.

I drug him, give him a shower, get him dressed and fed. The next morning, I get him ready for 4 hour trip to the cabin. The dosage I gave him should keep him out for most of the trip. I pack some clothes and fishing gear in case I get the urge. We leave at 5am to avoid any traffic.

He sleeps the entire journey and I don’t stop once. I’m careful to drive the speed limit to not attract any attention from state police. I pull up to the cabin before 9am. There’s no one around, no one on the lake even – all peaceful and quiet. With Willy securely tied up in the car, I walk around the cabin inspecting the place, reminiscing about our family outings and fishing trips. In the rear about 500 feet from the house is an old well that’s been dry for years. Dad has been talking about filling it in for safety for years, but never did. It’s the perfect place to hide a body.

When I get back to the car, Willy is stirring. I help him out of the car and walk him inside the cabin.

“Will, untie me please. My arms and wrists are killing me.” He pleas.

“Sure thing.” Knowing he’s drugged still and couldn’t run anywhere or harm me.

We walk out to the back porch and I hand him a coke and sandwich. He sits on the step eating and enjoying the partial view of the lake. I laced the coke with enough fentanyl to kill him – he’ll just pass out and die peacefully.

“So what’s the plan Will? I guessing this is it for me. Am I right.” As he takes a large chug of the coke.

“Yeah that’s about it Willy. You won’t feel a thing though, you’ll just fall asleep. Hope you enjoyed the coke, no after taste?”

“Nah, it tasted fine. You know I need a few cokes a day to keep the energy up.”

“Yeah, it’s a habit I’ve had to adopt. You know Willy, I’ve always been a better you and this life is perfect for me. Don’t worry, I love my new life and have seamlessly integrated into it. I’ll take good care of it.”

He’s in a daze now, the drug is kicking in. I help him up and over to an Adirondack chair near the fire pit. He puts his head back and starts breathe erratically. Within minutes he stops breathing. I waste no time stripping and dumping him in the well. I grab a shovel and start shoveling dirt into the well until I can’t see any evidence. For good measure I add another foot of dirt on top of that.

I’m exhausted after that, take a shower and dress in clean clothes. In town I grab a bite at Palmer’s diner – a dive with good food. As I’m sitting there finishing up with a piece of Apple pie, Rob Decker, an old friend of me and Will come up to me. He’s a local who owns a few small businesses, most inherited from his father.

“Will! How are you man? Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” He grabs my hand and shakes it hard.

“Rob, good to see you! Dad asked me to check on the cabin and I needed a break from LA. I’m heading back to tomorrow.”

“Dude, got your gear?”

“Of course, was going to try the old creek before heading home.”

“I’ll join you, heck, even Tommy will go. He’ll be thrilled to see you. He was talking about your videos on Facebook.”

“Sound great Rob, stop by tomorrow morning whenever.”

Back at the cabin, I start a campfire and relax. Once it’s burning good, I grab Willy’s clothes and toss it all in. I have an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and freedom now. I have a few beers and watch the fire slowly burn out. Sunday morning Rob and Tommy show up at 6am. They don’t even mention my brother Willy even though we were all friends growing up. We have a blast and they want to come to the big city and party with me soon.

I fly back late Sunday afternoon and clean up my condo – unmounting the chair, smoothing over the holes in my carpet, cleaning the bathroom and tossing out the rest of Willy’s clothes. I call Lisa and invite her to my place tomorrow night for dinner and love making.

Monday morning I’m in full Will Witt mode. I wake up and take my run, shower and fuss with my hair for 20 minutes. In keeping with Dennis’ wishes, I up my conservative appearance to match my new haircut. My new bespoke Saville Row suit anchors my identity as the only Will Witt. It’s teamed with my favorite blue Brooks Brothers shirt with white contrasting cuffs and collars. I pair it with my new shoes and favorite tie I’ve worn a few times. Joel loves my new attitude and appearance. At lunch, I pull a typical Will move – I escape to a nearby restaurant, hang out and work on my schedule as is habit.

Life is great now. I have tons of friends and fans. Prager U is very lucrative and I’m in demand across the US and world for speaking appearances. No one suspects I’m not Will. I love the notoriety and acceptance. I even love my preppy wardrobe and new style. It’s grown on me and I’ll maintain it.

#twin #imposter #transformation #revenge #straight sex #stolen identity #evil twin #twin swap

22 notes · View notes

ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Different - Keanu Reeves x Reader

[not my gif]

summary : you attempt to explain social media to your oblivious boyfriend, Keanu, during a cute impromptu evening cuddle session.

warnings : loads of fluff! age difference [not specified], x f! reader.

words : 1.9k.

notes : slowly working through my requests. this was requested by a lovely anon. lemme know whatcha think! as always, feedback is so so welcome.

“Hey, babe, you wanna go on a motorcycle ride?” A pondering Keanu wonders, worn out arch hat held in thick fingers. “There’s supposed to be a killer sunset soon.” Long hair outgrown freshly, his shining threads of raven hair had begun to host sporadic specks of silver; managing an appearance all the more handsome.

“Yeah, sure.” You return, eyes focused to the black mirror screen of your phone; inattentive to say the least. Eyes absorbed to the blue screen below, your breathes move slow, deliberate; relaxed. Normally, you weren’t one to centre immense attention to social media, or the raging world at your finger tips. Nonetheless; your feed just happened to be far too fulfilled today, far too many intriguing eye catchers spattered upon your personalized canvas.

“Where did uh-…” You start, eyes still motionless, caged to your device. “Where did you uh…wanna,” Paused, brows thread slight, absorbed. Eyes scrunching with your head shaken slightly, your mind struggles to produce the proper word, momentarily consumed by the images in front of you. “Go.” You blink, snapping; slight emphasis on the word when it finally finds your tongue. “Where did you want to go, baby?” Sparked interest, your tone holds curiosity; attentiveness. All hues you’d hoped Keanu understood you did have in the moment; just momentarily distracted. “You said something about motorcycle…?”

“Yeah, a ride…” Keanu begins again, observing your occupied form situated on the crème couch of his home. Keanu and you were still quite fresh, still adjusting to life together. Merely a firm 4 months into your relationship, you’d figured out one thing quite swift.

You’d keep each other around as long the universe would allow, as long as the skies let. Love is blind, you’d heard; and blind it would stay. The age difference was a factor you’d had to talk out, factor into what had grown. Yet one datum would ring true, triumphant above all.

You love him, and he loves you.

It was as simple as could be.

“Yenno, a ride down sunset maybe,” Keanu speaks, distracted to his train of thought when your eyes stay intent to your screen. “Up the hill to our favourite spot and…uh…” Stocky hand ran through his hair, Keanu’s voice retracts, baritone gently higher when he asks aloud. “Hey, babe, are you even listening?”

Breathing a deep inhale, your eyes flutter to your tall, deliciously handsome boyfriend. In blue jeans and a simple black shirt, he miens delectable; soft features with his full beard tamed to a beautiful fresh groom; your heart races by the second. “Of course I’m listening.” You giggle, patting the vacant spot beside your frame. “C’mere.” You smile, cellphone discarded to the fluffed cotton of the opposite pillow. Keanu carefully situates himself down adjacent, sighing with his heavy palms rested to his jean clad thighs.

He smells of pine, and a cigarette smoked hours ago. Lingering, the scent of your special shea shampoo radiates off his mane; you’d been leaving considerably more of your belongings at his place recently.

“Motorcycle ride. Sunset.” You chime, arms wrapping delicately snaked to his neck, with a gentle kiss placed to dark, stubble ridden cheek. “I was indeed listening.” Finishing, your head rests softly just under his neck to the broad of his chest, arms finding refuge wrapped around his toned torso. Keanu sighs, his own arms finding your body when they engulf around your waist, one hand rested to his thigh as his other soothes gentle, caring brushes to your hip.

His heart thuds gentle, a quiet pacify;

calm as that first pepper of dew on damp earth, and you sigh,

similar to the way mother earth gratifies to the feel of fresh rain,

kissing her roots.

“Gosh I feel old seeing you so…” His voice is full, a heavy drum like the confident sky that brings deep puddles, clear velvet gold. “…fixed on that thing.” He laments, and your hand moves to rest to his chest; offering gentle, tender rubs with the soft pad of your thumb.

“Hmm?” You wonder, gazing up to his chocolate eyes in question. He silences a moment longer, before enduring. “What even is so…interesting about that stuff?” He asks, his own palm moving to rest over yours that stills to his chest. “I mean, I’ve heard about that uh, Instant-gram thing?” He offers, hearing your soft giggle below, against his chest. “And Tweeter, I know Tweeter. Some friends use it.” He justifies, stare locked to the ceiling above. “But what even is the big deal, yenno?”

Quiet, and discreet; your chuckles struggle to contain hearing your boyfriend absolutely butcher the names of rather popular platforms. He’s adorably oblivious, and you feel yourself fall a little harder for him by the second. With a tender squeeze to his arm, you correct. “Instagram, honey. And Twitter, not Tweeter.”

Keanu throws his head back against the couch, a thick smile creeps his lips midst his own blunder. You smile a simper, fingers reaching up to scratch his abrasive beard in a tender stroke. “Also, what do you mean, Ke? It’s just…yenno, social media. It’s fun, keeps me entertained.” You explain, head still rest to his chest with your fingers mindlessly grazing, scratching his cheek. “You know, how you read books when you’ve got time to spare?” You attempt a connection.

His hold on you tightens. “I guess I just don’t get it.” Frowned, his fingers lace with yours toying; gently twining your much softer ones. “I’m too old for this stuff.” He chuckles, head thrown back yet again in a deep sigh.

You recognise Keanu often beats himself up for being older than you, habitually worries he won’t be able to give you the fun, exhilaration, adventure he would have been able to offer easier when he had been a decade fresher; less drear to his timeworn bones, scarcer gray to showered his beard.

Consoling, your grip to his delicate palm firms. “Hey. You know what, lemme show.” Reasoned off your pink stained lips, a soft kiss embeds to his shirt arrayed chest, figure stretching to grab the bulk of your phone. Excited, you open your screen, routinely beginning with Instagram. “Alright.” You enthuse, holding the phone out in between your interwoven bodies. “So, this is my feed. It contains all the accounts I follow, so I can easily see what they’re up to.” You explain, soft padded index scrolling through the stream. “In turn, people who want to see what I post follow me as well. They’re called my followers, see?” You enlighten, showing him your wide compilation of names.

“So you mean like…trackers? These are your trackers?” Keanu’s eyes squint as he gapes the screen, russet eyes struggling to focus on one certain aspect of the screen. It was all much, all new.

Intriguing, but very new.

Already, he’d been struggling to keep up. “No, Ke. That’s weird, and creepy.” You correct. “Followers, okay?” You emphasize, shifting to position your legs up on the couch in a cross seated station. “Anyway, so, I scroll through my feed, and see what people post. I can also give them a like, to show them that I’ve seen it and like it.” His head nods slowly in captivation, although those tender, chocolate eyes still break muddled; wonder dense to his brain. “Alright, and this is my explore page. It has customized posts just for me, complied of all the things I like.” You smile, showing him the screen.

“How does it know what you like?” He genuinely asks, hand raked through his generous, roasty strands. Leaning forward, his figure looms beside you, fully engaged.

“It…it just does. It sees the stuff I usually like and just…does a thing.” You half successfully explain, shifting yet again to get more comfortable.

“Well, sweetheart, that doesn’t sound too safe.” Keanu quietly doubts. “Are you sure this is safe, Y/N?”

Giggling, your arms capture around his bicep, tugging his warm, broad body closer. “Yes, grand dad. It’s safe, the entire world uses it.” Teasing, your eyes scrunch to offer him a bantered, playful expression; a smile vast situated on Keanu’s thin lips in return.

“Alright, here hold it and give it a scroll.” You offer, watching the way your phone appears rather small; dainty in his heavy grip. Keanu grasps the casing with one hand, from the base; similar to the way a middle aged women perhaps would, scrolling very slow through the page with his index finger of his spare hand accompanying.

“Why is the world dissolving?” He timidly, low toned asks, in reference to an Avengers meme. Chuckling, you rub his bicep to a beaming smile of his inability to understand internet culture, allowing his eyes to scan further in.

“Oh! Lemme show you tiktok.” Beaming, your fingers retract the phone, opening the app for him to see. Nonetheless, upon arrival to your home screen, a baffled Keanu gasps, deep baritone questioning in query. “Why are they all screaming?” He ponders, baffled with the device in grip,

and with a raging laugh, your hands exit the screen, leaving your phone to discard to the table below, yet again. “Alright, maybe we’ll save the world of tiktok for another day.”

Sighing, Keanu positions back on the couch, opening his toned arms for you to snuggle into, yet again. Against your cheek, his deep tone rumbles, voice certain with statement. “I still don’t get it.” He confesses, a gentle chuckle apparent to his suave tone. “Hey, sweetheart,” He assures, your hand taken in his. “I’m sorry these things aren’t really what I’m into. I know you like them, and care about them. I’m a little lame.” He jokes, gentle exhale to a rasped chortle.

Awed, your frame moves, just enough to tower over him slight, yet still staying situated in his embrace.

“Well,” poking his chest, you smile. “I think I like you better anyway.” Slow; gentle, your legs drape over his thighs, situating your body to straddle in his lap, arms loomed around his chest, you warmly beam between delicate kisses to his visage.

“You make me laugh more,” a kiss to his cheek,

“You keep me company,” a kiss to his forehead,

“You listen to me when I need you,” a softer one to his nose,

“And, you kill spiders for me.” A final, gentler one to his silken lips; the most luxurious delight you’d ever relish in. “You live in the moment. And that’s pretty freaking cool if you ask me.” Heavy palms place to your hips, his love drunk gaze watching you shower him in nothing but pure, unconditional adoration. And he smiles,

he smiles, wholly. Knowing he had the woman he’d been waiting for, for countless lonesome nights and secluded days.

“You want to take me on a motorcycle ride to see the sunset, because you know it’s my favourite. You really are something else.” You quietly express, awestruck. “Something special grows inside you.” Sincerely, your eyes pierce into his soul, illuminating. Quiet, content, gratified, you pull him closer, whispering; “You’re really something else, Ke.”

Finally, to the sound of his appreciative hum, you soothe, flattening a wrinkle on his shirted chest, grinning. “Now. I believe you owe me a sunset, Reeves.”

And to the sound of your silken tone; fresh as summer flowers and soft running water, Keanu grins, his voice a knowing smile, gentle kiss daubed to your forehead.

“A thousand sunsets fall nothing compared to you, baby.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

#keanu reeves x reader #Keanu Reeves #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x you

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dc41896 · 3 years

Text

POV

So I’ve been wanting to write something based on the song pov by Ariana Grande and then a certain someone decided to attack my heart strings yet again playing the piano so this is an idea I thought of lol. Also this is a sequel to Between the Lines.

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: None, all fluff! (Well maybe a teensy amount of sad times because of the lyrics)

“There she is,” Chris smiles entering the small make shift studio holding two steaming mugs. Joining your bundled form on the grey loveseat, he hands one to you before sweetly kissing your cheek and moving your legs to stretch across his lap. “So how’s my two-time Grammy nominated superstar doing?”

That’s pretty much all he called you now, besides his usual baby and honey, ever since the list of nominations were announced a couple months ago. Every time the words left his mouth, you found yourself giddily smiling and feeling as if you were in a dream you were bound to wake up from any moment.

Like other artists, winning a Grammy was always one of your ultimate goals and now that there was a possibility you could take home not one but two, you felt immense pride and excitement that your hard work was paying off. This excitement soon turned into stress though with the added preparations you needed to complete as the big day quickly approached. Since you were also performing, you and your team had been busy thinking of what the perfect song choice would be as well as concepts that would match.

So far everything was perfect until your pianist had an unfortunate accident requiring him to have surgery on his wrist. Now you were even more stressed wondering if there were any other people you knew that could fill in.

“A little overwhelmed honestly,” you sigh placing your phone down before noticing what exactly was in your mug. “How did you know I was craving cocoa?”

“Well knowing how stressed you’ve been lately, I figured you’d want some since that’s when you crave it most.”

“Aww thank you baby,” you smile leaning over to wipe his mini chocolate mustache before kissing his lips.

“Still looking for a piano player?”

“Yea but with it coming up so soon, we might just have to do the backup song which isn’t entirely a bad thing, but then I’d have to think of a totally new concept, outfit, then we have to rehearse, I’d have to tell the producers at the show we changed it-,”

“Hey let’s take a break from that okay?,” he speaks trying to calm your rambling and very apparent nerves. Taking your hand, he pulls you closer to sit on his lap guiding your head to fall on his shoulder. “I know things aren’t going how you want, but everything will work out. You’re gonna have an amazing performance that people are gonna talk about for the rest of the year, and no matter what, me, your family, friends, and fans will be so proud of you.” Bringing your hand to his lips, he peppers kisses along your knuckles and fingertips making you smile as you snuggle closer to his neck.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, you know I’m always here.”

Soothingly rubbing circles in your back the way you loved for him to do, you nearly let the vibrations from his humming lull you to sleep before an idea makes you sit up, staring at him now confused.

“Honey? You okay?”

“Yea...yea I just thought of something. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You play piano for me! I mean you know the song you’ve heard it plenty of times, heck you even helped with the melody. Then that way nothing has to get changed!,” you excitedly answer holding onto his shoulders.

“Yea all of that is true, and I’d love to help but are you sure? Y/N that’s your night, I don’t want anybody trying to say I’m somehow tied into your success when that’s not true.”

“Chris, you and I both know people are gonna talk no matter what, and as long as I’m with you sadly someone’s gonna think that and try to spread it everywhere. But I don’t care what anyone says, and you shouldn’t either,” you smile moving your hands to rest on his partially bearded cheeks. “Like you said it’s my night and sharing it with the man I love will make it even more special. Especially if he’ll be right beside me the whole time.”

“Whether I was physically on that stage with you or not, you know I’m always beside you.”

Closing the gap between you, his lips capture yours in a quick yet passionate exchange before he rests his forehead against yours.

“Now if you win, does that mean my name goes on it too? I mean as you said I helped with the melody and I am providing my services,” he states as you both laugh holding onto each other.

“I don’t know about the name inscription, but we can work that out later,” you answer.

———

“Alright five minutes guys!,” Gina announces fluffing your curls one last time. Noticing your infamous lip bite as your knee rapidly bounces, Chris places both hands on your knee quickly kissing your cheek before being swatted away by your best friend giving you a much needed laugh. “Hey relax, no smudging the makeup until after they say cut.”

“Two minutes!,” a voice yells as you try your best to breathe.

“You got this alright? You’re gonna do great!” Giving you a quick hug, she disappears behind the cameras and soon you hear the cheery presenter in your ear as she begins introducing your performance.

“Alright now I’m not trying to be biased, but this next performer is one of my favorites! She’s been killing it this year with the release of her highly anticipated debut album which led to her two Grammy noms tonight. Performing from her personal studio, here’s Y/N.”

The piano softly plays in the background as the camera focuses on you perched on a wooden bar stool. Pulling the sleeves of your pullover sweater over your hands, you take a quick deep breath as your cue to start approaches.

It's like you got superpowers

Turn my minutes into hours

You got more than 20/20, babe

Made of glass, the way you see through me

You know me better than I do

Can't seem to keep nothing from you

How you touch my soul from the outside

Permeate my ego and my pride

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me

The way that you trust me

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Glancing over at Chris in his backwards cap, grey tank, and sweats a small smile forms on your lips watching his fingers delicately press against each key. He could feel your eyes as he looked up with a smile himself winking at you and making you innocently giggle.

I'm gеtting used to receiving

Still gеtting good at not leaving

I'ma love you even though I'm scared

Learnin' to be grateful for myself

You love my lips 'cause they say the

Things we've always been afraid of

I can feel it startin' to subside

Learnin' to believe in what is mine

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me

The way that you trust me

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

Standing from your seat, you slowly make your way beside him on the bench resting your head on his shoulder while the camera pans around to catch your cute exchange.

I couldn't believe it or see it for myself

Know I be impatient

But now I'm out here, fallin', fallin'

Frozen, slowly thawing, got me right

I won't keep you waitin', waitin'

All my baggage fadin' safely

And if my eyes deceive me

Won't let them stray too far away

I wanna love me

The way that you love me

Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me, ooh

The way that you trust me, baby

'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view

As he plays his last few notes, your arms gently wrap around his bicep and your chin rests on his shoulder before you peck the corner of his mouth. His lips twitch into that adorable smile you love so much after mouthing “I love you” and all those around cheer with claps and whistles.

“You did amazing honey,” he whispers cupping your cheek with his warm hand.

“Thank you, and you too Mozart.”

“Nope, we’re not making that a thing. We both know I literally could never,” he replies making you both laugh before being startled by Gina’s squeals.

“Girl you won best new artist!”

“Wait what?”

“You won! They just told me so you can go ahead and make your acceptance speech! They’ll play it when the category comes up.”

You have to be nudged by a chuckling Chris being in such a state of shock. Oh course you hoped and wished you’d win, but you didn’t expect it to actually happen. Returning to your barstool, you try to collect yourself as the signal is given that the camera was rolling.

“Wow, um hi everybody! I honestly didn’t think this would happen,” you nervously laugh. “Um first off thank you mom and dad for your support even though I was probably really annoying singing all over the house all hours of the day. Thank you to the fans, of course, for your support as well from streaming to buying my music and all the other ways you guys have been so amazing to me. I may not be able to respond to every single post, tweet, or DM but I see you guys and from the bottom of my heart I truly thank every single one of you. My friends and my team, I love y’all so much and appreciate all that you guys do to help and keep me sane.”

“And to the one who inspired the song that helped me get this award,” you sigh peering past the camera to see a glossy eyed Chris leaning against the wall. “Thank you for being exactly what I need when I need it, whether it’s a cuddle buddy, a partner in crime for late night food runs, or a friend to remind me to love myself when I’m doing the opposite. I love you and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Rotating the silver band on your ring finger, you hold up your hand with a shy smile to reveal a sparkling princess cut diamond making everyone around beam with excitement, and surely those who would be watching at home.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

#chrisxblackreader #chrisxwoc #chrisxreader #chris evans

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frenchie-sottises · 4 years

Text

More Skelebros Headcannons.

Thanks to @dont-dimension-it, a lot of you liked my headcannons. Because of it, I decided to write some more. (NOTE: Fellswap Gold Sans and Paps’s nicksnames were switched last time. Paps is Coffee, Sans is Wine.)

Triggers? Just the mention of some phobias.

Papyrus:

- He has his moments of sassiness. - Although he mainly likes children books, he does read some more adult themed books. They’re mainly adventure based. - He saw a bunch of skeleton props in a store once. He didn’t know what to feel about them. - He’s somewhat good at flirting? He has to be in the mood for it, and that’s kind of rare. - Nothing he eats contains any sugar. The last time he consumed sugar, he almost blew a giant hole in the side of Mt. Ebott.

Sans:

- Is actually pretty good on the trombone. He mainly uses it to troll Papyrus though. - Doesn’t like anything child themed when it comes to horror for obvious reasons. - Suffers a pretty bad case of astraphobia, which is the fear of lightning. - Has moments where he falls easily. (In love.) - When he first started to learn how to use his blue attack, he used it on himself and sent himself flying through the entirety of Snowdin. He didn’t get hurt, but he didn’t use it for about a month after that.

Edge:

- He wears a silky black robe cause he knows he’s that sexy. It’s also to spite his brother. - Is so in love with the idea of protecting someone he likes that it can be confused with obsession. (No, this doesn’t include his brother. Don’t bring up that Fontcest shit.) - Has a bad case of trypophobia after seeing what a wasp’s nest looks like. He almost gets physically sick from being exposed to the triggers. - He’s also a germaphobe to the point he sets dirt ablaze. - His racecar bed is basically a Ford Mustang bed. It also functions as a real car.

Red:

- Pretends he hates ketchup, but he secretly likes it. - Also suffers trypophobia. - Has about nine pairs of the same kind of sneaker. - Has tried to imitate his brother’s cackle once, ended in humiliation. - He’s learn to tone down on being vocally violent.

Stretch:

- Unlike most of his lazy counterparts, he actually has a proper bed. - Has a jacket where there’s pockets on the inside, so when he wears it, he stuffs them with random items. Every time he takes out something from them, people joke about him having portals on the inside of his jacket. - Has a beanie that is the same color as his hoodies. He only has it to make jokes with. - He used to wear slippers, but they kept flying off his feet the few times he’s tried to run, so he wears little booties that have a similar appearance to tennis shoes. - When he gets super flustered, and I mean his face being almost entirely orange, he’ll melt any snow that happens to be around him. He’ll also become jelly in some cases while he’s melting the surrounding snow.

Blueberry:

- Is surprisingly flexible despite how his body is structured. - When he really wants something, he’ll make a look that’ll send chills down anyone’s spine. - He can sculpt with pretty much anything that is sturdy enough to stand on its own. - May or may not have an art pad personally crafted by Undyne. - Actually does have some scars from some of his fights. They’re mostly on his ribcage and spine, and they’re pretty sensitive to the touch.

Pup:

- Is a metal fan. - Actually knows some German and can mimic a German accent almost perfectly. - If he’s given the chance, he can be sappy as all hell to someone he personally finds charming. - Sings pretty good when no one’s around. - If he had someone who is able to help him with his addictions, it’s guaranteed that he’ll fall in love hard for that person.

Blackberry:

- Has similar ideas compared to Edge when to comes to protection, but it will turn into obsession at some points. He’s gotten better about this though. - If someone manages to bring out his softer side, a part of him will hate them, but he mostly shows genuine respect for having the patience to pull that off. - Will get horribly flustered if someone tells him that he’s still strong despite his body not showing it. - Can make pretty good beverages. Mainly alcohol-based ones. - Makes a hug sound like a threat.

Slim (Fellswap Red):

- Excellent baker. - Can get excited over nothing and it’s the cutest thing on the planet. - Comes up with some of the sweetest nicknames. - Big cuddlebug. - He’s so soft, someone please protect him.

Bloodberry (Fellswap Red):

- Classy motherfucker. - He sucks at baking most things, but he’s good at baking bread-based dishes. - He has an odd quirk where he wears a golden chain in the spring to summer months, and wears a silver one in the fall and winter months. No one knows why. - Tried eyeliner once, hated it. - Bit of a grammar Nazi, but he does actually bother to try and teach others how and when to use certain words and spellings.

Coffee (Fellswap Gold):

- Drinks coffee that’s as black as his soul.. okay, his soul’s not black, but the coffee still is. The coffee also tends to be chocolate flavored. - When he does talk, he has a little bit of a Russian accent. - Has a strong interest in dragons and other mythological creatures. - Stims a lot due to his autism. - His body reacts in confusion when being touched and doesn’t like it, but deep down, he’s secretly touch starved.

Wine (Fellswap Gold):

- Drinks any wine, but prefers classic red wine. - Has a strong Russian accent. - He will treat someone close, other than his brother, almost like they were his own kid. - He’s not in a situation where he can truly let out how he really feels, so when it’s something he’s passionate about, he winds up either training intensely or stims about it. (It’s usually hand flapping and running.) - He’d be a king no one asked but deserved.

Axe:

- Is someone who doesn’t want to be a part of drama. He prefers the quiet life. - He’s learned to make his own butchering weapons. - The kind of person you wouldn’t really want as a dad.. less you like the idea of someone willing to kill someone who insulted you. - Loves being petted and loved on. - Unlike most of his counterparts, a physical heartbeat can be heard.

Everest:

- Can imitate the whistles that are usually heard in a forest. - Prefers the quiet life. - Suffers phonophobia, which is the fear of loud, especially unwarranted, noises. - Despite his hunched over appearance, he likes being tall. He’s weak, so being tall can be a benefit for him since he can appear intimidating. - His armor is made of literal bone as opposed to the typical metal.

Hope y’all enjoy these!

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formless-monkeys · 4 years

Note

What is your favorite relationship(s) in the show (romantically or platonically, doesn’t matter!)

Anon you will regret opening pandora’s box. Or not. In any case, this post is going to be very long because I’m full of love. Also, anything marked romantic does not need to be romantic for me to lose my shit over them. In no particular order, either. Just in the order I thought of them.

1. The Black-eyed trio

Characters: Otto, Sparx, and Gibson.

Type: Platonic, Romantic,

Explanation: These three are grouped together by virtue of not being obscenely powerful and serving more practical uses on the team. Also, their eyes are all the same color. Besides the poetic connections of the colors of their design, they were alone in the robot together while the other three monkeys were out training.

Sparx and Gibson’s interactions give me life, going from playful jabs to genuine fighting right back to ride-or-die is amazing. The beginning of Night Of Fear, the battles in Brothers In Arms, and a bunch of small moments throughout the series are wonderful for this.

I could write an essay about Otto and Gibson, and someone else already has, but I’ll summarize it as ADHD autism solidarity with a side of Shut The Fuck Up Gibson. They care about each other and learn to respect each other in a way that’s better for both of them. I know a real-life Gibson to my Otto and learning that she’s just pretentious and doesn’t really hate anyone, and figuring out that we’re both equally brilliant and incredibly similar has made life a million times better.

Otto and Sparx don’t have as much development as Gibson with both of them, but their jokes together and general trust is amazing. Sparx is the dumb monkey and Otto supports him in his himbo endeavors.

These three together make an unstoppable technical team, and the only reason they probably couldn’t be a superhero team on their own is because of the raw power and fun dynamics brought by the other half of the team.

Romantically, these three would make the DUMBEST polycule ever. There is no true mediator here. It’s three dumbasses figuring out how they could possibly share a twin-sized bed when they have the ability to just make a bigger bed. Gibson calculates the most efficient 3 monkey makeout and none of them follow the statistics. They all give Chiro equally useless and conflicting advice on homework. Trying to give them a mediator in the polycule just makes me go back to shipping polymonkeys because I literally can’t decide if Antauri or Nova go better with them.

2. Quiet trust and encouragement

Characters: Otto, Antauri

Type: Platonic, Romantic

Explanation: When Otto is being dismissed by the other monkeys, or by the show itself, Antauri is usually the first to say “that’s bullshit, Otto is wonderful”. Circus Of Ooze is a notable example, but there are little moments in other seasons as well.

I just love the idea of the historically MOST SERIOUS and strongest monkey, sometimes even elevated to god-like status by some fanworks... paired with the monkey that has been infantilized and disrespected to no end. I personally like making Antauri have to lean on Otto, just to subvert that even further.

Beyond spite, I ship this simply because I like their dynamic. Antauri needs someone to ground him with more tactile physical things, and Otto needs someone to share his more nebulous thoughts I can’t imagine the others listening to. I love them.

Also, I want Antauri to unlock his true dumbass potential. He has the abilities, but not the will. Be silly with Otto. I want to hear him snort-laugh.

I literally forgot all the silver monkey stuff but I got three fics about that you know I go nuts over mechanic x robot shit.

3. The monkeys and their human son.

Characters: Chiro, Antauri, Nova, Sparx, Gibson, Otto

Type: Familial

Explanation: This family gives me joy. They were forced together through astronomical means and they made the best of it.

Everyone living in the robot is absolutely fucked up. They help each other in the darkest of times. They lift each other up when it’s light. They are a perfect team and nobody can be missing without it feeling wrong. But they can add people!

“Girl Trouble” as a concept is AMAZING to me but my secondhand embarrassment is so strong that I hate the episode. But never once is any of the monkeys resentful of Chiro. Not even Mandarin is like “wow I wish he didn’t take my place” no he’s also struck with the urge to nurture this kid to his fullest potential. Whether you see the team as a bunch of older siblings or 4 dads and a mom doesn’t really matter, they’re a family.

I mean, this also has a sprinkling of shipping all the monkeys in a really domestic way because I like seeing my optimal future in characters I like, but like literally all of these, it doesn’t need to be romantic for me to go nuts. I just think it would be fun to throw just a big monkey wedding or whatever. And funnier for Antauri to go “Chiro I’m having a baby. The baby is you” and holding up adoption papers because on the principle of Toby “Radiation” Fox I love that joke, especially when made much less weird than the original context.

I have a set of characters who is just 5 people in a polycule raising kids and living life because I really love this concept as a family.

4. Evil Coworkers

Characters: Mandarin, Sakko

Type: Romantic, Platonic,

Explanation: Why the hell are these two, in particular, working together? SK could’ve put Mandarin with literally anybody else and he chose what on the surface appears to be the LEAST compatible person on the account that they’re both monkeys. Some bitter asshole who now looks like the epitome of toxic masculinity and this tiny pink pet who used his femininity both as an advantage and a style. They’re different but it ends up working really well for both of them because they’re different in ways that cover each other’s bases. It’s wonderful. Pink and Orange go well together. Green and Purple go well together. Mandarin and Sakko go well together. Also, they clearly trust each other. During almost the entirety of “Hidden Fortress” Sakko was presumably just chilling inside of Mandarin’s armor. Mandarin trusted him enough to have Sakko in a place where he’s able to mess with his cybernetics, and Sakko trusted Mandarin enough to go into the battlefield with him and probably get tossed around.

If they were both human and in a more modern media, then they would definitely be shipped in the straightest way you can get without actually being straight. The Straightest Gay Ship.

5. A Witch and her Accidental Evil Coworker

Characters: Skelemandarin, Valeena.

Type: Platonic, Romantic,

Explanation: These two have been through some shit. Skelemandy was made to serve Skeleton King only to have that purpose yanked away from him. Valeena was groomed to idolize and serve Skeleton King for nearly her entire life. They were forced together by SHEER CHANCE and they both hated it. Arguably they both died at some point.

They both have absolutely NOBODY they can trust so let’s make them trust each other. All hilarity and sweetness comes from that.

Their dynamic is so good that I have them on a blog for a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FANDOM and people love them with no context.

This is the only cross-species ship I have (besides chinmay and the antauri ships but that doesn’t count), but the fact that Skelemandy isn’t actually a monkey and needs no cybernetic assistance to be human-level sentient makes it a lot less weird. Just put them on equal ground power-wise (like by nerfing Valeena’s magic) and you have the ingredients for bonding.

They have like, no cute moments in canon, but that’s why we have fics and art. They have potential. I want them to help each other figure out who they are without their purpose. I want them to survive this horrible life together. I want them to figure out how to trust again. I want a lot but Valeena is fucking dead.

But she doesn’t have to be.

(Also Valeena is REALLY HOT and Skelemandarin is just me as a monkey)

6. Gay Dads

Characters: The Alchemist, Captain Shuggazoom

Type: Romantic, Platonic

Explanation: Oh my stars. Oh null. Oh me oh my hhougfhfakjghf. These two have the angst of Mantauri but on crack.

They only appeared in about two episodes each and all three episodes are top tier. They call each other “Friend” multiple times in their shared episode. THEY’RE FRIENDS!!!!!!!!! The face Al makes when he realizes that Cap is visiting makes me really happy. The fact that Cap had this whole Batman Double Life thing and he shows the Alchemist BOTH OF THEM is amazing. The alchemist is a hermit living in the woods and he lets Cap into that life.

There isn’t a lot shown, much less than everything else here. But that makes every single fanfic so much richer since they’re almost completely based on headcanons. Friends who have a mutual crush on each other but are No Homo about it? Secret boyfriends? Husbands with 6 monkey kids? An Old man and a grumpy Skeleton making it work? Literally just platonic friends? Dude, you can do whatever you want.

The tragedy of these two losing each other to one big horrible event crushes me. It influences my every move in my creative work. I have an entire character dedicated to reuniting these two in the most astronomical and ridiculous way possible because the alchemist angered the gods but she thinks he needs some company in his eternal punishment.

I want Clayton to unlock Al’s less serious, more fun side. I want them to work together. I want them to hold hands. GHGHGHDFBG UTTHTYE CNAZSNT EBCV ASUA ER

7. The girl power duo

Characters: Nova, Jinmay

Type: Familial

Explanation: These two were my only comfort during the uncomfortable nightmare that is “The Hills Have Five”

Nova was the one who trained Jinmay, and it seems like they hang out a lot offscreen in season 4. They fulfill the early 2000′s cartoon archetypes of girl and Girl, so they’re supposed to get along. If they didn’t I probably wouldn’t like Jinmay.

Nova is a really good big sister/parental figure to Jinmay, who never had any family to speak of.

Anyway, this entry has to be shorter because most of their bonding is in “The Hills Have Five” which is either #1 or #2 in my least favorite episode list. Not because it’s bad, but because it makes me viscerally uncomfortable. I really wish literally any other character than Jinmay was in her role in that episode. Or that the “taken to an offscreen area by an adult man while she screams” just wasn’t there. SHE’S 13!!! Nova did literally all she could to help.

I really like that scene in questionable where Valeena kills almost the entire gang. It’s what they deserve.

Look I just really like Jinmay and I always have. She deserves a good Mom.

8. "My Second In Command”

Characters: Antauri, Mandarin

Type: Theoretical

Explanation: The fandom has really made this ship go from “literally nothing to stand on” to “integral plot point in a lot of fics”. Seriously. I have TWO screenshots that vaguely imply these two ever stood next to each other on the battlefield. This was entirely title-based and fan-made until ProjectAfectivity interviewed Ciro. Yeah he knows Antauri but only as well as the rest of the team. Anyway. Wow. This ship.

This is by far the worst breakup in history. These two, despite what Antauri says, were on equal ground at some point. According to Ciro (and fan speculation), they trained together. This (and other Mandy ship) changes wildly depending on if you think Mandarin was corrupted by the portal or not. Maybe Mandarin was once a kind leader who just crossed the wrong boundaries and paid for it. He could’ve held Antauri gently before battle. He could’ve been the monkey Antauri went to when he needed someone to talk to. He could’ve hyped the team up like Chiro does.

Or maybe, they were constantly fighting against each other in small ways. An incredibly unhealthy relationship, yes, but an interesting story. I like stories where Antauri isn’t this all-knowing pillar of stability. He’s got weaknesses. One of them may have been Mandarin.

Now that’s a good nickname from one to the other.

Imagine Antauri, in a moment of complete trust, declaring Mandarin his weakness. A sweet sentiment. They both know the other is incredibly strong, and trust that the other would never take advantage of that connection. They love each other. Until...

9. "My Closest Ally”

Characters: Otto, Mandarin

Type: Theoretical

Explanation: Okay I'm looking at the screenshot I put for this entry while also having watched Evil Ages recently. My brain is making uncomfortable connections. Combine that with the fandom and the show’s general treatment of Otto and I’m about to slam my head into a wall. I really do not like that, but I feel like there’s somebody out there who does.

Anyway, this is Gibotto and Ottauri but with all the spice that shipping Mandarin with one of the other monkeys brings. When done well, it’s all the respecting Otto that comes with Ottauri and all the intimate partnership of Gibotto. And the Angst of Mantauri, but a lot more grounded.

It paints a lot of stories. A story of a single point of comfort in a world Mandarin thinks is out to get him. A story of powerful validation from the one authority in Otto’s life. Of letting your guard down. Of trust, then breaking that trust.

I’d LOVE to see some things with Mandottotauri because that’s epic and cool and poggers. Don’t see a lot, though.

10.The Hets, I guess.

Characters: Jinmay, Chiro.

Type: Romantic. Platonic. Canon.

Explanation: Look two entries on this list are polyamorous and four of them are mandarin so I have to say SOMETHING for the heteroes following me. Picked this ship over Spova because when I was a young child still suffering from comphet, I never watched the last episode of the show. I only saw up to season 3 at the most. This was the only canon ship for me. And out of all the ships, it’s the most relatable. I’m currently a teenager with black hair who looks really good in eyeliner dating a girl with pink hair who can pick me up and is unbelievably sweet. Except we’re gay and polyam. Wait a second I totally had a crush on Jinmay as a kid and now my gf is the Jinmay in this situation. Oh my god I was going to make this comparison if I did Spova too and I liked Nova.

ANYWAY

These are two LONELY kids. Chiro had bullies during school, and now he doesn’t even go to school. Jinmay hasn’t really had friends at all. Two kids with places in their universe that they aren’t too sure about, and just need someone to lean on. Their date was cute. They instantly bonded over their love of monkeys and I love that.

The super robot is sometimes an analog for Chiro, in the first two season at least, and the way the super robot held Jinmay’s hands to keep her steady on the COB while her head flew in was SO SWEET. Chiro’s instant recognition and reaction to Jinmay’s head being thrown at the team, as well. He really loves her.

I think it’d be interesting if she didn’t love him back, though. I might take a stab at writing that.

#srmthfg #super robot monkey team hyperforce go #srmthg #chinmay #Mandotto #Mantauri #Mandareena #Manokko #Captain Alchemist #Ottauri #Polymonkeys #Gibottarx #Anonymous

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bethsakura · 3 years

Text

currently untitled | prologue | atsumu x reader

A/N: Hiya, there! Beth here! I wanted to add a quick disclaimer because I’m absolutely terrible at starting stories =v= I tend to get a bit ahead of myself, so my apologies if the beginning of this feels awkward. That’s probably because I’m awkward and I’m really good at portraying that through my work :D

Anyhow, I really hope you all like this prologue! It’s basically just a bunch of set up for the initial story, but I tried to make it as interesting as possible >:3 If you want to follow along with the story through music, I have a playlist over on spotify! Each song roughly inspires the chapters, and it’s kind of how I figured out what I was going to write about. There isn’t a song for this first part, but i figured I’d go ahead and link it anyways ;P

Now, enough of my babbling. I really hope you enjoy the story!

Much love! - Beth

Prologue - A Strange Meeting

Miya Atsumu - the worst first impression you ever had of someone was attached to that name. When you first met him, you definitely thought he was one of the most annoying people on the face of the earth. Not that your opinion of him had changed much over time, but you had gotten to know him a bit better. Regardless, that initial meeting with the fiery boy was a memory you were sure could never leave you.

“Y/n, you need to choose a club,” stated your father one night at dinner. Your heart sank and your face turned red. A slight burning sensation began to build in your chest. Not one of passion, no; more so one filled with anxiety. It had been two weeks since the start of school and most of the clubs were established. To find one that was accepting new members would prove difficult.

You mentally screamed at yourself for taking your sweet time about this decision. On the first day of school, you were already busy with other commitments: going home and spending your precious time alone. Your goal in high school was to avoid friendships and focus on your studies. You had been burnt one too many times by those awful people in middle school, and there was no way you were going to let that happen again. People had tried talking to you, but you typically politely dismissed them.

“Y/n?” Your dad pulled you back from your racing thoughts. You shifted your weight in your seat a bit. Who on earth would be accepting new members at this time?

“I can try to find one. I, uh, might have waited until past the acceptance date, though…” you start, and your father scowls at you upon hearing this information. Your mother looks sympathetic towards you but disappointed, nonetheless. Something in your mind switches and you sit up straight in your seat. You cannot let them worry about this, you decide. You wouldn’t want them getting too involved in your school life. So, you dig some confidence from deep within you and declare, “I will find a club to join! Don’t worry about me, I’m sure someone is accepting new members!”

There was actually zero confidence in those words, but you couldn’t let them see that.

The next day you began asking around your class to see if anyone knew of clubs with open positions; and, just as you suspected, there were little to none.

As you sat at your desk you heaved a sigh and lay your head atop your books. You hit it a little harder than intended, but maybe someone would notice and offer some advice. You weren’t one to bring attention to yourself, but right now you desperately needed it.

And, of course, you were successful.

Someone made their way up to you and tapped you lightly on the shoulder. You craned your neck to the side, not lifting your head. A silver and black-haired boy with beautiful brown eyes stood before you, his face straight and posture being practically perfect. You were a tad intimidated by him, so you lifted your head and straightened up. “Hi,” you spoke softly.

“Hello. My name is Shinsuke Kita, a second-year here. You must be L/n F/n, yes?” he spoke concisely with a tone of authority. You had no clue who he was, but suddenly you wanted to impress him. You started to stare, lost in thought when you noticed his eyebrows furrow slightly.

“Oh, uh, yes. That’s me!” You said, nervously. You almost tripped over your words but caught yourself before it could happen. Good lord, what powers does this guy have?! You thought to yourself.

“I am part of the volleyball club and I was told to inform you we have a manager position open. Our team captain has said you are welcome to jo-”

“WHERE DO I SIGN UP?!” you blurted out as you stood up from your desk. Kita did not waver, standing perfectly still and holding eye contact with you the entire time. This guy must not be phased by anything, you thought to yourself. Kita then extended his arm out, handing you a paper. It read, ‘Inarizaki High School Volleyball Club Member Application.’ You bowed sweetly, taking the paper from him.

“Thank you very much! I’ll be sure to bring it to you by the end of the day!” you exclaimed, then sitting down you grabbed a pen and began to fill out the form.

“Feel free to stop by this evening. Practice begins about forty-five minutes after school. I’ll be in class 2-7 if you need anything,” said Kita. He gave a small wave and then walked out of the classroom calmly. That guy is terrifying, you thought to yourself. You then turned back to your paper and began scribbling as quickly as possible.

≻ ───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Before you knew it, the end of school hit. You gathered your belongings in a rush and then ran out of the classroom, making your way towards the gym. The wind flew through your hair, rustling it everywhere. You thought maybe it looked like you were in some shoujo manga, but in reality, it made you look like you hadn’t brushed your hair in five days.

Once you got to the gym you began to slow to a walk. It was only 3:20, and practice wouldn’t begin for another 40 minutes or so. I got so excited that I arrived way too early. Great job, Y/n. Now you look desperate, you thought to yourself. You prayed the gym was open so that you could at least sit in there for a little while and study or something. Your hand reached for the door handle and pulled ever so slightly. The door slid to your right and you heaved a sigh of relief. However, to your embarrassment, someone was already in the gym.

A tall boy, maybe around six feet or so, with an athletic stature, golden hair, and hazel eyes turned to meet your gaze. He was absolutely stunning. You thought maybe you had seen him before, but… well, he looked different than how you remembered him. His hair color seemed to be different in your memory, as well as the way he stood and-

“Take a picture if you must, but don’t stand there just starin’, miss,” said the boy with a bite in his words. Your eyes widened at his rude remark, and your stare only deepened. You didn’t move, held your breath, and just stood motionless in the doorway.

“Hello? Earth to miss girl?” He waved his hand. You didn’t budge. “Good lord, come in or stay outside, doesn’t matter to me either way. Just close the door,” he said, rolling his eyes. This got your attention. You stepped inside and made your way into the room, leaving the door wide open. I’ll jab at him just a little because that was completely uncalled for, you thought. He watched you walk down the court, making your way to a bench and sitting down, matter of factly. His expression was completely and totally disgusted.

“Oi, didn’t I say to close the door?” he huffed, making his way over to you. He stood before you, a hand on his hip and an annoyed look plastered across your face. You looked up at him, then stood up boldly. You then turned around and stood on the bench you were previously sitting on. You turned back to face him, both hands on your hips, leaning down to meet his gaze.

“You didn’t ask politely,” you said, a harsh tone in your words. He looked extremely flabbergasted, annoyed, and offended. You smirked, stood up straight, and crossed your arms. He then smirked in return. This slightly confused you, but you didn’t let him catch on to this.

“I like you,” he said, pointing up to you. You smiled brightly, still keeping the high ground over him. “Atsumu Miya, pleased to meetcha’. And you are?” He extended his hand out to help you down. You accepted the offer, hopping down from the bench. Not breaking the gaze.

“L/n, F/n. You can call me L/n. I don’t trust you yet with my first name,” you said, intending to jab at him a little. Of course, he retorted back with, “And you can call me Miya. Don’t trust ya yet with my first name.”

Laughter filled the nearly empty gym, and the two of you walked to the door together. “So, what class are ya in?” he asked.

“1-3. Yourself?” you said, a competitive tone in your voice. His face dropped slightly. He muttered under his breath, but you didn’t quite hear him. “Care to speak up, Miya?”

“...1-2,” he said in an embarrassed voice. You burst into laughter, being a bit dramatic with your reaction.

“Looks like I beat ya!” you exclaimed, throwing up a peace sign and smiling brightly. He rolled his eyes, scoffing at your happy go lucky attitude.

Wait a minute, what’s up with me? You thought to yourself. You let him go on to the door to close it, and you made your way back to the bench. I’m not a particularly competitive person. I’m not near this outgoing on a usual basis, either. Do these volleyball boys have some special powers or..?

“Oi, why are you here, anyway?” There he was again with that biting tone. You rolled your eyes and met his gaze once again. He seemed to be genuinely curious based on his expression. He didn’t seem to be angry or annoyed… What was with this guy?

“I’m going to be your new manager,” you said confidently. You didn’t know if the confidence was false or not, but you wanted to figure that out.

“Oh..?” Atsumu said curiously.

“Yes. I have my application in my bag, and today is my first day,” you replied.

“Well,” said the boy, smiling at you sweetly, “welcome to Inarizaki’s volleyball club. Try to keep up,” he said, winking.

A chill ran down your spine and a fire ignited in your chest. This time, it wasn’t one filled with anxiety. No, this one was most definitely one filled with passion.

#haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu!!#atsumu #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #fluff #angst #haikyuu fanfiction

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rumpledgoldenweaver · 3 years

Text

The Gold Boys

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling November prompt “Like Father, Like Son” this is a Storybrooke based AU that has been rattling around in my head for a while. When Rumple stabs Peter Pan he doesn’t die instead he turns back into Malcolm and stays that way. Since Bae/Neal and Henry are in town too, Rumple finds himself with more family than he knows what to do with.

He wasn’t hiding. Not really. Anyone could walk through the door of the shop, the little bell jangling their arrival and find him leaning on the counter. There was a cloth spread out over the glass top, a small bottle of silver polish and a second cloth that he was using to buff up every single piece he could find. Mindless, repetitive work. His spinning wheel stood motionless, he couldn’t face that. Far too many memories of times far too long ago that he didn’t want to think about for now. No, he could retreat back into his Mr Gold persona. Pawnbroker, landlord and loan shark. Mr Gold didn’t need to concern himself with the return of errant fathers, long lost sons, new found grandsons and a girlfriend. Mr Gold didn’t need family and the complications that came with it.

And for as long as he could get away with pretending that suited Rumpelstiltskin just fine.

Neal Cassidy wasn’t hiding either. No Ma’am, he was seated at the counter of Granny’s Diner nursing a cup of coffee in full view of anyone passing by. He opened up the Angry Birds app on his phone, firing pissed off birds at smug looking pigs. You wouldn’t know to look at him that he was the son of the Dark One, father of the boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer (don’t forget the capital letters) and grandson of Peter Pan – Malcolm as he was now known. It sounded ordinary in comparison. But then so did Neal when you stood it next to Balefire.

A pixalated pig exploded when a cartoon piece of timber fell on it’s head, he smiled in satisfaction. Bae would have been fascinated by the game. But Bae wasn’t there. Neal Cassidy was and for now he too could pretend that his real personality didn’t exist.

Malcolm had no choice but to hide. After his disastrous defeat at the hands of his son, being unceremoniously turned back into an adult and finding that blaming his alter ego for everything wasn’t going to work, he’d holed up in a room at the inn called Granny’s – what kind of name for an establishment was that anyway? - and there he had stayed. There wasn’t a cursed or invented persona to provide him with knowledge as to how this land without magic worked. He lay on the bed and sighed. Most of the basics seemed the same, a bed was a bed, a table was a table, water was water. The bathroom had been a revelation. Instead of an iron tub in front of the fire, there was some fancy looking contraption called a shower – it reminded him of a waterfall and a thing called a toilet that he really didn’t trust. What was wrong with a good old fashioned hole in the ground or a nearby tree?

He did know he couldn’t avoid his son forever. Or his grandson. Or his great grandson. People he’d traded away in exchange for eternal youth. If he was very honest he’d admit that it hadn’t all been a barrel of laughs and that he was, very deep down, relieved to be himself again. Malcolm wasn’t given to honesty though.

Henry was beside himself with excitement. He had a father, a grandpa and a great grandpa! None of their stories were fully complete in his book and now a golden opportunity had presented itself for him to find out all the facts. He reckoned his mothers would be fine with him talking to his dad and his grandpa but Peter.. Malcolm.. not so much. Frowning he began tapping his pen on the notebook that lay open on his bed. This was an operation and as such it needed a name. There were so many names involved – Gold, Cassidy, Swan, Mills and whatever Malcolm’s surname was.. Pan? Henry crossed his mothers names off. He knew about them. Staring at the list one name stood out to him above all the others. He smiled.

Operation Gold Boys.

“Henry for the tenth time I am absolutely positive your Grandpa won’t mind you asking him questions. In fact I’m sure it’ll make his day. Talk to him really nicely and he might show you some of the old Dark One razzle dazzle”

Henry snorted a laugh as his dad made a weird looking gesture with his arms

“I’m a little out of practice” Bae pushed open the door to his father’s shop and ushered his own son inside “Hi Papa”

Rumple’s smile could have illuminated the entire town “Hello Bae! Hi Henry. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure”

“Henry has questions for you. About your life” Bae winced slightly as the same smile froze but carried on anyway “I said you’d be okay with it and that he should talk to Belle too since she knew you after I….left…”

That earned him an eye roll from Henry. Seriously grown ups. Little wonder everyone still clung to their old scores and rivalries. How could anyone move on when they couldn’t even have a simple conversation.

“What Dad means is…”

“It’s okay Henry, I know what he means and no I don’t mind you asking providing that depending on the question I might choose not to answer”

“Deal” grinned Henry pulling a notebook from his coat pocket and setting it down on the counter “Now then…”

Despite his misgivings Rumple answered all of his grandson’s questions, he particularly enjoyed reminiscing about his days back in village with Bae and making his son squirm by regaling tales of his youthful misdeeds. Henry listened in wonderment, his father’s childhood different to his own although he could sympathise completely with having a vilified practitioner of dark magic for a parent.

Some of the memories perhaps should have stayed put, however Henry listened without judgement. It seemed as if it all happened to someone else, Rumple merely the narrator, like reading from a book or interpreting a dream. All a long long time ago, in a place far far away.

Bae stayed quiet for the most part both amazed and amused at how his papa opened up to the young boy. The one he’d been convinced would be his downfall. There were stories that he had never heard before, like the real reason his father had needed a walking staff. It made his heart clench as well as his stomach to think the man had dropped an enormous mallet on his foot and then walked home, branded a coward so that he could be there for the son he’d never even met at that point. The same son he’d taken a dark curse to save from the same battlefields fighting the same enemy. The same son he’d torn realms apart to search for just so he could apologise and tell him he loved him. Me. He did all that for me. Maybe Belle was right. Maybe he wasn’t beyond hope. Bae levelled his gaze at the floor, casually wiping at his eyes.

After they’d gone Rumple retreated into the back room, he gave the spinning wheel a push, it turned a couple of circles before slowing to a stop. He sat down, picked up a bundle of straw and began threading it through the machine, losing himself in the spin of the wheel.

“I could never get that hang of that”

Rumple turned to see his father standing just inside the curtain that divided the back room from the shop.

“You didn’t have the patience”

“Couldn’t sit still for long enough”

“Indeed”

They lapsed into heavy silence that lasted maybe a couple of minutes but seemed more like hours.

It was Malcolm who spoke first

“So laddie, do you have anything decent to drink?”

Rumple paused for a whole minute before getting up from the wheel, going over to his desk, pulling a bottle of single cask whiskey and two glasses from the bottom drawer. Pouring two measures, his own slightly smaller, being tipsy around his father would not be a good idea.

“What do you want Papa?” there was a sarcastic tinge to the last word.

“To spend some time with my son”

Thankfully Rumple’s glass remained safely on the desk because if he’d been holding it he would have either smashed it into his fathers face or dropped on the floor.

“Ha! Well it took you bloody long enough but what’s almost three hundred years between family eh? Now that I’m not such a drain on your time and money you’ve decided to be one on mine is that it?”

“There’s no need for that laddie…”

“My name” Rumple spat “is not laddie. It’s Rumple Bloody Stiltskin, the longest, most ungodly name anyone has ever been saddled with” his eyes blazed making Malcolm take a couple of steps backwards.

“I was angry” he spluttered

“I was a child and you abandoned me”

“I left you with those spinster women. They looked after you. Kept you fed. You turned out alright besides you can’t talk about being abandoned. You did the same to Bae. Like father like son eh laddie”

Suddenly Malcolm felt the air rush from his lungs, his body propelled backwards by an unseen force, slamming into the wall. He tried to protest but forming words was impossible. He clawed at his throat desperately trying to find a breath.

“Don’t you dare” snarled Rumple advancing on the prone figure “Don’t you BLOODY DARE. I am nothing like you. NOTHING. I took the dagger to save my son from a war. You took your curse to avoid your responsibilities. Because you didn’t like being a grown up. BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT ME!!”

“Papa that’s enough” Bae’s voice cut through the room but Rumple didn’t seem to hear him. He laid a hand on his father’s shoulder “I said that’s enough”

Malcolm dropped unceremoniously to floor. Rumple staggered backwards, Bae guided him to a chair “I’m sorry son. I lost my temper. I…”

“Shh. Papa it’s okay. It’s okay”

Malcolm groaned, trying to push himself up “A little help here eh”

Balefire and Rumple exchanged a look. The younger man went to assist his grandfather whilst Rumple tried to get his composure back. He knew he shouldn’t have lashed out, it’s probably the reaction his father was looking for. Always pushing to see how many lines could be crossed. He wiped his hand over his face “I apologise papa. I shouldn’t have done that”

Malcolm looked flustered, that wasn’t what he’d expected, his son was the Dark One and not known for showing remorse. He nodded “No harm done lad…son”

Bae smiled his approval.

“Stay still Papa and I’ll send you home” Rumple made to wave his hand.

“Wait! Can I come and see you tomorrow? I er I have know idea how this world works and I think I need new clothes. The only other person here dressed anything like me is that bloody pirate”

“I suppose we can’t have that now can we” Rumple almost smiled “We’ll organise you something more appropriate in the morning”

Malcolm was engulfed in a cloud of red smoke and disappeared. Bae was still smiling at him “I’m proud of you Pop”

Perhaps Rumple mused in his case it wasn’t like father like son but more a father trying to be more like his son.

Read it on my blog here https://earlyrisingwriting.home.blog/2020/12/02/the-gold-boys/

#a monthly rumbelling #november #gold family fic #papafire

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

mob boss billy falls for trust fund brat Steve

I’m going combine this with an anon request I got that’s similar.

anonymous asked:

Mafia Boss Billy fucking his worst rivals aka Mr Harringtons son, Steve, them both knowing who they are, but not giving a shit about it. Steve just really loves to get fucked by that thick cock of Billy’s and he doesn’t care that his own father hates the guy 👀

So there’s some fucking, some general violence, bad things happen and are bad, murder boyfriend energy.

Read on ao3

Billy Hargrove was infamous around Chicago.

The Hargrove Family was well established, ran the fucking streets for decades the title of Boss being handed father to son.

Neil Hargrove had groomed his son from a young age, kept him in the room to observe as he spoke to his dogs. Explained the precise techniques he used for torture. The first time he made Bill kill a man, hold a gun to his head and pull the trigger, Billy was twelve.

Billy was Neil’s favorite attack dog.

He could just say his name and strike absolute fear in the hearts of anyone who heard it, anyone who was threatened with it.

Billy was known for having cold eyes, a heart of steel. Rumor is, he killed his own father to take over the company, had an expensive funeral for him.

He took over the large office, headed up the businesses they used as a front.

Pictures would surface of him in expensive clubs, doing lines of coke off strippers, letting twinks sit in his lap, suck him off while he lazily sipped expensive whiskey.

Steve Harrington was a brat.

The Harrington family ran Indianapolis, Cincinnati, and were building themselves in St. Louis.

They were the Hargroves’ biggest rivals, had been encroaching on their stake in Chicago, had plans to take over as much of the midwest as possible.

Mr. Harrington had never been afraid to use his son as a bargaining chip.

Steve was pretty, but he was a simpering idiot according to his father. Only good to be thrown to the enemy, with a promise he’d do anything.

He’d been fucked over plenty of desks, had been tied up in grand penthouses, choked on the cocks of the bosses his dad wanted ally-ships with. The Harrington Family owed the establishment of their branch in Cleveland to Steve’s asshole and his willingness to be choked.

When Steve first met Billy, they were unaware of the other.

Steve had been on a bender, blowing through his father’s money after the settlement of a partnership in Detroit. He was in Chicago, being watched by two of his father’s men, the two had been assigned to Steve when he was young, keeping a close watch on him.

Billy had watched the pretty boy stumble into the club, the lights dim, the music low, base-heavy.

Steve was out of his mind when he slammed into the broad chest, had gazed up into sharp blue eyes, tugged a blond curl that had escaped the bun at the crown of his head.

Billy took him home that night, had fucked the rich brat in his silk sheets, on his dresser, on his bearskin rug, over his desk, against the shower wall.

They exchanged phone numbers the next morning when Steve hunted down his clothes, called his car around.

They started meeting up every time Steve made his way to Chicago, happening more and more often as he started to want Billy more and more.

But after a few months, Steve noticed some mail, envelopes addressed to William Hargrove.

“You’re, you’re a Hargrove.”

“You know the name?”

“You know the Harrington name?”

“Course I do, those assholes keep creeping on my turf.”

“Yeah well, I’m one of them.” He held out his hand. “Steve Harrington. Nice to meet you.” Billy just laughed, pulling Steve into him by his outstretched hand.

“Unfortunately, I don’t care. Wouldn’t give up that tight little hole for nothing.”

They kept fucking, keeping it behind closed doors, in secret. Steve didn’t want his father to know, thought he’d try to use him as leverage to get Chicago. Steve was happy, letting himself be in something close to a relationship for the first time in his entire life.

But then his father had a request, was ready to send him to Columbus to reason with a client.

He had opened his mouth, complained to Billy and the man he was supposed to meet with was found dead in Lake Erie two weeks later, the mangled body had to be identified by dental records.

Mr. Harrington is livid.

He knew Hargrove had something to do with this, thought maybe he had sabotaged the deal, not that he had killed to protect whatever was left of Steve’s honor.

Steve was in Chicago the next day, booked a flight the minute he heard the news of the body in the lake. Had shown up at Billy’s apartment in a long coat, nothing underneath. Billy slammed him against the closed door, kissed him fiercely while peeling the coat off him.

“Can’t believe, can’t believe you killed a man for me.”

“That freak you out?” He lifted Steve up, his legs wrapping around Billy’s waist as Steve fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

“No. It’s, God that’s so hot, Bill.”

“He begged for his life. I really took my time, made sure he knew he was gonna die just for thinkin’ about touchin’ you.” Billy set him on the leather couch, settled himself between Steve’s legs. “I’m the only one that gets to touch you. Gets to fuck you.” He ground his hips down, biting at Steve’s ear, growling in it. “You’re mine, Princess.” Steve moaned as they moved together, their cocks sliding together, hard and hot.

“Bill, want you to fuck me. Claim me.” Billy stood off the couch, forced Steve down onto the floor, face pressing into the soft rug, ass in the air, silver plug visible.

Billy pulled it out, loved watching the way Steve stretched around the thickness of it, the way his hole fluttered when it was gone, leaving him empty, wet with lube.

Billy spat on it.

“This little hole is mine. Mine to open up, mine to fuck.” He pressed his cock in, sighing at the velvet heat around him. He went hard and fast, hands rough on Steve’s hips to keep him steady, slammed into this hard enough to bruise, the sound of their skin slapping together, Steve’s loud moans, his own grunts all he could hear. “Would kill for this hole, have killed for this hole. For, for you, Princess.”

Steve came on the rug below him, hand flying over his dick, crying out as he tightened around Billy, muscles going stiff before collapsing, breathing heavily into the rug. Billy never slowed his pace, kept slamming into Steve, chasing his orgasm.

“Come inside. Only, only person I’ve, ever let fill me up.” That threw Billy right over the edge. He shoved his way in a few more times, cumming deep in that fluttering little hole. He flopped next to Steve, chest heaving as Steve rolled on top of him.

His fingers drifted down, two pressing back into Steve, keeping him full.

“You really never let anyone cum inside you?”

“No. Didn’t trust anyone enough not to use a condom. “

Billy’s mind short-circuited at the idea that Steve trusts him.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve looked at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What, what’s wrong?”

“I think I fucking, love you.” Steve’s face was blank.

“No shit, Idiot. You tortured and killed a guy that was hypothetically going to fuck me.”

Billy laughed, Steve shifting around on top of him as his chest moved with it.

“God, Stevie. I really went ham on the guy too. Like, really went to town.”

“And the whole time you were doing that, you didn’t once think maybe this about more than fucking?”

“I really didn’t.” He was giggling. “How long did you know?”

“When I heard they pulled that body out of Lake Erie. Your family has no ties to the Camorra family. There was no reason for you to off him, except me.”

“Was it too big a gesture?”

“Nah. Don’t mind a little death. it’s all part of the gig.” He put his head back down. “For the record, I love you too. In case you didn’t already know.” Billy kissed the top of his head.

“I almost went after your father, too.” Steve was quiet for a moment. Billy was worried he’d gone too far, said too much.

“Let me know if you do. I wanna watch.”

#yikes writes #holy god this is my 900th post #lemons #harringrove #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #mob au #mob boss billy #bratty steve

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years

Text

Beyond a Seasonable Doubt

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T Word count: 7478 @spideychelleweek

Spideychelle Week Day 2: Soulmate AU

Summary: Peter's been living in winter for 17 years. A single smile from his soulmate would bring him into spring. Today, he finally has a real conversation with MJ, the girl he's pretty sure is the one.

Every day, Peter Parker wakes up certain of three things: that he won’t leave himself enough time to finish his cereal, that he should dress for snow, and the (probable) identity of his soulmate.

Ok, the first one’s not a certainty per say―sometimes he has microwave oatmeal or blueberry toaster waffles―but the second one’s been true his whole life. Every single day, for the past seventeen years and change, he’s been swaddled for winter weather. Could be January when he’s three years old and his puffy snowsuit looks totally appropriate as his mom pushes him down a slushy sidewalk in his stroller. Could be August 10th just last year and he’s wearing a woolen fisherman sweater (inherited from his Uncle Ben) and two pairs of socks to his own birthday pool party. Until his soulmate is confirmed, he won’t be part of the regular changing of the seasons that, up to this point, he’s only heard about and seen pictures and video of. For all intents and purposes, in Peter’s world, it’s winter. Some people say the date they’re stuck on bothers them. Personally, he doesn’t know how it could, since he’s never known anything different. You just have to layer up and get on with it.

His arm’s deep in his backpack, feeling around for the scarf he could swear he stuffed in there yesterday, as he walks into the kitchen. It’s a rare day; both Happy and May are at the table, working from home today. With ambivalence to the inevitability that he’ll be dumping half of it in the sink, Peter starts in on his Cheerios. He’s less apathetic about watching his dining companions. They haven’t had the easiest path, so he studies them for clues. May’s first soulmate was Uncle Ben. That’s not up for debate. Within 24 hours of when they met, the seasons adjusted themselves and two more people joined the rest of the world’s matched soulmates in enjoying the proper rotation of the earth around the sun. After Ben’s death, May told Peter that the seasons continued to change for her, but they slowed. Once a couple of years passed, there was a noticeable lag. She fell out of step with the world. When Happy came on the scene, things got back on track. Voilà, soulmate number two. From what Peter’s read, it’s not that unusual to find another soulmate if you lose your first, but honestly, he’d be happy just to get one.

May and Happy are dressed for mid-spring.

“Rain today?” Peter wonders, spooning Cheerios into his mouth.

“It’s holding off for now,” his aunt informs him.

When he turns to look out the window, there’s a cottony haze of thick snowflakes, like all of Queens is having a pillow fight on the rooftops. He sighs with acceptance rather than despair. Nothing was going to change overnight. It couldn’t, not without her, whoever she is. (He thinks he knows.)

“Cool.”

He leaves in a rush, slopping milk into the sink, and pulling on a hat.

A season isn’t much of a clue, but that’s not exactly how everyone experiences their pre-soulmate life. Instead of cycling through an entire spring, for example, and then starting again, each person exists in the weather as it was on the day their soulmate was born. The universe was kinda against Peter from the first. Snow, in his mind, goes with winter, but of course, in their New York climate, snow isn’t trapped between the boundaries of December and March. It wasn’t until he got his second clue that he figured out the first. The second clue was that this one girl would never smile at him. Soulmates need to smile at each other. That’s it. Just smile and everything else falls into place. No more dressing for the same temperature every day or involuntarily shivering when they see people in shorts and t-shirts in a world they observe to be covered in snow. Most people who haven’t found their soulmate yet smile a lot, trying to catch everyone’s eye, in the hope of locating the right person, so the fact that this one girl refused to smile at him (and continues to refuse) made Peter curious―curious enough to do some research to find out her birthday. End of November. Meaning autumn, not winter. He checked the weather for the year he was born, assuming he’s got the right girl and they share a birth year. Bingo. Big cold front, unexpectedly heavy snowfall that day. Plus, this girl dresses like it’s the peak of summer, which fits with when his birthday is, and he’s never seen her wear an outfit for cooler weather or hang around with any one person in particular (soulmates, especially those his age, tend to cling).

So, the third certainty. Peter’s pretty sure he knows who his soulmate is. What he doesn’t know is why the hell Michelle Jones won’t smile at him.

―

Every day, Michelle Jones wakes up certain of three things: that the inevitable sweat patches in the armpits of her uniform shirt will aid her in bullying Coach Wilson into letting her sit out during gym, that Peter Parker is her soulmate, and that she’d really prefer that he wasn’t.

People think she’s rude, which is maybe correct in the effect she has on them but not in the intention of her actions. She doesn’t like acting a certain way because it’s how she’s supposed to act. She doesn’t like etiquette, she doesn’t like rules, and she doesn’t like soulmates. Doesn’t want one, doesn’t need one. It’s an opinion adults condescendingly informed her she’d grow out of―as if accepting that she’s being denied free will is the kind of thing she’d mature into―until she quit voicing it. People love the system as long as they believe it’s working for them. What’s childish, as far as MJ is concerned, is placing complete faith in something as pervasive as soulmates simply because it seems too big to fail. That expression always makes her think of the Titanic.

She knows it’s not the cotton candy fantasy everyone wants to believe it is, and she’s not just disillusioned because she wakes up to a heatwave every day and has to carry deodorant with her all the time. Like most people, she was born the child of two soulmates. They met, they smiled, they took the soulmate bait, hook, line, and sinker. And then, even though they loved each other and got married and made MJ, her mom became mildly depressed. Her doctor thought it was the consequence of the seasons. MJ’s dad was a late-April baby, so maybe her mom was just one of those people who took longer to get used to variations in temperature and hours of daylight. The doctor thought she’d snap out of it when winter ended and nice weather came again. The problem was that MJ’s mom packed up and left in February. MJ’s never going to know for sure if it was the weather that made her go, but she does know that the soulmate bond wasn’t enough to make her mom stay. It taught her that, if a person’s determined enough, they can override destiny.

So she’s thankful to her mom, wherever she is, for that.

Based on her motives for distrusting the soulmate influence, the reason she doesn’t want Peter should be because she doesn’t want anybody, but no, it’s him in particular that MJ’s pretty much convinced she could do without. He’s smart, funny on occasion and mostly by accident, and he’s experienced family tragedy that’s different from hers, so they could connect over their messed-up pasts without too much overlap. All of that is more than she wants to deal with. If the universe attempted to shack her up with some trust-fund-having, loafer-wearing, future-frat-house-keg-meister, she could’ve worked with that. She would’ve smiled at the silver-spoon-suckling to confirm they were soulmates, then let that puppy-dog trail her from protest to protest while she told him when to pull out his chequebook and how many zeros to put down. There would’ve been a clear, Robin Hoodian purpose to that relationship. There’s not a point to Peter, besides him being someone she could very probably, very quickly fall in love with. Obviously, she can’t do that because soulmates are bullshit and true love is a con and long-term monogamy is a doomed enterprise.

…And she’s going to be late for her first class, Biology. Ugh, Peter always does this to her―intentionally walks slow to try to trick her into catching up with him. All that does is make MJ take a longer route and misjudge how quickly she needs to move. She wishes he’d knock it off. He’s backed off on a lot of other things for her sake (that’s an assumption based on observation because, of course, she’s never initiated a conversation with him), like sitting across from her in the cafeteria and dropping out of marching band (he plays trombone, she plays euphonium, and the brass section was too cozy a space for successfully avoiding someone). That second one was a waste because she was about to quit anyway, so now neither of them are in it and the whole band’s off balance. Too many fucking flautists. If Peter would commit to doing one or the other―pestering her or ignoring her―that would be convenient, but he’s inconsistent and she’s annoyed.

Oh, here’s another thing that happens every day: MJ hopes her displeasure will protect her from the urge to smile at the adorable, well-intentioned pain in her neck that destiny wants to tie her to until one of them drops dead or, marginally less dramatic, runs out on the young family they’ve created. It really pisses her off that Peter seems like he’ll be a great dad in another decade or two.

“Hey, MJ,” he says, when she finally makes it to Bio and slides behind the lab desk in front of his.

“Kiss my ass, Parker,” she mutters back.

He’s the reason for the sweat running down her spine. MJ pinches the front of her t-shirt and flaps it away from her skin, trying to stimulate enough airflow to make it through the period.

―

“You could trick her into smiling at you,” Ned suggests. They’re sitting together at lunch and Peter has a glumness hangover from MJ ignoring him (again) that morning.

“Babe,” Betty admonishes.

“Babe, he’d only feel bad if MJ really is his soulmate. If she’s not, then at least they know for sure and they can quit being weird with each other.”

“I’m not being weird with her,” Peter objects. “I’m just being nice! And I told you, I know it’s her.”

“You get that feeling?” Ned checks. “That warm feeling like I got the first time I saw Betty’s beautiful face?”

“Aw, babe!”

Their arms are already linked as they eat, but now Betty lays her head on her soulmate’s shoulder. If they get much closer, she’ll be in Ned’s lap, at which point Peter will have to make himself scarce. Though love is cute, it’s also kind of an affliction with a lot of messy symptoms.

“I don’t feel like I’m doing anything wrong!” he blurts out in frustration, jabbing at the salad May made him for lunch. “How could we be so incompatible?”

“You’re not though,” Betty counters. “You’re totally compatible.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t even taken the first step.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t think of it as the first step,” Ned suggests, being all wise.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked cautiously.

“Babe, you couldn’t be more correct,” Betty gushes. Peter sighs impatiently. He shouldn’t―they’re trying to help him―but it’s hard having paired up friends while his own soulmate stays just out of reach.

“Elaborate please,” he prompts.

He shifts in place and shivers when he accidentally moves out of the space his butt’s been warming. Meanwhile, here are Ned and Betty in their lightweight sweaters and sneakers. Peter’s boots clomp under the table.

“Well,” Ned posits, “isn’t confirming you’re soulmates more like the final step? You’ve done your waiting and now you get to be together?” Betty kisses his cheek in agreement.

“Maybe,” Peter allows.

“If you accept that confirming your bond isn’t the very next step, then you can start considering what is the next step. What do you think that might be, Peter?” Betty asks.

“I should… get MJ to tell me why she isn’t ready or interested in confirming it. In a respectful way that doesn’t pressure her,” he adds when Betty narrows her eyes judgementally.

“And how do you plan to achieve that?”

“Babe,” Ned intercedes, “let’s give him a minute to think about it.”

Peter tries to do that while he finishes his lunch. There are a lot of vegetables in here and they’re seasonal, just not for the season he’s experiencing. May’s always trying to load him up with vitamin-rich foods, since most of his day’s snowy; the clouds clear for a while around the time he gets out of school, allowing him some sun on his face as long as he doesn’t dawdle or land in detention. That train of thought makes him realize that detention would be the perfect place to talk this out with MJ, except that he’s against Ned’s plan of tricking her into becoming his soulmate and making sure she landed in detention with him would probably involve tricking. He knows she used to hang out there voluntarily from time to time, but not since they became aware of their connection. Now, she seems to avoid any place she might get stuck in and be cornered by Peter.

Ugh! He’s so ready to love and be loved! It’s super awesome to have people to love and worry about and have breakfast with. Love and breakfast are precious, in Peter’s opinion, and so is time. Getting enough of it isn’t something to be depended upon. After his parents and then Uncle Ben, he can’t trust quantity―he gives and gets quality love these days. He doesn’t know everything about Michelle Jones, but he’d like her to understand that, the irreplaceable value she represents to him. If she’d just be a plain envelope, he’d do all the work; put on the stamp, write out the address, compose the note it would hold. Right now, she’s like a sheet of paper, he guesses, one that they fold up into an envelope. She hasn’t been cut out or had that gross glue strip applied and it seems like it might be a long time before she’s ready for a letter or, like, a Happy Bar Mitzvah card. MJ might not want to be his envelope person, or she just might not know the things he could be for her (glue-licking, stamp-applying, Mazel Tov!-writing). If she at least knows, then he’ll concede that he’s done everything he can. If she knows, it’ll hopefully be enough for her to make a decision. Peter can’t force her to decide in his favour, but even if she understands and decides that she needs another five years before she wants to talk to him about the probability of their being soulmates and maybe revisit the smiling thing, he’ll know something too. Waiting is really tough.

―

“Don’t smile at me,” Peter requests, both hands up, when MJ shuts her locker to see him standing there.

She rolls her eyes. Nothing about the one person she’s actively avoiding hanging out at a place she has to be makes her want to smile. Did he decide that if he couldn’t be her soulmate he’d settle for being her stalker?

…Probably not. He’s way too good a person for that. Seriously, she tries to make these made-up accusations stick to him, but he’s just not that guy. That doesn’t mean she accepts, likes, or appreciates this latest move to get her attention.

“Are you trying reverse psychology now?” MJ demands.

“I’m just trying to make it extra clear that, whatever your reasons are for not smiling, I respect them.” He shrugs his shoulders and she glances down at the lunchbox he’s carrying. She wonders what he ate today.

“What if I’m not smiling because I’m plotting a bank heist in my head? Do you respect that? Do you respect theft, Peter?”

His expression is so satisfyingly startled that she almost does smile. No, fuck this. There are only ten minutes or so left in the lunch hour and she can wander the halls until the next class starts. She goes to step around him, but their shoulders brush and she feels something. It’s more aggressive than the welcoming warmth the bond (that’s what she attributes it to) usually makes her feel when she sees him. This is pure affection and it’s really hard to put her back to it. MJ pauses, facing away from Peter, and she’s almost got the new feeling under control when he turns and starts walking beside her.

“I think we can figure this out,” he says eagerly. Dammit. His enthusiasm for learning is one of the traits she finds most attractive in him. Can’t he just lay off with that fucking fated appeal?

“I think I already have,” she shoots back, not looking at him. “The universe wants to play sock puppets and guess what? We’re the sock puppets.”

“Look,” Peter says. He’s shockingly persistent today as he jumps in front of her and catches her eye. “We don’t have to play by its rules. We can make our own.”

“You wanna be with me?” she asks point-blank. Her chin jerks up instinctively when she questions him, eyes appraising. Either the question or the blunt stare makes him blush.

“Yeah, I, I think I probably do.”

“You want me to fall in love with you? For us to get married? Live together? Have kids? Me and you against the world, forever?”

“Maybe?”

“Well, you can’t just want one thing, Peter,” MJ tells him. Her fingers grip hard at the books in her hands. “There’s no shallow end of the soulmate bond. Its plan is not for us to casually date and let things plateau if it doesn’t work out.”

“But it would work out.” Poor thing looks confused.

“Says who?”

He shrugs.

“Everybody.”

“Check your sources.”

She hangs a left into the girls’ bathroom before Peter can respond, but he’s waiting in the hall when she returns.

“You can’t ignore it,” is the first thing he says to her, pushing off the wall. This time, MJ plants her feet.

“Or you, apparently, if you keep stalking me.”

“I’m not trying to. I just want us―”

“To talk,” she finishes for him. “Which is pointless. You’re not going to gain any ground with me, Peter. I have no ground for you to gain on this issue.”

“Maybe, if you told me why you won’t smile, you’ll feel better.”

“I feel fine.”

“You do not. You’re trying not to let someone care a lot about you when it’s guaranteed that they would. He would. I would,” Peter rambles. He takes a deep breath and looks her firmly in the eye. “Isn’t that, like, the one thing everybody wants? To be able to count on someone caring?”

“I’m not broken just because I don’t want what everybody wants,” she bites back, feeling herself flush with annoyance and, beneath that, embarrassment at being assessed.

“I would never call you broken,” he swears in a quiet voice. He is not going to make her tear up right now. She’s softening though, she can feel it. Stupid sincere soulmate. “I mean, if anything, I’m broken, so I could never judge, even if I wanted to. I know people try hard to find their perfect match, but I feel greedy sometimes with how badly I want it to happen to me. I know it’s not fair to you, I’ve been coming to terms with―”

“You’re not broken, Peter. Wanting someone to love you doesn’t make you broken. Or, if it does, then most people are. You’re not alone just because you don’t have me.”

Clearly, the time to stop herself was one sentence sooner. Because the jerk smiles at her and the next thing she does is agree to discuss this further after school.

―

There was something she said, while they were talking after lunch, that has him considering their potential as platonic soulmates well into third period. That’s what soulmates are for some people―they want all of the kindness and support of the bond with none of the romance, and the universe gives them what they need. When MJ said that stuff about marriage and babies and forever, Peter began contemplating whether they could achieve the third thing without the first two. Almost immediately, he ruled it out. He knew what attraction felt like. Sure, being soulmates was probably influencing him towards MJ, but she wasn’t the only person he found attractive. He used to have a crush on Liz. One day, when his Business class was on a field trip and it rained, he saw Flash with all the product washed out of his hair and was attracted to him (right up until Flash made a few loud comments about getting ‘Penis’ out of the cold weather before he shriveled up).

The conclusion he comes to is clear: Peter’s definitely hot for MJ. While marriage can wait, falling dizzily, hopelessly in love―and properly, in the kind of love they could have with their soulmate bond confirmed―is something he can only ever half-heartedly postpone. He wants to give her presents with love on her birthday. He wants to hug her and feel a new kind of complete. He wants to be her Valentine.

When Peter sees MJ hanging back to wait for him once the final bell rings, he’s relieved. Then tense. Not screwing this up might literally be the most important thing in his future. Trying to reassure her that he isn’t planning some sort of ambush to force a smile out of her, he suggests they talk someplace where other people will be around. She flat-out refuses to go to a coffee shop with him because it would be way too date-like. (Yeah, he gets that, picturing an awkward moment in which he attempts to pay for both their orders, or their shoes bump under the table.) They agree on the gym, where the girls’ indoor soccer team is having practice. Together―him in flannel-lined jeans and her in shorts―they thud up the bleachers to sit at the very top. MJ catches her foot and Peter notices that, when he instinctively reaches out to steady her, she shies away with a regretful look on her face. He really doesn’t expect her to explain, but then she does as they sit down.

“It does something to me,” she says, jerking her head as though to reference their near-contact.

Peter shrugs.

“Yeah, me too, but I’ve never been trying to avoid that feeling. I’ve gotten used to, like, um,” he stammers, “leaning into it. But I’m sorry. I won’t touch you.”

“Well, you know that I have the opposite habit.” MJ takes a deep breath, and Peter gets the sense that this would be the moment for her to be vulnerable with him and explain why she works so hard to ignore him. Ultimately, volunteering that information appears to be too much of an emotional effort. She decides to ask, “Is that something you’re interested in knowing more about?”

“Anything you wanna tell me,” he says quickly. He’s been waiting forever for this opportunity. “You can ask me things too. Open book.”

“I’m… not used to just spilling stuff about my life.”

He considers that.

“Why’d you say yes to this?”

She sighs and leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Then, she cups her face in her hand and turns to meet his eye.

“I’m tired of the way seeing you is always such a big deal. The bond says it’s wonderful and my brain hates it. I don’t want to be so torn all the time.”

“So…” he begins uncertainly. “Which outcome are you hoping for? Thinking I’m wonderful or hating my guts?”

The speed with which MJ turns her face away from him makes him wonder if she’s hiding a smile. He wasn’t trying to be funny.

“Quit twisting my words,” she requests, straight-faced as she stares straight ahead to where the soccer players are booting around what looks like an oversized tennis ball. “I didn’t say I hate you.”

“Just your brain.”

“Mhmm. My brain hates the idea of you.”

“MJ,” Peter says earnestly. She looks at him. “Why?”

“You control my whole life!” she says abruptly. “I’m sweating from climbing these stupid bleachers because of you. I have the urge to smile right now, when I’m irritated, because of you. Your existence tells me what to wear even when I’m not with you and how to feel whenever I see you.”

“I’m sorry―”

“And I can’t even seriously blame you because it’s not actually your fault!”

The girls’ team has quit weaving and shooting the ball, heading and passing it. Peter gets that MJ wanted a public place, but now he knows they’re being eavesdropped on. He’s quiet, though not because of the potential listeners; he doesn’t want to stop MJ from saying whatever she might tell him next. He’s been longing to hear her thoughts for ages.

“And that’s just, like, surface stuff!” she huffs. She’s flushed. If he could hold her face between his hands, the warmth might stay with him all the way home while he trudges along the sidewalk, ploughing snow aside with his shins.

“Please,” Peter says softly, “tell me more. Tell me anything you want.”

―

She went into it knowing she wouldn’t be allowing her soulmate to make her smile, but MJ didn’t anticipate letting him see her cry. He’s so open and she’s fortified her defenses against this topic for such a long time. Apparently, that’s enough for discussing her emotions and fears to make her crack like an egg. Peter doesn’t rush her or tell her that her feelings are the wrong feelings and the whole time he watches her face with a startling amount of attention. Has anybody looked at her like this? Really looked at her? Ever? She feels like a mom would’ve, but she can’t remember if her mom did. And that’s who she’s talking about, that’s the part of the story she’s at, when she feels the tears dribble out and tilts her head to let them drain away over her cheek. God, this is embarrassing. At least the soccer team packed up and left before she felt her throat getting thick.

“I don’t know if I’m still just letting my mom decide whether or not I get to be happy,” MJ admits, face wet until she catches her tear tracks with the back of her wrist. “I’m trying to do this, ignore the soulmate bond, for me, but maybe… I don’t know…”

“You’re forcing me away from you?” Peter suggests.

“Yeah. I’m abandoning you before we can get attached.” Somehow, this dork has Kleenex in his backpack and hands her one. She blows her nose hard, then crumples the tissue in her hand. “Pretty fucked up.”

“Ok, this is gonna sound really stupid, because we’re not even together, but I don’t think I’m the kind of person who could leave you.”

“You can’t promise that though,” MJ says―so, so quietly. She wants her words to run away and hide under the bleachers with the dust bunnies.

“Would you rather have nothing?” he asks.

Coming from someone else, she’s pretty sure that would be an ultimatum, some kind of threat to accept him as her soulmate now or never get another chance. Peter asks it with as little agenda as he’s asked everything else, easing her through her memories and her dreads.

“I’m not sure,” she says.

“Can I tell you something? I’m not sure I could be with someone whose goal was to resist getting or giving love. I mean, I’ve heard everything you’ve told me and I can see why you’ve been dodging the soulmate thing, but if you get to look way ahead and worry about things that are only possible and far in the future, like me leaving you, then I get to look ahead too.” He pauses and she nods to indicate that, yeah, that’s fair. MJ thinks this is very brave of him, stepping out of the situation for a second to consider what he might need later when what he wants is to be with her right away. “I don’t wanna be left either. I don’t want you not to be able to overcome the idea that soulmates are bad and wrong. Maybe it doesn’t matter if you think that in general, but if it’s a part of our relationship, then you’re always going to be expecting things to end. It would be like you were trying to think your way out of it instead of enjoying whatever we could have. And what we could have, by the way? I don’t think the bond has anything to say about that. Does it encourage us to get together? Yeah, sure, fine, it does and we accept that’s how it works. Once we are together though, isn’t the rest on our terms?”

Finally, Peter takes a longer breath and some of the intensity fades from his expression.

“You’re looking at me funny,” he notes. “I know I talked a lot. Are you gonna say something?”

“Just that you sounded smart and it’s pissing me off.”

He gives her dry joke a sad smile.

“Losing people sucks.” His voice is like a rock falling, falling, falling through deep water. “For as much as you don’t want me to make promises, I know that I’d try really fucking hard not to lose you. You can’t hate me, or your brain can’t hate me, for that. It’s the human element of this whole thing, which should be the part you like, since you’re so anti-destiny.”

Looks like Peter’s raised his own spirits enough to offer a conspiratorial little smile at the end there.

“Another repulsively astute point,” she says flatly and watches his smile broaden. Fuck, it makes her heart feel like a marshmallow that’s melting onto a s’more and simultaneously being stretched until it tears into sticky ribbons.

He checks his watch and gets to his feet.

“I gotta get home.”

“Did I miss the soulmate-decision deadline?” she teases. Feels weird. She stands too and they clomp back down to the gym floor.

“No! God, no, I wasn’t trying to rush you by looking at the time!”

“Parker, I’m messing with you. Chill.”

She eyes his winter clothing.

“Or maybe don’t. Looks like you’re chill enough already. Sorry for being born during a blizzard. My dad told me he and my mom barely got to the hospital in time for me to not be born in the car, the roads were so bad.”

Peter appraises her right back.

“Sorry for being born during a heatwave. I wish I could ask my mom what that was like, but you already know about my parents.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean to start comparing…”

“No, I know,” Peter says. “I miss her, but it’s not always the worst, having a certain moment make me notice that I could’ve learned something from her here. It’s actually easier to appreciate than forget, even if it’s sad for a little while.”

“If I promise to try it, will you cut it out with the insightful bullshit?”

Instead of answering that question, he springs something else on her.

“For the record, I know the only reason you didn’t smile at me is because you were trying so hard not to.”

Immediately, MJ turns her back on him and smirks as she heads for the far exit.

―

Peter’s seen a lot of snow. Almost all the weather he’s ever seen is snow, and even at the point in his day when the snowfall takes its lunchbreak, there’s over a foot on the ground and dense grey clouds up above. He thinks it’s crazy how snow fills people with wonder―mainly in Christmas movies and holiday episodes of TV shows. The way he feels about snow is probably how people living in late-spring-to-early-fall weather feel about grass. It’s just there, the base layer of their environment.

Except tonight Peter has his blind up, watching the thin sprinkle the blizzard has slowed into catch the light from other people’s apartments, a clean, meltable glitter. He’s tired and can’t sleep, but it’s a quiet comfort of sleeplessness, not the kind where he stresses and twists around between his sheets. The weight of the day keeps him flat on his back in bed as he thinks it all over. His feelings, MJ’s, the satisfaction of finally having a long talk with her, the biting pain of seeing her cry. In his mind, since he first guessed it might be her who’s his soulmate, he’s been tailoring their love. Their potential love. He didn’t know what it would look like before having her to mould a concept around. Learning that she was probably his soulmate, studying her, Peter decided they were meant for a slow love. Love would be something that slipped gradually across them, like pulling up the sheet on a bed or stepping into a long summertime shadow.

He’s surprised at the kind of love MJ envisioned; from the berth she gave it when she talked that afternoon, it sounded big and powerful and immediate. Faster than an avalanche, ringing through their lives louder than a thunderclap. He wanted them to confirm their bond soon so that unhurried love could begin to develop and she was afraid that the second they started would be the second they were swept away. No wonder she avoided him, Peter thinks. The love she anticipated would equal an act of god and he isn’t ready for that either. He turns his face away from the direction of the window and stares at his dark ceiling.

Peter has plenty of forceful love in his life―he can’t consider it enough forceful love, because there’s no such thing as enough love, is there?―thanks to May. She took on the mom-ish role of caring for him after his parents were gone, then the single-mom-ish role of raising him into approaching adulthood without Uncle Ben. While her aura is soft, her whole attitude has been very roll-up-your-sleeves where he’s concerned. May faced down his extreme need for parental TLC like it was a battle and continues to love him fiercely, even if his steadily increasing age and Happy’s calming presence temper her a little these days. So Peter’s covered in the department of that kind of love. He hopes his forever person doesn’t feel the need to bombard him with a truckload of love from the start; it would make him feel pitied, somehow, like they were putting all their effort into making up for the fact that he doesn’t have parents anymore. Peter knows he doesn’t have parents, he doesn’t want or need to be smothered to make up for their absence.

This chance (it still isn’t a solid thing) with MJ could let him grow into devotion. He’s kinda longing to know what that feels like. The theoretical adjective he’d attach to it is normal. Whatever the universe’s input here, Peter really believes the most normal thing after confirming their bond would be to allow things to develop however felt right. And with the bond backing them, technically anything they do would be right, right? He wants them to grow up together and grow into each other. He doesn’t want MJ to be the bond or a love lightning bolt, zipping down to fry him. The assurance that they’ll fall in love is enough to start. It’s an invaluable forecast, as dependable as the weather he’s been experiencing all his life.

When his phone buzzes on his nightstand, Peter feels as though he’s being retracted like a telescope―thoughts way far out in space drawing back to his building, his bedroom, his body. He rubs his eyes with his knuckle as he looks at the screen.

So… you were unexpectedly deep today, MJ’s text reads.

They never exactly exchanged numbers, but he got hers from Betty one time and saved it just in case. His heart beats faster at the thought that maybe MJ did the same.

And you’re still mad about it? Peter guesses, tapping out his reply.

Oh, you are up.

There was a lot to think about, he tells her honestly. Why are you still awake?

Because the day you were born must have been the most humid day of the year. It’s too hot to sleep.

Also, MJ tags on, that crap you said about thinking.

―

She lets her phone drop onto the thin cotton sheet of the mattress and uses its light to help her see as she rips nervously at the skin around her fingernail. Texting Peter wasn’t even really a thought―she just found herself doing it, surprised by how natural the instinct felt and despite the fact that she really doesn’t reach out to people. That she would reach out to the one person she was utterly vulnerable in front of less than 12 hours ago is something MJ would never have expected of herself. But she’s let him in this far.

And you decided to talk to me about it? Peter finally responds, postponing further anxiety.

I know. My boundaries are completely fucked after this afternoon. I might never be able to bottle up my feelings again. Hope you’re happy, loser.

Well, Peter texts, you don’t have to do that. If you need to empty the bottle every once in a while, I get it. I can be your glass. Or your straw?

You want to suck up my feelings? Like some kind of feelings-vampire?

God, she is fucking this up so severely. He’s going to wish she’d just kept ignoring him instead of caving to his persistent friendliness and that look he gets that’s all eyes, totally impossible to say no to. Amazingly, her last stupid text isn’t enough to make him say he’s going to sleep now, or worse, not respond at all.

Just a feelings-relief, he corrects. Unless you like the idea of the feelings-vampire better.

You don’t need to bend to my will like that, Parker. Suddenly, MJ’s kind of angry.

Don’t give me what you think I want just because you feel bad about seeing me cry, she continues. Or because you think you can make this work by doing whatever I want. Never appease me.

I care, he says simply.

Wow, she feels like a jerk.

Because destiny told you that you could take that care and trade up for the promise of eternal love? she snarks back, apparently not quite done with the jerk thing.

I had no idea texting you would be even more fun than talking in person.

Is he… is he being sarcastic with her? MJ smiles at her phone. Incredible.

I’m fun in all mediums, she says, not having a clear idea of what she means and looking forward to Peter trying really hard to interpret it.

Knock knock, is his response.

Who’s there?

Ummmm idk.

‘Ummmm idk’ who?

No, I seriously don’t know, he says.

MJ snorts in confused laughter and shifts around to find a cool spot on her sheet; she wasn’t lying about the heat.

Why would you send me the beginning of a knock-knock joke with no joke? she asks.

I thought I’d think of the rest of it in the moment. I know that’s dumb. It just felt like we were maybe in a zone there and I wanted to keep it going.

Relax. I’m not going to strike you out for one ill-conceived knock-knock joke.

What about two?

I wouldn’t test your luck, MJ counsels, still smiling.

She can see that he’s composing a reply, but she beats him to it: I was thinking about what you said about destiny. Actually, what you said about the opposite of destiny, the thing about the human element.

And?

She can practically sense his tension as she holds her phone in her hand.

I think it’s a good thought. That two people can still make a relationship theirs.

Ned said something to me today.

How unusual.

Shut up, Peter quips back. He said that confirming you’re somebody’s soulmate is like the last big step.

Oh?

Yeah, I think he’s totally wrong.

So do I.

Replying that way felt like a huge leap and yet, MJ took it. It doesn’t take long after that for her to start getting tired, blinking long and slow until she’s only opening her eyes when her phone vibrates against her fingers. Peter says he’s tired too and they wrap the conversation up. There’s a suggestion of seeing each other at school the next day. It shouldn’t have any special meaning―it’s a throwaway farewell, less than a promise―but she reacts to it with her last bit of focus. See you in the morning, are her exact words.

She cranes her phone out over the side of her bed with her arm, then lets it go just a little too far from the floor. Probably fine, though it clatters against the surface. Protected by the night and her closed eyes, MJ feels around inside her mind, looking for the taut tug-of-war rope that should be telling her that, one, she doesn’t want to meet with Peter because he’s probably her soulmate and soulmates are a lie and a scam, and two, that she does want to meet with Peter because he has a cute smile that he shows her even when she doesn’t give him much reason to. Then she thinks about how much she prefers first steps to last steps.

―

He could be a clone. He could be a clone in a programmed world, living his programmed life the same every day, but with, like, fake memories that fool him into believing in variety. Because he does believe in it. Today, Peter wakes up and change seems possible.

There’s snow on the ground outside and he has to get his socks on before putting his feet on the floor and he’s eating his breakfast too slowly and the way his aunt and Happy are dressed says it’s still spring. Peter asks about rain. May says, “Any time now,” and keeps reading the paperwork she has folded open on the table as she scratches absently at her arm.

“Amazing,” Peter replies, meaning it, as he picks up his bowl and slurps the rest of his cereal until milk runs down his chin.

His aunt glances up to give him a funny look. He’s pretty sure it’s not about the milk, but there’s no time to ask. If he hurries, he’ll leave ahead of his usual schedule, thanks to this new breakfast hack. He wants to get to school. School is such a great place to be.

Peter races out of the apartment and down the stairs like he’s 10 minutes late instead of 3 minutes early. It’s in the building’s entryway that he gets a feeling. Four feet from the glass door that he sees her standing on the sidewalk, snow she can’t feel partway up her mostly-bare legs. Pushing the door open when she quits looking away down the street and stares straight back at him instead. When MJ smiles, Peter smiles back. It could be a life-changing moment, or it might just be a reflex. Because they started to let each other in, he’ll probably never know the answer. Anyway, why does there only have to be one?

“I’ve been waiting,” she says. “I thought you’d be down sooner.”

He laughs self-deprecatingly.

“I tend to cut my timing kinda close in the morning. You wanna get going?” Peter jerks his head to the side.

“Yeah, we should. You’re probably getting cold just standing there.”

With his timing slightly off, they’re ahead of schedule for the bus he’s usually running to catch, so they decide to walk up to the next stop. As they approach the intersection, the light changes to yellow.

“We can beat it if we run,” Peter suggests, trying not to strangle himself by catching his scarf as he hikes his backpack higher on his shoulders.

But MJ goes, “Wait,” so urgently that he stops at the corner.

“What is it?”

“I thought I just…” With a puzzled expression, she extends her hand, palm up. Not towards Peter, but away from him. “…felt a raindrop.”

They lock eyes.

“You want my coat?” he offers. MJ smiles again.

“I’ll let you know.”

#my writing #spideychelleweek2k20 #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #spideychelle fic #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones #May Parker #happy hogan #may parker x happy hogan #ned leeds #betty brant #ned leeds x betty brant #nettypot

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