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kensboytoy · 5 months

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A Boy and His Doll (Ch. 1)

Title: A Boy and His Doll

Fandom: Barbie (2023)

Pairings: Ken/Original Character (M/M)

Ratings: General

Chapter: 1/?

Summary:

An underpaid middle school librarian gets the surprise of his life when his childhood doll waltzes out of Barbie Land and into his workplace. When the two reconnect, both start to realize they have been chasing the wrong things in life.

A/N:

This is singlehandedly the most indulgent thing I've ever written. I have selfshipped since I was a kid, yet Ken has blown every other crush out of the water. He means the world to me and I hope this fic can be a glimpse into why I adore him so much!

Quietly shelving books that preteens had shoved in various nooks and crannies around the library, things almost seemed peaceful for once. It was just before the final bell was due to ring and everything was finally quiet since class after class had descended upon the tiny library like wolves. The teachers tried their best to handle the large class sizes in an environment outside of the classroom and, well… At least there wasn't a ton of trash to clean up today. Just ripped up books that would either have to be taped up again or tossed in the ever-growing destroy pile.

Why were kids so destructive these days? Oswald sighed to himself as he ran his fingers along another torn cover. He didn't blame the kids, really. Junior high was rough, after all, and he certainly knew that the larger class sizes each year meant that so many of these kids were falling behind. Sometimes he wished he had pursued that teaching credential like he had dreamt of since he was young. That was a far and distant dream nowadays. Many of those silly childhood dreams were. Teacher. Cartoonist. Writer. This job barely paid the rent in Los Angeles, adding teacher expenses alongside student loans would be the final thing that would send him living in his car.

[Continue Reading or Read on AO3!]

The young librarian plopped down in his shoddy swivel chair to begin the process of rebinding all the destroyed books now piled up like an unstable mountain on his desk. It already took him through his lunch hour earlier, so he would just spend the rest of the day working on the daunting task. Somewhere in the faculty fridge, his salad was only getting more wilted and pathetic. It could wait. If he didn't do this now, it would just be another project to work on for hours after school and he loathed staying too late. Classifieds like him with no teaching degree weren't exactly encouraged to have more hours than what was on the schedule and the school had already warned him that there was plenty of time in the day to get all his job duties done.

Oz rolled his eyes at the thought. Administration was just so out of touch with what actually made the school run. When you get paid enough money, you stop caring if kids actually are thriving in public education or not. He let out a soft sigh as he booted up what was now considered an antique: the old Cover One machine. Lazily, he reached around in his drawer for his X-acto knife and gave a blank stare as he pulled it out. No blade. Seriously? How these little thieves got into his locked drawers was seriously impressive, yet mildly infuriating.

"Just take the whole thing next time," he muttered under his breath while reaching for his bag. Years of art supplies were stashed away in there, so he held his breath in prayer for a blade refill. "Shit!"

Of course it was loose. When did he ever have the common sense to put things in their proper cases? He carefully pulled the blade out and was thankful that the cut wasn't deep enough to bleed for more than a few seconds. A quick sucking on the tip of his index finger would heal him enough. Into the holder the blade went and Oz was back at the task of dissecting this book apart. As the blade sliced through the cover, severing it from the spine, Oswald winced. He was always so careful with his own books, always keeping them pristine while reading and never dared to even dog-ear the pages, he felt a bit guilty for the inanimate object he was holding. Hopefully books couldn't feel being tossed around and ripped apart. So many of them sat lonely and untouched on the shelves that he wondered which was a worse fate for something designed to be helpful to humans.

The librarian hummed to himself as he carefully cut off the dust cover before preparing a piece of adhesive to slide against the now bare spine. With the Cover One now warmed up, Oz delicately wrapped the book in wax paper before placing it in the machine. He firmly held the book steady until there were a few beeps signaling that it was done. Out the book came, almost for a breath of air, before he plopped it back in to let it settle for the next eleven minutes. He mused that he could try and fix some of the paperbacks while waiting for it to cool off when he heard the thick library door push open.

Figuring that it was one of the quiet kids coming in to retreat from the chaos of class dismissal, Oz’s face softened into a smile while he stood from his seat to greet them. However, when he saw the fully grown figure in a… cowboy costume? Oz paused. Having adults on campus wasn't unheard of, there were in fact many parents on a daily basis who came in and out even though they really should have stricter security measures at the school. But this person didn't really look like a parent trying to pick their kid up from school.

Was there an assembly Oz had forgotten about? Some weird yo-yo man teaching tricks to bored kids even in this day and age? Or maybe he was a cowboy teaching kids for a career day or something? But that costume didn't scream a real, genuine cowboy. Oz had grown up with vaqueros in Gilroy, watching them skillfully take care of the farmlands out there. And they did not look like this delicate, untouched pretty boy who had just strutted in.

Curiously, he elected to watch the stranger for the time being as nothing about the man really warranted him to freak out quite yet. It was actually a nice surprise. Oz sat back down in his chair and continued to work on his book repairs, his emerald eyes flashing up every now and then to see what the cowboy was up to. The man looked lost, like he had never been in a library before. He was staring at the ends of the isles, desperately searching for where a certain subject would be. Alright, he was starting to look pathetic enough that Oz had to help him out.

"Can I help you?" he inquired, sneaking up behind the cowboy.

There was a soft yelp from the blonde before he whipped around, baby blue eyes wide in fright. Oz was looked up and down before the stranger stood back up at his full height, eyes narrowed.

"You must be the keeper of these books?"

The question sounded almost impressed. Oz, obviously amused, gave a small nod.

"The one and only. What can I help you find?"

That caused the cowboy to look more relieved as a wide smile stretched across his goofy looking face.

"I'd like your books about men, please."

Oh. Oh? Well that was interesting. Was this man…? No, no. No need to make speculations. Just because Oz was gay didn't mean that every guy was. Though, with that outfit…

Oz shook the thought from his mind quickly, not wanting to assume that this pretty man was talking about the wide selection of queer books they had. He led the man to the non-fiction section before turning his head back up at him.

"Well, you'll have a lot to pick from, but I'd start here. Try the biographies and autobiographies if it gets too overwhelming," the ginger haired man offered with a smile. "If you have a better idea of… men, well, I can help you narrow it down."

The cowboy scanned the books for a moment, still seeming so puzzled. Oz might have to hold his hand through the entire library process wouldn't he?

"Do you have books about… the patriarchy?"

Oz blinked in surprise. Huh. Yeah, this guy was a weird one. Didn’t exactly scream incel but the request was a bit amusing coming from a handsome boy. He quickly walked down the isles to the war section and pointed out a few very outdated pieces of literature the school still somehow hung onto. The man ran his index finger along the spines before grabbing a few that interested him. Pleased with his selection, he beamed at Oswald. There was something charming and almost innocent the way he smiled. Like a proud child picking out their first book. Oz couldn’t help but feel a flutter in his heart at that.

"How about horses?"

Now that was a normal request. Fitting for the cowboy! Oz returned the smile and showed the cowboy their small selection. Wasn’t anything fancy, really. Perhaps an elementary school would have a wider selection. Back when he was a horse girl, that was the ultimate treasure trove of knowledge. Middleschoolers didn’t care about that sort of thing too much. ’That stuff’s for babies’ would be the usual complaint. So, the school barely kept anything fun in stock. Booooring! A total snoozeville. It’s like no kid could harbour a special interest anymore.

Oswald carefully pulled out the only book that was specific to horses and watched the man’s eyes go wide. Eager hands snatched it up, thumbs dancing along the cover as if he was trying to actually pet the horses plastered all over the book. That goofy smile never faded from the stranger even for a second.

“Yes! Yes…” The man was giggling. “This is perfect - do I have to pay for these?”

He suddenly looked very worried, full of cautious optimism searching Oz’s face for an answer while protectively clutching the handful of books to his chest. Oz let out a soft chuckle and shook his head.

“Normally you’d need a library card but, uh, you’re not a student. ‘sides, no one will miss those books if you took them. I think the last time anyone even looked at those books was more than a decade ago. They’d probably end up in a landfill soon anyways.” Playfully, he shot the cowboy a wink and pressed his index finger to his own lips. “Just keep quiet about it, ‘kay?”

There was that sweet smile again followed by frantic nodding.

“Of course! Your secret is safe with me, bookkeeper.”

“School librarian, but I kinda like bookkeeper better,” Oz laughed.

“Well, bookkeeper, I shall take these fine books and bid you ado,” the cowboy grinned, tipping his hat to Oz.

As the cowboy turned to leave, Oz reached out to grab his hand. It was so instinctual - like he was afraid of saying goodbye to this stranger. He couldn’t just let him go so easily. Maybe he could ask him what his deal was. Anything to spend another minute with him.

When their fingers grazed against each other, his mind exploded with visions that suddenly froze every muscle in his body and completely immobilized him.

Visions of him being very little with a doll in his hands. The only doll he ever had growing up. Ken. His Ken doll that he found in a pile of cheap toys at the flea market his family vended at. The one that caught his eye underneath the mountain of stuffed animals he normally would jump at the chance to pick through. Still in his tattered box. Oz never thought he’d be able to afford something so nice. His usual toys were old and discarded ones no longer wanted by their owners. Broken, unbranded, or simply just cheap fast food toys that other children grew tired of. The kind old lady selling the doll had given it to him for all the change he had rattling around in his pocket that day once she saw the quiet child’s nervous excitement just holding the box.

How very careful he was taking such an exquisite toy out of the box. Delicately opening the packaging and saving what he could before holding Ken tightly against his chest. Tears had rolled down his cheeks from just how happy he was to own something so nice. A little dollie all of his own. He’d be oh so careful to love and cherish this Ken for as long as he could!

They were inseparable. Ken was always in his coat pocket wherever he went. Despite being so young, Oz made sure to play with his toys as gingerly as possible. Ken was handled especially tenderly. Always getting a nice long bath in the sink after spending the whole day outside. Then getting tucked into a makeshift bed made out of tissues or scraps of fabric samples Oz’s mom let him have. All set up nice and cozy on the dresser next to his own bed so that he could keep Ken closeby. With Ken around, nightmares didn’t stand a chance.

Memories like this had been long locked away by Oz’s deep-rooted trauma. Yet now they were pouring in uncontrollably.

“Ken?” Oswald’s voice cracked as tears flooded his vision. It was so soft and uncertain. Surely this was a dream. It couldn’t be his Ken, right?

It looked like Ken had been hit with the same realization. His twinkling blue eyes were wide like a deer in the headlights as he searched Oz’s face. Immediately, his arms were around Oswald, holding him tightly. A laugh bubbled up from him and he just kept squeezing. So afraid to let go.

A memory. Ken had a memory! He wasn’t sure if he ever had one before, but it felt so nice. Brand new, a bit scary, but… he could feel something deep inside him that he had never felt before. The only thing he could compare it to was the feeling he had been chasing whenever Barbie looked at him. What was that funny feeling that made him feel so full?

“Oz! Wow!” He couldn’t stop himself from letting out excited little laughs of disbelief. “Is that really you? Look at how much you’ve grown…”

Clutching onto his old friend, Oswald was overcome with emotion. His smile was wide and shaky as he began to sob softly into Ken’s shoulder. Those were words he always craved to hear from loved ones since his transition. No one had ever said something so sweet to him.

Worried that he had upset his dear friend, Ken pulled back enough to closely examine the weeping man. Oz wasn’t frowning, no there was still a smile on his face, but why did he cry? Was he not happy to see him? Had he said something wrong?

“You should be standing in my curio cabinet at home,” Oz’s voice cracked, teary eyes looking up at his doll. “How…”

“You kept me?” It was Ken’s turn to be surprised.

“Of course I did.” Carefully, as if he were afraid that Ken would disappear like a fading dream, Oz cupped his doll’s cheek. “I tried to keep all my toys that my family didn’t haul off without me knowing.”

Family.

Ken remembered those people - they weren’t very nice. As the memories continued to trickle into his plastic brain, he could recall the nights Oz would cry after being berated by his aunt and uncle specifically. He had been so scared after his parents passed away. Hugging Ken close to him every night even though he was all grown up. How desperately Ken wanted to hug him back and tell him he was okay. To protect his boy. He could feel that protective surge swell in his chest, arms tightening his hold onto Oswald. Now he could properly hold his boy.

It was an unfamiliar feeling to be held like this. Sure, Oz gave plenty of hugs to his friends even as an adult. This was far different from that. His body tensed up for a moment like a frightened prey animal unable to move. However, the longer they stood in the embrace, he felt himself relax into Ken’s touch. The tears couldn’t stop themselves as soon as they cascaded back down his cheeks. Safe. For the first time in more than a decade, Oz felt safe.

“I’m so happy I found you again,” Ken murmured, dipping his head down to rest against Oz's.

“How is this possible, Ken? I - I’m not having one of those hallucinations again, right?” Nervously, the librarian pulled away so that he could stare into Ken’s eyes. It was so bizarre that Ken looked so human and yet still very dollike. “You feel real.”

“I am real!” Ken puffed out his chest and gave a bit of a flex to show off. “Does this not totally look real?”

There was a giggle from Oz as he placed a hand on the firm bicep that was being showcased. The fact that Ken was such a show-off was rather charming, he couldn’t lie. A true himbo like the human had always imagined.

“C’mon, dollie. I didn’t mean it like that.” He gave him a reassuring pat on his arm. “You know that my brain plays tricks on me.”

Ken’s boisterous behaviour faltered for a moment as he looked at his boy.

“You still see those… monsters?” he quietly asked.

“Sometimes. It’s not as scary like it was back then.” Oz gave a sheepish smile, feeling bad that he was causing Ken to worry so much. “I take medication to help now.”

Those arms were back around him, pulling him in for another hug.

“I won’t let them get to you. I can fight them for you now!”

How could Ken so easily make all the years of trauma slip away like it was nothing? Oz had been fighting for so long on his own, trying to make a life for himself in this crazy world. And now his doll was human-sized and a walking, talking being that somehow waltzed back into his life? He didn’t believe in fate. But this was one hell of a coincidence.

“But how are you here, Ken? I don’t understand.”

“That’s easy! Barbie was trying to find the little girl who was playing with her. Something about cellulite - whatever that is. Lots of transportation. And now we’re here in the Real World!”

Staring at him like he grew a second head, Oz cocked his head to the side.

“Barbie? I never had a Barbie. Did you… find a Barbie?”

Suddenly, Ken felt very warm. His face was red hot! That was weird. He was plastic. Was this another funny feeling he didn’t quite understand?

“Well, yeah. It’s Barbie and Ken, you know?”

Oz’s face softened at that.

“That’s sweet. My Ken has a Barbie. Huh.”

“Wh-what?” That blush was growing deeper. Ken looked nervous. But that funny feeling was growing when Oz called him his Ken.

“Nothin’. ’s just cute that you found your girlfriend. Is she here too?” He peeked out the window of the library, glancing through the crowds of preteens. Nothing loud and pink out there.

“She’s uh. Doing her own thing.”

Oz’s brow shot upwards and he tried his best to suppress his grin.

“Well, don’t let me keep you, Ken. Go on, go to her.” He pulled away from his doll, heart feeling achy at the thought of Ken leaving. But if Ken had a Barbie, he wasn’t going to keep him from her. Looks like his doll didn’t need him anymore.

It was Ken’s turn to grab Oz’s hand.

“I wanna stay with you longer. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” It was surprising to Ken that he was saying all this. Normally, he’d do anything to trail in Barbie’s shadow in the hopes she’d so much as look at him. But that didn’t seem to interest him right now. Not with his boy right in front of him. Something was telling him that he needed to stay with Oswald. “Please?”

Oz couldn’t say no to such a sweet face. How could anyone?

“Okay, okay. You’re really twistin’ my arm here,” he joked. Ken immediately let go, panic on his face. “Oh, no! I was just teasing! It’s an expression.”

The librarian turned his head to the stack of books on his desk. He should have stayed to finish the daunting work and not have even more on his plate for the next day, but…

Oh, come on! His childhood doll springs to life and he’s just supposed to go back to his mundane day job? Nuh-uh. He was going to spend as much time as he could with Ken in case he was plucked away back to wherever the hell he came from.

“If you give me ten minutes, I’ll wrap up everything here and maybe we could…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his head nervously. “Go back to my apartment or something?”

Ken lit up at that. Like an excitable dog, he was practically bouncing up and down. Then he realized he may be looking very uncool and tried to stand up straight to posture himself as calm and collected.

“That would be rad.”

“You can go over to those bean bags and chill for a bit - I’m sure you wanna read those new books you got.” Oz smiled, pointing to a circle of janky bean bag chairs that had seen much better years.

Oh right. The books. Ken had almost forgotten about the books he was carrying, fingers curling against the thick spines of each one. Somehow, he wasn’t that intrigued to explore the topics of this world that he had been so curious about not even ten minutes ago. That didn’t matter to him when Oswald was right there.

“I can read that stuff later,” he shrugged. “No big deal.”

Oz tried to bite back a laugh at the fact that Ken was trying to act so smooth after nearly bursting at the seams getting these books just a short bit ago. Was he wanting to impress Oswald now? What a silly doll. He simply gave a little nod and began to tidy up the books he had been rebinding, taking notice as Ken shuffled closer to try and take a peek. Oz didn’t mind the audience. Having his doll near him felt safe. A warm feeling that pooled in his belly that he hadn’t felt in so long. Maybe Ken could stick around longer before he went back to his dollhouse. Did Ken have a dollhouse? He’d have to ask a million questions about where Ken came from when they got back home.

The little flutters in his chest with Ken nearby were so bizarre. Was it excitement? Nervousness? There was a frenzy of emotions running through him all at once due to the fact that his doll was lifesize and following him around like a lost puppy. Such a sweet face. He could feel his own face grow warm with the threat of blush rising to his cheeks. Shit, when he went red, it was so painfully obvious! So he tried to hide his face with his long copper locks of hair and turn away from Ken as much as possible when tidying up. Maybe since Ken was so oblivious he wouldn’t notice his human getting flustered.

And he didn’t, thankfully. The doll was too occupied with watching what Oz was doing with his hands. How gentle they were with the tattered books lining his desk. Ken smiled to himself. Of course his boy was careful - he remembered how well taken care of he was when he was Oz’s doll. There was something swirling around in his own chest at the thought of it. Kens were merely accessories for Barbies and not typically played with on their own. Yet, with all the memories filling him, he now knew that he had been loved by his human. Looks like it wasn’t just Barbie that had someone! His half smirk was wide on his face with just how smug he felt. There was someone out there that loved Ken for being Ken. Wow!

“What’s that look for?” Oz chuckled, bag slung over his shoulder and car keys in hand as soon as he walked back up to Ken.

“Nothing!” Ken lied. Had to still play it cool. Couldn’t mess this chance up! “Just… ready for our hangout sesh.”

Oswald looked skeptically at Ken before he absentmindedly reached for the doll’s free hand. Their fingers laced together and Oz was pulling him to the door. It felt so natural that neither of them had questioned how sudden this was. Just bashful glimpses at one another like two shy kids holding hands for the first time.

“Alright, cowboy. Let’s go home.”

#Works of Oz #Fanfiction #Selfship #Ken #Barbie 2023 #I swore I would start posting my Gosling stuff here so... hello everyone ;u;#Ryan Gosling

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daebakinc · 1 year

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Pretty Woman Finale

Pretty Woman AU

Pairing: Kihyun x Reader

Word Count: 2.6 K

Synopsis: Rich business man, Kihyun Yoo finds himself lost driving in Los Angeles. Stopping for directions he meets you, a prostitute on Hollywood Boulevard. What starts as a one night stand soon becomes a weeklong proposition, as Kihyun needs arm candy for his visit in the city of angels.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~Admin V

You had trouble sleeping in your own bed. Partly because there were so many possibilities for you now and your mind was playing any and all ideas, and partly because you were spoiled by the Baverse mattress and couldn’t get comfortable.

As you lay awake, you worked out your plans for the next day. First, you’d have to stop by the library and use the computer to look up housing in San Fran. The idea of renting a car to get there seemed more comfortable with all your newly acquired belongings than toting everything on a bus.

Checking out schools for completing your G.E.D. was also on your list. You’d work on the job situation once you got there. The school could have programs to help you with that.

And Kihyun. You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about him. His heartbroken face when you told him you weren’t going to spend the night with him. The way he nodded at the door when he screamed for K.Will to get the hell out. How his lips felt against yours the night before when you kissed him again and again.

At some point you’d finally dozed off. Frantic knocking on your door woke you. Looking at the clock it was a bit after 10a.m. The landlord must’ve been antsy for the rent. Sifting through the envelop from Kihyun, you grabbed what was due, but when you opened the door, it wasn’t the landlord standing before you.

His shoulders relaxed when he sighed with relief. “You’re here.”

Your jaw fell slack. “Kihyun? Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane to Korea?” You glanced around in the hall. “How do you know where I live?”

“Changkyun. When I was checking out, he casually mentioned that the limo driver took you home yesterday.” He took a deep breath. He must’ve run up all the flights of stairs to your floor.

Gesturing for him to enter your apartment, he took another breath of relief.

Facing you, he continued. “I’m an idiot.”

You smiled to that. “Yeah?”

He was flustered. It was clear there was so much he wanted, needed to express but didn’t know where to start. “You said this week changed everything for you. It changed everything for me as well. It just took me longer to realize it.” He began pacing in front of you, his words spewing out quickly. “Never, not in a million years would I have bought Honey Bear Records to save it. I was on the path of destruction and had absolutely no intention of ever getting off of it. But you,” he ran his fingers through his hair and looked you in the eyes. “You showed me I still have a heart. I don’t have to be the villain I’d turned myself into.

“When I told you I wanted to put you up in a condo and see you, that wasn’t my intention to have you waiting for me; waiting for money, waiting for me to use you. That was old me. How I dealt with past relationships. They’ve always been about me using them when I needed them.” He cringed at himself when he heard what he’d just said.

Stroking his arm to let him know it was okay and you weren’t running from him, you encouraged him to continue.

“I like who I am with you. And, it will be a learning process. I’m sure that I will still do and say things to fuck it all up, but I can’t let you go.”

Mouth agape again, you could only stare at him.

His confidence was back as he squared his shoulders and took your hands in his. “I can’t go back to South Korea, not without you. I don’t care if we stay here in Los Angeles, or even here in this apartment.” You noticed his grimace as he looked around but he quickly recovered to a face of sincerity. “I don’t care where I am, as long as I’m with you.

“I can understand if you don’t want me buying everything and doing everything for you. You’re a self-made woman and I respect that about you. But I do have money, and I don’t see why it can’t be used if it will help you.” He went back to pacing, seeming to have said something he hadn’t meant to.

“What’s wrong, Kihyun?”

He stopped and focused on you. “You’re not my personal prostitute or beck-and-call girl. I know you’re not.” Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer and looked into your eyes. “But I want you to be mine.”

Your heart beat sped and you felt a blush in your cheeks.

He lifted your chin with his fingers so you were looking him in the eye. “You said yesterday you wanted me to love you. Love you for you. I . . .” He took a sharp inhale, but it didn’t stop his lip from quivering. “I . . .” he tried again.

You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face. “I love you, too.”

Though he looked comforted, it didn’t stop another tremble of his lips and you saw tears sitting in his eyes. They closed when you leaned up and pressed your forehead against his.

“You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready. We’ve only known each other a week after all.” You kissed the tip of his nose.

Sighing, he pressed away from you to look at you. “It’s not that.” His voice was squeaky and it pulled at your heartstrings. He’d finally slowed down his words. “When I’ve said it before in past relationships, I never meant it. Not like I mean it now.” The tears overwhelmed him as they now trickled down his cheeks. “I’m scared,” he breathed.

Carefully, you held his face in your hands. “You don’t need to be. I am yours.”

When he smiled, you couldn’t help yourself from giving him a soft, chaste kiss. He pressed back, and the two of you took the moment to just savor the feeling, the closeness. Pecking his lips a few times, you pressed one more smooch before leaning your forehead against his again.

Kihyun caressed your cheek. “I don’t deserve such a pretty woman.”

“Then you’re quite a lucky man.”

Six Months Later

You pulled your brand-new, sleek, cyan blue Dodge Viper in front of Honey Bear Records. Yes, you were a self-made woman, but you also needed a car. And with Kihyun offering to get you such a lovely one for passing your G.E.D., who were you to refuse?

Walking into a studio, Hyunwoo was sitting in the back of the room on a couch. He looked up when he heard your footsteps. “Hey, how’d the test in music production go?”

After retrieving the test in question from your bag, you handed it to him. His face instantly lifted. “Yeah! Look at you, big time college girl!” He gave you a high five then you plopped down on the couch next to him.

“How’s our boy doing?”

Both of you turned your attention to the front of the room. Jooheon was sitting in front of the sound board and recording equipment. Behind the laminated glass, Kihyun was in the zone, warming up his voice before the music started.

You couldn’t hide your smile as you watched him. He was so passionate as he got into the music. Then his lyrics started.

I can suddenly feel something has changed I am becoming an adult I don't hate myself Even when I see my weakness I tended to get anxious Thinking about me after a few years Rather than how I feel today I was like that at that time

I feel like I will miss those foolish Days, which made me work harder The days when I was young and cheerful And the heart that was pumping so fast after dancing hard I feel like the sky is beautiful nowadays

His voice cracked and he indicated for Jooheon to stop the music. Once he had a few swigs of water he kept repeating the note he couldn’t seem to get right.

Jooheon spun around in his chair toward you. “Queen! Tell me you aced the test!”

Getting up you handed it to him.

His face beamed when he looked at you. “That’s my girl.”

You nodded your head in the direction of Kihyun. “How many takes has he been doing for this one?”

“Just a few. You know he’s a perfectionist, so if it doesn’t sound the way he wants it, we start over.”

It was part of his passion for the music.

A mischievous smile appeared on Jooheon’s face. “You know, now that you’re here, I’m sure if he were to relieve some of that frustration, he’d be able to get his notes right.”

“Jooheon,” Hyunwoo warned, embarrassment causing him to blush.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that so?”

Hyunwoo got up and slapped the younger man in the shoulder. “Please excuse him. All this time in the studio has clearly deprived him of oxygen to the brain.” He pulled Jooheon from the chair and pushed him towards the door. “Go get some fresh air.”

Jooheon laughed and faced you. “I’m gonna get some coffee, you want your usual?”

“Yes please,” you couldn’t help but laugh with him. Once he was out of the room, Hyunwoo looked apologetic.

“Though I don’t agree with my partner’s exact suggestion,” he then motioned toward Kihyun, “I do think he could use a bit of a break and some words of reassurance.” The blush was still present as he bowed. “I’ll give you two some time.” He too left the room, leaving it to just you and Kihyun.

Knocking on the studio door, Kihyun looked a little surprised to see you.

“Hey,” he smiled. He looked through the glass and noticed the others were gone. “Where’d they go?”

“Coffee break. Jooheon heavily hinted you could use a release.”

His face turned red. “What did he say?”

You closed the distance between the two of you. “Oh, just that you might sound better if you let some of that tension go.”

The blush was gone and his confident power took its place. “What did you have in mind?”

Smiling, your hand reached down to touch him through his pants. “I was thinking blow job.”

A smirk formed on his face. “And what if you screaming my name will relieve the tension?”

Before you could answer, the studio door flung open. Both you and Kihyun watched as Jooheon walked in, hand over his eyes. “I forgot I had the headphones and the sound still on. Don’t mind me.” It was very clear he wasn’t at all ashamed of interrupting and he even peaked through his fingers at one point, trying to catch any action. When he dropped the wireless headphones in the chair, and made sure all the sound equipment was off, he left. Kihyun and you burst out into laugher. You each laughed so hard you had to sit on the ground until you calmed down.

When you were both back to normal breathing patterns, Kihyun moved so his back was against the wall and pulled you into his arms. He played with your hair as you played with his fingers. The laughing worked to get rid of his stress.

Looking up, you smiled at him. “The song is very pretty from what I heard.”

He smiled back at you. “You think so?”

“I’m very biased, of course, but yes.”

His grin widened. He looked from your eyes to you lips then bent down to kiss you. The musk of his cologne mixed with his sweet tastes made your head spin. You kissed him back until you felt breathless. If it were up to you, you’d never stop kissing him. When he bit against your lip, you couldn’t help the low groan it caused.

Shifting your position, you turned to better face him, crawling in his lap. You deepened the kiss as you breathed him in and he slid his tongue into your mouth. Your new spot in his lap allowed you to grind against him, feeling his growing hardon against your growing wetness.

Kihyun’s hands snaked up your back, under your shirt to unhook your bra.

You jumped when your phone vibrated in your back pocket. He grabbed it for you and you both looked at the screen. It was Jooheon.

He put it on speaker. “Wasn’t it your idea for her to help me blow off some steam?”

Jooheon laughed. “She ordered a coffee. I just wanted to know if it was safe to bring it in to her.”

“Unless you want to clean up the love stain we’re about to make, I suggest you and Hyunwoo leave the building. Now.”

There was stunned silence on the other line, and before Jooheon answered, Kihyun hung up.

He then held you as he again shifted your positions so that you were on your back and he hovering over you.

“A love stain, huh?” you chuckled.

“A big one.” He brushed hair from your forehead.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have a condom.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Well, I’ve changed my profession. I no longer have need to carry around a buffet of safety.”

The sad, puppy pout you gave made you crack up with laughter. You reached into your bra and retrieved a condom. Old habits die hard.

His pout was replaced with a smirk. “You’re going to be punished for that.”

Matching his smirk, you replied. “I better be.”

Kihyun nipped at your nose. His face switched from playful to serious. “I love you.”

Your hand reached to caress his cheek. “I love you, too.”

He leaned down to kiss you again. It was short lived as you pushed him away. “If Jooheon and Hyunwoo are going home, how are you gonna finish recording when we’re finished?”

“Didn’t you have a production test today?”

“ . . . Yeah?”

“Then maybe you can give it a shot.”

You pushed him off so you could sit up. “Are you sure? I’m still unsure about some of the equipment. I don’t want to mess anything up.”

Brushing a stray hair behind your ear, he gave an earnest smile. “The best way to learn is trying. I can help, too.”

He sounded certain, but you weren’t as confident as he was. “I just don’t want to mess it up. I know how you like everything. I don’t want to get lost in the equipment.”

He grinned wider and shook his head. “We’ll figure it out together. I promise to be on my best behavior and not snippy like I am with Jooheon. And if we get lost in the equipment, I do recall getting lost in Hollywood is how we both ended up here.”

Finally convinced, you smiled back at him. “Okay. But now I’m not in the mood to create a love stain with you.”

He jokingly groaned, but you could tell he was also more interested in getting back to the music. Helping you up, you both left the sound booth and sat in front of the recording equipment. Luckily, you did know a good portion of what to do, and what you didn’t Kihyun handled.

With everything ready, he went back into the other room. You spoke into the intercom. “Are you ready for the ride of your life?”

Shaking his head while chuckling, he gave you a wink. “Let’s do it.”

The End

#kihyun #yoo kihyun #monsta x #kihyun fics #kihyun scenarios #monsta x fics #monsta x scenarios #kpop fics #kpop scenarios

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buzzdixonwriter · 2 years

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Bill Danch’s Finest Hour And Five Minutes

One of the first people I met when I started working for Filmation Studios in 1978 was an irascible old reprobate named Bill Danch.

And I say that with the greatest affection possible.

Bill wrote for radio in the 1940s, most notably on the old Fibber McGee And Molly show. The way they wrote weekly radio sit-coms back in the day was to come up with a central theme or plot for an episode, then assign different writers different characters the star/s would interact with (the head writer / story editor / producer would then do the final pass over the script to smooth out all the bumps).

Bill handled the character Tini, a perpetually precocious 6-year old neighbor who periodically dropped in to contribute to the silliness.

I forget how he got involved in writing for radio, but I seem to recall he also wrote a few big-little books in the 1930s for paltry fees.

Before that he worked a number of hard scrabble jobs, including stripping the paint off Pullman cars with buckets of turpentine during the Depression. Corporations then and now showed the same concern over the health and safety of their employees and Danch’s crew needed to work without gloves.

The constant exposure to turpentine on his bare skin destroyed the oil glands in his hands and forearms, so for the rest of his life he needed to constantly massage moisturizers into his gnarly, claw-like hands.

He was born in Hammond, IN in 1910 and died in Ojai, CA in 2004. He may have acquired a wife or two along the way (I seem to recall mention of a son but may be misremembering) but when I met him he was unmarried and living alone.

He would have been 68 when I met him at Filmation Studios, but he looked a lot older, bent and balding but full of piss and vinegar. He told me he began writing for animation during the 1940s, contributing stories and gags to Tex Avery cartoons until Tex remade one of his cartoons without paying him.

His first noted animation writing was for the legendary UPA studios but he also wrote episodes on a number of early TV shows, of which The Real McCoys probably marks his high water mark in live action.

Bill seemed to bounce around from gig to gig, not really getting a solid footing under himself until the 1960s when he became a staff writer on The Jim Backus Show and a couple of animated series.

He washed up -- er, landed at Filmation in 1970 when signed on to write for Archie And His New Pals. He stayed at the studio through to 1982, writing primarily for Fat Albert and the various Archie shows.

He ran a side hustle self-publishing a book on how to win mail-in contests and store drawings.*

I lost track of him around 1980 when I left Filmation and wound up at Ruby-Spears.

Believe me, two years was a lifetime’s worth of exposure to him (and again, I write that with affection).

A couple of Bill Danch stories pop to mind:

Bill was drafted during WWII and assigned to the glider corps. As he and his squad lined up for a practice flight, he noticed the glider pilot wore a parachute.

“Why do you get a parachute and we don’t?” he asked.

“They need me,” the pilot said.

Bill immediately called in as many favors as he could and before his unti shipped out for D-Day managed to get reassigned to the Army’s public affairs office.

In Hollywood.

A lot of Hollywood types pulled strings to get assigned in and around Los Angeles during the war. Bill and the rest of the office -- all radio and screenwriters in civilian life -- pounded out Army press releases during the day and scripts for studios at night.

They were located near Hollywood and Vine, operating out of a rented house in the neighborhood bordering Hollywood Boulevard.

Their neighbor was an angry lady -- what we’d call a Karen today -- who resented them because her son was actually serving overseas.

When the lease ran out on the house, the Army relocated them to the Westwood / UCLA area, about 8 miles west of Hollywood and Vine.

As they were loading their office equipment on a truck for their move, their bitter neighbor came over to smirk.

“I see they finally caught up with you goldbricks,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bill answered. “They’re moving us closer to the Pacific front: Westwood.”

Bill could be a righteous bastard when he put his mind to it.

The main story I want to write about is Bill’s 1954 magnum opus: Monster From The Ocean Floor.

Bill had written a spec script called It Stalked The Ocean Floor and showed it to a young assistant agent he knew, Roger Corman.

Monster… was Roger Corman’s second feature film, his first solo effort as a producer.

According to Bill, his original script was more expansive than the final film, and that may be true. The non-monster parts don’t seem badly done for the era, but aren’t the epitome of the motion picture art.

The most interesting thing about it is that the heroine, instead of being army candy and / or a helpless victim, takes the lead in trying to catch the monster. She’s rescued in the end by the hero ramming his mini-sub into the monster’s cyclopedian eye, but that’s because she donned scuba gear to go confront the beast in its own lair.

Corman financed the film with money off his first feature, Highway Dragnet, and getting Bill and director / co-star Wyatt Ordung to accept deferred payments.

Exactly how much Corman spent on the film varies with who’s telling the story, but the low ball figure of $12,000 certainly seems plausible / bordering generous when one actually sees the movie.

It clocked in at 65-minutes, making it perfect fodder for a drive-in double-bill, literally a B-movie.

According to Bill, it played for years on the drive-in circuits, often being teamed up with older A-movies such as Ben-Hur.

The way distributors broke down revenues from double-bills was to split the revenue evenly between the two films.

It’s safe to assume very, very few people came to the Ben-Hur / Monster From The Ocean Floor double-bill to see Bill’s movie, but nonetheless Corman got half the take.

However…

Hollywood distributors -- being even more ruthless and less ethical than Medellin cartel drug lords -- typically expected an under the table kickback from the B-movie producers if the B-movie producers wanted their next film to get distribution.

Bill and Wyatt Ordung waited and waited and waited for their deferred payments but never received them (Ordung was in even deeper than Bill; he invested his life insurance in the film).

They eventually sued Corman in the late 1950s / early 1960s, demanding to see his accounting books to determine how much they were owed.

Corman said sure and in the discovery phase of the trial told them to go to the local Bekins warehouse.

There Bill and Ordung found three china barrels filled with loose papers, all the paperwork associated with every film Corman made in the 1950s.

Corman mixed the papers up and divided them among the three barrels, meaning Bill and Ordung would need to pay for very expensive legal and accounting time to make heads and tails of it.

Realizing they’d never make enough to recoup what they’d spend, Bill and Ordung dropped the suit.

. . .

I stated Monster From The Ocean Floor was Bill’s magnum opus, but he did work on another produced live action screenplay.

I’m not sure what Bill contributed to the Mary Tyler Moore / George Peppard movie What’s So Bad About Feeling Good? but having seen that movie, I can attest Monster From The Ocean Floor is the more respectable credit.

* His system actually worked! Not every time, of course, but often enough to dramatically improve one’s chances. He researched how mail in contests selected winners and gave viable tips on how to make one’s envelope more likely to be picked. And his hack for winning random drawings was simple: Crumple up then unfold your entry slip and the bumps and crinkles will migrate to the middle of the entries, greatly increasing one’s chances of being drawn when somebody reached in to grab one at random.

#sci-fi movies #Bill Danch #Filmation #Roger Corman #Monster From The Ocean Floor

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kennyfischerconsulting · 5 months

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BRILLIANT SCRAP MEN – WHITEY SALL - #2 So, in November of 1969 Diversified moved my wife Margie, my 1-year-old daughter Julie, and me to Los Angeles to work for Whitey. Since Julie was the only grandchild of all 4 grandparents, you could imagine how popular that made me. We moved to a two-bedroom apartment in Encino, about 35 minutes commute to the WESTERN NON-FERROUS ( WNF) office on 3rd and Martel; right down the street from Farmers Market. Although by then I was buying scrap, attending conventions, and traveling the US, LA was quite a culture shock for Margie and me. We had no friends or relatives, which was a lot harder on Margie than me, since I was busy at work all day. We lived at the beautiful Balboa Biltmore apartments, with underground parking and a swimming pool, and the rent was three times what we were paying in St. Louis. I may have been the only one in the building that had an American car and wore a suit and tie to work. Even so, at $17,500 a year and a company car we were doing just fine. OK, back to WNF. Rose Seminow was and had been Whitey’s secretary (dictation was the only way in those days), office manager, girl Friday, and my savior. They did eventually marry a few years after Whitey’s wife Louise passed away. Rose Sall is 96 (as of 2016) was still sharp as a tack and a great money manager. Rose was so nice to us when we moved and did anything she could make our transition easier. Her husband was called “Sim.” He was a lot rougher than cultured Whitey, but he did take me deep sea fishing for the first time and with my freshwater gear and lite line I caught the only Yellow Tail on a day trip out of San Pedro. Whitey was the Dean of the LA scrap metal business and probably had more knowledge of that industry, including melting, than maybe anyone in America. He generously passed on all that I could absorb. Since we did no melting or smelting in California, a lot of what he knew passed with him, since there was no need for me to know much of it. He explained to me one day how to use our aluminum choppings to reduce the antimony content in Hard lead from telephone cable strips into Soft lead. Who else knew that? Today you can Google it. He always went out of his way to be good to me and teach me anything that would help me grow. He was gruff and not in the best of moods most times and only those few people who knew him well and knew of his generosity really loved him. The rest disliked or feared him, but that didn’t keep them from coming to him for advice and an occasional loan. I once saw him lend $1,500 to a despicable, totally unsavory fellow in the metals business and I questioned him about getting paid back. His answer was, “I hope he doesn’t pay me back. That way he won’t have the guts to come ask again.” We had this junior accountant, and a Pilipino non-practicing lawyer in the office as clerks, Freddie Tobias, a buyer from Whitey’s past, and e Syndicate member Ronnie Polishuk in the LA office.

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deluxelimousine2 · 1 year

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Things to Look for in a Limo Service Company

If you live in a big city like Chicago or LA, you know that the distances from point A to point B are really long. It gets even worse when there is traffic, extremely expensive parking fees, and tolls. cheap limo service near me

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There are always several limo companies around you. You have always some options to choose from. If you don't like one company, you can go with the other one. Or you can try different limo company every time and experiment to see which one is the best for you. There is no obligation for a customer to stick with one company of to call a specific company. limousine service near me

There are multiple factors when it comes to choosing a limousine company for yourself. You should be aware of several basic ones before making your decision.

Limousines vary in model, size and capacity. However, the most wanted are the black stretch limos. Black is a color of formality and elegance. And the sleek elongated body of the vehicle helps to create that impression. Such Limos are associated with superstars, politicians and wealthy people.

Nowadays, people want different style of limos. Moreover, extreme colors as pink, silver or golden are becoming more and more popular for different occasions. It is common that the sweet sixteen or a bachelorette parties take place in a pink stretch SUV limo. However, not all of the companies are able to offer such vehicles. Those cars are considered exotic and rare. los angeles party bus

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Aside of the fun factors, also check the paperwork of the company. The licenses should be up to date and proper, there have to be certifications for activity and insurance on the vehicles and passengers. Also, it is good to know how old the company is and how experienced it is. And check our social networking websites and review websites also.

View More: party bus los angeles

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treeremovalsservicesla · 1 year

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Why Mobile Grinding San Diego Is the Way to Go

Go as far as mobile grinding San Diego services to increase your home’s or business’s curb appeal. The experts can provide you with the answer to your current needs and results that are so dependable and constant that you may question your past landscaping choices. The dedication to customer satisfaction sets out excellent contractors from others, as any expert contractor would attest. Many individuals in San Diego are interested in hiring a mobile grinding service because they see the value of a service like that for their yard`s needs. You may consider what mobile grinding San Diego services can do to help you improve your landscaping. But today, we will examine why mobile grinding in San Diego is the way to go. It’s Easier On Your Wallet Machines may be obtained more quickly and at a lower cost when rented instead than purchased. Less time will be wasted waiting for such tools, and more may be spent making progress on the job. Besides, the real question is do you really need a stationary grinder on your property? Wouldn’t you rather rent one for the time being of your precise convenience and need? If you are eager to buy one, then, great, you can start doing some very much-needed research to find the one that is perfect for your budget and necessities. But if you don’t need one constantly or still are unable to buy one mobile grinding San Diego services is the answer for you. Going Local with your Money Many individuals hesitate to put their money into locally owned businesses, but it’s much simpler to put your faith in someone when you can put a name and sometimes even a face to the company. Maybe you know the owners or you know somebody who knows the owners, personally. That is why we advise you to always go with the local companies that have built a reputation for themselves in the business, local community, and operating area. If a community is behind you and your brand or company, you know they have been tested time and time again, resulting in successfully completed projects. Trustworthiness is built with time, and nobody can steal that from you. Mobile Grinding San Diego Utilities Imagine you have a formal event, the kind of gathering that you want everything to be perfect for. You will have people arriving at your venue, judging everything from the moment they get out of their car. But, you have an old big shabby looking stub that even interferes with the entranceway, the aesthetic of your property and so much more. Don’t you think you need, without a shadow of a doubt, to call the experts, who happen to own and handle such a tool as a mobile grinder? Who will also take care of the mulch and debris resulting from their hard work on that stump? Do you have the time and desire to take care of that task on your own? With an axe or chainsaw? These tools are just that: tools, very powerful and potentially dangerous. They’re best operated by professionals. That’s for safety, yes, but also because experts have the kind of experience to know how to use these right. Maybe renting a tool that does that for you in a safe manner is the way to go. Perhaps calling the experts and getting the right tool and the right information is the smartest move. Always Contact the Experts First! Your Way Tree Service Los Angeles is the local company you want to call. We have $2,000,000 in general liability insurance and $1,000,000 in workers’ compensation insurance to cover any damage or injury that may occur due to our services. We have proof of insurance and can send you the necessary paperwork if you would want to check it. And when working with such tools this is a must. Contact us to know more about mobile grinding in San Diego with a trustworthy company.

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fictionzsurveys · 1 year

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This past year…

who were your favorite singers, musicians, or bands?

Mitski for sure. I had her music on loop much of the first half of the year, especially her latest album. I don't think I glommed onto anything else this year.

what were some of your favorite foods?

Did you know ice cream is good? Because I'd forgotten that for decades and got back into it this year. Phish Food from Ben & Jerry's wins the gold.

what was your favorite dessert?

I suppose it was tuxedo cake, though I think that carries over from 2021. In any case, it's hard to top a cake that's just layers of vanilla and chocolate mousse.

what was the best thing that happened to you?

It’s frustrating because I feel weird about money but I got a promotion and big raise this year. It’s good of course, but I don’t like feeling joyful about it. Probably something for me to work out there.

what was the worst thing that happened to you?

I got covid. It was no worse than a cold, but it still felt strange to finally get it. All in all I guess I didn’t have a bad year.

how have you grown as a person?

Maybe in that I’m tackling big things like trying to figure out future retirement stuff and talk to my family about the future. I avoided it for years. We’re a laconic household.

what have you learned?

That I can still take on big plans like becoming a programmer. That’s my single biggest undertaking. It’ll take years but I kicked it off in 2022.

how old did you turn?

40.

what did you do for your birthday?

I had covid and wrenched my ankle so I just stayed in and read books.

what did you accomplish?

Maintained my diet regimen from 2021, visited Mexico despite my paranoia, started programming studies, got that promotion.

where did you live?

Same apartment. This was my fifth year here and I’d previously never stayed in one place for more than a year and a half.

who was your best friend?

Er, n/a.

This past year, have you….

made a new friend?

Nope.

lost a friend?

Nope.

made a new best friend?

Nope.

lost someone close to you?

Nope.

attended a funeral?

Nope.

attended a wedding?

Nope.

gave birth to a child? 🤰

Nope.

“came out of the closet”?

Nope.

traveled?

Yeah it was a big travel year in reaction to lockdown from 2020-2021. I went to Las Vegas, the Mojave desert, Mexico (Jalisco), Disneyland, San Juan Island, and Los Angeles a few times.

felt depressed? 😔

Not really. I ping pong between emotional states but usually level out.

felt suicidal? 😔

Nope.

felt happy? 😃

Sure.

felt at peace? 😊

Yeah at San Juan Island. The ocean does me good.

felt overjoyed? 💃

I think so but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was.

felt blessed? 😇

Not often enough, considering all the good things that happened.

felt amazed? 🤩

Definitely.

fallen in love? 😍

Nope.

had your heart broken? 💔

Nope.

got a new car? 🚗

Nope.

graduated? 👩‍🎓

Nope.

experienced something miraculous? ✨

Hm, I don’t think so... my continued low rent always feels like a miracle though.

had a better year than last year?

Oh yes.

had a worse year than last year?

Nope.

been to see the doctor? 👨‍⚕️

Oof, no. I’m overdue for a checkup.

been to the hospital? 🏥

Nope.

had a severe allergic reaction? 🤧

Nope.

had COVID? 🦠

Just a few weeks ago.

found out someone you knew had COVID? 🦠

Lots of people. We’ve all been getting out more.

used an epi pen? 💉

Nope.

had a fever? 🥵

Yep.

had a migraine? 🧠

Yeah a few times.

gone on a date? 🌹

Nope.

written in a journal or diary? 📔

Yeah I was keeping up with a few logs.

given someone a hug? 🤗

Yep.

cut your hair? 💇‍♀️

Every other day (I shave it).

danced around your living room? 💃

Nope.

prayed? 🙏

Nope.

worshiped Jesus?

Nope.

read the Bible? 📖

Working my way through it. I start on Psalms this month.

discovered a new favorite book? 📕

The Haunting of Hill House was great.

gone to church? ⛪️

I went in several churches, but just as a visitor during off-hours.

went for a walk in the fall? 🍁

Every day.

set up and decorated a Christmas tree? 🎄

Nope.

threw up? 🤮

Just yesterday. I think that was the only time I puked all year.

almost threw up? 🤢

Nope.

discovered a new music artist you really liked? 🎤

Mitski.

discovered a new song you really liked? 🎶

Love Me More.

seen snow? ⛄️

Only on the distant peaks.

seen beautiful fall foliage? 🍁

Of course.

gone to the beach? 🏝

Yeah I was on a bunch of different beaches. They were all Pacific beaches so it was brisk weather.

rode a bike? 🚴

I spent all last year setting up a bike and didn’t ride it at all this year. I might give it away to someone.

rode a horse? 🐎

Nope.

swam? 👙

Nope.

worn makeup? 💄

Nope.

done a craft project?

Nope.

made a scrapbook page?

Nope.

written an essay? 📝

Maybe some small ones for class.

painted something? 🎨

Nope.

drawn something? ✍️

Hm maybe a sketch somewhere.

sketched in a sketchbook?

Look up.

written someone a letter? 📝

Nope.

been to a concert? 👩‍🎤

Nope.

driven a car? 🚘

Yep.

kayaked? 🛶

Nope.

gone on a cruise? 🚢

Just a ferry and a Christmas party boat.

made a big purchase?

A Steam Deck.

moved to a new home? 🏡

Nope.

got a new pet?

Nope.

lost a pet?

Nope.

gotten a tattoo?

Nope.

gotten a new piercing?

Nope.

started a new hobby?

No new ones. I have enough for the moment.

worn a mask? 😷

All the time.

felt afraid to leave your house?

Nope.

celebrated your birthday alone?

Yep.

celebrated Christmas alone?

Nope, I was with family.

went for a long walk through the neighborhood?

All the time.

Favorites of this Year (Pick one for each.)

Song:

Love Me More by Mitski.

Book:

The Haunting of Hill House.

TV show:

Cabinet of Curiosities.

Youtube channel:

Nate the Hoof Guy. I got weirdly into watching this guy trim and maintain cow hooves. He’s got a good voice for it.

Food:

Ice cream in general, phish food in particular.

Dessert:

Besides ice cream? Tuxedo cake.

Drink:

Stone Hazy Double IPA.

Friend:

Marlyne.

Thing you did:

Stayed on San Juan Island.

Place you went:

Look up.

Person you spend time with:

Probably Marlyne, which is weird because she’s my landlord, and we hardly spend time together. But she’s cool.

Thing you did for your birthday:

Read a book I guess.

Celebrity:

Guillermo del Toro.

Website:

This one.

Emojis:

Still into :grimace: even though it’s apparently an old folks’ emoji now?

Colors:

Neon pink.

Restaurant:

That double decker spot by the water in Friday Harbor with a good view of the ferry.

Tea flavor ☕️:

Green.

Final Questions!

Would you say this past year has been a good year overall?

As we covered above, it was objectively a good year.

What are your goals for the new year?

Don’t eat meat. Continue programming studies to the point that I can make a game prototype. Just keep saving money and cut back on spending accordingly. Plan a trip to the east coast to go from Washington DC to Manhattan.

How old will you turn next year?

41.

Did you make any big mistakes this past year?

Nothing big.

Do you have any big changes coming?

Nothing planned.

How will you be celebrating New Year’s Eve this year?

I stayed at a hotel by the coast. It rained all day but then New Year’s Day was sunny so I got a nice walk on the beach.

What was the best day of this year for you, and why?

Just seeing my family in December.

What did you spend the most time doing this year?

Programming studies took up a lot of time.

#source #ssurveys #surveys #survey

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diorjadore · 3 years

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California — Vinnie Hacker

Part 1 of the California Series

—

Pairing/s: Vinnie Hacker x fem!reader

Summary: She finally made it to Los Angeles after months of planning! Looking forward to a hot girl summer with her friends, she catches the eye of a famous social media influencer.

Warning/s: Too long for my liking, mentions of eating disorder and body dysmorphia, alcohol consumption

Word count: ~2.4k words

Song Suggestion/s:

—

July 8, 2:30 pm

Finally in Los Angeles, you thought. Your supposed excitement is currently clouded by exhaustion from the long haul flight you just took, you literally crossed oceans for this, you owe yourself at least a smile. Nobody was available to pick you up since they’re preparing for the birthday dinner you planned for your best friend, Nadine. She’s turning 21 in a few weeks and you wanted to have an excuse to dress fancy and eat expensive food everywhere, from here to New York City. Yes, the Big Apple is part of your month-long trip. That you definitely are excited for despite spending your fall and spring days in Columbia University, your dream school in your dream city.

Sighing, you claimed the black car you rented and drove yourself to the hotel and being the micromanager you truly are, you specifically wanted to land at the right time for check-in. You were greeted by the bellhop as he took your luggages, yup 2 big ones and a carry-on full of shoes, bags, and outfits, it is LA after all. Drip or drown! After thanking the scrawny bellboy, you immediately plop down the plush sofa, taking a deep breath as you promise to just close your eyes for an hour.

5:00 pm

You have a reservation by 6:30 at, you guessed it, Boa Steakhouse! You hurriedly took a shower and wore your outfit, a baby pink bustier top, ordinary white jeans, your favorite J’Adior plumetis heels, matching jewelry, and a Dior bag. A few minutes for hair and makeup and voila, you’ve respawned from the dead. You picked up the Hansen’s cake you pre-ordered and you were finally on your way. To some, being late might be the end of the world but they’re your friends, they know you always are, it might be an ego thing or just being plain irresponsible, they’ll never know, you’ll never know either. Given that you were 15 minutes late, they were already seated and you respectfully greeted Celine’s parents first, they’re Los Angeles locals and part of why you’re here is because you miss their daughter dearly.

“Look at you, Y/n! So beautiful. Do you have a boyfriend?” Celine’s mom playfully complimented, you chuckled.

“Oh no, I don’t have one.” You just smiled. You honestly don’t mind not having one, being busy with college and all that. It never really crossed your mind because you were always preoccupied with academics, organizational work, internships, and life in general. It’s peaceful to say the least but of course, it gets lonely. You pushed it to the back of your mind, not ready for another responsibility, your mind is already divided enough as it is.

“Get one here, there’s a lot of good looking guys. Maybe I’ll help you find one!” That made you smile but you quickly got distracted as someone caught your eye. It’s Celine’s baby sister, Annie! You almost cried from happiness as you slightly kneeled down to be eye level with her.

“Hi, my love. I’m Y/n, nice to meet you.” You said in the most endearing voice trying to win her over. She grinned and asked you to pick her up which of course, you did. Who wouldn’t?

“Will you guys drink tonight? Y/n, how old are you?” Celine’s dad spoke for the first time catching your attention.

You shrugged but the group nodded. “I’m 20, turning 21 in a few months!” You cheered.

“But you’re 21 tonight?” Celine’s mom gave you a mischievous look, smirking. You just laughed. You’re no stranger to alcohol, nothing you can’t handle.

You gushed and pointed at the moon and Annie hugged you tightly, she’s very loving. But it’s time for her to go because Celine’s and Red’s parents have a reservation of their own at another restaurant.

“Bye, see you soon!” You grinned widely and you finally had the time to acknowledge your friends. You walked around the table kissing them all on the cheek; from Nathan, to Kade, finally Celine and her boyfriend Eli, on the other side were Eloise, Red, Gabe, and finally Nadine. You took your seat beside the birthday girl, turning slightly to your left because there was no one beside you anyways apart from the table a meter away from you. If you told Nadine in high school that this group would eventually have dinner together, so much so in a place like LA, then she would’ve laughed at you. The boys, except for Red were all basketball players, both Eloise and Red were your typical straight and queer duo, and the rest of the girls were the famous ones that everybody seemed to like. But that was 2 years ago, everybody evolved and left the labels in the past. Plus, they’re all of your and Celine’s friends so they better treat each other nicely.

Celine and Eli were the inseparable couple ever since she migrated to the States. You always joked how she should do a face reveal but she wouldn’t unless he gave her a ring. You’re one to remember because she recently posted him on her Close Friends story on Instagram. She isn’t slick. They came up to you and you grabbed her hand and joked, “Where’s the ring?” to Eli and he froze.

Celine said, “Who told you?” Shock written on her face.

“Ya’ll fold too easily.” You laughed because your intuition is never wrong. You hugged her and congratulated them. Marriage! Is she happy? Yes. Does she think it’s too soon? Also yes.

“There’s one more surprise though…” Celine dragged. Oh no, is she pregnant? Damn, the whole 9 yards.

“What?”

“I want you to be my bridesmaid!” She jumped up and down hugging her. Both of you felt like crying. Not so long ago, you just met because believe it or not, you had the same bully as hers and now you guys are all grown up, thriving. Adult life’s finally starting for her.

“Of course, what the hell!” You had tears in your eyes from the happiness. Guess this is a night for multiple celebrations.

“I have a gift for you though!” The future bride said as she gave you a box. It looks like a book.

“Oh, Waterstones! They sell The Song of Achileas Anniversary Edition.” You nonchalantly mentioned that you’ve always wanted to read that specific version. And when you opened it, you got teary eyed as you skimmed the first few pages of the blue and gold hardbound book. You bid your thanks and joked how you didn’t need bribing because you would’ve forced her to make you a bridesmaid anyway.

The food was taking so long and you were shaking, you haven’t eaten anything since lunch from the plane, you didn’t mind though because you wanted to be skinny. Nathan and Nadine took notice and asked you what’s up. You just shrugged it off but they know about your body image issues but they can’t do anything about it. They know how you struggled with body dysmorphia and how you wish you were skinnier, like those magazine girls from the early 2000s. As Kate Moss said, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” Luckily, the food finally arrived and the conversations poured like running water ranging from your hometown to frat parties. Laughter and the sounds of dinnerware clinking were the few noises to be heard from your table.

“Y/n and Nadine, do you wanna go to a frat party at Chapman University? I matched with this guy on Tinder and he invited me to his Phi Delt frat house. I would normally ask Red but I believe it’s no guys allowed.” Eloise hopefully asked the both of you. You were wary but agreed nonetheless, knowing that fraternities don’t let guys in unless it’s Pre-Rush. Eloise would be in grave danger if she went alone and Y/n would never let that happen.

The chatter died down and meals were finished and now they were preparing to order champagne and Don Julio 1942 to rowdily commence the night of drinking. The girls already had a few cocktails, a mojito being your personal favorite. No birthday is a birthday if it doesn’t have shots, of course. So you poured for everybody and drank until you could see the bottom of both bottles. You were never a lightweight so you downed some more, feeling tipsy.

It was finally time to blow out Nadine’s cake! You asked a server to get it for you from their freezer and you added some sparklers to the beautiful almond, vanilla bean, and berries cake, and of course a candle. You sang Happy Birthday and let her blow it, 21’s gonna be the best one yet. Your face illuminated by the light coming from the sparklers, your smile was truly a sight to see. You gave her a special greeting card that’s one of your inside jokes — it’s Emma Stone’s Easy A birthday card that plays Natasha Bedingfield’s Pocketful of Sunshine and she couldn’t contain her laughter. She can’t believe you remembered something from high school.

8:45 pm

You never noticed the group of guys sitting at the table right beside yours so when a curly blond boy, whom you recognized as Aaron Hull the Twitch streamer, tapped your shoulder and pointed to the guy in front of him, you were dumbfounded to see none other than Vinnie Hacker himself looking quite like he’s gonna shit his pants from nervousness. His friends took notice of his sudden change of demeanor when you walked in the room hours ago, he fell almost literally, I mean does feeling like fainting count?

His group was an odd mix too, from his best friends Jett, DJ, and Jack, to Aaron, Troy, Hub, and even Sunny, plus Eamon and Liza. They were having an advance birthday dinner for Vinnie as well. His friends kept on forcing him to tap your shoulder or do something because they know the guy, scared of girls but not moms. How is that even possible? Any who, they’re afraid he might lose the chance to know you so Aaron did it for him. You know him as the thirst trap guy from Tiktok and you followed him both there and on IG but other than that, he was a blur. You always found him pretty but paid no more attention, you can’t in all ways possible date him anyways, you thought before. You know of the people dining with him from Vinnie’s Instagram, they’re a cool bunch.

Vinnie felt as if time froze, the world around him in slow motion, and the faint piano recording in the background was suddenly muted. His eyes wide because Aaron didn’t give him any warning. Your smile snapped him out of his trance, just in time as you said your first words to him. “Hello, I’m Y/n.” You stretched your hand out and smiled, thankfully the table is near enough. He shook your hand and both of you felt a spark, his cold hand from the nerves shocking your warm ones. Both of your friend groups were now engrossed in your surreal interaction. Celine knew you found him attractive, she just didn’t think too much about it because how many lucky stars do you need to have for you to meet your social media happy crush? Much so, the Vinnie Hacker himself?

“I’m Vinnie, nice to meet you. Sorry ‘bout my friend Aaron he set me up.” The blond boy in a red bandana sheepishly said blushing, chuckling and scratching the back of his head out of embarrassment and frustration. He kicked his fellow curly blond boy under the table when you looked away.

Vinnie felt like someone lit up a wildfire inside him when you touched. What is this damn feeling? He thought to himself. His mind was racing with all the possibilities and his stomach was doing backflips, erupting butterflies, everything! Meanwhile, you tried to not give the interaction much thought on the outside, not wanting to embarrass him further. But on the inside, your heart was pounding, you can hear it even.

The night went on, your group was pretty tipsy and bold. So you did what a normal “table-mate” would do, you offered Vinnie’s friend group shots. Some denied but Vinnie, Aaron, and Troy agreed and you took the shot with them. They were quite amazed by how well you took yours because they never tasted Don Julio and they were shocked at how distinct it was. They grimaced and reached anything liquid to chase it down but they were unsuccessful. Maybe they aren’t used to hard drinks?

Nadine played with your slightly drunk ass and asked you to put your number and IG username on a napkin, as per Celine and Eloise’s instructions. They pretended that it was for Celine’s contact since you mainly communicated through IG and that she needs it while you’re in town. You paid no mind and agreed to it and then pulled Nadine to the bathroom. Celine saw this as a perfect opportunity to give it to Vinnie.

She hurried across the table to Vinnie’s and gave it to him. She said, “Here’s her number and Instagram. Knowing her, she won’t ever make a move on you, you’re lucky she even looked twice.” Vinnie just replied with a shocked “Okay.” and kept the napkin in his wallet. He better keep it well because all of this: a pretty girl and some uncomfortable feelings, don’t come often.

She’s right, you weren’t much of a people person. Just like Vinnie, you were shy and reserved, never letting anyone in to ruin the peace.

As if reading his mind, Celine continued. “But if you lose it, just ask your Purgatory team if Jasmine knows Celine. We’re friends.” She sat back at her table at the right time as you and Nadine entered the room.

You have this ethereal aura around you that’s equally charming and enticing and it’s driving Vinnie insane. Your breathtaking smile, the grace you carry yourself with, your intelligence as you talk about the most random things whenever he eavesdropped, your kindness from parents to waiters, and your humor and contagious laugh that makes everybody burst into fits. You’re an enigma that Vinnie’s too scared to solve but courageous enough to open.

—

Author’s note: Slay mama gurl purrrr let me know if you guys want another part or I don’t know make it a series LMAO I want to tho. I wrote this in 4 hours I hope it doesn’t suck! Down for suggestions :’) enjoy!

#iaswritings #vinnie #vinnie hacker #vhackerr #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker x reader #vhackerr x reader #vinnie fluff #vinnie hacker fluff #vhackerr fluff #vinnie fanfic #vinnie hacker fanfic #vhackerr fanfic #fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

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mrvdocks · 4 years

Text

Streets

His phone pinged with another comment.

BobbyBaseCamp: You should fuck her.

Kurt had to do a double take. Surely there was no way Bobby had just asked him to make a whole sex tape.

There were other ways to become famous, Kurt thought.

But he was desperate. And Bobby needed content.

Warning: some choking, sexual encounter

As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

You knew if you were late to work one more time you would be fired and then you wouldn’t be able to make rent this week, and then the crippling feeling of adulting and being a massive failure would hit you during a 3 am binge of cheap wine. You’d already promised your roommate you’d pay them back but it just seemed like a shitty week.

Your car wouldn’t start, unsurprisingly, since it had been making all sorts of noises the day before. Add it to the list of things you’d have to inevitably pay for.

You sighed, bringing your phone out and going through the apps. Lyft? Too expensive right now. Uber? Too many creeps. Spree? It was some new rideshare app you never really paid attention to until now. But the sweet sweet price of a trip from your home to work was unmistakable.

You eagerly awaited your chariot to hell, eyes glued on the screen to the driver’s name. Kurt.

He’s there almost instantly, and you have to make the connection between driver and image just in case. You can never be too careful.

“Kurt?” You ask, bending to meet him at eye level from the outside.

A notification bar from the top of your screen indicates that your card was declined and so the Spree ride was canceled. Kurt’s name disappears from your phone. You grimace, looking back to him.

“You know what? It just canceled. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’ll get some other people today. No need to worry about it.”

You raise a brow. “Are you sure? I mean I’m sure there’s someone else who needs you right now.”

Oh but I do need you. He thinks.

He gives you a smile and waves your concern away. “Hop in! Don’t worry about it.”

In his head, he thinks this might work, no trail at all. No having to break into your phone and text or call someone about your whereabouts.

You hop in the backseat, finding solace in the silence for a few moments before Kurt turns to talk to you.

“Going deep huh?”

“Sorry?”

“I meant, you know, you were going to Vine and Hollywood. Must know some big people.”

You laugh nervously, most drivers wouldn’t make small talk with you sometimes. But that would stem from you not wanting to talk to them as much. Better to keep at your own business.

“Uh yeah I guess. Even if some of them are assholes sometimes.” You chuckle.

“You know anyone personally? Maybe you could get the word out for me. Have them tag me. My handle’s KurtsWorld96.”

You chuckled to yourself. This was Los Angeles after all, particularly Hollywood. Land of people who want to be a star by any means necessary.

“Yeah sure, I’ll bring it up sometime,” you say, bringing your attention back onto your phone to pass the time.

Before you can get a look into what’s new on your timeline you notice there are cameras everywhere in the car. One facing you, one in the back, two on opposite sides of Kurt and one next to you on the other seat. Oh geez.

Have you landed into a wrong ride share service? Was this a couch situation?

Kurt must’ve noticed your silent panic as he glanced at the mirror and pointed to his cameras.

“For safety.” He assured.

You nod understandingly.

You flip back to your phone, more aware of being filmed. You have to wonder if this footage were to get out if your employers will notice you called them assholes.

Kurt glances at his phone, seeing Bobby comment.

BobbyBaseCamp: This is boring.

BobbyBaseCamp: You have to do something WTF worthy!!

Kurt rolls his eyes. Though, he knew Bobby was right in some way. If he was gonna get anywhere with this live stream and get #TheLesson out there, he’d have to do something bigger than he had planned.

You’d been nothing but pleasant to him so far, and he’d been keeping an eye out on those waters that sat a mere few inches away from you.

His phone pinged with another comment.

BobbyBaseCamp: You should fuck her.

Kurt had to do a double-take. Surely there was no way Bobby had just asked him to make a whole sex tape.

There were other ways to become famous, Kurt thought.

But he was desperate. And Bobby needed content.

It didn’t hurt that you were attractive. And while it would’ve been a shame to kill you to further his agenda, for some reason he had to try to talk himself out of it. Maybe you had a boyfriend. Maybe he wasn’t your type. Maybe you’d freak.

Bobby’s insults swirled in his head and in the comment section.

Fuck it.

Kurt swerved into an abandoned parking garage, hidden from view. Either thing he had planned today could work here, he just didn’t know it would be something else entirely.

He gets out of the car, and you finally snap from your phone daze to notice you’re not where you’re supposed to be. If anything you were somewhat still far from work.

Your eyes meet Kurt’s own as he opens the door to your side. You’re visibly confused but nonetheless move backward which lets him lean into the back and close enough to you to hover over.

It doesn’t even register that he’s kissing you until you relax under him, hands coming up to his sweatshirt. You don’t push him away yet, but revel in how he slides in between your legs awkwardly and closes the door behind him.

It had been a while, and while you weren’t complaining, you didn’t really know Kurt all that well.

Pulling back to get some air, you have to ask. “You don’t have like anything right?”

You don’t think he gets it until he responds that he’s never really done this.

One night stands were reserved for nights, right? Not abandoned parking garages in Old Hollywood territory during daylight.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He sighs, pulling back.

You don’t really know what to say. He wasn’t so bad looking. His appearance wasn’t too presenting. His hair wasn’t styled or cut, a little greasy maybe but he seemed sweet at first glance. Albeit a little socially awkward and persistent with his social following.

You answer him by lifting the ends of his sweatshirt up and over his head. He catches your drift and helps you, his tee going right after as your hands come down to his jeans. You pop the buttons, somewhat eager to unzip this complete stranger.

Kurt is faster, his fingers coming up to his mouth to lubricate. It’s the small things he’s trying to remember from porn.

Before you can get his pants down, his left-hand slides over your stomach and down into your own pants. You buck against his hand instantly, the feeling taking you by surprise and earning him a moan. You prop yourself up by your elbows and buck again, feeling his knuckle graze your most sensitive area.

He’s so focused on being able to sell this and you’re so entranced that you don’t notice when his other hand makes quick work under your bra. He squeezes lightly, thumb circling your nub. His other hand just pumping in and out of you painfully slow.

The oh so good feeling has you rolling back onto your back and moving closer to him to get the most out of his slender fingers.

The pornstar worthy moans make him smirk.

“Kurt,” you manage out, guiding him closer in between your legs and trying to get your damn jeans off.

He obliges, pulling your shirt up and over and letting it settle in the passenger seat where his camera was.

He’s quick at pulling your jeans and panties off, letting them fall somewhere in the pile. He dives back into you, legs fully spread, and locking him in. With one hand under the dip of your back and the other grasping onto your thigh roughly, he thrusts himself in, a deep grunt erupting from his chest.

He lets his head fall to the crook of your neck, muttering to himself. The feeling of you being so wet and tight makes his body go out of control. It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced.

You whine as he pulls out, your arms coming up to wrap onto his torso and bring him as close as you can manage. It doesn’t feel fair, having you be naked all the way and him just halfway there but it doesn’t matter at this point.

He thrusts back in with abandon. Grunts, moans, and heavy breaths from both of you filling the car. He pulls your left leg up to his waist, angling himself close to where when he thrusts in again and again you clutch and scratch onto his back harder than before.

Your back arches with each hard and rough thrust he gives you, your legs close in on his lower back, trying to get as much of him as you can in you greedily.

He bottoms out, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss, the action only intensifying what you were feeling tenfold. His lips leave yours and peck at your neck, collarbone, and breasts.

There was no way he was going to last long now. The feeling of you rocking and bucking to match his thrusts was euphoric and enough to make him come any second.

“Choke me.” You say breathlessly in between thrusts.

“What?” He’s out of breath as well and your request takes him by surprise but he complies and brings the hand that held your thigh to your throat. He presses his fingers down hard.

“Harder.”

Your hand reaches up to grasp his wrist as he grips your throat tighter than before. You smile in content, your eyes closing to revel at the moment.

Somehow the position of being in total control and having the opportunity to put you in some danger stimulated him even more. It fulfilled some primal desire in him.

If he couldn’t kill you, he’d have more fun edging himself.

“Don’t stop, oh god please,” you mewled, on the very cusp of release.

His fingers slipped back down in between your bodies, rubbing at you until you felt your eyes roll back.

Kurt felt close as you clenched around him. His thrusts became sloppy, the sound of skin against skin dying down. He let his head fall again, biting down onto your shoulder somewhat gently as his orgasm wracked through his body. The groan coming from him sent waves through your body and only added to your ecstasy.

But you weren’t done yet, lifting yourself and flipping the both of you over. Once you had him lying where you were, you rode out your high, grinding until you were nearly crying out from the overstimulation. The sight of him lost in pleasure, crying out and brows furrowed was a sight you knew you wouldn’t forget.

Your orgasm leaves you shaking like never before. You collapse on top of him soon after, satisfied. You almost would’ve initiated another round but instead reached for your discarded phone on the floor.

The time nearly made you jump out of the car naked, you were five minutes late.

“Shit!” You jumped, lifting yourself up and letting his cock fall back against his lower belly. “I’m late.”

As though he too was alarmed and more aware of what he just did, he sat up and you both rushed to get your clothes back on. He glanced at his phone, seeing the notifications from Bobby blowing up one after the other.

He might have to ask Bobby not to release this.

“I got it,” Kurt said, returning to the driver’s seat in a second and turning the car back on.

You fixed yourself up again, trying not to look like you just had sweaty spontaneous sex with your driver like some kind of tacky porno. All eyes would be on you.

Kurt drove like a madman and braked hard as he parked right outside the building of where you worked.

You gathered your things and rushed out of the car before turning back to bend to Kurt’s window again. “Do you have a pen?”

Kurt passed you one but instead of writing on paper, you used it to write your name and number on his hand.

Were you really giving this guy your information? He wasn’t such a bad lay, to be honest.

Feeling a blush creep up on your cheeks you smiled, “Maybe you can come over or something.”

Clearly flustered but still appreciative, he smiled back that innocent charming smile.

With that, you headed into work running and trying to come up with an excuse. Completely unaware of what was about to go down that day. Oblivious to the truth about your new crush until you went onto social media later on.

#spree #spree 2020 #kurt kunkle #joe keery #kurt kunkle x reader #joe keery x reader #anyway sorry if this is trash I really needed to vent this lol #smut #idk your consensus here but dc’s streets song really made me think of Kurt

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orionares · 3 years

Text

BTHB: Ambush

NCIS: Los Angeles

@badthingshappenbingo

-------------------------------------------------

Deeks

Weakness.

That's the best way he can describe the feeling that's been permanently scarred in his psyche since he was a child. The feeling that's drowning him every passing moment Kessler isn't in jail or preferably dead, the same feeling on the twelve hour flight to rescue Kensi in Afghanistan or the times he hid under his bed during Gordon John Brandel's numerous abuse towards his mother.

It's also what he feels now, lying on his back bloodied and barely conscious under the low flapping of an approaching helicopter . As Investigator Marty Deeks takes painful, sharp breaths , he recounts the four bodies scattered throughout the cabin around him who had ambushed him on a drive back from a surf and kidnapped him.

Two by the door, downed by two shots from the Smith & Wesson semi automatic Deeks had wrestled away from a third figure, laying in a heap near the door.

The fourth, laying at Deeks' feet with the ghost of the greedy, smug smile on his face.

"H'lp," He chokes through the blood and spit he can't bring himself to swallow. He can feel his eye swelling by the second along with the burning sharp pain with every inhale and exhale.

"....Federal agents!"

Relief at rescue should be the emotion he feels. Relief should annihilate the weakness he feels after being kicked, punched and dragged, dragged , like a worthless doll across the floor to be tortured further.

Relief at the recognition of Sam's commanding voice and the cabin door flying open doesn't erase being clobbered by shared hits across the face from his kidnappers.

"Jesus Christ."

"Oh my God- Baby!"

Tears burn in the corner of his eyes and finally fall when his wife's hands gently pat a lock of blonde hair matted with dried blood. Kensi's face is blurry in the small slit of vision in his right and eye.

"I'm going to end Westfield. Deeks, can you hear me? We're here! You're safe."

Safe can't cover the dehumanizing snarl from the three humans he had fought tooth and nail to survive. It definitely cannot cover the smirk from the scruffy mid sixties man sitting handcuffed at the boatshed.

The leader of the small back of drug runners responsible for moving shipments across the state and killing two Petty officers.

The man with blue eyes that match his, although decades older.

His father.

---------------------------------------

Callen

"You do know," Admiral Killbride warns via video call,"that you will not go in and harm our suspect the moment Blye and Hanna check in."

He sighs as the team's lead continues to pace the length 9f the table in the boatshed like a hungry cheetah circling its prey. The lack of reaction doesn't bode well for the admiral sending Fatima to 'support' Callen, also known as preventing a possible murder.

A not entirely blameless murder based on Westfield's a.k.a Gordon John-back-from-the-dead Brandel, orchestration of Deeks' ambush and kidnapping.

On the other end of the call, Grisha Callen glares at the small hall leading to the interrogation room, protected by two agents. The leadership ingrained in him screams that assaulting two fellow agents to get to the 'father'- the man that's supposed to protect and care for his child- won't help Deeks.

His phone goes off with a loud chime that grabs his attention. A text from Sam arrives with short, brief statements- Got him. Hospital. It's bad. They beat him.

Callen shoves his phone across the table and plops down in his chair. His leg bounces violently as he scowls down the closed interrogation room once more.

He cannot go in there and beat the life out of that man for nearly killing Deeks, he cannot-

"Mr. Callen."

Hetty's voice appears on his right and he nearly jumps out of skin, a rarity for a season agent. She stands in the open space in front of the stairs in her trademark dark suit, hands crossed and an unreadable peer at her agent.

"They got Deeks but Sam said-" Callen spits out before Jetty finishes for him, " it appears that they beat him. Badly. "

"How are you so calm?" He snaps and then sighs. Henrietta Lange walks to his side and pats his shoulders in a comforting manner that neither comforts nor fuels the homicidal mood he's in towards Brandel. Her expressions remain stoic and a touch pensive as she states,"Things are never what they seem, Mr. Callen. Head to Providence Saint Joseph in Burbank and meet the others there. "

Callen's shoulders sag at Hetty's answer-intertwined on riddles, hidden message and on a suspicion fueled by his gut, a warning resembling the old spy game. He pushes himself from the table and forces the calculations needed to drive the thirty miles to Burbank.

And how to feign ignorance to whatever Hetty decides to do next.

-----------------------------------------

Kensi

Flying over Los Angeles is supposed to be beautiful.

Once, Deeks had rented a helicopter ride over the city at night ten months into their marriage to fly over the downtown area. There had been no rhyme or reason for the sudden trip until they had landed with an overly chatty pilot and Deeks had sighed and told her seeing the city without death hovering over them was a nice change.

Now, the twinkle of lights towering over the sea of travelers heading home on the interstate don't register for Kensi. Even over the loud chopping blades, all Kensi can hear is Deeks' painful, whistling breaths.

She's supposed to think when this is over and he's safe, she'll admit that running across a warehouse floor past and dropping to her knees at his battered, bloodied body rivaled Mexico.

But the shared conclusion amongst the pilot, the medic, Sam and herself is that his father hired three men to beat and torture his only child.

The child that shot him three decades ago.

And that alone brings the fear- did Brandel tell these men secrets about Deeks? Did they tear into him between the kicks to the ribs, the strikes to every part of his body?

Kensi looks up to the monitor hooked up above the hospital cot. Ten minutes out- the pilot had yelled sometime ago. Deeks' heart beats relatively steady considering the wheezing under the broken ribs and the undetermined tremors that pass every moment or so.

He's still alive, drifting in and out of consciousness , based on what she hopes to be movement from his cupped hand and not a hallucination.

It's the after- Deeks' support and love doesn't hide the fear of Kessler, the fear of not being able to provide her a family and the lingering self criticism from training at FLETC. After this is over and Brandel never sees the light of day, they will sit down and talk and truly check in.

And she'll wrap her arms around him and never let him go.

------------------------------------------------

Sam

“Move.”

“Agent Hanna, I can’t -” the young NCIS agent that stands in front of the interrogation room with both hands up in defense. The man is about six inches shorter than Sam, fresh faced and younger than Sam by at least a decade. Sam raises an eyebrow when the young man quickly scans him for anything in hand or waistband that could be used to ‘talk’ with the man handcuffed behind the door.

“I will move you,” Sam growls in a low voice, “ if I need to. That man needs to answer questions regarding kidnapping and torture of a federal agent-”

The young agent briefly straightens as if mustering a bit of strength before sighing, “I have my orders from Admiral Killbride.”

Approaching footsteps stop him from snapping at the young agent. A hand tugs at his bicep before Callen’s voice breaks the tension between the two. “Sam,” the lead agent directs, “Come on- we can’t.”

Sam scowls and backs away from the now wide-eyed agent. He follows Callen to the end of the hallway before snapping, “You okay with this?”

“You know damn well I’m not,” Callen replies exasperatedly. He scratches the back of his neck and glances back to the large video screen. “You strangling an agent isn’t going to help things.”

“If it gets me closer to Brandel, I don’t care!” Sam hisses. He eyes Callen’s impassive expression and recalls part of the creed he had taken to be a Navy SEAL.

I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates.

“That man went after my little brother,” Sam admits in a softer voice. Westfield’s absolute disregard for his only child reignites the desire to ‘chat’ with the suspect. “They beat the hell out of him, G.”

Calllen’s jaw tightens but he manages to maintain a calm voice as he says, “I know. As much as I’d like...the best thing we can do right now is be at the hospital for Deeks. Sam, we will do everything to make sure that Brandel doesn’t get anywhere near Deeks again. Alright?”

He should agree and move forward, but until Brandel is behind bars, secured and suffering, he won't settle.

He can't.

------------------------------------

Brandel

Somehow, somehow, the brat is still alive.

Gordon John Brandel, now Westfield, scoffs at the innocent looking NCIS agents driving the transportation van that he's handcuffed in. The wooden bench in the back of the van reeks of wet dog, oddly reminding himself of the last time he'd been engaged in anything auto related with the police.

Car accident- Faking a death in a sparsely populated area is much easier than it should be.

The van lurches forward onto a gravel road, rocking the van slightly side to side. The rest of the drive lasts a minute before the vehicle jerks to a stop and both agents slide out of the driver and passenger door without a word.

"Is this supposed to be some sort of theatrics?" Brandel laughs. He is answered with silence for a long moment before the side door opens and a small, older woman with a leather purse over her shoulder peers up at him.

"Who the hell are you?" Brandel snaps. The woman's face is unreadable in an oddly eerie way.

"My name is Henrietta Lange, the operations manager at the Office of Special Projects," the woman replies. Brandel quickly glances beyond the small woman for the other agents and comes up empty.

Did they disappear like a ghost?

"You took one of my people," Hetty adds with a hint of anger in her voice. "You hurt one of my people."

"I took the little sh-"

"That's Investigator Deeks to you," Hetty cuts him off quickly. Brandel settles back against the side of the van. On any other day, he's sure he'd flick the tiny woman and go on his merry way.

Hetty steps closer to the van, enough for her purse to rest on the van floor. "I wanted to alert you that you lost. You tried to break him apart but Mr. Deeks is one of the strongest people I know. He is a husband, a brother, a future father and one of the many who protect this country. You, Mr. Brandel are nothing."

Brandel cocks his head to the right and growls," You don't get to speak to me like that."

"That requires respect, Mr. Brandel." Hetty slides the purse strap off of her shoulder and pulls out a red soft material wrapped by black string. "Which you lost the moment you first hurt your child.You are nothing and I want you to remember that during what happens next."

Brandel watches Hetty lift out a small vial from her bag. His stomach begins to tie into knots. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Henrietta Lange's expression finally changes into a calculated smile.

Oh. He is so dead.

-----------------------------------------

Hetty

Her little ones are all sleeping scattered in Deeks' hospital room .

Hetty Lange approaches the foot of the bed and sighs at the heaviness in her shoulder blades, metaphorically and realistically. Callen and Sam are sleeping side-by-side in chairs against the wall, both with arms crossed and chin tucked down into their chests.

Kensi sleeps soundly with her head resting on the edge of the bed with her hand extended out to her husband's side. Just as she had in Mexico, she keeps watch over her husband with the same vigil he had after Syria and Afghanistan.

Each protecting the other. For life.

Hetty walks to the opposite side of the bed in a small opening between Sam’s outstretched legs and the edge of the bed. Her view of her once detective now investigator is limited but enough to paint a picture of his injuries.

Bruises line the Investigator's jaw and across his shoulder blades. Above his left swollen eye, a large gash is covered by white bandage.

She can't even imagine the bruises and cuts on the rest of his body.

Hetty rests her hand on his and feels the anxiousness subside slightly when his finger twitches slightly in response. The operations manager chuckles softly," Oh, rest, Mr. Deeks. You've had a nightmare of a day. Rest.”

Hetty takes another glance around the room at her resting agents, inhales slowly before adding, “Your father has lost, Martin. Don’t forget that. And he will never, ever, lay a hand on you again. I should have made sure of that last time, but now, I’ve righted my wrongs. He won’t touch you- that’s a promise.”

#ncis la #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #g callen #sam hanna #hetty lange #bad things happen bingo #bad things bingo

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anagentinwriting · 3 years

Text

Lifeline - Part 2

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: ~2900

Warnings: Elevators, Angst

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Steve POV

“The 911 operator I was talking to had this great idea to use the hose to pull the little girl across the water to get her out of the pool,” Steve reminisced, sitting at the big island in the kitchen watching Sam cook.

“Dude, I was there, remember,” Sam replied. “And hasn’t it been like a week since that happened?”

“Yeah, but it was such a clever idea. I didn’t even know they could see the whole house on their monitors.”

“Who cares! It’s probably some fancy technology not available on the market yet, but if I'm hearing this correctly, it sounds like she popped Stevie’s dispatcher cherry,” Bucky joked behind him.

Steve peeked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Bucky. “My what cherry?”

“You know when you talk to a dispatcher on the phone while on scene. Danvers takes those calls most of the time, but every once in a blue moon, one of us takes it.” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows. “Who was the operator?”

“Um...YN.”

“Oh, my sister,” Thor announced in a deep voice, patting him on the shoulder and taking the stool next to him. “She is very intelligent.”

“Wait, you have a sister?” Steve asked, widening his eyes at him.

“I have two sisters, while one half-sister, but we don’t talk about her because she’s the worst,” Thor answered with pursed lips. “YN is the best though, I like to think she got the brains, I got the brawn, and well, I guess, that makes Loki the beaut of the family.” He nodded with a half shrug.

“Are we still talking about how Rogers popped his dispatcher cherry,” Carol smirked, walking into the kitchen with Valkyrie. Steve felt his face heat up as he tried to say something, but she held her hand up. “It’s okay! Everyone remembers their first time,” She winked, forcing him to shake his head.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Steve held up his hands in surrender, trying to hide the blush on his face.

_____________

You swiveled back and forth in your chair, waiting for the next call to come in. You had a half-hour left of your twelve-hour shift, and you needed a girls' night out. Living with your brother and Darryl was both a blessing and a curse. They offered you a place to stay, rent-free when you first moved here, but the amount of testosterone in that house was sometimes too much for you to handle. You tapped your fingers on your desk when your line started ringing. You sat up, letting out a deep breath, and pressed the spacebar.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello,” a male voice replied.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m making a turkey and was wondering what the internal temperature has to be?”

“You do know it’s against the law to call with a fake emergency, right?”

“Yes, but this is an emergency.”

“No, it’s not, so get off my line.” You hung up the line, shaking your head. Right away, another call came through, and you answered it.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, hello. My friends are trapped in the elevator. The elevator must have snapped or something because there was this loud bang.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“The Natural History Museum. Please hurry!”

____________

Steve sat in his unassigned assigned spot at the dining table, eating a late lunch with the team. It was the cardinal rule at Station 107: Work as a team and eat as a family. Steve never thought he'd be able to find another firehouse he enjoyed working at, considering his previous teammates and friends at his old one. He hated leaving them behind, but he needed a fresh start, and so far, Station 107 was the best second home he could ask for.

Everyone brought something to the team as every firehouse did. Captain Danvers, or Ace as she preferred to be called in the field, brought her confidence and experience, which made for a great leader they could trust and rely on. Thor had his strength and his bravery, but he did have an ego. Sam was a great motivator and could keep everyone on task while still cracking jokes. It was no wonder Sam was the head EMT at this firehouse. Valkyrie was a badass and wasn’t afraid to put people in their place. As for Bucky, Steve knew he would always be there for him till the end of the line.

The loud alarm blaring throughout the firehouse pulled Steve out of his stupor. Everyone knew what that sound meant, and they were ready to tackle whatever it might be. One after another, they slid down the firepole, pulled on their gear, and hopped in the truck, heading towards the scene. It wasn’t unusual to take calls that didn’t involve fire because whoever could get there the fastest was better than no one showing up at all.

Thor hopped behind the driver's seat of the fire engine, pulling out of the garage. Carol sat beside him, giving him directions while speaking with the dispatcher through her headset. The sirens were wailing with Val and Sam behind them in the ambulance.

“Alright, boys. We got an elevator crash at the Natural History Museum,” Carol said into her helmet mic after speaking with dispatch. “Dispatch says three students and their pregnant teacher are inside.”

“What’s the plan, Ace?” Steve asked into his helmet mic, concealing the siren blaring in the background.

“I have contacted the museum's elevator technician, and he has already locked and tagged the power on the cars. The car sits near the basement level, so we will approach from the top in the lobby. I want Thor on the winch…”

“Ahh---what,” Thor interrupted her.

“Calm down, big guy, you can have the next one.” She gave him the side-eye, making the rest of the crew chuckle. “Steve and Bucky are going to do an immediate retrieval and approach from the top. Sam and Val will set a perimeter and then treat those who come up. Then, I will help with the retrieval, and Thor with the winch,” she stated with the last part dripping in sarcasm.

“It still hurts,” Thor added, taking a right at the intersection.

Once on-site, everyone grabbed their gear and took their positions. Steve and Bucky strapped on their harnesses and helmets, switching on the flashlight. They started scaling down the elevator shaft from the lobby as Thor lowered them on the winch with the retrieving rope.

“How we looking, Steve?”

“Sexy, but not like we are trying too hard, but it’s more kind of effortless.”

“Yeah, I mean, have you seen Steve’s ass in that harness. It could be American’s Ass or more like LA’s Finest Ass,” Sam commented with a whistle, echoing in the shaft.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Steve landed on the top of the elevator, unhooking himself while Bucky did the same. “I’m down and unattached.”

“That’s what she said,” Carol responded with her head appearing in the shaft.

Thor chuckled, shaking his head. “Classic.”

Steve rolled his eyes and used his other flashlight to find the hatch on top of the elevator. He unclipped the lock, opening the hatch door, seeing the top of the lights. “I’m Fireman Rogers, please move towards the buttons. I’m going to kick the light out, so we can get you out of there.” It took a few kicks, but once it fell through, a few faces peeked up at him. “How are we doing in there?”

“Oh my god, thank god, you’re here. I thought we were gonna die,” one of the kids replied, clutching his phone in his hand.

“Calm down, Flash. Everything is fine,” the pregnant woman reassured. “Right?” She looked up at Steve with worried filled eyes, and he nodded.

“Watch out, I'm coming down.” Steve crawled down into the hatch, and Bucky passed him the spare harness. “Ma’am, you’re going up first, but first we need to get you strapped into this harness, then we’ll pull you up.” She nodded, trusting him, and allowing him to put the harness on her before Thor used the winch to pull her up.

“Okay, boys, who's going to go next?”

“I’m next,” the one they called Flash stated.

“Okay, then, how about you with the cool hat.”

“Thanks, it gives me confidence,” the kid smiled.

“And then, you,” Steve pointed to the kid wearing a Midtown School of Science and Technology shirt.

“Um...yeah--” he nodded a little too much. “--Yeah...I can go last. Get everyone else to safety first.”

“Perfect.” Steve clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this.”

___________

It turned out to be a quick rescue, and no one suffered any major injuries. Steve took some gear out to the truck and started repacking it when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned around, noticing the kid in the Midtown School of Science and Technology shirt wrapped in an ambulance blanket.

“What can I do for you, kid?”

“Peter. Peter Parker. I’m...I’m Peter Parker.” He held out his hand, and Steve shook it. “I just wanted to say thank you...thank you for saving my teacher and my friends back there. We’re on our school trip from New York, and this was an adrenaline rush experience.” Peter held up his hand, and Steve noticed it shaking.

He chuckled. “It will wear off.”

“It felt like that opening scene of that old action movie. Where John Wick saves those people that were trapped in the elevator after the bad guy tried to blow them up with a bomb. They don’t catch him obviously because it’s the opening scene, but later he puts the bomb on the bus, and that Bird Box lady has to keep driving like fifty-five miles an hour, or the bus will blow up.”

“I know the one. I think you’re thinking of Speed, but I don’t think it’s that old.”

“Yeah, yeah, that one,” he chuckled, pointing his finger at him. “It’s kind of old, I mean you’re kind of old, so it’s kind of old to you, but to me, it’s kind of new because I’m not that old.” He rambled on, his eyes widening, realizing what he was saying.

“Peter, come on. The museum is going to show us some never before seen stuff because we almost died,” the kid with the cool hat shouted from across the street.

“Coming, Ned,” he yelled back. “Thanks again, Fireman Rogers, and sorry about calling you old. I didn’t...”

“It’s okay, kid, I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Steve watched Peter run back over to his friends with a smile on his face. It was these moments when he loved his job, watching friends and families reunite after a tragedy. It was these moments where he felt like it could almost fix what he lost.

______________

You sighed, taking a seat at your usual spot at the end of the bar in Happy’s Hydrant. Happy noticed you right away and smiled, giving you a bottle of beer. You thanked him with a nod, taking a sip, and scanning the crowd. It wasn’t unusual to spot a familiar face, considering this bar was created for the heroes of Los Angeles. It welcomed all those members who served or are currently serving as first responders, but civilians were welcome, too. It’s nice to have a place to go with people you could relate to and share similar experiences with after working a twelve or twenty-four-hour shift. They understand what we go through on a day to day basis. It was one of the many reasons Happy Hogan wanted to open this bar after he retired from his Fire Chief position at Station 12.

You swiveled back and forth on your bar stool until someone familiar on the other end of the bar caught your eye. You stopped moving, your eyes not wavering from the man. Your mouth went dry, hearing your heartbeat thumping in your ears. You gulped, feeling your palms start to tingle as the muscles in your legs start to tighten. Every nerve in your body was firing, telling you to run, but it felt like if you moved an inch, he would see you, and these past three months would’ve been for nothing. He glanced your way for a brief moment, and relief flooded your whole body. You relaxed, squeezing your eyes shut as you took a few deep breaths in and out. It wasn’t him.

The weight of someone touching your shoulder makes you jump off your bar stool, and turn around to see one of the ladies you were waiting for. “Hey, it’s only me.” Carol held up her hands in surrender, giving you a reassuring smile. “Sorry, I forgot how jumpy you can be.”

“It’s okay. Lost in my head again.” You nodded, returning to your barstool.

“Thanks for giving my transfer a chance to be the shining star of my squad last week.” She nudged your side, flagging down Happy for a drink.

“Your what...with what,” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her.

“The pool, the hose, the little girl stranded on a floaty with the water electrified. Ringing any bells?”

“Ohhh, right. That one.” You took a sip of your beer. “Fireman Rhodes or was it Ronin?”

“Rogers. Steve Rogers.” You pointed the neck of your beer bottle at her and nodded. “You made quite an impression on him. He can’t stop talking about it, and it’s getting really annoying, but I guess you did pop his dispatcher cherry.” She nudged your side with an ever-growing smile on her face. You rolled your eyes at her, shaking your head. “And if single you is interested, I am sure he is willing to mingle. At least, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I’m not ready to start dating. I’m still trying to find myself after going through a terrible six-year marriage.” You gave her a half shrug, eyeing the bar. “When I am ready to date again, all I want is a nice guy.”

“Steve’s nice. Hey, you should swing by one day before your shift and meet him,” she winked, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“I haven’t even filed for divorce yet.”

“Wait--” she turned on her stool to face you “--hasn’t it been three months? Why not?”

“I don’t want him knowing where I am.”

“Doesn’t he know where Thor lives?”

“No,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Let's just say he didn’t take much interest in my life while we were together. Besides, I don’t think he'd think I’d go to Thor with how everything turned out the last time I went to him for help.

“What an asshole.” She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her beer, and you nodded. “Well, at least you know you have an admirer,” she added, making you scoff.

“Hey ladies, sorry I’m late,” Natasha greeted, taking the other stool next to you. “Clint and I checked out this noise complaint a neighbor called in. And it turns out this guy was serenading his ex-girlfriend with hopes to win her back. It was this whole thing, and we wanted to stick around to see what happened next.”

“So what happened,” Carol asked with curious eyes, wearing a mischievous smirk on her face.

“It was crazy.” She shook her head, letting out a breathy chuckle. “She came down and punched him in the face. Apparently, this dude cheated on her with, wait for it--” she drummed her hands on the bar countertop “--her brother. It was a twist I didn’t see coming, but talk about drama on duty. Sometimes I think it would be easier fighting fires or answering phones all day.”

“Oh please, Nat, you wouldn’t last a day. You would miss seeing the excitement first hand. Over the phone, you don’t get much excitement,” you replied.

“Speak for yourself,” Carol added, taking a swig of her beer. “You would love my job, Nat. You get to boss men around.”

“I kind of do that already. Besides, I don’t think I could leave Clint. He’d be lost without me,” she smirked, signaling Happy to make her a martini.

Natasha oozed confidence, which came off as intimidating to most women. When she walked into a room, all eyes were on her, but it was attention she chose to ignore. When men would buy her drinks, she'd take it to another lovely lady. Nat was all about lifting and empowering women to feel confident in their own skin. She wasn’t afraid to tell people to back off or shut up. She was the role model you wish you had when you were with him, then maybe you would've had the confidence and courage to leave sooner.

“Here you are, Nat?” Happy pushed the martini glass to her. “Are you ladies still good?” He asked, pointing to the drinks in front of you.

“Yeah, we’re good. Thanks, Happy,” you smiled at him as he walked away, shooting you a thumbs up.

“How is apartment hunting going, YN?” Nat asked, taking a sip of her martini.

“Good, I found this cute little condo a few blocks away from work. It has a modern feel to it, but I think it would be perfect for me,” you described. “I loved it when I saw the pictures. The landlord is out of town right now, but she told me it’s mine if I want it.”

“I’m so excited for you,” Nat squealed, squeezing your forearm. “You need to get out of that testosterone-filled house and get on your own two feet again.”

“Yes, you do,” Carol agreed. “What’s your softie older brother going to think of you leaving?”

“I’m going to have to break it to him slowly.”

__________

AN: Thanks for reading part 2! I hope you all are liking it so far! If you caught it there was a quote from Brooklyn 99 that I thought was too good not to put in! 😂 Also, Darryl Jacobson, if you don't remember him, he was Thor's roommate in those Marvel shorts. I thought he would be a fun and entertaining addition to this story! Also, any ideas as to why Steve left his old firehouse? Did you enjoy the little Peter Parker cameo? And what do you think Thor is going to think of her moving it? Comments always welcome, thanks again for reading!

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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

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Text

1. December 26th, 2016

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 6.4k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

A/N: welcome to chapter one of THE ONLY EXCEPTION! i’m so flipping excited i could scream!!!!!! this fic is going to be a long boi so buckle up. also thank you to @meetmeinfleetwood for supporting this fic from the start ilysm!!!! xoxo, willa

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Y/N’s dad had been having these Christmas parties for the past five years or so, each time on the 26th of December, each time packed with music industry people and lots of bottles of tequila and red wine. Her first time had been two years ago, and she had found it surprisingly enjoyable—she had expected it to be boring and to want to leave after the first hour. Instead, it was full of people she had known since she was a kid, musicians and producers and her dad’s old A&R guys who she had grown up hanging out with in recording studios and backstage at her dad’s shows. They had come to family dinners before and after her parents’ divorce, and so when she ran into them at the parties it was easy to catch them up on her life and suddenly it was after midnight and the party was emptying out.

This year she had volunteered to help set up. Her dad had rented a massive house out in the hills and it came already decorated, but it was on Y/N to make sure there were chairs set up for the music circle, a massive bar laid out and plenty of glasses ready. Her dad’s friend was making the food, eager to use the opportunity to promote the new restaurant he was opening, so when Y/N opened the door it already smelled like garlic and olive oil, her favorite scents on earth.

“Karl!” She called through the house, shutting the heavy oak door behind her. Her arms were laden with boxes of plastic glasses—her dad was too scared of the guests breaking glass ones—and she wandered into the kitchen. The tall ceilings of the entryway where a massive Christmas tree sat adorned with ornaments gave way to a modern, sleek kitchen. Karl twirled around to greet her, a grin on his face. “Smells delicious in here.”

He set down his spatula and came over, grabbing a box and giving her a kiss on each cheek. “Hello, darling. Are there more in the car?”

She shook her head, unwinding her scarf from her neck and placing it on the counter. Karl had been her father’s college roommate and somehow they’d stayed close over the years, every one of Y/N’s birthdays spent at one of Karl’s restaurants with all of her favorite dishes made special, a birthday cannoli with a candle in it for her to blow out. “This is all of the glasses. Dad told me to get the bar ready—he’s bringing the booze in a bit.”

“Hope there’s a glass of wine in there for the chef,” Karl said and Y/N chuckled—there always was a bottle of Karl’s favorite expensive wine set aside when he did one of these things and he knew it. It was part of the pay, her father always said. “Want to taste test?”

“Always.” Y/N joined Karl at the stove, eagerly tasting the sauce he was cooking. It was a simple sage butter sauce, but Karl always excelled at the most simple dishes. “Delicious, as usual,” she said.

Karl jabbered her ear off about the updates on the restaurant—they’d run into problems finding a good sous chef and he was about to do the job himself if he didn’t find someone soon—while Y/N decided where to set up the bar. Finally, she settled on a high table against the glass wall in the wide hallway between the kitchen and the sprawling dining room, which opened up onto the patio. She tugged open the accordion glass doors and breathed in the cool Los Angeles air, thankful for a relatively cold evening, since she always got overheated at parties like this, where people were crammed into every corner. Her dad seemed to know more people every year. Satisfied with the position of the table, she set out the glasses and paper napkins, before asking Karl if he had an extra cooler he’d brought with. She’d forgotten to ask her dad for one before she had left. She filled it with ice and set it next to the table with a scoop, and grabbed the special shot glasses her father had told her to bring, placing them on the table next to a bouquet of flowers.

Her job done, she wandered through the rest of the house. It was gorgeous—she wondered how her father had found it. If she remembered correctly, he had said something about it being an official venue for music and parties, he’d done a private gig here a few years back and the owners had loved him enough to offer it for this party. It’s not like anyone really had gigs on December 26th anyway. She closed all the doors to the back bedrooms, remembering her father’s request, and set up a coat closet of sorts out of the bedroom closest to the front, before heading to change into her outfit for the evening.

“Y/N!” She was securing her favorite pair of earrings in her ears when she heard her father’s voice through the halls of the house. “Where ya at, sweetheart?”

“One sec, Dad!” She grabbed the hanger she had kept her top on and shoved it into her massive purse, settling it into the back corner of the room for safety. Her father was waiting for her in the kitchen with Karl, also getting a sample of the sauce she had tried earlier.

“Hi you,” her father said when she came in. His salt and pepper hair was balding a bit, but his bright smile was what drew people in, olive skin that tanned easily in the California sun. Y/N had selected his suit for the evening, a maroon red and a black tie, something a bit out of the ordinary for him, but Y/N loved it. “Look gorgeous.”

She hugged her father tightly. She had spent Christmas with her mother, as usual, so this was the first time she’d seen her dad during the holidays. “Not too bad yourself, captain.”

“Ha!” Her father pinched her cheek softly, just as he had when she was a child. “I’ve got your present in the car, come grab it with me?”

“Sure.” They had decided to exchange gifts at the party and Y/N had hers tucked in the back pocket of her jeans—dinner on her at Karl’s new restaurant, something she’d discussed with the owner a few weeks ago. Her father’s car sat in the driveway, trunk open where boxes of alcohol laid waiting to be carried inside. “That my gift?”

“You wish,” her dad answered, and Y/N gave him a pouty look that he just shook his head at. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn’t help but hope it was cash—she needed a new computer and was running a bit short. She knew her dad would help if she asked, but she hated asking him for money.

She took the envelope and opened it, a sheet of paper and something thicker hiding between its folds. She opened the letter and found a homemade coupon of sorts, just as she had done for him.

TWO TICKETS TO ANY SHOW IN LA - NON-REFUNDABLE, FUN REQUIRED!

“Papa,” she said, giving him a beaming smile. “My favorite!” She threw her arms around his neck and he chuckled, hugging her right back.

“Just give me a few weeks heads up, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and looked back down at the letter, eyes running over her dad’s sweet words of love and pride. It was their thing—homemade cards always, never store bought, despite that neither of them could draw. “Thank you.”

“Welcome, sweetheart.”

“Now yours!” She reached into her pocket and pulled out his envelope, aptly addressed, Dad, and handed it over. Her father read her card as well, and chuckled at her drawing of them at dinner together.

He kissed her forehead gently. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said, squeezing his side. “Now let’s get all this booze out of your car before I drive away with it!” Her dad laughed and followed her to the back of the car, them each grabbing a carton of wine. There had to be enough for over a hundred people, Y/N thought to herself. Who would be new this year?

The party was in full swing, her dad’s favorite music playing softly through the speaker system, people littered all over the house with the alcohol flowing. Karl was cooking up a storm in the kitchen, his food a massive hit, and Y/N couldn’t have been happier for him. She’d caught up with her dad’s friends and people who were essentially her godparents, sharing how her job was going (fine) and her relationship prospects (non-existent), sipping tequila and red wine on rotation.

Y/N leaned against the patio railing overlooking the hills, a glass of tequila on the rocks settled in between her palms. She could hear her father’s voice in the distance calling people to come and start the music, the scrape of chairs and strumming of guitars. It was about time for her to go in, but she lingered, relishing the quiet of the night and the biting air wrapping around her. Since she didn’t play an instrument, despite her father’s attempts, this part of the evening was the part where she just sat back and observed. And also usually got quite drunk since all she had to do was drink and sing along.

“Y/N, right?” She turned around, eyes focusing on the person standing a few feet away. “I’m Harry.”

Harry Styles. How had he ended up here, and how had she not seen him yet? “Nice to meet you,” she answered, standing up straight and taking a sip of her drink. “Not going in to play?”

He shook his head. “Bit nervous, if I’m honest. Lot of talent in that room.”

She cocked her head to the side as he joined her at the railing. “You’re plenty talented,” she told him. It was true. She was a huge fan of his, had been for a while, following his work in One Direction since its inception, and now in the solo career her dad had mentioned. He was recording with some guys out at The Village a few months ago and called her at the end of the day, saying he ran into Harry Styles in the middle of a session doing some solo stuff. Said it sounded good, which she wasn’t surprised by in the slightest.

But Harry just chuckled. “Nah, those people are legends,” he said. She knew who he was talking about, too. One of the Dixie Chicks was there, some guys who had written with John Mayer and Kanye West, a dozen other Grammy-nominated musicians, some record label execs who had practically formed the industry as they knew it today, the A&R people who had found them. It was intimidating, definitely, but for Harry she didn’t think it would be.

“Just people.” She sipped on her drink, studying him. He was in a long black coat, a loose black v-neck silk shirt and red and white plaid pants that tapered at the leg, his cropped curls falling into his face slightly. He also had a tequila on the rocks gripped in his hand, rings adorning every one of his fingers. A skull, a red stone, a silver band, amongst them. “Having fun?”

He smiles at her, thankful for the change of topic. “Loads. Haven’t been at a party like this in a while.”

“What do you mean?”

The breeze passed between them, ruffling his hair a bit. “I don’t know. Just, people who didn’t really give a shit about me, if you know what I mean? Holidays can be a bit much sometimes.”

She nodded as if she understood what it felt like to be a popstar of his fame, which she didn’t, but she could imagine. “Didn’t go home?”

“My mum and sister came here, actually,” he said. “They were craving a respite from the cold English winters.”

“Well, this is definitely a respite,” Y/N said, and Harry chuckled.

Silence stretched between them and Y/N tapped her fingernails against her cup. Maybe it was time to go inside, she thought. “So, Y/N, what do you do?”

His question pulled her out of her head easily. “Brand strategy,” she answered, thankful for a comfortable topic. “I work mostly with fashion and product companies, preferably sustainable ones.”

“You like it?”

“Love it.” She did. She loved her work—she’d gone to school for it and thrown herself into it after school, loving pitching projects for clients and helping them understand their core purpose and how they could grow and evolve most authentically. “It was that or books, but I decided this was a bit more profitable. Also wasn’t too keen on living in New York.”

Harry nodded, twirling his glass in his hands. She took the opportunity to run her eyes across his face—he was gorgeous in this way that you weren’t sure was real. It was interesting to see how much he’d grown up. At 22, his cheekbones were cut and his jaw defined, his former long locks he had recently cut and Y/N liked these more, she decided. “What are your favorite writers?” He asked, pulling Y/N back into the conversation.

“That’s like asking which one of your children is your favorite,” she joked, and he chuckled, the sound music to Y/N’s ears. “Dunno, really. I read so much it’s hard to choose, you know? Reading a Louise Erdrich book right now that’s absolutely stellar. The Round House—you should give it a go if you’ve got the time.”

He pulled out his phone and she watched him type in the name to his Notes app, the action making her smile. “Been looking for a new book,” he said. “Just been reading The New Yorker and my mum about took my head off for not reading enough.” They both laughed, the sound filling the night air.

“Harry!” A man was standing in the doorway to the patio, a guitar in hand. “Come sing, mate.”

Harry glanced back at Y/N. “Coming?”

Y/N nodded and followed him inside, refilling her glass on the way. Harry handed her his, and she did the same, giving them both another glass of tequila to sip on while they listened to the circle of musicians. Someone had decided to do some Christmas tunes she Y/N smiled when she heard her father’s voice—he’d made it a bit country, just like he loved to do with popular songs. He’d grown up on a steady diet of folk music and country, just as Y/N had, and he always joked it was in his blood. Harry took a seat next to his friend who Y/N didn’t recognize—probably some producer her dad had met recently, maybe one of the guys from The Village if that was how they’d connected, and Y/N grabbed the seat her dad had saved for her next to him.

She joined in immediately, knowing this rendition of “The Little Drummer Boy” by heart, since it was the same one he had made up when Y/N was eight or nine. Karl was in the circle too, a plate of food in his hands and his bottle of red wine on the ground, and he gave her a warm smile. This was her favorite part of the night—feeling a part of something her father loved so dearly. When he gave her a kiss to her temple and introduced her to the group, she couldn’t help but find Harry’s eyes, his irises twinkling back at her under the lights.

At one o’clock, people finally began filtering out of the party, and Harry decided it was probably time for him to head. Jeff, who had invited him to come with, had already left, exhausted from the holidays with family, but Harry had stayed, hoping to talk to Y/N for a little while longer. He had unfortunately failed to catch her, though, the music running long and after it had wrapped up people had tugged her in for hugs and conversation. Despite knowing who she was through her father, he was still in awe of how intimately she knew all of these people. He overheard snippets of her conversations, asking about children and partners, parents who had cancer and career-defining moments she’d missed out on because of work. Harry was in this world too, but many of the people at this party were a bit older than his usual set—they belonged to the group of his heroes, rather than necessarily people he felt were his peers. He was still getting his solo career together, still only a boyband member in their eyes. He tried not to feel less than, but sometimes it was hard when you were sat next to Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks with utterly nothing to say but awe-inspired ramblings.

Finally, Y/N was alone, the older couple she was talking to having left for the door, and Harry seized the opportunity. “Y/N,” he said, and her head popped up from her phone to look at him. Her dark brown hair was soft against her skin, and he eagerly wondered what it felt like against his skin, brown eyes that searched his soul. “I loved talking to you earlier.”

She smiled and Harry loved it when she did. Lit up the whole room, just about. “Me too. Glad you came—with Jeff, yeah?”

He nodded. “He introduced me to your dad when we were at The Village.” Y/N nodded as well, obviously having figured out the story. “I—I was wondering, would you want to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to chat more, get to know you.” He restrained the urge to bounce on his heels, nervous in front of her. He felt like a kid asking out his crush, but that’s what this was, a crush. Even if it came to nothing, she was kind, interesting, and fit into the world he revolved in. It wasn’t the most important thing, but he appreciated it all the same.

“Oh,” she said, tone somber. “Sorry, Harry, but I don’t date musicians. Get home safe, yeah?” She turned away from him, feet carrying her back into the living room, presumably finding her father.

What? She didn’t date musicians? “I’m sorry—what?”

Y/N turned back to look at him. “I just don’t. Bit of a rule.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Don’t feel the need to explain it. Bye, Harry.” Then, she walked away and Harry was left in shock. The abrupt change in tone was like whiplash—she had seemed so interested, involved in their conversation, only to tell him she didn’t date musicians? What the fuck kind of rule was that?

He huffed and tugged out his phone to tell his driver he was ready, and went outside, leaving behind Y/N and her confusing rule. But this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her, he decided. He wanted to know why she had this rule, this stupid rule that was stopping her from getting to know him. It wasn’t like he even asked her to date him, just to get coffee for Pete’s sake. Harry sat down in the car and pulled out his phone, composing a text to Jeff.

Could I write with Peter? Seemed like a great guy, really talented. Maybe if she got to Y/N’s dad, he could earn some brownie points. Maybe then she’d bend her rules for him, because despite their short conversation, Harry was intrigued.

Definitely, Jeff replied. I’ll text him tomorrow.

Harry closed his phone and smiled. Hopefully this worked, because Harry was dying to know more about this rule of hers.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed when she pulled into her dad’s driveway. There was another car sat in the drive, a black 4-door SUV she’d never seen before, the windows tinted so she couldn’t see in. It reminded her of those cars the FBI drives in crime dramas, which obviously led her to a part of her brain that was not necessarily a hopeful place. She scrambled to grab her bag from work and her keys, launching herself from her car and towards her dad’s door.

“Dad!” She called into the house, slamming the door shut behind her. “Whose car is in the drive? Didn’t tell me we’d be having company!” Gripping the wall for balance she toed off her shoes and set her bag on the floor next to the door, shrugging off her coat and setting it on a hook. “Dad?”

“He’s in the toilet.”

Her head whipped around and found Harry Styles standing in her hallway, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. As much as she had planned to forget about him after the party, never really expecting to see him again, she hadn’t been able to. And now he was in her house, hair pushed back from his face, a grin painted on his lips. It was irritating how gorgeous he was. “The fuck are you doing here?”

A hand went up to scratch the back of his neck and for a second Y/N regretted being quite so aggressive. “‘M writing with your dad,” he explained. “Guess he didn’t tell you.”

“No,” she answered. She brushed past him into the living room where, as Harry had said, it was obvious they had been writing. Her dad’s treasured old Gibson guitar leaning against his favorite armchair where he’d set it, computers out with GarageBand up for recording demos, papers with scribbles strewn across the coffee table. “Good session?” She decided that there was no way he was here just to pursue her—he was there for professional reasons, after all. Her dad and Harry must’ve hit it off at the party last week. There was also the fact that her dad was a really fucking good songwriter, so of course Harry would want to work with him. Ever since he’d stopped touring, her dad had started doing mainly writing, his songs appearing on records from everyone from up-and-coming artists the label found him to John Legend.

Harry just nodded. Her eyes drifted to his own guitar, a soft brown wood that had obviously seen some heavy use and travel. She recognized it from her dad’s own guitars that he used to take on the road with him, the nicks and faded wood at the base of the bridge.

“Y/N!” Her dad’s voice fell through the silence of the room as he re-entered. He was wearing his favorite old UCLA shirt, where she’d just graduated from not too long ago. “Home earlier than usual. Was going to give you a heads up about this one,” he pointed to Harry then, “but I see you’ve already found out.”

Her eyes drifted to Harry, who stood awkwardly next to the couch, unsure if he should sit or stand. “Finished my projects early and didn’t have any meetings, so thought I’d get out early and surprise you.”

“Well,” her father said, giving her a quick hug, “glad you did. I’m getting hungry, how about you?” She nodded, she was always ravenous after work. “Harry, would you want to stay for dinner?”

No, she thought. The last thing she wanted was to sit at a table with a guy she’d rejected and her father and eat an awkward dinner on a Friday night. She just wanted a massive glass of red wine, her delicious romance novel from her bedside table, and maybe lighting a fire in the pit in the backyard.

Instead, Harry said, “Sure. Don’t want to impose though.”

“Nonsense! Y/N why don’t you go change and Harry and I can tidy up from working. We were about done anyway.” Her dad kissed the top of her head sweetly and she just did as he said, Harry a forgotten thought behind her as she went to her room upstairs.

It was her childhood bedroom which she had been residing in for a month now. How her landlord could put her out for this long was beyond her, but she hadn’t had the energy to fight it—plus, it was an opportunity to spend some quality time with her workaholic father. So she was spending her evenings in her light blue colored room, sleeping between her soft pink sheets, and picking her work clothes that butted up against remnants from high school she’d left behind as memories. Y/N pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt that probably belonged to an ex-fling from college—Daniel maybe? Y/N couldn’t remember. Slipping on a pair of socks to keep her feet warm from the tile floors of the kitchen, she left her room, tugging her door shut so if Harry went exploring he wouldn’t stumble into her room.

Downstairs, Harry was sat at the kitchen island with a glass of wine and a smile on his face, deep in conversation with her dad about Fleetwood Mac’s chord progressions. A glass of red was waiting for her on the counter and she picked it up, wandering over to where her dad was cooking

“Whatcha making?” She asked, peeking into the pot.

“Pasta,” he replied. “Now stop being a nosy Nelly and talk to our guest while I try to focus on not burning the pasta.”

“Dad you haven’t even put it in yet.”

Her dad shooed her from the stove and she chuckled, backing away. “Get out of here, ya pest.”

She turned to Harry, realizing her dad was actively trying to get them to hang out. He was so annoying sometimes. “How do you feel about a fire?”

“Positively,” he answered and she led him outside into her backyard.

It was chilly out, but nothing too bad. She set her glass on the table and went over to the stack of wood her dad kept against the fence, picking up some logs and carrying them over to the fire pit they’d had for years. At first it was so Y/N could roast marshmallows at home, her father trying to do anything to get her to come over to his house more after the divorce, and as time had gone on it had become her favorite place in the whole house. When her dad was out of town and she came over to check up on the house in high school, she’d bring her weed and smoke out here under the stars.

Harry sidled up next to her and picked up a few logs, following her to the fire pit. “This is cool,” he said, words breaking their silence.

Y/N dropped the logs into the fire and looked up at him. “Favorite part of the whole house.” A box of matches sat next to the door and she grabbed them, as well as some kindling, and brought it over to the logs, setting the kindling under the logs before lighting them. The fire leaped up, the wood nice and dry from the lack of rain recently. “So, who got in touch with who?”

Harry looked at her in confusion. “Huh?”

She settled into one of the chairs set by the fire, wine tucked between her fingers. “The writing. You or my dad?”

“Oh,” he answered, joining her in the chair next to her. “Me, actually. Through Jeff.”

As expected. “And?”

“He’s really good,” Harry said, to which Y/N chuckled.

“That he is.”

“What was it like growing up with him as your dad?” He asked, breaking the silence between them.

Y/N shifted in her chair. She’d been asked this question so many times over the years, but it still was hard to answer. “Hard, if I’m being honest,” she told him, truth surprising her. But she had a feeling Harry would get it to a certain extent. He was a hugely popular star, after all. She’d heard rumors that he was a part of a movie coming out this year, something historical. “Like, my parents are divorced, which I assume you know.” He nodded, probably having figured it out by now. “And with my dad’s tour schedule when I was in school, I didn’t see him all that much, especially in elementary and middle school. He was gone all the time, even missed my birthday a couple times because of tour dates, so I just didn’t really know him that well, I guess. Fuck, sorry, this is a lot,” she breathed out, realizing she was rambling. Harry was just surprisingly easy to talk to, his eyes steady on her, intently listening to her every word. Boys didn’t usually listen to her like this.

“S’fine,” he replied. “When did it change, if you don’t mind me asking? Seem so close now.”

The fire, having grown by now, crackled in front of them. “Late high school, but mainly when I was in college. My mom moved to San Francisco for a job and I went to UCLA, so my dad was closest. Came over to do my laundry sometimes, have a home cooked meal, he’d take me to dinner, that stuff. Came to football games with me, sometimes, which he always tried to be interested in but never succeeded.” Harry chuckled at that and Y/N smiled at the sound. Harry was obnoxiously pretty. Like, impossibly pretty in this way where you couldn’t help but look at him again to make sure that yes, he was a real person. And it was really fucking distracting. “His touring kind of stopped when I went into college too,” she added, trying to refocus on the conversation. “Started writing mainly, putting out music only when it suited him. He’s a lot happier now, I think.”

“That’s good,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “I’m glad you guys were able to have that kind of relationship, even if it was later.”

Y/N blinked at him, his words so kind and honest. “Me too.”

“Always been one of my fears, if I’m being honest,” he said, words soft in the cool night air. Sun was starting to set and it was getting dark around them, the light of the fire putting an orange ember to his face. “About having kids with my career, you know? I want to be a dad, but it’s like…how do I do that while being gone all the time?” His honesty shocked her, but then again Harry Styles seemed to be excelling at that in every regard. “Sorry, that’s a lot to unload on you.”

“No it isn’t,” she reassured him. “Just told you about all my daddy issues, yeah?” He chuckled, and it lightened the mood just enough. “You’ll figure it out.”

Harry nodded, taking another sip of his wine and she did the same. It was her favorite, the one her dad bought multiple of whenever she came to stay. Even though they’d gotten closer over the years, his desire to make his house perfect for her never seemed to fade. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Shoot.”

“The rule—I—why is that?”

Well, fuck. This was the exact conversation she didn’t want to have, the one she was hoping he wouldn’t bring up. “It’s actually related to what you were just saying,” she said slowly. He’d get it after everything she’d explained and the fears he shared, right? “I don’t date musicians because they’re always gone.”

Harry was quiet, absorbing her answer. It was true, they always were gone—she had every right to her rule, she told herself. She didn’t want a repeat of what her parents had experienced, what she’d experienced. Her dad’s job had ruined everything in their family, ripping her parents apart, keeping him away from her for more of the year than he was home. She didn’t want the same thing for her kids. “That’s a pretty broad stroke, isn’t it?” Harry said though, pushing back against her. “Like all musicians. Kinda a generalization ‘bout us.”

“You said it yourself,” she said, leaning forward in her chair and resting her elbows on her thighs. “You’re gone all the time. How do you build a life with someone who isn’t there half the time?”

“Devil’s advocate,” Harry said, setting his wine on the arm of his chair, “but hypothetically you’re dating someone who tours all the time. But they make you a priority, coming home and seeing you, putting your relationship first. That wouldn’t matter? You wouldn’t even take the chance that it could work out okay?”

This time it was Y/N who was quiet. “I mean, musicians only have so much control over their schedules,” she said, remembering the excuses her dad used to tell her. “Plus, it’s not the relationship that’s the problem. It’s the part when you get to marriage and kids.”

“…So it’s better to just avoid the whole thing entirely?”

Y/N nodded, her logic laid out in front of her. She’d never had to do this before—most times, guys just took her at her word and dropped it all together. Harry pushed though, wanting to understand in a way the others didn’t care enough to do. “It’s safer.”

“But then you miss out on the opportunity to fall in love with someone,” Harry says, his words like rocks in her stomach. “And what if that person was a musician?”

Y/N had a feeling they were no longer talking in hypotheticals. “We can fall in love with tons of different people.”

“No soulmates and shit for you, then?” She shook her head. She didn’t believe in all that crap, never had. Relationships were about work, effort, time. The person was important, but the life that person led mattered more to her. How much they’d prioritize the relationship, the kind of life they wanted to build. “That’s kind of depressing,” Harry said.

The fire crackled and popped. “I don’t think so. It’s…practical.”

“Love isn’t supposed to be practical, Y/N.”

Y/N found herself speechless. She didn’t have an answer for him. She’d never been in love before, that was for sure. Hadn’t found that kind of love that people like Harry write songs about and she’d often found herself wondering when it was going to happen for her. There just hadn’t been any guys that were right for her yet.

“Y/N! Harry!” She turned and her dad was in the doorway, pasta sauce splattered on his shirt. He’d always been a messy cook. “Dinner’s ready.”

Y/N took one last look at Harry before grabbing her wine and heading inside, Harry following at her heels.

After dinner, Harry decided this was his last chance at Y/N. He couldn’t exactly use the same excuse twice and after understanding her rule, he was determined to be the exception. He helped Y/N clear the plates while her dad settled in at the TV in the other room, telling them it was his time to watch the nightly news and they could clean up since he had cooked. Harry had missed being in a home like this, the kind where he got told to clean up from dinner and there was calm and normal conversation at the table, Y/N talking about her day at work and Harry sharing about his activities from his mum’s visit. It brought him a kind of peace he didn’t know he needed.

The plate clattered on the counter as he set it down, Y/N turning, her hands soapy with the water from the dishes. “Gonna break our dishes,” she said with a snort. “Be careful, please.”

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly. He’d cleared the table, so he grabbed a dish rag from the peg and joined Y/N at the sink, taking the clean dishes from the rack and drying them, stacking them on the counter since he didn’t know where they belonged in the cabinets.

They worked in silence, the only sound her dad’s TV from the other room. He could hear Rachel Maddow’s show on NBC, the same one he liked to watch, learning from her commentary on American politics that he was still trying to wrap his brain around.

“Y/N,” he said when they’d finished the dishes. “I promise I heard everything you said earlier.” She looked at him with curiosity in her eyes, trying to figure out where he was going with this. Harry tried to pick his words delicately, wanting to make sure she knew he did hear her, he was just entranced by her and couldn’t give her up. “But what is the likelihood you would be willing to give it a shot? With me?”

She took the dish towel from his hands and dried her own, considering his words. The waiting was killing him, but he didn’t want to rush her. He knew what her worries were and he was asking her to put them aside.

“We’ll take it slow,” he told her, stumbling over the words. “Promise. You set the pace, you decide about commitments. I just…” Can’t stop thinking about you.

But then Y/N surprised him by saying, “I know. I feel that way too.” His eyes widened, not believing the words from her mouth. “I’ll give it a shot,” she said slowly. “Better make the date good.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t ask again unless you’d like me to change my mind.”

“Can I get your number then?” She nodded and read it off, Harry typing the numbers into his phone next to her name. Then Harry shut up and just smiled at her, following her like a puppy dog into the other room where her dad sat watching TV. She curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket her dad had so it would cover part of her and his heart softened at how sweet she looked. He loved seeing her like this, at home, comfortable in her space. “I’m going to head out,” he said. “Thank you so much for dinner, Peter.”

Y/N’s dad turned from the TV and gave him a wide smile. “Of course, Harry. You’re welcome anytime—wouldn’t want you to get lonely out here!”

His eyes drifted to Y/N and he knew that with her around, there was never anyway he could be lonely.

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the-shared-brain-in-retrograde · 3 years

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Captain Marvel

A joint review:

I too wake up and want to fight all men. The over arching theme of this whole film is fuck all men, and we can both really get on board with that. Throughout our individual notes made whilst watching the film from opposite ends of the country we have both noted down several fuck men moments, and would like to list some of them for you now:

Don't tell me to control my emotions Jude Law. We do not know the name of Jude Law’s character in this film, and quite frankly we don’t care to. He is just Jude Law, and it’s enough to know he turns out to be a real dick. When he tried to take credit for her abilities and strength and she blasted him in the face, I (Cass) felt it in my soul. Becks clearly has no soul...[Jude Law's character will here by in be referred to as Jude Law cos I'll be fucked if I even know what his character was called. Joe something maybe?] (I looked it up it’s Yon-Rogg which I’d be happy to say on oath I’ve never heard in my life)

"There's a reason they call it a cockpit." Fuck off dickhead. We enjoyed the pool ball smashing that came straight afterwards

"How about a smile, huh?" Fucking men, I'll smile when hell freezes over you prick. Also hands up in the comments everyone who has received this remark on a night out?

"You call me 'young lady' again, I'll shove my foot up somewhere it's not supposed to be." Maria Rambeau, a million chef's kisses for you.

"I have nothing to prove to you." Fuck yeah Carol. Nothing like cutting off a man's self righteous speech by a blast to the chest, a shame there wasn't a kick in the balls too.

Blockbuster Video, a treasured memory.

@becksxoxo: Our village didn't have a blockbuster, but an independent, and my three favourites were Pound Puppies and the Legend of Big Paw, Fern Gully and the Ewoks cartoon series. Only once did we move to the big lights of York did we have a Blockbuster but I remember the abject thrill of roaming the racks of films.

@cassandrafey: I think choosing Blockbuster was so smart cos it really roots the film in time really quickly without having to say anything further. Until that point you might have been in the present, but the nostalgia kick backwards makes my brain feel a bit like a time traveller. I really miss these places. I don’t actually remember renting one film over and over (if I did it was possibly Lion King 2, a fine sequel) but I do remember the joy of going to the video shop and browsing around and picking something out for weekend watching. What was the smell of a video shop? It was almost a bit like the new car smell but not quite, nicer, with a hint of popcorn but not really cinema either. Whatever that smell was I think it’s possibly lost to time.

Nick Fury with both eyes is disconcerting but a treat to behold. The de-aging becomes less off putting the more you look at it, but it's still weird. The man does always get a good car chase in the MCU, is this written into his contract? Also the full blown sass for the start. However, he does both of these things very well so we will let them continue.

The train scene: what a moment.

Firstly, why does no one react or notice him shifting from the surfer dude to the old lady? Is this because no one makes eye contact on city trains or does this happen a lot in Los Angeles?

Secondly, why are you stopping a woman from accosting an old lady when said old lady clearly knows kung fu? Let that fight happen my guys.

Thirdly, love to see a train carriage chase. The stakes are high, and we appreciate it.

Another mountain side lair. Seriously MCU can you divulge the builders plans for these, I don't think we should have to ask again.

FRIENDSHIP - its good.

On a serious note, it is really good to see it. Its great to see female friendship between two besties on screen, not talking about a man. SO GOOD. We also loved seeing blossoming new lifelong friendships, Carol and Fury, Fury and Talos, Fury and Goose [mainly just Nicholas Joseph Fury making new friends...]

A direct quote from @cassandrafey on friendship, "its both unbearably sad and nice at the same time *wails*"

(Cass here to specify that that quote was in relation to considering your best friend lost/possibly dead, and then years later they return but they don’t remember who they were properly because half their memories have been erased. So it’s happy that you’ve got your friend back but it’s sad because you missed so much time and they’re not quite the same nooooo I’m in my feelings!)

Becks... 👀

@becksxoxo loves Goose, so much. @cassandrafey has questions. Do all Flerken look like cats? Everyone either knew what a cat was, or what a flerken was, but not both. Do Flerken always look like cats, but with tentacles, or can they be any animal but with tentacles? In the voice of the man who wants pictures of Spiderman ‘Get me answers goddamnit!’

The music in this film is fire.

Our favourites include:

Ah the 90s, what a time to be alive. Our favourite throwbacks highlighted in the film were tv tapping of the head, gotta get that signal; internet cafes, imagine having to read fanfiction in the open like that, imagine having to write it!; the everlasting loading screen, we could feel the the years drifting from our lives just watching that blue bar. @becksxoxo would really have enjoyed a little Jay and Silent Bob cameo, although Mallrats was a nice touch (aw Stan Lee).

As we mention Stan Lee I (Cass) would like to say here that I forgot that they changed the Marvel logo to honour him for this film, and that also was a little sad yet nice touch at the start. The Stan cameos will be missed.

The shock of the tesseract. Why do we always forget that’s the energy core? It seems like it should be more obvious. The sight of that glowy blue space cube does seem to get us pleasantly riled when it pops up though.

Carol Danvers, specifically. Because she is just so great:

@cassandrafey: There is a great deal to love about Carol. She’s really strong (mentally as well as physically) and a good friend, and she has a sense of humour, great hair and a sassy eyebrow game, she tries her hardest at everything, she looks for the best in people and gives second chances, and she pulls off the difficult double act of seeming really normal but also being very powerful. Maybe being normal is what makes her powerful. The relief I felt when she turned up in the end credits and you knew that she would be around for Endgame my God I thought, things will be okay now that Carol is there.

Otherwise I love that montage of her getting told no or getting knocked down, and each time she picks herself back up with ferocious determination and quietly tries again. That fucking sang to me. It shows she’s not perfect because you watch her fail, but it’s how she deals with that failure that makes me love her character even more. They thought they would break her by showing her her failures, but what they actually did was prove her resilience and ability to overcome obstacles, and she does those things for no one else but herself, she’s only proving to herself that she can do it so of course she has nothing to prove to some jumped up man ordering her about. She’s emotional and she gets told that’s not a trait that makes you strong, that she should suppress it, but what she proves is that trusting your instincts and using your emotions actually makes you stronger and better. Great to see a strong and yet realistic female character getting to lead a great movie.

That shot where they are walking out of the hanger with the aviators on:

Maria: ‘Ready to show these boys how we do it?’

Carol: ‘Higher, further, faster baby.’

Perfection. Top Gun who?

@becksxoxo would like to add, whilst pulling images and quotes together for this I had reason to search Captain Marvel on the internet, and fuck me. The backlash both the character and the film received from certain demographics of Marvel 'fans' made me so unbelievably angry. I didn't do tumblr or too much marvel fandom stuff when it came out so I wasn't fully aware of the backlash when it came out, but seeing it now makes me seethe. I don't want to linger on it, or give it any further screen time, but it really wasn't a shining example of men not being dickheads.

Glowing Carol with the good hair.

Things where we differ:

In direct contrast to The First Avenger I don’t think we differ much in opinion on this film! But here’s where we do:

Agent Phil Coulson:

@cassandrafey I am totally apathetic towards Coulson. I don’t dislike the man. It’s fine when he shows up. But otherwise I just don’t care at all. He could literally be anyone for me. In a way that’s probably a good secret agent, totally bland, couldn’t describe his face if I witnessed him do a crime. Sometimes they try to tell you bits about his character, like he does sometimes go against orders to help people, he has those baseball cards and he’s sort of nerdy about them, he seems to chat to Pepper about his love life, but also none of those things ever make me think ‘oh it’s good to know how Coulson is getting on’. This may sound harsher than intended, but for me he’s like this weirdly recurring footnote in the mcu - kind of nice from a continuity aspect but you know what it is and it’s fundamentally unimportant so you gloss over it.

(Also he shot Loki that one time, and okay Loki had fatally wounded him but I think we know by now that I can forgive Loki’s mercurial and stabby nature on account of the fact that I adore him, but hurt him back and I will remember that and hold it against you for an indefinite length of time and then denounce you as being a bland and boring side character in a small time tumblr post).

@becksxoxo I think baby Phil Coulson is adorable. I enjoyed that he got left at the Blockbuster, and that he didn't sell them out to S.H.I.E.L.D - at this point in sharing my feelings the bar is clearly set very low for the male characters...

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peeterparkr · 4 years

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perennial;tom holland|two.

chapter two: yellow alstroemeria

↳ flower meaning: friendship

chapter summary: to heal with a friend.

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angsty a bit, but confort and friendship! mentions of alcohol and mention of sex

word count: 8.1k

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles one: in which y/n decides to go back to social media and sees a surpirse.

previous chapter next chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

Hello! Here’s the next one, please, please, please tell me what you think! And please help me out, tags haven’t been working. Also, thanks to everyone who voted for the cast, you’re gonna love it, and I might announce it soon!

There are flowers that need sunlight, flowers that don’t. You needed the sun to be bright again to bloom. Good thing, sunshine was coming back to your life.

You felt like everything was going great. For the first time you were doing something that you loved and you felt like you were actually healing. It had been different from last time, you were not alone. You were loved, you were being taken care of. Tim and Emma were there for you and you were so incredibly happy you had them. It was like somehow, this time you’d be able to get things done.

Especially on that particular day, you had woken up happy. You had decided to treat yourself to some pancakes with strawberries and cherries on top. Your phone had decided to be kind to you that day, and you were, too. A happy song was the first one to play as soon as you hit the music shuffle. ‘The Tide is High’ by Blondie, the gentle notes were only adding to the perfect scenario. The flowers that your aunt had gifted you, gaillardias, were blooming, you had a smile on your face and everything seemed to be going great. You even danced a little as you were leaving the apartment and walked to the bus.

It had been a few weeks, almost a month since you’d arrived in Los Angeles, and you were thriving.

Your script finally had a name. “Dos-à-dos.” A dancing step, so simple. The 80’s dance movie no one had asked for, but somehow you knew everyone one needed. It felt different seeing your dream and vision starting to come to life.

You couldn’t help but smile, you had this feeling that something was going to happen. On the bus, you nodded your head along to the music as if it was a movie scene and the spotlight was on you. You felt like the main character just after the storm had finished. Happy notes, colourful day.

A bright glimpse in your sight, and you had even found yourself blushing. It had been so different from last time. You had friends, and god, they were such good friends. Especially because Emma and you had been healing together, some days were easier, some others weren’t, but you had each other. Dancing, laughing, crying together. Going out together, staying late at night laughing. And Tim, too. He really had his life going great. He had been offered to work in a modelling agency as a side job to his director’s assistant job. Emma was working in a costuming department, and she also did some waitressing as a side job.

You were working at the flower and coffee shop, too. It somehow made everything nice, after a long day walking to a place that smelled of coffee and flowers. Your aunt really helped you heal with the flowers, learning from them. She was so nice, and she always gave the right advice.

Hollywood, huh. Dreams seemed impossible, and yet you were reaching them. You were happy.

Because you weren’t alone. And you were working on another project with them, three film graduates healing from heartbreak can make quite a team. And it was fun, so different from London. In a city where everybody wanted to make a name for themselves. And there you were. Ending up in diners at 3 am, going out biking, being stuck in traffic with the car you’ve managed to lease for the three of you.

After a long day of work you still had a lot of happy thoughts. Emma and Tim had gotten an invitation to a party, and in Hollywood, you have to go to them, you never know who you’d end up meeting. Maybe it’s the person that will make you reach the stars, or maybe not. Like a different kind of job interview, meet the right people, make a name out for yourself.

But you didn’t want to go to a party that night, Emma had insisted on staying with you but you assured her you were doing just great.

You had decided to have fun by yourself, you had been tired and you really needed some me time.It had been a happy day, the pre-production was going phenomenal. There were still a lot of corrections going on but the casting was almost over apparently, and filming would start soon and that had you on the edge of your seat. They had said you’d like them. You trusted them. A new director had called to play in, and he’d produce, too. You’d meet him soon. Apparently, he had heard about the project and offered to be director.

Things were going great.

You poured a glass of wine from the bottle you had on the fridge, it literally only had enough for one damned glass, honestly, that’s all you needed.

You had an old vinyl player, thank god Emma and Tim had agreed on buying it with you, and you had brought some pieces of vinyl from home. You went through your vinyls, and stopped just as you saw your favourite one. The one Tom had given you on your last birthday. Your birthday.

That was going to be soon but you just liked to ignore that fact. It really didn’t matter, honestly.

But you weren’t ready to listen to anything related to Tom yet. You weren’t exactly ready to go back to Tom.

You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that every now and then he did cross your mind. That was a lie, he lived rent-free on your mind and heart 24/7. You wondered how he was doing. Had he healed? Was he still angry you left? Had he finally understood why you had left?

He hadn’t reached out for you. You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim you had texted him once, though. One final: “I’m really sorry, I love you.”

He hadn’t answered. Of course that had been stupid.

You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim, you knew how friends go: forget him. But could you? You missed him and you really had expected him to come here and maybe pull one of those stupid scenes you hated from rom coms, maybe he’d walk to your apartment, it would have to rain, but it barely ever rained in Los Angeles, but in your scenario, it would. And even if he didn’t know where you live he would show up at the door, and he would try to give a speech of how you are the only one he wants, or how both of you should forget everything and give it another chance because that’s love or whatever crap they say in romcoms, and you’d jump to his arms and kiss him and forget about everything. Kiss him again and again.

But this was real life.

So he wouldn’t.

Of course you wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that late at night you’d miss him. Or in the morning or the middle of the day. You even missed fighting with him, having to come up with silly comebacks to his stupid comments. You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that you missed his ugly face or his stupid laugh.

No, you wouldn't tell them.

But of course, that night you decided you’d have a ‘me, myself, and I’ kind of party. And so you did. Playing music that would make you happy, that you could dance along to.

And it was the day you’d decided to go back on social media. After a long, long time of not being able to be on your phone for more than 2 minutes, you logged in. You saw pictures of your brother, Emma, Tim. Pictures you’d taken of them. Something you’d gone back to, photography. It was nice. At least that way you could keep Harry’s memory alive.

Harry.

You wished you hadn’t lost him. The question he’d asked had lingered in your mind, had things been different, would it really be different?

Maybe you did think about it. How it could’ve been him. But would it? You had time to think about it.

Maybe you were trying to repress his memory because you knew he was supposed to be with Emma. But you couldn’t ignore the fact that Harry had still… tried something. Of course it was complicated.

But you knew your heart was stupid and stubborn and it belonged only to one person. Would you call him, soon?

Would Tom even answer?

Because though the time spent with him had been way shorter than the time apart, it had been strong enough to be engraved on your soul. That’s the thing about true love, or stubborn love, you love for the sake of loving. And if you were given another chance, you’d take it, no questions asked. Another hoax if you may, if he wants to. You could ruin another’s city echo. You would risk staining another street with hopeless memories only to see him again. More blank pictures, more unwearable dresses and lipsticks waiting to be kissed. A new box. You didn’t hate him. You hoped he didn’t hate you, and you wish you could turn back around to his arms.

And then… there it was. Like someone had punched you in your throat. As if you’d run out of air, and your whole body ached. You thought you’d never have that feeling again. You had only been scrolling, dancing to music, singing out loud and now… this. You heard something shattering, at first you thought it was your heart but then your senses came back to see the red wine all over your floor as the remaining broken glass had jumped and clashed.

You stared at it. That was undeniably Tom and he had Cherry’s lips on his cheek.

Why did this hurt that much? Why—why had he done this? Had he moved on? Did—he and Cherry start dating?

Had he moved on? So quickly erase your memory? And with your—cousin? You quickly locked your phone.

You quickly got back from your shock and rushed to clean everything up, pretending you hadn’t just seen what you’d seen. Pretending it had just been your imagination. And pretending you didn’t believe it.

But then you opened it again, and there he was, arms around Cherry, smile wide open, as Cherry was cupping his head and smiling against his stupid face.

And you only sensed an atrophied heart falling down shattering completely. What did you expect from him? To wait around for you? He wouldn’t.

He’d move on and of course he’d like someone like Cherry. Cherry was a goddess. A goddamn perfect goddess.

You weren’t like Cherry, of course he’d turn around to see the sculptured doll life had presented him. She was beautiful. A model like fairy queen whatever.

And you were you.

But didn’t he—love you? But of course, right you’d hurt him so much and you were a fool to think that someone like him could wait for someone like you when he’d hurt you.

It was like the damn mirror was being your worst enemy again. You were not Cherry, with her perfect eyes and lips and body. You weren’t Cherry who probably cared too little about her appearance but ended up being perfect. So careless and free. Never planning.

Tom preferred her over you, right? Because you were not enough. You felt it. Every single doubt coming to your mind. Was it your hair? Your makeup? Your body. What is it that she was a perfect fashion guru or that she wasn’t a handful like you. Was it that she probably didn’t dive in.

Or maybe that you were too easy to get over, too forgettable, nothing extraordinary. But… You had to stop yourself from going back to that place. You were okay, right?

You were you. That was great. You didn’t need anything else, and this was on him, not on you. This was him trying to date someone else for whatever reason.

You had to stop comparing yourself, no, no. But you couldn’t help it. And you went back to the picture.

But that’s the thing, you guessed, about jealousy. So, so, so jealous of her. But jealousy is a horrible feeling that only ends up killing us from the inside. God, but you were still thinking about Tom. You should’ve told Cherry, but that wouldn’t be fair play. You didn’t blame Cherry, Tom was… Tom.

But maybe you should’ve warned her that his smile was the biggest weapon he’d use against her, and tell her that maybe he’s perfect but he’ll end up making her give him her biggest weakness and he’ll use them as a weapon. That he’ll be an angel, but it’s only a disguise. He was a devil.

And that once you taste his lips you’ll never be able to live without them again. But no, Tom was only pain. Yes.

But you had to forget him now. Because he’d forgotten you. Probably he was only a mistake, someone to add to the book, but gosh, no, it couldn’t be. He was an idiot.

You looked at the picture. Why?

No, no… How could this be? Why the hell were you crying and why the hell did it feel so bad? Like a dagger coming right through you, like you couldn't breathe, everything had turned dark again.

You did the only thing you could do then, lay down and cry. Because were you going to call him and tell him to go fuck himself? You didn’t have the right to. You were the one who had gone away. But if only you hadn’t. And you had the enraging and flaming jealousy burning through you, the sadness was bigger. You’d be jealous later. And what would happen if you showed up?

Why did he do it?

This was on you. You’d given up, but it hurt so much. You couldn’t even figure out your thoughts, like a million things popping up, but nothing made sense and you couldn’t stop feeling that head and stomach ache, the heartache. You finally took a deep breath that was confused with a sob. Drowning.

It wasn’t raining in LA, yet you saw your room flooding, water entering from everywhere, and you couldn’t move. You weren’t able to breathe, you were only sinking. Had it all been in vain?

Maybe…

Maybe.

Your sorrow was too loud yet you barely made any noise, all curled up in your bed, feeling cold, and drowning, suffocating. The music was still playing, life laughing at you. And you knew it then, it was over. You were broken in two and there was no way to fix this now. Not right now. He’d given up on loving you. You’d lost him, and you wondered, would you ever try to turn back time to stop yourself from loving him if only you had known you’d end up losing him anyway.

“Y/N—no, Timmy let me handle this, let me--She’s not okay, okay, I know Tim, but you will only make things worse,” a muffled voice was heard outside your room after a while, Emma walked in to see you pitying yourself, as you danced hugging a pillow as you hummed along to the music still playing. She closed the door. “Are you okay?” She asked, and you didn’t lookup. “What a fucking stupid question of course you’re not,” she answered herself as she walked over with some takeout, another bag and two six-packs of beers. “Here, bottoms up, thought beer would go better with this” she said, handing you a beer over. It worked well as a microphone.

You sang along to the music, not even knowing when the hell you’d started playing that ABBA vinyl. She joined you, knowing that was probably what you needed. Heartaches are a weird thing, you didn’t even know what the hell you were going through, denial, probably. The cold tears kept streaming down as you were probably now in a state of denial, as you danced along your room.

And then, it hit. The pain, again. You sank to the ground and then rested against your bed.

Emma sat on the edge of the bed watching you. Emma sighed as she sank to the ground with you. you breathed in a sob as she pulled you into a hug, somehow being comforted made you even sadder.

“It’ll be okay,” she assured you. “It’ll be okay.”

You tried to soothe your sobs as you sat up. “This is stupid, why am I even crying I don’t care-”

“No, men are stupid—” Emma stated, you only chuckled softly. “Show me the picture.”

You handed her your phone, and she stared at it. Emma grimaced and then stayed incredibly quiet.

“So?”

She took a deep breath. “Okay—first we need to unfollow them both,” she said.

“But—”

She held the phone far from you as she unfollowed them. “Y/N you're going to keep going back and we don’t want that.”

You sighed, she pulled out some tissues from the bag and cleaned your face with them. You chuckled. She handed you some pills, and then walked over to your mirror, she opened a drawer and took out your makeup wipes. She walked back and wiped off the remaining makeup that hadn’t been absorbed by the tears.

“Do you think they’re—” You couldn’t even finish the question.

Emma bit her lip, knowing exactly what you’d meant. “I don’t know, I don’t know Tom enough.”

You groaned. She thought they were dating.

Emma realized it’d been the wrong answer. “It’s cause,” she paused as she took a deep breath. “Look, I didn’t know about this, you and Tom. Honestly, when Timmy told me I—I didn’t expect it you know?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, like… If you asked me anything concerning Tim and, I’d know, but... You and Tom? But guess it—”

“Didn’t make any sense, yeah I know,” you sighed.

“No, it did,” Emma said. “In a weird way. Even--,” she cleared her throat. “Harry said it once, how he wondered why you guys never dated…I never told Timmy about it but it—It made sense,” Emma nodded. “Him being in love with you made a lot of sense. that’s probably why he was always so attentive and obsessed and—”

“Yeah—Emma you’re not answering my question,” you gulped.

Emma chuckled. “What was the question?”

“They’re dating right?” You asked, showing her the screenshot.

She bit her lip, staring at it. “I don’t know.”

“Fuck, maybe not dating but—”

“Look y/n, I don’t know but—”Emma sighed. “Does it matter? This is a sign that you have to move on.”

“I don’t know why I feel this way,” you admitted.

“It’s normal.”

Was it normal? You didn’t know. But you were angry, sad, disappointed. You couldn’t even map your emotions. What were you even feeling? What was it? Jealousy? Anger? Sadness?

“I mean I guess I did ask him to move on,” you pointed out.

Emma sighed. “Didn’t you ask him to heal?” She had handed you the Chinese takeout she’d brought you as both of you sat on the floor. You stared at the food, but you weren’t even hungry.

“Isn’t it the same?”

“Not really y/n,” she said as she stared at her noodles before taking a bite. “You asked him to give you time because you wanted to try it out again.”

“I’m such an idiot.”

“Maybe it’s just a rebound,” Emma said.

“But it’s my cousin!” You cried. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“I mean you kind of—with his brother,” She pointed out.

“It’s not the same and you know that,” you rolled your eyes as she laughed .”Because -I didn’t.”

“I’m messing with you, but I know, I know but..”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. Because you really didn’t know. What was going on? What the hell?

“And cherry didn’t know?” Emma asked, as she changed the box with you, now you had the noodles and she had the chicken. It had become a habit with Emma, sharing food.

“I didn’t tell her,” you admitted.

Emma scoffed. “Oh, but come on,” Emma frowned. “Like, it was obvious, like… Please he showed up with flowers to your house? And isn’t she like a fucking flower guru or some shit why the hell didn’t she read the room?”

You finally took a bite before drinking your beer. “I...well.”

“But still no, you know what? Tom is the one who’s shit here,” Emma said.

“Is he?” You asked.

“Fuck yes,” Emma chirped. “Like, come on, what the fuck? He was so angry at you because you left saying you’d thrown it away,” she dramatized. “But he is the one to throw it all out!”

“You think?” You frowned.

Emma rolled her eyes. “I know that!” She snapped. “he—let me see the pic, again.”

You showed her again.

“I just didn’t think he’d move on that quickly you know,” you pointed out.

“Yeah I—it doesn’t add up,” Emma agreed.

“I feel stupid for feeling this way,” you sighed.

“No you’re not stupid you’re human and he’s an asshole,” she said.

“He’s not--” You gulped. “That’s—that’s the thing, okay? And I don’t want to call him that because that’s the reason as to why it all went to shit, because I called him a monster.”

“Look y/n, I know you still feel guilty about it but that man has hurt you multiple times throughout his life, he’s done some awful shit to you, and yes you hurt him too but he’s shown that he doesn’t deserve your love.”

“But I want to love him,” you said. “Or wanted.”

“Yes, alright and that’s fair,” she admitted. “But he’s a man and all men suck.”

“Right.”

You stayed quiet for a while as you both ate, sang along to the music still faintly playing in the background, changing boxes, drinking beer. Leaning against your bed, both on the floor.

“And like—Cherry is so pretty of course he’d date her,” you commented after a while.

“She’s pretty and so what?” Emma shrugged. “You’re beautiful y/n.”

“And she is—so perfect and I’m,” you continued. The poisonous thoughts coming back to you.

“Y/N no don’t you dare compare yourself to her,” Emma warned.

“But how can I not?” You stated. “She’s bloody perfect, her hair her clothes, she’s just-”

“Yeah, and look at you, you are fucking beautiful, alright? Look at you, so bloody beautiful and perfect, and talented and you’re amazing and you’ve got great music taste, but y/n don’t compare yourself to her!”

“Why not? Because we both know she’s a model and-”

“She’s attractive, yes! But you are too! You’re amazing y/n!”

“Then why did he move on? Why—why didn’t he come back for me?” You asked, and the question lingered in the air.

Emma didn’t have an answer to that question.

“I just don’t know how to feel,” you admitted. “I… I am jealous, but sad, and angry and desperate and I know I shouldn’t be.”

“I hate seeing you sad y/n,” Emma said, scooting close to you. “But it’s okay, right now you need to cry it out.”

You didn’t want to keep crying. But you needed, and just as she had said those words, the tears had streamed down again. You leaned against your friend, knowing she really was there for you, but no shoulder to cry on would soothe your sorrow.

“Yes, I’m here for you, it’s okay,” she said.

“I just thought I—” words couldn’t even come out. “it’s stupid but all this time I—I thought he’d come back to me but I guess it was just stupid.”

“No,” Emma said. “It’s not stupid.”

“I just can’t believe he moved on that quickly,” you said, sitting back up, wiping off your tears. “While I’m here crying over him and thinking about him all the goddamn time and I—I can’t believe he’d hurt me again but he probably doesn’t even know I care,” you continued with a sob, barely even breathing now. “And I—I’ve been pretending I’m doing fine but I just can’t forget about him and god it’s stupid that I keep—doing this.”

“Cry it out, you’ve gotten out of it before,” Emma said. “We don’t even know if they’re dating or-”

“No but the thing is Emma that if I fucking dared to post a pic where Timmy is in the background he’d lose his fucking mind and call me and blame me for it,” you growled. “And he’d make a scene and—And I deserve to make a scene too because—-because it’s too soon and I would’ve-” You took a deep breath as your voice was cracking. “I would’ve thought he’d wait just a little but maybe he doesn’t—I don’t even know why I’m… so upset.”

“Let it out.”

“I don’t even understand why I feel like this, jealous and sad and—I just it should be me, the one with my lips on his cheek and I am angry because maybe I shouldn’t have left! I’m here wondering what could be different, you know? And I”

“Y/n you left because of your dream.”

“And when I go back... what if I never see him again? What if we can’t even say hello or be in the same room.”

“You were like that before,” Emma said.

“But I can’t pretend he’s not the love of my life and I can’t pretend that I won’t love him for the rest of my stupid pathetic life.”

Emma didn’t say anything.

“I just... I am hurt—and I’m not making any sense. I'm just sad because I was going to call him.”

“You what?” Emma asked.

“I thought about it today, how I missed him too much but hey, not anymore, because he’s fucking dating Cherry or he’s fucking Cherry or…”

“It’s probably a rebound y/n.”

“With my bloody cousin? Is he for real?” You were exasperated.

“Men are stupid.”

“Yes but—but I just... I don’t understand this,” you sank to the floor again as you were running out of breath now, until then you noticed you were bursting into tears.

“Come here, it’s okay the pain will end,” Emma opened her arms again.

“I just thought I’d be—alright.”

“And you will, you are still thriving y/n!” She said. “They’re making a movie out of your script! You actually are doing something you love! You’re living with your best friends!” She pointed out.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” Emma frowned as she reached out for your pillow. She playfully hit you with it. “You’re fucking thriving, y/n! And you’re learning a lot of flowers, even if I can’t stand you talking all day about them, y/n you’re doing great!” She said, hitting you with the pillow after every word.

A faint smile was on your face.

“And you know what? You’ll forget about him, soon enough and we will dance and laugh and you’ll be okay,” she assured you.

“Yes.”

“But right now you need to cry and it’s okay,” Emma continued. You nodded. “Okay, what else?”

“And she—she tweeted this,” you showed her.

She frowned. “Love me, love me, say that you love me?” She frowned. “But those are lyrics, ain’t they?” She asked. “And if…Oh sis, look, that girl—Look I know this isn’t what you want to hear but it’s probably what you need to hear but that’s just a very obsessive rebound.”

“What?”

“If she’s in love with him already that’s her problem,” she pointed out.

“Really?”

“Would you fall in love with a man who was so broken?”

“...No”

“Exactly she’s digging her own hole and,-”

But you didn’t let her finish. “I just don’t want her being in my place I should—it’s… and what if he ends up actually loving her?”

Emma sighed. “You’ll find someone too, someone better who won’t hurt you and who will actually fly to another country to search for you instead of blaming it on you for leaving.”

You sighed.

“We are very much alike aren’t we, we both thought they’d come here?” Emma said.

“That’s on us being stupid for expecting something from two men,” you said.

She laughed as she opened more bottles of beer.

“It’ll be alright y/n.”

“I know but right now—“

“I know, I know we need to cry.”

Emma was definitely a friend you needed. And you were a friend to Emma. You hadn’t really had a breakdown, or was mostly helping Emma. You had so far ignored your pain until that night. Maybe because you were trying to assure yourself that it didn’t hurt as much or because you kept the hope that you’d end up together.

But Tom had moved on and you probably had to move on, too.

You woke up the next day with barely any blankets as Emma had stolen all your bed and pillows. You were sore and your eyes hurt from crying.

But you knew this didn’t feel as bad. Somehow it didn’t feel like after the club, or after prom, or after the script, or after whatever.

No. Yes, it hurt. But it felt like a normal kind of pain, like when Louis had broken up with you. Or like when Timmy had tried to start dating another girl just after your breakup. Not the Tom pain.

But it still hurt.

You woke up and you saw Tim, a cup of coffee in his hand as he was leaning against the counter, he was scrolling on his phone.

You walked over and poured some coffee for yourself. You needed some energy after spending all night crying. The morning routine had an unspoken rule, whoever woke up first would make coffee for everyone.

Timmy looked up at you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said.

“Did you get some sleep?” He asked. “Emma is a snorer, so—“

You chuckled. “Yeah, I know,” you sighed as you stared at your coffee.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

You pursed your lips and then shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Emma didn’t tell me what happened,” he admitted.

You frowned. “She didn’t?”

“No, she said I’m a man and I don’t deserve to know,” he said chuckling.

You laughed. “Yeah.”

He grinned. “I mean I kind of can assume what happened.”

“Do you follow Cherry on Instagram?”

“I do not,” he scowled. “But it’s—About Tom. Right?”

“Yeah. Tom’s an idiot.”

“But that’s no news,” Timmy pointed out with a smirk.

You chuckled slightly. “No, I know, same old story.”

Timmy watched you. “But what happened?”

You pulled out your phone and showed the screenshot. It probably would be a good idea to delete it and pretend it didn’t exist. But sometimes we are idiots and like to keep adding salt to the wound.

Timmy grimaced looking at it.

“Verdict?” You asked. “Are they a thing?”

“No,” Timmy assured you. “Knowing Tom,” he said. “He did this to hurt you.”

That—that hurt even more. Because Tim was right. Knowing Tom, this was his way of getting back to you. Knowing Tom he had expected you to see it and cry.

And maybe he had even expected you to call and yell at him.

And that’s when you did hear more shattering, this time it wasn’t a cup, this time it wasn’t the glass of wine. It was your heart and it was undeniable. You could hear it again. The rain pouring down, the ripped off stomach. There it was… the Tom pain.

You hadn’t seen it that way. But it made sense. It hurt more to think that this probably was on purpose. That Tom hadn’t moved on, that Tom was doing this purposely. That he probably expected you to be on the floor tearing yourself apart. Because Tom was probably taking his revenge. And Tom knew that you’d end up comparing yourself. Because that was Tom, he used your weaknesses as his biggest weapons. But you didn’t want to go to war again, no. You had changed, you’d bloom and blossom.

Yet you could only wonder, who dares to plant flowers on a battlefield?

“Y/N?” Timmy asked.

You only took a deep breath. “I’m—Yeah, you’re right.”

“Yeah, he probably thinks this is the way back to your heart, make you jealous or something,” Timmy said. “Nothing to worry about. I’m—Look, I’m pretty sure he still loves you but he’s an idiot.”

Big idiot wanting to tear you apart.

“You know I don’t understand why I’m —feeling this way,” you admitted. Now knowing you were angry and disappointed. Because he probably really wanted to hurt you, give you a spoon of your own medicine. “I—I don’t understand. How many more tears will I have to shed to get over him?”

“We all wonder about that,” Tim nodded.

“I just—I still, I don’t understand why he does that and why even after he does those things I keep loving him.”

“I think you were told so many times that he hurts you because he likes you that you ended up believing it and allowing it,” Timmy explained. “Maybe that’s why you are having trouble getting used to having people who care.”

You didn’t answer anything. He was right. He was so right.

“I guess but I didn’t...I thought this time.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I thought this time it would be different, you know? I thought we would heal and then… have another chance.”

It was so difficult talking about this with Tim. You didn’t know where he was standing with you. But somehow, it had always been easy talking about anything with Tim, he listened. That was his gift. He listened and he was observant so he gave you exactly what you knew was right. His advice even if it hurt him, would be right.

“Maybe you will,” Timmy shrugged. “But you can’t keep yourself tied to him, y/n. It’s—hurtful to keep trying to reach for something that won’t hold back your hand. Give it time. And look, I’m not telling you to move on, because fuck, moving on when you’re in so deep is hard, but be kind to your heart. Don’t let it ache. Not for someone who’s willing to hurt you. And maybe you’ll go back to him, or end up with someone else, but he needs to grow. And if life really wants you to be with him, then life will give you a chance, but I don’t understand why you want to be with someone who does this kind of thing.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, is there anything I can do to help?”

You sighed with a smile. “Turn back time, maybe, get me out of my trance.”

“It’s a big city, y/n, we can take the day off, have fun you know? Go to a quiet place, I know that helps you.”

“I don’t know Tim.”

“C’mon, let’s get you out, have some fun,” he insisted.

“Maybe later, I need to assimilate things. Today I’m going to be at a meeting with casting and—yeah.”

The day felt… plain. The usual feeling you were so used to, the Tom pain. But you ignored it, and you saw the cast, it got you excited and back on track. It made you forget about it, about everything, really.

They still hadn’t told you who’d be directing, but he’d arrive next week. They told you that he had personally reached out for the project, a new director. Exciting news, right? But you couldn’t care about them, because you couldn't ignore the ache. The thoughts, the poison. No matter how sunny the day was, you felt gray. And it was almost ironic. How the day before you felt like everything was great, like rain on your wedding day. Ironic. How it was one of the best things that ever happened to you and you weren’t able to enjoy it. How it weighed on your chest.

Your aunt noticed you were sad, but she didn’t ask about it. You guessed she probably had seen the picture, too. It was her daughter, after all. Serving coffee and making flower arrangements did help, somehow. You know, help as much as it could with the sadness that was not allowed to cry and was supposed to smile instead.

You thought about it, how you really wanted to hate him. The city was too bright and happy and you couldn’t escape, you still didn’t think you’d lost him. Maybe that was your pathetic way of pretending it wasn’t over.

Emma tried to convince you to go out that night. You didn’t. She gave you a week, watching movies with you, letting you listen to music, going out to quiet places for dinner, staying up late at night either laughing or crying, and you were really bonding, watching series, sometimes just laying down on the bed together, while you were both on your phones.. Even if she tried to convince you to go out clubbing, and go out and meet someone, she even tried to make you open tinder, you really didn’t have the energy for it. But Timmy had stopped her from trying.

“That’s her way of healing, she likes quiet,” you had heard Timmy warn her.

“But she needs to keep herself busy,” Emma had said.

“I know her, give her a few quiet days.”

“But she’s a fucking mess,” Emma had said. “I saw her add champagne to her green juice this morning.”

“Like a green juice mimosa?” Timmy asked.

“She’s a mess!” Emma said.

“I know, but she needs quiet, and hugs and just, don’t push her,” Timmy continued. “If not, we’ll use your way.”

In that sense, Timmy knew you. That’s probably why he’d suggest movie nights, the three of you. You’d found a place that played old films, you went there, once.

And a week had gone by, and you weren’t doing better. But you knew it was normal, it was the Tom pain, the Tom effect. The one that didn’t go away easily. The one that lasted, the one that would stay forever. The perennial type of pain, that may be dormant for a while but would come once again. The Tom pain.

But you felt… that horrible thought came back. How she was prettier or skinnier or smarter or perfect and that maybe he hadn’t done it because he wanted to hurt you. That he genuinely liked her. And why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he like her over you? She seemed more of the type fit for him and not you. She was probably the kind of girl that he would like to be seen with. Not you.

Cherry. Cherry. Cherry. It was funny how she was named after Cherryblossoms. Meaning renewal. And that was Tom’s new model, wasn’t it?

Poisonous thoughts that were killing you slowly. And that constant headache.

“Okay, that’s it, we’re doing it my way,” Emma had stated. You’d be going out that night, which you only wondered if it was right. You couldn’t be hungover the next day since you’d be meeting the director. Finally.

But Emma had convinced you. You dressed up, and showered with perfume, and you were ready to simply forget about him. Of course Emma stopped you and then did your makeup and made you change your outfit, which obviously hadn’t been picked out well, but who really gets fashion when they’re broken hearted.

The three roommates, out and happy. Walking into a club, more like a bar sort of place with a dance floor, the three of you sat by the bar.

“Alright, y/n, here’s the thing we’re gonna do some shots,” Emma stated as she ordered shots for the three of you. “And look, I’ve heard you and right now, y/n, we need… We just need you to forget about him, alright?”

“Fine.”

And so it started, the party you so well needed. Maybe you’d changed enough that quiet was definitely not what you needed. And maybe Emma had been right all along. You needed fun. And so fun you had, and you kept drinking and singing along to the music and Emma even dragged you to the dance floor. Yelling lyrics, coming up with new ones and terrible dance steps. Timmy only stayed behind watching you both, he was very amused by the situation. He knew this wasn’t really your thing but, it was fun and exciting and thrilling.

Then the second part of Emma’s plan started, she walked back to the bar and made you sit there.

“Now we wait.”

“For what?” You asked.

“Please, give it two seconds and men will come like this,” she snapped. “They’re soooo desperate, and we’re pretty and we need free booze, so,” she grinned. You could tell she was tipsy by now.

“I don’t really want to… flirt with anyone,” you said.

“Flirt,” she scoffed. “C’mon y/n, you need a cleanse! Tom’s the last man you slept with right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Timmy laughed.

“Oh, please, Tim, did you think that she wouldn’t sleep with that guy who’s basically sex on legs,” Emma said.

Timmy blinked. “That’s a very weird way to talk about your ex financés brother.”

You laughed. “Sex on legs? Oh come on, I didn’t sleep with him for that.”

“I get it, you were in loooove all that shit,” Emma continued. “And it’s been… What? Two months?” She asked.

“Almost three, yeah,” you rolled your eyes.

“See? You need one good hook up and you’ll be fine,” Emma said.

Timmy chuckled. “Does that even work?”

“Good question, have you hooked up with anybody?” You asked. “Because if you have and you’re still-”

“No, I haven’t,” Emma admitted. “I’ve… made out with some guys but nothing really, but maybe that’s what we both need. Or the three of us, just one… random hookup. We need someone to fuck those guys out of our system.”

Timmy and you shared a questioning look.

“I don’t really—“

“Now, Timmy please leave otherwise you’ll ruin the place, go pick up some girl and dance with her,” Emma ordered.

Timmy didn’t even have time to say anything before Emma was pushing him away.

Soon enough, Emma was right, two guys had approached the two of you and offered to buy you both drinks. The conversation was boring. Honestly you didn’t even listen to their names, they were probably the stereotype of guys who feel they’re attractive enough to get their shot in Hollywood. They were talking and talking, the guy interested in Emma wasn’t half as bad, but you still didn’t stand him. Eventually the guy with Emma managed to get her to the dance floor and the guy with you realized you were not all interested and thank god, eventually walked away.

Two other guys tried to creep up on you but you threw them away, easily and quickly. You were very good at making them go away, maybe that was why Tom had… No, you had to keep that thought out of your head.

“Hello, ma’am May I buy you a drink?” you heard a voice behind you.

You laughed. “Timmy.”

He grinned as he sat beside you. “I’m sorry I just saw a beautiful girl all by herself and I want to buy her a drink.”

“Please don’t,” you grinned.

“I’m just trying to cheer you up,” he admitted, laughing as he took a sip of his own drink.

“Aren’t you interfering with Emma’s plan?” You asked.

He rolled his eyes. “I thought you were doing that yourself by rejecting everyone approaching you,” he claimed.

“Yes I just don’t think that a one night stand with meaningless sex will help me,” you said.

“I agree with that,” he conceded.

You looked around at the bar, you had had fun when you had danced with your friends but not now. Timmy lit up a cigarette and offered you one, you never were a smoker but a cigarette seemed like an open invitation. “I didn’t want to come,” you admitted.

“I didn’t either,” Timmy said.

“But you always go out with her, you like it.”

“No… Well, yeah, because I know this is helping her, not because I like it, you know this isn’t really my thing but she’s keeping herself distracted, that's her way of healing,” Timmy said.

“Huh, right,” you nodded.

“And I know yours involves watching movies in a quiet place, and curling up and all that things,” he continued.

“Yeah,” you smiled sadly.

“He’s an idiot you know,” he looked down at his cigarette.

“Yes he is,” you nodded in agreement as you sipped from your drink.

“Letting you go?” He scoffed, rolling eyes and shaking his head. “Although I do admit it was pretty smart.”

“What?” you frowned with a chuckle.

“I should’ve thought about it,” he continued with a smirk.

“What?” You playfully nudged him.

“Dating your cousin, that’s clever, closest thing to the actual thing,” he snickered.

“Oh thing then,” you laughed.

He chuckled and then looked away with a silly smile. “Yes, but she’s not half as pretty.”

“She is a goddamn model,” you chided.

Tim coughed. “As an actual model,” he reminded you with a smug smirk.

“Oh shut up,” you chuckled.

“As an actual model, I can tell you that she’s not half as pretty as you are,” he assured you.

You blushed. “You’re blind.”

He grinned. “Hmm I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

“I’d see a mess,” you stated.

“Yeah, who drinks green juice mimosas apparently,” he laughed. “But… Pretty mess.”

You laughed. “It’s not...It’s a thing. Green mimosas.”

“It’s not,” he turned serious.

You only grinned.

“So what’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?” He asked.

“I’m having fun,” you stated. “Ain’t that obvious?”

“You’re not from around here are you?” He chuckled.

“What gave it away?” You smirked.

“So what brought you to Hollywood?” He laughed.

“What brings everyone I guess, a hopeful promise,” you lied.

He grinned. “Hm, and how’s that going?”

“Huh,” you chuckled.

You didn’t even realize where the conversation had gone to. You ordered drinks, laughed and watched Emma yet again, like Tim had said, turn down another man. Drunkenly the three of you managed to get back home, but you and Tim kept talking and talking, and laughing.

After Emma, too drunk to even continue, was tucked in her bed, you and Tim headed to the couch where you both kept talking about silly things. His job, your job, about the project the three of you were planning, everything but Tom. The difference of being here in LA, how you missed London, but didn’t at the same time, the way that you both found funny people in the bus or the way you hadn’t crossed into any celebrity yet. About the script, and how it felt weird to see it come true, with your life, your love story. Was it love? How different it felt, and how you barely believed it. The way that you didn’t know what to write next.

And you didn’t know how it happened, really. You couldn’t even tell if it had been the alcohol, the conversation, the heartache, a combination of those three things, or maybe not. The absence of love, or how it felt like you had never really had one last proper kiss.

But his lips were on yours. And you really didn’t mind that his hands were pulling you close to him. You really, truly didn’t mind.

Except for the fact that you probably didn’t care and he did.

You pulled away as you felt his hand exploring a bit more than necessary.

“Timmy this isn’t —this isn’t okay,” you said but you weren’t stopping, and he didn’t either. “I don’t want to trick you into doing this,” you said.

“You’re not tricking me,” Tim said as he pulled away. “We both...Fuck this is wrong,” but his lips were back on yours, and your hands were on the hem of his shirt.

“But, no, no,” you finally pulled away. “Tim, no, no, I… can’t.”

“I know, I know, but…”

“I can’t do this to you.”

“I’m not complaining,” he pushed.

“But…”You didn’t even know what the hell you were doing. “I…”

He didn’t even let you finish as he was kissing you again. And again, and again, and again. Until clothes were on your bedroom floor, sweaty wandering hands and lips discovering new spots. Sweet new sensations, and savoury rough kisses. Colliding again, and again, and again. You really didn’t know what you were doing, he probably didn’t either. Because yes, flowers need sunlight, but somehow, something was blooming in the dark.

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lost-in-the-80s · 3 years

Text

Winter Memories

Pairing: Axl Rose x reader

Words: 3,808k

Summary: The pressure of making a new album is finally hitting Axl. To get rid of some stress he decides to take a trip to Norway, however, he did not expect to meet a mysterious woman there. (smut + angst)

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you like it! Tell me if you want a part 2! There will be a few lines in norwegian, but the translations will be below in italics ;)

Warnings: Mature content, swearing and unprotected sex. (Use a condom, guys!)

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @ladieswttda @teasid @metalheartofgold @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @rumoured-whispers @normatural add yourself to my tag list :)

Part 2

It had been a busy week and Axl's frustration was reaching extremely high levels.

Making an album was not an easy task, it required a lot of work and dedication, especially when the bandleader was Axl. Known for being a perfectionist, Axl expected nothing less than perfection for the band's third and fourth albums.

He understood why his bandmates were so tired, Axl had made them redo each song countless times and that was exhausting, but it was even more exhausting for him, who stayed in the studio for hours after his friends left, doing the vocals as many times as he could.

Axl realized he needed to relax when he ended up taking all his anger out on the supermarket attendant last week. She hadn't done anything much, just asked for an autograph, but the stress accumulated in his body made him be rude to her.

That night he decided that he needed time away from it all, that he needed time just for him so he could calm down.

It was December and the clear California sun was starting to get paler, accompanied by a cold breeze coming in the late afternoon. But he knew it wouldn't get much colder, after all, Los Angeles was one of the hottest cities in the United States.

Furthermore, he would not find peace in such a busy place. The chances of someone showing up at his door out of nowhere or calling insisting for him to go out were too high to risk.

Following the advice of a friend, Axl decided to go north, to Norway, more precisely. He wanted to see the snow again, wanted to feel the cold winter wind and visit a place he had never been to before.

After notifying the band and advancing some things in the studio, he left. Catching a plane on Friday afternoon, lusting to reach a small isolated town in the center of the country in the morning.

His assistant had managed to rent a room in a small, comfortable cottage near a mountain, where he could learn to ski.

After spending countless hours on the flight and two more hours driving a rental car to the place, he finally arrived.

The view was incredible, the contrast of the snow on the ground and the blue of the sky baffled him.

Entering the reception of the cottage, Axl was greeted by an old lady, who took him to his room while telling him about how the cottage had been built by her grandparents and that the house used to creak with the wind at night.

His room was very spacious, the walls and floor were the same types of wood, in the center of the room, there was a double bed with white sheets and a thick red plaid blanket. In front of the bed was a large fireplace, already lit by someone from the cottage.

The bathroom was on the left, next to the entrance door, it was small, but it had a large bathtub and the lady had assured him that the water was very hot. To his right was a large glass window that overlooked a vast field of snow-covered pines and a large mountain in the background. There was a small sofa under the window, accompanied by a small wooden table, the same color as the bedside tables.

It was different from what he was used to, but he liked the location.

After leaving his bags in the room and putting on another blouse, Axl decided to go down to the cottage's dining room for breakfast. Taking a large cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, he sat down at a table in the far corner, next to a window.

He hugged the cup with his hands, hoping the act would warm them up. He heard footsteps on the stairs and it was at that moment that he saw her coming. She was beautiful as an angel, her eyes looked like a cat's, which told him she was unpredictable, but her smile was sweet when she greeted the owner of the place.

"God morgen, Anna!" She waved to the lady.

"Good morning, Anna!"

“God morgen, Y/N! Du våknet endelig!”

“Good morning, Y/N! At least you woke up”

She laughed and Axl felt like he was in a trance. He didn't understand what she said, so he assumed she was a local.

Sensing his gaze, she finally looked in his direction. Her expression changed, the sweet smile disappeared and her eyes began to transmit lust. She looked him up and down before picking up her breakfast and sitting at a table.

Axl ate, but every little bit he found himself looking in her direction, only to realize that she was already looking at him, like a predator looking at the victim.

After eating, Axl got in his car and drove towards the mountain ski station, putting on the right clothes and getting a ski board, an instructor taught Axl the basic moves and instructed him to stay in a specific area, where the beginners stayed.

After a good 30 minutes, Axl realized that perhaps skiing was not his thing. He fell numerous times and was unable to move properly on the board. Irritation started to form inside his body and when he was about to damn everything to hell and go back to the cottage, he heard her voice near him.

"Flytt deg!"

"Get out of the way!"

He looked back just in time to see that she was approaching him at high speed, trying to get out of her way as fast as possible, Axl tripped on his own feet and ended up landing face first in the snow.

He heard her laugh again and when he noticed a small hand covered by a glove was being extended towards him. Axl looked up and saw her face, she was still laughing.

Accepting the offer, she helped Axl to get up again.

"Unnskyldning." She gave a small smile, trying to contain her laughter.

"I’m sorry."

"What?" Axl frowned, trying to understand what she had said.

"Ah, sorry, I thought you were from here!" Her accent made Axl smile, he found the sound cute.

"Well, I'm not."

"I am, Y/N, by the way." She offered her hand for him to greet her.

"Axl!" He shook her hand.

"I liked your name! Is this your first time here? ”

"It actually is." He scratched the back of his neck.

“I live in Oslo, but I come here every year at this time. It's nice to relax. ”

"I hope so!" He gave her a small smile.

"Having trouble skiing?"

"To tell the truth, yes."

"Do you want me to teach you?"

"Would you do it?"

"Sure, what kind of Norwegian would I be if I saw someone here without enjoying the best part of winter?"

He smiled at her.

For the next few hours, Y/N taught Axl as best as she could, always encouraging him not to give up whenever he fell or fell out of balance.

When Axl finally came down a small part of the mountain without difficulty, she clapped her hands and shouted at him, celebrating his victory.

"Now nobody else can say that you are a tourist." She laughed, making him smile.

We should go back to the cottage, it's almost three o'clock, it's going to get dark soon.

"Is it getting dark so early in here?"

"It's December baby, from now on the days will get shorter and shorter."

The nickname made him smile again.

"Are you driving?" He asked when they were returning the clothes and equipment to the company.

“No, I came by bus. I don't trust the roads much at this time of year. ”

"Do you want a ride to the cottage?"

"It would be great!"

In the first few minutes, an awkward silence came over the car, to break the mood, Y/N turned on the car's radio and turned up the volume when A-Ha started playing.

Axl glanced at her. "Do you listen to this shit?"

"They are Norwegian, we are crazy about them." She laughed, thinking about it. It was funny with her people, they had a habit of liking anything that was national.

He shook his head, but let a small smile take over his lips.

"I like your hair!" She said, staring at him.

"Thank you, I think!"

“No, seriously, I really like it. I think the color is beautiful. ”

"Thank you very much then."

He looked at her and his eyes met hers. A shiver went down his spine and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe for a moment, so he focused on the road again.

After a few minutes, he decided to start a conversation.

"What do you normally do here when you're not skiing?"

“I drink hot chocolate, read and go for a short walk in the city. They have some cool stores here. ” She shrugged.

He nodded in response.

After arriving at the cottage, the two agreed to go down to have hot chocolate together in half an hour.

Axl took a hot shower, letting his muscles relax with the warmth of the water. He contemplated shaving but changed his mind after thinking it over. His beard was slightly long, red hair adorned his face.

Down the stairs he saw her sitting on a couch, wearing a pair of black leggings and a red sweatshirt, her hair was tied up in a bun and she was using a pair of slipper boots.

"You Americans are always late." She noted when Axl sat down next to her.

"Sorry."

She gestured with her hand, as if to inform him that it was okay. "I already ordered the hot chocolate, Anna was supposed to bring it after you arrived."

He nodded in agreement.

"So, what do you work with?" He wanted to know more about her.

"I'm a lawyer. I deal with divorces. What about you?"

"I work with music."

"What kind of music?"

"Rock."

"Nice!"

Anna arrived with two large mugs, interrupting the conversation.

"Takk, Anna!" Y/N smiled sweetly at the woman.

"Thank you, Anna!"

"Thanks." He picked up his mug carefully, as he knew it would be hot.

"No problem." She smiled back at them both.

The two stayed there for over an hour talking, finding out more about each other.

Axl couldn't say why, but he felt comfortable around her, almost as if they knew each other for decades. He could tell that she felt the same way because after a few minutes she put her legs on his lap.

"You were right, her hot chocolate is delicious." Axl said after taking the second mug that night.

"I told you!" She smiled proudly.

Getting closer to him, she whispered in his ear. "I'm going up to my room now, if you want to stop by later, I'm in room 22." She rested her hand on his chest.

He looked into her eyes, they were both close enough to kiss, but there was a family with two children in the room, so he decided not to.

Nodding his head at her, Axl kept his gaze fixed on her back when she got up and went upstairs, leaving him alone.

The simple image of what he could do with her later made his member throb with anticipation. And he decided that after it was late he would knock on her door.

Returning to his room he realized that her room was two doors from his, on the same side of the corridor.

He tried to entertain himself at night, he went down to dinner and then tried to read a book he had brought, but he couldn't focus on reading, his imagination was running wild and all he could think about was her.

Glancing at the clock in his room, he saw that it was just after nine.

"Fuck it!" Getting up and locking his door as he left the room, he walked in quick steps to room 22, knocking three times on the door and waiting for her to open.

When she opened it, Axl's member pulsed again. She was wearing a black wool sweater three times the size of her, covering up to half of her thighs. Her hair was still tied up in a bun.

Before she could say anything, his lips crashed against hers, hugging her waist with one of his arms and pushing her slightly into the room, closing the door with his free hand.

She responded on the spot, her arms circling his neck while her tongue asked for permission to invade his mouth.

Allowing the intrusion, their tongues began to move as if in an aggressive ballet, fighting for dominance. She moved one of her hands to Axl's hair, lightly pulling the strands at the top of his neck, causing a low growl to leave his throat.

Her hands started to remove Axl's jacket, who broke the kiss for a second to remove his white shirt as well.

She admired the muscles in his abdomen, biting her bottom lip with desire.

Axl pulled her close by her hips, letting his hands find her butt cheeks and squeeze them tightly, making a small moan leave her lips.

He brought his right hand to her hair, removing the elastic that held her strands and letting her hair cover part of her face. Axl guided her to the bed, stopping when her legs hit the furniture slightly, creating a distance between them and removing her sweater, revealing the black lace lingerie she wore.

His member started to stiffen. Letting her fall on the soft mattress, Axl stayed on top of her, dropping his kisses to her neck, where he left light bites that would surely leave marks. She sighed like an angel when Axl lowered his kisses further, making a trail between her neck and the bar of her panties, taking off her bra in the process.

He propped her two legs up on the bed, kissing her right thigh, higher and higher, letting his beard run lightly over her skin and watching her sigh with the contact.

His cold fingers touched her skin, slowly pulling her panties down, making her shiver at the touch.

She leaned on her forearms, watching Axl closely.

Axl approached the center of her, licking her folds before spreading her legs further, granting him more access. His tongue started to make circular movements on her clit, at first they were slow and calm, but after a while, they started to get stronger and more accurate.

She grabbed the covers with her fingers, letting her head fall on the bed again allowing small moans to leave her lips.

"Axl" She whispered his name.

Seeing this as an incentive, Axl slowly penetrated one of his fingers into her, while his other hand came up and squeezed her breast firmly, causing a loud moan to come out of her throat.

After a few minutes, Axl inserted a second finger, curving them and reaching a different point inside her that made her moan louder.

"Right there!" She said between moans.

Axl started to feel her walls tightening, giving a sign that she was close, he applied more pressure to her clit, making faster movements with his tongue.

At that point she was already a mess, her left hand tightly gripped the cover under her, while her right hand was in Axl's hair, pulling his strands lightly and whimpering with pleasure.

He hit her point a few more times and was static when he saw her legs shaking slightly while a loud moan accompanied by a strong tug on his hair told him that she had reached her climax.

After receiving all the juices she had given him, Axl lifted his kisses, stopping at the level of her right breast, where he sucked with ease, lightly biting her nipple while watching the long, heavy breathes come out of her lips.

Going up a little further, he captured her lips in a hot, ravenous kiss. Her hands began to entertain with the buttons on his pants, telling him that she wanted him to get rid of them.

Breaking the kiss Axl removed his pants and underwear at the same time, freeing his already hard and completely erect member.

She licked her lips with desire, watching him as he stroked himself while walking towards her.

"Are you going to be a good girl and take everything?"

She nodded and he pushed her by the shoulders on the bed before pulling her closer to him by her legs.

He climbed on the bed and used his left hand to support himself, while his right hand guided his member to collect some of her juices. Axl moved his cock slowly over her clit, making her moan softly.

Slowly, he began to penetrate her, pausing for a moment when it came to an end, waiting for her to adjust to his size. The pressure created by his dick against her tight walls made them both moan in unison before they shared a lush kiss.

Moving slowly, he started to get in and out of her. His eyes locked with hers as the room seemed to get ten degrees warmer. Her hands tightened on his biceps tightly as he leaned down to kiss her again.

“Fuck, you look so hot taking my cock inside of you.” He groaned.

After a few minutes, Axl's thrusts became stronger and faster and Y/N's moans got louder and louder. She murmured things in her native language that Axl was unable to understand as her nails scratched the skin on his back, making him grunt and bite her neck hard.

"I think…. I’m going to…." She managed to utter between moans.

"I know baby, cum for me!" Axl ordered in her ear, making her even more excited than before.

She let out a loud moan, before shouting his name, reaching her climax. Her eyes rolled and her mouth was open, her mind was blank and an orgasm twice as strong as the first took over her body.

The image was a work of art in Axl's eyes. When she said his name again, this time lower, almost like a plea, he could no longer contain himself, reaching his own climax and pouring his liquids into her while letting out a loud grunt.

He collapsed on top of her and she hugged his waist with her legs while removing some strands of his hair from his face.

The two let the last moans leave their bodies, low and disconnected, due to sensitivity.

Axl stood up and slowly withdrew his member from inside her, watching their mixed liquids leave her body. His member shook with pleasure, but he could tell that she was too tired for another round.

After cleaning her, the two fell asleep in bed, Axl wrapped Y/N in his arms and admired her in the light of the fireplace when she slept. He didn't want to leave tomorrow, he wanted to have more time with her.

----

The next morning Axl woke up and the bed was empty. Sitting up quickly, he realized that she was sitting by the window, smoking a cigarette.

"I thought you were gone." He said as he approached, wearing nothing but his underwear.

She was wearing the same sweater as last night.

"Your smell is on my sweater." She said casually.

"Good to know!" He leaned down to kiss her lips again.

She didn't want to kiss him, she knew she was already too involved. He was from another country and the two would probably never see each other again. But there was something about him that made it impossible for her to resist.

One of her hands touched his face lightly, caressing him.

"Last night was incredible!" He sat across from her, lighting a cigarette for himself.

She nodded slowly while looking through the window.

"What's it? Did I do something?"

"No, it's just ... I'm leaving today." She didn't look at him.

"Yeah, me too!"

She looked at him and felt her eyes well up with tears, but she was not going to allow herself to cry. She had just met him, it was ridiculous to feel that way.

"Do you think we could exchange our numbers?"

“I don't think it's a good idea! You live on the other side of the world, it’s not good to feed that kind of thing. ”

He felt a tightening in his heart, but he understood what she meant.

"Yeah, you must be right."

He looked at the bedroom’s watch and realized it was close to ten. The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, its timid rays illuminating the room.

"I have to get to Bergen by one."

"You should go then, or you'll be late!"

"Yeah, I should."

They looked at each other for almost a minute. Their looks saying what their mouths lacked courage.

Axl leaned over and kissed her one last time, his hands pulling her closer until she was on his lap, while her hands played with his hair.

They tried to keep the kiss as long as they could, knowing that when they separated, Axl would have to leave. But the oxygen came to an end and they had to separate.

Both stood looking at each other for several seconds, trying to record every detail of the other's face in their memories.

She got up and allowed him to do the same.

Axl put on his clothes and started walking towards the door, stopping before opening it. "Am I going to see you before I leave?"

"I think not."

He nodded and left, heading for his room.

She sighed, pulling the sweater close to her nose and taking in his scent.

----

Later that morning, Y/N saw Axl leaving the cottage and storing his suitcase in a black car.

A sense of sadness took over the body, but she couldn't say why. It was impossible for her to love him, wasn't it? After all, they had only known each other for a day.

Axl turned towards her window and saw her sitting in the same place as before. He waved at her and waited for her to return the gesture before he got in the car and left.

When he left the place he couldn't help feeling that he had left something very important behind. He knew what it was. It was her. But she was right, it would be fruitless to feed something like that.

Watching the car leave, Y/N touched the window and waited until the car was out of sight.

A single tear fell from her eyes. "Hvis det er ham, vil skjebnen få oss til å møtes igjen."

"If it's him, fate will make us meet again."

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