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warping-realities · 17 days ago

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Through the Looking Glass

Jason woke up to the annoying sound of his alarm clock, the same one he'd been struggling to not ignore for weeks. He stretched in bed, feeling like a ton of bricks, and stared at the ceiling, which felt lower than ever. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, but he wasn’t feeling it. Another day at his digital marketing job, where he spent his time filling out spreadsheets and organizing data. The office was lively, with colorful desks and people yapping about the latest trends, but Jason felt like a spectator in a movie he didn’t wanna watch.

After a quick shower, he threw on a shirt that was getting a bit tight around his gut and some pants that miraculously still fit. He checked himself out in the mirror, trying to style his hair to hide his thinning spots. The result was a messy combo that made him sigh. "This ain’t gonna hold up," he thought as he grabbed his thermos full of coffee and headed out.

On the way to work, he couldn’t shake thoughts of his latest attempts to find someone special. Unanswered messages on Grindr, awkward dates that ended in cringey silence, and the feeling that his love life was stuck in neutral. He forced himself to focus on the traffic, but his mind wandered. "Why can’t I change this?" he wondered.

When he got to the office, he was met with the usual hustle and bustle. His coworkers were chatting about marketing strategies and new campaigns, but Jason just settled at his desk, where a mountain of unread emails awaited him. He dove into graphs and reports, chugging coffee after coffee to fight off the fatigue. He knew caffeine was just a quick fix, and soon he’d feel jittery, his hands shaking a bit as he typed.

The hours dragged on, and the chatter around him blended into a dull hum. He glanced out the window, where the sun was shining bright, but he felt like he was trapped in a dark box. Lunchtime rolled around, and his coworkers gathered for a lively meal, laughing and sharing stories. Jason hesitated but opted to stay at his lonely table, where a sad tuna sandwich was waiting for him. He ate in silence, watching the office's energy, feeling like an outsider in a world that wasn’t his.

Afternoon came, and he was back to work, the monotony settling in again. The same tasks kept repeating, and he wondered if he’d ever break this cycle. If only he could find some purpose, something to make him feel alive again. But for now, all he could do was survive, day after day, as the clock ticked away, dragging on forever.

At the end of the shift, he waved goodbye to everyone with a fake smile and started walking the few blocks to where he parked his car that morning. But the universe and his body had other plans. “Damn bladder that can’t hold anything,” Jason grumbled as he hurriedly searched for somewhere to take a leak. Then, out of nowhere, he found himself in front of a rundown gym. He had passed by that place a million times on his way to work but never even glanced at it. Gym life was definitely not his thing. When he stepped inside, it was oddly quiet. No background music, no clients—just a super buff guy sitting at the reception, flashing a smile that Jason was pretty sure had more white teeth than anyone could have, only for it to vanish when he urgently asked to use the bathroom.

As he half-ran, awkwardly shuffling to avoid wetting his pants, he started thinking that the gym wasn’t in the best shape; the equipment looked neglected, and the lighting was terrible. This, combined with the absence of clients, explained the receptionist's gloomy vibe.

Finally reaching the bathroom, he dashed in and, without hesitation, relieved his bursting bladder. Feeling a huge sense of relief as he finished, he shook his modest member and turned around, only to be met with a huge mirror. Had that been there when he got in? Obviously, yes, giant mirrors don’t just pop up outta nowhere. Probably, in his frantic rush to the urinal, he had overlooked what was right in front of him.

But that mirror was totally outta place. It had a golden frame with intricate designs on the edges and some kind of writing he couldn’t make out. As he took a closer look, he ended up getting the biggest scare of his life.“WTF!” he screamed, staring at a complete stranger instead of himself. Reflected in the glass was the most ripped dude he’d ever seen, even bigger than the guy at the reception. The bodybuilder was staring back at him, dressed only in tight white shorts that left little to the imagination. Muscles bulging, covered in tanned, sweaty skin, like he’d just crushed a killer workout. A completely bald head, but with a thick beard covering his chiseled jaw. Jason quickly looked down, realizing he was still himself before glancing back at the mirror. “Like what ya see, brother?” the bodybuilder said in a deep voice. “What the fuck?” Jason repeated. “This can’t be real.”

The bodybuilder in the mirror stepped closer, his impressive physique clearly defined in those tight shorts. “Because I’m really glad to see you!” the dude teased, flexing his powerful muscles, licking his lips like Jason was the tastiest thing he’d ever seen. Seeing that, Jason tried to bolt, but his feet wouldn’t budge. To make things worse, his own body betrayed him, and he found himself mimicking the bodybuilder’s every move, as if the reflection was him, while a satisfied grin spread across the other man’s face. Tremendously freaked out, Jason locked eyes with the bodybuilder, and it felt like something was holding him there. Meanwhile, the bodybuilder reached out, his finger seeming to touch the mirror from the inside, and slowly, Jason’s arm imitated the motion. He wanted to scream and ask for help, but no words came out; it felt like his mouth was glued shut. With wide eyes, he saw his finger inching closer to the mirror, as if in slow-mo, even though everything was happening super fast. He see the other guy’s smile grow and felt the cold surface of the mirror for a split second, and then… Jason was standing in the middle of a massive room that looked like every gym imaginable, surrounded by workout equipment and free weights, further away a tatami with martial arts gear and a punching bag. No longer was there a mirror, but a sort of window in the air, and staring back at him from the other side, with a cheeky grin, was… himself!

“Thanks, bro,” said the other him. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

As Jason watched, stunned, his reflection in the mirror started to transform before his eyes. His dark hair quickly receded, revealing a tanned, bald head. His skin took on a golden hue, like he’d been baking in the sun for hours, anime a bushy beard covered his face.

His muscles began to expand impressively, growing and defining with each passing second. His shoulders broadened, his back turned wide and muscular. His arms, once skinny, gained volume and shape, with veins popping under the skin.

His shirt and pants seemed to struggle against this muscular growth, the seams straining and threatening to rip at any moment. Suddenly, the clothes tore apart, revealing a sculpted physique, with a defined chest and abs that looked like they were carved from ice.

Then the clothes began to reform in a way that was nothing like the previous one. A pair of tight white shorts replaced his old pants, showcasing thick, powerful thighs while a tank top barely contained the prominent muscles of his back and shoulders. His feet also grew considerably, now wearing gigantic size 15 sneakers. The man in the mirror looked like a true pro athlete, a bodybuilder at his peak, with an intimidating and commanding presence. As Jason watched, mouth agape, the man flexed his arms, showing off gigantic biceps and veins bulging all over his bronzed skin. A mischievous smile formed on his lips, and he winked at the real Jason, trapped on the other side of the mirror.

Suddenly, the muscular man turned and stepped out of Jason's line of sight, and at that exact moment, the strange window in the air dissolved like mist. Jason tried to scream, to call for someone, but his voice seemed to vanish, leaving him powerless before that surreal situation.

Slowly, the reality of what he had just witnessed began to sink in. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. How was this possible? Where was he? And who was this dude who now took his place?

Desperate, Jason lost his cool. He screamed, cried, begged for help, but nothing seemed to work. He was trapped, a prisoner of his own reflection.

“Hey, no point in yelling,” a young dude with tan skin and solid muscles, more agile than flashy, approached him with a calm voice. “You’re stuck here until the window opens again.”

“Who are you? What’s going on? Where am I?” He turned to the guy, desperate for answers. “Why is this happening to me?”

The guy looked at him with a serious expression as he spoke. “I don’t know much more than you, to be real. When I got here, it was the same deal. The dude who’s now in your body thought this had been going on forever. He didn’t know how, but it seemed to be some kind of cycle.”

“This is nuts!” Jason exclaimed. “It can’t be real. How can someone just swap places with another person? This makes no sense!”

“I get that it’s crazy,” the guy said with a slight understanding smile. “But it’s reality. You gotta accept that.” Jason felt a chill in his gut, his emotions conflicting between doubt and disbelief.

Looking for a spot to sit and process everything, Jason walked over to a bench press.

“Watch out!”

“What now?” he asked, startled.

“You gotta be careful with what you pick here,” the guy warned. “What you decide to do is gonna shape who you’ll be when the window opens again. Mathew, the physics teacher who was here before, bulked up to that huge bodybuilder because he chose to hit the weights. Little by little, he turned into Ibrahim, the Arab bodybuilder who took your spot.”

“What if I don’t wanna be a bodybuilder? What if I wanna go back to my normal life?”

“It’s complicated,” the young guy replied, shaking his head. “You can choose to do nothing and wait. But trust me, you’re going to end giving in. Time here isn’t like in our world. You won’t need to sleep or eat or even take a piss; it’ll be a long stretch of… nothing. And believe me, standing still isn’t the best option.”

Jason looked at the bench press and then at the weights around him. He was in a bind. “And what if I never give up? What happens if I don’t touch anything and just hang tight?”

“You’ll be stuck here until another window opens,” the guy explained. “And that window could take a hot minute to show up. People who end up in this dimension usually transform into something new because it’s easier than waiting.”

Jason’s mind was racing. “And you? Who were you before all this?”

“I was a big-time ballet dancer,” the guy said, with a nostalgic look. I was about to make my last presentation before retiring. Then I made the mistake of using the bathroom at a hotel pool. And suddenly, I was here, and the hotel had a brand-new lifeguard. I didn’t believe what Mathew told me; I barely registered it, and when I sat on the tatami to cry, boom, I started to change. I couldn’t believe what was happening. The physical transformation was terrifying… But eventually, I accepted it.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Bruno.”

“And before?” Jason asked, curious.

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” the guy replied, looking at the tatami. “You’ll find that what was before ends up losing its significance.”

“I’m not letting this happen!”

“You can try. I get that there’s something really important for you out there: family, friends… so good luck.” Bruno replied, heading toward the tatami where he began practicing skilled movements.

As Jason watched Bruno expertly moving on the tatami, he couldn’t help but feel like a shadow of who he could be. Bruno was the embodiment of confidence and strength; his movements were fluid and full of purpose, super different from his own days filled with inertia and monotony. The memory of his miserable life crept into his mind like thick fog that wouldn’t let him see clearly.

He remembered how many times he’d sat in front of the computer, battling feelings of insignificance. The empty interactions with coworkers who didn’t care, the pointless conversations that led nowhere. The weight of boredom followed him like a shadow. He no longer felt part of the world; he just existed, day after day, like a shadow of himself.

“What if I just let myself go?” That idea began to ring in his head. Ibrahim’s life, with its sculpted body and undeniable power, seemed tempting, or even Bruno’s agile physique. The transformation could be a way to escape the mediocrity that trapped him. It was seductive to think he could be a new man, strong and admired. How many times had he dreamed of being someone different, someone who inspired respect?

But as that idea formed, a spark of resistance began to glow inside him. It was a feeling he never knew he had, a determination that seemed to rise from the depths of his soul. “No! I can’t let some supernatural force decide who I am!” He refused to let himself be changed, to become a mere reflection of someone he wasn’t.

With that decision in mind, he took a deep breath, focusing on his reality. The life he had, though miserable, was still his. He loved his friends, even if he didn’t see them often. He had dreams and aspirations, even if they were buried beneath the routine. He didn’t want to give up being Jason, the guy he’d always been, no matter how hard it meant fighting against the current.

Time passed, and Jason started to explore the space around him. He moved cautiously, avoiding touching any equipment, as if each machine were a hidden trap. The room was massive, with an entirely empty center, and along the edges were weight machines, Bruno’s tatami, a boxing ring, even a basketball hoop and a soccer goal. In the corners of the room were doors. As he passed one, he found himself in a corridor connected to various others. The corridors led to different rooms dedicated to various physical activities: a more complete martial arts room, a yoga area with perfectly lined mats, a huge swimming pool, and even a dance room with mirrors from floor to ceiling.

He took in every detail, soaking in the grandeur of the space. Who or what had built all this? After wandering aimlessly through what could have been years or just a few minutes, he returned to the central room where Bruno was now meditating on the tatami.

Bruno opened his eyes slowly and looked at Jason with a curious expression, as if he had been waiting for an answer. “So, have you made your decision?” he asked, his voice calm and firm.

Jason felt a wave of determination warm his heart. He wasn’t willing to transform into someone else, to give up his identity. “Yeah,” he replied, with a resolute tone. “I’ve decided that I wanna keep being who I am. I won’t let myself be dragged away.”

Bruno frowned, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern. “You know this might have consequences, right? Staying here without changing might not be the best choice.”

“For me, it’s the only choice,” Jason insisted. “I’ve got friends, a life, even if it ain’t perfect. I’d rather fight for that than lose myself in a new identity that isn’t mine.”

As the days passed—or what seemed like days in that timeless place—Jason’s routine became clearer. He explored the space, getting familiar with the equipment but always steering clear of anything that might lead him to a transformation while trying to find a way out. Bruno, on the other hand, seemed more anxious by the minute. With each moment, his expression grew heavier with frustration.

“Jason, you need to understand that your resistance is holding me back,” Bruno said, his tone getting more impatient. “I can’t keep doing this. If you don’t move forward, I can’t either. You’re keeping us both trapped in an endless void.”

Jason, for his part, had begun to suspect that maybe Bruno was more involved in the situation than he appeared. “Why do you insist so much? Why can’t you accept that I don’t want to be someone else? You yourself said that Mathew and Ibrahim were totally different people.”

“Because I can’t take it anymore, Jason! I was someone before all this, just like you. And thinking about it gnaws at me; I’m stuck halfway and I just need to move on. Transformation is part of who we are now. I’m not trying to force you to change, but your refusal to move forward is holding me back too,” Bruno explained, the frustration in his voice becoming palpable.

Bruno's words began to echo in Jason's mind. It was true that there was something deeper in Bruno's quest. He wasn’t just trying to convince him to transform; there was a hidden desperation, a need for freedom that shone through in his eyes. But Jason couldn’t let himself be swayed. He needed to stay true to himself.

“Look, I understand that you might be feeling trapped, but I can’t be the answer to your problems. You can’t force me to change,” Jason replied, trying to remain calm.

“Of course I can! Do you think you can handle it if I come at you? Just throw you on the mat and it’ll all be over!”

“I knew it! You’re behind all this!”

“Don’t be an idiot; if I were behind all this, I would have already done what I just told you!”

“Maybe you can’t; you said it yourself, I’m the one who needs to choose.”

“You’re being stupid again; I could have simply not warned you and let things happen. And you have no idea how much I regret intervening.”

“Then do it, come on! Throw me on that damn mat and end this!” Jason shouted.

Bruno fell silent, his gaze lost in the void as Jason's words echoed in the room. He seemed tempted to act, his hands clenching into fists. However, hesitation was written all over his face. “I… I can’t do that,” he finally said, his voice low. “I don’t have the courage to interfere in someone else’s life like that.”

“Then you’re a hypocrite!” Jason shot back, frustration overflowing. “You’re here desperate to get out, but for that, you’re going to have to take someone else’s place, right?”

Bruno shook his head, the expression of conflict clear on his face. “I know that’s true, but… but if I transform, if I really become someone else, I won’t be me anymore, those doubts won’t exist. I saw that with Ibrahim. When the time comes, I won’t care about anything… but right now I can’t.”

“Hypocrite! You don’t really care about not interfering in someone else’s life; you only care about how it’s going to make you feel!” Jason retorted, feeling the weight of indignation.

Bruno looked down at the floor, the internal struggle evident. Jason, feeling he had said what he needed, turned and left the central room, walking through the parallel corridors branching out in unknown directions. The environment was a maze that seemed to mock his solitude. He didn’t know how long he wandered in that “no-time” until the lack of company began to weigh on him. He realized he couldn’t continue like that. He needed companionship, connection, even if it meant returning to Bruno. So with hesitant steps, he made his way back to the central room, where Bruno was still.

As he entered, he saw Bruno again in a meditative position. When he approached, the young man opened and lifted his eyes, and with a determined expression, said, “Jason, I reflected on what you said. And you’re right. Maybe it’s too late for me to go back to who I was. But you… you’re still you. You have the right to keep being who you are.”

Bruno's words brought an unexpected relief to Jason. He saw the sincerity in the man’s eyes, and for the first time, he felt a bridge being built between them.

Jason and Bruno sat on the floor in the emptiness of the central room, both in silence for a moment, allowing the weight of their previous conversations to dissipate. The tension that had existed between them now seemed to give way to mutual understanding. Jason felt that despite their differences, they shared something in common: the struggle to find a way in a world that had changed without warning.

“Let’s explore this together,” Jason suggested, his voice carrying a new determination. “If we’re stuck here, maybe we can discover an exit or something that helps us better understand this place.”

Bruno nodded, a shy smile appearing on his face. “Yeah, I’d love that. I believe that if we’re together, we can handle this situation better.”

The two stood up and began to walk. The environment was vast, with corridors branching out in various directions. They passed by rooms dedicated to every kind of physical activity imaginable, many of which neither of them had any idea about. Jason just looked at the doors, knowing what awaited him if he dared to enter. Bruno already knew his path but was able to explore better. As they walked through the endless possibilities of sports and physical activities that the human mind had invented, Bruno began to open up.

“Sometimes, I feel like my mind is a mess,” he commented as they walked. “My memories are all jumbled. I remember being a dancer, feeling the music flow through my veins and performing on stages. But now… now it’s like everything is mixed with fighting moves, martial arts, and I can’t distinguish between the two.”

Jason looked at Bruno with empathy. He tried to imagine the confusion the other man faced, the internal struggle between who he was and who he was becoming. “That must be tough to deal with,” Jason said.

Bruno smiled, but sadness still lingered in his eyes. “Yeah, it’s complicated. I feel like, in some way, I’m losing the essence of what made me happy. Dance… it was everything to me. Now, I don’t know if I’m still… him.”

Just at that moment, while they were walking, Jason spotted a door leading to a dance room. The soft sound of classical music leaked from inside, like an invitation. A sudden impulse took over him, and he stopped in front of the entrance. “Hey, how about we check it out?” he suggested, hope shining in his eyes. “Maybe you can dance again.”

Bruno hesitated, looking at the door and then back at Jason. “Dance? I don’t know if I can… I’m not her anymore.”

“But what if you try? Maybe it’ll help. It could be a way to reclaim that part of you, who knows, maybe even reverse the process,” Jason insisted, his enthusiasm growing.

Bruno took a deep breath and finally agreed. “Alright, let’s give it a shot.”

As Jason waited at the door, Bruno stepped into the room, and the music enveloped him immediately. The space was spacious, with mirrors on the walls and a polished floor reflecting the soft light. Jason, even from a distance, felt the vibrant energy of the place, a sense of possibility washing over him. Bruno, on the other hand, seemed hesitant. He moved to the center of the hall and, with a nervous gesture, began to try reproducing some of the steps he remembered.

However, the dance that once flowed with grace and beauty now seemed awkward. Bruno’s movements were stiff, the steps didn’t fit, and the music seemed to drift away from him. He attempted to execute a pirouette, but his legs didn’t respond as before, and he stumbled, nearly falling.

“Bruno!” Jason exclaimed, worried, but Bruno quickly composed himself, a forced smile on his face. “It’s fine, just a little mistake.” Then he broke down in tears. It was terrifying to see a man that big suddenly seem so fragile. “I want to go back to being who I was, but I don’t know how.” Bruno admitted, his voice carrying an emotional weight.

Jason wanted to get closer to Bruno, but he couldn’t, so he just spoke, trying to comfort his friend. “Remember you’re not alone. I believe in you; you can do it.”

Bruno took a deep breath, his determination renewed. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the music to envelop him completely. Then, with a fluid motion, he began to dance. Unlike his previous hesitance, there was now a lightness in his steps, a rhythm that seemed to flow from his essence. Each movement began to fit harmoniously, as if the music were guiding him.

Jason watched, amazed. It was as if a new energy had taken over Bruno; he was dancing not just with his body, but with his soul. The dance was a reflection of who he truly was, and he was finally breaking free from the chains that bound him. The steps became bolder, the turns wider, and the expression on his face shifted from insecurity to pure joy.

When the music finally came to an end, Bruno stopped, breathless but with a radiant smile on his face. He turned to Jason, who was cheering enthusiastically. "Did you see that? I did it!” Bruno exclaimed, joy written all over his face as he approached Jason.

“It was amazing! You were incredible!” Jason replied, still in awe. He felt a wave of pride for Bruno, as if his victory was also his own. In an impulse, the two moved closer and hugged, the connection between them stronger than ever.

For a brief moment, the world around them disappeared. Jason felt the warmth of Bruno’s body, the strength and vulnerability coexisting in that embrace. The smell of the other man filled his nostrils, the heat of that muscular body. Their hearts beat in unison, and for a moment, their faces drew close, the idea of a kiss lingering in the air. But as if a spell had been broken, they both pulled away at the same time, a slight blush on their faces.

“Sorry, I… didn’t mean to…” Bruno started to say, but Jason interrupted.

“Don’t worry, it was a spontaneous moment. We’re just… going through a lot,” Jason replied, trying to dissipate the tension that had sprung up between them.

“Yeah, exactly,” Bruno agreed, a nervous smile still on his face. “Shall we get back to the search for the exit?”

“Absolutely!” Jason replied, and together they left the dance room, now revitalized by the experience.

However, as they walked through the corridors, something unexpected happened. The paths that had once seemed endless abruptly led them back to the central room, where Jason and Bruno stopped in shock at a scene that seemed surreal, for in the center of the space was a brand-new smartphone, glowing under the soft light of the environment.

“Is that a smartphone? What the hell is that doing here?” Bruno asked, intrigued. They approached cautiously, exchanging curious glances. The device began to vibrate, as if it were waiting for them.

“Do you think… it could be a way to communicate?” Jason suggested, hope in his voice. “Maybe we can use it to learn more about this place or even find an exit.”

“There’s only one way to find out, and it’s probably better if it’s me for safety’s sake,” Bruno said, reaching out and grabbing the smartphone. The device was light and sleek, and as soon as he unlocked it, the screen lit up just as something inside Bruno faded while a new transformation overtook him.

Jason watched, stunned by what unfolded before his eyes. Bruno, his friend and ally in that strange world, was changing radically.

The muscles of the man began to harden, and although they didn’t grow much in size, they became hard and powerful. His body structure modified, gaining impressive functionality, far beyond a mere display of physical beauty. His tanned skin seemed to stretch over the sculpted forms, revealing the latent strength and capacity.

As the transformation progressed, Bruno's face also underwent changes. The innocence and vulnerability that had once graced his features were replaced by a hard and arrogant expression. The nose, likely broken several times during intense fights, had a crooked appearance, and his ears took on the characteristic cauliflower shape typical of martial arts athletes, although they were covered by a wave of curly hair.

But the most frightening change was in his eyes. Once filled with doubt and hope, they now became cold and calculating, as if Bruno’s soul had drained away, leaving only an empty shell. A mocking smile formed at the corner of his lips, completing the transformation.

Jason watched everything, paralyzed by fear and disbelief. He couldn’t believe what was happening, his mind struggling to process the radical change in his friend. When Bruno's altered face turned in his direction, Jason felt an urge to flee, but he knew it would be futile. Before he could move, Bruno easily captured him, his strength now far superior.

"You had the chance to choose for yourself," Bruno said, his voice mocking and strangely lively. "But now I’m the one who chooses."

Jason felt a shiver run down his spine. Bruno's words echoed like a sentence, leaving him with no way out. He saw the determination in the eyes of the man who had once been his friend and knew that nothing he did could change what was to come.

Bruno held Jason with immense strength as he dragged him along. Fear consumed Jason's body as Bruno moved through the corridors, each step echoing like a warning of what was to come. The surroundings seemed distorted, the walls closing in as he was pulled further away

Finally, they reached the door of the dance room, and Bruno stopped. Jason, seizing the brief moment, made a desperate attempt to break free, but Bruno reacted quickly. With an agile and precise movement, Jason was thrown into the room.

He fell heavily to the floor, confusion and fear taking over his body. He looked around, trying to find an exit, but the door through which he entered was blocked by the figure of the other man, leaving him trapped in that space.

Then, something began to happen. He felt a strange sensation coursing through his body, an energy that seemed to concentrate in every cell. His features began to change, the expression lines softening as the clock turned back and the weight of the years melted away, with his hair, once prematurely gray, regaining a much darker hue, and advancing to cover the receding hairline.

A mustache and goatee appeared on his face, giving the younger face a manly look. Jason observed, astonished, as his belly shrank and body hair disappeared, leaving his skin with a tone as dark as Bruno’s.

His muscles began to define, increasing in size and acquiring a sculpted appearance. His arms becoming toned and muscular, while his legs strengthened, accustomed to dance movements, though certainly not ballet.

When the transformation reached his eyes, they changed color, taking on a deep brown hue. And with that final change, a new identity emerged in his mind: Pedro.

He stood up, feeling light and agile, as if he had truly been reborn. Looking at his hands, now stronger and calloused, Pedro felt a wave of confidence wash over him.

At that moment, Bruno entered the room, his face contorted in an expression of triumph. “So, it seems someone finally has to accept their new self, huh? He said, with a playful smile.

Pedro glared at Bruno, his eyes shining with fierce determination. "I’m not gonna accept this! You can't force me to be something I'm not!"

Bruno let out a dry laugh. "Oh, but it ain't me doing that. You're stuck here, just like I was. And now, you're gonna become exactly what you were meant to be. In fact, you’re already starting to, aren’t you? Don’t even try to deny it; I can see it."

Without a second thought, Pedro charged at Bruno, fists clenched and adrenaline pumping through his veins. But Bruno, with his quick reflexes, was faster. He grabbed Pedro's arms, twisting them hard, pulling him in closer.

"You really think you can take me on?" Bruno said playfully, like this was the most fun he’d ever had.

Pedro struggled against the iron grip, his breath coming in ragged gasps. But as their bodies drew nearer, something shifted. The tension between them morphed into a palpable attraction, an energy that seemed to sink its claws into both of them.

Suddenly, Bruno yanked Pedro close, their lips crashing together in a fierce, desperate kiss. Pedro, initially hesitant, melted into the touch, their bodies intertwining in a heated embrace.

Bruno’s hands explored Pedro’s body, feeling every curve, every defined muscle. Pedro, in turn, reciprocated the touches, his own hands wandering beneath Bruno’s clothes, eager for more contact.

The kiss deepened, their tongues dancing in a sensual rhythm. The world around them seemed to disappear, and all that mattered was that moment, that touch.

Slowly, Bruno laid Pedro down on the floor, their bodies moving in sync, as if they were made for each other. The clothes were stripped away with urgency, revealing bronzed skin and sculpted muscles.

Pedro moaned softly, his fingers gripping Bruno’s back as he penetrated him with a desperate urgency. Their movements became increasingly frantic, their bodies colliding in an erotic dance.

Waves of pleasure enveloped them, their moans echoing in the dance room. They lost themselves in each other, forgetting everything except the overwhelming connection that bound them.

When they finally reached their peak, Pedro and Bruno collapsed into each other’s arms, their breaths heavy. In that moment, everything seemed to resolve, as if that encounter had been destined to happen from the beginning.

After that intense experience, the two returned to the central room, laughing and sharing kisses and caresses, bound to each other like a firefly drawn to a flame. But reality came knocking at the door again, for at the exact moment they entered the room, a window opened in the air before them, and on the other side stood an unsuspecting young man.

Bruno looked at Pedro with a soft smile, his eyes shining with a mix of desire and affection. He leaned in, capturing the other man's lips in a fiery, passionate kiss, his hand caressing Pedro's face with a tenderness that made his earlier aggressive behavior seem impossible.

When they finally pulled apart, Bruno held Pedro's hands between his, looking at him with seriousness. "No matter where you go, no matter who you become, you need to promise me that you'll come find me."

Pedro nodded, his gaze resolute. "I promise, Bruno. I’ll find you, no matter what happens." He pulled the other man in for one last kiss, feeling the urgency and passion radiating from both of them.

Then, Bruno stepped back, gazing at the window in the air that opened before them. His eyes sparkled with renewed confidence, a mysterious smile on his lips. Slowly, he approached the opening, extending his hand toward the young man waiting on the other side.

The moment his fingers brushed the surface of the window, a wave of energy swept through the space, and Bruno's figure dissolved, replaced by that of a boy with a classic nerd look. He wore thin-rimmed glasses, had messy dark hair, and confusion and fear etched on his face.

"Hey," Pedro said, preparing to explain everything to the man.

....

Pedro stood before the window in the air, his heart racing as he looked at the man who had materialized on the other side. He knew he was about to leave that strange place and return to the real world, even though his previous life no longer existed. In reality, that was a good thing because the memories of his new life were the ones he considered true. In front of him stood a man in his early thirties, very skinny, with bleached hair and makeup on his face, a makeup kit abandoned on a marble sink nearby.

Pedro understood that acting would completely change that man's life, but his reservations about it had faded along with most of Jason's memories. He now embraced and longed for that moment. So, he confidently moved toward the window in the air. As he glanced to the side, he saw a young, tanned man with bright blonde hair, exuding the vibe of a professional surfer, watching him with a wide smile. The man radiated confidence, joy, and a sense of relaxation and freedom. Pedro still found it hard to believe that somewhere in the complex there was a wave pool. But the living proof was right there beside him.

"See you later, Jake. I hope our waves cross again," Pedro said, his heart pounding with excitement.

"See you later, Pedro! Go make it worth it!" Jake replied, waving energetically.

With one last look at the surfer, Pedro turned and took the final step toward the window, extending his hand in front of him as the startled makeup artist on the other side did the same. As soon as their fingers touched the air on the other side, he felt a wave of energy enveloping him, pulling him toward his destiny.

Pedro found himself in an unfamiliar place; it was obviously a bathroom, but where? It was clearly much richer than the gym where Jason had entered at an indefinite time in the past, as the marble countertop at the sink matched the marble on the floor, along with the golden details on the faucets and doorknobs. The scent of lemongrass filled the air around Pedro. Gathering courage, he lifted his eyes to confront what he feared most: the bathroom mirror. Just the thought of being sent back and losing the identity he considered true made him tremble. However, when he faced the mirror, he saw only his own reflection—defined muscles, tanned skin, a youthful and handsome face adorned with a mustache and goatee that gave him a roguish yet virile appearance. Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped out of the bathroom, ready to face what reality had to offer.

As Pedro exited the bathroom, he felt a rush of adrenaline as he adapted to his new reality. He knew he was an up-and-coming pop singer, but things seemed much better than he had imagined. The moment he crossed the door, the shine and luxury of the environment surprised him. He was in an extravagant hotel, with dazzling chandeliers and opulent decor, where natural light filtered through large windows, illuminating the space with a golden glow.

However, there was no time for admiration. Before he could take another step, a young woman with long, wavy hair and a radiant smile approached him. "Pedro! So glad you're here! We’ve all been waiting for you!" she said, pulling him along with a friendly and excited demeanor.

"Waiting for me?" Pedro asked, confused, but soon realized it must be some sort of work. It was still hard for him to believe he was topping the charts and dominating TikTok. “Sorry for the delay!"

"No problem! I'm Ana, your assistant for the day. I’m a huge fan of your work!" the woman exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "You’re simply amazing!"

"Oh, if it’s not too much to ask," Ana said, hesitating slightly, "I’d love to film a dance with you for TikTok. That would be incredible!"

"You know, dancing is really part of my job, and I usually don't mix things... But since I liked you, we can do that later, okay?" he said, trying to keep a friendly tone.

"That would be perfect!" Ana replied, her excitement evident. "Let’s go! The crew is already in the photo area."

They walked through the hotel’s luxurious corridors, giving Pedro time to assimilate that the memories he had acquired in that non-place were indeed real, making him feel comfortable in this new role, and his confidence grew with each step. The atmosphere was filled with creative energy, with production teams adjusting lights and cameras, and he couldn’t help but feel excited.

When they finally arrived at the photo location, Pedro came to a halt, his heart nearly stopping. Before him was Bruno, being photographed at that very moment. The shock was immediate. He couldn’t believe how quickly their paths had crossed! Bruno was there, so close.

He was radiant, his muscular body perfectly posed under the camera flashes. Bruno's expression was one of pure confidence, as if he were at the peak of his game. He turned amidst the flashes, his eyes passing over Pedro, a hint of a tremor on his face, and… nothing.

Pedro felt his heart race as he stared at Bruno, but the expression on the other man’s face was not one of recognition. Bruno looked at him neutrally, as if facing a stranger rather than someone with whom he had shared such intense moments.

The disappointment hit him like a blow, but Pedro knew that entering this new body and life could mean this possibility. He forced himself to keep his composure, taking a deep breath as Ana, his assistant, approached.

"Before we start with the photos, we need to answer a few questions for the article that will accompany the shoot," Ana said with a friendly smile.

Pedro forced a smile and nodded, trying not to betray his frustration. As the crew got organized, a reporter approached him, notepad in hand. Old school, Pedro thought.

"So, to start, do you two know each other?" the reporter asked casually.

Bruno didn’t hesitate. "Yes, of course." Pedro’s heart raced as he cast a hopeful glance at the other man. "All Brazilians know each other, right? Just like all Asians and all Black people." He said with a sarcastic smile that made Pedro’s hopes crumble.

Pedro bit his lip, feeling a wave of disappointment. "Yeah… that's true. Brazil is huge, and also, I’ve lived in the United States since I was five," he replied, trying to keep his tone light.

Bruno continued, indifferent. "Exactly. My last name is Leone, but I’m not related to Gabriel Leone, who did Ferrari and Senna. Anyway, I’ve definitely heard of Pedro Cruz, the new TikTok king."

Pedro forced a laugh, but the sound came out dry and lifeless. What should have been a reunion full of possibilities had now turned into a moment of solitude. Bruno, who had been his friend and ally, and for brief moments the source of the greatest pleasure he had experienced in both his lives, was now a distant figure, an icon on a pedestal he couldn’t reach even though he was right beside him, so close he could feel the heat radiating from his body and the leather and musk scent he exuded.

Pedro took a deep breath, trying to regain control of the situation. He looked at the reporter, a light smile on his face as he said, “Being called the ‘King of TikTok’ is certainly an incredible recognition, but it’s not the most important thing to me. What really drives me is music and dance. I want to be like my inspirations, like Michael Jackson and Bruno Mars. They taught me that art is a way to connect with people, to express feelings, and to tell stories. What I want most is for people to feel the same joy I feel when I perform.”

The reporter nodded, jotting down his words with an interested look. “That’s truly inspiring, Pedro! Now, Bruno, let’s talk about you. Your meteoric career is impressive, going from Olympic judo competitor to movie actor. Can you tell us a bit about how that transition was for you and what it meant to be cast as Roberto da Costa, the Solar Man, in the latest X-Men movie?”

Bruno smiled, his confident expression shining through. “It was an incredible journey. I’ve always been passionate about martial arts, and judo, specifically, has always been a fundamental part of my life. I had the honor of training with the Gracie family in Brazil. The role of Roberto was extremely unexpected; I’d done some telenovelas in Brazil, but nothing this big, so being able to do something like this, even if in the grand scheme of things it was a relatively small role, was still amazing. I auditioned knowing I was perfect for the role but without high hopes of being recognized. When I got the call from Marvel, it felt like a dream come true. I have to thank Kevin Feige and the Russo brothers for believing in me and tapping into the plots of X-Men '97 in the new phase of the mutants. They gave me the opportunity to showcase my potential as an actor, and even though martial arts wasn’t the focus of the casting, it will always be a fundamental part of my life.”

Pedro listened attentively, admiring the confidence Bruno displayed while talking about his career. He realized that although Bruno was distant from their previous friendship, their passion for their respective arts was still a point of connection.

“Speaking of martial arts, you’ll be playing a self-defense instructor and romantic lead opposite Zendaya in the new film by none other than Greta Gerwig. How do you feel about that new role?” the reporter asked, her gaze fixed on Bruno.

“It’s a huge responsibility,” Bruno replied, his eyes shining. “It represents a side of me that the people who followed me in sports never got to see, which is what’s behind the fighter's figure. The energy of the fight, the determination, and strength are characteristics I feel deeply, and I’m excited to showcase that even more with such an incredible director.”

“I have hot information that sparks flew in the more intimate scenes between you and Zendaya.”

“That’s called chemistry, which doesn’t mean something more happened. With the right angle, you can make sparks fly anywhere; take today’s shoot as an example. A competent director can make it seem like there’s something between Pedro and me, even if in reality that’s impossible,” Bruno responded, striking another blow to Pedro’s feelings before continuing to speak. “We need to be careful with this kind of comment; Zendaya is practically married, and I’m engaged.” He finished with a smile on his face, causing Pedro to sink even further.

“Oh, yes, Amanda Grant, silver in rhythmic gymnastics at the last Olympics, and you two were voted couple of the year in several publications. When can we expect the wedding?”

“Soon,” Bruno replied with an enigmatic smile, adding nothing more. The reporter asked more questions for both of them, but Pedro only gave automatic responses as he felt powerless and trapped in a way he had never felt even when stuck in a parallel dimension.

Pedro took a deep breath again, trying to concentrate while the reporter stepped back to capture some photos of the shoot. He and Bruno were in a well-lit studio, surrounded by flashes and laughter, but Bruno's presence kept him in a constant state of tension. When it came time to remove their shirts, the atmosphere shifted. Bruno's well-defined, muscular body seemed to shine under the lights, and the memory of their time together flooded Pedro's mind like a whirlwind.

He struggled to maintain his composure, but every time Bruno moved, their proximity made the situation almost unbearable. The scent of Bruno’s cologne, mixed with his sweat, and the way his muscles flexed as he posed for the camera were all reminders of the incredible sex they had shared. Pedro felt like he was in an emotional battlefield, fighting against the attraction that pulsed between them.

“Cut! Let’s take a break,” shouted the photographer, and Pedro let out a sigh of relief. Bruno’s part in the photoshoot was over, and the actor’s exit eased some of the weight on Pedro’s shoulders. He began to relax, feeling more at ease with the camera and the crew around him.

The reporter returned, and after some light conversation, Pedro found himself having fun, laughing, and getting into the energy of the moment. When it finally came time to film the TikTok video with Ana, the music pulsed in the background, and he started teaching the dance steps he had created. The joy of dancing and teaching infected Pedro, and he forgot the tensions of the shoot, diving into the music and Ana's contagious presence.

However, that joy was abruptly interrupted when, at the end of the shoot, Ana led him to the dressing room, a hotel room serving as a rest space for the team. Upon opening the door, Pedro felt his heart stop for a moment. Bruno was there, sitting in one of the chairs, wearing a simple t-shirt but with a look that seemed to penetrate his soul.

Pedro tried to ignore the tension in the air as he served himself some water, but the emotion of having Bruno so close in a room where they were just the two of them was undeniable. Turning around, Pedro met Bruno's gaze, which seemed charged with something undefined.

“Hey,” Pedro said, trying to keep calm, but his voice came out shakier than he would have liked.

“What are you thinking, boy? You think I didn’t see the way you look me?” Bruno asked, his tone challenging. “I think you’re crazy about me,” he said, moving closer after locking the door.

Pedro opened his mouth to deny it, but the words didn’t come out. Instead, he felt Bruno’s hand gripping his neck tightly, and a chill ran down his spine. “Bruno, wait…”

Before he could finish the sentence, Bruno closed the distance, sealing their lips in an intense kiss. At first, Pedro was paralyzed, surprised by the gesture. But as the kiss deepened, something inside him ignited, and he began to respond, his confused feelings giving way to desire.

When they finally pulled apart, Pedro was speechless, his heart racing. Bruno let out a playful, carefree laugh. “Man, I loved seeing that sad puppy dog look on your face.”

Pedro furrowed his brow, confused. “What do you mean by that?”

Bruno looked at him, his eyes sparkling. “I waited three years, two months, and 25 days for you. When I saw your name on the photoshoot list, I almost fainted. All this time and nothing… I had practically given up. Then today, magically, reality adjusted, and a new pop singer appeared at the top of all the charts, and I allowed myself to feel hope again.”

“Do you remember me?” Pedro asked, incredulity washing over him.

“Apparently, you didn't get smarter during the time we were apart,” Bruno replied, a mischievous smile on his lips.

Pedro felt indignant at that. “Filho da puta, arrombado! he said in portuguese with an irritated voice.

“Yeah, but I’m the asshole son of a bitch you want,” Bruno replied, while squeezing Pedro's impressively large cock, pulling him close again, and they shared another kiss, full of passion and intensity.

As Pedro and Bruno’s lips met again, the accumulated tension dissipated like smoke in the wind. The kiss was a mix of desire and longing, a reunion that seemed destined to happen from the start.

Bruno held Pedro’s face firmly, as if fearing he might disappear at any moment. Pedro’s hand slid down Bruno’s back, feeling the definition of his muscles beneath his t-shirt, and a wave of heat coursed through his body. The outside world faded away, and all that mattered was that moment, that touch.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” Bruno whispered between kisses, his voice hoarse and laden with emotion. “Every day without you was a challenge.”

Pedro felt his heart race. “I missed you too, Bruno. You were the reason I fought to be who I am now.”

The intensity of the moment heightened, and Bruno pulled Pedro closer, his hands exploring the other’s body with passionate urgency. Pedro surrendered to the touch, Bruno’s fingers gliding over his exposed skin. The desire grew between them like a flame, illuminating the darkness surrounding them.

“Let’s do this right,” Bruno said, his voice deep and full of promises as he began to unbutton Pedro’s shirt slowly, revealing his well-defined, tanned torso.

Pedro held his breath, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through him. He had never felt so desired, so alive. With a swift motion, he pulled Bruno closer, their mouths meeting in an even deeper kiss as their hands explored one another's bodies.

The tension between them was palpable, and Pedro let himself be carried away by the passion enveloping them. He felt Bruno’s muscles against his, and the chemistry between them was undeniable. Bruno's hands slid across his back as Pedro lost himself in the sensation of finally being reunited with the man he had longed for for so long.

As they pulled away for a brief moment, both breathless, Bruno looked into Pedro’s eyes, the intensity of his gaze making Pedro’s heart race. “I want you, Pedro. Now and always.”

“Then let’s not wait any longer,” Pedro replied, determination echoing in his voice. He pulled Bruno closer, their bodies joining in a dance of desire and passion.

Bruno smiled, a smile that promised everything they had dreamed of together. They moved together, falling into a trance of touches and kisses as reality around them faded into a whirlwind of sensations. The heat of their bodies melded, and each touch seemed to ignite a new flame between them.

The kisses grew more intense, more urgent, as they surrendered to the passion engulfing them. The outside world faded away, and all that mattered was that influx of passion and desire that found release as the two took turns fucking each other.

After their intense moment of passion, Pedro and Bruno found themselves lying together, their bodies intertwined in a silence that was both comfortable and heavy. The warmth between them still simmered, but a shadow of concern began to loom in Bruno’s mind. He looked at Pedro, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and remorse.

“That was reckless,” Bruno said, his voice low and reflective, as if he were trying to grasp the gravity of what had just happened.

Pedro frowned, his heart racing again. “Reckless? Why? We finally found each other again. After everything we’ve been through, this isn’t recklessness; it’s… it’s what should have happened.”

Bruno sighed, looking away. “I know, but the truth is, I’m engaged to Mandy. This isn’t just a love affair; it’s a convenience. I’m an emerging actor, and she comes from a very religious family that would never accept her sexuality. We have an arrangement. The image we need to maintain is everything.”

Pedro felt a knot form in his stomach. “Are you serious? So all of this… was just a moment?” His voice trembled with the pain of the revelation.

“No, it wasn’t just a moment,” Bruno hurried to reply, holding Pedro’s hand. “What I feel for you is real, but the reality of our world is complicated. Being engaged to someone who is a public figure helps maintain an image that makes things easier in the entertainment industry. Life is much simpler if you seem straight, even if the truth is different.”

Pedro fell silent, absorbing Bruno’s words. He didn’t want to believe that his happiness could be so quickly undone by social conventions. “This is awful!”

“I don't deny it, but what about you? With millions of female fans believing they’ll be the chosen one? The image of an available man is important to you. And as much as things have progressed regarding representation, you'll lose most of your audience if you come out.”

Pedro nodded, frustration clear on his face. “Yeah, I know, but it’s so unfair.”

“Yes, it’s unfair, but the world is unfair, even more so with people like us, we can pretend that things are better now, that we are accepted, that prejudice has disappeared, but that is a lie, the prejudice is just veiled, especially in the current political situation. That’s why we need to be careful. Our relationship cannot be exposed. We’ll have to hide it.”

“Hide? How can you ask that?” Pedro asked, indignation rising within him. “Do you think I can just ignore what we have? Ignore how I feel about you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Bruno explained, his expression now softer. “We need to find a middle ground. After the article comes out, we can be seen as best friends. A classic bromance. This will pique the curiosity of the gay community and allow for some fanfics to be created, but we need to ensure it doesn’t go beyond that.”

Pedro took a deep breath, trying to process everything. The idea of hiding his love troubled him, but he knew Bruno was partially right. The pressure from the industry was intense, and any scandal could ruin their careers.

“So that’s it? Friendship instead of love?” Pedro asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“Not exactly,” Bruno said, looking into Pedro’s eyes. “You are more than a friend to me. But we need to be strategic. It’s the only way to keep everything under control.”

Pedro felt his heart tighten. The idea of living in secret was painful, but what Bruno proposed was an opportunity to maintain something true between them.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re sacrificing for me,” Pedro declared, his voice firm. “If this is what we need to do to protect what we have, then I’ll try. But it won’t be easy.”

Bruno smiled, the tension in his face easing a bit. “Nothing worth having is easy, Pedro. But if we’re together, we can face anything.”

Pedro nodded, feeling a new determination forming within him. “Then let’s do this. Let’s be the best friends the world has ever seen while keeping our love a secret.”

Bruno returned to caressing Pedro’s face, his fingers gliding gently over his tanned skin. “You have no idea how much this means to me,” he said, sincerity resonating in every word. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Pedro raised an eyebrow, curious. “What is it?”

Bruno hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “I was able to track down Ibrahim. Remember him? The bodybuilder who took Jason’s place?”

Pedro’s eyes lit up. “Seriously? And where is he?”

“He’s now the owner of the gym where Jason went. Since he returned, he’s become a renowned personal trainer in New York. Whenever I go there, he helps me train and improve. We still keep in touch, and he’s been a great help to me,” Bruno explained, a satisfied smile on his face.

“That’s amazing!” He didn't have any anger towards the man, after all, if it weren't for him, Pedro wouldn't be who he was today.

“Yeah, we tried to locate others who went through the mirror, and Ibrahim has really dedicated himself to that. We found out that Carter, the guy who was there before me, is now a firefighter in Washington and still does some shifts as a lifeguard at the hotel,” Bruno continued, excitement growing as he spoke.

“Wow! That’s really cool. And did you find out anything else?” Pedro inquired, increasingly curious about what had happened to those who shared the same experience.

“Yes, from Carter, Ibrahim even managed to compile a significant list of names. But we don’t have much contact,” Bruno replied, his expression serious.

“Why not?”

“Before Jason arrived and refused to move on, there was always the possibility of it being something random, a crazy play by cosmic forces. But what happened to us, the smartphone, demonstrates that there’s some intent behind it; what happened to us isn’t random.”

“Another reason to investigate!” Pedro said, perhaps encouraged by some remaining trait of Jason.

“Do you really want to provoke a being that has the power to send you back to that place? Try to understand man, we’re all happy to varying degrees with our lives; none of us want to see them erased. Be honest with me; have you deliberately looked in any mirrors since you returned?”

Bruno’s question made Pedro remember the terror he felt before facing the bathroom mirror.

“I understand.” Said Pedro in a low voice and a sad expression.

“Cheer up, man; whoever or whatever is behind this returned you directly to me; maybe it’s an olive branch.”

“Or a warning of what we could lose if we poke around too much. You guys are right; let’s enjoy the lives we’ve gained.”

Bruno smiled, but then a spark of curiosity appeared on his face. “Hey, I need to ask you: what happened to that nerd whose place I took in the bathroom at Comic-Con?”

“Jake? Oh, he’s an awesome guy! You won’t believe it; now he’s a typical surfer, full of energy and always smiling. I really hope to run into him when he gets back,” Pedro said with a smile on his lips.

Bruno made a thoughtful expression. “Should I feel jealous?” he asked, a mischievous smile forming on his face.

“Only if you don’t behave,” Pedro replied, winking at Bruno. He then pulled Bruno close again, capturing his lips in an intense kiss filled with passion and desire.

…

Betty walked along the hot sand of a Hawaiian beach, feeling the sea breeze caress her face and the fine grains burying under her bare feet. The scenery was stunning, with waves gently breaking on the shore and the sky tinged with blue. However, the joy of the moment was overshadowed by the sting she felt on her skin, burned by the sun. “How could I be so stupid?” she thought, recalling that she had left without applying sunscreen, even knowing its importance.

As she moved forward, she observed groups of tourists having fun, surfers challenging the waves, and children playing in the water. The scene was vibrant, but Betty couldn’t focus on the beauty around her. Her mind was occupied with the pain and frustration of having forgotten the basics. She was far from the hotel and urgently needed a bathroom to assess the damage.

After a long walk, she spotted a seaside bar filled with surfers laughing and sharing stories. As she approached, her heart raced with relief. “I hope the owner doesn’t mind,” she thought as she made her way to the bar. With a nervous smile, she asked the bartender, “Excuse me, can I please use the bathroom? I really need to.”

The man, with a sympathetic look, led her to the bathroom, and Betty thanked him, feeling a bit more at ease. As soon as she entered, she closed the door and faced herself in the mirror. The reflection showed a middle-aged woman, plump and with a flushed face marked by sunburns. She couldn’t help but let out an ironic smile. “Look at you, Betty. What a beauty!” she murmured, running her hand over her sore skin, not even noticing the opulence of the mirror before her, completely out of place in the reality of the seaside bar.

Then, suddenly, something made her freeze. The image reflected in the mirror was no longer hers but that of a young man with long, shiny blonde hair, defined muscles, and sun-kissed skin. Betty was startled, but the reflected surfer merely smiled and began walking toward her. Unable to control her own feet, she moved closer to the mirror. The man inside the mirror reached out his hand, and Betty, as if hypnotized, extended her own hand while the man’s smile widened.

#male tf #mind change #reality change #mental transformation #musclegrowth #race change #f2m transformation #m2m transformation #my story

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yunholuvrr · 2 years ago

Text

muse

summary: Your friend Hongjoong just held a show for his new fashion line and invited you to photograph the event, but one model catches your eye more than any of the clothes on the runway.

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

genre: smut, model!yunho, fashion designer!hongjoong, photographer!reader

warnings: explicit smut minors dni, petnames (baby, love, princess), big dick yunho, semi-public sex???? pretty tame i think, lmk if i should add anything

note: taking a break from we all need love to indulge in my feelings for cosmopolitan yunho oh my GAWD he's so fine.... & i did not proofread sorry for any typos

You've worn many hats since you graduated. Interning at various clothing companies, freelance photography picking up gigs from friends and classmates, and a brief stunt as a journalist. It only makes sense that all your jobs have led to you standing in front of a glowing runway, camera propped and ready for the first model to walk out, people rushing by as they settle into their front row seats.

Not every classmate of yours was doing well in the fashion industry, but one in particular was making waves, if this event was anything to go by. Kim Hongjoong, the designer that came out of nowhere.

You chuckle at the marketing of your old friend. Anyone who knew him would know he was born to design clothes, hell, if you didn't know him you'd only have to take one look at his closet. But in the grand scheme of things, a man's gender inclusive line going viral after only 2 years in the industry is pretty unheard of.

The lights dim and you focus on your camera's digital screen, quadruple checking all your settings. Hongjoong was your biggest client during your freelancing days, and your gig tonight was to capture his show for press. Usually you'd just be doing personal events like weddings or birthdays, but these would be seen be anyone and everyone in the industry. To say you were nervous would be an understatement.

One model after another appears on stage, making their rounds in all types of bold, complex outfits. His work wasn't really your style, you preferred to keep it simple and comfortable, but it's hard to deny its appeal. The models he invited showed the pieces off amazingly, too. They worked on all body types and proportions, which you made sure to capture in every photo.

One man in particular stood out to you as you took every shot you could. He looked more like a traditional model, tall and thin, lean and muscular in all the right places. He could get a job anywhere he tried. The charisma oozing from his face was infectious. A few dark strands of hair fell in front of his rhinestone speckled eyes, which seemed to make eye contact with every single person in the room. His cupid's bow was sharp, and the smirk he sent to your lens in particular had you nearly forgetting to press the shutter release.

"That's a wrap!" A man calls from behind you. The stage lights finally fade and the crowd dissipates, leaving you and a handful of other staff to pack up. You sit on a nearby stool, squinting at the small screen and clicking through your photos. Before you can get very far through your collection, someone taps you on the shoulder.

"After party in an hour babes," Hongjoong chirps next to you, "you're invited. Thanks for the excellent photos tonight."

"You haven't even seen them yet," you chuckle and finish packing up, resolving to get ready for the party despite the exhaustion you feel at the back of your mind.

He smacks your arm playfully before insisting that every photo you've ever taken has been perfect. "By the way, did any of the models catch your eye?"

"Is there a correct answer or do you want my honest thoughts?" You pierce right through your friend's shenanigans. Hongjoong has always been quite the matchmaker among your friends, although you wouldn't call it his most successful hobby. It's almost like he just picks two names out of a hat and decides they would look good together.

He only shakes his head, "I really wanna know! They're all really nice."

You only squint before responding, "Tall guy, dark hair. He was towards the end but he really walked his ass off."

His face lights up immediately and you know you chose the right answer, "Yunho!"

"Yunho," you repeat, "yeah he's nice to look at. I suppose that's his job."

"He's the newest model I've worked with," Hongjoong looks at the runway fondly, "I didn't know if he'd bring anything special to the table at first, but he's truly irresistible."

"And you invited him to the after party and you want us to meet because we'd be such a perfect couple," you stand up, eye to eye with him now, and giggle at the little game he's playing.

"Maybe so... but listen!" You both start walking towards the exit, "I don't want you to fuck him on the first night or anything. Just get to know him, at the very least you'll get a new client. His portfolio is bare bones."

You don't even have time to process what he said before he's slipping away backstage with a quick goodbye. If you were being honest, this Yunho guy probably wouldn't be a bad hookup. You weren't really looking for anything, but he's pretty. And you can't deny good work connections.

You arrive 20 minutes after Hongjoong told you to, fashionably late. You planned to have a drink or two and stick close to him since the small buds of exhaustion have already bloomed into a fullblown headache. No one should have any questions for a random photographer anyway.

"Speak of the devil, there's my right hand woman now!" Your thoughts were immediately proven wrong when you walk in and a small group of models you recognize from the runway stare fondly in your direction. Yunho is one of them, of course, but you try not to think about the words spoken about him just an hour earlier.

"Hi! I'm y/n, we went to school together," you manage a convincing smile as Hongjoong passes you a drink.

"I can't wait to see your photos," one lady gushed, "Hongjoong showed us some of your work and your style is just lovely."

You a manage a small thanks before taking a small sip. The conversation flows into a new topic with ease and you're left in the background to quietly enjoy the party. That is, until you feel a light tap on your shoulder.

"Excuse me," a shy, deep voice floats above you, "you don't seem like you're in a talkative mood, but I had a question for you?"

You look up and Yunho smiles down at you. He looks nothing like he did on stage before; his piercing eyes have morphed into soft, welcoming ones and his charming smirk is replaced by a nervous grin. You nod and take another sip, letting him continue.

"Hongjoong has just mentioned you so much I thought I'd ask if you could take some headshots for me?" He fiddles with his fingers and when your eyes widen he looks away.

"What has he said about me?" You try not to sound accusatory, but it doesn't come across as nicely as you'd like.

"Oh nothing bad! Nothing bad at all," Yunho chuckles, and it might be the nicest sound you've heard at this party so far, "he just wouldn't stop talking about how great you are. I figured I'd take the hint and ask."

You shift from one foot to the other, considering his request before deciding it wouldn't hurt to get to know him more. "Is this your first modeling gig?"

"Just about," there's that chuckle again, and it's contagious, "I've done a few small things here and there, but this was the biggest scale by far."

"You know I won't lower my rates just because you're new," you tease, "or because Hongjoong wants me to."

He just shakes his head profusely, "oh absolutely not! If anything I was gonna offer you more..." you see Yunho think through his sentence as he says it, trailing off after realizing what exactly he said.

"You flatter me, but I'm not in the mood to talk business right now," you swear a slight pout comes across his face before you even get to finish.

He doesn't skip a beat, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and offering it to you, "then why don't we talk later?"

You can only mutter a "smooth" while tapping your number into his contacts. You hand it back to him and watch him type something before feeling a buzz in your own pocket.

"I'll send you some info when I have a moment this week," you try not to stare at his now mischievous smirk, continuing to sip from your empty cup.

"I'll be waiting," he bends down to your height, and his voice lowers to barely above a whisper, "talk to you soon."

He's gone before you know it, disappearing into the crowd, and the brief proximity makes your insides turn in ways you don't want to admit. You have to find Hongjoong.

His bright blue hair stands out near the food bar and you quickly make your way over. The words fly out of your mouth before you even get to him, "what exactly did you say to Yunho?"

He gives you a small huh, clearly tipsier than you are, before a look of recognition washes over his face. "Oh hi love! I didn't say anything, why?"

"He said you kept mentioning me to him?" You would laugh at the state of your friend if it weren't for the sudden desire to know everything Yunho thinks of you already.

"Hm, I only said you're a great at taking photos!" He clings onto your shoulder and laughs, "and that he stood out to you on the runway tonight! He smiled ear to ear when I said that, isn't he so cute?"

"Hongjoong you did not," you grab both of his shoulders and shake him a bit, "does he think I like him or something?"

"Do you?" When you don't respond he just laughs again, "I guess my job is already done."

"I don't even know him!" You wish you could sincerely be mad at the man in front of you, but he's been correct all night so far.

"Don't you want to though?"

"I hate you, seriously," you glare at him, but he only laughs again before returning to his previous conversation. You don't know what he's gotten you into, but you don't think you mind it.

Your workdays have been packed ever since the night of the show. Being Hongjoong's right hand photographer had its perks, like the dozens of offers you've received since the articles went out, but that doesn't mean it isn't the most stressed you've been in weeks. You all but collapse by the time your lunch break rolls around.

Forget about me already?

The light buzz of your phone disrupts your thoughts about scheduling. No one usually texts you, at least not during the day. No one except Yunho.

Sorry! I've been swamped. Let me send you the form my other clients are using to schedule with me.

Aw, no special treatment for your favorite model?

You make a mental note to beat the shit outta Hongjoong for doing this the next time you see him.

Maybe if you give me a good enough offer I'll put you at the top of my list

Not even 10 minutes later, a scheduling request dings on your phone and you see the payment is three times your normal rate for headshots. You mentally curse Joong for putting you in this situation, but you're willing to play the game if it means good dick and good pay.

Am I at the top of your list now? I can't wait to see you

You can't help the way your thighs squeeze together for a moment, now eager to fit him in your schedule (and elsewhere). You wrap up your short lunch with a newfound motivation to get through your emails, making sure to leave a 2 hour slot open for him. You wonder how long you can hold off on getting back to him before he starts begging you. That would have to be a game you play another time.

The studio is empty when you show up, allowing you to quietly set up just the way you want to. Your movements are quick and practiced, dozens of headshot appointments under your belt at this point. These were supposed to be simple and straightforward, so you didn't have much to prepare besides rolling down the white backdrop and setting up your lights. There were a few other props on the side if he wanted to take more shots. You asked a couple people to help out with equipment during the shoot, but you came in early just to have some peace and quiet. Your coworkers arrive a few minutes after you do, exchanging pleasantries before finishing the job you started.

Then he walks in. You're double checking your camera settings when you hear the front door open and his honey-like voice greeting the other staff. You feel his attention shift to you, and when you turn around a playful smirk is plastered on his face. His makeup isn't as dark as it was on the runway, but he looks clean and undoubtedly handsome. His styled hair falls just past his eyes, moving with his lashes every time he blinks. He's pretty, there's no way around it, a type of face that you can't help but stare at.

"Why don't you take a photo, it lasts longer," he snickers, snapping you out of whatever daze he put you in.

"That's my job after all," you motion to a stool in front of the camera, "do you want any props? We can do more than simple headshots if you'd like."

He nods and sits down, long legs crossing each other at the ankle. "I'd love that, miss photographer."

You narrow your eyes at the comment before signaling to the crew you're ready to go. One lady is on standby near the lights, another guy has a handful of reflectors ready. You try to ignore the tension between your model and focus on your craft.

"Can we try the gold?" You call out to your team, closely monitoring Yunho's face in the warmer light. After a moment of thought, you ask him to tilt his head. He's well behaved in front of the camera, following your every suggestion. You wonder if the crew can feel the heavy energy between you two.

After a half hour of posing, shooting, monitoring, retouching, and shooting again, you call for a break and everyone agrees. The couch in the corner of the studio looks so inviting you nearly run to sit down, oblivious to the way Yunho follows.

"You're really good at this," you jump at his voice next to you.

"I went to school for it so I would hope so," you mumble, getting comfortable. You open your phone, hoping to mindlessly scroll before you all come back, but he just plops down next to you.

"Have you ever gotten your own headshots taken?" You shake your head, trying to ignore the way his leg is pressed against yours. "You're so pretty behind that camera, maybe we can switch one day."

You almost bump into his face from how quickly you look up at him, "I'd never let you touch my equipment."

He hums in disapproval before pulling out his own phone and leaning back into the cushions. "Fine, maybe not me. But I don't see why Joong's never put you on the runway. You're stunning."

He expects a reaction from you, but you control yourself, leaning forward to get as much distance as you can. The two of you sit in innocent silence for a while, but the tension only grows thicker. There's five minutes before you shoot for at least another half hour, and when your job is to stare at his face you're not sure you can go much longer.

"What exactly did Hongjoong tell you about me?" You sit up straight, taking a leap of faith.

"About how in love you are with me, why?" You swiftly kick his leg next to you and he chuckles, "he just said I caught your eye. He wasn't lying was he?"

"No, definitely not," you sigh, "but what I don't understand is why you like me?"

"Who said I like you? You just happen to be very pretty and talented and fun to tease."

"So you do like me," you huff in disbelief. Something in you stirs with every word he says and you have to cross your legs for some relief from the building pressure.

"If wanting to take you right now in the middle of your studio means I like you, then sure," his slender fingers trace the back of your shoulders, wrapping a secure arm around you.

"We still have all the props to play with," you scan the studio, but your team is nowhere to be found during the break.

"What if I want to play with you instead?" His breath softly blows across your ear now, voice just barely above a whisper. It takes everything in you to not kiss him right then and there.

"You're the one paying for this timeblock," you pull up your crew group chat on your phone, already making a decision.

"If we could wrap up here that'd be lovely, miss photographer," there goes that stupid nickname again.

"You can't call me anything else?"

"Would you prefer baby? Maybe princess? Or do you like meaner things?" His hand moves again to rest between your shoulder blades as he watches you type out a quick message.

"I would prefer if you shut up honestly," you press send. As far as your team knows, the client is satisfied and wants to end the shoot here for today. No one complains, you're still being paid for two hours thanks to Yunho's generous payment.

"Will you make me?" He traces a small circle with his thumb on your back, and the comment sounds more inviting than teasing. Your body reacts before your mind does, practically throwing yourself onto him out of annoyance and need. His lips are warm and soft and mold perfectly to yours.

He takes a sharp inhale as your tongue swipes past his bottom lip, his hand travelling up to hold the back of your neck. The other abandons his phone to take purchase on your hip, pulling you further on top of him. Yunho groans at the contact, resisting the urge to buck his hips up into you already. His flirting was almost as hard on him as it was on you.

"So needy," you mumble, propping yourself up on his chest to take in the view. His eyes are already blown out from lust, raking your body and letting his hands follow. His long fingers brush over your hardening nipples and you can't help the sigh that escapes.

He chuckles, "you're one to talk." He rolls his hips ever so slightly and you whine, head falling into his shoulder. He feels bigger than average below you and you wonder what you've gotten yourself into. You slowly rock your hips above him with his hands guiding you, whimpering into his skin.

"Can I taste you?" You freeze, head shooting up to stare at him in confusion. He wraps two fingers around your belt loops and tugs you forward again. "Please baby?" You nod and he sighs with relief as if his life depended on eating you out. Maybe it does.

He lays you on your back on a couch far too small for both of you like this, but you don't care. His lips are back on yours, warm and tender, as you feel both your jeans and panties slide down your legs. The cold air makes you flinch.

"Did I make you this wet while I was on the runway, love?" You feel one slender finger slide through your folds, but it's not enough. "Staring at me behind that camera all day must be so hard. I'll make it up to you," is the last thing he says before tucks his head snugly between your thighs.

Whatever snarky reply you came up escapes you with a moan just a bit too loud, his tongue flattening up against your slit. He wastes no time, too desperate to hear you above him. One hand holding you down just below your stomach, another teasing your entrance while his mouth makes quick work of your clit. You hope to the universe none of your crew left anything in the studio because your whines and wetness echoed through the room.

Before you know it he pushes one, then two, fingers into you, filling you up deliciously, and you buck your hips into him. His pace is slow and deep, opening you up to his liking. Some combination of his tongue and fingers nearly makes you scream, hands shooting straight to pull his hair. He groans into your flesh, vibrations sending sparks straight to your core, before looking up at you. His chin is glossy and a line of spit still connects you both and you nearly come at the sight alone.

"You're fucking delicious, darling," he pumps into you one last time before taking them in his mouth, sucking with a pop, "next time you should ride my face for me."

"Next time?" You watch as he unzips his own pants, shoving them down far enough for his dick to escape. It rebounds off his stomach, bigger than anything you've taken before.

"By the way you're staring," he grips himself at the base, "I think you want a next time." The way you lick your lips is involuntary.

He chuckles, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the floor nearby. You continue to stare shamelessly, boosting his ego as you etch his large, toned body into your mind. "Like what you see?"

"If you don't come here and fuck me right now Yunho I swear to god," and you swear you can see his dick twitch, but he simply tuts a finger at you.

"Ah ah ah, safety first princess," he slides a condom out of his pant pocket, ripping it open and handing it to you. You tilt your head and take it reluctantly, but he only smirks, "I know you want to touch me."

"Fuck you," you roll your eyes, sitting up and coming face to face (face to tip?) with his member. You never thought you'd see a dick that you'd describe as pretty, but his is long and thick and flushed a pretty shade of pink. You wrap your free hand around the base and pump a few times to tease him.

"Not now, love," you hear a shaky breath above you and you smirk. He pulls your other hand up and you comply, unravelling the condom smoothly down him. As soon as you're done he pushes you back down, not risking the chance of you testing him again.

"Let me know if it's too much for you baby," he whispers before finally pushing in. The stretch only stings for a second before turning into delight as he fills you up completely.

You sigh out in relief, mumbling a soft "keep going" and wrapping your hands around his neck. He listens immediately, pulling back almost all the way before thrusting back in. He keeps his slow pace until he's completely sure you're comfortable.

He looks down at where you connect before finally losing his composure. "You take me so fucking well," he moans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses all over you. His pace quickens relentlessly, the sound of skin on skin filling the studio.

You scream at one particularly rough snap of his hips, but he only barely slows down. "You okay, princess?"

"So fucking good," you pant above him, his mouth still ravishing your neck. He groans at your response, fucking you harder than before. You didn't even know it was possible. You snake a hand down to your throbbing clit, so close to coming undone.

"Please come on my dick baby," he all but growls, and the way his hips falter tells you he's close too. His words, on top of everything else, are enough to finally unravel you. You shutter and jerk up into him, moaning some string of fuck's and Yunho's until your mind goes completely blank. He comes shortly after, pumping into you sporadically until he finally flops down on top of you.

You both take a few moments to come back to your senses, nothing but a mess of sweaty limbs on this cramped couch. "Next time I'll take you home so I'll have room to cuddle you after," he chuckles, picking himself up.

"I would like that," you smile softly, legs aching too much to even attempt sitting up. He cleans you both up quietly before plopping back down, letting you stretch your legs across his lap.

"So," his hand traces up your frame to cup your cheek, "can I take you out to dinner sometime, miss photographer?"

#yunho smut #yunho x reader #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #yunho oneshot #ateez oneshot #yunho scenarios #i need him carnally

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whoopsyeahokay · 7 months ago

Text

October Sun

summary: you hadn't been sure what to feel after demanding Ajay bring the others. bring everyone. it'd been reckless, stupid. Wally you had figured had been fine, perhaps even Ajay too, but everyone? it had either been the dumbest thing you'd ever done or the smartest. thankfully, you'd learned enough about the others to know what topics to avoid and which to use to your advantage...

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.22

You sat in the dining room, the French doors closed for privacy. Your family was in various positions around you as they helped you study the pile of file folders your mother had exhumed from the enormous wooden chest in the basement.

The dining room itself was large yet cozy, eclectic, lived in; it was where your mother brought her clients for readings and spiritual counsel. A round table took up the middle of the room; a tea tray and plates of finger foods were placed in the center where a hokey crystal ball normally sat. Shelves along the back wall were stuffed with books from the Barnes & Noble witchcraft section, boasting titles like, "A Witch's Guide to Garden Magick," and, "Spells & Incantations for a Better Life."

The plum-colored ceiling was decorated in constellations that Andrew had painted the week before your mother began marketing herself, and the wood floor was covered in a layer of Persian rugs thrown here and there that had absorbed the heavy musk of the incense your mother burned during sessions.

It was a beautiful room, to be sure, and you hated every inch of it. All the frivolous bits and bobs that encouraged people to believe a lie mocking you from their perches. Portraits of people who meant nothing to your family; taxidermized crows and owls and foxes. A mounted stag's head, because why not? It added to the rustic, sorcerous atmosphere.

"What about Rhonda Botezatu?" Ginny inquired around the stem of her cigarette holder. She was done up in a silk kimono, purple hair peeking out from beneath a bronze turban. An homage to Old Hollywood starlets who'd aged into roles they'd rather die than assume. Her thin fingers and wrists were bedazzled with chunky costume jewelry, but her neck remained bare. Apart, of course, from the delicate silver pendant she rarely removed.

You couldn't help smiling at her. She was absolutely marvelous.

"Rhonda..." You began, trying not to peer down at the notes. "Died April 1964. Murdered by Alfons Manfredo, the guidance counselor. She was really into Beatnik Culture and was going to study Engineering at UC Berkeley." You wilted, looking down at the yearbook photo paperclipped to Rhonda Botezatu's dossier. Rhonda stared up at you, the hint of a smile on her lips, clever eyes bright beneath layers of eyeliner and mascara. Your heart lurched.

"I used to watch her and her younger sister, Daria, when she was a child. Her parents were neighbors." Ginny divulged, using her cigarette holder to point out the window as if to indicate the exact house. "Her older sister, Yetta, was a pain. Refused to babysit; too busy husband-hunting, but Rhonda was a hoot. Questioned everything." Ginny chuckled, rolling her eyes, "Pecked at me all day, asking this and that. Couldn't shut her up unless I put on a record and let her dance out all that energy." Her eyes went distant, a fond expression settling into her features. "Precocious. Would've changed the world if she'd been given the chance."

Your mother huffed, hovering over you as she rifled through the mound of documentation. "You skipped Janet Hamilton."

"Ooh, that idiot," Ginny slumped forward dramatically, an impression of being utterly disgusted by something. Your mother cleared her throat with intention, eyes narrowed in distaste. Ginny sighed and rolled her hand regally in your direction, "Alright, chicken, tell us what you know about her."

You stifled a giggle into the back of your hand, sharing a fond look with Andrew at Ginny's antics. "Okay, Janet. She died in 1960, but...I didn't see how...did I miss that?" You asked, scanning the sheet of paper you'd pulled from the dossier.

"No, sweetheart," Nanna assured, "There's no record of it that I ever found. Of course, by the time I started gathering information, a lot of time had passed." You could tell she was trying very hard to search her memory. Unfortunately, however, it seemed she kept finding only blank spaces.

"It was an accident of some sort," Ginny piped up. "Broke her neck somehow. Falling down the stairs, I think."

Nanna frowned, shaking her head at herself, "I vaguely recall some mention of it...honestly, you'd think I'd remember." The laugh that bubbled out of her was strained, tinged with disbelief. "She was my math tutor." A glance at Ginny to confirm, "I could've sworn it happened right before I started middle school."

"Don't look at me," Ginny scoffed, "Maybe you should scribble it down before you forget to again." She looked at Andrew, roping him into the joke, "You need to get your mother checked out, Drew, before she starts forgetting your birthday."

Positioning her reading glasses just above the tip of her nose, Nanna plucked the paper from your hand, adding, in beautiful cursive, a note about Janet's death. "You did forget his birthday last year..."

Ginny took a quick sip of her sherry, rushing to defend, "Oh pish, I did not. I told you, the gift was delayed." And then, as a side note, "Poor Reggie really is losing his mind," though she didn't sound worried about her old friend cum antique dealer. Rather, it was a pitying statement of fact, said in the manner most elderly people use when discussing each other's senility. She put her sifter down and whipped a taunting stare at Nanna, "You know, Babbigail, had either of you listened when I suggested you try the Sudoku, you wouldn't be losing your marbles quite so early."

"Oh, baldercrap," Nanna retaliated, "I'm just as sharp as I've always been!" She narrowed her eyes, mock-accusing, and presented to the room, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were cheating."

"Cheating?"

"I wouldn't put it past you to use spells all willy-nilly for your benefit."

Nanna winked at you when Ginny scoffed, outraged, straightening her spine and puffing out her chest, "Oh, how very dare you! My own sister!? Implying I would ever turn my back on the Circle!" She lifted the back of her bejeweled wrist to her brow, "Judas!"

You and Andrew dissolved into fits of laughter at the theatrics. Ginny and Nanna bickered often, always making a show of it for everyone's entertainment. It was one of many reasons that you were glad you were all under the same roof, even when it got crowded sometimes.

Behind you, your mother wasn't as amused by the performance, scoffing as she patted your head, reminding you to, "Focus, sweetheart, you only have two days to memorize all of this." She flashed an annoyed look between Nanna and Ginny, "If you two are finished, maybe we could get back to it?"

Ginny sagged sideways against the back of the chaise longue, waving dismissively with her cigarette holder, "No need to get worked up, Alice. The girl has plenty of time to sort all this out." Still, she gestured for you to move on to the next student.

Bernadette King, died in 1969 after tragically falling from a height in the old gymnasium. Then Dawn Burton, died in 1972 by accidental electrocution. Next was Yuri Vyarheychyk, a transplanted Belarussian boy who'd somehow fallen head-first into a kiln during a pottery lesson in 1978, succumbing to severe burns before the ambulance had arrived.

"Are you guys sure I should go there?" You asked, face twisted in concern as you absorbed the seemingly endless pile of information on the table, evidence that too many awful things had transpired at Split River High before now. "It sounds kinda dangerous."

"You'll be just fine," Ginny said, "You're too important. The Awen won't let anything happen to you." It sounded like something a great-aunt was obligated to say, those reassurances that you were the 'most specialist of special children.' In a world where you'd witnessed something profoundly horrific take someone you'd considered more special than yourself, your great-aunt's statement was of little comfort.

Nanna reached across the table and petted your hand affectionately, tacking on, "You have nothing to worry about. We've all attended and we're just fine. Your sister actually really enjoyed herself."

You gave her a tight smile, "If you say so," then accepted the next dossier Andrew pulled out of the pile.

"We're getting into the 80s, now." He informed, eyes twinkling as he stared over your head at your mother. "Starting with the totally hunky football star—"

"Don't start," Your mother warned. You could feel the look on her face, something eye-twitchy and vexed.

Andrew snickered, rising to the challenge, and tapped his finger on the photo clipped to the front of the folder. It drew your attention down to a face that—your breath caught, an unusual warmth blossoming within you as you took in the young man grinning up at you from the photo. The print in the top right corner said his name was 'Wallace James Clark'. He was...hot. Like center-of-the-sun hot. Soulful, brown eyes, kissable lips, hair swept back in a perfect 80s poof.

Andrew whistled, long and punctuating, forcing a blush to rise on the arches of your cheeks. "I think girly's got a crush," He ruffled your hair obnoxiously, "Aurora had the same reaction when we put her through the paces. 'He's so hot, oh my god,'" He mimicked in a high falsetto, "'If I could see ghosts, I'd literally ask him out, I don't care.'"

"Rory had to do this too?" You wondered, eyes never wavering from Wally's handsome face.

"Of course she did, chicken. Everyone has to. Even your grandmother had to and she can't see ghosts." Ginny explained.

"But why? If Nanna and Rory can't see ghosts, what does it matter?"

Nanna smiled sweetly at you, "Understand, dear, abilities don't always manifest fully at an early age like yours did. Before Aurora entered high school, her empathy was very subtle. Then, in her junior year, out of the blue, she could identify each ghost without batting an eye. If the Ciorcal of the Craft allowed it, I bet she would've had whole conversations with them without needing to see or hear them."

You knew Aurora's empathy was acute, how she could wield it like a weapon or a gift depending on her mood. You'd never tell her, but you found it pretty remarkable. Almost envied her for it. Your life would be much easier if you couldn't see the dead.

"That's why we do this, chicken. It's a contingency, just in case our powers manifest late or they mature faster than we have time to do something about it." Ginny elaborated and it made sense. Similar to Aurora and Nana, Andrew hadn't had any indication that he would develop Connectedness until much later, but now he gleaned incredible things from objects on command.

You didn't realize you'd been staring at Wally's photo the whole time, not once looking up to acknowledge those around you, until Nanna leaned over and voiced, "He was very handsome, wasn't he," obviously having been observing your predicament, "And so respectful. His mother and I were in a book club together with some of the other moms from the school." Suddenly, her tone shifted, turning solemn, "Bea was hard on him, though. Drove him to be the best." She sighed, "I really felt for him."

You listened with half an ear, more interested in pondering what Wally had felt about the pressure his mother supposedly put on him. Had he been equally as motivated? Or had he buckled under the weight of expectation? A tiny sliver of your soul yearned to have the chance to ask him, ignoring for the moment the Rule that your whole family lived by.

"Come on, sweetheart," Your mother's voice interrupted your thoughts, "we have a lot to go through and 2004 is going to be tricky." She flipped open Wally's folder, thus forcefully removing his face from your line of sight, doing for you what you hadn't been able to do for yourself. You exhaled a shivery breath, swallowing thickly as you accepted the first of three typewriter-typed pages. Your mother pointed to the third line of the second paragraph, "Alright, let's start here..."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Ajay had smuggled you into the school and up to the roof, managing to keep you from being caught. There had been one close call when Barry had treaded around a corner, flashlight up, demanding to know if anyone was there when your sneaker had squeaked against the linoleum. You'd watched in fascination as Ajay had manipulated his ghostliness to his advantage. He'd marched right up to Barry who, as a living person, had been unconsciously driven to avoid the invisible obstacle, his brain having fed him some rationalization or excuse that had sent him on his way. Piece of cake.

Presently, you stood near the roof's edge, fidgeting nervously as Ajay helped two people over the raised side of the portal, one after the other. You gulped, your heart beating faster and your palms clammy as you took in who they were. Rhonda Botezatu and Charley Morino. Fuck...shit... Instantly, you regretted telling Ajay to bring everyone. God, could you get more stupid!? This was such a bad idea, your mother's voice reverberating inside your skull threats of squalls and storms and ill-fated summonings. Despite the desire to stand your ground and do this for Simon, your soul trembled in despair, unable to shake the feeling of failure after years and years of being told not to let them know you can see.

You squirmed under Rhonda and Charley's attention, your eyes flicking up to their faces and then back down to your shoes as your nerves began to fray. God, Simon, you fretted, I hope it's worth it. 'It' being all the possible repercussions you could face should anyone discover what you'd done. And the more who knew what you could do, the more it was likely that someone would find out.

As you contemplated your friend, a shadow flickered over Rhonda's shoulder. A there-and-gone impression of movement that had wobbled like hot air rising from a desert road. You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them again, seeing nothing to indicate what you'd witnessed had ever occurred.

"Isn't that the chick Wally was hung up on a couple of years ago?" You heard Rhonda ask Charley as they approached. Strangely, they moved as if they intended to make room for someone else between them, but, as you checked on Ajay's progress at the portal, you didn't see anyone else emerge.

"I'm not sure..." Charley answered her, openly studying you through slitted eyes; suspicious, cautious, clearly unsure what he thought about you. Still, he emanated a warmer, more welcoming aura than Rhonda who was all attitude and cool eyes. "If it is, we owe him a massive apology."

Rhonda didn't seem to agree, "She'd better make it up to him. Took him forever to stop sulking."

You were both pleased that Wally's friends had his back and cowed at the reminder that you'd basically gaslighted him in sophomore year, and Rhonda seemed keen to hold that against you. Surreptitiously, you kept peeking behind Rhonda and Charley, willing the universe to be kind and deliver Wally's fortifying presence to you. With him beside you, you felt you could handle Rhonda's cutting remarks and Charley's weighted stare.

As if on cue, the connection began to rumble and roll inside you, rising with more interest as you felt Wally get closer, and your heart started to pound for an entirely different reason.

"So," Rhonda started as she stopped two feet in front of you, arms crossed and expression tightly controlled, "You can see us."

You didn't know what else to say apart from, "Yep," wincing as it fell out of your mouth.

Rhonda's glare turned lethal, "And you didn't think that maybe you should try and help us?"

"I—"

"Oh, no, wait, that's right, you decided to help Ajay and leave the rest of us to rot, is that it?"

Charley reached out and touched her arm, sending her an expression of warning before returning his attention to you. "I am curious about why you decided now was a good time for a big reveal?" He asked in a roundabout way, tone sprinkled lightly with denigration.

That, at least, was a simple answer. "Simon's in trouble and I want to help get him out of it."

"Right," Charley looked at Rhonda, briefly seeming to cast behind her, then looked back at you, "The o t h e r living person who can see ghosts. Are you guys part of the same coven or...?"

As sarcastic as he sounded, you sensed his genuine interest and decided to expand on—wait, "Simon can what?"

Ajay's words from earlier flew out of the ether and into your head: "Everyone just got over Charley keeping Simon a secret." Well, fuck me sideways. At the time, you'd been too distracted by the fact that Ajay knew about you and Wally. Then that, of course, had been eclipsed by Ajay's purported friendship with Aurora that she'd never bothered to disclose. With all those thoughts vying for attention, your brain had swiftly filled in the blanks about Charley and Simon with something that made enough sense to keep you from poking at it. Charley, you'd guessed, had kept Simon a secret like most teenagers keep their crush a secret from their friend group. To avoid getting teased.

Thinking about it now, you realized that was the second-most idiotic thing you'd ever come up with after encouraging Ajay to give you an audience with a bunch of ghosts you were supposed to avoid like the plague.

"Are. you. fucking. k i d d i n g. me!?" You dropped into a crouch, top half folded over your knees as you dug your fingers into the back of your head, wholly and utterly defeated by the endless siege of fuckery that had been unleashed since last Friday.

"We'll take that as a 'no'," Rhonda remarked, sounding as though she was checking her cuticles. "So, what are you? A necromancer or something?"

"No," You said miserably into your knees. You rose, rubbing your temples as you tried to process everything while simultaneously explaining, "And I'm not a witch, either, so you can forget about that coven bullshit."

You were getting riled up, angry, confused; Simon could see ghosts, too? Seriously? That could have made the conversation you and he had had on the swings a helluva lot easier, dammit. But, nooo, he'd kept that to himself. And, honestly, fuck Aurora, too, because you'd spent the last three years of your life on edge and constantly alert when you could've, maybe, given fewer shits?!

Another odd, shadowy flicker distorted the air almost directly in front of you but you ignored it, your frustration gaining momentum because, fine, yeah, you hadn't said anything to Simon either, but what the fuck anyway—!

Just as you were about to scream into the void, a warm, calming sensation swept over you, the familiar scent of Wally's cologne and the pomade he used in his hair curling under your nose like a cartoon wafteron. You tilted your head up, eyes immediately locking on his, and the tension seeped out of your muscles. Wally's steps were measured, his jaw tight, shoulders squared as if he was fighting to control himself from jumping on you.

Right. Ajay had insisted that you and Wally act as if you'd never interacted. Earlier, it'd been easy to agree, the connection subtle and at ease; now, you weren't so sure. The syrupy-slick sensation lulled you into a dreamlike fog, transfixed by Wally's closeness. You watched Wally's throat bob when he swallowed, eyes drifting to his lips before slowly tracking back up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze.

"Hi..." You said, voice catching as Wally neared.

The others observed with assorted expressions of confusion and intrigue, Rhonda asking, "Whaaat the hell is happening?" to which Charley replied, "I have no idea..."

Ajay explained on your behalf, tone entirely put-upon, "It's the cRaZiEsT tHiNg. I noticed it before. Like they have some kind of mYsTeRiOuS cOnNeCtiOn drawing them together..." Glimpsing at him, you saw Ajay's features had flattened, his demeanor projecting exactly how done with everything he was, yet you couldn't find it within yourself to care. Wally was right there, gazing at you with soft eyes and a lopsided smile.

The flicker appeared again, though, unlike before, an almost physical energy came with it, arcing outward from its source into your front, forcing you back a step. A look of alarm spooked Wally's face. He lurched forward a step, simultaneously bringing his hand up as if to place it on something.

What happened next happened so quickly that you almost didn't catch it. As soon as Wally's hand made contact, a featureless silhouette popped into existence. You couldn't make out who they were, could hardly register anything as you stumbled backward another step in surprise, the back of your leg hitting the low ledge that lined the roof. From there, gravity took over, pulling you down as you teetered precariously over the wrong side of the ledge. Everyone reacted at once, Rhonda and Charley reaching out, Ajay yelling and grabbing the silhouette, and Wally—

"No!" Wally shouted as he leapt forward, grabbed you by the front of your sweater, and hauled you tightly against him before you plummeted several meters down onto the concrete below. He whirled around, planting himself between you and the ledge, his nose in your hair, heart hammering under your palm, panting from the adrenaline rush. His embrace was viselike, keeping you together as a jolt of fear shot through you.

"Are you okay?" He asked, eyes the size of saucers as he cradled your face in his big hands.

You peeked helplessly up at him, a lump in your throat and pressure behind your eyes, Jesus Christ, you'd almost joined them in the afterlife...but that wasn't the thought that blared in your head like an air raid siren.

"Do it again." You commanded, breathless, gripping Wally's arms and encouraging him to turn around. "Touch whatever you just touched again."

He blinked at you, dumbfounded, obviously not understanding what the hell you were on about.

"Whatever you just did," You instructed, "do it again," placing your hand on his shoulder to show him what you meant. Although he continued to stare at you like you'd grown a second head, he released you and moved back. You marveled as he stepped forward a few feet, picked his hand up, and then placed it down seemingly in midair. Except it wasn't midair. It was a shoulder that became visible under the weight of Wally's hand.

He shot you a peculiar expression, eyebrows drawn in doubt, "Uh...like this?" And then he stepped aside.

You gasped, going very, very still as your mouth fell open and your eyes bulged, a single, quivering utterance tumbling out of you. "Holy shit."

Everyone, including Wally, watched you in wonder, completely oblivious to the miracle that had just occurred. Everyone including—

"Maddie!?"

💀___________________________

PART TWENTY-ONE - PART TWENTY-THREE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies #October Sun

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blissfullyecho · 2 months ago

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The 80/20 Rule: 2025’s Secret Weapon to a Great Year in Self-Improvement

Join my 3-hour live workshop on Zoom, where we will create a tailored luxe glow-up plan personalized for you for 2025. Seats are limited and are first come, first served. Click here for more info.

The 80/20 rule (aka the Pareto Principle), is a concept that states that roughly 80% of results come from 20% of the efforts or inputs. In other words, a small proportion of your actions, efforts, or time will yield the majority of your desired outcomes.

The principle was first observed by Vilfredo Pareto who noticed that 80% of the land in Italy was owned by 20% of the population. It can be applied across various areas of life, including business, productivity, and personal development.

Time Management & Productivity

Focus on the 20% of tasks that will yield 80% of your results. For instance, you might find that 20% of your daily tasks are responsible for most of your achievements, while the rest are distractions or less impactful.

Example: If you’re writing a blog post, 20% of the content might require 80% of your energy and focus, while the rest could be secondary edits or less critical details.

Business & Sales

Often, 20% of your customers bring in 80% of your revenue. By identifying and nurturing these key clients, you can maximize profits with less effort.

Example: Focus your marketing efforts on the top 20% of products or services that generate the most sales.

Personal Development

20% of the habits, thoughts, or actions you focus on may create 80% of the positive changes in your life.

Example: If you focus on mastering 20% of your most important personal habits, like morning routines or self-reflection, they could have the most significant impact on your success.

Learning & Skill Development

80% of the knowledge you need may come from just 20% of the material you study.

Example: When learning a new skill, focusing on the core principles (the 20%) can provide most of the value, rather than spreading yourself too thin across a broad range of topics.

Applying the 80/20 Rule in Self-Development:

1. Prioritize What Matters Most

Instead of overwhelming yourself with endless tasks or goals, identify the 20% of activities or actions that have the greatest impact on your growth. If you’re building a personal brand, for instance, focus on the 20% of actions (such as consistent networking with key individuals) that will bring in the majority of results.

2. Identify and Eliminate Time-Wasters

Look at where you are spending the most time. Are 80% of your activities not contributing to your goals? Use the 80/20 principle to identify those unproductive habits or distractions and focus more on what truly matters.

3. Set Clear, High-Impact Goals

In your personal or professional development, prioritize goals that will move you forward the fastest. Rather than spreading yourself thin trying to achieve everything, channel your energy into fewer, high-value actions.

4. Focus on Key Relationships

In building a high-value network, it’s often the case that 20% of the people you interact with are responsible for the majority of your opportunities. Focus on nurturing these key relationships that truly add value to your life. Network, network, network. I sold my biggest deal ever the other day because of a friend. Take my word for it.

Join my 3-hour live workshop on Zoom, where we will create a tailored luxe glow-up plan personalized for you for 2025. Seats are limited and are first come, first served. Click here for more info.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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Overtime 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss, Mr. Hansen, runs you ragged but you find solace in an unexpected friend.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Jake Jensen.

Author’s Note: This one is dedicated to my dearest @thezombieprostitute

Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

That day, you take your lunch. It’s been a long one. Again.

It seems that it only gets worse lately. Mr. Hansen is either yelling about some client or his ex-wife or the way the cream cheese on his bagel is spread. For all of them, you have to stand and take the brunt of his frustration.

The sunlight is warm despite a thin sheet of clouds. It’s going to rain, probably just as you get out of work. Typical.

You nibble on your granola bar and stare at the flowers. It’s nice not to be behind a screen. You crinkle the wrapper and take another small bite. You don’t usually get much of a break so you don’t really pack a full lunch. Your stomach grumbles in regret of that fact.

You put your elbows on the picnic table and hunch forward. A breeze rustles through petals and leaves and stirs the scent of pollen. You hear the door to the courtyard but don’t look up. No one talks to you. The one time you tried to sit with Caroline and she fled as quickly as you said hi.

“Hey,” a shadow stops beside the table, “you mind if I sit?”

You look up at Jensen and shrug, “oh, sure.”

You put your head back down, suddenly self-conscious, and you break off a morsel of granola with your fingers before chewing on it. He sits and you feel him watching you. You peek at him as you swallow.

“How’s it going?” He asks.

You wrap up what’s left of the bar and put it in your sweater pocket. “It’s okay. Nothing special. How about you?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s good,” he unwraps his sandwich as he speaks, his hands seemingly too busy for his own good. The smell of the turkey and swiss draws a growl from your stomach. “Been running around trying to get that new inventory software to work. No one around here knows how to read I swear. And someone up in marketing downloaded a bug so lots of damage control, haha.” His eyes round and he presses a hand to the side of his neck. “I’m yapping again.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” He asks.

“No.” At least he’s nice. Not like Mr. Hansen.

“Right, uh... Did I interrupt? Or you just finishing up?” He looks at your pocket pointedly.

“Oh, no, I... the granola’s too sugary. I’ll just have a tea when I get back to my desk,” you explain and look away, following a ladybug with your eyes.

“You don’t got anything else?” He asks.

“Not hungry,” you lie.

“Hm, alright,” he doesn’t sound convinced but doesn’t insist. “Oh, I meant to ask, I saw your wallpaper, not that I’m like snooping or anything, just happened to notice. Ummmm, well, that sounds off, doesn’t it?” He chuckles nervously, “what I mean it, I saw that you like er, The Sims?”

You nod and look at the table. Mr. Hansen never said anything about the desktop background. You supposed he didn’t know what the green diamonds meant. He had enough to say about your dancing kitten.

“I play sometimes,” you say.

“Yeah, me too. Just 4 or any old ones?”

“Erm, I like the medieval one.”

“Really? I thought everyone hated that one,” he says. “I got tired of losing at Elden Ring so I’ve been trying to zen out in Oasis Springs. My wife died though. And the second one. I’ve stopped marrying actually, I might be cursed.”

It sounds absurd to talk about the game out loud. You never had anyone to discuss it with so you never realised. You glance up again then check your watch.

“Sorry,” you frown, “I gotta get back.”

“Oh,” his disappointment lines his forehead, “yeah, sure, sorry if I ate up your time.”

“No, you didn’t,” you stand and sidle out from behind the bench, coming close to him as you step out. The round table is a bit awkward. “See ya.”

“See ya.”

You leave him and the sunlight and go back into the fluorescent-saturated hallways. You don’t rush back even though you should. You just don’t want to be there anymore. Most nights, you can’t fall asleep because you dread waking up. And in the morning, you can hardly drag yourself out of bed.

You get to your desk and wiggle the mouse to wake up your monitor. You open the browser and stare at the little ad in the side panel of the home page. You hover your finger over the button then click down on it.

The new tab opens and put your chin in your hand as you scroll down. The word Sale is pasted all over and the categories are lined up neatly. You click through and peruse the dresses under the ‘Office’ heading.

You don’t have any dresses and you don’t wear any of your skirts. They’re all thrifted or straight out of the bargain bin. You never put much thought into clothing, you just went for adequate, much like the rest of your life.

Still, the echo of Hansen’s words plays over and over. ‘...dress like a granny...’ It’s not the first time he’s commented on your attire and it never really bothered you very much. He insults everyone. It’s just that you’re so tired of being unnoticed, or noticed for all the wrong reasons.

You look at a pretty cherry red wrap dress and check the measurements chart. Your phone vibes and you pick it up. It’s just another marketing email. Annoying. You darken the screen and see yourself in it. Ugh.

You add the dress to your cart. It’s just for you. Maybe it won’t look as good on you as the model but you're tired of the woolly old cardigans and stiff corduroys. Heck, no one will even know the difference. They don’t invite you to the special lunches or to even enjoy a free donut. A new dress won’t change a thing.

#jake jensen #dark jake jensen #dark!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #drabble #au #overtime #the losers #the gray man

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 8 months ago

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Keep Moving Forwards, Part 19

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 1.5K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

It must have been close to one in the morning when you finally left Titania’s. She stood in the doorway of the brothel, wrapping her skinny arms around herself as she waved you off down the cobblestone pathway back into the heart of the city. Your mind raced with memories, trying to piece together what belonged to Titania and what belonged to your mother. You had asked Titania if she had any photographs or paintings of your mother, but she had told you that when your mother left, she requested that all photos and reminders of her life in the city be burned. She feared someone would be looking for them and that keeping them would put everyone at risk. Titania had agreed and burned any photos of both you and your mother, save for one small drawing of you, done during the solstice, that she kept in a locked jewelry box. She had shown it to you, your eyes tracing the lines of your childhood face, and you were struck by how thin you looked. Titania had shared that this drawing had been done at the end of one of the bouts of sickness that had plagued you as a child, during which you had dropped a significant amount of weight. Yet, she had told you, you refused to stay in bed, always jumping out when no one was looking to play with the other children in the street. Titania had offered you the drawing, but after seeing the look of love on her face, you asked her to keep it.

You had invited Titania to come see you at the market the next day. Initially hesitant, giving excuses about needing to be around for clients, she seemed more willing when you mentioned Kai and your desire for her to meet him.

Returning to the inn that night, you crawled into the soft bed across from where Kai’s father slept, curled up against the wall to avoid the draft, and drifted off to sleep.

______________________________________________________

For the first time in weeks, you dreamt, though it wasn’t a nightmare. Your dream unfolded as though you were walking through the streets of Velaris, your vision bobbing up and down with each step, an unknown gait guiding your movements. Musicians played haunting melodies that echoed through the night, and the lingering scent of pastries from earlier in the evening wafted through the air. You felt the winter night’s cold bite at the back of your neck, sharp and unsettling.

It seemed as though you were searching for someone or something, your gaze shifting back and forth, panning through the crowd. The people around you appeared much shorter, their faces blurred and indistinct. Wandering along the cobblestone wall of the Sidra, the same place where you and Kai had stood earlier when Sylvan approached, you felt an inexplicable warmth in your hands as you slid them into your pockets.

You paused, turning to look out at the river. The moonlight glinted off the water, casting an eerie glow as snow fell softly around you. It was peculiar, as though you were reliving the evening, but this time, Kai wasn’t with you. A sense of unease settled over you, the kind that prickled at the edges of your consciousness without revealing its source.

Nothing particularly exciting happened; you simply wandered through the crowd, seemingly searching for something or someone elusive. As you made your way through the streets, you passed the inn where you were staying. Looking up, you seemed to stare directly at the window of your room, a chill running down your spine. The scene was familiar yet distorted, and an inexplicable sense of dread began to creep in, leaving you with the unsettling feeling that something was watching you, just out of sight.

______________________________________________________

With a jolt, you opened your eyes to the sound of the room door shutting softly. You shifted to look up, seeing Kai at the foot of the bed, unlacing his boots, leaning slightly too far forwards and having to catch himself on the footboard. He smiled at you. “Hi,” he whispered, his voice a warm, soft note in the quiet room.

You sent him a soft smile back, laying your head back down onto the pillow. You listened as Kai stripped off some of his clothes, throwing them over the back of the armchair with a thudding flop. His father didn’t even stir in his sleep as Kai pulled back the sheets of the bed. The cold draft hit you before Kai settled in, his strong, thin frame curling around yours, his knees finding their place behind yours. You lifted your head slightly to allow his arm to rest beneath it as he leaned in and took a deep breath of your scent, letting out a satisfied sigh. You turned your head to look at him. Kai gave you a sleepy smile, and you flipped entirely to face him. His eyes were shut, but you looked at his serene face, pulling your hands to your chest. Kai wrapped a long arm around your shoulders, your leg resting on his thigh.

“Have a nice time?” you whispered.

“Mm,” Kai responded in agreement, his eyebrows raising slightly.

“Tired?”

“Mhm,” Kai groaned. As he let out a sigh, you smelled the potent waft of mulled wine on his breath and smiled lightly.

“Drunk?” you asked.

Kai opened one eye and peered down at you, a mischievous glint in his gaze. “No?” He asked more than told you.

You giggled slightly. “I can smell it on your breath.”

Kai closed his eye again and nuzzled his chin to the crown of your head. “Your nose is playing tricks on you. I am entirely in my right mind.”

You pressed your nose to his chest. “You sure about that?”

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.”

“Really?” you asked incredulously.

“How dare you question me and my faculties,” he joked, his voice laced with exhaustion and mock indignation.

You giggled again. “So taking off your pants but leaving your coat on in bed is just a fashion choice?”

Kai shifted slightly, looking down at his torso, which was indeed still encased in his jacket. You pulled back, trying to rein in your smile and laugh, which came out as a snort instead.

Kai looked at you, his gaze a little glazed over with alcohol. He slurred slightly, “It’s because I’m cold.” He sat up and began unzipping it. “And now, I’m taking it off because I’m too warm. Not because I didn’t mean to keep it on.”

You nodded, another snort escaping your nose. “Sure, Kai.”

Once he had undone his jacket, he whipped it off his body and onto the floor, laying back down on his side and reaching out to you, his hands grabbing into the air with no purpose. “Come here. Warm me up,” he begged, his voice taking on a pitiful tone.

“Just put your coat back on,” you joked.

Kai feigned a dramatic frown, wrapping his arms around his body and pretending to shiver, making you roll your eyes as you lay back down next to him. He let out a murmur of happiness, his chest vibrating against your own as he cuddled closer. “I’m freezing,” he mumbled.

“You’re ridiculous,” you replied, trying to suppress a laugh.

He nestled his face into your neck, his breath warm and ticklish against your skin. “Ridiculously cold,” he agreed, his tone playful.

You raised your head to look at him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You know, you’re not very convincing.”

Kai’s voice was edged with amusement “I convinced you to keep me around.”

“I can change my mind at any time,” you teased, but your smile gave you away.

Kai tightened his embrace, his voice dropping to a tender whisper. “I know, but you like me too much to do that.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I know.”

He grinned, his eyes fluttering shut. “Good. Now let’s get some sleep. I need to be well-rested to survive the freezing landscape of the city tomorrow.”

You chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the temperature. “Goodnight, Kai.”

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice already fading into the soft rhythm of sleep.

You considered telling him about Titania, your mother, and all the history you had uncovered while he was out with friends, but as you opened your mouth to speak, you heard his soft snores and just smiled. It could wait.

Kai was always like this—protective and caring, even in his most inebriated state. His warmth enveloped you, and despite the cold draft from the window, you felt an undeniable sense of comfort and safety. You felt his steady breathing against your back, and his arm tightened around you slightly, as if even in his sleep, he wanted to ensure you were safe and close.

For the first time in a long while, you felt a semblance of peace. The world outside was filled with uncertainties and pain, but here, in Kai’s arms, you found a small refuge. You allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, the knot in your stomach untying itself with each passing moment.

Tomorrow, you will face everything again—Titania, your mother’s memories, and the painful revelations. But tonight, in the warmth of Kai’s presence, you let yourself rest.

To the readers, I'm screaming, crying, throwing up at what's coming.

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @rhysandorian

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y-rhywbeth2 · 9 months ago

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Hey kids, want to learn about drugs in Toril?

(OK, so some of them actually have medicinal properties, if your character happens to have medical knowledge in their background.)

Local laws usually have restrictions regarding drugs. As ever, Waterdeep sets the standards for trading cities that want to market themselves as tolerant: the production and selling of drugs outside of medicine is fully illegal in the city, though it's not a crime to be found personally taking drugs. It is not technically a crime to be found in possession of drugs, however that only really applies to nobles, wealthy merchants and others of similar rank. Lower ranks will be assumed to be carrying the drugs with intent to sell, and be arrested unless they can provide evidence of their employment by a Guild of Apothecaries & Physicians, clergy or similar legitimate medical employment.

Drugs that can have fatal side effects may be treated as poisons, which can get you arrested and charged with "murder with justification" if law enforcement and/or the courts do desire. (You don't have to have actually killed anyone, tried to, or shown any inclination whatsoever for this).

The illegal drug trade works a lot as it does in reality, although unlike in reality they also have magic so portals, illusions and other "cheats" are pretty common. The grunt work of trafficking and selling is done by the lower ranking, more disposable members. Often the "runners" who deliver the contraband to the client are young children.

In Baldur's Gate I'd assume most of the drug trade and production occurs in the Undercellar and the Outer City.

Many substances are magical in nature and their effects can be unusual. Some came with more information than others.

Tekkil Painkiller. Ingested. Typically used by people dealing with severe chronic pain, taken by chewing leaves that release a milky substance. As well as its analgesic properties, tekkil causes lethargy which can render imbibers insensate in an overdose. Some people use it to completely numb their senses and escape reality, and the drug is moderately addictive.

Alindluth Painkiller, ingested. "Deadens all pain and prevents shock and nausea for a few minutes. No known side effects [but may cause comas in higher doses]"

Haunspeir Stimulant. Paste. Sometimes dried into pill form. Carrying a low risk of addiction it's usually used by wizards, students and such looking for a study boost, though it does cause physical harm to the body while it's in the system and seems to thin the skin, causing more damage when something breaks through (try not to get a papercut).

Tansabra Anaesthetic. Intravenous. A form of venom that places mammalian bodies into magical stasis, keeping their body temperature, oxygen levels and so forth stable as the subject's metabolic processes literally stop: blood flow and breathing ceases. (The text does not tell me what provides the venom.)

Kammarth Beige powder or jelly. An addictive and potent magical stimulant combining Underdark fungi and a rare forest root. Users start bouncing off the walls with endless energy and gain a boost to their speed and reaction times. Overdose will overload the nervous system and cause paralysis and physical damage.

Sezarad Root Ingestion. Chewing the root boosts health, healing and vitality, though it also causes minor confusion as a side effect. It carries a low risk of addiction.

"Battlewine" Or Rhul. A spicy red fluid with a bitter aftertaste. It's basically an anabolic steroid, misused it boosts muscle growth and physical performance but causes aggression. It's also addictive.

Vornduir Powder. Inhaled. Causes the user to feel warm and prevents them from registering cold. It prevents shivering and loss of mobility, however the drug does not actually raise body temperature and won't prevent hypothermia or frostbite. It also has a host of effects that occur totally randomly by individual. In some people it causes alertness and euphoria that lasts for days (during which they can't sleep). Some are totally unaffected, and some have allergic reactions. In some it causes the pain and pleasure response to temporarily switch (stabbing them with a knife would be ecstasy; a normally welcome caress is distressing). On some people it even acts as an antidote to some poisons.

Chaunsel Dermal absorption. Rubbing the drug into your skin causes it to become extremely sensitive to tactile stimuli. While I imagine it has some very predictable uses not mentioned in the text, in practical day-to-day adventuring thieves and other criminals apply it to their finger tips when working in darkness to heighten their awareness of what they're doing with their hands (if they don't have dark vision, anyway). Overdosing causes days of numbness.

"Thrallwine" Ingested. An herbal red wine, more fancifully known as Jhuild, often used by slavers: the imbiber becomes fearful and confused, and their thoughts are sluggish, making them easy to manipulate and control. It also has a steroidal effect, boosting physical strength for a time. It's not addictive.

Katakuda Brown paste. Dermal absorption. Imported from Kara-Tur (Kozakura, specifically, I think). It's traditionally used by a monastic order, and causes the skin to harden when applied, making it harder to damage and less sensitive to pain. If overused it will cause nerve damage, inflicting wracking pain and spasms.

"Dreammist" Inhaled. Properly called mordayn vapor, it's used by brewing a tea using ground leaves and inhaling the vapours. The drug is too potent to be ingested, and consuming the powder or drinking the tea will kill you. Induces visions of incredible beauty that enrapture the user and make reality unbearable in comparison. The drug is extremely addictive and slowly destroys both the mind and body (causing Wisdom and Constitution damage, respectively).

"Bloodfast" Tablet. Ingested A drug created by the drow - known as ziran, in dark elven - the drug causes confusion in mild doses and disassociation and out-of-body experiences in higher doses. It's extremely addictive.

#I think I spotted the Torilian equivalent to Ritalin and co.#lore stuff #edgelord hours

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merv606 · 20 days ago

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AU where Daniel is an escort and billionaire Mr. Silver’s date for one night. Daniel is flattered to be requested by him, and is pleased that he’ll be paid nicely for his company. He doesn’t expect anything more after the night despite catching feelings for the man, but Mr. Silver has other plans and doesn’t want to let him go…

Maybe NINY era Daniel and CK Terry, but if that’s too much maybe Black Friday Terry instead or whatever haha.

😎

It was his first day on the job - in that it’s his first real client. The last few weeks have been nothing but training that turned out to be way more intense than Daniel thought, given the job itself.

But once he thought about it, it made sense.

Knowing they catered to higher clientele - and that most escorts would be for appearances only - dates to galas and other important functions where appearances were everything, especially the thin veneer of civility these men who paid for such services maintained. So their manners needed to be impeccable, and their ability to navigate the minefield of social politics.

While some escorts offered sexual services - Daniel didn’t think he was ready for that - if ever - even if that was where the real money was - considering some of the stories he’s already heard.

The older ones tsk, hoping he’ll change his mind.

“Face like that, you’d be turning down marriage proposals, villas in Spain, private jets, and god knows what else.”

Daniel isn’t too sure about that though.

He’s not even fit, like most of the other escorts. Still too slender, limbs too long and thin, and hips too sharp.

“Oh there’s a huge market for that darling, trust us.”

Maybe he does have a lot to learn.

A twink, he’s heard them call him, but he’s too new to this to know what it means, and truth be told, he’s afraid to ask.

But for his first client to be THE Terry Silver?!

Daniel may not know who he is, but every other escort does.

“He never uses these things.”

“Not like a man like that is hurting for company,” one remarks.

“What did they tell you?” another one asks.

“He’s in New York for the weekend and a last minute gala had been sprung on him.”

“I heard that as soon as he saw your picture he didn’t look at anyone else. Just said that it didn’t matter if you were already booked - he’d pay triple,” another says, eyeing Daniel with jealousy and admiration, even if jealousy was winning.

Jesus Daniel thinks, he only left the meeting himself less than ten minutes ago. How does word travel this fast.

“He knows you don’t sleep with the clients, right?” One scoffs.

“He does,” Daniel answers. He thinks he might be the only one actually.

He thinks back to the meeting, and what was implied though.

“Your contract for the night is already drawn up. Read it over and if you’re satisfied, sign there.”

He does. The way they speak of Terry Silver, he doesn’t think he could do anything else.

“A car will be at your place at 7 sharp - be ready.”

Daniel nods, slightly overwhelmed.

“His tailor will be here shortly to measure you for a suit.”

Daniel opens his mouth.

“All on Silver’s dime.”

Extremely overwhelmed.

“In addition to your fee there is also a bonus built in for your behaviour for the night. I strongly suggest to impress him.”

——————-

The car isn’t a car at all, rather a ridiculously long limo, but it arrives at 7, as promised, and the door is opened for him.

He finally meets Terry, face to face, and if he thought he was handsome from the few grainy photos he had found on the web, they are nothing compared to the result thing.

He has only maybe 10 or 12 years on Daniel, but is greying already. It doesn’t detract from his looks, rather adds to them.

Daniel wishes he had styled his own hair better, and maybe sprung for a hair cut, aware now of how floppy it looks.

Terry offers him champagne and he takes it, forcing himself to sip it and not down it in one go like his nerves are screaming at him to do.

They make small talk, and even if the limo is spacious, it still feels small somehow.

Terry though is amenable, and is great at conversation, and is proving to be everything Daniel wasn’t expecting, setting down nerves at ease.

They arrive quicker than he was expecting, but Terry instructs the driver to give them a few moments.

He reaches out, fixing Daniel’s bow tie, the same blood red shade as Terry’s own tie.

“There we go. Now you’re perfect.” Terry tucks a lock of hair behind Daniel’s ear. “Now, just breathe.”

The door is opened and Terry steps out first, turning and bending slightly to offer his hand to help Daniel out.

The lightbulbs flash as they walk the red carpet inside, his arm tucked under Terry’s with the older man’s hand on top of his.

They have to pose for a few. Some together and some with just Terry, Daniel standing to the side.

He swears he’ll be seeing flashing lights behind his eyes when he blinks for the rest of the night.

Terry stops again once inside, waiting for the auras of flashing lights he knows are dancing behind Daniel’s eyelids to stop - even offering some tips to help.

That’s not the weird part though, even if the cameras and shouting for his attention were jarring.

It’s actually the constant looks his way that throw him, as Terry begins guiding them again, further inside, now that Daniel can see properly again.

“Everyone is looking at you,” Daniel whispers, noticing how unbothered Terry is with it all. He must be used to it, Daniel thinks. He can’t imagine ever being used to this though.

“Oh, it’s not me they’re looking at,” Terry answers, bemused at the boy’s naivety. They’ll be the talk of the town by night’s end, if not already.

They sit, Terry pulling out Daniel’s chair before taking his own.

The conversation flows easily between them, lien it did in the limo, and when the first dish is served, Terry watches amused as Daniel clearly panics, his hand hovering over several of the utensils.

“I am sorry, I …” he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He was top marks in etiquette class - one of the reasons he was selected - besides the fact he fit the description Terry wanted to a near tee.

“It’s that one first,” Terry points out, “then work your way outwards.”

Relief floods through Daniel, grateful that Terry is everything he wasn’t expecting. For his patience with Daniel’s ignorance especially when he should know better, and when he thanks the older man, Terry’s hand lands on his upper thigh, rubbing softly before squeezing in a reassuring manner.

He doesn’t take it off.

“I’m forgetting everything it seems. Nervous,” he adds.

“You need not be. You’re doing wonderful.”

“I don’t want to make you look bad.”

“Never,” Terry reassures.

It seems that everyone here knows each other in some way, even if it is superficial - something that is the norm in these circles - so Daniel was told by his fellow escorts.

So Daniel stands and listens, following the parts he can, smiling and laughing when appropriate, and speaking when addressed.

As it were, some of his coworkers are here tonight, however, unlike them, he is so new to this that no one recognizes him as an elite escort, his face not familiar like his longer tenured coworkers

As such, Terry introduces Daniel as his personal assistant - new to the job. “Good practice. He’ll need to be used to this if he continues on,” Terry had said charmingly, although some of the women know better. They may not suspect escort, but they know, from their own experience, even if he is Terry’s PA that his duties tonight will be more than professional.

A woman, dripping in diamonds, especially the one on her left hand, turns to Daniel, a blinding white tooth smile, as she knowingly whispers, “I was this one’s personal assistant too,” she winks, inclining her head to a much, much older man sitting next to her, obviously her husband.

He sits, speaking when spoken to, letting Terry control the conversation, the narrative he’s created; control it all.

Terry seems a man who is used to control; relishes in it.

When they finally finish dining, they spend the time mostly by themselves, Daniel noticing that if someone tries to chat them up that Terry makes perfect conversation, but always ends it as soon as he politely do so before leading them away, a hand on the small of his back.

The one moment Terry’s attention is diverted from Daniel, another man suddenly swoops in, handing him a glass of champagne, taking the barely sipped one from Daniel’s hand.

Luckily his rescue doesn’t take long but, the other man, clearly having had a bit too much, tries to keep Daniel from leaving, a hard grip on his wrist, and Daniel ends up spilling his champagne down the front of Terry’s shirt.

Daniel stammers out apologies, dragging the older man into the bathroom, his intent to clean up his mess.

Dabbing a wet cloth down it, Daniel frowns. This isn’t working,

“Maybe if you take it off I can ….”

“If you wanted to get me out of my shirt all you had to do was ask,” Terry responds breezily, grasping Daniel’s hand in his, giving it a quick kiss.

Daniel can feel the blush hot on his cheeks and the smirk on Terry’s face lets him know it must also be very visible.

“I mean to clean it,” he says, weakly, and his voice is anything but even, so aware of the how close the older man is, the scent of him, the sheer size of him, how good it feels to have his hand still on the larger one.

“Oh this ruined,” Terry confirms.

“How much was it?”

Terry waves his hand. “Certainly nothing for you to worry your pretty head about. It wasn’t your fault.”

Daniel is not sure what to say in the face of that - in the face of it all. Even if it was Terry who moved startlingly fast to break the hold the man had on Daniel’s wrist, causing the spill in the first place.

“We will have to cut our time here short, however.”

Daniel is technically on the clock for several more hours, but he won’t hold Terry to them. After all, he can’t blame Terry for wanting to cut it short - this has been a disaster.

Something must show on his face, because Terry looks up from where he had been dabbing his shirt.

“It’s fine. I’ve been wanting to leave for hours now, but haven’t been able to politely do so, and this is the perfect opportunity. I should be thanking you.”

“Of course. I can see myself home …”

“You misunderstand. We can continue our night elsewhere,” Terry cuts him of, smiling.

“You shouldn’t feel the need to …”

“I still have you for a few more hours, do I not?”

“Of course. I just thought ….” A hand on the back of his neck now as he rubs himself nervously almost.

“Nonsense. I’ve enjoyed myself immensely tonight. You are excellent company. Do not think this night as anything but the glowing success it was.”

They end up back at Terry’s penthouse, a place he keeps in the city as he prefers to stay anywhere but hotels unless necessary, and often finds himself in New York for various business.

More drinks are shared between them, and conversation.

“I prefer this, truth be told. Now I have you all to myself,” Terry says as he takes the empty flute, laying it down, his eyes burning down into Daniel’s.

“I …. my contact isn’t for that,” and they both hear the disappointment in his voice, a plump lower lip captured and worried between his teeth.

“Well, once you’re officially off the clock your time is yours to do with what you wish is it not?!”

“It is.”

“I would ask you second if here with me, if you wish. Let me make love to you,” a hand on the side of Daniel’s face, felling the nod he gives, his words failing him.

They stand, Daniel in his arms, both men looking down at the wrist watch, the seconds ticking down - a sort of game of anticipation.

“Officially off the clock now ….” The rest of what Daniel was going to say swallowed by the older man’s mouth on his and it’s all he can do to keep up.

On his tip toes, arms around his neck, large hands on his ass urging him up until he’s lifted up, wrapping his legs around the older man’s waist.

His back hits the wall, and he’s not sure which is more of the unmovable force, the wall of the hard body trapping him to it.

“Have you been with a man before?” Terry asks, thumbs tracing and pulling down his bottom lip, slipping into his mouth as Daniel sucks on it.

“Yes,” Daniel answers, pulling off with an audible pop, and then feels the need to add the actual number: two. There was Jake, in college, a few drunken rumblings, and then some random in bar one night, just to help him sort his own confused feelings.

“Did you let any of them inside you?!!”

He nods, sucking the thumb back in his mouth as he does, unable to help himself, watching as Terry’s eyes go black.

“How many times sweetheart?”

“Just a few,” he stutters as Terry’s hand grips his ass.

“And you liked it?!”

He can hear Terry unzip his own fly, and Daniel’s eyes drop down, widening.

He liked the pleasure of the act well enough, but the discomfort, and the pain that accompanied it not so much.

And Terry is, in fact, proportional.

The largest Daniel has ever even seen. In reality and in any other form.

“Want you to put that pretty mouth of yours to work first,” he says stroking his cock and Daniel drops to his knees, rubbing his face again the man’s upper thigh, before swallowing him down without any preamble.

“Fuck,” Daniel hears before feeling fingers tangle in his hair.

Head bobbing up and down, mouth pulling off enough to suck at the head, hand wrapped around the thick cock, solid and hard, wet with his own saliva.

Terry pulls him off, his cock dragging out, ropes of precum connecting them, fucking in and out a few times before pulling out for good.

“But,” Daniel stammers, confused, worried it wasn’t pleasing to the older man. D ahem finds he wants nothing more than to please the older man.

“Not your mouth I want to come in, sweetheart,” and Daniel’s asss clenches at the roughness of his voice, at the knowledge of what it about to come; what he is about to be made to take.

He finds himself on his back on a large bed, the older man’s body eclipsing him, pressing him down.

They kiss, their cocks rubbing, Daniel spreading his legs, knees in either side of the older man, before his warmth leaves.

“Hands and knees for me.”

Not a request, and not a demand, but something that they both know he’ll obey.

Terry is fisting himself as he says it, Daniel throwing a loon over his shoulder once he’s in the desired position.

Cheeks spread next, and god he hopes Terry isn’t going to just push in, but then a tongue licks over his hole and he shouts, “oh fuck,” biting the sheets, indents of his teeth when he finally lets up.

“You like this too?!” Another lick, and Daniel whimpers, pushing back; he can’t help it. “My mouth in your gorgeous ass.”

And oh, no one has ever done that to him before. He didn’t even know that it was a thing but he is glad to know it now.

He may sob this out, he’s not sure, but Terry pauses, taking in how wrecked the boy is already, considering. “I find it hard to believe no one has wanted a taste of this gorgeous hole before, sweetheart.”

“No, no one has ever … “ but then Terry is burying his face in his ass, eating him out proper.

Humping back, but trying to get away all the same, overwhelmed, Terry grabs his thighs to keep him in place and Daniel braces himself against the bed, his arms flat to the mattress, his ass high in the air for the older man. It’s all he can do really, to just hang on - a thing for the older man to use. It feels like his body is something new to him, not aware of how it could feel until now - being played by the older man like a master playing their instrument - like he’s been playing Daniel for years which, it certainty feels like it.

“Going to come,” he gasps out, which seems to only encourage Terry.

He shoots onto the bed below him, not even a hand on his cock.

“Sorry,” he says, embarrassed at how quickly he came, and Terry laughs out, “don’t be. It won’t the the only one I get out of you tonight.”

“But, I already came,” he stammers out, and although he can come more than once in a night, he still needs some time to gather himself.

Terry chuckles.

“This is why you need a man, sweetheart - to show you these things.”

“On your back now, legs open for me.”

A hand on his hip, guiding him, as Terry tells him, “I want to see your face when I take you for the first time.”

He moans, can’t help it.

“That’s it, hold them like this.” He places Daniel’s hands along the backs of his own thighs. “Now pull them back to your chest … perfect.”

He feels exposed, he is exposed, his hole on display for the older man.

“Keep them like that, nice and wide for me.”

The sound of a cap of lube, Terry rubbing his fingers together to warm it before Bering then to his hole. “Gorgeous,” he remarks, tracing the rim until the flesh softens and yikes a before dipping the tip inside, the pressure unrelenting, until it’s inside him up to the first then second knuckle.

It doesn’t take long for him to become comfortable enough with one, hips pressing into the fingers, for Terry to add another, and another and then another.

Four fingers fucking in and he would have protested by now, but he remembers the size of Terry’s cock, the sheer size and how it has felt in his mouth and hand.

The head of said cock, teasing the lube slick hole now, which he spits on, even if it’s not really needed.

“Condom,” he asks.

“I’m clean. As are you.”

The escort service is very high end with regular testing, especially at the client’s request.

He’s never done it bare, saying as such and Terry’s eyes go black at the knowledge. “Never had a man come deep inside you?”

“No,” he whimpers, hands bunching the sheets between his fingers as the head of his cock breeches him.

“You’re going to like it,” he groans, not stopping, but going slow enough for his body to try and adjust to the sheer girth of the cock as it opens him up.

“Relax. There we go. Let me in,” he rumbles, hand on Daniel’s stomach.

“Fuck you’re tight,” he grits ….

“You’re so big,” he responds and Terry chuckles.

“Relax for me baby …. Let me in …. There you go … doing so good.”

Oddly, it doesn’t hurt as much as it did in the past.

Besides the initial pain of the penetration, his hole stretching what he thought would be impossibly wide to let the older man inside, while bright, was quick, discomfort in it’s wake as he gets used to the older man indie him, but it quickly seems like just a memory as Terry’s cock hits his prostate, pleasure burning in it’s wake.

He cries out, ass clenching on the cock, hands grasping the sheets in fists now.

“There we go,” Terry smirks, “found it.”

Terry rubs over his fist, until it relaxes enough to lace their fingers together.

“So fucking tight,” he growls, “like I knew you would be. God your ass feels so good.”

“Your,” he gasps as Terry begins to rock into him, fucking him. “Your cock feels good. Fuck, how is it so big.”

It’s a pure porno line and should sound cheesy - ridiculous - but there is a sincerity there even in the way he moans it out. How he circles his hips and the wet sound as his ass opens for energy inch as it slides in and out, how his legs fall open even wider - showing Teddy how much he really likes that.

Terry laughs, “my little size queen,” licking into his mouth messily.

Daniel believes him.

He can feel it in his throat.

“You’ll be ruined for anyone else. No one else will be able to fill this ass like you need now,” he slams his hand over his wrist, large hand wrapped around it ridiculously easy, as is the ease at which he holds it to the mattress. Daniel wouldn’t be able to break the hold even if he tries

Daniel flexes, just to see and it tightens, and that does something to him he can’t quite describe but god he’s never been more turned on.

“Daddy knows best baby boy,” and oh that is new. Daniel arches up, sudden and violent, his release shooting out and hitting Terry’s chest, his ass griping the cock so tight Terry stops thrusting, only shoving back inside once he loosens up, spilling himself inside moments later.

Pulling out, the wet noise his ass makes - full of lube and the older man’s spit and cum.

Despite the ache in his ass - a feel he can’t exactly say is unpleasant. It just reminds him of how well used he was - how good he was for Terry, and later on Terry takes him again, face down ass up this time, even having Daniel ride him come the morning light. Although, if he’s being honest, is not him bouncing on it like he imagined, but more him sobbing and struggling to take him in that position, the cock so deep, and twice as large he swears, his legs spread so wide on either side as he sinks down. That seems to do it for Terry though, who helps him fuck himself on it, large hands on a narrow waist, fingers leaving greedy bruises, praising him for doing so good. “know it’s a lot to take baby, especially like this, and your ass is so tight even after I’ve had it.”

Large hands on narrow hips helping him lift up and down, the punched out little gasps every time Terry bottoms out, each time his cock brushed the swollen prostate inside him, until he’s telling Daniel to rock back and fourth.

Teaching him how to ride his cock.

A long soak in the obnoxiously big tub, overlooking the New York skyline as night falls is next.

By the time Terry has had his fill, Daniel is more glad than ever that he has the next few days off, even if this proves to not be a thing because Terry ends up occupying those days. Terry quickly ensures there is no time in which they will not be apart.

It’s all off the book - it’s his weekend after off - but he quickly agrees.

One of the older ones who took Daniel under his wing tried to advise against it.

“He’s trying to get your services without paying for it”

Besides the fact Terry doesn’t strike him as such a man - he is liberal with his money when they go out - paying for everything - Daniel sees a side of New York he never did before - could never afford to - and he tries to commit it to memory - knowing he’ll never see it again.

So he can’t say he feels used, even if he has also happily spread his legs for the older man multiple times throughout the weekend, and his mouth, blowing Terry on several occasions.

It is, hands down, the best sex Daniel has ever had.

Terry then officially pays for the following week of Daniel’s time, extending his own stay in NY to accommodate it.

Daniel can’t say he is anything but distraught when the time comes for Terry to have to leave, although it doesn’t last long, Terry explains that while he is returning to LA out of necessity, he will be back to NY on the weekend, if not earlier, whisking him away to the penthouse suite when he does.

Having him against the floor to ceiling glass window the second the door is closed behind him. He has already told Daniel to have his ass ready for when he arrived.

“Who wouldn’t give you the world?” Moving his hair to the side, kissing his neck, their eyes meeting the glass’s reflection.

“It’s too bad you have to go,” Daniel laments as they lie on the bed now in the afterglow, Daniel on his back staring at the ceiling as Terry smokes his cigar - something he likes to do after sexTerry’s come slowly making it’s way out of him - the older man pathologically obsessed with marking Daniel in that way.

“What if I didn’t?” Terry questions.

“What?” Daniel turns his head to look at the older man.

“Or more likely, you coming with me?” He says, blowing smoke out.

Rolling to his side now, he just stares at the older man, and he’s pretty sure his mouth is open.

Terry laughs. “Now did you really think I was leaving you here?”

Daniel is honestly at a loss at what to say.

“I went home to arrange a few things for your arrival is all.”

“But,” he starts, head spinning. He was not expecting the conversation to take this turn.

“I’m not leaving you here,”is all Terry says, matter of fact - end of argument, even if there was one (Daniel’s not sure) - case closed.

“My life is here.”

“Your life is with me now,” Terry answers, with no real arrogance - no, just the air of a man used to getting his own way.

It can’t be that easy, he thinks.

“Daniel, you told me yourself, you have no family here, no friends.”

This is true, and it’s not like he’s made any headway with the acting. He took the escort job to save up money for acting classes, to both improve and set up some connections.

“You also have no job.” Terry adds.

He bought the business, and Daniel certainly won’t be rented out, ensuring no other man or woman could have him was the point, and if any escort business knows what’s good for them they would not take him on a should be try to find other employment. Although Terry isn’t betting on that. What he has to offer if much better after all.

“The thought of any other man touching you …” Terry trails off,

He should be mad, he should, but, it’s not like he even wanted the job. That Terry got him first, he considers himself endlessly lucky.

Still.

“This can’t last,” Daniel starts.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

There has been no one, so far, that has kept Terrys attention the way Daniel has. No one he even considered giving him name to, expect now.

“For each month we are together a payout of $100,000 that, should we break up, would be payable to you.”

“I’m not a whore,” he says quietly, but there’s no real heat. Every time he has slept with Terry, he’s made a point that it be in his time.

“Certainly not, and neither are wives. That’s just a standard prenup in our circles.”

“Oh,” he says.

“You told me film school is what you were hoping to achieve. That you wanted to save enough money from working.” A short lived career thanks to Terry.

“It still is,” he agrees.

“So you can go. Here or California. It doesn’t really matter. I prefer California’s weather but I can work from anywhere really. I don’t mind a few years in New York, if it’s needed. A Change of scenery, if you’re that scenery,” Terry says.

Daniel thinks the same thing applies. He won’t mind a change, so long as that change is Terry.

#ask #I got an ask 🤩#cobra kai #daniel larusso #karate kid #terry silver #silverusso #silverrusso

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