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freedomfireflies · 1 year ago

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Five to Go Live*

Summary: The fifth and final part to One for the Money*

Mr. Styles, your boss (and the CEO of the company you work for), offers to help you expand your OnlyFans business.

But maybe you want more.

And maybe he does, too.

Word Count: 11.5k (I have no idea what happened tbh)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Good morning, Mr. Styles.”

The tense frame of the man pacing in front of the window stills when he hears your greeting.

You’re five minutes early, coffee in hand, ready to begin your workday.

However, he doesn’t turn around as you enter his office. But the slight glimpse of his profile lets you know he’s acutely aware of your presence.

He stays by his desk, offering nothing more than his silence as you set down his drink and move for the couch.

“Good morning,” is his brisk greeting. It’s not any warmer or colder than usual. It’s just him. “Do you have the reports I asked for?”

“Right here.” You drop them onto the coffee table. “Ready for your meeting this afternoon.”

“Good.” He stares out at the city, unwilling to look you in the eye. “And you’ve confirmed with Nadia?”

“Yes. She’s calling for a driver as we speak.”

He nods once, fingers flexing beside his thighs before he finally ventures a glance over his shoulder. “And I suppose you’d like to talk to me about the other day.”

You flip open the laptop and pull up your email, eyebrow raised. “The other day?”

He turns to you, and you feel his heated stare. “I believe I owe you an explanation.”

“Not really,” you respond, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “You agreed to help me with the video, and you did. I didn’t expect you to stay, Sir.”

Your peripheral catches his slight frown. “You didn’t?”

“No.” You open his schedule and begin jotting down a few notes from Nadia’s email. “You’re not exactly the cuddling type. Probably would have been weirder if you had stayed.”

His hands disappear into his pockets as he regards you. “I never meant to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” Another shrug. “I knew what I agreed to, and now we’re done. No harm, no foul.”

The frown deepens. “Still, I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that—”

“Mr. Styles,” you interrupt, turning to face him, “I wasn’t under the illusion that things would change just because we fucked. I didn’t need aftercare, I didn’t need your words of affirmation, and I didn’t need you to stay.”

Something unrecognizable passes over his features.

You lean forward. “We’re good, Sir.”

The office goes quiet. You know him well enough by now to know what it looks like when he’s biting back a response.

And you imagine there are quite a few things he’d like to berate you for, but instead, he merely clamps his jaw shut and nods.

“All right.” He returns to his desk and takes a seat. “Let’s begin.”

The rest of the workweek carries on like usual. Things return to normal. Or at least to the way they were before he admitted to knowing about your outside activities.

And you find that you’re grateful for that. It’s much easier to only imagine him as your boss instead of your…business partner.

What happened that afternoon in the hotel room was great. Fantastic, even. But it was only ever an act of generosity. A favor, more like. He helped you exactly the way he said he would and now it’s over.

You won’t ever have to think about him like that again.

So…you don’t.

At least, you try not to. But it proves quite difficult.

After deciding against posting the whole video for your channel, and instead only uploading the part where he comes on your tits, it becomes harder to ignore what you two have done.

After all, the response is overwhelming. Positive, excited, and extremely lucrative. Most of the requests are for more of the mysterious man they’ve come to know, and you try not to feel disappointed when you realize there won’t be any more guest appearances.

You wonder if he’s watched it. Wonder if he remembers that day the way you do.

Sometimes you slip up, and you watch the beginning just to hear him talk to you. You watch the way you undress him. Watch the way he kisses you. Watch the way he drives himself inside of you and begs you to come for him.

But then it hits you. Like a fucking freight train. It won’t ever happen again, and lingering on the one time it did isn’t healthy.

So, you turn it off, and attempt to resume life as normal.

You reach out to Max to apologize yet again for what happened, and he’s incredibly understanding. He asks if you’d like to meet for drinks and go over another scene for the future.

And you agree because you will do anything to put Mr. Styles in your rearview mirror.

You don’t mention the meeting to your boss. You figure it won’t do any good, and even if he disapproved, it’s not like he would tell you.

This is your game now. Not his.

So, with a new lease on life, you head for the bar to meet with Max, eager to find out what he has in store.

He’s happy to see you. Pulling out your chair and refusing any attempts at apologies that you offer.

Which you’re more than appreciative of, although you can’t help feeling a bit guilty that he didn’t get the content he’d been wanting.

“Seriously, don’t even worry about it,” he repeats for the third time since you sat down. “Honestly. I get it, once other people get involved, it gets complicated.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, sheepishly glancing down at your lap. “But still. He shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have let him run you out like that.”

He smiles. “It’s fine. Listen, your boyfriend has nothing to worry about. Really. And we can proceed however you feel is best—”

“Oh, no, he’s…he’s not my boyfriend,” you interject, head shaking quickly. “No, he was just…nobody. He’s nobody. Anymore.”

Max studies you for a moment, seemingly curious at your insistence. “Oh? Does…he know that?”

You swallow thickly and take hold of your glass. “Yeah. He does.”

A beat before he nods.

“All right.” Max takes a swig himself. “As long as you’re sure this is something you want.”

You nod but can’t help finding yourself hesitating. “Yeah, it’s…yeah. Of course.”

His expression softens. “Boyfriend or not, he still has a hold over you, doesn’t he?”

And you grimace because you hate the way it sounds. Hate how obvious it must be to everyone else. Hate that it’s even a thing at all.

“No, he just…he’s infuriating,” you argue. “I mean, you were there. You saw what he’s like.”

“I was and I did,” he agrees with a smirk. “Infuriating is the nicer way to put it.”

“He’s a dick,” you correct, making you both smile. “But I trusted him. And I trusted his judgment. And him being so…blunt is sometimes a good thing. Because there’s no room for overthinking or questioning what he really wants. He tells you. Exactly how he feels, exactly how he feels it.”

Max nods thoughtfully, urging you to continue.

“And yet there are so many things I feel like he’s keeping from me,” you murmur. “And maybe he doesn’t owe me answers. Maybe it doesn’t even matter, but I just…there was this moment when we were on the same page. When it felt so seamless, and easy, and good. And now…”

Max sighs. “Now he’s nobody.”

You both grow quiet as you let this settle.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking a sip of your drink. “He’s nobody. And it’s nothing. And it’s over anyway, so…I’m free to do whatever I’d like.”

He laughs. “That’s a great attitude.”

“Why thank you very much.”

“Of course.” He rubs his hands together. “Well, I guess in that case…maybe we should go over—”

“Peach Valentine.”

And almost as if you spoke him into existence, that familiar voice finds you. Cutting right through your conversation as chills fly up the back of your neck.

You almost don’t want to look. Want to pretend that this is merely a subconscious projection of the very last man you want to see.

But you can feel his presence behind you. Can smell his cologne and can see the surprised look on Max’s face.

Of course he’s here.

Slowly, you turn around, letting your eyes find the tall figure looming only a foot or two away.

He’s wearing an expression you know all too well. The one that tells you exactly what he’s thinking without him having to say a single word.

And your stomach sinks.

“Sir,” you whisper, voice oddly timid before you clear your throat and straighten up. “Hello.”

For a moment, he’s quiet. Offering nothing more than a blank stare. Then, he looks at Max. He looks at you. And nobody speaks.

Finally, his jaw sets, and his hands bury themselves deep within his expensive pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m…I’m meeting with Max,” you reply, shooting a smile toward your new friend.

Mr. Styles frowns. “You didn’t tell me you were meeting him.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” you retort, lowering your voice as you send him a pointed look. “Seeing as we’re not partners anymore.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re still my assistant. And your well-being is my concern.”

“Oh? I thought what I did with my personal life didn’t concern you.”

“It does when it has to do with him.”

Your glare begins to mirror his. “Well, since I am in need of a new business partner, I figured Max would be the perfect one to ask.”

Mr. Styles rolls his shoulders back, regarding you carefully. “And since when are you in need of a new business partner?”

“Since my old one walked out on me.”

This does it. His features twist into an unforgiving and rather harsh look of disdain as he steps closer and drops his tone. “I told you, I needed to explain—”

“No, you don’t need to explain,” you correct. “I’m not upset. I’m not bitter. I’m not angry. But that doesn’t change the fact that our agreement is over.”

His teeth grit. “Just because I left doesn’t mean I was ending our deal—”

“It does in my book. I don’t have time to wait for you, Sir.” You sit up, leveling the playing field. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

His fingers suddenly wrap around your upper arm, tugging on you until your feet hit the floor, forcing you to stand. “I need to talk to you.”

A bit surprised, you blink rapidly and attempt to pull yourself free. “Mr. Styles—”

“Now, Peach.”

You want to argue. Want to fight him on this. Want to stay strong, stay with Max. Send the mean man away.

But you know him, no matter how belligerent he’s being. And there’s something in those eyes that you’ve found yourself lost in that persuades you to nod and follow him to the hallway.

The moment you’re alone and the loud music has been dulled to a quiet hum, you step away from him. Put the necessary distance between your bodies as he watches you go.

“You shouldn’t be talking to him,” he says simply, almost as if it were obvious. “In fact, you shouldn’t be here at all.”

You scoff, rearing back to stare at him incredulously. “I’m sorry…you’re joking, right?”

“It’s a work night,” he replies, still infuriatingly cool. “And we agreed you wouldn’t do business with him—”

“We agreed?” Your eyebrow raises. “No, we didn’t agree on anything. You ran him out of the room without so much as checking with me first. And since when are we a we at all?”

He’s far too calm for your liking. “I told you, I’m still your boss. And partner. I want what’s best for you—”

“Really? Is that why you left?”

Once again, he scowls. “I told you, I had things to do—”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you snort. “Look, I don’t care why you left. I don’t even care that you left. But you did leave. So if I want to film with Max, I have every right to do so—”

“You do,” he agrees. “But you’re much smarter than that, Peach. And you know it.”

“Yeah? And what makes me so smart, hm? Sleeping with you?”

His expression twists into something you don’t recognize. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Sleep with you? Or point out that we did?”

“Peach—”

“No, you know what?” You take a brave step forward. “You have no right to come in here and demand that I leave him. Max is a good guy. In fact, of all the people that I’ve messaged on OnlyFans, he’s the only one that hasn’t said something skeevy or inappropriate.”

His expression falls. “Are you being harassed?”

“Not if I don’t respond. The block button exists for a reason. And that’s not even the point. The point is that you told me to do this. You told me it would be good for my channel to collaborate—”

“But not with him.”

“Then who? You?”

The hallway stills as Mr. Styles leans back. “This was never about me.”

“No. It wasn’t. It was about me,” you agree. “That’s what you promised. That this would be about what I wanted to do. And I want to meet with Max.”

The glare returns. “If you’re trying to punish me—”

“Punish you?” You laugh but it’s void of all humor. “Punish you for what? For being exactly who I thought you were?”

“You shouldn’t be here with him,” he says again, and your eyes roll.

“Then where should I be, huh, Sir? Should I be at home? Like a good little girl?” You take another step forward. “Should I be on my knees, waiting for you? Should I be fucking myself with that toy you bought? Pretending it’s you?”

You notice the muscles in his jaw constrict as he steels himself and throws you a look of warning. “Peach—”

“Because if I can’t fuck Max, and I can’t fuck you, then what do you want from me?” Another step. “You’re never happy. I can never make you happy—”

“Peach—”

“I get that this meant nothing to you. I get that.” You’re only inches away now. “But…you’re so confusing. You’re so goddamn confusing, and I never know what you really want. Sometimes I think I do, and other times…”

His lips purse shut but his eyes are soft.

“I feel like we used to want the same thing,” you admit quietly, heart in your throat as you stare up at the beautiful man before you. Your rage dwindles down to a contemplative annoyance. “And now we don’t. So…excuse me for trying to find somebody who does want me.”

Suddenly, he surges forward. Stepping up to you so quickly, and with so much power that it forces you to stumble back into the wall.

He cages you there, his broad chest brushing against yours as he peers down, features hard and unmoving.

“And you think that somebody is Max?” he sneers, almost as if mocking you. “You think that he wants anything more from you than the money you’ll make him?”

“Who cares?” you argue, but it’s weaker than you’d like. “It’s an investment, you said so yourself—”

“I am your investor. Not him,” Mr. Styles nearly barks, practically chastising you. “How could it ever be him—”

“Because he’s everything you aren’t.”

He doesn’t even flinch, instead cocking his head to the side as he smirks. “So that’s what this is? You’re trying to replace me? Trying to find somebody better?”

“Well it’s not hard.”

The Cheshire-like grin grows. “Fine, Peach. Let me ask you this…do you like who you are with him? Do you like the role he puts you in?”

Your lashes flutter. “I don’t…I don’t know what you mean—”

“Yes, you do.” His head dips until he’s fully in your space, making it impossible to know anything else but him. “Do you like how he treats you as though you’re nothing more than a means to his end?”

A breath catches in your throat.

“Do you like how it’s never about you? Only him?”

You squirm back into the wall, once again attempting to create a bit of distance, but failing miserably as he places a hand next to your head.

“Do you like how insignificant he is?” His voice has dropped to a dangerous purr, like silk that slips across your cheek. “Or did you like it better with me?”

A question meant to trap you and you can do nothing more than stare at the buttons on his shirt as you will yourself not to gasp.

“Because I think you like yourself better in my reflection,” he murmurs, his other palm now smoothing across your hip, subtly tugging you into his body. “The way I make you beg for me. The way I touch you. Kiss you. Fuck you.”

The words weigh heavy on your chest, making it hard to breathe as his nose softly ghosts against yours.

“Everything is better with me. And you know it. So why are you wasting your time with him? Hm, Peach? Who are you really trying to punish? Me…or you?”

And you could just slap him. You really could. Could fucking slap the dimples right off his face for being so smug.

“I’m not punishing anybody,” you whisper, nails curling into your palms to brace yourself. “I’m just doing what you told me to.”

“Well now I’m telling you to leave him.”

“Why?”

His eyes flick between yours. “Why do you think?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I want to hear you say it.”

The frown returns. “Peach—”

“Say it, Mr. Styles,” you repeat. “And maybe I will leave him. Maybe I’ll walk out of this bar, and never look back. I’ll delete his number, I’ll block him, I’ll never think of reaching out to him again. I’ll leave. With you.”

You can see the way he internalizes this. Can feel his grip tighten, can see the muscles in the arm beside your head flex.

“Just say it,” you mumble again, reaching out to brush your fingers down his chest. “Tell me what you really want. Because maybe I want it, too.”

Everything moves around you. The world, time, this moment.

But neither of you move.

And as the seconds pass, you can’t help but silently will him to finally be honest with you. To finally succumb to what he really needs. To make everything that’s happened mean something.

Then, his eyebrows weave together, and his lips turn down. “I want you to go home,” he finally says, and your heart drops so fast, it makes your head spin. “You’re drunk, and you shouldn’t be alone with him.”

“I’m not drunk,” you retort, now shoving on his sternum to create that space you so desperately need. “I’ve had one drink. And I’m not alone. You’re here.”

And maybe it’s too dark in this hallway to be sure, but you’re almost positive you see something painful flash behind his eyes.

“I won’t be for long,” he replies as he pushes off the wall and steps back. “I have other things to do besides babysit you.”

And that is your slap to the face.

Your hands ball into fists by your side. “You are such a fucking asshole. I never asked you to babysit me. I didn’t even want you here—”

“Clearly you need it,” he argues. “Since you aren’t capable of making decisions on your own. Even when you’re sober.”

You scoff so loud, it makes your throat sore. “I was doing just fine without you—”

“You were scraping by,” he corrects. “And you could do so much better if you realized that he’s nothing but a waste of time and sperm.”

Your nose crinkles as you make your way to the end of the hall, ready to rid yourself of him. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t…I can’t argue with you over the same goddamn thing. Okay, Max is nice to me. He tells me what he actually feels, and that’s something you could never understand.”

You think you see the briefest hint of disappointment, but it’s replaced just as quickly by a look of unamused indignation. “Fine. If you’d like your sex life and your career to be as mediocre as his cock…by all means. The choice is yours.”

“It is,” you agree coldly, ready to turn on your heel and run. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Styles.”

With that, you exit the hallway, leaving him behind.

And he lets you.

The following day, things aren’t as awkward as you expected. Mr. Styles doesn’t mention your run-in at the bar, nor does he attempt to restart the conversation about Max.

He treats you the way he did when he first hired you. With nothing but professionalism and distance.

At first, you’re thankful. There are no more sly comments or lingering stares at your chest. He follows your terms to let you make your own decisions. He lets your business be yours.

And he’s nothing more than your boss.

But as the days progress, you can’t shake the nagging thought that something bigger is afoot. Almost as though something is wrong. Off.

Maybe it’s just in your head. Maybe you want to believe he’s more affected by this little falling out than he pretends to be.

But you’ve known him for over a year. You know what it looks like when he’s upset, and this…this is not it.

However, you decide to push away the inclination altogether, and carry on with your work as usual. Because even if something is wrong, it’s none of your concern anymore.

That is until Nadia mentions it over lunch.

“Listen, he’s a very complicated man,” she says when you comment on his odd behavior, waving her salad fork through the air. “He tries so hard to appear uninterested, but I know it’s just an act. Nobody is that heartless.”

You swirl your French fry around in your ketchup, mulling this over. “I don’t know. He doesn’t…I don’t think he’s heartless. I think that’s just…who he is. He has a one-track mind.”

Nadia snorts. “Please. You should have seen him before…”

Your little lunch corner goes oddly silent as she suddenly presses her lips together and winces.

“Before…?” you repeat curiously, head tilting.

“Nothing,” she’s quick to reply, dismissing the comment with a flutter of her hand. “No, nothing. He just…he was more open when he first started the company, that’s all.”

You know there’s more to that story than she’s letting on, but you don’t push. Instead nodding your head as you return to your burger, letting the inquiry rest.

However, the subject is changed for all of three minutes before she sighs, and finally says, “Okay, look, it’s none of my business. And I don’t even know all of details, but maybe this will help make your job…easier?”

Once again struck with curiosity, you motion for her to continue.

“He had an assistant before you,” she begins. “His first assistant actually. I don’t know too much because I was working the mail room. But I do know that they were really close. Maybe friends, maybe more. I don’t know. But they were close.”

You lean back in your seat, endlessly intrigued as you wait for the rest.

“And everybody loved them together. She made him so happy. He was always smiling, always laughing, always walking around the office talking to everybody. Engaging in chit chat and catching up on everyone’s lives.”

It’s odd to picture your boss so open. So…infatuated. In fact, this fantasy she’s painting doesn’t sound like the man you know at all.

You have to wonder how different things would have been if he were still the same.

“Anyway, I don’t know what happened exactly, but something bad,” Nadia sighs. “The rumor was that she was seeing somebody he didn’t like. He got crazy possessive over her, and it drove them apart. She quit, and he became this sullen, hollow version of himself. And now that’s just who he is, I guess.”

“That’s…so sad,” is about all you can offer, frowning some as she nods.

“Yeah. It was,” she agrees. “After her, he didn’t hire another personal assistant for quite some time. Until you, actually. Which was kind of surprising, and I think we were all a little worried for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you seem to be handling him just fine, which is great. But…I don’t know. He just became very…cold. Distant, I guess. Doesn’t really create personal relationships anymore.”

You have to admit that this makes sense, although it doesn’t exactly help make things any clearer for you. “That must have been hard for him.”

“Yeah. And maybe he taught himself not to care, but…I think he hides who he really is because of her,” she admits with a shrug. “Which sucks. ’Cause he’s such a good guy, deep down. He just…he’s afraid, I guess.”

You hate the way your heart breaks for him. Hate the way this humanizes him. Hate the way it makes you second guess every interaction the two of you have ever had.

“Does he ever talk about her?” you ask next.

“No, never. I don’t even remember her name, to be honest. It was forever ago. Five or six years, at least.”

“Wow.”

“Mhm. As far as I know, he doesn’t date, either. I think he fucks around a bit. I mean, he’s a guy, after all,” she teases. “But he doesn’t really do anything…meaningful. Maybe he doesn’t know how anymore.”

Your stomach twists around an invisible knife. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” she hums, digging back into her salad. “I don’t know. If he’s being rude, just tell him to fuck off. That always works for me.”

You laugh as the subject is dropped and the two of you carry on with your lunch.

But you think about it for the rest of the day, the information following you back to his office where you’re quick to find that he’s left for the afternoon.

So, you sit with this discovery as you go through your tasks. Unable to stray from the thought for very long before your throat constricts, and you feel a wave of disappointment.

You text him as you’re leaving for the evening. A simple, “Finished prepping the presentation. Hope you’re okay,” before you tuck your phone away and head home.

Hours go by without a response. Not that you really expected one, but you can’t help feeling slightly guilty for the role you played in pushing him to open up.

And no matter how out of line he was, or how justified you were in asking for his honesty, you know how hard it must be for him to be honest with you.

Especially if what Nadia said is true.

After messaging Max for a bit about your upcoming video, you decide to run yourself a bath, letting the bubbles fill the tub as you watch the water rise.

You’ve barely slipped out of your socks when your phone vibrates on the porcelain sink, making you jump some at the sudden noise.

The familiar name flashes across the screen, making your heart skip as you hesitantly hit the green button and bring the phone to your ear. “…hello?”

“You did it, didn’t you?” Mr. Styles says, but even through the static, you can hear that there’s something off.

“Did…what?” you ask hesitantly.

“You fucked him,” comes the reply. Blunt and void of any civility. “Max. You fucked him, didn’t you?”

With narrowed eyes, you turn the water off and step out of the bathroom. “I don’t believe that’s any of your concern—”

“So, yes,” he answers for you. Then, you hear him chuckle to himself. However, there’s something chilling about the way he laughs. Bitter, almost. “You’re very easy to read, Peach.”

You can feel your expression fall into one of annoyance as you lean against the wall in the hallway. “Mr. Styles—”

“Was he good?”

You glower. “Mr. Styles—”

“I already know the answer is no,” he continues. “Even your own fingers would be better, but…maybe I just wanted to hear you say he wasn’t.”

You contemplate this for only a moment before you cautiously ask, “Are you drunk?”

You can hear the subtle slur slip through the speaker, and your eyebrows raise as he snorts.

“No, I’m curious,” he retorts, but it makes your heart pound. “And I’m still a subscriber. So I want to know what to expect.”

Your stomach wrenches. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Why are you avoiding my question?”

“Mr. Styles—”

“You like to torture me, don’t you?” he interrupts, and there’s a hitch in your breath. “You always have. From the first day I met you. You were wearing that really nice dress. And your hair was up in that pretty ponytail. And you walked in like you were trying to walk into my life and ruin me.”

Your head falls back into the wall, eyes fluttering shut. “Sir—”

“And I let you,” he carries on. “I let you ruin me. I let you do the one thing I promised I’d never do, and now what? Now you’ve gone and strutted your way into somebody else’s life.”

And maybe he doesn’t know what he’s saying, but you feel this overwhelming rush of emotion, anyhow. “Mr. Styles, where are you?”

“Where would you like me to be?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Says you.”

You huff. “Mr. Styles—”

“Tell Max I said hello,” he says instead. “And then tell him I don’t mean it.”

“Mr. Styles—”

There’s some sort of loud noise on his end before the line suddenly beeps three times and the call goes dead.

And you can only stand there, flabbergasted, as you stare at your phone. Wondering what the hell just happened.

You’re frozen for a good minute or two, running through your options. He normally doesn’t reach out when he’s drinking, at least not to you, and definitely not this late.

Maybe it’s a silent cry for help or maybe he just wanted to bother you one last time.

Either way, it breeds something unnerving in your gut as you groan to yourself and head back to your room to retrieve your shoes.

You don’t imagine he’s out. He has to be at his apartment, so at least you know he’s probably safe. But you don’t know what he might do. You don’t know what that sound was, and if he’s managed to hurt himself, but you don’t think anyone will be there to help for quite a while.

You grab the key he’d given you a few months ago. It was meant only for emergencies, although you’ve never needed to use it.

Tonight, however, you decide that this is as good an excuse as any.

You call an Uber to take you to his place, the lavish apartment building smack in the middle of downtown, quite a bit away from you.

Thankfully, the traffic isn’t too bad this late at night, and you’re grateful for the quick trip as you’re brought to a stop just outside the sidewalk in under thirty minutes.

You jump out, greet the doorman, and book it for the elevator before hitting the button for his apartment at the top of the building.

It’s a good three-minute ride before you finally reach his floor, and once those doors open, your heart leaps into your throat.

Even the hallway is exquisite, and your dirty Vans squeak along the newly waxed floors as you approach his apartment, and fumble with the key.

You unlock it as slowly and quietly as you can, hoping not to startle him if he is in fact inside, and the moment the door is cracked, you call, “Mr. Styles? Are you here?”

Everything is dark as you enter. Not a single lamp to be seen, only the soft glow of the city lights outside of his many large windows, and the pale shadow of the moon cascading across the floors.

You see silhouettes of furniture, walls, and a few appliances. Enough that you manage not to trip over anything as you make your way into his living room.

And then, you see him.

The shape of his body is outlined by the window to your left. He’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall as he stares out at the tall skyscrapers before him.

Your heart sinks as you pocket the keys and approach slowly. “Mr. Styles?”

He’s still. Deathly still, in fact. As if he hasn’t even heard you. He doesn’t even bother to look over or investigate your presence.

And then, he murmurs, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Your breath hitches. “Maybe not,” you reply quietly, taking another cautious step. “But I was worried about you.”

He snorts, arms slung over his knees, a crystal glass in one hand that’s only got a few drops left. “How nice.”

“Mr. Styles,” you try again, “are you all right?”

Now close enough to catch a glimpse of his profile, you see the sweaty hair matted to his forehead. The strain in his jaw and the red rim around his eyes.

“M’fine. You can go,” he calls.

You take another step. “You didn’t sound fine—”

“Well I am, all right?” he suddenly sneers, turning to face you as you lean back. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

“It’s not pity. It’s concern,” you correct briskly. “You’re drunk, and upset—”

“Yeah? What was your first fucking clue?”

You shoot him a look of warning as you bridge the gap and hesitantly crouch down to his level. “Why are you drinking?”

“Because I fucking can,” is his reply, his normally soft green eyes now as sharp as the edge of a sword. “Is that a problem?”

“Maybe. Do you remember calling me?”

“Of course I fucking do. But I don’t remember asking you to come here.”

“You didn’t,” you agree. “But I wanted to. Because I was worried.”

“Why? Don’t you have better things to worry about now?”

You’ve never heard him sound so insecure, and you’re reminded again of Nadia’s story as you glance over his expression. “I haven’t slept with Max.”

This is the only thing that seems to reach him, his lashes fluttering as he leans back, although his scowl remains put. “Why not?”

“We just haven’t yet. We’re still planning the video.”

“So you’re going to?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You think so.”

“I plan to.”

He scoffs beneath a quiet breath and looks back out the window. “And you needed to come here to tell me that?”

“I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you tell him again. “And to set the record straight.”

“Why? You were right, it’s none of my fucking business.”

“It’s not, but you still seem to care.”

He snorts. “I don’t fucking care who you sleep with, Peach.”

“Sure, okay. Is that why you tried to keep me from doing it?”

“I was trying to help.”

“You’d help me a lot more if you were honest.”

“I am honest. I’m always fucking honest.”

“Not about this.”

His eyes return to yours. “I told you, you can do better. That’s my honest opinion.”

“Fine.” You take a moment to study him. “Then why did you offer to help me?”

His head drops back against the wall as he mulls this over, but his gaze never leaves you. “Because you needed the help. I knew you could make more money if you just did things a little differently, and I was right.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“What else would it be?”

Your head tilts. “Why did you agree to be in the video with me?”

“You said you didn’t have anyone else.”

“Why did you get me custom jewelry with your initials?”

His teeth begin to grit, the grasp on his glass tightening some. “What?”

“The peaches would have been fine. My initials would have been fine. But you wanted me to wear your name,” you remind him. “Why?”

“I already told you, I wanted him to know who your real partner was—”

“Yeah? Then why did you leave?”

His lips press together. “I thought you didn’t care—”

“I do now. Why?”

“I had somewhere to be—”

“Where?”

“Yes, where? Where did you have to be?”

He seems to fight himself on the answer before finally admitting, “The gym.”

You lean back, blinking quickly. “I’m sorry, you rushed out of there to go to the gym?”

“Yes.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff as you shake your head. “Wow. No, I should have assumed as much. Makes perfect sense. Clearly that was so much more important than just telling me I made you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t,” he suddenly interjects, shooting you this look like he’s disappointed in your response. “I left because I knew I couldn’t stay.”

“You couldn’t stay? And why the fuck not?”

“Because—” He stops himself, once again clamping his jaw shut as if wrestling with the truth. Then, he drops his head, eyes finding the floor as he glares at the marble beneath. “Because I couldn’t.”

And you want to scream because you don’t know if he’ll ever be honest with you. Don’t know what to do to reach him.

“You know what I think?” you finally huff, and he looks up. “I think this is about her.”

Confused, he glances over your expression. “Her who?”

“The girl who used to work for you. Your first assistant. The one who left.”

Instantly, the atmosphere changes, his entire demeanor shifting on a dime as he presses his back into the wall and shoots you a venomous look of intimidation. “Oh you do, do you?”

“Yeah.” You hold your ground, keep your shoulders stiff. “I think you loved her. I think you were honest with her. I think you let yourself trust her, and I think…she broke that trust.”

You can tell he’s not quite sure what to do with this, furrowed brows still knitted together. “And where the fuck did you get that?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s true, isn’t it?”

His finger taps the edge of the crystal in thought, but his contemplative expression remains. “Even if it were, what does this have to do with us?”

“Everything,” you say simply. “She broke your trust, and you chose not to get close to anyone again. But then you started helping me. And we got closer. And created a bond—created trust. And the second you realized, you ran for the hills.”

He snorts again, but he doesn’t rush to deny it.

So, you carry on. “Max coming along only made things worse for your fragile little ego. And maybe you were trying to keep it from happening again, but you did a really shitty job of it. And now here we are, sitting on your floor, saying everything but what we really mean.”

He’s angry. He’s so very angry, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, fighting himself on what he really wants to say.

You scoot closer, gently reaching out to take the crystal glass from his hand so you can place it on the floor. Then, you rest your palm atop his arm, and meet his eye.

“Harry,” you whisper, and he sucks in a sharp breath, tensing beneath your touch. “I’m not her. And maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it’s not. But I have only ever wanted it to be you.”

He’s quiet but you have his full attention. And the intrigue in his features urges you to continue.

“Even before you told me that you watched, I imagined you,” you admit quietly. “I’ve always imagined you. Your voice, and your hands, and your face. And yeah, I didn’t mind keeping things…professional. Strictly about the content and nothing more. But…you have to know I wanted more.”

Once again, the back of his head meets the wall, as if bracing himself from your honesty.

“I wanted more,” you repeat. “And I thought you did, too. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard, and maybe that’s why I tried to use Max to move on. But I never wanted Max. I only wanted you. I just…I wasn’t sure I could have you.”

He looks down at your hand, gaze softening when he sees the way it looks on his arm. Like he’s mesmerized by your touch.

“And I need you to tell me right now what you want,” you say softly. “I need the truth. I have to know if we’re running around in circles for no reason, or if…maybe we can get off this ride together.”

He’s silent for quite a long stretch, letting himself ponder a response as the apartment fills with a solemn quiet.

You study his face in the soft glow of the moonlight, wonderstruck by the sharp curve of his jaw in contrast to the soft curls near his cheeks.

Even now, he’s breathtaking.

Finally, he clears his throat. “Ellie.”

“What?”

“Her name,” he says, “was Ellie. And you’re right, I did trust her. But I ruined it. Not her.”

Now it’s your turn to listen as he recalls this memory to you, nodding gently for him to continue.

“She didn’t…she loved somebody that wasn’t me. That was her only fault,” he murmurs, once again staring at your hand as your thumb strokes his tan skin. “And it wasn’t even a fault. But I hated it. Because I wanted it to be me. And it was never going to be me. We both knew that.”

Slowly, his arm turns over, allowing your gentle touches to dance along the more sensitive skin.

You smile.

“I crossed so many fucking lines,” he admits quietly. “As her boss, as her friend. I pushed her away only to drag her back and try to keep her close. I suffocated her. I let myself need her in ways I shouldn’t have. She had every right to leave. In fact, she should have left sooner.”

You feel the tips of his fingers brush against you as he subtly grabs on.

“And then you,” he whispers, eyes still locked on where you’re connected. “I’d been doing so good. Didn’t let myself slip again, and then you came along, and everything was fucked. Because I knew I couldn’t do to you what I’d done to her. But I let myself think about you anyway. Even when I shouldn’t have.”

You can feel tears crawling up the back of your throat, and the wounded look on his face is like a fist to the heart.

“And for some fucking reason, I thought offering my advice would allow me to know you without ruining anything,” he sighs, tugging you a bit closer until your knees collide with his. “Which obviously didn’t work. And then I was looking for excuses to be with you. To have you. To touch you. Even though I knew better. Even though I had to know better.”

He takes a deep breath. Holds it.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he eventually exhales. “And I got scared that the only reason you felt like you wanted more was because I somehow tricked you into it. I confused you, I manipulated the situation. It wasn’t real. And I wanted it to be real. But then Max, and I got so fucking angry, and I knew I was doing it again. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to you.”

He won’t look up. He won’t meet your eye, and the hard set of his jaw makes you take hold of his other arm and squeeze it tight.

“Harry,” you whisper, but his head shakes quickly.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he barrels on, fingers wrapping around your elbow, keeping you close. “Because I can’t have it. I can’t have you. And you were right, I can’t be your partner anymore. I can only be your boss.”

You frown but it’s sad. “Harry—”

“Mr. Styles,” he corrects, finally shooting you a look of warning that breaks your heart.

But you aren’t deterred. Instead, you release him so you can wedge yourself between his legs and take hold of his face. “Harry,” you repeat, urgent but gentle. “This? It’s not the same.”

He struggles a bit in your grasp, tensing up as he tries to pull away. But it only lasts a second before he’s settling into your embrace, allowing you to guide his attention to you.

“It’s real,” you whisper. “It’s so fucking real. It was real even before you called me poor and badly dressed.”

This earns you your first smirk of the evening, and the butterflies that explode in your gut nearly make you dizzy.

“You’ve tried to push me away over and over. But I’m still sitting here, on your floor, begging you to talk to me.” Your thumbs delicately brush across the bags under his eyes, and he seems to nuzzle into your palms. “It’s not the same. You’re not just my boss or my investor. You’re my partner, Harry. And I can’t do this without you.”

His arms slowly slip around your middle, encouraging you onto his lap as his legs drop.

And you eagerly oblige, straddling his hips with ease as you look down at him.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” you murmur. “So don’t make me. Please.”

For a moment, you aren’t sure what he’ll do. What he’ll say or feel. He’s still somewhat tense, and far too quiet.

Then, he tugs, crashing your lips into his.

And it’s the most honest thing he’s ever done.

“Turn around.”

The strong command leaves no room for argument as you quickly spin on your heel, eager to obey.

Your ass is revealed to the camera. Bright red from the many spanks Mr. Styles has landed to it. It complements the dark black lingerie set he recently purchased for you, something you’re both rather proud of, and perhaps the main feature of this video.

You hear him hum his approval as he approaches, large hands slipping over the curves of your hips. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs before shoving you onto the bed. “Think it’s time we show them what a wet little whore you are, hm?”

You feel his finger hook into the crotch of the panties before he’s ripping them aside, allowing your swollen cunt to glisten for the lens.

You gasp as the cool air hits you, but it quickly melts into a desolate whine when you feel his touch ghost up the back of your thigh.

“Look at you,” he muses, palms pulling on your cheeks to spread you open, giving your audience a firsthand glimpse of your mess. “So fucking pathetic, aren’t you, Peach? And all I’ve done is spank you.”

“Can’t…can’t help it, Sir,” you pant, steadying yourself on your hands and knees as your eyes flutter shut. “Just want you.”

“Oh you do, do you?” He kneads your bruised flesh with admiration. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You squirm a bit as you whimper, desperate to lean back into his touch before he lands another smack to your thigh, reminding you to stay still.

“Yes,” you finally answer, chin meeting your chest. “Wanna deserve it for you.”

You hear him chuckle under his breath as he allows his touch to travel toward your dripping pussy, large digit pushing through your folds just to make you mewl.

“I bet you do,” he replies, running up and down your cunt to collect you. Tease you. “But we have a deal, don’t we, honey?”

You want to kill him and kiss him all at the same time.

“Yes, Sir.”

“We do.” He pats you again, this time gently. “Go on and grab it, all right?”

With a nod, you outstretch your shaky hand for the object sitting on the bed only a few inches in front of you.

Already tender and slightly swollen from the way he played with you earlier (casually and much too cruel), you feel a rush of excitement as you hand him the chain.

After taking hold of it, he moves to sit in front of you, allowing him better access to the front of your body as he motions for you to sit back on your ankles.

“You ready?” he asks quietly, eyes flicking between yours as he looks for your consent.

You nod. “Always.”

With that, he reaches for your exposed tits and begins preparing your nipples for the clamps.

You swallow a dozen whines and whimpers as he works them shut, the subtle ache quickly dissolving into an immeasurable type of pleasure.

And he’s smiling so big, like he’s so proud of you. Proud of the way you look, proud of the way you feel, proud of the way you obey.

It makes the yearning in-between your thighs that much worse as he travels the other end of the chain down to your clit.

Once again, he plays with you. Drags his fingers up, down, and through to make you writhe, and make sure you’re ready.

Then, with great care but devious intent, he slips the clamp along the base of the sensitive nerves and secures it.

You choke on a gasp, body stilling as the sensation becomes a bit more familiar. It’s quite thrilling. Not painful, but prominent. Taunting you with its power as you glance down at the way it holds you.

Harry leans back to study you, carefully observing every pull of your brows or hitch in your breath. “You okay, Peach?”

You nod, lip sliding between your teeth.

He frowns. “Color.”

“Green,” you say quickly, nails digging into your thighs as you release a heavy exhale. “It’s just…new.”

His expression softens as he reaches out to grasp onto your chin and squeeze once. “I know, my love. But you’ll take it for me, won’t you?”

And you say, “Yes,” with so much adoration and excitement that it returns those dimples to you.

His eyes drift toward the computer, checking the status of the livestream you assume before he leans forward and presses his lips to yours.

You know your faces aren’t in the frame, but it makes your heart pound nonetheless as he offers you a moment of his affection.

“How’s your ass?” he mumbles between kisses to your bottom lip.

You nod gently and sigh into his mouth. “Good. Sore.”

And he chuckles as he sends you a devious wink. “Good.”

With that, he stands, and begins to undo his belt as he returns to his spot behind you. He doesn’t plan to be gentle today. Not for your first live appearance, and you’re grateful for his punishing hand as it ghosts down your spine, guiding you.

It travels between your thighs, tapping them briskly as a reminder to keep them spread as you bend back over.

And once you’ve braced yourself against the mattress, you feel those long, skilled fingers nudging at you again.

“Sir,” you whisper, desperate for the friction as he keeps his touch light, merely tracing patterns along your folds while humming to himself.

“Yes, Peach?”

You swallow thickly. “Please?”

“Please?” His thumb moves up to brush over your tighter hole, and you gasp again as you await any sort of contact. “Please what?”

“Please…please touch me?”

“Touch you,” he repeats thoughtfully, as if considering it. “I don’t know. Have you disobeyed any of my rules?”

With a quick shake of your head, you glance down at the duvet beneath you, the expensive fabric soft beneath your clenched fists.

“Have you used any naughty language?” he asks, the tip of his middle finger lowering to circle through your arousal.

“No,” you breathe.

He begins to push in, leaving your other opening alone. At least for today. “Have you called me by the wrong name?”

Not aloud, you think, biting back a smirk as you murmur, “No, Sir.”

The digit travels a bit further, the feeling of him pushing past your tight walls like heroin as you reel.

“Have you taken your punishment like a good girl?” he inquires next, and you chew on the inside of your lip as you nod.

“Yes.”

And you can’t exactly see him, but you can practically hear his smirk as he suddenly adds a second finger in beside the first, just to surprise you.

“Yes,” he agrees. “You have. Been my perfect peach, haven’t you? Guess you’re showing off for them, hm? Letting them think you’re actually an obedient little cock-whore?”

And maybe you are showing off, at least a little, but it’s hard not to obey this man. He just makes it so…worth it.

“Yes,” you call again, desperate to please him. “Only for you, Sir.”

Suddenly, you feel his fist against your scalp, scraping through your roots as he furiously yanks, forcing your head up.

“Only for me,” he nearly seethes, dipping down to press his lips against your ear. “Want you to fucking say it. Every time I touch you. Every time I make you come. Want you to say it. Remind them who you really belong to.”

Apparently, having his initials glimmer from your nipples isn’t enough, but that’s more than all right with you.

You’ll happily vow your life to him as many times as he needs. Because there’s something empowering about having a man beg you to be his.

And for the first time since you’ve met him, you realize…you’re on the same ground. Equal partners. Equal power.

You and him.

One.

With that instruction, he curls, now stroking and thrusting into you with a fervent need to force you up the mountain.

“Only you,” you whisper between salacious moans for relief. “Only, Sir.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, smacking his other palm against your ass before groping at the tender skin. Soothing it and stimulating it at the same time.

The pace increases, faster and faster until you feel as though you can’t breathe. Until you’re trying to meet his rhythm by rocking back into his touch, but the hand on your hip holds you steady. Makes you patient.

“Only you.” It’s almost inaudible, released through quivering lips as you begin to slip into your first. “Only you. Only…”

He plunges in to the knuckle, beckoning you toward your release as it hits you hard. Fireworks go off behind your eyes as you keen, sweat beading around your hairline, and chest heaving.

“God, only you,” you barely manage as you fight for air. “Just you, Sir. Always.”

He takes his fingers out, allowing the world to see your come drip along the insides of your thighs. And the loss of contact makes your chest ache as you whimper and peek over your shoulder for a glimpse of his face.

He’s smug. Because of course he is, endlessly pleased with the way you’ve come undone so quickly.

Wet digits quickly outstretch for your cheeks, pushing on your lips to accentuate your already obvious pout.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns darkly. “You know better.”

You glance up at him with remorse and desperation, hoping your tiny hum will be enough to sway him. “M’sorry, Daddy.”

It’s the first time today you’ve used the nickname, and you watch the effect it has on him as he tightens his grip and scrapes his teeth together.

“Peach,” he grumbles, “don’t fucking test me. Not today.”

“I’m not. Promise. Just wanna feel you.”

And that’s the truth. It’s all you ever want. Want his cock, his time, his attention. Anything he’ll give you, and he knows this.

Because he wants you just as bad.

And maybe, if he had the strength, he’d punish you for this little game. He’d waste hours just making you wait for him. Tying you up, leaving you to beg, taunting you with something you can’t have.

But today, that would punish him, too. And you can see that he doesn’t have the capacity to go without you, not even for show.

So, he releases his hold on you only to land a very firm and sharp smack to your cheek. And it stings but it feels so good, forcing another groan as you lean back.

“And you will,” he finally decides, settling behind you again as he begins to tug his pants down. “Gonna feel me for days, honey. Make sure you can’t fucking sit without thinking of me.”

Just the image of you in one of those boardroom meetings, legs still bruised and clenched tightly together as you sit for hours on end makes you gasp.

He’s gotten braver recently. Normally, he’s tame. Making you rest on his lap in the privacy of his office while he absentmindedly runs circles over your clit. Answering emails as he plays with you. Like it’s just an average workday.

But now he tries to tease you in public. In meetings, at lunch, when you’re apart. Making you sit with a remote-controlled toy deep inside your cunt during a meeting with the board of directors. Changing the tempo over and over again while forcing your silence. Leaving you to squirm in your seat as you silently beg him for mercy.

Sometimes he gives it to you. Most times…he does not.

You imagine this week will be no different. Especially after today. He always gets a bit more insatiable after the two of you have posted a video together.

He’ll make you watch it in his office. His now favorite tradition. And the comments and response will encourage something in him that makes you giddy. Possessive yet proud. Like he wants to outdo himself next time. Make you come harder, longer, faster. Make everyone watching eat their fucking hearts out.

You feel the tip of his swollen cock brush down your folds, lazily rubbing against you as he alerts you of his presence.

Just the feel of him makes you breathless, back arching as you silently plead with him for more.

He won’t give it to you, at least not yet. Not until he’s had a chance to watch you soak him.

He presses his hand against it, trapping it to your cunt while gliding it through your arousal. Gentle thrusts that have you clenching around nothing until you hear him curse to himself.

“Beg me,” he calls, grasping onto your ass cheek to pull it apart, allowing him a better view. “Beg me to fuck you, Peach. Beg Daddy to make it better.”

“Please,” you comply instantly, a subtle quiver in your voice. “Please, Daddy. Need you. Need to feel you. Hurts.”

“Oh, honey,” he coos, finally circling the rim of your aching hole and pushing in only an inch just to pull back. “Bet it does. Know I’ve been teasing you all day, haven’t I?”

You whine again. “I deserved it. Always love it when you tease me.”

He chuckles under his breath, and you know you’ve made him proud. “That’s right. Know you do, my love. Because you know I just wanna make it better for you, hm?”

“I know.” You attempt to wiggle back into him, but his unrelenting grip keeps you frozen to your spot. “Always do, Sir. Always make it better.”

He slides in again, further this time, allowing your body to stretch for him. Then, he slides out, leaving you to wilt as you swallow a groan.

“And I always will,” he answers, knee knocking into your inner thigh as an instruction to spread your legs a bit further. “Just have to behave for me. Think you can do that, Peach? Think you can be good for me?”

And you’ve never wanted anything more, head nodding quickly before he finally thrusts into you with such power and dominance that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Truth be told, you never know what you’re going to get with him. What rhythm will drive him. But you’ll take anything he offers. Because hard and slow or fast and eager…it’s perfect. Sets your nerves on fire and leaves you desperate and depraved.

The sounds of him pushing through and pulling out are sure to be captured by the microphone. You can’t see the computer, but you imagine the audience is loving it. They always seem to enjoy sounds as much as you do. And Harry’s sounds are the best.

Your quick breaths intertwine seamlessly with his unforgiving grunts. Like a melody for the soul, and you slowly slide down until your chest meets the mattress, although your ass stays up.

He seems to like this angle, nails scraping down your spine before he lands another smack to your cheek. “There she is.”

Both sets of clamps are stimulated as you’re pushed against the bed, making your eyes roll back every time he drives himself to the hilt.

The pain is delicious. Exactly what you’d needed, and just when you think it can’t get any better…he slips an arm around your stomach and forces you back up.

Instantly, his hand is on your throat, tugging your back into his chest as he settles you down on his cock.

Dominant fingertips press into the sides of your neck, playing with your airways as you gasp. And for a moment, you are nothing more than his toy. Just a body for him to use, and the idea makes you clamp down on him until he groans and nuzzles his nose into your shoulder.

But you know it’s more to him than that. Know that you’re not just this thing for him to abuse and ruin. He wants to worship you. Treat your body like the divine gift it is, and even though this display of aggression is uncouth…it’s meant for you. To make you feel good. Everything he does is always for you.

“So good, baby,” he whispers, just quiet enough that only you can hear. “Fucking love the way you feel, Peach. Always so warm for me. So wet. My perfect hole.”

You shudder, nails reaching for his arm to scratch down his skin. Desperate to be even closer to him.

His hand then drops to your chest, finding your breast and groping at it mercilessly as you cry out. The clamps are tugged, stimulating the rings, and forcing your back to arch. So many sensations are being exploited that it’s nearly impossible to think straight. Your mind is mush, focused only on one thing to keep from drowning:

Him.

“Wanna come, don’t you?” he taunts, now louder so the audience can hear. “Wanna come on my cock, so they see what I do to you?”

You nod quickly, unable to vocalize your agreement. But he doesn’t need it. He knows. Can read your body like a book, and it makes him smile into your heated skin.

“Good,” he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck before reaching down to undo the clamp around your clit. “Go.”

The moment the pressure is released, it hits you. Your toes curl, your eyes roll back, and you make so many noises, you wouldn’t be surprised if the people below Harry’s apartment can hear you.

He works you through each ripple and aftershock, perhaps hoping to send you into a third, but your body needs a moment to recharge.

And this is more than fine with him because it gives him a bit more time to watch himself disappear into you. His favorite part.

You collapse in his hold, held up only by his strong arm that’s thankfully bare, allowing you to glance down at his tattoos.

He takes his shirt off for almost every video now. He knows that nobody will be able to recognize his tattoos, but he especially knows how much you love them. Love to lick them, trace them, stare at them.

Your perfect pastime, and you think this now as you grip onto his wrist and squeeze.

He exhales into your shoulder before he’s suddenly cursing and pulling out, the sound of his slick cock slipping from your cunt making you whimper.

With a single pat to your hip, he growls, “On your back.”

You nearly throw yourself down onto the bed, finally able to face him fully as you’re met with the sight of his flushed cheeks.

He’s so beautiful when he’s turned on, and you feel nothing but grateful to be able to witness this sight firsthand. Even your audience is denied such a pleasure, and it makes it feel that much more special to you.

He pushes your legs apart and settles between your thighs, grasping onto his cock before guiding it toward your chest.

He never comes inside you on film. He claimed it was because they don’t deserve to see it, and you didn’t argue. You like the idea. Occasionally he’ll capture a short clip of the way he leaks out of your pussy, but it’s never posted. Instead saved just for the two of you to watch whenever you need.

So while you’ll miss feeling him inside of you today, you know that it’s worth it. You like that you get to keep something for just the two of you. You like this possessive side of him.

Love it, in fact.

Nodding at your breasts, he silently instructs you to grab them, to which you do, pushing them together as he brings his swollen and soaked cock closer.

Slowly, he slides between your tits, disappearing beneath the supple flesh as you both groan your approval.

He’s already seconds away from his own release, but he edges himself by fucking your tits for as long as he can. Staring wordlessly at the way he looks beside his initials on your nipples.

“Fuck, Peach,” he breathes, brows knitted together as his jaw clenches. “Like it like this, don’t you? Like it when I come like this?”

And you do, a soft sough of agreement all you can offer as you look down at the way his tip pokes through the valley you’ve created. The contrast of his pink flesh against your skin is beautiful. Artful, even. And it makes you smile, wider than you have all day.

His pace is slow, allowing you to feel the slickness paint your chest before he’s suddenly tensing, the muscles in his stomach contracting quickly.

You await his offering eagerly, practically panting as you watch him run his palm along his cock before he’s releasing all over your torso and chest.

He falls forward, bracing himself with a hand beside your head while you throw your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whisper as he milks the last few drops. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You feel a shiver roll across his body at your comment before he’s smashing his lips into yours, dancing his relieved sighs across your tongue.

It takes a good minute or two for you both to find your bearings, but once you have, he reaches toward the nightstand where the remote lies.

Aiming it at the camera, he clicks a couple of buttons, and the red light turns off, signaling that the livestream has ended.

Now alone in his massive bedroom, he grins down at you. “My sweet fucking girl. Did so well for me, honey.”

You bask in his praise, nuzzling your nose against his before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That was fun. Like it when you fuck my tits.”

“Yeah?” He’s smirking again, palm now smacking against your breast just to watch it jiggle. “Good. ’Cause I don’t plan to stop.”

Your arms snake tighter around his neck until he’s forced to lay his chest against yours. “Think they liked it?”

“I know they did,” he murmurs, face disappearing into your neck as he breathes you in, sweaty or not. “They love you, Peach. You’re so good to them.”

You press your lips into his hair.

“You’re good to me, too,” he adds quietly, sliding his hand across your body until he can hold onto you. “Always so fucking good. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

A sort of flutter happens in your stomach as you squeeze him tighter. “Ditto.”

You stay there for a few minutes at least, teetering on the verge of sleep before Harry declares you need to get clean.

He scoops you up and carries you to his large bathtub, dipping you into the warm water once it’s ready and settling himself on the other side to face you.

You talk for what feels like hours, until you’re pruned, and the bubbles have disappeared. You go over the scene, go over what you think the comments will be, and even go over his schedule for the upcoming work week.

It’s weird the way you’ve managed to balance the relationship of boss and lover. You’re able to distinguish the two and create the appropriate boundaries. Making it easier to work together without driving each other nuts.

Something else you’re grateful for.

You stare at his wet abs as he talks, smiling to yourself as you admire every curve of his stomach, and every nipple he has to offer.

He splashes some water at you when he realizes before grabbing hold of your ankles and sliding your closer.

You kiss until you can’t breathe, and life feels really good.

Really fucking good.

Once you’re out and dried, you make your way back to his bedroom to make sure everything from the livestream is in order.

You scroll through a few of the responses together, making mental notes of what to do next time. And once you’re both in agreement that everything looks good, he adds it to your shared profile.

Appropriately titled,

Peaches and Cream.

I have no excuse for this or explanation, I'm just gonna blame it on the sick meds I took 🙃

I already miss them but I'm absolutely going to be doing some extras and maybe that'll make it not hurt so much 😭💞

Thank you to everyone who's read and been so kind and supportive!!! You have my entire heart forever and ever, I cannot tell you how appreciative I am 🥹♥️ This has been so fun!!

Peaches and Cream forever!!

Previous Part:

~ Four to Go*

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @narry-heart @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @likeapplejuicenpeach @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @finelinesss

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beef-brisket · 2 months ago

Text

Devil and the Priest!au

(Feel free to change the name- it's 1am where I am, so my brain is starting to fry lol)

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 @fanofstuff01

---

Lucifer drove through the country side, he's been behind the wheel for nearly 5 hours. He didn't realize how much of a drive getting to this monastery. He knew it was remote but this is getting ridiculous- he should have brought snacks.

He glanced out his window every now and then to take in the scenery. He's currently driving past a large body of water, where he spotted a small island. He wishes he was over there, with no worries or expectations. With no one but himself. The Vatican has been on his ass lately about making this trip. Apparently, there was something 'dark- and 'unsettling' at this monastery. If any of the priests he knew were anything to go by, it was probably just them. He swore they refused to die, they had more wrinkles than brain cells.

Lucifer turned his radio up, some type of rock song was one, it was a big no no to be listening to music like this, it's his car. Driver picks the music, and the Vatican shuts their cake hole.

Finally, as the sun was setting, Lucifer arrived at the monastery. The large stone building loomed over him, maybe the Vatican was right, this place was unsettling. He felt like he was being watched, the multiple colours in the sky masking how decrepit this place actually is. Pulling out a brochure from his pocket, Lucifer couldn't help but smirk, they're really trying to market this place like it's a holiday retreat.

Lucifer: "Welcome to the Hazbin. Find not only sanctuary and enlightenment but also beaches and the best crab around!" ...right, definitely staying away from the crab then...

After an exhausted sign, Lucifer licked his car and picked up his bags. Making his way towards the large wooden doors, Lucifer couldn't help but dread the next two or three hours, all he wanted was to hop into bed and close the world off foe a few hours but he'd probably have to take the whole tour and- ew- meeting people.

He shuddered at the thought.

Lucifer: I wonder if I could convince them to leave the formalities till tomorrow...

Lucifer gripped a huge, iron door knocker and banged it three times. He knew this could take a while so he prepared to get comfortable- until the door was pulled open.

Priest: Hello! And welcome to the Hazbin! How can I assist you this fine evening!

Lucifer: uh- yeah- hi, my name Luicfer, I've been told to come here by the Vatican- I've been told you're expecting me...?

Priest: hm... Lucifer...

The man flicked through a small book, humming every so often. What's the point in having glasses if you still can't read a damn book.

Lucifer: look man- sir- it's been a long drive, I'd really like to just get to sleep-

Priest: ah! Yes! Here you are, Lucifer! Please, come right in! We've been expecting you for hours, your overseer said you would be here this morning- but better late than never I suppose!

The man moved aside to let Lucifer in. He really didn't like this guy, but that's not new, priest are pretty... eccentric.

The man shit the door behind him, using at least six locks to secure it.

Priest: pardon my manners, Lucifer! My name is Alastor- Father Alastor. And I'll be your superior while you're here

Ah, great. He has to answer to this... lovely man. Forcing a smile, Lucifer did what he did best: lie.

Lucifer: that's very exciting Father Alastor, look forward to working with you and getting to know this place more personally!

Alastor: oh, I could imagine! I'm sure you've heard a lot about me! I've been in charge of five other monasteries before this one! All saw a raise in volunteers and profits.

Lucifer: that's fantastic, Father. It's a real honor to be working on this project with you-

Alastor: "project", yes, that's one word to describe it.

Alastor lead Lucifer down a long hall, hebcouldbt believe how quiet it was. He was told there were at least 60-70 nuns and other workers here but it just seemed abandoned.

Thankfully, Alastor showed Lucifer to his room, it was large with a queen bed in the middle. It didn't have much furniture, just a set of draws and a desk out looking the garden. It was dead and overgrown, but the air was fresh, he'll have to start taking up writing again.

Alastor: well! Lucifer, it is a real pleasure to have you here! Tomorrow I'll show you around and I introduce you to some of the other occupants here- there are quite a few so I do expect you to introduce yourself to some of them in your own time.

Lucifer dumped his bags on his bed, and turned to face Alastor.

Lucifer: that understandable. Thank you for this Alastor, I'll see you in the morning-

Alastor: bright and early Mr Lucifer. I like to get the day started as the break of dawn

Of course he does.

Lucifer: great! I better get some sleep then

Alastor: yes, you should. Goodnight Lucifer

Finally, Lucifer was alone. Or at least he hoped. He still hasn't shaking that feeling from earlier. Except this time, he was certain nothing was watching him, Alastor seemed to be the only other living thing here. And that's giving the bastard a lot of credit. Not once did he stop smiling- Lucifer already wants to wipe that look off his face.

All Lucifer wanted to do was sleep, so he got comfortable and started to drift off.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #priest au

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oliversrarebooks · 2 months ago

Text

The Rare Bookseller Part 68: Oliver's Speakeasy

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, blood drinking

October 1925

"You have to relax a bit, Oliver," said Roger. "If you're holding your breath while I lace your corset, it will be dreadfully uncomfortable."

Oliver let out his breath and tried to calm his nerves. "I'm not used to corsets. It's not anything I thought I'd ever have to wear."

"That's how I felt as well, but vampires do love their low-necked ballgowns on men and women alike. It's another thing I've become accustomed to -- out of all the adjustments that come with being a vampire's thrall, dresses are minor."

"That's true enough. I can only hope I look acceptable in it."

"Given how your master looks at you, I believe he would think you're fetching in a flour sack." He began to lace the corset tight. "You're quite devoted to pleasing your master, aren't you?"

"I find that I can't help myself. Isn't that the effect of the enthrallment?"

"One effect, certainly. Although after twenty years, I hardly know where the enthrallment ends and I begin."

Oliver nodded. He didn't need twenty years to feel that way. He already felt as though he hardly remembered himself before enthrallment. "You seem very comfortable with your master."

"Comfortable, yes, you could say that. It's my duty to take care of him, and it's an easier life if you keep a sense of humor about it. I suspect I've become fond of him apart from the enthrallment. And I know my master appreciates my efforts." He finished lacing the corset and put a hand on Oliver's head. "Your master appreciates you as well, I'm sure of it."

"I can only hope so."

Roger helped him put the gown on, a turn-of-the-century style done in midnight blue with embroidered roses, one tailored to his exact measurements. He then fastened a delicate gold chain adorned with sapphires around his bare neck. Oliver stared into the mirror. He was dressed like a princess or a wealthy heiress, looking nothing like himself. It was a stark reminder of how much he'd been changed since the night of his capture.

It had only been weeks, and yet his former life was already receding away from him, never to return.

Oliver then assisted Roger in donning his own gown, an ostentatious red number that had very clearly been chosen by Roger's master and not Roger himself, and they made their way up the stairs to their masters' chamber to help them prepare as well.

Alexander and Fitz were lounging on the bed when they entered, but they both stood up, wide-eyed, at the sight of the thralls. Fitz whistled. "Fantastic. Lex, are you sure you want Oliver to go out like that? He's going to turn every head in the place."

"Let heads turn. If they touch my thrall, they'll pay the price," said Lex with startling fierceness. "It's no different from when I went out with you."

Fitz laughed. "Somehow, I don't think Oliver will end up grievously insulting and humiliating a vampire in front of an entire ballroom."

"It's almost a pity," said Alexander thoughtfully. "Come here, Oliver, I wish to take a better look at you."

Oliver stepped closer to his master, who took him by the shoulders and swept over him with an appraising eye. He tilted Oliver this way and that, and took his chin in his hand to meet his gaze. Oliver felt just like that fateful night in the auction house, when Alexander had decided to make his purchase, when Oliver first felt his hunger and desire. Even though his master had taken blood the night before, the undercurrent of hunger and desire was still pressing down on him.

"Master, hold still while I fasten your cummerbund," said Roger, who had started to assist Fitz while Oliver was losing himself in his master. "It's difficult to fasten when you squirm."

"You should be helping me with my attire as well," said Alexander, running his fingers down the side of Oliver's face.

"Yes, sir." Oliver felt as if he were in a dream as he began to help his master prepare, slipping the neatly pressed coat on his shoulders and tying a neat bow around his neck.

Just as the vampires were finishing their preparations, the doorbell buzzed, and Oliver ran down the stairs to answer, careful not to trip in his embroidered slippers. He flung the door open to Miss Lily, dressed in a floral pink frock and tall pink heels, the sort of fashionable thing Oliver saw in department store windows. Behind her, Miriam, also fashionably dressed, poked her head out shyly.

"Oh, Oliver, you look positively dashing! This dress suits you so well," said Miss Lily, cradling his chin in her hands. "Where are your masters? They had better be ready, because I don't want to leave the carriage waiting long."

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my bad luck charm," said Fitz, hanging over the balcony.

"Oh, Fitz, dear, thank goodness you're here. Lex hasn't cracked so much as a smile since you last left, even with this delightful thrall at his beck and call. You'd better have relieved him of his malaise."

"You want me to relieve Lex of his malaise?" said Fitz, sauntering down the stairs. "You might as well ask me to remove the water from the ocean."

"I do see your point," said Miss Lily. She leaned in towards him and whispered conspiratorially. "Has he told you about his plan?"

"His daft plan to get all of us tortured? Naturally. And I support it, of course, because I'm as daft as he is."

Miss Lily sighed. "Of course you do. I expected nothing less."

"My ears are burning. I think you must be talking about me." Lex was walking down the stairs now, with Roger following behind.

"Oh, Roger!" Miss Lily went to him and squeezed him, a fondly dazed smile appearing on the thrall's face. "I do hope you've been well."

"Never better, Miss Lily," he said dreamily. Oliver wondered if Roger had been enthralled by Miss Lily as well. And on that note…

"You look lovely, Miriam," he said politely to the thrall, who was clinging to her madam and looking perhaps a bit uneasy at all the commotion.

Her face lit up in a smile. "Oh, thank you, Oliver. You look very handsome as well!"

Miss Lily clapped her hands. "Now that we've got everyone here, let's all pile into the carriage, shall we?"

Next thing Oliver knew, he was crammed in next to Alexander in the carriage, which was only just barely large enough to hold all six people.

"I've been looking forward to this," said Fitz, shamelessly snuggled up to Alexander's other side. "It's been ages since we've been out to the Tiger's Eye."

"Lex and I were there not so long ago," said Miss Lily. "If Lex gets as drunk tonight as he was then, you're going to have to help me carry him home, Fitz."

"Oh, with pleasure."

"If I might ask, sirs…" said Oliver, fidgeting with his dress hem, "What sort of place is the Tiger's Eye?"

"Why, it's a social club for vampires and their thralls. One of the most popular in the city," said Miss Lily. "Everyone who is everyone puts in an appearance now and then, even recluses like your master, and we all bring our favorite thralls, all dressed to the nines. There's entertainment and stiff drinks and even h'ors doeuvres for the thralls. You'll just love it."

Oliver nodded, far less certain than Miss Lily that he would love it. He'd never frequented bars and clubs, finding them loud and awkward at best. At least he wouldn't be going there alone, but could stay by his master's side.

"Make sure you stay close to me," said Alexander, as though he read Oliver's mind. "Don't entertain any vampires who show an interest in you."

"Yes, sir."

They stepped out of the carriage in front of an unassuming restaurant that seemed as ordinary as any other. Clearly human patrons could be seen through the window, enjoying Italian dishes. "This is the Tiger's Eye, sir?" asked Oliver.

"It's in the basement. The restaurant is simply a front run by the same vampire who owns the club." Alexander pulled him close as they walked to the entrance. "It offers cover, and brings in human money and human blood."

"I see, sir."

A mouth-watering scent filled his nose as the group stood before the maitre'd's station. Miss Lily moved a flap on her dress to reveal a ruby pin, and the maitre'd waved them to the back. They all descended a rickety spiral staircase, the sound of music and laughter growing louder.

The Tiger's Eye club was much larger than the restaurant upstairs. All of the tables were low, with the patrons sitting on piles of cushions. While some of the crowd were wearing contemporary fashions, like Miss Lily and Fitz, a good number of them were dressed in formalwear from decades gone by, much like Oliver's ballgown. More alarmingly, some of the patrons were dressed in very little, as though they were burlesque dancers. It didn't take long for him to realize that these were thralls, kneeling on the cushions and gazing up at their vampiric masters with adoration.

There was a stage at the opposite end of the club where a jazz quartet was playing. Waitstaff flitted among the tables, and like many of the thralls, their outfits were absolutely scandalous. Their glassy eyes and sleepwalking mannerisms indicated that they were heavily enthralled as well, and there were prominent bite scars on their necks and shoulders. In one of the back corners, a well-dressed vampire was drinking from a waitress.

With Alexander, it was sometimes easy for Oliver to forget what sort of situation he was in, and feel like he was perhaps an ordinary servant to an eccentric rich man instead of thrall to a vampire. His current surroundings made him intensely aware of his situation, surrounded by potentially hostile vampires and semi-conscious human slaves. Alexander, of course, wasn't distressed at all, taking in the scene with a smile on his face.

All vampires are dangerous -- that's what Roger had told him.

Nonetheless, Alexander was by far Oliver's greatest chance at safety, and so he shamelessly clung to his master as they walked through the club. He could feel the eyes of leering vampires on him and see their hungry grins. His master's grip tightened. It seemed like an eternity before they arrived at a table with a "reserved" placard on it.

The vampires arranged the cushions and made themselves comfortable, Alexander beckoning Oliver close and pulling him halfway into his lap. Next to them, Fitz flopped over into Roger's lap as the latter sighed.

"The music's good tonight. Who's playing?" Fitz asked.

"They're regulars here. The trumpet player is an older vampire -- I've trained up a few of his thralls, and he has a great sense of humor. The others are all fledglings, more or less…"

Oliver found he couldn't really concentrate on what Lily was saying over the din of the crowd, deafened by the sound of his own heartbeat and blood rushing through his ears.

"Say there, I can't help but notice what an excellent thrall you've brought with you."

Oliver nearly jumped out of his skin. The vampire addressing Lex was a larger man in a checkered suit.

"Thank you," said Alexander with a hint of threat. "He's my most treasured possession." And Oliver's heart twisted to hear himself described that way.

"Where do you get a fine thrall like that? I'm new to the area, just moved from down south, and I'm looking for some fresh blood."

"Oh, then I'm the one you want to talk to," Miss Lily interjected. "I handle conditioning for all of the finest high-end auctions and private sales in the city. I can't promise you'll find one as good as Oliver here, as thralls like him are in short supply, but I'm sure I could help you find something to your taste."

Oliver felt Alexander's hold on him relax as the vampire in the checkered suit started to happily chatter to Miss Lily about thrall sales. He noticed that, in addition to Miriam sitting in her lap, Miss Lily was now surrounded by several other adoring thralls, draped contentedly against her shoulders and over her legs.

"Who are…?"

"The thralls Miss Lily conditions are often drawn to her," said Alexander, toying with Oliver's hair. "This happens whenever we go to a place openly frequented by vampires."

"Good evening, sirs."

Oliver looked up to see a waitress dressed in frills that barely covered her most private areas, her eyes dull and glassy. He blushed and looked away.

"We have many top quality spirits available, as well as an assortment of blood on tap, including rare specialties. If there's anything I can fetch for you, esteemed sirs, it would be my pleasure to serve."

Alexander didn't seem the slightest bit put off by the waitress's plight. "I'll have a dry red, whatever's recommended."

"Certainly, sir."

"A light white wine for me," said Miss Lily.

"I'll take a sidecar," added Fitz. "And whatever beer you have on tap for my thrall."

"Right away, sirs."

"I can order something for you when she returns with the wine," said Alexander, and Oliver realized that the waitress had, of course, only asked the vampires what they wanted.

Oliver looked up again now that the waitress had walked away. "I don't drink, sir, but if I could have some tea, that would --" His eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat. No, it couldn't be. But it certainly was.

While Oliver had been busy trying not to stare at the waitress, another thrall had arrived to cuddle Miss Lily. She was wearing a highly fashionable teal evening dress with elaborate gray embroidery and fringe, her neck and wrists were dripping with gold, and her red hair was done up in a curled bob. She looked nothing at all like the last time Oliver had seen her, but Oliver knew he'd never forget that face, her fear burned into his mind.

"Emily!"

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week: Emily!

Oliver last saw Emily all the way back in the auction house.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush

#whump #whump writing #vampires #vampire whump #mind control #rare bookseller #oliver #roger #alexander #fitz #lily #miriam #emily

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auras-moonstone · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Ursula I hope your day is great! I was wondering if you can do Jack champion x reader them watching the Barbie movie and them like having matching cute pink outfits and like them posting about it and the routine of them getting ready!

hii! love this request, i loved barbie!! btw can we appreciate how pretty jack looks in pink?? like 😫💕🥺😭💓🥹💖 i’m in love with that man

feel the glamour in pink — jack champion

word count: 1,376

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING JACK LOVED MORE THAN SEEING HIS GIRLFRIEND HAPPY. And he would do anything to make her feel like that. So, when Y/N asked him if he would be up to have matching pink outfits to go see the Barbie movie, he instantly grabbed his keys and led them to the mall.

“You know we don’t have to buy anything, right? I have pink clothes, and so do you” Y/N laughed as he dragged her towards a shop.

“We don’t have to, but I want to buy you a new outfit” Jack told her. Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed his lips against hers before she could mutter a word “I want to spoil my girl”.

Y/N blushed—something she always did when he called her ‘his girl’. “Okay, fine”

They spent a few minutes seeking for pink pieces of clothes until they made a few outfits. “Now go try them on for me”.

“Yes, sir” she teased as she entered the changing room. She grabbed the first outfit—it was a checkered pink dress and a short pale pink cardigan above it.

When Jack heard the click of the door, he turned his head and with wide eyes took in his girlfriend’s figure. “Holy shit”

“It’s really cute, but the dress is too short for my liking”

“Well, certainly not for mine”

Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes “I’m not getting this dress”

“That’s okay. Next”

The next one was a bit more like her. It was a white top and jeans with wide legs and a cute hot pink blazer.

“Oh, yeah. Blazers are your thing, babe. You look like a hot business woman” Jack said when she got out of the dressing room. Y/N threw her head back laughing.

“I really like this one” Y/N said, checking herself in he mirror.

“This is really hard” she heard Jack say as she changed into the next outfit. “You look good in everything, how are we supposed to choose?” Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile on her face, completely in love with the way her boyfriend was always complimenting her.

“Jack I think this is the one!” Y/N said as she opened the door. Jack fell silent, inspecting her with detail. Yes, this was indeed the one.

That deep shade of pink matched her skin tone perfectly and the clothes looked absolutely good on her. It was a white tube top underneath a hot pink vest and high wasted shorts of the same color.

“Please never take that outfit off. I’m begging you” Jack said, standing up. “You look fantastic. I’m going to look so bad next to you”.

“You could never ever look bad, and you know it” Y/N laughed, grabbing him by the fabric of his shirt to pull him down in order to give him a kiss—which was supposed to be short, but Jack had other plans. “Nuh-uh, sir. That’s completely inadequate. You have to wait outside the dressing room” she said in a playful voice when Jack tried to pull them inside.

“I hate you” Jack said, throwing himself on the couch like a little kid who had just been denied a candy.

“I love you too, you big baby”

“BABE CAN WE DO A LIVE WHILE WE GET READY?” Jack asked her, he was already dressed. He had put on a white tank top, jeans and a pink jacket—which was the same color of Y/N’s outfit. “The people are asking”

Y/N laughed “Sure, why not. You look unbelievable handsome, by the way”.

“Thanks, love” Jack kissed her nose before setting his phone on the bathroom counter, checking that they could both be seen “Hi, guys! We are seeing Barbie tonight and we are getting ready. Well, she’s going to get ready I’ll just stand here to admire her”

“Hi!” Y/N waved nervously. She wasn’t part of the media. Jack’s fans knew her as his best friend—who was now his girlfriend—, and while they all have been super kind to her, she still gets a bit anxious.

hi y/n/n!!

you look gorgeous y/n/n !!❣️

jack move away we want to see y/n😫

y/n/n if you ever dump jack hmu

“Hey, if you’re going to flirt with my girlfriend and be mean to me I’m going to end the live” Jack frowned and pouted like a baby. “And she’s not going to dump me, quit it”.

“Oh, poor Jack” Y/N said, giving him a kiss on the cheek which made him smile.

“If you’re going to kiss me everytime they insult me, then please keep insulting me guys” Jack said with a smirk.

“Stop seducing me. We need to hurry” she scolded her boyfriend “I’m going to get dress and then I’ll do my make-up”

“I can’t wait for you to see her outfit. It’s so good” Jack said when Y/N left the bathroom. “We went to the mall together yesterday to choose it”.

are u excited for the movie?

“Yeah! Y/N’s excitement is contagious. She has been talking about the movie non-stop since it was announced. She’s a huge Greta fan. Wish you guys would hear her rumbling about Barbie, she’s adorable”

awe he’s so in loveeee

“I mean, if you guys fell in love with her with only a couple of tik toks and instagram stories, imagine how head over heels I am” he laughed.

“Ta-dah” Y/N said entering the bathroom as Jack whistled. “Thank you, guys!” blood rushing to her cheeks as she read the compliments the people in the chat were telling her.

“You look beautiful” Jack grinned, eyes shining like fireworks. She smiled shyly as she embraced him in a hug. “Can I do your make-up?”

“Sure. I’ll keep it simple, though. First, eye-liner”

“Oh, this is scary” Jack said.

“If you poke my eye out, there are people witnessing it. Remember that” Y/N teased him, closing her eyes. She felt him carefully making the cat eye and the simple brush of his fingers against her skin made her feel dizzy.

“Ready” he squeezed her waist.

She looked herself on the live and made a surprise face “Jack, that’s actually cute”

Jack smiled contently “Now, what?”

“Mascara and lipgloss” Y/N said, handing him the stuff. He put the mascara first and then his favorite part—the lipgloss.

Y/N watched his face of concentration and melted. “You’re adorable. And you have the most beautiful eyelashes. So unfair”.

“Y/N! Thanks, but don’t move your lips! Now there’s lipgloss all over your face” he laughed.

“Hey, don’t you wanna check if this lipgloss lasts?” Y/N smirked.

Jack’s eyes twinkled and the corner of his mouth lifted “I guess this is the end of the live. We’ll tell you what we think… of the movie, not the lipgloss”

“Bye guys!” Y/N said as her boyfriend ended the live. Immediately, Jack’s lips were glued to hers.

“Hmm, grapes” he muttered, making her laugh.

Y/N ENTERED THE CINEMA WITH PERFECT EYE-LINER AND MASCARA AND LEFT WITH HER FACE LOOKING LIKE A RACOON. Jack rubbed her shoulder comfortingly throughout the way home. He couldn’t put into words how much the sight of her crying pained him.

“Babe, what can I do for you? Do you want a hot bath? Snacks? Ice cream? Do you want me to put your favorite Taylor Swift album on? Want me to give you massages?”

Y/N laughed and rested her head on his chest as she shook her head no “I’m fine, I promise. The movie left me a tad sensitive but I’m alright. Thank you, though, you’re the sweetest. I love you”

“I love you more” he kissed the top of her head lovingly. “Do you want to cuddle in bed?”

“Yes, please. So much crying left me exhausted” she laughed.

“You know that you’re the smartest, funniest, most gorgeous and kindest girl in the world, right? You have the purest heart and you make me so so happy” he grabbed her from the waist, lifting her from the floor.

A bright smile instantly appeared on her face, and it was physically impossible to erase. Her heart felt so full of love she was afraid it might explode “I love you so much. You’re the best boyfriend in the world and you make me extremely happy too”

jackchampion she’s everything, i’m just jack y/n.l/n

y/n.l/n you’re perfect and i love you so much

jackchampion no you are🥺❤️

jacksdaylight how was the lipgloss- i mean, the movie???

jackchampion 10/10

y/n.l/n it was the best thing ever, thanks for asking!

#jack champion #jack champion x y/n #jackchampion #jack champion x reader #jack champion oneshot #jack champion fluff #jack champion imagine #ethan landry #ethanlandry #jack champion fanfic #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x reader #barbie #barbie the movie

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cap-ironman · 14 days ago

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2024 Captain America/Iron Man Reverse Bang Masterlist

After months filled with creativity being crafted into fanworks, this year's Reverse Bang is finished! Thank you to all of our fantastic participants—congratulations on posting, and we hope you had a great time working together, whether this was your first Cap-IM RBB or not!

Here’s the final list of our 12 fantastic artwork entries and their accompanying works, all created specifically for this event. Enjoy exploring the new Stevetony content, and remember to show your appreciation through kudos, comments and sharing if you haven't already!

Mind the warnings for each individual work on their AO3 page, please.

A Brooklynite Abroad by BladeoftheNebula (G, MCU, art) ★ Team Masterpost

Found My Heart Wandering by ItsMayBiTheWay (M, MCU, 2972 words)

The scenery, for lack of better words, is simply breathtaking. The colors of the sunset before him, as he crosses his legs on the wooden pier, reach inside Steve’s sternum and cradle his heart gently, the soft pinks and blues swaying in the sky to create the perfect shade of lilac. They fill in the cracks like the ancient art of kintsugi, proudly emphasizing all the scars with gold- you are better for all the scars you take, Steven, it shows you have loved, it shows you have lost- it all shows you have lived; instead of wasting your heart away, the voice of his mother repeats. Backpacking across Europe for inspiration for his upcoming art show after a bad breakup; the last thing Steve expects to find is love.

caught red-handed by jetblackfeeling (T, 616, art) ★ Team Masterpost

Red Strings of Fate (Tying Me To You) by ItsMayBiTheWay (E, 616, 5035 words)

It should be uneventful. Steve has done this a million times, one way or another. Being used in public service announcements and publicity for the army came with the shield long before the ice did, and just because they changed mediums and became online in this century has made no difference for Steve. Shaking his head, Steve physically tries to chase the memories of last night away. He puts on his most charming smile- one that Tony always tells him that makes his knees go weak, and takes a deep breath, promising himself that he won’t think about Tony until he ends the live stream. These people are tuning in for a good cause, his whole attention is the least he can give back to them in exchange. Well, things rarely go according to plan, huh?

Situationship by Neverever (T, 616, 6832 words)

Steve isn't surprised that a clip of Tony appearing on his zoom meeting just wearing his thong went viral. He is surprised that his friends all think that it was a really weird way of making their relationship public. The thing is, he and Tony aren't dating and really aren't in any relationship.

A Dragon's Pride by massivespacewren (G, 616/MCU, art) ★ Team Masterpost

A Dragon's Pride by Naivelittleprincess (G, MCU, 14436 words)

Sir Steven has a great task ahead. Bring King Dreykov the heart of the dragon that took Princess Natalia and the knight would be rewarded with the truth. But all his expectations are thrown off the back of his horse when the dragon whisks him away to a distant land, where he just might end up finding what he had been missing for all those years of his lonesome wanderings. A home.

Etch Your Kiss Like Acid On My Lips by Zappedbysnow and Pia Bartolini (E, MCU, art, 8396 words) ★ Team Masterpost

A Skrull, an explosion, and a vat of lethally corrosive goo. - - - - - Or, that time when Steve lost his clothes, his left eyebrow, his dignity, and a boatload of baggage relating to one, Tony Stark. The forced proximity smut nobody asked for.

Gift of Consequence by oluka (G, MCU, art) ★ Team Masterpost

Gift of Consequence by KandiSheek (M, MCU, 15117 words)

Steve remembers the old wives' tale of the dragon in the mountain, sleeping on a pile of gold. He has never paid it any mind, but when his mother gets sick and time and money is of the essence... he might reconsider believing in fairytales.

I prayed on the unmovable by tossha and Missy_dee811 (T, MCU, art, 5177 words) ★ Team Masterpost

“There’s no way anyone survived out here,” said Steve. “That’s rich, coming from you,” said Tony. “You suspect he’s here; I gathered as much. That’s why you put together this team and why you’re tight-lipped about what’s inside that base,” he said. “I’ll admit, it’s a smart plan. At best, he’s here. At worst, we’ve learned the ins and outs of a Hydra base and hopefully, the location of another.” She looked up and met his eyes. “And what if I think he’s here?” “Are the rumors true?” “That depends, which rumors?"

A Kiss [ART] by Fluffypanda (G, 616/Warp World, art) ★ Team Masterpost

Ordinary Days by Neverever (T, 616/Warp World, 5275 words)

Sigurd cares for Stephen and Stephen cares for Sigurd. But Stephen can not be sure if his feelings only come from memories of emotions from other lives.

Lost Self [ART] by Fluffypanda (G, 616, art) ★ Team Masterpost

a four-dimensional object by veslarkinson (T, 616, 14722 words)

The year is 1975: the stonewall riots were only six years ago, the CD has yet to be invented, and Tony Stark is taking his first steps into trans-humanism. >> initializing(extremis-setup)...

President Rogers by AvengersNewB (T, MCU, art) ★ Team Masterpost

Codename: Liberty by SomeSortofItalianRoast (M, MCU, 11282 words)

United States President Steve Rogers is a Medal of Honor recipient. Billionaire lobbyist Tony Stark once sold arms to the Taliban (it wasn’t on purpose, Pepper!). It’s a match made… in the Oval Office? President Steve Rogers can’t stand billionaire lobbyist Tony Stark. Bad press between them requires them to work together and pretend to be friends. They slowly realize that they have a lot in common, and end up in a secret relationship, which, of course, gets out.

Stars, Stripes, and Unconfirmed Sources by ashes0909 (E, UNIVERSE, 13600 words)

BREAKING NEWS: Bucky Barnes, Press Secretary: I have answered this question multiple times, Stark and the President met at the Climate Conference over a year ago and became friends thereafter. That’s all there is to say on the matter. Next question.

Redemption by MassiveSpaceWren (G, MCU, art) ★ Team Masterpost

Redemption by Sedna (truthiness_aura) (T, MCU, 17863 words)

Steven of Stormwind, Paladin of the Silver Hand, has finally made one too many important nobles angry. Now he’s been sent halfway across the world to assist the Alliance’s new members, the draenei. And he’s been assigned to accompany the strangest of them all - Tony, an artificer - on a goodwill mission across the new territory.

Sunshine on Leith by KandiSheek and AvengersNewB (E, MCU, art, 16889 words) ★ Team Masterpost

With the new government law prohibiting the employment of unbonded omegas, Tony has no hope of keeping his job at SHIELD, knowing full well that he has little chance of ever finding a mate. That is until he's officially claimed by a very special alpha: Steven Grant Rogers, also known as Captain America.

Wine and Dine Me by Neverever and BladeoftheNebula (E, MCU, art, 5289 words) ★ Team Masterpost

Four times Steve tries to convince Tony he's ready to put out + the one time it works 😏

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #capimrbb #capimevents

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bengiyo · 5 months ago

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Don't Care for an Old Man's Underwear Ep 10 Stray Thoughts

This watch made possible thanks to @isaksbestpillow.

Last time, Hasegawa had the baseball team talk to Kakeru about why he felt uncomfortable with them. Over a series of conversations, the guys came to a better understanding about how their behavior made others uncomfortable, and realized that sometimes those behaviors make them uncomfortable too. On top of that, we got to see the baseball team mingle with Kakeru's girl friends. Elsewhere, Moe asked Makoto to go with Mika to the concert. Mika shared with Makoto that when she was in a dark place, RANDOM gave her something fun as a mental break and helped her make it through. Makoto listened closely and came to the fantastic analysis that RANDOM is the Okita family's benefactor. He had a great time at the concert with Mika, let her hang out with her fellow fans after the concert, did some research on his new bias, and then finally shared his research with Mika. They had a fantastic night, and met their kids on the way home. They invited Daichi and Madoka to hang out with them, and then Madoka proposed to Daichi in front of the Okita family. They later went to tell Daichi's mom and it was beautiful. I cried. We left at the family waiting to hear from Madoka, who went home to tell his family.

Oh no. Mihoko is definitely talking to Daichi's dad.

The costuming here feels intentional. Daichi and Makoto have come so far together that it feels like they're on the same page with their clothes looking so similar in color scheme.

Also, Makoto has become such a better listener. He can respond in compassionate ways to Daichi now that is supported by the earnestness he's always had.

I just love how thoughtful Makoto has become.

Kakeru looks so much more relaxed these days. He's having big youth moments.

Aw, Makoto was trying on the makeup trivia, and they dunked on my man.

Madoka succeeded!!! 🎉

Is Daichi's dad back to be homophobic? Sir, do you realize you are in the penultimate episode of the improving yourself and unlearning toxic masculinity show?

I am mad. I like Makoto slowing down to think about how best to support Daichi here.

I am with the makeup rival that they may be unintentionally encouraging Shizuka to change herself for her romantic interests.

Sir, your intellectualized homophobia is not cute.

I remain a fan of Haranishi.

Mika is such a good mom. I love the way she listens to Kakeru and gets him to the emotional core of his feelings. I also like that she doesn't disguise that some things aren't easy.

I will never forget Daichi. It's so rare that the characters can tell you how their own internalized homophobia cripples them in front of their relatives.

Yes, Kakeru! Tell him to meddle!

Well well well, Kakeru, look at you taking your own advice.

Wow, this man has gone too far. Do not talk to someone else's kid this way.

Yes, Makoto. Please go kick this man's ass.

This is such a difficult episode. There really is nothing you can say to someone to remove the infection of internalized homophobia. It's so upsetting because we learn shame at home. That's what this man put into his son. He is so rude, and I need him to have his ass handed to him pronto.

This was such a great episode reflecting on where we all fit into the society. I keep thinking about the scene about the colleague of theirs who got downsized. We contort ourselves to fit in only to be discarded when we're no longer useful, and then we lose our spouses.

I'm looking forward to the conclusion of this show, but I know I will miss it so dearly.

#Ben watches #ossan no pantsu ga nandatte ii janai ka #don't care for an old man's underwear #oppan #japanese drama #jdrama

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transformation4life · 2 years ago

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Do The Chul Dance!

"Alright Darren, get ready!" The dance director shouted with his megaphone.

Darren the scrawny white man walked onto the stage.

"Okay Darren, we need you to do something like those KPOP stars now chop chop!" The director waved his baton.

"U-Um sir... I don't... watch KPOP-"

"Nonsense! Just feel it in your body!" The director interrupted Darren.

"N-Not to be mean sir but I'm just a an american white guy..." Darren isn't korean let alone someone that's ever left the U.S. so he wasn't sure how he could "feel it in your body".

Infact this whole gig was weird from the start. Darren was an amateur dancer and was trying to find a bit of work to fund his student loans and this job just came to him on a phone ad one day.

Dance like a star!

Get money and change your life!

K-Star~

The tagline was a bit weird but money is money. But now... he was at a loss.

"Now now darling, how about you put these on!" The director got out of his chair and handed Darren an impressive pair of shades with Darren reluctantly putting the eye covers.

"Let's take it from the top! Show your korean gusto, Darren!" The director shouted into the megaphone once more

"S-Sir... like I told you before I-I'm america-"

"What are you talking about my good chap? Being korean was part of the sign up process. You are 100% one!"

"But I'm not-"

"You are Korean. Always have been," The moment the words left the director's mouth Darren's new shades began to glow and Darren's body began to change.

Darren lost a bit of muscle as he became a bit skinnier while his face was restructured to be much more authentically korean with narrower eyes, a bit plumper lips and slimmer nose. The final physical change for now was Darren's becoming a bit tanner. Memories of being on American soil all Darren's life were replaced with memories of korean city skylines and immigrating at age 20. Despite it all he's somehow pretty good with english but still stumbles from time to time. Darren's mom was always enamored with american names so she named his son with one.

"Ah, right. So sorry! Don't know what came over me!" A korean accent quickly overtook Darren's former voice like it always been there.

"No worries no worries! Now you said your name was Darren correct? That's not a very korean name is it? Why did your parents choose it?" The director gave a curious smirk.

"Oh! Well my mom has always been fascinated with american culture so she named me something american so she felt like it was always a part of her life-"

"Good. Great. Fantastic even. Just one tiny problem with that. It says on this paper here your name is 황철순..."

"Hwang Chul Soon? Like the famous bodybuilder? Oh please the fact we're the same race is more insane than anything let alone me sharing the same name as him-"

"Your name is definitely 황철순," the shades glowed again as Darren's or rather Chul's timeline was changed to fit the director's vision.

Chul's mother never had a knack for american culture. Instead it was just pure coincidence that he would share the name of famous South Korean Bodybuilder Hwang Chul Soon. Chul felt like he never deserved the name and yet he still had it.

"Apologies. I slipped up again... yes... my name is 황철순... But can we get to the dancing now? You've been asking a lot of questions-"

"It's all part of our process for a perfect korean dancer, Chul! Just a bit more now!" The director smiled

"Okay... what else do you want from me?"

"Hmm... how well do you know your korean?"

"I was born and raised there so I would say it's about as perfect as it can be..."

"Excellent! How about your english? Doing good on that front?"

"My english? Not too bad... I do fumble a bit sometimes though,"

"그래서 당신이 말하는 것은 당신이 더 이상 영어를 몰라도 괜찮다는 것입니까?" (So what you're saying is that you wouldn't mind not knowing english anymore?)

"어… 뭐?" (Uh... what?)

"당신은 더 이상 영어를 모른다," (You don't know english anymore.) The shades shining glory returned and absorbed all knowledge of the english language from Chul. Despite immigrating to America he never quite figured out the language so he stayed in mostly korean immigrant areas leading to this korean dance company.

"...더 이상? 그래 내가 영어를 전혀 못하잖아..." (…Anymore? Well yeah I don't speak english like at all…)

"좋아요! 스타가 될 순수한 한국인!" (That's right! A pure korean that will be a star!) The director was being especially loud this time.

"어… 그래? 난 널 위해 한 번도 춤을 춰본 적 없어-" (Uh… yea I guess? I haven't even danced once for you-)

"나는 당신의 조급함을 이해합니다 하지만 여기서 거의 끝났습니다. 조금만 기다려줘 알았지? (I understand your impatience but we're almost done here. Just wait a bit for me okay?) The director gave a look that gave Chul chills in his spine.

"자, 당신의 체격을 어떻게 설명하시겠습니까?" (Now, how would you describe your physique?)

"오, 별거 아니에요 선생님… 저는 평생 체육관에 가본 적이 없어요. 황철순 같은 사람과 이름을 공유하는 것조차 의욕이 없었어요-" (Oh, it's not much sir… I've never been to the gym all my life. Even sharing a name with someone like Hwang Chul Soon I've just never been motivated to-)

"무의미한 말! 당신은 신의 체격을 가지고 있습니다! 누구나 당신이 되고 싶어할 것입니다!" (Nonsense! you have the physique of the gods! Anyone would want to be you!)

"부럽긴한데 근육이 거의없어서..." (I'm flattered but I barely have any muscle… ) Chul twiddled his thumbs in shame

"나한테 거짓말 할 필요 없어 철. 카리스마처럼 근육이 엄청나다!" (You don't need to lie to me Chul. your muscles are huge just like your charisma!)

"선생님… 저는 그 둘 다 가지고 있지 않습니다-" (Sir... I have neither of those-)

"신의 근육과 고기 가득한 근육과 HIGH 카리스마," (You have the muscles of gods and the pecs full of meat and HIGH charisma.) The shades shone like never before as Chul began to pack on muscle at an alarming rate.

First there was the massive biceps, then the faint appearance of a sixpack with Chul's back widening soon as his neck become thicker and his adam's apple more prominent. The star of his upper half began to show itself as his flat rack became massive chunks of meat that could rival the most gifted of women. Chul got a bit taller as his swishy pants rode up exposing the thicker legs that he just obtained. A smirk overcame Chul as his hairstyle become much more suave and he threw his lousy shirt side exposing his new muscle body and charisma.

"알아차리셨다니 다행입니다! 이제 충분히 말하고 더 춤추세요!" (So glad you noticed! Now enough talking and more DANCING!) Chul's new charisma immediately showed itself as Chul began to show his moves.

"내가 찾고 있는 바로 그 철! 나를 위해 밈 댄스를 해주세요!" (That's the Chul I'm looking for! Do a memey dance for me!) Chul nodded and began his routine.

"그리고…. 플렉스!" (And... Flex!) Chul walked up to the stage and flexed to the director.

"잘했어 철! 당신은 당신의 분대에 완��합니다. 당신은 내일 시작합니다." (Great job Chul! You're perfect for your squad. You start tomorrow.) The director stood up and clapped.

"이런 기회를 주셔서 정말 감사합니다 선생님. 내일 봐요!" (Thank you so much for this opportunity sir. See you tomorrow!) Chul waved goodbye to the director and left the building.

With no one in the room the director began to laugh manically.

"Heh... another transformation complete I almost surprise myself with my power. I'm going to have the greatest bodybuilding dance group known to HUMANITY!" The director laughed even harder.

"Poor ol' Darren..." The director pulled up a picture of Chul or rather Darren.

"He doesn't know anything... how much happier he is now."

#race change #bodybuilder tf #chul soon tf #male tf #muscle tf #reality change #mind change #mental change #korean tf

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karespocketboyfriends · 18 days ago

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𝙰 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝙼𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚃𝚘 𝙶𝚘 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙰 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚛

Sylus X Evie (OC)

Warnings -> 18+ NSFW (Does this count as pet play???/penetration via fingers/use of ‘kitten’/‘sweetie’/‘sir’), both characters have the cat curse

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

If I had known playing kitty cards as a means of bonding with my long lost cousin would have one day lead to this, I would have kept my distance. Or at the very least, recommended another activity.

But, no. I just had to make the effort to swing by Linkon City’s Meow’s Café every weekend for a few rounds of kitty cards with Faye. And I just had to start dragging my boss along because of my own selfish desire to see the big bad leader of Onychinus surrounded by pastel colours and Evol cats.

Being cursed by the cats is humiliating enough. Being seen by my boss after being cursed by the cats is mortifying. Getting my boss cursed by the cats is a fantastic way to sign off on my own death certificate.

I clamp my teeth down on the inside of my cheek, trying to keep any and all forms of laughter threatening to spill out of my mouth at bay. “You know, Sir, you look quite dapper.”

“Quiet.” He hisses. The pointy feline ears sprouting from the top of his head are flattened, the long, thin tail behind him hanging low.

Even as a cat, he’s still annoyingly attractive. The butler style outfit he’s reluctantly agreed to wear to appease the café’s cats is of impeccable quality. A burgundy jacket with a black waistcoat over a white shirt, a silver tie around his neck with the end tucked neatly into his waistcoat. His pants match the waistcoat, the black loafers on his feet paired well and the white gloves on his hands really sold the butler look.

“This is so not fair.” I complain, looking from his outfit to mine. “You’re dressed like a model ready for a photoshoot, meanwhile I look like I just stepped out of a magazine hidden under some collage guy’s bed.”

The maid’s outfit the manager of the café dressed me in isn’t quite erotic, but it’s close enough. My uniform is the traditional black and white colour combination one would expect from a maid’s attire, the skirt stopping a little below the halfway point of my thighs, thank god. It’s the cat elements that make this feel kinky, like the black paw prints trialing up one side of the white apron and the white paw prints printed on the black knee high socks. Not to mention my own set of fluffy ears and tail resembling that of a tortoiseshell cat. There’s no forgetting the dainty black collar with a silver bell wrapped around my neck, either.

Usually, Sylus played into my remarks, but not this time. “Seems like an appropriate punishment. This situation is entirely your fault.”

“Excuse you, it’s Faye’s fault. I never would have known about this place if it wasn’t for her.” Maybe I can convince the cats to pass this curse from me to my cousin. “Anyway, let’s just play our parts and get this curse lifted as soon as possible. The last thing I need is for Luke and Kieran to come sniffing around and see me like this. They wouldn’t be allowed to live.”

Finally, one corner of his lips curls up. He still looks pissed, but at least he’s not completely pissed anymore. “That would be a shame. They are rather useful to me.”

The door to the staff lounge opens, and OTTO-Manager hovers inside. It’s an orb-shaped robot, a popular model all over Linkon. Its robotic voice could pass for either male or female.

“Good, you’ve changed. Please tend do your duties well.”

I turn to the robot and adjust a wrinkle in my apron. “As long as we make up for overworking the cats, they’ll release us from this curse, right?”

“That is correct.”

Sighing, I turn to Sylus and put on a determined face. “Sir, I know being grumpy and intimidating is your thing, but for the sake of getting this over with, will you please cooperate?”

Sylus hums and casually flips a coin to entertain himself. “Perhaps. I find those ears rather adorable on you, kitten.”

We’re never going to break this curse.

‘I hate this curse!’

I’m scrubbing the dirty food bowl with so much vigour, I could power the entire café for a full twenty-four hours. My fingers ache from my death grip on the sponge and bowl, but I’m fuming too much to ease up. I wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming out of my ears, both cat and human pairs.

All day, I’ve been slaving away cleaning bowls, changing litter boxes, sweeping and vacuuming hair. Meanwhile, Sylus got to groom, entertain, and tend to the adorable cats.

“What qualifications does that crow even have?” I mumble to myself, setting the clean bowl aside in exchange for another dirty one. “He’s probably bullying the poor things.”

“Do you really think so little of me?”

I yelp and drop the ceramic bowl. It hits the sink with a small bang but luckily, doesn’t shatter. Placing a hand over my heart to steady it, I let out a heavy exhale and look over my shoulder to glare at him. “Can you not sneak up on me, please and thank you?”

Sylus strides over to me, his tail swaying back and forth behind him with every stride. “Didn’t you hear me coming? Those ears of yours must just be for decoration.”

My cat ears flatten, proving him wrong, much to my dismay.

He smirks down at me. “The only kitten I get any joy out of bullying is you.”

With a massive roll of my eyes, I grab a stack of clean bowls and shove them into his arms. “If you’re done putting the cats to bed, then make yourself useful and help me.”

Sylus’ smirk drops, eyes narrowing a little. “Are you ordering me around?”

I bat my eyes up at him, and although I don’t mean to, I practically purr my next words. “You are a butler, aren’t you? You should get used to taking orders, Sir.”

Grabbing the other stack of bowls, I waltz past him and into the pantry, where I take my time sorting the bowls by colour and size before returning them to their proper places. This time, my ears flicker as they pick up on the sound of Sylus’ approaching footsteps.

My swishing tail stills as the pantry door unexpectedly closes. My entire body stiffens as the lock clicks into place. The lock meant to keep the cats out.

I don’t need to look to know that Sylus is trapped in here with me. I don’t even need to question whether or not he did it on purpose. “Is this the part where you kill me for getting you cursed?”

“Oh, so now you admit that this is your fault.” His steps are in perfect sync with the pounding of my heart. He’s moving closer. “Why would I kill you when a better suiting punishment exists?”

I suck in a sharp breath, and regret it instantly. This stupid curse, I’ve found throughout the course of the day, has heightened my senses. Given how small the pantry is, Sylus’ scent is quickly filling the air.

“I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge, kitten.” Sylus’ large body presses into me from behind. I don’t move, not that I have much room to do so. “I may be a butler, but who does a maid answer to?”

A butler. Fuck.

I gasp as his hand wraps around the base of my tail, moan softly as he caresses it in a long, gentle pull right down to the end. He does it a second time. A third. On the fourth, my legs start to feel like jelly.

Sylus hums. “You like that, don’t you, kitten?”

I don’t know why I shake my head, but I do. Maybe my subconscious is trying to deny that this curse might have its perks, or maybe this new type of play is making me shy. Either way, my reaction to his question isn’t honest, and the quirk of his lips tells me he already knows that.

“Oh, kitten.” Lifting a hand to his mouth, Sylus bites down on the tip of his middle finger, using his teeth to pull the pristine glove off. He lets his fall carelessly to the floor. “You’re not telling me the truth, are you?”

I gulp, the muscles in my neck straining from looking up and over my shoulder at him, but his vermillion gaze holds me hostage. I can’t look away. I don’t even want to.

My lungs take in a sharp inhale as he lifts my skirt with his gloved hand. The hand he just freed dips into my underwear, his middle finger slotting between my folds, sliding easily through the slick of my arousal.

“You feel like a liar, kitten.” Sylus groans. Just when I think his little show can’t possibly get any more erotic, he brings his hand to his lips and licks his finger clean. “You taste like one, too.”

Another wave of arousal crashes against my insides like a storm raging over the sea. My breathing quickens, cheeks burning hot and yet, I don’t feel a lick of shame.

His hand returns to my core to gather more evidence of my lie before lifting his hand again. This time, he brings it to my lips. “Open.”

I do, wrapping my lips around his middle finger and easily sucking the digit into my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, use my tongue to clean him off, all while holding his gaze. Sylus’ eyes appear heavy, coated with desire, and it makes my obedience all the more rewarding.

“Good girl.” He praises, pulling his finger from my mouth.

He wraps a hand around my jaw, holding my head still as he leans over and locks his lips with mine. Instinctively I relax my jaw, whimpering as his tongue teases my lips before pushing past. I breathe heavily through my nose as Sylus dominates my mouth, the fingers of his gloved hand sprawling across my navel to anchor me and keep me upright.

When he finally breaks the kiss, my lips are damp and my thoughts reduced to one thing and one thing only.

“Please.” I quietly beg, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. I widen my stance, inviting his fingers to return to me. My tail takes on a mind of its own, curling around his wrist as if to keep him from disappearing. “Sir, please.”

Sylus hums and dips his hand between my thighs again. “That’s better.”

Two of his fingers spear into me, pulling a sharp cry from my lips at the intrusion. Sylus groans and nips at my neck as he works, massaging my inner walls while occasionally teasing a spot he knows will reduce me to rubble. I try to rock against his hand, but he’s expertly figured out how to avoid my reach.

“You’re so naughty, kitten.” His deep voice is right next to my ear, so close and wonderful it makes the pressure building in my gut worse. “Does the manager know what a greedy little maid you are?”

I give up trying to take control of my own pleasure. It’s not getting me anywhere but more frustrated. “The butler certainly knows.”

His chuckle sounds like heaven. “And what should butlers do with naughty little maids, hmm?”

Somehow, I find it in me to smirk up at him. “Put them in their place, obviously.”

I gasp as I’m suddenly taken to the floor, the tile cool beneath my knees and elbows. Sylus positions himself behind me, one hand between my shoulder blades to pin me down while the other works on removing his belt. I shiver at the clanking of the buckle, bite my lip in anticipation of what’s coming. His tail curls around my ankle, and for reasons I can’t explain, I deepen the arch in my back because of it.

“I’ve tamed a lot of cats today, sweetie.” The smirk he aims down at me is foreshadowing just how much trouble I’m about to get into. The cat ears atop his head do nothing mask that. “But I will throughly enjoy teaching this kitten how to behave.”

SFW Masterlist || NSFW Masterlist

#l&ds #lads #lnds #love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #x oc #lnds smut #lads smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace smut

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michaelasworlds-blog · 2 months ago

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Hey Hey!

Today I wanted to share a Human AU that I’ve been thinking about writing (well I’m gonna write it lol) It’s about my OC (Bean) and Vox (Vaughn), it’s set in the 1930s and goes until 1950 (when Vox dies). I’ve written the beginning. Everything you see is literally a WIP, so it’s all under construction (it may change over time) See how ya like it! 😊

Summary: In 1930, Beatrice is a young biracial girl who knew from the start that she wasn’t destined to succeed. However she meets Vaughn, a radio host trying to make it to television, this is her opportunity to make it; to have fame and fortune…

But what price will she pay?

~~~~~~

🚨TRIGGER WARNING: RACISM, HOMOPHOBIA, UNDERAGE MARRIAGE!🚨

Baton Rouge, Louisiana 1930

Vaughn Anderson was a man of many talents, and he was happy to share these talents with his friends and family, at least as long as they had something to give in return.

Thats why when his “friend”, Donahue “Donnie” Matten asked him for help he got on the next train to Louisiana. Vaughn had hoped whatever he wanted was worth it, Louisiana was hotter than Hell; he hadn’t been here since he was being interviewed at WWL; the only crappy radio station they had. The host, some four eyed bastard, tried embarrassing him on the air. He refused to come back, but Tommy, his publicist, convinced him it was a bad idea.

“There he is!” Donnie stepped out of the car.

Vaughn flashed him a fake smile, if he could describe Donnie in one word it’d be “irresponsible”. He was a talented pianist, was from old money and known by everyone in the North then he just disappeared, this is the first time he’s seen him in 17 years.

“Shake a leg Bea!” He yelled behind him.

A young girl came up behind him, she wore a light blue dress that with white gloves and heels to compliment it; the young lady struggled to keep her hat on her head. Her skin was what Vaughn was focused on, it was very tanned; almost a light brown, maybe a little lighter than a paper bag but she was definitely brown. “Sorry papa,” she took the hat off, revealing coily brown hair that reached her shoulders.

“Donnie, finally,” Vaughn laughed, shaking his hand.

“Hope the trip wasn’t too rough,” Donnie pat him on the back. Was he not gonna mention the brown elephant in the room?

“Well I had to ride next to a man that smelled like he showered in booze, I had to sit in this dirty stuffy train station for almost an hour, and I’m back here in this country hick place; so all in all..it was fantastic,” He wore a grin on his face, but his voice was full of sarcasm. “Please get to what you need, I’m a very busy man.”

“Right! This..” Donnie pushes the girl forward. “This is Beatrice.”

“Hello sir, pleasure to meet you,” she smiled.

Vaughn nodded in her direction, “She just got back from boarding school a month ago, she’s great at singing, painting and the violin-“ Donnie was interrupted by Vaughn pulling him to the side.

“What are you doing?” He asked him.

“I have the slightest idea,” Donnie looked smug.

“Just answer this, is she your daughter? Your ACTUAL daughter?” He glanced at Beatrice.

“Quite the looker isn’t she?” He nudged him. Vaughn had to admit Beatrice was beautiful, she didn’t have any blemishes or marks on her face but that could be easily hidden with makeup.

“What is it you want?” Vaughn was done with the run around.

“I want you to take my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

This made Vaughn laugh, “Do you know how illegal that is?! It’s more illegal than her existence!”

“Oh you would know about illegal huh? With your little community that you keep deep in woods, you tell the listeners it’s charity for the the homeless but we all what goes on, it’s also the reason that you’ve NEVER had a woman in your life; you’re some kind of fairy,” Donnie looked him up and down smirking.

Vaughn groaned, Tommy told him about everything; if there were rumors about him being a homosexual, he’d know.

He didn’t have a problem with…Beatrice’s people, some of his followers were of color; they were very resourceful people in nature but not in public. “Say I did marry her? Would there be something in it for me?”

“Vaughn on Air could happen a lot faster, I could talk to my father and he could talk to some people,” Donnie was smug, he had been waiting for something like this; Vaughn Anderson finally needed his help and he finally had something useful to give.

“And..who is this someone?” Vaughn raised an eyebrow.

“Sonny Rogers, that’s who,” Donnie responded.

Vaughn’s eyes widened, Sonny Rogers? THE Sonny Rogers?! He was able to make a star out of anyone, not that Vaughn wasn’t a star but this could be big, bigger than “Vaughn on Air”! He cleared his throat keeping his composure, “Well I have to talk with Tommy but you have a deal.”

“Excellent!” Both the men shook hands before returning to Beatrice, who was in her own little world. “Bea! Come on girl!” Donnie ordered.

She hurried over to him, standing in front of Vaughn. He looked down at her, a smile forming across face, “Enchanté ma chérie.” He kissed her hand, making her blush.

Translation: Pleased to meet you my dear.

Beatrice seemed frozen, just staring at him; “Bonjour,” she managed to say quietly.

Vaughn laughed, “No need to be nervous doll face, I’m just pulling your leg!” Beatrice also laughed.

“I’m going back to the house Bea, don’t cause any trouble; you listen to Mr. Anderson!” Donnie laughed, walking back to his car before driving off.

The two watched the car leave, Vaughn turned to the young lady; “I’m melting out here, how bout we hit the nearest ice cream parlor for some ice cream?”

Beatrice nodded, smiling with excitement, “We can take the trolley into town!” She took his hand practically dragging him to the nearest trolley.

Vaughn listened to the girl yap on and on about nothing, all he could think about was how she was the key to his success, and he was the key to hers. Which means,

She wasn’t going anywhere.

(Tags: @man--eater @artemis1214 @nkirukaj @mythosandthemorbid ) Just tagging ppl I haven’t lol

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judithlevvy · 9 months ago

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teaser <3 possible new fanfic coming

Author’s note: please let me know if you find any grammar/spelling/syntax mistake, cause I’m not English mother tongue 🥰 hope you’ll like it

She kept staring across the street, ready in case any movement called her attention. She could feel his presence in the passenger seat, but she didn’t have the strength to bring herself to care about it: she had given up on it. He would never treat her with the same attitude he had with anyone else on the team and she had made peace with it… sort of.

Okay, it was possible she wasn’t totally fine with it, but she knew she had no control over the way he saw her, so she just gave up. It was a first-time occurrence: she never gave up on anything, especially not if she wanted to prove herself with someone. However, she had become old enough to recognize a losing battle, and trying to change the way Hotch saw her was one of those.

The sound of agent Hotchner clearing his throat drawer her attention back to the present. “You still there, Graham?”

She had to resist the impulse of rolling her eyes, and barely acknowledge him. “Fine, just sleepy”.

“We need to be focused, if you’re too tired I can have you switch turns with Morgan perhaps”.

oh, fantastic. Now it turned out she couldn’t even manage an ordinary stakeout. Her week was getting better by the second. She didn’t even bother meeting his eyes and made her eyes jump from one side to the other of the road. “I’m not going to fall asleep on the job if that’s what you’re suggesting, sir”. and yes, she made it on purpose, the “sir” thing. She was way too polite, but her newfound coldness in front of him could cut like a knife, albeit this came with cutting herself too in the process.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron+hotchner+x+reader #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine

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canirove · 2 years ago

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I don’t like you, Mason Mount | Chapter 5

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"Do I really have to go?"

"Yes."

"But..."

"No buts, Dani. This is our last day here, and we must follow our tradition. We must do it for mum."

"But I don't feel well" I complain.

"You've been saying that for days, but you are lying. Why? I don't know. Maybe you are avoiding that boy you made out with."

And Monica is not wrong. Even though Mason and I have been texting and even facetimed a couple of times, I don't want to cross paths with him.

"I think I caught something."

"You didn't catch anything. The stupidity and stubbornness have been part of you since you were born."

"Hey!" I say, throwing her a slipper.

"See? You are fine. So put on a nice dress and let's go have dinner."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"You know, I still get emotional coming here" my dad says when we walk into the restaurant. This used to be mum's favourite place, the one where we've been having dinner on our last day of holidays since both Monica and I were little. And as a tribute to her, we've kept coming here.

"Mummy, is that..." Lola whispers, pointing to a table to our left.

"Hello there" Mason says. Mason. What the hell is he doing here? And tonight? "What a coincidence!"

"Indeed" my sister says. "It's really nice to see you again."

"You too" he replies. "Sir."

"Hello, Mount" my dad says, shaking his hand.

"And hello to you too."

"Hi" I mutter.

"Why don't you sit with us?" Mason offers.

"Oh, no, we don't want to bother you and your family" Monica replies.

"You won't be" Mason's mum says. "Please, come sit with us."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I'm going to the bathroom" I whisper to my sister. We are almost done with dinner, and I can't wait to get out of here. Because for some odd reason, my family and Mason's are loving each other. They are even talking about meeting in London once we all are back!

"Don't take too long, we haven't had dessert yet."

"I'll try" I say, getting up.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Oh, I'm so sorry" I say after hitting someone when I leave the bathroom.

"It's just me, don't worry" Mason says.

"What are you doing here?"

"Going to the bathroom?" he chuckles.

"And the restaurant? How did you know that we were coming? I never told you anything."

"It’s just a coincidence."

"It is too much of a coincidence."

"But coincidences do happen" he shrugs.

"And with us, they are over. After tonight, we aren't seeing each other ever again."

"Are you sure?" he asks with a smile.

"Yes, I am. I've already told you I'm not interested on anything that has to do with you."

“Then why do you keep replying to my texts?”

“That’s over. I’m deleting your number.”

"Welll, it’s a shame. Your family seems to like me a lot."

"God knows why" I scoff.

“Daniela, why are you so stubborn?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest, something that makes his muscles be more noticeable, making me stare at them. Why am I staring?

"I don't know, my sister says I was born like that” I reply, trying to look somewhere else.

"So you don't want to see me ever again?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure? Because if you say no, this is it. We will not see each other again. You may see me on tv, but that'll be it. I'm not wasting my time anymore."

"What? You are wasting your time?" I chuckle.

"Yes, I am. I am wasting my time with you. Because even though I know I've made you change your mind about me, you are too proud and stubborn to admit it."

"I have not changed my mind about you. I still think you are overrated, not as charming and funny as you believe yourself to be, and definitely not that handsome."

"Ha!" he laughs. "You weren't saying the same the other night when I was between your legs."

"That was a mistake that won't happen again" I say, trying to not raise my voice.

"Keep telling that to yourself” he laughs again. “But you are right, it won't happen again. It's over."

"Good."

"Great."

"Fantastic."

"Splendid!"

"Wonderful!"

"Sensational!"

"Congratulations, you've won this stupid game of words" Mason says, rolling his eyes.

"Thank you" I reply with a big smile.

"Daniela..." he sighs after a few seconds of silence, running a hand through his hair. "I'm only asking once, and this will be it. Are you sure you don't want to see me again? Like, 100% sure?"

100%? Hell no. I'm doubting everything right now. Even my name.

"I need an answer, Daniela. And I need it now. Because my season is about to start, and I need to be focused, not constantly thinking about you."

He is... thinking about me? What?

"Don't look so surprised" he chuckles. "You know I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since Christmas. You have something that... I don't know, I can't explain it. But I'm done fighting. I know you are worth it, but sometimes the best thing you can do is to give up. So tell me. Are you sure you don't want to see me again?"

"I..." Did Mason Mount just confess that he has feelings for me? Me? Why?

“I need an answer.”

And I can’t think straight. The butterflies are moving like never before, threatening to rip apart my chest. But at the same time, I feel so scared… No, not scared. Terrified.

"Well, your silence says it all. We won't see each other again" he says, walking past me.

"No, Mason, wait..." But it is too late. He's already inside the bathroom and he can't hear me. It’s over.

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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huffle-dork · 1 year ago

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Anomaly Found: Alt B̶̨̲̯̥̳̱̌͘r̶̡̖̞̓̋͊̀̑͊̔ͅo̸̦͕̮̗̅̀̅̄͘͜͠͠ḑ̵̛̲̰̋̄͠y̴͙̼͎̥͔͐̑̾͋́̽

Masterpost | More Swapboys

This is a continuation of Alt’s Transition technically so make sure you read that first if you haven’t!

AN: This fic contains medical whump but is not super descriptive when it comes to operations! It also is not scientific what so ever and deals with magic-science bullshit! So don’t take it too seriously lol

This also introduces the Swapboys equilviant to IRIS! And a new character I’ve been very excited about! Enjoy :)

—————————-

Something was wrong. Alt didn’t know what yet but… something was wrong.

At first, the spell seemed to have been working just fine! When he woke up again He felt amazing, he felt strong, he felt right. He felt like he could take on the world- could take on Bro Fantastic himself!

But Magnificent told him to be patient and continue to rest. So the day passed by miserably slow… but at least he got extra cuddles with Glitches. It was so much nicer to cuddle with her now… no extra flesh getting in the way of her laying on his chest.

As night fell though… Alt started feeling strange. The room was wavering in front of him. It was too hot- yet also too cold. A fever…? His limbs felt like static- like something was stealing the strength from his muscles without his permission. He pushed himself up and felt a wave of dizziness nearly knock him over. What the hell?

Did Mag warn him about this? About side effects? …if he did Alt couldn’t remember- couldn’t force his voice to replay in his head, all he could hear was his blood and his heart thumping way too loudly.

The Dooms… they knew the truth about Alt’s body. Maybe they could help? Though they might freak out about the changes that were definitely not there the other day.

He tried to think it through but anxiety was strong in his body and brain. He felt himself glitching- but that felt wrong too! That made Alt panic even more. His glitching never felt wrong- not since he first got his powers. But now it all felt too sharp- too invasive. It felt like it was stealing the breath from him… something that was now as easy to him as breathing.

Would the Dooms even be able to help out if this was magic? He hadn't really shown or explained his glitches or magic to them but- they worked with superheroes, right? They knew of Bro- they… they could help. He just needed to explain. Besides… magic always seemed connected to something physical- something that could be explained and fixed within the body.

Alt made up his mind, grabbing the first coat he can and stumbling to yank it on. He then takes a step forward and glitches, picturing the Doom Clinic.

He nearly runs into the glass doors, slightly bonking his head. Then they slide open as Alt grumbles and rubs the sore spot out. He looks around and… doesn’t recognize the place. Did the Dooms redecorate?

He shakes his head and tries to focus- but it feels almost impossible with how his vision is swimming. He stumbles to what looks like the front desk. A blonde woman blinks in surprise and looks up at him.

Alt can barely stand as he puts his hands on the desk to steady himself.

“I… I need… O-Oliver- Oliver Doom, please!” He slurs, intense eyes boring into the woman’s. “Or well- any of them I guess- but I… I like… O-Oli-“

The woman looks at him with confusion- jumping slightly as Alt jerks his arm, holding it down against his side as he can feel it trying to glitch.

“Um sir…? I-If you’re looking for a specific doctor I… I’m afraid there’s no one here named… Doom, was it?” She replies slowly, carefully watching Alt with a guarded expression.

Alt’s eyes widen. “What…?” He looks around in more panic and curses under his breath. This isn’t the Doom Clinic! The fuck…? He doesn’t normally glitch to places he’s never been before! He doesn’t recognize this place at all. Whatever is happening… it’s affecting his magic.

“S-Sorry,” Alt stammers, tongue feeling thick in his mouth. “Wrong… wrong place-“

“Sir, you look like you need to sit down! I can get someone to look at you and maybe get you some juice if you would just take a seat and-“

“No!” Alt interrupts, gripping his arm tighter as he feels it spasm and feels pixels trying to break off. He can’t glitch here! They’ll throw him into a psych ward or something!

“I’m fine… t-thank you-“ He grits out, trying to stumble back towards the door.

Then the walls and everything around him felt like they are blending into static. Purple seemed to invade the sides of his vision. The sounds around him turned into nothing but white noise. He didn��t even feel when he hit the ground.

———

When Alt next opens his eyes, all he can see is a bright light shining in his face. He grimaces and tries to lift a hand to shield himself but- he can’t move his hand. Alertness hits him like a truck as he pulls on his wrists some more- finding them strapped down to the table.

“T-The fuck?!” He growls, rocking himself to try to get free but he’s- he’s stuck! “What’s going on?!”

There’s sensors stuck to him- under his shirt and attached all over his arms and now he can even feel them on his temples too.

Alt tries to glitch but he shouts out in pain as the action seems to hurt him. Why? Why can’t he glitch??

Panic threatens to eat him alive.

Then, he hears a chuckle- and the table he’s on starts to move. It tilts upwards, until Alt finds himself upright, staring at the expanse of a large white room, medical equipment everywhere. Tall machines and computers he doesn’t recognize.

And he’s met face to face with an older gentleman who smiles at him, but Alt can’t even see his eyes behind his thick glasses.

“Ah! You are awake! Funny, I thought you’d be out for longer~!”

The man had dark black hair with a streak of white right in the middle, the wild locks pulled into a messy braid. He had bright green glasses that could also be googles? But they seemed way too thick to see out of properly. He had a scraggly beard and a white lab coat on… with a logo of an eye with 3 irises but the whites of the eye were colored black. It read SCLERA under the logo.

Alt bares his teeth at the stranger and thrashes a bit in his binds. “The fuck are you?! Where the fuck am I?!”

The man chuckles and adjusts his glasses, smirking at Alt. “Ooh, so touchy already! This will be fun~!”

He goes to grab a clipboard and starts to read it as he paces in front of Alt.

“Well- you were admitted into my care, Mr… Brennan? After you fell unconscious in the lobby of Hope Water Hospital. And the staff there saw some… unusual activity.” He looks back at Alt and the boy shivers, causing his arms to vaguely ripple with glitches, pixels vibrating in the air.

The doctor’s eyes light up as he surges forward, looking at his arm closer. “Yes! Like that! Oh fascinating… absolutely remarkable…!”

Alt felt his blood go cold- he glitched when he fell unconscious? Oh no- oh nononono-!

The man writes down a few more notes before straightening and addressing the glitch again. “But anyways! The Hope Water staff didn’t know how to handle that so they called in the specialists! And that would be me~!”

He lifts up his glasses to rest on his head as he smiles, his brown eyes almost looking gentle. But Alt shivers at the sight. Why does… this man feel familiar to him…?

“Dr. Israh Cornelius is what they call me! I’m a magic analyst here at SCLERA!” The doctor spoke with pride.

“Sclera…?” Alt muttered in confusion. “The hell is that? I-Is it even legal to tie up unconscious patients without their consent?!”

Dr. Cornelius laughed, actually throwing his head back. “Perhaps, if we were dealing with a normal civilian!”

His expression then drops as he looks knowingly at Alt.

“…but you’re not that, are you? Impulse~”

Alt’s breath leaves his lungs as he stares wide eyed at the doctor. “W..what…? H-how-?”

The doctor laughs and goes to pick up something off his office chair, turning to reveal a jacket. He twists his hand to show the back- the signature emblem of the villain Impulse clear for all to see.

“You were wearing this when you were admitted, Mr. Brennan. Not a very smart thing for a villain to wear as a civilian, is it?”

Alt swallowed a lump in his throat. This wasn’t good… but at least whatever ID they found of his was one of his fake ones. Still… This was bad.

“E-Even if I’m a villain you- you can’t just strap me to a table l-like a lab rat!” He argues, trying to struggle some more against the restraints.

Dr. Cornelius just shakes his head as he laughs. “You are a dangerous criminal with unknown powers, Mr. Impulse! This was merely a precaution.”

He strides forward and then grabs the straps to make them tighter. Alt bites back a squeak of pain that wants to slip out of his lips. The doctor whispers to him with hardly contained glee.

“However… a villain like you… will not be missed, will they?” He laughs more, his dark eyes now showing madness. “You could say we are doing the public a service! Keeping you here~!”

“Y-You can’t do that..!”

“Oh but we can, Mr. Brennan… you have no paper trail. No formal records- no sign of any family… you are just perfect! A perfect specimen to study~!”

Alt feels terrified tears in his eyes that he tries to keep hidden, but his shaking voice gives him away. “M-My friends…!”

But then he stops himself, feeling his breath caught in his throat again. He… doesn’t have his friends anymore. No one knows he’s here… not even Magnificent. …he’s really alone.

Now the tears fall as he breathes out. “I… I came here for h-help…! Something was wrong and y-you can’t just-!”

“Oh yes! That!” Dr. Cornelius sang as he turned heel to look at, then wheel over one of the monitors currently hooked up to Alt.

The monitor almost looked like it was showing Alt’s heart rate. But it wasn’t- it was showing something Alt didn’t recognize. Two lines of data were shown on the screen, one line white, the other purple. The purple line was steady, with plips of higher readings here and there. In fact- they seemed to correlate to when Alt felt his skin try to glitch or pixelate. The white line was also steady but with very low readings.

Dr. Cornelius studied the screen some more before addressing Alt. “When you were admitted, we ran some tests. This is an alignment reader- it reads the concentration of magic in your body, and whether or not it is dark or light.”

He points to the purple line, “The concentration of black magic in your body was abnormally high.”

“…okay?”

The doctor smirks, “Black Magic is illegal here in the UK, Mr. Brennan. Well actually, it’s illegal in most countries. Especially at such extreme levels. Honestly- surprised with these levels a magic circle officiant didn’t find you first… lucky us, I guess!” He laughs and then shakes his head.

“In fact- this kind of magic… I’ve really only seen such pure black magic from one source. I’m assuming it’s magic you got from the one you work for, correct?”

Alt shivered- feeling his new scars almost burn against his skin. He bites his tongue though and bares his teeth. “I don’t gotta tell you shit!”

The doctor laughs again, “Oh, I don’t need you too. It can only be him, the one who’s calling himself Magnificent, yes?”

Alt said nothing at first and then mumbled. “…you know too much about all of this, Dr. Creepy.”

Dr. Cornelius shrugs. “All apart of my job, Mr. Brennan!”

He goes back to pick up his notes and look at a collection of more papers on the wall. As Alt focused on it, his blood turned to ice. There was… pictures of him on there- as Impulse. And not only that… he saw Chase on there too- Bro Fantastic. There were dozens of pictures of what Alt could only assume was people this crazy doctor was aiming to study. Super powered people… things he didn’t understand but was determined to. He swore he saw the blurry image of a green gray cat mask among the pictures.

“Anyways, Mr. Brennan! That black magic was attacking your internal magic system- the source of power that runs the magic through your body. Black magic is known to do that. It will ‘eat’ any possible light magic it can find until it corrupts all the magic completely orrrr sucks the life clean out of ya!” Dr. Cornelius said a little too cheerily.

“W-What?!” Alt exclaimed. Magnificent never warned him about that!

Dr. Cornelius chucked, “Don’t fret, lad. We siphoned that out of ya real quick! So, see? We already helped you, just like you wanted!”

Alt shakily bit his lip before asking quietly, “So then… I-I can go home… right?”

The doctor’s smile turned impossibly cruel.

“I’m afraid not, Alt. We have much we need to learn from you~!”

Something clicked from the table below him and then suddenly that something is jabbing him in the neck. The room almost instantly starts to dip and sway as Alt feels his eyes roll up into his head and his body gives out, falling unconscious again.

———

Alt opens his eyes to find that now he’s somewhere new. He’s behind glass in a tiny white room. He’s not tied down-

Adrenaline courses through him- maybe he can glitch out now! He tries to glitch- and it feels like his insides are on fire. It’s like whatever energy he was preparing to use to glitch had erupted two-fold, making his entire body feel overloaded. He yells out and crashes down to the ground. There’s a tug on his foot and he can see now, he’s strapped to the wall by some sort of cord, a cuff around his ankle. What’s even worse is he’s barefoot- and in a completely new set of clothes, a dingy set of green scrubs, almost like hospital wear. Alt starts to panic again, realizing his throat and his scar are exposed. He touches light fingers to his scar as he pushes himself up. He feels a shiver go down his spine as he hears familiar laughter.

Dr. Cornelius is smirking at him through the window.

“Nice try there, Alt! But I can’t have ya glitching before we do some proper tests on ya~!”

Alt bares his teeth like a feral animal, pixels flying around him but not able to settle in one place. “How are you stopping me from glitching?!”

The doctor smirks and lifts up a tiny device in his hand. “Electromagnetic pulses. Normally these have no effect on humans… However, we’ve already established you’re very special, Alt.”

The boy just glares at the doctor, wanting nothing more than to strangle that smug look off his face. However, Dr. Cornelius just uses the silence as an excuse to keep talking, pacing back and forth in front of the window to Alt’s cell.

“Did you know it’s a common misconception that the human body produces electricity like that of a machine? It mimics and works as a circuit would, but our bodies don’t carry charges of electrons between synapses. No no- inside our cells there’s a chemical gradient of ions that create a difference in charge between the inside and outside of the cell membrane! That mimicry of electricity as ions pass between each cell membrane is what keeps, say, your heart pumping. However there is research that a human body can produce almost 100 watts of electricity at rest… however you, Alt, seem capable of so much more~!

It seems your body has been adapted to not only conduct electricity better, but also produce it better than normal human beings. In fact, it’s like you actually have that fabled current running through your veins… a constant flow of electric magic that fuels your glitching!

So an EMP blast seems to disrupt that electric flow within you… overloading it enough to stop you from glitching. For now at least!” The doctor laughs, grinning like an excited school kid, “There’s so many tests for us to run! You’re going to provide us with such good data, Mr. Brennan~!”

Alt yells in anger at this, trying to rush at the window. The doctor hardly looks phased as he presses a button on his remote- and something shoots out of the wall behind Alt. Two robotic arms with ends just like the cuff on Alt’s ankle lash out and clamp onto his wrists, yanking the glitch off his feet and slamming him into the back wall. Alt struggles as best as he can but the arms have him locked against the wall tight.

Dr. Cornelius lets out a delighted laugh, “Already so eager to start! That’s what I like to see in a subject!”

“N-No, you psycho! Let me go!” Alt tries to protest.

The doctor looks back to one of his colleagues that Alt can barely see. He nods to them, “Start the procedure.”

The other doctor nods then flares out hands in front of… an orb? Their hands glow white and soon the cuffs on Alt do too. As they glow, Alt starts to feel like his energy is waning. Pretty soon, he slumping in his binds, his fighting getting lazy and then altogether stopping. He has to fight to keep his head up and his eyes open. He vaguely notices the glow on his cuffs seems to be turning green blue- the color of his magic.

Dr. Cornelius checks a monitor next to the window and then gestures to the other doctor. “That’s enough.”

The glowing stops as they take their hands away from the orb. Alt’s head falls sharply but he quickly tries to pick it back up so he can glare at Cornelius. “Wha… d’you… do?” The glitch slurs, hating the feeling of his body feeling almost empty… and cold.

Israh adjusts his glasses and smiles. “A simple draining spell! One we probably won’t be using often since we want to study your magic as it works within you but~! There’s one thing we need to see first before proceeding with those tests!”

He lifts the remote again and presses another button.

Alt immediately starts to scream, his body locking up as waves of electricity crash back into his body. His muscles attempt to spasm despite having nowhere to go, his neck craning back like he can escape the onslaught. It feels wrong! Usually if he comes across rogue electricity he can absorb it into his own… but with none in his body- the electricity has nothing to merge to. So it courses painfully into his body, attempting to mesh with his magic but not being able to. It’s agony. He feels his skin sparking and burning- tears trying to be shed but steaming upon impact with the bright sparks.

It feels like an eternity before it gets shut off. The cuffs on his wrists release and Alt falls heavily to the floor, still twitching and spasming from the leftover electricity. It feels impossible to think, everything he feels is pain. The energy in his body has been replaced with hot sparking rods that are quickly cooling down, leaving him completely spent. Alt wheezes brokenly, eyes wide and not able to focus, tears falling down his cheeks as he struggles to regain control over his limbs.

“Well?” The doctor's smarmy voice coos, “Alt, why don’t you try to use your magic for us, hm?”

“C…c-can’t…” Alt croaks, hardly able to grip his shaking hand into a fist.

Dr. Cornelius frowns at this, tapping his pen against his face. But then he smiles and scribbles down some notes. “I see! Pure electricity doesn’t have the same properties as the electric magic you produce, so you can’t purely substitute that!”

“Tell me, Alt, have you ever used a source of electricity to fuel your magic when it was low?”

Alt attempts to move his head to glare at the doctor. Dr. Cornelius frowns, and lifts up the remote, one eyebrow rising high over his glasses. “Or, should we give you some magic back and see for ourselves?”

The glitch winces and curses quietly before muttering, “…y-yes… but only o-once… I- I didn’t think it would work but… i-it gave me enough e-energy to glitch home…”

The doctor nods and writes down some more, “Fascinating! It seems if you have some magic left in your system that magic can then translate pure electricity to match its own!”

He then looks over his notes to smile at Alt as the glitch’s vision dims and sways. “Well! Let’s pause for a bit, hm? Feel free to rest your eyes, Mr. Brennan~!”

————

Alt lays there on the floor for a bit, trying to get his brain to work. He needs to think of a way out of here! Because help wasn’t coming… there had to be some way… something these scientists hadn’t thought of.

He glances up to see Dr. Cornelius isn’t observing him. Guess he decided to take a break too. Maybe Alt can attempt to do something…

He listens to the room around him… and catches onto the buzzing of the lights above.

Alt still didn’t really get how his powers worked, he really only understood his glitching. But… if what the doctor was saying was true and he has electric magic… and his body could basically disappear for an instant when he glitched… could he glitch into something that had an electric current?

…if there was any time to try this it was now. He can’t let these lunatics turn him into a fucking lab rat. He grips his hands into fists, feeling his magic zap around him. Guess they gave some of it back… their mistake.

In a flash, Alt glitched out of his cuff and in a shock of blue-green electricity rocketed into one of the lights in the cell. The burst of energy was enough to shatter the light, making the other lights and the machines below flicker from the electricity lingering in the room.

God! This felt so weird- but… not too different from glitching. He was just- glitching for longer. Which means he couldn’t keep this up for long- not with how spent he was already. He needed to find a path out of here, and fast.

He let his magic feel out a path on the wires and started to follow it, making machines and lights glitch and flicker and burst. An alarm started to blare but Alt only pushed himself faster, faster, faster-!

Suddenly, everything went dark and it felt like Alt hit a wall. No no! They turned off the power! With nowhere else to go Alt was shot out of another light and onto the cold tile floor of what looked like a hallway.

He coughed and curled up, his body feeling like the wires he fired. His skin sparked, pixels sizzling off him in a confusing array.

Quiet clapping echoed down the hall before that awful laugh filled Alt’s ears again.

“Very impressive, Alt! You damn near almost reached the exit!” Dr. Cornelius praised. He then bends down by the trembling boy as Alt tries to scoot away, fear clear in his eyes.

Dr. Cornelius’s smile doesn’t waver as he lashes out and pulls Alt in close by his shirt. But his voice drops to a dangerous whisper as he leans in closer. “You’re not getting away from me that easily, glitch.”

Then, Alt felt another painful round of shocks set his body ablaze- until his vision dimmed once again to black.

————-

He was back in that tiny room. Was it still the same night he got captured…? It was hard to tell with how much he was dipping in and out of consciousness…

He groaned and sat up, rubbing at his head. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end, the air still feeling electric. Alt felt a shock of panic run up his spine as he felt something cold and smooth around his neck. Was this… a fucking shock collar?!

Alt’s body sparked with anger and as he saw that all too familiar silhouette in the window, he rushed at the glass, anger controlling his body. The doctor hardly flinches as he clicks something on that damned remote, sending Alt crashing to the floor, crying out and clawing at the collar as it shocks him.

Dr. Cornelius tsks in a disappointed manner. “What a temper… really, Alt? We shouldn’t be playing these games.”

Alt gritted his teeth ferally to snap at the doctor, “Y-You shouldn’t be collaring people like they’re animals, you sick fuck!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t behave like one.” Dr. Cornelius countered. Alt growled, eyes glowing with slight power. The doctor shook his head and then started to flip through his notes.

“Well, since you’re awake again, we can move onto the next test!”

“W-wait…!”

The doctor pauses and tilts his head at the glitch.

“I… I have a q-question,” Alt wheezes out. Dr. Cornelius raises his head, not used to hearing the glitch be anything but hostile towards him. Alt glares but continues. “You… you said before… that the… the magic circle should have found me… why… why didn’t you take me… to them?”

Alt heard vaguely of the magic circle from Mag. He said they were a bunch of foolish covens trying to govern their fellow magicians. Trying to put a cap on magic potential and capture any one who misuses magic. Alt thought they sounded almost like magical police... But he could hear the disdain plain in his mentor’s voice when talking about the circle.

That same disdain seemed to be present in the doctor as he pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.

“Pah! The magic circle…” He put down his notes as he paced slightly in front of Alt’s window again. Seemed to be a habit of his.

“They might be the magic authority here but their methods are medieval- all based in older traditions and the feel of it all. Barely any rhyme or reason- no desire to study and push limits- merge magic with what can make it even more useful! Make it accessible for everyone! Not just the special ‘elite’. They wouldn’t do a damn thing with you except slap you on the wrist and monitor you. Bloody waste if you asked me. They’d let any villain run around if they are ‘blessed’ like they are.” Dr. Cornelius growled. He stops to look down at Alt with burning eyes.

“They refuse to see magic as something that can harmonize with science! They refuse to see that magic can be bent to our level- that it can be understood at a level we humans know better than any other living thing! They’re blind… blind to the ways we can make magic better! How we can provide anyone… everyone with magic!”

Alt blinks and then laughs darkly. “God… you’re even crazier than Mag! I might be a novice… but even I know that magic s-shouldn’t be tampered with like this…! There’s a reason it’s not given to everyone…”

Dr. Cornelius matches his laugh and shakes his head. “Oh Alt… even without meeting the circle they’ve already corrupted your mind! You are as blind as them… but no matter! I’ll help you see your potential~ the potential of mixing science with magic!”

The doctor giggles and looks at Alt with those hungry eyes of his. “In fact~ this is such a great transition to our next test!”

He grabs his notes again and then gestures to something in Alt’s cell. Alt tiredly pushes himself up to look back- seeing a camera that seems to focus in on him. He shudders.

“That’s a WITNES camera- something SCLERA is developing to go public very soon! It’s a perfect merge of magic and tech… in fact- it’s been helping us to observe you better than ever, Alt!”

The doctor clicks on his remote and the right wall of Alt’s enclosure flashes to life, showing a wall full of text and data.

“Our WITNES camera can detect the fluctuations of magic within you- helping us see when you might glitch or go haywire~! They also have been monitoring your vitals so we don’t have to keep you hooked up to machines- and it can even monitor your emotions!”

“W-What? That’s… that’s insane!” Alt whispers, backing away from the wall with the camera. “You wanna just- give these to the public? That’s a crazy violation of privacy!”

Dr. Cornelius shrugs with a laugh, “Oh nowadays, this kind of stuff is hardly hidden anymore! And we offer the chance for our consumers to feel safe and protected!” He shakes his head, “But, enough of a pitch- our next test is gonna involve you interacting with our WITNES camera, Alt! We want to see how your magic merges with ours! If they’re compatible!”

Alt raises an eyebrow and looks back at the camera. He shivers as he sees the lens shrink and focus on him. That thing gives him a horrible feeling.

“… how’re you gonna do that? You can’t just… hook me up to it-“ Alt mutters.

The doctor chuckles, “Oh Alt, you misunderstand! We know now that you can glitch into tech- so that’s what you’re gonna do! See if you can glitch into the camera!”

The glitch shudders again and is about to bite out a retort when he stops and looks back. …this could be another chance to escape. If he can get past this thing he can try to follow the power source out again. But… they also must realize that’s what he’ll try to do. Is this a trap…? But… What can a camera do to him anyways?

Dr. Cornelius smirks. “I know what you’re thinking, Alt. And, I’ll make a deal with you!” Alt’s head snaps back to look at the doctor, his eyes wide. “If you can overpower our camera and get past it back into the power grid, well… that would be such an impressive sight I would consider letting you go~!”

Alt’s eyes widen more. He… seems overly confident in the camera. But, Alt was determined to get out of here. He could take a stupid camera! His eyes glowed bright as he glared at the doctor. “Alright… fine.”

Dr. Cornelius grins and the cuff on Alt’s leg snaps off, as well as the shock collar. Alt watches as the doctor shuts off the wall and other electronics, leaving only the camera powered on, it’s green light blinking at Alt. Alt gritted his teeth and then in a zip of green blue magic he glitched into its systems.

….

Something is wrong.

Diving into the camera feels nothing like going through the lights- it's harsher, feels like a strong pressure is pushing down on him at all angles. Like sharp needles sinking into his being. Alt tries to push through, tries to find a weakness, a kink in the system. But, the more he pushes the more this strange energy seems to push back.

Then, it overpowers him, swallowing him whole.

Alt crashes out of the camera and back onto the ground, shaking and spasming like crazy. Purple electricity crackles around his limbs as he shakily pushes himself up. As he looks out towards the doctor, his eyes are quickly filling with pulsing purple magic.

Dr. Cornelius grins manically, “Oh darn! I forgot to mention~ all SCLERA tech is powered by our patented Black magic core~! Something we perfected thanks to that lovely boss of yours!”

Alt whimpers, heaving in panic, even as anger flares wildly in his body. That fucking bitch tricked him! This feels wrong- it feels way worse than whatever came over him the night he was captured. It’s more invasive, the corruption digging into every weakness in his body and driving itself in. He bends over against the ground with a cry of pain as waves of magic crash against him, trying to overwhelm him. Trying to take over his magic, his mind-! He yells out and half crashes against the floor entirely, digging his head and nails into it, trying to fight whatever this is off.

All of sudden, he goes still, frozen like a statue as the purple magic completely fills his eyes. The monitor Dr. Cornelius is observing suddenly blares with alarms, the screen flashing. Alt’s black magic reading has reached dangerous, uncontrollable levels! Dr. Cornelius gasps and drops his clipboard, watching the testing room with wide eyes.

The tile beneath Alt suddenly cracks and splits, purple magic rippling across the floor. The debris floats up around him, suspended in glowing purple hues. Alt rises up like someone trapped in a dream, his head lulling limply on his shoulders. The magic crackles around him in a powerful display, bolts of electricity blasting tiles off the wall, destroying screens and equipment. Quietly, Alt starts to giggle and then fully bursts into crazed laughter, his veins darkening and glowing with purple power. As he laughs, he seems to bring up one of his hands to look at, gazing at it as if it was new. He stretches his fingers and then grins, laughing louder as the magic continues to zap and sizzle and destroy the room around him.

The sound of a squeaked shoe has the possessed glitch’s head snapping towards the noise. His eyes lock onto the terrified face of Dr. Cornelius, trying to back away from the window. Alt grins and in a flash is in front of the glass, pressing his hand against it. He tilts his head inhumanly at the doctor, his soulless eyes leaking magic like electric tears.

“Is this what you wanted, ̶̳̀D̷̯̏o̷̮̊ć̶͜t̶̗̕ỏ̶̯r̴̖͒?̵̟͝”̸̨̂ ̸̦̐ He giggles, gripping nails into the glass as electric bands of magic shoot out and crack against it, shattering it completely.

There’s a chorus of screams as the other SCLERA workers try to flee. Dr. Cornelius yells out as the glass explodes on him, cutting and slicing into his skin. He quickly looks around, then hightails it to his desk in the back corner, slipping on the glass as he runs. He quickly rummages through drawers, throwing contents and notes everywhere, muttering desperately, “C’mon! C’mon! I… I have to have that stupid thing somewhere!!”

Alt rises off the ground as the magic surrounds him. His body glitches and contorts as he giggles and slowly approaches the doctor.

“Oh D̴̙̀ṙ̸̠.̷̬͒ ̸̬̐C̶͚̈́ó̷̢r̵͇̈́ṋ̶͝ę̵͘l̷͈̋i̵̬̽u̷̖͛s̶͎͗~̵̺̓!̷̜̿ Where are you going? Didn’t you want to have some f̶͙̲̯͎͇̙̥̂̈́͋̿̂ȗ̷̗̊̽͑ͅṋ̴̄̉?̴̢̟̙͙͚̱̩̈́̀͑̈́͊͝?” Alt laughs, his voice sounding darker and racked with static. He barely sounds like himself.

Dr. Cornelius is sweating bullets as he looks through the drawer of objects they obtained from the magic circle. He then cries out in elation as he finds what he’s looking for, holding it out towards the approaching glitch.

It’s an amulet of some sort, a chunk of amethyst in the center. Alt seems to freeze, his eyes widening.

Cornelius grits his teeth. He hates having to resort to the methods the circle uses but… desperate times. Once they had Alt contained, they can figure out a better way to control this… a better, more scientific way.

He sighs and then starts to mutter a spell, one they haven't had to use since starting the WITNES project. Luckily, he still remembered the words.

“Creature of black magic, your minds, your purposes, your plans, do we cause you to bend! With my mind do I seize your minds, With my power, do I seize your power. Do ye with your thoughts follow my thought. I place your hearts in my control: Come ye, directing your way after my course!”

Alt lets out a choked exhale of breath, his body locking up against his will. The magic starts to recede and die down, but still crackles around his body and keeps him airborne.

Dr. Cornelius shoves the amulet forward and barks out, “Now, Cease!”

Alt crashes to his knees as the magic dissipates and drops him. His head falls forward, his pure purple eyes wide and blank. He looks like a broken doll as Dr. Cornelius cautiously makes his way over.

He kneels down by the boy and tilts up his chin, studying his eyes and the way the magic flickers within.

“Fascinating…” The doctor breathes, slowly regaining his smile. “Alt, can you hear me?”

“Yes…” The glitch answers breathlessly, his voice still having a slight echo.

“Are you going to listen to me now?”

“...we are subjected to your will, Sorcerer…” Alt replies, his eye twitching slightly but the rest of him remains slack.

Dr. Cornelius chuckles, shaking his head. “Excellent. Now… subject, did you find this host worthy? Were your energies able to converge well?”

The magic in Alt’s eyes crackles and glows brighter as he suddenly grins, giggling quietly. “This vessel was very easy to corrupt! The darkness smells strong on it… but it also swims in its blood. Its magic meshes well with ours- control of it was so easy~!” He giggles slightly louder, madness leaking into his words. But, his voice echoes and cracks, sounding completely different, like something else is speaking for him. “Its magic is so different from ours yet has so much potential! We can cause so much destruction with it! Corrupt many souls, raze cities and scorch the earth~!! Ha h̶̥̄a̸̹͑h̴̡̒a̵̗̽h̸̯̍a̵̩͗!̷̯̓!̸̡͌”

“Enough.” Dr. Cornelius snaps. The subject’s giggles cut off immediately as it looks out at the doctor with blank eyes again. “Your power only exists here thanks to us, you will follow our will and let us direct your purpose, understand?”

“...yes…” The subject breathes weakly. He shudders, a wave of nausea rolling over him, skin feeling too warm, sweat starting to drip down his forehead. His hands shake and he sways in the doctor’s grip.

Dr. Cornelius adjusts his glasses then commands Alt quietly. “Sleep, subject. Let’s see what use we can find for you…”

And Alt crumbles to the floor, once again falling back into darkness.

----------

Alt struggled to open up his eyes, bright light searing his vision. Then, he realized he recognized that light. It was the same one he woke up under when he was first brought here.

He tries to move his wrists, and finds he’s once again strapped down to a table. He holds back a whimper, his body feels incredibly weak and spent. The ordeal he went through with the camera had been plaguing his sleeping mind- the feeling of being controlled by that freaky magic… he didn’t want that to happen ever again!

He heard voices talking and quickly shuts his eyes, pretending to still be passed out.

He hears Dr. Cornelius, talking to another doctor.

“It took a lot of work but I think I found the perfect solution for VARIBL 11220! Letting the black magic of our machines corrupt his own is key… the display he showed was phenomenal! It could rival what we saw of VARIBL 1317! …but we need a way to control it. This device should infuse his magic with some of ours, and link his body to follow the orders of whoever powers the chip! We just need to make sure the magic has some sort of traceable signal so the artificial magic we’re working on should work! A much more elegant solution than using that amulet and spell... This can put him under our control in mere seconds~!”

Alt’s heart threatened to stop, his blood running cold. Are they planning on turning him into some sort of weapon? A puppet for them to use??

His eyes snap open and he immediately tries to thrash against his restraints, his eyes wild with panic. Dr. Cornelius was over his arm, looking like he was about to cut it open with a scalpel. He jumps back then tsks, looking annoyed.

“Fuck…! He just needed to stay asleep a bit longer!”

Alt bares his teeth ferally, pixels buzzing off him and electricity sparking around him in dangerous arcs. “I-I won’t become your puppet, Cornelius…! I refuse to be a-anyone’s puppet!”

Dr. Cornelius snarls and clicks on the remote, shocking Alt with increased intensity. Alt screams and screams, pulling against his bindings even as they seem to melt against his skin. The abuse keeps going until Alt slumps limply to the table, skin smoking and breath coming out in harsh ragged bursts.

“Hold him down,” Cornelius barks to his assistants. There’s seem to be some hesitation but soon two sets of hands are holding down Alt’s left arm. Alt chokes on a sob, shaking his head as he tries to keep from passing out again. “Please…! Please s-stop…!”

The mad doctor giggles as he picks up his scalpel again, going over to Alt’s side. He studies the boy then pets back his hair some, almost like a father would.

“You know Alt… you remind me of a subject I had so very long ago… one of my firsts actually!”

Alt screams as the scalpel cuts into his skin. The hands keep him from bucking against the restraints.

“She had the same kind of fire in her that you have… similar hair color and skin tone too. Then again- a very common combination!” He chuckles and digs in deeper. “She had similar powers to you too! Think her name was… Annie or something like that.”

Alt’s eyes flew open and widened. No- no he… he couldn’t have… could he…?

The thought is quickly thrusted from his mind as Dr. Cornelius seems to insert something in his arm. It feels foreign and wrong and Alt screams and screams, fighting with everything he has to get out- get it out!!!

It seems to latch onto something he can’t quite explain- but it’s agony and it hurts- it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!! Alt feels like something is grabbing hold of his magic within the pain. He sobs and arches his back to try to get away from the feeling. More hands push him down and keep him still.

He feels the doctor stitching up his skin as he cries, pleading with the doctor to stop, please stop!

Then, Alt seems to hear something new. It sounds like… magic. Searing magic blasting away at walls, screams of terror and… growls. Familiar growls- they sound like the panthers.

Alt feels delirious relieved tears flow from his eyes as he starts to laugh. The doctors seem to pause and start to look towards the noise that is only getting louder. Some start to let Alt go and back away, fear clear in their eyes.

The glitch makes sure to find Cornelius’s eyes as he grins, whispering to him. “You… you’re f-fucked…! You’re so fucked…!” He giggles wildly.

Dr. Cornelius’s eyes widen and he curses, trying to finish what he started.

Then the door to the operating room explodes with green and purple fire. Black masses start to tackle doctors left and right, causing chords of agony to echo throughout the room.

Magnificent emerges through the smoke, sweeping out an arm and glowing like an avenging Angel. Or perhaps, more like a devil. He bares his fangs at the doctor still looming over Alt.

“Release my Apprentice, Sclera scum!”

Dr. Cornelius tries not to show his fear as he lifts up his hands and steps away from Alt. “Well hello, Marvin! It’s been such a long time-!”

The doctor gets cut off as green magic surrounds his throat and lifts up upwards, choking him. Magnificent’s eyes are bright with angry fire as he spits out. “You do not get to say that name, Israh Cornelius! You and this fucking facility killed that man a long time ago!”

He grips his hand further, sick satisfaction burning in his stomach as he hears cracks- but then he hears the whimper of the boy behind them. Mag looks back to see his bleeding and burned apprentice and he pauses.

Then he growls and uses his magic to throw Israh hard against the wall. In a wave of magic he appears back over by Alt and sears off his restraints. He picks up the delirious boy and whistles, his panthers all looking up and then bounding over to his side.

Magnificent looks down coldly at Cornelius as he snarls, “Killing you right now is more than you deserve. And this place could be… useful to me. But know this, doctor, if you and this wretched company touch my apprentice again, I’ll make it look like an accident when I raze this place to the fucking ground.”

He then snaps and in a swirl of tv static, him, Alt and the panthers all disappear.

———

The trip to wherever they are now was a confusing mix of colors and voices that Alt hardly remembers. His vision dipped in and out of darkness as he felt himself be moved and looked over. But, this time it felt… different. It felt safe. Eventually he allowed himself to close his eyes and drift.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in a familiar room. One with white walls that had a bright stripe of yellow. Alt smiles faintly, recognizing the sight of Ollie’s office at the Doom clinic. He then hears the faint sound of shuffling and looks out towards the other side of the room.

His eyes widen as he sees Magnificent, sitting in the visitor’s chair. Except, he was in his civilian disguise. Alt had only seen it a few times but…

“M-Mag…?” Alt whispers, his voice raw and hoarse.

Mag seems to startle slightly then relaxes when he sees Alt. “Alt… you’re awake… that’s good.” A tiny head poked itself out from behind Mag’s leg and meowed, and Alt recognized the spotted nose of Lucky in her tinier cat form.

The glitch smiles dazedly at the sight of Lucky but then blinks several times at his mentor, as if he can hardly believe he’s there and not an illusion. “You… you saved… me?” He slurs out.

Magnificent snorts and turns his head, “Of course I did. I just… only wished I had found you sooner.”

“I… kinda thought you’d just… leave me to figure it out on my own.” Alt laughs slightly, “ Figured you’d… lecture me about how we have to look out for ourselves…”

The dark magician purses his lips and grips his hands into tight fists. “…if I hadn’t acted… you’d be a pawn in Sclera’s game. A plaything for them to abuse and use at their leisure.” His eyes darken, “I may be a villain… but I wouldn’t subject anyone to their cruelty. And especially not my apprentice…”

Alt stares at Magnificent, then can’t help but laugh breathily. “I guess… you really do care about me… huh?”

Mag seems to wince. “…it’s a new thing for me… I haven’t cared about anyone for a long time… I thought- I had lost the ability to.”

Alt nods to this, though he’s not quite sure he understands. How can someone lose the ability to care?

Then, all that happened to him crashes down on his mind, especially as he glimpses the bandages on his left arm. “Mag… they- they put s-something in me-!”

Magnificent raises a hand to stop him. “I already disabled it Alt. They can’t hurt you with it.”

“I… I can still feel it though-“

The magician shrugs, “The doctors here said they wanted to remove it but whatever sclera did… they weren’t sure they could do it without damaging your nerves…. They didn’t want you to lose the ability to use your arm.”

Alt swallows shakily and grips at his wrist.

Mag’s eyes glow slightly with determination. “But even if it’s there- I shut it off. I swear to you, Alt, they won’t be able to use it on you.”

Alt seems to relax, slumping against the bed with a relieved sigh. He pushes back his hair, staring up at the comforting yellow stripe.

The room is quiet for a beat before Magnificent speaks up. “…you should focus on resting, Alt. The doctors seem very fond of you, especially that one in the yellow… they’ll keep you safe.”

Alt sighs and nods.

The room falls back into semi-awkward silence. Then, a slightly wet nose is poking against Alt’s hand. He blinks down to see Lucky’s eyes blinking up at him. She seems to have a big bundle in her mouth that she nudges against his hand.

Alt struggles up and goes to grab it- and gasps as he sees it’s… it’s his bandana and his jacket. Dr. Cornelius took them away but-

“Lucky was very excited to have found those during our raid,” Magnificent says, smirking slightly. “She wouldn’t let them go.”

The glitch laughs and pets Lucky’s head. Then he quickly looks back up and grins at Mag. “Hey! You’re using my nicknames for them!”

Mag blinks and then messes with his hair, looking away. “Well… they are easier to tell apart that way… and your names do… seem to fit them well.”

The door to the room slides open, cutting off their conversation. The person coming in seems distracted with the clipboard he’s carrying. Then he looks up and breaks into a wide smile, hurrying over to Alt and giving him a huge hug.

“Alt! Oh thank god! You’re awake!” Oliver cries. Alt feels his face heat up slightly as he stiffens in the hug. He awkwardly pats Oliver’s back and laughs. “Y-Yeah dude- I’m okay!”

Oliver quickly lets go and seems to blush himself, waving his hands. “Ack! Sorry! That was… w-wildly unprofessional! It’s just- when Mr. Macaodha brought you in- you… you were in such horrible shape!”

At the sound of that surname Alt looks back at Mag and raises an eyebrow. The magician shrugs with a smirk.

Oliver lifts up his glasses, seeming to wipe at his eyes. He then smiles brightly at Alt, sighing out, “I’m just so glad you’re okay…”

Alt felt warmth surge through his chest. When he was captured by those bastards… they really made him think that he was all alone- that no one really cared for him, now that he wasn’t around his friends anymore.

But… that wasn’t true, was it? Even a villain like him… had people who cared about him.

Alt hid his face as he felt tears come to his eyes. When he changed the past… what would happen to the people he cares about now?

As Oliver checks over Alt’s vitals and asks him questions about his condition, Magnificent leans back to observe. Lucky loops back around to sit under Mag’s legs and he pets her head lightly.

His eyes lingered to the bandaged up arm on his apprentice. That device Sclera planted… he wasn’t going to let them take Alt.

But, perhaps… the thing could be of use to him down the road. Only as a last resort though. Mag smiled as he studied the boy. He had this cub wrapped tightly around his finger, his loyalty only getting stronger.

Not much longer now… once Alt was stronger, the real fun could begin~.

#swapboys #hufflewriting #dr. israh Cornelius #alt anti #black magic #sclera #medical whump #lab rat #jacksepticeye #swapboys au #swap magnificent #magic corruption #this was super fun cuz it’s setting up a bunch of stuff I’m excited to explore later!!#establishes some world building and magic bullshit that just fun for me to think of #readswapboys

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cat-and-cazio · 2 months ago

Text

I novelized Ten's regeneration scene!

Everything hurt.

The cuts on his face and the glass behind his ear and even the remaining pressure from the impact of his fall hurt.

The Doctor lifted himself with his arms and noticed several small dots of red on the white tile below him.

Blood.

He held up the gun he had been clutching, but immediately set it down.

Who would he aim it at?

The Master?

The Lord President?

The other Time Lords in the white space that had appeared?

The Lord President, the Time Lord in front of the white space, stepped forward and declared, “My lord Master. My lord Doctor. We are gathered for the end.”

The Doctor stared and watched as blood dripped from his nose onto the floor, the red dots multiplying.

He stammered, and then said, “Listen to me. You can’t-”

“It is a fitting paradox that our salvation comes from our most infamous child,” the Lord President interrupted.

Infamous? I’m not infamous…

Oh. They’re talking about him.

“He’s not saving you. Don’t you realize what he’s doing?”

The Master, the Time Lord with the bleached hair and the black hoodie, shouted, “Hey! No, hey! That’s mine. Hush. Look around you. I’ve transplanted myself into every single human being. But who wants a mongrel little species like them? Because now I can transplant myself into every single Time Lord! Oh, yes, Mr. President, sir, standing there all noble and resplendent and decrepit. Think about how much better you’re going to look as ME!”

The Lord President held up his right hand, on which he was wearing a gauntlet made of dull, gray metal. It began glowing.

All around, the Master clones started to blur and change size. Eventually, every one of them was human again.

“No! Don’t! Stop it!”

The Lord President straightened his posture and said, “On your knees, mankind.”

All the humans around the room kneeled, each with a terrified expression.

The Master, still looking angry, commented, “No, that's fine, that's good because you said salvation. I still saved you, don't forget that.”

The light in the room brightened.

“The approach begins,” dryly reported the Lord President, with a look of stern concentration.

The ground shook like there was an earthquake.

The Doctor's pulse sped up.

Was he shivering, or was that the floor?

He didn't know.

He somehow managed to stand up, despite all the pain still shooting throughout his body. He felt blood run from his nose, over his lips, and then drip onto his shoe.

“Approach of what?” the Master said in a frantic tone.

The Doctor grabbed the train of his trenchcoat and said, all in one breath, “They're not just bringing back the species! It's Gallifrey, right here, right now!”

Wilfred, the old man wearing the scuffed brown jacket, ran into the room.

“Come on, get out of the way! Get out of the way! Doctor-”

Someone banged on the door from one of the radiation booths.

“Someone help me! Please!”

A person in a white lab coat was stuck inside.

Wilf ran into the open booth and pressed a large red button.

“It's all right! I've got you!” he said.

The booth holding the person in the lab coat swung open, and a buzz and a click came from the booth Wilf had run into.

The Doctor, filled with adrenaline, desperately shouted, “Wilf! Don't!”

I can't lose yet another friend.

“This is fantastic, isn't it? The Time Lords restored,” the Master said, twirling on one foot.

The Doctor clenched his fist and tightened his grip on the pistol in his coat pocket.

“You weren't there in the final days of the war. You never saw what was born. But if the time-lock’s broken, then everything is coming through. Not just the Daleks, but the Skaro Degradations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, and the Could-Have-Been King, the war turning to hell. And that's what you opened, right above Earth. Hell is descending!”

The Doctor took the gun out of his pocket.

“My kind of world,” the Master said, an arrogant smile crossing his face.

“Just listen! Because not even a Time Lord can survive that!”

The Lord President interrupted.

“We will initiate the Final Sanction. The end of time will come at my hand. The rupture will continue until it rips the Time Vortex apart,”

“That’s suicide,” the Master weakly protested, shaking his head.

“We will ascend to become creatures of consciousness alone. Free of these bodies, free of time, of cause and effect, while creation itself ceases to be,”

The Doctor, disturbed, said, “You see now? That's what they were planning in the final days of the war. I had to stop them.”

The Master dropped to his knees and stretched his arms.

“Then, take me with you, Lord President. Let me ascend into glory,”

“You are diseased, albeit a disease of our own making. No more-”

Click.

The Doctor had the gun aimed at the Lord President, his expression cold and steely.

In a calm, smooth voice, the Lord President advised, “Choose your enemy well. We are many. The Master is but one,”

“But he’s the president. Kill him, and Gallifrey could be yours.”

In one quick, fluid motion, the Doctor twisted around and repositioned the gun, this time pointed directly at the Master’s forehead.

“He’s to blame, not me! Oh, the link is inside my head. Kill me, the link gets broken, and they go back. You never would, you coward. Go on. Do it.”

The Doctor felt a small amount of an unidentifiable emotion.

He turned around again, his expression unchanging.

“Exactly! It’s not just me, it’s him! He’s the link! Kill him!”

The Lord President questioned, “The final act of your life is murder. But which one of us?”

A woman, sitting behind the Lord President among several other Time Lords, removed her hands from her face.

Wilf gasped. He had seen this face before.

Something ran through the Doctor’s mind.

A half-formed plan, but still a plan.

The woman covered her face again.

The Doctor looked to the Master.

In a flat voice, he said, “Get out of the way.”

He turned around, pulled the trigger on the pistol, and a bullet flew across the room and knocked a small diamond out of a machine near one of the walls.

The room began to shake more intensely, and the Doctor almost lost his balance.

“The link is broken! Back into the Time War, Rassilon! Back into hell!” he shouted before he could stop himself.

Someone began screaming, “Gallifrey falling! Gallifrey falling!”

“You’ll die with me, Doctor.” the Lord President observed, his expression surprisingly calm.

His voice shaking, the Doctor responded, “I know.”

The Lord President raised his hand with the metal gauntlet and pointed to the Doctor.

“Get out of the way!” the Master yelled.

The Doctor jumped to his left, and the Master fired something that looked like lightning from his hand.

The Lord President shrieked and dropped to his knees as the lightning hit him in the chest.

“YOU DID THIS TO ME! ALL OF MY LIFE! YOU MADE ME!” The Master screamed as he shocked the Lord President one, two, three, four more times.

The white space brightened, rendering everything within sight invisible.

As the light faded away and the ground stopped shaking, the Doctor opened and closed his hand, feeling a sensation for the first time since this whole mess had begun. He was still alive.

He tossed the gun onto the floor, which made a hollow cling.

The Doctor heard a ta-ta-ta-tap coming from the radiation booths on the other side of the room.

Wilf was still stuck inside, and he was desperately knocking against the glass.

The Doctor ran to the booths, and fended off a wave of crying.

“They've gone, then?” Wilf asked.

The Doctor nodded, slow and tired.

“Yeah, good-o. If you could let me out, then?”

“Yeah.” The Doctor was visibly shaking.

“Only, this seems to be making a bit of a noise.”

There was silence.

“The Master left the nuclear bolt running, and it’s gone into overload.” the Doctor said.

“And that’s bad, isn’t it?” Wilf responded.

“No, because the excess radiation gets vented inside there. Vinvocci glass contains it. All five hundred thousand rads, about to flood that thing.”

“Oh. You better let me out, then.”

“Wilf, it’s gone critical. Touch one control, it floods. Even this would set it off.” The Doctor said, trying to keep a jaunty tone even though his emotions were really a cocktail of anger, sadness, and fear.

He pulled out his sonic screwdriver, a long, thin device with a blue tip. He weaved it between his fingers and tapped it against his forearm in a repetitive pattern.

Wilf looked like he was about to cry.

“I’m sorry. Look, just leave me.”

The Doctor felt something bubble up in his body.

“Okay, right, then, I will. Because you had to go in there, didn’t you? You had to go and get stuck, oh yes. Because that’s who you are, Wilfred! You were always this. Waiting for me all this time!”

The Doctor started pacing around the room, his heartsbeat slamming inside his head.

Wilf put his hand on the glass.

“No, really, just leave me. I’m an old man, Doctor. I’ve had my time.”

The Doctor started shouting again.

“Well, exactly! Look at you! Not even remotely important! But me? I could do so much more! But this is what I get? My reward, and it’s not fair! Oh, I’ve lived too long, haven’t I? I’ve lived too long.”

Wilf, looking desperate, said, “No, no, don’t!’

“Wilfred, it’s my honor. Three, two, one!”

The Doctor ran inside the empty booth, and pressed the button.

Wilf ran out of his booth, and the Doctor felt his getting warmer.

A million small pinpricks of pain appeared all over his body, and they became stronger and stronger until it was absolutely unbearable.

He collapsed onto the floor, his hands involuntarily twitching. His breath slowed and began to shutter.

Eventually, the heat died down. The pain didn’t go away, but it became bearable.

The Doctor stood back up, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

He sadly waved to Wilf, who was standing nearby.

“Hi.”

“Still with us?”

“The system’s dead. I absorbed it all. Whole thing’s kaput.”

The Doctor pressed on the door, which swung open.

“Oh. Now it opens, yeah.”

He walked out and turned to Wilf.

“Well, there we are, then. Mind you, you’re in a hell of a state. You’ve got some battle scars.” Wilf commented.

The Doctor put his hand over his cuts, and felt them vanish. At the same time, he noticed the uncomfortable sensation of blood drying over his lips.

Wilf looked shocked.

“But they’ve- your face- how did you do that?”

The Doctor looked at his hand and quietly said, “It’s started.”

Wilf wrapped his arms around the Doctor’s body. He was sobbing.

The Doctor stifled his own crying.

* * *

Wilf walked out of the phone box, with the Doctor by his side.

“Oh, she’s smiling. As if today wasn’t bad enough,” the Doctor said, noticing Sylvia, the blond-haired woman, in the window.

“What do you mean? When’s that?” Wilf replied.

“Just keep looking. I’ll be there.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get my reward.”

The Doctor waved to Sylvia, and walked back into his TARDIS.

* * *

Martha, the woman with cornrows in her hair, and Mickey, the man in the black jacket, were running.

There were Sontarans all around the area, firing their weapons at the two soldiers.

Something exploded behind them, and they dove behind a large scrap of metal.

The Doctor was watching all of this from a balcony overlooking the battlefield.

“I told you to stay behind!” Mickey shouted.

“Well, it looked like you needed help! Besides, you’re the one who persuaded me to go freelance.” Martha said.

“Yeah, but we’re being fired at by a Sontaran! A dumpling with a gun! This is no place for a married woman.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have married me, then!”

The Doctor saw a Sontaran sniper on the balcony, not far from where he was standing.

His gun was trained directly at Martha.

The Doctor grabbed a nearby hammer, ran up to the sniper, and hit him with a blind, wild ferocity that had not come in a long time.

The sniper collapsed, and the Doctor set the hammer down.

He waved to the couple on the battlefield as his eyes became wet.

Mickey tugged on Martha, who looked up and waved back.

* * *

Luke, a blond-haired boy who looked about 15, was talking on the phone.

“That was the maddest Christmas ever, Clive! Mum still doesn’t know what happened. She got Mr. Smith to put out this story saying that wi-fi went mad across the world, giving everyone hallucinations. I mean, how else do you explain it? Everyone with a different face!”

He walked across the street, directly in the path of a semi truck.

The Doctor, scared for both of their lives, ran to Luke and pushed him out of the road.

Luke turned around.

“It’s you! You’re-”

He ran to a middle-aged woman walking along the sidewalk.

“Mum!”

“What is it?”

“It’s him! It’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor waved to Luke and his mother, and walked back into his TARDIS.

* * *

Music was blasting, making it hard to speak.

The Doctor set a piece of paper onto the bar counter, and scrawled His name is ALONSO onto it.

He waved to the bartender and pointed to Jack, the man in the long black coat sitting on the opposite side of the bar.

The bartender took the paper, put it in front of Jack, and pointed to the Doctor.

Jack looked up, and he saluted.

The Doctor waved.

Before walking out of the bar, he closed his eyes, taking a moment to enjoy the music.

* * *

The bookstore was much quieter than the bar.

The Doctor swallowed, his throat beginning to close up.

“No, it’s not just a story. Every word of it is true! I found my great-grandmother’s diary in the loft, and she was a nurse in 1913. She fell in love with a man named John Smith, except he was a visitor from another world. She fell in love with a man from the stars, and she wrote it all down!”

The woman doing the talking, the author of the book she was signing, looked familiar.

Of course she did. Her great-grandmother was Joan Redfern. Joan, that wonderful, wonderful woman.

The Doctor stepped forward as the line moved, and he set his book down on the table.

“And who’s it for?” the woman said.

“The Doctor.”

“To…the…Doctor. Funny, that’s the name he used.”

That’s because he was me.

The woman looked up at the Doctor with a look of starry-eyed wonder. She slid the book back over to him.

“Was she happy? In the end?” the Doctor asked.

“Yes, yes she was. Were you?”

The Doctor didn’t respond.

He picked up the book, walked out of the store, and started crying.

* * *

As his TARDIS landed, the Doctor wiped the last of his tears with his coat sleeve.

He opened the door in time to hear a group of people shouting, “Hip, hip, hooray!”

Donna gathered a group of people in front of an ornate fence.

“Right, come on! This photo is just with friends. Come on, I want all of you in it! Well, friends and Nerys. I’m joking, I'm joking! Oh, look at her!”

“You made me wear peach!” a woman, who the Doctor assumed to be Nerys, said.

“That’s because you are a peach! Furry skin, stone inside, going off.”

A photographer moved in front of the group and said, “Okay, smile.”

As the shutter clicked, the Doctor walked out of his TARDIS and leaned on the fence.

“Well, it’s never too late.” a woman in a pastel pink dress commented.

“Will you behave, Minnie? Honestly!” Wilf said, with a tone of exasperation.

“I’m going to catch that bouquet.”

“Oh, dear.”

Sylvia ran over to Wilf, and tugged on his sleeve.

Wilf turned.

“And here you are, huh? Same old face. Didn’t I tell you that you’d be alright?” Wilf said cheerfully, him and Sylvia walking to the Doctor.

I wish it was true.

“Oh! They’ve arrested Mr. Naismith. It was on the news, crimes undisclosed. His daughter, too. Both of them are locked up. But I keep thinking, Doctor. That woman, who was she? You never told me.”

Ignoring Wilf’s question, the Doctor swallowed and pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

“I just wanted you to have this. A wedding present. Thing is, I never carry money, so I went back in time and borrowed a quid off of a really lovely man. Geoffrey Noble, I think his name was. He told me to have it.”

Sylvia put her hands to her face, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

Wilf took the envelope and went to Donna.

As Donna opened the envelope, the Doctor walked back into his TARDIS.

* * *

A new wave of pain shot through the Doctor’s body. He grunted, and sadly rested his head on the brick wall behind him.

Voices came from somewhere to his right.

“I’m late now. I’ve missed it, and it’s midnight! Mickey’s going to be calling me everything. This is your fault!”

“No, it’s not. Jimbo said he was going to give us a lift, and then he said his axle broke! I can’t help it.”

“Get rid of him, Mum! He’s useless.”

“Listen to you, with a mechanic. Be fair, though. In my life, I'm not going to do much better.”

“Don’t be like that! You never know. There could be someone out there.”

The Doctor suddenly recognized the voices.

Yeah…me.

“Happy new year! Don’t stay out too late.”

“Ha, try and stop me!”

The Doctor heard footsteps get closer.

He tried to walk, but it only made the pain worse.

“Ow!”

A girl with long blond hair and a pink beanie skidded to a stop.

Rose, the girl who had helped save the world. The girl who was completely ordinary and yet never failed to amaze. Rose Tyer.

“You all right?”

No.

“Yeah.”

“Too much to drink?”

“...something like that.”

“Happy new year.”

The Doctor choked back a sob. He felt something inside of him, like his insides had been scooped out. Heartache.

“And you. What year is it?”

“Bli-mey, how much have you had? It's 2005, January the first.”

“2005? You’re going to have a great year.”

“Yeah? See you!”

Rose jogged away.

An Ood, a creature like a bipedal octopus, materialized next to where the Doctor was standing.

Ood Sigma. The Ood that had once been oppressed and beaten down with everyone else of his kind, now free. And a leader.

“We will sing to you, Doctor. The universe will sing you to your sleep.” he said.

A song, soothing and chilling at the same time, began to go through the Doctor’s head.

As the Doctor limped back to his TARDIS, he realized he had one more person to mourn. The heartache got worse.

He walked inside, the song persisting.

His throat started hurting as he pressed controls on the TARDIS console.

He noticed his hand was glowing yellow. He started sobbing uncontrollably as the glow began getting brighter.

“I don’t want to go,” he remarked.

He repeated it, this time shouting it, his voice obscured behind a veil of sobs.

“I DON’T WANT TO GO!”

The yellow glow took over his eyesight and his thoughts and his feelings. For a split second, it felt like he didn’t exist.

Sparks flew, circuits shorted out, and fires started, and the Doctor, for once, couldn’t do anything about it. Because he was frozen to his spot. Regenerating. Dying.

The glow faded, and he began panting.

“Legs! I’ve still got legs, good. Arms, hands, fingers.”

The rampant anxiety the Doctor had been caught up in for the last few hours faded and disappeared.

He didn't need to be afraid anymore. He had a whole new life to live.

#doctor who #dw fanfic #dr who #doctor who fanfiction

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