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wileys-russo · 8 months

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late night visits II k.mccabe x reader

i think this is the longest fic i've written so far but as she deserves, katie is so lover girl coded and no one can convince me otherwise

late night visits II k.mccabe x reader 7.3K words

"katie!" the irishwoman glanced up with a squint, standing taller to try and see over the crowd of drunken bodies packing the bar. finally she spotted her friends jammed into a booth toward the back and pushed her way through toward them.

"jesus is there like a two for one special on drinks tonight or what?" katie huffed as she took the vacant seat beside leah, looking around at the hordes of patrons around them. the little restaurant and bar was hardly unknown, however it rarely got this busy.

"guess our little secret isn't so secret anymore." jen chuckled, sliding katie a rum and coke she'd ordered her earlier as the irishwoman sent her a grateful smile before necking it. "slow down katie! it's not a race." beth laughed with a shake of her head as the irishwoman grinned.

"almost every bar in manchester was like this it took like a half an hour to even be served!" alessia piped up, seated beside leah and across from jen. the small group of girls deciding at training earlier today they'd go out for a drink tonight since there wasn't a match this weekend.

the invitation had been extended to the whole team but a lot had plans to go and see partners or family in the short few days break.

"oh we don't have that issue here, do we katie?" jen teased with a smirk as the girl in question rolled her eyes. "i don't even know if she's workin jen, lay off!" she defended. :please like you haven't memorised her schedule by now." leah joined in with a chuckle.

"i feel like im missing some context here?" alessia piped up with a confused frown, not quite following along with the light hearted teasing.

"katies sleeping with one of the bar tenders." beth eagerly filled the younger blonde in as viv smacked her on the shoulder with a look of disapproval. "are you?" alessias curious gaze turned to katie who groaned.

"sometimes. it doesn't matter anyway its none of any of your businesses!" the brunette warned sternly, sending a particularly harsh look toward laura who couldn't seem to stop herself from laughing at the situation.

"wonderful. you can get the next round then!" leah grinned and gave her a shove almost sending the girl flying onto her ass out of the booth as katie shot leah a glare but nonetheless stood to her feet.

"russo you're coming with me, i need extra hands and you're the least annoying one present tonight." katie gestured toward the girl who scrambled quickly over leah.

"thank you…i think?" alessia frowned as katie slung an arm over her shoulder, tugging her away from the group who resumed their chatter. "so is she here?" the blonde asked looking around eagerly as they finally got to the bar.

"that one." katie gave in with a sigh, nudging alessia and pointing you out where you were busy making cocktails at the other end of the bar. "she's gorgeous." alessia stated with a nod of approval as katie couldn't help but chuckle, small talk made between the two as they waited for someone to come take their order.

someone who katie secretly hoped was you.

meanwhile you joked around around with a few regulars, making sure to maintain the bright smile on your face despite how much harder you were needing to work tonight, the growing frustration inside you that as per usual your boss had understaffed for a busy night to save money.

"well well, i thought i heard security talking about trouble brewing." you greeted the familiar irishwoman with a grin as you wiped your damp hands on your apron, katies own face curling into a smug smile as she shamelessly checked you out.

admittedly the brunette was somewhat of a weak spot for you, there was just something about her cheeky grin which oozed confidence, paired with that strong accent and effortless charm she made your knees buckle.

you wound up a messy of sweaty limbs tangled in one another's bedsheets far more often than you'd care to admit, reaching out to one another at all sorts of hours with all sorts of excuses for your late night visits.

it should have been a seemingly easy relationship, you used one another for whatever was needed without really holding any responsibilities for how the other felt.

the first time you'd slept together was a few months ago and you'd both agreed it was just a one time thing. merely a drunken fling as you and katie had shared a few drinks once you'd clocked off for the night, which inevitably ended in your sweaty bodies pressed up together in her bed a couple of hours later.

yet months later and here she still was, looking you up and down with a hungry glint in her eyes probably imagining the lustful activities she hoped would be happening later on.

there was just one small problem to all of this, which was that you secretly wanted more. you wanted her in a way where it didn't feel transactional, where you weren't just a late night thought but rather could be someone meaningful to her.

but you knew that wasn't on the cards for katie and so you'd convinced yourself into a firm state of delusion where it didn't hurt to continue on like nothing had changed and you didn't secretly hope for more.

your friends had begged you end it, seeing how much it knocked your normally confident persona down, playing on your self esteem and picking at insecurities you didn't even know were there as you couldn't help but wonder why she only wanted to keep it casual if it was such a seemingly common occurence.

you couldn't quite say when things had started to shift,. as at first you were more than satisfied with just being friends with benefits, barely meeting the friends part since you hardly knew anything about one another.

maybe that's what had made it easier in the early stages, that lack of knowledge and impersonal connection. you didn't know anything about football nor did you care to change that, so of course to you she was just a girl, not some big celebrity superstar athlete.

thats not to say she didn't show her athletic prowess in other ways, the irishwoman had the best stamina you'd ever seen and could go for hours without even needing a water break.

and when the relationship was only transactional, impersonal and occasional, you were fine with it.

but lately, lately things had been different. and it had all started a couple of weeks ago.

once the two of you had finished for the night, katie had stuck around. she begun to ask questions, about you, your work, your family, and to your shock seemed actually interested in the answers.

she hadn't stayed the night, only for a couple of hours and a cup of tea but it was out of the ordinary behavior from your usual arrangement. though you'd tried not to dwell on it too much, knowing that overthinking it was dangerous.

but then it had happened again the next time, and again the time after that. katie once more asking you question after question, and if she wasn't doing that she was telling you the more intimate details of her life and her family, or debriefing about a particularly hard training session or her concerns for an upcoming match.

without even realising it she'd kicked down your walls and she'd done the worst possible thing in a friends with benefits situation, she'd begun to accidentally indulge you into what it could be like if the two of you were more.

"we're completely out of bacardi and we're running low on jager." nathan, one of your coworkers, popped up beside you as you bent down to grab a cider for a customer from the fridges under the bar.

now counting down until the end of your shift, you were endlessly grateful you weren't on close tonight. though things had begun to die down, the more rowdier of patrons beginning to be moved on by security, you knew there would be some that lingered long into the night.

"there's more downstairs, i'll go stock up before i finish so you don't need to worry about it. can you handle this for awhile?" you offered, the boy sighing in relief and nodding with an appreciative smile.

you untied your apron and tossed it under the counter, jumping over the small gate at the end of the bar and ducking around the corner where only staff were allowed.

busying yourself quickly checking your phone you hadn't noticed someone follow, someone whose eyes had been trained to you most of the night, who'd been relentlessly teased by her friends for exactly that.

"scuse me but has anyone ever told you your bum looks quite peachy in those shorts?" your eyes flickered up from your screen as the brunette grinned cheekily, taking a few steps toward you as you shook your head and slipped your phone into your pocket.

"just drunken creeps who i've had kicked out right afterwards." you smiled, katies hands finding their way to your hips as she gently pressed you into the wall, blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

"send them my way next time, i'll be sure to teach em some manners about how to treat a pretty girl." katies smile widened as her eyes flickered down toward your lips.

"i'm still on the clock here mccabe." you chuckled, pushing her off gently as you knew what would happen next if you didn't. "well then when do you get off?" she asked, pressing her body back into yours as you shook your head.

"in an hour." you revealed watching her lips curl into a smirk. "then i'll meet you out back by your car." the older girl spoke suggestively, face so close to yours you could feel the warm tickle of her breath against your lips but then just like that she was gone, striding off back into the public area seeking out her friends.

with a sigh and a shake of your head you straightened up, banishing the lust which clouded your mind and hurrying off downstairs to the dry store.

of course katie wound up in your bed that night, a chorus of moans of plesure and lips smacking together in sloppy kisses, crisp linen gripped in white knuckled fists with sweaty limbs tangled.

this was then once again followed by a cup of tea and soft conversations about your childhood pets, quite the contrast from your previous activites.

then things only became stranger that next morning.

sundays were always your day off so you'd never have alarms set, allowing your body to wake you up whenever it was ready, purposefully never setting up any plans or commitments you needed to arise early for.

so when your eyes fluttered open around eleven in the morning, your room still quite dark due to an overcast and cloudy day, nothing seemed out of sorts.

it wasn't until you shifted tiredly that you felt someone move beside you. your body was instantly jolted awake, and that's when you became aware of the warm arm draped lazily over your naked midsection, an arm that was not yours.

with a sharp intake of breath you slowly turned your head to the side, seeing a mop of brunette hair sprawled across the pillows, duvet only partially covering her half naked form, tanned back moving up and down as she slept soundly with her face smushed into the mattress, and your eyes widened at the sudden realisation that katie had slept over.

she never slept over, even spending a few hours chatting your ear off with a cup of tea she'd never stayed afterwards. you weren't sure if she could hear but your hate rate began to thunder in your ears, thumping like horses hooves against a track as your cheeks flushed scarlet red.

"i can feel your eyes burning a hole into the side of my head ya know." the irishwoman finally spoke, accent somehow thicker in her half awake state as she gently pushed herself up and flopped onto her side with a tired sigh.

your skin burned where her arm had been as she retracted it, running a hand through her hair and flicking it to one side of her head, blinking tiredly with a stretch as your eyes did their best not to fall directly down to her bare chest.

"you can look you know, certainly did last night." she grinned, immediately noticing your internal struggle as her own blue eyes shamelessly roamed your naked body with a hungry glint before you tucked yourself more into the duvet making her chuckle.

"you stayed over." was all you could manage to spit out, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "with observations like that you could give up bar tending for some detective work." katie smiled teasingly as you rolled over and grabbed your top off the floor.

slipping it over your head to somewhat cover up you tossed katie's at hers, the material smacking her in the face as you sat up, snatching your underwear off the floor and wiggling quickly into it.

"you've never stayed over." you made your point a little firmer, slipping out of the bed as katie now sat up, tugging her own shirt on.

"well we were talking in bed and i guess we both fell asleep." the irishwoman shrugged casually, grabbing her suit pants off the floor and slipping into them, buttoning them as she stood. you only hummed not really believing her as the action was so out of character, but you were too tired to argue as you tied your hair up into a messy bun.

"you should come to the game today, there's still tickets." katie spoke up again, sat on the end of the bed as she laced up her shoes. you choking on your own spit at the shock from her statement, the girl glancing over her shoulder with an amused smile before turning back round, not mentioning anything more than that.

you walked her to the front door wordlessly, cogs going into overdrive in your mind, almost in shock katie couldn't hear how loud your overthinking was right now.

"catch you later maybe kid." katie winked charmingly, pressing a kiss to your cheek and stepping out the front door. striding down your driveway without a single look back she slipped into an uber as you touched your cheek and slowly closed your front door.

oh you were down bad, and maybe it was time you started dealing with it.

and that exact thought was how you found yourself huddled among a small group of your friends, rain drizzling down on your head and body tucked into itself trying to utilise your body heat to warm up.

your friend mathew was doing his very best to keep you interested, explaining every little rule and tactic that he could as the match dragged on, desperate to try and up your enthusiasm of what was apparently a fantastic game being played.

the poor boy raised a die hard arsenal fan was over the moon when you'd loosely mentioned attending as the two of you caught up for brunch. within five minutes he'd somehow conjured you up a ticket, forced you into a jersey, talked your ear off the entire car ride and here you were.

you'd chosen not to mention that the girl you were so hung up who was in your bed at least twice a week nowadays was the katie mccabe, you'd not told any of your friends her actual name only referring to her as 'bar girl', and so the only ones who could have put two and two together were maybe your coworkers.

though all of you were generally so run off your feet most nights they hardly batted an eyelid into your personal life, too focused on making it home to their own beds rather than being hung up on who was sneaking into yours.

"oh they're doing a lap! come on i wanna get my shirt signed by viv if i can she's one of the only ones im missing." mathew eagerly grabbed your hand, practically yanking you out of your chair and away from the rest of your friends who you hastily waved goodbye to.

"you know if i just gave you my jersey one time-" "no matty, the answer will always be a no." you chuckled, despite not knowing of your late night visitors identity the boy did know the arsenal girls frequented your workplace, and he was forever pestering you about having them sign something

you'd held firm with a no, and would continue to.

one of the main reasons the girls continued to come back was that you all made sure to treat them like actual people, and despite being more than household names your regulars tended to leave them be most of the time as well, most of the time.

you hung by yourself away from the main crowd eagerly chatting to the players, leaning against the barrier and busying yourself organizing to cover a few vacant shifts next week.

trying to save to upgrade your car you would take any extra money you could get at the moment, now only a few thousand away from your goal.

"want me to sign that for ya?" your head lifted at the familiar accent, meeting her mischievous blue eyes as she gave you an alluringly cheeky smile.

"no thanks i'm waiting for a starter, not a bench warmer." you quipped back, slipping your phone into your pocket as katie feigned offence.

"how about a goal scorer then?" the brunette moved a little closer, leaning on the barrier with her hands as your eyes drifted down to her well toned arms before flickering back upwards, which didn't go unnoticed by the irishwoman.

"oh did you score? didn't see." you brushed it off with a shrug, katie opening her mouth to speak but falling silent as mathew appeared back by your side, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

at the sight katies stomach flipped a little and her jaw clenched, she watched the boys mouth move, words clearly directed toward her as she only hummed and sent him a polite smile, barely listening.

"well well well, look who it is. our favourite bartender!" the brunette snapped back out of it as jen appeared by her side with a smirk, closely followed by beth. "i thought you weren't a football fan." beth teased, and katie watched as you gestured to the boy beside you, blaming him for your attendance.

you picked up on katies lack of joining into the conversation, trying to catch her attention again but eventually having to excuse yourself and mathew as you had dinner plans. "oo a hot date is it?" beth teased, shooting katie a subtle side eye, the blonde also picking up on her lack of effort to join in.

"every sunday! she loves me for my roast dinners." mathew grinned, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek as you gagged sarcastically and pushed his face away.

"see you round then." you smiled, directing the comment more toward katie than anyone else, frowning a little as she blanked you and walked off without so much as a glance your way.

you didn't see or hear from katie for the next few days, which wasn't all that abnormal seeing as since the two of you were just casually sleeping around you hardly had a regular routine of meet ups.

however when you did finally see her again it wasn't under circumstances you expected.

you were covering the closing shift for nathan tonight as it was his 30th birthday. the seemingly quiet Wednesday not one of your normal rostered days it seemed to be a running joke among the regulars present.

yet no matter how many times you heard the same one liner you still faked a laugh and a grin, watching the tip jar fill up gradually as you did so with a satisfied smile.

given it wasn't all that busy you found yourself people watching in the odd pockets of free time which fell your way, a habit which was easily one of your favorite perks of the job. yourself and your coworkers often busied yourself dreaming up extravagant imaginary lives for the drunken strangers occupying the bar.

but that was how you spotted her, tucked away in a table toward the back and not by herself, an unfamilar blonde sat beside her and the two seemed quite cosy. you watched with a frown as katie mucked about with the blonde, kissing her on the cheek as the girl shoved her away with a grin.

you couldn't but feel as though you'd been punched in the stomach as you wrenched your eyes away, plastering a fake smile on your face and hurrying off to serve a patron.

thankfully you managed to avoid interacting with the irishwoman for the most part, katie too busy entertaining her date as the blonde came up a few times to grab them both drinks, and by some miracle she'd been served by someone else each time.

though of course that luck didn't last.

as the bar began to empty you busied yourself starting to pack down and clean glasses. but you watched on hopelessly as katie made her way over and with your coworker for the night already occupied with other patrons you knew you'd have no way of avoiding her.

"hey." was all the brunette said with a smile that you returned, handing her a rum and a coke like she always ordered and waiting for if she wanted anything else. "oh nah just a water for me i'm drivin, and a glass of house red please." you nodded and wordlessly prepared her drinks.

"just 8.40." you placed the eftpos machine up on the counter as katie tapped her card and hearing the beep you turned back to what you were doing. "hey, can i see you later?" you glanced up realizing she hadn't left yet, lingering at the counter with her drinks in hand and a hopeful look in her eyes.

"i'm on close tonight." you shook your head and katie frowned, unsure why you seemed so upset with her. "i just wanted to-" the brunette started but you cut her off with a scoff, in disbelief she was really trying to come onto you while out with another woman.

casual or not you had higher standards for yourself than that, and maybe your friends were right and it was time you started to treat yourself with a little more kindness.

"i'm working katie, just leave me alone." and with that you ducked out back before the irishwoman could even say another word, stunned at the somewhat aggressive tone which still lingered in the air after your abrupt exit.

since the frosty encounter katie had tried to call and message you but with no response and left on read she'd taken the hint and had backed off.

she'd still been around with her team mates over the weekend for dinner in the restaurant but didn't dare come to order a drink at the bar since you were on shift.

most of the girls gave up questioning her about what had happened, noticing that something had shifted between the two of you, and with a stern warning from the irishwoman hadn't dared to ask you about it either.

but ever persistent and hating to see the obvious discontent hidden behind her friends eyes that the others missed, leah continued to press her for an answer.

"oh for fuck sakes cause she's got a boyfriend leah!" katie eventually snapped and gave in as the blonde had once more cornered her for an interrogation. "what! are you sure? since when?" leah frowned, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall.

"i dunno! i met him at that game she came to, he's not even a good lookin fella." katie huffed with a roll of her eyes, sitting down at her locker and beginning to take off her boots. "i thought that she seemed quite into you?" leah sat down beside her as katie sighed deeply.

"i don't know i thought she was. we'd been talking a lot, getting to know each other better, it was starting to feel like more but i guess not. ever since i met him she's been blankin me so i guess whatever it was with us is over now." katie shrugged it off, not wanting to dwell on the subject as she brushed leah off to go for a shower.

"and please don't tell anyone leah!"

and leah tried not to, she really did. but when beth continued to pester katie and she could see the annoyance building, she figured she would be doing the girl a favour by filling the girl in.

"wait that was her boyfriend? i was only joking about the date thing." beth frowned, both girls having filled the other in over a coffee. "did they seem like they were? katie said she's ghosted her ever since so i guess it makes sense?" leahs eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

little did they both know just how wrong they were.

"oh! thats him, thats the boyfriend." beths eyes widened as she gripped leahs bicep, yanking her around to look where she pointed, mathew hanging around chatting to a few of their team mates.

"wait him? i've met that guy a bunch times he's here almost every match." leah realised, beth tightening her grip on her and marching the two of them in the boys direction.

"no personal bartender with you today then?" beth plastered a smile on her face, not wanting to go in with all guns blazing and scare the poor guy off. "oh her? please it took me almost twenty two years to get that girl to come to one game!" the boy laughed and re-introduced himself at beths subtle request.

"twenty two years?" leah frowned a little at the timeline, trying to piece it together. "yeah we go way back, grew up together since we were kids. pretty sure our parents were convinced we were gonna get married someday!" he joked with a grin, beth and leah exchanging a look.

"were?"

"well yeah, when they realised i liked boys and she liked girls that put a bit of a pin in their plans." mathew chuckled, leahs face paling as beth bit her lip to hide a smile at their obvious blunder. "so you two aren't..." beth gestured as the boys eyes widened and he laughed harder.

"please! god no. why, are one of you interested?" he winked, well aware of their ongoing presence at your workplace.

"but no she's very much so single. i've begged her to let me get her back into the dating scene but she's hopelessly hung up on some girl she's been sleeping with for months now-" the boy rolled his eyes, and had you been present you'd have smacked the living daylights out of him for oversharing, his favorite habit.

"-but this girl only wants something casual where as she wants more. so i've tried to get her to cut it off but she's convinced it doesn't hurt to keep it going, which i know her like the back of my hand and believe me, it's hurting her." mathew sighed with a shake of his head, eyes widening when he realized who he was actually talking to.

"but i am very very certain that she would kill me for sharing all of that so please if you see her at the bar don't mention it. i'd quite like to live to see next week i have tickets to next weekends match." the boy joked, glancing over his shoulder as a few of his friends called out for him.

"well fantastic game girls it was lovely speaking to you both. thank you for your time and i am very sorry for filling it with my own voice." he winced apologetically, flashing them a dazzling smile before hurrying off after his friends.

"find katie?" "find katie."

you looked over your shoulder in surprise as there was a knock at your door, a quick tap of your phone screen showing it was nearly half seven at night, hardly a time for a door to door salesmen to be coming round, and most of your friends knew where your spare key was and never hesitated to let themselves in.

pausing the episode of love island you were catching up on as you cooked, you tucked your phone into the pocket of your hoodie and padded over to the door, cautiously opening it as another knock sounded.

"we need to talk."

you stepped back as katie shot past you, a blur of red having just come from a video study debrief for the teams upcoming match against chelsea.

she knew you didn't work sundays so took a shot in the dark that you'd be home, grateful it paid off as you closed your door. "please, come in!" you scoffed at her abruptness, following after her into the kitchen.

"i'm not sleeping with you." you started firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as katie now scoffed, taking a seat at the kitchen bench. "when i said we needed to talk, i meant with our mouths and not with our tongues." the irishwoman quipped back causing a slight blush to creep over your cheeks.

"what's there to talk about katie?" you withheld a groan at the intrusion, ignoring her patting the seat beside her for you to sit down as if she was in her own home, instead you chose to stay standing a few feet away from her.

"why you're actin funny with me." the brunette folded her arms sternly and raised an eyebrow, now thanks to her faithful blonde friends she knew you didn't have a boyfriend she wanted answers as to why you'd been ignoring her.

"i've just been busy." you lied, turning your back to her and busying yourself resuming the chopping and prepping for your dinner, hoping with some minimal responses the brunette would grow tired and hopefully leave.

"bullshit, ya never ignore me entirely." katie held firm, and you could feel her eyes bore into the back of your head like lasers. "why do you even care? its not like we're dating or you can't get your needs met elsewhere." you added the last part a little bitterly, a pause of silence falling between the two of you.

"and what's that supposed to mean then?" katie scoffed, raising an eyebrow at the obvious change of tone. "you know what it means i'm not spelling it out for you." you shook your head, the only sound being your knife hitting the board as you chopped up the peppers.

"jesus would you stop that and actually talk to me?" katie snapped, standing to her feet with a frustrated huff. "okay. you want to do this? fine, lets do this." you also snapped, dropping the knife and spinning around to face the older girl.

"i thought that whatever we were doing was completely casual, a friends with benefits situation and i was fine with that." you started, crossing your arms over your chest. "but then you made it complicated." you accused, pointing at her as she made a face of both confusion and offence.

"i made it complicated? till yesterday i thought ya had a boyfriend you were using me to cheat on with!" katie defended making you now pull a face. "what on earth gave you that impression?" you asked, face scrunched up in both disgust and confusion at the mere thought.

"your boy mathew or whatever his name was!" katie rolled her eyes and you paused for a minute before letting out a loud sarcastic bark of laughter. "my best friend? jesus no he's not my boyfriend katie i'm a lesbian for god sakes!" you corrected now with a roll of your own eyes.

"and like you're one to talk about loyalty anyway. asking me to 'hang out' right after you're on a date with another girl and at my job of all places, you don't want to be used to cheat with? i don't like being a backup option when your first one isn't interested in rounding the bases with you." you spat, katie scoffing at the accusation.

"a date? when the hell did i go on a date? you're deluded!" she waved you off with a shake of her head, accent only getting thicker the more upset she became, still not understanding why everything had changed.

"don't you gaslight me! the blonde you took to dinner the other night, you two certainly seemed cosy." your nostrils flared angrily as you held your ground, not allowing what you'd seen to be dismissed. "the blonde what-" katie grimaced trying to think back, but then it clicked.

and she did quite possibly the worst thing she could have within that moment, grabbing her stomach and doubling over in laughter, which you assumed was at you.

"okay you know what? this conversation is over. get the hell out!" you ordered angrily, clearing the distance between the two of you in a few steps and shoving at her as the brunette barely stumbled backwards, still trying to catch her breath.

"you're quite gorgeous when you're jealous ya know." the irishwoman smirked cockily and your cheeks flushed red at the sudden shift in tone. "i repeat, get. out." you recovered quickly, pointing toward the front door as katies smirk only widened, advancing slowly toward you.

"katie-" you started to warn, backing up until you smacked into the counter, the brunette pressing her body against yours, hands flushed flat on the marble counter as she smiled smugly down at you. "say that again then, tell me to leave and i will."

you tried to tell her to get out, you really did, but as she lent down and brought her face closer to yours you were consumed by the alluringly comforting smell of her perfume, knees wobbly at her pearly white smile and the cheeky twinkle of her blue eyes.

but as your stomach fluttered and your heart leapt into your throat, you remembered that to her this was all just a game, it would never be anything more than this and for your own peace and protection, you couldn't give in.

"get out, please." you dropped your gaze right before her lips could touch softly to your own, gently pushing her off and quickly rounding the counter, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as you could.

"that wasn't a date ya know." you refused to turn around at her words, instead grabbing your knife again and resuming the chopping of your vegetables. "hey would you stop that, please." you hadn't heard her make your way over to you, her hand grabbing yours as you dropped the knife with a sigh.

"five minutes. just give me that to hear me out and then if you still want me to go i'm gone and ya won't hear from me again." she requested softly, you hesitated but after a quick glance at her pleading face you gave in with a sigh.

keeping a firm grip on your hand the irishwoman lead you over to the sofa, gently sitting you down before she took her own seat at the opposite end, purposefully giving you some space.

"that wasn't a date. that blonde lass you saw me with last week was one of my sisters, she came and stayed with me for a few days to see the game and catch up while she's on break from uni." katie started to explain as you felt your cheeks burn bright red in embarrassment, burying your face in your hands with a gentle groan.

"stop that, listen." katie lent forward, tugging your hands away and nudging you to sit up before she settled back and continued. "and the whole reason that i brought her to your work was so she could see ya, cause i might have talked her ear off about you." katies own cheeks now flushed a rosy pink as you frowned slightly.

"because if you'd have spoke with me that night, i was going to ask you on a date." katie revealed nervously, fidgeting a little in her spot. "you were?" was all you could manage to get out, positively overwhelmed at the thought.

"well actually i was going to ask for some clarification around the boyfriend thing, but then if we worked that out yeah i wanted to ask ya on a date." katie smiled awkwardly, rubbing her hands nervously on her thighs.

"but i don't-i thought you wanted things to be casual." you stammered out. "i thought you wanted things to be casual, i'd have asked you out after we first slept together until you brought up it being a one time thing." katie admitted as your eyes widened further.

"which is why i made sure i always left right after, didn't get to know ya, kept it casual. cause i guess you're alright in bed!" the girl teased cheekily, softening the somewhat awkward tension a little which you were grateful for.

"but then i couldn't help myself. i really wanted to get to know you more so i started hanging around a little, asking some stuff, testing the waters. then when you didn't immediately kick me out i thought maybe you might be into us being not so casual." katie admitted, the shy and nervous side of her she was revealing now not anything you'd ever seen from the brunette before.

"then mathew came into the picture and it threw me off!" katie rolled her eyes, a small smile curling into your lips as the puzzle pieces started to align in your head.

"so i guess that kind of brings us to now, and was really all i wanted to say." katie looked to you somewhat hopefully, awaiting to see what you would say next in return.

"i only said we should keep things casual after we slept together because i thought that's what you wanted, and i was fine with it too for awhile. but then you started to hang around and ask questions and seem interested, and then you slept over!" you paused for a moment to collect your thoughts as katie watched on, intently listening.

"well you made it complicated like i said and then i started to indulge myself into the delusions of what things would be like if we were something more. but i never thought you felt the same way and then you asked me to come to your game but you were being weird and quiet the whole time. then you came in with what i assumed was a date that really hit home for me that all we would ever be was casual." you revealed with a small wince at the obvious misunderstandings from the both of you.

"and i don't want that. my friends are all off having kids or getting engaged and i want something more than just casual sex, i want to mean something to someone which is why i brushed you off and sort of ghosted you i guess." you laid your own feelings down on the line somewhat hesitantly, scared for what it meant but unable to continue holding them back anymore.

"so you're telling me, that we could have been something more for the last few months if we just...talked about it." katie cracked a small smile which you returned with a slow nod, the two of you sharing a look before breaking out into a bout of soft laughter.

"jesus christ what a mess." katie sunk into the sofa with another laugh, dragging her hands down her face in disbelief. "do you want to stay for dinner?" you asked with a soft smile, head flopping against the back of the couch as you stared at the irishwoman a few feet away who perked up at the offer.

"i'd love to."

"no you chose last night! give it to me katie, now." you ordered with a huff, struggling to stay balanced as you straddled your girlfriends leg, craning for the remote which the taller girl held just out of your reach.

"i don't want to watch that reality crap you'll put on, can't we at least watch a movie?" katie held firm, pushing you away with her spare hand as you continued to fight her for the remote.

"no! you said that last night and then you fell asleep about ten minutes in." you rolled your eyes at the memory, squealing as a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, quickly pushing you down onto the lounge as she now sat on top of you.

"well here i am wide awake baby girl, so how about we ditch the tv all together and go to bed?" the footballer smiled suggestively, still holding the remote out of your reach. "sure." you smirked, grabbing her collar and pulling her down into a kiss.

"after we watch love island." you snatched the remote from her, taking advantage of her moment of weakness as you pushed her off of you, hastily sitting up and getting comfortable again as you navigated through to find the latest episode.

"are you serious? you would rather watch that crap than have sex with me right now?" katies chest heaved a little at the sudden passionate kiss which was rudely stolen from her, propping her body up on her elbows.

"i can get you in my bed any night of the week you're quite easy, love island is only on wednesdays." you grinned cheekily, clicking into the episode and patting the space beside you. "easy she says!" katie scoffed in disbelief, sitting upright but staying on the other side of the sofa, arms crossed with a frown embedded into her eyebrows.

with a roll of your eyes at her dramatics you shuffled down the lounge, forcefully uncrossing her arms and maneuvering your body to settle half on top of her, back wedged against the arm of the sofa while your legs draped across her lap, shaking out a blanket and settling it over the two of you.

"relax the face baby, at your age you'll get wrinkles." you teasingly rubbed your thumbs against her forehead as she scoffed. "my age! i'm only two years older than ya!" the bruntte shook her head, offence written all over her face as you grinned at how easy she was to wind up.

"you know i've always been into older women." you wiggled your eyebrows as the girls large hand came to cover your face, shoving your head away playfully. "shut up and watch your shit show."

though of course after ten minutes katie was fully invested, asking you all sorts of questions as you'd settled into her arms, her hands sliding under your top and resting on your stomach.

both of you content in the little bubble of domestic bliss you'd created, wrapped around one anothers fingers tightly and very much so smitten, not a single casual thing about any of it.

#woso x reader #woso #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #woso fanfics #woso imagine #engwnt #alessia russo #woso blurbs #awfc x reader #arsenal women

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shoddynomenclature · 3 months

Note

Hi!!! Absolutely love your writing :)

Idk if you’re taking requests but if you are:

Been having a tough time lately, would it be possible to have the female companions (plus Aylin+Isobel) comforting Tav/Reader during a panic attack?

Thank youuuuuu sending you all the love and good vibes

BG3 Ladies Soothe a Panic Attack

I was honestly unsure I’d ever able to do this prompt justice, especially given how differently every person’s needs are in such a situation. But I felt inspired to give it a shot anyway! I hope it’s alright!

I also send good vibes and well wishes to all my fellow panic attack having soldiers.

In the spirit of trying to keep it vague, this one is pretty short. But without further ado, here’s Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, Minthara, Jaheira, and Isobel and Aylin!

Shadowheart

Shadowheart knows all the clerical tips and tricks that are gonna get you through this you through this.

As soon as you’re in full blown panic she’s got an ice spell at her fingertips, placing her cold hands on your face especially around the eyes.

She kneels down next to you. “Alright love, I need you to breathe with me,” she commands, modeling the most effective breathing techniques.

She’s very soft, nearly whispering so you have to really focus on her in order to understand what she is saying.

She’s very liberal with her praise, telling you how good you’re doing with every breath you’re able to match.

When the panic subsides, she instructs you to rest. She’ll lay with you if you’d like, but you need to rest for at least a few minutes before proceeding with life as usual.

She brings you food and water, taking the opportunity to make sure you’re taking care of yourself in general. You have to eat and drink at least a little bit before she’ll let you go.

She also wants to have a little chat about the root of the issue. What are some of your triggers? What are some things that help you specifically?

Next time, she’s gonna be prepared.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel is not the gentle type when it comes to these sorts of things, though it’s not something she’s entirely unfamiliar with.

When she sees the panic set in, she’s the first to pull you up to your feet and have you do jumping jacks or something.

While any observers might think she’s being heartless or unemphatic, the adrenaline actually works pretty well to pull you out of the panic fast.

She doesn’t make you feel embarrassed about it at all. She simply squeezes your arms and nods in understanding. It happens to the best of us.

Lae’zel is, shockingly, largely unfazed. You get the sense that she dealt with this before. Perhaps she even dealt with panic attacks herself in her youth.

She thinks it’s best to resume normal activities immediately, though she’ll secretly be keeping a special eye on you the rest of the day.

Karlach

In seeing your unbridled panic, Karlach starts to get a little panicked herself.

She just doesn’t really have any experience with this sort of thing and is completely unsure of what to do.

Her first instinct is to hold you, but if you put up any sort of resistance at all she backs off immediately.

Whether you are in her arms or simply next to her, she whispering words of affirmation. But she’s unable to come up with much more than “it’s okay, soldier. It’s gonna be okay. You’ve got this.”

When you’re no longer gripped by panic, she’s still not entirely sure what to do. She’ll take your lead completely. Though she’s not entirely convinced that a simple “back to business” is the best course of action.

She’ll probably want to cuddle or at least hold your hand for a while just to make sure you’re truly alright. If she’s being honest, the ordeal gave her quite a scare. But she absolutely will not make this about her right now.

She’s going to be checking in on you pretty consistently over the next couple days. She may even get some pointers from Shadowheart on what to do if it ever happens again.

Minthara

Minthara’s first priority is privacy and protection. Anyone who isn’t her isn’t allowed to come anywhere close to you. Not when you’re this vulnerable.

After everyone is gone and out of earshot, she asks “Would you like to be held?” She speaks with the same tone and cadence she’s always using. Nothing about her softens.

If you say yes, she’ll silently pull you into her arms, allowing you to sob and heave into her chest until you recover.

Pretty much anything you need is fair game. She will not stop you from clutching at her clothes or skin, even if you accidentally hurt her.

If you say no, she’ll simply sit next to you in silence, occupying herself with a silent menial task. She will allow you some space, but she will not leave you entirely alone.

Either way, anyone who values their life will stay away from you; she’ll make sure of it.

You expect her to lecture you about such a blatant display of weakness, but she doesn’t. And anyone who would dare even mention it will receive a glare that makes them think better of it.

Jaheira

Jaheira’s first tactic is similar to that of Lae’zel. She tries to get you moving until the endorphins help you overcome your panic.

It’s honestly frustrating how effective it is. The height of your panic subsides quicker than it ever has before.

She is, however, quite a bit gentler afterwards. She has questions. Is this a frequent occurrence? What triggers your panic? How can we avoid it in future?

When you express to her your concern about your anxiety making you a weak link, she is quick to shut down any doubt that you are less valuable for this.

She’s raised enough children to know it takes all sorts of strengths and weaknesses to round out a team. Even those on the softer side have their purpose.

She eventually convinces to start taking more days off, especially when the task at hand has a high likelihood to push you beyond your limits.

Isobel and Dame Aylin

Dame Aylin pulls you into her arms. Even if you struggle against it at first, she just holds you tightly against her chest and gently shushes your sobs.

Meanwhile, Isobel handles the situation very similarly to Shadowheart, bringing her clerical knowledge in to support you.

She strokes your face with cooled hands, not minding the way tears pour relentlessly down her hands. All while a strong Aylin gently kisses the crown of your head.

Aylin shields you from the world with her wings, only allowing Isobel close. Anyone else will receive a gentle yet firm “Begone.”

When it’s over, Isobel tells you to rest. She’ll probably insist prefer you came back to/stayed at camp with her for the rest of the day.

As loathe as you are to miss out on a day on adventuring, Isobel’s company makes for the best afternoon anyone could ask for.

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juyeonszn · 7 months

Text

SWEET

PAIRING lee juyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 4.61k

GENRES fluff ﹒ smut ﹒ minuscule bit of angst

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, boy next door/neighbor au, reader was in a toxic-ish relationship, juyo is so cute and so sweet, until he’s kinda 😵‍💫 yk?, um kevin and changmin appearances, reader being absolutely irrevocably impossibly down bad for juyeon’s hands, so hand kink lol, making out, vaginal fingering, cum eating…. lol, they get a little sappy at the end

SUMMARY maybe this was for the better. maybe it was okay to let your guard down every once in a while, so long as it was always for your flirty neighbor.

MORE i would like to apologize for putting this out a day late… um i was really busy preparing for my enhypen concert so 😭 not a lot of writing was happening since there wasn’t enough brain juice flowing. anyways. ENJOY <3 pls rb if u did! (ALSO THANK U REESE AND @sungbeam FOR BETAING AND EDITING <<<3 i love y’all sm)

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

If there was one thing you took pride in, it was your keen sense of hospitality.

You’d been raised as the type of girl to always be welcoming when a new face arrived, to be that guiding light for them as they adjusted to all the changes in their life. When you were little, your mother taught you to introduce yourself first, because you never knew if that person was shy or not. Of course, there was the usual ‘Stranger Danger’ pep talk, but it differed greatly from the new friend pep talk.

The first time you exhibited this wonderful trait of yours was in middle school when the foreign student in your class was forced to stand at the front of the room. He wasn’t necessarily shy, but you could tell he didn’t really enjoy being put on the spot, hands behind his back as he said his name and where he was from.

Kevin Moon. Age 13. Vancouver, Canada.

The only empty desk in the classroom was the one beside yours, and that was the golden opportunity to become best friends with the new kid. As soon as he settled into his seat and class had resumed as normal, you leaned over slightly and cupped a hand over your mouth to whisper loud enough that he could hear.

“Hi! I’m Y/N!”

He gave you a small smile in return and from then on, you and Kevin Moon were the best of friends.

The second time you proved your kindness was your freshman year of college. It was still syllabus week, but your professor had sent out an email over the weekend with papers that needed to be printed and brought to class. The guy next to you didn’t get the memo, freaking out over already messing things up on the first day.

You didn’t know him at all, but you felt bad that he was so stressed. In turn, you decided to rip up your own papers. He looked at you like you were crazy, maybe because you were. What idiot does something like that?

You give him a warm smile. “There. Now we’re both missing it.”

All he can do is laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m Changmin.”

“Y/N.”

After that, Ji Changmin came to be another one of your closest friends. It was kind of silly that something your mother instilled in you at a young age had become such a big part of your life. It brought you people who you’d cherish forever. But it also brought people you wish you’d never met.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Y/N, babe, we can work through this—”

“Are you deaf?” Your tone raises and your feet carry you to the front door, swinging it open. “I said to get out of my apartment.”

“We’ve been together for three years. You’re not gonna fight for us?” He pleads, clasping his hands as he stands in front of you.

“Why would I? Why should I stay with someone who doesn’t value me enough to stay loyal?” You seethe, your anger growing in size the longer you glare at his pathetic face. The face of a man you thought would love you until death did you part.

“She meant nothing to me!” He tries to rationalize with you, but you won’t have any of it. You weren’t stupid and you sure as hell weren’t blind.

“Do you take me as a fucking fool, Daehyun? I’ve known for months that you weren’t ‘working late at the office’. She even DMed me and showed me screenshots of your messages. Now get out before I call the cops.” You’re so pissed off that you don’t even realize you’re crying, fat tears trickling down your hot cheeks.

“After all I’ve done for you and all I’ve given you? You’re gonna act like a bitch?” He drops the innocent boyfriend act, backing you into the doorframe.

“Leave, Daehyun.” You say flatly. You’re not gonna give him the satisfaction of crumbling beneath the weight of his words. You knew the truth, you knew what kind of person he truly was after all this time.

He scoffs, grabbing his jacket off the hook beside him and finally storming out of your apartment. You cover your mouth with your hand to muffle the sobs that so badly want to escape. You watch as he bumps shoulders with a stranger holding a box, thankfully not looking back at you.

You make eye contact with said stranger, eyes wide like a child who’d just gotten caught with their hands in a cookie jar. His eyes resemble those of your friends’ when you told them you’d found out about your boyfriend’s infidelity. You both stand there for a moment, an impromptu staring contest ensuing.

Quickly, you snap out of your trance, cowering into your apartment. You vaguely remember the elderly woman across the hall mentioning that someone was moving into the unit beside yours. She had never told you a specific date, though. Had you known it was today, you might’ve expedited the dramatic break-up with Daehyun.

How could you possibly introduce yourself to him after he witnessed that? And in your current state; snot-nosed and teary-eyed? There was no way. You’d just have to postpone that for another day. Hopefully he didn’t mind too much.

“Was he cute?”

“Kevin, why is that what you’re worried about?” Changmin’s mouth pulls into a thin line, smacking the slightly older male over the back of the head. He winces, caressing the spot to ease the pain.

“I wasn’t really paying attention to that when I had just shoved my cheating ex boyfriend out of my apartment,” you push around the ramyeon on your plate with your chopsticks. “I do feel terrible that he had to see that though. But how can I face him after that?”

Kevin taps his chin with his index finger, lips pursed in thought. “Why don’t you bake for him? Welcome him to the complex like the hospitable neighbor you are.”

“That’s not a half bad idea, actually.” Changmin nods, shoveling some rice onto his spoon. The Pisces deadpans and reclines in his chair.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Okay, enough bickering you two. I need you to finish eating so I can start planning what to bake.”

The third time you practice your mother’s life lesson, is the next evening when you’re face-to-face with your neighbor’s door.

Your hands have begun to clam up beneath the warm tupperware of cookies you were holding. Were you supposed to just knock on his door like everything was fine and dandy? What if he wasn’t even home? Maybe you should just leave the baked goods with a note and—

The door swings open to reveal the stranger from a few days ago. However, this time he also wears that expression of shock, cat-like eyes widened. Your mouth moves like fish out of water, not sure what you should say or how you should say it. So you don’t think and you just act, extending the tupperware towards him.

“H-Hi, I’m Y/N, I’m your neighbor,” your speech is a little shaky, but you’re too nervous to focus on that. “I— um— I baked these for you as a housewarming gift to welcome you to the complex. As well as an apology for making you a bystander in my messy breakup.”

His features relax as a smile inches its way onto his face, graciously accepting the treats you made for him. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that. And don’t even worry about it, I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“N-No, you’re fine, I swear! We shouldn’t have aired our dirty laundry so publicly like that. You did nothing wrong.” You wave your hands as if physically dismissing his words. He lets out a little chuckle that warms your chest.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m glad that you left the dude. He sounded like a total asshole,” your neighbor tucks the tupperware under his arm, leaning against the threshold of his apartment. “You seem too nice to settle for somebody like that. From what I’ve seen, of course.”

You don’t know why that has your heart skipping a beat like a high school girl. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he really was cute. He had a boyish charm to him, but not so much so that it overpowered how handsome he was. Kevin was going to have a field day with this information.

“Uh, thank you. I should be getting back to my place now. I have an early day at work tomorrow. Have a good night!” You clear your throat to kick yourself out of whatever stupor you were about to fall into, bowing. As you’re turning on your heel to make the ten foot trip to your own apartment, he calls out your name.

“I’m Juyeon, by the way.” He grins, waving as you push open your door.

“Now that is quite the interesting development.” Kevin snorts, helping himself to one of the raspberry filled donuts you’d just finished baking.

“If you keep eating my product, I’m gonna have to kick you out of the kitchen and out of my bakery,” you chide, swatting his hands away from the baker’s rack. “And how is that interesting in the slightest? I literally gave him the cookies, apologized, and that was that.”

“He was literally flirting with you, Y/N. Changmin, tell her I’m right. Apparently I’m no longer a voice of reason here.” He says through a full mouth.

“I mean, yeah? Kinda? Calling a girl nice is usually guy code for ‘I think you’re attractive and I could see myself sleeping with you’,” Changmin shrugs, tearing off a piece of Kevin’s donut. “But I also see where you’re coming from. You did just meet each other. He could’ve just been trying to console you in a way.”

“Why am I even friends with men when they’re useless?” You throw your head back, speaking to no one in particular.

Perhaps Kevin truly was overthinking the situation. Juyeon seemed to be a kind person who probably didn’t want any problems with his neighbors. It made sense why he’d side with you after witnessing your break up. Besides, the wounds were still too fresh to even consider thinking of anyone else in such a way. No matter how hot they may be…

You’d just have to wait and see for yourself. Only time could tell what would become of the nature of your relationship with your cute new neighbor.

You look insane with everything in your cart, filled to the brim with baking ingredients. It was around 10 PM and here you were, at the grocery store buying the things needed to make cinnamon rolls. Being a baker with a bit of a sweet tooth meant your cravings got a little out of hand at times, forcing you to make drastic decisions. (I.E. grocery shopping so late at night.)

Even your clothing choice was silly: flimsy pajama shorts with Care Bears patterned on them, a baggy t-shirt, and matching slippers. It’s not like anyone cared anyway. And it wasn’t like you were trying to impress anybody either.

But as you’re walking towards the registers, you start to regret your outfit. You very quickly spot your neighbor with a basket on his arm, waiting in line for self-checkout. You feel all the color drain from your face as you stand there, staring like an absolute idiot.

He’s dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants, a hoodie swallowing his figure. He looks so effortlessly good, it kind of makes you upset. Because how are you just now meeting a guy who’s both kind and attractive? As far as you were concerned, they didn’t exist in real life— they only existed in fairytales.

Juyeon looks up from his phone and catches your eye, his hand coming up to give you a little wave and one of those crinkly eye smiles that he does when you pass each other in the hall.

As the weeks have passed, you’ve seen him more and more than you deemed normal. You’d bump into each other on the way to or from picking up your mail, you’d hold the elevator for the other in record time, and you’d even leave your apartments at the same time. Now it appears you’re running into the guy at the supermarket, too. You tried to chalk it all up to coincidence, that you just both happened to be thinking on the same wavelength.

But shyly waving back to him right now reminds you that divine intervention had crazy ways of working its magic. Perhaps those had all just been openings for you to engage in something more with your cute neighbor. And there was only one way to find out.

You psych yourself up as you walk towards him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Juyeon’s smile grows wider as he notices you approaching. “Hey, stranger. What are you up to tonight?”

“Some late baking,” you giggle, wanting to punch yourself in the face for sounding like a goddamn school girl. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to come over and keep me company? Totally up to you of course! I just thought it might be nice to get to know each other properly.”

Your suggestion is what leads the two of you to meet back up at your apartment after purchasing your respective groceries. You attempt to tidy up as best you can while you wait for the knock at your door, setting out all the ingredients on the counter and preheating your oven.

The soft knock comes moments later and you find yourself practically running to open the door, grinning at the sheepish expression on Juyeon’s face. You allow him inside of your apartment, trailing after him into the kitchen. Part of you felt like you were moving on too fast after Daehyun. As a baker, your kitchen was your safe space. It was where you went when you needed to be alone and in the comfort of what you knew best. Kevin and Changmin were the only ones you trusted to be within that element. For you to let Juyeon in— to let him permeate the walls you’ve never let down before, not even with your ex— was brand new territory.

“I almost forgot you own a bakery,” Juyeon speaks up, fingers tracing along the stand mixer. “But seeing all this expensive equipment reminded me of that. It only makes sense that someone as sweet as you would constantly be around sweet treats.”

You fail to bite back your smile. Maybe this was for the better. Maybe it was okay to let your guard down every once in a while, so long as it was always for your flirty neighbor. He laughs when you nudge his shoulder, grabbing all the dry ingredients for the dough.

“On a scale of one to ten, how patient are you?” You ask, avoiding his eyes as you open the flour. The question was in regards to several things.

“I’d say about an eight or nine. Patience is a virtue, you know. It comes easily if you practice hard enough.” He answers, leaning against the counter and watching you.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, searching for your measuring cups. Both you and Juyeon begin to measure out the dry ingredients, dumping them into the mixing bowl. You decide to let him take some of the reins, folding in the mixture of milk, egg, butter, and yeast. While he does that, you prepare the cinnamon sugar.

“I think I’m done. What do I do next?” He turns to you, head cocked to the side slightly. You might actually die of cuteness aggression. The duality of man would one day drive you to the brink of insanity.

“Now you just knead it until it’s smooth.” Your back is to him as you say this, putting away any refrigerated items so they don’t go bad. But as you face him again, you wish you hadn’t.

Your eyes zero in on his hands, kneading the dough with careful, nimble fingers. You feel light-headed as you slip into a spell, gawking at how long and slender they are, massaging the dough like an expert. How had you never noticed how big and pretty his hands were?

Maybe baking with Juyeon was a bad idea. You could barely focus on anything but his fingers pressing the under-construction-cinnamon rolls into the counter. Oh how badly you wanted to be that dough— his hands all over you, groping and massaging and kneading and caressing everywhere they could reach.

The veins running up his arms weren’t helping either, instead fueling the fire burning in the pit of your stomach. You feel your lips part, eyes glossed over with that all too familiar lustful intensity. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had to wipe away drool after this.

“Y/N?” Juyeon glances up from the dough, a little taken aback by your reverie. He follows your line of sight, grinning to himself smugly when he realizes what has you so transfixed. He’s finally found your weakness, and he couldn’t wait to dangle it over your head. Patience was a virtue, but perhaps it would be okay for him to dabble with a vice for once.

He pushes out the dough, using his thumbs to spread it into a rectangular shape. He feels his blood pressure rising the darker your eyes get. However, he’s aware that you just recently got out of a relationship. He wants to move at a pace you’re comfortable with. So he won’t take the first step. He has to leave that up to you.

It’s at a certain point that you come to, blinking to force away the dirty thoughts plaguing your mind. You travel your field of vision to his face, where you find him already looking at you. Your cheeks heat up in mortification from being caught red-handed. You were just gawking at the poor guy’s like they were a piece of fresh meat. This was terrible.

You swallow thickly, averting eye contact to grab the bowl of cinnamon sugar. “Uh, we can start forming the rolls now so they can rise. And then— um— and then we can make the glaze.”

The burn of his gaze on your profile has you tripping over your words, cinnamon sugar sprinkling onto the counter space surrounding and the knife almost slipping from your grip when you go to cut the dough. Juyeon catches it for you, wrapping his fingers around yours to guide your movements and keep them steady.

You feel his breath behind your ear, his chest pressed to your back. His hand is so much larger than your own, nearly covering it entirely. He doesn’t make an effort to move either, rolling the dough into swirl shapes along with you. The whole time this is happening, neither of you are saying a word, letting the silence consume you and the air around you.

As the rolls are rising/baking, you set up everything necessary for making the icing. Juyeon watches with hearts in his eyes as you whisk the sugar, cream cheese, vanilla, and butter in a separate bowl. He wonders how many other people you let see you in this setting. How many people get to see you do the thing you love so dearly?

“I’d like to visit your bakery sometime, if you wouldn’t mind,” Juyeon suddenly says, resting his elbows on the counter as you taste test the icing. “I wanna try all of the desserts you bake.”

“I’m opening later tomorrow morning actually,” you smile, humming in appreciation when the sweetness of the glaze hits your taste buds. “You can come with me to try the fresh batches before I put them out? I’ll warn you though, I get there at like six.”

“AM?” His eyes practically pop out of their sockets.

“Yes, AM.” You laugh, lightly shoving him backwards.

“I’ll put like ten alarms so I can make sure I’m up in time, then.” He pokes his cheek with his tongue, tipping his head to the side. The goofy smile on your face remains even after minutes have passed and the two of you are just waiting for the cinnamon rolls to finish baking.

It feels like hours have gone by with the two of you standing there when they’re finally ready. The ding of the oven has you springing into action, putting on some oven mitts and taking out the baking sheet. Juyeon's eyes light up and even though you’d just been losing your mind over how insane he was making you, you find yourself cooing at him.

He laughs as you grab a couple spare icing bags for the cinnamon roll glaze, filling them generously. You hand one over to him and decide to split the rolls evenly, icing one half yourself while he does the other. And for once, you think that tonight might end normally. You think that nothing eventful will happen and you’ll just ice the cinnamon rolls without problems.

But you were wrong, like always.

“Ah, shit—”

You glance up from the roll you were glazing to see what the fuss was about. Juyeon’s icing bag tore somehow, the sticky topping getting all over his hand. Truly, you were no better than a man, with the filthy thoughts inhabiting your brain almost instantaneously.

He brings his hand up to his mouth, licking the glaze off the back of his hand and wrapping his lips around his thumb. You felt dizzy, drunk on the sight of your extremely attractive neighbor doing something so sensual without even trying to. You bite your lip, accidentally dropping your own icing bag due to lack of attention.

Juyeon smirks slightly, relishing in the way it takes absolutely nothing to hypnotize you with his hands alone. He really tried to keep himself contained. He really wanted you to extend the first olive branch, but he knows you’re apprehensive. So just this once, he tells himself that it’s okay to initiate, to give you a little push in the right direction.

He takes a step closer to you, caging you against the counter. You stare up at him with wide, doe eyes, as if you were completely innocent despite the naughty images flashing behind them. Juyeon brings his thumb up to your lips, the pad of it still covered in icing.

“Think you could clean this up for me?” He asks, voice low and husky. You could actually combust with that all on its own.

Just like your formal introduction, you don’t give yourself the time to think, and act, instead, running your tongue along the length of his thumb. Juyeon doesn’t restrain the groan in the back of his throat, holding your face in his hands and pulling you in for a kiss.

You reciprocate immediately, fisting his hoodie like it was the only thing capable of stabilizing you. Maybe it was, with the way Juyeon’s lips synchronized with yours and his fingers tangled in your hair. You thought the ground would swallow you whole and wake you up from this dream. On what planet did someone like Lee Juyeon like a girl like you?

His hands slide down your body, groping everything in their path desperately before cupping under your thighs and lifting you onto the counter. He knocks the baking sheet of cinnamon rolls out of the way, palms rubbing up and down the sides of your legs. You want more, so much more, but you’re afraid to ask. You’re afraid to start something you’re not even sure you can emotionally handle.

Juyeon senses your hesitation, detaching from you momentarily. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want. I understand if you still need time.”

“N-No, I want this— I want you— I'm just… scared.” You breathe, your forehead using his shoulder for support.

“I'm not him, Y/N. I can give you the world if you’d let me. I’d never do what he did to you, that’s a promise.” He holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissing the crown of your head.

“Okay,” you nod, smiling up at him. “I trust you, Juyeon.”

You reconnect your lips as his fingers slip beneath your pajama shorts, toying with the waistband of your panties. His lips curl up when he feels you squirm, legs parting to make more room for him in the middle of them. You sigh, body shuddering when he drags his knuckle down your clothed slit.

Juyeon hooks his fingers into your shorts and underwear, hauling them down your legs. You place your hands behind you to brace yourself, a shiver trailing your spine when the cool air of your apartment hits your warm core. He groans again at the sight of you bare for him, using two fingers to spread your lower lips.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he swears, his thumb slowly circling your clit.

You whine, tossing your head back as he applies more pressure. Bit by bit, you begin to lose yourself to the pleasure of Juyeon’s gorgeous hands. Soon the stimulation on your clit amplifies when he adds another finger, thrusting it in and out of your entrance. He curls deep inside of you, like he was reaching for something he’d left.

One finger turns to two, and before you know it, Juyeon’s openly finger fucking you on the counter. He leans over your body to keep your lips together, kissing you sloppily while all his focus is on drawing you to the edge. You can almost taste it, your saccharine release in your field of vision now.

It’s a little embarrassing how quickly he was able to wind you up and trip you over the edge, but you feel too euphoric to care. You pause in your kiss to look down at his handy work. (No pun intended.) It makes your head feel foggy and your vision blurry to see his deft fingers fucking you open, veins bulging, like he’d done this many times before. Your hooded eyes follow them up his forearms, a whine escaping your lips.

A particular curl of his fingers and circle of his thumb have you clenching around him, creaming like you’d never had an orgasm in your life. He doesn’t slow his assault, bringing you down just to put you back up on that summit once again. The overstimulation has you cumming a second time in a matter of what felt like seconds, whimpers becoming voluminous moans.

Juyeon kisses you softly, gently pulling out his fingers to lick them clean like he did with the cinnamon roll glaze. A choked groan bubbles past your mouth, tossing an arm over your eyes. He laughs, towing you to the edge of the counter.

He brushes some stray hairs out of your face, moving your arm to smile dopily at you. “I hope you know I was being serious about the whole treating you better thing. If you’ll give me the chance.”

“I know. I told you I trust you, remember?” You nip at the inside of your cheek. His eyes crinkle up like they tend to do when he’s smiling so genuinely. It forces the wind out of you, because how could you ever get used to a sight so stunning?

“You’re so cute.” He laughs, kissing all around your face and smushing your cheeks together.

“Juyeon,” you mumble. “I’m half naked…”

“Even better,” he grins, pecking the tip of your nose. “Makes it that much easier to do all of the other things I wanna do to you.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon smut #juyeon x reader #juyeon smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

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eli0004 · 2 months

Text

Fuck me With Feelings

Pairing: Fwb!Jean Kirstein x reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Jean and reader have been casually fucking, but Jean quickly learns that the whole no strings attached thing isn’t working for him. After confessing to reader, he’s unsatisfied with her response, but neglects to say anything and resumes their meetups as usual. He quickly finds out how badly he misunderstood, when the two of them engage in some very heavy, passionate and emotional sex on the kitchen floor.

Contains: marijuana usage, fem!reader, unprotected sex, fwb arrangement, praise, slight overstimulation, jean talks too much, biting, possessiveness, pining, jean is in love and SO soft for reader, fluffy shit, yk…the usual, no power dynamics.

“Wait…grab me the salt” You speak, lowering the cookbook to look at the tall male standing in front of you.

“Salt.” Jean announces as he sets the small white shaker on the counter beside you. You nod curtly, glancing at him out of the corner of your bleary red eyes with a smile as you turn back to the mixing bowl in front of you. Time is moving in slow motion, and all you can think about is getting some food in your stomach.

“Thanks. Now, it says we’re supposed to pour the mixture into the pan? Wait…shit, aren’t we supposed to butter the pan first?”

The two of you look at each other in shared confusion for a moment, before he begins laughing. You scoff in annoyance, rolling your eyes and shoving the cook book towards him to see for himself.

“Jesus Jean, can you be serious for 5 minutes?” You glare. The sandy-blonde stops laughing and looks at you with an unreadable expression, brown eyes glimmering with mischief before you both erupt in laughter.

As the giggles die out, he pokes at your side, causing you to jump in surprise, before stepping away from the counter.

“Alright alright, out of the way.” He sighs happily, taking the bowl from your hand. “Just leave it to the professional.” He turns up his nose, grinning playfully, as you roll your eyes and groan at his feigned arrogance. You slap his shoulder as you move away from the counter to change the music playing through your kitchen speaker.

It’s a Friday night, and the rain is coming down in sheets, slamming against your windows aggressively. Jean, dressed in a pair of grey sweats and a black oversized hoodie, had come over earlier in the evening as he has so many times before, although this time in particular, different from the rest. His demeanor had seemed slightly off, and it was clear something was on his mind, though he only seemed frustrated when you’d initially prodded.

The two of you had been seeing each other for months in secret, having mutual friends who would tease you both relentlessly if they found out you two were fucking. Because that’s all it was anyway, just harmless fucking. No strings attached, just blowing off steam. There wasn’t any need to announce it, and the both of you would’ve rather kept your business to yourselves anyway.

As time went on, however, Jean found himself hopelessly in love, having accidentally attached all the strings you’d told him to leave unattached. Your twinkling eyes, your sweet smile, the first thought he thinks in the morning, the last one of the night. Unbeknownst to him, the feeling was mutual, and you’d also quickly found yourself wanting to spend more time together outside of the bedroom. Earlier that morning, in a burst of courage Jean had texted you:

“i don’t think i can keep fucking with no feelings. I’m sorry…i just don’t know how to turn them off.”

Without much thought, you typed out a response:

“Ok…fuck me with feelings then. Duh.”

And that was that. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, stomach in knots all day, and a permanent frown etched onto his face. He felt defeated, stupid, for thinking he could stay away from you even if you didn’t feel the same.

The day progressed as usual, Jean arrived at your place 8 PM as usual, the two of you got violently high together as usual. By midnight, hungry and handsy, the two of you ended up in the kitchen trying to follow a recipe for skillet gnocchi, despite your altered cognitive abilities.

“Professional” Jean Kirstein is actually pretty good at cooking when he isn’t stoned out of his mind. But the task at hand is proving to be difficult now. The man stares at the skillet on the stove in confusion as you flip through your Spotify playlist. Recognizing the silence, you turn to him and glance over his shoulder.

“Everything ok over there?” You ask, raising a brow.

“Nothing is happening.” He states, matter of factly.

“Did you turn on the stove?”

“Oh..” He blushes furiously, thick brows pulling together as he scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Well, shit” You immediately burst into laughter, slapping his shoulder a second time, affectionately.

“Wow! So “professional” of you!” You all but shout, doubled over against the counter and clutching your stomach. He rolls his hazy honey brown eyes, unamused at your exploitative jokes.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” He grumbles, turning away from you to find the stove dial. You sigh contentedly as your laughter subsides.

“Oh Jeanbo~ you’re so fucking cute…” you hum mindlessly, gazing at him with a dopey smile.

…

Jean freezes. It’s the first time he’s ever really heard you say something like that, and the affection dripping from your words has his stomach fluttering and his mind reeling. It’s unfair, really, and it irritates him. He turns to look at you in surprise, brows furrowed, eyes meeting yours before he looks to the ceiling. His reddened cheeks puff out as he contemplates a response.

“Uh…you mean that?” He asks, suddenly feeling vulnerable. His eyes scan your face for any signs of dishonesty, wondering if you might be playing with his heart to get what you want from him. The way you’ve been speaking to him tonight is so drastically different than how you’ve been treating him for the last few months. Not that you’ve been treating him poorly, you’ve just never been this open about how you feel towards him. Your words feel deliberate and meaningful whereas before you’d only compliment him like that when your eyes were lust-blown and your hands were all over his body.

“Obviously, i thought we established that this morning” you deadpan, head tilting to the side.

“No, not really, i actually had no idea what to make of it.”

There’s a moment of silence as you two stare at each other, before the realization hits and you begin to feel guilty. Had your message not been as clear as you’d initially hoped it would be? Unsure of what to say, you close your mouth. Jean takes your silence as confirmation, and sighs, shoulders slumping dejectedly, quietly turning back to the stove to turn it on.

Thinking for a moment, you frown, drawing shapes on the countertop with eyes cast down like a kicked puppy. Wiggling out of your seat, you approach him where he stands at the stove, gazing up at him with a soft, nearly sympathetic smile. He doesn’t dare look at you, afraid his burning face will betray him, knocking down his mask of fragile-aloofness.

“Jean…” you tilt your head to the side, hair falling over your shoulder. Bringing a hand to his back, you draw slow, gentle circles there. He shivers, but his silence is unwavering. “Baby~ you know something?” You hum.

Jean glances at you and shrugs, tossing some stuff you don’t care to look at into the pan.

“I think you’re so handsome. I think you’re adorable, and goofy, and sweet. I think anyone would be lucky to be the object of your affection. I feel lucky that i get to be…” you coo at him, your hand dipping below his hoodie to scratch his bare back, how he likes it. He can’t help but smile at your words, blinking slowly as he turns to look down at you, your faces only a few inches apart from each other. “Yeah?” He whispers “go on”

You snort, rolling your eyes playfully at his blatant request for praise, and reach out to click the stove off, having a feeling about where this was going to lead.

“You’re funny, you always make me laugh…“ you whisper “You’re strong” squeezing his bicep slightly with your other hand, you rake your eyes down his body. “So sexy~”

The man’s cheeks are impossibly red, his head is spinning and his body feels like it’s burning up as he listens to you sing his praises. He glances down at your lips, nearly nose to nose with you as he grins. “What else?”

You smirk, beckoning him to turn and face you head on and pressing your body against his own. Your hands place themselves on his chest as you murmur “You’re all mine.”

Something feral snaps within him and he all but attacks your lips, pinning your hips against the counter with his own. Your hands scramble to grab onto the fabric of his hoodie, desperately yanking at it as you peel it off of him. Your lips dance together fervently, pressing against each other with such passion, as if he’s worried you’ll slip away from him if he doesn’t hold you tightly enough.

He shoves his hands under your college sweatshirt, running his warm palms over your bare breasts and brushing his thumbs over your peaked nipples. His touch draws a sharp gasp from your mouth against his lips, and he swallows the sound of it.

You lick against his bottom lip and he accepts it urgently, parting his lips and moving his eager tongue in rhythm with your own. Tangling your hands into the roots of his sandy blonde hair, you push your hips forward to grind against his erection and he throbs, soft, sweet groans muffled against your lips.

Jean grips your waist tightly, pulling you against him as he backs himself up against the counter, sliding down to the floor. Pulling you on top of him, he settles you against his lap, tossing his head back when your lips attach to the column of his throat.

“Fuck baby…fuck” he gasps, feeling you sucking bruises into the skin. All visible places, and he knows why. The possessiveness, the feeling of finally belonging to you, it sends waves of intense arousal coursing through his bloodstream. Every movement you make, grinding your hips down against his hard cock sends his mind reeling with pleasure, senses wildly heightened by the pot in your systems.

“Gonna tell everyone that you’re mine baby, i’m so…fuck- happy you’re mine” he groans, guiding your hips to move against. You gasp softly at the friction, becoming increasingly wetter by the minute.

You pull away and quickly shimmy out of your pants, as best as you can while straddling the man’s lap. He brings his fingers down, eyeing the cute panties you wear before yanking them aside to collect your arousal on his fingers.

“Fuck..you’re so wet for me, all for me” he growls as he dips his slick digits into your pussy. His fingers are long, nimble, and curl up deliciously into the spongy spot inside you. You moan softly, feeling every inch of his middle and forefinger in places that your own fingers could never hope to reach.

“Oh god..Jean~ Fuck me” you moan out, rutting against his hand. He slides his fingers out of your hole, rubbing them against your clit and covering it in your own arousal. Tossing your head back, you groan at the loss of internal sensation, but you have no time to be disappointed as you hear him eagerly yanking the waistband of his sweats and underwear down to let his aching cock spring free. He’s leaking more than you’ve ever seen, precum dripping down the slit of his sensitive head and collecting below his navel.

Leaning in for another eager kiss, you swat his hand away and wrap your fingers around his shaft. He’s so deliciously thick, you can almost feel the stretch, the memory of it causing your cunt to throb. Biting his lip gently, you give him a few languid strokes, spreading the sticky precum over the length of him and guiding him to your entrance. His mind is hazy, he jolts as the sensation overwhelms him. You feel different this time, though he can’t pinpoint why.

You slide his tip through the slick folds of your pussy, before enveloping him in your wet warmth. jean nearly chokes on the strangled moan that erupts from his chest as you pull away from the kiss to toss your head back, breathing out a soft “fuck”.

His hands eagerly grip your waist, guiding you up and down on him slow and passionate. The pleasure coursing through him is building quickly in the form of an impending, earth shattering orgasm at the very core of his abdomen. The coil in his tummy, while not unfamiliar, is seemingly more intense than it’s ever been, he won’t last long. Why is he getting close so fast?

Suddenly it occurs to him as you bring your lips back to his own, kissing him passionately, and packed full of raw, unfiltered emotion. He feels wanted, he feels loved, he feels complete. Perhaps it’s the intimacy of having himself sheathed inside of you raw for the first time, it must be. Sex with you has never felt so intense and fulfilling than it does in this moment.

Your hips are moving quicker now as you chase your orgasm, every inch, every ridge, every vein of his length stroking your insides like it was hand crafted to fit there. Feeling your legs tense up, and your stomach begin to tighten, you throw your arms around Jean’s neck and pull him close, biting down on the muscle of his broad shoulder as you cum impossibly hard, eyes rolling back with a loud moan. He snakes his arms around your waist, holding you tightly there as he snaps his hips up into you, slamming into your cervix like his life depends on it. The feeling of your teeth in his skin threatens to push him over the edge.

“Baby! Right there- oh god keep doing that, don’t let go of me!” He rasps against the shell of your ear, and as you sink your teeth in deeper, mewling softly at the overstimulation, Jean cums with such intensity, he thinks he might ascend. More and more spurts out of him, and his body convulses with every rope of it, lurching him forward to moan loudly, muffled into your hair.

The sound of ragged breaths and sharp gasps echo off the kitchen walls as you both come down from the high of your orgasm, bodies tangled together and unmoving. After a minute, Jean’s hand finds itself in your hair, running his fingers through it affectionately. Something he’s wanted to do for a long time. He gazes down at you with adoration replacing old lust, smiling softly as you pull back to look at him.

The two of you stay that way for a minute or two, just panting against each other before he speaks.

“So…uh- does this mean-“ he glances down at the floor and then back up to meet your eyes.

“You’re never gonna get away from me” you grin, plopping down against his chest in exhaustion as you giggle slightly. He bites his lip, excitement bubbling up in him like a little kid, as he holds you tightly.

“Why would i ever wanna?”

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alienpossession · 4 months

Text

Continuing the Dubai aliens story a bit after some additional inspo by the one and only @cleanstatevessels

The Prince

Story by cleanstatevessels with revision and add-on from me

The alien now in charge of the Prince's body smirk at the reflection of the very handsome, fresh-from-workout Prince looking back. It tried to get comfortable in its new vessel, making several silly and sexy expression interchangably, pushing the Prince's usually stoic and calm demeanor to be borderline unhinged and certainly not Prince-like. But again, he's the Prince now, not the biggest or the most important one in terms of influence among his half-siblings, yet it's not like plain commoner can tell him what to do. Certainly not his brain-fucked bodyguards too, as the whole security details and servants of the Prince in his residence already turned into empty husks that run on autopilot, empty but ready to be filled by any sludge that needed human bodies to ride on.

After inspecting the body's internal organ condition post-takeover, the sludge tried to get lodged in comfortably within the brain and wholly encapsulated it for full control. The movement caused the Prince's eyes rolled back from it socket as his mouth gaped in an unusual size as black sludge was seen coming out of his throat. It oozes out from his mouth like an oil flow and the alien's vision activated alongside the vision from its vessel's eyes, making the sludge able to see the world in a much-more enhanced view as it combined its vessel's vision and its own. The bird in the very far distance, the shade of colors only captured by the alien's eyes, the vision of the alien is better to capture things in the distance rather than close proximity so the takeover actually completed the vision. While doing all that, the muscle of the Prince's body tensed as the alien made the Prince flexed his arm to give access to the black sludge to reach his pits as the sludge lapped up all the leftover sweat from the Prince's workout. It seems like the movement of the sludge all over his body turned him on as the outline of the Prince's cock straining its brief and had a damp patch on the tip. But of course that was not the case since the Prince is nothing but an empty husk, it was all the alien doing after absorbing all the info from the Prince's mind about the things that turned him on, and the alien just simply enjoyed playing with its plaything, showcasing his control over its vessel. The black sludge eventually withdrew back to the Prince throat and his eyes went back to normal as his gaped mouth also closed. Then, he grinned deviously,

"Ahmed, Yahya, come in here. Your Prince needs some services from his brainless slave!"

Piotr the Firm Owner

After the hard-fought takeover eventually proven to be successful, Piotr resumed the realty business as usual.

It's never a hard day to find new client as Piotr's firm already well-known beforehand anyway, and with Sander, Mike and Andrei spreading the word to their friends, high-powered clientele always walked in and out of the door of the firm. Of course they don't convert everyone that walked in, but with the alien in control, they sharpened the type of client they provided their services for. In his first client after the takeover, Piotr met with discreet entrepreneur named Dusan Kovacevic.

The alien inside Piotr cannot find any information about Dusan, nor the search on the internet resulted in something that can explain how on Earth this person seemingly ready to pay 55 million USD in cash for this 3-level penthouse that has the entire 360 view of Dubai. But mid-way on the tour around the unit, Dusan's phone started ringing. As the built Serbian hunk excused himself to the balcony after saying some Russian words, the black sludge oozed out from Piotr's ear and started snooping to know what is he talking about with the caller. To get the best of both senses, the sludge dangled itself right on Piotr's ear in order for it to not only captured the conversation, but to also utilized Piotr's ability to speak Russian to translate the conversation. The phone call revealed to the alien that Dusan is a major arms dealer with the cover of working on fitness startup and crypto trading and that caused the little black sludge to be excited, which translated into Piotr's hardening cock as the alien mind already filled with plans to advance their effort for Earth's domination

It returned back inside Piotr's brain after satisfied with the intel despite Dusan seemingly continued his conversation. Then, the alien quickly split itself and merged its half into Piotr's saliva that then he spits on the glass of whiskey Dusan asked for earlier. With a smirk, he waited for the phone call to be finished and upon return, he casually offered Dusan with the tainted liquor. With no suspicion whatsoever, the arms dealer chugged the whiskey and not for long, the glass shattered to the floor as Dusan realized something's off. He tried to run for his life to the bathroom he saw earlier, trying to grav whatever is blocking his airway and seemingly filled his mouth too. Yet, his resistant proven to be futile as he slouched head first to the floor right in front of the bathroom. His body wriggled and convulsed wildly like he's being possessed by some demonic entities while Piotr watched in delight of his apparent success. The twisting, stretching and turning caused his tight-fitting shirt to be ripped apart and then soon after, the Louis Vuitton jacket followed suit, revealing tattooed body and sheen of sweat that showcased the internal battle the sludge faced from Dusan's body.

Several minutes later, and in a faster manner compared to the way Piotr's body taken over and recovered, Dusan already on his feet looking at Piotr with a mischievous grin. He looked at the destroyed fabric around him and let out a chuckle as he started to flex his muscle in delight. Piotr beamed with pride looking at his first successful acquisition, certainly the first out of many.

----

Not even 15 minutes after the whole handover process, as Piotr arrived in the apartment's parking lot, an Instagram story from Dusan's account already popped. Piotr smiled with delight looking at Dusan's immaculate form, is this a hookup call for the masses or something? Is he really going to work on his plan to get one new body every day to the cause literally from tonight? That guy seemed ready to rumble though

When Piotr finished with some paperwork of his own in the office and ready to hit home, a DM notification sent by Dusan entered his phone. A picture, followed by a caption that said

"Like moth to flames, everyone want a piece of this heat, not knowing it hurts them in the end of the day. Bet you can guess who is the moth here hahah,"

And then another ominous DM followed suit

"One down, more to go,"

Sander & Andrei + Mike

"Let me go! Fuck, I know there's something up with you two freaks! Ugghhhh get that shit away from me!" screamed the tied Mike as he tried to wriggle himself free while pushing away the cum-soaked socks that belonged to Andrei that Sander teased right in front of his flushed face. As Mike tried to push the socks away one more time, Sander instantly went violent and choked the handsome rich brat until his head hit the headboard behind him. Gagged and gasping for breath, Mike's opened mouth suddenly stuffed with the damp socks that Sander shoved violently that almost lead to Mike's jaw to be broken. Andrei then raised his voice in anger

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? YOU CAN KILL HIM!"

"Oh shut up, when I'm inside him, he will be fucking fine anyway. It's not like he's being destroyed by cannonball or something, relax, he's still breathing,"

Sander then stared at the half-conscious Mike with eyes that clearly indicate something bad is about to happen.

"Yeah, you heard it right. I'm going to get inside you, making you just another dumb muscle puppet to control around. Your body will serve greater purpose rather than this vapid existence you currently have, so you should be thanking us,"

Mike frowned in his last few seconds, the image of a black sludge coming out of Sander's mouth and nose become the last vision he encountered before the world goes dark for him

----

Mike cracked his neck and jaw, opening it wide and closing it in quick succession as he tried to ensure that it's not broken or anything as he looked at the two "realtor" that taken him captive since a couple hours ago. His first word to them

"Fuck you,"

And the three of them just laughing loudly right after, with Mike directly standing up and proceed to hug his two brothers

"What a fine stud this guy is. You two have keen eye for the strong and delectable," he said as he then dropped his grey sweatpants to reveal a dangling 7 inches beer can of a meat

"What can we say? We are bunch of narcissist, so we know the standard of good body and good looks as we based it on ourselves. The brain's good?" asked Andrei as he gently grabbed the dick for quick inspection before he let it flop as he now focused his sight to Mike's face

"Perfect. A smooth talker, with killer looks too. Deadly duo for the humans near him. The wealth certainly put him into an even higher level of privileged brat. Such a blessed young man. Well, I am such a blessed young man," Mike said as he proudly flexed his biceps while his cock goes rock hard. A rather massive grower, as it reaches close to 10 inches when hard and that hardening dick casually grazed Sander's dress pants

Sander found the dick to be highly intriguing because not only it's uncut unlike what he and Andrei have, it's also curved slightly. But despite of the tempting thought to test that dick and see how different of a sensation it's going to be, Sander just coughed instead as he said

"Hmm....as much as we want to help you get acquainted with that body of yours, what we learn best is the fact that self-discovery is more fulfilling and can help accelerate the memory absorption, so here's the key of this unit and we'll let you have your fun. See you next week in our office for consolidation with the Prince, okay?"

Mike just said "hmmm" in understanding as he let the two realtors left him while he checks his own reflection in the wide bathroom mirror. He decided to wrap a towel around his waist, a vision he gained from absorbing the memories that belonged to Mike, and checks his reflection. Like an instinct, he fished out his phone from his pants right outside the bathroom and then posed for a selfie, just like the real Mike would do everytime he stumbled upon a new gorgeous mirror that can reflect his sculpted physique beautifully

The more memories of Mike it absorbed, the more aroused the alien become. When the memories of the countless volleys of load that Mike's massive cock shot into those tight holes and even faces and hands started to fill his mind, the alien couldn't help itself but mimicked the memories as it guided Mike's hands to tug his massive meaty pole. As it gets faster and faster, more and more memories poured into his mind and when it feels this impending pressure right on the tip of his cockhead ready to explode, he let out a massive roar as his body trembled violently with the release of what it could remember as the biggest load Mike ever shot in his life. It went on and on for 1 minutes straight before his body simply slumped back to the bathtub, panting for breath as the coagulating load started to sink and stick to his body. He let out a chuckle

"Guess I'm doing a better job than you ever did throughout your life, maybe you like me in control after all,"

#alien possession #male possession #alien expansion #alien takeover #alien transference #male puppet

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suddencolds · 1 month

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Atypical Occurrence [1/?]

Happy birthday to my dear friend, @caughtintherain!! I wanted to give you some Vincent suffering to chew on for the occasion, so please take this fic (or, first part of a fic) as a gift <3

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I’ve written for these two! chronologically, this fic takes place a month or so after the last installment leaves off :)

Summary: Vincent shows up late to a meeting. It just goes downhill from there. (ft. fake dating, the flu, a house visit)

—

Vincent is late.

Yves tries not to stare at the empty seat across from him. The meeting—their first meeting of the day—started five minutes ago. If there’s anything Yves knows, it’s that Vincent always comes in early.

In stumbles Cara, handling a morning coffee with probably more espresso shots than anyone should have at 8am. Then Laurent, briefcase in one hand, paging through a folder of files in his other. Then Angelie, Isaac, Garrett, Ray, Sienna. Then they get started, and Yves turns his attention towards the graphs projected onscreen at the front of the room, and tries very hard not to think about Vincent.

It’s five minutes later that the door swings open, near-silent.

Sienna—who’s presenting—stops, for a moment, to look back at Vincent from where he’s standing in the doorway, which means that of course, everyone looks.

Cara turns around in her seat, raising an eyebrow. Angelie frowns at him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Vincent says, quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

Isaac shrugs. Angelie looks a little concerned, but she turns back to her work, anyways. Sienna resumes her presentation. All in all, it’s nothing—or it should be nothing. Probably traffic, on the way here; a particularly unlucky commute. An unlikely occurrence, but—to anyone else—not anything worth dwelling over.

It might be a sufficient explanation, if Yves didn’t know better.

Vincent takes care to close the door quietly behind him, then heads over to the only open seat, across from Yves. He unzips his briefcase, quietly, unobtrusively, and takes out his laptop. Yves tries to focus on what Sienna is saying—she’s giving a review of a client’s current investment strategies; he’d reviewed her work on this just a couple days ago.

Vincent asks good questions throughout—he always has a good sense of what areas still lack clarity, Yves has found. Today is no exception. He takes part in the meeting with such calculated precision that Yves almost misses it.

Almost misses: the slight stiffness to his shoulders, as if it’s taking more than the usual amount of effort to keep himself upright. The way in which he clears his throat before speaking, like it might actually hurt. The way he rests his head on one hand, halfway into the meeting—as if even now, barely forty minutes into the workday, he’s already exhausted.

It’s subtle enough to go unnoticed, subtle enough that Yves wonders if he’s just reading too much into it—if, perhaps, Vincent is fine, after all.

—

He doesn’t see Vincent again until lunch.

Or, more accurately, he doesn’t see Vincent again until he’s headed down for lunch with Cara and Laurent. Vincent is already on his way out of the cafeteria, a takeout container in hand.

“You’re not going to eat here?” Yves asks.

Vincent doesn’t look at him. “I have some work to get done at my desk,” he says. He clears his throat again, like it’s irritating him.

“Okay,” Yves says. Vincent turns to leave, and Yves thinks of a hundred ways in which he could possibly prolong this conversation, and then decides against it. Vincent is already so busy.

“You look tired,” he settles on, instead.

He expects Vincent to dismiss this, to reassure him that it isn’t true. But Vincent looks up at him at last, blinking, as if he’s surprised that Yves noticed at all. His eyes are a little dark-rimmed underneath his glasses.

He doesn’t deny it, which is as much of a confirmation as Yves needs.

“The sooner I can get this work done, the sooner I can go home,” he says. Yves supposes he can’t argue with that.

“I guess I’ll see you around, then,” Yves says, even though he wants to say more, even though he feels like there’s more that he should be saying. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vincent nods, at this, and resumes walking.

—

Yves is probably overthinking it. There isn’t anything concrete, really, to justify his concern.

Vincent’s lateness to the meeting could just as easily be the consequence of an alarm he’d forgotten to set, his exhaustion just as easily a side effect—of recent late nights in the office, of arbitrary changes to the projects he’s on, of last-minute demands from clients.

The next time he sees Vincent is at the end of the work day. Yves always takes the elevators on the north end of the building—they’re ones that lead directly out into the parking garage. When he gets out to the hallway, Vincent is already standing there, waiting for the elevator.

Yves watches Vincent stiffen, slightly. Watches him raise one hand up to his face to shudder into it with a harsh, “HHihH’iKKTSh-hUH!”

A thin tremor runs through the line of his shoulders, as if he’s too cold, even though the office air conditioning is no colder than usual. His hand, cupped to his face, remains there for a moment more before he lowers it.

He sniffles, then, rummaging through his pocket for—something. When he doesn’t find it, he just frowns a little, sniffling again.

“Bless you,” Yves says.

“Yves,” Vincent says, his shoulders stiffening a little. He clears his throat, turning around so that he can address Yves properly.

It’s only a few seconds later that he’s turning sharply away, tenting both hands over his nose and mouth for—

“Hh-! hHiH—HIHh’DZSSschh-uhh! snf-!”

“Bless you again.”

Vincent sighs. “Don’t bother.” He really looks exhausted, Yves realizes. During their brief interaction at lunch, he’d already sensed as much, but the harsh white glare of the bright corporate lighting only makes it more evident.

Vincent looks a little paler than usual, if only slightly, and there’s a slight flush that spreads itself over his cheekbones. He looks—well, nearly as put together as always, distilled only by the slight crookedness of his tie, as if it’s been on too tight; the near-invisible sheen of sweat over his forehead. The slight redness to the bridge of his nose, the slight shiver to his hand as he reaches up to adjust his collar.

Yves frowns, taking this all in. “You look kind of…”

“Terrible?” Vincent finishes for him.

Yves winces. “...Well, terrible is a strong word. I was going to say, you look like you could use some sleep.”

“I’m… feeling a little off,” Vincent says, staring straight ahead, as if it’s not an admission at all. But Yves suspects, from the way he avoids eye contact, that perhaps it was something he was intending on keeping private. “You should keep your distance.”

The elevator dings. The sliding doors part, and he steps inside.

“First floor?” Yves asks, hesitating next to the panel of buttons.

“Yes,” Vincent says. Then, quietly: “Thanks.”

“You know, now that busy season is over, the world is not going to end if you take a sick day,” Yves tells him. “Even if you do like, twice the amount of work as everyone else on the team, if you needed to call out, I’m sure something could be arranged.”

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly. “I must look pretty bad if you’re saying this to me.”

“Yes, I was lying,” Yves says. “Clearly, you look terrible.”

It isn’t true at all—even here, even like this, Vincent doesn’t look terrible, not even in the least. But Vincent still smiles, at this—a tired smile.

The elevator doors slide open.

“Text me if you need anything,” Yves says, impulsively. “Seriously. Tissues, soup, medicine—whatever. It’s not far of a drive.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Vincent says. “I will see you tomorrow.” And then he steps out of the elevator, and Yves is left with an inexplicable sinking feeling in his stomach. As far as he knows, it has no place there. Obviously, Vincent can take care of himself. Obviously, Vincent can handle a cold. Yves has nothing to be concerned about.

—

The next day is rainy—a constant, torrential downpour, which makes his commute to work take almost twice as long as it usually does. It wouldn’t be spring here, Yves supposes, without dreary weather like this.

Back in uni, when he rowed crew, they’d practice out for hours out in the rain. Now that he spends the majority of his day inside, he supposes he can’t complain. The shelter of the office building is a reprieve.

Vincent doesn’t show up.

“I think he’s out sick,” Cara says, when Yves asks. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t think I’ve actually seen him take a sick day before.”

“For how hard he works, he definitely deserves one,” Garrett says.

“He seemed fine yesterday, when I saw him,” Cara says, with a shrug. “Probably came on quickly.” Yves nods.

But that isn’t quite right, is it? Vincent hadn’t seemed fine, had he? Yves thinks back to the things he’d noticed—Vincent, uncharacteristically exhausted during the meeting, though it was clear he’d been just as engaged as usual. Vincent, shivering in the elevator, telling Yves to keep his distance. How poorly had he been feeling already, yesterday? How poorly does he have to be feeling today to have called off of work for it?

He finds some time just before lunch to text.

Y: how are you holding up? Y: yesterday’s offer stands if you need me to bring you anything!

He doesn’t get a response from Vincent, which is a little concerning. He checks his phone halfway through lunch, and then twice more, in between his afternoon meetings, just in case he’s missed a notification.

“Are you expecting a text from someone?” Cara says, looking a little curious.

“Just a friend,” Yves says, which is and isn’t true.

To make a point—to Cara, and possibly to himself—he shuts his phone off. He very pointedly does not look at it again for the remainder of the hour.

It’s not until mid-afternoon that he finally gets a response.

V: Sorry to get back to you so late.

Yves sits upright, fumbling with his phone to get it unlocked. The text bubble pops up again, somewhat intermittently, to show that Vincent is typing.

V: If it’s not too much trouble, there’s a blue folder on my desk labeled 2-A.

Yves blinks at this, a little disbelieving.

Y: you’re asking me to bring you work files? Y: arent you supposed to be resting 🤨 Y: paid sick leave, remember? as in, leave your work at work??

V: I meant to pack them yesterday.

Y: that’s like a genie grants you 3 wishes and you ask for an extra day of assignments Y: terrible waste of a wish if you ask me

V: As a genie, you’re quite judgmental

Y: ok ok Y: as your loyal lamp dweller i’ll be over around 8pm with folder 2-A Y: you need anything else?

V: Nothing else V: You can just leave them outside my door

A beat. Then Vincent sends:

V: Sorry to trouble you

Yves thinks of twenty responses he wants to send to that text. Then, thinking better of himself, he shuts his phone off and gets back to work.

—

It’s a little past seven when he finally checks out of the office.

Outside, the rain hasn’t even begun to let up—it falls, straight and heavy, in large, globular droplets. The streets gleam with water. Yves leaves his umbrella in the trunk, tunes out everything but the static of the rainfall, and drives.

Yves has only ever been to Vincent’s apartment once—to pick him up for the New Years’ party Margot hosted—and even then, Vincent had met him at the door. But he recognizes the unit, nonetheless.

For a moment, he considers leaving the folder of files outside of Vincent’s door and taking his leave.

But it’s windy, and he’s afraid the papers might fly away, torn up by the biting wind, and get lost face down in a puddle somewhere, which would defeat the purpose of him coming here in the first place, and would probably also breach some employee confidentiality policy. So instead, he knocks.

It’s silent for a moment. Rain beats down on the slanted rooftops, a constant thrum.

Yves is about to reach out to knock again, when the door swings open.

There stands Vincent, in a pale blue hoodie and loose-fitting pajama pants, with neat rectangular cuffs.

He looks tired. It’s the first thing Yves registers—the unusual fatigue to his expression, which he can’t quite seem to blink away; the flush high on his cheekbones. The way he holds himself, his shoulders stiff, carefully, defensively; as if despite his exhaustion, there’s a part of him which wishes to appear presentable still.

It’s only a moment later that he’s taking a halting step back, ducking into a hoodie sleeve. Yves catches the shiver of his expression, his eyebrows pulling together, before it crumples, and his head jerks forward with a harsh—

“hHihh’GKkTT—! Hh-!! iHH-’DZZSCHh-uuUh!”

The second sneeze sounds louder and harsher than usual, even muffled into the fabric of his sleeve. It betrays his congestion all at once.

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent emerges, sniffling a little. When he speaks, he sounds a little hoarser than he did yesterday. “I thought I said you - snf-! - could leave them on the front step.”

“You did,” Yves says, glancing down at the folder in his hands. “But it’s windy, and it’s raining. I figured you’d prefer to have your files intact. How are you feeling?”

Vincent blinks at him. He’s leaning heavily against the doorframe, Yves realizes, one hand gripped tightly around the frame, his knuckles white from the pressure, as if it would take him too much effort to stay upright otherwise.

“Alright,” he answers. “Thanks for making the trip here. I… it must’ve taken longer, in the rain.” He squeezes his eyes shut, as if his head hurts, as if the light coming from outside is exacerbating his headache. “If you ever need me to pick something up for you, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Yves says. Despite himself, he reaches up to press his hand against Vincent’s forehead.

The heat under his fingertips is alarming, to say the least. Yves blinks, lowering his hand, and tries to keep the worry out of his voice. “Have you taken your temperature?”

Vincent shakes his head. “I don’t think I have a thermometer.”

“Have you eaten, then?”

Vincent averts his glance, looking sheepish. “I… was planning to stop for groceries, yesterday,” he says. Planning to.

Yves thinks back to the elevator ride yesterday. Vincent had probably already been feeling very unwell, then. And yet, he’d talked with Yves as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I’m feeling a little off, he’d said, as if anything about his current affliction could possibly be characterized as “little.” I will see you tomorrow—as if he had really, genuinely been intending on showing up at work.

“So I take it that there’s nothing in the fridge, either,” Yves says.

“If it’s any consolation, you’ll be pleased to know that I slept,” Vincent says, in lieu of answering.

Then he shivers—the sort of concerning, full-body shiver that is a little concerning, coming from someone who is usually unaffected by the cold—and Yves is immediately reminded that the door they’re speaking through is open.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“You probably shouldn’t,” Vincent says, before his expression scrunches up, and he’s ducking away with a— “hh—! hHih-II—TSSCHHh-UH! snf-!”, smothered hurriedly into the palm of his hand. He sniffles, emerging with a slight wince. “This came on pretty quickly. It might be the flu.”

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I got my flu shot in the winter. And anyways, I’ll be careful.”

Vincent is quiet, for a moment. Then, frowning, he says, “I’d feel terrible if you caught this.”

That’s the least of Yves’s worries—he doubts he’s going to catch this. Even if he does, it will just mean a few days off of work. Not the end of the world, by any means. Nothing to warrant the expression on Vincent’s face—Vincent looks upset, as if he’ll really can’t think of anything worse than Yves catching this. Like even the thought of it is worth being upset over.

Yves shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, seriously.” He pushes past Vincent to step inside and shuts the door behind him. “Here, I’ll set these down on your desk. Where is it?”

“Down the hallway, to the left,” Vincent says.

Yves takes the folder, leaves his shoes at the door, and heads inside.

Vincent’s bedroom is small and organized—it’s the kind of bedroom that’s tastefully minimal, in the sort of unified manner that implies that everything in it has been carefully arranged. There’s a small white desk in the corner, a stack of files arranged neatly next to Vincent’s laptop, its lid halfway to shut. There’s a bookshelf, leaned up against the wall far; the bottom shelf looks to be filled with textbooks; the top shelf lined with books, both in Korean and in English. The walls are painted slate gray, the carpets lining the floorboards picked out to match, and there are pale blue curtains hanging from the windows, pulled tightly shut.

There are signs here, too, of his illness, but they are subtle. A tissue box, nestled between his pillow and the headboard, half empty. A waste bin at the foot of the bed, conveniently in reach. A small bottle of aspirin on the bedside counter; an empty packet of cough drops sitting at the edge of his nightstand.

Yves sets the folder at the end of Vincent’s desk, next to the rest of his files, and turns to face him.

“You’re not going to work on these until you’re feeling better, right?” he asks.

“Only if I can’t sleep,” Vincent says, which Yves supposes is a satisfactory answer. Then he twists away, his eyebrows furrowing, lifting a loosely clenched fist to his face to cough, and cough.

The cough is harsh and grating—his entire frame shudders with the force of it, his breaths shallow and raspy. He really sounds awful. This must have come on quickly, Yves thinks.

If it’s upsetting, seeing Vincent like this, it’s even worse to be standing here, in his room, doing nothing. So—if only to make himself useful, if only to convince himself that there’s something he can do—Yves ducks out into the kitchen.

The pantry is meticulously organized—glasses lined up in neat rows; stacks of bowls sorted by size. He fills a glass with water, shuts the cabinets, and takes it back to the bedroom.

By the time he gets back, Vincent is sitting at the edge of his bed. His glasses are folded neatly, left at the very edge of the countertop.

“Here,” Yves says, crossing the room, holding out the glass for him to take.

“Thanks,” Vincent says, taking it gingerly from him. He takes a small, tentative sip, and then another—his hands are a little shaky, Yves notices. “You - snf-! - should really go.”

“I’m not entirely convinced you’ll be fine on your own,” Yves says.

“Of course I will be,” Vincent says, with all of his usual certainty. He lays down, pulling the covers over his body. “I have been fine on my own for years.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, Yves supposes. But he doesn’t feel reassured in the least.

“Thank you again for bringing me the files,” Vincent says, at last, shutting his eyes.

“You could’ve asked me to get you groceries,” Yves says. “There’s a supermarket not far from here, right? And you’re out of cough drops.” He takes a few steps over, towards the desk in the corner of the room. “These—” He examines the bottle of ibuprofen on the table. “—are expired.”

“Just because you’ve extended this kindness to me,” Vincent tells him, “doesn’t mean I should take advantage of it.”

Yves blinks, a little taken aback. “It’s only groceries. I wouldn’t have minded, really.”

“See,” Vincent says, with a note of—something in his voice. It sounds a bit like resignation. “That’s just the kind of person you are.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say, to that.

Before he can think up a fitting response, Vincent’s breathing evens out. Yves lets himself listen to the shallow, steady cadence of it. Lets himself acknowledge the heavy, painful feeling in his chest for just a moment. Then he shuts the lights off and heads back out into the hallway.

#snz fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i wanted to end somewhere more conclusive but i was falling asleep at my keyboard trying to end this so #please take this for now 🙏#my fic #it is very late rn so i am scheduling this for the middle of my work day tomorrow... now i need to run to sleep T.T #i will finish off the latter half of the house visit in the not too distant future!#yvverse #ps caughtintherain if you are reading this ily and i am so grateful to you for letting me consult you abt these two 😭😭 and i hope it's #okay for me to post this as a gift jafkhjfslk ANYWAYS pls read this at your leisure and happy birthday again!!!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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I Knew Your Were Trouble When You Walked In 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The clanging is enough to drive you crazy. You snap shut your laptop and let out a huff. A day where you can just stay home and get your work done and the landlord is doing maintenance. It has to be that day.

You check the time and rub your eyes. You look down at your pajama pants mournfully. You’re going to have to wear real clothes. You change into a pair of cords and a gray button up. You pack up your bag and shrug on a jacket as you step into your shoes.

You jingle out with your keys, locking the door behind you before quickly fleeing the echoing metalling thrums. You take the stairs down and tuck your chin down against the crisp autumn air. A tea will help with that, maybe something with a kick of caffeine to wake you up.

The cafe is only a block away. You order some ginger tea and take it to a table in the corner. You set up and hunker down to get through the last of your emails. You cup your chin as you lean your elbow on the table, entranced by the screen.

The rush of the cafe is almost soothing. The white noise helps you get through the overstuffed email sent by your supervisor. Check, check, got that done. You sip your tea as it cools and sit up to type your reply.

“You can have coffee?” The voice interrupts your frantic typing. You look up with brows furrowed. How on earth? “Genuinely curious,” Pete sits across from you, setting his paper cup down on the other end of the table, “with dialysis and everything.”

You blink at him and refocus on your laptop. You don’t want to know how he found you. Whether it’s cruel fate or something more sinister, you have more important things going on.

“You pack a real blow, you know that? I had a bruise and everything,” he complains, “not very nice and I’ll say I’ve been really nice to you.”

You continue to ignore him as you resume your response to Caroline. In hindsight, you would rather sit through the clanking of wrenches and pipes. You swallow your agitation, tuning out the silhouette just on the other side of your screen.

Suddenly, your laptop crushes your hands and your eyes pop up. Pete’s hand lingers on the cover as you snatch your fingers out from under it. You tilt your head in frustration.

“You look like a sweet girl,” he says, “but you’re not, are you?”

“Excuse me?” You hiss.

“Ah, come on, loosen up," he winks.

You shake your head and contemplate your options. You could pack up and go but you risk leading him back to your building. Telling him to go away isn't going to do too much and ignoring him only seems to encourage him.

"You like sweets? They got a great chocolate croissant."

"I'm not hungry," you insist and go back to typing. "I'm busy."

"Lonely too, by the looks of it," he leans forward, "let me buy you something, sweetheart."

Your eyes flick up and you give him a glare. You don't understand this man and he surely doesn't understand you. You're less than interested in any guy but especially not him. Your life has order and you value that. What little you can control, you hold close.

"You don't just come down to the cafe looking like you do and not want attention," he pushes on your laptop again and you stop it from closing. "I mean… how many dudes are gonna hit on a sick girl anyway? I accept you, babe, kidneys and all–"

"That's it," you snap, "get away from me. Now."

"Hey, it's a compliment–"

"Leave. Me. Alone."

"It's fine, we can move past this, I like a little fire–"

You flutter your lashes at him as your chest burns. You want to scream and cry at the same time. You look around, reminding yourself of your audience and take a deep breath.

"I'm asking you nicely…" your voice cracks, betraying you, "to go."

"I didn't do anything wrong–"

"There a problem here?" A deep growl has you shrinking further as Pete turns in his chair to look defiantly up at the man in the black apron.

"No problem. None of your business, bus boy."

The man with the black apron crosses his arms and scoffs, "big problem. I own this place so if you don't leave in the next fifteen seconds, I'll have you trespassed."

"Whatever, bro, me and the lady are having a chat–"

"He bothering you?" The man in the apron asks. You nod, breathless. "On your feet before I throw you on your ass," he growls at Pete.

"Like to see you try," Pete stands and puffs out his chest, "you're getting a one-star, bud." He crushes his cup into the man's apron, spilling the coffee down it, "coffee tastes like dirt anyway."

"Have a good day," the owner sneers, staring until Pete finally retreats, not without sending you a lecherous leer.

You watch after him and swallow, "I'm sorry–"

"You okay?" The man holds the dripping cup, foam on his name tag that reads 'Curtis'.

"Yeah, thanks," you murmur, "I didn't mean to make a scene."

"No worries, you need anything, just ask for Curt," he gives a curt bow and backs away, leaving your to wallow in a stormy rush of nerves.

#pete brenner #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #pete brenner x reader #drabble #series #pain hustlers #i knew you were trouble when you walked in

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studiokayotic · 3 months

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Secret site spoiler -

Needless to say this is a big spoiler. if you dont want to be spoiled dont read -

the first evidence item is the broken phone on the secret site.

the official transcript for this item and the audio are not the same. there are similarities.

'Official' Transcript:

[A LONG PERIOD OF SILENCE FOLLOWS BEFORE THREE RINGS ARE HEARD. A PAUSE FOLLOWS EVEN AS THE PHONE IS ANSWERED BEFORE THE SOUND OF A HEART BEAT CAN BE HEARD BELOW THE AMBIENT NOISE. THIS AUDIO TRACK CONSTANTLY RAISES AND LOWERS AS IT PROCEEDS.]

HELLO? HELLO? HELLOOOO? … HA HA HA...I’M ONLY KIDDING. I KNOW YOU’RE THERE.

DID YOU LIKE MY JOKE? ...I THINK YOU WERE GOING TO SAY... YES! …HA HA HA… YOU KNOW… IT IS HARD TO HEAR YOU THINK THROUGH THIS FUNNY PHONE OF MINE. IT IS AS THOUGH YOU AREN’T SPEAKING AT ALL. MAYBE IT IS JUST A LITTLE FUZZY… LIKE ME. SPEAKING OF…

[THE HEART BEAT AND AMBIENCE STOP ABRUPTLY.]

...DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?

[THE HEART BEAT AND AMBIENCE RESUME.]

[GASP.] OH NO. WELL THAT’S NOT NEIGHBORLY AT ALL. WE’VE NEVER MET BEFORE. BUT DON’T WORRY. EVEN THOUGH YOU AND I HAVEN’T SPOKEN BEFORE, I’VE SEEN YOU... EVERY TIME YOU HAVE LOOKED INTO MY EYES. I WANT TO KNOW… WHAT DID YOU SEE?

[SILENCE.]

I HOPE YOU SAW A FRIEND, BUT I’M NOT SURE YOU SAW A NAME... STAND STILL. LET’S START OVER. RING RING RING. CLICK. HI, I’M WALLY. I’M SO HAPPY TO FINALLY MEET YOU, I THINK YOU’RE THE ABSOLUTE MOST.

[SILENCE.]

UH OH, I HAVE TO GO NOW. EVERYONE IS PROBABLY THINKING ABOUT THAT STRANGE PHONE CALL. IT IS FUNNY TO THINK ABOUT. …HA HA HA… DON’T WORRY THOUGH, NEIGHBOR, IT WILL BE A LITTLE JOKE BETWEEN YOU AND ME. YOU HAVE TO GO TOO. YOU HAVE WORK TO DO. REMEMBER, UNTIL YOU HEAR ME AGAIN, KEEP YOUR SMILE MERRY AND ALWAYS KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH.

GOOD BYE.

My transcript of the audio - 'True' Transcript: Wally’s toyland plays then he picks up the phone: Wally: (sound of him picking up receiver) Was that better? I have been practicing. I am trying to get better at singing? Did you ike it? (break) W: I wish i knew but you still won't tell me anything - (pause for breath)

W: Its so Quiet. W: Its so Quiet

W: Its so Quiet during Homewarming.

W: (break) Every is usually so busy, so its just me and home for a long while. But i still like housewarming. Everyoing likes homewarming.

( long pause) W: I dont want to end this call, but i have to go get ready for housewarming , but barnaby will be here soon - i have to go, Remember! Until you hear me again, Keep your smile merry, and always know that i love you very much. Goodbye.

---

now the entry for this item does say /the calls are always different/ so i wonder if that is what this difference is meant to show. anyways - i know my transcript isnt the best but i hope this helps!

Cinnabunn ( Reddit) Kay ~

#welcome home #welcome home arg #observation #secret site

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bcdrawsandwrites · 1 month

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[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fic banner featuring a silhouette of Pyro using the stock flamethrower and setting things on fire. Pyro is light gray with darker outlines, with its class symbol and canister markings in orange, and its lenses yellow-white. They are on a dark gray background with faint gray text behind them reading numbers from 999,996 to 999,999. The title is in the top right in yellow-white text on a darker background reading, "CHAPTER ONE: PYROMANCY." /end ID]

Flickering

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Spy, Pyro, Engineer, Medic, Sniper Warnings: General references to trauma, TF2-typical violence Fic Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it’s never that easy.

Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.

And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason. Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve Notes: I have no idea what was supposed to happen in the final comic, so for the sake of my sanity I'm going to have the mercs go back to business as usual, somehow.

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Chapter 1: Pyromancy Summary: In which Spy takes on a new mission.

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After everything was said and done, the scars they endured were more than physical.

Sniper had been the first to admit it, quietly mentioning during the chaos between rounds the fact that he sometimes still felt the pain of bullets long-gone, and not the ones they endured from their usual matches.

(The matches had resumed, even after the death of all three Mann brothers. It was a touch of normalcy that they all needed.)

Heavy made frequent trips to Medic's office, not for any treatment, but just in case there was still some Australium left in that brute's veins and he came after them again.

Spy, meanwhile, had escaped unscathed and had absolutely nothing to hide from anyone.

But as for the others, this was, of course, all very normal. They'd all been through a lot of strange events—or stranger than usual—and a bit of lingering trauma was to be expected. Nothing to be concerned over.

Except for one thing.

Spy had noticed it during a match. An enemy merc had been preparing to sneak up on Pyro, who was removing a sapper from a sentry. But the second they got too close, Pyro swung around with its homewrecker, striking the merc again and again until they despawned. On the surface it had seemed little different from how Pyro usually handled things. Even so, something about the incident felt... off to Spy.

So he decided to keep an eye on things. During matches, whenever he could, he would take a moment to observe Pyro. He observed it charging into battle, firing its flare gun with impressive precision. Efficient, and yet...

Another moment he caught was when it had a brush with an enemy spy. The spy had just attempted to backstab Pyro when it swung around, striking with its ax and slashing, again and again. When the bloody remains disappeared, Pyro stared blankly at the red stain they’d left behind for a few uncomfortable moments before moving on.

At this point, Spy wasn't even sure what he was looking for, or why he cared, beyond the fact that it was his part of his job to study people's behavior should he need to imitate it later. No one else had taken notice of any of this—or if they had, they said nothing of it. If he just dropped the matter, likely no one would care, and they could continue to move past the mess from the past six months.

...But a little poking around wouldn't hurt. It wasn't like the Administrator was sending him off on any high-profile missions right now.

Engineer's workshop was meticulously organized, and a place Spy did not typically set foot in, for good reason. Instinctively he cloaked the second he heard the beep. The sentry's gun was trained on him anyway, but, recognizing a friendly merc, did not shoot.

"I'd say it's funny seein' you here, if I could see you," Engineer said, following his sentry's eyeless gaze.

With a snort, Spy de-cloaked.

Engineer's gaze darkened as he rested the Gunslinger over the top of the machine. "You ain't here to practice with those sappers of yours, are ya?"

"What? No. I have no need for that."

"Huh." Withdrawing his prosthesis, he relaxed slightly. "What can I do ya for?"

"I seek... information." Spy strode closer, idly lighting a cigarette. "You often work with Pyro, no?"

Engineer shrugged. "Well, sure. Don't need to explain to you how we collaborate on the battlefield. Sometimes collaborate here in the workshop, too. That fella's got a knack for makin' new flamethrowers, and it'll sometimes ask for my input." He tilted his head. "Why? You lookin' to partner with it for something?"

"Ugh, no." Spy shuddered. "No. I was wondering if you had... noticed its behavior on the battlefield as of late."

At that, Engineer leaned forward, rubbing a finger against his chin. "Lately? Mumbles's been doing pretty well on the battlefield. Better than I can remember, even." Shrugging, he sat back. "Guess it's been missin' the usual matches, pointless as they are, same as the rest of us."

Exhaling a stream of smoke through his nose, Spy looked the Engineer in the goggles. "And outside of battle?"

"Dunno. Haven't seen it much."

"Do you find this... concerning?"

"Nope." Engineer looked away. "I know I was pretty much out of the fray for all of that, but it sounds like all y'all had it pretty rough. Don't blame anyone for wantin' to take a bit of time to themselves. I'm sure it'll come around."

"Perhaps." Sighing, Spy turned, heading back toward the door. "I'll leave you to... whatever sort of contraptions you have here."

"What are you worried about?"

Spy stopped in the doorway. "What?"

"You ain't the type to come in to ask about someone for no reason."

Spy glared over his shoulder. "I worry about nothing."

"All right," Engineer replied, and resumed tinkering with the sentry. When the fellow merc said nothing more, Spy went on his way.

No, he was not worried. But as his mind wandered back to their short time imprisoned in Gray Mann's base, he was wondering. And there was someone else who might be able to satisfy his curiosity.

Medic's lab, in contrast to Engineer's space, was cluttered and chaotic, not helped by the doves nesting and perching wherever they could find space, nor the young baboon scampering around the floor. The sight of Heavy sitting on a chair made Spy pause, wondering if he was interrupting something, only to realize that the Heavy was only reading a book. He did not look up when Spy entered. The baboon, meanwhile, scampered up to Medic (who was studying something at his desk) and tugged on the hem of his coat.

"Ah, Aristotle. Did you find it?" Medic asked, bending down to accept a small red vial from the baboon's paw. "Let's see..." Adjusting his glasses, he peered at the vial's label, only to frown and toss the vial aside, where it shattered on the floor. "Aristotle! I told you I needed an O-positive blood sample, not another B-positive!"

The monkey, evidently named Aristotle, gave a sad chirp.

"Now, now, try again," he said, and shoo'd the monkey off. "Unless you want this experiment to fail, anyway." He watched the monkey scurry back across the room and run past Spy, and did a double-take. "Ah, Spy! I didn't hear you come in."

"I should hope not, or else I'd be doing my job poorly." He sidestepped the broken glass as he approached.

"Are you recovering well from your emergency blood transfusion?" Medic asked, flipping through some papers at his desk.

"Actually, I had a question about that."

The Medic's face lit up. "Ah! You're in luck!" Setting the papers down, he gestured excitedly toward a series of vials lined up in front of him. "I'm currently working on a method of separating different blood types that may have gotten—hmm—mixed together, by some means, and I needed a human test subject to—"

"No."

Medic's expression immediately soured. "Oh." He turned away, flipping through the papers again. "Well what do you want? I'm very busy."

"You also performed an emergency transfusion on the Pyro, did you not?"

"Oh, yes!" Medic smiled as he held up a paper; Spy was able to spot the Pyro's class symbol on it. "Yes, it's always fascinating working with that one."

Spy didn't have to ask what was fascinating about the only non-human mercenary on their team. "Did you notice anything... unusual when you performed the operation?"

At that, Medic scratched his head. "Well now... I was quite busy at the time, trying to prevent everyone, including you, from dying from blood loss, you know. I didn't have time to focus on the details."

"But you did open Pyro's suit to slice it open and fill its chest cavity with blood."

"Yes, yes. Your point?"

"And you didn't see anything strange when you did this?"

Medic clicked his tongue. "I told you, I had no time to focus on the details!" Sighing, he turned back to his desk. "Besides, it's hard to notice anything past all that soot."

Spy paused. "Soot?"

"Yes, it gets everywhere," Medic replied, as though that had answered the question. "Anyway, why do you ask?"

Tempted as he was to ask about what on earth lied beneath that suit, he held himself back, and very nearly shot back a "classified" at the doctor. However, something else struck him, and he hummed. "You worked with those other mercenaries for a time. Were you familiar with their pyro?"

"Oh, Beatrice?" Medic chuckled. "Yes, she was an interesting one. Quite sadistic, I would say. But what does this have to do with—?"

"She interrogated our Pyro for an extended period of time, and I am wondering if this may account for its strange behavior."

"Strange behavior?" Medic echoed, then laughed, the noise grating on Spy's ears. "No, our pyromaniac is just as crazy as it ever was, in case you haven't noticed! Perhaps you could do with a head examination." In one swift motion he retrieved a clipboard. "I could put you in for next Tuesday—"

"No, thank you." And with that, Spy strode out of the lab, nearly stepping on Aristotle's tail on the way out.

As he crossed the base, he tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it as he passed.

This was ridiculous. Was it not obvious to anyone else? Or was he really just looking for something that wasn't there?

He found himself glaring out a window, staring out at the desert. It was growing dark, now, and he had no reason to be hanging around here—several of the other mercs had already gone home, or to whatever hole they slept in.

The hair stood on the back of Spy's neck, and he whipped around to see someone staring at him from the other end of the hall. He shuddered. "Don't do that."

"Am I not allowed to look at people without a scope up to my eye?" Sniper asked, approaching Spy. He held a cup of coffee in his hand that fogged up his glasses as he brought it to his mouth. Nonetheless, he joined Spy in looking out the window. "You're here late."

"As are you." Spy glared out into the darkening twilight. "Don't you have a van to sleep in?"

"Don't much feel like sleeping," Sniper answered, taking another swig of coffee.

"Then go somewhere else to produce your jarate."

The Sniper only heaved a sigh. "Went to the phone again."

"Yes, very exciting." Spy continued to glare out the window before it struck him what the man was talking about. His annoyance quickly melted. "...Oh." He hesitated for a moment before glancing at Sniper. "My apologies."

"Been a minute since I've done that," he said, and shook his head.

The two stood in awkward silence for a moment.

"...Since you're here," Spy said, "perhaps you could help me with something."

With a lifeless shrug, Sniper did not look away from the window. "Shoot."

"Tempting as it would be to kill you right now, I must decline," Spy said, eliciting a chuckle from the other merc. "Have you paid any attention to Pyro on the battlefield?"

"Some. It watches my back sometimes. Why?"

"Have you noticed anything... strange about it?"

"Hmmm." Sniper turned to face him, and Spy nearly got his hopes up. "Why, have you?"

Spy grit his teeth. "At this point, I'm starting to wonder. Its behavior seems unusual to me for some reason, but no one else in this stupid base seems to think so."

"Everyone's been actin' different, mate. Including you."

Something snapped, and Spy pounded a fist against the windowsill. "Can you answer the question or not?"

Sniper was silent for a moment before he tipped his head back, draining the rest of his coffee. "If somethin's up with Pyro, it hasn't said anything to me about it."

"You—!" Spy sputtered, but Sniper was already leaving. He glared after him, fuming, before spinning around and storming toward the base's entrance.

But as he neared the door, he froze.

It hasn't said anything to me about it.

That was it.

The next day, during their match, Spy kept a closer eye on Pyro than before.

The merc was charging through the map, blasting its flamethrower at anyone and everyone who came near it. If a fellow merc was ever on fire, it quickly put them out before going straight back to setting everything else on fire.

Months ago, when committing such atrocities, it would typically be giggling and laughing and whooping in glee as it stormed through the burning destruction.

Now, it was dead silent, its movements sharp and hurried as it set every enemy in sight ablaze.

Spy, who was cloaked, nearly gave himself away, laughing as his suspicions were confirmed. Yes, something was for sure wrong with Pyro, and he was not going crazy. Satisfied, he resumed his role in the match as normal, decloaking and backstabbing a soldier that the Pyro had missed.

But as the match came to an end and the team returned to their base, it dawned on him: Yes, he'd confirmed that something was wrong with Pyro.

But he still didn't know why.

#tf2 spy #tf2 pyro #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #team fortress 2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 #my art #my writing #fanfic #flickering fanfic #don't forget to read the prologue!

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qqueenofhades · 10 months

Note

coming from one of those "born in mid 2000s and is now suddenly an adult, making everyone feel old," people, do you have any resources to learn how to bullshit your way through getting a job with zero experience. cause i cant even put like "babysitting" or anything since covid prevented literally any teenage-typical jobs and i kinda dont know what to put on a resume beyond the university im currently attending and the high school i graduated from. and they still dont teach you this in school even though we've complained for years 😭

Okay my chilluns, listen up. This is how to bullshit your way into a basic 1-page resume even if you think you have absolutely dum-dum-diddlysquat to put on it. I completely feel you, as it's hard as hell to get a job even in the ordinary course of things, and especially when everything seems to want 10 years of experience and a bachelor's degree (and still pays like shit). But you gotta be persistent anyway. So here follows the step-by-step guide of How To Resume:

Open a new Word (or other word-processing software of your choice) document.

Pick a nice, professional-looking font (for the love of God, no Comic Sans). Times New Roman is fine; you don't have to overthink it. My own CV is currently in Perpetua, because it's a nice serif that looks crisp and a little different, but it is still clean and readable. Garamond or Cambria or other starter typefaces are fine too. Make sure it is the right size, usually around 12pt.

Put your full name at the top, centered, in BOLD CAPITALS. Increase the typeface size a few more points on this, to make it stand out and to make it take up space.

Underneath this, in regular-sized text, put your contact information: mailing address if you're comfortable sharing it, or if not, at least your phone number and email address. Use a school email if you have it, and not some weird/in-jokey personal email.

Start a new paragraph. In a slightly smaller font (italic if you want to make it look classy) write a few words about yourself. This should be something like I am a [Major] student at [University] looking for a part-time, entry-level position in [sales, retail, office, etc]. A [year] graduate of [High School] in [City, State], I am [prompt, reliable, detail-oriented, mature, friendly, etc] and a hard worker who is eager to gain experience and positively contribute to your business.

Start a new paragraph. Change the alignment from Center to Left. Create a new heading in bold underline labeled Education.

Under this, fill in your education (college first, followed by high school). Include the institution name, city, and state, the year you graduated or expect to graduate, any honors or awards, any extracurriculars, any grade-point averages if they're good (i.e. 3.0 and above), and your expected major in college.

Start a new paragraph. Create another heading: Experience.

This is where you put absolutely anything you can think of (in chronological order, most recent first and counting backward). Did you volunteer for something ever in your life? Put it down! (Title of work, dates, location, brief description of work). Did you do yard work for someone for a weekend? Put it down! Were you (or are you) part of a student club or organization in high school or university? Have you organized or taken part in any local initiatives in your community or neighborhood? Put it down! Basically, absolutely any kind of work, paid or unpaid, that might be relevant, regardless of how long it was or when it took place.

Under that, put the new heading/paragraph Skills and Interests.

Have you worked with Microsoft Word, Outlook, PowerPoint, Adobe, Photoshop? Put it down! People love that shit! Do you use social media and/or know how to work it better than the average grandma? Put 'er down! You get the idea. Think of anything in your daily life that can be put in Job Language and then see if you can do that. You are in university; do you have any projects, papers, or other things that you're proud of? Have you successfully managed a (gasp) group project? Do you make any kind of art? Are you a registered voter who has taken part in civic/political organizations, drives, or events? (If not, REGISTER TO VOTE! This is your angry grandmother speaking). All of that can go down. Even if it's not job experience per se, it's life experience and shows that you are someone who is engaged with the world and working to gain more.

Last paragraph and heading: References. Ask a few trusted adults who know you well and aren't related to you, such as a favorite high school teacher or a university faculty member/degree advisor, if they'd be willing to serve as referees. Put down their full names, titles/place of work, email addresses, and phone numbers.

Voila! You have a full page resume, probably even a little more if you're lucky. Proofread, make sure the spacing is even and the alignment is right, it doesn't look weird, the text is a consistent size, it's all the same color, there are no glaring typos or grammatical errors, etc. etc. Save it as a PDF.

Boom. Done. You are now a Job Hunting Maestro.

If you get an interview, you don't need to pretend that you have tons of experience or that you're something you're not, but you can present what you ARE in a positive light anyway. Don't apologize for yourself or play yourself down pre-emptively; be confident about yourself and what you can offer. You're a college kid looking for your first part-time job, COVID prevented you from a lot of normal teenage work experience, you're willing to work hard and learn new things. Here's your resume. What would be a good time to talk again.

Good luck! I believe in you.

#anonymous #ask #how to adult #how to make a resume

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fatuismooches · 6 months

Note

Hi!!! This is my first time saying anything here, so yayyy! But I say that one ask from another anon talking about how Dottore had never recorded fragile!reader's voice before and then forgot what it sounds like, and my brain made some jumps and--

I like to think that sometimes, whether when Dottore is just working in the room while reader sleeps (I like to think that he's modified himself enough that he doesn't need as much sleep as regular humans) or if he's also in the bed with you, that sometimes, reader's sleeping form reminds him a little too much of when reader was in a coma. Or perhaps, even worse, and that reader's time had come while he was sleeping/working. Immediately, he has to reassure himself that you're not, in fact, dead, by either going to check their pulse and keeping his hand there longer than it needs to be (what if they die the second he takes it off??) or, if he was closer to them or sleeping with them (in the literal sense), by even just listening to it. And he tries to rationalize it with himself (bc he's so i denial, I already know it) by being like "noooo, i'm not worried!! I'm a great doctor, and I have nothing to worry about!! I'm just... checking for abnormalities!!" as if he isn't just doing it to make sure they're still alive.

Idk, the thought just popped into my head. He's lost them before without a chance of saying goodbye, and he never wants it to happen again, especially if this time they'll be gone for good.

I'd like to think that reader wasn't really aware of it until one night when he was making a little more noise than usual, and they woke up groggily to find him with their ear on their chest, desperately holding onto you as if you were going to die any second. And then the second he realized you were awake, moved off was like "Hello, I'm not doing anything sus whattt"

So now reader knows he does it, but allows it because they think it's kind of cute, but also because they know that he would never admit his fears.

Anyway, I'm kinda tired, so I don't know if this actually makes any sense. But slay!!

Thank you for feeding us Dottore content, and I hope you have a good day or night!!

You've known Zandik for a long time. So you are very aware that he has weaknesses. Yes, even though the scholar tried to hide it, his walls would slowly chip away during those late nights spent in the dorm or on expeditions. But Dottore? After you woke up, you wondered if Dottore had any weaknesses. Dottore seemed to be a man of no fear, but perhaps you should have expected that because what would someone as God-like as him have to fear now? He has much power in his grasp, surely there is nothing that could bother him. He's no longer the same Zandik you once knew, and that's okay really, but you just wonder to yourself sometimes. Little did you know Dottore's one and only fear was about you.

Il Dottore considers himself a rational man in every possible subject area. Yes, he does not allow himself to be swayed by anything as irrational as emotion and instead focuses on logic. Whether his final decision is cruel or unethical is not something he cares about. But you... you are the exception. You are the variable he cannot control. And so irrationality is one of the things he despises, swore to himself he'd never be a victim of, but here he was anyway. Succumbing to an irrational mindset is the last thing he thought he'd do.

Often times when Dottore sleeps with you, he doesn't actually sleep. He gets into the bed to appease you, because it brings you comfort, (your words) lays there for a bit until you fall asleep, and resumes his work. He is just far, far too busy to stay. But, nowadays, he finds it even harder than usual to say. Why? Because of his irrational mind, once again. He needs to know that you are alive. Which is a dumb fear really, you're not going to die, you're not going to leave, your body is stable (for now) so there's no need to worry. But he needs to know. He needs confirmation. You know. He really hates that you've done this to him. He hates it. But he can't blame you, only himself, because if he cured you already he would never have to deal with irrationality again.

Dottore is used to the quietness of a human heart, from his experiments of course, clicking his tongue in annoyance from how easily they died and feeling no emotion. But your heart, if your heart stopped... well, his madness would not be transcribed to paper very well, because it would be too hard to describe. But he denies that. And he especially denies it to you. He denies it, so that's why he finds himself counting your heart's beats per minute anyway. But now you know that even the great Il Dottore has a fear and weakness. After all, when it's only the two of you, he is only Zandik, the same man who fell hard for you all those centuries ago. But that's okay. You promised to always be there, even if he doesn't want you to be.

#smooches talks #fragile reader <3 #dottore love notes <3 #another day another fragile reader angst 😚😚 it's a lifestyle at this point <33 #thank YOU for feeding us anon i love this. it totally made sense and was SO GOOD!!#ugh i adore this :(( i love giving villains irrational fears

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nikethestatue · 7 months

Text

A Match Baked In Heaven

Summary

Part 1

Lonely Boy

London, England

Present Day

“Promise me that you will be normal.”

“I am always normal.”

“That is demonstratively untrue. You are never normal,”

“Well then what do you want from me? If I am not normal to begin with, how can I be normal in this instance?”

“Fake it. Pretend.”

“Why don’t you just drive? In silence.”

Cassian sighed a dramatic sight, and continued on driving, preferring not to push the issue any further. Lord knew it took him months, actual months to convince his stubborn ass of a brother to actually agree to try this. In all honesty, Cassian was feeling exhausted. Drained. Defeated. And he never felt defeated. But this whole…thing…was akin to that Greek myth, with the guy who kept pushing a huge rock up a mountain, only to reach the top, and for the rock to skid back down and for the climb to resume again. And again. And again. That’s how he felt with his wayward, unruly, scandalous brother Azriel.

Azriel was looking out the car window, a scowl on his face.

Cassian wasn’t going to engage. The last thing he needed for his brother to say ‘turn the car around, I am not going’. He wasn’t going to risk it.

“Where are we even?” Azriel muttered at last, his brow furrowing as he looked at the unfamiliar streets. “Is this bird posh?”

Cassian arched a brow at him and blew out a breath. You can take the boys out of a council estate, but you can’t take the council estate out of the boys. He and Azriel grew up in abject poverty, with their alcoholic father, his cunt of a wife, and their two abhorrent step-brothers. Decades later, sometimes it slipped–Azriel’s plain talk.

“Who cares if she is posh?” Cassian shrugged instead of answering. “You are Azriel Night. She should be impressed,”

Azriel rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Posh birds don’t care about all that.”

Here he was: the shy, awkward boy that Cassian remembered. Azriel, with his scarred hands, his awful self-esteem, his sense of unworthiness and his head full of doubts. Despite the blustering bravado that he usually carried like a shield, when left stripped and bare, Azriel was a boy who made it big, who got lucky in life, but who thought little of himself.

Azriel sighed and then pointed at the window.

“Look! A pub. Let’s stop and have a pint instead.”

Tempting as it was, Cassian shook his head determinedly and said, “No. We have an appointment and we will keep it.”

He glanced at Azriel and added, “And don’t be pouting.”

“I am not pouting!”

“You are definitely pouting.”

A moment later.

“And rolling your eyes.”

“Fuck off.”

“How about,” Cassian chewed the inside of his cheek and then offered, “we’ll get a pint after.”

“After, I’ll need heroin!”

Cassian didn’t bother responding–it was all just bluster anyway. Azriel didn’t even drink because he was training. And considering how badly the training was going, there wasn’t going to be any drinking or any heroin if he wanted to continue playing, and not get benched for the rest of the season.

Azriel was looking out the window with a mixture of disdain and interest.

They were driving down a busy street, hotels and restaurants on both sides. There was the Fitzroy, its facade indulgently opulent and so overwhelmed with Victorian decorations, it looked ridiculous. Next to it, was an absolutely disastrous looking cement building, which used to be a hotel, but now seemed abandoned. A fucking crematorium would look cheerier than this grey cement monstrosity.

“What is this?” Azriel asked again.

“Russell Square,” Cassian explained at last, while making a turn alongside the green square.

It was quaint here. Quiet.

Finally, Azriel recognised the hulking mass of the British Museum. It wasn’t a place where he visited willingly, though he sort of recalled a school trip here. Beyond that, it was a black hole.

He was mostly a shit student, so it didn’t surprise him that he didn’t remember. He wished that he was better–at everything–but his childhood was so precarious, he never allowed himself to hope or wish for better days. So why bother with education or culture if that could always be snatched away from him at any point? So he didn’t. And now, he regretted it. He regretted not spending more time learning about things, about the world, but wasting entirely too much time on doubting and challenging it.

The SatNav told them that they had arrived and Cassian killed the engine.

“Come on,” he motioned at Azriel firmly, “don’t puss out on me now. Let’s go.”

Clenching his teeth so hard he risked cracking a tooth, Azriel climbed out of the Jaguar.

The two of them stood in front of a cute - charming even - Georgian row home, with an attached carriage house. The house was mostly white, with a bit of red brick, and covered in red and purple…well, flowering plant. Azriel wasn’t an expert in plants. He knew ivy and wisteria and that’s as far as it went. So whatever this was, it was beautiful, but he has no idea what it was. Marigold Agency was all it said on an old-fashioned hanging sign that swayed gently over the one-story carriage house. Could be anything. At least it saved Azriel more embarrassment and indignity. He was entering, or ducking, to be precise, into a vaguely named business. It could be a flower shop. A cafe. An ice cream shop.

Not a matchmaking agency. Nothing like that.

The weather was blustery, the skies slate grey, not even a hint of sun or light. Sinking deeper into his leather jacket, he finally entered the foyer, followed by Cassian. A bell chimed upon their entry, announcing them.

They stood in a plush, cosy space, with a fancy marble fireplace, and entirely too many flower arrangements. The walls were covered with tastefully framed, but absolutely cheesy inspirational love quotes. As he looked around, Azriel read gems such as:

Darling, you are all I ever wanted love to be…

True love is a journey without an end

I told the stars about you…And they answered

I crave a love that drowns oceans

When we have each other, we have everything

“In the name of Saint George, what the hell is this?” Azriel muttered under his breath, glancing around.

Cassian meanwhile, made himself comfortable in a plush sofa, dwarfing it with his massive size. The fire in the fireplace was roaring and created a nice respite from London’s awful October weather.

The next moment, a three-legged pug came trotting in, huffing and snorting. He was wearing a spiffy blue bow and stared the two visitors down with his big buggy pug eyes. Azriel squatted low and let the dog sniff him, as he stroked the short fur and the multitude of rolls.

“Piglet!” a melodious voice called out. “How did you get out? Off you go back to the office! Come on!”

The pug snorted in indignation, while Azriel followed the sound of the voice. His eyes skimmed up, finding slender ankles and feet clad in black patent leather pumps–elegant, with one of those ‘kitten heels’. Is that what they were called? And how did he know that?

The owner of the expensive shoes wore a pleated silk skirt of deep cobalt and as he looked up, Azriel noted a tiny waist and a pair of ample tits. The posh bird–and he assumed that’s who this was–had a body to kill for. Definitely a hot little body, though she was dressed like some movie star from the 50s. Totally old fashioned and proper. Those nice soft tits were hidden beneath a black silk blouse, with a huge bow on the side of her neck. Apparently she and her pug liked strutting about wearing large bows. But to add to her old-fashioned attire, she also wore PEARLS. Real, honest to god pearls–a 3-strand pearl necklace, and pearl earrings.

“Your pug’s name is Piglet?” Azriel asked, perplexed, as he straightened to his considerable height.

“It is indeed,” the girl…woman…confirmed.

She was a stunner to be sure. Early-twenties, he assumed, and it wasn’t just her attire that seemed vintage–she was a throwback to a bygone era. A soft lovely face, reminding him of classic cartoon princesses–huge round eyes, brown and gorgeous, a small pretty nose, pink cheeks and a pair of rosy lips, all framed by waves of light golden-brown hair.

“Piglet, come,” she ordered again, and the pug finally ambled away from Azriel, energetically hopping on his three legs.

“Mr. Singer-Night?” she asked, boldly extending her hand.

“Mr. Night is fine,” Azriel corrected, and took her hand in his. Hers was soft, with little firm calluses and a nice grip.

He found himself being intrigued by this oddity. Not exactly attracted, though she was incredibly attractive, but more like fascinated. She was so different from every single other woman he’s ever been around, he didn’t know what to make of her. Granted, he didn’t spend much time in high society, but he spent enough to know that even there, girls such as this one were a rarity.

“Of course,” she nodded once and then looked at Cassian, who got up from the sofa.

“Also Mr. Night,” Cassian smiled, his handsome face splitting into an affable grin. She offered him a little smile too, and for some reason, that made Azriel unhappy. He wasn’t angry exactly, but she barely reacted to him, and here she was, offering sweet smiles to his brother. It wasn’t unexpected–Cassian was fun. Big, burly, handsome, with his black Fabio-long hair and an easy, loose-limbed walk.

“Are you brothers, gentlemen?” she inquired, motioning for them to follow her.

“We are,” Cassian confirmed.

“Yes, I can see the resemblance,” she said breezily, to which Cassian responded, “Of course I am the more handsome, well-adjusted brother!”

She smiled a polite smile, and Azriel blandly stretched his lips in a fake smile, wanting to punch Cassian in the bollocks.

Unbelievable that Cassian was starting to flirt with her within two minutes of being in her presence! Unbelievable or predictable?

Anyway, this was going terrible and he just wanted to get out of here.

“Would you like some tea, gentlemen?” she offered.

“Would love some,” Cassian agreed immediately, and Azriel clenched his fist until his nails dug into his fist painfully. Now they were having tea! They’d never fucking get out of this bizarre place in the middle of fucking Holborn or wherever the fuck they were.

“You seem tense, Mr. Night,” she said quietly, and he was surprised to find her in front of him, her big brown eyes kind and understanding. “Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

Easier said than done, but Azriel followed her advice and plummeted into a comfortable armchair in front of a large, clean desk. Cassian sat in an identical chair next to him. Piglet the pug eased himself between them and sat down on the plush carpet, looking up at his new guests with interest. Cassian immediately attempted to play with the dog, extending his hand and asking to ‘give paw’, which Piglet did.

The girl, whose name Azriel still didn’t know, returned with a tray laden with tea service. Actual tea pot and nice cups and saucers, platters with biscuits and pastries. She poured them tea, handed them the cups and only then did she sit down behind her impressive, polished walnut desk.

“I am Elain Archeron,” she introduced herself at last.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Archeron,” Cassian grinned, and Azriel nodded. The rain behind the window was getting worse, and Azriel felt that he was here for the long run. “This is a very nice office,” Cassian continued to pile on the compliments. “Business must be going well for you, to be able to afford a place like this. You do come very highly recommended and your services are highly regarded.”

She drummed a manicured finger on the desk and explained, “I inherited the building. The house is mine, and I use this carriage house for my office. My great-great-grandmother, also named Elain, was the lover of the Duke of Velaris,”

At that, Cassian gave her a salacious look, and Azriel sipped his tea in bland silence. It was good. Strong. And of course there is some high society sex story that was going to be attached to this girl–it was a given. She seemed like the type. Lovers, dukes, mistresses, inheritances, estates…Fucking ‘Downton Abbey’ is where he now was. A nightmare.

Elain continued, “She was very active in the suffragette movement at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, and was good friends with Emmeline Pankhurst, who lived just down the road, in what is now the Fitzroy.”

Azriel’s brain was working slowly, because he was now warm and sleepy, but he recalled something about all of this from class–the name Emmeline Pankhurst sounded familiar. She was one of the first feminist ladies, if he recalled correctly.

“The Duke of Velaris gifted the house, this house, to my gran, so that the women could hold their meetings here. It’s been passed down the line, to the females of our family. I am the lucky one who inherited it this time around…This carriage house is quite convenient to house my business,”

“So you are a Duchess?” Azriel interrupted.

She smiled and said, “Well, not exactly, but enough about me.”

“I told you she was posh,” Azriel glanced at Cassian, nodding in her direction.

She ignored the comment and asked at last, “So, what brings you to Marigold? And who is in need of my services?”

“My brother here,” Cassian offered easily, “is in need of a wife.”

She exhaled and murmured, “well then”, and clicked her laptop, reading whatever was on the screen. Azriel fumed silently.

“I am assuming you are Azriel?” she asked, without taking her eyes off the screen.

“I am,” he managed.

“It says you are a footballer?”

“I am,” he confirmed reluctantly. Usually, his profession was a flex. He played for Arsenal, been a professional footballer since he was 17, and was currently the team’s captain. But somehow, right now, it didn’t seem as impressive as it usually did. Not when he was sitting in front of a damn Duchess!

Was she really a Duchess? Did Granny Elain only shagged the Duke, or did they have children? Because if Granny Elain looked like this Elain, it was no wonder that the Duke dipped his wick into that honey pot.

“Are these monosyllabic answers how you court the ladies?” Elain asked, a note of tartness on her tongue.

Azriel’s eyes flared and he stared at her. The cheek on her!

“Pardon?”

She shrugged innocently and continued looking at the screen, reading.

“I am just wondering why you would need my services, Mr. Night? You are a successful sportsman, and a footballer no less, and I assume that you are financially stable. Unless you have a gambling problem of some kind?”

“I don’t have a gambling problem!”

“Well, then, since you are an athlete, I am guessing it’s not drugs or drink. So, what is it then? Personality or sexual dysfunction?”

At that, she looked up and stared straight at him.

Azriel’s eyes bugged out. To be fair, so did Cassian’s.

“Excuse me?!” Azriel thundered. “Who the hell are you to imply that I can’t get my dick hard? Are you even married yourself? And where do you get off treating your potential clients like this? Let’s go, Cassian. I am not sitting here, listening to this shite!”

Elain remain unflappable all through his tirade, and watched him attempt to get up from the armchair, splashing hot tea over his shirt in the process. He cursed, the tea cup clanging and wobbling precariously in his hands.

“Are you very well done?” Elain then asked dryly, rising up and leaving the office.

Cassian sighed deeply and unhappily.

“Well, that went well,” he groaned.

“She was taking the piss!” Azriel retorted angrily, though he was feeling kind of foolish now. He couldn’t believe that he lost his temper like that. He wasn’t even a temperamental man, but somehow, this stuck-up little floozy with her pearls and her judgemental tone set his teeth on edge. “I bet she isn’t even married herself! Who’d marry a cow like that? A bloke would have to be suicidal…She’d nag him to death…”

Suddenly, from behind them, Elain voice said calmly,

“Glad to know that it’s not sexual issues, but just your horrible personality.”

Azriel felt his face flush. He’d assumed that she stormed out and left them to see themselves out, but apparently, she heard everything that he said to Cassian. He called her a ‘cow’. Shit.

She handed him a hand towel to blot out the tea from his shirt and then went back to her desk.

Piglet was growling angrily at Azriel, back to stand on his three legs, his crooked sharp little teeth bared and ready to sink into any part of Azriel in defence of Elain.

“Piglet, it’s okay,” Elain said softly, while Cassian attempted to pet him and almost lost a finger in the process, when Piglet snapped at him viciously.

“My apologies, Ms. Archeron,” Cassian muttered. “This didn’t go as planned. We won’t be wasting any more of your time and will be on our way.”

She sighed and waved her hand at him,

“I apologise for my shortness. But, you must understand, I also don't want to waste anyone’s time. Not yours, gentlemen, not my own. If Mr. Night isn’t interested in my services, then I understand and we won’t proceed any further.”

“No,” Cassian interrupted. “He is interested. Believe me. He is,” and he threw a murderous look in Azriel’s direction.

Elain pursed her lips and said, “I find it hard to believe. But if you wish, let’s discuss your situation. I feel like there is more to the story that I am not understanding.”

She was now talking directly to Cassian, pretty much ignoring Azriel altogether, and that made his hackles rise. However, he didn’t feel that it was prudent to continue arguing with her. Let Cassian handle this however he wanted.

Elain refilled Azriel’s cup and handed it back to him. He was surprised at that. The biscuits looked good too, so he picked one up from the tray and bit into it. It was divine. Buttery, crispy, meltingly tender inside. He’d never eaten a biscuit like this before.

“This is incredible,” he couldn't stop himself from complimenting it.

A small smile touched Elain’s lips and she said, “Well, thank you, Mr. Night. I baked them myself.”

“You bake too?” he blurted out stupidly.

“I do. It was my first passion. That and flowers.”

“Of course,” he snorted. “Don’t worry, Miss, I didn’t think it would’ve been cage fighting. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are an escapee from the 50s,”

Sarcastically, she retorted, “no, how could I possibly take that the wrong way? Forgive me, sir, if I am well-mannered, and decorous, and like genuine relationships between people, which aren’t based on Instagram likes and follows.”

“I am a little surprised that you know what Instagram is,” Azriel added. “Seeing as you use words such as ‘decorous’...”

“Aright, okay,” Cassian clapped his huge hands together and rubbed them together. “That’s enough. Let’s move on, shall we?”

Elain sighed dramatically and said, “Fine. Tell me then why Mr. Night is in need of a wife then?”

“Gladly,” Cassian cried with fake excitement. “Azriel and I grew up in a…challenging environment,”

Elain didn’t say anything, but Azriel could see that that did not surprise her.

“Our family situation wasn’t the best,” Cassian continued, “until we were adopted by our distant uncle. You might have heard of him, considering your background–Lord Darling, the construction magnate.”

She nodded, “I am familiar with Lord Darling. He has a son–Rhysand, I believe. You three are related then?”

“We are. Rhys is our cousin. We were adopted when we were teens, Azriel was almost fifteen, I was about thirteen. Az was already showing a lot of promise on the field, his talent raw and genuine,”

Azriel died inwardly from the praise. He was never comfortable with it, even when it was deserved.

“Signed at seventeen to Manchester City,” Elain said casually, like a spy recalling a dossier. “Then, at twenty-three, sold to Arsenal and has been there ever since. Captain for the past three years, if I am not mistaken?”

Cassian just stared at her, as did Azriel, his mouth hanging slightly open.

“He is a forward and his number is 14. Last year, he scored 34 goals, tied only with Haaland. Height–6”5, very tall for a footballer, and weight is 188 lbs.," with that, Elain leaned back, and looked at both of them.

“I wouldn’t have taken you as a football aficionado,” Cassian confessed after a long pause.

“I am not,” Elain said easily. “And I wouldn’t expect you to. I am an escapee from the 1950s, after all.”

Azriel pushed his tongue into his cheek, but didn’t rise to the taunt.

He wasn’t sure why, but it felt weirdly satisfying to hear her rattle off his stats. To say that he was shocked was an understatement, but also, secretly pleased. Fuck yeah he was as good as Haaland! And Haaland was 5 years younger than him. So there was that.

“As our American cousins would say,” Elain threw a biscuit to Piglet, who lunged at it voraciously, “this isn’t my first rodeo, Cassian.”

Oh, so now Cassian was Cassian. But Azriel was still Mr. Night.

That was fine. It’s not like Azriel cared.

“And that means that I do my research. Very thoroughly,” Elain assured them. “Before I take on any client, be it male or female, I need to know what and who they are. Do I scour news outlets? Social media? Gossip sites? Oh, you bet I do. And then there is a full criminal background check as well once someone becomes a client.

“Mr. Night is acceptable,”

“Oh, well! Thank goodness for that,” Azriel exclaimed sarcastically.

“There is no need for that, Mr. Night,” Elain stopped him, “your notoriety is known, but it’s at an acceptable level. No long term relationships, no sexual assaults, but penchant for…” she cleared her throat, but ploughed forth, “orgies and group sex. Attempts at discretion, but not always successful.”

Shit, well this was embarrassing.

Azriel wasn’t sure why he should feel embarrassed at all? He was a single man in the prime of his life, but when it came from the lips of this lovely doll-like creature who was draped in pearls, his sexual history sounded…seedy.

She didn’t pause, but continued, “only one arrest. When Mr. Night was 18–for destruction of property,”

“He spray painted a wall,” Cassian interjected.

Azriel just loved sitting here and being discussed like he wasn’t present.

“Ahh, an artist as well?” Elain commented.

Gah. She really was the most annoying woman he’d ever met. Annoying and condescending and impossible.

“So, a famous, successful footballer from the Premier League who enjoys orgies and hasn’t had a girlfriend…ever, wants to find a wife? That’s quite a leap. Please explain.”

“Lord Darling is a very wealthy man,” Cassian said, “and he’s been kind to treat us well, even though we aren’t his sons. We are in his will, and it’s not been kept secret from anyone. The will stipulates one condition for all of us: Rhys, Az and myself. In order to receive the inheritance, we have to be married by the age of 30. If we are not, the inheritance is null and void and we receive nothing. Azriel is the eldest–he will be turning 30 in March. I have another year and a half to go and Rhys is the youngest at 26.”

“Aren’t you wealthy in your own right?” Elain challenged, looking directly at Azriel.

“I am,” he said.

Muscling in, Cassian piped in, “You don’t understand, Ms. Archeron. The inheritance is very large,”

Seeing her expression, Cassian added,

“It’s 230 million. Each. It’s a lot of money to just let go.”

It finally dawned on her and she nodded with understanding.

“It is a rather large sum,” she agreed with an exhale.

“It is,” Cassian nodded, swallowing two biscuits at once. “These are good!” he mumbled, before saying, “and since it is such a huge amount, and this is a serious, lifelong decision, we all got to be thoughtful about it. Can’t leave this to chance anymore. As you’d mentioned, Az doesn’t have a steady girlfriend, so anyone new has to be vetted. We can’t have some slag from “Love Island’ latching on to him.”

Elain’s eyes popped at the word ‘slag’ being casually thrown into the conversation, but she stopped herself from commenting.

“Also, Az will be moving on sooner rather than later.”

“Not too soon,” Azriel argued, but Cassian ignored him.

“Coaching or broadcasting,” Cassian continued. “Within 3-5 years, Az will retire from playing, but will probably move on to coaching once he passes all his coaching courses and certification. He’ll have a reputation to uphold–he’ll have to be respectable. Married, with children,”

“God Cass, you make it sound like I am being sentenced to life of hard labour,” Azriel moaned.

Elain chuckled.

“Well, at least now it makes sense.”

Elain got up and went to the window behind her desk.

Rain lashed violently against the glass, but it was nice here–at least Azriel liked it. The girl was still kind of a bitch, but she smelled nice, of jasmine, with an undertone of honey, and she baked and she was pretty. And her arse was fine, even hidden behind her pleated skirt. All of her was fine, except for her personality and her sharp tongue.

“Mr. Night,” she said quietly, without turning from the window. Azriel knew that she was addressing him, because Cassian busied himself with fixing Piglet’s bow.

“Please confirm that you are the kind of man who’ll accept a woman with high energy and high ambitions,” Elain asked.

“What?”

“The women that contact me–that’s what they are. They are busy with professional lives, they are usually very well financially off, they are confident and independent. Most either don't have time to look for a partner on their own or want to meet someone who’s been screened and who matches their needs and asks.

“But I must inquire again–is that the type of woman you desire? Someone who would stand up for herself, and someone who might not give up her own career for yours? Someone who might be complicated, if you know what I mean. Educated, serious, elegant, demanding. Not someone who’d roll over for you or inflate her lips or bleach her hair.”

“I don’t really want anyone with bleached hair,”

“Well that’s good isn’t it? Because I’d present you with matches who will challenge and entice you. But you need to tell me that that’s something you are comfortable with and that’s something you want?”

“He wants it,” Cassian shot immediately, playing with Piglet and cooing at him, muttering ‘you are a pretty boy, aren’t you? Yes you are. Yes you are…”

Elain raised her hand and turned to face them.

“I must insist that Mr. Night answer this question, Cassian. This is the rest of his life we are talking about. I understand that you have his best interests at heart, but that’s not enough. Mr. Night must decide for himself.”

Azriel crossed his arms on his chest and chewed his lips, thinking.

He liked her straightforward manner. Her insistence. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost say that she was describing herself in these women that she’d be setting him up with. Only it wasn’t the case–Elain was delicate and classic. She was a matchmaker, for god’s sake, not some boardroom lioness. She had a pug who wore a satin bow. But she was dogged, and confident, and he didn’t mind it. He didn’t mind her self-assuredness at all. Other things…he kind of minded.

“Yeah, okay,” he said at last.

Elain cocked her brow at him, her expression a mixture of disdain and disbelief.

“Well, ‘yeah, okay’ doesn’t exactly fill me with excitement, but I suppose we’ll go with that,” she concluded at last.

Cassian chuckled.

She clicked something on her laptop, and Azriel heard the sound of a printer.

“This is the contract, gentlemen,” she told them, as she gathered a hefty bundle of pages and stuffed them into a folder. “Take a look at it and if you are going to pursue my services, I’d like for you to return it to me, signed, by tomorrow. Say one o’clock?”

Cassian snatched the folder and nodded, “Yes, we will.”

“I apologise for how quickly we are moving here, but we are under a tight timeline, it seems,” she reminded them.

Suddenly losing his usual indifferent bravado, Azriel asked, his voice quiet,

“And what happens after? If we sign it,”

“You sign it,” Elain ordered brusquely.

“Fine. I sign it. What happens after that?”

“We sit down, discuss your mating criteria, and take it from there,”

“I am sorry, what? What is a ‘mating criteria’?”

“Basically, your requirements for your future mate. Blonde or brunette? Tall or short? Level of education? Hobbies? Interests? All of it.”

“Mating criteria is the least sexy term I’ve ever heard,” Azriel complained.

“Well, I am sorry, Mr. Night–I'll leave the ‘sexy’ part to you. My job is to find you the woman for all your sexy needs and then some.”

Azriel got up, followed by Cassian.

“I mean, you can just marry me,” Azriel suddenly blurted.

Both Elain and Cassian paused and stared at him with evident shock on their faces.

“I am sorry?”

Backtracking frantically, he tried to make light of it, internally berating himself and wondering what the hell possessed him to say something so stupid. He’d rather rip his nuts off than be married to her!

“I mean, it would save both of us some time. And in a year, we could be divorced. No harm, no foul. And I won’t even request any conjugal satisfactions from you,”

“Okay, okay,” Cassian muttered, grabbing Azriel’s upper arm and squeezing it until he stopped the blood flow. “I think we’ve said enough. We’ll see you later, Ms. Archeron,”

She, meanwhile, was fuming, her hands on her hips, as she snarled,

“You wouldn’t request conjugal satisfactions? You? Who said I’d ever even let you near me!?”

“I am sure he was just joking,” Cassian murmured through clenched teeth. “Nerves, you know. Nerves. Forgive him, Miss Elain. No conjugal anything between the two of you, of course. Hahaha. That’s funny. Let’s go. Let’s. Go.”

He half dragged Azriel alongside him.

“Consider it!” Azriel called out.

“No. Fucking. Thank. You.” She yelled after them.

“Shit, you said ‘fucking’!” Azriel grinned. “Miss Perfect is not so perfect after all.”

** credit to @deathsweetblossoms for suggesting the title for the story!

#A Match Baked In Heaven #elriel #Elriel Fanfic #Elriel Fanfiction #elain archeron #azriel and elain #azriel #elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #cassian #acotar fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #Modern Au #my fic

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juyeonszn · 5 months

Text

PARTY O’CLOCK

PAIRING choi chanhee x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.39k

GENRES fluff ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, tau beta zeta frat treasurer!chanhee, reader is a stereotypical party girl, she’s also an astronomy major, mentions of alcohol, i’m pretty sure everyone makes a cameo at some point, kevin moon playing matchmaker, we escalate a little fast so, intense making out, marking, vaginal fingering, brat tamer!chanhee, dom!chanhee, lowkey pussy job for like 1 second, nipple play? kinda?, unprotected sex, wall sex, missionary, multiple orgasms, creampie (yk… the usual), overstimulation

SUMMARY in spite of being a frat boy himself, chanhee could never actually see himself enjoying the luxuries of the title. besides, how could he with all the responsibilities of being treasurer? enter you and your carefree spirit and chanhee’s got a real big problem on his hands.

MORE … don’t yell at me PLEASE. i know this is 2 days overdue. I KNOW I KNOW. i’ve been so busy these past couple days and my time management is ass we already know this. BUT IM HERE AND SHES FINISHED AND ITS CHRISTMAS EVE SO??? 🙏🙏😍 anyways. i hope u guys enjoy i had a fun time writing this. i’m a firm believer in dom chanhee 😋 if u liked this pls don’t forget to reblog!

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr

TAGLIST @millksea

“Who’s that?”

The question comes out before you can even stop it, eyes focused on a guy sitting on one of the couches in the living room, complete disinterest all over his face. He’s pretty. Prettier than any guy you’ve ever seen. But he also looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than at this party.

“Who?” Your friend Heejin asks, following your gaze.

She finds out pretty quickly, especially because of how intense your stare is. She racks her brain for his name, sure it’s somewhere in her catalog of the student body. Heejin was the kind of person who knew everyone even if she didn’t exactly know them personally. She was both sociable and obsessed with gossip, sticking her nose in the business of those around her.

“Ah! That’s Choi Chanhee,” she nods, index finger tapping her chin. “He’s the Tau Beta Zeta treasurer actually. That’s probably why he looks like he wants to kill himself. Dude doesn’t really want to be here, but fraternity brothers are required to attend every party.”

She’s right, it appears, when you see some of the members you do recognize make their way over to bother him. He definitely does not look like the fraternity type, but you guess it also makes sense in a way. Maybe he needed an extracurricular or something that would be nice on his resume.

It’s hard for you to enjoy yourself for the rest of the night, too concentrated on the treasurer who’s lips stay pressed into a frown the entire time. You try to take shots with Heejin, but your eyes gravitate back to the sofa. Ji Changmin and his girlfriend even convinced the two of you to play them in beer pong. (Worst mistake you’ve ever made. You sucked at beer pong.) You finally draw the line at a game of Rage Cage, when you strategically get placed between Lee Juyeon and Heejin, arguably the best drinkers at the function.

Everyone laughs at you when you take a step back and recall your decision to join. And just as you suspected, you end up back in the living room, right where you wanted. Chanhee hasn’t moved from his spot, occasionally taking sips of whatever he’s drinking and scrolling through his phone.

You remember when that was Jacob Bae’s thing to do, and then he went and got himself a girlfriend. Perhaps that’s what Chanhee needed to do. A girlfriend was a little bit of a stretch, but someone to help him loosen up at these things was plausible. Girls weren’t even trying to hit on him left and right like they usually did with the Tau Beta Zeta boys, which was even more surprising considering most of them had their own partners now. Desperation was an ugly look on the university female, you know.

Which is exactly why you don’t make any moves that night.

Initially, you think you’ll wait a week. You happen to see him on campus a few times. The first time is in the library studying with some headphones on, in his element. The second time is in the cafe on campus, again, doing coursework with the intention of being left alone. Then it’s when you’re leaving your Fundamentals of Astronomy lecture, walking to one of his own classes. In your head, you’re being tested, like a dog with a bone being dangled in front of its face. It’s tortuous, wanting to go up to him and introduce yourself, but you don’t do it.

Heejin “drags” you to another TBZ party the following Friday and you put extra effort into your outfit. You walk in with the hopes to sweep him off of his feet, strutting into the fraternity house with a confidence that throws you off. Just when you’re getting ready to walk up to him, Kim Sunwoo intercepts and you backtrack. That ruins any of the lingering self-assurance in your system. So you push things back another week.

The next time you plan on striking, you and Heejin had said you’d meet at the party since she had something to do prior. You arrive at around 11 PM, prepared to shoot your shot and score. The kitchen is the first place you go, concocting yourself a drink that doesn’t get you trashed, but provides enough liquid courage. Then Heejin texts that her project partners wanted to grab food and she wasn’t going to make it. The thought of being alone without moral support effectively kills your mood, so you only stay for another hour or so before leaving.

It’s annoying, really. Every single time you attempt to set your plan into motion, something has to interrupt and mess things up for you.

This is your dilemma for roughly every weekend for a whole month. By the time you know it, it’s midterm season and you’re too stressed out over exams to think about Choi Chanhee. Divine intervention was a crazy concept, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Maybe this was your sign to just call it quits and give up on your weird fantasy of being the girl who charmed him.

“Do you wanna go to the TBZ party Saturday? We can celebrate finishing these stupid fucking exams and just relax for another couple months before we have to worry about finals.” Heejin asks through a mouthful of instant ramyeon. You sigh.

“Sure, whatever.” Your lips purse, pushing around your own food. She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side in confusion.

“What the hell happened to you? You were jumping for joy when it came to going to them all semester, but now that I want to get shitfaced, you don’t seem all that excited.” She puts her chopsticks down, narrowing her eyes at you from across the table. You shrug.

“I don’t know,” you rest your cheek on your palm, huffing. “I guess I’m not really in the party mood anymore.”

“Bullshit,” she scoffs. “You’re the girl everyone thinks of when they talk about the typical university party girl. There must be a reason you’re suddenly Miss Debbie Downer.”

You could just tell her the truth, tell her about your delusions and the need to be different. As your roommate and best friend, she wasn’t at liberty to judge you. But this was so unlike you, so you knew she would anyway. It was out of character for you to be this enthralled by a man, let alone a stranger you’ve never spoken a word to. In fact it’s even thrown you for a loop, this mental break giving you clarity about your recent actions.

“That time I asked you who Choi Chanhee was,” you start after some silence. “I thought about going up to him and finding out why he’s so uptight. I sorta wanted to be in a ‘not like other girls’ situation. But whenever I wanted to swoop in, something always interfered. And now I’m just over it.”

“Y/N. You cannot be serious,” Heejin gawks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Chanhee’s very picky about the girls he talks to. I could probably name on a hand the ones who’ve successfully snuck their way into his pants. He has specific taste, too; pretty ones who know when to shut their mouths.”

Your jaw drops, because what the fuck? He’s not a raging virgin with that personality? No wonder there wasn’t a line of single ladies attempting to land in his bed. They all knew they didn’t stand a chance. It kind of encourages you to resume your mission. You were never one to back down from a challenge.

“In that case…” A mischievous glint sparkles in your eye.

“Good god,” she rolls her own. “I’m warning you now, I highly doubt this will end in your favor.”

“You know me, Heejin. I never take no for an answer.”

It’s the day before the party and you’re walking out of your last midterm exam, a new light in your eyes now that you’re somewhat free. You step into the quad with your arms stretched above your head, a yawn pushing through your lips. You were long overdue for a good nap.

“Y/N!”

You whip around to find Kevin Moon from your Music Appreciation class stalking towards you. Part of you wants to pretend you’d never heard him and keep walking, drained of energy after that Intro to Astrophysics exam you’d just taken. Your brain felt like mush at this point. But you were kind, and you would’ve just felt bad about ignoring him anyways.

Kevin catches up to you rather quickly, hands hidden inside of his hoodie pockets. He lets out a sigh, both of you watching the puff of air that forms in front of him. “You’re going to the party tomorrow right?”

“I am…” You furrow your eyebrows, narrowing your eyes skeptically just a bit. “Why?”

“I have a huge favor to ask you.” He clasps his hands together, as if he wasn’t above begging on his hands and knees. You’re confused even further, because what could Kevin Moon possibly want from you?

“Okay… What is it?” The suspicion in your tone is so strong, that there’s no doubt he hasn’t noticed it by now. He holds the heel of his palm to his forehead.

“So, I was supposed to go with my friend Chanhee to try out that new outer space themed coffee place just outside of campus later today, but I got put on alcohol duty and I won’t be able to. I know you’re an Astronomy major so I figured that was something you’d like. Do you think you could go in my place?” He bats his eyelashes at you, like doing puppy dog eyes will convince you. You stare at him blankly. He wants you to do what?!

Meeting Choi Chanhee before the party tomorrow was not in your itinerary. Usually you were decent at adapting to changes in your plans, but this? This was more than just something minor that you could acclimate to. You had to psych yourself for hours in order to execute something of this caliber. Was Kevin Moon trying to send you into cardiac arrest?

“W-Wh— I mean— well—” You fumble over your words— something you never do— and Kevin breaks into a wide grin. You’re not sure if the blush across your face is from the cold weather nipping at it, or the thought of being put between a rock and a hard place.

“Perfect! I owe you one! Meet him in like an hour.” He pats your back like you’re one of the homies, not giving you any room for refutation. You actually feel like throwing up. How were you supposed to just show up without qualms?

Did he really expect you to just do this out of the goodness of your heart? No complaints stacked up to be hurled in his direction? You’d known Kevin Moon since freshman year orientation, but you didn’t think you were close enough for him to throw his dirty work at you. You can’t help but stand there dumbly as he walks away, a pep in his step that nearly has tick marks forming on your temple.

Okay, you know what? This is fine. This was totally fine. All you had to do was sip on some coffee, make some small talk, and then you could be on your way. It wasn’t that hard… was it?

You could throw on an act, pretend like you were one of those pretty girls who knew when to shut their mouths just like Heejin said he was into. You could give him a false glimpse into who you were and he wouldn’t know what you were really thinking of doing. The you of tomorrow would be a complete 180° turn around from the you of today, and Choi Chanhee would be the one groveling at your feet.

As soon as you walk into the cafe, your throat feels narrow, like it was closing in on you. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. It’s not like Chanhee knew you. He couldn’t possibly be aware of your existence, much less of your little fascination with him.

You see him sitting at a table for two, the straw of his drink trapped between his lips. He sips leisurely as he scrolls through his phone, likely waiting on Kevin since you’re sure he left his friend in the dark. You pick at a thread on your sweater as you stop in front of him, raising your hand in an awkward wave. Chanhee glances up, confusion in his features at first and then it morphs into something else.

A laugh has to be held back when he chokes on his drink, slapping a hand over his mouth. He stands up quickly, wiping his palms on his pants.

“Hi,” your voice is small, so far off from your usual boldness. “I’m Y/N. Kevin sent me.”

“Fucking Kevin,” he curses underneath his breath, forcing a smile. “Um, please sit.”

You take the seat across from him, eyes flickering around the coffee shop to absorb your surroundings. It’s pretty, the stars and planets painted all over the walls and ceilings. Even the drinks had celestial themed names. Your friend was right, you would love it here. It was right up your alley.

“I— uh— Kevin had texted me and told me what to order for him, but I’m assuming he meant for you, because he never told me you were uh— that you were coming.” He scratches the back of his neck as a server leaves a drink in front of you.

“He stopped me in the quad after my midterm and asked if I could fill in for him. Something came up apparently.” You explain, humming in appreciation when you taste your coffee. “He remembered that I was an Astronomy major and figured I was his best bet I guess.”

Chanhee purses his lips, it’s almost like he knows something you don’t. He nods slowly. “Yeah… I’m sure that’s why…”

The impromptu formal introduction between you goes on without a hitch. It goes so well, that the time flies faster than you’d hoped it would. You get a tiny peek into Choi Chanhee and his life as the TBZ fraternity treasurer, but it’s not enough to satiate that unbearable curiosity that pricks at you.

Thankfully, you have tomorrow to do exactly that.

Heejin and yourself arrive at the Tau Beta Zeta party that Saturday with a goal in mind; Getting Choi Chanhee into bed with you.

Okay. Maybe that wasn’t actually the main objective, but it was definitely a side quest. What you really wanted to do was get him to let his guard down. Like your friend said previously, you were the stereotypical party girl. Had there been a picture beside the term in a dictionary, your pretty little face would be there, a red solo cup in your hand and all. If he wound up being entranced by your womanly witchery, that was on him.

Just like your first go at wooing him, you decided to pull out all the stops. You’d worn your shortest, tightest fitting dress despite the weather not necessarily permitting it. It was a cute black strapless number that you paired with some long heeled boots and a warm fuzzy jacket. You looked hotter than the sun itself, and deep down you’d feel extremely disappointed if he wasn’t falling to his knees for you by the end of the night.

A sense of déjà vu washes over you the moment you step through the front door into the jam packed fraternity house. The bumping early 2000s music and the thrumming of the bass gave you an adrenaline rush like no other. Nothing could waver your confidence this roundabout. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.

Before you sink your claws into the treasurer, you need to grab yourself a drink. You and Heejin take a shot from one of the various liquor bottles on the counter, serving yourselves each a cup of whatever Jacob Bae threw together for the party. It was kind of funny that the resident bartender for these things wasn’t even a member of the frat. You and your friend cheers to the night ahead of you, manifesting that things go your way.

It’s rather easy to catch his eye even in the bustling crowd of drunk college students, glued in his usual spot on one of the living room sofas. His dark hair falls into his eyes when he glances down at his phone to check the time, almost as if he was counting down the hours, the minutes until this party was over. He brushes it out of his face with his index finger at the same time he raises his cup to his mouth, knocking back the contents with a slight wince.

He espies your presence immediately after that, raking your figure with an unrecognizable look in his gaze. Though you were shivering upon entering the house, your skin felt hot to the touch now, the burning intensity of his stare melting away any nerves that might’ve been lingering. You pull your jacket off of your shoulders, tossing it over your forearm as you snake through the bodies sardined between the two of you.

“Hi,” you greet once you’re in front of him. “I’m Y/N.”

His lips quirk upwards and he stands so you’re no longer peering down at him. In spite of meeting each other yesterday, he decides to play along. “I’m Chanhee.”

“Well, Chanhee,” you bite your acrylic nail, not bothering to hide the unabashed desire in your expression and drinking in his appearance like a glass of water. “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. You looked bored and I was wondering if I could change that. I know how to have a good time.”

Chanhee thinks it’s cute, the amount of effort you’re putting into this little charade. He doesn’t doubt that you knew of his reputation when it came to sleeping with girls. He knows he’s a bit conscientious when it comes to this sort of thing, but that’s only because he doesn’t want to deal with being seen as someone who’s ran-through. (For an example, please see (No) Strings Attached™.)

However, you were different. Chanhee thought you were cute from the very first time he saw you, which happened to be at a Tau Beta Zeta party last semester. He knew you were friends with Kevin, so maybe it was on him for the delay of your union, but he’d grown a little tired of always making the first move. He’s somewhat grateful that you were the type of girl who set her sights on something and never backed down from it. You were headstrong and that was exactly what had him hooked.

Nevertheless, it would be a bit of an issue. The only part of the rumors surrounding the treasurer that was true, was the part about him preferring his partners to be on the quieter side. There was something about them following his every demand, kneeling at his beck and call, that lit a fire underneath him. The mouthier they were, the less he enjoyed himself. But for some reason, he doesn’t think it’ll bother him as much with you. In fact, he thinks he’ll have fun putting you in your place.

“You know, Y/N,” he pushes your hair over your bare shoulder, letting his thumb graze your warm skin with a small but conniving grin. “I’m not too sure you’ll be able to cure this boredom that’s been plaguing me. It depends on what you have in mind.”

You might cry. A strained groan stays stuck in your throat, fighting to inch its way out of you. Fuck this stupid party. Fuck your stupid idea. You had a new mission. You needed him now and you needed him bad.

Your lips are on his in a matter of seconds, rushed and desperate. You don’t have the strength in you to act like you weren’t just about ready to combust. The curve of a smile can be felt through the kiss, his hands coming to rest on your waist and dig into the fabric of your dress. Had this been any other guy, any other day even, you would’ve freaked out over the PDA. Right now, though, you’re too lost in the moment, too absorbed in the high that kissing Choi Chanhee is providing.

His mouth travels along your jaw and neck, finally snapping you back to reality. With shaky breathing and a wavering voice, you step back from him. “Don’t you want— don’t we need some privacy?”

He laughs like he’s on the inside of a joke you’re unaware of. “Oh, so now you care about privacy? You didn’t when you were trying to seduce me ten minutes ago.”

Your cheeks flush impossibly more, cowering into the space where his shoulder meets his collarbone. All that confidence and for what? He really could not wait another second to see you crumble beneath him.

“Too shy for me to fuck you in front of all these people, sweetheart?” He asks in your ear, leaving a gentle kiss on the lobe as he does so.

You’re dizzy, so dizzy you might faint in the middle of this living room. Who would’ve known that such a pretty boy had such a filthy mouth on him? He knows he’s got you right where he wants you when you fist the material of his shirt, the vibrations of a whine on his neck. It’s kind of comical how little it took for you to crack.

He hauls you away to what you assume is his bedroom, fingers caressing the inside of your wrist. You think maybe he’s all talk, that he’s actually a big softie who couldn’t hurt a fly. The way he’s careful with his touch and making sure he doesn’t lose you as you weave through the other party attendees. At least, that’s what you thought.

But then he’s slamming his door shut and pinning you against it face first. His lips return to their prior position, sucking in the plush skin on your throat and your shoulders. You can feel him pressed into your lower back, hard and ready for you. He doesn’t seem to pay much attention to it, instead trailing his fingers down your front and sneaking under your dress.

He bunches it up around your hips, middle and ring digits circling your clit through the lace of your panties. Everything is escalating too quickly for you to comprehend. You whimper into the wood of the door, drool beginning to pool in your mouth. You’re so needy that you’re salivating over the prospects of what’s to come.

“Want more, Chanhee,” your words are muffled, but he understands you nonetheless.

“You want more?” He pouts, a false tone of sympathy in his voice. “Poor you, asking for something you can’t even handle.”

You squirm, raising your leg in an attempt to reach a different angle. The pads of his fingers apply an increased pressure on your clit, the friction caused by your underwear skyrocketing your heart rate. You know he can feel the pulse when his lips reconnect to that sensitive area just under your jaw. Your back arches, still craving and yearning for additional touch.

His fingers slip into the waistband of your thong, collecting your arousal and using it as a lubricant to glide through your folds. He thrusts two of them in and out of your entrance, the heel of his palm rubbing up against your clit. You moan, louder this time. His free hand shoves the top of your dress down, groping and kneading your bare breast. You wanted more, he’ll give you more.

You’re a whining, squirrely mess, humping his hand like a bitch in heat. It’s hilarious, really. The way you wanted him begging, but the tables seemed to have turned, flipping it the other way around. He ensures that he leaves his mark on you, biting your skin with the intent to bruise. He doesn’t care if you looked like you were attacked by a vicious animal. If Chanhee was anything, he was possessive, wanting everyone to know what was his and not to get near it lest they wanted to keep their lives. What better way to stake his claim than on your body, where anyone could see?

He senses that you’re close to your release, your walls clenching around his fingers and sucking them in further. Most people would’ve been generous, making your orgasm smooth sailing. But Choi Chanhee was not like most people. That much is obvious when he adds a third finger, restraining himself from groaning at the feeling of your cunt constricting and contracting. The stretch has your stomach tying in knots, each one growing tighter and tighter until they just about untangle altogether.

You cum with a guttural groan, nearly convulsing in his hold, but he keeps you pressed to the surface of the door. He doesn’t stop his motions, fingers curling and uncurling like he was reaching for something inside of you. You push your ass into his crotch, another whine escaping your lips when you feel his cock impressing into it. He bites his tongue to refrain from evoking a sound.

The poised nature of your regular personality makes a comeback, one of your hands cupping the side of his face. You pant as you speak, rasping slightly after all the moaning you just did. “Can you fuck me for real now?”

Chanhee forces your underwear down your legs roughly, kicking them out of the way once they hit the floor. “You’re such a goddamn brat. Nothing is ever enough for you is it?” You can hear rustling behind you, the unbuttoning of pants and the discarding of his shirt. And then you feel him. God, you might die. He’s flush between your lower lips, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “Gonna have to fuck you until you learn your place, don’t I?”

He squeezes your cheeks together with his thumb and forefinger, relishing in the adorable pout it forms. All you can do is nod, eyes fluttering shut when he finally slides inside of you. The weight of him sits heavy in your cunt, the singular drive of his hips causing your clit to bump into the door. It sends a rippled shockwave throughout your body, a voluminous moan breaching past your lips. Chanhee rests his forehead on your shoulder, staying still for a moment to gather himself.

It’s not long before he’s pistoning his cock into your pussy like a sword being sheathed and unsheathed. You claw at the wall as a means of grounding yourself, inconsistently paced cries and mewls of pleasure bouncing around the room. He hikes up your leg higher, palming at your tits so he can override your senses any way he can. You’re so lightheaded and tears have begun to spring at the corners of your eyes. It feels too good.

“O-Oh my god, you’re s-so— f-fuck Chanhee,” you babble, gasping for air as he continuously punches it out of you with every inch his cock buries into you.

He’s enjoying himself too much, loving how fucked out you look. He’s reduced you to an incoherent state of being. You curve your back a bit more for him, allowing the depth at which he slips in you to go further.

Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t take much to wind you back up to that summit from previously. You’re on the brink of your second orgasm, your chest heating up and your abdomen contracting. He doesn’t let up, pinching and thumbing at a peaked nipple to egg on your release. This one feels a lot stronger than the first, your knees nearly giving out on you.

“C’mon sweetheart, that’s it,” he coaxes, stroking your hair from your face.

Chanhee fucks you through it, allotting space for you to recover before he’s knocking you onto his bed. He removes your dress entirely and rubs up and down your thighs. The exhaustion is already beginning to settle in, but you realize that he hasn’t finished not once and you’d be hitting your third at this point. You’re overstimulated and your body aches all over, but you push through.

He finds your entrance again, pressing into your cunt with more ease. You whine, smushing your cheek into the mattress. Your toes curl and you fist at the sheets, eyes all but rolling to the back of your head where you see white spots and stars coating your vision. He grips your hips to hold you still, starting to rock back into your pussy with practiced aggression. He’s carnal with his movements, but it’s careful, almost like he doesn’t really want to hurt you.

“It’s too much—“ you interrupt yourself with a wail, the tears from earlier tracking along the sides of your face.

“I’ve fucked you stupid, haven’t I? Thought I was done with you?” He strains, folding over so he can kiss the skin of your collarbone and trail up to your mouth. His lips brush yours when he talks, teasing you as if he hadn’t already fucked you within an inch of your life. “Do you think I’m having fun yet?”

Your cunt sucks him in like a vacuum, your volume rising the closer you get to what you hope is your last orgasm of the night. What you needed was the best sleep ever after this. Your brain can barely form sentences, and you struggle to give him a proper response. “Y-Yes, Cha-Chanhee— oh god— s-so much fun,”

Your breath catches in your throat when that familiar sensation reappears. Chanhee is in his own world, focused on chasing his own release. His nails dig into the fat of your thighs, thrusts becoming deeper and slower. You reach between the two of you to swipe at your clit with your middle and ring fingers, the extra stimulation tipping you over that sweet edge.

Your orgasm crests upon you with so much intensity that you can’t even make a sound. If you do, it’s so far away from you that you don’t hear it. The uncontrollable fluttering of your walls sets Chanhee’s into action, his hips stuttering with a groan that doesn’t meet your ears. He fills you up with enough cum that it begins to spill out of you in spite of his cock still plugged inside your cunt. You both take a moment to recollect your bearings, chests clashing with each rise and fall from your breathing.

After what feels like forever, he pulls out and collapses on the bed beside you, the back of his hand thrown over his forehead.

“Holy shit— I mean— wow I really— I really didn’t think you were so…” You don’t finish your thought, head still stuck on the actions you’d committed prior.

“It’s always the quiet ones.” Chanhee shrugs, sighing dramatically.

“You are not quiet,” you turn your head to give him a pointed look. “But, I’m not complaining. I got my insides rearranged six ways to Sunday. Who’s the real winner here?”

“Me, actually,” he says, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “I’ve had the longer crush.”

“Y-You— huh?!” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head, comically wide like a deer’s caught in headlights. He laughs at your expression.

“I’ve been wanting to make a move on you since last semester,” he admits. “But I was kinda… discouraged? I guess? I feel like I’m the one who puts in too much effort all the time, with everything that I do. I wanted to see if maybe someone would do the same for me. I’m just lucky that it worked out in my favor.”

Your bottom lip juts out and you flip over to peck the tip of his nose tenderly. “Choi Chanhee, you’re extremely lucky. I almost gave up on you, like, a couple days ago.”

Chanhee’s laughter grows and he kisses you softly. “Well, I’m glad that you didn’t. Now I can take you on a real date to that space cafe. Not one that Kevin forced on us.”

“I like the sound of that.” You smile, cuddling into his side.

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