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cutehoons02 · 3 months ago

Text

Your favorite hot nerdy boy!

*pairing: hot nerdy idol Heeseung x writer Girl

*trope: brother best friend

*synopsis: What would happen if your crush from 4 years now found out that you wrote an extremely detailed one-shot and a little spicy with him as the protagonist? A disaster! Having a crush on Lee Heeseung was exhausting for you both because he was an idol, but also because he was your brother’s best friend and also because he was always surrounded by beautiful idols and fans who would do anything to attract his attention.

*tags: Lots of tension, Heeseung loves to tease the protagonist, slight wrinkling, possessive, jealous, both the protagonist and Heeseung are perverts, false shyness, a lot of kisses, fluff, masturbation (f. receives) unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) +18, reading of spicy scenes, fake innocent girl,pet names (good girl, princess,baby) (Hee)

(English is not my native language)

6.8k (🍬)

Sunghoon pt Jake pt

Heeseung was your favorite idol. He was your brother’s best friend, and to your bad luck, you had seen him debut and grow up with your brother. Every week, you had to see him on your social media, in the subway ads, on TV, and even when your brother made you some video calls. Lee Heeseung was always there.

That night, almost all the members had gone out to an event, and there was only Sunghoon with his girlfriend, Heeseung, and you, who had been visiting T/L Sunghoon’s girlfriend. Now they were spread out on the couch watching a movie, and you did not want to be a comfortable third.

You didn’t know exactly when it started. It was a silent crush, a little secret you had kept for years. You grew up watching Heeseung become more confident and brilliant on stage, always surrounded by beautiful and charismatic idols. Yet, every time you watched him in his natural habitat: the gaming chair, the messy hair, the focused expression while he played, your heart beat a little faster.

That night was no different. Sitting on the couch behind his you stared at Heeseung squatting in front of the computer, headphones that seemed to be glued to your ears, fingers flying on the keyboard as if he was orchestrating a digital symphony. On the table next to him, a tower of empty ramen bowls told the story of another intense gaming afternoon. Your gaze shifted from the figure of Heeseung to the computer screen, where digital characters moved frantically. He was immersed in the game, his hands dancing on the keys with an almost hypnotic precision. You stayed enchanted for minutes, even forgetting to scramble on the phone.

You didn’t understand what was so striking about Heeseung. It wasn’t just his appearance, although he was objectively charming. It was the contrast. The way he went from being the self-confident idol on stage to a simple and shy boy who got lost in video games and ramen.

«Do you like the show?» asked Heeseung suddenly, without taking his eyes off the screen.

You jumped, surprised by her statement. "W-what?"

Heeseung turned around just enough to show you his mischievous smile. «You were staring at me, princess. If you want to learn how to play, I can teach you, you know?»

You blushed and looked down at your phone, pretending to be busy. "I was just curious. It’s not that I’m interested in it so much."

«Mh-hm,» he did, raising an eyebrow as he returned to focus on the game.

Some notifications invade your field of view on the phone and you already know from which app they came: Tumblr. One evening months ago you downloaded the app out of curiosity and found #Enhypen x reader and there were thousands of one-shots on each member including your brother! , but as you were running you just like Heeseung’s and after weeks of reading stories about him you had the unhealthy idea to write one about him and published it on Tumblr under a pseudonym.

It was born as an innocent outburst, but by the time the story went viral - with hundreds of comments, reblogs, and likes you had experienced an explosive combination of embarrassment and pride. But no one knew that you were the author.

You heard Sunghoon’s girlfriend call you from the living room and went to her without taking your phone with you and this thing would have had repercussions that you didn’t even imagine or maybe, yes, only in your dreams.

You got up from the couch, stretching slightly. "I’m going to T/L. I’ll be right back."

Heeseung nodded distractedly, his eyes still glued to the computer screen as he dodged some virtual opponent’s attacks. He didn’t even notice that you had left your phone by the keyboard, with the screen still on; only when a notification sound caught his attention did he look down. The small blue Tumblr logo was shining in the top corner.

Tumblr?

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, more amused than anything. He knew that by now most girls read fanfiction about the famous one-shot, but that you even had an active profile that intrigued him a lot.

Another notification sound. A like. A comment.

"Wow, this story is fantastic! It’s so detailed! It seems the author knows Heeseung really well."

Heeseung slightly opened his eyes. Wait a minute. Like? Comments?

He looked at the screen and found the original post. And then he saw it.

Title: "Your favorite hot nerdy boy."

For a few seconds, he just stared at it, struggling between the urge to laugh and the one to feel vaguely offended. Nerdy. Pervy. Gamer Boy?

The smile spread over his lips as he opened the post. And when he started to read, he had to hold back a laugh.

The plot was simple, but so detailed that he had some doubts about your level of observation.

The story described him in his room, exactly as he was at that moment: sitting at his desk, immersed in video games, with a ramen tower next to it and his glasses slightly lowered over his nose. In the story, the protagonist entered the room timidly, finding him playing, and he, instead of ignoring her like any obsessed gamer, lured her to himself with a smile and then started provoking her.

-You wanna play with me, baby?" had said the pervy nerdy Heeseung, with a mischievous smile, before taking her wrist and pulling it on his knees. -

Heeseung covered his mouth with one hand so he wouldn’t burst out laughing. Baby. Knees. Nerdy. Pervy. What the hell was he reading?

He leaned a little more on the phone, scrolling through the comments.

"This is the version of Heeseung we needed, thank you for this pearl."

"Please tell us you will write a pt2l! We need more nerdy Hee ruining lives with her video games and dangerously sexy tone."

"Wait... why does everything seem so accurate? 🤨 Are you sure you don’t really know him?"

Well, that was the comment that really made him laugh. Because yes, you did know him. Maybe a little too well.

He let himself go on the chair, crossing his arms. So the small and innocent Y/n was not so innocent, eh? Not only did he read these stories, but he wrote them. And not on any generic idol. About him.

He heard footsteps approaching and just got around to putting the phone back where it was before you came in.

"What are you laughing at?" you asked, looking at him with suspicion as you sat down on the couch again.

Heeseung turned slowly to you, with a smirk on his face and eyes shining with fun. «Oh, nothing. I was just thinking...» He leaned against the back, studying it carefully. «Do you like gamers, Y/n?»

You stared at him for a second, confused. "What?"

He crossed his arms, leaning slightly forward. «I mean... Do you find charming the boys who spend nights playing, with glasses on the nose and a little bit of a husky voice for too many hours at the microphone? Maybe those who have a bit of a nerd side, but also a little... pervy?»

Your heart stopped. No. No, no, no.

Heeseung looked at you with that damned cunning smile, and suddenly you knew. Had he read? Did you look where you had placed the phone and it was upside down so he had rummaged in YOUR phone?

"Oh my God," you murmured, putting your hand to your mouth.

He chuckled. «No, no, go on. I’m curious. What happens next in the story? The nerdy pervy Heeseung keeps playing or...» He leaned over to you, lowering his voice. «Does he decide to have fun in another way?»

You jumped up, cheeks burning. "You read, didn’t you?! Oh my God, Heeseung!"

He moved before you could hit him with a pillow, laughing openly. «Hey, it’s not my fault that someone left their phone right in front of me. You shouldn’t have written such a good story.»

You were mortified. Destroyed. Could the floor open and swallow you, please?

Heeseung stood up, still with that damned amused air. «You know, if you wanted to write about me so much, you could have asked me for some more details.»

"I’m going to kill you," you hissed.

He laughed again, raising his hands in surrender, you wanted to leave that room and never see him again and you started to get up but Hee looked at you with a look. «Don’t go away Y/n, it’s not over for you!»

You sat on the couch, hands nervously entwined as you tried to concentrate on Heeseung’s computer screen.

The game that obsessed him so much seemed to her a jumble of colors, explosions, and strategies you didn’t understand, but at that moment the problem was not that.

The problem was that you couldn’t face him anymore and the most brazing thing was that you knew he was enjoying every second of your awkward expression, and the tense silence between you two was proof of how much he was having fun.

«Strange, eh?» broke the silence Heeseung, with his voice steeped in amusement.

"W-what?" He turned on the chair, leaning his elbow on the armrest and looking at you with glittering eyes. «You. You are always so sweet and innocent with everyone, the little sister that everyone wants to protect...» He took a dramatic pause before adding with a smirk: «...and then write one-shot hot about me?»

You’d sink into the couch, your face on fire. "They weren’t that hot and then I wrote one, not more!"

Heeseung burst out laughing. «Ah, so you admit that you wrote it?»

You opened your eyes wide, realizing the trap she fell into. "No! I mean, yes! I mean... Ugh!" You covered your face with your hands. "You shouldn’t have read it.»

«And I did but not quite,» he said, in a tone all too satisfied. Then he came slightly closer, folding his arms on the table and leaning towards you. «You know, I could tell your brother.»

You felt a shiver of panic across your back. "You wouldn’t do that."

«Oh, I would,» he replied, holding a grin. «I can already imagine the scene: 'Hey, did you know that your adorable little sister spends her time writing stories in which I’m a pervy nerd boy?'»

"I hate you," you hissed, glaring at him with your gaze.

«No, you don’t hate me», replied Heeseung, resting his chin on one hand. "In fact, according to Tumblr, you love me and have a little obsession with me!» You threw a pillow in his direction, but he blocked it with a laugh. «All right, all right. We can make a deal.»

"What kind of deal?" you said in a low voice because you already knew that it would not bring anything good

Heeseung leaned back into the chair, enjoying the moment. «If you don’t want me to tell your brother... you must read it out loud.»

You were speechless. "You’re joking."

He shook his head, the smile that did not seem to fade. «Not at all. I want to hear with what tone you described me.»

"No, absolutely not," you said, shaking your head in panic.

Heeseung shrugged. «All right. Then I’ll call your brother.»

You stepped up, reaching out to stop him. "Wait! You’re a real idiot."

«And you are indeed a secret writer,» he replied with a grin.

You had two choices: to die of shame in front of him, or to die of shame in front of your brother and probably all the members of Enhypen.

"Okay," you murmured. "I’ll read it."

«Perfect», said Heeseung, chin-leaning on his hands, ready to enjoy the show. «I want to hear every word, from first to last.»

You never thought it would end this way, yet here you are, forced to read your own one-shot hot... in front of the guy who inspired it.

You wanted to disappear. You wanted to take the phone, erase everything, run away, and forget forever that that night ever happened. But you knew that Heeseung wouldn’t let him.

He was still sitting in his gaming chair, phone in hand, scrolling through the words of his one-shot as if it were the best novel he had ever read.

«So... », he said with a small smile as he glanced at her. «Where had I been?»

You came close, trying to rip the phone out of his hands. "Give it back! You didn’t have to read it!"

Heeseung easily leaned aside, lifting his arm and moving the phone out of her reach. «Oh no, princess. Now I want to know how it goes and if you don’t read it I’ll read it for you, you promised otherwise I’ll tell everyone your dirty secret.»

He opened the text and, with a low and amusing voice, began to read aloud.

"He was sitting in his gaming chair, headphones around his neck and the controller still firmly in his hands. But when she came closer, he dropped it on the desk, taking it for life and making it sit on its legs..."

"Heeseung"

He did not stop. With an almost theatrical intonation, he continued:

"As he played, his hands slowly slid on her back, fingers tracing invisible paths across the thin skin of her shirt. It was a distracted gesture, but at the same time so intimate that you can’t breathe..."

Heeseung put down his phone and looked at her with a clever smile. «Interesting.»

"Enough, okay? You’ve had your fun," you mumbled, trying to grab the phone again.

But Heeseung stopped you, gripping your wrist gently. «Wait,» he said, in that low tone he used when he wanted to put you in trouble. «Have you ever been on a boy’s lap while playing?»

"What?!" you pulled your arm back as if his skin was scorched. "Of course not!"

He leaned against the back of the chair, clapping his hand on his thigh. «Do you want to try?» felt your face become glowing. "You are completely crazy."

«It’s not true», said Heeseung, laughing quietly. «I say only that it would be a shame to write these things and not test them in reality.»

Clenched your fists, trying to think of a clever answer, but the problem was that... You couldn’t say no. Because yes, the idea made you die of embarrassment, but it was also what you had written. Why did you write it, if you never thought you wanted it?

Heeseung looked at you, studying you as if he could read your mind. Then he tilted his head to one side. «Then?» close your lips. "No."

He didn’t answer immediately, but he glanced at you, looking at the way you were holding your phone in your hands, and how your breath was slightly more irregular. Then he smiled. «Lie.»

He made you think. "I’m not lying!"

«Mh-mh» he did, unconvinced. Then he reached out to you with a hand, without stopping looking into your eyes. «Come here, little writer.»

You stood still for a few seconds, torn between rationality and desire. You knew it was a bad idea. You knew that if you got close, you wouldn’t be able to pretend this was a game anymore; but in the end... you took a step forward. Then another one.

Heeseung took your hand and gently pulled you towards himself, guiding you to sit on his legs.

You held your breath. You felt the warmth of his body, the solidity of his arms that held you still. He settled down better in the chair as if it were the most normal thing in the world. «See? It’s not so strange.»

you did not answer, too busy to hear the beat of your heart go crazy. Heeseung came back to get the controller, turning on the game screen. With naturalness, without even thinking too much, he let a hand slide on your back, caressing it slowly, exactly as in the story and you shudder.

He smiled, he had noticed. «Do you like it?» he asked, his voice slightly lower.

You looked down, biting your lip. "Yes," you admitted, barely a whisper. Heeseung made a little satisfied sound, returning to focus on the screen and at the same time continued playing as if nothing had happened. But his smile said otherwise. because he wanted to drive you crazy and the game had just begun.

The silence in the room was broken only by the sound of the keys pressed and the ticking of the mouse while Heeseung, with one hand, continued to play. The other one, instead, was slipping lazily down your back, making little circles on your skin through the thin fabric of the mesh.

You were completely stiff in his arms, his cheeks burning, his heart beating so fast that you could hear it in your ears.

«Mh?» he said, as if nothing had happened, the warm breath that touched your neck. «You are so rigid. You must relax.»

"How can I relax if"

«Shhh,» he interrupted you, and with a slow movement, he took back his phone. «Where were we? Ah, right.» He cleared his voice, then began to read aloud:

"As the sound of the game continued to fill the room, he let slip a hand under her shirt, touching the warm skin on her side. Then he bent down and left a soft kiss on his neck, feeling the body shivering under his touch."

You stared and tried to get away, but Heeseung held you with a gentle but firm grip.

«Too?» he asked, with a funny smirk.

"Yes! Too much!" you exclaimed with your face on fire.

But Heeseung didn’t seem to want to stop. Instead, he slowly lowered the phone, tilted his head, and let his lips touch the sensitive skin on your neck just as described in the story.

You held your breath, a shiver passed through your back. "Heeseung... what are you doing?"

«I’m just following the plot,» he muttered against your skin, his voice slightly amused but also lower than usual.

Then, without saying anything else, he let his hand slip under the edge of your shirt, hot fingers touching your side, just like in history.

You wanted to disappear, you wanted to protest, but your body was betraying every single rational thought.

"Hee... I will..."

He stopped for a moment, his lips still close to his skin. «Do you want me to stop?» you stood in silence for a few seconds, desperately trying to find an answer.

Then, with a little voice, you admitted: "...No."

Heeseung smiled at your skin. «Good girl.»

The room was now immersed in an electric voltage. The sound of the game was now a distant memory; Heeseung had turned off everything, but not his fun.

With the phone in his hand, he kept reading the one-shot as his fingers slowly traced your warm skin under the shirt.

«Let’s see what happens next,» he muttered, in a low and slightly husky voice. «Ah, here we are...» 'He took her by the hips and turned her, placing her on top of him in a horseshoe. She stood on him, with her heart beating fast, while he grabbed her face and kissed her with arrogance as if he did not want to let her escape.'

Heeseung paused for a moment, looking down at her with a dangerous smirk. «Interesting. What do you say, princess? Should we try this part too?»

You opened your eyes wide, the body stretching out instantly. "Heeseung, no, it’s an unreal thing, I wrote it so much at random. Let’s finish here."

He chuckled softly, but there was something in his eyes that looked slightly darker than usual. «You always say no, but you don’t move.»

Before you could argue, you felt his hands gently clench your hips. In a moment, with almost humiliating ease, Heeseung lifted you slightly and turned you around, putting you on his horse.

You could feel Heeseung’s warm breath against your face, the way his hands were still resting on his hips, holding you there as if he wasn’t going to let go.

Your heart was beating like a drum. "H-Heeseung..."

He bowed his head, looking at you with those dark eyes that seemed to pierce her soul. «Tell me something, Y/n.» His voice was low and calm but with a shimmering edge of authority. «How long have you had a crush on me?»

You felt the heat explode in your face. No. No, you couldn’t admit it.

You clear your throat, trying to take a more confident tone. "Me? For you?" You laughed nervously, turning away. "Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t have a crush on you."

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, his lips curled into a sort of predatory grin. «No?»

"No," you said, crossing your arms to give you a sense of security. "And anyway... I may have also written a one-shot about the other members. You’re not as special as you think you are!"

For a moment, Heeseung said nothing. But then, without warning, your Tumblr profile started to scroll and after a few seconds, the screen lit up with one unique, unambiguous truth and put it in front of you.

There was only one shot on his profile. That.

Over 4,000 likes. Hundreds of comments. All about him.

Heeseung looked at you, and this time his smile was different. Darker. More confident. More... arrogant.

«Here I see only a one-shot and it’s on me, eh?» whispered, the voice steeped in satisfaction.

You wanted to die of embarrassment. "It was an accident," you murmured weakly.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. «Don’t lie, princess». Then, without giving you time to react, he grabbed your chin with one hand and forced you to look him in the eye, and for a moment the world stopped.

And then, Heeseung kissed you.

The kiss was not gentle, it wasn’t sweet. It was pure domination. Arrogant. Self-confident. His lips moved on yours with a confidence that made you tremble, as if he wanted to show you exactly who was in control at the time.

You blew when you heard his tongue asking for access to yours and you instinctively grabbed the collar of his sweater to find a grip. He squeezed you a little more by the hips, holding you firmly above him as his mouth explored yours with an exasperating slowness.

When he parted, he had a smug smile on her lips. «Tell me again that you don’t have a crush on me.» you tried to recover, the irregular breath. "I..." But Heeseung shook his head. «No, you know what? It doesn’t matter.» He came up again, touching your earlobe with his lips. He was very happy. «Because now I know the truth.»

And again slammed his lips on yours with exasperating slowness, as if he wanted to drive you crazy, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to your mad heart. The kiss was a perfect mix of sweetness and mastery. He was determined, sure, but not aggressive if he wanted to take his time as if he wanted to savor every second.

His hands, resting on your hips, held you exactly where he wanted you to, without giving you the chance to escape and you were completely lost in that feeling, in the heat of his mouth against yours, the way every movement made you feel like you were falling into a vortex that you didn’t want to get out of.

Then, without realizing it, you missed a sound. A small, involuntary groan. "Hee..."

Time seemed to stand still.

Heeseung was stuck for a moment, then slightly detached from you, enough to look you straight in the eye and the smile she gave you was something dangerous. Sure. Of cheeky.

«Say it again.»

You felt the heat rise up your neck to your cheeks. "What?" You tried to deny it, but his voice trembled.

Heeseung looked down at your lips, then he looked back at you with that hot nerdy boy look that made you crazy. «You have just groaned my name.» He stroked your back slowly, sliding his fingers along your uncovered skin. «I want to hear it again.»

You clenched your fists against the fabric of his sweatshirt, trying to ignore the way his voice made you shiver. "Stop..."

But he didn’t want to stop. He brought his mouth closer to your ear, his voice low and almost hypnotic. «I want to hear my name on your lips. Only mine. No other boy.» You felt your heart stop for a moment, then start beating even harder and honestly, you didn’t know how to handle that version of Heeseung-too confident, too cheeky, too irresistible.

You were desperate to find a way to shift the conversation.

"I should go..."

He just leaned back, tilting his head with a funny smile. «And the story? You haven’t finished it.»

Bite your lip. "I don’t... I don’t want to tell you what happens next."

Heeseung leaned against the back of his gaming chair, still with you on his lap, and looked at you with a smug look. «Why not? So far we have been faithful to the plot, no?» shook your head with force. " Until here it could also be there, but... after becomes more..."

He raised an eyebrow, amused by his hesitation. «More?»

You looked down, playing with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "More... spicy."

Heeseung’s laugh was low and deep as if he had just heard something extremely interesting. «Oh? How spicy?»

You shrugged. "Enough."

He looked at you for a few seconds, then came closer again, touching your chin with his fingers. «Tell me.»

"The protagonist... I mean, you..."

Heeseung nodded impatiently. «Continue."

"... makes the protagonist feel good with her fingers and mouth."

He laughed softly. «Oh, really?»

You wanted to sink into shame. "Heeseung, I can’t..."

He looked at you with a dangerous smile. «Y/n, you wrote a one-shot hot about me and posted it on the internet for thousands of people. But you can’t tell me to my face, what have you written so forbidden about me?» he said laughing.

Hit him in the chest. "Stop laughing like that!"

He became more serious, but his gaze remained intense. «Ok, I ask you differently.» He took your chin between two fingers, forcing you to look him in the eye. «At the end of the story, you and I... do we have sex or love?»

Your heart lost a beat. The way he said it, in that low and sure voice, made you tremble.

"N-no. We don’t make love."

Heeseung stopped. «No?»

You looked down. "I... knew that you were not in love with me. So, in the story... let’s say we would only have sex."

For a moment, there was only silence in the room. Then, suddenly, Heeseung burst into laughter.

It was a warm, deep, amused... and slightly unbelieving laugh.

You looked at him with a frown. "Why are you laughing?"

Heeseung stared at you with a mixture of fun and something else-something deeper, more dark. «It’s just that...» He shook his head, still laughing. «Everyone sees you as the sweet and innocent girl. And here you are, sitting on my lap, telling me that you wrote a one-shot about me where we 'just' had sex.»

You cover your face with your hands. "Oh, my God, will you stop saying that?"

He smiled, tilting his head. «No. It’s too funny.»

Then he lowered his voice, the tone again full of that dangerous charm. «But tell me, Y/N... in the story, at the end, does the protagonist repent?»

Shook your head without looking at him. "No."

He approached, almost whispering against his skin. «And you? Would you regret if what you wrote became reality?"

Your heart lost a beat before you lost 1,000 years of life when you heard that question from the lips of Heeseung and the boy you had a crush on for 4 years. Without thinking for a moment it was your turn to take the reins and you kissed him, this time the kiss was more passionate, sloppy and you put your arms around his neck to feel it even more and he put his hands around your ass and got up slightly stumbling from his gaming chair and as he approached his bed he said:

«Tell me to stop now or I won’t do it anymore because I want you all for myself from today on» you made no head and Hee put you in his big bed, Hee looked at you with his eyes of children, and said:

«Princess, maybe we didn’t understand each other but you must use your lips and your mouth to speak, to tell me what you want me to do. I don’t want to do things you’ll regret, what do you want right now?»

Heeseung slammed your pants with his big hands and you just jerked slightly because he had a little cold hand.

"I want you to touch me," you mumble shamefully, and his lips rise with a smile of a grin.

«You are so pretty, really, who would have thought that you would ask her sweet and innocent Y/n to touch her.» Hee sighs, smiling fondly, but there is a sneaky gleam in his eyes as he looks at you; Hee begins rubbing his overalls length into the center of your core. You wanted to be touched with his hands not with his cock that pushed and then lowered, the friction made you moan a little "Mm-mm," protesting, but the way your hips move against him, rolling back and forth and rustling brazenly in search of relief, He tells another story, Hee laughed because he wanted to ruin you but at the same time be also cautious with you.

«Don’t you like it? But wait... what did you say before?» he asks, with a mocking cadence in his words. «I want you to touch me,» echoes your earlier request in a very bad imitation of your voice. «Well, I’m touching you, princess, don’t you like it?» When your only answer is a small nod, shake your head with disapproval, and the look becomes dark. «Words.»

"Yes," whimpering, without wasting a minute, slipping his smooth fingers over your underwear band and starting to caress your folds, fingers that slip through your excitement with embarrassing ease.

«You’re a disaster down here», he comments, her eyes lit up with joy and something wild, primordial as it teases you. «Do you like me so much? Hm, when you read and write those dirty things about me you touched?» He seems to need no answer as he smiles at you brazenly, scrutinizing your face intensely to absorb every reaction to his touch, no matter how small.

It slides your fingers up, up, up until it touches the lower part of your clitoris, and you wail, wriggling.

«Answer me Y/n» nodding weakly and laughing with a low voice and husky

«Show me», he croaks, and you blink, too embarrassed by her request. «Show me how you do it when you are alone when you think of me».

"I never did it at all Hee" he shrugged and gave you his hand and with a glance invited you to proceed; with the cheeks in flames, guided his hand to massage your clitoris in circles, Your abdomen stiffened by reflex every time it fingers touch the sensitive lower part of your clitoris.

«Speak to me, princess, don’t be shy», she gently urges you

"I only rub it in circles like this," you mumble, with a slightly husky voice for desire, and the change does not go unnoticed if Heeseung’s intensifying gaze means something.

«Don’t you go in?» he asks softly, and you shake your head.

"I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that to you," you whine, and he breathes in abruptly, swearing quietly, taking your panties off with already some leaks, and your pussy was already excited.

«I want to try something, do you trust me, princess?» you made myself with my head «I want to touch you as you like and at the same time I will touch you, suck and bite those turgid buds that are almost about to escape from the mesh for how hard they are and I will make you come»

"okay," you pulled up your shirt, and with a strong movement you took off the bra and your breast flipped slightly at the sight of your breast Heeseung cursed under his voice, with one hand she wrapped a breast and with her mouth, he started to suck and bite and at the same time with the other hand he taunted your clitoris and without warning you put one of his fingers in your core and you arch your back for the various sensations of pleasure that you felt.

"Hee" He sucks your buds with an almost ferocious ferocity, alternating breasts as if he never had enough, and his hand creeps around your side to draw you closer to him. As she pops your nipple back and forth with her tongue, her fingers pump into your pussy and stroke you closer to your orgasm until you’re so close that you can practically savor the sweet, intoxicating sensation of ecstasy. «Show me what sound you make when you come, princess.»

"It’s so beautiful," you whine, and he hums in agreement.

«Say my name, darling".

"Heeseung," you groan brazenly, and he makes a sound halfway between moaning and growling as he pulls your nipple with his teeth.

Does not stop taking care of your breasts alternating sucking and clicking and rolling his tongue around the buds until you fall, your body cools against the bed to support you as you come, and at the end, pulls out his fingers covered with excitement from your pussy, Sliding them over your lower lip before pushing your fingers into your mouth to suck.

You do it with an awkward look and he was watching every movement of your lips as you suck his finger.

«I bet that wasn’t in your story!» with a little shy smile you did no head and after a while, you saw Heeseung put one of his little pillows under you and push down at the same time your pants and boxer shorts, he spread your legs, fits between them and aligns the tip with your entry

«Ready, princess?» asks, and you nod cautiously, the eyes that come down from his face to where the thick head of its length presses against your core. «Good girl» whispers before slowly pushing into you, covering your mouth slightly with the palm of your hand while breathing loudly, Heeseung was seriously afraid that Sunghoon or his girlfriend could hear him fucking with you but who cared; he heard him groan, and come up with his girlfriend’s name.

"So beautiful," you whisper in amazement, and he chuckles softly into your ear, his lips pressed on the spot just behind your lobe.

«Feel so tight around me, darling, feel how you’re taking me,» he grunts, gasping breath in your ear. «So fucking good...»

"Heeseung, move," you whisper urgently as it touches the bottom within you, and he obeys, pulling out the tip and pushing back into you. A loud hiss of air comes out of your lungs, and he sucks on your ear lobe, making you emit a loud groan.

«God, do you want to make everyone hear who is fucking you? I remind you that we are not alone»

"Mm-! No, I don’t" you insist among your cries of pleasure, and he shakes his head with a mocking smile.

«Yes, you do» he teases you. «You want everyone to hear my name moaning and what will they think of you? The little and innocent Y/n is getting fucked like the perfect little doll obsessed with me and my dick»

"Hee-seung-" stutters, small noises leave you with every powerful push of his hips. It is so good, so big and thick, and it is filling you in the right way and hitting all the right spots, and it becomes too very quickly, an overwhelming amount of pleasure flowing through your body as it fucks you. He was much more good and realistic at all the times you had written, read on Tumblr, or thought about what it would be like to be his. His fingers find your clitoris, rubbing it in quick circles just as you showed him before. "Fuck, stop, too..."

«Stop lying, you said too much today so I should punish you for not letting me fuck you?» Whispers, moving to tilt the hips towards you in the right way so that each shot of the hips sends its tip directly into your G-spot.

You feel heat behind your eyes and the first tear comes down before you can dry it, another tear follows after that as the pleasure consumes you almost completely.

«Princess, don’t cry, I’m making you feel good and I’m giving you all that you wrote about me", he reached out his free hand to wipe the tears.

"So good, too good," you stutter, and he laughs, «Fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry.»

"Please let me come" plead, and his movements stutter,

«Yes? Does the princess want to come?» he grunts, his eyes closing for a moment as your walls bend again around him. «Fuck, it’s so nice-come for me, baby.»

Without any need, you promptly collapse around him with a series of curses and "please" and you just say his name while your nails stick in the back, making him slightly drool. You sure look disastrous, your eyes moist and shiny as tears run down your cheeks.

«I’m close-dick-» grunts. «I’m coming, where do you want it?»

"Inside me, please..." moans weakly, and he makes a sound that is a mixture of a smug laugh and a groan.

«I can’t believe everyone thinks you’re a saint, an innocent girl and now you’re begging for my sperm. Do you want me to fill you up?» Breathe, the hips that penetrate you.

"Please..." you whine, and he swears to himself.

«Fuck, take it all», he pushes, his hips pressing against yours while he buries himself in you and unloads his load. «It’s all for you,» he says breathlessly as its length contracts inside of you.

It stays inside you for a moment, both of you try to catch your breath until he comes out from you and kisses you.

The room was immersed in a warm and comfortable silence, broken only by the slow and still slightly irregular breaths of you and Heeseung.

The sheets were a messy tangle around your bodies, while the soft light of the lamp illuminated the soft contours of your figures. Heeseung passed a hand through your hair, fingers gently intertwining between the strands, as if he wanted to memorize every detail of that moment. You were still with red cheeks, playing with his fingers, drawing little circles on the back of his hand.

After a while, he spoke in that relaxed and slightly amused tone that always made her heart beat.

«How much?»

You looked up, confused. "In what way?"

Heeseung laughed softly, shaking his head as if it were obvious. «How long have you had a crush on me?»

You flashed your eyes and instinctively covered your face with his hands. "No... I don’t know," the men lied, trying to hide their embarrassment.

He gently extended his hands, forcing you to look at him. «Y/n». His tone was low, amused, almost hypnotic. «Don’t lie to me.»

You looked down, biting your lip, then sighed. "Perhaps... four years."

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, surprised. «Four years?»

You slowly stare, feeling ashamed. "I didn’t know it myself at first, but then it became clear to me when I saw you for the first time on stage."

He looked at you for a long moment, then burst out laughing. «Four years?! Baby, it’s so much.»

You punched him lightly in the chest, sulky. "Here! And stop teasing me."

Heeseung chuckled, holding you close to him. «I’m not kidding, it’s just... absurd. Four years.» He shook his head, then lowered his voice, almost as if he was confessing a secret. «I have had a kind of crush on you for a couple of months.»

You raised your head of the shot, eyes wide open. "What?"

He smiled, stroking your cheek with his thumb. «Yeah. You didn’t really think I hadn’t noticed you, did you?»

You looked down, still incredulous, and he squeezed you harder.

For a while, they just stood there, embracing, enjoying that new sweet silence that spoke more than a thousand words.

Then, with a clever smile, Heeseung whispered against your ear: «So... if it worked so well, do you think you can write more one-shots about me?»

You lifted your head from the shot, hitting it lightly on his chest. "NO!" «Come on, you could at least make me the protagonist of an entire series.»

Shook my head, my eyes glistening. "No, I don’t need to imagine anything anymore. Better to hear it live."

Heeseung looked at you satisfied. «Excellent answer.»

And he kissed you again.

Taglist: @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @immelissaaa @d4-b1 @firstclassjaylee @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs

Comments and rebblog are appreciated:)

#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen fluff #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #lee heesung smut #lee heeseung imagines #lee know x reader #enhypen heeseung #heeseung smut #heeseung #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hyung line #enhypen headcanons

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treecampusseo · 2 years ago

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Free Learning Spoken English in Easy Way by TreeCampus

TreeCampus is suitable for anyone who wants to learn spoken English for free and in an easy way. Whether you need English for work, study, travel, or personal interest, TreeCampus will help you achieve your goals and enhance your communication skills. Join TreeCampus today and start your journey to speak English like a pro.

Know More -- https://treecampus.in/

#spoken english online free #free learning spoken english #learn english speaking online free #free app for english speaking practice #best english learning app for free

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englishcoursetips · 2 years ago

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Which app is best for learn English?

There are several excellent apps available for learning English, each catering to different learning styles and preferences. The "best" app for learning English can vary depending on your specific goals and needs. Here are some popular English language learning apps to consider

Duolingo: Duolingo is a widely recognized language learning app that offers English courses for speakers of various languages. It gamifies the learning process and covers vocabulary, grammar, listening, and speaking skills.

Rosetta Stone: Rosetta Stone provides immersive language learning experiences, including English. It focuses on developing speaking and listening skills through context-rich exercises.

Babbel: Babbel offers interactive English courses that focus on real-life conversations and practical vocabulary. It's suitable for beginners to intermediate learners.

Memrise: Memrise is known for its engaging and mnemonic-based learning approach. It offers English courses that cover vocabulary, pronunciation, and cultural insights.

Busuu: Busuu is a social language learning platform with English courses that include grammar lessons, vocabulary practice, and conversation opportunities with native speakers.

HelloTalk: HelloTalk is unique in that it connects language learners with native speakers for language exchange. You can practice your English while helping others learn your native language.

BBC Learning English: The BBC Learning English app provides free lessons, videos, and audio materials to improve your English skills. It's particularly strong for listening comprehension.

Tandem Language Exchange: Tandem connects language learners with native speakers for language exchange through text, voice, and video chat. It's an excellent way to practice conversational English.

#Which app is best for learn English?#English learning

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lancermylove · 10 months ago

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Learning His Language (HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Leaders x gn!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: I saw the post about the requests being open but everything said it was closed. So if they are closed my apologies. May I request a Gn reader trying to learn the dorm leaders languages. Like how Idia is Greek or malleus being like Celtic?Again if I was wrong and requests are closed I apologize.

A/N: Requests were open. I had the open post queued and forgot to change closed to open in the other places. 😅

———————————————

Idia Shroud (Greek)

Not many have taken an interest in his culture, so when he hears you trying to speak Greek behind closed doors, he is shocked. He hears wedding bells.

Ortho tells him to let you learn on your own, but Idia can't possibly do that. So, he develops an app for you.

Not once does he laugh when you mispronounce something, and he is surprisingly patient with you.

With his help, you will be speaking Greek in no time. Then, the two of you can make fun of the other students without them knowing.

Riddle Roseheart (British)

The moment he hears you trying to speak English, he becomes your teacher, even if you don't want him to be. He is determined to teach you.

Riddle is the best teacher you can ask for, but he can be very strict. Expect him to send you texts about grammar rules and give you short quizzes just to see your progress.

With him teaching you, you will be a pro at English in a few months.

Meanwhile, the students in Heartslabyul hear wedding bells and can't wait to attend your wedding in the future.

Kalim Al-Asim (Arabic)

Kalim can't control his happiness when he hears you speaking broken and incorrect Arabic for the first time. He gives you a bone-crushing hug.

He tries to teach you, but you end up confused each time. Jamil can't take it anymore and volunteers to be your personal tutor alongside Kalim.

While the dorm leader shares the Arabic culture, movies, and music with you, Jamil teaches you the technical parts of the language.

When you start speaking somewhat fluently, Kalim throws a party in your honor. Then, he calls his siblings and tells them he is ready to bring their sister-in-law/brother-in-law home with him.

For the rest, visit my website: Learning His Language

———————————————

➣ Please visit my website for the full masterlist!

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #twst leona #malleus draconia #twst malleus #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #twst kalim #vil schoenheit #twst vil #idia shroud #twst idia

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 months ago

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Fix it For You

Igor x fem!reader

You meet Igor at a bar and he somehow worms his way into your heart by being your personal handyman.

word count: 10k

This is in collaboration with the talented, brilliant, amazing, show stopping @the-witty-pen-name! Love you, Cole!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) oral (both m and f receiving) mention of grief and loss of a loved one

The bar is nothing but busy when Igor enters it. He was hoping a small place like this would be quiet but it’s fucking loud that he can barely even hear himself think. He’s about to just leave when he sees you behind the bar, a bright smile on your face as you serve drinks. He thinks he can stay for a minute.

He shrugs off his jacket and sets it on a still before sitting down. You turn towards him and your face lights up as you make eye contact with him, almost as if you’re old friends. He’s trying his best to hide his pink cheeks, hoping that you can’t see them.

He catches your eye immediately and you think you might actually flirt with him for real and not just to get tips. He’s cute, unlike most of the guys you see around. He seems shy and you’re not sure that he feels comfortable here considering his constant looking around the place.

You stare at him for longer than you should, taking in all of his features, wondering if already slipping him your phone number is too much since he’s just entered the door. You finish up with your customer then head over to where he’s sitting, already starting on your closing side work so you’re guaranteed to get out of there at a decent time.

“What can I get you, handsome?” You ask and as you wipe down a glass and all of the English words he’s learned for this very situation have disappeared from his head. Trying to save himself, he picks up the little menu to the left of him and points at one of the beer names he recognizes and you nod, turning your back and fetching it for him.

A guy sits to the left of him and in unison, they light up some cigarettes which you are quick to notice, whipping around and setting the beer in front of Igor before breaking the bad news.

“Sorry guys, you can’t smoke in here,” you tell them and Igor mumbles a quick “sorry” before stubbing it out onto the bar before grabbing a napkin and sweeping the ash into it and discarding it into the trash.

“Says who?” The guy asks and Igor has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He will never understand why people always want to put up a fight.

“Me,” you point to yourself then the giant “no smoking” sign above your head, that in Igor’s defense, he couldn’t read since he’s still learning to read in English. He can understand it just fine but reading and writing and speaking it are just so difficult for him no matter how hard he tries with all of the different apps.

“And all of the signs all over the place.”

“Well,” the guy’s about to speak but Igor nudges his shoulder and motions with his hands to tell him to cut it out.

“Fucking bitch,” he mutters under his breath and that’s the final straw for Igor. Before he can stop himself, he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and tosses it into the floor, stubbing it out. He then throws a hard punch directly at the guy’s nose, making you and everyone else in the place gasp.

Once he feels like the guy’s gotten the message, he grabs him by the hair and forces him to look you in the eye.

“Apologize,” he commands and the guy mutters the words “I’m sorry” to you before Igor drags him over to the door and throws him out onto the sidewalk.

He then makes his way back over to the bar and sits back down on his stool as there are scattered claps for him and his cheeks are bright red now even though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol. He hates having attention on him, but seeing the way you’re looking at him, it all seems to be worth it.

It looks like he just did that whole thing on a whim, but what most people don’t know is that this is his job. He’s so used to throwing people around for a living that even off the clock, he feels like it’s his job to dispose of the people who are causing problems even though he’s not getting paid for it.

He takes a sip from his beer and you set a plate with a burger and fries in front of him to which he looks at you with a questioning look.

“It’s on the house,” you tell him. “Along with anything else you’d like. For being my hero and all.”

“Oh-“ He wouldn’t want to take advantage of your kindness, but he just feels so lonely all the time so he’s going to take what he can get. He of course has his grandmother, but his job just makes him feel so isolated because he always only gets seen as the muscle, told what to do and when to do it and no one really makes small talk with him like they do with the others. Most days, he just feels like he only has himself.

And being from another country that doesn’t speak English doesn’t help either. He’s been learning but it’s been a struggle for him, the app he uses for his lessons being his only company most days. He’s been trying to speak with his new words, but they sound weird, heavy on his tongue like he’s trying too hard so he just doesn’t say anything. People have made fun of him multiple times because of his accent so he just doesn’t want to even try anymore.

“No one’s ever done anything like that for me before so you deserve it.” He doesn’t want to believe that but the sad look in your eyes is leading him to believe that you’re telling the truth and that breaks his heart.

“Thank you,” he nods, then takes a bite out of the burger which somehow has everything he likes on it.

“It’s y/n,” you tell him as he smiles as he continues to chew. Once he swallows, he takes a sip of his beer then sits there, trying to repeat it like you said it.

“Y/n,” he repeats and even though it sounds foreign on his tongue, he has to admit that he likes it a lot. So he says it again. “Y/n.”

“Yep, just like that. What’s your name?” You ask, leaning down on the bar and you’re surprised when he maintains eye contact, not even trying to sneak a peek at your cleavage.

“Igor,” he replies, his accent thick as he introduces himself.

“Igor,” you repeat and he hates the way he melts at hearing you say it. It sounds so much better coming from your mouth. “I like that. Where are you from?”

“Armenia,” he replies before taking a sip from his beer and you nod. You begin to wipe down glasses and he’s becoming disappointed that this might be the end of your journey together. He just likes your company. You’re easy to talk to and you don’t get onto him about being a man of a few words. You go at his pace like no one else seems to want to do and he really appreciates that.

“I’ve never been there,” you reply and that makes sense to him. It’s a country that most people don’t even think about. “But I’ve always wanted to.” His face lights up at your words and he doesn’t even care if he looks silly. It’s like you’re saying all the right things to make him feel like he finally has a friend.

“My mom is actually Armenian. Was,” You correct yourself. “She was. Sorry, she passed away last year and this is all still new to me. We were supposed to go this fall. I still have my ticket, but I’m too afraid to go by myself. Sorry,” you shake your head, suddenly realizing who you’re talking to. “This isn’t your problem.”

You’re now wiping down the counter and he’s trying his best to scarf down his meal so he can get out of your hair as he holds up his plate so you can wipe down right there. You laugh at him holding his plate under his chin as he eats but he just hates when people overstay their welcome, especially at establishments like this. He should be going to bed anyway since he’s got an early morning.

But instead of going home like he planned, he sits there at the bar, watching you close up because you insist on having the company and who is he to say no? You’re just so persuasive-not that he would need much convincing to hang out with you. Even in just the few hours that he’s spent with you, it’s like all of the screaming in his head has stopped. It’s now filled with your laugh and the jokes you’ve made throughout the night.

You’ve been scared to get close to people since your mom died and you know that you just met Igor, but there’s something about him that makes you feel safe, appreciated. Even though he doesn’t speak much, you just love that he listens and only adds input when necessary. A lot of men you’ve come across, especially when working, seem to love the sound of their own voices, so everything about Igor is refreshing to you.

The bar is clean and everyone is gone besides the two of you. You make sure that everything is good to go for whoever is opening and Igor is still there when you come from the back with your purse and jacket. He gets off his stool and holds his hands out, gesturing to your coat. He holds it open for you and you try not to let your heart melt at the sweet gesture. Once he’s got his on, he makes sure that you’re in front of you, making sure to open the door for once the two of you exit the bar. He stands close to you as you lock up, constantly looking over his shoulder because he knows that the freaks always come out at night.

Once you’re settled, you drop the keys into your purse and head down the street, Igor following closely behind, still on high alert in case he needs to take action. If he didn’t feel like he was overstepping, he would wrap his arm around you for extra protection. He wants to so badly, but he settles for walking behind you since it’s easier to block if someone tries to come from that direction.

You seem to be feeling the same way because before he can even register what’s happening, you’re grabbing his arm and wrapping your own around it like it’s something you’ve done thousands of times. Igor goes stiff at the sudden action but he doesn’t dare stop you. Something about it just feels so right having you hold onto him as you yap away.

And you don’t even seem to bat an eye that he’s walking you home even though he didn’t ask. You can defend yourself if need be with your pepper spray or stun gun, but there’s something about a man being protective of you that makes you feel special. Especially since Igor barely even knows you. In fact, he doesn't even know you at all.

But maybe you want him to. Maybe you want to invite him inside where you can share a joint and have a glass of wine while you watch something on the tv. You don’t think you can take any more than that but that actually sounds nice.

You used to spend so much time with your mom that it still feels weird doing things by yourself even though the idea of letting anyone else in is terrifying. After she passed, you cut off everyone who mattered to you unintentionally and now it feels weird even possibly letting someone else into your little bubble.

You have to remind yourself that this is just one night. You don’t have to fully let Igor in if you don’t want to and you’re sure that he would be okay with whatever you wanted. You don’t have to make any big decisions right now so you don’t know what you’re so worried about.

When you finally get out of your head and turn to him, he’s smoking a cigarette, taking a long drag before holding it out to you. You take it from him, your fingers brushing as you do so and he tries his best not to stare at your mouth as you put it between your lips. He does his best to not think about what it might be like to kiss you.

He doesn’t even know what’s going on here, but he’ll stay as long as you’re willing to keep him around. All his life, all Igor has wanted was to be wanted. He’s always a last resort, the person people hang around when the person they want isn’t available. But you picked him when there were so many men in the bar you could have gone home with. For the first time in his life, he’s feeling wanted.

You hand the cigarette back with a polite “thank you” before pulling him along as a gust of wind comes your way. And without even a second thought, he turns you to face him, puts his cigarette between his lips and zips up your jacket for you. It’s your turn to stare at his lips now, wanting to know what they’d feel like against yours. You wonder if he’d be sweet or if he’ll push you against the brick wall behind you.

“Oh,” you say, the sweet gesture catching you off guard. “Thank you, Igor.” Hearing his name fall from your lips again, laced with so much sweetness is making his heart grow even more. You’re smiling up at him as you take hold of his arm again and he doesn’t know how he’s going to leave you after walking you home. Maybe he’ll just have to come back to the bar again after tonight.

“You’re-” he says and even though you know what he’s trying to say, you don’t try to finish his sentence, letting him get there on his own. You can only imagine how hard it would be to learn English of all languages. “Welcome?” He asks and your smile widens, almost as if you’re proud of him.

“Right,” you nod as you pull him down the street. He has no idea where you’re taking him and he’s afraid that he’d follow you anywhere. Even if you were to lure him to his death, he’d still follow you because there’s something about you that’s alluring.

He follows you a few more blocks, now holding your hand as you pull him along and he feels disappointed when you stop at what he assumes is your apartment building. He’s waiting for you to let go, but you’re staring at him with that pretty smile as you swing your linked hands back and forth. God, he could do this for hours.

You’re stalling now, not wanting to go inside, contemplating inviting him to come with you, but you don’t know what the protocol is here. This has never happened to you before. You normally know exactly what’s going on when you’re spending time with a man, but you can’t get a read on Igor. You know that he’s into you, or at least likes spending time with you because he willingly walked you home from the bar, but other than that, you’re not entirely sure what’s going through his head.

He holds the door open for you, his other hand still holding yours as he does so and you nod your head towards the lobby as you head inside.

“You can come in if you want.” He nods once then follows you towards the stairs, the elevators having signs on them that say that they’re out of order. You let out a sigh and roll your eyes. They’ve been like that since you moved in three years ago.

He follows you up the stairs as you tell him all about the building which you know because you have way too much time during the day to google things like that. He’s fascinated by all of your knowledge, not bored in the slightest as he nods along even though you’re in front of him and can’t see what he’s doing.

“I know a lot of fun facts. What about you?” You ask and he wracks his brain. “Anything you find interesting?” You he wants to say but decides against it even though he wants to know everything about you. He wants to know your favorite color, what side of the bed you sleep on, how you take your coffee in the morning.

This is all so new to him. He’s never felt the way before, especially not about a stranger and it’s making him feel crazy for wanting to be close to you, to want to talk to you all night. Maybe if he plays his card right, he might get your phone number or maybe even a kiss if he’s really lucky.

“No,” he replies as you open the door to your floor, holding it open for him this time and he thanks you as he steps through it.

“What interests you?” You ask, suddenly feeling guilty for only talking about yourself but little do you know is that he doesn’t mind one bit. He thinks he’s quite boring in comparison. All he likes to do is sit with his grandmother while the two of them crochet while watching television.

“Crochet,” he replies, his cheeks heating because he knows it’s not a manly thing to do but you smile at him again and he swears he’s going to faint right there.

“I love that,” you reply as you unlock your door. “You should make me something sometime.” He knows you don’t really mean it but you have no idea that he will do whatever you fucking ask.

“I can do that,” he nods, already examining your apartment when he steps inside to see what kind of things you like. He’s too shy to actually ask, so he’s just going to do what he does best and observe.

You’re trying not to fall for him, you really are, but how can you not when he tells you that he crochets and zips up your jacket and walks you home? He’s the perfect gentleman, the kind you only read about in books and he’s here, right in front of you and for whatever reason, you’ve convinced yourself that you can’t have him.

He’s just going to be a friend. He has to be because all men do is hurt you and you really can’t have that happen again. Keeping him at arm's length just makes sense for right now.

As soon as the door is closed, he helps you take off your jacket and you hang both yours and his on the rack before turning to him.

“I really have to go to the bathroom, but please, feel free to make yourself at home.” You gesture towards the living room then disappear down the hallway, leaving Igor alone for the first time since you met him.

He can’t help but notice your apartment feels like you. It’s hard to explain but your essence is everywhere in this space. Even while you’re away in the other room, he still feels surrounded by you. It’s so full of life.

It could be all of the fucking plants that seem to be living on every space. Your bookshelves, your tables, on top of your cabinets…it seems like they’re invading every nook and cranny. He admires it, knowing how much effort and care must go into keeping them alive and thriving like you’ve done. He grew up helping his grandmother garden so he can understand how much work it can be. He smiles to himself, thinking how telling it is that you have so many things you have cared for that just surround him.

The buzzing in his head is coming back as soon as you leave and he looks around for something to distract him. He sees a package of lightbulbs on the island and when he looks up, he realizes that the buzzing isn’t in his head, but the lightbulb above the island that won’t stop blinking. He doesn’t know why it hasn’t been changed because it’s only been a few seconds and he’s already about to go crazy.

He sits on the island and takes one of the bulbs from the package and quickly switches it out with the one that’s almost out, discarding it in the trash can that’s on the side of the island just as you’re coming out of the bathroom.

You can’t help but gasp as you immediately notice that the flickering and stupid buzzing has stopped and resist the urge to throw yourself into Igor’s arms and pepper his face in kisses. You had spent months trying to get that bulb unscrewed but it just wouldn’t budge. And you’re fucking super wouldn’t send someone to fix it so you’d been stuck with that stupid light for ages.

“Oh my god, did you just change the bulb?” You ask and he steps back, afraid that he’s offended you but when you smile at him yet again, he has to let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t fuck up this time.

Before he can register what’s happening, you’re standing on your toes and pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek. It feels warm when you pull away so he’s sure that he’s blushing, turning away to make sure that you don’t see it.

“You’re cute,” you tell him as you pinch his cheek and if he didn’t think so before, now he’s really thinking that you and his grandmother would get along so well. He’s convinced that she’d love you. He’s never brought a woman home now and then she’d start asking about marriage and great grandchildren and that would definitely be far too much for you, he’s sure of it.

“Cute?” He asks with a scoff. He’s only heard that word to describe animals and small children, not grown adults. It’s weird, he has to admit, but he’ll take any compliment you’re willing to give him.

“Adorable,” you pinch his cheeks again, loving how you can make this scary looking man weak in the knees.

“I think that’s you,” he says and you can’t help but smile again. You’ve been doing that so much tonight that your cheeks hurt more than normal.

“No,” he shakes his head, leaning closer so that your faces are only inches apart. “It’s not a competition but if it was, you would win.”

“Igor,” you gasp, followed by a giggle. “Who knew you were such a flirt.”

“I should go,” he says and you pout. You now don’t know what you’re going to do without him. “I can give you my phone number.” Your face lights up as you fish your phone out of your back pocket and pass it to him. He quickly types his number in then hands it back to you before heading towards the door reluctantly as he grabs his jacket.

He really hopes you call soon because as he’s heading down the hallway and to the stairs, he already misses you. This has never happened to him before and this is why he doesn’t get attached because it just complicates everything, especially his job. But he can’t help but be aware of the magnetic pull between the two of you and for whatever reason, he doesn’t want to stop it.

You close and lock the door once he’s gone and decide that you should head to bed. As you do so, can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have him on the other side of the bed, cuddling you to his chest as his fingers run through your hair, murmuring sweet nothings to you as you fall asleep.

As you wake up to go to work a few days later, you notice that the cabinet in your bathroom that the mirror is attached to is screwed up. It’s hanging off one of the hinges, looking like it’s seconds from falling to the floor. You know your super won’t send anyone out to fix it (He never actually does his fucking job.) so you have to take matters into your own hands and figure out what the fuck to do. Part of you wants to call Igor, but you feel like you’d be bothering him and he also has a job so you don’t want to interrupt his day.

You go back and forth in your head, and you let your finger hover over his contact as you try to decide what to do. Screw it. You think to yourself. The worst thing is that he will say no. So you press the call button before you chicken out, and your heart is in your stomach as the phone rings and rings. Voicemail.

“Hey- um, it’s me. Uh, (Y/N)… we met a couple days ago at the bar, you walked me home and saved me from the horrific buzzing lightbulb in my apartment?” You chuckle nervously, you can feel yourself rambling but you can’t help it. It’s compulsive. “Listen, I hate to ask this of you, but I don’t have anyone else to ask- my super actually fucking sucks. My bathroom cabinet is like one step away from just giving out so if you’re around- I can pay you. If you don’t mind! Just let me know! No worries either way!”

He’s so thankful he’s wearing air pods. Igor would never hear the end of it if the guys in the car with him could hear him listening to the same voicemail over and over again. He can’t let himself get swept up in the giddiness he feels that you finally called. He needs to be on. No one can be intimidating if they’re blushing- especially him. He just hates that he needs to wait until after this job to call you, he hates that he can’t just drop everything he’s doing and head straight there.

It’s a few hours later when he finally calls, and you feel like your stomach does a flip when you see his name pop up. You answer maybe a little too quickly but you’re too anxious to talk to him again you can’t find it in you to care.

“Hey,” you say brightly, maybe coming off a little strong.

“Hey, sorry. I just got your message.” Lie. “I was working. I can come over now if you‘ll be home?” He asks, trying to sound nonchalant. He hates talking on the phone but he could do this with you for hours. He instantly feels calm around you, no longer feeling the stress of his job that’s always on his shoulders when he’s speaking to you.

“Yeah,” you nod, even though he can’t see you. “I’ll be home all day so just whenever.”

“I’ll be on my way in a minute.” He doesn’t tell you how fast he plans on driving fast to get to you quicker. He has to see what you need and maybe he’s just desperate to see you again since he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since the other night.

“Oh, thank you so much, Igor. I really appreciate it!” You hang up before he can say “you’re welcome” and he gets into his car to head to you.

He’s there in a flash, knocking on your door as he stands there, out of breath. You pull the door open and he stares at you, a small smile playing on his lips as he gives an awkward wave.

You’ve never had someone drop what they were doing to come meet you so you’re caught off guard by how quickly he showed up. He’s standing there with his little tool box and you’re wondering how you’re already falling for him after only seeing him twice. This never happens and now you’re wondering if fate has anything to do with it as opposed to your apartment just being shitty.

You’re going to choose to believe that it’s fate even if your apartment is that shitty. Because this is the first time since your mother passed that you’ve felt like you can trust someone. You feel safe with Igor despite having only seen him once before now. Something about it just feels so right and now you want to take a leap and dive head first into whatever this is.

“It’s straight through here,” you lead him to the bathroom and he sets his tool box down, following you to assess the situation, but as soon as you both enter the small space, the mirror gives and falls to the floor, the glass shattering into a million pieces.

Igor is quick to grab hold of you and pull you back, tucking your head into his chest with his hand while his other holds onto your waist in a protective manner. You’re both breathing heavily, still holding onto each other even after the loud crash.

This is the closest you’ve ever been and there’s just something about it that just feels right. You feel safe, protected. And this is unlike how you’ve felt with any other man.

Igor feels the same way, loving holding you in his arms. In this moment, he feels like nothing can hurt you because he’s got you. It feels so intimate and he’s not sure when the last time he held someone like this was. Something about it just feels so right and now he’s not sure he wants to let go.

You stay like that for a little longer until he finally pulls away, making sure that you’re almost before he asks where your broom is, sweeping up the mess without a word. He’s so thoughtful and you keep wondering how no one has snatched him up but you’re secretly grateful because now you have him all to yourself. Your own personal handyman.

It’s to a point where Igor is at your apartment more often than not and now you’ve given him a key to the place so he doesn’t have to knock every time. It might just be a key but it means so much more to the both of you. That this might be becoming more than just a friendship.

You’ve cuddled on your couch after he’s finished up your tasks for him more times than either of you can count. You order dinner for the both of you and you talk over your meals, laughing about things on the tv. You’re not even official yet but you both know that there’s something there. Maybe if either of you could get it together, you’d get the guts to actually ask.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound of your kitchen sink was driving you absolutely insane. It has been days, and you did your best up until now to ignore it. It was becoming unbearable. It was all you could hear and you swear it was becoming louder with every passing day. You couldn’t take it anymore.

I’m so sorry to ask another favor. My landlord will not send someone out to fix my faucet and it’s driving me crazy. Do you know what to do to fix it?

Igor couldn’t help the way he was smiling to himself when he read your text. He couldn’t help but feel practically giddy at the idea that you need his help- that you need him. It was an indescribable feeling that bubbled up and made his entire body feel overwhelmingly warm. He’d fix everything, solve all your problems- anything you asked. He liked being the one you turned to.

I can come by today

Whenever you can! Don’t worry about it- no rush.

He chuckles to himself, as if he wouldn’t drop whatever he was doing to help you when you call. He appreciates how sincere you are, not wanting to take advantage of his kindness. He wishes you’d realize how much he wants you to take advantage of him. He wants to help you, he wants to do anything to just make you happy. If fixing a leak, a light bulb, a loose hinge… if that made you smile, he’d gladly do it no questions asked. He’s at your apartment within the hour and you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are.

“Hi,” he says simply, and you can hear that he sounds a little breathless. Did he run up the stairs? You can’t help but feel a little flustered at the idea as you step aside to let him in.

“Hi,” you say back, grinning.

“I brought the stuff,” he says matter of factly, holding up his tool box.

“I really appreciate this, honestly,” you say, leading him over to the kitchen- directly to the offensively loud kitchen sink. “You’re a lifesaver.” Your praise makes his heart swell, and he does his best to look the other way so you don’t see him blush.

He takes a moment to just observe as he puts his tools down on the counter. You noticed that about him- how incredibly thoughtful he is with everything. He doesn’t ever rush- except when he threw that guy out at the bar. But even then, everything was just so concise. You don’t think you’ve ever met someone like him. You have to physically shake your head to expel the thoughts before you let yourself get so wrapped up in watching him.

“This shouldn’t be difficult,” he muses. “I have it handled, just do whatever you need to do.”

He opens the cabinet doors under your kitchen sink so he can look at the pipes, and he sees the source of the problem. You watch as he lays on his back and sticks his head into the cabinet to get a closer look at the pipes, shining a flashlight in the right spot. You don’t want to hover, or annoy him with a million questions so you decide to just follow his advice and continue on with your day.

You look down at your appearance as you walk out of the kitchen into your bedroom. You were still in the clothes you slept in and your hair was one or two days past your normal wash day. You hadn’t thought about that and now you’re a little embarrassed he’s seen you like this but you rationalize that he didn’t notice or even care.

Peeking out into the kitchen again, Igor’s head is still buried under the sink as he tinkered away so you decide you can probably sneak into the shower without him noticing. You escape back into your bedroom and peel off your clothes, tossing them haphazardly into your hamper. You pull on your robe, which is suddenly feeling so much shorter than it usually does.

You tie the belt of your robe securely around your waist and use one hand to keep the top closed snugly across your chest. You poke your head out to see if he’s still working. Thankfully, he is so you tip toe across the hallway. But of course, your apartment is ancient so the floor creaks loudly as you forget to avoid that one spot on the floor. You wince, hoping he didn’t hear it, pausing for a moment. You hold your breath, even though you aren’t sure why.

The unexpected sound makes him jump, and he curses in Russian when he hits his head on the pipe. You rush over to him as he clutches his head and kneel beside him to get a look at his wound. His skin is red when you pull his hand away, but he’s not even thinking about that. He’s distracted by your robe and what’s underneath it, scolding himself for the impure thoughts, but he can’t help it. What would happen if he just reached up and-

“Igor?” You ask and his eyes snap up to your face, hoping that you didn’t catch him staring at the top part of your robe that opened just a bit. He couldn’t see anything, but god does he want to. “I’m gonna get you some ice, okay?” You ask and he totally doesn’t get a glimpse up your robe when you stand up and head to the freezer to grab an ice pack.

“Here,” you tell him as you rest the ice pack that you’ve wrapped in a towel on to his forehead. He doesn’t even need it now but he appreciates the gesture.

“Thank you,” he says, as he moves so he can lie back onto the floor but he notices something soft underneath his head. You got him a pillow. You’re so sweet and he has no idea what he did to deserve this treatment but there’s no way he’s going to deny it. “I’m fine, really.”

“Right, because a concussed man wouldn’t feel fine enough to look up my robe.” You say it as a joke, but his cheeks are burning, his eyes widening as he realizes that he’s been caught.

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you kneel beside him again. “I don’t mind. In fact, you can look all you want.” You’re being so flirty and he can’t believe this is happening. It’s something he only thought was possible in his dreams.

You lean closer, your face only inches from his. So close that he could just lean in and-

“Can I try something?” You ask in a whisper and he nods enthusiastically. Whatever it is, he’s down. He watches you get up on your knees and in a flash, you’re sitting on his face.

You sit there for a second then panic when he doesn’t do anything, wondering if you read the situation wrong. If you completely fucked up the whole thing you had going on. You go to get off him, but in an instant, he grabs hold of your thighs and pulls you back down, causing a gasp to fall from your lips.

Just when you’re about to ask what’s going on, you feel him spread your legs, his tongue gliding over your cunt as you lean forward, pressing your hands against the hardwood because you know that your legs already feel like jello.

You let out a moan as his tongue moves down to your slit, licking and sucking before introducing his teeth, eating you out like he’s a man starved. This is exactly what the both of you needed and you can’t believe it took so long to get there.

You’re hitting your fist against the floor as he continues, not even caring if you get a noise complaint from your neighbors because it just feels so good.

His hand reaches up and unties your robe before he gently rolls you onto your back, pulling away as he pushes your robe open to get a good look at you. He mutters something in Russian that you’ve heard multiple times but you still don’t know what it means.

“Fucking beautiful,” he says, staring down at you and he prays that you can’t see how lovesick he really is. Seeing you lying there completely naked for him, that you trust him that much, it’s making him fall for you even harder.

“You think so?” You ask, your skin feeling like it’s on fire as he’s now looking like wants to eat you whole.

“Swear,” he nods before hooking your legs over his shoulders then going in again, hungrier as he continues, feeling his cock straining in his jeans as he hears you moan over and over, feeling you grabbing at his shirt, balling it in your fists just to have something to hold onto.

You’re already close, feeling an orgasm build and for once, you’re not in your head, wondering if you’re doing it right. With Igor, something just clicks and you’re able to stop yourself from overthinking. All you can think about right now is that he definitely knows that he’s doing.

His name spills out of your mouth in a breathy moan as you reach your climax, your back arching as you scratch up the part of his back that’s exposed by his bunched up shirt. He goes for one more bite before pulling away, wiping his face with his shirt.

He closes your robe and gently ties it before leaning down, his face only inches from yours. You’re sure, positive that he’s going to kiss you, but he just smiles, the one that’s only reserved for you.

“Go shower,” he says and you nod as he stands to help you up but as soon as your feet hit the floor, your knees give out and he’s quick to catch you. He picks you up and carries you to the bathroom and sets you on the toilet before turning on the water for you. He then wordlessly leaves, shutting the door behind him to go finish the pipes, both of you not able to think about anything besides what just happened.

All Igor can think about since he left your apartment the other day is you. Well, more specifically, how he should have kissed you when he had the chance. You were right there but he was scared. He doesn’t normally kiss people during sex because that’s just too intimate for him so he avoids it at all costs. But he wanted- wants to kiss you so badly that it hurts.

It’s plaguing his mind, all he’s been able to think about ever since. He just sees your lips and wonders what they’d feel like slotted between his. He just knows they’d taste like that lip balm he always sees you putting on and he desperately wishes he could rewind time and just go for it. It’s been days and he can’t escape it, and it’s driving him absolutely insane. He feels like he’s reaching a breaking point and he needs to do something about it.

Fuck it.

Before he even thinks about what he’s doing, and it’s so unlike him to not think something through, he’s knocking on the door to your apartment, silently praying that you’ll be home. He can’t stand it anymore. He’s sick of waiting, he’s sick of holding himself back-

“Igor, what-”

His lips are pressed against yours and you both feel sparks, butterflies, electricity- whatever you want to call it. He feels everything when he’s around you, and he can’t let himself deny it anymore. Your lips are just as soft as he dreamed about, and he worries he took things too far until he feels you relax into his touch and kiss him back, your lips slotting against his in perfect rhythm.

His hands cup your face, his thumb affectionately rubbing gently over your cheek as he walks you both back into the apartment. He kicks the front door shut behind him, not even caring in the least at how loud it slammed shut. Your hands rest on his chest, melting against him. You feel practically dizzy. He takes up all of your senses.

You don’t break the kiss until you're both breathless, his forehead resting against yours as you try your best to calm the beating of your heart. Your chests rise and fall in sync as you both just silently bask in the aftermath of the kiss. You can’t help the lovesick smile that spreads across your face as you open your eyes to see him smiling back at you.

“я тебя люблю.” When he musters up the courage to finally fucking say it, it feels like a weight has been lifting off his shoulders. He’s burdened him by keeping his emotions hidden for far too long. He’s done, he’s never felt more confident in anything before. This is it- you’re it. He knows it. “I love you,” he reaffirms, making it clear.

Your breath catches in the back of your throat at his confession. His statement hangs in the air for a moment as your eyes scan his. You can’t believe what you’ve heard for a moment- it all feels too good to be true. But, you let yourself believe him. You finally feel ready to fully let him in. You know you can trust your heart with him. He’s who you want, always.

“I love you too.”

You press your lips to his again, not wanting to be apart for as long as you have already. You feel like you have so much time you need to make up for and you don’t want to waste another second. With your lips never leaving his, your tongue is in his mouth as you pull him further into your apartment. He lets you drag him, happily. He’d follow you anywhere.

Guiding him into your bedroom, you gently push him down onto your bed. He’s sitting on the edge as you straddle his waist. He wraps his arms around you, his hands slipping under your shirt to rub your back and your arms wrap around his neck. You smirk against his lips when you feel his bulge underneath you. Emboldened, you grind down on it and elicit the softest moan from his lips. You’re already addicted to hearing it and you want more. You do it again, proud of yourself, for being the one who makes him feel like this.

He’s disappointed when he feels you pulling away from him, and he pouts until he sees you sinking to your knees in front of him. His eyes widen, watching you so intensely and it thrills you. You fumble with the fly of his jeans, pulling the zipper so tantalizingly slow that he thinks he might combust.

“Always take such good care of me,” you purr, and you tug on the waistband of his boxers. He helps you get them down his legs and you swear he hasn’t even blinked. “I want to show you how much I appreciate it… how much I need you.”

Oh, he’s completely and utterly fucked. He wants this so bad that it actually hurts. He can feel it straining in his jeans and he just needs some release. You’re pulling his pants down and both them and his boxers drop to his ankles.

You stare up at him with that flirty look and he’s glad he’s sitting because if he wasn’t, he’s sure that he’d need to. He presses his hands against the mattress as you spit into your hand, wrapping it around him before pumping.

He watches you, a shuddered breath falling from his lips as his eyes flutter closed. No one’s done this to him in so long and he forgot how it felt. And maybe this is because it’s you, but he’s convinced that this is the best handjob he’s ever received. The sensation is overwhelming, and he can’t help but throw his head back as he chokes back a moan.

“I wanna hear you,” you coax, running your hand up his thigh encouragingly. He nods, biting his lip as he watches you. Fuck, you’re so pretty. He’s mesmerized by every little thing you’re doing, taking it all in. He watches as he’s wetting his lips because suddenly his mouth feels too dry as you tilt your head down, licking a long stripe from the base of his cock to his tip.

He whimpers, gasping at how good it feels as you kitten lick the precum from his slit. You look at him with these doe eyes as you sink your pretty lips down on his cock and he can’t even think straight. His breathing his jagged as he brushes your hair out of your face for you, and he can’t help but just admire you. He swears he’s never felt this good.

“Fuck,” he moans, as he feels your tongue swirl around his shaft. He feels like he might pass out if you keep going like this. You’re going to make him see stars and he’ll forget his own name. “You feel so good… красивая девушка,” [“beautiful girl,”] he gasps, stroking your hair as he gazes down at you like he’s in a trance. “So close… fuck.”

He feels like all of the blood in his body is rushing to his cock as he feels that familiar coil winding inside him. He wants to ask you what to do, he doesn’t want to assume. It’s like you can sense the question before he’s able to ask, because you quicken your pace almost like you're daring him to finish. His eyes shut tightly, and his whole body shivers as he cums and you still don’t stop.

He’s struggling to catch his breath, his body practically feeling like putty in your hands as your fingers stoke his thighs comfortingly as he comes back from his orgasm. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he’s at a loss for words when you open your mouth- sticking out your tongue just enough to show him how you’re swallowing everything he gave you. Fuck.

He’s quick to cup your face in his hands, leaning down to kiss you again. With a gentle touch, he’s guiding you back up towards him as you peel your sweats and your soaks panties down your legs. You’re shocked that he still wants to keep going- guys you’ve been with before would be done by now, but not him. He’s so completely obsessed with getting you closer, keeping you closer- you both are nowhere near done. He has too much time to make up for.

As you straddle his waist, he guides you down gently on his cock and you softly moan against his ear as you feel the way he stretches you out perfectly. The atmosphere around the two of you has changed- neither of you frenzied, but ready to settle into each other. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he nuzzles into your collarbone, pressing kisses over the fabric of your shirt before pulling it off of you.

God, you make him feel so warm everywhere. His breath catches in his throat when you finally sink down on him completely and he worries perhaps that his heart stopped. He presses his forehead against yours, his large hands wrapping around your back pulling you close- your bare chest flush against his.

“You feel incredible,” he praises, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck and down your shoulder. You tentatively move your hips and his hands find your waist, holding you still and at first, it confuses you. When you realize what he’s silently asking for, you’re more than happy to oblige. You hold his shoulders, nuzzling your face into his neck and he strokes your hair.

It’s so intimate. And you feel so strange by how much that it doesn’t scare you- not anymore, not when it’s him.

It’s a few moments until you're squirming, desperate for a little friction. You start small, grinding your hips again slowly, drawing out your movements as you carefully observe his reaction. He must feel the same desperation as you do, because it’s all he needs. He groans, throwing his head back, overstimulated at the sensation. His hands slide down, holding you securely as he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss and thrusts up into you messy and desperate.

“Love you,” he pants, your breath hot and jagged in your ear. It sends shivers up your spine. “Only want you,” he promises, and he says it like a needy whine as you feel his movements getting sloppier.

Your fingers are digging into his shoulders, and you're leaving red marks all over his skin. He loves it, wanting to see all the evidence that you were everywhere. He needs the reminder when you’re not around that this was all actually real. Your nails against his skin make him shiver, and he suddenly is hyper aware that he loves the sensation. That’s not even something he’s even thought before- he’s just so attracted to every part of you that he’s infatuated with your nails for fucksake. He loves it, he loves you, he wants to spoil you if you’d just let him. He’ll pay for you to get your nails done pretty however you like if you keep using them to mark him up like this.

You’re moaning, his name falling from your lips and you look so pretty sitting on his cock that he can’t focus on anything else. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, overwhelmed entirely by how well he’s hitting that one spot so well that it’s making tears prick in the corners of your eyes. He’s feeling so close, so desperately on edge that he can’t think straight- but he still reaches up, and gently wipes them away with his thumb. It’s a touch that’s way too tender in contrast to the way he’s fucking you.

You feel yourself getting close, and you swear that you’re seeing stars as your orgasm washes over you. You cry out, burying your face in his chest because you’re feeling so sensitive. He can feel you tighten around his cock and he knows he won’t be able to last much longer. He can see that your orgasm exhausted you, so he skillfully flips you both gently so you're laying on the bed and he’s hovering over you.

“Fuck, you did so well,” he praises, continuing his pace, kissing you. He’s holding his upper body up on his hands as they rest on either side of your head. He’s gazing down at you, taking in how you look in this moment- your hair splaying out on the bedspread, your chest rising and falling as you breathe, your eyes looking up at him… it’s all too much.

He feels like all of the emotion, everything he’s feeling, all of it just begins to bubble over and he pulls out just in time before his orgasm hits him like a large wave. He finishes on your stomach and he rests his head against the crook of your neck as he takes a second to catch his breath.

Your eyes feel heavy as you both lie there for a moment, the haze taking over both of you. He kisses your cheek, pushing your hair back from your forehead. He gets up, promising he’ll be right back. You can hear the sink running, and he waits for the water to warm before he runs a cloth under the stream for you.

You can hear him puttering around, and you’re starting to wonder what he’s doing that’s taking so long. Just when you begin to wonder, he’s walking back into the room with a warm damp cloth in one hand and your reusable water bottle in the other.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, kissing your temple, and putting the water bottle in your hands. “I emptied the filter so I wanted to refill it before I forgot.”

How did you end up here? You wonder what you did to somehow deserve this treatment. He drags the cloth gently across your skin, cleaning you up carefully. He disappears again to toss it in the hamper and then rejoins you on the bed, pulling you in close to him. You rest your head on his chest, your fingertips gently tracing the tattoo on his chest aimlessly.

Not too many days after, you’re waiting outside Igor’s house- the music from your car’s speaker is making the bass vibrate as you tap your hands on the steering wheel. You sent him a text, letting him know that you’re here- cause who just walks up to the door these days? Not you. You pull down your sun visor, taking one last look at your appearance in the mirror- you were nervous. You’d never been to his house before, never met his grandmother who he spoke so highly of. It was intimidating.

Your phone vibrates, and it’s Igor calling. Your brow furrows in confusion, wondering why he’s calling you instead of meeting you at the door. You answer almost immediately.

“Hey,” you say, trying to sound more relaxed than you were. You were trying desperately to make your heart stop beating so fast with nerves as you looked over to the house. You turn off your radio. “What’s up?” You ask, trying to sound casual.

“I’m so sorry,” He apologies, and he sounds completely sincere. “I’m not home yet. It was-uh, work thing.” How does he even begin to explain all the shit he saw today? He wants to tell you in person. He wants to just see you, knowing that would be enough to make all of the stress of today melt. “I will be there soon- as soon as I can.” He can sense your hesitation over the phone.

“Please, go inside,” he urges, and you bite your lip feeling unsure. “My grandmother- my tatik is home- make yourself comfortable. She wants to meet you…”

“She wants to meet me?” you ask, a shy smile spreading across your face. He’s talked to his grandmother about me. The thought itself is absolutely dizzying, and you can’t remember a time you felt like this before.

“Of course she does,” he says, a little surprised by your question. “I told her about you- please, I won’t be long. She’s expecting you to come anyway.”

“She doesn’t speak English well,” he adds quickly. You feel anxiety rise in your chest. You worry about how this interaction will go if he’s not there to translate. You decide to not let that apprehension win, and you decide to just say fuck it and go inside.

“Okay,” you resolve, “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, you pulled your key out of the ignition and walked up the front steps. You take a deep breath before you knock not knowing what to expect. Igor spoke so highly of her, and you wanted her to like you, desperately.

You weren’t expecting to need to look down when she answered the door. Hunched and slow moving, she opens the door with a smile on her face. In her house and fuzzy slippers, she didn’t seem at all bothered to greet company in her pajamas. She ushered you inside before you got a chance to introduce yourself. You slide off your shoes and leave them in the front entry, and she nods approvingly.

“I’m (y/n),” you introduce yourself and offer to shake her hand. She extends her fragile hand out to you and you smile, gently shaking her hand. “Igor told me he’d be late…”

“Always late,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. You can’t help but giggle at her disdain for his tardiness. “Come- help me,” she says, hurrying you into the kitchen. “Need young arms.”

Before you even realize what you’ve gotten into- you are elbows deep in kneading dough with your forehead covered with flour. She watches your technique over your shoulder and nods approvingly, appreciating your effort since she doesn’t have the strength to do it anymore.

Igor can’t help the way his heart swells, hearing the laughter of the two of you from the entryway as he gets home. His grandmother sees him first, walking over and swatting him on the arm.

“Почему вы не привезли ее раньше?” [“Why didn’t you bring her over sooner?”] She asks, and she sounds angry. You tilt your head confused, worried you did something. Igor offers you a gentle smile, melting at the sight of how quickly you’ve seemed to settle into his world. He sends you a reassuring look, and he watches the anxiety melt away as you continue what you’re doing. “Пришло время привести домой хорошую девочку,” [“It’s about time you brought home a good girl.”]

“Она великолепна. Не правда ли?” [“She’s great, isn’t she?”] He replies, blush forming on his cheeks. “не смущай меня” [“Don’t embarrass me.”]

She waves him off, walking back over to my side and she pats me on the shoulder for a job well done. “Thank you,” she says sincerely.

Spending time with Igor’s grandmother in a way, made you feel more connected to your mother again in ways that you didn’t fully expect. You find yourself back in the midst of your mother’s culture, and it’s almost like you can feel her presence again. It feels like family, and it terrifies you and excites you all at the same time.

You want to hold on to the feeling so tightly and never let go. You were so afraid of getting hurt again but if you find yourself longing for more days like this as the three of you sit around his grandmother’s dining room table. It feels so normal that you could cry. It’s stable, and it feels safe. For the first time you let yourself relax into your feelings and you can’t help but smile as Igor’s grandmother forces you to take thirds, which you know better to decline.

After dinner, he walks you to the door and you have three tupperware containers of food in your arms his grandmother insisted on giving you to take home. He rests his hand on your back as he walks you out, guiding you gently out onto the porch so you can have a few minutes alone.

“I think she likes me,” you smile, triumphantly and he can’t help but nod in agreement.

“Mhm,” he murmurs, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips.

“I wanted to ask you..” you trail off, suddenly a little shy under his gaze.

“Yes?” He asks patiently. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The sweet gesture makes you shiver.

“I have that trip… the one I was supposed to go on with my mom…” You begin, not sure how to ask him. You second guess yourself, wondering if this is all happening way too soon. You take a steadying breath. “Would you ever consider coming with me?”

“Of course,” he promises, smiling widely. He chuckles, and it relieves all of the anxiety that built up while you sat on this question for weeks. “There are so many places I’d love to show you.”

#anora #igor anora #igor anora x reader #igor x you #igor x reader #igor x fem!reader #the bald guy from anora

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english-cafe · 8 months ago

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Why Choose an IELTS Coaching Centre in Calicut

Preparing for the IELTS (International English Language Testing System) exam can be a challenging journey for those aiming to study, work, or migrate abroad. While self-study is an option, many aspirants choose to enroll in an IELTS coaching centre for guidance and support. In Calicut, the demand for IELTS preparation is high, with numerous coaching centres offering professional training. This article will explore the reasons why choosing an IELTS Coaching Centre In Calicut can be a wise decision for test-takers.

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Preparing for the IELTS exam requires a disciplined and systematic study approach. Coaching centres provide a structured learning environment where lessons are tailored to cover all aspects of the exam. Each section is broken down into manageable modules, helping students focus on specific areas for improvement. A well-organized study plan not only reduces stress but also maximizes the use of available study time. In an IELTS Coaching Centre in Calicut, students can expect a step-by-step curriculum designed to enhance their chances of success.

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Mock tests play a crucial role in IELTS preparation, as they give candidates a realistic experience of the exam environment. Many IELTS Coaching Centres in Calicut regularly conduct mock tests that simulate the actual IELTS exam, allowing students to gauge their performance. These tests help identify strengths and areas that need improvement. Moreover, trainers provide detailed evaluations of mock test results, offering constructive feedback that helps students focus on weak areas and improve their overall performance.

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Every IELTS candidate has different strengths and weaknesses. An IELTS Coaching Centre in Calicut recognizes this and often offers customized study plans tailored to each student's unique needs. For instance, a student who struggles with speaking but excels in reading may receive additional speaking practice to build confidence in that area. Personalized attention and a customized study plan ensure that students receive targeted training that caters to their individual learning styles and requirements.

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The speaking and writing sections of the IELTS exam are often considered the most challenging by candidates. An IELTS Coaching Centre in Calicut provides ample opportunities for focused practice in these areas. Instructors offer speaking sessions where students engage in mock interviews, enhancing their fluency and confidence in real-life conversations. Similarly, writing practice sessions allow students to receive feedback on grammar, coherence, and vocabulary usage, helping them improve their writing skills for both the Academic and General Training modules of the exam.

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Time management is crucial when taking the IELTS exam, as each section is timed. Coaching centres in Calicut help students develop effective time management strategies to ensure that they complete each section within the allotted time. Trainers teach students techniques for answering questions efficiently, such as skimming and scanning for reading comprehension or structuring essays for the writing section. Learning these strategies in an IELTS Coaching Centre in Calicut can significantly improve a student's chances of achieving their desired score.

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Studying in a group setting allows students to interact with peers who share similar goals. At an IELTS Coaching Centre in Calicut, candidates can participate in group discussions, share insights, and learn from each other's experiences. This peer interaction not only enhances learning but also creates a supportive environment that encourages collaboration and motivation. Group study sessions, debate activities, and role-play exercises are often part of the curriculum, fostering communication skills in a real-world context.

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The pressure to perform well in the IELTS exam can be overwhelming. Enrolling in an IELTS Coaching Centre in Calicut provides students with a support system that reduces exam-related stress. Regular practice, expert guidance, and familiarity with the test format help boost confidence, making candidates feel more prepared for the big day. Additionally, knowing that they have access to all the necessary resources and support helps students focus better and approach the exam with a positive mindset.

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Conclusion

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#IELTS Coaching Centre In Calicut #Learn English Online #English Speaking Course For Beginners #Best English Learning App

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linaslore · 5 days ago

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h.s. | skinny dipping

a/n: i wrote this in two or three days after being stuck in a writer's block for some time and i have to admit, i'm pretty proud of it. it's a combination of different songs and bits and pieces of personal experiences as well. i hope you enjoy it!

warnings: some angst, language, slight mentions of bullying and parents' divorce. some details might be innacurate. english is not my first language. credits to the pics owners.

summary: harry and you used to be best friends when you were teenagers, but then you had a fight, which resulted in you drifting apart... until, years later, you bump into each other at a coffee shop. is it all water under the bridge now?

harry styles x f!reader.

🚫do NOT copy, translate or put my work thru an AI.

Moving was hard enough, but moving to another country? That was a whole new level. Understatement of the century, I know.

You had moved to Madrid a couple of months ago to continue your studies in Literature and you were very happy with that decision. Why wouldn’t you be? It involved new people, learning and trying to communicate in a language that wasn’t yours, new food, new music… But this week… this week was tougher than others because it was tainted with homesickness – you missed your home in England. You missed your parents, your dogs, your best friends, you even missed your little brother, who got on your nerves most of the time, but you still loved him with all your heart, of course. Even though you had work and your studies to keep your mind busy, there was still a dark cloud above your head filled with nostalgia, loneliness, and sadness that followed you around.

On Saturday morning, you woke up at 9 a.m., with faint sun rays peeking through your curtains, and, right there, you decided you didn’t want to be all mopey anymore.

You grabbed your phone, opened the trains app and checked what it offered. You opted for buying tickets to a town called Chinchón – it was only one-hour away from Madrid and from the photos you saw on the Internet, it looked picturesque. Going on a one-day trip to a beautiful town, wandering through its streets full of history and interesting architecture, eating good food and getting some vitamin D was exactly what you needed to remedy your aching heart.

After having a shower, you got dressed in your usual comfortable outfit: a pair of black denim trousers, a white t-shirt and your favorite baby blue jumper. Trainers were a must on this occasion so you put on your black pair of Adidas. You went easy on the make up: a lick of mascara and a touch of pink glossy lip balm. You went for a classic braid and took out some strings of hair in the front to accentuate your face.

Then, you proceeded to gather everything you might need for the day ahead: your purse, water bottle, some snacks for the train ride, your headphones, your sunglasses, the book you were currently reading, your journal, and some pens.

Once you were all set, you stepped out of your house and went to the train station. You had a feeling today was going to be interesting.

And little did you know…

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The train ride to Chinchón was smooth and uneventful. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the tracks provided a soothing background melody as you flipped through the pages of your book. As the train pulled into the station, you gathered your belongings and stepped out into the crisp air, greeted by the charming sight of Chinchón's rustic streets.

You wandered through the cobbled lanes, taking in the town's quaint beauty. You visited Plaza Mayor and the Torre del Reloj. As it was only 11.15 a.m.; the streets weren’t packed with people, but there still were some early risers who were enjoying the peacefulness of those surroundings.

Continuing your exploration, you found yourself drawn to a more commercial part of the town, where the smell of freshly baked bread and coffee teased your stomach and reminded you that you hadn't had a proper breakfast.

You entered this charming café called Loki, which had a husky dog on its logo and you got closer to the counter to place your order: un flat white y un rol de canela, por favor (a flat white and a cinnamon roll, please). You had learned to say that phrase in Spanish as if your life depended on it. Then, you sat on a small table near the window, so you could do some people-watching.

Once you got your drink and food, you took the warm mug with both hands and, sipping some coffee, you enjoyed the coziness it brought you. You savoured the first bites of the cinnamon roll as you watched the world go by from that spot by the window. The streets began to stir. A cheerful vendor moving around with a cart of vibrant flowers; two women chatting animatedly; a small group of children hurried along, and their parents following them around. You smiled to yourself at the simplicity of these everyday scenes.

When you were done with your breakfast, you put on your headphones to listen to some instrumental music and grabbed your journal to write whatever came to your mind. It was an activity that usually helped you organize your thoughts and make sense out of your emotions. And you have had your fair share of those recently.

You were so caught up in your journaling that you failed to notice how crowded the coffee shop had gotten in the last minutes. You removed the headphones from your ears and let some of the people’s talks and whispers get to you.

“¿Latte con leche de avena y un croissant de almendras para Harry?”, you hear one of the baristas call rather loudly. Your body stiffened and your heart skipped a few beats.

There ought to be more than one person in the world that asks for an oat milk latte and an almond croissant and also named Harry. It can't be him, right? That would be far too much of a coincidence...

The music on your headphones stopped when you pressed the pause button on your phone screen. You slightly turned your head to scan the café without seeming too obvious. You take in the sound of the coffee machine hissing, the clinking of the ceramic cups, the bits and pieces of strangers’ conversations, but your mind was focused on finding out if this Harry was the one you were thinking about.

Then, the air got stuck on your throat when you finally spotted him. Well, not exactly him, his back. However, you had no doubts it was him – you could recognize his tall and built frame anywhere, from any angle.

Putting your headphones on again, you pretended to be writing in your journal while you debated with yourself internally what you should do. You did know each other, but it’s been over a decade since the last time you saw him, a bit less since you last talked. You had heard some stuff about him on the news and you did follow each other on Instagram, but that was it. You were practically strangers, acquaintances if you were being a bit generous.

Should I approach him and say hello? Maybe I should keep my eyes glued to my journal, sip my coffee and pretend I have never seen him, or should I…?

“Y/N? Is that really you?”, a smooth yet husky voice interrupted your internal monologue – and so your body’s ability to perform basic functions such as breathing.

You looked up and your eyes met his green ones. After all these years, he was standing there in front of you in a coffee shop in a random town. He had a wide smile on his face, like he was genuinely happy to see you. You couldn’t help but mirror the warmth in his expression as you rose from your seat to hug him.

“Hi, Harry”, you whispered into his ear once you were wrapped around his arms. You tried not to think much of how soothing that felt.

“It’s so good to see you”, he rubbed your softly back before stepping away. He hesitated for a moment, then gestured toward the empty seat opposite yours. “Do you mind if I…”

You shook your head before he could finish his question, inviting him to join you. He happily obliged, and after taking a sip of his coffee, his gaze wandered back to you. His eyes softened, scanning your face.

“You have grown up, have you?”, he questioned teasingly, raising his eyebrows once or twice.

You felt how all the blood in your body suddenly rushed to your cheeks.

“Oh, you’re one to talk…”

He let out a laugh and took a bite from his beloved croissant. It was your turn to look at him. He looked different, yet the same. His signature curly hair wasn’t as long as it used to be, but some curls were slowly growing again. His boyish features were replaced with more mature, refined ones, and he now had a neatly-clipped beard and moustache. Despite all these changes, the face saw (and loved) every day for most of your teenage years was still there.

“Of all the places in the world, after all these years, I find you here. Isn’t that amazing?” he pointed out, giving you a half-smile but his voice carried a hint of disbelief mixed with nostalgia.

“Yeah, what is THE Harry Styles doing in Chinchón anyway?”, you lowered your voice when mentioning his name. He was wearing a cap and sunglasses inside the café. Those were proof enough he didn’t want any public attention.

“I’m here to film a new music video. We start shooting in a couple of hours, but I wanted to enjoy the town before that, so I woke up earlier and started wandering around”, he made a pause to sip his coffee. “I don’t get much holidays these days, so I have to make the most out of these situations", hs mouth tightened into a thin line. "And what about you, THE Y/N Y/L/N?”, he inquired, mocking your teasing tone.

“I don’t have many holidays either. I’m doing a graduate degree and working a minimum-wage administrative job, so I just came here for the day", you shrugged. "I needed a break from my routine… And missing home was making it worse.” He shot you a questioning look, not fully understanding what you meant by that last part. “I’m currently living in Madrid. I haven’t been to Cheshire since the winter holidays”, you clarified, and he nodded, impressed but not surprised. You always had this love for constantly learning new things.

The irony of all this situation was certainly not missed by you. The day you decide to do a trip to take your mind off your hometown, the universe sends you a breathing reminder of your old life. You could have laughed out loud.

He seemed to have read your mind because he said: “Like Alanis Morrissette said, ‘life has a funny way of sneaking up on you’”.

You nodded while smiling at the quote he casually came up with. Memories of the younger versions of Harry and you listening to Jagged Little Pill in his old bedroom back in Holmes Chapel flooded your mind. You could almost see and feel the band posters on the walls and the faint scent of old books mixed with Harry’s go-to cologne. You hadn’t realized until now how deeply that particular combination was embedded in your head still to this day.

The conversation then drifted towards small talk about your families, your careers and other things in between. It goes without saying that Harry won the contest for wildest updates from someone you hadn't seen in a while. Being one of the biggest musicians on the planet did the trick.

“I'm sorry, love, but I have to get going”, he said, checking the time on his phone. “I'm never going to hear the end of it if I show up late for shooting", you both laughed. "Anyways, it was great to see you”.

You nodded, agreeing with him out loud, but a voice inside your head protested, slightly disappointed he couldn’t stay.

“Why don’t you give me your number?”, he continued, his tone sweet yet insistent. “So we can meet again. On purpose this time”.

“I’d love to."

That came out quicker than you even realized. You ripped a piece of paper from your journal and wrote your phone number. As you handed it to him, your fingers brushed briefly, sparking a subtle tingle. He glanced down at the paper, gave you a smile that reached his eyes, and tucked it carefully into his trousers pocket.

Then he looked up and said, “Next time, I promise I'll be all yours.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

One random Wednesday night, you were halfway through studying for your exams when the screen of your phone lit up, indicating you had received a notification. It was a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: I’ve been trying to figure out how to start this conversation in a witty, non-awkward manner, but it turns out I’m terrible. So I will play it safe: Hey, it’s Harry.

The so-called butterflies appeared on your stomach, and a foreign feeling of relief rushed through you. You forgot to ask for his number that day back in Chinchón, so you had no other choice but to hope he’d reach out. You started typing an answer shortly after saving his contact.

You: I agree, not one of your strongest suits, but it’s ok. Hi, H.

Harry: It’s been a long time since anyone has called me that.

You: Well, you practically forced me to do it. According to teenage Harry, it was “waaayyy cooler and mysterious”🙄

Harry: Teenage Harry had a lot of questionable ideas. I guess “H” was not that bad, was it?

You: It had its charm, yes. But if I’m being honest, at the time I only agreed to do it just to humour me.

Harry: I’m going to pretend you’ve never said that last thing 😔

You: By all means. Denial has always been your thing.

Harry: Ouch, don’t get all sassy on me, Y/N. Or I might start calling you “pumpkin” again 👀.

You let out a laugh. He gave you that nickname after an incident with a spray tan. You actually cringed at the memory of how orange your skin looked. That scene on Friends with Ross’ tan was nothing compared to you. And of course, Harry being Harry hadn’t spared you one second.

You: And here I thought I was meeting a more mature version of yourself.

Harry: That’s wishful thinking, love. Now that I think about it, I didn’t get to call you “pumpkin” enough. It was quickly replaced by “dottie”.

You audibly groaned, feeling the weight of Harry's teasing. You could practically sense his wide grin shining through his texts.

You: Oh, bloody hell. When are you letting that go?🙄

Harry: Never ever 😈 The image of you arriving at school wearing that polka-dot dress with the matching polka-dot leggins is forever embedded into my brain.

You: It’s not my fault the 2000s had questionable fashion trends.

Harry: Can’t argue with that, dottie 🤷‍♂️

You rolled your eyes, but in reality, you were enjoying this conversation a bit too much. You were about to type your response when the three bubbles appeared again, so you waited for Harry to finish sending his following text.

Harry: For the record, I missed you. Being able to talk and tease each other like this. Feels like no time has passed.

You: Aw, look at you, all older and more sentimental 🥹

Harry: Oh, come on. Can’t a guy show his emotions without being roasted? 😠

You: Ugh, fine. For the record, I missed you too. But don’t let it go to your head.

Harry: Too late, pumpkin 😏

Ever since that night, Harry and you talked nearly every day — you texted, you talked on the phone and on some occasions, you even facedtimed. He was spending most of his days in the US, working on his new music. Meanwhile, you were buried in your books, studying for the upcoming finals, while balancing it with your assistant job. Despite the distance between the two of you, your conversations flowed effortlessly.

Reconnecting with Harry was hands down one of the best things that happened that year; however, you couldn’t deny it also reopened some old wounds from one of the most painful chapters of your life: the moment you fell out of touch. It may sound dramatic, exaggerated, but it hurt you so much more than any other break-up you have had, even to this day.

You had been attached at the hip since you were little kids, living nearby in a small town, and all. Although you had other friends, he was your person, and you were his. He was your partner in crime in childhood adventures, and as you got older, your friendship developed into an unspoken understanding that no one else could match. He became your safe haven during the rocky waters of adolescence, always taking care of you, like that time he defended you from some bullies who had decided to pick a bone with you.

And as you can imagine, the feeling of taking care of the other went both ways. You stood by his side when he was dealing with his parents divorce and even though you were just a little girl, you understood your best friend needed you and that he didn’t deserve to feel sad, so you invited him to your house every day to play with him or watch your favorite cartoons.

You also had always encouraged Harry to follow his dreams, especially when it came to music. You didn’t like to brag, but you’d recognized his talent long before anyone else did, whether it was from hearing him sing along to the radio or humming melodies he’d made up in the moment.

You had always admired him. You could never deny that the lines of your friendship were a bit blurred sometimes. Spending all this time together, sharing experiences, secrets, and interests, as well as seeing how beautiful he was (inside out) made you develop a crush on him. The fact that he was also your first kiss sealed the deal. It happened at a school party where your classmates suggested you play spin-the-bottle.

However, that was not it. You both were always very keen on physical displays of affection, so hugging, cuddling and holding hands in the most random situations were not foreign to you. So, how could anyone blame you for falling for him?

And deep down, you had a feeling he had felt the same, but neither of you had acted on it because your friendship had always come first.

But then, The X-Factor came into the picture, and everything went south. You obviously supported him through every step of the way, in each and every audition, and you were the first one to find out the life-altering news: he was officially in One Direction.

Your mind later takes you to the memory of a quiet afternoon while you were lying on his bedroom floor, side by side, just hanging out, when he commented he was leaving for a tour through the UK and Ireland and that it also had prospects of expanding to the US and other parts of the world. You were on cloud nine for him; it was what he had always wanted.

Then he dropped the real bomb though — you still remember his exact words:

“Why don’t you come with me, Y/N?”, he asked shyly, in a whisper. “I don’t think I can stand being away from you for that long.” His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, a clear sign of his nervousness.

For a moment, you felt as if your heart would actually explode. You were thrilled to hear he would miss you so much that he wished you could accompany him. But then, reality sank in and you realized you actually couldn’t drop out of high school; your parents wouldn’t allow that. And besides, you had some dreams of your own that required you to stay there in England. You wanted to study for a university degree. You wanted to buy a house in Holmes Chapel.

“Harry… I can’t go with you. My life is here, in Holmes Chapel. I can’t drop out of school for you. My parents won’t let me…”, you turned around to face him. “And besides, I want to stay here… I have some dreams of my own, you know.”

“I thought you would be by my side, no matter what”, he frowned, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, as if it would offer him any kind of consolation.

“That’s not fair, Harry. Being a musician has always been your dream, not mine. I want to stay here and go to college to study Literature.” You could feel anger boiling up inside of you. How could he just give you that low punch, after everything you’ve been through? “Just because I have different ambitions than you doesn’t mean I support you less or that I’m not happy for you.”

The way he just stayed there, without moving an inch to see eye to eye, either literally or figuratively, made you angrier. You got up from the floor, with your whole body trembling. You realized you didn’t want to talk or see him for now, so without saying anything else, you stormed out of his room and he did nothing to stop you. His sudden indifference hurt you far more than any other accusations could.

The days that followed your argument were filled with a heavy atmosphere. You talked to each other at school, but nothing more than what was necessary and you didn’t hang out much; only when other friends were present. You hated how forced everything felt. And it hurt like a shot to the heart. And worst of all was that the solution was pretty simple: talk to him to make him understand it wasn’t him, it was you, as cliché as it sounded, and that you wished him the best, and that’s it. But even from an early age, you both have had strong egos, so you wouldn’t talk to him unless he approached you, mainly because you felt he was the one who should start the conversation with an apology for the way he acted.

And then, just like that, the day he was was leaving finally arrived. Your mom casually met Anne in the supermarket that morning. She went there to buy some last-minute stuff that Harry needed, and she mentioned he was leaving that afternoon.

So, when your mum told you the news, you decided to swallow your pride and go to his house. You found him loading his bags in the car. You called his name, and he turned with a strange expression on his face, as if he was being caught doing something he shouldn't.

He was going to leave without saying goodbye? Without stopping by your house to see you one last time? The hurt on your face was not missed by Harry when the realization came down on you.

Despite all that, you forced a smile.

“I guess this is it…” You wanted to say so much. You wanted to tell him you were sorry for the fight, that you’d always support him, that you hoped this was the beginning of something amazing for him. But all you managed was, “Well, good luck, H.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You could see something flicker through his eyes, and he got closer to you, opening his arms, inviting you into a hug. You swallowed your tears and obliged. “I’m going to miss you”, he finally admitted in a whisper.

“Me too.” You took advantage of the moment to slide a small piece of paper into the pocket of his jacket.

“Harry, are you ready?”, Anne appeared at the front door, with her own bag and the car keys in her hands.

“Yeah, all set.”, he pulled away from your arms and gave you a half smile.

Anne greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and got into the driver’s seat. Harry looked at you one last time and got into the passenger seat, not before letting out a sigh.

You can imagine how the rest played out. Watching Harry leave was hard enough… accepting he was gone, though? That was a whole different story. The physical absence wasn't the main problem; the worst part was the void he left in your daily life. Those moments where you’d spend time together, laugh together, share unspoken glances, or even argue about the silliest things had become glaring gaps in your world. It felt like living in a house where someone had removed a wall, and suddenly, all the rooms were exposed and fragile. And despite all your efforts, trying to replicate that connection with other people didn't feel right – it felt impossible.

But the pain wasn't just about missing him. It was the blandness of your goodbye.

You regretted leaving things as tense as you did; that silly teenage argument was the cause of the dilution of your beautiful friendship. After that day, you talked a few times here and there, but nothing had ever felt the same. The timezone differences and the different life rhythms you had were also other factors. So, the texts and the calls became fewer and farther between and felt more awkward each time, until eventually, they faded entirely.

Your phone vibrating with a call brought you back from the trip down memory lane. You couldn’t help but smile at the contact name appearing on the screen.

“Hi, H.”, you answered with a warmth in your voice that you even surprised yourself.

“Hey, pumpkin. How are you doing?”

“Can’t complain, honestly. You?”

“I can complain…”, he paused dramatically and then shot back. “And actually, I will.”

“Do tell. What’s troubling your poor soul?”

Despite the fact that you couldn't see him, he rolled his eyes at your teasing, but then a smile quickly formed on his face.

“I have to go back home next weekend for my cousin’s wedding.”

Your laugh came out without any warning, and you unconsciously covered your mouth with one of your hands. To Harry, it was one of the most beautiful sounds he had heard in a while.

“Oh, who has suffered more? Jesus or Harry Styles?”

“Spare me, pumpkin. That’s not the real issue though. The thing is…”, he cleared his throat, his tone became more casual… maybe too casual, as if he was about to recite something he had been rehearsing. “You have always been better at picking formal outfits than me, so I was thinking… why don’t you come with me and help me not to embarrass myself in front of my whole family?”

“H, are you serious? You have an entire team of highly qualified people whose bread and butter is to keep you from looking like a mess.”

“That is true… but what's also true is…”, he sighed defeatedly. “I want you to go with me. You know I love my family but they can be a lot sometimes. And my mum and Gemma also want to see you. And I remember you mentioned missing your family too, so... We can even go to the Yellow Broom for burgers and fries for old times’ sake, but please, come with me."

The weight of his words came down on you all of a sudden. Harry was practically begging you to go with him; the prospects of seeing Anne and Gemma, whom you loved; and your parents as well; the thought of burgers and fries from your favourite place ever. You bit your lip, your heart rate picking up, buzzing with this new information. But then, the insecurities striked back.

“I don’t know, Harry”, you said softly, tracing the edges of your phone with your fingers. You wanted to accept his offer, but all these harbored feelings and unresolved matters were a ticking bomb. “We’re not who we used to be.” If it weren’t for your serious tone, he would have laughed at your choice of words. “What if things don’t feel the same anymore?”, you questioned him, defeat hit your voice as well. You truly enjoyed reconnecting with him, but you couldn’t avoid not bringing up the past, not anymore. It was your elephant in the room.

“I know were not the same, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, right?”

There was a silence on your end of the line, so Harry took the chance to continue expressing his point of view.

“Look. I had been mentally kicking myself in the groin every single day at how I handled things that afternoon. If I could go back in time, I’d do it completely differently, believe me, but I can’t. I was just a kid going through a lot of stress, and I messed up, and I hated how we drifted away from each other. And I tried to reach out again, but I didn’t know how, and everything came out forced and weird, and I was also afraid you’d hate me, so I ended up doing nothing.” He paused to gather some air and then continued with his confession. “But the other day, when I saw you in Chinchón, something inside my brain clicked. Call it whatever you want, God, the universe, fate, a mere coincidence, but it reopened some doors I was forced to close. All our memories came rushing back, and while I was shooting my music video, all I could think about was you and how much I’d missed you.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you square in the chest. Part of you wanted to let go of all the doubts and fall back into the familiarity and warmth of Harry’s presence. But the other was trembling with fear at the possibility of feeling abandoned again.

“I know it’s maybe too much to ask, but if you do decide to accompany me, we’d have the chance to figure out who we are and what we can be now.”

You stood there, holding onto your phone, letting Harry’s words sink in. You closed your eyes in an attempt to suppress the tears that were threatening to spill. However, these weren’t sad tears; these tears were filled with relief, with joy. The road not taken looked really good now.

“H… Ok. I’ll go with you.”

☀︎ the end!!!!! at first I thought of writing it as a one shot, but I got so excited to share this with you, that I decided to split it into two parts. i hope you enjoyed it. i had so much fun writing it. and of course, as always, i'd love to read your thoughts 💗

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #sabrina carpenter #emails i can't send #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #fanfic writing #one direction #x reader insert #x you #x reader #x y/n

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practeseo · 8 months ago

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#Best App to Learn English Speaking Fluently #English chatting practice #English public speaking

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months ago

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How to have cancer

THIS WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

I've got cancer but it's probably (almost certainly, really) okay. Within a very short period I will no longer have cancer (at least for now). This is the best kind of cancer to have – the kind that is caught early and treated easily – but I've learned a few things on the way that I want to share with you.

Last spring, my wife put her arm around my waist and said, "Hey, what's this on your rib?" She's a lot more observant than I am, and honestly, when was the last time you palpated your back over your left floating rib? Sure enough, there was a lump there, a kind of squishy, fatty raised thing, half a centimeter wide and about four centimeters long.

I'm a 53 year old man with a family history of cancer. My father was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer at 55. So I called my doctor and asked for an appointment to have the lump checked over.

I'm signed up with Southern California Kaiser Permanente, which is as close as you come to the Canadian medicare system I grew up under and the NHS system I lived under for more than a decade. Broadly speaking, I really like KP. Its app – while terrible – isn't as terrible as the other apps, and they've taken very good care of me for both routine things like vaccinations and checkups, and serious stuff, like a double hip replacement.

Around the time of The Lump, I'd been assigned a new primary care physician – my old one retired – and so this was my first appointment with her. I used the KP app to book it, and I was offered appointments six weeks in the future. My new doc was busy! I booked the first slot.

This was my first mistake. I didn't need to wait to see my PCP to get my lump checked over. There was really only two things that my doc was gonna do, either prod it and say, "This is an extremely common whatchamacallit and you don't need to worry" or "You should go get this scanned by a radiologist." I didn't need a specific doctor to do this. I could have ridden my bike down to the KP-affiliated Urgent Care at our local Target store and gotten an immediate referral to radiology.

Six weeks go by, and my doc kind of rolls the weird lump between her fingers and says, "You'd better go see a radiologist." I called the Kaiser appointment line and booked it that day, and a couple weeks later I had a scan.

The next day, the app notified me that radiology report was available in my electronic heath record. It's mostly technical jargon ("Echogenic areas within mass suggest fatty component but atypical for a lipoma") but certain phrases leapt out at me: "malignant masses cannot be excluded. Follow up advised."

That I understood. I immediately left my doctor a note saying that I needed a biopsy referral and set back to wait. Two days went by. I left her a voice message. Another two days went by. I sent another email. Nothing, then a weekend, then more nothing.

I called Kaiser and asked to be switched to another Primary Care Physician. It was a totally painless and quick procedure and within an hour my new doc's intake staff had reviewed my chart, called me up, and referred me for a biopsy.

This was my second mistake. When my doctor didn't get back to me within a day, I should have called up KP and raised hell, demanding an immediate surgical referral.

What I did do was call Kaiser Member Services and file a grievance. I made it very clear that when I visited my doctor, I had been very happy with the care I received, but that she and her staff were clearly totally overloaded and needed some kind of administrative intervention so that their patients didn't end up in limbo.

This is a privilege. I'm a native English speaker, and although I was worried about a serious illness, I didn't have any serious symptoms. I had the ability and the stamina to force action in the system, and my doing so meant that other patients, not so well situated as I was, would not be stuck where I had been, with fewer resources to get un-stuck.

The surgeon who did the biopsy was great. He removed my mass. It was a gross lump of yellowy-red gunk in formaldehyde. He even let me photograph it before it went to pathology (warning, gross):

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/54038418981/

They told me that the pathology would take 2-5 days. I reloaded the "test results" tab in the KP website religiously after 48 hours. Nothing was updated. After five days, I called the surgical department (I had been given a direct number to reach them in case of postsurgical infections, and made a careful note of it).

It turned out that the pathology report had been in hand for three days at that point, but it was "preliminary" pending some DNA testing. Still, it was enough that the surgeon referred me to an oncologist.

This was my third mistake: I should have called after 48 hours and asked whether the pathology report was in hand, and if not, whether they could check with pathology. However, I did something very right this time: I got a phone number to reach the specialist directly, rather than going through the Kaiser main number.

My oncologist appointment was very reassuring. The oncologist explained the kind of cancer I had ("follicular lymphoma"), the initial prognosis (very positive, though it was weird that it manifested on my rib, so far from a lymph node) and what needed to happen next (a CT/PET scan). He also walked me through the best, worst and medium-cases for treatment, based on different scan outcomes. This was really good, as it helped me think through how I would manage upcoming events – book tours, a book deadline, work travel, our family Christmas vacation plans – based on these possibilities.

The oncologist gave me a number for Kaiser Nuclear Medicine. I called them from the parking lot before leaving the Kaiser hospital and left a message for the scheduler to call me back. Then I drove home.

This was my fourth mistake. The Kaiser hospital in LA is the main hub for Kaiser Southern California, and the Nuclear Medicine department was right there. I could have walked over and made an appointment in person.

Instead, I left messages daily for the next five days, waited a weekend, then called up my oncologist's staff and asked them to intervene. I also called Kaiser Member Services and filed an "urgent grievance" (just what it sounds like) and followed up by filing a complaint with the California Patient Advocate:

https://www.dmhc.ca.gov/

In both the complaint and the grievance, I made sure to note that the outgoing message at Nuclear Medicine scheduling was giving out false information (it said, "Sorry, all lines are busy," even at 2am!). Again, I was really careful to say that the action I was hoping for was both a prompt appointment for me (my oncologist had been very insistent upon this) but also that this was a very broken system that would be letting down every patient, not me, and it should be fixed.

Within a couple hours, I had a call back from KP grievances department, and an hour after that, I had an appointment for my scan. Unfortunately, that was three weeks away (so much for my oncologist's "immediate" order).

I had the scan last week, on Hallowe'en. It was really cool. The gadget was awesome, and the rad-techs were really experienced and glad to geek out with me about the way the scanner and the radioactive glucose they infused in me interacted. They even let me take pictures of the scan visualizations:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/54108481109/

The radiology report was incredibly efficient. Within a matter of hours, I was poring over it. I had an appointment to see the doc on November 5, but I had been reading up on the scans and I was pretty sure the news was good ("No enlarged or FDG avid lymph nodes are noted within the neck, chest, abdomen, or pelvis. No findings of FDG avid splenic or bone marrow involvement").

There was just one area of concern: "Moderate FDG uptake associated with a round 1.3 cm left inguinal lymph node." The radiologist advised the oncologist to "consider correlation with tissue sampling."

Today was my oncology appointment. For entirely separate reasons, I was unable to travel to the hospital today: I wrenched my back over the weekend and yesterday morning, it was so bad that I couldn't even scratch my nose without triggering unbearable spams. After spending all day yesterday in the ER (after being lifted out of my house on a stretcher), getting MRIs and pain meds, I'm much better off, though still unable to get out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time.

So this morning at 8:30 sharp, I started calling the oncology department and appointment services to get that appointment changed over to a virtual visit. While I spent an hour trying various non-working phone numbers and unsuccessfully trying to get Kaiser appointment services to reach my oncologist, I tried to message him through the KP app. It turns out that because he is a visiting fellow and not staff, this wasn't possible.

I eventually got through to the oncology department and had the appointment switched over. The oncology nurse told me that they've been trying for months to get KP to fix the bug where fellows can't be messaged by patients. So as soon as I got off the phone with her, I called member services and filed another grievance. Why bother, if I'd gotten what I needed? Same logic as before: if you have the stamina and skills to demand a fix to a broken system, you have a duty to use them.

I got off the phone with my oncologist about an hour ago. It went fine. I'm going to get a needle biopsy on that one suss node. If it comes back positive, I'll get a few very local, very low-powered radiation therapy interventions, whose worst side effect will be "a mild sunburn over a very small area." If it's negative, we're done, but I'll get quarterly CT/PET scans to be on the safe side.

Before I got off the phone, I made sure to get the name of the department where the needle biopsy would be performed and a phone number. The order for the biopsy just posted to my health record, and now I'm redialing the department to book in that appointment (I'm not waiting around for them to call me).

While I redial, a few more lessons from my experience. First, who do you tell? I told my wife and my parents, because I didn't want to go through a multi-week period of serious anxiety all on my own. Here, too, I made a mistake: I neglected to ask them not to tell anyone else. The word spread a little before I put a lid on things. I wanted to keep the circle of people who knew this was going on small, until I knew what was what. There's no point in worrying other people, of course, and my own worry wasn't going to be helped by having to repeat, "Well, it looks pretty good, but we won't know until I've had a scan/my appointment/etc."

Next, how to manage the process: this is a complex, multi-stage process. It began with a physician appointment, then a radiologist, then a pathology report, then surgery, then another pathology report, then an oncologist, then a scan, then another radiologist, and finally, the oncologist again.

That's a lot of path-dependent, interdepartmental stuff, with a lot of ways that things can fall off the rails (when my dad had cancer at my age, there was a big gap in care when one hospital lost a fax from another hospital department and my folks assumed that if they hadn't heard back, everything was fine).

So I have been making extensive use of a suspense file, where I record what I'm waiting for, who is supposed to provide it, and when it is due. Though I had several places where my care continuity crumbled some, there would have been far more if I hadn't done this:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/26/one-weird-trick/#todo

The title of this piece is "how to have cancer," but what it really boils down to is, "things I learned from my own cancer." As I've noted, I'm playing this one on the easiest setting: I have no symptoms, I speak and write English fluently, I am computer literate and reasonably capable of parsing medical/technical jargon. I have excellent insurance.

If any of these advantages hadn't been there, things would have been a lot harder. I'd have needed these lessons even more.

To recap them:

See a frontline care worker as soon as possible: don't wait for an appointment with a specific MD. Practically any health worker can prod a lump and refer you for further testing;

Get a direct phone number for every specialist you are referred to (add this to your phone book); call them immediately after the referral to get scheduled (better yet, walk over to their offices and schedule the appointment in person);

Get a timeframe as to when your results are due and when you can expect to get a follow-up; call the direct number as soon as the due-date comes (use calendar reminders for this);

If you can't get a call back, an appointment, or a test result in a reasonable amount of time (use a suspense file to track this), lodge a formal complaint with your insurer/facility, and consider filing with the state regulator;

Think hard about who you're going to tell, and when, and talk over your own wishes about who they can tell, and when.

As you might imagine, I've spent some time talking to my parents today as these welcome results have come in. My mother is (mostly) retired now, and she's doing a lot of volunteer work on end-of-life care. She recommends a book called Hope for the Best, Plan for the Rest: 7 Keys for Navigating a Life-Changing Diagnosis:

https://pagetwo.com/book/hope-for-the-best-plan-for-the-rest/

I haven't read it, but it looks like it's got excellent advice, especially for people who lack the self-advocacy capabilities and circumstances I'm privileged with. According to my mom, who uses it in workshops, there's a lot of emphasis on the role that families and friends can play in helping someone whose physical, mental and/or emotional health are compromised.

So, that's it. I've got cancer. No cancer is good. This cancer is better than most. I am almost certainly fine. Every medical professional I've dealt with, and all the administrative support staff at Kaiser, have been excellent. Even the doc who dropped the ball on my biopsy was really good to deal with – she was just clearly drowning in work. The problems I had are with the system, not the people. I'm profoundly grateful to all of them for the help they gave me, the interest and compassion they showed, and the clarity and respect they demonstrated in my dealings with them.

I'm also very grateful to my wife, my parents, and my boss at EFF, all of whom got the news early and demonstrated patience, love, and support that helped in my own dark hours over the past couple of months.

I hope you're well. But you know, everyone gets something, eventually. When you find yourself mired in a broken system full of good people, work the system – for yourself and for the people who come behind you. Take records. Make calls.

Look after yourself.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/05/carcinoma-angels/#squeaky-nail

#cancer #medicare for all #m4a #health #socialism or barbarism #oncology #kaiser #kaiser permanente #kp

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occamstfs · 1 year ago

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Rosa's Cafe

Here's a longer Racial TF set in a coffee shop, Best! Occam

Matthew had clocked up more hours of overtime for his company than they were willing to pay him. He assumed that their guidelines weren’t so rigid and that he would be fine to get ahead early. These days you really need to go above and beyond to get ahead and Matthew was determined to get in the good graces of the big bosses.

Unfortunately working so hard was a misplay. His direct boss was forcing him to take Paid Time Off in lieu of the overtime pay for the past year. Now he sits at home with next to nothing to do, twiddling his thumbs until he can return to the grind. He loved back when he was a barista in college? Maybe he can get back to customer service?

Reflecting on this he takes to LinkedIn to see if there are any managerial spots open for a cafe. Something needs to scratch his itch for administration and he night as well pour coffee while doing so. In a stroke of luck, or perhaps something more deliberate, as soon as he logs in to check listings he sees a manager position at “Rosa’s Cafe.”

He auto-submits his resume to the restaurant assuming he’s overqualified before even reading the listing’s qualifications. Glancing through them he sees that they’d prefer someone fluent in Spanish. Matthew struggles to recall what if any Spanish remains in his head from taking it in both high school and college. He starts to pull up a language app on his phone before seeing that, jarringly fast, he has already been advanced to an interview for this cafe. Rosa herself sending him a message to come as soon as he’s ready.

Matthew then sprints to check himself in a mirror. He has certainly not slacked in his hygiene since he was asked to stop coming into work, partially in hopes that they’ll need him to come in any day. Today though he throws on some cologne and drives off to Rosa’s Cafe. He doesn’t stop to question how odd it is to already be on the way to an interview, minutes after submitting his resume. They must just really need someone?

As soon as he arrives Rosa is there at the door to greet him, smiling wide and welcoming him into her establishment.

“Hola Matthew! So glad for you to join us, your application was outstanding! Solamente, I was wondering why you wanted this job given your current one?”

Matthew blushes and explains his situation, struggling not to sound like a maniac for wanting to work despite the relatively cushy situation he is in. Although Rosa hears this and is impressed at his ethic, his crave to work. Rosa was more than happy to take advantage of his situation.

“Uhhh there was just one thing though, Miss. Oh uh, lo siento. Señora Rosa.”

“Sí, sí. You aren’t quite fluent en Español, are you Matthew?” He averts his eyes but before he can answer Rosa continues on, “Esta bien. You will just learn on the job sí?”

Putting on an air of determination Matthew pumps his fist “Sí, Sra Rosa! Uh claro que sí,” he attempts, stepping to the limit of the Spanish remaining in his head. Rosa gives him a look like an owner watching a pet as it tries to show off, offering an ambiguous smile before explaining her stance.

“Claro que sí,” offering a knowing nod, “I’m sure you understand why I would want a manager to speak Español, yes? En esta ciudad, in this city, there are very few places where Español is the default. I would just like my cafe to be one of them. The job is of course yours, I would be a fool not to take the opportunity. But while you’re here, mientras estás aquí, please work on su Espanol,” tacking on, “I can’t imagine it will be too long before you’re called back to your job eh? Una estrella como tu”

To her point there are clearly not a lot of people speaking English in the cafe. Matthew would guess he is probably the only native English speaker present making him blush, although after being flattered by Rosa he was ready to accept. After all he had been meaning to practice his Spanish anyway. He puts his hand out to shake her hand, “when can I start?”

“Well, mi pequeño gerente, why not start training now?” Turning around she calls over the barista Juan to introduce the two, talking to Juan at a speed that made it clear to Matthew that she was quite dumbing down her language in their conversation. She then bids farewell to the two, “adios Matthew! Tengo que ah, cόmo se dice, file your paperwork. Hasta mañana!”

“Hola Matthew, it is nice to meet you! Rosa said to show you around,” Juan smiles offering him a cup of their house roast. “Espero que, ah, I hope you don’t mind but I added canella, cinnamon.” Matthew graciously accepts the cup. He may be a world removed from his time as a barista but instantly returns to his first coffee tasting.

It smelled quite strong, darker than he usually prefers and he can see cinnamon swirling through the cup as the cup steams in his hand. He begins to bring the cup up for a closer smell although as soon as the movement begins the allure of the drink overpowers him and he drinks almost too quickly. It was delicious. He always, almost performatively, drank black coffee at his old job. Or no, his real job?

Juan sees Matthew continue to gulp down the cup of coffee waiting for reaction, though he sees very little sign of his mind processing the drink at all. Matthew’s just staring ahead, his eyes ever so slightly glazing over as he finishes the cup. He grins as it almost looks like the coffee has stained Matthew’s upper lip, offering a napkin before asking, “te gusta hermano?”

Matthew snaps back to his senses, staring at Juan as a small ring of brown starts to stain the center of his icy blue eyes. He struggles to even find the words to describe how profoundly he enjoyed the coffee. It was a passion too great for him to even begin to capture in English. “Juan, that was, cómo se dice? Is there some word better than delicioso?”

Juan laughs putting his arm around his new manager, “Ay hermano! Maybe that’s what you should do now! You just go work on your Spanish and I’ll bring you some samples! Ah, aqui, the employee handbook is in Spanish, practica perfecta!” He brings over another cup and the handbook and Matthew starts struggling through it.

Matthew figuratively bashes his head into the handbook, it’s not dense but it is per cierto not written with beginners in mind. Smirking as he notices he just reflexively thought in Spanish, going to get another drink only to find the cup emptied once more. He hasn’t been drinking nearly as much since he left the office, bargaining with himself as Juan comes to refill his cup. He can cut back his intake later, he needs to get this through this work.

And work at it he does, caffeine is not making him feel wired as usual but sensual as he continues to page through the booklet. He starts to stretch just to feel the strain in his muscles and the tension in his clothes. He looks down and sees his shirt is fitting much better than he thought it did. It’s not tight but anyone who looks can see there is muscle under there. He stares at his own body feeling strength he does not remember cultivating. Suddenly he notices it’s not only his upper body that’s filling out, as a growing package begins to demand attention under the table. These jeans were clearly not designed to handle this and Matthew is barely able to stop himself from flexing to see just how much he truly can fill this outfit and he attempts to switch gears back to working. Urgently feeling adverse to thinking any further about his body.

Struggling to find any way to distract himself he remembers being historically shit at actually speaking in Spanish. This is as good a chance as any to practice his pronunciation. Matthew begins to mouth the words in the handbook, feeling his tongue in unfamiliar ways that he swears he has done a million times before. Matthew attempts to raise his practice to a whisper and immediately goes into a coughing fit. Hope that coffee didn’t burn my throat he thinks clearing his throat and finding a much deeper voice on the other side. One that announces his Spanish progress to the whole cafe shockingly loud for a whisper though Matthew doesn’t notice. What is immediately apparent to him is how expertly he rolled an R.

He knows he could never do that, and not without trying. He probably spent half an hour practicing it his sophomore year. He reflects back on how hard he worked on Spanish in the past as his eyes start to glaze over once more. Something is off here, his hand raising to his face not notice a moustache and sloppy goatee start to push out of his face. He foes feel itchy elsewhere though, scratching at his chest and stomach, averting the more animalistic urge to scratch his pits and crotch as Juan begins to walk over.

Matthew quickly tries to meet him halfway, standing to a height just taller than the one he thought he knew to be true. His bulge grazes the bottom of the table which causes his body to convulse in pleasure. His feet are caught on the table as he falls knocking his coffee all over himself and the floor. “Mierda!” He shouts before going dark.

He awakens to Juan wiping coffee off his face, his clothes now certainly stained brown and spelling of rich coffee and cinnamon. Helping him back to standing, Juan makes sure he is alright, “quite the fall amigo! Tal vez we call it a day?” Matthew hastily agrees feeling impossibly strained and weary for what little work he has actually done. Juan continues, “Rosa said the paperwork should be good for you to start tomorrow if you can!” Stumbling to his feet Matt knows he agrees but the rest of his night is little more than a blur.

He sees Juan wink at him and knows he is going to start tomorrow. He must drive home after that since he is now looking at himself in the mirror brushing his teeth. Something seems off, he is clearly too tired to put a finger on exactly what it is. He flexes his bicep noticing he must have completely disrobed. He thought he shaved his pits recently. He scratches at his crotch realizing that his now heavier cock is also out, pawing at his pubes and feeling his bulge expand even further into his hand before forcing it into some briefs and continuing his audit.

Didn’t he have a tan? Looking at himself up and down he feels like he isn’t supposed to be this pale right? Isn’t he from? Matthew feels lightheaded and begins to collapse once more before being jarred back to reality smelling the coffee and cinnamon scent still hugging his chest. Using this second wind he stumbles into bed, neglecting to change into his nightclothes and he quickly drifts to sleep.

Matt falls into a dream that feels realer than the reality of his previous life. It’s the middle of the rush and he sees himself working at an espresso machine with Juan. He looks down seeing his body expertly maneuver around the bar, tossing cinnamon into drinks, chatting with customers in truly fluent Spanish. He pauses in this dreamscape to notice the tan he was so sure he had earlier. He sees the tattooed arms he has known for years, he worked hard enough for them after all, might as well show them off on the clock. He raises the hairy arms to flex at Juan and say something clever in his native tongue before being jarred back to reality by a sunbeam.

Matt awakens hearing his morning wood stretch his briefs to their near limit barely able to keep himself together before seeing the time and once more shouting “mierda!” He is already so late for work, they’ve been open for hours. It’s his first real day and he has already jod- he’s already fucked it up! He quickly inspects himself once more, seeing the true version of himself he saw in his dream. Seeing his recently shaved chest he quickly realizes he doesn’t have time for a shower. He smells his pits just to see how bad the damage is. His voice rumbles in his chest, “joder…”

He smells again even deeper, it reminds him of? Oh it is just on the tip of his tongue, which he begins to reach out before remembering his predicament. He throws on a dress shirt before giving one last whiff to his pits, flexing his pecs as he does so. It is so fragrant, almost spicy. Matt postpones the mystery after concluding it should certainly be covered by the smell at Rosa’s and rushing out the door. Not seeing as his chest pops off the top button of his shirt and his neat goatee begins to grow even thicker.

Matt rushes into the door and is greeted like a regular, which he is of course to be now, as the new manager. He feels a warmth in his chest as Juan brings over his first cup of the day. “Buenos días Juan!” Matt offers before going to meet the chef, Benito, as the plan was today.

Making his way back to the kitchen he smells something even more distracting to him than his body odor this morning. Benito runs over with a plate full of arepas that Matt recognizes instantly before Benito greets him, “buenos dias jefe! Rosa said you wanted us to start serving arepas sí?”

“Rosa? She said, I asked for these?”

“Si! Desde su ciudad natal no?”

Matt’s mouth is overcome as he starts to clearly drool for the plate in front of him. He has no choice but to tear into one which immediately brings him back. He loved these when he was a kid, but? Didn’t he grow up en los estados? Wasn’t he from? He fails to finish the thought in his head before it is wiped away as if fireworks are going of in his mind.

He beams at Benito as his eyes glaze over and fully darken to brown. He feels an urge to burp which he chokes down with another cup of coffee. “Ay this takes me back amigo, estos son exactamente como, like the ones mi abuela había before nos pequeños…” Matt pauses as he feels a pervasive warmth starts to grow distracting in his chest as a similar itch begins on the outside.

He doesn’t notice as his inner monologue begins to entirely shift away from English, as it should of course. He may live in los Estados hoy, but he was colombiano born and bred. He remembers how hard he worked as a child learning English as his biceps start to clearly strain the already tight dress shirt.

Matt remembers fighting for his place to get a degree at a university that did not respect his native country or tongue as he feels his voice deepen beyond baritone and into a strong bass. He remembers trying to find a place in this mierda ciudad before meeting Rosa as his chest bursts open shooting any buttons remaining off his shirt.

Rosa then enters the kitchen to see how her new hire has progressed and slyly smiles seeing his progress. She tosses a shirt at him saying in Spanish now effortlessly understood “Oi Matteo! You’re in the kitchen put some clothes on!”

Matteo shuffles to the restroom to change as he looks one last time in the mirror and sees the flawless trajabador he sees every time he checks himself out. He puts on his nametag flexing to see just how much he can strain his shirt before returning to the cafe, ready to conquer another day in the life he has worked so hard for.

#racial change #male tf #muscle tf #mental change #race change #masculinization

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