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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

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Singing in the Shower (Ragnarssons x Reader)

This is just a silly little one-shot that came to mind that I could not stop thinking about. It got a bit deeper than I planned but oops?

Also my first time writing a Ragnarssons x reader! Please let me know if I did all the brothers justice. Except Bjorn isn’t in here. So its just the sons of Aslaug. Sorry, Bjorn.

Warnings: some brief mentions of abusive/unhealthy past relationships, reader has some insecurities, the brothers being the best roomies ever but also creepers, like one or two swear words, FLUFFY GOODNESS!!!

Words: 3700

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius

(picture is from Pinterest. Not mine.)

The sound of laughter echoed around you even before leaving your bedroom. It was a Sunday night so that meant the Lothbrok brothers were all over. A tradition Ubbe started some months ago to make sure the four brothers stayed connected in each other's lives. Every Sunday evening, all of them would congregate in the three bedroom flat you shared with Ubbe and Hvitserk. They would order a stack of pizzas and enough beer to put a pub crawl to shame, and watch movies or play video games until the early morning hours. Only twice had fist fights broken out between Sigurd and Ivar with just a table and a lamp damaged in the process, so Ubbe called it a win.

It had only been about a year that you lived with Ubbe and Hvitserk. Sigurd chose to move in with a couple members of the band he played in. Aslaug vehemently refused to let Ivar move out due to his many medical needs that she claimed he could only receive proper attention for at home. In equal parts rebellion and to escape his mother’s suffocating attention, Ivar spent the majority of his free time and nights crashing on the couch at your shared flat.

At first, you were hesitant about living with the two brothers, having only known them through friends, but you decided to give it a chance. Within a couple of months, you found the strange dynamics of your shared space and your vastly different relationships with each of the brothers to feel eerily familiar….like being home.

Standing at your door, you listened to the brothers for a few moments, smiling broadly as you heard Hvitserk taunting Sigurd about how he was going to beat his ass if he threw another blue shell at him. Meanwhile Ivar was yelling something about the undeniable magic of Yoshi and his winning streak. They must be playing Mario Kart again.

It was nice to hear them all getting along. Normally Sunday nights you hung out with your boyfriend to give the brothers privacy, even though all of them repeatedly told you it was unnecessary. That was until last week. You had taken a selfie on your boyfriend's phone and went to set it as his background to surprise him….and found nude pictures of other girls and the dick pics he sent them back. Before you stormed out of his flat, you may have thrown his phone against the wall, pleased when the screen shattered just like your trust. Then you came home and cried to Hvitserk about how you were swearing off men and just wanted to be a spinster for the rest of your life.

Word must have spread between the brothers. For the rest of the week, they all offered their support in various ways. Sigurd texted you a few times to check on you and remind you that clearly you were better off without your ex. Ubbe gave you long hugs as if trying to soak the pain out of you, and made sure you were eating and getting out of bed. Hvitserk surprised you with a new sugary treat every day ranging from Oreos to ice cream to chocolate muffins; then you two would cuddle on the couch indulging yourselves while watching movies. Ivar threatened to beat up your now ex-boyfriend for making you cry and take pictures to send to those girls your ex had been texting. You made sure to shut Ivar's idea down quickly but pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and thanked him for offering. You hated your ex, that did not mean you wanted him dead.

You pushed away from your door and down the hallway. Popping your head around the corner, you saw the brothers in various positions in the living room, eyes all glued to the TV and the race happening on-screen.

"I'm gonna shower." You announced, receiving grunts of affirmations as they were too focused to fully acknowledge you. Smiling at their antics, you headed into the bathroom, shutting the door and starting the shower up. Once the water was at the perfect temperature, you stripped and jumped in. Of course, once the mixture of hot water and steam helped you relax, you started singing to yourself, letting the worries of the day fade away for just a moment as the words flowed from your lips and echoed off the shower stall walls like your own little stage.

Unbeknownst to you, as soon as the bathroom door shut and the sound of water running could be heard, the volume on the TV was muted.

Ivar, surprisingly, was the first one to overhear your singing. He had come over to crash for a few hours after his latest doctor appointment and to work on an assignment for a University class. The bathroom door somehow had not fully latched when you closed it, cracking open while you were in the shower….and you started singing. Ivar sat stunned on the couch at the voice slipping out of the bathroom like a siren's song. He remained there, transfixed as you sang some song he had never heard but he could feel in his chest. Once you stopped singing and the shower turned off, he quickly jumped up and hobbled over to silently shut the door, slightly embarrassed by the idea of you catching him listening in to your shower singing.

Later that day after you headed out to work, Ivar asked Ubbe and Hvitserk if they had heard you sing yet. Both of them denied ever hearing you sing. When asked if he knew anything, Sigurd was upset, having asked you on multiple nights to go to a karaoke bar with him and some friends. You always refused by saying you sounded Iike a beached whale.

Ubbe was next to overhear. He was walking by the bathroom on the way to the kitchen when he heard your voice drifting from underneath the bathroom door. Feeling like a creeper but curiosity winning out, he pressed his ear to the bathroom door to listen better. To say he had been shocked was an understatement. Sure, he had heard Ivar praise your voice, but he figured his youngest brother was exaggerating. It made him wonder why you never sang in front of others.

A silent pact was made between the brothers that they would never share the information of your singing with anyone outside the four of them….and whenever you jumped in the shower, whoever was the closest would go and crack the bathroom door open so they could hear you better.

This time was no different.

Sigurd was closest, so after Ubbe paused the game, he jumped up and silently cracked open the door so your beautiful voice could flow out. The game picked back up but remained on mute so they could hear you. The first song you serenaded them with was Walk Me Home by Pink. Apparently, one of your new favorites since you sang it so often. Next was Someone Like You by Adele. By the third song, the brothers had abandoned the game and were solely focused on you and the raw emotion bleeding from your voice. This time you started to sing Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi.

Ubbe spoke up, keeping his voice quiet just in case you could hear them, however unlikely. "Has she said anything about her ex lately?"

"Not to me." Hvitserk answered first. "I thought she was doing fine."

"Just because she's not crying all the time doesn't mean she's fine." Ivar retorted harshly, never removing his eyes from the direction of the bathroom. After a moment, he got up and hobbled towards the bathroom.

"Ivar…. Ivar, what are you doing?" Ubbe hissed but was ignored.

As quiet as possible, Ivar walked into the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid; your singing managed to cover the sounds of his movement. As he rolled his head to the side, it was to find his brothers had followed him with varying expressions ranging from concern to amusement.

Normally you did not spend so long in the shower but today you decided to spoil yourself. You had been doing well all week but this morning you were scrolling through your Instagram and happened to stumble upon a picture of your ex with a new girl, smiling happily and kissing at a restaurant…. the day after you broke up. And seeing them together felt like it ripped a tear into the slowly healing pieces of your heart.

Instead of going out like you planned to do, you laid in bed all-day binge-watching movies and feeling like an idiot. So in the shower you took extra time pampering yourself, using a deep conditioner in your hair, shaving everywhere and just letting the hot water cascade down your skin and loosen the tense muscles.

At this point you were feeling a little better and decided it was best not to waste any more water. You turned the water off, running your hands down your body to get as much excess water off, before you reached for your towel. Grabbing the plush towel hanging on the rack, you quickly dried your hair and wrapped the towel around your body before pulling the curtain back….

Only to shriek as you realized you were not alone in the bathroom.

"What? What are you guys doing?" You demanded, eyes frantically darting between the four brothers.

Ivar sat on the toilet lid; head tilted as he watched you with a peculiar expression on his face. Hvitserk leaned against the sink, eyes darting from your towel-clad body to the floor then back up. Ubbe and Sigurd stood in the doorway, both looking the least comfortable but still not moving.

"We, ah, we were…. well, we are concerned for you." Ubbe said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Concerned?" You asked incredulously.

Ivar ignored your question. "Is this about your ex? Want me to pay him a visit?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your singing. They were sad songs." Sigurd answered, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

Heat flooded your face. You dropped your head, staring at the bathroom floor as you clutched the towel closer to your body. Honestly, the idea of them hearing your singing was far more humiliating than them seeing you naked at this point. "You…. you heard me…. singing?"

"Y/n, are you OK? You know you can tell us anything." Hvitserk said, trying to meet your eye.

"Um, can…. can we talk about this when…. when I'm not naked?"

"Of course. Come on, brothers." Ubbe quickly agreed, tapping the door as if to signal. He and Sigurd walked away first. Only when you finally met Hvitserk's eye did he push off the sink and head out but not before giving you a flirty wink.

"Ivar…."

He slouched back, folding his hands behind his head. "I'm quite comfortable here."

"Oh gods, please, Ivar." You begged, almost on the verge of tears.

He stared at you a long moment before pushing himself to his feet. "Don't think you're getting out of this."

"Ok."

Appeased, he made his way out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Once alone, you stepped out of the shower only to drop onto the toilet lid and place your head in your hands. Your chest heaved and your eyes stung as you fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Today was bad enough and now this. It had to be something out of a nightmare. Your own personal hell.

When you finally composed yourself, you quickly changed into your comfiest sweats and tank top. You wished you could make a run for your room, anything to avoid the impending conversation but you knew the brothers would follow, they were all stubborn and persistent when they wanted to be.

With a deep breath, you stepped out of the bathroom and towards the living room. What hushed disagreement the brothers were clearly having abruptly ended when they noticed you. Awkwardly you remained standing, unsure where to sit. The only open spots were on the couch between Hvitserk and Ivar or one of the recliners as Ubbe sat in the other one. Sigurd reclined on the rocker gaming chair on the floor.

Averting your eyes, you started towards the open recliner only to have a strong arm snake around your waist as you passed by and pulled you onto the couch. You squeaked as you suddenly found yourself perched on Ivar's lap. Somewhere you had certainly never been before.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, a cocky grin spread across his face.

"Um, over there." You nodded your head towards the other open spot.

"No, you're sitting here now."

"Stop hogging her, brother." Hvitserk reached over and dragged you off Ivar. Somehow you ended up with your back against Hvitserk's side, his arm slung around you and your legs across Ivar's lap, him slowly running his hand up and down them.

Ubbe raised an eyebrow at the three of you. "Are you done yet?"

"I thought we were just fine but I guess Hvitty had other plans." Ivar snarked, rolling his eyes.

"We're good now." Hvitserk said with a cheesy smile, making you giggle.

"So how are you really doing, y/n?" Ubbe asked, staring at you with those knowing blue eyes.

"Um, I'm alright. Today was just…. rough." At the four questioning looks, you quickly explained about what you found this morning on Instagram.

Ivar slapped the armrest of the couch. "I'm beating his ass now and nothing you say can stop me."

You snagged his other hand that was still on your leg and clasped it, as if that alone could diminish his deadly intent. "Please don't. He's not worth it. I just…. I just want to move on. Ok?"

He grumbled, but eventually gripped your hand and gave it a single squeeze in acknowledgement.

Now here was the part that petrified you; but you needed to know.

"Um, how…. how long have…. was this your first time?" Your words stumbled out, making you cringe at how ineloquent it was.

"What are you talking about?" Sigurd drawled; one foot propped up so he slowly rocked in the gaming chair.

You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. You dropped your gaze, as you whispered your answer. "My….my singing."

"What? You sound bloody brilliant! The others have heard you more than me but you always sound amazing!" Sigurd exclaimed, a beaming smile on his face. "I don't know why you haven't gone out with me before! Oh! I'd love for you to try and sing in my band, we could use an amazing vocalist like you! Gods, we could get way more gigs with a beautiful woman like you upfront singing."

Soon as Sigurd started talking, you covered your face with your hands. The tears you managed to repress earlier flooded back. Your shoulders hunched over, cowering into yourself at the revelation. They had all heard you. Apparently more than just this one time. It was mortifying. Long ago you stopped singing in front of others, no longer able to face the ridicule, the degrading comments always thrown your way. And now, these brothers that you had become so close to…. if they said anything negative towards you right now, you were sure your heart would fully break and no lyric would ever pass your lips again.

Hvitserk shifted behind you, turning you so he could wrap both arms around your waist and place his cheek against the side of your head. "Y/n, talk to us."

You shook your head, the barely suppressed tears and poisoned words clogging your throat.

Abruptly, a pair of calloused hands grabbed yours, forcing them away from your face. You were immediately met by a pair of piercing blue eyes, only inches from your face.

"Whose ass am I killing now? Huh?" Ivar demanded in a low, menacing tone. Between his tone and the fury burning in his eyes, you knew he meant his question, and that sent a nervous chill down your spine.

"It's not…. it’s nothing."

"Bullshit." Ivar spat.

Hvitserk nuzzled your temple, his voice lighter but still with an edge of steel in it. "I agree with Ivar. Something happened."

Biting your bottom lip, you closed your eyes. There were a few things that were just too painful to talk about and this one, they had unknowingly stumbled upon.

"Was it your mother?"

Your eyes flew open, your head snapped over to stare at Ubbe in shock. He met your gaze unflinchingly, and somehow you knew he already figured at least part of it out. He accidentally overheard a phone conversation between you and your mother one time and once you got off the phone, he immediately pulled you into a bone-crushing hug and promised you never had to see her again if you never wanted to, that they would take care of you. Of course, you cried all over him after he promised that.

Ubbe leaned forward in the recliner, placing his elbows on his knees, gaze still intent on you. "What did she do?"

"She…. she hated when I sang. Said I was just desperate for attention. That I needed to just shut up. That no one would want to listen to me anyway. If she ever caught me singing…. once she duct-taped my mouth shut."

You could hear the gasps at your confession, followed by a round of curses. Hvitserk pressed a kiss to your temple, tightening his hold on you. Ivar squeezed your hands, still holding them within his own.

Ubbe nodded as if not surprised. He ran a hand down his face and sighed before stealing your gaze once again. "I have a feeling she wasn't the only one to hurt you."

At this point, a silent tear trekked down your cheek. You sniffled, dropping your gaze down. "I had an ex who used to make fun of my singing. He used to say 'at least you're pretty'. When we would ride together listening to music, he would tell me to stop singing and 'leave it to the professionals'. At some point, it just….it was better to not sing in front of anyone. So I only sang in the shower cause I thought no one would hear me."

Hvitserk turned your head, looking into your eyes. "Baby, listen to me. Your singing is incredible. We all love listening to you sing. Please don't be embarrassed about this with us."

"I'd love for you to walk around the house singing, I could happily listen to that all day." Ubbe said, a tender smile on his lips.

"I second that!"

"Sig, you're only here on Sundays." Ubbe glanced over at his brother.

Sigurd shrugged. "So? I could listen to her sing all day. Maybe she should move in with me and actually be appreciated."

"No! You're not stealing her from us!" Hvitserk said, practically cradling you against him, like a puppy afraid to lose its favorite toy.

"It's not stealing if she wants to go!"

Ivar butted in. "I am more interested in this other shitty ex and mother...can I find them?"

"No, Ivar. You have to stop threatening people."

"Why?" He whined at you, tugged on your hands, your legs still across his lap. "You won't let me teach them a lesson so all I can do is threaten."

"Also sounds like you have terrible taste in guys. Anymore shitty exes we should know about?" Sigurd asked, rocking his chair.

You figured at this point you were spilling all your dirty secrets so what was one more. "Um, I was talking to this one guy but when he found out I moved in here, he called me a whore for moving in with two brothers and told me I was a waste of his time." You softly admitted, having made sure none of them ever heard about that after it happened.

For a moment there was dead silence then….

"I'm going to need his name right now." Ubbe said, malice dripping off every word.

"Yeah! Let's cut his tongue out! See what he says about that!" Ivar cheered.

You could not stop the laughter that came out. The idea that these brothers got so worked up over anyone that ever insulted or hurt you was both sweet and slightly infuriating, but mostly sweet. No one had ever cared about you as strongly as these four brothers.

"It's fine now. How about this? Next guy to hurt me, I promise I'll give you his name."

"No! I want to cut this asshole's tongue out. Maybe slap him with it after!" Ivar smiled with a pure predatory look.

"I think you should just date one of us." Sigurd shrugged, watching everyone with a smirk. "Then you know he'd treat you right."

"I like this idea." Hvitserk smiled, squeezing you lightly. "We would romance the hell out of you."

"You guys are being silly. I don't even know what romance would look like." You giggled at the absurd idea. All the brothers were gorgeous in their own ways and could pick up any girl they wanted, why would they want you? Besides, your relationships were just platonic. "Is the interrogation over now? Want me to leave so you can get back to your game?"

"Nope, you're stuck here." Ivar said, leaning on you now so you were sandwiched between the two brothers.

Ubbe chuckled. "We've told you before, you are welcome to hang out with us. Why don't we put in a movie?"

After many arguments and some mild threats, a movie was finally chosen. You settled against Hvitserk, facing the TV, as you played with Ivar's hair, his head now in your lap.

As you watched the movie, you missed the silent conversation between the brothers happening around you. It was decided that your next boyfriend would certainly be one of them and in the meantime, they were all going to romance the hell out of you and make sure you understood how important and incredible you are.

Starting with making sure you sang whenever you wanted.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #ivars heathen army #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson #sigurd #sigurd ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #vikings imagine #modern vikings #roommates #mzwrites

271 notes · View notes

yespolkadotkitty · 3 years

Note

i think it’s fair to say that i’ve fallen far too in love with your zach one shots — not only do you capture his persona so well, it genuinely feels like i’m watching an episode of brothers & sisters

also, your ricky one shot was also so so so good!! you have no idea how grateful we all are that you pluck these characters from obscurity and portray their defining characteristics so accurately while also adding the loveliest fluffiest fluff of all time

i was wondering if you would consider writing a jealous!zach one shot? ngl, the (mutual) pining mixed with jealousy trope is my guilty pleasure and i feel like jealous zach would be 11/10

anyway, just wanted to say you’re fucking amazing and i adore your writing — i hope you’re having a great day!!

THANK YOU FOR THIS LOVELY ASK

(NB: Ok I know this is not Zach but it COULD be. It’s the right year. There are SO FEW pics of Zach so let’s just go with it).

Words: 1700 ~ Warnings: jealousy, pining, angst, fluff, one awesome kiss

Pairing: Zach Wellison x gn!reader

************

YOU: Is it wrong to be attracted to the super in my building?

BFF: Why would it be wrong? Use it to curry favour! Get stuff fixed faster! What is he/she like?

YOU: Tall. Tanned. Dark blond. Has a tattoo - military maybe? Sexiest voice ever.

BFF: If you don’t get him, I will.

You set your phone down and smiled.

Maybe I should say something.

Zach had been the building super of your apartment block for the last three months. He was a massive improvement on the last guy, who spent his days playing Zelda and smoking weed and very occasionally getting off his ass to fix stuff.

He’d been to your place - conveniently next door to his, he had a live-in type gig - four times. The garbage disposal, the leaky faucet, the faucet again, and then the window.

Notes could be left in his mailbox downstairs by tenants who needed assistance. He always responded the same day, the next day at the very latest, and he always tried to arrange a time with the occupant that suited them.

He’d gotten all greasy and wet fixing the faucet, his plaid button-down clinging to him, and eventually he’d stripped it off, revealing a tattoo you hadn’t been brave enough to try and examine properly, and some serious biceps.

Next time I see him, you promise yourself.

BFF: Btw, what’s happening with the dude at no 16?

YOU: Nothing.

You’d engaged in a mild flirtation with the well-built guy across the hall. Sometimes he got your mail in his box by mistake and he dropped it off, but lately he hadn’t engaged with you, and you began to think he was just being friendly.

The next day, before you could properly think of what to write down for Zach, the washing machine that came with your place started to leak. You noticed when trying to take your clothes out of it.

“Crap!”

Rather than put a note in his box, you knocked on Zach’s door.

He opened it after a minute, surprise sketched on his handsome face, hair ruffled, sweat beading at the neck of his t-shirt. Past him, you could see weight lifting equipment on the floor, along with a small speaker playing 70s rock.

“Fleetwood Mac?” You ask, smiling. “They’re my favourite.”

“No kidding?” A smile tipped up one corner of his mouth. “So... “ His brown eyes met yours, warm, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I hate to bother you directly, but my washer’s busted - leaking.”

“It’s no bother.” He glanced behind him. “Give me five, okay? I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks so much, Zach.”

He nods and closes the door. You’re about to turn back to your apartment when Well Built Guy - Damon, you think his name is - comes out of his own apartment.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Oh, hey. How are you?”

He pushes a hand through his short, black hair. His single earring glints in the daylight; gives him a pleasingly piratical look. “I’m good. How are you?”

“Yeah, good - thanks.” You move again.

“Wait.” He takes a step closer in the small hall. “I was wondering if you - if you wanted to get coffee sometime? This place two blocks over does an amazing dark roast.”

“Oh, well-”

You’re cut off when Zach’s door swings open. He’s changed into a clean shirt, a forest-green henley, and he carries a faded red toolbox. His gaze darts between you and Damon, wary, and for a second, his mouth turns down.

As quickly as you see it, it’s gone.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he mutters, to you. “Can I go in?”

“I’ll let you in, Zach.” You turn your attention to Damon.”Catch you later?”

“Sure, sweet thing.”

He’s called you the nickname before but it’s never chafed until today.

Zach doesn’t react as you come to the door and let him in.

“Thanks for coming by so quickly.”

He doesn’t look at you. “You didn’t have to cut your time with your boyfriend short.” He sets his toolbox down by the washer and kneels, unbothered by the pool of water that begins to leech into the pale denim of his jeans.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Zach sets about exploring the washer. “Okay.”

“He isn’t.” You stuff your hands in your pockets. “You want some coffee?”

For the first time, he looks up at you, and the expression in his honey-brown eyes is scraped bare, and then he looks away and the connection is lost. “Sure. Thanks. Black, one sugar.”

You busy yourself, just a few feet away - your kitchen is not big by any stretch of the imagination.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He’s absorbed, only his waist and ass sticking out from the drum of the washer.

You potter off to do some work.

An half hour later, Zach knocks on the door of your tiny office - the only other “room” of your studio aside from the bathroom.

“All fixed.”

“Thank you so much, Zach.”

He swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, leaving a smear of grease. “No problem.”

“You’ve got a-” You reach up, every nerve on end, wanting to touch him.

A knock sounds at your door.

Dammit.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

You swing the door open and Damon is there with two coffees.

“I was on my way back from the office,” he says. “I thought you might like to - oh, the super’s still there. Not fixed yet, pal?”

Damon says it innocuously but you see Zach’s shoulders tense.

“Nope, all good.” He rubs the palms of his hands together in a “that’s done” gesture. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“... Place next door is this amazing Italian,” Damon is saying, oblivious. “It’s pretty pricey but I’d love to take you there.”

Zach pushes between you and out of the door, but you see the crestfallen set of his shoulders as he goes.

The door swings shut behind him and you turn back to Damon, resigned to see this conversation out, and to make it clear that he’s kind, but you aren’t interested.

*******

That evening, you take the stairs down to the communal gym in your building. Well. Gym is stretching it. There’s one ancient rowing machine, one treadmill, a barbell that has seen much better days, and a CRT TV that only shows Judge Judy. But, you don’t have to pay for it, so it beats a gym contract elsewhere in the city.

When you push through the door, Zach is on the treadmill, earphones in. He’s wearing a sleeveless vest and your gaze is drawn to his intricate tattoo - an eagle perched on a world, an anchor hugging the globe. Marines.

Wow, you think - wow.

Sweat trickles down the back of his neck, and his thick, dark gold hair curls around his nape.

Now or never.

You walk over to the treadmill and drop your gym bag to announce your presence.

Zach turns, does a double take, and then presses a button on the treadmill to slow it down. He pulls his earphones out.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Zach.”

Curiosity flits across his features. “Something you need?”

You swallow. He looks so good, his pale gold skin slick with clean sweat, his breath coming in soft pants, his chest rising and falling, lean muscles delineated by the clinging vest.

“No. I mean, yes.”

“And you can’t get the guy at 16 to help?” he snarks.

You step back.

“Sorry,” Zach says, immediately. “I just…”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you assure Zach.

Above his head, on the TV, Judge Judy silently reprimands a woman with six face piercings.

“He could be. Guy like him. Good job. He’d take you to fancy Italian places.”

You curl your hand around the arm of the treadmill. “Maybe I don’t want to go to fancy Italian places.”

Zach huffs out a breath, but you have his interest.

“Maybe I’d just like to hang out with you.”

Suspicion narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Maybe I like you? Did you consider that? Maybe, for some bizarre reason, I think you’re nice and attractive?” you wave your arms, frustrated.

Zach folds his arms across his chest, pursing his lips. “I used to be a Marine, but I had to resign my commission because I got hit hard with PTSD. I lived on the street for two years.”

You hold his gaze as he speaks.

“Why are you telling me this?”

But then you know. He’s telling you so you’ll turn tail and go back to Damon, with his suits and fancy haircut and ability to take you out for $100 dinners.

He expects you to turn him down.

Because that’s what happens. What has happened and what he thinks will happen now.

Zach firms his lips and shakes his head slightly.

“Just go,” he says, so softly, mistaking your silence for pity, rather than resolve.

“No.” Instead, you lean up on your toes and touch your lips to his.

He starts, and then holds perfectly still. You break the kiss, and look up into his face, and he’s gazing at you like you hung the moon and all the stars.

“I like you, Zach,” you whisper. “And I don’t care if our first date is a picnic in the park.”

He blinks, turning away from you for a second, and then he ducks under the arm of the treadmill, and he’s so close that you breath catches.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, and then he cups your face in his hands and kisses you like he means it, lips and teeth and tongue, and it’s everything.

You spear your fingers into his hair and breathe him in, press yourself against the hard wall of his chest, sigh his name against his lips.

“I gotta shower,” he says, with clear reluctance, his voice half an octave lower, unsteady from a kiss that has rocked both your worlds. “Then, let’s see about that picnic.”

**********

Zach Pit & permanent taglist: @mrschiltoncat @astroboots @songsformonkeys @biblioworm @aeryntheofficial @thirstworldproblemss @wheresarizona @pedropascalito @knittingqueen13 @alwaysbethewest @agirllovespancakes @f0rever15elf @heatherbel @frannyzooey @lannister-slings-and-arrows @sarahjkl82-blog @thedazeinmylife @holographic-carmen @idreamofboobear @fromthedeskoftheraven @disgruntledspacedad @chicken-nugget-puta @miulola @nelba @alienprincesspoop @tardisfangurl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mylonelylittleappreciation @filthybookworm @absurdthirst @thestrawberry-thief @lilangeldevil006 @marydjarin @jedi-mando @havenforafrazzledmind @myoxisbroken @10-96dispatcher @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes @mrsparknuts @roxypeanut

#zach wellison x reader #zach wellison x gn reader #sfw fic #brothers and sisters fic

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

Text

Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 6

Masterlist / Playlist for this angsty mess

Eivor returns from her raid successfully and celebrations are in order. More drunk confessions.

Content Warning for alcohol/food consumption, blood, injury, intoxication

Inspo pic by @anaakeart

A Place in this World

As you left Valka’s hut, you could see people rushing down the hill toward the dock where a small crowd had gathered already. Sigurd and Randvi stood ready to greet Eivor and the other warriors. You arrived just in time to watch Eivor step on solid ground after all the others had already gotten on their way to the longhouse, surrounded by the singing and cheering people who had waited for them all day.

The blonde she-wolf looked exhausted but happy. The sight of her felt like a punch to your gut. She was covered in blood, her beautiful hair was dark and sticking together in thick strands, only her teeth flashing white in the light of the torches as she smiled at the few people left waiting for her.

“Eivor!” Sigmund greeted her, “You were successful!” They shook hands and hugged.

“Did you expect any less?” Eivor taunted him in her deep voice, laughing as he assured her of his confidence in her.

Her eyes brushed over Randvi and a strange expression flickered over her face, vanishing too quickly for you to grasp its meaning. Then her gaze met yours and again, she seemed to be fighting conflicting emotions. At last, she smiled and took a few steps toward you.

“Y/N! All your predictions proved true. You honored us greatly today.” She placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed as Sigurd and Randvi both turned to look at you.

“Is that so?” Sigurd asked with raised eyebrows. “Then it seems that thanks are in order. We shall prepare a welcoming ritual for you to become a member of the Raven clan, if that is your wish.” He gave you a respectful nod and left for the longhouse. Randvi lingered just a moment longer, looking you and Eivor up and down, then she followed him.

Eivor had moved on to greet Valka and this time her face showed nothing but love and warmth. She hugged the healer tightly and pulled something from her pocket. It was a set of long claws on a string. Valka’s face lit up.

“Bear claws! I thought there were no more bears in these lands.” She took them and held them up to her face, inspecting them closely.

“Oh, I suspect the same,” Eivor said, “maybe this was the last one. The Steward wore it around his neck. It didn’t bring him much luck.” She smirked, not knowing how terrifying she looked, drenched in blood and dirt and smelling like death itself. Valka seemed to notice the same.

“Eivor, I mean no disrespect, but… I think you should wash before attending the feast. For your own good and everyone else’s sanity.”

The warrior looked confused for a second, then she laughed out loud and looked at her hands.

“You’re a wise woman, Valka. I should do that.” Her eyes darted to you for a second, then she nodded and laid a fist on her chest. “I will meet you at the longhouse, then.”

You both looked after her as she walked up to her hut, then Valka gently touched your arm.

“Let us celebrate. There is enough time to worry tomorrow or the day after. I think you’re even well enough to have some ale tonight.” She grinned at you and hooked her arm under yours, then you followed the trail of noise to the feast.

The feast was already in full swing; there was a big fire in the middle of the hall and people were eating and drinking, singing and dancing and praising Eivor's warriors for their victory. You quickly found Sfáva, the old cook who greeted you with great excitement. She gave you both plates with meat and vegetables and handed you two clay jugs, which were quickly filled by a young man responsible for the ale barrels. You sat down together at the front of a long table, right at the foot of Sigurd’s table.

You felt Randvi’s eyes on you again, but you decided to simply not waste any more time worrying about her tonight. While you felt genuinely sorry for the heartbreak she had been through, it was not your fault and should not control your life in the clan. So you raised your jug to Sigmund’s first toast of many that evening and emptied half of it in one go. Valka laughed at you and you both dug into your meal, hungry from the long day of talking and worrying.

A murmur went through the crowd when Eivor finally entered the hall. She was all clean now, her blonde, wet hair shining in the light of the torches, a few fresh braids taming the warrior’s mane. She wore the leather pants and a tunic you had repaired and a grey fur cape was draped over her shoulders to protect her from the cold. Her father’s ax and a longsword hung from a belt around her hips.

Her eyes scanned the crowd and found you, your hand that was holding a spoon stopping mid-air as you froze under her gaze. She seemed to take a deep breath and straighten up before coming toward you. She stopped next to you and placed a hand on your shoulder. Her touch burned your skin through the fabric of your tunic, anger and passion, sadness and excitement fighting a battle in your stomach. You felt your blood rush to your cheeks as you looked up at the blonde towering above you.

“Enjoy your meal, Y/N. You deserve it.” She squeezed your shoulder and winked at Valka before turning around and joining her brother at his table, conveniently sitting just a few feet away from you and facing you directly. You just stared at the tabletop and tried not to choke on your food, downing another jug of ale to get yourself to loosen up.

After a while, Sigurd rose to give another speech, this time with and for Eivor at his side. He had already drunk a considerable amount of mead and was slurring his words ever so slightly, but he managed to stay standing up for the whole speech.

“My dear Ravens, my warriors, and my wolf-kissed drengr ! You have made me proud today, proud to call you my clan! I want to thank each and every one of you who fought bravely today.” He raised his drinking horn to each of the people that had been involved in the raid. “I’m glad that we did not have to give away any of our warriors to Valhalla at Fort Winton. Together, we shall make England tremble!”

He swayed slightly as cheers erupted around the hall and Randvi stood up, supporting him with a hand on his back.

“Let us not forget the people who made this possible,” he continued. “My beautiful wife, Randvi, helped plan this raid and made sure our drengrs were well prepared!” He opened his mouth to continue, but Randvi cut him off.

“I thank you, Sigurd, but it was not only me that made this possible. We have to thank the English girl down there!” She pointed at you. “Her willingness to betray her people and tell us everything about their weaknesses enabled us to slice through them like a knife through butter today. Thank you, Y/N!”

Even though most people around you cheered and clapped for you, you felt nothing but white-hot shame and anger rise inside of you. How could she disgrace you like this, after everything you had done for her? Valka placed her hand on yours and shot you a warning look. Eivor had stayed silent and you could see out of the corner of your eye that her hands were balled up into fists. You risked a look at her and she met your gaze, shaking her head almost unnoticeably and telling you without words how sorry she was for Randvi’s behavior.

As soon as everyone had gone back to eating and talking, Eivor got up from the table, shot Randvi an icy look, and vanished into one of the back rooms. Randvi seemed unnerved, shuffling her feet as she waited for the right moment to get up as well. When one of the warriors came up to Sigurd to ask him something, she excused herself and went after Eivor. You and Valka exchanged a look, then she nodded.

You got up, took your empty jug, and quietly made your way toward the back of the hall. Keeping your head down, you passed a couple that was already half undressed in one of the alcoves and a man sitting on the floor and sleeping upright against the wall, his loud snores muffling your steps. Finally, you heard voices.

“-was the truth! I don’t trust her after she willingly betrayed her people and neither should you!”

“Do not speak to me of betrayal!” Eivor’s voice was cold. “Ever since she arrived here, you have been on a warpath. Can’t you accept that something is not about you for once?”

“Eivor -” Randvi sounded desperate. “I don’t mean any harm, you know that. I just want to protect you. This girl, something is wrong about her. Why did she give up so easily?”

“Because her fucking master made her life a living hell, that is why! Here she finally had a chance to be treated with respect. But it seems you won’t grant her that, you won’t leave her in peace nor will you finally let me go!” Eivor kicked something and it crashed through the room. You pressed yourself into your corner and held your breath.

“Eivor.” Randvi suddenly spoke sweetly, her voice endearing. “Don’t act like you actually want that. We belong together, last night proved that yet again.” Eivor huffed at her words.

“Last night was a grave mistake. I was drunk and you caught me off guard outside. I admit that it felt good for the moment, but as soon as I left I knew I should not have given in. You have to accept my decision.” Eivor sighed. When she continued, she just sounded terribly sad and exhausted. “I do not love you anymore. And I cannot betray Sigurd any longer. Why can’t we part gracefully and accept that our time together has come to an end? Why are you fighting this losing battle?”

There was silence for a moment and you were about to hurry off when you heard a sob. Randvi was crying.

“I can’t, Eivor, I can’t lose you. You are the only person who has ever understood me, who has made me feel complete and made my life worth living. I am no one without you, nothing but an empty shell. I cannot bring myself to let you go. The pain of loving you is tearing me apart, but I still dread the pain of letting you go too much to loosen my grip.”

Your heart dropped at her words. She loved Eivor deeply, and she was acting out of desperation. That was why she had treated you like this. Eivor the Heartbreaker. Randvi’s crying sounded muffled now, maybe Eivor was holding her to soothe her. Then Randvi cleared her throat.

“I will try to treat the English girl fairly from now on. She has no idea what she stumbled into and it is not her fault.” A weight lifted off your chest at her words. “But Eivor, promise me this: do not make any rash decisions and be careful who you trust. Do not hurt me on purpose, I beg you. Give me time and stay by my side through this. I cannot live without you.”

When Eivor next spoke, she was also crying.

“Oh Randvi, what cruel fate have the Gods given us? I wish it was not so, I never wished to cause you any sorrow. I promise I won’t leave you, but I can’t be with you anymore. What happened between us is over and I sincerely hope” - she gasped for air - “that we can continue to be the close friends we always were. I don’t want to lose you either.”

You had heard enough. Slowly, you backed away from the dark room and made your way to Sfáva, thanking her for the great meal and filling up your jug. As you turned toward the open hall, you noticed that Valka was no longer sitting at your table and nowhere to be seen. You had a feeling that she had snuck away with her lover again and smiled into your ale at the thought. Looking up, you saw Randvi sitting down at the table again, her face turned away from Sigurd as she emptied her drinking horn in one swig.

You jumped when Eivor suddenly appeared next to you. Her eyes were glazed and her lashes still wet, but she tried to gave you a brave smile.

“How have you been, little bird?” The sight of her face and the hope in her eyes twisted your stomach and almost made you bend over in pain. You swallowed hard.

“Good. I spent the day with Valka. I’m healing.”

Eivor nodded and stared into her drinking horn.

“I just wanted to say -” she gave you a quick look, then she turned fully toward you. “I am deeply grateful for your help in this. We would have fought much longer and suffered many losses, had you not prepared us for this day. Thank you.”

She reached out a hand for you and then stopped, letting it fall to her side. Following her movement with your eyes, you suddenly noticed a fresh blood stain forming on her hip below her belt, hidden by the handle of the ax. You immediately forgot all your resentment and sorrow and stepped closer, lifting the heavy ax to inspect her side.

“Eivor - are you hurt?”

She gently took the weapon from your hands and let it fall back down, flinching when its weight pulled on the belt and pressed against her wound.

“It’s nothing, sweet Y/N. Just a scratch. The man that caused it paid with his life.” She took a swig of mead and looked around the room.

“They are celebrating my victory, yet I do not feel vindictive at all. Everything feels muted today.”

You were at a loss for words. What could you possibly say that would make her feel better without giving away what you knew? And after all, she had hurt you, too. So you just hummed in approval and shuffled your feet, waiting for her to say something.

The silence between you got longer and more uncomfortable until suddenly a younger member of the clan stumbled drunkenly toward you. Eivor caught him with one hand before he could land in your arms or run you into the ground.

“Get it together, Norvid,” she hissed and gave him a shove toward his friend that had come after him and was laughing loudly.

“Sorry, Eivor. Milady.” The drunk man bowed to you before his friend dragged him away. His words confused you. Milady? Was he mocking you? Was this the result of Randvi’s side blow against you earlier? You sighed and were actually thankful when you spotted Lewin, the butcher from Williamsburg that had taken up work here, too.

You excused yourself with a nod toward Eivor, then you rushed to join your old companion. He was happy to see you and introduced you enthusiastically to his new friends. He told you that Aelfric and Hal were at the stables to check on the horses and get their new dice game. They were going to be back soon.

When they returned, you all dutifully marveled at the board and dice the men had whittled themselves, then Hal explained the rules. After a few rounds, you joined in, too. To the other men’s surprise, you quickly got the hang of it and started beating them in every game. After you had made them get you more ale and stripped them of their coin and a small wooden bird Aelfric had carved today, you willingly backed off and watched the others play.

Even though you did not dare to turn your head toward the back of the hall, you could hear Eivor’s rough baritone a few times, then came her drunk laughter, getting louder as the evening progressed. The sound of it still stung. You wished you could talk to Valka about the conversation you had overheard, but she did not return. Maybe she had gone to bed; you knew she was not really a person for big celebrations.

You had eaten enough to build a base for all the ale you were drinking. Even though you felt a bit lightheaded, you were not even close to drunkenness. Years of drinking hard burned liquor with the other servants at night had built up your tolerance and you and the three others from Williamsburg could not help but laugh at the state some of the Vikings were in. Maybe you could try to make your infamous barley spirit and test its effect on a few selected warriors. Valka probably had the equipment needed for brewing more than just ale.

When you went to fill up your jug, you noticed Eivor talking to Sváfa behind the hearth fire. They were sitting on the bench and speaking Norwegian, a language that still had not opened its doors to you. They both looked up with an expression like you had caught them in the middle of something. You just smiled and shrugged, turning your back to them and asking for a refill from the boy at the barrel.

As you turned back around, Eivor was standing directly in front of you. You could feel her warm breath on your face, smelling of ale and the dried fruit she had been sharing with Sfáva. It made your heart crumble like burned coals. You could almost feel the pieces drop to the bottom of your stomach and disintegrate into fine ashes as you waited for her to speak.

“Little bird.” She was breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed from drinking again. “Can I speak to you in private for a moment?”

You nodded and she took your hand, pulling you with her into an alcove. Her touch sent shockwaves up your arm, fading away in the hollow of your chest where they only found the burned remnants of your heart.

“Y/N, I think I have made it obvious in the time we have had together so far that I have unusually strong feelings toward you. I was unsure of their meaning, but I know now.”

She swayed back and forth and had to lean sideways against the wall to still herself. Her eyes were glossy and almost blank, but a desperate desire was buried deep within them.

“Little bird, I cannot bear the moments in which you are not by my side. You are on my mind no matter what I am doing, even in battle.”

Her hand instinctively moved to the now big and visible bloodstain on her tunic. What was that supposed to mean? You spoke without thinking.

“Did the thought of me distract you from your task? Am I to blame for your wound?”

“Oh, Gods no. No blame lies with you. For anything.” She furrowed her brows, leaning closer.

“You are the reason I’m still standing. You brought me luck and glory today.” Her voice got quiet and she placed a hand on your good cheek. “You were sent to me by the Gods, it is meant to be.”

Before you could even realize what was even happening, her mouth was on yours. You were stunned for a moment, completely encased by her warmth and the softness of her lips. Slowly coming back to your senses, you placed your hands on her chest and gently pushed her away from you.

Her head fell forward and her mouth hung open. When she raised her head, she looked confused.

“Little bird…” she mumbled, holding onto your shoulders to stay upright. “Come to me…”

“Eivor, I can’t do this now. You’re drunk.” Your throat closed up and you were on the verge of crying.

Pull it together. Be strong! You took a deep breath.

“Eivor! We’re going to go back to your hut now and I’m going to help you to bed. Understood?” You gave your best commanding tone and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, supporting her weight with all your strength. “Come on, now.”

You stepped out of the dark alcove and into the hall. Most of the other people were just as drunk as Eivor, stumbling around or already sleeping on the tables. When you looked up to the front table, your eyes met Randvi’s. You could see the silent pain in her eyes. She held your gaze for a moment, then she nodded almost unnoticeably and looked away. Eivor the Heartbreaker .

You made it out of the hall without further distractions and met Lewin outside. He understood immediately and grabbed Eivor’s other arm to support her from the other side. The large woman was already half asleep between you. You steered her toward her hut and opened the door with your foot, then the two of you maneuvered her inside and laid her down on the bed. You thanked Lewin and he left for the longhouse again.

Whispering an apology to Birna, you pulled off Eivor’s boots and the fur that was fastened around her shoulders before covering her with a thin blanket. What now? Should you sleep here, next to Eivor?

You needed some space to think, so you slipped out of the hut again, Birna following you silently and vanishing into the bushes. You sat down on a tree trunk next to the cabin and hugged your knees to your chest, letting your eyes wander over all the wooden houses with their white roofs and the torches lighting the pathways. You could hear the laughter and singing from the longhouse in the distance, but the silence of the snow in the woods behind you was louder. It encased you and carried you away, finally granting you some peace of mind. After a while, the cat came back and jumped into your arms. You held her close.

This day had overwhelmed you with too many new ideas, stories, and possibilities, too much knowledge you did not know how to use. You and Eivor were destined to be together, you knew it and she felt it, too. There would be difficult times, this being one of them, on your path together. Eivor had to let go of Randvi irrevocably and Randvi had to step away from both of you. Eivor needed to figure out what she wanted and learn to express herself without being blackout drunk, to hold herself accountable for her actions, and to fight for what she wanted.

You did not know what exactly the future would bring, but for now, you decided to stay at Eivor’s side. Today more than ever she had shown you how terribly lost she was and how she longed to find and be found. Maybe you could pull her back on the path destined for her. She had given you a new life full of possibilities, it was only fair that you tried to help her find her way, too.

Pressing Birna to your chest, you got up and quietly entered the hut again. You placed your shoes under the bed and took off your coat, then you slipped under the heavy quilt and made space for the cat who curled up against your chest. There was love for you here. You would fight like hell to find it.

#eivor x reader #lady eivor x reader #eivor wolfsmal x reader #eivor wolfkissed x reader #eivor #lady eivor #eivor wolfsmal #female eivor #f!eivor x reader #ac valhalla #assassinscreedvalhalla #assassins creed valhalla #fanfiction #angst

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hufflautia · 3 years

Text

The Small but Quaint Room in the West Wing

Requested by @dreamerinthesun✨(2/2)

A/N: I titled this one because this is a full-sized fic and I really really like it. Even though I said I'd write a drabble or a ficlet for each request and keep it short and sweet. And then I go and write a whole ass fic. I knew this was gonna happen, it always does. ENJOY!

026: "People are jerks, but not you."

Slytherin ran into a room on the West Wing and shut the door behind her. She listened as footsteps stomped through the hall, holding her breath when someone stopped in front of the door.

"When we find Lestrange, I wanna be the one to hex her," the person said. Slytherin scowled when she realized who it was. Ehione, she thought bitterly. You couldn't hex me if you tried.

"And who exactly are you going to hex, Ms. Ephyx?" an ancient but firm voice said.

Slytherin immediately recognized the voice and winced. She was glad she was behind this door and not out in the hall.

"Professor McGonagall," Ehione stuttered. "You must've misheard, I said vex, not hex!"

Slytherin held back a snicker - she could envision McGonagall's reaction right now: an eyebrow raised, lips pressed together tightly.

McGonagall clearly didn't fall for her bullshit because the next thing she said was, "10 points from Gryffindor. Now come with me, Ms. Ephyx. And the rest of you, get back to your classes before I give you detention too."

"Too?" Ehione fumed. "Why am I getting detention? Slytherin should be the one getting detention, she cast the Leek jinx spell on me!"

Only because you were talking shit about my family! Slytherin thought angrily.

"Yes, Ms. Ephyx, I can clearly see that," McGonagall sighed. "Now please come with me, we need to get you to the Hospital Wing. If you aren't given the counteract potion soon, you could have leeks stuck in your ears permanently."

Slytherin bit her tongue to stop herself from bursting out in laughter and giving up her hidden spot. What a sight, she thought, imagining Ehione walking around with leeks in her ears for the rest of the school year.

Slytherin let out a small breath of relief when the footsteps began to fade away. She walked up the steps and towards the spot next to the window, the place she always sat when she came to this room.

^Visual of what the room looks like. ALSO DOES ANYONE RECOGNIZE THIS PIC ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

She gazed upon the Whomping Willow in the distance, deep in thought. It wasn't that she liked getting in trouble. The jinx just happened to spill from her lips when she overheard Ehione talking badly about her family. That prick deserved it anyway.

Slytherin stiffened when she heard the creak of the door and whipped out her wand, lowering it when she caught sight of the intruder. Well, maybe not intruder, per se. Hufflepuff sometimes came to this room too. While Slytherin used this place as a quiet room to think, Hufflepuff used it as a space to hang freely with his creatures. They found this room on their own but had never been there at the same time until one day when Slytherin found him sitting on her spot the day that they first encountered each other. She was a bit irked - after all, it felt like her sacred spot, and to have someone sit on it was...well, annoying. But soon after he chose a seat somewhere else, she warmed up to him; he had a quiet nature and sometimes would show her the creatures he was caring for, and that always put a smile on her face. Though Slytherin would never admit it, there were days in which she walked towards the small but quaint room in the West Wing with a spring to her step, looking forward to sitting next to the window with him and escaping their worries.

But today was not one of those days.

A crooked smile hung on Hufflepuff's lips when they met eyes. Slytherin wasn't in the mood to smile back, so she looked away.

"Hello," Hufflepuff said, taking a seat on the floor across from her.

"Hi."

Slytherin could feel his eyes on her and met his curious gaze with a glare. "What?"

Hufflepuff shook his head and looked away.

"Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes but decided not to press him further. She didn't wanna drive her one friend away. Could she even call him that? She certainly hoped he considered her his friend. She's snapped at him on more than one occasion, but it was never because of him. It's just that she usually came to this room when she was in a bad mood and she needed a place to think. But time and time again, he never snapped back. He just took it. And not in a "use me as your punching buddy" kind of way. It was like he understood.

"People are jerks," she said quietly. "But not you." Never you. "Why is that?"

He scrunched up his nose. "Are you asking me why I'm not a jerk?"

Slytherin would've cracked a smile if she weren't feeling like complete shit. "I'm rude to you, but you never talk back. You don't get angry with me when I'm testing your temper. Why? Someone with common sense wouldn't want to hang out with someone who's mean to them."

Hufflepuff stared at a spot on the wall in thought as Slytherin awaited his response nervously. Why did I say that? I basically told him, "Hey, it would be in your best interest not to be friends with me anymore"—

"I don't think you're mean." Hufflepuff meets her surprised gaze. "I know that you come here because this is a place for you to vent and calm down. Sometimes you take your anger out on me, but I know it's because of whatever you have going on, so I try not to take it personal. You're just angry. But not always. When you're in a good mood, you're funny and witty. And you're also my friend. So why wouldn't I want to hang out with you?"

Slytherin swallowed with difficulty. That was a lot to take in. Not only did he just admit that, yes, he considered her his friend, but he also knew her. He understood.

Hufflepuff seemed to sense that she was at a loss for words, so he pulled something from his pocket and presented it to her. Slytherin smiled and gingerly took the Niffler from him, her fingers brushing against the palm of his hand.

"How's the little guy doing?" she cooed, running her finger over the Niffler's fur as he scurried across her robe, searching for anything shiny. "Caused any mischief lately?"

"Unfortunately so," Hufflepuff sighed dramatically, his bright eyes betraying his mock annoyance. "He stole Slughorn's watch the other way. This little minx would've gotten me into detention if I hadn't stopped him and returned it without Slughorn noticing."

Slytherin hummed, watching as the Niffler tried to pull her house crest off her robe. She pulled him off and looked puzzled when she felt something in his pouch. "What's this?"

Hufflepuff frowned and took the Niffler back, eyeing the creature when he felt it too.

"What'd you take," he said lowly, to which the Niffler looked at him with a smile and a gleam in his eye. He arched an eyebrow and turned him upside down, shaking out the contents of his pouch.

Slytherin's eyes widened as Galleons and other golden items poured onto the floor. Watches, necklaces, and earrings scattered on the ground. Hufflepuff looked aghast while Slytherin doubled-over laughing.

"Where in the blazes did you get that?!" Hufflepuff demanded. "Now we have to find out what belongs to who and return it to them!"

Slytherin wiped at her watery eyes and said between laughs, "Don't worry, I'll help you."

Hufflepuff glanced at her and felt a laugh of his own bubbling in his chest. When a situation as ridiculous as this came along once in a lifetime, one couldn't help but laugh. And that's exactly what they did. They laughed their worries away in this small but quaint room on the West Wing.

Fin.

DID SOMEONE SAY LETA LESTRANGE AND NEWT SCAMANDER😩😩 Also did the bit about the "this is MY special spot" remind anyone of the tree spot in the slytherpuff series??

This is by far my favorite request - I didn't expect this to be so wholesome and cute. Hope you enjoyeddddddd<4!

In honor of this blog’s one-year anniversary, I am taking requests! Pick from these prompts:

#slytherpuff #slytherin #hufflepuff #harry potter #harrypotter #hufflautia headcannons #hogwarts #hufferin #slytherin and hufflepuff #hufflepuff and slytherin #slytherpuff friendship #slytherpuff oneshot #slytherin x hufflepuff #hufflepuff x slytherin #slytherpuff fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

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werejusttouchingeachother · 4 years

Text

Whipped

(d.ksoo)

Req: fluff + smut with Kyungsoo by @johnniverse Pairing: actor!Kyungsoo x baker!reader Words: 10,609k Genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut Warning: cursing, smut, mature Summary: Your close friendship with Korea’s favourite actor is suddenly strained when he begins acting strange after returning home. Three nights of disappointment and several drinks later, the memory of a rhubarb Eton mess lingers in the air as you find yourself finally seeing your best friend in a different light. Tags: actor!Soo, slightly chef!Soo, baker!reader, cursing, flirting, sexual tension and fluffy smut A/N: To the req, I hope you like it and it isnt too cringy lol, I always struggle with fluff. Also P.S, I’m never doing the fake texting image thing ever again, I had to use both my phone and laptop to edit/upload the pics in order and it was a pain in the ass especially for a fic this long (and on a side-note, props to all the text-message fic authors, this sHIT IS HARD JFC SERIOUSLY Y’ALL ARE AMAZING AND DEDICATED AF, I APPRECIATE THE EFFORT)

The smell of butter and dough that surrounded you usually helped calm your nerves but tonight could perhaps be the first time that was an exception. After all, it had been months since you last saw your best friend, Kyungsoo.

There weren’t many people around at this late hour of the night and you were thankful for the silence, for the peaceful atmosphere that was usually a rare occurrence at the bakery’s kitchen. Only when your nerves had crept into your worried thoughts as the silence prolonged had you finally scrolling to the playlist of soft instrumentals that you usually had playing at the bakery during work hours, letting the music fill the empty kitchen while you worked.

You hum softly to Billie Eilish and Khalid’s ‘lovely' as you place the tiny specks of edible gold foil atop the chocolate tart. Kyungsoo didn’t love the gold foil—he called it “too bougie”—but you knew that he didn’t hate it either. Besides, you couldn’t help the dramatic flair that you always brought to your desserts; it was what you were popular for, after all.

You’d met Kyungsoo as a customer at your artisan café almost three years ago when he’d dropped by late in the night to ask for a full-sized cake. You’d heard your co-worker Yixing apologetically inform him that there weren’t any such cakes readily available just a few minutes short to closing hours and that customers usually pre-ordered them in advance but you’d stepped out of the back-kitchen then to ask the desperate-sounding customer whether a red velvet cheesecake was fine with him.

You can still recall how you’d stumbled over your own words as your eyes finally fell on the late-night customer—Do Kyungsoo, the upcoming handsome actor who had swept over the nation with his popularity after his latest movie. Your first thought had immediately been, ‘Holy hell, he looks more beautiful than he does on the screen’.

It was only much later that you’d revealed to him that the original recipient of the cake was a little girl turning eight the next day. Kyungsoo had been stunned at the revelation and even to the present day, he still wondered why you hadn’t turned him away to find another bakery instead of going to the hassle of giving away a pre-baked cake that resulted in you pulling an all-nighter to bake another for the actual customer.

But how could you have refused? With his warm earnest brown eyes that reminded you of the pools of dark chocolate batter that you’d been whisking back in the kitchen, his cheeks that shone like freshly glazed pastries with the sheepish heart-shaped smile that put even the sun to shame, you couldn’t help but relent and give him the red velvet cheesecake that you’d been preparing for a client to pick up the next morning.

Although Kyungsoo had left in a hurry after accepting the box that night, he had visited the bakery around brunch hour the next day to thank you personally—and “properly”. Both of you had introduced yourselves and you’d been surprised at how down-to-earth and friendly he’d been, taken aback by his genuine interest in your bakery and all the desserts that you’d had. After conversing, there grew a mutual admiration—you’d never imagined that such a famous actor was also an incredible cook with an intense passion for food while having such an avid interest and genuine fascination towards your baking.

It had been the initial blossoming of a beautiful delectable friendship. You’d never thought you’d grow as close to him as you did but there was an instant connection after that first conversation at the kitchen of your bakery, a way in which both your personalities perfectly complemented each other and fit together just right. Of course, your mutual interest for food only fuelled the friendship further.

That was three years ago. Back then, it had started as a friendship but slowly bloomed to an unhealthy crush on your part. And who could blame you? Kyungsoo was unbelievably perfect—with his charming smile, his friendly and kind nature, his heart of gold and just by being an absolute sweetheart, you struggled to keep your emotions at bay as you got closer to him. He set the standard entirely too high and there was a small part of you that even blamed him for never being able to find a boyfriend. Every blind date and man that your friends introduced you to all paled in comparison to Kyungsoo, multiple meals and walks spent with them feeling extremely dreary when you spent the entire time drawing analyses of them in your mind based off of Kyungsoo as the yardstick.

However, it was a secret that you were certain you’d carry to your grave. He already had hordes of fangirls and half the country pining for him, he didn’t need to worry about you shooting heart-eyes at him too.

Besides, you cherished your relationship with Kyungsoo entirely far too much to risk losing all of it with a silly confession. You were close with his mother who called you more often than she even called him sometimes to chat with you idly about recipes, you knew how he hated parsley a lot more than he let on, how he’d admitted that your lemon meringue pies were his favourite dessert in the entire world and how he hated early morning shoots the most and could never get used to them no matter how many times he did it.

It wasn’t one-sided—he knew you like the back of his hand too. Kyungsoo knew about your coffee addiction that he always called unhealthy, how much you loved crafting recipes in your kitchen late into the night until you got it perfect, how you absolutely hated thunderstorms and could even tell whenever you were upset even from a mere text, prompting him to call you as soon as he could to talk about it.

It was too much to risk such a great friendship for a stupid crush. He meant too much to you which is exactly why you’d settled for never ever confessing to him.

You hum softly as you finally pulled your face away from the table, a satisfied smile coming upon your face as the finished tart lay atop the marble counter, gold flecks glinting in the yellow lights of the kitchen.

You picked up your phone then, frowning as you noticed the lack of texts. Kyungsoo had finally completed the premiere and tour for his latest movie, arriving back home early today morning for a well-deserved break, albeit short. You knew that his friends would most probably throw him a party—as per their tradition—but he’d texted you earlier that he would definitely drop by the bakery around midnight, at the latest.

Which was your tradition. He’d visit his mother, have a meal with his parents and then come straight to you, loudly yelling that you’d better have his favourite pies waiting for him, “or else”.

You stare at your phone, contemplating if you should send a picture of the tart and fully utilise his weakness for sweet treats against him but the screen suddenly lights up with an incoming message.

You sigh as you place your phone back on the counter and glance dejectedly down at the tarts. Pursuing your lips, you wondered if there was something wrong and if Kyungsoo was okay—it was the first time that he’d cancelled on your tradition of meeting you on the day that he got back itself.

He’s at home, probably well-fed, pampered and completely spoiled rotten by his mother so you decided to not dwell further on it. You place the tarts into airtight containers and placed them in the fridge then, yawning softly as you decided to call it a day and head home.

You were positive that you could see the colour red as you glanced at the clock hanging over the paintings on your wall, feeling more livid than you’d ever been.

It had been three days. Three days since Kyungsoo had arrived and your stupid “tradition” was in shreds—the both of you hadn’t met at all.

The day after the night he spent at his parents’ place, you waited for him all morning at the bakery before texting him. He’d called you immediately and apologised profusely, saying that he had to meet his manager at the company and that something urgent had come up. You’d let it go again but he hadn’t contacted you at all after that and you’d waited all day until finally calling him right before bed.

The conversation had been short, his words muted and seeming tired so you’d hung up without pressing too much.

But then you’d went over directly to his parents’ place yesterday. You’d been stunned to find that he wasn’t there, his mother cheerfully mentioning that he had left early in the morning “because of some work” and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’d lost your appetite. After stuffing yourself full with an entire lunch that his mother had not let you leave without, you’d called him. He’d apologised again, “another work thing” and finally ended the call after mutually agreeing that he’d come over to your place early the next morning, eat breakfast with him and heading back to the bakery later in the afternoon.

It was the next morning, the pancakes you’d made were cold and soggy now, the clock read 10:19AM and Kyungsoo was nowhere in sight.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” you hissed murderously, grabbing your phone and pulling up your messages to text him.

You shoved your phone away in fury, grabbing the plate of pancakes and hurriedly storing them back in the oven before grabbing the keys to your car and heading out of your apartment. You had half-a-mind to drive over to the company and ask his manager which goddamn hotel he was staying at before taking a deep breath, muttering a string of curses lowly to clear your head and pulling out of the parking space.

The entire day was a mess. Chanyeol, your commis baker, was surprised to see you head in earlier than you said you would, all of the kitchen crew and bakers flinching as you glared and yelled at them to get their shit together. You busied yourself in the kitchen, feeling Johnny’s wary eyes on you as you punched the dough like a possessed madwoman. Perhaps you weren't as good at masking your emotions as you thought you were, the entire staff catching onto the fact that their usually-cheerful patisserie chef was perhaps not seeing dough for fresh bread but instead visualising the mochi cheeks of the man whom Korea had lovingly dubbed as the actor with the most perfect heart-shaped smile.

Perfect, my ass, you thought derisively.

The day passed in phases. By 4PM, you’d baked way more puff pastries than necessary, waving off Chanyeol who meekly suggested to stop making so many since there was already a piling excess which would most probably be wasted if not sold by tonight. You told them all to just take some home, that there were your treat and involuntarily, your hands started to slow down as evening dawned, your upper arms beginning to ache slightly because you didn’t pace yourself in your rage.

You sighed as you headed to the back of the kitchen, walking through the smaller door that was alongside the pantry—a smaller space that was solely for you, a place that you lovingly called your own and was the birth of many of your sweet creations.

The anger shifted to the second phase in the evening, one that infuriated you more because at least you were productive with your fury. Now, you just slumped at the marble countertop while staring at the small fridge in the corner that still held the gold-leafed chocolate tart from two nights ago.

You sighed as you buried your face in your flour-stained palms. This has never happened and it was stressing you out in levels that you had never expected it to—because you’d never had a fight with Kyungsoo. Petty arguments, sure, but nothing that couldn’t be solved with his spaghetti or your macaroons.

Then again, he’d never been like this. Never had he avoided you, never had he cancelled multiple times on you repeatedly, never had he broke the sacred tradition of meeting you as soon as he was back. It had been too many times now to be a mere coincidence, he was definitely avoiding you. You could tell that he was lying and your anger from today morning had subsided to just an intense worry that felt like cramps in your lower abdomen, sighs falling from your lips as you wondered what was wrong.

You thought about calling his mother for a brief moment but you could already guess that she was just as oblivious as you, maybe even more. She hadn’t seemed fazed when you’d went over yesterday, hadn’t noticed the distress on your face as you realised that you’d missed him yet again.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on forever. Your limbs were sore and you knew your bed would be nothing short of welcoming right now but you didn’t want to go back home in a state like this where your thoughts would be louder than ever.

Around 9PM, you decided to call it a day and closed up early. You could see the relief in everyone’s faces, especially Chanyeol who looked like he wanted nothing more than to go home and pass out. Once the entire crew had left the bakery with a box of all your rage-fuelled treats—Chanyeol had been right, there had been way too many puff pastries, cake pops and enough cookies for the entire neighbourhood—you sat alone in your workspace with nothing but silence echoing around you.

Sighing softly, you stood up and connected your phone to the small Bluetooth speakers placed at the corner of the room, putting on your Coldplay playlist. You washed your hands in the sink before setting out to make the lemon meringue pie.

There was a reason why Kyungsoo loved it the most amongst every other dessert you made—it was your go-to dessert whenever you were upset. Although the recipe wasn’t challenging nor was it particularly difficult to make, it does require a lot of patience and dedication to get a flawless pie every time. Kyungsoo loved watching you create it; you’d lost count of the number of times he’d walked in to see you furiously whipping the cream filling for the pie. The amount of concentration it took at each step usually helped calm your nerves, distracting your noisy thoughts enough to focus on the dessert at hand.

Initially, you’d thought he called it his favourite only because he’d seen first-hand how much effort it took to bake it but then Kyungsoo had explained that he could taste the effort, that the tarty tanginess of the lemon filling which would first wash over his tongue slowly morphs into the subtle sweet aftertaste of the creamy meringue which was addicting enough to make you crave for more.

There was a small part of you that didn’t believe him when he’d said that and an even smaller part that had been too flattered to believe it, unable to even form a coherent response to it but baking the pie now made your chest ache as it occurred to you that it’d probably join the tarts in the fridge from two nights ago.

The lemon meringue pies tasted best when eaten immediately and he knew it—which was exactly why he often sat around to watch you make it.

You decided not to dwell on it. Once you were done with the pie, you’d call him one last time to ask if he could meet you wherever possible tonight itself. You’d use the pies as an extra leverage, perhaps as a ruse to just lure him out. Just so you could yell at him for being an idiot right at his face instead of at the phone.

You’d just lined the pastry base into the pan and chilled it for an hour before baking it in the oven while you whisked the lemon filling. The humming of the oven had involuntarily made your shoulders loosen up as you lost yourself in making the lemon filling and you were softly singing along to Yellow as it echoed around the small kitchen space.

The song suddenly stopped and your hands froze reflexively as you turned around to see your phone lighting up with an incoming call.

‘satansoo😈💕’

You dropped the whisk immediately and grabbed the dishcloth, wiping your hands hastily as you strode around the counter. You threw the cloth aside, hands still feeling slightly sticky as you grabbed your phone and disconnected the Bluetooth connection.

Your voice was slightly breathless as you finally answered, “Soo? Hello? Kyungsoo?”

There was dull music faintly thumping in the background but at a distance, as if muted. You frowned as the pause on the other side of the call lasted for almost three seconds before finally hearing an unfamiliar male voice.

“Hello? Y/N? Is this Y/N?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” you said loudly, furrowing your eyebrows as you felt a sense of dread creep into you. “Who is this? Where’s—?”

“You were the first on his emergency contact list,” the man interrupted, making your heart drop to your feet.

“What’s going on?” You asked hurriedly in a panic, your eyes widening as you felt your stomach twist. “Where’s Kyungsoo? Is he okay?”

“Ma’am, my name is Woo Shik and I’m the bartender at Club Exodus. Your friend is really really drunk,” the man replied, sounding slightly exasperated. “He came in around 7PM and got a room alone although we told him that he can’t do that singly but he insisted and said he’d even pay more for it. And now-now he’s just really drunk. He’s been yelling your name for the past half hour and crying something about rhu.. rhu something? Itaewon mess?”

“Rhubarb Eton mess,” you deadpanned, sighing. “I’m… I’ll be there as soon as I can. Could you just text me the address of the club, to this number?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll send the location right now.”

“Okay, thank you, I’ll be there.”

You hang up quickly and your limbs feel like they’re frozen, uncoordinated from your brain as you will yourself to move. You feel disoriented, a thousand thoughts flying through your head as you quickly pull off your messy apron and grab your phone. You don’t bother fixing yourself much, knowing that you probably smelled like fresh dough and lemons as you hurriedly shut off the oven. You pause as you notice the halfway baked pie shell, wondering if you should call Chanyeol and ask him if he could clean up in here as a favour.

The large grandfather clock in the main lounge area of the bakery suddenly sounded, echoing softly in the back-kitchen and you glanced down at your phone.

10PM.

He’s been drinking by himself for three hours.

“Fuck it,” you mutter, snatching the oven mitts and not even bothering to put it on as you use it just to shield your hand whilst grabbing the hot pie tray.

Your legs seem to move faster than your brain then, your body moving almost robotically as you threw the half-whisked lemon filling in its large glass bowl, the pastry shell and the cream for the meringue into the small fridge. It only held a few failed recipes and a couple of disfigured-looking pastries that you usually snacked on, along with Soo’s dark chocolate gold tart from two nights ago that you hadn’t had the heart to throw away, having expected him to walk into the bakery at some godforsaken hour and claim the dessert.

You felt a slight ache now as you stashed everything into the fridge, knowing how many ingredients that you’d just wasted because there was no way even you could resurrect or save this disaster after leaving this kitchen now.

Knowing that there was no time to regret it, you quickly cleaned up the counters and the rest of the workspace, grabbing your car keys and the lock to the bakery. You closed up the store and hurriedly got into the car, pulling up the location that the bartender had just sent you as you started driving to the club.

Your worry finally had a chance to fully materialise through the drive, your anxiety not allowing you to even play the radio as you raced to Club Exodus. It briefly occurred to you that there probably was a huge problem, something big that was worrying Kyungsoo if he was willing to go to the extent of booking a hotel room away from his parents and even avoiding you.

If there was anyone besides his mother who could read and see through him as well as she did, it was you.

God, Kyungsoo, what is going on?

You pulled up to the front of the club in almost half an hour, quickly jumping out and hurriedly gesturing to the car at the valet service guy standing at the entrance before heading in.

You approached the woman at the reception, your voice low as you asked, “I’m looking for Woo Shik? He’s with a friend of mine…”

“Oh yes, ma’am, hold on.” You weren’t even looking around the place, your senses almost numbed with tension as you followed the uniformed man to whom she gestured, one step behind him as he lead you away from what sounded like the main hall with its booming music that you could feel reverberating through the walls.

He showed you to a door and you could already hear Kyungsoo’s deep laughter even before entering. You pushed open the door and your eyes immediately fell on your best friend, his cheeks appearing redder than you’d ever seen them as he laid back on the black leather couches. A man in the dark burgundy uniform of the club who you assumed to be Woo Shik was trying to clear the table alongside the couch in a desperate attempt to save the bottles and glasses of alcohol from falling onto the floor.

“Kyungsoo,” you said flatly and Woo Shik looked up from the couch towards you, wide eyes filled with exasperation.

“Y/N?” He asked hopefully and you nodded, sighing.

“Did he drink more after we called?” You asked, stepping into the room fully and scrunching your nose in disgust at the way the place was reeking with alcohol.

“No, but he’d been chugging for a while and they’re all settling in now, I think,” Woo Shik explained tiredly, stepping away to let you walk around the table towards your drunk best friend.

You forgot what to even say as you looked at Kyungsoo who was giggling giddily on the couch, his eyes closed as his hands flailed mindlessly. He looked almost smaller in the way that he was curled up on the leather seats and you could see that he’d grown thinner since the last time you’d seen him. His cheeks were very flushed and that’s when you realised that this was the first time you’d seen him so shit-faced drunk. Of the both of you, he was the one with the higher tolerance and he’d seen you blackout drunk more times than you’d seen him in the past three years and it occurred to you that he must have definitely had way too much than usual tonight to be like this.

“Soo,” you heard yourself mumble, your hands reaching for his that were still blindly reaching for something in the air. His eyes snap open when he feels your hands clasp around his, dark shining gaze shifting towards you. You watch as his eyes widen and even before you can react, his grip tightens fiercely around your hand as he yanks you to him with a high-pitched squeal of your name.

You curse as you almost collapse on top of him on the couch, feeling his body beneath yours that was radiating so much warmth that you would have mistaken him to have a fever if it weren’t for all the alcohol lying around.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii,” Kyungsoo slurred, smiling happily up at you as he wrapped his arms snugly around your middle while staring down at you. You felt your heart slightly melt at his elated expression, your anger and worry momentarily dissipating as you gazed back into his shining eyes.

“Hi,” you replied softly, feeling almost shy from the way he was looking at you as you realised that Woo Shik was still in the room and probably waiting for you to collect the mess that you had in your arms who had caused him enough trouble.

“Okay, can you sit up?” You ask slowly like you’re talking to a child as you pull away enough to help him sit upright. He’s still gripping one of your hands tightly and you let him use your other arm as a support to pull him upwards slowly so as not to make him dizzy.

You look up at Woo Shik then, your tone apologetic as you ask, “How much is all of this?”

“He already paid, ma’am,” Woo Shik replied, shaking his head at you.

“Okay, I’ll just take him away then, I’m so sorry for the trouble,” You quickly say as you grab Kyungsoo’s arm and throw it around your neck. You put your own arm around his waist, holding him to your side while trying not to inhale the alcohol-stench reeking off of him. Woo Shik offers help but you shake your head at him as you help Kyungsoo out of the club. He suggests the back entrance then, mentioning that it’d be safer because of his actor status and quickly hurries to tell the valet to bring your car.

You manage, with much difficulty, to finally seat Kyungsoo inside your car and strap him in safely. Once he is settled, you sincerely thank Woo Shik for all his help and make a mental note to send him some treats tomorrow and finally get back into your car. After driving away from the club, you slow down at a secluded alley and turn to Kyungsoo whose head is turned to face the window.

You gently shake his shoulder, wondering if he’s asleep as you softly call out, “Soo? Kyungsoo?”

His eyes blink open slowly and he turns to you, appearing almost woozy. You watch then as his eyes widen and the same elated expression from earlier washes over his face, his arms reaching out to wrap tightly around your frame as he again exclaims, “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii.”

“Yeah, yeah, hi, hi,” you mutter, rolling your eyes in exasperation as you try to pull away from his death-grip. Any other time, you’d have been taking videos of him like this to use as precious blackmail later.

“Soo,” you call out his name again as you try to get his attention on you. Once he is blinking at you while still grinning like an idiot, you enunciate slowly, “Your hotel. Where is it? Which hotel are you staying at?”

Kyungsoo blinks incomprehensibly and you see his grin widen, mouth opening excitedly to squeal your name again and you manage to grab his arms, stopping him from hugging you yet again.

“Kyungsoo!” You call out loudly, watching him flinch and you instantly lower your tone as you slump back in your seat while staring at him helplessly. There was no way you could take him back to his parents’ place when he was like this and you knew that his mother didn’t know the hotel that he was staying at either since she hadn’t mentioned it the last time.

Sighing, you turn with resignation towards the steering wheel and start up the car again, deciding to just take him home.

It wasn’t like he’d never been to your place before—he’d slept over on your couch multiple times but this would be the first time that he’d be doing it when absolutely wasted.

Kyungsoo hums softly beneath his breath as you drive and you’re quiet, listening to him as you chew on your lip nervously while wondering if you should talk to him. You knew he was drunk as hell and by the state that he was in, you guessed that his chances of remembering any of this tomorrow morning would probably be extremely low.

You decided to risk it.

“Soo,” you started tentatively and you were surprised when the humming stopped, knowing his attention was on you. You clear your throat before asking slowly, “Why didn’t you meet me?”

He frowns and you can hear the pout in his voice as he slurs, “Because you’re an idiot.”

You turn to look at him in amazement, eyes wide at the stupid response. “What?”

You turn back to the road as he continues, “It’s true. My mother says so too.”

“Your-your mother?” You sputtered, feeling more confused by the second. What the hell is he talking about? “She said not to meet me because I’m an idiot?”

“Nooooooooo,” Kyungsoo whined and you noticed him shift in his seat slightly from your peripheral as he explained, “I decided not to meet you. Mom told me that I’m an idiot. I think you’re the idiot but Mom says it’s me.”

You should just pull over and leave him on the roadside.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remain calm as you reminded yourself to treat him like a child. He is a child and you need information so you tried again, slowly asking, “Why are we idiots?”

There’s a pause then and Kyungsoo mumbles something in reply, incoherent again.

You slow to a stop at the red light as you turn to face him fully now, squinting at him. “What? Why are we idiots, Kyungsoo?”

“Because I like you,” Kyungsoo sighs loudly and your eyes widen then, heart jumping to your throat.

Everything freezes around you and you stare at him, certain that you’d heard wrong as he leans back against the headrest, sighing dramatically again as he softly explains, “I’ve liked you for a long time but you’re an idiot to never see it. Mom told me I’m the idiot for never telling you but you’re the idiot for never seeing the signs.”

“S-signs?” You repeated, your voice cracking in your throat. Your heart is pounding in your ears as you ask quietly, “What signs?”

Kyungsoo sighs again, longer this time and you’re almost tempted to grab him by his shoulders and shake him angrily to get him to speak faster. You felt like you were going to be sick and this idiot was putting on the show of his life, acting dramatically like his rent was due the next morning.

“Sooooooo many signs, Y/N,” he slurs your name, dragging his words tiredly as he turns to you. He faces you and pouts childishly as he asks, “You think I run to all my friends’ arms whenever I come home on break? You think I cook with parsley which I hate with all my heart for anyone else? It’s only for you, because of how much you love it on your spaghetti. Most of my friends don’t even know I cook. I never even had a thing for sweets until you and I told you that but you’re an idiot. You thought its cause I love everything you make that much but that’s only a part of it. You idiot.”

You stare at him speechlessly and jump when you hear a loud honk behind you. Dazed, you look ahead and realise the traffic lights had changed to green, slowly prompting you to shift the gear and start driving again as the cars continued honking noisily behind.

You swallowed loudly, hearing an internal screaming in your head as you tried to gather your thoughts and process the words you’d just heard. You’re about to ask more, you don’t even know what, when you hear him murmuring softly again. You catch the word ‘rhubarb’ and start to ask why he kept ranting about your Rhubarb Eton mess custard and that’s when it suddenly hits you.

The last time that he’d come home for break, the time that he’d spent with you before leaving for the movie that he’d just finished shooting, you’d made him the Rhubarb Eton mess custard. The call to travel to Japan had been abrupt, causing him to have to leave on short notice and he’d spent the night before his flight with you at the bakery. It was after working hours, close to midnight and you’d been experimenting and crafting desserts with rhubarbs since they were in-season and had whipped up the Rhubarb Eton mess custard quickly just for him.

He’d watched you in his usual seat opposite the counter as you made it and after having his first spoon, he’d scooped a spoonful of the creamy custard and fed it to you. After taking the bite, however, the blood-red juice of the rhubarb had stained your lips with a bit of the whipped cream at the edge of your mouth.

Kyungsoo had reached out almost reflexively, his thumb swiping against your lip and you’d gone still, both of your gazes locking as you’d felt the atmosphere shift. You thought it had only been in your head, that it had only been you wondering what the expression on his face would be if you leaned forward and sucked the cream from his thumb, if his eyes would dilate watching your lips wrap around his digit the way that you were sure your eyes had when his hand had reached towards your mouth.

You could still recall how terse the silence had been then, both of you in a silent stare-off as you waited for the other to make a move and Kyungsoo had finally broken the moment by retrieving his hand, flashing you an innocent grin as he licked the cream from his thumb and quietly finished the rest of the dessert.

Your heart had been hammering in your chest that whole night and you’d never even known.

“Oh god,” you breathed out involuntarily as understanding finally dawned over you. Kyungsoo had been humming beside you again but at your words, he went quiet and you continued, “The rhubarb custard. You’re talking about—”

Kyungsoo groaned loudly then, confirming your suspicions as he huffed in annoyance.

“I wanted to kiss you so bad that night,” he almost whined and you felt your cheeks reddening at his confession as he continues ranting, “You were just standing there with your lips looking all glossy and red from the syrup and that stupid whipped cream on your upper lip! I was already upset cause I had to leave you so soon and you were just standing there like an idiot and I just wanted to eat you instead of that damn custard.”

Holy fucking hell. “Kyung—”

“I’ve been whipped for you forever, Y/N,” Kyungsoo admitted, shutting you up abruptly. “I’m whipped for you like your whipped cream. Like your Eton mess. Like your perfect custard. Like your pies. Like—”

“Okay, okay, I get it, I get it,” you quickly interrupt him, desperately wanting him to shut up because you were certain that you’d cause an accident with the way your heart was pounding right now, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your thoughts were disorienting. You were driving mindlessly, taking longer routes because you didn’t how much longer this conversation would go, if it would last all the way to your apartment or if he’d sober up once he got home. You felt like you were dreaming, like this conversation was unreal and wondered briefly if you’d gotten drunk with him too back at the club and this was just some cruel dream.

“Why…” you croak and you clear your throat before trying again. “Why didn’t you meet me?”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“I swear to god, I’m going to—” You loudly inhale through your mouth, knuckles almost turning white around the steering wheel as you grit out, “Did. You. Avoid. Me. Because you like me?”

“Min Ah…”

He trailed off and you frowned in confusion, pausing as you faintly recognised the name. “‘Min Ah’? Jung Min Ah? Isn’t that your co-star for the movie you just did?”

Kyungsoo nods and he mumbles sleepily, “She said she likes me during the wrap-up party but I could only think of you. I didn’t want to see you until I got my shit together and sorted out my feelings because I didn’t want to accidentally confess to you.” He pauses then and you’re surprised when he lets out a loud humourless laugh. “Maybe I am the idiot.”

You hesitate before asking, “Why don’t you want to confess to me?”

Kyungsoo is quiet for a while after that and you glance at him, wondering if he’d fallen asleep but he appears to be deep in thought. His words are almost unheard as he finally mumbles, “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

You fall silent at his heavy words, the intensity of the underlying meaning getting to you as you feel something break inside of you.

You don’t say anything for the rest of the ride then and Kyungsoo dozes off, falling asleep cutely with his mouth hanging open as he lays his head back against the seat while you drown in your thoughts.

Regardless of your feelings and how much you liked him too, the words that Kyungsoo had just uttered terrified you. Friendships were stable, they endured even the ugliest of fights and lasted longer while relationships were fragile; one slip and you could lose Kyungsoo. He didn’t confess to you because he didn’t know about your feelings but now that you knew that he felt the same, you didn’t know if you were brave enough to take the risk.

It could be the end to something beautiful.

But it could also be the beginning to something more beautiful, a small voice in your head reminded you.

Or it could be the beginning to something even more beautiful that would soon reach its untimely but inevitable end and leave you with only heartache and the absence of a best friend that you’d have to burden forever.

You sighed softly as you finally parked your car in front of your apartment. You glanced at Kyungsoo and realised he was sleeping soundly, looking so warm and comfortable that it made you hesitate in awakening him. You got out of the car and walked to his side, throwing his arm around your shoulder while softly calling his name. He woke up enough to step out of the car and you helped him up to your apartment, panting by the time you finally reached your door.

You lead him straight to your bedroom, resigning to spend the night on your couch since you knew he could definitely use the entire bed in the state that he was in. You help him out of the thickly-lined trench coat that he was wearing, holding your breath to not inhale the stench of the alcohol as you decided to just throw them all with the laundry tomorrow morning.

You remove his shoes and pull off his socks but your hands hesitate mid-air before reaching for his pants. It’s not like you hadn’t seen his legs before or anything—god knows he’d helped undress you from uncomfortable clothes on multiple nights when you’d gotten too drunk—but your stomach was twisting now as if he was a whole new person who you were stripping.

God, stop overthinking it.

You force yourself to help him out of his pants, purposefully not letting your eyes go astray as you decided to leave him in the thin black sweater that he was wearing and his boxers. You grabbed your blankets and tucked it around him, smiling slightly when you notice Kyungsoo immediately snuggle to the warm sheets like a child, making himself comfortable as he closed his eyes.

You went to the kitchen then, grabbing a tall glass of water and some aspirin pills before heading back to your room. You’d just placed them on the small bedside table and was turning to leave when you felt a fierce grip on your wrist.

Your breath stopped in your throat as you looked down to see Kyungsoo holding onto you, half-lidded eyes gazing up at you as he whispered one word.

“Stay.”

You step towards the bed then, getting on your knees on the floor so that your face would be at the same level as his. You raised the hand that he wasn’t holding to stroke his cheek gently as you murmured, “Sleep, Soo.”

He was quiet, his eyes still dark and intense as they remained locked with yours. Your heart thudded as you briefly wondered if he’d come to his senses and if he remembered everything that he’d just revealed to you but then he opens his mouth again.

“Do you know something?” His voice is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret and you shake your head quietly.

“You always smell like the bakery,” he whispers, smiling softly in a way that made your heart ache. “You smell like fresh bread and sweet vanilla and strong coffee. You smell like happiness. Like home.”

A soft sigh of disbelief escapes your parted lips at his words, his eyes having closed off while he spoke as he slowly fell into deep slumber.

You were so goddamn blind.

“We’re both idiots,” you snort quietly as you gently loosen his grip around your wrist and walk out of the room.

But you decided to be the bigger idiot.

You heard Kyungsoo shuffling inside your room around noon the next day, making you glance at your bedroom door from where you sat on the couch.

The night had seemed to last forever. After putting Kyungsoo to bed, you’d spent the entire night tossing and turning on the couch restlessly. You briefly considered waking up and baking something or even heading to the bakery so that you could angrily complete that lemon meringue pie you’d left half-baked but your body was extremely exhausted and refused to even move. All the activities of the strenuous day yesterday had completely worn you out yet your brain refused to cooperate, unwilling to grant you the bliss of sleep as your thoughts grew louder with each passing hour of the night. Kyungsoo’s words, his drunken confession all echoed like a haunting melody within your head, forcing you to reminisce and reassess every moment that you’d spent together, viewing it in a light that you’d assumed to only be exclusive to you but had perhaps been the same light that he’d been seeing you in as well.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You felt more conflicted than you did when he had stood you up and you began to wonder if it had even been a good idea to even go to the club last night.

Should you have even brought him back to your place?

You could hear the shower in your room then and you knew he was probably washing off the events from last night, the stench of all the drinks that he’d downed. You sighed as you grabbed his chopsticks for the Chinese take-out that you’d just ordered—both of your go-to hangover food—since you knew he’d probably be hungry. You hadn’t bothered with breakfast because you knew that he wouldn’t wake up by then so you’d just settled on brunch.

The door opens and your heart jumps as you look up, eyes locking with Kyungsoo. He’d found one of his tees that he’d given you—“you stole it,” he insisted—and sweatpants that he’d left here from a previous sleepover. He looked better than he did last night and you cleared your throat, ignoring the nervous flutter in your chest as you asked blankly, “How’s your head?”

Kyungsoo nodded, stepping forward into the room. “It’s a lot better now. I woke up in the night with a headache and had the aspirin before sleeping again.” He hesitated before murmuring, “Thanks.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why’d you drink so much then, idiot?” You snort as you start to stand up, grabbing your phone.

You gesture to the food on the table. “I ordered Chinese. Have lunch and take another aspirin before you head back… home. Or to the hotel. Or wherever.”

Kyungsoo frowned at you as you searched for your bag. “Wait, what? You’re leaving?”

“I have a bakery to run, Kyungsoo,” you snort, finding your bag and grabbing your car keys as you head for the door while muttering, “I can’t keep coming in late because of you—”

“Y/N, I remember last night.”

You stop, hand freezing on the doorknob as your entire body goes still. Your back is facing him but you can feel his gaze on your back, feel the weight of it.

Kyungsoo’s usual deadpan tone sounds more wry than you’d ever heard it then as he says, “I remember last night so you can stop faking it and talk to me.”

Shit, shit, shit.

You take a breath, forcing yourself to slowly turn around and face him. You relent, throwing the keys and bag aside, crossing your arms in an effort to not reveal the way that your hands are slightly trembling as you nonchalantly reply, “I’m not faking anything, Kyungsoo, I am very mad at you.”

He rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to answer but you cut him off by asking, “How much?”

His gaze shifts to you and you clarify, “How much do you remember?”

“Enough,” Kyungsoo replies, carefully watching you now. When you don’t falter, he concedes, “Enough to know that I confessed to you.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you uncross your arms. “Look, it doesn’t have to be—”

“Is this your answer?”

You stop then, looking up at him with wide eyes. You frown at the shift in tone, noticing the despair that he was trying to hide in his expression as you ask, “What do you mean?”

“The fact that you’re pretending that nothing happened,” he answered, stepping forward as he spoke. “The fact that you’re ignoring everything I told you last night. Does it mean that this is never happening? That you’ve never liked me the way I’ve liked you?”

Your eyes are wide, back pressed to the door as he stood in front of you. The words that you wished to respond—even though you had no idea what they even were—were stuck in your throat as you gazed up at him, your breath growing shorter as you felt him raise his arm beside you to place it on the door as if to cage you in.

“Y/N,” he whispered your name, his close proximity and husky voice making your head feel like it was going to spin. Your lips parted of their own accord, head slightly arching back to look up at him as his plush lips hovered over your own. His face was close enough that his warm breath was mingling with yours and you could smell the minty toothpaste—your minty toothpaste.

Your heart was hammering so loudly in your chest that you could hear it, your eyes greedily drinking in the close proximity as they ran over his face with enough scrutiny to commit every detail to memory—the way his long lashes looked against his pale cheek, the tiny almost invisible mole right over his upper lip and the way his eyes looked like they were shining from within as they gazed at you.

Your breath audibly hitched in your throat as he leaned his head slightly to the side, angling his lips to yours until there was only a fraction of space between your mouths. You held your breath as he murmured, the words brushing against your parted lips, “Stop me, Y/N.”

And then Kyungsoo was kissing you.

Your eyes seemed to refuse to close, your body frozen like a statue and your arms were immobile at your sides as you felt his plush lips press against yours. It was light, hesitant and tentative like he was waiting for you to shove him off any second but you could feel the blood pounding through your head and coursing within every vein at that moment.

Fuck it.

You raised your hands tentatively, closing your eyes and almost collapsed back into the door as you started kissing him back. You felt Kyungsoo move his hand from the door then to gingerly place it on your hip and his other hand took your raised one that was hovering between your bodies to place it on his shoulder.

You made a soft sound of approval as you finally melted into the kiss, closing your eyes and digging your fingers into his shoulder to kiss him harder. Kyungsoo grabbed you by your hip then, holding you flush against him as he started kissing you more passionately while you dropped cupped his face with both your hands. You traced your tongue over his lower lip slowly and he was instantly parting his lips, slipping his own tongue into your mouth. Your guess was right earlier, you could taste the mint and as corny as it was, it had never tasted sweeter.

The kiss grew tender as he realised how breathless you seemed to be getting, both of your pulling away slightly while smiling against each other’s lips. Your eyes fluttered open to see Kyungsoo was smiling so hard that his eyes had become little crescents as they looked at you.

“You didn’t stop me,” Kyungsoo breathed out, sounding incredulous enough that you let out a soft laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated his words from last night, thumb stroking his cheek affectionately before correcting, “Well, we both are. I wouldn’t have stopped you ever, Soo.”

He pauses, gaze shifting from both your eyes as he asks quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For the same reasons you didn’t,” you replied with a sheepish smile. You suddenly grin with the memory of last night as you say, “If only you told me earlier, I could have said that I’m whipped for you too.”

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows furrowed at that, nose scrunching cutely in confusion as he repeats, “Too?”

“You said last night that you’re whipped for me like whipped cream. That you’re whipped like my Eton mess, like my pies, like my custard—”

“Oh my god, stop!” Kyungsoo buried his face in the crook of your neck in embarrassment, making you burst out laughing aloud as you fully wrapped your arms around his back and held him to you. His voice was muffled as he mumbled, “Most of those things aren’t even whipped.”

“I know!” You laughed again and pulled him away enough from you to look at his face. His cheeks were faintly rosy and it reminded you of last night again.

His voice is grumpy as he asks, “What else did I say last night?”

“A lot of things,” you teased, grinning as you kissed the corner of his mouth. “Enough to torture you for at least a decade.” You gasp exaggeratedly, raising your voice dramatically as you wonder aloud, “Who would have ever thought that Korea’s favourite actor Do Kyungsoo who has an internal breakdown every time he has to do aegyo and act cute was actually so cheesy and corny? That he would look me in the eyes, with his chest out while proudly saying that he is whipped for me like my whipped cream, that he would rather eat me than my custard—”

Kyungsoo grabbed your face then and shutting you up by kissing you again. You grinned against his mouth as he wrapped his arms fully around your waist, lifting you up against the door so that your legs curl around his lean hips.

“Aren’t you hungry?” You murmured into the kiss.

“Yeah, for you,” he countered, kissing your jawline. His husky voice right in your ear made the small hairs on the back of your neck rise as he groaned, “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do this?”

“Mm, show me,” you hummed, taking his face into your hands again as you kissed him harder. You thought Kyungsoo would lead you to the couch but he carries you to your bedroom instead, laying you down on the edge so that your legs are hanging off the edge of the bed. You blink up at him, pouting slightly as you clutch the front of your shirt—his shirt. Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow then, smirking slightly as he asks, “In a hurry, are we?”

“You think you’re the only one who’s been waiting forever?” You retort, using your elbows to push yourself back further up the mattress. You grab his hand and yank him harshly towards you, making him stumble slightly as he almost fell over your body while you started lifting his shirt off of him.

Kyungsoo raises his arms, helping you pull off the thin shirt and you immediately grab his shoulders, pushing him onto the bed beneath you. He blinks up at you in surprise as you throw your leg over his waist to straddle him, his gaze questioning as he looks at the blouse that you still had on.

“I’m going to be so late for work,” you muttered, pulling the blouse off your neck and throwing it across the room as Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at you.

“Chanyeol can hold the fort down for one day, Y/N,” he snorts as he sits upright against the headboard to grab your hips and seat you on his lap properly. You feel the growing bulge beneath his sweatpants brush against your clothed core and your lips part open of their own accord, making him smirk almost dangerously at you as he murmurs, “Has anyone told you that you’re a workaholic, babygirl?”

The word is so foreign from his lips, his expression so foreign yet familiar as he gripped your hips tightly to adjust you right over the tent in his pants. He leans forward and kisses you with an almost vehement fervour, trailing his hungry mouth over your cheeks, jawline and down the curve of your neck. You sigh softly, eyes closing and head arching back as you feel his plush mouth suck on the sensitive soft spot on your throat, his tongue licking incessantly.

Kyungsoo’s hands move almost unnoticeably, curving around your back to unclasp your bra as he marks up your neck. There’s a fire coursing through your body, making you feel as if you’d been plugged into a circuit—every place on your body that he was touching; his lips, his fingers, his firm thighs spread beneath your own, his warm breath were all sending crackles and tingles of electricity through your veins.

You could feel the outline of his hardness against your thin shorts now, your wet heat pressed right up against him and his fingers expertly pull the bra off your body. His cool fingers are cupping your breasts then, thumbs stroking your nipples experimentally as he teasingly thrusts his hips up into you.

A loud moan leaves your lips unintentionally at the sparks of arousal ignited by his touch and your eyes snap open as you hear yourself, feeling Kyungsoo still slightly beneath you at the very porn-star-like noise that you’d just made.

He pulls away from your neck to look up at your wide eyes and you’re already opening your mouth to apologise, feeling the embarrassment swallowing you but he grabs the side of your neck then, kissing you fiercely.

“You sound so fucking beautiful,” he groaned huskily, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead against yours, his voice a breathy whisper as he said, “To think that I could have been hearing those moans all this time.”

Your heart swells with an emotion that you can’t quite describe, an overwhelming need to feel as much of him taking over your senses as you crash your lips to his heatedly. Kyungsoo responds immediately, kissing you back just as hard as his fingers continue playing with your breasts and tweaking the nipples while you moan just for him.

Your own hand that had been on his chest lowers down his torso and slips underneath the elastic band of his sweatpants. Your fingers immediately wrap around his length, eliciting a groan at the back of his throat as you smile into the kiss while stroking him up and down.

Lips latching onto the spot beneath his ear, you kiss and suck at the skin gently while pressing him back against the headboard. Teasingly, you explore his length leisurely with your hand and feel the way that it is already slick with pre-cum, using your thumb to spread the fluid around the slit.

You gasp against his neck when his hands tighten harshly around your breasts, fingers squeezing your nipple roughly enough that you felt it all the way in your throbbing pussy. Quickening the pace of your wrist, you continue circling the soft bulbous head of his dick with your thumb while he gropes your breasts. You pull away then to look at him, watching the way his chest heaves with the movement of your hand and his eyes flutter dazedly at you.

His gaze is unfocused and you lean forward then, kissing him as you start stroking his length with repeated up-and-down motions. Kyungsoo grabs your wrist then, stopping you and he pulls away from your mouth enough to say, “You’re going to make me cum like this.”

Kyungsoo’s hands find your hips then, tugging at the black shorts that you had on and you let him slip his hands beneath the waistband, pulling both your shorts and panties down your bare thighs. You raise your ass off his lap and yank the material from around your ankles hurriedly before straddling him again.

You grab his erection then, holding your breath and watch Kyungsoo’s face, noticing the awe on his face as you rub his head over your slit that was glistening with arousal.

“Oh fuck,” he curses lowly as you guide his dick inside you, the head parting open your dripping slit and your eyes were already fluttering at the immense pleasure you felt with just his tip inside you. You didn’t even realise the way you’d been whimpering until Kyungsoo shifts his gaze higher to watch your face, staring at you as you arched your head back while slowly pushing yourself down onto his length.

Your free hand is on his shoulder, his own wrapped around your wrist as you whimpered his name breathily when you feel his thick length stretching your tight walls open in the most pleasurable way. Kyungsoo’s arms wrap around your waist then as you begin moving up and down on his lap, riding his dick at an already speedy pace while you felt your lower abdomen tighten with arousal.

His plush lips latched onto your breast then and you moaned loudly, grabbing the back of his head and holding it to your chest as he sucked your nipple into his warm mouth. The wet warmth of his tongue and lips, along with the way his dick felt inside you as the tip brushed against your clit with every movement you made all had you soon trembling on his lap as you tried to reach both your highs.

Growing impatient, Kyungsoo grabs your hips then and pulls you off of his length, making you gasp at the sudden feeling of emptiness, your walls desperately clenching around nothing. He shifts you around so that you’re lying back on the mattress, hands quickly removing the sweatpants that he still had on before crawling back atop you and spreading your legs wide.

His eyes are dark and heavy as they watch your face clearer then, memorising the way your lids flutter when he pushes his dick into your throbbing wetness again. You mewl softly as he fills you up again, already addicted to the way he feels inside you as you wrap your arms around his back.

You don’t get a moment longer to relish in the feeling as Kyungsoo immediately starts moving his hips at a quick and snappy pace against you, thrusting into you roughly enough that you can hear the echoes of skin slapping against skin. The wet squelching noises of your core become louder with every thrust, your walls tightening with the looming orgasm as he fucks you and you don’t realise how loud you are until he lowers his face to your chest.

Walls clenching around him tightly as if to suck him inside you, he groans at how utterly tight you feel as he thrusts faster. Your pussy convulses as his teeth sinks into your sore breast, Kyungsoo realising how sensitive you are over there by the way your body instantly reacts to him as you feel yourself finally fall off the edge.

Your nails are digging into his back and you groan as Kyungsoo’s hips stutter against yours, the rapid way that your pussy clenches and unclenches around him as you cum setting off his own orgasm. You gasp as you feel his warm heat flood into your slickness, filling you up as he continues sloppily thrusting to draw out both your orgasms.

You’re whining his name into his flushed neck as you slowly come down from your high, hand lowering to the small of his back as he collapses on top of you. He buries his face in your shoulder, breathing hard as you wrap your other hand around the back of his head while trying to catch your own breath. Feeling him soften inside you, he begins to pull away slightly but you wrap your leg around him and push him to his side so that he is still inside you with your body still pressed up against him.

You’d always thought Kyungsoo looked beautiful but you don’t think you’d ever seen him as radiant as he was right now, basking in a post-orgasm glow as he smiles at you. His gaze is filled with so much warmth and affection, the same expression that he’d had yesterday at the club when he’d first seen you and you feel shy all over again.

“Hi,” you mutter embarrassedly and Kyungsoo laughs softly, nudging your nose with his own.

“Hi,” he teases back, grinning.

He wraps his arm around your waist then, pulling you to his chest and you snuggle in that familiar warmth, smiling when you feel him bury his nose in your hair and inhale, remembering his drunken words from earlier.

‘You smell like happiness. Like home’.

You tightened your arms around Kyungsoo then, finally being able to realise the emotions that you always felt around him, that you always felt with him and that you felt now when you held him. The way that your heart had always swelled with every touch and gaze of his, that indescribable happiness that took over your entire body every time that he came back from a shoot and you had your arms around him again.

Best friend or boyfriend, Kyungsoo was your happiness.

He was your home.

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scotianostra · 3 years

Photo

On January 30th 1649 King Charles I was executed.

If you have been following my posts you will know that the Scots were instrumental in helping Cromwell win the English Civil war, and indeed it was our General Alexander Leslie that the king surrendered to, he later "sold" him back to the English, they didn't expect them to take his head though, after all Charles was still a Scottish Stuart king and no consideration to this was sought by the Parliamentarians. .

Once again I will refer to contemporary sources, I love these accounts it brings history alive for me and I can imagine being in the crowd at the time, it tells us of a bitterly cold January day. Charles was wearing two heavy shirts so that he might not shiver in the cold and appear to be afraid. The following details of the event comes from an anonymous observer and begins as the doomed King addresses the crowd from the scaffold:

"[As for the people,] truly I desire their liberty and freedom as much as anybody whomsoever; but I must tell you that their liberty and freedom consist in having of government, those laws by which their life and their goods may be most their own. It is not for having share in government, sirs; that is nothing pertaining to them; a subject and a sovereign are clear different things. And therefore until they do that, I mean that you do put the people in that liberty, as I say, certainly they will never enjoy themselves. Sirs, it was for this that now I am come here. If I would have given way to an arbitrary way, for to have all laws changed according to the power of the sword, I needed not to have come here; and therefore I tell you (and I pray God it be not laid to your charge) that I am the martyr of the people. . ."

And to the executioner he said,

'I shall say but very short prayers, and when I thrust out my hands - ' Then he called to the bishop for his cap, and having put it on, asked the executioner, 'Does my hair trouble you?' who desired him to put it all under his cap; which, as he was doing by the help of the bishop and the executioner, he turned to the bishop, and said, 'I have a good cause, and a gracious God on my side.' The bishop said,

'There is but one stage more, which, though turbulent and troublesome, yet is a very short one. You may consider it will soon carry you a very great way; it will carry you from earth to heaven; and there you shall find to your great joy the prize you hasten to, a crown of glory.'

The king adjoins, 'I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown; where no disturbance can be, no disturbance in the world.'

The bishop: 'You are exchanged from a temporal to an eternal crown, - a good exchange.'

Then the king asked the executioner, 'Is my hair well?' And taking off his cloak and George [the jewelled pendant of the Order of the Garter, bearing the figure of St. George], he delivered his George to the bishop. . .

Then putting off his doublet and being in his waistcoat, he put on his cloak again, and looking upon the block, said to the executioner, 'You must set it fast.'

The executioner: 'It is fast, sir.'

King: 'It might have been a little higher.'

Executioner: 'It can be no higher, sir.'

King: 'When I put out my hands this way, then - '

Then having said a few words to himself, as he stood, with hands and eyes lift up, immediately stooping down he laid his neck upon the block; and the executioner, again putting his hair under his cap, his Majesty, thinking he had been going to strike, bade him, 'Stay for the sign.'

Executioner: 'Yes, I will, and it please your Majesty.'

After a very short pause, his Majesty stretching forth his hands, the, executioner at one blow severed his head from his body; which, being held up and showed to the people, was with his body put into a coffin covered with black velvet and carried into his lodging.

His blood was taken up by divers persons for different ends: by some as trophies of their villainy; by others as relics of a martyr; and in some hath had the same effect, by the blessing of God, which was often found in his sacred touch when living."

The executioner silently held up Charles' head to the spectators. He did not utter the customary cry of "Behold the head of a traitor!" either from inexperience or fear of identification, he was never identified.

I will leave it to Monty Python to provide a wee bit levity to this post for an epitaph on Charles I....

“The most interesting thing about King Charles the First is that he was five foot six inches tall at the start of his reign, but only four foot eight inches tall at the end of it.” The first pic is a bust of Charles is on the wall outside the Banqueting Hall at Whitehall, London near the spot of his execution, and today as is usual supporters of the Stuart King will no doubt lay flowers there. It sits there above a since blocked off doorway staring at his nemesis across the road, the Houses of Parliament, next pic is the warrant for his execution, signed by 59 commissioners, i.e judges, each and every one were the subject of punishment following the restoration of the monarchy in England in 1560.

With the return of Charles II, Parliament passed the The Indemnity and Oblivion Act, a general pardon for almost everyone who had committed crimes during the Civil War and Interregnum. Of those who had been involved in the trial and execution, 104 were specifically excluded from reprieve, although 24 had already died, several of them, including Cromwell had their bodies exhumed and were given a posthumous execution! They were hanged and beheaded, and their bodies cast into a pit below the gallows. Their heads were placed on spikes at the end of Westminster Hall. Several others were hung, drawn and quartered, , while 19 were imprisoned for life. Property was confiscated from many, and most were barred from holding public office or title again. Twenty-one of those under threat fled England, mostly settling in the Netherlands, Switzerland and some making it as far as New England.

Next pic is one of the shirts worn by Charles I for his execution, the other pic is of the Execution itself, although it is not historically accurate, as, like I posted above, the executioner wore a mask.

#scottish #the stewarts #the stuarts #regicide #execution #history

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1000-directions · 3 years

Text

good stuff 7-11-21

i was going to say today was kind of a chill and lazy day, but i actually got a decent amount done? but it still felt chill which is incredible?? i started off with an iced latte and avocado toast, and it was just perfect and so satisfying, breakfast on the weekends is my absolute favorite thing. i can’t wait for things to settle down a bit more so i can force my friends to meet me for BRUNCH holy fuckin shit i miss brunch.

i met up with my coworker suuuuuuuuuper briefly to split up our farm box and i got to keep the corn!! i have three ears, what should i do with it???

i ate a really good nectarine today, my first stone fruit of the season! i am so excited for my peaches to get ripe, and i am double extra excited for PLUMS i can’t wait to get some good plums.

after soooo much procrastinating, i hung up three more pictures on my walls! really just one more to go. and i cleared out a bunch of boxes and mail and random pieces of laundry that had somehow all collected under my drying rack and had been there for so long that i didn’t notice them anymore, but i threw out a bunch of stuff and broke down boxes for recycling, and it makes a huge difference when you look at the room. it’s still like quite a ways off from being neat enough that i will let anyone come inside, but it’s coming along bit by bit.

i totally forgot that i bought a slice of cake yesterday!!!! and when i remembered, i used it to bribe myself to clean the kitchen and wash my hair. and when i was done, i got cake!!

last night really late i randomly decided i just needed to find someone to cut my hair already. the girl who used to cut my hair doesn’t do hair anymore and i’ve just been so lost about how to find someone new. but i found someone with cool hair and lots of tattoos and she has a lot of experience and has some short cool cuts on her instagram (every hairstylist i had been looking at just had dozens and dozens of pics of the same balayage like i get it but that’s not me). i think she just looks like someone i would vibe with, and she had a slot for tuesday night so i snatched it up. finally getting my hair cut!

i made lunch for tomorrow and picked out an outfit and packed up my work laptop, and i’m as ready as i can be to work on site tomorrow.

#good stuff 2k21 #little victories #food cw #coffee

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madmadmilk · 5 years

Text

One After The One PART 1 | Tom Holland x Reader

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: What does one in a million even mean? Does it mean you��re the first of many or the fucking last? Does it mean that you’re somewhere in the middle? And what happens to the poor baby who ends up being the 999,999th one? Or worse, the one after The One? There ought to be some kind of prize for second to last, and second runner up. Especially when being #2 is your specific talent.

Warnings: Cursing, Suspicion, some Hard to Swallow Pills, and a million blurry pics

Word Count: 6.7K swipes left

Special Shoutout: Thank you @hypnotized-so-mesmerized for being a BETA for this chapter and for you lovely input!

“I can’t fucking believe you’ve got me fifth wheeling for this….” you sigh, as you blow strands of your hair away from your face. You walk briskly atop of the shifting sand behind your leggy friend.

All 5 foot 10 inches of her shakes with laughter as she watches you trip over yourself. She shrugs, “The more the merrier?”

You roll your eyes, resigning to a smile as she waves back for your hand to hold. You reach out and accept her offer loosely, allowing yourself to be pulled along.

“Come on, the boys are waiting.”

Right.

You watch the festival lights cast a warm glow at the edges of her silhouette. She smiles at you, bronzed, beautiful–– taken.

Over the past year, all your best friends started fucking dating each other.

Leaving you single, alone, and second best.

It wasn’t weird, it wasn’t unnatural–– but it quite literally happened over night. “This” is just your “new normal.”

You all still hung out, together, mismatched or separately. Nothing has stopped them from asking you to hang out, but there are times where you feel… The Line.

It was Common Sense tingling and telling you that certain occasions were more of a “date-night” rather than friendly get together. And the last thing you wanted to be was a cockblock to your own goddamn friends.

Like tonight, you were tagging along to the late-night-end-of-the-summer beach bar hop bash, with your two pairs of your closest friends. Sam and Ry, short for Ryan. And Liza and K, short for Erik.

Then there’s you, of course.

The three boys were waiting with drinks in hand, while you and Liza took your sweet time climbing the sandy stairs. This was the usual ritual, but you stood alone when you reached the guys. They paired off, easily, naturally, sweetly.

The vibrating radio-centric music drowned out the sounds of the lapping ocean, the conversation you walked into was near unintelligible, and the crowd was excited about something.

God, I wish that were me.

There wasn’t anything wrong with going to this year’s beach bash, as you go to it as a group every year–– it’s just that this time they were holding hands and you were holding a drink. It’s more sour than you’d like.

You were fine coming out “alone,” but who wants to be alone?

You greet one another with warm hugs and Liza immediately dives into a rant about officially moving in with K, and about how he doesn’t wanna mix his laundry with hers–– all those new domestic nuances.

Sam rolls his eyes and exclaims, “Ry is the same fucking way–– like, it’s just cloth, babe.”

“Easy for you to say when all you wear is black––“ Ry retorts, pushing his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Everyone starts with a snickering laugh, clinking beer bottles and recanting similar experiences.

Tonight you just don’t feel like it.

Living alone and sleeping alone is one of your specific talents. It’s been nice to have your own fucking bed, your own fucking room, your own fucking space–– all of it to just BE your own fucking self, by your fucking self. You’ve been this way for twenty-odd years now (kind of, you know what i mean). Love and friends are welcome to hang out, but at the end of the day, the place is all yours. And yours alone. That’s what home means to you.

“–– But living together hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be,” Liza smacks her lips, looking down in short embarrassment. She leans back against K, “There are good things too.”

Sam is quick to point out their PDA, and you take another sip of your drink. You would have spoken up to contribute about your own experiences, once upon a time. But that’s a sore topic you’re not willing to relive on this breezy night.

Instead, you laugh along, crossing your arms while propping your elbow on the bar. You’ll let tonight be as rosy as it can be with no time to dwell. Your drink is near empty, consumed faster than you remember. Someone taps your shoulder.

“Hey.”

You blink dryly, resurfacing. “Hm?”

K is rubbing the side of your arm, those hazel eyes darkened in the low light. His dark brows were raised high, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” you answer easily. You hold up your drink, making a smug face and down it to his bemusement. You shake the empty bottle, setting it back on the table. “Always good.”

He nods slowly, looking over at the other three still gossiping amongst themselves. You couldn’t hear their conversation, but you can only imagining Sam and Liza were poking at each other by the way that Ry was smiling.

K swings his head back to you, “Wanna dance?”

“Sure.”

And you follow him, aware that, no, he didn’t want to dance. He wanted to talk.

You walk away with him, unnoticed by the others and tracing your finger across a brick wall. He stops, leaning against it and you do too. Looking over him, neat clothes and nervous face, you raise a brow.

“Sorry––“ he starts slowly, scratching the back of his neck.

“For what?” You laugh, scrunching your brows as you nod your head to the muffled music.

“This. It’s weird, right? Us. All of us, dating. That last year we were the ones single and you were––“ he sighs, pulling his lip to the side, “Last year was totally different. And now we’re all here, still together. Together-together.”

“Mhm, it was going to happen sooner or later,” you muse. K has loved Liza since Day One. And you and him have both known it, and what it means to him now. His dreams become reality every second that passes.

“Shut up,” he swats at your arm. You see the curl of his smile behind the embarrassment, “Nah. No. But this must be awkward for you, huh?”

You shrug. “Little bit. I’ll get over it, you guys are still my friends.”

His eyes search yours for the real truth. They were all so worried that them coupling up would ruin something, between themselves and with you. Ha. You told they they were stupid for thinking that. You believe in seizing the opportunities, in taking leaps and following your partner around the world–– in theory, at least.

They confided in you individually and you told them all the same thing. Tailored to their personalities, but in the same conceptual vein.

“If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, then at least you tried and you don't have to spend another day wondering ‘what if..?’”

And they bought it. Now, that being said, you already knew that they all fucking liked each other so–– push her and push him and push him and him, and things will fall into place.

It’s just that… the new thing is that you’re the one out out of the loop. You used to be the first to know but now you’re last to find out. And that is strange.

You’re not their number 1 anymore. And there’s nothing you can say about it.

“You’re still my best friend, got it?” K leans his shoulder on yours and you rest yourself against him too.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Today, but not tomorrow.

It’s hard not to be bitter, and it’s horrible that there’s no remedy for it. FOMO is a new-age disease, after all. No science to sort it out yet, no justification to satiate it.

“So…. You talkin’ to anyone? Looking?” He asks too casually for a question he knew you hated. He bumps elbows with you and shake along with it.

“Nope,” your mouth pops at the “p.”

He raises his brows again, and argh you hate that. There was always someone you were talking to, or someone you’ve been with. But not these days. These days you felt too tired to be someone’s ideal anything.

“There are some cute guys around, looking at you,” his eyes twinkle a little too brightly for a straight guy with horrible taste. (Facts backed up by Sam, Ry, Liza, AND personal experience) “Plenty of fish, yeah?”

You shake your head, not interested. Sex could come and go, infatuation could come and go–– but you’re kinda tired of the short stuff. But not exactly ready for a whole-ass relationship either. You don’t need to explain yourself–– you just know you wouldn’t last the night.

“Not in the mood,” you huff.

“Tonight,” he says suggestively, wiggling his shoulders.

You both laugh, you a little bit dryly. You try to direct his attention back to Liza and their budding romance, as the trio finds you guys again. At first they didn’t immediately stand coupled, Ry handing you a drink and Sam going to talk to K. Liza smoothed out her clothes and you all talked about some new plans. It was an honest good time. Ry spilled his drink on Sam, and complained about the laundry again–– Liza got waaaay too drunk and you and K were holding her in your arms while she staggered like Bambi.

It was nice and warm, and a lot like old times.

I missed that.

You felt yourself smile and let loose–– not thinking of old ex’s or new flings. Just about the friends before you and how safe they made you feel, and how happy you are to see them happy. That’s love, right?

“Oh my god, look!” someone exclaimed, pointing a finger at the sky. You hear a loud clap.

As the night faded and grew colder, fireworks erupted into the sky with a loud crackle. You guys squealed and ran to the top of a sand dune, tripping and tumbling to see the dying summer sights. The fizzing calmed your calls. It’s funny how loud fiery skies filled you with the same awe every time. How it quieted you and made you feel small.

The couples soon held each other, soft embraces with their necks craned upwards. Their eyes twinkled from bursts of lights, smiling at the sharp crackles of sound.

Tonight was the one of many nights they would be able to spend in each other’s arms, so far away and close to you all at once.

This was the line you were cautious about–– you couldn’t talk to them when they were like this, out of courtesy. Out of honoring their moment.

You stood back, watching their excited faces instead of the bursting sky. You felt it. Not jealousy or bitterness, but the awful choke of curiousity and selfishness. The “what if that were me?”

It’s been a while since you’ve had arms wrap over your shoulders and kissed your hair. Enough time has passed for you to forget what that felt like. Too long? What was that like again?

The finale of fireworks struck across the inky, dark sky. You inhaled the smell of chalky smoke, tasting the salt in the air. Lights and colors fill your eyes, unblinking.

You suck in your cheeks as it quiets and you can hear the ocean again.

And you let yourself think, I want that again.

So with a new pulse, you went home and did the only logical thing in finding the next Love of Your Life.

You downloaded Tinder.

You avoided “serious” dating and being a “serious” anything to anyone, but seeing that “seriousness” in your friends made you wonder if you could be anything like them. If you were ready to open your heart to the possibility of loving and being loved.

Seriously. Sincerely. No bullshit.

This time.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you messed around setting up a profile on Tinder. Regretfully spending way too long shuffling through old selfies that were engaging and enticing. You sigh as you pick through the lot, frustrated at the mind games that have already started.

It’s tiring.

And that’s probably why you end up cracking a few days later and end up telling Sam and Ryan. It was a short two word text, “Tinder. Help?” And you got a speedy reply from both of them (even when you knew they were most likely sat right next to each other). They were at your place in less than an hour.

Sam applauds your efforts, but is only there for moral support more or less. He’s an ace at the dating game, but has no patience to explain his ways.

“Typical,” You and Ry hum, as Sam rifles through your pantry instead.

Ryan, quiet as he is, sat with you and looked through the photos you choose. He broke down the psychology of it all; about the aloofness and whatever–– which you understood. You need to try hard, but not look like you are. Effortlessness, funny, chic, digestible, likeable––

“Performative.” He says flatly, “But this is fast and simple.”

And you have to agree, looking at your phone in his hands.

You blink as you reflect.

This is so much easier in fiction, in those movies where people go on a million dates in one week and match with the hottest fucking dudes ever. Where the protagonist has the perfect amount of self-confidence to keep her moving forward, endless chances to mess up and and still get the guy… God, it’s so easy on paper. There’s no dignity to lose. But here? In the “real” world, even on an app you could delete at anytime–– to put yourself out there? Mortifying.

But, at least you’re bored enough to try.

So, what the fuck, right?

“Did you tell Liza and K yet?”

“No, they would definitely try to set me up with someone real,” you laugh, leaning back on the couch. You wriggle your toes and tilt your head away.

Ry leans back with you with a brow raised, “Isn’t that… the point?”

Yeah, like, true. They have lots of friends they’re always trying to peddle your way, which is cool and all but… it’s a lot harder to pick and choose and ghost someone when you have mutual contacts.

He read the look on your face and nodded slowly, “Got it, got it.” He laughed to himself, perceptive and cautious. He extends his thoughts, “But you gotta tell us if you actually go and meet anyone. K would kill us if you didn’t say anything.”

“I won’t get into any trouble,” you squint, looking away from him mischievously.

“Uh-huh,” Ry affirms plainly as he swipes right on a few cute boys.

Your experience with dating apps was limited–– you made a joke account a while ago and never really did much with it. Then you had a more “real” account that you never tried sincerely with. You had real people you dated at the time–– uhm. But now, now that you’re actually on here looking… it is bleak.

It’s a Saturday night and you’re winding down with a glass of wine swiping through your options. People you actually knew showed up, and you swiped that shit away so fast you almost chucked your phone with it. You flipped through people who looked fake for real, some older dudes, and plenty of people with vibes you didn’t like–– the pool is so wide you almost didn’t know where to start. And you could afford to be picky, sure. It’s just, who knew that “too many options” would actually be a problem.

You spend the next few days idling checking and chatting, not getting any viable catches. You felt like you were just peering into small windows, head in and head out. Nothing caught your attention long enough for you to want to look in further.

You even start poking at things you never wanted to acknowledge as real, like the impact of cheesy bios, and deciphering who was who in group pics, and the thrilling amount of dudes holding up fish.

Pretty wack.

You felt yourself grow tired of it again. The adrenaline was waning, burnt to the stump. Good thing you didn’t try too hard. Pfft.

You sleepily swipe away on your phone, too late into the night. You blink hard as you snuggle into your covers, muttering,

“Just one more.”

Ah.

>> check out the whole bio here <<

“T, 23. Friendly, neighborhood romantic,” you whisper to yourself. You crack a small smile.

After countless swipes left, and (1) accidental swipe right, you match with a blurry boy–– super sus, I know. You don’t know how it happened tbh–– there’s nothing to “look” at, but your eyes fell on this one. Maybe because you just watched “Far From Home,” and enjoyed this spidey reference. Or you’re just innately drawn to the word “romantic.” Could be either, easily.

“It’s a match!”

Shit. You mumble, your profile photos floating together. You take a second to look through his meager collection. They were all obscure and blurry and not exactly in the artsy way.

You couldn’t decipher much, only that he had fair skin (?), with dark hair and dark eyes, but even that was questionable.

You’re pretty sure you matched with a bot or some old dude, or worse, a kid. You can hardly see his face in the pictures, blurry or cropped or covered.

Okay...

Is that his real name? Probably not. Is he actually 23? Doubt it. Is this going to go anywhere? Let’s hope not.

But whatever, it’s the first “match” that has seemed interesting in the past few days, solely on your pickiness. And this random bastards only gets you out of dumb luck.

You rub your eyes, and set down your phone, resigning to your stupidity.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

Good night.

And the gears were set in motion as you slept.

You had a new message on tinder waiting for you, but you didn’t check the app until much later. You go through your Sunday morning routine, only opening your phone after a light breakfast and stretch.

“Oh god,” you blink as you catch the red notification. You look around the room, preparing yourself for what could be anything. You take a deep breath and open the chat.

T: Hey

Oh. You stare at it, so bare with no personality to pick at. You wonder if you should even reply, but by the grips of boredom, you do.

You: Hey!

You set your phone down, trying to swallow the short thrill. You walk away for a moment. A reply comes within minutes.

And it’s a goddamn mess.

T: Sorry, i’ve never done this before.

Strike one. You suck in your cheeks. While you’re fairly new at this too, you… don’t know how much time you want to invest it in. Here again, you debate replying back–– but he beats you to it.

T: I’m trying to get over my ex

UHM? Strike two, you almost have to laugh. This is just testing your patience. Your jaw wriggles as you see he has more to say…

T: And you look a lot like her.

Damn. Strike three, he’s out. He’s got to know that would put anyone off, right? Why would you even admit that straight out? T? Come on, man.

You: i’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.

T: it’s an apology now, i didn’t know what to say

You: you could have complimented my killer smile or the pic of me with a dog. Anything but that

T: Right, right. I’m such a dickhead. Sorry, it’s nice to meet you though.

You hold your phone away, debating whether or not you should just delete the entire goddamn thing because this was just too stupid–– but it’s Sunday morning and what do you have left to lose.

You chew on the side of your lip, deciding to entertain “T,” but don’t spare him any soft words. You’d rather get straight to the point.

You: So… you go by “T?” And don’t have any real pics of your face? Are you even real???

T: Yeah, just private

You: kinda defeats the purpose of putting yourself out there though, right? Lol

T: It’s too easy if i put my face out there

You: oh, ha ha ha. So you’re saying you’re too hot to show your face? Love the confidence dude

And this is where you start actually laughing out loud. You wipe away tears at the side of your eyes, cackling at this display of internet confidence. It’s a tiny piece of amusement from a stranger you have 0 feelings for, and you’re not going to be mean to him… but you’ll definitely poke fun to see how far you can get.

Besides, he’s still replying back right? That’s almost hilarious in itself.

T: Hey, confidence is sexy, right?

You: yeah, more in person than online! 😂 (Laughing emoji)

You take a second to scroll back through his photos, and check to see if he has a link to instagram, twitter, anything. But he doesn’t. You try to pull up any evidence you can–– and at the very least, these blurry pics all look like they’re taken of the same person.

Slight build with dark curled hair–– rippable from any ambiguous online “hot boy” mood board though.

You’re wary.

You spot a picture with his smile, crinkled eye and lifted lip. You could swear he looked familiar… but maybe that’s because you’ve seen that same white boy/model on Pinterest.

Maybe.

T: wanna meet up and see for yourself?

You: maybe if you show me your face first

T: can’t do that quite yet, but I’d love to keep talking to you

You furrow your brows as you read his words. He would be down to meeting up with you upfront, but hesitates to send you a picture beforehand? That’s definitely a red flag, right? Right?

(Yes. Yes it is.)

You pull yourself back and let out a deep sigh. You’re probably the only person he’s talking to, especially with those purposeful (?) blurry pics and cryptic everything. Ugh.

It’s not playing yourself if you know it’s fake right? You can step out of this at anytime.

You: as long as you can hold my attention :)

T: I’ll try my very best ✌🏼 (peace sign emoji)

–– and with some very, very loose banter…. you end up exchanging numbers. You’ve put the whole Tinder thing on pause for now–– all four days of it. All for one stranger with no tact.

Unknown Number: hey, this is t (smiley face)

You: pfffft, I’m going to call you Blurry Boy. Since your name obviously isn’t T

BB: that’s fine with me :) mind if i call you darling?

You: ew

BB: o come on. It’s cute

You: please tell me you’re actually 23 or i swear to god I’m going to fucking lose it

BB: I swear 🤞🏼 (fingers crossed emoji)

You: ok. Prove it. Send me a pic of you–– you face or whatever

Ok. That’s a leap. He could rip a picture from anywhere but let’s see how fast he could do it. If it takes too long, then he probably did just rip it from the internet.

And if he makes a mistake and actually sends you a clear pic of himself? Well, that could only be seen as a win.

BB:

But you are ruthless.

You: ok. Send me another one.

And he could stop if he wanted to.

Only, he doesn’t. In a short moment, he sends another picture.

BB:

Same room, same face, same glasses. I guess you could believe him… for now. No matter how shitty the photos have end up....

But he could also be one of those people with folders full of stock photos… you never know.

But putting paranoia aside, you decide to turn off the heat a lil. You grab your coffee and sit on your couch, sliding into a comfy position. You turn on some YouTube videos on your laptop, watching the first few seconds as you lean your cheek against the couch cushions.

Phew.

You: thanks…. sorry I’m so paranoid. But you truly have the worst pictures of yourself put up there. Potato quality.

BB: nah, i know. I get it. Haha it’s alright, a pretty girl like you needs to protect herself

You: oh BOY that doesn’t make me feel any better 😂(laughing emoji)

BB: fuck, sorry. Ugh that is fuckin creepy. Shit. I’m terrible at texting

You: no, no. It’s alright. Actually, great job with taking those photos so fast. Most people would have taken sooooo much longer. You get a few points for not holding back

BB: babe, i told you. I’m gorgeous. I don’t gotta worry about it 😂😂💕 (laughing emojis)

You: right, right blurry boy. Great job with all those fuzzy ass photos. 🙄 (Eye roll emoji) haha are you really looking for someone out here or…?

BB: sort of. I’m testing out the waters and… you’re really pretty

You have to blink back and roll your eye, you’re unable to digest this conversation as real. They’re flowery words given to you, for sure, but your suspicion is much stronger. Your guard will not let down or be appeased by some blurry ass dude calling you “pretty.”

He replies before you have the chance.

BB: i dont wanna get into the messy details but yeah. Company sounds great right about now

You: yeah, i feel that

It’s a real and valid reply, but it’s a terrible one. It’s so hard for someone to reply back to that–– but you’re testing his perseverance. If he finds something to say back, it might just prove one more thing to you. That he might actually be interested, and someone worth talking to.

BB: sorry i lead with my baggage, I’m a fucking mess

You: *a confident fucking mess

BB: thank you 😇 (angel emoji)

You: don’t worry about it, I’ve seen worse

You laugh darkly to yourself. I’ve been worse.

BB: hahahaha thanks. Ok. But all that aside… real talk now. Can I ask you about the dog in your photo now?

You hate to admit that your lips curled into a smile, as you hastily type back.

Your coffee was half drank and cold by now. The YouTube video you were supposed to be watching has moved onto part two.

You eyes are still scanning your text screen, waiting to see those three bouncing dots at the bottom left hand corner.

He’s not the worst–– and at most, even if this turns out to be fake, this is just your Sunday morning entertainment. Nothing more and nothing less. These are just insignificant texts that will probably lead to a few lost days, or mediocre sex at best.

So, whatever, right?

MONDAY MORNING

BB: good morning! ☀️ (sun emoji)

You: well you sure get up early. Good morning

BB: Haha, I like to start the week as soon as i can. Do you drink coffee or tea in the morning?

You: coffee most days. You?

BB: i drink tea, darling

You: yeah that’s probably better for you haha. Less expensive too.

BB: mhm, definitely cheaper if you come over and i make you a cup

You: wow, the flirting starts the second the sun is up, huh?

BB: what, still too early?

You: never too early

BB: do you brew the coffee yourself?

You: some mornings. I usually pop into XX Cafe midday if i can.

BB: catch you there? 😂 (laughing emoji) nah, i’ll have to check the place out. I don’t know this area too well.

You: i guess if you can find me! I’m usually in and out pretty fast. Got places to be you know? Hm, did you just move here?

BB: yeah, i got settled in about a week ago

You: staying long?

BB: long enough

You: oh ha ha. Seriously not suspicious at all

BB: yeah I’m in town for a month or two. I’m getting away from work and stress for a minute

You: and you chose here?

BB: quiet enough for me. 😌 (smiley face) and you’re here so that’s a plus

You: relentless

BB: and nothing less.

MONDAY EVENING

BB: you haven’t seen that series? You’re crazy

You: whaaat! It’s not my thing. AND i don’t have time for it

BB: it’s a masterpiece, come on! Who doesn’t like laughing? It’s funny! You’ll like it

You: you’re gonna owe me a drink if don’t like it

BB: I’ll gladly buy you one right now if that’s what it takes to get you to watch it

You: ugh, i guess if you recommend it i can tryyyy…

BB: you won’t regret it!

You: ugh you are so annoying. What are you up to right now?

BB: reading emails and talking to you

You: haha what’s so important that you’re reading an email at like 11. Gotta turn on that “do not disturb” dude

BB: I can’t mute the work stuff, unfortunately

You: so if i called you over tonight you wouldn’t be able to? “Because of work?”

BB: you serious? I’m only taking serious offers right now

You: No! It’s monday. Can’t indulge you that early in the week

BB: what a shame. I’d drop it in a heartbeat for you

You: Nice to know

BB: I’ve got a feeling that I shouldn’t have told you that (laughing emoji)

You: 😈 (devil emoji)

TUESDAY MORNING

BB: good morning!

You: hey! I remembered I had some tea back at my apartment so… just wanted to let you know you had an impact on my day 🙄😊 (eye roll emoji and smiley face emoji)

BB: I could still make a better cup for you 😘 (kissy face emoji)

You: right. What do you have planned today?

BB: hmm, I’m heading out to the gym. Then I might explore the city a bit. Bump into me?

You: well, I don’t know if I could recognize you even if i wanted to

BB: you’ll recognize me

You: haha, okay? Wait, do I know you? –– if this is a prank…

BB: it’s not!

You: .. that wouldn’t be cool.

BB: it’s not a prank! There’s just a lot of things I can’t tell you just yet. It’d be a lot easier if we were able to meet up in person.

You: why?

BB: I’m pretty private. It’s really hard for me to just… share certain things with you. But I want to! SO badly! I just can’t send you a whole picture of my face. It’s complicated.

You: Sorry? I don’t get it.

BB: Ahhhh. This is going to sound so bad. I trust you, like as a person. But also I can’t trust you. If you meet me–– you’ll understand why. I’m sorry.

You: Okay…? And you have to understand that this sounds absolutely batshit to me, right? Like it’s pretty hard to trust you like this.

BB: yeah I know. I’m sorry. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me. But honestly, it’s nice to be able to talk to you like this and I hope we can continue to chat. I really do like you.

You: … That is really unfair.

BB: I know! I’m sorry. Give me another day or two–– i have a few things to figure out but, I SWEAR i’m not lying to you. I promise it’ll make sense soon

You: well, if you promise you’re not a creep….

BB: I’m not!

You: and that you’re not using me as a replacement for your ex

BB: I won’t!

You: you are SO lucky i’m patient

BB: and kind. And beautiful. And amazing.

You: you’re pushing it, blurry boy. I just need you to realize how unfair this is.

BB: I do. And I know. I’m sorry.

You: what are you looking for here? With me or with anyone you would have met from the app?

BB: a home away from home

You: yeah i read that in your bio. What does that mean?

BB: I’m looking for someone I can spend time with and trust with my whole heart

You: ha ha

BB: I’m serious. It’s hard to find.

You: you’re a real romantic, that’s for sure

TUESDAY EVENING

You: you have a DOG and you didn’t tell me?

BB: what, you’re not interested in the fact that I have younger twin brothers and another 8 years younger than me? ‘Always about Tessa

You: obviously! Send a pic!

BB:

You: is this from right now?

BB: nah, something I took ages ago. I had to leave her back home with my family.

You: aww, that’s too bad.

BB: would you come over if she were here?

You: Duh! And I guess you’d have to make me a cup.

BB: sounds lovely. Let’s make it a date

You: ha ha. You miss home?

BB: More than you know. I travel A LOT

You: well, call back often! They would be happy to know you miss them! Loneliness is not a great feeling.

BB: I do, all the time! And definitely not a good feeling. So, it’s really nice to talk to you. Thank you.

You: Sorry, I’m not a very great conversational partner. But still happy to hear that

BB: You are. You’re still here

You: You are too.

BB: You already mean a lot to me

You: Have you been in many relationships? (Or hookups idk)

BB: No, and not really. I’ve only been in a handful of long-term relationships

You: Interesting

BB: What?

You: Just wondering if you are really catching feelings for me

BB: Guilty. You?

You: I don’t think I know enough about you to catch anything. No offense 😬😅(cringe emoji, laughing emoji)

BB: Ha, no. I meant if you’ve been in many relationships?

You: Oh! Sorry. A few of either. Did long-term once. Didn’t work out, obviously–– so here I am. That’s that.

BB: Guess we both have a past to bury

You: Please don’t say anything about “burying yourself into my pussy to feel better”

BB: WHAT. I wasn’t even thinking about that. That’s all you 👀

You: Hey, you’ve been pretty quick all the other times, bud.

BB: If I tell you I want more than just sex, does that make you feel better?

You: It makes me think about the fact that you still want to have sex with me

BB: And I can’t deny that 😊 (smiley blushy face emoji)

WEDNESDAY MORNING:

BB: Good morning!

You: Morning! Little later than usual–– sleeping in?

BB: Yeah, since I can afford to. You replied quicker than usual. Were you waiting for me? 😉 (wink emoji)

You: Haha, you wish. I was already on my phone, stud.

BB: Right, right. I can tell you like to play hard to get

You: No I don’t!

BB: 😂 (laughing emoji)

You: I don’t!

BB: Wow, feels great to finally have something to hold over you

You: I hate you 🙄 (eye roll emoji)

BB: Have a nice day, love 😊🌈(smiley face, rainbow emoji)

PING!

“BB? Who is bb?” Liza asks you on Wednesday evening after seeing a notification pop up on your phone. She grabs it off the sticky cafe table and looks at you with her pretty head tilted.

Oh––

You wiggle your jaw, and raise your brows,

“No one important.”

You take your phone back and open the message discreetly. It’s nothing special, you’re sure, but you have to look.

BB: so have you seen the last episode yet????? Hello??

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone!” She pleads, putting down the drink in her hands. You were at the mall, idly walking and taking a short break. She looks at you pointedly, eyes darting around your face for any spot of weakness, as she quietly whines, “You didn’t tell us anything about this…”

“It’s because I’m not––” You offer, nodding. You flip your phone upside down as the message lights up again. “–– seeing anyone.”

She gives you a squinted look of total disbelief.

You’ve been messaging “Blurry Boy” nonstop for the past few days. First you talked about nothing, and now you’re asking each other about how your day was going and what you’re doing now, and what you’re doing later.

You always find something. Your phone is constantly by your side, sound on.

And there’s a layer of real time now, now that you’ve gotten to know him and his schedule better.

You learn that he has his own cute dog name Tessa and that his family fosters dogs back home, and that he’s the oldest, with twin brothers and a younger one he’s been trying desperately to relate to. You find out that his favorite color is black and that he’s in deep shit for stealing his best friend’s fav hoodie. All of this makes him feel like someone you know, someone you could call a friend.

He feels like more than just some guy you’ve talked to waaaay too long from Tinder.

And what’s worse, is that he knows certain things about you too. He knows that you don’t like sleeping in the dark and that you’re borderline addicted to iced coffee. That you like rewatching old romcoms and classic spooky movies… That your back hurts from work and that you have a fucking dentist appointment on Thursday.

You know a lot more about each other than less. And that’s kinda really fucking weird.

“You’re always smiling at your phone,” Liza says flatly, picking her drink back up to take a long and loud sip. Major side-eye. “‘Fess up.”

“No, I’m not!” You say through your teeth, trying to not smile. But under her stare you melt and crack under pressure.

You keep telling yourself that you’ll stop replying–– that he’s super sus and this isn’t going anywhere. But… you just keep texting him back.

“It’s nothing, seriously.”

“Let me see,” she pouts. “Pleeeease.” She flaps her hands at you, wriggling her fingers.

“No!”

Even though you know that it’s a losing game with her, you try to put up a fight, turning away and holding your phone tightly. You have onlookers now from the squealing, kicking and creaking chairs.

You give in after a minute.

You hand your phone in defeat as you readjust yourselves. You clear your throat.

“Okay, okay. But this is like, not serious at all, okay.” You rationalize as you show her the pictures you had screenshot and saved from him. “I barely know him.”

Barely! You’ve chanted that in your head over and over. Not enough to know if you want to get to know him, or what to drop him. That’s the purgatory you’ve been living in.

Liza is uncharacteristically quiet as she scrolls up and down the chats and flips through the pictures. Her hair covers whatever expression she’s making.

That makes you nervous, and you start babbling.

“Yeah, I mean. I don’t think he’s real or anything–– It’s just for fun and it’s whatever. I don’t even care.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

She freezes on a picture of him. The one where you can see a part of his smile and a crinkled eye. She zooms in and pauses again.

“Babe?” Her voice is cautious and slow. God. You don’t want to hear what she has to say next with this tone of voice…

“Hm?” You attempt to perk up, hiding the fact that you just gulped with nerves. It feels like you’re holding something sour in your mouth.

I don’t like this...

“So, he seems like a super nice guy and all but…” She speaks gingerly and wide eyed.

“But what?” You feel yourself recoil.

As much as you talk a big game… it would still hurt to have this illusion shattered. This self-inflicted fantasy. You don’t want her to keep going.

But you can guess what’s coming next.

...

“I… I think he’s using pictures of Tom Holland.”

…

Wait…...

What?!

A.N: WAH! she’s back!! well, as much as she can be. haha i know i have a million things always running at the same time but... i really will just ride the wave of inspiration as it comes.... that’s all i can do. anyway, hope you like this series! it’s going to be an exploration of starting new relationships in your young adulthood–– and how to handle be “The one” after “The One.” it’ll be a good time.

Thank you guys for reading! Please like, comment and reblog :) You’re all amazing.

Much Love,

Madmadmilk 💫

** i do NOT keep up with a taglist. track #one after the one to keep up with the updates, or check out my masterlist! thanks!