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cheolism · 6 months

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BREAK AND RETURN

✰ — brother's-bandmate!minghao x f!reader ✷ — summary: last week minghao did what he thought was best and put an end to your fling. he sees you again before band practice and can't help but give in to his desires. ✰ — wc is approx. 5k ✷ — genre: 90s au, smut, fwb/fucking your brother's friend ✰ — warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it! yk it!), pet names (good girl, angel, etc), jealousy, possessiveness, and lust. backshots, off-screen masturbation, fingering and pussy-licking. lmk if anything else should be added :) ✷ — rating: 18+ ✰ — note: this is a part of @beomcoups's "now that's 90's" svt collab! thank u very much for letting me join the collab! i had fun chatting n interacting with new people ^-^ i hope everyone enjoys the fic!! thank you very much to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and reassuring me <3 tagging @idyllic-ghost and @onlyhuis bc i think you both wanted tagged but i can't remember, so sorry!!!

here’s the thing: minghao isn’t stupid.

he knows better. he truly does. he isn’t some idiot stuck at a claw machine at an arcade, doesn’t keep feeding it his money while never getting any closer to winning a prize. minghao knows when to quit something, when to step away.

that’s why he broke things off with you, after all. he had thought it would be easy. the two of you weren’t in a real relationship. you weren’t like tom cruise and nichole kidman – the two of you were just fucking. no strings attached.

but of course there were strings attached. you’re the kid sister to his friend and bandmate, josh; at first minghao thought he would be fine keeping it a secret. he didn’t need to take you out on dates and show you off like you were the best thing since bon jovi. the two of you were content in each other’s arms, naked chest against naked chest, legs intertwined as you dozed off.

minghao, however, wasn’t stupid.

he knew there were strings attached to the both of you. he knew that it was a bad idea, fucking his bandmate’s little sister. every time he kissed your warm mouth, he knew he was betraying josh’s trust. it wasn’t fair of him to to that to josh, and it wasn’t fair of him to put you, josh’s sister, in a position to lie to your own brother.

so minghao took initiative and broke off the relationship.

he wasn’t stupid, and he knew the first time he would see you after breaking up with you would be hard. he knew it would be. it’s hard for real couples, for couples that hold hands as they walk down the street and talk about what to name the cat they’re going to adopt. he had imagined it would be hard, to some degree, to see you. the two of you might have steered away from such topics as rings and shared apartments and other things that left the fantasy of forever in your minds, but he knew you. he knew how you sighed after he kissed the space under your ear, he knew how you looked fresh from the shower with your face shining from the heat of the water. he knew how you looked when you concentrated on painting your toes, how you looked when you begged him to see clueless at the theater because josh thought it would be stupid and you didn’t know who else to ask.

he knew you, and perhaps that was worse than dating you.

he knew you, and you knew him, and minghao isn’t stupid but he didn’t know that seeing you again would hurt so much.

you look beautiful. you always do, according to minghao. you’re sitting on that old couch josh and him spent an hour trying to shove into the garage for their band practices. you’re wearing ridiculous clothes, baggy comfy pants and the ugly oversized sweater with the worn collar and checkers and stripes on it. you’re talking to soonyoung, hands waving excitedly as the two of you laugh. your beauty bubbles out with every breath of laughter, seems to radiate in your chest like a little star, and minghao knows that even if winona ryder was in the room with them he would still choose you as the most beautiful.

you catch sight of minghao. you shoot him a grin, large and inviting, as if he hadn’t made you cry last week. you give him a little wave. “hi, minghao!”

and then you turn back to soonyoung, your knee pressed against his.

it’s so ridiculous; he’s ridiculous. minghao feels his stomach twist, as if someone was wringing it like a wash cloth after doing dirty dishes. you’re beautiful and radiant, and you spoke two words to minghao before turning to soonyoung, as if minghao wasn’t anyone particularly special.

he can’t help but stare at you. you lift a hand, and, in a move he recognizes as you flirting because you’ve done it to him when you want him to fuck you, you tuck your hair back behind your ear. you are wearing small pearl stud earrings and immediately minghao recognizes them as the ones he bought for you a year and a half ago, right before the two of you started fucking.

you tuck your hair back behind your ear and soonyoung watches, his mouth parted a little, and minghao feels like he needs to punch something.

“funny, isn’t it?” josh says, appearing at minghao’s side. josh runs his tongue over his lip ring, pulling at the sleeves of his plaid jacket. “it looks like soonyoung’s got a crush on my kid sister.”

“yeah,” minghao says, throat tight. he watches as soonyoung edges slightly closer, his thigh now pressed firmly against yours. you don’t move away. minghao wants you to move away, or better yet, slap soonyoung.

minghao isn’t a violent person, either. he isn’t violent, nor is he jealous. but once he also had thought he was above the lure of lust, was above giving into the craving of needing your body against his, dick stuffed in your pussy and his mouth dominating yours.

maybe you just had some sort of power over him that no one else did. maybe it’s like that movie practical magic, and you’ve placed a spell on him, bewitching him.

“i think he’s going to ask her out soon,” josh carries on, as if he’s ignorant to the way minghao is one step from having a crisis. “i saw the drive-in is going to be playing jurassic park. i remember when it first came out and how much she loved seeing it at the theater. it’ll be a good chance for soonyoung to ask her on a date.”

minghao scoffs. “you know he’s scared of that movie. whenever we bring out the vhs he runs.”

josh shrugs. “if he likes her as much as i think he does, i think soonyoung will be fine.”

“and you’re okay with it?” minghao turns to josh, putting his back to you and soonyoung. “you’re totally okay with soonyoung dating your sister?”

josh shrugged, twisting his mouth a little in thought. “well. i think – i think he really likes her, you know? he’s not just gonna fuck her and leave her hanging around until he wants her again.”

minghao’s mouth sours, and he bites back a venomous remark. that’s what his relationship with you was like, wasn’t it? he has no place to try and insert himself between you and soonyoung’s blossoming relationship.

“you know how soonyoung is, though,” minghao says, despite himself. he folds his arms in front of him, drumming his fingers against his bare skin. he sees the little flower tattoo on his ring finger, the one he got after you spent an evening at his apartment drawing flowers into your lisa frank notebook with glitter pens. “he’s flighty. he’s never stayed with a chick longer than a month. what if he breaks her heart?”

josh hums. “i can’t keep her locked away in the house forever, hao. she’s grown. she can make her own decisions. and if that is soonyoung, the same soonyoung who refuses to drive without everyone wearing seatbelts and insists on someone holding his hand as he gets a tattoo, then i’m fine with that.”

minghao huffs. he walks away from josh, knowing that josh is right. you are grown and can make your own decisions. for a year and a half, that was minghao. you chose to go to his apartment, chose to get on your knees and offer your mouth. you chose to lay by his side, fingers gently tracing the vine tattoo that climbed up his left arm as minghao murmured about the future. for a year and a half you chose minghao, until he took that choice away from you.

and now you were sitting at soonyoung’s side on an old, musty couch, laughing at some stupid joke.

minghao grabbed his bass off of its stand, bringing the strap up around his neck. his fingers find the strings naturally, absentmindedly plucking out the beginning of u2’s “one”. on the body of his bass, down towards the bridge, is a strawberry shortcake sticker that you had gingerly pressed onto his instrument.

josh joins minghao, calling back to soonyoung. jihoon and vernon come through the door leading to the kitchen, each of them holding a jolt cola.

“finally,” minghao sighs, glaring at the two other men. “come on. practice started ten minutes ago.”

soonyoung stands from the couch, still talking to you. you’re looking up at him with a smile, eyes sparkling.

“kwon soonyoung!” minghao snaps. he stops playing the bass, narrowing his eyes at soonyoung. “come on! just because you have all day doesn’t mean the rest of us do. why don’t you fucking respect the rest of us and stop flirting and get the fuck over here.”

josh sucks in a breath next to minghao but doesn’t say anything. soonyoung gives you a small wave, and then he’s jogging over. he glances at minghao, murmuring a small apology.

minghao doesn’t care. he’s watching you. you lean forward, elbows on your knees, tilting your head and eyes on minghao. your sweater – that overly large, horrible sweater – is loose at the collar, and as you lean forward the hole widens and gapes and falls, giving minghao a view of the valley between your tits and the top of your black silk bra, and all that skin above it.

and he remembers. minghao remembers what it was like to press his mouth to your skin, to hold your tits in his hands and feel their weight and warmth. he remembers being between your warm thighs, remembers how soft your body was and how he always seemed to sink into it.

you stand. “well, i’ll leave you guys alone so you can practice.”

minghao watches as you leave, the hem of your sweater covering your ass. he remembers you walking from his bed wearing an overly large nirvana shirt, how the hem tapped against your ass as you walked away and to the kitchen.

and here’s the thing: minghao isn’t stupid.

he broke things off with you. he isn’t with you anymore, doesn’t have the privilege of getting horny and jealous of you. he doesn’t get to act on his frustrations when he sees you taunting him, when he sees you getting your petty revenge for breaking up with you. you’re stirring something up with soonyoung, and he doesn’t get to veto that, doesn’t get to act as if he has any say in your life.

after all, he’s the one that made sure he wouldn’t. he’s the one that made sure to draw the line between the two of you.

practice starts, and minghao is somewhere else entirely. he gets the order of the songs mixed up, starts playing basket case before live forever. he loses all of his picks and has to borrow from vernon, and his mind keeps slipping back to you.

an hour passes like that, with minghao not really there. he’s between your thighs, face pressed against your pussy; he’s in your arms, heels digging into his back as you urge him to go deeper. he’s everywhere but there, everywhere with you.

eventually minghao loses another pick, and josh sighs from the front. he goes over to the speaker and dials it off, frowning at everyone. “i’m thinking we should take a break. we’re not doing our best, and everyone seems really scattered right now. let’s break for supper and come back and really put work in.”

the others nod, turning off their instruments or, in jihoon’s case, setting down his drumsticks. “we need to get focused,” jihoon agrees, serious. “we’re not going to keep maintaining gigs if we’re fucking around like this. we need to be serious about what we’re doing. we need to be bringing our everything to every practice. none of this bullshit.”

josh nods, setting his guitar back in its case. his case, just like minghao’s, is decorated with stickers you’ve slapped on. besides strawberry shortcake there’s lisa frank, rugrats, pokemon. there’s squiggly lines and smiley faces and flowers, all the signs pointing to you.

“honestly,” joshua says, voice grave, “if, by some fucking miracle, the black rose calls back and says they want us to perform for them, i’ll have to turn them down.”

soonyoung protests, brow furrowed. “come on! this is just one practice we’ve fucked up. it’s not like we’re always fucking around. let’s just take a break, clear our heads, and come back at it. this isn’t something that needs to be repeated or stressed over.”

“i’m thinking about a triple decker pizza,” vernon says, prompted by no one. josh rolls his eyes, grinning, and the band begins to split into groups for food.

“where you wanna go?” soonyoung asks minghao. he’s blinking innocently at minghao, completely ignorant of the absolute sin going through his mind. he doesn’t know that minghao thought about punching him only an hour ago, doesn’t know he’s been fantasizing about the way your thighs felt under his fingertips while fumbling his fingers over the bass strings.

“i think i’ll just run home and grab something,” minghao lies, setting his guitar on its stand. soonyoung pouts, nodding.

minghao lingers behind the others, lying to josh about misplacing his keys and promising to lock the house behind him. you were doing your homework, josh said, and he didn’t want you to be disturbed.

minghao waits until soonyoung, whom always seems to be the last one to leave, pulls out of the driveway with vernon jamming out in the passenger seat beside him, and then he’s moving.

he knows the way up to your bedroom as if it was his own. he goes up the carpeted stairs, past the various pictures of you in flouncy dresses and huge bows as babies, past the awkward family photo with you and josh pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, wearing matching sweater vests. he flips on the mickey mouse lightswitch at the top of the staircase, and then he’s opening your bedroom door.

your room is your sanctuary. the bedroom walls are painted a soft lilac from your childhood, covered in posters from spice girls to nirvana and aerosmith. there’s beanie babies hanging over your mirror, a troll doll on your dresser. your room is littered with comics and cd cases, all of your cds stacked in small piles around the stereo. you’ve got backstreet boys playing from your stereo, and minghao doesn’t even have it in him to make a comment about it.

meanwhile, you –

you are on your bed. you’re still wearing that sweater, but that’s all. your blankets are on the floor, pillow stuffed underneath your hips. your entire lower half is bare, one leg extended out and the other bent. the room has the faint, barely-there smell of cunt, and it’s more intoxicating than any drug.

you meet minghao’s eyes sheepishly, hands smoothing down your thighs. “missed you,” is all you say, fingers slowly dragging across your thighs and towards your center.

minghao is across the room in record time, pulling off his bomber jacket and throwing it to the ground. “we don’t have a lot of time,” he says, hands pulling up the hem of his shirt to zip down his pants. “the others just went to eat.”

“then you better hurry,” you say, eyes sparkling. you don’t make any comments about him stumbling back into your bed after breaking everything off. instead you spread out your legs, your hands making quick work of your sweater and bra, and minghao falls onto your bed.

“i’ve prepared,” you say as he settles between your thighs. he can’t help but run his hands over your skin, treasuring the feel of your skin beneath his. this was his favorite place on earth, he realizes; between your thighs, skin to skin.

“you’ve prepared?” he echos, raising a brow. you nod, biting down on your lip. “been waiting for me, is that it?”

“you or soonyoung,” you say, grinning at him.

minghao scowls at you, pinching your skin between his fingertips. “shut up,” he commands you. “don’t wanna hear you say his name ever again.”

you laugh at him, reaching out. you lace your fingers around his neck, bringing his face down to yours. you press a quick, close-lipped kiss to his mouth. “sorry,” you say, voice still light and giggly. “couldn’t help it.”

minghao growls, and then he’s lacing his hands in your hair and smashing his mouth back to yours. he pries open your mouth with his tongue, delving in and reclaiming that familiar space. he can’t believe he’s gone over a week without kissing you – it’s a sin, he’s sure, to not kiss you and have you whimpering underneath his touch. it’s a greater sin to not kiss you than it is to be kissing his friend’s little sister, surely.

he sucks at your bottom lip, moving his hands down your thighs. they’re sticky on the inside, no doubt from when you prepared yourself earlier. when he moves his hand deeper between your thighs it’s wetter, warmer, stickier, and he thinks that this is a heaven of it’s own. you sigh against his mouth, and then he’s ducking his head and moving his body, mouth slipping from yours and skimming down over your chin and along your throat.

you whine, and he can’t help but chuckle against your skin. he suckles at your throat. you open beneath him so wonderfully, it’s a wonder he was ever able to separate from you at all.

minghao moves down your body, kissing each and every spot he missed. the top of the valley between your tits, the skin of your shoulder. he mouths at your nipples, slipping his hand up between your legs so his fingers brush at your pussy lips.

you shiver beneath him. he laps at one of your nipples with his tongue, fingers dipping and sliding your cunt. he doesn’t apply any real pressure, just content with teasing you and hearing those whines and moans he missed.

“hao,” you groan out, fingers moving to his hair. you tangle your fingers in his locks, pulling softly. “hao –”

he shushes you, and then his fingers are slipping into your cunt. you moan out, head tipping back. he slips two into your hole, biting down at his lip as your pussy contracts around him, trying to suck his fingers in further, desperate for his touch.

your cunt is hot around his fingers. it’s not as tight as it would have been if you hadn’t prepared, and it’s easy for him to slide his two fingers down to the base, brushing his fingertips against your core.

“fuck,” he sighs, pressing his face against your stomach. he breathes in, inhaling your scent. you’re so wonderful. you smell wonderful, feel wonderful. he wants to devour you; he can’t imagine why he ever left you.

he slides his fingers from your cunt, drawing a high whine from your lips. minghao clicks his tongue at you, and then he’s pushing three fingers in. you shudder, cunt clenching so tight around his digits that he can’t move.

“easy, baby,” he mumbles, his free hand going to your leg. minghao pulls your leg over his shoulder, nose pressing against your thigh. he can feel your skin against his eyelash as his breathes you in here, too. “gotta be easy and good for me.”

you let out a long breath, eyes sliding shut. your cunt loosens around his fingers, and as a reward minghao moves down further between your legs. he presses his face to your cunt, the smell of your pussy surrounding him.

he knows he should hurry. he knows his band will be back soon. but that doesn’t stop minghao from running his tongue along your clit, doesn’t stop him from tasting this part of you. he missed it so much – missed your cunt, how it smelled and felt and tasted.

your thighs clench around his head, but he continues. minghao scissors his fingers in you, not focused on stretching you but instead making you feel good. he laps at your lit in broad strokes, and then he’s sucking at your little bean, a loud squeal escaping your lips.

“quiet!” he hisses, though he feels his lips twitching up at the corner. he does it again and again between licks of his tongue, feeling your body shake beneath his and little sounds of ecstasy escape your lips.

“hao!” you whine out, fingers digging slightly into his scalp. “gotta – gotta hurry, josh –”

you couldn’t manage a full sentence, high moans and squeals escaping your mouth and interrupting your words. but minghao understood all the same, and he was pressing one last kiss to your pussy before he withdrew.

he wiped his hand off on the sheets, and then he was pushing his pants and boxers down to his knees. he fisted his shirt with one hand, raising it and keep it away from your soaking cunt as he moved close.

you plant your feet on the bed, tilting your hips up for him. you’re so good, he thinks. you’re perfect. and you’re his.

minghao pressed the head of his cock against your cunt, watching as your entire body seemed to freeze in anticipation. you were so ready for him, so eager. you were biting down at your lip, eyes large and watching, and minghao couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t feeling the same way.

he crowded down over you, releasing his shirt and moving his hand to cup your face. minghao rolled his tongue into your mouth, the noises of your wet mouths meeting making his cock throb with anger.

he fucked into your cunt, a deep groan escaping you. your pussy was tight, despite preparation, but warm and wet and minghao slowly slid deeper and deeper. your body took his cock easily, as it always had, and he knew that the two of you were meant for each other.

“hao,” you moan out, lashes fluttering. you speak against his mouth, breath hot. “feels good, hao. want it. missed you so much, hao.”

“i know, baby,” he mumbles, hand sinking into your hair. he slides until his cock is buried as far as it can go within you, your pussy clamping down on his cock. he wanted to move, wanted to immediately begin fucking you. instead he held back, hand twisting in your hair. “i missed you too.”

you bite at your lip, and then you’re tightening your legs around his waist. minghao takes this as permission, and he begins drawing his hips back. the slide of his dick against your walls feels so good, feels perfect, all slick warmth that makes his toes curl and eyes flutter.

he can’t believe he left you. he can’t believe he ended this. he’s so fucking stupid –

minghao fucks back into your cunt, and it feels like coming home. he begins setting a slow, deep rhythm that makes you arch up around him, mouth wide and eyes pinched shut. he just looks at you, takes in the shape of your mouth and your lashes, just looks and adores you.

his hand moves from your hair to your ear, and he traces the shell of your ear as he grinds into you. he follows the curve, adoring. he thumbs at your earlobe, just touching you, when he touches that pearl earring.

and minghao thinks back. he thinks back to how you had tucked your hair behind your ear for soonyoung, how you had acted all cute and coy for him. how you had taunted minghao.

his hips slow to a stop, and you whine for him. for a moment he just focuses on your earrings, staring.

“you’re such a bad girl,” he growls out, and then he’s slamming back into your pussy, the sound of skin hitting skin loud. you cry out, startled, and then he’s setting a punishing, brutal pace.

“you’re so bad,” he hisses, hand moving down to your throat. he doesn’t choke you, just places his hand against your throat. “teasing me like that with soonyoung. so fucking bad. wanted me to get jealous, didn’t you?”

you whimper, eyes rolling back as he fucks you. each thrust into your cunt is wet and loud, and he fucks you knowing that you’ll feel the ache hours later.

“wanted me jealous of kwon soonyoung,” minghao murmurs, and he’s ducking his head to bite at your neck. you cry out, cunt tightening around his dick. he bites and licks and sucks, marking your neck as his.

because you are his. he was a fool to think otherwise. you’re his and he’s yours, and he’ll show kwon soonyoung.

minghao pulls out – you whine – and he flips you around. minghao moves to his knees, pulling you up and back so you’re on all fours. he enters you with a rough thrust, and then he’s resuming his hard pace, chasing out each sting of skin slapping skin, seeking that pain-pleasure.

“you’re mine,” he says, hands tight around your hips. he watches your ass jiggle with each thrust, some animalistic urge to take coming over him. “you’re mine, angel. fucking mine and no one else’s. got it?”

you nod against your pillows, arching your back and pushing back to him. you fuck back onto him, meeting each thrust, and minghao can’t help but feel satisfied.

as if you’d ever do this for kwon soonyoung. as if you’d ever let him fuck you like this, as if you’d ever give yourself over to kwon soonyoung as eagerly as you do minghao.

“you gotta cum,” minghao commands, slapping at your ass. you cry out, fingers twisting in the sheets. “gotta cum around my cock, baby. milk me.”

he reaches down, grabbing his shirt and pushing it up out of the way. his fingers slip into your cunt, fluttering around where the two of you are connected to grind down on the gummy area surrounding your clit. you whine, and only a couple of thrusts later you’re tightening around his dick.

“that’s it,” minghao says, biting down on his lip. “gush around my dick, angel. come on, cum for me.”

your moans rise in pitch as you cum, and he fucks you through it. he fucks into your pussy as it quivers, fluttering around his dick. once you’re finished, whining from oversensitivity, minghao pulls out of your pussy – your warm, tight, delightful pussy – and fucks into his hand until he’s shooting out warm stripes of cum, painting your back white. he feels fuckin amazing, adrenaline and lust and something he can’t quite name rushing through his veins.

he pants, watching as his cum taints your skin. you’re so beautiful like this, stained with him. he says as much, rubbing his hand over your ass and back.

a car honks from the street. minghao curses, and then he’s flinging himself off of the bed. he grabs his bomber jacket, hesitates, and then quickly wipes himself down.

“i’ll wash it,” you promise, and he ducks down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your mouth.

“good girl,” he murmurs, moving to press a kiss to your temple. “such a good girl for me.”

he darts for the bathroom after leaving your bedroom, flicking on the goofy lightswitch. he looks in the mirror. he looks – well, he looks like he just spent the last half hour fucking someone.

but not just anyone, he thinks, grabbing his shirt and flapping it to try and get some fresh air against his skin. he spent the last half hour fucking you.

vernon looks at him weirdly as he hands minghao a few slices of pizza. “been busy?”

minghao shrugs, pressing his hair back from his face. “went jogging a bit to try and clear my mind of all it’s shit. need to bring everything to practice.”

vernon looks like he doesn’t believe minghao, but vernon, also, doesn’t care. so minghao watches as his friend grabs a soda from the fridge. “cool,” is all he says, and then vernon begins slurping at his drink.

soonyoung enters the room with his own pizza, setting it on the counter. “i made sure to get some you like,” he says to minghao.

minghao feels, slightly, like he should feel guilty towards soonyoung. soonyoung, after all, has a crush on you. and minghao just fucked soonyoung’s crush.

then again, minghao thinks, it’s soonyoung’s fault for getting a crush on you when you spend every other day getting your brains fucked out by minghao.

joshua enters his house with a large grin, holding a plastic cup in one hand. “you’ll never fucking guess who called.”

“president clinton,” soonyoung says, raising a slice of pepperoni pizza to his mouth. “wait. better yet. monica lewinsky.”

“no,” josh says, “cut it out. i’m talking about the fucking black rose club! they called! and they want us for next thursday!”

“well,” minghao says, a grin taking over his face. “it isn’t a friday or saturday performance, so the club won’t be too busy.”

“but it gets our name out there,” josh agreed, clapping vernon on the back. he looks so sincerely happy, lip ring glinting in the artificial light of the kitchen. “we’re getting on the map.”

minghao raises vernon’s soda in salute towards josh before drinking it and handing it back to vernon. “things are looking up,” minghao says.

minghao isn’t stupid. he knows they’ll need to work their asses off for the next week in preparation of playing at the club. he knows this is only one step on the mountain of success, only one step towards their goal line. he knows he’ll need to talk to you, sincerely. he knows he’ll need to apologize, knows he needs to explain everything.

yes; minghao isn’t stupid.

but, he thinks, watching as you come down the stairs, fresh from a shower, he is awfully lucky.

851 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 11 months

Text

Christmas Sweater

Y/N learns to Knit. Daniel loves it (so fucking much)

Masterlist

"Happy November first!" Daniel Ricciardo cheered as he came down to his living room on the morning of November first.

It had been a weird morning already. Danny had woken up alone, something he wasn't used to. And, if he did wake up alone, Y/N was usually in the bathroom. Not this time. His girlfriend was nowhere to be seen.

So, he made his way downstairs. When he heard the television on, things in his head clicked into place. She'd gotten up early and gone downstairs to watch television, of course.

But then Daniel walked into the room and properly looked at what Y/N was doing. She sat on the couch with two thick knitting needles in her hands and yarn on the floor in from of her. Some of the yarn was a lovely dark red, some was white and some was dark green. "What are you doing?"

As far as Daniel was aware, his girlfriend had no idea how to knit. He didn't even know she had knitting needles. But she sat on the couch, knitting away, the two needles clacking together as she went. Her brow was furrowed and her tongue was poking out as she worked. No, Y/N didn't know how to knit.

When she got to a good place to stop, Y/N held up her needles, calling Daniel what she had been working on. "Grandma sent me some supplies so I could make you a Christmas sweater," she answered.

Daniel had a bit of a reputation in the F1 community. A reputation for his Christmas sweaters. The most notorious of the Christmas sweaters? Why, the jingle my bells sweater, of course.

"Baby," he said, drawing out the word as he sat beside her on the sofa. "You don't know how to knit."

She waved him off, dropping one of her needles. It slid out of the yarn, dropping to the floor. "I'm watching Youtube to learn, Danny," she said as she reached down to pick up the needle.

Instead of threading it back through the yarn, Y/N pulled out her other needle, pulled apart her work and started again.

Danny watched her. It was slow work at first, and he soon realised why she started so early on in the year. His eyes focused on her hands as she cast back on and began knitting once again.

Y/N had to stop and start several times before she finally got it right. Daniel sat on the couch with her, arm around her as she worked. Several times she held her knit work against his stomach (taking a moment to touch his abs. But, come on, who could resist?)

It took weeks, near to a month of constant work before Y/N finally finished with Daniel's Christmas jumper. She worked as they travelled, while she was supposed to be watching Daniel race.

It was perfect timing, really. She got it finished just before December began. Wrapping it up, Y/N placed it in a box, wrapped the box and finished it with a bow.

She gave it to Daniel on the first of December, exactly a month after he'd seen her start to make it. It was red with little green stripes and white reindeers that was clearly having sex.

"I love it," he said as soon as he unwrapped it. "You couldn't have done anything more perfect for me."

"Try it on then!" Y/N urged.

So, Daniel did exactly as she asked and tried on the jumper. He didn't take it off for the entire month of December. No matter what country he was in, he stayed in his Christmas jumper. No matter how hot and sweaty he got, he stayed in his Christmas jumper.

The best part of it? Y/N learnt how to knit. She began knitting everything. So, so many hats for winter. Gloves and scarves and blankets and sweaters and tops and bags. Anything Y/N could make, she did.

Daniel wore it all proudly. Where he used to wear his Red Bull and AlphaTauri shirts, he now wore whatever Y/N knitted for him.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo fluff #dr3 #dr3 imagine #dr3 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader

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remuslupinslittleslut · 10 months

Text

Amy's Kinkmas Day Seven

Stockings - Poly!Marauders x Reader

Kinkmas Masterlist.

Pulling on a sweater dress over your frame, you take a careful look in the mirror. It was Christmas day and for the first time you’d be spending it with your boyfriends at one of their houses, James had invited all of you to the Potter’s for the holidays.

“Looking so pretty, babe”, James said, as he came up behind you, arms wrapped around your waist.

“Thank you, love”, you say, turning in his arms and giving him a kiss, “let’s go down to the others, yeah?” You didn’t want things to escalate with James right now, wanting to keep the surprise which hid beneath your dress a secret.

At the dinner table, you were sat across from James, who sat next to Remus, with Sirius to your side. Halfway through, a hand landed on your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress up to grab at the flesh of your thigh. You blush as Sirius chokes on his drink, having finally found the edge of your stockings. It almost hurt how hard he squeezed your thigh, and you knew he was communicating nonverbally with Remus and James from across the table. In order to not ruin the whole surprise, you stop his hand before it reaches your core, locking your fingers with his and giving his hand a squeeze.

After Christmas dinner and the opening of presents, the four of you finally retreat to James’ bedroom, “All right princess, dress off, what’re you hiding under this?”

Your cheeks burn, you know they’ll like this, but you still feel nervous about taking your dress off, feeling like you have something to show off. Still, you take the hem of the dress, pulling it up your body before discarding it on the floor next to you. You’re left in thigh high stockings, lacy underwear with an open crotch, and a corset style bra. They’d asked you to wear stockings like these before, but you’d turned them down, feeling awkward in this type of extravagant lingerie, but today, you had decided to try it out.

“Wow, princess…”

“That’s…”

“Hot.”

You felt three pairs of eyes locked on you, looking you up and down in turns. You’d thought you’d feel uncomfortable in this, but you found that you really did enjoy it, you felt sexy, felt appreciated being watched like this, in this.

Climbing up on James’ bed you make yourself comfortable, “I thought you could unwrap your final gift of today”, you say, smiling sweetly at your boyfriends.

Said and done, they take their sweet time joining you in the bed, manhandling you to see you in this tiny outfit(?) from behind, making your pussy poke out deliciously from the hole in your panties, which, with the help of your stockings, frame your arse perfectly.

Not being able to see behind you in this position, you’re not quite sure whose lips attach to your pussy first, but the person’s hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer, making you moan from the touch. Soon, Sirius is at your head, brushing your hair out of your face, telling you sweet words, “hi baby, you’re so pretty for us, such a good girl, love you so much.”

From behind you James is whining, “Moony, move, ‘s my turn”, so Remus was the one eating you out. Deciding it best to share, Remus moves away, leaving your cunt without touch, but only for a few moments, because soon, James is there, tongue licking long stripes, collecting your wetness and moaning at the taste. Before long, his mouth also leaves your leaking cunt, in favor of kissing down your thighs, pulling at the fabric of your stockings with his teeth, “So sexy, love, d’you do all this for us? Such a sweet girl”, his lips return to your core, fingers teasing your entrance.

In front of you, Sirius has taken off his trousers, leaving him in tented pants, hard cock facing you. His hand holds your cheek, lifting it slightly, “can I have your mouth, pretty girl?”– “please”. Your hands reach up to free him from the confines of stained boxers, pulling him out and wasting not time enclosing your mouth around his pretty cock.

Remus doesn’t even let you relax around Sirius as he comes up next to you, hard cock hanging along his thigh, taking your hand and placing it around him, letting you know what to do. It’s so lovely, James lapping at your cunt, Sirius filling your mouth and Remus heavy cock in your hand, you feel so loved and appreciated, so sexy like this, knowing they loved your little lingerie surprise. The sensation from James’ lips makes you moan around Sirius, sending vibrations through his cock, making his hips buck, pushing further down into you.

“Fuck, baby, stop, ‘m gonna cum, wanna fill you up”, he says, tugging you away by the hair, “Jamie, ‘s my turn now, I haven’t had her pussy all night”, he whines, giving his best pout.

Seeing the opportunity of your empty mouth, Remus soon replaces the emptiness with his own cock, “that’s a good girl, good little cockslut, yeah?”

Remus’ words and the feeling of Sirius pushing himself in, to the hilt in one go is too much and without warning, you’re coming, “oh isn’t that just adorable, barely in yet, and the little baby’s already coming”, Sirius mocks. His fingers push in beneath your stockings, pulling the fabric away from your skin as his hips push against yours harshly, head poking at your g-spot with every thrust. Your mouth falls completely open, unable to properly suck Remus, forcing you to bring your hands up to wrap around him, only keeping the tip in your open mouth, fingers doing all the work, “Fuck, love, you’re so sexy”, Remus praises, hips bucking and cock emptying all it’s juices all over your mouth and lower face.

Remus’ come, along with Sirius cock splitting you in half makes you come again, walls clamping down around Sirius, who drags you closer using the fingers stuck in your stockings, ripping them apart, the action sending him over the edge, filling your little cunt with white hot spurts of love. Remus has already moved away from your mouth, likely in order to wipe his messy cock down, and as Sirius pulls out, you collapse on the bed, face diving into a pillow.

Feeling completely fucked out, you realize James hadn’t gotten the chance to come. Using all your strength you flip over, laying on your back, looking properly disheveled, torn stockings barely hanging on to your legs, face covered in Remus’ cum, and bra still pushed down, showing your tits. You gesture for James to come sit over your middle, hands coming up to wrap around him, jerking him slowly, not having much energy left. Still, though, the feeling of finally having someone touch his cock makes him moan and whine above you, hips bucking into your little fists. “You’re so pretty, love, gonna come now, paint you with my cum, like a painting, you’re pretty like a painting, babe”, he always gets rambly when he’s close, it’s so endearing. Your hands move faster, pushing him over the edge, making him spill all over your chest, a few spurts even reaching your chin, mixing with Remus’. Your tongue pokes out to lick some of it up.

“That, love, was amazing”

“Yeah, you’re so good, so sexy, so pretty for us”

“Gonna clean you up now, then we’ll have cuddles, yeah?”

Kinkmas taglist: @alexander-arcturus-black-lupin @hearts4court @delulu4marauders

#amathelia writes #mywriting #james potter #marauders era #remus lupin #smut #marauders #james potter smut #sirius black #fanfic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #james potter x reader #Amy's Kinkmas 2023 #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #kinkmas

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vee6lolz · 18 days

Note

hello!!! how are you?

i was thinking about spencer meeting a teacher hehe I'm not so good at describing it, but maybe she's giving private lessons for a kid's neighbour of his and then they meet at the elevator of the building? pretty please? 😍

𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖙. -- spencer reid x teacher!reader.

warnings/tags: (fluff!) , teacher / chaotic (but sweet) reader.

a/n: i had so much fun writing this help me i love u to whoever suggested it

wc: 1.9k !!

summary: you're a teacher whose putting in the work for summer school students, you wake up late one day and even though it seemed like the most inconvenient thing ever, it worked out in your favor after all.

NOT PROOF READ + ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

The morning sun spilled through the gaps in the curtains, casting stripes of light across the tangled mess of blankets in your bed. You blinked groggily, your eyes heavy and puffy from too little sleep and too many regrets. As you rubbed the remnants of last night from your eyes, your phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a string of missed calls. Four from your ex, two from his best friend. A dull ache settled in your chest—a reminder of things you’d just rather forget.

You groaned, realizing you had returned none of them. Not that you had the time, or the patience. Rolling out of bed, an overwhelming wave of yesterday’s choices washed over you; you reeked of sweat and something faintly reminiscent of cheap wine. Your gaze flicked to the clock on the wall—12:30. Oh shit. You were late.

With an urgency you hadn’t felt in days, you scrambled to gather yourself, moving your hair out of your face as you stumbled towards the bathroom, your heart racing along with the consequences of your procrastination.

you stumbled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face in an effort to shake off the fog of last night. the cool rush did little to calm your racing heart as you hastily brushed your teeth, already scanning the small space for something—anything—that was clean to wear.

just as you reached for a shirt that suspiciously looked like it might’ve been worn yesterday, your phone buzzed again. the caller id read “mrs. henderson,” one of your students' moms. with a sigh, you answered, knowing you had no choice.

“hello, mrs. henderson,” you greeted, trying to inject some cheer into your voice.

“yes, ma’am,” you replied, wincing at the urgency in her tone. “yes, i am on my way right now, stuck in traffic.” you glanced at the clock again; the minutes were slipping away.

as you hurriedly threw on a wrinkled pair of pants, you glanced out the window and noticed the swarm of cars barely inching along. your frustration bubbled over, and without thinking, you shouted toward the street, “come on! move it already!”

“ugh, you know how it goes during rush hour,” you continued to mrs. henderson, half-exasperated and half-amused at your own antics. “yes, almost there, buh bye!” you ended the call with a shaky laugh, shaking your head at the chaos of your morning.

with adrenaline pumping and a mounting sense of urgency, you quickly pulled a sweater over your head, choosing to ignore the wrinkles. tugging on your shoes, you grabbed your bag and took one last look in the mirror. you could only hope today wasn’t a complete disaster—and that you wouldn’t have to dodge any more frantic phone calls.

you got out of your car and parked in guest parking, the summer sun pouring through the window, painting the seats in golden hues. instead of lounging on a beach somewhere, sipping piña coladas and listening to the sound of gentle waves, you were stuck in summer school with one specific student. your friends were sharing stories of tropical adventures while you were grading notes on multiplication and grammar. it wasn’t that the student was a bad kid; in fact, she had been a solid performer until the semester began to slip away from her. she was bright but had a stubborn streak that kept her from doing anyone else’s work, that is, until she met you, ms. [l/n]. the school administration figured that since you had built such a great rapport with her, why not sacrifice a little vacation time to help ensure the girl wouldn’t flunk? and if they thought you were just going to say yes because you felt bad... then yeah, they were right. god you hated teaching summer school.

as you arrived and, rushed down the hall, you hit the button for the elevator, tapping it with increasing impatience as the minutes slipped away. the elevator door stood stubbornly closed. you groaned and hit the button again and again, tapping it with a combination of desperation and frustration.

“having trouble?” a voice chimed from behind you. you turned to see a tall figure walking toward you, his frame around six feet tall, effortlessly commanding the small space. he had tousled dark hair, and his cheekbones were high and defined, complemented by a slight smile. his eyes were a striking shade of hazel, an unusual mix that seemed to shift with the light. he wore a fitted black shirt that accentuated his lean frame, paired with dark suit pants. he looked almost too perfect—a professor-type, but a bad one. like someone who could educate you on the theory of relativity and then do things to you you would never forget.

“uh, yeah. it won't budge,” you admitted, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you briefly noted how attractive he was. he approached the elevator panel and swiftly pressed the actual button—of course, the one you had been mashing fruitlessly. the elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and you stepped inside, feeling a mix of gratitude and intrigue.

“thank you,” you said, glancing at him as the doors closed. you stood next to each other in the cramped space, and you couldn’t help but eye him curiously. he seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, occasionally looking down at his hands. you couldn’t figure out why he was so quiet, but you didn’t dwell on it for long; your focus was on arriving to the door.

as the elevator hummed its way to your destination, you noticed the number flashing above the door. to your surprise, you were headed to the same floor. just as you reached it, you both instinctively moved toward the door at the same time.

“oh, after you,” he offered, his voice smooth and lightly teasing. your heart raced again, not just from the sense of urgency but also from how charming his laugh was. you couldn't help but notice the way it seemed to echo around you, making you want to hear it again.

“no, please. after you,” you insisted in return, and you both found yourselves caught in an awkward dance, both trying to let the other go first, unable to decide who should step out first.

“after you,” he repeated, laughter dancing in his voice, and just like that, you nodded, cheeks slightly warm, before stepping out of the elevator. as you walked past him, you felt the warmth of his presence lingering, and that laugh—oh, God if you weren't so late right now...

you sat across from your young student at the small kitchen table, surrounded by a mix of colorful worksheets, pencils, and books. The late afternoon light poured in through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. The little girl diligently worked on her times tables, the crinkled paper a testament to her determination.

As you glanced occasionally at her progress, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of fulfillment. Teaching had its challenges, but moments like these reminded you why you loved it. You caught yourself smiling—genuine, unfiltered joy spilling over as the girl successfully rattled off another multiplication fact. but you also caught yourself remembering the tall man in the elevator, you smirked to yourself even more.

In a moment of concentration, she looked up and noticed. “You’re smiling a lot!” she blurted out, her eyes wide with curiosity. You chuckled softly, caught off guard by her observation. “I guess I am,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

“My neighbor down the hall works for the FBI,” she announced with an important air. Her youthful confidence was contagious. “He’s a profiler or something, and he says that when someone’s smiling a lot, it means that something happened to make them happy.”

“Yeah, I saw something that made me happy alright,” you said lighter than you intended, before a wave of realization washed over you. maybe that wasn’t... appropriate to say in front of a fourth grader. Your mind raced as you searched for a safe response.

“What does that mean?” She asked, you stammered and stuttered and asked. “Well, uh-- Hey would you look at that its almost time for me to go.” She looked at you curiously, clearly pondering what you’d said. There was a peculiar wisdom in her gaze, and you quickly ushered her away.

After a final glance around the apartment, you slipped on your coat and grabbed your bag, feeling the familiar excitement of stepping out into the bustling world again. The hallway felt cozy as you made your way to the elevator, your footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft chiming sound, you stepped inside, your mind drifting to thoughts of your next tutoring session and the plans you had for the weekend. Just as the doors were about to close, they jolted back open, and a man stepped in—tall, with tousled dark hair and a warm smile that lit up his face. He glanced over at you, and you instinctively looked up, catching his gaze. In that moment, time seemed to stand still amid the commotion of your lives outside.

A smile broke across your face, a soft, inviting expression that mirrored his own. And without thinking, you spoke up, "You came in this morning, but you're leaving this afternoon." you said, without thinking. It sounded creep to me, but he understood what I meant. He nodded, "Yeah my job it uh-- I work for the uh-- Behavioral Analysis Unit for the FBI." your jaw drops, and he looks, but not limited to, concerned. "Is everything--" "Yeah its just uhm, funny enough my student, I think she was talking about you today-- I teach, so," you mutter out, letting out a breathy laugh.

"She 'profiler..ed'? me, I guess. I was smiling and she knew that something happened this morning to make me smile. She said she got it from you," he looked in complete and udder awe as he let out a chuckle. he nodded, then thinking for a bit. The elevator dinged, and instead of parting ways there, you guys walked the parking lot together. "Anderson? The little one," He said, making the motion with his hand to the side of his hip. You nodded your head in agreement. "Yeah she's really bright," he adds with a smile.

You agree with him, and look at him with curiosity in your eye. "Why were you smiling this morning?". The question lingers through the air, as he gives that laugh, that laugh, that he gave this morning that you almost risked everything for, filling the silence.

"You were staring, really hard." You feel your whole world shatter in embarrassment as those five words escape his lips, you laugh out of complete shock and horror as he can't help but begin to join you out of response to your reaction. "It's okay, it was just funny. Plus, I was too.". You let that stay in the air for a bit— those gorgeous hazel eyes looking down into yours, you smiled. And that's all you did. He walked you to your car, making sure you got there safely. And before he could walk off to his own, you spoke out. "Hey would you— happen to have a card? Just incase I wanna talk to you about, profiling or, the right buttons on the elevator." You say, realizing how stupid that sounding coming out. But he didn't think so, not at all. "Or incase I just wanna, talk to you..." Your voice fading out as he walked back over to you. Spencer Reid.

"I'll be expecting a call from you, you know. About, the right buttons on the elevator." He smiled, chuckling out. You nodded your head. 'will do...' you thought to yourself as you turned the engine on, letting the rumbling of your car fill your ears for a moment.

oh thank, God, to being late.

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hydriad81194 · 6 months

Text

WOOO RANDOM DEATH FAMILY HEADCANONS

Lmao sorry pissa and death family nation for being somewhat inactive, take these headcanons that probably don’t align with canon as compensation

THIS IS ABOUT THE CHARACTERS NOT CONTENT CREATORS BTW

Not a single person in the Death Family is warm to touch and can often be cold before bed, their houses and nests are always somehow really warm and blanket full

Missa and Phil built a small shelf in the kitchen in the house at old spawn, Missa and Chayanne have filled it with cookbooks

Tallulah knows how to make perfume and because Missa has been away for a while, Tallulah has been making perfumes for him for when he gets back

Adding onto the last one, there have been lots of ‘failed attempts’, ie Tallulah was being nit picky with the scents and trying to figure out exactly what he likes

Missa will like anything and everything given to him, so long as it’s made with love

Phil, on the other hand, will like everything and anything given to him even if it’s given with hate, because he assumes the other has a connection to it (assumes they might just like things like he does)

When Missa first left on the old spawn Phil used to make small dinners for him that wouldn’t go bad for a while just in case Missa came back when he came back

Overtime, they would get more complex and put in the fridge with a note left for him

Every single meal, regardless of what it is, will have toast cut in the shape of Phil’s had with avocado making the green stripes, and another toast cut like a skull with blueberries for the details

Chayanne used to stress bake when his parents were gone, and that improved his skills in cooking really quickly

Tallulah walks extremely quietly, Chayanne picked this up and it scares Phil every time

Despite his parents vibes and all that, Chayanne refuses to wear black sweaters specifically, shirts are on thin ice and black k shorts or pants are a coin flip, this is because he doesn’t like flour showing on them when he doesn’t want to use an apron

Tallulah used to pick at her nails when nervous, but started picking at flowers instead and now her nails hurt if she scratches you

It doesn’t matter who you are, if you become apart of the Death Family, the first thing you’re taught is how to paint your nails

When Phil doesn’t have a bookmark with him and when his wings had healed enough, he would pluck a feather out and use it as a bookmark

Either Phil or Missa doggy ears pages in a book and genuinely can’t tell who, I just think one of them does even if they have a bookmark available

There are a shit ton of keychains on Phil’s bag, you give him one, it could be of anything (besides anything fed related), it’s going on that bag

Phil sometimes wishes he could proper speak bird, I guess, this is only so he could also flirt with and compliment Missa in another language like he does

Chayanne has crocs

When Tallulah cut her hair, she asked for a photo of Missa and mimicked his hairstyle

Whenever Missa is awake/goes to sleep with Phil, the eggs silently rejoice because those two hug each other extremely closely when they sleep

Despite Missa being gone for the longest time, when Phil didn’t come back on Mexican Independence Day, he developed a fear of him leaving him, like physically being far away when he didn’t know where he is and if he was okay, he understands now what Phil feels when he’s gone

Missa, because he’s the tallest between a bird man and children, will pick them up and spin them, even if only for a bit lmao he’s not strong

Adding onto that one, whenever Phil is too excited or stress or just overwhelmed with any emotions, Missa spins him around to help and it works for some reason

Phil started to spin himself in circles when overwhelmed and when Missa was gone

After the birdhouse and when Phil was physically alone, he used to sit by a crafting table with rocks and ores and make little figures of Chayanne, Tallulah and Missa, they weren’t the best and didn’t the proportions weren’t amazing, but he spent weeks on each one and added little faces with a marker

He left the Chayanne and Tallulah statues on their respective beds, with Missa beside the flower pot, hoping they would be replaced with the real people when he woke up

They never were, but Phil put them in the window upstairs once the eggs were back

When the eggs first went missing, Phil took out some cookbooks, and every single meal that looked frequently used/visited was made, and always left out for Missa

If they weren’t eaten, Phil would eat half of it for his dinner the next day, the other half in a fridge

He actually made Missa a fridge to put all these meal in and painted it to suit his vibes

The trash cans used to always filled with sticky notes because everyday, Phil would write ‘Dinner for you’ with a silly little doodle on it for Missa if he returned while sleeping

Tallulah writes in cursive

When Missa was gone, Phil used to write his name like Misƨa (second s is backwards) and make the tops each s look like half a heart, so it made a heart in his name

Missa picked up on this and always wrote Philza instead of Phil so he could put a heart with the z and a

Im bad at explaining so this is what I mean by their names:

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mcflymemes · 9 months

Text

PROMPTS FROM SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS * some of my favorite quotes from the show, adjust as necessary

his chops are too righteous!

it’s evil. it’s diabolical. it’s lemon scented!

lord knows i’ve tried.

two words. na. chos.

yeah, i get called that a lot.

it's just a cruel reminder that i'm single and likely to remain that way forever.

what doesn't kill you usually succeeds in the second attempt.

stupidity isn't a virus, but it sure is spreading like one.

goodbye everyone, i’ll remember you all in therapy.

don't you have to be stupid somewhere else?

i used to have a kidney stone. everything passes eventually.

you can't fool me. i listen to public radio!

stop it, [name], you're scaring him!

do instruments of torture count?

give to the children's fund? what have the children ever done for me?

this is not your average, everyday darkness. this is... advanced darkness.

what's better than serving up smiles?

i guess i'm not wearing any pants today.

did you smell it? that smell. a kind of smelly smell. the smelly smell that smells… smelly.

wake me up when i care.

look at all the hip, young people eating salads!

he was so ugly that everyone died.

the best time to wear a striped sweater is all the time!

well, the way i see it, there are three possibilites.

hibernation is the opposite of beauty sleep.

that’s it mister! you just lost your brain privileges!

good people don’t rip other people’s arms off.

well, we lost our car again.

pull your pants up. we’re going home.

you were right. fighting is for children.

i’m a good noodle!

remember, licking doorknobs is illegal on other planets.

your ceiling is talking to me!

we don’t need television.

the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.

i’ll have you know i stubbed my toe last week while watering my spice garden and i only cried for twenty minutes.

hey, if i close my eyes, it doesn’t seem so dark.

is mayonnaise an instrument?

those are some big words. i’ve never heard you use them before.

my vocabulary is infinitely expanding.

we destroyed your most prized possession.

we shall never deny a guest even the most ridiculous request.

let’s see, a five letter word for happiness. money.

can i have everybody’s attention?

i have to use the bathroom.

do you know what day today is?

could you not stand so close? you’re making me claustrophobic.

i used your clarinet to unclog my toilet.

are they laughing at us?

if you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.

he needs us now more than ever.

what is today, but yesterday’s tomorrow?

ice is just a myth.

this working out thing isn’t working out.

i can’t see my forehead.

i have a good idea, and no one else thinks so.

look at you, so young and happy.

i prefer to be an idiot!

sounds like a pretty good deal to me, what do you say?

don’t be sad, buddy. turn that frown upside down!

i’m ugly and i’m proud!

good! say it louder!

i can’t do it! i can’t be away from my best friend!

i need you! i can’t handle this myself!

i’m just going on vacation for a few days.

i was kinda hoping that you come along with us…

enjoy the cake everybody!

now we never have to be apart, even when we’re not together.

this is great. see you forever!

i have to keep you safe while i get some work done!

maybe he doesn’t like us.

no, are you kidding?

i propose a toast to new friends!

i guess i’ll have to move in back with my mom and dad.

he’s a thief. look at the lust in his eye…

why can’t you just accept our friendship?

#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters #mcflymemes #spongebob squarepants

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter two

summary: you decided to meet luca, taking him up on his offer to return the favor, and it gives the both of you the opportunity to get to know each other better.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2777

a/n: for an america's indepedence day, have a hot brit and a love story that takes place in denmark lmao. okay so now we're all caught up with what i wrote for the headcanon and boy do i have some surprises in store for you next. thank you so much for all of the reactions to chapter one and the headcanon. this story has weaseled its way into my heart and has taken over my brain. i'm writing it for me but it's nice to hear others are enjoying it too. anyways, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

chapter one | masterlist | chapter three

“You have to go!” Jesper insists with the kind of conviction of a damn good lawyer.

“I don’t have to anything,” you reply, making sure to emphasize the word ‘have.’

“No, you have to go,” Mathilde chimes in, a little softer, a little kinder than her brother’s earlier encouragement.

After your post-shift meeting, everyone had gone home, save for the three of you – the Mikkelson twins cornering you about Luca’s thank-you-card proposition.

“Well, since you both keep harping on it, why don’t you come with me?” you suggest, in an attempt to shift the focus off of you.

Your eyes scan their faces, trying to get a read on the both of them as Jesper and Mathilde exchange a pointed look, having the kind of non-verbal exchange that only comes from having shared every moment of their lives together.

“What?” you ask, looking back and forth from Mathilde to Jesper again.

“It wasn’t addressed to us,” Mathilde points out with a shrug, a sly look on her face. “It was only addressed to you.”

“Looks like someone has a crush,” Jesper adds with a smirk.

“He doesn’t have a crush!” you protest without hesitation, your heart seizing for a moment.

“A talent crush,” Mathilde reasons, knowing that anything more than a talent-crush would talk you out of going entirely.

“Would it be the worst thing in the world if he did?” Jesper continues, much to both you and Mathilde’s chagrin. “I mean, when was the last time you got-, ow!”

Sharply cut off by an elbow to the rib, Jesper glares at his sister before returning his attention to you.

“I’m just saying! He’s sexy. He’s a chef at one of the best restaurants in the world. You could do worse for yourself,” Jesper clarifies, earning another glare from his sister.

He has a point, but you ignore it, because you’re not really sure if you’re ready to go there just yet. You think it over, and after giving it another moment, you open your mouth to speak again.

“Alright, I’ll go,” you sigh in resignation, earning a few celebratory comments and gasps from the twins. “Are you both happy now?”

And that’s how – after at least an hour of stressing out about what to wear to a place like this – you find yourself standing in front of a closed restaurant on a day where almost everything is closed in Denmark. You’d settled on a pair of wide leg denim pants, a square toed boot appropriate for navigating the Copenhagen cobblestone, and a white and black striped sweater, slightly tucked into the front of your jeans that hangs loosely from your frame.

Classic. Put-together enough for a two-starred Michelin restaurant on closed day. Certainly not a date kind of outfit.

Luca proves once again to be punctual as ever as he greets you at the front door, right on time. He wears a blue t-shirt that seems to emphasize his already intense blue eyes with a navy-colored apron layered over top of it.

“You came,” are the first words he says to you, a wide smile spreading across his lips as soon as he sees you.

“Yeah I uh-, thank you. For inviting me,” you stammer, nervously searching for the right words.

“Thank you for coming. Well, c’mon then!” he encourages, nodding towards the inside as he holds the door open for you.

“Did you find the place alright?” Luca asks you, as you follow him.

He leads you into the vaulted basement – the space that makes up the Danish-style, fine dining restaurant that’s been a leader in innovation. You follow Luca through the closed dining room, back into the kitchen, and then into the pastry room as you answer his question, mentioning that it wasn’t too long of a walk and that you found the place just fine.

As soon as you see what he’s been working on, it renders you near-speechless. You can see that he’s been hard at work – on his day off, no less – almost as if he knew you would come.

“Would you like to have a seat?” he offers, gesturing towards the pastry bench.

“Uh.. yeah. That’d be great. I-, um… thank you… again, for inviting me,” you answer, watching as he brings a stool over to it, setting up a little space for you.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. It’s really the least I can do. Think after this we’re uh… what 5 to 1?” he replies casually, in reference to the fact that he’ll only have fed you once in comparison to the amount of times he’s come to the restaurant.

You chuckle, returning with a playful, “Well, I don’t think anyone’s keeping score.”

He sends a crooked smile your way, one that you know you’ll be thinking about for the rest of the week, before exchanging a laugh with you.

“Just think of it as a thank you. For the great meals. For the hospitality,” he continues, as you watch him plate his gelee-focused dish. First the chocolate, then yellow, white, and green. A carefully tweezed wafer on top.

“This is a shiso gelee with a chocolate mint ganache, finished with a thin slice of marzipan, and a caramel cracker. It’s from our current menu,” Luca introduces, walking you through the dish like you walked him through your crispy rice and trumpet mushroom dish.

He pushes the plate-that-looks-more-like-a-pedestal towards you for you to try, his eyes meeting yours. Luca studies you carefully as you pick up the fork he’s set out for you, cutting through the gelee for your first bite. He watches as you scoop up a little of the ganache, making sure to get a bit of the cracker as well.

You’re creating a perfect bite – one with a little bit of everything – just like he’d done with the first dish of yours he had a month or so ago.

As you raise the fork to your lips, taking your first bite, the vibrant flavors hit your tongue with surprise and brilliance that you weren’t expecting. It’s somehow new, innovative, yet nostalgic all at once.

“Oh my god,” you say with a sigh of pure bliss. You savor each and every flavor, taking your time with your first bite before continuing with: “It’s almost like-.”

“A minty snickers bar?” he offers up with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“That’s exactly it!” you cry out with joy.

He smiles proudly, “Yeah, it’s a nice dish.”

“So how long have you been doing this? Cooking…? Or have you done Pastry the whole time?” you ask, digging into the rest of the gelee.

“About fourteen years… give or take. Started when I was a kid… just washing dishes… was a bit of a rebel…. The kitchen gave me a place to land,” he shares with an ease and charm that makes you feel like you could tell him all of your secrets.

“Yeah, no I-, I get that,” you agree, enjoying your second bite of Luca’s shiso dish.

“Gave my mum a little peace of mind. That’s for sure. Don’t think I was an easy kid to raise,” he continues as you listen.

“Didn’t start pastry till about three years ago or so. Went mostly the fine dining route… worked my way up to sous position at a really great place, but wasn’t interested in moving up the ranks in that regard. Decided it was time to try something different.”

You nod with respect for his decision for change.

“Where’d you grow up?” you ask curiously, watching him wipe down the pastry bench with a clean towel as he begins to prepare for a second dish.

“London,” he answers.

“Oh! I uh, lived there for a few years, actually,” you say, sharing a familiar smile with him.

“What about you? Where’d you grow up? And how long have you been cooking for?” he asks, shifting the focus of the conversation to you.

“Boston,” you reply.

He hums in response, “I’ve never been. What was that like?”

“Boston is great. Good weather, great food, interesting people. ‘S actually where I learned how to cook. My mom’s a single parent so… I spent a lot of time at our neighbor’s house… and their restaurant. They still own this Italian restaurant that’s like… been in the family for a hundred or so years and I practically grew up there,” you explain, sharing parts of yourself – of your story – in return.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, an amused look on his face.

“Yeah, we hung out there a lot when we were kids – me and my best friend. Then when I was old enough to work, I marched in one day after school and pitched myself for a job, demanding that I cook and that I’d accept nothing less” you reminisce trying your best to recreate the bold confidence of your fifteen year old self.

Luca chuckles in response, “That’s incredible,”

“I was a rather precocious child,” you add, laughing with a fondness for that previous version of you.

He smiles, “Yeah, I know the feeling well.”

Luca clears his throat, pulling out a clean bowl and beginning to plate something new. He explains that this one is a savory dish, starting with a fermented sourdough cracker as he walks you through the flavor profiles of each component, mentioning that it’s got to be one of his favorites on the menu so far.

“I’m up for sharing if you are,” you suggest, in response to his last comment.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You watch as Luca picks up another fork, digging into the dish with you. There’s an intimacy that comes from sharing a meal with someone – eating off the same plate, enjoying the same sensory experience, quite literally breaking bread – that makes Luca feel less and less like a stranger to you with each bite. You still can’t believe that he’s done this for you – that you’re here – and while you’re not sure why, you lean into a softness, allowing yourself to enjoy it while it’s happening.

“Did you go to culinary school?” you ask him, over your last few shared bites.

“No, what about you?” he replies quickly.

“No, I actually majored in business,” you answer, earning a hum from him.

“Huh…” he sounds, with a raise of both eyebrows in surprise.

“I know…” you groan, with a playful eye roll more so directed at yourself. “My first career was in finance… account management. Then I did the whole investment thing for a while… it was uh… really sexy stuff, I know.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who would’ve been happy doing something like that,” Luca observes, only surprising you a little that he’d be able to pick up on something like that so quickly.

“Oh no. I wasn’t. I was miserable,” you echo in agreement. You take a breath, and a beat, before explaining. “It was more of… a wish fulfillment thing, I think. For my mom. I mean, it wasn’t my dream, by any means. But having stability was important to me, to my mom…. To my partner at the time.”

“And now?”

You wait a beat before answering.

“And now… I’m just… figuring it out as I go.”

Your eyes flicker over the ‘every second counts’ sign that hangs on the wall while Luca busses the table once again, sharing that he’s got one more dish he’d like for you to try. You settle into a quiet rhythm as you sit back and allow him to provide an experience unlike any other you’ve had. You watch him carefully as he moves around the kitchen prepping for his last dish, taking in each and every tattoo visible on his arms.

“Every second counts,” you speak out loud, returning your attention to the sign.

“Yeah,” he nods, turning his attention to where you’re looking. “It’s uh-, something an old head chef of mine used to say. Really stuck with me.”

You nod in agreement as he pulls out a final dessert plate.

“‘S actually what brought me to you,” he continues, in reference to the sign. “An old friend of mine called me for a favor. He’s opening a new restaurant and wanted their patissier to come stage here for a bit.”

Luca begins plating his final dish using a few pastry rings, a clean pair of tweezers, and berries left macerating in a deli container with a laser focus that you’d expect from a pastry chef at a two-starred Michelin restaurant.

“We got into… this whole conversation about inspiration. How to find it. Where to find it. I told him he’s gotta be open… to everything. To things out there. That that’s how you succeed in this industry – how you set yourself apart,” Luca adds, impressing you with his precision of plating while sharing something so personal.

“It reminded me that… it’s been a while since I’ve opened myself up to… well… anything outside of this place.”

“No, yeah, I totally get it. It’s easy to get lost in it – it being the four walls of your restaurant. Running a restaurant is relentless. One minute you put your head down and the next…” you empathize with him.

“It’s three weeks later.”

“Yeah.”

“Which leads me to why I asked you here,” Luca segways, as he finishes his final dish. “I ran into a little bit of writers’ block – or rather, chef’s block, if you will – working on our Summer menu.”

He presents the dish towards you, earning a gasp from you as you take in the stunning creation.

“Knew I needed to get out of here for a beat. Get out of my head. Get some new perspectives.”

“Is this for your new menu?” you ask, your eyes devouring the cake-based dish first.

“Maybe… just something I’ve been working on – something that’s been floating around in my head a while,” he shrugs, watching you carefully as he tries to search your face for any kind of reaction.

You dig your fork into the spongey, tea-soaked, circular layered cake, raising it to your lips and immediately finding pure joy as you taste it.

Yuzu. Earl Grey. The cake is almost like a lady finger – tiramisu-like in the way that it eats – filled with a yuzu curd in between each layer of cake, then finished with what you can only assume is a sort of black sesame dust that he’s sifted over top of the dish.

“Woah,” is all that comes out of your mouth.

“Yeah?” Luca questions, unable to hide the smile that spreads across his lips.

“Yeah uh… Why does this feel so familiar? It’s like… you’re reading my mind with this one,” you ask, your eyes wide savor each note.

“Well, it should. Feel familiar, that is. It’s inspired by you,” Luca explains, treading carefully around the last few words.

“What do you-?” you begin to ask, before the words leave you.

You half expect him to tell you he’s joking, and you can’t tell whether or not it’s a blush running across his high cheekbones that you spot, as he turns his attention elsewhere. He begins moving around the kitchen, eager to begin cleaning up after himself to recover from the sheer vulnerability he feels from sharing this with you.

Was this why he’d invited you here?

“Luca,” you say, your words stopping him as he turns back to you.

“What’s up?” he asks, so casually, as if he hadn’t just called you his muse.

"All of this... you did all of this for me…. Why?" you muster up the courage to ask, the words falling out of your mouth with a weight you don’t expect.

He takes a beat, afraid of coming on too strong, considering you’ve only just met, yet wanting nothing more than to tell you the truth.

Luca sighs, choosing the latter, before laying it all out on the table.

"Your food is inspired and I don’t think I’ve had something this inspired in a long time,” he explains before pausing. “Your passion for Italian cuisine… weaving in the bits and pieces of yourself and approaching it from different culinary perspectives? You inspired me.”

He takes another beat.

“And as chefs, this is what we do. We feed each other."

You’re speechless, but you can feel yourself nodding in agreement as you mumble out the most reverent ‘thank you’ that you can muster. You can feel it – that this is the beginning of, well, you're not quite sure what – but whatever it is, you're glad he walked into your restaurant however many weeks ago.

“Luca?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He nods, one corner of his mouth turning up into a smile.

“Cheers.”

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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msmoony7 · 7 months

Text

Bookshop Romance

Remus Lupin x Reader

word count: 5.65k

fluff

Note: hope you guys enjoy! i'm going to be posting this on AO3 as well if you want to check it out there too. same username as here!

The bookstore is your favorite spot in town. You just love sitting in there and reading books. And the people watching as customers come in and out is another favorite activity of yours. You’ve lived in this town for a while now, ever since you graduated from university. The town is small and was just what you were looking for at this point in your life when you decided to move away from home. Your apartment is tiny, but you loved it regardless. It’s decorated with pictures and posters and trinkets, most of which are from the thrift store in the town. Your prized possession is your record and book collection, which takes up an embarrassing amount of space in your home. You love it anyways.

You discovered the bookshop quickly after you settled into your new home. You were on a walk exploring the town when the small sidewalk sign on the outside drew you in. Almost like it was meant to be. Since then, you’ve entered the door hundreds of times and plan on entering a hundred more.

You got a job at the local bakery, which gave you enough money for rent and other necessities, along with spending money. You integrated nicely into your small town living. You even made friends with the workers at the bookstore due to your frequent visits.

Your visits were sporadic but regardless, you developed a routine for what your visit would look like. You start off by grabbing a coffee at the cafe inside the shop,sometimes bringing along a little treat from the bakery. Then, you sit down in the cafe area and read however long your heart desires. You’ve spent as little as twenty minutes here and as long as seven hours. You love the simplicity of your routine and you do it as often as your life allows.

Today, you enter the bookstore and make your way to your usual spot in the back. Although very few people are ever in here at the same time, you still like to be in your own little world away from everyone. You reach into your tote bag and pull out the book you’re currently reading.

After a while of reading, you finally finish your book and your coffee. You make your way into the bookshelves to find your next read. Once in the aisles, you stumble upon a young worker putting books onto the shelves. You know every worker here by name, so you know that this is a new employee. You watch him from afar, mesmerized by his beauty. He has dark blonde hair that’s almost brown and has some curls. He’s bent over, but he looks pretty tall, and he’s wearing a brown and green striped knit sweater with brown corduroy pants and Dr. Martens. You didn’t think you believed in love at first sight but upon seeing this man, you’re rethinking your beliefs. He looks perfect and you can’t help but stare at him. You bring the strength to pull yourself away and you peruse the shelves some more before settling on a book that you’ve been meaning to read for a while and go to the register to check out.

“Hey, y/n, how’ve you been?” Lily, a worker who quickly became your best friend, asks you.

“Doin’ good, thanks. You?”

“Great,” she smiles. “Saw you eyeing up the new worker in the stacks,” she says with a teasing tone and cheeky smile.

“I was not!” you say, feeling the heat rise in your face.

“He’s cute, I don’t blame you. He’s pretty quiet, though. Keeps to himself. Too quiet for me, but perfect for you!”

“Oh god, Lil, you better shut it before he hears.”

“Oh calm down I’m just messing. He works every Saturday, though. So I expect to be seeing you here a lot more frequently.”

“Goodbye, Lily. I’ll see you soon,” you say with a laugh as you walk away.

“Every Saturday!” Lily shouts as the door is closing behind you.

You shake your head as heat fills your cheeks once more. You haven’t been with a guy in a while and the thought of having a new crush simultaneously thrilled you and filled you with anxiety.

You stop by the grocery store on the way home. Chicken was cheapest, so you made that for dinner along with some rice and asparagus. You love to cook, so you spend any time not at the bookstore in your kitchen. Once you finish eating, you light a fire in your fireplace and put on a record as you cozy up on your couch and begin reading the book you just bought.

—

The next few days go by slowly. The image of the cute new worker is etched in your brain and you find yourself thinking about him all the time. After what feels like years, Saturday finally comes around again and you find yourself getting ready to head to the bookstore. Your visits to the bookstore in the past were frequent but never consistent. You made your visits there around your schedule and would go whichever day fit best. Now, you feel a little silly planning your trip so specifically just to see a boy. But frankly, you don’t find it within yourself to let it impact you too much.

You put on your jacket and leave for the bookstore. It’s the beginning of winter, so you walk as quickly as your feet can carry you. The ten minute walk feels like 20 in the cold but finally, you enter the shop. Lily hears the bell ring and looks up to greet the customer and once seeing that it’s you, she laughs out loud.

“Not. A. Word,” you mutter to her as you head to your seat. It has a perfect view of the register, so Lily shoots you winks every now and then - knowing that you can see her and that she can see you - all of which you roll your eyes in response to.

The bookstore is small, so conversations can be heard from across the store. About an hour into reading your book, you hear Lily talking to the boy. “Hey Remus,” she all but shouts to him, knowing that you’re listening. “Can you go by the register while I wipe down the tables?” Remus, you think. That’s a cute name.

You can’t hear his response but he appears in your viewpoint a minute later. You find yourself staring at him once more. He sits down at the chair behind the register and begins reading a book. He looks perfect sitting there and you can’t help but stare.

“You’re welcome!” Lily shouts at you, knocking you out of your trance.

“Lily, he can hear you!” you whisper, trying to get her to be quiet.

“Yeah, whatever. With all your staring, I’m sure he’ll catch on eventually anyways. You know you’re visible from the register, right?” she teases. “I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you,” she says as she nudges your shoulder. She leaves to go back to the front of the store and leaves you to your book.

The next time you look up from your book, you realize that it’s almost time for the shop to close. You see Remus and Lily both doing their closing duty tasks and sheepishly get up from your table, embarrassed that you stayed there this long.

“Bye, Lily,” you say to her as you leave the store.

“Bye, y/n,” she winks at you, Remus right by her side. You avoid Remus’s eyes as you leave the store, already counting down the days till next Saturday.

—

Almost as slowly as last week, Saturday finally rolls around once more. You get to the bookshop a little later than you normally do. You only have a little bit left in your book to read, so you decided to spend your day doing other things, like running errands, and would finish the book at the shop.

“Almost thought you weren’t going to show up,” Lily says jokingly when she sees you walk in.

“I swear, you’re going to be the death of me.” You settle into your spot and do the same thing you’ve been doing the last few weeks. The simplicity and the repetition of your Saturday routine pleases you and has become something that you look forward to.

You ease into your novel and become wrapped in it, very close to the end and very excited to finish it. You hear Lily ask Remus to clean the tables, making a mental note to yell at her later, but go back to focus on your book. One, because you want to finish it. But also because it would help you avoid eye contact with him.

Finishing the book takes a little longer than expected. Stealing glances at Remus a little too frequently probably didn’t help. You finally finish and close your book and rest it on the table.

“I really like that book,” you hear Remus say from a few feet to your left as he’s cleaning a table.

“Oh, yeah. It was really good. Kinda sad I finished it, though. I didn’t want it to be over.” You can feel your heartbeat quickening as you look up to meet his eyes. You have been daydreaming about talking to him since you met, and you can’t believe it’s finally come true.

“I can give you some recommendations, if you’d like.” He speaks with a quiet voice.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.” You get up from your seat and he walks you to the shelves to show you some books.

“This is one of my favorites,” he says, grabbing a book from the shelf.

“I’ll be sure to check it out. Thanks.”

“No problem,” he smiles. “I’m Remus, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you smile back.

You begin walking over to the register to purchase your book. Once you turn the corner from the book stacks, you see Lily silently cheering for you.

“Oh he’s totally into you too.”

“Oh hush. Just ring me up.” You blush as you hand her the book.

—

Making the weekly trip here quickly becomes your favorite day of the week. Over the last few weeks, you’ve grown closer to Remus. He’s given you countless book recommendations and have given him some in return. You hangout with him in the shop during his shift, often earning teasing glances from Lily. You’ve learned a little bit about him from small talk through your hangouts. He’s a year older than you and he's from Wales. Like you, he liked the small atmosphere of the town and was drawn to it, and his two best friends moved here also. He just recently moved to town at the end of fall and the first thing he did was get a job here at the bookstore.

This week's visit to the bookstore happens to fall on Valentine’s day and you were hoping that Remus would be working, not knowing if he was dating anyone. Remus has set up Lily on a date with one of his friends, so you knew that she wouldn’t be working tonight.

You open the door to shop, the bell ringing as you enter. You see Remus at his usual spot behind the counter, which sends a bit of relief through you knowing that he wasn’t out with anyone else. Upon hearing the bell, he looks up and makes eye contact with you, giving you his usual smile before continuing to help out the customer.

You make your way to your usual seat and move forward with the weekly routine that’s been in place since Remus started working here: come to the store, read a book Remus recommended, talk with him about it, buy another one of his recommendations, give him a recommendation if he needs one, and repeat the next week.

You sit like this for about an hour, content with your book and your coffee. You hear the bell ring and glance up to look at the counter and notice that Remus isn’t there and you feel a pit grow in your stomach. Maybe he is going out tonight, you think to yourself while sighing, and you go back to reading your book. You feel silly for letting yourself get so attached to a boy you just met.

The bell at the store rings once more a few minutes later and although you can’t see the door from your seat, you see Remus getting back to the counter holding a bouquet of flowers. Every bit of hope that you had that he may be single leaves your body in that very moment and you feel just about ready to cry.

You decide it’s time for you to leave, not wanting to see whoever those flowers are for. You grab your book and just as you turn around, you see Remus walking towards you with a book in hand. You try to act normal, but are sure that somehow, there’s a mix of sadness, panic, and joy on your face all at once.

“Hi Y/N, where’re you going?” he says with a small frown.

“ I was just gonna head home and finish reading this there,” you reply softly while waving the book up to show him which one it is, trying not to show your disappointment. “I actually really like it,” you continue, “I’ll probably end up finishing it tonight.”

“I’m glad you like it, it’s one of my favorites. Here’s another one I think you’d like,” he says while handing you the book.”

“Thanks,” you smile. “Can you ring me up for it on my way out?”

“I already bought it, consider it a Valentine’s day treat,” he says, causing you to blush. “So, you don’t have any plans tonight?” You feel your breath hitch in your throat, hoping this is leading where you’ve always dreamed it will.

“I don’t,” you say intrigued, tilting your head slightly.

“What do you think about coming over to my place? I can cook dinner and you can finish reading that book, maybe we can watch a movie, or listen to music,” he rambles on nervously. “I don’t really care what we do. Completely up to you.” He adds on, smiling anxiously as he awaits your answer.

You are smiling giddily and probably look a little crazy, but you can’t help yourself. This moment doesn’t feel real. Your wishes are finally coming true.

“I’d love that,” you reply as quickly as your voice can after processing what just happened. “But who’re those flowers on the counter for?” you question.

“Oh, I forgot,” he says while running back to the counter. He grabs them and walks back over to you, carrying the bouquet of deep red roses scattered with baby’s breath flowers in between. “These are for you. I didn’t want to come right up with these and scare you off, or in case you were dating anyone or said no. Although with the weekly visits and the way you always stare at me, I didn’t really think you had one anyways.”

“I don’t stare!” you yell before putting your face into your hands, mortified. Because you spent a lot of time staring at him. Remus pulls your hands down and tilts your head up by your chin to meet his eyes as if to say Yes, you do. “I don’t stare,” you insist.

“Right, whatever you say,” he mocks. “Are you ready to go? I took the rest of the night off.”

“You took the night off? And what if I said no,” you tease while gathering your things.

“I had a hunch you’d say yes,” he replies. “And Lily told me you would.”

“You asked Lily?” you almost yell, causing him to laugh.

“Of course I did. I wasn’t really looking to get rejected.”

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me. But yeah, I’m ready to go.” He grabs your bag and swings it over his shoulder. He opens the door for you and the pair of you leave the store. Once outside, he begins leading you in the direction of his home.

“How far do you live?” you ask.

“I have a small house on the outskirts of the town. About a twenty minute walk if you don’t mind walking.”

“Yeah that's perfect.” The two of you begin the walk to his house. Casual chit chat fills the air as the two of you get to know more about each other, getting closer together as the walk progresses. You point out your apartment building to him when you pass it.

“I almost moved in there,” he says to you.

“Why didn’t you?”

“You’ll see when we get to mine.”

“Well what’s that supposed to mean? I like my place,” you tease as you continue walking, following Remus wherever he goes.

“Oh I’m sure your place is great. And I’d love to see it one day. But my place is amazing. You’ll see.” He has a smile etched onto his face and is walking joyously towards his house.

The rest of the walk is filled with comfortable silence. As you walk further and further from the center of town, you wonder where Remus is taking you. Although you’ve lived in this town for what feels like forever now, you haven’t ventured this far into the outskirts.

Finally, Remus starts slowing down. The two of you make it to a little cul de sac that only people who live here would go down. There are three houses, each with a long driveway and trees scattered around for separation and privacy. He leads you to the house to the right and begins walking down the driveway with you. Just as he thought, your jaw quite literally drops when you see his house. It's quaint and perfect. The walls are green and there's some stone, brick, and wood throughout for contrast. Vines line the walls and there's a beautiful front porch that looks like it wraps around to the back.

“Holy shit, Remus. How on earth did you find this place? This house is gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. “I built it.”

“You what?!”

“My friends and I wanted to live near each other. We were looking for an area to move into and I stumbled on this place. We bought the land and built the houses. That house across the way is my mate James’ and the one in the center belongs to Sirius.”

“Remus you’re amazing. This house is amazing,” you gush at him.

“You haven’t even seen the inside yet. C’mon.” He grabs your hand and leads you inside the house. You didn’t think anything could top the outside of the house, but Remus Lupin was full of surprises. There was a huge bookshelf that made your own collection look tiny. The fireplace was extravagant and has pictures lined up on the mantle. Much like your house, his was filled with trinkets and frames lining the walls. One frame shows him and two other boys that you assume to be James and Sirius. There are more group pictures lining his walls. You wonder which one he set Lily up with.

He has a record player off to the side and his collection is just as big as yours. “Pick a record,” he says as he guides you over to the table that houses his record player. You flip through his collection – of course he has it alphabetized by the artist's last name. So do you – and stop when you get to David Bowie.

“I love Bowie!” you shout as you pull out The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, your favorite album by him. “Here.” You hand him to record and he smiles and laughs as he puts it on.

“That’s my favorite album too.” Five Years starts playing and he walks around to finish giving you a tour. The kitchen is just as nice. The cabinets are green, slightly lighter than the outside of the house, and there are wood and gold accents along with wood floors. There’s a small table in the kitchen and a large island, perfect for cooking. Next is the main bathroom, which is also green, and has numerous plants inside. He walks you upstairs and briefly shows you his bedroom, green again and filled with many books, and the three extra bedrooms, one of which is his office.

Lastly, he leads you back downstairs and out the back door to the backyard. You were right, the porch does wrap around the back. Lights and plants line the porch. He turns on the outside lights to reveal a fenced in backyard engulfed by trees. Two bigger trees are inside the fence and in between a hammock is hanging. There’s a fire pit with chairs surrounding it and lights strung all around the backyard. Amazingly, there is an inground pool that’s covered up by a tarp.

“Remus, this is amazing. I can’t believe you built this.”

“Thanks. You haven’t even seen the best part.”

“You keep saying that and it keeps getting better. I don’t know how you can top this backyard.”

“Look up.”

“What?”

“Look up,” he says again.

You listen to him and look up at the night sky and you’re met with the most beautiful view of the sky you’ve ever seen. The stars and the moon are shining so brightly, It’s like the sky was created by Remus himself and you were seeing it for the first time.

“How the hell does the sky look like this,” you whisper in awe.

“This was the selling point for me. I sit on the hammock and just stare at the sky for hours.”

“This really is amazing. You’re lucky to have this place, you put a lot of effort into it.”

“Thanks, I really did. It took a lot of building and planning, but I’m so happy with where it is right now. Anyways, you must be hungry, let me start cooking. How does chicken sound?”

“Sounds great,” you reply. He takes your hand and leads you back inside to the kitchen. He pulls out the chair at the kitchen table and motions for you to sit. You mutter a small thanks as he lights a few candles on the table and begins grabbing all the ingredients. Before he begins prepping, he puts on an apron that says, “Kiss The Cook,” causing you to laugh.

“Hey. James bought this for me and it’s the only one that I have,” he says defensively, busting out into a laugh.

Conversation falls naturally upon the two of you and you learn more about Remus as he cooks for you. His favorite color is, shockingly, green. He also loves to cook. He and his friends do weekly dinners and this usually falls upon Remus to cook but he doesn’t mind. Sirius and James bring the drinks and desserts and Remus says they always have a good time.

“You know the bakery down the street from the bookstore? They usually get the desserts from there,” he says as he plates up the food.

“You’re lying. I work there! What do they look like, I bet I’ve seen them.”

Remus smiles as he goes to the living room and comes back with a photo of the three of them.

“I do recognize them! They come in all the time. I always slip them something extra.”

“You’re the one that’s been doing that? They’re gonna freak when I tell them the girl I’ve been swooning over is the same one that’s fueling their sweet tooth.”

“You’ve been swooning over me?” you joke at him. He just blushes in response and looks at his chicken. You smile at your mutual ability to stun each other and start cutting up your chicken.

“I think this is the best chicken that I’ve ever eaten,” you say to him after taking a bite.

“You’re just trying to make me blush.”

“Well yeah. But I’m serious, this chicken is really good. Next time, I’ll cook for you.” “I’d like that,” he says with a smile.

Once the two of you finish your meal, you make your way to the living room where Remus puts on a new record. You settle onto the couch as he starts a fire. He sits next to you, grabs a blanket, and drapes it across the two of you as he hands you your book, filling you with confusion.

“Finish the book,” he says.

“It’s fine. I’ll finish it when I get home.”

“No, trust me. I don’t mind. Sitting here with you is all I need.” You blush in response to his words and you open the book. You have less than 30 pages left, so you shouldn’t be busy for too long. His arm wraps around you and you cuddle closer into him as you hold open the book. Sometime later, you close the book and look up to see him staring at you.

“How was it?” he asks.

“Really good. I’m glad you recommended it to me.”

“Me too.”

The two of you stare into eachothers eyes for what feels like an eternity, neither one of you willing to make the first move. With a wave of confidence, you lean in to break the distance between your lips and his. His lips are soft and you move slowly at first. After a few seconds, you tear away from him and go to look him in the eyes once more. Before you can do this, he pulls you in by your cheeks and locks his lips to yours, this time with more passion. He pushes you back without breaking contact until your back is on the couch and he lies on top of you. He pulls away for a second, with nothing but Bowie and the south of your breath filling the room.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” you say breathlessly.

“Trust me, I do,” he says before going back in. Your hands comb through his hair as his roam your body. Every touch of his feels electric and you can’t imagine a life without his touch. The sound of the doorbell ringing surprises both of you, Remus so much that he falls off of the couch, causing you to laugh. He shoots you a glare before going to answer the door.

“Moony, how’d the date go!” you hear a man shout as he barges in the house. You hear two pairs of footsteps, three if you count Remus’s, walk into the living room and you lock eyes with James and Sirius as they sit on the opposing couch.

“Oh shit! You’re the bakery girl! Moony, why didn’t you tell us you were in love with the bakery girl!” the long haired man says to his friend before turning to you. “He’s been pining over you for weeks. Can’t believe he finally got the guts to ask you out.”

“How was I supposed to know she was the bakery girl!” he shouts in defense. “Now we were kind of in the middle of something. Can you go?” You laugh at the banter between the boys.

“Ouch, kicking us out? I’ll remember this,” the boy with glasses says. “We accept sweet treats as apologies.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you come in,” you say as Remus practically kicks them out.

He huffs as he closes the door and starts walking over towards you. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes. “They’re so embarrassing and will probably be the death of me.”

“It's okay,” you chuckle. “They seem funny. I can’t wait till the next time they come in.”

“Oh I’m sure they can’t wait either.”

“I had a really great time tonight. I hate to end it early, but I should be getting home.”

“Let me drive you,” he says. He grabs your jacket as well as his. He swings your bag over his shoulder once more and leads you outside to his car.

“If it’s so cold outside, why didn’t you drive to work?” you question.

“We wouldn’t have had as much time to talk,” he responds. “Wouldn’t you rather a 20 minute walk filled with conversation than a 2 minute car ride? Plus the walk up to the house is a better reveal than a drive up.”

“Can’t argue with that,” you say as you buckle in.

The drive to your house is quite short and you’re sad to have to say bye to Remus. He parks outside the front and walks you up to your apartment door.

“I had fun tonight. Even if it got interrupted by your friends,” you smile at him.

“I’m glad they didn’t scare you off.”

He stares into your eyes before leaning in to give you one final kiss for the night. He watches you enter your apartment before going back to his car and driving away.

Once inside, you finally have a minute to collect your thoughts and process what just happened over the last few hours. You shoot Lily a text saying you hope she had fun on her date and also cursed her out for not telling you about Remus’s plan to ask you out. You put the flowers he bought you in a vase on your kitchen table and begin getting ready for bed.

Once your night routine is done, the last thing you do before bed is read. You grab the book he gave you out of your bag and you flip to the first page. You’re shocked to see there’s a note on the inside of the front cover from Remus.

Y/N,

Hopefully you said yes to the date or else this is going to be a really awkward read. You caught my eye the moment I saw you at the bookstore. Yes I saw you staring at me in the aisles on my first shift. You were not slick. And I saw you staring all the other times. And all the times you and Lily talked. Sound really travels in there. You never saw me staring at you, though. Getting to know you the last few weeks has been the best few weeks I’ve had in a while. Even when the days were tough, the thought of seeing you at the store got me out of bed. I really hope you said yes to the date because I would not want you to read this otherwise.

Anyways, this is my favorite book of all time and I wanted to share it with you. I hope you like it. I’d love to talk about it when you’re done. Give me a call, or come visit me. You know where I work.

Remus

You smile like a little girl as you read the letter, happy the feeling has been mutual the entire time. You save his number into your phone and send him a text thanking him for tonight and for the book. You go to the first chapter and your stomach drops when you see the book is annotated. You flip through the pages and see that almost every page has a note on it. Small things like underlined quotes, or something in the margin like “this made me think of you.” Your heart flutters knowing that Remus did this for you. You sit down in your bed, grab a pen, and begin reading, responding to his annotations along the way.

—

The sun’s rays peer into your room just as you finish the last page and you realize that you stayed up all night reading and annotating the book. You get up from bed, grab your jacket, and run out the door towards Remus’s house.

You make it to Remus’s house much quicker than you imagined. Out of breath, you ring his doorbell and wait for him to open the door. It takes him a good thirty seconds before he makes it to the door. His hair is messy and he’s wearing grey sweatpants and a green sweater that looks like it was thrown on haphazardly before walking to the door. Sleep fills his eyes as he rubs them in the morning light, the sun hitting him just right and giving his skin a beautiful golden color as well as lighting up his eyes. At first, he looks confused as to who could possibly be ringing his doorbell at the crack of dawn. But once he realizes it’s you, a smile grows on his face.

“I finished the book. I really liked it,” you say before Remus could even get a word out, still panting from the walk over.

“You what?”

“I finished the book.”

“How on earth did you manage to do that?” he questions. His voice beautifully raspy from the night.

“I saw the annotations and I stayed up all night reading. Here,” you say as you hand him the book. “I hope you don’t mind. I wrote some notes back for you.”

He smiles back at you and flips through the pages to look at the annotations you left for him. “Have you slept at all?”

“Nope,” you say while popping the P. “I wanted to finish it as soon as I could and get it back to you.

He stares at you in response, his smile growing larger by the second. “Come in,” he says as he moves to the side of the doorway to give you space to walk in.

You walk in his house and he leads you to his bedroom.

“Come on,” he says as he pulls open the covers. “Let’s get some sleep.”

You join him in the bed as he pulls you close to him. The heat radiates off of his body and warms you up as you cuddle into his body. Sleep falls upon you quickly and the last thing on your mind before you fall asleep is Remus Lupin.

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mrkis · 2 years

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nct dream reaction :: you flash them

REQUESTED? 〚YES✗〛/ 〚NO〛 ⟶ nct dream reaction to you flashing them during arguments ;)

AN: it was kinda tricky writing every reaction as arguments so i changed a few of them!!! sorry abt that nonie, hopefully you still like them.

MARK

you tell him he works to hard, he says he doesn't work hard enough. you tell him he needs a break, he says he needs to finish practicing first. you tell him he needs to relax, he says there's no time. as much as you love your deeply dedicated boyfriend, he was too stupid to listen to anything else when it came to his work. you can see the bags under his eyes, how slightly sluggish his movements are when he's coming to the end of dancing and the way his eyes flutter shut for a brief moment before snapping open again, resuming in what he was doing. he was exhausted, and you wasn't going to watch him torture himself any longer. you tap his shoulder to get his attention and the second he turns around to give you another excuse on why he should be working, you flip your shirt up, showing him your bare chest before dropping it back down, not even bothering to see if anyone else was looking.

"i..." mark stutters, throat bobbing as he gulps. he staggers over his feet as he takes a step towards you, his hands coming out to rest on your hips, fingers gripping tightly. "i uh, i think i can take that break now"

RENJUN

renjun is violently shaking his head, shoving his fingers into his ears as he refuses to listen to you, ignoring you like a child. you've been arguing for the past five minutes about your best friend who wanted to meet up with you and renjun but renjun declines, claiming how she is horrible and he doesn't like her. you're aware of the hateful relationship they have and you were happy when you found out that she was willing to make amends with renjun for your sake, but he wasn't having it, refusing to give her the time of day and you the attention as he shuts you out, staring blankly at the wall in front. you groan in annoyance, almost clawing out your hair until you think of a way to regain his attention, stepping out in front of him and unclipping your bra beneath your shirt before lifting it up to flash him your breasts. his eyes zone in on you almost instantly, hands dropping from his ears to rest in his lap, taking in your appearance.

"okay, lets make a deal" renjun starts and you listen carefully. "i'll go make amends with your dumbass of a friend if you promise me that i can cum on your tits later"

"deal"

JENO

in your defence, you didn't really realise how short your skirt actually was. it's pretty and you felt even prettier in it so you didn't care about the length in that moment in time. you continue on with your day as normal, running errands and finishing chores that had to be done, even meeting up with your girl friends for a coffee before meeting up with jeno and the members at the dorms. the boys greet you as usual, some giving you a nod of acknowledgement while others spoke. jeno meets you halfway across the room for a hug and a kiss to your cheek, a hand coming down to sneakily pinch your butt which makes you gasp in surprise and drop your purse. you scold at him, punching his shoulder jokingly as you turn to pick up your purse but you yelp in surprise when you feel jeno's hands urgently reach out to tug the bottom of your skirt a little too forcefully, causing you tumble backwards into his chest as his arms circle around your waist to catch you.

"your skirt" jeno mumbles in your ear before you can question him on what the hell was that about and you turn your head, looking at him confused. "you just... you're wearing lace. the black ones. did you do this on purpose, baby?"

HAECHAN

the argument between you both escalated a little too quickly and over something so stupid and small. haechan always liked it when you wore his clothes and obviously, you thought nothing of it when you slipped on his dark red and yellow striped sweater to start your day. but the minute haechan into the room to see you in that specific sweater, hell broke loose. he was pouting, whining like a baby at the thought of you potentially ruining his precious sweater that he bought not long ago, stating how he was going to take it away with him on his trip with the members in a few days.

"fine!" you huff, already tired of his whining as you yank the material over your head and lob it in his direction, standing bare chested in the bedroom. haechan's mouth drops in shock, dropping the sweater to the floor without a care in the world as he stares at your breasts.

JAEMIN

the embarrassment that rushed through your body when you tried to take off your hoodie only for it to get caught around your head with your shirt was unbelievable. you wanted the ground to open up and immediately swallow you whole, especially when you can hear jaemin chuckling from somewhere in front of you at the sight of your boobs on display. you internally curse at yourself for not wearing a bra, but you were in the comfort of your own home, there wasn't any need. you try to unstuck yourself but it was no use, your body slumping in defeat. jaemin's hands reach out to help, pulling the shirt down to cover your modesty before pulling the hoodie over your head to see the pout on your face.

"it's nothing i haven't seen before..." he whispers, trying to reassure you as his thumb grazes over the hardened nub that pokes through the shirt and you shoot him a glare. he grins, "you know that i prefer you naked"

CHENLE

you rub your temples frustratingly at the tone of chenle's voice, gaining a headache from the pathetic argument you both are having. he's fired up over a recent basketball game that he lost to sungchan and even though you tried to console him, he only got louder and more whiney, blaming sungchan's height on his victory and you made the silly choice to say maybe sungchan's win was based on luck, which made chenle almost combust. so you did the one thing that would get chenle to quiet down and you lift your shirt with a deadpanned expression, watching as his face slowly crumbles and his words die down.

"hey!" chenle screeches as you flash him your bare chest, pointing at you incredulously and you shrug your shoulders, dropping your shirt back down with a pleased smile. chenle scoffs, shaking his heads as his fingers rush down to the drawstring on his sweatpants. "two can play at that game!!"

JISUNG

"don't you think that dress is sorta... revealing?" jisung tries to tell you, tugging the collar of his shirt awkwardly as he stares at the deep plunge v neck dress you're wearing, chewing his bottom lip worryingly at the thought of your boobs slipping out from the dress while you're in public. you pay him no mind, knowing how secure this dress is and how much faith you have in it as you shove your essentials into a purse, getting ready to leave. you both make your way to the front door and you slip your feet into your heels, bending over to fix the straps before you feel the material of the dress open a little wider than usual, your boob freely falling out and flashing jisung who internally panics as you fling up straight.

"i told you" jisung mutters, cheeks flushing a faint red as he helps shove your boob back into your dress, even going as far as placing his palms over your boobs so they don't fall out again. he blinks at you, offering a wary smile. "maybe a jacket would help?"

©mrkis

#nct dream smut #nct smut #nct dream reaction #nct dream reaction smut #mark lee smut #renjun smut #jeno smut #haechan smut #jaemin smut #chenle smut #jisung smut

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mangoshorthand · 9 months

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Twelve Feet Away from the Mistletoe - Part 2 | Five Hargreeves / F Reader (Angst/Fluff) Words 3k

Requested by @fiannee. I managed to stop myself writing smut through the simple expedient of fading to black. #personalgrowth

<< Read Part 1

On Christmas Eve, he opened the front door looking a million dollars. He stood straight and authoritative in what must have been his best suit. Its clean lines skimmed and accentuated the breadth of his shoulders, his trim waist, and the shape of his legs.

You stared, dumbstruck for a moment, snow settling on the shoulders of your coat.

Five looked like he’d been dressed by Gianni Versace himself, and you were standing in out in the snow wearing a lumpy sweater featuring candy cane striped arms and a horrified looking gingerbread man with a huge bite out of his head.

“Nice sweater,” he said, apparently too distracted by the small glimpse not obscured by your coat to say anything else.

“Thanks,” you said, embarrassed.

You looked up at him for a second, there on the Academy steps, laden down by a large bag of Christmas gifts in your hand and a bag of clothes on your back, the cold air at your back rushing into the warmth of the entrance hall. You were suddenly unsure how to proceed. He was smiling welcome, but there was still a moment of uncertainty.

You’d had no contact with him since that night. How to greet him after what happened? A handshake? A hug? Surely a kiss was too -

But Five stepped back from the door and gestured you through it.

“Come in,” he said, “we’re about to order Chinese food.”

“Sounds good,” you said, smiling awkwardly as you maneuvered your lumpy bag of gifts through the door.

You stood in front of him for a second or so, waiting for the hug or handshake or whatever, but it never came. Instead, he closed the door behind you and went to lead you into the living room where signs of movement made it clear that his siblings sat.

You hesitated, and it made him notice your bag of gifts for the first time. He looked curiously down into the bag.

“Are these for-?”

“Just some gifts for you all,” you said, waving a hand to disclaim their importance. “I was just going to go dump them in the room I’m sleeping in and then-”

“Sure, sure,” he nodded towards the stairs, “you go do that. It’s the same one as last time,” he finished, answering your unarticulated question.

***

Alone in the spare room you’d been sleeping in last time you stayed, you looked in the full length mirror.

With Five looking like he’d fallen from heaven, the sweater suddenly felt like a bad move. Why did you always have to hide behind a veneer of childish humor? Why, when you came here hoping to be swept off your feet, did you dress like an idiot?

Ever since that kiss, he’d polluted your thoughts. Memories of the sensation of his lips on yours and the occasional touch of his tongue had always been followed by whether you should try to see him before christmas, whether to buy him a gift and exactly how you should pitch that gift. You’d agonized over it until you bought everyone a gift just so that buying him one wouldn’t stand out too much.

All in all, the last couple of weeks had been a mess of doubt and nerves.

Mentally shaking yourself, you pushed these thoughts aside. You kissed under the mistletoe once: it was hardly grounds to expect romance. Maybe his invitation to come for Christmas had been friendly, and the kiss was just a bit of fun in the moment. There was mild mutual attraction and there was mistletoe, but outside that little bit of holiday mischief, you were just his brother’s friend.

Fuck it. You liked this sweater and you weren’t going to change it for a man. And you’d be damned if you let yourself get hung up on a man this fickle. Squaring your shoulders, you left the bedroom.

***

“I thought I heard your voice.”

Viktor’s smile from one of the armchairs was one of welcome, but surprise. Luther, Sloane, Klaus, Diego and Lila were watching you too, looking welcoming themselves but oddly expectant somehow. Five was nowhere to be found.

You felt the enquiry in their looks.

“Uh - am I early? Five said Christmas Eve but he didn’t say when.”

“Huh?” Diego said, uncomprehending. Their eyes on you felt uncomfortable.

“H-he told me to come over on Christmas Eve and stay a couple of nights. Did he not tell-?”

“Wait:” Lila said, loudly, “you’re telling us Five invited you for Christmas?”

“Yes,” you all but whispered, heat rising to your cheeks, “did he not tell you?”

“First I’m hearing of it.” Lila said, amused, “The sly old git.”

Putting two and two together, Viktor stepped in to cover your feeling of intruding on them.

“Sorry, I forgot to mention it to you guys. We invited her to come before she moved into her new place.”

“No problem here,” Klaus said, shrugging and throwing his sequined ankle boots up onto the table, “nice to have a different face to look at.”

After the other inhabitants of the room made sounds of agreement, or stated their welcome, you took a place beside Viktor.

When a bottle of champagne had been popped and poured by Sloane and quiet chat reestablished, Viktor leaned towards you.

“So are you and he-?”

“No.” you said, hurriedly, as a wiggle of Viktor’s eyebrows suggested what you and Five might be up to, “He didn’t really tell you he invited me, did he?”

“No,” he sniggered, But seriously - what’s going on? When did he ask?”

“My last night here,” you began, uncertainly, “you were asleep on the couch and -” you cast around for how to explain it, and then promptly chickened out, “- he asked me then.”

Viktor looked as if he knew this was far from the full story, but made no further comment.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you. I should have done.”

You shook your head to indicate that his apology was unnecessary, but were too preoccupied with one question to do more.

“Where did Five go, anyway?”

“Beats me.” Viktor shrugged. “We were about to order dinner but he disappeared.”

Disappeared?” you repeated, surprised into speaking more loudly than you intended.

This attracted the attention of Klaus, who watched you with interest from over his champagne glass.

Don’t get hung up on him. Don’t.

“Yeah,” Viktor said, clearly as confused as you, “he blinked away.”

“And we were just about to order food,” Klaus said, airily, “let’s give him fifteen and if he doesn’t come back, we order without him.”

You gave him an hour. And then you did order without him. And, by the time the meal came, he still wasn’t back. And, another two hours later, the portion of satay and fried rice Viktor had ordered for him was still sitting on the coffee table, completely cold.

You tried not to let it get to you. You tried not to let yourself dwell. You remembered the sensible conclusion you’d come to in your third-floor bedroom but still, a mixture of confusion, hurt and irritation began to fight for the upper hand in your feelings.

Even as you enjoyed the company of his siblings, joined in with their banter and laughed at their jokes, half your mind was engaged battling over their brother.

What had you done to make him leave like this? Why invite you over at all if he clearly didn’t want to spend time with you? Did he take one look at you and regret that kiss? Did you spend days agonizing about whether you should buy him that gift just for him to make other plans as soon as you arrived?

Fuck him. And fuck his mixed signals too.

You looked up at the felt mistletoe above the fireplace. Cheap and fake, just like that kiss apparently.

As the evening wore on, the snow got heavier and heavier outside, until snowflakes were falling in thick, heavy clumps past the windows, melting into slush as they came into contact with damp, dirty sidewalks and tarmac laid with grit.

And Five’s meal was still left uneaten, even when Luther began to campaign hard to get everyone to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol.

“Five would agree with me,” Luther said, earnestly, “he loved it when we were kids.”

“Only because it was the only Christmas video tape we had.” Viktor replied.

“And he was six years old,” Deigo interjected, “you’re the only one who hasn’t matured since then.”

“You guys are grinches,” Luther said, sulkily. And then, face changing to curiosity as soon as the thought occurred: “where the hell is Five, anyway?”

“Search me,” Viktor replied.

“Should we be worried?” you asked, as Luther lost interest and continued to extol the Muppets’ many adaptational virtues.

“Nah,” Klaus said, “I’m more worried for the folks wherever he is.”

“Does he do this often?” you pressed.

“Oh yes. Cinco’s a little...unpredictable. Probably wanted to avoid being sociable. Probably couldn’t face Luther’s whining about this shitty movie.”

Pleading tiredness, you headed to bed before the movie began, Luther cross-legged in front of the TV accompanied by an equally excited Lila. As you bade them all goodnight, Viktor watched you with a look of mild concern.

“See you in the morning,” you said, trying to smile at him and put his mind at ease, but unsure if you were successful given that your brain had been a mush of rage and recriminations for the last four hours at least.

His sympathetic smile back was slightly too knowing for you to be comfortable.

So much for not getting hung up on him.

***

Quite how you woke up in Five’s bed the next morning, you would never know. And, as his warmth shifted beside you ahd he whispered a sleepy: “Merry Christmas,” into your ear, you found that you didn’t much care how it happened, only that it did.

It started with you alone in your room, having changed into your pajamas; still hurt, still angry and even angrier at yourself for being so.

How could you let one kiss do this to you? How could you let this man get under your skin?

Because how could you forget? How could you go back now, knowing the feel of his hair, the feel of his breath feathering across your lips? How could any kiss ever again live up to the one he’d given you so carelessly?

That bastard. That smooth-skinned, perfect-jawed, green-eyed bastard.

Muffled above your head, came a sound you nevertheless recognised: the static whoosh that signaled one of Five’s blinks.

So he’d been up in his room all this time? Perhaps using his powers to avoid you?

No. Fuck that noise.

As if you yourself had blinked there from your bedroom, you found yourself marching up the attic stairs and knocking insistently on his door.

“Yeah?” came his slightly irritated voice from inside.

That tone was like a red rag to a bull already butting against his confines. You thrust the door open and were over the threshold before he could acknowledge you.

“Why did you invite me here?” you demanded.

Clearly, Five’s response to your knock had not meant that it was fine to come in. He stood there in the center of the room, naked from the waist up, a sopping wet shirt falling from his hands onto the floor.

You felt your face heat up like a whoosh from a gas furnace. You didn’t stare, but the second or so you looked gave you enough of a glimpse of a firm stomach, subtly toned abdominals, and dusk-rose nipples erect in the chill of the attic room.

“Sorry,” you said, looking briefly down at your feet to give him a chance to dress himself.

“No problem,” he replied, briskly, though making no move to cover himself.

Eventually you looked back up at his face, careful to avoid your eyes lingering elsewhere.

“Why are you wet?” you asked, as he brushed away a drip of water running down his nose from his drenched, tousled hair.

“I’ve been out,” he said, as if this were obvious, “It’s snowing. It’s heavy sleet really. Almost rain by now.”

“Where?” you pressed, embarrassment quickly replaced by the irritation you’d come here with “And why did you invite me over just to fuck off all night?”

His lips tightened, shifting in apparent discomfort.

“I needed to run an errand.” he said, after a short pause.

“An errand?” you said, skepticism dripping from every syllable, “Come on. Don't bullshit me.”

“I needed to run an errand.” he repeated, simply and deliberately, “Take it or leave it.”

He raised his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest in a way that made the veins and muscle definition of his forearms look borderline pornographic. It was just like this asshole, to look so infuriatingly sexy when you were trying to yell at him.

You let out an angry huff of breath through your nostrils.

“Why did you invite me tonight?” you asked, again, more insistently this time.

“Because I wanted to see you for Christmas!” he said, frustratedly, as if this were obvious, “I wanted to see if you and I were going anywhere!”

“What?” you yelped, wrongfooted and jolted unexpectedly out of anger.

He stepped towards you.

“We kissed. I wanted to see if -” he gestured frustratedly between you, as if to indicate a connection in question, “-And when you turned up tonight, with all those gifts, I had to…”

His face worked, chewing his lips.

“I had to buy you a gift too.” he said, reluctantly.

You blinked, and he continued.

“Ever since that night, I’ve been thinking it over. Whether I should get you a gift and show you I’m serious about us trying something together, but I decided not to in case it scared you off. And then, tonight, when I saw a gift to me in your bag, I…”

He tailed off.

You let out a single breath: half laugh and half sigh. You could feel yourself trembling as you smiled at him.

“Viktor and I don’t usually do gifts,” you said, softly.

He looked confused at this apparent non sequitur, but his eyes crinkled into a smile as you continued, “I only got gifts for him and the others to make it look less weird to get you one. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

A breathy laugh escaped his perfect lips.

“So what have we learned?” he asked, expectantly.

“That we’re both weird and intense?”

“Correct,” he nodded, taking another step forward, and tilting his head insolently. “but it also shows that neither of us scare easy.”

He was effortlessly, devastatingly sexy.

You took a step towards him in turn.

“So we can be as weird and intense as we want to be?”

Your voice came out husky, now no more than a foot away from his perfect, half-naked form.

“Exactly,” he whispered.

And, leaning forward, he closed the door behind you with a decisive click.

Your mouth was on his before he could react. The whole world was his lips, his warm breath and the smell of his damp skin. Your hands sprang to his freezing torso, feeling gooseflesh as well as muscle beneath your fingers.

“You’re so cold,” you breathed, breaking the kiss.

“Then warm me up,” he growled, a wolfish version of his cocky, know-it-all smile curling his lips.

And you would have obliged him: you would have rushed him and ravished him. You would have pulled his hair and pushed him roughly onto his own bed…

Except he got there first. His nose crashed into yours, resuming the kiss roughly. Groaning low in his throat as you responded in kind.

All the restraint you’d sensed in his kiss beneath the mistletoe had clearly been abandoned, because now was all teeth, tongue and roaming hands as he steered you towards the bed.

***

You rolled over, a blissful smile on your face, and came to rest on Five’s shoulder.

“Happy Christmas,” you replied to his whispered greeting.

He leaned in for a kiss, a loving one this time, and then sat up in bed. He leaned over to reach for his abandoned, soaked jacket of the previous evening, rummaging around in it on the floor, inelegantly stretched across the rug, half in and half out of bed.

“What are you-”

“There we go,” he said, locating whatever he’d been searching for. He heaved himself back on the bed, a small black box in hand.

“It’s your Christmas gift,” he said, matter-of-factly, “It’s Christmas morning. That’s traditionally when you open gifts.”

Your eyes were fixed on the box.

“Oh god, it’s not jewelry is it?”

“Yes,” he said, eyebrows contracting.

You interpreted his expression correctly and tried to assuage his worry.

“No - no, I mean, I like jewelry, it’s just that - oh, give it here.”

You took the box from him and opened it. Inside was a delicate, gold mistletoe pendant hanging off a matching chain.

“Fuck,” you said, distractedly.

“So…wrong move?” he said, worriedly.

“No. No. It’s beautiful. It’s gorgeous, Five. It’s just that -” you looked up at him, face the picture of agony, I only got you a bottle of scotch!”

He broke into a broad, relieved smile.

“Which scotch?” he asked, curiously.

“It seems so stupid now," you moaned, mortified, “but I remembered you talking to Klaus about being in Edinburgh in 1988 and drinking -” “Glen Moray 12?” he asked, eyes lighting up.

“I didn’t even get the right year!” you whined, oblivious to the pleasure that would have been obvious to anyone else, “I could only get one bottled in 1987.”

He gave an incredulous, pleased chuckle, smile broadening even more.

“That’s perfect. My god, you’ve been hanging off my every word, haven’t you?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, feeling your face heat up as his smile became slightly smug.

“That’s pretty weird and intense,” he teased.

“No more weird and intense than buying a gold necklace for a girl you kissed once,” you shot back, finally catching his mood and teasing him in turn.

“Touché.” he conceded, and leaned his forehead affectionately against yours, "But is it acceptable now I've kissed you much more than once?"

"Hm," you said, in mock thought, "I'll reserve judgment."

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Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969

NOTE: I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

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