#have some awkward adult shop encounter to start your day

[welcometololaland]

do you like reading about tarlos having an awkward encounter in an adult store? if so, this snippet is for you!

this is from the fic affectionately known as 'Call Me' that i am successfully co-parenting with @rmd-writes (tag, you're it!)

There’s a head of brown hair that’s clearly visible from over a row of very…interesting paraphernalia. Even before the man turns around, Carlos knows who it is. It’s a vibe, an aura, an unfortunate consequence of being extremely attracted to someone who is in precisely the wrong place at precisely the wrong time. Carlos was wrong. Seeing TK Strand in a sex shop might be worse than seeing his parents. “Savannah,” he says, coughing awkwardly. “I've, um, I’ve actually got to go somewhere. Emergency. Don’t worry about the—” “Are you sure?” she asks, far too loudly. “I can show you the options real quick—” “Officer Reyes?” Fuck. Carlos is completely fucked. He feels rooted to the spot, unable to take a breath as his eyes dart over the shelf of unnervingly accurate, plastic, human body parts. Clear green eyes blink back at him, equally as shocked. “Strand,” he replies, his voice sounding far less shaky than it feels. “Hi.” “I’ll leave you to it,” Savannah says, looking between them furtively before scurrying off between the aisles. Carlos kind of wants to throw a dildo at her. “What are you— I probably shouldn’t ask that,” TK stammers, looking adorable with his wide eyes and his unguarded expression. When Carlos’ eyes drop to TK’s hands, he sees he’s holding an ungodly amount of lube and a small silver plug.  Huh. Interesting.

if you haven't played wip weds and you want to, you SHOULD! I tag you!

thanks for the tags @heartstringsduet and @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut!

i'll tag some tarlos people who might have a laugh and then provide me with their own snippets (greedy for them): @bonheur-cafe @decafdino @vineofroses @liminalmemories21 @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @reyesstrand @kiwichaeng @goodways @carlos-in-glasses @carlos-tk @theghostofashton @safeaswrites @kiloskywalker @thebumblecee @nancygillianmvp @sznofthesticks @sunshinestrand @thisbuildinghasfeelings @three-drink-amy @strandnreyes @lightningboltreader @orchidscript @lemonlyman-dotcom @never-blooms @alrightbuckaroo @freneticfloetry @fitzherbertssmolder @whatsintheboxmh

and @kiwiana-writes because they're the best and tag me every week 💜

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: The Instructor chapter 9, Shopping Spree

Chapter 1: Lesson One | Chapter 2: A Rash Decision | Chapter 3: Good Intentions | Chapter 4: Chicken Soup | Chapter 5: Knotted Strings | Chapter 6: Crossed Blades | Chapter 7: Christmas Party | Chapter 8: Lesson Two | Chapter 9: Shopping Spree

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: We Can Be Heroes

Relationship: Marcus Moreno/Original Female Character (Kate)

Chapter summary: Marcus continues to educate Kate about the joys of sex.

Chapter tags: Dom!Marcus is a goddamn tease, (her) masturbation.

“Marcus.”

“Kate.”

There is something a little awkward to meet at the entrance to the cafeteria only a few days after that Saturday. It doesn’t help that Marcus has a little mini-me with him.

His daughter. Kate immediately feels like the pretty little girl knows exactly what this strange woman has been doing with her father. The kid is eyeing her with interest, and Marcus realizes he needs to make introductions.

“It’s Bring Your Kids To Work Day. This is my daughter, Missy.” He puts his hand on Missy’s shoulder. “Querida, this is Kate Shannon, our trainer.”

“You’re the one who knows, like, martial arts, right?” the girl asks, clearly excited yet a little shy. Kate nods.

“I am.”

“Can you teach me?”

“It’s only for employees,” Marcus interjects. “And adults.”

The kid pouts, and Kate struggles to find something to say, having no idea what’s okay for a child this age.

“I know a great kung-fu school if you’re interested. Tell them Kate sent you, and you’ll get to try out for free, okay?” The way the girl’s eyes start to sparkle, Kate knows at least did right by the child, if not by the father. But Marcus doesn’t seem aghast at the suggestion that his daughter take up martial arts.

“Can I, dad?” Missy looks up at Marcus, who smiles at her.

“Sure, we’ll check it out.”

He then directs his warm smile at Kate. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you. Missy?”

“Thank you!” The gratitude, albeit prompted, is sincere and delivered with a huge smile.

“You’re welcome,” Kate nods, then gestures down the hall, ill at ease. “I gotta go. Nice to meet you, Missy. Marcus.”

Bring Your Kids To Work Day. Figures. If any of Kate’s clients bring their kids with them to practice, she’s going on strike.

Thankfully none of them do, and she goes through the rest of her workday without having to deal with anyone younger than 30. Marcus’ smile is stuck on her retina for hours after the encounter, and when she gets on her bike at the end of the day to pedal home, she sees him walking towards his car, his daughter skipping next to him. His laughter carries across the parking lot to Kate.

To her surprise, the idea of Marcus as a father doesn’t turn her off. She still doesn’t want to be involved in his family life, have Sunday dinners with him, meet his kid and parents, but she's excited for their next rendezvous, which will be on the upcoming Saturday. Missy is going to a birthday party and Marcus has planned for him and Kate to go online shopping.

When she woke up the morning after, Marcus was still there. He was already up, coming out of the shower when she blinked her eyes open, a towel slung around his narrow hips. The sight had been so titillating she found herself asking him, almost shyly, if he wanted to have sex, just sex, no power plays. He did. He took charge without being bossy, guided her through the experience with a firm yet caring hand, praised her when she finally let the orgasm wash through her. She asked him to stay for breakfast, insisted that she cooked, and while they were enjoying scrambled eggs and smoothies, he wanted to know if she would see him again.

"Yes!" she had exclaimed, comically eager, and he had smiled across the table at her.

"Then we need to get some stuff. Can I take you sex toy shopping next Saturday?"

She sees an opening here, a chance to explore her sexuality, find out about pleasures she never knew she would be into. She likes Marcus, trusts him, is comfortable with him. Shopping for sex toys is going to be a brand new experience; her shitty vibrator was bought on a whim from Amazon and is constantly in need of new batteries.

Work occupies her mind well enough for the rest of the week and Saturday afternoon finally arrives with Marcus coming by her apartment in the afternoon.

"Hi," he smiles when she opens the door. He's once again irresistibly handsome in ludicrously casual yet stylish clothes. The leather jacket comes off when he steps in, and he pushes his glasses up with his pointer finger before asking if he can kiss her.

"Sure," she allows and Marcus immediately leans in, giving her a soft and brief kiss that leaves behind a tingle on her lips.

"I've thought about kissing you all week," Marcus confesses, looking a little bashful. She can't figure him out. He's dominant in bed but shy yet cheeky outside of it. She has a feeling most of the friends would call him perfect boyfriend material.

"Me too," she admits. It's true: since last Saturday, she's masturbated every morning before getting up, and every night before falling asleep. Their date night was more than a vitamin injection to her sex life: it was an enormous syringe filled with every steroid and upper known to man. Suddenly she couldn't help but think of his kisses, his hands, the way he handled her, took care of her, and she had to lie down and touch herself until her cheeks were flushed and her panties drenched.

It's madness.

She now directs him to the kitchen, where her laptop waits on the table, and offers him a glass of wine.

"Just the one." He sounds rueful. "I've got to pick Missy up in two hours."

Kate nods and opens the bottle and takes out two glasses, gesturing for him to sit down. Marcus, however, remains standing.

"Let's do it on the couch," he tells her in a low voice. The way he says do it makes Kate think of something else entirely, and the tingle spreads from her lips to the rest of her body. She hands him his glass, takes her own, and picks up the laptop.

"Okay, then."

Kate sits down, cross-legged, and sips the wine as Marcus takes control of the laptop and types in the address of an online store. A tasteful website that makes Kate think of soft velvet, exquisite lace, and the scent of vintage leather comes up. Marcus looks at her.

"What do you use when you pleasure yourself, Kate?"

She almost chokes on the wine but manages to swallow somewhat gracefully.

"I... have a vibrator but it's not that good. I mostly just use my hands."

"Have you ever used a dildo?"

Kate shakes her head. She never needed one and now she feels she has to explain herself.

"Look, I'm not a nun," she points out, a sharp edge to her voice. "I've had sex. I like sex. I just don't always find the time to date, and men don't always accept that I have a physically active lifestyle. Back when I still competed, it was impossible to maintain a relationship."

She shrugs. "I use martial arts to work out my frustrations. I've never thought about getting toys, I don't have the time."

"I'm sorry if I offended you," Marcus says softly. "I didn't mean to imply anything. I just want to know what you like to use on yourself."

"Not much," she concludes and raises the glass to her lips, taking three greedy gulps.

"What do you want to use?"

She has no idea. "What do you suggest?"

There it is again, that dark intensity in his eyes. His fingers land on the laptop's touchpad and he moves the cursor around, clicks, and shows Kate the screen. She looks at it sceptically.

"Handcuffs?"

"Or ropes. I'd like to tie your hands together above your head and then..." He clicks around a little more. A stick with a feather at the end of it shows up. Marcus studies her reaction closely. "I'd tease your beautiful tits and your pretty little pussy with this until you're squirming."

A shiver runs down Kate's spine and her gaze goes from the laptop screen to Marcus's face, and back again.

"Yeah?" she breathes. Marcus smiles, displaying a predatory glint of teeth as he takes a sip of wine.

"Yeah."

He reaches for her, hand ghosting around the soft swell of her breast, almost touching but still not. The nipple puckers against the cup of her bra, and Kate finds herself wanting to thrust out her chest so that Marcus can grab her, fondle her, fucking touch her already.

"Like this," he murmurs, finishing up with a light brush over the nipple before sitting back with the laptop. "I think we'll add that to cart."

"Definitely," Kate agrees, a little weakly. Marcus shoots her a smile that's all boyishness and flirt, not seductive and teasing like only a moment earlier.

"What about the restraints?" he asks casually. Kate tilts her head, catching on to his little game.

"I don't have bedposts. How would you go about it?"

He reaches for her glass and puts it down on the side table, then takes her hands, raising both to his mouth. He kisses the inside of one wrist, then the other. The brief touch of his lips on her skin feels like a punch to the gut and Kate realizes that she's holding her breath. Her quick inhale becomes a small gasp when Marcus suddenly takes a hard grip of both her wrists and twists her arms behind her back. Her eyes fall shut when he leans in to nuzzle her neck.

"Your heart is beating so fast," he whispers before tracing his tongue down her jugular. "Is that because of me?"

"It is," she confirms in a breathless moan. "Marcus..."

"Hush." He nibbles on her earlobe, his breath warm in her ear when he continues: "You may not have bedposts but I can still tie your hands together behind your back, like this, or above your head, or I can cuff your hands and feet to bars and spread you open, and then tease you until you're weeping for me to fuck your warm, wet pussy..."

Kate’s head is swimming and she forces herself to take a deep breath in order to steady herself. It’s almost embarrassing how easily affected she is by his deep, seductive voice. When she opens her eyes, Marcus’s face is right in front of hers, watching her intently.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he breathes, and Kate nods.

“I’d like that.”

He smiles then, almost cheerfully, as he releases her wrists.

“Good, we’ll got restraints as well!”

Marcus redirects his attention to the laptop and sips the wine. Heat is throbbing hard and fast through Kate’s body as she shifts uncomfortably, her longing gaze resting heavily on Marcus’s sharp profile. A small smile is playing in the corner of his mouth, letting her know that he’s aware of her hunger. He is, however, making himself busy clicking around the site, the cursor repeatedly going over the Add to cart button.

“We’re also buying a Magic wand,” he rules, turning the laptop so that she can see. The vibator on the screen looks like a microphone and seems huge. A Magic wand is, however, something Kate has heard of, and she's not hard-pressed to try one. She wants to hear what plans he has for it, though.

“What’s it for?”

Marcus tilts his head, eyes darkening again as he changes from sweet and practical to smouldering.

“I’d use it on your clit until you’ve cum so many times that you can’t take it anymore, Kate. How does that sound?”

“That… sounds rough.”

“I think you can take it. Can’t you? For me?”

His hand is now playing along the waistline of her pants. Kate feels a strong surge of want deep in her belly, a heavy damp in her panties. Her mouth is dry as she tries to find her voice.

“Show me, Marcus. Please.”

“Such a sweet, desperate thing, asking so nicely…”

Marcus puts the laptop to the side and pulls Kate into him, his large hand cupping her between the legs, finger digging into the hard denim.

"Please," Kate begs again, chasing his lips for a kiss but Marcus denies her the pleasure with a sharp slap to the side of her ass.

"You know what else we need? A paddle."

Kate blinks in disbelief as Marcus turns back to the laptop. "A paddle?"

"I think you can take a lot more than my hand, Kate."

He shows her the screen and with a little frown between her eyebrows, she inspects the leather paddle on display. The memory of the exhilaration she felt after the spanking Marcus gave her a week ago makes her shiver in anticipation. The raised hairs on her arms don't pass by unnoticed.

"You're blushing, Kate." His voice is warm and a little teasing. Kate tears her gaze from the screen and meets his.

"It's the wine."

"You want me to paddle you, don't you? Want me to match your ass to your face before I slide my fingers inside you."

She swallows hard before beating her eyelashes coquettishly. "Get the paddle."

His grin is broad as he dips his head to reward her with a kiss that makes her toes curl.

They add a mask and a dildo - Kate picks an elegantly curved glass one - before Marcus declares that they're done. He clicks on to the shopping cart and pulls his phone from his pocket for his bank details. A little shocked at the total, Kate shakes her head.

"You're not paying for all of that."

"Of course I am, it was my idea," Marcus assures her, but Kate quickly grabs the laptop from him and holds it out of reach.

"No," she insists, "it doesn't feel right. I don't want... gifts from you. It would feel weird."

Marcus nods immediately, seeing her point. "You're right. I'm sorry, I should've thought of that."

"I want us to split, fifty-fifty." She sees that there's a part of him that wants to protest, some old-fashioned gentlemanly notion of not letting her pay, but he agrees. Only when she has made sure he has Venmo does she relinquish the laptop to him so that she can pick up her own phone and send him the money.

"Can I have it all shipped straight to you?" he asks. "It's easier if I don't have to explain mystery boxes to Missy, or try to keep my secretary from opening it."

"Sure."

He smells so good, why does he smell so good? Now that their shopping spree is in the bag, so to speak, Kate begins to feel jittery. She's soaking wet, flushed, and there is still time to do something about it before Marcus has to leave. When he closes the lid of her laptop and puts it to the side, she all but scrambles onto his lap.

"What a state you're in," he tuts at her as she tries to capture his lips in a desperate kiss. "No, sweetheart, that's not how this works."

Lower lip caught between her teeth and heart in her throat, Kate sits back and waits for him to give her an order. Marcus softly caresses a red lock of hair from her forehead and cups her cheek.

"I want you to take your pants off, lie down on the couch, and touch yourself. Can you do that for me?"

The split second of hesitation must show on Kate's face because Marcus immediately lifts his left hand to her other cheek and makes her look him in the eye.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?"

His eyes are chocolatey, warm, deep. Kate tries to swim in their sugary thickness but finds that she'd rather drown.

"I'll try," she whispers, and Marcus rewards her wih a possessive kiss that takes her breath away. When he releases her, it's only to make room for her on the couch. Kate rises, her legs like jelly, and manages to take off her jeans. Only when she kicks off her panties does she realize that she could have put on a little show, slowed it down, maybe danced a little for Marcus, made him squirm. Maybe next time.

A little awkward about being so exposed, she lies down on the couch, both knees bent and pointing towards the ceiling. Marcus places his big palm over one knee and pushes it gently to the side, making her open her legs.

"This leg down," he instructs her, nodding when she slides her foot off the couch and down to the floor, separating the thigh from the other. "Yes, just like that. Now go ahead, touch yourself. Don't mind me. Just think about what you usually think about when you masturbate."

That's easy: all she's thought about lately is him. She closes her eyes, needing nothing but the smell of his cologne is in her nostrils and the warmth of his body so close to her when she reaches between her legs. Already sopping wet and horny, she goes straight for her clit, circling it eagerly with two fingers. The relief of her own touch makes her moan and the heat inside her starts to thicken and rise from the very core of her. It's embarrassing how quickly she reaches a desperate height, her hand working frantically to throw her over the edge, there, right there, just a little further...

"That's enough, baby."

Kate doesn't register the meaning of the words, only the sweet tone of his voice that makes her grab onto the couch with her free hand, her spine starting to arch as she nears her peak - only to be rudely interrupted by Marcus, who grabs her hand and pulls it away from between her legs.

"I said enough." He sounds a little more determined now, yet still patient and warm, like he was telling a child it's time to go home from the park. Kate opens her eyes just as he brings her hand up to his face and starts to suck the slick off her fingers.

"Marcus," she whimpers, "what are you doing?"

He kisses the tip of her pointer finger with a smile. "I have to go."

"What?"

"I gotta pick Missy up." He leans over her and brushes his lips over hers. She can smell and taste herself on him, but her brain is still frantically scrambling to understand what's happening.

"Marcus, I... I have to... I need to..."

"I know you want to cum, baby," he soothes her with a smile that's all concern and care. "I know. I see it. But you're not allowed to. You're not going to touch yourself for the rest of the day, okay?"

Kate blinks, still desperate with need to be fucked by either herself or him, her clit throbbing amid the slick that she can feel all the way her thighs, heart beating like after a particularly hard training session.

"Do you understand me?" Marcus stares down at her, suddenly bossy. Kate finds herself and nods.

"Yes, I understand." Her voice is small, pitiful. "But Marcus..."

"I'll call you tonight. No touching until then."

He rises from the couch and she sees from the front of his jeans that he's not unaffected. It gives her some comfort.

"I'll show myself out. Have a good afternoon, Kate."

Cheeks burning, Kate watches him leave her apartment before she slowly sits up. For a moment she considers going against his command but decides not to: he must have some kind of reward waiting. Isn't that how this works?

She gets up and goes to the bathroom to wash herself before changing into clothes for running. Putting on her killer playlist and earbuds, she leaves her apartment in the hopes of running it off.

When Marcus calls her later that night, she's almost managed to forget about the incident but her skin starts to crawl with anticipation when he asks her to put the phone on speaker, take her clothes off, and finish what she started earlier.

"And I want to hear you, baby," he tells her. "Make sure I hear you."

Kate lets him hear it all.

[lovealexandria]

New Heights

Genre: Smut

Setting: Modern

Late-afternoon sun was one of Trish’s least liked inconveniences. It was just the right height over the treeline and rooftops, but low enough to blast her eyes every time the car turned toward it.

Car rides home were becoming a disliked thing, as well. At the beginning of the semester, it seemed the same as high school. Some people had a drivers license, fewer had them and a car. College was a different story. Sure, not everyone drives, but the reasons why were seemingly more justified.

Trish looked down to avoid the sun after another turn, casting her gaze across her boy clothes. Literally. Being short after her growth spurt had condemned her to the larger end of children’s clothing. People thought she was an advanced high school student already starting her college credits.

“You alright, darling?”

Mom had glanced her way, instantly noticing Trish’s deflated mood.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Trish lied.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Well…”

Trish and Charlie had been open with their mother for their whole lives. She was every bit the children’s book nurturer, seemingly reading your thoughts and being as gentle as a falling leaf. She was also tall, which frustrated Trish further.

If Trish was open about her gender concerns, would she be receptive? How would that change their relationship? She always sided with Dad on major issues, regardless of what she really thought. Keeping the peace seemed to be her methodology.

“I’ve been thinking about clothes.”

Mom thought for a moment. “Need something a bit more grown up?”

How do you know these things?

“Yeah. I’ve worn the same things for a while. Didn’t really see a problem until recently.”

Trish hoped her half-truths would throw off Mom’s telepathy.

“Being exposed to adults every day must be different. We’ll see about going shopping this weekend. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

The rest of the drive was silent. Trish didn’t know a lot about her mom, so conversation was always a tad awkward. She knew the gist of how she and Dad had met and some of the things during their marriage before children. Anything before was a mystery.

Trish distracted herself with the scenery. Moving away from the center of town was obvious by the state of buildings and roads. Fewer and fewer repairs and rebuilds had happened. Gentrification was starting to get rampant. Pockets of “higher class” living sprung up in the middle of shambles of survival.

The war had taken its toll on the city, and it was far from healed.

Eventually, Mom pulled up to their apartments. The complex was only three years old, one of the first signs of property development not affordable to the general public. A tumultuous market, its value depreciated rather quickly after other complexes sprung up with higher standards of construction.

It was set onto a hillside. The parking arrangement circled the complex, but wasn’t wide enough to have parking and two-way driving. With parking on the left, drivers had to circle around the one-way lot entirely to search for spots. Since these places happen to attract the bits of populations with cars, this was annoyingly difficult at times.

The front of the lot was the lowest point. Those four buildings had a single unit at the “ground” level. They were as tall as all the others, having four units per floor at the two additional stories, the middle of which was ground level for everyone else.

Trish’s family lived on this “second level” of the very first building.

Once up the stairs, Trish averted looking at the fitness room. It sat directly across from the stairwell, overlooking the pool and the porches of twelve different apartments. Not to mention the walkways crossing the center of the complex. It had been two days since her encounter. The embarrassment still sent a stir in her veins. She wasn’t sure if the heat from the memories was shame or arousal.

She scurried away to their front door. Mom approached with a key; Trish attempted to look aloof at the street.

The door swung open and Trish made a beeline to her room.

Run from the gay thoughts!

“We’ll go get Charlie in about an hour!” Mom called after her.

Once in the solitude of her room, Trish deposited her backpack onto the bed with a hefty sigh. It bounced around the pillows and an unfamiliar crunch sounded. She dug under the neatly made pillows and found a piece of paper folded beneath one.

It was a handwritten note:

Hey kid! It’s D, from the other night? Don’t worry about how I got this here. It’s the same way I got your sister’s clothes back where they belong. Helena and I want you to know that you’re super special and want to keep in touch if you ever need anything! I live in C25. Text us anytime!

Their phone numbers were listed at the bottom.

Did she...break in?!?

Trish’s heart started pounding. She read the note over and over again, hoping to find a mistake.

She darted into the hallway, peering towards the front door; it was a very small apartment. The sound of a door closing to her right almost gave her a heart attack. It was just Mom going to her bathroom.

Trish sped towards the front door. The handle was fine, so she opened it to check the latch and keyhole.

No scratches…How did she get in? Did she make a copy of our keys? I didn’t have one that night…

Closing the door in thought, she turned to the living room. Across the space were the glass doors leading to the deck overlooking the parking lot.

……...She didn’t.

Trish approached the door. As soon as she was within a foot of it, she heard a slight whistling noise.

The door was slightly open. They never lock it; who can climb a sheer wall or jump ten feet in the air?

Remembering how athletic and strong D looked, the feat looked too feasible to ignore. The clothes could fit in a small bag. The laundry room was a stone’s throw away at the back of the complex’s office; Trish was staring at it now.

She did. She could’ve gotten the clothes here while they were still warm.

Awe mixed with her fear, though now she was thinking she was overreacting.

Am I? She broke into our house! Through an unlocked door, sure, but still!

She considered never talking to either D or Helena again. Cutting those ties seemed safe. But then, where would she go about what they helped her discover? Who could act as an anchor for her?

Gods, you’re dramatic, Trish chastised herself.

She went back to her room to find her phone. Focusing on entering their numbers distracted from her previous concerns. Each woman had been sent a cursory “Hey” before Trish had a chance to back down. Flashbacks of that night made her blush.

She walked to her closet. After rummaging around for a moment, she retrieved D’s thong from its hiding place.

How could anyone wear this?

Trish remembered how little this covered D’s body. Looking at it now, it was a wonder it did even that.

She closed her door and quickly stripped naked. As she stepped into the thong, the faint noise of the master bathroom’s door squeaking open locked Trish’s spine in place. She stared at her door, stricken with fear.

Mom won’t come in. Would she? She’d knock. Right? What if she did? Why can’t you open the door? Changing! That’s why you’re naked! Then you need to find different clothes.

The agonizingly long minute passed with no other sounds from the hallway. Trish slowly slid the thong up her legs, still staring at the door. Once the crotch reached her own she looked in her closet mirror. The waist straps were much too wide for Trish’s rectangular frame, and her package spilled out over the front. Her heart sank when she let go and it fell to the floor.

Of course it doesn’t fit. Why’d she give this to me?

Trish fished out a change of clothes after she replaced the thong. She checked her phone to see neither D or Helena had replied.

If they were trying to work out at like 1 am, then they might be night owls. Do they live together? Are they dating?

She piddled around her room until it was time to get Charlie. The ride towards campus was slightly less dreary than the trip away. Something about how new and clean it seemed.

Ganymede wasn’t in ruins, and there were plenty of cities much worse off, but it struck Trish as odd that focus shifted from increasing the quality of life to bureaucratic nonsense. Almost like they were pretending the war had never happened.

Trish’s phone buzzed. D had replied.

D: Hey kid! Sorry, at the gym downtown. What’s up??

T: Nothing really, on the way to pick up my sister from practice

D: Im glad you texted! Was worried you were scared off

T: I mean, nearly

How did you get inside?

D: Balcony door

T: Okay but HOW

D: Kid...

A short series of images loaded. D was flexing in the wall of mirrors at this gym. Her halter top was really a low-cut bra with mesh netting covering the rest of her chest. A small pair of shorts clung to the lines of her pelvis, thighs, and glutes. She bent, flexed, and posed to give Trish all sorts of angles.

Trish tried to look objectively at D’s level of fitness, but the outfit and how she was bending made that difficult. Especially in full view of a fairly populated gym; some of the other members were ogling, as well.

I bet she loves the attention…

D: I work hard to be able to do just that kind of stuff

Btw your sister has a nifty stash of fun clothes you might not have seen

T: How? Where does she get it from?

D: Idk, ask her

T: I’m not asking her

D: Buzzkill

Oh, have you used my panties?

T: I tried them on, but they’re too big

D: Lmao

That’s not what they were for

T: Huh?

D: Some people like to….use worn panties

Figured I’d give you the option

T: OH

That

Didn’t occur to me

D: Lol

You guys are around like West End?

T: Yeah, we’re pulling up to campus now

D: Gonna be out much longer?

T: Probably gonna meet dad for dinner

Why?

D: Nooo reason~

D stopped responding after that. Something about this woman spelled trouble, but Trish already knew that.

Does she...want me to...mess with her underwear?

Given how ready she was to put out in a gym with a stranger, it wasn’t that odd to consider. Now that Trish thought about it, D must have stripped while waiting for her to come back outside with Charlie’s clothes.

They came up to the front entrance to the college’s gym. Charlie was standing at the curb, alone in the setting sun. Trish stared at her; it just occurred to her that Charlie fit the image of what Trish would look like if she was born a girl. Envy suddenly crept up inside her.

She then saw that Charlie was staring daggers back at her. Fear shot through her skull. Was she found out? Did she notice that her clothes were rearranged?

The car came to a stop. Charlie yanked the front passenger door open.

“My seat,” she declared.

Trish nearly passed out with relief. She exited the car and got in the back seat.

The rest of the evening was much of the same. Mom bothered Charlene about practice and classes. Everything was apparently fine before Charlie buried her face in her phone.

Dinner with Dad was fast food. Trish tried to wash out Dad’s depressing tales of recent news while also fighting the urge to stare at Charlie with gendered rage. She was sweaty, tired, wisps of hair had escaped her ponytail, and she slouched in a way that made their mom’s lips perpetually pursed. Even so, Trish almost visually seethed with jealousy. She shoved a piece of overly salted chicken in her mouth to distract her thoughts.

Dad drove Trish back home. He asked about classes and classmates. Strictly professional, as always. Sometimes Trish wondered if she or Charlie were related to their father. His black hair, brown eyes, and non-pallid complexion always raised eyebrows when they were together. Even the way he regarded his children seemed overly distant, like he didn’t feel like they were his. But that could just be Trish’s imagination. She knew Mom and Dad were married years before Charlie was born, and Charlie has their mom’s nose and eye shape with dad’s stern brow and strong chin.

“Tristan, did you hear me?” Dad spoke up.

“Huh? Sorry, spaced out for a second…” Trish’s birth name shocked her attention forward.

“I asked if you wanted to do anything this weekend.”

“Uh, mom said she’d take me shopping for new clothes sometime?”

“Oh.” Dad sat silent for a moment. “Well, there’s an indoor rock climbing place that opened up downtown.”

He was quiet for another few moments. Trish didn’t respond to his statement.

“Is that something you’d want to try?”

“...I’ve never been rock climbing…” Trish muttered just loud enough over the road noise invading the cabin.

“Well, me either,” Dad replied with a weak smile. “Figured it would be something we could try.”

Trish felt emphasis on the ‘we’ in that sentence.

“I just…”

Trish saw him struggle to put his thoughts in order.

“I know you haven’t been interested in any clubs at school. College, high school, any of them. And...I was the same way. I sat in class, talked to people around me, only friends with people because I saw them in the same places everyday. I was preparing for the real world, avoiding distractions that might dilute my readiness for being an adult.

“None of that mattered when the war came.”

They stopped at a traffic light.

“I was sixteen, going on seventeen. I remember being in biology when the city walls were breached. We were rallied into the gym after we got our stuff; no one really told us what was happening. A lot happened quickly. I just remember being...well, useless.”

Trish looked at Dad’s distant gaze. It never crossed her mind about what he had seen when he was younger than her.

He recalled watching people of all ages and backgrounds using skills they learned as hobbies for collective survival. Knitting, cooking, gardening, everything that seemed like a waste of time, space, or money to him had suddenly made him obsolete, in a sense. It wasn’t until late into the city’s defense when his accounting knowledge came into play to help manage inventories.

A car honk yanked his attention to the green light.

Dad rabbit footed down the road with a meek wave towards the back windshield.

He eventually continued his story. “Well, I just thought we could try something new and see if either of us like it.”

“Yeah,” Trish replied. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

They made it home without further delaying traffic. Mom and Charlie had beaten them by a minute.

Charlie was in the shower in her and Trish’s shared bathroom. With Mom milling around the living room and kitchen, Trish figured she didn’t have an opportunity to snoop in Charlie’s room.

I didn’t really want to today, she thought. But the opportunity is still gone.

Trish sat on her bed and began wrestling with her backpack to retrieve her laptop. Once it was out, she paused. Was her backpack laying like that when she left?

No. It was laying over there because I tossed it.

She shrugged the thought away and opened her laptop. A slip of paper was nestled in the computer’s crotch.

Check under your bed when you have privacy

And send pictures ♥

Dammit, D…

Trish smiled and her heart fluttered with excitement. What did she do?

After avoiding homework and undergoing the regular nighttime rituals, the family said their good-nights and went to their rooms. Trish, as per usual, set her laptop on her desk and stayed awake. Her time was spent playing dress-up games and looking for cutesy role-playing games where she could play as a girl. A lot of things were clicking now that she claimed, well, was given, a label. Occasionally, she shamefully played a porn game, usually a visual novel, where she envisioned herself as the lady in whichever scene. This was one of those nights. Her main complaint with most games was that the action was sometimes broken up by too much conversation or monologue that didn’t really add much.

God, there’s so much talking!

She exited the game in a huff. Her shorts were tented only slightly; she got too hyped up while waiting for the steamy bits. Her patience was indirectly proportional to her horniness.

It was then that Trish remembered D’s note. She spun her chair around to face the pitch black room. The dim cone of light from her laptop wasn’t even enough lighting to make the room seem scary. She clicked her desk lamp on. With her door closed and the lamp angled just right, light didn’t seem to shine out into the hallway, which was right in front of her parents’ room.

Trish lifted her bed skirt to see a cardboard box. It was maybe a foot across and deep. Pulling it out from under the bed, it didn’t have much weight to it, but there was some rattling noises that caused prickles of fear to run down Trish’s spine. Slowly, she edged it out.

It wasn’t sealed. She moved the flaps and her vision went hazy; the contents making her lightheaded to see all at once.

There were a few pieces of folded fabric in varying colors, a basic blue bra with a matching set of panties folded inside of the cups, and couple tubes of lipstick. Most noticeable, however, were the toys. A pair of jeweled metal butt plugs, one small and one twice its size, a ribbed glass rod with a slight curve to it, another plug of a type of rubber that had two bulges rather than one, and a flat end instead of a round jewel cap, as well as a hot pink dildo with a suction cup. A bottle of lube stood in the corner.

Trish was so enamored by the collection that she didn’t notice the note propped between the toys.

Don’t try these first! Try a finger in the shower! We can show you how to use these later. Also, don’t push the whole dick in your mouth! Stay safe!

Trish thought her heart was going to jump out of her chest. It was all so much, and it fit in a tiny box.

She lifted the bra and panties. They felt so soft, so delicate; more than Charlie or Mom’s clothes. In a flurry, she stripped completely naked. The panties were pulled up her legs at a decreasing pace, first hurried then slowly. She gently pulled them up her rear then nestled over her package.

Simply the feeling of how snug they hugged her legs and cupped edges she didn’t know she had sent her mind reeling with excitement. They were so soft.

She fiddled with the bra, using the “clasp in front” trick to make up for her lack of coordination. Spinning it around and fitting the straps over her shoulders, Trish took a look in the mirror. Similar to before with D’s thong, her eyes were drawn to the lack of hips and chest. But this time, the clothes actually fit. Just having the shape of an A-cup bra and panties settled into her silhouette made a world of difference. Now she saw what she liked.

Trish posed and twirled to view all of her intimate bits in the orange-tinted shadows of her room. She loved every angle.

All of the sensations were causing her to get very aroused rather quickly; she tried keeping her erection contained under the waistband.

The desk vibrated suddenly, nearly making her scream. Her phone had gotten a text.

Damn it, D!

D: Did you find the stuff?

T: Yes, thank you so much!! Really can’t say how much I appreciate this!

D: Lmao, no prob!

But I def want pictures!

T: Im not good at pictures though

D: Cmooooon

I can show you? Come over!

T: Like, to your apartment?

D: Yep! C25! I’ll show you how to wear your garter belt and socks! Hurry~

It took Trish a long second to realize what she agreed to do. Her horny mood took control, thinking she was going to get laid.

High chance, right? I mean, considering how we met.

She rifled through the box and found a pair of sky blue, delicate see-through stockings with lace adorning the cuffs. There was a matching lacy belt with strings dangling off of it. Trish had only seen these in ads and movies and got even more excited.

Trish had silently scampered down the hallway and out the door before she realized she forgot to put anything on over her bra and panties. Or even socks or shoes.

Fuck.

A car drove by the complex.

FUCK!

Trish ducked behind the thin railing, thinking maybe the chipping paint will obstruct someone’s view.

Just go! Hurry!

She skittered to the pathways between buildings. The sounds of the night seemed to ring off the walls and glass doors. Even her bare footsteps up the stairs to D’s door resounded in her head.

25...25….25!

Trish knocked on the door. The brief pause that followed carried an inkling of doubt that she got the wrong door, which spiked when the door handle turned.

Thankfully, it was D opening it. She stood wearing only a tight black tank top and lace panties.

“Well, well!” she quietly exclaimed when she saw Trish’s state of dress.

Trish blushed and crossed her legs.

“C’mon in, sweet thing!” D stepped aside to let Trish waddle past her.

Her apartment was the same layout as Trish’s, but had much less furniture. A couch faced the wall next to the front door where a TV sat. A worn, wooden coffee table showed evidence that coasters were not present. A punching bag and other workout gear occupied the space behind it, facing the glass balcony doors. The small dining table had its chairs haphazardly around it. A faint scent of dust occasionally trailed around.

The same issue of no central light was combated by a standing lamp against the wall by the hallway to the rooms.

D strode past her and sat on the couch. Trish couldn’t help but watch her ass and legs go by.

“Get over here so I can see you, hon” D beckoned.

Trish sheepishly came into the white lamplight. D clapped and squealed with delight as she did. She fawned over Trish’s body, tracing her hands over curves and details. Trish thanked her repeatedly to distract herself from getting aroused.

D snapped out of her reverie when she noticed Trish had brought the garter and stockings. They took a minute to get them on Trish’s lightly hairy legs, and D was beside herself once they were. She picked up her phone off the coffee table and had Trish pose on and off the couch for some glamour shots.

Trish’s head was hazy during the activity; a lot of thoughts fought to be front and center. She stood, sat, crouched, leaned, cupped, and spread parts of her body in ways she couldn’t imagine were sexy to see.

After probably two dozen pictures, they stopped to let Trish breathe.

“Helena is gonna love these,” D said, going through them. Trish watched, leaning into her shoulder. They were a mixed bag of sensual and erotic. D definitely had an eye for directing her into flattering configurations.

D looked at her, smiling. Their faces were close enough to make Trish blush, yet again. She glanced all around the woman’s face. Her sharp eyes, proud nose and cheeks, those lovely lips…

D chuckled and gave Trish a peck on the lips while she was distracted. Startled, Trish made a noise and recoiled. D laughed and leaned in to kiss her again. Her slower approach gave Trish the opportunity to kiss back. Simple kisses changed to lustful licking. Trish gained momentum.

D pulled the girl into her lap, rubbing the nylon-covered thighs as they straddled her. They continued kissing. D directed Trish’s arms and hands around her neck to let her be more feminine. She stroked and gripped the tiny waist wriggling in her lap, feeling her dick rub her stomach through the thin panties.

They pulled away from each other, breathing heavy.

“I want you in me,” D groaned in her low, sexy voice.

Trish’s body went hot, her cock instantly rigid.

“I-I’m….” she tried speaking.

“Are you a virgin?”

“N-no, but, I’m not...good.”

“Just feel good for me…”

D started grinding her crotch against the half-covered cock. Her juices left a trail along the shaft.

“Please?” D feigned a whine. She stroked Trish’s tip, smearing precum all over the head.

On autopilot, Trish aimed her dick at the darker spot of the black panties. D slid them aside, chuckled in that low voice again. The head slipped inside easily, the pussy eager to be filled.

D cupped Trish’s hips before digging her nails into them. She pulled her forward, slamming their pelvises together. Trish cried out in surprise and ecstasy. She pressed her face into D’s neck, breathing heavily. D gave a sigh from deep in her chest.

“Now, fuck me.” D commanded.

Trish rocked her hips slowly. The sensation was a lot to take in at once, and she didn’t want to finish too early. It was only her second time.

D rubbed and teased the girl’s back and rear, tracing her fingers under the edges of her lingerie and lightly raking her nails up her back.

“Lean up,” she said, pushing the girl so she could see her whole body. D drank in the sight of pale white skin decorated by baby blue lace. That face showed only one thought was running through the girl’s mind. Trish started pulling herself out more as she fucked D’s now dripping wet pussy. It did strike her as odd how little D reacted in contrast to the noise their sex was making.

D stripped her top in a fluid motion.

“Remember getting me all sticky?” she said, preening her gorgeous breasts.

Trish took hold of them, fucking her faster.

“Lick them.” Another stern command.

Trish immediately started licking and kissing the woman’s nipples and chest. She payed no heed to how much spit she left everywhere.

She felt heat build below her abdomen. Her cock got harder, it seemed, and it urged her to go faster.

“Smile, baby!” D said.

Trish looked up to see D aiming her phone camera at her. Blushing, but not shying away, Trish kept up her pace.

“Lemme see that dick, hon,” D leaned her up again to film them fucking. Trish could only imagine how it looked close up. Just like in porn.

Could I be a porn star?

D panned herself back to shoot Trish’s whole body, crotch to face. She reached a hand up to her cheek; Trish pressed her face into it instinctively. D’s thumb rubbed her lips.

“Suck it,” she whispered, “like a dick.”

Trish understood, her vision going fuzzy. She phased in and out between sucking D’s thumb and trying to suck Helena’s fat cock. The memory made more heat build.

“Such a good girl!” D cooed. “Can I try something?”

Trish nodded, not really hearing her. D pulled her hand away and caressed Trish’s neck. She suddenly gripped it, pressing her fingers into the sides of Trish’s throat. The girl gasped, mildly shocked, but so, so aroused. Her head started to swim. She couldn’t see the room anymore. Even the light stopped shining through her eyelids.

D, however, saw everything through her camera. She got the moment she slowed her toy’s blood flow. It made her pause, but she came back faster and harder. Her blue eyes rolled up and disappeared behind fluttering lids. A glimpse of the tip of her tongue could be seen in her open mouth. Trish reflexively held onto D’s controlling arm to steady herself.

D panned her filming arm out to catch the motion of Trish’s back. It curved from neck to pelvis as she buried her cock completely nearly twice a second. Then three times. Then four. Her breathing became mewls and whines before long. Soon there was no pause between her noises. D tightened her arm to keep Trish upright.

“That’s it!” D cheered her on. “Keep going! Cum! Fill me up!!”

Trish cried out. D felt the cock nearly explode inside her. Trish barely slowed any. She fucked her cum into every inch of cunt she could reach. Her seed was squished out, soaking D’s panties, thighs, ass, and couch. Thirty seconds of orgasm.

And D caught it all on camera.

Once empty, Trish could only shudder in place. A wave of tension surged across her muscles every few seconds. She was winded and lightheaded, but so satisfied. She collapsed onto D, who laughed and hugged her. She whispered praises and held her close.

Not five seconds later, Trish was asleep.

“Shit.”

Some shuffling, some fluid smearing, and Trish was laying on the couch under a blanket. D stared at her.

“Shit.”

Her phone started buzzing on the floor. It was her boss.

“Shit!” she hissed.

D took the call down the hallway. She had a job to do. In five minutes, she had wiped her pits and slits, changed clothes, and texted Helena to come take care of Trish.

Did I take this too far?

“Psst!”

Something jostled Trish.

“Trish!”

She stirred, eventually opening her eyes at an irritation. Helena stood over her.

“Wake up!”

Trish bolted upright, nearly colliding with Helena’s chin. The kitchen light was on, bathing the table across from her in harsh white light.

“W-what time...Where?”

“Calm down! It’s only 2:30. Here,”

Helena picked up a glass of water from the coffee table and handed it over.

“Drink up. Gotta stay hydrated after intense sex.”

Trish nearly choked on her first sip, somehow forgetting why she was there. But she did as she was told and finished the small glass.

“Thanks,” she said, handing it back. She then saw Helena’s outfit.

A tight, jet black leather dress stretched from the tops of her thighs to the faintest edge of her nipples. Her jacket was a dull red and cropped to only cover her bust if closed. On top of how much her dick bulged out and tits threatened to escape, Helena’s makeup was loud and proud. Bold reds covered her cheeks, eyes, and lips with expertly thin streaks of white outlining her feathery eyeliner.

“Wow,” was all Trish could manage.

Helena giggled, posing for her. “Why, thank you! Here,”

She handed a small plate with a cucumber and tomato sandwich, evenly quartered.

Trish moved the blanket to sit correctly. Helena cooed as the nylon legs came into view. Too tired to rebuttal, Trish let it happen. Helena sat next to her, waiting on her to finish a bit of food.

“You look great on camera, by the way,” was Helena’s new icebreaker.

“….Thanks,” Trish shoved another triangle into her mouth to distract herself.

“Of course! I’ll send you all the one’s Gray sent me. And the video. She’s pretty great, isn’t she?”

“Yeah...but, I hate that she didn’t finish.”

“Oh, don’t worry. She’s pretty chaotic with what gets her off and by how much. The other night at the gym was a really quick one.”

“Where is she?”

“She got called in to work, though I don’t know why. She had time to text me stuff, so it might not be too bad.”

“Oh. What does she do?”

Helena paused. Knew this would come.

“Gray’s a Hunter.”

Trish whipped her head at her, and Helena just shrugged.

‘Hunter’ was basically slang for dishonorably discharged soldiers for things during the war. Most of the time they followed orders and this was the easiest way for the governments to muzzle hundreds of soldiers. They work as mercenaries and are almost always on the wrong side of the law. Gray couldn’t have been a soldier back then, so she must have gotten into the business some other way.

“Isn’t that...illegal?”

“Mm, not really? She’s not freelance, she works with a contractor. Sometimes she does hits and illicit stuff, but a lot of jobs are security. And even then, she works as a dancer when contracts are kinda dry.”

Trish had a faraway gaze. A flicker of fear danced around in her stomach.

“Is now a good time to mention I’m a hooker?” Helena gave an awkward smile.

Trish paused, still in shock.

“I mean…” Trish had a hard time looking back at her. “Explains the outfit.”

“Speaking of, help me out of this thing.”

Helena cast her jacket aside, turning so her back faced Trish. “I can’t reach the zipper. Tiny thing in the middle.”

Trish decided to help. They were friends, after all. She fiddled with the stupidly small but impressively strong zipper holding the dress taut. It ran to the small of her back, opening to reveal a discreet corset. Helena stood to shimmy out of the dress.

The corset was cup-less; it had a shelf to give boobs a lift without covering them. A hot rod red jockstrap cupped Helena’s package and pressed into the curves of her cushioned ass. Trish made a small noise in her throat; Helene either didn’t notice or care.

She unlatched the tactical breast and waist enhancer from itself about fifteen times. It fell away in two halves. Helena groaned in relief, her stomach and hips falling into a natural shape as her breasts hung free.

“You look like a butterfly breaking out of a cocoon!” Trish laughed.

“That’s what it feels like! Fuck,” Helena slouched her shoulders and breathed deeply. “I know you have questions…I’m gonna put a shirt on and take my face off. Want something else to wear?”

Trish stared at the woman’s panties. Outlines of her details were very visible.

“Uh, you’re...a bit bigger than me. Everywhere.”

Helena laughed. “I meant to relax! That new bra and garter has got to be bugging you by now.”

If she hadn’t have said anything, Trish wouldn’t have noticed. They were starting to itch.

“Be right back,” Helena disappeared down the hall.

Trish struggled to reach her bra clasp, but eventually conquered it. She saw it had left an imprint all around her chest, back, and started to do the same around her breasts. Well, pecs. The belt had done similar damage to her hips, mostly from the seams. Luckily, her panties were gentle and virtually seamless.

All but naked, Trish bundled up in the blanket. She heard the sink from the hallway bathroom turn on.

Must be nice to get that one all to yourself.

She finished her sandwich by the time Helena came back in sweatpants and a large shirt; her boobs still very prominent and causing the hem to hang away from her stomach. She offered Trish a bundle of fabric.

“It’s all I have here that’s clean,” she explained.

Trish took the clothes, unfurling them to show an over-sized shirt and some tall socks. The shirt was bright pink with the word ‘SLUT’ written across the front in white, 8-bit letters.

“All I have!” she reiterated.

Trish put it on. She tried using the technique D had shown her with the stockings to put these socks on. They were burgundy, wool, and much more comfortable than nylon.

Helena had stepped into the kitchen to get a couple canned drinks and a bag of chips.

Trish watched her fiddle with the bag, cans, and couch. She must have worn some makeup to the gym the other night. Her eyelids bulged over her eyes more than Trish had noticed before. There were creases and laugh lines around her mouth. Her cheekbones weren’t visible, which colored Trish impressed by her makeup skills to...create them, essentially, while also concealing the sheets of freckles across her face and neck.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you wanted this,” Helena held up an unopened can of ginger ale.

“I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“Yeah!”

They snacked for a moment.

“So,” Trish eventually said, “if D is a Hunter...how old is she?”

Helena washed her chips down before responding. “She’s in her mid-twenties, we think. She’d have been born around the end of the war, or soon after.”

“Wait, you don’t know?”

“No one does. Gray’s an orphan; we both are. No record of her birth or parents was ever found. We’re not even sure if she was born into an orphanage or if she just ended up at one. She was in and out of juvie a lot. Got a reputation as a scrapper, still, depending on who you ask. Gray is a lot calmer now, though she can get riled and stay riled for a bit if pressed.

“The system wasn’t kind back then. A lot of homeless kids and families needing government help with not a lot to spare. Not a lot of schools, either. And even less patience for orphans forced to be there. Our whole generation is mostly outcasts and criminals because that’s what we had to do to survive.”

Trish’s heart sank.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Helena continued, “I like my job. It’s work and I gotta do lots of body maintenance to handle whatever comes my way, but its fun. Gray helped me get in with her boss at the club she dances at, so I have a schedule and a boss rather than a pimp and a collar.”

“Um, why do you call her Gray?”

“That’s her name, sweetie!” Helena chuckled. “Dialetta Gray Sun. Gray is what people called her growing up; probably her eyes. Not sure where ‘Dialetta’ or ‘Sun’ came from. I think she was just trying to be cute the other night by letting you use a pet name for her.”

“She just...made up a name?”

“Isn’t that what you did?” Helena slowly crunched a chip for emphasis.

“Well, kinda. I was about to tell you my real name, but stopped partway.”

“Your name is whatever you want it to be. It doesn’t have to be the same, you can change it whenever you like. If you get tired of ‘Trish’ you can just be someone else.”

Trish blinked a few times. “Huh.”

“Also, if you decide you don’t like being a girl, you can stop. There’s no one way to be a person.”

“Well...I’m liking it so far!” Trish beamed.

“It’s not all about sex, ya know.”

“Says the prostitute?”

They laughed, Helena batting Trish’s knee.

“It’s more important to be comfortable in your own skin than being a hot piece of ass.”

“What if being hot makes me comfortable?”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but that’s a way to start. Don’t make it your whole personality, or it’ll become your whole life. You’ve seen girls who’re just showing off how good they look all the time?”

“Yeah, I started college this year.”

“Well, ever see moms with, like, nine kids at twenty-five, soulless eyes, and a fantastic rack? Same girls. It’s easy to get hung up on things that make you feel good. Girls can look sexy in a million different ways; there’s always some guy wanting what you’re offering. There is a draw to being a whore. Having random people from all walks of life openly tell you how much they like looking at you, what they want to do to you, you find yourself intoxicated. You’ll do stuff that you don’t even like or makes you uncomfortable, but you’re being appreciated. You see and feel a reaction in someone else. You can get drunk on that feeling.”

Helena started trailing off. It seemed like she was reminding herself of what to avoid in her line of work. Though, it must be very convenient not being able to get pregnant.

Trish asked another question when she paused to take a sip. “Uh, can I inquire about how you got...how’d you get your boobs to look like that?”

Knew this was coming, too, Helena thought.

“So.” she said before a definite pause. “I’m not trans.”

“...But-”

“Ehhhehehe, lemme finish!” She cut off Trish’s confusion. “Like I said, I was also an orphan. I got adopted by an alchemist, who used me as a test subject. It wasn’t bad, he wasn’t a Frankenstein or comic book villain. He had ideas he wanted to work on that people didn’t want to fund. Most of his projects revolved around the idea of elixirs doing more than just healing, like limb regeneration, accelerating bone growth, stuff like that. He came across an idea that he obsessed over for a while. Once he had a stable concoction to test, he gave it to me.”

She patted her crotch. “It worked.”

Trish’s mouth was agape. Helena continued, “It converted my uterus, ovaries, tubes, everything into a cock and ball set. I still get cramps, but that’s an estrogen thing. I’m basically intersex now because I have both estrogen and testosterone working in me.”

“Okay…” Trish began. “THAT could not have been legal.”

“Oh, fuck no! He got caught and arrested. They put me back in the orphanage when I was seventeen. Less than a year later, I hit the streets.”

“Can you get someone pregnant?”

“I cannot. I’m technically infertile. He changed my shape, not my genetics. Technically, I don’t produce sperm. Never got that fully explained. I do have a prostate, though!”

“What’s a prostate?”

“…...I would like to show you if you are willing to do some un-sexy prep work.”

“Uh, sure?”

Helena pulled Trish into the hall bathroom. After giving a quick primer of how to work with a prostate and what she needed to do, Helena left her to clean up. Suddenly self-conscious, Trish got to work on her rectum.

A few minutes later, she was sure she was as clean as could be without a pressure washer and bleach. She left the bathroom to see Helena waiting for her.

“Ready?” she asked, chipper as ever.

“Uh, I think?”

“Okay! If you feel uncomfortable, or if anything starts to hurt, say something. No pain is too small.”

“Are you gonna…” Trish looked nervously at Helena’s crotch.

“No! No, no. You gotta do more work for that. It’s not a vagina, it doesn’t loosen itself.”

She lightly pushed Trish’s back against the wall. “And I’ll be gentle,” were her last, soft words before their lips met. Their heights were so close that their bodies naturally meshed. Helena’s breasts squished and rubbed against Trish as they kissed and nibbled on each other’s lips. Trish wrapped her arms around her neck like Gray had shown her. The simple gesture had a disproportionately massive feminizing effect. Helena made that skyrocket when she grabbed her waist. Pulling their hips together made their dicks rub against each other. Helena gently humped her bulge into Trish’s pelvis and across her crotch. They felt each other stiffen.

“You’re so cute,” Helena whispered. She attacked Trish’s neck with kisses and licks.

Trish moaned and gasped. She felt her panties get tugged down before both hands caressed her cock. Her own hands pressed into Helena’s back and shoulders.

Before she knew it, Trish was turned around with her hands against the wall. Helena groped her ass, directing her legs apart and to stick her hindquarters out further. She felt her panties stretched tight at her knees. The position alone made Trish hotter.

“Hm, looking good!”

Trish craned her neck. Helena was kneeling behind her, spreading her ass to look at her hole and taint.

Trish made some kind of noise when she felt a tongue against her taint. Helena gave it wet, sloppy kisses. She then flattened her tongue, licking from the base of the balls all the way over her virgin hole.

“You okay?” Helena asked.

“Y-yeah…”

Helena slid her tongue inside Trish’s ass, tonguing it a few times. Trish whimpered.

Fuck, that feels good!

“Ooh, baby liked that,” Helena said, standing. “You did a good job,” she whispered before pecking Trish’s cheek. She was spun around again, shoulders leaned against the wall with her crotch extended outward.

Helena made a small show of taking her shirt off. She leaned over Trish to let them drop onto her chest as they were released.

Helena exchanged her shirt for a small, clear bottle. “Always use lube for butt stuff,” she instructed. “Also, prostates are more receptive when the person is already aroused.”

She coated a hand in lube, reached underneath Trish and started smearing it all inside her ass. A chill ran up her spine from the cold liquid.

“Can you put your hands together for me?” Helena asked.

“Like…” she put her hands in front of her like she was praying.

“Perfect,” Helena grabbed the hands and pinned them to the wall above her head. At the same time, she slid her middle finger into Trish’s ass. Trish squirmed and mewled. Their eyes were locked on each other’s. Helena gazed back with a mischievous grin. She rotated her finger in a circle to loosen the hole. Trish couldn’t stop moaning. Another finger slid inside. Together, Helena started fingering her properly. Gentle movements at first, then longer strokes.

Trish felt her focus on rubbing the...front?

“Feel that?” Helena asked.

Trish wasn’t sure what she meant. She also couldn’t really focus.

“Aww, has my baby forgotten how to speak?”

Trish just whimpered in response, almost instinctively. Words couldn’t form in her mouth.

Helena began rubbing the front slower and harder. “That spot,” she explained, “is your prostate. Your g-spot, basically. You like it when I touch it?”

Trish nodded.

“I can tell. You’re a leaky, whiny mess.”

Precum had trailed down Trish’s cock to her balls, but the poor thing hadn’t noticed.

“I’m gonna let go of your hands. But, you can’t touch yourself. Understood?”

“Y….yea..”

Helena released Trish’s hands, who wrapped them around her own shoulders to hold onto something. Helena got on her knees.

“I want you all over my tits, is why,” she said with a blushed smile.

Suddenly, the fingering sped up. Trish’s knees were going weak.

Helena watched the girl’s dick leak a bit more until it came out slightly milky.

“Don’t hold back, baby!” she said as she pressed her boobs against Trish’s thighs. A moment later, the half-stiff cock released ropes of cum. It shot everywhere, unable to be controlled. It hit Helena’s chest, neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Trish moaned, borderline screamed, the whole orgasm.

Helena slowed her strokes to gentle rubs before pulling her fingers out. Trish just sank to the floor, exhausted once again.

Helena stepped into the bathroom to rinse her hands off. She got Trish to her feet and helped, more so carried, her back to the couch. She snuggled the panting girl, giving her lots of praise.

“Don’t fall asleep, again,” she joked when Trish’s head started going lax. She only got a long groan in reply.

“What’s that?” Helena thought she heard an unintelligible phrase.

“Neither….of you finished…” Trish said, dejectedly.

“Honey, its okay! Sex isn’t always about getting to cum. It’s about having fun. I had fun, and Gray definitely did!”

Trish snuggled into Helena more. She crept her hand across Helena’s thigh to her crotch.

“Baby,” Helena cooed.

“I’ve been...thinking about it,” Trish muttered.

“Ohh, really?” Helena shimmied her waistbands down under her crotch.

Trish wasted no time and lowered her lips onto the flaccid cock. She tongued under the foreskin, cupping her balls in one hand and stroking the shaft in the other.

“Have you been practicing?” Helena asked.

Trish took her mouth away to reply. “I’ve been watching lots of videos.”

“Such a dirty girl!”

Trish giggled and resumed licking the cock. Helena reached over to grope Trish’s ass, stroking her hole and gripping her cheeks. Trish reveled in the attention, as well as feeling the cock stiffen in her mouth. After a minute of licking, slurping, and sucking, it was erect.

“Oh, baby,” Helena mumbled, “you feel fantastic. But, I hate to say, I am not gonna get anywhere like this.”

Trish looked up at her.

“I fuck all the time, hon. My resistance is high. But I have an idea.”

She slid out from under Trish and jogged to her room. A few moments of rustling, she returned with a black object that looked like a water bottle.

“Lay down,” she commanded. Trish laid on her back. “Roll over. Gimme that ass, hon.” Helena slipped a hand under Trish’s hip to feign flipping her over.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Helena flipped the cap off of the black tube, revealing a fake vagina. “You’re gonna hold this between your thighs and I’m gonna fuck it.”

Trish’s eyes widened, loving the idea. She opened her thighs; Helena slid the pussy between them, as close to her crotch as she could without hitting her balls.

Helena started licking Trish’s hole. She squeezed the quivering cheeks and thighs as they tried to escape the affection. Once she had built up enough saliva, she quickly gave the pocket pussy some wetness. A knee slid between Trish’s thigh and the back of the couch, making her tighten her hold on the cup. Propping her hands around Trish’s torso, Helena mounted the girl, sliding her cock into the cup all the way to the base.

Trish felt Helena’s breath on her neck. Her breasts touched her back. She heard the sound of the dick sliding out of the cup, only to feel it slam back in. Helena’s hips bounced off of Trish’s thighs. Then again, and again. She fucked the cup with increasing power. Trish could feel her thighs losing some feeling, like she was being spanked repeatedly.

Helena put her hands on Trish’s shoulders, gripping tightly before speeding up. Trish started breathing in time with the impacts. Helena started moaning, giving Trish praises about how cute she is and how good her holes feel.

She changed speeds multiple times. Fast, slow, hard and soft. A few moments were spent laying completely on Trish’s back, humping her and nibbling on the nape of her neck.

“Baby,” Helena breathed into her ear, “where do you want it?”

“Can you...do it in my ass?”

“Of course,” she laughed.

Helena went to town on the cup. One hand gripped the nape of Trish’s neck, the other was nearly a fist in the blanket. She grunted as she pounded Trish red.

Trish reached for her ass, pulling a cheek away from her needy hole. A moment later Helena cried out. She yanked her dick from the cup and stuck it right against Trish. She came, shooting cum onto her hole and up her ass. Some strands leapt onto the small of her back, sticking to the borrowed shirt.

Helena tried tucking her tip inside of Trish to give her some seed, but none went in very well. Trish, however, was stunned stiff. The feeling, the smell, she was intoxicated. She knew it was a fantasy of getting fucked, but it was so much closer than she had been before. Now, she knew she wanted to try it for real.

Helena pulled the cup out from Trish’s thighs. “Smile, hon!” before a shutter noise brought Trish back into the room.

She spread herself so Helena could get a better shot of her handiwork. Cum stretched across her cheeks like a spiderweb. Helena squished her still-twitching dick into her ass crack, taking another picture for scale. Flattening herself against Trish’s back again, Helena slowed her breathing as she snuggled.

“You’re so much fun,” she giggled into her ear. They kissed for a moment.

After Helena caught her breath, she unstuck her dick from Trish’s ass.

“Alright,” she said, stretching. “Let’s get cleaned up so you can get home.”

They shared a gentle shower. Trish found it awkward how hard it made her as they wiped each other clean. Helena definitely spent longer than necessary on her nether regions. Trish decided to tease back by pressing completely against the woman’s back and rear as she lathered her dick and breasts. For every moment of washing, there was a minute of fondling.

Eventually cleaned and dried, Helena walked Trish’s half-naked self back to her apartment.

“I know we’ve done nothing but bone,” Helena whispered, “but if you want to just hang out, don’t be shy.”

“Yeah,” Trish whispered back. “That’d be fun.”

She hugged her friend from the side, but Helena pulled her into a proper embrace instead. It was a tight hold, one that Trish felt in her breathing. Something about it seemed...right. Good. Like she needed it this tight. She tried pulling her in tighter, like she could bring their souls closer if she did it just right.

Helena gave a noise signaling she was being squeezed to death. Trish relaxed her hold. They looked at each other for a long moment before Helena leaned in for a kiss. Of course, Trish accepted it.

She expected it to be wet and sloppy, or at least pushy and wanting; it wasn’t. Helena was gentle. Their lips were barely locked together. It reminded Trish of her very first kiss a few years ago, without the nervous twitching from both sides. Just enough to display and share in each others’ affection.

When Helena pulled away and left with a bright smile, Trish could have sworn she was blushing.

[m3dardas]

HELLO, NEIGHBOR.

modern!violet x fem!reader

next part: part two

warnings: language, bestie!caitlyn, awkwardness, grumpy!violet, enemies to lovers?

blurb: you could thank your friendly realtor for finding the best apartment in the city. you could also thank her for your foul tasting encounter with your neighbor. thanks cait.

author’s note: i’m in desperate need for vi like rn. y’all know a love a cute mini-series. this ain’t a one stop shop over here. i just don’t know how many at this given moment :)) i might not even be mini... it could be legit.... we’ll see.

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Moving as an adult was no fun — it was actually completely boring.

The fun part was the apartment hunting. Not so much the comparing of prices, but the imaginative part. Where you visualized yourself living your life inside of that apartment — all while you took the tour. However, you have now reached the moving in process. Unpacking all of your boxes, and actually moving into your new place.

Which, by far, was the worst part.

Cardboard boxes nearly covered the entire floor plan of the apartment. Your furniture wasn’t going to be delivered until next week — so it was just going to be you and those goddamn boxes, and a blow up mattress.

Thankfully, your friend had scheduled to help your for the next few days. Oh, and she was your realtor — Caitlyn Kiramman. Probably, one the best real-estate agents in the city.

“Let’s just crack open a bottle, and start unpacking — make this more enjoyable.”

“Crack open a bottle of what?”

Caitlyn grins, sporting her charming smile as she waltzes over to the kitchen in her comfortable house slippers — the ones she carries in her purse. The portables. The kitchen was damn near empty, just filled with a ton of boxes. However, when she’d arrived she came bearing gifts.

Pulling out two deep olive green bottles from her purse, she jumped on her toes excitedly. Two bottles of merlot. “Crack open these babies. One for you, one for me.”

You hum, trotting towards her. “What exactly did you mean by... Enjoyable? Wine drunk on a Tuesday, when I should be unpacking my things?” You raised your eyebrows, digging into a box. Sounds of crumbling echoed off the walls as you tossed out the protective paper. Reaching inside, you plucked two crispy clean wine glasses.

The blue-haute designed, taking the portable cork remover from her bag. She popped out both the corks, starting to pour your glass. “I’m just trying to help you relieve some stress, y/n. Moving in is rough — I would know.” She spoke, while pouring the bitter substance into the bowls.

Taking your moderately filled glass, you held it properly by the stem. “Why don’t we just drink a bit, slowly unpack — just relish in sealing the deal on this amazing flat!”

She always did have a celebratory mind — her profession was right up her league. Apprehensive, you take a few seconds to loosen your shoulders. Clinking the bowl of your glass, you completely give in. “Let’s do this your way.” You sip the substance, allowing it’s bittersweet flavor to dance along your tongue. The aged grape juice quenched your thirst, while sending slight buzz to your brain.

And that’s what the rest of the night was going to look like. Buzzing grape juice slipping down your throat. Glass after glass. Not so much unpacking, though. Because once music was added to the pair of you, all the priorities were out the window. You swung each other around, not forgetting to take sips of the deep cherry wine.

Next thing you know, both bottles were empty and the two of you were laying in starfish position on the wooden floor. Old Katy Perry songs blasting through Caitlyn’s portable speaker. I kissed a girl — to be exact. Which was really on brand for the two you, you guys just happened to enjoy it way more than Katy.

“How the hell am I gonna put all these things awayyyy?” You drawled, whining with a pouty face. The wine didn’t help your want for a quick fix. If you had the power to snap your fingers and all of your belongings be put in place — you’d snap in a hurry. “The merlot wasn’t a good idea, Caitlyn.”

Her mouth fell open, swiveling her head towards you. Her blue strands spread along the floor. “My bad for caring about my best friends livelihood.”

“Livelihood? I’m just exhausted, Cait, that’s normal.”

“Not to mention the fact that you’ve been oh, so, lonely for the past year and a half.”

You sit up abruptly, deepening your eyebrows. “There’s nothing wrong with being lonely.” Shrugging defensively, you stand up, crossing your arms over your chest. Caitlyn mirrored you, standing up. Katy Perry was still playing in the background, causing the two of you to yell over her lyrics. “There’s nothing wrong with being alone, but there is something wrong with being lonely.”

There’s something wrong?

Sure, you’ve been alone for... Awhile. Alone as in, without a significant other, or even trying to look for one. You’ve had hookup’s in the past, but it’s been a very dry season lately. With working yourself to the bone, just to be comfortable enough for this apartment — busyness has conquered you. There was no chance for free time to... Not be lonely.

“Oh, so... You’re not lonely?” You deepen your eyes, delivering an accusatory glare.

She straightened her posture, crossing her arms over her chest. “No... I’m freely dating. And I suggest you do the same — it’s fun.”

“Or more stressful.”

“Trust me, y/n, it’s not. As long as you go at it the right way.” She grinned, exposing her little gapped tooth. Caitlyn approached you, placing her hands on your shoulders. “You’re not worth all this stagnancy. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever encountered — inside and out. And it would be selfish of me to keep that all to myself.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, accepting her complimenting words. The blue-haired was just coming from a concerned place. She’s been noticing how hard you’ve been working, yet giving barely any time for play. No pain, no gain — right? “Thanks, Cait.” You looked up at her tall figure, as she pulled your into a tight hug. Her long arms wrapping around yours shoulders, firmly. Laying her head atop of yours, placing a short kiss on your forehead.

She hummed against your hair. “I love you, y/n, alright? I just want the best for you.”

“I love you, too — and, I know, I know.” You snicker, linking your wrists together along her defined spine. “It’s just... Nobody likes to be called lonely, and that it’s wrong. Even if it is.” You pouted, scrunching up your eyebrows to maintain that firm demeanor.

She pulled away, keeping her hands on the shoulders. “Yes, I know... The truth hurts.” Caitlyn shrugged, a playful grin pulling onto her lips. Squinting your eyes, the corner of your lips curling in preparation to make a petty comment. A knock at your door sounds above the music. It was tired, as if the knocking had been already going on — even though, this was the first you’ve heard of it.

“Hm. Who could that be?” You muttered, mostly to yourself. But, of course, Caitlyn heard. She grinned, raising her eyebrows. Gesticulating for you to run and answer the door promptly. This was your very first knock on your recently purchase apartment.

You scurry to the door, after hearing the knock once more. “Coming! Gimmie one second!” You pushed through the big boxes — some that were open, some that were still taped shut. The blue-haired lowered her speak immediately.

Finally, getting to the door, with a anxious breath leaving your lips. You released the chain lock, then flicking the deadbolt to the left to pull it open. As if it was all in slow motion, the door had opened revealing a persons back.

They had short magenta hair, nearly red — you weren’t sure. Sporting a fitted wifebeater that was slightly see through — so you could see the faint details of the dark ink etched in their fair skin, alongside the dusted freckles on the backs of their shoulders — not mention the obvious strength in them. They also wore a pair of grey sweatpants, leading to a light pink pair of bunny slippers.

Too busy sizing the stranger up, they’d pivoted catching you eyeballing their muscular frame. With raised eyebrows and bits of confusion in your eyes, beside the obvious attraction. The stranger deepened their dark eyebrows, piercing their powdery blue eyes at you — no. Through you. “Runeterra to new neighbor...” They waved their hand in front of your face, cutting you out of your state of awe.

Their voice was slightly raspy and even — practically music to your ears. They happened to be a few inches taller than you, so their head tilted slightly downward — enforcing their natural intimidation.

Popping back into the real world, you immediately apologize. “Oh, yeah... Hi, sorry.” You nervously giggled, leaning onto your unstable door. Connecting your hip to the the thin edge, you rocked with the door. Until it metaphorically shoved you off, causing your trip on your own feet. You sniffed, pushing the stray pieces of hair from your face — if there was any — clearing your throat.

Raising their eyebrows, they pushed a faux grin on to their lips. “Hi.” Ugh, it was so forced. “You’re music is too loud. Turn it down — the whole apartment complex doesn’t have to know that your gay.”

You couldn’t help but drop your jaw, furrowing you’re eyebrows. Blinking at the stranger slowly, trying to gauge the situation. “Unless you want everybody to know — then, props to ‘ya.”

“Or... I just like Katy Perry.” You denied, because... You’re a denier. Of course, you’re gay and are fully attracted to women — you also happened to like Katy Perry. Specifically, I kissed A Girl. And that’s no coincidence at all.

“‘California Girls’ and ‘I kissed A Girl’ playing back to back... Hm. Seems pretty gay to me.”

“Do you just come knocking on random people’s doors questioning their sexuality? That’s not very friendly.”

They chuckled to themselves, running a hand through their thick magenta strands. “Why would I want to be friendly when the same songs have been playing on repeat for the past four hours.” Her voice began getting sterner and sterner. “And, this might come as a shocker to you, but people need sleep. People have important things to do, and I happen to be one of those people.”

“So, I would prefer that you cut the slumber party shit, and start again tomorrow — when everyone is awake.”

Your face was stuck in a confused and appalled expression. How could someone be so bold and apathetic to someone who just moved in. What happened to common courtesy? Even if the music was too loud — you just moved in. A simple complaint would’ve been appreciated.

Feeling a presence over your shoulder, you peer over to the blue-haired stallion positioning against your doorframe. “No need to be so snappy, Violet. That’s no way to treat your new neighbor.”

“Oh, Caitlyn, of course you’d be behind this.”

“Whatever that means.” She retorted, rolling her royal eyes. “y/n, Violet — Violet, y/n.” The blue-haired quickly introduced, glancing between the two of you. “She’s a lot nicer when she’s not sleep deprived.” Caitlyn looked to you, trying assure you with her soft blue irises. You were far past intimidation — you were just annoyed at her short-circuited annoyance.

Violet rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her sweats. The muscles in her eyes slightly flexing at the stretch and pull. “Yeah, I’ve just got a big day tomorrow — so, music off... Please.” Her steel eyes glanced between the two of you, before beginning her short journey to the apartment beside yours. “If I hear anything short of cherry chapstick... I’m gonna give Caitlyn a bad review.”

She gasped, poking her head through the door. “You wouldn’t!”

“I would.” Violet squints her eyes, a slight smirk spreading her scarred lips. Then, her cool eyes flickered to you. Who was barely standing in the hallway, with your arms crossed under your chest. “Nice meeting you, new neighbor.” Sending you another fake smile.

Then, she slipped into her apartment, slamming the door shut behind her. Hearing the lock and chain of her front door.

Your eyes trail back up to your friend, who had her lips tucked between her teeth. Pivoting in her slippers, to avoid your piercing eye contact. “Having a grumpy neighbor wasn’t in the advertisement, Cait.” You shut the door, locking all the necessary locks.

“My job is to embellish, y/n. What type of embellishing would I be doing if I admitted to grumpy neighbors — that’s just for you to find out, love.” Caitlyn fanned her hand, threatening to burst into a boisterous laugh. “And, she’s not even that grumpy. It’s just late.” She paused, leaning on the counter of your kitchen. “Also... She’s kind of fit... Dontcha’ think?”

Now, that was something you could mutually agree on. She was absolutely stunning, good lord.

Wait.

You squint your eyes, picking apart her hiding smile. The constant pushing of her hair behind her ears — Caitlyn is up to something. “Dontcha’ think — what are you up to?” You mock, stalking quickly to the kitchen, standing across from her on the other side for he counter.

Caitlyn shrugs, blinking plainly. “Me? Up to something? Never!” She pulls out a few snacks from her bag, placing them on the counter. “Want to watch The L Word on my laptop and audio record our commentary?”

Her quick change of the subject was too much of a good one to pass up — this conversation will be coming back around. Caitlyn Kiramman wasn’t as slick as she thought that she was.

But, how could you resist Shane McCutcheon?

“Absolutely. Anything to distract me from these awful boxes.”

[itsuki-minamy]

MINI EPISODES: TWO PEOPLE AT SUNRISE

* Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Saruhiko Fushimi and Misaki Yata walked slowly through the center of the city.

The two were buying take out drinks at a coffee shop on the way to wake up from their drowsiness. Usually in the morning, Yata usually goes out with Fushimi to get coffee. Fushimi bought a Kirimanjaro, which was the recommended coffee today, and Yata a latte.

Starting in their 20s, they can also drink adult beverages like cocktails and whiskey, but Yata still drank straight coffee.

However, even in Yata, the need for caffeine was now urgently felt.

"How tedious."

"I'm sleepy."

The voices of the two aligned. Naturally, both bored and sleepy, they were playing a competitive game over the net until 6 a.m. It was a game with the concept of becoming a samurai, ninja, military commander, or monk in the turbulent world of Warring States, and both of them initially played the game.

"Character designers."

"Sengoku period? I'm not good at history."

He was saying that, but when he started to do it, he got stuck. At first, they played against each other, but that was not enough, so they went online and formed a team called "Sarukamo" to play against users from all over the world.

Originally, they loved the game and their breathing was perfect, so even though it was their first game, they won with the urge to break. On the contrary, it was not good. They played the game until the morning when they had to go to bed early.

First, Yata stayed at Fushimi's house so that he wouldn't be late for the filming location the next day. Fushimi's house was closer to the television station. It was decided that they would appear in the same commercial, which was unusual, and they were raving about each other.

However, the game that started with a slight curiosity, backfired. Fortunately, they noticed the alarm clock ringing and it seems they managed to wake up in time, but obviously they didn't have enough time to sleep.

Nevertheless…

"So, at that time, Saruhiko, if you had given me the Hyorogan a little earlier, I think we would have beaten the American team."

"No. It was your error of judgment, Misaki. Since there was a corps of arms, the first thing to do was guide the farmers."

They both yawned and talked about such things. They did not regret much. It's been common since they were high school students to have a morning like this, both of them playing. The relationship between them basically hasn't changed much. But…

"Hey..."

"Ah..."

They both had indescribable facial expressions. Their oversized posters were taped to the wall. They had become extremely popular and well-known idols in the national district, and they often encountered this kind of scene.

But that doesn't mean they got used to it. Feeling shy, embarrassed, happy, awkward, mysterious.

They looked back to see if some of the people coming and going had noticed their true identities. Even if they were playing online, the keyword was "Sarukarasu".

"Are you fans of Misaki Yata and Saruhiko Fushimi?"

They were asked in a chat. They couldn't tell it was them, so they ignored him, but realized that their names were getting more and more spread.

"Okay, but let's go."

Yata said with a slight feeling.

"Seeing this kind of thing motivates me."

Fushimi didn't reply, but he had a small smile on his mouth. Neither of us was afraid. However, as idols, they decided to do their best. The two of them shook off the drowsiness and began to walk forward.

Their friends and fans were waiting for them.

EXTRAS COMMENTS:

"Spoon.2Di" published two short stories of “Idol K” (2018.11 / 2019.04)

Explanation:

A story written in "Spoon.2Di" according to the copyright illustration.

It is an episode of Fushimi and Yata, Suoh and Munakata in the world of "Idol K".

"Two people at sunrise" was published in vol. 44, and "Blue Ice - Hot Red" was published in vol. 49.

Miyazawa's comment:

"Spoon.2Di" is truly indebted to me. During the broadcast of "K", we wrote articles and supported each other many times during that time, so we thought we would do our best. I would like to thank everyone. With the request for "Spoon.2Di", you can see that the world of "Idol K" has expanded to the point where requests come independently this way.

[svchengss]

hey barista! | l.dh

summary | befriending the barista from your local cafe doesn’t seem too bad

pairing | lee donghyuck x fem!reader ft. jaemin who’s a rlly cute side character in this :(

genre | fluff, angst, slight humour (?)

warnings | a kiss?? i don’t think there’s any but if i missed anything do lmk !!

word count | 3k+

s. tg | @hyuckefi [my apologies since i didn’t release a proper teaser for this 🙏🏻]

author’s note | this is my first fic exceeding 1k words so if u enjoyed reading this, please leave some feedbacks !! rb’s are also appreciated :D ALSO I SUCK AT SUMMARIES LMAO PLS IGNORE THAT

just another day of working at palm coffee, the same old routine. cleaning the countertop and tables before opening up the cafe, prepping the ingredients - more for top favourites! - and examining the machines to make sure they’re working properly. that’s some of hyuck’s daily routines as a barista. he didn’t mind them though, he loved his job. he couldn’t specify the reason why but all these tasks are genuinely interesting to him.

seeing you drop by the cafe is a normal occurrence for him. since you are a regular customer after all, the rest of the staff already know you well. heck, they’re even good friends with you. jaemin hangs out with you more than he does despite being jaemin’s childhood friend. except for him, he doesn’t really know why. he’s not really shy, considering the fact that he’s a social butterfly. he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you, the only times he did so was to take your orders when the rest of the workers were busy in the store.

upon hearing the doorbell chime which signals a new customer entering the cafe, hyuck blurted out the usual line. “hello, welcome to palm coffee! how can i help-“, looking up from the cash register only to find you in a disheveled state. “-you?” he eyes you up and down, noting how a few strands of your hair were out of place, the nude lipstick smeared on the left corner of your mouth and your outfit looks really rushed. 

“sorry, what was your name again, hyuck right?” you quickly glanced at the nametag hanging nicely on his apron. “i’m in a rush right now, can i get a,” you scanned over the menu behind him, “uh, white coffee, please?”. 

“that will be six dollars. you can use the restroom in the meantime to, you know, touch up your makeup and stuff,” he takes the bills from your hand, putting them in the machine in front of him before flashing you with that warm smile of his. you wished him a quick thanks before disappearing into the back of the place.

now that was embarrassing.

your eyes scanned over the hall to find your friend before hearing her shout your name from across. damn, why does she have to be so loud? stares were directed towards you as you walked up the stairs to your designated seat. all the chatter going on in the lecture hall became quiet as soon as your professor placed her things on the desk, which means class has started. 

after hearing a two-hour lecture and writing some notes - where suddenly song lyrics and scribbles appear - the words you’ve been waiting to hear finally echoed through the speakers. 

“class is dismissed, thank you everyone for listening,” mrs. hui’s voice later being flushed out by the buzzing voices of the students walking out the hall, determined to finish their own activities. you stuffed your ipad and papers into your light yellow jansport backpack before going out to meet vic who’s waiting for you outside. 

“i’m exhausted, what did she even teach just now?” vic sighed to her heart’s content. you can’t blame her, today’s topic was quite complicated. circuits analysis or something? you can’t really wrap your head around it, your brain being stuffed with all the information. vic kept on ranting  about the problems she faced from the moment she woke up, making you giggle at some comments she made. 

“wait for me, i’m almost done,” he folded his apron neatly before shoving it into the drawer and grabbing his bag from the counter to join jaemin, who’s waiting at the front door with the keycard. hyuck accepted jaemin’s request to help him with some shopping for his sister’s birthday party next week. obviously, the rest of the staff were also invited. 

jaemin divided the shopping list into two, allowing hyuck to find the rest of the things with ease.

“now where are the streamers…” he muttered out loud enough for himself to hear, crouching down to browse through the party decorations on the shelf. or he thought so, as you could hear him sighing clearly in dire need of the certain decoration, that you decided to help him out. 

“um, hyuck? i think the party streamers are in the aisle beside this one? you look a bit troubled there,” you chuckled lightly. the heat flushed to his cheeks, feeling dumbfounded. 

“really? uh, thank you for the help,” he gave you a small grin that could hardly be seen if you didn’t spot the corner of his lips. and with that, he’s long gone with his shopping basket.

you are fond of the atmosphere you’re in right now. the decorations left you in awe - white and pink silk hanging from the wall with silver letter balloons spelling out happy birthday stitched onto them. you can see jaemin’s sister, eun-ji, being carried out of her room with a small flowy white dress and wearing a golden bow on her head, her brunette hair being tied into ponytails. the na family really adore their youngest girl.

meanwhile, there are only a couple of adults your age attending the party -  jaemin’s co-workers, some of his other friends which you aren’t familiar with and hyuck. he looked rather chill, with an oversized beige sweater and white jeans to suit the party’s theme. you’re not quite bad as well, your hair combed nicely and kept neat with a headband, a white sundress with strawberry patterns on it fit nicely on your figure, complemented with a heart-locket necklace placed on your collarbones. before reaching jaemin’s house, you made sure to drop by a local store to get some gifts for eun-ji. she’s a very well-mannered kid which made you adore her very much.

“y/n? very glad to see you here,” hyuck said as he approached you, offering you a plate of cake which he cut.

“i could say the same to you too, mr. lee,” you let out a soft laugh. he made sure to keep a mental note over how pretty you looked today.

“y/n, hyuck! glad you two broke the ice, did you know how hurt i was seeing you two act like strangers whenever y/n came by the cafe?” jaemin enveloping you into a small hug before fake pouting. you can only laugh at the fake debate the two guys in front of you were having. after conversing with hyuck and jaemin for quite some time, you realised that he’s a cool person to talk to, where all this time, you thought he hated you for some reason. before leaving, you made sure to thank mrs. na for hosting the party and off you went home. 

following the previous encounters, hyuck felt much more comfortable around you - even hanging out with you during his shift where you would do your assignments at the cafe he’s working at. every now and then, he would also invite you to hang out with him and jaemin. however, what he didn’t realise was how he slowly pent up feelings - romantically. 

ding dong!

he pressed on the doorbell button with a box of doughnuts in his left hand. the three of you were supposed to be having a movie night, but jaemin got caught up with his groupwork which leaves the two of you alone. 

“hey hyuck! come in,” you gestured, arranging the cushions on your sofa to make it look more organized. the interior of your rented apartment is calming, the light grey walls suiting the navy blue sofa and furniture with darker undertones. the walls are also not left empty, with modern art portraits hanging from it. 

“i brought donuts, your favourite, right?” he opened the box, placing it on the coffee table while you set up the television. you wished him a quick thank you before grabbing two canned drinks from the refrigerator, handing one to him and pressing play on the remote control. you two weren’t quiet throughout the whole movie, with snarky comments on how hot the actors were or how stupid they were being were made. 

he didn’t know you were sleepy though as all of a sudden, he could feel the weight of your head on top of his shoulder. it was a rather awkward situation as he didn’t move at all so you could sleep comfortably. before long, he joined you and dozed off to wonderland. the next morning, you were more than embarrassed to find yourself cuddling up to him, with the next movie still playing on the screen.

seeing your figure outside the front door made hyuck more excited to greet you today. after making a quick order for a green tea latte, you fished out your purse from your handbag, feeling frantic if you’ve lost it outside. luckily, you were the only customer in line as the rest of them were already seated and carrying out their own businesses.

“sorry, but i think this might be yours,” you turned around to find a tall-looking guy handing out your black purse. a wave of relief washed over your soul, thanking the latter profusely.

“mind if i buy you a drink? i hate feeling like i owe someone,” you offered, which he gladly accepted. 

“i’d like a double espresso, please,” he kept his hands into his pockets. 

“and your name, sir?” hyuck looked mildly bothered.

“yukhei,” he ran his slightly blonde hair through the slender fingers. hyuck hated how cocky he looked, feeling more annoyed than ever over the scene that was played in front of him just now. he hated how yukhei looked at you. 

why should he get jealous? he’s just a mere friend to you, that’s all. you have to stop overreacting, hyuck. 

those words kept running through his mind all day.

“dude, are you okay? you looked-” jaemin opened the staff room, interrupting him from the self-talk he was having, “-distracted,” finishing up his sentence. 

“nope, i’m just fine,” he said, bringing the honey smile back onto his face. jaemin nodded before disappearing back to the front to serve the customers. 

stop being so jealous, hyuck. you’re just a friend. not more, not less. 

“jaemin, how do you know if you like someone?” that question is kind of shocking to him, especially if it’s coming from hyuck. of course, he’s had a crush before but it was during middle school. just a silly, little crush. growing up, he’s never had one - not even in high school.

“you’ve asked the right person,” jaemin managed to do his obnoxious voice, even while driving the car. he’s right, he is the matchmaker of the friend group, just how many relationships worked out because of him? eyes still focused on the road - he’s a responsible driver of course, he began to explain the feeling to hyuck, making his points loud and clear.

“first of all, you start feeling a little too happy whenever you’re around them. and no, this is not the oh-we’re-best-friends-forever type of happy, it’s the i’ll-make-you-the-happiest-person-on-earth one. not to forget, you will also experience some kind of turbulence in your heart, expect them to be jumping around a bit. or a lot, whichever suits you the best.

you also tend to feel nervous around that person. like, stuttering your words in obvious or non-obvious ways, feeling faster heartbeats than usual, you name it. oh! if you’ve ever felt jealous whenever they are around someone else, i mean, in affectionate ways, you might have one. however, my tip is for you not to act out of your mind. you don’t want to ruin whatever relationship you have currently, do you?” even when driving, he still managed to deliver his points with full precision and accuracy. 

nodding his head, hyuck took some mental notes to be thought through when he gets home. 

hyuck stared at you, whose figure is snoring soundly on his lap. he assumed you must be feeling exhausted, mid-terms just ended after all. while threading his fingers through your hair, he remembered what jaemin said to him weeks earlier.

1. being happy around them

like jaemin said, it is normal to be happy around your friends. but being with you, it kind of gave more joy for him. not to mention that he started to catch himself smiling over your texts and being reminded of you over small things - your favorite donut topping, the name of that one stray puppy you gave. 

2. feeling nervous around them

his heart would beat a lot faster whenever you get closer towards him, whether accidentally or to mess with him. 

3. getting jealous over someone else

he shouldn’t be jealous of how yukhei looked at you. but he seriously can’t help it. and the way he’s always there during your hangouts. he doesn’t care if he seems petty, yukhei just isn’t in his favour.

his deep thoughts came to a halt when you called out his name, eyes still half-closed, attempting to open them a bit more. 

“did i interrupt you or something? gosh, i’m so sorry,” you quickly stood up but he pulls your body back onto his lap, asking for you to stay.

“what are we?” that question caught you off-guard. the same one that has been at debate in the back of your mind these days. 

i don’t know hyuck, it’s complicated. 

“what do you think we are, hyuck?” you shot the question back at him, your gaze piercing through his soul.

“i don’t know. it’s just-” 

“are you sure?” a deep sigh left your lips. have you been interpreting his body languages wrong? did he only see you as a normal friend, nothing more? 

“sorry, i’m not feeling well. see you later hyuck, bye,” you tried your best to shoot the sweet smile of yours but only a faint one seemed to appear. once you stepped out of the room, he buried his face into his hands. 

god, what have i done?

“don’t feel too down, y/n. maybe there’s something more that he couldn’t bring himself to say?” vic suggested, handing you some tissue.

“i don’t know, i seriously have no idea. why can’t he just say it?” you continued to sob into her arms, she pitied you, especially in your condition right now. but she can’t do anything to help you, other than consoling and listening. 

jaemin knew something was wrong, from your rare visits to the cafe to hyuck not being himself lately. something was definitely wrong and it’s between the both of you. sure, hyuck might be saying that he’s fine again and again, but his expressions can’t lie. the sweet smile of his is long gone and his jokes are no longer heard. whatever it is, jaemin is determined to solve it. he just wants his best friends back. 

looks of dismay can be read all over hyuck’s face when the person facing him is no other than the guy himself, yukhei. still, he tried to control his composure, not making his inner feelings any more obvious.

“so what brings you here?” he took a sip of the mineral water, still making his throat rough from the tension hanging in the air. 

“look, i’m not here for any fights. i know you like y/n, everybody can see it. and honestly, you were oblivious to your own feelings,” he rubbed his hands together. the latter’s puzzled face made him continue his words.

“i’m not trying to make her like me, or whatever you’ve been assuming. sorry if i gave the wrong message but you are the one who should make a move. i can see from the way she looks at you, the feelings are mutual,” he straightened up the denim jacket outside the white shirt wrapping his figure. 

letting out a heavy sigh, hyuck’s face begins to soften up. “no, i should be the one who’s sorry. i’ve been such a prick to everyone around me lately, especially you,” he took of the cap from his head, messing up his hair. 

“no problem, bro. it’s understandable, i guess. now good luck with her, please treat her well,” the two guys exchanged a fist bump for the problem solved. jaemin leaned his back against the wall, smiling and feeling satisfied.

you called out jaemin’s name but to no avail. he invited you to his apartment but seeing that the lights are out, it’s clear enough that he hasn’t finished whatever he was doing yet. just as you were about to leave, you saw hyuck at the other side of it, both your faces mirroring the same look of confusion.

“so, uh, how have you been doing these days? it’s been a while since we talked,” he chose to break the silence. now, you two were sitting facing each other by the balcony. inhaling the breeze, you paused for a moment before responding to his question.

“i’ve been feeling, not as usual. definitely not happy but not that sad,” you pushed some of the loose hair strands hanging on your forehead behind your ears before asking about his.

“you know what, i’m just going to be direct with you. i, lee donghyuck have been holding feelings for you since i don’t know when. yeah sure, i wasn’t really sure at first about what i was going through. i guess i was just scared of how you would react,” he scratched his ears which are not feeling itchy at all, but rather an attempt to distract himself from the overwhelming emotions deep inside him. 

not wanting to waste time any longer, you placed your right hand onto his cheek, standing on the heels of your feet to bring your two lips together. the kiss was short before he pulls you back in for another, this time a more passionate one. he could feel you smile against his lips before enveloping your body into his arms.

“i’ve missed you, you know?” he whispered, his voice tender, directing right into your ears before you replied with how you missed him more. the both of you continued to whisper sweet nothings while embracing each other’s presence. 

jaemin looked at the both of you from a distance, his heart swelling with pride. 

— another pair of lovers matched, cupid jaemin signing out.

[wonpilsonefeel]

Here’s a prompt list for request.

Ask for a minimum of one number (can be more) and pairing. Also add if you want it to be angst, smut or fluff.

ALSO MY ANON PART AINT WORKING BUT I WILL KEEP YALL ANON.

I didn’t come up with these prompts.

1. "How long have you been staring at that screen?"

2. "Do you really want to test me?"

3. "How did I end up watching this?"

4. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just worried someone is going to take you away from me.”

5. “I just want to hug you and never let go.”

6. “You’re an adult! Act like it!”

7. “Did you seriously patch up a stab wound with scotch tape?”

9. “Are you stuck?”

10. “Man, you sure got knocked around a lot today.”

11. “Just the idea of anything happening to you makes me feel physically sick.”

12. A miscommunication leads to everyone being told Person A is dead, and Person B does not handle it well. When Person A shows up completely fine, Person B is overjoyed. 

13. “It shouldn’t be physically possible for me to love you this much.”

14. “What would you do if I died?” “Can we not talk about this?”

15. “They’re too good for you.”

16. “You look so cute in pajamas

17. “You’re my favorite person ever.”

18. “I love you so much I don’t know what to do.”

19. “You need to be more careful!”

20. “Why are we on the roof?”

21. “I know it’s wrong, but I love you.”

22. Why are you like this?”

23. I can handle myself. You don’t need to protect me.”

24. I miss you.” 

25. You are not fine, you’re bleeding!”

26. Look, I really screwed up and I need advice.”

27. I hope you’re here to apologize.” “Is there something you want to tell me?”

28. You are sick, therefore I am going to take care of you. End of discussion.

29. I’m fine. It was just a nightmare. You don’t need to worry.”

30. I just want to cuddle.”

31. Every day I get to spend with you is the best day.”

32. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

33. “You have the most amazing smile.”

34. “You’re just not intimidating. Sorry.”

35. ���Stop whacking me with that stupid rubber chicken!”

36. “Stop kicking me under the table!”

37. “What are you, five?”

38. “I heard a loud sound. Are you okay?”

39. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

40. “How on Earth did you get so muddy?”

41. “Close your eyes. Don’t peek.”

42. “You know, it’s hard to stay upset when I’m holding you this close.”

43. Person A spends the entire day throwing things at Person B, just for fun.

44. Person A keeps stealing Person B’s snacks.

45. You should really get some sleep.”

46. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

47. I hate children. They’re the worst.”

48. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

49. I wish you’d stop saying that.”

50. Person A tries (and fails) to convince everyone they aren’t in love with person B. 

51. I’m having a long day, okay?” 

52. Stop treating me like a child!”

53. I hate it when you rhyme my name with things.”

54.

55. Small kisses littered across the other’s face.

56. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.

57. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

58. An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

59. Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.

60. Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift.

61. French kisses where they trace every tooth with their tongues as though trying to memorize them.

62. Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

63. A kiss that lasts so long, they are sharing each other’s breaths.

64. A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

65. Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.

66. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

67. Butterfly kisses against the other’s cheeks.

68. A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

69. A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.

70. One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

71. Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.

72. Teasing kisses where one person blows air into the other’s mouth and runs away.

73. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

74. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

75. A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company.

76. A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

77. A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.

78. Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer.

79. Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain.

80. Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear.

81. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

82. One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

83. Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

84. Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

85. Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

86. A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards.

87. An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

88. Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

89. An awkward kiss given after a first date.

90. Starting with bunny kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

91. Cleaning the other person’s lips with a lick and a kiss.

92. Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss.

93. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

94. A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.

95. Kisses shared under an umbrella.

96. Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

97. A kiss pressed to the top of the head.

98. Tentative kisses given in the dark.

99. Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.

100. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart.

101. A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged.

102. One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s.

103. Short and sweet kiss after meeting up for a date.

104. A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

105.

106. Little one jumping in puddles wearing rain boots.

107. Shopping for nursery furniture for little one.

108. Holding the little one for the first time.

109. Being immensely proud when little one takes their first steps alone.

110. Little one’s first reaction to seeing/feeling snow.

111. Singing nursery rhymes to get little one to sleep.

112. Finger painting with little one.

113. Little one getting food all over their face.

114. Going on a walk together with little one.

115. Little one coming to sleep with you after having a bad dream.

116. Picking out little one’s first Halloween costume.

117. Little one’s first birthday.

118. Keeping little one from trying to eat crayons.

119. Little one’s first trip to the zoo or aquarium.

120. Showing little one a lightning bug for the first time.

121. Little one sticking their toes in their mouth.

122. Little one pulling on your hair with surprising strength.

123. Helping little one go down a slide at the park.

124. Little one needing an emergency bath.

125. Tickling little one’s chubby thighs until they laugh.

126. Singing songs and rocking little one to sleep.

127. Reading a book with little one on your lap.

128. Having to show little one that the food tastes good by having some too.

129. Playing airplane/train to get little one to open their mouth and take a bite of food.

130. Little one chasing after bubbles to pop them.

131. Playing peek-a-boo with little one.

132. Little one snuggling with a stuffed animal.

133. Playing “This Little Piggy” on little one’s toes.

134. Having little one help mix cookie dough.

135. Little one eating a slice of fruit and getting juice all down their chin.

136. Kissing little one where they got hurt to make the pain go away.

137. Little one stripping their clothes and running around in their diaper.

138. Waking up to little one crying out in their sleep.

139. Little one biting everything they can stick in their mouth as they teethe.

140. Little one sticking pretzel sticks up their nose.

141. Little one leaving sticky fingerprints on everything they touch.

142. Having little one help flip pancakes.

143. Giving little one a raspberry on their tummy after changing their diaper.

144. Watching little one go in and out of the kiddie pool.

145. Little one pointing out colors and shapes that they recognize.

146. Having little one wear their first formal wear.

147. Little one drifting off to sleep with a smile on their face.

148. Little one settling down after you finally figure out what they need.

149. Choosing little one’s name together.

150. Watching little one attempt to blow the seeds off a dandelion.

151. Little one getting in a laughing kick where everything is funny.

152. The first time little one picks their own outfit.

153. Little one chasing down the pet to rest their head on them and hold them tight.

154. Being unable to stay mad at little one when they give you puppy dog eyes.

155. Little one playing dress up with a grown-up set of shoes.

156.

157. Holding their hands when they are shaking.

158. Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

159. Traveling long distances just to see them.

160. Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

161. Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

162. Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

163. Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

164. Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

165. Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

166. Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

167. Telling them a dumb joke just to see their smile.

168. Following their family traditions that they enjoy.

169. Playing your fingers through their hair while sitting next to them on the couch.

170. Singing and dancing to their favorite song.

171. Calming them down when they have a bad dream.

172. Having a tickle fight until you’re breathless.

173. Folding their clean laundry and putting it away.

174. Sharing a soft smile across a crowded room.

175. Bringing them a plate of their favorite sliced fruit.

176. Washing their back/hair in the shower.

177. Sharing your umbrella with them in the rain.

178. Listening to them while they vent.

179. Taking a picture together to print and hang later.

180. Tracing your names together in the sand.

181. Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

182. Doing a chore for them that you know they aren’t fond of.

183. Leaving a plate of food in the microwave for when they have a late shift.

184. Sharing a drink with them from the same straw.

185. Tucking their hair behind their ear to help them get it out of their face.

186. Helping scratch that itch on their back they can’t reach.

187. Pulling a chair out for them to sit down at the table.

188. Wrapping a blanket around them when they are sitting on the couch and watching a show.

189. Throwing away their piles of tissues when they have a cold.

190. Mending an item of their clothing that was ripped.

191. Running out in the middle of the night to get a food item they’re craving.

192. Helping brush their hair after a shower.

193. Making sure to be quiet while they’re taking a nap.

194. Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt.

195. Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favorite.

196. Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh.

197. Giving them space when they express wanting to have some time alone.

198. Holding their hand while walking, even if there isn’t a crowd.

199. Holding shopping bags that are too heavy for them.

200. Standing between them and a busy road.

201. Rubbing the back of their hand with a thumb.

202. Giving them a back massage when they flop on the couch or bed.

203. Staying up half the night to finish a game with them.

204. Getting them a coffee just the way they like it.

205. Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

206. Buying them a special treat when you go out shopping.

[fancysimpinghere]

Euphories pt.4 (Sykkuno x reader)

Well, hello everyone! I want to deeply apologize for such a long break in posting there. We all know how hard life can sometimes be. But I arrived with a finish of this story and I hope you will like it! Enjoy!

summary: all good things eventually come to the end and insecurities aren't helping. Adult life is hard, so are decisions. Even if mistakes happen, there would be something to do to fix your frienship. And who knows, maybe things would evolve into something deeper and more advanced than simple relation between friends?

It has been two months since your first encounter with this pretty boy. Luckily, your schedule wasn’t that busy in summer months, so you could visit Thomas in his grandfather’s shop at least twice a week. Your friendship was blossoming, you both surprisingly had a very good contact. When you visited the shop, Thomas usually was waiting for you with one of the magic cassettes, but sometimes he was just showing you around. Actually, you found yourself almost working with him, because you were helping him with unpacking new items, organizing things and cleaning. It was very fun for both of you - you could spend more time together and get to know each other. But you had your own job as well, and summer time was slowly ending. You knew that if you want to keep seeing Thomas, you have to bring your friendship to another level and start to meet up outside. Little did you know that he rarely left shop or house. These places were his comfort zone and You didn't want to push him to do something really demanding. You decided to give him some time to get accustomed to your presence in his life and let Sykkuno make this important step. All you could do then was wait and do your best to gain his trust even more than you had already. When holidays ended, you were sad, because that means less free time - and less time spent with Thomas. But you still came to his shop, even if you were tired or had to sacrifice your sleep time. Sometimes you helped his grandfather with some simple chores, made some cookies for them both or just kept him company - you knew that older people seek attention from others and you couldn't say no to him. But to be honest, it was difficult to bring together your new lifestyle with your old one. Of course you liked Sykkuno, and you felt about him a little different than an ordinary friend - you liked him more and this was also not easy. You were afraid that if he found out about your little secret, it would scare him away and you would lose him as a result. Day by day you were trying to shove your feelings away and focus on helping him, but every moment spent with Thomas started to feel like too much for you. You were worried if he noticed small changes in your behaviour, but he seemed fine. Because of that, you started to lose yourself in work - your amount of free time dropped almost to the bare minimum because of afterhours, and even if you had a free day, you were too tired to visit your friend.

On the other hand, Thomas was internally freaking out. In the end of holidays he started to catch feelings for you, but was too afraid to admit it even to himself. He enjoyed your company a little bit too much, and you started to look better than before in his eyes. But he was sure that you are too good to him and you deserve better than a shy boy with nothing to offer. So he was amazed that you still visited him after your work started and spent your precious time with him. He was absolutely affected by your kindness and willingness to help.

He knew that if he wants to keep you even as a friend, he has to do something. You were his only friend and after these months spent together, he couldn't imagine his life without you. So when you started to visit his shop less often, he felt hopeless. Sykkuno was sure that he bored you out of his life because of his strange addiction to video games and antisocial lifestyle. He didn’t know what to do. His low self-esteem was not helping him with putting his thoughts together. After the first two weeks without your visit to his home or shop, he was devastated. Nothing from his special collection of games and films could make him completely happy anymore, because his thoughts were occupied by you. But one day, when he was organizing his special cassettes, a movie caught his eye. When he read the title, an idea sprung to his mind and he was that desperate for your presence, he almost instantly made a decision.

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

You started to feel a bit nostalgic when you were looking through the window at falling snowflakes. It was the first snow of the year, so you were also a little bit excited. But when you were sitting in a small cafe in your town, a cup of hot chocolate in front of you, memories slowly creeping from the back of your head. Memories of sad past months, but also of warm and joyful summer. But the most important thought in your mind was the reason for your presence in the cafe. Your fingers unconsciously wandered on the screen of your phone to once again open a message from your friend Thomas. You had strong remorse for leaving him alone and don't contacting him in almost a month. You didn't know what to expect from today's meeting with him, but you were shocked that he invited you to a public place, where there could be a lot of people. Your line of thinking was cut, when small bells over the door frame rang and someone entered the cafe. You guessed it was your company for today - hood covered his head and his face was covered by black mask, but you were sure that this is your friend, whom you haven't seen for almost 2 long months. You noticed his lack of gloves - his hands were red from the cold temperature outside. He still got snowflakes on his massive hoodie, but they were melting away. Even if you felt a little bit awkward, you felt a strange warmth in your chest at the sight of him. You longed to hear his soft voice and laugh, and your heart squeezed just at the thought of it.

He paused for a while to look for you among other people present at the cafe and his gaze finally met yours. He shyly headed towards you and slowly pulled off his hood and mask, so you could recognize him as you haven't done it already. Even from a distance you could say that he was nervous, his hands were making some awkward movements and his eyes shifted from one person to another, like he was expecting somebody to attack him. Finally he was standing right in front of your table and you felt terribly for leaving him with poor excuses about work. He looked bad, just as you - sleepless nights put their marks on your face and you recognized them on his face too. Before he could say anything, you stood up immediately, and reduced the distance between you two. You looked him deep in the eye and hugged him carefully to not scare him. You didn’t care about other people, because you especially chose a more private area of the cafe, in the corner and a massive part of it was covered by plants. You felt Thomas tensing up after you embraced him, but after a few seconds he relaxed and hugged you back.

- "I'm so sorry, Sykkuno." - whisper left your mouth before you could think about forming a more developed sentence, but these words were only one in your mind right now. - "I missed you so much."

At these words he hugged you tighter and you could swear that he smiled like he always did when he was embarrassed.

- "I missed you too." - he whispered back, straight to your ear. You felt butterflies waking up in your stomach at his closeness and blushed a little.

- "It’s nice to- nice to see you, hm." - he stuttered a little and moved his arms away from you, so you did the same. You both sat down and you looked at his face again. Small blush creeped his cheeks, but it could be from the temperature change. - "I was afraid that you wouldn't have time for… For me."

He looked at you like a lost puppy and you felt awful. But before you could say something, he gave you a very warm and wide smile.

-"But you had and I'm happy about it." - he said and started to look for something in his pockets. - "I know that you are a very hard working person and I wanted to thank you for helping me and my grandfather despite this." - it was the longest sentence you ever heard from him, so you were a little bit speechless, but he looked like he wanted to say something more. However, you felt guilty and you had to apologize to him properly.

- "Thomas, I’m sorry. "- you interrupted before he could continue. - "I'm sorry for non contacting you in days and I know it was wrong. I… I can explain why I did this."

- "You don't have to. "- He answered and his search finished with success, because he placed down something rectangular on the table. - "I asked you for a meeting, because I realized something during the past months. And I can't keep this a secret any more."

He was looking even more nervous now. He hid his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie, because they were trembling a little. You also noticed that his face is clearly and non deniable red almost like a tomato, and he was a little bit hesitant when speaking. You decided to not interrupt him this time, and you also felt nervous. He looked at the window to search for the right words or find the courage, you assumed. But then he suddenly returned his gaze to you.

- "What is it, Thomas?" - you asked softly to encourage him to share his thoughts with you. You decided to use his real name to show you are taking him seriously. Deep in your heart you felt a little spark of hope, but you didn't want to make expectations and then be dissapointed. You watched his movements carefully, your eyes dropping to the item lying before him, and you finally recognized the thing. It was a cassette thanks to which you could know him. Your mouth opened in surprise and when he noticed that, he smiled coyly, but stress was still recognizable on his face.

- "I wanted to tell you for a long time, but… I… I couldn’t find the courage. But now, I decided that I have to do this." - words left his mouth faster than usual, and his eyes nervously watched your reaction. He sighed and blinked a few times. -" You are my best friend, my only friend, but I realized I like you a lot more than that."

You were completely speechless. You didn't even imagine this scenario - it was too perfect to be real, but there you are. Your mind exploded with a sudden wave of joy and happiness, because the dearest person you know just admitted to liking you back. You smiled sincerely to him and he had to notice a spark of joy in your gaze, because he stopped talking and just watched you with his big eyes.

- "Thomas, I like you too. "- you said in answer, honestly looking into his eyes. -" I didn’t know how to tell you, so I distanced myself fro you, because I didn’t want to scare you or… "- you didn’t finish and all of sudden felt embarrassed for your lack of initiative.

- "I thought it would be nice to talk about it in the place where our friendship started. "- he said slowly and carefully moved the cassette on the table towards you. He looked down for a second, then returned your gaze. He looked more determined than before and smiled at you once again. You could look at his smile forever - there was nothing more cuter than his expressions.

- "So…Would you like to accompany me on this journey?" - he asked softly and pulled out his hand to you from the sleeve. He watched your reaction carefully.

- "Yes, I definitely would." - You giggled and blushed a little, but gently grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers with his.

He tightened his grip on your hand and you both touched the cassette with your other hands. The world started to spin, and even when you started falling down, all you could feel in this moment was falling in love with this cute, lovely boy, soon to be your boyfriend, who held your hand like his life depended on it and laughed at the strange sensation. You couldn't help and joined him, looking forward to experiencing the best adventure - and you were certain that it would be the best, because you had the greatest companion in the whole world.

~fin~

[roger-that-cap]

jack pendleton

summary: moving into an apartment to get away from your last relationship was fun all fun and games until you met your extremely attractive across-the-hall neighbor, who makes awesome cookies and even better novels.

author!bucky x reader

warnings: no legitimate warnings besides swearing, it kind of moves just a weensie bit fast but i think it’s cute, minimal angst, I WROTE THIS IN ONE DAY and that is a warning tbh so expect mistakes in this hunk a junk-

word count: 6.2k!

Searching for your new apartment was a terribly long and boring process, but even you couldn’t deny that finally moving in was heavenly. 

It was the first thing that you did by yourself after having a mutual break up with your boyfriend, and you would be damned if it felt anything but good. He confessed to you that he had fallen in love with a man that he met online. Not only that, but an Italian man that he was teaching English to over a website. He was brave enough to tell you as soon as he realized that he loved the man, so the heartbreak was minimal. 

You never told him, but honestly, you sort of respected him for that. So, with your hidden respect and gratitude, you wished him well and knew that you were going to be the one to find a new place. 

 So there you stood, right in front of your new place with a singular box in your arms, all the others in the smallest U-Haul available to rent that you drove there. You stared at your door for a moment, which read an embroidered C7, and then you fiddled with your keys to unlock it.  

  You had a lot of work to do. 

§§§

By the end of the fourth day, mostly all of your things were put away. You didn’t think you had much to begin with, but unpacking made you realize that you had more than you thought. So with your ambitious mind, you got everything done on your own, even the decorations that you had at your last appointment were on the walls. 

 By the seventh day, it was starting to feel like home again. And that called for a celebration. You got your purse and your car keys, your mind already in the shopping mall. 

  As you stepped out of your door, the door directly across from yours opened too. You didn’t pay them much mind besides flashing a smile and turning around to lock your own door, not even looking at whoever it was properly enough to see them. But when you did, you definitely did. 

 A man with long, brown hair and clear blue eyes was staring at you like a deer in the headlights, and you would have thought that he mistook you for a celebrity if it weren’t for the wrinkle of confusion on his forehead. The first thought that came to your mind was that he was as stiff as a board, and that it was almost comical. The second thought that came to your mind was that this man was very handsome, despite the way that he was looking at you like you had just said the dumbest thing known to man. 

 “Um, hello,” you said, not even having to be loud because you were just a few feet apart. You were tempted to be a smartass and say something rude about his incessant staring, but instead, you reminded yourself that you were going to have to deal with the consequences of your smart remark later on. Humiliation and awkwardness every time you saw him was not what you wanted. “Have a good day.” 

  You turned to your left and walked down the stairs, thankful that you lived on the edge of the hall and could just run down some steps to get away from whatever that “encounter” was. 

§§§

The mall was utterly packed, but that didn’t matter to you at all. You were there to browse for something that was going to make you even happier after your move, and a few people in line weren’t going to bother you. You went in and out of clothing stores, buying a few things here and there, and then on your way out, you passed by a bookstore. 

  You liked books, you really did. But you were avoiding that store like the plague. For you to go into a bookstore with so many options available, you knew that the safest route for your budget was to know what you were getting from the second you walked in. You stood in front of it for a second, debating on going in without looking online beforehand or just coming back another day. Your own feet answered the question for you, and then you were entering the huge book store.

 The shelves were high and wide and sturdy, dark brown and creating isles. Fantasy, Young Adult, Spiritual, Languages. The genres went as far as you could see. And that meant that if you weren’t wise, you could be buying a book from every aisle.

  You counted the number of shelves, seeing that there were almost thirty as far as you knew, and then took out the two dice that you took with you everywhere, for reasons like this. You were indecisive, and two little cubes with black dots on them were as sure as it could get. They were your Decision Dice. They had never steered you wrong before, and today wouldn’t be the day. You were going to roll twice, and if the sum was a number less than ten, then you would multiply it by two, which was your lucky number.  You liked to make things difficult. 

You saw a woman staring at you with cautious eyes as you bent down and shook your closed hand, and you heard her chuckle when she saw the two little cubes roll out of your palm. 

  “Four,” you murmured once you saw three dots on one and one on the other. You picked them up and shook your hand again. “Three. That makes seven, and seven times two makes aisle fourteen.” You picked up the dice (that you would never admit came from your grandpa’s set of Yahtzee) and walked past the still laughing woman in the science fiction aisle.  

  Of course, aisle fourteen was the aisle that you probably had the least business in. Romance. You almost walked away and went for the fifteenth instead, but then what would the point in rolling be? What would stop you from denying the Decision Dice in later situations? You sighed for a second after your own dramatics and looked the shelves up and down, trying to find a title that grabbed you. 

 You walked up and down the aisle, slowly combing through until you saw a book on the bottom shelf by some Jack Pendleton. You frowned. It wasn’t often that you saw men’s names in the romance section, and when you did, you hardly liked what they wrote. The love interest was always flat or too out there to be believable. The female love interest in men’s books always had to be “not like other girls”, and it was worn out. For some reason, you reached down for it anyway, ready to see what you had already seen a million times before. 

  What you really ended up seeing shocked you. 

It was about a man who served in the army oversees and came back an amputee, and became locked in a love triangle between his physical therapist and his best friend, all the while dealing with his sexuality. 

  That was a lot of man versus self. You wanted it. 

You stood up and without second thought walked to the counter, handing the cashier the book and getting out your credit card. 

§§§

You cracked open the book the second you threw your fast food trash away in your trash can. You made yourself comfortable on your little couch and put some light music on in the background, just so that it wouldn’t be completely silent. You didn’t do well with silence at all. 

 It took all of four pages for Jack Pendleton to surprise you again. His writing style was gorgeous and smooth, and you cold tell that he meant every word that was printed on the pages. His diction was brilliant, his descriptions even better. He didn’t give too much or too little, and you were already falling in love with it. 

  The main character, Elijah, was likeable but flawed. Within the first thirty pages, you could already sense that he was gaining feelings that he didn’t even know about for his best friend, Will, who wasn’t named until about forty pages at Elijah’ first physical therapy appointment. Will hadn’t even shown up yet. 

You had blown through nearly half the book when you realized that it was eleven at night, and that you had work the next morning. You swore to yourself and put a smaller piece of paper in your book this time, looking at it longingly and patting it on the spine before leaving it on the small coffee table. 

§§§

Work was horrible. It was boring, and you spent the whole first part of your day with a man who was mad at you specifically because you ran out of a special type of shoe that he needed to wear the next day. The store that you worked at wasn’t even really a shoe store. Then, he asked to see the manager. You were the shift manager. He got so pissed that he threw a hanger at you and stormed out, and all you could do was laugh. 

 You were so tired of retail, it wasn’t even funny. 

 You were a little more than a hundred and twenty pages in when there was a knock on your door, and it came right as you were about t flip the page. You resisted the urge to scream, completely and utterly fed up with the public for the day. There was no use in trying to ignore the knocking that already yanked your mind out of the fictional world, and so you left the book on your couch, sticking a piece of paper in it quickly to save your page. 

You swung the door open, expecting to find someone who wanted you to fill out a survey or maybe even someone from maintenance making sure that everything was okay with your apartment. You certainly didn’t expect to see your beautiful neighbor with a pie in his gloved hands and a pink flush on his face. 

  He spoke first. “Hi, I live across the floor,” he pointed towards the door that you knew he lived behind. “I was just coming to bring you a welcoming gift.”  

  You were stunned. The man who stared you down and didn’t even say a word to you was at your door with what looked like a homemade pie, and wow, was that a turn of events. It was something straight out of that cheesy romance section that you were in at the bookstore. “Wow, thank you. You made that?”

  The pink on his cheeks graduated to scarlet. “I-yeah, I did.” 

You couldn’t contain the grin that stretched onto your face. “That’s really kind of you, thank you. I’m sure I’ll love it.” You gently took it from his hands and smiled up at him. 

  “It’s also an apology, for staring at you like that when you were leaving.” You noticed his subtle accent and fought the urge to swoon. He was so adorably shy. “No one’s lived in this one for years, and I didn’t notice you moving in. Kinda scared me.” 

 “You didn’t see the moving truck?” You asked teasingly.

You saw the small grimace on his face, and your smile faltered. “I don’t really go outside much,” he said vaguely, and you felt that you hit a nerve. 

  You shrugged with the pie still in your hands, lips turning upwards at him. “It’s okay, I don’t, either.” 

  You were both smiling now. 

“Well, um,” he started to say, and you nodded your head at him, already knowing that he was about to go. “I have to finish something. I’ll see you later?” 

 “There’s a pretty good chance that you will,” you said, and he gave an awkward wave before turning around and walking away, right into his apartment without another look back. You cursed softly when he shut his door, and you looked down at the pie. 

You didn’t even get his name.

§§§

You realized after five days of nothing (and cleaning out the pan of delicious pie by yourself) that you weren’t going to see your neighbor by chance. You hoped that you would, more than you hoped for anything else before. But he was right. He didn’t go outside much. The doors in the building were all so loud that it was nearly impossible not to hear them opening or shutting, and you never heard his once. 

You had to do it yourself. Somehow, you needed to figure out how to see him again without it being incredibly weird, but you had a plan. In your eyes, it was pretty foolproof. Your mom’s chicken parmesan could never go wrong, and everyone liked to eat. You went to the grocery store without even having to roll the Decision Dice and got started on it the second you got home.

***

When it was done, there was a thin line of sweat on your forehead. You put a note to yourself in your head that the kitchen got insanely hot when you cooked, and you vowed to remember it next time. You took off your fancy apron and the chef’s hat that you wore for fun when you cooked and set it on the countertop. Now, the hard part came.

How were you supposed to get brave enough to bring a plate over to his place? Were you supposed to hope that he hadn’t eaten yet? Or, were you supposed to let him in to eat? Shit, that sounded too much like a date.

With all those thoughts in mind, you walked up to his door, C6, and knocked on it. You realized last minute that you forgot the plate on the table, so dinner was over at your apartment by default unless you did an awkward dash across the hall. The sound of boots coming towards the door were loud and clear, and then the door opened, barely giving you enough time to swallow your anxieties. You got a panging irrational fear that he wouldn’t remember you, but were relieved when he smiled down at you.

“Hi,” you said, sounding more like a telemarketer than a neighbor. “I made chicken parmesan.” It was silent for a few seconds as you both tried to make sense of what was happening, and you kicked yourself on the inside. “I made a plate for you because um, I wanted to thank you for the pie. It was really good.”

His face lit up, and it was like you were given a new burst of life and hope simultaneously. “Oh, thank you! That’s really sweet, thank you,” he repeated, his words getting slightly jumbled up the more and more he spoke. He was so cute. 

You realized that the both of you were just staring at each other, standing with smiles that were increasingly leaning towards more than polite by the second. “I can, uh, bring it to your door if you want.”

“I can come over, if that makes it easier.” Both sentences were spoken at the same time, and it caused you both to apologize once again at the same time. “No, no, I’ll come back with you,” he said when you two finally spoke your own sentences. 

You tilted your head. You were sure that he was shy, you could have bet money on him wanting to eat alone. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he gave you a small smile and stepped out of his apartment, and suddenly, you were aware of how he smelled like a bakery. Flower, sugar, apples, cinnamon, the whole nine. Your eyes widened when you smelled more of it when he shut his door. It smelled amazing. You didn’t want to be greedy, but whatever he had in there, you wanted a slice. 

   Your apartment smelled good, but in the opposite way. It smelled like sauce and spices and chicken, like a good kitchen. You almost laughed when you saw his eyes widen after he caught a whiff. His eyes scanned the table that was already set up for one, and he saw all the food in the middle and only grew more surprised. 

 “You did all of this yourself?” 

You didn’t think it was a big deal. You knew how to plate food and you knew how to cook it fine, but it wasn’t too special, in your opinion. It was second nature because of your mother, but you could always go for a nice compliment. “Yeah, I have fun cooking.”

  “It looks amazing,” he said softly, and you smiled at him. 

“Let’s hope it tastes as good.” 

It felt oddly domestic. You got his plate for him and watched him make his first because he was the guest, and you warned him about touching the hot pan, even though he didn’t seem worried about it with his gloves on. You asked him if he wanted wine, water, or soda, and he got his own glass of water after saying that he felt bad making you do it. By the time you sat down and started twirling your fork in your spaghetti, you were starving. 

 You heard him take his first bite more than you saw him do it. “Holy-” he put his hand in front of his mouth. “You made this here?” 

You laughed. “Mhm.” 

“Are you a chef, or something?”

You were flattered. “No, but my mother is,” and man, was she a cook. She could cook anything and make it taste good if you gave her a flame. Always, she had pressured you into knowing how to make a meal, because making a meal meant providing for yourself and everyone else in your family. You watched him cut into a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth, smiling when he gave you the “food look”. “She taught me everything I know.” 

“Well, I’m about to call her and thank her,” he joked, and you giggled, twirling your own fork and getting some spaghetti in your mouth. You tilted your head. It was pretty good. 

  “And what about you? You can bake,” and there he was, all shy again, and you loved it. “Where did you learn?” 

“My father’s a baker,” he said, and a slow smile spread across your face. 

“Well, would you look at that,” you said, nodding your head in thought. He smiled back. 

 “Would you look at that.” 

For a second, just like the two of you had done many times before, you were stuck in a world where there wasn’t anything else, not even the food. It was just his smile and yours, and the fact that somehow both of you knew that the moment was genuine. 

  “I’m so sorry, what’s your name?” He blurted, and you frowned. 

“My name?” A flame of embarrassment and shame shot through you. You were fawning over a man that you didn’t even know the name of yet. You sister would be disgusted with you. “Oh, have we really not said our names yet?” 

 “I guess not...” he said, voice trailing off at the end. 

“Well, good thing names aren’t that important.” 

He gave you an intrigued look. “Names aren’t important?”

“They can be, but sometimes they don’t mean a thing. You can learn so much about someone before learning their name, and when you do, nothing changes what you already know. I cook and I like spending money in book stores, and you bake and stay inside. That doesn’t change after we learn names.” 

 He looked like he had just reached cloud nine. “You like books?”

“Of course I do,” you said, and your eyes trailed over to the book that was sitting on your couch. “I actually took that little name bit from what I learned from a book, so I won’t take credit for that.” 

  “What book was so in depth and interested with names?”

“I don’t even think that the main focus was the name, I think it was the opposite. His name didn’t matter because all that mattered were the emotions that came with him.” You took a second to think. “And I also think that saying his name made it real for the main character, so the dude’s name didn’t come up until he was in mid conversation.” 

  At first, you were worried that you lost him. But you hadn’t. “He was in love with this person?” 

“Madly. But he was his best friend.” You were so excited. You were really talking to a man who liked to read? And one who liked to analyze what he read? This must have been heaven. “For a while, all we hear about is how amazing the person is that he fell in love with and about how he struggled with loving him because he was a man. We knew everything about him before his name was even said and before he was even present, and that’s probably what I like most so far about the book.” 

   Through your rambling, you failed to notice that he was looking more and more panicked. “Um, what’s the book called?” 

   “Here, I’ll just go get it,” you said, standing up and walking over to your couch, pulling it off and walking over to him. You set the book down, and watched his eyes grow so wide that he looked cartoonish. “Have you read it?” 

  He blinked at the cover. “Y-yeah, I’ve read it.” He looked at his watch, swore so emptily that you swore it was acting, and then gave you an apologetic look. “Um, I have to go. I’m sorry.”

  So, you did scare him off. You hid your frown with a polite smile, and tried to remind yourself that even though it felt like one, it wasn’t a date. It was you paying him back for making you something in his own kitchen. “Oh, alright. I hope you liked it.” 

 Maybe he heard something in your voice that you didn’t, because he stopped frantically putting his jacket on to look you in the eyes. “It was amazing, I mean that. And it was very sweet, thank you.”

  This is crashing and burning. What the hell happened? It was going so well! “Well, I’ll see you later,” you called out, and you watched him wash his own plate with a shocked look on your face. “Thanks,” you whispered, and he nodded at you, a tight smile on his face as he wrapped a gloved hand around the doorknob and left. 

***

Maybe you hadn’t scared him away, after all. 

You had full intentions of leaving him alone until he came to you, if it was ever even going to happen. You only left for work and debated on finding something simple to bake for him to extend another olive branch, but then you decided that you would let the universe control what happened, if anything was even meant to happen in the first place. There was a knock on your door, and there he was, with a pan of cupcakes that had blue icing perfectly swirled on top. 

  Alright, so you hadn’t. 

He gave you the cutest smile, and you couldn’t help but to give one back. “Hi, I’m Bucky.” You gave him your name, too. 

From then on, you two were practically attached at the hip. If you weren’t at work, he was over with you, watching a movie and talking about foreshadowing or how good the book version would have been if it came first. He was also one of the only people you knew who had actually read Tarzan, and you got a kick out of it. You got so close that you even met his little quartet of friends, Steve, Natasha, and Sam, who all liked you after the first meeting. You fit in with them like a glove. 

 Speaking of... “Why do you wear gloves?” You had asked him one day, and he stiffened up like a board. 

“I get cold easily on my hands,” he explained coolly, and you let it go. 

There were little things about him that you questioned every time after he went back home. You questioned how he never left his apartment but made enough money to keep it. You asked yourself how he was so busy in there, and what exactly he did. You wondered why he got so funny when you mentioned the book, and how nervous he was to talk about it when you finally finished it. All of those things slightly worried you, but they had nothing on the one, huge thought that loomed over all the others. 

 You were falling hard and fast for Bucky Barnes. A part of you could admit that you were already on the ground. 

  If started off slowly. You admired his mind and his smile and the way that his eyes shined when he taught you how to bake a perfect cake without all the fancy, expensive supplies. You loved the way that his cheeks glowed when you complimented him or touched his hair or his nose. You loved that he started calling you “darling” and the way that his Brooklyn accent left out the last letter. You loved the way that things with him already felt so natural, like you cooking dinner and him helping you wash and dry dishes after. You were in for the long haul before you could even reach for the door handle of the speeding car, and you didn’t really want to. 

   There was a knock on your door out of courtesy, and you called out for him to let himself in. You were way past knocking, but he was polite. You were tapping away at the keys on your laptop, humming to yourself as you looked into Jack Pendleton. 

  “Watcha doin’, darlin’?” He set down the items you two needed for homemade lasagna and his father’s recipe for some simple pumpkin bread on the counter. 

“I’m trying to find more books by Jack Pendleton,” you muttered, sighing when nothing else came up. “I can’t find anything.”

 “Why do you like that book so much, anyway?” You were far too into your laptop to hear the tremor in his voice. 

 “Because it was raw, and real, and it hurt my feelings.” 

Oh, and it had. Bucky witnessed the result of you finishing the book first hand. He walked in right as you got the first sob out and looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, but he came to you anyway. How were you supposed to know that the therapist, an equally important person in the main character’s life, was going to pass away not even days after he and Will got their happiness? 

  You remembered how he held you the whole time, and that for some reason, he whispered a very heartfelt, “I’m sorry.” 

  “If it hurt you so much, why would you want to read something by him again?” 

“It was brilliant, that’s why, cowboy.” You said, looking up and pointing at him with your fancy little stylus. He broke out into a smile at the name, like he always did. You called him that one time because you caught him watching The Longest Ride, and it stuck. 

  There was a stretched, tense moment as the sound of your typing filled the room. “I don’t think he has anything else out right now, darlin’.” 

“And how would you know, rancher?” 

He gave you that same deer in headlights stare that he gave you when he first saw you in the hall, only less confused. Then he sighed. “What’s in a name, anyway?” 

 You rolled your eyes, but you both knew that you were on the edge of laughing. You could never be serious with him. He was just so full of light. “You’re not going to get me quoting Shakespeare right now, I just asked you a dire question.” 

 He inhaled deeply, his face already boasting a rich scarlet. “How would you feel if I told you that I wrote that book?”

  Your world crumbled beneath your feet. You knew he wasn’t lying, because you knew that he had no reason to lie. His aversion to talking about Jack Pendleton and everything surrounding it made you believe what he told you right as you heard it. You gasped, and then saw him grimace. “Bucky, Jack stole your work?” 

  His face fell. “What?”

“Have you taken legal action yet?” 

  “No,” he said slowly, and then he took in another deep breath, preparing from something. “I don’t need to, because I am Jack.” He said slowly, a small and guarded smile resting on his face. You noticed that he looked the least comfortable you had ever seen him. “It’s a pen name.” 

  Different kinds of humiliation were coming in large, mean waves, and you bit your lip to prevent from talking. You had really gushed over a book right in front of the author the whole time? It was so horrible and embarrassing that you couldn’t even stop thinking about it. You felt like an idiot. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop talking?” 

There was a quick, hesitant intake of breath between the both of you. “Because I don’t want anyone that I know in real life to know about that.” 

You froze. There was no way that he was implying that what was in the book actually happened, right? 

 He took off both of his gloves, and beneath one of them was a silver appendage, very clearly a prosthetic. He was breathing heavily, like he had just lifted a weight off of his chest that was double his own size. You looked at it with a wild expression of your own, trying to make sense of what was happening. 

 “Almost everything in that book really happened.” You closed your mouth. “Some things are exaggerated, but nearly everything happened. Elijah is based off of me.” 

  Oh, fuck. That meant that he was actually bisexual, that he actually fell in love with his best friend, that he actually got his arm amputated after getting a grenade launched at him. His therapist actually died. You had no idea what to say. “I’m so sorry.” 

 “The main thing that didn’t really happen was the semi-happy ending for Elijah and Will. He and I broke up years ago. This all happened years ago.” Your heart broke again for him. “I put it under a fake name because it’s something very personal to me, but I felt like it should have been shared. Thought that it would maybe help some other kid who was going through it.” 

You knew exactly what it was. You had gone through it yourself. If you had read the book when you were much younger, you were sure that you would have been able to find some sort of peace in the turmoil that you caused yourself. Now, you were much better, and you loved the fact that you were part of the LGBT community, but that didn’t mean that the book didn’t mean something to you. 

The book was so raw that you should have known that it was real. There wasn’t a word that didn’t mean something, not a sentence that wasn’t thought out. It was such heavy material with realistic ups and down that you caught yourself relating with Elijah, not knowing that the real “Elijah” was right in front of you the whole time.

“But, um, I write science fiction under my real name, though.” You were too busy thinking about how you gushed about someone’s actual life story, and how that someone just so happened to be your super cute neighbor that you fell in love with. You gushed about his terribly sad life story right in front of him. “That’s why I’m always inside. I’m a hermit writer.” 

You didn’t even get into the science fiction aspect of the conversation. “I would have never read it in front of you or talked about it in front of you if I knew that, I swear.” 

“I know.” He slowly took his jacket off, and then you were seeing his arms in all their glory. It truly was a beautiful prosthetic, and from how much he used his hands, you knew that it was reliable and practical. “I just needed to tell you that.” 

You could sense his unease, and it made you feel wrong. It felt like you were taking steps back. “If this is about you being bisexual, I don’t care about that. That would never bother me.” 

 For the first time since his confession, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “I know. And I know you are, too.”

“Really?”

“I’ve seen the bookshelf in your room. No straight person reads that many books written by and for the community. And you cuff some of your jeans.” You shrugged, a small smirk on your face. He got you there. “I need to tell you something else.” 

You didn’t know if you were ready for it, but if he was, then there was no way that you were going to stop him. “Of course, go ahead.” 

“First, I should start off with telling you again that all of that,” he pointed towards her computer, “was about eleven years ago. I’m not healing, not recovering, none of that. Yeah, I’m sad about my therapist every once in a while, but I don’t feel anything for the man that Will is based off of anymore. That’s all gone.”

You swore at yourself for feeling butterflies of hope. You squashed them all down and made yourself pay full attention to Bucky, even though your mind was starting to have stupid little fantasies about picnic and stargazing with him. This is what you got for reading romance novels. “Okay, Buck.”

“I’m telling you all of this because I’m pretty sure that I’m in love with you.” Your mouth hung open, and before you could even get a word out, he was all over it again. “I have been for a while now, and I think now is the best time to tell you.” There was a pause for you to cut in, but you couldn’t form a word. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way or if you’re weirded out by my story-” 

“I love you too.” You blurted, watching his face become shocked. “I’ve been dying to tell you that, you know?” 

He sputtered, trying his hardest to form a coherent sentence. “Now I know.” 

You felt a smile slide onto your face as both of your racing hearts stilled to a normal, content rate. In that moment, you swore that if someone came and checked, that your heartbeats were alternating, taking energy from each other to make one long beat. You just, clicked.

“It- none of that bothers you at all?”

“If anything, I feel bad. I feel like I intruded.”

He scoffed. “You didn’t intrude, Y/N, I’m the one who published it.”

“I’m going to hug you now,” you warned, and then you two met each other half way. Your face was in his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. You smiled when you felt him gently brush your forehead with his lips, and all felt right.

You stood there together for what felt like forever but two seconds all the same, swaying a bit subconsciously. “Are you- are you sure about being okay with all of this? I know it’s a lot. And I just kind of sprung it on you.”

There he was. The shy Bucky. You knew that he could be insecure, and you knew that he was insecure about being that way. But luckily, you felt for him so much that you could assure him for the rest of both of your days with no complaints. If it took a thousand times a day for Bucky Barnes to know that you loved him and Jack Pendleton and Elijah Harris, you would do it two thousand times.

 “Out of all the books in the store, I unknowingly chose yours.” Your voice was shaky, but you meant every word you said and were about to say. “And out of all the people in the world, I intentionally, without doubt choose you.” 

***

If someone had asked you three years ago where you thought you were going to be in life in the same amount of time, you would have told them that you were probably still going to be working in retail. That wasn’t the case at all.

  Your mother gave you a loan when Bucky persuaded you to take your talent and passion for cooking and turn it into a business. You had a medium sized restaurant that you let your mother in on, and you cooked side by side often times. It felt just like it did when you were back in the kitchen of your childhood home, but now you were getting paid for it, quite a bit. 

  Across the street from your restaurant was a bookstore that held a number of books that were written by Bucky yourself, but your favorite by far was the cook book that was technically a baking book, full of all of the recipes that he felt like giving away. 

  You didn’t expect any of that to happen within three years, at all. But what you hoped to happen most of all did, and it was proven by the simple diamond on your finger that Bucky had given you. You wanted him to think that you were surprised when he popped the question, but you weren’t. 

  After all, you could see the outline of the box that he carried for three weeks straight. 

[pascalscenarios]

HOW TO LOVE (Marcus Pike x Reader)

HOW TO LOVE

Marcus Pike x Reader  

Summary: After a year being broken up with your ex, you move into a studio appartment just outside of Washington D.C. for a fresh start. You best friend gets your a job at the prestigious art museum he runs, and you have an encounter with someone you recognize.

Warning: None

Words: 3471

Author's Note: Surprise!!! AHH first chapter for How To Love! I’m excited for this one! I hope you guys in enjoy it! Let me know if you want to be on the tag list for this or the on main! Also if you asked and I didn’t put you in, I’m sorry, please remind me!

- K 

Chapter 1

“Alright, this was the last one in the truck,” Your father says as he sets the container on the ground next to the others. Your father had helped you pack up and move your belongings from your hometown in Virginia to an apartment complex that was just outside of Washington D.C.  

“Thanks, Dad.” You were grateful for his help.

“Do you want me to stay and help you unpack?” He was looking at the large boxes and containers piled on top of each other in the middle of your small studio apartment.

“No, that’s okay. I got it.” You smile slightly.

“You gonna be alright?” He says stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

You sigh, “I think so…” you turn your head to look around your small apartment. “I’m a little nervous, but I needed to do this...you know, move away from town and start fresh.”

“I know you do. If you ever need anything, your mother and I are a call away and a 45-minute drive.” He reassures you.

“Thank you, Dad. I love you.” You walk towards him, hugging him.

Your father wraps his arms around you, planting a kiss on your head. “I love you too. Call me if you need anything, yeah” He says, pulling away from you. You nod at him.

You both walk over to your front door. He opens it, stepping outside.

“Bye, Dad! Drive safe!” You call out as he walks down the steps and onto the walkway. You stand by the second-floor railing, looking down as he walks to his truck. He turns his body, looking up at you, giving you a wave. You watch him get into his truck, he honks, signaling a goodbye as he drives out of the parking lot.

You go back into your apartment shutting the door. You lean back against it, taking everything in. It was your first time truly living alone. You had spent years living with your ex in your hometown. He treated you terribly. You were constantly on-again, off-again with him. He had cheated on you a few times. You tried your hardest to make things work with him.

One day he decided that he was done with you, breaking things off and kicking you out of your shared apartment. You being a grown adult had to move back in with your parents. You spent a year in a tough place mentally, you decided you needed to get out of town and move somewhere else, have a fresh start, a clean slate. You needed more than what your hometown gave you.

Your best friend Elliot lived in D.C. working as a museum director at a prestigious art museum. He had offered you a job at the museum and even helped set you up with an apartment. You were nervous being on your own, but you knew you needed this time to grow as an individual.

You pushed yourself off the door, walking further into the open space. You stand there staring at all the boxes and containers. Your apartment was small. Only livable for two people, but it was perfect, and it was yours.

“Alright, let’s get to it.”

You had spent several hours getting things unpacked and organizing. You had managed to build your bed frame and set up your bed near the long and large windows. You placed your clothes into the narrow closet, set up your toiletries in the bathroom, and put kitchen appliances away. You needed to stock up your cabinets and fridge with food, so you decided to head to the grocery store.

You headed to the store in your pj’s. After your dad left, you had changed into something comfortable. You wore a worn-out Star Wars t-shirt, sweatpants, and your pink bunny slippers. You didn’t care if you rolled up to the grocery store like this. No one knew you and you knew one.

As you enter the grocery store and grab a shopping cart, your phone rings. You set your bag in the child seat, pulling out your phone. You looked at the caller ID, it was Elliot. You pick up the call, placing your phone against your ear, your other hand grabbing a hold of the cart’s handle.

“Hello?” you said, as you maneuver your cart around and in through the aisle.

“Hey! How’s it going? Do you make it to your apartment okay?” Elliot greets you.

“Hi, El…” you smile, “Yeah I did. My dad helped me out. We piled all my crap in the back of his truck. He drove it down, while I drove my car with the rest of my crap in it. I’m grocery shopping right now. The apartment is great by the way! Thank you for everything. Helping me get this apartment and setting me up with a job. I appreciate it. I can’t thank you enough” you say, picking up several Cup Noodles, tossing them into the cart.

“Of course! Don’t worry about it. That piece of shit put you through so much, you deserve to start fresh and to thrive! Maybe in D.C., you’ll find yourself a new guy…”

You scrunch up your face at what he said “Ehhh I don’t know about that…'' You traveled down the aisle picking up different snacks, foods, and drinks off the shelf.

He tries to encourage you, “You’ve been single for a while now. You should try to put yourself out there, meet some people.”

“I don’t know… I just don’t think I’m ready yet. He messed me up pretty bad, Elliot. I’m scared to get back into dating, you know?” you say sadly.

“And you have every right to feel that way, but not everyone is going to be like him. You’ll find the right person for you. It doesn’t hurt to try, but wherever you’re ready, I say go for it. Who knows, maybe you’ll run into someone in the grocery store.”

“Haha very funny, '' you say sarcastically, but you could help but laugh.

“Alright, I gotta run. I just wanted to check up on you. I’ll let you get back into shopping, but just a reminder, you to start work Monday, bright and early at 7:00 AM sharp.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then, love you.”

“I love you too! Bye!”

“Bye” you pull the phone away from your face, hanging up, and placing it back in your bag. You continued to shop. The majority of your cart was filled with your comfort junk foods, a few fruits and vegetables, and canned foods.

You knew the change of living in a new area and apartment was going to be different and a bit of getting used to. You wanted to have your favorite things to bring you some sense of joy and ease...and alcohol. Yes, you need to get a bottle.

You were turning the corner into an aisle with the alcohol when your cart collided with another person's cart that was leaving the aisle.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!” You gasp at the man in surprise. He was a little bit taller than you. He wore a plain t-shirt, jeans, and shoes. Short brown hair, brown eyes, and he rocked a mustache and beard. You couldn’t lie, the man was handsome.

“It’s alright! I should be apologizing too, I bumped into you as well!” he chuckled. His eyes took notice of your outfit of choice.

Suddenly you felt shy and self-conscious about our outfit. You began to feel insecure that he was somewhat checking you out. I mean you wore PJs to the store, of course, you knew some people would stare and secretly judge you.

His gaze landed at your feet. He cocked his head to the side and smiled “Nice bunny slippers.”

“T-thanks..” you stuttered.

He must have noticed you were growing uncomfortable because he tried to lighten the mood. “I really should get myself a pair, they look comfy…I could see myself rocking some bunny kicks,” he joked.

You nod your head “Well make sure to wear them at home and not at the grocery store... along with your pj’s.. make sure you wear those at home as well because then you’ll end up going to the grocery store looking like a fool...” you mentally cringed. You didn’t mean to say your thoughts out loud. You were making this interaction more awkward than it needs to be. You just wanted to get your bottle of wine and leave.

You grab a hold of your cart, moving it into the space beside him to get into the aisle.

“I don’t think you look like a fool, it's a look. Matter of fact, I would kill to be in some Pj’s and bunny slippers all day. I live in work suits for my job. I hate it.”

“I say start a petition for pajama day at your work.”

He laughs. “I might just do that… I’m Mar-”

“Well, hopefully, that goes well for you. Good luck.” You gave him a small and quickly made your way down the aisle. Your heart was beating against your chest. You had to get out there. You picked up a bottle of red wine off the shelf and put it in the cart. You looked back to see the man, but he was gone.

…

You spent the rest of your weekend setting up and organizing the rest of your apartment. You had a few things left to do like setting up your tv, but other than that your apartment was done.

It was 5:00 AM, Monday morning, you woke up super early to get ready for work. You didn't want to be late. You took a shower, did your hair, and got dressed. You looked out yourself in the bathroom mirror after you finished getting ready. You were dressed professionally. You felt a little silly, but you were going to be working at a fancy art museum. You spent the past year living in pj’s, shirt and shorts. It’s been a while since you had to dress up.  

Leaving your bathroom, you walk over to your kitchen grabbing your reusable tumbler cup filled with ice coffee. You head over the door, slipping on your flats, grabbing your keeps and bag off the hook, and heading out to your car.

By the time you made it into the city, it was almost 7. The traffic wasn’t too bad. You managed to find street parking, putting in a bunch of coins into the meter.

Walking up to the building you were in awe. It was a wide building with tall and long glass windows in the front. You walk up to the stairs, opening the glass door. The lobby was a large space There was an information desk a few feet off to the side of the entrance, along with stairs leading upstairs. Benches and few art sculptures on display throughout the room. Bathrooms and elevators are located on the middle far back wall. Exhibits were down the halls on the left and right side of the bathroom and elevators, and upstairs.

Workers and custodians traveled around the room, preparing to open the museum in about an hour.

You hear Elliot call after you. You look up noticing Elliot coming down the stairs.

“El!” You smiled walking towards him.

“Ah! I can’t believe you’re here!” He embraced you into a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here in D.C. with me. We"ll get to hang out all the time now."

You laugh. “I'm excited! Thanks again for getting me a job. I feel kinda bad though. Like technically I skipped the whole interview phase and got the job. Isn’t that kind of abuse to your position?”

“Seriously it’s fine and I’m the Museum Director, I call the shots around here.”

“Elliot…” You say under your breath.

Elliot rolled his eyes, “Come on, you know what you mean. I’m responsible for the operation of the whole place and I know you better than anyone, I trust you.”

You still couldn’t believe Elliot was in charge of this whole museum.

“Come on, I'll give you a tour of Clemonte!”

...

Elliot gave you a tour of the Museum’s exhibits and even behind the scene things that the public doesn’t get to see. The museum had such beautiful pieces of artwork. This place was amazing. You loved it. There was so much more you wanted to see, but you only had enough time to see part of it. Maybe during your free time, you’d look around to discover the rest.

“So, what do you think?”

“Wow, this place is stunning” you stay as you both make it back to the lobby.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“I’m alright. I’m a bit nervous I’m not going to lie.” You pull away.

“Nothing to be nervous about, you’ll be fine.” He reassures you.

“So do I have to call you Mr. Regan, boss man?” you giggled.

“Pff, no one calls me that. I feel so old when people call me that. Everyone just calls me Elliot.”

“So” he claps his hands together. “You’re going to be working at the Visitors Information desk.” He says pointing to the large and round information desk near the stairs.

“El, I just got here I don’t know anything!” Your eyes widen.

“You’ll be fine, and besides you’ll be working with Ms. Laurie, she’s been here for years. She’ll teach you everything you’ll need to know. And don’t worry, we have a list and maps where everything is you can refer to.’’

“Come on” his head points in the direction of the desk.

“Hi, Ms. Laurie!” He smiles brightly at the woman. She looked about to be in her late 60’s.

“Good Morning, Elliot!” she beams.

He introduces you to Laurie. “This is my friend, the one I was telling you about. She’s going to be working with you.”

“Ah yes! Hello dear! It’s lovely to meet you! I’m so glad you’re working with me!” She holds out your hand to take.

You take her hand. “It’s nice to meet you too! I’m excited.”

“Alright well, She’s yours now, Ms. Laurie, let her have it. This is for you,” Elliot hands you your ID badge.

“Where the hell did you get this photo?” You say scrunching your face at this old and outdated photo of you.

“I pulled it off your mom facebook- Also, The FBI are coming it today-”

“My mom’s Facebook- Wait, the FBI? Why what happened?” You furrow your eyebrows.

“The FBI has a specific bureau that deals with international art theft, the Art crime team or they call himself the Art Squad. Sometimes they come in here to do research, sting operations, stuff like that, so don’t worry if you see a bunch of them waltz in here. They come around a lot.”

“Oh..o-okay.”

“Alright, I gotta go, I have a ton of meetings today, but have a good day, love you, if you need anything let me know!” He shouted quickly as he speeds walked off.

“We’re going to be opening in about half an hour, I better get started with teaching you the basics” Laurie announced. “Come dear, you can put your things over here.” She pushes open the short desk door that came up to about your hips, letting your step into the desk area.

Laurie gave you a rundown on the layout of the museum and most frequently asked areas such as where the most popular art exhibits, bathrooms, and the gift shop.

“You got everything?” Laurie asked you.

“I think so. Just a lot of stuff to memorize.” “I know hun, but once you get the hang of it, it’s going to be a breeze! You’ll know it like the back of your hand!” She chuckles. “You’ll get it in no time, if you need any help, I’m here, or you can use the maps and lists we have sprawled all around here.” She motions to the piles of paper around the desk.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Laurie.” You smiled.

…

Once the museum is open, you have a bunch of people come to the visitor's information center asking you questions. Some you were able to answer, others you had to ask Laurie or use the resources you had.

It was noon. Nothing happened, a few people came to stop by, many of the families with young children were leaving, probably headed to see multiple other museums. You noticed a group of men and women walk in. They were all wearing suits. You assumed that it was the FBI agents. They all stood in the middle of the lobby, one man stood in front of the group, giving them instructions.

The group disbanded, pairs of agents headed towards different areas and wings of the museum. You went back to filling out an information form. An Elementary school had called wanting to have a field trip. You filled out the information on the form for the school, and It had to be sent up to Elliot later to get approval.

“Do you happen to know where I can get some bunny slippers?”

“Excuse m-” You quickly lift your head from the form. Standing in front of you was the guy from the grocery store, learning to gain the counter.

He smiles at you. “I see you aren’t wearing pj’s today and no bunny slippers, damn” he joked.

You chuckled slightly. “W-well I’m working. I have to dress professionally. Guess your petition for pj’s fell through, huh?”

“Yeah, no one was down for it, but I still want some bunny slippers. Where’d you get yours?”

“um...Amazon..”

“Alright, I’ll make a mental note...I saw you when I came in. I didn’t know you worked here. How come I’ve never seen you before?” He asked.

“I-I’m new, I just started today actually…” you fiddled with the pencil in your hand. You were growing nervous.

“Well, I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then…”

You swallowed hard. What was he getting at? “Oh, are we now-” You looked down at his ID badge that was clipped to his outer suit pocket that had the FBI in bold letters.

“Special Agent Pike” you read his name badge.

“Marcus” he held out his hand

You don’t take it. You were nervous. You had no idea what the Marcus guy wanted with you, and you weren’t looking for anything right now. Marcus Pike may seem all cute and harmless, but the next thing you know, he’ll be breaking your heart into two. He was probably trying to play nice to get in your pants.

After everything that happened with your boyfriend, you guarded yourself, bordering your heart with thick walls. You weren’t gonna let just anyone in. You had to protect your heart from things that hurt you in the past. You didn’t want to go through that pain again so it was better to keep walls up. You didn’t want to let anyone new into your life.

He moves his hand to scratch behind his head.

“So you gonna tell me your name?”

“No”

“No?”

“Why should I tell you my name?”

“I don’t know, because that’s what you do when you meet someone you new and you know what to call them by?” he furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“Well, you’re an FBI agent. If you wanna know, use your investigation skills and figure it out.” With that picked up paper, turning around in your hair, and walking over to the fax machine.

Marcus stood there confused. You were being nice, but then switched on a dime? Was it sometimes he said? He didn’t know what happened, but if you weren’t going to tell him, he just had to figure it out.

Out the corner of your eye, you see him walk off to the elevators. You sign in relief.

“I see you were talking to Marcus Pike.” Laurie chimed in coming out from your guy's office. “He’s a really nice guy.”

“Is he really or is that just a front to get into people's pants?” You asked, continuing to stare at him.

Laurie gasped in surprise, “Marcus Pike? No! He's such a sweetheart and very well mannered, ask anyone here, they'll tell you that.”

You sigh, now you felt kinda bad, you switched and judged him too quickly. You had trust issues that you needed to work on. You sign rubbing your face. You might have screwed up.

“I know he may be a little cocky and comes off a bit strong, but he’s a great guy once you get to know him.”

He gets in the elevator turning around. You two lock eyes, but you quickly look away back down to the fax machine.

You look back up noticing the elevator doors have closed.

“We’ll see about you, Agent Pike…”

Main Tag: @icanbeyourjedi @sara-alonso 

[vgriffindor]

aMusketeer Fanfic Master Post

Calling all Musketeers! We’re all in need of a serious dose of our favourites, amirite? I’ve seen a few queries floating around lately asking for some great Muskie fanfic recommendations. I thought I’d do 20 weekly posts, each with a different theme, and ask for your help! There are a ton of great Muskie fics out there, let’s help each other discover them.

How this works: For each theme, please give me your TOP recommendation. It can be a one-shot or multiple chapters, complete or still a WIP, your own or some one else’s, just shout about that one fic that fits the theme and you want people to READ! Reblog to spread the word, with your recommendation and tag me @vgriffindor, or DM your recommendation so that I can post it! I’ll keep each theme as a pinned post up/keep adding to it for the entire week.

Week #2: AUs

It sure is fun to place these four in a different world, and see how they react! Whether it’s the quiet heaven of a bookstore, the flirty, caffeinated vibes of a coffee shop, the perfume of a flower shop, the hard-bitten reality of a detective bureau, or just about anything else you can think of, the boys seem to handle whatever universe we throw at them with their trademark personalities and humour intact.

Midsomer Musketeers by Suzie_Shooter: Exactly what you think and want this to be, when you combine the Musketeers and Midsomer Murders. 

Fraternité et Égalité by BazinMousqueton: Clever, funny, sexy and gorgeously written modern AU in an architectural firm’s office. Slash, but not explicit, almost everyone is bi, and the whole thing is perfection.

(Below is all due to the hard work and enthusiastic response from @animanightmate! Thank you, you are awesome!)

E: yeah, you got me by cherryfeather - modern au graduation party oone-shot with a game of spin the bottle that gets angsty with forthcoming farewells and then very fulfilling indeed.

T: Chapter 10 of the collection of unrelated shorts (very short) His Smile Me Draws, His Frown Drives Me Away by akathecentimetre is entitled  In Goodly Colors Gloriously Arrayed and is a modern au where the lads are working for the Sûreté in Paris (though it’s never confirmed precisely as what) and it’s basically a series of three (the original Inseparables) character studies as they get used to being Responsible Adults. No filth... well, apart from Aramis’s feet...

G: Fancy is a very short modern au short by AnathemaDevice about the cats owned by (or owning) the various season three characters. Includes one of the most beautiful word-sketches of Sylvie I’ve yet read.

E: Mis Adventures by Doom Canary is an utterly filthy, modern British police au short featuring a trans male character that blew my mind in the best ways. If there’s a plot, I blinked and missed it.

T: born like a vapor by mellyflori is - and I can’t believe I’m typing this - a modern au where two of the Four are genies (yep, you read that correctly). It is utterly, unforgettably gorgeous, and just works. Angsty and charming, and has one of the most elegant solutions I’ve seen for “what happens with Constance?” The world-building is done so well it’s almost seamless, and I’m weak for that kind of thing.

T: Brand New Start is a short modern office au by potentiality_26 from Constance’s perspective and is melancholy, sweet, and vivid. OT3 but nothing graphic.

E: One in Ten Thousand by breathtaken is a novel-length modern soul bonds au that, as usual with her, subverts the trope and delves deep into the psyche of an intensely depressed Athos who was in no way prepared to meet his soulmate. It’s hard going at times, but utterly beautiful and very hot.

M: my heart upon my sleeve by cherryfeather is a novel-length modern Shakespearean actors au and I avoided it for ages because the synopsis was written in a deliberately tabloid style and I assumed the whole thing was like that. It is not - it is the most elegant, eloquent, literally tear-tugging bit of angst and mutual pining I’ve ever encountered, and takes in: hurt/comfort, Only One Bed, and friends-to-lovers tropes along the way. Basically, if they were a character in the first two seasons of the original, she finds a place for them in this gorgeous work.

E: The Humbling River (author unknown) is the only A/B/O fic that I will ever recommend, ever. This short is canon era, but I guess it still counts as au? I fell into it accidentally, but it was written so well that I didn’t care about the premise.

E: Une histoire de bleu by ceeturnalia is long. A 100k word modern day au where the lads are security specialists for a private firm in Paris. It is vividly stark and lushly compassionate in one go, and also explores a developing D/s relationship in great detail, so if that’s not your bag, that’s the main core of the story. And it’s handled so well that I have zero hesitation in recommending it, even though that in itself is not really my thing. It’s just so very, very good and, even at that length, still manages to be very tightly written.

M: Death in Waiting by Suzie_shooter is your actual 1920s country house murder mystery with all our favs (seasons 1 and 2 anyway) in a short-novel-length interbellum piece of Upstairs-Downstairs only of course there’s lots of forbidden sex all over the place, and a genuinely gasp-inducing (at least in me) set of reveals.

M: Still Waters by evilmaniclaugh is a modern office au with a twist. It’s porn with a plot (and a great deal of angst), and is startlingly hilarious in places (for good reasons, I promise).

M: Gentlemen of the Road by Suzie_shooter is a highwayman au set, from my vague enough understanding of the descriptions, about 100 years or so after the canon era. As usual for S_s, it’s Athos/Porthos pairing, from the perspective of Porthos, and I keep coming back to it, for the humour, the story, and the sex. Bonus points for Ninon and Rochefort showing up, and our brief glimpses of d’Artagnan being an utter little shit.

M: Mise en place by breathtaken is a short series featuring season 3 characters as chefs. And it’s stunningly beautiful, intimately told from a conflicted Constance’s perspective (something I’m utterly weak for) and I want there to be more because dammit - food and polyamory and found family and so many of my favourite things and I wish she was going to write more and aaaaah. Anyway, everyone is bi and kinky and I am so there for that...

I have so many of these, but I’m going to leave it here while I retain any shred of sanity or dignity, and finish by telling you about my own only (so far) modern au, entitled Summoned (rated M), set in modern-day Cambridge, UK, complete with references to Brexit and climate change, and a detailed depiction of the Fitzwilliam Museum. The MacGuffin is a museum anti-heist. Or is it reincarnation? Or music? Or synaesthesia? WHO KNOWS?! Anyway, it’s 75k+ words of conversations, misunderstandings, music, musings, museum architecture, poetry, stolen kisses, awkward flirting, and confusing flashbacks. There is one extended explicit sex scene and the rest is more along the lines of innuendo and a great deal of heated kissing. And I wrote it in about fives weeks and am rather proud of it, actually.

[fizziefizzco]

A to Z of LynnCove: E is for Eternity

A quick look at a bright future 

This was supposed to be posted yesterday but I had a bit of a panic attack so that did not happen :] Sorry about that!! Here’s a long one to make up for it <3 

-------------------------------------------------

Even though it was his day off, Cove still woke up to his alarm in the morning. He wasn’t a natural morning person, and needed the extra push in order to wake up most mornings. The sun filtered in through the semi-opaque curtains of his bedroom, and the 25 year old man groaned softly as he moved to turn his alarm off and grab his glasses. Just as soon as he slipped them on his face, did the sliding barn door to the bedroom open to an eager little Chesapeake Bay Retriever that bounded over to him and licked at the free hand that laid off the side of the bed. 

“Well good morning to you too, Fleche.” Cove hummed and petted the not-quite puppy , but not quite an adult dog, her coat was soft yet a little wet, as Fleche was a very messy eater.  At the little girl’s insistence, Cove swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, stretching in the light of the summer sun after he opened the curtains. Just as he stood up, the smell of breakfast cooking reached Cove’s nose. “Ah. So this is what you were sent here to do. Already had your breakfast, little girl?” Fleche pushed against Cove’s legs, not even looking up at him to answer his question. 

The house he lived in at age 25 was nothing short of beautiful. A small beach house right close to the water, it was like something out of a dream when he found it. Gorgeous wood floors, an overall hawaiian feeling to it (for being in southern california) and the best view ever…. Well, the beach was good too. 

[Rest Under the Cut]

His view, though, came in the form of a person’s back being turned to him as they stood in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Tall and angular, the years had been very kind to them, and their hair was long and in its natural color, a warm brown. There was a tattoo on their left calf of a crab surrounded by poppies, one that matched his own of a dolphin that resided on his lower back. They didn’t hear him coming, but Cove wasn’t one for pulling pranks, that thankfully, was his spouse’s forte. Cove walked up behind them, gently wrapping large arms around their waist and nuzzling his face in their hair. 

“Good Morning sleepyhead.” They spoke, not turning their head to look over at him. 

“ Mornin’ Lynn.” Cove returned, pressing a kiss to his spouse’s cheek. 

Lynn and Cove had changed a lot over the years in terms of likes and appearances. Lynn, who had once been asked to model thanks to their beautiful and femmine figure, was now a lot more androgynous after some soul searching, and a wonderful support network. Cove fit the more masculine look, and looked a lot more like his father, but that same look betrayed his soft and shy personality. 

“What are you making?” Cove asked after Lynn turned to look back at him and to get a kiss. Lynn smiled warmly as they turned back to the pan, and what was cooking inside it. 

“Pancakes. I made some separate ones for me, these are your pancakes.” Cove had only been half-listening after they mentioned that they made pancakes, the hungry thoughts of food filling his mind as he let go of his spouse. 

“I’ll set the table. What do you want to drink?” Cove asked, rubbing his eyes with a wide yawn. Lynn shrugged as they flipped one of the pancakes. 

“Orange juice sounds good.” Lynn said nonchalantly, to which Cove nodded and grabbed the bottle from their fridge, which was decorated with many tourist magnets as well as photos, ads, and sticky notes. 

Sooner, breakfast was finished cooking. Lynn served Cove’s plate first, and then their own at their small nook that served as their dining table. Fleche had run off to nap in a sunny spot on the couch, their living area being an open floor plan. The two of them weren’t perfect, as many people seemed to still believe, but they worked well and communicated with each other - which led to such a strong relationship. They had their own things that they did, and own friends, but they still did a lot together as a couple - one thing they loved doing, even now, was going for a surf on their days off. Cove wanted to ask Lynn if they were up to the idea. 

“Are you up for surfing today, husband?” Lynn asked, as though they’d read Cove’s mind. A mischievous smile danced on their lips, and Cove wasn’t sure if they could...or if they were just messing with him, but he felt like they knew. 

“Yes.”He squeaked out, a blush appearing on his features. 

The topic soon, even though it was their day off, developed into talking about work. At age 25, Cove was a chef and organizer for a local charity kitchen. It wasn’t a glamorous job, certainly, but it was one that he enjoyed doing. People loved him, and he was able to talk easier with the vulnerable people he taught to cook. Lynn’s hard work their entire life paid off, and they were a zookeeper, taking care of marine animals at the zoo’s aquarium. Their work and his helped pay for their gorgeous house, and dog.. And the nice set of savings for when they would try for children. 

The trip to the beach was as mundane as it always was, but for the two of them - every moment was magical as they ran around the water near their home. Fleche loved to play fetch with them when they went out on their surfboards, she could swim really far and would bring back the frisbee they threw each time. Fleche was also a very good girl as well, when they set her back on land and went at it surfing; the waters near their home were a prime spot for waves but were unknown except for by the locals. There was a kid that always came by to watch them, and the two of them often joked how much it was like they were already parents. 

After coming home from the beach and taking a shower, the couple split off and would do their own things on their day off. For Cove it consisted of testing a new muffin recipe that he wanted to surprise Lynn with, as well as getting in a few chapters of his new book, and watering the plants they were growing on their porch. For Lynn, their free time consisted of watching a new soccer match, a few crosswords during lulls in the game, working more on a painting they were doing, and unfortunately answering emails as the newest intern was a complete klutz but Lynn was very very patient. 

That night was time though for the two of them to get dressed up for a joint-family dinner. The Holdens and The Chos started it after Lynn went off for college and Cove moved out, though the individual families would still have separate dinners from time to time. It was much better with everyone though. Kyra still lived in Nevada, working ever hard on her writing - she had a boyfriend recently though, last time Cove and Lynn saw her. As for Mr. Holden, he’d gotten married the last summer, to a lovely woman named Aya who owned a flower shop, but Cove was still not sure about her. Mom and Ma were doing really well for themselves, taking it easy but still being the life of their country club. As for Lizzie… well, as much as Lynn’s older sister loved to joke about her lil sibling doing all the big milestones before her, there was one thing that she didn’t count on. Lizzie had a kid, and with her oldest friend no less. Shiloh and Lizzie had met again after that awkward encounter, and he’d apologized to her, with real feelings. They weren’t married yet or anything but things were going well for them, and they’d had a kid. Bertie, who was three. Lynn loved the little guy, and even though Cove and Shiloh were still awkward around each other as ever - the Holden-Cho family was good. 

“Do you have the thing you told Ma you’d bring?” Lynn waved their hand over to Cove who laughed as he took a container out of the fridge. 

“Of course. I made sure to tell Claude that she liked it so much when she came to visit. And yes, he promised to stop hitting on her.” He responded to his spouse’s question, watching as they slid earrings in while grabbing their keys. Lynn stopped short before doing anything else , feeling their husband’s eyes on their back the entire time. 

“Can I help you, Mr. Holden?” Lynn’s face split into a sly, seductive smirk. Cove bit his lip as he went to grab his coat from the counter barstool. 

“Why no, Mx.Holden, I was just admiring my ravishing spouse. You never cease to amaze me.” He mumbled as he closed the distance to them, Lynn using their hands to move his to their waist. 

“And you never cease to be the cheesiest man alive. You’ve got to stop hanging out with those boys.” Lynn’s words were drawn from their lips as Cove pressed a kiss to them. No makeup, but lip balm this night.  Cove pressed another kiss, and then another to his spouse’s lips, before pressing their foreheads together with a happy, contented sigh. 

“Normally I love being home with our families, but..” 

“But..?”

“But I’d rather much take you back to our bedroom and show you how much I appreciate you.” 

Lynn laughed at that and pulled away, heading to the shoe rack and front door. 

“Come on handsome. I’ll let you show me later tonight.” Lynn slid some cute flats on, their slender fingers brushing against the anklet around their … well, ankle. Before heading for the door, Lynn shot a look back at their blushing husband, whose hands were empty. 

“Don’t forget the food.”

[sandsofoneiros]

Plus One.

Disclaimer: I don't any of the Star Wars characters. The OCs are mine, however.

Warning: None that I can think of, other than some cursing? If something is then please let me know! Awkward encounters.

Summary: The bridal consultant au that no one asked for.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x OFC (Aurora)

Tagging: @thembohux.

It was a broken-down building with broken windows, and the parking lot was nothing more than dirt with gravel. Everybody claimed it wasn’t the proper place for anything, but Ro had concluded she was going to make it her future restaurant. This was her dream. She glanced at that for sale sign that had seen better days and exhaled. She was in her last year of college and was always saving whatever she could for this little dilapidated building. It was taking her longer than she expected, but she would not give up. Working at her mother's dress shop was useful and sharing the rent with Kaydel also helped, but she didn't feel any closer to her goal. Groaning, she took a much longer drag out of her cigarette before flicking to the ground and smothering it with her black flats. She had to work in thirty minutes and her mom wouldn't be too pleased if she smelled too much like smoke. Ro was only able to use stress as a reason now and then. Giving her dream one last ardent look, she grudgingly returned to her car. The drive wasn't long, but she felt fear the rest of the way and couldn't wait until the day she did what she loved.

Pulling into the parking lot, she grasped her steering wheel and collected all her energy to pull through another shift. Looking for the lint brush from her central console, she put it over her black dress to make sure she didn't have any Dio fur hidden on it. He might be short-haired, but that dog shed like no other. She then took her backpack and put her phone in her side pocket, along with her keys, before leaving her car. This was consistently the worst part. Having to leave the sanctuary of her car and turn into customer service friendly Aurora Citlali. It caused to her gag when she heard her customer service voice. The bell chimed as she strolled through the door and made her way to the break room to put her things away.

“Aurora, we have a bridal party here. I need you to help them. ” Eirlys, her mama, uttered as she stepped around her oldest daughter, holding a dress up.

“Let Thalia do it. I don’t like bridal parties. They never listen to me and they always cry. Why can’t I take the prom dress section? Teenage girls aren’t nearly as scary as upset brides.”

“Thalia is working on the alteration with your aunt, and Seraphine is helping with the prom gowns. We have bridal parties today and I need your help on this one.”

Of course, Thalia had decided that she wanted to do the sewing and alteration lessons today. Placing her backpack on the table, she retrieved her lunch and threw it into the refrigerator, noting that her mother had brought some leftovers. This could be a better lunch than what she brought.

“Okay, I'm going to look at their consultation sheet and grab some dresses to see what she wants. What’s her name?”

“Rey Solo.”

Ro nearly choked as she heard the familiar name. Not her. Ro and Rey had never exactly been friends. They were just acquaintances. They met through a mutual friend and didn't really hit it off. Ro never thought so at least. Rey never actually said much to her and had repeatedly just gone on about how she was “one of the guys.” It was something that got under her skin more than anything. Of course, she knew that people from her high school would come to the store for their big day. However, she did not anticipate that Rey would be the first. She was taken off guard.

"Momma, can't Seraphina help you instead? I mean, she rarely does wedding parties and it would be an excellent experience!”

Like in high school, Ro fled to get away from Rey. She didn't want to face her or the people that she was with, either. She had no idea who Rey was friends with other than Finn and Poe. Poe. There was someone she hadn't thought of in ages. Her former high school crush. Shaking her head at the thought of the old crush, she returned to seek a way out of this little mess. She slid out of her comfortable flats and put herself in black heels. Without saying anything else, she moved to the prom gown section of the store to find Seraphine. His younger sister had always been extroverted and always glowed when she worked. Something else about Seraphina? She couldn't turn down her older sister.

“Seph! Pssst! Come here.” Whispering, Ro elbowed his sister to get her attention. Seraphine excused himself before following Ro to a quieter place.

“What is it? We’re supposed to be working.” She teased before her hands reached out to mess with Ro’s burgundy waves. She had always messed with her sister’s hair.

“Want to be my favorite younger sister for the rest of your life?”

"I'm everybody's favorite, Ro." Seph folded her arms, she raised an eyebrow at the oldest Citlali. Bribery didn't always work with her.

“Rude. Will you please attend the bridal party?”

“What? No, mother said it was for you. I have to help the prom shoppers.”

“Please! Seph, I went to school with the bride and I don't want to face any of that awkwardness.”

“Mama said no, and I’m not getting on her unpleasant side. Maybe next time we can swap.”

Her lips shot down into a pout, while Seraphine offered her an apologetic smile. She would not get out of this, no matter what she did. Moving to the consultation area, Ro took a deep breath and put on her finest fake smile, and continued to the awaiting ladies. Ro soothed down her dress before glancing around a rack of ivory dresses. She could see Leia, Rey, then the woman she most dreaded, Zorii's Bliss. She was being back in high school. That sentiment had long ago been buried and kept buried. It was one of the most frustrating times of her life and she did not want to give in to those lost memories. She was a bit surprised that there were no more people with Rey. She always seemed to be one of the more popular girls at school. Why was she always clinging to the past? It was certainly time to let that go, and she had! She moved on with her life.

Be an adult.

Fluffing her hair, Ro started her way over to where the women were sitting and laughing. It was now or never; she needed to get this over with.

“Rey Solo? Hi, I’m Aurora Citlali. I’ll be helping you today. You can just call me Ro though.” Aurora introduced herself and shook Rey’s hand before proceeding to introduce herself to Leia and Zorii. Ro had only met Leia a few times but appeared as kind as she remembered.

“Aurora! Hold up, I recognize you! I was in school with you! You had to remember me!” Just fake it, Ro. Fake it. She told herself before she laughed.

“Oh, my goodness! Rey! I don't believe it! You look fantastic!” She drew back to ‘get a better look’ at Rey and move further out of reach before Rey gestured over to Zorii, who didn’t even look remotely thrilled about seeing Ro.

“You remember Zoril, don't you? She's my maid of honor!” Rey expressed with so much excitement that Ro felt a little bad about how sour her attitude had been earlier. . Leaving the past where it belonged, Ro concluded that she would be a little more excited about this

“Zorii? Oh, my gosh! I barely recognized you! You both look so beautiful! Not that you weren’t before, but y’know! Okay, why don't we get started? We have many dresses for you to choose from! Tell about your partner and your wedding!”

“Rey, keep in mind that we are still waiting for someone. Wait before you try dresses on.” Leia spoke up as she tapped away on the phone. Ro could only speculate that she was sending a text to the individual in question.

“Is that alright? I’m positive it won’t be too much longer.” Rey pleaded, and Ro just smiled before grabbing her hands and giving them a slight squeeze. She was going to sell this kindness with everything that she could and make a sale today.

“Of course! We can just talk and I can get some ideas on which gowns you might want. Now, we normally have a consultation sheet for brides to fill out and helps us with picking out dresses.” Ro hunted around for the clipboard that would have everything she required to get the process moving. Rey gladly gave it to her as she sat next to her mother and Ro drew another chair. Green hues examining the white piece of paper and she was screaming inside. It would be harder than she thought. Further conversations were going to take place, and she scorned that.

"I don't wear many dresses.”

“Oh, that's not a problem. We got tons of styles! No worries. Just start telling me what you might like and I'll take the notes.”

The following thirty minutes were devoted to jotting down the occasional dress patterns that Rey suggested and Ro counting the ceiling tiles. Where was this other fellow, and why weren't they still here? It was going a lot easier than she anticipated and she expected it to continue. It was strange to see them again, and she tried her best to forget every moment from long ago. Ro drifts down the aisles of white dresses before taking the dresses she had gathered in the fitting room reserved for Rey. The consultant was careful to space the dresses on the hooks to let Rey see some details better. She ensured to have all her accessories to help make the dress better adapted to Rey's shape before presenting it to everyone. Ro’s mind had wandered about her own wedding day. Most girls had their wedding planned before they were sixteen, but Ro never really thought of it. She had never met anyone who, in her opinion, would be the one doing this next step with her. On top of that, she had a restaurant to own one day. She didn’t have time to bother about relationships. Out of sight, out of mind.

Looking in the mirror, Ro took another deep breath and breathed out as she left the dressing room to rejoin Rey and her party. While circling the corner, she immediately froze when she saw the man who had accompanied them. She recognized the dark curls, the infectious laughter, and all she could do was stand there. Her legs didn't want to go forward. Not one single step. Poe Dameron. It was fucking Poe Dameron. The universe was not happy with her. That's all she could think at that moment before she cleared her throat. This couldn’t be happening.

“Looks like we have a fox in the hen-house,” Ro teased as she remained behind all of them. She would not get any closer to the man. Squeezing her hands together and in front of her as she smiled at everyone. Missing how Poe's eyes appeared to roam from top to bottom of her form. 'Is this the groom? ' The simple act of asking makes her feel disappointed. It wouldn’t surprise her if Poe had swept Rey off her feet.

“Poe? Oh no! Poe is the best man, and I thought he'd be an excellent addition to what Finn might like!”

Ro sighed with relief that Poe was not the groom and held out her hand. He just kept staring at it. She realized he was having trouble remembering who she was, and she prayed he wouldn't.

“Poe Dameron. You are?”

His smile was still as bright as ever. She felt the butterflies fluttering once more, and she pressed her lips into a thin smile. She couldn't give him her name. They were close back then just because they had met in chemistry class. They had no friends in the class and had formed a partnership. It had been the start of a treasured friendship until it ran its course.

“The woman that will find Rey the perfect dress.” She gave him a firm handshake before bringing the brunette back to the dressing room. Her heart was pounding in her chest as they strode away. It was about to be harder than she thought. The lengthier part of the consultation was about to begin. It was time for Rey to try on her dresses and deal with others with all opinions. This was the worse part for Ro. She struggled repeatedly with the frequency at which the voice of the bride got lost at this time. So many brides would like the dress and a single voice would utter poisonous words and the bride would change her mind. As a consultant, Ro's opinion and voice had limited weight, and she realized that. They even completed the bride's look with the veil, shoes, and some jewelry just to get everyone on board, but it did not always work. Ro had chosen a simple A-Line gown, to begin with, and saw the uncertainty on Rey's face as she pinned everything in place to compliment his figure.

“I think this one looks wonderful. It’s not too flashy, and it’s sleeveless. The sweetheart neckline is elegant as well. There’s some lace. What do you think?” Ro asked as she examined Rey posing. She could already see that the dress did not move her.

"That's nice," murmured Rey.

“Would you like to show them and get feedback?”

Rey nodded as Ro opened the door and helped her to get to the platform where the rest were waiting. She watched as Rey stood on the runway opposite the illuminated mirrors and waited. It was in these moments that Ro counted things around the store, but Poe had moved into her line of vision. She stayed focused on her client while she moved around in the gown. None of them had talked until now, and she was a little concerned about that. The dress wasn't bad at all but didn't exactly suit Rey.

“What do we think guys?” Ro finally spoke up for them. She wasn’t the most patient woman in these moments.

“It’s a splendid dress, but I don’t think it fits her. It looks wonderful, but not her style.” Leia offered as she continued peering at the dress. She had shifted on the couch to sit forward to see the dress better. It was rare that the first dress was ever the dress.

“I agree. It's a long dress, and sometimes Rey gets excited.” Zori laughed, prompting Leia to join the little joke she made. However, the women turned their attention to Poe, who kept on staring at the bridal consultant. It was not unusual for Poe to flirt, but it was probably not the best while his best friend's fiancé was hunting her wedding dress.

“Poe?” Leia shook her head at the man that she regarded as her son.

“It’s alright. I mean, I don't think you'll like wearing it all night. Besides, you or Finn could step on it and rip it." Poe shrugged his shoulders as he glanced at Ro. He still had difficulty figuring out where he knew her from.

'I guess we'll have to try another one, Aurora.' Rey laughed as she picked up the skirt from the dress and walked down the runway. Things seemed to stop then. Why did Rey have to say her name? She couldn't help but close her eyes when she heard her name. She just hoped that Aurora was a popular name, even if in this little town it wasn't. She counted the seconds that seemed to go by before he made the connection. A moment that she feared since she saw him.

“Aurora? Ro Citlali? Ro! God, I knew it!” He was already jumping out of the chair and hugging her. How many more times would she be hugged today? Timidly, she hugged him and tried not to inhale Poe's spicy cologne. Why couldn’t she pull away from this hug? Why didn’t she want to? How could this be happening to her?

“It's nice to see you too,” mumbles Ro, but made no effort to let go. Poe was the one to pull back and what seemed to be the millionth time since he got there looked at her again.

The rest of the appointment seemed to be going a little better. They had decided that Rey would be happier in a short style dress and Ro was currently pulling dresses from there. She was doing her best no to be around Poe. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, but she wasn’t enjoying the butterflies that he caused. That just wasn’t fair. Ro wasn’t going to get lost in his coffee-colored eyes, she wasn’t going to think about being in his arms again, and she was going to get her hopes up about reviving their friendship. Instead, she stood idly by and ran around the shop for the bride.

“Okay, but you can’t avoid me forever, RooRoo.” The sound of his voice startled her and she nearly dropped the dresses that she was holding. Shaking her head, she let out a little chuckle. Ro had done an excellent job avoiding Poe now and she wouldn't stop now. There was no way she was going to let him weasel his way back in after all that had happened. The use of the old nickname made her bite the inside of her cheek. That wasn’t fair. He always used that nickname when he was trying to get her not to be mad at her.

“Dameron, I haven't seen you since high school. It's no different.” She was mumbling before she took another gown. Rolling her eyes, she set off again to the dressing room where Rey was waiting for her.

“Dameron? Still angry, huh?” Scratching his neck, he thought maybe she'd already forgiven him, but that didn't seem to be the case.

“Still angry? No, that would mean I've been thinking about you all this time and that's not true. I haven't thought about you in quite a while."

“Ouch. I thought about you…”

Poe's statement made her stop for a while and she wanted to believe it, but it wasn't a good time. She was working and she had to concentrate on finding the right wedding dress for Rey. Poe could wait.

[twokinkybeans]

Kinktober Prompt Fill #20: Master/Slave (24/7)

Find our full Kinktober post right here!

Summary: Tony has to go to a meeting, but he wants his boy to stay horny and ready for him. Warnings: Master/Slave (24/7 dynamic), NFF, Adult Peter Parker, Praise Kink, Remote Controlled Sex Toys, Public stuffs

When I initially started writing this during lunch break, I was aiming for this to be bigger and then a lot of stuff came in between after work- SIGH. Sorry for the tease :P

-Lien

Read on AO3

About two months into their relationship, Tony and Peter discussed their eerily similar kinks. They're so compatible, they soon found themselves living their interests all day long. Casual touches, possessiveness and servitude... It was everything Peter could only dream of as an exploring teen and now he was living this life.

"T-Tony," Peter whines as he leans into the older man's touch, nuzzling the crotch of Tony's pants. "Please, don't go-" "Ssh-ssh-ssh," Tony shushes as he pulls back a little, caressing the collar around Peter's throat. "I'll be home in two hours and then you can warm my cock all you like, how's that sound?" "Yes- Yes, please," Peter moans muffled into the pantalons, pressing soft kisses against the clothed shaft.

Maybe he's obsessed with Tony's dick, so what? Who could blame him? The man was well hung and the perfect size and shape for Peter to wrap his lips around. They were made for each other. Others would say Peter is being used by his older boyfriend, but the people who know them, know better. Peter has Tony wrapped around his fingers. He can get anything he wants, whenever he wants. He just so happens to always want Tony's throbbing cock splitting him in two. Either side, doesn't matter, as long as he's filled.

"Such a good, little slave, aren't you?" Tony coos as he pulls Peter away from his hardening shaft by tugging at his hair. The boy looks up hungrily and Tony quietly curses at himself. He doesn't want to leave for that stupid meeting. He wants to spend time with his good boy, as he always does. Some meetings unfortunately can't be cancelled, though. "For you, Master," Peter whispers with a slacked jaw. An idea sparks in Tony's head.

"Why don't you go out for some shopping, huh? Go buy some pretty lingerie for tonight. Make yourself even more beautiful. For me." Peter smiles up and nods shyly as his Master helps him stand upright. "What's the budget?" Peter asks, smirking. It's a running joke between the two of them, from when Peter was still younger and didn't get to financially rely on Tony yet. Tony's answer is always the same. The man embraces Peter to kiss his opened mouth. "Sky's the limit."

Their kiss grows bolder by the second and while Peter's fingers find Tony's hair, Tony's hands travel down, roaming Peter's back until he squeezes his bare ass, eliciting a sweet, soft gasp from him. "Yes, yes-" Peter can't help but rub himself against Tony's expensive three-piece suit. A quick yelp escapes his lips when Tony suddenly breaches his crack, immediately finding his hole and pushing something in. "Haa- wha-?"

He clenches around the familiar shape and then chuckles, dropping his head against Tony's shoulder while the man pets him, coaxing him through the sensation and the proccess of getting used to the cold toy now resting inside of him. "Didn't think I was gonna let you out there without a little reminder, did you?" Tony presses a soft kiss on Peter's cheekbone. "Want you to always know you're mine." "Yours, m-yours," Peter sighs, melting under Tony's attention "That's right..."

...

Peter didn't expect to be this nervous. He doesn't actually want to get caught being buzz-fucked by remote controlled Stark tech in a high end lingerie store. The toy has been steadily humming inside Peter for about half an hour now, making him hot and dizzy as he browses through the racks filled with skimpy outfits. Occasionally, the toy's buzzing gradually increases and decreases, a sure way to let Peter know Tony is in control. That he's there with Peter, even though he's at the meeting, lazily dragging his finger up and down the screen of his phone. The thought alone has Peter twitch with delight.

After a short while, he finds a few sets to try on and he makes his way to the changing rooms. They're spacious and, since it's a door that fully closes, quite private. Slowly, he starts undressing, goosebumps covering his skin at the sudden cold hitting it. Or is it the vibe that's buzzing more and more prominently in his hole? Against his sweet spot? Anyways...

By the time Peter gets into the first pair, he's a sweaty, panting mess. There's no way these lingerie items are gonna stay clean. He's gonna have to buy them all. Not that Tony would mind and neither does Peter, honestly. It'll just be an awkward encounter at the register. Soft moans fall from his lips, in a poor and desperate attempt to stay quiet. His hips roll and he stares at himself in the mirror as he cups his shaft through the black lace. In a whim, he takes out his phone and sends his Master a photo of his current state. The reply is swift. Collected. TS: So needy. For who? PP: U TS: Tsk, bigger words, Petey, you're smarter than that. PP: For you. TS: Good boy. Right as the message pops up on Peter's screen, the vibe goes up to the most intense setting for a good ten seconds. Peter nearly drops the phone out of his hands, standing on his tippy toes in an attempt to get away from the overwhelming sensation. He loses his balance and clutches the walls, arching his back and biting his wrist to stifle his otherwise porn-worthy moans. He needs a second to come back to himself when the buzzing settles at a lower setting again. PP: Thank you, thank you. TS: Oh, sugar, so sweet. Put on the next set you picked. PP: Yes, Master. Peter's body convulses when the vibe goes up in intensity again. He barely manages to remain upright. He squeezes his face tightly together and paws at his ass, fighting the urge to rip the toy out. He'd be strong, he'd hold on, for Master. That doesn't mean it's the most agonizing, mind numbing pleasure Peter has ever experienced. The panties are already soaking with his precum. He finally manages to grab the second pair from its hanger, already anticipating the next wave of immeasurable pleasure. This is going to be a long fitting...

[theawkwardterrier]

The Shops on Shield Street

Steggy Week 2k20, day 4 Prompt: AUs and crossover

Summary: Running a small business is already hard enough without someone trying to sabotage things.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents​ for organizing!

The first time Peggy visits Steve’s shop is the day he opens.

Working just down the street, she’s spent the past few months watching the renovations at what had been most recently been a short-lived scented candle business. When the new signs and awnings had gone up naming it as Shield Street Books, she’d been further intrigued; she’s seen various stores come and go through the space, but a bookshop is new. Now, on her lunch break, she takes the opportunity to go visit.

She looks over the front windows first: the right-hand side is filled with buzzy new releases and bestsellers for adults, the left with books for younger readers. The windows themselves are painted with a colorful but subtle border of books on the right, while the left side features lovely illustrations of Wild Things marauding across the bottom, a mockingjay pin hidden along the side, a Little Prince floating among the stars at the top, and a web reading “Some Pig” in the corner. The chalk sign reads “Grand opening” on one side and “Ask us about our events!” on the other.

Peggy is cautiously optimistic as she steps in, a cheerful little bell jingling as she does. The space isn’t cavernous but it’s large enough, and the high ceilings, big front windows, light wood flooring and shelves, and friendly gray-green walls make it seem more open. The checkout is easily visible, a chalkboard wall above it featuring a listing of upcoming book club meetings, a coffee and cookies social series, and a reading by a local poet (Peggy supposes that you have to be a bit more established to start getting better-known names).

The front area has all the typical souvenirs everyone around here sells - magnets, mugs, pens, postcards - along with fancier or more specifically bookish things like scarves, tote bags, and book weights which seem to be attracting some good attention. A few people are looking at the cookbooks and coffee table books lining the walls and stacked on tables nearby, and she can see browsers in the labeled aisles spanning out into the main area of the store: mystery, biography and memoir, young adult, politics, each with an appropriate, particularly-styled illustration. A sign pointing downstairs advertises a used book area, as well as a gallery and event space. She breathes in the scent of fresh wood and words on paper, officially impressed.

She is examining a table just before the aisles which is covered with a display of staff favorites when a voice behind her says, “I love that one.”

Turning with the copy of My Favorite Thing Is Monsters still in hand, she encounters the man who until now she’s only seen at a distance, occasionally ducking in and out of the store while it was under construction. He’s tall and blond, with broad shoulders beneath his heather gray T-shirt, plain except for a small, oddly-rendered sketch of a pale turquoise bird in side profile and showing one large eye. She tries not to let on how distracted she is by the hint of a darkly-inked tattoo peeking out from the bottom of his sleeve; his blue eyes are watching her clearly from behind a pair of thick-framed glasses.

“I’m sorry?” she asks politely, trying not to let on that she’s slightly lost the thread of how things started.

“That’s a great book. I love it,” he offers, shrugging awkward shoulders although his smile is still lovely and genuine. “Although it’s not too surprising seeing as I’m most of the staff here, so the table’s pretty much stacked with books I love.”

“You must be the new owner then,” Peggy says, putting out a hand. “Congratulations. I’m Peggy Carter. I run Top Shelf Tea and Coffee up the street.”

“Steve Rogers, good to meet you." He shakes with her, then gestures to the book she’s still holding in her other hand. “Are you browsing for yourself, or just over here to check out the new neighbors?”

“I think I can do both quite handily,” she says, smiling back at him. “Though I don’t typically read graphic novels. Perhaps you can recommend something else?”

Nothing precisely shifts about his posture, but she suddenly has the sense that he’s more settled on his heels, focused even more intently on her. “What do you typically read?”

“Very little, of late,” she admits, making a bit of a face. “I used to read quite a bit of mystery - Gothic, classics, noir, Agatha Christie, Tana French, and my favorites were those where you get suspense and a good story but a good sentence too. But with everything on my plate, I’m lucky if I can get through a half chapter before I go to sleep.”

“Sure.” He crosses his arms, which does nice things for his muscles, as well as showing off an extra sneaking bit of his tattoo. Watching him think, she has the sudden feeling that she’s in very good hands. And, when he rings up a collection of P.D. James short stories and one originally published in Swedish called An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good (“With your schedule, it might be easier to enjoy a little section over a night or two rather than trying to force yourself to make it through a hefty novel”) along with a copy of Dorothy B. Hughes’s In a Lonely Place that he’d tracked down in the used book section (“It’s not long, and it’s dark, smart, psychological noir”) it seems she’s right.

Peggy is not behind the counter when Steve shows up at her shop the next day, but she comes out from the back when she recognizes his voice ordering the house blend coffee.

“I had expected you to have more of an opinion than that,” she teases as she walks through from the kitchen with a tray of fresh scones to load into the display case and finds him waiting to pick up his drink. He’s come in past the commuter crush and before the lunch rush, but even with Peggy’s staff working quickly and efficiently as usual there’s enough of a wait to guarantee a moment to chat. “I certainly anticipated your drink of choice would be something with minimal fuss, but I would have guessed at something with a bit more imagination at least.”

He laughs. “I’m just trying to get the lay of the land here, and the house blend is how I know what kind of joint you’re running here.” Rose places a cup labeled “Steve!” on the counter, smiling at him before she twirls away again. He picks it up, takes in the steam rising through the lid, smiling as he does. “It smells good. But when you name your place ‘Top Shelf,’ you have some pretty high expectations to meet,” he warns, smile still flickering around his mouth.

“Don’t worry.” She leans over the counter toward him. “The expectations are exactly where I want them.”

His eyes widen after the first sip and he takes a second before he’s even swallowed. “You were right. You don��t have anything to worry about.”

“I know,” she says plainly. “And my true expertise is with the tea. Try the Irish blend next time you’re here, or a cinnamon rooibos latte if you’re feeling adventurous.”

His eyes smile over the top of the cup and he takes another sip. “I guess I’ll have to keep coming back with so much to try.”

“I suppose you will,” she says, trying to sound friendly but casual when she adds, “And I’ve finished two of the stories in the P.D. James, so I might have to come back for more recommendations soon.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he tells her. This time, even with the clamor of people waiting behind him or skirting huffily around to pick up drinks, he isn’t smiling, he’s grinning.

By the time Steve drops in one afternoon eight months later, he is a very familiar sight. Daniel wraps one of the enormous seasonal apple-cinnamon muffins as soon as he walks through the door then waits for him to order a drink - the staff knows that while Steve certainly has favorites on the drinks menu, he changes between them often enough to keep things interesting. (He always orders a muffin, though: apple-cinnamon in autumn, blueberry the rest of the year.)

Usually they don’t have time for lengthy chats during the day considering the crowds at Top Shelf and the customers and part-timers waiting for Steve to return over at Shield Street, but today when Peggy comes out to say a brief hello, she finds Steve sitting at one of the tables. The small tilt of his head as their eyes meet is enough for her to slide the proposal she’s reading about switching dairy providers into her pocket and walk over to sit with him. The little two-seater he’s picked is away from the large front windows, and she seats herself in the comfortable leather armchair across from him with a feeling of relative privacy.

“Is something wrong?” she asks. Steve’s doing well enough as far as she knows: Shield Street seems often to buzz with foot traffic and they’ve been promoting their online store, there is a solid slate of events and programs including the coffee and cookies socials for which he sources the refreshments from Top Shelf, there was a lovely recent write-up in the local paper, and he’s even been able to hire a full time employee other than himself. Still, she knows entirely too well that the life of a small business owner can be somewhat exacting and stressful. Small mistakes in ordering stock or taking on a bit too much can be enormously costly, and even when you’ve done everything correctly, factors outside your control can conspire against you without much of anything to serve as protection. Steve’s tense expression mirrors the way she sometimes felt in the first few years after she’d opened - and still does today, if she’s being honest.

He sips his tea slowly, and she can tell it’s not because he’s finally remembering her advice about allowing the flavors to settle.

“There was a guy in at the store this afternoon,” he says finally. “Stuck around a long time, looked in every corner, and then didn’t buy anything. But I overheard him on the phone when I was coming over here.” He looks up at her, eyes somewhere between hard and stricken. “Peggy, I think he’s from Hydra.”

The common wisdom is that the largest threat to small businesses are superstores and online giants, the franchises of the world which can spring up on every corner or be available at a moment’s notice, backed by large pools of money that leave them free to take risks and undercut other vendors, offering brand recognition to customers across large areas without being tied by communal or ethical bonds to any of the places they land.

Hydra, a business conglomerate few had actually heard of, took the pushback against big chains and used that for its own ends. Rather than focusing on any single industry, or even establishing Hydra brand all-in-one stores, their model was to sweep in to buy various local businesses and keep their original names, or to establish seemingly innocuous storefronts without any stated connection to Hydra. But while people thought they were shopping locally and supporting their own neighbors, helping to maintain healthy competition and a diversity of business, mass-produced goods would slowly replace the higher quality ones, workplace regulations would be flouted while employees were scared into silence by the power of the corporate owners, and money would flow out of communities and into Hydra’s distant and ever-deepening pockets. Steve and Peggy kept their finger on the pulse of the small business world, and they had read stories online, often later hastily retracted or swiftly vanished, stories of small towns and cities across the country where, within a few years, whole streets full of businesses that seemed to be independently-run and community-owned were actually just cheery facades under one corporate umbrella.

And now Hydra was here. Peggy thought about the shops between her business and Steve’s: the florist, the hardware store, the brewpub, the rare family-owned pharmacy, the ice cream parlor which is part of a beloved local chain, the independent movie theater, the places on other streets in their town which sold toys and art supplies and comics and shoes.

Behind her, the door opens. A squat, balding man enters, grandfatherly dapper with a suit, a bow tie, round glasses, all undercut by the coldness in his gaze. He looks around at what Peggy has built - the scattered tables and cozily diverse seating options from armchairs to stools to window seats, the carefully hung plants, the racks of magazines and stacks of available books which Steve has selected for her, the displays of art by students from the nearby universities, her talented staff, and of course her carefully curated menu - and writes something brief in a small notebook. He steps up to the counter to order.

“That’s him,” she says to Steve, barely a question. “That’s who you saw.” He nods, looking down into his mug, fingers tight around the solid pottery. Peggy remembers picking out these cups, sorting through dozens of listings until she found the exact ones she wanted: an entire range of colors, big enough for a good serving size and for wrapping hands around, but not awkward to sip at.

“If it is them,” she says, knuckles clenching beneath the table, “we won’t let them win.”

Steve looks up at her; the smile on his face is wan, not up to the usual brightness she looks forward to, but it’s the first one she’s seen at all from him today. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The man approaches Steve first, introducing himself as Arnim Zola. He’s done his homework, knows about the finances of the shop and about Steve’s personal finances as well, from the loans he’s taken out to the fact that his mother had barely anything to leave him when she died.

“You’re a smart businessman, Mr. Rogers, I have seen that quite well. Though you might have good growth now, who knows what tomorrow might bring? Selling now and taking the money which comes with the offer, that is the smart business decision.”

And Steve, for whom courtesy is not second nature but first, has trouble turning him down with a “no thank you,” rather than a “piss off.”

Zola seems to hear it anyway, but he overcomes the spasm of anger with a smile. “I will be happy to speak to you later, if anything happens to change your mind. As I said, there is quite a lot of unreliability in business ownership.”

A pipe bursts in the back of the store that night, even though they’d all been replaced as part of the renovation. A good chunk of inventory gets soaked. Peggy walks past the next morning to find Steve putting the less damaged material out on a rack to sell at a steep discount. He tells her what happened with barely concealed fury in his throat. They hadn’t heard about Hydra deliberately driving owners to sell, but neither of them is exactly surprised.

Peggy goes to work for the next few days with her head full of rage and incipient plans. When Zola comes to request a meeting and make his case later in the week, she turns him down so sweetly that it takes a minute for him to understand that it had even happened.

She’s never had Steve over to her little flat above Stewart’s Sandwich Spot, but after a few days of working across the empty tables of Top Shelf or cramming into Steve’s office after they’ve locked up for the night, she invites him to join her.

“I had concerns about pests and odors when I first came,” she says as they climb the narrow back stairs single-file, “but I’ll have lived here five years this January and haven’t had a problem with either. In fact, waking up to the scent of their fresh bread every day is quite the bonus.”

“Plus you can pick up dinner on your way in.” Steve’s voice behind her is teasing, though accurate, as he’s currently holding the bag with the food they’d bought three minutes ago: a Tipsy Texan for her and his Peter Paul Ruben along with several orders of the fries which Peggy promises are outstanding.

She’s right. The agreed-upon brief break for sandwiches spirals into experimentation as to which of the various dipping options is the best for the french fries, then into conversation about places they’ve traveled and the best foods they ate there. Peggy backpacked a bit after university, and still tries to take a bit of vacation when she can. Steve, she finds out for the first time, was in the army and was deployed several times.

“The guys I went over with, we all came home,” he says quietly. They’ve gotten into the wine at this point. “We all got these together.” He stretches down the collar of his shirt enough for her to see some very nice muscles as well as a tattoo: concentric red and white circles with a blue center marked by a star. The outermost circle reads “107th Regiment.”

“What is the one on your arm?” she asks before she can stop herself. He chuckles and lifts his sleeve where she can now see the words clearly inked in black around his bicep: “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,” ended by an ellipses trailing from black to gray to white.

“My mom used to read Tolkien out loud at bedtime,” he explains. “And I still think about the way that one sentence opened up a whole world, a whole life, for me.”

She pours a touch more into her glass, shifting her feet up onto the sofa beside herself. “You’ve always loved reading, then?”

“Yeah. Back when I was growing up, if I wasn’t really sick, I was just getting through being sick or getting started being sick again. All that time in bed, I needed a lot to read; I was always going through the big stack of books next to my bed, or listening to some audiobook on my old Discman. When I was doing okay, I used to go talk to the librarians, and I was around so much that eventually I started volunteering there.”

He chews through one of the last remaining fries, cold now. “When I got discharged, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself. All I could think of was how good books made me feel, how important they were for me, how I could help put them in the hands of others. And then one day I was walking by, saw the For Sale sign on the space, noticed that the street sign said Shield, and just knew.” He shrugs. “There are small business loans aimed at vets, and my friend Bucky went into construction after we came back, helped me put the place together the way I wanted it.”

“And all that starting with one little hobbit,” she says with a smile. She pushes her hair back, feeling flushed and a bit young.

He leans against the back of the couch. “How about you? What made you decide to open Top Shelf?”

“Spite,” she answers promptly, making him laugh. “It’s entirely true. I wish I could tell you some sweet story about my grandmother bringing me to a tea shop every Saturday back when I was a girl, but I wouldn’t lie to you. The fact of it is that my mother accepted my coming to university in the States, but as I was finishing my degree, she became quite adamant about my doing graduate work to enter into law or finance. I had little interest in either, and didn’t want simply to put in the investment because she was forcing me.

“At the same time, I had a part-time job at a coffee shop where the owner was the worst sort of boss: constantly critical without any actual suggestions for improvement or true understanding of daily operations, unwilling to make necessary changes or updates, over- and under-scheduling the staff at a whim. Finally I told him that in one day I could have the place running better than he ever could, at which point he started fuming that doing his job was harder than I could imagine, and fired me. By that evening, when my mother called once more to have a ‘little chat about my future,’ I told her that I had started a business plan and would be opening a tea and coffee shop as soon as possible.”

“How did she take it?” His voice is softer. Somehow they’ve moved closer together on the sofa. With his arm draped along the back, his fingertips graze the gauzy sleeve of her blouse.

“She shouted at me, hung up, and refused to speak to me for several days, but that just gave me time to become more confident and knowledgeable by the time she called next.”

“And you succeeded.”

“I did.” She stops herself from leaning into him the way that she wants to. She might get a bright rush hearing his voice at the counter during the day, might drop by his shop for a new book even while she already has several still waiting at home, might relish this extra time to discover the thoughtful, generous, opinionated details of him of which she’s seen captivating hints over the past months, but they have a purpose here. She clears her throat, steadies herself. “I succeeded, and I mean to keep what I’ve made.”

It’s after midnight when Steve finally goes home. She tries to tell herself that it’s a shame that they didn’t really have a chance to work on their strategy, but when it means that they come back to her house the next night, and go to his the night after, she can’t be truly upset.

As a business owner and a town resident of over half a decade, Peggy has been to a council meeting or two in her time. But she prepares for tonight with special attention, leaving the shop early enough to take a longer than usual shower. She chooses a recently purchased top - navy with silver and pale blue detailing, a flattering silhouette, and a modest V-neck - and adds makeup with more than her usual care. She finishes with her usual scarlet lip and, taking in the finished product, nods firmly, picks up her bag, and goes to meet Steve.

He arrives at nearly the same time, and they take seats together in the center of the town hall meeting room.

“A good turnout,” Peggy says quietly, glancing around. “And look who’s here as well.”

Zola sits in the back of the room, quietly taking things in. She suspects that keeping abreast of town news is a part of his job. Hopefully he will be earning his salary tonight.

Most of the agenda is spent on the typical dull dealings: a proposal to change the language on parking citations is taken up and passed, followed by a bit of a tussle over the budget, then it’s on to a rousing discussion about recent changes to state alcohol legislation and the impact on local restaurants. At least the recognition ceremony for two teenagers who rescued a man drowning in the nearby lake is touching and breaks the monotony.

“And finally,” Chester Phillips, the head of the council, grumbles. He’s clearly very much past ready to adjourn. “We have an item put forward by Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers. An item very recently put forward,” he adds, shooting a glance at Peggy. The official deadline for getting onto the agenda is 24 hours in advance, but Peggy knows that the secretary, Miriam Fry, usually prints and posts things a bit early. While their proposal came in just under the deadline, the agenda had already been publicized; Peggy wanted as much of an element of surprise as she could muster to avoid sabotage.

“Good evening.” Peggy starts them off. “As many of you know, I own Top Shelf Tea and Coffee on Shield Street. I’ve been so pleased by the welcome the town has given to myself and my shop over the past several years, and I wanted to come forward tonight to raise awareness of something which has been recently affecting our local business community.”

She knows her points well after running through them with Steve for the last few nights. Without referencing notes, she smoothly and carefully explains Hydra’s background and the way their business model has caused trouble for other communities. The articles she references, entered conscientiously into the record, might be smaller pieces, but they are from reputable and reliable news outlets; Bruce Banner, the reference librarian, had helped them put together the resources with that in mind.

“Mr. Rogers and myself have received offers to purchase our businesses. We would also request that that council hear from others who have also been under recent pressure to sell.” Peggy gestures over her shoulder, where a good-sized part of the assembled crowd is standing, ready to come forward.

“Before we get to that, is there an actual proposal attached to all of this?” Alexander Pierce asks. He’s a popular, long-serving council member, distinguished and seemingly considerate, but there’s a strange hint of ice in his voice, in the blue-gray of his eyes, that makes Peggy suspect who exactly put the town on Hydra’s radar and why they seemed so certain that they would be able to work with impunity.

“Our proposal is a council resolution simply acknowledging the remarks made here today,” Steve says, the words not loud but quite firm. “It isn’t the council’s responsibility or within their authority to prevent private sales between willing parties, but we want to make certain that everyone in this town knows the coercive measures Hydra has taken in the past and will almost certainly take in the future in order to gain and maintain control of local businesses.”

He takes a breath, pushing up his glasses reflexively before he speaks. “I opened my store more recently than Ms. Carter did hers, but I’ve also felt lucky to have been able to support and be supported by this community over the past months. Moving here and opening my business has given me something I never thought I would find.” His gaze moves, for just a moment, from the council in front of them, to Peggy, who is watching from beside him. Their eyes meet so quickly she nearly wonders whether it even happened before he turns back to conclude, “I have no intention of giving up my business. And we want everyone to know that we are willing to continue fighting for however long we have to.”

“Now I—” Pierce started, but Nick Fury, a council member who rarely speaks and who Peggy knows always gets his coffee first thing in the morning to avoid running into anyone trying to discuss council issues, leans forward so his microphone picks up his words clearly.

“I’d actually like to hear from our fellow citizens, Alex,” he says, and nods for the first speaker to go ahead.

The comments last for a long while. Some people speak only briefly about being approached by Zola or other Hydra representatives, bombarded with testimonials from business owners from other towns who sold to Hydra in the past. Others have lengthy (and well documented, Peggy made sure of that) stories of escalating problems and harassment: health or building code inspectors being called and finding minor or suddenly appearing violations, delayed shipments from previously reliable vendors, spontaneous problems with heating or cooling systems.

Someone from the local paper always covers council meetings, and she’s sitting in the front row scribbling away for what will undoubtedly be a far different article than usual. But news travels fast, and as the hours march onward, more and more of their fellow townspeople squeeze into the meeting room to hear things for themselves.

Steve and Peggy expected it, but as the last of the business owners moves aside, they trade a glance seeing Arnim Zola step up to the podium.

“In my capacity as a representative of Hydra, I would like to officially demand that minutes and records of this meeting be restricted pending a defamation lawsuit which the corporation will be bringing,” he says, eyes flashing behind his glasses. The words are so practiced that Peggy feels her suspicions about the fight against Hydra in other places nearly confirmed.

“Those are a matter of public record,” Mrs. Fry says sternly. Peggy smiles. They don’t always see eye to eye, but she knew that Miriam could be relied upon to protect the integrity of the process.

Fury adds laconically, “And it will be a little difficult to put the genie back in the bottle.” He looks over everyone’s heads to the back of the room, and raises his voice to ask, “Live stream still running smoothly, Stark?”

Tony Stark, the teenaged son of the municipal head of IT, barely looks up from his phone as he gives a thumbs up. “Directly on the town website, YouTube, and Twitter, plus a few backup sites I’ve set up just in case. And I’ve been live-tweeting the whole time. First council meeting that’s ever been even close to interesting enough for me to even want to do that.” He leans back in his chair, feet up on the table and fingers typing rapidly.

The calculation is clear across Zola’s face. Leaning into the aisle so he can hear her, Peggy says quietly, “If you still manage to convince someone to sell, there’s little we can do to stop you. But you can see the town turning against the idea of you, and any of the usual tricks you try to pull will only make it worse. I doubt you’d ever be able to make a success of things here. I would cut your losses now, Mr. Zola. Everyone knows who and what you are. You can’t hide in the shadows anymore.”

Zola leaves before the resolution passes. Although they keep an eye out for him over the next weeks, they don’t see a sign of him again.

They have the other business owners over for a drink down in the event space at Steve’s shop. It was already late when the meeting finally adjourned, and it is even later once the last person - Thor, who owns the Norseman brewpub and is still laughing heartily at a story told by Luis from the electronics repair store - closes the door behind him.

“I wanted to tell Sam to take the morning off,” Steve says as they tidy things up, “but I have the feeling we’ll be even busier than usual tomorrow.”

Peggy smiles, collecting the empty bottles in a paper bag for recycling. “I think he’ll forgive you when he sees it reflected in his paycheck.”

Steve glances over the used book shelves, making sure they’re all orderly, switching a few around to keep things alphabetized. “If this keeps up, maybe I can have Nat and Wanda full time soon.” With one last glance at the shelf, he goes over and drops tiredly into one of the chairs that they have yet to fold and put away. There are plenty of other places to sit, but Peggy comes and turns a chair so she’s facing him. Their knees are nearly touching.

“I hadn’t realized quite how tense I was until the weight was removed tonight,” she says softly, just for him. “And while I know that we should stay alert and that complacency works against us, it will be such a delight to go into the shop tomorrow without feeling as if ruin was coming up on the horizon.”

“You deserve that,” Steve says, and somewhere over their work together, they’ve become comfortable enough that he already has her hand in his and she didn’t even notice until just now. “And even if they regroup fast, we’ll have a day or two to catch our breath before we start putting out resources for other communities dealing with Hydra.”

That familiar determination is back in his voice, and she realizes that so much of him is familiar now. She knows that his glasses are the last hint of the poor health which plagued him growing up, has seen pictures of his mother and recognizes where he inherited his fair hair and strong features. She has seen his tattoos and knows what he wanted to memorialize on his skin.

Looking him over, she sees that sometime after the meeting he has changed into a T-shirt that she recognizes.

“That was what you were wearing the day we met,” she says. “What made you choose it for your opening?”

He glances down. “It’s the Pigeon, from the Mo Willems series. Popular picture books, ” he explains. “I know that I can be a little intimidating for the kids, and I wanted something that would be familiar and friendly, something we could talk about together so they could get to know me and wouldn’t be as nervous.”

It’s such a simple answer, so unsurprising and considerate and right, so Steve. She frees her fingers from his so she can hold his face in her hands.

“You’re a very dear man,” she informs him, and presses her mouth to his.

Quite a while later, as Steve finally turns the lights off in his shop, finally put to rights, he asks, “Are you free again tomorrow night? I’d like to take you out somewhere that doesn’t serve sandwiches.”

“I won’t mention it at Stewart’s.” She tucks herself under his arm as they step into the cool of the street and he turns to lock up.

He laughs. “They don’t have to worry much. I’m sure we’ll be back.”

“I’m certain we will, though perhaps Thai for tomorrow,” she says thoughtfully as they walk. “But come to the shop sometime earlier, will you?” A grin is growing on her face. “I have some ideas I want to discuss about unseating Mr. Pierce at the next election that I’m not sure are proper date conversation.”

“My definition of date conversation is whatever you want to talk about,” he says, his voice never anything but honest. “But sure, I’ll come by tomorrow. I can’t get through the day without your latest matcha concoction, and I want to hear what you have planned for Pierce.” His grin is growing to match hers. “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t bet against us.”

[youaremylittlesunshine]

Eve/Villanelle Fanfic Rec List

A very very long list of my favourite Eve & Villanelle multichapter fanfics that are still in progress.

Quid Pro Quo by Fixy (E) 

Divorces are sad and expensive and time consuming, so it helps when your solicitor isn’t all that bad.

Or!

A divorce au featuring ‘I fell asleep on my arms’ Eve and business attire Barbie

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637660

Imagine Me And You (And Our Parents) by imunbreakabledude (E) 

“Eve, we are all adults here.”

“It’s hard to take that seriously when you have your hand in my pants.”

-

The chemistry between Eve and Villanelle is obvious and immediate, so it's awkward when they find out their parents are getting married.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22864576

Babysitting Grief by uncreativerabbit (M)

Set after the events of episode five. Eve is stunned when Konstantin approaches her outside a pub on a dreary London day, frantically offering her the world in return for a favour only she can do. Eve is reluctant until she realises that she is the only person in the world for the job. Struggling through both her emotions and Villanelle's, she learns about the why - why Villanelle is like she is, why she is drawn to her inexplicably, and why that bus moment actually happened

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24139228

The Long Way Home by Spayne (M) 

Villanelle is forced to take the long way home.

Eve thinks that perhaps that isn’t such a bad thing.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24943183

Twisting Vines by Kai_ROz (E) 

“You can’t be serious, Bill.”

“I’m perfectly serious. She’s one of the biggest names in the business, a positive word from her would go a long way to getting this place back on the right track.”

“I don’t want or need anything from her.”

“If you say so. But I think you’re making a mistake.”

“So be it. There will be plenty of time for me to rub her stupid, smug review into her stupid, smug face.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578872

Define Normal by Jean Genie (LetYourselfGo) (E)

How do Eve and Villanelle end up living a not-so-normal life together in a chateau in the south of France nine months after realizing that they can't walk away from one another? A lot of traveling, shopping, kissing, fucking, dancing, laughing, crying, coping, topping, bottoming, murdering, and some truly fabulous food and drink.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24889048

Specialities by villanellesgun (Teen And Up Audiences) 

Eve is an established Trauma Surgeon working at St. Thomas’ Hospital in Central London, England.

Villanelle is a second-year registrar and has transferred to St.Thomas due to an incident at another hospital.

Villanelle still hasn’t completely decided on her chosen specialty, despite the pressure from her peers and consultants, but there’s one thing she is sure of -- Eve.

And Villanelle always gets what she wants.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24766636

The Miseducation of Eve Polastri by Justanothergirl (M)

My own take on "What happens after the bridge scene."

Rating changes in Chapter 5.

Also, Villaneve is canon, y'all. Let's drink to that.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24717658

now we walk by behindthec (M)

“Stay until you hate me.” Post 3x08.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24498097

lost on you by charizona (E) 

“Eve,” Villanelle says. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” There’s a pause, then a breathless laugh. “So I waited a socially acceptable amount of time to call you.”

Eve fights a smile. “It’s been, like, five hours.”

“I am social,” Villanelle argues, “and I’m accepting it.”

OR

A very loose, very chaotic Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528724

are you bored yet? by crowdyke, Toucanna (M)

They stare at each other for a long time. Thirty seconds after the Season 3 finale, Eve and Villanelle answer the question "Where do we go from here?"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597121

Albuquerque by oksana1 (Not rated) 

“Eve,” the woman enunciated the name like it was fine art, tongue slipping around each sound with care. She had a cheshire cat smile, and she was suddenly closer, too-close, elbows propped up on the counter, inches away from Eve’s face, “so you are Eve, and you sell artifacts.”

OR

Eve sells antiques in New Mexico. Villanelle is a collector with very specific tastes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24671413

From The Same Star by almostafantasia (M)

In a world where your soulmate’s initials appear on your skin after you meet for the first time, Eve’s life gets turned upside down when the single letter ‘V’ appears on her abdomen on the same day that a senior MI6 official gets assassinated just down the road from where she works.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544438

At The Cliff's Edge by filthy_nebula (M)

Eve is living in self imposed isolation along the coast. Oksana washes up one morning after a storm. Cue uneasy domesticity, secrets lives, and confessions in the rain à la Notebook (2004).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732525

The Heat of the Moment by imunbreakabledude (M)

Olympic boxer Oksana Astankova is looking to break into MMA.

Sought-after manager Eve Polastri is looking for a brand new fighter to coach from the ground up.

They'll beat the crap out of everyone in their way.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262682

Death Wears McQueen by HenryMercury (E)

Reporting on Fashion Week isn't the investigative journalism Eve Polastri signed up for.

That is, until a runway assassination and a one night stand throw her into the path of Oksana Astankova—the unbearably hot new Editor of Villanelle Magazine.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24404530

Love at First Swipe by estvillanelle (M)

The tinder AU no one asked.

Eve's being catfished.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24451078

these mortifying ordeals by coldmackerel (M)

it only takes one summer to: retire, go on holiday, try fishing, get half-stabbed to death in the aftermath of a fallen global crime conglomerate, fake your death, get nostalgic for an ex, show up unannounced, get answers.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23364403

Two wrongs make a right by Vracs (E)

Just two morons on a mission to take down the bad guys and get in each other's pants.

No but seriously, it's a little story of give and take, hard and soft, until they finally meet somewhere in between.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24026908

Notting Hill by Wrongplaceperson (Teen And Up Audiences)

Eve Polastri is the owner of a quaint little bookstore in London.

Villanelle Astankova is a Hollywood superstar.

Villanelle lives in Beverly Hills. Eve lives in Notting Hill.

Their lives couldn't be more different

They meet when Villanelle visits Eve's bookstore one morning.

Will this meeting change their lives?

Notting Hill AU

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647626

what we deserve by lisewrites (M)

“But I deserve to be kissed nicely. I want you to kiss me nicely Eve.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24717211

You, Me and The Twelve by HardSeltzer (Teen And Up Audiences)

Eve and Villanelle are competing CEOs fighting for the biggest deal. Who will come out on top? Or will they just end up on top of each other?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361501

darkest minds by deletetheadjectives (M)

Almost two years after Rome, Eve is living a bitter life as a dish washer in London—the only job she could get without proper identification when Carolyn made sure Eve Polastri was dead to those who knew her.

Following a tip from an unexpected source, Eve learns of Villanelle’s location: working as a waitress in a diner in the Middle-of-Nowhere, USA.

And so Eve’s plans for revenge start to form…

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825711

My Darling, I Am Yours (And You Are Mine) by Trufreak89 (M)

“Shh. It’s okay.” She tenderly tucks a strand of the woman’s hair behind her ear. “I’ve got you, Eve. I’m going to look after you… You’ll see.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18965383

She's (Not) Afraid by villanellessuit (M)

Villanelle sticks by her 'no dating rule' until a certain curly-haired woman makes her a coffee on her way to work one cold morning.

or

That one where Villanelle is a rich interior designer and Eve is the owner of an unsuccessful coffee shop.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668410

and i like the way you kiss me (don’t know if i should) by taare (Teen And Up Audiences)

Having Eve this close again is intoxicating.

Eve, for her part, is looking directly at her, breathing hard, eyes wide open, closing the distance between them.

And then Eve’s lips are on hers, and her eyes are still open — Villanelle knows, because her eyes are open too — and she does not know what to make of this new sensation because how do you react when what you’ve been chasing for the better part of a year (and maybe your whole life?) finally catches up to you?

—

If Episode 3 had ended the way we all wanted it to.

I can't, I won't. by p28 (M)

POST 3x08. Sooooo not only do we get survive 3x08 but now we also have to survive until s4 so rip us clowns.

"I can't, I won't."

"Aren't you quite the romantic?"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24505006

Powerful Beyond Measure by Kai_ROz (E)

After their encounter on the bus, Villanelle knows she has the upper hand and wants to make her next move ...

OR

Villanelle is a chaotic idiot when it comes to Eve.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925631

First Comes Marriage... by melvncholymvmi (M)

'"So," Hugo asked, grinning as wide as the Cheshire cat, "how's the sex?"

"I have had better." Villanelle responded with a shrug as she stared Eve down.

"Baby, you've never had it as good as me." Eve replied, grip on the crystal tumbler tightening.

"We will see."

Fuck, she hadn't meant that the way it came out. Or had she?'

OR

The Proposal AU where Villanelle's visa expired and Eve needs her to stay.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685679

Say Something Before I Go Crazy Now by KillingVillanelle (Not rated)

"I was wondering if we could switch to weekly sessions?" Villanelle asks, biting her lip to contain a smirk.

"Why?"

"Well, with this movie and stuff. I'm worried it might stir up some stuff and you are so good at helping me. Only if you can fit it in your schedule."

"I can. Anything to help you," Eve says, not hiding the way her eyes traveled down to Villanelle's lips.

"Anything?"

Or the one where Eve is a very ethical and rule following therapist and Villanelle is her most challenging client to date.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281589

Enemies With Disregard by yotoob (Not rated)

It's probably easier for them to not be in the same room, at least for a while.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19163476

Home by emdash90 (M)

The interior design slow-burn romcom AU literally no one asked for.

OR!

Newly single and (begrudgingly) ready to mingle, Eve trudges her way through the unspectacular world of online dating as she takes on an 8-week interior design reno with Konstantin's niece at the helm.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21538177

Oceans Brawl by emdash90 (M)

When time slinked forward, glacially, endlessly, and Eve had run out of ways to keep herself distracted, her attention diverted, her thoughts desperately anchored to anyone, anything else — there she was.

Waiting to bulldoze through the delicate balance of sanity she had managed to piece together, grain by grain, since Villanelle had set her world alight with a douse of gasoline and a match tossed carelessly over her shoulder.

or

Thrown in opposite directions in the aftermath of Rome, Eve and Villanelle find their own ways to cope with the fallout. But with the Twelve knocking on both of their doors, it's only a matter of time until these two are reunited — whether they like it or not.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129578

Ghost of Murder's Past by Aerstes (M)

TAKES PLACE AFTER THE SEASON 2 FINALE SO SPOILERS BEWARE. Eve is recovering in the hospital. A familiar face begins to appear while she sleeps. I have no idea where this story is going...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19021294

If she belonged to me by songforeverystory (M)

Post Season 2. Eve is recruited as Villanelle's handler. Neither are very happy about it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19860391

Now I Don't Feel Those Kinds of Things by saltandsunscreen (M)

“Do you two know each other?” Elena asks, passing Eve a fresh cup of coffee. “You and the new lawyer, I mean.”

For a second, Eve imagines telling her everything. Saying, remember that night Niko left last year, and I thought we were really one? Well, I went out, got drunk, met her, and we fuc--

Eve can’t even make her pretend-self confess it all to Elena, not under the stark fluorescent lighting of their office. She can’t come up with a good lie, either -- a whole two seconds after seeing Villanelle again, her brain is still busy numbly cataloguing her every too-fast breath and rushed heartbeat. “Uh, I’m pretty sure we ran into each other at a conference, once?”

“Oh.” Elena pauses. “I wish I had her jacket. Her outfit is amazing.”

Eve’s smile would probably be a little less fake if she could entirely convince herself that she’s also thinking about Villanelle’s clothes, and not what’s underneath them.

But she and Niko are trying, right? So she smiles harder.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19113304