#bookstore au

[desert-feather]

Another BEAUTIFUL commission from Wisy 💖💖💖💖

From my fic A Novel Encounter!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Interest 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

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

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

The smooth jazz fills the aisle of the bookstore, a cozy warmth blowing from the vents above as you unwrap your scarf and let it hang loose from your neck. You unbutton the top of your coat, fanning yourself as the nip of winter fades. You tuck your gloves away and hike up your bag, stepping close to see the titles on the spines. The fog's finally gone from your lenses.

You have that one, oh and you already know how to crochet potholders, no you're looking for a challenge. Something different. You need new techniques if you want to keep your Etsy shop alive. You're not struggling... yet.

You pull out a book on how to crochet replicas of different plants; like a cactus or a daisy. You could do little faces on them or do a rainbow of colours. Your mind runs crazy with all sorts of alterations. You open it and flip through the pages, hiding behind the cover as you turn and lean on the shelf.

"Cute," a voice draws the book down an inch and you look down the aisle at the man facing the opposite shelf. He taps the shelf beneath the 'Gardening' sign as he smiles at you, "you know, they got a whole bunch of books about real plants down here."

You bring your brows together and furrow your nose. Who is this strange man judging you? The gall. I mean, look at him. He's a bit too old to be commenting on your interests.

"Uh, thanks, but I don't like to get dirty," you say without thinking. You're not the type to be rude but something about his tone really irks you.

You shift back to face the shelf and close the book. You slide out the other with sweater patterns. Those take so long, you haven't added those to your catalogue. You put it back and adjust your glasses as you pause and tap the book in your hand. Oh, great idea and you don't even need a pattern. You could do book covers and little bookmarks!

"You knit?" The man startles you again as he approaches.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, "crochet, but I can knit too."

"Huh, my mom does too. Tried to teach me but I'm all thumbs. I'm better with plants," he says.

You shake your head and focus on the shelf. You don't get why this guy is bugging you. On first glance, he's got at least ten years on you, maybe more. And why the heck is he bringing up his mom? You don't know her.

"Look, I hope I didn't come off rude, I was just... curious. I've never seen anyone knit a cactus before," he puts his hand on the top shelf.

"Crochet," you correct him again, keeping your chin set ahead of you.

"Yeah, crochet," he chuckles, "sorry, I'm a bit ignorant.”

You bite your tongue. You've heard of older men being a bit much but have lucked out in not being bothered by them. Until that moment.

“Cole,” he offers as he pulls his hand off the shelf, holding it out.

You don't even look. You're too nervous and honestly, annoyed. You want him to go away.

You count your losses. You don't need to splurge on a pile of books. One is fine, you can see if there's anything new on Pinterest.

You turn on your heel and head down the aisle, away from him. You hear him huff as you turn down the next, tempted to stop and look at the Tarot but wanting to get far away. You could probably hide out in the non-fiction section until he evacuates.

As you get to the end of that aisle, you find the book crushed against your front. You bounce off another person and stumble back. You look up at the stranger, Cole. He puts his hands up defenseless and grins.

“Oops, sorry, we keep running into each other.”

“Uh, alright,” you try to sidestep him but he does the same. You both move in the same pattern, back and forth, getting in each other's way, “okay, okay, just stay still.”

He stops and stares with wide eyes. You slowly sidle by, watching him to make sure he doesn't try anything. This is getting too weird for your liking.

You twirl and swiftly march away, hugging the book tight as you try not to trip in your hurry. You're too exposed at the checkout line so you surpass it and flee towards the comic book section. If that doesn't work, the bathrooms are right behind that.

You finally look back again as you get to the graphic novels. You can only see shelves. You're alone in the aisle, grumbling to yourself in agitation. “Creep.”

You take your time wandering, thinking maybe you might be able to get into Batman as you admire the art on each cover. Your adrenaline cools and you feel a bit less addled.

You sneak around the perimeter of the store and find your way back to the craft section. He's gone. Hopefully he went back home to his sad plants.

It's difficult to shake your unease. You pick out some of the needles they have hung with other small accessories and head to the till.

You join the line, your mind already trying to decide what you want to order at the cafe. As you step up, just about to get your turn at the counter, you feel a nudge, a silty voice rolling into you.

“Uh, excuse me,” the timbre is all too familiar.

“Really, dude,” you snap around, “take a hint.”

“You dropped your gloves.”

He holds up your wadded gloves and you cringe. You force a smile and snatch them away. “Thanks,” you grit out.

“Yeah, just being a nice guy,” he shrugs, “trust me, I got the hint.”

He steps back on his heel and turns his attention to the table of pens and other stationary that separate the tills from the rest of the store. You sniff and roll your eyes, quickly flitting up to checkout. The sooner you're gone, the better.

[loserharrington]

redrawing some old art. ronance bookstore au :)

[ghost-n-butteredtoast]

Dimitrescu Books

Chapter 43 <<Link

1 Dimi, 2 Dimi, 3 Dimitrescu Girls

Explicit: 18+ - only suitable for adults

Artist: Unknown (Let me know if you know their username/site)

"...I protested at first, adamant on doing it alone. Yes, my father had assisted me financially, but I had made my bed, and I was determined to lie in it! And though it was a king size, it became rather small when three pairs of little legs and arms joined my six-foot-three frame.”

You erupted with laughter, both at her unexpected wit and the image of her being crammed between all these little girls. It was a sweet image, one you wished you could have been present for.

[camzkoa]

fengqing bookstore au, but with my nonexistent sense of humor

[olsenmyolsen]

A Night In The City

master list

dark master list

No Powers AU (Female Reader X Yelena Belova)

Summary: When a blonde excited to explore New York comes into your place of work, you end up spending a night you'll never forget.

Word Count: 5.4K

Content: Sadness, Mentions of Suicide, Sucidial Actions, Angst, Happy Ending, Kissing ;)

You were tired.

Tired of your job.

Tired of the big city.

Tired of not being enough.

Tired of liv-... well, everything.

You missed when you didn't feel this way, but times change. You guessed you missed the time to change, too.

So, as you logged another book into the computer for your boss Agatha, you briefly wondered what to have for dinner.

If you even felt like eating by the time you got home...

The bell ringing above the door broke you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see blonde braids surf past a bookshelf and to you.

That's when you saw her face.

Bright green eyes, small pink lips, and bushy eyebrows. Slightly chubby cheeks were a bonus to see. "Hello!" She said in a heavy accented voice as her body hit the counter. "I'm looking for a book about New York City!"

You looked at her like she was joking, but after a moment of her just staring at you, you realized she was not. "Oh." You said. "Umm, you're in the city now... but what kind of book are you looking for?" You asked.

The woman thought before it looked like she got an idea. "Any books on restaurants or parks!?" You nodded and started typing into your computer. "Let me just make sure we have any."

You knew you did.

"Okay." She said as she craned her neck to see what you were doing. "That's a lot of books." She commented when you clicked the page. You looked at her. "Yeah... you're looking for a book about the millions of restaurants in this city."

You didn't mean to sound rude, but as the words left your mouth, you knew exactly how you sounded.

The blonde took a step back with her mouth dropped. "Jeez, I hope everyone isn't as rude as you!" Her voice sounded like you actually hurt her feelings. "I'm sorry!" You started apologizing as the blonde frowned. "I didn't mean it that way!" You went to talk more, but you were cut off.

"What way did you mean it then!" She looked pitiful. You sighed and collected your thoughts. "I mean... New Yorks a big place..." She nodded. "I know that." She said. "And as opposed to looking at hundreds of books about the restaurants and parks that'll be way too crowded or too expensive, the best way to experience it all is by just going out, walking in the city. Taking the subway to the Upper West Side or even Brooklyn. That's a way to get the best kind of food."

The blonde was hanging on your every word as you spoke about the city you used to find passion in.

"Plus, I'm sure you'll have a great time." You added before your smile faded. But the blonde saw it. She took a closer step to the counter. "Okay." She said.

"Okay?" You asked.

"Show me." The blonde smiled and rested her arms on the counter before you. "Take me around the city."

"Uhh, I- what?" Did she say what you thought she said?

"I want you to take me around the city." She said without an ounce of a joke hidden in her words. Leaving you lost to find any. "I-I can't do that.." You said, causing the woman across from you to tilt her head. "I'm working, and I- I don't even know you."

The blonde made a flat smile with her lips before extending her hand. "Well, hi, I'm Yelena. Yelena Belova." She waited for you to take it until you did. Cautiously. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You shook her hand and took note of the black fingernail polish she was wearing.

"There, now we know each other. How much longer do you have to work?" Yelena whined as her hands dropped back onto the counter.

You peered over to the computer and looked at the upper right corner of the screen. "It still have over an hour, but-" Yelena groaned. "Fine. Give me a book, and I'll wait."

As Yelena looked at you with her pretty green eyes, you couldn't find the words to say that you couldn't do it.

Your mind was blank.

"You're really serious, huh?" You asked, making Yelena scoff. "Of course."

Another second passed between the two of you before you nodded and pointed Yelena in the direction of some sapphic novels you loved to kill her time.

As you watched her walk away, you found yourself looking down her backside to her ripped jeans and black boots.

Once she disappeared down an aisle, you were alone again with your thoughts. But this time, all you could think was, "What did I just agree to?"

_

Once Yelena sat down in a chair made for little kids, she began reading a book from the selection you pointed to earlier.

Yelena quickly found herself swept up in the details of a woman returning to her hometown for a job only to discover that her former rival was now her new boss.

It was cheesy and short, but Yelena couldn't get enough.

Except for when she did stop reading to look up and see you still working from time to time.

Yelena took notice of the things you did. How you acted. How often you pushed your hair back behind your ears. She quickly liked you and was in dire need of someone new. A friend, so to say. But she could tell you were somewhat guarded.

Troubled wasn't the correct word, but Yelena could see it.

It was quiet the last hour you worked. No other Yelena's came in. Leaving you to finish up logging the stack Agatha wanted done. And yet. Every so often, your eyes drifted back to the blonde in the green froggy chair. Her eyes were glued to the words she was reading, and you couldn't help but smile at how she bit her lip as she concentrated.

But who was she?

You pulled your gaze away and again tried to think of an excuse to get yourself out of what the rest of the night would bring, but you couldn't.

It was almost like your heart was on its last line. Giving you nothing so you'd jump headfirst into this opportunity.

It wanted you to keep going.

"Alright!" Agatha came out from her office in the back. Walking straight past Yelena. "Closing time, hon!" She said to you as she grabbed the stack of books and moved them elsewhere.

Yelena got up from her spot, pushed the froggy chair in, and started walking towards the two of you.

"So, any plans for the next two days?" Agatha always asked the same question, even if you both knew the answer. Except this time, when you went to answer, Yelena spoke for you. "Actually-"

"Oh my God!" Agatha screamed and turned around with her hand over her heart. "Where did you come from!?" Agatha exclaimed as she came down from her fright.

Yelena proceeded to look from her to you and back to the kids corner. "From over there." She pointed. "I was just reading." She held up a book you were very familiar with.

Agatha, of course, took notice of that.

"Ah, looks like you picked up one of Y/N's guilty pleasures." Yelena looked at you. "Really?!" She asked you as you still stood behind the counter. "Uhh yeah." You answered honestly.

Yelena smiled wide enough that her dimples showed, and you felt something in your stomach that you had not felt in a very, very long time.

"Well, I'd like to get it." Agatha quickly wrapped an arm around Yelena and pulled her to the counter. Yelena, not looking too happy about this, let it happen. "Oh, of course, dear!" Agatha said, taking the book from her hand and into yours. "Y/N could also probably show you a lot more that she loves."

You picked up on Agatha's secret message.

Yelena did not.

"Actually, Y/N is showing me all around the city tonight!" Yelena smiled with glee.

Meanwhile, Agatha turned her head to you with a grin. "Is she now?" She asked a clueless Yelena. "Yep," Yelena said as she went to pay for the book, but Agatha stopped her. "Oh, here, take it!" She put the book into a bag and quickly gave it to Yelena. "A friend of Y/N's is a friend of mine. Especially a special one like you." She not so slyly said as you clocked out and grabbed your bag from the floor.

"Oh, thank you!" Yelena seemed genuinely grateful for the book and watched as you came around the counter.

Yelena's eyes quickly scanned your black vans and high-waisted jeans. Traveling up, she could see the entire band t-shirt underneath the open brown jacket you just threw on.

When Yelena's eyes met yours, you both smiled.

"Okay, well, you two, be safe and have fun!" Agatha said as she practically shoved the two of you out the door. "Wear protection." She whispered into your ear before closing the door and locking it.

You rubbed your ear and did your best to forget about her joke; all the while, Yelena just looked at you as you both started walking.

"So where to first!"

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You asked, confusing Yelena. "Well, of course. Do you not? You agreed, remember?" She said, making you nod. "Yes, I know it's just..."

"It's just what?" Yelena asked as you stopped walking and faced her.

"It's just we don't know each other." Yelena rolled her eyes and started walking away, knowing you'd follow. And you did. "Y/N Y/L/N, we already went over this. We shook hands. We know each other now. Okay?" She turned her head. "Now get we just hang out and be friends."

You stopped dead in your tracks.

Hang out and be friends.

That sounded wonderful.

You smiled. Like a real smile. And started walking again. "Yeah. You're right. That sounds good."

"Of course I'm right," Yelena responded, making you laugh. She laughed too because she was surprised by your laugh.

You two continued your walk in silence. The only thing breaking it up was the plastic bag with her book hitting Yelena's leg every once in a while.

"Here."

"No, it's mine." She pulled the bag away from you.

"Yes, I know that. I was going to put it in my bag so you're not carrying it the whole time." You explained. Yelena just looked at you and extended her hand with the handle of the bag wrapped around her palm. "Sorry." She said.

"You don't need to apologize." You said in a softer tone as you took the bag. "I just... I didn't want your arms to get tired."

Yelena watched you push your hair behind your ears for what must've been the hundredth time that night.

"I'm sorry if this is rude..." You started as you and Yelena turned down a new block. "But where are you from originally?" You grabbed onto the straps of your book bag and waited for Yelena's answer. "Russia." She said.

Ah. That made sense.

"How long did you live there?"

Yelena thought about her answer. "We lived there when I was a kid, then came to America before going back. What about you?" She asked, not wanting to talk more about it.

"All over the United States. My dad moved us around a lot." You remember your childhood, and not many happy moments come to mind. "Do you like it here?" She asked, gesturing to the city as you passed by a fat rat eating a pizza.

"Sometimes." You said and quickly moved on. "What about you? Is it your first time here? I mean, I assume so, but..." You trailed off as Yelena started to talk. "I've been here a couple of times. But it's always been for meetings for work, so I never got to explore and stuff." Yelena said, and you watched the way her eyes danced across the sky and the bright lights of skyscrapers getting closer and closer. "But this time, I don't have work. My sister was planning on taking me around, but she ended up being busy."

That was new info. "Oh, you have a sister!? Older or younger?"

"Older," Yelena said. "Her name's Natasha. She lives not far from your shop."

You made a note of that. "Oh, cool! Do you think she's ever been by the shop?" You asked, wondering if you had seen someone that looked like Yelena before.

But you think you would have remembered if you had.

Yelena shakes her head. "Probably not." You looked from Yelena's side profile to the sidewalk before looking back. You loved her earrings. Slowly, your eyes moved from the earrings to her neck. You watched the way her skin disappeared under her top. "She just got a girlfriend," Yelena said, breaking you from your thoughts. "So I thought I'd explore the city by myself..." Yelena's eyes meet yours. "Until I met you."

There it was again. That long dormant feeling in your stomach being broken by a fluttering.

"It hasn't been bad so far." She then added, making you smile. "Thanks." You shook your head and looked up at the street signs, figuring out the best place to go, when Yelena ran ahead of you to the other side of the street—not paying attention to the street lights or cars that slammed on their breaks.

"I want one!" She yelled back to you, making you realize what she ran to.

A pretzel cart.

"At least it's not a hot dog cart," you thought as you quickly ran to her. Sending a flat smile to the angry cab driver, Yelena pissed off. "Here." Yelena handed you a hot pretzel before taking the cups of mustard and cheese. "It smells so good!" She said as you two said bye to the man pedaling the cart.

And without warning, Yelena bit into the pretzel still in your hand. Luckily, she wasn't anywhere near your finger. "Oh, my gofh." Her words muffled by the pretzel. "If ho goof!" You nodded to her and smiled as pieces of salt fell from her lips.

Yelena took your eyes off of her lips by pushing the pretzel up closer to your mouth.

You couldn't remember the last time you had a hot pretzel or one from a cart on the street. But one look to Yelena and her big eyes made you cave.

You loved it.

"Good, right?!" Yelena said after she swallowed but not before tearing another piece to dip into the cheese sauce. You nodded. "Bery goof!"

Yelena laughed as her body brushed up against yours, as the two of you found yourselves passing by a group of teens making music from buckets and their own mouths.

As you watched with a group of other people, Yelena stole glances to you like she had at the bookstore. She found something new every time she looked your way. Her favorite discovery was two moles on the left side of your neck.

She smiled as she thought about drawing a curved line underneath them to make a smile.

Because that's another thing Yelena discovered.

She liked seeing you smile.

She was glad she met you tonight.

Moments like these blossomed as you took Yelena into Times Square. She made you take her to an American coffee shop, aka Dunkin, before you took pictures of her in front of the giant screens and crazy stores that lined the streets.

And when you weren't looking, she made sure to take some of you.

For you.

If you wanted!

Regardless, you took her to the financial district and then to a place where the noise of the city seemed to stop, past the memorial and to the tip of New York.

"What do you mean it doesn't light up?" Yelena tilted her head before looking back to the Statue of Liberty. You laughed as Yelena shook her head. "She has a torch! It should light up!" You didn't say anything but laugh because, honestly, you agreed with her. How cool would it be if the torch was on fire?! "Still cool, though," Yelena said before turning around.

After that, Yelena and you found yourselves at a bar you've never been to after exiting the subway at a random stop.

What turned into you showing Yelena around turned into a random exploration of the city.

Something you would normally advise against, but you were having fun and smiling more in a couple of hours than you had in a long time.

To Yelena, she was having a blast and didn't want the night to end.

So, drink after drink and shot after shot, you and Yelena danced to whatever the DJ played and ate greasy New York Pizza while watching guys shoot their shot and miss horribly from the comfort of a booth.

"Oh, it's my Sestra!" Yelena picked up the phone with a bubbly glee before scooting closer to you and answering the FaceTime, not caring about the loud bar in the background.

Her face almost touching yours.

You smiled as you looked at your two faces in the top left-hand corner before focusing on the person filling the giant frame.

"Yelena, where- Oh?!!" A confused-looking redhead emerged from the darkness of the screen before turning on a light next to them.

It's clear that they were sleeping.

And Yelena called them. Not the other way around.

"Yelena, who are you with!?" Yelena's sister questioned as she looked from her sister to you. "Who are you and where are you!?! It's so loud!"

You went to open your mouth, but Yelena stopped you by pulling the phone to be in front of her. "Natasha! This is Y/N! She's sweet, so don't be such a grump!" Yelena scoffed before sipping on her red cocktail.

You scooted closer to try and listen, but it was challenging due to the throwback 2000s that was playing.

But your ears did catch: "I know she's pretty!"

You turned away and smiled at that before picking up your drink.

"Oh my gosh! Go to bed! Bye!!- yes, I love you too!" Was what you heard when you decided to start listening again.

"Sisters can be so annoying," Yelena said as she shook her head. "She seems to love you though." Your drunk mind said, making Yelena turn to you. "Well, of course. I'm the best." Her face broke out into a grin that made you smile wide. "And yes, I love her." She took another sip while not so subtlety scooting closer to you. "Apparently, she was sleeping." Yelena rolls her eyes.

"So the date went well?" You rested your head on your hand and gave Yelena your full attention.

Yelena's eyes ran up your arm. Past your small stick and poke tattoo that you talked about briefly when you walked through a park that she couldn't remember the name of. And up to your fingers, where she glanced over the gold ring you bought for yourself two years ago. Past your unpainted nails until she landed on your face.

Your eyes.

Yelena nodded. "I think she had an amazing night."

_

It wasn't an easy trip back home.

But somehow, you and Yelena made it to your place safely.

Okay. You don't know how you made it to your place safely.

Yelena knows it's because she wasn't as drunk as you and could walk straight and could sing the real version of American Pie.

Whereas, on the train ride to your stop, you tried to convince Yelena that the Weird Al Yankovic Star Wars Parody was the real version.

But Yelena didn't know what Star Wars was and knew the original song by Don McLean by heart.

After Yelena set you down on the couch, she quickly looked around your place. It wasn't far from Natasha's due to the proximity to the bookstore.

Yelena thought your space was cute, but it wasn't decorated very well. In fact, Yelena found it interesting.

Odd. Would be another word for it.

She discovered most of your belongings were in boxes labeled to different names and places.

She walked to the fridge and grabbed a cold water bottle, knowing this would help sober you up more than the cool air had helped so far.

"Here." Yelena handed you the bottle as she crouched down in front of you. You took the water without a problem and opened it. Chugging it like it would be the last time.

"Thank you." You said into the air of feet between the two of you. "You're welcome," Yelena said back before she moved to sit next to you. You watched her the whole time.

In fact, the whole night, it became harder to keep your eyes off of her.

Maybe it was the drinks.

Maybe it wasn't.

"I had a great time." You said, making Yelena turn to you. She could smell the alcohol still dancing on your tongue, but you could smell hers. So it didn't really matter. "I did, too!" Yelena smiled. "Thank you." She said, making up shake your head the tiniest bit. "No, Yelena. Thank you."

It was hard to see because of how dim the lights behind you were, but you could've swore you saw Yelena's cheeks turn pink.

Yelena wanted to lean into you. She wanted to take this leap. But she couldn't. She didn't want to jeopardize anything. So, instead, she turned away from you.

You who wouldn't have said no. You who would've kissed her back and savored her taste. You who, if Yelena was going to be your last, you wanted to make it count.

But she turned away.

She looked at the book on your coffee table and recognized it immediately.

The book from your job. The book Agatha gave her.

"Oh wow! You really do love it!" Yelena leaned forward and picked it up. "Oh, I do more than love it." You said, acting coy. Confusing Yelena. "What do you mean?" With your foot, you pointed to a book near your bedroom door. Yelena got up and stood in front of it. "Nothings going to jump out and get me right?" She asked like a scared kid making you laugh. "It's safe. I promise."

Yelena took you by your word and opened the box. Inside were more copies of the book. Brand new.

You wrote it.

Yelena looked up at you with a fresh copy in hand. "You're Emily Hornberg?!" She said as she made her way in front of you.

You nodded. "I am."

Yelena froze as she held the hardcover in her hand. "Why aren't these everywhere?! It's great!" She asked questions and wanted to ask many others, but you held up your hand and leaned up from the back of your couch. "No one bought them." You took the book from her hand.

The touch of your fingers on her skin made her burn with pleasure.

"I would," Yelena said.

You looked up at her and her puppy dog eyes. "Take them."

"The whole box?"

You nodded.

Yelena waited for the joke to end, but you just looked at her until the room's silence continued for too long. And when your eyes darted away, that's when Yelena took a look around the room one more time.

Boxes of your things. Envelopes on top. No personal pictures throw about. Your work- a story the two of you loved waiting to be given away.

It dawned on her.

Yelena's eyes found the top of your head. "No." She said as tears slowly filled her eyes. "Please..." She said when you didn't look up, instead re-reading the back of the book repeatedly.

Yelena wanted you to look at her to see if this was really your plan. She reached forward and grabbed the book from your hand with ease and threw it into your bedroom door. You jumped and looked up.

Tears were in your eyes, too.

"Y/N..." Yelena said as she crouched in front of you, her voice the opposite of her previous action. Soft. "Yelena..." Your voice cracked as tears slipped down your cheek.

This time, Yelena went with her gut as she wrapped her arms around you, holding you close and letting you sob into her shoulder.

Apologies and a bunch of mind-twisting truths spilled from you as Yelena did nothing but hold you close and whisper into your ear about how much you changed her life tonight.

_

You watched as Diane, a mom of two daughters, talked about a night recently when her oldest asked them where their daddy had gone.

You held back the tears in your throat as you couldn't help but picture if that had been you people asked questions about. If you weren't sitting in a metal chair, that did shit for your back.

When Diane was finished, the time had hit six o'clock, meaning that group was over.

As people filed out, you hung back to stack the chairs with the leader, Lizzie—a thrifty-something brunette who had green eyes that reminded you of another.

"Any plans this weekend?" She asked to break up, the only sound being the clanking of the chairs. You shrugged. "Maybe go to the beach." Lizzie nodded. "And the writing?" She asked. "Has that been going well?"

You stopped as you put up the last chair.

"If you want to save it for group, we can." She said as she placed a hand on your arm. You shook your head. "It's fine." Lizzie nodded with an understanding smile. "I just have this one idea about a character. But... I don't know." Lizzie patted your arm before she pulled her hand away. "Well, I think it sounds great. Something that you should keep exploring."

You nodded, knowing she was right. Like always. It was kind of annoying but in a fun way.

"See you Monday?" She asked as you walked to the exit. "Same time." You replied, making Lizzie send you a thumbs up.

You took one last look at her green eyes before leaving through the double door. Immediately, you were attacked by someone you had not been expecting. "Jesus, Agatha! What the fuck!" You shouted at your friend and boss. "Gotcha!" She winked and pulled you close.

"What are you doing here?" You asked as she let you go. "Saving you from taking the subway, hon." She replied as she rounded her car. "You coming?" She asked, knowing that she wouldn't take no for an answer.

You followed.

"You know..." You said as Agatha pulled out of her illegal parking spot. "You don't have to keep picking me up every Friday. I'll be fine."

"I know." She replied. "I want to." You nodded and let your defense down. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She said as she hit the CD button. "Besides, I want to show you a display I was working on today."

You looked over at Agatha. "Okay." You said before tilting your head. "It's not another Collen Hoover display because I swear to Go-" Agatha stopped you. "That was a prank one time!!" You rolled your eyes. "One too many." You mumble, making Agatha slap your arm.

The drive wasn't long, but it was long enough where your mind kept floating back to Yelena, how she held you night and stayed by your side for the weeks that followed. How you struggled and fought with your own mind and body. The good days and bad. The days that became worse.

She was there.

But it wasn't becoming easy for the blonde. How were you to know that Yelena had been pushing work off for a month after your first night together? How she wanted to protect you. How she stayed up shopping your book around to different publishers for hours after you fell asleep next to her.

Or even how she didn't hear your confessions of more fall from your lips because she had fallen asleep as you laid on her chest.

"How's Yelena?" As if Agatha could sense where your thoughts had gone, she asked a question to make you frown. "She was gone this morning." You replied, making Agatha immediately take her eyes off the road to look at you. "She what!"

"10 and 2!" You shouted. Once the car was not going to crash, you looked over at the older woman. "Yeah, she was gone this morning, and all of my calls and texts haven't been answered." You looked down at your phone and back to Agatha. "Did I do something wrong?" You asked.

"No." Agatha instantly replied. "You did nothing wrong. Besides. Let's not jump to any conclusions she maybe got busy with her sister or something."

The thought of texting Natasha had crossed your mind, but a part of you was scared, and you didn't want to have someone else worry about your dangerous thoughts.

"Alright. Let's pop in quickly, and then I'll walk you home." Agatha said as she parked the car and threw off her seatbelt. Excited to show you the new display. You follow suit at about less than half the excitement.

Agatha waited at the front door and let you go in first, but you stopped in the open doorway when you lifted your eyes. "Go!" Agatha pushed you in as you froze, staring at Yelena.

Agatha quickly followed in and locked the door behind herself.

Yelena stared back at you with a smile. "Come here." Yelena quietly said with an outstretched hand.

"Where were you?" You asked with your voice not as gentle. "In Jersey," Yelena replied, making you tilt your head as you took steps closer as you knew she wasn't lying.

You went to ask a million more questions, but Yelena surprised you by taking steps forward to grab your hand in hers. "I'm sorry I ignored you today. But I promise Y/N Y/L/N I'll never do that again." You looked into her green eyes and could feel the love. "I just want to surprise you."

"Surprise me?"

Yelena hated surprises, so this intrigued you more.

She nodded with a big grin before biting her bottom lip and turning around. Yelena pulled you to the spinning book display.

"That's my book..." You said. Yelena watched your eyes dance across the multiple copies. "It says my name. My real name..." You watched Yelena's hands pick up a copy and hand it to you.

With the spine facing you.

At the bottom of the spine, it had a publishing house logo.

Your mouth moved up and down as your emotions threatened to spill out. Yelena could see it, too. "Here." Her voice was light and soft as she took your hand and moved it to the back of the book.

Inside was a picture that Yelena had taken of your first night together. It's you standing at the bottom of the red stairs in Times Square, looking up. Yelena couldn't help it as you looked beautiful. But Yelena's favorite part of the picture is that you could see your two moles.

And on the inside of this copy, Yelena drew the tiniest line underneath them.

A smile.

"Yelena..." You swallowed a sob as you looked up to her. "Detka." She responded as you still had no idea what it meant. She saw the tears in your eyes and brought her hand to your cheek. "You did this for me?" You asked, forcing a laugh from Yelena.

"It's only because I love you."

That broke you.

You collapsed into her arms as Yelena kissed the sides of your face and head. "I lobe yov too!" Yelena's shoulder muffled your declaration.

But she heard you and smiled.

"I'm proud of you," Yelena whispered into your ear. "Thank you." You whispered back, only to earn a shake of the head. "You don't need to thank me for something that's honest and easy. You did all the hard work." You looked up at her. "I'll be here," Yelena said.

"I'm happy you came in here that night."

"Me too."

As your lips pressed against hers in a passionate kiss, Agatha adverted her eyes and found herself being unwanted at this moment.

Meanwhile, as you and Yelena separated from one another, you both couldn't help but think how different your lives would be if Yelena hadn't stepped into this shop...

But two years later, as you found yourselves at a party celebrating your second book about a hot blonde female spy, Yelena held a box in her pocket.

Happy that she'd never have to know any other life besides this one.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Roo's Bookstore AU

A collection of drabbles that intersect at the same bookstore.

CLICK HERE TO VIEW MASTERLIST

[childotkw]

You know what I would love to know Tom's POV when he first saw Harry in his errant outfit, whithout his big sweater in the Bookstore Au and how his brain went "Shoulders. Arms" like Tom for the first time actually got his hormones acting up like full on raging

Tom, the first time he sees Harry in what his employer casually refers to as his ‘errand outfit’, very nearly swallows his tongue.

It’s because of the shock, of course.

Nothing else.

He’s never seen Harry in form-fitting clothes before, and had grown accustomed to those wore, baggy sweaters. To suddenly turn around and be confronted with Harry wearing a tight black shirt, dark pants that hugged his thighs, armed to the teeth…

It was just a surprise is all.

It had nothing to do with the toned muscles of his forearms, or the exposed skin of his biceps, or even the array of small scars that littered that pale flesh - each a mark that whispered of battle, of war, of a violent lifestyle and fights won because Harry was here and had survived and oh how Tom wanted -

But then Harry was turning to him, oblivious to the way Tom’s eyes were feasting, and asked for his pouch of money because Tom managed the accounts now (and how he had almost driven his fist through the wall when he saw how rich this asshole was, and was now cursed with the knowledge that Harry chose to dress like a penniless fool deliberately).

Tom hands it over without a word, his mouth oddly dry, and it only got drier when Harry gave him an absent-minded smile that lit his eyes and -

Fuck.

Fuck.

[klayr-de-gall]

Day 21 - Bookstore

Secret Dates and Sunshine

-

As always, all entries for this week (Day 27 to Day 20) can be found on my Patreon soon!

[Social Media and Patreon]

Masterlis

[bunnyswritings]

A few Bookshop AU ideas

A works at a small hole-in-the-wall bookstore, where they meet B one day, a new customer who just moved to this part of town. They bond over their shared love of books. But both are unaware that B has actually moved into the apartment unit opposite A, and that they were already neighbours from the get-go. (Bonus: B is an actually the author of A's favourite book series; overtime, B realises that A has been a huge fan of their books for years, but tries to keep his identity a secret.)

A works in a book subscription service where subscribers are linked up with an employee for personalised book recommendations, based on factors like personality traits, TV show / movie preferences, hobbies etc. B joins as a subscriber, and A and B communicate with each other through email to find out B's book genre preferences. This emailing back and forth goes on; it starts off as once a month but becomes more frequent along with their growing bond. One day, A asks B out for a date to a book / writing exhibition.

A is a writer who has suffered from writer's block for months, but finds inspiration in B, a bookshop owner whom he ultimately falls in love with. B teaches A how to let loose a little, and take things as they come. A eventually bases his next book on their journey and love story, and surprises B with the first copy of their published book.

A is a doctor with a huge love for reading, and intends to attend a fan-sign event with their favourite author. Unfortunately, A runs late on the event day due to an emergency at work, and only makes it at the last minute. To A's dismay, however, B takes the last remaining spot for the fan-sign, making A upset as they leave in a huff. B senses A disappointment, and runs after A to gift them the signed copy of the book.

A discovers B in A's usual spot at the bookstore, one that they have been going to every week without fail, for the past year.

[violettduchess]

I am so in love with your Comte domestic au, I have read it so many times! What about a continuation for au week? It would have to be the "free space day," so if you have something in mind, obviously disregard this. But what about more domestic with Comte and his family spending time together? Or maybe for the soul mate au, it could take place before your other au fic, where Comte finds his soul mate? Oooh, or it could still be soul mates, but the kids are grown, and he's reflecting on big moments they've spent together?

Anyway... obviously, just delete this if you're not taking requests anymore or if you don't wanna use them. Sorry this got so long.

A/N: Hello anon! Here you go! This is a Soulmate au explaining how Comte met the mother of his children from this Domestic Bliss au from last years event! (and to the anon who asked for Comte and Bookstore au and the anon who asked for Comte and Coffee shop au....I combined them all 💜)

An entry for @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady 's Different Universe Same Love CCC

Comte x female reader

WC: 1349

Inked into the skin of your right shoulder, your black and white tree tattoo reaches towards the sky with its bare, spindly branches that echo the gangling shape of spider legs. You chose the image after going for a walk on a stark winter's morning. Something about it resonated with you, echoing the vacuity of your lonely heart.

You’re shelving the latest bloodsucking Young Adult novel, breathing in that delectable new paper smell, when a voice rich as caramel, interrupts, asking if you could please direct him towards the foreign literature. You turn to find yourself looking into arresting, honey-colored eyes set in a face that jerks your heart awake from its lonesome stasis. It begins beating a lively, almost frantic rhythm in your chest.

You give him directions even as you try to fit all the pieces of this beautiful man together in your mind: wavy dark blond hair, slanted cheekbones, lips that smile easily and with such warmth. He thanks you but doesn’t move. Neither do you. The moment your eyes met, something took its first breath, something cocooned deep in the chambers of your hearts and sparked to life by your connection, like the fertile meeting of sunlight and water. 

A few minutes later you have a date to meet for coffee.

It feels so much larger than it sounds. 

That night, as you lay in bed, dreams inhabited by a man with desert eyes, your tattoo changes. The branches are peppered with small, newborn leaves the color of limes. Fragile. Delicate. Hopeful.

The coffee shop is small, a hidden gem tucked into a side street you’ve never ventured down. You arrive too early, a habit you usually pride yourself on but now is causing waves of anxiety to rush through you. Will you look too eager? Who cares because it is truth. You are eager. You are so very eager to see Comte again.

And then, as if responding to the siren call of your longing, he appears in the doorway, gilded in sunlight. He looks damn near angelic as he enters the shop, a place that suddenly seems so mundane with its walls covered in glossy photos of coffee beans and faded tile floor. 

He joins you, ordering tea, so much more civilized than your giant cappuccino topped with cinnamon and chocolate dust. Your eyes meet his and you flush, looking away. What now? Panic rears its ugly head, trampling the excited beat of your heart into the ground.

“Is that the latest X. Sycamore novel?” He notices what you have laying casually on the table by your drink, the beautiful indigo cover and gold lettering. It may be old-fashioned but you are a lover of books you can wrap your hands around, covers you can touch. Someone who has a tactile love of words. You nod. “Do you like her work?” In answer he reaches behind him, into the pocket of his beautifully-tailored beige coat and pulls out the exact same book.

From there it’s easy. So easy. One cappuccino becomes two. One cup of tea multiples like flower buds in spring time. Conversation flows like a current between you, rife with warmth and crackling with soft electricity. You decide you can’t pinpoint the exact color of his eyes because they are always changing. The brightness of Goldenrod when he is happy, dark as pyrite when he’s contemplating, animated as the sun’s shimmering caress of the sea when excited. You learn all his facial expressions and soak in the sound of his voice, burying them deep inside your heart to recall at any time.

When he checks his wristwatch and sighs, you sense your time together nearing its end. You stand abruptly, a motion spurred by the wild desire to beg him to stay and the need to act as though you are perfectly fine with him leaving. Unfortunately you knock against the table, sending your half-full cappuccino toppling just as he’s gathering his coat. Your heart, so light and breezy, turns to stone like a gargoyle in sunlight, sinking down into the twisting pit of your stomach. The stain across the expensive wool looks garish, something out of a horror movie.

At first he refuses your offer to pay for the dry cleaning but you are insistent and he relents. You feel oddly giddy. If the price of seeing him again is a cleaning a soiled coat, then you are willing to pay it. Gladly.

That night, your tree changes yet again. The branches are fuller, anointed in thick, lustrous green. Leaves unfurl themselves towards an invisible sun, towards a welcoming sky.

You hold the freshly cleaned jacket as if it is a child in your arms, tenderly so as not to wrinkle it. The garment bag is a soft blue, a stark contrast to the dark, rich colors of the mansion you find yourself walking through. If elegance were to fashion itself into a home, this would be it. Your heels click across the polished wood as the butler leads you to where Comte is waiting for you. His library.

The garment bag is removed from your arms and he is speaking in that sonorous voice as he greets you but you are not listening. Your mind is trying to soak in the sight of the shelves, rows and rows of shelves, towering above you to meet the breathtaking molded ceiling. Surely this is heaven. Surely he is its keeper.

His hand on your shoulder steadies you, brings you back down to earth, to his warm gaze and the scent of sandalwood. Would you like a tour? You nod and his hand slips down until it takes yours, gentle at first, questioning. You tighten your grip, wordlessly telling him yes, this is ok. Yes you want this. His exhale of relief is audible. 

“Let’s begin over here, with Molière.”

That night, your tree has added hundreds of tiny buds clustered throughout its green branches. Each flower bud a tiny pink universe waiting to be born.

He invites you to the cinema where you hold his hand, fingers interlaced as you lose yourselves in the story playing across the screen. The dream ends when the lights come on, scattering the wispy remnants of magic the movie spun around its audience.

You step out of the theater, hands still clasped together and stop as you notice the light haze of rain that has started falling. You glance at Comte. The bus stop you need to get to is several blocks down. He squeezes your hand. 

"It doesn't look so bad, chérie. Shall we?"

You agree and together step out into the cool rain. For the first minute it really isn't so bad. The rain dampens your clothing, kisses your skin gently. But after that, it's as if the clouds decided the warm-up is over. The storm gathers its thunderous drums and flashy lightning guitars and the real show begins.

You jump as his arm gathers you close against his side for protection, a bulwark in the sudden downpour. Together you search for shelter through the blur of rain. It only takes you a second to remember where you are. 

The oversized awning of the bookstore shields you from most of the heavy rain. You turn within the circle of Comte's protective embrace, your gaze slowly tracing a path up the pale column of his throat, the angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips where it stops, caught there like a thread on a nail. Something warm is unspooling within you, lifting you up to meet him as he leans down, both of you moving in unspoken tandem. Your eyes flutter closed and the world shrinks down to the feel of his lips on yours, cool with rainwater. 

The moment your lips touch, you glow with the warmth you have felt in his presence from the beginning. It plunges into the furthest corners of your heart, taking root. As he cradles your head in his gentle hand, his mouth moving over yours, seeking and finding, you know. 

You know. 

You know. 

He is yours, now and forever.

That night, you sleep in Comte’s strong arms. Your tattoo is in full bloom, a symphony of soft, pink cherry blossoms, a timeless concert of exquisite joy and breathtaking tenderness. A testament to the love of two souls, meant to be.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @bubblexly

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Interest 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

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

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

You try to focus on your needles but find yourself distracted by your mother’s churlish cackles. Even with your music on, her performance rings through and Cole’s rocky undertones seep in. Why hasn’t he left yet? Ugh. You really can’t believe she invited him over. Or that your dad would let her.

You give up after having to redo several stitches. What a pair made in hell! Your mother is all about her fairytales and he’s a great panderer. Well, he’s old enough, maybe they should just be friends. You have no obligation to forgive him, not even tolerate him.

You lay down on your bed in defeat. You turn the music up from your phone and try to tune out reality. Billie Eilish can’t sing loud enough. 

As you reach a special reward on your favourite addictive merge game, there’s a knock at your door. You don’t answer as you go for the final match. The thumping gets louder and your mother hollers over the music.

“Dinner!” She barks, “turn that down.”

You get up and pause the music. You open the door and lean against it, “thought I wasn’t invited to dinner.”

“Can you be mature for one night?” She reproaches.

“I am, I’m minding my business,” you shrug.

“Please, honey, I never taught you to act like this when we have company.”

“Oh really, I’ll have to call up Aunt Gina–”

“Don’t say that name to me,” she snaps, “just come have dinner. And try to be nice.”

“What’s for dinner?” You ask.

“Pork chops, baked beans, and a veggie medley,” she announces.

“Fine,” you relent. You’re hungry enough to justify a plate.

You follow her downstairs, tucking your phone into your back pocket as you descend. You follow her into the kitchen and open the cupboard. Before you can slide a plate out, she closes the door, nearly catching your hand in it.

“What are you doing? Plates are on the table. Where we’ll be eating.”

“Mom,” you whine.

“Stop that,” she wags a finger at you.

You hold back a harrumph and keep from rolling your eyes until she turns away. You tramp after your mom into the dining room, keeping your gaze straight ahead. You pointedly ignore the stranger at the table. That’s what he is. You might know him but you have no desire to know that man.

Your father sits across from the intruder and you go to claim the seat next to him. Your mother tuts, “honey, I’m sitting beside your father.”

You pout and look at the other option, right next to… him. You drag your feet around the table and slide into the chair stiffly. You wait with your hands in your lap. You have a mission; eat and dip.

“Well, dig in,” your mother chimes.

You practice your patience well. Your mom will have no reason to reproach you. You wait for the man next to you to serve himself. After all, she sees him as a guest so it’s only right. 

As Cole takes a pork chop between the long tongs, he angles it over your plate, “this big enough?”

Your lashes flick up and you refuse to look at him or the cut, “sure.”

“Honey,” your mother hisses, “Cole, that is so sweet of you.”

“Well, my mom always taught me, ladies first,” he plops the chop down before he takes his own.

‘My mom…’ even you don’t talk about your maternal creator that much. He’s giving a very specific sort of vibe.

Your mother’s toe hits your calf and you wince. Her eyes flare and you clear your throat, “thank you,” you eke out.

“No problem,” he grabs the dish of beans, “how much?”

You weigh your response. You know what he’s doing. He’s trying to make you look bad. Joke’s on him, with your parents, that’s not that hard.

“Half a scoop is fine,” you utter.

He diligently serves you, finishing off with a heaping servings of veggies. Your stomach growls, betraying you just like your parents. You grab your fork as your father fills his plate in turn as he turns his attention on Cole.

“Lifesaver,” he praises, “that back-up was haunting me. Now the wife can’t nag about a broken sink.”

“Ah, it was easy,” Cole assures him.

“Wife says you come from a farm, must be handy,” your dad intones.

“Sure, you just sorta figure things out,” he slices into his pork chop and you poke at a piece of broccoli, “I’m more the green thumb type. My pa’s really the handy one. I just follow his lead.”

“Must be a good man,” your dad nods.

“I’m tryna learn as much from him as I can,” Cole agrees.

“Aren’t you like… forty?” You scoff.

Your mother drops her fork and gasps. Your father looks at you, appalled.

“Well, I mean, how much more can you learn?” You sniff, “probably learned it all by now, right?”

“Uh, yeah, he is getting older,” Cole answers grimly, “I gotta do a lot more of the heavy lifting.”

Your stomach sinks. Why did you have to say anything? You’re stupid and yet his preening was annoying. How did they not see some middle-aged dude who harassed a woman half his age in a bookstore because he thinks he knows better than a girl with a crochet book? Some big farm oaf.

“That wasn’t very nice,” your dad says, “why don’t you take a few lessons and apologise.”

“I…” you stammer and suck in your cheeks. You squint and stare at the joint of wall and ceiling, “sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“You can apologise to him and not the wall,” your dad girds.

You huff through your nose and put your fork down. You turn in your chair to Cole and grit down your agitation. Why don’t they care that he’s invaded your life in the weirdest way possible? No one is that helpful for no reason.

“I’m sorry that your dad is old,” you say tritely.

“That’s not–” your father begins.

“Go to your room,” your mom speaks over him, “now. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“You can’t just banish me to my room. I’m not a teenager,” you face her.

“You’re acting like one so go,” she demands.

“Gladly,” you slap your hands on the table and stand.

“It’s fine,” Cole says softly, making himself sound as pathetic as he can.

“It’s not fine, honey,” your mother insists and waves you out dismissively, “I am so sorry. You don’t deserve that after all you’ve done.”

You stomp out and shake your head. This is why your parents fell for that time-share. You’re the only one with sense and they refuse to see it.

[cookiesandgrapess]

bookstore au where todd worked and shelved books and neil was the ever so frequent customer.

- neil came in one day wanting to buy another book for his overflowing collection of books but couldn’t find any that caught his eye

- todd came over after watching neil stumble around the book store and check almost every shelve just to come out empty handed for maybe 30 minutes

-todd asked neil if he needed any help and neil just, froze. all thoughts about what he was doing left his head almost immediately and he had to stammer out what he wanted

-todd gave him some recommendations (while stammering himself ) and neil decided to get ALL of them

(todd recommended at least 10 books)

-todd then checked his books out with a small smile with neil’s face reflecting his, before neil said a small goodbye and booked it from the store

- todd thought that was the last he was gonna see of him before neil kept showing up 4-5 times a week

- todd ended up recommending him a book yet again and neil immediately bought it

he found out when he got home it had todd’s number written in it.

-the next time todd saw neil, neil had brought him a coffee while he was waiting. todd jokingly complained that this can’t become a reoccurring thing (he doesn’t want him wasting money on him)

-neil told todd the next time todd gets a coffee will be when they’re sitting down to eat together (todd’s face has never gone redder in his LIFE)

- todd and neil eventually start sharing books with each other with little notes written in the margins.

-todd gives neil poetry books and tabs the romantic ones and neil gives todd strictly walt whitman books

- todd ends up asking neil to be his boyfriend in the margin of a poem he wrote himself.

neil cried for hours after he read it.

bonus: neil ends up asking todd to marry him in the same way todd asked him out.

idk i can’t think of any more but i would kill to fall in love with a bookstore girlfriend.

i’m taking applications

[ghost-n-butteredtoast]

Dimitrescu Books: Chapter 43 - IN PROGRESS

Artist's Instagram: dastelia

Me: (after hours of 'polishing' 10 pages I had already written and adding to...) YES!!! I am making progress! This feels great! What's my word count...

Word Count: nowhere near your last chapter's, bitch.

Me: (takes deep breath) FUCK!!!!!

[conniferab]

@wesperweek2023 day 5: bookstore au

(+ Wylan’s sister!)

[outtoshatter]

I just felt like putting together a little list of some recently published fics in our not-so-little fandom! I got a TON of help from @missanniewhimsy putting this together, thank you so much!! Some of these are more winter than Christmas but it’s mostly festive! This list got a tiny bit long so I added a cut to make things nice and neat! Please enjoy and maybe leave the authors some love if you can! :D

Krampusnacht, or How Derek and Stiles Got a Kid for Christmas by HisBeloved (6k, T)

When Peter Hale was a child he was almost taken by Krampus.  He's hated Christmas ever since.  This is the year that Krampus returns.

Hale’s Bookish Tales by raisesomehale (5k, E)

The man (who Derek had taken to calling ‘Bambi’ in his head) had arrived at Hale’s Bookish Tales painfully early that morning. Normally when he came in he would sprawl out in the desk under the large bay window up front, but today he’d made a bee-line for the lower level and hadn’t returned to the surface since.

Not even after the mass blizzard alert hit, and all the other customers had fled.

If it wasn’t for Derek’s increasingly unhinged infatuation with the man - and thus over-awareness of his presence - he wouldn’t even have noticed that a customer still remained in his bookshop. But Derek had been carefully watching the stream of customers filing out, and had noticed the glaring absence of one in particular.

give me your heart, darling, for christmas by sterekhale (15k, T)

  "I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for the Christmas party because Joanna's gonna be there!" Stiles shouts as he barges through the door to Derek’s apartment.  

Derek doesn't look up from the book he’s reading. "I see that you're still handling your problems with the same level of maturity." — Stiles wants to convince his ex-girlfriend that he’s totally over her—because he is, he barely even thinks about her anymore—and he needs Derek’s help to do the convincing. He’s just a little oblivious of Derek’s feelings for him.

baby please come home by elisela (5k, G)

Stiles should be happy.

He should be happy, he should be fucking delighted—there’s a bottle of champagne being uncorked, hands being shaken, a too-hearty clap on his back that jolts him forward and causes him to stumble slightly. But the space in his chest that usually burns with the high of a closed deal is hollow, empty, and the twinkling gold Christmas lights one of the secretaries had hung in the office mock him, a depressing reminder that he’s about to be alone for the holidays.

It feels like I don’t know you anymore, was the last thing Derek had muttered to him, standing in the threshold of what had been their apartment, backpack slung over one shoulder and duffle bag strap clenched in his fist. I can’t do this.

Poetry in the Raw by Jmeelee (5k, E)

Derek answers his phone on the second ring.  “What.” No inflection whatsoever.  

“Does the ‘S’ in your middle name stand for Sexy?”

Silence.  Then, “Stiles.”  Still no inflection.  

“I doubt it stands for Stiles, dude.  There can only be one,” he answers in a kick-ass impersonation of The Kurgan.  “But tell me it isn’t, like, Sawyer or Skylar or something equally new-age and white-boy contemporary.”

“How did you get my number?”

OR: 5 times Stiles guesses Derek's middle name +1 time he knows.

All I Want for Christmas Is Brew (And You) by snarkatthemoon (4k, T)

“One spiced hazelnut mocha for the dude with the impressive eyebrows and cute scarf,” he says, handing Derek the cup instead of putting it down on the counter like all the baristas do. Their fingers brush gently, and Derek takes far too long to take the cup from Stiles, their eyes meeting.

Ask him for his number, his brain supplies in a voice which sounds scarily like his sister’s. Stiles raises his eyebrows, their eyes still locked and both still holding the cup.

The second Derek opens his mouth, the moment is broken by one of the other baristas shouting, “Stiles! We could all use a little help here considering we have a line going out the door.”

Stiles pulls his hand away as if he’s been burned, giving Derek a sheepish smile before he turns to get back to work.

Derek heads out past the line of irritated customers, ignoring the dirty looks he’s being given while he curses himself inwardly. Idiot. That voice sounds like his other sister.

.

Or, the one where Derek has a crush on a hot barista with a talent for baking and a questionable taste in festive headwear. Written for the Sterek Secret Santa 2021 gift exchange.

McLinski’s by StaciNadia (3k, G)

Derek is a coffee snob looking for some good coffee, but what he finds is bad coffee jokes and maybe a whole lot more. 

Build A Wolf by PalenDrome (5k, T)

Derek is a romantic. He dreams of finding his mate, of connecting with that special someone who will make his heart swoon.

Easy Wind, Downy Flake by wanderingeyre (16k, E)

The man’s hazel eyes snap with something like anger, his mouth a thin line. “We aren’t open.”

Stiles opens his mouth, gaze sliding from the fire, being cheerful, to the man standing five feet from the fire who looks like he wouldn’t know cheerful if it bit him in the ass. “The snow is bad. I barely made it here. If I try to go over the pass in this weather they’ll find my body at the bottom of the mountain come spring.”

Sock-Stuffed Stockings (and other traditions) by redhoodedwolf (9k, T)

Stiles just wants to make it home in time for christmas, so when traffic is crawling due to an accident on the highway he takes a detour down the back roads, only for his beloved jeep to give out. but doesn’t derek hale live in these woods? stiles hasn’t seen him since they were teenagers, but the gentle guy who opens the door with a kid on his hip is definitely not what he expects from the arrogant dick who ignored him back in high school.