#bookstore owner trope??

[dead-poets-are-dead]

PLZ

Can someone write a fic where Reg is luna's godfather and has to take her to this bookshop where there's this childrens thing and then hes just brooding after luna goes off to the thing and he's browsing and then hes crouches down and there's this 1996 romeo+juliet moment and we find out that james is the owner of the bookshop and draco's there too and harry and draco become besties w/ luna as well? Please? I need the fluff.

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

Du Wen at Her, the bar she started last year, in Shanghai. “I think everyone living in this city seems to have reached this stage that they want to explore more about the power of women,” she said.

Her is a self-described feminist bar in Shanghai where women gather to talk about their place in society

Tang Shuang at her bookstore, Paper Moon, in Shanghai

Wang Xia, left, and her Xin Chao Bookstore space in the Shanghai Book City in Shanghai

The female bookstore, Paper Moon, in Shanghai

In bars tucked away in alleys and at salons and bookstores around Shanghai, women are debating their place in a country where men make the laws.

Some wore wedding gowns to take public vows of commitment to themselves. Others gathered to watch films made by women about women. The bookish flocked to female bookshops to read titles like “The Woman Destroyed” and “Living a Feminist Life.”

Women in Shanghai, and some of China’s other biggest cities, are negotiating the fragile terms of public expression at a politically precarious moment. China’s ruling Communist Party has identified feminism as a threat to its authority. Female rights activists have been jailed. Concerns about harassment and violence against women are ignored or outright silenced.

China’s leader, Xi Jinping, has diminished the role of women at work and in public office. There are no female members of Mr. Xi’s inner circle or the Politburo, the executive policymaking body. He has invoked more traditional roles for women, as caretakers and mothers, in planning a new “childbearing culture” to address a shrinking population.

But groups of women around China are quietly reclaiming their own identities. Many are from a generation that grew up with more freedom than their mothers. Women in Shanghai, profoundly shaken by a two-month Covid lockdown in 2022, are being driven by a need to build community.

“I think everyone living in this city seems to have reached this stage that they want to explore more about the power of women,” said Du Wen, the founder of Her, a bar that hosts salon discussions.

Frustrated by the increasingly narrow understanding of women by the public, Nong He, a film and theater student, held a screening of three documentaries about women by female Chinese directors.

“I think we should have a broader space for women to create,” Ms. He said. “We hope to organize such an event to let people know what our life is like, what the life of other women is like, and with that understanding, we can connect and provide some help to each other.”

At quietly advertised events, women question misogynistic tropes in Chinese culture. “Why are lonely ghosts always female?” one woman recently asked, referring to Chinese literature’s depiction of homeless women after death. They share tips for beginners to feminism. Start with history, said Tang Shuang, the owner of Paper Moon, which sells books by female authors. “This is like the basement of the structure.”

There are few reliable statistics about gender violence and sexual harassment in China, but incidents of violence against women have occurred with greater frequency, according to researchers and social workers. Stories have circulated widely online of women being physically maimed or brutally murdered for trying to leave their husbands, or savagely beaten for resisting unwanted attention from men. The discovery of a woman who was chained inside a doorless shack in the eastern province of Jiangsu became one of the most debated topics online in years.

With each case, the reactions have been highly divisive. Many people denounced the attackers and called out sexism in society. Many others blamed the victims.

The way these discussions polarize society unnerved Ms. Tang, an entrepreneur and former deputy editor of Vogue China. Events in her own life unsettled her, too. As female friends shared feelings of shame and worthlessness for not getting married, Ms. Tang searched for a framework to articulate what she was feeling.

“Then I found out, you know, even myself, I don’t have very clear thoughts about these things,” she said. “People are eager to talk, but they don’t know what they are talking about.” Ms. Tang decided to open Paper Moon, a store for intellectually curious readers like herself.

The bookstore is divided into an academic section that features feminist history and social studies, as well as literature and poetry. There is an area for biographies. “You need to have some real stories to encourage women,” Ms. Tang said.

Anxiety about attracting the wrong kind of attention is always present.

When Ms. Tang opened her store, she placed a sign in the door describing it as a feminist bookstore that welcomed all genders, as well as pets. “But my friend warned me to take it out because, you know, I could cause trouble by using the word feminism.”

Wang Xia, the owner of Xin Chao Bookstore, has chosen to stay away from the “F” word altogether. Instead she described her bookstore as “woman-themed.” When she opened it in 2020, the store was a sprawling space with nooks to foster private conversations and six study rooms named after famous female authors like Simone de Beauvoir.

Xin Chao Bookstore served more than 50,000 people through events, workshops and online lectures, Ms. Wang said. It had more than 20,000 books about art, literature and self-improvement — books about women and books for women. The store became so prominent that state-owned media wrote about it and the Shanghai government posted the article on its website.

Still, Ms. Wang was careful to steer clear of making a political statement. “My ambition is not to develop feminism,” she said.

For Ms. Du, the Her founder, empowering women is at the heart of her motivation. She was jolted into action by the isolation of the pandemic: Shanghai ordered its residents to stay in their apartments under lockdown for two months, and her world narrowed to the walls of her apartment.

For years she dreamed of opening a place where she could elevate the voices of women, and now it seemed more urgent than ever. After the lockdown, she opened Her, a place where women could strike friendships and debate the social expectations that society had placed on them.

On International Women’s Day in March, Her held an event it called Marry Me, in which women took vows to themselves. The bar has also hosted a salon where women acted out the roles of mothers and daughters. Many younger women described a reluctance to be treated the way their mothers were treated and said they did not know how to talk to them, Ms. Du said.

The authorities have met with Ms. Du and indicated that as long as the events at Her didn’t become too popular, there was a place for it in Shanghai, she said.

But in China, there is always the possibility that officials will crack down. “They never tell you clearly what is forbidden,” Ms. Tang of Paper Moon said.

Ms. Wang recently moved Xin Chao Bookstore into Shanghai Book City, a famous store with large atriums and long columns of bookcases. A four-volume collection of Mr. Xi’s writings are prominently displayed in several languages.

Book City is huge. The space for Xin Chao Bookstore is not, Ms. Wang said, with several shelves inside and around a small room that may eventually hold about only 3,000 books.

“It’s a small cell of the city, a cultural cell,” Ms. Wang said.

Still, it stands out in China.

“Not every city has a woman’s bookstore,” she said. “There are many cities that do not have such cultural soil.””

[wutheringmights]

After I finished reading The Epic of Gilgamesh today, I entered a fugue state where I sat down and read the entirety of Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce.

On the record, I have had a lifelong love and adoration for Pierce's Tortall books. I first read the Song of the Lioness quartet when I was 11, and they rewrote my brain. I love them so much. I reread them and the other Tortall books on a semi-frequent schedule.

It's been a while since I reread any of the Alanna books, if only because my sister took our shared copies when she moved out. I've been meaning to buy my own set for a long while now but haven't been able to justify the purchase. The other week, I just so happened to find the first two volumes at my local indie bookstore. I bought them immediately, as well as ordered the third and fourth book. (And discovered that the store owner knows me by name-- when I went to pick up my order, she saw me and said, Hi Frankie! I got your books over here.) (I may be spending too much money there.)

So I have been in a bit of an emotional rut these past few weeks. Work sucks. Life stinks. The temptation to run off to Tortall and curl up in the fantasy story that captivated me as a kid has never been stronger.

Ergo, I ran off to read the first book as soon as I could.

If you're looking for any critique of this book, series, or Tortall in general, I will never give it. Sure, it's problematic and dated, and in many ways imperfect, but someone else can list out all of its issues. They're all perfect to me.

Anyway, the book. I should say something about this book in particular.

One thing I appreciate about Pierce's writing is how she handles school settings in fantasy. Learning and training is so mundane. All of her heroines have to work hard and put in extra hours of study in order to improve, much less keep up with their peers. It's so normal that it circles around to being weirdly refreshing.

Also, there is still no other fantasy author who handles period talk and birth control the way Pierce does. We make fun of the trope of fantasy birth control nowadays, but I rarely see it presented as it is here: as a part of normal puberty lessons and given long before sex is in the girl's radar. And even today with the glut of YA fantasy stories out there, I still have yet to see menstruation be portrayed as frequently or as bluntly as Pierce writes it.

There was a period of time publishers really tried to push the Tortall books as straight YA, which doesn't work for that reason alone. You gotta market them to middle schoolers. They're the ones just starting puberty talks, and getting scenes like this is so good for their brains.

Moving on: I fucking love these characters. Alanna was an icon of brash, temperamental heroines that have shaped my taste to this day. I love how even in the first book, Jon is kinda shitty. I adore George Cooper. Talk about a taste maker the way this man sets a standard.

I just can't be coherent when it comes to any Tortall books. I have no thoughts. Head empty. I am going to binge the rest of this series as quickly as I can before my library book comes in. Then normal book content will resume.

Before I go, I need to talk about the book covers.

Growing up, my sister and I had these covers:

Which, god. I love them. The black is striking. The art is incredible. Alanna looks so good. They were the perfect pocket-size too. I was going to buy the same edition for my copies, but instead I got the 40th anniversary reprints:

Not bad at all! These books have had some seriously bad covers, and these look great! Very anime, which will appeal to the 11 year olds who need to have their socks rocked by this series.

But, man. I really miss those black covers. One day I will splurge and buy a second set of them just so that I can stare at the art.

[momolady]

2023 Year End Stats

Not to be stereotypical or anything, but for me at least, 2023 was an odd year. I bled for 6 months straight, dealt with the worst pain I still can't comprehend, had a hysterectomy, moved in with my partner, got some cats, dealt with a lot of stress, watched the world burn. Yeah, it's been pretty good to outweigh the bad.

But anyways! I've done the math and put together a list of my stories that performed the best this year. At least in terms of notes anyways. I'm also going to share my stories that didn't perform as well and hope they get the love they deserve.

Anyways, let's get on with the count down. Forty total stories have published on Tumblr this year. Sixty-six were published on Patreon. Top monsters were orcs (7), Vampire (3), Fae, Minotaur, Romm Monster, Lich (all 2).

Top Ten Stories:

10. Kahann the Naga

This one would probably be in my top ten favorites to write of the year. This dark, twisted romance between a lonely, isolated girl shipwrecked on an island with the dangerous and sexy Kahann struck the dark romance itch I've been wanting to scratch.

9. Keir the Orc

Comfy farm romance that features annoyances to lvoers. What else could you want? Orcs are always fun to write, I feel I could do it with my eyes closed, but thankfully I don't wanna do that.

8. Atharo the Lich

The pink lich, this one had imagery in it I couldn't get out of my head. the visions of this pink lich still huant me and I wish I could conjur such sstrong imagery still.

7. Asier the Drider

A simple premise we cann understand. Getting packages and ordering online is probably yhe msot fun we can have without leaving our homes. But what if your neighbor was annoyed by this? And what if that neighbor was a drider?

6. Auberon the Room Monster

The enchanted library. i think I've written more about the romance and mystery of bookstores an libraries more than anything. But this story was special, with lots of worldbuilding wrapped like a blanket around these characters. The room this monster stays in is the library, and who doesn't wanna spend time with that guy?

5. Marek the Vampire

This murky, dark, and swampy tale is one of those that stays with me. The idea of a different sort of vampire, one in the bogs and wetlands of a strange peninsula that gets flooded every year haunts me. The image of him is one of my absolute favorite creations and I hope I get to visit this peninsula village again.

4. Placide the Paralangua

This story marks the beginning and growth of my Charcourt universe. Liek Hearthway Hollow it's a town filled to the brim with straneg creatures, only it's the Paralangua, alligator type monsters who throw a festival every year to celebrate their history and the continued growth of Charcourt. Is it a cult? Maybe. There's a new five part tale of this area up on Patreon now.

3. Ben the Werewolf

Enmies to lovers, I think most people get on board with this trope. This tale of Hearthway Hollow delves into the relationship between two high school enemies who reconnect after years and manage to put aside their competitivness to find one another. The lead in thisstory is also Rowan's little sister.

2. Leraye the Demon

Demons are always fun. My demon characters have ways of weaving themselves in and out of the world we know, sometimes as proper members of society, often not. Leraye is one of those that visits our world as a full time member, seeing out the comforts of a Chinese bakery whose owners are a family with ties into the reality he avoids.

Florenz the Vampire Bat

This would for sure also be on my favorites of the year. This dark story wove together elements of fantasy, horror, and romance that I love to death. The lead is sophisticated and dashing, the lead is adventurous and excitable. The chemistry between the leads while writing this tale was so good.

The Ten Least Appreciated Stories

10. Juniper the Tiefling

I am deeply disappointed this didn't do as well as I expected. This story was based on characters me and my bff made for a one shot DND session. So this story was more personal to me than others. but more than that, I feel it had some of my best banter!

9. Rocco the Guard

Another personal tale based on ideas me and my friend came up with during a visit where we watched the Owl House together. I also greatly enjoyed the leading lady who was smart, spunky, and chaotic in the absolute best ways.

8. Ozzie the Werewolf & Tryfon the Naiad

It has a trans lead, it has polyamory, it was set in hearthway Hollow! I thought this story was serving up gold on a platter. But maybe people weren't in the mood for gold. The comedy in this is top notch, at least I thought.

7. Laertes the Fae

Another story where the dialogue I feel sparkles and pops with every interaction the characters had. This did only recently come out, so maybe it'll grow after this.

6. Ransom the Shapeshifter

Another personal story based around lore me and my bff created for our Stardew Valley characters. It also featured a nonbinary lead and monster, I thought people would be excited for this. I loved playing with the avant-garde sci-fi aspect and being a little weird. But maybe that's why people didn't like it too much lol

5. The Leshy

Another story that would be in my top ten for my personal favorites to write. I loved the complexity of the leading lady and crafting her has made her a personal favorite. The characters and world of this story will be one that stays with my thoughts as I think about the cozy, dark streets anfdthe moss covered steps of the buildings.

4. Jaqueline the Dullahan

This story has it all! Chocolate, Halloween, a sexy dullahan chef, and it's a lesbian romance. Maybe I don't have enough wlw readers but this story came from a ko-fi prompt I wrot and just grew into a full fledged story. I really enjoyed the atmosphere of this story and how it felt like a cozy fireplace with hot cocoa.

3. Beast the Symbiote

Beast is a character I have been wanting to get out into the world for years. She's such a complex villain character, and who doesn't love that. I feel like she is one of my coolest characters. Lucky Devil was also a character I had been dying to get out, she's been in my head since I watched Magi Madoka and she took form slowly over the years. She is in part based on me, and I want to do more with this lovely couple.

2. Fia the Selkie

I'm starting to see a pattern here. Male reader stories aren't ya'lls cup of tea? Too bad, I have some amazing male readers and commissioners I adore working for. Fia was this comforting warm blanket of a story. A struggling musician and the lovely Selkie he's come to be with. I really love this story, please check it out if you want some comfort.

1.Ria the Orc: an AU

I'm actually a wee bit pissed about this one. Another male reader, and Ria is a character I've come to absolutely love. This was written for a commissioner I've come to consider a friend, and writing for him has become an amazing experience. Ria and her beau have also become such real, loving characters in my head. This was an AU of the modern monsters Ria where she is in Obresh and participates in the Reaping. Who doesn't love Reaping stories? C'mon folks, give these ten stories the love they deserve!

Thank you all for an amazing year! Next year I will hopefully publish and you're going to see bigger and grander things from me, I owe that to all of you. Keep a look out for my Ozren novel hitting the shelf soon. Thank you so much and I hope I continue to write stories you love.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 24: Fluff

Animal | @ididitallofitforyou Rating: General Word Count: 1,014 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Established Relationship, Kid Fic Summary: Cas and the kids stumble over a pet adoption event

The Bliss | @blessyoushondahurley Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,223 Main Tags/Warnings: established relationship, domestic fluff, halloween Summary: A fluffy domestic day in the life of a happy, settled, married, post-hunter Dean Winchester and family.

Kiss it better | @tami-ryver Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,332 Main Tags/Warnings: Season/Series 09, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Sick Castiel (Supernatural), Caretaker Dean Winchester, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel Summary: Cas is sleeping soundly, and Dean tries his forehead; it's not as hot as it was before. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and smiles. Cas is indeed in good hands, and Dean is going to make sure he is healthy as soon as possible. Because if there is one thing he doesn't like, it's when the people he loves are in pain. Wait, loves? He loves Cas? Oh. Oh.

Early Morning | @ididitallofitforyou Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,378 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Post Canon, Boys Kissing, Established Relationship, Retired Dean and Cas, Baker Dean, Bookstore Owner Cas Summary: When Dean’s alarm goes off, he quickly silences it and groans as he falls back against his pillow. Before he can talk himself out of bed, Cas rolls over and snuggles up against him, head on his shoulder, arm around his waist. Dean leans down to nuzzle Cas’ hair as he slowly rubs his hand across Cas’ back and shoulder. How did he - Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, the guy with nothing but a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude - get so lucky as to end up here? Married to his not-quite-an-angel-anymore, best-friend-turned-love-of-his-life. He’s so goddamned happy he doesn’t know what to do with himself sometimes. Dean huffs an incredulous laugh and shakes his head. He’s got to get moving or he’s going to be late.

loving on island time | @deancaskiss Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,015 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Kissing, Boys Kissing, French Kissing, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Established Relationship, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Anniversary, Day At The Beach, Beaches, Sunsets, Road Trips, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Surprises, Surprise Kissing, Flirting, Castiel/Dean Winchester Flirting, Romance, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Roses, Alcohol Summary: Cas slipped a note into the handle of Dean’s coffee mug, set it on the bedside table, and placed a kiss against Dean’s temple. 'Let’s go on a road trip. I’ll drive.’

Hot & Cold | @macy2me Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,064 Main Tags/Warnings: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Castiel Proposes Marriage to Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human Summary: When Dean accidentally finds out that there is an engagement ring hidden in the house, he plays a game of Hot & Cold with Cas to find it. Short fic created as part of the Love & Winchesters birthday drabble exchange.

Fairy Cake Shop | @verobatto Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,546 Main Tags/Warnings: Fantasy, love at first sight, fairy!Dean, human!Cas, modern setting Summary: Dean, Charlie and Benny are unpaid fairies working for Fairyland collecting human's emotions like pearls. To do this work, they run together a cake shop that fullfils human's good wishes. One day Dean meets Castiel, a widower father, and his life changes for ever.

The Starlight | @Velvethopewrites Rating: General Word Count: 3,803 Main Tags/Warnings: Meet-cute, AU, shy!Cas, awkward!Cas, fluff, bartender!Dean, human AU, pre-slash Summary: A cold and rainy night brings two people together.

The Way to a Man's Heart (In a Blizzard) | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: General Word Count: 4,344 Main Tags/Warnings: Neighbors AU, Dean Has a Crush on Castiel, Snowed In, Baker Castiel, Sweet Dean, Happy Ending Summary: Determined to spend the weekend on his own as a snow storm hits the city, Dean may change his mind when a handsome neighbor knocks on his door. Propositioning him with delicious food, no less.

One Way Mirror | @starstiels Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,312 Main Tags/Warnings: outsider pov, fluff, didn't know they were dating, protective dean, protective castiel, episode: s12e01, episode: s12e02, cas and dean use their words Summary: When Mary comes back from the dead, she didn't expect her 4-year-old to be 37. She also didn't expect him to be a hunter and married to an angel. AU where deancas are just slightly more openly affectionate and Mary immediately assumes they're married.

The Royally Unexpected Jollification of Two Princes | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: General Word Count: 6,096 Main Tags/Warnings: Royalty AU, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Temporary Meg/Castiel, Helpful Sam Summary: Prince Dean has a lot of feelings to sort out when he hears the unexpected news that best friend Prince Castiel is engaged. Unsure if he’s upset about not having been told the news by his own friend—or perhaps because of another elusive reason—he plans on clarifying the situation. Good thing his friend is set to arrive at the castle on that very afternoon, unaware that an important discussion is awaiting him.

Their Own Personal Eden | @thisisapaige Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7,394 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergence After Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Gardener Castiel, Gardener Dean Winchester, Inspired by Draft Script for Episode: s13e06 Tombstone, Language of Flowers, Fix It Summary: Years ago, Dean lost Cas and spread his ashes across a meadow with a windmill, a brook, and a garden. Years later, Dean loses Cas again and returns there to plant flowers in his honour. One day, while Dean lies in the meadow now full of forget-me-nots, a portal opens and Cas returns. With the help of soil, seeds, and the language of flowers— and perhaps a little meadow miracle— Dean and Cas learn how to navigate their relationship in the new, Chuck-free world.

[starlightkun]

filler episodes ⏯ teaser [sungchan]

⏯ teaser word count: 1458 | full fic: 16.6k ⏯ warnings: general angst around not knowing what you’re doing with your life, the usual cursing ⏯ genre: fluff, suggestive/steamy but no actual smut, strangers to lovers, band au, punk drummer!sungchan, office worker!reader, not really badboy x good girl trope, more like sungchan has tattoos and reader is… a bit boring and hates her job. but she’s trying!, reader is having a quarter life crisis, ft. shotaro/eunseok/wonbin as sungchan’s bandmates, and nct dream 00 line as reader’s normal friends™ ⏯ estimated release: saturday, june 29, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

Clutching your tote bag strap tighter to your body, you turned onto a street, trying to ignore the sun that was getting lower in the sky. Surely this way would lead towards your apartment. You’d lived in this city your whole life, you could walk from your work to your home, two places that you went to every single day.

There was a tall man outside one of the shops on this street, and you went to skirt around him on the sidewalk as he swept a few stray leaves and dirt out of a bookstore. Other than him, the street was fairly quiet, many of the stores having already closed up for the day.

“What are you doing?” The young man called out to you before you could fully pass him by.

You pivoted around on your heel, quickly looking around to see if there was anybody else that he could possibly be talking to. But it was definitely just you and him.

He looked about your age, wearing a cream pink long-sleeve button down presumably as part of the store uniform, though you weren’t sure if he really needed to have it buttoned all the way to the top button. It seemed a bit too warm out for that.

“Walking. Why?”

“This is the fourth time you’ve walked by here.” He did a sweeping point to the sidewalk in front of the shop, then leaned against the broom he had been cleaning with. “Wasn’t sure if you might have a particular destination in mind.”

“Fuck! I knew I was going in circles!”

“You’re lost.”

“Yeah, this isn’t my normal way home…”

“And your phone died?” He cocked his head curiously.

“No, I’m trying to get home without using my phone map,” you admitted, looking around for any familiar landmarks.

“Why? That’s what it’s for.”

“It’s… You’ll think it’s stupid. My friends did.”

He shrugged. “Probably. But why does that matter to you? I’m just some guy.”

“I’ve been doing something new every day. Just small things. But if I change enough little things, then everything will have changed.”

The guy was quiet for a beat, looking altogether unimpressed, then asked, “Where do you live?”

“Uh…”

“General area, see if I can give you directions from here.”

“Oh, uhm, if you can get me to the tea shop on Magnolia, I can get myself home from there.”

“Jade Gardens, I know it,” he nodded, then pointed left down the street, in the same direction that you had just come from. “That way, left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, another right onto Broad Street, it’ll eventually dead end into Magnolia, keep going until you see the tea shop.”

“Left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, right onto Broad,” you recited. “Got it, thank you!”

“Stay safe.” He waved you off, returning to sweeping without seeing if you had gone the way he’d pointed you.

It was Monday that you got lost and were given directions home by the questionably friendly but overall helpful bookstore worker, and the tea shop on Magnolia had been on your mind since. So on Thursday, you decided to stop by after work. You were running low on the green tea that you usually kept in stock at home, and thought that you might pick up something new for yourself.

Opening the door to Jade Gardens that Thursday, you were enveloped by the familiar aromatic smells wafting around the small shop. When you didn’t hear the usual kind voice of the owner, Mrs. Choi, greeting you, you peered around the aisle that you were in to look for her.

“Mrs. Choi?” You called out, also not hearing her TV show that she usually was watching behind the counter between helping customers. You were by the black teas anyway, so you didn’t mind wandering into the next aisle as you looked for any other sign of life in the shop.

“She’s not in,” a voice that was definitely not Mrs. Choi informed you right as you turned the corner into the beginning of the green teas. You could see enough of the man’s profile to recognize him as he stood by some of the shelves in the store. The worker from the bookstore. He was standing over an open cardboard box, a couple tins of tea in his hands.

“Uhm…” You trailed off, blinking at him as you weren’t sure exactly what to say. He placed the tins on the shelf.

“You think I’m stalking you, don’t you?” He said flatly, turning to show you the name badge on his longsleeve teal shirt. It was metallic gold, with the name SUNGCHAN engraved into it. “I work here too. For the past six months.”

“Oh, right.” You relaxed, flashing him a smile. As he went back to restocking and you went back to looking at the tea on the shelves that he wasn’t currently stocking, you commented lightly, “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I work Tuesdays and Thursdays. You ever been here on a Tuesday or a Thursday?”

“No. I always come on Sundays.”

“There you go.” He had emptied the box of product he was restocking from, and carried it into the back. When he reemerged, he stopped behind the register, but engaged you in conversation again, “So is this your new thing for today? Coming on a Thursday instead of Sunday?”

“Yeah.”

“And? Is your whole life different yet?”

“I’ve only been doing this for two weeks…” You replied defensively, looking over at him from the two kinds of green tea that you were debating between.

“Have you done anything new yet?” Sungchan asked, arching an eyebrow.

“That’s the whole point—”

“From what I know, as some guy who doesn’t even know your name, is that you have walked home from work without using the maps on your phone—something you would have done anyway—and gone to a shop that you go to regularly, just on a different day of the week. Have you done anything that you’ve never done before at all?”

“My name is Y/N, by the way.” You bit the inside of your cheek, and grabbed your tea selection. “Ordering a drink I’ve never tried at my usual boba place doesn’t count, does it?”

“You already know the answer, Y/N.”

“The point isn’t to quit my job and travel the world and completely overhaul my life—”

“I thought it was to change everything?”

“If I change enough little things, then—”

“—everything will have changed.” “—everything will have changed.” The two of you finished at the same time, Sungchan putting more emphasis on ‘everything,’ a pointed look on his face.

“I just don’t get how everything is supposed to change by you coming to a tea shop on a different day one time, but still working the same job you hate,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How do you know I hate my job?!” You retorted, bringing your selections up to the counter.

“If you loved it, you wouldn’t be in a crisis about changing your whole life.”

“Do you like your two jobs?”

“They’re fine.” He shrugged, ringing up your purchases.

You handed him your card. “Fine?”

“They’re just my day jobs.”

“And what’s your night job then?”

A smirk grew on his face as he bagged your tins of tea. “Nah.”

“‘Nah?’” You repeated incredulously.

“You’re not doing anything new. No point telling you.”

“If it’s stand-up, I don’t want to know,” you snorted.

“It’s not stand-up.”

“Mm, I don’t know, you’re giving me real stand-up energy right now,” you snipped, gesturing to his entire demeanor. “I’m really glad you haven’t told me, actually, because I can’t control my face when I’m told bad jokes.”

“I don’t do stand-up comedy,” he reiterated with the same calm, self-assured tone, handing you your bag of tea and receipt.

“Considering you’re refusing to tell me, I’m convinced it’s like, open mic nights. Tight fives, not even a full—”

“Not stand-up,” he said again. “But considering how badly you’re begging me to tell you—”

“Pretty sure you’re the one desperately trying to convince me you don’t do stand-up, but—”

“If you really want to do something brand new…” He took your receipt out of your hand, writing on the back of it with a pen that was on the counter. “Make this your thing for tomorrow.”

You accepted the receipt when he held it back out to you. “You still haven’t told me what you do.”

“Live a little. And bring some friends, yeah? Don’t want you getting lonely in the mosh pit.”

Your eyes scanned the address and time he had scrawled on your receipt. “Mosh pit?”

⤷ masterlist

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Closed Until Further Notice

Oh my god this was WAY longer than anticipated and I wasn't planning on making it like spicy, but it's been a while so I threw some at the very end ;) this is Eris x Cafe Owner ! Reader / trope, it was very cute so I hope I captured the idea well enough for the anon who requested it!

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: Cursing, Smut

Eris wouldn’t say he frequented the small towns scattered throughout the Autumn Courts, nothing more than a yearly visit or two, normally just for an inspection called upon by his father. He usually came on horseback, flanked by his soldiers in their shining armor, and strolled through the town for a quick survey. He nodded politely, quick to make his way through the town without disturbing any of the residents. No matter how nice he was, how civil and respectful he was, they still cowered from him - hid in their homes and shut their shop doors when he passed through.

But there was one town, nestled just past the forest in the valley of the mountains right before the Winter Court, that Eris took his time visiting. That’s exactly what it was, in fact: a visit, not an inspection - no surveillance, no prying. He traveled there alone, winnowing to the outskirts of the village, taking his time walking down the main street. Stores and homes littered the dirt road, nearly frozen solid from the Winter wind that blew across the border; he walked along the stone sidewalk, past the brick houses and the shops built up from the redwood trees. 

At the center of the town stood the bakery, a hand painted sign that spelled it out in fine script. The chalkboard was propped open on the walkway, the specials written in swirly cursive. Eris bit the inside of his cheek to hide the smile that crawled up his lips, eyeing the Topfenstrudel you’d written no doubt early this morning - probably before he’d even woken up. You’d listed a few teas below it, fruit sauces, and spices to pair it with. 

Eris wouldn’t admit to it, but he’d patroned it more than the other little towns. It started once a year, just like everywhere else, but turned quarterly - monthly, even - after he visited your bakery. Small and tucked away, next to a butcher’s shop on one side and a bookstore on the other, your cafe was lined with tables and plush chairs, golden faelights and fresh flowers strewn across the space. 

He slipped through the door quickly, trying not to let out the heat from the small fire in the hearth beside the counter. “Good morning,” you called from the back kitchen, not visible from the doorway. “I’ll be with you in a minute!” Eris hummed in response, throwing a tiny ring of fire at the dimming flame. He noted the heat immediately, a welcome shiver down his spine at the feeling. He shook off the cold, shoving his hands in his pockets and pacing a few steps around the cafe. 

He had half a mind to bring you flowers this time - though, he’d been telling himself that the past three visits. His mother had clipped some hydrangeas from her garden, had them laid out along the long table in her drawing room. He should have just swiped a few, winnowed out before she would even notice, but he thought against it, didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or think he was trying something. 

Not that he wasn’t, necessarily - he should - gods, he wanted to. But the only thing you knew about him was that he was the High Lord’s son, he didn’t want to accept your advances because you felt like you had to. 

You popped around the corner, stopping in front of the counter wiping your hands on your apron. Your mouth opened and shut quickly, eyes wide at the sight of him. But he didn’t miss the blush that crawled up your cheeks, the small flustered smile when his fiery gaze met yours. “Oh - I didn’t - sorry to keep you waiting,” you said, shaking your head slightly. 

Eris smiled and relaxed his shoulders. “I wasn’t, don’t worry.” He’d counted down each minute - all forty-four thousand of them - until he saw you again. 

“You’re early,” you replied, pressing your hands against the counter, shuffling the random pile of papers before you.

He shrugged, eyes falling to the counter, watching how you moved the papers, each scrawled with a different recipe or note, and pushed them to the side. “Long day ahead - I wanted to make sure I got the strudel before you ran out.” 

The High Lord’s son typically came closer to closing, when just a few customers lingered around. Some ducked out quickly, afraid of the tall male’s presence; others stayed, tucked away in the dimly lit corners of the cafe, watching the handsome male from just over the rim of their coffee up. He usually ordered a tea - something chamomile or tisane - along with a pastry or two, and always tried the daily special. 

But you opened at six in the morning, and Eris strolled in just three minutes past. 

“Then what else can I get for you, Eris?” He almost melted on the spot - his name dripped like honey off your lips. You’d exchanged names and gotten past formalities a few months ago, when you’d started greeting him more like a friend than the High Lord’s son. 

He figured he’d never get anywhere with you if he kept lingering around the bakery before closing, when your neighbors sat watching his every move. 

“I’ll have a coffee, please.” You quirked a brow at the male, surprised at the change in order, though you supposed it was too early for a sleepy tea. 

You watched him ruffle around in his pocket for some change, the heavy gold coins shaking in his hand. He dipped his head to count the money, you watched the red locks of hair fall over his brow. You tipped your head back to look up at him, watch the fire’s shadows dance over his carved cheekbones, kissing his straight nose. 

You were able to see him clearly in the morning light; you could count the freckles across his cheeks, and oh how you longed to. He looked so different at night, when the sun was gone and the only light came from the red fire and amber faelights, as well as his glowing eyes. “And how do you take your coffee?” You watched his throat work, his eyes roam over your features. 

Eris pressed his tongue behind his teeth. “How you take yours.” 

“Milk and sugar?” You hummed, raising your brow, smiling at the male. While he savored the sweets you served him, you would have assumed he went for the more bitter taste. 

To be fair, he did. He just wanted to know how you liked yours, should he ever have the chance to make it for you himself. 

Preferentially in his bed. 

And nude. 

“Milk and sugar,” he replied with a small nod but a broad smile. 

Your eyes flitted between him and the mess on the counter in front of you - yet his red eyes never left yours, his gaze burning into you. You couldn’t help but blush, the heat emitted from his body calling to you, for you to throw yourself into him and feel his arms around you. The chill from the Winter Court was strong that morning, you’d wanted nothing more than to linger around the warm ovens all morning. But the cafe felt warmer, like it always did when he visited; you weren’t sure if it was his fire powers or just him. 

How much you wanted to touch him. 

“Coming right up.” You offered him a smile before trotting off to the kitchen, setting the grounds up over the set of mugs. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Your voice carried quietly from the back kitchen, just audible above the cracking fire. Eris’s eyes swiped around the cafe, over the small tables and iron chairs, never having seen the shop empty before. But he took a seat against the window, the seats shrouded with pillows with stacks of books adorning the tabletop. Your scent lingered across the space, bright and fruity with a hint of cinnamon. 

He tried not to stare at the counter across the shop, watch and wait for you to appear in the doorway to return. Eris tried to busy himself, glancing at each of the plants hanging from baskets, the flowers that he tried to remember, the sound of his mother reciting each name in the back of his mind. 

You piled the mugs and plates on a small wooden tray and made your way back to the tiny dining area, weaving through the tables to meet him in the corner. His thick brows raised in surprise as he noticed the amount of goodies on the tray, scrambling to stand and take it from you. But you shooed him off, setting everything down between you and ushering him to sit when you took the seat across from him. 

You never thought you’d meet a member of Autumn royalty, let alone one that fretted over you carrying a small try and who stood whenever you entered the room. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he said, quietly, almost unsure of how the word was supposed to sound - like it was foreign. But your pointed ears flexed, unable to miss the small sentiment, no matter how unusual it tasted on his tongue, he was trying. 

“You’re welcome, Eris,” you replied simply, handing him a mug, taking the matching one for yourself. There were a couple strudels on a plate, paired with a bowl of fruit, and some macaroons, a couple pumpkin tarts fresh from the oven on the side. 

He noticed how you pulled your strudel in half, how your shoulders shrugged slightly when you tasted it, the warm dough relaxing the cold chill that stiffened your spine. You couldn’t help but watch his hands work before you, pulling apart his pastry, just as you did, how he picked up the coffee cup loosely in those long fingers, pale knuckles and veins lining his big hands. You cradled your own mug in both hands, half needing the warmth from the side of the cup, the other half needing the grasp on reality, keeping you grounded - keeping your mind from wandering too far. 

His gaze washed over you, watching as you zoned out, staring into the space between you. “Were you here early this morning?” 

You blinked once, twice, trying to pull your eyes away from the male’s hands. “Yeah.” You huffed a laugh, sipping from the much needed coffee. “I start baking at four - got here at three though.” You eyed the pastry he’d picked up. “These were a bit more difficult than what I usually try for.”

“It’s excellent,” he said, taking a bite of the flaky pastry. “Very much worth the extra time, in my opinion.”

“I’m glad you came today.” Eris’s red eyes sparkled at your words, he felt the fire roar through his veins and crawl up his cheeks. 

Me too. He ached; wanted to find out everything about you, about your life, what you liked and what you didn’t, your family, what made you tick, what made you smile, how you tasted, how you’d look in his bed, on his lap. 

But before the male could even think of a response, the door swung open, followed by a gust of wind. Your eyes shot to the door immediately, assessing who came in, interrupting (what Eris believed to be, at least) a pleasant conversation. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Aldrich,” you greeted the old female, bundled up in her coat and wrapped in what looked like two scarves. Your eyes dropped to Eris once more as you pushed yourself from the table, sauntering off to the counter to serve her. 

But Eris decided to only wait a few moments longer, downing the rest of his coffee and finishing the treats on the table before stacking the bowls and plates. He ran his hands over the sides of his corduroy pants, unsure of whether to bring them to you in the kitchen, whether he should even go out of his way to say goodbye. He felt the Fae female staring at him, too afraid to say anything, but watching his every move. So he buttoned his jacket, preparing to leave before anyone else could come to the cafe to study him. 

He turned to the female, offering his a polite bow of his head in greeting, which she returned with a small curtsey. “Bye Eris,” you called, poking your head around the corner from the kitchen, arms working to tie a white apron around your waist. 

His eyes found yours, sparkling in the morning light that shines from the front windows. “Bye (Y/N), thanks again.” He offered you a smile before he ducked out the short front door. 

Eris felt Mrs. Aldrich’s eyes move back and forth between the two of you. 

_________________________

The next time he came by, it was still just as cold and just as early. He tried to take his time walking to the shop, but he couldn’t slow himself down - his hands itched, flexing at his sides, simmering with heat that poured out of him. The pocket watch in the front of his jacket told him he was a few minutes early, so he lingered along the cobblestones, kicking at the loose rocks on the sidewalk. 

The lights in the cafe were on, but the specials sign was missing and the Closed sign hung across the green door. He chewed on his bottom lip, shoving his hands inside his pockets and turning on his heel. He thought maybe he should just leave, not wait around like a creep, and solicit the peaceful town. 

“Eris?” 

The male’s head lifted as he turned over his shoulder, meeting your soft smile. He lifted a hand to run through his messy red hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “Hey (Y/N), good morning,” he stumbled over his words, too focused on his racing heart - beating almost as rapidly as the first day he saw you. 

You held the door open with your foot - the tip of your brown boot covered in flour, as the hem of your skirt was - and moved to pull the chalkboard through the door. The High Lord’s son pulled it from your hands, grabbing it easily with on and moving it as though it weighed nothing. He fixed it up on the sidewalk before turning to you with a smile. “Apricot sachertorte?”

You beamed at him, proud of your newest sweet treat, and propped your hands on your hips. You almost didn’t notice the Winter Court chill seeping through your clothes. You felt the heat he emitted, centuries of fire burning through him, drawing you to him. “You like chocolate, no?”

Eris ushered you inside, noting your missing coat when his eyes drew up and down your body. The dress you wore was thin, tight. Dusted with ingredients and a messy apron. He swallowed, forced some air into his lungs, and forced himself to not stare when you led him inside. “I have a certain weakness when it comes to chocolate.” And you. 

He rolled his eyes inwardly at himself - how his father would have killed him for even making a joke about having a terminal flaw. But he’d developed enough of a friendship that he’d actually made you laugh, and it was a sound he’d say nearly anything to hear it again. 

“Perfect then, take a seat and I’ll get some coffee for us.” Eris sighed in sweet relief, thanking you for saving him from having to ask you to sit with him again. 

You were quick to return with two mugs and two plates, one exceptionally large slice of the torte accompanied by a smaller one. He was quick to help you, settling into the table across from the fireplace. You’d hummed when you sat down, relaxing into the iron chair, and the male couldn’t help but wonder if it was the first time you’d sat down all morning. You drank your coffee like it came from the Mother herself, savoring the rich taste. “This is probably the fourth cup I’ve had this morning.” 

Eris wasn’t surprised. He was in the same boat himself, actually. He hadn’t been able to sleep all last night, not with the anticipation of seeing you. He’d forced his night owl of a brother to spar with him, tire himself out wielding the heavy steel sword. He’d fussed over battle plans and boring court papers. When that didn’t work, he’d even found himself in the kitchen, attempting what was intended to be a galette. When that didn’t work out, he gave up and laid in bed for a few more hours. He was tired, sure, but couldn’t fall asleep. 

“You ought to take a day off, sleep in,” he replied, taking a bite of the layered chocolate cake. Gods, if that was the last meal he’d eat, he’d be beyond satisfied. 

You shrugged, finger tracing the rim of your cup. “I could… but I just love it too much - even if I have to wake up early for it.” Eris nodded along. “Besides, what if you came by the shop and I was closed?”

He shifted in his chair, trying to settle the burn in his chest. “You’re right - ” he tried to play it off casually. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without your pastries.” Another job well done, he cursed himself. 

You smiled sweetly, propping your elbow up on the table and resting your head against your knuckles. “So tell me, Eris. What’s on today’s agenda? I can hardly believe you came all this way just for coffee and chocolate.” 

Oh how wrong you were. He’d go to the ends of Prythian just to spend one moment with you. 

“Taking care of some errands for my father,” he began, not interested in divulging too much. You understood, and simply nodded along, taking whatever he’d be willing to give out. “I have a meeting in the Winter Court.” 

“Ah, just a stop along the way, then.” He wasn’t sure if he heard faint disappointment laced in your voice, or if it was just what he’d been hoping to hear. 

“Well - yes, but…” It was one of those rare moments where Eris didn’t know what to say. “But I wish I could come more - I don’t want to bother you. I know a lot of your customers are uneasy when I stop by - ”

You cut him off, sitting straight in your chair. “You’re not - I love when you visit, Eris.” You fought against all your instincts to reach across the table and grab his hand. 

It was his turn to blush. Maybe he was overheating, what with all the layers and sitting in front of the fire. Or perhaps it was your bright eyes staring at him, burning into him, starting straight into the depths of his soul. “I wish I could stay longer, I’d like to - ”

But that godsdamned door opened again, a group of Fae walked in, conversation abruptly stopping when they noticed the fiery-haired male sitting at the table across from you. Eris stood in one swift motion, abandoning his fork and empty plate behind him. He noticed the young female that walked in, orange hair wild around her ears, starting straight at you, wiggling her eyebrows. 

When he tossed a look over his shoulder at you, he saw your pink cheeks, chin tucked close to your chest. “Your highness,” one of the males began, bowing to Eris.

His friend smacked him in the chest, grimacing at his friend’s actions. “Shut up.”

Another female interrupted all of them, smiling broadly at Eris. “Good morning, sir,” she said sweetly, dipping slightly in greeting. 

Eris had never felt more awkward in his life. He’d been trained in court politics, to lead armies, to host High Lord meetings on behalf of his father, to speak in front of hundreds of Fae. But never to talk with teenage Fae. 

“Good morning,” he replied as politely as he could, shifting his weight from foot to foot. But he recalled his courtier training, standing tall and holding his chin high. 

He got a small confidence boost though, as the other males tilted their heads back to look up at him, and cowered a few steps backward. And although Eris was normally cocky enough to have loved to inflict that kind of response on others, it wasn’t what he should be displaying in front of a female he was trying to impress. 

“I have to be getting on my way, (Y/N),” he finished, turning back to look at you. “Thanks for the coffee.” He smirked, watching as you glared at your friend - the one whose eyes kept flitting between you and the High Lord’s son. 

Your attention was drawn back to Eris and he threw a wink your way before he left the cafe.  

_________________________

He winnowed back just after the sun had set, when the chill from the mountains was visible in each breath he took. Eris appeared right in front of your shop door, where the lights were dimmed and the sign on the door read Closed. 

Fuck, he’d cursed himself, fifteen minutes late. He’d rushed back as fast as he could, after having spent the day in the Winter Court, useless meetings with Kallias and his staff. Eris had nearly run out of the meeting room, winnowing before he’d even left the table and made it close to the door. 

But you’d spotted him, the brown wool coat and dark red hair from the window. You almost skipped to the door, something between a hop and a half-jog, making your way to the door before he’d off and disappeared again. “Eris, wait!” You’d called, unlocking the door and poking your head through. 

He smiled when he turned around, meeting you in the doorway. You held a broom in your hand, obviously close to leaving for the evening. No matter how tired you were, there was no doubt in his mind that you’d had a busy day, you still greeted him with a cheery smile. 

“I just wanted to,” he began, digging his hand through his pocket and pulling out a handful of gold coins. “For this morning.” 

You shook your head, but took his wrist in your hand, pulling him through the door. Your fingers sparked when you felt his warm skin against yours. “You visiting is quite enough - ”

Eris groaned, wishing you’d held onto him for just a little bit longer. “I don’t need special treatment.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t be nice to you anymore, Eris?”

He smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the dim faelight. “Are you being nice to me or being nice to my family?” 

He watched you tut, giving him an indiscreet up and down. It almost made him nervous. “Just you.” And Eris smiled at that, his own selfishness getting the best of him, but glad you had invited him in. “I like when you visit. You don’t do it enough.” 

You’d set the broom against the table, hands clasped in front of you trying your damnedest not to look like a giddy child in a candy shop. Eris glowed, watching your movements, daring to see how much else you’d reveal to him. 

Eris was too busy staring at you, committing every feature of yours to memory, to respond. “How about some tea?” You asked, already making your way to the kitchen. 

“Please,” he nearly sighed, and no matter how happy and excited he was to be back at your bakery, he was still beat from a day of Winter Court bullshit. 

You disappeared only momentarily, returning just after you’d set the kettle over the stovetop, with two mugs in hand. You set them on the table by the window, the seats both cushioned with freshly fluffed pillows. Eris joined you, eyeing the loose tea leaves at the bottom of the cups, a mixture of chamomile flowers, linden leaves, and peppermint. 

He smiled gratefully, seeing your body relax once you’d slid into the chair across from him. “You like it here?” Eris couldn’t help but ask. You seemed to work yourself into exhaustion, rising before the sun, staying past dusk, holed away in the quaint cafe. It was a small town, too far from the other Autumn villages to easily visit - though, he supposed there would be plenty of adventure in the woods beyond and the mountains between Winter. That ought to be dangerous, especially given the fact that if Beron found out about his subjects crossing the border, he’d outright banish or kill them. 

You smiled back at the High Lord’s son, him looking equally as tired as you must have. Light purple lined the tops of his cheekbones, starkly contrasting his otherwise luminous pale skin. His brows were taught, pulled together as if really contemplating your answer - or perhaps overthinking his question. He’d forgotten his coat on the back of his chair, a dark blazer underneath. His eyes glowed, his red irises burning brighter as the light from the windows faded.

“I do,” you hummed, content with your little date. 

But the screeching of the kettle interrupted you, and right as you placed your hands on the table to push yourself up, Eris stopped you. “Let me, please.” Before you could even respond, he was already on his feet, rushing off into the back kitchen to pull the kettle off.

He returned with the kettle in one hand and a bottle of honey in the other. He poured your cup first and then his, setting the hot water to the side. Surely, should you let him stay long enough, it would be easy enough for him to reheat later. 

“You were saying?” He continued, eyes locked on the mug before him, dropping in a swirl of honey to his tea. 

You bit your lip, pushing your mug closer to him. His eyes flitted up to you once before he repeated the action. “I like it here. It’s small - I know all of my customers by now. All of their names, their orders, it’s like a little family.” 

Eris nodded along, leaning back in his chair. “No problems with the Winter Court?” 

You rolled your eyes. I have more problems with the current court, if we were being honest. “It’s cold,” you replied. “It’s quiet. But far away enough that we aren’t…” You bit your tongue. “Not that there’s anything wrong with - ”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Eris replied, not shocked with your response. “I understand.”

Just like any other Fae on the continent, he reminded himself: scared of his father. He wasn’t surprised, this would be the perfect town to escape Beron’s tight holds. It wasn’t close enough that he kept it under his nose, monitoring the town and the villagers. It wasn’t particularly useful to him - no major crops or orchards, maybe lumber from the redwoods, but there were far closer regions he could busy himself with. 

But he saw how quickly your brows raised and cheeks turned red at your comment. It was almost as if you’d forgotten he was the High Lord’s son up until that moment. 

Eris was ashamed to carry the Vanserra name. 

He finished off his tea, suddenly uncomfortable with keeping you so late. Maybe the reason you were so nice to him was because of who his father was. You were hosting him out of formality, not friendship or desire - you were probably afraid he’d go running back to the Forest House with your name at the top of his list. 

You reached a hand out to him, watching his lips turn into a frown and his brows narrow as he lost himself in thought. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“If there is anyone who gets it, (Y/N), believe me - I do.” He took a long sip from the mug in his hand, set it down silently, and pushed himself from the seat. His hands fumbled over his coat, swinging it over his shoulders and fastening it shut. “I don’t want to keep you any longer - I’ve intruded quite enough.” He turned to the door, to avoid watching you awkwardly scramble to your feet. The sky was dark, the only light along the street was the glow from the faelights in the windows of the houses along the way. He turned back on his heel to face you, staring up at him, bewildered. “Can I at least walk you home?”

You pressed your lips together, clasping your hands in front of you. “I live upstairs, actually.”

“Ah.” It was all that came from him, which left the male cursing himself once more. Fucking idiot. “Well thank you again, (Y/N).” Back to formalities, back to square one. 

You nodded once more, watching as he turned to the door. As he reached for the handle, you stopped him, grabbing his other hand. His skin was burning hot and sent sparks into you. “You’re welcome anytime here, Eris.” You waited until he turned around, fully acknowledging your words. “And not just because of who your father is.” 

Eris nodded, albeit a bit numbly, as you sent his mind reeling the moment he felt your fingers grasp his. Should I do it?

He wanted to kiss you so badly. So badly that his fingers itched to grab you and pull you against him. You batted your eyelashes at him, all innocent as if you had no idea what you were doing. Maybe you weren’t doing anything - no signals, no invitation to kiss you, love you, fuck you. 

It was all in his head, it had to be. 

He couldn’t compromise your innocence, not when he’d already been seen alone in the cafe with you twice in one day. He could only imagine what the other Fae were thinking, how he’d either besmirched your reputation or created a scandal in the small town. 

“Then I’ll be sure to return more often.” With that, he gave your fingers a squeeze and turned - forcing every fiber of his being not to take you with him. 

_________________________

Eris couldn’t sleep again. Gods, he felt ill. 

He was clammy all over - absolutely disgusting. He’d forced himself from bed and into the bath, letting the cold water wash over him and take away whatever it was he was feeling. His heart was racing out of his chest, his breathing was jagged - it was unlike any other fever he’d had. 

And then he felt it, laying in the cold water of the porcelain tub. It felt like a rubber band snapped against his ribcage. It winded him, had him lurching forward and clutching his chest. He figured the copper taste in his mouth was a figment of his imagination, being no stranger to the taste of blood. Maybe he bit his tongue when he felt the snap, it had his heart lurching upwards into his scarred throat. 

Eris’s fingers gripped the edge of the cold bathtub - he felt the water turning hotter by the second. He couldn’t control the heat that emitted from his body, the simmering flames smothered in his palms. 

That was it.

That was it. 

He wasn’t dying - not if you could call being utterly grossly in love dying. 

His heart hammered in his chest and the fire roared through his veins. It felt like he was suffocating, sure, but it felt good. His hands were shaking, and he knew the only cure would be to have you in them. You were the one who could teach him how to breathe again.

He huffed a long shaky breath, leaning back in the tub until his back touched the now warm ceramic. Curls of steam began to dance on the surface of the water that seemed to be rippling in time with his heartbeat. 

Eris shut his eyes, trying his damndest to clear his head, to calm the fuck down. But all he saw was you, the flour that dusted your cheek, the apron wrapped so tight around your waist he wished it were his hands. He thought of your cheeks, rosy and red from the ovens, your plump lips sipping on tea, how sweet you looked drinking your milky coffee. Then he remembered the shape of your brow, how it quirked downwards when you’d mentioned his father, how you gnawed on that bottom lip of yours when he’d been in such a rush to leave. 

But it didn’t matter what you thought of his father, of the whole damned Autumn Court itself. He’d get on his knees before you to beg, plead for you to understand - it’s not his fault, it’s not him. 

So that’s what he set off to do. 

He pushed himself from the near boiling water, haphazardly drying himself off as he skitted to the wardrobe. He flung it open, opting for a casual pair of brown trousers and a white linen shirt. He ought to be prepared to do a lot of begging, spending the whole morning on his knees begging for you to accept him as a mate, begging for a taste. 

_________________________

It was only seven hours since you’d seen Eris, the whole time you’d spent thinking of him and replaying your latest conversation. It was very much the same after each time you’d seen him, spending the evening tossing and turning, picturing his red hair and soft smile, the freckles over his cheeks and that little scar under his eye. You imagined what it would be like to hold him in your arms, laying on top of you, suffocating you in the best way; you pictured what it’d be like for him to hold you, laying behind you, arms wrapped fully around you, holding you against his chest. 

But you laid in bed alone, staring at the clock until the golden hands ticked to three o’clock. 

You pushed the covers from yourself, shivering at the cold that swept through your bones. You’d gotten better at fighting that fight, the urge to stay in bed and revel in your warmth instead of forcing yourself downstairs at such an early hour. The warm ovens called to you, but you’d have to overcome the chill of the nearly Winter air and the cold hardwood floor. 

You wondered if it would be warmer with Eris there. As if the male just naturally heated every room he walked into - 

No. 

You shook your head, trying to rid the thoughts of the Autumn heir from your mind. You’d only distract yourself. You knew the visit yesterday would have to last you for the rest of the month. You could only begin to count down the days until you anticipated his return. 

So instead, you shuffled down the stairs, pulling open your recipe book and setting out a few bowls. You hadn’t decided the day before what you were making yet - not like you usually did. Your mind had been much too occupied. You settled on figuring it out later, just starting with something simple and figuring out a custard later. With flour dusting the counter, you rolled out some dough, working it until it was so thin that it was almost transparent. A simple croissant surely would do, you’d thought. Maybe you could use up some of the pumpkin or raspberries…

You’d gone rifling around for inspiration when you felt a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the cold of the early morning, nor the chill from the produce cooler. No - it was the hard knock on the door, rattling the closed sign against the wooden frame. 

You bit your lip, debating wiping out all the Faelights - that no doubt alerted whoever was outside that you were in. But you had no choice, as the knock sounded again, softer this time, but still enough to prove your visitor’s determination to talk to you. 

Not once in your centuries of owning the cafe had you had a morning visitor. Nobody had ever shown up before opening, especially not at three in the godsdamned morning.

All you could do was grab your stone rolling pin from the counter, holding it between your two shaky hands as you trotted quietly to the door. But as you stepped around the counter and wove through the tables, you’d spotten a tuft of red hair through the window. 

Red hair, pale skin, long coat, the smell of firewood and burnt sage. 

Your heart stuttered, pure shock replaced with utter bewilderment. Your throat tightened, nervous as to what he may be visiting for - what you may have said that offended him. Then you sighed, dropping your head to stare at the thick cotton dress you wore, the wool sock on your feet. Fuck, you huffed, blowing a piece of hair out of your face. The Mother could not have prepared you less. 

All you could do was pull the door open, holding the rolling pin behind your back. 

And when the door swung open, the cold coming in immediately, Eris’s eyes were blown wide. The red around his dilated pupils glowing against the dark of night. Gods you were so fucking beautiful. His gaze roamed over your messy hair, the loose dress that hung over your shoulders, the cozy looking socks on your feet. 

“Hey,” he said, quieter than intended. He cleared his throat, stepping closer, arms tightly pressed behind his back. “Sorry to - interrupt.” He couldn’t stop - his eyes were roaming, frantically moving between yours, trying not to wander over your body, his mind was reeling, heart was pounding out of his chest. His cheeks were flushed, breathing ragged - the bond was fucking with him. Absolutely fucking with him - he wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to stand in front of you much longer without having to get his hands on you. “I regretted leaving so abruptly last night. I stayed late and should have at least helped you clean up.”

You smiled. He was so serious. Those red eyebrows were raised, mouth parted, almost frowning at the corners - so distraught. “Don’t make a fuss about it - I just like your company.” I miss when you’re not here. I miss your visits. 

I missed you. 

The corner of his mouth turned up, gaze softening at your apparent forgiveness. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. He moved his arm from behind his back, holding up a bundle of blue-ish hydrangeas - the flowers he hadn’t stopped thinking about bringing you. 

It wasn’t inconspicuous, like he hoped it would be. His mother caught on immediately, asking him why he kept inquiring about her flowers, what she’d pulled from the garden. Who are you bringing them for? He’d rolled his eyes at her, scoffing. I’m not bringing them to anyone, mother. I can’t show interest in the garden? So he’d been deterred from bringing them. He didn’t want to draw attention to it - to you - especially not from his father or courtiers. 

Until that night - until he had the perfect opportunity, when everyone was asleep, to snatch them from the table and winnow straight to you.

Your eyes fell to the bunch of flowers, jaw dropped, unable to speak. What did you say? What does one say to the High Lord’s son who brings you flowers. He brought you flowers. You simply couldn’t find the words. But when you looked back up at him, having to tilt your head upwards to meet his gaze, he looked so scared - unsure if you’d accept them, as if he’d made some horrible mistake. 

And you couldn’t help but laugh, having to bite your lip to stop yourself. You didn’t take the flowers, you took his hand, that warm, blazing hot hand, and pulled him inside. “Well, no point in letting all the heat out.” And as if on cure, he lit up, warmth erupting from him, his chest radiating heat into your hand and arm. “Thank you, Eris, I… don’t even know what to say.” You pulled your fingers away from his, taking the bunch of flowers in your free hand.

But you had to place the rolling pin down, having to set it on the table closest to the door. His brows rose. “Preparing for battle, I see.” He surveyed the white stone, nodding his head in approval when he heard the clang of the marble against the iron table. 

You huffed a breathy laugh, ushering him inside and placing them in one of the empty vases from the bookshelf in the corner. You’d set it up on the counter, where everyone would be able to see the beautiful flowers Eris had brought for you. “I was hoping,” he began from behind you, hands shoved into his pants pockets, boot kicking at the thick grout between the stones on the floor. “You might let me help you this morning.”

You turned on your heel, spinning around so fast that you’d nearly startled the normally steadfast male. “You want to help me?”

He nodded. “I’m not very useful - I wouldn’t say I’m the best baker.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I used to help my mother bake apple pie but - ” he finished with a shrug, laughing through his own awkwardness. 

You couldn’t stop your smile. “Of course you can, Eris.” 

And truth be told, the male wasn’t bad. He’d kneaded the dough, he’d prepared the raspberry filling, and even mixed some fresh whipped cream. He’d followed all your instructions and even prepared you a cup of tea in the meantime, while you worked on your own dough at the opposite side of the counter. 

You’d spent far too long watching his hands knead the soft pastry, his long fingers and large knuckles flexing as he pushed the dough around. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt, forearms working with each move. You couldn’t help but notice the few missed buttons at the top of his shirt, pale collar bones peeking out. You’d made out some ridges over his skin, down his neck and tucked away underneath the fabric of his shirt. You couldn’t get a good look at it, not with the dimmed lights and loose shirt. 

He made light conversation, asking about the town, who your favorite patrons were. You’d asked him similar questions, how he likes fencing and polo, he’d indulged you in some childhood stories of wrestling his brothers in the Autumn rain - how they’d tracked mud through the entirety of the Forest House. When it came to his parents, though, the topic was off limits, as he’d scoffed and asked about your parents instead. 

By then, the hours had easily slipped past you - the pastries cooling after their bout in the ovens. Eris leaned against the counter, watching as you sliced the baked pumpkin you held in front of you, scooping the soft contents into a bowl to begin your filling mixture. 

His eyes watched your hands work, unable to meet your eyes, afraid of your response. “I have a confession.” 

You looked up only momentarily, not a stutter in the whisk as you continued mixing. “Confess away,” you replied softly, heart suddenly lurching into your chest. 

He swallowed thickly, but raised his gaze to your face - your focused look - as you stared back down at the bowl. “I - last night after I left - there was a…” He trailed off, sucking in a deep breath. “I felt the…” Eris’s throat was closing. His heart was beating so fast, so hard, that he thought it would break all of his ribs. “I believe we’re mates, (Y/N).”

Your breath caught in your throat, suddenly all air evaded you and your heart seemed to stop. Mates? Mates? Gods, you knew you liked Eris - who wouldn’t? The male was beautiful and tall and kind and -

You swallowed hard. To hide your shaking hands, you continued working on the pastries. You kept you eyes sole trained on the table in front of you, fearful that if you looked up, if you saw those red eyes before you, that you’d surely crumble away in a fit of tears, laughter - you weren’t quite sure.

You were elated.

So fucking elated, in fact, that you didn’t know what to do.

But you didn’t respond. You didn’t make a move - not an eyebrow raise, not a quirk of your lips, nothing. “I know we don’t really know each other - I’ve wanted to stay longer, believe me.” The male rambled on, filling the silence you’d offered. “I just felt this thing last night after I left and it’s been eating me away since and I already knew that I cared for you so much and you’re so - fuck, so godsdamned beautiful but I - ”

You straightened, pulling your shoulders back and dropping the whisk. “It’s okay, Eris.”

His eyes widened. “It’s okay?” What the fuck did that mean?

You’d turned to grab a pastry off the rack - the one you’d kneaded, the one that turned out so much flakier and taller than his. “It’s okay.” You smiled, though, but didn’t falter in your movements, continuing to assemble what looked like a dessert sandwich. 

He stared incredulously at you. “Did you… hear what I said?” 

And so you laughed, a light giggle that had Eris reeling. You pushed over the pumpkin Mille-Feuille, nodding at him as he stared at it like it was otherworldly. “You told me one time you liked the pumpkin turnovers because it was your favorite Autumn Court fruit.”

The male was bug-eyed. “This is for me?”

You nodded.

“Just for me?”

Again, with a smile, you nodded. 

Eris looked between you and the fluffy pastry. “For me?” He raised a hand and gestured between the two of you. 

“Yes, Eris. I made you a pumpkin pastry. For you.” His cheeks tinged pink, but let out a breathy sigh of relief. You added for clarification: “Not on the menu.”

Gods, yes. It was the only thought running through his mind. 

“And even in all that rambling, you haven’t asked me to be your mate,” you continued, voice raised an octave, teasing the poor nervous male. He opened his mouth to interrupt - to ask - but you cut him off. “I would love to be, Eris Vanserra.”

And while his heart rate didn’t slow down, he calmed, shoulders relaxed and eyes shut in relaxation. His hands fell to the treat before him, staring at the perfect little pastry. He could finally breathe again - as if in the past three minutes he’d been stilled, lungs, hands, and mind unable to work properly. 

But Eris dug in anyway, picking up the soft treat like it was the most delicate thing in the world. He took a big bite, holding his free hand underneath, catching all the flakes that broke off, saving every bite. He chewed slowly, licking his lips to savor the pumpkin flavor and the light pastry. His eyes fell to yours, wide and wanting, watching you like a hawk.

You didn’t dare move, frozen in place as the male ate. 

As the bond solidified.

As he became your mate.

By the time he’d finished, his breathing was ragged and he had to press his hands against the counter to keep his balance. You watched his chest rise and fall, the linen shirt loose on his frame but hugged his broad shoulders. Those red eyes burned into yours, as though waiting for you to make the first move. 

Or waiting for your permission. 

So you took a step backward, pushing yourself from where you’d been nearly clinging onto the counter, where it was holding you upright. And as soon as you’d freed yourself from the confines of the countertop, he’d pounced. Eris felt like leaping across the counter and pulling you into his arms. Instead, which might have cost his last ounce of decency, he’d taken the few long strides towards you and grabbed you. 

To be fair, he was as tender as he could have been, what with his heart beating up into his throat and his lungs burning, winding his arms around your back, fingers gripping the cotton that hung loose on your frame. His head dipped, immediately catching your lips with his. You were quick to follow his lead, throwing your arms around his neck and rising on your tiptoes to meet him. 

Gods, he was warm - it was all that you could think of. His heat spread into you, the physical heat, but also those internal flames, the warmth that formed in the center of your chest as the bond built itself between the two of you. Sparks sizzled between you, and you were sure you felt them when your lips met in a fiery kiss. 

Your fingers threaded through your hair as his hands roamed your back. He tasted like cinnamon, like the pumpkin from your mating food, the burnt sage that mirrored in his scent, that filled the cafe as soon as he walked through the door. 

“I don’t know anything about you,” you breathed, a soft sigh against his lips as his mouth skimmed your bottom lip, over your chin, down across your jaw. 

He released something half crossed between a moan and a sigh. “We have time to talk about me,” he whispered against your ear, biting at your soft flesh. “Later.” His lips ran over your cheek again, and he left a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Much, much later.” 

You hummed in response, pressing yourself to his front again, chest, stomachs, legs - all of it. Eris groaned, sinking down on his knees, stopping when he was eye level with you. His red irises burned with an eternal flame, burned into you with the promise of forever. He wrapped his arms fully around your waist, his elbows at your ribs and knees on either side of your legs. He tilted his head forward, only until your lips met, noses brushing against each other. 

Your lips parted on instinct alone, the breath pulled from your lungs when his lips met yours - so soft, barely meeting at all. You could have cried, screamed, grabbed his hair and pulled him further against you. But all he gave you was a touch, so close your eyelashes nearly tangled. His mouth brushed yours again and you snapped - arms linked around him still, pulling him against you. “Upstairs?” You asked, fully against his mouth, the word muffled between your lips and heavy breaths. 

He shook his head, still not breaking the kiss. His hands ran down the small of your back and over your ass, cupping the back of your thighs and pulling you upwards, setting you on the counter in front of him. Eris let his fingers find the hem of your nightgown, trailing over the skin of your bare flesh. You were burning hot, like you ran a fever at his touch. In the cold air, his touch sent shivers down your spine. 

“I can’t wait, (Y/N).” His lips barely left yours. “I have to have you now.”

“Then get on with it,” you mewled, taking his hands in yours and dragging them up your thighs, under the gown. “I’ve been waiting far too long for this, Eris.” 

You leveled his gaze - it struck quite the nerve with him, he never thought he’d succumb to an ethereal being like you, especially not to one he got to call his mate. 

As his hands roamed under your gown, your own explored his chest, running over the lean muscle and pulling at the buttons. You’d pulled them apart one by one, eyes shut and mouth being devoured by Eris. He seemed to pay no mind, working his way to your hips, squeezing at your thighs. You opened the shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, breaking away from him momentarily. 

And Eris felt it, felt it through the fresh bond between you. He felt your heart stutter, felt the shock that flooded your system. 

His heart stopped, lungs held his air hostage. 

And then you’d felt it - the utter disgust and shame that rang through him.

So you raised your hands, holding his jaw in your palms, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone - over the other faint scar that laced his skin. You weren’t sure what to say - if you should say anything at all. But he’d already noticed your surprise. That’s all it was - surprise, not in the hardened male before you, but at that any one male could endure that much pure trauma. You were not disgusted with your mate, not horrified at the scaring.

You we’re just… “What happened to you, my love?”

And he blinked a few times, turning his head in your hands and raising his own hands, holding your wrists in his palms. His throat worked, his mind rolling over the proper response. You moved your hands, dropping them down his cheeks, fingertips grazing the marred skin on his neck, the slashes over his collarbones and down the puckered skin of his chest. His hands remained on yours the whole time, feeling you work your way down his body. 

My love. It made the fire inside of him burn brighter. He imagined you’d felt it too, felt the initial draw toward him like he did to you - even before you were mates. 

“That’s a story for another time.” He whispered, gazing down at you from under his eyelashes. “If you’ll still have me.”

You were almost shocked to hear that - to hear him question your desire to be with him just based on his scars. You wouldn’t expect such doubt from him. So all you could do was sit up a little taller, pull you down to your lips and offer him the most reassuring kiss of his life. 

He made quick work of your dress, unbuttoning the small row of buttons behind your back. You shimmied the dress from under you, where you’d been sitting on the soft fabric, and let Eris bunch it up and drag it up over your sides and arms. He slid it off quickly, discarding it in a pile along with his shirt. His eyes and hands roamed over you, exploring the curves and ridges of your body. 

Your cheeks reddened, so exposed before the male you’d barely known, but longed for him to touch you. You’d thought of this moment many times, during those sleepless nights, some of which ended up leaving you with your hand between your legs. 

Eris felt your blush through the bond, he felt your outright attraction, the desperation you had. And he knew he mirrored it through the bond, too. It’s what made you pull him back into you, until he stepped right up against the counter and the front of those trousers were pressed against your undergarment. He ground against you, unable to hold in the urge as the ferocity flooded his veins, the bond finally taking hold of him now that he had you laid out in front of him. 

You moaned at the feeling, his hardened cock a tent in his pants, slotting perfectly between your lips. He moved up and down, gliding against the warm heat from your pussy, the smooth fabrics only aiding in his desperation - your too. Gods, you could have come from that alone should he only have kept going. 

But the male wasn’t having it. He kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his pants, shucking both along your kitchen floor, discarded for what he hoped would be the next few days. 

Eris’s cock bounced up against his stomach as he neared you, the precum gathered on the tip mixing into the fine pale hairs that trickled down his bellybutton to the base of his cock. Eris wouldn’t even touch himself, deciding it would be fucking ethereal, should you reach out and grab him. 

And, luckily, you did, holding your hand out for him to step back into position. Your hand wrapped around his dick, fully hard and standing proud. You’d surely need two hands to work him properly, perhaps even your mouth, too. His skin was warm in your palm, hot and ready to combust as you ran your hand up and down, offering him a small squeeze as you neared the base, your thumb rubbing the tip when it slid up.

You couldn’t hold out much longer, either. You’d pressed him up right against your pussy as he just did, leaning back on your other elbow so you could further spread your hips. You held his cock with your other hand still, pressing it into your pussy. Eris began to rock, back and forth, back and forth, wincing at how wet your pussy sounded. His cock glided along your cunt effortlessly.

He braced a hand on the counter, on either side of you, and held his hips back. He let you continue to rub his dick as he leaned in close for a chaste kiss. He rubbed his nose against your ear, hot air stirring around you. “Are you going to let me fuck you, my love?” 

You moaned - you’d heard many tales of the trickster male’s wicked tongue, but hadn’t been granted the opportunity to hear him use it around you. You were very much looking forward to exploring that side of him. 

Gone was the chamomile drinking, flower giving High Lord’s son. This was Eris, hot and heady and ready.

His one hand moved over to hold yours, moving your fingers to grab his cock and angle it into you. You gasped as the head nudged your folds, pushing only the tiniest bit in. You clenched around nothing, as he rocked back and forth, the head moving against your entrance but not in. “Will you let me mate you? Fill you up? Claim you?”

“Gods, yes,” you moaned, trying to move off the counter even closer to him, to inch his dick farther into you. “Please, Eris. My mate - ” 

You were cut off with a harsh gasp, Eris sunk halfway in as you rambled on. “Oh my gods - please.” 

He moved slowly, warming you up to his length. “Still so much more for you,” he murmured, holding your hand against your lower stomach. He pressed it softly into you, around your soft flesh, so you could feel him enter in you as he pushed his cock all the way, bottoming out.

He held there for a moment, reveling in how you squeezed your walls around him. It was unlike anything he felt before. The roaring in his chest from the bond fed straight into his cock - willing him to drive into you over and over and over. 

But as much as he wanted to hold himself back, he found himself moving faster and faster, hitting farther inside of you with each stroke. Your moans spurred him on - your gasps, your prayers to the Mother - to him. 

Your hands fell around you, gripping anything you could find, looking to anchor yourself on something, anything. 

“You feel so good, (Y/N).” He huffed, breathing becoming ragged as he fucked into you. “I can’t believe I’ve waited this long for you.”

His cock stretched you, the familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach already causing you to clench around him. “You have me, Eris, fuck.” He grabbed your hips, holding you still, driving into you harder. “Please, more, Eris.” 

So he rutted into you, Eris hooked his knee onto the counter, pushing himself up, joining you on the floury surface. Your arms splayed out, knocking over bowls and eggs, ingredients falling to the floor and clinging to your sweaty skin. He hooked his knees around either side of your hips, positioning himself directly above you, driving straight down into your wet pussy. 

He groaned - an estranged deep noise coming from the male’s throat. His one hand was positioned beside your head, holding himself above you - though, you wouldn’t care if that male suffocated you, if he laid all the weight he’d been holding all his life onto you - the other came to cradle your cheek, holding your jaw with his thumb brushed against your chin. Your breathing mixed with Eris’s, your shared air, heat, love. You sighed, feeling his cock drive deep into you, hit the deep spot inside of you - he stretched you, seeped into you, molded into you. 

He fucked you so hard that you felt yourself moving, inching closer to the edge of the counter. Your hair fell first, starting to fall over your shoulders and off the counter. But Eris held your head, cradled you as you neared the edge, feeling your stomach coil at the rhythmic pounding in your pussy. 

Eris didn’t stop until you came, until your fingernails dug into his biceps and you screamed his name. He followed behind you quickly, his hips snapping into yours until he painted you white, with his cum that marked the bond. He claimed you as his, and silently thanked the Mother for her blessing. 

His bright eyes washed over you, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, lips swollen and bruised from his kisses, crying out for him. He watched how our brows knitted together, your skin was flushed with a pink blush. He committed everything to memory, the heave of your chest, the sweat across your collarbone, your throat working to gasp air. 

He pulled out of you, dastardly watching the mix of both of your cum slide out of your pussy. He longed to feel it, to drag his finger up your sweet cunt, to lick it up. He knelt above you, pushing himself off the counter and grabbing your hips, pulling you centered on the tabletop. You huffed a sigh, arms limp and covered in flour at your sides. 

His warm fingers caressed your hips, your thighs, the muscles burning from being spread so wide. You dragged a hand over his arm, up his shoulder until you met the back of his neck. Your fingers brushed through the back of his red curls. “We made quite the mess.” You were tired, sounded so breathless - it nearly made Eris’s knees wobble. 

He laughed, though, a hearty chuckle, quite proud of his creation. He surveyed the messy kitchen, in no shape to bake, to serve anything made from or around the mess that had become evidence of your mating bond. But after pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, the male was off, walked those long legs to the counter and scribbled down a note on a piece of scrap paper beside your recipe book. 

Even his handwriting was beautiful. “Closed until further notice.” 

He rushed back to you, scooping you in his arms, holding you tightly against him, even as you broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Now you can show me this upstairs I’ve heard so much about.” And you knew right then that you’d be riding the high of your mating frenzy until Eris had learned every inch of you.

[funkybarnes]

happy birthday, bugs!

pairing: actor!SebastianStan x bookstore!owner!female reader.

summary: Sebastian, as weirdly as it is, giving his career and your condition as a non-famous person, is your best friend. And today is his birthday. And you can't miss, for nothing in this world, the opportunity of being the first person to give him a little gift.

warnings: too cute, not much more than that.

trope: best friend to lovers. (possibly a series to be written in the future)

word count: almost 1K. (a little short, since is my first time posting a fic)

> means message sent from you to him.

< means message received from him.

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SEBASTIAN, this is my little gift for his fans and for him. I hope he's having the best day ever. Anyways, please feel free to reblog, comment and interact! I do not allow to copy, repost or translate this work. Also, I want to clarify that english is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, bare with me.

The clock strikes midnight on a surprisingly warm night right in the middle of August when Sebastian was packing some clothes for the trip. Not a minute passed and he heard his phone making the sound he had chosen for your notifications.

> Y/n: "hey, are you at home?"

< Seb: "uhm, yeah, why?"

> Y/n: "are you alone?"

He looked at the phone with a frown, wondering what crazy thought was on your mind.

< Seb: "yes, weirdo, I am alone"

< Seb: "are you coming?"

> Y/n: "I was going to ask you if I could go"

< Seb: "of course you can, silly"

> Y/n: "good, cause I'm already outside!"

Sebastian took his eyes from the phone and looked at the door, and went straight to it. Walked a few steps to the stairs and went to open the main door for you. The image he encountered made him melt a little.

You were standing in the stairs, a little birthday chocolate dessert made from scratch with some candles on top in your hands, and when you saw him opening the door, you started to sing happy birthday to him.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, Sebastian! Happy birthday to you!" you sang with a huge smile on your face, and when he went down a little to blow the candles you stopped him. "Wait, I have to sing it in spanish too" you stated seriously and he laughed and let you go on with the show.

Once you finished singing he blew the candles and let you come inside. "I would have sang in Romanian but you know I don't know how" you joked while entering so he could close the door.

You gave him a big hug before heading to the stairs to his apartment. "Did you think that I would forget?"

"How can you forget?" he talked behind you, watching you as you opened his apartment door and let yourself in. "Thank you, Y/n"

"You have to teach me how to sing it in Romanian for next year, old man" you pointed your finger at him while talking after leaving the little birthday dessert on his kitchen counter. "How much is it? Like one hundred and two, right?"

He came behind you and shook your hair playfully. "Ha-ha, very funny, you're ten years younger, so I'm dragging you with me, ninety years old lady"

You frowned pretending to be offended as you watched him go upstairs, so you followed him, making your hair presentable again. "Hey, that's not funny! You wish you were a thirty year old woman!"

You heard him chuckle gravely, making your stomach flick a little bit, as he put some stuff in a suitcase. You took a seat on his bed following every step he made with your eyes. Before you could ask, he spoke, as if he knew what you were going to ask.

"Some friends invited me to a trip for my birthday, it's a surprise so I have no idea where I'm going" he laughed between words. "You think they'll kidnap me?"

You made a serious face and frowned, making a funny expression "oh, yeah, definitely, you're never coming back, bugs. This is the end of your era!" You threw a pillow from his bed to his head while laughing. "In fact, I think you'll be eaten by sharks and sea monsters. Worst one hundred and two birthday ever, and you don't get those very much"

He laughed loudly, coming to you with the pillow you threw at him in his hands, ready for the impact in your face. "Oh, shut up, you're so dramatic". He ran after you when you got up avoiding his strike, but he got you, wrapping you in his arms and dragging you with him to the ground.

You both laughed on the ground, a little sore from the impact, and ended up lay down, side by side, looking at the ceiling. A moment of silence later you turned your head to look at him. "You will have fun, don't worry".

He turned his head to you too, looking directly at your eyes, comfortable silence between the two. Then he took your hand in his and, as usual, you started to gently caress his, and his yours. "Yeah, but never as much fun as I have with you."

You turned your head to the ceiling again, trying to hide the blush in your face from him. He copied your action, but kept the caresses in your hand, bringing it up so you both could see the conjunction of yourselves.

As you both kept your eyes on the ceiling, breathing peacefully, time went by, the sides of your heads barely touching, closer than before.

"You should eat your dessert, I made it myself", you spoke a few minutes later, remembering the little chocolate delight you made this afternoon, just for him.

"I will, I'm just enjoying this" he whispered softly, almost closing his eyes and relaxing.

You doubted yourself for a second, but took courage after thinking twice. Then, you quickly got up, a little, just enough so you could gently put your lips to his, in a sweet but short kiss that he couldn't almost react to.

"Happy birthday, bugs", your whisper almost inaudible, just like your kiss, barely there.

[sainzfilm]

charles leclerc x bookstore owner!reader pls? :)

pairing: charles leclerc x bookstore owner!reader

a/n: god….this trope is just the cutest thing and idk i love it and it’s such an adorable meet cute 🤭 hope you like this, lovely!! :)

taglist: @svechyaho @squderia @idkiwantchocolatee @koufaxx @melonunicornbby @myescapefromthislife @leclerclvr @slut-era @pachiibatt @nicolesainz @cosmicleclerc @sidcrosbyspuck @barzysreputation

join my taglist here!

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Charles took a sip of his coffee, waiting for his change from the cashier at the café he decided to spend his afternoon in. Breezy afternoon, kids and teenagers roaming around Monaco, the smell of pastries at the nearby bakery – it was a pretty perfect day.

Although, curiosity sparked inside Charles as he looked out the window to see children running across the street to what looked like a quaint little bookstore.

“Hey, uh,” Charles looked at the cashier momentarily before pointing at that store, “La librairie là-bas est-elle neuve?” Is that bookstore over there new?

“Ouais c'est ça,” The cashier nodded, handing the change and receipt to Charles, “Les enfants, les adolescents et les adultes l'adorent. J'ai entendu dire que le propriétaire est une gentille fille.” Yeah it is. Kids, teenagers, and adults love it. I heard the owner is a nice girl.

Charles shoved the change in his pocket, thanking the cashier with a smile and walking out the café and towards the bookstore.

The tiny bell attached above the door softly rang as Charles entered, making his presence known to the not-so-quiet bookstore. Children of different ages were gathered on the floor, seated on pillows, while they listened to what he thought could have been the most soothing voice he’s heard.

“And in the end, Goldilocks made sure that she will user her own chair, bed, and eat her own porridge,” You read to the children, closing the book and smiling at them, “As-tu aimé?” Did you like it?

As the children eagerly expressed their agreement to your question, you looked up to give the Monégasque a small smile before redirecting your attention to the children in front of you.

Charles figured out that you must’ve been the nice girl the cashier was talking about – he would definitely agree from how the children fawned over you. As he walked down the aisle of shelves, he hummed to himself and skimmed his fingers through the spines lined up.

“Bonjour! Tu dois être nouveau,” You smiled as you stood beside him, taking off your storytelling hat, “Vous cherchez un livre en particulier?” Hello! You must be new here, are you looking for a specific book?

It would be an understatement if Charles were to say he was…enamored. Maybe more of like ‘Oh my god, you have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen and perhaps you’re the most beautiful woman I laid my eyes on.’

“Bonjour, oui, je suis nouveau ici,” Charles chuckled, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “No no, I just wanted to see if anything…catches my eye.” Hello, yeah, I’m new here.

“Well, we do have a few books of the month right by the counter,” You replied, pointing towards the table, “Most people would make a beeline for it if they’re undecided.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” He nodded with a smile, “So, are you new here? Around Monaco?”

Before you could reply, a little girl ran over and started tugging at your coat, “Mademoiselle Y/N! J'ai choisi ces livres de princesse pour que je les achète aujourd'hui!” Miss Y/N! I picked these princess books out for me to buy today.

“Claire, calme-toi,” You laughed, patting her head gently and turning back to Charles, “Sorry, my favorite customer seems to be eager today. I’ll be at the counter if you need anything.” Claire, calm down.

As Claire held onto your hand and dragged you to the counter, Charles laughed softly before following you to the counter and checking out the books lined up for the month.

“Il semble que vous ayez économisé beaucoup d'argent, Claire,” You grinned, scanning the books and looking down at the little girl, “Have you finished the other books you bought yesterday?” It looks like you saved a lot of money, Claire.

“Bien sur, Mademoiselle! Maman me récompense pour faire des corvées,” Claire giggled and tiptoed over the counter, “All done! Will I get a new bookmark?” Of course, Miss! Mama rewards me for doing chores.

“That’s good to hear, Claire,” You smiled and reached over to ruffle up her hair, “Of course, you will. In fact, get another book, my gift for you.”

Claire squealed in delight before running off back to the aisles, giving Charles an opening for him to approach you once more, “That’s actually real nice of you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Claire’s a delight to have here in the bookstore,” You smiled fondly, putting the bookmarks in between the books, “And to answer you, I moved here a few years back.”

“I guess I don’t end up on this side of the street often,” Charles laughed, “Odd that I’ve missed out on it.”

“Well, I guess things come in your life when you need it,” You shrugged with a smile, leaning over the counter to welcome back a smiling Claire, “What’s that you picked out?”

“It’s about a prince meeting this princess, mademoiselle!” Claire exclaimed, pushing the book up on the counter, “I read the back and it said, après avoir longtemps cherché l'amour, le prince l'a finalement trouvé au moment où il s'y attendait le moins.” After looking for love for the longest time, the prince finally found it when he least expected it.

“Maybe you’ll get your own prince, Claire,” You tapped her nose and packed the remaining book inside the bag, “Before you leave, quel est notre mot du jour?” What’s our word of the day?

“Notre mot du jour est le destin!” The little girl giggled, grabbing the paper bag from you, “See you on Thursday, mademoiselle!” Our word of the day is destiny!

Charles looked up from the book he was reading. Destiny. Would stumbling upon your bookstore and what you had just discussed with Claire be completely coincidental?

“So, what reeled you in here today?” You smiled and turned your attention back to him, “If you’ve said that you never crossed this side of the street.”

“Well, maybe destiny,” He nonchalantly replied with a small smile on his face, “It definitely won’t be the last time I’m crossing this side of the street.”

Leaning over the counter and holding your hand out, you smiled, “My name’s Y/N.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Charles smiled, shaking your hand and feeling a bit of butterflies erupting in his stomach, “I’m Charles.”

Who knew that an impulsive decision to visit your bookstore could lead to something magical – such as possible love? Charles mentally thanked himself and whatever Gods existed out there because he definitely believes in destiny now.

bonus scene!

Charles whistled as he leaned against the wall, rubbing his hands together and checking his watch. 7:48 am. You were supposed to arrive 18 minutes ago.

“I’m here! I’m here,” You exclaimed, panting and leaning over your knees as you caught your breath, “Why are you here so early?”

“The question is why are you late?” Charles chuckled, handing your morning coffee, “I told you, I’m helping out.”

“Overslept. I was looking at books to order online,” You grumbled, unlocking the door and taking off your coat, “Is this your way to get me to say yes?”

“Oh please,” Charles scoffed, flipping the sign to signify the store was open, “I know you already will.”

“Can’t believe I’m dating a guy with a big ego,” You laughed, setting up the register, “What makes you think so?”

Grinning as he leaned over the counter, Charles replied, “No reason. A certain misdial could say so.”

Freezing in your place, your eyes widened as you groaned and covered your face in your hands, “Oh mon dieu. You jerk! You could’ve ended the call!”

“It was cute, you rambling about how you thought I was such a dashing prince,” He chuckled, reaching over to squish your cheeks and kissing your nose, “Nice to hear you call me your boyfriend though.”

Mumbling with a pout, you rolled your eyes and sighed in defeat, “I hate you.”

Charles shrugged, scrunching his nose and grabbing the feather duster to wander off to the aisles, “The more you hate, the more you love!”

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Carter and Lovecraft, by Jonathan L. Howard (2015)

I really wanted to like this book.

I've read a few Lovecraft novels and stories, and I liked them. So when I saw this on my friend's bookshelf, I borrowed it, and read it.

Tried to.

The first real fly in the ointment? NYPD protag sees his partner take a 9mm retirement in front of him on a creepy case, and becomes a private detective. Mysterious lawyer shows up at his office one day and says there was a bookstore owner in Providence, Rhode Island, who has been missing and just declared dead.

The protag gets the bookshop. He's not sure why.

Protag goes to the bookshop. Owner's niece, Emily, is there. She's been running the shop alone since the owner vanished, and she co-ran it when he was alive. Also, she's biracial. Would be played by Zoe Kravitz in the movie, he thinks.

Her name is Lovecraft.

As in, she's a descendant of ol' Howard Philips.

She notes the irony; a black-ish "mulatto" descendant of an anti-black racist.

"Okay," I think, as I checked the publication date. "You've gotten that token bit out of the way. Now, can we move on?"

Apparently not.

As protag starts looking into the disappearance and other weird stuff, he decides he needs to get his eye in. So he goes to a gun range, where he needs to sign up for the NRA first

and ends the session by "re-engaging the safety" on his Glock.

Fun fact: stock Glocks don't have manual safeties, AFAIK.

In the next chapter, protag thinks about how he used the gun. He hates the NRA and the whole "gun fetish" thing, but he needs the iron, just in case.

Two strikes. Three if you count the safety thing.

Yes, I know an NYPD cop might be a bit bigoted about the issue, especially considering how his partner died. But it really feels like the writer's opinion.

In fact, let me just-

Yep. The writer is British. This sounds awfully familiar.

It was about this time that I realized something. The protagonist has no traits that aren't directly related to being a cop or detective. Absolutely none.

I don't think we know what he does in his off hours. No friends. Nothing but the job.

Heck, Miss Lovecraft has more personality than him, and she takes up a lot less screen time.

Protag decides to give Lovecraft half the business, so he can become a silent partner. People start dying in physically impossible ways - like the dude who drowned in his dry car in a parking lot - our hero looks into it.

He also ends up learning about a local family, the Waites. Rich, keep to themselves on their own land, been around since before the area was officially settled, apparently.

The local who tells him about all this says the younger ones are oddly attractive. The family has distinctive big eyes.

Anyone remotely familiar with HP Lovecraft just went "Oh, right, they're fishmen. Got it." I've seen this trope done better before, like in the comic Shadowgirls.

Hero looks into the archives, finds records of a racist Town Council rant by an early Waite, back when they were still into trading. Including slaves. Specifically, patriarch Newton Waite went to a council meeting and said black people should serve others, and shouldn't have self-determination.

The archivist intern says it's was "a different time", and that's just how people were back then.

Of course, he adds "People who talk like that now - no pass for them."

End scene.

Like this extremely mainstream, boring opinion is some kind of

In the next scene, protag chats about the fit he had near the Waite place. Learns about another mysterious death. When he chats about it with Emily, he suddenly realizes she's hot.

Then the narration tells us that he was a racist bigot in his teens, though he thought he was being sensible at the time. He now knows he was wrong, but he still feels sparks of it when he reads about some black kid doing some stereotypically black thing, which gives certain white people "a hard-on of righteousness".

And, of course, his time spent walking away from "instinctive racism" means his dating pool opened up. Like Emily Lovecraft, for example.

The most stereotypically black thing would probably be crime. Or being a single mom or deadbeat dad.

 Sadly, I know of plenty of black people - from my black majority home country - who fall into one of those categories. Or two. Three if you include "poverty", but we're Developing, so that barely even counts.

Also, this basically came out of nowhere. Not Emily being hot - I mean, look at Zoe Kravitz - but his unsolicited thoughts on racism.

All of these issues have also been issues for many concerned black people. For decades. The 'stereotypically black things' might be bad themselves, not because they make racist white people feel smug.

This is precisely where I closed the book for good. I would've put away the bookmarks, but I needed the page so I could write this rant.

Honestly, writing all this made me realize that I should've given up long before I made it halfway through the book. But I just kept hoping it would get better.

Doing the same well-worn cliches in a modern setting doesn't really make them interesting. Neither do the little 'racism is bad, mmmkay?' bits.

[novelcain]

the thought of reader being a florist/baker/bookstore owner by day and basically jessica rabbit at night as a side hustle gives me life, like wukong adores the adorable and sassy shop owner but is also attracted to reader's alter ego the mysterious and alluring performer gives me life,

like wukong is having a crisis because he really likes reader, while reader just looks at like : are you okay there? you look like you're borderline having an existential crisis, please do it somewhere else, you're freaking my customers out

shdovuhov OR because I love the trope of someone having a completely different personality when they're their alter ego imagine that reader is actually super shy and soft spoken during her day job but when she's at the club she takes on a whole new personality and becomes super confident and seductive

like imagine Wukong regularly goes to this little hole in the wall bookstore for some much needed quiet time and he's always tried making moves on the cute little librarian but every time he makes a move her face turns bright red and she runs away stuttering which Wukong thinks is just the cutest thing and then ONE NIGHT he goes with his friends to a strip club to let off some steam when he catches a familiar scent.

He looks around for a quick second before his attention is pulled back to the main stage where ofc they have the front row seats by the DJ announcing the next dancer and low and behold who does he see sashaying up to the poll but his cute little bookworm.

At first, she doesn't realize it's him, but after realizing, followed by a moment of panic, she comes to the conclusion that the lighting is pretty low so he probably doesn't recognize her with all the makeup. BUT LITTLE DOES SHE KNOW HE CAN SEE HER PERFECTLY THANK YOU GOLDEN EYES OF TRUTH

And after a particularly stunning maneuver in the air, he holds a hundred dollar bill for her, and without thinking about it she slides down to her hands and knees and crawls over and pushes out her chest so he could slip the bill between her tits. And it's at that exact moment that she realizes she making direct. eye. contact.

And he is looking like the monkey that caught the weasel~

"I never imagined this would be how I got to see you out of those oversized sweaters, but I can't say I'm disappointed~"

[goldthorn-archive]

Self Rec Tag

ty @caustinen for the tag! (btw i adore your hollywood au!!)

He May Be The Reason | clegan

aka the notting hill au. my first chaptered fanfic and it’s been so fun to write. going to do my best to finish it in the next few weeks. sort of a bookstore/actor au mashup, w hollywood heartthrob Gale Cleven and travel bookshop owner John Egan. John gets to be british, little brother Croz, miscommunication and pining tropes galore. + it will have a happy ending, as promised by my recent post-main-fic oneshot

No Proof, One Touch | clegan

written for the wota summer event bc i wanted to write “it’s too hot for hugs” and fell a lil in love with describing the boys pre-war and pre-relationship. the pining of it all. the noticing.

Sugar Coated (Melting in Your Mouth) | clegan

john on his knees. john mouthing at gale’s crotch. face sitting. gale asking for what he needs. john taking care of gale. it’s got it all, what else can i say

Baby, My Tongue Goes Numb | crossdavis/the bikeriders

the first instalment in the honey you need it-verse. not chronologically, but the first one i wrote. working title was “benny gag fest” which i think is a pretty good summary. this one fried my brain to write, literally couldn’t look at the word “tongue” after. multiple orgasms, praise kink, breath play, tongue clamp, overstimulation, subspace, this one is so! much!

Already Know What You Got Going On Down There | crossdavis/the bikeriders

the other honey you need it fic i’ve posted. was supposed to be a drabble but became longer (oh nooo). benny in a lil blue nightie trying to get johnny’s attention. ends w a lil spank <3

tagging @nicijones @soliloquy-dawn @swifty-fox

[theyarnmaidstale]

4. Coffee Shop AU + 73. Stranded due to inclement weather for Polin pls! 👀😍

Jax!

I hope it is everything you've ever dreamed of <3

The Summary:

“It’s going to take more than clever words and a charming smile to fix…,” Penelope gestures between the two of them, “this.” Colin nods, looking at Pen before tossing a look over his shoulder at the storm raging outside the shop window. “I’ve got time.”

The Premise:

Pen is a coffee shop and bookstore owner running the place during a freak snowstorm when Colin, the man she thought she’d never see again, comes swirling back into her life. They haven’t spoken since their fight years ago, a huge gap of space between them that neither feels like they traverse.  Except now it looks like they’re not going to have much of a choice.

and now for my incoherent rambling

but yessss I would blend these together so hard. Just the forced proximity of it all, the rebuilding their relationship after so many years apart, after everything that's happened between them.

but the gist is Colin, trying to escape the storm, ducks into a shop owned by none other than Pen, his former best friend and confidant. and there's tension and some yearning and nostalgia and rebuilding and making up and it'd be so !!!!!

send me fanfic trope mashups

[catsukiiee]

# IF YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING NICE TO SAY, THEN SHUT UP!

౨ৎ prohero!katsuki bakugou x bookstore!owner!fem!reader. | Chapter 6 . FINAL CHAPTER | SEASON 1 OVER.

wordcount ; 2,688

paragraphs ; 79

sentences ; 162

other chapters here.

songs for this chapter.

— johnny by faye webster / here [ opening song ]

— painted pigeon by mieke / here [ bakugou's pov / thoughts about reader ]

— mis by alex g / here [ recommend listening to the song during the end for extra effect, totally won't break your heart <3 ]

ending credits ;

— throw the dog a bone by george draper / here

— voice memo 3: i found a dead cat last week by mieke / here

readers appearance prompt ;; readers appearance prompt ; short spiky ruffled black hair with faded pink tips from a dye attempt, stands at 5'4, slightly muscular, dark olive toned skin, golden yellow eyes.

readers quirk prompt ;; weightless [ allows you to manipulate gravity, making both objects and humans lighter or so heavy they physically can't move themselves or an object. if used at 100% and used on a focus point can cause something or someone to emplode. ]

tropes ; miscommunication (i think?), unrequited love.

content ; angsty-ish , romance.

katsuki bakugou is 27 here instead of his canon age of 24, reader is around katsuki's canon age (20s)

Waking up early, sticking to a morning routine, eating and drinking healthily, and then driving to open your bookstore had become a comforting ritual. However, as the weather grew colder, things began to change.

With an influx of customers seeking warmth and comfort, you found yourself baking more treats and hunting for new books to add to your shops collection, as people flocked to your cozy shop to enjoy pastries and good reads during the chilly season.

Your young employee didn’t seem to mind the increased workload, often staying late to help you prepare for the next day.

This routine felt oddly reassuring, a repetitive cycle that brought you a sense of calm. You were so absorbed in this tranquility that thoughts of… him had slipped from your mind.

“But now I’m thinking about you again…” You sighed softly, rolling a piece of thick dough between your flour-dusted hands, a sharp ache piercing your heart as you took a deep breath.

It had been six months since you last saw Bakugou, six months since your last conversation. His icy gaze and the words exchanged replayed in your mind, causing you to knead the dough with more force than necessary.

“Why are you manhandling the dough?”

Startled by the sudden interruption to your thoughts, you turned to find your young coworker beside you, a tray of freshly baked pastries in her hands and a look of concern on her face.

“I’m not manhandling anything, just preparing it,” you replied, trying to sound calm as you offered her a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Her worried expression deepened, and she managed a half-hearted smile in return. “Sure.”

Before you could say anything else, she left the kitchen to display the pastries up front, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts.

The months of peace you had once enjoyed now felt like a distant memory.

In the midst of the heartache consuming your life, an unexpected change did happen: the brown-haired man you had given direction to before began frequenting your shop. Unbeknownst to you, he often watched you when you weren’t aware, and whenever your eyes met, he greeted you with warm smiles. Regular customers began to take notice of his secretive glances and your obliviousness to them, whispering about you two when you weren't around.

The following day, as you stood at the front of the store restocking newly arrived books, the cozy atmosphere filled with Christmas music and light conversation, you heard a familiar voice say, “Hey there.” Turning around, you couldn’t help but beam as his warm brown eyes met yours. “Hey,” you responded, your voice light and your heart skipping a beat, warmth rushing to your ears as you looked up at him.

He glanced around the shop before returning his gaze to you, his eyes growing soft, the same soft gaze that always made your heart race. “You look busy today. Do you need help with anything? I know I’m not one of your employees, but…” His voice trailed off, leaving the offer hanging. For a moment, you were lost in his gaze, feeling flustered.

Quickly, you cleared your throat and looked away. “Uh, there’s a shelf I have trouble reaching. Could you help me with that?”

Jesus, it’s been ages since a man made me feel this flustered…

The thought slipped away, the flustered feeling in your belly began to sour slightly. You could only smile and nod in appreciation as he picked up the cardboard box of books and made his way to the shelf you had pointed out.

Why am I feeling guilty? It was my own mistake to be drawn to such a fiery, self-centered guy. But he never acted that way with me… Am I really that desperate for a guy who doesn’t want me?

With a deep frown, You turned your gaze to the large front windows, looking out at the street. Snow hadn’t fallen yet, but the chilly air hinted it was on its way. You always loved the snow; it adds a beautiful touch to the shop’s autumn ambiance. Shaking yourself free from your thoughts, You approached the man, handing him books as you two restocked the shelves together.

“So, are you free tonight?” He asked, voice calm and light. His question caught you off guard, and the book you were about to hand him fell back into the box with a thud. You blinked a few times, slowly meeting his gaze, only to find he was already looking at you expectantly. “What?” you managed to say.

He grinned at your surprise, then reached into the box to grab a random book and set it on the shelf before facing you completely. “I was just wondering if you’d like to go on a date?” He suggested with a nervous laugh, taking your hands into his. “You don’t have to say yes, but I’d really like it if you did.”

It felt like fate was toying with you. Just as you were about to respond, the shop door jingled open. A man with spiky red hair entered, hand in hand with a pink-skinned woman sporting pink hair. Then, a familiar green-haired guy stepped in, followed by... him.

Your heart stopped, and so did your breath. You felt frozen, unable to move. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, his hands in his pockets as he scanned the shop, but you could see him fidgeting—clearly nervous. When your eyes finally met, his expression softened for a flicker of a second, but then the tough exterior returned, red eyes glaring down at something. You instinctively looked down to see what had made him tense.

Oh.

Your hands were still intertwined with the other man's. You glanced back up at the brown haired man, but he was focused entirely on the group that had just arrived. “Wow, I didn’t know Pro Heroes shopped here,” he said, looking down at you with a warm smile. “I should let you go; it would be rude to keep them waiting. Just let me know if you decide, okay?” He squeezed your hands and brought them to his lips, kissing your knuckles. Instead of feeling flustered, an anxious twist settled in your stomach.

As he walked toward an empty table, all you could concentrate on was Bakugou, who was glaring at the man’s retreating figure, his expression dark.

xxx

Katsuki Bakugou POV.

First Person This Time.

When Midoriya suggested I talk to her after I'd spent months complaining about her, I never expected him to drag me to her shop the very next day. Had I known, I wouldn’t have agreed—it's not that I was nervous, because no woman could make me feel that way. But the moment I saw her wide eyes, everything I had convinced myself of vanished.

She looked beautiful standing there in a brown sweater and jeans, her slightly dirty black and white Converse shoes completing the look. Her dark hair had grown since I last saw her, now just above her shoulders, spiky like Kirishima’s at the edges, with faded pink tips still lingering.

It took everything within me to suppress a smile; grinning at her right then didn’t seem wise. Just as I was about to take a step toward her, I noticed her hands intertwined with those of a man, who was grinning at me like he owned the place.

That fucking asshole—I never wanted to smash someone’s face into a window so badly in my life. A wave of disgust washed over me as he looked down to smile at her, and the way she gazed up at him made me feel even worse. She was meant to be mine. She belonged to me.

“"Kacchan?" Izuku leaned closer, his freckled face filled with concern. He had one arm around my shoulder, trying to guide me to the table where Kirishima and Mina were sitting, but I was frozen in place. I wanted to approach her, take her hands, express my apologies, and tell her… that I…

Love her. I'm in love with her.

"Kacchan, come on, don’t just stand there." Izuku pulled on me with more urgency this time. "I’m coming, so quit pushing me," I grumbled, making my way to the table and taking a seat. Kirishima flashed me an encouraging smile, joined by Izuku's. All I wanted to do was punch them both.

"What if I go talk to her?" Mina chimed in suddenly, tilting her head as she looked at me. "Girl to girl."

Girl to girl?

"Sure, but that won’t magically solve anything," I scoffed, slumping down in my chair with my arms crossed. Mina frowned at me, shaking her head. "And whose fault is that?" Before I could respond, she was up and out of her seat, her words cutting deeper than they should have.

I've never been one to experience excessive anxiety; even back in high school, it never affected me. It wasn't until now, watching Mina approach her with a friendly smile, that I truly understood how suffocating it could be. Seeing her smile in return made my heart feel lighter—I've always loved that smile of hers.

Watching their conversation was torture; I desperately wanted to know what they were discussing. Her eyes sparkled with laughter, and her grin widened at something Mina said. Mina suddenly grabbed her hand and turned to look at me, Kirishima, and Izuku, waving at us with her other hand. My attention wasn’t really on Mina, though; it was on her, as her gaze remained fixed on me.

Damn it, I’m nervous.

She seemed a bit anxious too, giving Mina shy smiles while trying to wave her off. My heart nearly jumped into my throat as Mina started to pull her closer, the flustered feeling inside me matched the bashful expression on her face.

“Here he is! Katsuki Bakugou,” Mina announced, looking back and forth between me and her, her bright smile slowly faltering until it transformed into a full frown. “I can't keep up this act anymore, come on, you two, just talk. I'm sick of seeing Bakugou all gloomy.”

I swear, I could strangle this woman.

Wincing internally, I met her gaze. The coldness I had saw that day was completely gone, neither of us said a word. The silence was eventually broken by a young girl who wrapped her arms around my woman’s. “Sorry, but I need my boss for something,” she said hurriedly before dragging her away.

Mina plopped down in her seat, crossing her arms over the table. “She's lovely.”

Damn right she is.

xxx

Reader's POV.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” You groaned, covering your mouth with one hand.

Your young employee took a step back, her face twisted in disgust. “Ew, turn your face that way if you’re going to.”

This little shit.

She had saved you from an awkward conversation with Bakugou, and you were somewhat grateful for it. Standing there in front of him and his friends had left you completely frozen, your mind blanking at the worst possible moment.

“You totally froze up, you know.”

“Shut up.”

For the rest of the day, you stuck to the back of the shop, sending your employee out to take orders while you prepared them. It was a monotonous cycle until closing time. When you finally ventured back to the front, Bakugou and his friends were long gone, leaving a lingering disappointment in your gut.

“Hurry up, it’s freezing,” The young girl complained, hugging herself tight despite wearing a thick jacket. “Oh, come on, we just stepped outside.” After double-checking the door was locked, you turned to her and crossed your arms as you both started walking down the street to your cars. You nearly jumped in surprise when you spotted Bakugou leaning against your car, smoke curling from his mouth.

How long had he been waiting out here?

“Um, I need to head home early, so I’m clocking out!” Your employee squeaked, darting past you both towards her car and whispering a quick ‘good luck’ to you before driving off, leaving you and Bakugou in heavy silence. He broke it first, striding over to you.

“How are you?” For some reason, his question irked you. He had shattered your heart and disappeared for six months, and now he was asking how you were doing?

“Are you serious?” Your tone was sharper than you intended. “You.” You poked your finger into his jacket-covered chest. “You hurt me, and now you just show up? Out of nowhere?”

Bakugou stood like stone for a moment before grabbing your wrist, a look of regret crossing his face—something you never expected to see on him. “I had no way to contact you; we didn’t exactly exchange numbers.” He pulled you closer, holding both of your arms.

“I miss you, and I'm sorry.” Silence followed his words, you stared at him, a storm of emotions swirling in your heart and mind.

“You missed me?”

“Yes.”

No matter how hard you tried, tears still spilled down your cheeks, your throat aching from the effort of trying to keep them away. “Then why did you leave me? Why did you hurt me?” Your voice cracked on the word ‘hurt.’

You watched as Bakugou opened and closed his mouth, clearly struggling to find the right words. You didn’t give him time; you tugged your wrist free as if it burned. Sniffling and rubbing your nose, you glared at him through your tears.

“Is there something wrong with me then?” His expression shifted with discomfort, reaching out to you but quickly dropped his hands at his sides when he saw the hardness in your eyes. “No, of course not. You're perfect.”

“Then why did you hold me like that? Why kiss me and then leave for six months?” Your voice faltered with each painful word, but you didn’t care. You needed answers—something to ease the ache in your heart.

start listening to mis here <3 recommend listening to the 2:12 part at the very ending.

Bakugou looked down at his hands, then back up at you, pain evident in his red eyes. “I…I honestly thought I couldn’t be with you because of my job.” He sighed heavily, running his gloved hands through his hair. “During those months apart, I realized that I’m in love with you. At first, I mistook it for annoyance, but then I recognized it for what it was: longing. After that night, all I felt was regret. I felt stupid for pushing you away.” He stepped closer, taking your hand, and you allowed it.

“Those months without you were terrible. I don’t ever want to be apart from you again.” His confession felt like an angel whispering in your ear, though the ache in your heart remained. You wanted to pull him close, but you just couldn’t—not now.

“Katsuki.” You looked into his eyes, stunned to see tears threatening to spill. “I…” You hesitated, biting your lip. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, summoning a smile that warmed your heart as he returned it. “You’re an idiot.” You laughed through the tears, reaching up to brush the wetness from his cheeks. He chuckled in response, albeit a little unsteadily.

Drawing him near, you wrapped your arms around him in a brief, tight embrace before leaning back just enough to look into his eyes. You could feel his hands tightening around your waist, drawing you in closer. With a soft smile, you pulled him in, rising on your toes to meet his lips; he immediately responded by meeting you halfway. The kiss was slow and tender, making your heart race. Eventually though, you had to pull back, wiping your tears.

“I can’t be with you right now.” It hurt to say those words.

He didn’t argue, only nodded, the hope that had briefly flared in his expression flickered out, leaving only hurt behind. Ignoring the ache in your heart, you moved to your car. Neither of you spoke as you started the engine.

Just as you began to pull away, you paused, tear-filled eyes locking onto his.

“I loved you too, Katsuki Bakugou.”

Without waiting for his reply, you drove off, refusing to look back in the mirror.

The End.

I genuinely wanted to end this off with a happy ending but it didn't feel realistic, to share such a intimate moment for someone then to have them be so cold the next day would genuinely fuck me up.

This isn't oc x character though so how events go after this are up to you guys! that's always the fun part of ending x reader stories off with cliffhangers :D I'd like to personally think that Bakugou didn't give up and eventually proposed after dating for just six months, it might be my delusions talking, I feel like Bakugou is the type of dude to love hard and not let go, once he has you he'll make sure to keep you.

And he's a big family man, many babies happened following after the wedding :] that's my personal thoughts after writing everything down. What I said was going to be the original ending, but like I said, it didn't feel realistic to leave with a happy ending, leaving it up to interpretation is much more fun.

[livelydiver]

OMFD fic recs

Hi all!  It's another fic rec posts! 

A non-exhaustive selection of favorites -- this fandom is so fucking talented it blows me away. Thank you to everyone out there writing/drawing/creating such an incredible wealth of gorgeous material, I want to shout about it all the time and if I have loved your work and failed to tell you, I hope you'll forgive me.

I've broken the following down by theme/category - all gentlebeard-centric, mostly E-rated long fics because that's how it is. 

Hell or High Water

There's one fic in this category and it's Hell or High Water (@mottlemoth, 250K+, WIP, E). I know you're already reading it but if you've somehow just emerged from a year-long coma and this is your first contact with the internet  since your miraculous recovery, then please let me introduce you to Hell or High Water. This fic is a world unto itself - unreal l how many lines from this beast I think about on a regular basis.  

AUs

⬥In Favor with Their Stars by @mxmollusca -- 27K+ (WIP), M

Spectacular sci-fi where Ed is an engineer on a spaceship and STE/DE is the ship's AI. Poignant and tender and laden with moments that will take your breath away.

⬥Done Deal by Skrifores -- 38K+ (WIP), E

Ed is a glassblower and Stede is an unhappily married "straight" man who starts coming to the hot shop to watch him work; their relationship in this one is so organic and perfectly written. Already can't wait for the re-read.

⬥Once Upon a Summer in San Francisco by samwise -- 150K+ (WIP), E

Like HOHW, you're probably already reading this one, but if not then you should be! Every word of hype is deserved; this fic is so joyful and healing and tender, with a perfectly-in-character ensemble crew and the sweetest friends-to-lovers slow burn I've ever read.

⬥different this time by @tedwelton -- 65K, E

Adorably awkward single-dad Stede hires heartwarmingly perfect nanny Ed to help with the kids, and it's as funny and sweet and satisfying as a great rom-com.

⬥i'll be your treasure by offsammich -- 48K, M

Metal dectorists AU! An unusual take on "Ed is the master of a world Stede has always dreamed of exploring," which is fuckin' metal detecting, that's right. Very fun and heartwarming.

⬥turn on the light by @smallestchurch -- 43.8K, E

New-bookstore-owner Stede and the hot guy who runs the bar next door. Digs into some of the thorniness of Stede's marriage/sexuality crisis, which leads to mounting UST and a searingly hot, planets-colliding payoff.

Canon Universe

⬥Haunt You Down by fluorescentgrey -- 13K, E

This fic breaks my heart but I just can't stop coming back to it - Ed goes to a molly house to try to get Stede out of his system. Guess who is also there, trying to process things? Achingly hot and angsty, with some excellent OCs to boot.

⬥Stealing Romance by Skrifores -- 13K, E

Delightfully funny and sweet fake-boyfriends trope and jealous misunderstandings when Stede's ex shows up and Ed helps Stede avoid him.

⬥Cabin Pressure by entanglednow -- 6K, E

Flaming hot "consequences of 'platonic' friends sleeping in the same bed" one-shot.

⬥Wayfaring by @justkeeptrekkin -- 35K, E 

Another deserved fandom classic, Ed and Stede marooned together on an island, a gorgeous slow unfolding of the beautiful life they build together.

⬥If You Were Mine to Keep by Pamplemousse (@mysterybees) -- 75K+ (WIP), E

Incredibly sweet, romantic forced marriage story where Ed is made to marry an aristocrat and Stede agrees to be the one to marry him. Instant chemistry and a powerful friendship that slowly blossoms into more. Pure loveliness.

Fun Sex

My all-time favorite genre: zany sexual chemistry and adventures in sex positivity. "Erotic friendship," maybe? Whatever you call it, it's the best. Started compiling recs for this section and realized I had multiple fics for every author, so I'm going to recommend authors instead!

❖afterism (@onlylostphysics) -- creator of the exquisite, paradigm-shifting "kissing is what lovers do" series, an S1 canon-parallel in which Ed and Stede become friends with benefits from day one. Pure perfection, every installment is hot and beautiful as a standalone or in series but I particularly love elegant and restrained (Ed orchestrates his own ravishment under the guise of teaching Stede how to handle a hostage), and all dressed up (fingering and playful orgasm denial and Ed being head over heels in love, just mind-meltingly hot and romantic).

❖alsaurus (@ofmd-alsaurus) -- another who can do no wrong in my book. Every fic is so sweet and sexy and uniquely hilarious; I'm particularly partial to Good Habits (Stede has an unusual way of getting off, Ed likes to watch) and There's No Accounting for Taste (Ed tries to set a sexy trap and things go off the rails). 

❖Jimsnose (alivamae) -- snappy and hot and always deliciously unpredictable, I love everything they've written but especially The Theater of Fear (Stede helps Ed cope with the guilt of nearly killing him through the healing magic of roleplay)(seriously though this fic is so delightful I just got pulled into another re-read) and Golden Teachers (Ed introduces Stede to magic mushrooms)(I am a sucker for low-stakes recreational drug use in fics and this one is exquisite, now with searingly-hot sequel Penis Envy).

❖heartroots (@bonesofyourheart) -- another master of the hot/funny/sweet/endearing/hot again genre blending, especially Aphrodisiac (Stede struggles with finishing too quickly and tries a magic potion to help him last longer) and If You're Too Shy, Then Let Me (Stede gets an "accidental" front-row seat to Ed's alone time).

House Specials

Finally, a few of my own fics I'm especially proud of - check them out if you like!

⬥Touching Your Goodness -- E, 14K

Ed and Stede are back together but not yet Back Together when two strangers come into the mix and make them both jealous - mutual pining and comedic misunderstandings with bonus POTC (Sparrow/Norrington) crossover.

⬥Skeleton Season -- 8K, E

Smut and fluff after Stede gets cursed by some famously haunted treasure. Just in time for the Halloween season!

⬥The Healing Kind -- 22K, E

Post-S1 reunion where Ed is depressed and self-destructive, and Izzy teams up with Lucius and Mary to get him back together with Stede: angst to hurt/comfort to fluff to smut.

⬥Such as They May Be -- 6K, E

A lighthearted "Stede catches up with the Revenge" fix-it where Ed can't help loving Stede's newfound confidence.

Happy reading!

🏴‍☠️❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤