#fic: sugarpie honeybun

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blind Offer 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, additional characters to come

Note: I've been feeling a bit off lately so thank you all for distracting me. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won’t reveal which one right away because it’ll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

After closing, you’re due for an opening shift. The abrupt shift in your schedule leaves you little off-time but right on the other side, you have a much needed day off. You’re relieved not to be left to think too much in the unfamiliar house and hopeful that by the time your time off comes, your apartment will be ready for your return.

That morning, you’re running on coffee and the promise of the cinnamon bun you bought on your way in. You work through the price changes in the digital imaging section. The cameras are the biggest pain as you have to unlock the cases to replace the old tags.

You get to the Sony section and end up on your knees, fighting the glass door as it rolls off the track. The podcast buzzing in your ear fades as your frustration gets the best of you. You lean back, your shoulder brushing against an unexpected presence behind you.

You wince and pop your earbud out, craning to look over your shoulder at the man browsing cameras past you. His eyes meet yours with a twinkle as he points to the case, “you know much about these?”

You shake your head, “sorry.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smirks, the expression made devious by the trim of dark blond across his lip. He squats down beside you, “nah? I was looking for a starter camera but I need something with strong range.”

You nod and force a smile, “um, well, these are pretty basic, I think. They don’t have any extra lenses,” you look around, searching for one of the DI salesmen, “I could find someone–”

“I’m asking for your help, honeybun,” he coos, “what’s the zoom on these things?”

You feel heat speck on your forehead and cheeks. You’re not the best with customers. It’s easy enough if they know what they’re looking for but you’re useless with telling them what they need. You turn back and grab one of the small boxes. You turn it over and read the specs.

“Uh… 30x zoom…” you say, “I guess that’s pretty good.”

“Hmm,” he clicks his tongue, “I’m looking for something stronger. Stronger’s always better, isn’t it, sugarpie?”

His strange pet names put you off. Some old ladies will call you hon and some old men will call you young lady, but he’s a lot younger and not as endearing. You put the camera back and look along the row.

“Yeah, I think maybe you need to look at the bigger cameras,” you point over the case, “they’re along that wall–”

“You like it bigger?” He intones with a snicker, “you a size queen?”

You recoil, taken aback by his suggestion. Ew. You shake your head and turn back to the case, “sorry, sir, I don’t know anything about cameras. I’ll see if I can get a salesman over here.” You grab the wire of your headset and hit the button, “can I get someone over to DI?”

You let go of the button as the earpiece crackles. The man doesn’t move, “you know, I don’t mind a little extra. Especially in the trunk.”

You ignore him as you peel away the fresh stickers and press them to the front of the shelves. The heat of his lingering figure has you unable to get your fingernail under the corner of a label. You want to run and hide in the warehouse. You’re just too nervous to tell him to go away, Gwen would write you up.

“Hey,” Jamie appears from the other end of the aisle, “looking for a camera, sir?”

The man behind you doesn’t stand right away. When he does, he reaches close to you, gripping the top of the case to push himself up to his feet. You turn and mouth a thank you to Jamie as he gives a long look at the man behind you.

“Sure am,” the customer brushes by you closely. You watch the back of his head, shaved close around the sides, the top pieces longer and slicked back neatly. He walks with a certain lean to his step, his shoulders squared, his gait confident but casual. He gives you the ick.

You focus on your sheet of price changes. He’s not your problem anymore. You just hope you can through that section before he finds what he’s looking for. You somehow suspect he’s in no hurry to leave.

🖤

You get back to the townhouse just after five. It’s later than you usually get in but you’re just happy to be done. You haven’t been able to shake that feeling that’s followed you all day. Ever since that man approached you in the store, you’ve felt as if you’re being watched.

You walk the block and a half from the nearest stop and turn onto the quiet street of newly built townhouses. Despite the sighting of a neighbour, it still feels derelict. You check the number beside the door as you head up the walk to the doorstep. As you do, you hear a whistle.

You stop and turn back as you hear footsteps approaching. It’s only then you notice the white van parked along the far curb. A man runs over in a blue uniform with a box under his thick arm. Burly and broad, you almost cower as he waves and approaches.

“You live here?” he asks as his eyes flick up to the iron numbers mounted besides the door, “number four?”

“Um, I’m… crashing here, yeah,” you swallow, “it’s actually not my place–”

“I got a package,” he shifts the parcel and reads the label. 

You can just see his features beneath the shadow of his cap brim, long lashes, square jaw, a touch of stubble and a thick mustache across his lip. You hate that those are making a comeback. You shiver as it reminds you of the man in the store, but this man has darker hair, a curl poking out from his hate.

“For Steve Rogers?”

“Yeah, erm, that’s my landlord. This is his place,” you point over your shoulder with the thumb.

“Right, well, it doesn’t need a signature, so if you could pass it off to him.”

“I don’t know–”

“I don’t really feel like driving back out here tomorrow. This isn’t my route,” he says tersely.

You snap your mouth shut. Wow, okay. You shrug and reach out to take the box.

“Sure, I can get it to him. Sorry.”

“Thanks,” he hands it over and looks back and forth down the street, “quiet neighbourhood, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess… just finished development so–”

“Fancy places. Expensive,” he continues on, “your landlord must really like you.”

You frown and hug the package, “uh, he’s nice. Anyway, I’m sure you got other deliveries to make.”

He scoffs as you turn away. You’re succinctly aware of him as you move your body to block the code as you punch it in. 

“Too good for the delivery boy,” he mutters darkly, “have a good day, miss fancy pants.”

“Have a good day,” you squeak and push your way into the townhouse, spinning to shut the door.

You twist the latch as you lean on the door. You slowly lean over and peek past the curtain. The delivery man smirks at the barrier between you before turning and strolling back the way he came. You shudder and turn to put the box down. You really thought for a moment he might try to follow you inside.

You shake out your nerves. It’s just been a really weird day. Well, few days.

You pull out your phone and text Steve to let him know he got a package. You put your cell on the counter as you enter the kitchen. You planned on ordering food to celebrate your coming day off but it’s too much trouble dealing with another stranger.

You go through the fridge and cupboards and settle on the bag of hand rolled tortellini with the jar of alfredo. You’re no expert chef but you can follow instructions. It’s a quick enough dinner. You eat it at the table against the wall, a video playing on your phone. 

A notification pops up at the top of the screen, Steve saying thanks. You don’t bother replying but another flips up in quick succession. ‘How is everything?’

You finish your pasta before you reply. You rinse your dishes and leave them in the rack. You take the phone upstairs, typing as you climb.

‘Doing fine. Everything’s well. Thanks for checking in.’

Easy and to the point. You don’t want to have some stunted text chat with your landlord, you don’t even want to talk to your friends, you’ve been dying all week to try the bathtub.

You turn on the faucet and the water spills out, steam quickly rising as you adjust the temperature. You go to the counter and search your pouch for your body scrub. You pause as you find it empty. Weird.

You look around. Your toothbrush is in the cup and your toothpaste and mouthwash on the small shelf that holds it. Where is everything else? You check the drawer, your face creams and cleanser are all there. Even your deodorant and body lotion. 

You peek at the tub and see your jar of scrub already sitting on the sharp edge brim. You don’t remember putting all that away. Why would you? You’re not going to be here forever. You don’t know, you were so tired that morning, you can’t even remember brewing your coffee.

You blow out the tension. Stop worrying. It’s fine. It’s little things that you’re overthinking. As usual. 

You undress and leave your clothes on the counter. You approach the tub and lower yourself down with a sigh. Oh yeah, this is living. The tub is nice and big, you don’t feel crammed in like your own place. You better enjoy it while it lasts.

🖤

The bedroom becomes a haven in the large house. You go downstairs in search of snacks, planning to veg out a bit before you inevitably fall asleep watching Youtube commentary videos. You find some trail mix with M&Ms mixed in it but are disappointed to discover a dearth of carbonated beverages in the fridge. You opt for the tropical twist juice in the sleek glass bottle.

You retreat with your meagre haul and create a nest in the bed. You grab your phone and flip past the several notifications waiting on the home screen. You scroll through Youtube until you land on something suitably dramatic. You pull down the taskbar and flick away several notifs.

Steve’s message is the last. It kinda creeps you out but the time stamp assures you it’s merely a coincidence. ‘I bought some snacks. Hope you found them. Wasn’t sure what you liked.’

You resist clicking on the bubble and swipe it away with the rest. You don’t want to leave him on read and you don’t think he’d appreciate your response. Granola and coconut water aren’t much of a snack.

You shimmy down under the covers and prop up your phone on the bedside table. You lean into the pillow and lazily munch, Your mind wanders away from the petty online drama. Work, your apartment, several strange encounters… hopefully life calms down soon. You mind your business, you don’t need the trouble. You prefer to be a witness, not an active participant.

You drain the last of the juice as the mix of almonds, peanuts, and cranberries leaves your mouth dry. You get up to brush your teeth as you listen through the open door to the edited clips from TikTok. As you come back to bed, you feel the day catch up to you.

You yawn and shut off the light. Ugh, you’re so suddenly tired. It’s not unusual to be wiped after clopening but damn, you’ve never felt this heavy. You pull the blanket up to your chin and your phone screen blurs in your eyes. You let the low drone ease you down to sleep.

It’s as if no time passes at all. No dreams, no awareness, just a thick void that makes your head hurt. You wake with a start.

Your phone gleams from beside you but Youtube is no longer open. The light is on, blaring in your vision as you sit up. Jeez, you must be totally zonked. You probably got up to go pee and don’t even remember.

You reach for your phone and check the time. It’s just after midnight. An hour or two since you passed out. The blanket falls away from your shoulders and you look down at the cold wash across your chest. The straps of your tank top droop down your arms as the fabric is wrinkled below your tits as they hang out. 

You fix your top, it’s not unusual. You’ve woken up more times than you count with your shirt all twisted. It’s why you never had roommates. You shove the blanket further down, your shorts are askew as well, caught in the crease of thigh and pelvis. You fish around to tug the loose opening free and find it damp. Ugh, you’re sweating from your little cocoon of body warmth.

You push yourself towards the edge and pause. You feel oddly sensitive, almost raw. You rise and stretch, reaching down to check yourself. You’re wet. Like really wet. You must’ve had some wild dreams but you can’t remember any of them. 

You take your cell to the bathroom with you and relieve yourself. You pull up your cycle tracking app. Ah, first day of ovulation. Horny time.

You come back to the bedroom and burrow back under the blankets. As you wiggle down, you feel something roll against you. You put your phone beside your pillow and snake your hand around to grab the tiny cylinder. You raise the small bullet vibrator and frown. Wasn’t that in your beauty bag?

You place it on the night table and take your phone. Well, you seem to be pretty absent-minded lately. First your toiletries, now this. You’ll have to do a sweep of the house tomorrow and make sure you have everything together. You won’t be there much longer.

Still, you’re unsettled by the momentary lapse in consciousness, but your lingering grogginess keeps you from panicking. You’ll just put on another video. It should distract you enough to calm you down.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve roger #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #blind offers #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #multifandom

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Nice ask day!

Tell me about the fic you're reading right now.

Or, if you're not reading any fic at the moment, what's been your favorite recent read?

Hi Ren!! Thank you!! 🍑

I just wrapped up writing my longest fic yet, so I have had my head buried in that for a few months. It’s finally fully finished so I’m getting back into some of the fic I missed plus some stuff that’s coming out now. Here are a couple that I am reading right now or recently read and then a couple I’m looking forward to start reading!!

I Was Thinking About Your Mouth by @carlos-in-glasses

Thirst Trap Thursday by @chicgeekgirl89

Experimental by @ladytessa74

somebunny loves you by @nancygillianmvp

fundamental by @vineofroses

Looking forward to reading:

so good right now by @fallout-mars

Sugarpie, Honeybun by @bonheur-cafe

now i wake up by your side by @theghostofashton

soulmates aren't just lovers by @sznofthesticks

Come Home To Me by @literateowl

The Shady Lane Five by @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad

#nice ask week

[alarriefantasy]

                 Author Spotlight :  ihavetoomuchfreetime

and oh, all of your saturdays could end up in... (also by maybetomorrow)

Words: 70k

a fic in which louis' in a long-term relationship with an abusive asshole, niall, zayn and liam are so far but not really, and harry is that all too friendly guy who works in sainsbury's.

the frost covers all

Words: 19k

“What about ‘pookie’? ‘Sweetipie’? ‘Sugarpie honeybun’?” Harry suggests, with a grin. “They’re couple-y, right?.” “You might as well call me ‘clogged arteries’ or ‘diabetes’,” Louis says, deadpan.

au; harry and louis are pretend boyfriends with pretend feelings, but then it's not pretend anymore. feelings ensue.

or a friends-to-lovers/fake relationship when harry needs a boyfriend for a family thing, and louis obliges.

talk to me, darling

Words: 1k

au; louis is bored and tired of revising, and harry offers relief. in ways. or similarly, louis is bored and harry tries to sext, but he's more than a bit shit at it. 

♡ credit to the owner of the manip

♡ past author recs here

#ihavetoomuchfreetime #larry fics #larry stylinson #larry fic rec #larry fic recs #lourry fics #author spotlight

[thelarryficrecplace]

Do you have any fics that would be like a pick me up, just found the guy that I recently dated had pretty much kept me a secret and could really use a nice distraction ):

I’m so sorry lovely - hope you are doing ok:

we’ve got unfinished business by suspendrs:

Summary: Or, there’s a ghost in Harry and Louis’s apartment that seemingly just wants them to date.

Word count: 6,910

Fake Tears and Garlic Bread by loueas:

Summary: Or, Louis is fed up of having to pay for his food and decides to pretend he has been stood up by his “date” in order to blag himself a free meal, Harry is the clueless romantic dragged into the equation, Zayn and Liam think Louis is an idiot, and Niall just really loves garlic bread.

Word count: 7,598

breaking the rules (like we’re changing the game) by ariadne_odair:

Summary: Louis and Harry try secretly dating. Try being the operative word.

Word count: 8,277

Right Side of the Wrong Bed by eyesofshinigami:

Summary: Or, the one where Louis wakes up on the wrong couch only to meet his future husband (even if Harry doesn’t know it yet).

Word count: 10,902

cook for me (if you can handle me) by yoursongonmyheart:

Summary: louis tomlinson, much to his own despair, gets thrown into a four week cooking class taught by culinary student harry styles. pair that with his classmates zayn and niall who may or may not know his roommate liam, and you’ve got a recipe for fun.

aka, a wildly self-indulgent crack fic.

Word count: 13,054

the frost covers all by ihavetoomuchfreetime:

Summary: “What about ‘pookie’? ‘Sweetipie’? ‘Sugarpie honeybun’?” Harry suggests, with a grin. “They’re couple-y, right?.”

“You might as well call me ‘clogged arteries’ or ‘diabetes’,” Louis says, deadpan.

au; harry and louis are pretend boyfriends with pretend feelings, but then it’s not pretend anymore. feelings ensue.

or a friends-to-lovers/fake relationship when harry needs a boyfriend for a family thing, and louis obliges.

Word count: 19,111

Ain’t That A Kick In The Head! by lesbianharrie, wreckingtomlinson:

Summary: “Well.” Niall unlocks his phone. “It wasn’t getting the traction I wanted on Snapchat. So…I tweeted it.”

What.

“You tweeted it,” Harry states, nearing a state of brain dead. “To your ten thousand followers.”

Niall nods, handing Harry the phone. “You’re a meme, Harry.”

“I’m a what?”

“A meme. It’s like an internet—”

“I know what a fucking meme is, Niall! Why did you make me into one?”

Niall has the fucking balls to cackle at that while Harry looks at the mess his former friend created. Videos of him screaming at Tomlinson about Tide Pods and his ass are being quoted and combined with memes to a create a level of memeception Harry has never seen before. That isn’t even including the thousands of tweets of him falling up the stairs remixed with random Top 40 songs.

In which Harry’s a disaster gay who doesn’t know shit about soccer, Liam drinks too many blue raspberry Coolattas, Niall knows everyone, Zayn looks dead, and Louis is Not Happy about sharing his breakout moment with “Drunk Hawaiian Guy.”

Word count: 22,432

I Can Be Your Hero Baby (Just Let Me Get My Sword) by CalamityK:

Summary: “Musketeer?!” the man snorts, ignoring his hand, “Yeah right, you’re a Musketeer and I have a fat bottom!”

Harry observes the man’s body, letting his hand drop, and decides that he has a very nice bottom indeed, “Your backside is not in the least lacking, this is true.”Or that AU where Louis is a private investigator with London’s biggest crime boss out for his head, and Harry is the Musketeer he accidentally calls through time to save him.

Word count: 24,531

Hands Clasped Tight by afirethatcannotdie:

Summary: Or the one where Harry and Louis are high school teachers and their students have been playing matchmaker for over a year. Little do they know, Harry and Louis are already married.

Word count: 44,302

Fake It Till You Make It by thealmightyavocado:

Summary: In a twisted turn of events, Louis finds himself posing as the brother of his fiancé, Harry, for an annual company retreat.

Did he sign up for this? No.Is he doing it anyway? Yes.

Can they actually pull this off? Probably not.

Word count: 136,773

#i've personally been on a man-ban for about 3 weeks now #so happy and drama free #but hey hope you are ok #larry #larry fic #larry au #larry fic rec #fic #fic rec #Larry Stylinson #crack fic #crack fics #funny fics #fics to cheer you up

[thelarryficrecplace]

can you recommend me any funny fics, like ones that involve alot of commedy

Hello love! I’ve got a rec for humorous fics already, but here’s some more for you: 

Like Master, Like Pet by orphan_account:

Summary: In which Louis’s cat apparently wants to date Harry’s frog, intense studying of eyebrows is a thing, pillows can turn into flamingos, and a lot of really lame-ass jokes are made.

The Hell in Hello by CalamityK:

Summary: “You said that out loud you know.” Satan says. “And you should probably call me Louis.”

Or the one where Harry answers a craigslist ad and ends up in Hell.

cook for me (if you can handle me) by yoursongonmyheart:

Summary: louis tomlinson, much to his own despair, gets thrown into a four week cooking class taught by culinary student harry styles. pair that with his classmates zayn and niall who may or may not know his roommate liam, and you’ve got a recipe for fun.

aka, a wildly self-indulgent crack fic.

I Can Be Your Hero Baby (Just Let Me Get My Sword) by CalamityK:

Summary: “Musketeer?!” the man snorts, ignoring his hand, “Yeah right, you’re a Musketeer and I have a fat bottom!”

Harry observes the man’s body, letting his hand drop, and decides that he has a very nice bottom indeed, “Your backside is not in the least lacking, this is true.”Or that AU where Louis is a private investigator with London’s biggest crime boss out for his head, and Harry is the Musketeer he accidentally calls through time to save him.

Fate’s A Bitch Really (Yes) by CalamityK:

Summary: Louis is twenty-three now, and painfully aware that “Yes.” Is quite a common response when first meeting someone. or that soulmate au where everyone has the first words their soulmate is supposed to say to them tattooed on their body

fall into my arms instead by eversincewefellapart:

Summary: AU. Louis’ not a princess but he is the love of Harry’s life, and Harry’s not a prince but he is a frog.

come on jump out at me by yoursongonmyheart:

Summary: “you know, i offered for you to fake out me, but, i don’t know anything about you other than you being my biggest celebrity crush probably since posh spice.”

louis almost chokes on his chicken, “jesus christ,” he sputters.

harry takes a swig of his beer with a smirk. “i was very disappointed when you didn’t say i was your celebrity crush after you came out.”

louis almost cries. “you know i did plan on it. then i ran into you narrating taking a piss and talking about my ass and i thought ‘wow this kid does talk some shit’ and decided against it.”

harry barks out a laugh, his ears tinged red. he takes a bite of his pizza. “i suppose i do have no filter while high.”

louis rolls his eyes, “bit of an understatement, mate.”

harry giggles, “whatever pal,” louis screams internally.

Or, the one where actor louis tomlinson and one direction superstar harry styles try to fake a sex tape to help harry get out of the closet and they both get more than they bargained for.

kiss me on the mouth (and set me free) by tempolarriefics:

Summary: Harry, being his endlessly patient self, asks with a wry smile, “And who am I going to spontaneously marry for financial aid?”

He clearly intends for it to be a rhetorical question, for it to shoot down Louis’ ridiculous marriage idea. But Louis answers easily, “Me. You’ll marry me.“

aka the not-so fake marriage AU in which Harry and Louis get married to keep Harry from dropping out of uni (and if they discover that they’re in love along the way, well, that’s neither here nor there).

the frost covers all by ihavetoomuchfreetime:

Summary: “What about ‘pookie’? ‘Sweetipie’? ‘Sugarpie honeybun’?” Harry suggests, with a grin. “They’re couple-y, right?.”

“You might as well call me ‘clogged arteries’ or ‘diabetes’,” Louis says, deadpan. 

au; harry and louis are pretend boyfriends with pretend feelings, but then it’s not pretend anymore. feelings ensue.

or a friends-to-lovers/fake relationship when harry needs a boyfriend for a family thing, and louis obliges.

Ache To Know The Song He Sung by onlyhuman:

Summary: Ogling hot men is a part of his job that Louis thoroughly enjoys. That is, if the ogling hadn’t been reduced to a bare minimum the second DJ Harry Styles set foot into Funky Payno and ruined every other man for Louis, ever.

Or: Louis is a bartender and Harry is a DJ in a club in Barcelona. All they really need to do is get their shit together. Of course, that’s not what happens.

#asks #anon #larry #larry stylinson #larry au #larry fics #larry fic rec #fics #fic rec #crack #crack fics #humour #humorous fics #humours larry fics #fics to cheer you up #funny #funny fics #funny larry fics