#knack masterpost | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nellasbookplanet · 3 months ago

Text

Book recs: angels

Want some cool fictional angels? Good news! Whether you prefer traditional winged angels, scary eldritch angels, possibly-human-angels, incredibly creative in-name-only-angels, angels separated from or exploring concepts of faith and religion, romance, horror, fantasy, or sci-fi; this list is sure to offer something to chew on!

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Historical fantasy angels

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb*

The angel Uriel and the demon Little Ash have been friends for centuries, living and studying together in a small jewish community in Europe. But times are changing, and many of the community have left for a new life across the sea. When one of these emigrants go missing, Uriel and Little Ash decide to leave their peaceful life and go find and, if needed, save her.

A Master of Djinn by P. Djèli Clark

Set in an alternate 1910’s steampunk Cairo, where djinn and other creatures (among other things, creepy steampunk angels) live alongside humans. We get to follow an investigator as she races to catch a criminal using a powerful object to control djinn and stir unrest. Fantastically creative and fresh, and also features a buddy cop dynamic between two female leads as well as a sapphic romance.

The Angel of the Crows by Katherine Addison*

Sherlock Holmes retelling. After having been injured fighting a war against fallen angels, Doyle returns to London to survive on only a veteran's pension. To afford a place to live in the city, Doyle finds a housemate in Crow, and eccentric angel with a great curiosity for humans and a knack for solving crime. And London needs its protector - supernatural beings walk the streets, and a someone going by the name Jack the Ripper terrifies the citizens at night.

Modern day fantasy angels

Bitter by Akwaeke Emezi

Novella, young adult. Bitter is an art student in Lucille, a city on the brink. Injustice plagues the citizens and protests shake the streets, and Bitter doesn't know where her place his - whether to fight or stay safe. When her art calls upon a creature of bloody justice, she must ask herself just how far she’s prepared to go and what price she’s ready to pay for justice.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor

Young adult portal fantasy. Young Karou is a student in Prague, but she’s also a mystery. She fills sketchbooks with drawings of monsters, trades in wishes, speaks languages that aren't all human, and has hair that grows out blue. When strange signs start appearing around the world - handprints scorched into doorways by winged strangers - will Karou finally find out who she really is?

Angelfall by Susan Ee*

Young adult post apocalypse. Six months ago, the angels descended on the Earth - and brought the apocalypse with them. Between ruling street gangs and vicious angels, Penryn is just trying to keep her family alive. When angels fly away with her little sister, Penryn does the unthinkable: strikes a deal with an injured and outcast angel to rescue her.

A Madness of Angels by Kate Griffin*

Urban fantasy. Two years ago, sorcerer Matthew Swift was killed. Today, he woke back up. And he isn't alone in his body, but rather in the company of the blue electric angels, who lived in the telephone lines and are now experiencing the world for the first time through him. Now, he seeks vengeance not only against the one who killed him, but also against the one who brought him back.

The Fall that Saved Us by Tamara Jerée*

Cassiel is of angelic heritage, raised to fight and kill demons alongside her family. But Cassiel has left the hunt and her family behind, wanting a normal life. For three years she's built a life for herself, cut off from her family, but now a demon has found her, sent to collect her soul. Except, the demon isn't any more interested in following the orders of her family than Cassiel is. Can they work together to free themselves from the expectations placed on them? Sapphic romance.

Out of the Blue by Sophie Cameron*

Young adult, sapphic main character. When angels started falling from the sky, the world went mad. So far not a single angel has survived the fall, but that doesn't stop teenage Jaya's father from growing an obsession with catching one, going as far as uprooting the entire family to Edinburgh in hopes of finding one. Jaya, busy mourning the recent loss of her mother, finds his obsession pointless - until an angel crashes right at her feet. What’s more, it's alive...

Full on fantasy angels

Tread of Angels by Rebecca Roanhorse

Novella. During Heaven's War, the rebel Abaddon died and fell. Now, long after, what remains of his body is a valuable element called divinity, which is mined by Fallen, descendants of those who fell and the only ones capable of perceiving divinity. Celeste, a Fallen raised among the privileged Elect, is deeply protective of her little sister Mariel. When Mariel is accused of having murdered an Elect, it’s up to Celeste to find out what really happened and save her sister.

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman

Middle grade. In Lyra's world, every person has a daemon: an animal companion who follows them throughout life. When children begins being stolen off the street, among them Lyra's friend, she must embark on a great journey to save him, taking her to the furthest north - and beyond. A note: the angels do not appear until the second book, however this trilogy is very much worth a read from the start.

Gunmetal Gods by Zamil Akhtar

Dark fantasy inspired by the crusades. Seeking revenge, Micah the Metal leads an army of men baptized i angel's blood against the kingdom that stole his daughter. It’s up to Kevah, legendary fighter, to stop him and save his people. But ever since losing his wife a decade ago, Kevah has lost his fighting spirit. To defeat Micah, he must find it within himself a will to live again. While featuring (scary eldritch) angels, they serve more as a driving background/world-building force than as actual characters.

Horror angels

The Unnoticeables by Robert Brockway

Angels watch over humans, but not to protect us but to solve us, seeking to make the universe more efficient and clean away the undesirable. Carey, a 70s punk, doesn't like the idea of being solved. Watching fellow punks disappear off the streets, he becomes embroiled in a dangerous conspiracy. Decades later, stunt woman Kaitlyn has her own encounter with the angels and their creations - as well an older punk who might have the answers she needs.

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

Young adult post apocalypse. The world has ended, and sixteen-year-old trans boy Benji is on the run from the cult that caused armageddon. Infected with the bioweapon they released to bring about the end, Benji is slowly transforming into something not quite human and desperate to find someplace safe. When coming across a group of surviving teens, Benji finds something new to fight for. No traditional angels, but it does play with the concept.

Angel Radio by A.M. Blaushild

Young adult post apocalypse. A week after strange and terrifying angels appeared, humanity is dead. Sole survivor of her town, teenage Erika is left wandering on her own. That is, until she catches an odd broadcast on the radio which lures her into the newly emptied world. There she encounters dangerous creatures, but also fellow survivor Midori, who has a cryptic connection to the angels.

Sci-fi angels

Archangel Protocol (LINK Angel series) by Lyda Morehouse

Cyberpunk. In a future where religion has become the law of the land and people spend as much time in cyberspace as in reality, ex-cop Deirdre has lost everything after having been accused of a crime she didn't commit. When approached by a man calling himself Michael and asked to solve the mystery behind the so called link angels - supposed angels who show themselves in cyberspace - Deirdre is given a chance at redemption and answers.

Archangel by Sharon Shinn

For twenty years, archangel Raphael has ruled over the lands, leading to corruption among both angels and mortals. Now the time has come for the angel Gabriel to become archangel, but first he must find his Angelica, a mortal woman chosen by Jehovah to be by his side. But his chosen partner, Rachel, has lived under oppression and fear, and she has her own ideas of what she wants - ideas that don't include Gabriel.

Terminal World by Alastair Reynolds

On a dying earth, society is separated by zones in which the laws of reality shift, allowing for different levels of technology and life. At the top of Spearpoint, the only surviving city, lies the Celestial zone, in which only angels can survive. Quillon, former angel who's had his wings removed and body changed so he can survive and infiltrate the lower zones, has been in hiding for years when he receives a warning that his former people are hunting him. Forced on the run, Quillon must leave Spearpoint for the dangerous wastes beyond, where he will discover ancient secrets of his world.

Space angels

Dust by Elizabeth Bear

In a dying spaceship, orbiting an equally dying sun, noblewoman Perceval waits for her own gruesome death. Having been captured by an opposing house, her wings severed and life forfeit, Perceval’s execution is imminent - until a young servant charged with her care proves to be Perceval’s long lost sister. To stop a war between houses likely to doom them all, the two flee together across a crumbling, dangerous spaceship. At its core waits Jacob Dust, god and angel, all that remains of what the ship once was. And he wants Perceval. Sapphic and asexual characters, however be prepared for kinda fucked up relationships.

The Outside by Ada Hoffman*

AKA the book the put me in an existential crisis. Souls are real, and they are used to feed AI gods in this lovecraftian inspired sci-fi where reality is warped and artificial gods stand against real, unfathomable ones. Autistic scientist Yasira is accused of heresy and, to save her eternal soul, is recruited by cybernetic ‘angels’ to help hunt down her own former mentor, who is threatening to tear reality itself apart. Sapphic main character.

The Genesis of Misery by Neon Yang

Space opera inspired by Joan of Arc. Misery Nomaki possesses rare stone-working abilities usually found among only saints and the voidmad. Not believing herself the be former and desperately not wanting to become the latter, Misery is trying to keep a low profile. Her attempt fails when the voice of an angel - or a very convincing delusion - leads her to become the centerpiece of a dangerous battle between two warring factions hoping to use her. Very unique and cool conceptually, but a little all over the place in how it handles its plot.

Bonus AKA I haven’t read these yet but they seem really cool

Dusk in Kalevia by Emily Compton

Toivo Valonen is a secret agent in more ways than one. An angel masquerading as human, he's acted as a source of hope for humanity in wartime throughout history. In 1960, he embarks on an undercover mission to Kalevia, allied with a rebellion against the government. In his way is fellow angel and rival agent Demyan Chernyshev, who’s working for the KGB.

The House of Shattered Wings by Aliette de Bodard

Having just barely survived the Great Houses War, much of Paris lies in ruins. Morningstar, founder of the House Silverspires, has gone missing, and something is stalking the people within the House's walls. Three people, a Fallen, an alchemist, and a man wielding spells from the far east, may be prove to be Silverspire's salvation.

The Worst Perfect Moment by Shivaun Plozza

Young adult. Sixteen-year-old Tegan is dead and i heaven. There, she's supposed to be reliving her happiest memory. Except the moment Tegan has been placed in isn't very happy at all. Guided by an angel, Tegan is brought through her past to understand what most matters to her. If she fails to see the happiness in her assigned memory, the consequences would be dire for both her and the angel.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: The Library of the Unwritten by A.J. Hackwith, City of Bones by Cassandra Clare, Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick, Sandman Slim by Richard Kadrey

115 notes · View notes

sarahowritesostucky · 10 months ago

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3620

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

6. Somethin' with Bananas

Steve

Steve wakes up to Bucky spooning him, pressing his morning wood against his ass. He hums with his eyes still closed, enjoying the feeling. “Mmm, g’morning.”

Hands slide onto his hips. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”

Steve smiles. “Sunshine” is one of Bucky’s favorite pet names for him. Steve is rather fond of it too, after so many years together. His husband has a knack for making him feel special like that. “What’re you doin', Buck?” he warns softly, still smiling because he likes the feeling of being explored, even if they can't take this far right now because of—

“She left for work a while ago,” Bucky murmurs, the answer to a question that Steve hasn’t asked. Alone time doesn’t happen as much as it used to, these days. "Left a bunch of baking stuff out on the counter. There's a note threatening us with mortal peril if we eat any of her bananas."

"Hmm." Steve yawns deeply and wiggles his butt back against his husband's noticeable hardon. "Whas'she makin'?"

"Dunno. Somethin' with bananas." Bucky’s hand slides to the juncture of Steve’s legs. He palms the half hard line of his cock from over his briefs, massaging the bulge as it grows. Steve moans a little and tips his head back to Bucky’s shoulder, a wordless request for kisses. Bucky starts lavishing his neck with attention while his hand continues its slow work.

Steve loves moments like this. Early morning, the sun barely out and the world quiet, the bedroom air still and thick from sleep; easy, instinctual fucking; simple and not complicated, just the two of them loving on each other. He inhales a little sharper when Bucky finally slides his hand under the waistband of his underwear. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“Mmhm.” Bucky kisses his neck. “This what you wanted, Honey?” His hand is wrapped flush around Steve now, skin on skin. He strokes once up and down and gives a squeeze, starts up a slow, tight rhythm.

“Oh.” Steve bites his lip, eyes closed as he just feels what Bucky’s doing to him. “Mm. Mmhm. S’real good.” He shivers when Bucky’s thumb swipes at his cockhead, spreading the wetness around and pressing firm against his slit. “Fuck …”

“Always were a leaker,” Bucky says lowly. “You get so wet, Honey.”

“Buck,” Steve whines. He loves Bucky’s talk in bed but he’s never been able to handle it. It turns him into a pitiful mess, every time.

Bucky

Bucky just chuckles, knowing the effect he has on him. He’s Dominant. Winding Steve around his little finger comes naturally to him, and Steve can’t say he doesn’t like it. “You were making pretty sounds in your sleep,” Bucky says, murmuring the words in between kisses on Steve’s neck. “Moaning and moving your hips a little.” He demonstrates, pushing his own hips up against Steve’s ass. Steve makes an embarrassed, whimpery sort of noise that goes straight to Bucky’s cock, and he shushes him. “Shh, no. It was hot, Stevie. You were feeling real good in your sleep, huh?”

“Y-yeah.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Bucky presses his thigh forward, between Steve’s legs, crowding him that much closer. “Hm?”

“Her,” Steve says breathily. “I … h-her.”

“Mary?” Bucky grins against the skin of his neck. “Having dirty dreams about our girl, huh?”

Steve moans—whether at Bucky calling her ‘their girl’, or at the way his other hand is now reaching down to cup Steve’s sac, isn’t clear. Bucky gives a gentle squeeze and tug, then rolls the weight of his testicles in his palm. Steve, who’s always been keen on having his balls played with, moans louder and nods against the pillow. “Didn’t mean to,” he says, as if he needs to defend his character.

Bucky grins like a shark and nips his earlobe. “Course not. You just couldn’t help it, could you? She’s always there, moaning around bites of cream filled pastries, showing off her ass in those leggings—”

Steve groans.

“—Giving us attitude every day like she wants a spanking, but dropping so sweet by the end’a the night.” He can see pink spreading around to the back of Steve’s neck and shoulders now. His Stevie colors so easily. Bucky licks delicately along the shell of his ear and whispers, “Tell me. Tell me what you did to her in the dream.” Steve moans and doesn’t answer for a long while, maybe too distracted by Bucky’s hand that’s still stroking him slowly. Bucky stills, opens his hand and presses Steve’s cock up against his stomach. “Steve,” he warns. “Tell me.”

“... Wasn’t me,” Steve mumbles, embarrassed. “It was you. You were touching her, fucking her.”

Bucky’s guts tighten in arousal. “Oh?” he breathes. “You like thinkin’ about that? Like thinking about me laying her out? Her spreading her legs for me right here on this bed?” Steve groans and nods, whining impatiently and humping forward for more. Bucky chuckles and takes him in hand again, squeezing his shaft and fondling his balls. They’re tighter now, drawn up closer to his body as he gets more worked up. “So?” Bucky needles, when he still hasn’t gotten an answer. “Is that what you want?”

“Bucky, nngh, Yes, alright?”

“Mmhm.” He chuckles softly and nuzzles Steve’s neck, enjoying his husband’s flustered state. “But you know, I think I’d like to watch you.” He can just picture it: Steve’s muscled, strong body moving over her soft curves, his big hands holding her open gently—because everything Steve does is gentle—while he makes her cum on his cock. “Yeah. You like that idea, Big guy? Me too. I wanna watch this big fat dick—” he squeezes his fist on Steve— “plowing her sloppy, making her cum so good she even cries a little bit.” Steve whines again, and Bucky hums in agreement. “Mmhm. It’d be so hot, Stevie.”

Steve squirms against him in distress. “I, I’ve never … With girls I mean. I’m not … I’ve never …” he peters off, and Bucky’s got no idea what he’s saying.

“What?” He frowns and ruts his erection against the cleft of Steve’s ass for a little relief. “What’re you talking about, Baby? You’ve been with women before. College?”

Steve shakes his head against the pillow. “No, I mean I … I don’t know what to do. To make ‘em feel good. I’m … not good at it.”

Bucky actually stops what he’s doing. Steve grunts at the lack of touch, but Bucky just hushes him and pulls on his shoulder, urging him to turn over. “Hey. C’mere. Look at me.” Steve’s face is indeed colored pink when he turns to lie facing Bucky. His eyes flick up briefly, but dart away again, shy. Bucky’s heart squeezes. “Oh, Honey,” he says, bringing a hand up to cup Steve’s jaw. “Who told you that?” He thinks of murdering whatever coed bitch might’ve made Steve feel self-conscious.

Steve looks mortified. “Nobody did. Just … I could tell. The times I was with ‘em. I couldn’t make them, you know, cum.” He looks so ashamed as he admits it, and Bucky wants to grab him and kiss all over his entire face.

“Aw, Steve,” he coos. “Is that it? You’re nervous about being with a woman again? Not confident?”

Steve nods. He tucks himself against Bucky’s body and presses his face in his neck, hiding there. “Women are hard,” he mumbles. “I like ‘em, but it’s not easy.”

Bucky chuckles a little. “Yeah, that’s for sure. But it’s not that bad, baby. You just gotta know a few basics. Gotta take it real slow and feel them out, find out what makes her feel good. Every girl’s different. That’s the beauty in it.”

Steve grunts and ruts up against him, their cocks knocking together between their bellies. “Tell me?” he asks, eager and sweet. “Please, Buck? Tell me how.”

Bucky feels like half the blood leaves his brain, his dick throbbing anew. “Fuck,” he breathes, crazy turned on at the idea. “You want me to teach you, Stevie? Teach you how to get her crying? Dripping wet? How to touch her so good you make her cum?”

Steve shivers and nods, grinding his forehead into Bucky’s shoulder in embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah I want you to. Want you to teach me.”

Bucky pulls Steve’s head up to make him look at him. His face is pinched—embarrassed but wanting. Bucky curses. “Fuck. Yeah, yeah baby I’ll teach you how. C’mere.” He moves up the bed, pulling Steve’s meaty shoulders to get him to follow, directing him to sit in his lap, back to chest as Bucky props them up against the headboard. He spreads his legs wide to accommodate Steve’s bulk, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “My little overachiever,” he murmurs. “Such a Boy Scout, always wanting to be the best you can be.”

Steve huffs. “Don’t think they gave out merits for eating pussy,” he quips, uncharacteristically lewd.

Bucky barks out a laugh in delight. “Well pay attention, Sweetheart. You’re about to earn that badge.” Steve shudders against him, but he’s leaning back against Bucky, slumped just a little lower in his lap. He’s ready to listen, and Bucky’s fucking hot at the chance to tell. “First thing you gotta know,” he says, speaking delicately and smoothing his hands over Steve’s sides. “Is forget what you’ve seen in porn. They make that shit for us, not them. It’s all fake. No better way to make a girl miserable than to go pounding into her or whatever else.”

Steve makes a questioning noise, and God bless him, Bucky knows instantly that this is news to the big dummy. “But …” he hedges.

“No buts, Honey.” Bucky kisses his ear. “You gotta be so gentle. Always start soft, always go slow. Start that way and pay attention to her reactions.” He skims his fingertips up Steve’s ribs, tickling lightly over to his pecs and back down, making him gasp. “Yeah,” Bucky hums, “Just like that. She might be quiet at first, girls don’t moan all loud right off the bat. They don’t get worked up as fast as we do. They take time.”

Steve nods, panting a little as he listens to him. “W-what then?” he asks.

“Listen to her breathing, the sounds she makes. She’ll start breathing heavier when you’ve got her feeling good, start making little sounds without even realizing she’s doin’ it.” Steve looses a tiny whimper and Bucky grins. “Yeah, just like that.” He reaches down and finds Steve’s cock again, and god it’s sexy how wet his fella can get. He strokes him a few times, just languidly, letting the precum guide the slide of his fist. Not hurrying. Showing Steve what he means when he says ‘slow’.

“Oh,” Steve breathes, sounding gone for it.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “And then when she starts moving her hips?” He presses his crotch into the small of Steve’s back. “Just rubbing herself against you or humping up in the air a little? Oh yeah, that’s when she’s into it.” He brings one hand up to cradle Steve’s pec. “Girls are more sensitive here than we are,” he tells him. He’s looking over Steve’s shoulder now, eyeing up what he’s doing. He flicks his thumb over the nipple—so freaking small and petal pink where Bucky’s are darker. And he’s so responsive, the nipple pebbling up with hardly any effort on Bucky’s part. “Mmhm,” Bucky hums approvingly. “You want to try different things. You can just hold ‘em …” he uses both hands and cups the meat of Steve’s chest, giving a proprietary squeeze. Steve moans and Bucky smiles. “Yeah. But not too hard. Treat her tits like they’re something delicate, somethin’ special.” He makes the motion to Steve’s pecs like he would do to lightly bounce a woman’s breasts in his palms. “And Mary, she’s got smaller tits. A nice, healthy handful, just like you.”

Steve whines and squirms impatiently in his lap. Bucky glances down to check, and sees Steve’s cock; abandoned on his stomach, dark, and leaking. It’s so heavy and thick, the foreskin drawn halfway down the head, showcasing the shiny pink tip of him. Bucky curses softly. Fuck, but he wants to wring an orgasm out of that cock like ten minutes ago. But he forces himself to stay the course.

“When you use your mouth on her nipples,” he whispers, voice soft like velvet in Steve’s ear, “You can lick. Or nibble a little.” He mimics each option with a stroke and then a pinch of his fingers on Steve’s nipples, flicking out with his tongue to get the shell of Steve’s ear. “But I’ll tell you what: most of ‘em like it best when you suck.” He uses all five fingertips drawn together to pull gently at the peaks of Steve’s chest, and Steve makes a hurt, wanting sound. “Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “Suck her nipples. Then fit as much of her in your mouth as you can and suck that too.” He takes pity on Steve and reaches back down for his cock. Steve cries out, and Bucky gentles him. “Shh sh sh. Remember: slow.”

Steve groans, his tight hips flexing and pushing his cock up into the curl of Bucky’s fist. “Buck, please.”

“It’s not about you,” Bucky chides. “You’re a man. You get to cum so easy and all the time. You gotta help her get there, give her what she deserves.”

Steve sobs a little, so worked up from all the teasing, but he falls back into Bucky, relaxing against his chest and laying himself open for Bucky to continue. Pride and adoration for his man well up in Bucky at the show of submission. “Good,” he praises, giving an extra indulgent twist on the next upstroke. Steve’s foreskin moves with the motions, making soft, wet noises with all the precum he’s leaking. Bucky hums appreciatively. “Yeah, lookit that.” He draws his hand all the way up, tight, and then dips his thumb into the folds, rubbing into that wetness, against the sensitive head. “If you’re doing it right, touching her enough, she’ll be wet by now,” he says. “But you still shouldn’t go for her pussy yet. Not yet.”

“What … what else?” Steve asks muzzily, like he can’t think of anything else to do that doesn’t involve his dick getting jerked off or sticking it in a hypothetical pussy.

“Tease her,” Bucky says. “Run your hands all over her body, all over her soft skin.”

Steve sighs happily. “I like how soft they are. Smooth.”

Hearing Steve talk about what he likes about women makes Bucky’s dick throb, and he grinds it against Steve’s lower back for some relief. “Mmhm,” he agrees, moving his hands up and down the skin of Steve’s ribcage, his belly, grabbing on at his hips and giving a proprietary jostle. “Dig your fingers into her, gentle but insistent. Let her feel how much you love her body.”

“Now?” Steve asks.

“Not yet,” Bucky whispers.

“Fuck. Bucky.”

“Tease her,” he insists, ignoring Steve’s pleading. He slides his hands down Steve’s thighs and inwards, pulling them apart. Steve moans and spreads them wide. “Exactly,” Bucky says. “You want to touch her here. Run your hands all over, so close to where she wants it. Remember, if you’ve been doing this right, she’ll be wet by now.” He goes back and strokes the wetness along Steve’s shaft. “Sink down between her legs and kiss her thighs—you’ll smell it.”

“Oh my god.”

Bucky smiles, in love with his husband for how easily he comes apart under his care. He traces down to the base of Steve’s cock, making a vee with two fingers and rubbing the skin on either side. “Put pressure on her mound, really close but not touching where she wants it. Not yet.” His other hand slides down and delicately traces the seam of Steve’s sac. “Tease her, trace her folds. Get a little bit of that wetness and rub it around to make her even more sensitive. And then …” He blows gently on Steve’s ear. Steve moans. “Just like that. You want to wait. Don’t give her your mouth until she’s whining and shovin’ up at you for it.”

“Nngh,”

Bucky chuckles and circles the wet pad of his finger over one testicle and then the other. He nudges at Steve’s taut sac and whispers in his ear. “Push her lips apart.”

Steve is breathing hard through his nose, tense, his dick bobbing rock hard and angry in the air. Bucky has mercy on him and reaches for it, and Steve chokes out a sob of relief at only the slightest touch.

Bucky kisses his temple soothingly. “Shh. Here. Riiight here.” He holds the head between his thumb and fingers and starts jacking just the tip of him, foreskin tugging and gliding in that way that he knows feels amazing for Steve. “Right above her sweet spot, see? You rub on her like this, up and down, back and forth. Work the hood over her clit juuust like this.”

Steve makes a debased groan at the echo of what Bucky’s saying, and how he’s working Steve’s foreskin over the head of his dick. “Fuck, fuck,” he hisses.

“Yeah, you’re close. She’s soaked by now. You think it’s time to give her more?”

“Bucky. Yes, yes, please.” His hips are straining upwards but he lets his head loll back on Bucky’s shoulder, open for what he’ll do next. “Please,” he begs.

“Now this is important, baby, so pay attention,” Bucky says. “Some women like a mouth on ‘em down there, some don’t. Some do, but they have a hang up over how they think they look or taste or something.” Steve makes a sad noise at that, matching Bucky’s opinion that: yeah, women shouldn’t worry so much. Pussy is just generally fucking awesome. “Tell her how much you love it,” he says. “The taste of her, the shape of her lips. Make her feel pretty and wanted.” He’s fondling Steve’s balls anew as he says this, rubbing and rolling them, then cupping his whole palm over them and dipping behind to dig fingertips into his taint. “Come on, Stevie,” he goads, “Let me hear it. Tell me what you’d say.”

It takes Steve a few tries before he can pull enough of his brain out of his dick to rasp, “S’fucking gorgeous p-pussy. So … so wet. Can I lick it Honey, huh? Please lemme lick it. Wanna taste that sweet cunt.”

Bucky gasps, shocked and delighted at Steve’s dirty talk. “Oh, Stevie,” he groans. “Baby. Fuck, yes. I didn’t know you had it in you.” He wraps his hand fully around Steve’s cock and starts jerking him off fast, fast enough that it’s obvious he’s finally aiming to make Steve cum, and Steve chokes on a relieved heave of breath.

"Yes! Oh, thank you!”

Bucky attacks Steve’s neck with his mouth, biting and smearing spit and scraping his teeth over the wet skin. He growls as he watches his fist working furiously over Steve's red, hard dick. “Suck her clit while you fuck her on your fingers,” he rasps. “Tell her she’s a good girl, tell her to ride your face, grind down on your hand. Make sure she knows she’s allowed to let go.”

Steve cries out, guttural and loud like he always gets when his pleasure is cresting. “Bucky, Buck. Honey, oh. F-fuck, m’close.”

“Mmhm. Thaat’s it, Princess,” he says, pitching his voice just so and using that name so that Steve knows. Knows he’s talking to her.

Steve whines, his whole body tight and straining into Bucky’s grip.

“Curl your fucking fingers in her,” Bucky growls. “She’s close. Don’t slow down. Don’t even speed up. She likes what you’re doing now, so don’t you dare fucking change a thing.”

“Bucky!”

“That’s it, Princess, just like that. You’re almost there.”

“Fuck, fuck … ssshit …”

“Ride Daddy’s hand, fuck back on it. Good girl.”

Steve jerks and shouts, cock pulsing in telltale contractions, before searing ropes of come shoot up his stomach and all over Bucky’s hand. “Oh, oh, oh!” He grunts through it with gorgeous sounds, and Bucky’s so in love with the sight of it that he’s not roleplaying anymore when he purrs, “Fucking beautiful, Sweetheart.”

Steve slumps when it’s over, still panting from the pleasure. Bucky eases off, sets his wet and slowly softening dick gently against his stomach. He moves them, guiding Steve to turn over and lie out on his front. He shoves Steve’s legs together and straddles them, swipes his hand that’s covered in Steve’s release into the tight space between his thighs, wetting him up. He growls viciously, pent up and rock hard and ready to fucking cum. He ruts into the wet clench of Steve’s thick thighs, fucking him like he’s got a loose, easy cunt. “Fuck, baby,” he grits, close within a matter of minutes. He chases his orgasm and collapses onto Steve’s broad back when it hits, grinding in hard one last time and shouting loud and guttural with how goddamn good it feels. “Fuck! Ughn, f-ffuuck.”

He comes down heaving, panting against Steve’s skin. Steve is strong enough that he can roll out from under his weight, and he pulls Bucky into his arms and draws his head onto his chest. Bucky goes gratefully, happy to have Steve’s firm pecs as a pillow. “God, honey,” he breathes, wrung out. Steve makes a noise of agreement. They just lie there together, sweaty and spent, catching their breath for a long time.

“... Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“… You’re a good teacher.”

Bucky laughs and crawls up to kiss Steve on the mouth. “Yeah,” he says when they part. “But that wasn’t even the main event.” Steve looks confused for a second, before Bucky slyly clarifies: “You still gotta fuck her. And you know you want to make her cum at least twice.”

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

226 notes · View notes

spaceistheplaceart · 1 year ago

Text

Body Swap - The Exorcism Part Two

wanted to do a bit more but ough i am TIRED... this took a lot out of me lmao but i hope y'all enjoy! lmk what u think in the tags/replies/asks :)

masterpost

(Please Reblog! Leave a comment in the tags! They make me very happy :)

SUMMARIZED ID: Reigen and Mob are shown the client's living room, it is in disarray. Reigen begins investigating the room, but begins to feel the presence of spirits... They keep a sharp eye out, as something moves about the room quickly.

FULL ID UNDER CUT

START ID:

(This is a body swap, so I'll be referring to the characters as who they actually are but keep in mind that Reigen is in Mob's body and vice versa.)

Mob watches Dimple fly leave, then goes inside Hiroto's house by shutting the door.

Cut to inside, Hiroto is opening a door for Mob and Reigen. Reigen has his hands on his hips. The client says, "This is where it's been happening." The room inside is moderately sized with a triple pane window on the far left wall. There is a fireplace, a couch, a ripped up armchair, two carpets- both rumpled and one torn, a doggy bed, a toy train, some balls, a tipped over coffee table, some askew and fallen paintings, some shelving units, and a chest of drawers on the right hand wall that has upon it multiple knick knacks. A drawer is missing from it and laying on the floor. There is a book with some pages torn out as well. All in all, it's a room that has seen some damage.

Hiroto lifts a nearby painting, showing three long scratches that were seen previously in the comic as a flashback. "See?" He says, looking at Mob. Mob looks at the scratches, somewhat narrowing his eyes. "Hmm..."

Reigen steps in, leaned over with his hand on his chin, looking at the scratches. Hiroto looks down at him, a little surprised. Reigen asks, "Hmm... have you noticed any strange smells?" "Smells?" The client repeats.

"Yes, like something rotting or damp. Spirits can sometimes carry over scents from their bodies, and that helps us determine which kind of ghost it is." Reigen says, gesturing with one hand while pointing upwards with the other. Hiroto shrugs, smile askew. "No, I haven't smelled anything strange..." He turns to Mob. "What do you think?"

Mob stands in the middle of the room, looking up. "Hmmm. I... don't feel anything." His speech bubble is overlapped by Reigen's, "AHAHA!!!" Reigen laughs, moving to Mob's side and resting one hand on Mob's arm, smiling wide and nervous as he explains to Hiroto: "They must be so weak that my Master is having a hard time picking up on them, but I can sense something in this room... ah, I can sense weaker spirits-- you know. I take care of them for my Master."

Mob gives Reigen a deadpan look. "Is that all you do?" Reigen's smile dims and he sweats.

"Al... right. Well, I'll leave you two to it... I've got to run to the store for a bit..." Hiroto crosses his arms. "And those ghosts better be gone when I get back."

Reigen waves a hand dismissively, using his customer service smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Hiroto, we'll have your spirit problem taken care of in no time!"

Hiroto begins to shut the door. He smiles nervously. "Sure thing..." He leaves.

After a moment, Mob looks down at Reigen, who is now crouching and looking at the scratches. He joins him on the floor.

Reigen says, "Hm... This guy could have a mouse problem. Or termites, possibly... hopefully not."

"I don't think mice could tip over chairs, Master."

"True, but the dogs could chase the mice and knockk over the chairs...." Reigen holds up a finger, his eyes are shut as he lectures Mob. "Always rule out the probable, Mob! Then, you can start looking for the less probable." Mob looks unimpressed.

Reigen stands up, hand in his pocket. "You do have a point, Mob. Although I hate to admit it... This could be a real hauntiiii-IIING!" His speech transitions into a yelp as his back straightens and eyes go wide. The background of the panel is dark with white wisps darting across it. Reigen crosses his arms and glares off to the side, his hair floating up due to his psychic abilities. He shudders. "Do you think the client would notice if we turned his A/C up? It's freezing in here!"

"I'm not cold." Mob responds.

Reigen grits his teeth and narrows his eyes, still tense. He's shivering. "Huh? It's freezing! Are you anemic or... something? Sensitive to cold?"

"No, I think the cold is probably the spirits."

Reigen flinches, then looks off to the side, smiling nervously. "Oh! Yes! Yes. The spirits! I recognize it now. Uh... you don't feel anything, do you?"

"Nope."

"Great." He puts his hand to his chin in thought. "What do you see, then? Anything?"

"Master, I don't have powers right now, remember?"

Reigen stares at Mob, his hair floating up due to his powers again. The background is dark and shadow-y, with the colouring of Reigen being all white. He's pale.

The next panel is of a similar style, dark and silent as they both look at eachother.

Mob angles his head down, looking at Reigen through his bangs and sweating slightly. "... Because we've switches bodies, I only have your powers right now... not mine?" The panel colour is lighter, and Reigen's hair calms slightly.

"Right." Reigen says, sighing and turning away from Mob, arms crossed. The panel is nearly white again, like normal. Mob is looking to the side, too, eyes downturned with a sweat drop on his cheek.

A view of a model train set, turned over. The carpet is rumpled and there is a painting sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. Reigen speaks, "I definitely feel something in this room... but I don't see it. Keep a sharp eye out, just in case. Even if you're having trouble with my powers, I'm sure you can still pull something off."

Mob and Reigen stand back to back, glancing around the room. Then something 'wooshes', represented by a panel with a dark gray background and white lines flowing across it with the text 'woosh' on it.

Reigen startles, turning to look at the far side of the room. There is nothing of note there. He sees only the window, the couch, and the chair.

END ID.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #comic #reigen arataka #mp100 body swap #op art #shigeo kageyama

306 notes · View notes

conceptionsofconciousness · 26 days ago

Text

Mula Nakshatra natives are renowned for their humorous nature, frequently entertaining others with their witty remarks, amusing jokes, and elaborate stories. They possess a knack for sarcasm, which adds an extra layer of humor to their conversations. They have a unique ability to find humor in even the most mundane situations, bringing amusement to everyday life and often serving as the life of the party.

More posts on Mula Nakshatra

Nakshatra Notes Masterpost (Link collection of all 27 Nakshatras)

25 notes · View notes

lenreli · 7 months ago

Text

Conduit [Dreamling Week Day 2 - Flowers]

[AO3] | [Dreamling Week '24 Masterpost]

E, 2.9k. An innocently given gift becomes much more.

It starts with a simple gift. A flower, a red rose, made from dreams and everlasting, as long as Hob wanted it to last ― and one time, Dream thought of giving him one, in the 15th century, but threw it away, letting it dissolve into nothing before he entered The White Horse.

“It’s beautiful,” Hob whispers, brown eyes glued to the flower in his hands, held so gently and Dream wants, seeing how delicately Hob touches it, one finger going up a soft green stem to the bottom of the rose.

“A gift,” he says as he steps away, mouth dry as Hob continues to softly touch it, a finger softly touching the top of the red petals. “It will never wilt.”

Hob smiles so brightly that Dream’s unsure how the local star can compete as Hob holds it even more delicately, holding it close to his chest as Hob starts to ramble, going on about fake flowers and boutique, avant-garde art that Dream’s present could pass as.

“I’m glad you like it,” Dream whispers, watching as Hob walks around his various knick-knacks for the perfect vase to match it, eventually digging up a thin black vase with golden cracks through it from a spare room. Kinstugi.

It’s as he’s listening to a Nightmare’s concerns that Dream realises, a soft touch flowing through him that he stops, the Nightmare freezing in place.

Then another touch, fluttering inside and Dream vanishes into his room as there’s another touch, near his thighs and he shivers, shutting his eyes at the feeling. And also, to reach out to where the touch originates―

His flower, the red rose, intertwined with him, his yearning as Hob works at his office at university, and Dream gasps as a finger goes through the centre of the rose, arousal coiling the warmth of it so deep inside. Whining, he can see that Hob’s not even paying attention, the fingers pressing into the rose more of a fidget as he works at something on his laptop.

Keening, he can only feel the soft pads of Hob’s fingers inside, warmth pressing against suddenly-made ribs and organs, more for the soft wisps to touch as Hob lightly touches the outside of the petals, moving to the top and Dream can only cry, only aware as the fingers leave, cold returning in their place.

I should stop this, he thinks with harsh clarity―then, he can hear it, the vase being pulled closer to Hob, quiet words whispered to the flower. Not anything focused on Dream, more Hob talking to himself as he works through references and books, warm gusts of breath heating him up as Hob continues to work.

Dream closes his eyes and soaks in the warmth.

He… forgets. To stop it, although next time he visits Hob in his home, he’s glad to know that the rose is nowhere in the vicinity. “My friend!” Hob beams at him, coming closer like he’s going to hug―and then Hob stops.

“Hello,” he offers, strangling the disappointment and bitterness that he feels as Hob moves to get something close to him, a record. “No university today?”

Hob laughs and gets the vinyl record out, putting it softly onto the turntable setup he has “It’s the weekend, Dream!” Hob waves a hand and looks down at his clothes, a threadbare white shirt and blue boxer shorts, “and I was going to get dressed and mark some of my things at The New Inn.”

“Why the music?” Dream frowns and stares at the record spinning, Pink Floyd flooding the house as Hob walks into his kitchen. Eventually following, he finds Hob getting out a sourdough bread and eggs.

“It’s nice while making food, of course,” Hob mumbles, getting more things out of the fridge and other cupboards and Dream watches, the whorls of fingerprints still aching underneath his skin, his ribs.

At his Shores of Creation, working on a multi-limbed dream, he feels a light touch up his back. Stopping his work, he shuts his eyes and can see Hob’s office, hazy and transient as a thumb lightly touches the side of the rose. It’s a gift from a friend, Hob says, eyes soft as they stare down at the rose and Dream’s just-made heart thuds in his chest.

Some friend, huh? Someone else says, voice light and soft and can almost see her expression as Hob laughs, fingers going down the green stem and Dream lets out sound at the touch, hot and sharp from Hob’s nails. The press of it is maddening as a finger fiddles with a leaf on the stem.

He’s very important to me. Shut up, Hob pouts and pulls the rose closer, and Dream lets out a gasp at the touch of lips on top of the rose, on his head.

Okay loverboy, calm down, Hob’s friend says with a laugh and he can feel a huff, Hob’s hand curling tighter around the rose and Dream moans, shaking at the feel of so much, mind stuttering and falling over itself. Stop fondling that and let’s get lunch, you weirdo.

I’m perfectly normal, Hob mutters, and Dream lets out keen as the connection ends, ghostly touch no longer on him. Opening his eyes, he looks up at the sky as he takes a deep breath as he sits up, somehow ending up lying on the sand.

Shivering, Dream puts a hand on his chest, the touch doing nothing as his half-finished creations stare down at him.

The connection flares to life, effectively distracting from a report Mervyn is giving about ― flowers, red petals that he complains are flooding the grounds of the castle. He can feel the cause of that flowers, a touch pressing below the flower itself, at the top of the stem, can see Hob at his desk, a mass of white paper he’s focusing on.

“Again?!” Mervyn complains and stalks off, grumbling and Dream fades back into his bedroom, knowing that working like this wouldn’t be productive. A finger goes down the green stem and Dream gasps, sinking onto his bed as Hob talks to himself ― mainly, about the essays he’s grading, the words blurry and out of focus compared to the hand fiddling with the flower, stroking up and down the stem as Hob yawns and scratches his forehead.

Dream’s skin tingles as Hob seems to notice his other hand on the flower, making him grumble to himself more ― and Dream almost swallows his tongue as Hob brings the flower closer, stubble pressing into the flower ― and into him, as Hob rests his jaw on the petals. The rough, prickly feeling makes him whimper, pleasure heightening to absurd levels so quickly that it makes him dizzy, falling into the sensations even more.

Hob sighs, expression disappointed with what he’s reading and Dream can feel the orgasm approaching as a finger goes up, tracing the edge of a petal ― and the wracking pleasure of coming feels secondary to the way the finger goes inside, pressing softly inside as Hob yawns once more, stretching in his place.

The oversensitivity itches, sharp sensation at the way Hob’s jaw returns to the petal, and a sound is wrenched out of him at the way he can feel soft hair and Dream, as always, feel the urge to reach out to touch the soft skin he can feel, the calluses on the other’s hands.

Spending a morning in on Hob’s lecture is something he’s never getting enough of ― seeing Hob in his element, around people, as he asks questions of his students, and they ask in return. Hob never seems to be awkward around people, bright and engaging, and Dream envies the ease at which Hob carries himself. Even with being a King, it feels awkward and ill-fitting, not right or true, though people never realise it.

“What do you think of―Dream?” Hob asks and he blinks, thoughts crashing since they’re in Hob’s office, and he freezes at the sight of the red flower, still in its black-gold vase. “Dream?”

“Yes?” He blinks, holding himself still as Hob hovers over his desk ― and the flower, insides becoming hot at just the sight of it.

Hob looks down at his desk and shrugs, smiling, “ah. Nevermind. I never got you a gift in return for this, did I?” Hob says softly, a hand hovering above the flower and Dream goes even more still.

“It’s fine,” he replies quickly and Hob blinks, looking at him with confusion as he puts his hand onto the table. Dream relaxes, insides scorching hot at just the thought of previous touches, still imprinted onto him.

“Still, you’re my friend and I’d want to give something to you in return,” Hob sighs and gets out some things from his bag, putting it onto the table.

“You have already given me your friendship, which is enough,” he says as Hob gets out a plastic bento box.

“Even so, might do some sort of thing for you anyway,” Hob says with a grin, shaking his bento, “gonna go heat this up. Won’t be long! Don’t go anywhere. Or, at least, leave a note or something, please,” he continues and Dream nods, watching Hob rush out the door.

Dream gives a wary look to the flower, still as red and green as the day it was made ― and drifts over to Hob’s many books, eventually finding one that seems interesting enough to read while Hob has his lunch break.

Mainly, Dream has been waiting, not much work being done as Mervyn despairs even more over the constant red petals.

Then, a fizzling sensation trails up his back and Dream sinks into the sensation, into his bed. Hob is in his office, a thumb pressing up the back of the stem, staring down at the flower in contemplation and Dream wants. Can feel himself overflow with it as the thumb presses into the petal, pushing in between them and a keen gets pulled out of him.

“Hob,” he whimpers, voice loud and Hob unable to hear it as he whines, arching into it as Hob’s thumb reaches the centre, the feeling all-consuming and rough, calluses scratching against the petals. Hob sighs and rests his face on his other hand, and Dream cries out as the thumb drifts out of the flower, moving to stroke the top of it.

Dream, Hob says, browns furrowing and Dream’s insides twist, gripping at his hair as Hob continues to stare―

―Then falls against the desk, fast asleep, fingers leaving the flower―

“Dream?” Hob says, in his realm, in his room, pulled along by Dream’s crushing want.

“Touch me,” he whines, almost out of his mind with the sudden lack of feeling as Hob gapes, eyes round, in the leather jacket, pants and top he was probably wearing, beard more like 1389.

“But I was just―” Hob pauses and hovers over him, still looking but not touching―and Hob lets out a sound as Dream’s clothes vanish, as Dream grabs onto the other’s wrist. “Dream―”

“You will not touch me?” He breathes, looking up from his lashes. Hob lets out a whine, and he shivers as a hand presses against his chest, nails lightly scratching down his torso.

“I―I do, I want, it’s just. Do you really? Want this?” Hob leans over him, his other hand caressing Dream’s side, still hesitant.

“Did you not hear me?” He growls, urging the hand he’s grabbed onto to go lower. “I want you,” he whispers, watching as Hob shivers, gulping loudly in the room. “I want you inside, to feel that fully and wholly,” he states, pulling Hob closer until Hob gasps.

“I, um. Fuck,” Hob breathes, lips so close to his own ― and he moans as Hob kisses him, as hands go down to his hips, the musk of him rich and moreish, mouth tasting of spices. “And the, um. The flower?” Hob squeaks, eyes on his lower half ― at the black flower at his groin, petals unfurling out onto his thighs, his stomach, the centre cluster of it wet and leaking.

“That flower I gave you,” he breathes, arching into Hob’s fingers, gently stroking the edge of the petals on him, knowing it’s not the answer Hob’s expecting, “accidentally I made a connection with it ― to be touched like that flower, and ever since I’ve felt it, your fingerprints engraved on the inside of me as you touched and fondled that flower.”

Hob groans, other hand going into his hair as they kiss, Hobs’ tongue probing his mouth as the other hand goes closer to the centre, dipping into the folds of the flower and making him whine. “Whenever I touched it, I thought of you, wanting to touch you too, but not knowing if you’d―” Hob strangles out, fingers reaching even deeper into him and pleasure bubbles and fizzles, some far-off part of him wondering if that’s why the flower became a conduit, both of their yearning converging onto the dreamstuff that made it.

“I would like for you to stop being a tease,” he grabs onto Hob’s clothes, getting rid of them with a thought and they gasp as their skin touches.

Hob laughs, wild and cracked as he bites down his neck, making Dream moan at the feeling, “I’m still wrapping my head around this, cut me some slack,” Hob speaks into his collarbone, “and this,” Hob’s fingers crook inside the part of the flower and he keens, a hand threading through Hob’s chest hair, other hand gripping onto the back of Hob’s neck, “this is just so ― you’re so beautiful.”

Dream tries to say something, but he can only shudder as fingers leave him, ghosting over the petals, closer to the his leaking centre, watching through his lashes as Hob stares at him reverently. And looking down, Dream can see how hard Hob’s cock is, still not inside ― so he digs his nails into Hob’s neck and pulls him down, their mouths meeting desperately as a hard cock brushes against him, feeling pre-come dripping down his petals.

“Fuck,” Hob swears, language going more Old English as they rut against each other, petals sliding against the hardness so―Dream gasps, feeling fingers go into the centre, twisting roughly and making pleasure jolt through him. “How do you―you feel so soft, like silk,” Hob breathes, nails scratching against his walls and he shivers.

Putting his other hand into Hob’s hair, his thumb presses the silvers under it―then pulls him in for a brutal kiss, biting into his mouth as Hob whines and shudders against him, fingers twitching sporadically inside him. “And yet,” he doesn’t finish, their mouths connected by a string of saliva, for little how they part.

Hob swallows, eyes dark as his fingers slip out. “It’s not my fault. I’d want to play for hours if you’d let me,” he says, licking his lips as Hob lines himself up, making Dream scrabble to hold onto the other’s back as his cock finally slides in.

“After,” he manages, eyes rolling to the back of his head as Hob starts to fuck him, walls clenching tightly around the other’s cock as it slides out, then pushes back in.

Dream comes either after hours or seconds, time stretching as he is already so coiled tight from lingering ghost touches, flower at his groin curling up tightly around the other’s cock as bliss rocks through him. Hob follows him shortly, gasping as their fluids mix and leak out of him.

Dream is floating, mind clear and feeling the sensations, even after Hob’s gone back to the Waking World.

Then there’s a familiar connection, a thumb pressed against the edge of the red flower. Dream, Hob says, the hazy connection showing his home and Dream blinks, sitting up as he puts on a sheer black robe and steps into Hob’s apartment. “You’re lucky I keep spare clothes at work after that,” Hob points out, nail dragging under the top of a flower petal ― and Dream bites down a moan.

“I ― apologise,” he whines, nails and calluses pressing against his skin as a thumb goes into the outer layer of the rose.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Dream,” Hob says, a nail pressing against the bottom of the rose and Dream kneels underneath the touches. “You did say we could play after though. If you still want.”

Hob walks closer, the smell of him more concentrated in the Waking, sharp and floral ― or some of that might be the rose still in his hand, other fingers dancing along the outside of the flower and Dream’s mind scrambles under so much as he rests his head against Hob’s thigh. “Yes.”

A dual touch, a finger sliding inside a petal, inside him, as well as Hob’s other hand touching his hair, pulling a moan out of him as Hob kneels down next to him. Buzzing with pleasure, he stares at the other’s dark eyes as Hob tugs him in for a kiss, hair roughly held in his fingers ― the finger in the flower also pressing against the bottom of the flower and he shivers, the touch inside and deep.

The dual touch may be a lot, but the lack of it is even worse as Hob gets up, leaving him cold as nails scratch up the stem, and he somehow manages to get up, latching onto Hob’s waist as they kiss.

[Fin]

#dc #the sandman #dreamling #dreamling fanfic #dream x hob #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling week #dreamling week 2024 #writing #not sfw #enjoyed this one a lot

65 notes · View notes

thefreakandthehair · 1 year ago

Text

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 24th: Drama | His Kiss the Riot - Anaïs Mitchell | Magnetic a/n: steddie, pining, mutual crushes, forced proximity, the universal theater kid horror of having to hug your crush on stage [click here for the AMAZING corresponding artwork by @artbean!] read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

Community theater isn’t a far leap for Eddie Munson.

With high school finally far behind him, he’s free to fill his time how he pleases. There aren’t many things about those four cinder block walls that he’d say he misses, but the drama of Hellfire Club makes the short list. So no, it’s not a far leap for Eddie Munson to join the local Hawkins Community Theater.

It is, however, a moon-landing sized leap to find Steve Harrington in the small auditorium when he shows up for Grease tryouts. Sure, Grease is a little kitsch, maybe a bit too on the nose for his first local community production, but that’s all forgotten when he ends up scoring the role of Kenickie and has to rehearse opposite of Steve’s Zuko.

Because of course Steve gets cast as Danny Zuko.

The monsters he’d dreamed up for Hellfire Club were intimidating, but nothing is more horrifying than having to hug the guy who’d been the leading man in most of his wet dreams throughout– and admittedly, even after– high school.

Day after day, take after take, Eddie as Kenickie asks Steve as Zuko to be his second at Thunder Road, they hug, and then pull away to fix their hair and strut off screen for the set change. Eddie can’t speak for Steve, but the flush to his cheeks and awkward hair combing is not acting.

Rehearsal has absolutely nothing on opening night, that first time Eddie finds himself shoved into a too-tight space behind the curtain with Steve. In their haste to get out of the way, Eddie stumbles and catches himself against a wall, turning to find Steve nose-to-nose, braced on one forearm against the same wall to the left of Eddie’s head.

Eddie swallows, harsh and thick, and releases a shaky exhale. “You good, man?”

Steve grins and nods. “Little tight back here, huh?”

“Terrible conditions for the leading man, I have to say.” Eddie whispers.

“Eh,” Steve starts. “I don’t think they’re that bad.”

Eddie’s sure that he’s hallucinated the way Steve’s eyes flicker down to his lips and back up. Wayne always says that Eddie has a knack for seeing what he wants to see, after all.

“That’s your cue,” Steve moves and jerks his head to the stage. “See you back out there, Kenickie.” The motherfucker winks and Eddie’s head spins, his lines jumbled and his steps just a bit off.

Hawkins Community Theater’s production of Grease is a two week commitment, six shows in total, and each one gets better and better. Eddie grows more and more confident with his performance during Greased Lightning, landing his marks with ease and actively avoiding the decidedly inappropriate thoughts about Steve kneeling in front of him on the hood of the car. His chemistry with Rizzo, played by none other than Nancy Wheeler, turns into an honest to God friendship that takes them both by surprise. Hell, he’s even gotten dinner with the cast a few times.

It’s all going smoothly, except that Eddie’s sure he’s going to die before the end of this run. Night after night, Eddie finds himself shoved up against Steve Harrington who must have some sort of bet running to see if he can get Eddie to fold. If so, he’s definitely winning.

In the show’s final weekend, he ends up crammed between a wall and Steve behind the curtain and really, he’s just a man. How much of this can he be expected to take without his head exploding? Or his–

“Nice job out there, Munson. Had me convinced you were actually like, flustered or whatever.” Steve whispers, his lips too close to Eddie’s skin.

He might have imagined it, but he’s fairly certain they actually grazed the reddening tip of his ear. “Oh, are we dropping out of character now? I thought that was strictly forbidden, Zuko.”

Steve shakes his head and leans in closer, intentionally. It has to be intentional this time, right? “It’s our final show, I think we can just be Harrington and Munson now. Or, maybe just Steve and Eddie?”

Steve and Eddie, Steve and Eddie, SteveandEddie.

Eddie's head buzzes, swimming in the combinations of their names. They sound good together, and he can’t be misreading this, not when Steve leans closer still, his eyes glowing with the stage light creeping behind the curtain. Their lips nearly touch when Steve speaks again, close enough for Eddie to feel

“That’s your cue. I’m gonna miss being stuck back here with you, so let me know after the show.”

Eddie nearly chokes and purses his lips. “Are you doing this on purpose to throw me off, Harrington?”

“Just can’t stay away. Munson.” Steve winks again and leans back, making space for Eddie to sneak around him to take his place for the audience.

Eddie warms beneath the bright lights of the stage, but they have nothing on the scintillating radiance of Steve’s eyes on him backstage.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs #eddie month prompts

161 notes · View notes

sluttybwunni · 2 years ago

Text

Pearly Whites

masterpost

▎wc: 1.2k

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (GN)Reader

summary : in-which reader can’t help but find luffy’s presence and pearly whites more than endearing, especially after a bad day.

‎ ‎ ‎

warnings : slight angst, hurt to comfort(?), fluff, strawhat!reader, post-timeskip luffy, kissing, crying, reader can’t seem to sleep, mentions of anxiety, stress, luffy has a knack for making everything better, brief mention of injuries, use of profanity, luffy smells like cinnamon and reader wants to eat him (non literal its more so an affectionate urge to just.. nom)

‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

you didn’t quite know what led up to this as you were sat on your bed, hands in your hair feeling the lump in your throat grow larger. everything felt so overwhelming lately. maybe all this exhaustion had strum off from too many nights keeping watch over the sunny, or from the constant struggle of attempting to keep the pit of worry that formed in your stomach under control when escorting one of your injury ridden crewmates down to choppers office after a battle.

nevertheless whatever the reasons, you were feeling awful today, and the final straw was when you spilled hot coffee over the book robin so kindly lent to you. it was a simple mistake, yet it made you feel so incompetent. “fuck” you heaved out silently, tugging on a loc of hair as the tears threatened to spill. though you had already cleaned up and attempted to dry the pages off, it was still evident from the light brownish color on the now wrinkled paper. “air, yes i just need air..” you thought to yourself, arising from the bed and slowly pushing open the door of your room. you were creeping out of your quarters ever so careful to not make noise for the snoring strawhats who weren’t ridden with insomnia, headed into the open deck on the sunny attempting to take enough oxygen needed to help clear your head.

staring into the vast ocean and watching as the water shone under the stars had always worked when in momentary distress. but for some reason tonight, the sinking feeling that had plagued you refused to leave so easily. you wanted to sink down and cry, but you couldnt. the tears you once held back now refuse to resurface. it angered you, not being able to even cry when you wanted to. as you spun to face the opposite way deciding to head back to your bed, you met the eyes of a sleepy looking luffy in shorts and a black tee.

“hey (name)!!! why aren’t you sleeping??” your boyfriend prodded, his voice slightly too loud and cheerful for the silence of the night. you gave the dark haired boy a light smile, admiring his features thanks to the slight gleam from the sky perfectly shining down on his face. “im just not quite sleepy enough, lu” you lazily replied, turning your attention back at the stars. luffys gaze followed you, approaching slowly from behind so you could be beside eachother. he hummed in response to your words, trying to find what was so interesting about the sky to you.

though he quickly grew bored of boring his eyes into the stars, instead of rambling to you about his thoughts or midnight snacking like what would usually occur when you happened to find your captain awake, luffy turned to look at you, studying your expression. even though you’re not quite the chatty type, you’re not one to keep absolute silence. especially not with luffy. so when he saw how your eyebrows were furrowed, and the way your lips carried a small frown he spoke up again.

“love?” luffy whispered. “do you need a hug?” you gave him a small “huh..?” , not understanding why he had suddenly asked you and not daring to make eye contact. the emotions which bubbled up throughout the day threatened to spill out once more. “c’mere” he spoke in a warm tone, stretching his arms around you and pulling you in. luffy’s head rested on your shoulder, his hands gently stroked your back a couple of times. the enchanting scent of cinnamon coming from him made you weak. he smelt so good, he felt so soft around you. you didn’t want to let go, and neither did he. so you stayed in that position for a good minute, enjoying eachothers warm shelter from the breeze that danced on your skin. you could feel his heart beating, yours was too. so rapidly that if it wasn’t for luffy puling away, your heart may have over palpitated. though the relief was short-lived. he giggled after breaking the hug showing you a glimpse of his signature pearly whites. those gorgeous teeth that twinkle brighter than the stars.

it seemed that was all you needed and more to finally let the tears spill over. luffy stopped smiling when he noticed your wet face. “hey…... hey it’s okay.” he pulled you in once more slightly swaying you from side to side. luffy didn’t know what to do, he was slightly panicked when you started sobbing a little harder in his embrace. so out of instinct he pecks your forehead not once but twice, then a third time. however many times was needed to take away your sadness. “(name), whatever's wrong just know im here for ya okay? im always here.” you were already out of the gutter thanks to the way he whispered into your ear and snuggled his head into the crook of your neck, gripping onto you tightly to let you know he was there for you as you sobbed. you didn’t have the chance to tell him the exact reasons you were feeling so upset, as you didn’t really know why as well, but it didn’t matter, luffy listened patiently as you went on about how exhausting things felt, and how you were having difficulty with simple daily tasks. hours could’ve went by while you were in his arms and you would never notice. you felt safe, mumbling a “thank you” and wrapping your hands around his torso. luffy was confused. he couldn’t understand why you had thanked him despite doing so little. he accepted your gratitude anyways, looking into your eyes and grinning.

maybe it was because of the moon glistening so angelically onto his face or the gentle but crisp sound of waves in the background that made his smile, him, ever so prettier tonight. you couldn’t put your finger on why you felt more lightheaded than usual as he slid one arm away from your middle, taking your hand in his, but you didn’t care. you didn’t care when you both seemed to be inching closer together, and definitely you didn’t care when the urge to kiss overpowered the both of you.

it was airy, messy and eager. teeth clashing onto one another as you both smiled and giggled into the exchange. trying to mush yourselves closer together. it confessed a lifetime of words you have yet to express out loud. luffy whined when you tugged on his hair, deepening your kiss. if i weren’t for human urge to inhale and exhale, luffy would’ve kissed you forever.

“can i just eat you?” you mumbled without hesitating. luffy tilted his head in thought, but only for a moment as he still kept your gaze.

“not if i eat you first!” he laughed attacking your neck with little nibbles. you pinched his rubbery cheek, signalling him to stop before you guys wake someone up. luffy somehow always knew how to comfort you, even if he was unaware of doing so.

“i love you.” he breathed out, his doe eyes giving you those familiar butterflies you always felt. you smiled at him, and he graced you with his own once more. “i love you and your pearly whites too.” you replied, a blush creeping up on luffy’s face.

“i’ll always smile for you then.”

495 notes · View notes

datvtranscripts · 13 days ago

Text

The Enemy of My Enemy Pt. 5

Taking Point

Signs and Portents Masterpost Previous: The Gods’ Plans

Rook goes to talk to Varric in the infirmary.

Varric: So Solas told the truth about the gods.

Rook: You heard? It's bad, Varric. If you'd seen D'Meta's Crossing…

Varric: The team needs to act fast… and it can't do that with me leading from a bed. You've gotta take point on this.

Dialogue options:

Affable: I don’t want your job. [1]

Sarcastic: I can’t replace you. [2]

Stoic: If that’s what you want. [3]

1 - Affable: I don’t want your job. Rook: I didn't come in here trying to take your job, Varric. Varric: I know you didn't. But it's what the team needs right now. Rook: You sure? Harding/Neve got hurt because she listened to me.[4]

2 - Sarcastic: I can’t replace you. Rook: I can't do what you do. I've barely been holding it together in the short time you've been out. Varric: You don't need to do what I do. You just need to get it done. [4]

3 - Stoic: If that’s what you want. Rook: I'll get it done. Varric: I never doubted it. [4]

4 - Scene continues.

Varric: Rook, when I put this team together, what did I look for? A detective to find the Dread Wolf and a scout to get us the lay of the land. Exactly the people he'd expect me to recruit. Disciplined. Predictable. And then there's you. Remember when we first met kid?

Origin dependent dialogue:

Crow [5]

Grey Warden [6]

Lord of Fortune [7]

Mourn Watch [8]

Shadow Dragon [9]

Veil Jumper [10]

5 - Crow Varric: I watched you pick apart an entire Antaam patrol in Treviso. They outnumbered you twenty-to-one. Rook: They were overconfident. I took advantage. Varric: Which no one else did. Crows didn't appreciate the heat it brought down, but…

6 - Grey Warden Varric: I watched you lead a few misfit recruits and push back one of the biggest darkspawn hordes I've ever seen. Rook: Just needed to find the right strategy. Varric: And no other Warden found it. You stopped that horde. Had to drop a town hall on it, but…

7 - Lord of Fortune Varric: That scheming noble locked us up inside that tomb. Tightest corner I've ever been in. But you kept your cool. Fought off the guardians. Discovered an escape route… Rook: And triggered a cave-in. Varric: A big one. Rivaini leaders lined up to yell at you for that, but…

8 - Mourn Watch Varric: You stopped an entire undead rebellion with less than a dozen Mourn Watchers. Rook: Just needed a bolder approach than Watchers usually take. Varric: And no one else knew it. Only you figured it out. Ticked off a bunch of snooty Nevarrans, but…

9 - Shadow Dragon Varric: You risked your neck to bring down an entire slavery ring. Pretty much by yourself. Rook: I had help. Varric: Sure. I got winded about five minutes in. You did most of the work. Ticked off a bunch of Minrathous big shots, but…

10 - Veil Jumper Varric: That first ill-fated Arlathan expedition. Not the recent one. Demons just kept coming for us. Dozens. Hundreds. But you didn't give up. You found a path out of that forest. Led us from the darkest depths back to safety. Lost that magic map. Pissed off some historians, but..

11 - Scene continues.

Varric: You've got a knack, kid.

Rook: For what?

Varric: Finding a way through the wildest shit I've ever seen. With a plan that no one expects. On the best day of his life, Solas wouldn't see you coming, Rook. And don't worry. I'll still be here to talk if you need me.

12 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: About Harding/Neve being hurt… [13]

Investigate: About Solas and the ritual… [14]

Investigate: About D’Meta’s Crossing… [15]

Talk to you later. [16]

13 - Investigate: About Harding/Neve being hurt… Rook: When I took over at the ritual site, I had to make a call on who came with me to knock over that statue. It was the first decision I made leading this team, and Harding/Neve got hurt because of it. Varric: You made a decision with the best information you had. Sometimes you do that, and people end up hurt. Or worse. Rook: What would you have done? Varric: What would I have done? Probably gotten myself killed and failed to stop the ritual if you hadn't stepped in. A good leader isn't someone who never makes mistakes: It's someone who admits when they make one. That's how you earn their trust. [Back to 12]

14 - Investigate: About Solas and the ritual… Rook: Did Neve tell you about me talking to Solas in the Fade? Varric: I had some good arguments with Chuckles back in the day. I can't imagine being stuck with him in my head. But how are you feeling about it?

Dialogue options:

We need his help. [17]

He’s an asshole. [18]

I’m worried. [19]

17 - We need his help. Rook: It doesn't matter how I feel about it. We can't stop the gods without what he knows. Varric: And there you go. You don't have to love him to deal with him. 18 - He’s an asshole. Rook: Your old friend is kind of an asshole, Varric. Varric: (Laughs) I'd love to be a fly on the wall while the two of you get into it. Solas fought a rebellion against Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. He didn't want to be a god. But he's also a lot older and more powerful than any of us. He looks at us like we're toddlers. Rook: So how do I deal with him? Varric: Act like you're as smart as he is, and he'll be insufferable. Show him you respect his age and experience, and he'll remind you he's just a man. Honestly, pick whichever of those pisses you off less. 19 - I’m worried. Rook: He's the god of lies, and he's inside my head, Varric. How do you think I feel about that? Varric: Fair enough. But Neve's a great mage. If you need her to whip up a ward to keep him out of your mind, she can. But you haven't asked her to. Why not? Rook: But you haven't asked her to. Why not? Varric: Solas is our best source of information about these elven gods. We can't stop them without what he knows. So you're making the decision to keep talking with him. Rook: I… yeah. Varric: You're making a choice. Stay careful, stay worried, but don't beat yourself up about doing what you have to do. 20 - Scene continues. Rook: He also asked me to tell you that he regrets what happened. Hurting you, I mean. Varric: Chuckles is sentimental. He could burn the world down, and the thing that would make him cry is a single flower with blackened petals. [Back to 12]

15 - Investigate: About D’Meta’s Crossing… Rook: There is something… D'Meta's Crossing was awful. While we were there, we found one survivor—the mayor.

Freed the mayor Varric: You took him back to the Veil Jumpers.

Left the mayor Varric: You left him to fend for himself.

Sent the mayor to the Wardens Varric: You sent him to the Wardens, right?

Rook: Not everyone was happy about my decision… We're just starting out and I'm already losing their trust. Varric: The key to earning the team's trust isn't to only make decisions everyone agrees with. It's showing the team that they can tell you whatever's on their mind, even if they think you're full of crap, and know you'll listen.

16 - Talk to you later. Scene continues.

Rook: I'll let you get some rest.

Varric: You're gonna be fine, Rook. Hey, one last thing before you go. I've been racking my brain thinking of contacts who might help us with these gods.

Rook: You got any ideas?

Varric: Nothing. But being a leader isn't about having all the answers yourself: It's about knowing who does. Neve has connections to a whole world that Harding and I barely know. Might be worth talking to her.

Rook: Will do. Thanks, Varric.

Varric: Any time.

Next: Here for Leads

#dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #datv #dragon age veilguard #dragon age the veilguard transcripts #dragon age the veilguard dialogue #veilguard transcripts #dragon age dialogue #dragon age transcripts #veilguard dialogue #datv transcripts #dav dialogue #dav transcripts #datv dialogue #long post #datv spoilers #the enemy of my enemy #varric tethras

18 notes · View notes

gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 5 months ago

Note

Hi,

my Timelord keeps boasting about his superior physical and mental abilities and calls me an ape (How can one reciprocate? He never mentions one of his less sentient ancestors, it's as if he never evolved from anything) when I throw him rubber bands (it's only to either quell his grandiose monologues or wake him up when he's unconscious and locked in a prison cell, promise).

Anyhow, I know you guys live longer, think harder and jump higher than us humans, but there must be something we can do better, right? Something positive, that is. Something I could possibly use to humble my companion a little

kind regards

- humanon

Is there anything Humans do better than Gallifreyans?

Gallifreyans are superior in all conceivable physical and mental ways, but humans are superior in two ways:

👶 Procreation and Survival

Firstly, humanity's incredible ability to multiply and survive through countless adversities is, admittedly, impressive. While Gallifreyans boast superior intellect, resilience, and longevity, humans have an almost baffling knack for enduring and thriving against all odds. This adaptability, while crude, has allowed humankind to last across the ages.

🤦Humans Are Stupid

That's not actually an insult - it's a compliment. Because humans are so stupid in comparison to Gallifreyans, it means that they aren't yet bored by the Universe and its intricacies. Did you ever wonder why some Time Lords take a human companion? It's like getting your new friend to watch your favourite TV show with you when they've never seen it before. You want to see if they laugh and cry in the right places, and how they'll react to that amazing plot twist.

Could a human become a Time Lord?: Quick look at how a human could become a Time Lord.

How does artron energy exposure affect humans?: Dangers and benefits of artron exposure for humans.

Factoids: What happens when a human spends a lot of time with a Time Lord?

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

#doctor who #gil #gallifrey institute for learning #dr who #dw eu #gallifrey #gallifreyans #ask answered #whoniverse

27 notes · View notes

pennylanewrites · 2 years ago

Text

sur le fil [levi ackerman x f!reader]

chapter 1: la vie en rose

moving to paris, you get to meet a set of interesting neighbours; one talkative, bubbly, exciting and kind. one reserved, serious and tortured. the first will be your guide through life in paris; the latter, you soon find out is your colleague.

a/n: reader, hange, moblit and petra are 24-25 years old. erwin and levi are both 28 in this fic. erwin gets introduced soon so dw heheh

masterpost | next

packing up your whole life and moving to paris was sort of on a whim. you really only realized it when you were on the plane, and you could spot the eiffel tower, the arc de triomphe, the notre dame. oh, you were going to have so much fun.

it wasn't hard to find your new home -after taking a taxi and two buses from the airport. you had booked a room from an old lady living in a haussmannian building. three rooms were already occupied, and a kitchen, common room, library and terrace were included in the low price of 250€ per month. you assumed that the old lady simply wanted company; it wasn't easy to find something that cheap, right in the heart of paris.

"madame dubois, so nice to meet you!" you greeted the lady rushing out of the building with a handshake, but she opted for a hug and a kiss on each cheek instead. how european.

"call me paulette, darling, please." paulette was pushing 70, tall, slim and stylish. she held a slim cigarette between fingers decorated with gold rings; she wore a long linen shirt over matching pants and ballerina shoes. very french, you thought, as you followed her inside.

as you stepped inside, you were greeted by high ceilings, ornate moldings, and large windows that allow an abundance of natural light to fill the rooms. the kitchen, located at the heart of the house, had marble countertops, state-of-the-art appliances, and custom-made sage-coloured cabinets. you could tell you would have a lot of fun in this kitchen. as you left the room, you noticed a wide selection of teas, a whole countertop in fact, dedicated to them. adjacent to the kitchen was the common room, knick-knacks and books filling every surface and empty corner. The baby-blue coloured room was adorned with plush beige and off-white furniture, intricate chandeliers, and a majestic fireplace, creating a cozy and sophisticated atmosphere. the library, opposite to the living room, housed an extensive collection of books, with floor-to-ceiling shelves that exuded an air of intellectual refinement. a cozy reading nook by the window invited you to spend many afternoons with a cup of coffee and your nose in a book.

"your room is on the first floor, along with two more. then there’s mine and one more on the third, and of course the terrace, that you’re free to use whenever.” you were admiring the paintings on the walls as paulette guided you to the first floor and to the second door on the left. you wondered who the other two rooms were occupied from, but you guessed you would find out soon.

paulette unlocked the white door and handed you the key. you entered into a mainly beige and lavender-coloured room, small but efficient; the boxes you had packed were sitting in front of the bed, arriving just before you. a double bed with two nightstands stood in the middle, a large wooden dresser on the side, with intricate golden details. two wicker sitting chairs by the window and an empty desk and small bookcase. paulette was showing you the bathroom, but you were too busy admiring the notre dame from your dusty window. despite it being half-burnt, it remained beautiful.

“my room is on the top floor to the right. anything you want, i’m just a knock away.”

“thank you. you said something about other people leaving here?”

“oh, yes! moblit lives on the third floor, he’s a nice and quiet guy. zoe lives right across from you, she’s a little feisty, i guess.”

“and next door?”

you swore paulette’s face dropped when you asked.

“oh, that would be levi, my nephew. he’s a bit…reserved.” was all paulette said about your mysterious neighbour before leaving you to unpack.

you fell on the bouncy mattress and let out a content sigh. the ceiling above you had a cracked lavender and lilac tapestry with golden swirls. the walls matched it perfectly, and the curtains, though faded, were a beige to match the wood of the furniture.

why unpack now? the sun was setting and a deep purple hue played on your stretched legs. you grabbed your purse and headed for the terrace, but your journey was cut short by a loud screech.

“levi, give me my key!”

“i don’t have your key, you lost it, you idiot.” the manly voice came from next door, you noticed. you decided to step out carefully.

a tall woman turned to look at you through round glasses.

“bonsoir! we didn’t know you were coming tonight!”

“hi! zoe, right? i’m y/n.” you took a few steps back when the brunette attacked you with a warm, tight hug.

“pleasure! are you heading for the terrace? that’s the first thing i did when i came here too.”

“seems like a cozy place for a cigarette.”

“you read my mind.” she turned to your other neighbour’s door again. “levi, sors de ta chambre!” come out of your room, your high school french classes came to your rescue.

as you waited for the mysterious neighbour, you inspected zoe. her rich, chocolate-brown hair cascading down her shoulders, framed her face and round golden glasses. she wore a flowing, forest green and brown maxi dress with intricate patterns that catch the eye. completing her ensemble, she adorned herself with eclectic accessories. a collection of beaded bracelets adorned her wrists, each one telling a story of its own. around her neck hung two pendants, a round blue evil eye, and a wooden symbol of piece. her ears were filled with gold studs and the picture ended with pink delicate feather-shaped earrings, whispering a hint of whimsy.

“hange, i just came home. what could you possibly-”

“we have a new neighbour, levi. remember?” zoe motioned at you with her head and a smile, obviously not caring that she was interrupting the man’s personal time.

“okay?”

wow. rude.

“so, you should come to the terrace for a smoke. maintenant.” now.

you expected the man to slam the door in her face, but he stepped back in to grab his jacket, and came back out.

levi stood at average height, with sleek black hair reaching his nape, a fresh undercut showing underneath and a few strands shaping his face and accentuating his piercing gray eyes. he was wearing a fitted maroon t-shirt and dark gray jeans, the look finishing with all black vans and the black leather jacket in his hand. you noticed a tattoo hiding under the sleeve of his shirt. interesting.

“hi, i’m y/n. it's so nice to-”

“levi. pleasure.”

“for fuck’s sake.”

“what? i said pleasure.”

"okay,sure. go make us some tea. y/n, how do you drink yours?" you looked between the pair. why did it feel like they were about to judge whatever you said next?

"oh, i don't really like..." you trailed off because levi had only rolled his eyes at you before storming down the stairs, mumbling in french. you followed zoe to the top floor. a pair of white french doors opened to a spacious terrace, with a set of wicker couches, cozy floor pillows and a tarp-covered bar. all kinds of flowers filled the corners and a vegetable garden took up most of the space on the left.

"you'll have to forgive levi. he's a bit..."

"uptight?" zoe snorted at your comment, and you had a feeling she agreed.

"passionate about tea. he's going to bring you a cup anyway. levi has a recipe for every kind of person, and he's certain he can make everyone like it."

you took out a pack of marlboro golds and offered one to zoe. she politely declined, opening a leather pocket of tobacco to roll her own cigarette.

"so, what brings you to paris?"

i had to run away from everything and everyone in my life.

"oh, it was just time for a change. i had enough money saved up, so i thought why not?" zoe lied down on the couch opposite you and nodded in acknowledgement. "what about you? have you lived here long?"

"levi and i were born and raised in lyon. we moved here around seven years ago, for college."

"what did you study?"

architecture.

"the plan was liberal arts, but i changed to architecture my second year."

bingo.

"i never finished college. i was a history and archaeology major, but it never really...spoke to me, you know?" you put the cigarette out on the clay ashtray on the table, "so, i attended a few barista and bartending seminars, and i actually fell in love with it."

"you don't say...have you got a job yet? i'm pretty sure the café down the street is looking for someone." you could faintly see the shop zoe was talking about in the distance.

"oh, i already found something nearby. i'm starting tomorrow."

"thats brilliant, i'll have to-oh, levi, you're here!" levi stepped out to the terrace, skillfully holding up a tray with three cups. he placed an intricate one in front of you; it was a midnight purple, square mug with engraved golden stars and constellations all over. you held the steaming mug and smiled gratefully at levi. you could smell raspberry, apple and-

"tell her what it is!" zoe jumped up and down excitedly, spilling some of the hot liquid on her dress and phone. "putain." she exclaimed and wiped her phone screen on the couch pillow.

"it's black tea with raspberry syrup, apple, lemon and rhubarb."

"excellent choice of a cup too." zoe poked his side with her elbow. "what's mine, shortie?"

"it's piss." you snorted into your cup, blowing some of the liquid on your lap. you hissed and wiped it away quickly, looking up at the bickering pair.

you brought the cup to your lips, tasting it carefully. you almost winced; it was the sourest tea imaginable, and if not for the syrup, it would be bitter too. you had to admit, you got used to it after a couple of sips, and you liked it enough to keep drinking.

"did levi magically change your opinion on tea?"

"this is really nice," you looked up at levi. his gray eyes didn't leave yours as he took a sip of his own tea, "but i'm a coffee person. sorry." you smiled softly.

"if you like bean water, sure." he scoffed.

"as opposed to leaf water?" you retorted.

why the fuck is he holding the cup like that? show-off.

zoe looked between the two of you, grinning. the comfortable silence was cut short by two message notifications. you and levi took your phones out at the same time.

-you have been added to Le Café Belle Époque’s group chat

-unknown number has been added to Le Café Belle Époque’s group chat

you and levi slowly looked up at each other.

“you’re the new barista?” he scoffed.

“you…work there too?” you looked at the members of the group chat. indeed, a picture of levi sat by an unsaved number on your phone. zoe peeked over levi’s shoulder to look at his texts.

"aha! this is very exciting, n'est-ce pas?"

you had seven different words in mind to describe this, and exciting was not one of them.

waking up in your new bed, in your little room in the heart of paris, felt like waking up in a disney movie. birds were chirping outside of your window, and a few stray sunrays hit the wooden floor. with a stretch of your arms and a yawn, you looked around at the sea of boxes and suitcases. you really needed to unpack.

after searching for your summer clothes, you finally opted for a pair of white jean shorts, a flowy muted-olive shirt with thin straps and your favorite brown sandals, that strapped around your feet and ankles. you brushed your teeth and hair, and placed mascara on your eyelashes carefully. a warm-toned lipstick finished your look, and you started your voyage to the kitchen with a box in your hands.

damn you paris, with your steep staircases, you tried looking over the box to watch your step, but it was impossible.

"woah, let me help with that." you were met with a pair of dark brown eyes behind rectange glasses.

"thanks." you accepted the offer and walked behind the strange man.

"where are we heading?"

"kitchen."

the man finally set the box down on the round kitchen table, slapping the top of it.

"moblit berner. it's nice to meet you, y/n."

"how did you...?" you shook his hand with furrowed brows. moblit was wearing a well-pressed, tailored navy blue suit, a light blue dress shirt underneath and leather oxfords.

"zoe told me all about you last night. i apologize for the late introduction, but i came home after midnight." he watched as you took a polished red, vintage looking espresso machine out, placing it on the counter right by the outlet. "retro. does, uh, does levi know about the new addition to the kitchen?" moblit laughed awkwardly. you unrolled the cups you had wrapped in paper in your box and gave them a quick rinse, before setting them on top of the machine.

"i couldn't care less. paulette told me i can keep this here." you shrugged and filled the water tank. "want some coffee?"

"yes, please. the only drinks in this house all these years have been tea and alcohol." you pressed ground-up espresso in the group, and waited for the machine to warm up.

"what kind of coffee?"

"surprise me. i like it sweet, with a lot of milk. there's some almond milk in the fridge, so please use that." moblit sat down and lit a cigarette. you inspected levi's selection of syrups, powders and leaves.

"you don't think he'll mind, do you?" you held up a bottle of lavender syrup.

"it will be our little secret. better safe than sorry." you nodded and poured the syrup in the milk, frothing it while the espresso poured into a cup.

"so, where do you work, moblit?"

"i'm a reporter for libération, a news-"

"left-leaning newspaper, i know. i loved that piece on macron, the one comparing the marches to the french revolution?" you placed the cup in front of moblit, who accepted with a grateful smile.

"i wrote that one."

"of course! i thought your name sounded familiar." you chuckled and turned to make your own iced coffee.

"will we be seeing you at the café tonight?"

“i don’t know if i’m working a full shift yet. i’m only going to meet the managers and get an idea of the bar.”

“well, you’ve met one of them already.”

“levi’s a manager?” you rolled your eyes and sipped on your coffee.

“assistant. but he basically runs the place, he’s in charge of the menu, prices, schedule…” moblit grinned. “except for the new hires.”

“guess that’s why he was so surprised yesterday.”

“surprised is an understatement.”

“huh? wait, what did he say?” your eyebrow perked up. moblit just shook his head and got up to leave.

“thanks for the coffee, y/n. see you tonight!” defeated, you sat back on your chair. you slid it closer to the window and opened it wide. a warm breeze hit your face, and you smiled contently.

the rest of your day was spent unpacking, finding a space for every one of your knick-knacks and clutter. you managed to fit all of your books on the three shelves, finishing the image with some fairy lights hanging over them. most of your clothes fit in the dresser, but the rest were left in the suitcase. you really needed to buy some storage boxes soon.

it was now 2:30 in the afternoon, and after taking a warm shower, you desperately needed to eat. you sat on your bed, a towel wrapped around your hair, and pulled your phone out to search for a place to eat.

knock knock.

“come in.” you yelled out and looked behind your phone. zoe came in, looking around your room. she looked different; a tight bun sat at the bottom of her head and a classy white pantsuit hugged her body, before flaring down her calves.

“wow, nicely done. it took me two years to unpack when i got here…hey, what time do you leave for work?”

“i have to be there at six.”

“great! want to grab a bite with me? i’ll even throw in a little tour of our neighbourhood if you make me some coffee later.”

“deal.”

zoe brought you to a small, family owned restaurant cornering a main street. you watched as people walked, playing a guessing game of who was coming back from work, who was late for lunch, who had just had a fight with their partner. people-watching was a favourite of yours. it made you remember you weren’t alone in the world, that other people too had issues and feelings.

“do you eat meat, y/n? they make killer steaks here.”

“oh, i love a good steak.”

“excellent! how about i order for you?”

“yes, please.”

the waiter came to the table soon after, leaving a complimentary basket of warm bread and a butter spread.

“we’ll have two of your bavette à l’échalote, a portion of fries for the table and…two glasses of malbec please.” zoe handed the menu to the waiter and quickly attacked the bread.

“this is my favourite restaurant. it has been in the renard family for almost a century, and their recipes are practically unchanged. now, if you kindly look up, you will see my office on the top floor. i have a kicking view of the notre dame, which is…five minutes from here.” she pointed down the main road. you listened as she explained the secrets of the neighbourhood, the quirky owner of the office building, the drama between the two restaurants opposite each other.

you were so hungry when the dishes finally arrived in front of you, but you let hange do a demonstration of the dish.

“so, skirt steak. they cut it up in pieces so you can pour the sauce between them,” she spooned the golden, buttery sauce over your steak, “and i like to add it to the roasted vegetables too.” she poured the rest of it over the vegetables on the side. “and the rest you use to dip your fries!” she said excitedly, leaving the dip bowl next to the warm salted fries.

“bon appétit.” you raised the glass of red wine, clinking it with zoe’s.

after the delightful lunch, you leaned back on your chair, full and ready to go. you and zoe smoked two cigarettes each over one more glass of wine, before leaving for the café.

“are you nervous?”

“not really, i’ve done this too many times.”

“i would be. levi hates training new people.”

“good thing i don’t need training then.” you giggled and entered the café. a warm smell of cinnamon hit you, and the jazz music created a warm atmosphere around vintage furniture, a sleek dark blue bar with a marble top and the alcohol selection of your dreams.

“you’re late.” levi appeared behind the counter, startling you. you checked the clock on your phone.

“i’m 15 minutes early.”

“that’s still 5 minutes late.” he crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at you. “are you coming in here or what?”

you sighed and walked around the counter. the first thing you did was wash your hands thoroughly. levi appreciated that, but only gave a nod of approval as he walked you through the bar.

“you will be on evening shift for the time being, so here’s the old drinks menu. you’re free to change everything, except for the classic cocktails.”

“great! the last bar i was working, i experimented with tea-based cocktails, so i would like to add that. am i okay to stay after closing and use the bar for practice?”

“tea-based!” zoe exclaimed. you had almost forgotten she was there.

“tea-based.” levi repeated and you had a feeling he would explode then and there.

“ha! his eye is twitching! good one, y/n.”

“anyway, i’m adding that. i also want to make some additions to the coffee menu.” you looked over to the tea corner. “can i use the powders and syrups?”

“you’re going to add flowers and fruit in coffee?”

“is there a problem?” you didn’t even turn around to look at levi. instead, you took a pen and paper and noted down changes for the coffee menu.

“anyway. you can check the prices here, since it’s still the start. the waitresses will help you with anything else, so…”

“so?”

“show me what you got, rookie.” levi leaned back on the counter, with a challenging grin. rookie my ass, who does this guy think he is?

“ooh, ooh! make me an iced coffee, and use like, all the syrups you can.” zoe slammed her hand on the counter.

“you got it.” you prepared two shots of espresso. while that was pouring, you took a shaker, pouring coconut milk, a tablespoon of elderflower syrup and one of vanilla syrup over ice. you shook it around masterfully, making a show for zoe and levi. when the espresso was done, you mixed in a teaspoon of sugar. taking a tall glass, you filled it to the middle with ice and added the milk mixture. you poured the espresso over it, mixing it with a tall spoon carefully.

“whipped cream?” you asked and levi pointed at the fridge under the sink. you spotted a bowl of edible flowers and grabbed it as well. you placed a coaster in front of hange and the glass, spooning some of the handmade cream on top. you took the pinching tool and added three small flowers over the cream.

“et voilà!”

zoe clapped excitedly, accepting the long straw you handed her. she took a big sip, closing her eyes in delight.

“y/n, this is the best thing that has ever been in my mouth.” she wiggled around on the stool.

“i feel offended.” moblit appeared out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around zoe and leaving a kiss on her temple.

huh, i guess they’re dating, you thought.

the café wasn’t really busy, so you spent the next hour making different coffees and teas, for levi to ensure you know what you’re doing. zoe had insisted to drink all of them, so you wouldn’t have to throw them away.

“hange, you’ll spend a week in the toilet if you drink all of those.” levi tried taking the cups away, but zoe guarded them in front of her.

“the toilet happens to be my happy place. maybe i want to stay there for a week.” she made sure to drink a sip from all of them, just to spite levi.

“if you cleaned once in a while, it would be a safe place too.” you chuckled at levi’s remark.

a wave of customers rushed in, and the waiters sent order after order. it was a hectic hour and a half, but by nine o’clock, you had time to clean up the machine and your counter.

“okay, welcome to the team, i guess.” levi shoved a golden name tag and a black half-apron in your arms.

“wow, warm welcome.”

“watch it.” levi grabbed his stuff and walked around the bar. he turned to zoe. “i have to pick petra up from work, do you guys want to do something later?”

“just come back here! we can all try the new cocktail menu.” hange pushed him to the door before he could decline and came back to the bar.

“can i take these away now?” you pointed at the sea of cups and glasses in front of her.

“please do. i feel like i’m going to explode.”

“you really like to get on his nerves, don’t you?” you laughed as she nodded furiously.

“zoe has to make levi have a nervous breakdown at least once a week.” moblit commented. after everything was cleaned, you could finally calm down and work on the cocktail menu. you spotted a small blackboard sitting behind the fridge. you grabbed it and the packet of chalks and handed it to moblit.

“you look like you have nice handwriting. please write these names down for me.”

“what’s in it for me?”

“pick one and i’ll make it for you. on the house.” you grinned as moblit wrote the menu down. zoe made sure to include a few doodles of flowers and a smiley face before setting it on top of the bar, where everyone could spot it.

it was midnight when you had to cut zoe off alcohol and levi walked in, hand in hand with a petite brunette. the girl had a sleek bob with short bangs, and wore a silk pink dress that hugged her waist and thighs. an oversized brown leather jacket, a pink leather crossbody bag and brown combat boots finished the look. her makeup was the perfect mix of edgy and sweet, with a smoky eye, red cheeks and a nude lipstick. the girl greeted zoe with a hug, wincing when the strong smell of gin hit her.

“control your woman, moblit.” she joked and kissed both his cheeks before sitting down. levi took her jacket along with his and handed them to you to place behind the counter. “so, you’re y/n. a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. i’m petra.”

“pleasure.” you smiled as you served two drinks on the sidebar.

“see, she looks just fine.” levi rolled his eyes at the girl. “levi was under the impression that you would crack under the pressure and run off.”

“levi should know that i have been doing this for four years. i’m not that easy to crack.” you placed two coasters and two glasses of water in front of them.

“what are you having?”

“i want…to try one of those famous cocktails.” she pointed at the blackboard.

“famous?” you furrowed your brows.

“oh, levi talked my ear off for hours about them. you’ll have to forgive him. his old age won’t let him accept change and evolution.” she kissed his cheek after the comment, but he only sighed. “anyway, i’ll have the earl grey martini. amour?” she turned to levi, who barely looked at her.

“whiskey sour.”

“one chamomile whiskey sour coming up!”

“i said, whiskey sour.” zoe, moblit and petra were stuck looking between the two of you. you guessed levi wasn’t known for his temper. but, oh, you wanted to crack him so bad. it was so satisfying seeing his neck and ears turn red with annoyance.

“i heard you.” you hummed as you made the brunette’s cocktail in a dainty martini glass.

“so, make that.”

“but i already steeped the chamomile. it would be a waste of perfect tea.” you pouted as you poured the tea over ice. you flipped a short glass over and placed it on the bartop. a strainer on top, you poured the contents in, sliding it to the ravenette.

“just try it, cheri.”

levi brought the glass to his lips in the same stupid way he held onto that cup of tea yesterday. his gray piercing eyes never left yours, and you grinned when his expression fell. he liked it. the fucker liked it, because he took another, full sip, before sliding the glass back to you.

"i asked for a whiskey sour.” this was revenge because you didn’t like his stupid tea. you mumbled something he couldn’t hear over the music, as you made a new cocktail for him.

despite levi's eyes burning holes in you for what felt like hours, the night was going well. you got to know petra and moblit better, work was flowing nicely and a full jar of tips sat on the counter. guess people liked the new, not grumpy, bartender.

taglist: @belovedackerman @bibemiiu @thisisketchy @ch-4-s-3 @kingfleury

178 notes · View notes

urnumber1star · 7 months ago

Text

Alright, updated masterpost!

Hi! I'm Star! I currently have one main WIP that I will be talking about on here called Bolt Runners! (Name pending) if you like to hear someone yap about writing and her book then you are in the right place!

🟊

Synopsis: Bolt Runners follows a sixteen year old boy named Micheal who, after getting into an accident at his fathers workplace, is granted the power to control and travel through electricity. He decides to try to protect the corrupt city he lives in and maybe even change it for the better with the help of his two friends. But he soon realizes being a public hero is not as fun as he thought it would be. As being nearly killed every day and attacked by people such as, a creepy dude who can puppeteer people's bodies, a girl with a knack for tech and robbing banks, and a corrupt politician. But it cant be all bad right?

🟊

Genre: Sci Fi, Dystopian, Superhero,

🟊

Tags: Bolt Runners, BRS

I mainly write Sci Fi and high fantasy, but I dabble in historical fiction and dystopian to!

🟊

Other interests include: Epic, TMNT, Arcane, any type of art, animation, Scott Pilgrim, and superhero shows/comics :]

🟊

Here is a list of characters and their profiles from Bolt Runners!/BRS (I don't have any profiles yet but I'm working on it)

Micheal Anson

Ray Krii

Talia Krii

Bianca Norman

Dr. Luis Galo

Serita Hart

Ford Dawer

No One

Issac Anson

🟊 Anyways feel free to drop in and say hi! (I love yapping) I'm also one hundred percent open to constructive criticism and questions!

BRS tag list! @wyked-ao3 @illarian-rambling @nine-enjoys-human-sacrifices @leahnardo-da-veggie Let me know if you want to be added/removed (+/-)

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writing community #creative writing #writerscommunity #Bolt Runners #BRS

32 notes · View notes

veronicaphoenix · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: nightmares, implied ptsd, angst, fluff, comfort, Noah being the perfect boyfriend best friend | Word count: 2.1k | Cross posted on AO3 | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised.

"Sometimes, it amazed me how easy it was to make her happy, how simple life had to be to get her to genuinely smile."

Lia’s hands were dirty with wet soil.

The day before, at the grocery store, she had picked up gloves and a few gardening tools. Today, she was planting the seeds she had picked up and that she had added to the pile of items I had to carry in my arms. When I had complained again, Lia had just shrugged her shoulders and pointed out that I had long arms, so I’d have to deal with it. I just rolled my eyes.

That early morning, she did wear the gloves when she started working in the back garden of the house, but soon abandoned them because she said they dulled her sense of touch, preventing her from feeling the soil, the plants, or the petals of the flowers.

I stayed close by, engaged in a conversation with her for a while. I was curious about her gardening choices, observing her focused efforts as she worked in different areas of the garden. It was refreshing to see her absorbed in the task, providing a temporary respite from the worries that plagued her day and night, especially at night.

After pouring us each a glass of orange juice and having a little argument with Lia because she asked me to bring her a beer can instead, I settled into one of the hammocks on the porch, sunglasses and headphones on.

As usual, time seemed to slip away whenever I lay there, under the sun. I was granted a rare moment of peace for the first time in weeks.

Lia continued her gardening nearby, moving from one end of the garden to the other with dedication. Despite my music, I caught snippers of her conversation with the flowers, which brought a smile to my face. It was such a tranquil morning, marred only by the lingering shadow of Lia’s past with Mitch.

When a sudden black cloud obscured the sun, I removed my sunglasses and headphones, standing up to assess the changing weather.

Lia sat cross-legged in the center of the garden, crafting a flower crown, triggering memories of that day in her mother’s house, when I was fifteen and she was fourteen. I recalled that day, when we were just teenagers and I had had to explain to her why I had decided to drop out of school. With her sad eyes looking straight into mine, I suggested she could move in with me and Mike when she turned eighteen. I had stayed the night with her, and we had woken up together. A slight blush kept up my cheeks as I remembered what had transpired that morning between us.

Trying to shake off the memory, I called out to her.

“Hey, princess.”

Lia’s head snapped up, a smile playing on her lips as she seemed to be recalling the same memory, the moment I placed the daisy crown on her head more than a decade ago.

“How does it look?” she inquired, motioning towards the flowers she had planted in clusters around the garden.

“I might just hire you as my private gardener,” I quipped, though the garden truly seemed rejuvenated, as if life had just brought by a sudden miracle.

I found it ironic how Lia, navigating through her own struggles, had this knack for bringing life and light to her surroundings, including me.

“I must tell you, my services are quite expensive,” she teased, rising and brushing soil from her knees.

“I’d pay with my soul,” I replied, eliciting a tender smile from her. The sunlight illuminated her face, lending her a healthier glow as the bruises on her skin seemed to be fading. I hoped her heart would heal as her body did.

When it came to my split lip, it still hurt, but it was also getting better.

“I’m serious. It looks amazing,” I told her, surveying her handiwork. “How’s the crown coming along?” I asked, nodding towards the floral creation in her hands.

“Hmm,” Lia’s smile flattered momentarily as she focused on the string of flowers. “I’ve lost practice,” she admitted. I could feel the sadness in her voice.

“Need a hand?” I offered.

Lia raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You’re not exactly skilled at making flower crowns, Noah.”

Raising my hands, feigning offense, I replied, “All right, Flower Queen. I was just trying to be helpful.”

“I wasn’t teasing you,” she clarified. “It’s just a fact.”

“I know…” It was true. I had no freaking clue as to how to make a flower crown, not even after so many years of having a flower enthusiast as my best friend. “So, what’s on the agenda today? What do you feel like doing? Do you want to go to the Botanical Gardens?” I suggested. “We could spend some time walking around, grab a hot chocolate from the café, and maybe pick up a few more plants.”

“Aren’t you tired of flowers?” Lia questioned, probably concerned about me.

“Who could ever tire of flowers?” I exclaimed, swinging my leg over the hammock to stand. I collected our drinks, ready to return them to the kitchen. “Flowers are fucking pretty. I could never get enough, even if I’m hopeless at making crowns.”

“You’re just saying that to keep me happy,” Lia countered. She couldn’t hide the tiny smile peeking from her lips, though.

“I’d say anything to keep you happy, but no, I actually mean those words. Flowers rock. Now go take a quick shower, and let’s go to the Botanical Gardens. I’ll see if Jesse wants to join us.”

The botanical garden adventure turned out to be a more delightful experience than I expected. A new section had recently opened, and Lia’s excitement bubbled over as we explored it thoroughly. She was so fascinated by the new multitude of plants that she left Jesse and me trailing behind her, lost in our chatter about work and music.

When she ventured further ahead, Jesse lowered his voice and asked me about her well-being. I hesitated before responding because the truth was that I wasn’t sure. At times she looked… okay. Other times, I would hear her or catch her crying. I had no clue if a pain like the one she carried could ever disappear; if a wound like that could ever be mended.

During our time there, I noticed Lia occasionally drifting into moments of distraction, her smile fading as troubling thoughts crept in. Sensing her vulnerability, I made a point to stay close, wrapping an arm around her shoulder whenever I sensed her faltering. Redirecting her attention, I guided her to the next exhibit, peppering her with random questions about the flora, to which she surprisingly had all the answers. Lia's depth of knowledge was captivating, and I wasn't the only one to notice. Jesse, too, was struck by Lia's genuine passion for nature and flowers. It was heartwarming to witness how she retained that childhood love amidst her life's challenges.

Standing outside the cafeteria, positioned on the elevated area overseeing the gardens, I waited for Jesse to return from the restrooms and for Lia to pick up her hot chocolate from the counter inside the café. As I glanced at the sky, latte in hand, I felt grateful for the brightness of the day. Suddenly, Lia’s arms wrapped around me from behind, squeezing me tightly as her head nestled against my back. Some coffee spilled from my cup, and a bit of chocolate dripped from the one she held in her left hand.

“Lia, Christ,” I exclaimed, turning around to face her, taken aback by the sudden unexpected affection. With a sheepish grin, she released her hold, cheeks flushed.

“Sorry, that was… awkward,” Lia mumbled, her apology hanging in the air.

“No, not at all,” I reassured her, reaching out to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It was rather lovely,” I added, a warm smile gracing my lips. “You feeling alright?”

Her response came accompanied by a slight shake of the hot chocolate cup in her hand. “Now I am, yes,” Lia replied, her smile returning.

Sometimes, it amazed me how easy it was to make her happy, how simple life had to be to get her to genuinely smile.

Before long, Jesse joined us, his hand ruffling through his hair as he adjusted his glasses. “You’re all set?” he asked, casting a glance at the drinks we held.

“Yep,” we replied in unison.

“Great. My mom’s birthday is coming up. I thought I’d browse the shop for some plants before we leave,” Jesse announced. “Maybe Lia can give me some advice?”

“Sure,” she agreed readily.

“She’ll do that gladly,” I mumbled. “She’s going to give herself some advice, too.”

“And pick out a few more plants for the garden,” she added, a playful grin dancing on her face as she strolled alongside us.

Sure enough, Lia ended up selecting a couple of pots of pelargonium, gardenias, and some bamboo sticks, envisioning how they would complement the minimalist aesthetic of my room. As Lia and Jesse explored the shop, leaving me behind to wonder why the fuck some plants were so weird, they discussed which flowers would be best suited for Jesse's mom. Lia shared her expertise on which blooms would last longest indoors and explained the symbolic meanings behind each flower and color. Jesse listened attentively, deciding. He finally selected a thoughtful assortment of white and orange plants that he hoped his mom would like.

Later that day, back in the comfort of the house, the three of us settled in to tackle some work. Jesse attended to his band obligations, handling a few phone calls and online meetings while Lia and I retreated to the studio.

The gentle sound of pencils scratching on paper and crayons on textured surfaces served as a comforting backdrop to the tunes I was playing on one of my guitars. Having Lia nearby, even in her quiet presence, felt good; I definitely preferred her close where I could sense her mood rather than distant and out of reach. I didn’t want to find her locked in the bathroom crying her eyes out and feeling guilty for what had happened to her.

It hadn’t been her fault, and while I didn’t mind reminding her of that as many times as necessary, I didn’t want her to dwell on those thoughts alone. I believed it was healthier for her to externalize her feelings and emotions through lyrics or drawings.

Midafternoon, I took a brief break to make coffee and grab a snack, taking the time to check the messages on my phone —a few from Jolly, another bunch from other friends and work— and give Matt a call.

Lia joined me in the kitchen just as I was in the midst of the conversation, gesturing for me to pass her the phone when I was finished. In the meantime, she retrieved a beer from the fridge.

When she spoke with Matt —and I entertained myself chewing on chocolate-chip cookies—, her tone seemed overly cheerful, which was odd. Somehow, she decided it would be a good idea for all of us to meet on Saturday night, grab some pizzas, and spend some time together as we used to do. With Jolly’s return scheduled for Friday, Lia asked for my approval. I could only shrug and reply with a casual “yeah”. If it meant she could relax and enjoy the company of our friends, then I was fully supportive.

As the day melted into evening, the house overflowed with tranquility. The strumming of the guitar filled the air, punctuated by the occasional recording breaks to capture snippets of sound for an on-going musical project. Meanwhile, Lia was deeply engrossed in her creative zone, sitting on the sofa facing the desk where I was sat at. She was working with a pen and a worn-out notebook in hand, sketching designs and penning songs’ lyrics with a focus that made her bit her lip. Every once in a while she would lift her head and make a comment about the sounds coming out from the speakers, complimenting the music I was creating. There was something so undeniably comforting about being in this creative bubble together, just doing our thing and enjoying each other’s company.

We vibed off each other’s energy effortlessly. It was like we were in sync, riding the same wavelength of inspiration. It felt like home.

At quarter to seven, Lia rose from the sofa, stretching her arms and humming, and placed a few sheets of paper on the desk beside the keyboard.

“There. Take a look. They’re not my best work, but I think they might work for a t-shirt design," she casually said, enthusiasm lacking her tone.

The sheets were filled with new drawings —roses, daggers, demons—, potential additions to our merchandise lineup.

Before I could respond, she left the studio, mentioning something about grabbing another beer and preparing dinner.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #noah sebastian x ofc #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic

37 notes · View notes