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estrellami-1 · 2 years ago

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Forgotten Valentine’s

Robin walks into the break room, where Steve’s trying to get through an article in a magazine he picked up because even on break he’s bored. “Steve? Eddie came to drop this off for you.”

Steve perks up. “Eddie’s here?”

Robin snorts. “No, he popped in for literally like eight seconds, threw this at me with instructions to give it to you, and ran out again.”

Steve grins. “Did he run into the door?”

Robin grins back. “And cursed at it on his way out.”

Steve sighs happily as he takes the note.

Stevie,

Wear something nice tomorrow, big boy. I’m picking you up at 11am sharp.

Robin judges him with her eyebrows. “You two are the bane of my existence.”

“Uh-huh. And Nancy?”

“An angel and the light of my life and can do no wrong, shut up, Steve.” She sighs happily, the exact sound Steve had made less than a minute earlier.

He decides not to point it out.

———————

He does, actually, wear something nice the next day. Eddie does pick him up at 11am, Springsteen playing on the radio, which makes Steve grin at Eddie and lean in for a quick kiss.

“Okay, yes, I love you too, but I’ve got plans, sweetheart, and those plans do not involve getting sidetracked by those lips of yours. Which should be legally classified as a weapon, ‘cause damn, baby.”

Steve just laughs, so in love. “You’re so weird.” He means I love you, and they both know it, so Eddie just shoots him a toothy grin in response.

He takes Steve to a wildflower field. “I considered just getting you flowers, but then I figured this would mean even more, right? So. Tell me what you want. Or pick them yourself, even.” He grins and stretches to grab actual gardening shears and twine from the backseat.

“I’m in love with you,” Steve informs him. Eddie does the thing with his eyebrows where his expression gets all melty.

“I’m in love with you, too,” he says softly, then grins again and shoves the shears into Steve’s hands. “Start pickin’, sweetheart.”

Steve laughs, grabs the shears, and runs out of the car.

After they’ve collected almost a full bouquet—and run for their lives from a bee from an ill-picked flower—they tumble back into the car, love-drunk and giggly, before Eddie manages to collect himself.

“Okay, wow, I’m starting to think buying the flowers would’ve been worth it,” he teases, and Steve just laughs at him. “Anyways. Um. How does a movie sound? I know it’s not necessarily super romantic or whatever but I feel like we could use some down time.”

“Sure,” Steve laughs. “Your place or mine?”

“Mine work for you?”

“Always,” Steve promises, and Eddie’s eyebrows do the thing again, so he reaches to grab Eddie’s right hand and run his thumb over the knuckles.

They head back to the trailer, find a vase for the flowers, and cuddle in closer than absolutely necessary for the movie.

Eddie sneaks away halfway through, citing bathroom. Steve catches on the first time he drops something in the kitchen, but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even move, just keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the TV.

Dinner is delicious, and romantic as hell, because Eddie somehow found candles somewhere, and they don’t match but that isn’t the point, not when he’s looking at Steve with his heart in his eyes and on his sleeve.

They have spaghetti, and Eddie references that one scene from The Lady and the Tramp, and now Steve’s got his heart in his eyes, and on his sleeve, and they laugh like kids as they try—and fail miserably—to recreate the scene.

It ends with spaghetti sauce splattered on their faces and shirts and the table and somehow the wall. Steve immediately blames Eddie. Eddie just kisses him, which works really well to shut him up.

“Not that I don’t love all this,” Steve starts, surveying the table with a grin, “but is there an occasion or is this just ‘cause? Because this feels like an occasion type of thing.”

An expression flickers across Eddie’s face, there and gone before Steve has time to study it, to figure out what it means. “Just ‘cause, sweetheart, what, I can’t dote on my boy every now and again?”

Steve laughs, pulling him in by the neck to place a sweet kiss to Eddie’s lips. “I’ll never say no to that.”

———————

“Oh my god, Steve,” Robin says the next day. “You’re not gonna believe what Nancy did for me yesterday.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, slightly surprised that they’d both gone on dates, then immediately thinks weirder has happened and puts it out of his mind. “Tell me.”

“Okay, so I get home and there’s a note, and oh my god why are she and Eddie the same, or maybe we’re the same, which we are, but anyways. There’s just a place and time. So I get ready, because I might not know what she’s planning but I know she’s planning something, and I drive over, and it’s the Quarry, and she made me an entire fucking picnic.” She stares at him, wide-eyed, palms flat on the counter as she leans forward. “So we eat, and she has flowers, of course, it’s Valentine’s, and she was so fucking sweet, and then-”

Steve feels like an entire bucket of ice water has been poured on his head. “Wait,” he says, and oh, God, how could he forget, and that’s what the face was about yesterday- “Robs, oh my God, I’m the worst boyfriend in the history of the world, fuck.” He grips his hair with both hands, feels hot tears pricking in his eyes. Shuts them and hisses out again, “fuck.”

“Whoa,” Robin says, “okay, that’s… quite the generalization, bud, and also if it has to do with Eddie, he’s, like, ass over tits for you, I seriously doubt you could fuck up that bad-”

“I forgot,” he whispers, and she shuts up. “I forgot yesterday was Valentine’s. I- fuck, Robs, I gotta go, I gotta-”

“Steve,” Robin says, stopping his spiraling with two firm hands on his shoulders. “Calm down, or I’m stealing your keys. You can’t drive like this. Take a breath. Eddie’s not gonna hate you, okay?”

Steve takes a breath. Another. “But I forgot-”

“I know. And I’m willing to bet Eddie knows. Did he act at all different yesterday?”

“No… no, I mean, he made a face when I asked what everything was for, but then it was gone so quickly I thought I imagined it, and Robs, holy fuck, I don’t deserve him.”

Robin chuckles. “I think you two dinguses exactly deserve each other, actually. Take a breath and go talk to him. If Keith asks I’ll make something up, you know I’m good at that. Clock out, actually, don’t come back, I’ll tell him food poisoning or something. Take your boy on a date, Steve.”

“Okay,” he breathes, then nods. “Okay. I will. Thanks, Robbie.” He presses a kiss to her forehead and runs out.

———————

“You fucker,” Steve says loudly as soon as he’s in the trailer, accusing finger pointing at Eddie, who raises his hands like a kid with a cookie jar and crumbs on their face.

“I don’t know what I did, but I apologize.”

“No, shut up, you don’t get to do that, you don’t get to plan a Valentine’s date for me and then not tell me! Fuck! Eds, I’m so sorry.” He deflates, hand coming down and shoulders slumping. “I wish I could tell you I had something planned, but I didn’t. And I know there’s ways for me to remember, there’s calendars and sticky notes and shit, and I didn’t do any of that and I have no one to blame but myself and I’m sorry.”

Eddie stands, walking over to Steve to pull him into a hug. “Darling, I need you to listen to me on this, okay?” He asks seriously, pushing Steve’s head back to drop a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t care.” He waits until Steve’s brow begins to furrow before continuing. “I don’t care that you forgot. I don’t care that there might be ways to help you remember. I like you for you, not for whatever mask you wore in high school, even if I did have an embarrassing crush on you back then. Point is I’m here for you now, and the you that I’m in love with sometimes forgets some things. Who cares? Not me. I’ll never care. Every day with you is an adventure, Stevie. All the big dramatic love confessions in those romance movies you like so much are basically wedding vows, I know you know this, and there’s a reason sickness and health are in there. Sickness is as low as a person can get. Once you’ve seen them sick, you’ve seen them hurt and upset. If you can love them then, you can love them. And I’ve seen you in sickness, sweets. There’s nothing you can do to make me love you any less. There’s nothing you can do to make me regret going all out for something that made you happy, even if the reason behind it has to shift.”

Steve blinks back tears. “I hate you.”

“Mhm. Love you too. Give me a kiss, sweetheart.”

He does, pressing in close, keeping it closed-mouth but pouring in all his devotion until Eddie feels like he’s drowning in it.

“Whoa,” he murmurs when they pull back, then grins at Steve, keeping him close. “What’d I tell you, about your lips, they’re dangerous, sweets.”

“Shuddup,” Steve says, and buries his face in Eddie’s chest. “I love you so much.” He pulls back suddenly. “Robin gave me the rest of the day off, because she’s the best platonic soulmate ever, and if you’re not busy, can I take you on a date?”

“Steve,” Eddie starts, and Steve will never get over the way that Eddie just says his name. He’s so whooped. “Is this to make up for yesterday?”

Steve shakes his head. Eddie gives him a look. Steve hesitantly nods.

Eddie sighs and rests their foreheads together. “You don’t need to do that, baby.” At one point they started swaying together, and now they’re dancing in the kitchen to no music, and Steve could cry with how in love he is.

“But… you did all that, and didn’t even mention it when I forgot, and Robin says we deserve each other but I kinda feel like you’re a better man than I will ever be-”

“Steve,” Eddie says again, punctuating it with a kiss. “I’m serious. I don’t need it. You don’t need it. C’mon, c’mere, we can have a date right here, there’s a pizza in the freezer and I have movies, c’mon, just come sit with me. This is date enough for me.”

“Eds, c’mon, it’s not just a date-”

“Says who?” Eddie asks. He’s grinning like he knows Steve doesn’t have an answer. He’s right, but still.

“Eddie. It’s Valentine’s.”

“Yup. I know you love it, sweetheart, but it kinda goes against the Munson Doctrine.”

“I thought you did away with that when you kissed me.”

“Pretty sure you kissed me,” Eddie says on reflex, like he does every time. “But my point still stands. It’s nothing but a ploy to make people buy overpriced shit to make themselves feel better about themselves and their love life or lack thereof. I refuse to participate.”

Steve pauses. Grins. “Today’s the fifteenth.”

“That’s correct.”

“Candy’s discounted right now.”

“Fuck,” Eddie whispers, then starts laughing. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s go buy me candy. But that’s it. Then we’re coming back and watching a movie, deal?”

Steve grins, bright and happy and in love, as he leans in for a kiss. “Deal.”

#stranger things #Steddie #Steddie Valentine’s #valentine’s day #steddie fic #steddie kiss #Steve has head trauma and Eddie understands #Robin isn’t paid enough for this #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #mentions of #nancy wheeler #ronance #but on the side #I don’t know what this is #but I hope y’all like it!#I felt that it was fitting I’d post it the day after #starambles

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hlficlibrary · 1 year ago

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✤ New Year's Eve Fics ✤

A series of posts with the top five fics of each category by kudos plus five more hidden gems from that category! Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find our other recs here.

- Top 5 H/L Fics -

1️⃣ You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey / @harryrainbows {E, 95k}

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

2️⃣ baby we could be enough (i'll make this feel like home) by orphan_account {M. 52k}

“Did you clean the table?” Harry asks Louis once Rose is done speaking, now occupied with trying to see if she can reach over and touch Harry’s hair from where she’s sat. At Louis’ nod, Harry frowns. “You didn’t have to do that. You’re my guests here, I could’ve dealt with it later.”

Louis just smiles easily, though, adjusting Rose on his lap so that she’s facing Harry better. She manages to tug on a loose wave of hair, and she makes a noise of triumph that both Louis and Harry smile at.

“I don’t mind,” Louis murmurs to Harry, even though he’s looking at Rose. “This one here seemed very excited to talk to you.”

And, okay. Harry can’t help but think of how domestic this feels, all of a sudden.

[harry is a photographer who's trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]

3️⃣ Can’t Hide It, You Might As Well Embrace It by supernope {E, 67k}

Together since they were teenagers, Harry and Louis are professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They may also secretly be married.

4️⃣ And Touch Me Like You Never by runaway_train / @runaway-train-works {E, 35k}

“Lets move back a bit yeah?” Harry clutches at his waist with a free hand and tugs him to move through the crowd until they are almost at the back of the group and settles them both beside the far wall. “There. That better?”

Louis looks up at him, as if he’s a tad dazed. “Uh, yeah, thanks. Can’t really see much from back here either though.”

Harry lifts a shoulder and grins at him, placing a hand on the wall behind Louis to pen him in. “We’ll just have to create our own fireworks then, won’t we?” He says it jokingly with a wink, and Louis laughs but he seems nervous. He must know that Harry is harmlessly flirting. Harry flirts with everyone after all, including Louis.

“Do you think this is a good idea Haz?” Louis asks quietly, almost too quietly in the clamour of the room, his head bowed as he scuffs his shoe on the carpet.

“Stop over thinking it Lou, it’s one kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Or The one where Harry and Louis agree to be each other's New Year's kiss and it ends up being a lot more than they bargained for.

5️⃣ six feet beneath the moon by @starseas {NR, 25k}

AU. takes place over one night. harry and louis meet at a going away party.

HIDDEN GEMS:

💎 like cranberries on a winter evening by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou {G, 57k}

Louis hates Christmas. With good reason, too. And no, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

When research for his next novel leads Louis to the website of a quirky little hotel in Northumberland, there is exactly one room available for the two weeks that Louis really wants to get away from his family.

Will the fairy lights, kind smiles, homemade pastries, and genuine friendships awaiting him in Harry Styles’ hotel be enough to cause Louis a change of heart?

💎 Never Walk Away (A Man Can Be Kind) by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove {T, 8k}

Louis and Harry have recently ended their three year relationship. But maybe a little holiday magic can bring them back together.

“I don’t know why you’re so nice to that louse,” Oli says as the taxi pulls away from the curb.Louis glances back through the window. Harry is still standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, watching them go. “He’s not a louse,” he says absently.“He hurt you.”“I hurt him,” Louis replies. “And he didn’t mean to. It was inevitable. It’s not his fault. It is what it is.”Oli is silent for a long moment. At last, he sighs. “Someday you’re going to have to stop being afraid.”

💎 Rapture by @allwaswell16 {E, 3k}

It was New Year's Eve in Victorian London, and a lonely vampire could no longer resist the stunning lamplighter he watched night after night.

Or, a vampire Harry fic because what says the holidays like Victorian vampires?

💎 so c'mon c'mon (and dance with me baby) by theweightofmywords / @lil0 {NR, 3k}

Determinedly, he rushes back to where the DJ’s loud music can drown out his loud and racing thoughts, where there is free champagne, and where there is a kind man, hopefully, still waiting for him.

His chest unfurls with relief as he spots Harry, now with a martini in hand. He is standing steadfastly at their cocktail table, and Louis feels an odd sort of kinship when he sees his new friend. Harry straightens up as he sees Louis approaching.

“Did you find-”

“Let’s dance,” Louis cuts him off. Thankfully, Harry doesn’t ask questions.

Louis and Harry meet at a corporate holiday party, drink copious amounts of champagne, dance like fools, steal rich people's food, and possibly, just maybe, fall in love.

💎 Know What You Need by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense {E, 3k}

Harry always thinks he knows what he needs, but Louis knows better.

#ficrec #newyearseve #hlcreators #hljournal #trackinghappily #1dficvillage #nonsensedarling #theweightofmywords #allwaswell16 #livelaughlovelarry #supernope #4ureyesonly28 #starseas #runawaytrain #lucythegoosey

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buglass · 1 day ago

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Lonely Man - Chapter 3

Summary: Jackie tries her best to move on with her life after meeting Elvis in the Bahamas. Elvis Presley is not an easy man to forget. When Elvis calls and invites Jackie out to his first show at the brand-new International Hotel, she debates whether to take him up on his offer. Pairing: Elvis Presley x Jackie!Black!OFC WC: 5.6K+ Chapters: 3/3 Warnings: Age gap, cheating, smut, cussing. A/N: Thank y’all for reading what was originally a little blurb. I decided just to leave this chapter as the last one (not including other future one-shots with them) since I’m not driven to write it but I’ve enjoyed these two sharing some softness between them during their Holiday Blues.

Pics of E from Jan. 1970.

The end of the night left Jackie riddled with more questions than answers. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the softness of Elvis’ lips on hers or the sweet grin on his face as he stared at her. Writing down her address and phone number at that moment, Jackie felt hopeful until she left the hotel room early in the morning. All they did was talk and kiss, but she worried she might have disappointed Elvis. Jackie crept back into her shared bungalow with her parents though every light was off and not a sound came from their closed bedroom door. In the silence, she could come back down to Earth. Elvis was married and had a daughter. If what he said about his agreement was true, she should be in the clear, and still, she felt her guilt eating at her like a necrotizing flesh-eating disease. After readying herself for bed, she laid on her couch mattress staring up at the ceiling and the fan there. The ocean waves outside lulled her to sleep while she fantasized about pretty blue eyes belonging to an unattainable man.

New Year’s Eve was meant to be a spectacle for all of the Bahamas. Jackie had yet to see or run into Elvis since she last saw him the day after Christmas. She knew she should’ve kept her expectations low especially after she called her friend, Tawnie, back home to tell her about certain bits and pieces. Jackie was too nervous to tell her the entire truth.

“Hey, look I can’t be on the phone for too long, but I just wanted to check in and let you know how everything is here,” Jackie said, cradling the landline.

She was using a phone inside the lobby with an array of phones for guests to use lined up against a wall. The placement wasn’t ideal for a private conversation but it would have to do.

“Everything’s the same here, girl, you are not missin’ much. I just wish we were spendin’ tonight together for a bit of boozin’ and cruisin’.” Tawnie laughed, the sound crackling.

“I’m not sure I’ll even be doin’ much of that here,” Jackie laughed softly, leaning forward onto the table with her elbows. “I think Daddy thinks I’m goin’ out messing around with a boy and sowing my oats. Which, speaking of, I… Um, I ran into Elvis Presley a few days ago.” She whispered into the receiver.

“You’re shitting me,” Tawnie scoffed. “What do you mean you ran into Elvis Presley? Elvis Presley?” She squeaked.

“Yes, I’m gonna burst at the seams if I don’t tell someone. I feel like a Jezebel giving him any attention.” Jackie confessed.

“Well, I mean he’s a man and he’s a famous one at that. Isn’t he married?”

“Yeah, but he says he and his wife have an ‘arrangement’, but I haven’t seen him in days. Maybe it’s nothin’ to worry about.” Jackie offered shyly.

“I wouldn’t. Did y’all…you know?” Tawnie giggled.

“No,” Jackie answered a little too boisterously, looking over her shoulder into the lobby. “I mean no, I didn’t want to take the chance. He has my apartment address and phone number. There’s not much else I can do from here.”

They spoke for a few minutes longer as Jackie corralled the conversation in a different direction. Her head didn’t feel any less muddled as ideas of Elvis popped into her head repeatedly. She wished Tawnie could have come with them for the sake of company. Jackie loved her parents but she spent enough time around them working at their hardware store back home.

That night with the promise of fireworks and a countdown into the New Year, resort guests and Bahamians were sprinkled along the beach outside the bungalow. Chairs were set up and towels for people to sit, drink, and watch. The crowd wasn’t overwhelming or particularly abhorrent. The Bahamas was a different sort of slow-paced environment but similar to Virginia. Jackie didn’t look for Elvis or his presence on the beach. She needed to rein in her fanaticism and appreciate the time she was spending with her parents. They were chatting amongst themselves, sitting in the two lawn chairs while Jackie sat on a towel in front of them. Her parents held hands as they did, reminding Jackie of the kind of love she wished to have someday.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” said a man down the beach with a bullhorn. “We are five minutes out from our countdown and fireworks display. Thank you for your cooperation and trust this evening.”

Jackie smiled to herself as she drew her knees up to her chest, her flowy dress hiding her legs and feet beneath it. She nursed her beer until the countdown began, moving to stand up next to her parents.

“Five, four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!” Jackie exclaimed, her eyes drifting toward the fireworks the resort employees set off. The sparks lit up the night sky, blues and greens popping. Red and yellow were next.

“Happy New Year, baby,” her father said. Jackie dipped down to kiss his cheek and stepped over to do the same to her mother.

“Happy New Year,” Jackie smiled.

The next two weeks went on without much of a word from Elvis besides flowers with a card, then Jackie read in the paper he was expected to have a show in the new Las Vegas International Hotel upcoming on the twenty-sixth. She could explain it away as him being busy. When she received a call two days before his Vegas engagement at home, it was late enough into the night she was winding down for the evening after a long day of working at her family’s hardware store. Once she showered and put on a T-shirt and pajama pants, she could guarantee she wouldn’t leave for the rest of the night.

The wood-paneled walls reflected the lamp’s warm glow at Jackie’s side. Framed pictures or metal posters hung on the wall behind the couch. The baseboard heater off to the side filled the room with the perfect temperature though her toes were still cold under the handknit white and red blanket her mother gifted her for Christmas. Jackie was sitting on her couch sipping at a glass of wine and watching TV when she sprung up, her brow wrinkling in wonder as to who could be calling as late. She glanced at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall as she answered, the time nearing a quarter till eleven.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Is this Jackie?” Elvis’ voice curled around her name.

Jackie felt heat rising to her cheeks as she looked around her empty, and otherwise relatively quiet, apartment. She put down her glass of red wine, holding the phone with both hands. The plastic creaked as she gripped it.

“Elvis? You’ve got some nerve,” Jackie laughed.

“I know, I know. I was hoping the flowers would tide you over,” he sighed. “Look, honey, I-I just been goin’ nonstop and gettin’ ready for this Vegas show. I don’t mean ta make you wait. I had other obligations.”

The flowers had wilted since then, sitting in the middle of the coffee table back in her living room.

“Like being a husband and father?” Jackie asked, realizing her tone sounded more like a jab.

“That’s how you want to spend this time talkin’, Jack?” Elvis grumbled. Unintentionally, it caused Jackie to laugh to hear Elvis be petulant and the nickname added to her already existing nickname.

“You’re hard to forget about. Fame or not,” Jackie rubbed the tip of her finger along the countertop. “I just…miss you.” The young woman admitted softly.

“We didn’t get enough time together, honey. I was callin’ because I’ve been thinkin’ about you since. I want to fly you out to Vegas for the show. Everything is booked and taken care of. What do ya think?” Elvis hesitated.

What did she think? She didn’t know what to think because she would have to explain to her parents why she was going to Las Vegas. She rubbed at her brow, chewing at the inside of her cheek.

“Can I bring a friend?” Jackie rubbed the back of her neck.

“‘Course, honey. Whatever makes you happy. I just want to see that pretty face of yours in the audience. It’s not like the TV special. Not really. I’m nervous to be performin’ again but I think you’ll love it. All of it.” Elvis smiled on his end.

“Then… As long as you promise me there won’t be a weird overlap with Priscilla. I don’t like to think of myself as jealous.”

“No overlap. I still can’t help if she’s there, baby. I’ll have one of the guys set up everything and call you to check the schedule. I know it’s last minute.” Elvis said.

“I think my mom and dad will look at me like I’m crazy. I’ll say it’s a girls’ trip.”

“I can talk to them—“

“You are not calling them,” Jackie laughed.

“I’m only offerin’ a solution,” Elvis hiccupped with a laugh. “I will leave it to you then. I’ve got to get goin’. Jackie?”

“Yeah, Elvis?” Jackie sobered up.

“I’m sorry if me takin’ forever to call hurt you. You’re a special little girl. I-I’m not trying to make you feel less than, alright?”

“Okay, Elvis,” Jackie nodded as if he could see.

“Good. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” Jackie smiled.

There was a click and she hung up too. She exhaled a breath she never believed she was holding until then, grabbing her glass of wine to return to her couch. She would call Tawnie tomorrow and convince her they had to go to Las Vegas.

“This is really outta sight,” Tawnie whispered.

They were on a commercial flight to Vegas and if Jackie was right and approximated by her wristwatch, they were about to land soon.

“I can’t believe it either,” Jackie exhaled, looking out of the window as the desert of Nevada seemed to be getting closer to the underbelly of the plane.

Elvis’ first show at the International would be at midnight, leaving them with enough time to prepare for it. The amount of time they had in between made Jackie increasingly nervous. The smoothest part thus far was landing and grabbing their bags, then heading outside for pick-up. When Lamar Fike called on Elvis’ behalf and gave her a general description of what Joe Esposito looked like, she didn’t expect him to have a sign with her name. To her relief, she didn’t think she would have recognized him without it.

“Jackie and Tawnie?” Joe asked.

“I’m Jackie,” Jackie introduced herself, shifting her suitcase to the opposite hand. She was surprised by the lack of a Southern accent rolling off his tongue.

“And I’m Tawnie,” Tawnie said, pushing her sunglasses onto her nose.

“Good enough for me. Let’s get goin’, ladies,” Joe grinned, taking Jackie’s bag from her. Tawnie’s were next and they were shuffling into the car.

Jackie had never been to Vegas before then. Sin City lived up to its name just from the smattering of various activities and buildings promoting things that would make a Virginian clutch their pearls. The sun was close to setting and slowly the lights along the Strip at various hotels, casinos, and restaurants lit the way. As they pulled up in front of the International, Joe parked just long enough to grab their bags from the trunk before speaking to Jackie.

“Alright, you’ll go to the front desk and check-in under Jon Burrows. Oh, and before I forget,” Joe said, digging into the inside pocket of his jacket after passing off their bags. “Here are the tickets for tonight.”

“Thanks so much for giving us a ride and all,” Jackie said, peering down at the tickets. She handed one over to Tawnie for safekeeping.

“Need anything else?” Joe asked, looking between both women.

“All set,” Jackie smiled.

At half past eleven, Jackie looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing down the dress Elvis left for her. Tawnie watched, mouth open in shock as she unwrapped the neatly tied red ribbon from around the box. Jackie packed a pair of dangly diamond earrings to go with the other dress she bought but she felt that much prettier knowing Elvis chose something with her in mind.

“Ready, Tawnie?” Jackie called from the living room of the suite.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Tawnie called back.

Jackie blew out a breath, grabbing her purse and triple-checking she had her ticket. The amount of people and cameras in the lobby leading to the auditorium was overwhelming. Jackie and Tawnie were seated after some slow shuffling through the line, their table near the front of the stage among select strangers at the long clothed table. Jackie could have touched the stage from where she sat. Tawnie squeezed at her arm excitedly. Both women were grateful when their server came to the table and doled out drinks to help calm their nerves. When the music started, Jackie didn’t care as much for her anxiety and only wanted to hurry the night away to see Elvis. Everyone and everything settled besides the occasional server roaming around or guest filtering in. As the show began, her heart rate picked up a little more, and like lightning, Elvis was there on stage and welcomed by raucous applause. The band was as unbelievable as Elvis looked in his mostly all-white jumpsuit. Jackie looked on with hunger in her eyes that she never had until then, seeing Elvis’ hips sway seductively.

When Elvis finally looked at her directly, doing so a few times, he would grin and move around the stage so as not to linger near her for too long. When Can’t Help Falling In Love began to play, she shivered at seeing Elvis kiss several women. The man knew how to captivate an audience. For it to be her first Elvis concert, she was easily convinced then that he and Priscilla surely had an agreement after all. Starry-eyed, Jackie watched as Elvis moved down the stage in front of her again and knelt. He smiled devilishly, holding the secret only they (and Tawnie) knew of.

“Don’t be shy, honey,” Elvis smiled, offering his free hand to Jackie.

Jackie looked sidelong at her table, the faces different from her own besides a few famous ones she swore she saw in the crowd back in the booths. Elvis was crazy to do something as bold. For a second, the alcohol in her system and Elvis had her mesmerized. She took his hand as she stood all in one smooth motion, pushing up on her already-heeled toes to reach him. He lifted her with more strength than she pictured he had. Their lips met and she felt that electricity in her stomach the same as she did a month ago. Elvis flicked his tongue, holding her there for a second longer than he probably should have.

“Phew, Lord, have mercy,” Elvis said near the mic.

They broke apart and Jackie was undoubtedly flustered as she watched Elvis flit away. She watched with parted lips, sitting back down, and Tawnie placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I think he remembers you, alright,” Tawnie laughed, returning to her clapping.

When the show ended and the curtain came down, Jackie looked at Tawnie in a tipsy stupor. Elvis nodded at the crowd, smiling and saying his ‘thank yous’. Before the curtain dropped, he looked at Jackie again and mouthed ‘I’ll see you’. Jackie didn’t know she could adore the same quiet and meek man she met on the beach now replaced with a megastar that didn’t appear to be afraid of anything.

“So, what now?” Tawnie asked, taking her pick out of her purse. She grinned sleepily, fluffing her hair.

As Jackie opened her mouth in consideration, they were being approached by one of the Elvis’ team. She wished she knew how Elvis was pulling it off, coordinating her and Priscilla’s presence. They were led through where the concessions were off to the left of the auditorium and through the employee backroom and kitchen. Jackie glanced at Tawnie with a shrug as they went down a set of stairs. Their guide led them to the employee elevator and left them alone inside the cart to head to the top floor. There were already individuals and guests bumbling around by the time the two of them were inside.

“Oh, my God, is that who I think it is?” Tawnie whispered.

“Too many famous faces to count,” Jackie whispered back. “Let’s get a drink.”

By Jackie’s fourth drink, she could dance carefree enough to not care about who was who. When Elvis did enter the room, people erupted into applause again as they were all personal fans of the star. He was dressed in all-black leather from head-to-toe similarly to how he had been in the Comeback Special. The room settled again into a murmur and Jackie tried not to feel like chopped liver as Elvis made his rounds. Tawnie sat beside her while she chose to stand, wanting to dance out any nervous energy. Not long after a man with long dirty blond hair past his ears and a thick mustache approached Jackie.

“You’ve got some nice dance moves I was diggin’. Don’t stop on account of me,” the man grinned. Jackie narrowed her eyes as she often did with men she was skeptical of.

“I don’t dance for strangers,” Jackie flirted and shook her head. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Scott,” he smirked, raising a hand to lean into the nearby wall.

“And Scott, you want me to continue dancing for you like you’re at some kind of go-go and not at Elvis Presley’s afterparty?” She smiled, raising her cup to her lips.

“A beautiful woman such as yourself deserves an audience. Isn’t that right?” Scott brushed his hair back from his face.

“I’d have to say it is,” said Elvis behind Scott.

Jackie didn’t know who felt more caught but she had done nothing wrong and neither did she have anything to be ashamed of. Elvis walked around to stand in front of them both, his tanned skin radiant under the lights. Eyes were drawn in their direction but most tried to pretend they weren’t paying any mind.

“Elvis,” Jackie said in alarm.

“Who’s your friend?” Elvis tested, his tone lighter than the insinuation.

“Scott, apparently. We just met.” Jackie shrugged. She observed closely while she was sure jealousy was roiling off of Elvis.

“I’m one of the stagehands for your show, Mr. Presley. We haven’t gotten the chance to meet in person. It’s nice to meet you.” Scott spoke cordially with a need to impress Elvis. He extended a hand to him that Elvis first just looked at before taking it in a firm shake.

Elvis had to play his role and if he didn’t want anyone to know he flew a woman out to Vegas then that meant being less of a jealous jerk and more of a friend pining for her attention. “Good to meet someone who can keep up with my craziness. Do you mind if I have a moment alone with Jackie here?” Elvis asked.

“Of course. No problem, Mr. Presley.” Scott smiled, stepping out of the way and rejoining the rest of the party. Tawnie’s attention had been drawn from people-watching to them too.

“You, too, T. Just for a few minutes,” Jackie said, nudging her foot. “Oh, and I’m being rude. Tawnie, this is Elvis. Elvis, this is Tawnie.”

“You sure as hell are,” Tawnie grinned, jumping up to face Elvis and greet him. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“You, too, honey. Any friend of Jackie’s is a friend of mine,” Elvis smiled, stepping in first to close the gap and hug Tawnie. Tawnie faced Jackie in their hug and mouthed ‘Oh my God’ before they separated.

“I’ll let you two get reacquainted. I might go try to tell Sammy Davis Jr. a joke.” Tawnie smiled, slipping away.

Elvis watched her go before stepping in toward Jackie, placing a hand on her arm. He wanted to feel her in the most appropriate way the space they were in permitted.

“Don’t tell me that young guy had your attention. I can be one jealous sonofabitch,” Elvis smirked, dipping his head down to meet her eyes. Jackie held his gaze, searching because she knew he was being truthful while trying to hide it behind sarcasm.

“I’ve had my eyes on you all night. I should be the jealous one. I lost count of how many women you kissed. You’re saying I can’t even the score?” Jackie laughed.

“Oh, no, not one bit. I don’t feel anything for those women. It’s all a part of making a good show and everyone happy. Did I make you happy?” Elvis purred, his thumb rubbing circles over her skin.

“I was just as happy when you left this dress in my room,” Jackie smoothed her hands down the front of it, the bodice tight in every possible dip and curve except for the hem where it was flowing around her calves. “But I hope it’s not all for show.”

“Not with you, no. I’m hoping I can see it on my floor later once we clear everyone out of here. What do ya say?” Elvis mumbled just low enough for her to hear.

“I don’t know, Elvis. I,” Jackie glanced around, mindful of any eavesdroppers. “I missed you. I want to talk, too.”

“We always talk, don’t we? I’ll have to extend your and your friend’s stay here if you really would like to play catch up, Jack. I’ve got a lot on my mind to share. You’ll be sick’a me by the end of it, little girl. Let me make some more rounds; then, it’ll just be you and me. Okay?” Elvis assured her. He dropped his head down to press a kiss to her cheek and drew back with a hopeful smile.

Jackie nodded with the reassurance and the night dwindled as promised. By the time Elvis’ suite started to empty, it was half past two in the morning. Jackie was less confident she could stay up any later and Tawnie called it a night half an hour before to return to their room a few floors below. She slinked away into Elvis’ bedroom as he wanted and instructed ten minutes prior. She didn’t know if she was more grateful for the bed or the privacy of a door. The room wasn’t particularly personalized or special.

Jackie sat on the end of the bed to undo the clasps on her heels and sighed as she stood up to freshen up what little she could in the bathroom. The chatter outside the room grew quieter, forcing her to face her reflection in the bathroom. Was she going to go through with sleeping with Elvis?

“Jackie?” Elvis called from the bedroom.

Jackie felt her heart lurch as she swished around mouthwash and spit it out into the sink. She took her used washcloth, adding it to the pile of used towels there. With the last bit of her second wind, she opened the door to join Elvis who looked pleased and equally weary to see her there.

“Just look at you. Even this late, still just as beautiful. C’mere,” Elvis said, holding out his hand as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Jackie sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth as she crossed the room on bare feet. Elvis’ hand was warm as she took it and pulled her into his lap. He rested a palm on her thigh, nudging his nose into the space between Jackie’s neck and shoulder.

“Elvis, can I be honest?” Jackie interrupted gently.

“What is it, baby?” Elvis groaned, lifting a hand to her cheek. His lips parted, sucking a spot into her skin along the front of her throat.

“I’m so tired from flying all day and it’s late. Can we pick this back up in the mornin’?”

“Are you sure?” He asked patiently, then pulled back to look at Jackie. His hands massaged her, squeezing where he could. Jackie became hyperaware of how hard he was beneath her. The man was unstoppable.

How was he able to keep going after the day and night he had?

“Never mind. Let’s get you into bed. I’ll go brush my teeth. Turn down the bed. Hm?” Elvis nodded as he gauged her reaction.

“Okay. Thank you,” she told him bashfully.

“You don’t have to thank me. I want you to want me. I’ll take your thank you then. We’ll talk in the morning. Now go.” Elvis smiled, patting her thigh.

“Oh, even in the face of the Sandman, you still find a way to be cocky,” Jackie laughed, sliding from his lap.

Jackie climbed up the bed and started to pull her dress from the bottom up over her head. She revealed her bare breasts and underwear hugging tight to her round rear. As requested, her dress was tossed onto the floor. Elvis watched the entire thing after standing, his erection staring back at Jackie through his pants. Jackie was unlike the usual women he surrounded himself with. Including his wife. Jackie’s ability to keep him at bay made him want her that much more.

His little young and precocious thing.

“Not cocky at all. Just makin’ my promises now. Rest your little head now.” Elvis laughed, turning toward the bathroom and shutting the door.

Jackie fell asleep waiting for Elvis, curled up beneath the covers she drew back for them both. Elvis joined her after peeling himself out of his tight outfit and shutting off the lights. Tired didn’t truly know him. The uppers he was on made sure of it but he could cuddle a gorgeous woman that stripped in front of him possibly for his sake. Elvis gathered Jackie into his arms, disrupting her slumber briefly and causing her to stir enough to back into Elvis.

“Sleep tight,” Elvis mumbled atop her head.

Jackie was too generous in thinking she would wake up in the morning. The sun was high in the sky by the time she woke to wandering hands roaming over the length of her stomach and up to her breasts. She groaned softly while she took a few seconds to register where she was, a few seconds passing until she recalled Elvis was behind her. The urge to pee had her bounding out of bed for the bathroom, mumbling about coming back soon. Jackie also wanted the opportunity to use his mouthwash again before she thought about speaking first thing that morning. She returned to bed, Elvis waiting in the same position with his eyes closed at first. He welcomed her back as she scooted in with her back to his chest.

“Are you hungry?” Elvis murmured. He left kisses, a cool trail at the back of her neck that woke her up completely. The heat pooling between her legs took priority over any other need.

“Yes, very,” Jackie breathed, inching her hips back into the waiting bulge. She could feel the chill of his pajamas covering him from top to bottom which she never expected. The room was chilly enough and his warmth was appreciated.

“What would you like?” Elvis breathed, sliding a hand down her side to her hip.

“What’s on the menu?” Jackie slowly opened her eyes.

“I can show you better than I can tell you,” Elvis said. He pressed another kiss to her shoulder and slid calloused, but soft, fingers down to the front of her. He cupped her heat, testing and feeling while using his long fingers to rub at her. Jackie sighed, lifting her hips into his hand. When Elvis retracted, she whimpered in her neediness while he beckoned her to raise her hips to draw her panties down. “I wanted to show you how grateful I am for reassuring me I’m on the right path and maybe God brought you into my life to be a guiding light.”

Jackie was mildly incredulous by the mention of God, as she too struggled with purpose and direction in her life. She blushed because she was stuck on feeling as if she were being thanked for contributing to his adultery. Elvis had to be telling the truth about his arrangement because there he was with her and not anyone else. She forced down the rampant twenty-one year old thoughts clanking around in her head when Elvis was touching her again. His hand circled over her clit with just the right amount of pressure, her breath catching in her throat and making her pause the same way her thoughts had. Elvis used his free hand to squeeze at one of her breasts, pinching at the nipple as he pressed his pelvis into her ass.

“Oh, baby, I hardly have to do anything. You’re already so wet for me. This what you been hidin’?” Elvis' deep baritone rumbled in her ear.

The hand on her chest made its way to her throat, possessive but gentle. The hand between her legs dipped until he sunk his middle deep inside of her. Jackie made a high-pitched noise that he hummed his approval to. Elvis was drawing his finger out to replace it with two, pumping them slowly, then quick enough that she knew she would get off if he kept at it.

“Elvis,” she hissed. For the first time, she wondered if and when his entourage would come and go from the suite. Elvis told her how he was never really alone and that made her worry someone could hear her.

“Come on my fingers, baby. Don’t be afraid to be a naughty girl. Open up for me,” Elvis moaned.

He was still humping into her from behind, straining against the fabric of his pajamas and creating a small blotch of pre-come. Elvis withdrew his fingers again, forcing Jackie to be aware of just how empty she felt. His hand rubbed at her clit again to get her there before his fingers were inside of her again, working at the sensitive flesh. It was all too much for Jackie to be strummed at and picked like one of his guitars. Her peak was sudden and all at once, the pressure building like a compression chamber. Jackie pressed her head back, moaning out freely and forgetting about any other worries she had beyond that room. Actual tears crept from the corners of her eyes as she trembled and Elvis held onto her like a vice while actively using his fingers to keep her orgasm going. Jackie reached for his wrist when it became too much and he pressed a light bite into the side of her neck.

“Mhm, too much, little girl?” Elvis asked.

“Somethin’…like that,” Jackie breathed heavily. She swallowed hard, a failed attempt at catching her breath.

“I wanna fuck you,” Elvis mumbled. “Is that alright?”

Jackie could have laughed. Elvis had a filthy mouth and gave his team props for hiding it well enough that it took her by surprise every time he cussed.

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t,” Jackie licked her lips and started to roll over onto her back.

Elvis gave her the room to do so and then sat up. He unbuttoned his pajama shirt to toss it aside and followed up with the pants, kicking them away carelessly down the bed. Then there they were, somewhere neither of them thought they would be for two different reasons. Jackie’s mouth salivated as her eyes took in Elvis’ lean frame and his girthy cock. He moved up onto his knees, displaying his entire body. His hair was messy and he looked more exhausted than he was moving. Either way, Jackie found him to be one of the most beautiful men once again. She didn’t know if she would ever stop thinking that. Elvis’ eyes looked over her, wanting to save every inch of her to memory in case the day came when she didn’t want him anymore.

Jackie opened her legs up to him and he moved carefully between them, bumping into her as he did. Elvis lowered onto his forearms, a hand coming up to smooth down her hair.

“I should’ve bought you some kind of head wrap if I thought you were stayin’ or comin’,” Elvis smiled, seating himself. They were pressed into the other but he didn’t rush to fill her.

“What do you know about that?” Jackie laughed. Elvis' cheekbones jumped and stuck out as he smiled in return.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it, little girl,” Elvis grinned before he stole a kiss. Jackie sighed as the humor left the room. When he first lined himself and slid into her, she felt a pang of realization that her affection for Elvis extended beyond more than her heart could take. Jackie wrapped her legs around his waist and he didn’t let up on his kisses until he was speeding up. His movements remained unrushed, breaking their kiss to drop his head beside Jackie’s and let out moans she would never forget.

When they finished, Elvis stayed put atop of her, sliding down to rest his head between her breasts. He panted and closed his eyes, at some point reaching for one of Jackie’s hands and pressing the back of it to his lips.

“I’d like to keep seein’ you. Even in Virginia and have you fly out to Memphis sometime. I don’t think I’d like it very much to go as long without seein’ you,” Elvis proclaimed.

“I think the sex has you not thinkin’ straight,” Jackie smiled.

“I’m serious. You’re somethin’ special. I’ll prove it to you, don’t you worry.” Elvis hummed, pressing another kiss to the back of her hand.

“You are somethin’ else, Elvis Presley,” Jackie sighed, combing her fingers through his sweaty hair.

FIN

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x black reader #Elvis Presley x black ofc #Elvis Presley smut #elvis fanfic #elvis fic #elvis smut #elvis film #elvis movie #elvis

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sitp-recs · 2 years ago

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Hi!! Do you know any fics with sex scenes that seem more comfortable and routine ig? I'm thinking of ones similar to the scene in Wild that you talked about recently, where they are obviously attracted to each other but it's not super intense or anything, it's more like they're taking their time and having fun? Idk if that makes sense😂

Hi there! That makes total sense, love myself some organic and fun smut 🤌🏼 I guess that’s something a bit personal but I really like the easy intimacy from these fics:

Tense by Faith Wood (E, 3k)

Harry and Draco have sex. Very, very slowly. Seriously, this is, like, 3K of penetration.

Student Digs by Lokifan (E, 4k)

Harry’s living in *student accommodation*. Just the phrase makes Draco shudder.

Lucid by dracoladon (E, 4.4k)

Harry's not sure what makes him harder; listening to Draco talk about astronomy, or shagging Draco so thoroughly that he can't talk at all. Both, probably.

Matched Set by astolat (E, 5.7k)

“No one asked you to look, did they?” Draco said, eyes glittering and intent on Harry’s face—like he’d just wiped off the years and turned back in time to when their greatest ambition in life had been to knock the other off his broom in front of the school and grab the Snitch first, before they’d both gone to war and come back with scars.

Up The by @shiftylinguini (E, 7.5k)

“I feel I need to point out,” Draco kissed gently over Harry’s Adam’s apple, “that this is the most Gryffindor approach to conception that could possibly exist.” Or: Harry's had madder ideas.

Born Slippy by dracoladon (E, 8k)

Harry finds that it's less 'one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor' and more 'one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, decide Malfoy's quite fit, actually, and decent company after your friends traitorous abandonment, floor.' With Malfoy lying next to you.

break the bad luck in my life by seaworn (E, 11k)

Draco and Harry are both brooding on Christmas Eve.

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (E, 15k)

As Draco leaned on the wall to wait for them to get dressed, he could not help feeling like he had done a very kind thing by disrupting them. Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had.

Waiting By An Open Door by Femme and noeon (E, 29k)

Draco starts following Potterwatch secretly during the War. He wishes Potter would come save him too. But that sort of thing only happens in fairy tales, and Malfoys don't get fairy tale endings, do they?

Wild, orphaned (E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #organic sex scenes

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phanfictioncatalogue · 4 months ago

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Long Fic Titles (8+ Words) (5) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four

a universe without you (would be thoroughly mundane) (ao3) - chaeriloidea

Summary: Too much time on Twitter makes Dan reflect on how far he's come in his relationship with Phil and his audience.

Dan and Phil Take Each Other's Clothes Off (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!) (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan and Phil play dress-up based off Dan's one dailybooth

Dan stops and stares at him, “You did not just tell me a red panda fact while we are having sex.”

“They can also glow in the dark.”

don't wanna walk alone (so let's get married) (ao3) - lesbaurinkos (pluginbaby)

Summary: Phil’s always been a little wistful about the idea, some part of him a bit hopelessly romantic, perhaps, but his mind always catches on the thought of marrying Dan.

(or: marriage chats on a saturday night)

every city was a gift (and every skyline was like a kiss upon the lips) (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: “Do you think we could get a proper American desert cactus for our house?”

“Phil, no.”

“I missed the train, can I stay with you?” Redux (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Phil can’t believe he let Ian convince him to go out to a nightclub. How he got from there, to sending a text to Ian that he’s actually heading back to his flat with somebody holy shit don’t be worried he won’t get ax murdered probably, Phil really can’t be sure.

A ficlet about senses and surprises.

I missed you so much I dyed the towels green (ao3) - chuuyaswife

Summary: A few of Dan’s shows get cancelled while he’s on the WAD tour so he decides to surprise his boyfriend back home for a few days. Fluffy reunion ensues.

i wanna throw the fight (and kiss away your pain tonight) (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: when feelings are too much for words

i will never know a sunday (how slow the moments go) (ao3) - beaniebopbaby

Summary: The man hunched over the piano, and Phil felt like he couldn’t breath. He looked around the room, to see if anyone else noticed this shift, when he finally realized they were alone. The notes grew slower and slower as Phil stood, drifting closer to the man playing the piano. The pianist looked as mesmerized as Phil, absorbed in his playing.

I'd like to hang out with you (for my whole life) (ao3) - bunnyslipper

Summary: Mornings in the forever home (featuring the golden pig)

If we were two sunflowers, I would have faced you instead of the sun (ao3) - twinphantasy

Summary: It didn’t really matter where they were or what they were looking at because Dan would always be looking at Phil.

i’m electric, a romantic cliché (me and you were meant to be in love) (ao3) - nardfx

Summary: “i really don’t know if i can do this.”

“you can do this.”

“okay, but what happens when everyone’s eyes are on me and they all know all of my secrets?”

dan and phil go to prom

in this falling rain (i fill the scattered you) (ao3) - ivylakes

Summary: “I’m not,” Dan finally says, voice cracking. He still doesn’t look over at the older boy. “I’m not okay, Phil.”

Phil stays where he is. He doesn’t leave, but he doesn’t come closer, either. He simply waits.

He always waits for Dan.

Or, Dan is weighed down by his mind, and Phil holds him anyway.

It Only Takes a Moment: A Dan and Phil WALL-E AU (ao3) - trancelover99

Summary: So, I've been thinking about this WALL-E AU where Dan and Phil replace Wall-E and Eve for a while, and I thought I should get around to making it! I hope you all enjoy it!

Origins of the Phass Inflation Post (Dan and Phil in Greece) (ao3) - EverythingIsAsItWas

Summary: Dan and Phil rarely take vacations just for themselves, vacations in which they make no content, do not work, and simply enjoy each other's company. Going to Greece feels like the perfect opportunity for this, but Phil also thinks it's the perfect opportunity for a video... and Dan likes being a little shit.

The three times it was a one off and the one time it was forever (ao3) - KirstieVic

Summary: 2014, 2016 and 2018 it's a one off.

Then 2020 during lockdown, it's forever.

we were never in the park (ignoring tornado warnings) (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: After Phil leaves Dan, Dan starts seeing a therapist. Then, Phil comes back, and Dan starts lying to his therapist about him.

without saying a word (you had all of me) (ao3) - rainbowroshenpower

Summary: I trace it all back, three-thirty AM

That night, something turned in my heart

While you were sleeping, I fell in love

you're never gonna get by on three hours sleep a night (unless you absolutely have to) (ao3) - Mildredo

Summary: phil has a migraine on tour.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfic #phanfiction #masterlists #dan and phil #longfictitles #longfictitles masterlist

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shyanshippingsociety · 1 year ago

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Shyan Shipping Society - NY Fic Exchange 2024

hi everyone!

can you believe it's our fourth annual new years exchange? we had some amazing fics and art (hosted in our server!) and i can't wait to bring them all to you here! let's go!

CHECK OUT THE AO3 COLLECTION!

doll island by idkspookystuff | E, 3K, complete

So Shane clearly picked up something on the Island. Something that made him hot and sweaty and horny, apparently. It doesn’t sound like any spider venom Ryan’s ever heard of, or the signs of a demonic curse. Although, a curse- “Oh, fuck,” Ryan swears. it's 2016, shane & ryan are on the island of the dolls, and a demonic doll plays matchmaker

satan, you're a nerve-y one by icantturnthisthingoff | E, 1K, complete

After a series of unfortunate events, Ryan finds himself alone on New Years Eve wishing he had someone to keep him company Enter, Incubus Shane

The Sky In The Snow by Charmingwolf | T, 1K, complete

A group of backpackers stayed the night in an abandoned shed deep in the forest. In the dark, one was journaled their adventures until they felt the rumble of a massive creature just outside the thin walls. They looked out the window and saw a huge black thing with scales that twinkled like stars and huge fangs that dripped puddles of dark goo as it walked. That was all they got down before the creature attacked. It tore down the walls of the shed before killing the backpackers and dragging them into the crunchy frostbitten grass. That was 20 years ago. No one has seen the creature since. Ryan and the producers think it would make a great video to go hunting for the creature dubbed The Forest Hill Lizard.

one random night when everything changes by Artemis | E, 1K, complete

Ryan looks for Shane on New Year's Eve and finds more than just the person he was looking for that night. AKA Shane confesses his love for Ryan, they smooch, then they do something about it.

all in! by anonymous | T, 4K, complete

“I bet…," he starts, flashing a grin at Shane's flushed face. "you won’t kiss me on New Year’s Eve.” Ryan watches as Shane instantly runs the numbers on this, through whatever mental calculator he has in his brain. He imagines beeps and whirs, gears turning words into numbers. “Alright, Bergara,” he says, after a moment. Then, he slides his whole stack of chips sitting on the pool table and nods, slow and considering. “I’m all in.” OR: Ryan makes a bet. It escalates from there.

They Got Subway at 2 am by Charmingwolf | M, 1K, complete

After a very silly and kind of sexually charged shoot, Shane and Ryan explore each other's bodies like they have done many times before.

Given the Chance by PlatinumPussycat208 | E, 3K, complete

“It’s…I built a time machine.” Ryan and Shane blinked at each other. The other Shane and Ryan looked at one another, but stayed in the doorway quietly. “Fuck off, Steven. That’s not funny.” Shane’s voice was serious now. “No! I mean it!” Steven cried. “It’s how I’ve been keeping on top of everything here! It only goes back a little! It just gives me more time in the day!” Ryan barked out a laugh. “Oh my god…trust Steven to build a time machine to do more work.” - a fun, smutty fic for the SSS NY Exchange!

Scheming for a Smooch by Impala_Chick | T, 2K, complete

The boys both decide to make a move on each other with a New Year's kiss at midnight. Only problem is, they're both plotting to get a smooch and the other doesn't know it yet.

Their dynamic is... by tasty_littl_snack | G, 1K, complete

Food files from the cameraman's perspective.

With A Little Help From Our Friends by quackers | M, 3K, complete

Everyone thinks they know Ryan and Shane's secret. Everyone. They might be wrong.

thank you so much to all of the incredible creators who joined this event! happy 2024 from the sss mods! we have so many fun things planned so make sure you follow us here on tumblr or join the server so you don't miss out! we hope you had a great 2023 in our server/on our blog and we can't wait for you to continue having a great time in our server in 2024!

love you!

the mods

#shyan shipping society new years exchange 2024 #shyan shipping society #shyan #skeptic believer #watcher after dark #buzzfeed unclean #buzzfeed after dark #mod ve

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nobody-is-evil · 2 years ago

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Hob Gadling and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

but cheer up, Hob. You get a Dream out of it!

Alternative Title: In Which Destiny Gets Tired Of Two Idiots Dancing Around Each Other And Does Something

This is for the Jan prompt Fake Dating for @yearoftheotpevent. Also fulfills another prompt, but I’ll leave that a mystery :D.

Thanks to @wolfe-marvin (hope I got the right person) for being my beta!

I’ll crosspost this on Ao3…soon. Before the end of January. Would love it if I got constructive criticism in the meantime!

Hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Mary’s party was okay.

Hob probably should’ve had nicer things to say about his friend’s party, especially a friend he’d known for years now, but the truth was that he wasn’t feeling it. He wasn’t feeling the board game room, or the table tennis tournament, or even the room where everyone was watching the news, waiting for the countdown to start. He wasn’t really feeling...

People. Hob laughed at himself as he headed for an unoccupied balcony. He was socially exhausted. Probably should’ve realized earlier, what with over six hundred years of experience. What he wanted was to be alone.

Well. Not alone, per se. He’d be fine with the company of one other, as long as that one other was his oldest Friend. They’d increased the frequency of their meetings, but even so, Hob hadn’t been able to get a meeting to land on New Year’s Eve. Instead, they were meeting tomorrow, so it was all he could think about (not that he wouldn’t be paying full attention to his Friend if he was here).

The new year likely didn’t have any significance to his Friend. Hob had been around for many, many years, his Friend likely even longer, and today’s party was just minuscule compared to the gigantic parties he’d been to for each turn of the century, especially 2000.

That didn’t mean this year couldn’t be significant. He’d seen his Friend several times in the past year, and they planned to meet many more times this year—that was pretty significant already to Hob. He should make a New Year’s resolution about his Friend.

I will confess to my Friend.

But was that too fast? It took him centuries to get his Friend to admit they were friends, and Hob still didn’t know his name.

At the same time, with only one day of meeting over the centuries, it technically only took him seven days to achieve it.

The fact that Hob was in love with his Friend was kind of pathetic either way, but he could probably pretend it only happened after their more frequent meetings started, and then, once he knew his Friend wasn’t going to run away, he could tell him.

Besides, it was a resolution for the whole year. He didn’t have to do it the next time he saw his Friend. He could wait a month. Or two. Or several. It wasn’t like he didn’t have time.

“Robby! What’re you doing out here all by yourself?” Mary sounded genuinely confused, and Hob didn’t blame her. Without any context, he’d think his behavior was strange, too. “It’s almost time!”

“Oh, is it? Can’t miss that!” With a bright grin, Hob slung an arm around her shoulder and led her inside as if he’d been the one retrieving her.

As she said, the countdown was in the final stretch. Everyone had packed into the biggest room, leaving barely enough room to breathe, let alone add two more people, but Hob powered through to reunite Mary with her best girl friend. Once he’d done that, he backed out to the nearest wall, taking whatever bit of space he could.

The countdown hit zero. While everyone was cheering and kissing their partners, Hob imagined kissing his Friend.

———

Hob woke to the disorientating feeling of split-second freefall before landing heavily on a hard surface with a thump. He groaned. Where did the meadow go—oh, wait.

Now, he was awake and remembered what happened. Parts of it, at least. He distinctly remembered the feeling of annoyance that came with having to flee from a woman (a friend of a friend of a friend?) who wouldn’t leave him alone. That had been at a party, Mary’s party for the new year. Everything else was just flashes.

He was hungover, he knew that much, though he didn’t feel as bad as he would expect after blacking out for most of the night, falling asleep on the couch, and then falling off the couch.

Hob narrowed his eyes at a familiar presence. “Friend?” he asked as he pushed himself up off the ground.

Those gorgeous eyes—

His Friend was, indeed, there, looking down at him. At his silence, Hob got the impression that his Friend had said something that Hob somehow missed. When asked to repeat himself, his Friend said, “I have a request.”

“And I’d love to hear it, if you give me some time to freshen up.” He started to head to his bedroom before pausing. “How long have you been here?”

His Friend replied in monotone, “I was here when you arrived.”

“Since I came home?” Hob repeated with no small amount of surprise. At his Friend’s nod, he asked, “Why?”

“It is...an important request. Important enough to wait for you to be sober.”

“Okay...” His Friend had never asked anything of him beyond their deal for him to tell his experiences. Hob was unsure as to what else he could do. “I’ll be quick, then.”

True to his word, Hob showered, changed, and did everything else to freshen up within the next fifteen minutes. “Okay!” he called as he went in search of his Friend, “What did you need?”

He found his Friend sitting on the couch Hob had been sleeping on, inspecting the tv remote. His Friend quickly set it down and stared at Hob as he sat down in a chair across from him.

I’ve been the subject of my Friend’s gaze before, but that wasn’t after he showed up unexpectedly, after he apparently took care of me while I was blackout drunk, after he watched over me in my sleep for I don’t even know how long, or after he was in my home while I was naked—

“...’re supposed to have...guests...and Destiny has told me that I shall bring one...”

Having spaced back in, somehow, Hob got the feeling that that wasn’t just a name like it was for most people, but that wasn’t as important as the fact that his Friend needed him. “So you want me to come to a party with you?”

His Friend narrowed his eyes at Hob, and, as if repeating himself, said, “A family dinner, yes.”

Hob didn’t say anything for a moment. He got the feeling...but no, surely his Friend wouldn’t hide something from him if he truly needed to know it. “Of course. So, who should I expect to see?”

“Five of my siblings shall be present. Destiny is the oldest...I believe he is bringing a man named Tobias Indiana. Death is als—”

“Death?” Hob interrupted with no small amount of disbelief. “I thought, well, I thought you’d have some sort of power over death. Given,” he gestured to his Friend’s entire vibe. Not that he isn’t attractive—

“...my older sister is...much better with humans than I. She is also bringing a human. Jonathan Geiger impressed her when...he won a contest against Lucifer.”

Was that a joke? Was his Friend taking the piss? Either he was (unbelievable) or Lucifer was real (equally unbelievable).

“Of my younger siblings...Desire is bringing a deity named Ekeko. Their twin sister...Despair...is bringing...I think it was...a ghost.”

A ghost? As in, an intangible dead person who could make things float and possess people? They were real?

As though he could read Hob’s mind, his Friend continued, “Perhaps...they shall not be as you expect. Ghost is simply...the closest term for them...in English.” His Friend didn’t elaborate beyond that.

“My youngest sibling...Delirium is bringing...” His Friend let out a sigh, suddenly looking much older as he stared at the floor. “A Knocker.”

If there was one thing that could be counted on, it was good big brothers being protective over their younger sisters. “You don’t approve?”

“Delirium has one requirement for her guests...that they amuse her. Death informed me that she attended the last family dinner with a demon whose goal was to take vengeance against us Endless.”

That sounded like Hob had stumbled upon another can of worms they did not need to open at the moment. He quickly redirected onto the most harmless-sounding and most curious part of that, the last word, endless. “Is that another word for immortal?”

“That is the word for my siblings and I.”

This was probably the best opportunity he was gonna get. His Friend couldn’t misunderstand this. “So it is some sort of requirement that your name start with De-?”

His Friend took a deep breath.

Hob leaned in. What was it? Delicious? Deception? No. Destraction? Uh, Deal? No. Dear? Hmm. Deer? Definitely not. None of them fit his Friend.

“My name is Dream.”

Nothing could have fit his Friend, Dream, better. It’s perfect. Dream’s perfect. I wanna just say his name over and over— “So you know things about people because you know their dreams?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, but is it like asleep dreams, or aspiration dreams?

“Yes.”

Okay, so this was just one of those things Hob was going to give up on and stay confused about.

Like how throughout this conversation he seemed to be missing snatches of time here and there, as if he was a computer with files getting corrupted.

Hob cracked another joke to get his mind off of that, “I don’t have to worry about Death being mad at us for helping me avoid her, right?”

Dream (!) gave him an incredulous look. “Of course not. You would not be able to escape Death if she did not allow you to live. No...you should be more concerned about the rest...of my siblings.”

His Friend suddenly turned the full force of his stare on Hob. It’s still overwhelming, even more so because Dream’s so fucking concerned for Hob—

“...able?” Dream was saying, his gaze now expectant.

Hob blinked at him. “What?”

“I merely asked that you inform me if any of my siblings...threaten you. Is that agreeable?”

“Well, you’d know your siblings better than I would,” Hob decided, then teased, “You’re the reason I’m coming, so naturally it falls to you to protect me, my lord.”

Dream’s eyes widened, and he raised his voice, “You must not call me that—my siblings expect us to be close!”

Hob had jerked away from him, staring frozen with shock. I’ve never seen Dream like that before—

When he had zoned back in, his Friend had averted his eyes. There was a pause, and then, “Perhaps...I should be...truthful.”

“During my meeting with Destiny yesterday, he told me that I would visit you. I would...begin a romance with you...that was why I would bring you to our dinner.”

That was a possibility? That could’ve happened?? Or maybe that can still happen??? What do I have to do to make that happen?!?!? Even just one kiss—

Dream had moved closer, expression and tone full of concern. “Hob?”

When he’d recovered, hesitant and more than a bit bewildered, Hob tried, “I’m sorry, mate, but I don’t—”

“I did not expect you to.” Dream sighed. “His methods are incomprehensible to all but himself. You are under no obligation to be...romantically involved...with me.”

“Nevertheless, I ask that you appear to be. That is the nature of your status as my plus one...that is what my siblings shall expect.”

Okay, so his Friend would hide something that he truly needed to know from him.

Well, at least Dream told him. Hob wasn’t exactly volunteering the fact that he kept missing bits here and there. Beyond that, he also got the feeling he himself was hiding something else, and had been for a while, that he was forgetting about...but that had to be the guilt.

“That’s fine with me.”

(This was still, after all, the first thing Dream had asked of him. Hob really, really, really didn’t want to lose this friendship. And hey, it wasn’t like this was a fanfiction—there was no way Hob would fall in love with his Friend.)

———

They hashed out the details. He found out when (at night in a few days) and where (Destiny’s castle), how he would get there (when he went to sleep, Dream would find him and bring him out of his dream into the Collective Unconscious). He learned exactly how wary he should be of each person and why.

Hob went about his days as normal between then and the dinner. He had the rest of the day and the next off, but on the 3rd of January, it was back to business as usual for his job. Good thing this was dinner, and not breakfast or luncheon.

There was also the New Inn to consider—though he’d hired someone else to run it and never, ever ask who he was or let anyone know they weren’t actually the owner, there were still decisions for Hob to make. Decisions that, as someone living above the New Inn, he had a stake in.

Then, the day of the dinner was upon them.

Dream’s realm, the Dreaming, was amazing. He’d had to go to sleep shortly before 6 pm, not a challenge after living for so long and being in so many wars. The problem with using his techniques for falling asleep quickly was that usually, it gave him bad dreams.

“Where are they?” Hob was naked, opening every drawer in his apartment, but he’d forgotten where he put his shirts. Not a single drawer had shirts or anything to wear on his upper half. “Come on, come on, they’ve gotta be around here somewhere!”

Then he was at his high school. He’d forgotten where everything was, and he was late for his class. “Excuse me, can you give me direction?” Nobody could help him. A clock ticked ominously.

When he finally made it to his room and started class, he realized he’d forgotten what he was teaching. Nothing on his notes made any sense—he’d forgotten how to read his own handwriting. One of his students raised their hand. He couldn’t remember their name.

“There you are.” Dream raised his arm gracefully, and their surroundings changed in a whirlwind of power that buffeted Hob even though it didn’t touch him. When it settled, they were in a throne room.

His jaw hit the floor. He had to turn in a circle, and then do it again, to be sure he saw every inch of the gorgeous place he found himself in. The statues, the arches, the stairs, the stained glass windows, the throne, the King himself—

Ugh. This was happening again. He’d gone hours without missing time, and it had to start happening again right before the important dinner?

Dream was smirking at him. “Is it to your liking?”

“Yeah,” Hob breathed out. “This might be the most beautiful place I’ve ever been in.”

His Friend’s smile widened into a more genuine one. “Is that what you intend to wear?”

“Ah...” Hob looked down at himself. He was clad only in nice pants and shoes. Why—oh, right, his dream. How had he not noticed? Dream had been looking, was looking, at him shirtless—

He cleared his throat and looked up (not at Dream; he couldn’t just let his Friend see his embarrassed smile), “Do you have any—”

“You are in the Dreaming. Anything is possible.”

Oh. Neat. Hob lowered his head again in thought. The first outfit he could think of was one of Harry Osborn’s outfits in Spider-Man 3, where he had on a white vertically striped button-up, then a blue shirt, then a dark brown overcoat. In an instant, he was in them.

He looked up and found Dream giving him a contemplative look. “What?”

“It is no matter. If you are ready, come; we shall go to my brother’s castle.”

———

Destiny towered over everyone else in a long, light-colored hooded cloak. He had a book chained to his right wrist, and his left hand was another person’s hand. “Brother, this is Tobias Indiana. Tobias, this is my brother, Dream, and his partner, Robert Gadling.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Indiana said, extending his hand. He appeared...normal. There was nothing that differentiated him from any other middle-aged man.

Hob shook it with a similar greeting. Dream simply glared at it.

Indiana, for his part, didn’t let it get to him. “Oh, you are a prickly one.”

“Tobias is very eager to show you his art. Won’t you come with us and see?”

Dream glanced at Hob.

“Oh, and your beloved can’t come. Tobias is very shy.” Indiana looked, in no way, shy. In fact, he seemed like a confident, unbothered person. “He wouldn’t be able to bear it if anybody else saw his work.”

It said something about how blatantly Destiny lied that he still managed to get Dream to do what he wanted.

Hob watched their backs as they headed for a hallway before realizing that, without Dream, he was a sitting duck. Sure, he didn’t have to pretend to be infatuated with his Friend anymore, but anybody could walk up to him and trap him in a conversation.

A woman’s voice said, “Robert Gadling.”

Fuck, he was too late.

Hob turned around with resignation to face the woman, only to find that she actually...didn’t seem so bad. She seemed distinctly maternal, despite the fact that most people seemed young to Hob.

The boy that was with her, on the other hand, had no hidden depths. He looked like any other overconfident teenage son of a farmer.

“That would be me, and you are—no, let me guess,” Hob cut himself off when he saw her ankh necklace against her all-black clothing, “Death?”

She beamed and nodded.

“And that would make you Jonathan Geiger.” Wait, Dream said his siblings were romantically involved with their plus-ones. This was a little concerning.

“It’s Johnny,” the kid corrected in a Southern American drawl. “An Ah’m 63.”

Well, that made Hob feel a lot better, but there was an unspoken ‘I’m older than you’ that he couldn't let stand. “I’m over 10 times that.” He shrugged, “When you're as old as I am, there’s no way to know your exact age.”

“Who ya with? Mah gal’s the embodimin’ ‘a Death,” Johnny challenged.

“My boyfriend is all Dreams and Nightmares. He’s basically everything you can imagine.”

“How’d ya get yer immortality? Ah beat the devil in a fiddle-playin’ contest.”

“I just didn’t die.”

“It’s actually because you called me stupid right in front of me.”

Both of them turned to Death, Johnny furious and Hob with the blood drained from his face. “I did?” he asked, in disbelief—not that he’d done it, but that she’d apparently granted him immortality rather than killing him on the spot.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I don’t get mad at words said in grief. It’s human nature to fear my realm. Despite the fact that my siblings’ are much scarier than mine,” she muttered. “I only get mad when my siblings are hurt.”

Death looked at him.

It took a moment for it to click for Hob that he was dating Dream, so this was a shovel talk. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he answered weakly.

“But—hey, listen to me—that goes for you, too.” She poked him in the chest. “My brother has proven himself to be an idiot on multiple occasions, as I’m sure you know.” Somehow, she said it without even a drop of malice. “If he hurts you, you can always call me.”

Hob agreed, “I’ll do that.”

There was a pause.

“Well, we ain’t gonna take up anymore ‘a yer time,” Johnny, the scoundrel, smirked. “I know that gal Delirium’s bin dyin’ to meet ya.”

———

“Hello, Hob! Hobsie! Hobby! Hobert!”

Delirium was a short, thin girl with a high-pitched voice on the cusp of her teenage years. She had untamable hair in a rainbow of bright colors, and her clothes looked like they’d been chosen independently of each other. Those were the only immediate constants Hob could find about her appearance—everything else changed multiple times a minute.

“They should call you David. Or Patrick. Or Nick. Or Charlie. Or Connor. Or Oliver. Or Ian. Or Mickey. Or Yusuf. Or Nicoló.”

What.

“Oh, uh, I’ve stuck close to Robert for way too long to consider changing it,” Hob tried.

Delirium nodded sagely like a little kid.

She was with a Knocker, if he remembered correctly, a little shorter than half her height. He had a copious amount of wrinkles, a somewhat large head compared to the rest of him, a long white beard, and he looked like he hadn’t bothered to change since leaving the mine, complete with a pickaxe in hand.

“What about you?” Hob asked him.

“I’m Pasco,” the Knocker said in a voice just as high as Delirium’s.

Delirium grabbed Pasco’s surprisingly long arm and bounced up and down. “You’re such a Deary,” she told Hob before scrunching up her face and varying her appearance. “No, a dory. A ducky. A bucky!”

“Thank you.” Hob hoped that was a compliment.

She giggled. “You’ve got something on your back.”

“Oh.” Hob looked over each shoulder once. “Not, like, the Trickster Beetle from Doctor Who?”

What? He was British. It was practically instinct.

Her eyes widened and her clothes shifted again. “No! No, don’t worry, that’s already dead for you.”

Well, that was a relief.

“No, smaller. They’re circles.”

He leaned forward, laser-focused on her words. “Uh, moles?”

She shook her head.

“Hives? A rash?” Hob asked desperately.

Tears filled her eyes. “They’re gonna get you.” But then she looked behind her, where a short mustached man in a poncho and an Asian woman covered in blood were dancing. When she looked back at him, her face was blank. “It’s gonna hurt.”

It was only when she and Pasco were walking away that his mind cleared. That...had all been gibberish. Of course, he was sure it made sense to her, but there was no need to get worked up about it. Even if he would get hurt in the future, he was over 650. Hob could handle it.

———

“You’ve been in my realm a lot recently.”

She was a large woman in comfortable clothes with limp, unwashed hair and a large hook on a ring that she was toying with.

Hob had met Dream, Destiny, Death, and Delirium. He didn’t think it was much of an assumption to think he was talking to Despair. “Have I?”

Her quiet voice cut at him, “You shouldn’t be.”

He stared, taken aback.

“If you’re suffering, then so is my brother. He’s suffered enough.” She turned and walked away.

———

Hob watched the door Destiny, Indiana, and Dream had left through. They still weren’t back yet. How long could Destiny’s contrived excuse take?

“Oh, you’re good,” Desire purred from behind him.

Hob whirled around and came face to face with them. His expression hardened. Coming from the one that Dream had warned him the most about, it was basically an insult. “And why’s that?”

They elaborated, “The trick you’re playing on my siblings. You’ve really got all of them fooled. Not even I could manage to fool Destiny.” Desire’s seemingly-permanent smile sharpened as they cornered him, “How are you doing it? Right now, my brother is filled with the most sickening yearning for you, yet you don’t want him in the slightest.”

Well, that was unfair. Of course Hob wanted Dream. To, y’know, be his friend. To do things with him, to open up to him, maybe even give him some physical touch in the form of a shoulder bump or something.

“Not even a kiss,” Desire scoffed. “Nothing about his appearance, while he desperately wishes he was with you. He wants to hold you, kiss you, make ‘love’ to you.”

Hob choked. Dream felt that way about him? He wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He’d been determined to listen to Dream about Desire’s manipulations, but...

Dream feels the same way! Yes! Yes! If we were alone—

“...esting.”

Hob felt the dizziest then out of any time he’d forgotten the past few seconds.

His surroundings had changed. He was alone with Desire, who’d completely invaded his personal space. Their arms were wrapped around his shoulders, face inches from his. When they spoke, and their breath hit his face, his stomach turned.

“Seems I wasn’t quite right,” they hissed. “It isn’t that you don’t desire him. You’ve just been made to forget. Someone’s hidden it from you, and done a very good job of it, but it’s been leaking out.”

Their expression and tone softened. “The spell’s had to do a patch job; it’s been snipping away bits of your memory, hasn’t it?”

Hob narrowed his eyes. He got the impression that they were...trying to comfort him.

It was more than a little disturbing.

He ducked out of their loose hold and stepped back. They’d guessed his recent memory problems—so what? That didn’t mean they were telling the truth (even if his instances of forgetting did, in hindsight, have a clear correlation with Dream) and it definitely didn’t mean they weren’t trying to manipulate him. He was done putting up with the Endless. All of this, he decided, counted as a threat. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to find my boyfriend,” he snapped, and turned (apprehensively) to head for the door.

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

Hob had half-expected and prepared for this. He tried to move to take them down only to find that instead...he really wanted to stay still. Why had he ever wanted to move from this spot?

In the background, somebody spat, “I’m trying to help you, foolish human. As if I was just going to let you keep walking around with all that repressed desire.”

They cupped his chin with their hands and made direct eye contact. “Now, hold still,” they teased, “You’ll feel a lot better when I’m done.”

His ears popped. His senses whited out for a long moment from the pain of a gaping wound in his chest being healed, but not without being reopened first. Hob squeezed his eyes shut to prevent tears from falling as his memories returned to him—he could remember everything, all of his love for Dream.

He wrinkled his nose at an awfully strong smell of something—like a lightning strike?—as he came back to his senses. Then he heard Dream calling his name urgently from far away and opened his eyes to see Dream’s legs. Dream was bigger? No, Hob was kneeling—at some point, he’d fallen to his knees.

He looked up at Dream. He could stay like this all day, just looking up at Dream. (And trying not to wince every time he breathed.)

But Dream was saying something to the person next to him, Desire (they looked pleased). Hob let himself hear his surroundings.

“...you do to him!” Dream was demanding.

“Dream, love, I’m fine,” Hob cut in (only belatedly realizing that the endearment had slipped out). “Desire was helping me.”

Dream’s face could’ve been carved from stone as he turned to Hob. He didn’t say anything, but Hob’s heart sank as he realized Dream didn’t believe him.

He had to fix this. Now that he remembered he loved Dream and he knew Dream felt the same way, the plan was to confess, but he couldn’t do that if Dream thought it was all manufactured by Desire.

Hob clarified quickly, “Okay, it bloody hurt, and I definitely told them not to do it, but I’m glad they did it, really.”

The answer was thunderously directed at Desire, “What did you do?!”

Yeah, so that hadn’t helped. He wasn’t sure why he thought it would. What could he say that Dream would believe?

Desire decided to answer, “Your little pet is telling the truth. His heart was crying out to me...I couldn’t leave him chained up like that.” Their voice took on the evident quality of someone quoting, “You’re the one who told me to serve humanity.”

Dream and Desire started arguing in earnest. Desire maintained a grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat the whole time. Hob wanted to believe them, but could this be their plot? To do something that, technically, was altruistic, no catch, while being so out of line with Dream’s impression of them that Dream would never believe it?

Or, was there pain hidden behind that smile, that their brother was in such disbelief?

Or, was Hob futilely trying to assign human motivations to inhuman beings?

Whatever the case, he wouldn’t let this stand. He would find proof.

Now that he had his memories back, he knew around when it had started. It wasn’t before Mary’s New Year’s party. He even, vaguely, remembered making his resolution (to confess to Dream) before the countdown ended. So, it happened before he got home if he had been supposed to follow through on his resolution when he saw Dream. He’d definitely started forgetting after he woke up.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell when exactly it started on account of him being blackout drunk.

By now the commotion was attracting everyone’s attention (except for Destiny and Indiana, who probably already knew what was going on, those bastards). Well, fuck them. This wasn’t a spectator sport.

“Dream,” he cut into their argument, “please take me home.”

“But you haven’t even had dinner yet,” Desire pointed out.

“I’ve lost my appetite,” he said, not taking his eyes off of Dream. “Please.”

“If that is your wish,” Dream acquiesced, fury still audible in their voice. The world disappeared in a flurry of sand.

———

When his vision stopped turning, he was in the gallery they left from, still kneeling from chest pain.

Dream stood a foot or two away from Hob, arms hanging at his sides, visibly concerned. “Shall you answer me now?”

Hob thought about telling Dream the truth. No, not yet.

“I will, my Friend,” Hob said as the pain diminished and he pushed himself up with the wall, “but there’s something I have to do, first. Something I have to find out.”

“And what might that be?”

Uh oh. Dream looked even more concerned. It was a good thing Hob was going to ask for something harmless and not, say, something that would be guaranteed to end in a lethal injury on anyone else. “I have to know how far your knowledge of everyone extends. How do you do it? How does it work?”

“I am Dreams,” his Friend started, mildly confused, “and Nightmares. I am all Dreams dreamt...by everything that can Dream; I am the Collective Unconscious.”

Apparently, he thought that was a sufficient answer. Hob disagreed—wait. “I thought the Dreaming was the Collective Unconscious?”

Dream looked more awkward than normal. “Perhaps.”

Fuck kind of answer was that?

Wait. If he was right, then earlier...Hob stood by it, of course, but maybe his Friend thought Hob wouldn’t’ve said it if he knew he was actually talking about Dream.

He could fix that later when he fixed everything else. What was important was that, “If this whole world is you, then—I mean, you’re not messy,” Hob reasoned. “There’s gotta be a place where you keep all the information.”

Dream conceded, “There is.”

———

The library was just as amazing as the throne room. It stretched on further than he could see in all three dimensions, lined with books all the way.

What he could not see were signs or maps or labels of any kind.

“How do you find anything?” Hob asked with a vague gesture to the whole library.

He couldn’t tell whether Dream was answering him or calling for something when he answered, “Lucienne.”

A woman’s voice responded before Hob could even comprehend it. “Yes, sir?”

“This is Hob Gadling. You shall assist him in his use of the library’s facilities while I resume my work.”

Prior to Dream‘s words, Lucienne had seemed like a stern, hardworking woman, what with the suit and her hands behind her back. But when he introduced Hob, her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates—though only for a brief second before she regained her composure. She nodded at Hob as Dream left (probably for the best) and asked, “What are you looking for? We have every book ever written, as well as those yet unwritten.”

What was he looking for? There was no way he was gonna just come out and say ‘The person who cursed me.’ What to ask for, what to ask for—

Hob must’ve been silent for too long, because Lucienne prompted, “For example, I have detailed accounts of sleeper’s dreams.”

“Yeah, that’ll work,” he agreed. “Show me my dreams, please.”

It turned out, over 650 years on Earth meant he’d dreamed quite a lot. It was enough to fill several bookshelves, and that was with most people having one of the shelves of a bookshelf dedicated to them, at most. “Er, I’ll only need the past week,” he clarified.

Lucienne handed him the book open to yesterday’s dream. “Do not look at the dream you’re having right now,” she warned. “The ink is still drying.”

Right. Because...he was dreaming. With his senses, his reading abilities, and the laws of physics working correctly, it was easy to forget that he was asleep at the moment. How would the book even record the dream? He imagined himself flipping the page, and words appearing: “I flipped the page.”

Hob shuddered and went further back until he reached the dream he had on New Year’s, right before Dream gave him the invitation.

Oh. It was a dream about him and Robyn having a picnic. Robyn had been telling him a story, in the way only little kids could do. That was...sweet. And also definitely not the kind of dream he’d normally have after getting blackout drunk. Hob supposed if he could stop one of friends from having a nightmare right in front of him, he would do so, too. If only that was the kind of dream he needed.

He looked at the dream for the day after that, then the one for a nap he’d taken, and then all of the ones after that until he reached yesterday’s dream again.

Nothing. Not a single one was about Mary’s New Year’s Eve party.

Hob paced along the bookshelves. Okay, so this had been a long shot from the start. His Friend couldn’t have known somebody had cursed Hob—that was why he was looking for proof in the first place. He would have to do this the old fashioned-way—

Wait, was that Mary’s book?

Hob stopped and set his hand on the wooden shelf underneath the book. Mary, as the host of the party and not someone on the Dream King’s radar, might’ve had a dream about the party.

But...it was one thing for him to look at his own journal, but someone else’s? A close friend’s dreams? She had a girlfriend. He didn’t want to read something he couldn’t unread.

The lights flickered off.

Some soldier instinct of his activated, shooting adrenaline through his system even though all that happened was half a second of darkness.

Hob was berating himself when he realized—part of the library was gone. Not like an explosion, or like a wall had been put up, but like he was in Minecraft and the game was lagging.

“Uh, Lucienne?” Hob called like Dream had called her.

“Yes, sir?” she asked from behind him.

He whirled around, heart still beating like a rabbit’s. “Did you see that?”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “No, sir, but I can tell you’re on the verge of waking up.”

“But I’m not done. I haven’t even been asleep for that long.”

“You’ve been asleep for almost ten hours. You are waking up, sir.”

Hob grabbed Mary’s book. “Can I at least take this with me?”

She shook her head as the world faded to black.

———

He didn’t wake up feeling like he’d slept for ten hours, not the sleep he’d gotten used to in the 21st century, anyway. It seemed no amount of comfort mattered when he was lucid the whole time like that.

Hob was splayed on his back across the mattress dramatically, so he groaned when he caught sight of the calendar he’d put on the ceiling.

It was a school day.

With it being 4 am, he was in no danger of running late or anything, but it would’ve been nice if it was the weekend. He knew at least a thousand kids that would agree with him.

Of course, not many of his kids would feel like someone had taken a cookie cutter, cut out their centerpieces, and then replaced those pieces as painfully as they’d been removed.

Hob took advantage of his early wake-up time by going through his morning routine leisurely, taking any activity that would cause him pain slowly. Luckily, this was something he could do without regret—by the time he was done, it was still sooner than he usually left for school.

Hmm. The kids would be concerned about him. As much as he would usually advocate for caring about others, he couldn’t have them telling anyone about any overt signs of his lackluster health that they might notice.

That meant he had to whip out his tried and true method: Bribery via pastries. Hob dropped downstairs and informed the New Inn’s manager that he’d be paying for any purchases made by anyone with an ID from the school he worked at for the next week.

Understandably, his manager’s eyes bugged out, but they couldn’t argue with the increased business it promised the New Inn, not to mention his long-term resident privileges. Afterwards, Hob left for school to prepare.

Class went well. He might’ve had to sit down a couple of times (and then started to nod off), but the pain lessened over the course of the day, and the kids loved the free food. The end of the school day came faster than he expected (helped by his inadvertent nap during lunch).

That meant, as he was gathering his belongings, with no major problems from his work life, he was free to worry about his personal life, aka the events of last night. How exactly was he going to go about finding who’d made him forget when he couldn’t trust his memories and he couldn’t go to Dream?

Someone knocked at his door. Who would do that when it was already an hour after school had ended for the day?

“Come in!” Hob called.

The door opened and revealed...Mary. Guilt hit him full force (figuratively, thankfully for his chest) as he remembered how he’d debated looking through her dreams. And here she was, probably concerned about his behavior since the party. “What...can I do for you?” he asked with a smile that he desperately hoped hid the shame.

“Robby!” she said cheerfully, stopping on the other side of his desk. (The hair on the back of his neck stood up.) “So glad I caught you before you left. I’ve kinda got something important to ask.”

Hob hid his hands underneath his desk so that she wouldn’t see that he was wiping irrational nervous sweat off with a tissue. “Go on.”

“Well, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about New Year’s. About, y’know.” (He didn’t know). “About our midnight kiss.”

...midnight...kiss...?

There was no way. Surely he would’ve remembered that.

But, as a traitorous part of himself pointed out, he could’ve done it if he’d just forgotten about Dream, and Mary wanted it.

No, no. It just didn’t feel right.

Mary pouted, “I was worried you wouldn’t remember. It’s just, you’re such a great guy, Robby. You’re kind and funny. Hot, too.” She gave him a onceover as she walked around the desk. “Won’t you give us a chance?”

“I...” Alarms blared in Hob’s mind as he wracked his drunken memories and found no recollection of kissing anyone at midnight. In fact, he was rather certain he’d been fantasizing about kissing Dream. It wasn’t a stretch that he might’ve told her about it.

“Uh...” It was a stretch that she would do what her behavior was pointing to.

“Well...” He just couldn’t believe it. Years, they’d been friends. She’d helped him decide what he wanted to do with this iteration of himself, and now she almost ruined his chance at a relationship with the only constant in his life? If Desire hadn’t helped him, he wouldn’t even know.

“The thing is...” It occurred to him that Mary definitely thought her spell was still working. He had no clue how it worked. What if she tried to do it again, right now? Hob had to get out of here.

He had to make sure she wouldn’t do it again. He had to go big. That meant using an underhanded tactic: Guilt.

“I don’t know, Mary,” he breathed out eventually. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’ve just felt off for the past few months or so. Like there’s some essential part of me I’ve forgotten.”

Ooh, it was working. She was pale as a sheet.

“I’ve actually,” he laughed self-deprecatingly, “been having memory problems. Spacing out while talking to people, and forgetting the last few seconds. Haven’t been sleeping well either. I’m worried that there’s something wrong...neurologically.”

Mary had frozen except for a hand she’d moved to cover her mouth. Was that too much...?

No. He remembered how he felt when it first started, and it was awful. If this made her feel guilty, that was her fault.

Hob finished, “And, I just don’t think I can handle a new relationship on top of all of that and school.”

She stared at him wordlessly. When her brain apparently turned back on, she squeaked, “O-of course. I’ll just, um, go.”

———

Thankfully, Hob wasn’t interrupted again between then and when he got home. It was already nearing six pm.

The nap he’d had during lunch had somehow given him enough energy that he wasn’t tired even now. It was a good thing, even if it was an accident, because now he already knew Dream wasn’t necessarily going to talk to him if he just went to sleep.

Instead, Hob was going to try praying first. Maybe it wasn’t possible. Maybe it would go to voicemail. Maybe it would work, but Dream would still ignore him. It was still better than potentially wasting the rest of the night sleeping, and having to wait until tomorrow after school to talk to Dream.

“Dream,” he started, trying to inject intent, “Please hear my words. I’d like to talk to you.”

“Hob Gadling.”

“Fucking—” Hob spun around. Why did everyone always have to appear behind him?

Oh well, he had good things to look forward to in the near future. He gave him a wide grin. “Dream, I’ve found out what I needed to know. What do you have on someone I know, Mary?”

His Friend gave him a scrutinizing look, then closed his eyes. “I shall look.”

He was still for a long moment. Longer than Hob felt like he should’ve been. Then, Dream opened his eyes, and they were full of tears.

His voice was dangerously low: “Mary Cornell...has violated you...irreparably. I cannot begin to describe...” Dream bowed his head.

“Oh, no, no, no!” He couldn’t bear to see his Friend like that. Hob crossed the space separating them in two quick strides and took both of his hands, making Dream look up. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t irreparable. That’s what Desire did; they fixed it.”

He let that sink in as he teared up, himself. “Dream, I love you.”

Hob had the pleasure of watching Dream’s devasted expression turn into one of pure joy before he was pulled in for a bruising kiss.

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acustardduckling · 2 years ago

Text

I got tagged to do one of those memey things by @emeraldhazeart ! I’m going to break the rules and not tag anyone myself but if you’d like to do it, you can say I ‘tagged’ you. its cool!!!

The Rules: Tag (9) people you want to know better and/or catch up with, then answer the following:

Four Ships

oh boy I’m not really a shippy person either ... BUT.

QueenRune

What can I say about these two that I haven’t already?? It doesn’t matter whether it’s the regular universe, or the splatoon universe, or whatever other universe might happen in a fic, I really like these two as a pairing when I’m not paring Alarune with myself

I didn’t go into their initial interactions thinking they’d be a couple, but it helped me discover a lot of things about what I wanted out of Queenie’s character - as well as some things about myself. When authors say that characters ‘have a mind of their own’, it really came into play here.

Alarune also just. Really needed to be loved. While Queenie hasn’t experienced quite the same level of distress, I like to think she understands the place her partner is coming from, and why Alarune behaves the way she does...

Queenie likes to lump on praise, even though she knows it isn’t always ‘deserved’, but she wants other people to see and appreciate the effort Alarune makes, even if that “people” happens to be Alarune herself - letting her know that she knows how much she tries -

UM. ANYWAY. OTHER SHPS. I have lots of OC ships like Nightmare/Evian and Pansy/Groa but I’m going to try and think of some media based ones so people have an idea of the dynamics I like (I guess???) It’s embarrassing bc I have way, way more notps than otps.

Player x Partner in Mystery Dungeon (Particularly Rescue / Explorers / Gates)

Is this a cop-out answer? Am I going to get called names for this one?

I know the whole thing is framed as a really strong friendship, but the absolute devotion the partner has for the player is really sweet. It doesn’t help that they ALWAYS have a moment where the player character “has to go” and you see how absolutely distraught the partner is at seeing them turn into little lights and be erased from existence. It’s okay, though, because they always come back.

They’re an inseparable team, so maybe they can also kiss, as a treat.

Don’t get me wrong, though, I don’t always do ‘shippy’ playthroughs of my PMD games. Sometimes I really am just content with them being friends, you know? But other times it’s just REALLY easy to give them OC names to fill the roles.

Maki x Kaito (From Danganronpa V3)

This game has an absolutely ridiculous ending, like DR2, but I think these two are really sweet together. Elaborating would kind of spoil some of the plot, but basically he’s a motivational goof and she’s stone cold and they both have something to hide.

Wall-E x Eve

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA?????A aaa?A??a?a?a? saaaaAAAAa?a??aa?a? ?a?a?a?aaaa/a//a THE ROBOTS ARE IN LOVE??!?!?111 A AB THE SENE AT THE END??? THE HANDHOLDING??? DIRECTIVE??? THIS IS MASTERPIECE ROMANCE CINEMA YOU CANNOT TOP THIS

AHEM anyway there are other questions:

Last Song: U Sure Do - Strike , embarrassingly enough.

Currently Reading: I really wish I did more reading. The last book I read was Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree, which I really enjoyed (And read in one sitting on the plane). It’s high fantasy with a literal coffee shop AU setting. Its ... soft. Oh, and that has a naturally progressing romance between two of the main girls - another ship that I like! Yay!

Last Movie: I’m going to see the new Mario movie this weekend, but the last thing I watched was The Brave Little Toaster, and for the first time. It was a trip, but I still enjoyed watching it.

Craving: I have a sore throat and could really go for some icecream right now :(

#life of jasmib #tag meme #me additionally going on like 'also queenie bigging up alarune is important bc it comes of a place of love rather than flattery and-#- shes used to cutting people down so its even more special'#'but doing it LIKE flattery is the only way she knows how to do it and so--'

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leorawright · 2 years ago

Note

Mercs with a robot s/o? Preferably they were doing a tour in Man Versus machine and encounter a docile Medic-Bot S/O, they look different from the other robots and even start following the mercs around like a lost duckling that has imprinted on a human and soon the mercs become a bit protective as there is no respawn for bots so S/O is very vulnerable to damage

Lmao they become the merc's personal pocket medic and even start to show some form of affection Like in wall-e where Eve presses her forehead against wall-e and you see that lil spark but it's S/O pressing their faceplate against the merc's in an attempt to give them a kiss

My heart... it's too full

Mercs with robot medic s/o

Scout

At first he tries to avoid you when you start following him

When he begrudgingly accepts your company he may or may not start to fall for you

With you behind him he'll gladly run into battle

He gets so surprised and flustered when you 'kiss' him

(Medic thinks you're an angel since he doesn't have to deal with Scout)

Soldier

He promised that he would teach you how to be a proper soldier

Now he has his own Medic so SUCK IT ENEMY TEAM!

Soldier will always happily accept the 'kisses' you give him

He's also always protecting you no one hurts his beloved s/o

Demoman

He's so confused when you start following him

Then the next battle he's like "Oh are you just gonna follow and heal me? Cool"

He gladly accepts and returns any 'kisses' you give after he's comfortable with you

No bullet will ever touch you on Demo's watch

Pyro

They love being around you as well!

They will have many conversations with you as you follow them during battle

They can't kiss normally either so you two come up with your own system of kisses to exchange

Heavy

He doesn't acknowledge you at first

When he does he realizes how frickin adorable you are

He'll always thank you when you heal him

He's basically a human shield to you so nothing will hurt you

He does get a little blushy with any 'kisses' you give him

Medic

He'll gladly accept your help

He resists adding modifications to you since he doesn't want to ruin his new favorite person

With you healing him Medic can now run into battle and decimate the other team

If you are ever injured Medic will immediately turn around and heal you (He has a special medigun for when you're injured)

Sniper

At first he's annoyed you're following him

Pretty soon he accepts it and starts to get to know you

Aw dang it now he's attached

He tends to rest his forehead against yours to show affection

He always makes sure you're behind the most cover when he's sniping so you're not hurt

Spy

Why do you have to be so cute and clingy!? Now he's in love with you😤

Spy will always come to you when he's injured because you get sad if he doesn't

You're always his top priority so if you're injured frick whatever he was doing he has to help you

He always accepts your 'kisses' with a shy sort of smile

#tf2 x reader #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 heavy x reader #tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 soldier x reader #tf2 spy x reader #tf2 pyro x reader

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natsbaby · 3 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Velvet Room.

This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter, or you know, my masterlist of everything <3

Natasha Romanoff

Cheeseburgers? - 🥺

Henry the Spider - 🥺🕷

Little Spider - 🥺🕷

Heart Beat - 🥺🥲

Whoops.. - 🥺

Angel - 🥺🗣

The Bookstore - 🥺

You’re the Wall-E to my Eve - 🥺

Stars and Rumors - 🥺

For you? Anything - 🥺

Whatcha think? - 🥺

Insomnia - 🥺

Stop Running - 🥲

All Hers - 🥲

The OF Neighbor [18+] - 👀

Nom Noms - 🥺

High School Sweetheart - 🥺⚾️

A long time ago - 🥺⚾️

Sharing is Caring - 🥺

Love like Theirs - 🥲🥺

Staring is Bad - 👀📝

The Contract [18+] - 👀📝

Day for Love - 🥺⚾️

Actions speak louder than words - 🥺🥲

Help Me! [pt 1] - 🥺

Voice Channel [pt 2] - 🥺

The Biker and The Cat - 🥺

Drive Thru - 🥺

Grief - 🥲

Life Before You - 🥲🥺

Kiss Me in the Rain - 🥺

Merry Christmas- 🥺

Scarlett Johansson

You're such an idiot - 🥺🥲 [a little bit!]

Symphony - 🥺🎵

Falling in Love at a Park - 🥺🎵

Used to be Yours - 🥲🎵

Okay? [pt. 1] - 🥺🥲 [a little bit!]

Okay. [pt. 2] - 🥺🥲 [a little bit!]

I Do - 🥺🥲

My Favorite Part [18+] - 👀

School Sucks - 🥺

To a Fruitful Relationship- 🥺

Thanksgiving - 🥺

Moral Support - 🥺🗣

All I want for Christmas is a break - 🥺

Julieta Madrigal

Until I Found You - 🥺

————————

Miscellaneous Fandoms [coming soon!]

Cate Blanchett

Pepa Madrigal

Severus Snape

#natsbaby masterlist #natsbaby song fic series #natsbaby high school au #natsbaby spider family series

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bowandcurtsey · 2 years ago

Note

I'm sorry ahead of time if this is a long request. 🥺

I wanna request (if you have time) for a comfort/fluff story? I am having a tough time this week since I was asked to paint my best friend (who had passed many years ago) as a gift and I'm not handling it too well.

Would I be able to request a LiebeXfem reader comfort/fluff story where she breaks down in pirvate as she's painting the portrait and he overhears her? Something with extreme fluff and maybe a few kisses. If it's not too much trouble. 💓 Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Hi my lovely bby, I'm so so sorry I'm so late, I hope that you are feeling better. (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ It's always hard when you lose someone you love, it's like they took a part of you with them, didn't they? (ಡ‸ಡ)

Anyway, here's your request, and I hope your best friend in heaven gets to see you smile too (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Also, I'm not too sure about the gender of your bestie, so I'll keep it gender neutral ♡

Characters: Liebe x f! reader TW: death, loss, grieving

Your fingers tremble as the tip of the brush reached the canvas. You looked at the sketched out, half painted face, the face you haven't seen in a long while.

"Hey," you whispered to the canvas, "how are you doing?"

You took a deep breath and a sip of water. Did a little stretch and continued the painting. You reminded yourself to keep positive, that this was a good thing, it was a gift.

You filled in their brows and think about how it furrows when they listen to you rant about your problems.

Their e/c eyes, that twinkled when they smiled. Yes, their lips when they smile. It's been awhile since you heard their laughter. The laugh that bounced off the walls of where ever you both were at.

You couldn't take it anymore, the heavy stone in your heart breaking your dam, as the waterworks started. You put the brush down and put your head in your hands, sobbing over like it was just yesterday that they left, your mind replaying all the precious moments you both shared.

A hand patted the top of your head, slowly stroking you, “hey.”

His familiar voice soft like a whisper. It felt like a gentle caress, a comfort for your damaged heart and you sobbed even harder.

Liebe sat beside you and pulled you into his embrace. He was warm and his sweater was soft and smelt like raspberries. Your feelings and emotions intensified as you clung onto him like it was for dear life.

The hand on your head had it's fingers weaving through your hair, helping you tuck those stray ends away from your face so you could breathe in between your sobs. His other arm held onto your waist firmly, so you were snug in his lap.

He pressed soft and gentle kisses to your hair and forehead. Slowly taking your hand in his and planting more kisses on it too. It was until your sobs turned to sniffs that Liebe started to talk again.

"You feeling better now, baby?" His hand cradled your face, slender thumb brushing the remains of your tears left on your cheeks.

You leaned into his palm as you gave a small nod.

With Liebe, you didn't need to explain much. He was smart and he always understood. He simply saw the painting and understood what was going on.

"You hungry?" he gave you a chaste kiss on your lips this time.

You shook your head.

"Hmm, but I am.." he gave you a little pout, "wanna accompany me while I grab a bite?"

"But I need to finish.." you whispered.

"You need a break and I need food, we'll make a quick one and be back to finish together." he said.

He wasn't giving you a choice. As soon as you fell silent, he scooped you up and out of the room.

Your mood was lifted the moment you stepped out and took in some fresh air. The gentle breeze hit your skin and you felt much better again. Liebe was still carrying you, not having any intentions of putting you down.

And that day, you decided to just indulge yourself a little and let your boyfriend spoil you. You stayed in his arms as he grabbed some burger from Charmy's kitchen and sat in the hall to eat. He even fed you some and of course nobody could resist Charmy's food.

You ended up eating your own burger after that and he did keep his promise to accompany you to finish your painting; you sitting in his lap.

Sometimes you felt lost, without a direction in your life. But at that moment you decided that home is in Liebe's arms.

#black clover liebe x reader #liebe x reader #liebe black clover #liebe black clover headcanons #black clover liebe hcs #black clover headcanons #black clover imagine #black clover x reader #black clover scenarios #black clover fanfiction #black clover imagines

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wilfywarfy · 3 years ago

Note

Since idk if you’ve gotten a poly ship yet, could you do Host/Google/Dr. Iplier? Aka, the Smart Bitches

OOOOO, interesting! This is the first poly ship I've gotten, so I'm a bit nervous about it. LET'S HOPE I DON'T SCREW THIS UP!

Part getting together story, part headcanon

Host and Doc were the first two to get together.

No one in the manor was surprised by this at all, considering how much time the two spent together

Host would help Doc with his patients via narrations, while Doc would take care of Hosts eyes and occasional sore throat

So yeah, everyone in the manor wasn't surprised

The real surprise came when later in the day, Google had been hit with a sudden update

Barely any warning beforehand. Google just sat down and was struck with the loading screen.

After hours of updating, Google now had a new task to complete: Learn about human behavior and emotion

With his secondary objective being to destroy mankind, it would be useful to gather up as much information as possible

The most difficult behavior to examine was love, and affection in general

King had affection for his squirrels, Bing loved skateboarding, Yan loved... Whoever was on the list this week. But that wasn't the kind he was required to study.

Google needed a relationship to examine. And Lord knows what would happen if he dared ask Dark and Wilford for permission.

Second choice: Doc and Host

Google was terrified when he realizes that he was gaining affection for Doc and Host. He was supposed to be a killer A.I., unable to feel, love, anything!

He denied it for a while, examining every wire, circut, and line of code in his system for any error. He found none.

When he finally stopped being emotionally constipated, his confession wasn't very glorious.

"I have feelings for you two. I would hope you two have the same affections for me, but if you don't, I will start my memory wipe procedure right now."

"Woah there, Googs!" "The Host is in a state of shock at the thought that Google would ever think that Doctor and Host wouldn't reciprocate."

When they sleep, Doc is in the middle most of the time. The others hold onto their sleepy doctor, making sure he's well rested.

Host is the one that flusters Google the most, which means a lot since Google isn't easily shaken.

But Host knows how to get his fans spinning!

Host enjoys the heat that Google gives off. Doc likes it when Google is cold.

Doc prefers salty/savory foods, Host prefers sweeter foods

Sometimes when Google kisses his partners, a small shock comes out of him. Like Eve and Wall-E. He gets embarrassed, but they just smile.

Smart. Very, very smart. These three could find a way to take over the world with a can of gas, some undisclosed creatures teeth, and a tangerine. It's scary how intelligent these three are together.

Google is scared of his strength at times, so he's extra careful when around his partners. They find it sweet that he cares about them.

"I'll keep humanity around if it means I get to be with you two." "The Host's affection for his partners is unmatched. Indescribable." "You two make me the happiest doctor in the whole hospital."

I HOPE THIS WAS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YA!

#markiplier #mark fischbach #markiplier egos #googleplier #The Host #markiplier the host #dr. iplier #Markiplier Dr. Iplier #Googleplier x Host #Googleplier x Dr. Iplier #Dr. Iplier x Host #Googleplier x Dr. Iplier x Host

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loveydoveylex · 2 years ago

Note

🎫 here's a gush pass ^^ feel free to gush about whichever f/o you want, however much you want, then send this ask to 3 other self shippers!

HIII JIL THANK YOU FOR THE GUSH PASS i will ramble on about pierre my STUPID beloved whom i adore oh so very much <3 putting it under a readmore because. i. am gay and ended up writing much more than i anticipated

HE IS SO. OK first off. for my followers who know absolutely nothing about this franchise!!!!! let me tell you about my love here

pierre is an alternate dimension counterpart of rusty pete (ANOTHER f/o of mine. goofy drunk space pirate) he's a ROBOT and a PIRATE and FRENCH and BISEXUAL and THE LAMEST GUY EVER, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH <3. he prides himself on being SUCH a gentleman (swoon) but everyone thinks he's just kind of pathetic, even his own crew (who have tried to get him executed multiple times for various reasons including but not limited to: having a terrible singing voice, blowing up his own ship, and being a general dumbass)

AND HE REALLY IS A DUMBASS (AFFECTIONATE) i joke about hating him all the time and how dumb he is but I REALLY DO LIKE HIM A LOT I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW TO EXPRESS IT OTHER THAN. THROWING HIM INTO A BLENDER.

i want to KISS HIM i don't CARE that he doesn't have lips and neither does my s/i, i will FIND A WAY we can kiss like wall-e and eve do with a little spark of static <3

i think he would try to act super charming and suave with me but actually turn into the biggest softie in the universe if i even as much as Tried to reciprocate his advances... it'd be SO CUTE!!!!! also he would totally call me by the cheesy french petnames he always uses, he would call me mon amour and mon petit chou and i'd giggle at how super corny that is but actuallyget incredibly flustered i am flustering MYSELF imagining him calling me. mon amour... 😳😳😳

there is this one dialogue from him when you're fighting his crew on molonoth he laughs and goes "so tenacious! je t'adore! our looting was so boring until you arrived, so merci for livening things up!" anditMAKES ME PHYSICALLY BLUSH I JJJJJUST. HEART SO FULL OF LOVE ALL FOR A FICTIONAL MAN. JE T'ADORE?!?!?!??!? god and his voice is SO CUTE I COULD LISTEN TO IT ALL DAY i just . I just! H!!!!!!!!!

#DON'T LOOK AT ME DoN'T LOOK ME IN THE EYES I AM WEAK AND VULNERABLE #💞💗💕💖💝💌💝💝💗💖#asks #jil-reblogs #💙🏴‍☠️ gentleman extraordinaire 🏴‍☠️💙

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valdomarxxx · 3 years ago

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Trying something a little different today for @whataboutthebard. Another tale. Another life, one that was lived by other people*. On the subject of sex pollen. Consent is freely given. A grand total of 3k words. Rated M/E. Enjoy, my darlings.

There is a shining golden band around Oswald’s finger. This is a recent development, and everywhere he goes people ask him about it. He wishes they wouldn’t. He should be happy, he knows; should be full of that fizzing, new-love excitement.

But he feels nothing. It had been a suggestion, paired with gentle pushing from his mother and significantly less gentle pushing from his father. He should have said no, he knows. He’s a bard, for fuck’s sake, he should have followed his truth or his desire or whatever the fuck it is artistic types are supposed to do.

But he didn’t say no. He said yes, because all he could think of was what the alternative might be. A life lived in solitude, forever. He’ll never have what he wants - who he wants - and perhaps it might not be so bad. Perhaps a loveless life shackled to another will be better than a loveless life alone.

The band squeezes his finger, cutting off the circulation.

It is Belleteyn eve. This should be the night for celebrating love. He’s horribly aware of this; and horribly aware that his fiance is elsewhere this evening. He should be more upset about that than he is. He wants to be alone.

He wants to be with him. Larkspur, they call him. It’s what he calls himself, having shrugged off the name his parents burdened him with when he was born.

Usually, Belleteyn is celebrated with bonfires and dancing and singing, mingling with crowds. Tonight, a party of perhaps a dozen artists have snuck from the city walls towards the forest a few miles beyond. They say that magic happens on Belleteyn night, and while there are a few cynics amongst their numbers, it promises to be a wonderful evening.

Larkspur leads the way - he’s well-versed in magic, he claims, thanks to his travels up and down the Continent.

“Who knows what could happen?” He trills, looking over his shoulder at the group. “Anything could happen.”

His gaze lands on Oswald. Often, that gaze is mocking or antagonistic. A threat. A challenge. Today, it’s like a question. Oswald doesn’t have time to probe before he’s looking away again with a laugh - a floating, melodic noise that makes Oswald’s skin tingle.

He nervously fingers at the band around his finger. His fiance has never met Larkspur. She would hate him. She would really hate him, not just in the way Oswald pretends to.

He’s struck with the sudden urge to tear away the maddening ring and hurl it into the Pontar.

But he doesn’t, of course.

The forest beyond the city is wide and dark and sprawling. Oswald cannot help but feel nervous as they step between the trees, looking for seasonal chaos. He sniffs cynically at Larkspur’s assertions that anything could happen; he is sure he knows what will happen. Drinking and laughing and singing. He has already picked out the couples in the group that he is sure will sneak away for more traditional Belleteyn celebrations, and he is not amongst them.

They are seated on fallen trees, passing around a bottle of mead, when there is a hand on Oswald’s shoulder. He looks up. It’s Larkspur, eyes shining in the low light of their tiny bonfire.

“Come with me,” he says.

Oswald sniffs. “You’re going to lead me into the forest to murder me,” he says. “To be rid of the competition before next week’s contest.”

Larkspur grins, his teeth shining. “You know me so well,” he says. He turns away. “Are you coming or not?”

Oswald passes the bottle to their nearest friend. He stands. “I want it known,” he says, “that I want a dignified death.”

“Noted.”

The forest is dense enough that the chattering of their group fades away eerily quickly. It is dark - yet not too dark - and the odd silence is oppressive. It seems they can both feel it, and slip easily into bickering to fill the quiet.

“Perhaps you intend to do away with me,” Larkspur teases. “It would be easier to kill me than win by your own merit.”

“You invited me out here,” Oswald spits, pushing past him and taking the lead. “Unless I tricked you into that, too?”

“Perhaps you did. I would not put it past you. You used some psychological trick on me to lure me here.”

“Hmm.”

“You surely have nothing to fear,” Larkspur says, “only last week you said I had no talent. Does that not make you confident that you will win?”

“I will win,” Oswald says, pushing aside a branch and pausing to allow Larkspur to follow before letting go, “and on my own merit, not because I eliminated the competition. Besides,” he edges through the trees, “I didn’t say that you were untalented, just that you were— oh.”

He stands in a clearing perhaps a few meters wide, the leaves and debris beneath their feet giving way to soft, springy moss in an unnaturally bright green. The trees here are green, too, covered in sprawling vines, the leaves shimmering. It smells of honey and syrup, of living things. Larkspur bumps into him from behind, equally enraptured.

Surrounding the edge of the clearing - bursting from the vines and hanging from the boughs and even sprouting from the moss - are hundreds of enormous flowers.

For all the world, they could be enormous daffodils, although Oswald has never seen daffodils in these colours. They glow, like sunlight is seeping from them, the air around them shimmering with heat. The one closest to him is a vibrant cerise, the corona darker and the petals fading to a pearlescent blush. He reaches out, desperate to feel it, to see if it's as warm and soft as it looks.

It is. It feels alive beneath his fingertips, and as he brushes his hand across the petals the flower shudders, as if responding to him. Little motes of pollen shake on the tip of the stamen like water droplets dangling from a rooftop.

“Have you ever seen anything like this?” He breathes, keeping his voice low.

“No,” says Larkspur, taking a step towards the one closest to him, the petals an iridescent green colour. “Never. They’re…” he reaches out too, stroking the corona with a single finger. “They’re incredible.”

There’s a breeze, carrying with it the smell of sap and applewood. The precariously clinging pollen shivers, then gets caught on the wind, dancing like dandelion seeds. A speck of it lands on Oswald’s doublet, staining the baby-blue silk yellow.

He brushes it away with a little sniff. He feels warm, like his clothes are suddenly too tight, suddenly aware of all the places the silk and satin touches his body. There’s a minute noise beside him, and he turns - Larkspur is staring at him. His eyes are wide, his pupils huge and round and black.

“Are you all right?” Oswald says. “You look… different.”

There’s a florid flush spreading up Larkspur’s cheeks. His chest, neatly framed in the vee of his unbuttoned chemise, is equally pink.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he says. “I—”

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence. The wind picks up - unusually turbulent for the season - and the flowers around them shake and they’re both suddenly caught in a cascade of pollen, the dusty clumps raining down on them like sweet-smelling snow. Oswald sneezes as it flutters around him, sticking in his hair and tickling his nose. When finally the wind stops, they’re both coated in a fine yellow powder.

It tingles in every place it touches his skin. He feels…

He feels hot all over. Like the fever he contracted when he was a boy, but different. Better. The fever made him feel shuddery and sick, but this… this makes him feel like his skin is lit up, like he’s made of fireworks, the butterflies in his stomach transformed into birds. He can smell the pollen on him, sweet and heady. He can sense Larkspur standing beside him in a way he couldn’t before. He can feel the space he takes up, sense him moving as if through the vibrations in the air.

Oswald looks back at him, his brown hair turned golden. His lips are parted. His tongue - pink and probing - licks at his lips, taking some of the yellow flecks with it. Oswald is struck with the desperate need to taste; to taste him and the flowers, all at once.

They both step forwards together, brightly-painted mirror images of each other. Oswald is no stranger to desire - certainly no stranger to desire for this man - but now it's heightened. The feeling he’s been able to repress for a long and painful decade is now unstoppable. Holding it back would be like trying to stop a tidal wave with his own body: it would batter him, drown him, drag him along regardless.

Larkspur says something. It might be Oswald’s name. He’s too lost in the way his lips move to hear the word.

He forces himself to focus, despite it all. There’s a look of recognition on Larkspur’s face.

“I know what this is,” he mutters, lifting his hands to examine the pollen. Each word sounds like it takes a considerable effort to say. “Eric told me about them last Belleteyn. We were near fae country, and he said…” his eyes go a little unfocused. “What did he say? It only blooms this time of year. It’s powerful. Magical. He told me to avoid it, that I shouldn’t touch it, because the pollen…” he blinks, and Oswald realises there’s dust in his eyelashes, too, clinging like absurd tears. “The pollen is a— a—” he snaps his fingers, frowning. “It’s an aphrodisiac. I told him he was being stupid. I said—”

He looks up. Something shifts in his expression. “I said…” he trails off, unsure.

“Lark…” Oswald says. It’s barely more than a whisper, an exhale.

And then they’re kissing. He doesn’t know how it happens - one moment they’re staring at each other, and the next they’re locked together in a desperate embrace. They’ve kissed before, of course, but this is different. Larkspur sucks at Oswald’s lip, his hands tangling in his hair, and Oswald melts into him, like they’re one person instead of two.

It feels like it could last forever, until Larkspur makes a strangled noise and pulls away, throwing himself backwards, colliding with one of the flower-covered trees. His lips are red.

“We can’t—” he gasps, hand scrambling at his chest. “It’s not right, not like this. It’s not real.”

Oswald’s fingers tingle. “It feels real.”

“But it’s not. I cannot—” Larkspur closes his eyes, pressing his hands over them, taking a deep breath. “It’s not right. I will not—” a short, choking breath, “—I will not take advantage of you because of some stupid fucking flowers.”

“How are you taking advantage?” Oswald shoots back, the tingling growing into an ache, into a burn. “Tell me how.”

“You don’t want me. It’s the fucking pollen. You don’t want me.”

“Yes I do—”

“Don’t say that!” Larkspur is shouting. Pollen falls, dislodged by his yells.

The tingling, rushing, scorching feeling twists around something else in Oswald’s chest - something hard and rusted over. Something he’s forced shut for too long.

“I’ve wanted you for years,” he says, and he’s shouting too, “Of course I have!”

“You’re engaged!”

“Unhappily!”

Silence descends. It’s the first time Oswald has said that out loud. No one was supposed to know. No one was ever supposed to know.

“What?”

He tries to swallow it back, but something has taken over his tongue, and he can’t. “I do not want it,” he says in a rush. “I do not— I tried— but I don’t…”

“You don’t love her?”

Oswald shakes his head.

“You… you want me?”

He nods.

“You want me, or you just want to fuck me?”

His boldness sends a heat to Oswald’s belly, stirring his prick, quickening his pulse.

“I…” He finally regains control of his tongue. “I just want to fuck you.”

[Liar.]

Oswald steps forward. Larkspur is pressed against the tree, but he could flee if he wanted to. He could step aside. He could push him away; they both know he’s stronger. When their chests are pressed together, he sighs. Oswald can smell him: mead and spice and lingering magic.

Larkspur moves first. It isn’t as torrid as before, and he kisses slowly, cautiously, his lips pillow-soft and moist. Oswald lets him into his mouth, sliding his eyes shut, allowing himself to be moved, making himself pliable.

They’re on the ground. The moss is spongy beneath them, soft as a featherbed. Larkspur leans over him, his knees to either side of his hips, and tugs away Oswald’s doublet. He’s moving faster now, and the seams tug, but Oswald doesn’t care about the stitches and the silk when Larkspur is looking at him like that - like he’s going to eat him alive. The doublet is thrown aside, between the darkness of the trees, where it—

[Vanishes. Forever. I never found it again]

—melds into the shadows on the ground beyond the clearing.

Oswald cannot bear it. He surges up, pushing Larkspur back so they’re face to face, tearing his doublet up and away. He doesn’t even pause before he gets to work on the thin undershirt beneath, pulling it over his head and tossing that away too so he can finally touch.

Larkspur’s hairy skin is hot as coals, sheened with sweat. Oswald brushes a thumb over one of his nipples, and he gasps and bucks against him. He pulls his own chemise away too, so he can better feel Larkspur’s skin against his own, so they can touch in all the places he’s desperate for them to touch. Larkspur strokes his hands down Oswald’s arms, tickling in the bend of his elbows, leaning forwards to press open kisses to his forearms and wrists.

When he gets to his hands, he pauses. Larkspur is still straddling him, and he twists their fingers together. He tugs Oswald’s left hand closer, never breaking eye contact.

He sucks his finger into his mouth, slowly. Oswald can feel his tongue pressing against the underside of the digit, wet and unbearably warm. He slides further, taking Oswald’s finger fully into his mouth, until his teeth chink against the gold.

When he pulls back, the ring is gone. He grins, and it’s shining delicately and obscenely between his teeth. He spits it to the ground, where it lands on the moss with a soft thump.

[I remember the argument about that. I lost it, I say. In the woods. I don’t remember how. She asks if we fucked. I cannot find it in me to lie. She ends it. I laugh.]

Oswald leans back. Larkspur follows. The pollen sticks to their sweaty skin like paint, smearing in sunshine streaks across their chests. When Larkspur kisses him, from his lips to his jaw and down his chest to his stomach, he rises again with gold daubing his mouth like a smirking god. When they kiss, it blurs between them. It tastes like spring.

He wants to know how Larkspur tastes, too. All of him. As they kiss, he twists around, spinning their twined bodies so Larkspur is pressed to the moss beneath him, hair splayed and eyes wide. He grins up at him. He laughs, and it’s like music.

Oswald kisses all of him he can reach. His fingers desperately scramble at the waistband of his awful burgundy breeches - the ones he hates - and soon he’s pulling them away. Larkspur is magnificent. Oswald is a poet, he should know the words for this, he should put it to song and sing about him until the sun sets for the last time… but right now all he can think is how much he wants.

When he takes Larkspur in his mouth for the first time, he swears into the sacred space, his hands gripping in Oswald’s hair.

[Did you know you bruised my scalp? I didn’t care. I didn’t tell you, either.]

Osworld works him till he’s a panting wreck, till he’s close and begging, then he stops - rises - slides kisses up his skin. Larkspur gasps into the kiss, slipping his hand between them, finding himself blocked by the fabric of Oswald’s breeches.

“Get rid of these,” he pants. It’s the first thing he’s said in half an hour. Oswald does as he’s told, for once.

When they’re both naked, sprawled on the verdant forest floor, there is a moment of stillness. They’re absurdly coated in pollen, hair in tangles, eyes dark. There is a bruise forming on Larkspur’s neck in the shape of Oswald’s teeth.

“Fuck,” Oswald breathes.

“Yeah.” Larkspur agrees.

Oswald takes him in for a moment, despite the tickling urge in his hands to reach out and finish what they've started. He may never get to do this again.

[I will never get to do this again.]

“You look sad,” Larkspur says, suddenly breaking him from his thoughts.

“I’m not sad,” he says.

[LIAR!]

Larkspur tugs him down. “You think too much,” he chuckles. “You’ll make your wrinkles worse.”

He kisses him soft. He kisses him hard, reaching down between them again, taking them both in his hand. Oswald buries his face in Larkspur’s neck, tonguing at his skin, taking short, laboured breaths as he draws them both out.

It’s hands. Mouths. Fingers slick with spit. They kiss until they cannot breathe any more. They crest together, like the sun rising, as pollen scatters in the air, catching on the wind of their words.

“Fuck, Jaskier Larkspur—”

“Valdo Oswald—”

Afterwards, they lay sprawled on the ground. The flowers still glow, casting them in their warm, comfortable light. They’re in the middle of the forest - full of monsters and dangers that Larkspur can ramble about for hours - yet they’re safe, here. Nothing can reach them in the clearing. This is Belleteyn, after all.

The magic really is powerful, just as Eric had warned Larkspur last year. Even as they lie curled together, regaining their breath,Oswald can feel the urge creeping back up his chest, the press of Larkspur’s naked body against him thrilling him again. He can fill his sensitive cock stirring in interest once more.

“Lark—”

It’s all he manages to say before he’s being kissed again.

Belleteyn night is long, and full of secrets. This is one they can keep. The next morning, they emerge, rumpled and marked in yellow streaks. Their friends ask where they’ve been, when they find them early that afternoon. They peer at each other, but keep their mouths shut.

Next Belleteyn, Oswald is on the coast, and Larkspur is travelling with his— with Eric. The flowers in the woods fade. Oswald wonders every year if they’re still there. He never goes back to check.

#what about the bard #sex pollen #*This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons #living or dead #or actual events #is purely coincidental.#it is a good job i wrote this #before i opened this second bottle #dont you all agree

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