#2.6k

[collectivecloseness]

I’m just imagining Eddie walking in on you and stobin ‘getting up to things’ when you’re with the fruity four. Without him and poor Nancy!

*sighs dreamily* oh the fruity four my loves...

Sharing Is Caring

Fruity Four x reader

“Well well well... What do we have here?”

Eddie leaned against the wide open door frame to your bedroom. Inside it was dark, only a lamp in the corner on, but it was enough for the three inhabitants of the room.

On your bed, you were laying naked. Looking like a goddess of Greek legends, to Eddie. And with their mouths attached to one boob each, both notably still mostly dressed, were Robin and Steve. Who seemed to harmoniously be sharing your chest. Both now glowering up at Eddie from where he stood smirking.

Those two friends were very good at sharing. Of course all four of your lovers were, in this relationship, and so were you. But Steve and Robin definitely seemed to pair off occasionally to share you. As did Nancy and Robin. Or Steve and Eddie. Or Nancy and Steve! A number of mixes. All with very different styles of sharing in their own ways.

Robin gave a burst of breath as she latched off your left nipple, closest to the doorway as she bored at Eddie, with not a very impressed look in her eyes. “Go away Eddie.”

“Yeah! Get out.” Steve joined forces, before going right back to lounging on your other nipple. His eyes open and innocent up at you, as he mouthed hungrily over your breast.

“You three were keeping so quiet!” Eddie announced humorously, still not bothering to close the door, even an inch, spreading light into the room and your devoured form. “Trying to keep her away from me, and poor Nancy before we got back from work?”

Eddie finished around the same time as Nancy did on Wednesdays, and every other Tuesday, so he usually picked her up.

Eddie now lowered one hand to motion at you, his eyebrow raised as he kept up his coolness. “Did our highness, in all her loveliness, agree to be hidden away?” Eddie asks, the others not bothering to respond. Robin wasn’t even looking at him as her hands grabbed and fondled your tit hungrily, her mouth still moving with no intention of stopping, ignoring Eddie completely. Steve was still lightly scowling at Eddie a little, but he always looked back up at you with those same wonderous eyes, happily sucking on your breast without a care what was happening.

Eddie walked only a step into the room, but he made it clear he was speaking to you now. Something that was sparking a small fire in your chest, with his large brown eyes playfully right on yours, while Robin and Steve still selfishly sucked and grasped there. Your chest hammering below them. “I don’t know if someone as exquisitely bewitching as you can not be yearned for. Don’t you languish for me, your simple boyfriend, too sweetheart? Am I not allowed to play? Am I to be thrown away like so many others, and not be able to worship you in all your beautiful glory? Do I-“

“Eddie will you shut the hell up! I am trying to focus!” Robin loses her patience. When she accidentally goes back down on you, she bites your boob in her frustration. Causing a small gasp of pain from you, that she quickly apologises for. Brushing over your tiny marks with her soft hands, hushing you as she kisses it better. When she starts lapping it better with her tongue, with kitten licks, it definitely starts to make you feel a whole lot better.

Eddie, however, feigns hurt. His hand on his heart. And then he winks at you, making eye contact with you, and Steve, as he starts again. “Well if you need to focus you’re not doing a very good job.” He quips back, laughing when Robin doesn’t even bother to revolt.

But before Eddie can finish his romantic plea again, you raise your hand out for him, your other brushing Steve’s hair as your eyes beg for your other lover a little. Even though it’s hard to pay attention, when Robin and Steve are pinning you down with their mouths alone. “Hey. There is somewhere else you can put your mouth. Somewhere that’s free right now.” You offer, excited at the way his eyes light up. And especially how his tongue eagerly licks at his lips, in subconscious anticipation. God Eddie’s tongue thing was cute. And not even the tongue thing you were hoping he’d move onto in a second.

But right after you’d spoken you had looked down to your two other lovers. Robin first, then Steve, to make sure they were okay with Eddie’s participation.

Robin grumbled something, and Steve, who apparently heard her, agreed with the sentiment. “Yeah. He can kiss my ass.”

“Don’t tempt me Harrington.” Eddie raised his brow at him. But as the others, slightly begrudgingly but too enamoured to care much, went back to their task at hand, both of them humming around your tits as you carded your hands through their hair, something that made you sigh in pleasure, Eddie checked over his shoulder. And then, he yelled for Nancy.

“Yeah?” Nancy jogged up the stairs, a smile piqued on her face, hand bracing against the doorframe as she looked to Eddie, and then her eyes met with the room. Specifically, with you.

Robin and Steve both looked over now. They still kept grazing around you, you didn’t even need to be able to feel it, since the mouthing sounds rang through the quiet room, but they both met Nancy’s eyes, with a tad more curiosity than they had Eddie. And after Nancy had finished her glances at them, oh was her tight smirk devilish in the glow of the hallway, the way she swayed on her feet so innocently, but how she eyed you up like a piece of meat... it made you shudder. Something your two lovers clinging onto you, stroked your naked chest over. And you couldn’t tell if Nancy had seen your reaction, or if she was smiling more deviously between you and Eddie just because of the scenario alone.

“Oh. I see we’re having a party.” Nancy spoke slowly, teasingly. Her tone always able to get that more subby side of you out. She smiled oh so politely up at the other in the door. “Are we invited Eddie?” She asked him. Even though at this point, Steve and Robin were both having to hold down your legs, with their free hands, that you were bucking for both your other lovers.

Eddie crosses his arms, smiling back at her in a shared way. “Well I suggest we party crash.” He shrugged.

Nancy hummed. “Good idea.” She was cut off by a whimper from you, both of them looking over at the way Robin and Steve were having to use their own legs to keep you down now. Their mouths around your breasts becoming even more intense. Robin was sucking hard, one had clawed on your under boob, and staying there. Meanwhile Steve was sinking his teeth around your breast, his tongue frantically trying to swirl around your hardened peak. Both of them panting slightly with the effort, to enjoy their selfish time as much as possible, while keeping you down, and for themselves.

Nancy largely ignored this fact, making you whine for them again, as both her and Eddie were only looking to each other, just glancing at you, and your paramours.

“You think they’ll provide entertainment and a feast?” Eddie asked Nancy with a toothy smile, getting another hum in return, as well as her thought out answer of “If there’s enough to go around. I’m sure our lovely partners aren’t going to be that greedy.”

Robin mumbled at this. Pulling you closer, but not away from Steve, who she was still amicably sharing with. One hand latched protectively over your waist, as her other gripped the side of your boob she was now only heavy breathing over. Steve scrambling just that inch closer, hugging your side with such adoration and ease. Her leg was thrown over your bare one, and she nosed at the side of your chest as she had to lick her lips before she could grumble, seemingly having spent all of her spit on your boobs. “I wanna be greedy.” She said, not too loud, but somehow being stern, and slightly whiny, although you’re sure the latter wasn’t on purpose. She immediately went back to you when she was done, and you gently brushed her cheek as she did so, her look far off and stubborn, as her mouth moved about to latch again and again onto your breast, the plush of her tongue flattening against it with each new angle she tried.

You could tell by her darting eyes, and the way she clung to you more desperately, she could hear Nancy walking into the room. And while you, and Steve, looked up at her so wonderously, especially now Eddie was following behind, Nancy only gave you a greeting little smile and jovial raise of her shoulders, as she set her sights on Robin. She gently stroked her hand through the blonde girls locks, something you could tell Robin liked, leaning into it even as she stayed adoring over your boob. Your hand joining Nancy’s in her hair, by brushing Robin’s forehead at the same time.

“Now.” Nancy spoke cordially, moving by your head so Robin only had to look up to see her, which she did so. Mouth still bobbing around you. “Surely you’d like to share some of my attention too?” Nancy asked, with a hand delicately to her own chest. You didn’t miss how it was aimed just askew enough from her heart, to be just more poignant on her actual chest, just subtle enough for Robin’s lusted out mind. “If you can be soooo good and let me share y/n as well?”

Something that Robin, while definitely not letting go of you, seemed to be accepting of. Easily falling under Nancy’s soft, and sweet, and calculated dom tone that got you all.

But Steve on the other hand, was rapidly kissing at the side of your chest. Pecks smushed all over you there. Speaking more to himself, but alerting the others to the fact “Need to make y/n feel so good...” The mission of actually pleasuring you, instead of letting you just lay there. Causing a shiver up your spine as you suddenly had the singular attention of all four of your lovers, dedicated with the shared aim of making you feel good.

“I don’t know. I could ogle a bit longer.” Eddie scratched at his jaw while keeping an intensely charismatic eye contact with you, that you just couldn’t look away from. His tongue poking the inside of his cheek playfully, before setting out to stick out his mouth again, hanging onto his upper lip with exuberance.

When, even with the insane pleasure of two of your lovers desperate on your chest, and the other two riling you up so badly, you couldn’t help but gleam back at Eddie, biting onto your lower lip to stop a moan Robin and Steve were threatening with their depraved suckling, Eddie grinned even deeper back. You could see it in his eyes, how much you were making him glow right now. Followed by another very loving wink.

“Perv.” Robin and Nancy say at the same time, although with drastically different tones. It does get both girls to smile at each other though, Robin going slightly red as Nancy strokes down her neck more this time, a sweet and approving smile on her face.

“Then why do you need to share? Great! More for us.” Steve forlorns, something that Eddie very much does not agree with. Giving a pinch to your boyfriends ass, who still doesn’t rip himself away from your boob, just slapping Eddie’s hand away.

But those two still seemed to be attached to your boobs like gremlins. So Eddie let them be, with his own ideas in mind. Sitting on your bed by your thighs, narrowly avoiding Robin’s legs clung to your body, as he stroked your stomach up and down. “Hi.” He smiled, thankful to be sat with you. Grinning with a soft tickle to your stomach, as you give him a perky “Hi” back.

Once you’ve finished giggling (after giving Robin and Steve a quick earthquake), Eddie looks up to Nancy, who’s taken her own seat on the mattress, by your head, caressing your hair now. “You want her mouth, or pussy?” He asks genuinely, only looking at Nancy for her answer, even though his slow but affectionate stroking of your inner thigh was driving you insane. With how much Robin and Steve had been just blissfully zoned out, but with the new accompaniment of your teasing lovers, you’d been being given foreplay for what seems like forever now.

At least that problem got solved very quickly. As Nancy made out with you so egregiously. Her tongue dipping into your mouth with her constant moans that you just had to drink, there was nowhere else to go with her swallowing you like this. Her lips ruby red with how long she’d been kissing you, tongue occasionally poking out, to smooth over your lips. Eating your face, however she could. Your frequent whines swallowed by her, making you even more needy as you didn’t know if the others knew just how desperate you were. High pitched sighs leaving your lips that Nancy kisses up eagerly. Her lips brushing against your tongue, before licking hotly at your own with hers. Her teeth yanking your bottom lip, until she goes to embrace your tongue again.

Steve and Robin are still at your tits. Both lavishing over the one they have each, and very happy with their share. Their mouths hot and still somehow so wet, lapping and sucking over your chest, with as much devotion as they can possibly manage, as they nearly pass out from pleasure. But simultaneously, have really kicked it up a notch to be so sexual, so depraved, so caring about how wet you must be because of them, as they all work together on you. Something so special.

And below, Eddie’s on your cunt. All their mouthings and more added up to the love Eddie was devouring your cunt with. His long tongue laved and stroked up your pussy. Scooping up your slick, and tonguing around inside you. Lapping wetly with the plush of his tongue all over your outer cunt. Flicking against your clit in every which way, before his lips moaned and messily suckled hard against it, making sure to vibrate against you with his hungry moans of pleasure. His lips nibbling lightly at your clit, before going back to loudly kiss at it. Making out with you from down below, covering you with kisses, as the others were doing everywhere else. There was no escape from Eddie’s mouth. You could feel the breaths of him laughing against you, and he had your thighs wrapped under his still leather clad arms, Robin and Steve still keeping your body down, as Nancy kept your head where she wanted it.

And you writhe, with all four of their mouths, their lips, their tongues, on the most loving parts of you. Wondering what it must look like, if someone took a picture of you right now. How all of you was encompassed by one body, solely devoted to you, on each part. How all four of their appreciative, and real moans, are squashed against the skin of your flushed self. Your body held in the embrace of all four of your lovers.

[i4sullyoon]

◌˳ ⁺ 🎞、TYSM FOR 2.6k+𓂃 📿⌇⬞ 𑁍.

hi everyone! sorry im late but thank you all so much for 2.6k !! i cant believe this omg ☹️💘 im so happy for all the love & support i have for my blog! please support my other account @i-yunjin! thank you all sm & see you all at 3k 😭💞

[stevebabey]

Steve hates to ask this of Eddie.

Really, it’s a last resort sort of thing. Robin’s gone for the week, some trip upstate with her family. And it’s fine, they’re close but Steve’s a big boy. He can handle a week without his best friend.

But, well, it’s just unfortunate for it to creep up on Steve when Robin’s gone. It being… shit, how did Robin explain it? She was so much better at keeping track of all those things than he was, all the terms filed away nicely in her head to be recalled as needed. Steve’s much messier— in his head, in his life.

Touch aversion, that’s what she called it. A by-product of the severe lack of touch in his childhood she had said; not enough hugs, hand holding, the works and now Steve’s grown to find it too strange. Something prickles under his skin, pulls in his gut all the wrong way, when someone’s too touchy-feely with him. Robin’s said it’s normal, and he believes her.

It just makes it harder when this comes by. That completely strange backward want that carves into his chest, creating a chasm that just aches. Suddenly, Steve wants to be touched, needs to be touched — like something behind his ribs is just begging for comfort in the form of touch, any way he can have it. Like some young part of him can still remember the hunger he had for it and it comes back in full force, a tender wound between his lungs.

It doesn’t happen that often — though, it’s more frequent than ever recently — but usually, Robin’s here. She can almost always tell before Steve works up the courage to ask. Twitchy fingers give him away. He hovers closer than normal, shoulders brushing more often.

She always gives him a smile, softer than her usual snark and says, “C’mere, dingus.” and stands on her tip-toes to envelope him in a hug. Steve can’t help but sink into it, gripping her close around the waist for as long as he needs until the hole in his chest feels a step closer to patching up.

Robin also tells him he can have as many hugs as he’d like but Steve is firm with himself; he only needs one, then he’ll be back to fine.

It what’s he needs now. One really fucking good hug. Still, he hates to ask, least of all from Eddie, because, well— okay, Steve has no reason to assume Eddie wouldn’t give him a hug.

He’s seen Eddie’s hugs before. Like everything he does, Eddie puts his everything into it- he hugs Robin til she wheezes, loves to lift Nancy off the ground, and the hug he gives Dustin is sweetest of all, a hand on the back of the littler’s head while he does some strange little sway. Dustin always laughs, playfully shoving him away by the end but Steve knows he loves them, that it helps in more than one way.

Steve is glad that Dustin has someone, besides his Mom of course, who can hug him, because Steve can’t give that to him. Maybe one day, but for now, hugs from Steve are a rarity — few and far in between. Maybe, he thinks, he doesn’t want to ask Eddie specifically because of that niggling feeling that comes up around Eddie, all gooey and soft. A feeling the swings too close to a crush that Steve has no fucking clue what to do about.

So, he hates to ask. Really. On the drive over to Eddie’s, a hangout organised before Steve started to feel the lack of touch creep in, he runs through any other options. Wait til Robin gets back? Steve’s not sure he’ll make it another 4 days. When left alone, it seems to consume him and make everything harder, everything heavier to deal with.

He’s still tossing it when he climbs the steps to Eddie’s trailer. Steve decides that he’ll see how it goes, see if there’s an opening to ask…semi-naturally or something. He’s not gonna spring it on the guy.

Eddie is wonderful company as always, devilish grins and god-awful comments about the film he picked. Steve feeds off it, drinking in the infectious energy. He tries to let it be enough; their shoulders pressed together, Eddie’s knee knocking his when he laughs, the way Eddie leans into his space to whisper even though it’s just them here tonight. Steve wants it to be enough. But even then, he can see the way his hands twitch in his lap, desperate for more.

Steve closes his eyes. Curls his hands up so tightly his nails bite into the skin. He tries to use it to wane off the feeling, the ache that sings out for Eddie beside him and it nearly works. Until—

“Steve? Y’okay?” Eddie’s voice pipes up, making Steve open his eyes in an instant.

“Hm?” Steve hums, hoping that his casualness will be enough for Eddie to skip over his peculiar behaviour. He blinks, tilting his head just a bit to show he was confused why Eddie was asking.

Eddie chuckles lightly, gesturing towards Steve’s lap, where his hands sit still clenched, white knuckled with his self-restraint. “You seem a bit stiff, that’s all.” Eddie rechecks. “You good?”

Steve opens his mouth and then closes it, forcing his hands to unclench in his lap. “I-“ he begins, then stops, unsure of what he was going to say. He did say he would look for an opening tonight. The way Eddie’s regarding him, open faced with his concern, is as good as he might get.

“This might sound a bit weird,” Steve starts, defensiveness already tingeing the words, his shoulders curling in just a bit. Eddie could say no. He’s allowed to say no. Steve really doesn’t want him to. “Like, if you think it’s weird, that’s totally fine and we can just, like, forget I said anything and—”

“Steve.” Eddie cuts him off, a linger of an amused smile on his lips. “I don’t think I’m going to find anything you say weird, sweetheart. Shoot. What’s on your mind? What troubles the great mind of Steve Harrington?”

God, it’s like a whole bunch of words designed to set Steve’s head spinning. ‘The great mind of Steve Harrington’ makes him want to scoff. ‘Sweetheart’ makes him want to swoon. He can’t decide which one he wants to do more.

“Can I-” Steve stammers, the words halting automatically. It’s too much of a habit to swallow them down. Coercing them out takes more work. He stares up at the ceiling as he grits his teeth, releases a harsh sigh, pulling himself together. “Can I… have a hug?”

There a moment of silence and Steve holds his breath.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, and Steve takes his eyes off the ceiling to see just what that Oh means. Eddie’s smiling, a soft one gracing his pretty mouth, and Steve thinks, maybe, one day he’ll have the courage to ask for a kiss as well. Relief moves sluggishly through his veins— Eddie’s smiling, this is good.

“Well, of course,” Eddie grins widely and opens his arms, inviting Steve in. Steve hesitates for only a moment before he leans in gratefully, his arms tucking around Eddie’s midriff tightly. Eddie’s arms curl around Steve’s neck, pulling him in close. It’s the easiest thing in the world, sinking into it, so much that Steve tries his best not to immediately slump against Eddie. It feels a bit too pathetic, so Steve reels himself in. He can’t make his arms relax, trying too hard to take only what he needs and not a moment more.

“C’mon, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice teases beside his ear, his breath warm. “You call that a hug?”

He squeezes Steve a little tighter, pulling him even closer and Steve can’t help the way he melts into it— he slumps, leaning against Eddie properly and burying his quiet whine of relief into the juncture between Eddie's neck and shoulder.

“There we go,” Eddie murmurs comfortingly.

Eddie takes him wholly, gives a damn good Munson hug, all warmth and comfort. He smells like, well, Eddie — a lingering scent of weed, something musky, something Eddie. His arms around Steve’s neck shuffle and Steve worries he’s trying to pull away so soon, only for one of his hands to tangle in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. He combs through, light fingernails scratching at Steve’s scalp and shit, Steve really can’t control the noise of contentment that slips out his throat.

“Can’t believe you got so worked up just to ask for a hug,” Eddie tsks, tone coloured in disbelief. Steve makes a noise of protest, trying for a moment to wind it all back in but, like Eddie can sense it, he’s squeezing him tighter again. He begins to rock them, a soft sway side to side that lets Steve lean on him even more. He hums a tune Steve doesn’t know, low and soft.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbles in reply, though he’s not entirely sure what he’s apologising for. For having to ask, for taking so much, for enjoying Eddie’s arms around him just a little too much.

“What the fuck for?” Eddie laughs lightly, one of his hands beginning to drum against the divots of Steve’s spin. It feels like he’s tapping pure delirium with each fingertip, shivers that make Steve’s chest glow terribly warm. It feels good, so good to be held and honestly, Steve could stay here all night if Eddie let him. Knowing Eddie, he would, because he’s that fucking nice.

That knowledge alone forces Steve to sit himself up, extracting him limbs even though so much of him mourns the warmth, the touch, that goes with it. He wants the touch but he’s had enough. Some scorned part of him burns bitterly to think Eddie would give him more just to be nice. Steve doesn’t want that— Steve wants Eddie to touch him because he wants to.

“Sorry, man, I just, uh, get like that sometimes.” Steve feels the need to explain, bringing a hand up to rub at one of his eyes. He does it half so can hide his embarrassed expression from Eddie— who’s looking at him so gently and still so so close.

“Just, aha—“ Christ, it wasn’t this awkward telling Robin. Steve’s hand moves to rub the back of his neck. “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile since,” He gnaws on his bottom lip, something alike to humiliation curling in his gut. “Since I’ve had some touch. Usually, Robin’s around but y’know.”

He waves a hand, huffing another awkward laugh. Eddie hasn’t moved much, just listening intently, his brows ever so slightly inching closer together. He looks outright concerned at Steve’s next words.

“It’s okay, I’ve— I’ll be good now.” Steve nods along, like the motion will help him convince himself as well as Eddie. He’ll be okay now. Usually, one hug is all it takes. He ignores the surging tidal-wave want that is still going, still aching to be held by Eddie again. It would be selfish to ask for more. Eddie didn’t invite him around to hug— it’s weird, and Steve shouldn’t- can’t ask for more.

“Sooooo,” Eddie draws out the word, an impish smile beginning to play at the corners of his lips. He opens his arms wide again. “You don’t want another hug?”

In his lap, Steve’s fingers twitch. Eddie’s eyes dart to them for a second, before fixing back on Steve. He does, he really fucking does want another hug. He can’t. He’s had enough, really, it would greedy to have more.

Steve shakes his head, forces himself to huff another laugh that accidentally comes out as a strained sigh. He smiles weakly, “No, no, I’m good, dude. It’s… I’m okay, swear.”

For a moment, Steve thinks he’s convinced him. Eddie studies his face, his mischief slipping away as he deliberates Steve’s words. His eyes narrow, arms dropping just an inch before he smiles brightly and says, “Okay, can I have a hug then?”

Which, okay, right, Steve didn’t think of that. People don’t ask him for hugs. He blinks, a bit dumbly. Eddie is waiting, face eager and for a second there’s an expression of almost smugness on his face — like he’s about to get exactly what he wants. Because he knows Steve would never be rude and say no.

“I mean,” Steve breathes, voice a bit tighter than he’s expecting. He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you can have a hug.”

“Great!” Eddie replies and he wastes no time. He’s all up in Steve’s space, arms around Steve’s waist this time. The motion takes Steve by surprise, enough that because he’s not expecting it Eddie’s weight pushes him back so he’s lying on the couch.

If Eddie cares, he pays no mind, his head curling up into the crook of Steve’s neck as he hugs him closer. His hair gets in Steve’s mouth, making him splutter for a second, but Eddie just grins, wriggling closer until they’re pressed firmly against each other. Steve would go as far as to say this is closer to cuddling than a hug, with Eddie squishing him from above, his arms around Steve’s middle.

“Just so you know,” Eddie’s voice rumbles from where their chests are touching, his breath sweeping across Steve’s neck. Steve shivers without meaning to, feels Eddie’s responding grin even as he continues. “All hugs requested by me are automatically 10 minutes long. Hope you’re okay with that, sweetheart.”

Steve isn’t stupid — he knows Eddie is doing it for him, doing it because he could see right through Steve’s stupid facade, had peered his yawning hunger for touch right in the face and hadn’t blanched. Instead of feeling tricked or fooled, Steve just feels…warm. Comfortable. He works his arms around Eddie’s neck til their more comfortable and find the courage in him scrape his fingers through Eddie’s hair— like he had done to Steve. Eddie’s sighs sweetly and Steve thinks he could listen to that noise forever.

“I’m… I’m okay with that.” Steve murmurs lowly, yet he knows Eddie can hear him. Eddie noses closer, a borderline nuzzle against his neck, and further down, one his hands starts to stroke softly up and down Steve’s ribs.

Steve can’t help the way it makes him freeze, the breath in his lungs holding tight as he tries to relax, tries to ignore the prickly feeling under his skin. It’s a lot. A lot of touch that Steve just isn’t used to just yet, even if he desperately craves it.

“Relax,” Eddie whispers into his skin, a soft instruction paired with the motion, one soothing stroke up and down his ribs. Steve pushes the breath in his lungs out, forces the tension out of his body, trusts that Eddie wouldn’t be offering— wouldn’t tell him to relax if he wasn’t allowed to.

“That’s it.” Eddie praises, feeling the body beneath him settle and sink a little lower into the couch. “Now, watch the movie.” Eddie instructs, jutting at the still playing screen with his chin. Steve laughs a bit, but obeys, turning his head to see what part they’d gotten up to. They’d missed a big chunk in their hug. Steve nearly apologises for it, the words on the tip of his tongue, before he decides Eddie might smack him for it.

So, he doesn’t. He watches the film, let’s the gentle touch of Eddie on his skin relax him til sleepiness starts to fill each of his limbs, heavy like lead. Eddie’s hand stops moving eventually, when his breath gets heavier, lulled by Steve’s scratch in his hair. A snore starts up, loud and quite frankly, annoying, and yet, Steve finds that with Eddie’s arms around him, he has no trouble finding sleep.

It’s the first time in years Steve’s fallen asleep in someone else’s arms. And even if he doesn't know it yet, it’s certainly not the last.

now with a part two!

[withahappyrefrain]

Tonight You Belong to Me

Summary: A surprise reunion has you and Bob trying for something much earlier than anticipated. Not that either one of you is complaining about it.

Warnings: Strong breeding kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, creampie, language

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Your eyes fluttered at the sound of your pets getting off the bed. It was the one main drawback of allowing three cats and a dog to sleep with you.  

But it also made the bed a little less lonely while your husband was away. 

Normally, you'd ignore the disturbance and go back to sleep. But the opening of your front door, along with the mewls and barks, jolted you awake. 

This wasn't a break in. Someone familiar was here. 

You quickly got out of bed, wearing only one of your husband's T-shirts. The wooden floor was cold against your feet, despite it being in the middle of summer. 

"Hey guys! Shhh, don't want to wake your Mama up," a familiar voice said from the living room. 

As you entered the room, you couldn't help but rub your eyes to see if you were sleepwalking. 

Because by all means, your husband Bob shouldn't be in the living room. He should be several hours away in Fightertown, working on his current mission. Not in your living room, petting the animals you two had adopted over the years. 

Bob looked up, a smile lit up across his face at the sight of his wife. 

"Bob?" Your voice was small as you stepped forward, still not sure whether to believe the sight in front of you. 

He stood up, walking over to you, "I was trying to avoid waking you up. Wanted it to be a surprise." 

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. The scent of sage flooded your nostrils as your husband wrapped his arms around you for the first time in nearly two months. God how you missed that scent- the clean, clear, calming scent of him. 

"We were given tomorrow off, so I took the first flight out. Rooster was able to help me make it. Only have a little less than twenty-four hours, but I figured it's better than having to wait another four weeks before I could see you again," Bob explained, smiling from ear to ear. You made a mental note to text Bradley thank-you later. 

Deployments never got easier, though it was something you had longer accepted that came with being in a relationship with Bob. You were proud of your husband, that he had been chosen for such an important mission. But you would be lying if you said you didn't miss him, didn't worry about him every hour of the day. 

"It could be just an hour and I wouldn't care," your voice cracked as he rested his forehead against yours, "I missed you." 

Bob nodded his head, closing the gap between your lips and his. You were thankful he had his arms around your waist. It was always the first kiss back that left you breathless, knocked the wind out of you, made you feel like you were floating. 

"Well now I'm here to do whatever you want," Bob told you before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

"Anything?" You ask, a coy smile forming as you fiddle with the collar of his khaki uniform. 

"Anything." 

You pressed your lips against his jaw, your fingers twirling the curls at the back of his neck. God you loved it when he went without gelling his hair. 

"I take it you'd like to go to bed, though not for sleeping," He said with a sly smile. 

Over the years, Bob had become more bold. It was never a question of not wanting you. He wanted you the moment he first laid eyes on you. But Bob, ever the gentlemen, never wanted to make you uncomfortable, never wanted to assume. 

Which is why it took three dates before you two shared your first kiss. It was also why you had to literally drag him into your apartment to indicate you wanted Bob in a more physical way. 

But now, all he needed was a slight nod from you. That was all it took for him to wrap his arms around your thighs, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. 

You always forgot how strong he was. The man was able to do two hundred push ups, it made sense. But it still took your breath away how easily he could pick you up and toss you around if he wanted to. 

Not that he would. At least, not without your permission. 

As your back touched the mattress, your hands reached out, trying to hold onto your husband. 

"I have to close the door," Bob chuckled, "Otherwise our lovely animals will think it's a sleepover for all." 

"Yeah, we've established that neither of us are into being watched," You grinned, "Though, you definitely get off on the thrill of getting caught."

Your husband blushed as he closed the door and began unbuttoning his shirt, "I do not-"

"Need I remind you of the time you insisted on doing it in the bathroom when I went to visit you on base during your last mission? Or how for our first anniversary, you took me back to the library we met in and-" 

The salacious stories were cut off by Bob pressing his lips against yours. You sighed into the kiss, happy to feel his body on top of yours again. 

Your hands gripped the white undershirt he was wearing, desperate to pull him closer. The burning desire you had for him was nothing new. It always felt like this when he came home after being away. You would be genuinely surprised if you two left your shared bed for the next sixteen hours. 

"Robby," You whined into his mouth as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Bob's hips grinded against yours. You knew damn well what that nickname did to him, how it made him absolutely putty in your hands. Always had, always will. 

"Whatcha need darlin'?" He asked, sliding his fingers underneath your (his) shirt. 

"Want you to put a baby in me, Robby," you whined. 

Bob's hands stilled as he looked up to you, his eyes darkening. 

It wasn't the first time you two had talked about having children. In fact, you both had agreed that once he got back from his current mission, you would start trying. In the time Bob's been gone, you've gotten off birth control. Something he was very aware of, as it was one of the details you used when you two spoke over the phone, trying to get each other off with just your words. 

But was there anything wrong with starting early? 

Bob didn't think so. He also didn't need to be told twice. In record time, your clothes were removed and for once, he wasn't fumbling with his belt. 

His lips latched onto your neck, biting and licking as he used his hands to spread your thighs apart. 

"Gonna taste you first, okay? Then I'll put a baby in you, promise darlin'," He assured you as he moved down your body, settling in between your thighs. 

You opened your mouth, ready to tease Bob about how babies were made. That comment died in your throat, a moan replacing it as soon as you felt his tongue lapping at your folds. 

It was no surprise that Bob was precise and quick with his fingers. It made sense, considering his role as a WSO. You just didn't think those skills would translate to the bedroom. 

Early on in the relationship, you were proven wrong. Very wrong. The way he angled his fingers so it hit that spot with every thrust had you falling apart in record time. Even his tongue, fuck, you missed his tongue. 

All you had to do was look down to come undone. Those big, wide blue eyes, the loose curl that had fallen over his forehead, the askew glasses, that fucking smirk you could feel against your soaked core. 

You grabbed fistfuls of his sun kissed hair, your hips bucking into his mouth as you came. 

It hit you like a hurricane. Eight weeks doesn't sound long in theory, but it is in fact, a very long time to go without your husband's touch. Pictures, phone calls, and FaceTimes didn't compare to the real thing and never would. 

Bob, ever the gentleman, continued to use his mouth and fingers on you through your orgasm. He never hid how much he enjoyed watching you fall apart. The way your back arched, how your head fell back, how you grabbed whatever you could find to hold on for dear life. 

He could spend hours in between your thighs to see that sight over and over again. But there were more pressing matters now. 

“Robby,” you found yourself whining, hands extending out to grab onto whatever part of him you could reach. Your vision was blurry, awareness of your surroundings still hazy. 

“I'm right here, I got you," His lips brushed against your temple. 

"I'm gonna put a baby in ya now, okay?" He cooed in your ear. 

"P-please." It was normal to be desperate, near feral-like for him when he came back from missions. 

This was different. 

Bob must have felt the same way. Normally, he'd eased in, allowing you to adjust little by little. A gasp broke from your lips as he entered you swiftly.

A hissed escaped your mouth as your body became familiar with his once again. He always gave you time to adjust to the stretch, practically cradling you while he whispered soft praises. 

"Doing s'good for me." 

"Feel amazing darlin'."

"Gonna make you a mama." 

It was the last sentence that set you off, ignited the near primal urge you had. Your hands clawed at his back and shoulders, desperate to cling onto him, longing to feel him move inside of you. 

Bob's hands trailed down to your thighs, grabbing them and pinning your legs against his hips. The new angle caused a slight thrust.

You arched your back, trying to chase it, your legs wrapping themselves around his waist. 

"Robert William Floyd, I swear to God if you don't move, I'll-"

Your threat went unspoken, thanks to Bob swiftly pulling nearly all the way out and thrusting back in. A near-scream erupted from your lips, one that would get you dirty looks from the neighbors the next day. 

If it was anyone else, you would have wiped that smirk off his face. But it was Bob, your husband, and you loved seeing that smirk adorn his face. You loved seeing him confident and relishing in the effect he had on you. 

Lord knows how long it took him to realize you were absolutely head over heels, completely and utterly smitten the moment you saw him in that library for the first time, on the floor, explaining his ribbons to a student of yours. 

You buried your head into the crook of his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin. Bob groaned at the sensation of your teeth marking up his neck. Normally he'd care, pull you away or direct you to a part of his body that was easily covered by his uniform. 

But right now, visible hickies were not at the forefront of his mind. You were. The whimpers you let out when his cock brushed against a specific spot, the way your fingernails dug into his back, and most importantly, the way your walls tightened as he kept going, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again. 

Yes, the main point of this interaction was for him to come inside you. Bob knew that, he wasn't dense. 

But it would be a cold day in hell when you only came once while in bed with him. 

He hitched one of your legs up higher, enabling him to thrust into you deeper. A high pitched whine fell from your lips, the pleasure from the new angle rushing through your body, adding pressure to that knot in your stomach that was getting tighter and tighter with each passing second. 

A stream of incoherent prattle fell from your lips, begging him to keep going, to not stop. 

“Let go darlin’,” He grunted, “I got ya.”

You opened your mouth, though no sound came out. White hot pleasure coursed through your entire body as your walls tightened around your husband’s cock, clinging to him as if he could slip away at any moment. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” A sense of pride filled you. Bob didn’t curse when he was hundreds of feet up in the air, focused on keeping himself and his pilot alive during the mission at hand. 

No, he only cursed when buried deep inside you as you practically milked his cock. Only you could bring that out of him, no one else. 

“Robby, come inside me,” You whimpered, “Wanna make you a daddy.”

Somehow, despite his brain short-circuiting, Bob began thrusting into you harder and faster than before. You couldn’t tell what was louder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours or the bed frame jamming into the wall with every thrust. You could feel yourself clenching around him still, jolts of pleasure still igniting your body, making it difficult to come down from your high.  

Not that you were complaining. 

His hips began to stutter, the pace becoming jerky and uninhibited. Bob gripped the bed frame, his dog tags now dangling over you. The metal of his tags and wedding ring glimmered against the light from your nightstand. 

With a guttural curse, he came inside you. You always made it clear how much you loved the feeling of him filling you up with his seed. But this time, it felt carnal, prurient, other-wordly. 

For a moment, you two laid there, tangled up as you tried to steady your breathing. Bob got on his knees, gripping onto your thighs. He began to pull out. 

You gasped as you felt him thrust back into you. 

Fuck, he was still hard. 

“Just gotta make sure nothing spills out, okay?” You nodded your head, gripping the bed sheets so hard you would be quite surprised if there wasn’t a rip in them the next day. 

“You’re gonna be such a good momma, y’know that?” His praises set your head spinning. 

“Wantyourbaby,” You muttered, impressed that you were capable of saying something coherent at this point. Bob was too. 

“I know,” He cooed, “You’re gonna look so pretty, carrying our baby.” 

His hand went down to where your two bodies met, his thumb drawing circles on your clit. At this point, the volume of your voice wasn’t a concern. The only thing you could focus on was that your husband, Robert Floyd, was determined to fuck a baby into you tonight. 

You came again with a cry, Bob silencing it by crashing his lips onto yours. Your hands tangled themselves into his hair, tugging on his locks for dear life as you moaned into his mouth. You could feel your teeth clanking against his, spit dribbling from your mouth. It was primal, something you loved seeing from your usually reserved husband. 

His hips stilled and you could feel his cock twitching as your husband emptied inside you again. Bob’s stamina was impressive and not what you had originally expected from the shy, timid WSO when you two first met. 

“You okay?” Bob asked before pressing his lips to your forehead. You nodded your head, loosening the grip you had on his dark blonde locks.   

He pulled out, your core aching at the emptiness. Not that you felt it for long. 

"Robby!" 

Your hands gripped the bed sheet as his fingers curled inside of you. 

"Can't let any drop escape sweetheart," He reminded you, that stupidly attractive smirk adorning his face as he leaned down to latch onto your clit. 

If it wasn't for his schedule, you would be hoping that it would take some time to get pregnant, since this was how Bob planned to go about it. 

You could always take your time with child number two. 

[br4tphobia]

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა · 𝒱𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒 ! 19 · spoiler (n)sfw aot + tlou blog · blk writer · cis men dni !! · requests · open/closed

abby and ellies slut .

ᝰ 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴 ⋮ 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 / 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 ⋮ 𝘮𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ⋮ 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈

“ are ya scared yet? ”

© theemrsjaeger/br4tphobia 2023 ! hey, do not plagiarize, copy, or repost anything i post, nor steal my themes! minors pls be careful and read the rules before interacting!

[sentientstump]

mindless

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

Harry’s life was full of low days.

Since the war with Voldemort ended in a truce, admittedly, those days have lessened. For a while, Harry found himself breathing easier, waking up each morning lighter, sometimes even finding the will to peacefully drift off to sleep at night, not a single nightmare.

Yet always, the low days persisted.

Depression, Hermione had insisted. We should get you a mind healer. They’ll do wonders in helping you talk things out and foster natural coping skills that simply everyone has—

But Harry didn’t want people in his head. Voldemort already had a permanent little home dugout in there; hell, Snape was bad enough when he tried to teach Harry occlumency. There’s no way he’d put himself through anything similar.

So Harry did what he did best when the world became too much; isolated.

There was comfort and torture in his solitude with equal measure. Time was too abstract. Midnight and afternoon blurred until it was simply boiled down to: I’m awake now. He didn’t take visitors but allowed the occasional floo call and owl. He supposed that patronus counted as well since his wards couldn’t deflect them.

But there was only so long Harry could hide away before his status and the demands of the wizarding world came knocking.

Nothing was ever done. His opinion was always needed. And try as Harry might to siphon off responsibilities when people weren’t looking, they’d almost naturally work their way back to him. Like a damn boomerang, or better yet, a homing missile set on destroying Harry with its inevitable return.

He didn’t have the answers they were searching for, or at least never the right ones. And Harry was so used to being a disappointment that by now, he thought these small things wouldn’t get to him like this. Yet they always hurt in new and unexpected ways.

With a sigh, he cast another noise-cancelling spell on the floo, refreshing the old one. Harry was all too grateful that Grimmauld Place only had one connection, given its age and state of disuse. And given Harry’s tendency to lose himself in personal projects, making him forget about the floo entirely. Very handy, that.

It was the perfect place to hole up even if over the years, people had started to realise this was where he scurried away to. Being one of the few Black Ancestral Homes left, its reputation was nothing to laugh at. Unrealistic horror stories about the townhome were told without much levity, completely different from how Sirius had narrated them to Harry.

But not everyone was so foolish as to believe a few tall tales and stay the hell away.

For starters, Hermione, Ron, and all of the other Weasleys definitely didn’t give a rat’s arse about it. Living in the house and cleaning it for almost an entire summer made it lose all of its dreary, potentially murderous charm. So they frequently tried to swing by and only stopped when Harry finally warded the door and stuck a note to it, requesting they give him some time and space.

Honestly, Harry thought the wards weren’t even enough to stop Hermione. Hence the note. He knew she’d respect that, at least. Though it had been a few months since then…maybe six? Which would probably explain the renewed vigour in the frequency of the floo calls. The calls Harry was still ignoring.

Maybe the wards were stronger than he’d thought?

He’s broken from his musing by three sharp raps at the door. The very proper kind, one that used the knocker and everything. No pounding fists and shouts.

Harry started, unconsciously taking a step back. He’d stopped silencing the door after he put up the ward, its barrier just encompassing the front step. So a knock meant someone had finally gotten past it. Speak of the devil, and she shall appear, Harry sighed.

But when Harry opened the door and readied to speak to someone other than Kreacher for the first time in half a year, his words died all too quickly. His mouth hung open, and no sound could escape.

So he stared.

And continued staring.

Until finally—“Might I come in, Harry?” Voldemort asked.

What was one supposed to do if not stupidly nod and hold the door wide open to invite Voldemort in? Because if there were something else that could’ve been done, Harry would like to know. To armour himself for next time.

Next time?

Voldemort swept in like a maelstrom of robes, holding a small bundle of something. He took in the overall look of Grimmauld Place with slight bemusement and remarked, “You’ve changed it.”

In Harry’s defence, six months was a long time, and he ran out of things to do on day three. Tearing apart the stately dreadful everything of Grimmauld Place was the best way to fix that. Kreacher hadn’t been on board for the longest time but eventually caved when Harry had worked himself to magical exhaustion one fraught afternoon expanding the library.

Knowing all of this and the extent to which Harry had gone for it to look even half as acceptable, he could only passionately agree. “Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

And maybe he was asking the wrong person because Voldemort frowned like Harry had made a particularly tasteless joke. “No. There were most likely decades, if not over a century, of history in these halls. Changing it is akin to burning it all down.”

Harry crossed his arms, “Or maybe I’m making my own history. Leaving my own mark and magic on these walls. I doubt a few structural and design changes will really do anything.” Harry scoffed, offended at the implication that he hadn’t treated his home with respect. It also irked him, funnily enough, that Voldemort might not like his preferences. He’d worked fucking hard, dammit.

Voldemort stayed silent, slowly assessing Harry from head to toe and back again. He relented, “I suppose it is… cosy.” It looked like it had physically pained him to say it.

“Whatever,” Harry shook his head. “What are you even doing here?”

Voldemort raised a brow, “Am I not allowed to visit my Horcrux and see if it’s fairing well?” He turned his back to Harry and wandered deeper into the house, poking his nose (and wasn’t that a marvel after so long seeing him without it?) into the newly painted and freshly refinished dining room.

“Uh. No. You are not.” Harry followed after him with a brisk pace, “And I’m not your anything. We’ve talked about this.”

And they had, at length, talked about Voldemort’s odd obsession with Harry’s Horcrux. Because that was what it was: Harry’s. It had been with him longer, literally lived as a part of himself. It would die without Harry, which practically made it a limb. Not that he needed the damn thing…though, it would be very odd to wake up one morning without its silent weight and sharp, jagged lines down his forehead and temple.

It would be even odder to be without the occasional glimpse of Voldemort’s thoughts and feelings that sporadically entered his mind whenever they were loud and forceful enough to make it past his constructed barriers.

Regardless, they’d talked about this. Harry’s Horcrux wasn’t like some pet or kid they had shared custody of. Voldemort couldn’t just drop in unannounced to do welfare checks or whatever insane nonsense thing he deemed reasonable enough. He acted like he’d come over one day to find Harry dead on the floor or holding a basilisk fang to his head—ah, well, that last one might have been truer some years back.

Voldemort only hummed, its vague tone merely implying he’d heard Harry and not that he’d agreed. His steps took him into the parlour and back out into the entry hall. “You’ve not been answering your floo,” he stated and started to make his way up the stairs by the time Harry looped back to him.

“Hey! Hold on a second-!” Harry called after Voldemort, only to watch him ascend to the first floor with little care for anything Harry was spouting.

Incredulous, Harry practically chased Voldemort around his entire home. From the drawing room to the guest bedrooms to the study and, inevitably, the library. Voldemort opened every door he came across—even the cloakroom!—like he wasn’t invading Harry’s personal space and rudely giving himself a tour.

Harry wouldn’t say Voldemort had done so with any decency, but he had stopped once he caught sight of the new library. And even though Harry was miffed and, for some reason, still hesitating on calling upon the wardstone to remove Voldemort forcibly, he was pleased that this room seemed to hold Voldemort’s attention long enough to make him pause.

After all, the library was Harry’s biggest undertaking and still wasn’t actually complete. There were a few nooks he had to sort out, not only for himself but for Hermione and maybe even Luna, for when he’d finally break out of his isolation and let them over. Its deep forest green was a nod to the Black Family’s Slytherin roots which paired nicely with the polished silver hardware on every sconce and metal accent.

The black leather couches could also be an aesthetic choice, but really Harry only picked them because they reminded him of Sirius. And he’d never say that out loud for fear of over-inflating Padfoot’s already abnormally large head.

Voldemort carefully walked through the shelves and trailed his fingers along their fine wood grain. Once he came upon the darker, moodier books with more personality and bite than books ought to have, he stopped and lifted his hand. He was rubbing his fingertips like a mother-in-law looking for dust. “It was once a deep maroon, did you know? Long before Orion and Walburga laid claim to the home. It was Arcturus the second, Orion’s father, who owned the house before him and had married Melania Black née Macmillan, a fiercely ambitious Gryffindor with a soft spot for cursed books.”

Harry watched as Voldemort started perusing the titles; he continued, “Lucretia often spoke about it, her mother’s prized library. Sensible rumours implied the woman was quite depressed after the wedding and requested the colour to adjust better to newly married life.” He turned back to Harry, “The other rumours, not so sensible, spun tales of the Black Family’s Library and spread like a fine duvet. Stories of how the walls were smeared thick with muggle blood and of the dark rituals that were required for the home to maintain its perfectly fresh hue without even a hint of an iron smell in the air. They were told to the younger Slytherins like a ghastly bedtime warning.”

Then Voldemort walked up to Harry—too close—and tilted his head down, his lips just a hairsbreadth away from Harry’s ear, “Between you and I, there may be some merit to them.” His breath tickled the side of Harry’s neck as he huffed a small laugh and stood straight once more. “Or it was all merely a power play by the entire Black Family. At the time, five of them walked Hogwarts’s halls together, and what a clever little tactic to establish superiority and cultivate fear that would’ve been.”

Say what you will about Voldemort, Harry sighed, his arms crossed. He certainly knows how to give a compelling monologue. He was confident he could leave a cardboard cutout of himself here for days, and Voldemort would go on and on and on, none the wiser.

But, Harry couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly. It was nice to hear.

“I didn’t know,” Harry replied and took one giant step back. “It was so mouldy in here that the walls were some kind of lumpy grey colour. I tried scraping the gunk off with severing charms, but it was a lost cause.” He shrugged, “They could’ve been red.”

Voldemort’s pleased look fell at Harry’s words. Harry couldn’t blame him. Gunk was not great imagery. No matter how accurate. “Well? Enough about the ‘good ol’ days’, old man. What do you think of my handiwork?”

Harry delighted in Voldemort’s scrunched-up nose. “You insolent child.” With a final glance around the library, he acquiesced, “It is acceptable.”

“High praise from the mighty Dark Lord,” sarcasm dripped from Harry’s tone. His thoughts shifted when he suddenly remembered, “And how did you know I haven’t been answering my floo?”

Voldemort looked very unimpressed, “Naturally, I tried to use your floo address and was promptly rejected. Your muggleborn friend seemed up in arms, ready to storm the castle if you will, because she hadn’t been able to breach the wards you erected.”

“What? When was this?” Harry couldn’t believe he’d somehow managed to block Voldemort’s floo access. Thank Merlin.

“That doesn’t matter,” Voldemort quickly sidestepped Harry’s question. “What matters is the amount of torment I’ve been subjected to because of your sudden disappearance for months on end.”

Voldemort was quiet for a moment. “And Granger mentioned you may be depressed.”

That previous shock, the one Harry had found himself in when he’d opened the door to Voldemort and his new pretty face and stupid nice hair, came flooding back. Harry’s body slumped with the surprise, arms uncrossing, utterly at a loss for words.

“I’m…” Harry tried to start, but Voldemort cleared his throat and talked over him, “It turns out she’s just ignorant. Had she gone through any of the books the ministry has falsely labelled ‘dark’, she would have found the counter to your wards much sooner. Wherever did you find the rune work?”

“She’s not ignorant,” Harry frowned. Hackles raised and surprise forgotten, “And take a wild guess.” He gestured to the room at large.

“Ah,” Voldemort stiffened. And though his awkward face tickled Harry’s satisfaction, Harry could feel Voldemort’s overwhelming relief leaking through their bond—Harry didn’t know how being made a fool could be relieving in any way.

Then Voldemort’s hand raised, and Harry watched as his leather lounges grew autonomous and walked closer together, a small glass-top table conjured between them. Voldemort did this, and Harry’s eye caught sight again of the small bundle he’d staunchly held since entering the townhome. He watched as Voldemort placed it on the table and gently tapped the cloth with his wand to reveal a warm, freshly baked treacle tart.

Like whiplash, that stomach-swooping surprise hit Harry again.

The evening sunset through the tall stained-glass windows of the library cast a golden glow on Voldemort’s features, and the silver-sconced candlelight flickered in the deep muddy red of his eyes, making them sparkle like garnets.

If that was the colour Melania Black had requested, Harry thought with substantial awe; I could see the appeal.

“Your favourite, I’m told,” Voldemort carried on like he hadn’t just done something incredibly thoughtful and considerate for what was no doubt the first time in his life.

It dawned on Harry just how lonely he’d been, isolated for this long with no one able to pull him out. The words slipped from his mouth uninhibited, “I…Thank you, Voldemort. I didn’t realise how badly I wanted to see a friendly face.”

The second wave, stronger and dizzying, of surprise, wasn’t Harry’s own. And he could see, now that Voldemort was in front of him and Harry knew to look, that surprise on Voldemort. “You think my face is friendly?”

Blinking rapidly, Harry responded with an inelegant, “Um…well….”

“That’s a shame,” Voldemort continued. A hint of something—laughter?—creased in the lines of his eyes and smirk, “I’d prefer intimidating. Or awe-inspiring. ‘Friendly’ isn’t the kind of face a Dark Lord should have.”

That might be so; Harry couldn’t suppress the fond smile that tugged at his lips and the way his shoulders relaxed, sinking with the thaw of his isolation. But—

“I think your face is just right.”

[dickpuncher420]

girl help the outline document for my pacific rim au is already at 3k words

[princemick]

I say this in the nicest way possible but the colouring you use in almost all of your gifs makes the color red so pronounced I mean it might seem nice here and there but constantly and on all gifs it is so annoying

.....bro, what the fuck is the point of fucking sending this r u right in the head.

like do u just go 'ew dont like this style lets completely bash it for funzies' like go jerk off or smth get ur shitty release somewhere else

[trainingdummyrabbit]

I always see a ton of Pokemon AUs for Demon Slayer, but I never see any Digimon AUs! For the AU ask if you're still taking them

. okok iam Absolutely still taking these and ill do my best but anon this is a really funny ask because i. do have a mini digimon au. like its ridiculously self-indulgent and tiny but. getting this was like a kick in the shins (affectionate) WAHAHAHA

so!! i hope you dont mind if this is very blatantly biased, but its certainly a starting point! as well, i havent really interacted w/ digimon since watching the anime years ago + playing world dusk and championship a while ago, so i wont have as much knowledge to pick from as i would other things! with the disclaimers out of the way...!

...hey what if we isekai'd the tokitwins? (post-writing edit: this ended up over 2k words long. This Is A Warning.)

so, you've been oh-so-luckily chosen to be digidestined and whisked away to an unfamiliar world where just about Everything wants to kill you, you have No way to contact your own world, and you have No idea how to get back. great! cool! excellent!

introducing our funny little guys of the week: yuichiro and muichiro tokito! just them for now, before i scope-creep myself to death. but, that aside, you can't be digidestined without a funny little digital partner of your own! so, introducing:

-Patamon, Muichiro's partner! an observant yet skittish little thing that never tends to stray far from its partner. it takes its job very seriously, oftentimes coming across as a bit fussy. even so, it is very easily overwhelmed and may need encouragement to press on. as well, it also tends to take things at face value more often than not, making it very earnest but Very gullible. -DemiDevimon, Yuichiro's partner! a mischeivous little thing that rarely seems to take things very seriously. its defiant and a bit self-centered, and honestly at times seems to genuinely only stick around the twins because theyre entertaining to mess with. it's here for a good time and Nothing Else. despite its yapping, it does occasionally let a bit of protectiveness slip through-- always fiercely sticking by them despite its nigh-constant complaints about how it wants to leave.

this ragtag group of four must make their way across the digital world to find a way back home-- and hopefully remain alive in the process. in such an unfamiliar and dangerous world, however, problems are sure to arise.

the twins, of course, stick together-- but more and more often, their desires and personalities begin to clash in ways that make it more difficult to progress. it's easy to keep your head low and follow along, but just how long can you really take that-- how long can you pretend it's okay? it's easy to keep a brave face, but there's only so much you can do with what you have-- and what you convince yourself that you don't. there's only so long you can stay in such a high-pressure environment before something begins to break.

throughout their journey, they'll discover more outlandish and mystifying places, meet more new faces, and uncover strange secrets-- what's the connection between their digimon partners? how did they get sent to the digital world in the first place? and most importantly: why does this world seem to already recognize them?

///

with that out of the way... time for the fiddly bits.

the twins have an arc with each other much alike the one they get in canon-- but pressed a bit further. the two learn to stand their ground, speak their mind-- and ultimately, learn to really, truly trust one another.

yui oftentimes takes the lead, and tends to do a better job keeping everything in order-- but... he's still just a kid. a kid that cares deeply for his brother, and would do anything to keep him safe. but in a world like this, there's not much that he Can do. so he plays the part as best he can-- even if it means that he has to make hard choices.

mui, on the other hand, wants desperately to be able to help-- he slowly starts getting bolder and more forward, away from that more shy personality he'd been known to have. of course it was more dangerous. of course they didn't know what would happen next. but he would never forgive himself if he just did Nothing.

at its core, the two begin to actually almost switch places through their arc-- mui becoming more active and yui more passive-- as they make their way forward and sort themselves (and each other) out.

and of course: their partners have a whole Thing(tm) going on too! with the twins And between each other.

mui+pata are like odd little peas in a pod, oftentimes found staring at something or other with their big ol owly eyes, going back and forth over this-and-that about it in a way that makes sense to nobody but them. pata knows more about the world and where they might be going, but mui is a bit of an emotional rock for it-- providing encouragement and talking it through any roadblocks it may have come across. theyre odd little enablers! at least, when pata isn't pulling mui's hair over the fact that theyre going the wrong way, they went the wrong way we have to go that way-- no, thats the wrong way too we-- were lost were lost oh no were lost what do we DO--

yui+dDevi are. a goddamn mess. dDevi loves messing with this kid, always talking at him like it knows better-- which it does, technically, but it doesnt have to say it like that, shut up. it talks like a shitty older brother as if it wasn't leagues smaller than him and shaped exactly like a kickball. (yui doesn't vocalize this. he is so very tempted to, though.) despite all the ribbing, yui is pretty much the only person it'll talk seriously with. obviously yui is rather frustrated with it at times, but he can tell it does genuinely mean well. mostly. they squabble, but they do keep each other from doing anything too stupid. and further than that: even if he doesn't say anything, yui can tell when there's something on its mind.

the digiduo are... odd, certainly. but, strangely, there seems to be some sort of tension between the two-- they... really dont seem to get along. pata is deeply distrustful of dDevi, noting its existence as an evil digimon. like, it's in the name! devimon! not to mention how often it leads them astray or messes with them just for kicks-- something's up and it's not sure what.

on the other hand, dDevi doesn't much like pata either. it's a stuck-up killjoy thats convinced it's always right when it can barely make any good calls. always hiding behind its whole spiel of "good" and "evil" like it's so trustworthy. it doesn't even know what it's talking about half the time! if it's going to lecture them, it should at the very least be right about it. get a reason to be upset other than "that ones clearly evil, look at it!"

and then... there's the memories. or rather, the lack thereof. both seem to remember parts of some grand legend that they no longer have the ability to recall the whole of. something important to their reason of being-- and the presence of the digidestined twins.

pata seems particularly insistent of it being a prophecy, a series of steps to follow that foretell what and who they should be. (something about it seems to stress them out particularly badly, though... what exactly is it that they're living up to? why doesn't it know?)

dDevi... pretends not to care, at least. but it recalls the legend too, and hearing the fragments of it seems to make it upset. it wants nothing to do with the legend, and just wants to do... anything else. (anything to get further away from that stupid story. it's not one to be shackled by expectations like that.)

and again, the twins seem to differ on what they make of the story. yui sides with pata, believing its their best bet to at the very least figuring out how to get home. mui, on the other hand, slowly begins to wonder what exactly the gaps in the legend could mean, and wants to find out what it truly is. it's hard to follow a broken path. after all, who's to say its really a path at all? which brings us to... a bit of a conflict.

///

after a particularly rough leg of the journey, things start to get... difficult. theyve had little to no luck learning much of Anything of the way forward-- and things are just getting harder and harder as they go. yui isn't sure how much more they can really take of this. they're starting to barely make it out of these situations alive, so... so maybe they're better off just accepting it. nothing's leading them anywhere, nothing is making sense-- they might as well just... find a place to hide and keep their heads low. live it out as best they can. (he isn't sure how much more they can take.)

mui, of course, protests-- there were so many more places they haven't looked through yet! there was no telling if they found something or not unless they went for it! it was always going to be hard-- they couldn't just give up and wait for the difficulty to find Them. (he can't stand the idea of just giving up after all that...)

the two begin bickering, and it gets... hard. pata starts experiencing some doubt, unsure of if they should really be pressing on into certain death-- they'd just had some ridiculously close calls, and maybe waiting it out would reveal something..? (the knowledge of the unfinished legend hangs above its head, and the thought of unravelling it... is starting to give them a bad feeling.) dDevi doesn't want to sit around and do nothing while waiting for death-- that's boring and pathetic. itd much rather do something with itself even if it's scary. (it needs to know the truth. why so many others know them, why it keeps getting such bitter stares... why? it's frustrating.)

and the bickering turns to arguing. after a few too many harsh words from both sides... they split up. mui heading off with dDevi to find out what was really going on, and yui with pata to... find somewhere safe. figure it out.

for yui and pata, it's... a bit of a long journey. the two rarely speak, mostly just quick words to keep each other alert and avoid attention. yui is mostly pushed forward by his stubbornness, but... it does bother him. it bothers him a lot. he's afraid, he's worried, and he doesn't know what to do. he wants to figure it out, he wants to have all the answers. but he doesn't, and it was stupid to think he ever couldve. legend or not-- prophecy or not, they were just kids. what could they really do? what were they supposed to do?

and as it turned out, pata was worried sick as well. it isnt until a quiet moment that yui catches pata crying-- and they finally talk. because pata hated this too. it hated feeling like it should be able to lead them, but being unable to because of the gaps in its knowledge. it hated giving up, because it knew they needed to do something, and it was letting them down by doing nothing. and most of all... it missed mui. it argued because it was afraid, but it knew this was no better. more than anything, it just wanted to help.

they both knew they couldn't keep going with this. if not for their own sakes, then for the others'.

team mui's progress is... equally difficult. it was already hard enough moving about with a halved party, but they also aren't with their bonded partners, so their Actual Useable FIrepower is much much more limited. the entire time, dDevi goes on and on insulting the other pair, insisting it was really about time this went and happened, and that their own pair was obviously right all along. mui stays quiet through much of this, but after a particularly cruel jab, mui snaps back.

because he knew it didn't really mean any of it. dDevi was smug and irritating, sure, but it was just about always a joke. it was never this mean about it... unless it was actually, personally upset. that was a lot of talk for someone who insisted it didn't care. and even if it were to deny it, mui wouldn't stand for someone saying the people he cared about weren't worth anything. of course they were afraid-- they all were. answers were never easy. it was why they were working so hard to begin with.

and dDevi was genuinely taken aback-- because it was always convinced that mui was the pushover of the group. but just like that, he'd managed to completely read its actions without so much as a word. and... he was right. it wasnt proud of what it said, but it had to stand by it. it just didnt know how else to justify itself-- how else to keep going. but... all of this-- everything had always been for each other, hadn't it? and they certainly wasn't going to stop there.

they just had to find a way to convince the others.

of course, nothing was ever easy. its the risk they knew they were taking, but... maybe a risk they weren't quite prepared for. wherever they go, together or not, some new threat will always find a way to rear its head. but between the two of them, there wasn't much they could do to fight back. and they full well wouldn't have been able to make it... had it not been for team yui showing up at a crucial moment, yuichiro putting himself directly in the line of danger to draw attention from mui-- giving him and pata a chance to actually fight back now that they were reunited.

it's a messy fight, but with all of them together-- and a newfound but concrete trust-- they manage to push through relatively unscathed-- if a bit battered on yui's end. after a few moments to make sure everyone was all right (and ironically, to scold each other over being so reckless,) they finally get the chance to talk. and... to apologize.

///

and now for more scattered notes before i end up writing another minific in a tumblr post.

the legend goes very similarly to a typical fairy tale-- a battle between forces of good and evil, and the champions of each. long ago, there was another pair of digidestined that stumbled across the digital world, and very quickly became unrivaled in power. one half, however, became corrupted by the allure of strength and jealousy, splitting both the digital world and their familial bond. as things came to a boiling point, their conflict brought unseen destruction to the digital world, each of the chosen digimon destroying each other in the battle. crushed and in denial (for varying different reasons,) the old digidestined simply... vanished, one day, never to be seen again. as for their chosen digimon, their data was wiped nearly clean, to be born anew for when they were needed again.

as a whole, it's a story of forging bonds, learning to trust, and breaking cycles of violence.

dDevi hates the idea of digivolving due to lingering memories of that past life. it refuses to interact with it at all, and commits itself to just having a good time and living a life it can enjoy. it doesn't want to become... that again.

pata remembers that betrayal and remembers something awful happening, but... something about having to distrust the other makes it deeply, deeply sad. it want to believe in the best in dDevi, but it also feels the pull of responsibility of having to live up to the legend. that was the only thing it felt it could trust.

the old digidestined are, of course, the tsugikuni twins. whether they show up again or not is still in the air-- yoriichi being pata's old partner and michikatsu being dDevi's.

i dont feel like digging through the digiwiki for another hour but id like to somehow integrate dDevi's original digivolution line being more in line w/ canon, going all in on the Hehoo Evil(tm) thing, but with yui, it follows a more neutral route, following its own desires rather than the course of what the story Expects of it.

SO !!! YEAH!!! DIGIMON AU!!!! i care about this a very normal amount, and if you read this far: thank you, and I Am So Sorry.

[lovedazai]

SO PROUD OF MYSELF RN i have so much trouble writing long fics but this beast!dazai draft is the longest ive ever written!!!!

[collectivecloseness]

11 with whatever stranger things character works best ig. 11 nearly *just* makes it but is always left out, ones that don’t quite make it onto some lists are always interesting, like 6 or 51, or the last 100 or something lol

Babes... the fact 11 is literally Nobody by Mitski... the lonely left out one 😭 Anyway this is poor Stevie fr 😭😭

(Cw: this fic is about Steve’s mental health after dealing with all the upside down trauma the past few years)

Steve Harrington x reader

Steve doesn’t sigh, he doesn’t groan, he just doesn’t make a sound when he finally wakes up. He’d fallen back asleep a couple of times after opening his eyes, just hoping to shorten the day and stay somewhere peaceful a moment longer, but his body couldn’t take anymore sleep. He was awake now.

There was no work today. No alarm to make sure he could be autonomous and run on autopilot to brush his teeth and rush to the car in yesterday’s work clothes, and no radio call from one of the kids in danger giving him the boost of adrenaline to get up either.

But tapping his fingers on his plain grey quilt, Steve couldn’t handle the realisation he’d be alone with his thoughts right now if he didn’t get up.

Pushing himself with a sigh, Steve winces as his feet hit the cold fooorboards, slumping over to put some black socks on first, before he finds a shirt to throw over his head. He looks down to his sweatpants, but suddenly the thought of changing out of them, and into something else made Steve’s head ache and feel faint at the same time. So he didn’t care about wearing what he’d worn to bed downstairs as he dragged himself to the living room.

Steve was used to being alone in this house. His parents basically treated the place he grew up in as a holiday home, rather than a home, being there around a weekend every six weeks, if they were ever that scheduled. He never knew when they were coming back.

Steve basically owned the house now, as the sole person who actually lived there. He’d turn his parents room into a spare room, maybe have Robin as a roommate, he knew she wanted to move out away from her parents, but even mentioning it to his mom, his dad overheard him over the phone and he had yells and disappointed chidings of how selfish and inconsiderate he was assaulted down the speaker. ‘They still lived there!’ They said, although they hardly ever turned up to prove their point.

At least people visited, even if Steve couldn’t truly make the house his home yet, no decorating of his own. But being alone here, it at least made his house the designated hang out zone. It gave him good memories here. You visited a lot, and Steve was so grateful to have you as a partner. He wondered what you were up to today...

There was nothing for Steve to do here. Definitely not alone. And he definitely couldn’t risk messing something up, and his parents deciding to drop in from the other side of the country. But standing at the base of the stairs, looking around at his open, and empty home, something vile and sickening clawed at his chest, trying to scrape up his throat, split open his head from the inside. Steve went straight to the television, his chest in pain enough it made Steve flinch, turning the tv onto some random channel, any, just turning it up. A sitcom being on air, and the noise of a family all chatting together made Steve feel less alone.

Steve nearly sprinted to all the windows in the house, opening them up so he could hear noise from the outside, the things happening in the real world. He opened up the curtainless window of his kitchen, and he stood there a moment, the one further away from the tv, as he let the world go by. The wind stroked comfortingly through Steve’s brown hair, from the open panel at the top of the glass, where he was. Steve closed his eyes, letting the touch encouragingly pass. But soon there was another reason he wanted his eyes closed, because it was beginning to get harder to look outside.

He listened to cars honking hello to each other, teenagers chatting to their friends on the way to school, parents repeating road safety with their eager kids. Pushchair wheels rolling and dogs yipping and leaf blowers working. Everyone talking. In their own conversations, taking part in lives separate to the others they pass by without even noticing them, but everyone out there at least has something in common. Something Steve envied and yearned, but just could not find it in himself to seek at this moment.

The wind was cooler now. Biting him. Not meant for him. Everyone had someone else around, shielding each other from nature’s course, holding onto each other to avoid puddles, stepping away from the leaves blowing near them, or in one case, jumping on them themselves.

Steve retreated to his television. He didn’t know this family in the show, he wasn’t even watching, his eyes on the tv, but unfocused and mind not taking any of the images in. He just wanted them to keep talking.

As soon as he’d sat down, Steve realised he probably should have grabbed something from the kitchen to eat. And now he was thinking about it, his stomach churned in hunger. He knew he was hungry, even if it was the type of hunger that made you feel nauseous. But Steve had already sat down. And standing up again, just to get himself some food, just could not be prioritised enough for Steve to motivate himself to get his legs to move.

All Steve wants is somebody. Somebody near him right now. Somebody to be with him. He was a changed man after his first encounter with the upside down those few years ago. Battling creatures with his baseball bat, his ex and her new guy, and learning all about the horrible world underneath this one. Becoming the protector of others and the perpetual and never ending punching bag at the same time.

He looped it all in with the upside down, all these events, the Russians torturing him, what happened with Nancy, the possible state of his future, his relationship with his parents, almost losing the people he loves even though he always puts himself on the line first he just!!- What else can he do?!! And why isn’t him throwing himself into every danger to protect the people who actually deserve to be protected ever enough?!

Why do people still get hurt, when Steve will always let himself get hurt for them!?

Steve puts his head into his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs but he just pushes them in harder, his bitten nails barely doing damage as he scrapes them into his head whilst he’s burying his eyes. “Shut up shut up shut up.” Steve growls softly to himself, knowing he wasn’t helping anything.

He was a coward.

He acted strong, in front of the others. Proud to always be ‘the’ badass around the kids, especially Dustin. And he always headed straight on for danger if that would mean it helped the others. But he was so changed when it was just him now. He wasn’t the same person before; and he was glad, he’d been an asshole - something Steve winces into his hand at, as he remembers - but he’s not like he used to be.

He used to be able to get through his nightmares about his childhood. He used to come home and just chill. Enjoy the house to himself, and throw parties. He never felt like this until he went through all that trauma, as you’d promised him it was. He never felt so troubled, so down, so exhausted, so scared, so lonely. So just everything all at once.

He knows it’s not up to anybody to save him, he knows that no one can. Or at least, he thinks that, sometimes. Even though Steve sometimes feels like screaming, begging you to save him, even at the moments he’s least in danger, just in his own home. Even with you right there holding him. Not actually risking his life like he’s done so many times, like he’s made you cry over, watching him be so selfless, and brave, and hurt, again and again. Needing you to help save him, after it all too. But part of him feels like a coward for wanting it. The other half remembers all your loving words, all of them, not one is ever forgotten by Steve, and he’s able to regain control over those thoughts again most times he slaves over this.

Before you, there would have been no one to save Steve first, no one he was most important to, during all these life threatening events. Steve almost allowed himself to be okay with the thought no one would save him, even as he was first to throw himself in head first if it meant protecting his friends. Everyone had someone else. Someone they’d check up on first. Steve was glad he had you. Even when you promised him he wasn’t just your first choice to save, that others would pick him too. Even that helped Steve. Not just you being there, but you, you being the one to be his partner, you who just always knows how to help him.

All he wanted was to feel alright. Not great, just alright. Something he always used to take for granted. Something he can start to feel again, whenever he’s with you, or surrounded by his loved ones. ...Steve’s lips twisted up, his head tilting slightly as it came out of his hands. Why was that something so hard, for him to be able to feel alright? Why was his life like that?

But you at least told him he wasn’t a coward. You got through it with him, you let him be changed even when he wasn’t alone, you-

Steve’s head shot up as he heard the key in the door. And his heart froze like a cool zap in his chest, as he prayed inside his head to let it be you. That you somehow knew he needed you today. That you were coming for him, like you always did.

And Steve felt relief pour through his body so hard, his frozen fingers and toes flooded with such warmth, allowing him to actually feel able to move his muscles, as he reached his arms out for you from where he was sat on the couch, as you made eye contact with him from where you’d hung your coat, your own eyes filled immediately with your knowledge.

“Oh... Oh baby.”

You spoke so softly. Steve loved your voice. He kept his arms open as you rushed over, sitting by him on the couch and immediately pulling Steve into your arms with a big breath. Steve melting his face into your collarbone, as he let himself listen to your breath, your heartbeat, the creak of your trousers against his couch, and he felt whole not being alone at all anymore.

Steve is happy to listen for moments longer, his brown messy hair nestling into the crook of your neck, as he smooths his cheek over your warm skin. He can smell the body wash he uses when he showers at yours. His hands crawl up to hold you by the side of your chest softly. Steve happy to start to listen to the beat of your heart, and see if his will follow rhythm, like it does when he pays attention to it.

But you start speaking again. At least, filling his home with your voice. “Stevie darling. I’m here. You’re okay Steve.” You kiss his soft hair, stroking his head, and Steve leans into your touch. “You’re okay. I’m staying with you today.” You promise, knowing he likes when you do so, and when you plan it for the rest of his day.

Steve nods, letting you know he heard you, and he’s thankful, but a big sigh leaves his lungs, tickling hot against your collar, as he thinks, at least now while in a safety bubble of your warm hold, having wrapped your arms and legs, all of you safely around him.

Whether he’s been big or small, tough or soft, he’s still never good enough, still nobody wanted him. He was a douchey smartass, then a loser dumbass, and he wasn’t liked as either of those - never wanted, Steve thinks. Until you.

His thoughts still wandering around those paths, as he starts to let you take over for him this morning. He’s got to remind himself those thoughts he has just aren’t true, during spirals like this. You do want him. You, his best friend, his other friends, the kids, Joyce, Hopper, hell even his parents.

He is wanted.

Steve’s just got to remember it even in his lonely times. It doesn’t matter whether he’s brave and macho, or a dorky himbo, he’s still him, and he’s still loved by somebody. By multiple somebodies. And turning his head, peering his soft brown eyes up into your own, Steve constantly knows you really love him.

Steve leans his hand up, not even thinking about how his body no longer feels tired or achy anymore, just brushing your hair away behind your ears so he can see more of your perfect face, and also touch your soft hair.

“Good morning.” He speaks up, smiling crookedly and smally at you, but Steve feels relieved and wondrous, hearing his own voice in his big house.

“Good morning Steve.” You smile down at him. And God are Steve’s eyes sparkly as they look mesmerised at you. You moving to stroke Steve’s puffy brown hair, as his longer fingers still caress over your own. You smile, and Steve smiles back. No ache in his heart, his thoughts just full of all he can do with you today now his house is not so empty, or you can even leave the house together, if he chooses that he wants to. And that small other aware part of his thoughts, so happy and thankful that in this moment, that you are here with him.

Even though Steve can tell you know he was sad. That he was going through it a bit again. He’s obviously much better now he’s practically laying across your lap, his toned body fitting perfectly in your arms, and his head tucked warmly at the bottom of your chest, looking up at how you peer down at him, holding him, cradling your boyfriend safely, and Steve brings his hands to rest on your forearms, smiling as he swallows in his throat, relaxing in a position Steve loves.

Steve’s not asking you to fix him, he knows it’s not as simple as that, and he knows you don’t need any pressure. You two are working on it all, together. Both your issues, both your needs, and importantly, your wants. Steve so happy to be able to share his wants with you just as much as his needs, and have you take care of each other’s, of each other. Steve’s not asking for you to fix him, instead he’s licking his dry lips, and with a small and endearing smile, asks “Can I have my kiss now?”

His adoring smile only growing as you gleefully and slowly move in, pressing your warm lips against his own. Giving Steve the one thing he needed to start feeling properly alright again. Allowing Steve to hold your face close, as you both chuckle softly into each other’s mouths, the small sound so audible to Steve with how close you both are. As you happily, and so open heartedly, honestly, lovingly, both share a sweet kiss, for the start of his better day.

[asharaks]

when God bore you hungry

2.6k words nsft: explicit sex, some blood (very mild) nonbinary durge/wyll

Sprawled across his chest, his heart beating against theirs, they breathe into his mouth. Their lips are separated only by his fingers, his skin warm against their scars: they open their mouth, their tongue brushing the swell of his fingertip, and his chest hitches beneath theirs as he gasps.

[invinciblerodent]

1) Will your OC get married and with who? 2) Will they have any children? What are their names?

OC Ask Game!

I think I’m gonna go on for a long (long, long, LONG) time about Iona, and mention the others kind of as a footnote, because I think Iona’s answers to these are just… the ones that are most interesting to me, lol

(fair warning looking back, this got PROFOUNDLY away from me- the TL; DR of it is that for Iona marriage is "yes, eventually" and kids are "no, never", for Arvid marriage is a "yes, of course, sure" and kids are "well if you want it", and for Petyr both are "hah! no. nope. no.")

So, this whole “what now” issue in Iona’s case, it’s… all a bit muddled.

As a little background to it, in 3e, it’s said that courtships between elves often take a very long time, sometimes decades, before a commitment is reached- which is understandable, especially considering that elves are also said to seldom fall out of love with one another, and don’t typically remarry after the death of one spouse. A commitment that’s meant to span a lifetime of centuries (whether the life of one has a natural endpoint or not is irrelevant), it makes sense that they’d take it seriously, and not jump into soul-bonds willy-nilly. (An albatross is definitely going onto her moodboard now, lol.)

I think both Iona and Astarion would still be kind of... feeling themselves out, by the end of the game, and neither of them would be drawn to the thought of “blissful mutual domesticity” just yet.

I mean, on top of being a quite young elf, she’s spent a good 80% of her life among humans: her experience with life is colored by the perceptions of a people who are constantly trying to outrun the rushing of a clock that might as well be standing still for her. So exploring what time even means to her, that’d be a very exciting prospect. While Astarion, he was even younger than she is now when he had the “elven” part of his identity taken away from him, only to be made into someone that’s seen as a tool first, monster second, and person a distant third. He’s eager to re-learn personhood and live again, so they’re both sort of… (re-?)discovering themselves and their “feyness” together, and in each other. 

My little idea is that after the Brain’s defeat, they’re going to spend one or two decades on solo adventuring: primarily looking for a way to allow him to walk in the sun again, but that… proves itself to be something of a wild goose chase. The travel itself is annoyingly cumbersome (either they have to shelter during the day and cover no ground, or he has to be polymorphed and be both unable to communicate and practically defenseless [can’t risk fighting, if his form is dismissed he’s dead]). But also, there are just… too many disappointments. Too many dead ends. Too many times they’ve gotten too close only to find out that they were either late, or misled, or just plain wrong about something.

I think he’d grow frustrated with it first, and grow reckless: strain against his limits, start pushing his luck with the Sun, start making dangerous mistakes, and it’d be her who’d start gently encouraging (cajoling, bargaining, eventually pleading with-) him that maybe they should return to the Gate. To regroup, try to find other avenues, head off in a different direction. And while he'd know she's right, agreeing… it'd still feel like he’s admitting defeat.

Of course, he’d try to put on an unbothered face, but she would still obviously be able to tell that he’s upset: primarily with himself, but also a little bit with… everything. Of feeling both free and trapped, both bursting with the desire to DO something, but also being… powerless.

Which (stay with me, we're a third of the way!) is the context in which the thought of kids and “marital bliss” would rear its ugly head.

Because I headcanon that vampire spawn are naturally sterile. (I know full vampires can sire mortal offspring, but since spawn can’t create new vampires via bite and the bite is almost always a penetration-allegory, I like to think that translates to them being just… unable to reproduce, period.) And elves in general already have far lower fertility rates, so even if he wasn’t sterile because of the vampirism but just maybe less fertile than usual, the chances of conception between the two of them would still be infinitesimally small.

And I mean, the topic really wouldn’t come up naturally, so I think Astarion would likely think that she’d eventually want children. I mean, he knows very well that she had been previously married to a human- humans usually want kids, so it’d be a natural assumption that she’d be on the same page as her ex-husband, and the fact that she doesn’t have kids now wouldn't be for a lack of wanting. (It is. It is for a lack of wanting. But both of them being ~excellent~ [pejorative] at communicating, he definitely wouldn’t ask- if only for fear of the answer he thinks he'd get.)

So it'd kind of… eat at him, for a while, the thought that at some point, she might grow to resent him. There'd be a small, niggling part of his mind that'd worry that at some point, the limitations would all prove too much, and she’d grow frustrated, tired of always having to work with and around his… shall we say, conditions. Beyond his partial reliance on her pain and literal body for sustenance, the physical differences between them, and the messiness of healing (the times he startles awake screaming, the times he can’t bear even the thought of being touched, the times he’s frustrated with himself and takes it out on her), this is just one more thing.

He can’t take her out for a nice day in the city. He can’t warm her body at night, wine and dine her (or just share a meal like a regular person), or love her as brazenly as he did starting out, out on the street for all to see because… well, he can’t go out into the streets. Can’t even travel with her during the day, not without taking the shape of a stupid animal that can’t communicate with her, joke with her, or even delight her with the looks he had thought for so long were the only thing he was good for.

Though secure in her love of him, he’s not stupid, or an idealist who’d think that love alone is enough for a happily ever after. While enjoying the time while it lasts, naturally there’d be sort of a running tally in his head of all the ways their lives chafe against one another.

Watching her face grow paler and paler as she’s deprived of the sun and has her blood drained, he’d never quite stop wondering at what point is the scale going to tip, at what point she’d finally realize that she had bet on the wrong undead horse by choosing to love the vampire who asks her to sacrifice so much, and not only doesn’t want to, but isn’t even able to give her what (he thinks) she wants.

Which, she doesn’t want it, of course. She has not even one maternal bone in her body.

Iona is well aware that she would make a terrible mother, and she absolutely does not want to be one. So it wouldn’t even occur to her that this would be something on his mind on top of all else. When he’d be having his little personal crisis about this, she’d be busy trying to make the impossible happen and circumventing the need to find a way to give him back the Sun by inventing one herself. That’d be why she'd lock herself into her study alone for longer and longer periods of time, why she sometimes wouldn’t come out for days, why she'd sometimes steer the conversation away from certain things- she wouldn’t want to give him false hope in a project that’d quickly prove so far beyond her abilities.

But, she'd still obviously recognize his occasional bouts of melancholy- I mean, it’s very unusual for someone to look at another so fondly and happily one moment, and then get quiet and forlorn the next. That distance she'd see behind his eyes sometimes when she'd tell him she loves him, that’d be rather worrying to anyone.

It’ll take a while for this particular cat to work its way out of the bag, but it would happen eventually, of course.

In reality, none of that would bother her.

She delights in being the sole person deciding what, when, and how she wants to eat. She loves the coolness of his touch- it soothes the heat of the draconic blood running through her veins better than any balm. Sure, going to markets and doing all that domestic pish can be fun, but... well, she’s always been an indoorsy person. Being bitten is no burden (she wouldn’t offer if it was), and there being no risk of a pregnancy, even after the tadpole’s death? At the risk of sounding crass, that’s an incredible perk, with no downsides. Feeling him find his pleasure while buried deep inside her, with no pang of fear or worry? It’s absurd how perfect that is, how happy she is with the fact that with the man she loves, that fear of being impregnated against her will can be put completely to rest.

And the rest, the messiness, the less “pretty” parts of it all, the evenings spent soothing his pain that’s either real or real only to him, that’s… just what happens if you love someone. Sure, she worries of course, but even when it’s inconvenient, when it’s ugly, when the old scars feel like they’re on fire and she can’t even being to think of a way to help… she still loves him just the same.

So no, no children necessary. It’s not in the cards for them, and even if it was, I don’t think either of them would really want it, or be good at it.

... She’d probably like to overwrite the memories of her first marriage (and speak the word “husband” without rancor) though, but only eventually.

And I like to think that that’ll have to happen with an item I’m tentatively calling “Taran Tal’hondnor” (The Gift of True Love), and it’s an enchanted ring that she will finally be able to create after many years of study, and even more miserably failed attempts at creating an enchantment that’ll let a vampire walk in the sun.

I like to imagine her proposing to him, on her own terms this time, with one such gift.

Because she loves him to the point of invention.

Quickly on the others, Arvid… might like fatherhood, if he were so inclined. He’s a very caring, kind, nurturing person, and if he were to be in that position, he would probably be a very good dad. He’s generally in a nurturing role already, and Gale being in a teaching role, they could prove to be excellent parents, if that were what they wanted.

But they… probably wouldn’t want that. Gale being the age that he is (“canon” says 35, I see ~38-40, minor difference) and a human, yet saying that he’s “not ready”, I personally interpret that as a rather telling thing. His past of having spent such a long time in a "monogamous" (I'm fairly sure that part's one-sided, no time to go into that now) relationship with a goddess who had no intention of having kids with him, and his present willingness to be with an illithid who can’t, that to me is implying that it’s not something that’d be that important to him. Like I personally see that as him not actively preferring to have kids if it’s up to him (he likes peace, and quiet, and downtime, and a nice glass of wine with a quietly romantic evening meal- very much the quintessential childless millennial, 100% part of the appeal to me lol), but he’d be happily willing to do it if his partner wanted it themselves.

But in my world, his husband (I like how I skated by the first part of the question, I mean they already ARE married lol)… doesn’t really have such strong feelings about it either. So, since two "maybes" don’t make a "yes" (and for this kind of thing, you need two enthusiastic "yes"-es for it to no longer be a no), it’s a "no".

But I think their marriage is going to be very happy and fulfilling to both of them nevertheless. <3

And since I don't yet have any kissy-shots of them (☹️), have an "are you seeing this shit" silent exchange for these two <3

Honestly? I would sooner give a baby to a pack of feral wolves and hope for the best than have Petyr become a father. He'd absolutely be the kind of dad whose kids become DnD characters. He's someone's tragically emotionally distant boomer dad just waiting to happen. (I mean, come on. My guy felt inadequate once, and coped with it by fucking off to the woods for 20 years? Yeah, sure, father of the year.)

And Shadowheart, she basically didn't have parents growing up, she has a TON of cult indoctrination to process and unlearn as an adult, and -let's be real- likely has no fucking clue how motherhood would even really work. Like the woman whom she used to call "mother" pretty much straight-up tortured her. C'mon now.

I like to think that, though they are the only two in my lineup who are physically able to have kids by accident, they (with their 8 and 10 INT scores respectively) would still be smart enough to smell that particular disaster before they'd barrel into it head first, and either actively decide not to have kids, or put it off so far into the future as for it to be meaningless. Maybe the discussion can be tabled in a few decades' time, but since by then their home will be surrounded by, god, so many animals to take care of (including a barely not feral, adult owlbear) (and their mutual boyfriend who sometimes shows up for like a month to fuck nasty on every available surface of the house and surrounding wilds), I doubt it'll result in a resounding "yes".

In the same vein of things, if a big, beautiful, traditional wedding is something that she wants (which I... kinda doubt would be super important to her), she definitely bet on the wrong horse, because this guy is not one for pomp and circumstance.

I like to imagine that after their departure from the Gate (and their bidding of not exactly "farewell", but "see you later" to Halsin), he'll just... take her "home" to his little shack in his corner of the forest, and then, sitting under the canopy of his favorite woods, enjoying the balmy evening breeze and the undisturbed night sky with his favorite person, he'll look up at the moon, take her hand, and silently, in his head, give his thanks to the Moonmaiden for this peace.

And... that'll be it. From that point forward, it'll be easy to fall into a kind of sweet, quiet domesticity that is essentially a marriage in all but name.

I definitely like- and relate to the idea of them foregoing the "2.5 kids, white picket fence" idea of a happily ever after not out of a conscious rejection, but rather just by... being themselves. Together.

[rivertigo]

Ok well 12 credit hours will run me 7.8k so uhmm

[tired-demonspawn]

y'ever take a filmography wikipedia as a checkllist? no? okay.