#˖⁺‧₊˚ ���� ── my writing

[ninjasmudge]

i always like when people joke abt lamb talking to chat and i also think its great when narinder, aym and baal are watching through the crown so i combined them

lamb needs to get some disciples just to give them mod privileges

[thief-of-eggs]

everyone heading to tumblr as soon as they get the “error 503” message from ao3

[shouyuus]

18+, vi-shaped brainrot, mdni

consider college roommate!vi who is the star of the rugby team and just such a fucking jock about it, spends hours at the gym, has pre and post workout drinks and never closes her door when she's blasting rock music, leaves pink hair dye on the bathroom counter, stains the tub when she gets drunk and tries to redo her roots, calls you everything but your name -- sweetcheeks, dollface, cupcake, princess -- isn't shy about her hookups, doesn't even bother to apologize the mornings after another pretty cheerleader scampers out of her room, shrugs and winks when you come out of the bathroom with a tiny thong dangling off your finger that's clearly not either of yours.

college roommate!vi who does kickboxing on the weekends and teaches a kid's course at the local gym. the first time you go there to drop something of her's off as a favor, you can't help but stare at the way she laughs and chases the kids around, so gentle with her movements, so careful, guiding their punches, correcting their forms. and the kids love her -- it's so easy to see, the stars in their eyes, the color high in their cheeks, the way the girls cluster around her legs and the boys are constantly vying for her approval, how she tries her best to divide up her attention equally between all of them.

college roommate!vi who goes real quiet the first time you laugh in her presence, a real laugh, not one of those ha-ha ones you snipe at her when she's trying to get a rise out of you, or teasing you about spending all your time in the library, but one that shakes your shoulders and makes your whole face light up. who has to blink when you cock your head and ask if she's okay bc she was so busy staring at you, wondering about the weird thumping in her chest, the tightness in her throat.

college roommate!vi who's there for you when you're stressed about your dissertation, and she knew you were smart, but listening to you rant about it at 3am in the morning, she's starting to realize that... you're kind of a genius. to be so young and already doing a doctorate in mechanical engineering, and the things you're trying to do -- they could conceivably change the world one day. who freezes when you let your head drop onto her shoulder with a heavy sigh, telling her that you don't know what to do.

"you'll figure it out, cupcake. with a brain like yours? you always do."

college roommate!vi who realizes way too late that she's kinda got it bad for you, bc since when did she start getting used to the sight of you wearing one of her gym shirts in the mornings, making scrambled eggs, rolling your eyes when she yawns her way into the tiny kitchen, leaning an arm against the fridge as she looks you over before asking what's for breakfast. who's gotten so used to falling asleep to the soft clatter of your computer keys that when you leave to visit your family for a weekend, she tosses and turns and can't figure out why it's impossible for her to get to sleep, wanders into sliver of space you guys have crammed a couch and tv into to call a living room, slumping down there to stare at the ceiling, only to feel her fingers graze against something on the ground, who tugs out the thing from under the couch only to find herself staring at one of your bunched up socks with the goofy cartoon cats pattern, and she remembers (suddenly) finding you tearing your room apart the week before trying to look for it because it's your favorite pair of socks.

she finds herself chuckling, letting the sock fall again, but the tightness in her throat doesn't recede, and invisible fingers clench in her gut as she lets her eyes fall shut.

"well... fuck."

college roommate!vi who doesn't know how to act when you get back from your weekend away, when you throw yourself into her arms, your skin still smelling of the crisp fall air and something warm, and spicy -- it reminds her of the holiday market you dragged her to last year, the cinnamon and spiced apples, the hot, mulled wine, the way it burned all the way down when she took the first sip, the way it worked the most darling flush into your cheeks above your pink knit scarf.

"i've got a present for you!" you say, when you finally extricate yourself from her gasp, your arms still around her shoulders, her hands still settled around your waist.

"y-yeah? you didn't have to do that, sweetcheeks --"

"yeah, but i saw this in a store window and -- well i just... it reminded me of you," you say, pulling back to dig something out of your travel bag, and it takes everything in vi not to tug you back into her chest. so instead, she settles for knitting her arms across her front and coughing to hide the fact that her throat's just tightened over itself at your words. you? seeing something and thinking of her? gods, she was so far gone.

"here," you say, pulling a small black box out and offering it to her on the palm of your hand.

vi stares, before reaching out to take it, her eyes flickering up towards your face, only to catch you chewing on your bottom lip in a way that makes her mind frizzle out at the edges. she refocuses her attention on the box -- opening it, she finds a tiny little gemstone, set on a thin golden chain --

"oh..." she breathes, tugging out up to let the gem dangle from between her fingers.

"it -- it's an alexandrite stone," you say, your voice a bit reedy, but you push on as vi continues to stare, "it's uhm -- one of the rarest gemstones in nature, but the cool thing is it changes colors depending on what kind of light it's under --" you reach up to grasp her wrist, her lungs seizing at the contact as you tug her into the incandescent light of the kitchen. "see? it was light blue a second ago, right? and now it's --"

"violet," vi says, her voice soft and disbelieving.

you quickly let go of her wrist, pursing your lips and wrapping your arms around yourself, looking anywhere but at her face.

"yeah -- i just --" your shoulders shrug up as she stares at you, her sky-light eyes wide, "it... it reminded me of... you."

college roommate!vi who, ever since the "necklace incident" (as the rest of the rugby team likes to call it), hasn't really been the same. she's put on the necklace and not taken it off for even a second since the day you gave it to her, but now she doesn't really know how to act around you -- bc did you actually like her? i mean, the necklace is... a pretty big thing to just give someone, but what if you were just giving it to her as a friend? as a roommate? she agonizes over it to the point that the rest of the team are so, so sick of hearing about it, they lovingly tell her to just fuck her and get it over with already. but vi insists that she can't -- it's different with you.

college roommate!vi who's stunned speechless when she gets home to find you staring at your computer, your expression blank. and at first, she thinks something's horribly wrong, but then you're slamming into her, squealing about how you've done it -- your thesis defense went well, that you're a doctor now -- and she's picking you up, spinning you around, buoyed up by the effervescence of your happiness, pressing a kiss to your cheek --

"oh my god, congrats princess! i knew it! i always knew you could do it!"

"thanks -- god, i just -- i've wanted it for so long i... i don't know what to do with myself now that i've got it, y'know?" you say, still suspended in vi's arms, your feet lifted off the ground. it takes a moment before you both seem to realize the position you're in, and vi clears her throat as she lets you down, you looking away, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool the heat gathering there.

after a brief pause though, vi chuckles, reaching out to slip a finger beneath your chin, tilting your face up towards her's.

"c'mon, put on one of those pretty dresses of yours. we're going out."

"out?"

"yeah. to celebrate."

you blink as vi pulls her hand away.

"but it's like... 4:30 on a tuesday."

vi cocks an eyebrow, a smirk twitching at her lips, "yes, and? c'mon cupcake --" her eyes catch yours and instead of looking away, she holds it this time, something flickering behind their powder-blue depths that makes your skin prickle with heat, "i'll show you a good time."

college roommate!vi who takes you to one of her favorite clubs, tugging you through the crowd, the jostling bodies, holding your hand in her's, trying really hard not to think too much about it (or the fucking insane little black and pink miniskirt you put on), telling herself that it's just to make sure she doesn't lose you in the crowd, grinning when someone knocks you into her chest, and she finds her arm wrapped around your waist, fingers scrunching the material of your skirt, your palms splayed on her chest.

she buys the both of you a round of shots, watching with a hitched breath as your tongue flickers out to lick the salt daubed on your wrist, the way your eyes squeeze shut when you take the shot and your lips wrap around the lime slice, tries to ignore the twist in her gut like a turning blade, the way her whole body flushes with heat, the dull ache caught between her legs when you wipe your lips, your eyes bright and a little blown out, your cheeks flushed with color as you giggle and lace your hands with hers again --

"come on! i wanna dance!"

college roommate!vi who is just drunk enough to let herself dance with you, to let herself lean in to the way you're twisting your body, fingers in your hair, your eyes closed, an indulgent smile on your lips, who let's herself imagine (just for a second), pulling you in to kiss you, how soft your lips might feel on hers, how silken your skin might be beneath her hands, who tries not to groan when you lean in closer, link your arms behind her neck, press your whole body against her's, who grips your hips just a little too tight, grinds you against her, sees the way you gasp, your eyelids fluttering as you eyes glaze out --

college roommate!vi who can't help how she groans at the sight, tugs you in by the back of your neck to mash her lips to yours, crushing you to her as she kisses you (finally, finally) and you let yourself he kissed -- your fingers tangle in her choppy pink hair, and she swears you make this sweet, mind-bending whimpering noise in the back of your throat that drives her up the wall and right over it --

but when she pulls back, she sees the look on your face -- shocked and little confused, but you're drunk, and she doesn't wanna do this with you -- at least, not like this.

college roommate!vi who pulls away, only to have you follow her all the way out the club, into this small dark alley, her shaking her head, feeling a strange, saltwater prickle at the back of her throat as she says --

"shit -- sorry. i didn't mean to -- i just -- you were just so -- and i -- fuck, i didn't --"

"vi -- vi -- no, violet, listen to me --"

it's her full name on your lips that makes her pause, makes her turn to find you walking towards her. your lipstick is smeared, your hair a waterfall mess around your shoulders as you corner her against the rough brick of the club's exterior. faintly, she can still feel the pulse of music reverberating from inside the club, but out here, the air is damp and cold and quiet.

"i -- i'm sorry i kissed you," she says, her voice cracking over the syllables. she bites her lips as you frown up at her, your eyes searching her's before you let out a soft sigh and a scoff.

"well. i'm sorry you feel that way. cause..." you take half a step back, your arms curling around yourself before you glance back at her with a hard, determined light to your eyes as you press back into her space, your cheeks bright with color.

"i was really kinda hoping you'd do it again."

vi's breath punches out of her chest; it takes a few seconds of sputtering before she gathers herself enough to speak.

"wait -- what? you..."

you crinkle your nose, rolling your eyes, "i -- i thought i was making it obvious -- i mean, with the whole necklace thing -- it doesn't take a genius to figure how i feel about --"

you squeak as she pins you against the opposite wall, her lips seeking yours out, her fingers rucking up the material of your top, making you hiccup as they tease under the wire-rim of your bra.

college roommate!vi who can barely control herself when you sink your fingers into her hair, tugging lightly as you gasp out a breath, her lips tracking fire along the side of your neck, intent on making you whimper again, just the way she likes, grazing her teeth along your collarbone even as you jerk at her hair --

"vi -- fuck -- vi, not here --" you swallow around the burgeoning desire, and when you glance down to find her looking up at you, her eyes so dark they're almost black, you fight back a groan, cup your palms around her cheeks and pull her up for a long kiss.

"let's --" you suck in a breath even as vi whines at the loss your lips, "let's go home --"

"holy fuck," vi swears, somehow managing to pull herself back just far enough to taste the misty night air. she stares at you, your chest heaving, a daisy-chain of hickeys blossoming along the long expanse of your neck, your makeup good and smeared, your hair a mess, your eyes bright and so full of love as they flicker over her face.

vi smiles, helpless to the loud, uncertain drumming of her heart as she says, "y-yeah -- let's get you home, princess."

college roommate!vi who barely waits for the elevator door to close in your building before she's got you shoved up against the wall, hoisting you up, her fingers seeking out the softness of your skin, tugging up your shirt, her other hand dipping into the waistband of your skirt, her mouth open and hungry as she kisses your neck, bites down at the junction of your shoulder just to hear you moan.

college roommate!vi who's way too good at undoing your bra with one hand the second you get back to your apartment (if you were more coherent, you might've thought it hot), the door slamming closed, the pair of you toppling onto the room, breathy laughs and panting whines as she hoists you into her arms and carries you to your bedroom, laying you down so gently, kissing up your stomach till you're whimpering, your own hands pulling your top off your body, leaving you in an undone-bra and a miniskirt, your cheeks flushed. you push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as vi peaks up at you from between your legs, shooting you a wink before she's tugging down your skirt and panties all in one, an eyebrow ticking up at the lil lacey thing you had on beneath the skirt all along.

"all this for me, pretty?"

you press your lips, eyes cutting away as she looks between the bra dangling off your shoulders and the panties caught round your ankles. her lashes flutter.

"oh, a matching set," she cocks her head, running her palms up your thighs, pinning them open again as you try to press them closed, feeling suddenly much too seen (bc you'd be straight up lying if you hadn't put it on in the vague hope that the night might evolve into something like this).

she clicks her tongue, shaking her head with a cocky, shit-eating grin that makes your heart skitter in your chest. her drops a light kiss to your inner thigh, savoring in the way you whine again.

"nope, keep 'em open princess."

college roommate!vi who takes her time with you, bc rly she's been waiting way too long for this, has imagined it one too many times, but nothing can compare to the way your hips jerk up against her mouth, the way your fingers tighten in her hair every time she licks up the seam of your cunt, the way your breath catches on her name over and over again, like you can't quite get the word out even though it's just a single syllable. she groans against you, too lost in the taste of you to care about what a mess she must look like, with her tongue fucking into your desperate hole, her nose nudging your clit, her fingers digging crescent moon marks into your hipbones.

she's sure that if this were an old-fashioned cartoon, there'd be big, balloon hearts popping out of her eyes. she can't get enough of you like this -- moaning her name, your legs on either side of her face, your skin littered with the remnants of her. she has the eye-rolling thought of you the next morning, of how all these marks will still be there to remind you of her every single time you see one of them.

college roommate!vi who doesn't expect you to flip over after she's literally eaten you out seven ways to sunday, to tug her in for a soft kiss (though she really does like pressing your own taste back into your mouth with her tongue), before your fingers are inching down the length of her body to tease at her hips, trailing circles down the lines of her abs, toying with the thin line of hair that leads into her black boxer briefs.

"what are you --"

you shoot her a look that has her mouth going dry.

"what? didn't think i can give as good as i get?"

college roommate!vi who's literally going to lose her mind with the way you're fingers (at first sight so thin and delicate, but gods are they stronger than they look) are pressing into her, curling up with the kind of precision usually only associated with doctors, and then a voice in the back of her head reminds her -- oh, right, you are a doctor now. but logical thought dies after that, bc you've somehow worked your way between her legs and are looking up at her with those big dark eyes of yours, smiling sunshine bright before you drop a kitten-lick against her clit and she's twitching, keening as she cums all over your fingers.

"jesus fuckin' christ, doll -- is that what you're learning in those engineering classes?"

she's breathless, cheeks flushed, and honestly just a little embarrassed at how quickly she came, but she has to bite back another groan as she watches you lick your fingers clean, grinning sweetly up at her as if you didn't just get her off in record time.

"no, but i did do my dissertation on human-based robotics, which included a lot of late nights memorizing anatomical models so..."

vi pulls you in for a kiss, laughing against your lips.

"you're amazing, y'know that?"

college roommate!vi who can't really believe how much she's lucked out, sharing an apartment with her girlfriend, who literally cannot shut up about you, but the rugby team all agree that they'd rather have this than the months of endless pining. who brags about her genius gf to anyone who'll listen, and looks for you in the stands of all her practice matches when you can make it, who kisses you in front of everyone even when you make a show of trying to wiggle away bc she's sweaty (you don't really care).

who loves telling the story of how you guys met bc she still can't quite believe it herself, and the story always starts with --

"well, actually -- we started off as roommates."

[aingeal98]

The way Mel doesn't even flinch when Ambessa slaps her, doesn't even react. Just keeps trying to negotiate, keeps trying to get her to see reason right up until that final fight. Your mother is the only person in the world left who truly knows and loves you and yet she does not respect you.

Thinking about Cait smacking Ambessa right as she was about to give another condescending smirk and line to Mel, snapping at her to shut up and fight even with a dagger in her gut. And she would have died seconds later if it wasn't for Mel.

No one can understand what it's like being raised by Ambessa. Not anymore now that Kino is dead. The level of abuse, manipulation and genuine love all tied together is something only Mel carries with her. Cait certainly can't understand it, but she was trained for a few months at Ambessa's side, each other's shadow of a replacement for their respective mother daughter losses. And sometimes that's enough.

Sometimes the spark you need to finally heal your inner child and stand up to your mother is your feral twenty two year old baby sister in law essentially choosing to die fighting rather than bow to your mother's will. Just that one little push past the point of no return, and suddenly your mother is dead and you have killed her and she is finally, finally proud of you.

[florencebirdsong]

Healer Knows Best

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Healer AU - Chapter 1/3

Summary: you have a problem you can’t ignore anymore. The local healer, Agatha Harkness, is more than happy to help.

Tags: naive reader, virgin reader, first time, fingering, medical play, good girl, R is horny and doesn't have the words for it, no pronouns used for R, R is told it doesn’t counts as sex but does says yes to Agatha’s fingers so dubious consent, manipulation

masterlist | ao3

Authors note: dark grey Agatha my beloved

You knock on the healer’s door and wring your hands nervously as you wait for her to answer. Half of you hopes she isn’t home and the other hopes she is. Your problem is embarrassing but you know if she isn’t here now you won’t find the courage to return. Which means the feeling will only get worse.

She opens the door and you struggle to bury the relief and anxiety. Her beauty is startling and you curse your affliction for noticing. Her hair is braided back out of her face, a few strands escaping. The sunlight brings out the detail in her blue eyes.

“Healing or ingredients?” she asks.

You force yourself to look at the ground instead of staring.

“Healing please,” you say, forcing some strength into your voice.

“Very well,” she opens the door wider. “What seems to be the problem?” she asks as she leads you inside the small cottage. 

It’s every surface is crowded with materials and ingredients and tools. You look around nervously. This is the first time you’ve been to see the healer by yourself. You haven’t even been inside before. She doesn’t offer you a seat. She stops in front of the bench that has the most space on it, a mortar and pestle front and centre.

“It’s…um a bit embarrassing,” you say.

“Now, now, dear, I’ve been doing this for decades. There’s nothing I haven’t heard. Or seen,” she adds with a wink.

Something flutters in your stomach and it only makes the feeling worse. 

“It’s about,” you hesitate and then gesture vaguely to your lower stomach.

“Is something wrong with your monthly? Pain worse than usual?” She begins to move items around on the table.  

You cross your arms around yourself. You knew you’d have to explain it for her to be able to help but that doesn’t mean you were able to make yourself prepare for it. 

“It’s not that,” you say. “But it’s-it’s the same thing.”

The word is too vulgar. She turns back around.

“Thing? If it’s not your monthly then how can it be the same thing?”

“I mean,” you fluster, “It’s the same area.”

“You mean your cunt?” she asks bluntly. You gape at her. “This is a medical environment. Use the proper terms.”  You continue to gape at her but she doesn’t seem phased.  “What’s happening to your cunt?”

You gather yourself as best as you can.

“It-“

“My cunt,” she cuts you off. You look at her, lost. “Say it. I told you to use the proper terms. Say my cunt,” she makes a continue gesture.

“M-my cunt,” you force out and the smile she gives you in return warms you and makes that feeling grow, “feels…,” you hadn’t thought this far ahead, “weird.” You settle on.

“Weird how?” Her eyes trail down your form. “Itchy. Hot. Tingling. Wet?” 

She steps closer with every word. You swallow harshly and look anywhere but at her.

“Um, tingling. And the last one,” you say quickly. 

“Is there a colour to this wetness?” She asks, close enough to accidentally brush against. 

You shake your head.

“I see,” she says and her eyebrows furrow a little.

“You see?” your ask worriedly at her expression. “You see what?”

“It’s probably nothing,” she tries to wave you off.

It doesn’t feel like nothing. It feels like you’re going to go crazy. 

“But if it isn’t nothing, then what would it be?” your hands twist anxiously in the skirt of your dress.

“I can’t be sure yet. Hop up,” she taps the empty batch. You hesitate before lifting yourself to sit on the edge. “Now, this can be a little awkward but I need to be sure.”

“What can be awkward?” you ask as she steps closer.

She taps the inside of your knees and you open them without really thinking. She steps between them and you stare up at her with wide eyes. She’s close. Close enough that she’s the only thing you can see. 

Her hand grasps the bottom of your dress and you stare up at her with wide eyes. She doesn’t look away as she lifts the skirt of your dress to your hips.

“What are you doing?” you ask, sounding breathless.

“I need to check for myself. There’s no point upsetting you if it’s nothing.”

“You’re going to…?” you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“I’m going to touch your cunt. Yes.”

You swallow harshly, your mouth suddenly dry. You don’t stop her when she pushes your legs further apart or when she begins to pull down your underwear. You try not to squirm. She’s a healer. Like she said, she’s seen everything. There’s nothing to be embarrassed or nervous about. It’s still hard not to be when she finally looks at you there. 

“There’s no visual indications, which is a good sign, but I won’t be able to know until I touch,” two fingers stop inches from where you’re dripping and she looks up at you, “May I?”

There’s a look on her face you don’t have the name for you. You nod and her fingers gently run through your soaking folds. You gasp at the unfamiliar feeling. You look up at the ceiling when you realise it feels good. You don’t want the healer to see it on your face. 

Her fingers run lower and your hips twitch as they run over that special spot you’re not meant to touch. She does it again with a bit more pressure and your hand flies to your mouth to stifle the embarrassing noise trying to escape it.

“Good,” she murmurs quietly to herself.

You think it’s over until she runs her finger higher and touches that thing. That sensitive something that you’ve only ever brushed. You can’t help gasping at the tingle it sparks. Agatha’s eyes lock onto you.

“Did that hurt?” she asks.

“No,” your voice cracks. “But it felt weird.”

“What about this?” Her finger circles and you cling to the table. “How does this feel?”

“I don’t-I don’t know. I-“ 

She presses down on that spot and the jolt it sends through you makes you close your legs. Her hips stop you. She sighs and pulls her hand away. You aren’t sure if you’re meant to be so upset about it.

“Did that make the feeling stronger?”

“Yes,” you manage to say.

“It’s not as bad as I thought.”

“It’s not?” you ask hopefully. 

“No pain crosses out a couple options. The treatment will be easier that way.”

You relax for the first time. An easy treatment means the thing happening to you will be over soon.

“Do I take something or is it a paste?” you ask, hoping you brought enough money. 

 “Have you ever been with someone, dear?” she asks, ignoring your question.

“Yes.” Of course you have, you aren’t a hermit. You have friends and there’s always those yearly family gatherings. You aren’t sure how a person can go through life without being with someone else. Wouldn’t you die as a baby?

Agatha raises an eyebrow and studies your expression. You shift uncomfortably.

“Let me put it a different way,” she says and her hands land on your thighs.  “Have you ever been fucked?”

“I-excuse me?” you stutter.

“It’s a simple question, dear. One I need answered as your healer.” 

“I’m not married,” you say.

“So? That doesn’t mean you’ve never snuck off with another girl and let her fool around under your skirts.”

You’re so embarrassed that you feel like you’re going to die.

“Only your spouse is allowed to touch you under there,” you murmur.  “And healers,” you quickly add on.  

The look she gives you is almost amused.

“So that’s a no?” she asks and you nod your head. “I didn’t think so,” she says.

You watch, confused, as she moves to the other side of the room and picks up a small purple jar. She returns to her spot between your thighs, you didn’t even think to close them. She takes off the lid and tilts the jar towards you.

You peer in curiously at the jar. The gel inside of it is clear and you can’t smell anything.

“You’ll need to apply this twice a day,” she says. When she doesn’t say where or how much you ask. “In your cunt, dear.”

“In?”

“It can be a little uncomfortable for someone who hasn’t been touched there before,” she says sympathetically.

She hands you the jar and you stare down at it with wide eyes.

“How far in?” Is the first thing you can think of. 

She snorts a little and you look up at her.

“All the way, dear.”

“How-how deep-“

She grasps your shaking hands. 

“How about I administer the first dose?”

Your stomach twists. The feeling that’s been haunting you grows.

“Yes, please,” you don’t want to do it wrong.

You watch, almost entranced, as she takes the jar and dips two fingers into the liquid. She swirls them around for a few moments before scooping some out. She runs her fingers over you the spot you aren’t allowed to touch and you gasp at the cool feeling. One finger gently circles your entrance.

“I’ll go easy on you,” she murmurs.

She begins to slowly push one finger inside of you and you cling desperately to the table. The feeling is new and strange and you feel a slight stretching sensation. You look up from the strange, exciting image of a finger entering you to find Agatha focused solely on your face, analysing your every reaction. Embarrassment runs through you but can’t bring yourself to look away. Your breathing is heavy and it’s hard to think about anything other than her.

She pulls out before she’s all the way inside of you and you whimper at the sudden empty feeling. You’re surprised at how heavily you’re breathing and how desperately you want her back inside of you. 

“You’re tighter than I thought,” Agatha says, her voice now has a rougher edge to it. “I’m going to need to use more fingers to properly coat your insides.” 

“More?” your voice cracks and you try to hide how eager you are.

“It’ll feel the same as before,” she reassures as her fingers return to your entrance. “Just a bit tighter.”

She doesn’t give you time to question, she pushes two wet fingers inside of you. She’s just as slow as the first time and you fight yourself to keep still as every inch makes that feeling inside of you grow.

“It’s making it worse,” you gasp. 

You thought the mixture was meant to stop this feeling inside of your cunt.

“Take it,” she says warningly and you whimper. “This won’t work if we can’t get it deep enough and you need to be wide open for me to do that.”

You don’t fight as she pushes deeper.  You cling to her shoulders and try to open your legs wider, hoping that will help with the stretch. You whimper when she gets to her second knuckle and you can feel the shiver that runs through her at the sound.

“Good girl, almost there,” she says. 

The name makes the tingling spread and you desperately hope she calls you it again.

Her fingers stop and you look down. They’re fully inside of you. It makes the feeling grow more and you have to focus on staying still to not embarrass yourself further.

“Is that it?” you ask, a slight whimper to your words.

“Not quite,” Agatha says, she’s got a smile on her face you haven’t seen before but it quickly transforms back into her professional mask. “We have to make sure it’s spread evenly.”

“How-”

She pulls her fingers half-way out before pushing back into you. A noise you’ve never made before escapes you. There’s a look on her face that you don’t have time to question as she does it again. And again and again. You try to count how many times she moves in and out of you to distract yourself from the wave of pleasure growing and growing inside of you. It doesn’t work. All you can concentrate on is the feeling of her fingers. How good it feels every time she thrusts back into you. How much you don’t want her to stop.

“I’m not deep enough,” she says and your confusion comes out in a whimper. It feels like she is. It feels like she’s reached the deepest part of you. “I’ll have to use another finger.”

“I-I can’t take that much,” you say with a slight whine.

Two fingers feel good, they feel so good but the idea of her adding another scares you. Two barely fit. Yet the memory of how the stretch turned into spine-tingling pleasure has you willing to take anything she gives you.

“You will,” she says and slips in her third finger without anymore warning. 

Your cry quickly turns to a moan as the feeling inside of you intensifies. Agatha makes a small sound when she looks down at her hand. She slows down and your hips buck in protest. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t feeling overwhelmingly good.

She curls her fingers and that feeling triples.

“Something’s happening,” you say in a high pitched voice.

“Let it,” Agatha says, the reassurance from before gone as she concentrates solely on her fingers. She curls them again and hits something deep inside of you. You throw your head back and moan as that feeling snaps and your body floods with pleasure. It pulses inside of you in a never ending loop.

 Agatha slows down but doesn’t stop until your exhausted body tilts forward and leans against her.

She gently pulls out and you make a protesting noise. The feeling of being so empty upsetting after being full for the first time. She chuckles quietly and wipes off her wet fingers on your thigh. 

She quietly lets you get your strength back. Hands firmly holding you but not caressing. Your breathing is steadier when you pull back but it hitches at the look on her face. Her pupils are blown and she almost seems to be drinking you in with her eyes.

“Good,” she says and steps back. You feel a little lost. Agatha wipes her hand on a clean rag before picking up the jar again. “Repeat every two days. Let’s say, six times.”

You nod mutely and take the jar. You don’t get up. You don’t think your legs can hold you just yet.

“What happened at the end…” you trail off hoping Agatha will fill in the rest. She doesn’t. “Was I-was it supposed to?”

Agatha huffs a laugh.

“Yes, dear,” she says, “You needed to for the mixture to take effect properly.”

“Oh,” the tight hold embarrassment has loosens. Then anxiety takes hold. “Does that mean I need to do that?”

“Yes,” Agatha says with a secret smile. 

You swallow nervously.

“Like how you did it?”

“There are a few other ways but I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

You nod and fiddle nervously with the jar as you try to imagine pushing your own fingers inside of you. The idea isn’t unpleasant. You’re more worried about someone discovering you. Will they believe that a healer has told you to? How are you meant to prove otherwise if they don’t? Drag them down to Agatha? If they really believe you’re breaking such a rule they won’t give you time to do so.

Agatha must see the look on your face.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Lock the door, pull up your dress. It shouldn’t take too long with how sensitive you are,” she says and you fluster at her crassness. “Don’t be afraid to come back if you need some help with applying the mixture.”

You nod meekly and take the jar.

“I will.”

[livelaughlovesubs]

Dom!reader x sub!scarletella

Warning: fictional stuff - stimulation through a separate object (?), inspired by some fanarts (artists are amazing), teasing, degrading pet names

I’m seeing so many fanarts that have this implanted and I HAVE to do something about my horniness that’s holding me back from working so, as far as I understand, for mr. Scarlettela his real body is his umbrella or it’s at least connected to him - anyway, can’t believe I’m writing about homicipher bruh, I feel ashamed T^T

!!Spoiler warning!! This is not canon but has some elements from it

He is a good boy, he really is! Well, maybe not at all times, but he’s trying his best for you. And haven’t you seen just how much he loves and trusts you? He’s basically devoted to you! Like a faithful follower~ Handing the red umbrella he always carries over to you so easily, when he normally would never let anyone touch it, let alone give or lend it. It’s just proof of how much he likes you!

So why were you so mean and destroyed it? You like him, didn’t you know that his umbrella is connected to him? Why were you hurting him. He didn’t understand, he didn’t even know what to do. Because in the end, he still liked you.

Now this over 8 feet tall creature was kneeling in front of you, head lowered in confusion as he stared at the concrete floor. You were still holding the now broken umbrella, scoffing as you stared down at his rather pathetic form. It wasn’t entirely broken, just some bend metal and rough ends, or a little tear here and there. Yet for some reason his clothes were torn and disheveled, hands shaking slightly as he kept mumbling the words ‘I don’t understand’ or ‘I like you’ over and over again. At first he seemed intimidating, but now you didn’t have an ounce of fear left.

There must have been a connection between him and this umbrella. Instead of speculating, best just ask him.

Slowly you pointed the long object in your hand at him, the tip pushed below his chin as you made him look up at you. His round, almost completely dark eyes stared right at you, one side was covered by his crimson hair. There were tears steaming down his cheeks, he was crying, how unexpected. The two of you locked eyes for a few seconds, and you wondered what you should do about this crazed man.

While their language was hard to grasp at first, you were getting the hang of it by now. “This umbrella, is you?” The meaning of the question itself was unbelievable, but since this ghost realm exists, maybe your hypothesis wasn’t that out of place. “Yes. Me body.” Look at that, you were right. That explains why he suddenly got so sad. You groaned internally and pulled your arm back, using the umbrella as a cane instead.

As you were still thinking over your next step, his hands reached out to you hesitantly, and softly tugged at the ends of your coat. After stretching the fabric out a little, he leaned his forehead against it, mumbling almost inaudibly, “please don’t go, I like you.” You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth subconsciously moving upwards as you snickered, “What?” His grip got a little tighter and his hand trembled from tensing his muscles so much, then he said a little louder, “I like you, don’t you like me?”

God you wanted to laugh, this was so sad it was laughable. How in the world did he come to that conclusion? In that moment, you had a lot to say it him, but due to the language barrier you couldn’t convey it really well. So you just talked to yourself, needing some time to vent.

“Oh you poor thing.” You chuckled in your own language, the one he didn’t understood. “What am I supposed to do with a perv like you?” He looked up at you again, wanting to ask what you said if not for your shoes that were pressing against his chest. “..what?” The person- or monster asked, but he didn’t resist your touch and leaned back, following your guidance. From earlier up to this point, he has been kneeling, just this time he was also using his arms behind his back to stabilise himself.

Without changing the almost arrogant look in your eyes, you used the gift he gave you to trace some imaginary lines on his body. The tip glided from his jawline to the tip of his chin, and you asked, “your name?” The heavy tension was something he also caught on, and he hesitated, not knowing to what this would lead. He shook his head, forcing out a “don’t know…”

You hummed slowly, showing you understood the message. Nonetheless, you continued to move the tip down his neckline all the way to his toned collarbones, “I’ll give you a name.” His eyes widened even more, it made him look objectively creepier, but you thought he looked like a dumb puppy. All big eyes, bearing a deep need and raw desire in his pupils. “How about,” then, just like drawing with a stick in the mud, you traced the word, “Scarlet,” over his chest, simultaneously voicing out the word.

He shuddered as the hard surface scribbles around his torso, squeezing his lips together while he tried to stay still for you. You weren’t being exactly gentle there. When you stopped to glance at him, he quickly nodded. That wasn’t the end to your little play yet, and you slid the pointy end across his abs and stomach, down to his thighs, making him spread them a little wider, “I gave you a name, so you’ll be my servant from now on. Understood?” This has been said in your language, but you hoped he’ll get the overall meaning.

Again he nodded. In his head, being your servant meant you liked him, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t keep him around! So how could he ever say no.

“Use your mouth.” You ordered, digging the tip into his flesh a little, and he answered shortly after, “I understand, me happy.” Sweat was forming on his forehead, and his previous crying ceased. Instead a faint taint of pink covered his cheeks, and he stared at you almost manically. “Good.” You said, which was basically a praise— right? —and he smiled, a shaky, breathless one.

A little behind you was a chair, and you dragged it closer to the still kneeling man below you. Even you were starting to get tired of standing, so you sat down in a comfortable position. “What now.” You said to yourself, not really paying him any attention anymore. It would be nice if you had a collar, would red or black look better on him? But your resources were limited, and you didn’t exactly have a lot of things with you as well. That’s when you absentmindedly thought over what you did own.

Besides that crowbar you’ve found down here, you really didn’t have a lot. Well, you also had a broken umbrella now— hold up, that’s right, you own him now. A rather sadistic thought came to mind, and you pondered to what limit you could control him with this red, unusual umbrella. Would he feel your presence when you just hold it? You got lost in your thoughts again, fumbling with the torn textile and the handle. This didn’t stop until a strange sound caught your attention.

Your eyes left the red batch of fabric in your hands, and instead wandered to the other red thing in the room. He crawled into a ball, arms folded in front of his body while his head pressed against the ground. It looked like he was in pain again, though you weren’t sure if these noises were whimpers of pain or pleasure. “You okay?” You eventually asked, and he whispered in a higher pitch, “me okay..!”

Once again your gaze returned to the umbrella. He must be in this state due to something you did, and so you tightened your grip around the handle while mindlessly drawing a line with your index finger on the panel. As expected, his shoulder jerked upwards even more, and he rolled more together, as if he wanted to take up as little space as possible. His entire body was twitching, also for some reason his coat was only hanging off his arms now.

“You are into it.” You commented, not even too shocked to learn this rather unnecessary fact. At least you can have your fill of fun with this. “What about this?” Suddenly you started moving your hand up and down the handle, rubbing the umbrella panel with the other hand. It was a truly humbling experience to do something implied sexual to a literal object, but your eyes were glued to the ghost before you, so you didn’t even notice how weird it must have looked.

And sure enough, there was a change in his behaviour, he got louder. Your smile widened involuntarily, and your pace also got quicker and rougher. Oh fucking hell, if he was really feeling that kind of sensations, you won’t be able to stop yourself. It was like you were hypnotised, concentrated on nothing but his expressions. On the different ways his face twisted into one of ecstasy.

A big, dark, lunatic grin, paired with fanatic eyes that were ripped wide open. Some hints of a scarlet blush covering his face while sweat rolled down his face. Those perverse sounds he made were proof of the probably internal pleasure he felt, and he quivered all over, still bend down on the floor. Now that you’ve got a better grasp of what was happening, you realized he was crawled together to hide something.

“Ngh, hgGnn- ah..! Please…♥︎～” he whined at your feet, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth and landing on the floor. You’ve been fumbling with the handle for some time, so you’ve gotten bored again and was curious about if the textile was a part of his being as well. Without a second thought, you simply stuck two fingers between the folds, and you were met with a heavily muffled moan.

“Arghhh-…MmmHFfffF～ ♡♡♥︎” Once he felt your touch, he bit into his own palm to quiet himself down. At some point he started crying again, glistening tears decorating his already ruined face. You didn’t think his reaction would be this good, this lewd, whatever you did, he must have liked it a lot. Which is why, despite the absurdity of your actions, you moved your fingers in and out of the holes or just randomly caressed whatever part you felt like touching.

Out of nowhere you felt something tugging at your coat again, it gave off a sense of Deja vu. Of course it was him, who was only pinching the corner of it with a shaky hand. His grip had lost any strength compared to before, and you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. “What?” You asked him, though you didn’t stop your administrations. He cried out when he opened his mouth to speak, breaking down in front of you, for your entertainment only.

“Haaaa-HnnGh… wait, p-please wait-!♡” Was he telling you it was too much? It’s making you want to overstimulated him even more. He was being so pathetic it was cute. Without wasting a single second, you went as fast as you could, blatantly ignoring his pleads. Based on your own observations, he must have been close, if he was similar to a real person. “Feels good?” You asked, to make sure he was alright. He didn’t reply again and only nodded all weakly, but you’ll let it slide this time.

He felt so hot and strange, it was a nice but unfamiliar feeling. Not only that, he felt something burning building up inside him and it was threatening to spill. That’s why he wanted you to slow down. Poor thing was confused, absolutely baffled what this warm feeling was. Is it love? It must be love. He loved you and you loved him after all. All in all it wasn’t a bad feeling, and since you seemed happy, he is too!

Another sudden wave of pleasure coursed through him, his eyes were clouded with lust and bliss, and the dirty whimpers that slipped past his lips got more erotic by the second. How desperate and lovesick he sounded, begging, pleading, squirming and trashing around on the spot. Thighs pressed together while his toes curled, back arched as a last moan ripped from his throat, “nnNgGHhh ♡♥︎ ♡～” Just as you predicted, that must have been his climax. Now’s the question, did he came in his pants? Did such things still have a reproductive system?

My my, it seems that is the case, whatever it was it seeped through the dark fabric of hi trousers, causing an even darker spot to appear.

You only caught glimpses of it since he was hiding his own body so much, but you were content nevertheless. Since he was so obedient the entire time, you decided to be nice to him with the limited vocabulary you had. “Cute.” His kneeling figure was still shuddering and twitching, ragged gasps and pants were also coming from him. But for him, the only thing he could hear was your voice ringing and echoing in his mind, as well as the awfully loud beats of his own heart.

After all this time, you finally praised him! Well you did before but this time he was sure of it! And you found him cute! He was so happy he couldn’t stop grinning. That’s when you said, “do you want anything?” It was to kind of make up for making a fool out of him, or maybe for breaking his umbrella. He didn’t even think before quickly turning his head up, slurring out, “g-give me you name?” You blinked, that wouldn’t have been what you wished for but oh well. Right before you simply told him the answer you stopped yourself, and responded teasingly, “call me master.”

You weren’t sure if he knew the meaning behind it, but it didn’t matter. He had a blank look for a few seconds, mumbling to himself, most likely repeating that word a thousand times. While he did that, he let his head hang low again, facing the floor. His hair hid his face really well, and you couldn’t read his expression. “You alright?” You asked once the silence started to make you feel uneasy.

He placed both his hand on the floor and leaned down, until his face was hovering centimetres above your shoe, and he whispered eagerly, excessively so, “I’m happy, master. I love you.” Before kissing the tip of your shoe. You stared down in disbelief, a shiver running down your spine. He was more of a freak than you thought.

The moment he was done, you grabbed a fistful of his hair, proceeding to yank on it, making him face you on eye-level while he gasped in surprise. Your other hand clutched the umbrella more tightly, causing him to groan slightly. “Stupid dog.” You chuckled with a sinister smile spread across your face, watching as hearts appeared in the middle of his pupils.

[gingerschnaps]

stealing Jason's helmet and being a tad grossed out because it's kinda damp and sweaty and a bit large on you but you can't help admiring yourself in it.

you test the voice modulator and say the most stupid shit and eventually you start mimicking the lines you heard Jason say sometimes when he's in Red Hood mode, all that to say you were fairly distracted. So you didn't even notice you never actually know how to take it off.

Luckily your boyfriend is near, and while helpful and ever so lovely, he's also amused and slightly mean about how you managed to get yourself stuck on things like a cat who got it's claw's stuck to the curtains and had the audacity to look mad when you try to help them.

Once he got the helmet opened up however, he leans down with that same amused smile and that sparkle in his eyes that holds so much unspoken affection before kissing you, it was a soft, chaste peck, barely enough and yet so sweet, it's almost enough to soothe your bruised ego.

well, you don't mind getting stuck on stupid things as long as he keeps kissing you.

[charliemwrites]

Just had a vivid image of being 141’s collective GBF but not in the toxic way. In the genuine, these are my best friends, my brothers, and we look out for each other - but they especially look out for you.

You don’t walk anywhere alone on base, esp at night. They scowl at men that even look at you too long, hands straying towards their weapons to make a point. You can spar with anyone on base but if you end up bloodied, your opponent has a 1 in for 4 chance of guessing who his next opponent will be.

Youre their precious little sister figure. Combat with ghost, engineering with soap, tactics and strategy with Gaz, sniper with Price. At any given time you can lean on one of them, steal things out of their belts, feed them from your own hand, knick food off their plates or sips from their cups.

You’ve never had your own place to stay because you bounce around to their apartments. Usually end up with Ghost, but if he’s away on a mission, you’re happy to sleepover with any of the boys.

You’ve all seen each other asleep, sick, naked, half-dead, highs and lows and everything in between. You’re a unit. And they look out for you as if you’re blood to each and every one of them.

Right? Right.

So imagine the alarms bells when you’re separated from them on a covert op. You’re still on the radio, voice low, but you curse and tell them you have to go dark - someone’s coming.

Imagine the dwindling nerves when you don’t come back on comms. When they reach exfil and wait one minute… two… seconds drawing out and window to stay undetected closing.

Ghost goes back in to find you because it’s ghost.

Imagine the heart in throat terror when he finds a KorTac operative pinning you in a dark, too-quiet corner. Ghost can hear you breathing loud and fast from meters away, can see the whites of your wide eyes.

He draws a knife and throws it without hesitation, but you’ve seen him, which has drawn the enemy’s attention as well. The knife hits the man’s shoulder instead of his neck, but the distraction is enough for you to slip away. A high-pitched squeak in the back of your throat as you flee to the safety of your LT, an uncharacteristic weakness in your spine.

“Wha’ ‘appened?” Ghost growls, grabbing your shoulders, looking you over for obvious injuries. When you just shake your head, hand white-knuckled in the straps of his vest, he snarls. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘im.”

“There’s no time, LT, we have to go,” and it’s true but you’re nearly pleading. This isn’t a retreat this is an escape. It’s all wrong wrong wrong.

But you dig your heels in and tug sharply when he shifts as if to lunge at the KorTac operator - now watching you both with head tilted, flat eyes calculating.

“Ghost,” you practically whine, “come on.”

He shakes his head as if to dispel the suspicious cloud of anger overtaking his thoughts and follows you out.

The KorTac operator stands right where he was left, plucking the knife from his shoulder to stare contemplatively at the blood dripping from it. Shame you didn’t take it with you, a souvenir to remember him by. Well, there’s always next time.

[sleepy-steve]

pt 2 of steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.9k // pt 1 ♡

—

november 1984

Eddie checks. Of course he checks. Asks around, eventually to his superiors to make sure he wasn’t going to get in trouble for not collecting Steve. It’s uncommon, they tell him, rare, even. But not unheard of. People die briefly and come back to life. Usually only the one time. The answer should be good enough. Should be. Isn’t though. It frustrates Eddie to no end. Months of wondering and ruminating with the firm belief that he won’t get to see Harrington again anytime soon to ask.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

This time Eddie is on the boat. Leaning over the edge, a hand dangling low to the black water, staring at the same patch of grass he first saw Steve sitting. In fairness, all souls appeared in that general area. But Eddie is fixated on the exact spot Steve had shown off his deep chest wounds. It’s for this reason that Eddie jumps three feet into the air when Steve materialises in the same spot again less than a year later.

Sitting up with a rattling gasp and a look of fury on his bashed-in face—again?! Eddie briefly thinks—Steve yells, “Fucking Hargrove!”

“Christ, Harrington!” Eddie shouts, hand over his chest despite the distinct lack of heartbeat. “Could give a guy a bit of warning.”

Steve looks around, eyes surrounded by more dark bruising taking a second to focus on Eddie, chest heaving as he calms down. “Shit, sorry, man.”

They just look at each other for a few long moments, Eddie standing like a frightened cat on his still wobbling boat. He clears his throat to break the silence. “Who, uh. Who’s Hargrove?”

Scoffing, Steve drags a hand down the side of his face, then winces as it passes over bruising. “Douchebag new guy.” He sighs, settling his forearms on his knees. “His sister is friends with some kids I know. Was coming after them, so I…” Trailing off, Steve gestures to his face.

“What? Offered yourself up as a human punching bag and got yourself killed? Again?” Eddie says, trying not to sound too judgemental.

“Yeah, well,” Steve sighs. “I wasn’t just gonna let him beat up a kid. They’ve been through enough without some dickhead coming in and kicking the shit out of them.”

Eddie feels his brows pull together slightly as he sits back down on the bench of the boat, arms crossed over the edge. It’s not like Harrington was the big bully of Hawkins High, but defender of local kids is… new. “Sounds like a grade-A asshole.”

Steve snorts. “He is.”

“Kids were lucky to have you around as their… babysitter?” Eddie offers, cracking a grin.

Steve rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Something like that. Probably didn’t need me at all. Stuck around long enough to see her drug him, so they should be fine.”

Humming appreciatively, a thought moves across Eddie’s mind, and he can’t help himself. “…No monsters this time?”

“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know you don’t believe me, but the monsters did actually come back, which is why I was with those little shits in the first place.” He sounds annoyed, but there’s a fond look behind those bruised eyes. One that gives Eddie a little spark in his chest. “But no, this death was just a regular guy.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort. “This death. So casual.”

A full grin breaks out on Steve’s face, contrasting heavily with the bruises and the blood under his nose. “Well, when it’s happened this many times, kinda hard not to view it as like. Just this thing that happens, y’know?”

Eddie doesn’t really know. Of everything he’s learnt about death—through his own and through everyone he’s met since—this thing Steve goes through is beyond him. Incomprehensible. He nods anyway.

“How many times have you died, Harrington?”

“Hmm…” Steve looks up as he thinks for a moment. “This would be… five? Or six?” He shrugs. “I’m not sure if it happened when I was a baby.”

He says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, Eddie almost wants to double-take. It sounds so truthful, he struggles to not believe him. Even though Eddie knows he’s not losing much by believing him, a small part of him still has doubts. And worries for his job. “You gonna get in the boat this time?”

Steve snorts. “Not this time, buddy.” Something jolts in Eddie’s chest at the familiarity. “Maybe next time though.”

“Next time,” Eddie mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “You anticipate dying again?”

“Well, no,” Steve chuckles. “But based on how things have been… and apparently I’m not too careful.” He gestures at his bruised up face, eyes bright with humour between the blues and purples and reds.

“The monsters?” Eddie supplies, just teetering on the edge of sarcasm.

“Monsters, douchebag guys, car wrecks… you just never know.”

The casual tone in which Steve talks about his deaths still has Eddie reeling. It’s been well over a year and Eddie is surrounded by death constantly, and he still struggles to think about his own. Tells himself he’d rather not dwell, which is true, but it also hurts. He shakes it off, shifting his focus to the bruised and beaten boy in front of him.

“Or… you could save yourself the trouble, and get in the boat now?” Eddie gestures down at his boat with a little hand flair. He’s joking. Mostly. If Steve did have the chance to go back to the land of the living, Eddie didn’t want to take that away from him. Not that he thought Steve was getting that chance. Not completely, anyway.

“Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” Steve grins at him, like they’re sharing a secret. And they kind of were. Eddie wasn’t sure how many people knew about Steve’s semi-regular dances with death.

“And since when have you ever been one to stick to the rules?” Eddie asks, propping his arm up and resting his chin on his palm. Looking at the boy on the grass. His hair is longer this time.

Steve laughs, head tilted back. “Fair point. But if you want me on that boat, you’re gonna have to come over here and drag me onto it.” He raises a brow at Eddie in challenge.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” He repeats Steve’s words back at him, mocking him.

“Well, well, well,” Steve says, tone playful. “Look who’s being a stickler for rules now.”

“I know,” Eddie drags it out, struggling to hold back his smile. “Crazy, huh? Divine punishment for being born the son of a criminal, I guess.” Eddie’s gaze drops down to the black water beneath him.

Steve scoffs at him. “Like you never smoked pot or broke speeding laws in that van of yours.” 

Eyes widening before he can stop them, Eddie’s shocked Steve even knows about the van. Shocked that Steve knows anything about him at all. What world is he in where the king of Hawkins High knows about Eddie and his beat up old van? Even being in the grade below him, Steve had a popularity pull that was noticed by those in Eddie’s grade. Confusion and surprise subsiding, Eddie finds himself leaning forward even further.

“Coming from you?” Eddie challenges back. “We all know about the famous Harrington ragers, Mister Keg King.”

The title makes Steve roll his eyes. “Never saw you at one.”

It was true. Eddie hadn’t attended any of the parties, for fear of his reputation making him a target. He drops his gaze again. “Didn’t think I’d be welcome there.”

Steve doesn’t respond, and the silence grows between them. They haven’t moved, but Eddie feels further away from him. Like the weird little familiarity they’d developed was being forcefully shoved apart. Eddie doesn’t look up to see Steve’s reaction. Doesn’t want the pity.

“So, you really can’t get out of the boat?” Steve breaks the silence with a complete topic change.

“Nope,” Eddie responds, popping the P. “She’s my new baby, now that I don’t have my van.” He pats the side of the boat with his free hand.

Steve shifts forward until he’s sitting as close as he can to the water’s edge without getting wet. Close enough for Eddie to see the broken capillaries under his skin and the little green flecks in his eyes. He takes in the cuts on Steve’s jaw and forehead, the two black eyes, the blood under his nose. The way his knuckles are bruised and bloodied to match. Something in Eddie feels oddly… protective. Like he wants to jump in front of anything that might hurt this guy he doesn’t even really know that well.

“Change your mind about getting in the boat?” Eddie asks, voice low, now that Steve is so close.

“No,” Steve huffs a laugh. “But you can’t move, so I figured I should.”

“Just that desperate to be close to me, are you?” It slips out of Eddie’s mouth before he can think about it. And Eddie wants to punch himself in the face over it.

But to his surprise, Steve doesn’t recoil away or yell at him. Instead, he laughs softly, cheeks faintly pink beneath the bruising. “What can I say? The allure of your… baby…” He says it with a smirk. “Very tempting.”

Taken aback by Steve’s… flirting is the only word to describe it, but that can’t be right, Eddie immediately switches to joke mode. He won’t entertain the idea that Steve Harrington was honest-to-god flirting with him. He won’t.

“I’ll get you into this boat one day, Harrington. Mark my words.” 

He knocks on the edge of the boat twice before smoothing his hand over the wood. Watches as Steve’s eyes follow his hand, seemingly fixated on it. Eddie briefly wonders what would happen if he touched Steve. Would that commit Steve to being stuck here? Commit him to moving on? Would Eddie even be able to feel him?

Gaze shifting back to Eddie’s face, a smile grows on Steve’s face. “Maybe. One day.” He shrugs, like his eventual death is a fun, whimsical topic.

Eddie is about to comment on Steve’s tone, but before he can, Steve’s head whips to the side, hearing something Eddie can’t. Just like last time.

Unlike last time, Steve doesn’t get up right away. “Looks like my time’s up.”

“How do you know?” Eddie is so curious, he can’t help but ask.

“I can hear—” Steve waves vaguely around his ear. “—stuff. From where I am. The kids are yelling. Hope they’re not too freaked out.”

“Guess you better get back then,” Eddie says, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Yep.” Steve pulls himself up into a standing position, now suddenly looking down at Eddie, who leans back on instinct, shifting back on the boat bench. “But I’ll see you next time.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie gestures at the boat, palm up. Like he has anywhere else to go. “See ya, Harrington. Stay away from monsters.”

“I’ll try,” Steve laughs, walking backwards on the grass. Keeping his eyes on Eddie as he retreats.

“Try not to get that pretty face bashed in again,” Eddie calls after Steve’s already fading form, grinning wide.

Steve just laughs, the sound of it echoing even after his body disappears from Eddie’s sight.

[mail-me-a-snail]

TRUE BLU

It’s routine, at this point. There’s little room for variation. 

Even here, where novelty foregoes punishment--or even acknowledgment--he can’t bring himself to do more.   To do anything of significance.  To leave before he can let himself scratch this itch until it starts bleeding. Routine knows him by the divots in a rusty old keypad; by the phone number he calls every weekend. Their private performance.  Is it true freedom if it's planned all the way down to the letter; the number; the bone?

aaa here it is!!! finally!!!!!!! i hope you all enjoy :3 fic updates every saturday <3

textless and crop under the cut

[rae-butter]

Currently writing a character who has been basically trained by a system to live and die by the “survival of the fittest” “vulnerability is weakness” thinking, and writing her coming out of that way of thinking is forever fascinating,

However, it’s honestly sad to see how many times in media the character in a similar mentality begins and ends the arc that way, the only difference at the end of their “arc” being have friends who accept them the way they are and put up with their bad behavior despite the fact that it’s hurting the character in question and the people around them

the concept and idea of “you can always start trying to be a better person” is extremely important to me both in media and irl and i continue to be deeply deeply disturbed by the trend on this site pushing that these ideas in media are bad writing or even morally reprehensible

because theyd rather someone stay terrible or just straight up die than become a better person 

from a compassionate point of view it’s deeply distressing and from a pragmatic point of view it’s outright frustrating

it’s fucked up. 

[alivingtypo]

you can pry starting sentences with 'and' or 'but' out of my cold, dead hands

[write-on-world]

[number1villainstan]

reblogged this on my reblog sideblog and then decided I should also reblog it to my fanfic/fandom main blog.

Reblog if you write fanfic and would be totally down with your followers coming into you askbox and talking to you about your fic

[faeriekit]

"This fic was ai generated—" Cool, so lemme block you real quick