#i think extremely

[katsu28]

Steve and hugging from behind would be so cute 🥺

anything for u my dear nova <33 the hugging from behind part is literally just a speck in all this fluff oopsie but pls enjoy

steve harrington x reader, 1.4k

There was something about Steve Harrington that made you unbelievably nervous. A good kind of nervous, of course—the kind that sent your stomach into a fluttery mess and made your fingertips tingle every time he touched you.

You shouldn’t be nervous around him, but you’d been together for three months and still found yourself fighting the urge to unabashedly stare at him whenever you spent time with each other. 

Another reason to be nervous—you were spending the night at his place for the very first time.

It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend a whole day together, but you always went home at the end of the night (much to Steve’s dismay). So a few hours ago when he casually suggested you just stay the night instead of leaving and coming back in the morning, you almost freaked out. 

Now you were here, standing in his bathroom fresh out of the shower, staring at yourself in the fogged up mirror and willing yourself to just be normal. It was Steve. There was nothing to worry about. 

Steve was sprawled out on his bed when you finally mustered up the courage to make your way to his room, tossing a raggedy baseball above his head and catching it.

Well, trying to catch it was a more apt description. His focus immediately shifted to you as you padded in, the ball bouncing off the mattress next to his head and nearly hitting him in the face in the process before rolling onto the floor. He scrambled to his feet, ball forgotten. 

“Hi.” He said softly, smiling at you with the brightness that rivaled the sun. You echoed his greeting, clutching at the towel around you. “Uh, here. This is for you.” He held out a well worn looking shirt, soft cotton brushing against your fingers as you took it gratefully. “I can—I’ll turn around while you get dressed.” 

“Thanks, Steve,” You mumbled, suddenly feeling shy. There were those damn nerves again. Steve turned around like he said he would, rocking back and forth on his heels while you pulled the shirt over your body. It smelled like laundry detergent and cologne and so very Steve you decided right then and there you were definitely keeping this shirt. “You can turn around now.” 

He whirled back around, letting himself take in the sight of you in his clothes. It was something straight out of a dream he’d had a few times. “You’re so pretty.” 

“You’re not so bad looking yourself.” 

Steve preened at the compliment, looking mighty pleased. He’d already changed while you were in the bathroom, clad in only a pair of old Hawkins High sweatpants slung low on his hips. 

His chestnut hair was free of product, fluffy and a little all over the place with a artful curl hanging over his brow. You had to fight the urge to brush it out of his eyes, though you suspected he probably wouldn’t have minded one bit if you did. 

“C’mere,” He murmured, stretching out an arm towards you. The look in his eyes held so much warmth, so fond and sickly sweet you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d ended up with a toothache come morning time. It spurred you forward, folding yourself into Steve’s embrace like it was second nature. Like it was where you belonged. His nose dipped into your hair and he inhaled, arms wrapping around you tight. 

“Did you just sniff me?”

“You smell really nice.” He defended meekly, cheeks turning an embarrassed pink. You kissed him to remedy it, smiling against his lips when he kissed you back immediately. His hand rubbed along your back whilst he maneuvered the two of you towards the bed without managing to break the kiss, but the need for air unfortunately won out. 

Steve pulled the covers over the two of you swiftly, settling close—but not too close, in case you liked to have your own space while you slept. 

You tucked yourself snug against his side instead, cheek pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you again, and you were content there. The sound of his heartbeat hammered a million miles a minute in your ear, and it made you feel a little better knowing that he was just as nervous as you were. It actually eased your own nerves a tenfold. 

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?” Steve asked worriedly. It was cute how attentive he was. You wanted to tell him that being wrapped in his arms was one of the comfiest places in the world, but just opted for a nod, nuzzling a little closer to him in lieu of an answer. Steve still got the message loud and clear, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

It didn’t take long for either of you to fall asleep, you because of the steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest, and him because of the soothing warmth you radiated. He could fall asleep like this every night and still never get tired of it. 

-------

You were expecting Steve to be next to you when you woke up the next morning. But when you opened your eyes and rolled over to look at him, the space beside you was empty. 

He was in the kitchen when you finally found him, standing at the stove when you padded in, humming along to the song playing softly from the radio over on the other counter. His back was towards you as he poured batter into a pan on the stove. 

A sizeable stack of perfect pancakes sat on a plate beside him, with crispy edges, just the way you liked it. You wondered how he knew that, seeing as you’d never told him before. Then again, Steve always seemed to know what you liked. 

You crossed the room quiet as a mouse, sliding your arms around him once you were close enough. 

Letting out a surprised noise at the feeling of your embrace, it only took him a second to realize it was you.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He hummed, settling his free hand over your linked ones at his navel. You pressed your forehead between his shoulder blades, reveling in the warmth of his freckled skin and stayed there for a while, feeling him inhale and exhale with every breath he took. It was quite soothing. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Good. Really good.” 

“Sure sounded like it, what with the way you were snoring in my ear the whole night.” 

“I was not!” You gasped, rearing back. Steve’s body shook with laughter, and you realized he was just poking fun at you. “You’re an asshole.” 

“An asshole who’s making you breakfast right now.” He pointed out, flipping the pancake for good measure.

“True. You’ve been promoted to just a little shit then.” 

“Lucky me.” Steve snorted. “As much as I love this, you’re kinda cramping my style. I don’t wanna accidentally elbow you when I try to wow you with my triple pancake flip. Go sit at the counter and do what you do best—look pretty.” 

You obliged, but not before sighing overdramatically. “Trying to get rid of me already, Harrington?” 

“Dunno…is it working?” 

“Just for that comment, no, it isn’t working.” You huffed, propping your chin up in your hand. 

“Oh, good. Was kinda planning on keeping you around for a while.” 

“Just a while?” 

Steve shrugged without turning around. “Maybe forever.” 

You sat in silence with his words, maybe a little longer than you meant to, because Steve whirled around, brows crinkled with worry. 

“I’m sorry. Was that—that was too much, wasn’t it?” He blurted, shuffling over to where you were. “Did I just make things super weird? I didn’t mean like forever forever, I just thought it sounded smooth. Which, obviously it didn’t ‘cause—” 

Leaning over the counter, you slid your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. This one was sweet and firm and had Steve melting faster than the pad of butter he’d placed atop the pancake stack. 

You let your forehead press against his when you pulled away. “I like forever.” 

“I do too.” He grinned, nearly going cross-eyed trying to look at you up close. He dotted another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Y’know, I’m really enjoying the whole shutting me up with kisses thing you’ve got going on lately. I think you should keep doing it.” 

“Oh, do you?” You chuckled, sitting back down in your seat. Steve came around the counter to slide onto the stool next to you, scooting your own stool close enough to his that his knees bracketed yours. Now it was his turn to bring you in for a kiss instead of an answer. 

Forever with Steve suddenly seemed like the best idea in the world, especially if it meant you’d get to have mornings like this all the time. 

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[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

Rio: *appears*

The Entirety of Team Witches' Road:

[luwha]

Tumblr: No NSFW! You know how it is we banned it because of the bots in 2018!

Also tumblr:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[yeyinde]

psychic!Reader being relentlessly stalked and terrorised by dead!Ghost.

He's not sure how he died, but considering the aura he has wrapped around him, it was vicious and violent. And while you're no stranger to helping the dead cross over when they need it, but he can't. Or won't. Everything you try doesn't work, and he soon decides that he's fine with that.

Prefers, instead, to follow you around. And at first, it's fine. He explores the world around him—intangible, untouchable—and asks snarky questions about why you're the only the one who can see him. How this came to be. But then he grows bored. Restless. Shifts into bad jokes. Taunts.

Finds the most amusement, though, in muttering in your ear about all the filthy things he'd do to you if he had his body back—in broad daylight, no less. All explicit, ugly things about testing your flexibility. Bending your knees to your ears. Getting that pretty little mouth on his cock—

Watches you shower. Drawls about having you put on a show for him. Slides into the bed with you when he can manipulate and solidify his form better. Icycold hands against your breasts. Squeezing your ass.

Most ghosts continue with their routine. Go on with their lives. Cogs in the machine. But he spends his time messing with you.

The problem, however, is that ghosts can only do much to interact with the physical world. Knocking things over. Stomping their feet down the halls. Saying a word. A name. A whisper. Cold air. Static. A slamming door.

But Simon's pinches hurt. His hand sometimes feels warm when he cups your beasts, or curls his palm over the nape of your neck, pulling you toward his groin only to huff when your face slips through it.

"not there yet, are we?" he drawls, but holds you there anyway just because he can.

Sometimes you have to remind yourself he's a ghost. A spectre. He can't really hurt you.

But when he nuzzles his face into your neck, and bites down so hard it burns, you find yourself unable to explain the raw, bloodied imprint of his teeth there the next morning. Or how warm, how solid, his body feels when he pulls you against his chest, hands groping at you as he stares at the mark he left with something primal twisting across his once pellucid face. Darkening with malintent. Desire.

Maybe you should have taken his threats a little more seriously after all.

[kindinb00]

[aridatinas-art]

something something ... Stanford "Why didn't Rudolf just kill the other reindeer?" Pines and Fiddleford "I create death-mechas when my feelings get hurt" McGucket

[mollysunder]

What I liked best about Jinx and Sevika's first post-Silco talk was how well it implies why their grief is so pronounced. Every complaint the two lodged at Silco was an admission at how dependent Silco had become on them, how much he LET himself be dependent. Silco didn't NEED to let Jinx give him his eye medicine, he was perfectly capable of doing so in season one's first act. The same could be said about Sevika, because while it wasn't nearly as extreme as with Jinx, he didn't need to give her so much responsibility. Frankly it's dangerous for a kingpin to give their righthand so much power (it's supposed to be spread around), and everyone noticed, even idiots like Finn.

That's why their loss is so pronounced, in all the years they dedicated to Silco, he gave up just as much of himself to them. Silco weakened himself and trusted Sevika and Jinx to make up for it. They filled eachother out, they needed eachother, and without him there's just a hole what they all used to give eachother.

[noxious-fennec]

Tunisian miku 🇹🇳👍

[egophiliac]

can't believe that skeleman has turned on us, and Halloween Prom is tomorrow.

(what a top-tier UM...we are about to be just totally obliterated in the absolute silliest way. what possible use could this power have outside of bringing us to the brink of utter holiday disaster.)

[bruciemilf]

There’s something off about Bruce.

Dick’s eye is trained for detail; He has to calculate every leap, every step, every breath, every count. He’s a showman. Everything is routine, and routine is everything.

Injury isn’t unusual, especially for his father .He out stubborns Tim in resisting medical examinations, after all.

For Bruce, secrets are protection. He lied about every injury he had when Dick was Robin, suffering in silent agony as the pain grew and grew, a tradition he carries on from Jason to Damian.

If Bruce screams, it’s bad.

“God fucking dammit, how the fuck does he do this? Who the fuck breaks their femur AND just carries on? Jesus FUCKING Christ.”

Bruce curses under his breath, profanity hushed. Dick’s veins freeze, blood turning to stone. He guesses his shock is obvious because Jason mirrors it to perfection.

One; Bruce doesn’t curse.

Two; He definitely doesn’t curse in a jersey accent.

The unease is pungent. Alfred practically tastes it, vitriolic as anything. His chest is taut, pulse slow, “Sir,” it’s cautious, “Shall I prepare the supplies?”

‘Bruce’ waves his hand, voice gruffer, lower, smokey, “Yeah, thanks, babe,”

Alfred blinks. And whoever pretends to be Bruce, blinks back, almost like a deer being cornered by an English hound, smile a bit boyish and unsure.

“…Thomas?”

“… Okay, you’re gonna laugh—“

Dick is reeling, because apparently:

His dead grandparents have been possessing his father throughout the years and they, wards to the best detective in the world, never caught on.

“Look, I get you’re pissed, BUT,” It’s so unbelievably weird watching Bruce be so expressive;

His hands move energetically, like they have their own voices, and his rain soft voice catches on fire when his father talks through him,

“This IS 50% MY body, technically.“

“Thomas, dear, that is not how that works. Come now, you’re scaring our grandchildren.”

And Jason’s voice is uncharacteristically soft when he speaks, more posh, more elegant . That is not his brother.

Alfred passes out, to no one’s surprise.

[windkonig]

when people say "ok but x bug has no benefit to nature" I bet they can't even name 5 facts about the bug they're shitting on. so how could they Possibly know what its function is in the environment and if it's "useless" or not

wasps being the perfect example, I still get people saying "oh bees are cute and pollinate :) yay. but WASPS ARE EVIL and they don't contribute ANYTHING!!!" and it's like buddy. wasps pollinate too. they also control spider populations. they do a lot of great valuable things. but even if they didn't, they're still worthy of being here. I see SO much hatred toward wasps and I wish people would try to learn a little more about them.

I'm mainly talking about paper wasps here because these are common ones we run into in daily life and most commonly deemed "aggressive". but wasps have body language. and if you learn to read this language and learn how to properly act around them, things will go a lot better for you! wasps can be curious creatures and they may come up to observe you, especially if you're wearing something brightly colored. this can be startling for sure, but my best advice is to just be still, DO NOT SWAT or wave your arms. try to just back away or sidestep so it loses interest and leaves. swatting is just gonna make them feel as if they are being attacked and increase your chances of being stung.

many stings happen due to unfortunate but accidental circumstances. unknowingly getting too close to a nest, stepping on a wasp on accident, one getting stuck in clothing, etc. I got stung once while gardening, went to pull a weed and the wasp was on it, so I grabbed her without knowing and she stung me because she was scared. this doesn't mean "oh wasps are AGGRESSIVE and EVIL" it means you stumbled into an unfortunate situation where the wasps felt threatened and defensive. instead of being like "FUCK all wasps" go forward trying to learn about common nesting areas, be wary of holes in the ground, wear gloves while gardening, and if you do have to be around a nest, try not to make a lot of noise. if the nest absolutely needs removed, call a professional.

[lazylittledragon]

they just got to have a sleepover and nothing bad ever happened at all

[ciderjacks]

dad issues

+

(I think they were all fundamentally affected by what they saw and just collectively decided not to share the upsetting details)

[anotherpapercut]

genuinely it will never stop baffling me how people will wear twilight shirts and talk about team Edward vs team Jacob and then the same people will be like "I'm not basing my personality off of a piece of media (harry potter) made by a transphobe 😌" like good that's great! so you can excuse racism but you draw the line at transphobia? good to know

[popuplee]

the thing that drives me sooo crazy about the jinx/isha/cait/vi confrontation is that for vi, it was a lose-lose situation. either caitlyn misses & accidentally hits isha (child witnesses enforcer violence), or caitlyn kills jinx in front of a child who cares for her (child STILL witnesses enforcer violence). Either situation parallels vi’s own past trauma. In that moment, it wasnt about jinx (at least not entirely). It was about vi’s catalyst for violent change about to be recreated and forced upon this child. Caitlyn said she understood how vi felt seeing her parents die, but demonstrated in this moment that she doesnt and literally CANT. caitlyn has never been on the other side or enforcer violence. the child didnt even compute to her��isha was just an obstacle to be avoided, not a person that will carry this experience forever. But vi’s been on the wrong end of a gun. She understood that no matter what, no matter who got hit, if she allowed caitlyn to shoot, vi would be recreating her own trauma. And THATS why she stopped cait