stayin’ alive

Steve Harrington x Mayfieldsibling!reader (also gn reader)

Summary: after watching your sister die and throwing Hawkins into an apocalyptic state, you reunite with Steve.

word count: 913

Warnings: huge season 4 vol 2 spoilers so if you haven’t seen it, do not read this. Mentions of death, general children in danger, depictions of grief, and a literal apocalypse.

Requested: by the lovely @imgoingtofreakoutnow 🥹💗 (thank you for being my first Stranger Things request! I really hope you enjoy this fic!) “I saw you're accepting some requests so could I request something with Steve? Maybe he and the reader reuniting after what happened right after Max died and the Upside Down opened in Hawkins? Just like, the two of them, running towards each other, hugging and making sure they're okay?”

Gif does not belong to me! Credits to creator! Thank you @firefly-graphics for the cute divider 💗

Max’s limp form hangs from your arms as Lucas watches on, tears streaming down his bloodied cheeks. He drops to his knees at the same time the tremors begin, tremors that lead to cracks in the floor, starting at your sister’s feet, extending outward. The cracks begin opening, widening beneath you, causing Lucas to scramble, dragging you to a safe corner of the attic space you’re occupying. You wished the cracks would consume you, wish Lucas would have let you fall into whatever hell lay below. He’s saved your sister more times than you can count, and he fought harder than hell to try save her this time. Small town minds are hard to change though, and Jason proved that tonight. If Jason hadn’t held you both at gunpoint, you might’ve been able to be there for Max. To save her.

The quaking lasts for minutes, so much destruction in such little time. The plan failed, and Hawkins was going to pay the price. When they finally stop, it’s the thought of Steve that gets you up and carrying Max out of the Creel house. Everything’s in slow motion as you stumble down the stairs, unsteady in this new reality. You think Lucas tries to say something to you, but nothing gets through the buzzing in your ears. The two of you carefully load Max into the car, your eyes unblinking as you close the door. Lucas says something again.

“Y/N.” He says, finally grabbing you by the arms and shaking you. You look away from your sister’s broken body and blink at him rapidly, tears streaming down your face. He looks you dead in the eye. “I felt a pulse.”

–

Hawkins Memorial is filled with crying, screaming, scared people. Once a pulse is confirmed by a nurse, Max is hauled away from you and Lucas, off to surgery to fix her broken bones.

“We need to find the others.” It comes out more monotonously than you intend. “We’ll be here when she gets out of surgery, but we need to find the others in the meantime. We need to know what happened.”

Lucas silently agrees, turning with you back into the parking lot. Hope mixes with dread mixes with anger as smoke rises in the sky, the town you’ve grown to love and hate collapsing beneath your tires as you pull out of the hospital parking lot, making your way to Eddie’s trailer park.

Minutes feel like hours as you find new ways to get anywhere in this new setting. Your right turn into the park is fast and bumpy and you hear Lucas’s protesting grunts as he holds onto the door for stability. From the entrance, you can see him exiting the Munson trailer. Steve looks tired, defeated, even from this distance. You push the gas pedal as far as it’ll go, speeding toward the group leaving the trailer.

Steve looks up in time to see you throw the car in park and open your door, exiting as quickly as you can to reach him. Your feet move of their own volition, running in Steve’s direction as he sprints to meet you. You collide in the middle, his arms enveloping you into him. You release a choked sob of relief as his warmth seeps into you, your bruised and bloodied Steve Harrington came out alive - again. Your arms wrap around his midsection and he squeezes you tightly.

“Are you hurt?” You demand, trying to pull away to examine him and any injuries he may have gained.

“Please, don’t let go,” He practically begs, lowering his face into your hair and kissing the top of your head. He relishes in the feeling of having you pressed against him, knowing you’re safe and here and alive.

“What happened?” You cry into him, gently wrapping your arms around him again.

“We thought we got him.” He says thickly. “We really did.” He pulls away just enough to look you in your eyes, red and swollen, and he knows without you needing to tell him that Max had died. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” You sob as he pulls you into him again, squeezing as much as he dares.

“She’s in surgery now.” You sniffle. Steve stills. He pulls away and looks at you, confused.

“What?” He blinks, his eyes searching your face.

“She died,” You confirm, a small hiccup escaping your throat. You hear Robin gasp from somewhere behind Steve. “But she somehow got a pulse back, after the gates opened. I don’t know what happened, but she’s alive.” You smile weakly, the mix of emotions turning it into more of a grimace. Steve turns to look at the group behind him, finding Dustin looking excitedly at Eddie next to him. Robin and Nancy stand side by side, looking at you with worried looks on their faces.

“So, the plan kind of worked then?” Dustin said, turning back to look at you.

“In a horrible, heart breaking, backwards kind of way.” You shrug tiredly. “She still died, and Hawkins still went to hell. The gates opened.”

“But we saved Max.” Dustin wouldn’t let anyone take that win away. He hugged Eddie, who blinked and awkwardly returned the hug, a small smile forming on his face.

The destruction around you disappears as Steve turns back to you, tilting your chin up. Despite the pain, fear, everything, Steve Harrington kisses you and, no, nothing was okay, but Steve was with you and would be, indefinitely.

griddlehark, in bed the kiss

Hello, could I have transfem Signora x fem!reader smut? Any scenario is fine, just need dom Signora railing me 😩

{☆} characters la signora {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, dom la signora, transfem la signora {☆} warnings 18+ content, restraints, temperature play, face fucking, degradation, pet play

There's a moment of silence that lingers for far too long, the cold nipping at your exposed skin until you feel shivers wrack your body. You squirm instinctively, seeking out the fading warmth of the thick furs laid out beneath you, yet finding nothing but the cold that chills you to your bones. You can't even see, your eyes covered by black fabric, silk tying your arms together behind your back.

It's almost torturous waiting like this. Your knees sink further into the fur as you lean your weight forward slightly, exhaling a shaky breath. You begin to wonder if Signora left you there– maybe you'd annoyed her earlier and she was punishing you. You hoped not. She wasn't known for being lenient when it came to punishments.

But the brush of her fingers along your jawline squashed that fear, your breath hitching as her thumb glided over your throat, the heat of her skin making you shudder. The contrast of the cold room, of your freezing body, to the unnatural heat that simmers beneath her skin is immense– your knees would have definitely buckled if you hadn't been kneeling already.

"Did you think I'd left you here all alone? You're shaking like a dog." The soft, biting lilt was nothing more than a murmur, but for you it was impossible not to hear the pleased tone beneath the roughness of her voice. Your heart leaps into your throat when her fingers trace back up along your jawline, lifting your head and tilting it back just enough to be uncomfortable.

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are silenced by her thumb slipping past your lips instead– you don't fight back, even though the sudden intrusion catches you off guard enough you almost bite her finger instead. You almost consider doing it anyway, but she's so rarely in a good mood it feels rude to spoil it.

"Pets don't speak until they're told," She chides, pressing down on your tongue slightly and laughing at the way you almost choke in surprise. "And I don't remember giving you permission."

You can only manage a garbled whine in response, your face burning in embarrassment– but it's quickly silenced by the click of her tongue and the creak of the old chair you know sits by the fireplace, her thumb sliding out between your lips to drag you closer. Close enough to feel the rush of heat across your skin as your cheek is pressed against her thigh, her hands resting on the back of your head. You can't see it, but you sure can imagine the smug smile that must be tugging at her lips right about now.

"Let's see about fixing your little disobedient streak, darling." She murmurs, digging her nails into your scalp and tugging you even closer, the furs beneath you doing little to prevent the ache in your knees from kneeling. But you don't complain– you know what she wants, and you want it too. "Open."

Like the dog she seems so fond of treating you as, you listen– you're not as surprised this time when her fingers fill your mouth, forcing it open even further until you can feel the saliva collecting and dribbling down your chin. She doesn't seem to mind, even laughing at how pitiful you probably look, drooling all over her fingers.

But Signora is a hard woman to satisfy, and this will hardly do anything other then work her up enough to really break you in. You can just barely hear the rustle of fabric over your heartbeat, gloved hands tugging you closer and forcing you to press right up against the edge of the chair. It's almost uncomfortable, the way the chair presses against your chest, but she always has you teetering on that fine edge.

"Perhaps you can be trained after all." Signora's voice is like a balm, the heat of her body driving away the cold and urging you impossibly closer, until you feel her hand guide you down just as her fingers slip out of your mouth again– right up until you feel her cock against your cheek. "Show me that you can be obedient, mutt, and maybe I'll let you sit on my lap."

You know she's just dangling a treat just out of reach, but you can't help but reach for it anyway.

Your tongue drags across the underside of her cock, so slow you can hear the hiss that rattles in her chest halfway between pleasure and impatience. You take your time anyway, lingering until you reach the tip and press a kiss against it. You almost wish you could see her face, but she's never been fond of expressing anything outwardly when you can see it– just the idea of her brows furrowed, of her face flush and her lip caught between her teeth..it's enough.

It's not hard to imagine it anyway when the heat grows hotter, nearly turning the room into an oven before she catches herself. You aren't stupid enough to mention it, but your smile must be enough, because a low growl makes you shiver– so you drag your tongue from the base to the tip again, revel in the way it throbs beneath your tongue. For a moment you almost have something like control, your saliva dripping down her aching cock as you lap at it like a mutt.

But you're both growing impatient– the sharp click of her nails against the chairs arms makes you shudder, urging you to lift yourself up just enough to wrap your lips around the head with a muffled groan. You consider dragging it out just a moment longer, just to see if you can get her to whine, but she knows you better then you do– before you can even blink, her hand shoves you down. You, predictably, gag. Your throat burns from the stretch, but it's not unpleasant, eased by the pleasured hiss that tumbles from her lips. Signora at least has the mercy to let you get used to it for a moment before she drags you back up, the emptiness in your throat making you whine before she's shoving her cock back down your throat. Your eyes sting with unshed tears, your own sounds of pleasure muffled and garbled as she does it again– and again.

"Finally quiet, mutt?" She laughs, but it's strained– her voice quivers slightly as she fucks your throat like your nothing but a toy to her, drool dribbling down your chin and tears staining the blindfold. "If I knew it was this easy to shut you up, I'd have done it a long time ago."

You so badly want to do something, but with your hands tied behind your back and her fucking your face so rough, so fast, you can barely even think..there's not much you can do but let her, your cunt clenching around nothing. You really hope she wasn't lying about that reward, for once. You're practically dripping on her floor while she uses you, just barely able to squeeze your thighs together for a fraction of friction.

It only serves to make you more desperate, though.

"Fuck– or maybe you're too stupid to know better. You'd just let any pretty woman with a cock use you," Her breathing was getting heavier, more strained, but her grip on your hair didn't relent. Neither did the harsh thrust of her hips, her cock constantly hammering into your throat until you felt dizzy. "You're lucky I'm even willing to train a mutt like you."

Your mind starts to feel fuzzy, the words blending together until she digs her nails into your scalp and forces you down again– and keeps you there. You nearly gag again when you feel her shudder, her cock throbbing in your mouth as her cum spills down your throat, your hands straining against the silk binding them together. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, nostrils flaring and your body tensing– you don't even realize you'd briefly lost consciousness until your find yourself on her lap, rather then on your knees, her hands brushing the strands of hair stuck to your face with sweat out of your eyes.

It's the most gentle she's been all night– and likely as gently as she will be tonight. You lean into her touch anyway, groaning softly and shuddering at the taste of her on your tongue mixed with her cock throbbing against your thigh.

"I'm not done yet, darling. Did you think I'd let you get away with a little light training?" She laughs, cupping your jaw and pressing a kiss that's far too gentle to your cheek, the warmth of her body almost suffocating– but you welcome it, like you always do.

So you nod, smiling drowsily and spreading your legs like a good pet should.

Saw a post making fun of Asexuals in the year of our Good Vibes 2022 so a reminder:

The A stands for the Asexual community and spectrum (it also represents the Aromantic and Agender communities but I’m Asexual so I’ll be talking about that specifically in this post)

Celibacy is a choice to abstain from sex. Asexuality is a sexuality defined by a lack of sexual attraction to anyone, not by the choice to abstain from sex.

Every asexual person has different feelings on sex (an activity, not an attraction) - some are sex repulsed, some are sex neutral, and some are sex favorable. A physically pleasurable experience is not equal to an attraction to parties involved.

The Asexual community has been around since the dawn of the Queer liberation movement, and Asexual individuals have always existed.

Aphobia is real and has done tangible harm to Asexual people. Listen to and learn from their experiences.

If you make fun of Asexuals and their community jokes (dragons/cakes/cards) you are Aphobic. If you’re Asexual and you make fun of these aspects of your own community or consider them ‘cringe’ you have internalized Aphobia.

Sometimes teenagers and young people will identify as Asexual and change their label later in life. This does not mean that all young people who identify as Asexual will change their minds, nor does it mean that all people who identify as Asexual are young.

Seriously what do you people have against the dragons and cake jokes those are classic and hilarious please deconstruct why you have so much rage for harmless jokes that’s not a healthy response to silliness.

Anyways reblog this post if you’re Asexual, support Asexuals, or really want a dragon.

i put a ton of tags on a thing and realized maybe i should just make a post because i wanna know what other ppl think…

thinking about how if izzy had continued/forced his confession onto ed would've gone bc with eds mental state probably backing off on it and being more vague was a good choice. when izzy confesses ed is at his lowest and fully unable to accept that someone loves him and that he can love someone else and ed might have used violence to reenforce these beliefs.

ed dismissing it was probably the best outcome for izzy at that point because if ed was convinced that it was true (although i suspect he did believe that bc he shot izzy to kill the love) i'm not sure what he would have done to end that love.

i’m also thinking about the scene where ed is sobbing and playing with the wedding toppers after having shot izzy. i'm not sure when ed realized that izzy wasn't dead but if he had before that time an aspect of that breakdown could have been him grieving izzys love for him because he did think izzy stopped after the gunshot. which is why he went to izzy to be killed he thought “well, izzys done it for me before and there's no way he still loves me so he will be willing to kill me”

So… what happens when a certain fandom claws into your brain like a parasite and it won’t leave you alone and you come up with a crazy potential AU based on said fandom?

Ya make it of course-

Behold! An AU that’s never been done before! (maybe,idunnolol)

The Royal Swan AU!

…so basically, it’s a RadioApple brainrot story/AU of my creation…

*cough*aswanprincessspinoff*cough*

Yay, or nay? ( ◕ ᗜ ◕ )💦

spoilers for dungeon meshi chapters 37-38

something about these two pages is so...... the way kabru is trying to brutally kill falin while simultaneously restricting her movement in such an elegant(?) way.... the delicate precision in the way he stabs her... the raw emotion on their faces: the determination, shock, fear.... i think i hauve covid

sorry i just had the realisation that we could have a flipped hospital scene a la 4x14 where eddie is the one taking buck home instead of the other way around and the sheer thought of that makes me want to lie down

i’ve got headaches and bad luck, but they couldn’t touch you, no

rayvio sketchdump. i will drag you all down with me 💜🖤

Rear View Mirror

> Book 3 Spoilers <

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Relationships: F!Bobby / M!Detective; Ava / M!Detective

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I guess? If the Comfort is a bad idea?

Word Count: 531

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When the Detective has his heart broken, he finds a distraction in a certain journalist.

Author’s Note: This takes place after Book 3 on the Ava and Bobby routes, so beware spoilers.

I love the idea of Bobby becoming a confidant — and something more — for the Detective even though it’s a terrible idea. This is how I imagine it starts.

Read on AO3

If you asked Detective Lucas Langford why he was making daily drives to the Facility to visit a certain journalist, he would answer earnestly.

Not too long ago he had been in her position: stuck in bed, reeling from the revelations of the supernatural and trying not to implode. Yes, he and Bobby hadn't been on the best of terms. But this he had experience in. He could help.

And this was all true.

But it wasn't entirely honest.

No, the real reason sat heavily on his heart. It was in the rear view mirror as he drove down the forested path away from the warehouse. It was the confusing mix of relief and disappointment when he would round the corner and a certain commanding agent wasn't there. It was Farah's gentle hand on his shoulder one night as he sobbed in his bedroom.

It was the emerald green eyes that he saw every time he closed his own.

It was the kiss that he constantly relived in his mind.

It was the supernova in his chest that exploded into a black hole when Ava finally said what he yearned to hear and how it could not be.

And that's how Lucas found himself in Facility every day, sitting beside Bobby Marks as she recovered.

First, it was just a distraction, a sorely needed escape. He didn't relish playing both counselor and orientation guide for his ex-girlfriend. But it was a good enough excuse and less pathetic than moping at the station. He could return to the warehouse hours later, confident that he wouldn't run into Ava.

Over the next days, their talks shifted. They had graduated from "Do vampires drink blood?" to Lucas's own work. And it was like the script had flipped: Bobby listened, patiently and without a hint of smugness, as Lucas recounted what an utter rollercoaster the past months had been. Despite spending hours with Unit Bravo and seeing a new side of Rebecca, he confessed one day, the role of Liaison had been incredibly lonely. It was then that Lucas felt a warm hand on his. He looked at Bobby, confused first at the motion and then at her intense gaze, as she said, "You don't have to feel alone anymore."

And for the first time in all the years they had known each other, he felt that he could truly see her.

Soon, his visits to the Facility weren't just escapes. During each drive, he reviewed their conversations from the day before, thought up new topics for them to talk about. Memories from their time together in college began to resurface -– not in the familiarly bitter way but fondly instead. Sometimes, alone in the car or in his room, he thought of her and simply smiled.

Finally, Bobby was released. Lucas drove her home, of course. The drive to Wayhaven, boring at best, felt like it took no time at all as conversation flowed easily between them, punctuated with laughter and the occasional teasing.

He pulled up to her apartment building and watched her walk away -– until she turned back and leaned towards him through the rolled down window.

"Would you want to come inside?"

It’s official... I simp for a fictional jock now

I usually am not into jocks but... When the jock is SNOWY and ICY.... And reminds me of one of my alltime fave ocs... I have NO CHOICE but to S I M P

just look at him... I can’t.... this man is such a pretty boy... HE’S PRETTY, BUT HE’S ALSO COOL HE’S NOT A CRINGEY PRETTY BOY LIKE JUSTIN BIEBER, HE’S AN ACTUAL PRETTY BOY WHO’S COOL AND AWESOME JFBJKJDDKVBJDVFDKBDK Then again, I have a heavy bias to Wintery stuff and whatnot lol. But he’s so cool and mysterious.... and ofc I can’t help but feel bad for the guy. Boi just wants to snowboard, but apparently had to retire bc he got injured or something jxkbfkjvbjfks SPEAKING OF WHICH SNOWBOARDERS ARE HIGHLY ATHLETIC.... THIS MAN IS AN ATHLETE, ESP W THE FACT HE WAS A PRO SNOWBOARDER.... I wonder if he has muscles underneath all of that clothing...? Or might look pretty and toned? Probably pretty and toned, since he is a rather feminine young man. I already have a bunch of pics of him on my laptop.... he’s my computer bg.... gahhhh he’s so cool.... ;w; He’s prettier than me, cooler than me.... Why am I simping for a fictional SPORTS DUDE?! I’M SUPPOSED TO BE THE “EWWWWW SPORTS!” KINDA PERSON! But.... maybe I can make a smol exception for Grusha... since he’s so cool ;w; I ship him so hard w my icy oc girl Cryo lolol... (it realistically would only happen as a crackship bc Cryo hates romance and.... idk if they’d vibe enough canonically to be romantic? jkvbkvbjvbd maybe they could def hit it off as friends...) tho I wouldn’t be insulted one bit if Grusha ever thought I was pretty enough to date... makeout with... or do anything sweet/romantic with.... But I could never get that lucky... he’s too cool and pretty for me... ;w; ....And too sporty lol ...doubt an ex pro snowboarder would look at me and be like “HOLY MAMA LUIGI YES, THAT’S A CUTE CHICK 1000/10 WOULD MARRY HER AND MAKE HER BEAR MY CHILDREN!!!” Idk man... been lowkey boycrazy lately... and this cute, icy snowboarder dude is right up my alley! Now if you will excuse me... *continues to writhe in Grusha brainrot*

What a pretty mans... ;w;

care to tell us more about pigeons >:) ?

omfg i thought you'd never ask >:)

for thousands and thousands of years, pigeons have been at humanity's side as messengers, beloved pets, and holy symbols. going back to the messenger thing, pigeons had been used extensively during the World Wars to communicate between different battle fronts. i highly recommend reading up on the story of Cher Ami, the most decorated homing pigeon in U.S. history who saved a battalion of almost 200 men during WWI.

BUT ANYWAYS, for the longest time pigeons were beloved companions to people in one way or another. but technological advancements and societal/cultural shifts meant shunting away the old, leading to the release/escape of so many pigeons. many had their lofts torn down, leaving them to fend for themselves when they had relied on humans for so long.

ofc, nature always finds a way and they were able to survive without humans directly helping them, but bc of their history, close proximity to civilization was inevitable. pigeons became 'nuisances' for just trying to survive in major metropolitan areas.

we literally BRED THEM TO BE COMFORTABLE WITH HUMANS. and now we despise them, abandoned them in every sense of the word--cast them off as nothing but dirty pests that should be culled.

disease transmission is def a concern, but it's quite rare for individuals to contract them--the only people who are at risk are those who have a compromised immune system.

and yes they do poop everywhere, i can see how that would be annoying, but they're birds. birds. you can't get mad at them for carrying out natural biological processes.

SO IN CONCLUSION, these once beloved birds who have played significant roles in the cultures of long-forgotten empires and thriving modern civilizations, these intelligent birds who have served as humanity's communication system since FOREVER, these gorgeous birds bred for their beauty and grace and represent a universal symbol of peace, are considered ugly vermin--rats with wings--bc they dare live within our human spaces even though we've purposely bred them to. after we have grown tired of them. after we had no more use for them.

these once celebrated, cherished birds forced to make nests out of screws and nails.

You can run You can run You can run I don't mind I don't mind I don't mind TRUTH gonna come out, someday IT'S gonna wipe that s m i l e right off your face But you can run You can run

You can run

ind. pri. semi-sel. transformers oc multimuse as constructed by trauma please read rules before following

muses &&. rules || permanent starter call

every time i see an oz mutual mention the tin woodman in passing i'm like HRGK I KNOW THAT GUY and i have to hold myself back from tacking a thousand rambling tags on their post that only tangentially has to do with the tin woodman. literally seeing the words right now i am trying to not say the same things i have already said a million times but like THATS MY GUY HES ME HES MY FAVORITE THING EVER AUGH AUGH AUGH!!!

anyways. the masculine urge to hijack every oz post that says the words 'tin woodman' for my own ulterior motives (convince everyone to make nick chopper their favorite guy ever).

there is so little solo feng xin art i am going to cry Real Tears