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unorthodoxfaithxx · 3 months

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Yandere Ghost Smut

afab reader ; nsfw

“This house is totally perfect! You’ll love it,” is what your realtor told you when they finally found a house within your budget. You loved the aesthetics of historical homes, so when they discovered an older house that not only was in your price range, but had just minor damages, they called you immediately.

You moved in within the month. It didn’t take long to settle into your new home. There was a room with shelves meant for books, and you spent most of your free time there, enjoying the books from your collection that could rival a library. Sometimes, you would feel a sudden chill in the air when reading, and grow pensive. It would feel like someone was watching you. But besides that, nothing was out of the ordinary. You just assumed you were too stressed out and growing paranoid as a result. Everything was fine.

Well, it was. Until you started waking up with strange markings on your body. You woke up one day in a cold sweat, waltzing into the bathroom to wash your face off, only to find what looked like hickeys on your neck and upper chest area. Weird. Did you have bugs in the bed? Was it an allergic reaction to the new detergent you bought for the sheets? You had no idea.

You were never able to solve the issue because the markings disappeared within a few hours, and didn’t come back again. Once more, you shrugged it off and assumed nothing was amiss.

Yet eventually, things got even stranger. Your panties started disappearing one-by-one, and you were sure you hadn’t misplaced them. Specifically, your already worn undergarments would disappear from the dirty laundry bin before you could wash them. What the fuck?

“I don’t know, Mary,” you call your best friend one afternoon, “I feel like this place is haunted. And what’s even weirder is I keep getting these wet dreams…like every night. I’m not even sexually frustrated so I don’t know why I wake up wet or with markings on myself.”

“Maybe you got a ghost fucking ya?” She jokes around and you both get a laugh out of that. But for some reason, the deepest part of your being can’t dismiss that thought.

You begin to grow paranoid and start searching for any signs in your house that someone else is living with you. You decide to enter the dusty attic, and find rather antique furniture and a box containing a photo of a man and a woman. He was handsome, albeit a little creepy looking, but what struck you as odd was woman next to him. She looked eerily like you. You brought the photos downstairs to do some research on your computer, but alas, found no information on the man or the woman. The only thing you found out was that there was a fire that had damaged the property all too many years ago. You felt the creepy sensation of being watched again, and called it quits for the night, opting to get some much needed rest.

That night, you saw him.

————————————————————

It’s midnight when he appears in your room, watching your beautiful self slumber. You were so perfect, all those years ago when you left him, and even now. He loves the way the sheets drape your body, but slowly peels them off to reveal that you’re in nothing but a bra and panties. There is a slight sheen of sweat on your skin as your eyebrows furrow cutely in your sleep.

His angel must be having a nightmare, but he can take care of that. Gently, he trails his cold fingers over your curves. He admires your beauty, so happy to see you once more. He can’t wait another minute.

While you’re still on your side, he unclasps your bra, relishing the way your tits fall free without the support. They look so beautiful and perfect, he can’t even begin to describe how enchanted you make him feel.

You roll onto your back. He slides your underwear to the side, revealing your pretty cunt to his ghostly eyes. With a delicate touch, he rubs your clit in small circles, playing with you.

You gasp at the touch and he smirks. Your shuffling does little to deter him from his objective.

He’s on the bed with you, intently staring at your lower half. He admires your folds and moves them open and closed with his fingers, revealing a leaking hole that was your wetness. With a gulp, he slides your underwear off you, wadding it into a ball, burying his face into it as he takes a whiff of your scent. He’d be tasting the real thing soon enough. Once satisfied, he pockets your undies for safe keeping. He tilts his head down to your lower body, shifting into a more comfortable position. With a breath of anticipation, he slithers his cold tongue over your vagina, moaning slightly at the sensation.

He’s been doing this every night he could manifest, and it never got tiring.

This time, and he doesn’t know why, you wake up, staring down at the mysterious man in terror as he laps you up like a man thirsting in the desert. You mean to run but you can’t move. You feel something cold and wet tying your body to the bed. You try to close your legs from your violator, but his icu hands grip firmly on your thighs, keeping them wide open for him to shove his face between.

Under the moonlight, the two of you make eye contact but he doesn’t stop, instead opting to send you a wicked smile. “Good morning, love,” he says gently from beneath you. “I missed you so, so much. You know that?”

You’re in a state of shock, words screaming in your head but not quite reaching your vocal chords. The only sound you can make is a whimper as he shoves his tongue further into you, his nose rubbing you causing further pleasurable friction. He sucks, licks, and rolls your clit with his tongue.

Suddenly, he slides a cold finger into your hole and you gasp, arching your back only to be stuck back down again. “Don’t move, pretty thing,” he scolds you.

“F-fuck,” you finally manage to whisper, heart racing, “Who are you?”

“Someone who’s been watching you for a very, very long time.” He’s stopped licking you, instead moving to pump another finger into your pretty cunt, thrusting in and out at a moderate pace. His eyes show so much love, desperation, and lust in them that you have no idea what to do or where to go. Then it clicks. The man from the photo. That’s who he was. How could that be possible? Was he an actual ghost?

“I’ve been so lonely without you, princess. When you left me to burn, do you know how heartbroken I was? But now you’re back, and we can finally be together again. I’m not letting you leave me another time.”

He now has three fingers inside of you, picking up the pace. The lewd sound of slick fingers sliding in and out of your cunt drives him wild. His face is back between your thighs again, lapping you up and suckling on you until you’re visibly shaking.

“Aw, sweet girl. Gonna cum?”

You don’t want to, but you feel something hot and heavy coming.

“Shit. Cum in my mouth, sweetheart. Wanna taste everything you got.” He latches back onto you.

Your stomach drops and you let go, mind very distressed but body obviously in heaven. Your pussy spazzes out on him and he moans as he licks up the mess you leave behind. With a wipe of his mouth he grins, eying you like a rare prize he had just one at the fair.

He grabs onto you, embracing you in a hug you can’t run away from. Seriously, why can’t you move? He notices your struggles and laughs, snuggling into your chest.

“Ah ah ah, no running away, love. I’ve waited so long for you. You’re not going anywhere.”

He flips you to where you’re face down, ass up. Your vagina is dripping, juices sliding down your thigh. He licks his lips before biting his lower one, admiring the roundness of your ass and your now puffy and pink pussy.

“Oh, love. You got no idea what you do to me…”

You feel something cold and hard tap the entrance of your walls, and you freeze. Oh god, was he going to fuck you? His hands are on the sides of your ass, but you feel another set of cold hands grabbing your arms, and even another pulling at your tits. You whimper at the overstimulation.

“Enjoy the hands. They’re all me.”

Before you can reply, he’s sliding his dick through your entrance. Your pussy quivers at the sensation and he laughs. “Did you just come from that, love?”

Once you take all of him, he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I want to hear you moan, sweetheart. Go on, make some noise for me.”

As he’s taking you from behind, a hand shoves its fingers into your mouth, and you gag on it. The sets of hands on your breasts are now fondling them, pinching and squeezing. You’ve never felt so much at once before, and you eventually yield to the pleasure, moaning as he thrusts into you.

“That’s it, baby. Take it. Take it all. You’re fucking mine,” He snarls, and you whine at how hard he’s pounding into you, ferocity now evident in his demeanor.

You slurp and suck on the fingers, only for it to pop out of your mouth and slide into your ass instead. You cry out at the sensation. A hand is sliding circles around your clit as he fucks you, sending waves of pleasure over your body you’ve never known before.

“Too much!” You cry, sobbing with pleasure.

He gives you a kiss on the neck. “Almost done, love. Just keep taking it, okay? You’re doing so good for me. God, you’re fucking perfect.�� His thrusts became sporadic, and you know he’s close.

In the end, you come once more, and you feel he does too. When he pulls out, you collapse on the bed, blacking out. Morning eventually comes, and you feel someone is holding you from behind. A set of hands grope your body as you wake up.

“Morning, love. Ready for round two?”

#male yandere #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere male #soft yandere #yandere drabble #yandere smut #yandere x you #yandere x darling #smut

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vivianacht · 14 days

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making an important announcement about some things i’ve noticed in the gwendoline christie fandom that really bug me.

disclaimer: read this at your own convenience and discretion. i am not responsible for any sort of hurt feelings and frankly… i don’t care. if you’re mad about this, you are probably the problem. /lh

to start with id like to begin on a positive note so that i’m not diving into negativity, i don’t want to be completely negative about my experiences because i’ve actually met some of the kindest people in the world through this fan base.

the gwen fandom, the gwandom, the gwendoline christie fandom , the lesbian cesspool, has been an incredible experience that i’m grateful i’ve had the pleasure of being apart of.

i went through a rough patch during november, and if i hadn’t found out about gwen, or met such wonderful people during my time here , i honestly wouldn’t be here right now. i owe my life to these people, gwen included. i will forever adore miss christie and what she stands for alongside the friends i’ve made along the way.

and while i know someday this hyperfix will end, it’s really disheartening to me when a fandom is what makes me grow distant from things i enjoy. it happened before, i feel as though it is happening all over again.

and no, i’m not taking issue with anything like the catrissa stuff or the brienne and larissa ship going around or anything like that. i like that we can all be weird together and enjoy aus like catrissa and crackships like bririssa (not sure the official name that was decided lol). my issue is the amount of content i’ve seen that either focuses on gwen herself, or the strange relationship with minors, or the odd artwork of gwen, and the absolute disgusting behaviour towards giles.

gwen would be absolutely appalled seeing fanfictions of herself that involve nsfw or just her in general, anyone would, it’s disgusting to make works of real people in that setting. it’s like you’re treating them as an original character you can mould and manipulate as you see fit and using someone who is real with thought and feeling and consciousness for smut fics is not okay, or any fic in general. i totally get the hype around her characters, i literally have “brienne’s princess” in my bio and i’ve had “jane murdstone’s bloodbag” (in reference to my vamp au) as a name in a discord server.

but i think the fandom has begun to blur the lines between fictional characters and reality settings when it comes to gwen and the personalities she portrays on the television screen. it’s not fair to her. it’s disgusting. i’ve seen a minor do it, i’ve seen a grown adult do it. it’s something i don’t see shamed and frowned upon often enough and it’s really not okay.

on that note i’d like to quickly mention the photos, we alllll know what photos i’m talking about. the bunny one, the nudes, the ones gwen has expressed regret towards and wishes to not have them spread. was there not a “fan” who brought her a book of her nudes and wanted her to sign it? that person who was blocked on instagram by gwen because they reposted her nudes on their story and tagged her???? how can you refer to yourself as a fan after behaving so abhorrently? absolutely disgusting behaviour. as a collective fandom we need to stop touching those photos (metaphorically speaking) and leave them in the past.

i’ve been told of numerous circumstances in which adults have shown their nsfw works to minors in this fandom and it has to fucking stop. it’s disgusting!! how can you do that knowingly? i constantly ponder terminating my account after a minor got ahold of my nsfw work, and upon realising they WERE a minor it was as simple as blocking and moving on. it’s truly not that hard, folks. and the minors on tiktok who fight with others saying silly things like “that’s my wife” or worse. i’ve seen it all, i feel like, and the more i see it the more sick i become. i cannot stand it.

i have seen and heard of fans who have fat shamed gwen for that one pink dress she wore to the met gala. she looked so happy in that dress, and the audacity one must have to fatshame that poor woman on twitter then turn around and continue to proclaim your ‘love for her’ as if you’d done no wrong? are you fucking serious? are you mental?

and the sexualisation over the porcelain doll look, gods some of you are sick. those were not real breasts, people. considering the fact she wholeheartedly regrets her nude photoshoots , what possesses you to believe she would actually flaunt her chest in that outfit?

the blatant mistreatment of poor giles is not fucking okay either. just because you’re jealous of someone who makes her immensely happy does not give you the right to post something so vile and cruel about him. shame on you. why do you believe this is okay to post:

????????

are you serious? have any of you stopped to consider how HAPPY giles makes her? or is her happiness the last thing you ponder when you look at her? have you even noticed how unhappy she looks lately? have you truly paused to consider how she would feel about seeing this on your page, random twitter user, or the rest of you who think this is okay? bless your hearts.

and some of the absolutely horrific things i’ve seen about her online and the hurtful behaviour towards giles makes me question the difference between a fan and just the general paparazzi. because if you truly loved her and you truly loved giles then i would not be ranting into the fucking void about it for no reason.

i avoid interacting with pages i find problematic on here to keep from stirring the pot but tonight i chose violence and got reeeeeal pissy about how i felt about this place. it’s not okay what i see on here and it’s getting exhausting seeing the same cycle of content on a daily.

that’s everything i have to say, i think. i probably missed a lot that should be discussed in the comments but i’m done for now because i know if i go on i’ll probably cry.

before you post things about real people with real feelings , stop to consider how they will feel those real feelings towards the content you put out. chances are you’ll become less problematic and obnoxious that way. 💘

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sleeplesssmoll · 5 months

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Vertin's personality and traits based on in-game context.

Contains Spoilers.

Will update when I find more tidbits about our beloved Timekeeper.

Updated: March 15 2024

Vertin sucks at math.

Not much to say here. Although, this is another difference between her and Sonetto, who loves math. I hope they do something with this later because it'd be fun.

Vertin is 16 confirmed

While this isn't a personality trait, I did see some debate about her age since it wasn't officials stated until now and it was assumed through context. Prisoner in the Cave explicitly confirms her age. Vertin became Timekeeper when she was 12 and has been the the TK for the past 4 years.

Vertin is a pianist and a painter.

You can see a piano in the back of her office in the Suitcase by the window. It makes sense in regards to Vertin's musically inclined Arcanum. There's an easel and stool in her office too. She doesn't merely collect art, she creates it. Vertin also owns a camera (official artwork released) too and mentions her photography in the begining, so this isn't new but I thought I should add it.

Vertin's still playful under all her composure.

We know baby Vertin was a little menace, but we can still see a spark of that mischief in her later years. For example, Vertin slapping a fake mustache on Regulus to avoid Sonetto really captures this. We can tell from other characters' voice lines that Vertin will most likely play along with their shenanigans. She'll chirp like a bird in response to Rabies talking about his bird friends (Wilderness interaction). She'll help Sonetto during hide and seek (Wilderness). She watches movies with Eternity and An An Lee. X asks her for help with his projects. Going through her crew's voice lines really paints a better picture of how she interacts with others. The voice lines point to someone playful and curious when she's not in work mode.

Vertin was a gremlin.

Vertin's love language is giving.

We know baby Vertin loved to give gifts to a reluctant Sonetto, but that part of her still exists. She tried to grant everyone's last wishes during the 1929 Storm. We also know she gives Lilya alcohol as a gift upon her return from 1929. She is also very direct. We see her ask people what they want or what can she do for them throughout the story. To expand further, you could say she likes fulfilling people's desires instead of limiting it to material gifts. We can see more of instances of this during the Green Lake event, especially in the way she protects Jessica from the Foundation. She also tried to get Regulus funding for a ship. I love the Suitcase Dad meme, but it's rooted in nuggets of truth.

She was a crappy student, yet she was also a resourceful gremiln. Vertin never liked the institution! Honor student? Top of the class? Never. Teachers are filled with that "Godamnit Vertin" energy toward her too. I hope we see more gremlin energy in the future.

One-sided childhood friends.

Vertin is a collector.

Sonetto and Vertin were desk mates but Sonetto couldn't stand Vertin when they were kids. She even tried to avoid Vertin at times but Vertin persisted with her gifts. We can see this in the hallway scene. Sonetto's about to change routes to avoid Vertin but Vertin called out to her to give her a frog she caught. Kinda funny how Sonetto can't stand Vertin but also can't resist her when they were kids. Vertin and Matilda were actually closer back then. Well, at least until the tear gas incident. Sonetto changed after Vertin was hurt and the rascal wasn't around to bother her. I feel like this tidbit says a lot about Vertin and her influence on people.

Baby Vertin collected rocks, bugs, and frogs. Adult Vertin collects painting and mementos of people she's lost. Things were simpler as a kid.

Vertin is stronger than she looks.

She was a wild child and she's still got it years later. Vertin can run for long periods of time, endure injuries, and climb obstacles. That, and she's still essentially a child solider. We see her hold her own when she needs to fight solo doing stuff like dodging bullets. Sonetto and Matilda also exhibit these freakishly athletic traits, especially Sonetto.

Vertin befriends people in every Era, despite knowing she'll lose them.

Compared to the other children raised by the Foundation, Vertin's traveled the world and witnessed loss in every Era. This opens doors to a whole new set of questions. How did she change over time? How do the Arcanists she recruited before the story treat her? Did she have crushes in previous Eras? Were the oranges just as bitter? Vertin seems to get close to people very easily and doesn't build walls around herself despite the trauma. You'd think someone who's lost so much would stop trying to get close to people, but she doesn't.

Vertin is optimistic.

Even as a child, she was full of hope. It's why she fights for the future and is a core part of her personality. She needs to fight for all those she lost and stop the Storm from taking more lives.

Vertin gets quiet when embarrassed/shy.

She'll blush and fall silent, but she doesn't stammer or go all tsundere. We can see this in voice lines. Sonetto's high praises make her cover her face with her hands. Eternity gets a reaction out of her when she holds her hand. She also blushed when she received surprise smooch and fell silent.

Vertin has a unique scar on her back.

Vertin is a tactile person.

Arcana mentions the scar after Vertin was shot multiple times in the back by Schneider. It's a big scar and new theories about the scar are ongoing and interesting!

In several voice line interactions, Vertin is patting people's heads or holding their hands. Not all her crew mates are on board with it, some seem confused, and others play along. We can also see examples in story like her handing Sonetto a frog while gently grasping her hand or her taking Regulus's hand to lead her into the Suitcase. Here is a post with the evidence to back this claim.

Vertin sucks at arcanum but her deep understanding of arcanum is uncanny.

The story mentions her weak arcanum skills throughout the story. They really want you to remember this. Also, her arcanum didn't manifest until sometime after the break away event but before the events in the prologue. During her stay in the guardhouse, she doubts if she's even an arcanist and mentions her arcanum has yet to manifest, which is wild. Smoltin is fighting with her tiny hands and wit in this chapter. However, in the prologue it's mentioned Vertin's understanding of arcanum and her perception makes her unique amongst arcanists. She's also considered more "rationale" than other arcanists. You can read more about this here.

Vertin is stealthy.

Smoltin sneaks around to play outside. She steals food for herself and the Ring from the Staff Canteen, which has better quality food than what the kids get. This tells me she's done this before. Adult Vertin also sneaks around the Walden to find Schneider. She makes maps, tracks guard routes, and avoids detection since whe was a kid.

Tooth Fairy was one of the few Foundation members who cared about Vertin.

Tooth Fairy is the one who gave Smoltin the toffees (chit chat voicelines). She also covered for Vertin on a few occasions to protect her from punishment. She remembers Vertin faking her illness to skip class, but her bruises and wounds were real. The Foundation does have a few kind hearts that genuinely care about the children. The causes of Vertin's injuries is up to speculation.

#reverse 1999 #vertin #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 spoiler #spoilers #timekeeper #long post

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munson-blurbs · 5 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 3 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, morning sickness/vomiting, food aversions, fatigue, some angst sprinkled in for ~flavor~

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

March 1999

Oatmeal: a delicious, nutritious breakfast food that has been a staple in your diet since you were a child. It hasn’t done anything wrong.

Until now.

The scents of brown sugar and cinnamon always perk you up in the morning; at least, as much as anything can without containing copious amounts of caffeine. Today; however, they waft past your nose and have you hurtling towards the bathroom.

Eddie runs in from the bedroom, his jeans button still unfastened where he’d abandoned getting dressed for work. “S’okay,” he murmurs, rubbing your back as you empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Your cheeks blaze with the rush of blood to your face and the shame from being in such a vulnerable position.

You spit the last of it into the bowl and grab a handful of toilet paper to wipe your lips, taking a moment to collect yourself before slowly standing up. Eddie places a warm washcloth in your palm; you hadn’t even heard the faucet running over the pounding in your ears.

“Thanks,” you mumble, pressing the damp cloth to your forehead and taking a deep, shaky breath. This isn’t your first bout of morning sickness–that happened about a week after you received your positive test result–and it likely won’t be the last. Still, you’re surprised at how quickly your husband has adapted to this relatively new routine.

He kisses your scalp, nimble fingers fixing his pants button and buckling his belt. “Are you sure you wanna go to work today?” he asks, concern pinching his brows as he takes in your exhausted form.

You nod slowly, determined to stop the room from spinning. “I already took off twice last week.”

“So?”

“So,” you explain with a sigh, “I don’t want to use up all of my sick days in the first trimester. Not when I’ll have more doctor appointments as I get farther along.” Not to mention the fact that people have started questioning your absences, and you’re not ready to tell anyone the reason just yet. “Besides, I woke up feeling okay; I didn’t throw up until I smelled the oatmeal.” Your insides lurch at the mere mention of the food, and you find yourself hovering over the bowl once more.

Eddie hums knowingly as he runs the washcloth under the water again and wrings it out with a twist of his hands. “Uh-huh. And what if one of your students happens to talk about oat–”

“Don’t say it!” you cut him off as forcefully as you can, fighting your buckling knees as you steady yourself.

He relents, exasperatedly pivoting back to the bedroom to finish getting dressed. There’s little sense in arguing with you, especially with a nosy little boy eating breakfast in the kitchen not even twenty feet away. As far as Harris knew, you’d just been battling a stomach bug, and you and Eddie were both grateful that he hadn’t questioned it further. His response was telling you a…charming story about how his friend Charlie ate three bags of Hot Cheetos before promptly vomiting all over the cafeteria table; an anecdote that did nothing to quell your nausea.

You pull yourself together enough to make it to work. The queasiness subsides as the minutes tick on, though you take your lunch break in your car to avoid any smells in the faculty lounge that could inadvertently trigger another bout of sickness. You half-heartedly go through the motions of story time and arts and crafts, silently promising your students that you’ll have more enthusiasm once your second trimester begins.

By the time you arrive back home and trudge through the door, you may as well be dragging sandbags from your ankles. Exhaustion hits you without warning, your eyelids heavier with each passing second. You drop your keys on the side table and glance over at the clock hanging on the wall. The larger hand has barely ticked past the “6,” which means you have just under a half hour until you have to leave and pick up Harris from his after-school art program.

You don’t even make it to your bedroom, heaving your body onto the couch with a grunt; the stiff pillows have never been more comfortable. The last thought that crosses your fatigued mind is that you can’t sleep for long. If you lay down for a moment…set an alarm for fifteen minutes…

You’re awoken not of your own accord, but by the sound of the apartment door squeaking, the knob thwacking against the wall as though it’s being flung open.

“Thank God you’re okay.” It comes out in one breath, Eddie’s relief palpable as soon as he sees that you’re alive and breathing.

Still groggy with sleep, you push yourself onto your elbows, squinting at the influx of light from the hallway. Why wouldn’t you be okay? You were just taking a nap; it’s only been…an hour and a half?

“Shit, shit, shit!” You scramble to your feet, not even cognizant of the fact that you’re swearing in front of Harris. You take in his tear-stained face, comprehending his thought process before he can even say it aloud. “Har, I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t forget about you. I’ve just been really sleepy–”

“Har, can you go to your room for a sec?” Eddie keeps his voice even and controlled, but you can still sense the frustration simmering beneath. He puts his hands on his son’s shoulders and gives a tense squeeze, and Harris nods and somberly obeys.

Your misty eyes meet your husband’s gaze, his jaw steeled as you fumble to explain yourself. “Eddie, it was a total accident! I…I needed to rest…I didn’t think I’d sleep this long…”

He shakes his head, arms dejectedly hanging by his sides. “I asked you not to go to work,” he says softly, teeth digging into his lower lip. “It’s not because I think you’re weak or incapable or anything like that. You just need to take care of yourself.” His voice drops to an even quieter whisper as he walks closer to you, caressing your cheek. “You’re growing our baby, Sweetheart. That’s a pretty big deal.”

“I know,” you murmur, tears leaking from your eyes. “I’m not good at slowing down.” You can usually push yourself to your limits with minimal consequences, but it seems like those days are behind you.

Eddie tilts your chin so you’re looking directly at him. His expression isn’t as hard; a faint smirk of understanding graces his lips. “And I love how driven you are. But your mission for the next nine months—should you choose to accept it—is to incubate Baby Munson.”

“Incubate?” You wrinkle your nose as his phrasing.

“Incubate,” he affirms with a kiss to your nose. “Now, why don’t you go check on Harris, and I’ll start dinner.” His hand rests on the small of your back. “I was just gonna roast some chicken breasts, if that works for you?” It’s a quick and easy dinner that you have once a week.

But it looks like it might be off the menu for a bit; your eyes bulge and your palm flies to your mouth as soon as you imagine the varying textures of meat and skin.

“On second thought,” Eddie mutters, plucking a Surfer Boy pamphlet from the kitchen drawer, “maybe we’ll do pizza tonight.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui #smut

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koolades-world · 1 month

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One bed troupe w/ Levi

It was safe to day Levi almost never got out of the house. Between online school and all the the time he spent on the internet, he had no need to leave his room. Key word: almost. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he went out into the real world for events related to the things he enjoys, such as concerts, fan meetups, and most importantly, conventions.

Levi had been going to conventions longer than you even knew they existed, so it was safe to say he was an expert. But, now that you were around, and also interested in most of the same things as he was, he just had to take you along. That meaning, he nervously asked you on his knees the first time and after you agreed, he never asked again and just assumed you were going. Every convention with him is interesting, but always followed a formula.

You hear about the convention somehow, usually from Levi, where he's asking what cosplay you should go as this time. Sometimes you coordinate, sometimes you don't, but Levi loves to match. When he asks this, he's probably already book you your room. At first, he got you each your own room, but once after he accidently booked one room with two beds, you just started doing that instead. You leave a day before the convention begins with travel time factored in, spend however long there, then return home a day after the convention ends.

This formula is tried, true, and dear to Levi. It's something he can rely on to have the maximum amount of fun with his favorite person. This convention was supposed to be just like any other. The both of you were reusing an older cosplay, just because you had been busy that week. As you toted your bags into the hotel lobby, Levi almost directly in front of you, you asked him to pause. When he froze, and asked why, you carefully picked the Devildom equivalent of a ladybug. He was a little freaked out at first, but after studying the small bug you pulled out of his hair, he got a laugh out of it.

"They're good luck you know, especially if they land on you." You teased him, watching it fly off. Levi didn't respond, feeling a wave of anxiety crash over him. He wasn't sure why. He attributed it to having to deal with checking in, which he hated. But, he would never make you do that, since it was always him who insisted on bringing you along.

While he got you two checked in, you wandered off to the seating area to admire a sculpture. In your absence, something that only happens in his worst nightmares happened. Despite having made a reservation, the system wasn’t showing anything and they had no record at all. He briefly freaked out as he flickered through his camera roll, trying to find the receipt among his many photos of memes and characters fanart. Once he found it, he showed the worker. After seeing this, she did something on her computer and offered him a room upgrade. Before hearing the details, he accepted it. This was all too much for him.

Having acquired the room key, he collected you. The setting sun lit up the room, backlighting you and the sculpture. You simply stared up at it. He almost didn’t want to interrupt you. You noticed him somehow, and spun around to space him, making eye contact with a smile. His heart almost skipped a beat with the way you looked at him.

“Our room ready?” You pulled your suitcase behind you, noticing the keycard in his hand.

“Mmhm.” He didn’t trust himself to speak, and silently led you towards the elevators. He was told they had been given a room on floor 19, which was the second highest. Mc would probably die for that view. The thought of making them happy made him happy.

They two of got on the elevator. Mc made funny face at Levi through the mirrored elevator. After you walked the floor enough, following signage, you found your room. He unlocked it, and swung the door open to a beautiful suite. It came complete with a living room, and kitchenette, and a bathroom that rivaled Asmo’s. Mc dropped their bag by the door, and immediately begins to explore.

“Levi! You didn’t tell me you got a nicer room this time!” You threw your body down onto the sofa, admiring the tv. “This is great.” You peaked over the back of the sofa at him.

“Oh, I actually meant to tell you… There was a mixup of some kind so they upgraded us.” He scratched the back of his neck and closed the door behind him. His soul nearly left his body when he looked further into the room.

There was only one bed.

“Oh no, oh no no no.” He began to freak out for the second time that day.

“What’s the matter?” You got up immediately. You watched where his gaze was fixed. “Oh, Levi. I can sleep on the couch.” You looked at him empathetically, understanding his predicament.

“No! I mean, I can’t let my player two sleep on that sofa when that bed is right there. It’s much nicer than my bathtub. You deserve it. I’m just a loser otaku, but you’re the human who brought my family back together.” He took a small step back.

“Don’t he ridiculous. There’s room for both of us. If it helps, we can just sleep facing opposite ways. Besides, you know Mammon would kill to be in this room with me right now, sharing a bed with me. You could totally use this chance to brag, Levichan.” You giggled, skipping your way into the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Be out shortly.” You took your toiletries bag into giant bathroom. Levi pondered for an amount of time he wasn’t sure of, but was jolted out of thought by a knocking on the bathroom wall. Turns out, the shower had a window in it that faced the bed. You were doing a little dance in front of it with just a towel on, poking fun at him. After he covered his eyes and screamed at you to stop, you shut the window curtain so you could actually shower.

Once you were done, he had already unpacked all his things and took his own turn. The bathroom was very luxurious, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Mc and how he was going to be brave and share that bed with them. It was just to rub it in Mammon’s face, he told himself.

When he got out, you were spread out in the bed with a few snacks from your bag and his Devilswitch. “Up for a few rounds before bed, big guy?” He couldn’t say no to you. In his scramble to win every game you two played, and haze of the long day of traveling, he totally forgot about behind nervous. It only crept back in once you’d fallen asleep on his arm, remote still in hand. He froze, unsure what to do.

But, he knew he had to act because with the long day you two had tomorrow, he had to get to bed as well. As he moved to get up to clear the bed of everything on it, you grumbled and grabbed his arm. He began to internally scream, and almost externally too. He was sure he was very red. So, instead, he just moved everything onto his bedside table, and pulled the covers over both of you.

He was stiff under the covers at first, but the more you snuggled into him, the more relaxed he found himself getting. Maybe it was because he was getting more sleepy by the passing seconds, but he almost found himself enjoying the affection. He bid sleeping you goodnight.

Maybe this is what his good luck ladybug meant.

#mostly written on mobile cause I’m traveling so forgive any grammatical or spelling errors:)#obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me #obey me levi #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date

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changes · 8 months

Text

Friday, September 15th, 2023

🌟 New

We’re experimenting with adding the ability to interact with each item in the reblog trail on posts, by adding a meatball menu to each trail item. This is currently out to some of you on the web and in the Android app.

🛠 Fixed

Unfortunately, it is no longer possible to scroll the dashboard horizontally in certain circumstances on web, which was causing the dashboard to flee off-screen to the left or right when triggered.

Poll results no longer show “NaN” on the web in circumstances where the poll option itself was invalid.

Fixed an issue on web that was causing most of the page content to flash into existence when going from the dashboard to Explore. Now the individual pieces will load in more gracefully.

🚧 Ongoing

No, you’re not experiencing déjà vu. We’re currently fixing a bug that’s causing the Following feed to “loop” back to the beginning of where it started for some people. As a workaround, if you keep scrolling, you’ll eventually pick up where you were before.

🌱 Upcoming

Reminder that the Labs division is asking for volunteers to help test out a new feature idea: Collections!

Experiencing an issue? File a Support Request and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can!

Want to share your feedback about something? Check out our Work in Progress blog and start a discussion with the community.

Wanna support Tumblr directly with some money? Check out the new Supporter badge in TumblrMart!

#tumblr update

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lace-coffin · 4 months

Note

hello! Could you do something about Asa after he spends like, a good your looking for his newest member of the collection, and when he finds them, their just, surrounded by diff bugs?

Theres like, crickets in their hair, moths and butterfly all over their arms a few spiders crawling around their legs and their holding a praying mantis in their hands and staring at in awe. Their also babying talking it and cooing at it, when they look up and realize Asa is staring at them, they raise their cupped hands a show him the giant mantis resting their, saying with a cherry yet soft voice and smile "I named her Apple!"

I would appreciate it very much if you wrote something about this :)

But you don't have to, for any reason really.

Have a lovely night/day! Be sure to drink water and eat 💕

How would Asa Emory react to finding his new pet coddling his bugs?

Asa Emory/gn!Reader

Tw for bugs and power dynamics

Requests are open!

Asa moved through the halls of the hotel with efficiency, he knew them like the back of his hand, however that apparently wasn’t helping since he’d managed to...misplace his new pet.

You were supposed to be in your room, you were lucky you had even been granted the luxury of not just being crumpled into one of the boxes, but here Asa is, speeding down the halls and jumping/swerving around his traps like some kind of sick ballet in order to find you. You absolutely won’t be getting out of this without some serious punishment.

Asa curses at himself under his breath for making his place of operations so huge, it seemed like a good idea when he set up here and it was but damn if it wasn’t his Achilles heel in this situation.

Fifteen minutes of searching later his heart is picking up in an unfamiliar way, usually he’s not one to care about others or a stray victim but something in him can’t help but worry about loosing his newest subject already. Whether it’s because he cares for you or because he hates not being in control is anyone’s guess. (He’s soft for you and won’t admit it)

Finally as he’s cracking open a door at the end of the hallway he hears a sweet laugh echoing from further along. Bingo. You’re so dead when he finds you. As he’s about to slam the door open he realises this is infact where he keeps his enclosures for his specimens, he sighs and opts to open the door slowly and quietly as not to startle the bugs.

You don’t even notice Asa enter the room, currently too enthralled in cooing sweet words to the giant mantis in your hands.

Before Asa can demand to know where you’ve been and why, his breath hitches in his throat. There you are, sat on your knees next to the enclosure cases, covered from head to toe in his beloved bugs. The calm careful way you handle them and talk to them like they can understand tugs at his heart, his face softens at the sight, anger long forgotten and replaced by a feeling of fondness, the same one he felt when he was originally scouting you to join his collection.

The crickets cling to your stands of hair, a little messy since you had left your room before Asa got to around to brushing it but he’ll fix that later, sitting contently like they’d never been disturbed in the first place.

Moths and butterflies tap their tiny feet along your arms, fluttering their delicate wings, taking off and landing back with you when they please.

Asa takes in the scene breathlessly, if he hadn’t already been weak for you then he definitely is now. As he approaches by a few steps some thick hairy legs come into view, creeping slowly over your thighs and onto your lap. Tarantulas, two of them, using you as a lap cushion without a care in the world. You really are something special. In the back of his mind Asa makes another note to keep approaching slowly, despite you needing a punishment he’s not exactly wanting his eight legged pets to kick hairs at you in fright.

After a few minutes of blissfully observing one of the tarantulas unhurriedly totters off your leg and begins to move across the room. “Oh, where are you off to little guy? I need you over here with me, I’m already probably in big trouble with sir” you sigh. “I don’t want to loose you and make it worse, besides, I don’t think I could forgive myself if something happened to you under my watch”

In a strange way you suppose you understood Asa’s need to keep you under wraps right now, not wanting this beautiful specimen to disappear from your sight, much like Asa with you.

You swivel on your knees to coax the spider back into your palms, nudging its abdomen for encouragement and letting it waddle back into your hands. From your new position you catch a glimpse of heavy black boots in your peripheral. Oh.

You turn your attention fully to the man above you, heart racing at the idea of what’s about to come, however as you reach his eyes they aren’t filled with the rage or disappointment you were expecting. The black orbs are filled with softness, fondness, almost something sweet you can’t decipher.

Without thinking you present the giant mantis to Asa, still on your knees. “I named her apple!” A beat passes and an array of emotions flutter through Asa’s steely heart, his blank face still giving nothing away. After what feels like an eternity he crouches down in front of you, cupping his hands under your own, assisting in holding the mantis. “A fine name for her, pet. Do you know what species Apple is by chance?” He says in his firm but calm, leading voice, slipping into the tone he uses when teaching his lectures without even realising it.

“Uh-no, no I don’t sir…tell me?” You say, wincing a little at the stumble at the beginning, hoping asking him to tell you didn’t come off as rude or undermining his authority. Asa smiles, not letting anything on.

“She is a Giant Asian Mantis, or Hierodula membranacea, If you want to get technical. These are the most commonly kept mantis as house pets and come in an array of colours, but as you can see, apple is mostly light green. I think your name fits her nicely.” Asa explains matter of factly, hands still cupped under yours for Apple to totter onto.

“Woah” you say without thinking, watching Apple move to Asa’s palms and taking in the information. Asa exhales from his nose in a small chuckle. “Woah indeed, however I think it’s time we get you and Apple back to your respective rooms” Asa says with a quirked eyebrow, giving away that your not going to get away with this unpunished just because he finds you endearing.

Asa helps you round up the specimens and places them back in their individual tanks. After making sure you both wash your hands thoroughly he takes your now clean hand and walks you back to your room, letting you ask him more bug questions as you walk.

Despite how lovely this has been you’ll still be given a stern talking to once you return, Asa can’t bring himself to punish you for your little adventure and entomology lesson but isn’t one to let you off the hook without some kind of consequence, after all he expects your complete submission and obedience and won’t settle for any less. But for now that convocation can wait, and Asa can get you comfy on your knees infront of him, manoeuvring your head via the ring on your collar and finally working the comb through the snags in your hair with care.

I hope you enjoy this! Your rq was super fun to do and the idea was really cool! Thank you so much and feel free to send me more < 3

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collection #the collector #the collector x reader #writing #my writing

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primrosebow · 3 months

Text

An open letter to bigfatbimbo.🪽

Reasons why you should write for Adam.

1 -> He is a misogynist (not for long)

Look at his face. He is so weird. I swear. He has been favoritized for far too long, leaving him with the most mind-numbing god complex. Don't you want to stab him to death like niffty? Don't you want to put him where he deserves to be (either underground or under me)? I do. You should too! Because his way of thinking meets it's end where my heels begin.

2 -> He is stupid

He has the emotional maturity of a boiled lobster. He fits into heaven like an orca in the amazon river. He is so unbelievably incompetent it is actually kind of mind boggling. Don't you want to crush him like he's a little bug (either with your fists or your thighs)? Didn't he literally say one of the "biggest issues evet" was math or something? He probably couldn't tell you where Africa is in the world map even if you paid him. Even the fruit of knowledge couldn't give him enough braincells to function as a proper member of society.

3 -> he deserves humiliation

He deserves to have his entire worldview rocked and destroyed, something we can surely provide. His shallow thinking should be promptly obliterated. He has only ever gotten away from beautiful tall strong women because he always had the option of just asking for a different woman. They didn't have the mental fortitude to put him in his place. We are the bearers of the curse (liking repulsive men), and, since there is no "mental fortitude" to begin with, there is nothing for him to break down. We (as a collective) should end him.

4 -> I know what he is

His entire persona is a gigantic act to make up for the fact he cannot appropriatelly cope with losing in general, much less losing the, like, 2 wives he ever had (to THE SAME GUY!! MIND YOU!!!) and if he had more people they were one night stands. Not because he left them, but because people know he is worthless scum and he is good for nothing other than his "original dick" ( eugh. I usually refrain from cursing >:// ). It is the reason for his pride and also the only thing that makes him even remotely worth the hastle of talking to. He is the equivalent of a carnival prize to the people in heaven, scoring him is more of a show of your own endurance rather than how coveted he is. He has been objectified through his own hubris. He should be made aware of that. He should fear the knowledge we posses. It should be used against him.

5 -> he sounds.. like.. . He sounds good.

I watched the series while skipping most of the songs but I genuinelly could not do it when he was singing. No wonder he's in a band or something, I didn't actually pay attention to what he was saying I was paying more attention to the sound of his voice so I don't remember clearly what's up with that. Like he sounds REALLY good. If only he knew how to just use his voice without saying the most repulsive atrocities to be ever uttered by anyone ever. Oh yeah! We can make him incoherent enough for that to happen.

6 -> Lute deserves better

Lute deserves, like, a woman. Not him. She's too gorgeous for him, and, the difference between us and her is that while SHE is dealing with HIM, in our case, HE has to deal with US. Really, we're just saving a beautiful, amazing, stunning, showstopping woman a lot of trouble, and getting an ENTIRE PATHETIC MAN AS A TRADE! WIN WIN! Literally no downsides, I swear.

7 -> he is girl dinner

Don't you just love looking into your fridge and seeing the worthless scraps that built up overtime but somehow taste better now than they usually would have, which is particularly shocking considering it has 0 nutritional value? That would be what girl dinner is, and also an appropriate analogy for what Adam is like! Just roughly ok looking enough for you to not downright call it a biohazard. You will go to bed satisfied after fighting tooth and nail for your dinner (getting him to behave properly) and, it'll be easier the next times maybe! Operant conditioning is a heavy hitter with this repulsive individual, so it might actually get easier! Who knows!

8 -> Pretty please? (´｡･д人)ﾞ

I really. Uh . I really want him if you couldn't tell? Maybe the cannibalism and the fear I want to instill into him got in the way of you seeing my point, but, like, that's just how I love. The highest honor I could bestow on him is wanting to eat him, so, maybe that'll assist in your judgement? I also just really like your writing and would love to hear your thoughts on his idiotic self. AND! AND! Other people also want you to write about him if I well remember the 1 ask you received about him!

I await your response when you are available @bigfatbimbo

If you need more convincing; I can, like, draw him? I'm going to draw him no matter what but like I can cook something up for you in particular who knows.

You did say you were already considering writing for him, so, maybe this can be a final push in that direction for you!

- sincerely, Bow

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam x reader #he is the worst #I want him reaaalll bad #if anyone also sees this letter and is convinced by my arguments #I absolutely insist that you @ me in whatever you chose to make #I would be honored

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stevie-petey · 4 months

Text

episode nine: the beginning

“No, I understand.” Steve smiles and then points to the wall of comics behind you. “So, if we’re going to be friends, I gotta ask about your Spider-Man obsession.” “Oh, now that’s just too personal. This is like, day three of our friendship. At least ask what my favorite color is, first.” Steve laughs again and nods. “Alright, fair. What is your favorite color, then?” And this is the beginning of your friendship with Steve Harrington.

summary: BONUS EPISODE TIME ! steve becomes bookstrorindary's favorite loyal costumer, jonathan buys you a bug for christmas, you freak out your poor coworker alex, and suddenly steve is really hot and you're feeling so many feelings (bad ! it's all bad !).

rating: general, some swearing

warnings: swearing, angst ending (sorry gang), fem!reader and use of y/n

words: 6.5k

before you swing in: surprise ! bonus chapter that takes place between seasons 1 and 2. basically, as the title says, it's the beginning of everything between steve and reader. this is where everything starts to take shape, their beginning dynamic, and ultimately the horrible timing of it all. life is hard, steve is hot, and reader just wants to heal her physical and metaphorical wounds. enjoy !

November 15th, 1983

When Steve Harrington walks into Bookstrordinary your first day back, you think your lingering concussion from the monster is causing you to hallucinate.

You had been struggling to reshelf some books, your crutches being a burden and hard to balance with as you stack, when the bell above the front door alerted you of someone’s arrival.

“Welcome to Bookstrordinary, how can I help you–” You place the last back in the shelf and turn around, not expecting who you see. “Steve?”

He smiles at you and shoves his hands in his bomber jacket. “Hey, Y/N.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You can’t figure out my nickname if we don’t hang out, right? So,” He shrugs, as if this is just another Monday for him. “I’m here.”

You stare at him for a moment, unsure what exactly to do. While you hadn’t been lying when you told Steve that you guys could be friends, you hadn’t expected him to jump at the opportunity so quickly. His eyebrow is still healing from his fight with Jonathan in the alley and you’re stuck with crutches for the next two weeks.

Wounds are still healing. You figured Steve would take some time to collect himself, but it appears that he simply doesn’t care, or maybe it doesn’t matter to him.

“How did you know I even worked here?” You ask the boy, now making your way over to the front counter where he stands.

Steve chuckles. “You really can’t give me credit for anything, can you? I pay attention, Y/N. I can be observant.”

“It’s not like that,” you’re quick to correct, scared that Steve will think you see him as some mean jock. “I just… I’m not used to people paying attention to me, I guess.”

You pause and make a face, not liking the way that sounds. “That sounded incredibly gross and cheesy, huh?”

“No, I understand.” Steve smiles and then points to the wall of comics behind you. “So, if we’re going to be friends, I gotta ask about your Spider-Man obsession.”

“Oh, now that’s just too personal. This is like, day three of our friendship. At least ask what my favorite color is, first.”

Steve laughs again and nods. “Alright, fair. What is your favorite color, then?”

And this is the beginning of your friendship with Steve Harrington.

He spends almost two hours the first day at your job, asking you questions about yourself, your favorite food and color and animal, which genre of books you prefer, anything and everything he can think of to get to know you better, Steve asks it.

At first you’re unnerved by his onslaught of questions, but slowly you find yourself opening up to him and enjoying having Steve with you. He makes your last few hours of work bearable and fun. Before you know it, you begin asking him your own questions. You learn that he loves banana bread, secretly enjoys helping his mom around the house, and that blue is his favorite color.

When your coworker Alex walks in to take over the next shift and finds you leaning against the counter talking to Steve, he almost spits out the milkshake he had been drinking. “S–Steve Harrington?”

Steve tenses for a second and, before your very eyes, he morphs into his King Steve persona effortlessly. You’re not sure what exactly he changes about himself, but he becomes more closed off, guarded, with an air of authority that frightens you a little. “Hey, kid. Do I know you?”

Alex shakes his head, too stunned to speak.

“That’s my coworker, Alex.” You take pity on the poor kid. He’s only a year younger than you, but you suppose that a junior like Steve, someone well known and admired throughout the school, can be intimidating.

“Nice to meet ya, buddy. I’m assuming that Y/N here is off the clock now?”

“Y–yes.” Alex squeaks out.

The bell above the door rings again, this time announcing Jonathan’s arrival.

He walks in, distracted with some groceries in his arms, so when he finally looks up and sees you, Steve, and Alex all standing in a circle staring at him, he freezes. “Well, this is an interesting sight.”

Steve ducks his head, his King persona quickly fading away. “Hey, Jonathan.”

“Steve,” Jonathan responds cooly, looking between you and him as if trying to figure out a complex math equation.

Great.

You clear your throat and step away from Steve, heading to the back of the store to collect your things and clock out. “Just give me a minute or two to grab my things, then I’ll be all set to leave, Jonathan.”

He nods at you, still staring at Steve like he’s some foreign creature, and you quickly hobble away to avoid any interaction between them. You’re not sure why having the two of them in the same room as you feels so wrong, but your head still aches from its concussion and your ribs are so bruised that breathing still hurts, so you really don’t have the time to figure any of it out.

While you’re gone, Steve and Jonathan continue to stare each other down.

“Picking Y/N up?” Steve guesses, eyeing the keys in Jonathan’s hand and the groceries in the other.

“Yeah, kinda something I’ve always done.”

“Right.”

Jonathan readjusts his grip on one of the grocery bags, having nothing better to do as he waits for you. Alex busies himself with rearranging some books at the counter, clearly equally as uncomfortable as the two teens are.

Steve lets a whistle out and awkwardly stuffs his hands into his pockets. Jonathan watches him in curiosity. The scab on his eyebrow has almost healed over, but Jonathan still gets a kick of pride seeing it. He’d done that. He’d marred King Steve’s handsome face.

“Are you, like… Y/N’s friend now?” Asks Jonathan, the question heavy on his mind. He trusts your judgment of people, he knows you can read people better than anyone else, but having Steve around you makes him uneasy. The guy had been a grade A dick to you and him for years, especially his bullshit friends Carol and Tommy.

“We made a compromise,” Steve says, a hint of humor in his voice.

Jonathan frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well–”

“Okay, let’s go!” You walk back in, fearful of whatever conversation you’ve interrupted.

Jonathan watches as Steve immediately turns to you, as if drawn in by your mere presence, and he starts to wonder exactly what the boy’s intentions are with you. All you did was walk into the room, and yet Steve is hanging onto your every word.

He doesn't blame him, god he doesn't. It’s you. You could command a room with just your smile alone, but Jonathan isn’t used to sharing that with others.

Especially not with people like Steve.

“Will you be working tomorrow?” Steve asks you, a twinkle in his eye.

You nod at him. “Mhm, I work every day after school. On weekends I’m usually home doing homework or keeping that one in check.”

You point at Jonathan, who laughs. “Guilty.”

“Then I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow?” Steve doesn’t even look over at Jonathan, which he rolls his eyes at.

“See ya then.” You smile wide at Steve and for some reason Jonathan really wants to throw the bag of eggs he’s holding.

This was not what he had been expecting when he told you earlier he’d be picking you up after getting his mom some groceries.

And had someone told Jonathan that the rest of sophomore year would go on like this, he probably would’ve thrown the bag of eggs at Steve then.

–

True to his word, Steve comes by and visits you almost every day leading up to winter break. He becomes a regular, hanging around the counter talking to you about anything and everything. The first few days you had been a bit nervous that your boss, Mrs. Waters, would have a problem with him, but she quickly dispelled your concerns.

“Oh, that handsome young man? He can stay as long as he likes. I think he’s the reason we’ve been getting so many young customers recently.”

You look around and realize that, yeah, there is in fact a new group of freshmen girls who have started stopping by and browsing the romance section. You’ve noticed the way they stop and stare at Steve while he talks to you, whispering and giggling to themselves.

Steve pays them no mind, always too busy talking about basketball or his latest issue with Nancy.

That’s been the one downside to all of this, really.

You’re happy the two of you are friends, but between Jonathan’s moaning about the girl and now Steve’s worrying that he’ll never be good enough, you’re kinda sick of talking about Nancy Wheeler.

Which is a shame, you actually quite admire the girl.

“And today she looked at me in the hallway and I think she even smiled–”

“Steve,” you interrupt him, a headache forming. “Like I’ve told you a million times now, she needs some time. It’s only been a few weeks, I think she’s still recovering from what happened at Jonathan’s. She also lost Barb, you can’t forget that.”

You don’t tell Steve about the whole Jonathan and Nancy situation, partly because it isn’t your place, and partly because you’re not sure if it will do more harm than good.

The boy nods, looking crestfallen. “Yeah, you’re right. I just… I want to get this right, ya know?”

“I know, and you will. Just… let her come to you, but also show that you’re still there for her. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. Got it. Stay at a distance, but in a smooth way.”

You snort. “Not how I would’ve phrased that, but sure.”

You go back to counting the change in your register, beginning the early stages of closing up for the night. Jonathan will be here in about twenty minutes, you’ve come to learn that if you distract Steve when he’s here, then there’s fewer awkward interactions.

You’re hoping that once Nancy figures out which boy she wants that you can then all be friends, but until then you’re stuck with being an uncomfortable middleman who just wants to drive home with you best friend in peace after spending a lovely evening with your new and endearing friend.

Speaking of your new and endearing friend, Steve begins to tap his fingers against the countertop, fidgeting around. Amongst the many things you’ve learned about Steve these last few weeks, you’ve also learned that he absolutely hates silence and standing still.

“Okay,” you place your hand over his fingers, stopping his tapping. “I’m going to start closing, how about I give you a list of the books and comics I need to bring home with me? It’ll make closing go by faster.”

Steve perks up, happy to be given something to do. “Alright, I can do that. What are they for, though?”

“Most of the comics will be for the boys; it'll be their Christmas gifts. The rest, the books mostly, will be for myself. I like to add them to my bookshelf at home.”

“No way,” Steve’s eyes light up and he leans in close, a teasing smile on his face. “Am I about to get a look into Y/N Henderson’s mind?”

You shoo him off your counter, grabbing your crutches to start restocking books for tomorrow. Steve follows close behind, carefully watching your steps to make sure you don’t fall. “I wouldn’t be too happy, I doubt you’d be able to figure out which comics are for me and which are for the kids. As for the books… well, guess I’ll have to make you sign a contract stating our friendship is legally binding. Can’t embarrass myself.”

“I’d gladly sign it,” Steve says, without even hesitating.

You stumble a bit and he’s quick to steady you. Steve does that sometimes, says things that make you feel like you feel hazy and warm. Too warm. You’re not used to his candidness yet; Steve doesn’t hide how he’s feeling, he’s an open book.

You’re not sure if his open vulnerability is a good thing, but you’re slowly starting to find it nice. Pleasant, almost.

“Anyways,” you shake your head, trying to clear your mind and ignore whatever cologne Steve is wearing that makes your head spin. “The list is in my backpack by the counter. Grab it and start hunting, soldier.”

Steve salutes you and does as he’s told. In no time he’s wandering the bookstore, humming to himself as he skims the many shelves and aisles to find everything you need. You busy yourself with your own job, arranging a new shipment of books so that Alex has a calm opening shift the next morning.

The freshmen girls have long since left, leaving you and Steve alone. Mrs. Waters is somewhere in her office, probably seeing if there’s any way to hire Steve, and it’s nice being alone with him. The two of you work silently side by side, he diligently works on his task and you can’t help but sneak a few glances when he’s not looking.

Steve Harrington has always been attractive, you can’t deny that, but learning this gentler and nerdier side of him has only increased his attractiveness tenfold. Pair him with Nancy and it’s no wonder the two of them were such a hit at school. They make a beautiful pair, something you almost envy.

Just as you’ve finished stacking the last of the new shipment, the bell rings in the store. You look up, seeing Jonathan, and feel yourself smile. He looks more tired today, though you suppose it’s because he’s basically become the kids’ chauffeur now that he’s no longer working. He claims that he doesn’t mind, but you know he secretly wishes you were there to help.

“Rough day, bee?”

He nods, walking over to you and places his head against your shoulder, letting out a dramatic groan. “Dustin insisted I drive them to the quarry to reenact Will’s body being retrieved. It was morbid, and yet… Kinda funny.”

“I…” you’re speechless, in complete disbelief. “Those boys are horrible, I love their freakish little brains.”

“What’d they do now?” Steve appears, a giant stack of comics and books in his arms. “Hey, Jonathan.”

“Steve,”

You gently remove Jonathan from your shoulder and face Steve. “They reenacted Will’s dead body being found in the quarry. A typical Friday afternoon, really.”

Steve’s jaw drops, equally as speechless as you were, and you and Jonathan laugh at him. “They sound insane.”

“If we’re going to be friends, you really gotta get used to the boys.” You tell him with a shrug.

Jonathan walks over to the counter and grabs your backpack, then goes to Steve and holds it open, motioning for him to place all the comics and books in there. “She’s right, you know.”

Steve lets a chuckle out, a hint of nervousness mixed in with delight as he drops your stuff in the bag. “I know, she’s always right. That’s what scares me.”

You blush and leave the boys on their own to go inform Mrs. Waters that you’re closing up. You hear them start whispering to each other as you leave, and you make a mental note to badger Jonathan about it on the drive home. While you’re relieved they seem to be getting along tonight, you absolutely cannot have them forming an alliance against you. They’d lose, of course, but still.

–

Winter break comes and you spend the first half of it with your family and the Byers. Your mom has slowly started letting you out the house again. When you came home with a sprained ankle, crutches, and bruised ribs, she’d almost fainted. You were promptly placed under house arrest, only allowed out for work and school, but you didn’t mind.

It takes some pleading, you manage to convince her to allow you to bike to the Byers’ on Christmas to deliver your treats for them. When she agreed, you were giddy, finally having some time to yourself.

Though it’s snowing, you enjoy the beautiful serenity of it all. The layer of white, untouched and pristine, falling around the pine trees like a blanket tucking you in after a long day, makes you smile.

It’s always so lovely seeing Will and Joyce and you wish you could stay longer, but your mom had been firm when she told you to be back within the hour, so you deliver the cookies and bid your farewells before Jonathan drives you home.

After your conversation, making him promise that things will always remain the same between you two, the car ride is silent once more. You’re okay with this, finding that you’ve come to miss your comfortable silences with Jonathan. They’ve become few and far between ever since Will’s reappearance. You’ve both been busy attending to him and the boys, trying to make everything as normal as possible again.

When Jonathan pulls into your driveway, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over to kiss his cheek, but he stops you. “Hold on, I figured we’d do our gift exchange early this year.”

You gasp. “Did you plan this?”

For years now, you and Jonathan have given each other your gifts the day after Christmas so that it’s just the two of you, no one else, experiencing the moment. You love the tradition, it’s become your favorite part of Christmas.

“Maybe,” he laughs, wrapping around his seat to get to the back. He pulls out a small box that’s so poorly wrapped, you know he did it all by himself. “Here, open it.”

“But your gift is inside, I didn’t–”

“Shush and open the gift, damnit.”

“How sweet,” you tease, but eagerly begin tearing at the wrapping paper. Jonathan has always given you the most obscure and wonderful gifts, every year he somehow manages to surprise you. You tear off the last piece of wrapping paper and open the small box, gasping when you see what’s inside. “Jonathan… you didn’t.”

Inside the box is a beautiful silver necklace. The chain itself is simple, it’s the pendant attached to it that takes your breath away.

Dangling from the necklace is a bee, no bigger than a centimeter or so.

There’s small diamonds in its wings and the necklace itself is minimal, something you’d only notice if you were paying attention, and it’s the most precious gift you’ve ever been given. You touch it delicately, the metal cool against your fingertips.

Jonathan gives you a boyish smile. “Figured we could match.”

“What–” He raises his right hand and for the first time you notice a ring on his index finger. You gasp again and snatch his hand, bringing it closer to your face so you can get a better look. The ring has a thick silver band, and there, in its center, is a ladybug as small as your bee. The ladybug is all silver, its wings integrated through the ring’s band. “Jonathan…”

“Do you like it? I found the jewelry at a garage sale this summer. Came as a pair,” Jonathan wraps the hand you’re inspecting around your own. “Almost like fate knew I’d find it for us, ya know? Bug and bee, you and me.”

You have so many things you want to say, but the words are stuck in your throat and all you want to do is grab Jonathan and pull him in and never, ever let him go. “You’ve had the jewelry for months?”

“Hardest secret I’ve had to keep from you, honestly.”

You laugh and cry and kiss Jonathan’s cheek a million times. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Things are finally starting to feel alright again. Here the two of you are, parked in your driveway in Jonathan’s rundown car, off in your own little world for the first time in months. It’s just the two of you, no one else, with only the falling snow as your company.

You couldn’t be happier. You feel complete again, whole, with Jonathan’s pinky promise from earlier as your oath.

“I feel bad,” you say as Jonathan walks you to your door. “For Christmas all I got you were cassettes. Had I known you were being sentimental this year I would’ve given you a lock of my hair or something.”

Jonathan laughs, and the sound doesn’t hurt you as much as it used to.

–

Working the day after Christmas has always been your favorite shift. No one ever comes in, it’s always just been you, your books, and your comics for five blissful hours.

Somehow, you should’ve known that Steve would stop by anyways.

You’re admiring your new necklace in a mirror when he walks in, all bundled up due to the flurry of snow that’s encasing Hawkins.

“How do you always manage to know when I’ll be working?” You ask him in lieu of a greeting.

Steve unzips his coat and hangs it up. “A magician never reveals his secrets, Y/N.”

“Boring, I say they should.”

“Well,” he walks over with both hands behind his back, hiding something, which you raise your eyebrows at. “Instead of my secrets, can we compromise on revealing a gift instead?”

You gape at him. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.”

“Steve! I didn’t even get you anything, I hate being empty handed! This is literally my worst nightmare–”

Steve places the box on the counter with a devilish smile on his face. “Just shush and open it, Y/N.”

“But–”

“Open it.”

You sigh, very much against this entire thing, but curiosity gets the better of you. Steve has only been your friend for barely a month now, what could he have possibly gotten you? The wrapping is well done, vastly neater than Jonathan’s had been, which you comment on.

Steve blushes. “My mom sorta helped me wrap it.”

Something warm settles in your stomach at the idea of Steve’s mom helping him wrap his gift for you. “Tell her that I admire her tasteful wrapping skills.”

Steve chuckles and tells you he will, but he’s too focused on watching you slowly unwrap the gift. Inside is a rectangular box, thin but sturdy, and you look up at your friend curiously. “What’s this?”

“Open it and see.” Steve says, giving you a duh look.

You roll your eyes at him but lift the box’s lid and almost scream when you see what’s inside.

Steve anxiously studies your reaction, seeing the way your eyes widen comically and you throw your hands over your mouth to stifle a scream. You’re practically jumping up and down in your excitement to hold the framed poster up, and he feels relief wash over him. You seem to love the gift, he finally did something right.

“How the fuck did you get this?” You exclaim, studying the incredible details on the poster. It’s the cover of the very first edition of Spider-Man, Amazing Fantasy #15. You eyes scan over it and notice scrawled handwriting next to Spider-Man’s leg. “No, oh my god.”

“Notice anything special about it?” Steve leans against the counter with his arms crossed, a pleased smile on his face.

“It’s signed? By Stan fucking Lee?”

“Yup.”

You run out from behind the counter and engulf Steve in your arms. He’s stiff against you, having not expected such a reaction, but you don’t care. You bury your face in his chest and squeeze him, trying your best to exude your immense gratitude. “Thank you,”

Steve slowly relaxes into the embrace and wraps his arms around you, gently patting your back. “My dad knows a guy… Thought you’d like it.”

“I love it, Steve.” You whisper, your words muffled by his sweater.

You’re still wrapped in his arms, standing toe to toe with him, and you’re so happy it almost hurts. Steve’s arms are warm and strong and you feel him hesitantly rest his cheek atop of your head. He brings you in closer, secures his hold on you a little tighter, and you can smell that stupidly expensive and addicting cologne of his.

Steve is internally freaking out. Not only is he hugging you right now, but he’s surrounded by you. Your hair is against his cheek, your soft perfume overtakes his senses, and the sweater you’re wearing has Steve believing that everything about you is just warm and comforting and lovely. He wants to pull you in deeper, pull you into him, even.

He’s never been hugged like this before, so openly and with such sincerity.

He doesn’t want this moment to end, honestly.

Then your boss comes through the front door. “Well, hello there, children.”

You don’t necessarily pull away from Steve, letting an arm linger around him so that you can face your boss. “Hello, Mrs. Waters. We were just wrapping up, then we’ll be out of your hair.”

She waves you off, winking, and scurries over to her office. “Oh, don’t mind me! Carry on!”

You and Steve laugh, no ounce of tension between you. He seems carefree as always, and you have to refrain from pulling him into another hug. You look up at him, still toe to toe, so your head almost butts against his chin. “I sort the books, you stack?”

He smiles down at you. “Deal.”

–

Winter becomes spring and somehow you manage to finish sophomore year without any further problems. Jonathan remains by your side, Steve continues to visit you at work, and you even strike up a tentative friendship with Nancy.

It was hard at first, especially after she got back together with Steve, but Jonathan seemed to do well at burying down his feelings and insisted that the four of you could make things work, so you do.

Nancy is a joy to be around when you forget about the fact that Jonathan is hopelessly in love with her. She’s incredibly intelligent, cunning, and a great chemistry partner. Following the events of Will, you and her discover that by studying together, Kaminsky’s exams aren’t too difficult.

You often study together in the library while Jonathan sits across the table doing his own work. Slowly, Steve begins to join in as well. He usually spends your study sessions cracking jokes and bugging Jonathan, but after a while even he breaks down Jonathan’s stoic demeanor and strikes up their own hesitant relationship.

It’s not perfect, there’s still some underlying tension between you, Nancy, and Jonathan, but it’s enough.

Plus, it’s useful having Steve around whenever Jonathan and Nancy slip off into their own world. It’s become inevitable, something you’ve come to accept, but at least you can turn to Steve now and roll your eyes together.

It’s really nice, actually.

He eases the sting of losing Jonathan, even if he doesn’t realize it. Makes everything more bearable.

Summer comes and you don’t see Nancy as often, but Steve makes sure to visit your job whenever possible.

One day he comes in looking nervous and doesn’t do his usual greeting. He doesn’t wave, doesn’t flash you his signature smile, he just walks straight towards the counter with a frightened look on his face. “I need your help.”

You put the book you’d been reading down and immediately feel dread overwhelming you. Something is happening again, all those contracts you had to sign by Hawkins Lab are coming back to bite you in the ass. Will is in danger again. “Is everything okay?”

He must see the terrified look in your eyes and he quickly reassures you. “Oh, no it’s nothing serious, I just… I need your help with something.”

“Holy fuck,” you let out a breath, feeling your heartbeat start to return to normal. “Dude, after the whole monster fiasco, can we use some discretion when it comes to asking for help?”

“Right, sorry.”

“It’s fine… So, what’s up?”

Steve looks around the store to ensure no one is listening, which you find a bit odd, but whatever. He leans in close and whispers, “I need your help finding a gift for Nancy.”

“A gift?”

“Yeah. It’ll be six months with her soon and I just, I don’t know. I want to be a good boyfriend and get her something she’ll like. But I don’t know what she’d like, I’m the worst gift giver ever.”

You frown. “That’s not true. The poster you got me is hanging in my room as we speak.”

“Thanks, Y/N. But Nancy is different, she’s… She’s still really shaken up about Barb and I want to make it up to her. Cheer her up, ya know?” Steve fiddles with his sunglasses, you’ve never seen him so closed off and guarded before.

“Okay, well. What did you have in mind?”

“Something she’ll love.” Steve thinks for a moment. “A diamond necklace, maybe?”

“Okay, woah.” You put your hand up to slow down Steve’s frantic ideas. “I know you mean well, but Nancy is like. Pretty well off. She can afford her own diamond necklace, but besides that, she’s not a very materialistic girl. She wouldn’t like a necklace.”

Steve sighs. “You’re right. That’s um, actually why I’m here.”

“Oh?” You’re intrigued now.

“Nance has been going on and on about this news article that came out recently. Something about politics, or maybe the weather?” You stare at Steve, urging him to get to the point. “Sorry, doesn’t matter. Okay, basically I know she likes journalism. And you work at a bookstore, so…”

“You want to get her some books on journalism?” You ask, your heart clenching. Here’s this guy, Steve fucking Harrington, who is gorgeous and kind and shyly asking you for book advice for a girl he so dearly loves.

Somehow you envy Nancy Wheeler even more than you already do. She really does have it all, and you can’t even begrudge her for it. She’s genuinely a nice person, it’d be easier to hate her if she was horrible, but she isn’t.

Typical.

“Is that dumb? Actually, you know what, now that I’m saying it out loud it sounds stupid–”

You grab Steve’s hand, interrupting him. “Hey, no. It’s actually a really sweet idea. I think… I think she’ll really love it.”

Steve looks relieved and you can’t help but pity him. He’s trying so hard to be better for Nancy, to be all she wants him to be, and yet just yesterday you had to break up a weird staring contest between Nancy and Jonathan when you’d been at her place picking up Will and Dustin.

Your heart aches for this boy, so in love with a girl you’re afraid may love your best friend.

You guide Steve over to the journalistic section of Bookstrordinary and tell him some of your personal favorites. It’s not your favorite genre, but you’re familiar enough with it to give Steve a good starting point, which he’s immensely grateful for.

“You’re a lifesaver, Y/N.”

“What can I say? It’s a talent of mine.”

Steve starts to search through the books and you leave him alone to get back to work. It’s a slow day today, the mid July heat seemingly keeping everyone at home, so you spend most of your time watching Steve. He meticulously goes through each and every book, spending almost three hours reading their synopses over and over again to ensure that he finds Nancy the best book.

Occasionally he mumbles to himself, shaking his head when a book doesn’t fit quite right with what he has in mind, or exclaiming with glee when he finds the perfect one. Slowly he accumulates his own little pile of books before he brings them over to you.

He places the stack on your counter with a proud smile on his face. “I’ll take these, please.”

You whistle at the pile. “Think it’ll be enough?”

“Do you think I need more?” Steve asks, fear in his voice.

“I’m kidding, Steve. This is more than enough; it’s perfect.”

You start ringing the books up and Steve leans against the counter, back into his usual stance at your job. The price racks up quickly, but you’re sure it’s no problem for someone like Steve. In total he’s selected six books for Nancy, and with each book you scan you feel more tugging at your heart.

He deserves better, but he wouldn’t listen to you if you told him.

“Thanks again, by the way.” Steve breaks the silence.

“For what?”

“For helping me. You’ve always been so patient with me, well–I don’t know. It’s nice.” Steve rubs the back of his neck, sheepish.

You find yourself blushing as well, his words making you uneasy as always. “It’s nothing, Steve. We’re friends, what else am I supposed to do?”

“Well, I’ve never really had any friends before. I’m still new to this.” He confesses, looking away.

Again your heart aches for the boy. Here King Steve is, admitting to you that he’s never really had any friends before. You can’t imagine what that must be like, being so loved by a crowd of admirers yet isolated because of it.

You think about Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, and the various people who seemed to flow in and out of Steve’s inner circle of friends. The numerous girls he never stayed with for long, the boys who only used him for his popularity, you never considered how exhausting that all must’ve been. Surrounded by all, yet loved by none.

Hell, even with Nancy, Steve has confessed to you that he feels like he’s too much for her sometimes.

“You’re a great friend, Steve.” You reassure him, trying to keep your voice level. You know that any hint of pity will only make him feel lesser than, but you really wish you could make him believe you. Steve Harrington has somehow become your favorite person to be around. “I promise, you’re a natural when it comes to friendship.”

Steve smiles. “You think so?”

“I know so. In fact,” you finish ringing Steve up and deduct your employee discount from his total, dropping the price significantly. “I just gave you my employee discount because that’s what friends do and I know you’ll do the same for me one day. That is, if you ever get a job.”

He puts his hands in the air. “Hey, the way I see it: why get a job when I don’t need one?”

“Such wise words from a rich kid.”

“What if the rich kid offered to buy you dinner to repay you?” Steve’s tone is teasing, but there’s openness in his eyes that makes you freeze. He wants you to say yes, he’s almost pleading with you to accept his offer with those big brown eyes that make you want to scream.

You want to say yes, to accept his offer and go out to dinner with him and laugh and tease each other’s food choices and feel like the only two people to exist in Hawkins, but you can’t.

Steve is looking at you with a softness in his eyes that catches in the July afternoon light, and you see the shift. It’s subtle, but it’s there. He’s looking at you as if he’d do whatever you asked, without any hesitation, because he cares about you in a way that no one quite has before.

Sure, you’ve noticed it before through his actions, but seeing the deep fondness behind his eyes is something entirely different. You feel this flutter within your chest and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. He’s looking at you as if you’re holding the goddamn sun, and you can’t do it.

You can’t tell Steve yes.

He’s Nancy’s. So is Jonathan.

You can’t develop feelings for yet another guy that Nancy Wheeler has claimed for herself.

You don’t love Steve, but you know how easily you could fall for him. With him, everything is easier. Your laughs feel freer, your heart a little lighter. With Steve, it feels like you’re coming home after being away for so long. First uncertain of what you’ve left behind, but then so full of love once you’re embraced with open arms as if no time has passed.

It would be so easy falling in love with Steve.

That’s why you tell him no.

“I can’t.” You finally say. It takes everything within you to get the words out, as if your body is physically unable to break Steve Harrington’s heart. But you have to.

Steve’s smile drops. “Oh, alright.”

You wrap up the last of the books for Nancy, take the cash from Steve, and then inform him that you have a lot of work to do before closing. “You should leave.”

“Already?” He looks so hurt and you want to just kiss his cheek, whisper how lovely he is.

But he’s too lovely. Too selfless towards you. Too kind and charismatic and easygoing.

He’s too much for you, but not in the way that plagues him with fear of rejection.

He’s too much for you because of how easily you could embrace him entirely, how willing you are to make room for him even if you already know there’s plenty of space for him regardless.

“Yeah,” you busy yourself with a meaningless pile of books. “Just go home, give Nancy those books.”

The words burn your tongue almost as much as your tears burn your eyes.

But you remind yourself of Jonathan, of how much it hurts to hear him say Nancy’s name like a prayer. How Steve describes her as if she’s the moon and he’s a lowly astronomer tasked with studying her.

You can’t keep putting yourself through this hurt.

It isn’t fair to yourself, and for once you need to be selfish.

Steve leaves, mumbling a soft goodbye, and you vow then and there to push him away. You’ve gotten too used to his company; you came too close to falling in love with yet another person who couldn’t possibly ever love you back.

So you limit your interactions with Steve.

You’re dismissive when he comes to your job the next day, then the next, and the next. He seems hurt at first, asking you if he’s done anything wrong, why you’re icing him out, but eventually after a few weeks he seems to let it go.

You’re thankful for that. For his ability to read you and understand that there’s something more, you just can’t tell him.

July turns to August and Steve stops coming by Bookstrordinary.

You go back to only spending time with the boys or Jonathan, rarely ever Nancy. You don’t see much of Steve, and sometimes it feels like last November never happened. Like he never came into your life and flipped it completely upside down. The only reminder that it had been real is the poster that hangs on your wall, taunting you for your cowardice.

Jonathan notices your change in demeanor, missing Steve more than you thought you would, but you make up some lie and change the topic. You know it’s for the better. It has to be for the better. And yet it feels like you’ve just lost something incredible. Something that could’ve been everything, an almost that you’ll never quite understand.

But you refuse to fall in love with Steve Harrington.

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cissa-calls · 4 months

Text

Rewatching Crimson Peak & Things of Focus and Notice:

As a child at her mothers funeral, Edith wears butterfly/moth earrings

Is the pen her father gifts her the one she later uses to stab Lucille? He describes the importance of having “The right tool for the job,” is that foreshadowing for gifting her the tool to begin her escape from Crimson Peak?

Is Edith wearing a butterfly hair clip when she dances the waltz with Thomas?

Lucille’s iconic crimson red gown is so detailed, so beautiful. It represents the skeletal ghosts with its spinal column along the back, crimson peak itself in color, the carapace of a bug on the sleeves and structure, and the upper bodice has trim that blooms outward (present similarly in her blue gown) but is bisected by buttons…creating a familiar shape…a moth?

The candle they hold during the waltz is held at the same level Edith holds her iconic candelabra, a subtle parallel

The trim on the collar of Lucille’s black dress references the spikes and trims of gothic architecture - which is very heavily featured in Allerdale Hall

Lucille says that: “At home we only have Black moths, formidable creatures but they lack beauty.” Knowing the parallel between her and moths, it implies that she sees herself as a survivor and powerful, but something no longer beautiful because of it

Lucille places the butterfly she holds directly into the ants, an action that’s brutal but quick. Is it foreshadowing to her execution of Edith’s death? Something quick for such a beautiful thing, done by her hand?

The LOOK Lucille gives Thomas when they realize Edith’s father knows their past. THE LOOK (JESSICA CHASTAIN YOUR ACTING)

“You seem the more collected one my dear” Lucille is called this. She always holds the mission undetered in her mind, as opposed to Thomas who seems more easily swayed by emotions

When Thomas breaks Edith’s heart by ripping apart her book. He says: “What do you dream of? A kind man? A pure soul to be redeemed? A wounded bird to be nourished?” He is telling her exactly what he is. None of those things, none of the dreams she has built of him in her mind. Not with a past and life such as his.

The significance of gramophones and wax cylinders: it is what plays when Edith’s father is murdered, it is also what saves her from meeting the same fate

I want to know more about Lucille!! Her character is so rich, so so complex, she needs more screen time!!

Need a prop replica of the ring NOW

[the house] “is a privilege we were born into, one we can never relinquish” METAPHOR ALERT METAPHOR ALERT metaphor for the cycles of abuse and trauma they could not break

HOW THE FRICK did I MISS the fact that Thomas’ workshop is in the attic when that was where him and Lucille were locked up as children. SO MANY IMPORTANT SCENES HAPPEN THERE. So many significant to their past we never see, so many ghosts not visible but are so real and present to have caused this

The trail of smoke like red essence that emanates from the ghosts as they walk, like they are still bleeding

Lucille’s hair looks black in darker lighting, but a dark brunette in others. It’s provides a black, dark shroud when she’s in America, and catches more light when she’s in Allerdale Hall

“I like to think she can see us from up there. I don’t want her to miss a single thing we do.” UM MA’AM

“…in time, everything will be right” LUCILLE QUEEN OF FINAL OMINOUS STATEMENTS IN SCENES

The amount I WISH to explore this set. To pry apart each detail and pick apart each piece, so much of it had to be handcrafted pieces for the movie or vintage pieces sourced for it. LET ME IN

THE LIGHTING MUAH

The ghost in the hallway has a rope dragging behind her…is this a gory detail, or an allusion to how she may have died (if not by poison)?

The ghost in Edith’s dream is pointing, though it is never shown to what. Is it to the exit, her warning to leave as all the other ghosts try to do?

The children’s laughter after the presumed scream of their mother’s ghost as she is stabbed, is it just for creepy effect, or did Lucille and Thomas actually laugh after they murdered her?

The scar on Lucille’s lip? Never noticed it before!

Not the first time I’ve noticed it, but the act of her clutching hot steaming food with her bare hands is chilling every single time

Were the bodies of Thomas’s wives left in the vats of clay? I don’t know HOW I didn’t make that connection before, originally i thought it was merely for creepy effect.

Many people villainize Lucille and try to make Thomas out to be solely a victim. But as stated in the wax cylinder, he was fueled by his desire to pay for and make his machine. Him and Lucille are both complacent in using their victims money for their own gain

We need to bring Chatelaine’s back into fashion. That is all.

The scrape of the spoon over the porcelain cup, it screeches and is a subtle way that shows Lucille act of caring has a harshness to it, an unpleasant sound resulting from an otherwise pleasant action: tending to Edith

Such an interesting camera choice to have the camera focus in a circular inwards and outwards

also also Lucille has a temple scar on her forehead?

The small amount of glee Lucille takes saying Edith “thought [she] was was a writer” as she throws the pages to her novel in the fire.

The absolute deadpan, matter-of-fact-ness Lucille has to Edith when she signs the papers “you have nothing to live for” & “mercy killings.” This is a familiar repeated cycle

“Sign your name! Sign your bloody name!” Bloody is not just for emphasis. Edith’s name is soon to be nothing but blood

Lucille’s night gown sleeves as she flies down the stairs in pursuit - like a moths wings fluttering towards its prey

Lucille and Edith fought each other with bare feet on the stone and in the snow

Lucille is the only one of the two who knows how to start Thomas’s machine, because she was the one who witnessed it working

It is only the stab wound on Thomas’ face that bleeds and smokes when he is a ghost, perhaps because it is the wound that bears his betrayal by Lucille, reminiscent of tears of his lingering pain

Edith now has a facial scar, gifted to her by Lucille, who bore ones of her own. It is a passage, a continuing of the cycle, but it is its finale. It is Edith’s souvenir from Lucille, who took her own souvenir (her hair) from the other like a prize

#a very exhaustive list from my most recent rewatch of one of MY FAVORITE MOVIES #crimson peak #many many thoughts #lucille sharpe #edith cushing #thomas sharpe #cissarambles

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janaispunk · 4 months

Text

it’s the season

part of the space sisters secret santa 2023 - for @pascalispretty, merry christmas sophie! 🫶🏻

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~ 1.8k

summary: Joel had promised his daughters that they would bake Christmas cookies this weekend - which turns out to be more complicated than he had anticipated. Fortunately, their new neighbor next door can help.

tags: AU! no outbreak, Joel has both of his daughters, FLUFF, hints at reader’s sad backstory but nothing specific, mentions of alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, I think that’s it? Let me know if I missed something <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

full masterlist here

follow @janaispunknotifs and turn on notifications for fic updates

shoutout to @reddedmiller for holding my hand while writing this and convincing me that it’s not trash, i love you bby <3

It’s Sunday, one week until Christmas, and Joel Miller is beginning to lose his mind.

His daughters had been bugging him about baking Christmas cookies with them for weeks, and he wants nothing more than to make them happy, but while Joel is many things, he’s certainly not a baker.

Work has been hectic lately, which apparently led to him forgetting to buy the ingredients that the girls swear up and down they had requested several times.

He’s had to sent Sarah to ask one of their neighbors to lend them something twice now and by the looks of it, he’s gonna have to do it a third time. She groans and insists to take Ellie with her this time, complaining about how this is “sooooo embarrassing, Dad!”

You furrow your brow when your doorbell rings for the third time in half an hour, a slightly disbelieving look on your face when you open the door and once again reveal the young girl from next door standing on your porch, this time accompanied by who you think is her younger sister.

You only moved into the house a month ago and don’t really know any of your neighbors, except for the elderly couple that lives a few houses over. They had introduced themselves hours after you moved in and have tried to invite you to come to Sunday church with them several times, an invitation that you consistently decline.

You know the girls though, you often see them through your windows, constantly pestering their father, who constantly fends them off in a kind of gruffy but clearly loving manner.

The girl who had introduced herself as “Sarah” when she first came by thirty minutes ago to ask for baking powder smiles at you apologetically.

“Hi… again. I’m so sorry, do you by any chance have cinnamon as well?”

You can't help but laugh this time. “What are you guys even doing over there? I think I do, why don’t you come in while I go check?” They nod and follow you into your kitchen where you start digging through your supply of baking ingredients.

“Our Dad said he’d bake Christmas cookies with us today, but he forgot to get the groceries for it,” the other girl explains. “I’m Ellie, by the way.” You smile and tell her your name, then hand over the cinnamon to them.

“That’s very sweet of your Dad,” you remark, “I’m sure he’s trying his best.”

Ellie’s eyes fly over your neatly organized collection of ingredients and baking utensils, then her face lights up with an idea.

“Hey! You look like you’re a good baker and our Dad is really struggling to be honest. Do you want to come over and join us?”

“Ellie,” Sarah argues, “you can’t just invite people like that, I’m sure she has plans already.”

You don’t, to be fair, but you’ve never spoken to their father before, who’s rather giving the impression that he likes to keep to himself.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude…” you begin, when Sarah looks around herself and notices that you don’t have any Christmas decorations up around your house.

“Or do you not celebrate Christmas?” she asks, “You obviously don’t have to come if that’s not…”

Your heart warms at how considerate the young girl is trying to be. “No I do, I just didn’t…” you trail off, not sure how to explain that it feels pointless putting up decorations just for yourself and that you don’t want the reminders that it will be the first Christmas in your life that you’ll be spending completely alone. You shake your head and plaster a smile on your face. You do like baking and maybe this will help getting you into the spirit.

“You know what? Okay, if it’s alright with your Dad, I’ll come over and see how I can help.”

Both girls beam at you and you follow them over to their house, where you find their Dad elbows deep in a mixing bowl with dough sticking to his fingers and swearing to himself under his breath. You feel awkward and definitely like an intruder but the girls’ mouths are going a mile a minute, explaining how you had soooo many baking supplies and that you had agreed to help them.

Their Dad introduces himself as “Joel” and you feel your cheeks heating when you notice how attractive he is up close. You had already thought that when you’ve seen him from afar, but now that you’re standing in his kitchen, it really hits you. Trying to snap out of it, you take a closer look at the dough that he’s fighting with.

“This needs more flour, then it’ll be less sticky,” you mutter, suddenly feeling a bit shy, and go to add it to the mix in his bowl. He huffs a “Thanks” and you smile, still fighting the heat in your cheeks but also feeling excitement buzz through you as your hand brushes against his when you pull back.

The girls kick back into action then, throwing several recipes at you that they want to try and you do your best to coordinate it all, running back to your place for ingredients several times, accompanied by an apologetic look from Joel every time, but you honestly don’t mind. His daughters are adorable and you’re having more fun than you’ve had in months.

Sarah turns on the radio and Christmas songs sound through the kitchen. With the music in your ear and the smell of freshly baked cookies in your nose, you feel at ease, comfortable.

When all the cookies are baked and thoroughly taste tested, the girls retreat to their rooms on the upper floor, leaving you and Joel alone in the kitchen. You find that you don’t want to leave, don’t want to go back to that big empty house where it’s just you, not now that you’ve basked in the warmth of this family home right next to yours all day. And just maybe, you want to spend more time with Joel.

“I have a bottle of pretty good red wine, shall I go and bring that? Half of my kitchen’s contents are here already” you joke and Joel laughs.

“I’m sorry about that, I’m usually better prepared, but work’s been crazy these weeks and the girls insisted on baking today, so…” He scratches his neck and you smile at him.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve had a great time today. Finally got me into the holiday spirit a bit, I kinda really needed that.”

You walk over and take the wine bottle back to his place where you sit down in the living room, the Christmas tree that has been mostly decorated by the girls shining in the corner and the several strings of fairy lights that Sarah has spread all over the room glowing around you.

You feel a warmth and comfort that you haven’t felt in a long time, but also a kind of envy for this feeling of family, of how clearly this man and the two girls belong together, how their house is basically imbued with love for each other. A feeling that you’re not sure you’ve ever had, but that you suddenly find yourself desperately longing for.

“So…” Joel begins, a faint expression of uncertainty on his face. “Is it just you over there, or…?” You understand what he’s asking and nod, a wry smile playing around your lips.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s a bit of a long story, really, but yes, it’s just me.” The understanding is clear on his face and he doesn’t push you, sensing that you don’t want to expand on the subject and you’re grateful.

You still talk about both of your pasts, where you grew up, where you went to school, learning that Joel lost his parents when he was young, only two years after he had Sarah, how it had been just the both of them in the beginning, with the addition of his younger brother whom he speaks of with the loving kind of exasperation that only an older sibling can muster up, and how he adopted Ellie a few years later.

You finish the bottle quicker than you would like to, and when Joel walks you home and you’re both stood in front of your door, you’re drunk on more than the red wine, a happiness in your veins that warms you from within.

Joel clears his throat, his eyes trained on your face.

“Listen, I don’t want ya to feel pressured or nothin’, but would you want to come over for Christmas Eve? ‘S just me an’ the girls, nothin’ fancy, just-“ he shrugs, his hands buried in his pockets, “don’t like the thought of you alone in this house on Christmas.”

It might be embarrassing how quickly you say “yes”, but you can’t bring yourself to feel that way. A smile stretches across Joel’s face as he tells you “good night” and kisses your cheek before you step into your house and watch him walk back to his.

Christmas at the Miller household is one of the best evenings that you’ve ever had. Sarah and Ellie have gone all out on the decorations now that they have a guest, leaving twinkling lights, glitter and ornaments in every corner and on every surface, Joel makes a surprisingly good dinner, you’re playing board games with the girls that dissolve into fights between them most of the time, everyone is talking over each other and you’re all eating chocolate until you’re sick with the sugar high.

Late in the evening, with both of the girls softly snoring on the couch, tangled up in each other like two overly large kittens, Joel and you are sharing another bottle of wine. You feel so full of happiness that you feel like you might burst, a smile on your face that feels like it’s never gonna leave again.

When it’s time for you to go home, Joel stands with you and walks with you to his front door. “Thank you again, for inviting me,” you smile at him, “this was probably the best Christmas Eve that I’ve ever had.”

He nods, his gaze dancing between your eyes and your lips.

“Merry Christmas,” you murmur, butterflies erupting in your stomach. He leans in and you hesitantly do the same. Before you can overthink it, you cradle his face in your hands and pull him towards you, your lips meeting in a soft kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers against your lips.

i hope you liked this!!! merry christmas and happy holidays 🫶🏻

#space sisters secret santa 2023 #janas fics #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel and sarah #joel and ellie #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff

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