#Big box vhs

[helena-bottom-farter]

The Deadly Spawn 

Dir. Douglas McKeown, 1983

Aka Return of the Aliens: The Deadly Spawn or The Return of the Alien's Deadly Spawn

[skinetom]

Midnight Video ~ Video Distributor ~ 1982 ~ 1985

[littlejazzy]

My Snughoul, Bites-A-Lot Bat! 💖💖💖

[flowergirlmiwa]

some kids show tapes 💕 + some of them are sealed!

[pxper-riings]

my sister got me the orphan black dvd set for my birthday. i never have to rely on streaming again

[littlexdeaths]

𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 (𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖)

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI, insecure eddie makes an appearance, eddie’s pov, tons of kissing, drug use (weed), grinding/dry humping and a whole lot of cheese, what can i say? (it’s a given with these two)

part four | part six

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 4.9k

a/n: damn this was a long time coming. thank you guys for being so patient with me during this writing slump. also big shoutout to @strangerstilinski for gifting me that one porno title. but i really need to give the biggest thank you to my bestie @undead-supernova ! august, you have truly helped me improve my writing so much over the past year, and i hope you know how much i love and appreciate you. this chapter is dedicated to you boo xx.

“You cannot be serious, sweetheart,” Eddie deadpans, looking between you and the VHS tape clutched between his fingers.

You feel your face warm, his overly exaggerated tone causing another customer in the horror section to give you both a sideways glance.

“As a heart attack,” you mumble, grabbing a copy of Children of the Corn to read the back cover in order to avoid his piercing gaze.

“Never seen Alien, she says…” he huffs under his breath, “It’s a classic!”

When you finally dare to peek up at him under your lashes, he’s giving you a look of utter disapproval that wavers on the edge of teasing.

“Sci-Fi isn’t really my thing,” you shrug, putting the tape back and reaching for another.

“But Evil Dead is?” he muses, leaning forward over your shoulder to glance at the cover art.

The background is dark, with two grotesque-like hands reaching into the frame and toward a bloodied Bruce Campbell holding a chainsaw above his head. When Eddie leans in closer to get a better look, the tips of his fingers brush against your own in the process. The gentle touch sends your body into overdrive and you swear your heart is about to leap out of your chest from the proximity.

“Well…what about this one?” you ask, stepping out of his embrace to head further down the aisle, ignoring the rising heat in your cheeks as you nearly stumble. Damn heels.

“I would argue that this is a classic.”

But Eddie just slips in behind you again, resting a hand on your hip while you hold a copy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in your hands.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, holding back a snicker as you gasp in mock offense.

“You doubt my judgment?”

“Of course not,” he insists with a small snort. “But…maybe you have a thing for guys who wield chainsaws.”

You catch the sly grin that stretches across his lips out of the corner of your eye, a loud laugh puffing out from his chest when you playfully smack his shoulder. Eddie grabs the tape from you, leaning in a little closer until his lips brush against your ear.

And he doesn’t miss the subtle hitch of your breath.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart…” he cheekily assures, “Your secret is safe with me.”

When you throw a playful glare his way, he merely winks in response. Then he turns on his heel to stride back toward the front counter, snagging a box of Reese’s Pieces on his way. You fumble a step behind him before glancing up.

The employee manning the counter is someone you know all too well.

His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, the ends brushing against his forehead and falling into his eyes. But he’s still just as handsome, if not annoyingly so. And when Eddie sets the tapes on the counter, Steve barely spares him a passing glance. His brown eyes quickly settle on you as his lips pull up into a lazy grin.

“Find everything you were looking for?” he asks, the cadence of his voice is low but filled with a sticky sweetness that has your cheeks warming.

And if you didn’t know any better you would think he was flirting with you.

“O-Oh, I, uh— ”

“Yeah,” Eddie cuts in, his voice a little strained. “We found everything just fine, man.”

Steve gives you another soft grin as he snaps open the first case, a small snort leaving his nose.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for the gore fest type.”

But that slight hint of disbelief in his tone has you wanting to shrink in on yourself.

“Then you don’t know her very well,” Eddie mutters under his breath.

Only, his snide comment isn’t as quiet as he initially intended.

But Steve says nothing, just clears his throat and runs a hand through his chestnut locks before sliding the movies across the counter. The clacking of the keyboard fills the uncomfortable silence as you tug at the worn vinyl on the counter.

“That’ll be $12.35.”

You can feel Eddie tense beside you.

“I thought the movies were 2 for $4 tonight?” you chime in softly, confusion scrunching your brows together.

Steve’s lip quirks up in a slight smirk as he glances between you and Eddie.

“Well, Munson here has racked up quite a lot of late fees…” he trails before whistling. The flash of amusement in his eyes has Eddie’s narrowing in warning.

But that look only seems to encourage him.

“Looks like we’ve got Erotic Night of the Living Dead, returned three days late. Munch Masters Vol. I…”, Steve pauses to scroll further down the list. “…and Vol. II, that was a week late.”

He flashes Eddie a condescending grin, “Must’ve really liked that one, huh?”

But before Steve can embarrass him further, Eddie fishes out his wallet and slams a couple bills down onto the counter. He grabs the tapes, tucking them under his arm and slips his hand in yours. The boy all but pulls you out of the store, his chin tucked toward his chest to try and hide the flames licking his cheeks.

Despite his ever growing irritation—fueled by the embarrassment of what just transpired—he still opens the door and helps you into the van.

Ever the gentleman.

“Harrington’s got some nerve,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he slides into the driver's seat. “With his nice smile and his stupid hair…” His voice drips with condescension as he slams the driver's door shut behind him.

“Embarrassing me is one thing. But blatantly flirting with my girl, right in front of me—like I wasn't even there?! That’s low even for him.”

Eddie doesn’t even realize what he just let slip, too busy fumbling to stick the key into the ignition.

A beat passes before you manage to gather the courage to speak, the jingling of keys echoing in your ears.

“Your girl?�� you ask carefully, heart lodged in your throat.

Eddie’s whole body tenses, taking his time in setting the tapes down on the dashboard before finally turning to face you.

“Well…I, uh, shit,” he whispers, splotches of red beginning to creep up his neck while he exhales sharply through his nose. “I wanted to ask you in a proper, more romantic way—”

You suddenly turn in your seat, your grip on his collar firm while your lips manage to cut him off with a surprised hmph.

But he’s quick to recover, mouth molding over yours with an intensity that would make your knees buckle if you were still standing. And he keeps kissing you, slowly, deeply…until the windows begin to fog up from the heat of your mingling breaths.

“I don’t need romantic, Eddie,” you manage when he pulls away for some much needed air, your nose nudges against his own before you press another gentle kiss to his swollen lips. “Just you.”

And his answering grin is all the reassurance you need.

“Welcome to my castle,” Eddie says, gesturing toward the pale blue trailer with a tentative smile.

He barely let you push open the passenger door before he was running around the front of the van, almost dropping the VHS tapes tucked under his arm in the process. But the soft giggle you let slip when he bows and offers you his hand had his heart skipping a beat.

He keeps your fingers intertwined as you walk alongside him to the door. The uneven gravel makes the otherwise short distance in your heels a little more treacherous than normal. But Eddie is more than willing to catch you at the slightest hint of a wobble in your step.

The night air is far more frigid than either of you anticipated, and the shiver that ripples through you has him nearly dropping the keys in his rush to open the front door. He curses softly, breathing out a sigh of relief when the door finally swings open.

“Ladies first,” he grins, gesturing you forward.

Once you're both safely inside Eddie drops the keys on the table by the door, kicking off his shoes and switching on lights as he goes. He inwardly cringes when he spots the fast food wrappers scattered across the counter and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

What a great first impression, Munson.

But when he remembers the current state of his bedroom, his face pales.

“Uh, I’m just gonna…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck before motioning behind him with his thumb. “Grab a new shirt, but go ahead and make yourself at home.”

Eddie waits until you’ve taken a seat on the sofa before starting down the hall. He’s frantic when he bursts through his bedroom door, immediately eyeing the pile of clothes strewn across his unmade bed. A disaster he left in the wake of trying to pull together a last minute Halloween costume.

He found the orange shirt that’s currently adorning your frame in the very back of his closet, a lost relic from the one time Wayne had managed to take him hunting. Eddie had fallen asleep up in the deer stand and almost shot a crossbow through his boot, and Wayne had vowed never again.

He had grabbed a discarded sharpie off his nightstand, the cap tucked between his teeth as he scribbled This is my Halloween costume across the front in his signature messy scrawl. While it wasn’t his most creative idea to date, it was either this or the god awful pirate costume he’d been suckered into a few years back. That most definitely did not fit him anymore.

Eddie scoops up an armful of clothes, tossing them onto the already cluttered floor of his closet. His movements are erratic, nearly tripping over one of his amps in the process. While Eddie isn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, he is unable to disguise the way his hands are trembling.

He’s nervous, so fucking nervous.

And when he dares to peek out of his room and down the hall, he immediately has to remind himself to breathe.

Because there you are, sitting on his couch, wearing his shirt. Looking almost heaven sent, your eyes alight with wonder as you take in the collection of hats and mugs adorning the walls.

“Get a fuckin’ grip, man,” he mumbles to himself, dropping to his knees to shove more of the remaining clutter under his bed.

Once he returns to his feet, he slips his jacket off his shoulders and tosses it over the back of the chair before rifling through the top drawer of his dresser for a new shirt. Despite what a majority of the town believed, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was no stranger to the sins of the flesh. He’d lost his virginity his first senior year in the back of his van to band geek, Polly O’Donnell.

Which was probably why her mom had failed him two years in a row. Not that he was keeping score or anything.

But even in that moment, Eddie hadn’t felt this nervous.

Maybe, it was because he didn’t harbor the same feelings for Polly that he did for you. Or perhaps the real reason was that he just didn’t trust people or their intentions. His tumultuous upbringing and treatment by his peers was testament enough of that. So Eddie kept most people at arm's length, not allowing them to see past his scary façade.

It was safer that way.

But one look from you was enough to have his carefully crafted walls crumbling down, laid to rubble beneath his feet.

And that’s the thing that scared him the most. That he would willingly throw himself (and his heart) into the crossfire if it meant you would continue to look at him like that.

Man, he had it bad.

He huffs out a breath, grabbing the first unwrinkled shirt that he can find and pulling it over his head. The male takes one final glance around his bedroom, deciding it’s good enough before he turns to leave. But something on his nightstand catches his eye, the joint he rolled earlier practically beckoning him with the promise of sweet relaxation.

And with the state of his jangled nerves, he could use all the help he could get.

So he slips the joint behind his ear, spinning the lighter between his thumb and forefinger as he pads down the hall toward you.

And while his nerves were ravaging his insides, you aren’t faring much better.

You had counted every mug and hat that lined the walls of his living room twice over, in a feeble attempt to distract yourself from the fact that you were actually here with him. All alone, with no prying eyes or listening ears to interrupt you. And despite the fact that he just put a shirt back on, it doesn’t stop your thoughts from wandering to not so innocent places.

The sleeves are cut off, showing off his surprisingly toned biceps. An array of dark ink flows over his arms, the black shirt making him appear almost paler in comparison. You tuck your lower lip between your teeth when you see the muscles in his forearms contract when he places his palms flat on the counter.

Your thighs press together as your gaze travels lower, where his jeans cling a little too tightly to his—

“You still up for some pizza?” he asks, picking up the phone and interrupting your thoughts.

“O-Oh, right!” you blink, averting your eyes. “Pizza sounds great.”

He quickly punches in a number before you can ask any further questions, holding the receiver up to his ear.

“Hey man, it’s Eddie,” he says after a few moments.

The male tucks the receiver between his ear and shoulder while he speaks, fingers drumming lightly along the countertop. The movement causes his hair to fall over his face, a stray curl eventually finding its way into his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah the usual.” he sputters, spitting the hair out and tucking the wild curls back behind his ear. “But uh, can I get olives on half?”

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes roll into the back of his head fondly. And it has you contemplating what other ways you could make his eyes roll back.

“No no no, I have not become an ‘olive enthusiast.’” He scoffs, fingers curling into air quotes. “I just, I have…” he pauses, dark eyes flicking over to you. “I have a guest over tonight.”

And the way Eddie has to hold the phone away from his ear has you stifling a giggle. You can hear a muffled voice on the other end, their enthusiastic lilt apparent even from where you are perched on the end of the sofa.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” He chuckles, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “But that should be it.” Eddie tucks the phone back in between his shoulder, reaching to grab his wallet from his back pocket.

“Oh wait, wait!” He exclaims, slapping his palm down onto the counter. “Add on an order of those cinnamon breadsticks too.”

You wish you could’ve been privy to their entire conversation, because the way Eddie flushes a deep crimson before he playfully tells the person on the other end to ‘kindly fuck off’ and hangs up the phone, has you beyond intrigued.

He takes a couple more bills out, tossing them on the counter and slips the wallet back into his pocket. The chain jingles against his thigh with each step he takes, your eyes unintentionally following the movement. He plops down onto the sofa beside you, the heat in his cheeks fading into a soft, rosy sheen.

“Nina’s is busy tonight,” he murmurs, setting something onto the small table beside him. “So, it might take a little longer than usual.”

“How did you know Nina’s Pizzeria was my favorite?” you ask, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion.

“Well,” he hums, leaning his head back against the cushions and giving you a lazy grin. “I just assumed you had much better taste than Domino’s, sweetheart.”

You playfully whack him with one of the throw pillows beside you, a stunned expression crossing over his features. Half of his hair is ruffled from where the pillow connected with his head, and this time you can’t contain the giggles from bubbling up in your chest.

“Oh you are so going to regret that, baby.” he taunts, eyes narrowing in a predatory manner.

And your whole body stills.

Baby. He just called you baby.

Eddie uses this moment to his advantage, pouncing on you with a wicked cackle. His hands find your sides, quickly pulling giggle after breathless giggle from you. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot, you squeal and begin to thrash beneath him as he continues to torture you with his fingers.

Your attempts to get him back are futile. Eddie is much faster, taking both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. Both of your chests are rising and falling rapidly from the exertion, your faces mere inches apart.

His curls create a dark curtain around you, his eyes flicking down toward your lips. His minty breath washes over you, causing yours to lodge in your throat. You just stare at each other, both of you fighting the urge to close the remaining distance between your mouths.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat, “Movie time?”

“Movie time,” you agree.

And just like that, the moment is gone as quickly as it came. Eddie clumsily climbs off you, almost falling off the sofa in the process. His curls bounce as he springs back up, offering a hand to help you sit back up.

“Now my fair maiden, what film dost thou choose?”

He holds up both cases, the choice of movie concealed by the large Family Video logo. You purse your lips, glancing back and forth between the cases as if looking at them longer would somehow reveal the title beneath.

“That one.”

You point to the one in his left hand, and Eddie tosses the other back onto the coffee table. He pops open the plastic case and chuckles before looking up at you.

“Texas Chainsaw it is.” He grins, removing the tape from its case and heading toward the TV.

Eddie crouches down, balancing on the soles of his feet as he loads the tape into the VCR. our eyes can’t help but wander across the expanse of his broad shoulders and down his back. The hem of his shirt rides up ever so slightly as he reaches to switch the tv on, exposing the band of his boxer shorts and the pale skin of his lower back.

“However,” he continues, glancing over his shoulder at you. His eyes are warm and full of mischief. “You are not leaving this trailer until you get to experience the cinematic masterpiece that is Ridley Scott’s Alien.”

The playful threat has your whole body warming, feeling thankful when he finally switches off the lamp. The darkness of the room is a welcome reprieve with only his silhouette visible, illuminated by the glow from the TV. He bounds back over and takes the seat beside you.

You allow yourself to sink further into the sofa while Eddie grabs something off the side table. The spark of the lighter ignites the handsome features of his face, and the slight stubble along his jaw. His plush lips carefully wrap around the end of the joint, cheeks hollowing slightly as he inhales deeply.

The sight alone sends a delightful shiver up your spine, shifting your gaze back toward the television as the smoke billows out from between his lips.

“Are you cold?” he asks, draping his arm over the back of the sofa in search of the old quilt that was previously thrown over it.

But said quilt had unfortunately fallen behind the sofa in the midst of your scuffle, well beyond his reach now. Eddie leans in closer, cursing softly under his breath as he attempts to locate the missing quilt in the dark. You can feel the warmth radiating from his chest, which causes another shiver to pass through you.

“Maybe a little,” you murmur.

And the male doesn’t complain when you nuzzle yourself further into his side, happily curling his arm around your shoulders. He takes another hit from the joint as the trailers continue to flash across the screen, the upcoming releases now the furthest thing from your mind.

“You want some?” He holds the joint out toward you, blowing some smoke out the corner of his mouth. “No pressure, of course.”

You carefully take it from him, your fingers brushing against his own in the process. Despite your initial reservations, you immediately lift the joint to your lips, feeling his eyes continue to linger on your features. In your nervous haste you inhale a little too quickly, the smoke evading your lungs in sharp fragments that has you immediately coughing it back up.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there, killer,” he teases, gently rubbing your back, the touch a welcome distraction. “You gotta inhale slower.”

He takes the joint back from you, keeping it between his fingers while you continue to cough your lungs up. You’re very thankful he can’t see the way your eyes are watering as another cough racks through your chest.

“Have you ever smoked before?” he asks, only curiosity lacing his tone.

“Um, once,” cough. “In the ninth grade when I stole a cigarette out of my aunt’s purse.”

The memory is sparked, causing a smile to tug at the corner of your mouth. Your Aunt Bev had been visiting from Reno for Christmas, like she did every year. The eccentric woman was always decked out in colorful rhinestones and bright blue eyeshadow, spinning wild tales of her nights out on the strip much to the chagrin of your mother.

But you had never seen her without a trusty pack of Camel Turkish Golds.

So when one of your older cousins claimed you were too much of a prissy pants to join in on their smoke session (aka the infamous cousin walk), you took it upon yourself to swipe one from her purse and hoped she wouldn’t notice. But you received the lecture of a lifetime from her when you came back looking guilty and smelling like nicotine.

As you recount the tale back to him, you purposely leave out the part where you almost threw up in a snowbank because you were coughing so hard. No need to subject him to that visual. And while that experience had you swearing off cigarettes for the rest of your life, that didn’t mean you should deny yourself this one…right?

“Well your aunt’s absolutely right you know,” he says after a moment, that mischievous sparkle back in his eyes. “Cigarettes are terrible for you.”

You go to reach for that pillow again, ready to whack him in the head for good measure but Eddie chucks it across the room before you even have a chance to grab it. The pillow narrowingly misses the tv set by an inch, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

“Ah, ah ah!” he tuts, wagging a finger in front of your face. “Don’t mess with the mane, sweetheart.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes fondly before turning your attention back to the movie. But Eddie keeps his gaze on you, admiring how the soft glow highlights the features of your face. Your nose, which scrunches up in the cutest way whenever you’re annoyed. Your gentle eyes, that look at him as if he could do no wrong. And your lips—god, your lips. They’re slightly pouted, shiny with spit.

And Eddie's perverted mind can’t help but start to wander. He wonders how your lips would feel wrapped around him, or if those pretty eyes would roll back when he buried his tongue inside you.

Jesus H. Christ, was it getting hotter in here?

Eddie wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, willing all the blood in his body to stop rushing South.

Popping a boner during a horror flick, that’ll really impress her, idiot.

God, he was too sober for this.

The male quickly tears his gaze away from you, picking up the lighter and relighting the forgotten joint. He doesn’t notice your eyes drifting back toward him, like a moth to a flame.

He inhales deeply, allowing the smoke to curl into his lungs and dull his sexually intrusive thoughts. But he feels you staring, your eyes transfixed on where the smoke billows out from between his lips. He glances at the joint, then back at you. Then Eddie gets an idea, an awful, sinful idea.

He whispers your name as the room is bathed in darkness again, giving him the final push he needs.

“I want to try something…” he mumbles, carefully removing your glasses and placing them on the coffee table. “Do you trust me?”

You nod automatically.

“Then come here,” he says, voice hoarse.

And when you crawl into his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips…

Eddie is a goner.

Miraculously, he manages to keep his composure, despite the way his heart is about to leap out of his chest. You’ve never been this close before, where he can feel the warmth of your thighs seeping into his jeans and smell the faint perfume lingering on your neck.

Even in the dark, he can see that flicker of bashfulness cross over your features, that sudden urge to avoid his heated stare. To tuck in on yourself, to hide away. But to his surprise, you hold his gaze, bold and unwavering when one of his hands falls to rest on your hip. He attempts to soothe you, his thumb circling up and under your shirt.

“Inhale slowly, alright?” he gently reminds you.

His other hand brings that joint back to his full lips, the cherry end igniting brightly as he inhales.

Only this time when he lowers the joint, he leans forward. His lips brush against yours until they part beneath his own, the smoke slithering out and into your awaiting mouth. You inhale slowly—just as he instructed and let the smoke curl in and around your lungs.

And when you breathe out, he’s right there, inhaling the dissipating smoke into his own mouth with a proud smile.

“See? You’re a natural.”

Eddie takes another long drag and leans in again, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. And maybe it’s the look in his eye or the weed beginning to lull your nerves, but you fist the collar of his shirt and pull him into you, crashing your lips together for the second time that evening.

The male barely manages to discard the joint before he’s reeling you back in, tongue gliding over your lower lip and into your awaiting mouth. You taste like Juicy Fruit and a hint of purple palm tree delight, a combination that sets every nerve in his body on fire.

Your fingers wind into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently tugging and earning you a throaty moan. Eddie swears he’s lost it when your sweet moans begin to echo his own. The sound travels straight down, where his cock is straining pathetically against the seam of his jeans.

An uphill battle he’s been fighting since you kissed him in the parking lot of Family Video.

And when you feel that hardness pressing against your inner thigh, it only encourages you to keep going. Giving an experimental roll of your hips that has Eddie’s head lolling back onto the cushions, a choked sound resembling a whine escapes his mouth.

This new position provides you with easier access to his throat, giving you a surge of confidence before your lips find a home there and teeth nip wherever they can find purchase.

Eddie pants as your lips only trail lower, a grunt of your name mixes with a slew of curses when you suck a large bruise onto the base of his throat. Your lips make an audible pop when they detach from his skin and you lean back to assess the damage with a satisfied grin. He looks beautifully wrecked, lips swollen and eyes glossy.

You trace over the blossoming shades of red and purple on his neck with your fingertips, humming softly when you feel a shiver pass through him.

“My turn,” he insists, gently tipping your head back.

When he leans forward, lips brushing against your collarbone, he can almost taste the spiked punch from earlier. A bitter, yet sugary sweet flavor that has him groaning low in his throat. The sound reverberates through your chest and has your hips grinding harder against his own.

The fabric of your panties are completely soaked, making a mess on the front of his jeans with each frantic buck of your hips. His fingers begin to trail lower, sneaking under your skirt and grazing over the elastic of your panties. Feeling emboldened, you take his wrist, pressing the heel of palm against your center.

“Oh shit,” he groans, fingers circling up and over your aching core. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart.”

You can only manage a soft whine in response, allowing him to guide your head back down to capture your lips together.

An abrupt knock sounds just as a blood curdling scream erupts from the television. Both noises pull you apart with a sudden start, which has you nearly falling backwards off his lap and onto the floor below. But Eddie keeps a steady grip on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he huffs out a breath of frustration.

“Pizza’s here.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld @scarlet-bitch @thecreelhouse @vamp-bunny @notwantingtoadult @keeksandgigz @avobabe87 @kellsck @definitionwanderlust @ainelantv @bring-it-on-back

[rebelliousstories]

Their S/O Giving Them Small Yet Thoughtful Gifts…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Suggestive Themes, Brief Angst

Word Count: 1,150

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Consider Donating to the Page: Here

Logan Howlett/The Wolverine

* Logan’s love language is acts of service. He doesn’t like to do big and extravagant anything. Of course there are some exceptions, but for the most part he likes keeping things solely for the two of you.

* So you giving him small things is perfect for him. I see him as someone who enjoys wood working in all capacities, especially figurines. He keeps them in the bedroom away from anyone who might see them, but you both know they’re there. Logan’s got a wolverine figurine on his nightstand which I could see as you get it for him, and he shoots you a deadpan look at first, but he treasures it with everything in him.

* I could also see him receiving new flannels, or clothing. Something practical. New colors and patterns would be something that he wouldn’t think of getting normally, but if you see them in town, get them. He’s wearing those specific articles of clothing till they’re thread bare. Let’s be completely honest though, if you bring that man anything, he’s cherishing it. It could be a carefully thought out present, or a rock you found on the way home that reminded you of him.

* Two ways he’ll accept a present that you give him: if you’re around others, he’ll grunt out a thank you, and press a quick kiss to your head before pocketing or stowing it away so no one else can see what a sucker he is for you. Or, his preferred way of receiving gifts, is in the comfort of your bedroom when it’s just the two of you. There, he’ll wrap you in a big hug, and stay there. He’s a man of few words. But in the privacy of your room, he can pepper you with kisses and affection as much as he wants without anyone else judging him for it. Logan still needs to protect his persona after all.

Wade Wilson/Deadpool

* I can completely see Wade as someone who does the absolute most for his S/O. He’s someone who will throw you a party just because. So dealing with someone who doesn’t do the big parties and gifts like him is a bit of a learning curve. But once he gets the hang of it, Wade is treasuring all you give him.

* Anything Hello Kitty specifically, or Sanrio in general, is a-okay n his books. Once he moves out of the one bedroom apartment with Al, he’s setting up a shelf that has all of his collectibles and trinkets that have the characters on them. He goes feral over some blind boxes too. Give him a few, and he’ll tear through them cause that ADHD must be satisfied.

* Wade also really likes gifts you would get from an arcade or skate rink. Like the ones you have to collect tickets to get. He likes nostalgia, alright? Just give him things that remind him of a simpler time, and he is absolute putty. Could totally see him still wanting, receiving, and playing CDs and VHS tapes.

* When you do give him his gift, no matter if you’re in front of people or alone, he’s landing the wettest smack of a kiss on your cheek, following quickly by one on your lips. Just be mindful to hold his hands because they will start to wander to inappropriate places if you let him.

Remy LeBeau/Gambit

* Now, for my little Cajun. He is so appreciative of just the fact that you’re dating him, he doesn’t need gifts. That said, he will love anything you give him. Remy loves collecting things from different countries and states. So if you travel, bring him something small back. He arranges everything in order on a specific set of shelves that he got just to display all the little items.

* This may be stereotypical for him, but the Gambit LOVES fancy card decks. The ones he uses in battle are always ones that are not fancy, but just some sturdy standard cards. But you give this man a fancy deck of cards that have intricate designs and patterns? Ooo Lordy he’s a sucker for that. He gets some little stands for the decks so he can display them proudly next to his travel gifts.

* Unless his friends are prepared for it, no one asks him about the ever growing shelves of trinkets. Most of the time because he will find a way to bring up the newest one anyways regardless of the conversation. It’s not that they don’t like hearing about the new items, it’s just that Remy takes that as an excuse to talk far too long about them and you. Sometimes, if a new person comes over and makes the mistake of asking about the shelves, his friends will all groan, and begin grabbing another drink or food so they aren’t subject to his speech again.

* Remy will always show his appreciation for when you bring home a gift for him. If you’re coming back from your travels and have a gift for him, he’s extra appreciative. He hadn’t seen you in too long, which means he needs to spoil you more. Hugging you close, kissing everywhere he can, general tangled limbs. If you come home with a fancy deck of cards though? Y’all ain’t leaving the bedroom till the next day.

Poly! Logan & Wade

* Oh my goodness… double trouble on opposite ends of the spectrum. Logan doesn’t mind PDA, and for Wade that’s a must. So naturally their reactions are going to be different when they receive their gifts. No matter what, they agree to cherish it as much as they can.

* Giving them gifts together prompts some grumbling on behalf of Logan, and playful competition from Wade. Wade doesn’t mean to belittle whatever you got for Logan but the other man can’t help but get defensive over you and your presents when he does this. It honestly is the one thing that puts him in a foul mood fast.

* If you give them gifts separately, which would probably be the best, they each give their own thanks for their gifts. Even if the gifts go together, it’s just easier to give them separate because of how differently they show appreciation.

* Logan would not be overtly jealous if you give Wade something shinier, newer, or more expensive, but he would deal with it quietly. He would never bring it up to you, but you could see the glances and looks he would throw towards Wade when he got his gifts. Give this man a new piece of jewelry. I see him as a watch man, so giving him a brand new one would definitely keep his own self doubt from creeping up as often. Just be warned, if Wade sees this, he’s going to want a new present. So just give him a Hello Kitty figurine and he’ll be fine.

[nomoneybeetieblog]

the batkids finds a box with shitton of VHS so they plug them in and to their surprise is just a bunch of Christmases,birthdays,graduations, party's,etc that Bruce recorded

the first one is dicks 10 birthday (none of this is chronological or anything I'm making shit up as I want)the camera quality was shit all grainy,it was in the manor and part of the league were there and Donna,Roy,wally,Garth are there with their mentors plus superman and the gordons and there's like this cheesy decoration and theres gifts bags for the kids and ice cream and I'm thinking dick is going to have a mj obsession so all of micheal Jackson's songs are playing on the background and the kids are all trying to do the beat it dance

then there's a shot of Dickies small kid face covered in cake and ice cream and he looks gross,off camera a voice says (Bruce) "you're liking your party lad?" his voice is so soft and young and so dad "yeS! thank you Bruce this is the best party ever!!" and he goes away running to superman,he looks young too, mullet and all as he catches Dickie laughing. the video ends, the next tape rolls

It's Christmas,it seems like Bruce is hiding while he records, the tv is on, "can't touch this" is playing and a young Jason Todd is clumsily trying to do the dance, you can hear Bruce's giggles as he watches the kid, he stops hiding and enters the room, Jason looks at him,his smile wide "look! dad look! I'm doing it!!" he isn't doing it but Bruce claps anyways "good job Jaylad!! you look just like hammer!" Jason squeaks, the video ends.

this time tim is on view,he's in the cave doing his homework on the floor, he looks like he's 13-15 at least all sparred on baggy jeans and a too big shirt,this was from a digital camera very clearly, the quality much better, on a monitor of the batcomputer, Britney spears was singing,he was humming along softly, Bruce made his presence clear Clark In front of him with a cake, singing softly "happy birthday to you....happy birthday to you.... happy birthday dear Timmy,happy birthday to you" Tim looked back a bit shocked before smiling wide,his braces all clear for the camera

next tape was toddler damian bouncing and clapping while watching toy story 3 bruce giggling as he danced, "dami,dami, I love youu" his voice was so incredibly soft "I uv yu" Bruce awed as baby damian talked, all chubby limbs and big green eyes,"Dami papa loves you" bruce keep repeating and he keep getting i love yous back when a new set of footsteps interrupted him "hey sugar" clarks midwester accent break through the quiet ambience "hey you" Bruce focused the camera on him "got anything to say to your baby?" Bruce asked humourous,Clark had a tiny baby strapped to his chest ,Damian squeaked loudly getting Bruce's attention back on him "I'm here baby no need to spit" Clark laughed and the video ended

they watched the black screen for a while, it was heartwarming in a way,dick no longer danced thriller on Halloween with his friends, Jason no longer tried to copy vanilla ice, tim no longer had a fringe or a myspace account and Damian was no longer a baby. Bruce was getting older and older and the only thing left of those days were these videos.

the complication of videos grows bigger and bigger with dukes graduation,Cass first recital, Barbara's wedding, Steph's birthday, and eventually they found two curious videos

one was marked "olly,lexie and brucie 72" and the other "happy together 81", turns out lex Luther not only had a beautiful head of red locks but he also had a complete disco choreography with oliver queen and bruce wayne for their graduation, Bruce had the most adorable crooked teeth and straight nose,he really changed with none of his original teeth and multiple rhinoplasties.

the other one was a short video of Bruce combing his hair, humming softly until he caughts the cameraman, he turns with a smile " if we're late for your fault I'm going to be so pissed" the cameraman laughed warmly, "I just have to get my shoes on, I'm waiting for you,it's been an hour you don't need to comb that much" Clarks voice bombed through the speakers "it's my wedding Clark,of course I have to comb that much","you know I love your hair no matter how it is" Bruce pouted and turned pissed, going to the bathroom "Bruce please, don't get pissed" the video ended.

[skynights2]

Rich and Patty hall- Husband and Wife=Huggy and Kissy update

(spoiler chapter 4 near end)

so far

Chapter 2 confirms Rich has a note with hearts to call patty hall.

Chapter 3 Rich mentions he has a wife, and he is trying to be better for her! So with the in game clue left for us. Small piece each chapter. This points to Rich and patty being husband and wife as a strong Possibility. The only two character who are married in the employee list that we know of from the documents/vhs tapes.. Also noted Rich last name is never revealed and his year date on vhs. So this could mean slow big reveal.

It's never confirmed why Patty was defiant against the company.. But if Rich is the first who goes missing.. Then his wife would most likely get frustrated with no one knowing where Rich went. and we know from chapter 4 vhs they confirm they cover up missing people who worked in poppy playco company.. So patty not gonna get any answers unless she get their attention.. and she did...when they sent her to storage B, where we know Kissy is stored.. As documents state Patty hall has been dealt with...

Though not fully- As even when she becomes Kissy she still helping us the player, breaking the rules against the company that took her husband and also turned her into toy.

I am not sure Rich-huggy is aware of his wife fate... notice in game. both the bigger bodies of Huggy and Kissy have not interacted all game.

Rich statement- he trying to be better for her, his wife who he loves.. I could see this might be the turning point for rich/huggy turning on the prototype.

Also interesting thing in chapter 3 Rich mention he feels like everyone out to get him before he promoted..

From the doey clue, I think he might found huggy and patched him up. As when doey sees kissy. He is shocked and mentions to get the medic. They are also short supply down there.

Though other strong possibility is rich repaired himself with duct tape. As we know he worked in shipping, and what do box need when closed? tape and lots of it.

What could be end goal for Huggy and Kissy fate though in probably the last chapter?

Well from clue it's possible Patty was thinking of adoption, and Rich was aware. As chapter 3 Kissy is shown looking at one the children picture-possible one of the kids she would adopted if not turned into kissy.

And we do have a child, that being Poppy.

Poppy is a child as even in recent vhs tapes she states she misses her dad. When poppy starts to have a breakdown. Kissy concern for poppy over her own fear shows. Showing patty care for the child breaking infront of her. In the newest tapes Rich is shown looking out for his younger employee. and calls him kid. So to me this shows rich and patty might have adopted a child if not what happen to both of them. As in chapter 3 kissy was shown aggressive when we neared the abandons orphanage area.. And she know what they do the children in here.

As kissy stays behind to follow poppy and protect her from the prototype. She shows concern like a mother looking out for her child.

As we see her hang on the cliff ledge after she looses her right arm. choosing to stay behind and go after Poppy.

kinda symbolic now both of them have lost their arm. Kissy right arm, and Huggy left arm.

The only thing left is to See if Rich realize his Wife is also down here with him... Maybe they threaten Rich to behave or they turn his wife like they did him.. Rich did escape to some unknown house.. probably his house.. where he and patty lived.. Trying to go back to her.. but probably realizing his appearance would scare her nor would she recognize him while she was still human at the time.

Would explain Rich anger issue/behavior doing 180 for the company. Better for his wife safety. once they realized. He was patient all those years and showed no mercy in the hour of joy..

I think in the end when they reunite, after learning the truth.. Could maybe get them fixed up by the player, and poppy is adopted by Rich and patty..

[gassydumbjocks]

Its Good To Be A Man

Tyler close the door and throw himself to the sofa, exhausted after a day of work thanking it was finally over. He worked at a pretty good company, but being the only gay guy in his department and having to deal with homophobes and sexist co-workers was sometimes too much for him, so he thought about watching a movie or a tv show maybe to relax and sleep.

He started to look up in his VHS Cassettes' box and soon noticed that strangely, a new one was there, it didn't got any cover or stuff, and just had written "Its good to be a man" as the only title on it, he found it weird, but then supposed perhaps that his dumb jock of a roommie got it and put it with his stuff "I've told him not to touch my things like a million times, when is that brute gotta learn"

He had to admit the curiousity was hitting him, it was probably a home made video recorded by Connor and his gross buddies, but boy... after all, he was gay, and all of Connor's friends were toned ripped jocks from the gym (with a brain of a peanut size, but hot after all)

Thinking "maybe its just their excersizes routines... guess it wouldn't hurt to see" feeling a bit of a lust mood running in his body "ok, just a couple minutes...but i swear, if its just them having a belch off, im burning this" he said.

Putting the tape in the tv player, he clicked to put the video, and all of a sudden, the typical static sound shows, then a simple white screen, making Tyler raise an eyebrow, before what seemed to be a variety show intro plays, a smiling man in a suit which he supposed was the host, along a bunch athletic shirtless men with dumb expressions who followed next to him appeared in screen.

"Good to see ya again my brothers!" The host announces "this is your program where you learn how to be real MEN", as if it was a cue, the stud-bodied-like guys all grunted and beated their chests, like they were gorillas making a chanting "Uh!, Uh!, Uh!" and flexed their arms, making the audience laugh loudly, with those cocky grins Tyler knew so well, he rolled his eyes.

Making the host laugh aswell, he patted one of them in the back "That's what i talk about" he joked "Alright folks, tonight we'll indulge into an intense session of what it means to be a man, these guys here will serve as examples in showing you all stuff boys MUST do to become the alpha macho men they truly are" he adds, then, smirking, he takes a small device from his suit pocket.

"This little thing here made sure to leave them empty headed and obey any manly command given to them, just as it'll make sure to do the same for you, ma boy" he suddenly announces.

"...The hell?" Tyler said, arching his look again as he watched them "is this some bullshit hypnosis crap or?..." he asked

"That's right, dudes! Lets begin" the host shouted. "It's time to show off around what you're made of! We'll do something primal, no pun intented" he joked "We'll now do the first category: BURPING!, so, let's hear those nice bassy burps!" he says, turning to the group of jocks, as he pressed a button of that device.

Immediatly, they started to release loud and deep monsters of burps, at unison, as if they were in trance, still with those dumb expressions, and Tyler could swear he saw how one of them got his eyes crossed with a complete fool face.

Even worse, Tyler felt a strange urge to burp himself too. He tried to resist, but the feeling was overwhelming, he rubbed his gut hoping to calm it down, but he just letted out a loud, embarrassing belch, blushing immediatly

"Wha-BOOOOUUURRP?- Is happening?!" he said between belches, a little ashamed.

"Excellent!" the host cheered. "This is what i call a manly symphony!, but we also know there is another way to do that, right?" He asks the public with a mischevous grin "FARTING is a big part in the bonding among men, so, we just have to, let it rip right?" He asked again, as he pressed that little button.

Some of the guys turned around to show their butts, other simply proceed to lift their legs, but they all did the same, at the command of "letting rip" they instantly started a worthy orchestra of simultaneous farts, each sounding grosser and deepest than the last one

Tyler was grossed out and sick, he wanted it to stop, but as he bend over a bit over to approach the tv, his butt felt the need to drop a massive, and nasty monster of a deep fart, the loudest he've ever letted out, he could feel his butt vibrating at that one, sitting normally again, horrified and trying to cover his butt with his hands.

"This-BOOOOOOOUUUUURRRRRPP!" He belched "Is a nightmare!..."

PPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRTTTT!!!

That last fart seemed to do something on Tyler, he kept one second silent before, turning his head to the tv again, now with a dumb and foolish grin adorning his face "hahaha, dudee, i need to quit the bean dip next timee" he said in a lower, more manly voice.

"Whew! Guys! Ok ok its enough! Hahaha" The always happy host said, as he waved his hand to make the smell go away, as the dumb bunch of men kept blasting bombs out of their butts "Geez, dont anybody here think on turning on a lighter" he said bursting in laughing, making Tyler laugh too at the stupid joke.

"But for now, this is all we got for today's emmision, bros, we're glad that you could come with us in this, stinky, foul and manly lessons that every man needs to apply in his everyday, till the next program! Boys? Would you like to wave goodbay?" he asked with a grin.

The camera showed each of them, now it was sure they all had that same cross-eyed look and dumb smiles, like Tyler did, the staff offered a can of a kind of soda to one of them, which he drank in a single gulp, before removing it from his lips "GOOOD BYEEEEAAAAUUURRRRRP!" A massive belch came out, as he succesfully burp-talked, gaining again the laughs and applause from all the people in the set.

Meanwhile with Tyler, at the same time he also relaxed his muscles, and lifted a leg as he felt some pressure in his lower abdomen, he knew very well what that meant "Bombs away!" he said proudly, before the smelly, big and long fart made its way out of his crack.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTT!!!

"Hahah!" he chuckled "i think i just ruined my undies"

[miiukkaa]

leo's biblically accurate subway room

here are some of my mental notes while workin' on leo's room:

(note that everything subway-lair related drawn/written by me is made with the idea that the family has lived in the lair for at least a year = the spaces are more established and lived in.)

a subway car is BIG. even if there is a lot of room, it's unlikely leo would fill out the entire car = he'd have a more established corner (it's also more likely that the entire family is more comfortable with smaller spaces having come from the sewers = they'd try to recreate that).

leo is messy and loves reading comic books. he'd want more shelf space to neatly and proudly display his comic book collectiosn (as well as any and all awards he'd gotten). some of the collectibles he may have been able to salvage from the old lair while some of it is new.

leo has a small tv with VHS tapes. tv used to be propped on a seat next to the bed but i moved it on top of the arcade machine for max comfort and laziness.

leo's bed is propped half on the sub's seats as well as a wooden blank that sits on cinder blocks. there's very little room under the bed itself. i shoved a couple of boxes underneath for storage.

the right end of the subway is an open walk-in-closet kind of situation. there's a folding screen and a mirror - and of course a collection of clothes (some neatly tucked away while some just thrown about the area). there's a lone polaroid picture pinned on the mirror.

the doors in the back (the ones with an orange-tint) lead to another subway car nex to leo's that he can walk through to access the other side of the station. see my earlier layout for the subway lair to get a better understanding what i mean by this.

i wasn't sure if to add graffiti in his room but that'd probably be on the emptier side of the subway car. he'd definitely have fun spraypainting the space together with mikey. hmm yea, maybe graffiti would be smth that gets added later in the future. (i'm also realizing i forgot to add anything related to skating but yea, imagine there was a skateboard somewhere, huh).

all in all, a messy guy except for when it comes to his collectibles

raph's room

mikey's room

[newblette0-o]

RobCo Fun Mini Pack

Here is my first part of my Hubris Comics 'n Toys project. I swear it's good enough to share (Fingers crossed on alllllllllllll of my digits).

I wanted there to be an option for the box the Holotape would come in if you bought it at a store. I decided to attempt to make a VHS style case and I hope they send the right vibe. WHEN I stop being a big baby and post more of my Hubris stuff I'm hoping the displays and cases will make a lot more sense; for now they are cool items and the magazine/comic one will work with the other magazines I've released.

SPEAKING OF (other magazines) I once again need to thank @surely-sims for allowing me to use their mesh (because consistency is key) and for being so helpful and inspiring. It really means a lot to feel welcomed in this space.

Also huge thanks to the simlish font creators, and Fallout's artists for making this possible.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO: (the download)

http://simfileshare.net/folder/239012/

Please let me know if something isn't working, needs some work (if I can fix it), or really anything (I'm nice, just a bit of a spaz). Stay tuned for more Fallout Themed CC from your local Creature

[oonajaeadira]

When I saw my order came in from Lionsgate, I was like, yay! My Freaky Tales dvd is here! And then I was like, why is this box so big. And then I was like, how many miles of bubblewrap dies ine dvd need?

And then I saw the packaging and SQUEALED. It's in VHS box. With video store stickers you can apply. I'm over the fkn moon.

[lonely-cowboy]

future of us

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: after finding a box of home videos, you're overwhelmed with thoughts of the future. only connor can ease your worries.

word count: 2k

warnings: panic attack sorta, good ol' daddy issues, a 6yo (and a however old you are)yo having an existential crisis about death, i actually don't know what this is i just felt like writing it, rushed ending

author's note: yes i was complaining about my angsty gameplay in my last post and yes i am posting angst after saying i needed more fluff to feel happy. what about it. i like the angst, it makes me feel smth.

masterlist ⟡ requests

The television flickered in the dim living room, the shadows shifting like otherworldly creatures. The heavy rain pounded against the windows combined with the quiet whistle of the winds. You would think that with such advanced technology nowadays the intense weather wouldn’t affect the power. Apparently, that hadn’t been a priority during this era of technological breakthroughs. But you didn’t mind. The flickering screen and hissing static were comforting, reminding you of the days Hank still had his old-fashioned television.

In the peaceful hours of the early morning (or late night depending on who you asked), you sat huddled on the couch with your eyes glued to the television. Wearing one of Hank’s old sweatshirts that was far too long for you, you hugged your knees tightly. 

You watched the screen as a little girl sat bashfully at the head of a long dining table, kicking her feet giddily as a birthday cake with six blazing candles was placed in front of her. She was surrounded by loved ones who looked at her fondly, singing in unison with enthusiastic, booming voices. One voice– the cameraman's– overpowered them all, his voice uncharacteristically jaunty and cheerful. As the singing reached its end and the little girl blew out her candles with a big breath (and a lot of spit), the cameraman squished himself into the frame with a wide grin.

And there was Hank Anderson. A younger, much happier Hank, but Hank nonetheless. He grinned at the camera, calling the little girl’s attention. They both smiled brightly into the camera, ignoring that it was a video and not a picture. Hank and his goddaughter. Hank and you.

You were honestly surprised when you found the box of old VHS tapes. Yes, VHS tapes. No, you weren’t that old, far from it actually. Hank was just always old-fashioned; he never had a knack for technology. So any videos from your childhood were found on VHS tapes that Hank had kept for all these years.

You found them when you were organizing his garage. The entire day, you had been cleaning around his house with Connor’s help because his drunk ass could never do it. You hoped that maybe by giving him a clean environment he might be able to clean up his act. You weren’t too sure about that, but the thought was there.

When you found the tapes, it was already well into the night. Hank had passed out hours ago, and you released Connor to recharge not long ago. That’s when you decided you were deserving of a much-needed break, dragging the hefty box of VHS tapes into the living room for your viewing pleasure.

Only you hadn’t realized the experience would be the exact opposite of pleasurable. The more videos you watched, the more your misery grew.

You couldn’t exactly explain why you were so upset. All you knew was that your chest was heavy with dread, your eyes forlorn as you watched video after video.

You were so distracted by the video of your sixth birthday (Hank was now interrogating you about the differences between being five and six, ever the detective) that you hadn’t heard Connor’s light footfalls. Though you probably wouldn’t have heard them anyway. Androids were scarily sneaky like that. You didn’t realize Connor was even in the room until he was standing right beside you, his figure nothing but a shadow in your peripheral vision. You had almost forgotten he was here, simply resting (or whatever it was androids did) in Hank’s spare room.

Your attention snapped to him, fumbling for the remote to pause the video. With only the light of the television to guide you, you struggled to find the pause button. By the time you finally found it, your cheeks were unbearably warm with embarrassment. 

Watching videos of your childhood self to remember the good times with Hank before he practically cut you off completely, dried tear stains on your cheeks and fresh tears welling in your eyes? Pathetic.  

With your face buried in the baggy sleeves of Hank’s sweatshirt, you tried to casually wipe away your tears, but you knew it was too late. Connor had already seen them. And even if he hadn’t seen them, you were sure he could guess by the shaky tone of your voice.

“Hi, Connor,” you greeted weakly.

Connor was silent for a moment as his eyes trailed over your figure, surely analyzing you. His LED circled yellow for a long time. Even when he sat down beside you, it continued to show yellow.

“Are you alright?” Connor asked softly, reaching a hand forward to rest on your knee and giving it a loving squeeze.

You were so surprised that he didn’t offer some kind of thorough analysis of your current mental state that a guttural laugh escaped your lips. The sound confused even Connor, his eyebrows furrowing at your impromptu reaction. You covered your mouth sheepishly, flashing Connor a look that said “I’m-sorry-I-don’t-know-what-that-was-either-kindly-ignore-that.”

Connor was silent again as he considered what to say. His eyes flitted to the television screen that had paused on a frame of you shoving your face into the camera with a toothy smile. You were missing two of your bottom teeth.

“Is that you?” Connor inquired. He was only being polite. You both knew that with a simple facial scan he had already determined that it was, in fact, you.

“Yeah,” you answered lamely. “My sixth birthday.”

Connor’s hand that was resting on your knee moved to your hand, slowly pulling the remote out of your grip. He unpaused the video and sat stiffly, his eyes darting from you to the screen like he didn’t know which to watch. The television showed you as you flaunted your missing teeth before pulling back to answer another one of Hank’s questions.

“Alright, last question, kiddo,” Hank said off-screen, his tone teasingly serious. “We gotta hear the final verdict… d’you like being six?”

Your little self squinted her eyes in consideration, lips pursed into an extreme pout. For added effect, you put a finger to your chin and tapped it thoughtfully.

“Hmm…,” you thought loudly. “No!”

“No?” Hank repeated with a hearty laugh. “Why not?”

“I don’t wanna get old,” you admitted innocently as if it was the easiest answer in the world. “Getting old means I’ll die.”

You snatched the remote from Connor’s hand and hurriedly paused the video again. All of a sudden, your breaths were coming out in sharp pants as your body was filled to the brim with an inexplicable panic. You needed a distraction, you didn’t want to think about any of this. 

Connor was calling your name calmly, his voice a steady, grounding force. Your wide eyes snapped to meet his, hands moving to clutch both of his. As you latched onto his warm gaze, you felt an odd imbalance. You couldn’t tell if you were comforted or stressed by his presence.

“How can I help you?” Connor murmured, allowing you to grip his hands as tightly as possible.

“I don’t know… I don’t know,” you stammered. “I’m scared, Connor.”

“What are you scared of?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Okay… okay,” Connor whispered soothingly.

Freeing one of his hands from your grasp, Connor’s hand snaked to the back of your head and pulled you forward until your forehead was resting against his lips. He pressed light kisses against your skin, murmuring comforting words as tears started to silently spill from the corners of your eyes. You collapsed forward until your face was buried in the crook of Connor’s neck. His lips moved to your head, kissing along the top of your head.

Why were you crying? Why were you crying? Why were you crying?

You didn’t understand why you were so overwhelmed, you just knew that you were. You had felt it so suddenly that there hadn’t been time to ask why. 

“Are you scared of… losing Hank?” Connor questioned.

No, that wasn’t it. Well, yes, you were. But that wasn’t the cause of your unexpected anxiousness.

“Are you scared of… dying?”

Yes. Yes, that was it. That was it. Sort of, at least.

Too broken to speak, you simply nodded against Connor’s body. 

“Can you tell me what scares you about it?”

Could you? You thought about it, blinking furiously to slow the tears. Why were you scared? Sure, death was scary in general, but there was something else. There had to be something else because your heart was still pounding furiously.

“I… don’t know,” you croaked.

“Okay,” Connor said patiently. “That’s alright. You don’t need to know.”

With his hands still on you, Connor carefully pulled away from you to meet your gaze. The corners of his lips were raised in a loving smile as he studied you, his thumb absentmindedly running along your knuckles.

“I want you to know that you’re safe with me,” he continued.

You matched Connor’s smile hesitantly, feeling your heartbeat slow to a resting state. Your attention was drawn to Connor’s spiraling LED as it returned to its usual blue.

That was it.

Your smile vanished quicker than it appeared. Your eyes were now fixated on the LED at Connor’s temple, a constant reminder that he was an android. And you were only human.

“I’m going to lose you,” you whispered hoarsely.

A puzzled look crossed Connor’s features, the crease between his brows returning. His LED blinked yellow again as he realized you were still in distress. 

“You won’t lose me,” Connor promised, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can’t lose me.”

“That’s the problem, Connor,” you sniffled. “Someday, I’ll die. And you’ll keep living.”

The tension in Connor’s face eased as he realized the root of your sadness, though he didn’t look at ease himself. His LED quickly turned to a solid red. He looked so… sad. As if it hadn’t occurred to him until now the inevitable future of the two of you. 

The look on his face made you want to apologize profusely. You were sorry for ever putting that thought in his head. But you didn’t have the words to speak. You were frozen, just as he was.

Connor broke your suspended state by inhaling slowly, nodding his head as he thought to himself. You noticed that his grip on your hand was tighter as if he was afraid to let go. His other hand had moved to rest on your upper arm, rubbing it soothingly. It seemed to be a calming gesture for both you and him.

“Maybe that is how it will be,” Connor muttered, his eyes finding yours again. “Or maybe there’s another way we don’t know of. But that… that’s far in the future. That’s not something we need to concern ourselves with right now. Right now… is right now.”

Your tears had stopped falling long ago once there were no more left to cry. You resorted to chewing your lip worriedly, ignoring the bead of blood that infested your tastebuds. Connor’s hand moved to caress your jaw, running a thumb across your lips to stop you from hurting yourself. 

“Right now… I’m holding you. On this couch. Because I care about you,” Connor continued, though his voice was still slightly frazzled. “And that’s all we need to worry about.”

Either way, his words did do something to calm you. You nodded along as he spoke, leaning into the warmth of his smooth palm. Your fear wasn’t gone, not completely anyway. But it was certainly less than it was before. 

You moved quickly into Connor’s arms, pushing him back so that he was lying on the couch. Your head curled against his chest, holding the front of his shirt tightly. You never wanted him to leave. His arms naturally fell around you and lightly rubbed your back.

It wasn’t necessary for Connor to breathe, but you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. You knew he was doing it for your sake. You followed the pattern of his breathing until you finally felt a sense of peace for the first time that night.

“Will you keep holding me like this?” you mumbled.

“I’ll hold you like this, right now and forever.” 

[ghosting-bats]

having religious trauma from the most boring of churches is such a unique experience. stained glass and high ceilings dont mean anything. but dingy basements and hotel bibles mean everything. my religious trauma (and i would assume a lot of others) isnt as pure as what is shown. its gross basements, hand-me-down bibles, wooden chairs that look like theyre at least 50 years old, vhs tapes and big box tvs, ugly carpet, and "god bless you" instead of i love you.

[lanalosty0uu]

FRI(END)S

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: lgbtq+, wlw content

summary: but friends don’t say words that make friends feel more—so let’s put the end in friends, just for now?

general master list

inspired by the song:

══════════════════════

The bell above the door jingled, and Steve turned toward it, his face lighting up when he saw you walk into Family Video. “Well, look who finally decided to visit,” he said, arms wide like he was welcoming royalty. “About time you showed up.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him toward the counter, already used to his dramatics. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get too excited, Harrington. I’m just here to see if this place is as lame as you described.”

“It’s not lame!” Steve protested, his voice jumping an octave, and you raised your eyebrows in challenge.

“Oh, really? Because you spent a good ten minutes complaining about how this job is ‘crushing your soul.’” You made exaggerated air quotes, and Steve’s face twisted in a mix of offense and embarrassment.

“Okay, well—” he started, but you were already tuning him out, your eyes scanning the shelves stacked with VHS tapes and the faded movie posters plastered on the walls. Despite what Steve said, the place had its charm — a little cluttered, a little outdated, but cozy. It smelled like popcorn and plastic, and you kind of liked it.

“Welcome to our humble establishment,” a new voice cut in, smooth and sarcastic. You turned, and your gaze landed on the girl leaning against the counter, arms crossed and a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. She had short, choppy blonde-brown hair, big expressive eyes, and a sharpness in her grin that told you she was about to say something Steve wouldn’t appreciate. “Don’t let Steve fool you — I’m the one keeping this place running.”

“Excuse you—” Steve sputtered behind you, his face already going red.

But the girl just held up a hand, silencing him without even looking his way. Her eyes stayed on you, curious and playful. “And you are…?” she prompted, one eyebrow arched.

You smiled despite yourself. “Y/N. I work at the record shop down the street.”

At that, her face lit up with recognition. “Ah,” she said, nodding thoughtfully. “The cool place.”

“Exactly,” you teased, and she grinned wider.

“I’m Robin,” she said, and there was something dramatic in the way she extended her hand toward you — like this was some kind of formal meeting. You played along, taking her hand and shaking it with mock seriousness.

“Pleasure to meet the true backbone of Family Video,” you said, shooting a pointed look at Steve.

Robin snorted. “Finally! Someone gets it.”

“I am standing right here,” Steve said, throwing his arms up.

“Congratulations,” you and Robin said in unison, and you both cracked up while Steve muttered something under his breath.

“I like you already,” Robin said, still grinning. “I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

And you had no idea just how right she was.

══════════════════════

After that first meeting, Family Video became part of your routine — not that you’d admit it out loud. At first, you told yourself you were just stopping by for Steve. You’d known him for years, after all, and as much as you loved to roast him, you did have a soft spot for the guy. Besides, the record shop where you worked was just down the street, and Family Video made for an easy detour when you were on break.

But it didn’t take long before you realized that Steve wasn’t the only reason you kept coming back.

It was Robin.

Robin Buckley was a whirlwind — sharp and quick-witted, with a humor that matched yours so perfectly it felt almost suspicious. She had this way of making even the slowest, most boring days entertaining, and when the two of you got going, it was game over for Steve.

One afternoon, you were leaning against the counter, idly flipping through one of the new release boxes while Robin reorganized the shelves. Steve was across the store, attempting to charm a customer with what you’d come to recognize as his “ladykiller” smile. Robin nudged you with her elbow, drawing your attention.

“Okay, watch this,” she whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief. “He’s gonna do the hair flip. Just wait for it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “The hair flip?”

“Oh, you’ll know it when you see it,” Robin assured you.

And sure enough, just as the customer giggled at something Steve said, he did it — the dramatic, slow-motion toss of his perfectly styled hair, like he was starring in his own personal shampoo commercial.

Your hand shot up to cover your mouth as you struggled not to burst out laughing. “Oh my god,” you whispered, leaning closer to Robin. “Does he… does he practice that in the mirror?”

“Definitely,” Robin said, nodding sagely. “I’ve caught him.”

That did it — you lost it, dissolving into laughter so hard you had to clutch the counter to stay upright. Robin was right there with you, giggling into her sleeve as you both tried — and failed — to keep it together.

“I can hear you,” Steve called over his shoulder, his voice half-exasperated, half-pouting.

“We know!” you called back, still giggling.

Steve shot you both a glare before turning back to his customer, but even from across the room, you could see the faint flush creeping up his neck.

Robin wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, her laughter finally dying down. “You know, I think you might be my new favorite person.”

Your heart skipped — just a little — at that. But you kept your cool, shooting her a playful grin. “Well, I do aim to impress.”

“Oh, you’re killing it,” she teased, bumping her shoulder against yours. “A-plus performance.”

And the thing was — you believed her.

Because when Robin looked at you like that, her eyes bright and her smile easy, you felt like maybe you really were something special.

══════════════════════

It wasn’t long before the teasing turned into something else — something that felt a little more dangerous.

At first, it was all harmless fun. You and Robin had fallen into an easy rhythm — hanging out at Family Video whenever you had a break from the record shop, ganging up on Steve at every opportunity, and finding more and more excuses to linger when the store was quiet. You’d trade inside jokes and side-eye glances and laugh way too loud at things Steve insisted weren’t even that funny.

But then there were moments like this one — moments where the laughter slowed down and the space between you felt… different. Charged.

It was a slow evening at Family Video, and you and Robin were sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the counter, helping restock shelves because Steve had declared it “too boring” and vanished into the back room. A half-empty box of VHS tapes sat between you, but neither of you seemed particularly focused on the task.

“Okay,” Robin said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “Serious question.”

You glanced up from the tape in your hands, intrigued. “Hit me.”

“If you had to pick,” she began, leaning forward with an exaggerated air of importance, “which movie character would you run away with? And I mean full-on, drop-everything, Bonnie and Clyde-style elopement.”

You grinned, pretending to think. “Hmm. Probably Ferris Bueller.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Absolutely. He’s got style, he’s smart, and the guy knows how to have a good time.” You shrugged. “Plus, I’d never be bored.”

Robin nodded thoughtfully, as if she were seriously considering this. “Solid choice. I respect it.”

“Okay, your turn,” you said, shifting so you were facing her more directly. “Who’s your runaway partner?”

“Oh, easy,” Robin said without hesitation. “Lena Lamont from Singin' in the Rain.”

You blinked. “Wait. The one with the really annoying voice?”

“Exactly.” Robin’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

You stared at her in confusion. “But… why?”

Robin grinned, wide and unapologetic. “I like a challenge.”

That was it — you lost it. You burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the mostly empty store. Robin watched you with that same satisfied smirk, clearly pleased with herself.

“You’re insane,” you managed between giggles, wiping at your eyes.

“You love it,” she teased, bumping her shoulder against yours.

And maybe you did.

The laughter faded, but your shoulder stayed pressed against hers. Neither of you moved away, and for a second, the quiet that settled around you wasn’t awkward — it was warm. Close.

Robin’s gaze flicked toward you, her smile softer now. “Okay, but seriously,” she said, her voice quieter than before. “You’d make a pretty good Bonnie, you know. I could totally see you robbing banks and causing chaos.”

You tilted your head, playing along even though your heart was suddenly pounding a little too fast. “Yeah? And who’d be my Clyde?”

Robin hesitated just long enough for your breath to catch. Then she grinned. “Steve, obviously.”

You groaned. “You just ruined the fantasy.”

“Hey, you asked,” she teased, but her eyes stayed on you, and there was something there — something you couldn’t quite name but didn’t want to look away from.

And when her hand brushed against yours as you reached for the same tape, neither of you pulled back.

══════════════════════

Robin knew she was in trouble the night you showed up at Family Video after a bad day.

The bell above the door jingled, and Robin looked up from the counter. The second she saw your face — the slump of your shoulders, the tired drag of your feet — she knew something was wrong. You didn’t even bother with a greeting, just made a beeline for the chair behind the counter and dropped into it with a dramatic groan.

“Rough shift?” Robin asked, her voice soft but playful as she watched you melt into the seat.

“You have no idea,” you said, dragging your hands down your face. “Some guy spent thirty minutes... thirty minutes, Robin! Arguing with me about why The Smiths are superior to The Cure, and I think I actually felt my soul leave my body.”

Robin snorted, biting back a laugh. “You want me to fight him? I’ll fight him.”

“Tempting,” you said, shooting her a weak smile. “But I think I just need some bad movies and good company.”

Robin’s heart did an actual somersault in her chest, and she prayed you couldn’t hear it over the hum of the lights. “Well, you’re in luck,” she said, gesturing grandly around the store. “We specialize in both.”

That’s when you smiled at her — really smiled — and Robin was done for.

It wasn’t just the smile itself, though that was enough to make her knees weak. It was the way your eyes softened when they met hers, the way your face lit up like she was the one good thing in your day. It was that dangerous, reckless feeling she got every time you looked at her like that — the one that made her want to reach out, close the space between you, do something about the way she felt.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Because what if she was wrong?

What if this was all just a game to you — the teasing, the flirting, the way you always found reasons to touch her hand or lean in close? What if it didn’t mean what she wanted it to mean?

So Robin swallowed it down, the way she always did, and smiled back. Even as her heart ached.

The line between friendship and something more kept getting blurrier, and Robin didn’t know how much longer she could pretend she wasn’t falling for you.

It was late one night when it almost broke her. The store was empty, and the two of you were camped out in the horror section, reorganizing shelves because Steve had messed them up in his rush to leave early. Again.

“I swear to God, if I see one more copy of ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ in the wrong spot…” Robin grumbled, shoving a tape into its rightful place.

“Justice for Freddy,” you said solemnly, handing her another tape.

Robin snorted. “You’re the only person I know who would call Freddy Krueger misunderstood.”

“He had dreams, Robin. Big ones.”

You grinned at her, and Robin felt the air shift — the way it always did when you smiled at her like that. It made her dizzy, the way you could turn her entire world upside down without even realizing it.

But then the smile faded, and you let out a quiet sigh, your fingers trailing over the spine of a tape without really looking at it.

“You ever feel like some things are just… stuck in the ‘almost’ category?” you asked, your voice soft, like you weren’t sure you wanted her to hear.

Robin froze. Her heart lurched painfully in her chest. “What do you mean?” she asked, keeping her voice as casual as she could — even though her throat had gone dry.

You shrugged, still not meeting her eyes. “Like… when you almost say something but don’t. Or when something almost happens, but it never does.”

Robin felt like the air had been knocked out of her.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I get that.”

You finally looked at her then, and the way your eyes softened made Robin’s pulse race. It felt like you were asking her something without saying a word — something Robin was so scared to answer, because what if she answered wrong?

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” you said, your voice gentle but heavy.

Robin’s chest ached.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “It really does.”

══════════════════════

After that night, things between you and Robin changed

Or maybe they didn’t, and Robin was just way more aware of it than before.

The next time you showed up at Family Video, it was the same as always, you sauntered in like you owned the place, grinning when you spotted Robin behind the counter. “Guess who brought snacks,” you sing-songed, holding up a bag of chips and a couple of sodas.

Robin’s heart did that stupid fluttering thing again. She glanced around the empty store, trying to play it cool. “Well, well,” she said, smirking. “We don’t deserve you.”

“Definitely not,” you teased, hopping up onto the counter like it was the most natural thing in the world. “But lucky for you, I’m feeling generous.”

“Hey!” Steve’s voice cut in from the back room. “No sitting on the counter! We’re running a respectable business here!”

You cupped your hands around your mouth. “Snitches get stitches, Harrington!”

Robin burst out laughing as Steve muttered something unintelligible from the back, and the sound of your laughter mixed with hers was enough to make her feel lightheaded. It was so easy with you... even when it made her heart ache.

But that ache hadn’t gone away since that night in the horror section, since you’d looked at her like you were waiting for something. Since you’d talked about things being stuck in the “almost” category and made Robin wonder, for the first time, if maybe… maybe you weren’t just playing around.

Still, she couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk losing you.

So she swallowed it down, like always.

“You gonna share those snacks or just make me suffer?” Robin asked, leaning her hip against the counter.

“You have to earn them,” you said with a mock-serious look. “What’s your stance on the great Smiths vs. The Cure debate?”

“Oh, easy,” Robin said. “The Cure, obviously.”

Your face lit up. “Knew I liked you for a reason.”

Robin felt the words hit her square in the chest. And god, if you kept looking at her like that, she wasn’t going to survive this.

It wasn’t just the flirting — though the flirting was getting harder to brush off. It was the way you remembered little things about her, like how she liked her coffee and which records she’d been meaning to buy from your shop. It was the way your hand always found her wrist when you laughed too hard, like you needed to steady yourself.

And it was the way you looked at her sometimes — like you were waiting for her to do something.

But Robin was too scared to find out if she was imagining it.

So when you showed up at Family Video one night, an hour before closing, with a mischievous glint in your eye, Robin didn’t think too much of it.

“Okay, Buckley,” you said, hopping onto the counter like always. “We’re playing a game.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “A game?”

“Yup.” You popped the ‘p’ and grinned. “It’s called Truth or Dare.”

Robin’s heart started racing immediately. “That sounds dangerous.”

“Only if you’re a coward,” you teased. “So. Truth or dare?”

Robin narrowed her eyes at you. “Truth.”

You tapped your chin, pretending to think. “Okay. If you could kiss anyone in Hawkins, who would it be?”

Robin’s brain short-circuited.

She tried to play it off with a snort. “What are we, twelve?”

“You picked truth, Buckley. Answer the question.”

Her mouth went dry. “Uh…”

“C’mon,” you said, eyes twinkling. “No one?”

Robin’s mind supplied only one name — yours — and she was so close to saying it. But then the fear crept in again, and she chickened out.

“I don’t know,” she said, waving a hand. “No one really comes to mind.”

For just a second, your face fell. It was quick — so quick that Robin almost convinced herself she’d imagined it — but it was there. And god, did it hurt.

“Lame,” you teased, but your voice wasn’t as light as before. “Fine. Your turn.”

“Truth or dare?” Robin asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Dare,” you said without hesitation.

Robin forced a smirk. “I dare you to put all the horror movies back in alphabetical order. Steve messed them up again.”

You groaned. “You’re the worst.”

But Robin was already watching you walk away, and the ache in her chest felt heavier than ever.

It all came to a head one night when you showed up at Family Video after your shift at the record store, looking more exhausted than Robin had ever seen you.

“Bad day?” she asked softly, and you nodded, dropping into the chair behind the counter without a word.

For a while, there was just silence. Robin didn’t push — she knew you’d talk when you were ready.

“I just…” you finally said, your voice quiet. “I hate feeling like this. Stuck, you know?”

Robin’s heart did that awful, hopeful lurch again. “Stuck how?”

You shrugged, not looking at her. “Like… like I’m waiting for something that’s never gonna happen. Or like… maybe I’m just too scared to do something about it.”

Robin swallowed hard. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I get that.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The air between you was thick, heavy with things unsaid. Robin’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure you could hear it.

And then you looked at her, and whatever you were feeling, it was written all over your face.

“Robin,” you said softly, your voice almost breaking.

And just like that, Robin couldn’t take it anymore.

“Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me what you’re waiting for.”

But you didn’t. Not yet.

You just looked at her, and for the first time, Robin thought:

maybe you were just as scared as she was.