#Winter has such a “do not go gentle” vibe to me

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Ailess Whumptober 23 - Alt Self-Defense

Encore 5/5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Last part ! Let’s hear our pianist play for real this time.

Tw: major character death, implied death, bad things happening to hands, gun wound, death threats

***

The count joined his prisoner and his guards. Without adding a word, the two men dragged the young man into the castle, then before the piano. The rest of the servants were there, too, huddled up together. All their eyes were on the pianist as he sat before the instrument, and strangely enough, that made him feel better. He knew now that the audience was on his side. His stomach still sank, though, when he noticed the open coffin at his feet, waiting.

The count opened a drawer, pulled out a pistol. Then, very calmly, he settled himself on the sofa, looking at the ceiling, his hands and his weapon on his stomach.

“Play.”

F, answered the piano. F, F, F. One lonely note, repeated with an identical rhythm. The hand of the count clenched in a fist around the pistol. He opened his eyes and glared at his prisoner. The pianist delicately put his bandaged hand on the keys to add a chord. The same chord. For several bars. But as the count let out a growl of animal fury, the young man leaned over the instrument and his seven fingers flew all of a sudden. Some of the audience members started. The melody became insanely fast and aggressive, flowing over the room. It was a cry of rage. The fingers jumped from octave to octave as if it were nothing. Playing with crossed hands didn’t seem to disturb the pianist at all. He smiled grimly, lost in the wrath of his music.

Then, behind his back, he heard a strange noise. Something like a sigh, maybe. No, it was too loud. Someone was gasping behind him. It had to be one of the guards. Gritting his teeth, he threw a glance at the count. No need to push the pedal to play louder. He had noticed. They’d all noticed.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” mumbled the guard, disturbing the piece even more and so dooming himself further, “I could not – I was surprised - it was beautiful -”

The count aimed at him. The count shoot. The man fell. The pianist closed his eyes. His fingers froze on the keyboard. The rest of the servants clenched their fists.

“ Nobody moves”, said the master of the house quietly. “Sir, I believe you were in the middle of something. Would you start again from the beginning ?”

“I-I would,” stuttered the pianist, “but I believe the A4 is slightly off-key.”

“Is it now ?”

“ Surely a man with a hearing as keen as yours must have heard it. It’s very slight, but it’s here all the same; listen.”

He played the accused note with emphasis.

“I’d need a tuning hammer.”

“Nonsense. This A is perfectly in tune. Write another chord.”

“I can’t. This is what works best. Would you look at the music sheet?”

The count glared at him.

“I’d be honored for you to read my work,” softly said the young man. “I know how important it is that everything has to be perfect.”

“This is an adaptation, everything is far from being perfect. It’s not even the best one. I hear a pale imitation, a mockery of the real thing.”

“Come and tell me what I’ve been doing wrong.”

The count hesitated, but reluctantly got up and came closer. He looked at the music sheet, and with a disdainful hand, began to play the first bars. One finger. Four fingers of the right hand. Only at the seventh bar he used the left hand.

Only then, the pianist closed the key lid as hard as he could.

The right hand jerked away. The left didn’t. There was a sickening crunch as his host howled in pain, but the young man kept the fall-board closed, leaning on it with all his weight, and only relented when the bones stopped breaking. The lid opened at once, revealing dismantled fingers and blood stains that made his stomach sank – he never liked when an instrument was damaged.

An elbow flew near his face but he could dodge it. He’d hoped that the count would be polite enough to faint so he could escape, but it seemed like the older man wouldn’t surrender without a fight. He was still standing, his face livid and grim with pain.

“You will lie in that coffin,” he groaned. “And before nailing you in, I will break every bone in your body. Seize him !”

He had snapped these last words at the guard who remained on his feet, but the servant hesitated. Stepping back, the pianist gave him a pleading look, but he refused to look at him. So slowly, the count turned toward his pistol, his right hand twitching in anticipation. There were so much people in the room who could have halted him, but no one moved. The young man’s heart stopped. He knew for sure that the count would go to the weapon and kill him before someone dared to move a finger. No miracle was going to happen.

He looked away. The metronome was still by the piano, the rod leaning on the right. He took it and...tried.

Now, there are only two options when a man out of his mind with despair tries to strike with all his strength: either it will reveal itself to be very weak, either terrifically, inhumanly strong. If the pianist had tried to hit the count the first night of his arrival, he would have barely brushed his skin. Trying the same thing the day before would have been fruitless, too. But he was not the man from yesterday. Not after the coffin. Not after Winter. Not after seeing a man being shot.

The rod pierced the count’s throat like a sword through hot butter.

The gurgling sound was enough; the pianist didn’t wish to learn more about it. He turned his back immediately, only hearing his captor falling to the ground.

That sound seemed to break a spell. At once, the servants came back to life. Many rushed toward the wounded guard, who was still breathing. None went to the count. Absentmindedly, the pianist went back to the piano to carefully wipe the keys out with his sleeve. Only after he joined the little group who circled the man. Leaning over, he gently asked him:

“Do you want me to play again ?”

The guard had a weak smile.

“Please do, until the end.”

*

Back to Whump/Horror Masterlist.

#ailesswhumptober 2023 #ailesswhumptober2023 #whumptober #whump #whump community #defiant whumpee #horror #gothic horror #psychological horror #sadistic whumper #reluctant whumper #and we’re done ! #phew now I can actually go back to write September prompts in September #Winter has such a “do not go gentle” vibe to me #maybe bullying a 6-foot-tall ambidextrous virtuoso wasn’t the brightest idea in retrospect #not a fan of mcd usually but the metronome had to be used #encore #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #creative writing #writerscommunity #writing snippet #writing drabble #writing dialogue #my writing

[dumplingsfordays]

Reading 30 Strales and omg Blade smelling like citrus sounds amazing. I've been playing for about 3 weeks and after fulling catching up on the trailblazer quests I was like dang blade kills people a lot right, he probably smells like blood 24/7 that's so gross. All this to say... reject logic, I agree that blade smells like citrus. Do you have thoughts on what any of the others would smell like?

what the hsr men smell like

ft. blade, gepard, jing yuan, dan heng, luocha, and welt

cw!: mentions of blood, no pronouns for reader mentioned, implied relationship, cuddling, swearing, super fluffy :)

note - thank you so much for reaching out to me omg 🥺 i reject logic too so that's how the whole citrus thing came to be ajsjdk. also i know absolutely nothing about colognes/fragrances so i'm sorry if i mess some of these up ;-; hope you're having a great day/night though pookie <3

and as always, thank you for reading :)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

blade

~ as mentioned above, def smells like citrus and bergamot.

~ sometimes you can catch a little metallic-y whiff of (cough cough) def not blood (cough cough), but it never lasts for long - when he hugs you, the smell of oranges invades your senses like a light summer breeze~

~ and don't get me started on how obsessed he is w this scent. if he stays somewhere for even 1-2 days, you know he's bringing along his 3 freakin citrus-scented candles!!

~ please run your fingers thru his hair when you're hanging out or cuddling. please. he will melt from headpats and your fingers will smell like his shampoo for the rest of the day, and since you love the scent of gentle lime, why not?

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

gepard

~ omg this man!! he's totally giving cashmere + hot cocoa for some reason??? he doesn't really use cologne/fragrances and prefers his natural scent, but does use cashmere and vanilla body wash + shampoo.

~ like sure, after a busy day at work or training he'll kinda smell like sweat but will immediately take a shower when he gets home. he hates being sweaty and thinks it's icky if he does for too long-

~ and when you snuggle up to him for cuddle time on a day off, you just wanna stay there forever bc his scent envelops you like a blanket on freezing winter nights <3

~ overall very comforting and warm, just like Gepard himself!! (cries in human heater vibes)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

jing yuan

~ musk + cinnamon + a little bit of spice, and def uses cologne.

~ actually wants to smell nice and puts in the effort!! changes his sheets, washes his clothes, showers every day (but washes his hair every 3 days or so bc haircare)

~ speaking of haircare, this man's big on it. most of his haircare products smell like the aforementioned musk and cinnamon, but he uses this one cream that smells like cloves and you freakin adore it. sometimes you borrow it so that whenever you're going out and he's busy with his big boy general duties, it feels like he's with u <3

~ and ughhhh his bedroom smells like him so whenever you guys have le cuddle time you fall asleep almost immediately. ofc he eventually does too (bc he loves how u smell too pookie, don't tell him i said that though he would kill me aksjskd) and you're so warm and soft and how could he not fall asleep??

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

dan heng

~ very ocean-y (salty?), small hints of eucalyptus and cypress as well. when he uses cologne he uses very, very little, but he actually has 2 separate colognes, one for the ocean-y cypress, and the other for the eucalyptus

~ i feel like this is kinda a bold statement but he uses bath bombs. like he gets a bath bomb that smells like mint, gets in the bathtub w it, and glides his thumbs over its surface bc he likes the texture-

~ he might not be the cleanest man in the universe, but he sure does smell like it!! something about eucalyptus and cypress and mint and a hint of ocean breeze is chillingly refreshing and tbh you kinda dig it :D

~ mornings w dan heng. omfg they are ethereal bc he literally smells angelic??? like a gentle freshness yk and the pillows smell like him too so lazy mornings are def a thing that you guys love sharing <3

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

luocha

~ oooo he's kinda a wild card imo, but personally, i think that he smells like jasmine + honey (not just bc of his idle + technique!! pinky promise)

~ he lowkey smells a little like freshly-cut grass, very light n refreshing. however, jasmine takes center stage, and if you really bury your face in his long-ass hair, you can catch a whiff of chamomile :))

~ super big on herbal teas and honey as well - i hc that he brings a water bottle w him that's just green tea n honey so when you're close to his face (cuddling, hugging, etc) the honey adds this sweetness that blends super well w the aforementioned chamomile + jasmine <3

~ like jing yuan, super involved in haircare!! he does use less products, but you still freakin adore this chamomile shampoo that he uses. avid believer in aromatherapy, prob uses essential oils (not for curing cancer ofc)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

welt

~ coffee and amberwood!! both are deep and rich scents and he probably uses cologne in very small amounts aksjdks

~ coffee addict and the scent faintly lingers, so the amberwood is really more prominent, but overall i promise he doesn't smell like dust or smth, he's not that old he takes good care of himself :))

~ burns incense in his room bc it helps him relax and concentrate on his drawings, so he does have a little resin smell to him, but you don't mind bc it's actually quite comforting. he once almost caused a fire bc he dropped a lit match onto the carpet but we don't talk about that-

~ loves to hug you so whenever he does, you always feel so cozy and loved and aaaaa ya'll are so cute i can't <3 and since he's pretty tall he sometimes rests his head on top of yours and hugs you from behind like that and you melt immediately bc it's like a blanket!! but smells super nice!!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˊˎ˗

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #fluff #gepard fluff #blade fluff #jing yuan fluff #dan heng fluff #luocha fluff #welt fluff #blade x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #dan heng x reader #luocha x reader #welt x reader #tysm for the idea though!!! i actually love it sm-

[contentloadinggg]

January Blues - Hozier

Author’s Note: Y’all I finally did it. We’re going to pretend it’s still January so this fits. But it’s finally here 🙏. Thanks to my bestie lunaritessane Who’s input made this fic a whole lot better. I love you💚. (Literally, like their beta reading was just delicious.)

Summary: Andrew is feeling down, you make him feel better. Gender neutral!reader. (3k words)

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Smut! Smut turned weirdly poetic sometimes?. Kinda Switch!Andrew, sub vibes at the beginning, soft dom vibes later. Descriptive descriptions of Andrew’s long dick. (I have a problem)

This is a work fiction and is not a reflection of who Hozier is.

Inspired by:

“Well you cured my January Blues, yeah, you made it all alright.”

Fic under the cut💙, 18+ only, you’ve been warned.

The further Ireland dipped into the depths of winter, the more Andrew’s mood dropped. Reflecting the rainy, washed-out climate outside the frosty windows of his house. It hardly even snowed this winter, just a cold rain that somehow made his mood worse. Logically, he knew it was likely that the lack of sun on his already pale skin was what had him wallowing. But alas, no amount of tea and books seemed to make him feel any better. So that’s why he’d given up by this point. Gaze zoned out past the pages of his novel and tea now cold on the coffee table. His mind clouded like the gathering storm outside.

“Andy?”

A gentle call of his name had Andrew startled. Usually he would’ve noticed your presence by the sound of your footsteps, but he’d been too far into his head to notice.

“Yes, darling?”

He asked, the tone of his voice reflecting yours in its quiet manner.

“I’m just wondering if you’re alright? I’ve called your name a few times and you haven’t answered.”

You replied. Despite keeping your voice light, he can tell by the slight frown and the furrow of your eyebrows you’re more concerned than you're letting on. Sighing deeply with resignation, he closes the book with a soft snap and sets it aside. 

“I’m just feeling… I’m not sure. Down, I suppose.”

He answers, voice tainted with melancholy. You look even more concerned. A part of him wishes he didn’t worry you over trivial things. But how could he ever resist your questioning of his well-being?

You walk over to him and sit down on the arm of the chair. Running a hand into the long curls of his hair to scratch at his scalp. He hums and closes his eyes, leaning back into your soothing touch.

“Anything I can do to help?’

You ask and he breathes out through his nose with a shake of his head.

“Not sure there’s much you can do, but… stay?”

Andrew replies, aware his tone sounds dangerously close to needy. But you only smile and nod. Sating any insecurities he has as you continue to massage his scalp. 

He hums contently once more, letting his head rest against your hand. The warm light of the room throws shadows over his face and the pale lines of his neck. Shrouding the valleys in darkness and the highlights with warmth. Turning the sharpness of his cheekbones all the more prominent if that's possible. 

Leaning down, you leave a few kisses over his cheekbones. The feeling of warm breath against his face forces a smile to his lips. He turns his head, capturing your lips against his. Your kiss is like a balm on his apathy, replacing it with passion. Your free hand cups the side of his face. Feeling the gentle scratch of facial hair against your palm that’s also felt on your chin. The feeling lures you closer. Pressing into the space between his and your bodies until you’re straddling one of his legs. Lost in the velvety sensation of lips and tongues against each other. You break it off first. Ignited with one simple idea. 

“Let me make you feel better, yeah?”

You prompt, in a lowered, raspier voice. He looks up at you with blown pupils, green irises dark. Shining hot in the orange light from the lamp. He breathes out. Like he can’t believe you’re real. And nods eagerly.

“Please… do what you’d like.”

His breathless agreement makes you smile and melt a bit, moving his head to get access to his throat. A soft sound leaves his mouth as you kiss over the thin skin. Breath hitching when your tongue follows along the groves of his veins. He’s so goddamn sensitive. He has to hold back a few noises, the heat of your breathing brushing over his neck. Goosebumps appear over his arms. He’s becoming more and more aware of your every move.

Andrew lets out a loud groan that he quickly cuts off in embarrassment. A response to the dragging of your teeth over the base of his neck where it meets his shoulder. The skin beneath your lips flushes a pink color. You snicker in response to the noise, and he huffs in irritation.

“It’s okay, I wanna hear you. I wanna know you’re enjoying it. You sound absolutely gorgeous, but that’s no surprise.”

You murmur to him, rubbing his side to subdue his unease. You know he’s listening because the muscles relax beneath your hand. He lets out another moan as you nibble, turning the skin a pale red.

It’s not long before you’ve scattered similar-looking bites over his neck. By the time you’re getting his sweater off Andrew is breathing a little heavier, sweat building on the back of his flushed neck. 

His chest stutters watching you sink to your knees in front of the armchair. Eyes hooded and darkened.

“Just lie back, baby, and I’ll cure all those blues.”

You direct, and he does as you say. His mouth is too dry to try and come up with a sassy reply to your somewhat cheesy line. Not like that would matter anyway. All thought disappears from his head when your mouth lands on his chest. Kissing, licking, sucking down his sternum. Your lips wrapping around one of his nipples has him debating whether or not to beg for mercy. Airless moans slip from his lips without time nor thought to stop them. 

“Fuckin’ Hell, darling. That’s so good.”

Andrew hisses, voice rough, Irish accent thickened, words a little slurred. His hands running into your hair. Using whatever is there to try and get a grip. Large palms grasping at the back of your skull. He can’t help but pull when you tug on his nipple, forcing a quiet moan from your lips.

“Shit, sorry.”

He apologizes in a way that would sound regretful if it wasn’t husky with arousal. You laugh in response to him jerking under your mouth when you suck softly. Your way of telling him it’s okay. 

After giving Andrew’s nipple a bit more attention, just to hear him whine a few more times. And then start slowly kissing down his stomach. Feeling every little twitch and breath beneath your mouth. 

“Darling, please, please, stop teasing.”

There it is, the pleads for mercy. He’s practically whimpering. His voice becomes tight. A struggle for control. You grant his wish, hands moving to his belt. There’s a large bulge beneath his jeans, straining against the fabric. God, that must be uncomfortable, you can feel the heat from here. 

Eventually, with a bit of moving around, you manage to pull his jeans and boxers off. Freeing his cock from the confines of his clothes. It arches up towards his stomach with a surprising stiffness, considering you haven’t even been touching him for that long. He’s decently above average in length. To the point it burns a little to take, but not ridiculously so. The tip is a deep red, swelled with a desperation to be touched. 

Andrew shoots a hand from your hair to the arm of the chair. Gripping it with a hiss when he feels the brush of your breath over the sensitive skin. His cock twitches, the two prominent veins along the bottom throbbing. You decide not to make him wait any longer. Wrapping a hand around the shaft. Andrew looks down at you with hungry eyes alight with reverence, studying your every move. 

“God- fucking, yes.”

Andrew gasps in pleasured relief, a moan quickly following when you start stroking the length of his shaft, giving every inch an equal amount of attention. Just barely touching the tip to tease him. To watch his cravings become unbearable. At first, he accepts the simple touch, relishing in finally having friction on his cock. However, it soon becomes too little and he starts rocking his hips into your hand, eager for more. Slender thighs flexing with the movement. Light shining over his jutting hip bones. He’s absolutely stunning from this angle, chest heaving as he squirms. A thin sheen of sweat glistening over the bridge of his nose and high cheekbones. A stark contrast to the darkness of his neatly trimmed beard. 

“Babe-”

Andrew starts, his words sounding more like a gasp of breath. 

“Fine, I’ll be nice.” 

You relent, not wanting to torture him too much. Dragging your hand over the weeping head, Andrew moans and sinks his fingernails into the arm of the chair. His other hand cupping the back of your neck, trying his best not to grip or pull. You circle your thumb around the very tip of his cock, over the most sensitive glands. Andrew practically whimpers because of it. Legs jerking, he throws his head back. Eyes squeezed shut. Showing off all those pink love bites you left over his throat.

“Yes, just like that. Keep going.”

Andrew manages in that sweet, unsteady voice. It’s like he can’t get enough air into his lungs, caught between moaning and whining. He thrusts his hips into your hand which moves up and down the entire length of his dick. A focused attention with a twist of your wrist over the head. Andrew isn’t the only one getting impatient. You’re interested in doing much more than just a handjob. 

So, when your impatience gets to be too much, you duck your head and take the tip of his cock into your mouth. Causing a high-pitched noise of surprise from the man above. There’s an even sharper noise as you press your tongue against the bottom and suck. Pulling precum from his eagerness. The tangy and sharp taste coating your tastebuds, sticking to your tongue. It fills your senses, nearly overwhelming the musky scent of Andrew’s arousal. 

“Let me see your eyes, please. Look at me.”

Andrew urges, his voice higher than normal. Looking up at him, his eyes meet yours. And he responds like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. His lips parted, looking down at you with warmth in his eyes. His entire dick throbbing with your gaze on his. 

“God, you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.”

He gasps out. His hand letting go of the armchair and brushing the hair away from your face. So he can see all of you properly. 

“So, so pretty down there.”

Andrew continues in a murmur, the pleasure of seeing you drives his ecstasy even higher. He gently moves slightly further into your mouth, hungry for more of the warm pleasure, more than what your hand is giving him. You welcome him, slowly working his cock deeper into your mouth. Jaw stretching to accommodate until it nearly aches. Your tongue cradles the underside. 

He moans lowly, running fingers over your scalp. The warm and wet feeling of your mouth wrapping around his cock causes his entire body to shiver. Pleasure bolting up his spine. He nearly becomes lightheaded with the rush of blood, cheeks flushing a bright red against the paleness of the rest of his skin. 

The more you take, the more difficult it is to breathe. Andrew stops you for a moment,  letting you take a breath. He caresses your jaw with the backs of his fingers, helping it relax out. 

“Just go slow, breathe through your nose.”

He speaks in a calmly commanding voice. Forcing you to stay in your moment of pause for a few seconds longer before letting you continue. You follow his introductions and breathe through your nose, taking measured breaths as you sink further. Until tears gather in your eyes when the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat. Pushing at your gag reflex. 

A pleasured rumble sounds in Andrew’s chest. Vibrating back through your bones. He continues stroking your jaw, making sure you can take every inch.  

“That’s good. You’re doing so well, baby. Start moving if you want.”

Andrew says, trying his best to keep his composure so his desire doesn’t get the better of him. It nearly does when you start moving achingly slow up and down the length of his dick. Your mouth is so consumingly tempting, hot and wet and just perfect. Both a gift and a curse. Luring Andrew to near madness with how good it feels. He’s speechless, wordless. Stuck in this version of heaven. You’ve got him absolutely hooked. Even more so when you start to move faster. Suck harder. Letting saliva drip down your chin and glisten on your skin the way it does on his cock.  

“Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this. Your so skilled, so absolutely, fucking wonderful.”

He groans behind his clenched teeth. Resisting the urge to bury himself even deeper into your mouth. You struggle to move faster. Gagging on his cock when it hits your reflex. Andrew looks down at you, noticing your struggle. He gently pulls on your hair. Guiding you off his cock.

“It’s alright, let me help you, okay?”

He asks, but it’s less of a suggestion and more of a command if you want to keep going. You nod in agreement. 

“Yeah, okay.”

Andrew takes a careful hold of your hair, holding your head in place as he brings his hips closer to your mouth. The tip of his cock brushes your lips, it’s so red it’s almost purple. Eager and more than ready to slip back into your mouth.

“Ready?”

He asks one more time and you answer affirmatively again. He accepts this and nudges his dick slowly past your parted lips. Guiding himself back into the heat of your mouth. It’s wet, soft and very, very hot. He waits a moment for you to get used to it once more. Before starting to move. Using your hair to move you up and down. His hips rocking forwards into your mouth. His breath hitching as he feels your teeth gaze him. His thighs clasp either side of your head, knees almost on top of your shoulders.

“That’s it, let me help you. Just like this.”

Andrew praises in a tone that does nothing to conceal how good it feels. Carefully thrusting his cock in and out of your already sore throat. You’re so sweet, letting him do this. Willing to take apart every piece of him and put it back together. It’s something only you can do for him. Yet he’s sure you could do it for anyone. 

“God, that’s just right. You’re doing such a good job. You’re an angel.”

He manages, voice trembling. He rocks his hips faster. Guiding you to suck harder. Feeling every ridge moving back and forth across your tongue. The head is just barely nudging the back of your throat. Andrew is gasping, moaning above you like he’s never experienced something quite so amazing in his life. Something beyond any man’s wildest dreams.

His cock twitches in your mouth. His ecstasy reaching higher and higher. To the point his thighs are trembling, skin highlighted pink with exertion (is that how you spell it? idk). You look up at him. Admiring the way his features are painted with pleasure. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut. His long hair is messy and falling into his flushed face. There’s strands sticking to the sides of his face and neck with the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. Droplets slide down his collarbones and disappear into his sweater. 

He jerks his cock a little deeper on accident. Coming closer and closer to his finish. Causing you to gag. He opens his eyes with an apology on his lip. But you grasp his hips, pulling him closer. You shove down your gag reflex so you can take him all the way. Tears gathering on your waterline. He takes the hint with widened eyes of surprise and adoration. Carefully thrusting his cock into the depths of your throat, he groans loudly with pleasure. Both hands sinking into and grabbing on your hair. 

Your nose brushes his pelvis. The smell of musk filling your nose. An almost sweet, earthy scent coming from him. You make eye contact through blurry eyes. Andrew’s breath stutters, his legs tensing by the sides of your head. 

“Fuck- darling, so good. I’m gonna- shit. I’m gonna cum in your mouth. Do you want that? Do you want me to cum into your mouth?”

He asks, his words broken and stuttering. Almost failing at forming a sentence entirely. You nod the best you can. Tears and spit running down your face. He moans at your agreement. Somehow feeling hotter and even more aroused by it. 

Andrew thrusts his hips into your mouth. Pushing how much you can take as he chases his high. It’s not more than a minute of nearly reckless movements before he’s cumming into your mouth just as he said he would. His back arching into it as his legs shudder. He moans loudly from the bottom of his chest. His mouth hanging open. Head thrown back with his eyes rolled back into his skull. Shooting warm, thick cum into your mouth. The salty and bitter taste overwhelming your senses, but one you could taste over and over again. You groan around his cock. Causing his legs to jump as he feels the vibrations. 

He pants, remaining motionless in his recovery. His brain needed a moment to recover before piecing itself back together and pulling out of your mouth. There’s a lopsided, still half-gone smile on his face as he looks down at you. Humming happily as you swallow his cum. 

“You’re so amazing, baby.”

Andrew compliments breathlessly. Moving his hands to cup your cheeks and brush the tears away.

“I’m so, so proud of you. Come on, get off your knees.”

The tenderness of his voice is so beautiful. His actions even more so, helping you up off the floor. And positioning you on one of his thighs. 

“Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough with you?” 

He questions, his worries calming when you shake your head. Still recovering yourself.

“Good… can I return the favor?”

Thank you so much for reading my first fic 🫶, any constructive criticism is appreciated. I’m going to go do the school work I’ve been procrastinating over to do this instead now. Hopefully, the next fic won’t take over a month to write and I’ll be more active.

-Thad 💚

#fanfiction #andrew hozier byrne #Andrew Hozier Byrne x reader #Hozier x reader #smut #fluff #rpf #I wrote this with one hand #if you know what I mean #Andrew is a sexy little shit #Spotify #Hozier smut

[bakubunny]

Do you have a monsterfuck idea for any of your fav? If it’s not your thing pls feel free to delete this.

someone (i won’t name names) has been trying to @ me for my unhinged state today, so i’m upping the ante and answering this ask bc i have thoughts. i only gravitate towards hybrids & humanoid forms so i hope this counts!

f!reader

dragon!eijiro. (see here) he’d probably split you in half without trying and only slightly feel bad for it when he blows his massive load in you bc he wants to breed you so damn bad. his anatomy alone tells you that he’s a breeder, that’s for sure. he knows it’s not impossible to knock you up, and that birthing his children wouldn’t kill you (you really think he didn’t think this through fully?). and he’s just been lonely for so long, won’t you help him? 🥺 he’s sweet and pretends to be clueless about sex for a little bit to try not to scare you, but the way he kisses you, how he has you cumming in his lap before he’s even gotten your clothes off as you grind on his massive dick, tells you he’s lying through his teeth. truth is he’s flustered but it’s more because he’s so fucking pent up after being alone for at least a hundred years. and the fact that this soft, pretty little thing wants him, all big, strong, scaley, and kind of roughed up, one that’s not even your own kind, has him stumbling and blushing. bc all he could think about the moment he caught your sweet scent a mile away was how badly he wanted to breed you. and once he gets going? he knows there’s going to be no stopping him from fucking you until you’ve nearly passed out, filling you over and over in the coming days and weeks until you’re knocked up and swollen. but he’s a kind lover…. dragon!eijiro tries to be gentle with you as much as he can. he takes care of you between breeding fuck sessions, makes sure you’re comfortable, have plenty to eat and drink, etc. he keeps you snuggled and cozy against his burning chest with the chill of a winter storm outside his cave.

hybrid bunny!reader with any number of characters. (my online name is bunny, what did you expect?) kiri, deku, kami, tokoyami, and toshinori would be sweet and just try to help out their poor baby bunny who’s in heat and constantly nuzzling their legs and crotch. they know it’s probably wrong to fuck their pretty little hybrid, but you just look so needy and almost fucked out when you’re grinding on their leg with a pleading look on your face. bkg, aizawa, shinso, takami, and sero know it’s wrong, but you sound so fucking cute when you’re taking their cock, fucking your hips back into them with your tongue out and eyes rolling that they don’t want to stop. they know they should find you a mate that can knot you and sate your needs properly, and maybe some day they will. but for now….

wolf hybrids & dog hybrids always make me feel some type of way, i’ll be honest. i’m particularly fond of kiri, bkg, deku, and shinso with the wolf hybrid trope. it gives breeding kink vibes and i’m abt that. and no i’ve definitely never thought abt wolf hybrid!aizawa.

#are you happy senpaii? #have i lowered the bar enough for you? 🤓 #monster fucking #hybrid #bnha x reader #bnha smut #smut hcs #bakubunny #asks

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

snowed in

A/N: i literally got the idea for this fic last summer... and I know I could have written a whole long thing, but I just wanted the smut and the vibes.

summary: “who the hell are you? what are you doing here?”

warnings: Steve Harrington x Hopper's niece!reader, smut, forced proximity, being snowed in, very light enemies to lovers vibes, kissing, fingering, handjob, brief pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, thigh riding, somno adjacent, multiple orgasms

word count: 3465

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Finally, after what had felt like the longest car ride of your life, you stepped out of your vehicle and stretched your legs. 

Even with the sun as just a simple memory at this point, the plump piles of snow still illuminated the forest you now found yourself in. Sticking your head back into the car, you grabbed the small duffle bag you’d hastily packed this morning and turned to approach the small, secluded cabin. 

This was exactly what you needed. A few days away from everyone. Just you and nobody else.

Upon entering the rustic home, the bag in your hand almost instantly fell from your freezing fingers, being so exhausted from the long travel that you didn’t bother setting it down properly. 

Just then, after you’d stepped out of your snow-covered boots, shredded your thick coat and the other winter essentials you wore in order to fight the cold, the bathroom door in the seemingly abandoned home swung open and gave you such a big fright that you nearly sprinted out the front door, clad now in entirely too little to even joke about such a thing.

Your scream pierced the cabin walls as a young man appeared and nearly jumped out of his skin as well.

“Jesus christ!” he held an arm out in alarm, “who the hell are you? What are you doing here?”

It was first now that your buzzing vision focused in on the stranger and noticed that he was in fact only dressed in a towel hung dangerously low on his hips. 

“Who am I? Who are you?” you shrieked, trying not to let your eyes explore his exposed skin, still glistening from the shower. 

“I asked you first.”

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n, Hopper’s niece! Now tell me who you are before I call my uncle and have him arrest you for trespassing!”

“My name is Steve, and just for the record, princess, Hopper let me stay here this weekend.” 

“He did?” damn it… you should have called first instead of just grabbing the spare key and heading all the way there without a single word. “Are-… are you sure?”

“Am I-,” he repeated, sounding offended that you even asked, “yes, I’m sure!”

“Shit… I drove all day to get down here…”

“…and you didn’t bother to call ahead first?” he furrowed his brows and crossed his arms over his broad fuzzy chest. 

“Oh, shut up, Stephen!” you wallowed in your misery. 

“It’s Steve.”

“Yeah, whatever dude,” you huffed, glumly peeking back out the frosty window at your car, “you’re not the one who has to drive all night in order to get back home,” you muttered dramatically, “it’s not like I can just pull over and sleep in my car when it’s minus-, ugh, I don’t know, a lot outside,” you let your head slump forward and collide gently with the freezing windowpane, hiding none of your despair. “You know what, on second thought, the freezing-to-death option doesn’t seem half bad in comparison to going back home…” you joked against the glass, then quickly added when you glanced over your shoulder to see his face filled with horror, “I’m kidding, though I might fall asleep at the wheel, we’ll see.” 

Letting out a heavy sigh, Steve uncrossed his arms to gesture to the living room area, “take the couch.”

“Really?” you gasped. 

“But just till the sun comes up, you got it?” he pointed his finger at you in warning. 

Waking up from what must have been one of the most uncomfortable nights of sleep you’d ever experienced, you clawed your way out of the mountain of blankets you’d piled on top of you in hopes that it would help remedy your unwavering chill. You’d even hopped in just about all the clothes you’d brought with you, but it still wasn’t enough to make your shiver stop. 

Gathering yourself as quickly as you could, you kept up your part of the deal and exited the cabin first thing. Or rather, you tried. 

Attempting again and again, the front door just wouldn’t budge. Putting your shoulder into it, you finally managed to shove it open just a few inches revealing the blinding white sight of a mount of snow pilled up directly against the door, nearly coming up to your hip. 

“Oh my god,” you sighed, quickly moving to one of the frost-covered windows to get a better view of your obscured car, completely buried under a huge pile of snow, “you’ve got to be kidding me…”

Emerging out of the small bedroom, Steve greeted, “morning, princess. You on your way out?”

Turning your head to look at him, you caught the chill that went up his spine as the small sliver out to the aftermath of the blizzard was just enough to penetrate him to his bones. “Apparently not,” you gestured to the state the cabin’s porch was in.

“Oh, shit,” the sight woke him up more effectively than coffee. 

“What do I do? Do you think I could get rid of the snow near the door enough to get out?”

“Maybe, but even if you did manage to dig your way out, that car is first of all completely buried and second of all would in no way be able to drive in this weather.” 

“Well, what if I walked? Hawkins can’t be that far.”

“If you could drive then yeah it wouldn’t be too bad. What, do you think you could walk all day in 4 feet, if not more, of snow? You would get hypothermia if you just stepped out on the porch with the way you’re dressed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that I didn’t have time to pack any blizzard-appropriated clothes, you dick!” you snapped at the striking stranger, “what do you want me to do, huh?” 

“There isn’t really anything to do except wait it out,” he stated, then moved to open a small cabinet and rummaged through it a bit. 

“Wait…” you echoed, glancing back out the window and letting your unfortunate circumstances sink in. 

“Here,” he tossed a thick woollen sweater directly in your face. It was big and undoubtedly your uncle’s, “so you don’t freeze to death.”

“What?” your hands froze in their preparation of the small couch for yet another chilly night of sleep. 

Glancing up at Steve in pure shock, he continued with a small eye roll, “jesus, I’m not asking you to marry me, I just don’t wanna wake up to find your frozen corpse on the couch.”

“It’s not that bad…”

“Princess, I could hear your clambering teeth through the walls all the way in the bedroom last night,” he cocked his head a moment, then clarified with a sigh, “just, you stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, it will just feel like we’re sleeping in the same room.”

“Except it is the same bed,” you blinked up at him, “you want me to sleep in the same bed as you? Seriously?”

“Well, I’m sorry for trying to keep you alive, keep you warm. It’s not my fault the only fireplace is in the bedroom and doesn’t do shit for the rest of the cabin!”

And after a long moment of squinting at him suspiciously, you then said, “…fine. But I swear if this is just some cheap trick for you to try something-”

“Oh my god, no,” he cut you off with a laugh, “have you met you? You’re absolutely infuriating.”

Alright, he didn’t have to say it like that… “Well, good, because if you try anything I’ll stick my uncle on you as soon as I get out of here.”

You had no idea how you ended up like this. You hadn’t started out like this last night but somehow, at some point during the restful night, you and Steve had become rather entangled. 

His face was pressed into the side of your hair, and it wasn’t just his strong arm that was draped across your torso, one of his thick thighs was stuffed in between yours as well. It was almost as if he had just rolled over and clicked into place against you. 

You could tell by his slow breathing that he was still asleep, although your own got caught in your throat as it dawned on you what exactly it was that was poking your side. The mixture of his morning wood and his thigh pressing up against your panties made your mind suddenly recall not the specific details of the dream you’d just woken from, but the theme it had was now as crystal clear in your mind as the arousal that still dripped down onto the cotton of your underwear and surely soaked Steve’s thigh. 

You weren’t completely awake yet, still hazy, clinging to that fleeting memory of your liquid dream. And without even realising it, you began to rock your hips down against his leg, breathing out a soft sigh as your eyes fluttered closed again. His gentle breath seeped directly into your ear and acted as a gentle soundtrack lulling you deeper into that drowsy dawn desire. 

You didn’t even realise how deep you had sunk, how long you had grinded your soaked panties over his thigh, it wasn’t till you neared the edge and let out a needy sound, loud enough to burst your own bubble, that you woke you up completely with a jolt, jumping under the duvet and scampering away from Steve.

Swiftly trying to play it off as just a loud yawn, you faked one as you felt Steve stir behind you. 

Your body still very much entwined with his own, it didn’t take long for him to notice how his morning excitement was poking you and let out a gravely curse underneath his breath. 

“Fuck,” he quickly worked to distance himself from you, the now missing warmth sending a shiver down your spine, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you squeaked, hiding your still-flushed cheeks in the pillow, “you have nothing to apologise for, it’s a totally natural thing.”

“Yeah,” he breathed beside you, his morning voice making you suck in a deep breath in order not to get all worked up again, “totally natural…”

“Stop shaking,” Steve grumbled in the bed beside you, “you’re making my teeth rattle.” 

Yet another night had bloomed outside the cabin you continued to be snowed inside of with a man who had over the past day or so moved on from being a complete stranger to something more akin to a forced acquaintance. An acquaintance who had made your pulse spike all day since what happened this morning… 

“I-I’m sorry,” you shivered, “how are you not freezing?”

“Guess my body is just more used to the cold than yours.” 

Then, without warning, Steve made a split decision and rolled over, wrapping his long arms around you, and drawing you in close. “What are you doing?” you protested, planting a hand on his chest and glaring up at him with wide eyes. 

“Would you just shut up and let me help?” his hands tightened their hold on your trembling form, fingers digging into the borrowed woollen sweater that you still adorned, “I won’t get any sleep if you don’t warm up soon.” 

Slowly, you let your body relax in his embrace, feeling your bare legs press up against the soft fabric of his pyjama bottoms, and how his whole body radiated heat, making you feel as if you could melt right into his chest. 

“Thank you,” you averted your gaze from his entrancing chocolaty ones, bowing your head gently and over time letting your forehead drop into his chest, right under his chin. Eventually, you felt his fingers begin to dance along your spine, drawing soothing patterns, probably in an effort to draw you closer to sleep, but his soft touch only succeeded in the complete opposite, igniting little sparks that travelled through your body and ended at your core. 

Your breathing notably changed as you lied there, scared to move in case it would prompt him to halt his touch. As you felt his fingertips begin to occasionally dip down under the hem of your sweater, briefly caressing your bare skin, you buried your face even deeper into his shirt and dug your fingers into the material, breathing in his scent and trying to stay silent. 

It didn’t take more than the tiniest turn of his own hip for them to come into contact with yours, within seconds you let out a muffled gasp as you felt the palpable tent in his pants, pressing against you and standing proud in search of your warmth. 

Absentmindedly you wiggled your hips gently against his, eyes screwing shut as you heard the prominent exhale that he let out right above your head. One of Steve’s hands instinctively slid down to grasp your hip, though not in an effort to stop them, just holding them steady as he gently attempted a rock of his own against your centre. 

“Steve,” you breathed, tightening your fists in his shirt. 

“Do you want me to stop?” his fingers slowly curved around your bottom, palming your ass lightly through the thin cotton of your panties. 

“No, don’t-, please, don’t stop,” you pleaded into his chest. 

Feeling one of his hands glide up to grasp your cheek, he tilted your head back and searched your dark eyes, “you sure?”

“I’m sure, I’m so fucking sure, Steve, please-” your hazy sentence was abruptly cut short as he crashed his lips into yours, seizing you quickly, though when he had landed, he surprised you by slowing down, your own mouth needing a moment to catch up to the unexpectedly leisurely pace, though in no time you found yourself whimpering against his lips as he kissed you like if he had all the time in the world, enjoying every second as he flicked his tongue teasingly over your lips and lapped up your blissful smile. 

Your brows furrowed as his fingers found your soaked panties, playing with your clit through the fabric, “you sure you don’t just want my thigh again, princess?” he purred, catching off guard, “just pick up where you left off this morning?”

��You-,” you reeled back breathlessly, both your hands still holding on to either side of his face, “you were awake?”

“Sure was,” he smirked, hooking a finger in your underwear, and pulling them to the side. 

“How long?” your chin rose in a silent gasp as you felt him explore your wet petals.

“Every single second,” he gently dipped a finger inside your leaking hole, “fuck, do you know how hard it was to keep my hands off of you all day?” his digit pumped in and out of you slowly, making your hips angle towards him for more, “I’ve never been that turned on during a game of scrabble as I was today.”

“Should have just pushed the game aside then,” you slid your right hand down from his cheek to the bulge straining in his pants. 

Dipping your fingers down below the waistband, you grasped his hard cock, “oh yeah? Is that what you wanted me to do? Just make the pieces go flying and bury my face between your thighs?” 

“I don’t think I need to answer that question,” you uttered as the noises of your slick heat join in and mixed with the crackling flames still dancing in the fireplace in the corner of the room. 

“Have you just been this wet all day, princess?” he joined an additional finger in beside the other one. 

Your impatience only grew after you gave his girth a few needy tugs, “well I didn’t get to finish this morning, so yeah,” you pulled his pants down just enough to free his stiff length, the waistband coming to rest just beneath his heavy sack. 

“Poor you…” he withdrew a moment in order to yank your panties down your goosebump-ridden legs, “you want me to help you? You wanna cum?”

Not giving his fingers a chance to return, you angled his dick and swiped the bulbous head through your folds, nudging it especially against your little swollen pearl, “please.”

“You wanna cum on my cock, is that it?” he pulled your left leg up to rest upon his hip, spreading your pussy for him and giving him more room to play. 

“Yes,” flowed past your lips like a breathy prayer. 

Grabbing onto the base himself, he overpowered your hold, “tell me you want it,” he nudged the tip rudely against your clit. 

“I want it,” your answers were quick and desperate.  

“Tell me you wanna cum on my cock,” he flowed down to tease your entrance. 

“I wanna cum on your cock, please, please, please,” you pleaded, turning into complete puddy in his hands. 

Thrusting his hips forward, he purposely only gave you the tip at first, slowly, with every unhurried thrust giving you more and more till he was buried to the hilt inside you, balls pressing against your sticky skin. Once he had given you everything he had, his slow movements came to a complete standstill as you found each other’s eyes and as one reeled in the sensation together, catching your breaths a moment before diving into a hungry kiss. 

Lips locked, his movements began again, keeping the thrusts long and slow, dragging out nearly all the way, and occasionally truly all the way, before filling you back up in a manner that was both so slow but also hard, a manoeuvre that managed to take your breath away completely every time. 

Before you knew it, sneaking up on you unexpectedly like a thief in the night, your body began to tremble again in his embrace, though this time it wasn’t from the cold. Not changing his pace one bit, he fucked you through your orgasm, kissing your cheeks as your eyes rolled back in overwhelming ecstasy. 

Still under the covers, pushing through the overstimulating pleasure he gave to you, Steve suddenly grabbed your ass and in one fell swoop manhandled your trembling form, rolling over so you could be on top of him. 

“So fucking pretty,” he readjusted the duvet around your shoulders, then slid his large palms down your body, “come on, don’t stop now,” you felt his hand come down upon your immobile ass, your fuzzy brain not yet caught up to the fact that the pace was now in your control, “you can do it, princess,” he fingers dug into your hips, kickstarting their movements, “keep going for me.”

You tried to bounce in his lap, you really did, but with your thighs as shaky as they still were and your walls still clambering down on his dick from your intense high, the result ended up looking rather clumsy, though you didn’t care as you slowly rode out your sensitivity and gathered up the strength for more.

With your face completely buried in his neck, panting against his pulse, you moaned in his ear, “please,” trying to keep up your light rocking.

“What?” his fingertips danced over your spine, “can you not do it yourself? Has my dick made you go so dumb that you don’t even know how to ride it anymore?”

“Steve,” you pouted, smooching your face deeper into his skin.

“It’s okay, princess,” his fingers slid down towards your hips again and grasped them tight, holding them in place, “I don’t mind doing all the work,” your upper body melted into his skin even more, “you just lay here and keep making those beautiful noises for me, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you felt yourself begin to drool as he started to buck up into you. 

Completely losing himself to the rhythm, Steve's ever-flowing groans evolved into the most earthshattering moans you’d ever heard, the sound alone making you feel dizzy, although the ridiculous pace he had worked himself up to was more than enough to get your screams to bounce off of the cold cabin walls.

Jerking violently in his arms as your second peak washed over you, the sensation almost being too much to bear, he held you against him, not letting you go till you were more than done and your throbbing pussy had milked him off all of his worth. 

Plastered against each other under the toasty duvet, his softening girth still split you apart as his sticky load slowly leaked out and painted his pyjama pants, you murmured weakly into his skin, “so when do you think the snow will melt?”

“I don’t know, I think spring might be a pretty safe bet.”

Peaking up at him, you asked, “are you still in a hurry to get rid of me?”

Glancing blissfully down at you in his arms, he smiled, “I think I could manage if you stayed a little longer.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x hopper's niece!reader #steve harrington x reader #hopper's niece!reader #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x hopper!reader #steve harrington x y/n #winter fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington hc #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington hcs

[mirixmoya]

hello friends welcome to GRADING TORTURED POET SOCIETY SONGS BASED ON HOW EASILY I COULD TURN THEM INTO A HAYFFIE FIC (PART ONE) i hope u enjoy.

(for those interested but also my own future reference when i eventual do turn them into hayffie fics hehe)

i. fortnight: 5/10. potential post-war effie reflecting on their pre-canon and during-canon situationship. the "i love you / it's ruining my life" vibe is very Them but i'd have to write my way around all the wife lines.

ii. the tortured poets department: 8/10. good early-to-mid-situationship hayffie. good moments for haymitch trauma angst stuff. "who's gonna hold you like me?" is them. the wedding ring line could be just them messing around while drunk one night during games season; it's when effie realizes it's Real.

iii. my boy only breaks his favourite toys: 9/10. excellent endish situationship hayffie vibes, 74th + 75th era. has good lines for effie as doll / toy / trinket (ha) imagery. also good imagery for effie and haymitch both being pieces in The Games. also "he runs because he loves me" and "he was my best friend" and "there was danger in the heat of my touch" ... need i go on?

iv. down bad: 7/10. good for their relationship between the end of the war and when effie actually moves to twelve. "how dare you think it's romantic / leaving me safe and stranded" literally them. also lots of good stuff for effie's post-war isolation in the capitol.

v. so long, london: 3/10. has the potential for a (book-verse) post-war angst fic where effie and haymitch try their absolute hardest but ultimately have too much trauma + damage to make it work. idk if i wanna do that tho.

vi. but daddy i love him: 9/10. excellent song for pre-canon hayffie all around. effie's relationship to her womanhood / escorting in the capitol? check. effie's inner conflict over her feelings for haymitch vs. her capitolborn beliefs? check. "dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid" but oh no haymitch ruined them! we cheered! joking that she's having haymitch's baby to her parents just to piss them off... very effie behaviour. excellent song for that Haymitch Is Unlike The Capitol Dandies Effie's Been Raised To Love theme that i like. "i know he's crazy but he's the one".

vii. fresh out the slammer: 7/10. good song for smack in the middle of their situationship. winter vs. summer parallels. effie's seasons without haymitch vs. games season. restriction with her capitol bfs vs. freedom with haymitch. "all those nights he kept me going". the end is good for a post-war hayffie happiness moment.

viii. florida!!!: 8/10. really good song for a Effie's Relationship With The Capitol fic. the isolation, the beauty covering ugliness, etc. "this city reeks of driving myself crazy". "at least the dolls are beautiful" that's literally about the escorts. "you home's really only the town you'll get arrested in" okayyy book-verse effie angst.

ix. guilty as sin?: 10/10. HORNY HAYFFIE ANTHEM. i need to get back in my writing proper smut era i fear. so so much material for haymitch worshiping at the altar of effie's hips and thighs. a song for people who believe that like a good 65% of their relationship is based on the fact that they're both incredibly hot and they both love having incredible sex. true love tbh.

x. who's afraid of little old me?: 9/10. excellent fic for the Effie's Relationship With Her Escort Career stuff that i love. "so tell me everything is not about me / but what if it is?" self centered queen! the general backstage horrors of escorting. "i was tame, i was gentle, till the circus life made me mean" ... "you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me" ... "i am what i am cause you trained me" .... yeah.

xi. i can fix him (no really i can): 4/10. potential for a very very early situationship hayffie. general haymitch being a traumatized mess and effie trying her very hardest to help vibes.

xii. loml: 6/10. the first half is excellent for post-war hayffie coming back together. "who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames" yeahhh. but the second half ... the "you're the loss of my life" vibe ... could fit into the (book-verse) No Matter How Hard They Try They're Too Traumatized To Make It Work narrative but idk.

xiii. i can do it with a broken heart: 10/10. THE PERFECT SONG for 75th era effie being the perfect escort despite the fact that the world is falling away beneath her feet. "I cry a lot but I am so productive! It's an art!" is sooooo her. "i'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like a plague" is haymitch avoiding her in an attempt to save her from Rebel Stuff but effie knows their relationship is only becoming more serious. she's miserable! she's hitting her marks! eyes bright! chins up! smiles on! everyone she loves might die! it's fine!

xiv. the smallest man who ever lived: 1/10. not a hayffie song at all. BUT potential effie + seneca relationship study fic?? mayhaps???

xv. alchemy: 7/10. good song for book-verse post-war post-torture effie going to haymitch in twelve. she's ditching the capitol, she's going back to her man! who are they to fight the alchemy? how could they ever deny it? his heart is reserved for her. the soulmastism! (not that they would ever admit that lmao)

xvi. clara bow: 10/10. ANOTHER PERFECT EFFIE CHARACTER STUDY SONG! the rose imagery? snow's impact on her life. "this town is fake, but you're the real thing". effie's relationship with the capitol / escorting / womanhood / fame / youth / patriarchy / etc. "flesh and blood amongst war machines" literally the escorts amongst The Games. "hell on earth is to be heavenly" + "promise to be dazzling". sexualization has liberated effie (given her a career, money, freedom) but at what cost? it's also her gilded cage.

anyway. thank u for coming to my extensive ted talk.

#effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #hayffie #haymitch x effie #the tortured poets department #(effie's version) #just my thoughts #im soooo normal about them #jk my brain is rotted

[red-riding-wood]

Hi! :) first of all, I love your blog and your writing is amazing!

I'm obsessed with peaky blinders for years now and i would love to request a fic about arthur shelby (cause he's my comfort character :') is it possible that you write a fic/imagine about him and a younger female reader (in her early 20s) that had a traumatic past and as a result resorted to unhealthy coping mechanisms (hurting herself, drinking,.etc.). Arthur and her are dating, he gets more and more protective over her cause he wants to keep her safe and as they get more intimate with each other (smut) and he notices her scars etc., he tries to make her feel more comfortable by praising her. So a mix of feelings, smut and a slight power dynamic (arthur is more dominant/caring and the reader is a little insecure). I hope that makes sense!

Also, if the topics make you uncomfortable/you don't like to write about said things, i can totally understand that you turn my request down. :)

~sending you positive vibes ! ♡

Ruined

moodboard by @shelbydelrey

Arthur Shelby x F!Reader I Peaky Blinders

Warnings: smut, mentions of self harm and scars, allusions to past sexual assault, angst, reader has body issues

WC: 2415

AN: Thank you so much for the request and the support, anon! It means so much to me and I'm SO sorry it's taken me so long to get this written. You've been in my thoughts a lot and I hope you're doing well! Actually was holding onto this one for a little while, too, because I didn't think the smut was very good, but I'll give myself a break because it's been a while since I've written anything spicy. Also, apologies for cutting it short; it was getting to be quite a long oneshot. I hope you like it!

---

“He wasn’t even looking at me, Arthur.”

“Nah, Y/N, you didn’t see him. I’ve seen enough bad men in my life to know he was up to no good,” Arthur disputed, aggressively hanging his overcoat on the rack.

You sighed, and closed the gap between the two of you; your hands went to the stubble of his cheek, and you sought his gaze with your own.

“Arthur,” you said, softer this time. “Just because I…” Your words hitched in your throat, your tongue bound from speaking of the assault as if admitting it would make it real. “… just because I’ve been hurt in the past doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again.”

Under your touch, he settled, if only slightly; it had been proven, time and time again, to tame the beast inside him. But his chest still heaved, and with a gentle finger you wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

“Arthur,” you said again to ground him, as his gaze began to wander anywhere but your face. “I hate seeing you like this, picking fights everywhere you go.”

Sometimes you wondered if you had made him worse. Ever since you’d started dating the eldest Shelby brother, he’d found more and more excuses to punch or bludgeon whoever looked at you the wrong way. Though your touch may have soothed him, your existence only stoked the fire that burned bright in his damaged soul.

“What am I supposed to do, then, eh?” he said, exhaustion working its way past the thorns of his tone, and his forehead brushed yours, unruly locks of brown hair tickling your lashes. 

You inhaled his scent – the sharp spice of his aftershave, the sweat of his ire, the musk that was so uniquely him that you couldn’t help but feel at home each time you breathed it. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you cocked your head at him slightly as an idea formed in your head.

“Maybe some kind of…” You drew a finger from his jaw down the bare of his chest before it disappeared beneath his shirt, and you swallowed as your heart beat faster against your ribs. “… physical therapy?”

Winter-blue eyes clouded in lust, and his Adam’s apple bobbed along his throat. Despite seeing him for a while, the two of you hadn’t gone all the way yet, but it wasn’t that you didn’t want him, or didn’t trust him. You had always been afraid that, when he saw the scars on your flesh, he would discard you for another young woman who didn’t ruin her body.

Ruined, indeed, you thought, with a bitter jolt in your chest. Your eyes lowered from his winter blues so that he wouldn’t see the self-hatred in your eyes.

“Now, don’t tempt me with that, love.” His breath fanned the hair from the side of your face as his hand slid from your shoulder down to your hip. “That somethin’ you want?”

Repressing your anxiety and your sullenness, you drew closer to him, pressing yourself against the heat of his body as you tried to formulate a verbal response.

“Hm?” His fingers tipped your chin back up to look him in his eye.

You nodded, biting your lip as your hips connected and you felt him hard beneath his trousers.

“Yes,” you breathed.      

“C’mere, then,” he growled playfully, his hands scooping your legs up. You wrapped your thighs around his waist for balance, and you chimed out a giggle as he carried you to his bedroom.

Though you knew he tried to be gentle, he practically threw you down on the bed, but you didn’t mind. A puff of air escaped your lungs and you sank into the mattress, your head spinning and heat pooling between your legs. Your pointed toe ran down his waist, not wanting to part from him even for the seconds it took for him to shed his shirt. You tried to prop yourself on your elbows to get a better look, biting your lip. A grin stretched apart his lips as he looked down at you, undoing his belt. And he said, with that gravel in his tone that you’d come to adore,

“Going somewhere, love?”     

You shook your head, but you managed to sit up, your breaths cast across his navel as you looked up at him from bright, playful eyes. “Not without you.”

Your fingers ghosted over his, knuckles rough against the softness of your palms. They stilled, and you pried them from his belt, your index slipping between the hem of his trousers and the heat of his flesh, your heart skipping a beat when you felt the coarseness of his hair.

Arthur’s breath hitched in his chest as you rose, on your knees, to place kisses along the ridge of his collarbone, tasting his sweat on the tongue you dragged down his clavicle to the center of his chest. An animalistic groan rumbled beneath your lips as you cast his belt aside and tugged the buttons from his trousers.

“Seems I’m not the only eager one,” he rasped as his fingers wove through your hair, seeming to light a trail of fire from the nape of your neck to your scalp and sending a shudder through every nerve of your body. For a brief moment, you stiffened, the sensation of his fingers tightening around your hair familiar to you in a way that had once been most vile but, in this moment, you were most ashamed to find thrilling. You reminded yourself that he wasn’t pulling as hard, and that at any moment if you asked him to stop he would. You reminded yourself that this time it was Arthur. And it was okay for it to feel good.

Heat suffused your cheeks at his words, and you cast a small moan just above the hem of his trousers, having worked your way down in loving kisses. His hand loosed from your hair, and his other came around to tilt your chin back up to look at him, hair flopping in front of those lustful eyes and the light of the chandelier framing his head in a halo, like he was some kind of fallen angel.

“As I much as I want you to continue…” he said, voice coming out ragged. “… I want to see what we’re dealing with.” His fingers ran along the outline of your breasts beneath your shirt, another shiver passing through you as his thumb brushed a pert nipple.

“I want to see you, love,” he said, thumb dragging down to the lip of your breast, your heart rate increasing the further he explored. You wanted to sit still, and be a good girl for him, but the pounding in your ears and the clamminess of your palms just wouldn’t subside.

You shuddered this time out of fear, that jolted through your veins, intense and cold and criminally contrast to the heat that inundated every other fibre of your being. But you hid it well. How could he had known he’d just traced over a scar you’d never shown him?

Your stomach twisted as you wondered what he would think when he saw them… all of them. And while you wanted nothing more than to be laid bare before the man who owned your heart and your soul and who deserved your body, and you wanted to give him it, you also couldn’t help but wonder, what if he thought you were ugly? What if he thought you were ruined?

And in that moment you scorned yourself for ever laying a blade to your thighs, or your stomach. You hated yourself for ruining something you could never have back, something that would’ve been beautiful had you not squandered it, time and time again.

“Arthur.” Your lip trembled, and your hands were shaking as they left the hem of his trousers. You panted out your breaths, your head even lighter than it had been before. And on your lips you could taste the words you yearned to say, to tell him why you ached so badly to do this but feared so cruelly unveiling a gruesome body that he did not deserve.

But all that came out was, “I’m scared.”

Something in his eyes softened at that, and any trace of his grin vanished as his weight sank into the mattress beside you. His hands were on you, but not in a frightening way; one ran across your trembling back and the other rested reassuringly on your thigh. You felt yourself leaning into his touch, as if it would vanquish any trace of fear or doubt that made your body tremble with such pitifulness. As if it would cleanse your impurities and make you whole again.

Arthur’s words seemed to catch on his tongue, and a flicker of his own uncertainty darted through those winter blues. “You’re not… scared of me, are you?”

“No, Arthur.” You cupped his cheek in your hand now, forcing his gaze to yours, even if yours was brimming with unshed tears. “I want you. And I trust you. I just…”

I’m ruined.

The words froze before they could even reach the back of your tongue, instead strangling your throat, your eyes bugging wide as you swallowed against them. All the while, Arthur’s gaze dragged solicitously across your face, and this time, he was the one to press his forehead to yours, his fingers tangling gently in your hair and rubbing soothingly along your back.

“Y/N,” he said, his heavy breath tangling with your short, frenzied ones. “So long as you ain’t scared of me, you don’t have to be scared of anything. I’m going to take care of you.” His lips dragged to your neck, placing a gentle yet firm kiss along your clavicle. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, love. Just let me take care of you.”

A soft moan stirred from your lips as you felt the heat of his lips on your neck, and your heart pounded in your core. Physically, you had never felt so conflicted, but his words, they were all you needed to hear. You trusted him, and that was what was important. Whether or not you deserved to be taken care of, that was a whole other demon, but Arthur Shelby had a way of making you want to submit to his every whim, to let him do with you as he pleased. This was how you would take care of him.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” he said.

You licked your lips, and said, “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

His hands lowered you to the bed, his stronger, sinewy frame looming over you and making your heart pound wilder in your chest. You licked your lips again, mouth dry, and swallowed back your fear as you felt his fingers begin to undo your blouse, revealing more of you until you were certain he could see what you had so desperately tried to hide. But his kisses were trailing between your breasts, and you helped shrug the garment off as he was absorbed in his work. Had your heart not been beating so fast and had your stomach not been turning so much in fear of what he would soon discover, you would’ve enjoyed the attention a lot more.

And there it was. He hesitated, the bristle of his moustache lifting from your skin and a hot breath exhaling across the scar, still fresh, still burning from the other night.

Your heart practically stopped.

“Y/N…” he breathed, the stubble of his chin brushing your skin to indicate that those blue eyes were on you. You peered back at him reluctantly, expecting horror in those eyes.

And they were filled with adoration.

“Is this what you were scared about, love?” he murmured against your stomach.

“Yes.” Your breath came shattered from your chest, still not quite able to believe your eyes.

For a moment longer, he held your gaze, with a pity you weren’t sure you wanted, but a love that eased your frenzied heart. And then, saying nothing, his lips brushed the scar ever-so-gently, as if to pay it reverence, and though the wound stung, you didn’t care in the slightest.

He still wanted you.

Once he had spent time on the first scar, he let his lips trail all across your stomach, with a surprising tenderness, his fingers gripping your hips tightly but in such a way that felt as if you were safe within his touch. He laid kisses across older scars, that had been slashed across your stomach, and as his lips grazed the lowest, you rocked your hips against the bulge in his trousers, drawing a moan from him and casting it hot against your belly.

“Don’t stop,” you murmured. “Please don’t stop.”

“Y/N, you’re fucking perfect. Have I ever told you that?”

“No,” you laughed, a tear pricking your eye but your anxiety and your tension all dissipating in wake of the sensations that the heat of his lips and the firmness of his hands and the tickle of his moustache sent racing along your skin.

“Well, you’re fucking perfect,” he said, as he pulled your skirt from your waist, and you helped kick it off, your legs instinctively crossing over to shield the scars along your thighs.

He seemed to notice this, and cast you a reassuring look before prying your knees open with strong fingers, and saying, “I’m going to have my way with every bit of you, love. Gonna kiss you everywhere because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had in my bed.”

Your head rolled back into the sheets as he began kissing and running his hands along your inner thighs. Chapped only slightly, his lips were hot as hellfire but soft as heaven as they explored each scar in a way you never had. In a way that was loving rather than shameful.

“Arthur,” you moaned, bucking your hips impatiently as his lips fell in the crook of your thigh.

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, coming up between your legs and cupping your cheek in his hand.

A streak of a playful grin pulled at your lips, and you whispered, “Fuck me.”

That devilish grin that you knew so well plastered itself across a handsome face, and as you felt him shift his trousers down, he murmured into your ear,

“Told you wouldn’t have to worry, love. Because if that wasn’t the plan for even a goddamn second…”

---

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[axieta]

Hungry eyes

Henry Winter x reader

Chapter 6

| The voyeur |

I had always thought that we all lead one life that ends with one, singular death. No matter its circumstances, timing and place it has always been clear to me. Its undeniability, certainty. One life for one death. And then I got to Hampden and realised there are many ways a man can die, many different types, not all terminal but certainly equally hurtful. A death of a soul, terrifying and overwhelming, never alone for in its footsteps the morbidly physical death follows and vice versa.

I thought that after Bunny’s death, that with his physical demise all of our souls followed suit. That all of us had two deaths written out in our lifetimes. And I sure as hell felt those clammy hands of my metaphorical death on my neck as I walked amongst the ferns on that night. I understood that some of us possessed the not-so-amiable privilege of dying twice. But now as I look back on those few murky months, maybe a bit more knowledgeable, with many more years weighting down on my back and with the perspective of time, adulthood, and gained experience that she, my beloved Diogenes shan’t die twice, like the rest of us, but trice. As I lived with her, dined with her, watched the light slowly go out in her once brilliant eyes. I saw the terrible decay eat at her and I saw her change, reverse paradoxically in her development. And I did nothing. Now I know that as long as I live I will always have only two deaths written down for me. She has three.

One- natural, geriatric, gentle death that should hopefully greet her kindly, at an old age.

Two- the slow decay of soul that started with Bunny’s death. One that pushed her off the precipice and swallowed the light in her brilliant eyes.

And three- one that happened right before my eyes, slipped beneath my radar and smouldered her most cruelly on that fateful eve, when Henry Winter came knocking on her door. A death like no other, a unique, quiet, long-term killer. But I guess those are the consequences of reaping your own tender heart out and handing it no another, to careless to be mindful of it.

Letting go of the reins of her love for him shall forever be the third omen of death in her astral calendar.

‘I came here to talk.’

Henry had said, his voice low and somehow slurry as I laid there, frozen on the couch.

‘There is no Hiob you could lay out your case to in here, nor a soul that would hear you out.’

She stood there in the doorway, a black misshapen blurb with straight unrelenting back. Like a wall she obscured the darken corridor before her.

‘I do not come here as an adversary of the devil tonight. Nor any other divine power.’

A pause and then a small sway over her shoulder. Glimpse of spectacles above her head that came closer and then bounced back as if their proprietary was balancing on the balls of his feet. Murmur of his coat, rustle of crumpled material sounded deafening in the silence of the flat. In her silence. I could not see her face, make out what was going through her mind, but the soft, almost dying light from the fireplace reached as far as the opened doors and the fist that was almost white with the force with which she squeezed the knob.

‘I come here as Hysminias. Suffering a threefold servitude. Through Eros, slave to you, Hysmine, through my eyes to your beauty, and through fate I am slave to your soul.’

‘I’m not… ¡Párate!’

She jumped back with a shriek from the door as he bursted into the space. Dark hair in disarray, spectacles crooked on his nose, coat crumpled, snow on his shoulders. I did not realise it before, but apparently throughout the day, the soft drizzle had turned into a snowfall.

The flickering orange light fell onto him, alighting his chin, his cheeks, his forehead, bathing him in a sudden halo that gave off a vibe so threatening so malicious when combined with his tight-pressed lips I felt shivers running up and down my spine.

There was something in his eyes, darting above the edges of his glasses I could not fathom with my drunken mind, an emotion I can now only describe as feverish famine.

His eyes were hungry, abyssal, threatening to swallow the small ethereal being backing away from them, bumbing into the table.

He halted in his steps once fully in the flat and she did as well. But now she was not the wall from just seconds before. Now she was prey in desperate need of some sort of partition.

Their voices were hushed as they spoke, conspiratory. As if whatever they intended to treat upon was a matter of greatest delicacy and they couldn’t afford anyone overhearing it. Well, too bad I was in the room.

‘I come here begging…’

‘You do not look like you’re begging.’

His brows furrowed with distaste.

‘I am.’

But he was not, for all that is sacred he was not. Standing tall, although a little swayed to the left, he towered over her, dark, all dark and murky, with a face of a hunter cornering his quarry.

She wrung her hands before her abdomen in a gesture I interpreted as sheer nervousness. I didn’t move. I simply could not. I watched as he came closer and rose his hands to her face, as if to cup them in a strangely gentle, loving manner, as she turned away abruptly and quickly swirled around the table. I closed my eyes when she threw a glance my way, face stern, cautious.

‘Richard está aquí.’

Black over my eyelids. Black all around me. And all I could feel were those two burning sets of eyes scorching my skin, itching, digging and clawing at it with blazing hot, phantasmagorical tentacles.

‘Está durmiendo.’

‘No podemos estar ciertos…’

‘Richard!’

Henry’s voice called out to me. But I didn’t flinch. Didn’t even tense for I was already rigid all over, my muscles strained with the imposible effort of inertness.

I heard some rustling, maybe struggling and her muffled whine. I guess she was trying to stop his shouting. But Henry was a tall, strong young man. She stood no chance against him.

‘Ya, basta, es suficiente.’

Then through the woolly vail of darkness I heard a shriek and a chair scraping along the floor, someone plopping on it unceremoniously.

A clap of a hand hitting another followed by another exclamation of my name. Nothing. Not a reaction. Not a fibre of my body moved.

‘¿Lo ves? Durmiendo, cómo un bebé.’

Cold washed over me as I felt those gazes avert from me, retreating like waves on a shore.

‘Siéntate. Ahora, siéntate y cállate.’

I opened my eyes and was greeted with the sight of two creatures seating across from each other, their eyes like nails pinned to the face of the other.

‘Ya. Estoy sentado, callado. Ahora que.’

‘Ahora quedas callado y hablo yo.’

Two creatures, gods be my witness, not humans! One terribly fragile and small when compared to the other. Clad in a white, shrill dress. Muslin I think, but in the incandescent glow of the fireplace it could as well be weaved from the sheer matter of dreams. Underneath the material, the dark aerial shape of the creature’s body teased with its shape and form. It’s hands folded neatly on the table, slim and slender, the hands of a poet, a pianist, with pronounced bony phalanxes. They laid still, but I was sure that in that moment when the glow of the fire bathed them so brilliantly in orange and gold, if they only moved they would squeeze the most magnificent melody out of the thin air, pulling at the strings of air. The unmoving, rigid silhouette of that shrill musician radiated with a strange, soft glow. A white contra point in the sea of darkness.

And on the other side of the table sat the other creature, a complete and utter opposition to the white nymph. Submerged in darkness, hidden, no!, a part of the shadows in long, black coat and alabaster skin that seemed to absorb and smother every bit of light that came it’s way. Posture relaxed, laid back with one hand splayed on it’s spread knees, the other tossed over the headrest of the chair it was sitting on. But no matter how relaxed the creature tried to look, no matter how it had sat and how nonchalant its coat fell over the seat and onto the floor, nothing could hide the hungry scowl on its face. The glasses slotted onto its devilishly handsome nose reflecting the other creature’s glow, now a liquid pools of fire, twin to the dark eyes hidden behind them. Famine and anger mixed on the Adonis’ face in an expression full of tension.

A tension extended towards the space before it like a wall of conflagration ready to burst and swallow the two beings measuring each other with the stares that could incinerate a mere mortal.

I felt it on my skin, in the roots of my hair, base of my nails. I knew I was witnessing something I shouldn’t have but at the same time I was a stone, hypnotized with the intricate dance of swirling shadows and blazing light.

‘¿Por qué la cara larga, huh, mi cielo?’

The broad-shouldered creature spoke, troubled cynicism prominent in its voice.

‘¿No me harás nada para comer? ¿Beber? Quizás café sería bueno.’

‘Tú café te está esperándote. Tomas lo o nada.’

The old, coffee stained cup stood proudly on the table, as pointed out by her svelte finger. Unmoved, constant. Like a challenge, a condition which had to be fulfilled to continue the negotiations. The male creature uptook it. Reached for it with a steady hand and rose the cup to its perfect, pale lips and grimaced as the cold liquid hit them. It was probably bitter and full of settlings.

With the melodic voice of the feminine creature as it spoke with the same intonation and depth I had been listening to this whole week, but different because packed with emotions I could never harbor the hope to hear directed at me, I felt a strange desire setting into my underbelly. A cruel thing to say, considering the contents of the sentence she vocalized.

‘Me has maldecido. Mutilado.’

The voice trembled and fluttered on the cold air of the flat like the flames in the fireplace. Conflagration. All of it, the air, them, the light and the shadows was a part of the antsy fire swallowing the whole scene.

Henry slid his palm over the table, slowly inching towards her own two folded hands but she shook her head, no, and rushed to hide her finger into the folds of her dress.

Something like agony painted his face with pale, miserable colors, but the shadow came and went and he directed his hand towards the cup once again, but never rose it to his lips.

‘Dándome este título, este título más absurdo- Hysmine! Con tus ojos diabólicos, mirada profunda y esta lengua tuya, me has convertido en una cosa lisiada, inútil para otros, que no hace una cosa más que pensar en ti.’

Henry smiled. Soft, slow and malicious. I could see the satisfaction at that confession painted plainly on his face. Despite that, all this spiteful, bitter energy he exuded I could see what hid beneath his mask. Beneath the cold, indifferent exterior. Because as she spoke, his eyes never diverted from them. His head swayed with the sway of her own, and those dark orbs of liquid magma followed eagerly after the quick purses of her mouth. Mindlessly, and seemingly on a leash, they darted to gape at the soft, pink flesh as if through image they could hear her words. Outside he was an unmovable stone, heartless and stiff. Inside he was but a sorry sailor, thirsty for the honeyed voice of a siren. I felt more than saw that longing in him and couldn’t help but pity him. Pity his ineptitude to convey what he was experiencing, pity the slight hunch forward as if he was ready to lean into her and capture her mouth with his, silencing her, pity him, because he didn’t, and the venomous onslaught from her continued.

I also hated him. Because I knew that she a well was wearing a mask. Different from his, hot and angry, nonetheless, a mask. Only a vail that did not hide well the love she tried to cover.

‘¿Está algo divertido pa’ ti, no? Viendo, oyéndome así. Rota, suplicando por alto el fuego.’

He bore his teeth, hot air seethed through them like smoke escaping a dragon’s mouth. His fists clenched but the rest of him stayed relaxed, just as it was before.

‘Y yo sé porque. Porque estás tan encantado con mi tormento. Todo lo de que consistes lo indica. Estás un hombre cruel. Un hombre lleno de alegría si pueda herir alguien. Te deleitas de herirme.’

A fist slammed into the table, rattling the many bottles that had been set on it.

‘¡¿Y tú?! ¡Que crees que tu me hagas a mi! Pequeña araña astuta. ¡Tejiendo tu red de decepciones y mentiras!’

The soft, white creature jumped at that abrupt shout, sending her chair to the ground, now the eternal flame that blazed in his glasses beaming straight from her face. With brows furrowed she looked as if ready to spill blood.

‘¿Que red? ¿Que mentiras?’

And the dark creature, that dark unrelenting tiger of famine stood up as well, although more gently.

I did not exist in that moment. Some mystic black hole swallowed my whole being, suspended me in the luminal space of their quarrel. Only sound and image came to me and I gave nothing back. I broke from them and then I broke from myself. I’ve never felt so broken like in that moment, when those two fiery sets of eyes tasked each other with gazes full of fury and desire. It was grotesque, pure, pure grotesque. A ritual or a dance of gods i really should not have been witnessing. That thought rattled around my brain, suffocated me as I watched still. The fire coming off of them clogging my airways, pushing on my chest and larynx. Those were two titans exuding a godly glow of passionate wrath I was not equipped to withstand.

I could see the strain of their muscles with a frightening detail. The vein pulsing on the dark creature’s neck, the sweat pooling over the brows of the other.

They both hurt, ached for each other but first they had to dance. Scream their inner hurt in the face of the other. They had to empty themselves, to become the dish in which the other could spill their essence.

I felt it. To me, it was inevitable, coming their way in swooping, stomping steps, like death, but much more menacing and dangerous.

‘Oh, no te hagas la tonta. No bromees conmigo. No me digas, que Richard queda aquí, durmiendo sobre la sofa tuya, comiendo la comida tuya y bebiendo las bebidas que le ofreces por pura coincidencia. No me digas, que has permitido a Francis a entrar a tu piso y ver a Richard sólo porque no sabías nada mejor.’

Now she was breathing pure fire, staring daggers at him as she leaned over the table and pointed an accusatory finger at his chest.

‘Come on baby, you’re too smart for a slip-up like that.’

‘Richard queda aquí porque esto es lo que había deseado. Porque me has abandonado. Porque tenía hablar con alguien.’

‘¡Por dios! ¿Hablar? ¿Con Richard? ¿De que? ¿Que? ¿Tú Diogenes? ¿Le dijiste las todas ideas tuyas, como las habías dicho a mi? ¿Esta libertad que anhelas tanto? ¿Amor? ¿Le dijiste todo esto?’

As he spoke he leaned over the table as well, his built much threatening than hers.

‘Estás celoso.’

Her voice came out weak. He nodded his head eagerly. Almost too eagerly. And then I realized he was cackling, mocking her.

‘Por supuesto.’

‘Estas borracho.’

Another nod.

‘¿Y tú?’

He craned his neck over her, pulling himself over her and standing on his tiptoes to cast a grand shadow over her. His eyes searched her face for something. All he found were those beautiful half-lidded eyes, full of some animalistic satisfaction. And a promiscuous challenge, so different from the long-forgotten cup.

‘You piss me off so much. You think you’re so smart don’t you? Oh, so, so smart. My Henry and his books. His rules. His honor.’

Her lips were a thin, furious line and her teeth stayed clenched throughout this whole little speech and she looked as if she was practicing ventriloquism.

On the other side of the table, supporting himself on two, wide-spread fists he stood, bearing the same tight-lipped grimace.

And oh god, only then did I realize that everything they did, everything they were was a mirror image of the other. Sometimes distorted, reversed, upside-down or discolored but still, the same. Like the two parts of one whole they mimicked each other, seeped and bleed through one another like a grotesque cocktail of souls.

‘Oh, poor Camilla, she loves me so! Oh, my dear friend Bunny, whom I can’t stand, who is so, so tactless, such a sorry fellow! And I, Henry am obviously responsible for them! Because if I’m not in control then who am I?’

‘Shut up! You know that it’s more than that! That it’s the matter of more than just honor, that this is about order, about doing what’s right!’

‘Oh, you and your fucking order can go to hell! I’ve had enough already! If I could I would send you there right here and now! I wish I could kill you, maybe then I would rid myself of this disease that cripples me so.’

Something stirred in the dark boy at the table. I saw it in the clench of his jaw, his fists.

When I was still a young kid, my mother took me to the local zoo. There were baboons there, zebras, turtles and elephants. But most importantly - tigers were there as well. I saw them from afar, orange, black-stripped, dirty and famished. I think they were most agitated by the crowds that gathered in the zoo on that day. Or it was too hot for them in the glass enclosure. I don’t know. What I do know is that I watched them, I watched as the two fully grown males lunged at each other, clawed and bit to draw blood. I saw their muscles straining when they broke from each other and prepared themselves for yet another jump and continuation of the battle. Most barbaric primal example of rage. Most pure, unadulterated, carnal.

I was small, very young when I saw those tiger clash, but I know for a fact that I would never be able to erase it from my memory.

I know that, because as soon as I saw the dark creature’s muscle tense and soon as I saw him putting his back up, the image of fighting tigers popped into my head and I knew something terrible was going to happen. Something violent.

And I wasn’t wrong because the next thing that occurred was as gruesome and vile as those two enclosed animals.

The male creature shot forward with a lightning-speed movement and grabbed one of the bottles displayed before him. With a force fueled by anger he smashed the green glass over the corner of the table, simultaneously grabbing the ethereal, white being’s hand forcing it to stay in place. Next thing I knew he was pushing the broken neck of the bottle into her hand and pulling it dangerously close to his arteries.

‘Then kill me. I beg you kill me and free me from this torment that you burden me with by your mere existence.’

Crazed malice swirled in his overblown pupils.

‘You kill me either way. Every day. Your hair, your eyes, your voice. They are like poison, slowly dissolving me into nothingness. You think you’re crippled by me? Cursed? You’re so selfish to think that I do not hurt! That I do not ache for you! That I do not pull my hair at the thought that I’m throwing my chance with you away just because of Bunny! Fuck Bunny! Fuck Camilla! Fuck the whole lot of them! Kill me! Burn me! Throw me into the annals of time, forget me and let me be forgotten! But be swift because if you’re not mine, then I cannot do this any longer. Come on! What are you doing, stop resisting! Push the goddamn glass into my neck!’

She squirmed and pulled against his hold. I saw her struggle in panic as she tried to wretch her wrist from him, to pry his fingers open, but he was a strong man. Far too ambitious opponent for her when it came to physical prowess.

‘You fucker let go! Let go I tell you!’

Now neither of them concerned themselves with keeping quiet. She tossed and screamed while he urged her to lounge the neck of the bottle through him.

‘Kill me, come on! Be a strong, free woman! Break the taboo, kill me and break your chains!’

It was too quick, too chaotic, too familiar. They swayed in a mush of colors and frantic screams and frankly I was to stunned by this sudden outburst to do anything. Suddenly the atmosphere of intimate, hushed, illicit affair vanished and a new, gruesome scene of horror took its place.

‘Kill me because I burn every day with a conflagration, a thirst I cannot quench, I cannot comprehend and it’s too grand, too big for me to live with! Kill my physical form the same way you murder my soul!’

‘No! You…!’

In a last-ditch effort she threw herself onto the table and grabbed the discarded mug with coffee still splashing inside of it. With a ratchet scream she twisted like a spring and for a second I thought she was going to bash his head in with the mug. I closed my eyes. But then I heard the splash. And a silent curse, coming from him. And the sound of glass dropping to the floor, followed by a low, animalistic exhale more akin to the last breath of a dying animal that anything.

It was her breath. Once again the image of bloodied tigers flashed over the surface of my eyelids.

Silence.

I opened my eyes, reluctantly, afraid of what I might see next. But it wasn’t as bad as I had expected. It did not resemble the blood bath that I had witnessed at the zoo.

It was just her, with her hair tangled in a terrible disarray, with chest heaving, back hunched and cheeks stained with deep blush of effort. But nothing more. No blood. No scratches. Just the furrow of her face. And the terrifying glint of her canines.

And him. In one piece as well, although less dignified than a minute before. More… wet.

The coffee from the mug she was still holding in her trembling hand, now on him. Dripping from his hair, smudged over his glasses, prominently brown on his white dress shirt.

Finally she managed to open the fingers of his hand and pull away. Her lips trembled with unrestrained anger when she spoke.

‘Fuck you.’

And a terrible, stretched silence fell over the timeline of this event. Longer than a century, deeper than the Marian Trench. And then all hell broke loose. A true calamity befell that flat in the split second, longer than a lifetime, from when she spoke those words, to when the both of them lunged forward, to meet each other in an ironclad grip.

It was like a snap of a twig, like a sudden explosion.

Suddenly those two ethereal beings donned the robes of mortal flesh, and crushed to the earth as they crumbled over the table, smashing their bodies together, clashing their mouths, clasping their hands over each other. They jumped right into the flames, let themselves be indulged by the fire and breached the final frontier separating them and they caught ablaze in an instant, blinding me.

Without a warning, I was watching two animals clawing at each other again, although in a different far mor terrifying for me manner. I was used to the violence, the spur of a moment appetite for destruction. But not this. Not that fevered, blazing desire that belched from their bodies the moment they caught contact. The dark tiger grasping at the luminescent, white hips and pulling the dreamy light figure onto the table and jumping over her seconds after.

Alabaster hand shooting up, knocking over the many bottles to gain more space and push it’s prey higher. Her groaning at the deafening smash and her attempt to look my way, but fruitless, because of the same hand that caused the mess of the broken glass and alcohol dripping all over the table and floor grabbed her face and forcing her to look at its proprietary.

It all happened before me, unraveled with an unimaginable speed that rendered me rigid and taunt. It was like watching a building crumble down to the ground in a mushroom of dust and explosives. Grand, sublime, unstoppable, full of force and violent destruction.

‘You’re mine. Look at me. Not him.’

‘He might’ve woken up. He might see.’

‘Let him see. Let him see what true freedom looks like, my Diogenes.’

I inhaled an unhealthy amount of air tinged with spiritus and fire. My lungs burned.

He fell over her, completely covering her shrill form. His coat bunched and draped over them like a cape, Aegis. His hands shot up to her head, to her arms, gathering her beneath him in a greedy, selfish gesture as if to hide her from the rest of the world. To capture her amongst his shadows and never let anyone glance at her luminescent brilliance ever again.

His hand wandered into the skirt of her dress, swiped slowly to the apex of her tights. He did something with the palm of his hand, I think he pressed it to her, I wouldn’t know, but she must’ve thought it an absolutely divine experience, for her body tensed as she jumped up in his hold and then fell, completely slack onto the table. Her mouth agape in a silent scream.

Henry’s dark hair fell over her forehead as he dipped his head to kiss her neck. She moaned, the most beautiful, soul capturing sound I have ever heard. Coffee dripped in a brown drizzle from his hair onto her.

He continued his ministrations with his hand and she appeared to be utterly helpless against his skilled fingers, only able to pant and moan, to blush and sweat as she ground her hips against it.

Their lips almost touched as he hovered over her, inches away, brushing the tender, pink skin against each other, agape and wet. They breathed each other in, let the other inhale the air, the strained moans the one was eliciting from the other.

And then he hummed and an electric bolt surged through me because I realized that she had laced her fingers with that dark main of his, pulling at it, gripping it like a rosary.

My eyes followed the slight bounce of her breasts with an intent and slightly hypnotised awe.

For a second he stopped, halting her upcoming rise to the summit, which was greeted with a displeased grunt from her.

‘Let him see, and let yourself feel how I ache for you.’

And he reached that hand, that soaked, glistening hand to his head, to untangle her fingers from his hair and to guide it down, to the dark folds of his clothing.

She let out a surprised gasp, and he breathed a satisfied laugh.

‘I know sweetness, I know.’

Now her hand was moving slightly, far away from my prying gaze, but there was no denying, no sugarcoating what she was doing. It was all written in his blissed out expression, in the tilt of his head, movement of his Adam’s apple, that struggled immensely to swallow the overflow of saliva.

‘Oh my sweet girl. My skilled little treat.’

His lips fell onto her temple, showering it with quick, fiery kisses.

‘You are doing so well sweetness.’

Gradually, the kisses became longer, lingering lower on her face till they reached her red-hot ear. With a lick of his tongue he squared up and whispered something into it, too low for me to hear, also, too obvious not to guess. She nodded, without a word, she gave him the permission. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a happier man.

Only then did Henry push slightly off her and slipped his pants down, not too low, only enough to free himself from their tight confines. Finally free, he came back to the warmth of her body, his eyes searching her face, hers, full of longing and pleading. Something like a string of understanding shot through then and from that point on there was no stoping Henry, no stoping her.

He lunged forward, sending her a few inches across the table. They both screamed.

Two parts of a whole, finally one. They had to halt themselves to revel in that sudden unity. But no matter how stubborn and vicious Henry was, she towered over him with impatience. Her hips buckled up.

‘Move.’

‘Your wish is my command, princess.’

And yes, he gave in. He moved.

God, I watched them writhe together, two of them clasped as one. His lips danced over her skin, her cheeks, her nose, her neck, god her beautiful, swan neck, her collarbones, leaving wet, loud smooches in the air. That was a melody, a wild dance of abandon, of decadence. The way she grasped onto his coat as if for her dear life, the way he smushed her into the table, pushed her closer to him, roamed his slender hands over her body and bunched her white dress around her waist. Their every move was full of reverence, a strange carefulness enchanted into every gesture as if the other was made of porcelain. And yet they gripped and tugged and scratched. It was a clash of light with darkness. Battle between gentleness and brutish force. The table rattled beneath them as her long, doe legs shot up to wrap around his midsection. His pelvis smashed into hers and they both screamed with delight.

‘Oh…! You’re mine.’

I have never heard Henry so out of control, so pathetic. I have never seen him in that total disarray that had suddenly overtook him as he ground into her.

‘Mine to have and to hold.’

God, I could see his reddened face, strained with effort, disfigured by the throws of passion. His arms twisted around her like the lithe twigs of ivy. His massive form obscured her from me, like the vine obscures the walls, the windows, the doors of old buildings.

‘Fuck you.’

Their shadows casted by the flinching light of the fireplace loomed over them on the walls. In a scale at least three times bigger than themselves, the shadows danced, mirrored their every move forming a dark-figure painting over the walls of the apartment.

His glasses feel from his nose onto her chest and she grabbed at them with a quick, pale flash of her hand. She pulled them over her own nose.

‘Am I yours?’

A particularly sharp jerk of his hips shook the table and knocked over the rest of the bottles that salvaged themselves from the previous massacre.

‘What do you think?’

Her tongue, pink and sweet, lolled out as she sent him the most salacious of smiles.

‘Am I, Hysmine?’

A thrust and then another.

The waves of her hair crushed in the air with every move filling my ears with the oceanic roar of my heart. Her head rushed forward falling over the edge of the table, pushed by the force at which Henry was abusing the apex of her tighs. Her neck stretched and strained under the force of gravity and the bluish veins popped impossibly vivid under her skin.

‘My Hysmine, tell me.’

Her eyes were half-lidded, too heavy to lift them, too blissed out to control the rapid flutter of them. Her face flushed, contorted in an utterly beautiful, bordering on painful, grimace.

And he… gods he was demolished, completely starstruck, drunk on pleasure, on her. She opened her mouth, probably trying to squeeze some coherent answer from the depths of her throat, but it seemed that he no longer cared for any response as he longed his tongue between her parted lips in a loud, salacious kiss.

‘God, you’re devine.’

Her name slipped from his lips like a prayer as he lunged into a litany of strained breaths and quiet ‘oh gods’.

He reveled in her touch, in the feel of her naked skin against his.

‘Tell me you’re mine.’

Triumph bloomed across his face when she reached for his face, cupped it with utter devotion and thoughtfulness. He was a conqueror, glorious champion marching under the triumphal arch of her thighs, accompanied with the procession of her moans.

‘I… I am…,’ she trailed off, her head lolling to the side and eyes rolling into her skull.

‘I am…’ She wasn’t able to finish.

One of her legs rose slowly, scraping the sole of her feet over the surface of the table. Her knee bent and stuck to his ribs, as if searching for some form of support and the other leg feel from Henry’s waist, right next to his thigh. Only then did I see the slight tremble of it. The uncertain shake, that should not be there, for its painful almost, poisoning nature. His leg was giving out, and with it, the whole pace of his movements crumbled, became erratic and stained with ache. A spasm shook his muscles and he groaned, but not with pleasure, like he did before, but with a gut-wrenching hurt. Chills shook my own body at hearing this screech, like an animal getting butchered, a bird struck in the middle of its flight. Henry has been soaring through the skies, yes, but with a broken wing, a hurting leg, there was no other option for him that quilt, nosedive into a disappointing finish for the both of them. He could hold himself up, keep the pace no longer. I could see that in the furrow of his brows, the tilted backwards, pained face. And I could not feel happier. Satisfaction bubbled up in my stomach, came up to my throat tickling it, forcing a malicious cackle to come out. But I knew I could not laugh yet. Not when I saw what she was doing.

She was a clever girl, observant, even when engulfed by the flames of passion. Her smart eyes, still covered with mist of lust, darted over Henry, analyzed his every move, every little strain of his muscles, every small furrow and twitch of his lips. She knew his limits, she knew him better than anyone else. And although I felt disappointed to see the marvel shining in her eyes at all of that, I could not help but also admire her for what she did next. Her body twisted like a corpus of snake, with precision and calculated grace. Her knee, the one that she had supported against Henry’s hips soared up, fitted right into the pit of his arm and pushed, while the other, placed at his thigh swiped it from beneath him. Her slender hands pushed at his shoulders and in this one swift second their bodies switched places as they fell to the side, slipped from the surface of the table and to the ground. Henry’s back hit the floor with a terrifying impact that shook his whole body, engulfed it with spasms as the crunch of smashed glass filled my ears. Still conjoined they screamed as her hips smashed into his. Pain mixed with utmost pleasure.

The white dress now bunched around her curled up knees, falling over Henry’s figure just like his coat fell over hers before, although, as it was with every similarity or contrast between those two, her way of doing things stayed more subtle, far less offensive than his. She wasn’t an ivy obscuring and covering everything in its wake. She wasn’t selfish, brutish or possessive. Rather, as I watched her back straighten and peal off him, as her hands bunched the stained, previously white, dress shirt into her slim, long fingers, all I could read from her was an absolute and unquestionable control and certainty of the power she held. Contrary to Henry she was gently sure of all the intentions flaring in the room. Her clothes not an importunate shadow but the soft petals of a flower. She herself, not a tiger but a white lily. And Henry lied helplessly beneath that miracle of nature with arms splayed on both of his sides like Yeshua in his last moments, a martyr of carnal pleasure.

His slim fingers curled around anything, just to ease the pain of the impact, unfortunately all they found was the shattered glass. Blood trickled from beneath his clenched fists as he grit his teeth with fury.

‘Move…’

Now he was the desperate, jittery, needy one.

‘No.’

And a sly, poisonous grin bloomed on her face, the same grin I saw earlier painting his physiognomy, when she was pleading her case to him.

‘Not until you ask me nicely.’

‘Pretty girl, don’t make me…’

Her fists slammed into him, still holding the browned material of his shirt with such a breathtaking force I had to bite the soft flesh inside my cheek not to whine alongside Henry. I heard an uncomfortable sound of linen reaping, followed by a porcelain stutter of buttons hitting the ground, joining the shattered glass and pools of spilled alcohol.

‘I am not your pretty girl.’

She said, with the air of unforced superiority around her whole being. Without even trying, without even modulating her voice she sounded so demanding and so authoritative that I doubt that anyone would dare to oppose that statement. Least to say Henry, who at the sound of those words appeared to shrink and scorn in shame.

‘I am your god. And I deserve to be treated as such.’

Her hands let go of the shirt and started to roam over his exposed chest. I saw how his pale, alabaster skin covered with goosebumps at that touch, how he arched his back to press himself some more against her. But she was to smart to let him revel in that moment, and so she leaned back, prying herself from him, denying him the touch he so much craved and let the only point of their bodies to stay together be their hips. Unmoving, tortuously still.

‘So now plead. Beg your goddess, Henry.’

Her teeth shined viciously in the dim light. How wrong I was to ever think her a flower. No, that was a predator far scarier, ferocious than whatever tiger Henry could’ve ever wished for to be. This was Bellona, Venus, Durga. She did not fear the tiger. She mounted it.

‘You snooze, you loose, sweetness.’

There was this mocking, cruel note to her now that twisted something in me, twitched in my fingers, blazed in my stomach. Something that also spoke to the sorry fellow splayed under her, as his eyes burned with a shameless famine.

Power soared through her veins, resounded in her voice, slept in her stillness. Henry saw that. I guess he always knew, or at least suspected that before. Maybe that’s why he kept coming back to her. That’s why he felt so strongly compelled to be near her, smell her, see her all around him. Maybe that’s why he bugged her so at her apartment, why he cornered her on that day at Francis’, why he came over now. But he was as stubborn as she was. His fiery, unbent, unbroken soul twin to hers. And when fire meets fire, nothing good comes out of it.

And that’s why, when I heard her rules for the continuation of the eve, when he pressed his lips into a thin line, for a second I thought this was the end. That he was too proud to surrender. Too stock-up, far too stubborn to give in. But then he sighed, a pity-inducing, agonised sigh, and with visible effort he spoke. Weak, that’s how he sounded. Weak and terribly submissive, nothing like Henry I knew. To be fair though I had never put an ultimatum like she did forward to him.

‘Please…’

‘What? I cannot hear you.’

‘I beg you… sweet girl, please…’

‘Please what?’

‘Please, ride me, Thalestris.’

Her knees scraped the glass-littered floor when she finally shifted. Some blood spilled in magnificent, ruby beads and trickled down to mix with the dirty maroon of the blood coming off of Henry’s maimed hands.

Her head fell back and a pearly, beautiful laugh bounced off the walls of the flat.

‘Your wish is my command, Alexander.’

And then she moved, for real this time. One, two, three thrusts. First, he bit into his cheek, hard, and another streak of blood joined the pool on the floor, that one coming from the corner of his mouth. But he could not hold his voice nor his hips in check for long. Just like hers, his head fell backward and his chest expanded with a raptured whine.

‘Yes, my goddess, yes, please, please, please.. ahhh!’

His hips buckled upwards into her, sending her body up into the air, straining it. When she fell back down I discovered that now they were working together, moving in perfect harmony as if they’d done that a thousand times before, knowledgable in the pleasure of the other. Each of them pushed at each other, swayed to the melodic sound of their delight and rushed to the precipice, completely swallowed by the ambition to propel the other off the edge.

Henry’s pleas filled my ears like a mantra and soon I’m not sure if I recognised or even knew any other words than those of that desperate mendicancy.

Their race continued as Henry’s hands floated up her bouncing figure, squeezed her hips, even guided the for a while, eliciting the most beautiful sounds from her, floating higher, to her chest, leaving rust-coloured stains on her impecable, white dress, pulling at the material to finally free her from it. To my greatest disappointment I did not manage to see much from that perfect display of beauty, as Henry shot up almost immediately to cup her breasts into his bloodied hands, to latch onto her pebbled nipples.

In response, she clasped her palms around his nape in a protective gesture you could only witness in nature.

My eyes dug into the wide shoulders of Henry. I tried counting the many glass shards clinging onto the dark wool of his coat. But all I could hear, all I could focus on was that obscene sound of his tongue on her.

‘Oh Henry, just like that. Your doing so well. Such a good, pious devotee.’

He mumbled something into her chest, intangible and without any sense of superior touch to his words. But she laughed, truly happy chortle escaped her mouth as he slid his arms to her back, cradling her spine, her neck into him. He clung to her form, desperate, almost scared to loosen up his hold as if his arms were the only thing grounding her in him. As if any minute she was ready, destined to evaporate, disappear like camphor.

‘Yes. I am yours. Your goddess, yours and only yours. To worship. To pray to. To please.’

With every sentence she sped up her pace, bounced in his lap. Until tremors shook her body, until she whined and pulled him impossibly close to her, until he as well reached the crest of his pleasure and in unison they climbed and lunged into the climax.

Never did he let go of her, of her clothes, tore his cheek from her chest. Half-sitting, desperately jolting his hips, it seemed he lost himself in that brilliant, white apparition. His world narrowed only to her and when he finally arrived at the end of their ride, I could only see a fogged-up, almost love struck expression gracing his features. Nothing else.

And then she screamed for the final time, contorted in a strange cramp that overtook her whole body and crushed down straight into him. His back gave out and they both smashed once again to the floor.

I fisted the blanket covering me. I gritted my teeth.

Sweaty and a mess, they finally separated. She rolled off his chest, onto the ground, onto her back. Her blank stare seemed to be searching the ceiling. Analysing every tentacle of shadow that caressed the soft, white paint. And he looked at her, twisted his soar neck and measured her half-naked form with utter acclaim and pride.

Slowly, their breaths evened. Even slower, she started to rearrange her clothing, smoothing her hair out, standing up.

He still laid there, spent and satisfied, he watched as she put the chairs into their places, picked the shattered bottles up. After a while he stood up as well, buttoned his pants, shoved the battered shirt into them. And as he came closer to her, embraced her from the back, as she was coming back from the sink and for more glass to collect, he fitted his face into the crook of her neck, nuzzled into her hair.

‘Oh, what is that smell? I know, I know. This is the smell of love my little songbird.’

And he chuckled into those sweated-up curls, inhaled her some more, just purely delighted that he was able to do that.

‘The smell of me on my beloved…’

She stiffened and then, with the greatest triumph and glee I realised that this was the moment I have been waiting for. The sudden explosion, the claw in artery, jaws of a wild cat clasping around the neck of the other.

She turned on the hills of her feet in his grasp to face him. And he must’ve read that as an invitation to talk some more, because he cupped her cheeks into his hands and rested his forehead on hers. Delicate, he was so surprisingly, so surreally gentle with her.

‘I love you,’ he breathed. And she said nothing. Just took his hands off her face, stepped back and looked at him with those big, watery eyes of hers. Never narrowed when she looked at him, always bright and somehow melancholic. Sadness swelled in them as she put some more distance between herself and Henry.

‘I think you should go now.’

Henry did not understand. Quickly he devoured the meter of dirty, slippery floor that devided them and once again he latched onto her, pulling her arms.

‘Sweetness, did you… did you not hear? I told you I loved you.’

‘I heard you very clearly, dearest. And I told you to leave.’

‘But…’

‘Leave.’

A pause and a strained breath came from her, as if what she was going to say next hurt her even more than it could ever hurt him.

‘You do not love me. If you did, we would not be here, Richard would not be here, we would not look and feel like we do right now. So don’t lie like that to me. Don’t lie poorly.’

I think those words were sharper, harder than any knife known to mankind. And when pushed right into the soft, exposed chest of a man confessing his love, they stabbed at him with morbidly perfect aim.

‘Leave.’

I thought I saw her lip tremble. I thought I saw his eyes go from hungry, to stunned, so wet. But I could not be sure. All I know is that in the next minute, all of that fire, that warmth that not so long ago raged in the room, vanished.

With trembling hands he reached towards her, this time however, not for her, but for the glasses that still sat on her nose. With the way she leaned towards him, with her pursed lips I knew that she did not mean what she had said. That she only raused Henry up, gave him an opportunity. Paradoxically, an opportunity to fight and to stay. To prove himself and linger with her in the pleasant heat forever.

I knew that because I was a liar. She knew that because it was her lie. But Henry was not naturally disposed to conquer the game of half-truths as we were. He did not pick up or did not want to pick up on what she was quite plainly putting down before him.

‘Very well then. Good night to you.’

He bowed, shallow and quick goodbye and he was off, walking through the door, he himself disappearing in the greyish aura of the morn.

She stood unmoved where he had left her, arms hugging her tight midsection, chin snug to her chest.

Her fingers wandered mindlessly over the red smudges on her dress. And when the hills that clicked irregularly against the steps of the staircase, and then outside of the apartment, against the pavement seated their rhythm. When the steps of a strained legs ceased, only then did she move.

A red circuirla shape started to appear above her left breast, just where her heart would be. With its jagged edges sharply imprinted dips in her skin I could only suspect it to be a bite mark.

Quick like wind she rushed towards the door, pulled at it with a hurry so desperate, so agonising, my heart sang for her she too dashed from the apartment.

The moment the darkness of the corridor swallowed her I jumped off the couch. I felt tired, stiff and all too clumsy to do anything and yet I run up to the window. Cold air enwrapped me, clarity suddenly seeping into my mind.

The world outside did not look like I remembered it.

White caps of snow covered everything and anything that might’ve been there before. The sky was sharp, crispy, despite its obscure colouring. The smell of cold yet unstained with fumes and smoke filled my nose. No birds in sight. No living soul. It was as if during the night the whole world transformed into a barren wasteland. As if they themselves, Henry and her, brought a calamity of hoarfrost upon the globe. Mountains and peaks of shimmery white gobbled up the whole landscape leaving in its wake only one set of steps leading away from the apartment.

And the singular living being, a shrill, small girl clad in white. No longer a goddess or a nymph or a feral animal. Just a girl. Kneeling in the snow, throwing herself into it desperately, wrestling with it loose consistency, clawing at it.

Through the warm comfort of the flat I watched her jerking in the snow like a fish fresh out of water, gasping for air.

I think she was screaming, although I tried to tone this out. No matter how much I hated Henry right then, I much preferred the screams he elicited from her than those pained, tormented wails.

A catharsis fell over her in that snow, I thought, as I watched her toss and turn, throw her hands up furiously into the air, sending a copious amount of white into it. She was kicking and biting at the only thing she could hurt, leave her angry mark of her broken heart. She did not leave one on Henry, like he did on her, but she sure as hell could leave one on the innocent, insentient snow.

Her face turned to me for a second and I saw wet trails slipping from the reddened cheeks. The thrown-up snow gathered in her hair, upon her shoulders, her back and as it came in contact with her heated skin it melted almost instantaneously. But those wet marks on her face, those silver trails as illuminated by the rays of rising sun were no traces of melting snow. Those were tears.

I stood there a little bit longer, to make sure she was all right, but as I saw her gather herself up from her knees and back into the staircase of the building I rushed back onto the couch.

#bunny corcoran #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #francis abernathy #henry winter #henry winter x reader #richard papen #the secret history #afab reader

[babyybuggaboo]

IT Fic ideas/ mini plots? blurbs? i’m posting this for @def-livv ! i also will give anyone like use of anything from this, feel free to take the ideas and make some good stories or rewrite some of the things i’ve written. they’re not bad but not great either but i hope you enjoy these things i’ve written ! also note that these were for me to remember stuff i’ve imagined in my head so sorry if there’s notes that don’t make sense to you or if the stories have little to no good detail and yeah whatever! enjoy it or don’t :P

Having nightmares about IT before he came back in 1989, and stopping him from killing everyone (hero mc and no bad stuff happens other than bowers gang thinking mc is crazy:/ /sad

being friends with the bowers gang and throughout a few months they all realize they like mc and all hide it from each other but also they all go after mc. they do have fights but it’ll end up poly probably

mc likes patrick, patrick “likes” mc and thinks she may be real but is very wishy washy with her, one day he’s all over her, next day he couldn’t give a shit (to mess with her) but is still very possessive. stuck in the middle vibes

henry likes mc, says they’re dating and mc is pretty sweet and kinda goes along with it thinking he’ll get bored. henry and mc fall in love and he starts changing (getting nicer, understanding he shouldn’t be abused and that it’s not right) she gets him to slowly move into her house with her and her parents and they sorta adopt him and show him what a real family is like. saving his life/raising him right au

boys hardcore bully mc but she’s a little bit yandere and is inlove with patrick/henry/all of them (whatever i’m feeling ig) they catch some jocks messing with her one day and all kinda think “that’s our victim!” and protect her, making her fall more in love and they slowly slowly slowly start to get softer towards her. bullies/victim to friends to lovers vibe

this is a blurb blurb/imagine vibe

mc is henry’s neighbour and in the winter sees him shoveling his big driveway all by himself so her and her dad go over with a snow blower and shovel to help. melts his heart a little bit ;) gentle mother!figure/ guardianangel!reader type vibes

also little headcanons for some plots:

- avery was never killed. so patrick isn’t at psychotic or deranged but still a jerk to his bro (who’s about 9-10) so about a 10 year age gap (depending on how old you want pat, i obviously picture him aged up and LEGAL!!!!!!!)

- vic has 2 older sisters

- henry has a soft spot for mc

- most of the time bowers gang can’t say no to mc

- when they go into town (like the movies or arcade) mc always runs ahead of the boys to give the losers club (if they happen to be there, they usually are) a heads up so they can scatter before the bowers gang rains terror

- reggie let’s mc practice driving stick shift in amy

- vic is the one mc trusts the most and they get along the most, they like similar things and he’ll keep secrets for mc (most of the time)

- in order of who mc trusts from most to least it’s: vic, reggie, henry, patrick

- mc loves to cuddle and innocently will pick one of the boys to cuddle with and tends to fall asleep on them. (they did draw on her face once or twice. jerks) but after knowing mc for a while, the boys started fighting over who mc sat with and would make plans to get mc to choose them

- mc is extremely loyal and gives entire heart into whoever mc cares about (the boys, mostly patrick, will exploit that) but mc does have limits and pushes back sometimes when they inevitably take things too far

- an “oc” who is matteo riddle 🤪 is the neighbour across from mc and they’re good buddies. he’s mainly for plot so mc has one friend outside of bowers gang

- sometimes, on days where the boys don’t force mc to hang out, she finds herself with the losers club. they’re funny and sweet and it gives mc a break, they’re refreshing. she spends most of the time talking to beverly, it’s nice to have a girl to talk to… and complain about the boys to.

- mc parents i usually picture are joy summers and rupert giles from buffy the vampire slayer. they are comfort parents and giles is a step-dad and mc has a jackass biological dad mc does not talk to. (for plot, mc has daddy issues too. helps to connect with henry)

- mc gets henry into drumming (safer way to get the anger out) he gets pretty good pretty quickly

- plot/blurb

the boys have a bet to see who can get mc to like them first

bowers gang along with their newer addition, are driving along and of course, the boys are bickering.

“we should go here!”

“no this place is way better! drive us there belch”

“fuck off! we’re going to this spot!”

reggie looks in the rear view mirror at mc, “where would you like to go mc?”

mc looks up at him, smiles shyly and thinks.

“maybe the big arcade? that’s in the next town? that could be fun! we don’t have to though” mc recoils in their seat, making themselves small.

reggie smiles, then it turns into a smirk as he looks at the boys, he’s so gonna win this, “ arcade it is darlin’”

—

at the arcade, they all spread out finding stuff to play. reggie and vic find the muscle man hammer game, patrick finds kids to scare and steal their tokens from, and mc follows henry, who has found the astro starfighter game (where you shoot meteors).

henry keeps losing and losing the game, then losing his temper, “fuck! fuck! fuck! this game is so fucking stupid and it’s a piece of shit” he starts kicking it. mc is laughing their guts out, they think henry is so funny, (they don’t really know him yet). “what the fuck are you laughing at?!” henry yells, mc wipes the tears from their eyes, giggles still bubbling out, “you’re just funny!… and so bad at this game! hahaha! it’s cute” mc laughs again. henry doesn’t know how to react, he’s being made fun of, but mc is so sweet about it and he knows they’re not being mean. before he can say anything, mc places a hand on his arm, “let me try!” and steps in drop of the game. “hmmm. henry? what should i get if i win?” mc asks coyly (or cheekily, but i think coyly). henry thinks for a seconds, then smirks, “i’ll give you a kiss” he says with a wink. he knows he’s going to win this bet. “oh gee! a kiss from henry bowers? i better be good!” mc grins and turns back to the game. they play for a while, getting higher and higher in the levels, mc finally gets to the boss level, “oh my god! oh my god! fuck you! i got you you’re so done you stupid ship!” (i think it also has aliens in it?) mc is blasting and blasting and! an asteroid hit them… they died. “no! aw are you kidding i was so close!” mc said disappointed, “damn it! that’s fuckin rigged” henry said, made he won’t get to kiss mc, but it comes off as him being on their side, they should’ve won!

mc turns to henry and kisses his cheek. henry is shocked, but tries to hide it. not well. “thanks for motivating me” mc says with a smile, already over losing that amazing play through. henry feels proud, he did motivate mc didn’t he. they wanted to kiss him and that’s why they tried so hard. it made him feel good, feel important and needed. that was the first moment he started really falling for mc.

they then wandered over to patrick, to drag him away from the poor children, got reg and vic, and went over to the skee ball, where they cheated and got a bunch of tickets and tried to pick a prize for mc all again, bickering.

“mc would like that bunny! get the bunny”

“no get the tiger! it’ll make em think of me!”

“get the skull head. it’s sick.”

“what about that cow! mc always points them out”

this time vic is the one to turn to mc, “which one would you like? pick one!” he says excitedly albeit aggressively.

“well, the bunny is pretty cute” mc says, the guy at the counter turns and grabs the bunny off the shelf and hands it to mc. vic grins, he knew they’d like the bunny. he walks up to mc and puts his arm around their shoulder, “that thing is pretty dang cute huh, like you” he says, mc looks up at him and laughs a little, shaking their head. “you’re a dork” mc says, but there’s a slight blush on their face. “alright let’s go. i’m fuckin’ hungry” henry says, breaking up the sweet moment between friends. they walk out the arcade and head home. on the car ride home, mc falls asleep on patrick’s shoulder, cuddling the bunny. they all glance at mc, so innocent. they all glance at each other and though it isn’t said out loud, the bet is off, and the games are on. may the best man win. (mc’s heart that is (; )

-henry had never had tacos before (half because of neglect, half because the bitch is racist) but one time mc invites him over for dinner, after hearing that he has never had tacos, which is atrocious. mc was horrified and jokingly tried to hold henry bowers, wrapping her arms around his neck, and petting his ratty mullet, calling him a dear poor thing. he pushed her away and told her to fuck off. mc laughed it off as she usually does, staying light-hearted and unoffended. and says that she’ll see him at 6.

6 o’clock arrives, and so does henry. as he walks through the door of mc’s house, he is hit with a (waff?) of spices and meat, it smelled delicious. he walks into the kitchen with mc and there stands her mom finishing up the lettuce and tomatoes. “mom, henry’s here!” mc said to her mother. mc’s mom turns around and greets him warmly, “oh hello henry! nice to finally meet you! grab a plate, we’re ready to get started” she smiles and goes to wash off her hands in the kitchen sink. mc and henry grab a plate and walk over to the kitchen counter where all the food is laid out for them. sour cream, salsa, hot sauce, rice, grated cheese, lettuce, tomato and guac! the beef steaming in the pan still on the stove, fresh off the burner. mc starts making her taco and henry just watches. mc noticed and smiles, “henry are you gonna make a taco? or just stand there looking devilishly handsome?” mc says with a wink. she loved to flirt with him jokingly, that way it wasn’t real and her feelings couldn’t be hurt. it was easier that way. he rolls his eyes at mc while scoffing, but then frowns slightly, “i don’t know what to put on it” mc blinks, “oh! i’ll make it for you!” mc starts making him two tacos, one with everything on it (the delicious one) and a plain one, with just meat and cheese (picky eaters choice) “try this one first. it’s just meat and cheese, it’ll ease ya right in” mc says and turns to make hers. they go and sit down at the table, henry looks at his plate and mc is staring at him, waiting. he looks up at her and barks out instinctively, “what?” mc laughs a little, “eat your taco! i want to see your reaction!” she scoots forward a little on her seat. henry again rolls his eyes at her, but he thinks she’s adorable, eyes gleaming with excitement. he picks up the smaller less stuffed taco of the two on his plate, gives mc one last glance and then takes a bite of the taco. and then another. and another. and then it’s gone. mc giggles and claps her hands together, he liked it! he LOVED it! henry looks at mc and says, “that was alright” it’s mc’s turn to roll her eyes, “try the good one now!” mc presses, “the good one? i liked the one i just ate. that one ain’t good?”

“yeah it was good but this one will be even better”

henry looked like his head exploded, it didn’t but what did explode were the flavours in his mouth.

henry likes tacos a lot now. and whenever mc’s family does a taco night, you can bet your butt henry will be sitting at that table chowing down like it’s his last meal.

- bowers gang are all hanging with mc in her room, chilling on her floor, her and henry are sitting on the bed. mc stretches, then slips under the covers and turns and faces the wall.

“what are you doing?” the boys ask, confused. “i’m gonna take a nap. you can come cuddle if you want” mc says sleepily, henry is the closest and first to jump into action, slipping under the covers between mc and the wall. she cuddles into him , “you’re so warm” mc said, she paused for a moment and then said, “that’s what he said” and giggles a little.

“i don’t get it” said vic

“you wouldn’t. virgin” mc says bluntly, voice slightly muffled as she snuggled into henry some more.

the boys all laugh and mc drifts off to sleep.

- henry’s birthday is april 17th and he’s an aries (i think i saw this in a fic or just a post one time that he gives off aries vibes and idk if they said april 17th or if i am crazy and made it up)

- POV: you’re at a video store, it’s pouring rain out so you and the bowers gang are looking for a movie or two to watch.

“oh pat! let’s get the goonies! i love that movie!” you say excitedly, grabbing it off the shelf and holding it in your arms.

“no fucking way. that movies for babies” patrick says annoyed, “we’re going to get a horror movie. i’m thinking poltergeist”

“are you kidding? if this movies for babies then goo goo ga ga motherfucker. i want to watch the goonies” you say, irritated.

POV: you’re helping reggie’s mom with her garden. you didn’t tell the boys and they were out looking for you. they drive past reggie’s house and see you’re BEHIND as you’re bent over pulling weeds out of the garden. they pull into the driveway, get out of the car and make their way over to you, henry is first to speak, “hey sweet thang. do you look as good in the front as you do in the back?” he said, the boys chuckle behind him, you roll your eyes and turn around, “hey hot stuff! whatcha packin?” you laugh, the boys are surprised to see you there, “mc? what are you doing at my house?” reggie says confused,

“i’m helping your mom out with gardening!” you say with a smile, reggie’s mom, who was in the kitchen getting drinks walks out and says,”mc has been such a good help! and she’s tough, carrying all those dirt and mulch bags for me!” mc blushes under the boys’ stares, looking impressed and maybe even a little proud. their girl is tough. “would you boys want to help? it’ll get the garden done quicker and we haven’t started on the back yet” reggie’s mom asked, really hoping to put the boys to work and take a break. pat and vic start to say no but henry answers for everyone, “sure mrs. huggins, we ain’t got nothin better to do”

the rest of the afternoon you and the boys did weeding, put new plants into the garden,fresh dirt and mulch. reggie’s mom brought out drink as you all finished up, you were the first to go over for a drink, thanking her. “i should be the one thanking you! those boys would’ve been gone before i even finished asking for help! they stayed to be with you” mrs huggins said with a wink. you blush and smile shyly, the thought of them just wanting to hang out with you was nice, making you feel wanted. “i don’t know about that” you say bashfully, mrs. huggins waves a hand at you, “oh please darlin’, you are so sweet and absolutely gorgeous! of course they want to be around you!” you shrug it off and hide your grin behind your drink, fresh lemonade. you look over at the boys, oblivious still that they all like you and think you’re worth spending a day in the dirt for.

ok i saw a jealously scale thing and while i love a jelly boy i think it was a little inaccurate so here’s my kinda idea about it:

- henry: 10/10

this one stays the same as the og post i saw. he has abandonment issues and was raised to think he’s a piece of garbage. so he is very insecure and scared that you’ll leave him, making him very jealous and possessive of you.

- patrick: 3/10

now in the other post it said he was like 100000/10 but i don’t think that’s true. patrick is possessive of course, you’re his play thing and he doesn’t want others to touch you, but he thinks that you’re the lucky one, to be able to date this god of a man and if he thinks you’re real, then he has no fears of someone else taking you from him cuz they’re fake, how could they?

- vic: 7/10

i think vic’s was around 7/10 which to me makes sense. he’s a small guy and he can have an attitude which can sometimes make him difficult to be around. he really likes you and like henry is afraid of driving you away. so he keeps a close eye on you and is always nearby, never letting another man get a chance to take you from him.

- reggie: 10/10

now i’m this og post, reggie is a 1/10. he’s secure in his relationship with you. i don’t think that’s the case.

he’s a chubby boy, we all know this and that makes him insecure. all his friends are fit good looking guys and all flirts. he is handsome though as you tell him constantly but, he still gets this creeping feeling, that you’ll wake up one day and find him repulsive and leave him for one of his “better looking friends” that makes his a little hot headed and possessive. when you’re joking around with one of the other boys, he sees it as flirting, which usually leads to a fight. most of the time you can talk through it though as since he’s been seeing you, he’s gotten better as communicating his feelings to you.

- this connects back to my movie “blurb”

- having the movie night and it’s storming real bad. you’re in patrick’s basement and while watching his chosen movie “the omen” the power goes out.

- he shuffles around in the dark, finds some candles and lights them

-you all sit around the small coffee table and decide to tell scary stories to pass the time

-patrick of course had other “ideas” wink wink nudge nudge but he was quickly smacked upside the head

- after a while of telling scary stories and the boys scaring the bejesus out of you (jerks) the power comes back on, but the weather is still bad.

-mrs. hockstetter calls down to all of you in the basement to ask if you’d like to stay the night as it’s “not safe what so ever”

- you all agree and head into the kitchen to call your parents- minus henry

-you all start to get ready to go set up makeshift beds in the basement when mrs. hockstetter stops you, saying you can sleep in avery’s room and he’ll stay with her as mr. hockstetter was on a business trip

-you go to tell her it’s fine but she insists and says she doesn’t need more babies made in her house

-so you follow her to the younger hockstetter’s room, avery follows and grabs his favourite stuffy before saying goodnight to you and running out

-mrs. hockstetter makes a point of telling you to lock the door so the boys don’t come in and says goodnight

-you sigh and crawl into the little twin bed and turn on the lamp on his bedside table

-meanwhile, in the basement, henry and pat got the couches and vic and reg got the floor (poor babies)

-reg was out like a light, snoring so loudly it could shake the house

-the rest of the boys couldn’t sleep

-henry gets up to you see you and patrick asks where the fuck he’s going

-“i’m going to take a wizz! fuck off” henry said

-he creeps upstairs and goes towards the room you’re staying in and lightly knocks on the door

-he hears a soft whisper, “who is it?”

-“it’s henry” he reply’s back just as quiet

-the lock turns and the door whips open and henry is pulled into the room and the door was quietly shut again, the lock stays unturned

-you ask henry what he needs and he says he can’t sleep cuz belch is snoring like a pig so he came you see if he could sleep with you

-you giggle and say yes, glad he came up cuz you also couldn’t sleep, and knew you’d sleep better with someone in the room with you

-you both go over to the twin sized bed and squeeze in. you’re both squished next to each other but you don’t mind

-few minutes pass, you and henry are chattering a bit as you try to let sleep take over you, talking about the day and telling inside jokes

-suddenly the door opens. you think it’s mrs. hockstetter, she heard you let henry in and you’re in trouble but it’s much worse. it’s patrick

-he asks what the fuck you two are doing and if you’re sleeping together

-you shush him a little and say no, that you both couldn’t sleep and that was that

-patrick says it’s not fair henry gets to sleep with you and he wants to as well

-you say that the bed is way too small for all three of you so he says you’ll sleep in his room

-you all creep across the hall to patrick’s room and vic shows up asking what you’re doing

-“were going to bed” you whisper

-“i’m coming too” he whispers back, “belch is gonna burst my goddamn eardrum”

-giggles start to bubble out of you and you try to be quiet. you’re tired and you need to go to bed

-you all climb into patrick’s bed, it’s a queen but it’s not comfy

-the four of you are clambering around, vic is complaining and so is henry. you finally have enough, you get vic to cross the hall with you and you grab avery’s bed and quietly bring it into patrick’s room and set it on the floor

-you grab the pillows and blankets too and then close the door and you go to sit on the twin bed

- henry and pat start to stop you, “no hey! you’re up here with us” henry whisper-yells

-you roll your eyes and give vic the blanket and pillow before hopping into patrick’s bed and squeezing inbetween them, “there. happy?” you say, though you didn’t really care where you slept

-as you all really settle in for the night you can’t help but voice that you feel bad you all ditched reggie

-the boys all say he’ll live and he deserves to sleep along with how loud his pig nose is

-you smack them for saying that and then sigh amd say “fine. g’night” and you all fall into a slumber, rain pitter pattering on the window

-early in the morning reggie woke up and saw all the boys missing and made his way upstairs to find you all asleep in pats room. he frowns and steps in closing the door.

-he steps over vic, who rolled off the twin bed in the night and lays on it himself and falls back asleep. he snores again but it’s much lighter and less disturbing

-later in the morning, mrs. hockstetter and avery wake up and go to make some breakfast. she walks by avery’s room and sees the door ajar. she peaks her head in and sees his bed missing. she turns and goes to patrick’s room opening the door and what a sight.

-in the twin bed reggie is sprawled out, next to him on the floor with just his legs on the bed is vic. on the queen bed, henry is half off the bed and patrick is squished into the wall and you, a great big star fish in the middle of the bed, your limbs sprawled over both the boys.

-mrs.hockstetter tries not to laugh and goes and gets her camera and takes a photo of all of them. she chuckles and shakes her head. how silly of her to try and keep them apart

a plot i tend to put into my henry x reader more or my bowers gang x reader is henry seeking comfort with you. i don’t think i’ve written about this yet in here?

so one night, after a particularly bad beating, henry runs to your house. he remembers you saying one time that you never lock the outside basement door so he got into your house through there.

he walks up the basement stairs as quietly as he can and all the way up the main stairs to your room. he’s not sure if he should wake you up or not, but he decides he needs to, he needs you. he shakes your shoulder, whispering your name, his voice a little shaky and desperate. you blink awake and sit up in a split second and turn on your bedside lamp. you blink as your eyes adjust and then lay on henry. you ask him what he’s doing in your house, and if he’s okay.

he starts sniffling and then let’s put a quiet sob. you get him to sit down and notice some blood seeping through the back of his shirt, you don’t say anything, you know what it’s from and you know he doesn’t want to talk. you can help him in the morning. for now you take his shoes off for him and then get him to slide into bed. you turn off the lamp and slide in too.

you ask him to come here and he immediately turns and wraps his arms around you, crying softly into your shoulder. you pet his head softly as you hold him. he eventually falls asleep and so do you, peacefully holding each other. you are his safe haven.

of course, in the morning he’ll threaten to gut you if you tell anybody. you didn’t plan on it and tell him that. you then tell him if he ever wants to, he’s always welcome in your home. he scoffs and turns away from you, going to leave and then stops at the door and says thanks. you grin softly, you know that was hard for him to say. he leaves, but he’ll be back soon.

he starts staying over so much he has his own drawer in your dresser, he has a toothbrush on your bathroom counter and shampoo and body wash in your shower. he eats dinner with your family almost every night. your parents never asked or minded why he stayed, they had a pretty good guess to why, they’ve met butch bowers a handful of time.

henry learns to help around the house, he’s grateful to be welcomed in and you tell him that’s a good way to show it. and he really likes hanging out with your dad. your dad doesn’t drink except for the occasional bourbon, and is a nice quiet man and doesn’t lose his temper often and is very understanding. he takes henry under his wing a bit. (showing him what a real man is)

the biggest realization henry had when he realized he shouldn’t be treated the way he was by his father, was when he accidentally knocked over a glass of water at dinner one night. it shattered on the ground, henry immediately tensed up, muttering an apology and moving to get it, keeping his head down. your parents brushed it off saying it was okay, your dad jumped a little bit telling henry not to touch the glass. it scared henry and all he said was “sir?” your dad explained that he didn’t want henry to cut his hands and asked you to go grab the dust pan and vacuum. you did and started cleaning up the glass for your friend. he tried to let you do it but you said it was fine, you’ve broken your fair share of dish ware and we’re an “expert” at cleaning it up. your dad went into a story of how you tried to cook a frozen muffin in the microwave and put it in for so long you burned not only the muffin, but also the plate which shattered and left the house smelling like a burnt muffin for a week. looking back at that moment made him laugh as he also explained that it only happened when you were 14.

henry relaxed a bit after that, knowing they weren’t mad. but he was still waiting for the switch to flip, for your mom or dad to rage out, smack him and kick him out of the house, but it never came. after you tidied up the glass you got him a new one and sat down to finish your dinner.

after everyone was done, henry cleaned up the table, put away the leftovers and helped you grab dessert. your parents thanked him multiple times to which he kept replying, “it’s the least i can do”, that night when he went to bed (your parents moved him into the guest room but he would still sneak into your room every other night) he made the point to hug you tight as you went to say goodnight. you weren’t expecting it, but gladly accepted. you asked what it was for, not that you weren’t happy to hug your friend, and tells you he loves you and he’s glad he met you. you’re shocked at his words, tears well up in your eyes and you hug him tighter. he doesn’t say it out loud but, you saved him.

-okay little angst moment! idk if this has already been written? if it was it’s long since been deleted so…

-POV: you’re patrick’s girlfriend

-so it’s the whole plot of IT. the only difference is that you’re in the story.

-after patrick “goes missing” you’re in spiralling depression. the love of your life is gone

-you still hang with the boys as they’re your best friends too, though you don’t bully kids

-you grew closer with henry, being each others rocks.

-one day you’re walking down the street and you see the losers club walking down the street, freaking out. you keep walking past until you hear eddie start to freak out, “the clown! i saw him at the creepy old house in neibolt” you freeze. you saw that clown. outside your window, flicking a lighter. patrick’s lighter

-you go up to them and ask them what they know about the clown. theyre reluctant at first, afraid the rest of the bowers gang are near. you tell them they’re not and you all walk to the park and they explain what they saw.

-you tell them if they ever need your help with IT. you would be there. but the first time they would need you, you weren’t there.

-bev calls you one summer afternoon and you rush to her house. she tells you all that happened at the house. richie, eddie and bill went in. ben, stan and her stayed out. eddie fell through the ceiling and broke his arm, she stabbed the clown in the face with a iron spike, it almost tore ben apart with said spike, but they hurt IT. because they were together.

-you don’t hear much about them after that and you stick with your gang.

-later in the summer you get a call from bill. beverly was taken. you’re pissed. it’s time to get your revenge and kill this fucking clown. you know he took patrick.

-you meet the losers club at neibolt and they tell you the plan. you make your way down to the well, the kids start climbing down. you’re helping mike when henry comes out and tries to kill him.

-“henry!” you scream, “stop! what are you doing” you’re petrified, why is he doing this?

-“i have to! i have to kill them all! kill. you. all.” he said, deranged.

-“what do you mean henry?” you ask shakily, hoping to distract him so like can get away.

-henry suddenly softens, the slightest. it’s you. his sweet y/n. “don’t worry y/n. you’ll be with them again. hockstetter. vic. belch. you can be with them. float. with them. you’ll float too! You’ll float too! hahaha!” like he flipped a switch he’s back to the lunatic version that came in and starts running for you.

-you tackle him, and knock the knife out of his hand. he growls and grabs you, flipping you over and he’s on top of you. you kick him off and start crawling backwards, your hand lands on a brick. henry jumps for you and when he does, you swing. you hit him with the brick and it knocks him out.

- you’re panting and close to tears and mike asks if you’re okay. you shake your head, but say it’s fine.

-you find some extra rope and tie henry to a post. you’ll come back for him. as you walk back to the well, you pick up henry’s knife, god knows you’ll need it.

-you get down into the sewers where stan (was a dumbass and wandered off by himself??!! how is that bills fault? really??) was attacked.

-as you keep walking you think about henry’s words. he mentioned reggie and vic? they can’t be dead. you just saw them that morning. you get to the place where bev is being held. IT’s nest.

-bev is floating. they get her down and ben kisses her and then sweet little georgie comes out and bill shoots him and he freaks out.

as the battle insues and they’re trying to fight the clown and he’s holding bill hostage, he morphs again. into patrick. you’re patrick.

“come on doll. look at the stupid kid, he’s not worth it. let me have my fun with him and then i’ll be all yours k? take the little losers for ice cream or something and i’ll meet up with you later” “patrick” chuckles with a sly smile, but there’s a sinister look in his eyes

-your eyes well up with tears as you see him. the last time you’ll see him and it’s not even really him. “stop it! you stupid clown!” you cry.

-he growls and turns back into pennywise frowning, then he says his big ol thing about growing old and dying to the weeds yadayada

-richie then says his thing, “welcome to the losers club asshole!” and fighting begins again

-the kids are all swinging and taking hits and he’s trying to scare them but it’s not working. he goes after you and you just stand there staring. “i’m not scared of you, you stupid, stupid clown. you made a big mistake killing patrick. i’m going to kill you” you say, malice and determination in your voice.

-pennywise giggles, “oh? let’s see it then” but you know, he’s scared.

-you pull out henry’s knife and stab the clown in the eye. over and over again. he starts wailing and he throws you away from him. you slam into his junk pile and the kids keep hitting and hitting until he’s gone. whispering one final, “fear” and dropping into nothingness.

-when you get out, henry is dazed, he sees you, alive and starts weeping, “i’m so sorry! i’m sorry! i k-killed them! he made me!” he’s sobbing, “they’re with amy! i’m sorry!”

-you hear beverly call you, and you tell henry you’ll be right back and run up and out of the house.

-all the losers look at you, and bev shakily points towards the blue trans am across the street.

-you run towards it and then stop right in front, drop to your knees, and scream.

-you’re best friends, reggie and vic. sitting in reggie’s blue trans am “amy”, throats slit, blood down their necks, eyes staring, vacant and glassy.

-you lean over and vomit. the sight is so sickening. they’re dead. they’re all dead.

-you turn away from the car and go back inside the house, ignoring the losers as they call for you, saying not to do anything rash, you tell them to go home, they need to be far from henry. he’s still dangerous, but you can handle him.

-you walk into the basement, back to henry.

-“why?” your voice croaks, “why them?!” you yell out

-henry’s sobbing, still tied to the post, “i had to! he made me! he made me! my dad! and them! i had to…” he shouts and then trails off, tears running down his face, staring at nothing.

-you’re shocked. he killed his dad. he killed his dad and then he killed your best friends.

-“you can’t be mad y/n please! you’re all i have left please!” he suddenly cries out, writhing against the ropes.

-you start to cry harder and again, fall to your knees, next to henry, and hug him. he’s all you have left, you can’t leave him.

-you untie him and help him up, he’s still shaking. and you take him out to the car, “we’re getting rid of these bodies and then we’re getting out of here okay? we’re going to get you out of here” you say to him. he just nods, broken.

-you instruct him to grab reggie and you two carry him into neibolt, down to the basement, and throw him down the well. then you do the same with victor.

-you go back to the car and get in and drive to your house. you have a stash of money you’ve been saving. you run in quick and grab it, and any other essentials you can think of and you’re back out to the car.

-you look at henry, and tell him everything’s gonna be okay. you have each other, thats all that you need. and you drive out of derry, leaving it all behind.

(k note: i don’t like sad stuff so as i wrote this obviously it had a bittersweet ending but still kinda happy whatever. really the plot is, if i don’t go into detail, y/n losing her entire friend group and then going ape shit crazy on the clown. she’s not scared, just vengeful. so that’s basically what i wanted but i wrote something else???? it’s different trying to add details i guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

-i’m reading the book rn and YALL WANNA KNOW WHAT HENRY SMELLS LIKE? also he was held back a grade L

-henry and i quote, “had an oder of sweat and juicy-fruit gum that always hung about him.”

-WHAT!!! and why is it literally perfect and make so much sense

-meeting plot:

you’re walking down the street and get stopped by some creep and he’s trying to chat you up and you try and quickly get out of the situation and walk away. the man follows you, and then after a while starts calling out to you and getting closer. you start running and he starts chasing you. you found a corner and go to cross the street. as you’re running across the street you almost get hit by a car. they go into a screeching halt and you slammed your hands on the hood of the car. you look at the driver, and then the car, and then back to the driver. it’s belch huggins… and the bowers gang. you call out amd say a quick and meek “sorry”, you’re out of breath and panting. henry calls out and asks if you wanna come for a ride. you pause to think for second. creepy man or bowers gang? you glance to your right and see the man coming around the corner. “bowers gang it is” you think. you round to the passenger side where henry is quickly, pull open the door, jump into his lap, and quickly close the door. belch puts the car into gear to start driving just as the man gets to the cross walk. you make eye contact with him and shrink into henry a bit. all the boys notice him. belch takes a quick glance at you, seeing your discomfort, you’re shaking slightly. he looks back at the man and sees that he’s walking around to the passengers side of the car. belch peels out, almost hitting the man. patrick whoops and laughs, vic calls out a fuck you to the man, whose now laying and panting on the side of the road, clutching his chest. you sigh in relief, glad to be away from him. you thank the boys, mainly belch, for the ride and relax a bit. realizing you just jumped into henry bowers lap to get away from that creep, you turn and quickly apologize, and say you can hop into the back, so you’re not crushing him. he chuckles and says that you’re perfectly fine right where you are. you blush and turn away. you try to get belch to drop you off, you could walk home now, they all say no, you’re hanging out with them. you comply, not wanting to get on the bad side of the scariest guys in town. you didn’t realize then what you’d be getting into.

henry: (lazily, not really serious, but annoyed) i’m gonna beat the shit outta you if you don’t stop

y/n: (not caring, completely unserious) well i’m gonna kiss you so hard that it’ll leave you breathless and wanting more

henry:

the boys:

henry: y/n what the fuck

this plot the boys bully y/n, but they end up saving her from some creeps and then there’s this like weird friends one day and bullies the next thing going on and then henry and y/n start to like each other and date in secret. patrick here’s a rumour that you turned a guy down because you have a crush but you deny it saying you didn’t want to hurt the guys feelings. vic and you bond over comic books so one saturday, you and him hang out, going to a comic book store. he asks you if you do have a crush, you say yes but you won’t tell him who. he wants to make a bet, 50 bucks says he can guess your crush by friday. you agree and set turns, he can have five guesses today and only 2 a day til friday, and he can’t tell the other boys about it or the bets off. he agrees and says he wants a hint about the crush so you tell him a nickname that you think fits your crush perfectly, “chihuahua”.

vic looks confused and then starts laughing, “chihuahua? why?” he asks chuckling,

“if you guess my crush you’ll get why”

idk if i already wrote this but we all know henry doesn’t talk about his feelings. but whenever you guys are together, he has a habit of tapping you three times. either when his hand is on your thigh, or he’s holding your hand, he taps three times. his way of saying “i love you”

tap tap tap.

so you have this guy at school who won’t leave you alone. he’s always asking you out, you always find a nice way to say no, always having an excuse as to why you can’t. one day he’s practically chasing you down the hall, trying to ask you out again. you turn a corner and see the bowers gang. you were in a survival mode trying to figure out how you can escape this nerdy teen predator, and walk up to the bowers gang. “henry! there you are!” you say cheerfully, he looks at you confused, you guys have maybe said one word to each other in your entire time in high school. you hear your name being called out again by your “admirer” and you don’t give henry any time to respond as you grab his shirt and pull him towards you, smashing your lips against his. he makes a surprised sound but doesn’t pull away, he sets his hands on your hips and pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, you open your mouth and let him in, his tongue gliding along yours, it feels good. you hear a sound that sounds like a mix between a cough and someone choking, then a quiet “i ask you later” followed by someone running off.

he left! you got that creep to leave you alone! you break the kiss with henry, both of you slightly panting, he looks dazed, still confused and cocky, cause of course any girl would want to kiss him, he’s henry bowers, but before he can say anything and before the boys can say anything cuz they’re just as confused and in awe that you just did that, you just smile at henry, “thanks bowers! see you in class” you say, giddy, half from surviving almost being backed into a corner, again and half from kissing henry. he’s not a bad kisser, if you do say so yourself, and you do. you take off back down the hall the way you came and disappear around the corner.

the boys all stand there not knowing what happened, and patrick is the first one to say something, patting henry on the back, “way to go bowers! that chick was hot as fuck! how long have you been banging her?” he says, laughing. henry rolls his eyes and then smirks as he turns to patrick, “i’ve never talked to that girl in my life” he chuckles as the boys all again, stare in awe. henry turns back and looks in the direction you left in, and he knew that wasn’t going to be the last time he kissed you.

another thing with the fake dating trope.

henry really starts to like being the protector, he likes the feeling of being needed by someone, not feared. he likes it cuz he needs you as much as you need him, so he knows you won’t ever leave him, as long as you need him.

incorrect quote:

henry: Can you eat like a lady? are you capable of that?

y/n: Do you want me to eat like a lady? Or show you how much I can fit in my mouth?;) *takes a huge bite of a burger*

henry:

other characters that are apart of the bowers gang:

-Peter Gordon: A rich kid who joins bowers’ gang to boost his reputation

-Steve “Moose” Sadler: A big strong kid

-Gard Jagermeyer: So stupid they didn’t even bother to send him to summer school

one night you’re walking home from the library and these men start harassing you, you get scared and run from them. it starts pouring rain and you can hear them calling after you, they’re following you. you turn a corner and run into someone. you slammed on to him causing you both to let out an “oof” sound, and he grabs you by the shoulders. you let out a scream and try to get out of his grip, you don’t see who it is, it’s dark and your eyes are blurry from the rain. the man holding you hostage speaks up, “hey hey woah, what’s the matter y/n? it’s just me” the man says in a worried tone,but to you it sounds more amused than worried. patrick hockstetter. you stop thrashing and let out a sigh of relief and wrap your arms around his waist hugging him. he pats your back before pulling back from the hug, holding your shoulders again as he leans down a bit to look you in the eyes, “what’s the matter? you seem really freaked?” he asks concerned. you burst into tears, “these guys started harassing me and asking me to hang out with them and i didn’t want to and i ran and i think they’re chasing me” you cry, you’re shaking now, from fear and from being cold, you’re soaking wet at this point, the rain is coming down harder. “hey, it’s okay. you’re with me now, i won’t let anything happen to ya. come on, my house is around the corner” patrick says wrapping his arm around your shoulder and guiding you towards his house. you don’t say anything, just sniffle and let him take you. when you get to his house you both quietly enter, his family is well asleep by now. he grabs your hand and leads you down to the basement, where his bedroom is. “let me grab you some dry clothes” he says, he’s being awfully nice you think, very unlike patrick. while he’s distracted you take the chance to look at him, his clothes are soaked and weighing down on him, showing off how lanky he really is, his dark wet locks are dripping water onto his face, rolling down down his cheekbones, he looks pretty. you’ve never really looked at him like that before. maybe because he’s not being patrick, he’s someone else, gentler. you don’t know how long it will last but you’ll enjoy it while it does. he digs through his dresser and finds a shirt and pj pants, and walks over to you and hands them to you, “thank you” you say quietly, he smirks slightly, staring at you. he had a look in his eye, a patrick look, but nothing bad comes of it, like he’s holding back, “you can change in there” he says, pointing to a door, you assume is a bathroom, he never takes his eyes off you as you walk in and close the door. you quickly change and immediately feel warmer. you take your wet clothes and exit the bathroom, “where should i put these?” you ask, softly, “i throw them in the dryer for you” he says and grabs the wet clothes from your hands, “thank you” you say again. he doesn’t say anything and goes to put them in the laundry room around the corner. while you wait you take a look around his room, his bed has black sheets and is tucked into the corner, he’s got animal skulls and teeth and an assortment of bones littered across his dresser, side table and desk. rock and heavy metal band posters on the wall, as well as a bay watch poster, you giggle at that one. boys. patrick comes back into his room, his clothes now changed and he stops in front of you, and you just stare at each other for a second. “you okay now?” he asks, you nod, then yawn, “yeah m’just tired” you say through the yawn. you miss it but patrick gets a grin on his face and a glint in his eye but it’s gone in a flash as he puts on a gentle, concerned face, “let’s head to bed then yeah? it’s been a long night” he says putting his hand on the small of your back and guiding you towards his bed. you’re too tired to think straight at this point, so you let him guide you to the bed, and you crawl in tucking yourself into the corner, he slides in after you. you both get comfortable and lay facing each other, space in between you, “thank you for saving me” you whisper softly, sleep starting to take over,

“no problem. i couldn’t just leave you there, you looked so cute and small like a little bunny, you poor thing” he chuckled a little, his tone mocking, but you don’t notice it, “you think i’m cute?” you say, your tone jesting, but eyes are closed, your breathing evening out, you fall asleep. patrick grins as he stares at you, saying one final thing, you don’t hear, “yeah. very cute, and all mine” he whispered the last part, then grabs your waist and pulls you against him, you snuggle in deeper and he slowly falls asleep, holding you in his arms. you don’t realize what you’ve gotten yourself into.

the next morning you wake up to a car horn honking. you jolt awake, your head was on patrick’s chest, you feel his arms around your waist and you look down to see him asleep, “he looks peaceful, like an angel.” you snort at the thought. a fallen angel maybe. you then hear patrick’s mother call down to him, “patrick darling, the boys are here, it’s time for school!” she shouts down, he groans, rolling over, pulling you with him, he lays on top of you nuzzling his nose into your neck. you yelped as he did so. you try and shuffle away but he just holds you tighter and you feel him smirk against your neck. you sigh and roll your eyes, “patrick we have to get up, get off me! we have school! what time is it anyway?” you ask while trying to shove him off of you, looking around for a clock. all of a sudden he lets you go and you fling out of the bed with a yelp, “ow! what the fuck dude!” you say rubbing your head that you hit on the floor. he lets out a muffled chuckle, his face in his pillow. you stand up and glance at his desk, there’s a clock! it reads 7:45am. you freeze, “shit! we’ve got like 15 minutes we gotta go come on!” you say in a panic, patrick rolls over on to his back and stretches out, “shut the fuck up. it’s way to early for this shit, comere” he says reaching for you. you dodge his grabby hands and go into the laundry room to grab your clothes, “no! get up! we’re going to be late! please?” you say, you open the dryer and lean in to grab your clothes.

they’re still wet.

you run back into patrick’s room and shake him, “patrick! my clothes are still wet! did you put the dryer on?” you’re whisper yelling, you don’t want his mom to know you’re there. he finally gets up, leaning on his elbow and he looks up at you, he’s got a look in his eye, but you don’t see it, he smirks a little, “the power must have gone out bunny. don’t worry, you can borrow some of my clothes” he yawns at the end of the sentence and sits of stretching. he stands and walks into the bathroom shutting the door. you let out a puff of air and go into his closet, you find a pair of baggy ripped jeans and then in his dresser you find a pale yellow and bright red ringed shirt with a screaming cat face on it. cool. you quickly put that stuff on before he comes out of the bathroom. he walks out and grabs some random clothes off the ground and starts to change, then stops and looks at you, “um, a little privacy bunny?” he says and makes a spinning motion with his hand, you blush, “oh! right sorry. um do you have a spare toothbrush i can borrow?” you ask as you turn around facing away from him, you can almost hear the smirk in his voice as he says “just use mine” you tense a little, “ew! no way that’s so gross! we can’t share a toothbrush” you say, your voice rising a little, “ suit yourself. guess you’ll just have gross morning breath at school.” he says, you can hear the buckle of his belt clinking. you think for a moment, then sigh and walk over to the bathroom, “you don’t have any diseases right?” you ask as you pick up the toothbrush, you glance over at him, he’s now dressed and leaning against the door frame, “a disease? like what sweetheart?” he smirks tilting his head, you stare at him, “rabies.” you say bluntly, his eyes light up a little, and he smiles, his little weirdo smile and he licks his lips, “i might. wanna find out?” you roll your eyes, put toothpaste on the brush and stare at it, “ugh. whatever” you say and jam the toothbrush into your mouth. you quickly brush your teeth, then turn to patrick and stick the toothbrush into his hand, “there you go. your turn. be quick” you say and then rush into his room to get your hopefully dry shoes. you grab them and sit at the foot of his bed, they’re damp but nothing you can’t deal with. you put them on and then scan the room for your backpack. you find it sitting at the bottom of the stairs. right as you grab it he walks out. “okay let’s go!” you say pointing towards the stairs, bouncing on your toes. he rolls his eyes at you, grabbing his lighter off his desk, and a pencil off the floor, he gestures towards the stairs, you run up and quickly out the front door before his mom sees you. you hear her call out to him, “have a good day honey!” he slams the door shut.

you both walk towards the blue trans am. in the blue trans am, vic is the first to see you.

“holy shit” vic says, “look” he starts laughing.

“what?” henry says sharply and looks out his window. it’s you, sweet y/n, wearing hockstetter’s clothes and walking towards amy. “what the fuck?” henry says, belch chuckles “that fucking dog”

pat nods at the boys and you smile at them, patrick helps you slide into the car before hopping in himself. you’re sat inbetween vic and pat, “morning” you say letting out a yawn, “morning y/n” belch says, looking at you through the rear view mirror with a smile.

“are we fucking going or what?” henry says snippy, belch glances at him and nods, putting the gear in to drive and pulling out onto the road driving you to school. you lean your head on patrick’s shoulder and close your eyes. patrick looks down at you and smiles ever so slightly. his little bunny, he wonders if you might be real. probably not, but you’ll be a lot of fun to play with.

there’s this really old tumblr post about someone talking about solipsism with their friend and they said to their friend, “if everything around me is all my imagination, then you’re the best thing i’ve come up with” and in a version where patrick isn’t a psycho killer fafafa that would be a really cute thing for him to say

#it 2017 #henry bowers x reader #henry bowers #patrick hocksetter x reader #patrick hockstetter #vic criss x reader #vic criss #belch huggins x reader #belch huggins #the bowers gang x reader #bowers gang #it stephen king

[ordinaryschmuck]

Bob's Burgers Christmas Specials Ranked (So Far)

(Because, screw it. I already did the first two big holidays, might as well do the third)

#13. Yachty or Nice: I just don't vibe with this one. Jimmy being nice doesn't feel right, Bob helping him doesn't feel much better, and the kids trying to steal gifts doesn't seem like the brand of chaos they would do in Season Eleven. Maybe in the early seasons, but they moved past that nonsense. It'd be better if there were good jokes to carry the episode, but there's really not much there. Not a great episode OR special for me.

#12. Nice-Capades: I just don't vibe with this one either. The idea of the kids trying to get on the good side of a Mall Santa is funny on paper, but them doing an ice-capades show for him feels like a stretch and there's a lot of things that just HAPPEN to work out for them. And the jokes aren't really all that great either...Except for Bob buying calendars for the Mall Santa's nephew. That got a good laugh out of me. Everything else just kind of left me waiting for the episode to be over. But I did like the ending, both for the conclusion that Louise comes to on her own and the words Mall Santa gives her. It's warm, but not warm enough for this Christmas.

#11. Bob Rest Ye Merry Gentle-Mannequins: I am more on Bob's side than Linda's. She has a good heart for wanting to help Chet, but Bob's right. The guy's loonier than a Looney Tune and I would have sent him out the door the second he said, "Oh, I used to be a mannequin." He does need help, but feeding into his mental illness isn't it. Though, I do like how the resolution the kids come to on their own without any nudges from Bob or Linda. And, yeah, that final punchline is hilarious. Came through in the end, but Chet's not a character I'm missing and it makes me glad that the Holiday specials are MOSTLY not canon.

#10. Better Off Sled: This one's more of a WINTER special instead of a Christmas one, but the vibe's definitely better than in "Nice-Capades" and "Yachty or Nice." I love Louise battling Logan, Rudy's cousin Mandy is one of the more enjoyable one-off characters, and Teddy's trauma over getting snowballed by a charitable Eagle Scout gets some good laughs. Even Linda's subplot of making scarfs, while not all that funny, does have a great payoff. So while the Christmas side of this special is an afterthought, it's enjoyable where it counts.

#9. The Last Gingerbread House on the Left: I love episodes where Mr. Fischoeder talks Bob into doing something for him. It always feels like Bob's making a deal with the Devil, with this incident being one of the tamer experiences Bob was more or less backed into. The cost is that the jokes aren't as strong, but the chaotic energy met with the colorful characters that are Mr. Fischoeder's "friends" lead to great entertainment and a beautifully chaotic ending. Even the subplot has a sweet twist ending that's full of Christmas cheer. How can you not love it?

#8. Die Card, or Card Trying: It's still about Christmas, sort of. It's in the window. It counts.

But seriously? This one has a few good jokes, a warm ending, and it's a highlight of Linda's best and worst qualities. She wants to show how much her family means to her and will go to great lengths for it. Only for the episode to show how those great lengths annoyed most of the family, but in a more realistic way. I'm pretty sure we've ALL had one moment when our moms pushed us to do something out of love and we just went along with it to avoid the headache of her complaining about it...No offense to Linda. Overall, it's a decent episode, and one with a good punchline in the end.

(Also, that montage of Belcher Christmas photos was adorable)

#7. Gene's Christmas Break: I just love the family working together to do something nice for Gene. They don't like his album, but they know it makes him happy so they go out of their way to help the best they can. Even the message about how music lives on even if the original version dies is kind of beautiful in a way, bringing a good vibe to a decent special. The Secret Santa subplot definitely screams filler, though, but it ends on a great note between Teddy and Mort, so I'm not complaining.

#6. Have Yourself a Maily Linda Christmas: A wonderful episode that shows just how caring Linda is and how willing she is to go the extra mile, even for someone she doesn't know. And while something like "Bob Rest Ye Merry Gentle-Mannequins" can show how that's a bad thing, this shows the best side of Linda and her good will. Speaking of good will, how sweet is it that Louise and Gene stressed over their sister giving them GOOD gifts while they half-assed it? That's actually a pretty sweet conflict that shows how much these siblings care about each other. So, a lot of sweetness all around...Except for Linda's family showing up and being their worst selves. Thankfully there's some humor from Bob trying to avoid them that carries it.

#5. The Nightmare 2 Days Before Christmas: Okay, I guess we ARE having a Christmas special this year. Gosh dang it. Anyways, this one is pretty standard. Solid jokes, some good moments with the family, and John Roberts sounding the most Linda he's ever been. Linda talking to herself as she struggles to carry a Christmas tree is equal parts empathetic and hilarious, all of it carried (Ha-ha) by Roberts' performance. I also like how this one ends on a decent compromise that's bittersweet but still leaves everyone happy. It's good and cute.

#4. The Bleakening: What hurts this special are the songs, primarily in Part One. "The Bleakening" sets out to be a musical, but each song in Part One feels forced and too short, as if the writers cared more about making jokes instead of music. Which is fine, music isn't Bob's Burgers' strong suit as they're all mostly short yet full of charm anyway. But for a musical two-parter, nothing really stands out enough. That is until Part Two, where we get a decent reprise, a chilling song from Teddy, and "Twinkly Lights," which might be the biggest, LGBTQA+ friendly Christmas song I've ever heard. Honestly, give it a listen. And know that while Part One is slow as it builds up to this big conclusion, Part Two satisfies beyond expectations with a decent twist that delivers all it sets out to do. So while the first half was rough, at least it ended on a high note (Ha-ha-ha).

#3. Christmas in the Car: Lot of great jokes in this one, especially the subplot of Teddy being stuck in the fridge. There's also some slight intensity of the family being chased by a candy cane truck, making the situation tense AND funny because...it's a candy cane truck. And the ending's also equally warm and hilarious, which tends to be this show's specialty. A solid special and episode, probably one to show to friends and family if you want them to get into the series.

#2. Father of the Bob: Gosh dang it, this one is perfect. It's the one special I want to be considered canon because the story of Bob and Big Bob's relationship opens so many layers of Bob's passion and why he fights so hard to be interested in his kids' passions...even if they sometimes drive HIM crazy. And the resolution Bob and Big Bob come to really cuts deep, showing that while their relationship is still kind of strained, they love each other with Big Bob being proud of his son. I can't help but love it, even if there are SOME issues like the kids screwing around in the basement until they accidentally found the thing to help Bob's relationship with his father. There's not much good jokes there, but the story between Bob and Big Bob carries things anyway.

#1. The Plight Before Christmas: You all knew this was going to be #1. This special...gosh dang it. I love that the main conflict of it is Bob and Linda struggling to be there for ALL of their kids' things. It's effective because, unlike the Griffins, the Smiths, and any other adult cartoon family that isn't The Simpsons, the Belchers all CARE and LOVE each other no matter how crazy one or two members of the family can be. There can be annoyances and brief moments of conflict, but this family loves one another and will do everything they can for each other while feeling disappointed that they couldn't. And then there's that ending. It is the warmest, kindest, tear-jerkingest ending the show ever did, making this episode not only the best Christmas special, but quite possibly the best episode of the entire series.

And that's it. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. May your holidays be as warm and caring with your family as it is with The Belchers.

#bob's burgers #bob belcher #linda belcher #louise belcher #gene belcher #tina belcher #bob's burgers teddy #calvin fischoeder #christmas

[fourmula1]

Hi! I hope you are doing well! I was wondering if you are writing or would write any more of omega daniel with all of his alphas? I think that story is so sweet

here's daniel and alex, and a tiny daniel and george, on winter break. 714 words.

-

The thing about not having a seat this year is that Daniel has all the free time – and money – in the world to gallivant around the world to join his boys wherever they want to be.

Between Abu Dhabi and now he’s been home in Australia for a little while but when that became too unbearable, being apart from his boys, he’d hopped a flight to Thailand to join Alex for a week.

Which.

Daniel had never been anywhere with Alex without George. Certainly he’d been out with one, or the other, at times, but the other was always close by. This was the first and only time Daniel had been entirely alone with Alex for an extended period of time and it had been… nice. They both missed George, he could tell, but Daniel couldn’t deny that it was nice to enjoy the white sand beaches and crystal blue waters with Alex by his side, not a care in the world. Alex had always been a gentle, caring, soft alpha with Daniel and even more so alone, just the two of them. Alex was funny and relaxed most of the time, and Daniel was finding it so easy to switch his brain off and just enjoy the weather and cuddling up with Alex each evening.

Daniel learned to cherish what Alex brought to his life. Not that he hadn’t before, but Alex and George had forever been such a package deal that it was easy to forget them individually. Here in Thailand Daniel was so reminded of Alex’s sweet smile and endless bright laughter, of how he felt cuddled in Alex’s arms, Alex’s soft smooth skin perfect for nuzzling into. Daniel’s dominant personality was apparent to all but he was really able to let it out with Alex. Gentle, soft Alex, unlike any alpha Daniel had ever known. He let Daniel take the reigns – in their adventures together and in the bedroom. Alex was the only alpha Daniel had ever known who was willing to be topped from the bottom, so to speak; to let Daniel call the shots and order him around.

Hot.

Daniel appreciated a tough, aggressive, powerful alpha as much as the next thirsty omega did but that was never the vibe with Alex, and Daniel appreciated getting to be bossy with him.

On his last morning Daniel had nuzzled into Alex’s chest, tucked himself in with Alex’s arms wrapped around him, and sighed at the thought of how nice this week had been.

“England, tomorrow,” he’d said, pressing a kiss to Alex’s chest and looking up at him. “Are you so jealous I’m going to see Russell George?” He asked, grinning at his own stupid joke. Alex’s turn would come soon enough.

“I do miss Georgie, I won’t lie,” Alex had said, nuzzling into Daniel’s curls. “But I suppose I can let you have him to yourself for a little while.”

“How very generous,” Daniel nodded, faux solemn and holding back a laugh. “You, here, stuck on the beaches. Me and George, in bleak English winter.”

Alex laughed and Daniel preened at the warm shivers in his spine from pleasing his alpha.

-

The thing about reuniting with George was.

Was that.

There was something so delicious to Daniel about the fact that George wasn’t only reacting to Daniel’s soft omega scent again, but also to the lingering alpha Alex scent wrapped up in Daniel’s clothes and skin. Knowing how much George wanted them both and was able to smell them both made Daniel hard in his jeans at the goddamn baggage claim where he was wrapped up in a strong, sturdy George hug.

“Missed you,” George said, dragging his nose along Daniel’s neck, scenting him and – by the low alpha rumble in his chest – Alex too. “You smell so good,” he said and Daniel pulled back to look up at George happily.

“You gotta take me home right now,” he said, squirming a little under the scenting of his strong, pretty alpha.

Pulling back to grab Daniel’s bag, George laughed, nodding his head to the exit so they could head out to the car.

If Daniel couldn’t make it out of the car park before leaning over the console to suck George’s dick, well. Who could blame him.

#alpha harem #omega daniel #my ficlet

[softguarnere]

💚cast your mutuals as band of brothers characters💚

I have several of these in my ask box, and I just haven't gotten to them because school has stolen all of my free time. But since this is the most recent one, we'll consider it an answer to all of the curious people who have asked me to do this 🫶🏼

@brassknucklespeirs was one of the first friends that I ever made in this fandom, and I'm always super grateful for her friendship 💕 Bella has to be Guarnere for sure. She's the perfect balance of caring and chaotic - always sending a virtual hug when you need it, but would not hesitate to help you hide a body

Okay, so @latibvles is definitely Webster to me. Lex is such an incredibly talented writer with a magnificent felicity of expression, the coolest OCs ever with lovely names to match, but is also so encouraging of other peoples' work and is always down to help when a character needs a good name, or if you need to scream over thematic parallels

Lipton definitely has to be @mccall-muffin. Kim is the loveliest ever and she just gives off such a gentle and friendly vibe. She's always there with a kind word and encouragement, and she's also so productive. Like, I am insanely jealous of her ability to come up with cool ideas and put them onto the page so quickly!

@liebgotts-lovergirl was so hard to cast! I have to go with Speirs because it just works 🤌🏼 I was honestly so intimidated when we first became friends because she's so cool 👏🏼 She's also got a heart of gold and is one of the sweetest people I know

@mrs-murder-daddy just gives off Roe vibes to me. Such a sweet soul, and I always love being tagged in your lovely fics, as well as seeing you in my notifications

Martin has to be @stolemyspoons, and this is one of those castings that just relies on the ✨vibes✨ because they just seem so organized and on top of things 👏🏼

@currahee is Shifty, for sure 🫶🏼Always has a kind word of encouragement and just seems like such a lovely person overall

Winters would be @emmythespacecowgirl because like Winters, she seems very chill, but also very intimidating (in a good way)

I feel like @mads-weasley just has such Nixon vibes, in the best possible way. I'm also just obsessed with how well she writes him, if we're being honest

Liebgott will forever be someone I associate with @almost-a-class-act 😌🤌🏼Another example of me being obsessed with the way that someone writes a character - you just do it so well!

This isn't every mutual by any means, but this was fun to do :) Thanks for the ask, Anon! 💕🕊️

#this took me way too long lol sorry #I had it in my drafts weeks ago but then had to work on all my projects and it fell by the wayside #tag game #anonymous #asks #tumblr friends #mutuals #bob fandom

[kaneydas]

if they had more time to flesh out the rest of kaneda’s gang, what do you think they’d be like personality-wise? idek why but i love those guys

THIS ASK HAS MY WHOLE HEART❤️ such a great idea, i love them too.

cw: drug mention, injury mention(?)

If I interpreted this right ur referring to the guys we get to see in the movie for like 0.5 seconds. The funny thing, that most people maybe don’t know about(?), is that they actually have semi-canonical names! I think u can find them by playing the somewhat obscure and kind of shit Akira game that came out in 1988 lol. But I will spare you of having to do that lol

Not including Kai & Yamagata here but if u want sum with them too just ask. Also, I’m just going off of PURELY vibes here hehe so feel free to agree or disagree

Mitsuru Kuwata

Weirdo. Just gives me weirdo vibes (*loving tone*)

You know that one kid in middle school that freaked out all the other kids by turning his eyelids inside out or by doing other kinds of gross stuff in general? Yeah, that’s Mitsuru.

Youngest child vibes

Gets into fights easily, pretty impulsive as a person in general.

A true instigator at heart LMAO. Likes to say out of pocket shit just to start a heated discussion. I don’t even think he believes half the shit he says, he just likes to piss people off.

As a result, it’s really easy to get into random, weird, and petty arguments with him. Like why tf are ya’ll arguing about whether water is wet or not rn

Green is his fave color.

One time he and Kaneda thought it would be a fantastic idea to try and race each other in the dead of Neo-Tokyo’s winter. In the end, Mitsuru fell of his bike and got the nastiest road rash scar ever on his chest and right arm. He still has the scar to this day, but he thinks it looks fucking sick (and it kind of does tbh).

Yuji Takeyama

Chronically cranky.

Looks way meaner than he actually is, tho.

Mitsuru is his 4lyfer, but he would never admit it to anyone. They argue like they hate each other almost every day but they’re always together. Yuji is his one living braincell.

He’s the only one with any living braincells in the entire gang actually, which doesn’t say much anyway…

He’s a hater at his core. Laughs his ass of whenever Tetsuo falls off his bike, makes fun of Yamagata when he mispronounces words, and so on.

Asshole, but he can be nice sometimes. Always pays for his friends whenever they want snacks or drinks from the vending machine. I also feel like he remembers everyone’s birthday.

Was blonde at one point before he shaved his hair, but no one dares speak of that era lmaoo

Eiichi Watanabe

Literally zero thoughts behind this dudes eyes. Just going through life on autopilot atp

Surprisingly sweet and mellow tho, has the whole gentle giant vibe going for him, kind of

Always super relaxed and easy-going, I feel like he’s ideal to have in a stressful situation. But is really lazy and hates doing anything that requires too much effort too, tho

Smokes soooo much. Literally. all the time.

Always laughs at people’s jokes, no matter how bad they are or how awkwardly they’re delivered.

Really strong and is the tallest out of his friends (the gang), so he thinks it’s funny to pick some of them up randomly and put them in air jail

Always keeps forgetting where he put the keys to his motorcycle. Also his wallet, always forgets his fucking wallet. Super forgetful in general.

#this is so random #but I really went all in on this one😭 #akira headcanons #akira 1988 #asks #kaneda shotaro #mitsuru kuwata #takeyama yuji #akira imagines #eiichi watanabe #writing

[lamnwar]

Forever? // Kiyoshi Teppei x Reader

"Where are you taking me, love?" Asks the beautiful boy as you focus on the road.

"Told ya I wanna take you on a road trip now that I have my licence" you reply.

You can feel his gaze on you, which makes you smile a little. He's definitely onto you, but it's more entertaining to act like you're still able to surprise him. For all the time that you've been together, you've never been able to outsmart him. Yet, when you met him for the first time, you wouldn't suspect him to be such an observer. At first glance, Teppei looks like a giant dummy. He simply smiles and laughs, sometimes being quite literal, which gives him the biggest himbo vibe. But then, you learn to know him, and you realise that there is no moment where the wheels in his brain don't work. There is always a thought brewing, and unbeknownst to most, his gentle eyes are shaper than they seem.

The first time he outsmarted you, you were left speechless. He just casually had a reflection that you yourself wouldn't come up with, unless you were given months to think about it. And at that very instant, you looked at him in a whole new light. You wouldn't say that was the moment you fell for him; that was something that happened gradually. But it was certainly a first step towards it, and to this day you are sure that you are the first one who has fallen in love in your couple.

"The sun's about to set" remarks your boyfriend.

You take a look at the orange tint of the sky; it's hard not to be distracted by it. You've always loved sunsets, but lately, you've rarely got the time to appreciate them.

"I love summers, it's sunny til late."

"I can tell that much, since you're always depressed in winter. That's going to do you good, these few months of sun."

"And I'm gonna spend all of them with you" you say, briefly diverting your eyes from the road to look at him.

Teppei has a radiant smile, the kind that you can easily notice from far away. You cuss under your breath. It's so hard to stay focused on the streets when he is right here, next to you! You're still a new driver, you shouldn't make an offense because you got distracted by your handsome boyfriend. You fight with yourself mentally. The urge to stop on the side road and give him a big kiss is hard to control; but you have something else planned for the both of you, and it requires some more time of you resisting him.

Thankfully, there is just a few more minutes of driving before you reach your destination. At this point, you know for sure that Teppei has a clear idea where you are bringing him. The way there is easily recognizable; the small convenience store that you've passed earlier, the road going upwards, different trees adorning the sideroad. Despite knowing that your surprise isn't one anymore, you still feel your heart pounding, anticipating the way the brunette will react once you reach the spot.

You finally stop the car, once you arrive exactly where you want. The two of you get out of the car, soft wind kissing your skin. You walk nervously towards Teppei, hands locked behind your back.

"I figured you'd love watching the sunset with me here, on the hill."

He looks at you, mouth slightly open. He looks genuinely pleased by what you've planned for him, which makes you blush. As far as you are concerned, it's nothing impressive. You've just wanted to watch the sunset with your boyfriend. It isn't the most exciting surprise, not to mention that he's known all along that this is what you had in mind.

"You're really too good to me" he simply says, arms pulling you into a hug.

"Am I?" You chuckle against his chest. "It's nothing much, though."

He laughs softly, landing a kiss on your forehead as he looks at the view. The whole city is painted in shades of pink and orange, and your own face is also shaped differently by the last rays of sun. To him, you are the real spectacle here. And he feels that way everytime he looks at you.

"As long as you are with me, I'm always having fun. And that's all that counts."

You blush furiously, diverting your gaze towards the view so you don't have to face these tender brown eyes that make you melt. Teppei is so blunt with his declaration of love, saying things like that so casually, like these words are meant to be said all the time.

"Glad you like it... I guess?" You finally say.

"I definitely do, I love sunsets."

"They're so pretty, I can watch them forever" you let out all dreamy.

It's true, you can watch the sky for hours without being bored. Nothing is as purely wonderful to you like seeing the infinite above you change over the course of the day, painting itself and the world in thousand of shades. It's a work of art.

"I can watch you forever" you hear Teppei say beside you.

You look at him, at lost for words. How can you respond to that, anyway? He simply smiles at you, like he always does. A pure, honest smile. A smile full of love. He clearly doesn't care if his words are romantic, or cheesy, or maybe too much of this or that. To him, it's the truth in all its simplicity. He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you towards him. The last rays give a golden glow to his face, making him look like a dreamy sight. The moment feels surreal, but when you feel your heart beating in your chest, the reality of things get to you. You aren't dreaming.

"Forever?" You repeat, still looking at him.

"Forever."

#no one asked for this #but it's the birthday of the loml #and i had to do something about it #meaning feeding you and me some nice #kiyoshi fluff #i love him sm <3 #kiyoshi teppei #knb #kiyoshi x reader #knb x reader

[spectralscathath]

do you have any voice headcanons for Antares? how they talk, stuff like that?

Okay well here’s the characters that I think would keep the voices similar to what they have in show, because the performances given were excellent and really defined the character to me. The cadence, the tone, all that, these ones work well.

Winter, Ironwood, Tyrian, Watts, Salem, Hazel, Oscar, Ozpin, the Ace Ops are all solid, Robyn, Whitley, Sienna, Raven, Mercury, Vernal.

So here's the ones I'd mess with:

Ruby: I’d want to still have her sound light and innocent, but I’d definitely make her way less squeaky then she was in the show. A voice that can still have a bit of grit, if she needs it. I’m picturing something like Dani Phantom in Danny Phantom, or X-23 in x-men evolution (Andrea Libman’s version). Childish but able to get dangerous.

Weiss: definitely something posh but not necessarily snooty. She should have a very clear voice, one that’s clearly been through a million dictation lessons and speaks quite musically at that. Pick a soprano broadway singer, go from there.

Blake: I think she’d probably have the deepest voice of the main four girls? Not raspy, but resonant. Able to soften up, I picture something like Vi from Arcane or Korra from Legend of Korra.

Yang: Not as deep as Blake’s voice, but definitely with a bit of grit to it that gives her that tough vibe. Where Blake has resonance, Yang does have rasp. Sorta Ryuko Matoi-esque, or like Amethyst from Steven Universe.

Qrow: as much as I like Jason Liebrecht’s work I don’t think he works quite as well for Qrow, which is not anything against him just the voice doesn’t fit as much as I’d prefer. I’ve always felt Qrow should have a voice with a deeper register anyway, so I’d be picking a performance like Wolverine from X-Men Evolution, or Ghazan, Legend of Korra.

Sun: I really like Lego Monkie Kid and all the voice actors are great, I just can’t decide if Sun gets MK’s voice (younger, peppy, excited, also Sokka) or Monkey King’s (equally peppy, a little more deep, a bit tricksy, also Goku).

Ilia: I think Cherami Leigh’s voice acting is great (maybe she can be Blake?) but my Ilia is a bit younger and a lot softer so I’d want her to have more of a higher voice, to contrast Antares-Blake’s lower register. Something that still cracks, a bit like Luz from Owl House, mayhaps, or Marcy from Amphibia.

Summer: if any of you have watched Critical Role 3 Bells Hells and have listened to Ashley Johnson’s voice for Fearne, that’s it exactly. Really soft and breathy and gentle, really distinctive from the rest of the cast.

Tortuga: Tortuga had a very deep voice compared to the other Ace Ops, but not gravelly. Not quite on the levels of like, James Earl Jones, but more like Keith Davids in his Dr Facilier role, able to be quick but with gravitas.

Cinder: needs to be huskier, definitely able to have charisma behind it rather than risking sounding childish, or whiny. I picture something like Meg from Hades or Lust from FMA.

Jaune: I think he’d have one of the higher pitched voices of the male cast? Definitely a tenor, speaks fast and nervously, I picture kinda like Martin Blackwood’s voice from the Magnus Archives (I have no idea what anyone’s accents are and I don’t want to think about it), or Rocky from Lackadaisy.

Nora: super high pitched and nasally, but really sweet and cute nonetheless. I’d say kinda like, Molly from Epithet Erased, or Ivy, Lackadaisy again.

Pyrrha: I think she should have the most standard teenager voice? She deserves it, she deserves normal and not exceptional. I picture, like Gwen Stacy from Spiderverse, or Wendy from Gravity Falls?

Ren: a very subdued, almost monotone voice, its not necessarily particularly low or high, but could totally drop down to something very menacing if pushed. I’m thinking, like, a chilled out version of Percy from Vox Machina, with that same ability to go right down into a danger zone.

Emerald: what if we took Cherami Leigh's Ilia voice and just moved it here what then? Other options I think would suit her would be something like Miriam from Dragon Age (Kimberly Brooks is always a win)

Penny: If Nora was high pitched I think Penny should sound like a literal child, on account of Pietro really leaning into the 'innocent little girl' thing when he was downloading voice clips to make into her synthesizer- or, hear me out: Penny voiced by a vocaloid.

#asks #scorruby au #I watch a lot of media I promise but I have FAVOURITES #this is all purely based on Vibes #I don't hate most of the mainstay rwby voice actors (except for Arryn and Miles and Barb) #but I don't think everyone's performance is great #Kara's is maybe the strongest of the main non-professional cast but there's still a slight quality gap particularly in earlier seasons #Shit I forgot adam uhhhh animated Clone Wars Anakin there we go

[leviachanmybeloved]

Strawhat cuddling Hcs

This is how I think the Strawhats would cuddle:D I already wrote for Luffy, Zoro and Sanji, so you can check those out here!! GIF not mine, creds to the owner! Also, choppers and brook's is platonic!!

Nami

So, I feel like she'd be really cozy.

That's the vibe I get from our lovely navigator

She's not that big of PDA, but hand holding or resting your head on her shoulder she can do

She enjoys soft touches, it makes her feel all fuzzy and warm

She also likes it when you lie down on her chest, vise versa

She also enjoys little kisses littered all over her skin, it flusters her

I feel like she'd be super cuddly aswell-

She def likes eskimo kisses too, especially if it’s before bed.

Just soft touches, nose rubs and soft snuggly snugs

ESPECIALLY IN WINTER OMG😭😭😭

She’d cling to you or like- be closer to you more often since it’s colder

omfg i need a cuddler like her so bad😭😭

Usopp

Yes

Best cuddler

He just looks so warm and nice and comforting

Def a 10/10 to cuddle with

He’d def say some sort of joke or tell one of his infamous stories

I feel like he’d enjoy light soft kisses

but i feel like he’d just like rubbing ur cheek with his and just staying squished there

He’s very ticklish but like- in the weirdest areas

So he’s always giggling in some way shape or form

Like, you lightly graze your fingers over his back or chest and baby would be giggling like a school girl

He also likes hand holding and like- arm linking when the crew is exploring a new island

You needed to drag him off the ship bc you weren’t gonna let his “i cant get off the ship disease” stop him from being the brave warrior of the sea

But i also think that he’d use exploring a new island a reason to be close to you yk?

someone else to hide behind<3

But yes, cuddles with usopp are soft and calm and just😩😩

Chopper

Soft and sweet

Need i say more?

Like a lil teddy bear🥹🥹

I feel like he’d be making sure every five minutes if you’re comfortable and if you’re ok or need anything

bc chopper is very worried abt his favorite person<3

He likes headpats and hugs

Even maybe like- laying his head in your lap-

He’d def deny liking it, but he’d be doin his little dancey dance while denying it-

10/10 bc we love chopper<3

Nico Robin

Motherly love

I adore this woman omg-

She’d be so calming and so so sweet🥹🥹

Warm and sweet and motherly

Definitely plays with your hair while cuddling

I feel like she’d give forehead kisses

Or like, on your hand

Especially if she’s like- holding it while walking

She’d occasionally bring your hand up to her lips and place a gentle kiss on it

possibly even mumbling words of affirmation

go to her when ur stressed

do it

she will run a bath, get your favorite drink/snack, place some candles around and make everything comfortable for you.

and she’d even offer to wash your hair and massage your back✨✨

even if she didn’t have a mom herself, i feel like she’d take care of others how she wished she could be taken care of

I feel like likes holding hands in public and small kisses here and there

not really all out like a certain love cook

but she’s great with affection, and not just touch

but all in all, robin AND cuddles????

100000000000000/10

Franky

He smells like cola

is very comfortable for a cyborg

if he sees you’re cold, he’d like- heat up like a heater and warm you up

he’s very boisterous, but i feel like he’d be a good cuddler nonetheless

i feel like he’d hum a tune to you while you’re on his chest or by his side

he does give me dad vibes so i feel like he’d be reading his newspaper and you can just lie there, listening to his breaths

he likes cheek kisses

idk why

he just looks like he’d like them✨

loves pda

not afraid to hug you anywhere or wrap an arm around your shoulder

he’s great at comfort

if you need a ear, he’s ur guy

if you need to cry, he has tissues

if you need to beat someone up, you have him and literally the entire crew

he’s there for u and at the end of it all, with ur permission will hug you

then he’ll make you laugh by doing something dumb with usopp

all in all, franky is a SUPER cuddler

1000000000/10

Brook

He’s very uh- harsh to cuddle with

yk him being a skeleton

so i feel like he’d just link arms or hold hands

he’s very calming to be around though, so that makes up for the little physical touch

he’ll make you a cup of tea or your favorite drink, then like- play some music or some small talk

he’s very comfortable to be around and he has a heart of gold

he cant do kisses cuz yk- he has no lips

YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO

But if he did, hand kisses and like- eskimo kisses

but brook is very very sweet so he gets points for it

i need someone like brook rn🥲🥲

Jinbei

Another dad, but just as comforting as the others

Very comfy

feels like a pillow

He is, much like the rest of the crew, very very comforting and welcoming

I feel like he’d like hand holding, arm linking and maybe even piggy back rides

He’s a great listener and has great advice/tips

He isn’t one for smooches, but if you asked for one he’d go for the forehead

Jinbei would also let you sit on his lap and just stay there

as much as you like his presence, he enjoys yours tho he’d never say anything abt it

jinbei and cuddles?? yes

1000000000/10

#anime #nami #cat burglar nami #usopponepiece #usopp #straw hat pirates #strawhat crew #tony tony chopper #nico robin #cyborg franky #franky one piece #brook one piece #jinbei #one piece #one piece fluff #strawhat fluff