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Wow. Okay. I've just been thinking about what I'd love to see when Buddie goes canon and OMG. Hold on. Let me explain.

Picture this: Buck is realizing that he misplaced his feelings for Eddie onto Tommy and is freaking out because what do you mean I actually like my best friend?! And he notices little stuff Tommy does that gives him the ick etc. Meanwhile, Chris is back with Eddie and obviously Eddie is going to therapy and trying to figure his shit out.

NOW: Buck and Tommy break up. It's amicable. Not a big deal. He's moving on. But now he doesn't know what to do with all these big feelings and he's realizing sooo many things and has like flashbacks from years back. And at some point he can't hold back anymore because Eddie's his best friend and we know from 7x5 that he can't lie to Eddie and keep stuff from him.

So he goes to him and confesses like: "I'm sorry Eds, but I'm going crazy here. I love you, I'm actually in love with you." And Eddie's like: "What. No. Wait. Uh. No. Huh??" And he FREAKS out internally because what do you mean my best friend's in love with me. No that's not right. (omg this is getting so long please bear with me)

After all this I want to see episodes of them just being awkward as shit. Like MULTIPLE EPISODES!! Their shoulders brush and they go: Fuck sorry, omg, um *awkward laughter* Or one of them puts his hand on the others shoulder because they've done this millions of times before and they go wide eyes and get flustered. Or you have them on a call together and they need to lift something and they get really close and you can see on their faces how they short circuit and freeze up.

And you can drag this out for so many episodes, just sprinkle that shit in there next to some other storylines happening to the other characters. THE PINING!!! The awkward tension.

BUT THEN. You have them slowly getting comfortable with the idea of them becoming a thing and UGHH can you imagine the longing stares and like gently leaning into the touches. Like. You can build up that tension sooo fucking good.

And when they finally kiss it's something so soft and slow. Not that 'let me shut you up and break you off mid sentence' stuff with Tommy. Maybe they're at Eddie's place, Chris just went to bed and they're on the couch and then Eddie makes the first move just reaching for Bucks neck or something. And they just stare at each other. Their Eyes. Their Lips. And it's so full of tension. They breathe heavily and the entire scene is so loaded after all of this building up from episodes ago. And they get closer, noses brush and then they kiss and it's slow but hungry.

And I don't fucking know what comes after that but do you see the vision. I WOULD EAT THAT SHIT UP!!!

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Update: she’s taken over my every waking thought.

Creating OCs for any piece of media I consume is my passion

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Creating OCs for any piece of media I consume is my passion

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I have been cooking

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Reblog to open a rail line from your blog to the person you reblogged this from

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As much as I can agree supernatural isn’t the most incredible show in the world, I don’t think there’s ever been a character that’s stuck with me and that I’ve related to more than Sam Winchester. My autism grabbed him and ran

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Has anyone got any Sam Winchester x reader fic recs with absolutely ZERO smut? I’m planning to write some of my own to post anyday now (when I figure out the ending) but for now… I need recs people pls

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Crows Silhouette Portraits, Part 1/3: Kanej

Helnik Wesper

Does this style suit them or what?

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I love this man so much btw and can’t find any bootlegs of him anywhere!!! SOMEOJE HELP PLS

Dom Simpson as Christian: I am both excited and deeply concerned for my well-being.

I'm not going to survive.

📷 Moulin Rouge London insta reels, Tanisha Spring insta

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If you have read and liked this fic: my requests are open! Go crazy in my asks :D

Please.

Kaz Brekker x gn!reader

Summary: Kaz struggles with affection and touch, but he has to do something to stop you from going on a heist that could possibly kill you. 

ASK: N/A

Warnings: Kaz being Kaz, maybe slightly ooc Kaz as its my first time writing, injury, talks of death, slight ptsd

word count: 1171

Kaz sat in his office with the door closed, not a single sound escaping from under the crack. It was something you and the Crows were used to but it didn’t stop you from wondering if he was ok. While you and Jesper worked the bar - chatting happily with the pigeons that you liked to call your regulars, Wylan and Nina sat in the corner of the room, drawing out plans, Matthias had just gone outside to follow after someone who hadn’t paid and Inej was probably somewhere near - you just couldn’t see her.

The next heist was days away and both yours and Inej’s talents with staying quiet would come in handy. Though you weren’t a master spy like your Suli friend, nor could you fight in the same acrobatic way as she, you were nimble and silent, an intimidating quiet in a room full of leaders. That and you were amazing with knives. However, there was one flaw in every plan the group came up with, one that could prove to be life or death for you and Inej. The guards were never off duty and they always had guns. You’d have to fight to get past them.

It eventually got to two in the morning and the Crow Club was finally closing, yet there hadn’t even been the sound of Kaz’s uneven footsteps creaking across the floor. You sat on the other side of the bar as Jesper cleaned glasses, annoyed look in his eyes.

Eventually he turned to you. “I could use some help, you know?” Jesper spoke in mock annoyance, but any joking emotions on his face dropped when he saw the worry in your eyes. “Look, y/n, if you’re that worried about him, then go up there. Bring him tea or something.” You met his eyes and sighed, nodded slowly as you headed to the kitchens to make him a drink and some sort of food.

You headed up to his office with a hot cup of tea and a few pastries you had found in the pantry. You gently pushed open the door and the slithers of light from the hallway seeped into the room. Kaz sat at his desk, face lit only by a singular lamp that cast sickly shadows on his sharpened features. He looked tired. He glanced up as you stepped further inside, a tired frown on his features.

“Y/n, I’m busy,” he muttered quietly, head falling gently over his eyes. His attention returned to the plans in front of him. You placed down the plate and mug on the table and smiled softly.

He looked at the plate in confusion as you spoke, “I brought you some food, and a drink.” He didn’t respond so you sat down in the chair opposite him. “You’ve been here for hours, Kaz. You need to take a break.”

He put a gloved hand against his temple and sighed, “There’s no time for breaks. Every detail needs to be perfect, this has to go smoothly for us.”

You nodded in understanding, this was a difficult thing for any person, let alone a group of teenagers. “I know, Kaz. we’re all working hard.” Kaz finally looked up at you for more than three seconds and his eyes narrowed into an unreadable expression.

“You and Inej are crucial to this plan, it wouldn’t be possible without you. But-” He cut himself off, breath catching in his throat. His next words were a whisper, “But I don’t want you to go.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, why was he changing his mind now, so soon before the heist?

You sat for a while, not knowing what to say, eventually, you assumed it was him not wanting to lose his two best ‘spies’ in one go. “Kaz, we’ve done this hundreds of times, Inej and I are fully prepared for whatever happens. You don’t have to worry.”

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor, scratching over the previous marks in the wood. His eyes seemed to hold a fervour to them you had never seen before. “It’s more than just the heist, Y/N. This job is dangerous. I can’t afford to lose anyone. I can’t afford to lose…you.”

You blinked a few times in confusion, not understanding where his sincerity had come from. He breathed out slowly and, almost as if it were against his human nature to do so, gingerly stepped forward, his eyes glued to your hands. “You’re important to me, Y/N.” His gaze flitted up to meet yours and his brows furrowed in what looked like pain as he stepped closer still. “Promise me you’ll get out if things get too dangerous.”

A sigh escaped your lips and you shook your head, “I’m not a child, Kaz. I’ve gone through worse, multiple times. You can’t expect me to stop now because you suddenly gained the ability to feel empathy.” You whispered. You hadn’t meant it to sound harsh, but the words sliced through him and his gaze lowered. Turning to the door, you began to walk away, aiming to get a semblance of a good night's sleep before the manic day of final planning began tomorrow.

Despite this aim, you only got part way toward the door when you felt cool leather grip your wrist. You gasped at the sensation and turned to see Kaz holding you in place. He breathed out shakily and his eyes closed for a moment, almost as if he were trying to calm himself. You gave him time. “Please.”

It was one word, barely a whisper above the sounds of Ketterdam from Kaz’s open window, yet it felt like a stone wall he had spent years building with his own scarred hands had come crumbling down. Heavy rocks he had cemented together with avoidance and fear fell onto his feet, pushing themselves against his chest and Jordie’s pained body lay on the other side. He withered there for a moment, trying to calm himself. He could feel the warmth of your hands through his gloves - the sensation blurring the memories of the cold bodies beneath him. He breathed in once more, eyes still shut.

“Please.”

You found yourself unable to breathe, not knowing how to deal with his vulnerability, it wasn’t something the Crows were known for. “Kaz…” You trailed off, moving closer and readjusting to hold his hand in both of yours. You worked slowly, trying to keep the both of you as calm as possible. His hand shook under yours and you released slightly, the ghost of your hand still gently touching his. “I can’t leave Inej to go alone.”

He met your eyes and nodded. He knew it would be how you'd reply. You were too good to all the people around him, too good for him. Eventually, Kaz pulled his hand away, the feeling of another person that close to him becoming too much. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, “I shouldn’t have asked that of you.”

He let you leave.

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New exciting concept: what if Kaz was happy?

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Introducing a new oc: Hera AKA The Watcher

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Gay people apply permanent damage to their hip bone just stand a bit more freakish and slutty

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Amendmends - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[Part II]

[contains vulgar language]

SUMMARY: When two of your thugs get into a fight at the Slat, you have to go apologize in person. The owner seems suspiciously happy to have you indebted to him.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.9k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

“You did what?!”

The two men flinch. Feeling too humiliated to look the incandescent bull in the eye, they resort to twiddling their thumbs and riveting their gazes into the cracked, wooden floor. They’re not greenhorns and neither are they unfamiliar with your character, so it’s unclear why they ever thought this confrontation would go in any way differently. Perhaps some juvenile naivety told them this moment would, simply, never come.

“We got into a fight,” one of them repeats. Fear makes his voice waver, resounding a lot quieter than the first time he announced their misdeed. The humiliation only gnaws further at his heart as the boy involuntarily relives all of the reprimands he had received from his parents.

His partner in crime lets out a defeated sigh. The man nudges his friend and whispers: “Come on, Sorokin, she’ll know anyway.” With a sour expression on his face, he lifts his gaze to look at the woman standing behind the desk. Your nostrils are flared as you breathe hard trying to maintain composure. The unfaltering scowl you wear so well makes him gulp. “We started a fight at the Slat. One of the patrons was cheating, wasn’t even doing it very well, so we thought it was our civic duty to put it to a stop.”

You lean forward ever so slightly, hinging on your arms. Although you’re in all ways smaller than them, it doesn’t affect their fright:  wolves, after all, also seem not as big when they're preparing to pounce. Words leave your mouth like venom slowly dripping from a viper’s fangs: “You have no fucking civic duty on the Crows’ turf, you bellend.”

“Boss, we-”

Sorokin immediately stops talking when you raise your hand in a quieting gesture. You close your eyes and clench the raised hand into a fist. Only after a slow, deep breath can you continue:

“Just shut your mouth while you still can move it freely. I don’t care for your excuses and promises to do better because I’m the one who has to go to Kaz Brekker and apologize on your behalf.” You push yourself away from the decorative, engraved desk. Unknowingly, you’re shaking your head, looking away from the two bullyboys for a moment. In a gesture of frustration, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Saints only know what he’ll want for giving up retaliation,” you say under your breath. A moment of tense, reflective silence goes by before your gaze returns to the two men. The scowl immediately reappears. “What’re you standing here for? Fuck off.”

With a flick of your wrist, the crooks bolt out the door, praising the Saints that they get to see another day. Maybe they are the ones scrubbing the floors pro bono for the next two weeks but at least they’re alive. Considering the genius loci of Ketterdam, that is as good as anything.

Jesper and Inej do not pay attention to the constant opening and closing of doors to the Slat - there’s no point. Their curiosity, however, is piqued when the noise of the lively club becomes muffled and cheering turns into low murmurs and grunts. Although positioned in completely different places, they simultaneously look towards the entrance, wondering what menace could strike reluctance into the heartless thugs of the Barell.

As expected as it wasn’t, considering the area, it’s a woman. In an utter lack of taste and respect for social etiquette, you’re dressed in rather expensive men’s clothing. You even have a decorative cane with a panther’s head on top, although the item is strangely short, suggesting that it’s more of a status symbol than a mobility aid. Golden accessories, proof of acquired wealth, glimmer in the low, yellow lights of the club. 

“Should we do something?” Inej whispers to Jesper, making him flinch in surprise. Really, how is she doing it time and time again?

“No way, Inej,” he laughs dryly at the notion. “It’s the Golden Panther herself. We’ve no bad blood with her and let’s hope it can stay that way.”

The name isn't in any way the stranger's own incentive - only what the victims saw right before being knocked out cold: golden, heavy rings and a black tattoo of a roaring panther on the back of your hand. Some of the more egotistic goons in Ketterdam try to mimic the artwork with other supposedly dangerous animals but it never has the same ominous feeling.

“Then why is she walking straight towards us?”

His gaze returns to the unexpected guest. Inej is right - in an unbothered stroll, you’re making your way to them. When the Panther’s stern, cold gaze meets his, the man feels anxiety building up in his chest. If Kaz had a sister, that would be her. In any other circumstances, he’d laugh at that thought but with the fiend in front of him, humour has somehow fled.

Jesper slowly puts down his drink, his other hand mindlessly resting on top of the revolver behind his belt. “I don’t know but I don’t like this.”

Inej scrunches her nose. "I always imagined it’s a man."

"Well, I thought she'd be, you know, bigger,” Jesper says in a hushed voice. The Slat is strangely quiet and you’re sure to hear his comment if he speaks any louder. “Considering Panther and all."

You stop in front of them. Physique-wise, you don’t seem very threatening to either of the Crows. No, it’s something in the air, as though your presence elicits some kind of aura that makes people want to flee from sight, noisy lowlifes become as meek as sheep. Jesper wonders if this is how aristocrats and politicians feel when someone mentions the Queen of Beggars.

Golden Panther looks between the two of them. In an unexpectedly polite fashion, both of your hands are holding the decorative cane. After a moment, your gaze stops on Jesper. You look him up and down but he’s unsure whether he should feel threatened or flattered.

“You’re the one who got into that fight yesterday, aren’t you?” you finally ask.

Oh, that.

Jesper grips the gun tighter. “Yeah, that would be me.”

You put your hand into the pocket of your dress trousers, apathetic eyes still set on him, and pull out a wad of banknotes. Without looking at them, never even thinking to count the amount, you lay it next to his drink on the bar counter.

“For the trouble. Buy yourself something nice. Where’s the owner?”

“In his office,” Jesper answers with a vague motion of his hand.

With a curt nod of your head, you leave the two Crows to find the man you’ve been truly looking for. When you’re out of earshot, the stairs creaking under your weight, Jesper turns to Inej:

“Did I just get pocket money from Lady Belladonna?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“I’m afraid you did.”

Immediately, he grabs the wad of cash, counting the banknotes. His eyes only grow wider as the stack of 50s doesn’t seem to end - Jesper Fahey is suddenly something of a rich man.

You don’t knock. The door swings open and Kaz is about to tell off anyone who’s disturbing him when he notices you standing on the threshold. Without a word of either warning or welcome, he grabs his cane. Twisting off the top of your staff, you pull the accessory slightly apart, revealing a sharp blade hidden inside.

“Show me yours, tough guy. Bet mine’s bigger,” you jest. Then you close the cane and Kaz, although hesitant, lets go of his. “I come in peace.” 

“What brings you here?” he asks impatiently.

You take a deep breath and sigh. The chair in front of him is left vacant but considering the reason for your visit, it would be impolite to sit around. “I’d like to apologize.” Kaz raises his eyebrows in surprise. He knows the business well enough to know that people of your sort don’t adhere to courtesy often. “The fight that broke out yesterday? My boys. They weren’t supposed to be here but that doesn’t change anything. What’s done is done and since they wear claws around their necks, they’re my responsibility.”

For a moment you look away, biting the inside of your cheek. It’s the right thing to do but Saints’ mercy, is it humiliating. Kaz doesn’t say anything, curious anticipation egging him to let the tense silence squeeze the truth out of you.

You look at him again. The anger of having to fawn on someone makes you tighten the grip on your cane. "I can pay you for the damages but I can't undo the injuries or the fucking headache. Instead, I'm offering you my service. One job, no matter how bloody insane, I'll do it. Just leave my boys alone."

Kaz sits back in his chair, taking in the fascinating turn of events. In all of your demimonde courtesy, you’ve done exactly what he had expected you to do. You swear there’s a shadow of a grin creeping unto his face and that’s when you realize you’ve probably manoeuvred yourself into a problematic, inescapable corner. If half of the stories they say about him are true, you’re going to shake hands with death herself in the nearest future, probably more than once.

A scoff flies past your lips. You look at him through squinted eyes but he doesn’t seem to mind that. Why would he? He just scored a jackpot without stepping out of his office.

“I know that look, Brekker,” you stress the sudden lack of courtesy. “You’ve been waiting for this moment your whole fucking life, haven’t you? The Golden Panther at your beck and call.”

“There is one job that will utilize your methods,” he puts a strange, although meaningful stress on the word, “but it’s nothing sure for now.”

He plays his cards well. So well, in fact, that you can’t tell whether he’s honest or bluffing. The only thing you are sure of is that if he lives up to his name, Kaz is bound to have some kind of ace up his sleeve, even if it’s unadulterated rage - he will either find or create a problem for you to solve, never as much as entertain the thought of passing up on your offer.

There is simply no way that a man of his skill and expertise doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. Like those miserable churchgoers praying to the Saints for a sign, you too now have to obediently await the fateful word of Kaz Brekker. You’re a fiddle and through your own goodwill, you have appointed him a fucking virtuoso.

“I’ll be anticipating your word, Brekker,” you grit the last bits of politeness through your teeth. “In the meantime, don’t try to think about me too often. Might neglect your business and the panther…” your voice trails off and you shrug with faux innocence, “The panther only needs to find you once.”

“It’s a bold assumption that I spend any minute of my time thinking about you.”

“Well, you’re doing it now, aren’t you?” The cocky smile on your face only annoys him. “До свидания,” you throw while vaguely saluting at him.

When the door shuts behind you, Kaz lets out a frustrated sigh. You’re going to make this whole operation incomparably easier for him - that is, if he doesn’t kills you first. For the sake of his sanity.

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And girl fish? What me they want with girls?

fish me fear want girls me

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reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

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Brekker? I hardly know her!