#bags by clairo

[eliorabunny]

bags

clairo boy no further explanation needed thank u! friend!matt x fem!reader

𐀔⋆✩*｡‧“can you see me / i’m waiting for the right time” ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

𖦹 genre: fluff, friends to lovers ʚ♡ɞ

𖦹 warnings: mentions of alcohol, some swearing, suggestive at the end

𖦹 word count: 769 𖧧

𖦹 a/n: c l a i r o ! b o y ! ur telling me that first pic isn’t him. don’t play ‼️ i may do a continuation of this and get a little nsfw but only if u beg💋 ily xoxo🐇 ᵕ̈ ̤̮

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌❀°✩⋆ʚ♡ɞ⋆✩°❀﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“i don’t wanna watch tv anymore,” she mumbled.

matt looked over, a confused expression drawing his eyebrows together as he reached for the remote. “is everything okay?”

the two had been enjoying dinner and sitcom reruns, but she was growing tired of the unresolved tension. for the past few months, they would get together and share innocent cozy nights. she had reached out to matt after reconnecting at a high school reunion, and they discovered they had much more in common (mainly, a love of red wine and music on vinyl).

“yeah, i just wanna sit for a sec,” she responded idly, her mind in a rose-colored trance. her goal tonight was to confess her blossoming feelings, but nerves were getting the best of her. “maybe some wine?” matt nodded and smiled sweetly at her. fuck, that smile. her shoulders relaxed slightly and she watched as he grabbed the bottle of cabernet and two glasses.

she pulled a pillow to her stomach and brought her foot onto the couch cushion, resting her cheek on her knee and taking in the sight of matt’s fingers curled around the bottle. he pushed up the sleeves of his cream-colored cable knit sweater, and his forearms flexed as he poured their drinks. something in her stomach flipped. she turned her head away, trying to hide the slight blush forming across her cheeks. matt’s rings clinked softly against the bowls of the glasses, and he took care not to grip too harshly.

“do you want me to put on an album?” matt suggested, placing the drinks down gingerly on the coffee table. she inhaled deeply and nodded. “could you get Blue?”

“good pick,” matt murmured as he skimmed through the record crate. he found the classic indigo cover and pulled the vinyl out of its sleeve, setting it carefully on the turntable.

⋆

joni mitchell’s velvety voice skimmed across the room and covered the two in a haze, a reflection of the snowy blanket resting on the streets outside. the radiator worked overtime as the bitter northeast cold snuck in through a cracked window. a biting breeze slid along the stripe of skin between her henley and pajama pants, and she shuddered. matt’s eyes widened as she absentmindedly moved closer to him on the couch.

perhaps it was the multiple refills of wine, or the proximity, but he suddenly felt bolder. he had been avoiding his own burgeoning feelings for her, afraid to taint a healthy friendship. tonight felt different somehow. they had fallen asleep together on the couch many a time, dozing off mid-conversation, but this was more delicate. an unnamed purity shattered; some sort of barrier between them had fallen this time around.

wrapping an arm around her shoulders, matt pulled her towards him and grabbed the throw blanket that was draped along the seat back. “are you cold?” he asked pointlessly, taking her fingers in his. “let me warm you up.”

her heart rate quickened at his words. did he mean to say it like that? she giggled nervously, turning to look him in the eyes, and found a sincerity the color of denim. “c’mere,” he hummed, tugging at her shirt childishly and leaning back so his head rested on the arm of the couch. she obliged, blushing from the wine (or so she’d say), and settled on top of him, resting her ear over his heart. he hoped it wasn’t beating too loudly, and she hoped he couldn’t feel her second heartbeat against his thigh.

one by one, matt removed his rings and placed them on the coffee table next to the empty glasses. she could have sworn he let out a quiet hiss when he leaned over, and she adjusted her hips subconsciously. his hands found their way around her waist, fingertips exploring the bottom hem of her shirt. “is this okay?” he whispered as he slid long fingers beneath the fabric, the contact sending tingles across her lower back. she sighed shakily and managed to breathe out a quiet “yes.”

a relieved smile spread across matt’s face, and he was grateful she couldn’t see him in that moment. he pressed gently on her back, pulling her flush to him and creating a treacherous friction. his other hand squeezed the pillowy flesh above her hip, as if kneading dough.

“what was the name you were talking about the other day?” his question caught her off guard. just yesterday, someone had brought up pet names in conversation, and she’d mentioned that her favorite was “bunny.” he pretended to forget it a little longer, before speaking down into her hair.

“you feel so soft, bunny.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌❀°✩⋆ʚ♡ɞ⋆✩°❀﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[quillthrillswriting]

i think that by far, the most common zutara trope i've seen is zuko freeing katara from her unhappy marriage with the clingy, unappreciative aang.

i've always felt that that aang would genuinely worship the ground katara walked on and be exceedingly kind and respectful, and so i've always thought that this trope would make a lot more sense flipped, with aang in the position of being katara's safe space after zukko reverts back to his angry, sullen, lashing out persona that he was before uncle iroh & the gaang's involvement.

this fic is the result of me having the thought "might f around and write a kataang fic that flips the usual zutara trope of "zuko helps katara escape a failing relationship with aang" 😳"

---

Zuko was all alone, heading an entire empire and facilitating the transition of his nation from a war-bringer to a force for peace. At first, she told herself that it was only because he had needed help that she chose to stay with him, but that wasn’t being entirely honest. After that play on Ember Island, all of the scenes where the two of them were in love had opened Katara’s eyes to the possibility, and try as she might, she couldn’t shut them again. And Zuko, after all that he’d sacrificed to help them, after redeeming himself in her eyes, even fighting alongside her, he had seemed like her best chance at home. 

So she had stayed with him. 

---

Zuko proposed, after just six months, but Katara thought little of the brief timeline. When you know, you know, right? He had given her his mother’s ring, and had her dress in Fire Nation colours for the ceremony. She had been under the impression that the wedding would be a welding of cultures, and so she had spent weeks painstakingly carving a traditional water tribe proposal necklace. 

When she had presented it to him, Zuko had only said that a Fire Lord couldn’t be seen wearing another nation’s trinkets . She had quietly dabbed away her tears when he wasn’t looking.

---

The moon rose and set six more nights before Katara rose with it, slipping outside of the castle during the changing of the guard, draped in traditional water tribe colours for the first night in years. Before anyone had seen her, she had made it, slipping between Fire Nation homes almost silently. She only paused to pull clothes and a cloth head covering from a clothesline, silently apologizing to whatever family she had just stolen from. She tucked a couple of coins and a piece of gold jewellery into one of the pockets of the pants still on the clothesline, an attempt at making amends for her crime, then blended into the night again. 

She hadn’t stopped moving until she’d finally found a small forest, then she’d made herself a bed of moss and curled up as if she was a child back on the tundra, pretending to be a sleeping snow fox alongside Sokka.

She missed her brother. She missed her home.

---

She knew where she would go once the cargo ship reached the land. The last location Aang had been in was the Western Air temple. So that was where she would go. If she needed to, to find Aang, she’d scour every inch of the mainland. She knew he would do the same for her. Which begged the question- why hadn’t he come to her when he began to feel that something was off?

It was that question that Katara started with, as she settled into a comfortable position on Aang’s woven rug, a cup of hot tea curling steam around her body that she absent-mindedly bent into shapes around her.

---

Aang sighed, looking away. “Katara, I hate to give you more reasons to feel distressed, but in case you hadn’t remembered, you told me to stay away. Told me my “juvenile crush” was ridiculous and made you uncomfortable. I felt awful, and so, I backed off. I kept sending letters every couple months, trying to make sure you were okay, but you told me you were too busy, and I respected that.”

Katara’s tone was unsettlingly neutral when she responded. “...What?”

Aang titled his head, confused. “You said, in your letters, that-”

She responded in that same tone. “What letters , Aang?”

♥ the rest of the (completed) fic can be found here!! ->

[kestisvrse]

scars

pairing ⋆ anthony lockwood x gn!reader. angst.

synopsis ⋆ you find a bruised and bloody lockwood in the kitchen late at night.

warnings ⋆ shitty writing (it was late 😔), mentions of blood, injuries, a panic attack and violence, swearing. | wc: 0.9k

♫ - all things end by hozier

something wasn’t right. you woke up at around four in the morning, which wasn’t unusual for an agent but your gut told you there was a reason.

your throat was uncomfortably dry, you unwillingly crawled out of your warm bed into the chilly air, bare feet landing on the cool floor, you quickly grab some socks to warm yourself.

walking down the creeky staircase, careful to not alert your sleeping roomates, but clearly they weren’t all asleep as the kitchen light was left on and a faint hiss was heard. approaching the door, turning the knob slowly to not alarm whoever was in the kitchen, you saw a bloody and bruised lockwood sitting at the table, head shooting up at the sight of you.

“lockwood?” you gasped at the sight in-front of you. the table was littered with medical supplies and lockwood sat there in his white collared shirt, blood seeping through the left side, small cuts littered his face, “what the fuck happened?”

“i’m sorry, did i wake you? i didn’t mean to, i’m fine.” he rambled excuses as you rushed over to sit next to him, you smacked his hands away as he begged you to go back to bed.

“i am not going back to bed, anthony.” you insisted, he was fighting back tears from the pain of his injury, jaw clenching, “let me help you, while you tell me what the hell you did.”

he observed you as you grabbed the correct ointments and bandages to use for his face, as he gripped onto his side, his eyes didn’t leave your face as you worked away on the cuts on his face, he waited awhile until he started talking again.

“i-i went out, the air in the house was too stuffy i needed a walk.” his voice was cracking as he spoke, sniffling every so often, you glanced down at his eyes to catch a tear slip out, anthony lockwood was crying.

you had never seen him cry, it didn’t matter how often he opened up to you, all you saw was his eyes get glossy and he would run off, but you watched as the tear rolled down his cheek and disappear to his neck.

“take your shirt off.” you broke the silence.

“what?” he sniffled

“lockwood, do you not see the huge blood stain on your shirt? i need to check that.” you said softly

“i’m fin-“ he started

“stop saying that. please stop, let me help you.” you pleaded, your eyes were getting glossy just at the sight of him, his face cleaned up and bandaged but his shirt still covered in blood and dirt, the grip on his side loosened revealing his hand covered in blood. he slowly undid the buttons of his shirt, unveiling a huge gash on his side, you gasped at the sight and he flinched.

you got up to wash your hands, and grab extra bandages out of the cupboard, returning to your spot finding lockwood intensely staring at his bloodied hands, you placed your hand in his.

“look at me, focus on me.” you asked, he listened as his gaze snapped up to you, his brows knitted together, “talk to me.”

“there were so many, so many ghosts down at the park, i almost forgot they even existed because of how…” he cleared his throat due to the stinging from you cleaning his side, “..because of how anxious i was feeling, i forgot about them and got attacked, i-i i don’t know how i survived.” his voice cracked, you had never seen him like this.

“keep talking okay? distract yourself from the pain. i’m right here, i’ve got you.” you whispered softly, comforting him as he controlled his breathing once more.

“i did remember my rapier, thank god. gave me an opening to run. i got thrown back into a tree, that’s where the cuts came from and a loose branch stuck into my side.” he whimpered as you disinfected the wound.

“okay, that’s enough. focus on your breathing you are getting too worked up.” he nodded, mouth twitching into a smile just because of your company, you continued to work on stitching his wound and bandaging it.

“all done.” you sighed, you cleaned the table and washed your hands as he watched your every move. bringing him a glass of water you sat next to him again.

“i’m sorry, if i scared you, or woke you i don’t know-“ he stuttered out, you grabbed his hand and interlocked your fingers.

“of course you scared me. i woke up to find you dying in the kitchen. i wish you had come to get me.” you explained, you brought your hand up to his cheek and he lent into it, “i’m here for you lockwood, always, asleep or awake, i am here.” a minute of comfortable silence passes.

“at least i’ll have a cool scar.” he muttered, you laughed at his joke the tears that were welling in your eyes disappeared down your cheeks and onto the floor, he brought his arm around your waist pulling you and your chair closer.

“let’s get you to bed, you need it.” you said, his eyes were drooping as he sipped his water. you hand’s intertwined together as you led him upstairs into his room.

george barged into the room the next morning as lockwood had overslept, only to find you cuddled together in a mess of blankets, lockwood covered in bandages, both sound asleep.

[daystarpoet]

ര ۪ ݁ ! bags by clairo 𝅄 ౨ৎ ㅤ۪

"can you see me, I'm waiting for the right time. i can't read you but if you want the pleasure's all mine."

bags by clairo. immunity. top sapphic songs. one of my fav all time songs. she sings beautifully. clairo the queen u are.

[pickingberrys]

clairos new instagram post (omg)

[collectionofblondemoments]

This reminds me of when I dreamt of a domestic life with her where we got married and I took the trash out on Sundays. And I woke up and cried because I didn’t yearn for anything incredible; just an impossible, ordinary life with her.

[neilperryismine]

I’m slowly gathering songs that I ultimately associate with each dps ship (that I can never listen to again without thinking about them) and so far I’ve got:

bags by clairo for anderperry

and the 1 by taylor swift for knarlie

im working on the other ships, any suggestions?

[elliesscared]

NIKA TO BAGS????

[shibaleeart]

Siri, play Bags by Clairo

[macaulaytwins]

Electric Lady version obviously

[fearoftherot]

I AM LIVING BAGS BY CLAIRO HELP ME

[eliorabunny]

y’all aren’t even ready for what i’m dropping tomorrow…..

[quillthrillswriting]

i think the idea that everyone else knew aang was in love with katara far before she did is such a funny and under-explored trope.

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

“Aang? In love with you?” Sokka pondered it for a moment. “I mean, it checks out.”

“I-” Katara frowned, flustered by the second confirmation that day. “I didn’t say love .”

“I know.” Sokka shrugged. “But I did. C’mon, Katara, did you not see the way he looked at you when he got out of that iceberg?”

“Yeah, and I saw the way he looked at all those girls on Kyoshi, and that fire nation girl he danced with, and-”

Sokka cut her off with a single hand to the face. “Jet. Haru.”

“Touché.”

“To be honest, I always assumed he did and you knew, but just chose to skip around it to protect your friendship.” Sokka shrugged.

“I just- it wasn’t at the forefront of my mind. He’d just gotten out of an iceberg, he was so busy with everything. And he can just be so confusing. I feel like we never got the timing right. I mean, I thought that maybe something would happen after he got back from defeating the fire lord- I thought that once it was out of the way, we could be something, but…” She let out a soft sigh. “I guess not.”

“Katara.” Sokka awkwardly patted her back. “There, there.”

She shot him a glare.

♥ the rest of the fic can be found here ->

[strawberrihart]

so putting bags by clairo on a playlist about me was just platonic?

[twintravelers]

bags by clairo is such a haikaveh song bc nothing screams haikaveh more than a song about wanting to express your feelings to the other person but not being in a rush to do it because you’re afraid of driving the other person away because you’re not sure how they feel and you’d rather keep whatever bond you have with them now than to ruin everything (again).. and you don’t want them to leave.. literally some of clairo’s annotations are so haikaveh coded it hurts my heart

[pickingberrys]

clairo + bows