#why do you look like that sit why don’t you look like a crow picked up from a dumpster

[starpros-sunshine]

Guess what I’ve been doing for the last few hours.

[mistiell]

We Keep this Love in a Photograph

summary: since Joel gifted you a polaroid camera for your birthday, you've developed a habit of sneaking pictures of him whenever possible. He doesn't think he's worth the film "wasted" (His words, not yours), but after catching you looking over your accumulated gallery, you manage to win him over.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Joel's a little self conscious, Reader's gender isn't specified, and they have hair but the length isn't specified either. If I accidentally did use a gendered term, lmk and I shall fix it. <3 NOT PROOFREAD (will likely come back to fix any mistakes later)

a/n: HOLY SHIT I'M BACK!!! This fic was inspired by this TikTok. I saw it and the Joel obsession possessed me so viscerally I had to make a comeback lmao.

**NOTE: I've linked ways to help Palestine here. If you're in a position to donate anything at all, please do! If not, you can reblog the post that's linked so it gets out to more people.

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It started on your birthday.

You’d shared with Joel one evening, wrapped warm and snug in his arms within your soft haven of sheets, during one of those late night conversations where vulnerability doesn’t seem like a thing so daunting, that you used to love photography. Loved immortalizing things you loved or things you found beautiful. He’d asked what kind of camera you’d had, what kind of things you usually took pictures of.

“Polaroid.” you’d told him softly, fighting you keep your eyes open with his tracing shapes into the curve of your waist. “And I already told you. Whatever I found beautiful.”

The morning of your birthday, you woke to the smell of coffee and a clumsily wrapped box sitting on your bedside table with a note taped to the top; Happy birthday, honey. Love, Joel. And in smaller print near the bottom left corner; P.S. Wait until I’m here to open it. Wanna see your face.

You’d smiled, bashful, brushed your teeth in record time, scooped up the box, and made your way downstairs towards the sound sizzling and the tapping of a spatula on a pan. He gave you a good morning kiss, pretended to make a fuss about waiting until after breakfast to open it and watched with a smile as you carefully tore it open, popped off the lid, and visibly softened at first sight of the contents.

It was a polaroid camera. Coincidentally, the very same one you’d had twenty years ago.

You’d cried, he’d panicked. You hugged him so fiercely, any worry that he’d fucked the whole thing vanished as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you close.

That was months ago, and in the time since, you’ve accumulated quite the gallery. You take pictures of just about anything and everything, but your main muse is Joel.

Which is what’s led you to have half a shoe box full of polaroid of mostly him. He’s no idea of your little stash, and you intend to keep it that way. You’ve come to learn he’s got a thing about being photographed. Always nitpicking his appearance no matter what you say. He asks sometimes when he catches you why you don’t choose something nicer to look at, and your answer is generally always the same. There is nothing nicer. He walks into a room, and all you want to look at is him. Yeah, he’s got some more lines, got some more meat on his bones, his hair is a little more grey than it is brown these days. But he doesn’t see it the way you do.

He’s got crows feet and smile lines etched almost as deep as the crease between his brows. He looks healthy now that he’s actually got food to eat, meals you’re both sure to share every morning in your kitchen and every evening in the dining hall. His greys are a tangible reminder that he’s alive, that he’s survived, and that he now gets to live, and you’re incomprehensibly grateful for every russet strand turned silver. He’s all the more beautiful for all of it. And here, tucked into your armchair, polaroid pinched between thumb and forefinger, you get to commit every little detail picked up by your camera to memory.

Your gaze follows the sloping curve of his lovely nose, profile softened by the sun shining white behind. It’s only one half of his face, but the beaming smile he’s sporting makes you feel whole. His hair was just starting to get longer, then, curling near his nape and flicking round his ears to kiss his jaw.

“What’s all this?” You startle, head leaning into the plush back of the chair to look at him upside down as you press the pictures into your diaphragm. He seems curious, if a little confused.

Caught, you swallow, “If I said nothing, would you believe me?”

“Not for a second.” He smiles teasingly, bending to give you a quick peck, bottom lip warm where it slots between yours. Your hold on the photos loosens, and when his gaze dips to them, the smile shifts into something closer to a frown, a little cagey, “S’ that me?”

“Yeah.” You answer simply, before joking tentatively, “Swear I’m not a creep. You’re just pretty.”

“See now, that’s exactly what a creep would say.” He teases, and you’re glad for it – that he’s not upset. Rounding the chair, he sits on the arm, elbow propped up on the soft back of it and knuckles warm on the nape of your neck.

“Pretty.” He echoes, blowing a short puff of air out his nose, “Never been called that before.”

“Well, you are.”

He smiles again, bashful and a little disbelieving. There’s a short moment where he just looks at you like that, backs of his fingers sliding down your spine a few notches then back up in a tender line before he juts his chin toward your collection. “Show me?”

Warmth blooms in your stomach and fizzes up behind your sternum. You grin, handing him the one you were holding before sifting through the shoe box for your best works. He accepts your compliments and sweet talking reluctantly, but hangs onto your every word as you describe where you were, what you were doing, what made you sneak the picture in the first place.

You start to worry his limited responses mean he’s gotten caught up in his head until his hand slides up the side of your neck and settles over the side of your head, the warmth of his calloused palm encompassing the entirety of your ear as he guides your temple to his lips.

“Love you.” He murmurs into your hair, and the warmth sizzles like its carbonated, bubbling and burbling within the cage of your ribs.

You turn your face, slip your fingers beneath the curtain of hair at his nape and lift your chin to kiss him soft and slow. He rubs an affectionate line into the soft skin behind your hear as he hums, vibrations thrumming against your lips.

You lean back just enough to murmur, “I love you to.”

He smiles, kisses you again. And again. And once more. He asks you to show him more of your pictures, and you oblige. It’s early evening when you’re finally through, at which point Ellie’s come home and Joel’s started on dinner. You let her sift through the polaroids while you move to join Joel at the counter.

You won’t realize until later that she’s snuck a photo of the two of you by the stove, Joel’s large palm on the small of your back where you’ve taken over stirring a pot, gazing at you like you’re the only thing he’d like to listen to for the rest of his days as you talk and talk and talk.

That one, he hangs on the fridge.

[ichorai]

i'm not made by design ; part two ; jaime lannister.

part one.

pairing ; jaime lannister x stark!reader (she/her pronouns)

synopsis ; wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

words ; 9.0k

themes ; heavy angst, action, fluff, (actual) enemies to lovers, slowburn

warnings / includes ; war/murder/injury, this part covers a few events from a feast for crows, politicking, mentions of incest/rape, foul language, animal cruelty, a lot of generally terrible things going on but what else can you expect from asoiaf, lots of dreams, jaime is a morally grey delight in this part yes, they are being HAUNTED by each other!

a/n ; wow, it's been a long time coming! ok i know this part is quite short and doesn't yet get to where you guys probably want to be, but tumblr has a max limit of 1k text blocks per post now (boo everyone throw tomatoes) so i'll be posting the rest of the story in smaller chunks! expect the third part to be coming soon, and i promise part three will start off exactly where you guys want it to be :) also if any of you can spot any sort of parallels in this part i will kiss you on the Mouth .

main masterlist. read on ao3!

The wintry breeze tousled the two young Stark girls’ hair, whispering frost into their ears. The horse the two were riding whickered as it galloped through the snow. Lyanna was exclaiming something, something lost to the wind, and you only held all the tighter to her from behind. 

“Lyanna, I want to get off!” you yelled, tugging at the furs draped over her. “Lyanna, let me off!”

Your older sister laughed some more. Not wickedly, but more out of fond amusement. She slowed the horse down to a languid canter, then to a trot, and led the stallion towards the shade of a tree. There was snow blanketing the branches and the grass which crunched beneath her weight as she swung down. She looked up at you with her large grey eyes, crinkled at the corners as she grinned boyishly. “Were you frightened?” 

You held your arms out for your sister to help you down. Only at eight years of age, you were still of short stature, and Lyanna had picked a rather tall horse. She had always been a voracious rider, even more so than all your brothers.

“I wasn’t frightened,” you indignantly replied as she wrapped her arms about your waist and pulled you down onto the ground. 

“Right.” She began to stroke the stallion’s mane, his hooves pawing at the snow. “Do you not trust me, then? Did you think I would ride us right off the edge of a cliff?”

“No,” you replied, scuffing your boots against the snow. “I don’t like riding from behind. I can’t see anything from back there.”

There was a moment of silence before Lyanna reached over to ruffle your hair—an action that both she and Benjen often did. Eddard and Brandon often spared you from such irritations, but being the youngest of the family, you were always doted on and hovered over and babied.

“I don’t trust you riding a horse as big as this, so I suppose we can walk back. It’s not too far.”

“Why can’t I just sit in front of you?”

Your sister stuck her tongue out at you. “We’ve got something in common, you know. What makes you think I like sitting behind?” When you glowered at her, she went on, “Let’s get a move on. Ned will complain that I’m stealing you away—especially since he’s just returned. He misses you. Your letters grow briefer and briefer, he tells me.”

You were none too happy about trudging through the snow, but you voiced no complaint and walked alongside your sister, who tugged at the horse’s reins to follow along. 

“He’s always going back and forth,” you said, a small frown marring your features. “I wish he would just stay home. The Eyrie couldn’t possibly compare to Winterfell.”

“You know him.” Lyanna’s dark hair was speckled with snowflakes as she turned to you. “Studious and dutiful as ever.” Her voice went an octave deeper and she pulled a mockingly somber expression in a startling resemblance to Ned. You let out a small laugh at that.

“Last time he visited, you were betrothed,” you said, your voice shrinking to a whisper.

The amusement died away from her eyes, turning stony. “Yes. Though I doubt it will be a fruitful union.”

There were a few more seconds of silence as you considered her words, not entirely sure why she would think so. Robert was loud and robust the few times you’ve met him, but you knew little else of Ned’s friend. 

“Do you think he’ll bring a wedding proposal for me this time?”

Lyanna’s features contorted with surprise. “Why? Do you want to be married?”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, despite the frost settling over your skin. “Well—if Father says I have to, then I will.”

“I didn’t ask about Father,” replied Lyanna. It was hard for her to believe that you were only eight sometimes. You always tried to act older than you actually were. “I asked about you.”

Winterfell grew larger and larger as the two of you drew nearer to the castle gates. Home.

“I don’t think I’d mind getting married,” you told your sister, eyes downcast and brows pulled together in thought. “As long as I get to stay in Winterfell. I never want to leave.”

Lyanna smiled, all teeth and cheek. “Wouldn’t that be a dream?” she sighed. 

The rest of the short journey was made in relative silence, and you left your sister and the tall stallion by the stables (not without her ruffling your hair one last time), and you dashed up to the castle chambers where you knew Ned would be.

He carried no proposals, only a few books he thought you would enjoy and a warm hug.

You awoke with a startled gasp, kicking at the thin blanket that laid over your form. It took you several moments to realize where you were. A boat. Rocking steadily, back and forth and back and forth. You rubbed at your sleepy eyes whilst drawing your knees up to your chest, still blinking away remnants of your dream.

Lyanna. Ned. Still young, still practically children. 

One of the tongueless little birds stood in the doorway. It was an ominous sight. Her eyes were large and unblinking, glinting like glass balls within her small head. In her hands was a wooden bowl, full of what looked to be a poultice of sorts. She drew nearer, and the heavy scent of honey and flowers reached your nose. 

“What is it?” you asked the child, a coil of pity winding in the pit of your stomach. You knew they couldn’t respond—Varys had stolen not only their youth, but their voices, too. “Is this food?”

A foreign delicacy of sorts, maybe? An Essosi dessert you weren’t familiar with, perhaps. It looked quite unappetizing, though you knew you had no room to complain.

The girl shook her head, then pointed to your hair, which was pulled back into a braid. You understood from just that, and nodded your thanks while accepting the bowl from her. This was hair dye, made from a blend of flowers and other substances you couldn’t name. You supposed it was a necessary precaution—you had an unmistakable Northern look to you, and would surely stick out like a sore thumb here down South. Dyeing your hair and cutting it short would help to somewhat conceal your identity. Short enough, and perhaps you could even be mistaken for a man, at least at a first quick glance. 

The little girl left a dagger and a small, rusty, hand-held mirror by your legs and disappeared from your cabin in complete silence, as if she was never there in the first place. They were like ghosts, this crew of children. Everything was so quiet all the time, with only your thoughts and the ocean waves to accompany you.

You unbraided your hair and shook it loose. Hair carried memories. Memories of Catelyn showing you how hair was done in the Riverlands, memories of Benjen tugging at your hair to tease you, memories of Jaime commenting on how your hair was a lovely shade of animal waste. That had been grumpily remarked earlier on, when you and Brienne were escorting him to King’s Landing. Before Locke and Roose Bolton and… Robb. 

You propped up the rust-spotted mirror against the wall and scooped up the dagger. The reflection that met you was only barely recognizable. You looked so tired. With a resigned sigh, you began to slice off your hair with the sharp blade. Handfuls fell to the ground. You sliced and sliced until your head felt light and your neck was bare. It’s never been this short before. If Benjen were here, you knew he would surely laugh at you. Brandon would comment that he never knew he had another brother. 

Yes, you thought. I can surely pass as a man if I wanted to. Though you certainly shared many features with your sister, you hadn’t the wild beauty Lyanna had. No, you were far plainer than her, colder and sharper than she was. Nothing worthy to note—though your father, quiet as a man he was, once told you that you looked the most like your mother out of all your siblings. That had made you feel more beautiful than anything. 

Plain was good, though. Plain meant no eyes would be drawn to you. 

You weren’t too sure what color your hair would turn with this dye. You lathered the thick paste over your newly-cut strands, massaging it into your scalp. Your nose twitched from the strong odor—not entirely unpleasant, but also wasn’t a delight breathing in.

As you rinsed your hands of the dye, your skin was left with a slight copperish stain. You stared at the color with sad eyes—would your hair turn out red like Cat’s? Like all your nephews and Sansa?

And, like a fool, you wondered if Jaime would like short, red hair. He wouldn’t care much, you found yourself thinking, perhaps wishfully so. Did you want him to care?

Two children brought you food—rations of dried meat and crusty bread. You wolfed half of it down and handed them the other half. Though they couldn’t speak, the children made for pleasant company. Or perhaps you were just lonely. It was hard to tell.

After eating, you rinsed out the hair dye and wrung the water out with a cloth over the edge of the ship. The cloth came away stained bright red. You retreated back into the cabin to look at the mirror. 

It was a shock to see your hair resemble Catelyn’s. It was darker than hers had been, but the auburn, orange-red sheen to your head was unmistakable. You looked like a Tully! You nearly laughed with amazement, but any sort of joy was short-lived, and you lapsed into more silence.

You laid on the rickety bed, thinking of Winterfell and your now-scattered family. Robb and Ned and Cat and the younglings Bran and Rickon might have been taken from you, but… you still had family left. Sansa and Arya could very well be scattered somewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, alive and breathing. Jon, at the Wall, as well. At least, you hoped. It’d been so long since your time sending letters to the young boy. Was he hurt that you stopped sending them so suddenly?

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you drew your knees to your chest, willing yourself into a restless slumber.

Days came and went. The little children were growing more agitated, fluttering about the boat with wide eyes and quick feet. They tossed nets overboard into the water—masquerading the boat as a fishing vessel, you assumed. There were many ships out and about Blackwater Bay. Some carried banners of houses loyal to the crown, and others were bannerless. Pirates or fishermen, you couldn’t tell. 

So far, all other ships have passed by quietly. But the risk grew with each day. You knew Tywin and Cersei would likely order more fleets to be sent after you, Sansa, and Tyrion. The chances of you being found on water would grow each day—and you couldn’t risk becoming a prisoner again. Jaime wouldn’t be able to help you escape a second time, not with Cersei around.

At least on foot… you had somewhere to run. Being on sea left you nothing but water for miles on end. 

And so you told the silent children to let you off at the nearest fishing port. Some part of you wondered if they would object, but they stared at you with round, moon eyes and nodded. You didn’t know whether to thank or damn Varys. 

The ship docked in the dead of night, half a mile from Duskendale. One of the little children handed you a map and tapped at where they’d leave you. A pouch full of food rations, more dye, and other necessities was left on your cot. You thanked the child endlessly, who seemed not to hear your gratitude and scuttled away. You grabbed the pouch, the dagger, the bow and quiver full of arrows Varys had presumably left you, and slipped into a large cloak. 

Land felt like it was lurching beneath your feet once you stepped onto the pier. Your body was used to the swaying motions of the waters, and would take some time to adjust. You gingerly shook one of your booted feet. The children watched you disembark on wobbly legs, but you dared not wave back at them. 

Despite it being nighttime, the docks were busier than ever. Fishermen and merchants littered all over the shore, some selling products and entertainment and others working hard to gather more to sell before day broke. You steeled yourself with a deep breath, and made your way through the busy crowd. 

You began trekking your way North towards the Eyrie, the hood of your cloak pulled over your short, red hair.

It took nearly three weeks for you to reach the Crossroads. Nightfall was nearing when you strode in front of the inn, the sky a mirage of bleeding reds from the setting sun and moody greys from the rainclouds. The air smelled of mud and rusted metal. It was certainly no grand castle, but a modest bed was better than sleeping on the cold dirt you’ve been curled up on the past several days. There was a young girl and a dark-haired boy by the front that looked somewhat like your memory of Robert Baratheon twenty-some years ago. At first, the boy denied your request for shelter, but reluctantly clammed up once you offered him some gold, worth more than it ever could in times of war. The two let you pass with not a word more.

Greeting you inside was a ruckus of loud children. Parentless, you realized, as there were none to be seen within the inn’s walls. An inn full of orphans, you thought with a touch of sadness. In that regard you supposed you shared a similarity with all of them. 

Just as you slipped onto one of the creaking wooden stools to momentarily rest your weary feet, you overheard a voice. A familiar voice. Low and raspy and unmistakably—

Brienne, you thought, wide-eyed. But she wasn’t alone. A young boy was by her side, yes, that was Podrick, and an older man—a knight, by the looks of his armor, and an even older septon with grey hair and a hunched back. What a queer party Brienne was leading. She was supping on porridge and salted cod. 

The impulsive part of you wanted to call out for her and rush to her side, ask if she had found any sign of Sansa, or if she had made any progress on her quest. Instead, you drew in a deep breath, and stood from your stool to take a seat across from Podrick whilst Brienne was busy speaking to the knight. The young squire made a half-gasping, half-choking noise once his eyes raised from the cup he was draining to your cold eyes, recognizing you immediately. You discreetly lifted a finger to your lips to silence him. His eyes went moon-round and he nodded once. 

Brienne ignored the knight’s constant jabbering about lips and marriage and castles full of children, and turned to look at her squire in mild concern of him choking on a fish bone. But her eyes landed on you, and her mouth dropped open.

She was very near to bowing her head and saying, “My lady.” But she didn’t, knowing it would draw far too much attention, and stared at you with utter confusion plain over her features.

“Hello,” you said to her. “It has been a while, Brienne.”

“Do you know each other?” the knight bumped in. He spooned some porridge into his mouth.

“Brienne and I were childhood friends on Tarth,” you lied. “I was the son of a cook. A nobody in truth, but Brienne was kind enough to befriend me.”

Brienne was no good at lying, you knew this, but she nodded along to your story. 

The knight looked you over. “A little runt boy and a grand beast of a girl. The two of you must have been a sight.”

You could only offer him half a shrug at that.

“What brings you here?” Brienne carefully asked you. 

“Someone helped me leave,” you responded with equal caution. Avoiding the knight’s curious eyes, you leaned closer to Brienne. “Is there a place for us to speak with fewer naked children milling about?”

Being around Varys’ little birds for long enough taught you that children were oft smarter than they looked. Somewhere to your right, you saw one of the little orphan boys stick a nut inside his nostril. 

Brienne nodded and led you just outside, away from prying ears and eyes. There, you told her everything. From Tyrion’s trial, to Oberyn’s death, to Cersei demanding you to be locked up or killed (whichever suited her taste that day), to Jaime helping you escape, to the birds on the boat, to your journey here. In turn, Brienne told you of her lengthy journey and what she had found on the way. Mostly nothing, lots of war and skirmishes. Sandor Clegane was dead, but Arya had been with him soon before that… not Sansa. The thought of Arya somewhere out there alive, sparked dangerous hope within your chest.

“Varys says Sansa is in the Eyrie, masquerading as Baelish’s bastard daughter.” The thought revolted you. “But I do wonder if the Eyrie is a trap of sorts. I cannot trust Varys. He certainly is no friend of the Lannisters, but neither is he their enemy. For all I know, he may be conspiring with dragons and grumpkins.”

“Sansa would be safe with her Aunt Lysa there, right?” Brienne asked, though even she sounded doubtful of her own question.

“I can’t quite say,” you said, brows furrowed. “Lysa is an unpredictable woman. Frightened and secluded is never a good combination of characteristics. Even so, I doubt Sansa would make her way home up North without being intercepted. It wouldn’t hurt to check the Vale first.”

Brienne nodded solemnly. “We can make our way first thing in the morning. For now, you must rest, my lady. You must be exhausted.”

The sudden reminder of the limitations of your body made your knees wobble. The past few days had you running on little else than adrenaline, fear, and meager portions of salted foods. 

“I missed you, Brienne,” you whispered, looking up at her. “I fear trusted friends are few and far in between in these times.” Not that you ever had many friends to begin with. Everyone had always been so afraid of you—something Brienne could relate to.

 The term friend dusted pink over Brienne’s large, crooked nose and broad, freckled cheekbones. She was certainly not pretty, not by a long shot, but that was of no matter to you. She was the most beautiful blessing you could have possibly encountered—your chances of survival and finding Sansa were far better with Brienne by your side.

“I missed you, as well,” Brienne managed to choke out after many moments of stunned silence. She had never been good with niceties. “Podrick has been company enough, but the boy is young and easily frightened.”

“I’m frightened, too,” you admitted. “One would be a fool not to be, with enemies at every turn. Young, however, is a trait I have long outgrown.”

Brienne looked up at the night sky. “Youth was a curse on me. I always looked older than I was.”

“Me, as well,” you mused with a thoughtful hum. Memories of the lords and ladies living at Winterfell’s court whispering behind your back… sending you strange looks of distant pity… veering far out of your way in fear of you… it weighed heavy on you, especially in your younger years. “My anger has aged me a decade, I think.”

Before Brienne could respond, there came a commotion of noise. Men on horses, their hooves schlocking through mud and puddles. Instinctively, you drew the cowl of your hood up over your head. They are armed, these men, you thought with grim unease. And there were many of them, just above half a dozen. Far too many for you and Brienne to take alone.

Brienne drew in a sharp breath at the sight of them and unsheathed Oathkeeper. She stepped in front of you before you could even begin to react. The biggest man of the party was so hefty that his beaten horse buckled and shook beneath the sheer force of his weight. His pale face was torn and wept with pus and blood. But Brienne’s eyes were drawn to his snarling helm—with its dull metal nose and sharp teeth of steel. It was the Hound’s property but the man wearing it was certainly no Hound.

The sky grew darker and the storm clouds thundered up above. The young girl that had greeted you into the inn had slammed the door open, now holding a crossbow. Whatever she was screaming was lost to the rain and thunder. 

“Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them,” raged the man, his voice nearly as loud as the booming in the sky. Your chest rose and fell in silence as you slowly reached behind you to unsling your bow. 

“Leave her be,” called out Brienne, drawing their attention. “If you want to rape someone, try me.”

The outlaws laughed and chortled at that. One japed about fucking horses before fucking her. The rest of their words were unintelligible to you as you focused on drawing an arrow without pulling too much attention to yourself. It proved to be a difficult task when there were seven pairs of eyes trained on Brienne, and, consequently, you, as well.

Brienne said something you couldn’t catch, leaving the man with the helm fuming. He charged forward through the mud. Brienne shuffled away from you—she needed the man to come to her, but not to get too close to you. You were her priority now.

A song of steel screeched through the rain-torn wind as their swords clashed. Brienne managed to cut through the rags of his tunic and slash a gaping hole in his cheap chainmail just before she just barely evaded his swinging axe. The man was screaming expletives at her—whore, bitch, freak. 

You nocked the arrow with not a second thought.

Then the drawstring was split in two and you were left with a useless bow. One of the outlaws had made his way to you whilst you were concentrating on the man with the helm—and broke your favored weapon. 

“Shhh,” he crooned as he laid the cold, wet blade of the knife he used to cut your bow against your throat. “Enjoy and watch the show, boy.” He must have thought you were one of the orphans that lived here—and not much of a threat, considering he pulled the knife away from you and made a show of pointing it towards Brienne and her attacker. “It’s not every day you see a woman like her battle a man like him.”

You nodded, playing along. You still had the dagger you used to cut your hair tucked against your hip. It was a touch too dull for your liking, but it would have to do for now. You had no other choice. With the man’s eyes drawn back to their messy duel, you drew its blade and drove it forth, straight into throat. His arms flailed for a second before clawing at your face and chest. Pain bloomed over your skin. If you were bleeding, you couldn’t feel it—not with all the rain pouring over you. You savagely tore the dagger out from his throat and drove it through his chest again and again and again. From your peripheral vision, you could see Brienne parry over and over, stab this way and that—and finally skewer her longsword straight through him until its pointy end protruded out his back.

You continued stabbing the man until he fell to the ground in a limp, bloodied heap. Even then you didn’t stop—straddling his waist and bringing the dagger down in furious strokes. It occurred to you that the other men would be upon Brienne a second too late—when you swung around, she was swarmed by the rest of them. 

“Eddard!” she called, immediately halting you in your assault on the long-dead outlaw. It took you a moment to realize that she was addressing you, not wanting to call out your actual name. “Run! Run, now!”

Two of the outlaws were coming towards you.

“Brienne!” you yelled just as one of them sliced a cut through her shoulder she couldn’t properly roll away from. The rest of your protests caught in your throat when you watched one of them—one with wild eyes that had irises too small and teeth filed sharp—dive forward onto Brienne, sending her crashing to the ground. He bit a chunk of her face right off. 

More men surrounded her. Punching, kicking, and slicing at your friend. No, you couldn’t see her anymore, where is she? Get up, Brienne, get up…

“GO!” you could hear her muffled voice scream. “NED, GO!”

No, no, no…

But if you stayed, you would be dead, as well. One of the outlaws made a grab for you, but you danced back. If not for the two slipping on the watery mud the very next second, you would have been dead.

With your heart beating in your throat, you turned on your heel and fled.

What was a kingsguard without his king? Jaime hadn’t been happy to be sent off to the Riverlands again—his place was beside Tommen. The boy-king with a golden crown sitting atop his golden curls. Cersei had insisted on him leaving, however. She’d grown more restless, more paranoid, more snappy since their father’s death. Lancel, his fool of a cousin, was now a religious fanatic who seemed to be intent on fasting until he passed from starvation, and had confessed his sins of lying with Cersei. Apparently he was not the only one. The Kettleblack brothers, the court fools, and hells, even serving girls, if word of mouth was to be trusted. 

He felt a fool for ever loving her. And now she had kicked him out of the castle and away from his duty like one would a dirty mongrel.

Let her run the kingdom to ruin. See if I care.

Jaime wearily pulled at his face. That was the problem—he did care, and he knew he did. Cersei on the throne would mean little good for anybody. Not for his little brother, not for Brienne, not for you. He hoped you were safe, wherever you were.

The knight with one hand had had a long day, even though it was not yet nightfall. He had spoken to the Blackfish, Brynden Tully, in hopes of making some sort of negotiation. Perhaps goad him into a duel of single-combat and spare everyone of the grueling boredom that came with a slow siege. Expectedly, the wind-beaten lord took none of the bait and retreated back into his castle. Then, he had a short, but explosive council meeting with a few of the riverlords. They squabbled over each other like mindless birds over a piece of half-baked bread. Jaime couldn’t help but wonder what his father would do in his shoes, but was quick to relinquish such a thought. Tywin Lannister would never be in this position in the first place. And he was dead, which was perhaps the more important bit. After the council, he paid a visit to Ryman Frey, who was preoccupied fucking some whore who called herself a Queen. He had the big oaf dismissed for wasting so much time and resources, then named his son, Edwyn, command of the siege. He ordered young Edwyn to tell his great-grandsire, Walder Frey, to release all the prisoners for the crown. There was no undoing the Red Wedding, but he could, at the very least, attempt to rectify the troubles it left in its wake.

And now—now Jaime had one more person to visit.

It was his aunt, Genna Lannister, who had urged Jaime to do something about the sullen man with the noose loosely wrapped around his throat. In his state, he posed no danger physically. As a symbol, however, Edmure Tully, was a great danger to the cause. His cause? Jaime wasn’t entirely sure what he was fighting for anymore. It certainly didn’t feel like he was protecting Tommen from all these leagues away from him. His golden hand felt so very heavy strapped onto his stump—why did he still bother carrying it around?

Ilyn Payne made quick work of cutting Edmure Tully down from the wooden gallows he was perched upon. His hair, scraggly and red, hung in limp clumps over his dirtied, bloody face. Eyes deep blue, heavy with exhaustion. Jaime couldn’t help but think of Robb Stark at the sight of him. Gods, they looked alike.

Jaime had Edmure pulled through the tents and mass of Freys and other rivermen alike. One japed about a fish on a leash. A young man holding an instrument was amongst the throng of stares, and he ordered the singer to follow, and the lad obediently did. Onto a ferry they went, where the vessel would carry them to Tumblestone.

“Why?” Edmure has croaked, gripping weakly onto Jaime’s arm. 

“Consider it a wedding gift,” Jaime replied. 

The Tully eyed him warily. “A wedding gift?”

“I’ve heard your wife is pretty. She’d have to be, for the two of you to be abed whilst your sister and king were being murdered.” Jaime gave him a wry look. 

“I never knew. There were musicians outside the bedchamber, I couldn’t…”

“I’m sure Lady Roslin made for a grand distraction, as well.”

At the crass insinuation, however truthful, Edmure frowned and pulled away from the knight. “They made her do it. She had little say in the matter. Roslin never wanted any of it to happen. She wept the entire night, but I thought…”

“You thought it was your rampant manhood that swayed her to tears? It’s a sight any woman would weep to, I’m sure.”

Edmure hung his head. “She is carrying my child.”

Your child or your death? Jaime thought, but tastefully decided not to say it out loud. Not yet. Instead, he asked, “Your king-nephew, Robb. Did he ever speak of his aunt before his end?”

Edmure lifted his gaze to the kingslayer at that. “The Bitter Wolf?” He thought for a moment, eyes distant. “No. She was hardly ever brought up. Robb didn’t like to speak of her. Not after her betrayal with your freedom. If he did speak of her, it would’ve been with Catelyn.”

“Who is now dead,” Jaime dryly said.

“Yes,” Edmured replied, letting his gaze drift down to the waters. 

“Much help you are.”

“Where is she now? The Bitter Wolf.” 

Jaime saw no point in lying to him. “I don’t know.”

The rest of the ferry trip was spent in silence.

Once at his pavilion, Jaime dismissed Ilyn, but kept the singer around. He ordered the servants there to boil bathwater for the honored guest, and had clean garments brought to him, along with warm food and sweet wine. Edmure still couldn’t quite comprehend why exactly Jaime Lannister was being so courteous, but couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of cleanliness. He clambered into the tub and started scrubbing the grime off his skin.

Jaime pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “After you’re clean and your belly is full, you will be escorted to Riverrun. What happens after that is up to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” said Jaime. “Your uncle is old. Valiant, admittedly, but his best years are behind him. He has no wife to grieve for him, nor children to succeed him. A good death is the most the Blackfish can wish for. You, however, have many years remaining to you. You are the rightful heir to House Tully, not him. Your uncle serves you, by law. Riverrun’s fate is in your hands.”

Edmure blinked at him. “I don’t…”

“Understand, I presume? All that time with a rope around your neck must have strangled you of all your wits.” Jaime was growing impatient. “You must yield the castle. Yield, and nobody dies. The smallfolk will be allowed to leave in peace, or they may serve Lord Emmon and his lady-wife, my aunt. Ser Brynden will be allowed to take the black and join the Night’s Watch, with as many of the garrison that choose to join. You, as well. The Wall is in dire need of more hands, I’ve heard. If that is not to your tastes, you may go to Casterly Rock as my captive and enjoy all the comforts and courtesy that befits a hostage of your rank. Your wife may join you. If your sire is a boy, he will serve House Lannister as a squire. Once he comes of age, he is welcome to earn his knighthood, along with some lands I will bestow upon him. If Roslin bears you a daughter, she will be well dowered until she is old enough to wed a fitting lord. You may be granted parole, even, once the war is done. All this only if you yield the castle.”

The water steamed and sloshed in the tub as Edmure gingerly shifted about. “And if I will not yield?”

The servants and squires were all listening. The singer watched the two speak with wide eyes. No matter. Let them all hear it.

“You’ve seen our numbers, Edmure. The ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my cousin will bridge your moat and break your gate. Blood will spill. Hundreds will die, most being your own people. Your former bannermen will be the first wave of attackers, so you will start your day by killing fathers, brothers, and sons of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, and there are plenty of them to spare. My westermen will be the third once your archers are exhausted of arrows and your knights so weary their blades will no longer lift from the ground. The castle will fall, and all inside will be put to the sword. Your livestock will be butchered. Your river will rot with corpses. Your godswood will fall. Your keeps and inventories will burn.” Jaime swallowed as he said the next words. It was true that he did not actually mean to do it, but a threat was a threat, and words are wind. “Your wife may have the child before any of this. You’ll want the babe, I presume. I can send him to you once he’s born. With a trebuchet.”

There came a lengthy silence. Edmure was still in the bath. All the servants and squires stared in horror. 

Genna had told him earlier that he was not his father’s son. Tyrion was more Tywin’s than he could ever dream to be. Would her mind change if she had heard his speech? Was this what Tywin would have done? 

“I could climb out of this tub and kill you right as you are, Kingslayer,” said Edmure, once he finally regained his wits about him.

“You could try,” Jaime calmly replied. The man made no move, so Jaime pushed himself back to his feet. “Enjoy your food. Singer, play for our guest while he eats. You know the song, I trust.”

“The one about rain? Yes, my lord, I know it.”

Edmure’s head swiveled between the singer and Jaime. “No. I don’t want him. Get him away from me.” The tub water sloshed some more. 

“Why, it’s just a song, Lord Tully,” said Jaime, feigning innocence. “His voice couldn’t be that bad.”

The knight left his pavilion with the beginnings of Rains of Castamere playing faintly behind him.

The inns you came across the road were growing sparse. Many had been torched, ransacked, abandoned, or torn down. War left much of the Riverlands in ruins. Though you were none too happy about the state of the lands, pillaged, empty villages meant there would be fewer people loitering about, which was all the better for you.

You had managed to outrun the outlaws through the cover of the storm and ruins. It was only when the rain cleared away did you let yourself sit down and silently cry for Brienne. None deserved a fate like that. She was so undeniably good, more honorable than any other man you’ve ever met—and yet her face was torn apart and now she was dead.

Eventually, you made it out of the Riverlands and began to travel along the high road up to the Eyrie. It was the safest option to get there—the mountains were hardly on the table to walk through on your own, considering it was likely running amok with clansmen and thieves of all sorts. Even on the high road, the terrain was far more mountainous than the relatively-level grounds of the riverlands, and the incline noticeably steeper. You were traveling at a much slower pace than before, growing ragged and tired with shorter distances. 

On the third day on the narrow pathway towards the Bloody Gate, you came across two men on a cart. Merchants, perhaps. You spied the stacked wine casks in the back of the cart, wondering if they were empty. Surely they must be, you thought. The Vale is not likely to make any wine of their own, not with mountains as sheer as theirs. 

As their cart slowly rolled by, being pulled by braying donkeys, you overheard one of the men say, “A singer, it’s said!”

“A singer?” the other merchant echoed.

“Yes, a singer! They say he shoved Lady Arryn right off a mountain.” 

Lady Arryn? Your ears perked up at that. Did they mean Lysa?

He glanced at his companion dubiously. “I heard she threw herself out the door once she confessed her love to him.”

“That’s nonsense, have you seen the way she grips that sickly whelp of hers? She would never throw herself to her death whilst little Robin lives.”

That confirmed it. Lysa is dead?

“If I had a son like that, I’d do the very same,” he grumbled.

“Wait! Good sers!” you exclaimed, turning back to hurry after the cart. The donkeys whined protest as they were pulled to a slow stop. They both glanced back at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Sers?” The one with mousy brown hair piped up with a laugh lodged in his throat. “We are no knights.”

“Apologies, it’s a habit now, I fear. I simply wanted to know—” You stopped in your tracks. “What were you saying about Lady Arryn?”

“She’s dead, she is,” the older of the two merchants told you. His nose was crooked in three different places. “Out the Moon Door—or off the mountain—she flew.”

You stared at them for a moment, trying to gauge whether they were being serious or not. Tall tales such as this were not uncommon amongst the lowborn. “And who now rules in her stead?”

“Little Lord Robin is young still—”

“And far too sickly!”

“—Until he comes of age, Lord Petyr Baelish is Lord of the Vale.”

Littlefinger. The realization dawned on you with great unease as you recalled his infatuation with your good-sister and his alliances with the crown. Lannister crowns. This was no good… no good at all…

“Thank you,” you told the merchants. “That’s good to know.”

“Where are you off to?” said the younger one.

“Runestone,” you lied. “I have family there.” 

That seemed to appease them well enough. The one with brown hair waved farewell as he set the donkeys back into motion. You silently thanked the Gods for coming across decent men. You watched the cart of wine caskets descend down the path.

Now what? You could hardly stroll straight into the Vale now—not with the threat of Littlefinger handing you right back into Cersei’s mad hands. Should you even trust these rumors, though? Perhaps the septon at the Bloody Gate could clarify the situation for you. Surely he would tell you the truth. But getting there would take weeks, and you certainly didn’t have that sort of time. If word of Littlefinger’s rule in the Eyrie was true, you would be wasting even more time doubling back to escape. And if he heard of your presence in the Vale there was no telling what he would do… have you locked up and sent to Cersei in a cage? 

But what about Sansa? Your heart shattered at the thought of leaving her alone at the Eyrie with Baelish. You had to be smart about this. Even if Sansa was in the Vale, and if you managed to get to her, and if you could whisk her out of the castle undetected, there was nowhere for the two of you to go that would be safe. Sansa wouldn’t last a fortnight out in the wilderness. Gods forbid, but perhaps it was best for her to stay in the Eyrie until you managed to find a stronghold that would keep her safe and protected. 

Then again, she could just as likely be elsewhere in Westeros. Arya, too. Gods, you wished Brienne was with you. You could still see the blood spurting from her face, her screams cracking through the thunderous air. 

Damn you, Jaime. You should have come with me, you said to yourself, knowing it was a foolish chain of thought. He wouldn’t be much help, anyway. All he did when we traveled together was complain and find new ways to irritate me. 

You lingered on the path for a few more moments. Then, you frustratedly gestured to nobody, made a noise of displeasure, and turned to follow after the wine merchants. 

Back to the Riverlands you went.

Riverrun was now taken, but at a great cost. Brynden the Blackfish had escaped. All thanks to Jaime’s carelessness and Edmure’s wit. This would never have happened if Tywin was around, Jaime couldn’t help but lament. It was no wonder his aunt Genna told him he was nothing like his father. 

He was a fool, and his father knew it.

After a series of threats to both Edmure and his wife, the Tully lord managed to sullenly tell him what he knew of the Blackfish’s whereabouts. Which, to Jaime’s dismay, was very little. 

“He swam away,” Edmure had told him. He had the very same blue eyes as Catelyn did, as well as Robb. The very same look of loathing in them, as well. There was a time when you looked at him like that. “The Water Gate’s portcullis was raised. Not enough to be noticed, only three feet or so. My uncle is a strong swimmer. He pulled himself beneath the spikes and I can only assume the current helped him from there.”

Damn it all.

Jaime had hounds and hunters on the prowl for the Blackfish, but he had little hope of catching him. And Edmure was to be heading west the following morning. Jaime was glad to be rid of him, though he worried that the man would slip through the guards he would be traveling with. The knight wasn’t too keen on hunting for the Tully a third time.

News of Ryman Frey’s death was brought to him by young Edwyn, the former’s son. Hanged, apparently, by a band of outlaws nearby Fairmarket, which was boldly close by. Thoros, or Dondarrion, or this mysterious Stoneheart woman. There was little to do about the matter now—Jaime ordered more guards posted and that was that. 

That night, he practiced his shoddy, left-handed swordsmanship with the silent Ilyn Payne. He managed to last a grand total of three hours before giving into his cramping muscles’ begs for a rest. Afterwards, he poured the both of them cups full of Hoster Tully’s wine, and told Payne of how he used to kiss his sister when they were children. It was innocent at first, until it wasn’t. It felt nice being able to freely tell someone of everything knowing he couldn’t possibly relay such information to anybody else—Payne’s lack of a tongue ironically made Jaime chattier than ever. 

“Tyrion once told me that whores oft avoid kissing their patrons. They’ll fuck you until your legs fall off, he said, but they keep their lips far from yours. It’s what separates work from real romance. I wonder if my sister ever kissed Kettleblack.” Jaime thought for a long moment. “I kissed the Bitter Wolf.”

Payne spared him no reaction.

“She was crying.” Jaime took a sip of wine, leaving out the fact that he had shed a tear or two. “Not because of the kiss, though. I hope not, at least. I’m not that bad of a kisser. Cersei never cried when we kissed.” Though, after he said that, he realized basing his assumptions around Cersei wasn’t a particularly smart thing to do. You and Cersei were many leagues apart from one another.

Payne drained his cup and gestured for Jaime to refill it.

As he did, Jaime went on. “If not for Tyrion’s reckless call for a trial by combat, I would have married her. The Bitter Wolf. We would be at Casterly Rock, and Tyrion would be at the Wall, and my father would still be alive, and my son would sit the Iron Throne, and all would be well. Or not. Cersei would make matters difficult. I doubt Y/N would be pleased about her predicament, either, come to think of it.”

He decided to change the subject back to Kettleblack when Payne’s silence stretched for a little while longer.

“It would be ill-fitting to slay mine own Sworn Brother. I should geld him and send him to the Wall—make up for Tyrion’s loss in some way. He’s been to the Wall, perhaps he had no taste for returning. It’s bloody cold there, I’ve heard. Of course, if I were to lay a hand on Osmund, there would be his brothers to consider, as well. Brothers can be dangerous. Aegon the Unworthy had Ser Terrence Toyne dismembered into pieces after finding him abed with his mistress, and forced her to watch. Toyne’s brothers tried to kill the King for it, though their plans were ultimately foiled by the Dragonknight. It’s written in the White Book. All of it, including every knightly deed and chivalrous act. It doesn’t tell me what to do with Cersei, though.”

Ilyn dragged a finger across his scarred throat.

“No,” Jaime said. “Tommen has already lost a brother, and the man he thinks is his father. If his mother were to die by my hand, he would hate me for it. I’m sure his sweet little wife would use that hatred to her benefit, as well.”

An ugly smile stretched at Ilyn’s thin lips. Jaime misliked the crude gleam in his eye. 

“You talk too much,” Jaime told the mute.

The next night, Jaime found himself in Hoster Tully’s solar, looking over a map, wondering where the Blackfish could have gone. Many of his hunters had returned that morning, torn and bleeding. Direwolves, they had told him. A monstrous pack with a large she-wolf leading them. He wondered if that could have been the wolf that had mauled Joffrey what had felt like a lifetime ago. 

In consequence, Jaime couldn’t help but wonder about you. Did the direwolves like you at all? He strained his mind to remember, but couldn’t seem to recall. It confused him when his chest constricted at the thought of forgetting you.

The war was practically won. Dragonstone was taken, and Storm’s End would be very soon. Stannis was welcome to the cold fruits of the Wall—if Roose Bolton hadn’t already destroyed him. And the Riverlands were successfully taken without Jaime ever having to raise a sword against neither Stark nor Tully. All in all, he was to be content.

But where did that place you? Once everything calmed down, what would happen to you? To Sansa, who surely deserved no harm that would come to her? She was just a young girl and you… you were far from the paragon of innocence, to be certain, but surely he could have Tommen pardon you for any of your crimes. Your crimes being allegiance to your own nephew, which Jaime could hardly fault you for.

Then again, Cersei was the problem. There was no chance she would sit idly by and let you live. Once he returned to King’s Landing, he had to find a way to whisk Tommen from her crutches before he would turn as corrupt as Joffrey. A new council full of abled men would be in order, as well. 

More and more days passed. Jaime had the entire Tully garrison safely released from their keep, which displeased his Aunt Genna greatly, but Jaime was intent on letting them go. There was little harm they could do when they were scattered, weaponless, and hungry.

 He dreamed of Cersei most nights. Of her golden hair, which then molded into golden hands. In his dreams, he always had two hands. Sometimes touching her, stroking her, holding her—dreamy memories of old. Sometimes he was strangling her, which he certainly had never done before.

Other nights he dreamed of Brienne. Her big, brutish face red with rage and exhaustion. She would swing Oathkeeper at his neck and he awoke just before his head rolled off his shoulders.

Some of the nights, however scarce they were, were far more precious. He dreamt of you, your hair freckled with snow, your eyes alight as you watched children play beneath you. He was in Winterfell, he realized, and with a shocked start looked back down at the children. His? No. They were your nieces and nephews, of course. Their faces were a blur, but their red hair was unmistakable. Save for the littlest girl and the bastard boy. Snow, Jaime remembered. 

“We should have one,” your dream-self said to him, so serious that Jaime wondered if it was actually you standing there in front of him. “A little wolf-lion.”

Did Jaime want that? Would they have golden hair like his? Like Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen? But how could he have another child when he was never a father to the ones he already had? It felt wrong to even consider it. Dishonorable. Any romantic notion of a normal life with you was quickly dashed.

“I know we can’t,” you continued on before he could respond. “They’re all dead.” You gestured down to the Starklings. “And I’ll be joining them soon. But it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?”

“No—” he said, reaching out to you, but you had already faded into a blur.

Not all of his dreams with you were as bleak. Once he was abed with you, and another time he was bound by rope as you pointed an arrow at his forehead while he cackled maniacally. 

A week after releasing the last of the garrison, Jaime woke up with a start after dreaming about a cloaked figure that looked eerily similar to Cersei, though he knew it wasn’t her. His mother spoke soft riddles, where Cersei would bark harsh insults. He couldn’t quite tell which he favored. He threw the covers off him with his stump.

The room was frigid. The hearth’s warmth had waned away and the windows had been left pushed open when he fell asleep. In the darkness, Jaime made his way to close the shutters, but his foot touched against a wetness on the ground. Blood had been his first thought, but blood would not be so cold. Rain, perhaps, but he would have heard the sound of pattering coming from outside.

Jaime drew the damp curtains apart, letting the moonlight stream through. Moonlight and snow. Down below, the yard was spotting with white, growing thicker and thicker in the minutes he watched. After a moment, he even began to see his breath misting in front of him.

Winter is here, he thought. Marching south, and our granaries are half empty.

He watched the snow fall, and stood there thinking of you. It irked him that you haunted his every thought. Nonetheless, he hoped you were warm, wherever you were. If he was as fanatically religious as his dear coz Lancel, he would have even prayed for your safety.

When morning dawned, Riverrun’s maester came to pay him a visit. He was pallid-faced and shaking.

“I know,” Jaime said, glancing at the bound letter in the old man’s quivering hands. “The Citadel has sent a white raven. Winter has come.”

“No, my lord,” said Maester Vyman. “The bird came from King’s Landing. Forgive me, I took the liberty to open it, I did not know it was meant for your eyes…”

Jaime took the letter and sat by the window to read. It was Qyburn’s hurried hand, but he knew it to be Cersei’s fevered words. 

Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.

“Does my lord wish to answer?” asked Vyman, hovering by the door.

A snowflake landed on the letter. He was reminded of the snowflakes in your hair, in his dream. It was quick to melt, blurring the inked words and streaking down the paper. 

Jaime rolled the paper back as tight as he could with his one hand, and handed it back to the maester. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

The way of the water

request: can i have some kaz x grisha!reader where she's a tidemaker and during a heist he falls into the water and she uses her powers to pull him out and helps him through a panic attack? hurt/comfort and preferably established relationship pls and thx

a/n I am so tired that I do not know what this is. And I really apologize if it is bad.

warning: drowning?, fear of water, not really played into his touch aversion.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Kaz was convinced that you were simply his best investment. A quick and smart way of dealing with his fear of water. He had torn earth and sky. Put at least five bullets between different merchants' eyes before he found you locked in a glass tomb. For a moment, you looked repulsive to him. Floating in the water like a corpse. But then again, he remembered the gossip. The way the creature was forced into a trance. It had been the only way to drag you out of the village the salesman had raided once the word about your kind spread. Just you didn’t remind him of a creature...

“Unlock her," Kaz had muttered to Jasper, who had stood gaping like a fish himself, “and I don’t know... offer her water." Kaz had glanced one more time at you. “Very funny, boss," Jasper hissed. “You do know that she could bite my head off and drown me once I...", but Jasper was only met with a slam of the door.

The weeks that followed left Kaz both satisfied and frustrated. You had tried to run only five times in a span of two weeks. In an angry haze, Kaz had locked you against the staircase railing. Much to everyone’s displeasure. But then he only managed to sit in his office for an hour before he found himself reaching for his cane.

“Extend your leg," he muttered, watching as the droplets fell to the floor. Your angry eyes darted toward him. “Sometimes I’m glad you can’t move blood," he muttered under his breath. “Careful, maybe you don’t know all of my tricks," you huffed, pulling your chained leg beneath yourself. Kaz inhaled deeply. He needed you. There was no use in you if you just sulked.

“You do know that I wasn’t the one who brought you here. I saved you from a very bleak existence. You should be thankful," he said blankly. “My apologies; you want me to bow or kneel?”, you scowled back. “I don’t want to exploit you, I..." Kaz swallowed thickly. He hadn’t told anyone why he had been so close to obsessively looking for you. He was sure they had found their conclusions on their own. “I need your help," he finished.

Kaz watched as curiosity flicked in your gaze. He knew that you weren’t going to ask. You could very well just sit there for hours. “I don’t like... I have a complicated relationship with water." For some reason, Kaz was waiting for you to start laughing. Make a joke. But the expression on your face didn’t change. If anything, the harsh frown eased up. “It… I had to be near corpses during the plague”, Kaz pulled at the suit he was wearing as his throat slowly closed up with anxiety. But then, in a heartbeat, the air in the room shifted. The dripping of the leaks in the roof faded to nothing. Kaz lifted his head to assess the droplets turning to mist the moment they entered the room. Once he glanced back down, he found you standing with the chained leg extended to him. He held your gaze for a moment before nodding. A silent understanding taking shape between you both.

“It’s an easy job. Pick up the document and go." It had been a while since any job had come into Kaz’s view. One he would like to take on, at least. Until now. He needed that handbook, the new shipment trades, and the new substance that had leaked into the market. “Worst-case scenario, there’s a harbor," Kaz tapped onto the map. His eyes caught yours across the room. He had sworn to never involve you in the Six Crows business but caved in after watching you wilt into nothing for weeks. So now he just offered you the safest job he could find. To stand watch. To leave false trails. To watch his back if a big body of water was near.

“Fourth floor. You will go through here." Kaz quickly averted his gaze. “I will scale the outside wall." He could hear the sharp breath you had taken in. He knew why. The side wall was bordered by the edge of the dock. Kaz swallowed thickly and said, “Get me that fucking book," before folding the map up and showing it into the top drawer of the desk.

The salty water kissed your skin as you slowly walked into the waves. You knew that Kaz watched you from his spot. You could feel his eyes on you. It had been weird the last few months. Going from full terror to finding a strange family of sorts. Yet still, it was Kaz who intrigued you the most. It was unusual the relationship between you two. If you could even call it that. You rarely talked, but then it never felt like you had to. He understood. And when he wanted you to be there when he tried to overcome his fear of water, you would just linger there. Like a phantom touch. Guarding him. And then he would stand there looking at you for hours. Eyes pouring more than words could ever tell.

You are the one watching him now. Like a shadow. Crawling up the wall. Each move is calculated, each move is planned out. Covered by the waves crashing against the shore. It always bugged you in the moments when you couldn’t see him. When he was inside the building, outside of your sight. You couldn’t protect him there. Even if Jasper had told you time after time that it was you and all of them that needed saving from Kaz, not the other way around.

A loud bang sent your head shooting up to the balcony. Voices following through. Shouts. Glass braking. The light flickering on throughout the whole upper floor. One that was supposed to stay undisturbed. Your own heart picked up in pace. Then the dark coat appeared, swaying in the wind. Another figure leaped upfront. The two wrestle in the tight spaces. A loud snap. And there it was. The time stopped still as a flash of Kaz’s face eliminated by the moon glimpsed by right as his body was forced over the railing. You had barely managed to swallow his name while diving into the waves. Forcing your body to move as fast as possible.

The free fall felt short, but the impact of the water felt as if Kaz had been drowning for an eternity. He didn’t even realize that he was falling into the water. He was prepared for hard ground. But the panic that filled his body when he was submerged made him let out a gasp. Filling his lungs with salty water. Memories of the past clasped clammy hands all over him, dragging him deeper and deeper. The light from the moon fading away.

And then it’s as if he’s wrapped in an invisible net. Kaz blinks once, and it’s you there. Right in front of him. By some absolute stupidity, he tries to call out your name. Letting more water into his lungs. Your eyes grow big, and then your fingers are grasping for him. Kaz catches that apologetic expression on your face before you pull him closer to you. Lips crashing into his, and at once it feels as if his lungs don’t remember how to breathe or how to welcome that gust of oxygen. But he’s holding onto you regardless. Feeling the fear fade away until it all goes black.

“Look at me," you frantically tap at Kaz’s cheek. Breathing heavily. The very tips of the waves still kissing your legs. You didn’t have enough energy to pull you both out fully. Feet slipping beneath the wet sand. Making you fall over, with Kaz’s body following right with you. "Kaz," you press your ear against his chest, trying to listen for a heartbeat, but you’re too anxious and too shaky to distinguish anyway.

“Why aren’t you waking up? Wake up!" You whine in frustration, pressing your lips against his now-blue ones. A kiss from you had to be enough. Had to breathe him back to life. You couldn’t have been too late. Couldn’t have. And then Kaz jerks, sitting up in a rush, his pained coughs slipping past his lips. You don’t dare to touch him now. You know he doesn’t like it. You had already overstepped as it was, but now.

“What the fuck?", he hissed through clenched teeth, making you drop your gaze. “Are you out of your mind?”, Kaz was coughed once again. Now you could see a sharp gash in his forehead. Still leaking blood. Your fingers traced the wet sand. “I saved it," you muttered, handing him the book he had come for—one that fell alongside him into the water. Kaz rips it out of your grasp, throwing it to the side. His fingers wrap around your wrist. “Are you insane?”, he hisses, pulling you closer. “You could have gotten hurt; they could have very well shot at you." His words hit you like a blow, leaving you speechless as you glanced up at him.

“Your arm." You want to laugh at how insane this is. Had you too hit your heads? Why is he concerned with... “What happened to your hand?” Kaz demands, making you glance down at the torn flesh. He was too heavy for you to lift up the dock. You tried. Unfortunately, that resulted in you slipping, and since you were too afraid to let go of his body, your arm met the sharp edge of the hook that was left carelessly there.

The sound of the shirt being ripped makes you blink. And here he stands. Taring his shirt up before grasping your hand as he wraps it around. “Your head," you mutter, "You," "It’s a scuff," Kaz grunts, his fingers shaking the longer he touches you. You back away slightly, not wanting him to do something he’s uncomfortable with. But Kaz’s wild eyes meet yours, making you still. “Next time," he breathes out, “Next time, you swim away without looking back.”

He drops your arm, turning away from you. Brushing his shaky fingers through his messy hair. “There will be no next time," you mutter, making Kaz turn around so quickly it makes you jolt. “There will be no next time," you continue once again, “because I will be right there, right under, and you will never get to feel what drowning feels like." Your hands wrap into fists as angry tears roll down your face. Kaz shakes his head. “You silly girl," he huffs, stopping closer to you. Not daring to touch you, but enough to feel your body close. Enough to feel whatever that is left of both of your bodies's warmth bouncing off of each other. Kaz takes a deep breath, "I would rather drown over and over again than see you get hurt again.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Can you do a Tim Drake x M!Reader?

Where Tim's brothers are meeting Reader for the frist time, and they just go into full investigation mode to see if Reader is a good fit for their brother?

Like some may hate/ never talk to Tim, but they still wanna make sure he at least has one healthy relationship in his life.

- Crow

Tim Drake x male reader

Headcanons

Ill be gone all of next week, as my family is going to Greece, yippee. Unless you guys would be interested in me answering requests from my phone, which would mean shorter replies and less formatting.

Dating Tim Drake would be just like how you imagined it, and then nothing like it at all. Hes a little manic, or very, at times, he doesn’t sleep much, he’s always got bruises one way or another, and you have to put up with having a tracker and panic button on you at all times, courtesy of ingrained bat paranoia.

But other than that, he’s a pretty great boyfriend. Sure, he’s a little awkward in the beginning, and if you don’t know he’s Red Robin it takes quite a while to figure It out. Youd probably discover it when you find him banged up after patrols, as Tim doesn’t wanna scare you off by telling you.

Tim would wanna keep you apart from his family for a while, just to keep you to himself. Let’s also not go into detail about the batfams unhealthy attachments to each other, whilst also being weirdy distant at times.

So, if Tim and the family aren’t on speaking terms, it would take even longer for you to meet them. Theres a big chance you meet young justice a lot longer before you ever meet his family, because his team is like his safe place, and you are too. Plus, he would want them to know about you, to keep you safe.

You never asked too much into his family or their situation, since you could just sense most of it from what little he told, and what he didn’t say anything about at all. You know he would tell you if it was anything important.

When the day came where you finally met his family, it was probably during some celebration of some sort, or even for Tims birthday. He would have wanted to just spend it with you, but the batfam would have set something up, or rather, Alfred would have set something up.

At first Tim wouldn’t wanna bring you along, but you end up convincing him, since you wanna meet his family one way or another. It just takes some kisses and cuddling to get him to agree, since deep down he wants them to meet you too.

So, you get dressed up in your best clothes, but nothing too fancy since it’s just a dinner with his family, but still not too sloppy, since you wanna make a great first impression. Tim makes sure to compliment you before you guys leave to drive to the manor.

You could easily tell that Tim was nervous, so before you guys leave the car you make sure to give his hand a squeeze, and your boyfriend a kiss, which seems to work wonders in calming his anxiety, for now at least.

Alfred greets you both at the door, and whilst he gives you a raised brow, he doesn’t question who you are, or why you are there. It’s a different thing when you get inside though, multiple members of the batfam would immediately look you up and down and ask who you were.

They try not to act surprised and maybe a little hurt when Tim introduces you as his boyfriend or almost a year, surprised because they couldn’t imagine Tim having a long-lasting healthy relationship, curse of being a bat, and hurt because he never told them.

They play nice the whole evening though, but Damian might be looking you up and down in closer detail trying to discern if you are a threat. He and Tim might not get along, but only Damian gets to pick on him.

After that the entire batfam would look into you in their own ways, but if you end up getting a few, or multiple, followers at night watching your every move, you would be none the wiser.

You almost shit yourself when you return to your apartment one day after work to find the red hood sitting on your couch. It ends up with him giving you a very extreme and in detail shoveltalk, telling you exactly what he would do if you ever hurt Tim or his feelings. It leaves your legs shaking after he leaves, you thought the heads in bags thing was just a myth.

Some of the others would be more subtle about their stalking investigating, like Cass who would just observe how you act around Tim, and look into your body language. When she sees there’s nothing but love in you though and how healthy Tim looks nowadays, she would accept your relationship.

Dick is still hurt that Tim never told them, but he would try to ask Tim about you during patrol, gotta get some brother bonding, right? He can always come to Dick for dating advice, he knows that. It ends up with the others joking about Dick and his long list of partners, and how Tims held his relationship longer than most of Dicks, so maybe Dick should ask Tim for advice instead.

Damian doesn’t trust you for a long time, he always expects the worst, especially since Tim seems to attract enemies like a magnet. But after a while, he would have to accept that you have a positive influence on Tim and his wellbeing, so he guesses he will accept you for now.

Barbara would already have known, I mean, its Babs, how wouldn’t she have known. She would have accepted Tim needing time to tell the others though, so she kept it a secret. But she did a very extreme background check the moment she learned of your relationship, and when you came up clean, she accepted it.

Bruce would pull a move similar to Babs, and wouldn’t stalk you himself but look into your past and your families’ pasts, and your friends and their families pasts, and-

You get my point. Let’s hope you don’t have any embarrassing search history, because your boyfriend’s dad as seen it. But like Babs, when you turn up clean, he has to accept it, since its clear Tim is so happy with you. Bruce might end up feeling protective of you after a while, especially if you aren’t a hero yourself and have no training. Congrats you are now part of the batfam.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

I was thinking, so before sebastian’s heat actually kicks in his bird side (since he’s a crow demon) will start to be more noticeable. Like when he’s doing his chores he’ll find like a shiny thing and take it to his room. So if you go into his room before his heat there are a lot of shiny things just sitting there.

Yess, ok honestly I think he’d make a lil nest in his room AND your room bc he wants two nest incase you have a large clutch this season (he completely forgets humans don’t lay eggs) and he sings to you on an almost daily basis.

Crows mate for life, making him extra protective of you when his mind is clouded in his pre-heat state.

Sebastian (preheat/inhuman behavior, slight implication of breeding)

-

You had a long day and wanted to sleep, but your bed was COVERED in blankets, pillows, feathers and…fur? You looked closer to see there were ‘fluffy’ clothes on your bed too. Your bed had none of these on it when you woke up this morning and there’s only one person who has access to your room!

“Sebastian!”

You shouted, intentionally sounding more upset than you actually were to get him to hurry to your side. Unsurprisingly he was standing beside you in a moment. “Yes Master? What’s wrong?” You gesture to the bed and Sebastian gives you a blank stare in response.

“Why is my bed covered in rubbish?” You huff out, walking over to your drawer, removing your necklace and rings, placing them ontop of the drawer, you weren’t gonna wear em to sleep. When you turned around, you saw Sebastian staring at the bed, looking a little offended by your remark.

“It’s not rubbish, it’s to soften the nest. It also helps retain heat so the eggs won’t get cold.” Sebastian says, turning back to you with a smile. You scowl back at him.

“Nest? Eggs??? What the hell are you talking about? Are you planning on getting chickens? Why would we keep them in my bed?” You shove the ‘rubbish’ off your bed and get onto it. “We are not turning my bed into an incubator!”

When you looked back to Sebastian, he’s glaring at the spot on the floor where you shoved his ‘nest’. He looks back to you with a crestfallen look. “They aren’t pets, they’d be our children…” You give him a confused look. You hear a low growl escape him when you start to pull apart the ‘nest’ on the floor. You feel an arm wrap around your waist and you’re pulled off of your own bed.

Before you can protest you’re placed in a chair and Sebastian is re organizing the nest, this time putting it on the edge of your bed. Sebastian turns to you, picking you backup and tucking you into your bed. You had enough room to sleep with the ‘nest’ in your bed, but it was less than comfortable.

Fuck it, you’ll sleep somewhere else tonight. Why not the couch? Haven’t slept there in a while, maybe it’s comfier than you remember?

You got up, walking back to your drawer, not taking your eyes off Sebastian. You go to grab your necklace from the drawer, but you felt nothing when your hand landed on the drawer. You look away from Sebastian to see that the jewelry you had half hazardly left on your drawer was gone…

“Sebastian.” You glared at him. “Where is my jewelry?” Sebastian huffed as if he was annoyed. “What are you upset about? It’s my jewelry!” You hiss at him, turning to face him only to see he’s five feet from your face.

“Oh Master…I apologize I grabbed it when I walked in here.” He holds out his hand, delicately handing it to you. “It was just so tempting to take it, my bad.”

You grabbed it from him and paused, staring up at Sebastian. “What the actual hell is wrong with you? You’ve never done this shit before but now you feel the need to act up?”

Sebastian gave you an innocent smile, lowering his head a bit. “But where will we keep our eggs if we don’t keep them here? We can protect them better here.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you towards the bed.

You hiss at him. “I don’t know what you are talking about! Eggs go in the fridge, we,” You gesture between the two of you. “Don’t, and won’t have any eggs, understand?”

He looks surprised by your response and grumbles out something before speaking to you again. “But…it’s the best time to have them, besides-“ He pauses , shaking his head. “Oh that’s right, humans don’t go into heat, it’ll just be me…”

[clockwayswrites]

You all don't see this. Nope. Didn't write it.

WC: 1284, Masterpost CW: visit to a leath kink shop, mentions of sex work

Paulina held up her hand, looking at her freshly painted nails. “You, Nickie, are a goddess and an artist.”

“I know,” Nickie said smugly.

“Like, seriously, you could make bank,” Paulina said. She pulled out her cellphone to snap a photo. The crystals in the center of the flowers that frame the sugar skull flashed beautifully.

Nickie gave a little shrug. The muscle tank she worn slipped off her tan shoulder, revealing more of the over the top, bright red bra. “Considering it for after. Right now sex pays well, I got the body for it—”

“Hell yeah you do,” Paulina agreed.

“—and it let’s me look after my girls. But I might be putting money aside for a shop front, yeah.”

“When you open I will let anyone I know in the area to come to you,” Paulina said. “And come myself if I’m still haunting Metropolis. Got to visit my boo Danny.”

“Someone has to come keep him in line.”

“Hey!” Danny protested from where he was carefully painting Han’s nails a blinding magenta. He did just fine with himself these days.

“He’s mixed up with a bad crowed,” Nickie continued, completely ignoring Danny, “just like Han here.”

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” Han protested meekly.

Paulina flipped her hair. “Who do you think helped him get his bad crowd? Danny can’t dress himself worth shit.”

“I know,” Nickie said with a sigh. “I remember what he was wearing when he moved in.”

“Again- hey!”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love your new gets.”

“That is true, I look amazing,” Danny said. He struck a pose as best as he could while sitting at a coffee table with nail polish in hand. He felt his bootleg Red Hood crop top ride up with the act, exposing a sliver of skin between it and his black joggers. “But I hate you for getting me hooked on lululemon, it’s stupidly pricey.”

“Good thing you have two sugar daddies then, ain’t it honey,” Nickie pointed out.

“Blessed life,” Danny said, finishing off the magenta polish with a flourish. He capped it before he started with the other hand to carefully remove the tape. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused.

“You should get them something nice.”

Danny snorted. “What, with their own money?”

“Sure,” Nickie said, starting to clean up. “Doesn’t matter who’s dough bought it if it’s good fun for everyone.”

Danny paused in his work of revealing the highlighter yellow polish under the tape to look over to Nickie. “What? I don’t— ooh.”

Paulina just laughed at him, of course. Even Han chuckled which was frankly a little insulting.

Danny cleared his throat. “I, um, do you think they’d… like that?”

“Honey, I’ve seen how they are with you. Doesn’t have to be nothing cray either. You can start simple, just a little accessory.”

“Huh.”

“I, uh,” Han said, nervously, drawing everyone’s attention. “I know a place?”

At least Danny was able to follow how they ended up standing in a leather centric kink shop, even if it felt like a bizarre turn for his life to take. He looked at the harness wearing mannequin he was standing in front of and tilted his head.

“Who has the patience to get into that?”

“Well,” drawled the shopkeep who had appeared next to Danny so suddenly he was half tempted to think the other was a ghost, “for some people, getting their partner into the harness is half of the fun. The obedience, the touches, the control… the denial.”

Danny swallowed heavily. Huh.

“Hello my darling, bring in some friends?” the shopkeep asked and swanned over to kiss a blushing Han.

“I’m not sure what they are,” Han said with a weary sigh. They let the other pick up their hand and examine their bright nails. “But Danny here was thinking of picking up something on the… introductory side to treat his boyfriends with.”

“Oh well we can certainly help with that. I’m Liam, Han’s boyfriend,” the shopkeep said, holding out his hand.

Danny shook the hand. “Danny, like Han said.”

“He’s dating the Boss and the Boss’ boy,” Han explained.

“They’re his sugar daddies,” Paulina pipped in.

“And damn adorable,” Nickie said.

Danny released Liam’s hand to bury his face in his hands. “I hate you all.”

“No you don’t,” Paulina said. “Now, what do you have in mind for the blushing boy, Liam?”

“Well that’s something for him and I to talk about,” Liam said. He put an arm around Danny’s shoulder (though was really barely touching him) and guided him away. Over his shoulder he called, “Show them around, Han!”

When they had space and a tall display between them and the other’s, Liam stopped. “Now, best way for me to get you something good is for you to be honest with me. I promise, nothing you say to me is going to be something I haven’t heard before. I’m not going to judge you. You and your boys ever done anything like this before?”

Danny shook his head.

“So you’ve had sex but it’s been mostly vanilla?”

“Yep,” Danny said, the word coming out as a strangled squeak. He cleared his throat. “I mean, Red Hood keeps his helmet on so that’s not really… usual. We haven’t done much, in any combo.”

“But you like this idea?” Liam asked, motioning around them, “Or did they just bully you into coming? Because if that’s the case I can find you something cheap to buy you won’t feel bad about throwing away or you can come back and return it in a few days provided you keep it in it’s packaging.”

“I, um,” Danny picked at the edge of his hoodie as he glanced around the store from under his bangs. What Liam had said about the harness came back to mind. “Sometimes, like, not in bed, Jason will tell me to ‘stay’. And, um…”

“That does things for you.”

Danny nodded, feeling mortified.

“Not that odd at all. Now, there are a few ways we could go,” Liam said and started walking again. “Handcuffs and restraints are one way. Or rope, it’s an art form so one of your boys would have to be interested in learning, but it can be something special. Or, I think maybe for you… this is where we should start.”

They had stopped in front of a display of collars and leashes. There were more types than Danny could have ever dreampt up. There was leather of all colors and patterns. There were plain black and brown collars and bright colors with poppy cutouts and rich jewel tones with detailed filigree and earth tones with geometrics. They were lined with suede and velvet and fur. Danny itched to reach out and touch them.

“Yes, I do think we’re in the right area. Go ahead, you can touch. If nothing here works for you, you could always custom order something instead.”

Danny reached out and ran his fingers over one of the collars, thinking. If this was Red Hood, Danny would have to go custom order red and black. But really this was for Jason. Danny lingered on one that was lined in turquoise suede. The leather was a bold rust and turquoise patina on a delicate, detailed circle and diamond pattern. Brass circles studded across the pattern.

“You know, I think we have a leash that will match that one beautifully. Should we ring you up?”

-

When Jason walked in a few days later to find Danny sitting on his kitchen counter, swamped in one of Jason’s large shirts, and wearing the collar he nearly swallowed his tongue.

---

AN: So this is a thing that I've now written! Loved the response to the tease I post last night~ Danny has gotten ideas and Jason is gobsmacked. Don't worry, I'm sure he bought something for 'Red Hood' too. ^_~ (Collar 100% inspired by one of Big Cat Den Crafts)

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to the mastpost.

[sparkle-fiend]

Steve loves Valentine’s Day.

It’s a holiday celebrating love and romance; the whole point is to shower someone with affection (and hopefully get laid at the end of the night). What’s not to like about that?

With girls, Valentine’s was easy. Big box of chocolates, a dozen red roses, dinner at a fancy restaurant (and maybe a little jewelry or something - depending on how much he likes her). A sweet card, for sure.

Now that he’s dating Eddie, Valentine’s Day presents more of a… challenge. 

“Ugh, what am I gonna do Rob? We walked through the greeting card aisle at Melvald’s and he pretended to puke. He doesn’t want flowers or chocolate or anything.”

He knows he’s whining. He’s slumped dramatically in the single office chair in the Family Video breakroom, spinning slowly (like a pathetic little rotisserie chicken, according to Robin). He’s probably got about five more minutes before Robin snaps.

“Why do you have to do anything? You know Valentine’s Day isn’t even a real holiday – it’s just an excuse to get people to spend money on crap they don’t need…”

“Oh my god, stop! You sound just like Eddie. Valentine's isn't about spending money, it's about... showing people that you love them. Making them feel happy and appreciated and special. It’s about celebrating love.”

Robin tilts her head and her face goes a little soft, the way it does when he says something she wasn't expecting (but in a good way, not like when he says something so dumb that her body collapses and she says he's obliterated her will to live). 

"That’s actually surprisingly sweet Steve. Okay….” she sighs and looks up at the ceiling as she thinks. “Maybe... you could try making something? He liked those cookies you baked for movie night." 

“Those cookies were terrible.” Practically inedible. Eddie was the only person that ate more than one. (Which was either a true declaration of love in and of itself, or proof that Eddie will eat literally anything when he's stoned.) 

"I don't know, Eddie is pretty easy to please. You could give him like... a cool rock, and he would probably love it." 

Steve sits upright so fast he nearly overturns the chair. "Robin, you're a genius!!" 

She blinks at him. "Clearly. But also, why exactly?" 

Eddie is like a crow. He's forever picking up little odds and ends - cool rocks, stickers, shiny bits of paper. At Christmas, he collected the bows off of everyone's presents. Sometimes, he incorporates the stuff he finds into little props and models for his D&D games, but other times he just keeps it. He's got a whole drawer devoted to his little 'hoard', as he calls it. 

Steve explains all this to Robin, who just shakes her head in bemusement. "He is so weird," she says fondly. 

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He would have recoiled from that oddity in high school - would have been worried what other people would think. Scared they would judge him for associating with someone like that. 

He doesn’t give a shit, these days. He sees the way Eddie lights up with happiness at the smallest things, so full of excitement and passion, and it just makes him smile. He feels grateful that he gets to bask in that reflected joy, like a flower soaking up the sun.

Valentines is two weeks away, which gives Steve plenty of time to collect a bounty of little treasures. He hits the pawn shop, the thrift store - he even drives out to the weird antique shop about an hour out of town, which looks like a normal house on the outside and is crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks and bric-a-brac when you walk inside. 

He also trawls the quarry, the lake, and the woods behind his house. It's tough, because usually Eddie's little treasures just look like trash to Steve. He's not a very creative person himself, but he tries hard to see the world the way his boyfriend would. 

If that means Steve finds himself debating for over half an hour on which rock is more appealing, well – it will all be worth it in the end.

———

Steve stays over at Eddie's, the night before Valentines. (At this point, he spends more time at the Munson's house than he does at his own.) 

He wakes up early, slipping out of bed with slow, careful movements. As usual, Eddie rolls over with a faint grumble, bundling himself into a burrito of blankets to compensate for the void of warmth left by Steve's absence. 

He moves down the hall, avoiding each creaky board like it's a booby trap in the Temple of Doom, until he reaches the kitchen - which is where Steve breaks routine. He sneaks out the back door and races across the driveway in his boxers, hopping and cursing as the frigid gravel stings his bare feet. 

His carefully cultivated stash of gifts is in the glove compartment of the BMW. He already has a plan for which one will be first, so he grabs it and closes the door (slowly, slowly - the sound of Steve moving around the house is familiar, but a car door slamming in the driveway at this time of morning would wake Eddie for sure). 

The first gift is a blue jay feather he found in the woods, perfect and clean with vivid blue and black stripes. He tucks it carefully under the edge of the ash tray that sits on the porch railing, before slipping back inside to start breakfast.

Thirty minutes later Eddie appears, drawn by the warm smell of coffee and the sound of bacon popping in the pan. 

He drapes himself over Steve's back and murmurs, "G'mornin," sleepily into the shell of his ear, the way he does every morning after Steve spends the night. This time, Steve balances his spatula on the edge of the pan and turns so that he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. 

He presses a cheerful kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth and says, "Happy Valentine’s Day." 

Eddie groans dramatically and throws his head back, the rest of his bodyweight following. If Steve didn't have a firm grip around his waist, he would have toppled over backward; the move turns into an awkward backbend instead. 

"Stevie please, it's too early for that crap. Wait until I've had my coffee at least." 

Steve grins. He releases his hold just long enough for Eddie to yelp and scrabble for balance before catching him and pulling him close again. 

"Jesus Christ," Eddie gasps. 

"Careful," Steve says with a smug grin, laughing when Eddie shoves him in the chest and pulls away.

They eat breakfast together, and then Steve follows Eddie outside for his morning cigarette. 

"Holy shit, look at this!" Eddie turns to Steve with the blue jay feather pinched between his fingers, grinning with delight. He hasn't brushed his hair yet and he's got a smear of bacon grease on his cheek, but he's so beautiful in that moment - so full of joy it shines out of him, like a lighthouse.

Just because he found a feather. Steve smiles back, helplessly besotted. "Pretty cool." 

Eddie twirls the feather between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. “That’s a sign that today is gonna be a good day.”

Steve presses his mouth to the edge of his coffee cup to hide his expression. “Yeah, I think so too.”

———

Eddie rolls into the Family Video parking lot around 2 in the afternoon to visit before his band practice. He strolls inside and leans against the counter, plonking a silver wrapped Hershey kiss down in front of Steve. 

“Kiss for a kiss?” he says, with a smarmy grin. Steve rolls his eyes, but he checks to make sure they’re alone in the store before swooping forward for a quick peck on the lips.

“I got you something too,” he says.

“Oh?” Eddie raises one eyebrow, managing to look both curious and skeptical. “Please tell me it’s not a cheesy greeting card.”

Steve flips him the bird before reaching into his pocket. He pulls the keychain out and lets it dangle from one finger in front of Eddie’s face.

His boyfriend’s immediate reaction is to wrinkle his nose in disgust. The keychain is a garish red plastic heart, definitely the antithesis of Eddie’s usual metalhead vibe.

But it’s also sparkly. 

Steve’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk as Eddie takes the keychain from him, reluctantly admiring the way light sparks off the flakes of holographic glitter embedded in the plastic. The cheap little thing shimmers like a ruby in the afternoon sun.

“Some kid dropped it. They never came back, so it’s yours if you want it.” (That’s technically true, although Steve has been holding on to it for nearly a month now, waiting for today.)

“Oh, well then.” Eddie stuffs the keychain into his pocket. “Finders keepers, losers weepers!” He sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and exaggerated – then leans across the counter and licks Steve’s nose.

“Gross!” Steve sputters with laughter. He scrubs at his face and looks up just in time to see Eddie wave jauntily on his way out the door, a second Hershey kiss left sitting on the counter in his wake.

———

After Steve's shift is over, he runs home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before meeting Eddie at the diner. 

He did his best to talk his boyfriend into going on a proper date, but the most he could get Eddie to agree to was milkshakes and a movie (my choice Stevie, not some lame romance).

Steve walks into the diner and spots Eddie at the back booth. He saunters over and sets the third present onto the sticky Formica table with a click. It's a small golden gear, nearly paper-thin. 

"Check it out. Found this in the parking lot." 

(That's a lie. Steve carefully picked apart a broken old watch from the thrift shop in order to extract a handful of the little gears.)

"Hey, cool! I bet I could use this in the model I'm working on." Eddie pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and drops the gear inside for safe keeping. 

"What's the model for?" Steve asks.

Eddie launches into an animated explanation of the character he's creating for a new Hellfire campaign - a sun-worshiping priest that intends to trick the party into becoming a ritual sacrifice. 

"... and that gear thing would look pretty good on the top of his staff." 

Steve doesn't understand much of what Eddie's saying, but he loves the way his boyfriend talks with his whole body, moving his hands and shoulders and head along with the words. He rests his chin in his hand and lets Eddie ramble until the milkshakes arrive, smiling like a dope the whole time.

Eddie has no concept of time, so Steve is in charge of making sure they finish their milkshakes and leave the diner in time to make it to the movie. As Eddie slides into the passenger seat of the BMW, he says, “Hey – you think we have enough time to stop by the Circle K?”

Steve turns in his seat as he reverses out of the parking lot. "What do you need at the Circle K?" 

"Snacks! You can't go to a movie without provisions Stevie! And don't say we can buy some at the concessions stand, because the prices they charge are ridiculous."

“Well if we stop now, we’ll be late – but I’ve got some Milk Duds and trail mix…” Steve doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Eddie pops open the glove compartment in his search for snacks, revealing Steve’s little stash of gifts. 

Eddie frowns in confusion. “What the hell?” He rifles through the pile as Steve groans.

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see those yet.”

“What is all this?” Eddie picks up a ring, turning it over in his hands. It's a bulky silver biker ring, like the ones Eddie wears every day - only this one is shaped like a bat with tiny ruby eyes. Steve is particularly proud of that one, discovered in a box of assorted rings at the pawn shop.

Steve gnaws at his lip and runs a hand through his hair, ruining all his careful styling. "I know you hate Valentines, but I wanted to do something. Just… to show you how much I love you. So instead of the cards and flowers and stuff, I tried to find little things you might actually like. For your, you know… your 'dragon hoard' or whatever you call it."

"So the keychain and the gear..."

"And the feather."

Eddie's eyebrow twitches. He stares at the contents of the glove compartment; at the water smoothed stone from the lake and the multicolored twist of ribbon, the vivid green marble and the tiny mother of pearl locket. He looks down at the ring still clutched in his hand, and blinks rapidly. 

Steve glances nervously between Eddie and the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. He's disappointed that the surprise has been ruined, but more concerned about Eddie's reaction. He'd expected the other boy to laugh or tease him, not this... whatever this is. 

Finally, Eddie clears his throat roughly and speaks. "Actually, can we just head back to my place? I've got something I wanna show you, and I don't think I can wait through the movie." 

“Uh… sure.”

Steve's brain is buzzing as he takes a left instead of a right at the intersection. He's worked himself into a bit of a panic by the time they pull into the Munson's driveway. "Eddie, I..." 

Eddie interrupts him, practically throwing himself across the center console as he drags Steve into a fierce kiss. By the time Eddie lets him go, Steve is panting. "Wha...?" 

"Wait here," Eddie says with a wild grin. He presses Steve back into the seat for emphasis. "Don't move." 

He takes the steps up the porch two at a time and fumbles with his key to get inside as Steve watches in a daze. He has no idea what's going on. 

After a few minutes, Eddie returns to the door. He's pulled on a t-shirt with a faux tuxedo printed on the front, and he's standing straight backed in the doorway with a towel over his arm, like some kind of maître d’. He waves grandly toward Steve, beckoning him toward the house. 

Steve snorts with laughter as he climbs out of the BMW. “What are you doing?” 

"This way sir," Eddie replies in a terrible attempt at a posh English accent. Steve shakes his head, thoroughly bewildered and increasingly amused. 

He walks past Eddie through the doorway and freezes in surprise.

The living room has been transformed. Eddie set up the gaming table in the middle of the room – set with a crisp white tablecloth, the Munson’s best dishes, and a vase full of red roses sitting in the center of the table, flanked by two candles. More candles twinkle softly from the coffee table, the end tables - even on top of the tv. 

"Eddie..." Steve whispers in awe. "What is this?" 

"Well, ah... I kind of jumped the gun a little. It’s supposed to be a candlelight dinner. If we'd gone to the movie, Wayne would have had time to get all the food set up. But it won’t take long, I already cooked everything. Just gotta heat it up."

Steve’s vision goes watery, smearing the candlelight into one big blur as tears fill his eyes. He blinks hard to clear them. “I thought you hated all this stuff.”

Eddie shrugs and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Well, yeah I do. But you love it. So I wanted to surprise you.”

Steve grips his boyfriend by the front of his ridiculous t-shirt and pulls him into a bone-cracking hug, before pulling back just far enough to kiss the breath from him. 

In a pause between kisses, Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s and laughs a little breathlessly. “What made you change your mind about the movie?”

Eddie bites his lips, already swollen from kisses. Steve can’t tear his eyes away.

“I don’t know. When I saw all that stuff you collected for me…” he clears his throat, staring at Steve with wide dark eyes. “I’m… I know I’m weird. I’ve known that my whole life. I never thought I would find anyone that would tolerate me, let alone… celebrate me like that.”

He kisses Steve again, sweet and soft. “I couldn’t sit and wait for two hours after that. I had to get you home and show you how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve smiles against Eddie’s mouth. “You know… I’m not really hungry yet.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve trails his hands down Eddie’s chest, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and tugging. “Mm-hmm. I think we need to work up an appetite first.”

Eddie laughs in delight. “Sounds like a good idea. You know how much I like dessert before dinner.”

A happy Valentine’s Day indeed.

[wreckedandpolemic]

anything that you wanna - matty healy

(mdni) in which you take matty apart. piece by piece. part of the regret me universe. 2397 words.

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, degradation, sub!matty, pegging, oral (kind of? you’ll see), feminisation? calling him princess idk, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it choking

(huge thank you to @abouttofillhisshoes without whom this fic would not exist bc i must have read facedown as reference material at least 10 times while writing this)

You didn’t really mean for him to find it. It just amuses you to make Matty take part in his own unmaking, so you sent him off to collect your ropes and the toys you need to take him apart. When he doesn’t come back, though, you pick yourself up to find him and punish him for wasting your fucking time. He’s kneeling on your floor, his back to you and a toy you can’t see in his hands, entirely transfixed. “What’s so interesting, huh?” He drops the toy like it’s burned him, guilt painted scarlet across his face as he turns to face you. “Don’t be shy, baby.” You stalk across the room, leaning down to see what he’s looking at. Your lips part in a surprised little gasp as you realise he’s staring down at your strap, fingers running over purple silicone like he’s worshipping it. “Oh,” you smirk. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinkin’ about with that, baby?”

“Do you… Is this, um, yours?” There’s a nervous tremble in his voice that you can’t help grinning at.

“No, I keep someone else’s strap in a box under my bed,” you deadpan, leaning down over him with a crowing smirk. Matty shudders, deliberately avoiding your eyes. “Is there something you want, pretty boy?” you ask, sitting in front of him on the bed and gripping his jaw to force his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are wide, glassy with desire. “Spit it out, darling. If you don’t ask, you won’t get,” you smirk, digging your nails into his jaw. “Don’t make me force you to tell me.”

Matty flushes crimson, words coming out muffled as he buries his face in his hands. “Was thinkin’ about you fucking me,” he murmurs, and you feel a heavy pulse of arousal in your cunt.

Closing your eyes as visions of Matty fucked dumb and drooling fill your head, “Shit,” you hiss. “Yeah, we can do that if you want, baby. Come here.” You cup his cheek, uncharacteristically gentle as Matty sits down next to you, and he shudders at your thumb brushing over his cheek. “Have you ever done this before?”

Shifting his hips subtly, Matty lowers his eyes and swallows thickly, seemingly realising you’re taking this seriously. “Only, uh… by myself,” he confesses quietly, and you have to bite down hard to keep yourself from moaning.

“Fuck,” you groan, thighs clenching. “You like that? Fucking yourself like a girl?” Condescension drips from your tone, and Matty moans low in his throat. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you like you’re my pretty girlfriend?” Squirming under your hard, unflinching gaze, he nods slowly. “Why don’t you take those clothes off for me, then, princess?”

Matty strips eagerly, and you drink in the sight of newly-revealed, toned skin as you fix the harness onto your hips. His eyes glaze over as they travel up your body, glued to the silicone hanging between your legs. He’s practically drooling as he speaks. “Please, I want…” He whines softly, making a greedy, grabbing motion at you. “I need you to fuck me.”

You laugh meanly, gripping his jaw. “Not yet, darling. Have some patience, yeah?” Words he’s used on you dozens of times, but seemingly doesn’t understand, grasping your hips and thighs where you kneel above him. “How bad do you want it, princess?” Matty gives a low, shuddering moan, pleas springing to his lips as the degrading epithet washes over him. “You wanna get on your knees for me? Suck my dick before I fuck you like a good girl?”

His eyes go wide with disbelief, and you just jerk your head and shrug. “Fuck, okay,” he murmurs. “Whatever you want.” Oh, he wants it bad, you realise. Whatever you want isn’t a string of syllables either of you put together often, reserved for your deepest, most desperate desires. Like the time you begged him to tie you up and use you like a fuckdoll, needing your brain shut off and thinking of nothing but where on your body he’d cum all over next. A dizzy smile crosses your face at the memory, lust spiking in your core.

Matty’s on his knees under you, cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs and drool pooling in his mouth. There’s a question in his gaze as he looks up at you, brown eyes wide and glimmering with lust and trepidation. “Aw, baby, do you need me to talk you through it? Teach my pretty girl how to suck dick like a slut?” He nods wildly, hips rocking against nothing as you thread a hand through his curls. “D’you remember how I do it? How good it feels when I get you off with my mouth? Yeah? Start slow for me, okay, princess? Kiss the tip.”

The power he’s handed you is heady, deliriating as he debases himself, slowly kissing and licking at the silicone of the toy. “That’s it, baby,” you say, groaning as if he’s really giving you head. “Nice and slow, you can take it.” The toy slides slowly between his lips, swollen and dripping with spit as he inches down. The corners of Matty’s mouth stretch pornographically, a pleading little moan escaping him as the toy meets the back of his throat. You thrust messily into his mouth and he gags, desperately searching for friction and grinding his hips in the air pathetically. Sliding a hand into his hair, you press his head down, laughing cruelly when he gags helplessly, redoubling his efforts and moaning. Drool drips obscenely down his chin, the sight of him in such a wanton state sending heat dripping between your legs. He whines up at you when you pull him off, tears brimming in his wide, pleading eyes. “Gotta work on your gag reflex, princess. Look at you, crying ‘cause you had my cock too deep down your throat. Pathetic,” you scoff.

“M’sorry,” Matty whimpers, so feebly that you almost feel sorry for him, nudging him to his feet and back onto the bed.

You fish in your bedside drawer for lube, handing it to him with a saccharine smile. “Get that pretty hole ready for me, yeah?” Matty’s chest heaves, spreading his legs wide as he slicks up his fingers. He traces slick circles around his hole, your cunt pulsing needing at the mere sight of him.

Pushing a finger into himself, he lets out an obscene moan, your blood racing faster as his lips part around ecstasy. Eagerly, you watch him gasp and moan at the intrusion, his eyes lidded and black with lust. Pure pleasure fills his expression as Matty slowly drags his finger out and back in, deeper this time. “Tell me how you feel, baby,” you instruct, pulse roaring in your ears and your body tense with desire.

“Feels fucking good,” Matty groans, back arching and a broken moan slipping from his lips as he slides a second finger into his hole. “Gonna feel even better when you’re fucking me into the mattress,” he adds, a shit-eating grin painted on his swollen lips.

“God, look at that pretty little hole, princess. Look so gorgeous, fucking yourself like that. Gonna fuck you dumb,” you promise, entranced by the sounds falling from Matty’s lips as he curls his fingers inside himself, face scrunched in bliss.

Your fingers creep between your legs, pulling your panties aside to rub at your soaked cunt. “Fuck, y’so wet,” Matty slurs out, using what little awareness he has left to lift his head and fix his gaze on your glistening core.

“So are you,” you taunt. “My pretty girl’s fuckin’ dripping for me, huh?” You tip your head back and moan quietly as you draw slow circles over your swollen clit, the weight of Matty’s gaze on you magnifying every spark of pleasure until you might catch alight.

Matty’s cock looks painfully hard between his legs, dripping precum with every thrust of his fingers. “Yeah, m’wet for you, fuck. M’ready, please,” he whines, writhing under his own touch, hips grinding desperately up against the air. “Please fuck me.” His words are high, breathy, tinged sweet with desperation.

With a Herculean effort, you ignore your base impulse to scramble on top of him and give him exactly what he wants. Instead, you kneel up slowly, tracing your hands over his heated skin. “How do you want it, princess?”

Helpless moans spill from Matty’s lips. “Like this,” he gasps out, grinding his hips up against nothing. “Wanna kiss you while you fuck me.”

The very idea invites intimacy foreign to the two of you. You don’t kiss, you grapple lips and teeth and tongue, you breathe moans and drip spit into each other’s mouths. But you look down at Matty, sweat-soaked and pleading and desperate, hands grasping needily at your hips, and, god, he looks so destructible that you want to give him anything he wants. “Yeah?” you say, kneeling between his legs with a vicious grin. “Alright, baby. I’ll be gentle,” you smirk, his gaze transfixed by the lube dripping between your fingers and you coat the toy in it.

“Don’t want gentle,” Matty pouts, and you slowly run a hand up his chest, his breath hitching when you rest your palm lightly over his throat. He’s achingly hard, cock pressing against your belly as you lean down, mouth hovering inches from his and your hand applying the barest pressure on his neck.

“You think you can tell me what to do while you’re whining for my cock like a little bitch?” you murmur, almost loving in tone. Unable to resist, you spit in his open mouth, a whimpering moan escaping him when you slowly press the toy against his hole.

Matty’s lips part in ecstasy, eyes glassy as his hole stretches around you. “Fuck, yesyesyes—” he gasps, arching up and chasing the sensation. Heat throbs in your cunt, arousal battering your bloodstream. His cock drools precum against your stomach, everything around you feeling slick and wet and messy, the air saturated with the smell of sex and a haze of desire. “More, please, fuck!” he begs.

You lean down, crashing your lips against his as you slowly push into him, greedily swallowing his every sweet little moan. Matty’s lips are slack, feeble against yours as you lick into his mouth, drinking in the taste of him. “S’that feel good?” you ask, inching the toy deeper. “God, can feel how greedy this hole is, princess. Practically sucking me in, so fuckin’ tight around my dick. Whore,” you moan, head spinning with some unholy cocktail of desire and power.

His entire body is flushed, seemingly suspended and free-falling through a haze of bliss, unable to decide between grinding his cock up against your belly or his hips down against yours. “C’mon, fuckin’ fill me up, please! M’a good girl, m’your slut, I’ll be whatever you want, just fuck me,” Matty whines, eyes rolling back in his head as you fill him torturously slow. “Shit, yes, right there,” he gasps, whining and grinding down against you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, ohmygod, feels so fuckin’ good, please don’t stop,” he babbles, his cock drooling against your belly as you press into him until your hips are flush against his.

“Such a good girl, moaning all pretty on my cock,” you murmur, dipping your head to kiss at his neck, the tang of sweat coming up on your lips. “Gonna wreck you.” Your cunt throbs with need, neglected as you devote your entire attention to Matty, a drooling, whining vision straight out of a wet dream.

“God, yes, please!” You pull almost all the way out of him and slam back in, a scream tearing from his throat at your sudden, brutal pace. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, the syllable drawn out, stretched thin with pleasure. “God, feels so good, fucking- fuck, I can’t–” He cuts himself off with a broken moan as you meet that perfect spot inside him over and over.

So sick with lust you can barely see straight, you bite into the flesh of his neck, muffling your pleasured groans against his skin. “God, so dumb for me, princess. You look beautiful,” you praise, fucking him so deep his tongue lolls out of his mouth and his words die in his throat. The only sounds are your pants and moans, the slick sounds of sex, filling the room in a lurid melody. Your head spins, the sight of Matty falling into oblivion under you so erotic that you could almost cum, arousal practically soaking through your panties as you fuck him harder.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum, I can’t stop it, I– fuuckk,” he gasps, tears brimming at his lashline as his hips buck uncontrollably upwards, cum splattering hot against your belly.

You fuck him through, swallowing his whines greedily, slotting your mouth over his and letting him ride it out. “Fuck, greedy little whore, cumming without permission.” The slight look of fear that flickers across his face pulls a smirk to your lips as apologies spring to his. “Shh,” you say, pressing a thumb against his lips and dragging down. “It’s okay, baby. Felt too good, you couldn’t stop. S’fucking hot when you cum untouched, make such a mess of yourself,” you soothe, hushing him softly as you pull out, unbuckling the harness and discarding the strap along with your panties. “Made a mess of me, too, didn’t you? Dirty boy. Better clean up your mess, yeah?”

Matty flips you eagerly, kissing at your neck and collarbone as his cum smears between your bodies. He laves his tongue over your nipple, sucking and biting at the barbell hungrily. Pleasure wells at the base of your spine and you lay back as it wash over you, letting Matty lavish you with whatever he wants, desperate to return the favour. He licks slowly over your belly, cleaning his cum and looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes. “Good boy,” you say, sliding a hand into his hair and puppeteering him down until he’s eye-level with your cunt. Hunger gleams in his gaze as he buries his tongue inside you, a sudden wave of heat rolling over your body. “That’s it, princess. Been such a good boy. You wanna make me feel good? If you do it fast enough, I’ll get you off again, any way you want.”

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cyd Charisse (The Bandwagon, Brigadoon, Singin’ in the Rain)—LEGS LEGS LEGS I would sell my soul for the legs of Cyd Charisse - she oozed style and glamour and sex appeal!! And she could DANCE! She was dancing next to the greats - Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire but they are never who you're looking at because why would you when you can look at her. I will only sit through too long ballet breaks for her. If there was any woman who you could call sex on legs it was her. These dances are everything to meeee (she comes in at the minute mark) and this dance too of course is iconic. In the words of Fred Astaire 'When you've danced with Cyd Charisse you stay danced with'

Suchitra Sen (Harano Sur, Chaowa Pawa)—Suchitra Sen! She had a 25-year career in Bengali films, and was at the height of popularity for a solid two decades as half of the wildly beloved pair of Uttam-Suchitra, who were practically the entire romantic genre of Bengali films by themselves. She acted in literary adaptations, romantic comedies, (melo)dramas and inspired-by-current-events films. She was the first Indian actress to receive an international award at the Moscow International Film Festival. In 1978, after the release of her last film (a box-office flop) she pulled a Garbo and put herself out of the public eye completely. She made no appearances, gave no interviews, refused awards, all of it. She didn't even show up for her daughter's or grand-daughters' debuts! She was taken for funerary rites in a covered hearse! The glamour! The mystery! That blinding smile!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Suchitra Sen:

Not to take away from her costars in Devdas (1955), but the great Indian cinematic tradition of Tragic Romantic Yearning would not, I argue, be what it is without Suchitra Sen's performance in that film. I root for things to turn out better for her every time, even though I know how things are going to go.

A Bengali cinema icon. Liked crows (per Gulzar, "It was an astonishing sight. The crows used to pick at the grapes from her hand").

Linked gifset

She once rejected Raj Kapoor's movie offer (one of the most successful actor and director at the time). She was quoted saying, “In men, I don’t look for beauty. I look for intelligence and sharp conversations. I had refused Raj Kapoor’s offer almost immediately. He came to my residence offering a lead role and, as I took my seat, he suddenly sat near my foot and offered me a bouquet of roses while offering the role. I rejected the offer. I did not like his personality. The way he behaved – sitting near my foot – did not befit a man.”

Legendary poet, lyricist, director and writer Gulzaar had this to say about her "Glad that my ‘Sir’—that’s what I call her— got the Dada Saheb Phalke award during her lifetime. Contrary to people’s perceptions, Suchitra Sen is an extremely warm and very very friendly person. I adore and respect her. But she has the right to choose her friends. Surely she’s justified in keeping away from every Tom, Dick and Harry. She’s the only example of such quiet dignity in show-biz. That’s why the media compares her with Great Garbo. Suchitra Sen is my Sir. I’ll explain. During the shooting of Aandhi she started calling me Sir. Everyone in Kolkata calls her Madame. Since I’m her junior I requested her not to call me Sir. But she insisted. (We always converse in Bengali). So I call her Sir and she calls me Sir.”

Linked musical number [won't let me display embedded for some reason]

Cyd:

Photos do not do Cyd Charisse justice, unfortunately, because she is at her hottest while dancing, which she was exquisitely good at. Just go watch her first number in Singin' in the Rain, in that green dress; nothing I could say here will be more convincing that that.

She had amazing legs, and she knew how to use them! You probably know her best from the dream sequence in Singin' In The Rain. She was such a stunning dancer, and all her dance scenes are hard to look away from.

Dancing in the Dark clip:

She's an amazing dancer and my favorite from the period. Here's her and Fred Astaire in the Band Wagon:

I just like a woman who's there to be really incredibly good at dancing.

One of the most talented female dancers in Hollywood history, but what sets her apart from other competitors for that title is that she...umm...well let's be blunt, she was the dancer who put sex into it. The one who said "Hey, you know that A+ leg tone that naturally develops from doing this for a living? Why don't I let people see that? Like at every opportunity?" She reportedly insured her legs for five million dollars after hitting it big, which just goes to show that fame makes you crazy. It should have been ten million.

Arguably the Best female dancer of her time, she supposedly insured her legs for $5 million dollars. Stole the show whenever she had a dance number, even if she went uncredited. Musicals started to go out of fashion so unfortunately she didn't have as many big roles as she should have, but those she did are unforgettable. The Broadway Melody number in Singin' in the Rain - the green dress!

She could pirouette in pointes or tear it up in taps. Fred Astaire called her "beautiful dynamite" and wrote, "That Cyd! When you've danced with her you stay danced with." Gene Kelly partnered with her three times. Her legs were (reportedly) insured for $5 million in 1952 ($57.8 million in 2024 dollars)! Everyone in this poll will be iconic, but for raw physical grace, Cyd is up there with the best.

Legs for days, beautiful dancer in the most iconic scenes of Singin in the Rain. She's glorious. As some guys sung to her in It's Always fair weather, 'baby you knock me out!'

Incredibly, Cyd Charisse only started learning to dance as a rehab exercise to strengthen her body after a childhood bout of polio. She was in high demand as a dance partner, Fred Astaire called her beautiful dynamite and said "When you've danced with her, you stayed danced with". She was one of a few leading ladies to dance with both Astaire and Kelly, declaring them both delicious. Kelly apparently was stronger, while Astaire was more coordinated. She also said her husband would always know who she had been dancing with because Kelly left her bruised, while Astaire didn't leave a mark. She's better known for her dance numbers today, but she was a leading lady in her time! Her Scottish accent in Brigadoon leaves a lot to be desired, but compared to the other actors in the movie, it's almost good. She appeared in The Harvey Girls alongside Judy Garland and Angela Lansbury in her first speaking role, but she really burst onto the scene with Singin' in the Rain and her infamous Broadway Melody Ballet number with Gene Kelly (no one could handle a length of fabric like Cyd Charisse). She was brought in because Debbie Reynolds wasn't really a dancer and Kelly was notoriously a stickler about his Vision. After that she starred opposite Astaire in The Band Wagon, which was a bit of a flop but created some enduringly incredible dance numbers. She went on to star in a number of MGM movies, and was one of the last of the Studio era stars to remain on contract. Since we've got up to 1970, I'm including her opening routine in The Silencers (1966) to show just how long she was making a splash - she's into her 40s here and still a siren:

and of course, the iconic Broadway Melody Ballet -

[lfzyxf]

Can you write fluff where Isaac takes care of his sick girlfriend? I got sick myself quite recently and would like to read something like this with my comfort character ~ 🙈anon

Hope you like this, honestly i don't think he'd have much experience but he would definitely do his best to care for you. Just Isaac being the best boyfriend ever.

Isaac Lahey x gn!reader Word count: 840 Masterlist

You really don’t have time for this. Everything has been going wrong once again, first, this weird deer runs into Allison’s car, then the windows at school break because a bunch of crows thought it was a great idea to smash themselves against it. And now you’re stuck in bed, 3 blankets covering you, including a heated one. Next to you is a mountain of tissues because you can’t be bothered to walk all the way over to the bin. And your bedside table stands full of half-empty medicine packaging.

You sneeze for what feels like the hundredth time that morning before groaning miserably. You can see your phone flashing once again from the corner of your eye but just like with most things today, you can’t be bothered getting it. You close your eyes for a few seconds before the sound of your door slowly opening makes you open them again, albeit barely.

“Did you die?” You hear him before you really figure out that he’s standing in your room. “Yes Isaac, I’m dead, I’ve died a miserably, lonely death.” He nods before really taking in the view in front of him. He sighs before quickly walking over to your bin and dragging it towards your bed. Making an odd-looking face he starts throwing away the pile of tissues and lying next to you. “I was wondering why you weren’t answering my texts, figured it had to be something close to dead for you to ignore me” he explains while laughing.

You snort before taking the bin away from him and shooing him away. He does as you request, only to plug your phone into your charger. “Are you hungry?” You shrug before nodding half-heartedly, “I could eat.” Isaac nods back before leaving your room, making you close your eyes and rest while you wait for him to come back.

Fifteen minutes later your door opens again, Isaac is holding a bowl with what you assume is soup and in his other hand is a large bottle of water. He opens the door further by pushing it with his hip, before walking back towards you. “A meal made just for you by the incredible chef Lahey, you’re welcome.” He speaks with some sort of accent you can’t quite place and a ridiculous look on his face, making you laugh.

“Oh, thank you kind sir-” you interrupt yourself by laughing again when he makes an extravagant bow. He puts the stuff he got you on the bedside table that stands empty before jumping into your bed and laying his head down on your lap. “Caught a cold?” He asks while playing with one of the blankets covering you. “Some type of virus, again” you explain rolling your eyes.

“What’s that- the third time? This month?” He says while laughing softly, but his hands move to hold yours softly. You nod in response, squeezing his hands before grabbing your bottle of water and taking a few big gulps. “Shitty timing, like always,” you say once you’re finished hydrating. Isaac shrugs, a soft smirk resting on his lips like it often does. “At least you’re safe here, no birds crashing against your window. No annoying twins running around.”

He moves to sit next to you now, handing you your bowl of soup before softly kissing the side of your head. “Don’t think too much about the others, they’re fine. You need to rest and get better” he says softly, playing with your hair as you relax into him.

It’s quiet while you finish eating, he’s grabbed your laptop from the corner of your bed to try and find something to watch. When you’re debating whether or not to do another rerun of your favourite show, Isaac’s phone starts ringing. He sighs before picking it up, “It’s Scott-” “It’s okay, it might be important” you interrupt him.

He lets out another sigh before picking up, you can’t hear what Scott’s saying but by the look on Isaac’s face, it’s important. You’re about to tell him to just go when he responds to Scott. “Look Scott, don’t you think you can do this without me? Call Derek if you need to but I can’t leave right now.” You hear some distant words before they say goodbye and Isaac hangs up, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed.

You look up at him with a raised brow. “What? Scott’s a big boy, he can handle himself for one night. I need to make sure that you are okay.” He puffs his chest out, almost acting proud of staying here with you. “Yeah, okay big guy- I really need some protection here in case a deer breaks in” you respond laughing.

He laughs, shaking his head softly so his curly hair falls back in place. “That’s what I’m here for,” he says before grabbing the forgotten laptop again. “And to rewatch this show for the fifth time.” You smile at him before snuggling into his chest, ready to watch your favourite show again.

[stars1997]

Pls write for mat Barzal I love you work!!!

Dinner date

Paring(s): Mat Barzal x reader

Warnings: I didn't know if you wanted smut. i did write some but i added a warning so don't read past the warning if your not looking to read smut. smut, fingering, oral,

Summary: Mat and you go out on a date. you end up at a sports pub that has a pool table and Mat teaches you how to play pool.

“Honey! Are you almost ready?” Mat calls out to you. you warp the last uncurled strand of hair around the curling iron.

“I’m finishing up my hair. I’ll be right out, give me like five more minutes.” you remove the hair form the curling iron, spraying it with hair spray so hit holds it curl.

You adjust your dress and look in the mirror making sure that your makeup is exactly how you want it.

You walk out of the bathroom and make your way to the living room. You found Mat sitting on the couch. He looks up from his phone a smile spreads across his face when his eyes meet yours.

You give him a little spin, showing off your dress to him. he stands up taking your hands in his.

“You look beautiful. So, fucking beautiful.”  He pulls you into him. his hands move to your waist before reaching around to grab your butt making you giggle. “You should wear this dress more often.” He gives you butt a slap before kissing you on the lips.

“So, what is the plan for tonight?” he didn’t respond, he just grabbed your hand and pulled you out the door.

-

You and Mat have been out all day. He took you to all your favorite places to go shopping. You’re holding about six bags wail Mat is holding about six more. you and mat don’t do big dates like this often that’s why when you do get the chance, he loves to spoil you with whatever you want.

Normally date nights consist of staying at home and watching a movie, then falling asleep on the couch. you love those nights just as much as you love the more extravagant date nights.

-

Mat and you are now out at dinner. It was some cute little hole in the wall sports pub. The pub wasn’t that crowed yet. You ordered your food. You both got a burger.

You hand the waiter the menus giving him a small thank you before he walked off. You look back over at Mat his eyes already on you.

“I’m so glad you finally have a day off.” You reach your hands across the table to grab his. He rubs his thumbs across the back of your hands.

“I’m just glad I get to spend my day with you.” he lifts your hands giving them a kiss. You and Mat talked about everything from the game that he played yesterday to soothing that happed to you at work a few days ago. The time seem to go by fast.

The waiter dropped off your food. Mat was quick to start eating his burger. You reach over and take one of his onion rings before picking up your burger and taking a bite.

He gave you a small smile before pushing his plate a little closer to you knowing that that won’t be the last onion ring you will be taking from him.

You look around the restaurant, your eyes scanning over all the TVs and the sports art that’s hanging on the wall. You look at the people sitting at the tables enjoying their food before your eyes landed on a pool table in the back of the restaurant.

“Oh cool! They have a pool table.” You pointed it out to Mat.

“When were done eating we should play.” You nod your head yes as you take a sip of your lemonade.

-

The later it got the more packed the restaurant became. You and Mat finished eating a little bit ago. Now Mat has been trying to teach you how to play pool.

“I can’t believe that you don’t know how to play pool.” Mat lined up his pool que with the white ball. Mat needed to get the 8 ball in to win the game.

“Hey! don’t make fun of me. I was just never taught how to play.” Mat hits the white ball, the white ball then hitting the 8-ball making it roll right into the top left corner pocket.

“It’s no point. You just going to win every game.” You let out a huff. Mat set the balls back up before walking over to you.

“How about I teach you.” He put his pool cue back in its holder before he took your hand and pulled you in front of him. His chest now pressed into your back. He moves you so your now leaned over the table, helping you adjust the cue to line up with the white ball.

You push your hips back into him, trying to get more comfortable and he lets out a grunt. He pulls your arm back then pushes it forward hitting the white ball into the others, breaking the triangle.

“See it’s not that hard. You just need to aim and know how much force you should use to be able to make the balls move.” You turn around and throw your arms around his neck giving him a kiss on the lips.

-

Mat took some more time teaching you how to play. It took a few tries but now your able to play without his help.

“We should get one for the house.” You look at him with a huge smile on your face as the last of your balls just went into one of the pockets.

“Just a minute ago you were hating it. But yes, we should get one for the house.” He laughs moving back over to you leaning forward to whisper in your ear.

“If we get one for the house in going to bend you over it. You have been driving me crazy all night in this dress. Not to mention when you would grind your ass against me earlier. Fuck I need you so bad.” you plant a kiss on his cheek, leaving a lipstick mark. you take his pool cue and lay it down on the table before doing the same with yours.

“Well, I think we better get out of here. I’m starting to get bored, and I might have an idea on what we can do to fix that.” You wink at him before you grab his hand and pull him out of the restaurant.

-

(Smut below this line)

_______________________________

The drive home felt long. You played with Mats fingers the whole ride, picking at them, bringing his hand up to your lips to kiss them. You needed them in you.

You took his hand and placed it on your chest right above your boobs, your hand over his as you drag it down your chest to your stomach, right above your underwear. You look over at him in the driver’s seat. The knuckles on his other hand are white due to the grip he has on the steering wheel.

You use your other hand to bunch up your dress before slipping his hand into your panties. you run his fingers over your clit.

“Fuck Mat. Please I need you.” you slide his fingers lower and slide two of them into you. a moan slips past your lips.

“Yes, Mat. Oh fuck. Your fingers feel so good.” at this point your riding his fingers. You could feel yourself reaching your high quicker than you wanted to, but you just let it happen.

Mat moved his fingers away from you when he knew you have come down form your high. You breathe heavy for a second before getting on your knees in the passenger seat, facing Mat. You bring your hands down to unbutton his pants pulling his hard cock out of his pants.

You lean forward spiting on the tip of his cock before stoking him a few times. Your lips wrap around his tip sucking on him for a second before taking the rest of his cock in your mouth.

He brings down one of his hands to your head griping your hair. His hips lift off the seat for a second making the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, holy shit. I love your mouth so much.” you move your head faster on his cock, hollowing out your cheeks.

“Shit you just put your mouth on me and I’m already going to cum.” He lets out a grunt before releasing in your mouth.

“Oh, I am so buying a pool table when we get home.” You giggle in response kissing him on the cheek before sitting back down in your seat. You turn on the radio and sing along to the songs for the rest of the ride.

[celesteleoves]

“I LIKE YOU.”

ೃ࿐ bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: insecurities briefly mentioned, fluff all around otherwise!

summary: katsuki has liked you for a very long time but doesn’t know what to do about these bundled up feelings, luckily kirishima is here to save the day!

-

katsuki could never say it out loud, in fear he would be taunted by his fellow classmates. although he wanted to shout and crow about how beautiful you were.

in all honesty, he wouldn’t actually do it. his reputation as a mean and gruff boy could not be ruined. he hated and loved how nobody looked his way in fear for a while. until, you punched your way into his life in his second year of middle school, literally. you had punched him in second grade for taunting izuku midoriya. he shut up around you after that.

now in U.A, he still cannot shake your kind face and light personality away from him. you had grown on him and you practically cling to him like he’s a toy that you cherish more than yourself. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it though.

“come on bakugou, be a man!” kirishima shook his best friends shoulder as he grumbled in response.

“I AM A MAN!” he growled at the red head who winced at his loud voice. currently, kirishima was trying to convince katsuki to ask you out.

“then do it!”

“NO!”

katsuki could feel his entire body heating up when he heard your voice, cheerfully laughing away with the 1A girls about your phone case that had bakugou and your family in a polaroid picture beneath the clear case. you had the impact on him to make his entire body burn, in a good way.

“bakugou looks so angry! he’s almost rolling his eyes.” ochako gasped as she pointed at him in the picture while the other girls silently agreed and said he, ‘made the picture glum with his scowl’

“oh stop, he looks great.” you protested as you fixed your posture in your seat, “in my opinion, he actually looks happy even if he isn’t smiling! you can tell by how his eyes slightly squint and do you see the shine in them too?” you rambled as the girls gave each other glances with small smirks on their faces.

you stopped talking as you noticed how quiet they had gotten. your face felt flushed as you covered it with your hands while the girls snickered.

“yeah, tell me you don’t like him again?” jirou let out a chuckle at your desperate, stuttering attempts to prove her wrong.

“i think he likes her too, don’t you? although, y/n i think you deserve someone who won’t call you names and try to kill you.” momo placed her hand on your shoulder very delicately.

your eyebrows furrowed at her remark. katsuki would never do anything to harm you unless it was during training and you two had to fight. while others weren’t looking, katsuki was actually the most attentive, gentle, and the sweetest boy you had ever met. he always listened to your rambles and never once interrupted. he was so perfect to you which is why you can’t help the heat that is brought to your face at the mention of him.

while you thought katsuki bakugou was perfect, he thought the opposite. he thought he was very rough around you, too stoic, too… him.

kirishima looked at bakugou as they sat not too far away from the group of girls. kirishima and bakugou were sitting at a table with a few of the other boys, who were in their own conversation or were in the kitchen.

kirishima noticed bakugous eyes drift to his scarred hands, picking at his skin with a small frown on his face. this frown was different from the one he normally held upon his lips, this one was formed due to doubt. eijirou could tell and he was NOT going to let his friend feel that way about himself ever.

“hey, katsuki. let’s go to the store and get y/n something! so you can finally confess to her.” he grabbed his arm and tugged him out of his seat as they made their way out of the dorms while telling the others and began rushing to the store. bakugou was so caught off guard he couldn’t say anything as he followed kirishima mindlessly before realizing.

“hah? WHAT ARE YOU DOING SHITTY HAIR I SAID I WASNT GOING TO CONFESS TO HER!” he growled but even though he said the opposite, he still followed kirishima who had a shit eating grin on his face.

“then why are you still following me?”

bakugou went quiet and kicked at the ground as they reached a nearby store.

he pushed past kirishima, grabbing your favourite snacks and drinks while kirishima confidently went over to the flower section.

katsuki came back to find eijirou holding a bouquet of flowers but they weren’t your favourites. katsuki growled and picked up your favourite flowers while kirishima stood there in awe with how bakugou could remember your favourite flower off the top of his head. man, he really was in love!

they payed for everything as kirishima filled with excitement. there was no doubt you would say yes now! he just knew it!

_

by the time they arrived to the dorms, it was almost completely dark outside. if mr. aizawa saw them sneaking inside the dorms this late he would surely lose his mind.

thankfully, nobody caught the two boys as they quickly went into kirishimas dorm room and prepared the gift. then, they made it to your dorm.

kirishima walked him to your dorm, spouting words of encouragement and hyping him up. kirishima knocked on the door but then ran off, leaving bakugou standing there with your gift in hand.

“GOOD LUCK BRO! YOU’RE THE MAN!”

“YOU BASTAR-” katsuki went to scream but was cut off when you opened your door with a confused look on your face that shifted to a happy one when you saw katsuki.

“kats! i haven’t seen you all day.” you scanned his features as you spoke, noticing his wide eyes and pink covered cheeks as you tilted your head in confusion.

you looked down at his hands that held a bouquet of flowers, candy and drinks and a stuffed animal that you had been wanting for weeks. what caught your eyes were that these were all your favourite things.

a feeling of nervousness and giddiness spread across your face as he spoke.

“i noticed you liked that stupid toy, so um, i got it for you.” you picked up the gifts and quickly walked into your dorm room. placing the bundle of items on your desk and opening the card that held thoughtful words in it and a “i like you, y/n”. you walked over to katsuki who stood in your doorway rocking back and forth on his feet nervously.

he went to back up as you said nothing but he had no time to react as you stood on your toes and kissed his cheek before quickly pulling away, hugging him and hiding your flushed face in his chest.

he wrapped his arms around your frame as a huge grin made its way onto his face. his mouth felt dry and his ears were practically steaming as you pulled back to see his face.

“i like you too, katsuki.” a smile that he wished to see everyday was spread on your lips as you happily looked at him with adoration.

he’s totally going to buy kirishima a thousand crimson riot shirts for this.

——————————————————————————

a/n: here’s little fluffy oneshot for our pookie katsuki. please message me if you have any issues with this or see any spelling errors!! ily. i was really doubtful about posting this so i hope you enjoy 🥹🥹.

[seriesxwriting]

Could you write a fic where everyone wants klaus like cami, Hayley, caroline but klaus only wants y/n like and when they get inside his house, cami finds a room filled with paintings of y/n (some even nude) and they realise they'll never have him.

Thank you so much for this request I LOVED the idea and really enjoyed writing it<33.

I want you.

Pairing- klaus x y/n

Series- the vampire diaries/ the originals

Warnings- kissing, swearing, drinking?

Summary- request <3

“Amazing party klaus” Marcel smiled with his hand around Rebekah’s waist. He looked at her and squeezed throwing a smile her way. Her hand reached up to his chest and she returned the smile back at him. Finally happy klaus and him were getting along.

“Must you two flirt around me” he raised an eyebrow drinking from his delicate champagne glass. Rebekah turned around looking around at the crowed. “I don’t see y/n yet, is that why your salty?” She smirked at her brother.

“Salty? Me? Never, she’s simply outside with some of the other girls” he shrugged knowing exactly where she was. “We must have missed her” Marcel told her simply. “Indeed you did and so did I, we haven’t had the chance to speak yet” “why don’t you go and get her, the music will start soon I presume, you’ll want her near so you can ask her to dance” Rebekah tapped her brother on the chest.

He smiled at how well she knew him and she returned the knowing look. Klaus reached his head down to his sister’s cheek and kissed it softly. “Thank you sister”.

——

I was sitting on the benches outside with Hailey, Cami and Caroline sipping our drinks and talking about nothing in particular. The outside seating was quite clever actually as the hall was so crowded with random people and it heated up quite quickly. “I just think red is too bright for a car” Caroline shrugged sipping her drink sitting back on the bench. “My first car was red” I shrugged.

“What type of car was it” “Toyota, it did me a good service” I laughed remembering back to it. “I’m sure it did” hailey giggled catching onto what I was saying. It took a moment but the other two eventually realised and started bursting out laughing. “Was it your first time?” Cami questioned intrigued to know more. “If my first time was in a car I wouldn’t remove it from my memory” I shook my head.

“The cars way too small, my head was hitting the door the whole time” I whispered mid laugh. “Bet it steamed up loads too, must get stuffy” cami raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never done it in a car?” Caroline looked at cami shocked. Even hailey found it to be surprising. “No- and I wouldn’t want to” she laughed. “Who doesn’t want to do what?” Klaus voiced making us all jump out of our skin. He was walking over to us and stood next to where I was sitting. “You startled me klaus!” Cami winned.

“Girl talk klaus, we couldn’t reveal our secrets to you” Caroline put a finger to her lips raising her eyes flirtatiously up him. “You look great- the suit is fitting” cami told klaus bringing his attention to her. “It was on the house” “of course it was, that’s such a klaus thing” hailey spoke.

I watched as the girls tried getting his attention saying literally anything to make him look at them. I sat there in silence watching the show. The way they giggled when he addressed them. Made me feel sick.

His hand fell on my shoulder.

“The real reason I came over was to ask you to dance” he told me staring into my eyes with that famous klaus smile on his mouth. “You- want to dance with me?” I stuttered in shock he’d picked me out of all the girls here. Me and klaus had a complicated relationship. We’d slept together a few times and we’d stop and talk to each other if we bumped into one another but it was a casual thing. I didn’t think he’d choose to dance with me.

“Of course you can have me for a dance, I’m just going to find the restroom and then I’ll look for you” I nodded at him with a little smile on my face. “I’ll be waiting” he took my hand and planted a kiss softly before vamping off back into the party.

“He’s so fucking gorgeous” hailey threw her head back groaning. “Literally heaven sent- god took his time with that man” Caroline laughed. “I’m definitely going to cut in for a dance after” Haliey looked over at me.

She didn’t say it maliciously. It wasn’t condescending, she was just being genuine and letting me know her plans. “Mmm not if I get there first” cami wiggled her eyebrows. “The things I’d do to him if he’d let me”. The girls giggled to each other, making me wonder which one of them would get him. They were all attractive girls each having their own personality and opinions, he’d be a fool to not pick one of them.

“I’m off to the bathroom ladies” I smiled standing up. “Come on girl we aren’t going to let you go in your own” Caroline told me bouncing up from her seat. I tipped the last of drink down my throat before saying. “Great because I have no clue where it is and this house is massive” I laughed as we made our way inside. Us four climbed the stairs taking a left as a gut feeling. “It must be around here somewhere” cami shrugged looking at the mass of doors.

“Try this one” hailey opened one of the doors, but it was just a libary. Full of old books from the ceiling to the floor. “Boring” she slammed the door closed making us laugh. “What about this one” Caroline pulled open the door opposite to it. “Woah- it’s not the bathroom but…” she blinked looking inside. “What is it?” Hailey sped to the door looking inside. Her face became mesmerised and slowly she started walking in. The two girls followed, I felt a bit odd snooping around his house.

It felt wrong. But when I saw what was in the room it felt like privacy didn’t really matter to klaus as much as i thought it did. The room was full of art work, paintings on easels, on the walls, everywhere. They were all of the same thing. Me.

The girls looked at me and I gazed around the room, my eyes were wide in awe. There was portraits, some where I was standing in felids or other dimensions. They were so creative. The ones that caught my attention the most were the nude ones.

I remembered the set I had on in one of the paintings, he’d put me in a position lying me on the bed with a rose in my mouth. They were so creative so extraordinary. He’d only seen my body a few times yet he got it so spot on. The detail and time that had been put into it was incredible.

“Fuck” hailey whispered under her breath as reality sank in. Cami bit her lip looking around the room. Her eyes were sad almost. “Did you pose for him? Did you know he did these?” Caroline asked me quietly.

I shook my head still in shock. “I had no idea about any of these” “they are all of you- every single one of them- there must be over a hundred” cami whispered not even looking at me. “What does this mean?” Hailey turned to me with a raised eyebrow. “I’m going to go find out” I swallowed and before waiting for anyone to say something

I was out of the room and running down the stairs. My eyes scanned the room for him and eventually spotted him talking to a large group of vampires.

I ran towards him swerving past people left, right and centre. Klaus noticed me straight away and stopped his conversation. “Why are you running? What happened?” He quizzed with a worried gleam in his eyes. His hand fell to my arm. “Klaus- why’s there a room full of paintings of me?” I pannted under my breath. I asked him straight out not caring for him to judge me. He’d be a hypocrite to cuss me for breaking boundaries or privacy. 

He just smiled before moving his hand to my face. “Because I want you y/n” he breathed out staring into my eyes. My heart skipped a beat. It punched me in my chest. My stomach flipped as those words filled my ears. “Me?” I blinked as my chest rose. “You have three beautiful girls pining for you and…” “and I want you” he cut me off shaking his head slightly. “All I want is you y/n”. In that moment I lept towards him, pushing my face onto his.

Our lips met in sync and the hand that was on my arm moved to my hip. Klaus pulled me closer to his body. Softly but passionately kissing me back. “Klaus” I whispered pulling only an inch away and leaning my forehead on his. “I want you”. “You’ve got me” he told me kissing my forehead before placing his back against mine.

His eyes wondered from me to the stair case where hailey, Caroline and cami stood watching us. I turned to look at them. They tried to hide the fact they weren’t happy about us being together but they didn’t do it incredibly well.

In that moment the music switched on. Klaus caught my eye again as people started getting ready for it. “May I take you for a dance m’lady” he smirked putting his arm out. “Of course you can handsome” I smiled linking arms with him. And with that we made our way to the face floor smitten with each other.

Klaus masterlist

The vampire diaries masterlist

All series masterlist

Masterlist of masterlists

[soulthrifted]

Can’t Escape You ↴

About - The reader has been through many relationships and in return has had their heart broken many times in various ways. They fear having their heart broken again, but there is just something so tempting about this Hermes boy. The way he makes them feel. The way he treats them, it’s surreal and like nothing they’ve ever felt. Maybe this time will be different.

Pairing - Luke Castellan/Gn Reader

Warnings - kissing (fluff)

A/N - This is my first time ever posting one of my writings on a social platform so any critic is welcome!! Also, please let me know if there is anything else you’d like to see me write :D

In a world where heartbreaks were familiar scars, I had found solice in the comforting rhythm of solitude. Yet, there, on the horizon of my guarded heart stood a figure. Luke Castellan. There was just something about him. Something about the way he looked at me. Like I wasn’t something just for him to devour, but something he was willing to savor. Something about the way he made me feel. Like I wasn’t just something he could have when he wanted and toss me to the side when he didn’t need me, but something he would cherish and adore for every second he had me.

He makes me feel different. He makes me feel special. I suppose that’s why I’m here now. On the shoreline of the lake late at night. It’s past curfew and I’m not meant to be out, I know that, but I just couldn’t stand the crowed cabin any longer. I needed to get out. I needed to think.

My thoughts are cut short when I hear a twig snap behind me ‘shit’ I think to myself. I’m caught. That’s when I hear a familiar voice call my name out. The voice of the boy that’s been haunting my every thought. It was only Luke.

“Is that you?” He asks as he approaches me.

I nod my head. Though, I’m not sure if he can see me. It’s rather dark, so I say “Yeah, it’s me.”

He sits down beside me in the sand and I can feel my heart rate begin to pick up at the proximity. His leg is touching mine. Now that I think about it, he’s always finding ways to touch me. Wether is during sparing and he is “fixing my stance” or taking my hand to drag me somewhere.

“What’re you doing out here so late?” He asks me, and I wonder the same thing about him.

“Just needed somewhere quiet to sit and think” I can feel Luke’s curious gaze on me as I stare out at the glistening water. “Why’re you out here so late?”

“Same as you.” I can still feel his curious gaze on me as he speaks. It’s almost as if he’s challenging me to look at him. “What’s on your mind.”

“It’s—“ I sigh and lean on his shoulder “I don’t know, it’s complicated.” I continue to watch the water as it ripples under the moonlight.

He places his arm around my waist and I can feel my skin ignite under his touch. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“I’m just overwhelmed is all.” I finally look at him with a reassuring smile. “Nothing you have need to worry about.”

Luke nods his head accepting that I’m not willing to talk about it just yet and I thank the gods he doesn’t push any farther. He turns to look out at the water and I do the same. “I see why you like it out here. It’s quiet.” He turns to face me again “Do you come out here often?”

I nod my head. “Yeah, I usually sit out here to get away from everything, from everyone.” I let out a content sigh before laying my head on his shoulder. “I used to think it was nice to be alone here, but I think I like it better with you with me.”

Luke chuckles and I can feel the blush build up on my face. I’m not usually so confident, but the mix of drowsiness and the comfort of the situation drags it out of me. “Really?” He asks me, almost whispering. “Am I better company than your thoughts?”

I nod my head. “You are my thoughts. Almost all of them. No matter where I go I cannot escape you, Luke Castellan.”

Luke pauses for a second and I lift my head from his shoulder. Had I made him uncomfortable? My racing thoughts are silenced when I hear him talk “Can I ask you something?” I nod my head, too nervous to say anything “May I hold your hand?” His question catches me off guard, but I nod my head almost instantly.

He takes my hand in his and it feels as though electricity is running through my body. He’s so gentle, so careful. My hand isn’t much smaller in comparison to his. His fingertips just barely extend past my own. He interlocks his fingers in mind and looks up from our intertwined hands and into my eyes. “The truth is, I came out here to do the same. To try and rid my mind of you. You’re all I can think of of. How beautiful you are, how perfect your eyes look under the sun, how your hair frames your face perfectly, how kind you are to everyone around you. You’re all I can think of and I know—“ He pauses “I know you haven’t had the best experiences with relationships, but I really do hope you’d be willing to give me a chance. I want to prove to you that there is more than just heart break. I want to show you how beautiful love can be. How beautiful our love can be.”

His words surprise me. Of course, I’ve had my suspicions that he liked me, but hearing him admit it out loud is something entirely different. He’s different. Everything about him is different. He says my name and it snaps me out of my daze. “Please.” He says softly, almost begging. All I can bring myself to do is nod my head

“I—Yes, Luke. I’m willing you give you a chance—is a chance. Gods it’s all I can think about.” He smiles and it feels as though the Earth has shifted. That smile, that beautiful smile. I can’t help but smile back at him.

his hand that isn’t holding mine makes its way onto my cheek and I watch as he glances at my lips before returning his gaze to my eyes. The look he’s giving me is, well it’s captivating. I nod my head and without hesitation he presses his lips to mine. The world seemed to fade away as we kissed, marking the beautiful beginning of a journey from friends to lovers.

[unloved-cadillac]

Tamaki getting jealous of his s/o hanging out with 1A kids and snatching her up and running away with her

C/n: back on the Suneater train let’s goooooo. Thanks for requesting and I hope that you enjoy🤍

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Stealing Her. (Tamaki x Reader)

In UA, it’s always best for the first years to watch the third years train so they could pick up on fighting techniques and how to handle themselves in villain situations. But they didn’t say you had hang around them all the time.

Y/n was the star of the first years. She was kind, sweet and really strong. She could easily take on 10 villains at a time. But her demeanor was so motherly and she always looked out for the young ones.

Tamaki hated it.

She was always with the first years, teaching them and showing them her quirk and Tamaki had to sit back and watch. At first it was cute but now they were taking up all of her time. All of their time together.

“Y/n, show us how to hit someone so they’re out cold.” Mina says and goes into a fighting stance. “Yeah! And show us how to knock the air out of someone!” Ochako says making Kirishima flinch and Y/n laughs.

“Geez the girls are tougher than the boys.” Mirio says as he sits next to Tamaki. “Yeah. But they’re all greedy for her attention.” He grumbles and Mirio looks at his best friend. “Oohhh sounds like someone’s jealoussss.” He teases and bumps Tamaki’s shoulder. “I hate to admit it, Mirio but I am. I haven’t been with her for weeks.”

Mirio nods in understanding then hands Tamaki a package. “What’s this?” He asks and Mirio gets up, stretching as he does. “Something to help you out. Use it wisely.” Is all he says before jogging to Y/n and the first years. Tamaki opens the package and chuckles to himself.

“Oh hey Mirio!” Mina says and Y/n turns to see him. “Hey kiddos. Learning a lot from Y/n?”

“Yeah!”

“Enjoying listening to her?”

“Yeah!”

“Good. Now stand back.” He says and gently pushes them away. Y/n looks at them and Mirio and chuckles. “Why? I don’t under-WHOAAAA!” Y/n is suddenly scooped up by someone and gone into the sky. “Was that Hawks?” Kaminari asks and Mirio chuckles. “Nah. Hawks has red wings. Those were black.”

In the sky, Y/n looks up to see her kidnapper. She laughs. “Honey, where are we going?” She asks but wasn’t expecting an answer cause Tamaki couldn’t talk. Instead they flew to one of the mountains just a few minutes away from the dorm and laid her gently on the ground before sitting next to her.

“Wow,” she says as she looks at him, “a crow. Not bad.” Tamaki lays his head on her lap and breathes out, transforming back into himself. “God, that took a lot of energy.” He croaks out and Y/n runs a hand through his hair. “Mind telling me what that was about?”

He blushes as he looks away. “We haven’t..hung out in a while. I was missing you.” His voice was mumbled but Y/n heard him clearly. Suddenly, she laughed and quickly laid on top of Tamaki. She kissed his nose, then his cheeks, his forehead and finally his lips.

“Mm.” He hums against her lips. Pulling away, Y/n smiles at her boyfriend who now had flushed cheeks. “You’re so cute. Turning into a crow to take me away from them cause you missed me. I love you.” She whispers and he touches her bottom lip with his thumb. It’s silent until Y/n’s phone vibrates. She takes it out of her pocket and shakes her head.

“We need a day off,” Y/n says and looks at Tamaki, “just you and me. We’ll finish train. Go back to my home, eat and watch movies. I owe you that. I’m sorry for neglecting you, my love.”

Tamaki smiles and kisses your forehead. “No. I was being dramatic, that’s all. They all love you. Almost as much as I do.”

“Almost as much as you?”

“No one could love you as much as I do.”

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“sobs I WANT HIM.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.