#the gif is misty copeland | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dorothyrryontour · 2 years

Text

if harry styles were your boyfriend in 2015

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, he would have had to spend a long time convincing you to date him. This is because he is an Aquarius man who loves Charles Bukowski and wears skinny jeans, and you’d have listened to 1989. You didn’t want to make yourself look dumb by believing a member of One Direction, a band for whom every teenage girl within a million kilometer radius would manually rip off their fingernails to share a breath with, would be seriously, genuinely interested in you. But Harry, ever the hopeless romantic in spite of the height of his broody-bad-boy phase, would fly out regularly to knock on your door and take you to dinner. He would send you flowers randomly at work, and, one time, he would rent out an amusement park for your family on your little brother’s birthday. Your family obviously had many questions about this, and your friends had already begun telling their friends that you were dating Harry Styles. When you anxiously promised a group of 20 you’d hook them up with One Direction tickets, he did not hesitate to oblige. Eventually, you agreed to let him be your boyfriend provided he agreed to calm the fuck down.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you’d learn that the band had become much more of a business than a group of friends over the years. This means that you only ever met Liam Payne twice, and he was only nice the second time. Harry tells you in advance that the band is going to break up, and that they’re going to call it a hiatus, but he has a feeling it will be forever. He sheds a few tears over it actually and makes you swear to take this to your grave. You don’t know if he means the fact that he’s going solo, or the fact that he’s so nervous about it that it makes him tearful. Either way, your lips are sealed.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you’d have to learn to deal with the fact that he won’t publicly defend you against white teen girls calling you racial slurs online. However, he would tell you regularly how important you are to him, and you would make all your socials private so you could post cheesy couple’s pictures with him for just your close friends and family.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you would expect a fruitful familiarity to burgeon between yourself and insecurity. He’s Harry fucking Styles. He’s a quarter of the biggest boyband walking the planet right now. He’s tall and tan, with bright green eyes, and long greasy hair, and this million-gigawatt, dimpled, bunny-toothed smile. He’s a Rockstar. Everyone salivates when he just so much as breathes, and he can afford to buy a new plate every time he eats if only to avoid washing the dishes. This power dynamic had made you reluctant to date him at all in the first place. But, oddly enough, you are almost entirely wrong. Quite the contrary, actually, because when Harry Styles is your boyfriend in 2015, you wake up one day and realise that you are utterly teeming with this new, extraordinary (maybe unfounded) sense of pure, unbridled confidence. Just the rawest, most authentic sort.

You would saunter with the posture of Misty Copeland, and speak with the cadence of a fearsome king. Far be it from you anymore to tolerate rude coworkers, or restaurants getting your order wrong, or toxic friendships. No, now, like your boyfriend, you would find yourself commanding interactions. He would find it sexy, and he would tell you. This would only serve to stoke the fire of your self-worth even more. Your center of mass would be spread across your whole body, and not even Lucifer himself could knock you over. You’d argue with your boyfriend like he’d never leave; how could he? What is he, out of your league or something? No one is. Harry Styles—who could not even iron his own shirts, or figure out how to deal with his extended family members, or remember to call the plumbers about the faucet issue—would be lucky to have you. It would never occur to you to feel inadequate.

Speaking of arguing, if Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you two would actually argue quite a bit. When things were good, they were just phenomenal, but he would tend not to understand your point of view whenever you dared to tell him something he did upset you. He’d be immature, and do shit like complain about how he ‘needs his space’, proceed to ghost you for weeks, then show up with some fancy gift and the most cloistering attitude to which you’d ever borne witness when he realized he couldn’t function without you. If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you would get whiplash with all his mood swings, and break up four months in, only to get back together again. Your second swing at things would last four months and a day.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, your wardrobe would suddenly take on a dark and neutral colour scheme, right before your very eyes. You'd look sophisticated in long coats. You'd wear scarves and boots, and skinny jeans and… hats? Yeah, if Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you would miraculously become the sort of person who wears hats. One day, a friend would point out to you how, ever since you started dating Harry Styles, you dress like a rich lesbian mom. They would promptly follow this statement up with a genuinely perplexed utterance of how, “You somehow still manage to make it look cool.” “It’s the Harry Styles effect,” you’d reply, mostly joking until you reflect one day and realize yes, you and Harry do dress the same, and yes, you do look like a couple of rich gay mothers. But yes, you somehow still look cool. You two would actually look so cool and put together whenever you stepped out that even people who had no idea he was Harry Styles would compliment your collective style; you’d almost always be matching, though it’d never be planned. Your paparazzi pictures would be studied in fashion courses. You’d steal Harry’s funkier shirts and cozier jackets, and you’d wear the band tees he doesn’t quite find cool anymore – he’d just go crazy over that last one. Not outwardly crazy, and he wouldn’t even tell you he likes you wearing his old band tees. But you’d know.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, he would buy a house in Hampstead and call it “our house”. You two would never get the chance to move into Our House. He wouldn’t sell Our House until a year after you two were over, and that’d hit him harder than the breakup itself.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you’d be late to things. Deadlines and events and suchlike. The reasons would range from you and Harry arguing in a cab over the directions to your destination, to Harry loving the dress you’ve chosen to wear that night so much that he simply has to rip it off your very body and ruin your hair and makeup and whatever reputation for perfect attendance you once sported. You and Harry would tend to stay up and out late. At night clubs, soirées, or social gatherings. You’d become a night owl. Unfortunately, you’d start waking up later too, and you’d never be well rested, so you’d eventually become a bit more gripey and grumpy of a person than you were prior to dating Harry Styles in 2015. Your breath would always smell like coffee, or mint gum to mask it.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you’d never know where your keys are, and you’d fall asleep with your makeup on.

Your friends wouldn’t point out the negative effects of this relationship until after you two broke up, but while Harry Styles is your boyfriend in 2015, your friends actually love him. If he planned to fly you out somewhere and you wanted to bring a little entourage along, he’d happily accommodate them. And at dinner parties he’d be funny and charming and humour all who were interested (usually everyone) with unheard tales of crazy Ibiza rendezvous with Ed Sheeran. You would, however, have one or two friends that would develop a little less than friendly relationship with him – like maybe your roommate and him would bicker a lot. It’d probably be because he guzzles your milk and tosses the empty carton back in the fridge like an asshole, and gets annoyed when other people so much as pass through the room while you two are having an argument. Your roommate would say Harry has made you prickish and messy, that Harry’s bad for you and not that big of a deal, and you wouldn’t realize at the time she’s actually just looking out for you.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend, he would genuinely find you funny, and he would tell you this with tears in his eyes whenever you landed a good joke. This would make your heart swell so large it’d knock your lungs around, because you would truly consider him to be one of the most hilarious people you knew. Any praise from him, who may as well be perfect, would be of the highest variety.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend, he’d open the door for you. In fact, everyone would open the door for you. Men and women and whoever else would tend to step aside for you, and you’d never have to do that stupid, awkward side-to-side dance thingy that people do when someone blocks their path ever again. People would just be polite to you. And no more would you have to bear the chagrin of a joke of yours not being laughed at, because, if Harry Styles thinks you’re funny, chances are you’re a total riot.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, he’d be a bad driver. He’d always try to busy his hands with unzipping the fly of your jeans, or digging feverishly under your skirt like you’re hoarding buried treasure, as opposed to holding the wheel. But when you’ve just had a fight, he drives perfectly, and silently. Halfway through the journey he’ll play some Joni Mitchell from his phone (eyes still barely leaving the road, focusing with that intense stare he’d always do in 2015, and lips sealed shut), then, shortly after, his hand would find your knee. Not your thigh, your knee. And you wouldn’t shake him off. By the end of the drive, chances are you two would no longer be fighting. You wouldn’t be too sure if this was the healthiest way to end an argument, but you prefer it to cutthroat scream-fights laced with below the belt digs, or makeup sex (because, while it was fun and all, it would have become a bit of a get-out-of-jail-free card, and you were quite certain that wasn’t healthy).

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, your mum would love him, and your dad would hate him until the third time you two visited. The third time you two visited, you’d walk onto your parents’ patio to find Harry Styles and your dad laughing like old buddies and Harry would refuse to tell you what it is he said to change your generally stubborn father’s tune so fantastically. After the breakup, your dad would mention him with this sort of mournful, disappointed look on his face for years to come.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you’d never truly feel like a part of his life the way you were sure you’d made him a part of yours, and you wouldn’t be sure why, nor could you seem to find the right words with which to bring this up. You could, however, appreciate that he didn’t hesitate to introduce you to his friends and family the moment you let him know you were ready. He wasn’t reluctant, or ashamed, and he wouldn’t make it weird at all. Just took you around a couple parties and dinners and beamed at you extra sparkly-like when you shook the hand of someone extra special to him. You wouldn’t expect that you’d get along better with his famous friends than his mates from youth.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you would text Kendall Jenner way more often than anyone would believe. It would only be awkward sometimes, but she’s nicer than you gave her credit for, and you reckon she has less feelings for Harry than his old girlfriend from high school, from whom you’d receive pointed stares whenever Harry brought you to a pub in Cheshire with his school friends.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, he would care about you. He would really, truly look after you and care about you in ways you didn’t know twenty one year old men were capable of. When you accidentally messed up his expensive clothes, or called him during important meetings, he would never, for a single moment, make you feel as though you were a burden, or like his fame came before you. Ever. He would always walk on the side closest to the street when you were out and about, and hand you his sunglasses when his Harry Sense tingled, letting him know someone, somewhere nearby, was taking pictures. He would always have his eyes on you to know where you’re at when you two were separated at an event, and he would triple check the locks on every door and window before he could even think of getting some peaceful rest. He would need to know he could be your safe space, and so he would hold you while you cried and screamed. He would smile and laugh with you when you wished to be silly and fun. He would sit and listen when you spoke to him about the things that have happened in your life to make you who you are. He would be the firm, nice-smelling pillow you could lay your head against when you’d had a rough day and couldn’t really be around anyone else. And he would be well equipped with a reassuring smile and nod whenever you dared to feel doubtful or scared or insecure.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you actually wouldn’t braid his hair. Not ever. In fact, you’d barely ever touch his hair, and you wouldn’t know how he’d react if you just combed your hand through one day. So, you never did.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you would almost get a dog together, almost, but you wouldn’t. Which is good, because very shortly after you two visited a shelter in Hampstead together to satiate your dog-parent fantasies, played around with the idea of something more permanent and stable as you played around with the dogs, you would break up. For good.

If Harry Styles were your boyfriend in 2015, you two would break up for good because he cheated on you with some rando from Carolina, and, almost immediately after you found out, you’d tell yourself you saw it coming. This would be half-true, but it would also serve as way to comfort yourself, because you cannot bear to deal with the fact that you maybe, just maybe–for a horrid, saccharine, fleeting, naïve moment–thought you two would work out.

If Harry Styles were your ex-boyfriend in 2015, he would take your ability to love and just tear it to utter shreds with his bare hands. You would never be the same. Though you’d heal with time, you would shudder as he became more and more famous over the years, and you were forced to be reminded of him way more often than one deserves to be reminded of their ex.

But, eventually, you’d look back on your relationship with Harry Styles in 2015 fondly. You reckon you are now a more confident person, a more stylish person, a more introspective person, a better kisser, a better fighter, and a more voracious Taylor Swift fan patiently waiting for the release of 1989 (Taylor’s Version), so you may uncover those silly, gooey, raging emotions you buried in Hampstead seven years ago, if only for shits and giggles.

(You try not to listen to any of his music, but you betrayed yourself recently. Something about Boyfriends made you almost want to get in touch with him again. Almost.)

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #poc reader coded #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #if x were your y #townes supremacy #lhh #harry styles my canonically toxic parasocial bf #lhh ruin my ability to love challenge #character study?#boyfriends #inspired by the toast

78 notes · View notes

chickawah23 · 1 year

Text

The mlm pairing during the Lover performance on tour

Feels like it is a non-ballet version of the Misty Copeland routine from Taylor’s Artist of the Decade finale performance

#artist of the decade performance #lover era was special #tswizzle on tourizzle #Youtube

32 notes · View notes

battlekilt · 1 year

Text

S/B: You can't have Rex, even if he is biologically female, with a body based off a ballerina— Me: Folks, let me introduce you to Misty Copeland:

Tell me that those legs could not ROCK a kama or that she would be too weak to carry 80lbs of armor for hours and hours on end. She doesn't become a ballerina of her stature and her credentials without the stamina that would exhaust most Navy SEALS.

My only change: I will fight to have Rex a member of the itty bitty titty committee.

PS. My female Rex is... he/him. But you, you may call him, Captain/Sir.

#au: rexx #captain rex #// i really should commission more art #// but finding artists who do realistic styles and experience with Clone Troopers is tricky?#// honestly though just semi-realistic #// or just those who are confident in anatomy #// and then i get distracted with trying to find a way #// for his trooper-ness to be represented gets tricky for me

39 notes · View notes

jp-swag · 3 months

Text

stardomiscalling

What genre of dance do you prefer? I studied quite a few types at NYADA, but ballet will always hold a special place in my heart.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I love Ballet. My technique is tight. Misty Copeland is like my idle. But I think modern dance is tops for me. I dream of dancing with the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater company just once.

NYADA huh? Did you hate it or something? What are you doing here?

#convo #convo:rachel #rachel berry

3 notes · View notes

laughterbynight · 1 year

Text

Le Comfort Tags

this is going to be long

these tags are brought to you by @burntotears

Comfort Movie(s): 2005 Pride & Prejudice, Jurassic Park, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, A Little Princess, The Secret Garden, and Under the Tuscan Sun. Can't remember how well some of those aged...

Comfort Food (s): (okay so for about 9 months I had long covid before we had vaccines, which means, weirdly, my body developed allergies to a lot of foods I could tolerate previously. Old faves have *)

Cheese, big glass of Milk*, Pizza*, Tortellini Alfredo*, Miso Soup, Diet Coke*, Oat Milk Ice Cream, Teriyaki Salmon, Petit Fours*, Pastry Cream*.

Comfort Clothing: A very oversized T Shirt and nothing else or baggy pants and a velvet crop top. Very specific but it's my favorite thing to wear when I'm being cozy. I do like big sweaters but if I get overheated the feeling is ruined immediately.

Comfort Song(s): I apologize in advance but there's no way to make this short. Daydreaming means I'm always switching between a line up of songs that transport my brain to other places or set off specific feelings. Some probably don't sound comfortable per se but the familiarity is what gets me. A few have been my go-to escapism songs for well over a decade. And of course the line up is always in flux. Also, like, fanfic mood music is a must yo.

BZY-The Earth Laughs In Flowers Jean Dawson - Pirate Radio The 1975 - Happiness Great Heart - Johnny Clegg & Savuka the verve - bittersweet symphony Deco - bittersweet symphony New Radicals - You Get What You Give Tracy Chapman - Crossroads Temple of the Dog(aka soundgarden and pearl jam) - Hunger Strike ODESZA - Line Of Sight Steve Conte - Call Me Call Me The Midnight - We Move Forward Savage Garden - I Want You Stewart Copeland (yes from the police) - Misty Bog (spyro the dragon) Angels & Airwaves - The Adventure Broke for Free - A Beautiful Life Cressida- 6am (Kyau & Albert Remix) Niklas Harding & Arcane- Ice Beach Michael Cassette - Wateresque Nitrous Oxide - North Pole Fire Flowerz - Sugar

Technically you could probably put any intro and outro from the og toonami line up on this list. I stg it's like getting smacked in the face with nostalgia to hear anything from that time.

*if a song is like 8 minutes jump ahead 2. That usually gets you past the warm up.

Comfort Book(s): The Birth of the Firebringer, Vol 1. of the Sailor Moon manga, Pride and Prejudice (specifically the audio version by the sleepy bookshelf) which is also on spotify, and probably ACOMAF (the rest can rot but I still love that ONE book.)

Comfort Game(s): Spyro the Dragon (I know this game too well), Tomba 1 & 2, Stardew Valley, Harvest Moon DS Cute, Dewprism/Threads of Fate.

Comfort Streamers:

Tbh although I check in with a handful of streamers from time to time Ray is probably who I watch the most. Quick wit, sarcasm, and snark are my favorite things, so Ray is my go-to. (yes, that Ray. He escaped RT a long time ago. It's a whole thing that's been talked about by him. He's a safe one, don't worry.)

RayNarvaezJr.

dude plays pretty much anything and everything but if I had to rec somewhere to start go with either pokemon or stardew if you want chill vibes, or watch his plays of any of the resident evil or yakuza games for fuckery.

Comfort Youtube Channels:

I'm adding this because I use a few when I'm overwhelmed and need something familiar or gentle to watch. Separate from gaming stuff.

Kennie JD - Bad movies and a beat playlist (kennie is just hysterical anyway but omg these reviews. The Twilight ones in particular get me every time.

Anti-Chef - Watch Jamie attempt to cook through Julia Child's cookbooks. It's very charming and you're always rooting for him. He's very real about the process which is nice.

Dominic Noble - Lost in Adaptation. Exactly what it sounds like. Books vs Film and TV but he's also not an ass about it so it's a pleasant experience.

nigiricco - Bento videos like every three days it's wild but imo soothing to watch.

Sophia Phan - Movie Commentaries. She's adorable.

Imamu room - MORE BENTO

Joconde's baking - Really soothing baking videos imo as long as you don't mind the sound of it. Like almost asmr if that helps.

Chocolate Cacao - The master of baking chocolate I stg

José - Video essays and damn good retrospectives including scrubs, that 70s show, boy meets world, the golden girls, cheers, the fresh prince etc.

The Movie Budz - More great film commentary

PBS Idea Channel - Okay so this channel has been dead for 6 years now but it's STILL full of amazing videos that I have yet to see matched in their depth and scope. Plus it's nearly all pop culture which keeps it fun an accessible. If you aren't familiar with PBSID I highly suggest sifting through the archive. There are videos on everything from The Pokemon War Theory to How Does Night Vale Confront Us With the Unknown?

Hbomberguy - The dude with the Pathologic video. His other stuff is really good too.

Folding Ideas - Video essays and commentary plus some really good deep dives into other subjects like NFTs, Flat Earthers, and the Ralph Bakshi Lord of the Rings uh adaptation?

Primitive Technology - Okay, you know those videos YT recs where it looks like two guys built a hotel out of bamboo or something but it's clearly fake? This is the guy they're mimicking.

Peaceful Cuisine - Mostly vegan and/or gluten free cooking. Most videos have an asmr version and a version with soft music playing.

Was all of that necessary? Probably not. I am now tired. To think I trimmed down what I was going to add.

Tagging folks but like everyone feel free to do it, and no you don't have to do all the categories I did. I added the youtube videos and went kinda wild with music.

Going by my activity page again otherwise this will be too long

@loveayeti @corpsefluid @deviess @metaphysicaltelephone @cobaltbluepub @kerrykhat @doommsatic @isixdream @aetheling @thesoilofblackpepper @blue-shale @thematurescholar @ghost-proof @pixiereadsb00ks @dreaminginspacecowboy @truculentbantam @tfisathoughtfulnickelbakeryfire Zuloo Idk why I can't tag you but I see your ass on my activity page so consider yourself tagged.

#how do i even tag this?#overshare #comfort tags

10 notes · View notes

heavyhitterheaux · 1 year

Note

Here you go feeding my Misty Copeland crush! 😍😍😍😍 I’m all for you using her again!

I absolutely ADORE her 😭😭😭

And I will definitely use her again!

#a moment captured

4 notes · View notes

wealthtv · 16 days

Note

mw careers you'd like to see?

bring me some model careers!! some athletes and film directors!! i want to see a kendall jenner, gisele, cara delevigne, emrata and hailey bieber career claims, and who doesn't love those former victoria secret angels. maria sharapova, serena williams, simone biles, david backham, roger federer, leonel messi, travis kelce and tom brady for the athletes. a young upcoming steven spielberg, tim burton, wes anderson or darren aronfsky, but give us more women behind the camera with sofia coppola, chloé zhao, and greta gerwig. some professional dancers with misty copeland, maddie ziegler, and benjamin millepied.

#appless rp #new rp #rich kids rp #mumu rp #mw.

0 notes

win-free-iphone8 · 2 years

Text

Misty Copeland Launches Initiative To Make Ballet Inclusive

Misty Copeland Launches Initiative To Make Ballet Inclusive #Misty #Copeland #Launches #Initiative #Ballet #Inclusive Welcome to Americanah Blog, here is the new story we have for you today: Click Here To Continue Reading from Source Black America Web Featured Video CLOSE Misty Copeland attends the 2021 Glamour Women of the Year Awards at the Rainbow Room at Rockefeller Center in Nov. 2021.…

View On WordPress

0 notes

rosepompadour · 2 years

Photo

ANNA PAVLOVA in THE FAIRY DOLL At the top of a few stairs a curtain was drawn back, and there stood The Fairy Doll, Anna Pavlova, in a pale pink ballet skirt, a pink wig with a net of pearls over it, and a wand in her hand. - Harcourt Algeranoff

#historicwomendaily #anna pavlova #ballet #*#to see pavlova dance!#i am Very Low in the hierarchy of the ballet world but the atlanta ballet is best friends with the new york city ballet #we're super connected with them #and i was talking to a few of our dancers recently and they told me that misty copeland is an unbelievable bitch #i refuse to believe this #apparently she wouldn't make eye contact in rehearsals and i said 'she's probably just laser-focused!'#you'd think her fellow ballerinas would understand this but non #i will not tolerate misty slander

619 notes · View notes

lady-arryn · 3 years

Photo

Misty Copeland as The Ballerina Princes THE NUTCRACKER AND THE FOUR REALMS (2018) dir. Lasse Hallström & Joe Johnston

#the nutcracker and the four realms #disney #disneyedit #filmedit #fantasyedit #misty copeland #**#*gif #*the nutcracker and the four realms

2K notes · View notes

chickawah23 · 2 years

Note

Do you know what happened to the karlie post about matching ballerina outfits for the AMAs?

If you are referring to this picture from her Instagram. It wasn’t Karlie intentionally matching the Artist of the Decade performance. It was just an old post from like 2014 or something that she had and people made the connection between her ballet look and Taylor + Misty copeland’s looks for the set closing Lover performance.

BUT you can still check Karlie’s Twitter and see her other throwback baby ballet post from Dec 7, 2018

5 notes · View notes

feelinglikecleopatra · 3 years

Text

Kings and Queens

The filth is here—as promised!

~*~*~

Fandom: Six of Crows / Kaz Brekker x Inej Ghafa

Word count: 4,394

Rating: M (it's smut, just... that's it. i have no excuse.)

CW: nada. just good, not-so-clean fun.

A/N: This fic takes place in my Modern AU, Good Investments.

Summary: Inej was far away, lost in the music and the dance, breathless with it. She was never as beautiful as when she existed only for herself, Kaz thought. This was Inej Ghafa at her purest, her most content. Kaz would happily spend the rest of his days, just paying witness to her.

Eventually, though, she stopped and all her focus narrowed on him.

Oh, the sweet promises held in that look.

~*~*~

When Kaz arrived, the foyer was unlit but for a spill of fluorescence from the street.

This, Inej being the last person in the building, was becoming a habit. Despite the fact the studio shared the space with a start-up on the floor bellow and an investment firm on the floor above. Inej was last out almost every night. A workaholic, regardless of the work. He should have known.

Over the sound of his cane tapping against the linoleum, Kaz could make out the bass in whatever Inej was dancing to. It thrummed through the space like some behemoth’s heartbeat and led him to the door of the studio. He lingered for a moment, loath to interrupt her.

Leaning heavily on his cane, Kaz watched Inej’s shadow dance through the crack under the door. Her steps were so light they made barely a sound. For all he knew, she never touched the ground at all.

It had been a long day, his knee was throbbing slightly, and he really just wanted to see her so, eventually he gave in and slid into the room. Her eyes flicked to meet his as she twisted out of the splits. Though she’d seen him, Inej didn’t stop. The steady thump of the music carried her through the routine—something she’d been choreographing for a while.

Kaz sat down on a stack of mats against the back wall and, content to watch her, settled in.

After their first exchanged glance, Inej kept her eyes on her reflection. Painfully exacting, Kaz watched her pick up on and correct every dropped elbow and awkward isolation until her movements were smooth as silk, faultless.

With the sheen of sweat visible even across the room, the delicate sweep of her clavicle stood out starkly above the neckline of her leotard. When she turned from him, Kaz traced the movement of her arms, the shift of her shoulder blades beneath the umber skin of her back, down the ridges of her spin.

Inej was far away, lost in the music and the dance, breathless with it. She was never as beautiful as when she existed only for herself, Kaz thought. This was Inej Ghafa at her purest, her most content. Kaz would happily spend the rest of his days, just paying witness to her.

Eventually, though, she stopped.

Panting, Inej stood with her hands on her hips. Kaz’s own breath caught in his throat when she smiled at him in the mirror, cocking her head slightly. Come here. The words danced in her eyes and he did not have the self control to resist.

He was wearing a heavy overcoat, still buttoned against the cold outside so, standing before him in her leotard and tights, Inej looked naked by comparison.

Maintaining eye contact in the mirror, she rocked back on her heels and rested her head against his sternum. When he curled his free arm around her waist, she slumped more fully into him and let out a soft little sigh. The sound slid right through Kaz and, in answer, he flattened his hand over her belly to hold her closer.

“Hello,” she said, still smiling that smile.

“Hello, Inej.” Kaz leaned down and kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes and breathing her in.

“How was your day?” When he looked up again, her eyes were narrowed by her smile.

“Boring but—better now,” he said, sliding his hand up and over her ribs. Inej’s eyes glittered like an ocean full of stars. “How was your day?”

“Great, actually,” she said, still a little breathless. “One of the girls i was worried about—you know the one, i told you about her last week—anyway, she told me she had an interview on Monday and that without this class she would never had had the confidence to go and that now that she’s done one she’s not so scared about others and—” Inej cut herself off and laughed, covering her face with her hands. “I’m rambling.”

“Ramble away,” Kaz chuckled. “This sounds like very good news, like you really helped her.”

“She didn’t need me to help her, really. It was her own strength in the end.” Inej shook her head and he watched, fascinated, as colour crept up her neck.

“Inej.” Kaz turned her slightly in his arms and gave her a squeeze. “You know I have no patience for false modesty. Sure, she might have come to realise this all on her own but she thanked you for helping her get there.”

Inej rolled her eyes but Kaz didn’t miss the way she smiled as she ducked her head. “You’re an ass.”

“I’m your ass.”

Inej laughed then, her shoulders shaking in the circle of his arms and Kaz felt an answering smile tug at his lips. There was no sweeter sound—he could get drunk off it.

Tipping her head back, she looked at him, still smiling. “You are,” she said, cupping his jaw and tilting his head down to her.

Lightening cracked through him as their mouths met.

Not a harbinger of doom but a flash of desire, coursing through his veins. Kaz slid his hand around her side and pulled her around to face him fully. He drew back for a breath and shifted his head for a better angle. When their lips met again, he felt her melt into him. With every breath her breasts pressed against him and Kaz burned, hungry for her.

Since overcoming the worst of their demons, Kaz had often wondered about all the years he’d been in Inej’s company without being able to touch her. To be here now, her hands walking up his chest and around his neck and into his hair, was almost enough to make a believer of him.

Perhaps the saints were watching over him, after all. There could be no mistake, she was a blessing. One he did not deserve but would treasure for as long as she would let him.

When next they pulled apart, they were both breathing heavily. Inej’s hands were tangled in his hair, pulling lightly at the raven strands, and his hand was dipping below the edge of her leotard. She grinned at him, slow and sweet like treacle, as he pressed his fingers into the curve of her ass.

“Here?” Her eyebrow was in the vicinity of her hairline.

“Why not?” Kaz looked around them. The studio was empty, the whole building was empty. Then he looked up to the mirror and ran his eyes over the sight of Inej in his arms, his hand pale against her dark skin. “Could be interesting.”

“Kaz Brekker,” she said, mock serious. “What if someone decided to come back for some late night practice?”

“Then we’d have an audience,” he shrugged. Kaz watched Inej’s pupils widen and smirked. “I’m sure we could put on a good show.”

“Kaz!” Inej did her best to sound scandalised, she went so far as to pull back slightly, but Kaz heard her intake of breath, the way she swallowed and glanced at his lips.

“Inej?” He leaned down and pressed an open mouthed kiss to the corner of her mouth. “If I’d known a little exhibitionist talk got you so excited I would have tried my hand at it a lot sooner.”

A sound very much like a whimper passed her full lips and Kaz felt himself grow hot under his clothes.

For a small eternity they stood watching each other. Standing on a knife edge, a highwire, they waited. For what, neither could say.

Then, without warning, they plummeted.

The fall was precipitous.

Kaz was wearing too many clothes. The scramble to get him out of them was inelegant but efficient. Inej had all the buttons of his shirt undone before his coat finished pooling on the floor. An image of creased linen passed through his head and was promptly banished by the feel of Inej’s mouth. She was kissing the stubbled underside of his chin, mouthing over the column of his throat, licking at the flutter of his pulse.

The weighted crows-head of his cane landed with a crack on the vinyl floor and Kaz felt Inej flinch as the sound ricochetted around the room. She huffed a laugh, pressing her face into his now bare chest.

“Sorry,” Kaz winced.

“No, you’re not.” The girl of his dreams raised an eyebrow at him. His hands were full of her.

“You’re right, as always. My love, my darling, my sweetest Inej, I’d rather hold you than that cane.”

She laughed again and kaz felt his heart swell in his chest. He could hardly believe his luck to be holding her like this, to be holding her at all.

Inej kissed his chest and slid her hands under the collar of his shirt, scratching blunt nails through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Though he tried, Kaz couldn’t stop the low, animal sound he made at the sensation. “My most pious Inej.”

Then, their mouths met again. Some of the urgency of before had waned, replaced by a lazy kind of exploration. Inej licked and tugged at his bottom lip, drawing his head down to meet her. They pulled apart with a wet smack and he kissed his way over her cheek, before licking the shell of her ear.

Though he’d have stayed entangled like this forever if he could, his leg gave up a bark of protest as he shifted his weight. Kaz pulled away and, grumbling, pressed his forehead to hers.

“Your knee?” She whispered, ever observant. “Has it been giving you trouble today?”

“It’s always giving me trouble.”

“It’s the damp,” Inej looked up at him. “You shouldn’t have come out of your way—I bet you walked too.”

Affronted, he put a hand on his chest. “Are you saying you’d rather I hadn’t come? Because last I checked, you were happily divesting me of my clothes just now.”

“Oh, hush up!” She huffed with a roll of her eyes. Then, hands on his narrow hips, Inej nudged Kaz toward the mirrors. “Sit.”

He raised an eyebrow at the command in her voice but lowered himself to the ground without complaint. Sitting with his back to the mirrors and his legs splayed out in front of him, Kaz watched as Inej curled slender fingers under the straps of her leotard. The low thrum of the music that was still playing wrapped itself around them.

A small, sly smile slid across Inej’s face as she tugged first one strap, then the other down her shoulders. She was wearing a plain sports bra underneath but even so, Kaz’s breath became shallow as she revealed inch after inch of her dark copper skin. Turning on the spot, she looked over her left shoulder and pushed the leotard down her torso and over her hips. It pooled on the floor beside his discarded coat—a puddle of mauve lycra.

Standing in front of him in only her underwear, Inej skimmed a hand over the sweep of a collarbone, up the length of her neck, down between her breasts. Kaz’s grit his teeth and swallowed thickly. He couldn’t stop his eyes from tracing the toned planes of her stomach, the way the muscles in her thighs shifted as she moved, the way her lips parted and her eyes darkened. Suddenly, his trousers were too tight. Under her heavy gaze, Kaz couldn’t bring himself to adjust them.

“Can I touch you?” The question came out with more gravel than usual.

Inej nodded and stepped into the bracket of his legs.

It occurred to him that it’d been a while since he’d really taken his time with her. Kaz always savoured Inej—as was his nature—but maybe he’d also gotten used to having her around, crawling into bed with her of an evening, letting her take him in her arms. Too often these days, Inej lost hours at the studio and he at the new shop on the lid. Their intimacy had grown small and prosaic. Kaz smiled at the thought.

“What’re you smiling about?” Inej narrowed her eyes at him.

“I was just thinking,” he said, cupping the backs of her knees and tugging her closer. “It seems… impossible, but I think I’ve grown used to you, to us.”

Inej carded her fingers through his hair. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not afraid any more.” Kaz traced patterns over the back of her thighs as he spoke. “You used to scare me, Inej.” Her expression was open, earnest. She let him process. “You were the answer to so many questions I was too afraid to ask. Running away from all that, and not just you but being with anyone, opening up to anyone, is probably how I got so far so young but I’m glad I’m not afraid any more. I’m unbelievably grateful you waited.”

Inej cupped the back of his neck and stooped to kiss him lightly. “I wasn’t waiting. You were there the whole time but… I was also making my way. It took a second but we found each other. And, for what its worth, I’m grateful too.”

The only answer he had to that was a shuddering sigh. He kissed the downy skin beneath her navel and let his eyes flutter shut. The smell, the taste of her reminded him what they’d been about to do and suddenly he was ravenous again.

Sliding his hands up her legs, Kaz cupped her ass and pulled her against him more firmly. She gasped as he dragged his mouth along the hem of her underwear, open mouthed kisses teasing the soft skin of her belly.

Hesitating a moment, Kaz looked up at her. “May I?” He tugged on her cotton panties. When she bit her lip, he teased, “shy now, are we?”

“Get on with it, Brekker.”

Kaz swallowed a laugh and focused on getting his girl out of her remaining fetters. Above him, Inej unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor to join the rapidly growing pile of clothes. Shifting slightly away from the mirror, he lifted her left leg over his shoulder and with a thumb, parted her to his hungry gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathed. Kaz knew if he looked up now, he’d find the most gorgeous flush spreading from Inej’s stomach to her chest. Unfortunately, or fortunately, he was rather occupied by his present view.

With two, three, four broad licks Kaz earned an earful of whimpers that had him straining against the fly of his trousers with renewed urgency. He flicked his tongue over her clit more firmly and Inej bowed over, grabbing the bar above his head with a whine.

The first time he’d tasted her like this, Kaz had been clumsy. He’d always been better with his hands. But Inej had been only too happy to let him figure it out, as he was determined to do.

And now…

The hand not wrapped around Inej’s hip, skimmed over her ribs and teased a puckered nipple as she came undone against his mouth. Strong fingers tangled in his hair and Kaz groaned at the sting.

“Kaz.”

“What do you need?”

“You.”

At that, he looked up. “You have me.”

“All of you. Now.”

Involuntarily, his grip on her tightened. “Here? You’re sure?”

Inej’s smile was positively wicked.

Without saying another word, she lowered to her knees—straddling his thighs. Kaz leant forward and kissed the hollow of her throat; his hands smoothed over her waist as he mouthed at the flutter of her pulse.

Distantly, he knew how vulnerable they were like this. It’d been a while since his life had been truly in danger but the risk never really went away. Here, now, enveloped in the girl of his dreams—his senses entirely overrun by her—he was anyone’s for the taking. Kaz doubted even Pekka Rollins walking into the studio could distract him from the taste, the strength, the warmth of her.

The thought barely had time to form before Inej was pulling at the buttons of his trousers with deft hands. Kaz grumbled in protest as she moved away from him to which, she only raised an eyebrow. Soon enough, though, she was back in his arms and he a garment or two poorer.

The feel of her, gloriously naked, took his breath away and Kaz paused a moment just to revel in it. Trailing his fingertips over the dip of her spine, tracing where he knew her scars were, before taking a hold of her braid. With practiced ease, he unravelled it and sank his fingers into the silken fall of her hair, holding her closer.

This he’d come to think of as impossible, perhaps the only thing Dirtyhands had ever considered impossible—her bare skin against his. He should have known he’d one day crack this too.

Over him, Inej was carding her fingers through his own hair and tugging on his earlobe with her teeth. When she reached down between them and took him in hand, Kaz groaned against her sternum.

Women, Kaz had learned, were complicated creatures—mechanically speaking. It took most of his attention and all his lock-picks dexterity to bring Inej to climax. He, on the other hand, was simple. Inej brought him fully to attention with a few firm strokes and notched his tip to her welcome heat.

They did not kiss as she took him in one slow slide. He cupped the back of her neck, letting his head rest against her cheek, and Inej wrapped her arms around his shoulders. They held each other, unmoving, for three long breaths.

He remembered as if it were yesterday, the first time they had done this. The slight tremor in Inej’s hands as she’d guided him to her, the vulnerability shining in her eyes as he’d slid home. He may never understand why she trusted him so, but he prayed to saints he barely believed in that he would never be so foolish as to break it.

“I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you,” she answered.

With a roll of her hips, she quickened his breath and stole his composure—a thief in the night. Kaz settled his hands on her hips and watched as she tipped her head back without ceasing that steady rolling motion. It made him think of the ocean. There was nothing like it, like the sweet depths of her.

After his earlier attentions, the sound of their bodies meeting was wet, slippery with their combined arousal. It mingled too with the heady base of the music and their murmured encouragements.

Their kisses lost all semblance of form and when he tasted the salt off her neck he thought again of the ocean. The comparisons didn’t end there. Many a fool had tried to conquer her but only those who humbled themselves in light of her strength and her unfailing insistence on life, ever got the pleasure of knowing her. The thief in him hissed his warnings, others will come for her, come to take her. But Kaz Brekker, having pulled himself together into some semblance of man, knew better. No one could take her because Inej was not for the taking.

All this and more passed through his mind as he held her to him, as he watched her brows furrow and her mouth fall open on a moan. Inej reached back and flattened her palms against the vinyl floor and Kaz almost growled at the way she tightened around him. From this angle, he had an unobstructed view of the way she clung to him every time she lifted her hips, the way he spread her open and filled her up. The sight made his cock ache, put him at the very precipice of completion.

Reaching out, Kaz pressed his thumb to her clit and stroked her in time with her movements. The broken plea that fell from her lips was sweeter than sin, richer than the fattest Kerch banker. “Oh—” Inej moaned, low and long. “Oh, Kaz, don’t—uh, don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He had meant it to come out light and easy. It came out through his gritted teeth, on a wave of pleasure so acute he felt it in his toes.

Inej clenched around him, the movement of her hips faltering as she ground down and rode her climax through several, shivering aftershocks. The sight of her coming undone almost finished him off too. Almost.

There would be time enough for that still, he was sure. First, Kaz wanted to see her open her eyes, which she’d mashed shut at the height of her pleasure.

Inej hummed and batted his hand away, before placing her own on his taught and sweaty stomach. She rolled her hips and blinked at him. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is spectacular.” When Kaz reached out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, she leaned into his touch. She was breathing heavily, sweat dampening the soft hairs on her cheek and her eyes were obsidian pools beneath inky lashes. Kaz had never seen anyone so beautiful. “You are spectacular.”

“Kaz Brekker,” she laughed. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You have a reputation to uphold.”

“You’re right. I am Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel. I am a liar and a thief and a thug. But none of that changes the fact that you are spectacular, Inej Ghafa. Your association with me puts you in some degree of jeopardy, I’ll allow. Perhaps, you’d like to reconsider our arrangement?”

Kaz had grown fond of their tendency to frame the relationship in the terms of trade—it struck him as sardonically Kerch. And business was his wheelhouse after all. Their relationship wasn’t quite so transactional but it had helped him understand her, and them together, to think of collaboration and collusion and partnership. In this, he learned early on that vulnerability would be his lever. It was perhaps the only thing she ever explicitly asked him for—except time.

If he were being honest with himself, which he generally avoided at all cost, he would admit he also asked these questions to get her to answer them the way he now knew she would answer them.

“Who do you think you’re talking too? I helped you build that reputation.” Inej kissed him as she said this—soft and quick. He knew that she knew why he asked these questions. The soft underbelly of his otherwise armoured exterior, a fear of rejection and abandonment that ran so deep it affected every relationship he’d ever had. “I’m your Wraith. You’d do well to remember that.”

“As if I could ever forget.” Slowly and without pulling, Kaz wrapped one hand in her hair and the other around her hip, urging her to continue moving. The grip of her sex was exquisite, pleasurable almost to the point of pain. “My darling Inej, treasure of my heart.”

There was a time he had said those words in jest, had wrapped his feelings in so many layers of irony neither he nor anyone else knew how to begin unravelling them. Now though, now he spoke them in earnest.

Inej hummed in return. She anchored herself with a hand at his neck and rose on her knees.

It was at times like these Kaz thanked Ghezen he’d suggested to Inej she begin dancing again. As if the music took root in her marrow, she rolled her hips to its undulating beat. Rising and falling, tireless as the sea.

By then, his breath was coming in ragged pants and he knew a flush was creeping up his chest. A deep, sinful ache was coiling low in his gut, threatening on the very brink. Momentarily, he was distracted by a bead of sweat rolling down Inej’s neck, between the valley of her breasts and over the scarred slope of her belly. Kaz’s grip on her tightened. He was not ready for it to be over. By gripping her, he thought to hold himself back, draw this moment out.

She would have none of it. Inej was determined to wring his pleasure from him, one way or another.

The roll of her hips sped up until she was taking him fast and deep over and over and over again. Everything in him tightened.

He knew it was over when she moaned his name. The unguarded longing, the honey-drenched pleasure of her voice sent him careening off the edge and he spent himself inside her.

“Fuck—” His climax put stars in his eyes.

Over the dull roar of his pulse, Kaz heard Inej laugh. It was a quiet, breathy sound made into the hollow of his throat.

By the grip he still had on her hair, he got her to look at him and when she did the light in her eyes took what remained of his breath away. The girl of my dreams, he thought.

“What are you laughing about, my love?”

“I don’t know,” she said, still smiling. “I’m just happy.”

“Just happy?” Kaz cupped the back of her neck. “I think I can live with that.”

They debated getting the bus for all of five minutes before Kaz convinced Inej to walk home instead. It wasn’t far, he insisted.

Though the night was cold, Kaz was too distracted by how red the very tip of Inej’s nose had become to notice. And as she spoke about her day, eyes glowing and breath misting in the frigid night air, Kaz realised he could be happy—truly happy—with this, with her for the rest of his life.

We’ll be kings and queens, he’d once promised. As if he needed money and power and things to be happy. As if she didn’t make a king of him with every smile, every shared joke and rolled eye. Before he could stop himself, he cocked his head to the side—thinking.

“Kaz?” Inej was squinting up at him as she snapped him out of his reverie. “Is that… Is that scheming face?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, shaking his head. “I think the cold’s going to your head.”

Her answering laugh bounced off the pastel facades and down the canals, chasing them all the way home.

~*~*~

tagssss: @anonniemousefics @haajjr @gedankenvoll @kanejfics @annejulianneh111 @wraithdreams @fullsketchfood (tagging peeps who might be interested)

153 notes · View notes