#could just be the inbox ghost I guess.

[snatcher-no-snatching]

can people I have blocked still interact?? i've been getting ghost notifs all day

[piastriprincess]

wrapped  around  your  finger ⸻  alex  albon  x  reader  .

featuring  alex  albon  ,  established  relationship  ,  disgusting  tooth  rotting  fluff  word  count  0.8k author’s  note  requested  by  anon  forever  ago  but  i  just  got  inspired  for it today  !!  ALEX  ALBON  P5  oh  the  man  that  you  are  …  i’m  a  mclaren  enjoyer  but  if  we  don’t  get  albodium  this  season  i  WILL  riot  .  this  is  a  bit  short  and  frankly  very  random  but  i  was  having  brainrot  about  cuddling  with  alex  and  saw  the  albon_pets  story  which  just  made  me  laugh  and  inspired  a  tiny  bit  of  the  fic  .  i  hope  you  enjoy  it  ,  anon  !  as  always  come  tell  me  what  you  think  and  my  inbox  is  always  open  for  requests  !  title  is  from  linger  by  the  cranberries  .

“Okay. What am I drawing now?”

You trace your finger deliberately against the side of Alex’s arm. You’re in the hotel bed in Imola; you flew in just a few hours before, after your boyfriend mumbled through the phone after qualifying that he missed you very much and would like you to come to the race please, if you could. He’s been clingy all evening since you got to Italy, now holding your back flush against his chest in the bed, arms wrapped around your waist. You like that he always presses his arms tight against yours, like he’s not just spooning you but actively hugging you closer.

There’s silence, for a moment. Even though you’re facing away from him, you can picture his face, the way his bottom lip is probably caught between his teeth, the way his eyebrows furrow when he’s concentrating. “A cat?”

“Be more specific,” you say, smiling. 

He sighs lightly into your hair, his grip around you settling just a little tighter. “You’re expecting me to guess one of the cats based on your invisible drawing on my bicep?”

“They’re your children, you should know them by touch.” 

“Fine, okay — do it again,” he says, and you try not to laugh at the appearance of his familiar competitive streak, exactly like you knew would happen when you started this little game. Still, you oblige, dragging your finger over his skin again and watching as it leaves goosebumps in its wake. “Horsey,” he says confidently. “Definitely Horsey.”

You shake your head, hiss through your teeth like a disappointed game show host. “It was Moomoo.”

“That felt nothing like Moomoo,” he protests, and you just laugh. “Are you having me on, love? Barely felt like a cat, honestly — it’d be a bit of a funny-looking thing.” 

“Well…” you say, trailing off, and Alex gasps. 

“How very dare you. Moomoo is a handsome boy,” your boyfriend says haughtily. He gives an exaggerated gulp like he’s shocked at your audacity to suggest otherwise, but you know better. Really it’s just because he knows you hate the feeling of his adam's apple bobbing against the back of your head. 

“Alex, ew, stop, it feels so weird!” you whine, squirming away from his grip, but he holds you firm against him, arms lean and strong around yours. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says lightly, doing it again. “And if you keep wiggling around it’s going to be something very different rubbing against you.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles. “I’m scandalized, Albon.”

“It’s scandalous business,” he replies, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Tread carefully.”

You snuggle in closer, cherishing the proximity after being apart for the week. There’s a yawn creeping into the edges of your voice when you speak again. “I’ll be sure to watch my step. Your turn. I’ll close my eyes, you draw.”

“If you close your eyes, you’re going to fall asleep, love,” Alex murmurs, his hand ghosting gently up and down your side in a soothing sort of motion.  

“I won’t,” you lie. You can feel the exhaustion overtaking your body, but you want the time with him more. “Promise. I’ll stay up until you go to sleep. Now draw.”

“Bossy,” he huffs, but there’s no heat behind it. There’s a pause, and then his fingertip drags slowly across your forearm. It’s delicate, precise, like he’s trying to make sure you get it right without disturbing you too much. 

You hum, trying to picture the soft touches in your mind’s eye. “Is it… a star?”

“No.”

“Then it’s a really lopsided version of the track tomorrow.”

Alex laughs, low and warm in your ear. “It’s a heart.”

“Might need to take some art classes, baby,” you tease, though you can feel your cheeks heating up even in the dark, cool room. 

“Hey, my canvas was moving,” he says, squeezing your arm as if to emphasize his terrible conditions. “And I was distracted.”

You crack one eye open at that, tilt your head back towards him even though you can’t see him. “Distracted by what?”

He shifts slightly, like he’s trying to be closer to you even though he’s basically wrapped around you by this point. When he speaks, his voice is achingly soft, almost shy. “By how happy I am you’re here.”

The sudden sincerity makes something warm bloom in your chest. You’re quiet for a beat, finding his hand in the darkness and intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m happy I’m here too,” you whisper. “Even if your drawing skills are questionable.”

“Rude,” Alex mumbles into your hair, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Poured my soul into that drawing, didn’t I?”

You laugh, tired and utterly content as your eyes flutter shut again. “I lied earlier. I think I’m falling asleep.”

“I know, love,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Okay,” you say quietly, squeezing his hand once before you let go. “Love you.”

You don’t hear his reply. You feel it, as sleep starts to drag you under. 

Alex’s finger tracing across your forearm. L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-M-O-R-E.

[thef1diary]

🐎 new nonnie here

What if the reader discovers an old photograph of ghost!max and she started to touch herself at the photographand ghost!max was watching 🤭

— hi nonnie! Welcome welcome, hope to see you drop more filth in my inbox soon since this idea had me reeling for a while, holy fuckkk 😵‍💫 18+ content below

The attic was almost suffocating, its air thick with dust and the scent of aged wood. You hadn’t intended to stay long, just long enough to see if there was anything worth saving among the forgotten relics. Most of it seemed unremarkable—tattered books, dusty bookshelves and old trunks that were filled with items you didn’t have the energy to sort through just yet. But then you found it, tucked under a heavy cloth that caught your attention for reasons you couldn’t explain.

Your fingers trembled as you pulled the fabric away, uncovering an ornate frame, gilded in a way that spoke of another era. Your breath hitched once you spotted the engraving, your pulse quickening as you read the name etched in bold letters at the base: Max Verstappen.

You hadn’t known what to expect beneath the cloth, but it wasn’t this. The photograph beneath the glass was still crisp, almost haunting in its clarity. You sucked in a breath as you took him in—standing beside a sleek Formula 1 car. His race suit was unzipped, resting on his hips while the fireproofs stretched tightly across his body, showcasing his athletic build. His hair was a bit disheveled, as though he’d just pulled off his helmet, and his expression was pure arrogance, the smirk tugging at his lips sharp enough to cut.

But it was his eyes that held you captive. Blue and impossibly vivid. You’d never pictured them when you’d met him as a ghost; the faint outline of his presence had never given you such details. Yet now, staring into the photograph, they were unforgettable, piercing through time and space as though he was staring directly at you.

Your fingers brushed over the glass, tracing the curve of his jaw, the line of his smirk. A warmth spread through you, pooling low in your belly as you imagined what he must have been like in life—cocky, confident, utterly magnetic.

“Guess I always had a feeling you’d be hot, but not this hot,” you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips.

Your gaze lingered on the photograph, forgetting about the reason behind your attic visit as you felt the heat of arousal curl through you. The longer you stared, the harder it was to resist the pull of him, the fantasy that began to unfold in your mind. He was beautiful in a way that shouldn’t have been fair, and you cannot believe you hadn’t gotten a chance to see him, to feel him when he was alive.

Before you could think better of it, your hand slid beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers seeking the ache building between your thighs. You circled your clit slowly, your breaths growing heavier as your gaze remained locked on his image.

“Max,” you whispered, a plea as you slipped a finger inside yourself, imagining it was him. You could’ve called him, could’ve felt his ghostly fingers bring you over the edge just like you wanted. But you didn’t. No, this moment was for you and Max—the “real” photographed Max. You pictured how he’d smirk and how he’d look down at you as he took you apart.

The room grew colder, a chill that prickled your skin, but you didn’t notice. You were too far gone, too caught up in the way your body responded to your own touch, your mind lost in the fantasy of Max’s physical presence.

What you didn’t see was the faint outline that formed in the corner of the room, the way the air shifted subtly, charged with energy. He was there, watching. Silent, still, his gaze fixed on you as you writhed on the floor of the attic, your fingers thrusting inside yourself, your breathy moans filling the space.

He didn’t speak—he couldn’t. The spirit box you used to communicate with him was downstairs, forgotten. But he didn’t need words. His presence was tangible, even if you hadn’t noticed him.

Your movements grew frantic, your free hand clutching the frame of the photograph as though grounding yourself in the image of him. Your thumb brushed his engraved name again, a whispered, “Max,” falling from your lips as you teetered on the edge.

He watched as your body arched, as your cries filled the room, your orgasm washing over you in trembling waves. His outline flickered in the corner of the room, the air crackling faintly with unspoken energy, as though he was responding to your pleasure in the only way he could.

When your breathing finally slowed, your hand fell away, trembling with the aftershocks. You glanced at the photograph one last time, searing Max’s blue eyes into your memory for when you feel his ghostly presence again.

Even as the waves of satisfaction ebbed, leaving your body warm and languid, an ache remained—a deeper, sharper yearning that settled in your chest, because now that you knew what he looked like, you knew you could never truly sate the hollow ache of never having met him, never feeling the heat of his flesh against yours.

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[quarterlifekitty]

pookie, guess who’s back in your inbox🎀✨

do you have any weakness post thoughts on a reader with a sore chest? like, as a period symptom or just in general sometimes (woe, the back pain too)? hugs and kisses, hope you have a tasty treat or snack, mwah

Anything for you boo boo

So, the original thesis of the weaknesses series was that it would be about what they’re weak to! This doesn’t exactly fit, so I’m just gonna have it as a separate thing!!

Gaz- we’ve spoken of this man’s affinity for massages. You know what this sounds like? A problem that could be solved with a massage. Brother is pulling out his oils as we speak. Lay down, babe, your man can handle this. And my god does he handle it.

Soap is also going to offer the massage route. Do not believe him. He, himself, thinks that his offer is a genuine one, but the most dangerous lies are the ones the speaker themself believes. What I mean is that he’s going to get distracted and hard after having his hands are on your tits and the progress will be basically net zero.

Ghost is a chronic pain man in my heart. And he’s tried everything. So if you have any pain whatsoever he’s revealing to you that the entire cabinet beneath the bathroom sink is entirely pain treatment shit. Lotions, ointments, painkillers, compression gear, hot and cold packs, herbal medicine, fucking crystals— he’s got it. And now this empire is yours as well!

Price is doing what you expect. Offering massages, offering to go to the store and pick out your favorite treats for you, he’ll hang out with you while you lay down. But don’t be fooled. He is 100% thinking about what it’s gonna be like when you’re pregnant. This is his practice run.

König is thinking of what to say to you and how to say it for like ten minutes of complete silence. “I could, you know— hold them. For you.” Not this man with his big fucking hands offering to be your bra!! And yes. He is going to treat your tits like stress toys— inadvertently giving you a massage and helping.

Nikolai is also gonna be your bra, but with about 1000 times more restraint. He’s just going to hold you. Give you support. Let you feel his chest compress and relax as you lay against him. He’s also gonna be giving you types of ibuprofen that aren’t even legal in some countries.

[amagialp]

heya!! hope you’re doing good! i loveddd the piercings request and thought id raise you: simon, konig, and johnny’s reactions to your new tattoo! specifically a lower back tattoo (may or may not be influenced by the fact that i just got tramp stamp last week) 🫣 my fiance is obsessed with it if u know what i mean :3

HII sorry for late reply i was on a short hiatsu! but i love this idea and thank you for blessing my inbox with it❤️

(requests open, and also MINORS DNI, GRAMMARLY USED)

Johnny

The first time Johnny sees it, he's immediately on you. A low whistle, hands gripping your waist, thumbs brushing over the ink like he’s memorizing it.

"Ohh, now what’s this, sweetheart? Didn’t tell me you went and got something so filthy on that pretty skin of yours."

His voice is all teasing, but his grip tightens when you move, keeping you right where he wants you. Before you know it, he’s on his knees behind you, dragging your waistband lower, pressing hot kisses to the space just beneath it.

"This is gonna be my favorite spot," he murmurs against your skin, voice low and reverent. "Gonna make sure you remember that."

König

König doesn’t say much at first. Just lets those huge hands of his ghost over your back, tracing the ink with a silent fascination. But when he finally speaks, it’s thick with something possessive.

"You let someone mark you here?" His fingers press, just enough for you to feel the heat of them. "Right where I hold you down? Right where I bend you over?"

It drives him mad. He gets fixated, tugging up your shirt at any given moment just to look at it, running his tongue along the ink when he’s got you bare beneath him. When he finally loses himself, he makes sure you feel every inch of him press against that sensitive spot, making you associate the sting of the tattoo with the pleasure he drowns you in.

Ghost

Ghost doesn’t react at first, just stares, dark eyes locked onto your lower back like he’s committing it to memory. His gloved fingers brush over the ink, slow and deliberate, tracing the edges with a kind of reverence that sends a shiver up your spine.

"Didn’t think you could get any prettier," he murmurs, voice rough, almost strained. "Guess I was wrong."

And then he’s on you...a firm grip at your hips, his mouth hot against the ink, tongue tracing the fresh lines like he’s tasting the mark. He doesn’t just look, he claims, dragging you into his lap, making sure you feel how much he likes it. When he finally pulls back, lips swollen from the attention he’s lavished on your skin, his gaze flicks up to yours, dark and heavy.

He exhales sharply, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s grounding himself. "Hope you know what you’ve done, love. ‘Cause now I’ll never stop touching it."

HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS IM OPEN FOR MORE SIMILAR ETC JS HOP ON INTO MY INBOX!:p

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

Hi, just curious. What's your 10 or 20 fave BL kisses from bl series/dramas/web series you've watched or are watching, if you have any?

Hey Anon,

I don't know if you remember this ask, it has been sitting in my inbox for a while now. Sorry for the late reply!

And of course I have favorite kisses. I love a good kiss. In my definition of a good kiss, it doesn't need to be the perfect angle or the perfect "lip-touching", I don't know, people rate such scenes differently. For me it is more about the emotions I could feel during that kiss, the build-up or if there is a special detail that really catches my breath. I guess you'll understand, what I mean when you see my choices.

This is not a ranking! It is in alphabetical order, not just because I don't want to rank them, but because I am lazy.

Bad Buddy

The iconic rooftop kiss. The whole build-up was perfect. The tears? The first short kiss followed by this gorgeous kiss filled with all the emotions one person can feel? What is not to like about this kiss!?

Be My Favorite

I was very protective of these two and especially Krist. People were saying, he can't kiss other man because he is homophobic and what is this then? Yes, I remember Sotus. The kisses were.. not good, but I gave Be My Favorite a chance and this kiss was so soft and so full of love and tenderness. I really enjoyed this whole scene a lot! And Kris can kiss.

Boys Be Brave!

This kiss came as a big surprise for me. It is Jinwoo trying to hide from Kisub and the letter finding him what leads to this quiet and beautiful first kiss. I loved everything about it!

Ghost Host, Ghost House

All of there kisses were so good! But I loved the teasing and the chasing in this scene especially. Those two have incredible good chemistry and I wish we could see more of them.

History 3: Make Our Days Count

Oh the desperation for each other was so real in this one. Both wanted each other so bad! But what I loved the most about this whole scene was the way how Sun Bo Xiang reassured Lu Zhi Gang that he desired all of him. So good!

I Feel You Linger In The Air

The most painful and saddest kiss in bl-history! It is such a wonderful scene. Everything about it made me cry and smile at the same time. Gorgeous scene!

Jack and Joker

They finally confessed and kissed for the first time. And what a kiss this was! It left the most of us speechless and a little bit breathless. The way Jack stopped the kiss in the middle to calm Joke down a little bit and they started the kiss again so fucking tender and argh! I love it so much!!!

Love Class 2

Love Class 2 has some really good kisses, but this one was something else! It is one of the softest kisses ever. I don't know how many times I have rewatched this whole scene. Just look at them. You can feel the softness of this kiss! And there were sounds during that scene... they were something else.

Love For Love's Sake

I really didn't expect that kiss at the end of this series. I hoped for a tight hug, but hello? Those two and the script kept delivering until the very end. This was pure perfection.

Love Mechanics

Yeah, well... perhaps I am just a sucker for YinWar kissing... I don't know. But every time I see this kiss I want to live in this scene forever and I would be perfectly fine. I am just sitting here, wanting to write about this kiss and I stared at it for an unhealthy period of time and forgot everything else. That is really bad. I love that kiss so much!

My Stand-In

They had some good kisses. This was not one of them, but this specific moment, when Joe gave in to the kiss, I was blown away. He really didn't want to like this kiss, but his heart still wanted it. The emotions!

My Tooth Your Love

Every once in a while there are these cute and small kisses, so ordinary and overlooked. I think these are very important to portrait a good and real relationship. Because kisses don't need to be these big moments in slow-motion and with different angles. Yes, those are nice, but I really adore those "small" ones that show the love between the characters.

Perfect Propose

The reason I picked this scene is because of the build-up. Hirokuni asked Kai not to call him Hiro, but Kai just ignored him and breathed Hiro and followed with this passionate kiss and I was just in awe.

Sing My Crush

I was absolutely not expecting this kiss! I thought we got this dead-fish-kiss and that would be it. I would have love the series nevertheless, but this scene? Damn, Korea! Such a good kiss!

The Heart Killers

I don't think those two are the best kissers in the industry. I think they have some good chemistry without a doubt. But this kiss. This moment here. It was everything for me. I can feel Style's hand on Fadel's head. I can feel it. And I love it! I am not normal about this scene! Everything about these few seconds brings me so much joy. The look on Fadel's face, the hand and everything that happend before and followed afterwards.

The Day I Loved You

This is still one of my favorite rooftop-kisses. For me it is the way they grab each other to pull the other one close. The way they want to crawl into each other, to feel the other person everywhere. Such a perfect first kiss! Such a perfect scene.

To My Star 2

I love these small kisses. I name them "A thousand little kisses". Those kisses make me smile and so happy! There is nothing more to say about it. I love them. To My Star is just an example for many other shows out there with these little kisses.

Unknown

I loved this whole scene. But this segment of the kiss, this little dance of them, is so good. I can't tell you how many times I just watched this specific scene. How easy Yuan maneuvered Qian around to close the door. How they kept kissing. I... I... nope. There are no words in my head anymore.

Well, these are a few of my favorite kisses. There are more, but I guess this list is long enough. I hope you like my little selection :) I wish you a wonderful day!

[trippiexlove]

Echoes of Us -Ch. 1

Main Master List

Story Master List - If you haven't read the prologue I suggest you read it before reading this.

ENJOY!!! ♡

Amani traced the rim of her sparkling water glass, listening to the familiar clatter of forks against plates and the low hum of lunchtime chatter around them. The midday sun streamed through the panoramic windows of The Bistro Box, painting warm stripes across their table.

"Seriously, Mani, you're just going to sit there looking like you swallowed a lemon?" Tameka chuckled, nudging her with an elbow. Amani offered a weak smile, pushing around the salad on her plate.

"I’m just not feeling it today, I was in a long meeting this morning" she hedged, though her friends knew her too well.

Shawna, ever the more direct of the two, leaned forward, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. "Guess what just popped up in my inbox?"

Amani frowned. "Another work happy hour?"

Shawna shook her head, pulling out her phone. "Our 20-year high school reunion. Can you believe it's been that long?"

Amani's fork clattered softly against her plate. Twenty years. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken memories. She instinctively tensed. "Already? Damn, time flies. Y'all going, right?" She tried to sound casual, but her voice was a little too thin.

"You already know," Tameka exclaimed, her enthusiasm practically bouncing off the walls. "it'll be fun. Seeing everyone, reminiscing on the good days."

"Exactly," Shawna chimed in, "And we already decided. We all going, which means you going too, Amani. No arguments."

Amani sighed, pushing her plate away. The thought of revisiting those years, even just for a night, made her stomach clench. It wasn't just the awkward small talk she dreaded. It was the ghosts. One ghost, in particular.

"Come on, Mani," Tameka coaxed gently, sensing her hesitation. "It's just one night. A chance to catch up with everyone."

"And maybe," Shawna added, her voice dropping conspiratorially, "a certain someone will be there. Aren't you even a little curious about seeing Josh again?"

The name hung in the air, a silent bombshell. Amani's gaze darted between her two friends, a blush creeping up her neck. She hated how easily they could still read her, how they knew exactly what to say to hit a nerve. Her carefully constructed walls, built over two decades, felt suddenly flimsy. She was curious. More than she cared to admit. A part of her, deep down, had never truly moved on from the boy with the infectious smile and the kind eyes.

She bit her lip, knowing full well that if she said no, they'd simply double down. Besides, the flicker of curiosity Shawna had ignited was now a small, persistent flame.

"Fine," Amani relented, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. "But if it's boring, I'm blaming you two."

Tameka and Shawna cheered, high-fiving across the table. Amani watched them, a nervous flutter in her chest. She had agreed. And for the first time in a long time, the prospect of seeing Josh again felt less like a distant nightmare and more like an impending reality she couldn't outrun.

The scent of perfume and nervous energy hung thick in the air of Amani’s spacious bathroom. Clothes lay discarded on the plush bed, and the rhythmic hum of a flat iron punctuated Tameka and Shawna’s easy banter. Amani, however, stood frozen before the full-length mirror, meticulously adjusting the strap of her dress for the fifth time. Her reflection stared back, a sleek, confident woman in a deep emerald green, but her stomach churned with the anxiety of her eighteen-year-old self.

"Mani, you look good," Tameka said, applying a final swipe of lip gloss. "That dress was the right call."

"Yeah, you look good as fuck," Shawna agreed, popping her hip. "What's with the face?"

Amani forced a smile. "Just nerves, I guess. It's just been a while."

Shawna walked over, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. "Hey, maybe he won't even show up."

Amani shrugged, trying to project indifference. "You're probably right. Either way, I'm there to have fun with y'all." The words felt a little forced even to her own ears, but she hoped her friends would buy it. They gave her a look that suggested they saw right through her, but thankfully, they didn't push.

The air outside the Grand Ballroom at The Marquee was already buzzing with anticipation when they pulled up. The parking lot was packed, spilling cars onto the adjacent streets. Amani took a deep breath, pushing down the familiar anxiety. She was Amani Wilson, HR Director, not the shy girl who used to stay quiet so she won't get noticed.

Inside, the ballroom was a kaleidoscope of familiar faces, the sounds of laughter and loud music. The DJ was already spinning old-school R&B from their time in high school, and a few brave souls were already attempting dance moves that had definitely not aged well.

"First stop, the bar" Tameka declared, grabbing Amani's hand and pulling her through the throng. Shawna was right on their heels. They elbowed their way to the front, ordering a round of Tequila shots that burned a welcome path down Amani's throat. The warmth spread, loosening some of the knots in her shoulders.

With a shot of liquid courage in her system, Amani felt her guard drop a notch. They navigated the room, stopping to chat with former classmates she hadn't seen in years. There was Mark, still telling terrible jokes; Sera, who looked exactly the same; and even a few of their old cheerleading squad members, who immediately launched into animated discussions about forgotten routines. The memories, once painful, now felt distant, almost nostalgic.

She found herself laughing genuinely, the old high school anxieties momentarily forgotten. She was alone for a moment, grabbing another drink, when a syrupy voice cut through the buzz.

"Well, well, if it isn't Amani Wilson."

Amani turned to find Kelsey standing beside her, a tight smile plastered on her perfectly made-up face. Kelsey, the girl who had always resented Amani for dating Josh, her jealousy a thinly veiled venom throughout high school.

"Kelsey. It's been a while," Amani replied, her tone cool but polite. "How have you been?"

"Oh, life has just been just great. Married, two gorgeous kids, living in Miami," Kelsey purred, her eyes raking over Amani, clearly assessing her. "Heard you are an HR Director? How cute. Still single, I see." Her eyes flickered to the empty spot on her ring finger. "Not everyone gets their fairy tale, do they?"

Amani's jaw tightened. She took a slow sip of her drink. "I'm doing perfectly fine, thank you. Enjoy the reunion, Kelsey." Without waiting for a reply, Amani turned on her heel, melting into the crowd, her easygoing mood instantly soured. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

She was still trying to put some distance between herself and Kelsey when a large hand gently touched her elbow.

"Mani? Is that really you?"

Amani spun around, her eyes widening. Standing before her, a familiar hopeful glint in his eyes, was Darius. Josh’s old football teammate, and the source of more than a few arguments between her and Josh back in the day.

Darius’s smile was wide and genuine, a stark contrast to Kelsey’s forced pleasantries. He still had that boyish charm, though his frame was broader now, clearly still hitting the gym.

Amani felt a faint blush creep up her cheeks. "Darius! How you been? It's been ages. You look great."

"And you," he said, his gaze lingering. "You were beautiful in high school, but you're even more gorgeous now."

Amani felt the blush deepen, a small, almost forgotten sensation. "Thank you," she mumbled, her voice barely audible over the music.

"So, what you been up to? Still breaking hearts?" Darius chuckled, a familiar twinkle in his eye.

"You can say that," she let out a small laugh, "Just been taking it day by day. What bout you? How are you and Janine doing?"

He shook his head a bit, "We divorced a while ago".

Amani eyes softened at the news, "I'm sorry to hear that"

He waved her off, "Nah, it's all good. We just didn't work out."

They fell into a light, easy conversation, reminiscing about football games, school dances, and old teachers. It was a welcome distraction after the run-in with Kelsey, and Amani found herself relaxing, genuinely enjoying the walk down memory lane. Darius always had a way of making her feel seen, without making her feel exposed.

Just as Darius was launching into a story about a particularly their disastrous senior prank, a hand clamped around Amani's arm.

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Tameka’s voice was a little too loud, a little too frantic, despite her attempt to look cool. She pulled Amani away with surprising force, offering Darius a quick, apologetic smile over her shoulder.

"Everything okay?" Amani whispered as Tameka dragged her deeper into the crowd, her heart suddenly pounding with a new kind of anticipation. Tameka didn't answer right away, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for something – or someone.

"Just come with me," Tameka muttered, finally stopping in a slightly less congested corner. "I just saw Jon. And Joe." She paused, taking a quick, shallow breath. "And Josh is with them. They just walked in."

Amani's heart didn't just drop; it plummeted, taking her breath with it. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the music fading into a dull thrum in her ears. Twenty years of carefully constructed distance, twenty years of telling herself she was over it, over him, threatened to crumble in an instant.

Just then, Shawna appeared at her side, her brow furrowed with concern. "Mani? Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Amani tried to speak, but no words came. Her throat felt tight, constricted. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Tameka's face, couldn't quite process the full weight of what she'd just heard.

Then, slowly, almost against her will, she turned.

Across the crowded ballroom, near a cluster of old football teammates, stood a man whose broad shoulders seemed to command the space around him. His tribal tattoos snaked up strong arms, and his dark, curly mullet was peppered with streaks of grey at the temples. He was laughing, head thrown back, then he turned, his gaze sweeping the room.

And then, their eyes met.

Josh.

The laughter died on his lips. His smile slowly faded. For a split second, the noise of the reunion, the decades that had passed, the hundreds of people between them, all ceased to exist. It was just Amani and Josh, locked in a silent, raw connection that felt both utterly impossible and entirely inevitable.

Amani was the first to break eye contact, her gaze snapping to her friends. Tameka and Shawna both wore identical expressions of concern, their eyes wide. "I'm fine," Amani managed, her voice a reedy whisper, breathy as if the wind had been knocked out of her.

"Good," Shawna said, her eyes shifting over Amani's shoulder. "Because he's walking over here."

Amani’s stomach dropped again. She didn't need to turn to know it was true; she could feel his presence, a magnetic pull drawing him closer. A familiar, woodsy scent, not overpowering but distinctly him, reached her nostrils even before she slowly turned back around to meet his gaze.

Josh stopped just a few feet from them, his eyes, still the same deep, dark pools she remembered, were fixed on her. He offered a quick, almost automatic nod to her friends. "Hey, Shawna. What's up Tameka."

"Hey, Josh," they murmured in unison.

His focus, however, immediately snapped back to Amani, a thousand unspoken questions in his stare. Sensing the sudden, heavy tension, Tameka nudged Shawna.

"We're just gonna go grab another drink," Tameka announced, her voice a little too bright. Shawna nodded vigorously, and they quickly melted into the crowd, not going far, just far enough to give Amani and Josh space while still keeping a watchful eye on their friend.

Amani and Josh stood there, the vibrant chaos of the reunion swirling around them, yet they were suspended in their own bubble of charged silence. It stretched, taut and thick with twenty years of unspoken history.

Finally, Josh broke it. His voice was a low rumble, laced with a familiar cadence that sent a shiver down Amani’s spine. "Damn, Amani Wilson." His eyes raked over her, a slow, appreciative journey from her hair to the hem of her dress, lingering for a moment. He absentmindedly licked his lips. Amani felt a rush of heat creep up her neck, a visceral response to his undeniable presence, even after all this time.

To cover the sudden fluster blooming inside her, she deliberately kept her voice even, almost monotone. "Joshua Fatu." She met his gaze, doing her own subtle assessment—the broad shoulders, the intricate tribal ink peeking from his sleeves, the subtle speckles of grey in his beard, the familiar curl of his mullet. He was undeniably still the boy she remembered, yet undeniably a man now.

Josh leaned back against the small bar table beside them, a casual pose that belied the intensity in his eyes. "I never thought I would see you again." He paused, the words hanging in the air, weighted. Then, softer, "How you been?"

Amani swallowed, trying to steady her racing pulse. "I've been good," she replied, keeping her voice as composed as possible, though inside she was doing anything but. "How about you?"

"Can't complain," he said, pushing off the table. "So, what'chu doing now? Still got that fierce ambition I remember?"

"Something like that," Amani said, a small, genuine smile touching her lips. "I'm an HR Director at Vanguard Tech." She added, almost as an afterthought, "Got the promotion about seven years ago."

Josh's eyes lit up with approval. "An HR Director, huh? That's big time, Mani. Knew you were always destined for something great."

Amani felt a warmth spread through her chest at his genuine praise. Out of kindness, and a flicker of genuine curiosity, she asked, "And you? What are you doing these days?"

He chuckled, a low, easy sound. "Jon, and Joe, we got into the family business. We in WWE."

Amani's eyes widened in genuine shock. "Y'all wrestle now? That's honestly not really that shocking. But I remember you were so set on going pro football."

Josh laughed, a full, unrestrained sound that made her stomach flutter. "Man, you still remember that." He shook his head, still smiling. "Guess we were always bound to get into the family business at some point." He winked, and Amani found herself laughing too, a sound she hadn't realized she was holding back. The tension, for a brief moment, eased, replaced by a comfortable familiarity.

Just as the last echoes of their shared laughter faded, the DJ’s speakers rumbled, filling the ballroom with the familiar, melancholic intro of a new song. Amani’s eyes widened a fraction. Her breath hitched.

Dilemma by Nelly and Kelly Rowland.

The melody, instantly recognizable, wrapped around her, pulling her back two decades. Every beat, every lyric, was a memory, a phantom touch, a whispered promise. It was their song. The one they’d slow danced to on Prom night. The night when everything changed for her. 

Josh turned to look at her, a slight tilt of his head, his expression softening as the song washed over them. He seemed to recognize it too, the way his gaze deepened, a nostalgic warmth blooming in his eyes. 

"Come dance with me," he asked, his voice low, almost a plea amidst the rising chorus.

Amani hesitated. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of warning. One dance. One touch. Could she handle it? The memories that song invoked were too raw, too close to the surface, too intertwined with the secret she held.

Seeing the flicker of apprehension in her eyes, Josh extended his hand to her, his palm open, an unspoken invitation. "Just one dance, that's it." His voice was reassuring, patient.

She looked at his outstretched hand, then back to his eyes, which held only a gentle yearning. The pull was too strong to resist. With a slow, almost imperceptible nod, Amani placed her hand in his. The warmth of his skin, the familiar feel of his large fingers closing around hers, sent a jolt through her, echoing a time when such a touch was as natural as breathing.

Josh led her onto the makeshift dance floor, already crowded with swaying couples. He pulled her gently into his arms, his hands finding the familiar curve of her waist. It was a possessive touch, one she remembered so vividly, and it settled over her like a phantom limb. They moved slowly, bodies close but not touching, the rhythm of the song guiding them. The lyrics, full of longing and regret, were a painful soundtrack to the memories flickering through Amani’s mind—Prom Night, the nervous excitement of their first intimacy.

They danced in silence for a long moment, the unspoken history between them a palpable third presence.

"Feels just like old times," Josh murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear. The song faded out a few moments later, leaving a lingering hum in the air.

When she finally pulled away, her gaze met his, and a tidal wave of emotions she’d meticulously locked away for two decades crashed over her. Grief, longing, regret, and a potent, undeniable pull she hadn't realized still existed. It was too much. The walls she'd built to protect herself threatened to crumble.

"It was nice seeing you," she said, her voice thin, almost a gasp. Before he could respond, she turned and moved quickly, almost a desperate flight, losing herself in the thick crowd. She didn't look back, but she could feel his eyes on her until she was swallowed by the masses.

Tameka and Shawna were not far behind, their faces etched with concern. They found her standing near an exit, breathing heavily. They didn't press, sensing the raw edge of Amani’s emotion. Instead, they exchanged a silent look and steered her towards a quieter part of the ballroom, letting her compose herself.

For the rest of the night, Amani kept her distance from Josh, moving purposefully around the perimeter of the room, avoiding direct lines of sight. She laughed with her friends, danced when pulled onto the floor, but a part of her remained hyper-aware of his presence, a low thrumming anxiety just beneath her skin.

On a quick trip to the restroom later, she bumped into a familiar face coming out of the men's room. Jon. His long hair was now styled in two neat straight-back braids, and his arms and the back of his neck were filled with the same intricate tribal ink as Josh. He spotted her, his big grin splitting his face wide.

"What's up, sis! Haven't seen yo' ass in a minute!" Jon exclaimed, pulling her into a tight, warm hug that lifted her slightly off her feet.

Amani chuckled, hugging him back with genuine affection. "It's good to see you too, Jon."

He pulled away, still grinning. "Man, yo' ass still as short as I remember, huh?"

Amani playfully rolled her eyes. "Oh, hush. You just got taller."

"Nah, you just compact," he teased, nudging her arm. "Aight, I'll see you around, Mani. Don't be a stranger."

"You too," she called back, a small smile on her face as she headed into the sanctuary of the ladies' room. The brief, easy interaction with Jon was a welcome, normal moment in a night that was anything but.

The night bled into a whirlwind of distant conversations and the thumping bass of the DJ. Amani kept her distance from Josh, the encounter on the dance floor having re-ignited feelings she wasn't ready to face. As the clock ticked past midnight, she made her goodbyes quickly, feeling a desperate need to escape the ballroom's suffocating atmosphere.

The drive back to Amani's house was mostly quiet, the hum of the engine and the soft strains of SZA from the radio filling the comfortable silence. Tameka, however, wasn't one to let things linger.

"So," Tameka started, her voice gentle, "you okay, Mani? Looked like y'all was having a moment."

Amani stared out the window at the passing streetlights, each one a blur. "I don't know how to feel," she admitted, the words barely a whisper. The truth was, she felt everything and nothing all at once. "it's all so confusing"

Shawna reached over from the backseat, patting Amani’s knee. "I know it was hard, seeing him. Especially after what happened..." Her voice trailed off, a shared understanding passing between the three of them, a silent acknowledgment of a past trauma the world didn't know. The car fell quiet again, the music now a soft, melancholic backdrop to Amani's turbulent thoughts.

They finally pulled into Amani's driveway, the familiar silhouette of her large house a welcome sight. The girls hugged tightly, a silent pact of support. Tameka and Shawna headed to their personal guest rooms, a testament to how often they stayed over. Amani went straight to her own room, the weight of the night settling on her shoulders with each step.

She moved through the motions of her nightly routine, the events of the reunion playing on a loop in her mind. Josh's eyes, his familiar scent, the warmth of his hand, the lyrics of Dilemma, his voice murmuring "Feels just like old times". The phantom possessive touch around her waist. It all spiraled, bringing with it a wave of nausea and a familiar, aching grief.

And then, she was twenty years younger, the memory as vivid as yesterday.

September 2003, NYU Campus Library

Amani hunched over her textbook, trying to focus on organic chemistry, but a dull ache in her lower abdomen had been growing all day. She’d tried to ignore it, to attribute the mild, persistent cramping to nerves or stress, but at three months pregnant, she knew better. Every now and then, a spasm would force her to clench her teeth, momentarily distracting her from her notes.

"You good, Mani?" Tameka asked, looking up from her own textbook. Shawna, across the table, also cast a concerned glance.

"Yeah, fine, just… some cramps," Amani mumbled, pressing a hand to her stomach, trying to sound more casual than she felt. But as the minutes ticked by, the cramps began to amp up, twisting and tightening into sharp, agonizing waves. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white.

"Nah Mani, something ain't right," Shawna said, her voice laced with worry, her eyes fixed on Amani's pale face. "You need to go to the hospital. Now."

Tameka nodded emphatically agreeing with Shawna. "Seriously, Mani. This ain't normal. I'll take you."

Amani hesitated, terrified, but another sharp, agonizing pang bent her over. "Okay, fine," she conceded, pushing her chair back.

As she stood up, a warm, wet gush shocked her. Her eyes widened, and then, with sickening dread, she looked down. A dark, alarming pool of blood bloomed on the chair she had just vacated, and a bright, angry red stain spread rapidly on her jeans.

"Oh my God," Tameka whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. Shawna gasped, her face draining of color.

Tears sprang to Amani's eyes, hot and immediate. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through her. She was crying now, silent sobs racking her body. Tameka, bless her, was quick, pulling off her cardigan and wrapping it around Amani's waist, trying to hide the spreading stain.

"Come on," Tameka urged, her voice trembling but firm. "We're going to the hospital. Now."

They practically dragged Amani out of the library, her legs feeling like lead, a dull ache throbbing in her core that was no longer just cramps. Tameka sped through the city streets, Shawna rubbing Amani's back as she huddled in the backseat, tears streaming down her face.

At the emergency room, the nurses took one look at the blood and ushered Amani back immediately. "Get her on a gurney!" someone yelled. "We'll take care of your friendTameka and Shawna were left in the stark, sterile waiting room, their faces pale with terror.

In the back, Amani was hooked up to monitors, the cold gel of the ultrasound wand pressed against her aching abdomen. Dr. Marshall, the on-call OBGYN, looked grim. Her words, delivered with a gentle, regretful tone, still echoed in Amani's memory, confirming her worse fear: "I'm so sorry, Amani. You're having an active miscarriage."

The world fractured. Amani closed her eyes, hot tears overflowing, her body trembling with a grief so profound it felt like a physical blow. The unspoken hope, the secret life she’d been carrying, shattered into a million pieces. She was an emotional wreck, completely numb and raw.

It felt like hours before the doctor came to get Tameka and Shawna. When they walked into the room, their eyes immediately went to Amani, lying silent and still on the exam table. They rushed to her side.

"Mani? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?" Shawna's voice was tight with apprehension.

Amani looked up at them, her eyes red-rimmed and brimming. She didn't need to say anything. The profound, heartbreaking silence in her gaze spoke volumes. Tears welled in Tameka and Shawna’s eyes as the realization dawned on them. They pulled her into a tight, desperate group hug, and in their embrace, the dam broke. Amani sobbed, the raw, guttural cries of a young woman losing a part of herself, a future she hadn't even dared to fully acknowledge.

Amani gasped, her eyes snapping open. Tears streamed silently down her face, the cold reality of her reflection in the mirror a stark contrast to the vivid pain of the memory. Twenty years. And it still felt as fresh, as devastating, as if it had happened yesterday.

She quickly wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, sniffling once before reaching for the silk bonnet on her dresser. She pulled it over her coils, a familiar nightly ritual that offered a small measure of comfort. Her body felt heavy, laden with the weight of both past and present emotions. Dragging herself to her bed, she collapsed onto the cool sheets, pulling the covers tight. Sleep, she hoped, would offer a temporary reprieve. She was out within minutes, the exhaustion of the night finally claiming her.

Ch.2

Here's my new baby! I am excited for this story and to see where it goes. I hope y'all enjoyed.

Leave your thoughts below. Any likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated. ♡ - Trips

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[tojisun]

i’m definitely just projecting but ghost and price are definitely the kinds of lovers that reader could just text asking of they’re busy/alone for no other reason than reader wanting to sit in their lap/burrow into their jackets

mhmm 🙂‍↕️

(i mean everyone in tf 141 is that kind of lover tbh. but i guess i see what you mean — the question is weighted when it comes to simon or price, like you’re deliberately asking for permission because while they have never pushed you away or stopped indulging you, there is that tension in which that they could.

because unlike the both of them, kyle is so easy to get along with — a push and pull of banter; he’ll jokingly say that yes he’s too busy actually, and you’ll whine in his inbox, spam messaging an assortment of “whyyy” or “pleaasee !!!! >:(” until he ‘gives in’ (he says this like he has not been waiting, all buzzing energy until you’re finally melting into him, cheek to cheek, his hand on the small of your back, yours fisting at his shirt).

while johnny is direct; there’s no preamble in his replies because he’s just as clingy and just as desperate to be with you — the tease comes in later; “missed me much, didn’t ye, bonnie?” is purred into your ear when you’re finally in his arms and he could ensure that you won’t leave, not with how he’s got his thick arms wrapped around your waist, anyway.

but not price and simon.

you’re genuinely seeking permission when you send them that message. seeking validation. you’re all wired up, tensed and anxious, so much so that you’ve began biting your lip or playing with your hangnails as you wait for a reply, before surging up when the notification finally comes.

john loves it when you burrow in his jacket, cheek smooshed on his chest, eyes close as you match his breaths. while simon loves it when you’re both pressed flushed — pelvis to pelvis, your front to his, and your chin hooked on his shoulder.)

[imaginesmai]

Right around the corner - Azriel (5)

AHHHHH this is the final part and let me tell you I'm SAD. It was so hard to write the ending you all deserve after all this love, so I tried my best. Let me know what you think! Also, you deserve A LOT, so I made it long hehehe. Don't worry, a request about the RATH universe is coming soon! If you want one too, drop it in my inbox!

(1), (2), (3), (4)

Plot: The story of how Azriel fixed what was broken, and how you forgave him.

Warnings: this is sad, but has a happy ending! Also, mental health issues.

No one expected the sidra to froze that year, and against everyone expectation, one day Velaris had woken up to see the riven covered by a silver layer. Children had missed school to skate in the solid surface, parents watching carefully from the edge. Some couples were skating too, holding hands and giggling endlessly.

You had been watching the new scene unfold all morning. And while you usually loved snow and ice as much as any child in town, you were starting to get a little sick of all the noise.

It wasn’t your new employee situation, who had been staring at the river all morning. She had already finished her duties, but always the polite and nice girl, Elain Archeron was keeping you company.

When you spotted for the third time the familiar red-head through the glass and she didn’t say anything, just sighed, you decided you had enough.

“You should tell him to get in before he freezes to death” you commented, still busy with measuring the ingredients.

“Oh, no” Elain blushed and looked away from the window. “No. He’s just… He can wait”

“He can, but doesn’t have to. You and Lucien should head out, rent ice skates and have a fun day. You already finished here” you smiled kindly at her, and before she could reply, you added. “I’m fine, I don’t even like cold weather. And I still need to finish this, which you can’t help me with. So, go”

Elain stared at you with uncertainty, and you tried to look as convinced as possible. Would you have liked her to stay? After all, she was one of the few people you socialized with these days. She had turned in when you opened the bakery again, right after you posted the sign about looking for a new partner.

And even if you had had your doubts when you discovered she was Feyre’s sister and Azriel’s friend, you considered her your own friend.

So, yeah, you would have liked her to stay. Because you were still awfully sad all the time, and her company was one of the few things that made your day better. But you being sad didn’t excuse her missing a wonderful day with her mate.

“It’s not closing time yet” her eyes danced between the glass and you. “He was supposed to wait for me at the house”

“Guess he’s too eager to see you. He’s been dancing around the bakery for a good hour” you chuckled. “Elain, I mean it. Go. Have fun. I’ll see you on Monday”

“Y/N, I promise I don’t mind waiting. It’s not like it will unfreeze”

“And I promise I don’t mind at all. So, go, have fun and tell me about it on Monday” you gripped her hand softly over the counter, nodding to the waiting mal outside. “Come on, go”

Lucien was once more outside the bakery, the only visible part of him his red hair. He was covered in thick layers, but still managed to smile when Elain kissed your cheek and took her coat on the way out.

You didn’t have it in you to watch them be affectionate with each other, so you looked down at your task and decided it would be the last of the day.

It was hard watching all those couples walking hand in hand and remembering the feel of his warm, scarred hand in yours. To hear a man laughing and remember the unexpected laughs you dragged out of him sometimes. Even looking at the river was painful, because you could almost see the ghost of Azriel and you learning how to skate in a frozen lake in the Illyrian mountains a few years ago.

You had seen Azriel around a few times now, walking through your bakery and waving at you through the glass. Two times he had been waiting at the door when it was late at night, silently walking you home from afar without talking. Almost two months had passed by and your feelings were still as messed up as before.

Though you didn’t cry as much as before, and you were starting to get better, you still wondered.

If Azriel getting help would mean your relationship would be fixed, or if it was broken permanently. Deep in your thoughts, and used as you were to Azriel’s shadows, you didn’t notice how they tugged on your apron until the door sounded again.

Elain’s name didn’t leave your lips, because as soon as the door opened, you lost your breath.  As if you had summoned him, Azriel walked through the door, beautiful as ever. He wasn’t in his usual training leather, but winter clothes that fit him as a glove. Instantly, you noticed he had lost weight. His shoulders were slumped and his body didn’t carry the usual grace of an Illyrian warrior.

“Hi”

His scarred hands, that had held you so many times and slaughtered so many enemies, were tucked in his coat’s pockets. You could feel the nervousness through the bond, the hesitance. Too stunned to answer, you only stared at him.

You had known that, eventually, he would talk to you. That you would have to do more than just wave at each other through the glass and stay silent when he sent you details through Elain. But still, you hadn’t expected it.

Unable to move, you only blinked.

“I saw Elain and Lucien heading out” he added, not looking away from you. “It’s a nice day outside”

Azriel hadn’t finished before one of his new shadows scaped his control, sneaking around the counter. The familiar ones, that had been by your side since he left, danced around the new intrusion. It lifted your apron, and crawled up your neck.

The cool feeling was the last of your worries, because no matter how much you willed yourself to say something, you couldn’t even tear your eyes from him.

The bond flickered between the two of you, once more. Knowing that it was one-sided, that he didn’t wear it like you did, made break your trance.

“She’s finished for the day” you explained, sounding way more confident that what you felt.

“It’s a nice day, yeah” he repeated, not giving you time to feel awkward before he continued “I thought that maybe you wanted to take a walk with me. It’s cold, but we could… get coffee. Or chocolate, if you want”

Azriel gave you a half, broken smile. Hearing his voice again made you take ten steps backward.

“I have things to do”

You looked down to your current task, which could be easily discarded. You had left much important things half-done because of him, and you would have done it normally without a second thoughts. But no matter how heartful the conversation at your door had been, you just knew you weren’t ready to have a conversation without getting angry.

You knew you weren’t ready to forgive him.

His new shadow gripped your wrist tightly before disappearing, and you heard Azriel’s doubt. He wanted to say something else, and you wanted too. Still, you fell back to your measuring and ignored the way your vision blurred, how your knees became weak again.

Maybe going back to your duties was the only way not to break down again.

The silence continued for a long minute. You couldn’t not feel his presence, the way his scent filled the bakery and made your stomach turn. Your heart recognized what you needed, what you wanted, and threatened to jump out of your chest.

Before you could regret your words, Azriel opened the door again.

“You’re forgetting the yeast” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

When you looked up again, he only smiled. You opened your mouth to tell him to wait, maybe to fuck off and never come again. You didn’t have time, because Azriel closed the door behind him and he was gone.

The first tear fell against the unformed dough, followed by many more. You wouldn’t be finishing the blueberry cake that afternoon, you realized, as you crunched behind the counter and cried.

-

There was a storm coming, and everyone in Velaris had had the same idea – run to the market, buy everything they needed for a few days, and crowd themselves at home with their loved ones. You were trying to follow the first part of the plan, not having anyone to go home anymore. And if that wasn’t enough reason to drag you down, the crowd was getting intense.

Velaris’ market was a beautiful place, full of shops and nice vendors. But that day, the space felt too small.

You already had a few bags with you, yet there were a few more to go. Wanting to finish as soon as possible, you had ignored the rational part of your brain and had gotten in the middle of the crowd. You had only managed to buy milk and pasta, and still had a long way to go.

After Azriel’s brief appearance, your life had been messier than before. He had come by the bakery at least five times more, always offering you some kind of plan you rejected. Going to the park, for a flight or to a coffee shop. Taking walks, watching the sunset or training together.

You lived now half-prepared to see him walking through your door again, and not having the heart to tell him no. You weren’t sure if that thought frightened or comforted you.

In your haste, you had almost forgotten to buy provisions for the storm, and had found yourself on the worst day to do them. Crowded, loud and suffocating, that was how you would describe the market at that moment.

The fact that most people ran with their children and family wasn’t helpful at all.

Most of the times, it was Azriel who did the last-minute shopping for you. He knew you didn’t like crowds, loud places, that you did best in your bakery where only five people were allowed at a time.

Another shove broke you down from your daydreaming, and you looked back to see a pregnant woman staring with her eyebrows furrowed.

“The line is moving” she spatted, pointing to the small space ahead of you. “If you don’t move with it, you should step out”

“Oh, no” you chuckled softly. You picked up the bags on the ground and took the two small steps that you were supposed to. “Sorry, I just thought I could take a little bit more space. It’s crowded here”

“I don’t mind crowds, so if you want to step back, let me get first. I’m in a hurry”

“Me too” you gave her a polite smile, mindful of her state.

The short distance that separated you from the customer on the front was certainly not enough, and she knew it. Still, she looked at you with disapproval. There were only five more people to go until it was your turn, you could buy your snacks and run to the next stall.

You thought you could ignore the glare at the back of your neck, and you did for a few minutes. Without meaning to, you thought how everything with Azriel was easier. Not only people wouldn’t dare to talk to him like that, but also, he assured you a good meter of distance between you two and the rest of the world with his wings.

The snacks on your hands almost fell when, not even two seconds after the man took three steps forward, you were shoved again.

That time, when you looked back, the woman was accompanied by her mate. His wings covered her from the people behind them.

“You should really step out of the line” she repeated. “You might have all the time in the word, but we are in a hurry”

“Me too. You can’t expect me to be glued to that man” you tried to explain, anxiety coiling in your stomach. “He just moved”

“And you didn’t, which proves my point. Besides, it’s obvious you only have a few things. We have more”

“Which should be enough reason to let me go first, not only because I was here before you” you shrugged, feeling even more uncomfortable when the male huffed a laugh. “Maybe it’s you who shouldn’t have come here today if you can’t wait in a line”

You weren’t a threat for the woman, and you were trying really hard to be polite and prove your point. Besides, being pregnant wasn’t an easy task, and you could tell she was far along. Maybe you should have let her pass, or maybe told her to fuck off.

But before you could argue further, something clicked in the male’s eyes, wide with recognition.

And you would have preferred for him to go full berserk mode on you. Because you recognized that look, you had been receiving them for a while now.

The male elbowed the woman’s side softly, pointing with his chin towards you. You didn’t have time to turn back and avoid the conversation, because he spoke.

“You’re the shadowsinger’s mate” he announced, loud enough to make a few heads turn.

“Oh” the woman finally connected the dots and lunged forward to grab your arm so tight you couldn’t shake her off. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry” you pushed your arm back, trying to let go.

While the woman apologized, you couldn’t help but listen to the whispers. The same ones you had heard in your bakery and through the streets. Some of them thrown in your face by rude or nosy customers that didn’t understand the concept of privacy, others by bystanders.

At the end, it was the woman who said it out loud, confirming what everyone in the small circle that had formed at the cue was wondering about. She finally let go of your arm and crossed hers in front of her body.

The look of pity wasn’t as bad as the confirmation.

“He rejected you, right?” it wasn’t a question, not when you didn’t answer and she continued. “We heard you’ve been mated for almost a century and he doesn’t want the bond. Is that true?”

It wasn’t true, but you didn’t have the heart to correct her. Instead, you turned around and used your wing-less privileges to sneak through the crowd. You kept your head down, as if that could stop you from hearing the comments or feeling the stares.

People had come up with an alternative version where Azriel and you had been mated for decades, for centuries. Where you had cheated on him or he had changed you for someone else. You had even heard that he had bonded with another person and had kicked you out of the house, and that you had been the one rejecting the bond.

Each version was farthest from the truth than the last one, but they all hurt the same. The crowd didn’t seem to get thinner no matter how deep you got in the market. Once the people who had heard the conversation were left behind, new people crowded you, worried about the girl panicking and running through the middle of the market.

There were a few occasions where you thought you would fall, where you tripped and almost embarrassed yourself farther. You had almost made it to the back entrance of the market when you finally realized you were tripping no more. There was no longer a crowd around you, nor whispers or hands reaching your way.

It took you another few steps to fully stop and assess the situation. When you looked back to see where the crowd was, you were met with a broad chest inches away from you. Through tearful eyes, you recognized Azriel’s wings tucking you away from people, his mere presence pushing them away.

You met his hazel eyes, full of worry and regret. His hair was longer, covering his brow, but you found comfort in his crooked nose, in his freckles, that you knew so well.

You noticed in his hands your bags that had been left in the stall, a new one with the snacks you were about to buy.

“What – what are you doing here?” you choked out, too grateful for the sudden moment of peace to wonder about anything else.

“I felt you through the bond, a few hours ago. Anxious and…” he stopped himself, his eyes scanning every tear that marked your cheeks. “I was just getting here when it got worse. I heard most of it. I’m –”

“Don’t say you’re sorry” you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault”

Out of the many things that were indeed his fault, people not minding their own business wasn’t his. You were used to him blaming himself for everything, from wars in other courts to people fighting in the street. The response came naturally.

Your nose was cold and runny, your hands frozen in your pockets, and your feet hurt. Besides all of that, you felt all wrong. Because you enjoyed his presence, because what they said, and because you couldn’t help but calm down when he was close.

Azriel didn’t say anything when you took the bags from his hands, thanking him quietly. He didn’t say anything as more people walked away from him, either because of his wings or because they recognized him.

“You don’t like last minute shopping”

It was a pointless observation, but it was better than to comment on how afraid he had been when, just outside the market, he felt the bond snap with urgence. His shadows knew where you were, and that you needed him, but even he had trouble running through crowds. Azriel also couldn’t talk about how mad he had been at everyone in that stall, how his new shadows had turned off every light and almost chocked them to death.

Azriel wanted to say that you were probably cold because you didn’t like your own coats, and most of the times wore one of his. He wanted to hug you, too, to feel you between his arms after what felt like an eternity and promise you that it would end well.

But he couldn’t say anything more than the obvious.

“I had to” you answered.

With a furious fist, frustrated at life, at him and at you, you brushed the tears off your cheeks. You could tell that he wanted to keep talking, and you did too. Since your last encounter, you had come up with more conversations you should have.

You stared at each other for what seemed forever. There were details that you had almost forgotten in your sorrow – like his long lashes, that you teased him about. Or the freckle that snuck up to the corner of his left eye. The way his mouth rose higher from the right, and the small scar on his ear from where Cassian dared him to wear an earring.

Only his face was enchanting enough to help you forget about the day, about the weight of your chest. It was the first closing call from the market, that sounded through the public speakers, that broke you away.

“I should go”

“I should go”

You talked at the same time, and you smiled softly when you pointed to different directions. You didn’t miss how his eyes fell to your mouth, how his own lifted up too.

“I could walk you back” he offered, not tearing his eyes away from your mouth. “If you let me”

You didn’t answer immediately. Those last words, that he had repeated so often lately, almost had you saying yes. You could almost imagine how it would go – him walking by your side, one of his wings behind your back. His elbow brushing yours, and his gaze fixed on you.

Your smile dropped when you remembered the times you had walked just like that, tucked together. The times you had waked by yourself through Velaris with his imprint on you, and the times he had left without a trace of your presence.

Azriel knew the answer before you said it, and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“Sorry”

That time, you decided to turn away before he could. Taking the back exit was a poor choice, knowing it was farther from your house than the main one, but you couldn’t picture yourself walking through the market without Azriel keeping the crowds a step away.

So you turned around, gripped your bags tight and didn’t tear your eyes from the ground during the whole way back.

-

It wasn’t Azriel who found you the time everything changed, but you.

The cold and winter were over, the streets were clean and the sun was out. It was a perfect day to spend outside, and Elain seemed fixed in throwing you out of your own shop. She claimed that the bags under your eyes were as dark as the night, and that your skin was so pale that she couldn’t tell the flour stains apart from it.

“Just for the record, you’re kicking the owner of the bakery out of the bakery” you stated, looking at her once more from the door. “You do realize that shouldn’t happen, right?”

“I’m helping a friend come out of her ghost-like season” she replied, still decorating muffins. “And you do realize that most shops close on Sunday’s, right?”

“Certainly not a bakery” you looked to the empty fountain at her right. “If we do it together, we will – “

“If you touch one single item of this bakery, I’m banning you from the kitchen for a month”

You doubted she meant it, she could. But still, you sighed and turned around to open the door. You weren’t an extrovert, certainly not an outsider. Since you were a child, you liked your kitchen, your house, and your space. And none of those things were outside the door.

But you actually feared what the fae you left behind would do if you turned back. Elain had already hidden your apron so you couldn’t put it on, and had threatened to mismatch the soy milk with normal one.

Giving her a last, tight smile through the glass, you walked towards the center of Velaris.

Not many people were outside that soon on a Sunday morning, but you were glad for her insistence the moment the sun kissed your face. The cold weather was disappearing and you could feel warmth across your cheeks. It was still cold, and it would be for at least another week, but the change in the weather promised a happy spring.

You walked aimlessly around Velaris, stopping to watch the Sidra move every now and then. Your feet carried you through unfamiliar streets, all of them filled with colors and smells. The longer you walked, the healthier you felt. Each step felt like a weight lifted from your chest, and you even smiled to a few usuals you found in the streets.

The main square peeked through the streets. It wasn’t your usual destination, too crowded and not as pretty as other parts of the town. But you still walked through it, feeling at ease and happy.

It had happened before, usually the days before you started your cycle, and you should have known the feeling of ease had nothing to do with the weather or the walk. It had happened and it happened again, just as you rounded a corner to walk in the square.

If, by any chance, Azriel hadn’t noticed you coming, the shadows that tugged him away from where he was standing would have made it obvious.

His eyes widened when he saw you, and you felt that peaceful feeling making its home for the day. There was no sorrow, no sadness, and none of the usual feelings that lately you felt when it came to him.

You cursed yourself stupid when you realized that you cycle was coming, and that every year you were in a mood until Azriel showed up, your hormones demanding your mate.

“Y/N”

Your name fell from your mouth and just by hearing it you noticed something different. It was new, and at the same time, you thought you recognized it somehow. You looked to his empty hands, to the syphons on his shoulders and chest and truth-teller on his side.

It looked like you had interrupted something important to him. But instead of running away from him like the last two times, you took a step closer.

“Are you going on a mission?” you pointed with your chin to his leather, eyes stopping at his chest. There was that thing, that you couldn’t name.

“Just came back. I was…”

Azriel looked to the building he just exited and for a moment, in silence. You had met a bunch of times since the incident in the market, and you had started having longer conversations. About the weather, about your bakery, and even about his family, who you finally knew officially.

Certainly, your relationship had improved, although it wasn’t just fixed yet. When he didn’t answer, you were reminded of all the times he had kept things to himself, either out of fear or doubt.

He seemed to doubt between telling you and keeping it to himself. Any other time, you knew, he would have kept it to himself. He had done it, in the past – when you asked him about his job, or tried to understand his past. Many times where he had evaded the truth or his emotions.

Your mood, that had been in a rush since you left the bakery, fell a little at his silence. He looked torn and you were ready to leave, before he answered.

“This is Madja’s house. I meet her here so we can talk, usually during the week” he looked back at you, watching the surprise of his statement. “But something happened and I needed to talk to her”

“What happened?”

Azriel’s lips were pressed tight, debating on whether he should tell you or not. He wouldn’t have doubted about it a year ago – he wouldn’t tell you, because in his eyes, it would only hurt you more than he already had. But he had learnt new things, and had realized that a relationship was built on trust. And that his fears, his perception of the reality, had broken yours.

He had cut the mission short when he had noticed, though he wasn’t sure he had ever done something like that. Azriel didn’t know what had triggered it, why it happened in the Winter court and not anytime sooner.

Madja, of course, had had an answer ready – an answer that had left him staring at her door for long twenty minutes before you appeared.

“Kallias should have sent something to Rhysand, but he didn’t” he started, not sure why he was traveling so far from the event. “So I went to check. Turns out someone must have taken it and, well, I tried to…”

He trailed off before he could finish, aware of your confusion. You never talked about what he did for Rhysand, in any court. No matter how big or small was the assignment, he didn’t tell you about it.

But that wasn’t what your confusion was about, at least not all of it. You couldn’t possibly notice because you had given it for granted since the beginning, but Azriel did notice. He noticed the change as soon as it happened, and babbled when he explained to Rhysand what he should have been feeling for years.

Had explained to Madja moments ago, who had given him a knowing smile and a proud nod.

“I accepted the bond” he confessed, continuing before you could say anything else. “I don’t know how, or why, but I was there and suddenly I was hit with – with this in my chest, and I don’t know why it wouldn’t happen sooner”

“You accepted the bond” you repeated, looking between his chest and face.

“I don’t know how, or why now. I was, thinking… And it hit me” Azriel smiled sadly, not saying what his thoughts were about – what they had been about since that night. “I didn’t want to tell you, because, this is, you don’t have to do anything now. Me accepting the bond doesn’t change what I did”

Azriel hadn’t meant to tell you, neither to be so vague and ridiculously nervous about it.

It had been a surprise when, in the middle of a conversation, he felt it. He had been thinking about you, because there were flowers and they were pretty against the cold weather, and to him, you were the prettiest thing the Cauldron had made. One moment Kallias had been going through the last movements of the package and the next the high lord was looking at him with raised brows.

Congratulating him for something that should have happened six years ago.

“It’s not that I didn’t want the bond before, Y/N” he continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise you, I didn’t know how to accept it. I didn’t know that I deserved it”

Azriel had thought, and he still wanted to, that you so pretty that you were meant for someone else. That it was borrowed time, that he didn’t deserve the bond just as he didn’t deserve you. With Madja and Rhys, they had had deep conversations about his mental health, about his version of life where he lived through a glass of pain and rejection.

As he stared at your surprised form, he tried not to let hope leak into his heart. He knew it didn’t fix what was broken, but he hoped it was the first step of a long recovery to win you back.

Only if you could confirm or deny, instead of stare at him.

“Say something” Azriel finally broke, almost begged. “Whatever you want. Just say something”

And you wanted to, because wasn’t that what you had wanted? You had fooled yourself lately thinking about may what ifs. What if he had accepted the bond in the bagging, what if he had told you that he wasn’t fine, that he was broken and needed help.

What if you had helped him and not rushed things when he wasn’t ready. Now, it felt like the Cauldron was giving you that opportunity, only that you didn’t know how to react.

You finally looked away from him and decided to give an experimental tug on the bond, to see if anything had changed.

It had.

“Az”

It was a chuckle, maybe the beginning of a cry. It was anger but also relief because what came back from that tug wasn’t what you usually felt. It was stronger, solid, as if there was a physical string between your bodies that kept you linked.

Usually, it was just an intense feeling that was enough for you. But now that you felt him tugging back, felt him loving you, you couldn’t hold back another laugh. He shoved down through it everything he felt – adoration, love, joy. Many fears that had you stumbling towards him, and pain.

So much pain that your smile dropped. His dropped too, and you felt the bond getting fainter.

“That’s another reason. I didn’t want you to feel… that” Azriel retreated the bond farther. “I have so many fears and pains here that I couldn’t even imagine sharing them with you. And that – “

“You don’t have to feel ashamed” you cut him off, your voice hoarse. “I love you the same”

Words were unnecessary when you hugged his middle and buried yourself in his chest. He curled around you, like he had done so many times.

The channel snapped open again, and you just closed your eyes tightly. It was an endless source of emotions, and it broke you that most of them were bad. There was rejection, from so many people that it felt like an angry, black bull coming your way. Sadness that felt overwhelming and never ending, always coming in waves when Azriel didn’t expect it.

You also felt disgust, and you only held him tighter when you discovered it was self-disgust. Not only at the things that he had done, but also at what had been done to him. The scars on his hands, the shadows around him. He had hated himself for so long he had forgotten how to love.

But then, at the bottom, there was something bright, and that part you realized it was only dedicated to you. There was his family too, but it wasn’t as intense as his love for you. Everything that he lacked during his life, that he yearned for, was tucked where it mattered the most.

“I love you” he whispered against your head, softly. “I love you”

You didn’t answer, just raised your head until you could brush your lips against him. Later, you would have time to blame the cycle, which you wouldn’t get for another two months, or the emotions of the moment. But you knew it was just what you needed, what you both deserved, when you felt him kissing back.

At the beginning, it was just his lips against yours, and it was enough. Your noses brushed each other, you got on your tiptoes and his wing cocooned both of you. His hands only pressed you tighter against his body when you moved your lips against his, brushing the edge of your tongue against his bottom one.

Azriel could barely keep himself straight when you silently asked for permission to open his mouth, which he happily obliged.  

From that moment, it was crashing. The kiss was only a physical proof of your feelings traveling through the mated bond, so wild and intense you couldn’t tell which one was his or yours.

“I’m sorry, darling” he whispered against your lips, giving you no time to reply. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for being a coward. I’m sorry”

“I forgive you. We don’t keep secrets anymore” you managed to say between kisses.

“Never” Azriel answered while leaving kisses on your cheeks and nose.”

“And we’ll talk about our emotions, and feelings. You’ll tell me about your life when I ask”

“Always”

“You won’t close off to me” you pulled his head away and made him look at you.

While you held his face between your hands, Azriel smiled. It was a different smile from the previous ones, from the ones you had seen so far. It was carefree, loving, and yours.

Your thumb brushed the corner of his eye, his upper cheek, the border of his nose.

“I’m here, Azriel. Always. So you don’t have to hide anything from me, or to be ashamed or afraid. I’m here” you closed the distance once more, controlling the kiss by holding onto his face. “Right around the corner”

“Right around the corner” he repeated, dipping his head and sealing all his promises with another kiss.

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[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field IX

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

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a/n: here we are!! 'season' two!! thanks so much for reading it and I'm SO so glad lots of people seem to love it :) if you do, please reblog it or leave your thoughts in the replies or in my inbox! i love hearing from you and talking about it so don't be a stranger !

without further adieu,, enter buzzcut coryo <3

next part

Coriolanus's stomach twisted as he could hear your screams from the hall, even though by then he was all the way on the other side of the school. He thought that was unsettling, only for them to abruptly stop just before he left. The silence that followed was so much worse. He didn't get any sleep, sitting on the roof in Grandma'ams rose garden with Tigris all night, wondering if you were dead.

He was just sick about it, even as he left the following morning, so early that the sun was yet to rise. It was a long, painful ride, and he spent the entire thing certain that you were dead. It was his fault, he had only wanted you to come with him, so he wouldn't be alone, but now he truly is alone and he won't even have you to write to back home. Regardless, he would try.

Rather than sit with the idea that it might even be pointless for him to live another day, especially with this unflattering haircut and a uniform that challenged the discomfort of the academy one, he decided to write to you on a paper he had found bunched between the train seats to ease his mind.

Y/N/N,

I hope you're reading this. I hope this gets back to you at home and finds you safe and sound, and you're sitting over your desk with a textbook open getting ready for university in the fall. That's not what's happening though, is it? You're probably dead. I probably killed you. If you are reading this in your room, or your library, or over my shoulder as I write this because you are only alive in what's left of your spirit, I hope you know that I am sorry. I did it because I wanted you with me, because in the moment I was so sure you'd be better off with me in the districts than you would be at home with your father. I think I was wrong. But I still miss you. You meant more to me than I ever told you. I guess, more than I ever told myself either until these last few weeks.

I think I heard them kill you after I left you with the Dean. If they did, boy, did you go out fighting. I always knew you would. I can't stop writing in case I never get to speak to you again. But again, maybe you're not dead, right?

Please tell me you're not dead.

Yours,

Always yours, your Coryo

He smoothes out the wrinkled sheet as he writes, hand shaking through most of it. He doesn't know if he should even bother sending it, or if he should just fold it up and throw it out the window in hopes that the message will find its way to your ghost. No, he has to send it. Otherwise he'll definitely never know, at least not for twenty years, and he couldn't bear that.

The wind hits the trees into the windows of the train as it rolls along the tracks, demanding that the branches be heard against the glass. It reminds him of you. Then again, what doesn't these days? Maybe it was just you letting him know you had read his letter, and that you forgive him. That would give him a semblance of peace for the rest of the ride.

When you woke up, it was impossible to tell what time it was. You only knew that it was dark, and your bedroom door was locked from the outside when you got up and carefully tried to open it only to be blocked by the mechanism.

"I have half the mind to agree with you on the Avox thing." You hear your dad sigh, his voice echoing from his study just down the hall. Your eyes widen and you try the knob again. Yep, still locked. "But we could always send her to Nine or Ten as a nurse. She's not staying here, that's certain."

"I don't want to push your decision, here, but she was saying she would tell everyone. She knows more than we thought, more details." Highbottom was here too, great.

"No, that's impossible. What did she say?"

"She knows we're selling, likely that you're storing it all here somewhere, and she knows it's enough to be treason. I don't know what else she knows, but it's risky business ever letting her out of that room again. The procedure might be our best option, here." You've heard enough, quickly making for your window instead. It's locked as well, but draping your old uniform over the lever gives you enough freedom to crush it with a particularly heavy, hardcover textbook without making much noise.

You change quickly, grabbing a few essentials that you could fit into your book bag, then climb out the window and slide down the back porch column before making as quiet of an escape as possible. Adrenaline carried you a few blocks away, but now, you were unsure what to do. You couldn't return, and you couldn't be seen, and you had a tragic shortage of friends at the moment. You find your feet carrying you toward the building you know Coriolanus lives in.

You're not particularly excited to see him, but with no other options, you're sure you can find it in yourself to be forgiving just this once. You could go to Sejanus's family home, but it's not far enough away, and you're not sure what his father would say. He'd probably call your dad in a second and it would all be for naught- you couldn't risk it. So, Coryo's it was.

You enter the building, walking straight for the elevator. He was in the penthouse, so you just have to hit the very top button and figure it out from there. You've never been to his home before, but he's talked about it plenty. Enough that you could find your way there, at least.

You groan when you quickly realize the elevator doesn't work, looking over at the stairs. It's a tall building, so you've got a long way to go. You wonder how he does this every day as you climb up set after set of stairs, taking note of how the walls are basically crumbling around you.

You knew he didn't have money, that he couldn't eat, but you didn't think he lived like this. No wonder he was so thin, and no wonder he still had any muscle left on his body. It was these damn stairs. That couldn't be it though, that wouldn't explain how his shoulders just seemed to go on for miles- maybe he had some kind of workout routine you never knew about.

You're drawn from your thoughts when you reach the top of the last staircase, hesitating to open the industrial looking door in front of you. Just beyond that was the front door to the Snow penthouse, and now that you're here, you're not sure what to do. Do you knock? You don't even know what time it is.

You sit by the door, deciding to think it over for a bit. It doesn't take you long to fall asleep leaning up against the wall where it meets the dusty floor.

Waking up, you're met with a gasp. "Y/N?" You blink open your eyes, seeing Tigris crouched in front of you, forehead creased with worry. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?"

"Tigris, hello." You mumble, gathering yourself to stand up as she helps you. "I, uh, I didn't know where to go, so..."

"Okay, okay. Come in for a second." She nods, holding your shoulder as she guides you back into the apartment. You squint at the sunrise through the large bay windows, she must have been on her way to work. "Can I get you anything? Some tea? You must be freezing..." She says, immediately shuffling into the kitchen.

"No, no. It's fine. Thank you, though." You insist, trying not to stare at the state the apartment has fallen into.

"Okay, well, please, take a seat. Tell me what's going on."

You nod slightly and move to sit down at their dining table where she joins you, reaching out for your hand which you gratefully take. "Did Coriolanus leave already?" You ask and she nods, giving you a sad smile.

"I must admit, I'm relieved to see you." She says, taking you by surprise. "Coryo thought you were dead. He was just so torn up about it, he said it was his fault but he wouldn't tell me why. I was expecting to see your passing in the papers this morning."

"Well, my days are numbered." You sigh, looking out the window again. The view was stunning. Maybe you would prefer a penthouse to your own large, empty feeling home. "My father and Dean Highbottom were discussing turning me into an Avox as a pity punishment, and I don't doubt that my father would rather bury me than have that on his name. I didn't stick around to hear their decision."

Tigris listens intently, squeezing your cold hands between her own. "And now, I don't know what to do. I had nowhere to go, I'm so sorry to intrude-"

"No, my goodness, please. You are always welcome here." She assured you. "But... what will you do?"

"I have to leave." You nod to yourself. "I have to leave and I can't come back, can I?"

"One day I'm sure it will be safe for you to return." She says, notably trying to put a positive spin on it. "I'll tell you what-" She stands quickly, going over to a hall closet and pulling out a large fur coat. "Take this, it can hide you and keep you warm. Take the next train to Twelve, that's where Coryo went." She places the coat in your lap. "He'll be ecstatic to have you and see that you're well."

You nod, standing up and pulling it on in a hurry. It was a beautiful coat, you could tell it was real fur. This must have belonged to one of their mothers. "Thank you, Tigris."

"There's another train headed there in about twenty minutes, if you rush you can make it. I had to check the schedule last night for him. Don't buy a ticket, just climb in a transport car from the opposite side, not the platform." She instructs you hurriedly,

You dig in your bag as you both head for the door, pulling out a handful of money and rifling through it to give some to her. You'll need some, but she will too.

"Here, Tigris. Take this." You say as she holds the door for you, and she instantly is shaking her head.

"No, no. I couldn't." She smiles awkwardly, waving a hand at you. "You'll need it more than I do, Coryo will be sending us cheques."

You smile at her understandingly, holding it out to her again. "If not for your help, then for this lovely jacket. Please take it. I insist."

Tigris sighs, taking it from your hand before pulling you into a hug which you gladly return. "Tell him we love him, okay?"

"He knows," You say, chin resting on her shoulder. "But I will."

It was dark again when your train reached its final stop, and you were curled up under the coat trying to sleep. You scramble to get up, having to bolt from the train before anyone came to unload the car.

Unfortunately, you didn't get the privilege of having a place to stay when you arrived, so once you're out of sight of the train, the best you can do is wander.

You don't have to wander long before you hear music. You didn't realize people were happy here, so the sounds of laughter and shouting and dancing coming from inside what looked to be an abandoned building made you tilt your head at the idea. Maybe you would just sit outside, around the side of the building where you won't be seen and you can listen.

You don't even get the chance to sit before you hear the singing start. It's Lucy Gray. You mentally scold yourself for not thinking of her sooner as you stand again quickly, finding yourself quite lightheaded. You must be hungry. Maybe there will be some food inside, or maybe you can find talk to Lucy Gray and maybe she'll let you stay with her. Just until you get yourself situated here.

Clutching your new coat tightly around yourself you walk in after attempting to dust off and salvage your clothes. Your favourite skirt and shoes took quite a beating throughout the day, and you're disappointed, to say the least. Hopefully Lucy Gray has a washing machine, but you doubt it. Did these people even know what a washing machine is? By the look of everyone in the room, the answer was a definite no.

Sure enough, Lucy Gray was on stage, singing her heart out. You had never seen her smile so wide, of course, and the kids surrounding her onstage were just as talented as she was at all their instruments. You've never seen live music like this before, only classical or opera where everyone sat quietly and listened until the end. This environment was entirely new to you.

Not wanting to interrupt, you wait until Lucy Gray steps offstage and her spot is replaced with a little blonde girl who couldn't have been older than ten.

"Give it up for the amazing Lucy Gray Baird!" The girl shouts into the mic, gesturing to your friend before more music started to play. "She'll be back, she's just taking a little break, but until then, you lot are stuck listenin' to me."

This is your chance. You push through the crowd and step into the hall you saw Lucy Gray go down. "Lucy Gray?" You call out hopefully, watching your step as to not roll a heel. In hindsight, these shoes were not ideal for the journey you took, but your options were limited by a time crunch.

"Lucy Gray?" You ask again, turning a corner and peeling into a large open room. It's a few moments before your eyes land on her, and she turns to face you having heard you walk in.

"Oh my days, I thought I recognized that voice!" She smiles, opening her arms and running up to you. "Y/N, my word, what are you doin' here?" Her excitement fades quickly into concern as she drops her arms from around you.

"Long story..." You chuckle nervously, pulling at your coat again as she nods for you to continue. "We got caught, for the compact. And the snakes, somehow. Coriolanus put our handkerchiefs that you used in the tank so they wouldn't attack you, I guess. I didn't know. Then they pulled us out of class the next day, he told them it was me, so then I put up a fight and they sedated me. When I woke up I was at home and they were talking about having my tongue cut out and turning me into one of those servants but I'm sure my dad would rather have me dead. So," You sigh, trying to summarize it as quickly as possible. "I ran."

Lucy Gray shook her head, mouth agape in shock at all the information she just took in. "Okay, wait... So they were going to kill you?"

You nod.

"But that teacher of yours seemed so nice."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, he gave me some money and escorted me into the train himself."

You scoff, shaking your head. "He's never liked either of us, but that's only because I have dirt on him. I don't know what Coryo did."

"Well," Lucy Gray sighs, rubbing your shoulders gently. "I'm glad you're here. That you're safe."

"You too." You smile. "Can I just say, too, we were so proud of you. We were so lucky to be your mentors."

"I count myself the lucky one." She grins. "Let's move on, shall we? On the up and up."

"Yes, sounds lovely." You grin at her.

"Can I get you some water? Liquor? What do you need?" She asks, turning at that and going over to a bench in the middle that had a few water bottles.

"I would love some water." You breathe out, joining her and sitting down as she hands one to you.

"Lucy Gray, could I ask you for a really big favour?" You say after taking your first sip.

"Please." She nods.

"Can I stay with you?"

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[irisintheafterglow]

every love I've known in comparison is a failure

summary: the stars appear over baratie, creating the perfect atmosphere to embarrass your husband. (opla!zoro x you)

wc: 2k

cw/tags: established relationship, swearing, allusions to canon-typical blood and violence, drinking and alcohol, flashback to a very silly meet ugly lol

note: (part one is linked here!) HELLO ZORO NATION, here is the highly requested part 2 to "if he's a ghost then i can be a phantom." hope you like it, i definitely had fun writing it because he's just,,,, such a himbo man. @alphaash99 thank you for the inbox ask, sorry it took so long to answer!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

“I don’t know what else to tell you; that’s really all there is to it,” you laugh, taking another sip from your glass. “He brings me heads and I give him money.” 

“Brought you heads,” your husband corrects from your side, his arm draped securely over your shoulders. “Right now, I’m the one with a fire under my ass.” 

“Mhmm, but apparently I’m still giving you money,” you remind him, nodding toward the overflowing coin pouch of Berry at the center of the table. He shrugs a broad shoulder in defeat, unsuccessfully trying to hide his smile. 

“Okay, but you’re leaving out the part where you somehow fell in love with this…oaf.” Nami gestures vaguely at the crew’s swordsman and his jaw drops in indignation. Luffy and Usopp break into another fit of delirious giggling while Sanji leaves to fetch yet another bottle. Everyone present knew his ego was bruised from his failed attempts to charm you. “I think he has less romantic appeal than an overripe banana.”

“At this point, just say that I’m ugly,” he chuckles lightheartedly and she shakes her head in exasperation. “I’m obviously not that bad since this is who I married.” The two remaining boys at the table give polite applause, to which Zoro murmurs his melodramatic appreciation like he was accepting an award. You couldn’t remember the last time he was this relaxed while he was drinking. Most of the time, you had to steer him to whatever ship he was calling home for the night while simultaneously preventing him from stabbing anything that moved. 

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Nami snorts and Zoro makes a mocking face that you raise your hand up to cover. “But, seriously. How’d he get you?” You pause, searching for words in your foggy mind and getting distracted by the speckling of midnight stars up above. Following the disastrous first meeting with the crew’s chef, their swordsman reluctantly introduced you to the rest of his new friends. You spent the remainder of the evening sipping a fruity drink with your legs crossed over your husband’s lap and regaling the table with embarrassing stories about their favorite stoic crewmate. 

“In all honesty, our first meeting was a fluke,” you admit after some time. Sanji returns with a new bottle and pours himself a hefty glass before sliding it to the center of the group, settling in to listen to your story. “I was there by mistake; he was there by mistake. I guess the two canceled out.” 

Years ago, when you were still confined to the walls of the Marine base, a series of unexpected changes in your itinerary allowed you an afternoon of freedom. You were visiting from your father’s countryside estate to once again ask if you could sail on one of his ships, only to receive the same dismissive answer as every request before. As if to rub more salt in the wound, he also notified you that Mihawk would be docking in two days time to continue your training. After jumping the gun a little too early and skipping the flattery dinner to get him drunk enough to grant your request, you were left with an extra day to wander the dry, lifeless walls of the installation. With a leg propped up on your father’s expensive leather chair and the other resting on the windowsill facing the ocean, you don’t bother turning when the door opens and the sound of boots echoes through the office. 

“Get out and I won’t tell the captain you came in here,” you say boredly, staring at the vast blue water that seemed to spell out freedom in the seafoam. The voice that replies is too disrespectful to ever come from the mouth of one of your father’s underlings. 

“I wasn’t aware the captain wore such promiscuous clothing.” You startle, swiveling abruptly to face the stranger that entered the room. He wasn’t a Marine at all, you quickly realized, not with that bright green hair and enough wrinkles in his clothes to look like your great grandfather’s forehead. But, what gave him away the most was his eyes. They weren’t like the eyes of other men you looked at, the ones who would cower or rake over you like you were some entree at a feast. No, this stranger looked at you curiously and with amusement that irked you. 

He looked at you like you were a new challenge. 

“Who are you?”

“Roronoa Zoro, the Pirate Hunter,” he replies and your eyes flick to his sharp jawline. If he weren’t in the room, you would have slapped yourself to regain your composure. “I have a bounty I’d like to turn in.” He tosses a burlap sack dripping with dark liquid onto your father’s equally expensive desk and you don’t even flinch. Your lack of a reaction seems to spur him further and he tilts his head to the side, studying you. 

“What’d my old man promise you?” 

“The captain is your father?” His eyes narrow on you and you glare, not backing down. 

“Answer my question first,” you fire back without hesitation. 

“Five hundred thousand Berry,” he answers and you nod, reaching over to one of the intricately carved drawers and pulling out a stack of bills and a dense pouch of coins. Rolling the bills into a wad and stuffing it into the coin purse, he catches it with ease when you toss it to him. “You’re not gonna verify if I’m giving you the right number?”

“That would imply that I care about how much you’re taking from my father,” you point out, “Which, I really don’t. I couldn’t care less, frankly, if you ransacked this entire office. Just don’t get caught or both our asses will have a fire under them.” He hums in assent and turns to leave, but as his hand hovers over the door handle, he hesitates and looks at you over his shoulder. 

“What are you doing here by yourself?”

“Trying to figure out how to sneak out of this fucking hellhole,” you mutter with obvious distaste. A thoughtful look crosses his features and he chucks you a crumpled cloak from a nearby dressing table. “What are you–”

“Put it on. Let’s get out of here,” he states and you hastily throw it over your clothes, slipping behind the swordsman while he guides you out of the base. He knows his way around the tunnels and, with the cloak obscuring your identity, successfully sneaks you out of the dusty beige walls of the base. The smell of garlic and fried food wafts into your nostrils and you drift toward it, feeling in your pocket for your own small coin pouch. Zoro falls into step next to you effortlessly and follows you to the enticing grill. “Someone’s hungry.”

“I’ve been eating nothing but government slop for the past twenty four hours. If I have to see another spoonful hit my plate, I’ll actually die,” you deadpan and the corner of his mouth turns up in amusement. Without bothering to count the amount, you drop a handful of coins into the vendor’s roughened palms and ask for enough food to feed you and the man next to you. She gladly obliges, stacking various grilled sticks of food onto a plate and thanking you profusely for your generosity. “We’re gonna eat and you’re going to explain to me why you snuck me out,” you command and you’re glad to sense him continue to stay by your side. 

During the few hours you spend with Zoro, you find yourself utterly enthralled by him and he is fascinated by you. You listen to his stories about hunts and his bounties and find yourself in awe of how non-arrogantly he speaks of his job. You’d sat down for numerous fancy dinners with egotistical Marines that wanted to sleep their way into good graces with your father, but eating with Zoro was nothing like that. He was an amazing listener and, when you thought he was just ignoring something you said, he ended up saying something just as thoughtful a few moments later. His visits became more frequent and you continued to find excuses to linger around the base in hopes that he would sneak you out again. Your father’s rage would end both of you if he ever found out, but the thrill of secrecy was your newest addiction. 

“He asked to marry me a few years after I helped him empty my dad’s wallet,” you recall, fondly remembering the disaster that was his proposal. “He had this whole shabang planned out with a sunset and fancy cheeses–”

“And then it fucking rained,” he grumbles before taking another sip. “Fucking storm rolled in and blew away the entire setup.” 

“That’s still romantic, though,” Luffy offers reassuringly. “Getting down on one knee in the rain.”

“It is,” you smirk, “if he didn’t drop the ring off the cliffside.” The crew erupts into shocked cackling, tears pricking the edges of their eyes. 

“You dropped the fucking ring?” 

“The wind was strong!” 

“Wait, so then how’d you get that one?” Usopp points at the green gem embedded in the simple gold band. It was strikingly similar to the one hanging from a chain around your husband’s neck, a decision made so he didn’t lose it while he was fighting. 

“He went out and bought one from the market the next day. It was, what, fifty Berry?”

“You bought them a cheap ass ring after you dropped the expensive one,” Nami echoes in disbelief. Zoro opens his mouth to argue but is cut off with even louder shrieks from the table. “How the hell did you pull them?”

“It’s something I ask myself every time I see this ring,” he concedes. “But one thing I do know is that they deserve more than I can ever give them.” The soft look on his face when he turns to you never fails to make your body feel like it’s floating. It’s only when Luffy slams his palms on the table decisively that you snap out of your lovesick trance.

“Alright, that settles it,” he states with finality. 

“Settles what?”

“You’re going to join our crew.” Usopp raises his glass like he’d seen the order coming from miles away. Sanji turns a slightly darker shade of pink but doesn’t protest. 

“I could use someone that isn’t oozing with testosterone on the ship,” Nami adds when you’re unable to respond immediately. You can feel Zoro’s body tense next to you and, when you place a comforting hand on his shoulder, it feels like pure stone. He knew firsthand that asking you to leave was a touchy subject, especially when it was hard for the child of a captain to disappear into the blue. If you were out there with him, he told you, he wouldn’t be able to assure your safety when he was on hunts. Though you both knew you could handle yourself just fine, it always seemed to be a matter of poor timing when it came to running away together. Poor timing, that is, until now. 

Zoro wasn’t alone now, and you don’t even hesitate. 

“Do I get to choose a cool signature weapon like everyone else?” The captain’s face breaks into a blinding grin and begins a long ramble of different weapons you could choose from. Your husband’s body hasn’t lost its stiffness and he lowers his voice to a tone that only you could hear. 

“Are you sure about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His eyebrows furrow, unconvinced. “I said I’d do anything to be with you, didn’t I?”

“But piracy, love? You’re willing to go that far for me?”

“You know I’d go even farther if I needed to,” you murmur and that settles it. You catch an excited glint in Zoro’s eye and lean in closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re not the only swordsman on the ship anymore, husband.”

“And I’ve finally gotten you out of that damned base, so I think it’s a good time to renew those vows.”

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[awkward-walking-potato]

Guess

Remy LeBeau x reader

Gambit returns to the woman he hurt, admitting his fear of commitment and asking for a chance to prove his love. Despite her lingering pain, she decides to give him one last chance, hopeful that this time might be different.

Inbox open for requests for any X-men imagines

The night was thick with humidity, the kind that clung to your skin and made everything feel slow, heavy. New Orleans was alive, though—a cacophony of music and laughter spilling out from the bars and into the streets. It was a city that thrived in the night, much like the man who stood in the shadows, watching the world with eyes that burned like embers.

Remy LeBeau—Gambit to those who knew him well—was a man of the night, a man of secrets. He moved through the world with an effortless grace, his charm as dangerous as the cards he wielded. But tonight, something weighed on him, a tension that even the city’s intoxicating rhythm couldn’t shake.

You were the reason for that tension.

He’d been with many women before, each one as fleeting as the last. He was good at keeping things light, never getting too attached, always moving on before anything got too serious. But you were different. From the moment he met you, something had shifted. You weren’t just another pretty face, another thrill. You had gotten under his skin, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake you loose.

“Guess I wasn’t enough for you,” you’d said the last time he saw you, your voice cold, but your eyes betraying the hurt that simmered beneath the surface. He hadn’t known what to say, so he had just left, the silence between you hanging heavy in the air.

Now, he found himself standing outside your apartment, the faint glow of your window the only light in the otherwise darkened building. He had told himself he wouldn’t come back, that it was better for both of you if he just stayed away. But here he was, unable to stay away any longer.

He took a deep breath, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with a flick of his finger. The flame danced for a moment before he inhaled, the smoke curling around him like a ghost.

“Guess I’m just a fool,” he muttered to himself, exhaling the smoke into the night.

He thought about leaving, about turning around and disappearing into the night like he always did. But something kept him rooted to the spot, his feet refusing to move. He couldn’t keep running forever.

With a sigh, he flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot. Then, before he could change his mind, he made his way up the stairs to your door. His heart was pounding in his chest, a feeling he wasn’t used to, a feeling he didn’t like.

He raised his hand to knock, but before he could, the door swung open, and there you were. You froze for a moment, your eyes widening in surprise as you took in the sight of him standing there, looking as conflicted as you felt.

“Remy,” you breathed, the hurt still lingering in your voice, but something else was there too—something softer, something that made his chest tighten.

“Chère,” he said softly, his voice rougher than usual. “I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, your eyes searching his for a long moment. “Sorry for what, Remy? Sorry for leaving? Sorry for making me feel like I wasn’t enough?”

He winced at your words, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For pushing you away when I should’ve held on tighter.”

Your gaze softened, but the hurt was still there, lingering just beneath the surface. “Why did you do it, Remy? Why did you leave?”

He looked away, unable to meet your eyes as he struggled to find the right words. “Because I was scared,” he admitted, his voice low. “I’ve always been good at keeping things casual, at not letting anyone get too close. But with you…it was different. You were different. And that scared the hell outta me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe as you listened to him. “So, you ran,” you said, your voice laced with a bitterness you couldn’t hide.

He nodded, finally looking back at you. “I thought it would be easier. I thought I could just walk away and forget about you, but…I can’t. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t want to.”

There was a long silence as you both stood there, the weight of his words hanging between you. You wanted to believe him, to forgive him, but the pain he had caused you still lingered, a wound that hadn’t fully healed.

“Why now, Remy?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why come back now?”

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “Because I can’t keep running,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your skin. “And because I love you, chère. I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, but I was too damn stubborn to admit it.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart pounding in your chest as you searched his eyes. You could see the sincerity there, the vulnerability that he so rarely showed. But still, the hurt lingered, a reminder of the pain he had caused.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

He nodded, his hand dropping to his side as he took a step back. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I don’t blame you for feeling that way. But I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m just asking for a chance—a chance to prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

You looked at him, your emotions swirling inside you like a storm. You wanted to believe him, wanted to give him that chance, but you were scared. Scared of getting hurt again, scared of letting him back in only to have him leave again.

But as you stood there, looking into his eyes, you realized something. You still loved him. Despite everything, despite the pain and the hurt, you still loved him. And maybe that was enough—at least for now.

“Okay,” you said softly, taking a deep breath. “One chance, Remy. But if you hurt me again…”

“I won’t,” he said quickly, his voice filled with determination. “I swear, chère, I won’t.”

You nodded, stepping back to let him inside. As he crossed the threshold, he reached out to take your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead.

You closed your eyes, leaning into him as he pulled you into his arms. The road ahead was uncertain, but for now, you were willing to take that chance. Because in the end, love was always a gamble—a game of chance that sometimes paid off in ways you never expected.

[parasiticstars]

Hey whumpblr I know you love and worship writing-prompt-s but they joined the bandwagon on mass reporting Palestinian accounts

Get 90s-ghost’s name out of your mouth; he’s human, he might make mistakes, but from what’s been shared on @ el-shab-hussein’s account, the vetting process is intense and leaves little room for deception.

I feel like most of y’all only care about Palestine when the people suffering are faceless, perfect victims, so poor and stupid and in need of a white savior they can’t possibly have their own thoughts and inner world and technology. All they should be to you is like those inspiration porn Starving Kids In Africa™.

As if them using a website they don’t know about in a language they have to machine translate and whole ass begging for donations isn’t bad enough.

Yes, there are scammers profiting off of a real time tragedy, but guess what? Guess fucking what? It’s pretty easy to check for yourself if a fundraiser is legit.

Anyways! A PSA!

You can easily check asks and fundraisers in your inbox by checking for their social media accs, which should definitely be older than their tumblr, searching their usernames on here and seeing if others have called them out, checking for their names on Strawberry Seed Collective, Operation Olive Branch, and this document, and going through their tumblr account and looking for stuff like frequent updates and news that’s not just a couple of super popular Palestinian news posts to pad out the blog length, reverse searching any pics they send, and copy pasting some of their story to see if other accounts have used their script.

Or you could also just ignore the asks either way since nobody’s can force you to donate anyways.

But don’t go out and accuse every single Palestinian on tumblr of being part of some massive fucking scam circle a lá “The Jews Are Controlling The Rich” conspiracy.

frankly, the biggest scammer is this one woman from Belgium (her first name is Laura) so I’d be wary of any based in Belgium unless you can find any other way to prove its validity.

[wintergrofyuri]

rapid fire voice/vessel yuri for your consideration

hero/eotn. noble knight and fierce dragon but they smooch instead. also i want him to be bridal carried please and thank you

fury/smitten. i. ok listen. listen to me. fury has this sort of self hatred thing going on. and i think smitten could help her take back her confidence. i think she deserves someone to kiss the ground she walks on.

prisoner/cold. idk. i think theyd like sitting quietly together. ofc, cold would Hate just staring at a wall for who knows how long in complete silence, so i see it more like. when cold is overstimulated he seeks her out for comfort. also he can take a nap on her.

contrarian/tower. dominance and rebellion. feared ruler with an iron fist and the royal jester. i guess this is less of a romantic ship bc we Know contra's thoughts on tower. i just want to put them in the same room together. like tom and jerry.

broken/cage. im NOT explaining this one you can get broken in cage. you see the vision. and if you dont. idk die abt it or smth.

wild/opportunist. i know The opportunist ship is witch or wraith but what about the other w. wild. its just a very soft and intimate chapter. i just like when the princess interacts with the voices ok.

cold/every ghost (spectre, the greys, wraith). 😁. thats it thanks.

damsel/hero/smitten. CURVE BALL. 1 vessel 2 voices. but its less. damsel in the middle and more hero in the middle ykno. smitten and damsel walking out of a room with a few lipstick marks on them, a few minutes later hero stumbling out of the same room, fucking Covered in them. do you see it. i know you do.

also b4 you ask, yes im still planning to go through all the ship asks in my inbox. i just needed hero/needle out in the open. its so beautiful. there are tears in my eyes.

[delicateperspective]

Are you new here? How long have you been in the fandom?

tl;dr - I've been a fan since 2011 but this blog and me using my voice within the fandom is a newer thing.

I guess now is as good as time as any to tell my story. I didn't think anyone really cared... but if you're asking :)

I am an ancient forgotten relic from a teenage adolecence spent on SuperWhoLockian tumblr. By 2010, I was obsessed with everything British. My friends were too.

I was ALSO an 18 year-old single mom who had just moved into a big city to work as an admin at a recording studio and had dreams of becoming a songwriter.

It was a natural progression to fall in love with One Direction as a whole from where I was in life. I can't tell you exactly when I started paying more attention to Larry but by the end of 2011, I was all in.

But quietly. I never felt like I had anything to bring to the conversation. There were much smarter, much more talented people keeping the conversation going. And I spent most of my time working and trying to survive rather than being a large part of the fandom.

By 2015 when the band split, I'd decided that the songwriting thing wasn't going to work out. I took everything that I learned from watching 1D and Harry&Louis very closely and translated that into obtaining a second degree in Marketing/Public Relations. Once I had that, I started working in the book industry. (I can almost completely thank Harry, Louis (and one other famous celebrity that I won't name) for the hyperfixation that lead to my career)

For a decade I watched from just outside the fandom lines. I had my favorite blogs bookmarked and would check to see what the boys were up to. I streamed all the solo stuff. I bought the merch (I'm currently wearing a LTWT shirt haha). I wached every interview. I made friends with people in the fandom but only in my own head because they didn't know I existed.

I was a friendly ghost stalking around, afraid of being seen, not being sure there was anything I could bring to the table that wasn't already here. (And I promise there have to be hundreds more like me out there. They are watching, just not brave enough or have time enough to speak.)

As a way to deal with my own greif from Liam, I started a very cannon-compliant fic (I'd never written fanfiction before. But I burnt myself out on writing formulaic romance for profit and needed something JUST FOR ME that I could never try to publish to break myself out of the hole). This required me to search high and low for some of the media I remember consuming over the years to refresh my memory. As I did, I realized how much was being lost at an incredibly alarming rate.

That's how I met @fookinhellcurlyyy and then later @tonix3. These two, along with several others who always have such nice things to say and thank me for my stance on things, have helped give me the bravery to keep putting my posts out there when antis attack my inbox and when it all feels too overwhelming.

[khaoala]

I think Kant would have gotten far less criticism or hatred if KantBison were not being shoved into our throat. Like, clearly the showmakers want us to root for KB, everyone from Style to Cop Chris saying how Kant has fallen for Bison yada yada but at the same time Kant casually talks about Bison, the supposed love of his life, getting shot dead or spending his entire life in prison....without any sign of pain in his voice or face...like he's talking about mildly uncomfy weather.

This is clearly a narrative problem but it does make viewers frustrated and Kant's character has to bear the brunt of this narrative folly. I am very sure if the narrative made it clear from the start that KB are not, under any condition ending up together, the situation would have been different....but of course gmmtv has to sell their cp (by which I mean cp merch and stuff). The showmakers already have a pair (FadelStyle) that are hitting all the right spots for how a romantic pair should be and they can be easily shown to be having a happily ever after. Ideally they should have kept KantBison 'lovers to enemies' actually ending up as enemies...but well....cp 😒

i'll start this by saying this is the one and only ask with hate for kant/kantbison that i will answer because from your oh so many words, i can already tell you fit into the exact category of people who already made up your mind about the character and nothing i say will change your perception. but bc i'm not feeling like being the bigger person, sure, you wanna talk about this, let's talk about this.

first of all, i wanna talk about your apparent hatred for cps (or maybe it's just fk, we never know) and gmmtv's system, and you know, that's so funny because that's, and i know it'll shock you, their thing😯. so maybe if you didn't want to see that, you shouldn't have started watching the show, even after knowing that the two couples would end up together in the end because guess what, this was advertised as a romcom. and we what do we get with romcoms? exactly, happy endings. a travesty.

i find it so funny when people say fadelstyle are hitting all the spots for a romantic pairing, because that's what's supposed to be (again, a romcom), they are the more traditional romantic storyline (or as traditional as you can get with a killer and a guy who only started hitting on him and continued to do so because he wanted a car) so they are supposed to be hitting those spots. it's their storyline.

see, kantbison hooked up that very first night they met, clear attraction, kant was besotted by his one night stand and was calling him a ghost because bison up and ran before they could wake up together. their first interaction together and it had nothing to do with the police, or lying or manipulating, so maybe it's not a narrative problem that kantbison are "being shoved down our throats" maybe it's just a you problem if you didn't notice what they were being set up to.

and many people have talked about this already, and if you cared to read either liz's or lauren's meta about kant, you wouldn't have come to my inbox complaining about kant not being expressive when he clearly can't let himself feel the things he wants because his priority will always be his brother (just like fadel will prioritize bison always) in contrast to style who doesn't have to carry the responsibility of raising and caring for a younger brother on his shoulders.

and darling, if you started this show thinking at any point, from the trailers, pilot or official, promotional photos, osts, novel, press, anything, that kantbison would not be a thing, again, it's not on them, it's on you and your poor observation skills. there are plenty of people way more qualified than me to talk about this and how kant actually cares for bison, and how he's torn between his heart and his brain, but you don't really care, so why bother.