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st4r-th0ughts · 2 days ago

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Happy birthday, Kakavasha.

masterlist

Aventurine x gn bodyguard reader

series masterlist

recommend to read this

tw/cw: ‘they were roommates that want to make out but are too idiotic to make a move’ ahh, Aventurine has shitty lifestyle habits, this is in the same au as this, the cat cakes are in here and keep jumping both of you, not proofread!

note(s): I should be studying but I love aventurine so it’s ok, tags: @walpurg @rxzennia @sh1-n0bu @honkai-star-thirst (if you want I can add you to a taglist), @briefblazefox (an apology for the angst)

summary: birthdays are a occasion you have never celebrated. But for him, you’ll do anything.

(word count: 1.3k)

ׂ╰┈➤ [𓏵]- your name

The alarm blared you awake as you sit up, your hand fumbling by your bedside for the earring Aventurine had gifted you months ago, before it hits the button on your phone to mute the annoying noise making your hed pound.

Turning the screen to you, the numbers read 7:30 am, a rare timing for you to wake as your usually up and about at 4:00- 4:30am, ready to wake Aventurine at precisely at 6 to start the day.

But, the date reads 5 May. The day of the Kakava, and Sir’s birthday. You know this because he’d mentioned it in passing before, when you were accomapnying him through a mall for his usual shopping sprees, and in a arcade, a birthday party was being held for a young boy.

A girl, perhaps a few years older than him, was standing beside him, cheering him with the boy’s friends while he blew out the candles. You caught a glimpse of Aventurine’s face, how he stares a bit too long at the sibling duo, and how his eyes look fondly at them, and how his smile falters before it cheers up and he looks away again.

You dont know much about Aventurine, in all honesty. You only knew he came from Sigonia, and was possibly one of the last Avgins from his homeplanet, and that was only because late one night, you’d gone back to the IPC’s library to consult the records.

Birthdays were a occasion that was not so revered in Everflame mansion. When you came of age, they were barely acknowleged at all, because such occasions never served your job a purpose.

But when Aventurine first managed to pry that information out of you, your last birthday was him spoiling you 24/7 with lavish gifts and decadent food. Sure, he does it often, but you notice that he’d made the effort to buy you things you want, food you had been dying to taste, unlike the inital gifts where it was more of trying to buy your loyalty.

However, Aventurine is rich. He’s a trillionare, maybe even richer than one, consideirng you watched him spend 3 trillion dollars betting on something against the grey haired trailblazer, while you had a decent income just by being his bodyguard.

Therefore, he is able to buy eveyrthing to your heart’s desire, and by entent, his own. How are you supposed to appease his tatses? All the things you think of buying for him, one, he’d either refund the purchase, or it’s something he has already has or tried before.

The only thing that you can think of, is cooking for him. Aventurine, as extravagent and as expensive his tastebuds are, he has shit eating habits. If he isnt eating out with you or during meetings and events, he practically lives off coffee from the hours he spends in his office, you have to be the one to remind him to eat because at best, he’ll microwave instant noodles or a snadwich. It’s infuriating, because he’s always teasing you for eating badly yourself, yet he doesnt take his own advice.

You wouldnt say you’re great at cooking. Your hands were precise and still, making it easy for things like cracking eggs, and knife skills come in handy when cutting and carving fruits. But other things like perfecting the heat of a pan are not your strong suits. Staring at the recipe page detailing a step by step instruction on how to make pancakes, you stare at the part where they said to seperate the yolks and whites before glancing back at the bowl where you had whisked them both together.

You hope the smell of the failed pancakes that sit on a plate either raw or burnt dont wake up Aventurine. Coupled with his terrible eating habits, he sleeps rather late and gets up early. You’ve never seen him when he just wakes up, but you’ve seen him with dark rims round his eyes, and you’d rather he wake up on his own time. The cats are meowing incessantly at your feet, maybe they’ll serve as his mini alarm clocks with how loud they’re complaining about being hungry.

When 8:15 rolls around, you hear footsteps pattering slugishly down the steps, and a there’s a small smile you quikcly suppress out of instinct. You’re proud of what you have accomplished, a decent breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon that you had pulled out from the forgotten asscrack of the freezer. The unsuccessful pancakes are on your own plate, and the coffee is steaming in his mug.

“[𓏵]? What is…?”

Ah. Groggy and disoriented, it’s rare for you to ever see Aventurine not looking like his usual smug self and ready with his witty quips. The cat cakes meow loudly as they leap to his feet, one of them pawing and prancing at his feet while the other two leap on the kitchen counter to try and cling onto the gambler.

You let yourself smile lightly, grabbing the plate and setting it gently in front of Aventurine, pursing your lips as one of the cat cakes decide to paw at your slippers, the other two still seeking attention while Aventurine pets them. His pyjamas are loose, and his neck and part of his chest are exposed. You watch as he snags a strawberry slice into his mouth, watching his eyes open from the sweetness.

“I thought you’d be hungry.”

You mutter awkwardly, cringing internally at the shit conversation starter, sighing as you scratch the back of your neck, your eyes softening as you gaze at Aventurine, who is looking at the food with a suprised look, which doesnt surprise you entirely, you know part of his past, he’d probably never had much of a decent breakfast, much less have anyone make some for him.

“It’s your birthday, you told me back in December when we were shopping.”

Aventurine’s gaze tilts to face you, his stunned expression sticking as his mouth opens in silence. No one has truly knows his birthday, save for a few like Topaz and Ratio, who send him birthday texts and leave gifts on his office desk. But he’s used to having a silent birthday, just buying a small cake and with only the cats to keep him company on the very day where his life went downhill.

“I dont celebrate birthdays often, I… actually dont think I’ve had one myself until you bothered to smother me with gifts and extravagence.”

You sigh, standing awkwardly agsint the counter as you stare at the floor, blinking as one of the cat cakes stare back with big, googly eyes that make it seem like they have absolutely no thoughts in thier eyes, unlike you, because there are thousands of thoughts racing through your mind.

The man cuts off your thoughts as he stands up, walking towards you and wrapping hesitant arms around you, and the warmth of his body, the proximity makes your face heat up, stiffening as your right arm gently wraps around Aventurine, your palm finding his waist as you lock eyes.

“Aventurine-”

“Kakavasha.”

He interupts you, pulling away from the hug while you’re internally dissapointed at the lack of warmth, your eyes making contact as the blond gazes at you with a soft, grateful look as he smiles, a genuine one.

“My name is Kakavasha, [𓏵].”

After a few moments of silence, you nod. The morning light bounces off Kakavasha’s face, making him impossibly handsome in the bright light, his hair is accentuated by the warm shine, your heart races faster as your hand finds his.

“Yes, of course, sir.”

You murmur softly, the cats yowling wildly in thier protest of not being fed, and Kakavasha laughs as one of them pounced on the counter and smushes thier way between you, the other two trying to accompany it.

“Happy birthday, Kakavasha.”

#ᯓ★ sfw!#aventurine x y/n #honkai star rail aventurine #aventurine x you #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #hsr #sub aventurine #sub hsr

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velarisdusk · 22 hours ago

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The Force That Binds

Azriel x Reader

Day 3: Fate / Choice @sjmxreaderweek summary: Under the glow of Starfall, fate calls—but you don't answer. Azriel reaches for it, the bond thrumming between you, waiting. But the night is long, and you don't reach back. word count: 4.9k content: [ explicit language, alcohol (drinking, intoxication), verbal conflict, physical conflict (grabbing, restraint, mentions of bruising), emotional distress, toxic relationship dynamics ] author's note: this doesnt have anything to do with the main point of this fic but like,, man i'd LOVE to go clubbing with the IC they'd be so fun bruh especially drunk like come on (oh also i know they dont have speakers and subwoofers in prythian but suspend your disbelief for a bit pls thank u)

The night hums with life, thick with the scent of spiced wine and citrus, undercut by the faint acrid bite of burning cedar. Laughter spills through the streets, and the sky glows with distant light, only hours away from the celestial dance of spirits streaking across the heavens. Feyre’s laughter is bright as she spins beneath the starlight, the fabric of her dress catching the glow, shimmering like mist scattered in the wind.

It’s the kind of night that’s meant for forgetting. And maybe, just maybe, for a little while, you can forget, too.

But the air around you isn’t only filled with laughter. There’s an unmistakable weight pressing at the edges of your awareness, thick and inescapable. A presence that lingers, that clings to your skin like an unseen touch.

Azriel.

His shadows shift with restless energy, moving with a mind of their own, as if mirroring the tension coiled within him. Even when your back is turned, even when you’re wrapped up in conversation with Feyre or Mor, you can feel the weight of his stare—unwavering, unrelenting.

The bond hums between you, a quiet, insistent thing. A tether neither of you asked for. It’s been like this for months, this fragile, volatile limbo between what you are and what you refuse to acknowledge. And you hate it. Hate the way it’s changed everything. Hate the way it’s changed him.

Azriel was your friend. Once. The one who would stand beside you in silence when words weren’t needed, the one who knew you better than you knew yourself. There were no expectations, no need to define what you had. He was your constant, your anchor in all the ways that mattered.

But now?

Now, he’s your mate.

And you never wanted a mate. Never wanted to be bound to anyone, least of all him—someone who deserves more than what you’re willing to give. You’ve tried to push it down, bury it, ignore the way it pulls at you in quiet moments, but it’s always there. A whisper in the back of your mind. A weight in your chest. A force neither of you knows how to handle.

Feyre’s fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you into the crowd, into the music thrumming through the courtyard. “Come on,” she urges, her smile wide, breathless from laughter. “You’ve been in your head all night.”

The music vibrates beneath your skin, the press of bodies around you a blur of movement and heat. Mor twirls, golden hair catching in the glow of the lanterns strung high above, her eyes flashing with mischief as she winks at you.

You lift your drink to your lips, the golden burn curling through your veins, smoothing the jagged edges of your thoughts. You let it anchor you here, in this moment, where nothing exists beyond the steady pulse of the music and the warmth of your friends at your side.

For a little while, you let yourself believe it’s enough.

You dance. You laugh. You feel the weight of the night wrap around you like silk, thick with starlight and the taste of freedom. But even as you move, even as you lose yourself in the rhythm, you feel his gaze like a phantom touch against your spine.

Watching. Waiting.

You exhale, tilting your head back, willing the weight of him away.

Mor slides an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “You’re thinking too much again,” she teases, voice loud over the music.

Feyre laughs, nudging you playfully. “Don’t tell me you’re getting all broody on us. That’s Az’s job.”

It’s meant as a joke—harmless, lighthearted—but something in your chest tightens anyway. You force a smirk, shaking your head. “Please,” you scoff, taking another sip of your drink. “I’d sooner let Cassian style my hair.”

Laughter rings out around you, bright and easy. Mor says something that gets lost in the music, but you catch the tail end of it before she walks away—something about finding someone to take home tonight.

And then—

“Did I hear my name?”

Cassian’s voice, warm and amused, cuts through the haze. He steps into the circle, the starlight catching on the sharp planes of his face. His shirt is undone at the collar, his hair mussed like he’s already spent hours reveling in the night’s festivities. He looks every bit the warrior at ease—grinning, easygoing, utterly in his element.

He arches a brow, smirking as he rakes a hand through his hair. “For the record, I’d do a fantastic job with your hair.”

Feyre snorts. “You’d have her looking like she flew through a storm.”

Cassian gasps, appalled. “I’ll have you know, my braiding skills are unmatched.”

“Oh, that’s true,” Feyre muses, tilting her head. “You did do a great job on that doll’s hair for Nyx.”

You blink. “Wait. You braid Nyx’s dolls’ hair?”

Cassian glares at Feyre like she’s betrayed him. “That was classified information.”

Laughter spills from your lips before you can stop it, warmth spreading through your chest, untangling something tight within you.

Cassian lifts his drink, swirling the deep amber liquid. “Wanna try?”

You nod and eagerly take the straw between your lips, pulling a slow sip. The smoky burn lingers on your tongue, and you hum in approval. But the moment it settles in your stomach, something shifts.

Not around you—within you.

A sharp tug in your chest. Low, insistent. A flare of heat threading through your veins.

Not yours.

You don’t have to look to know. You can feel it through the bond—the taut pull of something dark and possessive tightening like a vice.

But you don’t react. Don’t let it show.

Instead, you grin at Cassian, nudging him with your elbow. “Okay, that’s really good. You have to take me to the bar and order me one.”

Cassian throws an arm around your shoulders, steering you toward the glowing bar across the courtyard. “Let’s get you properly set up, then.”

You glance toward Feyre, to ask if she’s coming along, only to find herself wrapped in Rhys’ arms, moving in a way you’ve never seen her dance before. He stands behind her, hands splayed low on her hips, guiding her in slow, teasing movements that match the rhythm of the music. Feyre’s head tilts back against his shoulder, her parted lips curving in a breathless laugh—one Rhys claims in an instant, pressing his mouth to hers over her shoulder. It isn’t sweet. It isn’t chaste. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the world shrink to a single point, one that burns low and deep.

You smirk, shaking your head as you turn back to Cassian. “Never mind. I don’t think she’ll be joining us.”

Cassian follows your gaze and groans, exasperated. “Every damn year.” He gestures vaguely at the display. “Like clockwork. I swear they do this just to remind the rest of us that we’re single.”

You snort, letting him lead you through the crowd, where the air is thick with heat, laughter, and the heady haze of alcohol. The energy is electric, a pulse thrumming beneath the revelry. You should be caught up in it, thinking only of the next drink, the next joke, the next dance.

But that pull—that dark, furious thing—only tightens.

At the bar, Cassian leans an elbow against the counter, signaling the bartender with an easy flick of his fingers and ordering before turning to you. “I’m surprised Mor hasn’t dragged you onto the dancefloor yet,” he muses, swirling his drink. “Must be waiting for the right moment.”

You huff a laugh, pressing your back against the bar’s edge. “Oh, she’ll get her turn. I just needed reinforcements first.”

Cassian grins as the bartender slides a drink toward you. “One for the troublemaker,” he says, lifting his own glass in a mock toast.

You take a sip but hesitate as a better idea takes hold.

Glancing at the bartender, you nod toward the rows of bottles behind her. “Four shots, please. Dealer’s choice.”

Her brows rise. “You sure?”

Cassian chuckles, giving you a pointed look. “You sure?”

You scowl at both of them. “Absolutely.”

The bartender just shrugs and starts pouring. Four shots—each different, each unknown. One a deep amber, another crystal clear, the third an ominous shade of red, the last dark as ink. You slide two toward Cassian and keep the safer-looking ones for yourself.

He eyes the red one warily. “That looks like something that should be in a cauldron, not a glass.”

You smirk. “Only one way to find out.”

He shakes his head, laughing. “Well, at least Mor and I still have a reliable drinking partner.”

You raise your glass. “Cheers to that.”

You each tap your glass to the bar and knock the first shot back. It burns, coiling deep in your stomach before unfurling through your veins. Cassian curses as he slams his own back, shaking his head like a dog ridding itself of water.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “That one had a bite.”

You barely pause before reaching for your second. This one is smoother—almost sweet. You hardly have time to process it before Cassian downs his own, grunting at the taste.

You reach for your mixed drink to chase it down, but before you can take a sip, Cassian’s hand closes around your wrist.

“Whoa,” he laughs. “Take a second. Can’t have you dying on me yet.”

You scowl, but he only grins, nudging your shoulder as the warmth spreads through your limbs like honey.

And gods, you feel good.

Weightless. Buzzing with something electric and bright. The music shifts, fast and reckless, and suddenly—

“I gotta go,” you announce, setting your drink down with an unceremonious thunk.

Cassian raises a brow. “Uh, go where?”

You don’t answer, already turning away. “You can have my drink!”

It takes only seconds to find Mor and Feyre, arms raised, their laughter lost in the pounding bass. You launch yourself into the fray, draping yourself over Mor’s back and squeezing her shoulders.

She shrieks, spinning to face you. “There you are!”

“There I am!” you echo, throwing your hands up like you’ve just made a grand entrance.

Mor cheers, lifting her drink, while Feyre yanks you in and presses a loud, exaggerated kiss to your cheek.

The beat surges, and you move together, limbs loose, movements wild. Mor twirls you beneath her arm, and you take the opportunity to swat at her ass, grinning when she gasps in mock outrage. Feyre cackles, spinning around you both, her golden hair whipping in the night air.

Somewhere in the blur of laughter and bodies, Rhys appears, smirking as he steps into your space, catching your hands and pulling you into the rhythm. It’s effortless—playful, nothing but a game between friends, yet tinged with the same untamed energy coursing through the revelers. His grin is infectious as he twirls you like it’s some grand, gilded affair.

Behind him, Feyre and Cassian spin like fools, bumping into people, laughing like nothing exists beyond this moment.

And gods, you are so fucking drunk.

The world blurs, bright and dizzy, your body weightless, your limbs slow to follow your mind’s commands. The music isn’t just something you hear—it pulses through you, surging like it’s in your blood.

The ground tilts slightly as you throw your hands up, spinning beneath the lights. When you stumble, Mor is there, steadying you.

And then, somehow, you’re in Cassian’s arms.

Feyre twirls away, laughter ringing like a bell as she falls into her mate’s waiting hands. Rhys pulls her close, hands sweeping over her waist, guiding her in an intimate, languid sway.

Cassian’s hold on you is far steadier, his wide palms bracing you against him as you slump into his chest.

“Woah,” he chuckles, adjusting his grip. “I think you might be done, sweetheart.”

You laugh, the sound loose and uninhibited, tipping your head back to grin up at him. “No way. I can totally keep going.”

“Sure you can,” he drawls, guiding your movements with steady hands, keeping the momentum alive between you—more importantly keeping you upright. And you let yourself sink into the moment, losing track of time, losing yourself in the reckless abandon thrumming through your veins.

You are free.

You are untouchable.

And you don’t give a single damn about anything else.

Not the spirits that will streak across the sky at any moment.

Not the jealous, burning gaze you can feel searing into you from across the courtyard.

A warm hand slides around your waist, and suddenly, you’re moving.

Cassian is leading you out of the sea of bodies, his grip firm but careful as he steers you toward the courtyard’s edge, where the night air is cooler.

“Come on,” he says, steadying you. “Let’s get you some water before you end up passed out in some stranger’s lap.”

You roll your eyes but let him guide you, inhaling deeply as the cool air rushes over your skin. “I wasn’t that bad,” you argue, still grinning.

Cassian snorts. “You were a second away from needing me to carry you.”

The air shifts. Thickens.

It’s not a shadow that moves first—it’s silence. A weighted, oppressive thing slipping into the space between you and Cassian like a tide creeping in unnoticed.

Then, a familiar presence steps into your periphery.

Azriel.

He doesn’t speak at first. Doesn’t rip you away. Doesn’t bare his teeth in anger. He simply stands there, dark and unmoving, his expression unreadable.

And yet, there’s something in the way he looks at Cassian—at the arm still braced around your waist—that makes the moment stretch too long, too tense.

Cassian notices it, too. His body tenses, just slightly, though his face remains neutral. He doesn’t let go. Not yet.

Azriel’s gaze flickers to you, then back to Cassian. And when he finally speaks, his voice is calm. Deceptively so.

“I’ve got her.”

A simple statement. No heat, no open challenge. Yet it lands with weight.

Cassian’s hand lingers at your waist for a heartbeat longer than necessary, his eyes locking with Azriel’s. There’s no mistaking the silent exchange between them, an unspoken language of veterans. It’s brief, but it speaks volumes.

Then, with a small sigh, Cassian lets go, his hand sliding away and bracing you by the arm. But as soon as he steps back, Azriel’s hand is there, firm but not harsh—just…certain. Like he’d always known he would be the one to hold you up.

Cassian’s jaw tightens, his eyes softening only slightly with concern. “You good?” he murmurs, looking down at you with a mix of protective affection and something unreadable.

You blink, the fog of alcohol clouding your senses. “I—yeah, I’m fine,” you reply. It’s Azriel. He wouldn’t hurt you.

Cassian doesn’t look entirely convinced, but his lips curl into a tight, reassuring smile before he shifts his gaze to Azriel. A silent assessment takes place—measuring, weighing, understanding. Then, with a reluctant nod, he turns, walking back into the crowd.

For a long moment, it’s just the hum of music in the distance, the cool air against your skin, and the press of Azriel’s hand, still firmly around your waist. The sound of laughter fades as he leads you away from the revelry, his pace unhurried, but purposeful. No words. Just his presence, a steady force pulling you in the direction he chooses.

There’s no urgency in his movements—no dragging or forcing. He isn’t trying to control you. Azriel’s simply walking, taking you with him.

Whatever is simmering beneath that unreadable gaze of his, it’s not meant for anyone but you.

Azriel’s grip is unyielding as he walks you away from the lights, the laughter, the chaos of the celebration. The street grows quieter with each step, empty save for the occasional flicker of lanterns overhead. The cobblestones beneath your feet are silent, untouched by the madness of the party.

You stumble slightly, your world tilting in a way that has nothing to do with the ground beneath you. Azriel steadies you, the small action somehow grounding in its quiet steadiness. You want to say something—maybe apologize, maybe thank him—but the moment is too heavy, and the words never come.

That is, until you hear the sharp inhale through his nose.

“You think I don’t see it?” His words hang in the air, sharp with a simmering tension you can feel winding tighter by the second. The frustration—no, the fury—carries through the bond, evident in every syllable. You’ve felt it all night, a tension brewing, waiting to explode.

You blink, fighting to focus. “What?” you ask, your thoughts still muddled by the alcohol fogging your mind.

Azriel stops walking, the sudden stillness of the moment sending a jolt through you. His hand tightens ever so slightly at your waist before he releases you, stepping back. His wings flicker in the air behind him, a brief, irritated flare before they tuck back in.

“All night,” he says, his voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “You’ve been avoiding me. Running to Cassian. To Rhys. To Feyre. To Mor.” He clenches his jaw, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. “Anyone but me.”

You stare at him, disbelief flashing through you. The accusation is absurd—entirely misplaced. Before you can stop it, a laugh bubbles up from deep in your chest, not out of humor, but out of sheer confusion. “Azriel,” you start slowly, shaking your head as you try to make sense of it, “they’re my family just as much as they are yours.”

His eyes darken, anger flickering beneath something pleading. “And what am I?” His voice is dangerous now—low, thick with the weight of his question.

You falter, something in your chest tightening at the way he says it, at the way it makes everything inside you recoil. But you’re drunk, and you’re tired, and this is not the fight you’re willing to pick right now.

So you roll your eyes, dismissing the entire conversation with a flick of your hand as you step back. “You’re being ridiculous—”

Before you can move further, he’s in front of you, close—too close. The shadows at his feet flare, as if they, too, feel the surge of his frustration. “Am I?” The words are quiet, lethal, his gaze burning into yours. “Because it sure as hell looked like you’d rather be with anyone but me tonight.”

Your frustration flares up, finally breaking through the haze of alcohol. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Azriel,” you snap, the words coming out sharper than you expect. “I wasn’t with Cassian to avoid you. I was having fun.”

His nostrils flare as he takes a step closer. “You were draped over him.”

“I’m fucking drunk,” you retort, barely able to keep your balance. “And he was making sure I didn’t fall on my ass. And even if I wanted to drape myself over him, why do you care?”

That muscle in his jaw tightens, but this time, there’s a flicker of something dangerous deep within his eyes. He looks at you like he doesn’t know whether he wants to argue or shake you, whether he wants to step closer or disappear altogether.

“I care,” he grits out, “because you’re mine.”

The words land like a blow to the chest, hard and raw. Suddenly, you don’t feel so drunk anymore. The fog of alcohol clears, and the weight of his words presses down on you—crushing. You open your mouth to respond, but no sound comes.

Before you can gather your thoughts, Azriel is closing the distance between you, his presence looming. “You don’t get it, do you?” His voice is quieter now, but it burns with the intensity of something long buried. “You’ve been avoiding me all night, and for what? Because you don’t want to acknowledge that we’re meant to be together? Because you think this—” He gestures forcefully between the two of you, fingers twitching before curling into fists, “—this bond means nothing?”

You flinch, the sharp sting of his words cutting through you. But even in your intoxicated state, a part of you knows better. You weren’t avoiding him. But now, everything about his anger—the way it wraps around you, suffocates you—makes you want to shout back. So you do. You force the words through your lips, your voice shaking with a mix of confusion and indignation.

“Azriel, I don’t want to be fucking owned,” you say, your voice shaking with confusion and indignation. But your words are firm. “I’m not some possession to be paraded around just because we share a bond.”

Azriel’s eyes darken, and the shadows at his feet stir—then rise, twisting around him, around you, curling over his shoulders and slipping past your skin like a phantom touch. They coil in the air between you, restless, untamed, a mirror of the storm in his voice. “I would treat you well,” he says, voice rough with conviction. “We were family before the bond snapped into place. Just imagine what we could be now.”

Your heart aches at his words, at the rawness in his eyes, but something else rises in your chest—a knot of confusion and frustration too tangled to sort through.

“I’m not afraid,” you say, though even to your own ears, it sounds thin and uncertain.

Azriel doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze remains fixed on you, and for a long moment, the two of you simply stand in the quiet, the only sound between you the distant hum of music, the breeze stirring the air.

When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, but no less intense. “You’re afraid of what it means, what this bond means… what we mean.” His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “And that’s fine. But don’t think for a second that it doesn’t gut me.”

A slow breath shudders through you. “I know it hurts.” The admission barely carries past your lips. “I’m sorry, Azriel. I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t—” A breath. Then, quieter—“I don’t see you the way you see me.”

His body goes rigid. The flickering shadows at his feet recoil, the lash out, mirroring the sudden storm in his expression. “You don’t see me the way I see you?” His voice is taut, fraying at the edges. “You think I wanted this? That I asked for it?” His wings shift, the tension coiling through him visible in every sharp line of his stance. “But you—you’re the one who can’t even acknowledge what we are. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away.”

He steps forward, his hands flexing at his sides. “You’re being selfish,” he spits, the words sharp like daggers. “Ungrateful.” The word lands heavily between you. “This bond—this mating—it was decided long before either of us had a say. It’s the Mother’s will. And you think you can just ignore it? You think you can treat me like this and I’ll just stand by?”

The air tightens as he takes another step, crowding the space you have left. His scent—leather, cold steel, and the sting of smoke—clings to the air, sharper now with the unmistakable bite of alcohol. The realization slithers through you too late.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to protect you,” he murmurs, his tone turning something bitter. “The one who’s meant to be at your side, to be with you. And you—” His gaze hardens. “You’ve been treating it like some kind of fucking joke.”

Your breath comes unsteadily. “Azriel—”

He doesn’t let you finish. “You think I’ll just let you walk away from this?” His voice is quiet, lethal in its certainty.

Your instinct flares—too much, too fast. You take a step back.

His hand closes around your wrist before you can move any further. Not gentle. Not cruel, either. Just—unrelenting.

“You’re not going to walk away,” he says, as if speaking it aloud will make it true. His fingers tighten when you try to pull free, his grip firm as iron. “Not when we both know what this is. What we could have.”

Your pulse jumps. “Az, stop.”

He doesn’t. “I care about you,” he says instead, his voice fraying. “I always have. And you—” He exhales sharply, his free hand catching your arm now, holding you in place. “You don’t get to pretend this doesn’t exist.”

Before you can react, you’re being yanked forward—too fast, too rough. His strength is undeniable, unrelenting, as he pulls you up against him with such force that the breath punches from your lungs. His shadows stir, restless and volatile. The sudden impact sends your already unsteady world reeling, your hands shoving at his chest again, but he doesn’t let up. One of his hands leaves your arm only to grab your jaw, his fingers pressing into your skin, forcing you to look up at him. His grip isn’t just firm—it’s bruising.

“You don’t get to stand there and pretend this means nothing,” he grits out, voice shaking with something too tangled to name—anger, desperation, something else. “Not after everything.” His fingers tighten, his thumb barely skimming your throat. “You think you can just ignore it? Ignore me?”

Your pulse thrums wildly beneath his touch, fear threading through your veins. “Azriel, stop,” you breathe, trying to jerk your head away, but he doesn’t let go.

“You have no fucking idea what this feels like,” he snarls. “To have something that’s supposed to be yours, something that the Mother herself decided—and to have it ripped away because you refuse to open your goddamn eyes.”

The pressure of his fingers against your jaw makes it hard to breathe, panic clawing up your throat as his body cages you in, his wings stretching wide, his presence all-consuming. This isn’t Azriel. Not the one you know.

With all the strength you can muster, you shove at him again, twisting in his hold. “You don’t own me, Azriel!” The words rip from your throat, sharp and furious. And for the first time, a crack forms in his expression, raw and wounded. His grip falters just slightly, and you take the chance—ripping your face from his grasp, twisting against the hold he still has on your arm as you pant through the fear gripping your chest. “You’re hurting me,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “Do you even realize that? Do you even care?”

Azriel stills. The shadows recoil.

It takes a second—one breath, then another—before his fingers loosen the slightest bit, before the haze in his expression clears enough for recognition to settle in. The realization of what he’s done, of the line he’s already crossed.

And then—

“Azriel. Let her go.”

Rhysand’s voice cuts through the night, even and quiet, but sharp as a blade.

Azriel doesn’t turn. His free hand flexes at his side, his breath unsteady.

Another voice follows—low, warning. “Az.” Cassian.

You see the moment it truly hits him. The realization. The horror. His grip loosens, his hands falling away from you completely, as if burned. His breath comes fast and uneven, his shadows trembling at his feet.

You stagger back the moment you can. Your arms sting where his fingers had pressed, but you resist the urge to cradle them, to rub away the lingering sting. Your breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you recoil. You hold his gaze instead—and Azriel stares at you like he doesn’t recognize himself. His chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, his shadows still writhing at his feet like they don’t know what to do without his command. His lips part, but no words come.

You take another step back. Then another.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper. The words are quiet, but they cut through the space between you like a final severing. “If rejecting the bond wasn’t enough, why would I ever choose to be with someone who thinks they own me? Someone who—who does this?”

Azriel flinches, the words striking deeper than any physical blow. “I don’t—”

“You don’t get to justify it.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

You turn away.

Azriel moves.

It happens in an instant—his wings flaring, his body surging forward, a last desperate attempt to reach you.

But Cassian is there first. He shoves a firm hand against Azriel’s chest, halting him mid-step. The force of it is enough to make him stagger, his teeth bared, his breath coming hard and fast.

Rhys steps in beside them, fury carved into every sharp line of his face. But the authority in his voice is clear. “Enough.”

Something in Azriel’s posture locks. His hands curl into fists at his sides, his shadows writhing, twisting around his feet, but he doesn’t fight. Doesn’t move.

Rhys doesn’t look at him when he speaks again. His attention is on you. “Go find Feyre.”

He’s already reaching for her through the bond. You can tell.

You don’t hesitate. You don’t look back.

Each step away feels heavier than the last, the adrenaline fading, leaving only the bruising weight of everything that has just unraveled between you. Your pulse is still too fast, your skin still stinging where he touched you, but you keep moving.

And then—

You see her.

Feyre stands near the edge of the festivities, scanning the crowd. The moment her eyes find yours, something shifts in her expression. Concern, then something worse.

Pity.

Your throat tightens, and suddenly, the weight of everything crashes down on you all at once.

The last thing you see before the world blurs is Feyre moving toward you, reaching out.

And then, finally—

You let yourself fall.

#sjmxreaderweek #sjmxreaderweek2025 #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfic

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cupcait777 · 2 days ago

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under the bleachers ⋆˚࿔

what starts with one stolen glance across the soccer field turns into a secret-laced spiral of late-night drives, under-the-bleachers kisses, and the kind of love that makes you reckless. in a town that doesn’t understand girls like them, they find freedom in each other—and maybe something like forever. 𔘓 a/n : u cannot tell me rina and nat dont look good tgt... anw part two's here!

practice runs late again.

the sun dipped hours ago, leaving behind that deep navy sky you only ever get in small towns—stars peeking out like a secret, the air sticky with leftover heat and the faint buzz of cicadas that refuse to shut up.

the cheer field is mostly cleared now. you’re still half-sitting on the bleachers, peeling your socks off with a wince. your captain's whistle had been relentless tonight, like she could sense your attention wasn’t fully on the counts. and she’s not wrong. it hasn’t been—not when natalie scatorccio showed up halfway through, smoking by the fence, watching like she was seeing something you didn’t even know you were showing.

you tie your sneakers together by the laces and sling them over your shoulder, letting your hair down as you walk toward the side exit. your phone buzzes once. you already know who it is.

nat: you done being a triangle formation hostage yet?

you: come rescue me then.

she doesn’t reply.

she’s already leaning against the gate.

natalie’s hoodie is way too big on her—frayed at the cuffs, stained in a couple places, and very clearly not hers originally. her hair’s in a loose ponytail, strands falling out around her face like she tried and gave up halfway through. she looks like mischief and maybe a little like she walked off the cover of a 90s alt-rock album.

she smirks when she sees you. “cheer practice, huh?”

you blink at her. “you were literally watching me for the last hour.”

“still felt like a hostage situation.”

you laugh, and it’s a little breathless. “you here to escort me or insult me?”

natalie shrugs. “can’t i do both?”

you roll your eyes and start walking. she falls into step beside you without asking, kicking pebbles down the street like she’s got nowhere better to be. you know that’s probably true.

the walk home is quieter than usual. not uncomfortable—just thoughtful. you can hear the distant thump of some garage band trying to play nirvana, the far-off bark of a dog, the gravel crunching under your shoes. natalie keeps glancing at you, like she wants to say something but isn’t sure if she should ruin the moment.

you beat her to it.

“you ever gonna let me wear your jersey on game day?”

she gives you a look. “you’re a cheerleader. don’t you already have a uniform?”

“that’s not the point.”

“oh? what is the point, then?”

you smirk. “maybe i want the whole school to know i’m off-limits.”

natalie blinks, then tilts her head, considering you. “you think i need to mark my territory or something?”

you shrug, all fake-casual. “no. but i think it’d be kinda hot if you did.”

she stares at you. her mouth opens like she’s about to say something sarcastic, but instead she laughs—really laughs, head thrown back, teeth showing, no filter. you decide right then you’d say something dumb every day just to hear that again.

“you’re such a dork,” she mutters, kicking at the dirt. “you and your lip gloss and your matching socks and your goddamn ribbon.”

“you like the ribbon,” you say, smug.

“i hate how much i like the ribbon,” she mutters.

you bump her shoulder with yours. “then say something nice for once.”

natalie slows down a little. she looks at you—really looks at you. the streetlamp catches the gold in her eyes, and for a second, you swear she’s about to kiss you right there on the sidewalk.

instead, she reaches into her hoodie and pulls out a crumpled pack of gum. she unwraps a piece and hands it to you without a word.

you blink.

“that’s it?” you ask.

natalie nods. “my last piece. don’t say i never do anything for you.”

you put it in your mouth, chewing slowly, and try not to smile like an idiot. ⸝⸝⸝

your street’s quiet when you get there. the lights are off in your dad’s study, which means he’s either passed out or forgot you exist again. either way, it’s fine. it’s not like you brought natalie home to meet the family.

you stop at the gate, turning to face her.

“wanna come over friday? after the game.”

natalie raises a brow. “what kind of invite is that?”

“a soft one.”

she squints. “like a sleepover?”

you shrug. “could be. bring snacks. we’ll listen to van’s mixtape. i’ll wear your jersey.”

her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile. “and if we lose?”

“then i’ll still wear it,” you say. “you’re worth the loss.”

it comes out easier than you expect. natalie flinches like she’s not used to hearing nice things without a punchline. she’s quiet for a second, then steps forward and presses a kiss to your cheek—barely there, but real.

“you’re such a problem,” she says.

“you like that about me.”

she doesn’t deny it.

instead, she grins, and walks backwards a few steps before turning and disappearing into the dark, hoodie flapping behind her like a cape.

⸝⸝⸝

you go inside with a stupid smile and gum in your mouth that tastes like natalie.

she goes home with her hands in her pockets and her heart hammering like a damn drumline.

she already knows she’s in trouble.

and she thinks… maybe that’s not such a bad thing. 𔘓 a/n : the lesbians r getting bolder

part one ⊹ ࣪ ˖ part two ⊹ ࣪ ˖ part three ⊹ ࣪ ˖

#natalie scatorccio #sophie thatcher x reader #yellowjackets x reader #natalie yellowjackets #x reader #cheerleader!reader #wlw #lesbianism #fluff

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reminiscentreader · 2 days ago

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*internal sigh* rant post on lyra hate (again) i guess

first of all i have NO idea what shes done to accumulate all this hate except for ruin a bunch of random peoples parasocial relationships with grayson, these guys are seriously getting worse that the Aaron Warner stans, AND WE DO NOT EXCEPT THAT KIND OF HATE HERE 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️ i think the only way im going to be able to do this is address all the arguments for hating lyra individually. (also i want to say i have no problem with people having there own opinions but when it gets THIS far i feel like i have a duty to say something as a lyra stan)

first i want to talk about her being self absorbed/whiny brat, THIS THING MAKES NO SENSE TO ME, the only people in the series she wwas rude to were people who were rude first. if anything we should have taken that she was kind away from her character, Literally like the first person she meets is odette, WHO SHE TREATS WITH KINDNESS, and then she has a run in with gigi, WHO SHE TREATS WITH KIDNESS, and then she has the avery situation WHERE SHE LITERALLY BECOMES THE #1 AVERY GRAMBS GLAZER, THIS GIRL WAS IN AWE OF HER 😭🙏🙏 and then she dances with xander WHO SHE TREATS WITH KINDNESS, this whole “lyras such a bitch” makes no sense at ALL, especially those people who say “grayson deserved someone like gigi, 🥺🥺.” A- I DONT KNOW IF YOU NOTICED BUT GRAYSON DOES HAVE GIGI, HIS SISTER WHO HE LOVES VERY MUCH. ITS ALMOST AS IF THERE WAS A WHOLE BOOK ABOUT GRAYSON AND GIGI AND B- LYRA WAS GIGI what these people dont understand is that lyra was a COMPLETELY different person back then, she says something about her being the happiest teenage girl. (also people who sooo desperately want grayson to end up with someone “just like gigi” are weirdddd)

next (AND THIS ONE PISSES ME OFF SOOOO MUCH 😓😓😓) “lyra is just an avery copy” GENUINELY STFU, the only thing similar about them is that they were introduced taking a test 😐😐😐, THE GIRLS DONT EVEN LOOK ALIKE?? the way they make desicions and just function in general is so different avery is a very logical person but lyra tends to be more emotional, if you want to compare jlb mfc compare cassie and avery and them sawyer and lyra. Averys main trait is her smartness and intelligence, whereas lyras is her braveness and caringness?? (i have no idea what the plural for caring is) im also gonna branch “grayson could never love anyone as much as avery blah blah 😒.” into this one and let me make this sooo clear. GRAYSON IS NOT ROMANTICALLY IN LOVE WITH AVERY ANYMORE. in fact in the brothers hawthorne, there is a whole chapter where he comes to this realisation. In case any of you missed it heres a direct quote “suddenly since the first time he’d met avery grambs, there was nothing tense or painful about standing this close to her, shed told him once they were family, maybe a part of him had been running from that to.”

anway sorry for the rant guys 🙏🙏

#the brothers hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #avery grambs #nash hawthorne #xander hawthorne #the hawthorne legacy #the hawthorne brothers #grayson hawthorne #the final gambit #the inheritance games #the grandest game #lyra kane

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adonisbeloveds · 9 hours ago

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Hi!! I wanted to ask if i could put in a request, but if ur not comfortable with it, it's okay! You dont have to do it. I was thinking yandere mains angst cuz the reader died and they feel like they failed to protect them. Again, if you're not comfortable with it or just dont want to do it, feel free to decline! there's no pressure on my end. I love ur writing style btw!

Yandere Main Toons with a reader who died.

Okay okay! I hope you mean't the main toons when they weren't twisted, and I LIVE for yandere and angst stuff omg so don't you worry and I'm glad you love my writing style! Also can you guys COUGH guess my fav toon ahahahhaha Reader is GN and uses they/them pronouns, and Vee, Shelly and pebble are all meant to be seen as platonic. Warnings: Yandere behavour ofc, Dandy keeps the readers body (he doesn't do ANYTHING weird with it, he just keeps it), self hatred, mentions of suicide, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

ASTRO

".....you're lying. Sprout please...you're lying.."

.He was in denial for a long while, even though he knew you weren't coming back a small part of him was still hoping, wondering if you were out there -- if you were just hiding and waiting for him to come to you and save you. .He blames himself so much, he knew he shouldn't of stayed back, that he should of convinced you hearder to let him come with others..what if you were nearly at the exit, what if you didn't have enough stamina to make it, if he was there he could of helped you. .What if you were hiding, cornered, crying quietly while you muttered his name -- hoping and praying he would come get you, come help you and make sure you wouldn't die or get hurt, if so why didn't the others help you? why didn't goob pull you close to him why didn't anyone help you. .Maybe you died to get away from him .He still blames himself, he blames himself so badly -- but some of that blame now goes to other toons, more specifically the toons who had the ability to help you.

"Astro, they aren't here anymore! THEY'RE DEAD!" "YOU WERE MEAN'T TO PROTECT THEM! AREN'T YOU THE OVERPROTECTIVE ONE!" .Everything that was in your room he put into his room, even to the smallest piece of paper that had nothing written on it -- and when I say everything I mean everything, even your trash that he never threw out. .He know's it isn't healthy and he knows the other toons are judging his coping ways, he just can't bare the thought of anything you had in your room being taken away. This is what was left of you and he wasn't going to throw it away, no matter how bad or unhealthy it was. .He has started dreaming about you, he use to share dreams with you -- but now he just dreams of you, and he uses these moments to play pretend, even if its for a minute or so. Seeing your smiling and alive face is enough to start fueling his delusions .At first he knew these delusions and dreams were simply that, but over time he started to wonder if this was actually you, that you survived and are still waiting for him out there, waiting for him to save you. .So then on he started his mission, he know's he couldn't protect you in that moment but this time, this time he's going out there and he will bring you home- "No." "What...what do you mean no." "Astro, you aren't in the right mindset to go out on runs. We don't want you to see a twisted version of them and willingly run into the arms of a twisted." "They....they aren't a twisted, they are still alone out there! I know it!"

VEE

"No...no wait WAIT-"

.She witnessed first hand your death, she tried running to you the moment she saw the twisted coming close -- but it got to you before she could, and the worst part is that you smiled. You saw her and you smiled. .Shelly grabbed her arm before dragging her back to the elevator, but all she could think of was the way you smiled at her, not even noticing the thing behind you -- or maybe you did and knew your time was up, and you smiled at her as a way of saying "It wasn't your fault, please don't blame yourself" .You two talked about this, about what would happen if one of you were to die -- and she promised, she promised you that she would always have your back, that you would always be protected and she failed. .Cause that's what she is, a failure. .Who cares if she can sing or host programs or show twisteds by their frequencies, cause what is all that tallent for when she couldn't even keep her promise and protect the closest person to her. .She handled her greif better than the others, she knew that you weren't coming back, no matter what she or the others tried to do. But just because she handled her greif better doesn't mean her coping mechanisms were the same. .She made dolls of you, and used the recordings of your voice to play pretend, even when she was sleeping she would play your voice and pretend you were there -- she would even tweak your voice to say certain things, and she would even listen to breathing to just pretend you were breathing and well. .Unlike the others, she went out on runs still -- but she was silent, only ever tapping her mic before going back to the corner. She couldn't bring herself to leave the foot of the elevator when it closes, especially when she see's your twisted form. .She likes to think she's strong enough to not run to your twisted form, but at this point she doesn't know anymore -- so she doesn't risk it, she just looks down at the ground the two of you use to walk together on and waits, what is she waiting for? .The elevator to open up again, or for a twisted to take her away like it did with you? "soon....soon we will walk the same path like we use to, my show star."

SHELLY

"They....what?"

.She's absolutely devistated when she found out, one of the only people to actually see her and not forget about her was gone. .She loses all her spark that she use to have, and just stays in her room. She can't bear the thought of looking at your room anymore, it only fuels her with fake hope and sadness. .Vee and the others tried to get her to open up about her feelings so she doesn't lock them away but it's already to late -- the only thing she allows herself was one of your plushies that use to be sold in the gift store. .She's cried herself to sleep every night, and usually doesn't talk to anyone, not even pebble or Astro. Astro has tried talking to her about her dreams of you -- and she's tried to tell him but she can never get past a few sobs, and the one time she did she almost threw up. .She blames herself for not being able to help you, but even if she wanted to she wasn't as great as the others -- nor did she have any special abilitys to help you. Leading to a deeper and darker pit of self hatred and pain. .She hasn't even bothered to go out on runs anymore, if she wasn't there to save you, and she can't save anyone with how weak and useless she is, than whats the point of going anywhere any more?

SPROUT

"COSMO, COSMO LET ME GO THEY- THEY ARE STILL OUT THERE! please..."

.He could see you out there, you were running as fast as you could -- but than one of the twisteds rounded the corner and go you -- and he saw it all happen. .When the elevator closed all he could do was go limp as cosmo brought him down to the ground and talked to him? He couldn't hear -- he couldn't see through the tears that he couldn't feel, he couldn't do anything...he didn't feel...there. .Once they arrived at the safe space he just let cosmo bring him to the medic -- he couldn't hear what anyone was saying, all he could do was remember you running, you turning the corner and you dying. .If only he fought cosmo harder, if only he was able to run out there to you, he wouldn't even care if he died because he would of died with you -- you wouldn't of been alone while dying. But that wasn't the case. .Were you calling out to him? Where you calling out to anyone? Did you try to fight or did you accept your death? Oh god he hopes you didn't do either...accepting your death and accepting that no one, not even him could save you -- or fighting until your last moment and hoping someone could come save you, hoping that he would come save you. .He doesn't know what's worse. .His personality took a whole 180 after your death, he usually stayed in your room rather than his own, hugging your pillow and pretending it was you, and that you were still alive with him -- even though he knows the truth .He doesn't have dreams, he's only haunted by nightmares of you dying over and over again -- he has seen the concerned looks Astro gives him whenever he leaves your room, but neither has talked about it .He has a grudge to everyone that was in that run, he not only blames himself but he blames the people that didn't try helping you, he blames cosmo for holding him back, he blames goob for not pulling you in even though you were behind a wall, and most importantly he blames himself for every reason and above. .The others usually hear Sprout talking to himself, crying to himself and so on -- they have noticed sprout not talking to anyone anymore, not even cosmo, and how he usually keeps himself locked away in your room. "I'm going on this run" "No you are not." "Why not." "Cause I don't trust you in this state to take care of yourself."

PEBBLE

"Pebble...they...they aren't coming back"

.Poor thing didn't know how to react, hearing that his favourite caretaker had died, that they weren't coming back to play fetch him with anymore, to sneak treats to him, to cuddle with him after a long day of playing, and how those moments were never going to happen again was heart breaking. .Every toon tried to help Pebble, trying to play with him, giving him treats and everything you use to do with him -- but nothing worked, he always had his tail low and never went on runs anymore, all he did was stay in his caretakers room with tears in his eyes. .Late at night the toons would either hear happy barking, or small whines -- this indicated whether pebble was having a nice dream about his caretaker, or a nightmare. .Even thought he can't talk to any of the toons, it's clear as day the poor thing blames himself for your death. He's usually the distracter yet he wasn't allowed on that run due to hurting his leg previously. "It's okay buddy! When I get back we can sneak some of cosmo and sprouts treats okay?" .Oh how he was waiting so patiently at the elevator door, tail wagging as he watched it ascend only to let out a confuse whine when he didn't see you there -- only to be told that you weren't coming back.. .Pebble has developed a habit of snarling at the toons, even going as far as full on aggressively barking whenever one of them went close to your room .The worst incident was when one of the toons tried to take your stuff out of your room -- it was almost like pebble went full guard dog mode as he harshly bit the poor toons arm, only getting off when their screams alerted the other toons who took him off their arm. When that happened everyone knew not to touch your stuff .Your death must of hurt him so much, enough to cause him to go feral at the even mention of your stuff being taken out of your room.

DANDY

"No...no no no no!"

.This wasn't mean't to happen, you were just talking to him when he came up with his shop -- he sold you med kits and everything....he wanted to deny it so bad but he can't. He watched it happen on his cameras, he watched you die and he couldn't do anything about it. .The moment the elevator left he ran, he ran as fast as he could towards you...maybe just maybe if he made it there in time you would be okay, right? .When he got there he tried to find a pulse or something, from your neck to your wrists to your heart -- he even tried to convince himself that you were breathing still, that your chest was going up and down -- even with how blurry his vision was and how hard his crys were, he wasn't going to leave you. "My flower, shh it's okay my flower, you will be okay I promise -- this is just...just a hiccup okay? I will make everything alright...come on, let's, let's go back home okay?" .You were so limp, he could feel the ichor where the wound was, but he didn't think about it, no. It's because you were....going to be fine, everything will turn out okay in the end and you will wake up and it will be fine. .He bandaged your wound and placed you in his bed, well 'our' bed as he likes to call it, he spoke to you while looking around for papers, papers to help you come back to him -- to help you out of this small hiccup. .And every night he would go back to the bed, get under the covers and fall asleep up against your chest, pretending he could hear your breathing as he smiled and said goodnight even if he cried himself to sleep, knowing deep down that you will never respond again. .If you were human you would of started rotting at this point, but you weren't and you wouldn't -- meaning he can play this game of pretend for the rest of his life, until he finds a way to bring you back to life. .At first Dandy still went in the elevator, still sold things to the others until he just, stopped. He stopping coming up, he stopped giving cards -- and the only reason is because he just couldn't care anymore, he had more important stuff to do -- like finding a 'cure' for you and spending time with you! And if you aren't out there anymore whats the reason to be handing out stuff anymore? "My flower! I'm back!" ...... "I missed you too! Don't worry I'll be there shortly, just need to put these papers somewhere safe" ...... "I will bring you back...I promise my flower."

#☾★ adonis beloveds ★☽#☾★ adonis ★☽#male reader #gender neutral reader #x male reader #x reader #dandy's world x male reader #dandy's world x reader #yandere dandys world #dandy x reader #vee x reader #astro x reader #shelly x reader #sprout x reader

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alealuvshayden · 2 days ago

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Stephen Glass - FLUFF

Stephen Glass x reader

𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙥𝙩. 2

It had been a few days since the kiss happened between you and Stephen. For work you usually got up groggily, no interest in working. really. But today was different, today you got to see Stephen again since the party.

You got up early, all happy and motivated. Did your makeup, straightened your hair and put on a fitting office outfit like usual. You made your way to work and entered your office. Usually you didnt see Stephen until break so you werent stressed.

⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴

At break Stephen was avoiding you. Plainly just avoiding you, as if you did something wrong. Even tried everything there was. Searching for eyecontact, brushing up against him, but nothing. It broke your heart. Werent you just so in love at the party? It made you question yourself.

„Am I being too clingy?“ „Am I annoying?“ „What did i do to him…?“

You spent your lunch at your office, hurt and sad. Caitlin noticed and came after you. Knocking softly on the door before entering.

„Hey y/n whats wrong, sweetie?“ she asked softly.

„Stephen‘s ignoring me.. avoiding me. What did i do wrong???“ you blurt out.

Even held back tears which almost dared to escape your eye.

„Oh god im gonna kill him.. He‘s been avoiding you? How did your night end with him? You slept together? maybe??“ She asked curiously.

„No!! None of that! We kissed good night on my doorstep and then he left..“ „He‘s obviously playing me.. i shouldve known.“

„y/n no! I swear he‘s head over heels for you! I dont know what‘s gotten into him! I‘ll talk to him i promise!!! You guys are meant to be.“ Caitlin reassured you.

⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴

Then she left you alone with your thoughts again. Work went miserable. Zero motivation for anything, unlike other days where work could maybe, just slightly be fun.

After work Amy walked over to you.

„y/n!!! Come grab dinner with me..?“ she asked sweetly and you agreed.

⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴

You made reservations and sat by a table. Ordered drinks and your meal. Amy then spoke up.

„y/n, Cate told me Stephen‘s been ignoring you.. im gonna kill him you know.“

„No! no dont do that. Just leave it be.. i knew he wasnt different from other guys.. theyre all the same.“ you sigh sadly..

„y/n i promise you he loves you so much! i-i dont know what‘s gotten into that freak. Cate‘s talking to him right know. Theyre having dinner too. If thats ok with you…?“

Ok? ok? why wouldnt it be.. wasnt as if he was your boyfriend.

„Yeah i mean i dont care anymore..“

„y/n.. you do care. She‘s gonna talk to him and help you.. well no help him and his stupid ass mind.“

You let out a laugh, finally. Ever since lunch you didnt even crack a smile.

⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴

After dinner you and Amy went to your apartment, got ready and decided to go to a club. I mean.. why not right? No one could stop you. You got into a revealing outfit and gave Amy some of your clothes to borrow.

You made your way into the night and into a club, a crowded club if i must mention.

Both you and Amy got yourselves a drink and as the night went on Caitlin joined you both as well. Little did you know that Amy and Caitlin had made a plan to bring Stephen to the club to make it up to you.

You were drunker than both of them and they had a blast with you.

Thats when you started SINGING LIKE CRAZY.

„You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress oooohhhhhh!!!!! Kiss meeeeee, beneath the milky twilighttttt“

„Lead meeeee out the moonlit flooorrrr!!“

Caitlin couldnt stop laughing at it. Amy‘s stomach hurt so much from laughing.

„God, y/n youre sooo funny!“ Amy laughed out.

Caitlin nodded while laughing as well.

That‘s when Stephen approached you from behind, Caitlin noticed and nodded at him. Stephen tapped you on the shoulder and you turned around. When you saw him, your whole mood ruined.

„What the fuck is he doing here!!“ you yell at the girls.

„Talk to him y/n!!!“ and then they left…

⋆♡⸝⸝💌⊹。°˖➴

Stephen followed you around to see your face.

„Cupcake, please i can explain!!“

„noooooooppeeeee“ you drunkenly denied him.

„I dont wanna hear ittttt!!“

„y/n please!!“ he pleaded, begged for you.

You held your head up and rushed away from him. Giggling while at it. You were really out of it. Until he got ahold of you, grabbing you gently by the arm. He pulled you to a secluded corner of the club and held you. Tears in his eyes. Typical…

„Cupcake, please. Hear me out-.“

„Fine..“

„I-I thought.. you only wanted to kiss me for new years… and then.. at the office i thought you only wanted to tease me. I felt.. like.. like a freak…“

You almost felt bad for him. Almost. Rolling your eyes. „Oh please.. couldnt even talk to me? Dont play coy with me im not dumb.“

„y/n i promise! I felt like an idiot. I missed that kiss.. i missed you so much..“ A tear fell from his eye. It was real.

You wiped his tear and held his chin.. „Dont cry now.. im just mad. I mean.. I really like you and you do me like this.“

„I understand y/n but im willing to be better.. for you. At least now i know we‘re for real.“

„Yeah.. we‘re for real.. No misinterpretations.“

Stephen nodded and leaned in for a kiss, you giggled, your drunken self was back after being mad.

„You laughing at me now??“ Stephen chuckled and accused you.

„Yeeeahhhh“

He kissed you deeply with a smile and you kissed back. Both of you enjoyed the night, dancing together and making out.

Amy and Caitlin high fived. The job was done.

At least for now.

More was planned on their side.

divider: @uzmacchiato

taglist: @divineani @ysrjune @mvst4far @madsluvsdilfs @hearts4sammonroe @bxbyysstuff @seraphrelic

another parttttt lemme know if you want another part!!! anddd i need ideas. pls. im desperate.

#aj takers #billy quinn #clay beresford #clayton beresford #edits #fan fics #hayden christensen #life as a house #shattered glass #sam monroe #stephen glass #stephen glass x reader

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cringesilver · 2 days ago

Text

Just A Scratch

Courage (Linked Universe) X GN!Reader

~~~~~~~~~~

Summery: Courage has a bad habit of pushing himself too hard, constantly feeling inferior to the others in the chain despite the fact he does indeed pull his weight. Of course, his reckless habits landed him with a bad wound. Not wanting the others to see him fail at something he boasts about he headed back quietly to ask you for help. Despite being the guide for these travelers in this place the dont recall or remember, here you are playing nurse for Courage once again.

Fluff and Angst | Lot of Awkward Tension | Might add more in the future

Notes: This is my first time posting any of my writing online in public. Usually I just share between friends but for linked universe its a smidge harder, this is very short but I wanna share my writing somehow anyways. There's also BARELY ANYTHING FOR COURAGE ON HERE, so I'd like to help add.

~~~~~~~~~~

Great, another problem, another reason to get singled out… I doubt even running before I was caught meant anything… Why me…

~~~~~~~~~~

You watched as Courage pouted, looking away as you cleaned around the wound on his arm. A very good solid cut that might need more than a band-aid, to say the least. He'd glance over you after a while, humming in thought. Rather loudly, too.

“What is it…?” She didn't bother fully looking at him, just focusing on the task at hand.

“Dunno, just curious-”

“Curious about what?”

“Mmmmcurious why you haven't kissed it beeeAAAUGH-” he was cut off by the sudden sting of you applying the cleaning solution to his wound directly. His arm clenching and flexing in your hands as he hissed at the end of his shock.

“Grow a brain, when will you learn your little sly questions won't work on me?” You raised an eyebrow at him. Watching him settle down and shoot a glare at you.

“Well excuse me for trying- least I don't rub- acid in your wounds when you say no!”

“Just because you take it like a champ doesn't make it any less annoying…” shed give your words weight with a pause. Watching his expression soften almost reluctantly before you tended to his wound again.

The silence was deafening, but nice considering Courage was quite the chatterbox. At the same time it felt strange, you peeked up at him, staring at you. His expression was unclear, a hint of confusion or concern maybe. Even if you were looking at him, his next words startled you.

“Why are you so patient with me?” You blinked in confusion, him interrupting you before you could even speak. “You say I'm annoying all the time… in all honesty, you could've just not helped me. Be it now or any other time you have.”

“Am I not allowed to just help out??”

“Theres helping out then theres being oddly trolerable-” he squinted at you, you glared back in confusion.

“Excuse me? We’re scrutinizing how people act now mister ‘flirt every 5 seconds’??”

“I’m just wondering why you even stay around me!” he interrupted with a bit of a raised voice. The air grew thick as if hard to breath, you both looked away in unison from each other. “I’m not a stranger to people just flat out ignoring me. My own Zelda was very used to doing that. Just coming to me for chores and work… You however go out of your way to help me…”

“You're injured, I can’t just sit to the side and do nothi-”

“I can very easily heal my own wounds, especially on my arms. You know that…” After your words had been cut off, silence filled the room again. Eventually, you’d huff, almost tossing his arm to the side as you came to a stand. Looking down at him with a strange mix of anger and embarrassment.

“Then you do it- the less I have to attend to a meat head like you, the better.” You flicked the rag onto his face, he yelped lightly from the action. As you turned and walked away, you’d hear him call out to you till you slammed the door close.

You don't know why your heart was racing. It felt so stupid, unreasonable. All you were doing was helping, healing him since he stupidly went into the battle and acted like a reckless idiot. So why was it weird when he pointed it out? Why did it feel like an attack on you, your actions, when he mentioned how you stayed despite calling him “annoying”? It made you feel embarrassed, like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

You don't care for his flirts, never have. You made sure to take the chances to stay far away from the possible battle fields to avoid the typical “Kiss me as my reward”, “Saved you again, kiss me”, so many others, you lost the other variations under a few hundred more. Sure they were annoying, but at the same time he was oddly charming over it. In a stupid way. Stubbornly, your heart fluttered, remembering the countless times. You couldn't help but let out a groan of frustration as you went into your shared room with Wind at the inn. Flopping onto the bed and muffledly screaming into the mattress.

Courage was sitting there awkwardly, his mind swirling with so much that it was almost overwhelming. He let out a sad huff. He took the rag and did the cleaning himself. Slow with his emotions, like a pouty dog almost. He’d move to get the wrapping, starting to wrap the wound once it was cleaned. Almost glaring at it as if it was the one that opened its dumb mouth to ask questions, not him. He couldn't help but lecture himself in his head, he should've kept his mouth shut. Once he was done he haphazardly put everything away, shoving the sleeve of his shirt down to cover the bandages. Walking around the inn to possibly look for you. He felt a sorry was needed after his blind impulsive actions.

Yes, he wanted to know why you bothered with his presence, but he shouldn't have asked that way. At least he doesn't think he should have? He just doesn't know. There was all those times he messed with Zelda in the past, being stubborn on purpose. But it started to feel weird the more you rejected him. He had already slowed down on his pestering because of it, and part of him wondered if you had noticed. But the more genuine he got with his words, the more it somehow stung when you said no. This was new, even for him. No, he didn't like it one bit. He wasn't used to his heart aching so much, sure he’d think about a few ladies here and there. But you? You lingered in his brain so much that it was like your own form of annoying. While he pesters you in real life you pester him in his head. It was getting to the point of being concerning for the hero, considering this was all new for him.

He had paused once he stepped in front of your inn room door. He didn’t wanna go as far as to check in there, if you were in there, you'd probably wanna be left alone for all he knows. At the same time though, his need to apologize to calm whatever he was feeling in his chest felt more important. After one last sneer at himself, not liking how that thought sounded so selfish of him. He knocked on the door.

You jumped slightly from the sudden knock. Just as you were going to get up from the bed to answer, you paused, glaring at the wood barrier.

“Who is it?” you sat up as you spoke. Meanwhile on the other side Courage felt at a loss. Like he regretted even disturbing you.

“It’s me- listen- please im-”

“I don't want to hear it Courage. If you still need help maybe don't say you can just do it yourself.”

“Wait, please! Please, I just wanted to say sorry!” was that desperation in his voice. That was new for you, it caused you to almost instinctively get up. Gently cracking the door open to see him. He looked down at you, the embarrassment very clear on his face. Even if a hand was clapped over his mouth, the tips of his ears practically glowed. It caused you to avert your own gaze from being flustered. Your heart fluttering stupidly again.

“Sorry for what exactly. You just spoke your mind..”

“For insulting your abilities- I guess.. And questioning you like that it was wrong of me.” wrong of him? That was strange to hear from him too. When you looked up your eyes locked with his. It was strangle unsettling. Like this was the first time you had ever held eye contact with him at all. You were scared your own ears were glowing.

“Apology accepted- seeing as it's the first time you’ve ever apologized..”

“You say that like it was bad…”

“Something like that can be debated… but… I appreciate it…” the silence between you two as your gazes stayed locked, was everything under the sun, awkward. He let out a huff as you took his arm, lifting the sleeve slightly to check his work. “How does it feel- is it ok?..”

“It- its fine.. Really… I managed.” he grew startled from your sudden movement. Watching your hands as your fingers grazed over the wrapping carefully. “Does it meet your standards nurse?”

You let out a huff, unable to resist the slight smile creeping on your face. Looking up at him you could see him flash a cheeky, innocent grin. You rolled his eye, letting go his arm as if to drop it.

“Yes, it does weirdo… I forgot you've had to bandage yourself before.” you let out a sigh, relaxing, trying to ignore you fast paced heart in your chest. Just as you were going to say something Courage cut you off almost awkwardly.

“I- have to ask.. Should I stop?” you paused, giving him a confused look. “I.. should I stop being i dunno… stupid? Flirting like a jerk basically. Because if it bugs you I don’t- wanna do that.. Despite my actions, I do genuinely care about you- your feelings I mean.. So…” your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, it was like it was all you could hear minus his words. Why was he even asking this? Why now of all times, here of all places? The moment it hadn’t felt awkward his stupid mouth made it awkward again. He grew more and more concerned from your silence as it went on. “Uh… if I uhm, asked a stupid question you can… make fun of me now… hello?...”

You shook your head, a hand holding it slightly as you looked down at the floor.

“Courage- can I ask what caused you to ask that?”

“W.. well I said why I- well you see uncomfortable when I ask, I guess? You get annoyed, for good reason. If it's genuinely something you want me to stop I'll doing it I swear-”

“But- it's… have…” it was getting worse and worse, his heart was sinking into his stomach. Now he was getting confused by his own words. “I… don't know courage?? I just don't-”

“F-forget I asked then. I retract my question.”

“Well I never said that-” you shot your gaze back at him, you could see him huff in almost panic as he rolled his eyes.

“What do you want me to do then!? You're getting more and more confusing, this sorta thing is… important.. To me…” what is he even saying!? You could feel your heart almost stop for a solid second, his own face faltered in concern as if he could see you stumble slightly.

“What are you insinuating here Courage??”

“I-I’m not insinuating anything!” he waved his hands defensively. “Please- I just want to make sure I'm not somehow hurting you.. I-I realized how stupid I keep being, I mean, I made you stomp off. Even if- I… dunno, am a meat head, I still care about you-”

“Do you not hear yourself!?” you stepped back from the door, this was almost scary. He grew even more confused at your action. He tried being upfront for once and you seemed to be acting as if he was saying unspeakable evil. He let out a groan as his hands came up to rub his face in frustration.

“I DO AND I'M STARTING TO THINK I SHOULD CUT OUT MY OWN TONGUE-”

“Guardian!?” Both of you jumped, looking down the hall. That was Time’s voice. Courage himself felt his heart sink now past the floor. He swallowed his nerves as he started to walk off down the hall.

“C-courage come back-”

“No- just… think about my question. I dunno- give an answer later or something.. I.. need to make sure it doesn’t look like I ran from battle…”

He walked out of view, you standing there awkwardly. Nervously. You didn't know what to think or do. His words felt like a strange half confession. Why was he asking about his stupid, nonsensical flirts? It's not like he ever meant them, but did you ever act truly hurt or annoyed by them? You never were, so you almost hoped you didn’t. At the same time, why were you even hoping if that was the case, if he just stopped, everything would be better, right? You wouldn't have to deal with it anymore, at least. So why..

Why did your heart hurt at the thought of him stopping..

#linkeduniverse #lu courage #courage lu #linked universe courage #Courage x reader #lu courage x reader #courage lu x reader #linked universe courage x reader #linked universe x reader #fluffy and angst #awkward tension #gender neutral reader #hes very stupid #he cant confess for shit #its ok we forgive him

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itspheenixbaby · 2 days ago

Text

introduction

🎶 now playing … honey - erykah badu

for years i avoided scripting “world changes” to my desired realities because i knew it would fundamentally alter my culture and the state of the world in general. if you take away racism, you dont have rap. if you take away colonialism half the world doesnt have a lingua franca. since i got my shifting “start” on tiktok, my decision to keep the world the same was seen as “wrong” or “bad”. when it was anything but (at least from my pov) all i wanted to do was preserve the culture(s) that i had come to love so much.

but eventually either the peer pressure or just curiosity got to me, and i decided. what the hell, sure. lets get rid of every traumatic racial or social event thats still an issue in the modern day that i can think of. and thank God i caved, because the world i ended up building is ten times cooler.

(i only script this in realities where it probably wouldnt matter either way. like its not in any of my marvel based realities because the usa’s historical events are so deeply tied to all their plots to me itd feel weird to take it out. but for most of my desired realities set on earth, yeah this is our history.)

(i also never try to make the world perfect but what id describe as a “semi realistic good-ending”)

for the rest of this ramble, keep in mind when i say “america” or “american” im referring to both north & south americans. like how you’d say european or asian. if i mean to say united states of american 🇺🇸 , ill probably just say yankee(s) or yank(s). just because my familys jamaican and thats what they call us as slang lol.

alternate history, aka historical algebra

🎶 now playing … agua de beber - astrid gilberto

some people just script “racism didnt happen”; “the us is different/fairer” or “slavery / indigenous genocide didnt happen” but im very detailed. so that just felt like a cop-out. and all events are instrumental to shaping the cultural, social and even economic landscape of all my cultures. therefore, i had to come up with a way to get a mostly similar afro-america, usa & jamaica while re-doing all cultures major past atrocities. but how do you do that? well its pretty obvious. injustice and our cultural traumas didnt just pop up out of no where, so you have to change the history. if you build a home with a crooked foundation, obviously the entire house will be lopsided.

because both north and south america already have similar histories, it wouldnt get the effect i want if one nation was unaffected by colonialism/slavery/indigenous genocide and every other one was or vise versa. so any historical changes would have to be pan-continental.

indigenous-americans

to set a steady and mostly ethical foundation, indigenous culture unfortunately couldn’t be too much of the same. i considered making it that native americans and settlers were just harmonious, but like…realistically, even if they did okay it, who wants some random mofos just strolling into your land and establishing themselves? not me. especially not without indigenous americans holding the same power / advancement in general. you could still reasonably have some kind of racial tension, even if you scripted out racism. and again, i know in some countries esp south america, indigenous-settler relations in the past and the modern day arent as abysmal, but hell if im going all out scripting for a handful of countries why not include everyone? like what the hell, sure.

anyways in my desired reality, indigenous americans keep most of their fundamental culture. but unlike our reality, they were all *extremely* advanced. especially compared to the other four populated continents. characteristically they were a curious people, which is why their educational systems, economics & problem solving were ahead of their time. one example of this is the PCT.

the PCT isnt its going to be the “official” name, but im terrible at naming things, so were going with that. anyways, PCT stands for Pan Continental Transit. it was established in around the 1000s. the PCT is exactly what the name implies. its a road (not a literal modern one, think like the silk road) that goes from canada all the way to argentina. it includes the major carribbean islands too, so nobody gets left out. the PCT transported items, people and ideas across both continents at rapid paces. which will explain ; north & south americas extreme advancement levels, the lack of resistance to cultural exchange & the vast intelligence of the people.

other than the PCT, another key example of the curiosity of indigenous americans was their growing degree of influence. instead of europeans “finding” the americas, indigenous americans “found” eurasia & africa. they especially traded and interacted with western europeans and western africans. this interaction lasted a few hundred years before immigration waves began in the 1500s-1700s. in my desired reality, immigration was a natural step following cultural interest instead of an intrusion.

footnotes / effects ;

indigenous americans mingled with other cultures already, so foreign disease wouldnt have killed off their populations.

indigenous-american culture is respected and rightfully mainstream.

there was no reason to war with indigenous people, and it likely wouldve gotten shut down quick due to their advancement & control over both continents.

african-americans

african-americans, in my desired reality alternate history left africa and resettled in the americas on our own jurisdiction. so then what drove us out of africa? i came up with a few sensible reasons. those escaping tribal conflict and exiled rebels were a large amount of the resettlers. an interest in american education / ideas was also a driving force considering the intellectual power of native americans in this au. and since in my desired realities african-americans were seen as equals, a desire for financial opportunity also drove immigration. and since as i mentioned before native americans frequently interacted with west africans, immigration was already feasible.

pan africanism continues to exist in my desired reality, but it formed in a different way. thats where liberia comes into play. because the amount of west africans leaving the region caused an economic slow/drain, large amounts of west africans returned to africa and formed liberia. slowly but surely, the nation began to thrive. the prosperity trickled down to other west african kingdoms/nations/city-states turning liberia and the general west-african community extremely financially successful. in my desired reality, liberia continues its economic brilliance to the modern day. boasting one of the worlds best economies and largest populations. (mostly west african / african-american though).

footnotes / effects ;

african-americans & africans arent treated or seen as less than by other races & ethnicites.

african-american & african culture is respected.

african-americans mostly have african surnames.

african-americans have always had ethnic or racial pride and known our history.

asian-americans

a. so just for funsies, i scripted in a whole ethnic group. i didnt have any clue what to call them, so i pulled the name “jiuyuan” out of my ass. this group set history as the largest wave of collective east asian immigration out of the continent. with estimates of six million individuals leaving asia for the americas. so, whyd they emigrate? well…its complicated. a chinese former military general formed a new religion/mindset. this religion, yuanism, was cut throat and brutal with remnants of witchcraft/shamanism. it was thought to have been causing a stir across asia. so its practitioners were generally shunned from mainstream society. since they had difficulty finding work and adjusting to society, a vast majority turned to maritime based occupations. this continued for a few hundred years until the exiles began. by taking advantage of decades of maritime knowledge, jius fled persecution in east asia and resettled in the americas. particularly the carribbean, central america and coastal south america.

b. i scripted this change for the dumbest reason. i wanted to keep the name “west indies”. so i scripted in another important group of asian americans ; indo-carribbeans (who, yes, i know already exist in our original reality) but in my desired reality, they didnt come to the americas because of english colonialism/labor. indo carribbeans arrived in large quantities to various carribbean nations (including non-english/patois speaking ones) from western india in the 1500s. would be the second largest wave of immigration from asia to the americas, at around four million. they were merchants, aristocrats, pirates and traders. but they were already so well established and so integrated into carribbean cultures before the cultural solidification of europeans that the region was named “after” them. which in my desired reality is why the carribbean is also called the west indies. (clever, aint it 😉)

european-americans.

europeans still emigrate to the americas for the same reasons, but their effect is extremely different.

european-americans would have more cultural similarities with mainland europeans and possibly more syncretism with indigenous and african cultures in general.

instead of slave labor, you might’ve had very wealthy families or individuals relying on a non-race-based system similar to european feudalism to farm crops in southern states / fertile countries. or mining, entrepreneurship, military, local government & trade/shipping (majority directly tied to mother countries / europe). and even then, none of those would be european dominated.

footnotes / effects ;

no jim 🐦‍⬛, encomienda system, white washing, anti-race mixing or wh1te supr3macy. (censoring bc tumblr might not let me post)

nationality is seen above race in their communities.

most slurs including the n-word probably wouldnt exist.

colonialism

yes, i kept in colonialism. how else would we be speaking english/spanish/portuguese/dutch/french? but it does run differently. i mentioned this system in another post, but europeans were only rulers in name. in actuality, it was locals (of all races, including european) that were running the show and typically more concerned with their own agendas than loyalty to the motherland(s). (P.S, i wonder if when i shift this would cause an “untrustworthy american” stereotype in european media 🤔) this is also the case for asia & africa but even more so because there were less europeans & bigger populations in most of those countries.

naturally colonies did adopt some aspects of european culture including; language, christianity/catholicism, art forms (such as visual arts, music, films, dance & sports) and cultural beliefs, including those spread from movements such as the enlightenment. all with varying degrees of alteration and syncretism.

race

european-americans / europeans wouldnt be able to establish racism (which fun fact was partially invented to pit the poor against each other in our cr 😍 i love rich people), and any attempt would obviously be obsolete because in this reality each race has no reason to not be seen equally.

another non-factor is the classification of race into categories like “black”, “brown” or “white”. while in my base reality i dont find an issue with these terms, i dont think itd be realistic in this context. color based terms would likely be seen in the same way as how asians & indigenous people see the terms “yellow” or “red”. what i figure would actually be the case is either continental or region based ancestral classifications. and even then i figure the classifier level would prioritize nationality, followed by ethnic group and finally any broader racial categories.

(if you peruse my page, you’d see that in my idol dr me and most of the members of my group are classified in accordance, if an example is needed)

and thats it for the americas. now onto things i scripted for other regions/countries/continents or just the world in general. this is a lot more general because im jamaican-american so i dont know jack shit about any other nations histories to feel i should change anything (or even have a place to), but here it goes ;

most stuff is made regional/domestic. aka not everything is from china! literally only because i miss seeing “made in usa” or even “made in mexico” on things :(( like switch it up.

everywhere would be classified as a “first world country” by my original reality standards.

europe as a whole still has hella lions.

women & men have always been equal.

east asia is slightly more advanced than the rest of the world.

more places maintain “traditional” architecture styles. i heard in some european countries they dont build anything thats not cohesive with the older buildings and i was like, why dont we all do that???

the principal monetary system might not be capitalism (or communism, for that matter) i feel like i made the world so different im unsure if itd even still “work” but it might be idk.

and now, here goes the rapid fire intended cause & effect round explaining why the historical changes i scripted matters, if its unclear. but im no historian so i could be inaccurate on some things.

no indigenous genocide & thriving pre colonial pan-americas -> all nations in north/south america have further opportunity to become economically stable & explains the continents diversity without decimating an entire population.

pan-american road -> pan-americanism spreads, usa / canada is less likely to play “big brother” (or even be able to) with other north & south american countries. yankees automatically become like way less xenophobic/racist/isolationist because they never were.

global first world + peaceful status -> less over immigration from foreign countries to the west because there isnt a need to. more immigration in general because of cultural interest/work/school, but from everywhere to everywhere. less need for war & conflict because theres less injustice. less racism & xenophobia because no groups can be seen as literally having less. more technological & economic advancement because of a higher education rate.

fem/male equality always -> more technological & economic advancements because of an always larger work force. better mental health because gender norms (while they could still exist) wouldnt be nearly as intense on both genders. possibly more peaceful politics / social scenes because of more nuanced perspectives being highlighted and masculine energy wouldnt be a status quo.

no racial hierarchies -> no systemic racism in general. ameircan or european racism / xenophobia doesnt exist much less spread to other regions and continents.

weaker colonialism -> while europe & the west in general would still be extremely culturally & economically dominant, other regions and even entire continents would be on the same level….and the term “the west” might not be used? whats more plausible (even though its dated downnn in this reality) is probably old/new world.

more stuff made domestic/regional -> more equal financial clout. higher global production power. less unsafe work conditions. and more employed people everywhere.

europe still has lions -> europe just became like ten times cooler???

fun fact im lowkey planning a 1600s-1700s carribbean / american / yankee dr based on this alt history. itd be FUNN. and you just know the carribbean piracy golden age would just be bat shit insane too. also sooo excited to see different countries take on fashion, since the euro influence wouldnt be as universally strong.

and old hollywoods gonna be way more diverse so that’ll be cool to watch.

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sturniolo04 · 3 days ago

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could you make a fic where chris and his girlfriend are trying to get pregnant but can’t, and nick and matt know about it.

A/n: ofc! I put a little spin on it! I absolutely love these requests I have coming in, you guys are amazing!! I hope you love it! And remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

dividers: @issysh3ll

You not sure what it was whether it was your body or his body all you knew was this cycle of trying to get pregnant was frustrating.

I mean you and Chris tried everything. You guys even tried IVF and still no luck you were honestly loosing hope and chris could see it.

Here you were yet again staring at yet another negative pregnancy test.

'another negative its hopless chris"

you huff out throwing the test away in the trashcan.

"its not hopless we just have to keep trying okay"

chris reassures you.

"we have been trying for months chris its never going to happen"

you huff out trying to keep the tears at bay.

You two were so lost that you ultimately gave up on the whole conquest not thinking it was even possible at this point since you had been trying for so long. Chris saw that you were not only giving up on this but giving up on yourself as well and it was scaring him.

"hows the baby making going"

nick jokes out not really sure where you two had fallen on that spectrum since chris hadn't really said anything more about it outside of what he told them before which was that they were trying to have one after being married for a couple years.

"are we going to be uncles"

matt chimes in as chris lets out a soft sigh as his brother look at him with concern written on their faces.

"not good guys its like we keep trying and nothing"

chris states as nick face morphs into sadness for his brother.

"im sorry to hear that chris thats not good I mean how long have you to been trying"

nick asks softly.

"months we lost tracked"

chris huffs out letting his head fall on top of his arms on the table.

"well do you think maybe you need get yourself check out maybe its something with your dick not trying to be mean but like you never know"

matt asks cautiously.

"i have and its not me"

chris replies.

"well then its her"

nick adds on asking him further. Chris shakes his head 'no' that its not her.

"thats weird"

matt states.

"yeah maybe it just not out time yet I dont know guys"

chris sighs out nervously twirling his wedding band around on his ring finger.

"well maybe you two need to just got out or go on a trip take your mind off of things or something"

nick states thinking that might be a good idea for idea which chris willingly agreed to.

Chris decided you two would take a staycation up at the cape cod house for the weekend.

"hey thanks for doing this im sorry I have been difficult lately its just"

you state to him as he simply shakes his head and bringing you into a hug.

"its okay my love lets just enjoy this weekend okay and not think about this right now okay"

chris states bring his hand up to your face to rest underneath your chin lifting it up to place a sweet kiss on your lips as you simply nod you head agreeing the terms.

You two ended up enjoying your couple of nights at the house you two ended up going out to dinner on that Sunday and you couldn't deny that you felt better about life and just everything in general.

"you looked really pretty tonight"

chris states out of the blue as you two finally walking into the house from after having dinner. you turn around giving him a soft smile because this was the first time in a while where you could agree with him about feeling pretty. The whole pregnancy journey made you not feel pretty or worthy of anything so to hear that now felt different. everything felt different.

"thank you"

you softly let out as chris nods his head. Your not sure how the air thickened after the simply statement. All you ask was for chris to help you get out of your dress. Its not like he hasn't done this for you before but it just felt different.

Chris lets out a shaky breath as he unzipped your dress as you let it fall to the floor leaving you in your matching bra and underwear. Chris lets his lips ghost over the sensitive part of your neck causing you to slightly gasp at the feeling. You didn't want him to stop with whatever he was doing. You two stripped each other down until there was nothing in between you.

You reach your hand back to trail your fingers through his hair as he trailed his hand to cup your breasts, squeezing them softly. You immediate turn around so your back was not facing him admiring the boy in front of you. You pull chris into your lips as chris carefully lifts you up by the thighs to wrap your legs around his torso not breaking the kiss as he walked you two over to the bed.

You were so focused on him making out with him you didn't feel his length split you open. it simply was the perfect fit like always.

"fuck"

he groans out from above you feeling every inch of you as if it was your guys first time all over again. You tipped your head back felling him bottom out completely. Chris slowly and steadily began rock his hips into yours, your hips meeting each other every time. It hadn't even been that long and you already felt your high starting to wash over your senses.

"fuck dont stop"

you moan out reaching to grab onto arm to ground yourself. Chris didn't stop. After a couple more thrust you two reached your high together, you two were a moaning mess as you let each out ride it out.

The next morning you geuninely felt sick to your stomach and you weren't quite sure what it could have caused that.

"chris i dont feel too good"

you whine sitting up in the bed holding your stomach tightly.

"im sorry thats not good is it your stomach or"

chris asks you geuninely concerned. You couldn't respond to him feeling the immediate need to vomit. You rush to the connected bathroom opening the toilet and spilling everything into the toliet.

"oh princess"

chris coos out holding your hair out of the way. Your brain was to busy retracing everything you ate from the last 48 hours because what would you be throwing up randomly like this unless.

"what"

chris states looking at your face as if a light bulb came on.

"chris maybe do you think"

you stutter out hoping he figures out what you were talking about. Chris' eyes light up at the thought but how could they be so sure they didn't want to get their hopes up but they always wanted to know if that is the case or not.

"do you have any here you can take right not or do I need to"

chris trails off as you lean over to open the sink cabinet to find some tests in there. you immediately pull one out.

"okay the moment of truth"

chris sighs out as he turns off the timer that was ringing on his phone to let you two know the results were ready for the test.

"chris what if-"

you trail off with a soft sigh.

"hey hey its okay if its not we will keep trying okay"

chris reassures you as you simply nod your head flipping over the test.

"Chris"

you trails off looking at the intersecting lines. it was positive test.

"no way"

chris exclaims as you begin to sob.

"i told you it was going to happen"

chris states bring your sobbing figure into a hug comfortingly running his fingers through your hair. After all of the struggle you could definitely say that it was worth it.

Taglist🗂️

@mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @dirtylittleheart333

@stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @ksturnz @chaoswithus @emely9274 @ivysturnss @sturniolo-szn2 @lezleeferguson-120 @courta13 @chrepsi @lyingonchris

@tezzzzzzzz @babytomatoes21 @sturniolosymphony @zenithsturniolo @bernardsbendystraws @sturnioloslut101

#sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #girlypopsquad🩵#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #charli'scorner🩵#chris x reader #charli'scornerrequests🩵#charli’scornerspeaks🩵#charli’scornertalks🩵#charlischickees🩵#charli'sinbox🩵

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elliespassagerprincess · 20 hours ago

Note

Hello can you write a fic based off of ‘1 step forward and 3 steps back’ by Olivia Rodrigo ? thank you! <3

One Step Forward, Three Steps Back: ellie williams x reader

hi anon! i hope you like it:) I tried something new adding ellies pov.. i hope you dont mind:)

This story is based off the song one step forward, three steps back by olivia rodrigo. If you can, please listen to the song as you're reading:)

Pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

requests are open, send me your thoughts:)

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, toxic patterns, heartbreak, strong language, emotional dependency, insecurity

Summary: In which your relationship always put you 3 steps back

Masterlist

"You got me fucked up in the head, boy."

You wish you could blame it on the trauma.

On the broken world. On the things she’s seen. The things you’ve seen.

But deep down, you know it’s more than that.

It’s her.

And it’s you.

And it’s this thing you keep calling love just to justify how much it hurts.

You’re sitting on her porch again, arms wrapped around your knees, watching as the sun dips behind the mountains. Her guitar is silent inside. So is she.

You said something wrong today.

You don’t know what, exactly—but her face changed. Her mouth pressed into that tight, unreadable line. She stopped laughing, handed you your coat, and mumbled something about needing to be alone. That was hours ago.

And you’re still here. Because she never told you to leave.

But she didn’t ask you to stay either.

Ellie’s hot and cold. Gentle and cruel. Soft one day, distant the next.

She kisses you like you’re the only thing anchoring her to the earth. Then pushes you away like she can’t stand to be touched.

You never know which version you’re going to get.

It’s always a guessing game.

A test you didn’t sign up for.

A trap she doesn’t even know she’s laying.

And every time you think you’re getting somewhere—one step forward—

She pulls away. Shuts down. Disappears.

Three steps back. Every. Time.

You remember the first time she let her walls down.

It was raining, the kind of cold that seeped through your bones. She had a nightmare and showed up at your door looking half-dead. You held her until she stopped shaking. She cried into your neck. Whispered “Don’t leave.” And you didn’t.

She kissed you like she meant it.

You thought it meant something.

Maybe it did.

Maybe it didn’t.

She never said.

"Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don’t understand."

Sometimes she calls you “baby.” Soft. Real.

Sometimes she calls you “dude,” or doesn’t say anything at all, just grunts and walks past you like you’re nothing.

It fucks you up.

You lay awake wondering what you did.

You second-guess everything you said, every look, every breath.

You practice conversations in your head, afraid that the wrong word will make her disappear again.

You used to be confident.

You used to be whole.

Now, you flinch when she raises her voice. You smile too quickly when she’s calm. You praise her for the bare minimum just because it means she isn’t angry.

You’re in love with someone who’s only ever half-there.

But god, when she’s there—

She’s everything.

ELLIE'S POV (ellie is refered to as you because its her pov! pls don't get confused. i tried writing it from her perspective lol)

“And maybe in some masochistic way, I kind of find it all exciting...”

You don’t mean to hurt her.

You really don’t.

But something in you breaks every time they get too close. Every time they see too much. Every time they look at you with those eyes full of hope and softness and trust.

You don’t deserve that.

You never did.

You love her. You know you do. But love feels like a leash—tight and terrifying. It means responsibility. It means hurting them, eventually. And you’ve already hurt too many people.

You don’t want to be that person again.

So you push. You pull.

You leave the room when things get too quiet. You snap at them when they ask what’s wrong. You disappear, come back, kiss them like they’re the air you breathe, and then say something that makes them question if any of it was real.

You hate yourself for it. But you don’t stop.

Because part of you—dark and broken and mean—likes the chaos.

At least you know how to survive in chaos. You don’t know how to survive in love.

YOUR POV

“Maybe I’m just not as interesting as the girls you had before.”

You hear her mention Dina in her sleep.

Just once.

A murmur. A sigh.

A name you’ve never asked about but always felt lingering.

You pretend you didn’t hear.

But the silence after that is louder than anything she’s ever said.

You try to leave. You pack your bag. You don’t say goodbye. You make it to the gate.