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fernslivers · 4 months ago

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MODERN MIZU THOUGHTS

Kicking off my Hyperfixation with some silly little thoughts about modern-day Mizu!

Just a mix of headcanons and imagines, maybe I'll write some of them out into proper imagines if there's any interest! I have some spicier movie imagines already partly written!

Let me know if you like them, I definitely have MANY more thoughts--

This is my first time attempting to post my writings like this, so apologies for any errors.

(TW: canon-typical mention of SA due to Mizu's backstory)

So, of course, in the modern day, she wouldn't be as immediately ostracized the same way, but...

The closest I could think of was that her father was one of four very rich men/CEOs and her mother/baby Mizu were targeted to try to keep the "affair" quiet.

Still believes herself to be the product of SA (I know there's speculation among some fans as to whether this will be true, but since it's what she knows in the show, I'll just say that's true as far as she knows here too)

This still left her with a similar huge complex about her self image, bc she knows she has her dad's eyes, and that he got her mother killed

Went into the system after her mother’s mysterious “death”, got adopted by Eiji after she just wouldn't stop sneaking away from foster care to bother him/stare at his swords

He's still a swordsmith because people DO still do that in modern day. It just would make him even more famous/special.

The whole thing with M*k*o did happen, they divorced, she is aware that that woman is not her biological mother and they are No-Contact

Since she knows that was a maid, she still has the belief that her mother was killed for the reason listed above and still wants revenge.

I debated SO HARD about what she would go to college for. Because her two biggest passions are the sword-making, and revenge, both of which are hard to translate to modern day by themselves, much less in a combination.

(I thought about business, like maybe she wanted to take down a CEO father by taking over his company, or about law enforcement/law school, but they all felt wrong for her character.)

Because let's be honest, those four men in modern days would be involved in organized crime, so Mizu would probably just go straight for that kind of situation as well in order to tail them.

She isn't one to play by the rules of ANY organization

So, she's involved in organized crime on the down-low while going to college.

She doesn't work for anyone in particular, but she does run in shady circles and knows certain names and places. Nobody knows much about her, though.

She's definitely made enemies.

She's only in university at all because Eiji demanded she do something good with her life, and she can't stand to disappoint him so she does try somewhat hard to balance both.

I saw someone else on here say she would pursue Materials Engineering, and I think that’s probably a great option for technical sword smithing. (Sorry, I can't remember who it was, but it was NOT my suggestion.) That or something involving Metalworking in art (my fav cuz it's what I do).

She does sword training privately. She's not in any clubs on campus because, similar to in canon, she prefers a mix of them and actually does use her skills when she's "working", not just for what she considers play-sparring.

She's an older student that went back to school after her divorce.

DON'T ask her about that.

You two meet because you're both looking for a roommate halfway through a semester.

You had a nasty cheating-related breakup that culminated in you kicking your ex AND old RM out, leaving you with an apartment you couldn't pay for alone.

She used to room with Ringo, but just simply could. not. stand. Ringo’s intensely social atmosphere. He's a culinary student who is very respected in classes, and constantly inviting people over for dinner. (Edit: This was also partially someone else's!)

She noticed your ad that specified looking for someone quiet, in an off-campus place that offered a small courtyard for her training.

Perfect.

Your first thought when you meet her is “god damn.”

A tall drink of water with gorgeous eyes and a voice like crushed silk.

Haha I'm in danger

But you keep that under wraps. You tell yourself that you don't need to be rebounding with the person that just moved in.

So much for a roommate that doesn't offer any distractions, though. Her training in the yard pretty much means you get zero work done in that time unless you close the curtains.

…She is very quiet, at least. Even if she keeps odd hours with her strange "job".

However, Ringo is going to be stopping by almost every day to make sure she eats, so expect a lot of humming and a LOT of friendly questions.

Ringo is actually responsible for the two of you getting to know each other initially, because he asks questions of you that Mizu won't ask, and subtly makes sure to do it when Mizu is around to hear the answers.

She pretends to ignore you both, but can't help but tune in a bit.

He also chats a bit about Mizu, as long as it isn't anything she's told him is a secret, and ignores her glaring at him.

She stays stoic about it, but secretly she's rather flustered when you seem interested in a positive way by what Ringo blabs to you about her.

She also appreciates that you don't bug her about it when Ringo isn't around even if she kind of wishes you did

He is Very Excited that Mizu now has TWO friends! :)

Mizu acts annoyed by him, but she is secretly pleased when you seem to like him.

She would not fw you if you didn't. He's like a beloved sibling; she gets to complain about him, but she'll fight anyone else that doesn't like him.

You finally get to ACTUALLY start becoming friends when you both happen to stay on campus over a break.

You aren't on good terms with your family, so you assume you'll have the place to yourself, but...

Walking by Mizu’s room you notice that she's still here.

Her door is open for once because she also assumed you would be gone.

After staring at each other in mutual surprise, you awkwardly ask her if she wanted to maybe hang out over dinner and watch a movie or something.

She would normally have said no, but with nothing else to do over break, she chose to focus on doing homework continually (She is perpetually behind because of those Extracurricular Revenge Activities of hers), and she is just so done with it

So she awkwardly agrees

And you learn the hard way why Mizu is not allowed in the kitchen EVER.

You try, you really do, to keep that first bite in your mouth, but…

She shamefacedly asks if you're alright while you're still coughing over the garbage can, but your coughing turns to giggling.

You joke to her that you're actually glad to know she isn't perfect at everything, and she seems surprised that you admire anything about her to begin with

You're willing to start over ON YOUR OWN, but she insists that would be unfair and orders you both takeout.

Since she bought dinner, you insist that she gets to pick the movie.

She kind of wants to put on that new slasher flick that just came out on streaming, but she isn't sure what you like and you seem like such a sweet little thing.

And after nearly killing you via spices, she didn't want you to think she was a TOTAL psycho.

(She doesn't want to talk about why she even cares what you think.)

So she chose a documentary on modern sword-smithing that she knew Eiji had been interviewed for.

(This surprised you, because you were EXPECTING her to choose a horror. She just seems like the type. And maybe you were hoping for an excuse to snuggle closer…)

But this is actually really interesting, and you find yourself fascinated. You never knew about the details and craftsmanship that went into this!

She tries to sit quietly, as usual, but she just can't resist the urge to point out Eiji when he appears.

She's just too proud of her sword-father. That pride is obvious in her voice and makes her seem almost soft for once.

This makes you feel ever so slightly brave, and leads to you pausing after his section (because you don't want to talk over him), and asking all sorts of questions.

Normally she wouldn't be thrilled about this, but she can't resist questions about Eiji the way she can about herself.

Somehow this leads her to ask some minor question about your major, related to something you told Ringo, and she's startled at the jolt that runs through her when you light up, just beaming at her.

“I didn’t know you listened to any of that!”

You start excitedly explaining, but she's distracted by the strange thrumming in her chest at the way you smiled at her.

(This is not going to be a problem for her. It's NOT. )

#mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #modern mizu #bes mizu #mizu bes #mizu x you #mizu x y/n #bes #blue eye samurai #mizu brainrot #bes x you #bes x reader #tw: sa

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thealternateuniverse · 8 days ago

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I'll be your daydream, I'll be your favorite things

"Deep in my bones, I can feel you / Take me back to a time only we knew, hideaway..."

Lance Stroll x Fem OC

This was a heavy one for me to write but the idea was good and it was like an itch to my brain that I need to scratch.

Ps. I'm tired of Lance being F1's punching bag

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 6, 717

Warnings: Self- harm | Mental health issues | Abuse | Haven't proofread to the point of perfection

Disclaimer:

The characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictional. While some names and settings may resemble real individuals or locations, this work is set in an alternate universe and does not reflect actual events or personal relationships. Any similarities to real-life situations are purely coincidental and used for creative storytelling purposes only.

Lance couldn’t be happier when a race weekend finally ended. The moment he wrapped up post-race duties, he was gone flying off to whichever country felt far enough. If it weren’t for his job, he’d throw his phone in the trash and disappear, never to return.He’d left everything behind. But he couldn’t, could he? Not until the world was done tearing him apart, bleeding him dry on the track, crucifying him for every mistake, for every privilege. As if he were the only one born into wealth. As if the others weren’t also handed golden keys behind closed doors.

Unwinding used to mean drowning his exhaustion in alcohol, hockey games, parties, or short trips with his sister or mum. Lately, though, he’d been doing it alone. And to his surprise, he realized backpacking was a hell of a lot better than lugging around everything he owned.

“Soo…where to this time?”

His face lit up when he saw her at the airport, backpack slung over her shoulder, dressed in travel clothes. Her hair was in a French braid, her face fresh and bare except for a hint of gloss on her lips, her skin glowing with a sun-kissed tan from their recent trip to Cancun.

“Anywhere we want,” Lance replied with a shrug.

She thought for a moment, tapping her chin playfully. “How about… Palau?”

Lance gestured to the check-in counter. “Then off to Palau we go.”

He lied, though. He wasn’t alone. He’d met Revia on his first solo trip, in Greece. No one knew, no one was snapping photos of him or twisting his expressions into scandal. A stranger, a backpacker, a burst of color in his grayscale life. He never planned on talking to anyone and it was through her that he learned how to travel alone. He had never loved flying economy more, booking ferries, buses… Hell, now he was even into motorcycles and bicycles. It felt… therapeutic. He couldn’t explain why these simple changes made him feel like he had his life figured out. But the bliss always fades the moment he returns to his real life. Race weekends loomed like an unavoidable storm.

But now, there is something to look forward to. Revia. Enthralling, fresh, like a breath of clean air. Lance knew he couldn’t go back to Canada without at least learning her name. She was the most mesmerizing person he’d ever met, gliding through the golden light of Santorini like some kind of goddess. He stood there, frozen, mouth agape, like a complete idiot. When he finally gathered the courage to approach her, she chuckled, clearly amused by how badly he’d made a fool of himself. But they clicked. And just like that, they were travel buddies. She had no idea what F1 was, and that was perfect. It was the last thing Lance wanted to think about on his days off. They exchanged contacts and agreed to meet at the airport when they travel. Lance didn’t ask much about her life, just her name: Revia Elira. No backstory, no details, just someone who loved to travel and, for some reason, had decided to tag along with him.

From Greece to Amsterdam—where she made him chase tulips under the spring sun. Then to Egypt, where he questioned his sanity climbing temples in 40-degree heat and for agreeing to go so far from his usual vacation spots, but it was exhilarating. Hong Kong, where he ditched Michelin stars for street food and swore he found heaven in a dumpling cart. Mind you, he never would have considered before. He felt like Anthony Bourdain, learning about culture firsthand. Then China, the northern part, was surprisingly cold. The Maldives. Cancun. He’d never taken so many videos, silly ones, fleeting moments. Photos that would last longer than the pain of being vilified online. He knew he couldn’t run forever but while he could, he’d live.

Palau is beautiful.

“This isn’t real,” Revia whispered, breathless. They were both standing there, stunned.

“This can’t be real,” Revia gasped, looking out at Palau’s sapphire waters. Both of them were stunned by the view.

“Oh my god, Lance, this is paradise!” she squealed, taking off her cover-up mid-run toward the shore.

He instinctively pulled out his phone, capturing the moment. Her joy. Her light.

“Hey! Don’t just stand there like a statue!” she yelled over her shoulder.

Lance snorted. “I’m not miserable! I’m documenting greatness.”

He set his phone down on a nearby recliner and ran after her, both of them wading into the water.

“I wish I could live here,” she whispered as they floated beside each other, the sun warming their faces.

“Me too,” he murmured, eyes closed. “I wish I never had to leave.”

Later, they lounged on recliners, sunbathing. Lance drifted off without realizing only to wake to the soft graze of fingers on his face. Revia’s face hovered over his, haloed by sunlight.

“Hey…” she said softly.

He blinked, disoriented for a moment. Her features were the first thing he saw. She didn’t look real. She looked like something he dreamt up.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered, more to himself than anything.

Revia chuckled, her eyes sparkling, her beauty radiant even in the fading light. Without thinking, he reached out, pulling her into his arms. She fell into his chest, his arms wrapped around her as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded. He forgot about everything else. He breathed her in, like she was oxygen.

“Can we just stay like this? Forever?”

She sighed, her body relaxing in his arms. “You’ve got a job to get back to.”

“I know,” he groaned. “But I just want to be with you.”

“Are you… falling in love with me?”

He smirked "What if I am?"

She smiled, a playful glint in her eyes. “Then we’ll have to jump off a waterfall. Together.”

He didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t need to. It sounded perfect.

“Only if you hold my hand.” He gently cupped the back of her neck and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

They both stood, but Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Not when the golden hour draped her in light like some divine painting.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re even real,” he murmured, lost in the moment.

Revia cupped his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his other cheek. “Define real.”

He didn’t have an answer. He just sighed, the words escaping before he could stop them. “Come with me to Silverstone. Watch me race.”

He wanted her to see him in his element, see the world he was from, the world that felt so far away from this paradise.

–

It was race weekend again. The paddock is buzzing. Mechanics rushing, engineers shouting across garages, and the ever-present whirr of engines in the background. But there was something different this time.

The usual pre-race tension seemed to have lifted, and it was noticeable. The team, the drivers, hell, even the crew members couldn’t ignore it. Lance was walking with a different kind of energy, one that had been missing for a while since F3. He was more present. More enthusiastic.

“Is it just me?” Esteban muttered as he walked past Fernando in the paddock, nodding towards Lance, who was chatting with Ollie. “or does Lance look… less haunted?.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed. He’d always kept an eye on Lance, but now he couldn’t help but notice the subtle shifts. Fresh out of his debrief and actually laughed at something Ollie said.

“Definitely less brooding,” Fernando added. “The man even joined with everyone for coffee this morning.”

“Didn’t think that was possible,” George quipped, adjusting his cap. “Lance, smiling. What’s next, a therapy session?”

“Miracles do happen,” Fernando quipped, sipping his espresso like a Roman god observing mortals.

George leaned over. “You know what they say: heartbreak shows in posture, but so does a woman.” He grinned. “He’s glowing.”

Lando gave a thumbs up, overly dramatic. “He even asked about my weekend. I almost cried.”

They laughed, amused and genuinely relieved. Lance had always been cordial, but distant. Social, but guarded. He kept the world at arm’s length, rarely letting anyone in. But today, there was a glimmer of something returning,his old self, maybe.

Lance, who was standing just a few feet away, overheard their conversation and felt a small tug of warmth in his chest. He glanced up, catching the eye of Esteban, who gave him a knowing wink.

He adjusted his fireproof suit, his gaze drifting toward the corner of the paddock where he knew Revia had told him she’d be watching. He could already feel the anticipation building in his chest.

But race weekends were tricky. His focus had to stay sharp. The roar of the engines, the pressure of the crowd.

The race came and went, the cars tearing around the track in their blistering speed, a familiar rhythm that had once felt like a suffocating cage. Lance finished in a respectable position, his performance solid, though not spectacular. But it didn’t matter. He’d felt good out there. And when the checkered flag waved, it wasn’t the race that lingered in his mind. It was the thought of Revia, waiting for him. Because he had asked her to come.

And he believed she would. As he walked through parc fermé and finished his post race duties, his eyes searched the crowd, hospitality, paddock entrance, guest areas but no sign of her. He even checked the garage, then peeked at the grandstand from the corner of his eye. His phone was quiet. No messages.

She wasn’t there.

His heart sank for just a moment before he shrugged it off. Maybe something had come up. Maybe she’d been delayed. But he couldn’t deny that the thought of her being absent tugged at him more than he cared to admit. Disappointment wrapped around him like a cloak.

But when he entered the hotel lobby, something caught his eye. A silhouette in the corner, slightly hunched under the weight of a drenched jacket. The sound of rain pounded against the glass doors.

And there she was.

Revia. Soaked from the rain, than her usually perfect braid frizzed in the humidity.

Lance’s heart skipped a beat. He barely had time to process before his legs moved, carrying him across the marble floor toward her.

"Revia..." His voice was a mix of relief and excitement. Then Lance broke into the brightest grin anyone had seen on him in years.

She looked up, and the moment her eyes met his, her lips curved into a smile that made everything else blur out of focus.

“My flight got delayed, and then my cab broke down in the rain. I didn’t make it in time…”

“You’re here now,” Lance cut her off, wrapping his arms around her tightly, as if anchoring himself.

“You’re freezing,” she mumbled against his chest, but she didn’t pull away.

“So are you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her damp hair.

She looked up at him, eyes glassy from the cold. “Did I miss everything?”

And in that moment, Lance felt a surge of something more profound than just joy. It was the feeling of being understood, of finding someone who wasn’t just present but truly there with him. His whole life, he’d been surrounded by noise, by cameras, by expectations. But with Revia? She was just here. No pretenses. No facades.

He took her hand, warm and real and right here, and led her toward the elevator.

“No,” he said softly, brushing a wet strand from her cheek. “This this is the only part that matters.”

“Let’s get you warm.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, her tone light. “But I’m going to need a towel... and maybe some dry clothes. And you?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly teasing him.

Lance smiled, a real smile this time, one that reached his eyes. “I’m just happy you’re here.I don’t think I can do another race weekend without knowing you’re waiting on the other side.”

She smiled through the exhaustion and chill. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep showing up.”

–

After the madness and busy race weekend, Bali was the perfect place to escape.

The moment they touched down, the warm air hit Lance’s skin like a soft embrace. The hustle of the airport quickly faded as they found themselves winding down the long roads that snaked through the island’s lush landscape. The vibrant green rice terraces, the scent of frangipani flowers, and the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore all made the chaotic world they left behind feel a million miles away.

Revia had been excited from the start, bubbling with energy as she always did when they traveled. But there was something else in her voice as she spoke about Bali. "You know," she said, tossing her bag into the back of their rented jeep, "Bali’s got a lot of spirit energy. The locals believe that the island is guarded by spirits, good spirits, of course. They can tell if you're a good person or not. And if you're not, you'll most likely get sick. It's like the spirits want to keep the bad ones away."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "You’re telling me Bali’s got spirit guardians?"

She nodded, grinning at his skepticism. "Exactly. And the ones who are good, who have good intentions... they get blessed. Their stay here is magical."

“Magical, huh?” Lance repeated, amused. “So if I get sick, you’ll know what’s up.”

Revia laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Exactly. So make sure to be extra nice, Mr. Race Driver.”

Lance smirked, but a part of him felt a strange comfort in her words. After all, how could he argue with someone who lived her life so fully, who embraced the belief in the unseen with such ease?

Their days in Bali became a whirlwind of adventure, far removed from the luxury hotel rooms and catered meals Lance had become used to. Revia insisted they eat in local warungs (small restaurants), where the food was as authentic as it got. They devoured nasi goreng with chili-spiced sambal, crispy duck, and sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves. Lance was still getting used to the street food vibe, but there was something deeply satisfying about eating meals prepared by local families rather than in the impersonal surroundings of a five-star hotel.

They rented motorcycles, a decision that made Lance both nervous and excited. He had never been one for motorcycles, but with Revia leading the way, he couldn’t help but follow.

The island’s roads were wild and narrow, twisting through jungles and villages, passing by temples decorated with intricate carvings and offerings of colorful flowers. Revia, fearless and carefree, weaved through traffic like it was second nature. Lance had to concentrate, gripping the handlebars with a mix of exhilaration and mild panic.

"Don’t go too fast, okay?" he called to her, his voice carrying in the wind.

Revia glanced over her shoulder, her face lit up with a grin. "Catch me if you can!" she yelled before speeding ahead, her laughter echoing down the road.

It felt like a different world. Wild, untamed, and carefree. After hours of exploring, they finally reached the base of a lush jungle, where they started their hike to the waterfall. The air was thick with humidity, and every step felt like a brush with nature itself. The jungle around them was dense, the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves almost musical, but it was the feeling of being completely in the moment that made it unforgettable.

They hiked up steep paths, weaving between moss-covered rocks, their shoes sinking into the earth with each step. Revia led the way, moving with a natural grace that made Lance feel like he was the one struggling to keep up. Sweat was dripping down his back, his muscles aching from the climb, but the promise of the waterfall spurred him on.

“Almost there!” Revia shouted back, clearly unaffected by the climb. Her face was flushed from the heat, but there was a sparkle in her eyes, this was her element, and Lance couldn’t help but admire how at ease she was, even in the midst of the challenge.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they reached the top. The waterfall roared in front of them, crashing against the rocks below in a beautiful, thunderous display. The mist from the falls sprayed their faces, the cool droplets refreshing against the sweltering heat.

Revia looked at him with an impish grin. "Ready to jump?"

Lance stared at the waterfall. The drop wasn’t far, but it was high enough to make his stomach churn with nerves. It was a moment that would test him, just like every other big decision in his life. The voice in his head, his racing mentality tried to argue against it, to stay grounded, to stay safe. But then he looked at Revia, standing there so confidently, her smile full of life, and something inside him broke free.

"Yeah," he said, his voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline. "Let’s do it."

They ran toward the edge together, their hands clasped tightly. As they jumped, the world around them seemed to stop just for a second. They were suspended in air, weightless, before plunging into the cool, welcoming water below. The impact was breathtaking, the coldness of the water shocking at first, but the moment they resurfaced, laughter bubbled up from both of them.

Lance floated in the water, his arms stretched out as he stared at the sky above, letting the current take him. Everything felt so surreal. The jump, the water, the feeling of being with someone who made the world seem just a little more magical than it had before.

“Now this is what I call a moment,” Lance said, his voice quiet but filled with contentment.

Revia swam beside him, her body moving through the water with grace. “This place does that to you,” she said softly, almost as if she were talking to herself. “Bali… It’s magic.”

Lance looked over at her, a smile tugging at his lips. Maybe it was the magic of Bali. Or maybe it was something about Revia, about their connection, about how her belief in the spirits of the island had somehow brought him here, to this moment, to this peace.

“I think I’m starting to believe,” he said, his eyes locking with hers.

Revia grinned, treading water beside him. “I knew you would.”

As they floated in the waterfall’s embrace, Lance realized something that had eluded him for years. This wasn’t just an escape. It was a reminder that life wasn’t meant to be lived in isolation or in the shadow of what others thought of him. It was about moments like these, spontaneous, raw, and real.

And with Revia by his side, he felt like he could live in this magic forever.

They lay side by side, just off the riverbank where the waterfall roared in the background—like nature’s own applause. The spray from the falls misted the air around them, cool against their sun-warmed skin. Their towels were spread across the rocks, the last of the sunlight casting soft gold over the water and trees.

Lance rested on his back, arm behind his head, eyes watching the sky turn orange. Revia lay beside him, tracing idle circles on her thigh, occasionally glancing at him but giving him space.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. Like they’d known each other in a hundred lifetimes before this one.

“Tell me about F1. I’m curious what you do.” She broke the silence.

He let out a deep sigh.

Then Lance spoke quietly, like he was speaking more to the trees than to her.

“You know, when I started racing… I used to get so excited I couldn’t sleep before a karting event. I loved the speed, the precision. Even the nerves. I couldn’t wait to get on track.”

He exhaled slowly.

“Then I got older. F3, F2... F1. And somewhere along the way, it started to change. It became... heavier. Less about the thrill and more about expectations. Eyes. Judgment. Backlash. And my father.”

He turned his head, looking at her. “Do you know what it’s like to love something so much, but feel like it’s draining your soul?”

Revia didn’t answer. She just nodded, eyes open, listening.

“I keep thinking I should be grateful….I am, but at the same time... every race feels like I’m on trial. ‘Daddy bought his seat.’ ‘He’s wasting space.’ ‘He’s not good enough.’ No matter how much work I put in. No matter how hard I try.”

His voice cracked slightly but didn’t waver.

“And I’ve gotten good at pretending it doesn’t affect me. That I don’t care what they say. But God, sometimes I wish I could scream. Just once. Let it all out. Because the truth is… I love racing, I do, but it’s starting to feel like I’m doing it for everyone but myself.”

He looked at his hands. Scarred knuckles, sun-bronzed skin, a few small bruises fading from his wrist.

“It used to feel like flying. Now it feels like falling.”

A long moment passed. Only the sound of the waterfall and distant birds in the trees.

Then Revia slowly sat up, legs crossed beneath her as she looked at him, her voice low but sure.

“You don’t have to keep carrying all of that alone, Lance. I think you’re letting everything else drown out the sound of your own heart,” she said softly, her gaze holding his. “You’ve been trying to live up to expectations that were never your own. Your dad’s. The fans’. The critics. It’s too much weight for anyone to carry, Lance. No one can breathe under all that.”

He met her eyes, guarded and vulnerable. He looked at her, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation for how heavy it’s gotten. Not even your dad. And you sure as hell don’t owe the world a version of yourself they’ll approve of. They don’t get to decide if you’re enough.”

She tilted her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, still damp from their swim.

“I don’t think you’ve fallen out of love with racing,” she said. “I think you’ve fallen out of love with how it’s been twisted, how much you’ve had to sacrifice for it. Who you’ve had to become just to survive it. Maybe it’s time to stop racing for everyone else. To stop pretending like it’s not hurting. What I’m saying is... you’ve been so focused on the outcome, the results, the pressure... that you’ve forgotten why you loved it in the first place. You loved it because it was you. It was your passion. Your drive. But somewhere along the way, it became about living up to someone else's version of success.”

Lance didn’t say anything. He was just… watching her. Eyes soft. Jaw unclenched. Her fingers closed around his

“Maybe it’s okay if the fire dims sometimes,” she added. “That doesn’t mean it’s gone forever. And maybe the drive doesn’t always look like adrenaline and glory. Sometimes it’s choosing to get back in the car, even when it hurts. Or knowing when to step away, breathe, and remind yourself why you started.”

Lance swallowed. His throat was tight.

“You’re not weak, Lance,” she said gently. “You’re just tired. And you’re allowed to be.”

Her hand was still holding his, and Lance squeezed it, letting the comfort of her touch remind him that maybe he didn’t have to carry it all by himself anymore. He could be honest with her. He could be vulnerable.

“I think I was just waiting for someone to say that,” he whispered.

She smiled, eyes kind. “Well, I just did.”

He looked at her for a long moment. The falls still crashed in the background, but all he could hear was the silence between her words, the kind that comforted without demanding anything back.

Then, with a small breath, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers.

“I don’t want to lose myself to all of it,” he murmured.

“Then don’t,” she replied. “You’re still here, Lance. You’re still you.”

And as the sky faded to twilight, and the first stars blinked awake above them, he let himself believe her.

If only for tonight.

“Come on, let’s have one last dip.”

The Stroll family’s mansion was eerily quiet, save for the occasional tapping of Lawrence’s fingers on his iPad screen, checking stocks. The sun had barely crept over the horizon, but Claire Ann and Chloe were already in the living room, tension thick in the air.

Chloe was pacing back and forth, her frustration mounting with every step. “It’s been three days, Mom, and he hasn’t left his room! He barely even answers the phone when I call him.” She stopped, turning to Claire Ann, her face drawn with worry. “He’s been like this for months now! Sometimes, he doesn’t even look like him anymore. I don’t know what’s going on, but we can’t just ignore it.”

Claire Anne’s face was tight, her concern barely concealed. She had noticed the same things: Lance had changed. His eyes, once full of fire, now seemed dull, the spark gone, as if life had drained from him. She watched him from afar, helpless and heartbroken. "I know, Chloe. But... I don’t know what to do. He’s always been so strong. He used to love racing, it was everything to him, but now…" Her voice trailed off, swallowed by the heaviness in the room.

She knew her son and his love for racing, she watched from f3, to f2, now f1. But her heart breaks every time she sees her boy losing his soul to the sport he once loved

Chloe threw her hands up in frustration. "What if this isn't just some phase, Mom? What if he needs help? He’s not eating properly, he’s barely sleeping, and I—" She choked, taking a breath. “I’m scared, okay? He’s falling apart and we’re sitting here doing nothing. He’s not okay.”

Lawrence’s voice cut through the tension, as calm and dismissive as ever. “Nonsense, Chloe. He’s throwing a tantrum. He’s just upset about that race. He should’ve gotten that P3, but he slipped and fell to P7. He could have done better, for Christ’s sake. If he drove like he actually cared, he wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Chloe’s fists clenched, her blood boiling. "A tantrum? You’re seriously blaming this on a race result, Dad?" She almost screamed, her voice cracking with frustration. “This isn’t about a goddamn race. This is about Lance. This is about my brother, who’s been slowly disappearing right in front of us, and you won’t even bat an eye!”

Lawrence didn’t even look up from his screen. “What’s there to see? He’s a driver. He’s been living in the shadow of his dad’s expectations. He had one bad race, big deal. He’s not crazy.”

Chloe’s breathing grew shallow, a mixture of panic and rage. “Oh my god, are you hearing yourself? You think this is just about a race? It’s been months, Dad! He hasn’t been himself since before that crash in Monaco. You know he used to smile after every race, even the bad ones. Now he barely talks to us. He’s empty. This isn’t normal.”

Claire Ann, her face drawn tight with worry, reached out and placed a hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “Maybe he needs... someone to talk to. A professional. I’ve been thinking about it, but... I don’t know if he’d be open to it.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end, a sign of how deeply worried she was for her son.

Chloe’s eyes were wide with desperation. “Mom, he needs therapy! He needs someone to help him with whatever this is. I can’t stand seeing him like this anymore!”

Lawrence snorted, rolling his eyes. “Therapy? For what? You’re acting like the kid’s crazy. He’s not crazy. He just needs to grow up and stop letting a few bad results get to him. This is all a phase, and it’ll pass. Let him sulk, let him sort himself out.”

But Chloe had heard enough. She couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t just let her brother slip away in front of her eyes while their father buried his head in the sand.

Without another word, she turned sharply, heading towards the stairs. “I’m not going to stand here and pretend everything is fine,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Where are you going?” Lawrence called after her, but Chloe didn’t answer. She wasn’t going to waste any more time with him.

She reached Lance’s door and knocked softly, her heart hammering in her chest. “Lance? It’s me… I just want to talk. Please, open the door.”

Silence.

“Lance?” she tried again, louder this time, knocking more insistently. Her hand trembled as she reached for the handle, finding it locked. Her stomach dropped.

Her voice was more urgent now. “Lance, you’ve been in there for days. Just let me in. Please.”

But still, no answer. It felt wrong, like the house itself was holding its breath.

Chloe’s hand flew to the door handle, twisting it with force. “This isn’t normal!” she muttered under her breath. “I’m not letting this go.”

Without thinking, her body pushed against the door, forcing it open with a loud creak.

What she found inside made her blood run cold.

Lance was slumped in the bathtub, his body motionless, his eyes closed, his skin pale and ghostly. The water was still running too high, rising up around him, and she could hear the faint sound of water splashing against the edge of the tub.

Chloe’s breath caught in her throat. “Lance!” she screamed, her heart lurching in her chest as she rushed to his side. She shook him roughly, but he didn’t respond.

“No, no, no...” Her hands were shaking as she reached into the water, feeling for his pulse, praying, begging for it to be there. Her mind raced, but everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. “Lance, wake up!”

She yanked him from the water, her heart hammering as she pulled him into her arms, her vision blurry with tears. “Mom! Dad! Help!”

Claire Ann and Lawrence came rushing in at the sound of her frantic scream, their faces instantly drained of color when they saw Lance, lifeless in her arms.

Chloe was shaking, her voice a frantic rasp. “He’s not breathing! He’s not breathing, Mom, do something! Help him!”

Claire Ann dropped to her knees beside them, her hands trembling as she checked for a pulse. She shook her head, her breath hitching, her voice shaking. “Lance... Lance, please...”

Lawrence’s face twisted into panic as he moved to help, but it was clear he was just as lost as the rest of them. “What the hell happened?” His voice cracked.

Chloe was still holding Lance’s cold body, her own tears now falling freely. “I... I don’t know. I just found him here, I—I didn’t know what to do...”

Claire Ann’s voice was strained as she snapped into action, her maternal instinct kicking in. “Get the paramedics. Now!” She grabbed her phone, dialing quickly, her voice trembling with urgency.

In the chaotic blur of the moments that followed, Lance remained still, his body a lifeless weight in Chloe’s arms. The world had gone silent around her, the rush of adrenaline cutting through everything, until all that mattered was the terrifying thought that they might have already lost him.

---

The water was warm. The light is soft. Revia was smiling.

They were still in Bali. Still by the waterfall.

Lance could feel the slick rock beneath him, the sound of the rushing cascade, the glint of the sunset caught in her eyes.

He heard her voice, soft and soothing like always. Only this time… it sounded far away. Muffled.

His brows drew together.

She was right beside him… wasn’t she?

Then her hand brushed his cheek. “Lance.”

Her voice trembled, but her smile didn’t falter.

“You need to go back.”

He blinked. Confused. “Go where? I am here.”

But then he heard something else, screaming.

Not hers. Distant. Desperate.

“No,” he said, frowning deeper, suddenly cold despite the heat of the tropics. “We’re together. You’re right here.”

But Revia just touched his hand, gently pulling away.

“I can’t stay,” she whispered, her voice beginning to echo as if underwater. “Promise me you’ll remember the good parts. And forget the rest.”

“No. Don’t say that.”

“Lance—please,” she said. “Don’t forget me.”

He reached for her but her figure began to fade.

“Revia!”

And suddenly….

The waterfall was gone.

In its place: a flash of rage, his father’s voice slamming into him like an impact.

“How many more excuses do you need to fail, Lance?”

“Do you even care about this team?”

“Grow up and prove you deserve it.”

“Always choking when it matters!”

“Why do you even try?”

Then another voice. A thousand voices.

Online. On fire. Unforgiving.

“He’s a joke.”

“Daddy’s money strikes again.”

“He doesn’t even belong in F1.”

“He washed out again. Another rich kid who can’t drive.”

“LOL he should retire.”

“Mental breakdown incoming.”

Then the screech of tires. The scream of carbon. Metal crumpling.

Another crash. Another impact.

He was falling. Faster. Faster.

Then he drowned…he can't breath and keeps flailing his arms and feet so he can get up to the surface. But it wasn't the surface.

Darkness. Cold. Wet tile.

He blinked. Gasped.

His eyes fluttered open and he realized…

He was on the floor of his own bathroom, fully clothed, drenched and shaking.

The cold wasn’t from a waterfall. It was from the shower that had been running for God knows how long.

His mother was screaming his name.

Claire Anne's hands were on his cheeks, frantically trying to keep him conscious.

“Lance! Baby, look at me…….

Lance!”

His sister Chloe was kneeling nearby, sobbing uncontrollably. Mascara streaked down her face. She kept whispering, "Please, please, ….."

His father stood frozen in the doorway. Pale. Speechless. The rage is absent. Just a man too stunned to breathe.

Lance blinked, delirious. “Revia?” he rasped.

Claire flinched. Chloe gasped.

“Where is she?” he looked around, panic rising. “She was right here, we were just in Bali. I swear, we were just…..she said goodbye……she said she—”

His mother and sister looked at each other and about to lose it too.

He tried to push himself up, limbs weak and uncoordinated, slipping in the puddle of water on the tile. He stumbled toward the counter, yanking his phone from where it had fallen, fingers trembling as he tapped through the camera roll.

“Look……look, I have photos—”

He scrolled. Faster. Desperate.

Nothing.

No waterfalls. No beaches. No Revia.

Only blank spaces and empty thumbnails where his mind swore there were memories.

“No. No, no, no…….where is she?” His voice cracked into a broken whisper. “She’s real. She has to be.”

Claire sobbed, turning her face into Chloe’s shoulder. Chloe cried harder, holding her mother with one hand and her phone in the other, already on the line with emergency.

“Lance…” Claire said through broken tears. “Sweetheart. She’s not real.”

He stared at her like she’d spoken in a foreign language.

“She was real,” he snapped, shaking his head. “She knew things. She laughed. She held my hand. She told me—”

“She was a dream,” Chloe choked out. “You were sick, Lance. You haven’t been okay.”

Lance stood there, eyes wide, chest heaving. Reality was crashing down faster than any race car he'd ever driven.

And suddenly, he stopped speaking. Stopped moving. His knees gave out, and he slid down the wall, phone clattering from his hands onto the tile.

He let out a low, strangled sob.

“She was real…” he choked

And then he cried. For real this time. Not in silence, not in private but fully, helplessly in front of his family. As his mother wrapped her arms around him and his sister held onto his legs.

The paramedics rushed in moments later. Someone said his name. Another pulled out a syringe. Everything was moving too fast. Too loud. Too bright.

Before the needle pierced his skin, he had one last thought:

“Don’t forget me,” she said.

And then, darkness took him again.

---

Months Later

The city felt quieter now.

Not because it was but because he was.

Lance stepped out of the clinic, pulling his hoodie up against the late afternoon breeze. The familiar rhythm of the streets no longer overwhelmed him. The static in his chest had lessened. Things weren’t fixed, but they were manageable.

Therapy had been going well.

Today’s session was light, checking in, unpacking the last dream he had about racing. The one where he wasn’t crashing, or running, or drowning in online noise.

In this one, he was just driving.

No finish line. No audience. Just wind, road, and peace.

His therapist had smiled when he described it. “That sounds a lot better,” she’d said.

He didn’t answer at the time.

But now, as he walked toward the café down the street, hands in his pockets, he realized…

Maybe she was right, who knows?

---

He ordered his usual. Matcha latte, no sugar.

The café was quiet. Warm lighting. Soft jazz in the background. The kind of place that invited stillness.

Lance was scrolling through his phone absentmindedly when he heard it.

> “One oat milk latte for… Revia?”

His head snapped up.

He almost dropped his phone.

There she was, at the other end of the counter. Wearing a long, tailored coat and heels. Her hair neatly pinned back, subtle makeup highlighting the same features he remembered. But she looked different. Sharper. Composed.

More elegant than the barefoot and adventurous girl who once danced beneath a waterfall.

His heart punched against his ribs.

Was she real?

He stepped forward slowly, eyes glued to her as if she might vanish again.

The barista called again. “Lance?”

He blinked, taking his cup.

They were side by side now. She was rummaging through her wallet.

“Damn,” she muttered, cheeks flushing slightly. “I’m short.”

Lance, without thinking, slid his card across the counter. “I got it.”

She looked at him.

A pause.

“Thanks,” she said politely, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll pay you back—”

“No need,” he smiled. Then took a breath. “I’m Lance, by the way.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, her eyes flicking up to his.

Like something registered—but not quite.

“I’m… Revia.”

There it was again. Her voice. The same melody that once lulled him into dreams.

Lance nodded, carefully.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

She smiled politely, still puzzled, but not unfriendly. “Thanks. Nice to meet you…and yeah… free coffee. ”

He chuckled. “Maybe.”

They stood there in a strange little bubble while the rest of the café carried on behind them.

For Lance, it was like déjà vu or fate playing a trick on him.

He didn’t press. Didn’t say you were in my head while I broke apart or you saved me even if you were never real.

He just said, “You come here often?”

“First time, actually,” she said, sipping her drink. “I just moved nearby. Starting a new job next week.”

He smiled.

Something in him like a familiar ache, a quiet longing settled.

Maybe this was a second chance.

Or maybe she was just a stranger with the same name, the same face.

He didn’t need an answer. For now.

“Then welcome to the neighborhood,” he said.

Revia - Hints at “revive” or “reverie”; beautiful and reflective

Elira- to be free or spirit

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goorgeousz · 18 days ago

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hi my pretty baby🤍how's life going?

i had a little idea this morning and thought i'd share it with you, it has some sugar daddy!Hotch , i don't really know if you like writing about that so i apologize if this is awkward.🥲🙏🏻

well, maybe hotch has a really young girlfriend who attends to the university, and one day an unsub attacks in that same university and hotch starts shouting orders more angry, more frustrated than in any other case, although it is not really an established relationship due to the large age difference, that is why it has that sugar daddy - sugar baby dynamic, maybe morgan, emily, or even jj are like, "hotch, you need to calm down" and he's so lost in his anger that he's like, "you really aren't understanding the gravity of this situation" and well, the team really doesn't understand why they feel so bad if they have dealt with worse things, but it's because really beyond the reader, my boy jack and hotch nobody knows about the relationship.

and he's so stressed and so frustrated because they don't really know who the person in danger is and hotch gets to a point where he wonders if she could be his girl.

and you know something like he didn't realize how much he cared and loved her until he felt like he might lose that with her, i love that twist like he just freaks out at the idea of not have her beyond what being her sugar daddy involves, in the end she's okay and the team sees this exchange of hugs and intense kisses, i love intense kisses with hotch lmao they feel really powerful🫠🥹 and she's also so relieved to see him that she sticks to him like gum, and there he is with a beautiful young girl under his arm while he shouts orders here and there😭😭 he makes sure to rub her arm to keep her grounded (once he's sure she's not hurt beyond emotional harm) and you know he kisses her head from time to time to let her know that he is still with her 😭😭♥️♥️

i don't know, right now i'm twenty-three years old and i'll ask Santa for a hotch, i swear.😂🥲

i'm going to say one thing i hate putting my beautiful man in a stressful situation like this but I'm also excited about the part where he just prostrates himself before the girl he loves even if she had to be almost attacked by a madman to do so.😶‍🌫️

anyway like i said, if this makes you uncomfortable, please, please ignore it,it was very specific,i apologize, also hope it makes sense🥲i love what you do here,it's an amazing place to be.✨🫶🏻

i send you all my love and a very tight hug 🫂💌

ps. english is not actually my first language, so i apologize if this is difficult to understand.

hello beautiful!!!! i’m so busy but finally feeling like I’m getting my life back on track 🥹 how about you??

oh i absolutely ate this request up!!! sugar daddy hotch???? reader in danger???? hotch panicking to protect his love????? relief kiss????? oh count me the fuck in.

asking santa for a hotch is so real😭 sometimes i get myself getting depressed bc he’s not real and i will never be with him…. so i write/read fanfiction! lol

it made perfect sense, i was so excited it ended up being longer than i expected (as it always get. so maybe i shouldn’t expect writing shorter fics anymore lmao) but i’m a sucker for backstory! hope you’re okay with that😭

sorry if it was a little more violent than you wanted it to be, i tried to ease it up a bit and focus more on his feelings but oh well you’ll see!!

thank you thank you thank you and thank you 1000x times for your kind words! people like you make this so much easier and fun!!!! and also, thank you for the amazing request!!!!! your brain ��🤌🏽 chefs kiss

english is also not my first language, so i hope i didn’t make any big mistakes lmao is hard to write technicalities in another language!

sending tons of love and kisses and hugs and a very clingy and protective hotch just for you💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

you can find your request here!

about time | aaron hotchner

#💗🪽reqs #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner angst #angst #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #fanfiction #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds angst

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yes-no-maybe-soo · 2 months ago

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Help I feel like the more I play the game, the more confused I get about Sylus' actions when he first appeared in the story, now replaying his first chapters after the new ones 😭 I mean, he has this past with MC and loves her, came to the n109 zone for her, and was the one to save her from the lab where she was essentially being tortured/killed over and over for profit, but when he finally meets his beloved again he treats her terribly? he chokes her, apparently keeps her captive for days trying to force resonate without giving any explanations, threatens her with his evol when she's hesitant to go to meet Philip, all while having the knowledge she was already traumatized before meeting him, grieving the sudden death of 2 loved ones and thinking he was the one behind it?

This isn't hate at all, I LOVE Sylus. But it's like he's a whole different person in that beginning. I was hoping you could help me make sense of it, because it just seems to fall out of line with everything we keep learning about him and seeing how deeply he cares for MC. Was that just the writers playing up the dark romance with big bad criminal trope or something? Or is there actually a good reason, storywise, for his initial treatment of her?

Ok first things first – You're absolutely right. Sylus does treat MC terribly at the start of LAR. You'll never catch me defending or trying to make excuses for his actions there regardless of his reasons. The narrative itself paints his actions as bad. And Sylus too realizes that they were, and that he went too far. And I've said it before and I'll say it here again – MC would have been justified in not forgiving him or in not wanting to have further contact with him. That's why her behavior in subsequent early cards never bothered me or struck me as "too mean". She could've been a lot meaner, actually. And this is coming from someone who broke down in the shower crying earlier over how bad I felt for Sylus and all he'd suffered during his separation from MC. But much as I love Sylus and recognize the selflessness and the purity of his love, I won't justify him when he acts like a red flag (which he does at certain moments in LAR. That's just the truth.).

That being said, I can try to speculate as to the explanation behind his actions. But bear in mind that we are still missing important backstory and lore for SylusMC's past before they got separated in the Deepspace Tunnel. And as such, more than likely missing context for why Sylus acts the way he does with MC. Why he is so rough and... seemingly a bit resentful. However, I do have theories/speculations regarding that that I'll get to in a bit... a long bit because... um... yeah this got... very long ijbol don't ever ask my autistic ass to write posts like this unless you're prepared for essays 😅

But first, I need to clear up an important misconception...

Sylus has never choked MC. Ever.

For one, he just would never do that. It goes against everything we know of him. He'd never lay his hands on MC with the intent of hurting her, much less to choke her out. Sylus himself hates being choked. Him doing that to the person he loves most in the world is inconceivable.

Just look at the way he cradles her whenever she is in small danger or in real danger

He wants to protect MC and make her stronger. Not injure her. Never that.

Then there's also the fact that the scene itself from the main story makes it clear that the choking never happened.

Look at this image here. You can clearly see Sylus' hand. Which wouldn't be possible if he were choking her. Just try wrapping your own hand around your neck, and you'll see what I mean.

MC also speaks and breathes heavily in the scene which she wouldn't be able to do if Sylus was choking her out (let's be real, she'd be dead if he did that).

It's clear that he is grabbing her chin and tilting it upwards to force her to look at him. To jog her memory.

And that is exactly why MC ends up passing out (in combination with having been drugged earlier by Sherman's goon). She is reacting to his eye, to the visions their soulbond causes her (bloodstained hands). If Sylus had choked her out, she wouldn't have been out of it for as long as she was (seemingly in and out for 3 days).

Now as for Sylus' subsequent behavior... it's bad. Plain and simple. And again I am not and never will be defending it. I am just trying to speculate as to why he would be behaving this out of character with what we know re: his treatment of and feelings for MC. Apart from obviously being shocked and hurt that the love of his life that he's exchanged souls with, searched the cosmos for, built his empire for, protected from the sidelines, waited 14 years for, doesn't remember him ofc. And also blames him for the death of her family and says she wants to kill him. So Sylus most definitely wasn't in his prime state of emotional or mental stability, which I do think accounts for some of his behavior. He hadn't expected any of this and for once doesn't really know how to properly handle the situation. Especially since for the vast amount of time they've been separated, he hasn't been used to being soft or gentle. He's been pretty much going from violent encounter to violent encounter. So safe to say he's a lot more rusty at being soft and gentle than memory (as in date card) Sylus is.

Then there is of course the possibility that being rough with each other was part of their past dynamic. They certainly were in the the dragon myth, and might very well have been the case in the nebula and after. So perhaps it just doesn't initially click for Sylus that Linkon MC is not the same hardened individual as she was in the past, and responds a lot differently to rough handling.

Now, I've seen people online that theorize that Sylus bears an active grudge or even hatred for MC. That that's where his rough treatment of her stems from. Granted, we don't know what happened before they were separated or under what terms they were. Maybe something went down between them. Maybe MC was somehow responsible for Sylus' imprisonment (there is merit to this assumption – Child MC threatens to throw Sylus into Tartarus, and adult Sylus does say this line at one point "You are my unforgivable sin in the fabric of eternity. The very thing that has imprisoned me" which is... interesting).

The point is, we have no idea how their separation came about nor Sylus' imprisonment. I will say however that I personally don't think it was violent or dramatic or even hateful, just because of these lines from Sylus "We were like flowers. We were meant to grow together in the same soil. Yet you were quietly moved to another garden in a foreign land. Still, you managed to grow beautifully." Idk to me that beautiful analogy isn't indicative of resentment or angry feelings over their separation, or of MC betraying him, which knowing MC she never would in the first place. She's as fiercely loyal as Sylus is, not to mention the fanbase reaction if "we" were to betray or own LI would not go down well. So I'm not terribly sold on MC actively betraying him... If she were somehow to blame for him landing in prison, I rather believe it to be a case of her perhaps committing a crime and Sylus taking the fall for it to protect her. Which would be in line with how he operates re: her. Idk I'm just yapping trying to say that I don't see MC betraying him or their separation being dramatic.

I have seen people speculate that Sylus went to earth to kill MC. That the fury we read about in the second Timelock Key is not directed at her situation, but at her. But that he changed his mind and let her live, only to wait for her to be stronger so he could kill her fairly.

I personally don't see this at all (again, I can be wrong). Because it doesn't line up with Sylus' emotions when he pinpoints MC's location (he is melancholy, sad. Not angry). And in my mind him wanting to kill MC doesn't line up with anything we know of him or his subsequent actions. Plus, killing MC would play into the hands of fate. And Sylus' whole thing so far has been giving fate a giant middle finger.

And I don't believe that Sylus was even angry at MC in LAR and that he took her to Philip's to make her stronger to get revenge and kill her. Why?

Look at his expression here. Look at his eyes. To me it's plain that he isn't doing this out of malice or feelings of revenge. But out of desperation. A feeeling that he has to do this.

Then there is also this reaction when he learns that MC rejects him, fears him, and is disgusted by him.

If Sylus was intent on killing MC... why would he give a shit? Why would he change his ways for the better?

If Sylus harbors resentment for MC, why does that all seemingly leave here? It shows up nowhere in Death and Rebirth, for instance.

And in the iconic scene in LAR where they dance, he looks at her like this

Mind you this takes place like... one or two days after the incident at Philip's shop?

Hell, he even looks at her with love in his eyes when they first come face to face again

Doesn't look terribly much to me like a man who harbors hatred or anger or a desire to kill, but that's just me and my interpretation.

And then there is his iconic line from Razor's Grip ( a card that takes place very early on in their chronology and well before they begin to date) "You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine"

Not the words of a man who would a) choke said object of adoration or b) originally land on earth to kill her, and then plan to kill her for the next 14 years or c) who's love is secretly mingled with hatred and darker feelings. That is not what can be described as as a pure love.

And lastly...

Sylus himself claims that he hasn't ever been genuinely mad at MC. Which if he had wanted revenge or to kill her... he definitely would have been, right?

Anyway this a very longwinded and probably overly detailed way of saying... I don't think that Sylus' actions in LAR were guided by anger or malice.

I believe they were guided by fear and desperation.

By a need for her to grow stronger so that she can both control her latent powers and face off the future threat that is for sure on the horizon.

I mean at the end of Death and Rebirth Sylus even offers to help MC with exactly that. To become stronger.

And to be perfectly honest, I think desperation and fear for her safety and survival best fits his demeanor and just how far he is willing to go in LAR. Remember, he actually overrides his core principles in that part of the story – consent and autonomy (which I believe is part of the reason why he gets so distraught later and why he never again lets desperation take over. He realizes just how badly he fucked up, how far he overstepped). I genuinely cannot see any other scenario where Sylus would do that, apart from one where he's losing his sanity to his dragon instinct or something. He has shown time and time again how much he values MC's freedom of choice and action and consent.

We know that Sylus knows about Gaia. He knows about EVER. He knows about MC. He knows that she is a target for future use and abuse. He knows that her powers can potentially spiral out of control.

And he knows that if she is to survive against future threats, she needs to be stronger. So I think the main reason why he is so forceful and treats MC roughly is a combination of his hurt and surprise and not knowing how to act over the fact that she doesn't remember and distrusts and hates him, and also his desperation to ensure that she both regains her memories and gets stronger. He thinks he's acting for her wellbeing, and at first doesn't mind being rough or forceful if that will ultimately save her. Because in his mind, talking to MC and trying to explain to her wouldn't do any good – in her eyes he is a big evil threatening criminal that killed her family and then forced her to resonate for three days. Why on earth would she listen to him much less believe him?

So, force it is. The ends justifies the means... If the ends is that she will be stronger and able to survive.

Or at least, that's what I think his mindset was at the time. It's really only when Philip both tells Sylus that MC is disgusted by him and that altering MC could potentially damage her for life that Sylus lets go of his plan (and we see him do it with obvious anguish). Then he almost certainly steps out and does some serious self reflecting, realizing that regardless of his intentions and his pain, he went too fucking far. That this has done far more damage than good and that he could have approached things better. After which he noticeably changes.

And that is what is so impactful about Sylus' character to me. The fact that he recognizes just how fucked up his behavior was and course corrects. That takes a lot of maturity. And his development because of it is all the more satisfying to me.

To end off this incredibly long post – I am sure that there are other reasons for Sylus' behavior, and I recognize that my interpretation is not more likely to be correct than most others'. I am just working purely off of the info we have as if right now (which isn't a lot) and what makes most sense personally to me. And again, I am in no way excusing Sylus. He was in the wrong no matter how you spin it. He is flawed, and I won't ever make excuses or pretend as though said flaws don't exist. If I did, it would be a disservice to both MC and to Sylus and to the writers. He is also complex and grey and sometimes... well, sometimes people just do strange and seemingly inexplicable stuff when they're faced with unexpected and stressful situations. Again, no excuse here for his behavior, just an explanation.

But rest assured that Sylus loves MC and always has. His love for her is by his own admission pure. And if there's one thing Sylus never does, it's lie.

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thechildofshadows · 5 months ago

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THE BOY AND HIS WINE CELLAR

Avery Grambs x Jameson Hawthorne - 1.6k

MASTERLIST

hello! I did say that I would write something, and that I would get it would a week or two after Valentine's ... so it's been about three weeks, it's been a month, okay? This fic is dedicated to @saythewordheiress, who posted asking for a fic where Jameson takes care of drunk Avery ... I wanted to give Jamie some backstory, and now i have a completely different fic. mb girl, I'll get back to you on that. This fic has a lot of time-skips. TW for alcohol addiction, which I definitely didn't write accurately. I rated this Teen on Ao3, so read with a little bit of caution. It focuses on our king JH and his relationship with alcohol through the years (two years). It places a heavy emphasis on his damaged relationship with Grayson (I always thought it was sad that they were at each other's throats so often). TLDR : If you wanted fluff, you've come to the wrong place, if you wanted bourbon, you've come to the right one. be back in a week (or a day!) for that drunk Avery fic. Enjoy!

“Where are you going?” I asked him. After everything it has taken to get to this point, he couldn’t just walk away. “To hell, eventually,” Jameson answered. “Probably to the wine cellar, for now.” -Jennifer Lynn Barnes, The Inheritance Games

Jameson Hawthorne: NOW

The tabloids thought that Jameson loved alcohol. They weren’t entirely wrong.

He loved the buzz it gave him, and how free it made him feel.

It didn’t hurt that Hawthornes were blessed with one of the highest alcohol tolerances known to man.

Did he love the actual drinks themselves? Hell no. For a majority of his life, he didn't see the point in alcohol. But the first time he'd had something that actually hit-

It was a beautiful feeling and he enjoyed it so much.

Maybe too much.

Jameson had been at his first gala when Nash handed him a glass of wine. He took it. He’d seen the adults drink during dinner before, but never took any sips, since being drunk felt like a hindrance. But there wasn’t much he could do that day and the function was dragging on and on. He had his first glass of wine at thirteen years old.

It tasted like shit. He preferred coffee.

But that didn’t stop him from trying a shot at a party one night. Country Day had won a state golf tournament, and everyone was gathered at the house of some rich socialite. There were whiskey shots lined up on the table, and an open bar. Jameson tried some whiskey, conveniently named after himself.

It tasted like shit. He preferred coffee.

Oh how that’s changed, he thought, moving out of the living room, and going upstairs.

Jameson Hawthorne: Age 17

Emily Laughlin left the world after Jameson turned 17. And, he supposed, she took Grayson with her. Their former bond was irreparably wrecked. And Jameson felt that the only reason he’d mourned for so long was because he’d lost his brother too. His closest brother. His favorite. His first friend. They had done everything together when they were younger, and now they couldn't be in the same room as each other. Their longest argument before had lasted a grand total of three days, and both had been miserable and forgot about the problem after two hours. This one seemed significantly worse.

But he'd loved Emily as well. He had. They had done so much together in such little time. She understood him better than anyone, she understood everything. They were both trapped when all they wanted was to be free. He thought she loved him. And she died.

He was so tired. So tired.

The next day, three bottles were missing from the wine cellar. Smashed glass of a Scottish whiskey bottle was found on the grass, almost as it it had been dropped from the roof.

Jameson snuck into the cellar for what may have been the second time that week. He relished the adrenaline high he got when he drank, and had developed a taste for whiskey.

He reached for the nearest bottle, but it moved.

His lips parted in confusion, and his eyes widened as they fell on Tobias Hawthorne himself.

The usual teasing smile on the man’s face had gone and he was frowning at Jameson.

“This is enough.”

Jameson held back an eyeroll, and Tobias continued. “Over a thousand dollars of drinks are gone, and you’re giving the tabloids something worse and worse each month.”

Jameson gritted his teeth. “It’s always about you, isn’t it Grandfather? Does it matter how I feel? Never! It’s always the tabloids and what they think!”

His grandfather narrowed his eyes. “The girl is dead.”

It’s not about Emily.

“She’s been dead for several months.”

It’s never been about Emily.

“It’s been too long.”

But you think it is-

“Once we leave, this door will lock, and the key is going to be hidden exactly where you think it is.”

-because it’s less painful to think about her than ... other people.

Jameson turned to leave, and promptly crashed into a wall, falling over. Oh crap, how much did I drink?

I'm wasted.

“I should not find you here again.”

Jameson knew better than to go against his grandfather. “Fine.” And he actually left the room, managing to make it back to his room in one piece.

Change didn't come quickly. But Jameson was a Hawthorne, and Hawthornes can do everything.

Jameson Hawthorne: Age 18

Jameson avoided the cellar like the plague.

He knew his grandfather, and he knew himself. There had to be traps in the hallway and stairs, Tobias would never leave something with just a warning.

It wasn't easy. He was miserable (Ask Nash). But he found himself reaching back towards the coffee bar, and slowly regaining back his abilities as a barista.

Jameson had spent a year cultivating his cooking skills, and used an entire month developing his coffee-making talents. Now, he found it therapeutic, following the same instructions, or even trying something new.

And that was how he found himself reaching one month, fully sober.

His birthday came and went. He drank coffee.

So did Grayson’s. He drank coffee then, too.

They still didn’t talk and it made Jameson want to rip his hair out. (Again, no one said it would be easy abruptly quitting alcohol.)

But a few weeks later, Tobias Hawthorne died.

Jameson went to the cellar.

There were no traps anywhere. The key was inside the lock, and when he went inside, there was a note on the whiskey.

I’m sorry. I wanted better for you.

Nash had run out of his stash of cheap vodka and had told a slightly less drunk Grayson to get some more.

He went to the wine cellar, looking for a bottle, and instead found his brother, already gone through multiple drinks.

Their consciousness had passed the point of rivalries, and spent the night sharing a few bottles of whiskey. Their drunken laments were somehow understood by each other, and after a few more drinks, they didn’t need words to communicate anymore. Had they not been blackout drunk, one would’ve thought they were seven again, seemingly talking with more than words.

Grayson woke up the next morning, on a couch across from his brother.

He left the room immediately.

Jameson woke up a few hours later with a killer hangover,, and figured he moved the sheets while he was drunk.

Interesting feeling. Jameson got drunk often, but never to the point of blacking out. Getting that drunk gave him a killer hangover and rendered him useless for about half the day.

He smelled tequila, something he had never developed a taste for. Grayson was the only person in the house who drank it, and Jameson knew better than to touch that corner of the wine cellar.

What the hell did I do?

Grayson never told him.

No one usually checked on Jameson, and after Tobias had died, no one went to the backyard either.

Of course, she wasn’t no one.

She found him on the balcony railing, drunk and shirtless, and the first thing he had done was give her a riddle. He didn’t know why Tobias had required her presence, but he was going to make it fun for himself.

And she'd solved it, too. Maybe she's more than just a puz-

NO.

He would’ve gone down for more bourbon, but the house was Avery’s now, even though she probably didn’t know that it even existed.

Avery.

Tobias Hawthorne usually had a reason behind every one of his actions, but Jameson couldn’t figure out his reasoning behind this one.

And that made her all the more fun.

Bourbon might be good for me, if I get to meet pretty girls.

He mentally slapped himself. That’s not fair.

They had a connection.

He tried to deny it, but they had a connection.

He’d connected with his grandfather. He’d connected with Grayson. He thought he’d connected with Emily, and both had left him. (Though things seemed to be getting better with Gray.)

Or so he thought.

Then he found out she was in the coma.

He went down to the wine cellar, and reached for the bottle of vodka.

And then he paused.

Do I want to be drunk when she’s awake?

Do I want to forget?

But I don’t want to feel…

But she will wake up. And when she does, I’m going to do everything right.

Jameson walked out of the cellar and locked the door. And that means no more day drinking.

Goodbye, room. I owe you a lot.

Avery wasn’t going to die.

But when Alisa moved her out of the hospital, Jameson had to be held back by Xander and Grayson from almost punching her in the face.

“She could’ve died!” He yelled, his voice growing hoarse with the volume. “No amount of money is worth her life, Alisa! You had no right-“

“It had to be done, Jameson.”

“No it didn’t! She-“

“One of us is a professional, and it isn’t you. The situation isn’t ideal-”

“Ideal?” He choked out. To even plan for this scenario… “Damnit, Alisa.”

Nash walked out of Avery’s room with Libby, and upon seeing his brother about to throw hands with Alisa, dragged Jameson toward his room. He offered Jameson a bottle of whiskey, and his eyebrows shot up when Jameson refused.

“No? It’s been long few days, Jamie," Nash sat down next to Jameson. "and there used to be a time where you weren’t seen without at least a drink down.”

Jameson nodded, staring at his hands. “Need to be sober if she wakes up.”

“When. She’ll wake up. She’s strong, Jameson.”

“She is.”

Avery woke up later that week, and Jameson almost collapsed with relief.

Jameson Hawthorne: NOW

Jameson reached the roof and stared at the sky.

Once in a lifetime, you meet someone you love so much, you become a better version of yourself for them.

The moon shined down as Jameson dug through his pockets. He opened the small velvet box, and the light reflected off the diamond on the ring.

I love you with more than words.

Thank you for being mine, Avery Kylie Grambs.

Alright, how do we feel after 1.6k words of sad? please like, reblog and leave feedback in the notes. Or just throw watermelons at me. Anything works. I will balance out all of this angst with fluff, give me a week. and if you want to be added to the taglist, which does not yet exist, just let me know somehow, put it in the notes somewhere. This fic is green (because I'm Irish) because I love green (because Jameson's eyes are green), and I'm not technically Irish. Happy March, leprechauns. (This is my formal apology to saythewordheiress, who was tagged without consent. I'm very sorry.) (dividers are from @/cafekitsune)

#the inheritance games #tig #averyjameson #js a little bit #grayson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #avery grambs #tig fic #tw addiction #sorta

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mortalfaerie · 2 months ago

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ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪʀᴅɪᴇ ᴀᴜ

(aka "y/n called birdie" ifykyk)

the birdie au is a reader-insert (wip) narrative + collection of one-shots centered on the slow-burn romance between ellie williams and the reader (nicknamed "birdie" in universe). here's what you need to know:

"ʙɪʀᴅɪᴇ" ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅ ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴛᴜᴄᴋ

your name isn't birdie - it's your nickname. to avoid using y/n, however, you have a nickname your grandfather used and now most people refer to you by. it's made very clear in the narrative that this is only a nickname, though your actual name is purposefully never stated.

so who are you? well, you. but your in-universe backstory goes like this:

your grandfather was a doctor in chicago before the outbreak who avoided initial infection out of pure luck - he had taken the week off and so not come into contact with infected patients. when the outbreak began, he and his daughter (your mother) were moved to the nascente QZ where FEDRA soon exploited his skills

you were born in 2009 in the chicago QZ. in 2012, civil war in the QZ broke out between the liberation groups and FEDRA. sometime between 2012 and 2016, your mother and father were killed in the crossfire. prior to that point they had been planning to escape, and now your grandfather took you (between 3-7) and escaped, heading west

by 2017 you had made it jackson, where the first settlement was being established and fortified. they had need of a doctor and so you two were welcome to stay. when they town expanded and the population grew, they helped convert an old walk-in clinic into a tiny hospital your grandfather oversaw. another settler was an experienced nurse (Tara) and joined him there, and you were practically raised there in the clinic watching them.

you learned most things on the fly in the clinic, and when you grew older, your grandfather decided to train you to one day take his place. the jackson public library and local school had textbooks and test prep books and materials he used to teach you the foundations of chemistry, biology, and practical medicine so you could begin assisting in the clinic.

by the time you were 14, you often manned the reception desk checking people in and writing down their concerns to take to your grandfather for triage. that's how you met ellie for the first time when she and joel arrived in jackson.

working in the clinic while other kids were outside, bonding and training and hanging out around campfires, you didn't have that many friends - but you had your dog, brontë, and you were pretty content with that. but after an initially hostile interaction and a forced apology from ellie, the two of you became something approaching friends.

bonus: brontë

brontë was born in the kennels as part of a litter (all named after old writers) meant to become patrol dogs. however, she was the runt with one underdeveloped back leg that was likely to need amputation. when you were 13, you overheard your grandfather being asked to put her down since she couldn't be a patrol dog and you begged and pleaded with him to be able to keep her. the leg had to go because it unbalanced her and made it difficult for her to walk, and so he caved and agreed to do the procedure and keep her on the condition that you were responsible for taking care of her. since then, she's been your closest companion and follows you everywhere, including the clinic - where she's a hit with the little kids. she's goofy, affectionate, and loyal, and you wouldn't trade her for the world.

a note about inclusivity; though i am writing the reader as 1) afab and 2) using she/her pronouns, i am making a concentrated effort to avoid any other physical description about appearance/body size/etc. that being said, i've never written a reader-insert as long as i intend this to be and i probably will slip up at least once! if you notice that (and since i don't have a beta reader), please *respectfully* notify me and i'll edit it out. :)

#ellie williams #the last of us #ellie williams x reader #tlou part 2 #tlou hbo #ellie x reader #birdie au

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edgeray · 1 year ago

Note

oh yes i meant when the reader is pregnant if u can, not in a nsfw way im sorry i made it unclear😭

Dragon Hunter Mother Part 4

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N -Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 It is once again dragon time, guys. I've written three dragon-related things straight 😩. The part you guys have been waiting for. Actual romance, hell yeah. Extra fluff for that one annoying moot (you know who you are 😡). It’s a bit short compared to the other parts for this series, but probably because there's no new lore dump. Guys, I’ve thought so far into this au, please feel free to ask questions about this AU outside of requests. I am dying to talk about random bits of lore I made up (such as Arle's backstory that I won't be able to write). Also this isn't the end. Because there is going to be a Part 5. What the fuck, guys /j. Hi anons!! Yes, you can be 🦊 anon and 👅anon. I'm sorry for how late this was first anon, I know I kept you for a while 😭. Also I'm sorrry for not being able to fulfil parts of your request because a) jealous arle wouldn't make sense given the worldbuilding, and b) i don't write nsfw of any kind. Sorry. I'm not going to include how exactly you're pregnant because it makes me uncomfortable writing it, so I'll just leave it up to your interpretation. Please don't let these discourage you from requesting from me :). I always try my best to satisfy every request as long as it's reasonable and within my rules. Content warnings / info - no warnings :), 1.8k words

Recovering from the infected wound didn't take long–in fact, it only took a week to be fully healthy, and the wound was healing nicely. Arlecchino was able to take care of everything while you were bedridden. You were surprised by how diligent and aware she seemed to be of taking care of you, especially as a dragon, but you didn't question it. She has had several decades of experience before you, you wouldn't be surprised if she picked up on a few things about humans.

It's been about four months since the dragon hunters incident, and you have yet had another situation like that. Venturing into the town you had previously been going to was no longer safe, and so you began frequenting another bordering village. It was a bit further away, but because it turned out to be a port town, it ended up providing you with a lot more food and resources you previously couldn't access; including: fresh fish, more meat and produce, and more clothes and fabric.

The trio have grown big enough to which you ride on top of one of them with no difficulty. They not only increased in size, but also their affection for you, crawling into your lap or climbing your back, or simply pouncing on any limb and holding onto you tightly. The same could be said for you, you no longer saw them as children, but your children. Arlecchino tells you that they refer to you as ‘Mother’ often.

Speaking of Arlecchino, she is no longer the standoffish dragon she was before the dragon hunters incident. On certain days, she can be just as clingy, if not more, than the children, although she would vehemently deny it with a scoff if you are to ever bring it up. Over time, she was less dragon, and more human to you, and with that, your attraction towards her continued to blossom. Your current relationship status with her is still strange, neither of you had ever labeled it on human standards, nor have the two of you ever ‘courted’ one another–in human or in draconic methods. Still, neither the two of you could miss the glances or the way you hold each other.

Lately, the past few weeks, she has been acting strange. She's been exiting the cave more often alone, leaving you with her children to tend to, not that you mind. She returns hours later, usually with some type of wild animal she caught for you: deer, the occasional bear or moose, sometimes even pigs. You often stand at the entrance of the cave, dumbfounded as she drags the dead creature by her teeth in her dragon form, while the hatchlings salivate. If it's not wild animals, it's usually an arrangement of different colored stones she found along the shores or in the river. You appreciate them, but you're no less puzzled by the intention with each gift.

You tried to wrack your brain of why she would be behaving like this, but you can’t come up with anything. It also seemed like with every gift you received, she became more and more… saddened? You weren't entirely sure for the reason, but you don't want to offend her by questioning her more. As the weeks pass by, and she disappears more and more, it seems like Arlecchino is… moping.

You have asked the children multiple times, but all they do is give you a pointed look before jerking their head towards their Father and letting out a rumble. When you approach Arlecchino, asking what was troubling her, all she does is shake her head, her subtle pout ever so slightly intensifying. Finally, having enough of Arlecchino staring blankly at her hands for hours straight, you finally come up to her, taking her clawed hands in yours and gaze into her eyes.

“Arlecchino. Tell me what's wrong,” you demand gently but firmly, kissing her knuckles.

The dragon stays silent, turning away from you, making your eye twitch.

“Please…” You plead.

Arlecchino seems hesitant to answer, opening her mouth before closing it several times. She contemplates something deeply, then lets out a steady exhale.

“I've been… making courting attempts towards you,” she quietly admits, her cheeks flushing the slightest amount. “But… it seems like you're unreceptive to it because you're human.”

Courting attempts? As if she was trying to establish a romantic relationship with you? No, it’s not courting as in ‘human courting.’ If it has to do with dragons, then perhaps it means–

“You… you want me as your mate?” You whisper out loud, your face undeniably warm at the realization, and your lips quirk up to the faintest smile.

The dragon nods timidly, so unbefitting for a strong beast like herself. She peers at you intently, searching and analyzing every twitch of your face to come up with her own answer. You let out a huff, raising your arms to cup the sides of her face in your palms. The cold texture of her skin will never be an unwelcome sensation.

“You could have told me instead of pouting like one of our children,” you chuckle, stepping closer to lean your forehead against her chest, feeling her thumping heart through it.

“I didn't know if you wanted to be since… you never responded to my attempts. I know that it's silly seeing that you're human, but I felt more and more discouraged…” Her voice is low and vulnerable, and it makes you want to do nothing more but hold her in your arms forever.

“You really still have so many things to learn about humans,” you giggle, pressing your lips against her nose. Fingers card through Arlecchino's silky locks, and you hum contently.

“What do you mean?”

You grin knowingly. “We like more direct expressions of our desires.”

You stand on your tiptoes before leaning in, warm lips gracing cold ones as you pull her towards you. Your arms lock around her neck, keeping the two of you against each other. Quickly, Arlecchino responds, pressing her mouth against yours fervently while her fangs prick your bottom lip. You groan into the kiss, and squeak when her hands slide down to your behind, lifting you up from your feet and wrapping your legs around her waist.

The two of you pull away, and there's almost a feral look in her eyes.

“There's somewhere I have to take you to,” she growls in your ear, and you can't deny that it makes your stomach coil, your loins burning.

“Okay…” You murmur, holding onto her tightly. She carries you with ease, walking out of the cave and following along the edge of the mountain's base. It takes only about ten minutes until you spot a small opening, another cavern. Arlecchino takes you inside, and your eyes widen at the sight.

It's a nest, a careful structure supported by stones as the foundation with the sides from branches and sliced tree trunks, before the top is covered in an assortment of blankets and pillows. However, it's smaller and cozier than the nest at home–as if it's made for humans. You carefully step into it, sitting down and finding it pleasantly comfortable.

“Arlecchino…” you gasp out with whispered awe.

“Yes…?”

“Where did you get the money for this?” You question, holding a heap of the numerous silk blankets in your arms, giving her a pointed look knowing damn well it wasn't your money.

The dragon brings a claw to her face and scratches nervously. “I had Lyney search the bodies of the dragon hunters for anything of value. They had quite a hefty sum,” Arlecchino confesses.

You sigh in relief, glad that no weaver or innocent person was harmed in getting this. “It's lovely. Is this what you've been leaving the cave for for so long?”

Arlecchino nods, her voice bashful. “It's… it's a mating nest, so that if it were to happen the children would not be there. I wanted to ask you here…”

The dragon walks inside the nest, before kneeling down before you, her clawed hands gingerly finding yours and holding them in her large palms. “Would you like to be my mate?”

“I thought my answer was obvious. Of course,” you answer, smiling. “But isn't mating season in another two months?”

She nods in response. “I wanted to prepare as early as possible. I wanted everything to be perfect.” ‘For you,’ she leaves out, but you know it's what she implies.

“It is perfect. Thank you… though I feel bad,” you murmur, your own face flustered by your embarrassment. “It took me this long to realize. I guess… I should make it up to you by courting you back, right?”

Arlecchino flushes, her face visibly reddening. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you've courted me with how dragons usually do it. I will do the same, but with humans. Does that sound alright?” You offer, giving her the largest grin.

Arlecchino's face softens, leaning down and pressing her forehead against you. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds alright,” she murmurs against your lips.

—

Three months have passed by since then.

Safe to say, you’re pregnant.

Arlecchino’s attentiveness towards you had always been impressive, but it borders on extreme with how much she pampers you. Before the mating season, you've taught her all you can about human civilization and socialization so that in the instance you won't be able to travel to town yourself, she can instead. While you always have saved up a lot of money from your time as a dragon hunter, she likes to spend it on you unreservedly.

It would be endearing if it weren't the excessive amount of blankets in the nest, as if you weren't warm enough. Not to mention the amount of books she's gotten you. Since she doesn't exactly know how to navigate a bookstore, or how to differentiate between different genres of books, she’s gotten you dictionaries, children's book, erotica even. She was blissfully unaware why you read a page for a few seconds, shut the book immediately, took a deep breath before reopening the book, only to reshut it as well, repeating the same process. You didn't want her to get any… ideas.

Currently, Arlecchino was in her dragon form, nestled around you protectively from any gusts of wind that may pass through the cave entrance, her tail thumping against the floor softly. Her head rests besides you, her throat rumbling gratifyingly as you run your hand over her snout.

The trio are currently fighting over some of the beef jerky you mistakenly bought for them, unaware of the chaos it would ensue in the cave. They seem to forget that you can return to the town to buy them more… Ah well, hatchlings will be hatchlings.

You wonder how much more lively the cave will be with another one.

#arlecchino x you #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fics #genshin fanfics #genshin fics #edgeray.writes #edgeray.requests #edgeray.🦊anon #edgeray.👅anon

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mia-can-yap-too · 3 months ago

Text

0. Prologue

synopsis:- A witch has kidnapped you. Do as she says or die.

warnings:- crack, light-hearted kidnapping

dividers by @/strangergraphics

It started with cereal. That's how you know everything is about to go wrong.

Now, it technically isn't a crime to eat cereal for lunch on a day you had considered a 'No Pants Day'. You were halfway through a thrilling showdown between your spoon and the stubborn chunk of Lucky Charms stuck on the bottom of the bowl. Very important stuff.

You were in your element. Slouchy hoodie, bad posture, inner monologue at full volume.

Then came a whoosh! and suddenly, air shimmered, and lights flickered, and your cereal floated for approximately half a second. And just like that, you weren't in your kitchen anymore.

Which bring you to now. You are sitting in a chair in what seems to be a small, cozy, and slightly crooked cottage. All around you are books, teacups, and something that smelled of cinnamon and existential dread.

Standing in front of you is a woman in a green cloak, who is nervously wiping the sweat off her brow.

"Oh my! I didn't think it would actually work! That's the first time I've tried that spell! Aren't I so amaz— Where are your pants?!"

Instinctively, you press your thighs together. "It's 'No Pants Day'," you make up an excuse.

The witch raises a brow. "'No Pants Day'? You mortals sure have some weird holidays... Anyways, you're not dressed for travel. I was hoping to catch you while you were more... well-prepared."

You blink. "Am I dreaming? Oh my God, I knew I drank too many Monster Energy Drinks... Are you a hallucination?"

She snorts. "God, I wish. I'm Mia, the best witch you'll ever meet in your life. Sorry for the inconvenience and all, but I need you to run some... errands for me."

"Like groceries? I can do that."

She grimaces. "No, it's a bit more complicated than that. You see, I might have accidentally destroyed some very important books. You know, fairytales, old legends, shit like that. All of those have been erased. Completely. Like how James Charles wishes his past crimes were. Now, I need someone to go into those stories and complete them again as a way to rewrite them. You happen to be that perfect someone!"

You furrow your brows. "Why can't you do it yourself?"

"Because of narrative affinity and other stuff you won't get because I'm the one with the Bachelors in Witchcraft here," she rolls her eyes. "Also, the characters don't like me very much. Something about meddling with backstories and stuff."

"Well, why me?"

She pulls out a scroll. It has your name on it. As well as your browser history.

"I'll be ignoring some of the things in here and get straight to the point. You've read 300 fantasy novels, wrote an essay on the impact of fairytales on all forms of art, and named your cat after a dragon. Do not act surprised."

"Okay, I admit to doing all that, but I'm not sure... it sounds quite dangerous. Also, I have work on Monday, so."

Mia seems a bit fed up with you. She sighs heavily. "It will be alright. Only some things will change, because you can't always write the same damn thing time and time again, can you? Other than that, I'm pretty sure you'll be a-okay! Besides, it's not like you have a choice, anyways..."

You stare at her. She is right. She's the one with the upper hand here. You don't even know where you are.

Fine, then. You will fix everything. As long as your boss doesn't get mad on Monday...

"Alright," you sigh. "What do I have to do?"

"Really?! Thank you!" Mia beams. "All you have to do is solve the main issue in the story and romance the main character. Easy peasy!"

"How will I get back?"

"Oh, you just have to think of this place again."

"That's all?" you ask, skeptical.

"Yup! Off you go! But first, for the love of God, wear some pants, please."

taglist:- @jeonwiixard

Once upon a Prince – Masterlist

#once upon a prince – the series #in print #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader

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dunmeshistash · 4 months ago

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Marvelous day to you, good sir/ma'am! I have a burning question in dire need of answering, and thus I have decided to turn to the one and only Monster Mashing Morbius Master John "Dunmeshi" Stash for help!

(Well, actually, I have multiple burning question but I'm saving those other questions for later since I'd like to do some research beforehand when I have the time before I resort to asking more questions.)

For a while now, I have been compiling my thoughts on all of Dungeon Meshi's characters and summing up different interpretations for myself, and this has been going swimmingly all things considered! However, one of these characters I have seen very little interpretations of aside from a handful of incredible fan fictions is the one and only "guy of all time"! Toshiro Nakamoto! Most people I talk to about the fella don't really have anything to say that I myself don't already think; that being that he's definitely the person of all time, a well-written character, understandably though no less dreadfully non-communicative, a poor team leader who could most definitely use some improvement, is complicit in Izutsumi's treatment—which, for the record, I think is good writing and makes sense, especially for the time, though that doesn't mean I won't hold it against him either way—and immensely patient for being able to put up with that little bell thing whatchamacallit. Overall he is just well-written, and his confrontation with Laios—not to mention the way Laios responds—is just... mwah! Chef's kiss! Both sides of that particular fight were also pretty relatable to me and taught me something valuable. It's just... a really good fight scene! Me likey! Life lessons with Dungeon Meshi, hahaha!

I get that there's likely not a whole lot else to go through since he doesn't appear all that often and really is just the person to ever exist, but before I wanted to move on to the next character, I decided to hop by and see if perhaps you'd be willing to share your opinion on him! Maybe you have something interesting I hadn't considered!

If you don't, though, that's perfectly understandable! Regardless, I hope you have a jolly good day! I hope this is not too silly of a question.

Hello! I'm happy to answer any questions so don't worry about sending them!

That said I'm maybe not the best person to ask opinions about Toshiro since I'm a known "not fan" of him, I have come to like him more compared to when I first finished dunmeshi but I probably still have some biases, I'll try not to lean too negative on this tho

With that in mind here's my thoughts

I think Toshiro is a great well written character too! His fight with Laios is amazing and I think on his side of the conflict is a culmination of his worst flaw: He's terrified of confrontation and just passively expects things to resolve themselves.

In the example of the Ogre extra he WANTS to do something about Tade being so thankfull to someone who enslaved her but he wont because he's afraid of challenging how things are/afraid of conflict/confrontation.

I don't think he's a bad person tho, I think he's just passively going thru the motions of life, Toshiro is constantly just thrown around by the people around him without resisting it, he didn't to go to the Island of his own accord: he's there because his father made him go, he didn't choose the retainers that went with him and he didn't even choose to join Laios' party, he just let it happen to him (which is also relatable unfortunately, get a grip man)

Even when having to speak up against Laios in their backstory comic Namari has to pull him to join them in the complaint, he wasn't gonna say anything even if it did bother him (unclear if it did)

Letting other people push and pull you around is also choice tho, he barely tries to resist them and never makes his boundaries clear. In a way him and Falin are similar actually, how both of them just go with what other people want instead of what they themselves want, their reasons are very different (Falin does it because it's what she thinks her loved ones want/need of her, Toshiro does it because he would rather not fight against it) but it is a harmful situation for both of them, you gotta live for yourselves guys.

The thing is that it's not like it doesn't bother him to be pushed around, in the Laios fight years of bottled up emotions finally burst out and he says everything he was holding in the worst way possible, instead of managing his frustrations and setting boundaries with Laios he held it all in until he couldn't anymore, my man is not good at communication or handling conflict.

In another example he gets pissed off at Maizuru for using the Hag to scare him as a kid but also decides not to say anything about it, his relationship with Maizuru is actually also based on repressed feelings that he would rather bottle up and not think about (maybe these too will burst out one day if he doesn't properly deal with it)

But the thing about Toshiro I like the most honestly it's his feelings towards Falin, I might have made fun of him for literally goin "I like her cause she's not like other girls" but honestly I get it, she's a mystery, someone who is always only doing things for other people, and he saw her showing genuine interest in something that wouldn't matter for most people, or most people would find disgusting, so he was interested in her.

People joke that Falin and Laios are the same so Toshiro should like Laios too but Falin isn't as open and bold as Laios, so I think Toshiro wants to actually get to know her, but as I understand for his culture being interested in a woman and wanting to be close to her means asking her in marriage? and so he did, and even then he was still not being clear about his feelings.

That's why I LOVE the extra where him and Falin are finally honest and direct to each other, they're both people who just accept what others push onto them, Falin herself never gave him a response for a year cause she similarly would rather avoid conflict, but here they finally start being honest and direct with each other. I'm pretty sure he knew what her response would be but he still clearly told her and accepted her answer, my man confronted something uncomfortable gracefully, good job.

I avoided speaking on the more negatives opinions I have cause I believe those are what most people talk about but even with the negatives I think Toshiro has room to grow and definitely seems to already be on that path, like Maizuru says he has potential to be a great leader, he just needs to finally take charge of his own life and not be afraid to disrupt how things are

Just as a final thought I wish (some) people realized he has power over his retainers and even Maizuru, who people think is the source of his trauma, is still just a subordinate that can't really do anything against him. The source of his trauma is his father who also has power over Maizuru and made her raise his son (while still having an affair with her) if you're gonna blame someone for how he is blame his father smh

#ask #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi thoughts #longpost #long post #Sorry this took a few days to answer cause I kept rewriting #Might have missed some details or gotten something wrong?#I havent reread dunmeshi in a bit and shuro isnt really a character I paid much attention to while reading #I do like some of the smaller details of his characterization that I noticed on rereads tho #like maizuru dressing him up when they get to the surface and his dramatic “im gonna faint” face when flamela's squad is squabling with the

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demaparbat-hp · 1 year ago

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Hi Dema!! Your art is fantastic and even the lineart is awesome! Solid and confident in where it's thick and where thin. I really like how your style has characters look more realistic and they have specific consistent features. Your blog has a pleasant atmosphere, and you're skilled in weaving AUs! There's a lot of details and structure, and I'd like to ask if any of them have a full story arc? Could you do a list of all of the AUs? Is there a motif that you especially like that repeats in any of the AUs? And whenever you add comments to my stuff in the tags I literally smile, it makes me want to keep at my plan to create everything I have in mind. So I'd like to spread this joy! I hope you have a nice day! (from late-draft ^^)

Hello, Late-Draft! I wasn't expecting this ask at all but I'm so glad to have received it!

First of all—I'll try to hold myself back from giggling like a schoolgirl. I'm having a sempai noticed me moment over here and that's just embarrassing. So give me a second to compose myself, if that's alright?

Okay, I'm back.

Now, on to business.

Character design, especially when it comes to facial features and how they're unique to each person, has always been a passion of mine. I always try to have a solid design for each character. I choose which features feel like the character in question, which face feels natural to draw, and go along with it. I love drawing Katara as much as I love drawing Zuko. Meanwhile, I seem to be on a never-ending battle against Sokka's features. Woes of an artist, I suppose.

Character design is actually one of the reasons I love your work so much, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm currently experimenting a bit with a different style... Hopefully it won't be long before the artwork is done and I can share it over here. I'm so excited for everyone to see it!

Now it's time for the reason we're all here.

I have said it before and shall say it once more: AUs are my lifeblood.

I love them so much! Building them, daydreaming the scenes, thinking of the characters and how they differ from their canon versions. The arcs and the themes and the worldbuilding. Building AUs is my passion, and I have so many of them!

There are a lot of motifs and themes that tend to repeat themselves in several of my AUs, I believe.

You'll notice that most of my stories are Zuko-centric, with a heavy emphasis on grief and humanity. There's the question of what makes us human and how to move forward when the whole world seems to push you back. I put a lot of stock in metaphors and symbolism within the narrative itself. I'm especially interested in the nuance of war and how it affects people emotionally, physically, and psychologically

I also tend to reutilize some elements of the lore and/or worldbuilding! Such as the Painted Lady's backstory, or the existence of War Children within the ATLA universe.

Now, the list!

I think I'll start with my current project, if that's okay :)

For the Spirits (New Gods AU)

Zuko was a child when he met Agni. Then, the spirits started coming to him. Eyes hidden in the hallways, voices pleading for help, for recognition, for remembrance.

Zuko could see Agni. He could see the broken remains of a Great Spirit and the empty smiles of amnesiac ghosts.

And they could see him in return.

I've been working on this AU for a long time, but only now did I get the chance to start writing the fic (linked up there!). I'm extremely excited about FTS and where the story will lead us in the future, but I'll try not to spoil too much.

It's a Zuko-centric story, with a heavy emphasis on Spirits and humanity. I'd like to add a warning for depression/mental health issues.

To Hesitate (Lee & Kya AU)

As she watches Lee and Kya avoid each other's eyes from across the room, the phrase comes back to her, swift and silent:

"To hesitate is to lose."

As Song treats the victim of an unfortunate interaction with a rare poisonous flower, her day takes an unexpected turn when it becomes apparent that the old man's nephew and her assistant have history.

A vivid history.

The Lee & Kya AU is a vibe, a feeling. It's probably one of my oldest AUs out there as well as one of my dearest.

A classical Lee and Kya From The Tea Shop AU, full with wholesome fandom tropes such as: fake (but not really) dating, fake identities, Ba Sing Se shenanigans, vigilante stuff, White Lotus missions, Iroh is a great Uncle, Zuko is an awkward turtleduck, and, of course, the fluffiest fluff you'll ever see.

Other than that, Lee & Kya is probably one of the less plot-focused AUs I have. However, that doesn't mean that there aren't scenes I can't wait to write or a canon divergence or two where Zuko is concerned.

(I have another fic posted but I'll leave that one to the end. You asked for a full story arc and, oh boy, does Soundless deliver.)

Kintsugi AU

Closer to being canon-adjacent than canon-divergent, Kintsugi is yet another Zuko-centric AU (and are we not noticing a pattern over here?).

I'd love to explain it in depth, but I believe the caption of the artwork linked above does a better job at explaining than I ever will.

Kintsugi is the art of decorating your scars with pieces of Agni.

In the Fire Nation, the amount of golden marks are a sign of status. Only the Royal Family can afford to seal every single wound with Kintsugi. Such is the weight of this tradition that, among the ones with Agni's blood, it is the highest mark of dishonor to have a natural scar, for it proves you aren't worthy of the privilege.

After the Agni Kai, Ozai forbid Zuko's scar to be sealed with Kintsugi. The boy wasn't worth his title, his traditions or his pride. Zuko would be broken, but he wouldn't be beautiful. Not anymore.

(And sometimes it's easier to pretend he never was)

Kyoshi Warriors AU

One of my absolute favorites!

In this AU, Ursa took Zuko and Azula with her when she was banished, so they could start anew. With help from Iroh and the White Lotus, she managed to relocate her freshly burned eight-year-old child and her crying daughter to Kyoshi Island.

Years later, when Avatar Aang and his companions first arrive at Kyoshi Island, they're met by the Kyoshi Warriors and their leader, Noriko of pale skin and warm brown eyes.

The Gaang leave Kyoshi Island many weeks later with a new companion. And if Jian Li, with his war paint and his scar and his dual dao, gives the island that he has called home for so long one final, longing glance as they fly away on Appa, they pretend not to notice.

Hunters AU

We're starting to dwelve deep into dangerous waters!

This is a Katara Joins Zuko In His Quest To Find The Avatar AU, with a twist!

This AU was born as a writing experiment. What if we take Katara's character, and change one of her core characteristics? Katara, who looked up to the Avatar as a saviour figure, now blames him for leaving and allowing the Fire Nation to wage war on the world.

Then comes Zuko, a banished Prince with a crew full of traitors and his own agenda. Zuko wishes for nothing more than to dethrone his father and end the war. He is a White Lotus member, an honorable, driven young man, and he has a plan.

The catch? He needs to take the Avatar to his father if he wishes to regain his title and be able to rightfully take the throne. Oh, and he will deliver the Avatar to the Fire Lord—but nobody said it had to be in chains.

Halfblood AU

I watched Blue Eye Samurai a few months ago and it destroyed me. The idea of a half-blooded child dead set on getting revenge for their very existence stuck with me, and this AU was born.

Kanna made a life for herself in the Earth Kingdom after leaving the North. Katara was raised by her grandmother in a small village, being taught to hide her bending if she wanted to live peacefully in a place she was only half of. Her mother had died in childbirth. Her father, a nameless warrior from the Southern Water Tribe who had loved Kya and left her behind, didn't know of Katara's existence.

Katara took over Kanna's clinic after she passed away. Always taking care of others. Always suppressing her need to bend. Always wishing for more.

One day, he arrived. A half-child, just like her. But while she was of Water, he was a son of Agni. He was searching for the man who brought him to this world. The man who scarred him. The man whose face he couldn't recall, whose name he did not know. The man whose specter had chased his mother to her grave. The man who would die at his hand.

The answers were hidden in a small teashop deep within Ba Sing Se. Lee offered her a way out, and Katara took it.

Soundless (Uiscefhuaraithe)

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe has hands scarred by fire and great talent, though no teacher.

Zuko is a mute War Child, a herbalist and healer, and the Blue Spirit. He bears the mark of fire, and the scar of the blade that took away his voice.

The first time they met, the Blue Spirit had just saved her, tough not before her hands got burned. The second time they met, his name was Lee, and he was healing her.

They live in war and they will fight, if not for the world, then for themselves.

You asked for a full storyline, and I shall deliver!

Soundless is probably the only AU I have fully planned. Three-books, Azula redemption arc, role-reversals and all.

This AU has everything. From travelling through the Earth Kingdom together, to odd character team-ups that somehow manage to work, and a major goal/conflict to resolve.

Zuko and Katara must find their way to Omashu in an Earth Kingdom ravaged by war as they also grow to understand each other, themselves, and the world around them. They meet with new and old alliances, keep their ears open for rumors of the Avatar (They say he is an airbender, Lee. Do you truly belive that?), and do their best to always be two steps ahead of their pasts.

Meanwhile, both the Northern and Southern Water Tribes are searching for the runaway heiress, Aang must find his way alone on this new, hostile world, and Azula must face the revelation that, despite what her father has stated for the last two years (liar, he lied at her! Her! He lied he liedliedliedlied), her brother might just be alive.

I'm sorry for making this such a long answer! I just get very excited about these subjects and don't know when to stop. If you made it all the way down here: thank you again.

I hope you have a good day ❤️

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sansaorgana · 2 years ago

Text

— NEW MEMORIES

PAIRING — Erik Lehnsherr x fem!Mutant!Reader

SUMMARY — You're excited to celebrate holidays for the first time in a long time and you prepare the school for Christmas and Hanukkah but your husband's attitude differs, which leads to an argument. You accidentally reveal too soon that you're expecting, which ruins a surprise.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — As usual, Reader’s mutation is NOT specified. I checked online Hanukkah's date for 1973 and I hope it showed me right that it started December 19th, which means it would overlap with Christmas. I also tried not to specify if Reader would celebrate only Hanukkah with Erik or Christmas, too, so I hope it's not very exclusive, because I imagine that even if she is not a Christian or Jewish, she would still want to celebrate Hanukkah because of her husband. In this fic, Erik and Reader are both teachers at Xavier's School, probably after Days of Future Past happened but with less shitty ending for Erik 😂 I also wanted to write a part when the baby is born but I decided the time difference between the scenes would be too big so I'll just write another fic 😁

WARNINGS — mentions of parents' death (Reader's backstory is similar to Jean Grey's)

WORD COUNT — 2,220

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

NEW MEMORIES

December has never been your favourite time of the year. Most of the time it was a reminder that you weren’t normal, that your life wasn’t usual and that whatever all these people in Christmas commercials had was out of your reach.

But in 1973, for the first time in your life, you were actually excited. And since Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was open again, you had plenty of people to share your excitement with. Lots of students volunteered to help you with decorating the place for the upcoming Christmas and Hanukkah celebrations. That year was one of those when the two of them overlapped.

After all your classes on Friday, you worked on yet another room of the house with the help of a few students. When you finished it was almost ten pm so you told them goodnight and went straight to your bedroom. Erik was already there, reading a history book and making notes.

“What is it about?” you asked him with a smile as you began to take off your clothes. You were so tired that you decided to take a shower in the morning and now just change into pajamas.

“Napoleonic wars,” your husband answered without looking up. “I have a feeling he might have been one of us.”

“Aren’t we, like, a product of this century?” you asked and put a nightgown on. “Come on, it’s late, let’s go to sleep,” you stood behind him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I’ve only just begun,” he explained. “I need these notes for Monday.”

When you managed to convince Erik to join you at school and teach history, he was unsure about it but he promised to give it a try. Just like you promised you would leave with him to live in peace somewhere else if he wouldn’t like the life at Charles’ school. But one semester later he was already very engaged in his work. Students respected him although you could see that they were also a bit scared of him, which was understandable.

“You’ve just begun?” you laughed a little.

“I was playing chess with Charles earlier,” Erik answered with a nod and hummed after underlining a line in the book.

“Is this why you’re so tense?” you asked as you slightly squeezed his stiff shoulders. “Did you lose?”

“I’m not tense,” he tried to shake you off.

“Talk to me, Erik. It’s not gonna work if you refuse to talk to me,” you reminded him sternly and he sighed before putting the pencil down and closing the book. “We need to be open about what is bothering us, you promised me we’d make it work this time,” you added.

“Yes, I know. But I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Erik turned his head around to look at your face. You took a step back and furrowed your brows.

“What do you mean, Erik?” you asked.

He hesitated before saying anything and a million of possible scenarios started to come up to your mind.

“You don’t like it here?” You inquired. “You want us to move out?”

“No, it’s not about that… But…” Erik swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in. “I don’t like what you’re currently doing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to take your happiness out of it.”

“What am I currently doing?” you couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Christmas and Hanukkah preparations,” he explained and you blinked a few times as your brain needed to process that information.

“Wait, what?!” you raised your voice a little. You didn’t want to scold him for expressing his feelings but you just couldn’t understand his reaction. “We’re going to celebrate for the first time in such a long time, and what’s more important, we’re not gonna be alone in this. We have our friends and students here. For the first time December is a positive time of the year to me… to us,” you tried to explain your point of view nervously. Erik was only looking at you and blinking slowly, patiently waiting for you to finish. “But I don’t do it for myself. I mostly am doing it for you, Erik. I wanted you to be happy, too. I wanted you to enjoy something that had been taken away from you a long time ago.”

“It reminds me of Hanukkahs with my parents,” he finally spoke up and you pursed your lips for a moment before opening your mouth again.

“So you don’t want to ever celebrate again?” you asked to be sure.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

“Why can’t you let yourself be happy, why are you torturing yourself further? I don’t get it, I’m sorry,” you tried not to be irritated but you felt utterly disappointed. You sat on the edge of your bed and hid your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a killjoy.”

“Too late,” you murmured, fighting your tears back.

“I know that most of the students will be celebrating. I think I’ll just leave for a week somewhere. I have already discussed it with Charles and he said there are a few things I can do for him at that time,” Erik’s voice sounded casual like he was discussing business for you.

“You want to leave us during Christmas time?” you moved the hands off of your face and looked up at him angrily.

“(Y/N), please, I don’t want to fight about it…” Erik sighed. “Why can’t you just understand that I don’t want to…” he clenched his jaw and looked away. “I don’t want to create new memories like this because it would remove the ones I already have… with my mother.”

“And you think she wouldn’t want you to celebrate holidays with your new family? You don’t think she’d want you to be happy?” you stood up and looked down at him. You felt like a bitch but his explanation made you even angrier.

“I don’t know what she’d want because she’s dead!” He stood up and raised his voice.

“So, I won’t be able to celebrate ever?! Because you don’t want to create new memories?” you put your hands on your hips.

“I’m not forbidding you to celebrate.”

“I don’t want to celebrate without you, don’t you understand?!” you yelled and rolled your eyes. “And when our child is born, you won’t celebrate Hanukkah with them either?” you asked and then you closed your mouth quickly. Your anger made you reveal a few things too early.

“What child?” you could see Erik’s face becoming pale within a second. “(Y/N)?”

“It was supposed to be a Christmas surprise… But since you won’t even be here, I guess I can tell you now,” you shrugged your arms. “I’m pregnant,” you announced and turned around to avoid looking at his face. You were scared of his reaction.

You didn’t know how long it took him to finally do something. Was it a very long minute or was it ten minutes of a heavy silence between you two…?

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. Apologizing wasn’t his strong trait. You sensed him standing behind you and putting his hand on your shoulder shyly. You didn’t push him away but you didn’t lean back towards him as usual either. “For how long do you know?”

“Two weeks. It’s the second month,” you answered, your eyes focused on the wall in front of you as you tried to fight the tears back. “Are you even happy?” you dared to ask and your lower lip trembled because asking it out loud made your heart break.

You were trying to give him a normal life, to give him family and happiness, joy around Christmas time and all that. But he seemed to prefer to dwell on his past. You didn’t expect him to forget about his mother or about the pain, of course not. Your past wasn’t exactly pleasant either. But you wanted to be happy despite that, you wanted to have a family, you wanted a new start in life, another chance.

“Of course I am,” Erik answered and gently turned your body around so you would face him. However, you tried to avoid his eyes. “But I’m terrified,” he confessed.

“And you think I am not?” you looked up eventually as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. “I’m a monster, Erik. You think I’m not scared of hurting them by accident?” you asked.

When you were about twelve years old, you caused your parents’ death after having an argument with them. Your powers were out of control and you were locked in a mental institution for underage girls by people who didn’t understand that you weren’t crazy nor really dangerous. That was where you met the person who made you realize who you were and who was the only person there who wouldn’t treat you like a monster; although that was the word you could easily call him with. His name was Sebastian Shaw – but he introduced himself as Doctor John Smith. He was experimenting on you for a few years and although it had been a traumatic experience, you learnt how to control your mutation thanks to him. That was also how you met Erik – he found you not so long after you turned eighteen years old and left the institution. You started to work as a waitress and he was hunting for the man who had used your pain and suffering to perform experiments on you to deepen his knowledge about the various mutations. You decided to join Erik because your life didn’t seem to have any purpose anyway.

“You’re not a monster,” he sighed and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you. With one of his hands he held the back of your head and caressed your hair. “You were just a child and now you’re older, you can control your powers. You’re extraordinary,” he whispered the words of comfort and kissed your forehead. “I’m not scared about you hurting our baby, I would never. I trust you with my life,” he assured you and it was comforting to hear that.

“Creating new memories doesn’t wipe out the old ones,” you cried out and pressed your face deeper into his chest. “Believe me, I wish it worked this way. I wish I could forget. I begged Charles to make me forget but he refused to do it to me,” you confessed and Erik raised your chin to make you look at him again. He hadn’t known about that before.

“You haven’t told me that,” his face was full of pain and worry.

“It was when you were in jail. I begged Charles to remove all the pain, the memory of my parents, the memory of Shaw… Even you. I begged him to even remove you from my head. But he told me I wouldn’t be myself any longer. He was right and I hate that. I hate that what I am is made of pain and suffering,” you sniffled. “That’s why I want to make good memories so badly, do you understand? I want to celebrate with you like we never have before. I want to laugh and feel safe. Like I belong somewhere, surrounded with friends and students, with my husband by my side and my baby growing inside of me. Do you understand my point of view now, Erik?” you bit on your trembling lip.

“Yes, my liebling, I do,” he nodded and leaned in to kiss your forehead and then the tip of your nose, which made you giggle through the tears, until eventually he pecked your lips.

“But I don’t want to force you either,” you sighed. Now, when all your emotions were finally out and you calmed yourself down, you decided there was no point in pushing him into something that would make him feel uncomfortable. “If you don’t want to celebrate, it’s alright. We both have our right to deal with whatever that has happened to us in our own ways. I’ll still have fun with all the rest, don’t worry about me,” you assured him.

“No, you were right. About me choosing to torture myself instead of allowing myself to enjoy my life,” Erik caressed your cheek and you cracked a smile. “And I can’t miss my child’s first Hanukkah either.”

“I want them to have a happy childhood,” you told him. “Like we never had.”

“I know. I do, too,” Erik placed his hand on your belly and caressed it gently, like it was made of glass. “I will protect them from everything, I promise. No human will hurt our baby.”

You smiled at him and cupped his face before leaning in to give him a proper kiss this time.

But you didn’t tell him that what you feared more than humans hurting your child was actually the child turning out to be perfectly normal. You were afraid that a man so prejudiced towards humans as your husband wouldn’t love his child fully if they weren’t a mutant. You couldn’t tell him that, though. You didn’t want to fight with him anymore that night. Instead, you just kissed him. After all, you’d still have a few years before you’d find out if the baby was a mutant or not.

MASTERLIST

#erik lehnsherr x reader #lilysfiction #magneto x reader

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