cercusclown

[mooncleaver]

I WANT HIM BACK TOO gege there's 3 chaps left please 😭 and i am super happy that you enjoyed reading!! thanks for reblogging cutie 😘

Love Is The Reason

ღ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, familial fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

ღ warnings: MAJOR JJK268 SPOILERS. pls don't read if you don't wanna know!! slightly cannon divergent

What the hell.

His ears didn't stop ringing as he brought his body up from its position on the surprisingly soft surface, feeling every ache known to man throbbing all over. Megumi felt the cosmic numbness ebbing away like a flash, and suddenly, he could discern the warm cotton wrapped around his upper body along with the linen sheets that lay beneath him. The three—out of many—scars on his face pulled his skin tautly, so close to his eyes where that devil's face wore his for however long this limbo period was. It hurt to open his eyes. Well, it hurt to do anything, but he's thankful that he can see the world through his own view.

Megumi's ears perk up to the sound of poorly attempted hushed arguments. The sound was so familiar that for once in his life, he felt relieved to hear it. To feel that irritation ticking in his chest, the mindless crease that's fully starting to make itself known on his forehead, and that growing scowl—he could truly cry at the return of bodily autonomy.

Nobara was trying to fit herself inside a present-shaped cardboard box while Yuji stood next to the thing, pushing down the lid on top of her head, which ruffled the strands like crazy. Of course, the girl would not stand for this butchering of her beauty. She spent a lot of time trying to look presentable, not that this pink-haired fool would understand.

Megumi is hit with a deep sense of dejavu as he sits up against the headboard, looking back at the memory of Gojo doing the same exact surprise tactic to announce that Yuji was, in fact, not dead after his literal heart got ripped out of his chest. The boy can feel a smile forming on his lips, and he makes no move to try and stop it.

"What are you two doing?"

He sees Yuji and Nobara freeze in their spots, both eyes widening comically. A second passes before the two let go of whatever it was they were contending about, rushing forward to stick their faces into Megumi's. The former vessel looks—well, he looks like he's had better days. He's thankfully clean of all the blood oozing out of his skin when he fought Sukuna for the last time, his usual uniform with the red hoodie looking incredibly pristine, absent of any rips or blood. Still, some are sticking onto his face, notably a darker shade cutting down across his eyebrows as the dried blood clings onto his wounds. Nobara looks happier. God, he thought she died. He was ready to mourn her with all the losses he'd suffered, but for once, Megumi was glad to hear her voice. He welcomes it. She's wearing a black eyepatch on top of the eye that she lost fighting Mahito, and her uniform is equally as clean as Yuji's—Megumi can tell that she's relieved by that fact.

Finally, they're back together again. The trio of first years with lost dreams who've gone through horrible, terrible things now have found hope again—hope that never died within each other.

"Fushiguro!!" The two yell in unison, going in to hug him despite knowing he didn't usually like that kind of thing. But to their honest surprise, Megumi returned the gesture, fully and truly, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. Yuuji and Nobara didn't hesitate to tighten their arms around the spiky-haired boy, be damned the near-death exhaustion clinging to their bones. They may be battered and bruised, but they survived.

After a quiet moment, the momentum was back again as Nobara looked at the two boys with a disgruntled expression, her exaggerated self on display at the lack of reaction to her return. "You know, the class's Madonna, who everyone thought was dead, by the way, turned out to be alive?! You two should be either wetting yourself or crying with joy!"

Megumi didn't even bat an eye, unlike Yuji, who was scrambling out of his mind, replying to her in his usual stoic and flat voice. "I see. My bad."

"So, the bastard is dead then." The Fushiguro didn't phrase that like a question, more so stating a fact. The fact that he was here in his own body, alive and breathing, undoubtedly meant that the curse was dead. It was still surreal to utter, knowing that this was the one thing they'd all been fighting for since forever. Maybe now, everyone who was gone didn't die in vain.

Nobara sounded like she was still in disbelief, shaking her head slightly while she grinned and exclaimed, "Ha! Yeah! Itadori beasted that guy like it was a piece of cake!"

"Eh.. well, it was pretty tough, I'm not gonna lie. I cried a little when resonance was hit." Yuji himself could only scratch the back of his neck at the rare praise, his eyes crinkling into thin lines as he admitted his own emotions. It was kind of daunting to be the one who killed Sukuna with the fact that he used to be the curse's vessel. But out of everything, making that final blow was something he didn't once hesitate on. Yuji was going to finish all this madness. It all started with him and ended with him—the way it should be.

Megumi didn't sound too surprised at the boy's admission, only giving him a look in response. "I know. I saw everything happening inside Sukuna."

"Ugh... don't even remind me now. Well, at least you two have the shared experience of being a vessel now." Well, no matter how sour the fact was, it was true.

Breaking his thoughts, Yuji suddenly lit up as he shifted through his pants pockets, haphazardly pulling out the crumpled pieces of paper in his hand. "Oh, wait, guys. I have something for you two. It's from Gojo-sensei. Gojo-san, too, I think."

The pink-haired boy grew incredibly sullen at the mention of both his teachers. He'd miss calling out to the two Gojo's, mixing the couple up despite your previous urgings to the students of simply calling you by your first name. Of course, your husband would not absolutely have that, sneakily going behind your back and basically forcing his students to call you Gojo, too. If he couldn't get the second years to follow, he'd make his own kids do it. The man would not pass on the chance of hearing people call you by your shared last name.

"A letter.." Megumi looked shocked at the fact. His sensei (and self-proclaimed dad who stepped up) never did this kind of thing—seriously, that is.

Growing up with Gojo and his wife, Megumi knew the white-haired sorcerers never strayed away from being lighthearted and childlike. Despite witnessing the lanky heir change from the bratty 18-year-old who approached him as a child in the streets into the mature, married man he was the last time, it just wasn't in his nature to be doing some sentimental things like this. That was more like something you'd do. From the daily lunch notes, deep-meaning gifts (that he still kept to this day), and the affectionate texts you'd always send, he would wager that you might've been the one to drag your husband to write the letters. But, knowing that Gojo probably had a feeling that he wouldn't make it out of the fight, it's not impossible that this truly came from him.

Nobara chuckled at his tone of voice, silently agreeing with his disbelief. Gojo was definitely not the type to do this.. it unsettled her.

"I feel you.. this is totally not like him. It's slightly gross to even imagine him writing letters.."

Though, after reading, she crushed the piece of paper in her hand, pursing her lips. Yuji noticed this, facing her to ask what it said. With slight hesitation, Nobara revealed that it contained information about her mother's whereabouts. To be honest, she wasn't sure how to feel. Some part of her still longed to feel her love.

"Oh, did you even want to know in the first place?"

She shook her head as she looked down, leaving no room for the topic to be continued. "Not at all."

Suddenly, they heard the very, very rare sound of Megumi's laughter ringing out from the bed. Gojo would've bawled knowing he made his son laugh. It took a moment for them to snap out of the shock, seeing the fresh face of their friend's smile. He looked like a brand new person—content, young and carefree. It was refreshing.

Megumi hasn't felt this happy in a long while. He expected that the message wouldn't be some deep, meaningful thing, but out of everything, it was a joke about how he killed his biological dad. He wasn't sad, surprisingly. Megumi never really knew the man that left him and his sister to fend for themselves, and the memories he had of him weren't great. At least he found some closure. The boy shook his head, reading the familiar and large handwriting of his father figure. You'd think that it'd be messy, but as the former heir of the Gojo clan, Satoru was a trained guy in the art of handwriting. He wouldn't be caught dead with scribbles.

Unfortunately your father isn't around anymore!! Cuz I killed him!! Sowwy!! :P

Short, simple, and kind of foolish.

He bit back a grin. Even in death, the man couldn't take anything seriously.

Beneath it was a softer and more serious note. From you, of course. Megumi did not doubt that you wrote this to make up for your husband's short message, writing a heartfelt one that he could sense even before reading. The two of you must've known that this was not a fight you would come out of. And as much as that hurt him, Megumi was glad that he was in your last thoughts. It meant a lot to know that you and Gojo believed he, Nobara, and Yuji would live through everything.

Firstly, don't take this idiot too seriously. If you're reading this megs, we're probably gone, but hey, you're okay! Live your life fully okay? Don't forget that you're still a kid in the end. We're always looking out for you, sweetheart. ♡

There was a chibi doodle in the bottom and a sweet greeting that said,

— Love you beyond infinity, mom & dad

Megumi could tell that this was Gojo's handwriting. It was meant as a joke (the boy didn't call Satoru dad very often, despite calling you mom. It was kinda cringe.) but he accepted that sincerely. You two were his parents, biological or not. He loves you so much.

And he'd promise that for you. For Satoru, too, to be honest. To live life fully. Ever since he knew what living meant, he never intended to live a proper life. The absence of his biological father and the death of his mother left an untreated wound in his heart, altering his mind in a way that left him isolated—a recluse from the world, almost. The only thing that used to keep him going was his sister, Tsumiki. Now she is really gone. But then, everything shifted when he first saw Gojo Satoru.

It was a big change to have people to look up to. To have a mother. Megumi called you mom way before he even considered Satoru as his father figure, and it was one of the most precious things in life. You never took that for granted, always spoiling him and treating him like he came from your own womb. You knew you'd never take the place of his biological mother, but you wanted to be someone the boy could rely on in such a cruel world. It was a bit strange when Satoru first brought up the idea of raising the Fushiguro boy. You were both still 18, barely even adults with so much pressure and responsibilities. But you knew, from the moment you saw this poor boy getting dragged home by your boyfriend, that you'd love him like no other.

You and Satoru gave him and Tsumiki a home. An unlikely one, but a home nonetheless. You gave him a love like no other, an unconditional, wholehearted, and absolute kind of love, even when the two of you were struggling. It was a type that couldn't be described by words and only felt. That, along with the friendship and true family he found within Nobara and Yuji, made him realize that even if he didn't live his life for himself, there were others in the world. Other people, whether that'd be a mother, a father, a sister, or a brother could give everything meaning. A reason to keep going.

At first, he only lived for Tsumiki. To use everything he had to save her. But then he found himself living for you, for Satoru, for Nobara and Yuji. Once more, he would try again. This wasn't a chance he'd take for granted.

Reading the note made Megumi feel a kind of warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. The kind that he last felt when you hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead before everything in Shibuya happened. That was probably the last time he saw you happy and alive. The world was dull when you died. A victim of that son of a bitch curse Mahito. That was a loss like no other, so incredibly painful and numbing.

At least you died in an honorable way.

After that, he didn't know how to function. Tsumiki, Nobara, and now you. The boy felt half of his soul chip away.

Your husband was even worse. Inconsolable. Watching his wife die in front of his eyes before getting sealed the second after. When the man came out of the prison realm, anyone could tell he wasn't the same. There was no chance the old Gojo would ever return. And sure, he was still lighthearted, but Megumi could tell there was a weight in his gait—the heavy burden of the loss of his darling wife dragging down every word that came out of his mouth. He saw the sadness, longing, anger, and pure vengeance in his eyes. It never did go away. Not even when Sukuna butchered the man in half. At least now, the two of you were together in the afterlife. Megumi truly hoped that. He didn't believe much in that kind of stuff, but for his mother and his father, he prayed for a final peace to be granted.

That hope—along with the one amongst the living pushed Megumi to go on. To not just survive but to really live. Even beyond that, there were others too. His cousin, Maki, who was thankfully alive, and even Toge and Panda.

This was love. That unanswered purpose of life. It's to give love and find love in others. Love is why people do crazy things: to sacrifice the world, to sacrifice themselves. That's why he kept living even when his own dad disappeared or why he kept fighting to keep his sister alive. Love is why, despite the grief, Satoru still fought for you, for your memory, and for your efforts. Love is the reason he's alive.

And if anything, Megumi learned that when you have people in your life, you'd do anything to keep them in it. That's what you and Satoru taught him. Waking up in his own body again and greeted by the sight of his best friends—that was one of the biggest blessings he has ever received.

For his family, he would do anything.

i'm fucking crying. like actually. 3 chapters to go until this manga ends and i still can't fathom everything happening bruv

btw, this is what i imagine the letter would look like haha. half cannonical cuz it's the panel translation!! excuse my handwriting um

also sorry this isn't really proofread lol, i really wanted to post!!

dividers @cafekitsune @i-mmaculatus

[mooncleaver]

Love Is The Reason

ღ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, familial fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

ღ warnings: MAJOR JJK268 SPOILERS. pls don't read if you don't wanna know!! slightly cannon divergent

What the hell.

His ears didn't stop ringing as he brought his body up from its position on the surprisingly soft surface, feeling every ache known to man throbbing all over. Megumi felt the cosmic numbness ebbing away like a flash, and suddenly, he could discern the warm cotton wrapped around his upper body along with the linen sheets that lay beneath him. The three—out of many—scars on his face pulled his skin tautly, so close to his eyes where that devil's face wore his for however long this limbo period was. It hurt to open his eyes. Well, it hurt to do anything, but he's thankful that he can see the world through his own view.

Megumi's ears perk up to the sound of poorly attempted hushed arguments. The sound was so familiar that for once in his life, he felt relieved to hear it. To feel that irritation ticking in his chest, the mindless crease that's fully starting to make itself known on his forehead, and that growing scowl—he could truly cry at the return of bodily autonomy.

Nobara was trying to fit herself inside a present-shaped cardboard box while Yuji stood next to the thing, pushing down the lid on top of her head, which ruffled the strands like crazy. Of course, the girl would not stand for this butchering of her beauty. She spent a lot of time trying to look presentable, not that this pink-haired fool would understand.

Megumi is hit with a deep sense of dejavu as he sits up against the headboard, looking back at the memory of Gojo doing the same exact surprise tactic to announce that Yuji was, in fact, not dead after his literal heart got ripped out of his chest. The boy can feel a smile forming on his lips, and he makes no move to try and stop it.

"What are you two doing?"

He sees Yuji and Nobara freeze in their spots, both eyes widening comically. A second passes before the two let go of whatever it was they were contending about, rushing forward to stick their faces into Megumi's. The former vessel looks—well, he looks like he's had better days. He's thankfully clean of all the blood oozing out of his skin when he fought Sukuna for the last time, his usual uniform with the red hoodie looking incredibly pristine, absent of any rips or blood. Still, some are sticking onto his face, notably a darker shade cutting down across his eyebrows as the dried blood clings onto his wounds. Nobara looks happier. God, he thought she died. He was ready to mourn her with all the losses he'd suffered, but for once, Megumi was glad to hear her voice. He welcomes it. She's wearing a black eyepatch on top of the eye that she lost fighting Mahito, and her uniform is equally as clean as Yuji's—Megumi can tell that she's relieved by that fact.

Finally, they're back together again. The trio of first years with lost dreams who've gone through horrible, terrible things now have found hope again—hope that never died within each other.

"Fushiguro!!" The two yell in unison, going in to hug him despite knowing he didn't usually like that kind of thing. But to their honest surprise, Megumi returned the gesture, fully and truly, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. Yuuji and Nobara didn't hesitate to tighten their arms around the spiky-haired boy, be damned the near-death exhaustion clinging to their bones. They may be battered and bruised, but they survived.

After a quiet moment, the momentum was back again as Nobara looked at the two boys with a disgruntled expression, her exaggerated self on display at the lack of reaction to her return. "You know, the class's Madonna, who everyone thought was dead, by the way, turned out to be alive?! You two should be either wetting yourself or crying with joy!"

Megumi didn't even bat an eye, unlike Yuji, who was scrambling out of his mind, replying to her in his usual stoic and flat voice. "I see. My bad."

"So, the bastard is dead then." The Fushiguro didn't phrase that like a question, more so stating a fact. The fact that he was here in his own body, alive and breathing, undoubtedly meant that the curse was dead. It was still surreal to utter, knowing that this was the one thing they'd all been fighting for since forever. Maybe now, everyone who was gone didn't die in vain.

Nobara sounded like she was still in disbelief, shaking her head slightly while she grinned and exclaimed, "Ha! Yeah! Itadori beasted that guy like it was a piece of cake!"

"Eh.. well, it was pretty tough, I'm not gonna lie. I cried a little when resonance was hit." Yuji himself could only scratch the back of his neck at the rare praise, his eyes crinkling into thin lines as he admitted his own emotions. It was kind of daunting to be the one who killed Sukuna with the fact that he used to be the curse's vessel. But out of everything, making that final blow was something he didn't once hesitate on. Yuji was going to finish all this madness. It all started with him and ended with him—the way it should be.

Megumi didn't sound too surprised at the boy's admission, only giving him a look in response. "I know. I saw everything happening inside Sukuna."

"Ugh... don't even remind me now. Well, at least you two have the shared experience of being a vessel now." Well, no matter how sour the fact was, it was true.

Breaking his thoughts, Yuji suddenly lit up as he shifted through his pants pockets, haphazardly pulling out the crumpled pieces of paper in his hand. "Oh, wait, guys. I have something for you two. It's from Gojo-sensei. Gojo-san, too, I think."

The pink-haired boy grew incredibly sullen at the mention of both his teachers. He'd miss calling out to the two Gojo's, mixing the couple up despite your previous urgings to the students of simply calling you by your first name. Of course, your husband would not absolutely have that, sneakily going behind your back and basically forcing his students to call you Gojo, too. If he couldn't get the second years to follow, he'd make his own kids do it. The man would not pass on the chance of hearing people call you by your shared last name.

"A letter.." Megumi looked shocked at the fact. His sensei (and self-proclaimed dad who stepped up) never did this kind of thing—seriously, that is.

Growing up with Gojo and his wife, Megumi knew the white-haired sorcerers never strayed away from being lighthearted and childlike. Despite witnessing the lanky heir change from the bratty 18-year-old who approached him as a child in the streets into the mature, married man he was the last time, it just wasn't in his nature to be doing some sentimental things like this. That was more like something you'd do. From the daily lunch notes, deep-meaning gifts (that he still kept to this day), and the affectionate texts you'd always send, he would wager that you might've been the one to drag your husband to write the letters. But, knowing that Gojo probably had a feeling that he wouldn't make it out of the fight, it's not impossible that this truly came from him.

Nobara chuckled at his tone of voice, silently agreeing with his disbelief. Gojo was definitely not the type to do this.. it unsettled her.

"I feel you.. this is totally not like him. It's slightly gross to even imagine him writing letters.."

Though, after reading, she crushed the piece of paper in her hand, pursing her lips. Yuji noticed this, facing her to ask what it said. With slight hesitation, Nobara revealed that it contained information about her mother's whereabouts. To be honest, she wasn't sure how to feel. Some part of her still longed to feel her love.

"Oh, did you even want to know in the first place?"

She shook her head as she looked down, leaving no room for the topic to be continued. "Not at all."

Suddenly, they heard the very, very rare sound of Megumi's laughter ringing out from the bed. Gojo would've bawled knowing he made his son laugh. It took a moment for them to snap out of the shock, seeing the fresh face of their friend's smile. He looked like a brand new person—content, young and carefree. It was refreshing.

Megumi hasn't felt this happy in a long while. He expected that the message wouldn't be some deep, meaningful thing, but out of everything, it was a joke about how he killed his biological dad. He wasn't sad, surprisingly. Megumi never really knew the man that left him and his sister to fend for themselves, and the memories he had of him weren't great. At least he found some closure. The boy shook his head, reading the familiar and large handwriting of his father figure. You'd think that it'd be messy, but as the former heir of the Gojo clan, Satoru was a trained guy in the art of handwriting. He wouldn't be caught dead with scribbles.

Unfortunately your father isn't around anymore!! Cuz I killed him!! Sowwy!! :P

Short, simple, and kind of foolish.

He bit back a grin. Even in death, the man couldn't take anything seriously.

Beneath it was a softer and more serious note. From you, of course. Megumi did not doubt that you wrote this to make up for your husband's short message, writing a heartfelt one that he could sense even before reading. The two of you must've known that this was not a fight you would come out of. And as much as that hurt him, Megumi was glad that he was in your last thoughts. It meant a lot to know that you and Gojo believed he, Nobara, and Yuji would live through everything.

Firstly, don't take this idiot too seriously. If you're reading this megs, we're probably gone, but hey, you're okay! Live your life fully okay? Don't forget that you're still a kid in the end. We're always looking out for you, sweetheart. ♡

There was a chibi doodle in the bottom and a sweet greeting that said,

— Love you beyond infinity, mom & dad

Megumi could tell that this was Gojo's handwriting. It was meant as a joke (the boy didn't call Satoru dad very often, despite calling you mom. It was kinda cringe.) but he accepted that sincerely. You two were his parents, biological or not. He loves you so much.

And he'd promise that for you. For Satoru, too, to be honest. To live life fully. Ever since he knew what living meant, he never intended to live a proper life. The absence of his biological father and the death of his mother left an untreated wound in his heart, altering his mind in a way that left him isolated—a recluse from the world, almost. The only thing that used to keep him going was his sister, Tsumiki. Now she is really gone. But then, everything shifted when he first saw Gojo Satoru.

It was a big change to have people to look up to. To have a mother. Megumi called you mom way before he even considered Satoru as his father figure, and it was one of the most precious things in life. You never took that for granted, always spoiling him and treating him like he came from your own womb. You knew you'd never take the place of his biological mother, but you wanted to be someone the boy could rely on in such a cruel world. It was a bit strange when Satoru first brought up the idea of raising the Fushiguro boy. You were both still 18, barely even adults with so much pressure and responsibilities. But you knew, from the moment you saw this poor boy getting dragged home by your boyfriend, that you'd love him like no other.

You and Satoru gave him and Tsumiki a home. An unlikely one, but a home nonetheless. You gave him a love like no other, an unconditional, wholehearted, and absolute kind of love, even when the two of you were struggling. It was a type that couldn't be described by words and only felt. That, along with the friendship and true family he found within Nobara and Yuji, made him realize that even if he didn't live his life for himself, there were others in the world. Other people, whether that'd be a mother, a father, a sister, or a brother could give everything meaning. A reason to keep going.

At first, he only lived for Tsumiki. To use everything he had to save her. But then he found himself living for you, for Satoru, for Nobara and Yuji. Once more, he would try again. This wasn't a chance he'd take for granted.

Reading the note made Megumi feel a kind of warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. The kind that he last felt when you hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead before everything in Shibuya happened. That was probably the last time he saw you happy and alive. The world was dull when you died. A victim of that son of a bitch curse Mahito. That was a loss like no other, so incredibly painful and numbing.

At least you died in an honorable way.

After that, he didn't know how to function. Tsumiki, Nobara, and now you. The boy felt half of his soul chip away.

Your husband was even worse. Inconsolable. Watching his wife die in front of his eyes before getting sealed the second after. When the man came out of the prison realm, anyone could tell he wasn't the same. There was no chance the old Gojo would ever return. And sure, he was still lighthearted, but Megumi could tell there was a weight in his gait—the heavy burden of the loss of his darling wife dragging down every word that came out of his mouth. He saw the sadness, longing, anger, and pure vengeance in his eyes. It never did go away. Not even when Sukuna butchered the man in half. At least now, the two of you were together in the afterlife. Megumi truly hoped that. He didn't believe much in that kind of stuff, but for his mother and his father, he prayed for a final peace to be granted.

That hope—along with the one amongst the living pushed Megumi to go on. To not just survive but to really live. Even beyond that, there were others too. His cousin, Maki, who was thankfully alive, and even Toge and Panda.

This was love. That unanswered purpose of life. It's to give love and find love in others. Love is why people do crazy things: to sacrifice the world, to sacrifice themselves. That's why he kept living even when his own dad disappeared or why he kept fighting to keep his sister alive. Love is why, despite the grief, Satoru still fought for you, for your memory, and for your efforts. Love is the reason he's alive.

And if anything, Megumi learned that when you have people in your life, you'd do anything to keep them in it. That's what you and Satoru taught him. Waking up in his own body again and greeted by the sight of his best friends—that was one of the biggest blessings he has ever received.

For his family, he would do anything.

i'm fucking crying. like actually. 3 chapters to go until this manga ends and i still can't fathom everything happening bruv

btw, this is what i imagine the letter would look like haha. half cannonical cuz it's the panel translation!! excuse my handwriting um

also sorry this isn't really proofread lol, i really wanted to post!!

dividers @cafekitsune @i-mmaculatus

[mooncleaver]

IM DEAD IM DEAAAAAD WTH

[mooncleaver]

Love Is The Reason

ღ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, familial fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

ღ warnings: MAJOR JJK268 SPOILERS. pls don't read if you don't wanna know!! slightly cannon divergent

What the hell.

His ears didn't stop ringing as he brought his body up from its position on the surprisingly soft surface, feeling every ache known to man throbbing all over. Megumi felt the cosmic numbness ebbing away like a flash, and suddenly, he could discern the warm cotton wrapped around his upper body along with the linen sheets that lay beneath him. The three—out of many—scars on his face pulled his skin tautly, so close to his eyes where that devil's face wore his for however long this limbo period was. It hurt to open his eyes. Well, it hurt to do anything, but he's thankful that he can see the world through his own view.

Megumi's ears perk up to the sound of poorly attempted hushed arguments. The sound was so familiar that for once in his life, he felt relieved to hear it. To feel that irritation ticking in his chest, the mindless crease that's fully starting to make itself known on his forehead, and that growing scowl—he could truly cry at the return of bodily autonomy.

Nobara was trying to fit herself inside a present-shaped cardboard box while Yuji stood next to the thing, pushing down the lid on top of her head, which ruffled the strands like crazy. Of course, the girl would not stand for this butchering of her beauty. She spent a lot of time trying to look presentable, not that this pink-haired fool would understand.

Megumi is hit with a deep sense of dejavu as he sits up against the headboard, looking back at the memory of Gojo doing the same exact surprise tactic to announce that Yuji was, in fact, not dead after his literal heart got ripped out of his chest. The boy can feel a smile forming on his lips, and he makes no move to try and stop it.

"What are you two doing?"

He sees Yuji and Nobara freeze in their spots, both eyes widening comically. A second passes before the two let go of whatever it was they were contending about, rushing forward to stick their faces into Megumi's. The former vessel looks—well, he looks like he's had better days. He's thankfully clean of all the blood oozing out of his skin when he fought Sukuna for the last time, his usual uniform with the red hoodie looking incredibly pristine, absent of any rips or blood. Still, some are sticking onto his face, notably a darker shade cutting down across his eyebrows as the dried blood clings onto his wounds. Nobara looks happier. God, he thought she died. He was ready to mourn her with all the losses he'd suffered, but for once, Megumi was glad to hear her voice. He welcomes it. She's wearing a black eyepatch on top of the eye that she lost fighting Mahito, and her uniform is equally as clean as Yuji's—Megumi can tell that she's relieved by that fact.

Finally, they're back together again. The trio of first years with lost dreams who've gone through horrible, terrible things now have found hope again—hope that never died within each other.

"Fushiguro!!" The two yell in unison, going in to hug him despite knowing he didn't usually like that kind of thing. But to their honest surprise, Megumi returned the gesture, fully and truly, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. Yuuji and Nobara didn't hesitate to tighten their arms around the spiky-haired boy, be damned the near-death exhaustion clinging to their bones. They may be battered and bruised, but they survived.

After a quiet moment, the momentum was back again as Nobara looked at the two boys with a disgruntled expression, her exaggerated self on display at the lack of reaction to her return. "You know, the class's Madonna, who everyone thought was dead, by the way, turned out to be alive?! You two should be either wetting yourself or crying with joy!"

Megumi didn't even bat an eye, unlike Yuji, who was scrambling out of his mind, replying to her in his usual stoic and flat voice. "I see. My bad."

"So, the bastard is dead then." The Fushiguro didn't phrase that like a question, more so stating a fact. The fact that he was here in his own body, alive and breathing, undoubtedly meant that the curse was dead. It was still surreal to utter, knowing that this was the one thing they'd all been fighting for since forever. Maybe now, everyone who was gone didn't die in vain.

Nobara sounded like she was still in disbelief, shaking her head slightly while she grinned and exclaimed, "Ha! Yeah! Itadori beasted that guy like it was a piece of cake!"

"Eh.. well, it was pretty tough, I'm not gonna lie. I cried a little when resonance was hit." Yuji himself could only scratch the back of his neck at the rare praise, his eyes crinkling into thin lines as he admitted his own emotions. It was kind of daunting to be the one who killed Sukuna with the fact that he used to be the curse's vessel. But out of everything, making that final blow was something he didn't once hesitate on. Yuji was going to finish all this madness. It all started with him and ended with him—the way it should be.

Megumi didn't sound too surprised at the boy's admission, only giving him a look in response. "I know. I saw everything happening inside Sukuna."

"Ugh... don't even remind me. Well, at least you two have the shared experience of being a vessel now." Well, no matter how sour the fact was, it was true.

Breaking his thoughts, Yuji suddenly lit up as he shifted through his pants pockets, haphazardly pulling out the crumpled pieces of paper in his hand. "Oh, wait, guys. I have something for you two. It's from Gojo-sensei. Gojo-san, too, I think."

The pink-haired boy grew incredibly sullen at the mention of both his teachers. He'd miss calling out to the two Gojo's, mixing the couple up despite your previous urgings to the students of simply calling you by your first name. Of course, your husband would not absolutely have that, sneakily going behind your back and basically forcing his students to call you Gojo, too. If he couldn't get the second years to follow, he'd make his own kids do it. The man would not pass on the chance of hearing people call you by your shared last name.

"A letter.." Megumi looked shocked at the fact. His sensei (and self-proclaimed dad who stepped up) never did this kind of thing—seriously, that is.

Growing up with Gojo and his wife, Megumi knew the white-haired sorcerer never strayed away from being lighthearted and childlike. Despite witnessing the lanky heir change from the bratty 18-year-old who approached him as a child in the streets into the mature, married man he was the last time, it just wasn't in his nature to be doing some sentimental things like this. That was more like something you'd do. From the daily lunch notes, deep-meaning gifts (that he still kept to this day), and the affectionate texts you'd always send, he would wager that you might've been the one to drag your husband to write the letters. But, knowing that Gojo probably had a feeling that he wouldn't make it out of the fight, it's not impossible that this truly came from him.

Nobara chuckled at his tone of voice, silently agreeing with his disbelief. Gojo was definitely not the type to do this.. it unsettled her.

"I feel you.. this is totally not like him. It's slightly gross to even imagine him writing letters.."

Though, after reading, she crushed the piece of paper in her hand, pursing her lips. Yuji noticed this, facing her to ask what it said. With slight hesitation, Nobara revealed that it contained information about her mother's whereabouts. To be honest, she wasn't sure how to feel. Some part of her still longed to feel her love.

"Oh, did you even want to know in the first place?"

She shook her head as she looked down, leaving no room for the topic to be continued. "Not at all."

Suddenly, they heard the very, very rare sound of Megumi's laughter ringing out from the bed. Gojo would've bawled knowing he made his son laugh. It took a moment for them to snap out of the shock, seeing the fresh face of their friend's smile. He looked like a brand new person—content, young and carefree. It was refreshing.

Megumi hasn't felt this happy in a long while. He expected that the message wouldn't be some deep, meaningful thing, but out of everything, it was a joke about how he killed his biological dad. He wasn't sad, surprisingly. Megumi never really knew the man that left him and his sister to fend for themselves, and the memories he had of him weren't great. At least he found some closure. The boy shook his head, reading the familiar and large handwriting of his father figure. You'd think that it'd be messy, but as the former heir of the Gojo clan, Satoru was a trained guy in the art of handwriting. He wouldn't be caught dead with scribbles.

Unfortunately your father isn't around anymore!! Cuz I killed him!! Sowwy!! :P

Short, simple, and kind of foolish.

He bit back a grin. Even in death, the man couldn't take anything seriously.

Beneath it was a softer and more serious note. From you, of course. Megumi did not doubt that you wrote this to make up for your husband's short message, writing a heartfelt one that he could sense even before reading. The two of you must've known that this was not a fight you would come out of. And as much as that hurt him, Megumi was glad that he was in your last thoughts. It meant a lot to know that you and Gojo believed he, Nobara, and Yuji would live through everything.

Firstly, don't take this idiot too seriously. If you're reading this megs, we're probably gone, but hey, you're okay! Live your life fully okay? Don't forget that you're still a kid in the end. We're always looking out for you, sweetheart. ♡

There was a chibi doodle in the bottom and a sweet greeting that said,

— Love you beyond infinity, mom & dad

Megumi could tell that this was Gojo's handwriting. It was meant as a joke (the boy didn't call Satoru dad very often, despite calling you mom. It was kinda cringe.) but he accepted that sincerely. You two were his parents, biological or not. He loves you so much.

And he'd promise that for you. For Satoru, too, to be honest. To live life fully. Ever since he knew what living meant, he never intended to live a proper life. The absence of his biological father and the death of his mother left an untreated wound in his heart, altering his mind in a way that left him isolated—a recluse from the world, almost. The only thing that used to keep him going was his sister, Tsumiki. Now she is really gone. But then, everything shifted when he first saw Gojo Satoru.

It was a big change to have people to look up to. To have a mother. Megumi called you mom way before he even considered Satoru as his father figure, and it was one of the most precious things in life. You never took that for granted, always spoiling him and treating him like he came from your own womb. You knew you'd never take the place of his biological mother, but you wanted to be someone the boy could rely on in such a cruel world. It was a bit strange when Satoru first brought up the idea of raising the Fushiguro boy. You were both still 18, barely even adults with so much pressure and responsibilities. But you knew, from the moment you saw this poor boy getting dragged home by your boyfriend, that you'd love him like no other.

You and Satoru gave him and Tsumiki a home. An unlikely one, but a home nonetheless. You gave him a love like no other, an unconditional, wholehearted, and absolute kind of love, even when the two of you were struggling. It was a type that couldn't be described by words and only felt. That, along with the friendship and true family he found within Nobara and Yuji, made him realize that even if he didn't live his life for himself, there were others in the world. Other people, whether that'd be a mother, a father, a sister, or a brother could give everything meaning. A reason to keep going.

At first, he only lived for Tsumiki. To use everything he had to save her. But then he found himself living for you, for Satoru, for Nobara and Yuji. Once more, he would try again. This wasn't a chance he'd take for granted.

Reading the note made Megumi feel a kind of warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. The kind that he last felt when you hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead before everything in Shibuya happened. That was probably the last time he saw you happy and alive. The world was dull when you died. A victim of that son of a bitch curse Mahito. That was a loss like no other, so incredibly painful and numbing.

At least you died in an honorable way.

After that, he didn't know how to function. Tsumiki, Nobara, and now you. The boy felt half of his soul chip away.

Your husband was even worse. Inconsolable. Watching his wife die in front of his eyes before getting sealed the second after. When the man came out of the prison realm, anyone could tell he wasn't the same. There was no chance the old Gojo would ever return. And sure, he was still lighthearted, but Megumi could tell there was a weight in his gait—the heavy burden of the loss of his darling wife dragging down every word that came out of his mouth. He saw the sadness, longing, anger, and pure vengeance in his eyes. It never did go away. Not even when Sukuna butchered the man in half. At least now, the two of you were together in the afterlife. Megumi truly hoped that. He didn't believe much in that kind of stuff, but for his mother and his father, he prayed for a final peace to be granted.

That hope—along with the one amongst the living pushed Megumi to go on. To not just survive but to really live. Even beyond that, there were others too. His cousin, Maki, who was thankfully alive, and even Toge and Panda.

This was love. That unanswered purpose of life. It's to give love and find love in others. Love is why people do crazy things: to sacrifice the world, to sacrifice themselves. That's why he kept living even when his own dad disappeared or why he kept fighting to keep his sister alive. Love is why, despite the grief, Satoru still fought for you, for your memory, and for your efforts. Love is the reason he's alive.

And if anything, Megumi learned that when you have people in your life, you'd do anything to keep them in it. That's what you and Satoru taught him. Waking up in his own body again and greeted by the sight of his best friends—that was one of the biggest blessings he has ever received.

For his family, he would do anything.

i'm fucking crying. like actually. 3 chapters to go until this manga ends and i still can't fathom everything happening bruv

btw, this is what i imagine the letter would look like haha. half cannonical cuz it's the panel translation!! excuse my handwriting um

also sorry this isn't really proofread lol, i really wanted to post!!

dividers @cafekitsune @i-mmaculatus

[mooncleaver]

aw being on the taglist would be awesome! really can't wait for the next chapter ❤️

You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 7

Full Request Part

AN: I am so so sorry that this took me so long! I’m ngl, I lost a bit of inspiration for this for a while but I kinda forced myself to sit down and write it and it felt really good to finish something I felt I had given up on! I tried to make it a big one to make up for all the time I was gone! 

I also went back and read all the Anon messages I got from so many people and they really helped me, so thank you to absolutely everyone and all the anons who contributed ideas. I def included some in this part (and the coming parts) so if you spot it, I hope you enjoy it! 

Also, for the timing of his birthday versus when he started at Yancy Academy, IDK guys, I made it up. I don’t actually know about when he started versus when his birthday was so just… let it go ig. 

ALSO, I copied the dialogue for the diner scene almost verbatim from the show so I can’t take credit for writing that, but the descriptions attached to the dialogue are still mine. 

PS. I got a new divider that I love heheheh 

Also, I really hope y’all notice the significance of each of his birthday presents because I worked so unnecessarily hard on those. 

Summary: In one place, Percy grows up with his Aunt Sally, dealing with the struggles of being a demigod child. In another, you try to pretend you haven’t just given up your son and a life you have always wanted. Neither world is going as one would hope. 

Word count: 7.3k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), personal insecurity, insecurity about one’s parenting, absentee parents technically, light angst, Percy believing there is something wrong with him, negative view of one’s own ADHD and dyslexia, any warnings associated with Percy’s adventures, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

When you returned to Valhalla, you tried to put on a brave face. Your return was denoted by a grand feast, and the Aesir were simply so happy to see you return no one questioned the way you occasionally turned away to brush off stray tears or gazed at Yggdrasil as if you wanted to see into one of the worlds nestled in its branches. But aside from all of that, you were rather good at pretending to be happy. You drank a few sips of ale for every mug Thor drained, you danced half the night with Baldur, and you sat cosied up with Loki, ready to listen to whatever story of his latest shenanigans he wished to bestow on you. Everyone was happy. Things were as they were meant to be. 

As the sun began to creep toward the horizon and the Aesir made their way out of the grand hall, you found yourself walking with Odin back to your old quarters in Valhalla. When he first came up to you as you stood from the feast table, he had wrapped you up in his arms, whispering how he was happy at your return. Even now, he occasionally turns to look at you with his remaining eye and smiles gently. The walk was peaceful, quiet, a stillness in the air at that hour just before dawn. 

“Do you know what I gave up my eye for?” He asked out of the blue. You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head and looking at him almost incredulously. 

“Of course, all the gods know, you sacrificed your eye for all the knowledge of the world.” 

“Hm,” he nodded. Then he stopped in the hallway and turned to fully face you. You clasped your hands in front of you, heart suddenly beating just a little faster. “Did you know that this also means I know about Perseus?” 

You could suddenly hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could see Odin in front of you, but you also couldn’t. Your hands were sweaty and your dress was suddenly tight around your ribs. You looked up at him, shallow breaths blowing from your lips. But then Odin smiled, a small sad smile that somehow broke your heart just that little bit more. 

“I am the only one that knows, and it should be kept that way.” He reached out and caressed your cheek, and you closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek that he wiped away. “If it were different, I would have cherished meeting him.” Then he pulled away and walked back in the direction of the feasting hall. You listened to his footsteps fade away, before entering the room you had left behind for millenia. 

Every year, without fail, it rained on Percy’s birthday. When he first noticed, he thought it meant something special. That there was something magical out there, wishing him well. Whatever higher power was out there, they knew he loved to swim, to be in the water, and they sent the rain just for him. As he grew, he began simply chalking it up to weather patterns. August was just the time of year when rain happened upon the city. It wasn’t anything special, this was simply the one part of his life where he was lucky. 

Sally knew it was a blessing. She knew it was his father, celebrating the day in the best way he knew how, sending a message to Percy in the only way he could. She always took Percy outside, regardless of if the rain became a storm. She knew Percy would be safe in the rain. They made it a habit to go onto the fire-escape when the rain was at its worst, and they would spin around and dance and laugh. 

In all the time Sally had spent raising Percy, through all the challenges and the struggles, she never failed to notice how alike to his mother he was. Percy, seemingly since he was born, was obsessed with the colour blue. He only wanted to eat blue food, only wanted to wear blue clothes (it took a lot of convincing to introduce other colours to his wardrobe) and all the toys he chose were blue. He had an immense sweet tooth, and every time she watched him bite into a blue chocolate chip cookie, she fondly remembered the afternoon she had sat with his mother and watched the ravenous pregnant woman devour an entire tray of those same cookies. He smiled brightly and constantly, always happy and mischievous, just like his mother. But he was also trapped like his mother. He also cried like his mother. And most of all, both good and bad, he loved just as sincerely, as fiercely as his mother. 

Every year on Percy’s birthday, this fierce love was demonstrated. A surprise present would arrive, wrapped in shiny blue wrapping paper with only ‘To Percy Jackson’ written on it in loopy, elegant handwriting. Each year the box contained something different, something odd but somehow heartwarming and special. Sometimes he didn’t know why in the world someone would send him these things, but they felt important, and he kept them lined up on the chest of drawers opposite his bed, and counted them each night before he went to bed. At least when he was still living at home. He even had presents from years he didn’t remember, going all the way from his first birthday to his latest. 

On his first birthday, he had apparently received a spool of golden thread. For the life of him he couldn’t understand why someone would give a one year old thread. It’s a choking hazard! What were they thinking?! But it was beautiful and shiny, and sometimes he thought it might just be real gold, but he didn’t want to find out if it was. It somehow felt… more than just something for money. He used it only for the most important things, but however much he seemed to unravel, the thread never seemed to end. 

On his second birthday, the package was smaller. Sally sat him up and unwrapped it in front of him to reveal a little toy throne. It was small, about the size of an adult hand, and made of hard resin. It was so intricate, coloured like the ocean, even white and frothy in some places, and looked as if it was made with the whorls of the ocean. It had been his favourite little toy for a long time. 

His third birthday present was simply a feather. It was beautiful, and no matter how much he crushed the fibres or threw it around, it never lost its perfect shape. It came with a flat metal stand that had a little foam rectangle in the centre so he could stick the tip of the feather into it and leave it as a decoration. The metal stand was simply labelled ‘Pegasus’ and three year old Percy staunchly believed it was a feather from the wing of a Pegasus. Even at the ripe old age of thirteen he sometimes still liked to hope it was a feather from Pegasus, simply so he could believe that magic existed. 

For his fourth birthday, he received a framed painting. Even at four years old he thought it was weird, and he still believed it was an absolutely insane present to get a four year old. A painting? Seriously? It was beautiful though, and he appreciated it a lot more once he was older than he did at the time. He didn’t know where it was supposed to show, there was no date and no artist’s signature. The edges showed that the viewer was looking through the mouth of a cave onto some type of secret hidden lake. Trees surrounded the lake, and it had the most beautiful clear water. The artist had even depicted the rocks at the bottom, and sometimes, in the quietest and stillest moments of the day, if he looked really hard at the painting, he could almost see the water lapping at the shore. He could almost hear the gentle chirp of birds and the soft rustle of leaves. The entire painting always made him feel so odd, as if he could feel someone’s else's memories, someone else’s feelings. Someone had been happy there once, but now they only looked at it with sadness, as if a wonderful day by the lake had been ruined by a fight in the car on the way home. 

His fifth birthday present was just as odd as the rest of them. He still didn’t quite understand why someone had gifted him five oysters with pearls inside of them. He didn’t believe the pearls were real (that was the only reason he hadn’t pawned or sold them off so he could get some extra money for his Aunt Sally) simply because he had never seen an oyster like that. No one had, not even google. He thought they were pretty though, and kept them lined up on the back of his nightstand rather than on the chest of drawers. 

His favourite birthday present, from all those he had ever received, came on his sixth birthday. It was a conch shell, bigger than both the palms of his hands put together, with a dark blue colour that slowly faded to white as it twisted in on itself. Normally when he held it up to his ear, he could hear the sea, but unlike any other conch he had ever listened to. He could hear waves crashing, he could hear the ruffling and snuffling sort of sound they made as they frothed onto the shore. He could hear the swoosh as the waves pulled back. He could even hear the distant sort of gurgling a person hears when they’re underwater in the ocean, the sound of water moving about you. But then, at the darkest parts of the night, when he couldn’t sleep for whatever reason and pressed the shell to his ear, he could hear a gentle voice whispering ‘I love you’. It was soft, but calming and loving, the kind of ‘I love you’ a father whispers to his son just as he puts him to bed. He had never heard the voice before, but secretly he always wished it was somehow the voice of his own father. He tried not to think about that as much anymore. His father simply wasn’t here. 

A little zombie looking figurine arrived for his seventh birthday. This one felt a little more kid-appropriate, and he had loved playing with it when he was still into action figures. For a while he hadn’t known what character it was supposed to be, because while it looked like a zombie, it didn’t really look like the zombie figurines he had seen some of the other kids play with. The little circle that connected the two feet of the figurine was engraved with the word ‘Draugr’ and Aunt Sally had had to google that for him. The stories had scared him so much that for a while he had hidden the figure in the back of his toybox. 

By the time his eighth birthday had rolled around, he had begun to grow an interest in Greek mythology and the stories of Greek heroes. When he received a little storybook on Perseus and his adventures, he had asked Sally if she was the one sending him the secret presents. It had to be his Aunt Sally. She knew he liked Greek mythology, she had been the one to tell him that he was named after Perseus. Sure, the earlier gifts had been really weird, but maybe she had just become a better gift-giver over time? But Aunt Sally denied it, and when they opened the book, a little picture had been put in as a bookmark. It depicted a cabin high up on the cliffs of the fjords, small but homely looking, and it was simply marked with the word Norway in the bottom corner in that same loopy handwriting. Sally had simply replied “see, it can’t be from me because I’ve never even been to Norway. Plus, kid, have you ever seen me write that neatly?” He had sat there and read the entire book, pushing through even though the letters bounced around and sometimes he had to look completely away to be able to try and focus again. He kept the picture in the book and the book on his nightstand as well. Though he had read it countless times, thumbed each page a million times, the book still looked good as new. 

On his ninth birthday he got… a jar of sand. He was pretty disappointed at first, staring at it for a whole minute after he had taken it out of the wrapping. But then he saw that a little label had been pasted onto the top of the metal lid of the jar that simply said ‘Montauk’ and he realised it must be from the beach in front of the cabins they went to every year. It was seemingly sentimental, and it had made Aunt Sally smile all sad and happy and teary that he had told her to keep it in her room, so it would stay safe. 

On his tenth birthday, he only received an envelope. It was made of the same shimmery blue paper as the wrapping of all the other gifts he had ever received, and it had the same loopy handwriting, but it had been pushed under the door. Aunt Sally usually got her letters from the box downstairs, he had thought it was weird, but she had told him not to worry, that this must be special because it was his birthday. The only thing in the envelope was a picture. It was square, and about the size of a polaroid, but glossy like it had been taken by a digital camera and printed at some fancy shop. He couldn’t quite tell what it was at first. It looked like it was taken underwater, he could see little flecks of seaweed floating and sand that had been kicked up by the waves and little bubbles here and there. He could see the sandy floor as well, the way some of it was mid-movement with the waves. ‘Midnight on Montauk - where the water meets the sand’ was written on the back, and he thought it was weird that he had gotten two gifts from Montauk now. Nevertheless, he pinned the picture to the corkboard above his chest of drawers. 

On his eleventh birthday he got a gold coin. He was so excited at first. This was the first time he had ever gotten money as a present, let alone a frickin’ gold coin! He had even promised Aunt Sally he would take her out for ice cream with the money from the coin. But then he had looked at it again and realised that it was stamped with a trident on both sides. He had suddenly deflated, thinking it was some kind of gimmick coin they sold at souvenir shops (this gift-giver seemed to be way too sentimental) but Aunt Sally had quickly pressed it into his palm and told him to keep it very very safe. He kept it on him at all times now. At least some of his jeans had that little seemingly useless pocket, making it easy for him to carry it around. 

His last birthday, the one right before everything went wrong for the millionth time and got him sent to Yancy Academy, had brought a flat box filled with shredded paper. Nestled inside it was a framed weather report from the day he had been born. At the top was the cut out of a headline ‘Largest Storm to Ever Hit Montauk and all of New York’. Below it, there were a bunch of different images, from graphs about the intensity of the rainfall to satellite images of the eye of the storm and the area it covered. He thought it was kind of funny, and he put it up proudly on the chest of drawers. That day was the first time in a long time he had thought the rain on his birthday really meant something again. Maybe it wasn’t something special for him, maybe it was just the weather remembering the storm it had put on that day, and sending some rain in its memory. But it meant something. 

Grover heard whispers in his dreams. He never quite remembered what they were, never quite remembered what they said, but he knew that something whispered to him in his sleep. A woman, a soft, lilting voice that sounded just out of reach, was all that he had gleaned thus far. He didn’t know if the forces were good or bad, where the voice came from, but whenever he awoke there was a small niggling feeling inside him that he should be doing something. Deep in the pit of his stomach he felt like he had to be outside Camp Half-Blood, had to be chasing something or maybe finding something. It was an itch that no other satyr duty seemed to satiate. No amount of berries collected, animal cages cleaned, campfires attended made him forget the voice, forget the desire to follow its orders, whatever they may be. 

When he got his next mission to escort a demigod back to the camp, everything seemed to click into place inside him. When he was told that he would be responsible for bringing Percy Jackson safely back to the camp, it was like the gods themselves had come in and soothed whatever had been writhing inside him. This was what he had been waiting for. This was what the whispers had commanded for him. And somehow, he knew that this was the most important journey in his entire life… 

Three days before Percy’s twelfth birthday, a blue butterfly landed on his hand as he sat outside his latest school. It was the end of his first official week at Yancy Academy, and the school was rather… daunting. All the kids looked at him like he was dirt beneath their shoes and nothing seemed to be clicking with him. He was trying his best. When the kids whispered about him, he ignored it. When they started messing with his things, he just asked his teachers for new notebooks and moved on. Whatever they did, he chose to try peace and quiet. He didn’t want to make life even more difficult for his Aunt Sally, she was already doing everything she could to make sure he had a decent school to go to; this was their last chance and he wasn’t going to be the one that screwed it up. 

He sighed and rested his elbows on his crossed legs, staring out at the yard. If nothing else, at least Yancy had a nice garden to look at. He hadn’t noticed the fluttering little creature until it was directly in his line of sight. It took a few turns around in front of his face before landing directly on the tip of his nose. The little legs were slightly ticklish and he breathed out of his mouth to resist the urge to sneeze. 

It was beautiful. It almost glowed in the light, like a haze was surrounding its edges, and he reached up to gently touch the tip of its wing. It shattered right in front of his eyes, like a glass breaking against the floor. The little pieces floated all around and landed on his clothes, sticking to his jeans. He stared at his lap, wide eyed. What the- He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths in, a technique one of the many councillors had taught him to try and re-centre himself in the world. When he opened his eyes again, the pieces were still there, like glitter all over his clothes, but they were beginning to fade. 

Percy stared at his clothes, at the fading pieces of a butterfly that had somehow flown directly to him then shattered like glass, and stood up with a determination to forget this ever happened. He shook his head, as if to shake his brain into action. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. No one would believe him anyway. This was just another pegasus in the window. He wouldn’t speak of it until the next time he was at home. Aunt Sally could calm him down, Aunt Sally would make him feel better and they would solve this. There was just something fundamentally wrong with him, they needed to fix it soon. With a clench of his fist, he walked back inside, only to bump directly into someone who quickly introduced themselves as Grover Underwood….

“And then Grover beat me, Aunt Sally!” Percy told her excitedly as they sat at the dining table ravenously devouring stacks of blue pancakes. Sally smiled down at the boy, reaching forward and ruffling his curly hair as he shoved another forkful into his mouth. 

“Grover sounds awesome, I’m glad you guys found each other,” she told him happily, pretending like the satyr hadn’t already introduced himself as Percy’s guardian. “If you want, you can invite him up here today, we can have a little birthday party.” 

“Nah, todays about you and me Aunt Sally,” he smiled brightly up at her, syrup painting the corners of his mouth, and she stood up to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Alright then mister, have I got plans for you this weekend! I was gonna get us passes for the waterpark today but I knew it was gonna rain so it’s been postponed for tomorrow. Today will start with a swim at the indoor pool in a country club in Manhattan! Someone I know gave me her pass for the weekend,” Sally giggled, reaching out to high five Percy as he exclaimed ‘no way!’. 

“Is it Denise? I love Denise,” Percy asked excitedly, momentarily forgetting his plate. 

“No, I mentioned to one of my regular customers that it’s your birthday this weekend and that you love to swim so she got us signed up as her guests for the weekend!” Sally explained, smiling triumphantly. 

Though she always tried her hardest, sometimes she felt like Percy missed out on a better life because she didn’t make enough money. But Percy simply jumped up and hugged her tightly, whispering a ‘thank you’ against her ear. 

“Hold on, you haven’t even heard the entire plan!” She exclaimed, laughing as he pulled away and raised his hands as if in surrender. “Ok, so, then we’re gonna go get ice cream, I found this cool place near the country club that has a bunch of blue ice creams and I thought we could get a scoop of each so we have those cones piled with like ten scoops. Then we’ll come back here for a mov-” 

There was a knock at the door. Sally frowned for a second, turning to the door, but there was no other sound and she looked back to Percy as something dawned on her. She smiled gently, a rather wistful look in her eyes all of a sudden, and got up from where she was sitting adjacent to him. 

“That must be your special present.” Percy swallowed his latest too-big mouthful and got up from the table to meet Aunt Sally in the hallway. 

It was cube shaped this time, about the size of both his palms put together, and it had simply been left in front of their door. Sally brought the box inside and they stood by the window to look at it in the dim grey light from outside. It was covered in that same shiny blue wrapping paper as every other year, and his name was written in that same loopy style with a fresh black pen. His face was contorted in confusion and he took it from Sallys hands, ripping through the wrapping paper to the baby blue cardboard box beneath. He opened that too and Sally watched on curiously as he pulled out something wrapped in bubble wrap. Percy pulled the little pieces of tape holding it together and unfolded the sheet of wrapping to find a snowglobe nestled inside. 

The little stand that the orb was perched on was a blue so dark it was almost black, and smooth, without any engraving or description of the scene inside the ball. The globe itself showed a little scene of what looked like a campground, with lots of cabins and a big bonfire in the middle. It even had a little sign pointing in different directions, and had an open-air pavilion near the edge. It was cute, a little fancy, but he had no idea why in the world someone would send this to him. He had never been to camp before, but especially not this camp, whatever it was. He held it up to Sally and frowned at it. 

“I have no idea where this is,” he told her, but she was staring at it so intensely that he paused. Percy raised an eyebrow and pushed it toward her. “You know where this is? Have you been here before?” At first Sally didn’t answer, because yes, she knew where it was, she knew exactly what the snow globe was showing her, and she knew that it was a message. It meant that soon, she would have to say goodbye to Percy, and soon Percy would know everything she had been hiding from him his entire life. 

“It’s a campground, right?” She asked nonchalantly, “it’s cute though, I like it. Keep it on your dresser, I’m sure one day you’ll know more about it.” And she shrugged as if that day wasn’t coming very soon. 

Percy shrugged in return and went to his room to put the snowglobe on the dresser. A beam of sunlight had broken through the clouds and sparkled in the rain right onto his dresser. The water in the painting looked like it was moving again, and a phantom wind ruffled the fibres on the feather. He put the snowglobe between them carefully, directly in the light of the sun, and a little bit of glitter in the globe shined directly onto his eye. He squinted and bent down to look at it again. There, hidden behind one of the cabins because of the way he had been holding it earlier, was a tiny blue butterfly. It was so small it was easy to miss, but it looked exactly like the butterfly that had come to him. Percy felt his heart begin to race. Surely this was a coincidence. He blinked and rubbed his eyes roughly, then looked down at the snowglobe again. It was still there. The butterfly almost looked like it flapped its wings in the sunlight. No, surely not, this was just another sign that he was going crazy, that there was something really wrong with him. 

Percy shoved the snowglobe behind the painting and walked right back out to find Aunt Sally. She was sitting on the sofa waiting for him, smiling when he came over to her, but quickly her lips drooped into a frown at the look on his face. 

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” She asked, pulling him down to sit beside her. 

“Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. It’s happening again, it’s exactly like the horse on the rooftop and I-I don’t kno-” 

“Hey. Ok, let’s take a deep breath. Ok, good, one, two, three, four, ok now big release. Alright, good, now, start from the beginning.” She gently cupped his cheek for a moment before folding her hands in her lap and watching his face. 

“I was sitting in the garden at Yancy, I don’t know, I’d had kind of a crummy day, I guess, but then suddenly this butterfly came fluttering to me. Aunt Sally, I have never seen a butterfly like that. It’s like it wasn’t real. It was all shiny and like-like it was glowing? I don’t know, it just didn’t seem like it actually existed. But it came right up to me and landed on my nose. And I thought that was so cool, so I kinda just reached up and touched it. I mean, I didn’t even really touch it, the tip of my finger kinda just brushed it, but then it burst. I don’t even know, it shattered like it was made of glass. And that’s crazy because that’s not possible. Animals don’t shatter like that, nothing real shatters like that and just disappears. It broke into glitter and was all over me! I was trying to brush it off but it-it just wouldn’t come off, and then slowly, it just started to… fade away. Just like that. Ugh, I don’t know Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. I mean, it’s not normal to be seeing visions, even I know that.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I believe you,” she added simply, staring at him as if everything he had just said was the most important words to ever have come out of someone’s mouth. 

“What?” Percy tilted his head and looked at her with a frown, as if suddenly she was the crazy one, not him. 

“I believe you. I believe that that happened to you, but we’ll talk about that some other time.” She smiled sadly at him, reaching out to gently brush the hair away from his forehead. Percy scoffed, pulling back from her slightly. 

“What does that even mean? You just said you believed me, we need to talk about it now.” 

“Percy, when the time is right, we’ll talk about it,” Sally sighed, knowing she couldn’t delay this conversation for much longer. She just wanted him to be a kid as long as possible… “But today is your birthday, and we’re supposed to be having fun before you go back to school. So come on,” she clapped her hands and stood up, “there is a bag of blue jelly beans sitting in the kitchen with your name on it!” She sing-songed. 

“But Aunt Sally-” 

“Percy. Some other time.” Her lips were set in a line and her tone left no more room for argument. Sally left him to go to her room to start packing a backpack with stuff they would need for the pool, while Percy made his way to the kitchen and began slowly chewing on blue jelly beans, his mind stuck on the butterfly. 

That night, after a long day of swimming, and a little too much sugar, Sally sat in the middle of little garden they had made on their floor of the fire escape and let the rain douse her. She had already shoved a hungover Gabe into bed and locked the door on him in case he wanted to come back out and make any noise that disturbed Percy, and now, under the rain, she let her thoughts wander to the past thirteen years. 

Life with Percy had been as beautiful and loving as it had been difficult. She had known, from the beginning, that Percy would not be a normal kid. As much as his parents wanted him to be, as much as she wanted it for him, it simply wouldn’t happen. He was too special, the product of two worlds too incomprehensible. 

She remembered all the calls to schools. He couldn’t sit still, he couldn’t learn, he was too ‘disruptive’, too ‘distracted’. Each time it boiled her blood, broke her heart, because he wasn’t even made for this world, but these people had the audacity to reduce this child to what they considered bad things. She remembered all the times he would cry, clinging to her with his little hands wondering why he couldn’t be like the other kids, why he couldn’t focus like other kids or why he couldn’t study like the other kids, why he didn’t have parents like the other kids… 

She remembered the first time she had told little Percy about his dad. How excited he had been to learn that somewhere out there, he did have parents, parents who loved him and wanted to be with him but for some inexplicable reason, couldn’t. She had seen the way he had slowly dismissed that childish hope as he grew up, how he stopped asking about his mom, how he stopped wondering if he looked like his dad. He never asked anymore. 

The day she had used the coin suddenly floated to the front of her mind as she wiped the water from her eyes. She remembered it vividly. It had been a bad day. The baddest of days at that point. Percy was struggling, and she was on edge. There was a storm. It was still the years when she had been scared of storms, when they reminded her of the day Percy was born, the fear in Y/n’s eyes, the pain in Poseidon’s. She had driven them away from yet another school and decided to stop at a diner for lunch. Maybe ice cream would improve Percy’s mood. 

They had eaten in silence, neither of them ready to talk to the other. She had tried to make a few jokes before the food came, hoping to lift Percy’s mood, but he had simply pushed the salt and pepper shakers around the table and mumbled answers to her. After that she had given up on her attempts and sat in silence, staring out of the window and stewing in her own struggles. Maybe this was her breaking point, she thought. Maybe this was the moment when she couldn’t raise Percy anymore. She was struggling, and the last thing she wanted to do was to ruin his life because she couldn’t cope with raising a godly child. What could she do? No one could understand her situation, she couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. Was this the time to send him to camp? Was it the time to let him go, for his sake? Tears had begun to prick at her eyes but she wiped them away as the server had come by. 

They had finished their mains, and she had ordered a sundae for Percy in as excited a voice as she could manage, glad to see a little smile begin to curl at his lips. The server had engaged with him as well, asking him what toppings he wanted and how many ‘extras’ to add before telling the chef he wanted chocolate sauce. She had smiled at the server in thanks before telling Percy to stay put as she got up from the stall and went to the bar to settle the bill. 

At the bar, she asked for a glass of tap water and the bill, and when the bartender had deposited both, she pulled a coin out of her pocket. It was gold, and had tridents embossed on both sides. Even though she’d had it for years now, it hadn’t lost its shine. She brought the cup of water closer to her and flipped the coin over it, watching it twist in the air before falling into the water with a little ‘plonk’. She closed her eyes and whispered two names to herself, over and over and over. A crack of thunder shook through the diner, as if the storm was right overhead. She opened her eyes and stared into the glass of water as the door to the diner opened and someone walked in. The stool beside her was pulled out, and someone settled onto it with a slight creak. The sleeve of their shirt brushed against hers and the smell of salty sea air suddenly seemed to waft around her. She closed her eyes and whispered one of the names again, but nothing changed. Tears pricked at her eyes again, and she stared ahead of her, unable, unwilling, to look at the man that had settled down beside her. 

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, a tear escaping down her cheek. 

“No, it isn’t,” he replied quietly, his gruff voice comforting and painful at the same time. 

“And I am failing.” She clenched her hands around the cup of water at the uncomfortable truth of it all. More tears slipped out of her eyes now, easier than the first. 

“No, you’re not,” he answered instantly, and still neither of them looked at each other. For all anyone knew, they were strangers sitting beside each other at a bar. Sally closed her eyes and gulped, her eyes fluttering open as breathing became just that little more painful as she tried to keep a handle on herself. 

“I’m going to take him to camp,” she told him, releasing her grip around the glass of water and pushing it forward slightly. 

“Are you sure?” He asked simply, as if it was a casual decision, but she could still hear the gravity in the statement. 

“What choice do I have?” She whispered, “he and I living together in the city…” she paused, taking in a deep breath, “it’s starting to attract attention from your world.” He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together and stared at the floor behind the bar with an intensity that would make it crack if he truly wanted it to. “A winged horse followed him to school.” She let the statement settle into the air. “It saw him, he saw it. Sooner or later it’s not gonna be just pretty things that are following him,” she breathed out, shaking her head slightly and looking up to the ceiling as the tears pushed from her eyes again. 

It was so painful to sit here, mere steps from Percy, with the father he couldn’t meet. It was so painful, knowing that soon she would have to let him go, to let him fight his own battles. It was so painful knowing that there were forces much bigger than her little self, controlling everything, and making life so difficult for the beautiful little boy sitting just over there. 

“At camp, he will be safe,” she nodded to herself, taking a sharp breath in and staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that this was the best idea. 

“You don’t want him at camp,” he answered simply, as if he could look into her mind and see everything that she was thinking, as if he could look directly at her heart and see the immense amount of love she felt for that child. 

“No,” she breathed out painfully, “no, I don’t,” and she almost began crying with the words, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head. 

“Tell me why,” he stated as he stared down at the wood of the bar but his attention was fully on her. 

“You don’t wanna know why,” she scoffed lightly, shaking her head and looking to the ceiling again. Then she smiled, a rueful, exasperated little smile as he let out a huff of a chuckle. 

“Probably not. But you have no one to say it to, and maybe that’s the most unfair part of it.” He paused, just for a moment, but her heart began to feel a little lighter somehow. “You say it, and I will listen.” They were silent, sitting together and listening to the quiet sounds of the bar, the clinking of spoons and glasses and plates, the rush of water inside the dishwasher. 

“I want him to know who he is, before your worlds try to tell him who they want him to be,” her voice was forceful, verging on spiteful. “He is better than that, he has better things in him than that.” She was full of conviction, this was a truth she knew better than anything else in the world. Poseidon continued staring at the bar as he spoke. 

“Then you have your answer. He’s going to go to school, and he’s going to learn things you can’t teach him there, and it’s going to be hard for the both of you. And it’s going to be torture for the both of you. But he will be stronger for it on the other side. His aunt raised him well.” And her tears flowed again, as if something in her chest released but brought with it a stabbing pain of everything that could not be. 

“Do you wanna talk to him?” She asked through tears, hoping against all hope that he would say yes. “I know you shouldn’t,” she began, trying to convince him somehow. “Maybe just hear his voice,” she whispered, but there was another crack of thunder in the sky, and Poseidon turned away, listening as if he could hear things she could not. 

“One day,” he simply whispered, and when she looked up to finally meet his eyes, to finally look at him again after so many years, no one was sitting there. 

She sat at the bar for another few minutes, staring into the glass of water as if it had all the answers, but not one reason floated up for the absence of the boy’s mother. 

For thirteen years, you watched your son’s life in snippets. It was like a faulty connection on a tv, darkness one moment, then a flash of Percy smiling as he opened the new mystery present that had been left at his door. A moment of beauty and excitement as you watched him uncover pieces of the world that you and his father had created, the world that led to his being. Then darkness once more, a year of knowing nothing about his life no matter how hard you tried, then Percy crying in Sally’s arms, sobbing about his latest struggles at school, and a pain so sharp in your heart that you almost abandoned secrecy to go to him, then darkness again. You didn’t know why it was like this. Why you didn’t get to watch over him as you so hoped before he was born, why even a distant relationship was stolen from you. You spent days climbing over the roots of Yggdrasil, peering into different worlds and hoping to see Percy living his life. Even if you found a branch that looked into Midgard, you saw only the mountains, with little dots of people climbing up them that left you amused for a moment, or boats on the ocean that made your heart ache desperately for your husband. 

But you didn’t question it much either. Maybe it was his position between the two worlds of gods, the magic of the Fates and the Norns interfering with your powers, the mist cloaking him better than you had hoped. 

You continued with your life as it had been long before you knew of the existence of the Greek Pantheon. You filled your position as a good goddess should, protecting the people from threats bigger than them, refusing to interfere with the machinations of demigods and their quests. You had no way of knowing that this obstruction of your view was unnatural. How would you know that someone else’s designs were at play here? How could you possibly know that your own father was stopping you from hearing the desperate prayers meant for you, the pleas of your dear friend when she felt she could not cope? 

As you sat there beside Odin at the feast table, looking up to your father with reverence as he smiled cheerfully down at you, how were you to know he was actively hiding your son from you?

Taglist: @thicficbich1, @pasta-warlord, @turtleshavesoulmates, @wolfgirl294, @stanswifties, @mrsinclaire, @homanoid, @bellamysnatblida

[mooncleaver]

you know what, this whole story is like one of those fics that are really, really fucking good but only comes once in a blue moon, like an actual diamond in the rough.

reading about pjo poseidon is already obscure enough on its own, but to have a plot so interesting like norse x greek mythology PLUS percy technically being a god, what a truly compelling idea!!! i am honestly willing to wait a thousand years for any crumbs if that's what it takes. this has some insane ass writing too like i kid you not i started bawling when i saw part 7 was posted. the plot is so well thought out and i am in awe of how you're able to capture the pure magic that is mythology. from percy's gifts, the coin calling thing, the storms in august, i love how you bridged the godly and mortal world.

i especially enjoyed reading sally and percy's relationship. from when reader first met her at the beach i knew that woman was something special (as we all already know.) it's so sweet yet sad that he calls her aunt sally. i really like that despite the oddity of their whole family relationship, you didn't take away motherhood from the character. and on the topic of that, the gifts are such a great nuance! from montauk memories to the oysters and the paintings. my favorite would definitely be the conch shell. the voice whispering 'i love you' LIKE DIEEEE OMG. also the coin to percy I PRAYY that he'll get to use it soon. it's beautiful to read the way his parents are watching him grow too, even in the small ways they can. this is my favorite thing to read!

he wasn’t even made for this world, but these people had the audacity to reduce this child to what they considered bad things.

sigh. SIGHHHHHHHH

i really am not able to say all i want about this series, but i hope you know that it has genuinely changed me. will definitely come back to re-read from chapter 1 haha. wishing that we'll get to see more of percy discovering his parentage in future chapters! and i truly hope (no matter how dangerous it is lol) that sally is able to tell him like everything before he goes to camp. or at least half!! the cliffhanger on the last sentence is killing me btw. well, i can't wait for the family to be reunited and keep up the great work 😁

You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 7

Full Request Part

AN: I am so so sorry that this took me so long! I’m ngl, I lost a bit of inspiration for this for a while but I kinda forced myself to sit down and write it and it felt really good to finish something I felt I had given up on! I tried to make it a big one to make up for all the time I was gone! 

I also went back and read all the Anon messages I got from so many people and they really helped me, so thank you to absolutely everyone and all the anons who contributed ideas. I def included some in this part (and the coming parts) so if you spot it, I hope you enjoy it! 

Also, for the timing of his birthday versus when he started at Yancy Academy, IDK guys, I made it up. I don’t actually know about when he started versus when his birthday was so just… let it go ig. 

ALSO, I copied the dialogue for the diner scene almost verbatim from the show so I can’t take credit for writing that, but the descriptions attached to the dialogue are still mine. 

PS. I got a new divider that I love heheheh 

Also, I really hope y’all notice the significance of each of his birthday presents because I worked so unnecessarily hard on those. 

Summary: In one place, Percy grows up with his Aunt Sally, dealing with the struggles of being a demigod child. In another, you try to pretend you haven’t just given up your son and a life you have always wanted. Neither world is going as one would hope. 

Word count: 7.3k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), personal insecurity, insecurity about one’s parenting, absentee parents technically, light angst, Percy believing there is something wrong with him, negative view of one’s own ADHD and dyslexia, any warnings associated with Percy’s adventures, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

When you returned to Valhalla, you tried to put on a brave face. Your return was denoted by a grand feast, and the Aesir were simply so happy to see you return no one questioned the way you occasionally turned away to brush off stray tears or gazed at Yggdrasil as if you wanted to see into one of the worlds nestled in its branches. But aside from all of that, you were rather good at pretending to be happy. You drank a few sips of ale for every mug Thor drained, you danced half the night with Baldur, and you sat cosied up with Loki, ready to listen to whatever story of his latest shenanigans he wished to bestow on you. Everyone was happy. Things were as they were meant to be. 

As the sun began to creep toward the horizon and the Aesir made their way out of the grand hall, you found yourself walking with Odin back to your old quarters in Valhalla. When he first came up to you as you stood from the feast table, he had wrapped you up in his arms, whispering how he was happy at your return. Even now, he occasionally turns to look at you with his remaining eye and smiles gently. The walk was peaceful, quiet, a stillness in the air at that hour just before dawn. 

“Do you know what I gave up my eye for?” He asked out of the blue. You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head and looking at him almost incredulously. 

“Of course, all the gods know, you sacrificed your eye for all the knowledge of the world.” 

“Hm,” he nodded. Then he stopped in the hallway and turned to fully face you. You clasped your hands in front of you, heart suddenly beating just a little faster. “Did you know that this also means I know about Perseus?” 

You could suddenly hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could see Odin in front of you, but you also couldn’t. Your hands were sweaty and your dress was suddenly tight around your ribs. You looked up at him, shallow breaths blowing from your lips. But then Odin smiled, a small sad smile that somehow broke your heart just that little bit more. 

“I am the only one that knows, and it should be kept that way.” He reached out and caressed your cheek, and you closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek that he wiped away. “If it were different, I would have cherished meeting him.” Then he pulled away and walked back in the direction of the feasting hall. You listened to his footsteps fade away, before entering the room you had left behind for millenia. 

Every year, without fail, it rained on Percy’s birthday. When he first noticed, he thought it meant something special. That there was something magical out there, wishing him well. Whatever higher power was out there, they knew he loved to swim, to be in the water, and they sent the rain just for him. As he grew, he began simply chalking it up to weather patterns. August was just the time of year when rain happened upon the city. It wasn’t anything special, this was simply the one part of his life where he was lucky. 

Sally knew it was a blessing. She knew it was his father, celebrating the day in the best way he knew how, sending a message to Percy in the only way he could. She always took Percy outside, regardless of if the rain became a storm. She knew Percy would be safe in the rain. They made it a habit to go onto the fire-escape when the rain was at its worst, and they would spin around and dance and laugh. 

In all the time Sally had spent raising Percy, through all the challenges and the struggles, she never failed to notice how alike to his mother he was. Percy, seemingly since he was born, was obsessed with the colour blue. He only wanted to eat blue food, only wanted to wear blue clothes (it took a lot of convincing to introduce other colours to his wardrobe) and all the toys he chose were blue. He had an immense sweet tooth, and every time she watched him bite into a blue chocolate chip cookie, she fondly remembered the afternoon she had sat with his mother and watched the ravenous pregnant woman devour an entire tray of those same cookies. He smiled brightly and constantly, always happy and mischievous, just like his mother. But he was also trapped like his mother. He also cried like his mother. And most of all, both good and bad, he loved just as sincerely, as fiercely as his mother. 

Every year on Percy’s birthday, this fierce love was demonstrated. A surprise present would arrive, wrapped in shiny blue wrapping paper with only ‘To Percy Jackson’ written on it in loopy, elegant handwriting. Each year the box contained something different, something odd but somehow heartwarming and special. Sometimes he didn’t know why in the world someone would send him these things, but they felt important, and he kept them lined up on the chest of drawers opposite his bed, and counted them each night before he went to bed. At least when he was still living at home. He even had presents from years he didn’t remember, going all the way from his first birthday to his latest. 

On his first birthday, he had apparently received a spool of golden thread. For the life of him he couldn’t understand why someone would give a one year old thread. It’s a choking hazard! What were they thinking?! But it was beautiful and shiny, and sometimes he thought it might just be real gold, but he didn’t want to find out if it was. It somehow felt… more than just something for money. He used it only for the most important things, but however much he seemed to unravel, the thread never seemed to end. 

On his second birthday, the package was smaller. Sally sat him up and unwrapped it in front of him to reveal a little toy throne. It was small, about the size of an adult hand, and made of hard resin. It was so intricate, coloured like the ocean, even white and frothy in some places, and looked as if it was made with the whorls of the ocean. It had been his favourite little toy for a long time. 

His third birthday present was simply a feather. It was beautiful, and no matter how much he crushed the fibres or threw it around, it never lost its perfect shape. It came with a flat metal stand that had a little foam rectangle in the centre so he could stick the tip of the feather into it and leave it as a decoration. The metal stand was simply labelled ‘Pegasus’ and three year old Percy staunchly believed it was a feather from the wing of a Pegasus. Even at the ripe old age of thirteen he sometimes still liked to hope it was a feather from Pegasus, simply so he could believe that magic existed. 

For his fourth birthday, he received a framed painting. Even at four years old he thought it was weird, and he still believed it was an absolutely insane present to get a four year old. A painting? Seriously? It was beautiful though, and he appreciated it a lot more once he was older than he did at the time. He didn’t know where it was supposed to show, there was no date and no artist’s signature. The edges showed that the viewer was looking through the mouth of a cave onto some type of secret hidden lake. Trees surrounded the lake, and it had the most beautiful clear water. The artist had even depicted the rocks at the bottom, and sometimes, in the quietest and stillest moments of the day, if he looked really hard at the painting, he could almost see the water lapping at the shore. He could almost hear the gentle chirp of birds and the soft rustle of leaves. The entire painting always made him feel so odd, as if he could feel someone’s else's memories, someone else’s feelings. Someone had been happy there once, but now they only looked at it with sadness, as if a wonderful day by the lake had been ruined by a fight in the car on the way home. 

His fifth birthday present was just as odd as the rest of them. He still didn’t quite understand why someone had gifted him five oysters with pearls inside of them. He didn’t believe the pearls were real (that was the only reason he hadn’t pawned or sold them off so he could get some extra money for his Aunt Sally) simply because he had never seen an oyster like that. No one had, not even google. He thought they were pretty though, and kept them lined up on the back of his nightstand rather than on the chest of drawers. 

His favourite birthday present, from all those he had ever received, came on his sixth birthday. It was a conch shell, bigger than both the palms of his hands put together, with a dark blue colour that slowly faded to white as it twisted in on itself. Normally when he held it up to his ear, he could hear the sea, but unlike any other conch he had ever listened to. He could hear waves crashing, he could hear the ruffling and snuffling sort of sound they made as they frothed onto the shore. He could hear the swoosh as the waves pulled back. He could even hear the distant sort of gurgling a person hears when they’re underwater in the ocean, the sound of water moving about you. But then, at the darkest parts of the night, when he couldn’t sleep for whatever reason and pressed the shell to his ear, he could hear a gentle voice whispering ‘I love you’. It was soft, but calming and loving, the kind of ‘I love you’ a father whispers to his son just as he puts him to bed. He had never heard the voice before, but secretly he always wished it was somehow the voice of his own father. He tried not to think about that as much anymore. His father simply wasn’t here. 

A little zombie looking figurine arrived for his seventh birthday. This one felt a little more kid-appropriate, and he had loved playing with it when he was still into action figures. For a while he hadn’t known what character it was supposed to be, because while it looked like a zombie, it didn’t really look like the zombie figurines he had seen some of the other kids play with. The little circle that connected the two feet of the figurine was engraved with the word ‘Draugr’ and Aunt Sally had had to google that for him. The stories had scared him so much that for a while he had hidden the figure in the back of his toybox. 

By the time his eighth birthday had rolled around, he had begun to grow an interest in Greek mythology and the stories of Greek heroes. When he received a little storybook on Perseus and his adventures, he had asked Sally if she was the one sending him the secret presents. It had to be his Aunt Sally. She knew he liked Greek mythology, she had been the one to tell him that he was named after Perseus. Sure, the earlier gifts had been really weird, but maybe she had just become a better gift-giver over time? But Aunt Sally denied it, and when they opened the book, a little picture had been put in as a bookmark. It depicted a cabin high up on the cliffs of the fjords, small but homely looking, and it was simply marked with the word Norway in the bottom corner in that same loopy handwriting. Sally had simply replied “see, it can’t be from me because I’ve never even been to Norway. Plus, kid, have you ever seen me write that neatly?” He had sat there and read the entire book, pushing through even though the letters bounced around and sometimes he had to look completely away to be able to try and focus again. He kept the picture in the book and the book on his nightstand as well. Though he had read it countless times, thumbed each page a million times, the book still looked good as new. 

On his ninth birthday he got… a jar of sand. He was pretty disappointed at first, staring at it for a whole minute after he had taken it out of the wrapping. But then he saw that a little label had been pasted onto the top of the metal lid of the jar that simply said ‘Montauk’ and he realised it must be from the beach in front of the cabins they went to every year. It was seemingly sentimental, and it had made Aunt Sally smile all sad and happy and teary that he had told her to keep it in her room, so it would stay safe. 

On his tenth birthday, he only received an envelope. It was made of the same shimmery blue paper as the wrapping of all the other gifts he had ever received, and it had the same loopy handwriting, but it had been pushed under the door. Aunt Sally usually got her letters from the box downstairs, he had thought it was weird, but she had told him not to worry, that this must be special because it was his birthday. The only thing in the envelope was a picture. It was square, and about the size of a polaroid, but glossy like it had been taken by a digital camera and printed at some fancy shop. He couldn’t quite tell what it was at first. It looked like it was taken underwater, he could see little flecks of seaweed floating and sand that had been kicked up by the waves and little bubbles here and there. He could see the sandy floor as well, the way some of it was mid-movement with the waves. ‘Midnight on Montauk - where the water meets the sand’ was written on the back, and he thought it was weird that he had gotten two gifts from Montauk now. Nevertheless, he pinned the picture to the corkboard above his chest of drawers. 

On his eleventh birthday he got a gold coin. He was so excited at first. This was the first time he had ever gotten money as a present, let alone a frickin’ gold coin! He had even promised Aunt Sally he would take her out for ice cream with the money from the coin. But then he had looked at it again and realised that it was stamped with a trident on both sides. He had suddenly deflated, thinking it was some kind of gimmick coin they sold at souvenir shops (this gift-giver seemed to be way too sentimental) but Aunt Sally had quickly pressed it into his palm and told him to keep it very very safe. He kept it on him at all times now. At least some of his jeans had that little seemingly useless pocket, making it easy for him to carry it around. 

His last birthday, the one right before everything went wrong for the millionth time and got him sent to Yancy Academy, had brought a flat box filled with shredded paper. Nestled inside it was a framed weather report from the day he had been born. At the top was the cut out of a headline ‘Largest Storm to Ever Hit Montauk and all of New York’. Below it, there were a bunch of different images, from graphs about the intensity of the rainfall to satellite images of the eye of the storm and the area it covered. He thought it was kind of funny, and he put it up proudly on the chest of drawers. That day was the first time in a long time he had thought the rain on his birthday really meant something again. Maybe it wasn’t something special for him, maybe it was just the weather remembering the storm it had put on that day, and sending some rain in its memory. But it meant something. 

Grover heard whispers in his dreams. He never quite remembered what they were, never quite remembered what they said, but he knew that something whispered to him in his sleep. A woman, a soft, lilting voice that sounded just out of reach, was all that he had gleaned thus far. He didn’t know if the forces were good or bad, where the voice came from, but whenever he awoke there was a small niggling feeling inside him that he should be doing something. Deep in the pit of his stomach he felt like he had to be outside Camp Half-Blood, had to be chasing something or maybe finding something. It was an itch that no other satyr duty seemed to satiate. No amount of berries collected, animal cages cleaned, campfires attended made him forget the voice, forget the desire to follow its orders, whatever they may be. 

When he got his next mission to escort a demigod back to the camp, everything seemed to click into place inside him. When he was told that he would be responsible for bringing Percy Jackson safely back to the camp, it was like the gods themselves had come in and soothed whatever had been writhing inside him. This was what he had been waiting for. This was what the whispers had commanded for him. And somehow, he knew that this was the most important journey in his entire life… 

Three days before Percy’s twelfth birthday, a blue butterfly landed on his hand as he sat outside his latest school. It was the end of his first official week at Yancy Academy, and the school was rather… daunting. All the kids looked at him like he was dirt beneath their shoes and nothing seemed to be clicking with him. He was trying his best. When the kids whispered about him, he ignored it. When they started messing with his things, he just asked his teachers for new notebooks and moved on. Whatever they did, he chose to try peace and quiet. He didn’t want to make life even more difficult for his Aunt Sally, she was already doing everything she could to make sure he had a decent school to go to; this was their last chance and he wasn’t going to be the one that screwed it up. 

He sighed and rested his elbows on his crossed legs, staring out at the yard. If nothing else, at least Yancy had a nice garden to look at. He hadn’t noticed the fluttering little creature until it was directly in his line of sight. It took a few turns around in front of his face before landing directly on the tip of his nose. The little legs were slightly ticklish and he breathed out of his mouth to resist the urge to sneeze. 

It was beautiful. It almost glowed in the light, like a haze was surrounding its edges, and he reached up to gently touch the tip of its wing. It shattered right in front of his eyes, like a glass breaking against the floor. The little pieces floated all around and landed on his clothes, sticking to his jeans. He stared at his lap, wide eyed. What the- He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths in, a technique one of the many councillors had taught him to try and re-centre himself in the world. When he opened his eyes again, the pieces were still there, like glitter all over his clothes, but they were beginning to fade. 

Percy stared at his clothes, at the fading pieces of a butterfly that had somehow flown directly to him then shattered like glass, and stood up with a determination to forget this ever happened. He shook his head, as if to shake his brain into action. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. No one would believe him anyway. This was just another pegasus in the window. He wouldn’t speak of it until the next time he was at home. Aunt Sally could calm him down, Aunt Sally would make him feel better and they would solve this. There was just something fundamentally wrong with him, they needed to fix it soon. With a clench of his fist, he walked back inside, only to bump directly into someone who quickly introduced themselves as Grover Underwood….

“And then Grover beat me, Aunt Sally!” Percy told her excitedly as they sat at the dining table ravenously devouring stacks of blue pancakes. Sally smiled down at the boy, reaching forward and ruffling his curly hair as he shoved another forkful into his mouth. 

“Grover sounds awesome, I’m glad you guys found each other,” she told him happily, pretending like the satyr hadn’t already introduced himself as Percy’s guardian. “If you want, you can invite him up here today, we can have a little birthday party.” 

“Nah, todays about you and me Aunt Sally,” he smiled brightly up at her, syrup painting the corners of his mouth, and she stood up to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Alright then mister, have I got plans for you this weekend! I was gonna get us passes for the waterpark today but I knew it was gonna rain so it’s been postponed for tomorrow. Today will start with a swim at the indoor pool in a country club in Manhattan! Someone I know gave me her pass for the weekend,” Sally giggled, reaching out to high five Percy as he exclaimed ‘no way!’. 

“Is it Denise? I love Denise,” Percy asked excitedly, momentarily forgetting his plate. 

“No, I mentioned to one of my regular customers that it’s your birthday this weekend and that you love to swim so she got us signed up as her guests for the weekend!” Sally explained, smiling triumphantly. 

Though she always tried her hardest, sometimes she felt like Percy missed out on a better life because she didn’t make enough money. But Percy simply jumped up and hugged her tightly, whispering a ‘thank you’ against her ear. 

“Hold on, you haven’t even heard the entire plan!” She exclaimed, laughing as he pulled away and raised his hands as if in surrender. “Ok, so, then we’re gonna go get ice cream, I found this cool place near the country club that has a bunch of blue ice creams and I thought we could get a scoop of each so we have those cones piled with like ten scoops. Then we’ll come back here for a mov-” 

There was a knock at the door. Sally frowned for a second, turning to the door, but there was no other sound and she looked back to Percy as something dawned on her. She smiled gently, a rather wistful look in her eyes all of a sudden, and got up from where she was sitting adjacent to him. 

“That must be your special present.” Percy swallowed his latest too-big mouthful and got up from the table to meet Aunt Sally in the hallway. 

It was cube shaped this time, about the size of both his palms put together, and it had simply been left in front of their door. Sally brought the box inside and they stood by the window to look at it in the dim grey light from outside. It was covered in that same shiny blue wrapping paper as every other year, and his name was written in that same loopy style with a fresh black pen. His face was contorted in confusion and he took it from Sallys hands, ripping through the wrapping paper to the baby blue cardboard box beneath. He opened that too and Sally watched on curiously as he pulled out something wrapped in bubble wrap. Percy pulled the little pieces of tape holding it together and unfolded the sheet of wrapping to find a snowglobe nestled inside. 

The little stand that the orb was perched on was a blue so dark it was almost black, and smooth, without any engraving or description of the scene inside the ball. The globe itself showed a little scene of what looked like a campground, with lots of cabins and a big bonfire in the middle. It even had a little sign pointing in different directions, and had an open-air pavilion near the edge. It was cute, a little fancy, but he had no idea why in the world someone would send this to him. He had never been to camp before, but especially not this camp, whatever it was. He held it up to Sally and frowned at it. 

“I have no idea where this is,” he told her, but she was staring at it so intensely that he paused. Percy raised an eyebrow and pushed it toward her. “You know where this is? Have you been here before?” At first Sally didn’t answer, because yes, she knew where it was, she knew exactly what the snow globe was showing her, and she knew that it was a message. It meant that soon, she would have to say goodbye to Percy, and soon Percy would know everything she had been hiding from him his entire life. 

“It’s a campground, right?” She asked nonchalantly, “it’s cute though, I like it. Keep it on your dresser, I’m sure one day you’ll know more about it.” And she shrugged as if that day wasn’t coming very soon. 

Percy shrugged in return and went to his room to put the snowglobe on the dresser. A beam of sunlight had broken through the clouds and sparkled in the rain right onto his dresser. The water in the painting looked like it was moving again, and a phantom wind ruffled the fibres on the feather. He put the snowglobe between them carefully, directly in the light of the sun, and a little bit of glitter in the globe shined directly onto his eye. He squinted and bent down to look at it again. There, hidden behind one of the cabins because of the way he had been holding it earlier, was a tiny blue butterfly. It was so small it was easy to miss, but it looked exactly like the butterfly that had come to him. Percy felt his heart begin to race. Surely this was a coincidence. He blinked and rubbed his eyes roughly, then looked down at the snowglobe again. It was still there. The butterfly almost looked like it flapped its wings in the sunlight. No, surely not, this was just another sign that he was going crazy, that there was something really wrong with him. 

Percy shoved the snowglobe behind the painting and walked right back out to find Aunt Sally. She was sitting on the sofa waiting for him, smiling when he came over to her, but quickly her lips drooped into a frown at the look on his face. 

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” She asked, pulling him down to sit beside her. 

“Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. It’s happening again, it’s exactly like the horse on the rooftop and I-I don’t kno-” 

“Hey. Ok, let’s take a deep breath. Ok, good, one, two, three, four, ok now big release. Alright, good, now, start from the beginning.” She gently cupped his cheek for a moment before folding her hands in her lap and watching his face. 

“I was sitting in the garden at Yancy, I don’t know, I’d had kind of a crummy day, I guess, but then suddenly this butterfly came fluttering to me. Aunt Sally, I have never seen a butterfly like that. It’s like it wasn’t real. It was all shiny and like-like it was glowing? I don’t know, it just didn’t seem like it actually existed. But it came right up to me and landed on my nose. And I thought that was so cool, so I kinda just reached up and touched it. I mean, I didn’t even really touch it, the tip of my finger kinda just brushed it, but then it burst. I don’t even know, it shattered like it was made of glass. And that’s crazy because that’s not possible. Animals don’t shatter like that, nothing real shatters like that and just disappears. It broke into glitter and was all over me! I was trying to brush it off but it-it just wouldn’t come off, and then slowly, it just started to… fade away. Just like that. Ugh, I don’t know Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. I mean, it’s not normal to be seeing visions, even I know that.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I believe you,” she added simply, staring at him as if everything he had just said was the most important words to ever have come out of someone’s mouth. 

“What?” Percy tilted his head and looked at her with a frown, as if suddenly she was the crazy one, not him. 

“I believe you. I believe that that happened to you, but we’ll talk about that some other time.” She smiled sadly at him, reaching out to gently brush the hair away from his forehead. Percy scoffed, pulling back from her slightly. 

“What does that even mean? You just said you believed me, we need to talk about it now.” 

“Percy, when the time is right, we’ll talk about it,” Sally sighed, knowing she couldn’t delay this conversation for much longer. She just wanted him to be a kid as long as possible… “But today is your birthday, and we’re supposed to be having fun before you go back to school. So come on,” she clapped her hands and stood up, “there is a bag of blue jelly beans sitting in the kitchen with your name on it!” She sing-songed. 

“But Aunt Sally-” 

“Percy. Some other time.” Her lips were set in a line and her tone left no more room for argument. Sally left him to go to her room to start packing a backpack with stuff they would need for the pool, while Percy made his way to the kitchen and began slowly chewing on blue jelly beans, his mind stuck on the butterfly. 

That night, after a long day of swimming, and a little too much sugar, Sally sat in the middle of little garden they had made on their floor of the fire escape and let the rain douse her. She had already shoved a hungover Gabe into bed and locked the door on him in case he wanted to come back out and make any noise that disturbed Percy, and now, under the rain, she let her thoughts wander to the past thirteen years. 

Life with Percy had been as beautiful and loving as it had been difficult. She had known, from the beginning, that Percy would not be a normal kid. As much as his parents wanted him to be, as much as she wanted it for him, it simply wouldn’t happen. He was too special, the product of two worlds too incomprehensible. 

She remembered all the calls to schools. He couldn’t sit still, he couldn’t learn, he was too ‘disruptive’, too ‘distracted’. Each time it boiled her blood, broke her heart, because he wasn’t even made for this world, but these people had the audacity to reduce this child to what they considered bad things. She remembered all the times he would cry, clinging to her with his little hands wondering why he couldn’t be like the other kids, why he couldn’t focus like other kids or why he couldn’t study like the other kids, why he didn’t have parents like the other kids… 

She remembered the first time she had told little Percy about his dad. How excited he had been to learn that somewhere out there, he did have parents, parents who loved him and wanted to be with him but for some inexplicable reason, couldn’t. She had seen the way he had slowly dismissed that childish hope as he grew up, how he stopped asking about his mom, how he stopped wondering if he looked like his dad. He never asked anymore. 

The day she had used the coin suddenly floated to the front of her mind as she wiped the water from her eyes. She remembered it vividly. It had been a bad day. The baddest of days at that point. Percy was struggling, and she was on edge. There was a storm. It was still the years when she had been scared of storms, when they reminded her of the day Percy was born, the fear in Y/n’s eyes, the pain in Poseidon’s. She had driven them away from yet another school and decided to stop at a diner for lunch. Maybe ice cream would improve Percy’s mood. 

They had eaten in silence, neither of them ready to talk to the other. She had tried to make a few jokes before the food came, hoping to lift Percy’s mood, but he had simply pushed the salt and pepper shakers around the table and mumbled answers to her. After that she had given up on her attempts and sat in silence, staring out of the window and stewing in her own struggles. Maybe this was her breaking point, she thought. Maybe this was the moment when she couldn’t raise Percy anymore. She was struggling, and the last thing she wanted to do was to ruin his life because she couldn’t cope with raising a godly child. What could she do? No one could understand her situation, she couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. Was this the time to send him to camp? Was it the time to let him go, for his sake? Tears had begun to prick at her eyes but she wiped them away as the server had come by. 

They had finished their mains, and she had ordered a sundae for Percy in as excited a voice as she could manage, glad to see a little smile begin to curl at his lips. The server had engaged with him as well, asking him what toppings he wanted and how many ‘extras’ to add before telling the chef he wanted chocolate sauce. She had smiled at the server in thanks before telling Percy to stay put as she got up from the stall and went to the bar to settle the bill. 

At the bar, she asked for a glass of tap water and the bill, and when the bartender had deposited both, she pulled a coin out of her pocket. It was gold, and had tridents embossed on both sides. Even though she’d had it for years now, it hadn’t lost its shine. She brought the cup of water closer to her and flipped the coin over it, watching it twist in the air before falling into the water with a little ‘plonk’. She closed her eyes and whispered two names to herself, over and over and over. A crack of thunder shook through the diner, as if the storm was right overhead. She opened her eyes and stared into the glass of water as the door to the diner opened and someone walked in. The stool beside her was pulled out, and someone settled onto it with a slight creak. The sleeve of their shirt brushed against hers and the smell of salty sea air suddenly seemed to waft around her. She closed her eyes and whispered one of the names again, but nothing changed. Tears pricked at her eyes again, and she stared ahead of her, unable, unwilling, to look at the man that had settled down beside her. 

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, a tear escaping down her cheek. 

“No, it isn’t,” he replied quietly, his gruff voice comforting and painful at the same time. 

“And I am failing.” She clenched her hands around the cup of water at the uncomfortable truth of it all. More tears slipped out of her eyes now, easier than the first. 

“No, you’re not,” he answered instantly, and still neither of them looked at each other. For all anyone knew, they were strangers sitting beside each other at a bar. Sally closed her eyes and gulped, her eyes fluttering open as breathing became just that little more painful as she tried to keep a handle on herself. 

“I’m going to take him to camp,” she told him, releasing her grip around the glass of water and pushing it forward slightly. 

“Are you sure?” He asked simply, as if it was a casual decision, but she could still hear the gravity in the statement. 

“What choice do I have?” She whispered, “he and I living together in the city…” she paused, taking in a deep breath, “it’s starting to attract attention from your world.” He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together and stared at the floor behind the bar with an intensity that would make it crack if he truly wanted it to. “A winged horse followed him to school.” She let the statement settle into the air. “It saw him, he saw it. Sooner or later it’s not gonna be just pretty things that are following him,” she breathed out, shaking her head slightly and looking up to the ceiling as the tears pushed from her eyes again. 

It was so painful to sit here, mere steps from Percy, with the father he couldn’t meet. It was so painful, knowing that soon she would have to let him go, to let him fight his own battles. It was so painful knowing that there were forces much bigger than her little self, controlling everything, and making life so difficult for the beautiful little boy sitting just over there. 

“At camp, he will be safe,” she nodded to herself, taking a sharp breath in and staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that this was the best idea. 

“You don’t want him at camp,” he answered simply, as if he could look into her mind and see everything that she was thinking, as if he could look directly at her heart and see the immense amount of love she felt for that child. 

“No,” she breathed out painfully, “no, I don’t,” and she almost began crying with the words, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head. 

“Tell me why,” he stated as he stared down at the wood of the bar but his attention was fully on her. 

“You don’t wanna know why,” she scoffed lightly, shaking her head and looking to the ceiling again. Then she smiled, a rueful, exasperated little smile as he let out a huff of a chuckle. 

“Probably not. But you have no one to say it to, and maybe that’s the most unfair part of it.” He paused, just for a moment, but her heart began to feel a little lighter somehow. “You say it, and I will listen.” They were silent, sitting together and listening to the quiet sounds of the bar, the clinking of spoons and glasses and plates, the rush of water inside the dishwasher. 

“I want him to know who he is, before your worlds try to tell him who they want him to be,” her voice was forceful, verging on spiteful. “He is better than that, he has better things in him than that.” She was full of conviction, this was a truth she knew better than anything else in the world. Poseidon continued staring at the bar as he spoke. 

“Then you have your answer. He’s going to go to school, and he’s going to learn things you can’t teach him there, and it’s going to be hard for the both of you. And it’s going to be torture for the both of you. But he will be stronger for it on the other side. His aunt raised him well.” And her tears flowed again, as if something in her chest released but brought with it a stabbing pain of everything that could not be. 

“Do you wanna talk to him?” She asked through tears, hoping against all hope that he would say yes. “I know you shouldn’t,” she began, trying to convince him somehow. “Maybe just hear his voice,” she whispered, but there was another crack of thunder in the sky, and Poseidon turned away, listening as if he could hear things she could not. 

“One day,” he simply whispered, and when she looked up to finally meet his eyes, to finally look at him again after so many years, no one was sitting there. 

She sat at the bar for another few minutes, staring into the glass of water as if it had all the answers, but not one reason floated up for the absence of the boy’s mother. 

For thirteen years, you watched your son’s life in snippets. It was like a faulty connection on a tv, darkness one moment, then a flash of Percy smiling as he opened the new mystery present that had been left at his door. A moment of beauty and excitement as you watched him uncover pieces of the world that you and his father had created, the world that led to his being. Then darkness once more, a year of knowing nothing about his life no matter how hard you tried, then Percy crying in Sally’s arms, sobbing about his latest struggles at school, and a pain so sharp in your heart that you almost abandoned secrecy to go to him, then darkness again. You didn’t know why it was like this. Why you didn’t get to watch over him as you so hoped before he was born, why even a distant relationship was stolen from you. You spent days climbing over the roots of Yggdrasil, peering into different worlds and hoping to see Percy living his life. Even if you found a branch that looked into Midgard, you saw only the mountains, with little dots of people climbing up them that left you amused for a moment, or boats on the ocean that made your heart ache desperately for your husband. 

But you didn’t question it much either. Maybe it was his position between the two worlds of gods, the magic of the Fates and the Norns interfering with your powers, the mist cloaking him better than you had hoped. 

You continued with your life as it had been long before you knew of the existence of the Greek Pantheon. You filled your position as a good goddess should, protecting the people from threats bigger than them, refusing to interfere with the machinations of demigods and their quests. You had no way of knowing that this obstruction of your view was unnatural. How would you know that someone else’s designs were at play here? How could you possibly know that your own father was stopping you from hearing the desperate prayers meant for you, the pleas of your dear friend when she felt she could not cope? 

As you sat there beside Odin at the feast table, looking up to your father with reverence as he smiled cheerfully down at you, how were you to know he was actively hiding your son from you?

Taglist: @thicficbich1, @pasta-warlord, @turtleshavesoulmates, @wolfgirl294, @stanswifties, @mrsinclaire, @homanoid, @bellamysnatblida

[mooncleaver]

blah blah azriel and elain blah blah blah azriel and gwen, no no no it’s azriel and me 😌

[mooncleaver]

OMG SISSS I LITERALLY MISSED YOU AND OUR INTERACTIONS SMMM 😭😭

i am SO freaking happy that you enjoyed reading and i feel so relieved to know how well received this story is! literally thank you so much for even going through the whole fic haha it was purely me gushing and projecting my wildest domestic dreams about azriel.

UGHHH ILY!! so happy that you loved the ring part bc I TOO am obsessed with the idea of it.

THANK YOU AGAIN!! FOR READINGG and coming here i am really glad to be back again too :D really looking forward to catching up with you and your stories as well!! hehe x

Tender Mornings

you know it's a good day when the first sight you're greeted with is azriel sprawled out so beautifully on your bed.

ღ pairing: azriel x fem!reader 

ღ warnings: very loosely cannonical pls don't ask i live in my dreams, fluff after fluff in your face, they’re MATED AND MARRIED!! 🥰 touchy azriel

"Good morning, handsome."

Your voice murmurs into Azriel's ears early in the morning, waking him out of his peaceful slumber. It's a quiet day, and definitely not the kind of quiet you'd be alerted by, hackles raised and ears perked for signs of danger. No, this was peace. The birds are chirping and the distant sounds of city bustle has just begun its routine, and you can't help but stare at your mate, the absence of fine lines on his forehead creating one of the most endearing pictures in your mind.

Honestly, you don't know how you've managed to slip out of his iron grip a few hours ago. Even his shadows had been relatively calm. But you pieced it to him finally getting his well-deserved sleep after a grueling week of running around as spymaster for Night Court. He'd almost collapsed right on top of you on the couch the moment he got home at the dead of night, practically purring under you into a dreamless sleep while you ran your hands through his hair. You love it when he's just Azriel with you. Not the deadly shadowsinger with eyes that could kill, but the one snoring himself away in your shared bed, wings splayed out without a care in this world.

As he opens his eyes blearily, he can make out your soft fingers on his face, warm and comforting as your thumb strokes his cheek, squatting down on the floor beside his edge of the bed. It's an awfully good morning whenever you're there to wake him up, which isn't often considering how light of a sleeper Azriel is. It's one of the rare times that he had a fully undisturbed 8 hours of sleep, with no nightmares plaguing his visions. 

He smiles, seeing your face first thing. Gods, he would die over and over again if this was the sight he woke up to each time.

Noticing his expression, your grin widens as you lift your other hand from laying on the sheets, cradling his face and brushing your nose against his, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mate, all the while feeling the bond pulsate like a well-known bliss inside your chest. The golden band on your left ring finger glints wonderfully in the morning sun, the rays illuminating it as if it were a halo wrapped around your skin. The ring is a dainty but simple thing, its surface raised with signature Night Court swirls and stars, the pattern a twin to the bargain marks painting your sternum—the one that you made with Azriel the day of your ceremony with promises to love and protect, even beyond death.

It was an unusual thing to have around in Pythian, considering it was a human tradition. 

You and Azriel picked up the custom after learning it from a mission the two of you went to a long time ago in the human lands. Of course, it wasn't like either of you needed conventional items to show your relationship, knowing the Mother had already blessed you with one of magic, something so deeply sacred that transcended both words and worlds. Still, you thought that the piece of gold represented a beautiful message. It told the story of your battles and triumphs, the countless suffering and victories that got you to where you were, being able to hold the hand of your fated mate, rings clinking and echoing the bells that rung in your mating ceremony. No distance could ever separate you. And most of all, it reminded you every waking day of the way Azriel accepted you as his, as someone who loved him through thick and thin, someone who he would kill and die for.

You were always a victim of sentiment, and neither you nor Azriel could deny the pride the two of you felt seeing each other's rings—the way it felt like a claim over each other, physical proof of your love beyond words.

When Feyre met the Inner Circle for the first time, she became an addition to the people who appreciated the symbol. You were confused at first, wondering why the Cursebreaker was staring at you so deeply. Then you saw the way her eyes never wavered from your hand, the one that was brushing against Azriel's scarred ones as he softly reciprocated up and down against your fingers. It had honestly been centuries since the two of you mated that you sometimes forget you were wearing a ring, the weight of it so familiar that it became a part of your body. 

She'd told you one day how in awe and warm she felt seeing the two of you wearing your rings. It indeed was a rare sight, and in her heart she understood what it meant. Even if she hadn't been familiar with mating bonds, Feyre knew what wedding yourself to someone entailed, and for the one of the first times in a while she had smiled so brightly, sharing a nod that only the three of you seemed to understand.

Funnily enough, Rhys told you that even before she noticed the rings and the affection, Feyre had read Azriel up and down as being utterly in love with you. The Azriel whisperer. Guess it wasn't hard to notice the pure adoration pouring out of his eyes at the mere thought of you.

"I thought I'd let you sleep in for a bit before I go, I know it's been a rough week for you baby."

"I love you." That was the first thing he uttered, overwhelmed with the feeling. He could hear, feel and see your thoughts—ones of your ceremony. You never did block him off from your side of the bond, and it had really only been silent if he was out on a critical mission. Azriel loved it. Every side of you. Whenever you got frustrated, sad or jumping with joy, he celebrated in the knowledge that you were his and his only. That you were healthy and alive through all your emotions. 

Now he basked into the memory of your mating ceremony centuries ago, his own heart following yours as it took him through every single thought and emotion that was felt proudly through your perspective. Cauldron, he felt so loved. Awakened and reborn every time he remembered that day.

I love you too, you uttered through the bond, giggling as he brought you up off the floor, setting you on top of him like you were a piece of paper. His hand on your waist comforted you like no other, the warmth so familiar. The shadows slithered all around you in an almost child-like nature, prodding at your cheeks and shoulders. They were always so delightful around you, pretty much accepting you as their own mistress ever since you and Az mated. You stayed there for a while, laying one side of your head on his chest while you closed your eyes and followed his heartbeat, enjoying the melody it followed. 

The burst of shared happiness in you grew until a smile lit up on your face and you looked up from your position to him, climbing up his body and cradling his head in your arms, squeezing gently as you squealed when he began tickling the sides of your waist. You felt Azriel nosing the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent that had been so beautifully intertwined with his over the years. 

You loved moments like this, when the two of you didn't have to speak out loud, all the feelings simply existing.

After a calming while, you begrudgingly had to get up from your comfort, remembering why you were up early in the first place. Though, you had only made one inch of movement before you felt Az's arms locking themselves behind your back, face attaching back to his rightly earned place on the supple skin of your chest. And in times like these, you truly thanked the mother for blessing you with a mate who rivaled you in clinginess. It was dangerous when Azriel got like this. Difficult was an understatement to how it felt trying to get out of his arms, knowing his Illyrian training and position in Rhysand's court fully translated to his strength and state of his (godly) physique. Even your family had commented on how soft Azriel was when it came to you, now used to the image of the male having his arms and wings—or any part of his body really—against yours at all times.

You gently tapped the top of his ruffled hair, resting your right cheek on it as you urged him to let you go, kissing his head in between. Azriel only mumbled in response—the sound too unintelligible for it to be distinct—and closed his eyes again, ready to enter the realm of dreams.

You laughed breathily, craning your neck up and softly pulling his head back while you dragged your hand down the back of his head, holding a loose grip on his hair. "If you let me go right now I'll be back in your arms sooner than you can blink, Az." He smiled, blinking slowly in thought.

"How ‘bout that, huh? You, me, and fresh bed sheets tonight?" You mumbled, bringing your face close to his until your lips just barely brushed each other.

Now that got him up and alert.

Not even a second later you had taken the chance to jump out of the bed, letting your fingers drag onto the skin of his arms and turning around to get dressed. Azriel shook his head, his breathy chuckle being the only indication of his acceptance of defeat. And acceptance of your offer, of course. 

Leisurely, (as if you didn't have a certain purple-eyed highlord waiting for your arrival) you shrugged your night slip off, leaving you bare all the way except for your sapphire colored lacy underwear, the one your mate loved so much. "Rhys asked me to help him sort out his fucking mounds of paperwork again."

"—honestly Az, he's been dragging me into his office ever since I did it that one time he kept dropping down cold out of exhaustion." You sighed out exasperatedly, crossing your arms as you dug through your giant closet to find an appropriate outfit.

"You know he's just trying to find a way to spend time with you right?" Azriel answered, clearly distracted by your undressing. So easy. It was so easy to hook this man right around your fingers. You could clearly feel his piercing gaze travel up and down your body, tracing all your curves, not leaving a single inch yearning for his attention. You loved it, relished it. It made you feel so beautiful and desired, and your prideful Illyrian never failed to mention it out loud.

"Yeah yeah..." You shook your head affectionately. You weren't actually annoyed at Rhysand and honestly thought this was really sweet. With his mind running around the whole bargain with the Cursebreaker and the dizzying problem of recovering Prythian after what happened for the last 50 years, you knew your long-time friend needed a break, and you'd help him in whatever form, even if it meant going through all of his tedious High Lord work. Plus, you wouldn't miss a single chance to goad him on about the shoe-throwing incident.

You most probably would get wine-tipsy by the end of it. He did have one hell of a drink collection.

Once you found the pieces you were looking for, you grabbed each one in a hanger, walking back over to face Azriel as you held both of them up, asking his opinion for which one to wear. 

He had his arms crossed in front of him and scrunched his eyebrows for one second, raising his eyebrows as he silently nodded his head towards the one on your right. Hm. This was his favorite because it displayed your... assets very well. Typical mate. Winking as a thanks, you put the unused set back, putting on your outfit for the day, all the while he watched with twinkling eyes.

"I mean, couldn't he ask me to go training or something?" Still, you continued your tangent, feeling playful in this happy morning.

"Rhys knows not to train with you because you're lazy." His words hadn't registered in your mind yet because Gods did you love this version of your mate so much. The crumpled bed sheets did absolutely no help covering him up, falling right below his hip while his muscles flexed. His chestnut hair spiked in all kinds of directions, remnants of your own hands playing with the soft strands. The constant darkness that surrounded him only drew your attention to his half-lidded eyes, so sultry without a try. The smug bastard was leaning his head back, both his hands behind them and he knew how much you loved it when he did that—bulging biceps and all. You could just claw at him right now. You were so thankful for his Illyrian DNA.. it was like they were born with divine statures.  

"What. Did you just say to me, Azriel?" You gasped in mock offense, a hand on your chest and all.

He had the audacity to show you his sorry smile, as if it would get him out of every sticky situation (It did. Every time. You were just too prideful to say it) "No, no, don't you smile at me like that."

You held your finger up, trying your best to ignore him. You scoffed. Lazy. Okay well in your defense, Rhysand just fucking loved to rile you up whenever the two of you were in the ring. It almost always made you annoyed to the point that you couldn't look at his face without feeling the urge to punch it. It wasn't like you couldn't take a friendly banter, but he did it for way too long and way too often. That's why you preferred to fight with Azriel or Cassian for that matter.

Seeing you hold your stance, he got up in all his glory, boxers being the only unfortunate thing covering him up. It was purely instinct to look him up and down, savoring the image while you bit your lip. Pride. That’s all he felt whenever you did that.

Azriel walked towards you with open arms, enveloping you in his large frame when he got close enough, one hand going right down its snug place on your ass while the other went behind your head.

He whispered in your ear lovingly, satiating your unserious upset. "I'm very sorry, my beautiful, intelligent, kind and sexy mate."

You could only melt right into his embrace, bringing your arms to coil around his neck as you smiled against it, pressing your lips onto his skin a couple times. His throaty voice right to your ears made you shiver in delight, goosebumps rising in its wake. You really couldn't get enough of this man, his voice, his smile, his scent and his everything. Feeling your love, Azriel responded by holding you tighter against his body, feeling every inch pressing against him.

"So sexy." He murmured, squeezing your ass.

A laugh bubbled deep from your chest and you leant back from your cozy spot, resting your palm against his chest as you smiled up at him, sighing and nodding in delight. "Knew we were mates for a reason."

He joined you a moment later, his laugh vibrating deep within his chest. This on its own could make any fae in Prythian drop down to their knees. Azriel didn't hesitate to kiss you, feeling a type of content that could only be fulfilled by your lips. 

You giggled as you felt his lips trek your jaw, down to your collarbone and trailing your shoulders, all the while letting his enormous wings cocoon the two of you. You were pleased to stay inside the little world you two built, letting the joy simmer between you and your mate until he released the hold he had on you with his wings. Without a single word being spoken, you let him trail you as you made your way towards the generous vanity on the corner of the bedroom, picking out the everyday items that were displayed. And of course, you had to use the perfume that Az got for your 100th anniversary, the bottle no longer the original as you had gone through so much with constant use. 

The male loved whenever you’d wear it,—which was almost everyday—the smell mixed with your own natural one driving him mad, further and further falling for you. And that was exactly his reaction after you gave your wrist a small spritz. Azriel melted deeper into you, if that was even possible with the lack of space between your bodies. 

“Think I’m gonna fly out to the city later. Cass is back from Windhaven.” He murmured into the nape of your neck once you were done, fully wrapping his arms around you and not missing the chance to slip them under your top to cup your breasts at it. You hummed in response, laying your head back and tilting to the side to look at your mate and giving him sweet kisses. 

“Mm, sounds fun. Tell him I said hi—Ooh, can you please bring back those chocolate chip cookies we had last week? They were soo good.” You closed your eyes in the memory, proceeding to pout at the Illyrian while reaching behind to lay one of your hands on the back of his neck.

Azriel hummed knowingly in response. Obviously he’d get them for you. You didn't even have to ask and he would’ve brought them back anyway. “Okay baby, anything you want.”

This man. Everything out of his mouth made you feel so madly in love.

While he swayed your bodies leisurely, you couldn’t help but grin up at him, teasing his behavior as you scratched his scalp to emphasize. “You’re so in love with me, Az.”

“‘Course I am, look at you. Beautiful. So beautiful.” He raised your left hand towards his face, emphasizing the word with a delicate kiss on your knuckles, lips lingering on the finger that adorned your ring. 

He’d do anything and everything for you. Fly to the edge of Prythian and back, steal the moon, burn the world, collect the stars and hang them up again to paint the sky. If you asked he would do it.

What else could you do in response than to lean up and kiss him in return, letting him twist your body to face him while his hands pull at your waistband, caressing in calming motions. “My mate is so sweet.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay okay, I should go now. Rhys will start nagging me about being glued to you and our bed as he always does.” You reluctantly separated yourself from his embrace, rubbing your hands down his arms in consolation for the loss of warmth.

“Been over 400 years now, sweetheart. I don’t think he’s going to stop anytime soon.” And Azriel meant this in an entirely endearing way. What happened under the mountain with that insane bitch Amarantha had truly changed Rhysand. He returned home different, haunted. The first time you heard him playfully tease yours and Azriel’s inseparable nature you had both been stunned, finally seeing the old friend—no, brother—that you knew so well show through the cracks. 

You shook your head in agreement, grinning as you took the chance to bump your noses together. “I’ll see you when I see you, hot stuff. Tell me everything tonight.”

“On our fresh bed sheets?” He smirked playfully, echoing your previous promise as a way to remind you.

“Mhm, exactly on our fresh bed sheets.” You laughed and winked at him, finally turning around and grabbing your trusty dagger by the drawer and sheathing it on your thigh. The weapon never went anywhere without you, even if you were only venturing to the Town House. It was something small to reign Azriel’s constant need of making sure you were safe and armed at all times. 

Your mate followed you out the door of your room, beelining towards the kitchen, no doubt to make himself a nice cup of coffee. 

As your passed him by the isle, you gave him one last goodbye kiss, throwing your head back in laughter at the (soft) slap on your ass on your way.

The minute you opened the door to his large office, Rhysand had paused, nose up and muttered with a teasing smile, “Gods, you reek of Illyrian.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhys.”

AAAH! guys im insanely back from writing hiatus after like a year. This is fucking surreal and also im so sorry to my friends that i abandoned.. yall… ily and my messages are open 

On another note, i am glad to start it all up again with an azriel piece. Despite loving his character since 2021, ive never written for him but i got inspired after reading a terribly sweet soldier boy fic lol.

I really hope that this story, in all aspects, is okay! I feel very rusty

masterlist

dividers credit @rookthornesartistry @chachachannah @dollywons

(also if you see this thank you GWEN for convincing me to post again)

[mooncleaver]

HELLO MY FRIENDS 😭 can't believe my ass but first fic of the year!! ugh after lurking around, i started to miss writing real bad and honestly am so happy to be back.

[mooncleaver]

Tender Mornings

you know it's a good day when the first sight you're greeted with is azriel sprawled out so beautifully on your bed.

ღ pairing: azriel x fem!reader 

ღ warnings: very loosely cannonical pls don't ask i live in my dreams, fluff after fluff in your face, they’re MATED AND MARRIED!! 🥰 touchy azriel

"Good morning, handsome."

Your voice murmurs into Azriel's ears early in the morning, waking him out of his peaceful slumber. It's a quiet day, and definitely not the kind of quiet you'd be alerted by, hackles raised and ears perked for signs of danger. No, this was peace. The birds are chirping and the distant sounds of city bustle has just begun its routine, and you can't help but stare at your mate, the absence of fine lines on his forehead creating one of the most endearing pictures in your mind.

Honestly, you don't know how you've managed to slip out of his iron grip a few hours ago. Even his shadows had been relatively calm. But you pieced it to him finally getting his well-deserved sleep after a grueling week of running around as spymaster for Night Court. He'd almost collapsed right on top of you on the couch the moment he got home at the dead of night, practically purring under you into a dreamless sleep while you ran your hands through his hair. You love it when he's just Azriel with you. Not the deadly shadowsinger with eyes that could kill, but the one snoring himself away in your shared bed, wings splayed out without a care in this world.

As he opens his eyes blearily, he can make out your soft fingers on his face, warm and comforting as your thumb strokes his cheek, squatting down on the floor beside his edge of the bed. It's an awfully good morning whenever you're there to wake him up, which isn't often considering how light of a sleeper Azriel is. It's one of the rare times that he had a fully undisturbed 8 hours of sleep, with no nightmares plaguing his visions. 

He smiles, seeing your face first thing. Gods, he would die over and over again if this was the sight he woke up to each time.

Noticing his expression, your grin widens as you lift your other hand from laying on the sheets, cradling his face and brushing your nose against his, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mate, all the while feeling the bond pulsate like a well-known bliss inside your chest. The golden band on your left ring finger glints wonderfully in the morning sun, the rays illuminating it as if it were a halo wrapped around your skin. The ring is a dainty but simple thing, its surface raised with signature Night Court swirls and stars, the pattern a twin to the bargain marks painting your sternum—the one that you made with Azriel the day of your ceremony with promises to love and protect, even beyond death.

It was an unusual thing to have around in Pythian, considering it was a human tradition. 

You and Azriel picked up the custom after learning it from a mission the two of you went to a long time ago in the human lands. Of course, it wasn't like either of you needed conventional items to show your relationship, knowing the Mother had already blessed you with one of magic, something so deeply sacred that transcended both words and worlds. Still, you thought that the piece of gold represented a beautiful message. It told the story of your battles and triumphs, the countless suffering and victories that got you to where you were, being able to hold the hand of your fated mate, rings clinking and echoing the bells that rung in your mating ceremony. No distance could ever separate you. And most of all, it reminded you every waking day of the way Azriel accepted you as his, as someone who loved him through thick and thin, someone who he would kill and die for.

You were always a victim of sentiment, and neither you nor Azriel could deny the pride the two of you felt seeing each other's rings—the way it felt like a claim over each other, physical proof of your love beyond words.

When Feyre met the Inner Circle for the first time, she became an addition to the people who appreciated the symbol. You were confused at first, wondering why the Cursebreaker was staring at you so deeply. Then you saw the way her eyes never wavered from your hand, the one that was brushing against Azriel's scarred ones as he softly reciprocated up and down against your fingers. It had honestly been centuries since the two of you mated that you sometimes forget you were wearing a ring, the weight of it so familiar that it became a part of your body. 

She'd told you one day how in awe and warm she felt seeing the two of you wearing your rings. It indeed was a rare sight, and in her heart she understood what it meant. Even if she hadn't been familiar with mating bonds, Feyre knew what wedding yourself to someone entailed, and for the one of the first times in a while she had smiled so brightly, sharing a nod that only the three of you seemed to understand.

Funnily enough, Rhys told you that even before she noticed the rings and the affection, Feyre had read Azriel up and down as being utterly in love with you. The Azriel whisperer. Guess it wasn't hard to notice the pure adoration pouring out of his eyes at the mere thought of you.

"I thought I'd let you sleep in for a bit before I go, I know it's been a rough week for you baby."

"I love you." That was the first thing he uttered, overwhelmed with the feeling. He could hear, feel and see your thoughts—ones of your ceremony. You never did block him off from your side of the bond, and it had really only been silent if he was out on a critical mission. Azriel loved it. Every side of you. Whenever you got frustrated, sad or jumping with joy, he celebrated in the knowledge that you were his and his only. That you were healthy and alive through all your emotions. 

Now he basked into the memory of your mating ceremony centuries ago, his own heart following yours as it took him through every single thought and emotion that was felt proudly through your perspective. Cauldron, he felt so loved. Awakened and reborn every time he remembered that day.

I love you too, you uttered through the bond, giggling as he brought you up off the floor, setting you on top of him like you were a piece of paper. His hand on your waist comforted you like no other, the warmth so familiar. The shadows slithered all around you in an almost child-like nature, prodding at your cheeks and shoulders. They were always so delightful around you, pretty much accepting you as their own mistress ever since you and Az mated. You stayed there for a while, laying one side of your head on his chest while you closed your eyes and followed his heartbeat, enjoying the melody it followed. 

The burst of shared happiness in you grew until a smile lit up on your face and you looked up from your position to him, climbing up his body and cradling his head in your arms, squeezing gently as you squealed when he began tickling the sides of your waist. You felt Azriel nosing the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent that had been so beautifully intertwined with his over the years. 

You loved moments like this, when the two of you didn't have to speak out loud, all the feelings simply existing.

After a calming while, you begrudgingly had to get up from your comfort, remembering why you were up early in the first place. Though, you had only made one inch of movement before you felt Az's arms locking themselves behind your back, face attaching back to his rightly earned place on the supple skin of your chest. And in times like these, you truly thanked the mother for blessing you with a mate who rivaled you in clinginess. It was dangerous when Azriel got like this. Difficult was an understatement to how it felt trying to get out of his arms, knowing his Illyrian training and position in Rhysand's court fully translated to his strength and state of his (godly) physique. Even your family had commented on how soft Azriel was when it came to you, now used to the image of the male having his arms and wings—or any part of his body really—against yours at all times.

You gently tapped the top of his ruffled hair, resting your right cheek on it as you urged him to let you go, kissing his head in between. Azriel only mumbled in response—the sound too unintelligible for it to be distinct—and closed his eyes again, ready to enter the realm of dreams.

You laughed breathily, craning your neck up and softly pulling his head back while you dragged your hand down the back of his head, holding a loose grip on his hair. "If you let me go right now I'll be back in your arms sooner than you can blink, Az." He smiled, blinking slowly in thought.

"How ‘bout that, huh? You, me, and fresh bed sheets tonight?" You mumbled, bringing your face close to his until your lips just barely brushed each other.

Now that got him up and alert.

Not even a second later you had taken the chance to jump out of the bed, letting your fingers drag onto the skin of his arms and turning around to get dressed. Azriel shook his head, his breathy chuckle being the only indication of his acceptance of defeat. And acceptance of your offer, of course. 

Leisurely, (as if you didn't have a certain purple-eyed highlord waiting for your arrival) you shrugged your night slip off, leaving you bare all the way except for your sapphire colored lacy underwear, the one your mate loved so much. "Rhys asked me to help him sort out his fucking mounds of paperwork again."

"—honestly Az, he's been dragging me into his office ever since I did it that one time he kept dropping down cold out of exhaustion." You sighed out exasperatedly, crossing your arms as you dug through your giant closet to find an appropriate outfit.

"You know he's just trying to find a way to spend time with you right?" Azriel answered, clearly distracted by your undressing. So easy. It was so easy to hook this man right around your fingers. You could clearly feel his piercing gaze travel up and down your body, tracing all your curves, not leaving a single inch yearning for his attention. You loved it, relished it. It made you feel so beautiful and desired, and your prideful Illyrian never failed to mention it out loud.

"Yeah yeah..." You shook your head affectionately. You weren't actually annoyed at Rhysand and honestly thought this was really sweet. With his mind running around the whole bargain with the Cursebreaker and the dizzying problem of recovering Prythian after what happened for the last 50 years, you knew your long-time friend needed a break, and you'd help him in whatever form, even if it meant going through all of his tedious High Lord work. Plus, you wouldn't miss a single chance to goad him on about the shoe-throwing incident.

You most probably would get wine-tipsy by the end of it. He did have one hell of a drink collection.

Once you found the pieces you were looking for, you grabbed each one in a hanger, walking back over to face Azriel as you held both of them up, asking his opinion for which one to wear. 

He had his arms crossed in front of him and scrunched his eyebrows for one second, raising his eyebrows as he silently nodded his head towards the one on your right. Hm. This was his favorite because it displayed your... assets very well. Typical mate. Winking as a thanks, you put the unused set back, putting on your outfit for the day, all the while he watched with twinkling eyes.

"I mean, couldn't he ask me to go training or something?" Still, you continued your tangent, feeling playful in this happy morning.

"Rhys knows not to train with you because you're lazy." His words hadn't registered in your mind yet because Gods did you love this version of your mate so much. The crumpled bed sheets did absolutely no help covering him up, falling right below his hip while his muscles flexed. His chestnut hair spiked in all kinds of directions, remnants of your own hands playing with the soft strands. The constant darkness that surrounded him only drew your attention to his half-lidded eyes, so sultry without a try. The smug bastard was leaning his head back, both his hands behind them and he knew how much you loved it when he did that—bulging biceps and all. You could just claw at him right now. You were so thankful for his Illyrian DNA.. it was like they were born with divine statures.  

"What. Did you just say to me, Azriel?" You gasped in mock offense, a hand on your chest and all.

He had the audacity to show you his sorry smile, as if it would get him out of every sticky situation (It did. Every time. You were just too prideful to say it) "No, no, don't you smile at me like that."

You held your finger up, trying your best to ignore him. You scoffed. Lazy. Okay well in your defense, Rhysand just fucking loved to rile you up whenever the two of you were in the ring. It almost always made you annoyed to the point that you couldn't look at his face without feeling the urge to punch it. It wasn't like you couldn't take a friendly banter, but he did it for way too long and way too often. That's why you preferred to fight with Azriel or Cassian for that matter.

Seeing you hold your stance, he got up in all his glory, boxers being the only unfortunate thing covering him up. It was purely instinct to look him up and down, savoring the image while you bit your lip. Pride. That’s all he felt whenever you did that.

Azriel walked towards you with open arms, enveloping you in his large frame when he got close enough, one hand going right down its snug place on your ass while the other went behind your head.

He whispered in your ear lovingly, satiating your unserious upset. "I'm very sorry, my beautiful, intelligent, kind and sexy mate."

You could only melt right into his embrace, bringing your arms to coil around his neck as you smiled against it, pressing your lips onto his skin a couple times. His throaty voice right to your ears made you shiver in delight, goosebumps rising in its wake. You really couldn't get enough of this man, his voice, his smile, his scent and his everything. Feeling your love, Azriel responded by holding you tighter against his body, feeling every inch pressing against him.

"So sexy." He murmured, squeezing your ass.

A laugh bubbled deep from your chest and you leant back from your cozy spot, resting your palm against his chest as you smiled up at him, sighing and nodding in delight. "Knew we were mates for a reason."

He joined you a moment later, his laugh vibrating deep within his chest. This on its own could make any fae in Prythian drop down to their knees. Azriel didn't hesitate to kiss you, feeling a type of content that could only be fulfilled by your lips. 

You giggled as you felt his lips trek your jaw, down to your collarbone and trailing your shoulders, all the while letting his enormous wings cocoon the two of you. You were pleased to stay inside the little world you two built, letting the joy simmer between you and your mate until he released the hold he had on you with his wings. Without a single word being spoken, you let him trail you as you made your way towards the generous vanity on the corner of the bedroom, picking out the everyday items that were displayed. And of course, you had to use the perfume that Az got for your 100th anniversary, the bottle no longer the original as you had gone through so much with constant use. 

The male loved whenever you’d wear it,—which was almost everyday—the smell mixed with your own natural one driving him mad, further and further falling for you. And that was exactly his reaction after you gave your wrist a small spritz. Azriel melted deeper into you, if that was even possible with the lack of space between your bodies. 

“Think I’m gonna fly out to the city later. Cass is back from Windhaven.” He murmured into the nape of your neck once you were done, fully wrapping his arms around you and not missing the chance to slip them under your top to cup your breasts at it. You hummed in response, laying your head back and tilting to the side to look at your mate and giving him sweet kisses. 

“Mm, sounds fun. Tell him I said hi—Ooh, can you please bring back those chocolate chip cookies we had last week? They were soo good.” You closed your eyes in the memory, proceeding to pout at the Illyrian while reaching behind to lay one of your hands on the back of his neck.

Azriel hummed knowingly in response. Obviously he’d get them for you. You didn't even have to ask and he would’ve brought them back anyway. “Okay baby, anything you want.”

This man. Everything out of his mouth made you feel so madly in love.

While he swayed your bodies leisurely, you couldn’t help but grin up at him, teasing his behavior as you scratched his scalp to emphasize. “You’re so in love with me, Az.”

“‘Course I am, look at you. Beautiful. So beautiful.” He raised your left hand towards his face, emphasizing the word with a delicate kiss on your knuckles, lips lingering on the finger that adorned your ring. 

He’d do anything and everything for you. Fly to the edge of Prythian and back, steal the moon, burn the world, collect the stars and hang them up again to paint the sky. If you asked he would do it.

What else could you do in response than to lean up and kiss him in return, letting him twist your body to face him while his hands pull at your waistband, caressing in calming motions. “My mate is so sweet.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay okay, I should go now. Rhys will start nagging me about being glued to you and our bed as he always does.” You reluctantly separated yourself from his embrace, rubbing your hands down his arms in consolation for the loss of warmth.

“Been over 400 years now, sweetheart. I don’t think he’s going to stop anytime soon.” And Azriel meant this in an entirely endearing way. What happened under the mountain with that insane bitch Amarantha had truly changed Rhysand. He returned home different, haunted. The first time you heard him playfully tease yours and Azriel’s inseparable nature you had both been stunned, finally seeing the old friend—no, brother—that you knew so well show through the cracks. 

You shook your head in agreement, grinning as you took the chance to bump your noses together. “I’ll see you when I see you, hot stuff. Tell me everything tonight.”

“On our fresh bed sheets?” He smirked playfully, echoing your previous promise as a way to remind you.

“Mhm, exactly on our fresh bed sheets.” You laughed and winked at him, finally turning around and grabbing your trusty dagger by the drawer and sheathing it on your thigh. The weapon never went anywhere without you, even if you were only venturing to the Town House. It was something small to reign Azriel’s constant need of making sure you were safe and armed at all times. 

Your mate followed you out the door of your room, beelining towards the kitchen, no doubt to make himself a nice cup of coffee. 

As your passed him by the isle, you gave him one last goodbye kiss, throwing your head back in laughter at the (soft) slap on your ass on your way.

The minute you opened the door to his large office, Rhysand had paused, nose up and muttered with a teasing smile, “Gods, you reek of Illyrian.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhys.”

AAAH! guys im insanely back from writing hiatus after like a year. This is fucking surreal and also im so sorry to my friends that i abandoned.. yall… ily and my messages are open 

On another note, i am glad to start it all up again with an azriel piece. Despite loving his character since 2021, ive never written for him but i got inspired after reading a terribly sweet soldier boy fic lol.

I really hope that this story, in all aspects, is okay! I feel very rusty

masterlist

dividers credit @rookthornesartistry @chachachannah @dollywons

(also if you see this thank you GWEN for convincing me to post again)

[mooncleaver]

girl what you expect me to live after reading something like this? amazing. absolutely amazing.

have read this fic over and over again through the course of april and i will never forget the feeling of discovering this story for the first time. i'm so impressed and in LOVE with the characterization, the plot and the writing. basically everything i think. your azriel—and not just in this fic—is so beautiful and full of depth, and he flourishes with so much empathy, compassion and love, i felt like this was so vulnerable, especially with the setting being him experiencing a nightmare of his past.

Azriel’s eyes softened, still taking you in. He squeezed your hand tenderly, prompting you to look at him once more. The amount of emotion he was displaying was a testament to how much his nightmare caught him off guard, how vulnerable it left him. “What was it that you wanted?” he urged you on gently. 

the fact is this is where i really fell in love with this man. every re-read this is a huuuge highlight for me and one of my favorite parts, because god why does he have to be so thoughtful! 😭 i can't stress how much i adore that you gave him as well as the reader time to formulate their thoughts and responses, it really makes a reader delve deeper into the character's emotions. he's so gentle and kind and understanding, even after having woken up from that shit hole. you always find a way to make sure his personality shines beneath every action, trivial or not, and that is so admirable. i love for that consistency. and the fucking cherry on top is the dialogue after these pauses HIT ASF. like hard on punch atomic bomb level right on the heart.

If there was anything you could do to ease that pain, you’d give anything, sell anything, lose everything

literally like what the fuck is this 😭 had me screaming at the top of my lungs at 10am girl

the dynamics! between him and the reader. ugh what i'd do to have something like that. even with the romantic tension there's that beautiful casualness in their relationship and lord do i enjoy reading that. i LOVEE how they are so comfortable with physical affection, and the way the flow of this story supports that so much is insane to me. like lets take a moment and talk about that. every fic has a vibe to it and this is the perfect brew of slow, feeling and love. it's like you're making us bask in all the longing and affection between the characters. LITERATURE MAMA!

also lets go back to az's characterization that has me going apeshit because he's so tender. and not just in the way he acts and treats the reader. THE DIALOGUE YOU GIVE HIM makes me fall to my knees every. damn. time. hes so precious and amazing and wow and literally is the love of my life. the subtle humor and jokes between them too! im a slut for this trope; i love the fact that they're able to cheer each other up in so many different forms, that's such a testament to how they are absolutely made for each other.

Mischief glinted in his eyes. “Of course you do. What with you dreaming about me and whatnot.” ; “I guess this makes you my dream girl, huh?” he teased.

just a few that i thought were really really nice. and despite whatever they're talking about changing throughout the fic, you always retain that softness in azriel, whether through tone or through his actions. like the NUANCES and the little gestures that he makes. kill me now. then when he felt the mating bond click for him oouuu yeah that shit hitss

Once again, you felt the love for him inside you like a sentient creature. I love him I love him I love him. 

To your eternal relief and delight, to the actualization of your very dreams, you felt the mantra being sung back to you.

I love you too. 

OOOOH MY GOD SERVE CUNTTT 😩 THIS IS WHAT IM SAYING WHEN I SAY YOU KNOW HOW TO TOP SHIT OFF AND GAG PEOPLE!! the fact that he finally replies ooo it scratches that part of my brain like come on fill circle, let's go

all in all this was such an amazing story with amazing writing and still to this day i haven't stopped coming back! it's a very nice palate cleanser and really making me fall back in love with azriel here. i think there's so much more to say but for now this is all the brainrot that i've stored in the crevices of my mind locked up. 10/10 would bang.

Dreams and Deliverance

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Synopsis: Azriel has a nightmare that the reader sees through the bond. She goes to wake him up and comfort him. They talk through the night. The bond snaps for him in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re being suffocated in a darkness that has no beginning or end. The darkness closes in on you, detonating claustrophobia inside your own body. You scream, the voice desperate, far away, and not entirely yours. A cold sense of abandonment sparks deep in your gut. They left me in here. Worse than the claustrophobia and the darkness is the gradually growing heat in your hands, like holding slowly igniting coals in your palms—

Fire.

They’re on fire.

The screaming becomes raw, haggard, pleading. The heat insufferable—this is hell. You must be in hell—

You wake with a jolt. A nightmare. You rub your clammy palms on your bed sheets, ridding them of the lingering phantom sensation. Your rapid breathing is shallow, prompting you to force deep inhales into your stomach to settle your racing heart. A nightmare like that… the familiar narrative behind it, that… borrowed abandonment you tasted, it had to be—the bond.  

Not a nightmare, you think. A memory. 

Azriel. Oh, Azriel. 

You jump out of your bed before you could convince yourself not to, taking your faelight in hand to light the way. 

The walk to his room cleared your head gradually, preparing you for the task ahead. Azriel was your mate, though he didn’t know that yet. The bond had snapped for you months ago, but not for him, so you’ve been keeping your love for him buried deep inside, waiting—dreaming—for the fateful day you hoped to witness the same wonder in his eyes when he looked at you that you held for him.

Reaching the door to his bedroom, you hesitated for a second. Knocking was probably not a wise call, with it potentially startling him in an already reactive state. You gently turned the doorknob with your free hand. There you found Azriel tossing in his bed, breathing ragged, his shadows churning in abrupt motions around him. You closed the door behind you and gently padded over to where he lay. 

Your heart ached at the sight of him distressed in his sleep. He was covered in a sweaty sheen that reflected in the faelight, eyebrows furrowed together. His head turned from side to side on his pillow as he fought the memories in his slumber. His bed was huge to support his wings, prompting you to sit on the edge of it to reach him. You raised your hand, willing away the nerves, and placed it on his shoulder. “Azriel,” you whispered. 

He didn’t answer, still moving in distress. You shifted closer to him, bringing one leg to fully bend beneath you. “Azriel,” you said a little louder, shaking his shoulder.

Azriel woke with a start, gasping at the abrupt awakening. His eyes snapped to yours, wide in his unguarded state. He continued to look at you in confusion, taking shaky breaths in and out. You withdrew your hand from his shoulder as he gathered himself.

“I… sorry, did I wake you?” His voice was gruff with sleep, even deeper than the usual baritone timbre.

“No, you didn’t, don’t worry,” you said quickly, shaking your head. 

He hauled himself upright into a sitting position, leaning against his headboard. The sheets fell as he did, pooling on his naked lower stomach. You didn’t dare avert your gaze from his eyes. He leaned his head back, bringing a hand up and dragging it down his face, still visibly shaken from his nightmare. “Sorry,” he said again. Your heart broke.

“Don’t be sorry, darling—” you cringed at the term of endearment slipping out before you could stop it. You shook your head again in emphasis. “You didn’t wake me.” 

He lowered his hands, turning to face you. His beautiful face still held pain from his nightmare—his memory —and you wanted nothing more than to relieve his anguish. If there was anything you could do to ease that pain, you’d give anything, sell anything, lose everything—

You had to swallow down the thought, shivering at the territorial instinct that came with the bond. Azriel’s breathing finally returned to normal, and the lost look in his eyes calmed. You wanted so badly to reach for him, you couldn’t help it. You gingerly traced your index finger across the back of his left hand where it rested between the two of you on the bed. He looked down to watch you touch him, and thankfully didn’t appear uneasy about it. You allowed yourself to grasp his hand at that permission, your right palm caressing the back of his left hand. He still watched. Then he turned his hand around so you could properly hold it, his hand swallowing yours up entirely with the sheer size of it. Your heart soared at the gesture, a feeling of deep belonging filling your stomach. If only he knew. 

“You okay, Az?” your voice was small. He met your gaze looking restless, haunted. 

“I’m… yeah, I’m okay now.” His shoulders sagged a bit. “Thank you for pulling me out.”

“Of course.”

His brows furrowed slightly once more, the crease still between them from his nightmare. “How’d you know I was having a nightmare?” 

Your cheeks heated. “I… I don’t know.” He continued to watch you, and you suddenly grew conscious of your current state. Hair down, nightgown exposing your thighs where you sat on his bed. You swallowed. “I actually, um, had a nightmare too. I came here because… I was afraid, and I wanted…” you trailed off, averting your gaze. Technically not a lie.

Azriel’s eyes softened, still taking you in. He squeezed your hand tenderly, prompting you to look at him once more. The amount of emotion he was displaying was a testament to how much his nightmare caught him off guard, how vulnerable it left him. “What was it that you wanted?” he urged you on gently. 

Perhaps you could reciprocate the vulnerability he was showcasing given all that transpired to bring the two of you to this moment. “Nothing, I just—I needed…” I needed to make sure you were safe. “I needed—”

“It’s okay,” he spoke gently, the gruffness in his voice subduing. He moved over on his bed, making room for you. He gave you a soft smile, though still not quite relaxed. You moved to sit fully on the bed, though you didn’t go under the covers. There was unfinished business at hand. 

You sat adjacent to him over the covers, hand still in his. You brought your joined hands into your lap and took a deep breath. “Would you… do you want to talk about yours?”

He blinked. “Wanna talk about yours?” he countered. 

You squeezed his hand in warning. He squeezed back. “Tell me if you need. If you want.” You let the honest love you felt for him show on your face, knowing he needed to see it more than you needed to hide it. 

While you hated the circumstances that prompted it, you also cherished the vulnerability he let show in his eyes at your presence, at your offer. His smile faded as he considered the opening. To your surprise, he took a deep breath. “My nightmare—it was a memory; I was back in my cell. My hands… they were on fire again.” He swallowed, studying your reaction. You just nodded in encouragement. “I was trapped, I couldn’t stop it, and the pain…” his eyes closed briefly at the thought of it, and he shuddered. You shifted closer to him, brought your free hand up to his face, and gently ran your thumb down the crease between his brows. His eyes remained closed, though he took a deep breath at the sensation, grounding himself. 

When he opened his eyes once more, he found yours brimmed with tears. “Oh, no (Y/N), please don’t cry. I’m sorry,” he said. You pulled your hands from him to wipe your eyes with the back of your hands.

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry,” you said, sniffling away the tears. He gently grasped both your wrists and pulled them away from your eyes. 

“Why are you crying, Angel?” his eyes were filled with concern.

“Because.” You gathered yourself. “I hate that you felt that pain.” 

His eyes softened again. “It’s okay, I’m good now. You pulled me out, remember?” he gently nudged your chin up with his bent index. You took a deep breath, quelling the tears. You met his gaze and nodded with a soft smile. “Now you tell me about yours.”

Shit. “Well,” you started. He waited with that steady patience of his. “I actually had a nightmare that, um, that you were hurt.” 

Azriel blinked, dumbfounded. “Me?”

You nodded shyly. Perhaps presenting the truth this way made it a white lie. “I just wanted to come make sure you were okay.” Your cheeks burned at the admission, but you couldn’t help it, wanting to let your affection reach out to him like a blanket. 

“And what’s the verdict?”

You gave him a shrug. “You’ve seen better days.” 

Azriel let out a genuine, rich laugh, head falling back onto the headboard. You felt your shoulders sag in relief at the sound, making you smile. 

When he raised his head once more to look at you, you felt contentment fall upon the two of you. His eyes were bright, a beautiful smile gracing his face, smoothing out the previous tension. 

His shadows began gently coiling themselves around your wrists, snaking their way up your arms. They had a habit of doing this since the bond snapped in place for you, making you smile at the thought, like a secret you shared with the shadows beyond Azriel’s awareness.

When you looked up once more, Azriel was watching you, something like fondness in his eyes as he took in the sight. “They like you.”

“I like them,” you supplemented. 

He opened his mouth but closed it before he said what he wanted to say. 

“What?” you asked.

“You—you’re a good friend, (Y/N). I appreciate—” he gestured vaguely between the two of you. “I appreciate your… thank you for everything.” His cheeks were tinted pink in the dim faelight, his eyes averted from your gaze. He ducked his head at his admission, making you smile deeper at the rare sight of flustered Azriel.  

You took his hand in yours once more and brought it up to kiss it, conveying what you couldn’t possibly say to him with words. He watched as you did, that warm look still in his hazel eyes. 

“Have you always been so touchy?” he teased. You gave a pointed look to where he was tracing circles into the back of your hand. He chuckled.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked more seriously. 

He squeezed your hand. “No.” 

“Aw,” you cooed, despite the heat in your cheeks. “Who knew the big bad spymaster could be such a softie.” 

Azriel groaned, but his smile didn’t falter. “If you tell anyone about this—”

“Not even Cassian?”

“Especially not Cassian.”

You laughed again, aware that he watched as you did. 

“Don’t worry, Az. I won’t tell the others. Maybe I like having you like this all to myself.” 

Mischief glinted in his eyes. “Of course you do. What with you dreaming about me and whatnot.” 

You laughed again, blushing like mad. “Azriel.”

“Hmm…” he said in pretend concern. “Whatever happened to ‘darling?’” 

Your eyes widened in shock, and you ducked your head sheepishly to hide your fluster. “It… just slipped out.” 

When you looked back up, his mischief was replaced with that affectionate look that you’d crawl for. “I’m just teasing, Angel,” he said. You continued to look at him from beneath your lashes, out of words to say. He swallowed and continued. “Are you just going to stare at me all night, or are we going to try to get some rest?” 

You rolled your eyes but took the invitation. You got off the bed and he lifted the covers for you. As you made your way under them, you didn’t miss his eyes roaming across your exposed legs. He lowered himself into the bed as well. You both faced each other, the faelight dimming as it floated in the room. “Where’d your touchy tendencies go?” he said, making you smile again. 

“Az, if you need me to spoon you, just say so.”

He chuckled but opened his arms. You shifted slightly up on the bed to let yourself envelope him, arms wrapping around his neck tightly, holding his head to your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist. You felt such tangible happiness that you had to swallow to keep yourself from getting emotional. I love him I love him I love him. You twisted your body to lay more flatly on the bed, prompting him to turn on his stomach. He kept his hips and legs off yours to mind his weight on your frame. His head still rested on your chest, arms still wrapped around your waist beneath you, and your arms held him steadfastly around his neck. His wings settled on either side of him around the two of you.

You could get drunk off the emotion you felt, and it would be the warmest, most breathtaking intoxication you’ll ever feel. You felt yourself getting lulled to sleep, the weight of him on your chest overwhelming you with love. His shadows gently caressed your hair, making it harder to stay awake. “Az,” you mumbled, half asleep.

“Yes, Angel.”

“You’re my best friend.”

You felt him smile on your chest, felt his eyes crinkle and his cheek shift upwards. “You’re mine, too.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, stroking it back in a gentle, repeated motion. You felt him shiver. He shifted slightly to place a kiss on your shoulder. And with that, you fell into the deepest slumber, lulled by the beat of his heart against your stomach, pulsing in time with the bond buried in your chest where his head rested. 

~

Sunlight filtered through the window, rousing Azriel from his sleep. It was the deepest, most restful sleep he’s had in years. How you knew he was having a nightmare, he still didn’t know, though the fact that you had one too, the fact that you came to him for comfort and safety—that made his chest ache with pride, and something else. Little did you know how safe you made him feel. 

Azriel sat up, gently pulling your arms off his shoulders. You spent the entire night holding him to your chest, squeezing the broken bits of his soul back together. It had felt like he was anchored right to your heart. How you took his weight on your smaller frame, he also didn’t understand, but he let himself be selfish. He shifted his wings up to block your face from the sun, admiring the softness in your face as you rested. Just like the night before, his shadows gently wove themselves around your hands, your hair. You’re my best friend, you’d said to him. He closed his eyes and replayed that sound over and over in his mind. 

If only you knew how much more he felt. He’d fallen asleep to the rhythmic beat of your heart against his ear. He could still hear it, even now. Pulsing. He put his hand over his own chest and found his heartbeat matching that phantom pulse he heard. Felt. Suddenly, his shadows began weaving their way up from your hair, up an invisible string. Azriel furrowed his brows at the sight, confused. He felt that pulsing grow stronger, still watching his shadows move up. From your chest to his. That pulsing… it wasn’t just the memory he heard, it also wasn’t your current heartbeat, it was—

His shadows finally reached his chest, made their way up around his neck, and whispered.

Mate 

Mate

Mate

Azriel’s eyes widened in shock. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt a snap, deep in his ribs. His heartbeat started racing, only heightening the pulsing he felt in… in the bond.  

He could hardly breathe.

She’s my mate.

You woke then, bringing your hand to your chest, rubbing at the same spot he felt on his end of the bond. Your brows furrowed slightly in worry. “Azriel? What’s the matter?”

He realized you sensed his shock down the bond. Sensed it, and… wasn’t surprised to be receiving it. She knows.

He continued to gape at you, prompting your eyes to widen and to haul yourself up to assess the situation. 

“Az, what is it?”  

Your eyes trailed to his hand on his chest, and you gasped lightly. 

He feels it, you thought. Oh my god. 

“You’re… are you… you’re my mate,” he breathed. You nodded tentatively, unsure if he was happy to hear that confirmation or not. “Is that how you knew?” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Knew what?” 

“About the nightmare,” he said.

You bit your lip nervously, watching him as he studied you. You nodded in confirmation. “I… your dreams, sometimes they… seep into mine. Through the bond.” 

He looked at your hands then, concern replacing the confusion. “Did—did I hurt you?”

“What?”

“In the dream. Were you hurt?” his worry was also seeping through the bond, though you didn’t tell him that.

“No,” you lied, not wanting him to feel guilty. He gently took your hands and inspected them, as if he would find evidence of pain there. You allowed him to see, turning them over, and when he was sure there were no signs of hurt, he met your gaze again. 

“I guess this makes you my dream girl, huh?” he teased. You felt relief at the humour easing the tension, though you rolled your eyes as you huffed a laugh.

“Punny,” was all you could say.

His stare turned serious again. “You knew,” he said. You nodded once again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. You felt a kernel of hurt down the bond, giving you the courage to speak up.

“I wanted to wait for you, Az.”

You felt relief replacing the hurt, making you briefly close your eyes at the comfortable feeling. He still watched you. “Are you… okay with this?” he asked tentatively. 

“Okay with what?”

“With being mated… to me.” 

“Are you okay with it?” you countered. 

“Yes,” he breathed. That word you’ve been waiting months to hear. You closed your eyes once more and opened up the dam deep inside that you kept tightly sealed, and let the love absolutely pour out of you, and into him.

Azriel gasped at the feeling, his own eyes fluttering shut. When they opened again, there was silver lining them. The love you sent down the bond was making its way back into you, like two waves crashing into each other. You shuddered at the overwhelming love, feeling like you might explode if you didn’t release the emotion. 

You got up on your knees to get closer to him. He watched as you did, wonder in his eyes as he took you in, completely letting his guard down. You held his face in your hands, and he closed his eyes at the sensation. You moved closer to him and threw your arms around his neck. He immediately wrapped his arms around you once more. Like how the two of you held each other through the night; the same but different. Once again, you felt the love for him inside you like a sentient creature. I love him I love him I love him. 

To your eternal relief and delight, to the actualization of your very dreams, you felt the mantra being sung back to you.

I love you too. 

~

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek

[mooncleaver]

coming out of the woodworks to realize they've changed smth about the links 😭 biggest pet peeve is when the post doesn't pop up in-app, but in a browser. off to fix my masterlist again

[mooncleaver]

YOU ARE THE LOVE OF MY LIFEE 🥹💞

every fic writer has that one person who comments on every chapter and is the reason they write

[mooncleaver]

aaah! so sweet and so true to his character. couldn't imagine more of a protective and loving father than az 🥰

Azriel Week Day 6: Theories and Headcannons

"AZRIEL AS A DAD"

I've used 1+1=4 as a reference for these but it's definitely not necessary to read beforehand

Azriel is a doting father of twins, a boy and a girl. Annalise and Mikhail both look exactly like their dad which he proudly gloats about, especially to rile you up

Mikhail has your eyes but that's about it. The rest of him is completely Azriel from his dark hair to his sharp features

His children inherit their father's Shadowsinging abilities which absolutely terrified him at first. He remembers how he had first felt when his shadows had come to him. The poor baby had been so scared, thinking that he had gone crazy and started imagining things

It takes a talking to from Rhys to drive some sense into him. He reminds Azriel that his children do not have the same childhood or father as him my darling:( They have their father by their side to aid them and guide them

From that moment on Azriel takes the responsibility of teaching the two everything about Shadowsingers, their abilities and how to communicate and accept their shadows. While he would certainly train them on the basics and more if they asked, he reminds them again and again that just because they inherited his abilities does not mean they have to follow his footsteps and become spies, and are free to become whatever they want

Azriel is definitely a girl dad. He loves both his children equally and unconditionally (as he reminds them a thousand times a day) But his son is for some reason closer to his mother and the opposite for their daughter

Definitely spoils them rotten. Anything they want from another court or the continent, he goes to get them. His mate admonishes him for it, but he wants his children to have the best of everything there is to offer, wants them to have a childhood that he never got

The cool dad. And come to think of it, the cool uncle as well. Cassian definitely thinks it's him but it's a known secret that all the children adore Azriel. Nyx and Nessian's children, along with his own, come to him when they mess up knowing Uncle Azriel will help them deal with it without any reprimanding.

Nessian and Feysand's daughter along with Anna all come to him with gossips from their schools or other courts. Half of the time Azriel already knows what their talking about( bc of course he does he's the spymaster) but pretends for their sake

The rare times he doesn't know, he spends hours listening to the juicy details of other courts his little girls provide (he's so proud of them for being such good spies, even if unofficially)

Veryyyy protective. And I mean very protective. And not just for Anna. His mate insists of enrolling his son in some school in Velaris, insisting that he must focus on his studies along with training. Even though it is a renowned, respected place Azriel does a background check on all the staff and teachers, ensures it is safe from all threats and then begrudgingly agrees. Any friends that Mikhail makes are vetted thoroughly by him along with their families. He just loves his son so much. He's a piece of Azriel’s heart and he just wants to make sure that he's happy and safe

And don't even get me started on Anna. If Azriel had his way, no boy would ever get even 10 feet close to her. But his mate constantly reminds him that he needs to let her live a little. Not that he's overly possessive or controlling. He vowed the day his children were born that be would be nothing like the Illyrian bastards who tortured their children for their pride. His daughter was free to do whatever she wished and had complete control of her life. He just doesn't think any boy would ever be good enough for her. And if Azriel, the shadowinger and spymaster, torture extraordinaire, wasn't enough Anna also has two doting, protective uncles who are just as bad as Azriel. Good luck to any boy who thinks of asking her out

His children love him just as much as he does them, if not more. While he does start working a lot less when his children are born(not wanting to miss any milestone of theirs) and works mostly from Velaris now, he occasionally goes on missions, like the ones he believe are too dangerous for his spies

So Azriel goes to infiltrate Autumn (because Beron the stubborn asshole is still alive for some godforsaken reason) Rumour was that he had been trying to rally Illyrians and cause unrest, to get them to rebel against Rhysand. While it hadn't been an easy task, Azriel had gotten it done and had almost got home safely. Almost

He gets caught by sentries at the border and slaughters all of them, not before getting shot at by a poisoned arrow. It was mixed with faebane and something more potent that instantly infiltrates his blood flow and numbs his senses. He manages to winnow back to the Night Court but collapses instantly after

His mate and daughter are both a mess. The arrow was very close to his heart which was why the poison spread a lot faster than usual. At one point they didn't think he would make it. His mate was unconsollable, the possibility of losing her mate making her feel like her soul was tearing itself apart. Cassian and Nesta tried to calm her down, while his children grew even more upset at the sight of their mother. Anna cries into her Uncle Rhysand’s arms and Mikhail tries to be strong and hold back tears, if only for his mother and sister’s sake

While Azriel recovers, both of them turn into mother hens, fussing over him and making sure both their parents ate and slept well, the whole ordeal had frayed their mothers nerves as well. Its only when Azriel starts laughing again at Anna's jokes do they reassure themselves that he was truly getting better

That night the family has dinner together, laughing about the stupidest things while his children excitedly catch him up on everything he's missed. When they're done the two refuse to leave and snuggle into the bed with their parents, just like they did when they were children. Azriel sleeps peacefully that night, heart full and content, with mate and his children both in his arms, what more could he want?

@azrielweek2022 @mooncleaver @elegantranchcowboytree @cheshmetkoshgele

[mooncleaver]

where do i even begin with this.. oh my god because this just has to be one of the most beautiful things i've ever read.

its so intense. out of all the words i could use to describe this piece, i think that is so fitting because i honestly had to stop reading for a few minutes. like i had to physically leave the premises of my bed to go cool off somewhere. its so overwhelming in the best possible way; i felt every single thing each of the characters were going through and oh did you write them justice and even more. coming back to acotar i didn't expect to get such a goddamn whiplash but i genuinely have tears in my eyes right now.. like the absolute relief im feeling after finishing this story, knowing that rhys and the reader can find comfort in each other, knowing there's one person who knew and believed in him.. like this is bafta grammy golden globes oscars screenplay writer awards type shit like you know?

it was so nice to see the complete shift rhysand's attitude, speech and tone took when he found out the reader just wanted him to see the stars, and when he found out that she was from his court, how he took her arms in his to see the bargaining tattoos. language and imagery used in this was amazing! so supportive of the atmosphere that you were writing; i could feel the moment that glass between them broke.

i can't begin to imagine how special it is to share a starfall with someone. given both their situations; so drastically different in rank and yet, bounded by the same shackles and struggles at the crux. mother.

god and it just kept going! i mean i thought it was already so beautiful that she wanted him to see the stars for starfall, but to know that she did much more to try and give him a fraction of comfort in this hell hole.. like idk about you but that sounds like true love to me 🤨

“Sometimes, so many days pass by where I can’t even look at myself in the mirror, where I can’t even bear the sound of my own name, knowing the way it’ll go down in history. This, this night, your company and your kindness, it makes it feel worth it. That just one person will not hate me, for the rest of my life, makes it feel like it's enough.”

bro i was frozen for 40 minutes straight. and like dude THIS is your writing when you're exhausted? you honestly would outsell each one of the greatest scholars with your eyes closed then.

'how to save a life'? queen YOU SAVED ME!!

all i can say is that this story was plotted out so well. like this was MADE for melancholy and most importantly, hope. nothing was rushed, it kept me at the edge of my toes the entire time reading this. i didn't want this to end, ever. and i was so grateful to know this was a whole 5k words u got me kicking my feet and everything. it's so raw. there's always that teetering feeling like something could go wrong in a split second but you balanced that out with their bond.. like this is REAL literature i fear

many thanks for the absolute liberation i felt after reading this story. i really hope to see more snippets of their friendship and praying to the lord their relationship in the future. this is MY otp

HOW TO SAVE A LIFE | rhysand

summary; trapped under the mountain, starfall has always been your favourite holiday and you miss it. tonight, this time, you have one opportunity to share it with someone.

word count; 5577

notes; starfall day 3!! but also, go easy on me, I didn't proofread this. it's like midnight here, I am exhausted, let's not judge obvious mistakes 😅 also, please note, this takes place UTM, and references to rhys' SA are alluded to, so read with caution!!

‘how to save a life’ moodboard

The corridors were utterly silent as you paced up and down. Back and forth, back and forth. Your eyes flickered to the shadows across the floor moving through the open windows, your only way of measuring how much time passed was with the moon’s manipulations. As the shadows encroached closer and closer to the small scuff you’d marked as your limit on the floor, you gave a heavy sigh. 

Your thumb was in your mouth, chewing the nail anxiously, and as that thought came into focus, you removed it, scoffing idly at yourself. You weren’t in trouble. Yet. In fact, you could leave right now, and nobody would have even known it was you, you’d fly right under the radar, as you’d always done, and bring no attention to yourself. 

Who were you kidding? You weren’t going anywhere. Not even as the ceaseless pounding of your heart threatened to crack your ribs, not even as the lingering fear in the back of your mind about what you’d already done to get here made you dizzy. You were waiting it out. 

Your gaze flickered back to the silvery streaks pouring in through the window. 

Time’s almost up.

You finally paused your pacing, staring down at it as darkness crept out of silver, marking your timer. You waited for a second longer, lifting the edge of your dress and poking at it with a scuffed shoe. 

This is it.

You weren’t sure whether it was crushing relief or crushing disappointment weighing you down, that sank your shoulders into a slump that made you feel as though you were holding up the whole world. Shaking out a sigh and loosening your shoulders, that relaxation lasted for only a second, before a dark chuckle emanate from the shadows, and you were whipping around to peer into them. 

You didn’t see him at first, gaping at the darkness until he stepped out, looking every bit like a devil dressed in finery. Purple eyes glowing in the moonlight, the sharp lines of his face like jagged peaks in the dark of the hall, tall and intimidating, with a sinister smirk sat on his lips. 

“You, Little Mouse, are the one who called me here?” Like magic - well, with magic - the letter you’d scrawled in a hurry and slipped under his door mere hours ago appeared between his fingers. Scratchy, torn brown parchment, with other notes and lists and words scribbled out and crossed, reused over and over because it was all you had. 

You steeled your nerves, rolling your shoulders back and tipping your chin up to look at him as he stepped close, close enough to smell the luxurious soap that had your head spinning once again. “I did.”

Your voice only trembled a little as you spoke, and you were proud to get the words out at all. You’d never been afraid of Rhysand, but at this moment, as all that big half-Illyrian warrior and High Lord stood before you, you’d be a fool not to be at least a little intimidated. “For what?” 

He all but purred the words, smirk widening a little more, brows rising at you and his head cocked to the side. 

“A bargain… a fuck… a good look at true power? What could you,” He cast a scornful and slow stare over your body, the torn rags you called a dress, the scuffed and scratched shoes, the messy hair and dirt under your fingernails that made you hide your hands behind your back. “Possibly want from me?”

Your mouth dropped open, words silenced as you tried to work out what to say to him, but his sneer made you second-guess yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe everything you thought was wrong, maybe-

You didn’t get a chance to think any further, before the sound of pounding footsteps and angry voices bouncing off of the stone walls made every decision for you. If you were caught here, lowly and unworthy up in the higher courtrooms of the mountain palace, you’d be flogged for sure. Worse, they’d be sure to get the truth out of you, sure to get the truth of everything you’d done just to get here tonight. 

For that, they’d kill you.

In a spur of boldness that you’d most likely come to regret, your arm shot out, saving him as well as yourself as your nimble fingers wrapped around his muscle-corded forearm. Even through heavy layers of expensive black silk shirts and embroidered blazers, you could feel him tense at the abrupt contact. Dragging him along behind you, you didn’t hesitate, weaving through corridors and pathways, past floor-to-ceiling windows and being sure to remain out of sight. 

He spluttered behind you for the first few seconds, almost enough to pull a smile at your lips with the image of the terrifying Lord of Night spluttering, but your panic was far too high to even entertain that kind of thought right now. He yanked his arm free, a growl on his lips as your fingernails scratched at the soft fabric of his blazer, surely messing up some of the threads, but right now, your adrenaline was too high to be concerned with such trivial fears. 

Everywhere you turned, voices could be hurried; hurried and panicked and frantic. Boots marched, people corralled out of their way, heels tapping and weapons scraping along the floor as they were dragged. A busy, busy night indeed. 

All your fault, a voice taunted in your head, a tendril of regret finally making itself known as you fled. Despite it all, curiosity seemed to have gotten the best of Rhysand, because he was following you, despite your grip no longer being on him. He could have stopped you, even with all that dark power suppressed he would possess enough to freeze every cell in your body to his command with nothing but a wink, and yet, he didn’t. 

His long legs carried him at more of a fast walk to your hurried run behind you, and you jerked with shock when you felt the sharp scratch of an icy talon, then two, then three, scratched down your thick mental barriers. You could feel a ripple of twisted fascination burst from him at encountering any walls at all, at someone who knew how to track and resist a daemati. 

The tall doors at the end of your final corridor beckoned you forward, with intricate designs etched into the front, and thick wood that would hide you both on the other side. You’d already picked the locks, your feet finally slowing down as relief enough to make you almost collapse as you came to a halt before them. Twisting the knob with a prayer that nobody had somehow discovered your plan, locked them again to keep you out, a shaky laugh left you as the door creaked open with just a little pressure. 

Nothing but inky darkness spilt out from inside, and you stepped into it, welcoming its cold embrace and its camouflage, its protection. He followed you in, stepping through with one graceful stride, and your back collapsed onto it to push it closed, a heavy sigh leaving you as your heart rate began to even back out at last. Now, you could barely make out the silhouette of him before you, but you could feel his presence all around, like a weighted blanket closing in. 

His stare was even heavier, you didn’t need to see those violet eyes to feel the depth of them on you.

You smiled anyway, wondering if he could see you through the dark, another gift those lucky High Fae perhaps had that your lowly kind did not. Your steps were rehearsed, pacing across the room, acutely aware of where he was as he followed, just from the buzz of his leaking power on the air, all the way to the window at the far side of the room. Scraping back heavy curtains on either side of clear glass doors, you’d already picked those locks too in preparation. 

Swinging the doors open and stepping out into milky moonlight on the terrace, you took your first real breath of fresh air in weeks, sighing happily at the cold breeze of the early-Spring night.

The curse trapping you both here shimmered before you, barely an inch from the edge of the stone, and you reached out, never touching it, never risking letting it tell of your true location, but hovering your hand before it, feeling the cruel zap in warning of Amarantha’s boundaries. Never to escape, never to leave, trapped here Under The Mountain.

Your peace was shattered by the rough, animal growl of the man behind you, patience audibly fraying.

“Alright, Little Mouse, I’ve played your game. But, you know how it ends when the cat catches the prey, so what do you want?”

Finally, you turned to face him, hands clenching once again behind your back, hoping this time it would hide the tremor as your intentions were finally to be revealed. “I want nothing.”

“Everyone wants something from me. So, what is it?” He stepped a fraction closer, a snarl curling on his lips, ugly power taking over a handsome face.

“Alright, fine.” You mused, stepping a footstep closer to him as well. “What I wanted… was for you to see the sky.”

He visibly faltered, for all the roles he played and the masks he wore, this one slipped for just a second, his eyes widening as though it was a riddle, brows furrowing even deeper, and scowl twisting to a frown of confusion. “Why?”

“Because it is Starfall tonight.”

This time, his mask didn’t just falter, it crumbled entirely, the façade coming crashing down around his feet as his jaw dropped. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, gaze flicking over you in an entirely new light now, eyes narrowing to assess you but no malice behind those pretty iris’ now. “You know of Starfall?”

“Of course. It is my favourite holiday.”

An unsteady breath rushed from him, like he’d taken a hit to the lungs, eyes widening as he stared. His shoulders slumped, rigid posture melting away until he looked positively world-weary, arms hanging by his sides. It was then that he wiped a hand over his face, realising a tired laugh, and you wrapped your arms loosely around yourself. 

He didn’t recognise you, of course he didn’t you’d been counting on it for this plan to work. You just didn’t realise how cold and lonely actually having that fact acknowledged would make you feel. Rolling up one tatty sleeve of your dress to reveal swirls of blank ink beginning to climb up your forearm from your wrist, his eyes somehow seemed to widen further.

He took your wrist in his hand, your fingers tightening to a fist as a shocked gasp sounded, his touch like fire and warmth and comfort all in one as he gripped you firmly, but cautiously. Turning your arm over in his hold, he pushed your sleeve all the way up to your bicep, tracing the patterns with one fingertip, touch so light it made you shiver. Your bargain marks, messy and rough and ugly, just like the deals you’d had to strike which resulted in them.

“These… these are bargain marks. These are Night Court marks.” He traced again, thumb swiping over the pulse point on your wrist, feeling the race of it under the pad, before lowering the fabric back down to cover them again, and releasing your arm. “The marks of my court.”

His voice cracked, something within you shattering at the sound of it, and you choked down a well of thick emotion as you thought of home, for the first time in a very long while. One a whisper as broken as his voice had been, you uttered; “Yes.”

Too much weight in his stare, too many memories of a place you missed like a lost lover, too many bargains made here just to survive. 

It was all so horrible. 

“I didn’t know. I had no idea anyone from my court was here.”

There were questions loaded in that sentence. How did you get here? Why are you trapped? Who brought you? What was your reason? You wanted to answer them all, but at first, a single shrug was all that came to mind. It was so overwhelming, not only to be standing here, finally talking to the one person who could understand your longing for home, but to be standing here with your High Lord, someone you’d spent centuries admiring, decades pitying, and months plotting for.

This time, it was he who attempted a smile in comfort. It helped.

“I was travelling at the time. Seeing all of Prythian, and finding work wherever I could to find my adventure.” A horrible feeling you’d spent so long crying over worming its way back in. 

You’d spent so long dreaming of getting away from the Night Court, to explore and see the rest of the continent, of the world, and now it was all you wanted to go back. To stay forever, curled up on the windowsill of a cosy apartment that overlooked the glowing lights of Velaris, close enough to hear the music from the Rainbow and hear the happy voices, watch the snow fall or bluebells sprout. You wanted it so badly it ached.

“At the time of…” You waved a hand, throat stinging as you wrestled with emotion, unable to even say the words of this foul curse aloud, even after centuries, “I was working for the Vanserra’s. No one important, as it had always been for me, but they always bring their own staff to the parties. In case you hadn't noticed, Beron is quite high-maintenance, and Eris is terribly paranoid and suspicious.”

A laugh burst from him, rough and grating and unsteady, like he hadn't used it in so long, but it blossomed something in your chest that you thought had died long ago.

“I was one of the lowly serving staff they brought with them that fateful night, to keep Lady Autumn’s glass filled with wine, so she’d never have to lift a single finger. Unfortunately, that meant that when they were trapped, I was too. All that wish for adventure. I got a little more excitement than I bargained for, I suppose.” 

Silence settled, the story hanging between you like mist on the morning air, your head turning and gaze shifting to the twinkling stars overhead. Several minutes seemed to pass as he processed it all, and decided what to say next, a hand skimming your shoulder lightly, as though hesitant to dare touch you at all. “Why did you never come to me, before tonight?”

The laugh that tumbled from your lips was self-pitying and sad. Running your hands over the tatty skirt you wore, it felt obvious. 

He was, arguably, beside Amarantha, the most important person here. You were nobody. He wore a new suit embellished with gold and silver, you wore a dirty dress that had more patches and sewing than the original fabric. He smelled of fresh soap and aftershave, you smelled of bleach from scrubbing the floors and cinders from the fireplaces. He slept in silk sheets on a big bed, all to himself, you’d been sharing a dormitory for ten years with scratchy bedding and broken mattresses. 

And yet, you wouldn't trade with him for all the riches in the world. Your anonymity was all that protected you.

You were nobody. You meant nothing. But tonight, just tonight, you had the chance to be something.

“To what end? We’re both trapped, you have your role to play, and I have mine.”

His smile was as weak and empty as your laugh was. “It’s been ten years. I could have… I could have don’t something to help, made life easier for you, so that you weren’t so alone.”

There was a pain in his voice, a kind of ongoing struggle you’d come to terms with years ago, but it was like a fresh slice across sensitive skin for him. You reached out, hand hovering lightly over his arm, unsure whether or not it was your place. Then again, it was a barrier you’d already crossed in an adrenaline-fuelled panic. Settling your hand lightly onto his forearm, you squeezed gently, hoping it was as reassuring for him as you intended. 

“I don’t know how-”

“It’s okay, truly.” Your throat bobbed, the informality of this whole situation was surreal, only the chill in the air, wind whistling through rips in threadbare fabric keeping you grounded. “I was never alone, it’s hard ever to be alone around here. It was just lonely.”

He hummed, a non-committal response, and his mind seemed elsewhere. A heavy sigh, and then his head tipped back, eyes moving to watch the motionless stars twinkle in the sky. It wasn’t until the third shaky breath and slight sniff, hands clenching by his side, that you realised he was choking back powerful emotions. For you.

“Please, don’t worry for me, my Lord.” Your hand swept comfortingly, twice, up and down his arms, that fist of that hand smoothed out when your fingers brushed his the pulse on his wrist. Words, hanging on the tip of your tongue, dangerous and risky and presumptive, but it felt like the two of you had far surpassed those kinds of barriers by now. “It looks far lonelier and far more hurtful at the Queen’s side than where I am.”

His head snapped back down, all that anguish temporarily banished from swirling violet eyes as he studied you once again. It was like a thousand thoughts flashing through his mind too fast for you to read in his eyes. Your lungs were frozen, burning for air but unable to take any oxygen in, eyes wide and body locked as you waited. He was putting something together, he knew, his lips pressing into a thin line and you didn’t know whether this would flip it all over wrongly. 

His head cocked to the side, licking over one lip, before the edges of his lips were flickering at the edges, just slightly. 

“It was you.”

“What was me?” You’d always been a bad liar, gaze flicking away from his and it was your turn now to let the stars distract you. A talon, scraping at your mental shields again, a warning that he could if he wanted to, break through and you’d never even know. Instead, a single finger hooked under your chin, turning your face back to him. 

“It was you. You, who suddenly unearthed this mysterious prophecy about the human girl breaking the curse. You, who has Amarantha on such a wild goose chase that she has no time for… me. At least, not for a while.” He looked awed now, a reassured expression, and his hand slipped from your chin up, to cup your face. Your throat was tight, painfully so, the simple bit of affection making your eyes water and the truth poured from you in a nod. “You were so scared in the halls, pacing and fretting before I even got there. Your fear was heavy in the air. When you heard the voices and the footfalls, you fled. It was you.”

“It was me.” His breath raced from him, lips parted, and you raised your own hand. Holding his to your face, you stole a few selfish seconds, head tipping further into his palm as his thumb swept over your cheekbone; a few sacred moments of comfort. “Buying you a few hours to yourself on this night was the least I could do, my Lord. You may not have known I was here, but some of your actions, the small mercies you disguise as cruelties, have done more for me than you could ever know.”

“Call me Rhysand. Please.” He was fighting tears, much the same as you were, and his other hand joined the first, holding your face up to his own as he stepped a little closer. The warmth from his body was like a magnet you, swayed toward him, the moonlight glowing on his skin like it was made to decorate him and him alone. “At least… at least, when we’re alone. I don’t want to be anything but myself with you. You see me. You’re the only person down here who does..”

You didn’t have to force a smile anymore. It was the first one that felt honestly genuine in years. His thumbs swept a couple more times, before his arms were shaking with restraint, and he pulled them away. Silence settled around you both. With one more glance at the stars, your arms wrapped around yourself, and you turned back to him. “Enjoy the stars, Rhysand.”

There would be nothing to see, no falling stars and souls finding their way. But, just knowing that it was happening out there, watching these ones stay still and twinkle gently, it was enough to feel connected to home, just for a little while. Stepping away from him, the loneliness creeping back up already felt suffocating, like ice water ready to drag you into the darkness and the depths. 

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your own, firm but gentle, insistent but pleading. “Please- please, don’t go. Stay with me. Spend Starfall with me?”

It was an offer like you could only dream of, to spend Starfall with someone else once again, someone who knew. You had no idea how to say yes, mouth hanging open, but he seemed to get the gist, lips curling into a real smile now. Not the cruel grin he wore every day, not the cocky smirk. This was real, this was beauty and emotions and trust. 

“Yes?”

“Yes. I would like that.” This opportunity could never happen again, and so you weren’t going to let it just fly past like a misguided star. He tugged you back a little closer, letting your hand go when you fell into place by his side, and his body dropped any remaining tension. He rested his hands on the railing, cautious not to touch that barrier of the curse, and tapping the space beside him for you to join. 

You did, the two of you staring out quietly at the vast lands, the bright skies, the empty space; nobody ever dared near the centre of the horrid curse killing the lands.

“I miss the grass.”

“I have a friend… a brother, who has terrible allergies. Even a speck of pollen, and he’s sneezing and eyes running.” A wistful look took over his features, amusement and nostalgia crackling under the surface. “It’s quite the sight to see a warlord sneeze and curse at a flower.”

Your mind followed, reeling a little as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. “General Cassian… has hay fever?”

“Don’t tell him I told you, he’d string me up by my boxers from the pillars of the moonstone palace.” The sounds of your laughter bounced off of the stony sides of the mountain, echoes disappearing into the tonight, mixed with his deep chuckles. A kind of harmony formed, peace, a small bubble of a happy memory like a light amongst so much darkness. You’d look back on this moment for years, possibly decades to come, relishing in the way it felt to smile again, to have companionship and real happiness, even if it didn’t last long. “I miss the smell of the Sidra just after it rains.”

“I miss watching the snow fall at Solstice.”

“I miss the way it would feel after the snow melted, that first truly warm day.”

It somehow became a game, swapping back and forth, each thing you missed. Some were funny, others nostalgic, some were his royal experiences that made his cheeks heat and sweet chuckles leave his lips when you teased him, others had the same experience on you. 

The conversation shifted, he asked you all about your travels, told you of his favourite places he’d seen in different courts, and asked you if you’d ever been there. He told you stories about all of his adventures, as you did for him, watching the moon slowly inching its way across the dark sky as you confided in one another, all your deepest pain and joy and excitement. He told you about his friends, the shadow singer, the general, the terrifying creature from another world. He was so passionate, he loved so deeply, that by the time he’d finished, you felt as though you knew them too, like you loved them too.

Then, when your cheeks ached and your stomach was sore from all the laughing, when every happy memory had been shared, reality set back in once again. 

“I miss home.”

“Me too.” With your simple response, his gaze fixed once again above your heads, so far away and yet you longed to be there.

“It's- it’s just so godsdamned nice, that just one person knows I’m not a villain.” His words startled you, a fresh batch of pain, something deep and primal exposed like an open wound right to the heart. When you turned to face him, he was staring at the stars, but soft trails of moonlight trickled in fat tears down his cheeks. “Sometimes, so many days pass by where I can’t even look at myself in the mirror, where I can’t even bear the sound of my own name, knowing the way it’ll go down in history. This, this night, your company and your kindness, it makes it feel worth it. That just one person will not hate me, for the rest of my life, makes it feel like it's enough.”

When he finally faced you, wet cheeks and red eyes and exposed vulnerability, you gave him the same comfort he’d given you. With hands on his cheeks to wipe away those tears, you gave your best smile, letting his head hang heavily in your palms for a while. “You’ll never be the villain in my story, Rhysand.”

His lip wobbled, and he twisted his head, lips brushing your palm as he pressed a series of fragile, trembling kisses there. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Your shiver wasn’t from the cold, but from his blatant affection. At the act, however, his pained look became dismayed, glancing over your thin attire with disappointment. He stood, reluctantly peeling your hands from his face long enough to slide down the large blazer he wore, and slipping it over your shoulders. When he pulled the lapels tightly around your body, the plush lining, still filled with his body heat, was like wrapping up in front of the fireplace, on the very rare occasions you could steal a minute to do so. 

With a roll of his shoulders, those magnificent wings you’d only ever seen from afar were visible, appearing before your very eyes as though from thin air, as though they’d always been there, only veiled, and you stared unabashedly in amazement. 

Stepping closer, until you were so close your breath bounced off of his chest and you could pick out the threads in his shirt, he wrapped them around you, sealing out cold wind and the rest of the world. 

“Better?”

“Better.” You whispered, and his resulting look of pride warmed you as much from the inside as he did from the outside. After only a brief moment of consideration, you freed one arm, looping it slowly around his waist. When he only tugged you closer, your other arm joined it. Settling your cheek against his shoulder, he moulded his body to your arm, thick arms wrapping around your body in return, sealing you to him in a hug neither of you intended to let go from any time soon. 

His lips traced the top of your head as he turned, a few kisses dotted affectionately along your hairline, drawing happy sighs from you each time. When his head dipped a little further, lips near your temple, it was to quietly murmur, “Would you like to see the stars falling?”

You pulled back, barely a fraction as he refused to let you go at all, but enough to stare up at him. “How?”

“I still have a little of my powers, such as hiding these magnificent wings.” His smirk was positively feline, the nosey Lord having pulled that tidbit from your mind, and warmth raced to your cheeks. “I can show you some of my memories from previous years, if you trust me?”

Another tap of claws on your walls, a soft stroke like a finger over your skin, and you lowered your shields slowly to allow him inside. As soon as you did, you could feel him everywhere. Swarming in your thoughts, filling your head like you were both in there, and giving as much of his feelings away as it did yours. You could feel the relief at knowing someone else’s touch, that lingering guilt for not having known you but the borderline bliss at being here right now. The elation, at being trusted. The joy of having someone to share home with. 

Your eyes fluttered closed on his command, as he began to play the memories over.

Glimpses of parties, of stars and fireworks and sequins and fancy dresses. Twirling and dancing, intoxicated fun, and when you saw Azriel or Cassian or Mor, you felt his love for them like you’d feel your own. It was like seeing it through your own eyes. In this memory, he was making his way through the palace, the House of Wind atop the mountain. 

You’d seen drawings and pictures, of course, glimpsed it from afar on clear days, but nothing had ever compared to these real images of seeing the palace home. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Tall pillars and columns made of marble and moonstone, carved and designed with intricate swirls and stories. Open balconies, large rooms, enough space that it would take you days to learn your way around, and that was just the small glimpses of it you could see now. 

Eventually, he made it to the balcony, one hand braced on the stone as he stared out across Velaris down below, so far and tiny and beautiful, a vibrant ache in your heart as you longed to be back there, one that matched in his own through the connection you’d forged. 

You watched on, as his attention turned to the sky, to the falling stars, glittery and soaring and so close. So colourful up close, you’d never seen such a sight, like being immersed within the colour, becoming a part of nature temporarily, leaving you breathless and high on the feeling. 

You watched and watched, as he once had, what felt like hours slipping by until it came to an end, and your cheeks felt wet when you finally felt him pull back from your mind. Not entirely, no, a piece of him was still lingering there behind your consciousness, a comforting weight, but your senses were all back, like your spirit had sunk back into your body.

“Thank you for showing me that.”

“Incredible, isn’t it?” 

“That stars,” you breathed, “I’ve never seen it so clearly. They were so close, like you could just reach out and touch them.”

He wiped away your tears with one arm, the other still sealed tightly around you, soon to be rejoined. “You can, and when we get out of here someday, I’ll show it to you. I’ll show you so much, give you so much.”

There was nothing else to say, no more words that could fathom this feeling. But, you didn’t need them. You knew that he knew, his presence in your mind was sure to trace it. So, instead, you just snuggled in closer, cheek on his shoulder once again, and eyes sliding closed as you let yourself sink fully into his embrace. 

He needed this as much as you did, a two-way street now opened between your minds, and a selfish part of you hoped he never took it away, that even when you were alone, you’d never be lonely again. That fraction of darkness in your mind flickered, as if making a promise.

“Why? Why did you do this for me?” He eventually asked, the question that had been hovering all night. “When I have done nothing for you?”

“Because, Rhysand, I have seen you from afar. You’ve seemed so empty, lately. I wanted to give you something to remind you to hold on.”

He’s breathless, you could feel it under your own thudding heart as his pulse raced and he panted softly into your hairline, trying to settle. “Someday, I’ll take you home. Back to Velaris, where we belong. I’ll make up for everything you’ve had to go through. You’ll never want for anything, you’ll never be alone again. But, while we’re still here, I’ll make up for these ten years I’ve missed already. What can I do, what do you want first?”

“Those are beautiful promises, Rhysand, and I appreciate them, but I don’t need them. All I want, all I need, is a friend. To not be so alone.”

“Never again, darling. Never again, will I let you be alone. It’s me and you, now.” He squeezed you in, another kiss to the top of your head, and you pressed into it, leaving a single kiss to his jaw in return. “Happy Starfall, darling.”

“Happy Starfall, Rhysand.”

[mooncleaver]

What Does Your Heart Tell You?

what does a na'vi healer and a sky person have in common? well only that eywa brought them together to find peace and love within each other's arms. and maybe because they have the same, stubborn and strong-willed heart

ღ  pairing: jake sully x fem!na'vi!reader

ღ  warnings: me being lovesick MOTHER I LOVE THAT MAN!, denial, like a whole dumptruck of writing errors

Jake Sully's arrival into the Omaticaya clan had been both a blessing a curse.

Well, you were more inclined to believe it had been a blessing in comparison to the other Na'vi of your clan, who would not hesitate to bare their teeth at the 'demon'. Perhaps it was just you among select few Na'vi—those select few being.. innocent children whose curiosity knows no bounds—who had thought his arrival was what Eywa intended it to be. And somewhere inside your heart you knew letting him in was the right choice, but the other was telling you of a great storm brewing upon pandora.

You could feel it through the restless Ikran, how their screeches and squawks echoed just a little louder and how their wings would bristle at the slightest sound. Through the Pa'li's stomps from their hooves that would shake the ground with an unspoken force, or through the Syaksyuk who would retreat to the canopies with hurried steps. Though, you tried to push the shadow looming over your head away, focusing on the buzzing present with the new sky person stumbling into your home.

It was quite the surprise when your good friend Neytiri brought a sky person to your clan. From where you were all gathered you couldn't see his face clearly and yet, you could tell he wasn't one of you.

By the way he was dressed, the way he was moving; the shakiness of his steps as if his tail was knotting on his feet, and from the way he speaks. The moment he opened that mouth of his, you winced at how.. foreign, it was. Not in a sense that you didn't understand, no, but in his manner; the way he has yet to learn about the culture of the Na'vi and just how dangerous he was in the eyes of your people. He would have surely already been dead at the hands of Tsu'tey if it were not for Eywa speaking and Neytiri defending him.

When the princess protested about being his teacher, a part of you resonated with her. How is it to feel like you’re taking care of a toddler, one who is just learning how to walk and speak, only taking its first steps and yet.. whines so much. But the other part of your soaring heart which you tried to silence for your own sake was painfully intrigued by him; JakeSully, he called himself. There was something about him, something that shined past his foolish behavior that made your heart beat louder in your ears. Some fascinating thing that made your tail swish in anticipation.

Sensing an end to the abrupt meeting you had looked up, trying to catch a fleeting glimpse of the sky person and you were just as surprised as said sky person to see him staring back, something uncannily familiar clicking inside of you. Though it was gone the moment you looked away, ready to go back to the comfort your home, heart still beating wildly at the galvanizing exchange. You hoped you could see him again. In.. better circumstances.

It seems that your hopes were answered because you in fact, did, see JakeSully after that brief glance. Really it wasn't anything official. You would see him in passing when he would try to make tsaheylu with his pa'li—wincing yet again when he would fall off it—or sometimes when Neytiri would teach him to use a bow before actually venturing in Pandora's forest to find prey. Not only that, but after the chief's daughter's very.. demanding training, Jake would often find himself seeking for aid to bandage up some of his wounds. They weren't too bad really, just minor cuts and bruises that decorated his skin, or red marks from wrongly gripping his wooden bow.

And that was where you came in. After Ngeha had stepped back as the head healer for the clan—a well deserved retirement, bless that woman for carrying the weight of all the injured Na'vi over the last decades—she had appointed you, her assistant you could call it, as the new head healer. It was such an honor to finally step onto the trail she has left behind, to help the Na'vi when they needed. It felt good to be able to heal and to bring something life; you were so sure that it was your true purpose.

So it really was like fate when you met JakeSully that day he was back from his earlier days of training. He came in nastily battered (most coming from the dirt on his face, actually), some cuts and scrapes here and there. Nothing you couldn't help him with. Fortunately for him, he had one of the best healers in the clan at his service.

You remember the first time he entered the spacious hut of your workplace. It smelt earthy, like a concoction of the most potent herbs creating a mossy wood scent, hints of fresh petrichor and a sprinkle of something floral and oriental that would fly away in whiffs if one were to get close. It was marvelously calming, like the place and what was inside an extension of the forest itself. He was carefully trying to enter, calling out a distinctive and deep 'hello?' to catch someones attention.

Your ears had perked up the moment his voice echoed in your infirmary and when you revealed yourself to him, you were met with one of the funniest sights you have seen in a while. He was covered with thick, goopy mud, dragging down from his hairline to his feet, digging into his skin as if it was trying to seep in. He was attempting to shake some of it off and sadly failing at doing so.

Your silently echoing footsteps had snapped him out of his stupor and prompted him to find its source, irises raking your figure from bottom to top; you felt a wave of shivers running down the length of your spine.

‘I see you.’ he finally seemed to get out of whatever daze he was in, showing you a gesture he had been taught by Neytiri. He was looking at you carefully, scared that he might get his ass handed to him again if he made one wrong move. And at that point you had wanted to say something about that,—about how you were not going to spike his head where he stood—but you quickly went into healer-mode when you saw a small spurt of blood sprinting down from a cut wound on his left bicep.

Swiftly, you walked up to him, your eyes trained only to the expanse of his body, scanning for other injuries he might have. You reached a hesitant hand out, slowly lifting the inside of his arm so you could take a closer look at it, tracing an absent-minded finger on the rim of the cut while you observed the rest of him. Jake's heartbeat had increased a lot by then, but you didn't need to know that.

God you were beautiful. When he caught a glimpse of you during his trial with the olo'eyktan and the tsahik, he was fatally hooked from the start. You had skin of the most prussian blue, small spots glittering vividly under the Hometree and almost-indigo stripes adorning your body. You had hair just as voluminous as the rest of the Na'vi, lustrous under the periwinkle sheen, swishing wildly along the movements of your lithe body. A part of it was put back in braids, a myriad of distinctive Omaticayan beads embellishing each strand, running down as it sang with every motion.

Clueless to his silent but blazing admiration, you nudged your head at him, urging him to follow you to sit down so you could treat his wounds.

He was like a scared cat, you decided. Ears snapping up with the smallest movements and eyes taking in the place like he'd never seen such a thing before. He probably thought if he stepped on the wrong thing he'd be absolutely obliterated. Much to his relief, you had left him to his own devices to prepare the salve, herbs and bandages to treat his wounds. To be honest, you really were quite curious about the new-comer. Though an outsider would always pose a threat to the clan, especially if they were a sky person, he seemed to be innocent enough. Clueless perhaps, but not naive. But despite that, you wanted to get to know him. To get a taste of the world outside Pandora.

"So uh.. what's your name?" He had asked, situated on the plush mattress woven with threads of terra-cotta, moss and ochre, acting in an (admittedly) cute and confused demeanor.

This was your first time seeing a sky person face to face since Grace Augustine opened her school, and what would be better than to have a little fun?

You stared at him strangely, tilting your head to the side with wide, innocent eyes; feigning confusion. It was quiet for a moment, Jake waiting for your answer and you observing what he would do under the weight of the atmosphere, trying your best to hold in the laugh at the perturbed looking sky person turned avatar in front of you.

Finally, after a long awkward silence, he muttered a small 'shit, sorry' under his breathe, now realizing that you probably weren't too familiar with English, nor did you understand his question. It was rather cute to see him stumble over his own actions. The sky walker with no fear in his heart—with the same heart that was just as kind.

"Tstxo.. nga tstxo?" He stuttered, his sable brows furrowing in deep concentration, the folds on his azure skin growing more visible the harder he tried. You could tell he had very minimal exposure to the Na'vi language unlike the other avatars you'd met, but he wasn't totally wrong. There was quite a lot of space for improvement here and there, but at least he tried and that was what mattered to you.

(Name.. you name?)

You couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled up in your throat, finally breaking your facade. He sounded very funny. To at least save him the humiliation, you covered your mouth with your hands, looking away just in time for him to snap his gaze up at your direction, wide-eyed like a doe as if your voice had put him in a daze.

And maybe it did. Jake thought it was the cutest thing he's ever heard. Though he'd never say it aloud, it would be something that echoes safely in the corners of his heart, softly swelling at the melody despite not knowing why you were laughing in the first place.

"Neytiri is right. You are like a baby." Your voice was just as soft as it was striking. Your English was good, save for the slivers of inflections in it and your accent ever present.

At that point Jake had never been more relieved in his entire life. "You speak English?"

He really did look like a child. The excitement showing in his eyes could rival even the sun, glowing even brighter as more of his canines showed with how wide he was smiling; he was really, really cute.

You eagerly nodded in reply, chuckling lightly to yourself as your held a wooden bowl in your hands, walking towards where he was sitting with his head tilted up with wonder.

"You are surprised?"

The avatar paused shortly when you finally sat in front of his face, holding his cut arm with the utmost care. "I mean, yeah,"

"Pretty surprised when there's only one Na'vi willing to talk to ya'." And Jake reveled deeply in the laugh you gave him. The laugh that he caused. He was pretty damn proud of himself.

"The children like you." You'd just finished cleaning the dirt and blood with a washcloth, the yellow-ish salve you were smoothing on his skin feeling strangely cooling on the inflamed cut. Ha. You could say that. The children only looked at him like a toy; a circus attraction. Though, he appreciated that they didn't whisper behind him or give him scathing looks. At least they were nice while they tugged on his tail and his ears.

You saw the resigned shake of his head as he looked down on the mattress, lips upturned in the smallest degree. With your nimble fingers, you gave him the slightest caress, flattening the cotton bandage over his bicep, hoping to offer him the merest hint of comfort. Even if you couldn't communicate with him all that well, you tried to show him that you accepted him as he was, to show that he did belong here in one way or another. If Eywa brought him here, then it didn't matter if he was a sky person in a Na'vi body, what mattered was his purpose, and the last thing you would do is to question the mother of life herself. "Tomorrow will be better than today. Have trust, JakeSully."

He doubted your words were true. His future wasn't looking so bright.. but there was something in your expression that made him pretty hopeful, like you actually believed in him. And maybe just so he didn't disappoint you he'd look forward another day in the Omaticaya clan, even if it meant being called a skzawng a hundred times.

"y/n."

"Sorry?" The dream walker looked up confused. Again. It seems like he's been stuck in this expression since he got out of that cryopod.

There it was again, the gentle smile he liked so much. "My name. You asked for it." You answered him, patient and calm in your demeanor.

He repeated your words, testing the sound in his voice. It was not too far off the pronunciation of your name, maybe a slight accent here and there but once he got it right it was like he was relishing the feel of your name rolling off his tongue, smiling when you nodded in satisfaction.

Much to your (and his) delight, the rest of the afternoon was spent talking to each other, opening up about your role in the clan, his role as an avatar driver and what's been happening in Omaticaya lately—both from yours and Jake's perspective. He had thanked you after you finished healing and cleaning his cuts for being so kind to him. Even when he was trying to find somebody to patch his ass up he was struggling to even find where the infirmary was located, most of the clan avoiding him like a plague, only getting an answer out of a slightly annoyed Na'vi female who pointed at your hut's direction.

Maybe you were enjoying this a little too much; you were too carried away to even think about the setting sun. So when it was time to join the rest of the clan for dinner after another successful hunt, there was still so much to talk about, so much that was left resting on the tip of your tongue, barely holding onto its last rope.

That was the start of your unlikely friendship with a sky person, of how you find peace and comfort within someone so different. It was something you'd never thought you'd be involved in ever since the tragedy that was Grace's school.

The days had gone by too fast, Pandora's sun and moon blending into burst of violet and orange too fast for your eyes to even admire. Your steadfast friendship with JakeSully became one of the things you would look up to when you woke up with the horizon, the guileless excitement in your heart returning after years of what felt like a missing piece inside of you. Now it's not that living in your beloved clan was numbing and repetitive, but it felt good to finally see something new, something foreign; it's what you've longed to experience for the past years you have lived your life.

Jake had been frequently visiting your snug hut whenever he wanted to talk to you. Sometimes, he actually came with wounds and bruises that needed to be treated but other times he lacked any of the mentioned above. You noticed it. He knows about it. But neither of you dared to comment on it in fear of ruining the serene bubble the two of you were in, so fragile as if one were to say a single word filled with the brutal reality of your two differently alike worlds it would pop like a balloon.

There was one time when it had only been a mere week of the avatar coming into your hut for his very apparent struggles in learning the ways of the Na'vi, when the two of you were yet to fully trust each other and were still touching the waters that guarded each other's hearts.

Jake had a nasty burn on his palm resulting from his excessive misuse of the wooden bow as well as from his attempts to become more agile while moving in the trees; a missed step causing him to slip off a large branch. He came in with a sheepish smile on his face like he was embarrassed to be here yet again, but you never made fun of him for it or used cruel words to tease him at his own expense. You were always there with open arms, though a frown would always make its way on your face when you saw how hurt he was.

"Something is wrong, JakeSully?" You asked just as you were done with wrapping his palms, relishing the quiet evening when you saw the far-away frown he had on his face, like he was contemplating something in his mind with every inch of his brain.

His response wan't as fast and quipped as it usually was and it worried you quiet a bit. Though, he tried to reassure you with a small, unconvincing smile on his face. "You could say that."

"I am a good listener, you know." There it was. Your little attempt to see into his hearts.

Jake seemed to be surprised that you would invite him to spill all of his turmoil onto you. No one has really been there for him to ask him that, and here you were, a Na'vi healer who he'd only known for less than a weeks time, willing to listen to him without judgment. "Just got some troubles of the minds, nothing your pretty head should worry about."

"Troubles of the mind' was a euphemism for the chaos going on in Jake's head.

One one hand, he'd been relaying information about Omaticaya and the Na'vi people to Selfridge and Quaritch, feeling like he accomplished something at last. But then.. then there was you. You and the rest of the clan. Pandora.

He had finally begun to find his place within Omaticaya, creating bonds and new friendships. It was something he came to find that he wouldn't trade for anything else in the world; the chance to experience what it was like to live with freedom, to feel the wind blowing on his face and the ground grazing his feet as he ran through the forests of Pandora. The chance to learn how to see, as Neytiri told him before. If he were to continue to tell shit about the Na'vi to his higher ups, there would be no doubt that the RDA would come in hot with guns blazing, ready to do whatever it took to destroy their homes and take what they want. Then he'd lose you. But if he stopped doing that then he'd probably be booted out of the avatar program in a second. He had no real skill to offer, not like his brother Tommy who was the actual scientists that trained exactly for this opportunity. If he was out then he'd never see Pandora or you again.

Either way it was a lose-lose situation for Jake.

It was silent for a while and you let him sit there with that look in his eyes again, the minuscule downturn on his eyebrows the only telling thing about what was really going on inside his head. You wanted to pry but it didn't feel like it was your place to. He was, to an extent, still an outsider and no matter the connection you felt with him in your heart, it was best to keep a distance before you did something regretful.

"I might not understand, but I can give you this." The least you could do was try to offer him even the smallest bit of comfort. You wouldn't overstep his boundaries and if he didn't want to speak to you about what was troubling his mind then you'd let him be. Even if it had changed nothing in him, at least you could show him there was still a light on the end of the tunnel, and that was enough for you to know that he understood you were there for him in one way or another.

With good intentions, you carefully placed a finger on the left of his chest, slowly flattening the palm of your hand when he made no move to remove it. "Listen here JakeSully." Slowly, you felt the muffled beating on his chest, the inconsistent up and down of his breaths beneath your hand. "Listen to your heart. What it tells you, what it beats for."

And when you looked up to meet his eyes it felt as if the world had shifted, a strike of lighting straight into your irises. It was electrifying. He was electrifying. When you first exchanged looks with each other it was nothing than a mere glance, the seed of your now blooming flower. But now it felt like he was seeing into your soul, like your heart was laid bare right in front of him.

"Do you hear her?" Nothing but a mere whisper from your lips in the silence of the night. Beneath you his heart beat wildly until it slowed down into a calm pace, becoming one with Pandora's own heart as his emotions stirred like the gleaming milky way.

"Hear who?" His response came delayed, too busy with staring into your brilliant ochre eyes.

"Eywa Jake, the great mother of all. She lives inside of us and all around us. Feel her inside your soul, feel her heart beat along yours; her whispers, her songs and her fates. What does she tell you, Jake?"

Stay. That's what he wanted to say—what he should have said. Eywa, his heart, his entire being is telling him to stay here, in Pandora, to become one with the Na'vi just like the rest of you. To stay for you, because all those times where his heart would thud painfully loud in his chest, when his thoughts would run whizzing past his head like a raging comet he would always find peace in you. Your beauty, your grace, your smile and your laughter. And they were right about Pandora. How this planet was so beautiful and luscious that you would easily fall in love with it. But also dangerous, that love turning into death very quickly. Of all the marvelous flora and fauna that kindled the gratifying glow at night, alive with an unfeigned heartbeat, there was you; like a magnet pulling him wherever you went despite his brain saying otherwise. You made him want to stay in a dance of death with Pandora.

It was new to you, the feeling of love. Perhaps at the beginning you simply defined it as fondness, that you appreciated his company and that was all. But the more you spent time with him, the more you really started looking at him. Started admiring the vivid light in his eyes when he would smile, his baritone laughter that made you close your eyes to savor the feeling once more, or his humor; the way he was able to make such a dire situation into something the two of you could laugh about, even as far as making it your own inside joke, nudging each other on the elbows during dinner or when you would drag him to watch over the Hallelujah mountains.

Maybe it was weird and unconventional even, for the Omaticaya people to see you be so.. in love with a demon. But you had gone long past those views, giving your trust and your heart away the moment JakeSully showed you how much he tries. How much he's willing to fall and fall all over again to be able to ride his pa'li, how battered and grazed he's willing to be just so he could properly use a hunting bow and fly his ikran. And most importantly, how much he tried to befriend you, to learn your likes and dislikes, your favorite fruits and your least, your hobbies and habits. Now that was something you could admire about a man. Despite how many times he fails, he still gets up with a smile on his face.

And that was perfect to you. He was perfect to you.

So when you were finally confronted with the prospect of the man you've come to love returning your feelings, you couldn't help but step back from the rose tinted glasses you wore over your eyes, suddenly realizing that maybe.. maybe the two of you were not meant to be like you thought. He was from a different world and while yes, he was to be accepted into the clan soon, you were compelled think he was fated for something greater. For someone greater.

Eywa brought him here for a reason, and you doubt it was just to adapt and become apart of the Omaticaya. Something was looming over the whole of Pandora and you couldn't help but worry about the fickle future.

You heard him before he even said hello, the familiar thumping of his footsteps like a melody that's been ingrained into your mind. When he was finally in your vicinity, you kept your back faced towards him, occupying yourself with cutting up some of the fresh healing herbs you had gathered the day before on your venture to the forest, your fingers moving a hundred miles per minute while your thoughts were filled with him and him only.

"If you want to complain about being called skzawng, I suggest you tell Neytiri yourself. She is always looking for a good fight, you know?" The words made it out of your lips so easily as if they were practiced a thousand times. But Jake made it easy for you to talk and joke around.

The avatar chuckled at your tease, now used to your jabs. He made his way right behind you, strutting in like he owned the place but still careful not to knock anything over again—he had enough experience with your scolding to last a lifetime. "Not here to bore you with my jabber, unfortunately."

Well if he wasn't here to talk his mind off about his teacher or the Na'vi culture then the only other option was that he got injured. Of course.

"You are hurt?" Your head moved like you'd gotten a whiplash, mind instantly racing with whatever in Eywa's name Jake could have gotten himself into. In a second you were met with his smiling face, already scanning his entire body for wounds, moving his arms and his braided queue out the way so you didn't miss a spot. Jake didn't hesitate to slither his tail on your leg, almost tripping you as you made your inspection. You only glared back playfully, baring your teeth while your eyes shined in visible mirth.

"Nah, I just wanted to talk to the resident pretty lady."

Your heart skipped a beat.

Maybe if he had said something like this before, you would have taken in with a lovely smile on your face, complimenting him—or rather jabbing at him—right back. That's what you always did. But not now.

Not now when he would soon become a man before Eywa, to be apart of Omaticaya as its own. To share happiness, grief, prayers, fiesta and celebrations together with the rest of the clan. Not now when he could finally choose a woman and you wanted so badly to be her. You don't think you've ever been so in love with someone else and it would break you; tear you apart piece by piece if you let your heart drive you into his arms, if you let yourself be hurt when he decided he didn't want you.

"You can not say things like that JakeSully." The bright grin you had on your face was quickly wiped off while you slowly retreated your form from him, eyes suddenly not able to look into his like you always did.

To say Jake was shocked would be an understatement. He had never seen you so downturned, so sad all of a sudden when you were smiling just a while ago. He was used to subtly complimenting you; it was like his second nature. He didn't understand why this time it had been so different. There was a flash of pain crossing your eyes before you turned away from him and oh did that make his heart wince. He never wanted to see that expression on your beautiful face again. Jake could either get slapped out of his goddamn body or be hugged as if it was the last time you'd ever touch somebody for what he was about to say. "Why not? Can't I speak my heart out to the woman I love?"

And he could have meant it in any way. Platonic, familial, but the way he said it so seriously, as if he's never been so sure about anything else made you think it was truly from the depth of his love-ridden heart, speaking out to you romantically as a man does to a woman.

Lately he had been so bold with his words. As if one sweet phrase coming out from his lips wouldn't set your entire being on fire, as if every time you felt his breathe on the shell of your ears while he talked about how good and kind you were to him didn't kill you inside every time. And you would not let him ruin you like that. Whether he was sincere with his intentions or not.. you took love very seriously.

And if.. what if he didn't want you anymore in a few couple decades after now? You didn't know a whole lot about human culture but you were aware that it was quite different from your own. Though you loved him entirely, you didn't want Jake to regret anything.

"You-"

"Hey," he gently put his hand on your shoulder and you shrugged it off, like his touch was fire spreading sparks all over your skin. No, you will not yield to his honeyed one. You'd be damned if you turned back to see him looking at you with those half-lidded eyes again, the way they were dripping with barely concealed affection, as if he had genuinely never seen something so entirely captivating in his existence.

"What's wrong?"

You shook your head at the floor, chuckling sadly like it was a joke. Like you were really hoping for it to be true. Everything was wrong. What felt like a dazzling path laid right in front of you fell right into ruins, along the rubble and dust your heart with it.

You only looked at him again when you'd gathered enough courage to face the bane of your existence and the object of your affection, trying to speak firmly while you ignored the way your words would waver. "When you choose a woman you will be mated to her forever. You understand? Forever." The last word was emphasized greatly as you pointed your finger at him.

"Yeah, and I want you." Jake didn't even hesitate to say those words. If you were stunned before, then you were absolutely taken aback by his tone. He just kept surprising you again and again with his certainty; the confidence in him unshakable.

He paced towards you slowly, trying to be calm so you wouldn't run away or god forbid hate him for what he was about to do. You drew back as much as you could until your back hit a wall, your breathes on edge and your eyes moving wildly. He stopped in his place for a moment, letting you clear your head and relieve your heart of its tumult. One and two quiet breathes later he brought his hands up to your face, brushing away the loose tresses of hair that fell beside your face, his knuckles caressing the apple of your cheek, just beneath your waterline where he could feel your eyelashes barely warming his skin. You fell weak against the will of your own love and you followed his movements, chasing the warmth of his palms while you leaned your head against it.

As though time had started ticking again Jake help your other arm, taking it in front if him and laying your hand over his heart; the same way you had done when you told him to open his eyes to Eywa. He encased your smaller hands beneath his own, the warmth spreading from the tip of your fingers to your head and toes, finally feeling at peace, like you were always meant to be together, embraced beneath the luster of a thousand stars.

"This right here? This is what I'm listening to right now. Just like you told me to. It's telling me to choose you, and I've never wanted anyone more."

And when you stared straight into his eyes to see no malice or lies, you surged forward to capture him in a searing kiss, slowly tuning out the sounds of Pandora while you savored the taste of him. When you leaned onto him in his moment of hesitation, he threaded his hands into your hair, tiling the back of your head up so he could feel all of you. You took his breathe away so many times, punching the air right out of his lungs and he would die all over again just to get a taste of you. Now, Jake was so sure you were the only one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Being with you made him feel like he had everything—more than he deserved. There was utterly no force in this entire world that could pull him away now that he had you.

He was warm and sweet, melancholic and full of joy at the same time. Kissing him felt like you were home and being in his arms felt like this was the life you were meant to live. The missing piece that you wanted to fill so desperately laid right on the palm of his fingers and the way he gave it away to you without a doubt in his mind, you were sure whatever came to the Na'vi, you'd be able to fight through it with Jake beside you. As your friend, confidant and your heart. As your mate.

And at that moment it didn't matter if he was a dream walker; not a true Na'vi just yet—not like you yet. It didn't matter that the two of you were star-crossed lovers; two people from completely different worlds, opposite sides of a mirror where you grew up with the feeling of flourishing grass beneath your feet and him the barren soil of a long-abandoned Earth. What matters is what you see and what he sees now. Freedom, beauty, and most importantly, love. There was no shame, hate or evil where you and Jake were, only that the world finally belonged to you both. You would walk the path Eywa wanted you to with a smile on your face, because you knew he was going to be with you no matter the distance, no matter if the world crumbled before your eyes. He was your beginning and your end, wherever you went your love transcending in forms that would live on for years in the stars.

｡˚ 💟 ꒱ ➛ I LOVE JAKE SUHLLAAAAY SO MUCH GUYS U ZONT UNDERSTAND like i had my second awakening watching avatar 2… CALL ME BABYGIRL PLS ME NEXT ME NEXT!

if you see mistakes and weird writing, no you didn't. my ass isn't proofreading this monster 💀

[mooncleaver]

OMFGHRGSHJEF PLEEEASEE where are the jake sully fics! 😭 i swear i lovee neteyam and lo'ak just as much, but honestly craving for fluff or angst about papa jake :/

crowd my inbox idc, if you have any thoughts or ideas abt him im all ears 💀 itching to write rn