#now im off to mourn some more | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 5 months ago

Text

triassic love song — gojo satoru.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.” The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile. “They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation au!;

WARNING/S: edo japan era, nsfw, angst, fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, engagement, hurt, physical touch, implied character death(s), natural disaster(s), mourning, pain, grief, happy ending, depiction of natural disaster(s), depiction of suffering, depiction of character death(s), depiction of violent destruction, depiction of grief, depiction of suffering, mention of implied character death(s), mention of death(s), mention of suffering, mention of destruction, mention of earthquake-related destruction, fiance! gojo, fiance! reader, reincarnated! gojo, reincarnated! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.6k words

NOTE: this song has ruined me beyond understanding. paris paloma, your album was just insane like im sorry. the fact that she wrote a song about the triassic cuddle inspired me to write something similar and i just??? i can't help myself. ive been so crazy about this song that i just decided, you know what. this is great. this is just something i would in fact like to bawl my eyes out writing. and i did. i did that. and i hope you cry with me and enjoy it. anyway, i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IT WAS ENJOYABLE TO BE TOGETHER. IIt was forbidden to be together at this time, with the curfew in place, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when it came to him. The world outside was still, bound by rules meant to keep order, but within the quiet sanctuary of your family estate, the constraints of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant. Inside, warmth and anticipation filled the air, thick as the lingering scent of incense that wafted through the halls. The soft glow of lanterns bathed the room in a warm light, casting shadows across the delicate shoji screens, and reflecting off the polished wooden beams and traditional tatami mats beneath you.

Gojo Satoru sat beside you, his presence magnetic as always, but tonight, something was different. His signature smirk still played at the corners of his lips, and his bright, sparkling eyes glimmered with mischief. But beneath that playfulness was an undeniable depth, a new layer of emotion that wasn’t there before—an unspoken excitement, a shared understanding that you were no longer just childhood friends.

You were now betrothed.

Bound by the ties of engagement that your noble families had arranged, it felt as though a long-awaited dream had finally come true. And though you had known each other all your lives, this new bond between you carried a weight of its own, something that made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. The happiness you felt was undeniable, shared in the way Satoru’s hand occasionally brushed against yours, in the subtle glances that said everything words couldn’t.

“You’re quieter than usual, don't you think?" Satoru remarked with a teasing lilt, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of something more serious. He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, as if daring you to speak first.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his intense scrutiny. “I could say the same about you, hm?” you replied, trying to match his teasing tone, though your voice betrayed the flurry of emotions swirling within you.

Satoru chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands, eyes never leaving yours. “Well, it’s not every day you get engaged to your best friend!” he said, his tone light, but his expression softened as his usual bravado gave way to sincerity.

That sincerity took your breath away, and for a moment, the reality of the moment hit you fully. You weren’t just sneaking out to spend time with him as you had countless times before. This was different. This was a promise, one sealed by the love you’d always shared but never fully acknowledged until now.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know?” you admitted quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For us to be more than just... childhood friends.”

Satoru’s playful demeanor softened even more, a rare seriousness taking over his expression as he reached out to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, and the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“Me too.” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For a long time.”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The world outside was still and silent, but inside this room, the air seemed alive with the energy between you. The gravity of the situation settled in—this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was the beginning of something much bigger, something that both excited and terrified you.

“You always did like breaking the rules.” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension, though your heart pounded in your chest. “Staying out past curfew, sneaking into my room like this...”

Satoru grinned, his usual confidence returning. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, right?” he quipped, though the softness in his gaze lingered. “Besides, how could I stay away from you tonight? Our first night as an engaged couple... I had to be here.”

You laughed, but it was a soft, breathless sound, the kind that came when words failed to fully capture the emotions coursing through you. “I’m glad you’re here, Satoru.” you whispered.

He smiled, that warm, heart-melting smile that was reserved just for you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations placed on you by your families, not even the looming responsibilities of your engagement. It was just you and him, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that you knew you would cherish forever.

“I brought something for you.” Satoru said after a brief pause, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small bundle of paper. “I wrote these for you.”

You blinked in surprise, watching as he carefully unfolded the papers. “Poems?”

He nodded, the tiniest hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, something you rarely saw from him. “Yeah, don’t laugh!” he added quickly, though the look in his eyes told you he trusted you completely. “I’ve been working on them for a while...”

You took the papers from him, your fingers brushing his as you did. The sheets were neatly folded, each one carefully written in his distinct handwriting. It touched you deeply to know that he had taken the time to craft these for you, that he had poured his heart into something so personal. Something for you, with all his love.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I could never laugh, my dearest.” you said softly, your voice sincere. “Thank you, Satoru.”

"I made these for you, my beloved." he whispered, pulling out one of the carefully folded parchment from your grasp and unfolded it. "Listen to me, alright?"

His slender fingers traced the delicate paper before he began to read softly, his voice like a gentle breeze:

"Beneath the cherry bloom, I wait

for you, a light that never fades.

In silence, your name takes root in my soul—

a promise written long before time."

His tender words wove into your heart, each syllable filled with the love he had always held for you, now finally given shape. You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat that matched your own excitement. The future felt certain, and the night was perfect. You kept listening to his voice, letting it guide you into the tender slumber of the night.

Satoru leaned closer to you, watching your expression, his bright blue eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and affection. Your orbs gazed at the tender strokes of his writing.

His calligraphy had always been so beautiful, but to form such words in order to capture not just the feelings he had for you, it was even more beautiful. And to have him read it with such affection, such love — for you and only you…..what could be more beautiful? What could be more perfect, more delightful?

But then, the ground beneath you shifted, a low rumble reverberating through the tatami mats. At first, it was subtle, almost imperceptible, but within seconds, the shaking intensified. It was subtle at first, a low rumble that made the lanterns flicker.

Satoru paused, his brow furrowing. Before you could ask, the ground shook violently, and the delicate house groaned under the pressure. Screams erupted from other rooms, echoing through the halls as the tremor grew stronger.

"Satoru?" you whispered, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, not from love, but from fear.

He was already moving, his hand gripping yours tightly. “Stay with me, my beloved.” he commanded, his voice steady, though his eyes flashed with a seriousness you had never seen before. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The room shuddered violently as the earthquake hit full force, and you could hear the distant crashing of objects falling in other parts of the house. Screams erupted outside even louder—voices of your family, the servants, all caught in the chaos of the sudden disaster. And then all the sudden, it was eerily quiet. And that made your heart drop to your stomach

For a moment, you thought that it would finally be over. But then, the earth beneath you trembled once more. You squealed as Satoru let his body encompass your own with the enveloping of his whole body on yours as the world crashed against you both. The walls were swaying left and right, the roof tiles were shattering one after another. It was chaos.

"Hold on to me. Don’t lift your eyes." he said, his voice calm but firm, even as the world quaked around you. “I’ll protect you.”

You clung to him, your heart pounding in fear as the floor shifted beneath your feet. His grip was unyielding, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies, shielding you from falling debris as the shaking intensified.

“I’ve got you, my beloved.” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady despite the chaos around you. “D–don’t worry.”

You feared when he stuttered, that he had gotten hurt. But he did not falter. His fingers gently stroked your back, trying to calm your trembling as the earthquake raged on. You could hear the distant crashing of porcelain and wood, your ears ringing from the harsh sounds of the destruction. But in his arms, you felt an odd sense of safety amidst the destruction. Because it was your Satoru holding you, protecting you. Because you’re together.

As the tremors finally subsided, Satoru’s grip on you loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. His breath was shaky, and when you looked up at him, you saw a rare flicker of fear in his usually carefree eyes. He swallowed hard before giving you a small, reassuring smile. You were still stunned, your head shaking as you tried to make sense of the world.

"Seems like the earth itself wanted to remind us of its power." he joked softly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. He was just as afraid, perhaps even pained by some injury he would never show you. “We’re….we’re alright, my beloved. Don’t worry.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still clutching his robes as you pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The night was no longer perfect, but in that moment, with Satoru holding you close, it felt like nothing could tear the two of you apart—not even the earth itself.

The earth, which had momentarily stilled, seemed to shift again beneath you, this time more violently.More catastrophic, more angry and volatile. You screamed as you held tightly to him, his body wrapping itself against you once more. The walls of your room groaned, beams creaking as the tremors returned with a vengeance, fiercer than before. The floor shook so hard you could barely keep your balance, even in Satoru's arms.

He pulled you even tighter against him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Stay with me. Don’t let go.”

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath his robes, his usually easy going demeanor replaced by something more protective, almost desperate as his entire body forced itself to become a shield against anything against you. What remained standing of your ancestral home rattled more easily around you, dust falling from the ceiling in thick clouds. Outside, the screams grew louder, more frantic as the destruction worsened. Perhaps, it wasn’t even your family any longer. Perhaps it was the town, perhaps it was a neighboring village. You do not know anymore. And that’s what frightened you even more.

You could hear the unmistakable crash of something heavy—perhaps a roof beam—collapsing nearby. Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air. The wide, elaborate shoji doors rattled on their frames before they were blown open by the force of the quake. Your own room felt like it was being torn apart piece by piece. One of the wooden beams above groaned under the strain and, without warning, splintered and fell, hurtling toward the two of you.

Your beloved Gojo Satoru reacted in an instant, pushing you down and covering you with his body just as the beam crashed into the floor where you’d been trying to stand. The air was thick with dust, and the scent of earth and shattered wood filled your lungs, choking you. You shook as your eyes slowly opened to see your fiance pinning you down with his body shielding you.

“Satoru!” you gasped, your hands gripping the front of his robe, desperate to make sure he was unharmed.

“I’m fine, my beloved.” he muttered, though you could hear the strain in his voice. His arm was still braced above you, shielding you from any further debris. His other hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into the crook of his neck. “We need to move. The house isn’t going to hold.”

You nodded against him, heart pounding in terror. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from. The childhood home that had always felt so safe, so untouchable, was crumbling around you, and the only solid thing left was Satoru. He was all you had, you think. Everything…Everything was gone. Your body was shaking.

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you toward the door, but just as you reached it, another powerful tremor sent the ground pitching beneath you. You fell forward, and Satoru caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as the floor buckled and cracked beneath your feet. You could feel the splintering wood beneath your sandals, the whole structure of the house breaking apart beneath the relentless force of the earthquake.

“Satoru, we need to get out—” you started, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of another beam collapsing behind you, followed by a sickening crash from outside the room.

“I know, I know.” he said, his voice tight with focus as he scanned the surroundings. "We’ll find a way out. I promise."

He led you toward the door again, but just as you stepped forward, the entire room seemed to tilt. The floor caved in with a horrific crack, and suddenly, you were falling. Satoru’s grip tightened as you both plummeted into darkness, the floorboards and debris collapsing into the space below.

“Are you hurt?” Satoru’s voice cut through the chaos, his hand cupping your face gently as he pulled you close, checking for injuries in the dim light. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the fear he usually kept hidden so well.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, though your body felt battered and sore.

He exhaled in relief, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment, his breath shaky. “We need to get out of here. Stay close to me.”

Even now, with the world collapsing around you, his determination didn’t waver. He pulled you to your feet once more, and together, you began to make your way through the rubble. The house was a maze of fallen beams, shattered walls, and debris, the once-beautiful estate reduced to ruins in a matter of minutes.

The aftershocks still rumbled beneath your feet, making every step treacherous, but Satoru kept you steady, his arm around your waist, guiding you through the wreckage. The air was thick with dust, and the distant screams of those outside continued, filling you with dread for what might await you once you escaped.

As you neared what used to be the outer courtyard, the quake hit again, this time more violent than any before. The very ground seemed to split open beneath you, and with a loud, earth-shattering roar, the outer wall of the estate gave way. You barely had time to scream before the floor cracked beneath your feet, and you fell into darkness once more.

This time, Satoru’s grip on you tightened, and you felt his body pull you against him, sheltering you as the ground gave way entirely. You hit the ground hard, the pain radiating through your body, but before you could react, you felt the warmth of Satoru’s arms around you, shielding you from the worst of it.

“Don’t leave me.” he whispered, his voice trembling as he held you tighter than ever. “I won’t let anything take you from me—not this, not anything.”

In that moment, as the world continued to crumble around you, his words were the only thing that kept you grounded. No matter what happened next, as long as you were with him, there was still hope. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his robes, as the tremors finally began to subside, leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage, but together.

You landed hard, the wind knocked out of you as your back hit the ground. The tatami beneath you was torn, and debris scattered everywhere, yet Satoru still held onto you, his arms wrapped tightly around your body, as though his grip alone could shield you from the crumbling world. The force of his embrace had absorbed much of the fall, but the impact still left you breathless. For a moment, everything was a blur—dust and darkness clouded your vision, and the deafening roar of collapsing beams filled the air.

Your body throbbed with pain, and panic surged in your chest, but even through the chaos, the warmth of Satoru’s body against yours anchored you. His presence, solid and unyielding, kept you grounded in the midst of the chaos.

"Satoru..." you gasped, your voice barely audible, but he heard you.

“I’m here,” he whispered fiercely, his voice steady despite the tremors still shaking the earth beneath you. His breath was ragged, but his grip on you didn’t falter. His white hair, now disheveled and covered in dust, clung to his forehead, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—remained focused on you. “Are you hurt?”

You tried to shake your head, but your mind was still reeling, struggling to catch up with what had just happened. The earthquake raged on, though the initial violence of it had passed. The ground trembled beneath you like a sleeping beast disturbed from its rest.

Satoru shifted, pulling you up as carefully as he could. The house around you was nearly unrecognizable—wooden beams had collapsed, shoji screens were shredded, and parts of the roof had caved in. The once peaceful and warm room where you had shared your engagement was now in ruins, littered with broken objects and torn memories.

The sound of screams echoed from outside, faint but piercing. Servants. Family. It was hard to tell who, but the urgency in their voices cut through the haze of shock that clouded your mind. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping you once more.

“My family... my parents.” you muttered, scrambling to get up, but Satoru stopped you, his hand on your shoulder, firm yet gentle. “Satoru—”

"Wait," he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of authority. "We need to get out of here first. It’s not safe."

He tried to keep you calm, his steady hands guiding you through the debris, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was on high alert, his senses sharp as he glanced at every unstable beam, every shifting pile of rubble. He was scanning for danger, but more than that, he was trying to protect you from seeing the worst of it—the destruction, the death.

But as you stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been your home, you couldn’t avoid the horrors that surrounded you. Bodies. Littered through the halls, some crushed beneath fallen beams, others lying still in the open. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world spun around you.

"Satoru..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled away from his protective hold. "Where are they? My parents... my siblings?"

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes darting around, trying to keep you moving forward, away from the bodies, away from the worst of it. But you knew. The silence was louder than any scream. You could feel tears fall from your face and that broke his heart to see.

"Satoru!" you cried, your voice breaking as your legs buckled beneath you. "Where are they?"

He knelt beside you, his hands cupping your face as he gently forced you to look at him. His bright blue eyes were filled with an overwhelming sadness, but he tried to hide it, to be strong for you. He had to be strong. He had to. He can’t be weak, not right now.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to go. We need to find shelter. I’ll take you to my family home. They’ll know what to do.”

You nodded, though the words didn’t fully sink in. Your body was moving on autopilot now, your mind numb to the world as Satoru pulled you back to your feet. With every step, the destruction around you became more apparent, more real. The walls were crumbling, the air thick with dust and smoke, and the scent of burning wood filled your nostrils.

Together, you navigated the ruins of your estate, stepping over debris and through the remains of lives that had been lost in the quake. GojoSatoru kept a firm grip on your hand, leading you with a determination that seemed almost impossible given the circumstances.

But even he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched when another body appeared in your path, forcing him to shield you from the sight.

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IT WAS A CHALLENGE, TO GO AND LEAVE THE DESTRUCTION BEHIND. The sky deepened into a somber shade of dusk as you and Satoru finally reached the estate’s edge. The once proud gates, symbols of security and honor, now stood twisted and mangled, crumpled by the sheer force of nature’s wrath.

Beyond the gates, the town stretched out in a nightmare of ruin—buildings reduced to heaps of rubble, streets fractured and littered with debris, and the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and dust. The cries of the wounded and the wails of those searching for lost loved ones echoed through the broken streets, a chorus of despair that filled the silence left in the wake of destruction.

“Keep your head high,” Satoru urged, his voice low but firm as he tightened his grip on your hand. “Don’t look. Just… don’t.”

But it was impossible not to look. How could you not see the devastation, shared by all? Every corner of the town had been touched by this catastrophe, and every person who remained alive carried the weight of loss. It was a destruction understood by all, but none more deeply than you at that moment.

The memory of your home—once filled with laughter, warmth, and the presence of family—now lay in ruins. Your parents, your siblings… their fates were unknown, swallowed by the chaos. You hadn’t seen them, and the hope of finding them alive was growing fainter with every passing moment. Satoru’s words rang hollow in your ears, even as you clung to his hand for strength.

He guided you through the crumbling streets with a fierce determination, always positioning himself between you and the worst of the wreckage. The buildings, once grand and vibrant, had become tombs of stone and wood, each step revealing more of the town’s shattered soul. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, some half-buried in rubble, others left untouched by the debris but claimed by the quake nonetheless. It was too much, too overwhelming.

Every time you stumbled, your legs trembling with fatigue and grief, Satoru was there, catching you before you could fall. His presence was like an anchor, keeping you steady amid the storm of devastation that swirled around you. His hand never left yours, his touch a silent promise that you weren’t alone in this. You didn’t have to face it all by yourself.

The survivors—those who had managed to escape the collapse of buildings or who had emerged from the wreckage—followed behind you, a somber procession of hollow eyes and ashen faces. Their steps were slow, heavy with the weight of shock. No words passed between them, no cries for help—only silence and the occasional sob as they moved like ghosts through the streets, trying to find some semblance of safety, of life, in this broken world.

Your heart ached for them, for their pain, but your own grief consumed you. The memory of your family’s voices, the warmth of your home, felt so distant now, like a dream you had just woken from. And yet, with each step you took beside Satoru, you realized that this nightmare was real, and there was no waking from it.

The earth beneath your feet still trembled occasionally, aftershocks reminding you that the worst might not yet be over. Each tremor sent a fresh wave of fear through your body, your grip tightening around Satoru’s hand. He responded in kind, his hand strong and reassuring, though you could sense the turmoil roiling beneath his calm exterior. His family, too, was somewhere in this mess. Their fate hung in the balance just as much as yours.

As you made your way through the gates, leaving behind the wreckage of your estate, you couldn’t help but glance back one final time. The place where you had grown up, where you had shared laughter, joy, and the news of your engagement just hours ago, was now unrecognizable. In the span of mere moments, everything you had known had been reduced to rubble, leaving behind only echoes of the life you had once cherished.

“Satoru…” your voice cracked as you spoke his name, the words barely audible over the distant cries. He stopped, turning to look at you, his eyes softening with concern.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall unnoticed. “I know it’s hard. But we’ll make it through this. We have to.”

His resolve was unshakable, but you could see the grief hidden behind his determination. He was trying to be strong, not just for himself, but for you. His family’s estate lay ahead, yet you both feared what you would find when you arrived.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the land in shadow, you continued onward, the fire of Satoru’s presence the only thing keeping you from sinking into despair. The path was treacherous, littered with fallen beams and shattered stone, but Satoru led the way with careful, deliberate steps. He kept you close, his arm around your waist now, guiding you over the broken streets as you navigated what felt like the remains of the world.

Every glance revealed more heartache—broken homes, toppled lanterns, and the pale, lifeless faces of those who hadn’t made it. But Satoru never let you linger, gently urging you forward each time your gaze began to drift toward the horror around you.

Finally, you reached his family’s estate. Or what remained of it. The grand structure that had once stood proud and formidable was now a heap of collapsed roofs and shattered walls. The once beautiful garden, where you had shared many moments of happiness, was now a twisted, chaotic mess of uprooted trees and scorched earth.

Satoru stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the destruction with a silent, composed fury. The pain was etched into his expression, though he quickly masked it as he turned to you, his voice low but firm.

"We’ll make it through tonight," he said. "We have to survive, no matter what."

In that moment, even as the world crumbled around you, there was no fear in his eyes—only determination. For now, all you could do was follow him. Follow him through the darkness, trusting that somewhere, beyond the destruction, hope still lingered.

As you finally reached the outskirts of the Gojo estate, the enormity of the destruction hit you again. The town below had not been spared either. Smoke rose in the distance, and the ground was littered with rubble, buildings half-collapsed, and people wandering aimlessly, searching for loved ones.

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He pulled you forward, his grip never loosening as he led you through the streets toward his family’s home. But when you arrived, the sight that greeted you was even more devastating.

His family estate, much like your own, had been reduced to little more than a broken shell. The grand gates had collapsed, and the once beautiful gardens were torn apart, now little more than mounds of earth and stone. The house itself had fared no better, with parts of the roof caved in and walls shattered.

Satoru’s face paled as he took it all in, his hand tightening around yours in a desperate attempt to remain calm. But you could see it in his eyes—the grief, the disbelief. This was his home. His family. And now, it is gone.

For a long moment, he stood still, his gaze fixed on the destruction before him. His breathing was shallow, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. But then, with a sharp breath, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

As you both began your journey toward the Gojo family estate, the weight of the day settled heavily on your shoulders. But Satoru’s hand never let go of yours, a silent promise that even in the face of unimaginable loss, you would survive this—together.

When you and Satoru finally reached the outskirts of his family estate, the sinking feeling in your chest returned with full force. What should have been a place of refuge, a sanctuary from the horrors you had just fled, was nothing but devastation. The Gojo estate, once majestic and proud, had fallen to the same fate as your home.

The gates were twisted and mangled, barely hanging from their hinges, and the walls that had once stood tall now lay in heaps of rubble. Smoke rose from what remained of the manor, a bitter scent of burning wood and stone hanging in the air. The destruction was so complete, so absolute, that it felt like the very earth had swallowed everything whole. The silence was deafening.

Gojo Satoru froze at the sight, his grip on your hand tightening until it almost hurt. You looked up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his usual brightness dulled to a vacant stare. His family, his home....everything he had known, everything he had grown up with. All was gone. Nothing was left but the earth where it all once stood.

You tried to say something, to offer words of comfort, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. More tears could only pour out of your eyes from then on. All you could do was squeeze his hand, hoping he would feel your silent support. He didn't need to hear your words right now; he just needed to know you were there.

For a moment, he stood motionless, his blue eyes scanning the destruction as if trying to comprehend it, trying to find any sign of life among the wreckage. But there was nothing. Just like at your estate, the earthquake had consumed everything.

Finally, Satoru exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. But even in his grief, he didn’t break. He couldn’t—not with you depending on him. He glanced down at you, his eyes softening with a kind of sadness you had never seen in him before.

Satoru stopped for a moment, turning to you with a look of determination in his eyes. “We’ll make it through this,” he promised, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the fear he was trying so hard to hide. “We’ll get some place safe here, and I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you again. You hear me?”

You nodded, though the world felt unsteady beneath you. The future that once seemed so bright, the engagement that had filled your heart with hope, now felt overshadowed by the tragedy that had befallen your lives. Still, with Satoru’s hand wrapped securely around yours, you knew one thing for certain—no matter what came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

“We need to stay warm tonight.” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not safe to wander around in the dark. We’ll make a fire here, and then tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do.”

He led you to a relatively clear patch of ground, away from the worst of the rubble. The sky was darkening, and the air had grown cold, a biting wind cutting through your torn clothes. Satoru quickly set to work, gathering what dry wood he could find, his movements steady and focused despite the grief that must have been tearing him apart inside.

You watched him in silence, too exhausted to help, too numb from everything that had happened. When the fire finally sparked to life, its warmth was a welcome reprieve from the cold that had settled deep into your bones. You sat beside him, huddled close to the flickering flames, the only source of light in the endless night.

Your Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He simply stared into the fire, his expression distant, lost in thoughts you couldn’t fathom. His hands, usually so relaxed and playful, were tense, gripping his knees as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.

But then he turned to you, his gaze softening when he saw the exhaustion written on your face. Without a word, he pulled his outer robe from his shoulders and wrapped it around you, tucking it gently against your chin. He tried to do it, smiling like nothing happened. As though to comfort you even in all this suffering. And yet, you could see it all in his eyes. He was exhausted, he was in pain. And he didn’t know what to do.

“Sleep, my beloved.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep watch.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him that he needed rest just as much as you did, but your body betrayed you. The exhaustion, the grief, the sheer weight of everything you had been through—it was too much. You nodded weakly, laying your head against his shoulder as you curled into the warmth of the robe.

Satoru shifted slightly, easing you into a more comfortable position so you could lie down near the fire. His hand rested on your arm, a protective gesture that reminded you of his earlier promise. Even as the world fell apart around you, Satoru Gojo was still there, watching over you.

As you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the crackling of the fire and the steady rise and fall of his breathing, Satoru leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if he were afraid to pull away, afraid that something might take you from him if he let go.

“I’ll keep you safe, my beloved.” he whispered against your hair, his voice trembling with the weight of his vow. “No matter what happens. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The fire flickered, casting shadows across his face, but his resolve was unshakable. He couldn’t save everything—his home, his family—but he would save you. That much, he was certain of.

As you slept, Gojo Satoru remained awake, his eyes scanning the horizon, alert for any sign of danger. The devastation around him was complete, but his focus never wavered from you. You were his world now, the one thing he had left in the midst of the ruin.

The night stretched on, cold and unforgiving, but Satoru didn’t move from his spot by your side. Even as the grief gnawed at him, even as the weight of everything he had lost threatened to crush him, he stayed strong. For you. Because no matter what came next, no matter how uncertain the future had become, Gojo Satoru had made a promise—and he would keep it.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THE YEAR 2018 WAS AN INTERESTING YEAR FOR DISCOVERIES. You remember reading about it in the newspaper on your way to university—the discovery of two lovers found in an eternal embrace, huddled together in a shoreline cave, their bodies preserved for three hundred years by the elements that had claimed their lives.

The volcanic eruption, the earthquake, and the tsunami that had ravaged Japan centuries ago were some of the worst disasters the country had ever known, obliterating entire villages and swallowing countless lives in an instant. And yet, even in the face of such unimaginable destruction, these two had remained together, their bond undisturbed by the passage of time.

Standing quietly in front of the memorial, you felt the weight of their story settle around you. The air was still and somber, carrying with it the distant hum of waves crashing along the shore. The stone monument before you was simple yet profound—a silent marker of the love these two souls had shared, a love that had endured in the most unimaginable of circumstances. Their bodies had been found in the ruins of a household long buried by the mud and debris, a household much like the ones surrounding this coastline, now reduced to scattered memories.

You had followed the story from the beginning—the day the archaeologists uncovered them from the earth, the painstaking care they took in revealing the remains. The headlines had drawn attention, not because of the tragedy alone, but because of the story those two bodies told.

There were no names. No clues as to who they had been, what their lives had looked like before the disaster struck, or even how they had ended up in each other’s arms when the end came. But it didn’t matter. Their identities weren’t needed to understand the significance of what had been found. What mattered was that they had faced their final moments without fear. They had faced the end together, with love.

It was that thought—the resilience of love in the face of overwhelming disaster—that had touched you most deeply. In a world where so much is fragile and fleeting, the strength of their connection had remained, even after centuries had passed. It was as if their love had transcended the destruction, as if they had chosen to defy the disaster by holding on to one another in their last breath.

You stepped forward, placing your hands together in silent prayer. You wished them peace, a kind of peace that transcended the tragedy of their death, that honored the love they had shared.

You prayed that their spirits had found rest, and that wherever they were now, they were still together, watching over the place where they had once stood. The offering you placed at the memorial was simple, a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, symbolizing purity and remembrance.

"I pray that you'll always be together, the two of you." you murmured, your voice soft, barely louder than the breeze that rustled through the trees around the monument. "Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace, and that your love is still as strong as it was in those last moments."

You stayed there for a while, the silence of the memorial surrounding you, offering its quiet comfort. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the scene, a contrast to the deep sense of loss the place carried. But you didn’t feel sadness. Instead, there was something almost beautiful about it—knowing that even in the face of disaster, these two had been together, and their love had transcended time. As you prepared to leave, footsteps approached from behind. You turned slightly, curious to see who else had come to visit this quiet, forgotten place.

A man with striking white hair and bright blue eyes under the rim of his glasses stood at the edge of the memorial, his head bowed in silent prayer. He was tall, his presence commanding even though he moved with a quiet grace. His features were sharp, but softened by a kind of deep, unspoken sorrow. He knelt down beside the monument, laying a single white flower on the stone, his fingers brushing the surface with reverence.

You watched him for a moment, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity, though you couldn’t quite place it. The way he stood there—tall and composed, with an air of quiet reverence that just seemed to draw you in.

There was something almost ethereal about him, as if he was intrinsically linked to the story of the lovers you had come to honor. The connection felt deeper than mere coincidence, as though his presence was a significant part of the narrative that had touched you so profoundly.

His white hair glowed softly in the fading light, and his posture was relaxed yet dignified, embodying a calmness that contrasted sharply with the turmoil you had felt as you reflected on the lovers’ fate.

His eyes were closed in prayer, his face serene, as if he was offering a deeply personal tribute to the souls who had been found together in their final moments. The sense of connection was so strong that you could almost feel it emanating from him, a silent bridge spanning the centuries between his presence and the lovers' tragic end.

You hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his moment of solitude. Yet, there was something compelling about the situation—an unspoken invitation to acknowledge the shared significance of this place and the story that bound them all together. Your curiosity and empathy drove you to speak, despite the quietude that hung between you.

“Excuse me.” you began softly, breaking the stillness of the memorial. Your voice was gentle, barely a whisper against the backdrop of the crashing waves. “I couldn’t help but notice… There's something about you that feels so familiar, so connected to this place. I… I’ve been deeply moved by the story of the lovers found here, and I can’t shake the feeling that you share a connection with them.”

The man turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and understanding. He seemed to consider your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful and measured. There was a softness in his gaze, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this conversation, even if he didn’t quite know why.

“Oh.” Gojo Satoru whispered back, his cheeks tinged with a flush of surprise, as if your words had caught him off guard. He seemed momentarily at a loss, his usual confidence replaced with a bashful vulnerability. “Yeah, I… I saw the news, and I thought, I just had to come. It felt… it just felt right, you know? To come here and see them off, to wish them well.”

There was a sincerity in his voice, a raw honesty that struck a chord. You could see that this wasn’t just a casual visit for him; it was something deeply personal, a moment of reflection and respect that went beyond mere curiosity.

“I see…” you mumbled, your gaze softening as you looked at him. A smile slowly spread across your face, touched by his heartfelt gesture. “That’s kind of you to do.”

Gojo Satoru shook his head slightly, a rueful smile on his lips. “Ah, not… not really,” he said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “If anything, I think you were more kind. You brought them white chrysanthemums and everything. You probably had more of a proper prayer for them than I did.”

You waved off his comment with a small laugh, the sound light and airy in the quiet of the memorial. “Oh, not at all. I think… I think your intention was purer than mine. You came here just on a feeling, an instinct that something was right about being here. I was… I was interested historically before I was here emotionally, you know?”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “I guess we both had our reasons,” he said softly. “But in the end, it’s the connection that matters. Whether we came here out of personal feelings or historical interest, it’s our respect and acknowledgement that count.”

You nodded, feeling a shared sense of purpose in your conversation. There was something profoundly meaningful about how your paths had crossed at this place, driven by a mutual respect for the story of the lovers and a desire to honor their memory. The distinction between your reasons for being here seemed to dissolve in the face of a greater truth—that both of you were here because of a deep-seated respect and a wish to pay tribute to the enduring power of love.

“So……” Gojo continued, a slight smile returning to his lips, “I’m glad we met here. It feels like the right place for this kind of encounter, don’t you think?”

You agreed, feeling a warmth in his words. “Yes, it does. It’s like the universe brought us together in this moment to remind us of something important.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, something like that. It’s nice to know that even after so much time, and despite all the changes and challenges we face, there are still moments that can bring people together in such a profound way.”

You stood together in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared understanding settling around you. The memorial continued to stand as homage to the lovers’ eternal bond, and in that quiet, sacred space, you felt a connection that transcended all the limits given by the bountiful universe.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.”

The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile.

“They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

There was something in his tone, a weight to his words, that made you wonder if he was speaking from experience. You gave him a respectful nod, choosing not to pry into the emotions that seemed to flicker beneath his calm exterior.

The two of you stood there in silence for a while longer, both paying your respects to the nameless lovers who had defied death with their love. The sun continued to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the memorial. Finally, the man rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes before turning to you.

“Take care, stranger.” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the sorrow that had lingered moments before. Then, with one last look at the monument, he began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light like a beacon.

As you watched him go, something tugged at your heart. You didn’t know who he was, but in that moment, you felt as though you had shared something important with him—an unspoken understanding of love and loss, of holding on to someone even when the world falls apart around you.

Somehow, there was something stirring within you—a feeling that you couldn’t let him just walk away, not without knowing more. There was something about him, an invisible thread connecting you, as if fate had brought you both to this quiet place for a reason.

"Wait! Hey, mister!" you called out softly, taking a few steps toward him. The man paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious but calm.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, with a gentle smile, you extended your hand. "I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself. My name is……"

He looked at you for a moment, as if weighing whether to reciprocate. Then, with a small, almost teasing smile, he took your hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, and comforting in a way that felt strangely familiar.

"I'm Gojo Satoru." he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with something deeper, as if his name carried a history he didn’t fully reveal.

The name hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of recognition. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. You smiled politely, though something about the way he said it, the way his gaze softened as he looked at you, made you feel like there was more to his introduction than simple formality.

"It's nice to meet you, Satoru." you replied, feeling a strange sense of ease as you spoke his name. There was something about the way it rolled off your tongue, as if you'd said it a thousand times before.

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp, crystal-blue eyes studying you with an intensity that was both disarming and oddly reassuring. It was as if he could see beneath the surface, understanding more than what was immediately apparent. Yet, instead of feeling exposed, you felt a sense of comfort, a silent acknowledgment that he grasped the depths of your emotions and thoughts.

With a gentle, almost shy smile, Gojo Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it toward you. “Put your number in,” he said, his voice tender and inviting. “I think… I think you know more about this story than I do. I’d like to know more, if you’re willing to share.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the request, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his smile compelled you to act. With a nod, you took his phone from him and began to enter your contact information, a small flutter of excitement rising in your chest. There was something intriguing about the prospect of continuing this conversation, of sharing more about the story that had brought you both here.

When you handed his phone back to him, a playful grin appeared on your face. “It’s your turn,” you said, taking out your own phone and extending it toward him.

Gojo Satoru chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he looked at your phone. “Well, alright.” he said, taking it with a mock sigh of resignation. “If you insist.”

As he entered his number into your phone, the atmosphere between you shifted from one of solemn reflection to one of friendly connection. The small act of exchanging numbers felt like a bridge, linking your shared experience at the memorial with the potential for future conversations and deeper understanding. Maybe, just maybe — you’ll understand life the way these two in front of you did. Just maybe.

When he handed your phone back to you, he looked at you with a genuine smile. “Thanks for sharing this moment with me. It’s been… meaningful. I’m glad we crossed paths today.”

You smiled back, feeling a warmth in your chest that came from more than just the shared experience. “I’m glad too. It’s not every day you meet someone who understands the significance of something like this so deeply.”

Finally, Satoru spoke again, his tone lightening slightly. "Well, I should be going. The train is leaving soon. But... It was nice meeting you." He paused, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe we’ll see each other again."

You smiled, feeling the same unspoken connection. "I’d like that."

With one last look at the memorial, Satoru turned and began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light of the day. You watched him go, a strange sense of calm settling over you.

As you stood there, the weight of the lovers' story still fresh in your heart, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time you would see Gojo Satoru. Something told you that your paths would cross again, in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the memorial, you whispered one final prayer—not just for the nameless lovers, but for yourself, and perhaps for Satoru too.

"May we all find each other, in every lifetime."

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singswan-springswan · 10 months ago

Text

ficlet under the cut

The crate tipped with a sudden lurch and broke open on the ground. Zuko spilled unceremoniously with the motion. Inelegant. Graceless. Normally his movements held much more regality, but he'd been kidnapped and stuffed in a scratchy box and out of the water for some indeterminable length of days, so cutting himself some slack here felt appropriate.

It wasn't much brighter outside the stupid box. His scales were dry, his head was killing him, and the floor held a pleasant cool against his mounting fever. He really needed water soon. Every part of his body felt... scratchy. Discomfort would escalate into pain, and then asphyxiation. He would suffocate if he dried out. Idly, he wondered how long it would take. The humans seemed to know. They hadn't acted worried yet.

"Our latest bounty." The voice looming over Zuko was muffled in weird places. "I thought it might spark an interest. You collect fire fish, isn't that right?"

Zuko bit down a hazy groan and fumbled to prop himself up. The loss of the tile's cool against his cheek was one he mourned, but there would be time for relaxing when he found a way out of this mess. He could barely think straight. The humans—the pirates who'd ransomed him from the girl in blue—were standing guard around him now. He could see their boots. They were facing all the same direction, same way the voice was talking towards, and Zuko turned to observe.

The surrounding space was large, a room, and very dimly lit. This wouldn't normally be an issue, being that he was a mer, but his headache made his eyes lazy and bad at adjusting to the dark. If he squinted, he could see the ripple of light along the walls. Blue. Weird. In the direction of the pirates' attention, something like the outline of a table was visible—as large and imposing as the room itself. A single shadowy figure occupied a seat on the far side. He looked weird with the backlight. Zuko's vision was getting spotty.

He didn't get much chance to scan the rest of the surrounding space, because the pirate captain decided to be a jerk and grab his hair. It'd long since escaped its neat topknot, now bunching and sliding strangely in dry heat. The pain and the change in angle made Zuko rapidly lose sight of the shadow man.

"This one's quite a specimen." The pirate tilted Zuko's head back, baring his throat—maybe as a joke; it was always hard to tell if humans knew the significance of such a display—and lifted him enough to catch the light. So their potential buyer could get a better view.

Zuko would like to rip the pirate's skin off and feed it to him, but he was weak with dehydration, and his previous struggles against the man's crew had left him exhausted. All he managed was a low hiss. If humans could understand mer speech, he’d be cursing them as soundly as possible. Someone was standing on his tail. Not that it made much difference. He doubted he could have swung it if it wasn't pinned.

"I've seen a lot of the fire mer in my day, but this one's real pretty. Don't feel bad turning the offer down. We'll keep 'im if you won't." His crew laughed. Bastards. Zuko could hear the leer in the pirate's voice. It made him dizzy with anger.

Then a low grind echoed softly, and the humans cut their chatter short. Zuko distantly registered the shadow at the table moving. What made that noise? Was it his chair? He stood, rounded the massive table, and drew closer. All Zuko could see was a dark, unfocused blob. Vaguely humanoid.

"Yeah, don't be shy! Come get a closer look!"

The fist in his hair tightened. His scalp burned. The fins all down his back shuttered, and a stinging ache began to form in his gills. He needed water. He needed to get out of here. He shouldn't have wandered so close to the shore, even if that pretty girl in blue seemed so friendly at first glance. She did sell him out to these pirate scum. He should have known way better.

Even standing an arm's length away, the lighting continued to cast shadow on the pirate's potential client. It could be reasoned, then, that Zuko and the humans around him were washed in the room's best luminance. Certainly his scar could be seen clear as day. Maybe his tail was pretty, but there were parts of him imperfect. Maybe the stranger wouldn't want to buy him for that. Maybe Zuko would be stuck with these idiot pirates forever.

A smooth voice came from the stranger. "Release him."

"Sure, sure."

The pressure on Zuko's scalp vanished. He collapsed to the cool tile with no more grace than before, even further disoriented, and with a worse headache. He grit his teeth in frustration. That bastard was still on his tail.

Cool fingers tilted his chin up before he could lift his head on his own again; he hadn't seen the shadow man crouch down. Startled, Zuko yanked back and hissed a second time. He made sure to reveal far more fang and fan far wider with his fins; he just wanted these stupid humans to stop poking and grabbing him however often they pleased. Was that too much to ask? He wasn't an ornament. And he sure as heck had no intention of being a pet.

The stranger's face was close, and shadowy, and out of focus. Zuko's head was killing him. The room spun.

"The shape of the fins—” The stranger’s voice began.

“Really something, isn’t it? Never seen a mer so fancy before.”

There was a beat of silence, then the cool fingers returned to Zuko’s jaw and held him firmly in place. He growled. It didn’t make a difference. He was exhausted and hot and vulnerable, and everyone could tell. There was no way to stop them from doing as they pleased.

“There’s a scar.”

“Wasn’t us, mate. Looks like the beast’s had it for a while. I think it adds to the aesthetic, don’t you agree?”

Zuko glared. It was the sort of one-sided remark he’d only accept from Uncle Iroh, though Azula had made attempts to express similar sentiments in that weird way of hers. He’d always hated the scar. At least the monster who put it there was dead now.

The stranger gave no comment. He reached another hand out and pushed Zuko’s hair aside, away from his eyes. Zuko did his best to meet the unfamiliar gaze as steadily as possible, despite the awkward backlight. He was being stared at. He refused to show how unnerved it made him. His trembling and fever didn’t help much in that regard.

Finally, after a dreadful length of scrutiny, the shadow man spoke. “How much do you want for him?”

Zuko could hear teeth in the pirate’s smile. “How much are you willing to pay?”

“Ten-thousand.”

Zuko didn’t know how humans calculated their currency. He’d assumed mer in general to be expensive, but they called him a stupid something fire fish, and it sounded like exotic. Even so, the pirate captain seemed shocked. He let out a high chuckle.

“Well! Show me the gold and you’ve got yourself a deal!”

The stranger waved an uninterested hand over his shoulder, and another grinding sound reverberated through the floor. Zuko couldn’t see the source of the sound with multiple different shadows clouding his vision. Judging by the pirates’ hushed tithering, their payment had been offered.

“Excellent! Pleasure doing business with you, as always.”

“Zaheera will see you out.”

The group broke formation around Zuko and floated away, whispering excitedly. Though they’d been awful to him, he couldn’t help a flicker of fear at their absence. At least with the pirates, he knew they’d avoid causing permanent damage. He knew they’d want to sell him for the highest price possible. Now, he had no idea what to expect. This stranger could have any number of sinister plans in mind; Zuko had certainly heard the horror stories. All young mer were warned about the brutality of humans, and now he was at the mercy of someone who really wanted him. This was bad.

The stranger let him go, and the world tilted as Zuko crumpled. He was very dizzy. And angry. And he really wanted to sink his fangs into human flesh.

But when he turned (against his better judgment) to snap at his new captor, a firm hand was already pushing down the back of his neck. The same way one might handle an unruly pup. Zuko was too tired to be insulted by the gesture. He wasn’t a pup anymore, but a move like that with the human’s advantage was enough to subdue even a full-grown mer.

“Watch out with that one!” The pirate’s faint voice called back. “Quite a monster at full strength. He killed two of my men when we—”

“Get out.”

The heavy thud of the door confirmed their absence, though the human didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. He ducked another snap of Zuko’s teeth, and ignored his crackly snarl, and slid his arms beneath scratchy scales. The world tilted again. Zuko would consider puking if he wasn’t so close to blacking out. The human was carrying him. Impressive. Zuko was heavy outside the water. His fins trailed the floor as they moved, but he was very much in the air, solidly in the man’s grip. Almost cradled, even if he was too big for the pup-hold to have effect a second time. The use of such familiar techniques should have rung a bell in his mind. Zuko’s headache and exhaustion wouldn’t let him dwell on it.

After a dizzying stretch, something wonderful happened. Zuko heard water. The noise was still muffled, and it faltered clarity with every stray tilt of his head, but Zuko knew what water sounded like. He’d been fantasizing about it for the past few days.

There was a splash, and with distant elation, he felt his fins trail. He wasn’t lucid enough to hold back the happy trill.

“I know.” The man huffed, and it rumbled through his chest. “I know—those bastards.”

The water rushed up around him, deliciously cool, salty, clean. It took Zuko up to his gills to realize he’d been lowered into a pool of some kind. It was shallow, but not cramped. He drew a deep breath. That felt very nice. The hands were gone.

He didn’t bother confirming he was alone before passing out soundly.

<~><><~>

Zuko was alone when he came to, and his headache had finally retreated to the realm of faint discomfort. Incredible what a good long sleep in water could do for one’s health. The pirates hadn’t put him in a tank. They were mad about what a fuss he caused the first time they brought him aboard, and they’d rightly concluded he’d be easier to handle if he was dehydrated and exhausted and dizzy. They’d doused him with lukewarm buckets every few hours, just to keep him from dying. Zuko was relieved to be back in water now. Even if trepidation about the uncertainty of his new circumstances wouldn’t let him relax.

The pool he’d been placed in was shallow; he couldn’t move without some part of his tail skimming the surface. It was still comfortable in spite of that. The edges spanned a decent length, so he could turn with ease, and the basin interior was cut from smooth, white stone. His fins shone stark against it. The pool itself seemed to be laid into the ground, flush.

Zuko scanned his surroundings while he waited for something to happen. He still seemed to be indoors. The walls here weren’t as high as the one from before—from the sale pitch—and most of them were made of a clear material. It shone with sunlight from outside. The rest of the space was occupied by greenery. The taller ones reaching the ceiling had been planted in beds in the ground, surrounded at the base with bushy, leafy shrubs, and brilliant flowers, and crawling vines. The faint sound of water also trickled through the maze, but Zuko couldn’t see the source of it from where he was. It was peaceful. Uncle would love this place.

But Zuko hadn’t forgotten how he ended up here, and he had no illusions about being treated fairly, even if he’d been left undisturbed in such a pleasant area. He had to keep his guard up. He was being held against his will. He was trapped on land with no way to escape or get home. He didn’t have much experience with humans, but so far they’d only beaten him, used him, or treated him like a pretty ornamental object, and he had no reason to believe this behavior would change soon. He had to be prepared for the worst.

In truth, he really wanted to murder someone. The urge had become so intense during his captivity with the pirates, and he hadn’t had a real outlet, being close to dying of dehydration. Now that he was rested, his jaw nearly ached to bite through bone.

He spent the time waiting for an opportunity by pacing around the pool. The space didn’t allow for much more than tight circles. Still, it was better than sitting around stewing in all his problems.

Mother was probably worried by now. Him being an adult with a life of his own didn’t stop her from worrying that he wasn’t home every day. Azula didn’t feel the same. Azula would kill for him though; she’d done it before.

Eventually, after what seemed like an hour of thinking to himself and going crazy for it, the faintest vibrations thrummed through the water, and Zuko froze. Footsteps. Someone was approaching.

He lifted his head above the surface. The sound drew closer, brushing through the plants with a practiced gait. Zuko coiled his body. There was deliberation in the person’s movement. They knew he was here. They were coming to see him. The likelihood that he’d be attacking an innocent servant or something alike was low, and that brought him a hint of reassurance.

When the human came into view, bathed in green filtered sunlight, stepping out to the pool’s edge, Zuko took an entire second to appraise the figure. Tall. Male. Dark hair, luxurious silk robes in green and pale yellow. When he spoke, it was the same smooth voice from the shadowy stranger that paid for him.

“Hello.”

Zuko didn’t wait any longer. He launched himself at the human with a vicious snarl. His vision was red. His heart was pounding. How dare they treat him with such contempt? He wasn’t some prized bounty. He wasn’t an ornament for some rich knave’s garden. He wouldn’t take this insult and abuse lying down, and if these humans continued to assume so, they were in for a shock.

To some degree of satisfaction, the man did seem shocked to be bowled over. The air left his lungs in a massive wheeze, and his eyes went very wide. He was also—however—quick. He reflexively shoved Zuko’s head away when Zuko tried to bite, and he managed to lurch free enough to dodge an elbow to the face.

“Wait!” The man yelped.

But Zuko had a size advantage, and the man was on his back, and Zuko really wanted him dead. He slammed his shoulders into the grass, pinned his legs with his tail, made another attempt to remove the throat with his teeth. This time, the man brought his arm up in a hasty block. Zuko was too busy biting down to be upset he’d missed his target. Blood and the creak of bone filled his mouth.

There was a shout of pain. “Wait wait—Zuko, stop!”

The words pierced his hazy red anger like ice through fresh snow. Zuko froze. Even being slightly feral at the taste of blood and festered indignation, he rapidly came to his senses and dropped the arm. His mind spun.

How did this man know his name? The pirates didn’t know. The pretty girl in blue didn’t know. And he wouldn’t be able to tell them if he wanted to (which he very much had not). It wasn’t a lucky guess. No one shared his name that he’d ever met. So why—how could a random human—

“Get off!” The human fumbled to shove Zuko’s face away. His sleeve was ruined, and rapidly turning red.

Zuko slowly obliged. The man didn’t seem angry. He only seemed annoyed, even as he bled profusely from an arm that might be broken. There was something unnervingly familiar about the twist of his scowl. He shuffled sideways and sat up.

“Spirits, kid, you’ve got a strong jaw.”

“I’m not—” Zuko cut himself off before he could complete the retort. The human wouldn’t understand him. The human knew he wasn’t a kid. Zuko was very obviously a full grown mer.

“You could have let me explain myself before trying to kill me.” Why did his scowl look so familiar? The man untied a sash of his fancy outfit and wrapped his arm with clinical efficiency. Then he looked up to meet Zuko’s eye, and his scowl faltered. “Are you okay?”

What.

Zuko stared. Was he seriously… asking if Zuko was okay? There was blood in the grass and in his robes and he might have a concussion and his ribs might be bruised and Zuko would at worst have a sore jaw. He shifted back warily. In his experience, crazy men often did cruel things.

When he made no move to respond, the man sighed roughly and looked away. “Guess I should have waited on that tea. Zaheera will be by with some shortly.”

“What?”

What on earth was he talking about? Tea? Of all things? How did he know Zuko’s name and why was he so relaxed about the bite on his arm and why did the slope of his nose look so familiar and why was he talking about tea in the blood and the grass?

“You were always more civil with it around.”

Okay, now Zuko was thoroughly weirded out. He wished he had an exit. An escape route. He was stuck on land in an unfamiliar house and the closest thing he had to sanctuary was a fake pool of water barely deep enough to sleep in. This was freaking him out just the slightest.

“You’re nuts.” He said. Just to say it. The man wouldn’t understand the words or the insult in them, but Zuko was sick of just sitting around not saying anything, waiting for stupid humans to come to the right conclusions.

For his effort, he was rewarded with the faintest thaw of the man’s grumpy expression. It looked amused somehow. “And why is that?” He asked.

What.

A trace of alarm made Zuko flinch. “...Because you’re… talking to me.” He probed. Just to see. Humans weren’t supposed to understand.

“Why would that make me crazy? You’re real, aren’t you?” He glanced at his sleeve, now mostly red. “I’m pretty sure you are.”

Zuko blanched. He considered backing away, back into the pool. The safety it offered was purely psychological, but it would be something at least. It’d be better than lying vulnerable on the ground next to a crazy person. His fins twitched.

“What—but—you understand me?”

“Of course.”

“But humans aren’t supposed to understand.” From what he’d heard, humans interpreted mer speech as primitive and animalistic: nothing more than a series of harsh vocalizations strung together. Zuko had demanded an explanation for the phenomenon when he was younger. After all, mer understood human speech just fine. No one was able to give him a satisfactory answer.

“Well, I’m not human.” The human said. “Technically.”

“Then what are you?” Possibly a witch? Zuko had heard of their strange abilities. Or maybe he was a spirit. In which case Zuko was screwed. He probably couldn’t get away with attempted murder on a spirit; he’d totally be cursed or something. It could also be a shapeshifter of sorts, from the myths.

But the man quickly dispelled any outlandish theories. For the first time that Zuko had seen, a flicker of hurt crossed his features. It made him look older than he likely was. Haunted.

“Wow Zuzu, you don’t remember your favorite cousin?”

No.

No, he definitely didn’t mean that. Zuko didn’t have any cousins. Not for eleven years. And there’d only been—one. Just one. Now there weren’t any.

But looking closer, Zuko could see why the scowl looked so familiar. He saw the same face in the mirror. And this man wasn’t human, clearly, even if he had legs in place of a red streaming tail. In place of the gold ribbon fins their family shared—that he must have recognized when he first saw Zuko.

He knew Zuko’s name. Zuzu. Azula tried to call him that—maybe out of nostalgia—but it belonged to them both, and Zuko hated to hear her say it because there was only one person who tried to bring them together like that, and hearing her say it reminded him of… of… a dead man.

Except he couldn’t be dead. He was right here. His blood tasted very real.

“Lu Ten?”

He looked so much like his father when he smiled. “Yeah.”

Zuko gaped. That felt like the only appropriate thing to do. Maybe the dehydration actually got to him, and this whole series of events was an elaborate hallucination. Maybe Azula spiked his tea with a psychedelic for her weird sense of humor, and he was hallucinating. It was too strange. This didn’t make any sense. Zuko’s cousin was dead, and if he wasn’t, wouldn’t Uncle know? Would Uncle have cried so hard so many private times if this was real? It felt so real.

“How did you get that scar?”

“How are you not dead?” Zuko’s head was spinning, though thankfully not from dehydration. He wasn’t sure if this was worse, actually. “Uncle thinks you’re dead.”

The comment earned him a flinch. “There’s actually a good explanation for that.”

“Which is?”

“I’m cursed.” Lu Ten squinted into the middle distance, looking uncomfortably close to being emotional. “To live as a human. And I can’t… go near the sea. I tried. It almost turned me into sea foam.”

Zuko dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

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pricklyjim · 18 days ago

Note

Sorry to ask. I was just curious about Arcee and Elita lore?

I WAS WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK THIS BEFORE I START RAMBLING!! YESSS—LET’S DO SOME LORE DROPS!!

MARRIED IN MY HEAD^^

Arcee: “If I had to re-walk into the mines and almost get crushed by a crate in order to meet you… I’d do it again without hesitation”

Elita: “and i’d run to save you a every single time…”

Origins:

Elita was a middle-caste Cybertronian, working as a mining supervisor. slightly stern, yet empathetic, and fiercely protective of her workers, bending rules to prioritize their safety while maintaining high efficiency to keep the government off her ass.

Arcee, is from the upper caste, serving as a diplomat and secretary to aid the Primes, managing peace talks, social events, and Cybertronian national affairs. She’s calm, graceful, and loyal to her duties but unfortunately very unaware of the struggles of lower-caste workers.

their meeting:

their meeting starts when Sentinel prime tasks Arcee to visit the mines to gather feedback, brushing it off as too unimportant to attend to himself.

she accepts, it’s not like she can say no, so she just gets on with it and heads down there to the most well-known mine.

there, In the mines, she’s nearly crushed by a crate of raw energon but is saved by Elita at the last second when she pushes her out the way.

Their first interaction is slightly awkward and tense: Elita questions Arcee’s presence there and her motives— saying she won’t make it long im the mines.

but Arcee insists on staying anyway, to complete her report properly, of course, much to Elitas dismay.

now working together, Arcee, over time, grows fond of Elita’s courage and compassion for others, while Elita is drawn to Arcee’s genuine desire to understand the miners’ struggles, asking them questions and even helping out when she can.

after many late-night conversations and shared drives across Cybertron, their professional relationship deepens into a friendship—and eventually, love.

first comes chatting, then comes courting, then comes:

When the caste system inevitably collapses and the Primes fall along with rodimus, the invisible social barriers keeping arcee and elita apart disappear. They confess their feelings under the sight of the shining ores in the mine and deepen their bond through a simple conjunx ceremony, alone, away from prying eyes.

siding with the Autobots:

Elita’s leadership and people organisational skills make her valuable to Orion Pax’s cause as he officially forms the Autobots, while Arcee’s diplomatic experience’s help navigate any future relations and peace talks with Megatron.

whilst the pair join the fight, Arcee also runs into Magnus!

Once reunited with Magnus, an old friend, Arcee finds ground to bond more closely in their shared work, even helping give advice and support to Magnus as he silently mourns Rodimus’s absence, trying to be a pillar of support to the mech who once looked out for her.

Through every challenge, Elita and Arcee’s love endured, and to them, as long as they’re besides one another, that makes them content, and helps them to fight for a future filled with peace and prosperity.

[jims note]

I wanted them together because although I love seeing optimus and elita together, SHE NEVERRR GETS A HAPPYYYYY ENDING, like DUDE- give her a break!!! 😭

plus I wanted elita to love and fall in love with someone who is able to give her that much love back and more and be fulfilled, and also to be a beacon of happiness in a story with one relationship that’s essentially a man who misses his dead situationship and another who is having to deal with loving a poet/now turned sad dictator.

Plus they’re cute :)

#ask jim #elita #arcee #my favourite healthy happy couple #i love them sm

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shalomniscient · 6 months ago

Note

jingliu angst where she only tolerates you cus u remind her of baiheng sjjahagsab im dead

[nsft utc]

tw. mentions of vomiting (?), unhealthy/toxic dynamic, identity loss

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps.

it began back on your home planet, ravaged and carved by interastral powers of all its resources, leaving behind a gnawing, gaping hole in the ground and the hearts and bellies of its people. you once mourned your more normal childhood—but the hunger in your stomach and in your soul consumed that too. your meals were few and far between, snatched from the hands of other starving husks, and it was the only joy you ever had as a child. the trickery and the thrill. it’s the only joy you get to keep into adulthood, a twisted elation that grants you a place in the cosmic court of jesters; the masked fools.

it’s—predictably—fun. trickery and thrill are the bread and butter of the fools. your mask affords you many, many opportunities for both, and though you have never had your belly achingly empty since, that hunger in your soul is not so easily sated. now, what you crave is the rush, the adrenaline, the oxytocin. and so you dance on marble floors with a different face each time, with partners who either wish you dead or in their beds, the space between you measured in an unfathomable amount of risk which you exchange for an unfathomable amount of thrill. you scamper along the length of this cosmic ballroom like a starving, feral fox in tall grass, the red of your fur as inviting as the white of your teeth are sharp. you hunt and you haunt, seeking something to fit between your aching teeth, something that will burst on the sharp point of your canines and smear your lips with pure elation and maybe satisfy that abyssal hunger in your psyche.

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps.

and you have never seen more tantalizing a meal than a devil with a coffin and a woman who seeks to kill a god. she holds the tip of a ice-hewn blade beneath your chin the first time you meet, nicking the delicate skin of your neck, just above your pulse. you swallow. let out a laugh that sounds like a barking fox, and the woman’s sword falters. surprisingly, it doesn’t take much for you to convince her to let you tag along on her fool’s errand. it’s almost poetic. you learn of her name—jingliu. it’s pretty. rolls off your tongue. jingliu doesn’t bother to learn yours, but she calls you fox. you don’t mind the scrap of attention. after all, you’ve spent your whole life living off scraps.

travelling with jingliu (and by extension, luocha) does not lack for excitement. the road to deicide is paved with elation, even if your blue-haired companion refuses to see it. through battle and through the long travel between star systems in pursuit of the great fleet, you get somewhat closer to jingliu. it doesn’t take very long for you to slip into her bedroll (or cot, depending where you are). mara, you find, though cannot be cured can certainly be sated; much like the permanent hunger that curls in your belly. jingliu fucks you until neither of you are coherent enough to feel much of anything, madness or hunger. it’s an arrangement you find yourself enjoying. and as a by-product of such intimacy, you learn more about jingliu. her mannerisms, her illness—her past. she doesn’t tell you any of this, of course, but you can put two and two together from the things she lets slip deep in the throes of some nightmare after fucking you senseless. she gets many of those. the pattern is always the same. at first, she’ll sleep relatively soundly. but then, her brow creases, and her lip curls, and she angrily mutters a few names under her breath; a certain dan feng and yingxing. she curses them, then almost makes a noise like a sob, and something else leaves her lips— another name, but this time spoken with heartache and longing.

baiheng.

it doesn’t take much to infer that this baiheng was someone jingliu cared very much about. though when you ask luocha more about her, he reveals a little detail that makes her moderately more interesting—baiheng was a foxian. in some ways, that makes you similar to her, even though foxian you are not. the thought amused you once, as you looked back upon jingliu’s restless, sleeping form. perhaps jingliu saw her lost lover in you. how… quaint. the assumption never bother you, not really—until she starts to call for baiheng while she’s fucking you.

you’re no stranger to casual sex. even before jingliu, you never lacked for partners eager to share a bed with you. no, the fucking itself isn’t the problem—it’s how she’s fucking you. it isn’t with the detachment and pure lust like you’re used to. instead it’s almost like she cares, hands gentle on your hips as she drives her cock in and out of your greedy cunt. she fills you like she never wants for you to want for anything anymore, and even though you know it isn’t you this affection is for, that jingliu is barely even aware that you’re you and not baiheng, you can’t help but devour it feverishly every time.

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps. and like this, with jingliu’s cock filling your pussy as she deliriously presses the shape of a dead woman’s name against your neck, you finally feel full.

and it makes you sick.

you crawl out of her embrace and spill your guts every time she falls asleep. your body utterly rejects the feeling—you’ve been so used to starving that the sensation of being full turns you ill. and yet, you can’t seem to push her away. you always come back, always relax under her touch, always pliant for her just to chase that brief, beautiful high you’ve never been able to find anywhere else only to bleed it once she’s done. your heart’s a pythagorean cup; a little too much and you’re spilling over. but you’re so greedy for it, still greedy for her. of all things it is affection that’s the most potent drug you’ve ever tasted, beyond the cheap thrill of oxytocin and adrenaline—even if none of it is meant for you, even if it’s just scraps. but that’s fine.

after all—you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps. and if that means wearing the face of a dead woman and letting the hunger finally devour you whole, then so be it.

#sev.responses #[nsft]#sev.thirsts #jingliu x reader #jingliu #not rlly a thirst but it has some nsft so thirst it is #listen i. dont know what happened here #where does luocha go while u n jl r getting it on ?? fuck if i know #also this was so much more reader focused than jl focused andjdjsjsn sorry anon #reader is kinda abnormal here lmao #tried to do smtg with themes but shsksks idk if it worked. i feel like it didnt but i will allow the court of public opinion to decide #my fav line in here is the pythagorean cup one im ngl #ANYWAY thats enough yap from me it is 0302 i need to be unconscious #also idk if i need to tw this for anything else but if i do pls lmk

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arjwrites · 6 months ago

Note

— Good to know bc im here to request another Castiel x Winchester!reader (oldest sister) hehehehe...

Remember when Castiel became a human and that reaper April used him? I was thinking about the reader in her place, where she ACTUALLY likes Cas and takes care of him. The reader really loves him and doesn't care that he's a human now with no angel powers, he's still the man/angel she loves and care (I'm still mad that Dean kicked Cass out of the bunker)

It's his first time being human, he deserves some love 😞 (And I rlly need some comfort aughhh)

I think I wrote too much, sorry! It's just that I really love human Castiel, he deserved more ❤️‍🩹 — 👼 angel anon

Lessons on Humanity- Human!Castiel x Reader

Summary: Human!Cas arrives on your doorstep in need of a helping hand. Taking him under your wing, you offer him more than he bargained for.

Warnings: None (I don't think???) GN!Reader, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Well, this took forever. Idk why this gave me the WORST case of writer's block ever, but.... I think I just wanted it to be perfect for you, angel anon!!! I hope you enjoy hehehehehe <3333

Leaving hunting behind had been a tough decision, but leaving your brothers and Castiel behind had been even harder. But after all the years, your body screamed for rest, and your heart mourned the years of loss and trauma. It wasn’t like you had completely up and abandoned them- you still took their calls, visited the bunker from time to time, and took on many a research request (which had always been your specialty anyways). But you had grown so tired of the life. And as much as moving into the bunker had been a massive improvement from the endless series of motel rooms you’d grown up with, living in a concrete man-cave with your brothers had proven difficult. And you had always craved a home- somewhere that could be uniquely yours. This had led you to settle down into a sweet cottage, a bit off the beaten path in a quaint little town- not too far from the bunker, but far enough. It was cozy, nothing fancy by any means- two small bedrooms, a slightly outdated kitchen, and a snug little living room you had furnished with thrifted couches and a secondhand TV. What it lacked in elegance, it made up for in character. It wasn’t much, but it was home.

It was a Friday night. You had just gotten off work, ordered a pizza, popped your favorite playlist in your speakers, and were currently dancing around and vacuuming your living room. Ah, domesticities. It was always a nice feeling to be done for the weekend, to have a job you could hang up for a few days and not worry about until Monday morning rolled around. Not like hunting, with its worries that clung tight to you all hours of every day. After finishing your cleaning task, you flopped to the couch, clicking through the TV to find a suitable show to binge alongside your food.

Two crisp knocks at the door pulled you from your search. That was quick, you thought to yourself. You practically skipped to the kitchen to grab your purse, wanting to hand the delivery driver a few extra dollars for the particularly speedy service. But when you swung the door open, more than just the chilly evening air sent a wave of shock your way.

“Oh my God,” was about all you could whisper. In front of you stood Castiel, though he didn’t look much like his usual self. He wore a sweatshirt you didn’t recognize and had a slightly unkempt, unshaven look to him. But beyond his appearance, it didn’t feel like Cas. His shoulders were slumped over as if he was carrying the weight of them for the first time. He wore an expression so tired, so hurt, that your heart broke at the sight of it.

“Cas, honey. What happened?”

“I don’t have my grace. I… lost it. They told me I couldn’t stay. I didn’t want to bother you, but… I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Oh, Cas. Come in, God, come in.” Your brow furrowed as you gestured for him to enter, concern filling your body. What had you missed? Why didn’t he have his grace? Why wasn’t he with Sam and Dean?

Cas gingerly stepped through your door, barely making it inside the threshold before turning to you, as if he was waiting to follow your lead.

“Come, come sit,” you beckoned him after you, leading him into the living room and patting a seat for him on the couch. He sat, glancing around your room before landing his gaze back to you. You could tell there was something different about him- it was like he was seeing everything around him for the first time.

“So tell me what happened, Cas,” you hummed, gathering every ounce of soothing calm you could muster in hopes you could offer him some comfort.

Cas jumped into his story, telling you all about Metatron, the angels, and him losing his grace- all the things you had missed out on since stepping back from hunting. You nodded along, listening intently, compassionately, quietly- that is, until he told you about the events that lead him to your doorstep.

“He kicked you OUT?” You rose to your feet as he said this, unable to contain your anger in your seated posture. You felt the rage bubble from the deepest part of your stomach, rising quickly to your chest. Poor, sweet Castiel, who tries so hard and deserves so much. Cast out like he was nothing. It was enough to drive you into a blind rampage. Cas, on the other hand, remained seated, eyes fixed to the carpet, dejected.

“I just don’t know what to do. I have all these… feelings I’m not used to.”

“Of course you don’t, honey. It’s all so new. I’ll help you figure things out, alright?” You thought for a moment about what may be most urgent. “Cas, how long have you been human for?”

“Well, a few days now.”

“And have you eaten? Drank water? Slept?”

“I had a candy bar.”

“Oh, you poor thing, Cas. Look… Sit tight, I’m going to get you a glass of water, and I have food on the way. Do you like pizza? No, you don’t know if you like pizza, do you…” You let your voice trail off as you hustled to the kitchen, fixing him a glass of water and returning it to him hastily.

Cas lifted the glass, inspecting it, before tipping it back and downing it in one go. You watched the water slide out of the cup, disappearing down his throat in record time. There was one basic need supported.

“Alright, Cas, why don’t you sit there and relax for a little? I’m going to go make up the guest bedroom for you. Is that alright?” You tilted your head to the side to better gauge his thoughts on the matter. Cas returned you a soft smile and nodded. You let out a subtle puff of breath in relief before retreating up the stairs.

As you grabbed bedding from the linen closet and began to stretch the fitted sheet over the mattress, you couldn’t help but allow your body to take over the menial routine, while your mind fluttered off elsewhere. The angry pit in your stomach persisted, a deepening disgust for the way the angel had been treated, including by your brothers, of all people. But nestled in your chest above your swirling stomach sat your heart, which swelled at the thought of Cas, here with you. In all honesty, he had always meant a lot to you. You had so much admiration, so much reverence for the angel- of course, now that he wasn’t exactly an angel, that didn’t change anything. That was never what it was about. You saw deeper than just Cas’s angelic power- you saw him. Grace or not, there was no changing that. This was still the same angel, the same man, the same being you had always known. Only now, he really needed someone to be there for him. And you intended to do that- slowly, surely, gently.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your name being called from down the stairs. Instantly, your mind snapped to the worst-case scenario- call it a lingering hunter’s instinct. You raced down the stairs, only to find Cas perched on the couch, exactly where you had left him.

“Someone knocked on the door,” he whispered wide-eyed, as if it was some sort of intruder behind the door, waiting politely to be let in so he could go about his business.

You breathed a sigh of relief, willing yourself not to get frustrated at the poor man- he had no idea. Scared, lost, confused Castiel.

“It’s just the pizza, sweetheart. Don’t worry,” you replied, giving him a soft smile of encouragement.

With the pizza paid for, food on your plates, and your favorite mindless comfort show on TV, you and Cas began to settle in for the night. You and Cas. It was insane to see the angel in such a domestic setting. The two of you were sat at opposite ends of the couch, nibbling pizza in silent unison. You weren’t sure what to do or say, overwhelmed by Cas’s newfound presence, heartbroken by the things he had experienced, and overall just worried for his wellbeing. But, out of fear of pushing his limits- he had already been through so much the last few days- you fell into a comfortable silence that padded the space between you.

That silence was broken by a yawn coming from the other end of the couch. Cas’s face contorted in a decidedly un-angelic expression, before drawing inwards in confusion. A giggle inched its way towards your lips, but you suppressed it.

“You must be tired, Cas. Let’s go up to bed,” you hummed. Quickly and efficiently, you snapped off the TV, balanced your drinking glasses and plates on top of the pizza box, and slid everything into its rightful place in the kitchen. Re-emerging to the living room, you extended a hand to Cas, pulling him up to his feet before turning to lead him up the stairs.

“This is your room, over here,” you pointed, ducking in the door to show him around. You snapped the bedside lamp on to illuminate the space. “The bathroom is just down the hall if you need to use it. And my room is just next door, if you need anything at all.”

Cas’s eyes scanned the room before settling back on you. He threw a tight-lipped smile, murmuring his thanks. He was bashful, certainly overwhelmed by the avalanche of human emotion and sensation he was experiencing. You really didn’t want to push it, but there was one more thing you wanted to offer him.

Crossing the room, you pulled Cas into a hug. You felt his hands hover for a moment before he rested them across the middle of your back.

“I’m sorry, Cas. You didn’t deserve any of this. But I’m here to help you, whatever you need, okay? You deserve to have someone be there for you.” It was a desperate plea for the man to recognize his self-worth, to provide him with a bit of comfort during this terrifying transition. Your words weighed heavy in the room, anticipating a response that never came. But, you could’ve sworn you felt Cas’s shoulders dip and the muscles of his back soften into the hug.

After a minute, you pulled away, snapping back to your lighthearted self. You wished the man a good night, retreating from the room and closing the door behind you. Crossing the hall and tucking yourself into bed, it wasn’t long before you drifted to sleep.

You rose early the next morning. Usually, you would stroll downstairs in your bathrobe or whatever mismatched pajamas you slept in, but this morning you hopped in the shower straight away, dressing and fixing your hair. Once you made your way down to the kitchen, you got to work pulling together a breakfast you thought Cas would enjoy- pancakes, bacon, and some fruit, all while brewing a pot of coffee. You weren’t sure he’d have much of a taste for it yet, but you certainly were in need of a cup.

As you neared the end of your preparation, you heard the guest bedroom door swing open. Cas descended the stairs into the kitchen, somehow looking slightly more disheveled than when he had arrived on your doorstep the night before.

“Good morning, sunshine!” You offered, hoping he would take it in jest.

“Hello,” he responded. His eyes were puffed with sleep, his hair stuck up in every possible direction, face dotted with yesterday’s stubble that was inching into scruffy beard territory. Looking at him was a clear reminder that you needed to help him figure out how to clean himself up today.

“How’d you sleep, hun?” In any other conversation, this would be a simple pleasantry, but in this case, it was an earnest inquiry.

“Not well. I think I had a dream. It was terrible,” he replied. His gaze remained vacant.

“A dream?” You thought for a moment- was it the sensation of dreaming that he wasn’t used to? Or was it a nightmare? “Tell me about it, Cas.”

“Well, I don’t remember a lot of it. I just remember I was running. And when I woke up, my heart was pounding and I was sweating and I couldn’t breathe. But I didn’t actually run- just in the dream.”

“Oh, Cas, honey, you had a nightmare.” You approached him, reaching up a hand to run a thumb over his stubbled cheek. “If that ever happens again, you can always come into my room. I’m right next door.”

“How will that help?” He inquired.

“Well, sometimes it’s nice to talk about it, if you want. Or, sometimes it’s just nice to be around someone else, so you don’t feel like you’re facing it alone.”

His nod in response sent a surge of care through your body. Rather than sitting there, gushing over him, you figured you’d channel your worry into something productive- getting him fed.

“Well, I made some breakfast. Have a seat, I’ll make you a plate.”

You pulled out a chair for him at the table, gesturing for him to sit down, before scrambling to pull together a plate piled high with a stack of pancakes, a few slices of bacon, and some strawberries and bananas you had carefully sliced. You rested the plate in front of him, giving him a minute to inspect it, before returning to grab food for yourself.

“Well, what do you think? I figured chocolate chip pancakes would be a safe bet. Everyone likes chocolate chip pancakes.”

Castiel clumsily sliced another bite from the pancake, lifting it to his mouth. He chewed pensively, mulling over the question.

“How do I know if I like it?”

You thought for a moment.

“Good question. Does it make you feel happy?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Well, Cas, I think you’ll find that one of the great joys of humanity is the opportunity to figure out what makes you happy. We don’t get a lot of say in what goes on down here, but we do get to pick our favorite foods, favorite colors, favorite people, and fill our lives with those. It’s the small pleasures that make the difference.”

He considered your words for a moment, before spearing another bite with his fork. You giggled to yourself. It was adorable to watch him navigate the things you took for granted with so much fascination and uncertainty- something as small as taking a bite of food required all of his concentration and contemplation.

As you sipped your coffee, you considered the task that lay before you. It was your job to teach Cas how to be human- something you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself an expert on. With hunting dominating your upbringing and occupation thus far, you certainly hadn’t had the normal human experience. But you took the challenge in stride, knowing that Cas had much to learn.

Saturday had come and gone. You had spent the entire day teaching Cas a crash course in human life skills, covering important topics like brushing your teeth (which proved more difficult than you thought it would be), remembering to drink water (you struggled with this yourself most of the time), shopping (the two of you thrifted him a whole wardrobe), and anything else you could think of as you went about your usual routine.

As the day wound down, you and Cas sat on your back porch. The emerging twilight buzzed, and a warm breeze filtered through the trees and wrapped itself around the two bodies curled up in the lawn chairs. You were tired, he was tired, so another comfortable silence had settled into its now familiar place between the two of you. You could faintly hear the sound of children laughing and a mother calling after them, voices muffled by the distance that separated you from these neighbors down the street. You smiled to yourself, and Cas took notice.

“Thank you for helping me today,” he offered hesitantly, as if afraid to disturb your thoughts.

“Anytime, Cas.” You were still a bit lost in thought as you responded.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm?”

“Why does being human feel so… Heavy?”

There was something about his tone of voice that snapped you out of your daze. Turning to him, you instantly recognized the worry that was weighing on him.

“I just… I used to be a soldier. I had divine purpose. I’ve always had something to work towards, and now… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“Life is a complicated thing, Cas. Most people spend an entire lifetime figuring out their purpose. You may be thousands of years old, but you’ve only been doing the whole human thing for a few days. Be patient with yourself.”

“You seem to handle it all pretty well. Leaving hunting, making a life for yourself. You have it all figured out,” he frowned.

“Want to know a secret?”

He nodded, silently, eagerly.

“I’m not handling it well. And I don’t have it all figured out. Nobody does. That’s the whole game. That’s life. You take what you’re given and you do what you can with it. But the beauty is, you get to choose.”

“How do I know what to choose?”

You smiled in spite of yourself.

“That’s the big question. No one knows what’s right for you except you.”

Cas’s hand reached across to yours, giving it a squeeze that sent your heart aflutter. Fingers intertwined, you settled back into the evening, pensive.

Sleep that night hadn’t come easy by any means. What had started as worry had now spiraled into full-on anxiety, warding you away from slipping into sleep. Each time you closed your eyes, your mind drifted down the hall to Castiel, separated from you by nothing more than a dozen footsteps and couple pieces of drywall. It was as if you could feel his inner turmoil. And beyond that, your heart ached for the man. All you wanted to do was go to him, be with him, comfort him. But the fear that you were taking advantage of his newly human state still plagued you, so you lingered rigid and sleepless in your bed. Just as you rolled over to attempt comfort and hopefully find some sleep, there was the faintest knock at your door- so quiet, you barely registered it.

At first, you weren’t sure if you had actually heard the sound, but when the noise was followed by slow footsteps shuffling away, you snapped up in bed.

“Cas! Come in,” you called. After a second, the door swung open.

“I had another one. A nightmare.” Cas spoke matter of factly, and yet, very soft and reserved. He lingered in your doorway, timid, waiting for you to give your blessing on his entrance.

“Oh, come in, sweetheart. Come sit.” You patted the space beside you, the noise muffled by the thick, fluffy comforter. Cas made his way into a seated position on the bed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, hesitant to pry but insistent on providing support.

“No.” His response was tense and succinct without being rude- you knew he was processing a lot of feelings, and wanted to give him grace.

“That’s okay. Would you like some time to think through it? Or would you like to be distracted?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Take your time. I’m here.”

There was a beat of silence. Giving him space was your top priority, as much as you wanted to leap across the bed and into his arms.

“Maybe, distracted?”

“Sure thing. I’ll put on a movie, we can watch for a bit.” You snatched the remote from the table beside you, flipping through a few movies you thought Cas may enjoy, before settling on a lighthearted Disney movie. Your finger pressed play and adjusted the volume to a dull hum.

You watched for a while in silence. As the movie was picking up, breaking out into a cheerful musical number, your eyes darted to Cas. Expecting to see him enamored by the animated wonderland, you were taken aback when his eyes locked with yours instantly. It was like he had been looking at you the whole time.

“Hey, Cas.” He wouldn’t look away, and the eye contact was entrancing.

“Hi.” His voice was gruff, a mix of sleep and something else you weren’t entirely sure of, though you were starting to get an idea.

“How are you doing?”

“Better, now. Because I’m with you.” His words sent a wave of warmth through your body as you felt yourself inching closer to him, subconsciously. Clearly, he felt the same pull, as you both shifted to face each other directly.

“Can I ask you about another feeling?” He was usually bashful with his questions, but this time, his voice was steady. His eyes were fixed on you with an almost palpable intensity, a kind of focus that made you fidget, suddenly so aware of yourself.

“Of course,” you responded. He was now just inches away from your face.

“What is this feeling I get when I’m this close to you?” His words were slow and genuine, and yet in some ways, it seemed like he already knew.

“What do you mean?”

“It feels a lot like the nightmare. My heart beats fast and I can’t breathe. But it’s… Different. It’s good. I like it.” His eyes flickered as the words melted you.

He was so close to your face you could feel each breath tickle your nose and lips, as if pressing gentle precursors to tease you into taking the next step.

“Can I try something else you might like?” You could barely speak above a whisper.

He began to nod, lifting his head, but before he could complete the motion, all your defenses came crashing down, and you melted together- lips and limbs intertwining as one. And for the first time since becoming human, Castiel truly felt peace.

There’s something special about humanity. Sure, it has its ups and downs. There’s pain, fear, grief, death. Cas knew all those things already. They were what scared him most when he lost his grace. But he could have never known this, without experiencing it for himself.

The early hours of the morning crept into the bedroom. Everything about the room was warm and soft- a kind of heaven that rivaled even the real thing. Cas watched as the rays of sun slipped through the window to kiss your skin softer, sweeter, more intimately than he ever had. Yet.

There were many things about being human he hadn’t been prepared for. He had lost purpose, drive, direction. When he was first stripped of his grace, it had felt like his newfound heartbeat was mocking him with every pulse. But now? That heart served to pump more than just blood through his veins. His heart beat for you. His whole angelic life, he had been guided by divine word, but nothing had ever felt as holy as you, here, sleeping in his arms. You had taught him humanity, alright. And now, he finally had the chance to do something, to feel something, to experience something more beautiful than he could’ve ever imagined. He could love you.

Cas let the sounds of your breathing lull him back to sleep.

#castiel x reader #castiel x y/n #castiel x you #supernatural reader insert #castiel #castiel reader insert #castiel x gn!reader #supernatural gn!reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural x gn!reader #supernatural oneshot #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #castiel fanfiction #human!cas #human!castiel #human!cas x reader #cas x reader

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demonic0angel · 18 days ago

Note

Im gonna toss some angst your way.

********************

"He took him from me. Made us a me. And he gets to live."

"Jazz you still have your whole future ahead of you. If you-"

"My future. What future? My future was supposed to be with him."

(This is quite funny bc I have an unfinished one-shot where Jason dies and Jazz goes absolutely apeshit to revive him lmaooo)

Danny looked at the ground. He was silent for a moment before he then said, “Jazz. I know that this is hard for you. But he wouldn’t appreciate it if you threw your life away for him.”

Jazz snorted coldly. “Don’t bother stopping me unless you’re going to kill me. I love you, Danny, but Jason was mine. Now that he’s dead again, how will he rest in peace if his murderer goes unpunished? He was revived once. I can help him do it again.”

Danny closed his eyes. His form flickered from black to white and white to black. Eventually, he said, “Okay. I won’t stop you. I’ll help you, alright? If you want to avenge him, you’ll need alibis and excuses so Batman won’t come after you. I won’t kill you, Jazz.”

She stared at him as he met her eyes with determination and sadness. Eventually, she just nodded, softening before reaching out to hold him. “Thank you, little brother. I’m sorry that you have to break the rules for me.”

“Please, if I had choose between you or being the Ghost King, I’d choose you every time,” he whispered, hugging her back.

They eventually pulled away and Danny said, “So what are we doing first?”

Jazz gave a cold smile, her eyes sharpening with hatred and rage.

“First, you’ll help me by researching how to revive Jason. Once we figure out a way, we’ll hunt down Jason’s murderer and then revive him after. Sound like a plan?”

Danny gave a nod.

Never let it be said that Jazz was not protective of her own. For a moment, he mourned his big sister’s innocence before he shook it off as Jazz mumbled more plans to herself, pacing back and forth.

All he needed to do was help her. And soon, she would be back to her usual cheerful, bright self.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #jazz fenton #anon ask #danny fenton #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jason x jazz #danny is the ghost king #ty for the ask!#phantom family

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azrielslightintheshadows · 1 year ago

Note

I have an idea!

Y/n has always been in love with Az since they were young (they’re mate but he doesn’t know) but he pushed her feelings aside because he was in love with Mor. Y/n always paid him attention and did everything the would please him. However, she was under the mountain with Rhys for 50 years. When she came back and found that Az is now falling for Elain, she’s changed into a different person. She is cold and tired of chasing after him and now just doesn’t give a fck anymore. Az realizes what he is losing and has to grovel hard to get his mate back.

Im so sorry if this is long😂 it’s just my 4am brain going wild.

Alive.

Azriel x f!Reader

Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse, trauma, death and scars.

Masterlist

Oof this took way too long to write. I think this is my favorite request. I tried to follow the whole plot. I hope you enjoy it!

You loved your family more than your heart could handle, but you couldn’t go back right away. After you and Rhysand were freed from Amarantha thanks to the human girl -Feyre, you hugged him and said your goodbye.

“Rhys I’m sorry, I can’t go back yet… I need some time to mourn all the years that I lost…. I… I need some time to find myself.” Tears were streaming down your face. Rhys was looking at you with a pained expression, he understood where all this was coming from, he understood your trauma, so with a kiss on your forehead he said his goodbye and winnowed to Velaris -probably.

You were staring at the house of wind, your thoughts running to the past, when you and Rhys separated you found shelter in the day court, Helion was going through the same trauma too, so you helped each other. Another reason why you didn’t want to come back though was the shadowsinger of the night court. You met him a while after he had won the blood rite and immediately fell for him, you thought that you were meant to be together and when the mating bond snapped for you, everything made sense and your feelings towards him only grew. But it didn’t snap for him, and he didn’t have feelings for you… you spent the next years watching him pinning after Mor and when you had enough and told him how you felt he brushed you off and became distant. You kept caring for him though, pleasing him became your obsession, and he would smile at you, thank you and become distant again. You took a deep breath and called Rhys in your mind, in a blink he appeared in front of you and engulfed you in his arms.

“I missed you so much” he whispered.

“I missed you too” your eyes watered.

“Let’s get you to the house of wind everyone should be there at this time” you nodded, and he picked you up, his wings emerging from darkness, and you were off into the sky. You landed and you couldn’t hold the giggles back, it had been a while since the last time you flew, and you missed it. Cassian probably heard your giggles and ran outside, a shocked expression on his face that turned into tears as he picked you up and span you around.

“You’re back” he boomed and tightened his hold on you. “You’re back… you’re back” he repeated. Cassian always considered you his little sister, the friendship you two always had was special. You couldn’t hold back the tears as you kept whispering “I love you” to him.

After a while he let go of you and you walked inside, Mor and Amren were standing, their faces decorated with bright smiles. Feyre was behind them and she stared at you like she had seen a ghost, you had appeared in her cell under the mountain a couple of times to ease her pain and kept yourself hidden in the crowd when she would be let out. You didn’t want her to recognise you in case someone found out that you were helping her, so now that she saw you again, she knew she wasn’t dreaming back then. You glanced at the table, two females were sitting there, one had a hard expression on her face and the other a sweet smile. Azriel was sitting next to the second one his eyes wide as he saw you. “Hey” you breathed and chuckled when Mor and Amren jumped on you, Cassian’s arms were instantly on your waist to keep you from falling backwards. “We missed you so much” Mor cried. What shocked you though was Amren’s teary eyes, you had never seen her showing any emotion.

“I’m glad you’re back girl” she said and hurried off somewhere -probably to hide her tears.

You glanced at Feyre with a smile, you didn’t want her to thank you, so you nodded and she understood, “Welcome back” she smiled.

“This is my oldest sister Nesta, and this is the middle one Elain.” She continued and the girls nodded in greeting. “Nice to meet you I’m y/n one of the bastards in this group” you chuckled and pointed to Cass and Azriel. The shadowsinger was still frozen in his spot.

“Tough crowd” you muttered to Rhys when they didn’t laugh.

“You’re back…” Azriel’s voice made everyone whip their heads towards him.

“I think we established that” you replied, and he blushed. You expected his shadows to appear and cover his face, but they didn’t. Weird. You thought.

Cassian broke the silence “I think we should have a party today, to welcome you back…... like the old days”.

“Oh no, I’m not in the mood for a party” you groaned. “Okay then just us, a few bottles of wine and snacks” he pushed, his eyes were pleading you and your heart broke. “Okay” you replied with a soft smile.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“So, Cassian and Nesta are mates and Elain is Lucien’s mate?” you asked Mor. She was currently sitting on your bed watching you unpack your stuff and telling you what you had missed.

“Yes, but Azriel is courting her and I think she likes him too” Mor rolled her eyes. You froze. Azriel pinning after Mor was something you came into terms with and accepted as the reason he didn’t have feelings for you. But now… turns out you weren’t enough for him. He wasn’t obsessed with Mor he just didn’t have anyone better to pursue. And that hurt. Fuck him, I went through enough under the mountain I won’t let him hurt me again. I’m done. You decided and ignored the pain in your chest.

“Mor… let’s go to Rita’s tomorrow it has been a while since I had a male in my bed” you told her and she cheered.

You stared at your old clothes, the scandalous dresses you used to wear when you visited the court of nightmares, the leathers you wore in battle, and the leggings and crop tops you used to wear in training. The girl that wore those was cheerful, kind and cared about others so much that she would put them above herself. That girl was dead, she died under the mountain, Amarantha killed her and although Rhys tried to save her, keep her from harm’s way he couldn’t. You picked a tight pair of pants and a crop top. The scars you got from Amarantha’s guards on display, whenever Rhysand wouldn’t do something she asked him to she would torture you until he broke. You didn’t accuse him for it, when he would find you later that day with tears streaming down his face you would tell him that everything is fine and he would fall asleep in your arms, only then he would stop sobbing.

You shook your head and headed to the main room, 4 bottles of wine were placed on the table and bowls filled with snacks around them. Mor and Amren were sitting in front of the fireplace, Rhysand on the armchair next to them with Feyre on his lap, Cassian and Nesta on the big sofa and Azriel with Elain on the ground in front of them. Azriel stared at you, and you ignored him taking a seat next to Mor and grabbing one glass of wine. No one questioned you about where you have been, you saw the glances at your scarred abdomen but still no one dared to say anything. You were talking with Mor and Amren when Azriel cleared his throat, the sound way too close. You slowly turned your head towards him, he wasn’t across the room anymore, he was standing right next to you, so close that you could feel his warmth, you glanced up to him. “Can we talk?” he asked, his hands behind his back and a sad look on his face.

“Yes, what is it?” you replied with a bored look.

“Alone” he was panicking.

“Oh, then no” you smiled.

He blinked, he didn’t expect that, he was used to you saying yes to everything he wanted. And now not only did you say no to him, but you also returned to the conversation you were having with Mor completely unbothered.

“Please” he spoke again and this time his voice was breaking.

“Azriel… as you can clearly see I’m having a conversation right now. Please stop interrupting and get back to your seat, I will come to you when I’m done” The polite smile on your face told him everything he needed to know, you weren’t mad, you just didn’t care anymore, you were done. He gulped and nodded. Cassian placed his hand on Azriel’s shoulder and pulled him back, he guided him to the hall. “What are you doing?” Cassian growled.

“It’s none of your business” Azriel growled back. The shadowsinger’s eyes were challenging him and Cassian pushed him against the wall.

“We just got her back I won’t let you scare her away or hurt her, if you want to get your dick wet sweet Elain will gladly let you. Back the fuck off” Cassian’s voice was lethal, he had never used this tone on his brother. Azriel was fuming, he flared his wings against the wall to get some force and pushed the warlord back.

“It’s not like that and you fucking know it” he hissed. “I just saw her again after all this time… I fucking love her and she is so cold to me that I think I will go mad”.

“Well, it’s too late now, she clearly doesn’t care about you like that anymore so let her go” Cassian pushed him off and left.

When they returned you sent Cassian a questioning look, but he brushed you off, Azriel was seething. When Mor finished the story she was telling you about a girl she met you walked up to Azriel. “I’m available now”.

He got up and gestured you to follow him, Cassian growled. What’s happening? You thought.

He entered his room and waited for you before closing the door.

“Trying to get me into your bed shadowsinger?” you quirked your brow.

“Would you like that?” he asked, and you almost choked on air. “I will pass” you replied.

“How have you been?” he was fidgeting.

“You brought me here to ask that?” you rolled your eyes “Fine I guess, still healing”.

“Did I do something?” he stared at you. “No, why?” “You are ignoring me and whenever I try to approach you I find a cold wall” he replied. “Everything’s fine can I go now?” you shrugged. “Y/n please…” he stopped.

“Please what?” you snapped. He couldn’t look at you, his scarred arms were hidden behind his back and for the first time since you arrived his shadows emerged, most of them covered their master and the rest came to you, slithering around your body and caressing your cheek. “There you are” you giggled and lifted your hand, they happily circled around your wrist and some nested into your palm. Azriel had a soft look on his face at the sight. And then two things happened, two things that he would remember for the rest of his life.

The bond snapped.

And Elain burst in with an annoyed look on her face, making you flinch and then scoff before leaving his room.

You didn’t go back to the main room, you weren’t in the mood anymore, so you entered your bedroom and locked the door. You promised you wouldn’t let him hurt you again and yet here you are alone in your room feeling an ache in your chest. Everything’s fine I will go out with Mor tomorrow and I will forget about him. And with that thought you fell asleep.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Morning came faster than you would like and with a groan you headed to the dining room to get breakfast. Mor, Cassian, Nesta and Elain were already there, you took a seat next to Mor and a plate filled with food appeared in front of you. Elain was glaring at you, you brushed her off and started eating. She scoffed.

“What?” you asked before slamming your fork on the table making her flinch, you smirked.

“Couldn’t you just stay wherever you were? Why did you have to come back and destroy everything?” she asked, her voice breaking and tears streaming down her face.

“Oh please who are you to ask me why I returned to my home? I was here way too long before you, so please shut up. I’m not planning to steal your pretty boyfriend. I couldn’t care less about him or you.” You chuckled and picked up your fork again completely dismissing her.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t want him, he wants you.” She whispered. This piqued your interest and you glanced at her. “He left me yesterday” she continued.

“You will find someone else” you shrugged, and she scoffed before leaving. “Ouch” Cassian said, and you giggled. Nesta had a hard look on her face, but she didn’t dare to speak, she knew what you meant to the inner circle, and she didn’t want to cause any more trouble.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Evening found you in your room with Mor, both of you spent the day there with a bottle of wine. You were both drunk so getting dressed for your night out took way more time than it normally would.

You hadn’t noticed the dress you picked until you were ready and didn’t have time to change. It was a short blue dress the same shade as Azriel’s siphons. Your back was bare, and the low cut showed off your cleavage, Mor whistled when she saw you. You liked the dress too, you just wished you could change the colour. You shook your head and followed Mor, everyone was sitting in the dining room, their heads snapped in your direction when you walked in.

“We’re going out” Mor informed them and grabbed your hand. “Byee” you giggled as she pulled you away.

You caught a glimpse of the shadowsinger. He was staring at you, a mesmerized look on his face as he took you in. He licked his lips and you almost moaned. Stop it. You reprimanded yourself. You walked out and Mor winnowed you at Rita’s.

“Oh I missed this place” you said with a sigh and smiled. Mor giggled and walked inside.

The place was still the same and quick enough you found yourself dancing and having the time of your life with Mor. You felt someone behind you and hands grabbing your waist, you leaned back and let the stranger grind on you. Mor winked and took a few steps back, the smile on her face vanishing as her eyes widened and before you could react the stranger was yanked away, and you heard a loud cracking noise over the music. You turned around and were met with the sight of a strong back and huge stretched wings. “What the fuck” you yelled and Azriel spun around, he grabbed you and his shadows engulfed you. When the darkness faded you were on a field.

You knew this field, he would take you here whenever you were sad, the view of the whole city and the sparkling flowers always made you feel better. “What the fuck was that?” you screamed.

“What did you expect me to do when I saw another male grinding against my mate?” he screamed too, his voice so loud that the ground trembled. His eyes were wide, and his body tensed with every move you made.

“Oh that’s what this is all about” you laughed. “Your mate. Not me -your mate.”

“No.” he growled “I have loved you way too long before the bond snapped you can ask Cassian… I tried to tell you but Elain interrupted us and at the same time the bond snapped”.

“Too late Az” you whispered. “No it can’t be… please” his eyes watered “I always loved you but I was scared I would lose you if I told you so I pretended that I wanted Mor and then you told me you love me and I didn’t know what to do, so I pushed you away and then Amarantha took you and I thought I lost a piece of my soul. Every day I tried to leave Velaris to find you, but the wards pushed me back. And then Rhysand came back, and you didn’t. I begged him to let me come find you, but he wouldn’t let me. He asked me to give you space, he told me you needed to heal, and I let you. And then you wouldn’t come back, every day I waited for you, but you wouldn’t come” at this point he was crying, his sobs interrupting him. With a deep breath he continued. “I was losing my mind and when Elain started flirting with me, I decided to give it a try, maybe I could get over you with her… I couldn’t but at least she kept me from losing my mind. And then you came back and at first I thought about not telling you but I realized what I was losing and I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

You felt dizzy, every word hitting you with so much force that it took your breath away.

“I will do anything to make it up to you, just say what you want me to do, and I will… I will give you anything you want, even my life, even my wings” he cried and knelt in front of you. His hands grabbed Truth-Teller and he offered it to you “cut them off if you wish I won’t hate you”.

Now you were crying too. He was kneeling in front of you with his head bowed, his hands offering Truth-Teller and his wings stretched behind him to give you easy access.

You grabbed his jaw your palms filling with his tears, and you lifted his head. You knelt too and stared into his eyes.

“Don’t you ever think like that again. I love your wings; I would die to protect them. I love your hazel eyes, I love your scarred hands, I love your body and I love your stupid face. Please don’t make me regret this.” You said and kissed him.

Maybe that girl didn’t die under the mountain, or maybe Azriel brought her back to life either way you were glad. You were alive again.

Requests are open!

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mrsparrasblog · 10 months ago

Text

MAKAROV X PRICE DAUGHTER FINAL PART (PRICE ENDING)

TW: Blood, dead

previous part part one

As Price watched your wedding from afar, a thousand thoughts swept through him. He couldn't help but feel a sense of regret for the moments he had missed in your life, the milestones he hadn't been there to witness. But amidst the regret, there was love and pride in seeing you so radiant, even if the circumstances were far from ideal. You grew up to be a beautiful woman like he always imagined; you were graceful, confident, and full of joy. If this wedding were just something different, something he could be happy about, god, he would rather have married you off to some bloke than a fucking terrorist.

His mind raced with thoughts of how he could have intervened earlier and how he could have protected you from falling into the hands of a man like Vladimir Makarov. Yet he knew deep down that you were strong, resilient, and had made your own choices, even if they weren't the ones he would have wanted for you. Thoughts flowed through his brain: did you choose him freely? Did you know what Makarov was? Why did you vanish from the world? You probably had Stockholm syndrome; there wouldn’t be a chance in hell that his sweet, smart girl fell in love willingly with a man like Makarov.

As he wiped away his tears, Price made a silent vow to himself. He may not have been your protector in the past, but he would be damned if he didn't become your guardian now.

He waited what felt like ages for him to finally see you for a second alone. You were headed to the bathroom, and the wide wedding dress mopped the floor. Makarov was speaking to some politicians, and that was his only chance. He gave Ghost the agreed signal: don’t hurt Civis; kill that bastard and save you.

He heard you vomiting, so he walked inside the bathroom. He already knew what it meant, but he didn’t want to think or even believe this, there was a different time to sort out that problem.

You turned around, being sure that Vlad had intruded on your space. He was always so overprotective, but you knew he would be even worse after this news, but did you really mind?

You gasped as you saw him—your father. He looked older than you remembered; he had more wrinkles, worried eyes, and a completely unshaven beard. "Dad?“

"Oh God, Sweetie, “ he said, almost running the few steps over to you. He embraced you in a tight hug, trying his best to hide his tears. Everyone believed you were dead; they wanted him to mourn you, hold a wake to you, and finally declare you dead but he knew you were alive, and now you stood there in front of him, with a confused look in your beautiful eyes—but alive.

"I didn't think you would make it, Dad,“ you said bluntly while mustering him. It had been so long since you last saw him.

"Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you?“ He started to grab your arms, pulling the sleeves up, looking for any bruises or any indication that Makarov had hurt you. God, he personally wanted to gut that bastard out.

"No Dad, Im fine; Vlad would never hurt me.“

"He is a terrorist, Sweetie; he kills for money.“

"I know, but he has his reasons, Dad. He never would hurt me or do something bad without a reason.“

He looked towards you with a saddened expression, taking your delicate hands in his calloused ones. "Look, I get it. You had a rough time, didn’t you? Your head tricked you into thinking that you love him and that he is this prince from a fairytale, but he isn't; none of this is real.“

You were fuming at this accusation. How had he the audacity on your wedding day?"I'm not stupid, Dad.“

"You're not stupid; you’re brave.“

"He doesn’t hurt me; he protects me and takes care of me, Dad.“

"And what if he changes his mind? If you’ll be the victim of his actions? Please see reason.“

"At least he doesn’t leave me all the time." Spite and pure spite made you say these words: You always loved your dad more than anything else in your life, but he left you; he loved Tina more; he never cared about you; at least that's what you thought.

"Im sorry- I really am for being such a shitty Dad to you, but I love you more than anything, and I know you deserve a better old man, but you also deserve better than marrying a man who isn’t capable of loving. Come home with me; I divorced your stepmom; I will retire okay; no more deployment; no more war; just you and me and Tina if she wants to stay with us,“ he pleaded. He wanted you so bad to agree.

"Dad, I can't; I'm pregnant." You told him the news, and you were sure he would give up by that, but his expression didn’t change, almost as if he already knew.

"Sweetie, I'll help you, okay? And you can still see Vlad just come home, even if it's just for a bit, okay?“ He didn’t know how to help you anymore; besides lying to you, he knew it would stain your relationship even more, but right now, everything that counted was to have you leave this place.“

"You really would.“

"Of course.“

"Thank you, Dad,“ you mumbled and stood up on your way to leave the bathroom to tell Vlad that your Dad kinda accepts him for the baby's sake.

"Wait“

"Hm?“

"Let your old man hug you,“ with that, he pulled you into one of his famous bear hugs, softly stroking your beautiful hair.

When you left the bathroom, you saw Vlad, the supposed love of your life, your husband limp on the ground. The guards lay dead in different corners, and the wedding party was gone. You were only gone for 20 minutes, and everything was ruined.

You ran over to Vlad, hugging his limp body, trying to search for a pulse or anything but gone. You pressed his body closer to yours, and your eyes slowly started to build tears. The sobs only grew louder as you mumbled I love you all over and over again in Russian to him. You weren’t even sure if you were able to tell him that you loved him, and now he is gone. „You lied to me, Dad,“ was all you said to the military man in front of you, who looked at you like you were a zoo animal. Your white dress had already turned the prettiest shade of maroon.

Your Dad walked towards you, trying to pick you up, but you didn’t want to leave Vlad's body.

"He is dead, Sweetie.“ he crunched next to you.

"You lied to me.“

"I know,“ he picked you up, ignoring your protest, but he also held you the whole night while you cried in his arms, not for one second judging you that you fell in love with Vlad, never dismissing your grief; he was for once in your life there for you.

—————————��——

1 year later

You moved in with your Dad again, he indeed retired from the military. His friend and aunt Kate helped at first, but now you managed, even got your old job back that you loved so much. Your Dad sent you to therapy, and after a while, you got it—this wasn’t love, this was fear—and you're free now. This made you resent the baby inside your belly first, but when little James was born, everything was different, and you didn’t connect him with Vlad.

You were afraid your Dad wouldn’t accept little James, but he did. He carried him proudly around, showing it off to his old squad, especially the new Captain of the squad, Captain MacTavish, or anything like that. Your Dad always carried a pacifier in his bag, always a picture of James, Tina, and you in his wallet. He was finally at peace, and so were you.

The End

So this is Price ending , its the first fanfic Drabble whatever I finished, and through the whole process I thought what if my reader don't like the ending, what if its lame or anything but then I thought you don't need always Drama for a good fic or an different love interest ending, sometimes the ending is just good because she finally has what she always craved a family bond.

Tag list: @multifand0midi07 , @whos-fran , @cassiecasluciluce , @the-faceless-bride , @paintlavillered

#cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty #tf 141 #captain john price #john price #makarov x you #makarov x reader #call of duty makarov #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #john price cod #captain price #price #141 #cod fic #captain johnathan price

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aris-ink · 2 years ago

Note

more ddlg jk please im so obsessed

ily <3

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance

warnings: manipulation, big corruption kink, dd/lg, hints of size and spit kink, lots of kissing, slight dub con, allusions to con noncon, intoxication, drugs (marijuanna), dirty talk, groping, bondage (ropes), praise, free use kink, loving humiliation (verbal), possessiveness, creampie, aftercare

Coming back from work, Jungkook found your sleepy form curled up on the bed, the nightlight setting a faint glow over the room. He crouched down on the floor and leaned in to kiss you, the affectionate greeting making your eyes flutter open. You tried to blink the drowsiness in them away, but it didn't seem to be quite working, and Jungkook felt his heart melt in his chest.

"Are you okay, princess?"

You breathed out slowly, your answer coming out mellow.

"I feel so weird, daddy."

He examined you with concern, the dull glaze of your eyes the first thing to catch his attention. Whatever he was about to say died in his throat, and he found himself stroking your cheek with his thumb. You looked so small like this; barely holding on to consciousness, gazing into his eyes with all the love and trust your precious heart had to offer. It stirred something in his soul, something primal and sinister, instantly triggering its protective instincts.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He coaxed gently, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. "Did you eat properly?"

"Dinner," you nodded, sighing, "and some snacks."

Your answer was just as expected, but the innocence of it further provoked that thing in the shadows of his mind, and a pierced eyebrow raised at you cluelessly.

"What snacks? We ran out last night, baby. I got you some on the way home today."

You frowned at that, confusion seeping into your expression.

"No, we... still had some left... they- they were in the shelf... in the kitchen."

"Oh baby..." Jungkook sighed then, and lowered his lips to your forehead. "There's a reason daddy keeps those hidden. You probably shouldn't have touched that."

For a split second, when your eyes raised to meet his, he thought you had realized what happened, what he did, and his heart reacted in tandem with his cock, jumping. But then your small hand moved to reach for him. You couldn't have been cuter if you tried. Even now, seeking his protection, whether it was the drugs muddling your brain; or just love.

Because hidden wasn't exactly the most accurate word here... not since a while, at least, but there was a sadistic need rising up in Jungkook to slip further into his role, murmur reassurances that would have made angels weep for you, had they ever existed and mourned for lost souls.

"It's okay. Just rest, baby... The feeling will pass soon. Just..." he brushed his nose against yours, "close your eyes and let go. Daddy will take care of you. Yeah?"

You followed his instructions flawlessly, letting your eyes fall shut, your body relaxing as he spoke. But your hand still squeezed at his bigger one, like you were nervous that he'd disappear. There didn't really seem to be many coherent thoughts left in that pretty, little head of yours. No wonder the weed hit you hard; it wasn't something you've tried before. You've always rejected any blunts Jungkook offered, trembling and stilling his hands when he whispered all the depraved things he knew would make your cunt leak as he touched you. Now, after the drug has entered your system - and in large amounts, too - you were left so... vulnerable, in every way. Helpless against the warmth flooding your senses, making your nerves tingle as Jungkook climbed on top of you. Helpless against him; his wicked hands soothing you, exploring your waist, their touch your only connection to your earthly existence in the warm, fuzzy haze pulling you under; stripping you off your inhibitions.

"Relax, sweetheart. Just like that."

There was a repressed desire lurking in the softness of his palms sneaking under your shirt. When his lips inched towards yours, something almost innocent laced the action; a soft peck, testing the waters. Too lightheaded to think straight, you let Jungkook do the thinking for you, because that was what daddy was there for, wasn't it? To catch you when you fall. To look after his little girl, kiss her and hold her. And he did just that, throbbing at the whine that slipped past your lips as soon as his touched your neck.

"Sensitive, angel?"

His hands explored your tummy, butterflies erupting while the rough pads of his fingers inched upwards. His voice was as soft as any devil's leading their prey astray, a seduction too great to resist with your guard lowered and brain muddled. Sweet, little thing, so putty in his hands; an adoring kiss warmed your cheek, followed by a sigh, a sound of feigned sympathy. Poor, little baby, so dazed under him; back arching softly when he began to rub your nipple, eliciting a gasp. Good thing daddy knew exactly what you needed. He was going to make it all better, he whispered. Daddy would never hurt you, he promised. And then he slid down your underwear.

He was sure that even with how high you were, his brain was running on the same kind of adrenaline, releasing endorphins, heart beating fast and blood rushing, his kisses sloppy and slow. Like he wanted to taste every inch of you, or rather, like he wanted to pour himself and his love into every nook and crevice of you, body and soul; a suspicion he made far too easy to confirm when he pulled away, dark gaze immediately drawn to the string of saliva connecting you for a second too long. It was enough for his thumb to reach upwards and rub the remains of the wetness into your bottom lip, hypnotized by how swollen and shiny it looked.

There was no other sound in the room besides the mingling of your labored breathing and the soft moans his touches encouraged, igniting a kind of fire within you that, had your mind and heart been sober, would have been considered humiliating. The willingness to be defiled, the trust that this was your caretaker just doing his job. And in a twisted way, he was. Fueling all the forbidden desires and needs you kept locked up, deemed too dark to ever leave the twilight zone of your soul. And once again, whose job was it if not Jungkook's to show his little one that not all dark things were frightful?

Floating, you briefly felt your arms being raised, cool air hitting your skin as he slipped your shirt off. The bed dipped then, and more kisses were lovingly left on your shoulders, the silky heat of his lips lazily trailing up to your neck. Time seemed to be passing by in a blur; you could feel Jungkook trapping your wrists above your head, slight shuffling coming from somewhere beside you.

Another kiss. More shuffling. You were disoriented up to the very moment you registered the fact that the noise stopped, and something was being wrapped around your hands.

No, not wrapped; tied. You whimpered, akin to a little fawn that realized it was ensnared.

Jungkook cooed at you, his lips brushing your collarbone, leaving your skin on fire.

"Such a good girl..."

He made his way down your stomach, presumably to continue to comfort you. Yet his deft fingers landed on your foot, the caress sending your heart jumping to your throat. Because even though it lasted only for a moment, you could hear more rustling, the final kiss landing on your ankle; right before the loving gesture was replaced with the lewd intentions he has had all along. His hands were gentle as they secured the knots, tying both of your ankles to the bed posts; leaving you spread open and defenseless, just the way he wanted.

Even without the restraints, even if your pussy wasn't dripping for him, it wasn't like you would have been able to fight back. Not after the edibles. And in the moment, not many things made sense besides the ache that built up inside you, the smell of Jungkook's skin, invading all your senses and making your thighs start to tremble. But one fact was pretty clear; you were nothing but a toy for him. He wasn't even bothered holding your legs open.

"All good?" He asked sweetly, his arms on either side of your head as he hovered above you again.

Your breath came out uneven, head spinning, but you nodded, lost in the darkness of his eyes staring into yours, giving into its entrancing depths, a bottomless pit that seemed to be asking: There, isn't this so much better? Doesn't it feel good to let daddy make the decisions for you? And he didn't need you to say a word, because your body provided all the answers, keening as you heard him undo his zipper. There was another layer of vulnerability attached to the fact that he was still fully dressed while your skin burned bare underneath him. Another layer of power Jungkook clearly relished in, if the way he twitched against you was anything to go by.

"You're so wet," it was a breathless statement, his eyes threatening to close when his heavy cock finally pressed in between your thighs. "So fucking wet."

Perhaps it was twisted, how lovingly he took advantage of you, degraded you, like you didn't quite belong to yourself; only to him. But your hole was clenching around nothing, trying to suck his cock right in any time he nudged the tip against it. And just like that, all the self control he had exercised so far was beginning to crumble. He could feel himself slipping, the words weighing on his tongue getting harder to hold back.

"So good for me... Just stay like this. Let daddy take care of you."

You moaned weakly, hips trying to seek more friction. Jungkook's cock twitched at that, spurting more precum in between the soft folds of your cunt. You were so divine. His little girl, his property, waiting to be used, craving it. And Jungkook could never deny you. This was all you've ever needed; to be stripped of your identity, no daunting responsibilities, no thoughts. All you had to do was lie there and take his cock like a good girl, your head fuzzy and cunt well fucked.

He rocked into you slowly, pushing an inch forward only to slide out again, the stretch combined with the pressure quickly making your stomach knot up. You didn't realize you were begging until you felt Jungkook's tongue over yours, his lips cutting off your soft whines.

"Fuck," he breathed out weakly, his hips arching into you off their own accord. "Doing so good for daddy." A kiss. "Gonna take care of you." A whisper. "Gonna give you all you need." A dip of his head, soft lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Little miss free use slut."

His tummy clenched at how sharply you inhaled, at the warm pulse beating around his cock as he sank deeper inside you. You were so tight, moaning into his ear, but too out of it to move, too out of it to do anything but feel the thrill of the pleasure he forced into your body. It was intoxicating, how perfect you were, all his to taint and love, his marks so deep no holy water could scrub them off your soul. He groaned, at this point running on pure instinct, fucking you harder as your cunt clenched around him, struggling to accommodate all of his girth and yet aching to be filled up with more. It was too much to handle; the combination of you, the rush of power, and the heavenly heat he was rutting into tipping him dangerously close to the edge.

"Yeah..." His voice came out as a needy, shaky whisper, an inked hand tightening around your breast. "Fuck." His forehead rested against yours, eyes hooded. "Feel good?"

A hiss escaped him when you clenched in response.

"Oh yeah? Little, slutty hole feels good?"

Jungkook's lips were on yours again before you could process it, muffling the loud moan you let out. You were already falling apart, and there were so many ways he wanted to ruin you and leave you shaking for more. All he could focus now on, though, was the vice grip of your wet, abused cunt, and the obscene sounds it made.

"Oh baby, you gonna come? Look what a pretty, little fucktoy I have here. Only good for one thing, hm?"

His hips stuttered at the shiver that ran through you. He gripped your jaw, the mattress protesting under the force of his thrusts. But the noise was nothing compared to the way you cried out for him, your walls spasming around his cock and drawing a loud, desperate moan out of his pretty mouth. Just like that, he followed you right over the edge, spilling his cum deep inside you, and shamelessly fucking it in even deeper. Eyes scrunched, he let his head rest in the crook of your neck, his breath hot on your skin.

"Ohh fuck-" His groan broke into a drawn out, raspy whimper. "Yeees."

He came so hard, white spots dancing behind his eyelids, unwilling to stop grinding until his knees felt weak. He tried to catch his breath, his head swimming. You were limp beneath him, your heart still pounding hard against his. Despite the dreamy exhaustion weighing down his bones, he lifted himself up to check up on you, press tender kisses into your lips.

"Are you okay, baby?"

A nod was all you could manage.

"Such a good girl. You did so well."

His fingers reached to work on untying the knots binding your wrists, his dick twitching at the sight of you before him. The spit still shining on your lips, the glow of your flushed skin, the cum dripping out of your sensitive hole. So blissed out, ruined and pretty. All his. But rather than acting on the shivers of arousal that still haven't died down, flowing through his body, Jungkook focused on sitting you up and getting you to the bathroom.

He sat you in a tub filled with warm water, then discarded his own clothes to join you. The snacks he bought you earlier were placed on a tray, within arm's reach. He held you against his chest, fed you a little. He knew you were tired; you needed rest, you needed time to sober up, because you couldn't keep your eyes opened nor move as he washed you.

He rested his wet cheek on the crown of your head, taking a moment to just feel you close, immerse himself in the warmth.

"Baby," he whispered, his arms tightening around your waist, though he wasn't sure if you were still conscious enough to hear or understand him. "What have you done to me? I love you so much all of my soul is gone."

Gone where? Lost in yours, perhaps, the only heaven that actually mattered.

A moment passed in silence, your breathing soft, until an almost incoherent whisper broke him out of his stupor.

"Love you too, daddy."

Jungkook glanced down at you, a fond smile lighting up his face. It was time to go to bed. Tomorrow, he was off work, and he couldn't wait to spend the day with you. Cooking, kissing, watching movies, then rolling a joint. He had a feeling you wouldn't resist this time; you tended to like the games Jungkook chose. He was good at it. He had to be; that was also a part of his job, wasn't it? Making sure playtime with daddy was fun.

And how could he ever do anything but his best for his little girl?

💌 taglist: @baalsgurl1913 @kooktrash @glowunderthemoon @era-genius @sweetempathprunetree @bucketofhiros @iceprincessviviane @imnotlauriane @silv3rswirls @httpsbts @osakis-gf

#yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x reader

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skelebellie · 2 months ago

Text

desiderium

emmrich volkarin x gender neutral mournwatch!rook

a/n: my last poll solrook vs emmrich ended, and emmrich won. so here’s a treat since im not as busy right now (for 24 hrs). i see a lot of fics making emmrich as some sort of master sex man, but i think there are some real insecurities that would arise out of an age difference relationship. also- i wanted to write carnally down bad rook. also exploring mournwatch rook.

rook does not have any physical descriptors

Warning: Mature. No explicitly sexually themes, suggestive content. slight angst w/ comfort. fluff?

i.e. rook gets FREAKY

Rook settled into Emmrich’s chair comfortably. Their feet pulled underneath them as they poured over one of his tomes. Before his joining, Rook was left throwing stones off the edge of the Lighthouse to see how far they could keep an eye on it before it blipped out into the endless sea of the fade. Emmrich settled at the end of his desk, flipping through a series of scrolls and papers detailing a recent surge of events through the fade. Even if he wasn’t in the Grand Necropolis, he tended to keep busy. It wasn’t the most exciting thing, reading in the presence of their partner, but it was a welcomed contrast to the insanity that followed with fighting ancient elven gods. While Varric described them as a straight thinker and often getting themselves into more trouble than good, it was nice to take off the mask.

However, anxieties were bubbling under the surface regarding their relationship with Emmrich. Nothing remarkably concerning, but they sensed some form of… hesitation. Emmrich had made it very clear how much they loved them, and their neck wasn’t safe from a surprise kiss or the gentle whisper of words. However, outside of that, their romance had been relatively tame. Not that it had upset them, they both had agreed to take it slow. Rook hadn’t been in a previous relationship, as they were far too busy under the Mourn Watch to consider the notion in the past.

For all purposes, Emmrich was exceptionally transparent with their relationship. Even so, Emmrich seemed- how did Harding describe it- mopey? Languid kisses ended earlier, his hands hesitated, and some nights they were even denied the comforting embrace of their lover arms.

Which lead to the moment before them, Rook’s eyes locked onto Emmrich as he continued to read. Only stopping to make eye contact with Rook, the flames of the fireplace dancing across his skin.

“You’re starring, dear.” Emmrich commented, raising his head lightly, the glint of his glasses catching against the golden ember of the room.

“It’s hard not too when you’re so distracting.” Rook responded, closing their book and giving Emmrich a cheeky grin.

“Your compliments find me at the most unique moments.”

Emmrich's words were always well constructed. Even at their most focused Rook could barely knock him off his feet with their flirting. However, Rook also became keenly aware that Emmrich wouldn’t accept said compliment.

Truthfully, it frustrated them to no end. Since they hadn’t escalleted their relationship, Rook made a point to constantly praise Emmrich. It was impairitive that he understand how much they loved him. Especially with the continued teasing from the rest of the group.

A silence fell between the two. However, unlike the prior calm, an air of unpleasantness settled. Emmrich’s eyes stared at Rook as the cogs in their brain ticked and spun.

“Do you not desire me sexually, Emmrich?” Rook responded, voice rather blunt for such a crude comment. Instead of being filled with frustration, their face fell to curiosity- understanding. Rook wasn’t unaware of the different forms of love that were followed across Thedas. Sex didnt equal love, and not all love had to involve sex. So while their initial comment was one meant to open the doors to a productive conversation, it may have come off as accusatory.

“Excuse me?” Emmrich responded, shock evident across his creased eyebrows.

“Do you feel sexual attraction to me? Arousal? Excitement at the idea of my naked”, They rambled, before being swiftly cut off.

“Im well aware of what you mean. What Im wondering is why you would ask such a thing?” His voice turned serious, slightly intimidated at the conversation at hand.

Emmrich had his own demons. He was an accomplished necromancer, reasercher, and professor. But in the ways of long-term love, he had his own failings. Prior to meeting Rook, he had accepted that he would be entombed alone. And while he did love Rook, there were lingering doubts about their relationship.

Could he keep up with Rook? They were much younger, and lacked experience- would it have been better for them to get with someone like Davrin or Taash? Live out the fleeting moments of sexual exileration and lust from a partner their age? Was he fulfilling their needs, or was in inadvertently tying them down? Emmrich had no discourse concerning the age difference, other than the time they would spend apart. Was it selfish of him to love such a young beauty, only to leave them behind? Did Rook even desire him in that way- or was he far from what they wanted physically?

These questions riddled his brain until the night fell silent. And while Emmrich considered himself calm and collected, these worries had inadvertently began to affect the way the treated Rook. Hesitation and doubt imbued with his touch like a sickening virus.

Rook returned a less serious look to Emmrich. “You’ve been hesitant. I dont find your hand on my waist as often, and the physical contact between us has been few and far between. I even walked in earlier this week with some of my buttons undone and you had the gall to button it back up.”

“Im not mad- I understand relationships all take different shapes and forms. But I felt it was a point we needed to address.” They replied, their gaze softening at Emmrich. While they had enough confidence to rival that of Solas’, there was something disheartening at the idea that your partner didnt feel attracted to you. Let alone not find you desirable.

Emmrich’s voice came out soft, and apologetic.

“Oh Dear,” He said quietly, raising up from his seat and discarding his paperwork as he made his way across his quarters. Arriving infront of Rook, taking the book out of their hands and placing it onto the side table. Replacing the leather bound texture with the smoothness of his hands.

“It’s not like that at all. I had no idea I had been coming across as prudish- it’s just that-“, His voice failed him momentarily. Emmrich wasn’t shy, his sexual past was quite adventurous compared to his peers. But for some reason, the daunting idea of not being enough was sufficient to cause doubt within him. His fingertips rubbing over Rook’s palms as he thought.

“Of course I find you attractive. I find myself staring at you when you aren’t looking, unable to peel my eyes away from you- afraid to miss the smallest detail about you. My desire for you, both mind and body, bubbles beneath my skin in the most inappropriate of times.” He coughed out, albeit a bit embarrassed at the sudden confession.

A gentle sigh escaped Emmrich’s nose.

“It’s just that I worry. Nothing more than the ramblings of an older man.” He replied, aiming to settle the conversation with minimal details.

Although, this would not work on Rook. They had spent far too many nights solving the problems of their teammates. And their relationship with Emmrich made it even more transparent to them that something was on his mind.

“Love, please, talk to me.” Rook whispered, standing up from their seat to meet their eyes with Emmrich’s. A pleading look engrained from their eyes to the deepest part of their soul.

A silent moment passed between them, the necromancers shoulders relaxing as a breath he didnt even know he was holding escaped. He didnt want to bother his lover with such trivial things, but he found that they often wormed their way in anyhow. Grateful to be a shoulder of understanding and acceptance. Quietly, he pulled Rook back towards his desk, guiding them with a gentle grip. As he pulled his partner closer, he settled himself at the edge of his desk, shortening himself just enough so that they were eye level with each other.

“It’s not that I don’t find you absolutely enticing, far from it. More so, I am worried about my own endeavors.” Emmrich babbled, his eyes falling to the hands he cradled within his own. Admiring the contrast of his grave jewelry amongst Rooks skin.

“Such as?” Rook asked.

“I find that there are looming doubts within me. That I may not be enough for you- physically. There are far younger individuals who could fulfill my place. At my age, there are much more… compatible suitors. for you” He admitted.

Rook looked back at Emmrich, their face filled with worry. It’s not as if this thought hadn’t crossed their mind. Although, their worries didnt involve their compatibility, sexually or otherwise. They were far more worried about how others would view Emmrich, or if they were fulfilling his needs.

But the momentary falter in their gaze drove Emmrich’s stomach to the bottom of his abdomen. Their hesitancy a personal confirmation of his deepest doubts.

“I see you have your own doubts. I knew It was selfish of me to-“ He responded, gently pushing back against Rook. Only to be met with a force pushing against him, keeping him against the edge of the desk.

“Emmrich, you are not the one who decides who and what I am attracted to.” Rook responded firmly, tone absent of their usual jovial and forgiving nature. Honestly, it shocked Emmrich to see this side of them, the one usually reserved for the battlefield- for a leader.

“I am not ignorant of our differences in age. But do not think for a moment that you had “tricked” me into anything. I knew very well what I was getting into when I decided to pursue you.” They responded, a gentle yet firm hand coming up to rest underneath Emmrich’s chin, closing the small space between the two. Rooks eyes shifted their gaze from soft to an almost peering look. Looking across Emmrich’s face with rigid admiration, as if viewing one of the hundreds of phantasmal paintings that covered the Grand Necropolis.

“It would be amiss of me to not recongnize that being raised by skeletons and spirits in the Grand Necropolis turned my attraction to an… older audience. One that I can assure you fall into.” Rook divulged. Their thumb running across the bottom of Emmrich’s lip, admiring the way the muscle gave way to their finger.

“Darling, I didn’t intend to assume…” Emmrich whispered, his hands settling on their lowers hips given their proximity. Rooks gaze alighting a rumbling heat in his pelvis. There was something about Rooks eyes- the look belonging not to some hesitant, inexperienced lover. Rather, someone who knew exactly what they wanted.

“And yet you did.” Rook responded, shortening the distance between the two until Emmrich was forced to place a hand on his desk in order to maintain his balance.

“I can assure you, I am not without my desires. I am simply good at hiding them. I may be inexperienced, dear, but I am not unknowledgeable about what I want. I just thought it would better to keep said intentions to myself until we discussed it further. However, Im beginning to understand that you are a man of action, not words.” They continued, their hand traveling across the outside of Emmrichs thigh, fingers dancing along the side seam in a manner that caused his leg to shake.

“Must I show you my hunger? Reveal to you the heat that scorches my body until it’s the only thing I think about? How some days you leave my thoughts reduced to its only basic instinct?”

Rooks hand continued upwards, palming across Emmrich’s abdomen as he let out belittled breaths in return. The skillful hands of a mortalitasi unbuttoning his exterior vest to untuck his undershirt. Rooks head dipped into the crook of Emmrich’s neck, quickly removing the skull lapel across his neck to unbutton the top buttons of his undershirt. Needing to pay hommeage to the caratoid artery that kept the object of their desire alive. Belated breaths tickling across the pale skin before them. Tantalising close, as their own wants teetered out from under their control.

“Dearest- I- Please-“ Emmrich responded, his words finally reaching Rooks ears as his other hand clenched across their back. Torn between an embrace and halting them all together.

Softly, Rook’s hand drifted under his shirt, teasing at skin they couldn’t see. There was something arousing about finally getting to touch the skin Emmrich constantly kept covering up. Their feelings at odds with each other as they took the moment to explore. Dip their fingers into his back dimples and forgotten scars as if ingraining it within their memory for a later day. Although, their attention would quickly return to Emmrichs neck. Planting hungry kisses down to his trapezoid, far below the collar.

“Desire is a fools word, Professor. What I feel towards you is not as simple as a want- it’s an obsession. I need you just as much as the blood beneath my skin and the air in my lungs. If I could, I would devour you until we were one and the same.” Rook recounted, before planting wet kisses along the crevices of Emmrich’s life line. Alternating between biting and sucking the skin. Drowning the room out before them in a mixture of heated gasps, soft moans, and the until the fire within Rooks stomach settled into a gentle simmer. Their back only slightly sore from Emmrich’s grasp, before they finally leaned back. Revealing the dischevled Professor, his hair tussled and sweat on his brow. Not that rook looked any better.

Rook paused for a moment, allowing them both to catch their breath, before they removed the hand underneath Emmrich’s under clothes and placing it against his cheek. Relishing in the feeling of stubble just beneath their palm.

“I assume I have been quite demonstrative as towards my intentions?” Rook responded.

Emmrich could only give a wide eyed look, his face teetering on embarrassment and arousal. Shock could barely describe the revelation he just had.

“I think you’ve been quite clear, dear.”

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forlorn-crows · 4 months ago

Note

may i request a ficlet or a headcanon on how mountain and rain fell in love?

anon, i need you to know i SQUEALED so loud when you first sent me this. i love these boys so MUCH, and im so happy you asked about them. consequently, i have written you an entire fic fhghdhjf. happy mountain monday!

tagging @divine-misfortune for giving me ideas for this, including the title

𝑩𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑴𝒚 𝑭𝒐𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕

Rating: Teen

Relationship(s): Mountain/Rain, Mountain & Dewdrop, Mountain/Zephyr (mentioned)

Tags: fluff, romantic fluff, first kiss, falling in love, pre-relationship. mentions of past relationships & now turbulent ones. they're just so cute okay :((

Words: 2,648

It happens quickly, like a rushing river thrusting debris together after a storm. Leaves and shorn-off buds tangling with algae before coming to rest at a rocky bend in the stream. The current carries them towards each other—part chance, part fate, part cruel circumstance. Gentle in the way it allows them to float on the surface, but persistent in the way it doesn’t let up until they ultimately intertwine. In that way, Mountain can’t help the way he’s been drawn to Rain.

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In that way, Mountain can’t help the way he’s been drawn to Rain. In a whirlwind of summonings, the water ghoul stayed unfazed from the beginning: cool, collected. The ease with which he took to their routine and their lives gained all of Mountain’s admiration. He was the fresh scent of petrichor after months of brimstone and burnt skin.

Dew was . . . well, Dew was different now, and more connected to Aether than ever. None of them could help the fact they all mourned his water in different ways. It was what it was—and that made it easy for Mountain to let the new water ghoul in while he temporarily loved the old one from a distance.

Melancholy, perhaps. Thankfully, now, it’s becoming easier to figure it all out, even amongst the chaotic shuffle of ghouls, instruments, and authority. They’ve had a few moments, some good, some bad. Mountain’s accepted, after many weeks of unbridled anger, stubbornness, and isolation, that it simply will take time.

And woven into the healing and the mess of it all is that bright cerulean lure, flashing over and over.

It doesn’t help, of course, that Rain is gorgeous. Lithe and sharp, siren-like in the way he involuntarily commands Mountain’s attention. But more than that; it’s the way he lets mistakes roll off of him in rivulets. The way he walks around like he’s been there a thousand years, but never in a cocky way—more like he finds comfort in everything and everyone with an ease that only adds to his elegance.

It’s the way he bounds over to Mountain while he’s working outside the greenhouse to ask if he needs help instead of breezing by on his way to the lake. Always offering for the earth ghoul to join him (Mountain’s scared shitless of making a fool of himself being alone with him, so he never does).

And, it’s the way that Rain really, really listens to him. Eyes soft and kind, always cocking his head in genuine interest when he speaks. How he doesn’t let anyone pull him away for some heated rendezvous or grab him for another practice session when they’re deep in conversation.

Slowly but surely, he’s gotten to know the water ghoul. Little smiles exchanged while he watches Dew teach Rain the bass. Sharing favorite foods, like orange blossom infused honey to drizzle over Rain’s toast at breakfast. Neutral compliments that turn into lengthy conversations at the end of their rhythm section sectionals (where Mountain doesn’t miss the amused, knowing shake of Aether’s head as he exits the practice room, leaving them to it). Jokes shared over dish duty at the end of the night, long walks around the abbey and its grounds where their shoulders brush and Rain’s face lights up like the most lustrous sapphire.

The earth ghoul just can’t seem to have enough of him—of his genuineness. His openness to learning new things while always being honest about who he is and what he needs.

What he wants, though? Who he wants? Well, Mountain is a little blind to that.

He, however, is not blind to his own wants.

Wants that flutter to life in his belly when he walks in on Rain in the baths one afternoon. Mountain can’t help that he blushes something fierce, steps stuttering as he contemplates continuing or fleeing. There’s no need to say sorry, at least; it’s not an intrusion to walk in on another ghoul in their shared bath house. But that doesn’t stop Mountain from feeling like it is, with the way he’s alone, poised somehow perfectly in the patch of setting sun streaming in through the skylights. Running fingers through raven-black hair as he massages his shampoo into his scalp.

It’s not the first time he’s seen him naked before. They’ve been to the lake together a handful of times, where Rain has thus far preferred to be bare as the day he was summoned. But at this moment? He almost seems more . . . real. More ethereal and mesmerizing. Even from a few yards away he can see the faint markings scattered across his shoulders and back, almost white in the dimming light, popping against his blue-toned skin. The fins along his ears glow close to orange as the scattered beams of sunlight shine through the thin skin.

Mountain could admire him for hours. Trace up and down the fins on his spine, map out his spots like constellations. Watch his gills fluff and flutter. He wants very badly for Rain to let him.

One day.

Eventually, the water ghoul notices his guest, looking over his shoulder as he squeezes on the ends of his hair. His cerulean eyes crinkle up at the corners when he notices Mountain staring (gawking, really), and the earth ghoul is nearly brought to his knees right there.

“Hi, Mountain,” he says smoothly. Underneath the water, his finned tail swishes.

“Uh,” Mountain clears his throat, “ . . . hi.” It’s so small and hesitant and he wants to kick himself. Any shred of nonchalance leaving his body the moment Rain puts his eyes on him.

The water ghoul just smiles, tipping his head towards the water in front of him. “Come join me.” His voice is sweet and melodic as it echoes against the high ceilings and mixes with the soft bubbling sound of circulating water. Every part of him a siren’s call.

Something akin to bashfulness creeps up his spine, face going hot at the thought of disrobing entirely in front of a creature so, so much more gorgeous than he. While he’s seen Rain naked before, Rain’s never seen him naked, and though he has no qualms about being naked in front of kin (he’s learned the hard way about human ideals of decency), something about it being the first time the water ghoul will see more than just his chest and calves has his heart fluttering like a mortal teenager in a romcom.

“Sure. Thanks.” Lords below, have mercy. He strips quickly before he can think about backing out, dropping his clothes into a haphazard bundle on one of the benches.

“No soap?” Rain observes his lack of toiletries as he places his towel at the bath’s edge.

“Oh. No; was coming more for a soak,” Mountain explains, slipping into the water. He can feel the heat radiating from the tiles underneath his feet, a soothing temperature that instantly eases the tension in his tired muscles. He trills contently.

The water ghoul makes a thoughtful noise as he tips his head back for a rinse. Mountain watches the ridge of his throat stand out against his neck as it bends, the gills on either side fanning out slightly as the skin around them pulls taught. Before his gaze can wander past the beginning of his sternum and take in the way his chest tips towards the ceiling, though, Rain straightens back up, hair now slicked back against his scalp.

“Well, you’re welcome to use mine. If you change your mind.” The fins on his ears twitch and shake off the residual water droplets, sending some flying towards Mountain’s face.

“He-ey,” he accuses, squinting one eye and blinking the other rapidly. “I think there was some shampoo in that one.”

Rain grins, sharp double fangs on full mischievous display. “Oops. Guess you’ll have to rinse it off.”

Mountain sighs and rubs at his cheek with the back of his hand, head shaking slightly. He takes an over-exaggerated breath, holding it all in his cheeks and raising his eyebrows at the water ghoul before sinking beneath the water, submerging completely. For as dense as his hair is, it thankfully wets easily, and he’s pushing back up to full height—now fully drenched—after only a few seconds.

Rain’s laugh reverberates around him, pretty and delighted. Mountain knows it’s because of the hair in his eyes, most likely transforming his appearance closer to that of an unkempt highland cow than a slightly disheveled earth ghoul. Mountain chuckles in response, shaking off like a dog.

“You asked for this,” he says as their laughter dies down. He’s about to raise his hands to his face and push back the wet strands, but instead, Rain’s there suddenly, brushing the hair off his forehead with soft, cool hands and thumbing the water away from his eyes. Mountain’s breath catches in his chest, heart beating very fast as Rain’s hands pause to linger on his cheeks.

They’ve never been this close—such a distinct lack of distance that Mountain can feel the breath from Rain’s nose fanning over his slightly parted lips. It’s been difficult enough in the moments Rain bumps against him in the hall or when their hands brush when passing plates at dinner. Touch that lingers for hours afterwards. Now he’s within the circle of the water ghoul’s arms with nothing but bath water between them, and Belial, he might not survive the next few minutes.

“H-hi,” he whispers. Anything to not break this spell, despite the urge he has to slip from his hands and drown himself in embarrassment.

“Hi,” Rain smiles. His eyes dart down to Mountain’s nose, back up again, then down to his lips. And his gaze stays there as he tilts his head to the side and asks, so blatantly: “Will you kiss me?”

Mountain nods so fast he thinks his brain rattles in his skull.

Rain laughs again, and Mountain’s heart swells with something he dare not yet name.

“C’mere, then.” And Rain is pulling him in, shifting his hands to hold against the nape of his neck, thumbs at the hinge of his jaw. Mountain can’t help the noise that escapes him when their lips connect, Rain’s so soft and cool it makes him ache. It takes all his willpower not to slot their bodies together when he places his hands on the water ghoul’s waist. He’s so smooth, skin almost taking on a stingray-like texture from the water and stray soap residue.

The kiss is brief, chaste, but not without movement. Lips meeting, parting, then meeting again with softened breaths shared by their noses. A flurry of excitement runs through him when Rain smiles against his mouth; a juvenile feeling, but one that warms his entire chest. One that he has to have a tight hold on, lest he get too excited.

When Rain turns his head, rubbing their noses together, Mountain huffs against his lips as another kaleidoscope of butterflies fills his belly. But he pulls away after that, their mouths separating with a soft sound. All at once he becomes frozen, eyes still closed—almost like he’s drifting through space, memorizing the feeling of Rain’s lips moving against his.

Rain laughs breathily. “You still with me?”

Mountain bites his lip, eyebrows quirking up in the middle. His hands are still sliding against the water ghoul’s skin. Just feeling. The smoothness of his skin only makes him want to touch him more.

“Uh-huh.” Mountain can hear himself how distant he sounds, how terribly infatuated he is just from one kiss. It brings him back to those early days with Zephyr: how cautious and reserved he was around the elegant air ghoul when they gave him attention. How they managed to pull something genuine and warm out of him over those first few months. How Mountain’s world changed the moment Zephyr pulled him down to their height and pressed their lips to his.

And maybe that’s what it was about Rain that hooked Mountain from the start. That similar brand of ease and elegance, the nonjudgemental willingness to help him through his stubborn, thick head and realize yes, this ghoul wanted him. Where Zephyr helped him gain confidence to live a life topside, Rain has helped him rejuvenate that life and give him purpose again.

Hard not to fall (over and over again) for a ghoul like that.

After probably too long of a pause, Mountain opens his eyes. Rain’s smiling at him, blue eyes sparkling. Everything about him outshines anything else in his view, and he just has to return the smile. Mountain rubs his thumbs over his hip bones, sharp but smooth, so pleasing to touch that he just wants to touch him over and over. Rain scoots millimeters closer and hums thoughtfully.

“Well?” He’s still holding his face between his hands. He moves them from Mountain’s jaw and slides them down his neck and over his shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

Mountain gasps softly. Grips Rain’s hips a little tighter as he watches the water ghoul lick his lips. He doesn’t answer his question, because all he wants to do is pull Rain right back in.

“Will you kiss me again?” It’s easy to ask—easy to want more from him, want to give him more. He could sink into this warmth between them and happily never come out.

“You don’t have to ask,” Rain smiles, already closing the gap between their mouths—and now their bodies—again. This time, he lets himself touch, really touch. Arms circling his waist, snaking between his shoulder blades, hands running softly along his fins and moving upwards to tangle in his hair. It would be too easy to completely let go, lose himself in it all and let Rain devour him right here in the bath. Open up for him and let him take all of him. But he doesn’t want to get too far, too carried away. Not here. Not now.

Not yet.

Rain works his hands over the planes of his chest, his stomach, lingering just on the edge of politeness as he familiarizes himself with Mountain’s little tufts of fur. Skilled, thin fingers twist and pet at the mousy brown strands dusting his chest, his stomach. Still kissing chastely, but not without intention or desire.

Tiny wings flutter faster in Mountain’s stomach, swooping high and low in their wild flight. Pushing little sounds out of his throat as Rain huffs softly against his lips. It’s too easy to let him hear those sounds—illustrating how much he wants him, letting him hear all the ways he makes him feel just at the slightest of touches.

Rain pulls away, and Mountain dizzily follows. Chasing kiss-puffed lips and the sweet taste of laughter breathed between them. But the water ghoul slips from his grasp with ease, wading away from him.

“Wait, but . . .” Mountain doesn’t actually know what to say. His lips and body buzz where Rain last touched, nerves alight.

Rain just shakes his head and smiles. “Plenty more where that came from, Mount.” He pulls himself out of the bath, and Mountain swears he bends over purposefully just to make him look. Rain runs a towel over his body and squeezes the bulk of the water from his hair. Then he tosses the towel in the bin in favor of a soft waffle-knit robe, sighing happily as he slips it on.

Before Mountain can say anything else, Rain’s scooping up his soaps and shuffling out of the bathhouse in a pair of garishly blue rubber sandals (completely in contrast to the muted stone-gray of his robe, but Mountain supposes those kinds of shoes don’t come in sophisticated colors). The smile stays on his face even as he rounds the corner.

Leaving Mountain alone, tingling everywhere.

“Belial, help me . . .” he mutters into the empty room. He sinks down, nose deep into the water and equally as deep into those lingering, fluttery feelings.

#the band ghost #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #zephyr ghoul #mountain/rain #rain/mountain #crow writes #the band ghost fanfic #crow caws #anon #mountain monday

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