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acotarxreader · 1 day

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Little Drop of Starlight

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: A story of Azriel and you raising your daughter through the years, Azriels little drop of starlight.

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: The timeline of this is a bit wonky because I don't think I fully understand how they age but oh well. Also in this world, C-Sections exist.

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“Where the fuck is she?!”

“Would you please calm down I'm sure she's a very busy Azriel” You smiled gently at the pacing Illyrian.

“Well she should be busy with us YN we should be top priority! I'm going to go find her!"

“Az the healer will get here when she gets here, please calm down your rising blood pressure is causing my blood pressure to rise which isn't good for the baby” he went from pacing to collapsing to your bedside, clutching your hand to almost bone-crushing.

“Do you need something honey?! Water? A pillow? A blanket? My jacket? That male in the waiting room’s jacket?” You laughed at your panicked mate, giving him some ease at the sound.

“What I need is for you to please calm down!” you turned your hand so you could rub the back of his instead, his eyes wild.

“You're right, it'll be fine, it's just with what happened with Feyre and Rhy-”

“-Az, it'll be okay, you're here with me”

“You're right again my gorgeous mate, we're in this together...now where the fuck is the healer?!” He jumped again from your side and you rolled your eyes, collapsing back on the plush off-white pillow.

“There are probably other babies she's seeing to first Az”

“Well, there isn't another baby as important as ours!” You smiled sweetly at your already proud mate and then watched him take off out the door, you failing to call him back.

After another hour or so Azriel had practically hauled a healer off the road by the throat, with you apologising the whole time.

“Hmm you seem to be at 10cm but the baby isn't coming? We need to cut!” the healer called out to her assistant.

“What what what?! Where are you taking my mate!” The medical team unlocked the bed from the wall and began wheeling you through the corridor with Azriel still clutching your weakening hand.

You lay splayed out on the surgical table, a team of surgical personnel like ants around you, plying you with a tonic to take the growing pain away. A tarp was placed in front of both you and Azriel to shield the operation. Azriel almost turning the same green as the tarp.

“The baby is almost here honey”

“Oh great, we should go camping sometime or we could all go to Spring Court on holiday, I’m sure that overgrown dog is over his tiff by now” he laughed at your drug-induced words. Through the healers scurrying and Azriel’s gentle encouragement your baby was soon screeching into life.

“Congratulations, it's a female” they carefully handed her to her father. Azriel looked at the little drop of starlight in his arms, almost afraid he'd break her.

“She's so beautiful Az”

“You're so beautiful YNN, I'm so lucky” Tears came to his eyes as the healer took her from him to be cleaned. He turned his attention back to you, rubbing your hand gently and kissing the top of your head as you were sewn back together.

“Thank you YN, thank you so much for our little drop of starlight”

5 years later.

“Come here, you little terror!” Sweet Pea playfully chased your daughter around the island unit of your kitchen.

“Hey, be careful!” You laughed from the kitchen table. Azriel collapsed on the seat next to you, totally out of breath.

“We should have another ynn”

“Emm, can we focus on the two we have first?” You smiled down at the 6-month-old son asleep in your arms.

“Play!”

“In a second Luna, your old father needs a rest” he put a large hand to his quickened heart and you laughed at him.

“Can I play with Sol?”

“Not yet sweetie he's still too small and you're too strong” She seemed sad at first by your answer but then decided to take it as a good thing and continued running around.

Finally with the kids asleep in bed, Luna content with the two books Azriel had read, the two of you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, exhausted but content.

“Yn I love you so much” You rolled into his side.

“Really? Even after two kids?” You teased.

“Especially after two kids, Mothers are hot” he kissed the top of your head smiling.

“Not as hot as Fathers"

“Oh talk Mother to me” he laughed, kissing your cheek.

“We-need-to-babyproof-the-sitting-room” you managed between kisses.

“Keep going” he hummed with a goofy smile.

“Cut-the-grass-tomorrow- or I'm- leaving you” You smiled back before meeting ferociously, Azriel’s leg just began to tangle with yours as a small voice came to the door.

“I'm scared” You broke apart and rolled your eyes at each other before Azriel sat up and called Luna over to the bed.

“It's okay little drop of starlight, I will always protect you” he pulled her into his chest. You had tried time and time again to get Azriel to stop leaving her sleep between you both but he really couldn't help it. He was putty in Luna’s hands. She laid between you both but of course, faced Azriel.

11 years later.

“Luna! I said no!"

“I'm 16! I'm old enough to fly alone! Why can't I go away with my friends camping for the weekend!”

“Because I said so! And take off the fighting leathers!”

“Ugh!!!!” She shrieked, ripping her jacket from her shoulders to reveal her cropped top and stomping upstairs.

“And put on a tarp for Gods sake!” Azriel shouted after her.

“You should just let her go, it'd be easier on all of our eardrums if your screeching starlight is appeased” Sol collapsed on the couch in the den alongside you.

“Don't you have reading to do?”

“Oh yeah, annoyed with the favourite so we're all punished” he pushed himself off the couch and sauntered into the kitchen.

“We don't have favourites Sol” you called after him laughing.

“Az sit down” he sat as close as possible, cupping your hand in his.

“I think we should let her go”

“Absolutely not”

“Why not though? We went camping together when we were 16”

“Exactly, reason number one why she's not going, how we spent our camping trips” You smiled at your husband while his eyes were fixed on the stairs.

“And about the Illyrian leathers…”

“She's not joining them, I want her to be proud of her blood but that doesn't mean I want her to live it! She trains with Cass, hones her skills and never has to use them, that's the goal”

“You have to let her make that decision herself Az”

“So you want her to die”

“Of course not!-” you hit him with the pillow “-but I know we've raised her strong and smart so I know she'll make the right decisions”

“I'm going to go talk to her” You nodded in agreement and he took off up the stairs. You snuggled down onto the couch, enjoying the peace and quiet before-

“YN!!!! LUNA IS GONE! OH SHE IS SO GROUNDED!” he came flying down the stairs taking two steps at a time, shadows darting in every which direction, Sol running back into the room.

“I get her bedroom after you kill her!”

“We are not going to kill her ... .okay you can have it” you winked before tying up your coat and helping Azriel with his, his rage preventing him from buttoning it correctly.

2 years later

“I get your room now you're leaving”

“Oh wow Sol I'll miss you too” Luna ruffled her brother's hair, her suitcase in hand, standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Your travels are going to be great sweetie”

“I know I’m so excited” You hugged her, Azriel stood behind you almost afraid to look. The doorbell went off behind him.

“Wait wait, that's Wells, I'll get it!” She ran past Azriel, ripped open the door and leapt into the tall male's arms. You could hear Azriel growl so you tentatively took his hand.

“So, you're the male who thinks he's seeing my daughter”

“Emm em ye-yes sir” he put out his hand to shake Azriels and you immediately thought what a mistake. Azriel’s strength had Wells biting back tears.

“Well come on Wells! We better go. Bye everyone!” She hugged you and Sol quickly before standing in front of Azriel, Wells having run away with the bags.

“Bye, I love you, I'll be back at Starfall”

“I love you too, my little drop of starlight ” She kissed his cheek before leaving the porch for her new life.

3 years later

“Wells cheated on me!” Luna was sobbing on the doorstep of your home. You felt so terrible for her and yet you were secretly happy, the whole family having never liked Wells in the first place.

“It's okay Luna, you'll be okay sweetie”

“Is that my drop of starlight?” He looked at your worried face, the smile dropping from his face immediately.

“Oh Gods what's wrong?!” you separated from your weeping daughter, Azriel immediately closing the space to envelop her in a deep hug.

“Wells cheated on me!” Ariel's eyes grew wide before separating again from her and almost handing a hysterical Luna back to you.

“Wait Azriel where are you going?!”

“I need to handle something, Sol! We have business to attend to son!”

6 years later

“Seriously, please make him stop crying”

“Leave him alone sweetie, his daughter just got married”

“Oh please stop talking about it I'll be sobbing...again” he put his hand up to you, forcing his eyes off his little girl in a big white dress. You kissed your teary mate tenderly before persuading him to look at his gorgeous daughter.

“You look so lovely my little drop of starlight”

“Az! We're related now, can you believe it!”

“No Cass, I really can't” his voice was dry and his tears were gone upon seeing Luna’s father in law.

4 years later

“Do you need anything my little drop of starlight? Water? A pillow? A blanket?”

“I need you to calm down please, it won't make the baby come any faster” You sat by your daughter and laughed at her reply, Azriel hadn't changed much in this regard.

“I have to go find the healer, it's time to get this baby out!” He paced, almost to the point he was wearing a hole in the floor. Cassian arrived shortly and quickly joined Azriels erratic behaviour.

“Sol sends his love and will be home from the continent as soon as he can” You stroked your daughter's hair as she ended another contraction.

“Excuse me but only the father can be in here for the birth” The small healer's assistant was more than half the size of Azriel but almost as tough in her approach.

“You have to let me stay! That's my daughter!”

“Come on Az” you kissed your daughter's head before having to physically haul your mate and Cass by the ears out of the room.

The three of you stayed out in that bright hall for more than 5 hours. Both you and Cass taking the opportunity to nap on Azriels shoulders, Azriel wired awake.

Finally, the healer came out and granted you access, Azriel hurdling himself at the door.

You got to hold your granddaughter first, Cassian cooing over your shoulder, his son doing the same.

“I'm so proud of you little drop of starlight" he rubbed her hand before hugging his daughter. “Thanks, for everything….you want to hold your granddaughter?” he nodded gently in reply. The minuscule baby was pried from your hands and gently settled in her grandfather's arms.

“Hello there my little drop of starlight”

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peaches2217 · 1 day

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Summer Rain

AO3 link!

~~~

There’s nothing quite like falling ten feet to the ground and landing flat on one’s back to bring a person back into reality. When he came to, Mario’s first reaction was relief. Rest, finally. Everything burned. His throat, his lungs, his muscles, his stomach. His ears rang and his head spun and his vision created doubles of every last block and obstacle overhead, and at long last, he was free to simply lay in the grass and observe passively.

As with all good things, it didn't last.

Get up.

The all-too-familiar voice, maybe his own and maybe some divine call from the universe, repeated these words in his head, but he couldn’t make his muscles obey. He could hardly breathe; air returned to him in unsteady gasps, and with each one, his short-lived relief melted further and further into frustration.

Get up. Something gurgled in his throat that was neither air nor bile, and the taste of copper coated his tongue. Get up. How had he slipped? He’d run this training gauntlet hundreds of times, if not thousands, in the past weeks. Had he grown complacent? Get up. This was no time for complacency. No time for failure. Get up, get up, get up.

“Mario!” He registered the cry of his name the same way he registered the pain in his spine or the ache in his limbs or the muted yet near-constant growling of his gut: with little more than passing acknowledgement. He knew he was hurt. He knew he was hungry. He knew someone was calling out to him. He didn’t care. His only concern was get up, get up, get up, sit up, stand up, get back to training.

Get back to her.

“Mario?”

Just as soon as he’d pulled himself to his knees, dizziness overtook Mario, and he barely caught himself on his hands, his arms shaking from the effort to support his weight. Her voice. All it took was the ghost of her voice to sap his fight, drain the furor that fueled him, until he was empty, empty, empty.

She wasn’t— he knew she wasn’t— and yet she— she sounded so near—

“Oh, Mario,” Peach sighed, pressing a gloved hand to her cheek, “what am I going to do? If I have to sit through one more unproductive commission on import tax rates, I think I’m going to scream.”

Mario chuckled sympathetically. “So I’m guessing third time wasn’t the charm after all?”

“I thought surely the senators would be just as sick of all the arguing as I am by now. Sadly, I’m fairly certain they enjoy it.” Another sigh. “So a fourth commission has been scheduled for Thursday.”

Thursday. Mario wracked his head for upcoming happenings, possible excuses, any circumstance he could twist in her favor, and he found it in short order.

“Hmm… it sure is a shame you won’t be there for that meeting, Princess.”

Peach halted in her tracks, and Mario stopped alongside her, meeting her confusion with pointed nonchalance.

“I… won’t be?”

“You didn’t forget, did you? That play in Mushroom City you were invited to? That’s Thursday night, yeah?”

Peach shook her head. “Mario, I’d hardly call a letter written in crayon by a child begging me to attend their Kindergarten theatre production an ‘invitation.’ More of a… um…” A pause. The realization clicked into place, her bright eyes glowing ever brighter in the twilight, and she graced Mario with a sly, cheerful smile. “Well, how many children have the courage to write to the castle directly? It would be rude to turn such a thoughtful invitation down.”

“My thoughts exactly!” He nudged her side, winking up at her. “Now, I know you’d rather sit and listen to grouchy old Toads shout over each other all day, but we all have to make sacrifices sometimes, yeah?”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” A very un-regal giggle slipped her lips, juvenile in its conniving yet ethereal all the same, and Mario couldn’t help but feel especially proud of himself. “So we’ll meet at the carriage hold Thursday at dawn, then? Plenty enough time to escape before Toadsworth catches on.”

Her proposal didn’t surprise him; it had become customary, after all, to act as her guard any time she ventured beyond the palace walls. This made her invitation no less sacred to him. “You can count on me, Princess.”

Peach took a moment to breathe in the fresh spring evening, exhale her worries, and as their walk resumed, her hand found his, small and light but present and real and warm. “Oh, Mario,” she laughed, “you’re my hero!”

You’re my hero…

Another rush of oxygen hit his brain, and she was gone once more. Memories of golden hair in the waning light of sunset were washed out in smudges of green and brown and red — his fingers digging into the earth, damp from a recent summer rain, a trickle of blood dripping from his bottom lip onto the backs of his hands.

Some hero he was.

A familiar pressure welled within his chest, and he huffed in relief. Anger. It made his heart pump harder and brought his surroundings back into focus and flooded him with unbearable energy, and he was finally able to clamor to his feet, spitting blood so he could breathe properly. Turning towards the gauntlet’s nearest springboard, he wiped his sleeve over his mouth and let that rage consume him once more, let himself believe again that it wasn’t rage at all, but hope. Hope in its rawest, most painful form.

She was counting on him. He would bring her home. He would have pleasant evening walks in the gardens with her again, he would laugh with her over tea and cakes, he would ensure no similar misfortune ever befell her again. Maybe he would even tell her that he loved her, just so he could say he no longer held any secrets from her. And until that day came, he would train and train and train until no force, earthly or cosmic, could stand in his way.

How could you let this happen?

That fragile illusion of hope burst into flames, its fire coursing through Mario’s veins, but now that he was on his feet again, he made no further effort to fool himself. With a final, sharp breath, he lunged forward—

“Basta così!”

Something caught his left wrist, and the unexpected intrusion snuffed Mario’s fire, like water tossed on a blazing bed of coals. He clenched his jaw and smoldered uselessly for a moment, quivering with unspent energy, giving his captor a chance to free him without provocation. The grasp ensnaring him only tightened.

“Lasciami andare, Lu.” He kept his voice as steady as possible, deathly quiet and low, because he knew it would shake if he raised it any louder, and he couldn’t afford to be perceived as weak.

“No.” Luigi’s voice was equally unwavering. “I’ve let this go on long enough. You’re coming home.”

Mario scoffed. Oh, now his timid little brother was choosing to stand his ground. Now, of all times, for all purposes—! He lurched forward to free himself. He didn’t have time for such games.

Luigi moved with him easily, and before Mario could reestablish his footing, he was yanked backwards by the arm so hard that his vision went blurry and his legs briefly gave out beneath him.

But he didn’t have time to collapse. Luigi powered ahead, and Mario was forced to twist his body in the same direction and stumble along behind him, and by the time his surroundings stopped shifting they were well past the athletic center’s gate and into the streets of Toad Town.

What in the Eight Realms was going on? His brother was strong, but he was stronger. It should have been easy to pull free or at least anchor himself and force an impasse, but he wouldn’t slow down.

“Let me go, Luigi,” he repeated in their mother tongue, half so the dozens of Toads craning their stubby necks as he was dragged past couldn’t eavesdrop and half because his grasp on the English language was one of the first things to go when he was upset.

“You really think I’m that useless?” Luigi didn’t even look over his shoulder as he responded in the same tongue, yet his voice pierced through the ambiance of the streets. “I don’t need a missing friend and a dead brother.”

Another white-hot burst of fury flared within Mario, and he tried once again to break free (once again, to no avail). Useless? A “missing friend”? A princess — their Princess! — was abducted by a notoriously homicidal warlord who promised to kill her and seize her kingdom by force unless he was met with unconditional surrender, and all his brother cared about was how he was perceived? How these events affected him?

Mario was the only living person with any chance of bringing her home safely, or at least alive. He’d devoted himself to that cause wholeheartedly and without hesitation. Fought and trained and redefined himself over the past two months while waiting for royal spies to figure out where she was actually being held. He’d never thought Luigi to be so selfish, that he’d stand in his way. That he’d sooner trade Peach’s life for his. Did she really mean that little to him? The very thought nauseated him. Or maybe those were hunger pangs.

They arrived at their shared cottage in short order, and Mario spit one last mouthful of blood into the grass before he could be dragged onto the porch and through the door. This wasn’t just selfish. This was betrayal of the highest order.

Luigi all but tossed him inside, and only then did he let go. Mario seethed at his green-and-blue-clad back as he shut and locked the door, rubbing his wrist absentmindedly, stimulating the once-restricted blood flow. Betrayed by the last person he would ever have suspected. The one person who should have been supporting him, who he’d thought already was supporting him before today. He held his internal fire close at bay, ready to make his disappointment and disapproval clear, and with a heavy sigh, Luigi turned to face him—

“This isn’t your fault, Mario.”

Mario’s belligerence fizzled out. Where there was once fire, there was now ice, still and cold.

“...What?”

“This isn’t your fault.” Luigi enunciated each word carefully as he approached his older brother. “N-no one blames you for this except for you. So you’re not proving anything to anyone by torturing yourself, bro, okay?”

For a long moment, all Mario could do was gape in bewilderment. Not once since the Princess’ abduction had a word been uttered about blame. There was no need, he'd just as quickly assumed: anyone with two functioning brain cells knew exactly who was to blame, and verbalizing accusations wouldn’t get her home any faster, so he bore his cross with a heavy heart and his head held high.

Even Luigi had never spoken up on the matter. Mario just assumed that meant he agreed. Why bother kicking someone that’s already down?

“I-I…” Mario swallowed. No. No, he was lying. Reality was sinking in and he was lying in a last-ditch effort to defend what hadn’t already been lost. He knew just as well as Mario that… and yet he…

Selfish. Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“I’m her guard, Luigi,” he finally answered, and unpleasant but ever-familiar heat rose once more within him, making his face and ears tingle. “It’s my job to protect her! Literally my job!”

“Yeah, during the day! But you’re acting like she was nabbed under your watch! You’re acting like everyone expects you to be on guard twenty-four-seven!” He drew closer to lay a hand on Mario’s left shoulder; what should have been comfortable and familiar instead felt foreign and cumbersome. “The truth is, you were exactly where you were supposed to be when it happened: in bed, conked out.”

A strike of lightning couldn’t have hit as hard as those words.

Mario jerked away from his brother’s touch, nostrils flared, breath coming to him far too quickly now. If he grit his teeth any tighter, he was certain they’d crack. Yes, he’d been asleep that night. He’d protected his Princess like always during the day and left her to fend for herself at sundown and he’d never forgive himself for it. So much for not kicking someone while they’re down.

“Thanks,” he huffed. “Very helpful reminder.”

“Mario, that’s not what—” Luigi sagged backwards, his eyes rolling to the ceiling in exasperation, as if he was the one who’d been slighted, and he cursed beneath his breath before refocusing. “She was never your sole responsibility. Everyone knows that but you. And no one wants to see you run yourself into the ground like this. Th-they trust you! They love you! Seeing how much guilt you're drowning in, seeing how badly you’re hurting, that hurts them, and—”

A deep, shaking breath. Mario tapped his foot impatiently, his fists clenched.

“A-and it hurts me too!" Luigi finally confessed. "Mario, you’re not the only victim here! How do you think I’ve been handling all of this?”

“Forget about that!” Mario fired back. “Just imagine what she’s going through! Can you think about something other than yourself for once and look at the bigger picture?!”

Alarms sounded deep in the recesses of his brain, warning signals, crying a mantra of Too far, too far, too far. He didn’t care. He couldn’t afford to care.

“She wouldn’t want this either! If she was here—”

That was the final straw. Putting words in the Princess’ mouth— what little patience or composure Mario still held, already stretched thin, snapped.

“Well she’s not!” He stamped his foot like a child throwing a tantrum, grasping Luigi’s arm and forcing him to look directly into his eyes. “Don’t— don’t you dare tell me what she’d say or what she’d do! You don’t have that right! Because you’re not her, and she’s not…”

Mario blinked. Had… had Luigi always looked this tired? His eyes, normally so cheerful and blue, appeared dull and gray, wide with regret and brimming with unshed tears. And there were bags under those eyes too, and overgrown flyaways poking through his normally well-groomed mustache, and…

“...here.” All of his bravado, all of his energy, left him as he whispered that final word.

How long had it been since he’d fulfilled his role as the older brother? Peach was Luigi’s friend too. He was every bit as much Mario's responsibility as Peach was.

“I don’t need a missing friend and a dead brother.”

Only in the ensuing stillness did Mario realize how terribly he shook. He felt both weightless and impossibly leaden, cold and clammy, trembling not in outrage or determination, but something far meeker, far more pathetic: fear.

He was no hero. He was an idiot who’d failed someone he claimed to love and was desperate to make things right, no matter the personal cost. He was a useless brother that dealt with his own inadequacies by lashing out at those who cared for him most. He was nothing.

“Weegee…”

Luigi swallowed, taking a deep, slow breath before responding. “Martyring yourself isn’t the answer. I mean, think for a minute here. You can’t save her if you get yourself killed first.”

It overtook Mario again, a wave of unwelcome emotion, and his knees wobbled beneath him, threatening to buckle.

“Then… then what do you suggest I do? Huh? Clearly you have more answers than I do! So tell me what to do!” He let go of Luigi’s arms to grasp his overall straps and pull him down, searching his face for those fabled answers. There was no spite in his words or his actions. He shouted at and jostled his brother not in anger, but in pure helplessness. “Tell me what to do!”

The uncertainty etched into Luigi’s face didn’t go away completely, but he buried it beneath something harder, more determined. He braced his gloved hands against Mario’s shoulders, grounding and steady.

“I’ll tell you exactly what you’re going to do,” he said, his voice low yet firm. “You’re going to sit right there on that couch, or on the floor, or wherever you feel like, and you’re gonna cry and scream and get all of this pent-up anger out of your system. And then — look at me, Mario, listen!” He jostled the elder brother back, shaking his shoulders. “Then you’re going to eat something. Okay?” He smiled then, the strain of it contorting his face into some pitiful mimicry of humor. “We can’t have you wasting away when the Princess sees you again, yeah? What would she say?”

Mario’s breath hitched in his throat, suddenly swollen shut.

What would she say? Maybe she would rush forward and cup his cheeks, demanding to know what happened and if he was alright, as if he was the one who had been swept away in the dead of night. Maybe she would be so exhausted and so weakened that she didn’t notice; maybe she would only have the strength to smile as he took her battered body into his arms, her face pale but her eyes vibrant. Maybe her gaze would be glassy and there would be nothing left to hold but an empty shell that had once been his best friend, her fate sealed the moment she’d chosen to place her trust in him.

Or maybe he would die long before he reached her. If only he could trust anyone else to save her, he would have been perfectly fine with that outcome. It was the least he deserved. But that would be far too easy, wouldn’t it? What would become of her then? What would become of Luigi?

He would be free of his suffering, and it would fall directly onto their shoulders instead.

How could you let this happen?

The breath trapped in his throat forced its way back out, some mix between a cough and a hiccup, and finally his knees gave out. He held on tighter and sunk his face into his twin’s shirt collar, and he tried to apologize, he tried to beg forgiveness, but the only sound he could produce was a breathless, almost primal whine.

“Ecco.” Luigi’s voice cracked yet remained soft as he sank to the ground with him, cradling his head close. “Sfogati. Ti sono vicino, fratello.”

Mario’s intended response came out once more as a whine. Ti voglio bene. Ho paura. Aiutami. Ti prego aiutami. Each effort to speak proved increasingly futile until he gave up entirely, surrendering to the wordless screams and sobs and tears his overworked, underfed body forced from him. And Luigi just held him, his fingers brushing through his hair as he fell apart.

Thunder rumbled distantly outside, heralding another summer rain.

~~~

“I’m sorry.”

By the time Mario was able to speak, he still didn’t have much to show for it; his voice was too hoarse to do anything but whisper, and the pounding ache in his head prevented him from doing even that very well.

Luigi shushed him, readjusting his head in his lap. “Just relax.”

“I don’t think you’re selfish,” he continued anyway, curling into himself tighter, soaking in as much of his brother’s body heat as he could. “Or useless.”

“I know you don’t.”

“I didn’t have any right to go off on you like that.”

“In your shoes, I doubt I’d be handling things much better.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And I forgive you. Now we’re even.”

This remark wasn’t quite enough to make Mario smile, but it did make him feel lighter, if only a bit. From his spot on the floor, he watched the rain patter against the living room window, dark and dreary and soothing. With the rain outside and Luigi’s fingers still combing through his curls, he felt properly sleepy for the first time in ages, a feeling far more pleasant than the exhaustion that had plagued him for eight, coming up on nine weeks.

Come to think of it, when was the last time he’d slept in his own bed? Most nights he’d find the nearest wall to slump against or a decent patch of grass to crash in when he couldn’t make his body cooperate any longer. And when was the last time he’d had a proper meal? Luigi had forced him to sit down and eat a packet of crackers a day or two ago, Toad brought him soup sometime last week and refused to leave until he downed at least half of it, but…

“Weegee?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry.”

The hand in his hair stilled, and the response came after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“Well duh. Of course you are.” His voice wavered, yet Mario could tell he was smiling. “What’d’ya want? We’ve got plenty enough to make anything. Don’t hold back.”

Mario hummed, closing his eyes. Making that choice on his own was a mental process he didn’t have the resources for. “Surprise me.”

Luigi vocalized his approval, but he didn’t move to stand quite yet. Instead, the hand in Mario’s hair found his own hand, and he gladly took it, permitting himself that comfort at least.

“Hey Mario? Can you… promise me something first?”

Mario nodded, a small and rapid movement of his head. He knew what was coming: Promise me you’ll eat everything I put in front of you. Promise me you’ll take a bath. Promise me you’ll get into clean clothes and sleep on a bed tonight. He was all too ready to agree. It was the least he owed his long-suffering brother.

“When you save the Princess… promise me you’ll come home too. Okay?”

Mario’s eyes snapped back open. The rain still fell against the window before him, steady and unending.

Easy enough to promise, at least in theory. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to make more pleasant memories with his friends, with his love, with his brother especially. There were so many adventures he still wanted to go on. So many things he wanted to see and do. But if worst came to worst, and he had to lay his life down to save Peach’s… he’d already made up his mind.

“This isn’t your fault.”

He took in a deep breath through his nostrils, exhaled it slowly through his lips. Luigi was strong and selfless. He’d had the strength to lie just so he could ease Mario’s woes. The least Mario could do was offer up a comforting lie of his own.

“Yeah.” He nodded again, and if maybe he held Luigi’s hand a bit too tightly, that was okay. “Yeah, I think I can promise that.”

#tw blood #alternate title:#'mario can be a real dick when he's stressed and luigi has the patience of a g*ddamn saint'#sorry this turned out longer than anticipated 😅#this ties into untarnished but it can be a Realistic Kidnapping au standalone too!#super mario bros #smb #mario #luigi #mario x peach #mareach #peaches' fancy fics

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strong-with-the-sarcasm · 2 days

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Part 17: the stars are shining their brightest light

"We can get lost in fears that we make for days that feel black as night, but there in the dark, you'll find that the stars are shining their brightest light." -If You Love Someone by The Veronicas

Regent Masterlist Part 16

“This is my girlfriend, Queen Regent Jasmine of the Infinite Realms.”

If there was ever a way to silence the Bat-family, it was with an introduction like that.

Sure, Jason knew the family was fully aware of Jasmine Nightingale (thanks to Replacement), but he was positive that he had just rocked their world by just casually dropping the fact that Jazz was not only royalty of the same dimension but also ruled it in the stead of the true monarch… He was certain that his family would figure out what he wasn’t saying soon enough.

Beautifully executed and dinner hadn’t even started.

The shock that permeated the room was delicious, feeding his ego as he led Jazz to their seats the furthest from Bruce, with Jazz safe at his side where he could intercept any perceived attack aimed at her. He’d ignored the rule about weapons at the table, packing his favorite desert eagle at his back and an ecto-gun strapped to his ankle that was a thoughtful gift from Danny. Jasmine had her bracelets uncharmed for the evening, desiring transparency with his family, and he knew how quickly she could summon her armor and Faithkeeper. They were as prepared as they could be and it made him proud that he had someone like Jazz to watch his back.

(He loved fighting back-to-back with her.) (Almost as much as he loved keeping her safe.) (The Lady and her knight.) (He was in love.)

It was Dickolas that spoke first, barely containing his excitement, “Little Wing, I’m so happy for you!” Which allowed pandemonium to follow from the rest of his siblings.

“Oh my gosh-”

“A member of royalty-” “-you’re-”

“Jason pulled-”

“gorgeous!”

“New sister?”

“-is willing-”

“A queen?!”

“-to date you?”

“Nice one man.”

The once-Revenant could practically taste Jazz’s amusement, relishing in her amusement-bafflement-love as they waited quietly for the others to settle down so the couple could answer the questions no doubt waiting for them.

The first question Jazz could answer was probably the one that she dreaded to answer.

“How’d you meet?” Tim asked, eyes switching from Jason to her and back again.

Jason was swift to reply, “At a bookstore.” “Got to talking and Jason asked me out.” Jazz added with a soft smile at the memory of a blushing Jason.

The dark-haired girl at the table, Cassandra Wayne, signed something far too quick for Jazz to read completely. Though Stephanie translated right away, “Cass asked how long it took Jason to ask you out.”

Jazz chuckled a bit and set down her cutlery to sign her response, though the movements were somewhat stilted- she hadn’t used sign language since the last meeting with Heppa, a mute acropolis amazonian that once acted as Jazz’s sparring partner while under Pandora’s tutelage.

Some signs were muscle memory (stop, peace, fight), but others were difficult to recall. The ghost equivalent of ASL (ESL or ecto sign language) was far easier to fall back into than ASL, given that it also used emotions to communicate. [Two days, nervous, very cute.] Jazz signed, projecting the fondness-love she felt for her soulmate as she did. Cass tilted her head, the faint prickle of curiosity evaporating into the air almost as soon as Jazz registered it, but one of the other men at the table turned the attention away from the two women’s silent conversation. “I can’t believe little wing got a queen to date him!” Dick exclaimed.

“Tt, a member of royalty should have better standards than to settle for Todd.” That comment came from the youngest Wayne, Damian, where he sat to his father’s left. The head of the house studied Jazz with a quiet air of protect-wariness.

Ah, yes. They’d met as their alter egos- her the Regent and him the Batman. How concerning it must be for her to find her way into his son’s life and to his dining table with his other children. Bruce no doubt saw the evidence of the extent she would go to for Phantom.

One slash, two, three Blood is on your hands already.

Fourth, fifth slash Ask the ghosts if honor matters, buried amongst the ash. Slash six, seven Sharpen your love into a weapon

“Jason is a wonderful person and partner.” Jazz replied, electing to ignore the DadBat’s stare into the side of her skull. Cass’s hands moved again, a bit slower than the first time, much to Jazz’s relief. [Do ghosts use sign?]

[Yes. Emotions with words.] Jazz answered with a small smile as she once again projected her emotions, fondness-anxiety-amusement, for those present even if they couldn’t register them.

“What are those shadows behind you?” Duke blurted out, eyes still locked onto something over Jazz’s shoulder.

“Shades.” The manor was full of weak shades, no doubt belonging to ancestors of the Wayne lineage. “Weak ones” she clarified.

Bruce spoke up this time, “The weakest form of ghosts?” he asked for clarification as if he wasn’t in possession of the Ghost Files, which she knew had information on shades.

(Among other beings.) (She tried not to think about her own file.) (The evidence of patricide and matricide.)

“Yes. These ones are probably just curious about my presence.” It was true, as far as she could tell. Jazz was the most liminal being in existence, after all, not to mention the Crown of Fire she bared as Regent. Thankfully, she couldn’t make out any hostility from the ancestral shades, not with her permission to be here and an escort of a Fraid member (Jason) was not an intrusion.

“You are aware we know your identity,” Damian stated, with a glare that would cut down weak men. “And that you know ours.”

(Well, no shit Sherlock.) (Jason’s Red Hood.) (No need for a corkboard and red string.) “Demon spawn-” Jason growled, but Jazz took his hand in hers to calm down the anger she could feel bubbling up to the surface. He took a deep breath in and out before he squeezed her hand back. “Damian. I trust Jazz with my life, she won’t betray us or our secret identities.”

“Phantom trusted you with the Ghost Files. If he considers you worthy, then so will I.” Jazz swore.

Dinner passed far quicker than Jason expected. He sat back and basked in his Lady’s presence at the dining table as she answered questions, as they had agreed before arriving. Bruce hadn’t spoken much, no doubt content to watch the interactions between his kids and Jazz.

Jason hoped the old man could see how wonderful his Lady was. She was his guiding hand through darkness and fire, made his worries melt away, and offered him peace in his second chance at life.

Gave him her heart, him, the eight-heads in a duffel bag crime lord. Let him meet her little brother, her reason for surviving thus far, her world. Let Jason’s scarred and bloody hands hold her close to his still-beating heart and Proto-core.

He couldn’t offer her much, not really, but he could offer her a piece of him- this, his family, his Fraid. It wasn’t a lot, not when compared to what Jazz had given him before he ever knew her name, but it was all he had to give that couldn’t be offered so easily.

(Jazz would never hurt his family.) (Not unless they hurt him first.)

One day, the two of them would be comfortable in this manor side by side, but not now with the newness and wariness he could feel from his Fraid

Perhaps he shouldn’t ask Bruce for that favor quite yet.

A/N: I am thrilled to announce that with this update the Regent is no longer in Hiatus! With the AO3 version comes more fuel to write (comments & kudos) and of course that gives me more encouragement to write. There will be gaps between posts still, but I will be posting parts again. AO3 link in Regent masterlist, parts combined into longer chapters. beta'd by the awesome @meditating-cat

Thanks for reading!

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc au #dc x dp crossover #jazz fenton #regent!jazz #hardcover ship #jason todd #anger management ship #jazz x jason #the regent is officially off hiatus!#what favor is jason talking about #i hope i haven't been THAT subtle #subtle? never heard of her #did you know that Jason Todd is a simp is a tag on AO3 #which means #that the truth is becoming known #meeting the family #with the batfamily comes many questions

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idksmtms · 3 days

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You Are Not One Of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 6

Full Request P2

AN: GUYS! Firstly, I’m back!!! Here’s a surprise update!! Secondly, omfgggg I found new pictures of Toby Stephens so you KNOW I had to make a new header to incorporate them. That man is the inspiration for this series so it is a MUST.

The beginning is a bit of a filler to kind of answer some side questions about how things are changed between this world and the original Percy Jackson world and what I’m keeping the same

Most of the action is at the end so pls stick through it because it starts to get intense.

Also, they don’t call him Percy at first but like it works with the story and ideas have for later so idk, deal with it

+ my summaries are just getting worse and worse I’m so sorry

Summary: Time is running out. Sally and Poseidon meet, but there is still a big decision to make.

Word count: 6.8k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), non-explicit depictions of giving birth, giving your child away, (please let me know if I missed any)

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

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

You met Sally on the beach at midnight. Poseidon had agreed to meet her but the true test was getting her to walk deep enough to submerge her head. You had spent an hour trying to tell her that everything would be alright, that both of you would be able to breathe under Poseidon’s protection, but you could see that she was still sceptical. You grabbed her hand and began toward the water. At this time of night it was at a slow crawl up the beach, and you looked forward to dipping your feet into it. You felt a shiver pass through her but you just held onto her hand tighter and continued dragging her into the water. Both of you walked until you were waist deep in the water.

“Everything alright?” You asked, but Sally just nodded. You could tell her mind was running, it was difficult for mortals to take in the knowledge of the gods, but you just continued until you were shoulder-deep, the taller waves washing over your face and hair. When you could no longer feel the sand under your feet, you submerged yourself entirely and let out a deep breath to sink to the floor. It took her a moment, but Sally followed suit and you watched the shock register on her face when she took a breath in and inhaled nothing but air.

“See? I told you,” you replied jokingly, and she just laughed, swimming around, walking on the surface, enjoying herself to her heart’s content. You watched on with a smile, almost like a proud parent, when you felt a presence behind your shoulder. Arms wrapped around you and a soft beard pressed to your cheek. You felt instantly warm, and you turned around and pressed your mouth to his. He chuckled against your lips, kissing you again and again before your laughter could no longer keep your mouths together.

“Hello, my love,” you whispered, caressing his cheek. There was something so jovial in the air, as if you were all filled with hope and happiness and everything was just… right. He pressed his forehead to yours and reached down to caress your stomach. You always marvelled at how large his hand was, but soon your stomach would be its rival!

You turned around and found Sally standing a few paces away, smiling simply like a friend who was happy to see their friend happy. It felt so… nice, that for a moment tears came to your eyes. In Asgard, in Valhalla, you had Loki as your only close friend. Even with that friendship, there had always been something behind it. You were friends simply because both of you were gods, you were friends simply because both of you happened to live among the Aesir together, that there were no better options for friendship. While you still loved Loki, and a good friendship had bloomed from those circumstances, knowing that you had a friend because both of you chose to be friends, was something entirely different.

“My love,” you held onto his hand and moved him closer to where Sally stood, “meet Sally Jackson,” you introduced, the bright smile on your face bordering on artificial with how nervous you now were.

“Nice to meet you, uh, sir?” She tilted her head and both you and Poseidon laughed. He shook his head though his shoulders eased down slightly.

“Poseidon is fine, it is nice to meet you Sally,” he reached out his hand and she shook it gingerly. You were sure she could feel his power through that simple handshake. Physical contact for a human with a god could be overwhelming if the god willed it. You beamed proudly at both of them, but especially at your husband for deigning to be so kind as to offer a mortal this much respect. “My wife has told me much about you.” Your stomach turned over and over each time he called you his wife, as if everything in the world settled into its rightful place for a moment.

“All good things, I promise, Sally,” you added with a cheeky smile, but she just laughed, digging her toes into the sand.

“I’m an innocent person, what bad things could there possibly be to tell?” She joked, but you just raised an eyebrow at her as you remembered one night from a few weeks ago when she was laying on your couch after having a bottle of pink wine all to herself, kicking her feet in the air like a child and giggling about the male anatomy.

“Mhm, ok,” you muttered, but a small laugh still managed to huff out of you and you pressed your cheek to Poseidon’s arm. He pulled you close right after, almost encasing you entirely in his arms so your head peaked out just over his biceps and his chin rested on top of your head.

“So, you’re like the god of all this, huh?” Sally asked, looking at Poseidon with raised eyebrows. “So if you’re real, does that mean Zeus and Hades exist?” Poseidon cleared his throat and nodded, a little frown creasing his eyebrows just slightly.

“My brothers do indeed exist as well, one is currently throwing a rather useless feast for the gods on Mount Olympus so he can force his cupbearer to prostrate the new chalice Hephaestus has made for him, while the other chooses to ignore the invitation to play fetch with Cerberus over the fields of Elysium. I’m sure you can guess which is which,” he sighed tiredly, but you giggled into his arm.

You never tired of hearing his stories of Mount Olympus, of the ways in which his brothers had not changed one bit and how your previous friends were doing now. You had been angry with all of them once, seethed with rage at even the thought of Ares or Zeus, but after an eon you’ve slowly let go of your anger. You can understand why you were the target of their suspicions, if it had happened in Valhalla, surely any of the Greek Gods would be the first suspect if they had been visiting. You only wished your father and Zeus could come to terms with their own anger and release this hellish bond they had placed on you and Poseidon. Too much time had been wasted on such petty nonsense, especially since the lightning bolt had been found so soon after. Whoever had stolen it, surely had not been serious in their thievery to leave it to be so easily found. And whoever it was, because the mystery had continued for these last millenia, had done nothing of the sort again, so what did it matter now?

“I would say to give them my well wishes but… you know,” you shrugged, and while Poseidon’s frown deepened, you only smiled and chuckled lightheartedly, moving your hand up to rub at the wrinkles on his brow until his face relaxed again. While you had begun to joke about your situation, he still was not ready to release his anger.

“I cannot stay long. It is already criminal for me to have been away from the feast this long without at least sending a gift in apology and I cannot possibly sacrifice another dolphin for Zeus’s new aquarium project on Olympus.” He sighed again, rubbing his forehead and you reached up and kissed him gently, a short but important distraction. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the worry that he seemed to carry everywhere with him, but you just pressed a kiss to his cheek and gently began rubbing his shoulders and arms.

Poseidon turned away from you and looked at Sally with a warm smile, as if a thank you for the moment she quietly allowed the both of you, and he pulled something out of thin air and held out to her.

“If you are ever in trouble, or require a godly hand, flip this coin into some water, and you shall receive whatever it is you wish for,” he dropped the coin into the palm of her hand and she gawped at it like one of the fish that swam past her.

You smiled warmly up at your husband as she examined the drachma. You caressed his bearded cheek and pressed onto the tips of your toes to guide your foreheads together. He smiled, though you felt it more than saw it, and he shifted to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I already miss you,” you whispered, and he huffed a chuckle but did not refute your statement.

“Every moment away from you is one moment spent in the body of Prometheus,” he sighed, and you almost teared up, cupping his cheek and pressing your mouth to his firmly. He kissed you with a sort of reckless abandon that he lacked everywhere else in his life, and you took joy in being able to turn this poised god into a rushed mess.

Sally cleared her throat behind the two of you, a blush on her face as she thought about how far the both of you were willing to take this makeout session with another person present, but you just began giggling against his lips and he put you down.

“Goodbye, my love,” he whispered to you, stealing another peck before stepping away. “And goodbye to you, Sally Jackson, I hope you learnt whatever it is you wanted to know.” Then in his place was a flurry of bubbles and your husband was nowhere to be found.

You smiled at the sand underneath you sadly for a moment, wishing his arms were back around you, before taking a deep breath in and going over to Sally who was staring down at the drachma in her hand.

“Are you ready to go?” You asked softly, gently touching her elbow. She looked up at you and nodded, but she wasn’t smiling. Her eyes seemed somewhere else, and you just nodded in response, walking beside her as you both slowly made your way back up the beach and out of the water, completely dry.

You hadn’t seen Sally for a week after that. Usually she would be the one to come to your door with an invitation to do something or other during the day, usually something to just waste time but a fun way to just be in the company of someone else. But since the night you had taken her to meet Poseidon, she had not seeked you out. Every day you waited for the knock on your door, the jovial voice that called for you to open up because ‘surely you aren’t doing anything more important than spending time with your bestie!’ But nothing came.

It was one of those days when, despite doing nothing differently, the very air in the world seemed to weigh extra heavily. You had woken up and instantly felt a frown pull on your face. The weather was rather muggy and a sheet of pale grey clouds stretched until the horizon, bathing everything in their muted light.

You had tottered around the cabin doing little things to keep yourself from falling further into the cloying sadness that seemed to hang at the back of your throat, but when there were no more countertops to wipe and no more floors to sweep, you sat on the couch and stared out the window and when the baby kicked again, you felt the emotion wash over you.

You pressed your hand to your mouth as you cried, biting into it to hide your sobs. The pain in your heart seemed to seep into your entire body. Your hands trembled despite how tightly you clenched them into fists. Your eyes continued to leak tears despite how you squeezed them shut.

Every time the baby kicked your heart soared then plummeted like a bird giving up mid flight. You could feel the little butterfly flutters in your stomach, the soft feeling that was the most odd yet most endearing thing you had ever felt. But you couldn’t help but think about how it would not last much longer. Soon the child would be born, and these kicks would become visible, yet you would never have the chance to see them. You would never be able to see its chubby little hands grasp for the air, its plush legs kick wildly into the air. These thoughts plagued you, never letting you sit still for long enough, because if you did, you would react the way you have just done. You would never recover from your tears, would never function again.

You had never cried this much before your pregnancy. Even when you had been forced away from Poseidon, you had cried for a week straight and then only a few times after that. Now it seemed you cried at every minor inconvenience, at every thought about your baby or your husband. You looked up to the mantle above the fireplace and gazed at the pearls arranged in their shells.

There was a knock at the door and you shot up, placing a hand on your stomach, apologising to it for the jostling. You wiped haphazardly at your face as you walked to the door, hoping to recover any semblance of normalcy before exposing yourself to whoever had deigned to visit you. You stood at the door and took a deep breath in before opening it.

Sally looked just shy of solemn and she was staring at the door, not you. You could see that she was holding the drachma, flipping it between her fingers mindlessly as if she had spent the last seven days only doing that.

“I’ll do it.” She announced simply, not daring to meet your gaze yet. Your heart began beating so hard that you were sure she could hear it too. “I will do it.” She repeated slower, and let loose a breath that seemed to take away all the weight on her shoulders. She finally turned to look at you, and her eyes were bloodshot and a little puffy. Your mouth began to quiver and your face seemed to crumple in slow motion but when the first whimper fell from your mouth and the first tear dropped from your eye, she was hugging you.

“But I have a few conditions,” she whispered, and all you could do was nod, because you didn’t care about anything else. You would do anything, you would bring stars down from the sky if it meant your baby would be with Sally, your baby would be safe and happy.

“Come inside,” you sobbed out, smiling broadly at her as you continued to shake with your tears, “come inside and we can talk.” She nodded, smiling a watery smile so similar to your own, and stepped inside.

“I want the kid to know as much as possible from the get-go. I won’t be mama, I’m Aunt Sally. They’ll know their parents love them, but cannot be with them.” You nodded vigorously, smiling brightly at Sally.

“Ofcourse, yes, I agree completely. Tell them everyday that we love them, that this situation is for the best and they will understand someday. Just… just make sure they know we love them more than anything that has ever existed.” You smiled and nodded again, as if reaffirming to yourself that this was real, and things may actually be alright in the end.

Sally smiled in return, reaching forward and patting your folded hands gently, a warm, knowing kind of smile on her face that made you feel somehow more hopeful.

“And I want you to send me some type of sign, I don’t know, like a message on a steamy window or something, whatever it is. Just a sign that you’re there, that you’re looking out for the kid, and that everything on your end is fine for the moment.” She raised an eyebrow at you with this, and you just chuckled quietly.

“Of course. Though I won’t be able to send them often, I don’t want anyone to stumble upon your location, but every so often, a little blue butterfly will appear wherever you are, and you will know that I am watching, that I am wishing to be reunited with my child.” Your head dipped slightly as you opened your palms and watched them as a beautiful butterfly began to appear in the middle of your cupped hands. Its wings shined in the light, bordered by an opaque black.

“It’s called a giant blue morpho,” you told her, nudging your hand up so the butterfly could flap into the air and make its way to Sally, resting just on the tip of her finger. “They are found in what you call Peru today. They are my favourite species of butterfly,” you smiled dazedly, eyes transfixed on the little creature that gently flapped its wings every so often to stay on Sally’s finger. Sally reached out with her other hand and touched the tip of her index finger to the very edge of the butterfly’s wing, barely even a hint of a touch, but it burst into tiny little pieces like it was made of the most fragile glass and dispersed into the air like glitter on the wind. She stared at her empty hands, eyes wide and mouth tipped slightly open, but you only sighed with a tired smile. “The ones I create are not real, more like images of the real thing.” Sally nodded but you could tell she was still a little freaked out, unused to seeing you use your powers so freely, so obviously. Your smile became sympathetic and you cleared your throat, hoping to move the conversation on. “Any other conditions?”

“Uh, yes, um, yeah, sorry, yes, I want a coin for the kid too. I want them to have that lifeline as well, if anything ever goes too far and they don’t know what else to do. It’s a connection to their father. I want that for them.” Her tone was firmer this time, as if this was one of the more non-negotiable topics, and you nodded in response.

Sally had mentioned some stories about her own father, a strained relationship from what you had pieced together, a certain lack of trust, and you could see that she wanted better for this child. You almost hugged her in that moment, promised her that Poseidon would not be like that, that he would do what he could for the child in whichever capacity he was capable under such difficult and complex circumstances, but you stayed silent and simply nodded. A promise that things would be better.

“And… I don’t think they should be told about all this stuff until it’s time for them to go to this camp. If they’re going to grow up in the human world, they don't need to be confused about what they’re seeing versus all this magic stuff I might be telling them. If it’s going to be a secret, then it needs to be a secret from them too, for their own safety. And that way they can go to school as well, a normal school for normal kids, for as long as possible. I know they won’t be normal, but if you’re posing them as even half human, then I want them to have that experience, to know what it’s like to just be a child and go to school, and not worry about anything else.” Sally paused for a second, taking in a deep breath and releasing it before looking you straight in the eyes.

“You said this child will unite worlds. You said this child will be capable of great things, of-of breaking down everything all the gods once knew, but I think they have potential for more than that. I think they can make things better for humans as well, or at least the human children of these gods. If this child knows what it’s like to be mortal, if they know how to appreciate life and the fragility of everything, the sacredness of the time we have all been given…. Y/n, I think this child could change everything.”

You held your breath as she spoke, at the fire in her eyes and the way she leaned forward as if this was the most important thing to ever have been said, and maybe… maybe it was. The room was quiet for a few moments as you both sat in the words she had just spoken, at the many possibilities that had opened up before the two of you. At least five minutes had passed when Sally spoke up again.

“Ok, so tell me about this ‘camp half-blood’? What is it? Where-”

“I could not have asked for a better person to look after my child,” you interrupted. A watery smile overtook your face as you watched Sally. She could see how happy you were, at the sparkle in your eye she had only ever seen when you looked at your husband. “You will be a great mother, Sally Jackson.”

The remaining months of your pregnancy were rather blissful. You did not have to deal with any of the symptoms the poor mortals go through. Sally explained morning sickness and swollen ankles to you and you truly believed that if you had been mortal in that moment you would have begun praying to the Aesir and making sacrifices to Frigg and Freya for relief. Though you were not completely immune either, and occasionally a slight twinge in your back would force you to sit down and rest before continuing about your day like normal.

Nothing particularly eventful occurred, and Poseidon’s visits were more often concerned with laying on the ocean floor and discussing a hopeful future (because neither of you would entertain a possibility of anything else).

As the days passed by and the time of the birth neared, a feeling of something building began to permeate the air. A heaviness settled on your shoulders, as if you were a character in a story that didn’t know something big was about to occur, but the reader was yelling at the book, unable to change anything. You began watching out of your windows day and night as if someone would arrive unexpectedly, as if everything were about to explode, but you simply didn’t know when. And so you waited, waited for anything to happen, for someone to pop the balloon. And then your water broke.

On the day your son was born, a storm began. Grey clouds began to gather over the beach, and with every hour that ticked by, the winds began to rush faster and faster. Thunder crackled, and lightning flashed bright white in the depths of the thick grey clouds. There was something in the air, a certain heaviness that could only be felt by the gods, and you knew your time was up. Someone on Olympus knew that you were here, that there was to be a child with the blood of the Greek Gods in its veins, and they were getting close to finding you despite all yours and Poseidon’s magic working to hide your sanctuary. Zeus knew you were here.

Your labour was the most painful thing you had ever physically experienced. You had been imprisoned, stabbed, fallen so close to the brink of death in many a battle, but nothing could have prepared you for the sheer pain and exhaustion that came with having a child. It was as if the lack of any other symptoms during your pregnancy came back to make the experience ten times harder. It seemed to bloom from your core and spread outward until you wanted to writhe in pain and kick and scream and even cease to exist. Your skin burned, your insides clenched and released and clenched and released. Even your ribs began to feel like they were poking into your flesh and moving in and out of it with your every breath.

You lay back on the bed, eyes shut tight so all you could see was the reds and oranges of light passing over your eyelids. Your hands began to steam as you lost control of your powers before Sally pressed them into bowls of ice water she had brought up to your room. Every few minutes you screamed at the top of your lungs, releasing this guttural urge that seemed to push out of you.

In a small moment of clarity, when it seemed the baby needed a rest from pushing itself out of you, you looked toward Sally who stood by the end-table in your room and watched her. Her hands shook as she prepared towels and cold cloths for your forehead. Her face was pale, but stern, and she clenched her hands every few seconds to try and stifle any fear she was so clearly feeling. You began laughing, a breathless huffing where the sound was mostly just air pushing from your lungs. Your head was thrown back on the pillows and your chest glistened with sweat, cooling in the breeze that blew in from the open window before being bathed in sweat once more.

Sally turned to look at you, bewildered. You were such an odd sight, lying prostrate on the bed, arms spread slightly, hands immersed in bowls of water that were once full of ice, legs akimbo from your most recent bout of screaming and writhing, but here you were, laughing like someone had told you the funniest joke you had ever heard. She began to laugh with you, began to laugh at the incredulity of it all, at the fact that here she was in her early twenties, helping a goddess give birth before taking responsibility for a child that would change worlds. She laughed so much she began to cry.

“It’s ok Sally,” you whispered, trying to hurry the words out as you felt the pain begin to increase again. “It’s alright. I am so proud to call you my friend, and so glad to know my child will be raised by you.” Tears streamed from your eyes, and when the pain began again, you couldn’t tell why you had begun crying in the first place.

You didn’t know how long it took you to give birth to your son, but you were lost in a haze of pain, ebbing and flowing with it until it crescendoed to a new height you didn’t even know was possible, before releasing like popping the cork from a champagne bottle. You felt paralysed, your entire body throbbing, eyes sparking and patched with black. You were numb all over but so sensitive at the same time that you would have cried if even a fly had landed on you.

Slowly, you began to move your fingers, splashing them slightly in the bowls of water. Then your toes, a more painful task that shot tingles up your legs. You began blinking your eyes, hoping to clear your vision, and as the world came back into focus, there he was, standing above you with a little bundle wrapped in his arms. You stared up at Poseidon, stared up at your husband, as he cradled your baby.

His hair was dishevelled, as if he had walked through a hurricane. His cheeks were pale, as if he had lost as much blood as you had, but his ears were bright pink. His eyes were bright red and shedding tears, pouring them out like the waterfalls he controlled. He had not looked at you yet, had not noticed that you had returned to the world. He was enraptured with the child, swaying with it in his arms, whispering words you couldn’t hear over the rushing of your blood, touching its cheek with the tip of his index finger.

A noise came out of your lips, a gurgle and a yearning, keening, sound all in one. His eyes snapped to you, bright and brimming with a thousand words he couldn’t say. Tentatively, with the gentleness of a hummingbird, he sat down on the edge of the bed, as close to you as possible without touching you. He leaned forward and gently placed the bundle against your chest. You forced one of your arms up to wrap around it, to secure the fluffy pile of blankets to your chest, before looking down.

Thick, gurgling, sobs began to fall from your lips as you looked at the most beautiful child you had ever seen. A red, wriggly thing that would not win any awards for looking particularly beautiful, but he was the most precious thing you had ever seen. He had little wisps of blond hair, soft tufts against his scalp that began rising up as they dried and lightly tickled your chin. His hands and feet were so small. They were so small, and you weren’t sure if you had actually begun to burble about them to Poseidon.

The blanket he was wrapped in was baby blue, and he kept pushing his hands out of it to try and grab at the air, shifting his little body as much as he could. Poseidon reached over and adjusted it to cover his arms, stroking the top of the baby’s head. Your baby’s head.

He looked down at the both of you, his face flushed, eyes red and teary, hands shaking and chest tight with barely held sobs. He had never felt joy like this. He had been alive since the birth of Ancient Greece. He had seen cities built, empires fall, people rise to a greatness unheard of before, but nothing would ever compare to this joy. To see his wife and son together like this, something he would most likely never see again, made a sob choke itself from his throat.

You stared at your son, your little Perseus, with his eyes scrunched up and his tiny lips opening and shutting to let out soft grunts, and you began to sob again. Painful, heart wrenching sobs, like the wails of a banshee. Thunder cracked so loud outside that the entire cabin shook. Lightning flashed, so hot that it glowed blue, and Poseidon hovered himself over you and Perseus, just shy of laying on top of you. Perseus began to cry with you, the high-pitched wailing of a baby piercing the air. He began shushing you, soft sounds and affirmations slipping from his lips directed both at you and his son, trying to keep calm despite the desperation for your pain to cease. He had never heard such painful sounds.

“Please,” he whispered, “please do not cry. I am here, we are all here, together.” But you only shook your head, clutching Perseus tighter to your chest and staring up at Poseidon with wide, child-like eyes filled with pain and desperation and denial.

“I don’t want him to go! I don’t want to let him go!” You cried out, over and over and over. You kept repeating the words, stabbing him in the heart over and over as he sniffed and nodded, trying anything to get you to calm down. “Please, please, I don’t want to let him go.” Your voice cracked, and you began chewing on your lip, looking between Perseus and Poseidon like a lost child. He reached out and cupped your cheek, cradling your head in his hand, fingers splayed behind your ear. He stroked your cheek just under your eye, smearing your tears on your face, and began hushing louder. You gulped, once, twice, then breathed in and out shakily. Slowly, as the thunder quieted to a rumble outside, your breaths quieted, and you blinked less, just staring into Poseidon’s eyes. He smiled sadly, eyes wet with tears and bloodshot, and he nodded. “But he has to go,” you whispered, as if affirming between the both of you that this was the right decision. Again, Poseidon nodded, but this time you nodded in return.

Slowly, with one shaky arm, you pushed yourself up to sit straight on the bed, swinging your legs to the side as your body began to heal and dulled the pain and exhaustion in your limbs. You still felt shaky, and you knew this recovery would be slower than any others, but you continued moving, pushing yourself to stand so you could look out of the window with Perseus cradled in your arms.

The waves were crashing onto the beach furiously, cresting at even the farthest point your eyes could see, white capped and frothing as they attacked the shore. The dry sand higher up the beach moved in waves in the wind, and you could almost hear the little grains striking the front of the cabin. The wind howled, like Fenrir had been released to hunt you down and was announcing his presence. The clouds in the sky were almost black, and the lightning seemed to flash constantly. The thunder either crackled or rumbled but never ceased, not quieting for a moment, and you knew your time with Poseidon and Perseus had ended. Zeus knew something, or at least sensed something was off in this place, and he would soon come to find out himself if you all did not separate quickly. You turned to Poseidon, absentmindedly nuzzling your chin against the top of Perseus’s head.

“I will go to delay him, buy you some more time with Perseus.” You stared at him, face stoic, and he could not even begin to fathom what you were thinking. You took slow, shaky steps to reach him. He leaned forward and took a hold of your hips to steady you as you walked, allowing you the space to choose how close you wanted to be to him. You walked until the baby was pressed to both his chest and yours. You did not push further, fearing to hurt your Perseus in any way. You looked up at Poseidon, and pressed onto the tips of your toes so you could kiss him. It was gentle, your mouths just pressed together so you felt the plushness of each other’s lips but did nothing more. Neither of you tried to deepen the kiss, tried to take things any further. You stayed like that for a few moments, had another similar kiss, and when you pulled away, both of you had your eyes closed.

“Goodbye,” you whispered, so soft that not even the baby pressed to your chest would hear you, and when you opened your eyes, there was only an empty space in front of you.

You knew you did not have long. Zeus was closing in and you had to get Sally and Perseus out of here before they were discovered. You swayed with Perseus in your arms for a few moments, allowing yourself only that. You watched him yawn and smack his lips, scrunching his eyes shut and settling into your arms. You hummed a tune you remembered Frigg singing from your own childhood. You couldn’t quite remember the words, but the music was imprinted on your brain, and you hummed it to Perseus over and over until you knew too much time had passed for you to dilly-dally any longer.

“Sally!” You called through the closed door, hoping she was close enough to hear your raw voice. She was in the room in an instant, checking both you and the baby over, but you just smiled and shook your head. “There is no time, you and Perseus must leave. Zeus is suspicious, he has felt too much power here, has noticed a shift in the world, and he will begin investigating if this power does not dissipate.” You looked about the room for a moment before hobbling out and slowly making your way down the stairs.

“I know you’re a goddess and all but shouldn't you be taking it easy? You just gave birth, you should be laying down and letting yourself heal. You should be… you should be spending time with him before… you know.” But you only shook your head in reply, pursing your lips as pain shot through your legs with every step down the stairs.

“You need to go Sally. I hope all your things are gathered because there is simply no time to lose. You have your car parked nearby, start loading everything into it while I put some final defences in place for Perseus.” Your voice left no room for argument, so Sally just nodded and ran back up the stairs to grab the baby bag.

You stood in the living room with Perseus, making sure that any power he may possess was suppressed to that of a strong demigod. He slept so peacefully, so softly, and you couldn’t help but smile down at him. You pressed a finger to his forehead, closing your eyes and focusing only on what you could feel of him. There were flashes in your mind, of battles to come and parts he would need to play, of a great love, of families and friendships, and you began to cry, knowing you would not see any of it. And then it was over, gone in a moment as he became like any demigod child of the big three would be.

Sally came back from the car, hair tousled and chest heaving, and stood by the door, watching you. You looked over to her, at the way she stood so still, and you knew your time was up. You looked back down at Perseus, at this beautiful little boy who had done so much just by existing, and you leant down to press a soft kiss to his downy little head. A small smile, the most a baby could conjure perked onto his lips in his sleep, and a teardrop fell from your eye and splashed onto his cheek.

Slowly, you walked over to Sally. You stood in front of her, not saying a word. The world seemed to go quiet for a minute, as if even the powers of Zeus died at the moment a mother gave up her child.

“Don’t… don’t tell him about me.” You sniffled, blinking rapidly to stop the tears that refused to cease. “Tell him about his father, tell him about all the Greek heroes that came before him, about Olympus and the pantheon of aunts and uncles. Don’t tell him about me,” you whispered, stroking his cheek. “I don’t… I don’t want him to miss any part of me.” You smiled, nodding to yourself, but Sally frowned.

“He will miss you regardless,” she replied, “he will ask about you, and miss you, and want to know everything I can tell him.”

“Yes, I know, I’m sure he will be a very curious boy,” you chuckled breathily, leaning down to kiss his head once more. “But it will be easier if he feels he doesn't know me.”

“Easier for who?” She whispered, watching you with concern turning her eyes down and contorting her lips. But you just closed your eyes, gulped, and offered the baby to Sally Jackson, praying she would take him from your arms quickly.

You felt her fingers slip under your arms, felt her grip him, lift him so your arms were light as air and… empty. Your entire body felt empty. Your chest was hollow, your stomach was empty, your limbs were simple outlines. You could still feel Sally and Perseus’ presence, like the warmth of a heater just a little too far away, a brush in the air in front of you. You knew Sally was about to say something, to try and comfort you, but you began shaking your head and pointing to the door.

“Please go. Please. There is no more time. Take him and go.” You almost wanted to scream, to yell at her and tell her to get the hell away from you before you decided to throw everything to the wind and keep Perseus with you. “Please,” you whimpered. And then the door was opening, the wind howling around you, a whisper from Sally lost to it. And then it was shut again, and you were still, and the room was quiet, and there was nothing but the wind outside, the creaking of the house, and the thunder above.

You stayed in that house for a few more hours. You lay on the floor, allowing your body to heal and thinking back on the precious moments you had with Perseus. You walked through each room like a ghost, thinking of the first time you felt the little flutter of a heartbeat in your stomach, the first kick he ever pressed against your stomach, the last…

You weren’t sure how long you stayed, but by the time you had gathered your sword and your pearls, had changed into one of the dresses you had stopped wearing after the banishment from Olympus, the thunder had become distant. You gave one last look to the cabin, a fleeting glance back, then made your way back to Asgard and the Aesir you had not seen in years, back to the rest of your life…

Taglist: @thicficbich1, @pasta-warlord, @turtleshavesoulmates, @wolfgirl294, @stanswifties

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