#and whatever THE FUCK is going on with the sword handle

[ineffectualdemon]

The thing is you can't trust what he says as much as what he does. He is angry but I feel he's more angry that Binghe lied to him in the dream because he had already decided in that dream to accept Binghe's feelings. He's also angry that Binghe followed his demand to leave him alone.

He's still grappling with the decision to accept Binghe's feelings (which he is still holding himself to) and hurt that it came from a moment of deception

In that fight he is angry but he doesn't draw his sword or even remember to fight with Qi until he halfway through. And at one point he's remembering how he used to fight like this in his past life and kinda having fun. He is angry at Binghe and wants to burn off some of that anger but he's not just resigned to letting Binghe do whatever just because he wants to save CQM

He has feelings for Binghe and hes aware he cares about Binghe even though he hasn't sorted how yet and just after his dirt nap he heard people thought Binghe had raped him and was enraged because "Binghe would never do that" he thinks Binghe can be violent and cruel but he doesn't think him capable of rape. Also I don't think Shen Qingqiu thinks Bingge raped anyone because he thinks shit like "of course everyone would willingly sleep with him. Hes the protagonist"

I don't think he seriously thinks Binghe is going to go through with raping him. But he also knows that doesn't mean Binghe won't take liberties where he can

It's not a healthy way of communicating or handling their anger and hurt for either of them but I also don't think it's a scene of sexual assault or one where either party is genuinely expecting sexual assault

I will point out again Shen Qingqiu asked Binghe to leave him alone and Binghe did much to Shen Qingqiu's anger.

And then before showing up Luo Binghe sent in Shang Qinghua to give Shen Qingqiu his sword so he was armed.

It's a fucked up little scene but because of the emotional bullshit going on but it's not sexual assault. Still fucking weird and messed up though

If we want to question Binghe and consent the place to do it imo is more their reunion on the rooftops during the Sower thing where he force feeds Shen Qingqiu his blood

People who haven't read SVSSS: it has necrophilia and pedophilia!

The fans: *tired* no. That is not correct. I see why you would get that impression but you are wrong. That didn't happen

People on the SVSSS canon who don't know LBH or SQQ well: Luo Binghe disgraced his master's corpse and his master preyed on his student!

Shang Qinghua: *tired* no. That is not correct. I see why you would get that impression but you are wrong. That didn't happen.

[rotisseries]

trying to find a new phone case everyone say boooooo ai art

[silverselfshippingchaos]

I just know that Ash pulling one of these would drive S.eifer nuts in the best way possible

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ HEARTBEAT

tw. pseudocest, noncon, possessiveness, grooming?, age gap, blood, murder, a lot of trauma bonding

wordcount. 6k

a/n. thank yoUUUU rhi for betaing you are my favorite as alwaysssss I love you soooo much ♡♡

okkotsu yuuta x fem!reader

Blood is splattered on the ground of the dirty alley, and there’s another heavy thump when his kick once again lands on the kid’s skull and he moans in pain. He calls him a kid in his head because he’s got that shit-faced little attitude, and now an ugly gap where his front teeth used to sit, but he should be old enough to know better. As a couple passes by the narrow street, he shields things from view a little, before using the long edge of his sheathed sword to push the dumb, bloody face to the side. Because his eyes are starting to look like two overripe tomatoes from the impact, he couches down before the sandy brunet.

“You know what this is about?” Yuuta’s voice is hoarse. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but it’s been a busy week cleaning up your messes. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind. If anything, it makes him feel sort of useful. You’re good and kind and don’t get into trouble on purpose — which is why he’s here late at night making sure things get handled. Niisan’s got it, after all. He doesn’t bother to clear his voice. “Hey.”

“Take my cash,” the young man below him now whistles through the missing teeth, teary eyes darting around as he pats his hand all over himself to look for a wallet.

Yuuta scoffs. “I don’t want your money. If I did, you think I’d waste my time beating your face in like you had it coming?” The anxious, almost nervous lilt to his own voice doesn’t escape him. If you could see him now, you’d probably say that he was enjoying this too much - and while he is, the idea of this getting back to you doesn’t escape his mind. It won’t though, logically speaking. The kid probably wouldn’t be able to see straight for a couple hours, and you will never find out. “I want to know why you’re hanging around Rika’s kid sister.”

“Kid? W- I don’t know any Rika!” He yelps when he tries to lift his head and gets the handle of the weapon hit hard onto the bridge of his nose again, adding more blood to the mess that’s running all over the bottom of his face. Yuuta really can’t see it, lifting his top lip in slight disgust. Handsome, where? Just as much as this boy isn’t really a kid anymore, neither are you. But you’re younger, and deserving of protection — is it really so bad he wants to imagine you as his baby sister for a bit longer before you start trying to escape from under his wings?

Not that you’re going to go anywhere.

“I don’t know a Rika,” the blond whines again now, hiding his face into his hands to drool and hiccup against the cold floor.

“Orimoto Rika, has a kid sister.” Yuuta bites back, patience running really thin.

“O-I- I kn- oh, we’re in the same uni prep class!” He gets up to close his eyes and focus all his attention on not just kicking against his skull until the answers fall out. He knows that, how else would he even know to ask? The head damage takes it a few seconds to make the guy continue, sniffling. “We’re friends- or- my friend knew her. I liked her so we hung out a few times.” Yuuta’s hand is cold around the worn handle.

He takes a slow breath, watches the cloud of air as he lets it out. The promise ring glints in the light of the street, and it’s all familiarity and instinct that makes him brush his thumb over it. “Were you serious with her? Or did you tell her whatever so you could fuck her? Hm? Did you fuck my little sister?” The brunet snivels and whines under him when his foot lands back right before his face, demanding attention.

“I won’t talk to her anymore, I swear! I swear I w-won’t even - it’ll be like I never existed. Please.” The pitiful whining he’s doing, groveling like a dog below him - sort of reminds him of a younger him. Someone who didn’t have a purpose yet, and was scared of everything for it. The heavy weight of the ring clings to his hand when he lifts it to unsheath the katana, seeming to wrap a comforting palm around his own. If he could, he'd tangle fingers with her.

“P-please, let me go home! I didn’t do- I wouldn’t touch your s-sister, I didn’t know.”

“I hate guys who aren’t serious with her.” He clicks his tongue, and has to spit out the nasty taste that this entire situation leaves on his tongue. The weight of the sword is barely an inconvenience when both hands wrap around the handle properly. He’s doing this for Rika and him. Always. “She deserves so much better.” A mean flash of possession crosses his thoughts - how no one except him will ever be good enough. But he pushes it back, because that has nothing to do with why he’s doing this. Nothing.

+

“Yuuta~” Her voice haunts when he closes his eyes.

He’s in the sandpit of the Children’s hospital, rocking back and forth softly on the edge of it as he waits. The sun makes the sand nice and toasty, it warms his feet when he plants them down. “Yuuta!” It’s instinctive, when he looks up at the familiar voice. Rika’s hair travels in a perfect arc behind her when she runs to make it catch the light like a halo. Pretty blue dress making the shine of her hair even brighter, cheeks rosy, and her eyes glittering diamonds when they find his and she crashes down next to him. Her scraped knee is proof that it’s too hard, but he can’t help but smile when her cheek touches his arm on the landing.

Something hits the floor with a loud thump.

Yuuta turns over his shoulder to watch. There’s a smaller child that’s chin down on the earth behind them two, thick crocodile tears threatening to spill when Rika gasps. “Rika neechan~ Wait.” You pout, straightening up quicker than you should to reach your hands out to her. The girl hurries over to dust your cheeks off and drag you along behind her. It’s such a nice day out, Yuuta’s sweater is just thick enough to make his entire body warm. He stares at your face a little too long, before glancing between you two.

You’re still rounder than she is, but it’s undeniably eerie. “Your sister?” He asks softly, and Rika grins wide. She gently maneuvers you by the hand to sit next to her, then pulls you into a hug.

Her lips are pretty pink when she licks them. “This is Yuuta. Say ‘hi Yuuta’.” You parrot your sister obediently, as she waves your hand around at him. “Me and Yuuta are going to get married. So you should be very nice to him, okay?” Her sweet cheeks are the exact same as yours, long lashes and big, knowing eyes that always have him staring. You just look absentmindedly at the grass when Rika holds you into her side, but nod.

He smiles softly when your big eyes find his again. And Rika giggles. “And she’s gonna be your sister one day, so you gotta protect her well. We’re gonna be one happy family, promise?” She extends her arm to hold out a pinky finger at him. “That’s what I want.”

+

His fingers are pressing indents into your arm. It’s unusual. Yuuta’s always gentle, he’s soft and cares, but today his hand is screwed almost protectively tight around your upper arm, and you can’t say that you hate the feeling. Maybe childishly, you want him to squeeze even harder - so you’ll have no reason to get out.

You don’t come here a lot. Not since the accident tore open the painful scarred memory of it, but even before then, it wasn’t exactly your favorite place. It’s at Yuuta’s gentle prompting that you even managed to dress, and now walk however slowly between the low stone walls. The rain taps impatiently on the umbrella above, as the older boy casts you a careful glance. Then slowly bends to sit on his ankles, and grabs your hand ever so softly, meeting your eyes. His hands, though big enough to dwarf yours now, are almost velvety when they clasp around yours. It feels like he’s exponentially grown, while you’ve stayed pretty much the same.

Partly the illness. Mostly the age.

“Think you can go on?” he softly asks, kind eyes sympathetically regarding you. Like he’s making a judgment call about whether to turn back after all - debating the long walk back to the hospital. “I’ll be right here with you.”

“You’ve already gone before, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds a bit accusatory, a bit pouty too. Can’t be helped. Yuuta could be a living saint and you’d still find it hard. He clearly doesn’t take it to heart, because he smiles. His one hand then moves up to ruffle your hair.

“It’s still hard for me too, though,” his lips quirk up in an almost smile, but you can tell he doesn’t mean it. It’s sort of comforting to know that even someone like him feels it. Of course he would. Your neesan was family, but Yuuta probably knew her better than you ever could. He was beside her when she got out the two times, and was waiting when she had to get re-admitted. He was there when she got hit— there’s a comforting brush of your cheek when he stands back up and the umbrella gets so much higher. Yuuta blinks. “Come. I think you can do it.”

Your chubby cheeks flood with warmth, as you take his fingers into your hands with a nod. “Okay.”

It’s like this that you wind up at the headstone, stepping through dredged earth that’s been walked on too much. It seems to cling to the bottoms of your shoes with intent - you squeeze Yuuta nii’s hand tighter at the sight of the family grave. It now holds three of your kin in a warm embrace under the several bouquets of wilting flowers, and however morbidly, you think that maybe you’ll be joining soon. You’re young, but it’s not lost on you when the nurses send each other pitying looks.

“Is this where neesan’s buried?” Your voice sounds pinched and small, and sort of pathetic. You imagine Yuuta nii cried when he came to the funeral, but he wouldn’t have whined. You’re whining. You don’t want Yuuta to get fed up with you. Not when he’s the last semblance of ‘family’ you have left. After a while of staring blankly at the stone, he nods, and turns over his shoulder to smile at you again, pulling you a little closer to him. Your arms loop around his waist, staring down at the pretty whites that shake under the rain. “Is this where I’ll be buried when I die?”

He freezes. You feel bad about the double take he does when his spine goes more straight, rigid limbs dropping by his side as a deep, uncomfortable breath makes its way out. Your hands wring together instead.

However long it takes for him to unlock his limbs is however long you breathe through your tears as they well up stubbornly along your lash line, before your head is pulled to his ribs into an embrace. He swallows back emotion himself. “That’s not- I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise. I promise.”

“I’m sick-”

“No.” His eyes glint with something silvery when he takes your face between both hands and lets your childishness wash over him, clenching his jaw. “What happened to Rika was an accident- I- I couldn’t do anything then. But nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m here. I need- you to believe me.”

You don’t flinch when he uses your cheek to turn your face his way, but the urge still sits. His eyes study your face too intently, like he’s looking for something he can’t quite find. “I promised that I’d be a niichan that protects you.”

Rain splatters into a million glistening flecks as it meets the headstone.

“Okay,” you say.

It isn’t lost on you that his jaw is set too tight as he drags you back by the hand towards his bike, fist clenched around the umbrella. He breathes a tiny, ‘Later, Rika’ before turning on his heel. You don’t manage the same. Your voice gets stuck in your throat, even when he helps you up onto the bike rack in the back, pulling your face into his chest too tight- squeezes you to mold against him. He smells nice for a teen boy. The kiss he leaves on your crown is gentle, and leaves a soft warmth on your skin — You doubt it is really meant for you.

+

The door pushes open as you’re putting clips into your bangs, tongue trapped between your teeth. You cast Yuuta a glance through the mirror when he lingers at the door, and try to smile. “I’m almost ready.” You’re no longer too keen on fighting, the longer the silent treatment drags on. After a while of watching you with his arms crossed over his chest — he walks over to your bed to plop himself down and lets himself fall backward.

“I’m sorry,” the noiret sighs at nothing in particular, as you put on a necklace and after debating for a second, some perfume. The noise makes Yuuta look, studying you when you turn. It’s easy to forget sometimes that Yuuta didn’t have to stay with you, and he sure as hell didn’t have to give up a lot of his youth to take care of you like he does. Like your other family refuses to do when all the cards are on the table. He catches your stare. “You know I love you. I… worry when you’re not right here where I can see you. We stick together.”

“I know.” Your smile only barely makes your lips move, but you do mean it. You just wish realizations like this didn’t always have to come at the cost of fighting. “For what it’s worth, I’ll probably always forgive you.” You try to laugh, and brush your hair out of your eyes a final time before grabbing your bag. “I’m only going to be out for a few hours, max.”

Yuuta frowns when he sits up. His dark hair is brushed out of his face, damp and soft from the shower. “You’re still going?”

You blank. “Yeah, Himari and Shota are waiting for me. We’re going to see a movie.” He only has to let his eyes travel over your body and clothing once, for you to read what he’s thinking. You yank the edge of your skirt a bit lower, and pull your shoulders up. “What, what?! I can’t go out looking like this? It’s basically the same length as my uniform, what’s wrong with that?!”

“I didn’t say anything,” he breathes back, empty eyes regarding you with a static sort of- indifference, you guess.

“You don’t have to, niichan! God!” You turn to walk out the room, but Yuuta grabs your wrist when you pass by the bed. Sat down like he is, eyes tracing you like a lion- Yuuta no longer looks like the boy that used to draw stars on the ceiling of your hospital room for your amusement. Your cheeks heat when he basically glares straight at you for your attitude, and mulls the answer around in his mouth. Your anger subsides as you take a breath. This is the guy who makes you fresh apple juice in the morning, and calls you up between shifts. Because he cares. He just cares.

“Can I please go, Yuuta nii?”

After a few seconds, he clicks his tongue, staring at the edge of your skirt before tugging at it too, barely hiding a frown you can see dig between his brows. “You know I don’t like that Shota kid?”

Your lips jut out. “Yeah…” It’s getting awfully close to time to leave. You take a step back just to get his hands away from you. It’s distracting, and this is your brother you’re dealing with. “But he’s really nice. He started high school already but he used to be in my class the last three years, so… so you don’t have to worry. He knows I can’t do everything because I’m sick and he says—”

“Yeah, I’m sure he says everything you want to hear… You’re smarter than this. You don’t actually believe that.”

“He’s my friend.” A friend that makes your heart beat a bit faster when he smiles at you, but what’s it to him? “He doesn’t lie.”

Yuuta grimaces when you stare him down. “Don’t tell me about teenage boys, I used to be one.” He bristles before sitting up straighter, and though he’s technically below you, you still feel his energy tower as those big, dark eyes stay on your face. “Are you really ‘going to see a movie’? Or are you just going to sit in a boy’s room all night while I’m worried sick-”

You’re about ready to walk out, but his fingers are still looped around your wrist. “We are going to the movies! Himari and I! Just because a boy is there- ugh! Niichan, don’t make it weird!” The heat burns higher on your cheeks when you ball your fists, ignoring the pressure behind your eyes. This is so embarrassing. “I want to go.”

It’s quiet for much too long, making goosebumps appear all over your exposed skin. Then he breathes. “Come here.” His voice has more of an edge than it used to. You used to like the way your name fell from his lips. You’re not so sure you do anymore. Instead of storming out and forgetting all about him, you stare back at the sharpness in his eyes. When he pats his lap with familiarity, you jerk a brow. But you sit. His breath brushes along your neck too softly where he’s seated. It tickles on the way down.

It almost feels like… like he could wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until you stopped struggling.

Yuuta nii wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

Fingers come to your necklace, undoing it, and it drops into your lap on the pretty, blue skirt. It’s suddenly much too cold in the room, and you resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. It’s fine. You’re fine. Yuuta is family.

Still the untouched skin of your neck feels too exposed.

If he notices your rigid posture, he doesn’t bother fixing it. Just reaches, then pushes your head forward. The childishly familiar pink, bedazzled heart he holds up instead glints, swaying from where you left it on your side table for the night. “You get back at 9,” his lower voice sounds, “or else I’m driving out to wherever you are and dragging you back to my car.” When you don’t say anything in response, he brushes away your hair from your shoulders.

“Yuuta nii,” you start, clamming up when he drapes the dainty thing around your throat and does the closure for you. “I wasn’t going to wear that one tonight.” You don’t always want to wear whatever Rika left behind until infinity.

“I think you will,” he breathes back, and kisses your exposed shoulder. It’s less sweet, more something to punctuate his statement. If he wasn’t so familiar and soft, you’d immediately fight against the way his strong arms wind around your waist to anchor you in his lap. “Just wear it.” His hands stay against your skin, long after he’s finished. Too long, and after seconds of sitting in the tense silence, you jerk up off his lap to grab your discarded bag from the floor. The other necklace drops to the carpet somewhere, but you don’t care.

“Fine,” you bring out tightly, before giving him a last look. Your bottom lip trembles a slight bit, so you suck it into your mouth to make it stop. And tears sting at the corners despite yourself. “Later, then.”

“Tell Himari that niichan says hello. It’s been so long since she’s been here.” He gets up from your bed too, and you resist the urge to rush out the room before him when he steps around you. You can’t fight the feeling that somehow… you were just caught in your lie. Your phone beeps in your bag, as Yuuta nii disappears around the corner. Shota, probably.

+

Blood. The door creaks, swings against the wind.

Dead.

You hope he’s dead. Blood pools at the center of the showers, sinks down the drain too slowly. It sticks to the pretty porcelain tiles of the old school locker room before the water gurgles it down.

They’re dead.

You don’t have to question it before it’s confirmed. Before the heavy, silver cleaver is lodged into the side of the already ruined skull. All of them. All of the boys of the soccer team seem to be present, though you don’t want to try and count. Counting makes it real. This shouldn’t be. The heavy thump makes way for a gross squelch when he yanks the metal out, and keeps the body down with his foot.

The spatters on his face are still wet. You can’t help the way your voice comes out when you breathe in deep and try to keep the tears from spilling over. The cleaver’s red and sticky and so is his hand, up to his forearm, his forehead from wiping his hair away. All of it, ruined.

“Y-yuuta nii?”

The metal door of the locker slams closed with the wind and hits you in the back, sending you skittering forward a few steps before you force the air out of your lungs with a stuttered pant.

With a soft smile, he turns over his shoulder. “Shhh.” The blood’s crusted under his nails when he presses a finger to his lips, then waves you closer. “Help niichan out?” His eyes glint over, before his smile goes a little wider, and he whips the blood off the weapon onto the ground. “S’ your fault I had to do this after all. We can clean up together. Hm?”

Your breathing is so shallow that you can feel your heartbeat in between your ears. You aren’t sure why you nod. The guilt tastes bitter on the way down.

+

Rika was dead on impact. She didn’t have a chance, even after she fought so vehemently against what took your mom. You know that. Even if she didn’t get struck by misfortune then, she might’ve not lived past her teens.

Yuuta doesn’t seem to know. He also doesn't seem to consider the same for you either— letting you toy with the edge of his shirt where you’re curled into him in your too-small bed. The hospital wants you back for another check-up.

It’s true that you’ve already outlived your sister, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever. Yuuta nii doesn’t want to hear it. As he brushes your hair with his fingers, you scratch the arm where the IV’s always get attached with an absent minded pout. Until Yuuta notices, pouting down at you. “Are you still feeling dizzy? I can make you some green tea if you’ll let go of me for a few minutes. Lots of honey like you like.” You quickly shake your head.

To him this is final, the worst you’ll ever get, and in reality that’s probably not the case. You don’t tell him though. His deep eyes stay on you a little too long. “What’s wrong?”

Sometimes you wake up and can’t open your eyes past a blurry sliver, your head tight enough to make your skull feel like it’s caving in. Times where you have to clasp your stomach painfully tight to hold yourself together — stumbling in tears into Yuuta’s room. Like you’ll disintegrate in his arms unless you lock him around yourself. This isn’t as bad, but you still feel bad.

Feverish and cold all at once, achy where your stomach goes up and down. You can’t mention the possibility of having to go back into urgent care without aniiki spiraling, so you keep your mouth shut. “I don’t like green tea,” you guiltily admit instead, and stare up at him when he holds a few knuckles to your head, studying you.

His expression scrutinizes you a little tighter, before he pets over your crown. He presses a soft kiss onto your lips. It’s Rika that loved it, you want to say, but for some reason you can’t make the words come out. He sighs, slightly put out, but then nods. “If you’re feeling better later, maybe you can help Yuuta nii with the curry. Okay?”

“Mhm,” you smile up at him, and you can see how the muscles in his jaw unclench.

His soft hands cup your face intently, staring down at you too intently. It starts sweet, until the feeling of his breath dust over your face and you watch as he flicks his eyes all over you. “You look so much like her. I can tell now that you’re getting older though,” his thumb smoothes over your soft cheek. “We should see if there’s something in Rika’s stuff you can still wear.”

“Won’t be able to fit it anymore, niichan.” Your voice comes out apologetic, though you don’t know why.

“Hm. You might be right.” His look goes more distant before he pulls you closer. Legs tangled, arms loosely looped around you. “You’re still smaller than me though. Luckily.” He takes a deep breath, before nuzzling his nose into your crown to breathe long and deep. His warm hands trail over yours before squeezing. “I love you, you know that? Always will.”

You stare at the wall of mementos past Yuuta’s shoulder. Suffocatingly cram packed. Her pictures. Her music poster. Her pre-teen bottle of perfume you wear only on special occasions. Your hands stop toying with the edge of his shirt to brush instead along his forearm until you meet something that isn’t skin. Yuuta’s quiet, but his breathing is slightly pinched— you don’t mean to.

You glance between you two to the plastic your finger hooks onto. The bracelet she made in the hospital care ward for Yuuta that he still wears despite the fact that the color has long peeled off of the cheap beads. “You loved neesan, right?” Your lashes almost brush when you look back at him, watch him trap his tongue between his teeth for a moment as pink sits on his cheeks. His hand wraps around yours to tangle fingers.

“I… did.”

He swallows. “She made the hospital seem a little less lonely.” The mementos seem to stare at you from across the room as he speaks, and the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach refuses to fade. If anything, it gets more painful. Tighter. “We’re going to be together forever though. And I,” he squeezes your hand, voice fading to barely a whisper, “I love you. Love you so much.”

There's a cold slid over your fingers when he moves. You allow him to slip off the band, gently, and almost as if he wants to give it to you without you noticing, his fingers slide the cursed thing onto your hand instead. His smile is gentle, makes those dark eyes look a little less pressing. “When you’re cleared from going back to the hospital, we can find me a matching one. We still have to get married, right?”

The room feels cold.

“... Okay.”

+

“Let’s kiss?”

It’s too late to be early when the shared bed gets crowded over on your side. “St- I’m going to sleep, Yuuta nii. Stop.” You don’t open your eyes to the touch, definitely not to the gentle brush of his fingers over your lips when he gets too close. Always too close- it’s suffocating. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Don’t be like that.” He sounds happy. He always sounds like that when it has to do with you, and it doesn’t take long for your eyes to flutter open when the thumb instead pushes into your mouth. “If we get married, this will be normal. Don’t pull back.” He pushes onto your tongue to make you hold it in your mouth all heavy and tasting of him, then leans in to push his forehead to yours. Deep, possessive eyes pinning you in place.

“You don’t want to?” It almost sounds mocking. You know you brought this on yourself. You asked to go home early, you asked to invite friends. Maybe this is payback the way big brothers give it. There’s tears that spring up anyway when his other hand slips under your shirt and he squeezes your soft belly. As the spit he wipes on your lips gets kissed away by an impatient sigh. “I’ve wanted to for such a long time. You wouldn’t ask me to wait more.”

“Yuuta nii. We’re siblings, aren’t we?” The ring glitters. Your hand is clenched into the front of his shirt as warm hands grab down your body— hands you love. Hands you trusted.

“Of course we are. That’s why I’m doing this, silly girl.” Hands that push your underwear down your round hips despite you fighting to keep them up. He giggles when you burn with embarrassment, before pressing kisses to your temple. “I love you. I love you, I love you. Who better to kiss you than big brother?” You shake your head, try to push- he doesn’t budge. Just keeps your body in place under his with his weight.

“G-get off of me, Yuuta! Stop being so weird!” You cry, pushing until he grabs your wrist and forces it down beside your head. He’s still smiling though, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like you’re still a child acting out. It’s that which makes you squirm more, and the glare digs into your forehead when he gets on top of you. “Stop~ I don’t want to kiss.”

Instead he laces his fingers with your ring hand, as the other patiently flutters down to rub over your pussy. You don’t want to. You don’t. Yuuta just smiles when he tilts his head to regard you, and squeezes your fingers a little tighter. “Rika-chan asked me to take care of you. Don’t get so mad.”

+

It’s getting cooler and cooler and cooler the longer he stands. Pressed in the corner of the sterile, greenish blue atmosphere with white sheets draped over your body. He takes a long, deep breath until the nurse finishes up with the checks, taking freshly drawn blood away in a vial. “You’re the guardian?”

The red stands out against your complexion as your restless sleep drifts deeper— he shifts in his seat to lace his hands together. “Her big brother, yes.”

She doesn’t bother to pretend to care when tapping her clipboard, gives a distracted smile. “The doctor will be here within the next hour, okay? Please wait here until then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yuuta’s quick not to let the smile quirk up onto his mouth when she’s already walking out before he finishes. As soon as the door falls into lock he gets up from the uncomfortable chair to kneel by your bedside and grasp your hand.

Soft. Small.

He hates to admit that he could spend hours here by your side; but the truth is the truth. He could, and he has. And he will, until it is no longer necessary.

Yuuta kisses your hand with a gentle smile, feeling your heartbeat thump under his lips. You mumble, he swears he can hear his name. “I’m here. Niichan’s here.” He smiles a little more when the soft fingers wrap back around his hand and he watches your expression relax even in your sleep. He can’t help it, the soft thumping against his cheek makes his entire body warm.

You’re so alive, and so close- every cell in his body yearns to be beside you. He kisses the area between your thumb and pointer in an attempt to soothe the feeling of biting down entirely. Instead he clasps your hand with two of his before standing up. “You would have loved Rika.” His mouth tingles. “She would’ve hated you- but you would have loved her. I think she would have been a bit jealous though.”

He dips to press a soft kiss onto your lips, humming softly when your warm breath dusts over his cheeks. “You’re so cute.” A few years ago, you would’ve had visitors waiting for you. “I know you were looking forward to graduation, but I’m still here for you.” He places his hands on both sides of your face to hover over you instead of pulling back, can’t keep himself from it.

“You don’t want to leave your niichan, right?” It’s not your fault that everyone else wants you to move on. He’ll take you just as you are. He has to force himself to pull back before he kisses you again, so you don’t wake just yet. You will. And you’ll cry into his chest about missing your precious graduation, and about being stuck here again, just when you were getting better. He never much wanted you in uni anyway.

From his space sat on the edge of your bed, he can easily see how the blanket squirms. How the motion curls and wiggles until he easily pulls the sheet down your chest, then your stomach.

Two beady eyes stare up at him as he brings his face a little closer. The fly head is still clinging to your stomach, hasn’t moved from where he left it. By now it’s become an accessory every few months. It’s not strong enough to kill you— just barely enough to keep you believing you’re still sick, and that’s all he really needs. You need his care, need him. He resists the urge to pick the thing up at least until he can take you back home.

Instead he nudges it up a little higher, so he can place his palm onto your belly to stroke gentle circles in its place, feeling the heat through the gown. He can feel your heart bounce all the way down your body, it’s so cute. When the little fodder curse crawls onto your chest, lids shooting open as you gasp. “Yuuta nii-” Your eyes are lined red, and as soon as they find him you start bawling.

More than happy to let him hike you up from the bed and into his arms, where you bury your face into his neck. Your hiccups are so cute. It’s easy to kiss them quiet when you don’t have enough breath to ask him to stop. He’s sure this time he could slip his tongue into your mouth and you wouldn’t say a thing.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hatefucking with Sanemi? Hashira reader and Sanemi have a history of tension between each other and reader challenges that he wouldn't be able to handle the strap. He's confident, but by the end of the night you have him flat on top of you with his tongue lolling out while he sloppily rolls his hips into your length

Dammn- alr let’s go I did learn to appreciate him, somehow (also the sub kny fandom is still alive?)

Dom!hashira!reader x sub!sanemi - reader is gn

Warning: pegging (I use dick to refer to it), taking virginity, teasing, a tiny bit dacryphilia, cursing, mind break, I got lazy towards the end

His bad attitude was as infamous as his strength, his very own trademark, a huge part of his image. He was disrespectful towards everyone except the master, and frankly, he seemed to hate you to most. That was half justified, since you’d always bicker with him, taunting him by calling him weaker. Whenever the two of you met, a fight would break out while others shake their head. Today was no exception.

“Fuck, why do you have to keep bothering me?” Sanemi yelled, his hand on his sword, ready to pull it out at any moment. “Bothering you? I just happened to head to the same direction!” You sneered back, pulling a grimace. It was time for another hashira meeting, and just as fate wanted, you bumped into him on your way. “If you want to fight just say so.” The wind hashira glared at you, a vein forming on his forehead due to his anger.

You rolled your eyes, you weren’t in a mood for a barking dog like him, deciding to just ignore him and walk away. To your dismay, he shouted again and grabbed your wrist, “hey! Don’t you fucking ignore me!” You got pulled back by him. Agitated, you decided to not let this slide and yanked your wrist back, causing him to fall into your arms. “Let’s not fight like some brute animals today.” After catching him in an embrace, you clenched his shoulder with one hand.

“Suddenly acting so proper, aren’t you?” He snarled, letting go of you and pulling his hand back. “I just don’t want to cause troubles. How about, if you can take me, I’ll humble myself and apologise to you?” You suggested, then stopped squeezing him and raised both hands up into a surrender position. Sanemi stared at you suspiciously, but this idea of yours wasn’t unattractive in the slightest.

He wasn’t sure what you meant, even so he agreed without a second thought. “Don’t you dare go back on your words.” A cheeky smirk appeared on your lips as you said, “same goes for you.”

Maybe he should have asked what you had in mind despite his temporarily clouded judgement, because this was the absolute opposite of whatever he thought of. And that was very apparent on his face. You did tell him he can still back out and you wouldn’t tease him about it, since you didn’t really expect him to actually heed the promise. But, he was as hot-tempered as he was stubborn and insisted on continuing, mocking you by saying, “are you getting nervous or what?”

Fine, if he really wants to, who were you to stop him. That’s how the two of you got into this mess, this hot and filthy mess where both of you were striped bare on top of the bed, with him straddling your lap. You laid down comfortably while sanemi hovered above you. The deal was for you to not use your hands while he rode you, to see who would give up first. A faint blush covered your cheeks as you stared at him, at his firm muscles and pretty scars. Instead of being intimidated or even repulsed, you’ve always found them quite endearing.

Then your eyes darted back to his face, watching him with the utmost concentration. You were going to savour this moment to the fullest. His eyes were clenched shut, lips pressed into a thin line as he furrowed his brows. In comparison to your face, his was as red as it can be and sweat rolled down his cheeks. With shaky hands, he grabbed the shaft and tried to line it up with his hole, the other hand was clenching your shoulder for support. Slowly, he lowered himself onto your dick, gritting his teeth at each inch.

“You are doing great, sanemi.” You decided to give him an award praise, since you were pretty sure this was his first time. A kind of guilty washed over you for taking that from him over some measly bet. Instead of being thankful he snapped at you, mumbling, “shut up, I don’t need your compliments.” Before sticking the tip inside. And dear lord, the moan that followed was the lewdest thing you’ve heard up until now. “Ah-aAnnNG♡…?!” Loud, high-pitched and sharp, the little tremble in voice as he trailed off was just as lovely. He underestimated how painful it would be, feeling an indescribable pain course through his body along with something akin to lust.

Now he was shaking even more, slumping forward as he gripped your shoulders with both hands, using enough strength to leave bruises. He was thinking about whether or not he should continue, when his body so desperately wanted to take it out. “Uh-urghhh… d-damn it..” sanemi groaned, taking a few minutes to get used to the stretch. In the end he decided to suck it up and keep going, clutching you so roughly that his knuckles turned white.

You hissed slightly at the pain, closing one eye while bearing it. After calming down a little, you joked, “Don’t break my collarbone.” Your own hands were bawled into firm fists and kept next to your body, itching to touch and to feel him. He didn’t react to your little joke, in contrary, he was focused on taking you whole, trying to protect his pride from taking hits. With a swift move, he went down on you. “GuuUUhh..! Ah- y-y/n..” subconsciously, he called out for you, taking his sweet time bottoming out. Your ears perked a little when he used your proper name, surprised at the sudden change in character.

Without much to say, you stayed silent as you watched him pushing the entire length in, observing him overcoming his struggles. His bangs stuck to his forehead due to the amount of sweat coating him, he was still clenching his eyes shut as of now. You traced the scars on his body with your eyes. There were many large ones, turning his entire body into a patchwork. Some were even on his thighs. How you wanted to draw the outlines of them with your fingers and note gaze, how you wanted to tug his hair behind his face, so many things you wanted but couldn’t.

You gulped loudly, swallowing the lump inside your throat as he took half of your cock in. At this point he didn’t seem like the same he was moments ago. All of his movements became sloppy, clumsy even. Everything about him was shaking and you could tell he was at his limit just by his expression. The way he bit his bottom lip didn’t reveal if it was because of the pain or other reasons, but it was very likely. And the desire to just grab him by the waist and have your way with him was strong, but you decided to dispose of that thought.

After a few more minutes, he eventually sat down completely, one hand rubbing his tummy as he felt you deep inside him. “F-fuck…” He whispered through gritted teeth, instinctively trying to close his legs. You could feel his walls clenching down on you, holding you in a tight embrace. His face had a hint of struggle to it and he stayed completely still, probably adjusting to the stretching sensation. With your hands still rendered useless, you waited, observing him and noticing how he got hard.

His precum dripped down onto your stomach, creating a small puddle of fluids. It somehow put your mind at ease, to think that he was enjoying this and not just cursing under his breath. Then you teased him, “oh sanemi~ I didn’t know you liked getting fucked? Do you use your hole often?” The way he tried to slap you but stopped mid track was kind of funny. Due to him moving so suddenly he also moves his hips, causing him to inhale sharply as the pain spread again. “UrgHhh..!” He immediately covered his mouth with his palm, shoulders raised to his ears as he looked away.

“This won’t do, you have to move sooner or later.” You sighed as another idea popped up, raising an eyebrow at him before chuckling, “or is it too much for you? Do tell, I won’t force you.” The playful tone you used ticked him off so badly that he moved up, trying to keep down the embarrassing noises as he said, “you are getting rather impatient, don’t tell me it’s a ploy?” Then he slammed himself down again, and moaned loudly, “ah-aaAAAhH… w-wait..?” The tip hit something inside him that send chills down his spine, making his blush darken by a few shades. “T-the heck was that…” sanemi mumbled, he was kind of curious now, because that feeling was strange.

After that weird sensation coursed through his body, it didnt hurt anymore, instead he only felt a hot, burning sensation spread from there to the rest of his body. Not long after, he began chasing that feeling, bouncing up and down as more perverted noises escaped his tightly sealed lips. “Mhhmm..! Ngh… ah, y-you.. don’t you dare tell a-anyone about it.” He glared at you, don’t wanting others to find out about him enjoying this. Yet it didn’t feel intimidating considering the state he was in, and how adorable his face was.

At this point he was riding you with such fever that the slapping sound of skin against skin filled the room to the brim, echoing off the walls, reaching your ears. The rather lewd squelching sounds that erupted whenever he took you deep inside was not any better. He bit his bottom lips again, opening his eyes as he stared down at himself. This messy appearance of his made him feel humiliated, since he was showing this vulnerable side to you. You could also say he felt ashamed.

His dick twitched happily, bouncing against his own belly at times, creating sticky strings that connect the two parts. You could hardly contain yourself, keeping the promise seemed harder than ever before. Why did you have to propose a deal like that? And his waist seemed so tiny and grab-able in that moment, this was pure torture. Because you couldn’t contribute to making a mess out of him, you resumed to using your words to have some fun, smiling as you asked, “are you enjoying this? Or do you feel like giving up?”

“H-haah… Never, not against you.” He scoffed, giving you a challenging smirk before throwing his head back. Hot and warm walls squeezing you the best he could, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Though he didn’t cry, he held himself back from doing that, only whimpering more and more with each passing second. “Aw, how cute you are, putting on a show like that.” You continued, meaning every word you said. “But it looks like you are doing it because of self fulfilment instead of the bet?”

He stopped abruptly, feeling his body shake at the sudden loss of pleasure. Wait, pleasure? So he was enjoying it. He did like whatever was going on, with him on top of you, riding you like some cheap whore. A wave of embarrassment washed over him before he craved in to his desires and yelled, “urGhhh!! Shut up! I-I do what I want uHhnng, you hear?!” That boy only raised his voice because he finally noticed, how he fell into your trap. Even if he were to win and you to lose, you wouldn’t have really lost. How sly of you.

“Oh, so you’ve noticed?” You laughed, and put your hands on his hips. “?! W-what are you doing! That’s- hGhhh, again the d-deal!” His voice turned a pitch higher as he felt your hands squeezing his sides, whining quietly. Having you touch him so intimately sure was something new. Without any hints of sadness, you explained your actions. He instantly understood what it meant for him, and he gulped loudly. Though he’d never admit it, anticipating and excitement filled him from the inside. He felt himself on the verge of cumming when he heard you whisper, “I surrender, you’ve won, alright? So, time to get to business♡.”

Needless to say, you two had a great time together.

By the end of the night, you’ve turned him into a complete stranger. Eyes rolled to the back of his head, little pleads for a break and fore more slipping past his previously foul mouth. Body twitching occasionally and limp from overworking himself, slumping down against your chest.But you weren’t quite done now, were you? All you had to do was change the position and command him to spread his legs. Of course your personal fuck toy would listen without hesitation, tongue hanging out as he eagerly waited for you to fuck him senseless. The once proud and snarky wind hashira has been reduced to a little slut. To your good boy.

[strwberri-milk]

Oooh could you give reactions of the LaDS guys when MC rescues them?? I can imagine their stunned faces followed by intense worry for MC

Zayne didn't think that disaster would strike the hospital but here he is using his Evol to try and help patients and their families escape. Anybody who had an offensive Evol was part of this shoddily thrown together front lines, desperately trying to buy time until the authorities arrived.

He thinks he's about to be closed in as the roof comes down, doing his best to try and lessen the damage when he sees you come to the rescue. Somehow you manage to push him out of the way, rolling the two of you to safety as you get up to continue your path. He immediately grabs you by the wrist, wordlessly asking if you're okay. You offer him a quick nod before running off to continue, both of you understanding that time is of the essence.

When he finds you again later he's giving you a full physical, wanting to make sure that you're okay despite the accident. He can only rest once you're safe, holding you close.

If you sustained a life threatening injury he's there the entire time. He's making sure that you're okay, monitoring your progress as much as the doctors will allow him to. They don't want him getting in the way, knowing that he's especially emotional because it's you despite never having seen him like this before. He knows he shouldn't be interfering but honestly, he can't help it. He's worried and he's going to blame himself for the rest of his life if you don't get better.

Xavier lost his mind when he lost sight of you, trying his best to fight while also looking for you everywhere. When he finally sees you after you took out a Wanderer he pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly as he asks you if you're alright. He does his best to appraise your current condition, doing whatever he can to mitigate any pain you feel and trying to convince you to rest before things get worse.

The attack doesn't seem to be letting up at all and you know that the two of you have to split up to continue no matter how much he hates it. He decides fuck the orders and follows you anyway, knowing that he won't be able to focus if you're not there with him.

He hears the Wanderer too late - turning around and drawing his sword half a second later than he should when he hears your guns going off. The Wanderer immediately turns to you, giving him an opening to strike back. It's faster than either of you thought it was, the scream he hears from you shutting him down.

He's glad you saved him but not at the cost of your life and he wastes the creature, knowing his body will suffer the consequences from how powerful his attack was but that doesn't matter if it means it saved you. He immediately takes you to get help, refusing to leave your side until you're actually 100%. He promised himself he'd protect you and he's going to be even more protective of you from now on.

Rafayel didn't think that his studio would be ambushed like this but he was more than capable of handling it - or so he thought. He was close to burning down his whole studio if he needed to in order to escape the assailants, surprised when they suddenly start collapsing without him doing anything.

When you emerge with your weapon drawn he's happy to see you but immediately worries about how you got through the other people they said they brought with them. You were able to take them down thankfully but he's not convinced you're alright, securing his studio with you to ensure that the two of you have nothing else to worry about.

If you sustain a life threatening injury he's immediately calling for help but also takes care of you right then and there. He doesn't want to lose any time to waiting for medical staff to arrive or your fellow hunters - he knows how to take care of you and his fire Evol is thankfully good at cauterising wounds despite how awful he feels about you trying to be brave as he burns your skin. The scars that linger upset him deeply because to him, they represent a time he failed you but in spite of them he doesn't let it drag him down. He knows it'd just make you more upset to know that's how he feels so he just focuses on making sure his skills stay sharp enough to protect you.

Sylus doesn't normally get attacked when he goes out on a job but this was a first. He was a little underprepared, thinking he'd have a quiet evening but the fight wasn't too rough, thankfully. He turns, preparing to leave without realising that there was another figure hidden in the shadows, ready to strike him down when he hears someone fall behind him. You stand over their unconscious body, a little worse for wear but nothing some TLC couldn't solve.

Sylus insists on taking you home, knowing that while you look fine there was always a slight chance that something was being overlooked and he did not want to be negligent in your care. He doesn't like the fact that you got attacked most likely because of your association with him, telling you that you need to be more careful to avoid things like that happening.

When you do get attacked because of your connection with him he has no reservations killing the person who had the audacity to hurt you. He takes you back home, patching you up and making sure you're okay in the comfort of his house. You have round the clock care and you think that Sylus isn't too shaken about your near death experience until you realise his sleep is even lighter one night. He can't sleep properly and probably won't for a while. He'll always be even more alert, constantly having either Mephisto or himself on your trail to ensure that nothing like that happens again.

[bemusedlybespectacled]

I don't understand the chevron law thing, could you explain it like I'm five? Should we be working towards fixing whatever the courts just fucked up?

So, okay, I am condensing like a semester of a class I took in 2017 into a very short explanation, but:

It would be really annoying for Congress to individually pass laws approving every new medicine or listing out every single poison you can't have in tap water, so instead there are agencies created by Congress, via a law, to handle a specific thing. The agencies are created by Congress but overseen by the executive branch (so, the president), which is why we say things like "Reagan's EPA" or "Biden's DOJ" - even though Congress creates them, the president determines how they do the thing Congress wants them to do, by passing regulations like "you can't dump cyanide in the local swimming pool" and "no, you can't dump strychnine, either."

However, sometimes people will oppose these regulations by saying that the agency is going beyond the task they were given by Congress. "The Clean Air Act only bans 'pollutants,' and nowhere in the law does it say that 'pollutants' includes arsenic! You're going beyond your mandate!" To which the experts at the EPA would be like, "We, the experts at the EPA, have decided arsenic is a pollutant." On the flip side, the EPA could be like, "We, the experts at the EPA, have decided that arsenic isn't a pollutant," and people would oppose that regulation by being like, "But the Clean Air Act bans 'pollutants,' and it's insane to say that arsenic isn't a pollutant!" So whose interpretation is correct, the government's or the challengers'?

Chevron deference basically put heavy weight onto how the agency (i.e. the government) interpreted the law, with the assumption that the agency was in the right and needing pretty strong evidence that they were interpreting it wrong (like, blatantly doing the opposite of a clear part of the law or something). If there was any ambiguity in how the law was written, you'd defer to the agency's interpretation, even if that interpretation was different depending on who was president at the time.

(Note: there are other ways of challenging regulations other than this one, like saying that they were promulgated in a way that is "arbitrary and capricious" – basically, not backed by any evidence/reasoning other than "we want it." Lots of Trump-era regulations got smacked with this one, though I think they'd be better at it if Trump gets a second term, since they've now had practice.)

Chevron deference wasn't all good – remember that the sword cuts both ways, including when dickholes are in power – but it was a very standard part of the law. Like, any opposition to a regulation would have some citation to be like "Chevron doesn't apply here" and every defense would be like "Chevron absolutely applies here" and most of the time, the agency would win. Like, it was a fundamental aspect of law since the 80s.

The Supreme Court decision basically tosses that out, and says, "In a situation where the law is ambiguous, the court decides what it means." That's not completely insane – interpreting law is a thing judges normally do – but in a situation where the interpretation may hinge on something very complicated outside of the judge's wheelhouse, you now cannot be like, "Your Honor, I promise you that the experts at NOAA know a lot about the weather and made this decision for a good reason."

The main reason it's a problem is that it allows judges to override agencies' judgements about what you should do about a thing and what things you should be working on in the first place. However, I don't think there's really a way of enshrining that into law, outside of maybe adding something to the Administrative Procedure Act, and that would require a Congress that isn't majority Republican.

I will say that kind of I expected this to happen, just because IIRC Gorsuch in particular hates Chevron deference. IMO it's a classic case of "rules for me but not for thee" – Scalia and other conservatives used to rely on Chevron because they wanted their presidents to hold a ton of unchecked power (except for the EPA), but now that we've had Obama and Biden, now conservatives don't like Chevron because it gives the presidents they don't like unchecked power.

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

Hades’ favourite thing to rant about is how much his family forgets about and sidelines him. Nico has literally never once given the lecture his full attention, because why the fresh fuck would he subject himself to that, but he discovers, lying facedown on the floor of Cabin Three, that he must have internalised enough of it to remember some key points.

He is loathe to admit it, but Father is right. How come the Poseidon cabin floors are so nice and comfortable? The floor of Cabin Thirteen sucks. Whenever he has Floor Time in his own cabin, he gets bruised and cold. Injustice.

“Could you suffer quieter? I’m trying to study.”

“Shut up, Percy.”

“I’m not the one groaning in misery.”

“Shut up, Percy.”

Percy sighs heavily. There’s a loud thud as he snaps his textbook shut, and the creak of mattress springs as he shifts.

“You’re so fuckin’ irritating, you know that?”

“Coming from you,” Nico says indignantly, pushing up to glare at him. Percy makes a face back. “I am here, having a crisis, being vulnerable in front of you —”

“Oh my gods.”

“— like you suggested, to rebuild our tenuous relationship —”

“I wish the prophecy had killed me. Either one, I’m not picky.”

“— and you are studying! Nose in a book! You hate reading! You are doing this just to spite me!”

“I am doing this to pass my classes,” Percy snips. “Someone should send you to public school. You need to experience that particular level of hell.”

“Experienced hell already, thanks. Don’t need a redo.”

“Tartarus references don’t shut me up, Zombie Boy. I’ve been there too.”

“Ugh.”

Percy rolls his eyes, turning back to his textbook. Nico contemplates rolling back on the floor to Ruminate and Think (after the second failure in a row he has a much to think about, like what the fuck is he supposed to do, should he even fucking bother, is he doomed to life without love, etc, etc) but finds himself, instead, sitting upright. Watching his — friend. Watching his heavy frown, listening to the bit-back curses and the crinkle of pages when he holds the book too tightly.

He’s moody, today. Sullen. Ate his breakfast in silence and stomped off to the sword fighting arena, raising hurricane downpour around the open theatre to deter anyone from joining him. Coincidentally, Annabeth has not been seen all day.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks quietly.

Percy shrugs, glancing over then glancing quickly away. “Fine.”

“I mean. You flooded half the camp. So.”

“Just drop it, Nico. If you’re going to stay in here, be quiet.”

Nico bites back the automatic, scathing retort. Be quiet, Nicolò! Lalalalala! Don’t tell me what to do! Ugh! I hate having a little brother! Yeah, well, I hate you too!

A quick, cut-off choking sound cuts through his thoughts. He looks up, startled, to find Percy’s face red, to find him swiping angrily at his cheeks.

“Woah,” he murmurs, climbing hastily upright. He ignores the loud chanting in his brain telling him to leave, the discomfort swirling in his stomach at seeing someone cry, seeing another man cry, instead hovering awkwardly. Percy shrugs off the hand he touches hesitantly to his shoulder, and Nico holds it there, suspended, in between and outstretched.

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

Nico hesitates. Of all people, he…nobody wants Nico around, when they’re —whatever Percy is. Upset. The only thing he can probably do is make it worse.

But what can he do? Leave him? Get Annabeth? Jason? None of it seems right. Instead he stands, frozen, hand still half-outstretched, eyes wide.

“You can —” He clears his throat. “Um. Did something happen?”

Percy shrugs. His eyes remain glued resolutely to his textbook, although the pages are wet and warped.

“Cause you can tell me, you know. I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything.”

Gods, he is so far out of his depth. Could Kampe come back and attack? That would be easier to deal with. Nico could handle that.

“I don’t —” the pages of the textbook crinkle under Percy’s grip — “it’s fucking stupid, is what it is.”

Hovering is not the right call. He knows that much. He scans the cabin, evaluating his options — sitting back on the floor feels like a bad plan. He doesn’t think any kind of touch would be welcomed, nor is he entirely comfortable in giving it. He doesn’t want to crowd. He doesn’t want to seem too distant.

Slowly, carefully gauging Percy’s reaction, he sits on the bed, across from him. He leaves the textbook between them, letting Percy keep pretending to read it, and tucks his legs up under his knees. He fiddles absentmindedly with his ring, chewing his lip every time Percy sniffles.

“Why’s it stupid?”

Percy shrugs again. Nico resists the urge to shake him. How does anyone deal with this shit? What the hell is he even supposed to do? He’s not Jason. He’s not Annabeth. Hell, he’s not Will, who seems to read emotions intuitively, who seems to know exactly what to do when someone is scared, when someone is upset. Even when someone is angry. He tries to imagine Will, in his position. Sitting across from a crying Percy Jackson, saviour of the world. Yesterday, one of the younger kids had tripped and scraped half the skin off their arm on the basketball court. Will had been there with a soft smile and gentle, glowing hands, speaking quietly and cracking small jokes until the kid was laughing again. Nico tries to imagine that here, soft words and lighthearted jokes. It doesn’t seem right. Would he — touch Percy’s wrist, like he did with Clarisse? Drag the fight right out of him?

Is Percy even angry? Nico has seen him angry before. Murderous. Fuming.

He’s never seen him cry.

Percy’s voice is like palms scraping hard over sharp gravel stones. “I made Annabeth cry this morning.”

The way he says it makes it hard for Nico to actually understand his words. His tone of voice is — volatile, is the best way he can describe it. Loathing. Based on the curling self-hatred dripping from the sentence Nico would assume he’d tried to kill her — he says I made her cry like he doesn’t deserve to live for it. Like he’s hoping to be punished.

“That happens,” Nico says. He swallows. “When you — love people.”

He and Bianca made each other cry a lot. He just never — stopped, never gave her half a second. Sometimes she looked at him and he knew she wanted to hit him. She never did. But he knew and she knew he knew and sometimes it would well up in her eyes, and she would lock herself in the bathroom of their room and turn on the sink and cry and cry and cry. And it ached something nasty in the cavity of his chest.

Percy sneers at his hands, flexing his fingers. “People who love you don’t make you cry. That’s just — hurting. That’s people who hurt everyone around them.”

Nico frowns. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” he says venomously. “I’m supposed to be — I’m supposed to protect her. I’m supposed to keep her safe, keep her from people who cause her pain.”

“People like you?”

Percy nods.

Nico drags his teeth over his bottom lip. He thinks of bleeding fingers clinging to a tiny shaft of rock, thinks of dangerous green eyes, hard voices; thinks of a thick web clinging to a broken ankle and an abyss. Thinks of promises and oaths and choosing. Thinks of falling. Thinks of letting go.

“People who want to harm Annabeth do not jump into the Pit for her.”

The pages of Percy’s textbook have started to dry. The ink has bled, dark splotches in perfect circles. The fountain bubbles gently behind them, mattress creaking under shifting legs.

“You don’t understand what I —” He pauses, swallowing. “Did, down there.”

“D’you hurt her?”

“…I scared her.”

“Oh, well — Christ, Percy! Is that really what this — brooding is about?” He scoffs. “No shit you scared her!”

“…What?”

Percy looks at him, wide-eyed. Nico rolls his eyes.

“Aw, when you were fighting for your life in the place meant to tear your essence into atoms, did you do things that make you question your personhood? Your morals?”

“I ���”

“Of course you did, dumbass! Of course you —” he takes a breath, trying to organize the jumble of thoughts in his brain — “of course the physical manifestation of darkness and distortion made you act differently than you would usually, Percy. Of course it — affected you. Gods. Of course you’re struggling.” He flicks Percy’s knee, looking at him with exaggerated exasperation. “Use your brain, why don’t you.”

A small smile quirks the corners of Percy’s mouth, although it fades as quickly as it comes. He wipes his face with his sleeve, breath shuddering.

“She didn’t scare me, though.”

“Not even once?”

“Not in the same way,” Percy admits. “I was scared, once, when I looked at her. In the death mist. But that wasn’t — her, you know? She could never scare me.”

“I mean,” Nico wrinkles his nose, trying to articulate, “I think that’s kind of abnormal?”

Percy tilts his head.

“I just mean that you have a very high threshold, Percy. For…what you’ll tolerate from people you care about.”

“Everyone has that.”

“Not in the same way you do.” He taps his knuckles, considering. “Tell me the truth — if Annabeth stabbed someone to death in front of you, in total cold blood, would you help her hide the body?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. He shrinks, a little. “Oh.”

Nico rushes to assure, placing a fleeting touch on his wrist. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing. I don’t think. It’s just —” He shrugs. “I’m used to scaring people, too. I don’t mean to. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand what I — do, it’s not intentional.”

Percy opens his mouth, but Nico stumbles on.

“But you’re not — a monster, Percy, gods. No one thinks you’re a monster. Especially not Annabeth.”

Percy wiggles his finger under his watch strap, turning it tightly around his wrist, cutting off the circulation. Nico watches but doesn’t say anything.

“You’re not, either.”

Nico blinks. “Huh?”

“A monster,” he explains. “You’re not, either.”

“Oh.” Nico shrugs. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No, I mean it, dude, I — look. Listen.” Percy sighs. “You got baggage. I put some of it on you. I’m sorry.”

Hands around his — throat — angry, angry eyes — harder — bruising — you promised! you promised! you promised!

“It’s fine.” A pause. “I did shit to you, too.”

“It’s not fine. And I know you did. We can still —”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He sighs again, a long, defeated sound, and curls in on himself.

“One day you’ll forgive yourself,” Nico murmurs. “One day I’ll — me too, I guess. Me and you.”

Percy smiles tiredly. “And we’ll be okay?”

“No. You’ll still be annoying.”

He snorts. “Whatever. Drama queen.”

“Oh, I’m the drama queen, Mr. I Don’t Deserve To Be Loved.”

Percy snorts. He turns back to his textbook, fiddling with the dried page, and snorts again, trying to duck his head. Nico bites the corner of his mouth, hard. Percy glances up again, and Nico meets his eyes, and they —

Gods, they’re bad at this.

But suddenly Percy can’t choke back his laughter, and it’s wheezing and self-deprecating and still kind of teary and Nico is laughing, too, because thank the gods that shit is over. Percy’s red-cheeked and Nico is red-cheeked and neither of them are going to look at each other for a week, Nico’s sure, but for now he can roll his eyes at Percy’s melodrama and dodge his embarrassed shoving, and it’s fine.

“You should talk to Annabeth,” Nico suggests, when the giggling has toned down.

Percy picks at the torn-up skin around his nails. “Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

“Why were you lying on the floor?” Percy asks instead. It is the least subtle subject change of all time, but Nico takes it as the hint it is and drops the subject. It’s not his business, anyway. They’ll talk. He knows Annabeth better than to think she’ll let it fester, at least.

“Oh, you know. Crushing weight of being alive, mortifying ordeal of being known, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Oh my gods. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Well, serves you right then, you selfish bitch.”

Percy snorts. “What, I cry all over you and now it’s your turn to vent?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how it works. Transactional and eye-for-an-eye. Exactly as friendship should be.”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Percy says, but he can’t tamp down his smile any more than he can stop his eyes from rolling, so there. Nico is exactly as funny as he thinks he is, thank you very much. A regular comedian.

Percy snaps textbook closed and sets it on the bedside table. “So.”

“So.”

Nico squirms. Suddenly he’s not sure why the hell he came in here in the first place. Are the floors in Cabin Thirteen really that bad? Surely not. Surely Floor Time didn’t have to be in Percy’s cabin.

(He blames Father for this. He’s horribly nosy. No doubt he’s passed his nosiness onto Nico, irregardless of his lack of DNA, and made Nico the way that he is. He can’t think of a single other reason he ducked into the cabin after lunch, when Percy still hadn’t shown his face.)

“Dude, come on. You came in here and whined and huffed and made a nuisance of yourself for literally forty minutes, and now that I’m giving you the attention you begged for you don’t want it? Nuh-uh. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill about,” Nico protests, “gods, can’t a man just complain in peace —”

“Ha! Not sure you can call yourself a ‘man’ if you’re voice is still cracking, squirt.”

“I literally hate you. Not joking.”

“Uh-huh. Okay.” Percy raises an eyebrow. “Well, since my guts are already spilled out and flopping all over the floor —”

“Disgusting.”

“—so it’s your turn, now.” He pokes Nico’s bicep. Nico bats him away, rolling off the bed and hitting the floor, scooting over to put more space between them. Thankfully, Percy doesn’t follow, and he exhales, settling his back against the bed frame. The mattress springs creak again as he readjusts. “You can tell me, you know.” Nico can hear the smile in his voice at the cheeky repitition. “I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything. Ahem.”

“You’re so annoying.” Nico picks at a loose thread in the knees of his pants, looping it around his finger.

Will thinks ripped jeans are stupid. He hadn’t said so outright, when Nico came back from his Aphrodite-Cabin-enforced shopping trip, but Nico had noticed his pursed lips and deliberately schooled face. When he’d pressed about it, pestering him until he’d given up with the very southern passive aggressive if you like, Nico, I love, don’t you worry about it answer, he’d gotten a forty minute rant about jeans that “sold less jean for more fuckin’ money” that made him laugh until he cried.

He yanks the thread and pulls. The hole widens.

“Oh my gods, you’re actually whipped. Is that what this is?”

Nico flushes. “Shut up.”

“It is!” Percy grins widely, wicked delight in his eyes. “You are literally thinking about him right now! You might as well be kicking your feet! You —”

“Shut up, Percy, gods.”

“I’ve never seen you so red,” he says instead, because he is incapable of following instructions. His smile fades, face softening into something more pensive. “You must really like him.”

Nico shrugs. Is that what he feels for Will? Gorgeous. I’ve been crushing on you forever. He likes a lot of people. You always know just what I need. A lot of people aren’t Will.

“He’s not scared of me.” No matter how much he fiddles with it, the metal of his ring is always cold. Cold hands, he supposes. He never heats up much. “Or. intimated. Creeped out. He thinks I’m —”

He clamps his mouth shut. A bubble of something expands in his chest, growing out of his lungs, past his shoulders, pushing his throat closed. He swallows, hard, trying to shove it back, but — Nico! Hey! You think I couldn’t stand to see a friendly face? No way, Death Boy, no more Underworld-y magic for you! I can literally feel you fading! My hands are still shaking — here, feel.

“Gorgeous?” The smile on Percy’s face is teasing, but much softer than before. “I heard he — said.”

Maybe it’s the redness of Percy’s nose that hasn’t quite faded, or his still-puffy eyes, but finally the bubble pops, and Nico sighs, tipping his head back until it rests on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes. After a beat of hesitation, callused fingers brush through his hair, ruffling it, lingering awkwardly before pulling away. He smiles.

“Yes.”

“…Really? He just up and told you, that he had a —”

Percy stumbles on the words. Nico peeks one eye open and grinning wryly. “Yeah. He’s a hell of a lot braver than I am. Or maybe he’s just shameless.”

“He was always really intense about being your friend.” Percy screws up his face, tilting his head as if envisioning it. “I didn’t understand what that meant, at first. I didn’t get…the reason? Behind it? If that makes sense.”

“You forgot about gay people,” Nico says drily. “I know.”

“This is true,” Percy admits. He grins, sheepish. “That’s an L on my part. Every time me and Annabeth went looking for you he’d somehow know about it and ask us a bajillion questions when we got back. I just thought he was really into necromancy, or something, but now it’s like…damn.”

Nico covers his eyes with his hand, fighting back an embarrassed smile. He thinks your eyes are a tie between moonstone and agate, in case you were wondering. There is literally not a single soul in this camp unaware about how much he likes you.

“You’d think it would be easier to get him to go out with me, then.”

“It hasn’t been?”

Nico throws his hands up. “No! He doesn’t — I got him flowers, Percy, and he ground them up to make a poultice. He thought the rock I got him was a bribe. I open every door for him and I always pull out a chair for him at counsellor meetings. I make sure to stand up first when we’re sitting together and offer him a hand. I don’t know what else I can — do, gods.” He makes a noise of frustration, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m being as obvious as I can be. What am I gonna have to do to get him to realise? Fuckin’ — tattoo his name on my forehead?”

Percy slides his hand into his pocket, pulling out his pen. He twists it around his fingers, fiddling with the cap, picking at the plastic casing. He uses the end of it to trace mindless swirls on his thigh, which Nico can’t help but feel is dangerous. One wrong move and he better hope Nico can drag him to the fountain fast enough to stabilize him. But his eyes are far away, teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

“There is a chance,” he says slowly, “that he…knows.”

Nico frowns, turning to face him properly. He looks resolutely at his lap. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I — well.” He does finally uncap his blade, staring at the soft glow of the bronze, rubbing his thumbnail over the leather handle. “I. Knew,” he says haltingly. “That Annabeth liked me. I —”

Nico watches him carefully. This is…news, to him. He didn’t keep up much on camp drama about the two of them — for obvious reasons — but he hardly had to. Even during his brief, one or two day stops at Camp, Percy and Annabeth gossip was impossible to avoid. People talked about them constantly, about how much they obviously cared for each other, how oblivious, especially, Percy was. It used to give him a twisted sort of hope.

“You…knew? And you didn’t do anything?”

Percy winces. “She got frustrated with hiding it. She kissed me, once, before I blew up St. Helens. And I just —” He shrugs. “I couldn’t believe that someone like her would want anything to do with someone like me.”

It’s impossible to miss his meaning, to miss the self-directed bitterness at the end of his words. Nico recognises it because he practically invented it. Someone like me. Someone disgusting, ugly, unworthy. Someone bitter and twisted and wrong. Someone so undeserving.

“I think Will is like me,” Percy continues softly. “That — insecurity.” He says the word quickly, like he might be able to hide it in the rest of the sentence. “I think he thinks very highly of you. And I think it’s hard for him to believe that you want to — to lower yourself, to be with him.”

“That’s inane,” Nico argues. “He’s — bright and kind and smart and — he’s fucking everything, what is he —!”

“He grew up a healer in a camp full of warriors. Full of talented people,” Percy murmurs. “When you’re surrounded by people who know what they’re doing, it’s easy to feel like a loser.”

Nico opens his mouth, closing it again. On principle he doesn’t agree with Percy. It doesn’t make sense. Every single person at this camp has relied on Will in more than one way for as long as he’s been here — as long as he’s been healing them. How could he not know what his purpose is? How could he not realise his talents?

Ace bandage, sound and unwound. Hard blue eyes, self-directed sneer. I’m just a healer.

“He’s not a loser,” Nico says eventually. “I don’t think he’s a — loser.”

Nico thinks he’s quite a bit more than that, actually. In fact if all words in the any language he knows, ‘loser’ is probably the least apt to describe him.

“How do I make him realise? Make him —”

Percy shrugs. “Took Annabeth several years and I still think I’m — well. I still struggle. You’ll have to be patient.” He glances over, and that mischevious smile is back on his face, the one that promises trouble and guarantees Nico an excuse to kick him. “Or, you know, you could just tell him that you think he’s bright, and kind, and smart, and beautiful, and —”

Nico does indeed kick him. He falls back against his pillow, laughing, curled against his side.

“I did not — I did not say beautiful,” Nico says hotly, “that was not on the list, you total jackass —”

Percy only laughs harder, no matter how many times Nico kicks him.

———

next

[earthpleasures]

SIMP OF CENTURY !

Percy Jackson x fem!child of nyx!reader

Summary: Your reserved personality sparked curious thoughts in Percy's mind for years. Whenever he tried to get close to you, it backfired on him. But Hero of Olympus was never taught to give up.

Warnings: swearing, reader described as having 'night-like dark eyes'

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I haven't watched the pjo show, which means Percy's character and looks are based off the books. Louis is just a fan cast. I adore Walker, and I think he's such a good actor. So if you wish to imagine Percy as show Percy, you're free to do so! <3

dividers by: @benkeibear

"when I saw her walking down the street

she looked so fine, I just had to speak.

i asked her name but she turned away"

- mmm yeah by austin mahone, pitbull.

Everyone in the Camp Half-blood liked Percy Jackson, the most influential figure of the Second Titan War. Y/n did too, but not in the way young boy wanted. She saw him as a hero, no more of that. Which made Percy yap about her next to Annabeth's ear. Blonde could swear goddamn Seaweed Brain had no fucking dignity when it comes to Y/n. 

Being one of the children of Nyx, she was powerful. She was powerful yet in the background. He still remembered the scary ass encounter he had with her mother, Goddess of Night warning him to stay away from her daughter. 

Percy ‘impertinent’ Jackson never obeyed a word of Gods, said goddess being a primordial goddess didn't change his view of Immortals. Of course he was a little scared though, not of a goddess but of an angry and protective mother.

“To left! TO LEFT! HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GUYS FORGET ABOUT Y/N!?” Connor screamed his lungs out as Y/n ran to the red flag. Her keeping quiet for most of the game caused all other red team members to forget about the girl's presence. 

Percy took a breath as he charged towards her. His sword touched her back, threatening her to step away from the flag. “C'mon, stars. We both know how this is gonna end.” She wet her lips and sighed. “Yeah, whatever.” She stepped away from the flag. Percy was about to smirk with victory when she rushed towards the flag again. 

Without thinking a second, he threw his body over hers, preventing her from grabbing handle. “What the fuck Jackson!?” Her angry voice rang through the area as they rolled on the soil together. His legs straddled her. “Looks like we ended up on top of each other again.” He said, referring to all other games. Y/n narrowed her eyes as her lower suddenly lifted from the ground and threw the boy over her body. “Arrogant bastard.”

She ran to the flag without allowing herself to catch her breath, leaving Percy behind who's groaning with pain on his back. “Damn, girl. It hurted.” He mumbled as he stood up. Last thing he saw was Y/n smirking at him with her knuckles wrapped around the handle of the red flag. She let herself fall into the shadows of the flag tower and mix into the darkness. 

She was only child of Nyx that could shadow travel properly and was allowed use it only once during game since it would be unfair to other campers and game wouldn't really have a meaning as long as she played. And of course she kept it for this moment. 

He cursed as he heard the honk announce the victors, tearing a few pieces of grass and throwing them to air. “Well, at least we had physical contact…” He pouted, trying to console himself.

“Hey, what's up, stars? Drawing the moon again? Can I see it? Please?” He spoke quickly, afraid she would disappear into darkness as usual. Girl looked up to him from her sketchbook. Sparks of little stars illuminated her night-like dark eyes, passed to her from Nyx. 

“Don't you have better things to do, Jackson? Training new kids, doing your shit as one of the ‘Counselors’? Or better, go mourn your loss and your back.” 

Her voice was bitter as ever. Y/n didn't really have any friends in camp. It wasn't that she had distaste for others, socializing wasn't her thing at all. However she never acted rude when someone reached her for help. Only ‘friends’ she had were her siblings. Being their counselor, they had to speak to their oldest sister even if they didn't want to.

He narrowed his eyes. “That's rude. You almost broke a few of my ribs.” Y/n raised her eyebrows with eraser on her hand. She spoke while getting rid of a crocked line from the white paper. 

“Sounds like a you problem, my ribs seem to be perfectly fine.”

“And also, looking at my schedule, I have all day for you.” He smiled, green eyes reflecting the sunshine. She gave him an uninterested stare. “Good for you then?” Percy knew damn well that expression on her face. She's going to disappear again. He exclaimed her name. His fingers wrapped around her wrist before she became one with shadows. 

He shadow traveled before, he knew the feeling. But it didn't relax his senses as his reflexes screamed to kick and escape. When they arrived at their destination, it was dark everywhere. His brows furrowed unintentionally. “Where are we?” Y/n looked really troubled with his presence being next to her. “What the hell is wrong with you!? Why would you stick to my wrist like a leech!?” He smirked at her distressed state. 

“Only a leech for your attention.” He winked.

“If you keep talking like a fuckboy, you will experience my affection right on your cheek in a very violent way.”  

“Yes ma'am.” 

He put his hands to his hips as he inspected their surroundings. Giant green pine trees were surrounding them, not a sound coming from the forest besides wind hitting branches. “So, back to my previous question, where are we?”

She bit her lower lip as if she didn't wanna answer the question asked. “Uh, we're kind of… on the other side of the world?” Percy's face went completely blank. “What?” 

“We're in a country where it's night right now.” He stared at the moon shining above them, the weather was clear enough to see the stars with bare eyes. “Really? That's quite exciting, which country are we in?” She thought for a second.

“Turkey.” He couldn't help but snort. She pressed her lips together at the strange choking sound he let out. “If you're going to make that immature ass joke I am gonna leave you here and never come back.” He tried to retain his serious look after hearing her not-so-fully-threat sentence. He knew she would actually leave him here with no mercy. 

“Okay, okay. Jokes aside, this forest is the definition of peace.” She looked around them, smiling at the beautiful view while inhaling the clear oxygen. “Beautiful places are always hidden by the ugliness of metropolises.” His gaze locked on her rarely seen eased-up face. “Yeah, it's beautiful…” 

“I travel to places where it's night whenever I feel the pressure of a stressful day or when I am trying to escape your boyish remarks.” Percy put a hand on his chest and fake gasped. “How dare you call them boyish? I put my whole heart into them!” She let out a low toned giggle, keeping quiet to not to disturb the rest of the animals. 

“I apologize for my rudeness, Mr. Jackson. I haven't noticed that you poured your heart into wasted attempts of flirting.” Percy sat on a fallen log, tip of his foot digging into fresh soil. “They're not wasted attempts. Nothing is wasted when I do it for you.” 

For the first in their years of banters, Y/n was taken aback. “I… appreciate your efforts Percy. But I just don't get what makes me so valuable in your eyes. I am not the strongest swordsman in camp, or the most beautiful girl around. I don't return your flirts or compliments. It's strange to see you never give up on… me.” 

Percy looked into the depths of her eyes, green eyes holding more than just interest ignited in his heart. “I don't care about how beautiful or how strong you're. I care about who you are. I care about the girl who can't help but chuckle when she sees owls flying around her, I care about the girl who helps anyone in need of her, I care about the girl who makes incredible drawings.” With languid movements, he stood up from the log he was settled on. His calloused hands gently reached to her, fingers interlocking with hers.

“I always kept my efforts on you because you never said anything about me harassing you. If I ever sensed you being uncomfortable around me to the point you can't stand my presence, I would've stopped. Hope kept me going.” Her confused expression softened as his sentences progressed. She could feel her eyes watering, tears were ready to overflow and roll down on her cheeks. 

“Percy…” His finger rubbed her palm, grayness from the pencil smearing his thumb too. “I am so sorry Y/n. For making you feel distressed in a place where you should be secure from all threats. I've never been flawless and i-” 

His eyes shoot open when soft, cold lips pressed against his. Her hands clutched on his orange t-shirt, eyes closed as she let herself get lost in sensation. Soon enough, he came to his senses too, hands flying to cup her cheeks. 

When they parted he laid her forehead against hers, she let out a chuckle. “You look so red, like my rose drawings.” He embraced her, not giving an answer to her teasing. All he needed was to feel her skin against his and inhale the scent he has been longing for years. His face buried on the crook of her neck. “Y/n?” 

She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Yes?” 

“I think I am gonna faint cause my heart is beating abnormally fast.” 

“What- PERCY! OH MY GODS!” 

Her shock filled shriek echoed through the whole forest, six feet tall Percy Jackson collapsed on her. “Are you kidding me!?” She did the first thing that came into her mind, took him back to Camp Half-blood.

Percy opened his eyes, the ceiling of the cabin welcomed him. “Fuck, it was all a dream again.”

“Woah, you dream about me?” 

Young boy let out an almost girlish scream as he pulled his blanket over his chest like he tried to protect his pudicity. Y/n grimaced. “Goddammit Percy, roosters are amateurs next to you.” His ragged breath slowed down when he saw the very face that was the star of his ‘dream’. 

“You aren't dreaming, I kissed you, so-”

“WE'RE DATING NOW!?” 

And that was how all residents of Camp Half-blood learned about their relationship.

Upcoming days, Percy was like a limb of her. Eighty percent of his time was spent with her, the other twenty percent he was yapping about her to Grover and the rest of the Seven. 

Contrary to what she thought, days turned weeks, weeks turned months, months turned years. Percy kept torturing everyone around him about his girlfriend, his fiancée and his wife. 

And maybe they weren't Immortal, but through generations, Camp Half-blood remembered the lovesick couple of 21th century.

©2024 earthpleasures do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[xoxochb]

it's me again, hehehehe 🙈

semaine de la mode - (jason grace + t.s. invisible string)

⋆·˚ ༘ * one single thread of gold tied me to you

warnings: soulmate au pairing: jason grace x fem! reader a/n: the ending is a tad rushed 😣

jason grace was a fucking disaster. the quest was thrown off track when you had been taken by some stupid monster. you had an attempt to hurt it by instead it took you in its hands, incinerating you almost instantly, the only thing left was gold ashes. where you went was a mystery to everyone on the argo ii except for the son of jupiter. he knew exactly where you were

he didn’t quite know why, however. he just knew. It was weird, when any of his others friends were apart for him, it was unknown where they could be. whenever you weren’t in the very blurry vision of jason grace he knew where exactly you were. even if it was just at night, if you were laying in bed he would know, if you walked past him he knew where you were going and it worried him

why were you so special? he loved you, yes- admittedly more than anyone else on the ship but you weren’t even dating. but of course you were special to him, jason held you so dear in his heart and if something bad were to happen to you he might have to be institutionalized or he’d never survive

did he only feel your parting because he was in love with you? because he sure as hell wasn’t in love with anyone else, you were the only thing occupying his mind. it might’ve been annoying to others but oh gods he loved you and nothing could ever make him hate the thought of you

jason grace couldn’t sleep. since you were taken, not even a minute of rest came to him. he spent his nights and days planning how to rescue you. even when his eyelids shut the vision of you tied up in gods know where was mortifying, enough to keep him going until you were safe in his arms once again

he spoke to his friends about the reoccurring visions of you in despair, they- of course- helped him find you. two weeks after your kidnapping the argo ii arrived at your keeping. it was a dark cave, most definitely monster-infested but he would rather risk his life than let you die. jason assured his occupants that he could handle finding you himself, percy begged to help but jason declined and entered the stygian cave

It was dark. It was very dark. jason had no clue where he was going but nonetheless he kept going, eager to see you again. he reached a two way path- right or left, right or left…

he went right. as stupid as it sounds jason picked right because it was your favorite direction (you had told him this one night when he couldn’t sleep, it was the middle of the night and it amazed you that he remembered it). the ground was wet. he knew this was a good sign because in his visions he had seen water behind you. just as he thought he was getting close something stops him

jason looks up from the ground. a very ugly cyclops stands before him. oh he nearly screams but the content face of the monster is highly disturbing enough to stop any sound coming from his mouth

“wedding guest” says the cyclops

jason contemplates answering because seriously- what kind of statement is that? he pulls out his sword incase what he’s about to say is not cyclops appropriate

“who’s wedding?”

the cyclops proudly puffs out his chest. “y/n and me”

oh no

“where is she?”

“are you a wedding guest?”

“I’m here to object”

“you will not”

jason is thankful for the darkness of the cave. he positions his sword towards the cyclops. “who says?”

“I do”

“yeah?”

the cyclops nods. three… two… one… jason slides his sword into the monsters abdomen. the cyclops does not like this, attempting to rip it out but jason makes sure that it will not, sliding it in further until it reaches the opposite side. the monster makes noises in pain and occasional curses, his hands stay tightly around whatever part of the weapon he could reach

he left the cyclops there and rushed away. yes, maybe he should’ve waited until it was dead but honestly when he was this close to finding you nothing else really mattered. nothing else ever mattered when you were in his presence

jason wasn’t entirely sure how he knew which way to go but before he knew it he reached your temporary jail. something happened when your eyes met. as cliché as it sounds electricity ran through your body. jason ran to you as fast as possible, struggling to untie the ropes tears escaped his eyes

“jason” you muster out. and who knew a simple word could enlighten such a reaction but he stopped everything and looked up at you. the position admitted a little sexual since he was kneeling before you, he stood up quickly with a reddened face

“I’m sorry, I- didn’t, oh gods”

“jason, please. there’s a dagger in my back pocket”

with both of you hysterically crying wasn’t helping the situation. he hurried- yet remained respectful slid the dagger out from your back pocket, using it to first untie your hands, the kneeling once again (with your permission, he wasn’t sure if this was comfortable for you) to untie your ankles. he throws the dagger to the side and you throw yourself into his arms, he crumbled at the sensation, taking in your scent

“I missed you, gods, I thought I’d never leave” you cry into jason’s shoulder

he strokes his fingers through your hair to calm you, although he wasn’t very calm himself. “It’s okay, I’m here”

your grip on his shirt so tight you’re sure your fingers would’ve been turning white. “I don’t want to leave you again”

“I won’t let you”

“do you promise?”

“I swear it”

[pipwritesoccasionally]

"stay away from my husband!"

nanami x reader (of course)

in which nanami goes on a mission but doesn't come back for hours, leaving the reader to come to his aid.

gender neutral reader

wc: 1391

sorry if the special grade spirit/any of the cursed energy mechanics are wrong! i barely know how it works honestly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you knew that he couldn’t handle the special grade curse with only one other grade one sorcerer around. hell, you’d told him as such this morning, and even offered to ask yaga to go on the mission with him, but of course kento’d refused. 

“i can’t let you get hurt, (y/n),” he’d said, only causing you to cross your arms in anger. 

“and you think i could let you? absolutely not,” but he’d continued getting ready anyways. kento left like always, kissing you sweetly before closing the door behind him. you knew he was cautious, but after hearing that three second grade sorcerers had gone to shoko in critical condition, you felt justified in feeling worried. 

the afternoon crept past at an agonizing pace, leaving you unfocused and stressed. you’d tried to relax, but the silence only seemed to amplify the sound of your pounding heart. 

he’d said that the mission should only last two hours, three if the curse put up a really good fight, but it had been six hours now, and there was no sign of your husband. you know that he can handle himself, but if he’s with another grade one sorcerer, especially someone younger than him, you know that he would do anything to protect them. 

“fuck,” you mutter, jumping up and rushing to your weapons’ shelf to grab your cursed weapon of choice. the sword handle chills your hand, but you sheath it quickly and run out the door. 

as you run, you scramble through your memories to find the address kento had told you earlier– “for safety”-- and throw it into your gps. the route hasn’t even loaded before you throw your car in reverse and make your way down the narrow street. 

“if you’re dead when i get there kento…” you know that you’re talking to yourself, but due to the high stress situation, you can’t seem to care. 

thankfully, the address where kento was sent to intercept the curse is only fifteen minutes from your house, though that does little to calm your worries. after all, if it’s so close to home, what’s taking him so long? 

the car slides in to a spot along the street, and you throw the door open, barely locking it before running into the building. grunts echo from above, and you start taking the stairs two at a time. when you make it up the first two flights, the air gets heavy with cursed energy, and you feel both relief and worry compound. at least somone is still alive. 

creaking floors and eroded stone decorate the inside of the stairwell, so you infer that the building has been abandoned for a while. that means you don’t have to hold back against whatever curse is there. 

the sounds of fighting get louder as you go up, until you find yourself in an open floor plan, face to face with the special grade cursed spirit.

who was seconds away from killing your husband. 

kento was against the wall, ragged breathing perturbing your already worried thoughts. seeing him in this state threw any hesitations you had out the already-broken-in window.

“stay away from my husband,” you threaten, tension grating your deepened voice. your trusty sword had already met your hand, and your cursed energy radiated into it in droves. the cursed spirit turned its head toward you, and it was then that you were able to really gauge the threat it posed. 

the beast’s long body coiled around like a scorpion, extending into a craning horse’s head. what’s more, two sets of long, feathered wings lay dormant against its body, creating a monstrous medley of an organism. the different characteristics of the curse most likely were the reason that your husband had such a problem with it, but you had the advantage of seeing it in its entirety before even beginning the fight. 

however, you felt the energy shift in the room, and your movements became slow, sluggish even. 

‘this must be part of its technique,’ you think, but unfortunately for the curse, you’d been a sorcerer for too long. 

it also helped that you had been adopted as a grade one sorcerer immediately after killing a grade one cursed spirit on your very first mission. as a freshman in high school. 

you ran to the other side of the room, hoping to distract the curse from kento, and swung your sword towards its body. it made contact, but the wound closed almost immediately. 

‘it has reversed cursed technique too? no wonder its special grade,’ this made the task of eliminating it much harder. 

“darling, i told you not to come,” kento said, stabilizing himself against the wall. 

“that stubborness could have gotten you killed,” you reply, striking the curse again to no avail. kento joins the fight, the two of you working together seamlessly. 

“i’ve been trying to find its weakspot, and i don’t think it’s anywhere in the body,” he says, and you nod. 

“then it has to be in the wings, i’d assume. cut them off and it should disintigrate on its own. hopefully,” you say, running towards the curse, sliding under it and slicing all the way down. kento follows, immediately making his way towards the wings, slicing at one. your sword lodges into the beast’s body, getting stuck part of the way through, and you push it up further up into the curse’s body. it screeches, and kento takes that time to slice the other wing. the two of you had always been such great partners, not even having to relay your plan before the two of you begin to work in sync. your movements begin to speed up, letting you know that your endeavor had worked. however, the beast was disintigrating too slowly, allowing it to still attack. 

your sword had been dislodged from the curse and you found yourself behind it, watching everything happen in slow motion. it thrusted its head towards your husband, clearly meaning to get one last attack in, and while he would normally be able to evade quite easily, he’d been here for hours and his exhaustion was clear. 

‘Fuck no,’ you thought, pulling yourself together and running straight towards the curse. all of the cursed energy you possessed was in your sword, and you made an arc, slashing it right through the curse’s neck. its head came clean off, and you positioned your body towards your husband, pushing him out of the way to take the weight of the head onto your own body. 

a crack echoed in the room, probably from one of your ribs, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. the curse disintegrated, leaving you on the ground, eyes peering over at your husband. 

he groaned weakly, slowly pushing to a stand, and he walks over to you. 

“are you alright?” his eyebrows furrow in worry, and you shake your head, sitting up. 

“i should be asking you that. you fought that curse for hours and are still standing upright. we need to go visit shoko,” you say, wincing at the pain in your abdomen. kento comes over, kneeling next to you and putting a hand on your shoulder. you grab his hand, and he helps you stand up, the two of you leaning into each other. 

“what happened to the other sorcerer?” he’d been sent on this mission with another grade one sorcerer, who was no where to be found. 

“he got injured really badly, and i had him leave so i didn’t have to worry about protecting him too,” your heart warms at his care for your fellow sorcerers, but you can’t help but sigh. 

“this is why i came to get you. i love how protective you are, but you need another person here for fights like this,” a low hum fills the room as he agrees, and you lean your head on his shoulder. 

“can we go home? i think we can hold off on seeing shoko for a bit, i just need some rest,” your husband’s voice is scratchy as a symptom of his shallow breathing, and you want nothing more than to help him. the exhaustion washing over your body tells you that rest will do the both of you some good, so you nod, and start walking towards the door. 

“okay, let’s go home.”

[justaz]

arthur has always been suspicious of the tavern excuse for merlin’s absences, but he has no proof on the contrary and when confronted merlin either tells him outlandish tales of near death experiences that have no chance of being remotely truthful or he admits to and apologizes for slacking on his duties to get drunk. one day, he decides enough is enough and he and all the knights go to the tavern with merlin and arthur casually brings up merlin’s history in the tavern and says he could probably beat gwaine in a drinking contest. merlin tries to divert the discussion away from the idea but arthur is determined. they receive a round of drinks and arthur pushes a pint of ale into merlin’s hands with a look of challenge. merlin’s options are to either commit to the lie to hide his secret or admit to the lie and risk exposing his magic. he takes the former. merlin gives lancelot a Look and then slams back the pint of ale with a minor bit of gagging and pauses to breath. gwaine already finished his pint thirty seconds ago but its entertaining to watch merlin so he doesn’t say anything.

merlin (built like a twig, rarely drinks, lightweight) is proper sloshed. arthur is almost vindicated but he needs merlin to admit it. he orders two more pints and gives one to gwaine and the second to merlin, instigating the competition further despite the fact that gwaine won already. merlin grimaces and tries to do the same thing again but only gets a few gulps in before he folds. he slams the mug down and gives arthur a kicked puppy look before admitting and apologizing for lying. arthur is Vindicated. merlin is still wasted.

the nights wears on and merlin feels the effect of the ale more and more every minute that passes. he sits between arthur and lancelot and feels almost unbearably warm but that could be bc of the alcohol in his system, or the crowded tavern. merlin looks around and watches the people that pass their table by while the knights talk and joke and laugh amongst themselves. merlin feels relaxed and excitable now, his worries seem to have melted away and he cant seem to remember why he was always so stressed and worn down before. he sees a game of [insert game here] (i was gonna say darts but google says that game hasn’t been invented in canon time so ill leave it up to interpretation) going on and climbs over lancelot to join in.

the knights watch with amusement and anticipate merlin’s clumsy attempts at [whatever]. oddly enough tho, merlin is a fucking god at [game]. a small crowd gathers and betting pools form and then challengers approach and put money on the line to go against merlin and merlin absolutely demolishes them all. honestly if arthur didn’t know any better, he’d think merlin was using magic to win bc there was no way his bumbling fool of a servant was that good at…anything.

the challengers take their defeat with honor and grace. the audience is a huge fan of merlin and they keep buying him drinks but he just sends them to the table for the other’s to drink. many people come up to him and flirt, maybe motivated by all the money he won that night or maybe just bc he’s merlin, and when merlin responds to them he’s………..he’s a real good fucking flirt? like could put gwaine to shame and he’s rejecting them???? how can someone come across so flirtatiously while turning down offers to take various beautiful people to bed??

arthur was already itching to intervene when people were flirting with merlin but he seemed to have a handle on it so he let it slide, but then people started touching merlin and arthur’s hand had drifted to his hip where his sword was usually sheathed. however, again, merlin was very skilled at escaping the situations with little to no conflict and he came back to the table with his winnings. the knights cheer for him and order more drinks with his money which merlin is too inebriated to notice and truthfully doesn’t really care about. his eyes are on arthur and if arthur thought watching merlin flirt from afar was bad then having him up close in his personal space, hands brushing against his arms and dark eyelashes fluttering softly against his pale skin, breathing his name into the space between them and licking his full pink lips was absolute torture and the worst and best agony he couldn’t even dream up.

[alazystranger]

zolu fic recommendations? (i can take reading angst now)

Ooh, this is going to be bit of a long post. i have tried to include a mix of both angsty and otherwise.

*cracks knuckles* alright let's get down to it! I have included the summaries as given by the authors below the link.

let thy sword be thy tongue by queerweather. A personal favorite! I go back to this one a lot.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and Zoro is not afraid of Luffy handling his swords; Zoro is afraid of how Luffy handling his swords might unravel him.

Love you by willoffire123. Both angsty and sweet! Kind of like my comfort fic

When Luffy goes overboard one night during a winter storm, Zoro dives after him and the two are separated from their ship. Stranded on a winter island, slowly freezing to death, Luffy and Zoro come to realize their long dormant feelings for each other. Can they say their love in two words or less? Or will the winter island take their lives before they get the chance?

Loyal Till Death Do Us Part by StygianHeart. You said you can take angst now, anon? *cackles maniacally* this one has it all- whump luffy, traumatized zoro and what not. It has 13 chapters and it's absolutely worth it

Roronoa Zoro knows he’s loyal to a fault. And maybe that loyalty is only for his Captain and Crew. But realizing his loyalty for Luffy is also something more, something more personal and emotional, was not what Zoro wanted. And he definitely didn’t want the voices in his head to get so loud. But hey, we never get what we want, do we? In which Zoro figures out he’s in love with his captain and is in great denial, all while struggling through emotional repression and a bunch of shit he doesn’t deserve. Go figures.

running just to keep my hands on you by nevermordor. another fic i love to read again and again.

The thing they do is kind of like a game, because Luffy likes games, but it’s also kind of a competition because Zoro can’t not turn anything and everything into a competition. It doesn’t have a name and there are only two rules, because more than two would just be making things boring and overcomplicated. 1. Whoever takes out the most guys in a fight is the winner 2. Whoever is the loser has to do whatever the winner says “Why’s it gotta be a whole game and stuff," Luffy says. "That’s gonna take too long.” “It makes sex more fun," Zoro explains. "You gotta win it, you gotta earn it. Like anything good in life. Like pirate king or greatest swordsman.” Luffy considers this.

A gamble on love by SnailorBee. short and fluffy. had me grinning like an idiot. perfect fic to recover from the angsty ones.

Pre-Time Skip! "We have a bet amongst the crew, minus Chopper. You want in?" "A bet?" Brook repeated, mystified. "About what?" "If those two idiots are dating or not." Nami jerked her chin in the direction of the nap pile behind him. Strawhats and their bets about Luffy and Zoro.

To cut your teeth on love by freckledshoulderblades. basically a series of snippets from their first meeting to just after timeskip but full of zolu feels.

Zoro meets Luffy and gives himself over wholeheartedly the instant Wadō is placed between his teeth again. Luffy meets Zoro and decides in a heartbeat that Zoro is his.

poly philtatos(the most loved by far) by swordsmans. another personal favorite!

He keeps moving forward at a steady pace, resisting the urge to run because how fucking embarrassing would that be, running because he missed them, and as he breaks through the treeline he shouts, “Oi, oi—what took you guys so long? It's been—” And then he freezes, because yes, actually—something is very, very wrong. The Sunny is anchored just off shore, close enough to see the deck but far enough away that the crew has had to take the Mini Merry to make land. Scattered across the beach in various stages of chaos—rolling around, yelling, fighting—are his crew but not his crew, so similar and yet so, so different. They look younger, fresher, and whatthefuck there, on the deck of the Sunny just peering over the railing, he catches a flash of green—his own green hair— “Ah, fuck,” he grunts, and then immediately turns back around because no, actually, he does not want to deal with this.

These are a few of my picks. if you want more/shorter fics/if you were looking for something else, don't hesitate to send me another ask!

[htchnr]

★ mug after mug ❥ ASTARION.

➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ patreon. ➻❥ kinktober masterlist.

🎃 KINKTOBER PROMPT ➥ outdoor sex.

CW ➥ smut insinuation ⋆ SORRY for no actual smut on day 1 😭 ⋆ but i think the fic works like this just fine ⋆ making out ⋆ mention of blood ⋆ cleaning a sword ⋆ alcohol consumption ⋆ Astarion has full armor on ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

WC ➥ 1K. SONG ➥ Bad Decisions, Girlhood.

SUMMARY ➥ it's no secret the two of you have been pining for each other. so after a tough battle, and a tough night of admiring Astarion from afar, you both give in.

★ - © 2023 HTCHNR. do not copy, share or translate my work to this platform, or any other! - ★

it shouldn't be fair really — for him to look that good while covered in blood and grime. the way his brows furrow in concentration as he cleans the blood off his sword by the lake. his hands expertly handling the blade. what you wouldn't do to have his hands all over you —

"think any louder and i might actually hear it," Astarion chuckles, not looking up from his blade. maybe it's the wine talking — you had at least two bottles of whatever you managed to yank off Halsin, and you knew Astarion has had his fair share as well.

he wipes the cloth across the sword, cleaning the last drops of blood off. he sets the blade down, standing up as he works at taking his chest plate off. "are you going to stand there, or are you going to join me?" he asks, turning his back to you as he pulls the heavy piece of armor off and sets it by his sword.

you head towards him, slowly, step by step until you've reached the dock. you take a deep breath as you can tell from the corner of your eye that all his armor is off, all that he has left is his tunic and trousers. fuck it, why not? you ask yourself, shaking your head as your hands move to take off your own armor as well.

he chuckles from behind you, "that's it darling." you don't have to look at him to know he's grinning, eyes probably dragging across your form as you drop piece by piece of your armor.

you take a deep breath as you loosen the strings of your tunic, it felt heavenly to be rid of your armor. you exhale, sitting down on the dock. you shiver as your feet dip into the water, gods that feels good.

you close your eyes, leaning back on your hands. a peaceful night like this is definitely what you needed after the ridiculously long journey that was behind you. the cooling effect from the water, the swirling thoughts from the wine — you almost didn't realise Astarion was sitting himself down directly in front of you, and before you know it he's lifting you into his lap.

your eyes flutter open, instantly sitting up so your hands could make their way to his shoulders — his own arms holding your hips. maybe you had too much wine, but you found yourself speechless — the way his eyes shimmered in the moon light, the way his soft yet rough hands felt against your waist — you almost forgot how to breathe.

not to mention the euphoric feeling of your core settled so perfectly above his aching erection. gods you were getting more soaked than a river..

Astarion leans in a little, those fingers you fantasise about coming up to brush some hair behind your ear. "are you going to kiss me, or do i have to find someone else for tonight?" his voice low and teasing – a gentle twinge of impatience laced in.

the thought of him with anyone else tonight? you didn't have to be asked twice.

a pleased sound leaves his lips as yours mold themselves to his, his hands coming up to cup your face as you kiss him. gods above, his lips were even softer than they looked.

your hands trail from his shoulders to his neck, a soft moan coming from you as you lay back, pulling him above you as he deepens the kiss. you barely felt the slight ache in your back when it hits the dock, with the way his lips were devouring yours, you couldn't focus on anything else.

you gently tug on the hair at the nape pf his neck, his lips parting from yours with a pleasured gasp. your lips twitch at the sight of his slightly pleasure furrowed brows — and to test the waters, you tug again, eyes closely watching the way his eyes flutter shut as you pull his lips back down by his hair. noted, you think to yourself.

you aren't the only tease tonight, a surprised moan leaving your lips as Astarion nudges one of his knees between your thighs, putting pressure just where you need it most. he grins into the kiss, as if he just scored a point.

"been wanting this for a while," you manage to get out between his lips. he teasingly bites down on your lower lip.

"what were you waiting for?" he asks, and you can tell from the tone in his voice that he's been waiting for this. he tugs your tunic over your head, tossing it aside with your armor. he tugs his own tunic off as well, throwing it off to the side.

you nip his lower lip, pulling back to look at him — and you find yourself drowning in his gorgeous red eyes. "honestly i have no damn idea," you whisper, one hand travelling his soft, naked waist — the other pulling his lips back against yours with a tug of his hair..

🎃TAGLIST — @toastbrot8410 @mrs-ssa-hotch @fictionallifestuff @weirdothatwritess @crystalflwr @stella95827 @taintedstranger @mija-novella @gffesegjoiegj @bubbly-parker @mediocremalachor15 @goldenangelwingsandcandy @0nex-is-dead0 @2hiigh2cry @the-1n0nly @hotchsdharma @tgskitten @crystlroses @notforeverlong @emmeilyy @whatisthereality

[mancer-in-the-abbey]

This thought has been rotating this in my, MODERN GHOULS (plus Aether) AND HOW THEY ACT IN A FIGHT LETS GO

Dewdrop: Strike hard, strike fast, don’t get hit, that’s the motto. In a brawl scenario he is the first to hit under the belt, dude LOVES to fight dirty and he’s hella resourceful. He doesn’t take hits as well as he used to before the elemental transition, but he’s been working on increasing his speed to make up for it. You cannot and will not see him coming if he decides to deal the first hit, Prefers hand-to-hand (claw-to-claw?) combat over ranged fighting or straight elemental fighting due to a harder time accessing his fire power, but when he does MANNN is it a DELUGE of fire. The whole house is burning down.

Aether: In a brawl scenario, being as big and physically strong as he is makes him excel at disbanding/de-escalating. Aether is really good at taking a punch and being just completely unfazed by it, which is useful in getting people acting a fool to knock it off. If it’s real life or death, though? Ohhhh buddy you done fucked up the minute you messed with the guy who stitches people back together with magic on the regular. If he can do that, how easy do you think it is for him to UN-stitch someone? He doesn’t even need to raise a fist for you to be done for.

Phantom: Phantom, I think, is flight over fight in most ways. If someone wants to start something, he just goes invisible and nopes out of there. Having said that, if he IS stuck in a fight, is the KING of improv. Where Dew can walk into a room and come up with 10 different ways the objects in it can kill a man, Phantom can be handed an object, ANY object, and he will make it work. Not necessarily out of skill, but just sheer blind panic and the need to arm himself. Real scrappy, that ghoul… he has thrown a knife at a toaster for going off too loud and scaring him.

Rain: Rain has VERY good control over his element. If he has a choice between fighting on land a fighting in or near water, he’s taking the water option. That said, water is slightly harder to come by in everyday life unless one is just constantly carrying a bottle of water with them at all times. That is, unless you want to burst the water pipes of a building, which he HAS done once by accident and it was VERY expensive to fix. Anyway, lucky for him Rain does tend to just carry water on him anyway. Man needs to be hydrated, and it also functions as his built in self-defense. You trying to fight? Get geysered with a Stanley Cup, idiot. Assuming water ISN’T an option at all, though, Rain is a biter. You will lose a finger and he will tell you what hot sauce he’d pair you with after. Just for the extra psychic damage.

Swiss: Call my man Rocky the way he didn’t hear no bell, Swiss is RELENTLESS. Stamina in fucking SPADES, it don’t matter how many hits he takes, he will Not! Go! Down! Him and Phantom are similar in that they’re both survivors by any means necessary. In Phant’s case, it made him the master of Ending Situations Fast. In Swiss’s, though, it’s made him durable as an anvil and persistent as a lion. Combine that with whatever element is closest at hand and he’s a force to be reckoned with. And if he has the time to get really creative with his elemental powers? Buddy, you are not leaving that fight the same man you came in, if you leave at all.

Cirrus: Girl was a brawler back in the pit, so to me fighting as a way of life followed her onto the surface. Every bit of her is a weapon. Her hands? Weapons. Her arms? Weapons. Legs? Weapons. Face? Weapon. She is so light on her feet, you will not be able to land a single hit on her. She can blow you off-balance or keep you at arms length, always giving her the upper hand in confrontations. She also knows how to handle actual weapons really well. It’s a hobby of hers, swords are her favorite for sheer cool factor but give that woman a quarterstaff and she will go to WORK.

Cumulus: That is a woman who has a mean, right hook, I just know it in my bones. She enjoys learning self-defense from Cirrus, though more for the exercise than the fighting capability. Cumulus, like Aether, is more a lover than a fighter. However, should the need arise, she is more than capable of stopping a brawl in its tracks. You wanna throw hands? Bam! Sudden atmospheric pressure migraine! What are you gonna do now, idiot? It’s a good way to get all parties involved to scatter fast, leaving her with a quiet evening to herself.

Aurora: Ranged! Fighting! Queen! Someone let her watch Hunger Games and she has been perfecting how to hurt people from a distance ever since. Her aim started out shaky but has gotten SCARY good, she can hit you in the head with a fastball special from a sports field away. Also, she uses her Quintessence powers to manipulate light. Usually this is just for doing cool tricks and making the space look pretty, but she WILL flash-bang you if provoked.

Mountain: Don’t. Just don’t! Mountain may be a gentle giant these days but he wasn’t always. If you like your bones where they are, just don’t fucking bother! He will avoid conflict if it is at all possible, but if he thinks you might be an actual threat to his family, there is nowhere on the continent you will be safe!



[legendsgalore]

Danger in the Deep

The farmer gets injured and collapses in the mine, who rescues them...? 6k words.

“Ah fuck fuck fuck.” You called out, too breathless to even shout, just a stream of consciousness falling from your lips at this point.

You twist in midair, trying to aim so you could come down with a sword stab on the attacking monsters, but you over judged the distance when you jumped and now are too far away. Instead you let yourself land on your feet, close to the edge of one of the water pools around you.

As you catch your balance, waving your arms a little to do so, you feel something hard *cRaCk* into your back and you gasp out in pain. It startles you enough that you topple forward and fall into the water.

“Fuc-” Splash! In you go. Instincts kick in and you fight for the surface, spluttering water as you push above.

But as you’re inhaling air, another *cRaCk* and you cry out in pain.

“Ahh! I swear, to whatever deity out there, Caldarus, or that ghost priestess lady, I will make you regret, ever, being, born!” A little breathy, but you hoped that the trio of iron ore covered rocks currently spitting more rocks at you got the idea.

They just spat more rocks at you and you dove to the side to avoid them, and hurriedly pulled yourself over the bank on the other side of the pool. You’re unsteady on your feet, barely any health left, and stumble once and nearly fall back into the water. On your feet now, you twist to dodge another rock barrage, and then turn back to look at the water, and eye the distance between the two banks.

With one nod to yourself, more for self reassurance, you hold your iron sword out to the side, run and leap over the distance. In midair you twist your shoulder to bring your sword over your head, and your other hand finds a grip on the weapon’s handle.

Just before you land in the middle of the three rocks, you release a battle cry and twist once more so that all your body weight and momentum is behind the sword, who’s point is facing downwards.

You land with an audible crunching noise into the ground, and the shockwave of force knocks all three iron rock monsters back, stunning them. Taking advantage of their momentary distraction you yank your sword out of the ground and start going to town on the nearest one.

It doesn’t even get a chance to recover from being stunned before its existence is forcibly removed by you, and you get to work on the second just as it finishes recovering.

You continue swiping your sword, even as the monster shoots another trio of rocks at you in defense, *cRaCk*, and your stubbornness wins out and it too, perishes.

Just as you catch your breath, something hard slams into your back *cRaCk* and your vision goes black for a moment in pain.

“Gah!” You can’t help but cry out, that hurt so bad.

Whirling around, you see the third monster you had somehow forgotten about. It was already gearing up to launch another barrage of rocks, those three pronged attacks that always hit you no matter how you dodged, thanks to your unfamiliarity with the pattern.

Forcing your feet to move, even when they feel so heavy like your boots were made of pure iron, you push forward and start attacking the last enemy. Once again you ignore dodging attacks in favor of just, killing it already!

You hack and swipe and stab your sword, ignoring the *cRaCk* *cRaCk* *cRaCk* as two attacks graze you, and on the third, you stab the rock into oblivion, but its last attack still nails you in the chest, causing you to stumble and fall. Your head hits the ground, and the rocks, hard.

“Ahgh!” You cry out in pain, again. You swore you might have heard something crack in you that time. Head injuries are no joke you know, but your head is so fuzzy that you can barely even think that.

You lie there for who knows how long, nausea washing up and away like the beach tide, as you breathe into the silence, wavering between holding back your whimpers and being unable to.

The Upper Mines were nothing compared to this. You were so unprepared, no armor, nothing. Three of those rock enemies who all take so many hits and just, keep, attacking.

Finally, your thoughts collect themselves enough that you realize you should probably sit up. The realization that you were so out of it that it didn’t even occur to you before scares you. You sway a lot, but you stay sitting up so you count it as a victory.

Tenderly you reach and push against your sternum where the last attack hit, and the pain is so intense it almost makes you black out.

It’s all you can do to remain sitting up for another stretch of time, but eventually your awareness comes back to you and you feel in control again. Even though you’re not pushing on your likely cracked sternum, your vision wavers and is fuzzy on the edges.

Looking around you, you note that the cavern you’re in is now empty, but the elevator is on the other side of that pool you crossed earlier.

You breathe out deeply, and wince at the fresh wave of pain that causes. Your whimper echoes in the cavern, and you shut your eyes tightly for a moment.

Gathering your willpower, you move your leaden feet again, feeling your leg muscles tremble as you stand up. Giving yourself a moment to adjust to the wave of black spots that rush your vision from the action, you eventually move to the edge of the water pool.

At the edge of the water, you debate internally whether to jump or swim, and you decide that you don’t want to risk being unable to climb back up the bank, so it’s jumping for you.

Pushing down your whimpers, you would shake your head if it didn’t hurt so much, and just force your body to move.

Taking a few steps back, you forcefully push your muscles into action, feeling strength course through your limps and pump out a few powerful steps before leaping over the water. You can’t help but smile in pride for yourself being able to do that much, and that all you need to do is head back down that hallway and then you’ll be right next to the elevator and will just be able to ride it up and out of the mines - until your vision just outright blacks out midair and your jump turns into a crashing leap.

You can’t even twist to try to land on your back, and your legs throb as you land badly, and then they go out from underneath you and you collapse in an awkward pile of limps and, again, your head hits the ground, hard.

____________________________________________________________________________

Balor is very casually leaned against the entrance of the Mines, holding a Snowdrop Anemone in his hand. He turns it over, examining the rare flora.

You had passed by him early this morning and had just simply handed him this very desirable flower. He didn’t understand you. You hadn’t put it in the shipping bin, you had apparently just found it and gave it to him because, he was there?

Your words had been “Just because you deserve it!” And that didn’t make things any clearer.

So here he was, back where he saw you that morning, pondering the meaning behind your actions. He was hoping to catch you as you came out of the Mines, no one in town had seen you since you went in and it was nearing dark, so you were bound to come out any moment.

All of a sudden, despite the summer weather, Balor felt a chill reach up his spine, as if something was permeating his body. It reached his head and before Balor could panic about the feeling he heard something on the breeze.

‘Help….mines….deepest…’

There was no way. But Balor felt that earlier chill seize his muscles and spurn him into action and before he knew it he was by the elevator inside the Mines.

“Hello! Are you there!!” Balor called out your name but there was no response.

Logic told him you should be fine, you had gone into the Mines literally everyday this past week, but that chill lingered in his bones and Balor couldn’t ignore it.

But he didn’t have a weapon and if you really were hurt, him being unarmed wouldn’t help the situation so he turned and ran out of the Mines. He needed to get a weapon.

His chest was heaving by the time he ran up to the Blacksmith’s, where he could see Olric helping March cool down the anvil and forge for the night, it was that late. They turned to look at him, and he watched as their curious but mild expressions immediately morphed into concern when they saw how hurried he was.

“Balor what’s-” Olric began but Balor spoke over him.

“Sell me a weapon now.”

March crossed his arms and frowned, stepping forward. “What for and why do you need it so desperately?”

Balor tolerated March’s prickliness because everyone knew how much he cared but the merchant felt frustration bubble up anyways, he had no time for that right now.

“The farmer is hurt in the mines and I need to go down and help her.”

The brothers’ eyes widened and they looked at each other. For a second no one said anything before they burst into action, Olric running inside shouting over his shoulder; “Gonna fetch the kit!” And March reached into the pile next to the still-cooling anvil and pulled out two swords.

His frown turns into a scowl and he thrusts the weapon at Balor, who takes it and turns to make his way to the Mines.

“Wait the fuck up, Olric is getting the first aid kit.” March calls out, his voice rough.

“Are you..coming?” Balor asks.

March scoffs, “Yeah of course we are. Olric literally worked down there he knows how to deal with all manners of problems. And I’m not just giving that to you, I want it back.”

The blacksmith nods at the weapon in Balor’s hands and he nods in return. Fair enough. But then…

“Why are you coming?”

March scowls even further somehow and holds up the sword in his hands. “Better two than one. Besides, I need to see what she’s gotten herself into this time and if she’s…”

The blacksmith’s face reddens and he makes a “tch” sound and looks to the door of the building. Balor narrows his eyes appraisingly at the redhead. Does he…?

Before the merchant can follow that train of thought Olric bursts out of the Blacksmith’s with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry! It wasn’t where it was supposed to be!” The retired Mines worker calls out.

“It’s fine let’s just go!” March falls in step with his brother as they, without pause, begin running to the Mines and Balor startles and has to catch up to the two.

It’s dark out, enough that fireflies scatter away from the trio as they run to the Mines. Balor is now convinced something is wrong because you’re usually out of the Mines by this point and you always first stop by the Blacksmith’s to make some bars out of the ore you find.

Looking at March and Olric’s faces, Balor knows the same thoughts are racing through their heads.

Heading into the ground floor of the Mines, the men stop by the elevator, and the brothers turn to look at Balor.

“What floor is she on?” March demands.

Realizing that he didn’t know for sure, Balor pauses, before remembering the chill from earlier and that message he heard. “Help…mines…deepest…”

He grips his sword harder and tells them, “She’s on the lowest floor this goes.”

March nods, and turns to his brother, “You know how to work this right? Get us down there.”

Olric hefts his backpack onto his back and says, “All right! Let’s go then!” And is the first to step onto the elevator.

Balor and March join him, and Olric remembers how to lower them so they begin heading into the darkness.

Balor hasn’t been into the Mines before, was content to just let you go and get those precious gems and such for him, and the rickety, old, wooden elevator doesn’t make him feel any better about this trip.

He catches glimpses of floors every so often, every five according to the number counter on the elevator, and they look dreary and dusty, and there are definitely plenty of monsters on them. Balor swears internally.

He on some level knew the danger the Mines posed to you, but to be confronted with it like this almost makes him feel bad for just letting you go by yourself with nothing but a “Good luck!” call.

He would try to deny caring for you as he always does, but by this point he doesn't think he can really do that. You’re his…precious business partner after all. A valued supplier.

March doesn’t swear internally though, his voice isn’t loud enough to echo but it’s still a startling departure from the silence that had only been broken by the creaking of the elevator.

“Fuck. I didn’t realize there were this many monsters down here. Olric, is this typical?” The blacksmith looks to his brother, who shakes his head.

“No, they stayed away from us, ‘cause I think there were so many of us. And we all got given weapons by Errol so even if one did show up we could handle it as a group.”

March swears again, “So that means the monsters are worse thanks to the Mines getting shut down, and she’s been by herself, against multiple enemies. Fucking-I should have said something!”

The blacksmith’s hand is white-knuckled around his sword and he shakes it once, as if he wanted to hit a table to let out his frustration but hitting the rickety elevator is not an option.

The intensity of March’s upset takes Balor aback. Of course anyone would be worried about the new farmer that has captured the heart of the town, but March has also been quite standoffish to them. The merchant’s instincts fire up inside him, something is up here.

And once more, before Balor can follow that train of thought, Olric calls out to them.

“We’re here!” Just before the elevator jerks to a halt.

The stop is sudden enough that Balor has to catch his footing before he stumbles off the shaking platform. Olric is fine, used to it, and surprisingly, March is fine too, glaring into the blueish-toned darkness as if it personally offended him.

Before the elevator stops swaying, March has leapt off the platform and stomped into the darkness. Olric joins after waiting for the platform to stabilize more, and Balor takes a glance at the floor number before following suit.

Floor 35…

From the elevator it’s a long and narrow hallway, where March takes the lead, with Olric close behind him. Balor realizes that at some point, the charge for this rescue mission was taken from him by the blacksmith, and that further piques his instincts that something is up. But this isn’t the time to wonder.

The two brothers are at ease in the caverns, Olric of course being familiar with the Mines, though perhaps not this deep, and somehow March has a confident grip on his weapon. Though he could be masking his uncertainty. Not that Balor could say anything about being out of his depth here.

He’s used a sword of course, but he hasn’t faced any real danger in a long time, not since before the earthquake when he was doing more traveling. But, he thinks back to the Snowdrop Anemone in his pocket, he would do a lot to make sure that you were safe.

The thought scares him, it crept up on him. You did in fact, somehow, despite his efforts to keep people at an arm’s length away, you had wiggled into the small group of people he cared about (aka the town of Mistria).

Perhaps that was what March was thinking through right now too. Balor peers at the blacksmith’s expression, but it’s too dark and he’s too far ahead to get a good read on him. He turns instead to Olric, who looks determined and mildly perplexed?

“Did you ever go this deep?” He asks curiously.

Olric shakes his head. “No, I didn't even, uh, know the Mines went this deep. We only mined copper ore on the upper floors, but uh, I thought the Mines ended at floor 20? I remember there being a sealed door or something…”

He trails off and Balor and his brother turn to stare at him with a weirded-out expression.

“What do you mean they didn’t go this deep? The elevator goes this far at the least and she’s down here.” March demands.

Olric furrows his eyebrows, “Yeah but the elevator stopped on the floor with the door, it was broken and didn’t go further..”

He pauses, opens his mouth, and closes it, and they all turn to stare down the hallway at where the elevator was hidden in the darkness.

“You mean she’s the one who fixed the elevator?! How would she know how, how would she know how to do it safely?! Did Errol and Eiland not consider this?!” March’s voice gets louder as the sentence goes on.

Olric looks stricken, and Balor shakes his head and puts a hand on the blacksmith’s shoulder.

“We can ask these questions later, for now I see some light up ahead.” He points down the hallway and indeed, there is a faint blue glow illuminating a turn in the path.

Breathing out deeply, March turns to continue down the path, and Balor and Olric follow. As they get to the bend, March pauses, and then cries out.

“Fuck!”

And starts running, disappearing from sight.

Balor goes to call after the blacksmith, but then he sees what caused the redhead to run. You’re on the ground, unmoving, and there is a puddle of slime around you, caused by a slime monster that is currently on top of your unconscious body.

March is already there, swinging with the sword, knocking the slime monster off. It lands a few feet away, near the edge of the water and gurgles out some sort of cry. From the water, two more monsters come up.

“Balor!” March calls out, but Balor is already in action, stabbing forward with his sword at one of the creatures.

He trusts that Olric will protect you and focuses on getting rid of these creatures.

One of them jumps a surprisingly large distance and he twists minimally to the side enough to dodge it and slashes down with his blade as it lands, the extra force causing it to bounce on the ground.

As it lays stunned, Balor stabs it a number of times until its slime form melts into the surrounding puddles.

He turns to see March do a well-executed wide slash that hits both remaining slime monsters, one of them melting like Balor’s, and the other bouncing near him. Repeating his bait-and-attack strategy from earlier, the creature is dead within no time.

Looking back at you, your head and shoulders are now rested on Olric’s knees, the man having kneeled down on the cavern floor, and he is digging in his backpack for something. March is already by your side, holding his hand out to your wrist.

“She’s got a heart rate.” March breathes out, his shoulders releasing some of their tension.

Olric nods, “Yeah! That’s good, but, look at her ankle.” He has taken off one of your boots.

Balor gasps as he sees the swollen ankle. It’s nearly twice the size it should be, red splotches littering the skin, though, nothing seems to be poking out that shouldn’t be at the least.

“So you’re going to stabilize the ankle before we move her?” He asks Olric, who for all his general goofiness, is competent in field (mines) first aid.

Olric nods, but March cuts in, “Why isn’t she waking up if that’s the worst of it?” His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks like a mixture of about-to-cry and pissed-beyond-hell.

Olric frowns, his mouth tugging to one side as he laces back up your boots, but tighter, so that they help stabilize your ankle. “Well, we don’t know if that’s the worst of it.”

March pauses where he’s holding your wrist. “What do you mean.”

“What Olric isn’t saying is that she could be bleeding internally, or even that she hit her head when falling, plus who knows how long that slime was leeching off of her.” Balor supplies, folding his arms and holding his chin in his hands.

Olric nods “Yeah! So that’s why we need to move her as soon as I can be sure it won’t make her worse! We were always told to be careful of head injuries and anything puncturing the lungs on the inside!”

March blanches, and immediately sets his head on your sternum, with his ear pressed against it, between your breasts. Balor’s eyes widened at the blacksmith’s actions, but he sees Olric’s lack of reaction, and considers his instincts earlier. He comes to the conclusion that he is probably missing some information and also that in this situation someone was probably going to have to listen to your breathing anyways.

“It’s raspy, and almost bubbling, is that normal?” March’s voice is level, too level, and shaking.

Olric frowns, and Balor feels that chill from earlier return and settle on his shoulders, as if someone else was watching.

No one says anything for a second. March swears.

“Fuck okay we’re going.” He doesn’t say anything else and slides his hands under your unconscious form. He lifts you bridal-style, your head flopping into the nook between his shoulder and neck.

“Ah wait Olric said we shouldn’t move her until we’re sure-” Balor starts, but March cuts him off.

“I don’t care, her breathing shouldn’t sound like that and I’m not going to wait any longer to get her to Valen.”

He heads back down the hallway to the elevator, and Balor looks at Olric, who’s already started after his brother.

“You’re good with this?”

Olric shrugs as they follow March and you. “I only know basic first aid. I can’t tell anything else wrong with her, so I’m gonna follow March here.”

They are moving faster than when they came down the hallway, and make it to the elevator in no time. Wordlessly they pile on and Olric starts it up again. The ricketyness of the elevator feels worse now, feeling that every shake makes your condition worse.

March cradles your body close to his, head leaned down close to your face. He’s murmuring something Balor can’t make out. Despite carrying you for several minutes straight, March isn’t struggling in the slightest with the weight. His legs are bent so that his muscles take the brunt of the shaking, and he’s still holding you with ease.

Despite being muscled and curved from hard labor all day, you look so small curled up in the blacksmith’s arms, and Balor feels some ugly emotion curl up in his chest. He raises a hand to push on his chest with his knuckles where he feels it.

Your presence is such an enigma. You go about your day doing your own thing, but you always stop to do small talk, and often have gifts perfect for everyone out and about. Bees for Luc, handmade Lattes for Nora, an endless supply of Tulips for Adeline despite it being summer, and, gemstones for him of course.

Balor looks at the blacksmith, and wonders what you give him.

Olric is also looking at his brother, an indescribable emotion painting his face. He raises one hand and puts it on his brother’s shoulder.

“She’ll be fine March.”

“You can’t know that, her breathing…”

Olric’s hand is unmoving.

“She’s going to be fine.”

March looks up at his brother, his eyes shining. His eyes flick briefly to meet Balor’s, and then his face flushes and he looks down and to the side.

“...okay. I trust you.”

Swallowing hard, Balor looks to Olric, who is now looking at him. The older man smiles.

“I mean it, Balor. She’s going to be fine. She’s tough and Valen is a good doctor with good medicine!”

Balor feels his own face light up with heat and now it’s his turn to be looking anywhere besides Olric’s warm and confident gaze.

“Yeah, she will.” He agrees.

The rest of the ride is silent. And after reaching the ground floor, the trio head to the Clinic swiftly and wordlessly. It’s late at night, no one is out to see them and your injured state. Balor thinks you probably would want it that way.

Considering how you didn’t tell anyone the dangers of the Mines, just took them as they came, you probably wouldn’t want them to know.

He doesn’t know how he feels about that, but, looking at the two brothers, the merchant realizes that they had at least some idea of the dangers, but were like him and left mainly out of the loop. That ugly feeling seems to root itself further into his chest. He massages the area again.

Valen is, of course, not in the clinic when they walk in. No one locks their doors at night, which Balor thinks is so painfully Mistria.

March yells out when they come in, “VALEN! WE NEED YOU, IT’S AN EMERGENCY!”

There’s a thud and a yelp from upstairs, and after a minute where the only thing Balor can hear is the sound of his elevated heart-rate, Valen appears from up the stairs, clad in a tank top and comfortable pants.

“March did you burn yoursel-Oh no.” Valen’s demeanor transforms once she sees the state of you in March’s arms, going from annoyed into Doctor Mode.

“Lay her down here please.” She instructs March, gesturing to a bed in the corner.

He seems to hesitate, unwilling to let you out of his arms, but after a moment he concedes, setting you down with an amount of tenderness that, before tonight, Balor would never expect to see from the blacksmith.

Valen immediately sets to work, bringing out tools to examine your state.

“Anything I should know about?”

Olric helpfully supplies, “She’s been unconscious for as long as we have found her, her ankle is messed up, I used her boot to try to secure it, and March said her breathing was raspy and bubbling when he listened!”

Valen pauses, “Her breathing? And in the position you found her, do you think it’s likely she hit her head?”

March nods leaning against the window, in what would be a casual pose if every line of his body wasn’t screaming with tension.

“Yes.”

Valen listens to your chest with her stethoscope. She looks up quickly at Olric and Balor feels the chill weigh heavier at the steel in her expression.

“Go get Juniper, Olric.”

Without question Olric runs out of the clinic. Valen continues examining you, carefully undoing the tight laces on the boot.

“Why Juniper?” Balor asks.

“She makes a lot of my tonics.” Is all Valen gives him, and the clinic falls back into silence.

Olric comes back, not quite slamming the door open, and an irate Juniper is right behind him.

“This better be important Valen beca-Oh my!” She stops in the middle of the room once she sees you, unconscious on the bed. She looks at Balor, then at March, and at Valen.

Her demeanor hardens. “What do you need?”

Valen nods “I’ll need some of that potion you tested last week, and a strong Restorative Syrup.”

Juniper frowns, “The syrup is fine, but the potion is barely tested.”

“If it works it’ll be the best thing we can give her, as all of her injuries are internal and I can’t fix those easily. She also has a bad concussion.”

Juniper wrinkles her nose but turns and heads out the clinic without argument, she calls out, “Olric come help me!” And off they go.

A beat of silence and March asks, “What are those going to do?”

Valen looks at him, as if she is mildly piqued they are still here, but tells him, “The Restorative Syrup will stimulate her natural healing to work faster, which is good in case there are any broken bones.”

Balor asks “Why not a full Healing Syrup then?”

“Because it works so fast it may heal the bones wrong.” Valen rebukes patiently.

Balor blanches, and feels the chill from earlier curl tighter around his spine.

“What about that other potion, Juniper didn’t seem confident about it.” March quizzes Valen.

But the doctor doesn’t look bothered by his tone, and just responds, “Juniper is just a perfectionist. The potion is fine, and it’s one that should boost our farmer’s natural healing factor. The Restorative Syrup only makes her healing work faster, what would take a week will take two hours, but this new potion will boost it, so that it will take only an hour.”

That’s…kind of incredible said out loud. Why has he not realized Juniper was sitting on a landmine of cash with those products here?

“But I still need to set the splint so that her ankle heals properly, and she’ll be quite unstable for a few days. No farming for sure, and definitely no wandering around for her. She’s going to need to stay in bed.”

Valen stops talking there, and Balor tilts his head, waiting for her to say more, before he realizes she’s looking between him and March. March looks like he’s in the same boat, his frown small and quirked to the side, eyebrows raised.

Valen raises her own eyebrow, and drawls out the question, “Well? Which one of you two boys is going to make sure she stays in bed? She has animals to feed and crops to tend, someone is going to have to do it for her.”

Balor meets March’s dark-colored eyes, and as he opens his mouth March is faster, saying,

“I’ll do it.”

“You have the forge, and orders to do.” The ugly feeling from earlier nestles next to the chill.

“Olric can handle them for a few days, and it’s not like I’ll be down there all day. You have to go to the neighboring city for a supply trip tomorrow, remember?”

Frowning, Balor realizes March is right. He does need to go get more supplies. Looking to Valen, who, if he didn’t know any better, would say has an amused smirk on her face, the merchant sighs.

“You’re right. March will watch her.” The last part was directed to the doctor, who merely “hmms” in response, focused on wrapping your foot.

The silence feels heavier somehow, March is looking at him strangely. Balor can feel the younger man’s inquisitive stare, but just continues looking at your unconscious face. You look so peaceful. Maybe he can leave some books on your doorstep so you’re not bored while you recover.

Juniper and Olric come back through into the clinic just then. The bathkeeper strides across the room and hands Valen two bottles. She has a self-satisfied expression on her face.

“These are good.”

Valen looks into her purple eyes and holds them for a second. Then nods.

“I know, thank you. I’ll pay you later for them, at a more reasonable hour.”

Juniper seems taken aback, and even though she is standing over Valen it’s like the doctor’s presence is looming over the younger woman.

“W-well, that is..you don’t need to. Just keeping our local farmer alive after all. No payment needed, the…renown is good enough.” She’s visibly flustered, and Balor can see faint traces of amusement in the doctor’s stoney expression.

“I’m going back to bed if that’s all you need?” Juniper looks back at Valen, and given a nod, does so.

The three men watch as Valen examines the tonics, then shifts you so you’re sitting upright with one of her steady hands behind your head. She first administers a purple one, and then a familiar green one down your throat.

Everyone stares at you for a few minutes.

Balor startles as Valen calmly reaches for her stethoscope and listens to your breathing once more. March’s eyes follow her every movement.

The doctor nods once, her expression smoothing out.

“She’ll be fine. Her breathing is clearing up.”

Balor breathed out heavily, feeling the ever-present chill finally fade away. Olric and March similarly look relieved, the former smiling, and the latter’s eyebrows having unfurrowed.

“Thanks doctor! That’s a relief!” Olric says, giving Valen a pat on the back.

She raises an eyebrow at him, but is also smiling. “You did a good job with the laces on the boot. Smarter than trying to do a splint.”

Olric looks bashful, “Ahh well, you know! It’s Errol’s doing with his first aid stuff he used to teach us!”

He looks at his younger brother, who’s still staring at you. Olric’s expression melts slightly, and Balor can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he then says,

“March I’m heading back first. I’ll set something out for you so you eat, okay?”

“..’kay.”

“Thanks doc, thanks Balor! Good night!” Balor blinks at being addressed, still in a daze of relief, mutters a goodbye, and Olric heads out, the door swinging shut behind him.

Valen addresses him and March at the same time as she says, “I will also be heading back to bed. If you remain in the clinic, be quiet, please.”

She turns to head back upstairs but March calls out, looking panicked at the thought of the doctor leaving, “Wait! Are you just going to leave her here? It’s only been a few minutes since the potions were administered!”

The older woman meets March’s heated expression. “She’ll be fine, March, I guarantee it.”

They stare at each other, before March nods. Valen smiles at him reassuringly, and the blacksmith blushes and looks down at you.

Valen turns and heads back up the stairs. Balor stares after her, licks his dry lips, and looks back at March. The blacksmith has already taken Valen’s place in the chair next to you, and the most tender-yet-conflicted expression Balor has seen is painted on his face.

His fist finds its way to his sternum again, Balor frowns at the feeling. The panic is over, can this feeling in his chest just go away please?

March reaches out, and pushes one of the locks of your hair off your face, curling it around your ear. Okay.

“I’m going to get going too, March.”

Balor waits for a response, and then turns to leave after a beat of silence. Just as he touches the door handle he hears behind him.

“Thanks, Balor.”

He meets March’s eyes. “For what.”

Something flickers over the blacksmith’s face, but he responds, “For getting someone, us, to help. For helping.”

Balor felt like he was more of an observer than anything this whole time, but he just accepts the thanks.

“It’s nothing March, just…gotta take care of one of my key suppliers, right?”

It sounds weak to him, and he doesn’t meet the blacksmith’s prying gaze.

“I’m heading out early in the morning, so I will be gone before she wakes. Take care of her for me, okay?”

Balor forces himself to smile and wink at March, who just stares at him with a neutral frown.

The night air is cool, and calming after the events. It’s different from the chill that had gripped him all night.

As Balor heads down to the inn, he ponders setting some Tesserae on the counter and just grabbing one of the beers to help him go to sleep.