#( say a prayer but let the good times roll | leo )

[pumpkinbxtch]

ᬊ Serenade ᬊ

— LEO VALDEZ X FEM!READER

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☆ radiostar is playing... paloma querida by josé alfredo jiménez!

warnings; language, a pinch of angst with comfort at the end. a/n; I wanted to do this one so much, I finally got to finish it, I hope you like it. The translation of the song is below each verse, as well as the vocabulary at the end.

— You know what? Go to hell!

You slammed the bedroom's door behind you, trying to shut it with a bang, but Leo managed to catch it with his hand to follow you. Although in fact, it wasn't to try to solve the things.

He let out a loud huff when he saw you grabbing your keys and your things.

— Well, actually you’re the one leaving so, why don’t you just go there and give me the address later?

The regret was immediate, but he was just as angry and ignored it. For a second, he feared for everything as you turned back to him with flared nostrils and a frown, your eyes starting to tear up.

— If that's how things are. Good, then I won’t have to come back to this dump. — You threw the keys at his face and left with a door slam that echoed in the apartment.

Within two seconds, Leo was already running down the stairs, shouting your name, but it was too late when he saw your car turning the corner, almost leaving a trail of fire on the pavement. Feeling down, he ran his hands through his curly hair and sighed.

Who started the fight? It was hard to tell, but maybe Leo's response wasn’t the best. Actually, it had been the worst of all their fights, and he saw that reflected in the way you left. You two weren’t the type of couple to fight with sharp words, so this was almost like saying he’d rather see you dead.

— I’m- uh que pendejo¹ ! —he exclaimed, throwing himself onto the couch and complaining while rolling around. How would he apologize now? This time, flowers or a card saying "Sorry for being an idiot" wouldn’t cut it, and even if it did, he knew you deserved more.

Then he had an idea, triggered by a memory from his days in that old neighborhood when his mom was still alive. He could remember that place was lively, colorful, and sometimes noisy because people like his mom and him lived there, never letting a place so far from home feel as cold and foreign as it actually was. And there was something moms and grandmas children would do for on their birthdays, big block parties, or even when there were small couple fights: a serenade seemed like the ace up the sleeve to ease the pain and give a heartfelt apology. For Leo, that was fair.

Where would he get mariachis? But that was the least of his worries. He’d done more impossible things than finding a mexican musical group in the middle of the night.

— Hephaestus, help me — he muttered -almost like a prayer- as he put on his green military jacket and grabbed the keys you had thrown at him earlier. The raccoon keychain wearing a Camp Half-Blood shirt left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Before leaving, the candle illuminating the picture of his mom on the shelf next to the TV flickered intensely, catching his attention, and he took that as a response from his dad that was something like: " I Pass, I’ve had enough with my wife," and he honestly understood what he meant. One thing was a fight, another was being cheat repeatedly.

He turned off the lights and fearlessly wandered around to find his grand musical apology.

You were curled up in your bed with a frown and some tears in your eyes. You never thought any of your fights would reach this point, even if Leo's response had been in a joking manner, fighting with him was already too much for your heart. You wondered if this was the beginning of the end, if he was really angry, or if his response was an expression of how tired he was of you.

Were you done? 'cause you had thrown the keys at his face and had no way of getting back into that place.

Your anxiety flooded your body, and a slight tremor in your lip kept asking you to finally release the tears you had held back. Would you go to bed this sad and empty? Even the mattress seemed too big without him by your side.

You turned to switch off your bedside lamp when you heard a small object bounce against your window. You turned around and nervously played with the laces of your hoodie. Was it him? You looked at the clock and could see through your blurry eyes that it was around 2 AM. No way Leo could be here at this hour, maybe it had just been the wind

You turned to reach the switch when the sound repeated, and before you could get up, two more pebbles hit the glass. At the foot of your window, before opening the curtain, you heard a whistle and some trumpets starting to play.

— Amor!

You opened your eyes wide and clumsily pulled out the curtain. What you saw through the glass left you speechless. There were mariachis, about seven of them, and Leo was there with a bouquet of roses, waving his hand at you. When you opened the window, he smiled broadly, though there was a noticeable hint of shame.

— FORGIVE ME, MI AMOR — he shouted, cupping his hand to his mouth to amplify his voice, and you, speechless, kept watching the scene. Your boyfriend turned around and gave some instructions to one of the mariachis, who nodded and started a count of three. The music began, and not only did the singer's voice echo in the street, but so did Leo's.

— Yo no sé lo que valga mi vida. Pero yo, te la vengo a entregar.

( I don’t know what my life is worth, but I’m here to give it to you!)

You smiled. You couldn’t understand much from the distance, but the way he clutched his chest with each word made you tear up.

— yo siento quererte... con todas las fuerzas que el alma me da.

(I feel I love you with all the strength my soul can give...)

Leo impatiently gestured for them to continue while he looked for a way to climb up to your window. Though the vines weren’t entirely safe, he decided to risk it.

— Paloma querida! — he shouted off-key as he walked on the roof, short of breath, and beneath your window, he stood on tiptoe to hand you the roses. You leaned on your stomach to grab the flowers wrapped in red cellophane, and without taking your eyes off him, you smelled them.

He stepped back enough for you to see each other clearly. Again, he placed his hand over his heart and with a sincere smile mouthed, "I’m sorry."

What felt like seconds were actually minutes until the song change brought both of you back to reality. You leaned out to be a bit closer to him, and he jumped up to barely kiss your lips.

— No that, dummy! — you said giggling, nodding towards the group who continued playing with smiles, seeing that the serenade had achieved its goal. — The neighbors, Leo.

Leo raised his eyebrows and pointed to the front of your house, where people in nightgowns peeked from their windows, and some kids were dancing. An elderly couple watched the scene with tender eyes. Apparently, there were no complaints, so everything seemed cool.

He bowed without taking his eyes off you, and opening his hand in the air, let the keys jingle sweetly. You smiled, and he mimicked you.

— I love you.

— Te amo más.³

❉᯽❉

¹ que pendejo: I'm an asshole!

² paloma querida: dear dove; It's the name of the song translated to eng, an expression too or a kind of petname

³ te amo más: I love you more

⁴ amor, amor mio, mi amor: love, love of mine, my love.

[ghostwriter-of-silly-things]

I'm Not Delusional, Promise

Word Count: 3,224

Warnings: none i can think of? if i've missed something let me know

I was rather tired of dealing with people by the time the campfire started, even after the solitary meal. Which wasn't that lonely given the screaming children and just... everyone being there. It was safe to say I was ready to go to bed and maybe even sleep, although my dreams of late had been getting decidedly worse, so probably not if I was being honest with myself. That and the fact that I had pretty much not slept since coming to camp, despite the occasional cat nap after training. 

  I was sitting alone on the amphitheatre steps, the other campers staying away from me. Look, the the thing with Connor was his own fault. Don't sneak up on people -- that should be, like, a rule. Even the rest of the Hermes cabin who I was rooming with were keeping their distance. To be honest it wasn't too bad -- winter was a quiet time for Camp Half-Blood, but it still felt like too much. I was so used to being... not alone, but certainly left to fend for myself, enough that the people I was around weren't too bothersome. This was too real. I mouthed silently the words to the sing-along, my body on autopilot. It ended with rowdy applause, which jolted me back to reality, and Chiron trotted up to address the campers. 

  "Very nice! And a special welcome to our new arrivals. I am Chiron, camp activities director, and I'm happy you have all arrived here alive and with most of your limbs attached. In a moment, I promise we'll get to the s'mores, but first -"

  "What about capture the flag?" somebody yelled. Grumbling broke out from the Area cabin, who were cranky, presumably that they couldn't stab people. I caught Clarisse's eye and gave her an apologetic look. She responded with a roll of her eyes directed at the Hephaestus cabin. 

  "Yes," Chiron said. "I know the Area cabin is anxious to return to the woods for our regular games."

  "And kill people!" one of them shouted. 

  "However," Chiron interjected. "until the dragon is brought under control, that won't be possible. Cabin Nine, anything to report on that?"

  He turned to where the oil-splattered and frankly char-grilled Hephaestus kids sat. Leo winked at Piper and shot her a finger gun, then saw me watching and wiggled his eyebrows before turning to the girl next to him. Nyssa spoke, and her voice was filled with uncertainty and uncomfortableness. "We're working on it."

  "How, Nyssa?" Someone demanded. 

  "Really hard," She said. 

  The air was immediately filled with sounds of whining and complaining, and the fire sputtered chaotically. This was a good start. Chiron eventually stopped waiting for the campers to quiet down and stamped his hoof on the fire pit stones, and the campers fell silent. 

  "We will have to be patient. In the meantime, we have more pressing matters to discuss."

  "Percy?" Oh for the love of the gods. Over half the campers turned and stared at me accusingly, like I'd personally caused his disappearance. I had been the only new arrival save Leo and co. and that seemed to warrant suspicions. 

  "What?" I snapped at the kids staring at me. "Why do you think I know anything?"

  Chiron sighed, catching the rest of the group's attention, then gestured to Annabeth. 

  "I didn't find Percy," she announced. Her voice seemed to catch at the back of her throat as she said it. I gulped down the feeling of sympathy that bubbled up inside me. "He wasn't at the Grand Canyon like I thought. But we're not giving up. We've got teams everywhere. Grover, Tyson, Nico, the Hunters of Artemis - everyone's out looking. We will find him. Chiron's talking about something different. A new quest."

  "It's the Great Prophecy, isn't it?" I internally groaned, and made a silent prayer to any gods that were listening that I wouldn't be part of any quest for a long while, at least until he adjusted. Unfortunately for me, it nerve usually worked out like that. 

  Everyone turned to Drew, who, as it turned out, had made the comment. 

  "Drew?" Annabeth said. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, come on." She made it seem like it should be obvious to everyone what she was on about. Because if you didn't know, you were definitely stupid. "Olympus is closed. Percy's disappeared. Hera sends you a vision and you come back with three new demigods in one day. I mean, something weird is going on. The Great Prophecy has started, right?"

  I saw Piper whisper something to Rachel, the resident Oracle, before everyone looked at her in waiting. 

  "Well?" Drew called. "You're the Oracle. Has it started or not?"

  Rachel looked more like an Oracle in the firelight. Less crazy art lady, and more serious. She stepped forward calmly despite the situation and said: "Yes. The Great Prophecy has begun." You have got to be screwing with me. I couldn't have just a moment of peace, could I? 

  The other camper had a less subtle reaction. Yelling and shouting broke out, and I was pretty sure I saw a punch or two thrown. I shrank against my seat discretely and covered my ears, to block out as much noise as I could, and closed my eyes. It didn't go unnoticed by Rachel, though, who looked at me with concern. 

  It finally subsided, and I breathed heavily for a few seconds. Noise was not my thing. 

  "For those of you who have not heard it," Rachel began. "the Great Prophecy was my first prediction. It arrived in August. It goes like this:

    'Eight half-bloods shall answer the call. 

     To storm and fire the world must fall-'"

  Jason stood up suddenly, as if struck by lightning. Even Rachel seemed off-guard. "J-Jason? What's -"

  "'Ut cum spiritu postrema sacramentum dejuremus," he said, half crazed with a wild look in his eyes. "Et hosted ornaments addent ad ianuam necem.'"

  Well that's... not normal. I knew Latin, but it was clear that most of the campers had no clue what words Jason had just spat out. 

  "You just... finished the prophecy," Rachel stammered. " -An oath to keep with a final breath / And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death. How did you -"

  "I know those lines." He put his hands to his temples, as if trying to remember something vitally important. "I don't know how, but I know that prophecy."

  "In Latin, no less. Handsome and smart." Oh do shut up. Drew's outburst was followed by obedient tittering from her cabin. The campfire still managed to look nauseous, despite it being, well, just a campfire. 

  Jason sat down, and Annabeth gave him a pat on the shoulder. Rachel looked shaken, while Chiron stood grim and silent. I thought of my prophecy, how I'd been told I'd be important to something big. I clearly wasn't getting out of this. 

  "Well," Rachel said shakily. "So, yeah, that's the Great Prophecy. We hoped it might not happen for years, but I fear it's starting now. I can't give you proof. It's just a feeling. And, like Drew said, some weird stuff is happening. The eight demigods, whoever they are, have not been gathered yet. I get the feeling some are here tonight. Some are not here." She scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on some of the campers and few seconds longer than the others. 

  "I'm here! Oh... were you calling roll?" Clovis, from Hypnos cabin, had half-woken, bleary and disoriented. 

  "Go back to sleep, Clovis," someone yelled. 

  "Anyway," the Oracle continued. "we don't know what the Great Prophecy means. We don't know what challenges the demigods with face, but since the first Great Prophecy predicted the Titan War, we can guess the second Great Prophecy we predict something at least that bad."

  "Or worse." Chiron murmured. Everyone overheard the comment. The campfire turned purple and the mood visibly darkened around it. 

  "What we do know, is that the first phase had begun. A major problem has arisen, and we need a quest to solve it. Hera, the queen of the gods, has been taken." Now that was shocking. 

  It took a while to get the attention back. 

  She explained about the incident at the Grand Canyon, the storm spirits' warning that this was only the beginning, and a great mistress that would destroy everyone. Then, Piper passing out in Hera's cabin and Jason's vision. 

  "Jason, um... Do you remember your last name?"

  He shook his head self-consciously. 

  "We'll just call you Jason then. It's clear Hera herself has issued you a quest." She paused. 

  "I agree." He nodded tersely. 

  "You must save Hera to prevent a great evil, some sort of king from rising. For reasons we don't yet understand, it must happen on the winter solstice, only four days from now."

  "That's the council day of the gods," Annabeth said. "If the gods don't already know Hera's gone, they will definitely notice her absence by then. They'll break out in fighting, accusing each other of taking her. That's what they usually do."

  "The winter solstice is also the time of greatest darkness," Chiron spoke up with this happy news. "The gods gather that day, as mortals always have, because where is strength in numbers. The solstice is a day when evil magic is strong. Ancient magic, older than the gods. It is a day when things... stir."

  He managed to make stirring sound like first-degree murder. Happy thoughts. 

  "Okay," Annabeth glared at him. "Thank you, Captain Sunshine. Whatever's going on, I agree with Rachel. Jason has been chosen to lead this quest, so -"

  Someone yelled out from the stone seats. "Why hasn't he been claimed? If he's so important -"

  "He has been claimed. Long ago. Jason, give them a demonstration." Chiron announced this gravely, looking Jason right in the eyes, which was unsettling at the best of times. 

  He stepped forward nervously, and glanced over at Piper, who mimicked flipping a coin. Jason took a virtually nondescript one out of his right pocket, and when he caught it, it was a long golden lance. 

  "Wasn't that... I thought you had a sword." Annabeth murmured shakily.

  "Um, it came up tails I think. Same coin, long-range weapon form."

  "Dude, I want one!" Someone shouted. 

  "Better than Clarisse's electric spear Lamer." Four people had to physically hold back Clarisse from laming him. 

  Jason murmured something to himself, then raised his javelin. Lightning burst from the tip of his weapon and struck the campfire with, well, a shit-ton of force. I flinched in shock and my ears rang loudly. 

  "Um, sorry."

  "A little overkill, perhaps, but you've made your point. And I believe we know who your father is." Chiron grimaced. 

  "Jupiter... I mean Zeus. Lord of the Sky."

  "Hold it! How can he be he son of Zeus? The Big Three... their pact to not have mortal kids... how could we not have known about him sooner?' Annabeth was confused, and it was clear she didn't like it. Chiron didn't answer. 

  "The important thing," Rachel interrupted, "is that Jason's here now. He has a quest to fulfill, which means he will need his own prophecy."

  She swooned rather dramatically, and was caught by two Apollo campers. She was set down on a stool, her eyes and the smoke that poured from her mouth glowing emerald. 

  "Child of lightning, beware the earth, 

   The giants' revenge the eight shall birth.   

   The forge and dove shall break the cage, 

   And death unleash through Hera's rage."

   Bloom of the lost, lover of old, 

   Aid of past penance and record unfold."

  She collapsed after issuing her prophecy, but was, again, caught. 

  "Is that normal?" Piper piped up. "I mean... does she spew green smoke a lot?"

  "Gods you're dense!" Drew sneered. "She just issued a prophecy - Jason's prophecy to save Hera! Why don't you just -"

  "Drew. Piper asked a fair question. Something about that prophecy definitely isn't normal. If breaking Hera's cage unleashes her rage and cause a bunch of death... why would we free her? It might be a trap, or - or maybe Hera will turn on her rescuers. She's never been kind to heroes." Annabeth's contempt for Hera was ever clear. 

  "I don't have much choice. Hera took my memory. I need it back. Besides, we can't just not help the queen of the heavens if she's in trouble."

  Nyssa stood. "Maybe. But you should listen to Annabeth. Hera can be vengeful. She threw her own son - our dad - down a mountain just because he was ugly."

  "Real ugly." She sure is making a meal out of this. 

  "Shut up!" Anyway, we've also got to think - why beware the earth? And what's the giants' revenge? What are we dealing with that's powerful enough to kidnap the queen of the heavens?"

  Annabeth and Chiron had a silent, angry conversation. 

  "It's Jason's quest." She announced, "so it's Jason's choice. Obviously, he's the child of lightning. According to tradition he may choose any two companions."

  Chiron shook his head slowly. "On this quest, i think, he needs three."

  "What?"

  "Just... trust my judgement, Annabeth."

  Silence followed for a second. "Well, you obviously, Annabeth. You've got the most experience." Someone called from the stands. 

  She responded simply. "No. Hera deceived me every time I tried to help her, and I leave tomorrow to find Percy."

  "It's connected." Piper blurted out. "You know that's true, don't you? This whole business, your boyfriend's disappearance - it's all connected."

  "How? If you're so smart, how?" Drew demanded. 

  "You may be right, Piper. If this is connected, I'll find out from the other end - by searching for Percy. As I said, I'm not about to rush off to rescue Hera, even if her disappearance sets the rest of the Olympians fighting again. But there's another reason I can't go. The prophecy says otherwise."

  "It says who I pick." Jason agreed. "The forge and dove shall break the cage. The forge is the symbol of Vul- Hephaestus."

  "If you have to beware the earth, you should avoid travelling overland. You'll need air transport." Nyssa said dejectedly. "The flying chariot's broken, and the pegasi, we're using them to search for Percy. But maybe Hephaestus cabin can help figure out something else to help. With Jake incapacitated, I'm senior camper. I can volunteer for the quest." 

  Leo stood. "It's me." Some mumbling waved around camp like a Mexican wave. "No, it's me. I know it is. I've got an idea for the transportation problem. Let me try. I can fix this!"

  Jason studied him for a moment. "We started this ride together, Leo. Seems only right you come along. You find us a ride, you're in."

  "Yes!"

  "It'll be dangerous. Hardship, monsters, terrible suffering. Possibly none of you will come back alive." Nyssa said gravely. 

 "Oh... I mean... Oh, cool! Suffering? I love suffering! Let's do this!" 

  Annabeth nodded. "Jason, third quest member. The dove -"

  "Oh, absolutely!" Oh my gods, does she ever shut up? "The dove is Aphrodite. Everybody knows that. I am totally yours."

  "No." In-fighting now. Why won't this ever end? 

  "Oh, please, Dumpster girl. Back off."

  "I had the vision of Hera; not you. I have to do this."

  "Anyone can have a vision. You were just at the right place at the right time. Look, fighting is all fine, I suppose. And people who build things... Well, I suppose someone has to get their hands dirty. But you need charm on your side. I can be very persuasive. I could help a lot."

  "Well... given the wording of the prophecy -"

  "No! I'm supposed to go."

  "Get over it! What can Piper do?" She looked smug as Piper offered nothing in response. "Well. I guess that settles it."

  A collective gaps echoed. Well damn. Dumpster girl has turned into a beautiful princess. Yayy. Yikers, this is messy. 

  "What?" Piper demanded. She looked, saw the dress, and yelped. "Oh, god. What's happened?" She sounded genuinely distressed at that point. 

  "Beautiful." Jason suddenly said. "Piper, you... you're a knockout."

  Drew's face was contorted in horror. "No! Not possible!"

  "This isn't me! I - don't understand."

  Chiron knelt. "Hail, Piper McLean. Child of Aphrodite, lady of doves, goddess of love."

  No one quite knew what to do in the moments that followed. Annabeth managed to break the tension. 

  "There's a fourth person, according to Chiron. So, I guess, the third line? Bloom of the lost? That's... not helpful." She spoke heavily and with uncertainty, not very Annabeth-like. 

  Jason was silent. He looked around trying to find someone who might fit that description, scrutinizing us.

  A wave of sudden dread crashed over me like a tsunami -- a general anticipation of future happenings spiked with uneasiness, a gut instinct I'd learned to listen to. Something was definitely going to go wrong. Maybe for me.

  .... 

  Probably for me. 

  The next thing I knew, assorted greenery had sprouted up around me like a movie, and I was vaguely aware of a golden sort of light shining down. I was not aware I was a Disney princess, but the more you know, I guess. 

  I cursed under my breath. Of course, I'd never been officially claimed by my mother -- Demeter, in case the plants hadn't been enough of a giveaway -- but I suppose now would be the time to do so. Right before a quest that I was clearly not in well enough shape for. For Christ's sake, Bloom of the lost? Thanks, mum. What sort of stupid cryptic nonsense do I have to be involved with this time? The lover of old bit was also very much unappreciated, a reminder I would happily do without.

  I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut in hopes it would all go away. It didn't, obviously, so I stood up, staring straight at Chiron. "It's me, isn't it." My voice shook embarrassingly and I wished I was anywhere else. The obvious nature of my recently highlighted accent was not doing much to help matters.

  "I'm afraid it rather seems so -- you had a vision earlier, didn't you," he said gravely. There were a few murmurs, but the old centaur knew a lot of things, and those things would be more than damning evidence of my potential involvement in this quest should they ever come to light, and the camp held a general respect for him that most did their best to uphold throughout the generations. He was the final decisions man, and for him, that sentence was pretty final.

  "I think you should come." Jason addressed me directly. 

  I looked up and sighed. "It's not like I really have a choice, is it?"

prev chapter • series m.list • next chapter

[whorekneecentral]

“there’s people here” and “don’t shake your leg”

i’m thinking going out for dinner with some of the team and their partners and you annoyed him before leaving the house or something and he teases you through out dinner

AGAIN IM WARMING UP BAE PLEASE TAKE THESE AND PUT THE ANJ SPIN ON IT

-🏎️

bestie i’m sooooo here for this // prompts: “there’s people here” + “don’t shake your leg”

The new training centre is set to open in a few weeks, the team decided to do a little bit of an opening dinner or a family night per se, so all of the team members and their families can get to know the new place and settle in.

You were sitting beside your boyfriend, he and Kylian were in a conversation about who knows what, but his hand rested on your thigh under the table. You shook your leg softly, bouncing it up and down a bit. 

Hakimi could feel your shake your leg, the man squeezing your thigh softly. He leans into you for a moment, “don’t shake your leg. I know what you’re doing.” 

“What am I doing?” You ask innocently, smiling at him. 

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, “stop trying to get my hand to move.” 

“Don’t be weird,” you swat his hand away when Mateo, Leo’s son comes running over to you. “Come with me!” The little boy grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the table with him. 

You and Achraf had babysit the Messi boys once or twice if their parents needed a date night and Mateo had taken a liking to you. 

It was a warm night, the dinner was taking place outside right by the pitch where the kids were running around now. Mateo said he wanted to teach you to do kick ups last time you had babysat but you were indoors and it was raining that day so now seemed like the perfect time to do it. 

Truthfully, you already knew how to do them but you let the boy show you anyways, he keeps it up 5 times before passing the ball to you. You slip off your heels, the ball by your foot when you kick it up, doing it a few times before letting the ball drop again. 

Mateo was about to tell you something but his brothers were calling him to come join them for the game they were starting with Davi so you let him go, passing the ball over to them. 

You had bent down to get your heels when someone touches your lower back, you move away before you feel the touch again. 

“Let’s go,” your boyfriend says and you roll your eyes, “don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” You tell him, the man grabs your hand and pulls you away before you can even get your heels on properly. 

Hakimi pulls you into one of the rooms in the back hallway. The door was empty, probably to be used for storage based on the shelving they had in there. 

“What do you want?” You asked, your boyfriend answers with a kiss. 

His hands are all over you, slipping down to rest on your ass and pulling you flush against him. “What’s gotten into you?” You ask him, “there’s people here.” 

“I want a baby,” he mumbles against your lips and your brows furrow. “What?” 

“You’re so good with kids, baby. Why not have one ?” 

You can’t help the giggle, “okay.” 

Hakimi pulls your shirt over your head, “we don’t have to have kids now but we can practice hm?” He chuckles, making you laugh. 

“You’re a pain in the ass,” you tell him, smiling before you kiss him. The two of you are all over each other, a mess of hands and pulls, trying to get the clothes off fast enough. 

He had you bent over the table in the room, holding your arms held behind your back with one of his hands. “You look so beautiful like this,” he tells you, his hips pressing into you with each thrust.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, he could listen to you say it over and over again.

There was no hidden meaning behind it; no scolding, no need to hurry him up - you wanted him and that was it.

“Fuck, gonna let me fill you up? Hm?” He asks, his pace as filthy as his words.

You nod, trying to move your hands. “Please,” the word barely gets out.

“Yeah?” He hums, “want me to fuck you full, don't you? I know you can take it, can’t you?”

At this point, you can’t do much except lay there and take it; not that you don’t want to because you do, you really do.

“Please, fuc-” “I know.” He hums, leaning down to kiss the back of your shoulder. “In you?” He asks, making sure you were okay with it.

“Please, yes.”

“So good for me,” his chest pressed your back, “just like that.” His hand rubs along your side, slipping under you to rest on your stomach. “Just like that.”

[everythingthemoontouches]

✨Mercury in Gatorade

🪶Pick a Card cuz we all need a cosmic timeout. To think🧠 And stuff🫀

September 27th - October 19th

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Choose a circle from this Olympics logo 💖

General message for the collective

Butterfly. Wings of change. Cruella de vils. Cruelty. Every villain has a backstory. If you walked a mile in their shoes you'd seethe at injustice too. Red riding hood and polka dots. Childlike innocence. The Before. Threads of fate are interconnected. The past, present and future are are not so hard to distinguish and separate from the other. They're enmeshed closer than you think. Cut some cords. Reflect. Review. Detach. Revise. Incorporate the horrors of the past and work your way through. We recreate that which we don't try to understand and feel.

Bad things happen when people feel unloved.

Desprate for food, attention, shelter, love.

Hate the crime, not the criminal.

Now pick a pile from the Olympic ring circle

🐾

1. Two little Witches 30 blue (volleyball)

declutter

Cry it out. Tears clean your eyes.

Old clothes need mending.

Broom. Sweep it away. Bees.

Housewarming puja. Do a cleanse or banishment ritual .

Childhood friends. Love. Here is the church and there is the steeple. We sure are cute for 2 ugly people.

No stop. No more ugly, negative, bullying thoughts about you. I won't stand for it.

Reprogram your brain. Listen to positive affirmations before bed.

Instead of calling yourself dumb, ugly, etc, or whatever horrid inner dialogue you have with yourself say soemthing positive.

Clear out the trash talking. Bad habits always need to be replaced by something new. The easiest xamooe I can't think of is someone trying to wake up early. Instead of hating on yourself for always being late, say I beliwve I will wake up at xyz time.

Say it like a prayer if you wish. I will wake up at 8 o clock. I will wake up at 8 o clock. (or whenever/whatever you need to) the law of attraction isn't a joke.

I don't believe you can randomly manifest a billion dollars in a day. But I do believe that if you repeat soemthing often enough you star to believe it and act towards it soon enough.

That's the secret to the law of attraction action and manifesting your hearts desire. Make room for belief. Make space for positive action. It starts in the mind. Declutter toxic thoughts, spaces, clean your room. Air it out. Write down your goals. Google peopep successfully at what you do. Use wiki how. Teach yourself things. Find out.

Research ways to do your thing.

Get rid of shit that doesn't help you. Throw it away if it's bringing you down.

In the movie dear zindagi, Alia's therapist tells her that if she wanted to go climb a mountain there's no need to start with the biggest one.

And there's no need to kill yourself to make a point. Start with a small, scaleable hill. Start with the smaller, Easier, doable task. Build your confidence and Build stamina.

Small changes won't cure All your problems magically, but it will make you feel marginally better and take away the stress of having a 100 problems.

But now since you have lesser things to deal with you'd have more mental bandwidth to devote to the more tricky challenges you're dealing with. Let's get going shall we? 😊💙

2.Violet Angel 23 (weight lifting)

tired

Hurt and comfort. Self soothe. Picking up the pieces.

Have you seen those Insta reels that go - Everything sucks. Just kidding. Everything is great. Or maybe it isn't. But you know what? Nothing is permanent.

You're on a roll coaster. Somtimes it's fun. Sometimes it's just scary. Life is a ride you can't avoid.

There's this story about a court jester who was asked by a King to write down something that would make Kingman happy when he was sad but would upset him if he read it when he was in a good mood. Now obviously this pompous little Leo, oops I mean, brat, I mean royalty figure(sorry leos) thought he did something really cool and outsmarted the jester. But nah. This guy surprised him by doing just as he was asked to. Do you know what he wrote down?

This too shall pass.

OK, so will your sadness. It's gonna fade into happiness soon enough. You've been through the worst of the storm. Now you get to enjoy the cool breeze and flowers that follow.

I saw this psotivity quote that went ' if you're going through hell keep going, why would you stop there' and if someone chirped that to me when I was frustrated, angry, miserable I'd probably clop them in the face like ' listen you rotten excuse for A Percy Jackson, I'm tired, also my backpack has a tonne of stones and hell is literally on fire+ my feet are burnt so don't you fuckin come at me with that witticism if you're not planning to put me in a wheelchair and wheel me through hell'

There's no magickal elevator that opens up when u pass a trial in hell. But I've heard that the Queen of Hell is also a Goddess of flowers and once a year she returns to the land of the living. That day isn't far off. You can go with her.

It's gonna get better for you.

All of the hurt, pain, sadness, heartbreak will be a thing of the past. Dry your tears, drink some rose milk and go to sleep. Happy days are coming.

Have you ever watched Titanic and wondered if Rose had managed to keep Jack afloat a few moments longer? How different their lives could have been...

It's either sink or swim untill help arrives. The Violet Angel Soemtimes shows up to indicate a new love, fried ship, loving relationship or some kind of help.

I know it's dark out and all that jazz, but when the ghpusl leave and the vampires go to sleep the sky turns pink

This dark night of the soul is coming to an end. You'll be happier than you've ever been. Just you wait and see!

3.Grumpy Red Fairy 8(cycling)

change and transformation

Get angry if anger is what you truly feel.

Are u tired of other people expecting you to live talk breathe act sing fart a certain way? Well it's no business of theirs.

Let the facade drop. Take off the social mask. (not the physical Covid safety ones).

Pretending is tiring and drains energy real quick.

In order to be truly loved we have to go through the terrifying ordeal of being known. 😬

People who are living a lie are always irked by those who don't chop away parts of themself to fit in.

Why cut your foot to squeeze into Cinderella's shoe? That glass slipper was certainly not meant for you . And while we're on the subject you wouldn't have been happy with Cinderella's Prince Charming either. There's something out there that's more right and made for you.

Why try so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?

Be you. Be real. Be authentic. And if that pisses some people off so mote it be.

No more lies.

Reblog to save this message.

4.i am Kali chabhi 13 (javelin throw)

Key in

Death. Change. Transformation.

Energy goes where attention flows.

Nursery rhyme - London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. (Break it down.) Build it up with iron bars,iron bars, iron bars my fair lady

Adapt or perish.Destruction. Demolition before rebuilding.

Those who resist change are the first to die out.

When the storm winds blow the stubborn oak topples but it's the willow that survives.

The old ways will not serve you in the new world. Cut your losses. And start over. Change your outlook. Accept changing circumstance and respond according to it.

Modern problems require modern solutions.

Goddess Kali hodls your hand as you cut cords with your resistance to change and she helps you walk through the flames into a new reality.born anew. Like Danaerys stepping into the flames and emerging as the mother of dragons.

Kali Maa is clearing all that is leeching off your energy, draining your strength, and abrading those relationships that cannot do anything but keep you stuck.

Test of strength. Rejoice in the purification of stale energy.

Sometimes things have to fall apart for better things to fall in place 💙 stay strong Pile 4, you'll survive 💪💯

5. ghosts of the past 42 (archery)

I don't have my glasses

Clear the debris. You have a chance to rehash old issues and clear them once and for all. Now is a good time to let it go.

Squinting.

Closure.

We forgive people so that we can release the pain and bitterness they left behind in our heart.

Move on from the past.

Your past shapes you but it doesn't have to define you. The present moment is always a choice. You are the author in a choose your own adventure. Some quests are scripted. But a whole lot of it is not.

When you take off your mask, you must turn around and confront others living a charade.

Where mad Men rule, it's considered out of fashion to be wise.

See, a lot of versions of us exist in other people's head but it's time to stop allowing others to write your narrative for you.

Maybe you have made some questionable or even embarrassing life choices s in thr past.so what? If you know better now, act better.

Yeah? Say if you're trying to give up a bad habit and x, y, z comes along talking about your gambling or street mugger days, you can actually say ' well actually that's not who I am anymore.' like Phoebe does IN friends. She got off the streets and made a whole new life for herself.

Make room for the person you are blossoming into. Flowers need space to grow.

Leveling up journey. You can escape poverty, your bad habits, challenges, addictions, etc. You have the power to rewrite your life story by virtue of actions and day tod at decisions. It's okay to cut off people who try to stop you from outgrowing them.

Old friends, acquaintances could be popping up in your life to remind you either of how far you've come or that there's still some work to be done in areas you that you had settled already.

It's okay be forgiving. Be greatful to yourself. Do past, present, future you a solid one and stay focused on your growth.

As long as you're learning from your mistakes, you're doing good 💕

We're only defeated when we stop trying

Abhi mujh may kahi Bali thodi so Hai zindagi - I still have a little fight left in me. 10 of swords energy. For some if you you're the first in a family line to do something great. Changing the course for someone . Showing people it's possible to improve ones situation. Inspiring them. But most of all believing in yourself enough to do the thing. And being gracious when you make mistakes along the way 🌱🌹

I'm so proud 🥺 of you, Pile 5. Keep going 👏you're doing so well

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

That's all the cards had to say folks. The rest is up to you ♥️good luck, and godspeed 💫

Please reblog if you think this could help someone 💕

If this is your first time on my blog, hi bestie!☺️you might like my

🐾Pick a Card masterlist

Astrology observations+ answers 🔥

[fbfh]

I mean, you did ask - leo x reader

all  characters are aged up to 18+ for smexy subtext

word count: 2k

pairing: leo x gn child of calliope reader

genre: adventure, romance, hints at a lowkey soulmate au

summary: after a bumpy reunion turned interrogation with your friends, you finally prove to Leo that you’re someone worth catching up with

warnings: swearing, friends hold you at knife point (for good reason) memory loss, dimesion/reality travel, the phrase “horrible sexy little goose” not about an actual animal, moderate time difference between worlds, reader is acting like a cocky piece of shit half the time, you call yourself sexy a lot, annabeth slaps reader and reader is unbothered, reader and leo hae very visceral reactions upon seeing each other, piper picks up on this, moderately aggressive face grabbing, discussing personal info with someone somewhat privately, brief mentions of hand holding and hair pulling during sex, you spill tea about the rest of the demisquad, I think that’s it pls tell me if I missed any

song rec: choke - i don’t know how but they found me

a/n: this is from a very vivid daydream I had so er ah if reader seems op coded that’s cause she is uwu

You were excited to reunite with your friends after so long, but being tied up and held hostage at knifepoint by the people you love who don’t even remember you wasn’t the welcome wagon you were hoping for. Then again, as a child of Calliope, you can’t say you’re surprised. 

Apollo has a lot of kids, but demigod children of the muses are exceptionally less common. They’re volatile, really powerful, extremely engrossed in their art, and usually care more about their latest thesis paper or painting or manuscript than going on quests, and more often than not have very specific powers. You, for example, love quests but feel like you never get to go on any, usually because you’re fighting monsters somewhere else. One fun little power you inherited from your mom is - somewhat involuntary - dimension shifting. 

A lot of times you just get summoned somewhere else, with a little inherent background knowledge and your weapon, set free into the new world like a horrible sexy little goose. There’s usually some kind of objective you need to meet; find this person, set something in motion, give someone support in a time of need, deliver a package. After that, you get sent back to your family at camp half blood. The catch, one of them at least, is that a few days Somewhere Else could be no more than a few minutes in your homeverse. 

Another catch is that because of all that, and the fact that you wouldn’t know how to begin explaining, let alone if anyone would believe you, no one knows you can do this yet. Chiron has an idea, but you’ve never told anyone outright. 

You guess now is as good of a time as any to come clean, as Percy holds his sword threateningly close to your neck. You let out a disbelieving laugh, and bite the inside of your cheek.

“Okay, okay… you want the truth?” he starts to back off, and you continue, leaning forward, “I’m not surprised you’d want to know where someone this sexy-” your words cut off as Annabeth’s hand slaps you across the face. You let out a laugh of disbelief, cheek stinging.

“A cheap shot, Annabeth? Wow, I really didn’t take you for the type,” she grabs your face, leaning in close, knife once again against your throat. 

"How do you know my name." She hisses, and behind her, the door opens. Messy dark curls peek over her head in your vision and you know instantly who it is. Your heart starts pounding, loud and hard, and something heavy starts swirling deep in your gut. Your eyes lock as soon as he enters the room and an instinctive smile blooms on your face, knowing what's inevitably on its way. 

"Hey Sparky…" 

Your voice, slow and drawling (and, he'd be lying if he didn't say kind of very sexy) impales him as soon as he enters the room. He watches your pupils expand, eyes locked, immediately swept away by your magnetic aura. A fox like grin decorates your pretty face, and he gets the feeling you know more than you let on. Way more. He's so drawn to you on a guttural level, way more than he's ever been to someone before. His face is hot, and when you slowly wink at him, he feels flames erupt on his cheeks. It takes him a second to put it out, feeling your white hot gaze on him the entire time. 

Piper, who's been helping with your interrogation, looks back and forth between you two as this progresses, taking in a breath and mumbling a shocked, "Oh," as she begins to understand. 

"How are those repairs coming?" Jason asks, oblivious to everything that's happening between you two. 

"Uh… nearly done…" Leo mutters, watching as you hold back an elated giggle at the sound of his voice. You never forget how good it feels to see him again, but the fresh feeling is always better than you can imagine. Jason glances between you two, and walks over to Leo, suspicious of your interest in him. 

"I'll walk you back," Jason says, glaring at you. Your eyes stay locked with Leo's until the door finally closes again. Piper stares at you, bewildered by the tension turned to frantic energy crackling around both you and Leo. She can sense it on him even after he's out of the room. 

Annabeth finally drops your face, pacing and pinching the bridge of her nose. Percy slams him hands down on the table and levels his face with yours. 

"I'm gonna ask you one last time. How do you know us?" 

You stare at the table for a second, still thinking about him. You have to see him again. You’ve waited for too long, you just can’t do it anymore. 

“H- okay. Um,” You blink a few times, facade falling away almost instantly as you look up in a silent prayer that this doesn’t go as badly as you feel like it will. You sigh, looking back up at the other people in the room, a new, deliberate intention in your eyes that they hadn’t seen before. 

“You want to know why I’m here?” 

Their answer is the silence that follows.

“You’re not gonna believe me.” They look around at each other, collectively thinking about everything they’ve been through in the last year alone.

“Try us.” Annabeth replies. You sigh again, and introduce yourself. “...I’m a child of Calliope, muse of epic poetry, and I know you all because we grew up together. One of the fun - quirks, I inherited from my mom is traveling into different stories, or realities, I guess. It’s hard to control, and sometimes happens involuntarily. I adapt to wherever I am, and the universe sort of auto adjusts to follow the rules that stories have to follow. 

The reason you don’t remember me is because I was gone for a really long time, and your story had to keep going. Trying to find me wouldn’t have moved the plot forward, questioning where I went would have been confusing, so it did the simplest thing and edited me out so you could get closer to meeting your objectives.”

Once again, their silence is your answer. 

“Guys, sidebar.” Annabeth says, pulling Percy, Jason, and Piper out of the room for a moment. The come back in a little while later, and she looks you dead in the eye.

“If you really know us as well as you say you do, prove it. Tell us you’d only know if we were as close as you say we were.” 

You sigh yet again, having lost count at how many times that’s happened today alone. You roll your shoulders and bob your head, irritable that you’re still restrained and itching to move. 

“Is there anything we can do before the whole tell me something really personal thing?” 

Percy looks at you, challenging.

“Can you do it or not?”

Another noise of exasperation leaves you, and you agree, resignation all over your face.

“You know what, yeah. Okay, we’re doing this. Someone go get Leo.” An involuntary smile once again launches onto your face at the mention of his name. Jason starts to object. 

“Hey, I’m not going to spill something personal about someone when they’re not in the room.” They agree reluctantly, and Jason leaves, returning again with Leo. You look at him again, enraptured by his presence. He can’t say he doesn’t like the attention - a hottie like you looking at him like that? Yes, please - but something about it feels different, and he gets the feeling there’s a lot more going on than they’re aware of. 

You nod your head once, indicating for him to come closer. He gets a little closer. You widen your eyes, nodding two more times, and he hesitantly gets within whispering distance. 

You turn your head to your left, dangerously close to his face. He can feel his pulse already speeding up. Heat radiates between your faces, your breath fanning over his neck as you whisper slowly,

“You really… really like holding hands, and when I pull your hair during sex.” 

He pulls away from you quickly, beet red, bewildered expression obvious to everyone in the room. “H-how-”

“How do you think?” You reply calmly, loving everything about him, “Okay, to be fair…” you nod once more, eyes flaring, and he leans in once again, equally hesitant and curious. Your words tickle his ear, seeming to light up his entire nervous system like a firecracker.

“I really really like when you bite that spot on my neck, just below my ear.” 

He pulls away again, trying not to literally and figuratively combust. He stares in your eyes intensely, searching for anything besides the truth. He finds absolutely nothing. He turns around, unable to look his friends in the eye. 

“They’re legit, guys.” 

“Wait, what did you say to him?” Piper asks, unsure if she wants to know the answer. 

“Yeah,” Annabeth agrees, “what if it’s some kind of mind control-” Your deep, burning desire to finally hold Leo after god knows how long is starting to beat your better judgement, and you really, really want to be untied from this stupid chair. “Annabeth! Your favorite show was Cyber Chase growing up, you used to come up with plans on how to defeat Hacker, your best was cutting off his food supply - good strategy, I’ve used it before, myself. 

Percy, you feel like you can’t sing because you were forced to participate in an elementary school recital and some kid called you tonedeaf behind your back, it kicked you right in the RSD balls. 

Piper, you’re a closet weeb, you watched Ouran High School Host club obsessively and still do sometimes, you fell for Jason because he had, quote, 'Tamaki's looks and Kyoya's brains, the ideal man'. 

Jason, that scar on your lip is from biting a stapler as a child-"

"Okay, everyone knows that-"

"-and," you continue, showing no signs of stopping, "the reason you ate the stapler is because you were pretending to be a trash compactor because you saw one on TV. 

Nico is totally not right outside the door keeping guard right now, but if he were and you asked him if he likes the diary of a wimpy kid movies he'll ask how the hell you know that - should I continue."

Again, the answers are in the silence hovering in the room. 

“I think it’s about time to catch me up on what I missed.” 

A beat passes.

“Right,” Annabeth says, blinking and readjusting her ponytail as she sits down across from you, Percy already taking the bindings off of your wrists, “so, about the quest…”

She starts to fill you in on the details you missed, bringing you up to speed. After a little while you all decide to call it a night. Piper senses your energy ramping up in spite of the exhaustion settling in. You finally bid them all good night, but Piper’s not sold by your forced yawns. After what feels like another lifetime, you finally leave the room you’ve been in for hours with one objective. 

You can’t stay away from him anymore, you have to find Leo. 

After navigating a maze of hallways and doors, you finally push open the right one to see him looking up at you, and find yourself saying for the second time tonight,

“Hey, Sparky…” 

His heart is racing, and he gets that heavy, full feeling in his chest again, not having fully shaken it from the last time you saw each other. Looking into your eyes makes him nostalgic for something he can’t quite remember, and he knows with full certainty that you have more history than he’s aware of. He wants more than anything in this moment to remember. He sets down the wrench in his hand, taking a step toward you.

“Hey…”

[achliegh]

Golden

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @punkkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 10:

Why Don’t We Just Dance

In The End

Livin’ On A Prayer

“They’re here!” Leo runs past Logan and Finn straight into his room, closing the door a bit too hard. Cringing at the door Finn turns to look at Logan who has made himself comfortable by snuggling into his side with the only blanket Leo brought. Logan looks up at him from the show they are watching. Smiling Logan puckers his lips and Finn leans down to give him a smooch. Logan smiles and just keeps looking at Finn as he looks up at the screen.

The TV wasn’t the only thing on, the radio is always, ALWAYS, on in the apartment now that Leo is here. Random country songs quietly playing from the kitchen at all hours of the day. Before Leo rushed to the door he had turned up the radio as he did his normal cleaning of the kitchen, because he can’t be still for more than ten seconds without going insane, so he has started a nightly routine of cleaning the kitchen without the boy's help. The song that came on was talking about dancing in a house instead of going out somewhere and Logan could not agree more.

Yeah Logan doesn’t live with Finn and Leo, but he stays over every other weekend, when he isn’t babysitting. The apartment still feels more like home than Dumo’s recently and it's got him feeling… too much.

After a good ten minutes of Leo making a ruckus in his room, the door flies open and those long tan legs strut out of the room. Partially covered by brand new brown leather chaps, reflecting the lights of the apartment, Leo didn’t hide anything, under the chaps that rested low on his hips was a brown silk high waisted thong that Leo feels his best in. He walks in between the boys and the TV and smiles down at them, tipping his brown rodeo hat at them and does his ‘ I know exactly what I’m doing’ smile at them.

“What do y’all think?” He turns around and looks over his shoulder at them, hands on his hips and eye half lidded. Smiling when he sees Finn turn bright red and Logan’s eyes grow huge. He’s gonna get what he wants.

Finn and Logan leave for their first away game of the season tomorrow morning and Leo just wants them… in his bed… fucking him before they leave. He doesn’t know what it’s going to be like with the apartment all to himself but, he did invite a good friend over to hang out.

Finn stands up so fast he throws Logan off the couch, causing him to yelp and get buried in their blankets.

“Come on Lo! This is no time to build a nest.” Finn is dragging Leo to the main bedroom when Leo stops him and shoves him towards his room. “Wha-”

“I have a bigger bed, cooler lights, and less mess.” Leo smiles and feels two strong arms wrap around his waist from behind, light kisses fluttering across his back. He takes off his hat and tosses it toward his dresser hoping it lands on it. Suddenly a second pair of arms wraps around his neck and pulls him into a heated kiss. Smiling into the kiss Leo lets himself be squished in between his boys.

“How do I get these off…?” Leo hears and feels mumbling on his back as the hands on his waist are messing with the belt of the chaps. He snorts a little into his kiss with Finn and moves his hands from the red-heads waist to the belt and undoes it with ease. Wiggling out from between his boys he takes the new chaps off and places them on the dresser. He turns back around to the boys and sees they have sat on his bed and are just watching him like he's their favorite movie.

“So what do you have in mind, Casanova?” That has become Logan’s favorite nickname for Leo ever since he started listening to Carrie Underwood. Leo rolls his eyes a little at the name but can’t help but smile. Walking over to Lo, letting himself be dragged forward, Logan starts kissing around his navel and slowly making his way down to kiss the front of his underwear.

“You, I just want you two.” Leo sighs as Logan keeps messing with him.

“You know I really liked what we did the first night we were down at your place.” Logan turns a little red and turns to look at Finn who is trying to remember what they did.

“When Leo and I fucked you at the same time? Baby, you have games this weekend that you need to stand properly for.”

“I’ll take Lo’s place.” Leo is messing with Logan’s curls and looking at Finn who has been rendered speechless.

“You want that?”

“I want everything with you two.” The smile Leo gives them should be illegal, sharing a look and having a mental conversation they agree.

“Whatever you want, Sunshine.”

Logan smirks and wraps his arms around Leo and flops backwards on the bed. Putting them in the position of Leo on his knees and Logan under him, face to dick. Finn catches on and stands up to get behind Leo at the edge of the bed. Feet on either side of Logan’s that are still on the ground. Finn kisses Leo’s back as he pulls his underwear off.

Logan takes Leo by surprise by pulling his thighs wider so Lo doesn’t even have to lift his head to suck Leo into his mouth. Pulling a stunned moan from Leo, Logan does everything he loves except super slow.

Finn kisses Leo's back nipping lightly at his tailbone, he pulls away to rummage through the drawer next to the bed for lube. Acquiring what he was searching for, Finn scuttles back over to the other two. He is watching Leo’s face, that has one cheek pressed into the bed and the other is facing him, as he goes to press his lubed fingers into his lover. He hits something solid. Confused, he looks where his fingers are and notices a shiny black stone looking back at him.

“Are you wearing a plug!?” Finn looks up to see the blonde nod and turn dark red. Smirking, Finn presses the jewel on the plug so it moves inside Leo and watches as the younger man squeezes his eyes shut, his eye brows pinch up and he grips the duvet. “What a great idea, Sunshine.” He holds the jewel as he starts moving the plug in and out of Leo at a torturously slow pace.

“Faster, Please!” Leo chokes out as Logan lifts his head to swallow all of him down at the same time as Finn plunging the plug back into him. They do as he wishes and start picking up the pace, soon Leo is on the edge and his thighs are shaking as he tries to hold off cumming for as long as he can, but one well aimed thrust with the plug causes his body to spasm, his eyes roll back and he is caught between pressing back on the plug or shoving his dick father in Logan’s mouth.

Without giving Leo a second to recover, Finn slides one of his lubed up fingers in next to the plug as Logan shimmies out from under Leo and between Finn's legs. Logan gets undressed and climbs on the bed sitting in front of Leo and petting his hair until he is grabbed by the larger man and yanks under him, chest to chest as again Finn picks up speed, kissing Logan sloppily and desperately. Logan is loving the attention and grips Leo’s hair tightly as he wraps his legs around his torso.

Finn slowly works in a second finger next to the plug and hears Leo whimper in a way they have never heard him whimper before. Pulling away from Logan a little, Leo pushes back onto Finn’s fingers.

“More, moremoremore. I need more.” Finn smirks and calls Logan over, after getting out of Leo’s iron grip he scrambles over to Finn. He watches as Finn pulls the plug completely from Leo and watcha shiver go up the younger man's spine.

“What are you doing?” Leo lifts himself up with his arms to look back at them but before he can look two sets of two fingers are shoved inside of him. His arms turn to jelly and he falls forward as the fingers move out of sync with each other, his toes curl from all the pleasure splashing over him in waves.

“Ready, baby?” Logan smiles as he sees a nod, he and Finn pull their fingers out and share a heated kiss before they get situated. Logan and Finn move to sit on the bed with Logan's legs over Finn’s, Leo makes his way over after regaining the feeling in his legs and straddles them, facing Finn.

“Hi.” Leo gives him a tight smile as Logan lubes up both their cocks. “You first?” Finn nods and holds Leo's hip with one hand and cups his cheek with the other as he presses Leo down on his cock. Logan presses in two fingers alongside Finn to make sure Leo is loose enough to fit them both. Logan watches as Leo starts to take control, guiding himself up and down on Finn’s cock and Logan’s fingers. Logan could never.

After a few minutes Logan decides Leo is loose enough, lining himself up he silently asks if Leo is ready by squeezing his hip. Leo looks over his shoulder at Logan and smiles nodding and leaning back for a kiss.

Leo doesn’t know how he is functioning. He feels Logan push into him and all he can do for a good two minutes is grip Finn’s shoulders and relax as his boys begin to move inside him. His head falls back as a couple of well timed thrusts cause his body to jolt without him realising it. He lifts his head and moves one of Finn’s hands around his neck pressing his fingers on the sides of his neck tightly as he starts to take control again and sets the pace. He feels Logan's grip tighten on him and the feeling of his cum inside him and he stops moving.

“Lo-”

“Keep going” His arms fully wrap around Leo’s body and hold him tightly as Leo continues, moving his hips in circles when he isn’t pushing up and letting himself sink back down. Logan cums another four times, Leo twice more and Finn once. Eventually they stop when Logan is being held up by Finn gripping his biceps and Leo can no longer lift himself up.

Finn lets go of Logan’s arms and Lo flops on his back without even trying to catch himself. Leo shakily pulls off of the boys, hearing them groan and feels them start to come again as they slip out of him, making a mess. Leo tsks and flops down beside Logan, who immediately clings to him. Pulling Leo on top of him.

Logan was topping tonight but he still slipped into subspace while all this was going on, he has specific triggers that Finn and Leo like to watch for and one of them is cuming more than three times. That puts Logan into the headspace of ‘do whatever you want to me as long as it feels good’. Leo wraps one arm around the smaller man's waist and the other arm is under Logan's shoulders so that his hand is on the back of his head and massaging his scalp to help his drop.

What Leo isn’t expecting is for Finn to grab his hips and lift them up a little so Leo is on his knees again, and for him to start licking up the mess all over Leo’s thighs. Burying his burning face in Logan's shoulder who’s babbling about how much he loves his boys and how hot they are. Leo is trying his best not to get Logan’s attention with this because he will want to go again and they have reached his limit for the night.

Leo swallows a moan as Finn moves from his thighs to his hole, licking over it slowly until he presses his lips to it and sucks, causing Leo to flinch and tighten his arms around Logan who has fallen in and out of sleep about three times. Finn continues to mess with him, shoving his tongue inside Leo and then pulling out to lightly nip at his slightly swollen hole. All while Leo is trying to be quiet so Logan doesn’t realize what is happening.

Eventually Leo can’t help but cum on Logan’s stomach as Finn goes in one last time with his tongue.

“Fuck!” Leo wakes Logan up and he narrows his eyes.

“Why wasn’t I invited! I could go again!”

“Shhh Lo, no you can’t. You’re done for the night babe.” Logan pouts but it goes away as soon as Leo starts kissing him all over his face.

Finn had gotten up at some point and began to run a bath, knowing they help Lo warm up from his drop and Leo will probably be sore in the morning and a bath will help. Leo carries Logan to the tub and climbs in with him, having the man rest his back on Leo’s chest.

Finn comes over and washes the sleepyheads’ hair after he has done his nightly routine. Getting the other two to bed was easy, but Logan and he had to be up for the bus in two hours so Finn went to make sure he and Logan had all their stuff packed and by the door before climbing into bed and setting the loudest alarm.

The alarm was loud but almost not loud enough. Leo was carrying the boy's bags down the stairs to the parking garage behind them. He was wearing his lion's sweatshirt and sweatshirt with his boots. Logan was taking Leo’s blanket because he refused to leave without it this morning, he is hiding the the hood of his sweatshirt, while Finn was whistling as chipper as ever.

Finn wouldn’t lie, he was nervous leaving Leo for the first time. Leo has become such an important little warmth in his life that having a day without him makes him feel cold inside. Like he will never be warm again. Like the first time Leo left them after their hook up. Logan warms him for sure, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t more accustomed to that warmth. He opens the back driver side door to his car for Leo to put the bags in and then waits while bouncing on his toes to kiss him goodbye.

“Okay, I think that was all you guys needed.” Leo closes the door and looks at Finn. Opening his arms Finn runs into them and holds Leo tight. Then he remembered something.

They weren’t out with Leo yet… It was only Finn and Logan.

Leo seemed to pick up on this and patted Finn’s back in a friendly way, then when they pulled away he sent him a slightly sad smile. Parking garages are a good place for paparazzi to be hiding, it's what happened with Sirius and Remus. Even if it wasn’t the pap.

Logan was already in the car, pouting, Leo walks over to his side of the car and sticks his head in the window after Finn starts the car and Logan rolls the window down.

“Bye Sweet Pea, play nice this weekend. Okay?” Logan nods and doesn’t say anything, he just looks straight ahead because if he looks at Leo he knows he will kiss him. Leo leans a little close to whisper in Logan's ear. “If you win you can have all the smooches you want.” Logan smiles a little and nods.

Leo watches them drive out of the parking garage from inside the stairwell, hands in his sleeves and his hood pulled up.

Cold.

“GOOD MORNING SLEEPY SLUG!” Clay grabs the blanket Leo curled himself up in on the couch and yanks it so he roughly rolls onto the floor.

“Clay, be nice. Morning Leo, we’ve made some breakfast for you.” Noelle holds out her hand and helps him up by stepping on his toes and pulling him up. Noelle leads Clay and Leo into the kitchen where Reg and Hagrid sit talking about the tattoos Reg wants to get today.

Leo has been talking to Hagrid about getting a special tattoo for a good few months, but once he moved away it all became more complicated. While they were traveling they drew the sketch for the tattoo with the help of Reg, who had become Hagrid’s apprentice on the road.

Reg’s music was playing over the radio, they may have converted him to liking country but alternative will always have his heart. In The End by Blackveil Brides was playing as Reg was drawing out Noelle's tattoo, which looked to be a medusa but with tentacles. Noelle loves deep sea creatures, she is studying to be a marine biologist for deep sea creatures so this tattoo makes a lot of sense.

Her first tattoo is also getting a touch up because she got her sibling Fleur-de-lis on her right wrist in pink ink because it bounces off her tan skin beautifully. But the pink fades quickly so touch ups are needed.

Hagrid sat down next to him at the counter and pats his shoulder, pulling out the sketch from his book and flattening it on the cool surface. Hagrid had set up most of his machines at the counter because he prefers to stand when tattooing.

“She’s beautiful Hagrid.'' Leo smiles at the sketch, it was based off of a picture that he received of Logan in Finn’s jersey. He was on his knees, one hand supporting him pressed into the bed in front of him and one hand crossed over his stomach under the other arm. The jersey was baggy on him and too long but it made him look even more sweet. They turned Logan in the photo, into a pinup woman that captures both features of Finn and Logan. Finn’s eyes and nose, Logan's lips and face shape, Finn’s freckles and Logan’s thick frame. She was beautiful and everything he loved about his boys.

“I know all of your tats are just black and grey… but this one means a lot to you. What if we gave her a pop of color?” Hagrid smiles his very friendly smile and slides another drawing on regular paper over to Leo. It was the pinup but with the jersey colored in the Lions colors.

It took his breath away.

“I would really like that actually, the boys don’t know I’m getting this tattoo and I think the color will really let them know that this is special, and that they are special.” Leo was tracing over the lines of her as he was speaking. The smiles creeping onto his face and the blooming excitement in his chest made him feel on top of the world.

Clay was sitting on the counter swinging his legs, waiting for Hagrid to finish shaving his neck and placing the stencil for his vampire bite that reminds him of Noelle who, as Thomas says it, will suck on his neck hard enough it feels like she is looking for blood.

Once the tattooing had started Clay put on his earphones and zoned out while Hagrid worked. Reg watched closely and was learning techniques as they watched Hagrid. The way Hagrid tattoo’s is very meaningful, every line has a meaning and it isn’t just an image on someone's skin. It's art that can last a lifetime.

Reg was next, having always been in love with the classic horror movies, he decided to get a couple iconic characters tattooed on his knuckles. Reg doesn’t have very many tattoos. Just the inner lip one he got with Clay and Leo. Clay’s saying ‘Pretty’. Reg’s saying ‘Petty’. Leo’s saying ‘Pitty’. He also has a small raven on his sternum. He hasn’t gotten used to the irritating pain of tattoo’s like Leo and Clay who are covered in them. Leo has all black and grey, while Clay has all color. Reg wanted both.

He wants to be his own person.

He’s ready to be his own person.

Next up was Noelle, she has the second largest tattoo and Reg was going to needle some of it. She didn’t mind him doing the finer details. She took her tat like a champ, never flinching or even making a face. She just chatted with everyone about what food they were going to order while Leo got his done.

Finn was sweating, Logan has not left his side since they got out of the car. Logan was wrapped in Leo’s blanket with his sweats and a sweatshirt on since today was just a traveling day. But Logan is already a walking furnace, all those extra layers made him feel like the center of the earth. Finn was messing with Logan's hair who had his face hiding in Finn’s armpit as he took up the entire bus seat by laying on his side with his face towards the backrest. Finn’s hand moved to tap a rhythm on Logan’s side as he scrolled through tiktok.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked to the seat across from them. Sirius and James were sharing a seat on this trip because Remus and Talker had ‘business’ to discuss. Sirius nodded towards Logan and raised an eyebrow.

“This is our first time leaving Leo home alone and Lo is pretty torn up about it.”

“I mean, I get it but also… Leo is a grown man who can handle himself.” James tosses a piece of candy at Logan but Finn catches it and eats it. “Not. For. You!”

“Also we only got.. Like an hour and a half of sleep last night. So that is probably adding to his sleepy-anxious time.” Finn thinks he would have turned pink from remembering the night before but he was already red from overheating.

“It’s just so quiet without him trying to make sure everyone is awake the whole time. I mean I haven’t heard one peep out of him.” Sirius stretches his arms up and grabs the top of the headrest to twist and crack his back. “It’s kinda nice, not going to lie.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone is asleep besides us and Sergei, he is trying to finish knitting us hats on this bus ride.” They all look back and wave at Sergei who sends them a short wave as he concentrates on the red yarn.

“Better get some sleep while the quiet lasts.” Sirius pulls his hat over his eyes and crosses his arms, leaning back after he puts his airpods in under his hat. James follows except he also pulls his hood over his head and ties it.

Finn tries to sleep but he is so warm it’s no use. He checks his maps and sees they still have four hours left.

This has to be the longest bus ride of his life.

She was perfect, Leo was looking at his new tattoo in the mirror through the clear film wrapped around his thigh. His short leg is pulled up and he has been just smiling like an idiot for the good twenty minutes he’s been looking in the mirror. He gives her a couple pokes and scrunches his nose a little at the sting.

“Leo! Food is here!” Noelle calls for him in the kitchen while Clay and Reg continue to argue about what pizza is the best. Wandering out into the kitchen he sees mountains of pizza boxes.

“How many did y’all order!?”

“Twenty four!” Clay leans to the side to be able to see Leo past the stack of boxes. “We needed to make sure Hagrid had some to take back to his bnb with him.”

“Here’s yours.” Reg Frisbe tosses a medium pizza box at him and he barely catches it. “Nice catch.” They stuff their mouth with the slice of veggie pizza they are holding and click on his ‘Hagrid’s Faves’ playlist so they Livin’ On a Prayer by Bon Jovi starts to play.

Clay gets on the counter to air guitar at the height of the chorus and Noelle yells at him to get down. Which he does in a second. Noelle needs the counter so she can pain everyone's nails.

Leo gets one hand Black and one hand White.

Reg gets Navy Blue.

Clay gets Hot Pink.

Hagrid gets Green.

Noelle decides to let Reg paint one hand and Leo paint the other, Leo gives her a messy polish job of Sunflower Yellow. While Reg gives her very clean Sky Blue nails with little white blots of clouds.

After they all doze off during a couple of random movies, it is suddenly the middle of the night. Leo tells them they can all stay but Reg promised to be home so Sirius doesn’t pace a path in the carpet from worry. Clay and Noelle need to go home for Tina and William. Hagrid has to leave to make sure he gets up on time.

Suddenly Leo is alone again.

Cold.

Thomas was exhausted, Remus and him talked the entire bus ride. Minus the three hours they slept… Anyway, they came up with many ways to annoy Sirius and James. Enough to where they had to write them down.

He stumbles into his hotel room, tossing his bag on the ground, flops on the bed face down into the middle of the bed, his phone is positioned weirdly in his pocket so he pulls it out and tosses it next to him.

He is just about to doze off when he hears the facetime ring coming from his phone. Knowing it's Noelle, he answers it but doesn’t move to look at the screen or show his face.

“Hey Baby, sorry you can’t see me. I’m really tired.” He waits for an answer but after a couple of seconds he gets worried and looks at the screen. He sees a blurred screen with the words ‘Poor Connection’. Frowning, he hangs up and just calls her as a normal phone call.

“Hi!” Noelle answers, sounding out of breath and panting. “I was trying to facetime you to show you something beautiful but sadly we don’t have a good connection. Sad~.” Noelle has this purr to her voice that is very… familiar. Thomas rolls over and sits up a little too fast because he about throws himself off the bed.

“I- What are you doing? You have your sexy voice on!”

“Mm I’m doing Clay.” Thomas can tell she is smirking on the other side of the phone. He tries to swallow down the cotton that has suddenly filled his mouth, his clothes were suddenly too warm. “You know what I meant right~ I’m doing Clay.” He is confused for a moment but a muffled tight moan that must have been Clay filled the silence. It clicks, Noelle was literally fucking Clay.

Noelle.

Was.

Pegging.

Clay.

“Oh shit! This is so not fair! You guys were supposed to wait for me!” Putting the phone on speaker he starts to take his clothes off as he feels himself getting hard.

“Tell me everything.”

[sylvain-writes]

Unbroken (Mikey x Reader)

Rated: T Gender Neutral Reader, pre-relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, Mikey whump, brothers not coping well with stress/fear, victim blaming, affection, love confessions, friendship/love

Mikey's been injured beyond anything his family has experienced before, leaving his brothers terrified. While Donatello, Raphael, and Leonardo struggle with their own guilt and fear, you take over your dearest friend's medical care. for @brightlotusmoon

Tension pours from the Lair into the tunnels. You move quickly. 

Something had told you to bring your delivery of medical supplies early, but what you had chocked up to a gut-feeling now feels much more likely to have been a call from the energies that connect you to Michelangelo and his Father. That psychic pull flares as you draw near and there's no longer room for doubt.

Your messenger bag slips down your arm as you increase your pace. It catches on your elbow awkwardly as you carry the heavy cooler of sundry medicine vials, but you don’t let that slow you down. There’s panic in the air - anger and fear. Casey’s and Raphael’s voices echo through the space - another call for your attention. 

Casey urges Raphael to stop raving before he says something he’s going to regret. But his pleas are ignored. 

Raphael shouts over Casey’s shoulder from the tunnel into the infirmary. He spits accusations and threats at someone unseen. 

In plain clothes, but with all the authority of a Detective, Casey gives Raphael a final warning before pushing past his raging friend and stepping up to you.  He grabs the cooler and leads you into the infirmary, thanking god for your arrival.

“Donnie will be so glad you’re here.”

You would have come sooner had someone sent word. You’re about to say as much when Casey steps out of the way and the sight of Mikey laid up on a hospital bed leaves you speechless. Frozen. Donnie gives you a frightened look before his eyes drift to his quarreling brothers, then draws the curtain to block them out.

Raphael’s bellows behind your back, shocking you out of your stupor. “Ya shoulda been there!” 

Your heart leaps, thundering against your ribs. You turn around, breath caught in your throat wondering how on earth you could have prevented such a thing. But Raphael is rounding on Leo, not you, shoving his older brother square in the chest as he brings his face too close. 

“Ya shouldn’ta sent him away!"

Tension ripples up Raph's arms from his fists to his shoulders as he crowds Leo into a corner. "This is on you, Leo. If he don’t wake up- If he don’t... “ 

When words fail him, Raphael launches himself at his brother with a growl. 

Casey’s face twists into horror as Leo, outwardly stoic and calm, takes his brother on. 

In a quick series of grabs, Leo has Raphael twisted and pinned against the wall in seconds. Leo eyes him with a look of impatience and disappointment. “Walk it off, Raph.”

“Try’na get rid of me too, huh?” With his face pressed against the cement, Raphael grinds out his words through clenched teeth. 

Leo turns to Casey, as if he doesn’t have time for such an inconvenience as this. “Get him out of here. He’s making Don nervous." His grip on Raph lets up as he turns to face the curtain once more. "We’ve been hurt before. We heal. Everything is going to be fine.”

You've only caught a glimpse of Mikey's condition. But you've never seen Donatello so scared. You wonder who Leo is trying to convince.

Raphael seethes as Casey takes him by the arm, but he isn't forced out of the room. "Ain't been this bad. Never this fuckin' bad."  Raph's voice is hoarse from shouting and crying, but his words don’t seem directed at Leo anymore. As his disbelief turns from swears to prayers, you think you hear him making deals with god and the devil.

“Swear to god, bro,” Raph says, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, “if you don’t wake up, man…” With his elbows on his knees, Raphael buries his face in his hands. 

Casey lays a hand on his friend's shoulder before the radio at his belt urges him topside. "I'm sorry," he says to the room. "I gotta..."

Raphael's head hangs lower, but he nods. 

Leo stands stoic - arms resting at his sides, ignoring Casey's words of departure, watching the drawn curtain. Blinking but not seeing. His breath is even enough for him to be attempting some form of meditation, and you think that’s for the best. But you wonder how long the quiet will last.

Casey tips his head toward the hospital bed. A small jerky movement that grabs your attention. You look at him, head spinning. “You gonna be OK with this?”

You glance over your shoulder to where the curtain hides Donnie and Mikey from view.  Slowly, you nod. Even before med school you were proficient at compartmentalizing. You can help Mikey without becoming overwhelmed by seeing your best friend in whatever condition he’s in. You just need to get in there, see what you’re working with.

“I’ll be alright,” you tell Casey and remind yourself.

You wave him off, draw back the curtain, and take a fortifying breath. 

At the head of the hospital bed, Donnie moves as if on autopilot. He's set a PICC line just under Mikey's shoulder and is starting a transfusion. He's talking himself through the steps, laying out his plans for what to do next. Even as you approach, he remains completely focused on his tasks.

His hands shake as he lifts a fresh bag of fluids to the IV stand. Careful as he tries to be, the bag slips from the hook and lands with a wet slap on the floor. 

You crouch down to help and lay a hand on his arm as he apologizes for this little hiccup in Mikey's care. 

Unshed tears cloud his vision.  He looks almost as pale as his brother lying on the bed. It's obvious he's doing the best he can, and you couldn't ask for more.

Donnie watches you easily hang the bag and open the line. He holds his breath as you properly take in the scene. “He shouldn’t have been out there alone,” he says quietly. It sounds like another apology.

From the edge of the curtained area, Leo parrots the same words. The way he says them, however, sounds like an accusation. 

“He knows better,” Leo continues, coming closer to Mikey's bedside. The more Leo speaks, the more life returns to his eyes. Fire heats Leo’s words. You suppose anger is easier to feel than fear. “What was he thinking?” 

From the floor, Raphael chokes on a sob. “You knew better. The fuck were you thinkin’, huh?” 

Leo widens his stance and rolls his shoulders back, ignoring his younger brother's latest outburst.

The monitor at Mikey’s bedside beeps, Mikey starts to convulse, and it’s easy to tune out everything else.

You and Leo struggle to hold Mikey still as Donnie checks the equipment.

Donnie adjusts the speed of the morphine drip, scanning Mikey's body and the monitor displays. His mouth is set in a hard line. His jaw ticks with how hard he's clenching his teeth to keep his lip from trembling. 

He wipes his eyes on the back of his wrist and pretends he's not close to tears seeing his only little brother injured beyond what any of them have ever faced. 

Even as their eldest brother works to restrain Mikey from further aggravating his injuries, Leo asks if it's really a good idea to increase the narcotics. "We don't want him dependent on that stuff." 

It was the last straw for Donatello. His resolve falters. He faces Leo with color high on his cheeks and opens his mouth to argue. But he sputters and fails to string together an explanation fit for Leo’s approval. Too much of his energy has been depleted by Mikey's care for Donnie to dumb down his course of treatment into terms Leo can understand. 

You place a hand on Donnie's shoulder and offer him a knowing look. 

"One thing at a time," you tell Leo with the calm authority of your medical expertise. "We get Mikey through this, first. We'll titrate him off the meds when he no longer needs them." 

Exhausted and exasperated, Donnie ducks his head and steps aside to let you take over. He watches you assess the work he's done. He holds his breath as you review the scans and x-rays he provides. 

There’s nothing for him to be ashamed of. His stitches are hasty, but they'll hold. The broken bones have been set properly. 

There's a pain in your chest as your brain switches the images in front of you from patient to Mikey to patient again. You know that unbiased detachment will serve you best in your decision making tonight, but the crease between your eyebrows twitches as you spend a second too long watching Mikey's eyelids flutter, hoping for them to open.

Mikey is barely conscious, groaning with every squirming movement but seemingly unable to keep still. 

The file Donnie's prepared lists a concussion on top of deep tissue bruising, stab wounds, broken bones, a dislocated knee, and a cracked plastron. Mikey's head is wrapped. Thick gauze pads the left side of his skull and dark bruises color his swollen face. With each injury your interest in the case, in the patient before you, grows more clinical. 

You mutter, more to yourself than to Donnie or anyone else, your review of what's been done and what still needs doing. Donatello nods along, keeping up and eager to learn even in the midst of the crisis. Perhaps especially due to the nature of this one. 

And after a few more minutes of tweaking the medications, your dear patient eases more deeply into sedation. 

You smooth your hand over the gauze above Mikey’s ear and allow yourself a breath of relief. His glassy eyes blink up at you, unfocused until you run the back of your fingers down the side of his face. 

Memories of all the times he’s called you ‘Angel’, the times it felt less like a place holder for ‘Dude’ and more like a pet name chosen specifically for you, poke and prod the edges of your mind until one memory rushes through.

You and Mikey sitting on the rooftops together. His feet dangling over the edge of the building, kicking out a rhythm as he percusses with his hands upon his thighs. You rocking forward and back as he listens with rapt attention to you talking about Med school: your residency, your hopes and dreams for advancing the field of neurobiology, and the sundry inbetween stuff that never feels like tangents when you're speaking with him. 

You’re lost in the memory of the night, of you and Mikey and endless possibilities, when Donatello gives your shoulder three taps and pulls you back to the present.

The hairs on your arms rise when Master Splinter arrives to check on Mikey's progress. You wish you could say it was his raw psionic power that gives you chills, or his virtuous presence that tears your attention from your patient. There's no compassion or concern flowing from him right now. And it's neither respect nor admiration you feel for him in this moment. 

Though Splinter approaches the bed, his energies remain rather distant. Cool. Complacent. He reaches out to Mikey through their psychic bond and nods in approval. "He will learn from this,” Sprinter says, voice a low, monotonous hum. “Grow stronger." He turns from his youngest with a clipped, "Humph," and moves to the corner of the room without offering a word of comfort to any of his sons. He sits to meditate, unperturbed by the scene.

As if taking a cue from their father's indifference, Leo and Raphael start up their squabble again. 

It's too loud. Too much. Reading Splinter's energy and watching Mikey's shrink from it like a kitten being scolded for mistaking wicker furniture for their scratch post tests your nerve, grates on your mind, and burrows under your skin. 

A year into your residency, and twice as long helping the Hamatos, you think you'd be able to handle anything. But you begin to get shaky. How Donatello worked so long with his brothers looking over his shoulder and arguing behind his back, you'll never know. 

Every now and then Splinter comments on the strength of Mikey's chi. He seems oblivious to the fact that his son was literally writhing in pain on this hospital bed moments ago. The harder Splinter insists on Mikey’s resilience and tenacity, the more you feel Mikey pulling in on himself, frightened to show his Father the truth of his condition. Protecting his family from his frailty and pain even as he lay nearly unconscious.

Meanwhile, Leonardo insists that this all could have been avoided if Mikey would have exercised some patience and common sense by not going up to the surface alone. 

“Where were you, anyway, Raph?" The unending feud cycles around and around. "You’re supposed to look out for him.”

When Leo starts apologizing on behalf of Raph's and Donnie's negligence, you think his younger brothers are going to snap. You make the call to get them all out, so you can focus on Mikey without worrying about playing referee.

Leo catches Splinter on the way out, making plans to meditate together through the night.

Before Donatello leaves, he pops by for a goodnight. “Get well quick, little bro,” he pleads, squeezing his arm and dropping a kiss upon the crown of his brother’s head.

Raphael does similarly, adding that they’re bedroom won't be the same tonight. Without Mikey's headphones hanging off the side of the bed, still playing music while his snores somehow ride the beat of each song, Raph won't get a wink of sleep. “Won’t sleep til you’re there buggin’ me again.”

Mikey responds with quiet murmurs that his brothers all but ignore. They're more accustomed to and comfortable with hearing their own voices than listening to their brother's pain.

With the room clear, it’s easier to hear Mikey’s mutterings for what they are. Though speaking through a fog of pain and anaesthetic, he’s not incoherent. 

Your heart sinks to realize he understands what's happening to him, that he’s likely heard everything that’s been said in the room. The shouting, the crying. The selfish demands on his suffering body. The detached sureness of his Father. 

So confident that all will be fine, Splinter hadn’t even laid a hand on Mikey or spared a shred of empathy before he had gone. 

You pay close attention to Mikey’s words, letting them inform your care. 

Mikey’s eyes peek through heavy lids, trying to follow you around the room. But when you’re at his side again, and your hand strokes his face, his eyes close.  He leans into your palm despite his bruised and fractured jaw. 

For a few minutes you remain just like this - cradling his face in your hands, watching him drift in the haze of sedation, feeling his energies ebb and flow from their hiding place in their search for the safety he’s always found with you.

“I’m here,” you assure him gently. “It’s only me.”

Your promise is enough for his energies to move free. 

Hushed sounds and quiet clicks of your tongue fill the space between you as you put Mikey’s mind at ease. Your fingers pitter-patter over his cheek bones and down the sides of his neck as you palpate for further injuries. They pass over his clavicle and shoulders as Mikey stutters a breath.  

A sling traps his arm against his chest, where his fingers tap the scute over his heart. It’s a small movement, perhaps one of the only movements he can safely make in his condition, and even then, it must be a challenge. For someone you’ve only seen lying this still during his most depressive episodes, you think being incapacitated thusly must be torture.

His bandaged hand is heavy as you lift it. His fingers are cool under the press of your lips. They curl reflexively around yours and you kiss his hand again. 

“My best days are the ones I spend with you,” you whisper. It hurts to be burdening him with such a thing right now, but you also think it’s a truth he should hear sooner rather than later. 

Mikey’s chest rises and falls with staggered, labored breaths as you pet his chest. You talk and Mikey lets your voice wash over him. He leans his head back, relaxed and floaty, feeling like he's in a dream. And as he has so many times before, in dreams, Mikey tells you he loves you.

You bite your lips together as tears fill your eyes. For the first time tonight you think they’ll truly spill over. “Love you, too,” you say, and it doesn’t matter to you whether he means it romantically or as friends because the relationship you share and the love you’ve fostered for each other doesn’t need labels or constraints. 

When Mikey seems to be falling asleep you try to give him some space, but he doesn’t want you gone. His mind is quieter when you’re at his side. 

You rub his leg as you stand by his bed. Though your back is aching and your feet protest the constant bustle, you still haven’t been able to sit. 

“Tell me if you need anything,” you say in earnest. 

Despite your efforts to keep Mikey hydrated, his words are but a croak. “Just you.”

“Hm?” 

“You here. Could you-” Mikey’s eyes close and his hand turns palm up on the bed. Though he can’t muster the strength to lift his arm, his fingers curl and release inviting you back. You slide your hand into his and give it a light squeeze. 

“Stay,” he whispers weakly.

Sleepy, and still in pain despite the heavy opiate cocktail you and Donatello created for him, Mikey gives a weak tug on your hand and whimpers, begging you to understand what he needs.

You climb up, thankful for the extra wide bed, and rest against his wrapped plastron carefully. He buries his face into the top of your head. He nuzzles the hand you’ve raised to cup his cheek. The soft, sleepy sounds he makes drift in and out, sometimes words and sometimes just a hum. 

“...M no good,” Mikey mumbles into your hair, and you feel his breath hitch. “Not good enough.”

“Oh… no, baby,” you say, bracing yourself on the mattress and pushing up to look him in the eye. You stroke the lines of his brow ridge above his eyes, left and right, until his eyes flutter open. They shine with tears threatening to fall. “You’re always enough. Always been enough.”

He gives the slightest turn of his head, but his eyes stay locked on yours as if desperate to believe your words. His lip trembles. His tears slide down his cheeks.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart.” You continue to pet his face, but you let his tears fall freely, letting him know it’s alright to cry.

“For you?” Mikey asks, bordering on inaudible. But you hear him. The question rises from the depths of his being, calling out to you, and you answer the call with the truth of your soul.

“Always. Perfect for me. Forever perfect for me.”

[arse-crack-thistle]

a firstprince meet-cute

the heroes of olympus au

in which the roman son of apollo meets the greek son of themis

Henry—the quiet son of Apollo and Centurion of the 3rd cohort—leads a team of five demigods through the Long Island woods. Their task: spy on the Greeks and bring information back to Octavian. The golden-haired boy wishes he could’ve refused, but anyone who goes against the Pontifex Maximus gets severely punished and he will not let any harm come to his legionaries. Not again.

The group weaves through the trees, dodging the sight of any patrols. Henry has no idea how he’ll get close enough to hear anything, but he might be able to interpret some battle strategy from the Greek’s night preparations. As his fellow soldiers fan out beside him, Henry inches up the hill. He’d say a prayer to his father if he thought it would help, but he doesn’t. After many unanswered prayers about his sexuality, about his rather fucked up influential family, he doesn’t bother with Apollo anymore.

Henry gestures for his right-hand man—Pez, son of Mercury and the only one who actually knows he’s gay—to peer over the hill with him; the others stay back, keeping watch. The Centurion readies an arrow just in case, while Pez has his hand on the hilt of his blade, and they watch Greek demigods reinforce their buildings, sharpen their weapons, and prepare medical tents. None of them are practicing formations, which doesn’t help Henry or Octavian at all. He has to come back with something, so he puts the arrow away and crawls forward.

This could be really stupid, but he has to try—not for Octavian but for New Rome. It’s the only place that’s felt like home to him. Back in England, there’s his grandmother, the CEO of an underwhelming home goods empire. The stuff is cheap, but they’re still the number one seller back home. His mother and brother have a part in it. His sister ran off a few years back, and he has no idea where she is or if she’s even alive. His father—or rather ex-step-father—hasn’t wanted much to do with him since about three years ago when he found out Henry’s mother had an affair at a music festival fourteen years before.

They had a scandalous divorce, covered by every major news outlet, and Henry found out his true identity when a handsome demigod knocked on his door and told him he was in danger and had to be take to California. Several monsters, a few thousand miles, and a few months with a wolf goddess later, he found himself at Camp Jupiter. Everything that happened to him up until then—the blurry images of creatures at the corner of his eyes every time he turned a corner, the dyslexia that made his passion for writing frustrating, the way he never really fit in with his family—finally made sense. He was a demigod! And when the sign of Apollo appeared over his head after he made his first bullseye at the archery range, he truly felt like he found where he belonged.

Pez whispers for him to come back, but Henry lifts a hand in warning. Just then, someone—a dryad probably—screams an alert to his enemy, and all Underworld breaks loose. His legionaries get in formation behind him, readying themselves for the Greeks. They were taught never to run from a fight, but Henry can’t allow this to happen. He’s been in enough battles to know when he can win and when he can’t. Eventually, they’ll be outnumbered because Octavian won’t send him reinforcements if he can help it. He doesn’t know how violent the Greeks will be, but if they willingly fired on New Rome when their defenses were down, then he can’t take the risk. And he won’t repeat what happened in the Titan war.

Henry orders his soldiers back, telling Pez to take temporary control of the cohort and share the minimal information they gathered with the Pontifex. If they’re to be any casualties tonight, it will only be Henry and the Greeks he can take down with him.

•••

The last thing Alex—the wise-ass son of Themis—wants to do in the middle of the night is go to a counsel meeting at the Big House. He wipes the sleep from his eyes as he walks up the creaky steps. Inside, Chiron and the other counsellors gather around a table. It’s times like this he wishes it was a year ago when the children of minor gods were left out of meetings and decision-making. But as soon as he slaps himself awake, he regains his undying need to get involved and raise hell—fair and just hell, of course.

He sits down next to Nora, the temporary head counsellor of the Athena cabin. She’s bouncing in her seat—no doubt high on caffeine and nectar and ready to get back to developing war strategy. She gives him a wink and taps her fingers like she’s back home typing on a computer. Chiron clears his throat and tells the demigods of a Roman scout team that was spotted an hour ago. Unfortunately, most of the soldiers got away, but they did manage to capture one. He’s being held in one of the Big House’s guest rooms.

Now it’s Alex’s turn to bounce. He’s been waiting for an opportunity like this. A prisoner of war means they’ll need to get information. There will need to be a lawyer present—or a lawyer in training that is. He can preside over the questioning, be the voice of justice, and maybe even get the Roman to see the right side is his. He can picture it now: Camp Half-Blood safe from the Romans and that dude reformed in his ways, joining them to stop Gaia. Yes, this is his chance to step out of his sister’s shadow.

He volunteers to mediate for whoever is charged with the interview. Alex ignores Chiron’s obvious hesitation; just because he can get a little heated—thank gods Leo isn’t here cracking a dumb pun joke at that, which would inevitably leave them both laughing on the floor—doesn’t mean he can’t be objective. So he hates the Romans’ guts and thinks they should go back to their stuck-up little camp, so what? Once he’s in the real world, going to college, running for congress like his father, he’ll have to deal with a shit-ton of people he doesn’t like. Looking at you, Bitch McConnell.

Just as Chiron decides he, Nora, Will Solace, and reluctantly Alex will talk to the Roman boy, a camper from the Aphrodite cabin bursts through the door and tells him one of the Hephaestus girls accidentally blew up a boy from the Ares cabin. Apparently, armor strapped with projectile explosives wasn’t the best idea. So Chiron declares they will talk to their guest in the morning, and in the meantime, they’ll take shifts in pairs guarding him. Alex raises his hand to get the first watch, but Chiron appoints Drew Tanaka and Connor Stoll. They both roll their eyes at the idea of being stuck together for the next few hours. Alex’s chest deflates.

Ever since his sister left—he and June are some of the rare demigods that have the same mortal and immortal parentage without being twins—the responsibility of the Themis cabin has fallen on his shoulders. He wanted it, of course, but his siblings also elected him to the head counsellor position, thinking he’d follow in June’s footsteps: ruling with truth, justice, and wisdom. Just like their mother.

Back in his cabin, Alex stares at the marble statue of her that presides over her children. Her iconic image—blindfolded, holding a sword in one hand and balancing a scale in the other—reminds him he’s definitely no June.

She was a leader of quests; Alex has never been on one. June was the voice of reason at counsel meetings; he struggles just to sit still, let alone calm a room with one enlightening sentence. When the children of minor gods were finally given their own cabins, there was no question who should run theirs. Now, he hears his siblings whisper whether they should hold another election. Gods, you call out your conservative brothers one time—it was way more than once—and suddenly, you’re imposing your opinion on everyone.

That’s not it though. Alex has never been given a chance to step up. No matter how many times he tries to convince the counsel they should establish a court system at camp—nothing settles an argument like a nice, fair trial—he always gets shot down.

Not anymore. He’s not going to sit back this time. Not when the threat to camp is this great. He’ll get what he needs from that Roman. If June were here, she would’ve been trusted to go ahead without Chiron, so Alex will do the same.

•••

Henry wakes up to angry whispers outside of his door. The twelve Greeks overtook him easily, but he did put up a good fight. At least, he did until he was knocked unconscious. On the table beside his bed, a note sits atop a plate of food.

Eat well. Hydrate. Rest. We’ll speak with you soon. -Chiron

A glass of juice spiked with nectar sits next to the plate. Why would those imbecilic Greeks give him what’s essentially strengthening serum? He intakes his surroundings: a bed, a table, a dresser, and a chair. Window to the left. Only door out to the right. There’s a clean set of clothes at the end of the bed, but Henry would rather go to Tartarus and back than put on another camp’s shirt.

He jimmies the window, but it’s locked and to hard to break. He lightly tries the doorknob, but it’s locked as well. By the sounds of it, three maybe four people argue outside his door. Romans never had this much trouble changing guard shifts. Henry fiddles about the room, looking for anything to 1. unlock the door and 2. use as a weapon. He can handle four Greeks, and he’ll do everything in his power to get back to his cohort.

Henry hears the click of the door unlocking. Gods, they’re thick, aren’t they? He grabs the wooden chair, and as the door swings open, he thwacks the person walking in with it. Just as he suspected, the chair breaks, and he uses one piece to press against the throat of the careless demigod he’s pinned to the floor.

The boy beneath him groans. He’s got light brown skin and dark curly hair, and if Henry weren’t about to kill him, he’d think he was quite cute.

“Gods, can you Greeks do anything with finesse? Even your hero, Percy Jackson, as talented as he may be, flies by the seed of his trousers.” Henry grits his teeth.

“Ha!” the boy coughs out. “Jumping to conclusions, are we? I thought you guys were supposed to be strictly trained soldiers. You miscalculated.”

He points behind him, and when Henry looks up, a girl stands battle-ready with a sword in her hand. The distraction is enough for the boy below to wrap his legs around Henry and flip them. The Greek holds a dagger to his neck.

“Listen here, pretty boy, are we going to talk or am I going to go all American Revolution on your British-ass?” He presses the dagger, and Henry yelps.

The boy’s brown eyes peer into Henry’s, and some strange part of him likes it. The Greek looks about his age and, while clearly not as capable as he, definitely has some fight in him.

“I’d like to see you try, graecus. But be forewarned, if you send me to the Underworld, I’ll drag you and your camp down with me.” He keeps his face plain and uncaring, though he can feel the heat in his cheeks. Apollo help him.

The girl interrupts them to remind her partner what they’re here to do. She sheaths her sword and closes the door.

He’s called Alex. Henry swallows. And they need information.

Alex releases him. The two get up off the ground. No one moves to sit or get more comfortable. The boys just stare at each other, long and cold.

Henry can tell this guy is a complete and total arse, and yet he can’t shake the swirling feeling in his stomach. A memory from a quest eighteen months ago flashes in his mind. In Vegas, a priest of Venus dressed like Elvis told him great tragedy would befall his love life, but with the goddess’s blessing, he’d find happiness again.

He already lost someone. The demigod who found him, Daniel, son of Ceres, his sponsor when he joined the camp, his Centurion. Everything was quiet between them—few words needed for mutual understanding. Daniel brought him fresh lavender; Henry played him a tune on the lute. But then the Titan war came. And Daniel disobeyed the Praetors’ orders to save the boy he loved. Henry barely had time to grieve before he took control of the 3rd cohort and lost four other demigods in the process. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t think of the five who died because of him. Because of love.

No. This feeling he has is the desire to beat the Greeks, nothing more. He doesn’t give a damn about happiness in love or this obnoxiously hot demigod before him. Like even as Alex breaks eye contact first, puts his sheathed dagger in his boot, ruffles his hair, puts his hands on his hips, and sighs, Henry feels nothing. Elvis can go fuck himself.

“So,” Alex says, “what do you have planned, and how can we convince you to stop? We’d really like to prevent another demigod civil war.”

Henry laughs, and even though nothing would make him happier than to stop fighting, to rest as Chiron suggested, he tells Alex, “You’re really a dickhead if you think I’m giving you anything.”

•••

“It was an accident!”

“You expect me to believe with our two camps in a centuries-long feud that the one time we let down our defenses, your lot just attacked us on accident? Right, and I suppose Pluto is actually a sweet guy once you get to know him, too?”

“My buddy Leo was being controlled by Gaia!”

“Your mate Leo should come up with a better lie.”

“You’re impossible!” Gods, Alex really hates this guy. “Nora, can’t we just—”

She shakes her head before he can finish. He’s not really sure what he was going to say. Have Drew come back and charmspeak him? Feed him to the harpies? Pin him down again? Wait—what?

“Listen, dude. We’re really on the same side here. Right now, both Greeks and Romans demigods—our friends—are fighting against a greater threat than the world has seen since the beginning of time. That’s got to count for something,” he says.

The Roman is quiet. Alex hates how he looks like a goddamn prince even after a fight. But maybe he got through to him. After all, it is true. For all the shit he talks about Romans, he knows they’re not bad, just different. They actually have more in common than they’d like to acknowledge. Jason Grace taught him that. If there was ever a Roman WASP he could get behind, it’s Jason.

So Alex tries a different approach. He gestures to the bed. “You want to?” The blond boy stiffens, and Alex clarifies, “Sit?”

“How about we start over?” He sits. Nora takes the opportunity to march to the other side and bellyflops onto the bed. “I’m Alex, son of Themis, the goddess of justice. And you are?”

He watches the Roman look from the undefended door to Alex and back again.

“You could run,” Alex says. “But then we’d have no chance to broker peace. Hera thought she could do it by trading heroes, but I think you and I both know it takes more than one person to heal two armies.”

Power swells in his chest. Alex can’t know for sure, but maybe his mother is looking out for him. This is how he can bring the demigods justice for Gaia’s destruction. June would be the better choice, but Alex is here and he has to try.

“Let’s work together. Or at least, get along long enough for the prophesized seven to come back home,” he says.

The Roman hesitates. Alex can see in his light blue eyes the number of strategies racing through his mind. But ultimately, he decides to sit. Nora snores next to them. Five a.m. and a caffeine/nectar crash will do that to you.

“So your name?” Alex asks. “It’s only fair.” Dumb pun but he winks.

The boy coughs, but then he looks into Alex’s eyes. “I’m—er—Henry, son of Apollo, Centurion of the 3rd cohort.”

so this is a little late but we’re just going to ignore that...

i just finished reading toa a couple of weeks ago, and i can’t stop thinking about it!! so when i saw the meet-cute prompt, i couldn’t resist a percy jackson-ish fic! i hope you enjoyed this little short piece. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

[theartofimaginaryfriends]

Hey I'm the person that request that Apollo caught reader and Percy kissing. Could you do a sort of part 2 of that where she gets injured on the quest and Apollo/Lester has to tell. She's in critical condition and might not make it and Percy's a wreck. Apollo can only think of hyacinth. But happy ending where she makes it. I always feel awkward requesting 2 times on a blog like I'm bothering them. So if I'm bothering you I'm sorry.

Come Back to Me Part 2

Premise: Y/N got fatally wounded when the Waystation went under attack. When Percy found out, he refused to leave her side. Apollo can't help but think about his lover, Hyacinth. 

Masterlist

A/N: This was going to be completely written yesterday, but I tend to write in the evenings and it was 1AM so I went to bed because I forgot I had a meeting this morning XD Also!! You are never bothering me sending in requests! If you have any other requests or just want to send in an ask feel free to do so and I will be more than happy to write it/respond to you! This fic is something I’m particularly fond of because I love Apollo’s character development in TOA, and it was fun to play with. There’s a bit more focus on Apollo than there is Percy, but I still really love it. Hope you do, too :D For context in this: Y/F/F = Your Favourite Food

The guilt Apollo felt worsened as he approached the apartment complex for the second time this year. This time around, however, he wouldn't find his daughter sprawled out on the Jackson's couch bored out of her mind from all the studying. He knew where she was, and he was afraid to break the news to Percy.  

His hand hovered over the buzzer, and he took a deep breath. His companion on this trip – Thalia Grace – nudged him to remind him why he came back. He mentally prepared himself for what was going to come his way before pressing the button, and the same female voice greeted him like last time. "Hello?" 

"Um, hi," the former God cleared his throat. "It's Apollo. I hate to stop by, but I have news that  Percy's going to want to hear."  

"Oh, I'll buzz you in," Sally's voice sounded as scared as Apollo felt. Percy's mother adored Y/N, and it comforted him to know she was being well taken care of. Especially because he couldn't.  

He reluctantly knocked on the door, and this time was greeted by the teenager looking worried and exhausted, rather than annoyed at his arrival. "What the hell happened- oh hey, Thalia." 

"Hey, Percy," the huntress gave her friend a sad smile. "It's about Y/N, can we come in?" 

Percy nodded and stepped aside. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife, only increasing Apollo's nerves. He really hated mortal emotions, still not seeing the benefit to them. They never seemed to be helpful in any situation, but he couldn't control how he felt. Especially when the topic happened to be someone he cared about. 

Sally, Percy, and his stepfather Paul led them to the small living room to chat. The son of Poseidon had an intense look in his eyes, filled with concern and resentment. Apollo had a feeling the resentment was directed towards him but opted to believe the opposite. He couldn't bear to look anyone in the eye as he told them what had happened.  

Y/N was at the Waystation when it went under attack, and Commodus had his Germani holding her, Emmie, Georgina, and Leo hostage. In an attempt to help her escape, Apollo managed to reveal his true Godly form which blinded the New Hercules and his troops. In doing so, the Germani holding Y/N hostage wounded her before turning into dust. The wound was fatal, and it didn't look good for her.  

Percy stayed silent as Apollo explained, his expression changing from anxious, to angry, and then distressed. Everyone present waited for him to say something, but it seemed as though he couldn’t. Sally instinctively brought her son into a comforting hug, and at her touch, the boy burst into tears. Y/N had been injured in fights before, but never severe enough that it was likely she wouldn't survive.  

Apollo couldn't help but get choked up himself. He had grown fond of his daughter in the two months he spent with her on the Quest. Despite the constant near-death experiences, Apollo had gotten to know her beyond a hero. It was his fault she was in this state, and he was worried the demigod sitting in front of him would blame him as well.  

"I need to be with her," Percy wiped the tears from his eyes, speaking more to Sally than anyone else.  

"How safe is the Waystation right now?" The woman asked kindly.  

"Percy will be in safe hands," Thalia answered, smiling as Sally. "I'll make sure he gets back to you in one piece."  

"Go, Y/N needs you right now," Sally squeezed Percy's shoulder. As soon as Sally said that, Percy rushed to his room, and emerged with a duffle bag not even a minute later.  

He hugged his parents goodbye and left with Thalia and Apollo. The demigod radiated anguish, causing the tension to increase between the three of them. Thalia glanced at Apollo, a look of pity in her eyes. She was worried about Y/N like everyone else, but she had a feeling she would be okay. It would just take time for her to heal.  

*** 

Percy hadn't left Y/N's side since he came to the Waystation. Emmie and Jo were worried about the boy, trying to convince him to eat more than just some toast for the fifth time that day. Leo tried to help as well, noticing that his friend wasn't sleeping at all.  

It had been two days, and Y/N's condition hadn't changed in the slightest. While Jo tried to convince the residents that it could mean good news, Apollo could tell she was as worried as the rest of them. This was a difficult wound to treat, and quite frankly it was a miracle Y/N had lasted this long.  

Apollo couldn't help but think of Hyacinthus when he had dropped by to visit his daughter in the infirmary. Percy looked completely broken as he gripped her hand, reminding him of how he felt when his lover was killed by Zephyros.  

In his eyes, Hyacinthus was the most beautiful man he had ever been with. The love that Apollo felt for him was still prominent to this day, causing the former God to compare all of his lovers to him. It still pained him to think about his lover, and the Hyacinth was a painful reminder of what he had lost. Due to Zephyros, Apollo would never feel a love like that again carrying the burden of grief for the rest of his Immortal life.  

Percy felt the same way about Y/N that Apollo felt for Hyacinthus, and it broke his heart. The boy didn't even notice when there were other visitors around, and Apollo was convinced that the demigod barely even knew where he was at this point. The only thing Percy could focus on was his girlfriend, who seemed paler since the last time Apollo came to visit.  

He held his daughter's free hand, finding himself praying to anyone that would listen. Don't you think this is punishment enough? Putting me in this pathetic mortal body, and putting my own life at risk? Y/N doesn't deserve to die, she has an entire life left to live. Please, don't take this away from her. She doesn’t deserve this. 

*** 

Y/N had gotten herself injured before, but the pain this time around was unbearable. She was weary when she woke up, and only vaguely aware of where she was. All she remembered was being held hostage by the Germani, and a sharp pain as she shielded her eyes away from Apollo's Divine form. The next thing she knew, she was confined to a bed in an infirmary with... snakes? 

The next thing she became aware of was the boy sitting next to her. His jet black hair was a mess, and his sea-green eyes were red and puffy. He had an iron grip on her hand, to the point that it almost distracted from the pain she felt from her wound. "Perce, you may want to lessen your grip a bit there." 

Her throat was extremely sore, and her voice didn't sound any better. Percy didn't seem to care, though, seeing his girlfriend awake. Exhausted and in pain, but awake. He almost fell out of his chair in shock, amusing the girl to no end, but quickly recovered. The smile on his face was infectious, and Y/N was pleased to see him. "How are you feeling?" 

She was about to reply when Jo came running in. "What's going- Oh! You're awake."  

The old woman looked relieved and rushed over to give Y/N some nectar. It tasted like Y/F/F and Sally's blue cookies. Her strength returned enough that Percy was able to help her sit up. "How long was I out?" 

"Three days," Percy answered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "We didn't think you were going to make it." 

"You really think I was going to die?" Y/N snorted. "Gods, what a lame way to kick the bucket." 

"Not funny," Percy crossed his arms and tried to look disappointed in her.  

"It was a little funny!" 

"No, it wasn't." 

"Babe, you're smiling. " Percy rolled his eyes and leaned over to kiss her. He listened to Y/N as she recounted what had been happening the past seven weeks, overjoyed that she was back by his side.  

The two barely noticed Jo leave the room and Apollo watching them at the doorframe. He was glad his daughter was okay and even happier to see her smiling. He wasn't sure if it was because his prayer was answered, or some sort of miracle happened, but he was grateful to know that she was alive. Apollo wasn't about to let Y/N lose the love of her life, especially at such a young age.  

At that moment, Apollo knew that he couldn't allow Y/N to join him on any more quests – even if it meant fighting with her about it. She was meant to go back to New York with Percy, and catch up on the schoolwork that she missed. The former God couldn't take that away from his kid and preferred she live a boring life for a while. As long as she was safe, it didn't matter to him. 

[sincerelyella]

All In My Head Part 7

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella)

Characters belong to Pixelberry; MC Ella Brooks belongs to me.

Song Inspiration: All In My Head by Tori Kelly

A/N: This is the first mini series I’ve ever written and I am so nervous about it! This is set in book 2 chapter 1, after the mess at the coronation takes place. MC has been stuck at Ramsford doing her daily lessons with the Beaumont brothers. Some cannon but mostly went left with this! Liam’s social season lasted about 5 months. He and MC had been carrying on their relationship since the beginning, they just had to do this in secret.

Thank you @burnsoslow for prereading little snippets and letting me bounce ideas off of your brilliant mind!

Warnings: Fluff

Words: 1147

“A surprise? What is it?” Ella‘s brows furrowed in curiosity. Before he could answer Hana interrupts.

“Ahem, what he means is - how are you doing Ella?” Hana looks at her best friend, her eyes filled with concern.

“I’m doing better. We actually have a surprise for you guys too,” Ella looked up at Liam, eyes twinkling.

“Hey! What about our surprise?” Maxwell protested.

“He just wanted to eat the surprise already. That’s why he’s so impatient,” Drake rolled his eyes.

Maxwell pouted, brought one arm around from behind his back and presented Ella with a pink box, her eyes widened in delight. “Is that what I think it is??” her mouth watered. Liam shifted his weight in the hospital bed and gave Ella a look.

“Love, the doctor wants you to only have liquids right now.”

“But babe, it’s just cronuts!” Ella protested.

“Wait, did you guys say you had a surprise too?” Leo asked, already starting to open the box of cronuts Maxwell had in his hand. Drake had left the room and brought back some chairs for everyone to sit in. Hana grabbed a cronut and moved to sit on the couch in the corner of the room.

“Yes,” she looked up at Liam and grinned. “Why don’t you tell them?”

Liam returned his own wide grin and looked up at their friends. “Well,” he cleared his throat, his emotions starting to get the better of him. “Ella has been sick to her stomach all week and fainted yesterday because she’s about nine weeks pregnant with twins.”

Everyone in the room stopped moving, their jaws dropped. Maxwell’s eyes widened and Hana dropped her cronut on the floor.

“Nine weeks …” Leo trailed off. “Wait, you guys have been fucking all social season?!” he yelled incredulously. “Mister ‘Goody-Two-Shoes’ was sleeping with a suitor?!”

Ella let out a loud laugh while Liam turned a deep shade of red. Drake was laughing so hard he made no sounds except for an occasional snort.

“It … it wasn’t all social season,” Liam looked at Ella pleading for help with his explanation but she was laughing hysterically. Tears coming down her face, and the harder she laughed the harder Drake laughed.

Minutes later, when all the laughter had died down, Hana was finally able to speak. “Congratulations guys! Not just one baby but two!”

There was a quick knock on the door. The nurse had brought in Ella’s food tray with the liquids. “Please sip a little bit at a time; if you’re able to keep it down and not get nauseated in between then that’s great. If you start feeling sick just stop eating okay?” Ella nodded and thanked her as she opened an apple juice box and sipped slowly.

Bastien stuck his head inside the room, “Sir, can I speak with you for a moment please?” Liam nodded and kissed Ella’s forehead before scooting off the bed and walking out into the hallway.

“What’s going on Bastien?”

“Your Majesty, I know you had the staff set up some things for you and Lady Ella before she was taken to the hospital. Did you want them to continue? When is she discharged?”

“Yes, please have them continue to set up everything,” Liam put his hand in his pocket and took out the red velvet box, eyeing it fondly. “We’ll have to find out from the doctor when she’s able to leave.” He put the box back in his pocket and smiled at Bastien. “I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“It’s no problem, sir, I’ve grown rather fond of her. I’m glad you two are back together.”

“She’s pregnant, Bas,” Liam’s smile grew wider and wider. “With twins.”

Bastien grinned and clapped Liam on the back. “That’s great news! Congratulations! You really gave me a hard time sneaking around during the social season, sir,” he laughed as Liam’s ears turned red. “I’m assuming this was unexpected but your detailed plans actually work out eh?”

Liam nodded. “It does. Let me know when everything is ready for us.”

“Will do, sir.”

**

Ella was discharged from the hospital the next day after being able to hold down liquids and solid food.

As she sat in the living area of Liam’s quarters she watched his statement live on TV. The press had gotten tipped off that she was admitted in the hospital and they were speculating on why she was there.

She watched as Liam made his way to the podium.

“Good afternoon everyone. I wanted to gather you all here to inform you that Lady Ella was admitted to the hospital for a stomach illness. The doctors have since discharged her and she is resting here at the palace. Thank you all for your prayers and well wishes, I know they have definitely helped in her quick recovery. I will not be taking any questions at this time. Thank you.”

She saw Liam wave to the cameras and make his way back inside. Ella rubbed her lower abdomen that showed a little bump softly and smiled. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming need for apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Mmm that sounds so good right now. Ella got up and called down to the kitchens. As she hung up the phone, Liam walked into the room.

“Hello love,” he approached her, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her back to his chest and settled his hands on her abdomen. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispered into her ear.

“Everyone is so full of surprises lately,” she giggled. “I have apple pie and ice cream coming from the kitchens. Did you want some?” She turned in his arms to face him, hands on his chest as she looked up at him.

“I do want some … but not apple pie,” he arched his brow at her and leaned over to kiss her passionately. Liam’s hands roamed down to the back of her thighs and lifted her up easily so that her legs could wrap around his waist. Ella squealed in surprise.

“I thought … you had a … surprise?” Ella mumbled in between kisses.

“The surprise … can wait until after … I taste your-“

Liam was cut off by a loud knock on the door. He rested his forehead on hers with a sigh as she laughed.

“That would be the apple pie your babies wanted.”

Liam carefully put Ella back down on her feet and went to answer the door. He walked back into the living area empty handed.

“Babe, where’s my pie?”

“It’s in the fridge, first … you’re going to get your surprise,” he grinned as he grabbed her hand and pulled her out the front door.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions XIV

Masterlist for other parts, more jercy, crackships and bad ideas

writing fic=more description=(hopefully) improve writing

no prewritten chapters=sporadic updates=as surprised as you about what happens

Tell me your thoughts, I'm insecure about this chapter. Also sorry for the long ass wait I haven’t felt in the writing mood but hopefully I'm back.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

Crown Prince Jason’s dream starts as all his dreams do. Him sitting on a cloud looking over a burning meadow. He feels himself wince as if his body already knows its going to be hurt and then he is pulled under, under, under and suddenly the dream is a memory. One he had forgotten about, one he wishes he'll live through for the rest of his life.

"Prince," A soft, warm voice calls. "Are you in here?"

There is a moment of quiet, the crackling of the fire and the turn of the page the only interruptions.

"I'm here." The reply is gentle, and sweet, and full of the brightest days.

Jason blinks, looks through long blonde lashes. "Hello my Ardor"

Leo sinks into the couch, grabbing his hand with the need to be close and comfortable and together. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I had some things to research before tomorrow meeting with FreedomtoFeed."

The Captain of the Guards raises an eyebrow and gives a pointed look to the raunchy cover of the novel he has clasped in his hands. "That looks very appropriate for a feeding-the-people initiative."

He blushes crimson and shuts the book with a huff of embarrassment. "I finished the research."

Leo pulls them together until their foreheads bump gently, "I'm only teasing. But you should go to sleep."

"Will you join me?"

The fingers dancing at the nape of his neck still, and smoldering brown eyes catch his. "Of course."

They release twin breathes and move impossible closer, until lips brush against skin and oxygen is sparse.

"You are so beautiful," The Prince whispers, kissing his jaw. His cheek. Nose. Throat.

"Please kiss me." Leo is shaking with anticipation, arousal.

And who is Jason to refuse such a precious request? He brushes his lips gently across his Ardor's and groans at the softness he finds. Pillows, and peaches, and sweetness that only intensifies when it deepens. Their tongues dance, explore each other languidly. Like time is nothing but a suggestion. His fingers brush silken warm cheeks and dance across Leo's skin until they're resting on his thighs.

Jason is breathless when he breaks away, "You are—" His words are cut off as the Guard pulls their faces together.

"No talking now my Prince. Tonight we only feel."

Jason feels himself frown, as the memory becomes hazy, disjointed. This wasn't how it happened.

‘Together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.” Leo gasps, his head falling on the Prince's shoulder. "Jase, I can't—" He's cut off by a cry.

And suddenly all his beautiful brown skin is turning to ash under Jason's hands. He tries to grab on to anything, any part of Leo, but the more he holds the more ash comes away.

"Ardor?" He cries. This isn't how it happens. This isn't the way it goes. He can't go like this. They can't leave each other. He just got him back.

He can't, he can't, he can't, he c—

Prince Jason Grace wakes up with a scream, blunt finger nails tearing into his chest as he attempts to rid himself of the nightmare. And when his eyes adjust to the world he only knows darkness and despair. The love of his life is still dead and he is still far away from his dear kingdom. Actually he has no idea where he is at all. That thought is the final pick in the ice and suddenly his body is wracking with sobs. His life is a complete fucking mess. And he doesn't want to do this anymore. Every event piles onto his chest like boulders until he can't breathe, until he is hyperventilating.

Far from home; Leo is dead; kidnapped; tortured; his husband is—

Wait where is his husband? The thought shocks him out of his panic so fast he's reeling as he sits up. The cold floor underneath his fingers ground him to the present and he pushes off the concrete onto shaky legs. He feels so weird, like his body is not his own, like he's been forcibly removed from it and shoved into a whole new one and now he has to learn how to be human all over again. He feels like he's died. Slowly he stumbles around until he hits a wall and then plastering his right hand to it he walks. Or more like drags himself along, nails scraping against the brick and a bare shoulder scratching against the roughness.

His eyes are useless for anything further than his feet and he sees no evidence of light. But the room, or what he's beginning to suspect is a hallway, continues so he to keeps going. Someone will fill in all the blanks in his memory but first he has to find his husband. There is a deep chasm in his chest and he has the ugly feeling it will only start filling when he sees those green eyes and floppy curls. It almost disgusts him how much he needs to see the Prince of Mare. It's like his body, his heart, has forgotten about Leo entirely. He feels sick to his stomach at the thought so he banishes everything but the need to get out of here. Suddenly he hits a wall, hard enough that he knows there’ll be a bruise tomorrow. With a silent prayer to gods he didn't care to believe in, he turns his body and keeps walking. Right hand still on the wall.

There is nothing and no-one. He feels likes he's in the inside of a black hole. There is not even the faint sounds of outside. It is just his dragging feet and his cracking nails and the ringing in his ear from the sheer lack of sound.

He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will get out of here. He will—

There's a scraping sound. Someone gives a sharp inhale. A pinprick stings his neck. He is never getting out of here.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

Prince Jason clutches his rolling stomach, and without warning throws up the little contents that may have been in there. Before he even opens his eyes he knows whatever he will see cannot be good. Even behind his eyelids it is unnaturally bright and he can hear hushed whispers coming from somewhere. They sound angry. He will get the brunt of it.

"Well well well," A rapsy voice echoes around him.

He forces his eyes open and blinks back the harsh neon lighting to see Annabeth Chase, his previous kidnapper, and Grover Underwood.

"It's such a pity you don't remember me." She pouts unhappily, but there is nothing but viciousness in her grey eyes.

He wonders what he should remember.

"How do you feel Jason?"

"Like I died. Like I want to get out of here. Like I need to see my husband." He spits at the man leaning against the wall so casually.

"All in due time. But while we have you here I think we could use you."

"Why should I help either of you?" He curls his lip, anger making his vision blur, "You," He points a disgusted finger at the blonde girl, "Kidnapped me and Percy and then proceeded to torture us." She giggles and he wants to bury that sound six feet underground. "And you," He looks to Grover, the advisor to Mare and Percy's friend. He looks every bit the enemy. "I don't trust you one bit. Not if you can have her in your presence so calmly."

"I'm not looking for your trust Prince," The man, the being, scoffs. "I just need your cooperation. Otherwise Annabeth here has permission to get as creative as possible."

Grover tilts his head to her, a silent conversation passing between them, and then he leaves without so much as a glance to him.

"I'll never tell you anything." He growls at her.

She grins, pretty white teeth gleaming in the horrible light. "Let me tell you a story Prince Jason Grace, about the day you lost your sister."

"My who?"

She gives a secret smile and begins.

Twenty seven years ago a girl with blonde hair and grey eyes was born to The King and Queen of Mare. She was a sweet little girl with pigtails and a sharp mind and she kept her parents on their toes every second. One day this little girl's mom came to tell her that she would soon be getting a little sibling to play with and care for. The little girl was undeniably excited, or as excited as you can be when you're three years old and get told you're getting a small person just like you. Needless to say a little boy with blonde hair the exact same shade as hers, and blue eyes as bright as the summer skies was born. While she had eyes the exact shade of her mother’s he had their father’s eyes. And it was dangerous, but nobody knew that then. The little girl loved him immediately and with all her heart. They spent every moment together. Growing up and learning and loving each other as if it was the only natural thing to do. But when the little girl turned eighteen she received some horrible news. Her mother had died. Her brave beautiful mother who gave her kisses and taught her chess and spent hours reading to them. Understandably the family was devasted and they took it very hard. The girl— not so little anymore, grief will do that to a person— was angry and broken and unwilling to listen to the world that had so unfairly taken from her. So she rebelled against their father and lost their mother. And in her quest to feel something she engaged in nefarious, sinful, delightful activities. It was there that she met the love of her life. The Crown Princess of Hekima. Reyna. They got married within a year and have been together ever since. But the girl found out something about her mother's death and she was so furious as she rightfully should be that she renounced her title and vowed to bring down the very thing that killed her beloved mother.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

“You are terrible at telling stories.”

Annabeth smiles like a lion ready to pounce. "Figured out who the little girl is?"

"You." He heaves, chest constricting as he takes her in.

"And her little brother?"

"How come I don't remember you?"

"When we kidnapped you we put a serum in that would make you forget certain aspects of your life." She shrugs as if she's discussing the weather.

"And you feel no remorse for hurting your brother?" He spits at her feet.

Her grey eyes flash like steel and she gets into his face. "I have no family."

"Why tell me at all? Why not just let me be ignorant?"

That makes her smile- no, bare her teeth. "Because unlike me Jason Grace you would do anything for the people you love, for the people you think you owe. No matter the cost."

"I'm not telling you anything." His voice is hard. Like the concrete he is pressed into. Like thunder.

"Nah uh," She grins at him, "I'm your sister remember. You wouldn't deny your sister the information she wants."

"Try me."

It must be a sibling thing because a challenge enters both their eyes and it shines bright enough to dull the horrid neon lighting in the room.

"How do we kill Crown Prince Perseus Jackson?"

He blinks at her. Blinks again. And then he starts laughing. Knee slapping, stomach aching, wheezing kind of laughter. He can't breathe. He can't even see because his eyes are so filled with tears.

"I'm serious." She grinds out.

"How the fuck should I know? We don't discuss ways to kill each other," He rolls his eyes, muttering "Even if we do think about it."

"You must know. You have to know. It is woven into your DNA. You meet each other in every lifetime and die. You have seen it for centuries."

His fading laughter vanishes completely as he whips his head up to look at her. "What?"

"You and Perseus. You guys are immortal deities who appear whenever the world needs to be remade.” Her voice is impatient as if he should know this. As if she’s explaining it to an incompetent child. “You as the healer and him as the destroyer. But people and beings alike have been killing you for centuries because your presence means they will cease to exist. You have watched each other die multiple times. You have revived each other multiple times too."

"So you're saying we're soulmates?" He can hardly believe what he's hearing. It sounds like the biggest load of bullshit he's ever heard.

"No. You're more than that. You aren't just two halves that fit to make a whole. You aren't even two wholes that fit to make a pair. You are each other. You do not exist without him. He does not exist without you. You are not bound by souls or hearts or whatever us humans believe is the epitome of love. You are bound by life."

"I don't believe you." He rolls his eyes. This is garbage. This is nonsense. This is not real.

"I don't really have time to argue with you about it. Just tell me what I need to know and you will be spared."

"Why should I?" He's not even considering it. He would never betray his husband like that. Would never put the Prince in such volatile danger.

"Because if you don't," She gives another of her terrifying grins, "The kingdom you know and love will crumble to nothing."

"You're lying."

"It's already started Jason." She cackles, "The more time you spend with Perseus the more he will bleed into you and you into him. There are already cracks in the castle. Do you really want to risk it?"

His heart is pounding but she is wrong. Isn't she? "I don't believe you." He says again.

"Oh Jase," She gives him a pitying look and he wants to rip her eyes out and toss them in a lake to watch the fish. "The Castle of Caelum is falling to the ground. Your Prince's blood spilled on mom's roses and they crumbled to dust. There are splinters in the stone. They will become chasms. Either you help us or you risk your precious kingdom turning to debris right before you."

"And what's in it for me?"

"You'll be spared from the slaughter of the monarchs."

"And my husband?"

"He will die. This is non negotiable. One of you must, to stop you from fulfilling your fates. We have someone with him right now."

Wrong answer. But he bows his head and pretends to mull it over. Inside his thoughts are whirring like a new machine and plan after plan formulates in his mind.

"Okay Annabeth Chase, my sister," He smiles soft and sweet. She returns it in triumph. "I will join your rebellion. I will tell you how to kill my husband."

And as she picks him up from the floor and removes the invisible ties keeping him pinned to the concrete he allows himself a secret smile of his own. It hints at the malice, the destruction, to come. They made the biggest mistake of their lives when they took him away from the Prince. They will pay.

I'm coming for you Percy.

So Crown Prince Jason Grace loops his arm through his sister's and makes friends with his enemy.

together or not at all. find him. find him. find him.

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

I don’t really know how I feel about this part. Feels a bit all over the place but at least we’re getting some clarification which is cool. Also are Annabeth and the rebels the good guys or bad guys for wanting to save the world from Jase and Perc? *raises eyebrow curiously*

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01​​

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​​

@leydiangelo​​

@sparkythunderstorm​​

@makos-bi-awakening​​

@aalikun​​

[snow--blanket]

good morning kisses

pairing: isaac/napoleon fandom: ikemen vampire word count: 2405 ***

“God’s breath—”

“I don’t—” Napoleon ‘the terror of France’ Bonaparte started, but cut his sentence short. “How?”

“I don’t…. know. Sodium bicarbonate was supposed to—um, make the…” Isaac struggled to word it in a way Napoleon could understand. When faced with panic and distress, his brain immediately resorted to scientific lingo like a liar did with high pitched intonations. “The black thing float.”

“I was out for an hour—”

“I know, I’m sorry—”

Napoleon walked to the fridge and tapped the sign kissed to it, as if asking for an explanation. It read: NO SCIENCE EXPERIMENTS IN THE KITCHEN.  He tapped the sign, once, twice, three times, all with increasing tempo, until the paper slid off the magnet and fell to the floor, much like Isaac’s heart did. He hated disappointing Napoleon. “What happened to our friends with benefits contract?”

Benefit was a loose term used in between them—namely, Isaac would help him with his calculus homework (trig too, if Napoleon was particularly loathsome that day) and Napoleon would help Isaac to not get bullied by Arthur and Dazai. It worked, but he really should talk to Napoleon about toning down his manly hero voice when he came to his rescue. He felt too much like a damsel in distress then. Isaac did not have a lot of pride, but he did have some of it, and he would like to keep that portion for future use, like when he corrects the barista’s spelling of his name. But he had made more trouble than benefit to Napoleon, and his face flushed as he berated himself. “I’m sorry,” Isaac said in a panic. He would play his trump card, what he called the Coward’s Calling: just beg for forgiveness until Napoleon got irritated and shoved it under the rug. It had a limited use though. If he were to use it now, he couldn’t use it for the next two or so weeks as it had a cooldown period and he needed time to gather his pride again so he could throw it away and grovel for mercy. 

“You already said that.” Drat. Napoleon often let it pass, but he supposed today’s… grievances were too big to let it slide. They both looked at the foaming pot of yesterday’s burnt curry. In Napoleon’s words, Isaac was to clean up his own mess, and he had to clean out the pot with the charred bottom without scratching it silly. You’re a genius, Napoleon told him. Figure it out.

Contrary to his expectations, Napoleon broke out in a laugh. Isaac hated it when people laughed at him—Leo’s was a condescending, older brother laugh, and he hated that. He was not a child. Arthur and Dazai’s were teasing, and he hated that too. They weren’t close friends. Strangely, his flaming cheeks were not caused by anger at Napoleon’s laughter, but rather embarrassment, for he knew that Napoleon always laughed at him like he was an idiot. Isaac truly felt like he should retreat into the cupboards as Harry did. “Are you done laughing yet?” 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just…” Napoleon wiped a tear from his eye. “Y’know, this is why people with theoretical physics degrees still don’t have jobs. You’ve used up so much of your brain thinking about—black holes, or something—”

“The fabric of time and space,” Isaac mumbled.

“—That, yes! Proved my point! You’ve used up so much of your faculties thinking about whatever that is that you don’t know that Arthur probably mixed in citric acid into your baking powder solution to…” Napoleon gestured to the foaming pot, and it looked like a witch’s cauldron. “...cause this. This is a textbook prank, ma cher.”

He might not hate Napoleon, but he sure hated the way that epithet rolled off his tongue. It made his chest feel scratchy, for some reason. “You’ll see,” he said instead. “When this physicist figures out how to make planets habitable, I’ll give you the opportunity to eat gourmet space dust when I leave this place.” Like he said, he didn’t have a lot of pride, but he did have some of it, and he wouldn’t let Napoleon drag the name of science through the mud. Physicists weren’t largely responsible for making a planet habitable, but he hoped Napoleon wouldn’t catch on. Isaac wasn’t very good at this comeback thing. Arthur and Dazai forced him to use his wits for driving them away instead of focusing on lectures. And he couldn’t even do it well!

“Ha! I’d love to taste it.” Ugh, he hated the way Napoleon smiled when he said that, too. The itch on his chest doubled. Now he had to figure out a way to phrase the symptoms to Arthur and let himself play patient for a while. The last time he went to Arthur for a consultation, he couldn’t forget the face he made when he said “it feels like my whole skin is being flipped inside out”. Even a savant doctor can’t figure out what’s wrong with you if you don’t know how to express it.

“Step aside, genius.” Napoleon bumped Isaac out of the way with his hip, looking much like a mother who had her work cut out for her. 

“Don’t come crying when calc comes up in class,” Isaac said bitterly, and then tested the word on his tongue. “...Jock.”

Napoleon chuckled at that, and then shooed Isaac away. He felt embarrassed that he wasn’t able to clean up such a simple mess, but being called a genius—even if it was said mockingly—made his chest inflate in pride. At the very least, he would be of use when it came to academia.

***

It was raining—storming, even. Isaac’s bleary gaze wandered to the glaring neon numbers on the alarm clock. 5:34 AM. Maybe Vincent would be up at this time. He got up from his bed, rubbed his eyes awake, and walked to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. He vaguely recalled Vincent saying he wanted to paint the sunrise, and knowing the kind of person he was, he was probably staying up until sunrise. Unlike his reputation as a “bad boy”, Theo was the earliest to sleep in, and earliest to wake. He could use more hours, but he liked to spend the early mornings to make pancakes for Vincent, especially if he was feeling anxious the night prior. 

As Isaac passed Napoleon’s door, he stopped, clasping his hands together in a prayer. May whoever who wakes him up be blessed with questions with graphs in their exam. Then he remembered Arthur, and he changed his prayer. May whoever wakes him up gets his face punched. It doesn’t even have to be by Napoleon. Anyone will do. After that, he wished some more, hoping that he was his British counterpart, and that all his coffee was third-grade and cold. When he finished praying, he headed to the communal kitchen, where he found Arthur fiddling with an empty tin of coffee. They were fresh out, it seemed. Isaac held the physical and psychological urge to fist pump the air. “Finished?” he asked, even though he knew they were, indeed, no more. God was by his side.

Arthur rattled the coffee tin, offended. The smart, clever, golden-tongued part-time mystery author and full-time medicine major was reduced to a witless man when he was caffeine deprived. It felt like the sun had died to let the moon breathe a little, except the sun was Arthur’s dreadful tongue, and Isaac wished it was eternal night. There was something that bothered him, though. “Working on a new manuscript?”

“Not today, though, shame.”

Isaac hummed, moving past Arthur to reach for the powdered chocolate malt stashed in the cabinet. “I actually read some of your novels, you know. They’re not bad.”

Arthur cocked a brow at this, leaning on one side of his body as if he was a seesaw. “Oh?”

Isaac did not have a lot of pride, but he wouldn’t lie. “Yeah. I can see why you’d want to be a doctor.” Hm. Vincent wants it with milk, if I remember correctly...

“Pray tell,” There was a Cheshire grin playing on his lips, and try as he might, he couldn’t truly wish for Napoleon to kiss those lips of him to shut him up. The thought made him feel itchy again. 

“The line of reasoning you use to explain things for your mystery novels,” he started, putting in three spoonfuls of the chocolatey goodness into the mug. Vincent’s had some dabs of yellow and blue paint on them, so it was hard to mix them up. “They’re a bit similar in how you would diagnose a patient. You take a glance at them, try to infer their history and habits, and then you would investigate further for a diagnosis. I think it’s quite…” Isaac hesitated—not because Arthur was undeserving, but it was the first time he recalled ever talking to him in this manner. “...Brilliant. You are, that is,” Isaac finished, pouring some hot water into Vincent’s mug as he stirred it. Saucer, saucer...

Was it the trick of the light? As Isaac reached for the saucers behind Arthur, he swore it  looked as if he was blushing, the light dusting of embers on his cheeks as if the light above them both were a fire. Isaac took a sip of his own mug of chocolate, peering at Arthur all the while. He breathed in, steeled himself. “As I am a scientist, allow me to hypothesize, instead of deduct.”

His flustered British counterpart seemed all too accepting of the offer. Strange. It wasn’t normal for Isaac to be the one in this position. Isaac stifled a sigh. How he wished the night would last indeed… “You usually stay up late writing for your books, but I haven’t heard you write anything for the past week when I walked by your room.”

When Arthur was silent, Isaac continued. “You only use about two spoonfuls of coffee beans when you make coffee, but even factoring the fact that Theodorus and Mozart drink coffee, the amount seems to be decreasing exponentially, instead of it’s usual rate.”

Isaac eyed the ticking clock on the wall. 5:40 AM. It was nearly sunrise, and he was sure Vincent was painting without a care in the world. “Thirdly, your clothes smell like paint sometimes.” This final proof put the fire in Arthur’s face again. Isaac offered his hand that held Vincent’s mug and saucer. “It’s almost sunrise. Go bring this to him.” 

Arthur took the mug and saucer with a dumbfounded look, and Isaac savored that look for a while, knowing it was as rare as a blue moon. Feeling awkward, Isaac took his mug of hot chocolate, and walked away. He stopped at the entrance of the kitchen and glanced at the witless, silent mystery writer. Take that. Maybe he was good at this comeback thing after all. “Well… just pretend you didn’t see me, I guess.” He wasn’t good at lying, so feigning ignorance was the best he could do. 

When he turned, Arthur’s voice stopped him. “I have a deduction.”

Isaac turned his heel, looking at Arthur, and took a sip of his hot chocolate. It had gotten slightly cold. “Yeah?”

“You’re in love with Napoleon.”

“Wha—” He choked, searching for the right words. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He didn’t even allow him the slightest shred of decency or subtlety! After he was so gracious in merely insinuating his crush towards Vincent! “You—”

Arthur grinned his cocksure smile, and Isaac truly wished Theodorus was here to punch him in the face. This blathering, insensitive, witless, shameless, atrocious man! “Your face tells it all. You should never become a detective.”

“I don’t—” Isaac said, and then sighed when Arthur kept a level stare, his blue eyes like discerning glass looking through him. Isaac put down the mug of hot chocolate on the counter and then sank his face into his hands in embarrassment, bracing himself for the teasing laugh from Arthur. He hated that. “Was it that obvious?”

As if to apologise for his sudden declaration (which may or may not be truth), Arthur hummed, taking his time. “Not really. It shows on your face, though.” He put down Vincent’s mug, leaning his elbow on the counter.

He lowered his hands—eyes still averted from Arthur’s gaze, and chuckled bitterly. “What? Do I look like I’m researching him or something?” That was usually the case with whatever held his interest, whether it be astrology, chemical compounds, physics problems that seemed impossible at  first, and then revealed themselves to him, like a magician that made a one second mistake in the sleight of his hand, and Isaac began to understand. He wasn’t that self-aware of his own expressions, only the things he’s said. And he’s positively sure he’s never spoken of Napoleon in an intimate manner, much less romantic.

“No, not at all. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

Isaac scrunched his brows. “The opposite of love is hatred.” 

Arthur laughed, and Isaac just tried to be patient with that. “Not at all, chap. I’m saying—when you’re with him, you don’t try to… dissect him, and whatnot. Your love for him makes you human. There’s no glaze in your eyes when you understand something, no foaming at the mouth when you don’t. You’re just…” Arthur stretched his arms wide. “Here. With us, on the ground.” The mystical way Arthur said it made it sound like the kitchen was the entirety of the world. It might as well could’ve been. Arthur was quiet, and his gaze returned to Vincent’s paint blotched mug. “He makes you feel alive, doesn’t he? Like you’re here.”

Isaac stared into the small waves the water made when he nudged his own mug. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

“Then that’s that,” Arthur said, grabbing Vincent’s mug as he patted Isaac on the shoulder. For once in his life, Isaac didn’t shudder when Arthur winked at him. “Good luck,” he said, and left the kitchen. Probably to Vincent’s room. 

Isaac sighed. Right then. If Arthur could do it, then he could at least try. He brought the cup of hot chocolate with him and knocked at Napoleon’s door, knowing full well that he would be asleep, and that he would try to kiss him again.

His chest itched, but he didn’t bother to question it this time.

[illfoandillfie]

Hello!!

Just wondering if I could get a romance/ love reading? My initials are RCU and his are MS, thank you!! ❤️❤️

sure thing darling!

tarot: king of wands/the magician, 6 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, 7 of pentacles, 2 of cups, queen of pentacles, 8 of swords/justice

A couple of things worth noting before we get into the meanings of the cards. Firstly there are only 2 court cards which may indicate that one of them represents you and one represents MS. The king of wands is related to the fire signs so if one of you is an aries, leo or sagittarius it could be a connection there and the queen of pentacles is linked to the earth signs - taurus, virgo and capricorn. If that doesn’t fit though it may be more with the temprements of each card and we’ll get into those in depth in a minute. 

The other thing worth noting is how many pentacles cards are here. Usually you look for cups cards in romance/love readings since they’re more tied to emotion but thats not to say lots of pentacles is bad. Pentacles are related to earth so they’re very grounded. Often pentacles are associated with nature, and things in the material realm which could indicate that this relationship isn’t held together by just emotions but something more tangible too. Due to the material connection of pentacles they’re also strongly linked to work situations and finances so if you know MS through work or school that could also be a reason a lot of pentacles are appearing. 

Anyway, onto the cards themselves. 

Firstly that King. In this deck some of the minor arcana cards double as major arcana as well and the king of wands is one of them. He doubles up as The Magician, so i will take both meanings into account but they’ve got similar energies anyway. Both the king of wands and the magician are related to control. The king is linked to fire which is wild and hard to control but he’s more than capable. He’s a natural leader and symbolises overcoming challenges. Fire can represent passion and love and creation but it can also represent destruction and this king definitely has that duality within him. He’s passionate and action focused and often an artistic or creative thinker but he’s also capable of holding a grudge and being narcissistic or aggressive. Similarly, The Magician is an action card too. He controls the elements to create his magic and harnesses the energy to make things happen. The Magician is a good sign for romantic connections too. It shows a desire there, not just physical desire but also a drive to be a good partner. If this card represents you, it’s likely about trying to manifest this relationship and to make it a strong one. If however, the king of wands seems to better fit MS it may be a sign that there is an interest on his end too. 

The Seven of Pentacles is clarifying the king card and it represents hard work, perseverance and diligence. To me this says the king card is representing you but it could still go either way. Basically these cards together are saying that you can draw this relationship to you and you can create a connection but it will take time and effort. Manifestation is half thinking about what you want and visualising it and all of them mental work but it’s also half about taking steps to build it in the 3D physical world. Wanting it is half the battle and the seven of pentacles is a reminder to take actions where you can to make it a reality. 

Then we have the 6 of pentacles which is about charity, generosity and sharing clarified by the 2 of cups which is about unity, partnership and connection. To me, this says that once the relationship is manifested it’ll prove to be one full of kindness and care. You’ll find in each other supportive partners who will encourage and help one another. Also, it has to be said, he’s likely a generous lover, if that’s your jam lmao. It’s definitely a positive sign for the relationship though. 

Next is the 8 of pentacles and queen of pentacles. The 8 is usually a card that appears in relation to people who have started a new job or apprenticeship of some sort since it’s related to ambition, passion and high standards. But these still aply to a relationship, particularly something only just starting out. It shows that at least one of you (but likely both considering that 2 of cups from before) will be driven to keep working on making the relationship good. Loving someone is as much of a skill as anything else and relationships take work to stay strong and this card shows that even through conflict or uncertainty you’ll be working at the relationship and learning from your mistakes rather than giving up. 

The Queen of Pentacles enjoys her creature comforts but is also practical in how she managers her household. She’s warm hearted but also ambitious and hard working. She’ll do what it takes to keep those she loves safe and happy. Sometimes she gets refered to as the “wife card” so it makes sense for her to appear under the 8 of pentacles. She does what she can with what she has and she tries to make the best of every situation. While the relationship may be new, whichever one of you is represent by the queen (or perhaps both of you) will have the drive of the 8 of pentacles as well as the hopeful mindset of the queen. 

And finally, the 4 of pentacles and 8 of swords/justice. I think that, while the other sets of cards were about creating the relationship and it’s beginning, these cards are a bit of a warning. The 4 of pentacles is about security and protecting what is yours but often it can be a sign of hoarding or becoming too selfish. In regards to a relationship it may be a sign of becoming too clingy or demanding. And the 8 of swords is related to feeling trapped by your own anxieties and fears. It’s a card of self-victimisation. In this deck it doubles as the Justice card which is about clarity and truth. I think these cards are warning you not to let the desire to create a strong relationship drag you into a spiral of worry that then influences the relationship, if that makes sense. It’s saying not to let worries about not being good enough or anxieties about how the relationship should be developing effect your behaviour too much. You run the risk of becoming overbearing or manipulative if you listen to the negative thoughts. The Justice card is a reminder that balance is essential - a balance between time together and time apart, a balance between working on the relationship and keeping up with hobbies. Don’t let yourself fall too deep into caring about the relationship so that you loose yourself in it. Be truthful to yourself and encourage your partner to do the same.  

Okay so for your oracles i pulled 4 romance angel cards and 3 of the lovers oracles. And you got:

Worth Waiting For - Divine timing is at work in your love life / Separation - Time apart from your partner is on the horizon / Calling In Your Soul Mate - Your prayers, affirmations, and visualisations help bring you together / Very Soon - Clearly decide what you want so that it comes to you now 

I think all of these resonate with the tarot messages we got. Worth waiting for says to me that the relationship won’t materialise immediately and I think that what the magician and 7 of pentacles was talking about. It will take some time and effort but it will be worth it in the long run. Separation is an interesting one. Obviously the card’s description indicates you may be separated from one another sometime in the near future (or you already have been recently) but my first thought when i saw it was related to that justice card and the reminder that time apart can be healthy for a relationship. Calling in your soul mate ties into that 2 of cups card, regardless of how you interpret the concept of soul mates. if you arent into the whole “one true love” thing it could just symbolise a deep connection. And very soon indicates that the ball will start rolling soon. Keep looking for opportunities to get closer as well as mentally focusing on what you want to happen and you’ll soon find that things will move forward. 

Your 3 heart cards say:

My Beloved - Though we may be physically apart, spiritually we are always united, for love transcends space and time. Nothing is missing. / Passion - a magnetic and seductive quality surrounds you at present. Enjoy it! / Healing - imagine yourself and your beloved surrounded by light. Feel your relationship being healed this very moment. 

we have another reference to being apart/separated here in that first card. This could be referring to physically separated by distance or just not being together as a couple yet. But again, there are also signs that this connection has the potential to be deep and heartfelt. Passion ties in with the king of wands card. The suit of wands is linked to that fiery passionate energy so it makes sense for you to get cards about it, but also passion is felt in that 8 of pentacles as well, so it’s passion beyond a physical attraction or sexual chemistry. 

[sylvain-writes]

Valentine's day scenario or headcanons where the boys' s/os bring them all big bouquets of flowers and presents and just all around lavish them in love and attention. (I'm fucking soft for this stuff)

I misread this ask as the s/os giving gifts to their turtles, not realizing the anon had specified bouquets of flowers.  I had thought the flowers were a suggestion/example.  I do apologize; I hope this satisfies your curiosity regarding the boys’ reactions to being loved on Valentine’s Day.

Leo

You know roses are the Valentine’s Day staple, but the more you think about it, you think of how transient their beauty will be.  The flowers will wither and be discarded in a week.  You don’t want your gift to be reminiscent of the beginning of an end.  You wish you could give Leo something that will last, that will grow, like your love for him.  So, you decide to get him something more permanent–a cherry blossom tree for his small garden in the old dojo.  Leo has been yearning to watch the Sakura Festival in Japan since forever.  However, unable to go out in public, board a plane, or charter one of his own, (Yet! -Donnie says with enthusiasm.) Leo has only watched the blooms through pictures and videos.  

When you present Leo with his tree, he’s speechless.  He holds your hand as he examines the young somei-yoshino.  He touches the soil with reverence, no doubt doing a quick test of its moisture level, and marvels at the buds swelling along the thin branches.  He whispers something like a prayer as he lays his hand on its willowy trunk.  Quietly, you assure him that Donnie helped you solve issues with air flow, irrigation, and lighting regarding raising a tree in the sewer. (Don’t expect any birthday gifts from me for the rest of your life, bro!)  Leo doesn’t need you to explain, he knows you wouldn’t give him a gift like this if you hadn’t planned it out.  One thing he loves about you is how much thought you put into your gifts for him, but of course his favorite gift is your time and company.  So, you take the rest of the day together, sipping sake under the tree, imagining what the breadth of its branches and beauty of its blossoms will be like as it grows, planning a life together between kisses.

Raph

Donnie is always gifting everyone with new tech.  So, when you present Raphael with a bracelet, he turns it over and over in his hands looking for a secret latch or computer chip.  When he comes up with nothing, his mouth twitches up in a little smile.  “It matches yours,”  he says with quiet realization.

Raphael looks from the long velvety box in his hand and to your bright, expectant eyes.  He runs his finger over the gold chain’s thick Cuban links, and lays the bracelet over his wrist.  He asks you to fasten it for him and it becomes a symbol of his bond to you.  He takes your face in his hands and ducks down for a soft brush of his lips against yours.  For the rest of the day, he stares at it, rubs it between his fingers, twists it over his wrist.  Whenever he’s anxious or overwhelmed or losing his temper, he touches the braided chain and finds his center again.

He wears the bracelet everyday, everywhere.  It reminds him of you.  It reminds him that no matter what is going on, he is coming home to you at the end of the day.  

Mikey

The best gift you can give Mikey is acceptance.  And while it took some creative thinking and a lot of searching, you found a way for Mikey to celebrate a date night in the city, above ground, by your side, with no need to hide.  When you get off work, you give Mikey a big kiss and tell him it’s time to hit a club for a night of dancing and revelry.   Mikey’s hesitant and stunned by the news, but you seem so sure of yourself that he can’t help but let his excitement overpower his trepidation.  

It’s nerve-wracking, at first, thinking someone will notice a mutant turtle in the crowd.  But as Mikey looks around, he realizes that this particular club seems to cater to people in costumes (some quite elaborate).  And he truly relaxes.  He has a drink, gives into the music, and pulls you close for a dance.  It makes you so happy to see him in a crowd that doesn’t stare or cower at the sight of him.  He’s able to enjoy the company without fear of discovery or judgment.  Everyone in attendance of the party is focused on their own partners, so besides a passing compliment on Mikey’s looks, you and he are left alone.  

On the dance floor, Mikey lifts you in a Disney-style spin and brings you down slowly to his chest for a lingering kiss.  And there are coos and awws instead of expressions of disgust or dear.  Mikey nuzzles into you, so in love and in awe, and so grateful for the memory he’ll cherish forever.

Donnie

When you present Donnie with the piece of tech he’s been waiting for, but unable to acquire, he starts talking excitedly about its features and why it’s the best and what he’s going to use it for and how it’s going to revolutionize the way his van does X and his bo does Y and his computer does Z.  He gets so wrapped up in his plans, he doesn’t realize he’s absentmindedly loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves as he places the hardware on the desk beside him.

You watch him fondly, a slow smile spreading across your face.  “I did good, babe?”

Donnie looks up at you with his big, inquisitive eyes, clutching the tech to his chest.  “I’m sorry we’re supposed to– I’m letting myself get carried away.”

Your patience is genuine when you assure him, “It’s OK.“  You suspected his reaction would fall in these lines; you’re happy the gift is a hit.  “Go play,” you encourage him to tinker a while.  "Dinner reservations are at 8.  We got plenty of time.”

[canarhys]

I have a headcannon that because leo’s Body temp is so high, he feels cold constantly, cuz of temp contrast and all that. I would literally die if you wrote a fic for me and @honestlydeepestmilkshake about Leo and Nico on the Argo and Leo stealing his aviator jacket.

you couldn’t blame leo if he was cold.

they’ve been on the sea for days, weeks, months — it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say that things on the argo ii were starting to spiral downwards into a pit of despair. one was the rocking of the ship, which would cause his friend hazel to groan as she slouched over the toilet bowl, the contents of her lunch now discarded into the clear waters. leo would often hold up her hair as she retched, wincing in sympathy as tears began to dust the corners of her eyes. the same thing happened with jason, though he would not vomit and instead stay cooped up in his cabin, shivering and whimpering away from the eyes of others. that didn’t stop leo from trying to aid him, however. next was the frequent monster attacks. gaea was really out here, though asleep, attempting to foil their plans to make it to the ancient lands by sending waves of harpies and sea monsters their way. it didn’t help the crew’s seasickness at all.

finally was the cold. leo had a high body temperature, and as a result, was actually cold constantly — especially in open, windy air. usually he could handle it, as all he had to do was create a flame or use his own supply of heat to warm his aching bones. yet as of now, he was shivering in his work boots as he walked down the hallway from the engine room, just having made repairs on the gears and pulleys in his living space. it was cold, so goddamn cold he was literally about to fistfight khione all the way from the argo ii. wasn’t he supposed to be the son of hephaestus? wielder of a fire that burns brighter than the ancients? it didn’t feel that way as he marched on, the rain pattering against the floorboards above him.

then he sees it. there’s a table on the side of the hallway, a small cactus on it that leo had personally named george. george was a small green little fellow, sitting inside of a clay pot and thriving in the waterless scene. leo had made sure to give him water whenever he would not be busy with the quest and shit. but that was not all that was on the table. next to george was a brown aviator jacket, the furs looking way too warm to pass by.

leo had been so cold, shuddering with each step he made, that he wasn’t thinking when he grabbed the jacket. he supposes it is jason’s or piper’s, as it was pretty big on him yet fit around his body just right. it smelled of petrichor, a peppermint and earthly scent despite how much heat it administered to leo. he tugged the corners around his stomach so his entire torso was wrapped in the furs, and he couldn’t help but smile at the feeling. a small blush came over his face. he was totally stealing this.

he finished his walk to the mess hall, entering the bright-lit room which held all his friends, who had already begun chowing down on the food magically prepared for them — frank was eating some carne asada, piper was chowing down on a pb&j with coca cola, jason was drinking a glass of oj, and hazel was coloring in a sketchbook as she mindlessly ate some chicken nuggets (she had grown fond over them after leo had decided to introduce them to her). “sup, crew!” he exclaimed as he waltzed into the mess hall, and the reactions that occurred snapped him out of his euphoric mood. jason spat out his oj. frank and piper choked on their food. hazel only gasped, dropping her pencil, which rolled over the table and fell onto her lap.

“dude, what are you wearing?” piper asked him, coughing to expel the contents of her sandwich so she wouldn’t choke to death. leo raised an eyebrow.

“what do you—?” he looked down at the jacket and made a noise of realization. “oh, yeah, i found this in the hallway. this isn’t one of yours?”

his friends shook their heads.

“okay, then who—?”

“um…”

realization hit leo when he had heard the voice behind him. he snapped his head towards the hallway, and felt his face heat up at the sight of nico di angelo, the last of the seven, wearing only his black t-shirt and ripped jeans, staring at leo with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as if he were a fish. okay, well, leo’s had a good run. nico will probably vaporize him on the spot for stealing his precious aviator jacket, and at this point leo already accepted the fact that he would die of a premature death. leo hums in astonishment at his bad luck. “oh, this is… this is yours,” he starts, noticing that nico is not making a move to murder him where he stands. leo forces a strained laugh. “whoops. sorry, man. uh, here.” he begins to take off the jacket when nico raises his hand in protest.

“no, don’t,” he says, quick and way too eager. nico clears his throat when he realizes the sudden outburst, then returning to his no-shit-taken look, breathing in deeply. leo notices that nico’s cheeks are flushed. “uh, you can wear it. it’s pretty cold.”

“oh, um…” leo side-eyes the rest of the crew, who are equally agape. he drifts his gaze back to nico. “thanks, man.”

“no problem,” nico answers, and the conversation ends there. the son of hades takes his seat at the table, and leo falls suit.

dinner is quiet. quieter than usual, though this time it was not from the looming awakening of mother earth herself but rather of the awkwardness of a situation leo did not account for. leo was pretty sure nico was staring at him, but everytime he would attempt to be sure of his guess, nico’s eyes would drift away and focus more on his plate of french fries. nico had been eating french fries for the past three days. leo is going to kill him.

the seven decide to call for a break, with hedge steering the ship and barricading any of their attempts to be on the lookout after the demigods overstrained themselves for the past month. leo voices his goodbyes to them, and exits the mess hall first, trying to exit before any further conversation could be made. then once he’s in the clear, he hears the padding of footsteps. he looks behind him, and nico di angelo has now entered his space, walking by his side and looking towards the end of the hallway. leo’s face is flushing. it’s enough heat to light a tree on fire, but leo knows that if he sets nico’s jacket aflame he’ll end up in the underworld, right in the fields of punishment. so he doesn’t say anything, and he walks all the way to nico’s room.

they make it to the door. “uh, thanks. again. for the jacket.” leo doesn’t really know what to say to nico, but he makes up for the lack of words by taking off the jacket and handing it back to the son of hades. nico nods, staring down at the fabric with an unreadable gaze.

“you look good,” nico admits. “in the jacket, i mean.”

leo blushes. “oh, uh… thanks.”

nico nods. “yeah.”

there’s a silence in the air. leo’s eyes drift to the burn on nico’s shoulder and feels his stomach tighten. at least it’s bandaged up. that’s… that’s good.

“you can take it,” nico tells him. oh gods, he’s still going. “if you feel cold again. just saying.”

“i’ll keep that in mind.” leo rubs his neck, and offers nico a small smile. “night, nico.”

“night.” nico opens the door to his room, but not without catching one last glance at leo, before he disappears behind the wooden door. leo lets out a sigh, a small exhale. that… went better than expected. leo really thought that nico di angelo was going to rip his soul to smithereens before leo could recite the lord’s prayer. then again, nico is someone else entirely for leo. has been for years.

he walks back to his room, ignoring the heat on his cheeks, and suddenly he’s not cold anymore.

[vmheadquarters]

We’re going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then “toss” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter Three of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @saoirsekonstantin​

And stayed tuned next week for Ch.4 from @chikabiddy​ -tag, you’re it!

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CHAPTER THREE by @saoirsekonstantin​

The sleet changed over to lacy flakes of fluffy snow that drifted from the sky, further covering everything in a thick blanket of white as far as the eye could see, while the owl flew overhead.  It did a cautious circuit over the house before deciding it wasn’t safe there anymore.  Flying to the left, it grew tinier in the stormy night sky until it moved out of sight, but Veronica didn’t notice; instead she raced around the back of the house toward Gia’s scream.

Logan and Wallace ran right beside her through a foot of snow, and all three came to a screeching halt when the light of their flashlights found a male body covered, in part, by snow.  Blood stained the snow surrounding him, turning it a muted maroon color.  A tree branch almost as long as Logan’s arm protruded from the man’s chest.

Tucked between two fingers, and sticking up out of the cup of his palm, was a photo of two men being intimate.  It reminded her of the image she’d seen of ‘Joe the Boss’ Masseria with the playing card in his hand, in her favorite vintage crime scene photo.  An overzealous crime scene photographer staged the infamous picture of him lying dead on the floor of a Coney Island restaurant, with the blood-spattered Ace of Spades posed resting between two fingers of his bloody hand.

She suspected a similar, if not more sinister, scenario here.  There was no way a body that big had fallen without the impact dislodging whatever was in his hand.  Despite the ever-deepening snow surrounding the body, from her spot a few feet away she saw cuts and abrasions on his hands, implying he fought back; so that would make him holding onto a photo even less likely.

About five yards straight ahead, past a few longer tufts of dead grass breaking through the snow, the red soles and three-inch heels of Gia’s ‘cute’ but useless boots stuck out of a shadowy snow bank.

Veronica stepped over to the snow-covered male body and crouched down.  After removing her glove with her teeth again, she brought her fingers to the man’s wrist, which was protruding out of the snow.  While trying in vain to find a pulse, she took a deep inhale of the crisp, snow-filled air and called out, “Gia, Can you hear me?  Are you okay?”

The gusting wind caused the branches of a nearby tree to shift, and snow cascaded down on both bodies. Gia gave no response to her voice, or to the heavy snow falling onto her.

Veronica glanced up at Logan and Wallace when she still found no pulse on the guy, she shook her head before rising and stepping around the body.

Her foot hit a slick spot, and she slipped, almost falling—except Logan was right beside her, and reached out, grabbing her. “I got you.”

With a soft up tilt of her lips she admitted, “You always do.”

He grinned at her.  “For better or for worse, I always will.”

She glanced away, and they resumed taking cautious steps towards Gia.  They reached her lying in the snowbank and discovered that when she fell, her face had turned just enough to keep her from suffocating.  Veronica reached towards her, and Logan helped her roll Gia over.  With Gia’s eyes closed and the lack of worry lines, she could have been fast asleep.

Veronica watched while Wallace reached down and touched Gia’s wrist.  She crossed her fingers and offered a prayer to whoever would listen, ‘Please let her be alive,’ while waiting for him to say Gia had a pulse beating against his fingers.

He let out a heavy gust of air.  “She’s alive.”  He leaned down and peered at her chest.  “And she’s breathing.”

Veronica gave a single jerk of her head.  “Good, now let’s look at the dead body real quick. Take a few pictures before getting Gia out of the cold.”

Logan held out his arm for Veronica, who grabbed hold of it before taking the few steps back to the body.  She took out her phone, and snapped pictures from every angle of everything she thought the police might want, even zooming in on the branch sticking out of the dead guy’s chest and the photo in his hand.

She took a deep breath of the crisp night air and furrowed her brows, uncertain whether the metallic tang in her mouth was from the snow in the air or the blood on the ground.

When she took the last photo, she leaned in closer to the guy’s snow-covered face.  After hoping the police would forgive her for touching the body, she brushed the snow from his face before gasping.  “Crap! Logan, it’s Norris Clayton.”

Dick and company chose that moment to come clamoring over through the snow drifts.  “We heard a scream.  Who’d you kill now, Ms. Black Widow?  Shit! I was kidding but isn’t that the guy who had a crush on you in school?  See, Logan, I was right.  She’s a spider waiting to eat you alive when you let your guard down.”  He affected a high-pitched voice. “Come into my parlor, so I can devour you.”

With a frown, she shook her head, ignoring Dick. “Dad said, Norris is a Deputy Sheriff now; so we’ve got a dead Deputy and a dead P.I. who used to be a deputy.”

Dick wandered over, trudging through the foot of deep snow, and after leaning closer to the body he grabbed the photo.  “Hey, what’s this?”

Veronica reached for it, but it was too late, Dick was already getting his wet fingers all over it.

Dick cackled.  “Dude, Luke, what the hell?  You prefer dudes over chicks?”

Luke snatched the photo out of Dick’s hand, and without more than a quick glance at it, moved to tear it in half; but Veronica swiped it out of his grasp.  “I don’t care who you like or what gender you prefer.  However, I also don’t care how embarrassing you find a piece of evidence, or how much you want to keep something a secret.  You destroy evidence and I’ll make sure the authorities hear about it; and you’ll need to explain publicly why you tore up a photo of you and Conner Larkin in flagrante, which I can describe with perfect clarity. And now everyone here knows it, so think twice before you go touching my evidence again.”

While she pocketed the picture for safekeeping and took her taser out of her messenger bag, Luke scowled. “Your evidence? Listen here, you little know-it-all bit—”

Logan interrupted. “I’d watch what you say if I were you and show a little respect.”

With a raised eyebrow, Luke asked, “Why, you going to beat me up?”

Logan, chuckled, and shook his head.  “Won’t have to.  She’ll splay you out in the snow with a jolt from Mr. Sparky, which is already in her hand.”  She waved her taser at him with a smirk, while Logan continued. “Make no mistake, I might make a habit of jumping in and protecting Veronica, but she can take care of herself, especially against the likes of a pretty, pampered, rich boy like you.”

Luke scoffed.  “Oh, like you’re not just as pampered and rich as I am?”

With a low, bitter laugh, Logan said, “I’ve got way more money than you could ever hope to have, but no one ever pampered me. Daddy Dearest made sure of that.  I can take care of myself.”

Veronica smirked.  “You’re also prettier than he is by a long shot.  Those arms, hubba-hubba.”

Logan laughed. “Why, Mars, are you objectifying me?”

She smirked but didn’t answer. Dick leaned over Gia’s prone form, and while he glared, asked, “So, did you kill Gia, too?”

Veronica crossed her arms over her chest.  “I didn’t kill anyone, and Gia’s still alive. Which brings us to the matter at hand; which of you strong strapping men will carry Gia into the caretaker’s house?”

Cole took a step back. “Not me. Can’t we just leave her here until she wakes up?”

Veronica rolled her eyes and articulated each syllable with crisp clarity. “And not only leave her unprotected, but let her die of hypothermia instead?”

Logan took a step forward. “I’ll do it.”

With a shake of her head, Veronica said, “No, you and Wallace are at my back and sides since you’re the only ones I’m certain aren’t killing people.  It’s got to be someone else who carries her, or…”

She marched back over to Gia, slipping, and landing in Logan’s arms.  While he righted her, she said, “See, I need you watching my six.”

He chuckled and helped her over to Gia. She leaned down and slapped Gia a few times, with increasing force.  “Come on Gia, nobody has time for you to be lying around while bodies are dropping like it’s going out of style.”

On the fourth slap, Gia moaned.  “Ugh, stop already.  I told you, Veronica Mars, they do not make these boots for hiking through snow.  What’d I trip over, anyway?  I would have been fine, but I hit ice.”

Dick leaned closer.  “Another of Ronnie’s victims… sorry, boy-toys. Norris somebody.”

Veronica stood back up and faced Dick.  “He and I hardly knew each other.  I cleared his name when a dirty ATF agent tried to frame him, but I spent all of an hour talking to him in my time in Neptune. And I didn’t kill anyone.”

With a smirk, Dick crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking her. “And I didn’t say you did.  I said he was another victim of yours, as in you broke his heart, just like that Leo guy and Piz, and Troy, and Logan.”  Wagging a finger at her, he said, “If you get my boy killed, I’m gonna be pissed. You already got my dad and my brother killed.  Logan dies because of you and I’m gonna go ninja on you.”

When she began raising her arm with Mr. Sparky in it, Logan grabbed it. “Don’t, he’s not worth the trouble of explaining why you tasered him after this is all over.  And if you taser him now, we’ll have someone much heavier to carry than Gia, since he won’t be able to walk.  And to make matters worse, he’d play that card for as long as possible.”

He turned and faced Dick, eyes hard, his voice steel. “And for the record Dick, I’m tired of you always blaming Veronica for every little thing that goes wrong in your life.  Your dad was a crook who died in prison, because even at rock bottom, he couldn’t dial back the elitist bullshit.  And your brother was a rapist and murderer, who took a stroll off the roof of a building all on his own because he was too much of a coward to face the consequences of his own actions.  Both were their own people, who made their own choices and paid the price for them.  Veronica had nothing to do with either of their deaths, even if Cassidy twisted the knife a little deeper by forcing Veronica and I to bear witness to his end.”

Dick took two steps closer to Logan and snarled. “But if she had minded her own business, no one would have figured out what Dad was doing. And Cassidy was a victim, too.”

Logan shook his head. “They would have figured it out; only he would have had time to add even more victims to his list of innocents, who lost their life savings because of him.  Kendall was talking to the authorities.  And Veronica was Cassidy’s victim, not the other way around. Yes, he was Woody’s victim; however, you don’t see me or Veronica using our status as the victims of grown men misbehaving as an excuse to blow up a bus full of kids, do you?  Your brother may have still been a kid, but he made grownup decisions and hurt people.”

Dick threw up his hands and stomped off through the ever-deepening snow, while calling over his shoulder, “Whatever, dude. When you become another casualty of hers, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  The surrounding snow dampened his voice and it faded on the increasing wind with his every step away from the group.

Logan took a step towards him, but stopped and glanced at everyone who was staring between him and Dick’s retreating form. “I’ll let him cool off.”

Gia pouted. “Did you have to bring up my dad?”

He shook his head.  “Just stating the facts.  What your dad did wasn’t your fault, but I’m not going to pussy-foot around the fact he took advantage of and hurt innocent kids for his own pleasure. I’m hoping he and my dad are roasting in hell together.”

Veronica took his hand in hers and squeezed.  “If there’s any justice they are.  Now, we need to look inside the caretaker’s home. There might be a phone, or something else that might prove useful.”

Susan frowned, her arms akimbo.  “And how are we going to do that?  We checked, both doors are locked.”

With a smirk, Veronica rifled through her messenger bag and pulled out her lock-picking kit.  “Do you think a locked door has ever stopped me?”

Logan chuckled. “I know for a fact that not even an armed security system has stopped you.  Though I still maintain you just wanted to see me in nothing but a towel.”

She batted her lashes at him and brought her free hand up to her chest. “Moi?”

He nodded, and she tilted her head and gave him a once-over before returning the nod. “With those arms, the way they are now? I might pay good money for that, just to see what else has improved with time.”

He gave her his patented smirk and said in a sing-song voice, “You think I’m hot.”

She giggled before slapping her hand over her mouth, and saying though her fingers, “That never happened.”  He smirked but didn't contradict her, so after lowering her hand, she eyed him again. “And you know how good you look, with or without clothes.”

Wallace scowled.  “Hey, you think the two of you can stop flirting long enough to figure out a way off of this death trap of an island?  I may not have been the next victim, but statistically, as the only Black man here, my number is coming.”

She grinned.  “Don’t worry, Papa Bear, I’m not letting you or Logan out of my sight, so neither of you will shuffle off this mortal coil anytime soon.”

After turning, she led them back through the snow drifts to the front door of the caretaker’s house; and after handing her flashlight to Wallace he pointed it at the lock, while she took off her gloves and went to work unlocking the door.

Within a minute she pushed the door open and took back her light before stepping through the doorway. She turned and flashed the light on the wall by the door.  “Dammit.  Nobody touch anything.  I think there is blood by the light switch.”

With a shaky hand tucked inside her jacket sleeve to keep both the blood from her hand and her prints from the bloody light switch, she reached out flipped it on, confirming her suspicions.  Blood smears covered the wall, as if someone had dragged a bloody hand along the wall while trying to support him or herself.

After turning and facing the rest of the room, she narrowed her eyes and picked her way through the wreckage of overturned furniture and living-room debris, including a smashed flower vase with the wilting flowers covered by the shards of blue glass and several magazines thrown into the air, and allowed to land where they would.  She reached the satellite phone on one of the few upright pieces of furniture beside the couch in the room.  She pushed the on button but nothing happened.  After picking it up, she turned it over. “Everyone keep your eyes out for the battery.”

Wallace used his boot to move some magazines. “Like the one over here smashed to smithereens?”

She skirted around the large triple blood pools on the floor.  One of them had drag marks leading up the staircase.  For the time being she ignored that and leaned closer to the shattered rechargeable battery on the floor.  “Yeah, like that.”

Logan stood inside the door. “Is it just me, or is there one blood pool too many for the number of bodies we have?  And what can I do to stop you from following the trail of blood up the stairs?”

Her lips turned up at the corners.  “Not a thing.  I will turn over every stone, look through every closet,”  She picked her way around the room, her eyes scanning everything while she continued talking. “And, hello, rifle through every backpack hiding in plain view behind an overturned chair.  I won’t miss any clues if I can help it.  Your life and Wallace’s may depend on it.  And I’ll be damned if I get either of you hurt.”

Logan dropped his voice an octave, to that tender voice he reserved for Veronica.  “You know, you don’t have to save everybody.”

With a shake of her head, she said, “Not trying to save everybody, just those who matter to me, those I love and would be nothing without.  Those who are the air that keeps me breathing.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, straightening up. “Are we doing this now?”

She gave him a shrug while she crouched and unzipped the backpack. “It’s as good a time as any, and I need you to know I still need you and I miss you.  I—I still love you, always have.  Even if you don’t take me back, I need to say it to your face at least once.  You deserve that much from me, after everything I’ve put you through.  I need to pull on my big-girl panties and admit, to your face, that you’re the only man I’ve ever truly loved; and the only one who not only gets me, but has always supported me, even when you thought I was being stupid and reckless.”

He shifted on his feet and took a step closer to her.  “What changed?  You’ve never admitted to any of this before, not in so many words, at least.”

She flashed the light into the bag, and after making brief eye contact with him, glanced into the backpack. “Life without you in it sucks. I hate it and want to go back to the world I had where you were always there.  And I’m tired of fighting my feelings; somewhere along the way, I realized that the fact you scared me with all your feelings meant I felt something worth experiencing.  Living safe is boring and never taking emotional risks makes me stagnant.  If I can take risks in every other aspect of my life, why shouldn’t I be just as brave in this instance and take the one risk that matters most?  If I’m right, and my life is a shallow empty shell without you in it, imagine what my—our—lives, together, can be... if I grow up, and act like a mature grown adult who isn’t too scared to commit, or even say I love you.”  She made eye contact again. “I do, ya know?  I love you so much.”  After glancing back at the almost empty bag, she continued, “It hurts when we’re apart, and that’s what scared me.  That you’re so vital to my happiness.  Sue says,—”

“Wait, who’s Sue?”

With heat rising in her cheeks she ducked her head. “Sue is my therapist.  Anyway, she said my fear of feeling emotions so much is a product of everything that happened to me—to us—and it amazes me you went the other way and feel so much.  But I want to experience that.  I want to be free of all the baggage, and I want to be free with you if you’ll have me.”

He stood there staring at her for a solid minute, his eyes flickering over every inch of her face, as if memorizing each curve. Then with a smirk he put her out of her misery.  “I’m not saying no, but how do you plan to work around the fact you go to Stanford while I go to Hearst?  What about the distance?”

Veronica shrugged, her gaze staying down, but her voice lowered.  “Wallace already drives up every weekend, so it’s a doable weekend trip.  We could switch off weekends, back and forth.  Or if that doesn’t work, you could transfer or I could transfer, either is a possibility.”

Without waiting a beat, he shook his head. “Stanford is your dream.  You always wanted to go there.  You’re not allowed to transfer because of me now that you’re there.”

Her lips turned up a little.  “I will ignore that ‘allowed’ part, because I’m sure you don't mean it in a controlling or bad way, and I don't want to start a fight over something so petty as a word.  But, for the record, I would.  I would switch out of my dream school, if it meant being with you for the rest of my life. I would give up Stanford and anything else that might get in the way.  You shouldn’t be the only one in this relationship making sacrifices and personal changes to compromise and make this work.”

She finished that statement by taking two ID’s out of the bag and standing.  “I choose you, Logan, now and always if you’ll have me.  And I choose to be your partner in this, a fifty-fifty–”  She paused. “No that's not right.  I want a one hundred-one hundred partnership.  No more lopsided relationship where you put in all the effort and make all the compromises, with me just taking from you without reciprocating.”

He took the five steps to her and pulled her into his arms before crushing his lips to hers.  They stayed like that until he pulled back, gasping for air. “I got into San Jose State University  It’s half an hour away from Stanford.”

She beamed before her lips turned down.  “Why did you apply to transfer there?”

With a smirk he said, “You’re not the only one who felt empty and stagnant.  I was hoping to convince you to give us a try one more time.  Our story is epic…”

She giggled again.  ��Spanning years and continents.  Lives ruined, bloodshed…”

“Epic.”

Her eyes darted to the pools of blood. “Well, we’ve got bloodshed, and lives ruined in spades today; and, now, I’m even more determined to get you and Wallace out of here in one piece.  We’ve got a future to work on, together.”

He leaned in and gave her a tender kiss, and they stood there amid the destroyed living room, enjoying being on the same page, before a scream ripped through the small house.  They pulled apart and took each other’s hand before turning towards the scream.

Wallace smiled at them.  “I hope it works out for you guys.  You suck apart, both of you bellyaching about not being with the other. Do a brother a favor and stay together, so I can focus on my love life instead of yours.”

They laughed before the three of them climbed the stairs, stepping on the edges of the steps to avoid trekking through the bloody drag marks.  When they reached the top, everyone else clustered around a doorway. The girls all cried, clinging to each other, and Cole and Luke both bent over and threw up in the hallway.

The three friends pushed their way through the crowded hall and entered the bedroom before looking around the room; bed against the wall, a desk in the corner, bureau standing against the wall the door was in.  It appeared normal, except for the bloody drag marks leading to the only other door in the room.

Veronica let go of Logan’s hand, strode to it, and opened it, before staggering back and slamming her hand over her mouth.  After fighting her own gag reflex for a minute, she said, “Duncan!  What the hell?”

She turned towards Logan, blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay.  The last thing she wanted was to shed tears in front of the other oh-niners.  She’d save them and share them with Logan, the other remaining member of the Fab Four, later.  For now, she said, “Maybe I am the Black Widow.  Perhaps Dick is right for the first time in history and you should get as far away from me as you can.”

Duncan Kane’s bloodied face and lifeless eyes stared out of the closet at them.  With quick steps, Logan moved behind her and gathered her into his arms, holding her tight. “Not a chance, Bobcat, wild horses won’t drag me from you now.”

Her lips turned upward before she glanced at the two IDs still in her hand and she lost her smile after she did a double take. She pulled back from Logan enough to hand them to him, but still stay in the circle of his arms, before asking, “Recognize these two jokers with a penchant for hurting people?”

He took the cards with one hand, the other holding her to him tighter and stared at them.  “Who are Adam Rodriguez and Peter Hanson?”

After shaking her head, she said, “No idea who the names belong to but look at the pictures.  Their names aren’t Adam and Peter.”

He peered at the top card. “Dylan, Dylan Goran, the ass who hurt Trina and got a beat-down from Dear Ole Dad.”

She inclined her head, so he shuffled the cards so the second one was on top and sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Gory Sorokin.  Crap!  What are these doing on this island, out in the middle of nowhere?  You don’t suppose the assholes are here, do you?”

She took the cards back from him and examined them, even holding them up to the light.  “These are top quality fake IDs, Logan.  They paid good money for these.  If these cards are here, I’d bet my college scholarship and your trust fund that Dylan and Gory are here somewhere, too—lurking in the shadows, and possibly killing people associated with me or both of us.  Remember, Leo first stole and then sold you Lilly’s sex tapes, and while not directly connected to Clayton, you led ‘the torment Veronica’ campaign at school that he tried to intervene in, or you could even get to him through the ATF agent. You gave Ben a beat-down while he was setting Clayton up for terrorism.  And Duncan, he was your ex-best friend and while he was also my ex-boyfriend, Sue showed me that what he did was rape.”

She took a deep breath and released it even while she gripped his arm tight.  “He raped me. Somehow, I made what he did okay in my mind, because I couldn't face the fact that my former best friend hurt me like that.  And then—then I dated him. Logan—I'm so sorry that I fell for his good boy, perfect choir boy routine.  I'm so sorry I ran from you and my feelings for you.”

He pulled her back into his arms. “I forgave you for that a long time ago.”

She sniffled into his chest before pulling back. “Thank you.  I’m not sure I deserve that but thank you.”

He kissed the tip of her nose.  “I’m not sweeping it under the rug or forgetting about it.  However, I’m seeing a therapist too, Jane.  We’ve been working together on my forgiving those who have hurt me and myself, too.  So, I forgive you, because I believe you’re sorry, and Jane has helped me see how much you’ve been hurting, how confused you must have been trying to deal with everything that happened to you, including me turning the school against you.”

He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’m sorry for that, and, now, you’re sorry for the things you did in our relationship, too.  Jane taught me that holding onto that hurt and anger will only hurt us both.  So I propose we both work on letting go of the pain and rage and heal together.  You and I have always been better together.  The problems between us always crop up when one of us forgets that and I want us to work this time 'Ronica.  It won't always be easy, but you're it for me, my one true love, and I'm willing to work for us if you are.”

She fell into him more and, damn the consequences, she sobbed all over him even with the oh-niners looking on.

A few minutes later that seemed like a lifetime, a weight lifted off her shoulders and she straightened, and kissed his chin, before she pulled back, straightening her shirt.  “Thank you.  We’ll talk later about all this when we don’t have more pressing matters to deal with… like bodies piling up.”

With another glance at Duncan’s body, she said, “So, Duncan’s connected to both of us, too.  Clayton is, I admit, a stretch, but the other two aren’t and if we include Troy and Piz, we’re both connected to them as well.  Troy dated me and stole the steroids after visiting Mexico with you and Luke, and you gave Piz a beat-down when you understandably thought it was him who recorded and distributed the video of him and me making out.”

The door downstairs creaked while it opened before it slammed shut and Veronica did a head count. Everyone but Dick was in the hallway; she waited a moment for him to come upstairs, but he never did.  She gave a heavy sigh.  “We need to go see who came in.”

Logan’s eyebrow rose.  “You don’t think it’s Dick?”

With a shake of her head, she said, “Wouldn’t he already be up here mouthing off?”

“Crap, you make a fair point.”

She turned in his arms and hugged him before pulling back.  “This time we all need to stay together for real,” she said, before leading the group back down the stairs.