#nico has TWO hands and so do will and al

[froggie-at-home]

Just Nico bonding with Will after Gaia and falling for him. Just Nico traveling around and coming back to the underworld and meeting Alabaster and falling for him, too.

JUST NICO PANICKING BECAUSE FUCK HE'S GOT CRUSHES ON TWO GUYS

And then Nico and Will hang out outside the CHB and run into Alabaster and. Will and Al just point at each other like. long time no see asshole.

Apparently the two know each other from the Second Titan War and made out more than once.

[randombush3]

audentes fortuna iuvat

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two

words: 9541

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks III

content warnings: there’s some (a lot of) cheating + postpartum depression. it’s more frustrating than sad though x

notes: this covers 2019-22(ish). It was SUPPOSED to be the last part. It’s not anymore. I’m gonna do a fourth to deal w the mess I have created in a more self-indulgent amount of words than the 3k i had planned. That will probably have smut in it 😛

“Y/n left me.” 

The limousine you are in is completely black, save for the white lines being measured out right next to you. 

“What?” says Jenni. 

“She left me,” Alexia says once more. The hotel room is a non-committal beige. They lie in the same bed, the older of the two welcoming her lost teammate wordlessly and without judgement. Tomorrow, they will return to Barcelona, losers yet another time. “She moved back to london. She took Nico.” 

“She can’t just take Nico, can she?” 

“Y/n, how’s Nico?” Your stomach turns, but whether that is provoked by the thought of the baby boy you left crying in your father’s arms or by the white powder outlining the rim of the woman’s nostrils, you don’t know. 

Your son’s creasing eyes, red face, and grabbing hands appear in front of you. He screams as you walk away. He doesn’t understand why he has not smelt Alexia in weeks, and he misses the comfort of home. 

Everyone waits for your answer. No one comments on the bags under your eyes. “He's fine,” you say with a smile. “He loves it here.”

“I think she is depressed,” Alexia tells Jenni, comforted by the arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close and tightly and reminding her that she is not as alone as you have made her feel. “She told me that she couldn’t be in Barcelona anymore, but she said that without giving me a chance to come with her. Her bags were packed before the conversation started — she might as well have called me from the plane.” 

“Are you angry at her?” 

“Yes.” 

Alexia thinks about it. 

“No.”

“No,” you say when they point at your very own line. The drug holds a place of both familiarity and hatred in your heart. The fine, white powder reminds you of greatness – of being the most successful girl group in the UK – but, also, of hospital visits. It’s not a past addiction, but it could have been. You light a cigarette instead, though it will make the vehicle reek. “I can't. I have a son.” 

“You’re not a saint.” They boo. “You’re allowed to have fun. I saw you the other day, and you had no qualms with any drugs then.” 

“No, I'm not a saint,” you reply. You regret that night — however little you remember. “But I am a mother.” 

“Is it that thing? Postpartum?” Jenni asks. “The baby blues are really shitty, I've heard, but they’re not supposed to cripple you. Maybe the relationship has other issues.” 

“I'm not angry at her, Jenni,” Alexia repeats. “I miss Nico. He looks like her. He has started to look a lot more like her now.”

“He would definitely suit those sparkly bralettes.” Jenni giggles at the thought. 

With an understandable lack of good humour, Alexia ponders something more realistic. “He would suit a Barcelona kit.” 

“He would be made for it. You are his mother.” 

“I'm not angry at her,” Alexia says for the third time, just to make herself believe it. Just to carve those words into her bones and tell herself that it isn’t anger, what she’s feeling. “I don't want to be angry at her. I think I'm going to see if I can move to arsenal.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Well, I'm not angry at her.” 

“Alexia.” Jenni cups her cheek tenderly. “Ale.” She knows she shouldn’t. She’s not angry at you, and so there is no punishment needed. Not that… Not that kissing Jenni would ever be utilised as a weapon to get back at you. Or that she’d actually kiss her. 

“Daddy, I can't get him tonight. No, I don't want to stay over. Daddy, I…” You hate the baby. You hate yourself. You hate that Spain hasn’t done well, and that your fiancée is disappointed that nothing is how it was supposed to be. Alexia is probably lying awake in bed, missing her son, and missing you. You expect one of her teammates to call you soon, and tell her that she needs you. You’re her person. “I'm going to get some sleep and I'll pick him up tomorrow. Probably around lunchtime, okay?” 

“Alexia, bésame.” 

…

You had passively bought your house. It’s how property sale works when you’re a celebrity. People are always willing to do things for you if you know the price, and it never hurts to use your name to add a new flashy level to whatever stupid business they are running. It’s a mutual exploitation, to some extent. 

Highgate is beautiful. The house is beautiful. 

The reception room, with its high, decorated ceilings, is your favourite place to numbly take in the twisted jigsaw of your life when Nico has cried himself to sleep. The nursery is on the first floor. He is near enough for safety, but at a distance that allows you to regret all the mistakes you have made.

You watch him roll over onto his stomach, eyes trained on the baby monitor though your fingers graze the ivory keys of your new piano, attempting to compose something worthwhile. At this rate, your solo career is going to fail just like your relationship seems to be doing. 

Yesterday, while Alexia seemingly disappeared from the face of the Earth, you came out. It was an off-hand comment during the Graham Norton Show. A quick ‘my fiancée named him. She’s from Barcelona’ was all it took. You hope Alexia, wherever she may be, has heard about it. Jenni would have told her. You trust Jenni to be somewhat on your side because she always has been. 

The doorbell rings just as you sniffle, wiping away the tear that slips down your cheek. “Don’t be pathetic,” you mutter to yourself. “You didn’t pay five million pounds to sit here and cry. You chose to come back home.” 

Being in England – colder, drearier, lonelier England – has made you realise that your decision was not the right one. Or maybe it was. It has proven that you are as terrible a mother as you convinced yourself you were back in Barcelona, and it has also shoved the cavity Alexia leaves in your life when you refuse her entry right down your throat in the form of a constant lump and a dull stabbing in your chest whenever you think about anything past whether Nico has had anything to eat. You can’t even feed him properly, despite it being supposedly in your nature. You buy formula from the nearest Waitrose. 

The doorbell rings again. 

The insistence is not uncommon seeing as you are, at the minute, the English press’s number one target. You open the CCTV app on your phone so that you can decide whether or not to ignore the potential stalker, and your heart rate spikes when you see the hooded figure standing on the porch. Back to the door, it is not possible to determine the threat. A well-buried maternal instinct kicks in for once, and you ensure that Nico is still peacefully out cold before getting up to answer the door with the poker from the Victorian fireplace firmly in your grip. Just in case. 

You are a mother, in whatever capacity you have decided that role looks like, and so you undo the three latches on the door with brave, protective fingers. The baby monitor’s volume has increased, and the fuzz of white noise is audible if Nico were to make a sound. The vague repulsion at the idea of it all is only an aftertaste in your silent prayer for the hooded figure to not want to kill you. Some sick part of your brain imagines Nico dead, as well. It tortures you. 

The poker in your other hand, for the most fleeting of moments, is almost plunged into your chest. The imaginary, self-inflicted wound makes you think of the blood and how the baby upstairs would wail until someone found him. The grimace of annoyance on your lips is nothing new, but you have no more time to torment yourself because the doorbell is pressed again, rather impatiently. 

You open the door and the hooded figure is right in front of you. “He’s asleep,” you say, the Spanish foreign on your tongue. 

Alexia shrugs, and her hood falls down, revealing the brunette tendrils that hang from her slowly sinking bun. “I came for you,” she replies, so earnestly that it is as if nothing ever happened: past pain forgotten and replaced by sprouting memories of soft kisses and mornings where leaving was too hard to do. Some of them, you think, are not real. They don’t seem to be. Your blank stare is unsettling. You almost don’t believe her. “Can we talk?” she tries, and you notice the team-issued duffle on the tiled floor she is standing on. Then, from the pocket of her hoodie, she extracts a pastry box. The plastic window is filled with circles of different colours, and she holds out the macaroons to you as if to bribe her way into a home in which she is unsure she belongs to.

Stepping aside, leaning the poker against the wall by the door, you scratch at the bare skin of your neck. Alexia, while sweeping an arm down to collect her bag, fixes her gaze onto the ring you are wearing, and the diamond glistens with hope that this can all be fixed. “Would you like to come inside?” 

She swallows the whine of anguish that tears her heart open at the idea that this might never be her house to live in, too, and she follows you dutifully as you lead her through hallways far more luxurious than the flat in Barcelona could ever be. This is what you left her for – the person you are, no longer in worn clothing with messy hair, is quite the opposite of the woman with her back to her moments before she had to focus on football. The necklace draped on your sharpened collarbones is new, and she does not dare believe what she has been hearing is true. Yes, there are pictures, but she trusts you. She will always trust you. 

“Have a seat,” you say, gesturing to the wooden dining table. It is clean enough for her to determine that it is unused. Alexia places the macaroons in front of her, and aches at how you sit at the opposite end. 

“I…”

“I thought you were going to give me all the time that I needed.” It is a statement of distance, as if your location is not enough. 

Alexia, eyes widening at how unwelcome she suddenly feels, needs only to remind herself of the impending date of the wedding. It is beginning to loom uncomfortably, with the excitement of getting married drained out like a low tide on a deserted beach. “We have two weeks. If it isn’t going to happen, then you should tell me now. We have to give everyone notice so that they can cancel their flights.” Your silence spurs her on. “You will need to contact the wedding planner, because you refused to let me have a hand in any of it so I don’t even have their number. I’m sorry that you won’t be able to wear your dress. Vivienne Westwood is a big thing for you, I know. I’m sorry that it’s inconvenient.” 

“But Alexia,” you whisper, “I don’t not want to get married.” 

Her eyebrows furrow, head tilted slightly to the left. “I know. That is why I am saying this.” 

Your voice grows louder. “No, no. Sorry, that wasn’t the easiest thing to understand.” Across the dining table, your love that has faltered, that has hesitated and been reconsidered and been stamped down over the past month, extends towards her: its final destination, always and forever. Alexia feels it grab her by the throat, wrenching the words from her before she can even formulate a thought in response, and her body is so drawn to you, in such a powerful fashion, that she pushes her chair out from the table with a grating scrape and is stepping towards you with a finality that makes her wonder if she’ll ever leave your side. 

As she approaches, the idea that she is here becomes a little too real. You have played with the fantasy of it, of course, but the tenderness in her usually fierce eyes does not match the anger you had expected, and, in the most feeble fashion, you have never felt more apologetic in your life. 

“I’m so sorry,” you begin to say. Tears stream down your face with freed anguish, and the words are so simple yet they bear the weight of your entire soul. “I’m so sorry, darling. I made a mistake, and I have been met with the most crushing of realisations: I can’t do this without you, Alexia.” I still want to marry you, Alexia. 

The room seems to close in on your despair, attempting to bottle it, almost, and keep you trapped underneath a haze of emotions you don’t quite know how to sort through. “I… I’m beginning to hate him.” The confession hangs heavy over Alexia’s bowed head as she stands frozen in place, stuck in her journey towards you but unable to arrive. “I’m acutely aware of how cruel it is,” you continue, this next admission being what agonises you the most. It floods the room with guilt, and your voice trembles with self-condemnation that reigns harsher than any other voice in your head. 

“It’s ridiculous. I’m evil and I’m wrong, and I just feel like it is inherently in my nature to be like this, as though some fault has been built into me with warning signs we evidently ignored.” You struggle to breathe. “I wish I could take back the day we decided to have him,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, lips doused in tears, skin searing with shame when Alexia cups your cheek with a strong, calloused hand. “He should not have to be stuck with me as a mother.” 

Your chest heaves, and you are finished. You have never verbalised it before now, and it is impossible to decide whether it has helped remove the lead lining of your heart where it has been bolstered against your will. Her other hand steadily rises to your face, but then, with only a second of hesitation, she is pulling you upwards and enveloping you in her embrace. You feel a little bit closer to her. “Mi amor,” Alexia murmurs, tone cracked with sorrow and regret. “Lo siento mucho. Desearía haber sabido, desearía haber estado allí para ti.” 

Gently, she tilts your face upwards to meet her gaze. “You are not evil and no estás equivocada. Estoy aquí ahora, y no te dejaré enfrentar esto sola nunca más.” You collapse into her. “I’m here, cariño, and I am not going anywhere.”

The sentiment is wonderful, and Alexia makes good on her word. 

When Nico begins to cry, the sound piercing through your choked sobs, Alexia realises she has missed all of her life with you. Being separated and being apart due to work, she now knows, are two excruciatingly different things. The whiny wails from upstairs visibly jar you, though you pull away from Alexia to attend to him. “I will do it,” she declares, though her firmness is not mean. “Sit down. Eat the macaroons – they’re… ‘to die for’?” You nod with instinctive encouragement. “Sí. They’re to die for. Try. Jenni says that the pink ones are the best.” 

“Jenni picked them out?” you ask with a briefly regained humour, eyebrows raising. “Had to get your friend to choose your apology gift?” In truth, neither of you know what Alexia would be apologising for, but Nico’s crying grows more incessant and Alexia is climbing the carpeted staircase before the topic can be discussed. 

Alexia reaches her son with tears brimming in her eyes. The failure of Spain at the World Cup is amplified by the idea that she has disappointed him, though he does not yet possess the tools to pledge his allegiance to her country. In fact, Nico has been sleeping in Manchester United attire (your father has been his primary carer of late, and he does not charge you money, so the price is obviously Alexia’s sanity). She is more than glad to smell his nappy, and delighted about the opportunity to change him into something less hideous. 

“Mama loves you so much,” she tells him as she manoeuvres his chubby legs into a plain, inoffensive onesie. “I promise, petit. I am going to help her, okay? And we are going to get through this together.” Alexia forgets about the taste of Jenni’s lips and the heat between them. “Mama just doesn’t see the direction she is going in. It is like her eyes are covered, and she is telling herself that she is walking down the wrong path, but this is not true. You are the most special thing in the world to us. You are the sunrise, the sunset, and the hours of the day.” 

She pauses to stand him up on his tiny feet, hands hoisted underneath his armpits. He is heavier than when she last held him, but she is stronger than before, too. Women’s football is growing, along with her muscles. Nico babbles out a vague reply, but Alexia hears what he is trying to say. “I agree. We’ll be alright.” And, with all her heart, it rings true. 

…

The following day, she calls the doctor for you, script written out on a piece of paper in front of her, translated perfectly so that her concern does not waver the information she needs to tell the receptionist. The clinic is famous and discreet, and they are quick to prescribe you antidepressants before the week draws to a close. You won’t be able to drink at your wedding, and everyone might think you are pregnant again, but Alexia reassures you that it will be worth it. 

Wrapped up in your own bubble, the three of you enjoy London in a way that isn’t possible in Barcelona. 

Here, Alexia has no commitment to football. There are no training sessions she must rush off to, there are no teammates to pry, and no one else to interfere with your private little routine. You quite like it, and she does too. It is only temporary, before you fly out to Menorca and hand Nico off to Eli in order to enjoy your respective bachelorette parties and then, in exactly seven days, your wedding itself. 

“You’re still smoking,” Alexia says disapprovingly, the sleep in her voice enough to make you feel a pang of guilt. It’s late at night when Nico has finally been soothed from his aching gums, and she has been able to climb back into bed expecting to find you asleep already. “Why are you awake?” 

“I’m still smoking,” you tell her. She sighs at the way you parrot her words, but presses an affectionate kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulders despite the lingering smell of cigarettes. “If I can’t drink, I’m going to smoke. This is Hollywood.” 

“This is Highgate.” Her accent curls around the name with something a little too foreign for her to ever consider this place home. “Why are you awake?” she repeats. 

You look down at the open notebook in your lap, the pages either blank or full of crossed-out lyrics. “He was so loud, but I can’t seem to write anything either so, really, it has been quite redundant.”

“I had to get a glass full of ice and hold it to my fingers so that I could help him. I could have lost some very important assets, but it seemed to do the trick.” He’s teething. You’re telling yourself that the antidepressants are little pills of miracle, and have kicked in already. “Feel.” She presses two freezing fingers to your cheek, and you gasp, flinching away from her. 

“There’s a teething ring downstairs, you know,” you tell her. She shrugs. Maybe it isn’t clean. “Don’t give yourself frostbite. I happen to quite like your fingers.” 

Alexia’s smirk is beyond suggestive, and her lips hit your neck once more with an entirely different heat to them. “Yeah?” You push her head away. “I bet it would feel good. Nice and cold.” 

“You’re delirious.” 

She continues to kiss you. “I don’t know what that means,” she mumbles into your neck, until her lips reach your face and she is near climbing into your lap – notebook long pushed onto the floor. “Dímelo en español.” 

“No lo sé.” 

“Ah. Una palabra inteligente.” 

“Claro.” 

She laughs into the kiss she presses against your lips. She never has never felt like this with anyone else. Never this relaxed, or loved, or safe. “Me vas a matar con tu inteligencia y voy a sentirme estúpida para siempre.” 

“I love you,” you state softly. “I love every part of you.” Alexia, in that moment, decides to never do what she did with Jenni again, and to never break your heart by informing you of her betrayal. 

…

You’re married. 

You’re married to Alexia, a woman who bears the beauty of a goddess and the strength and will of someone who could capture the sun and tame the fire that rages on its surface. 

You admire her as she sleeps so peacefully beside you, tanned skin warmed by the sunlight streaming in through the large windows of the hotel room. Later, you will get on the ferry, go back to Barcelona, and then fly to Capri for three days alone before Alexia’s preseason starts. Aside from a few meetings with Dave, you theoretically aren’t swamped with anything. You’ll be joining her in her city with Nico with a bit more permanence than last time. 

Alexia buries her face in the covers, crawling into your open arms the minute the sunlight rouses her. “Everything is sore,” she groans, her bare skin slightly sticking to yours, the sweat from last night not yet gone. 

“What happened to ‘mi vida, one more time won’t hurt’?” you tease, impersonating her heavy accent over your English with enough drama to get her to elicit another grumble. This time, it’s something about being bullied. “Darling, we have to get up. We’re having breakfast with our parents, and apparently Nico has been upset that we got a night to ourselves.” 

“Pobrecito,” she replies with a newfound level of English sarcasm. She spent the wedding reception avoiding the dance floor, engaged in a long conversation with your father. The topics spanned over most areas of life, and briefly touched upon how you are doing now. Alexia, with much pleasure, confirmed the improvement, however miniscule it has been. She is very proud of you, and he is too. “I only want one thing for breakfast.” 

Her hands begin to roam, the band of her wedding ring hitting your pubic bone. “Mi vida, one more time won’t hurt,” she mocks you from before but in her sexier, Spanish husk, sucking at your collarbone, straddling your waist.

You replace your near moan with a thoughtful hum. “I really want pancakes. Do you think they’ll make me some?”

Downstairs, where it is brighter and impossible to conceal the hickeys on both of your necks, you greet your parents, brother, Anya, and Gio. Alexia’s mother, her sister, and Jenni are sitting at the table, too. Your baby is pretending he isn’t teething, and grinning like an angel. 

“How’s married life?” Anya asks as you take a seat opposite her, Alexia to your right. The table has a gradient of bilingualism, but Gio discovered that she picks up Spanish quite easily considering she can already speak one romance language. “We’ve already found, like, four articles talking about it.” 

“How?” you ask, but you are not offended. 

Gio shrugs. “Drones, I guess. Nothing bad, though. Some speculation about the other bride – if the article does mention that. Most talk is on the dress.” It was a bloody good dress. “And I suspect that there’ll be a juicy little question about who was your Maid of Honour.” 

“Don’t be salty,” you tell her. The MOH issue was sorted out years ago – perhaps 2015 – when you binged Friends together despite having watched it thousands of times before. Anya has been yours, Gio will be hers, and you will be Gio’s. And they say trios never work. 

“I left Mia with her dad for this.” 

“You shouldn’t have had a baby with a man-slag,” Anya says with a snort, enjoying her second mimosa and Gio’s grimace at the idea of her daughter having to put up with her father’s revolving door of one-night-stands. “You’re one to make terrible decisions. At least our girl over here’s married someone who looks at her like she’s hung the moon.” 

Alexia turns to you with a smile, as if on cue, with Nico in her lap. You glance at his rounded cheeks and shining eyes, looking back up at your friends as though to check they are still there. Alexia leans forwards so that she can whisper in your ear. “Te amo. Nico, también. Mi familia es perfecta.” 

…

Returning to Barcelona comes with one negotiated condition on your part. You buy a bigger apartment, where there is space for an office and extra bedrooms. Alexia says her teammates will be taking the piss out of her grand new place the minute she sees it, but she is more than content to contribute to the finances with her new-and-improved salary for this season. “It’s weird to think that I’m from Mollet,” murmurs Alexia, standing in the middle of the large lounge area, surrounded by boxes. Most are from your old flat, but a few have been flown in from London. Alexia wanted you to have your Grammy with you. “This place is so fancy.” 

“It’s half of what the men’s team get,” you remind her, holding Nico with care as he gnaws away on a frozen carrot. His saliva drips onto you, but the antidepressants are working, and the therapy has been effective enough for you to start taking childcare in turns. (You had tried to previously, but Alexia wanted you to focus on yourself, knowing that things will change for all of you once the season started.) “Hey.” You place your hand on her shoulder. She tickles Nico’s chin. “We deserve this. You deserve this. Why don’t you host one of your team’s dinners? I’ll take Nico round to your mum’s – God knows she’d love to shove some food down my throat, too.” 

She shakes her head, strands of brown unstraightened due to the stress of the move and falling out of her bun with a determination to defy her hair bobble. “They would kill me if I did it without you. They’re all far too grateful that you invited Taylor Swift to our wedding.” 

“She’s a friend.” If you hadn’t been distracted by various other happenings that night, you’d have clocked that Alexia’s side of the guests were completely up to their ears in celebrities they’d never expected to meet. “Okay, so do you want me to stay here?” 

“I always want you to stay here,” she answers. 

“Not what I meant.” 

“I won’t take it back.” 

Nico babbles an incoherent yet cutely Spanish-y noise, though his words are getting closer to being said at the old age of eight months. Then, suddenly, something in him clicks. “Mama,” he squeals, his little fist scrunching up the fabric of your t-shirt. “Mamama.”

“Nicolau!” Alexia replies with just as much enthusiasm, cupping his cheeks. She kisses his nose, and then his forehead, and then his chubby knees and socked feet. “Nicolau, sí, la mama et té a las mans! Bon noi, el meu bon i intel·ligent noi.” 

“Does that count?” 

“Mama,” Nico repeats, tugging your earlobe. “Mama. Mama.” It is easy to forget about the (lessening) resentment you harbour when he speaks. Alexia gets him to say it as many times as she can before he goes back to his carrot, but, even then, the two of you stay in that spot, marvelling at your creation. 

Slowly, she turns around in a circle, absorbing the plain walls and towers of boxes. “This is going to be good. Life is going to be good,” you declare with such a firmness that it has to be true. “Darling, let’s get to unpacking and then we can think about a date for this dinner party.” 

“We are going to plan the party?” She raises her eyebrows at you. “Is this party going to start at five o’clock?” 

“Not all of us shit yellow and red.” (In a national sense – you’d have haemorrhoids for United any day of the week.)

Alexia takes Nico off you, in a show of cultural dominance. You’re actually outnumbered, considering he isn’t a British Citizen, and though he shares no DNA with your wife, he has inherited the same ability to narrow his eyes just enough to serve absolute cunt whenever he so pleases. If you weren’t feeling so ganged up on, you’d be a little impressed. “Nico y yo vamos a hacer croquetas de jamón. Adiós.” 

“Darling, the kitchen isn’t–” But you cut yourself off, deciding that she can discover that on her own, along with the criminally empty fridge. You don’t hide your smugness at all when she finds you in your almost-finished bedroom, wearing a look of utter disappointment and mumbling out a heartbroken request for a food delivery as soon as possible. 

…

November marks three years of being together and, also, four weeks of having Alexia’s ‘DNA’ – a pomeranian called Nala, whose Instagram account is run by her favourite parent after you called it silly and told your wife you’d much rather attend to your own seventeen million followers. 

Towards the end of the month, after a well-spent morning and then a family outing to Barcelona Zoo, Alexia meets Jenni Hermoso in a restaurant in what Jenni calls ‘your new rich-people neighbourhood’ in her text to Alexia.

Alexia, really and truly, is happy to have her best friend back in Barcelona. She missed her last year, when Jenni had returned to Atleti, and that separation maybe made what happened the night Spain was knocked out of the World Cup just that bit more understandable. “You’re a Culer, no matter how hard you try to fight it,” Alexia had said when she had climbed back into her own bed, not wanting to fall asleep in Jenni’s arms. “It was terrible to not have Y/n or you.” 

You and Jenni: Alexia’s people. 

“How’s your wife?” Jenni asks with a grin, two glasses of wine into a pleasant evening at an expensive restaurant. “You’ve left her with Nico, so something must be working.” 

In truth, you have been determined to get better. There were articles released not long after the photos of your wedding were circulated, and those speculated a lot about how you are finding motherhood. The baby pictured, captured by long-range lenses and invasive drones, was the world’s first glimpse at what Nico Putellas L/n looks like, and reminded many of them that you had a child to care for when in London, yet were frequently spotted at nightclubs and parties. You rise to most challenges, however, and find it a lot easier to adapt to weekly therapy sessions and pills every morning when you have a wrongful image to disprove. 

“It’s as if it never happened,” Alexia says, both with pride and surprise. “She now seeks to spend time with him. She takes him with her to the recording studio – the album’s coming along well.” It’s your first on your own. Nico plays with one mixing desk, while Dave (flown in from London with the promise that the Barcelona sun will do wonders for his wife’s misery) plays with another. “And… Jenni, we’ve been talking. The clinic that we used for Nico asked us if we wanted to reserve sperm when we first had him, and now they have called asking if now is a good time. I think… I think that she is really considering it. She told me yesterday that her therapist wants me to sit in on the next session, so we can go over how we can make this time different.” 

Jenni frowns, which is not what the woman opposite her had expected at all. “Why are you two having more children? You’re only twenty-five, Ale. Isn’t this going to affect your career?” 

“The men do it all the time.” She’s done a spot of research. They are younger than her when their girlfriends start getting pregnant, and they continue to play with the added admiration that they are fathers as well. 

“Yes, but they have the benefit of getting paid millions. They don’t have to fight with their federation for pitches or pay, and they can focus on football without their career sparking controversy for even existing.” 

“Then my children will grow up with a mother who fights for change.” 

“Or they grow up with a pop star who only wants things she cannot have and a footballer who can’t spend any time with them because she is too busy speaking at various conventions so that the next league match isn’t cancelled.”

“Jenni, do you think your opinion would be different if Y/n was a man?” 

This elicits laughter from the other woman, who rolls her eyes in a way that can only be described as condescending. “Alexia, you’re forgetting that I’m a lesbian too, which is a magnificent feat.” Jenni references the kiss they shared, and what happened after that. “But, no. I don’t. I want you to be the greatest footballer in the world, and you want that too. What are you going to do when Y/n tells you she wants to move back to England? Are you going to give up your future here for her?” 

The waiter interrupts briefly, collecting their empty plates and carting them off with a mission to retrieve the bill after a sharply declined offer for the dessert menu. “You don’t even know if that will happen,” Alexia scoffs, though she is a little sad that her exciting news hasn’t been well-received. “I was going to say that I’d think about the name Jennifer if it ends up being a girl, but now I’m leaning more towards María…”

She is kicked under the table, and she has to hold in her cry of pain because this restaurant is one of your favourite places to eat. “Mapi cannot have this victory over me. She’d be insufferable. Ale, you simply aren’t allowed to do that.” There’s another kick, but it is more playful this time. 

Alexia laughs, smiling and thankful that the tension has diffused. “I’m only joking. Y/n has a list scribbled in the back of her lyric book. She’ll probably be called Elena.” That is much more acceptable to Jenni’s ears, and she files that information away for next year, when she’ll tell Mapi that Alexia doesn’t like her name.

…

It works. Alexia and you are lucky. The doctor tells Alexia that, if she were a man, the two of you would have to be extremely careful. Your wife marvels at your ability to destroy your body and stay fertile, but she supposes that you are not the kind of woman to be a lesbian. Sometimes, she wakes up in a cold sweat, believing that you have changed your mind and left her. 

The New Year is a fresh start. Alexia decides to fix the (not so) hidden cracks in your relationship. She confides in her newly-acquired therapist. She may have made a mistake once; the secret is sandwiched between her worries about your susceptibility to depression and how Nico is a decided food critic. 

Though the therapist, a lovely bilingual woman named Sofía, raises her eyebrows, she does not pry. She slides a paper calling card over to Alexia. The paper squeaks along the coffee table between the two comfortable armchairs of the office. “I specialise in couples. Seeing as your wife is already a client of mine, I think you should consider a joint session.” Alexia is new to the idea of mental health. Before, she had been too focused on football to care about it. Even when her father died, any professional she spoke to was only hearing how her mind worked because she knew it was what was best for her performance. “And, Alexia.” She looks up at the therapist with a small, nervous smile. “Congratulations on the pregnancy. I am sure Nico will make a wonderful older brother.” 

Morning sickness drags you out of your shared bed most days. 

Alexia asks you about couples’ therapy when you have finished your dry-heaving one morning. 

“I mean,” you begin before pausing, gulping down the sour taste in your mouth and hoping nothing else is trying to hit the toilet water until tomorrow. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise.” She is dressed in her training kit, but she slings her jumper over your shoulders as soon as you shiver. “Do you think it’s a good idea?” 

“It would do no harm.” As long as Sofía does not bring up Alexia’s confession, your statement will ring true. “You book the appointment. It’ll be easier to work around your schedule that way.” 

“When are you flying back to London?” Her question is not filled with hatred for the city, but with resignation to the fact that your job involves you being stretched between here and there. 

“Not until next month. I thought that I could take Nico to an away game with my dad if I got a flight for Saturday. The rest of the week would be interviews and photoshoots.” 

“How’s the album doing?” 

So far, your songs are only written when Alexia has paid you enough attention to swirl your thoughts and blur your vision. It is in these moments that the lingering, sinking weight inside of you dissipates. “Dave remains hopeful. It won’t fail, but I need it to be better than what we currently have.” 

Shamelessly, Alexia is aware of her effect on your songs. She smirks; “Alba has been begging to babysit, you know.” With no care for your current state, Alexia’s eyes rake up and down your body. You grow embarrassed by how you are slumped over the toilet, and how she is standing above you as though she runs your world. “You look beautiful, mi amor,” she murmurs as you bashfully duck your head between your bent arms. 

“You’re a flirt.” It feels too late for her to still be in the flat. “And you’re going to miss training if you don’t get a move on. There are eggs in the fridge, and Nico definitely liked the omelette you made him a few days ago. He’ll be waking up soon.”

A small sigh escapes the midfielder’s lips, but the prospect of the things she loves most in the world appearing in her life consecutively is enough to convince her to pad her way out the bathroom, swanning into the corridor with a little grin on her face as she sings out ‘bon dia’ to an impressively multilingual toddler and heads into the kitchen with the domestic intention of getting breakfast started. She leaves an omelette out for you, which you attack shortly after Alexia and Nico disappear into their daily routine. She drops him off at preschool, and you pick him up a few hours later, taking him first for lunch with Alba, and then to the studio. 

You come home to a showered Alexia who is memorising her most recent match. She lets Nico slide into her lap without hesitation, but she stays focused on the football even when he tugs on the strands of hair falling out of ponytail. You marvel at the idea of having enough room in your heart for so much love. You decide that you are not like Alexia, though it is not necessarily a terrible thing. A further observation from watching your wife settle her son with a calm, muttered Catalan telling-off, coaxing him into loving football as though he does not already, is that you are so very content with your life at the moment. 

But 2020 kind of sucks. 

For the entire world. 

You’re cut off from your home in any other manner than a digital one, and being stuck in a luxurious penthouse in Barcelona isn’t the worst fate, but it really isn’t ideal. 

Elena, however, has the benefit of coming into the world with ever (physically) present parents, who could recite the java script for Zoom given that they spend hours on therapy calls. Elena, bright and smiley and the picture of her mother, spends the first few months of her life in a happy, happy family, protected by an entire football team and a fierce older brother. (And a yappy Pomerianian called Nala.) 

“Y/n doesn’t like the name María,” Jenni tells Mapi when Alexia sends the first picture of your new addition to the Barcelona group chat. 

“The next baby is going to be a Jennifer,” Mapi says, to both the forward and the unimpressed midfielder walking a few paces in front of such a silly conversation. “For that, I can only feel sorry for her.” 

…

The routine changes the following year. 

It starts with an abrupt but expected conversation. One that Alexia has been dreading. 

Your album – the first one that is just you – was released two months ago, and it has done too well. Selfishly, Alexia had hoped it would fail. You have enough money, and she is earning more and more each season. Success, unfortunately, means that this little life can no longer exist. Or can it? 

“I have to do it,” you whisper to her, tears in your eyes though the smell of sex still lingers. The quietness of a child-free apartment allows for you to hear her gulp. “It’ll be different this time, darling, but I can’t be here anymore. I can’t fly out to London every few days. I can’t leave you with a five-month-old and a toddler when you are training every day and playing matches every weekend. It’s not fair on anyone.” 

Alexia kisses your bare shoulder, hands slipping round your waist as she pulls your sweaty body into her. Her chest presses against your back, but she is only behind you in this bed. She does not agree with you. She does not support it. But, like she always does, she bites her tongue. “If that’s what you want,” she replies, and part of you dies with the thought that she does not really care. “I love you. I want what’s best for you. For us.” And she tells Jenni all about it when she goes to see her a week later – the flimsy excuse of meeting a childhood friend for dinner enough to wrap a cloth around your eyes and leave you at home with a screaming toddler and a baby whose only flaw is that she grows distraught the moment she is put down. 

In the dimly lit living room, the tension hangs thick in the air. You lock eyes. “Why can't you just move with us? Everyone will want you, darling, and life would be easier,” you plead, a month down the line. The house in Highgate has been readied for your more permanent return. 

Alexia takes a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. “Why can't you get it into your head that I'm not leaving Spain or Barcelona? This is my home.”

“What about the children? School? Life? My career? Does it mean nothing to you?”

Her eyes soften. Your heart breaks, and the piece of you that has already died somehow dies again. “I'm thinking of the children. All the time, I think of them. About the reputation of my name – their name. Putellas, the greatest in the world, or Putellas, the one with potential wasted at West Ham?”

“You're being selfish, Lex,” you snap. “This is an opportunity for all of us, not just me. Think about their future!”

“Their future is here, in the culture they know, the languages they speak. I won't strip them of their identity for the sake of a 'better' life. And my career? I've worked too hard to build what I have here. I won't throw it away.” I don’t want to throw it away. Underscored by Don’t leave me again. 

The room echoes with the weight of her voice. “Their identity comes from both of us.” It’s too final for either of your liking. Elena begins to cry in her cot. “I want to try it. I want you to be open to trying it.” 

She gestures to the suitcases by the door. “Trying it and doing it are two different things. You’re taking them from me!” 

“You’re probably going to love life without them anyway!” you shout. You feel like the crying baby, except the tears rolling down your cheeks carry much more suffering than hers. “You’ll – what? You’ll go out with your friends, and you’ll be able to go to the gym whenever you want. No arguing, no crying, no toddler to entertain, no nappies to change. You never wanted children. I forced it upon you. I regret it, and I’m sorry. We’ll go.”

“Don’t go.” 

I don’t want you to go.

“I have to.” 

You turn your back to her as you fly through the corridor, prepared to console Elena in a taxi. Alexia slips her ring off her finger, and clutches it in her palm instead. Desperately, she searches for a solution. There is nothing within her reach, not even you. 

… 

She is an island amongst a sea of happy people. She is going to be the greatest footballer in the world. It kills her to realise that she can now focus on football. 

Nico starts nursery, attending the same school you once did. He adjusts to life in London seamlessly, and Elena does not seem to care either way. He learns more English every day, and his other mother calls him nightly to read to him. 

With childcare more than sorted, you are free to be interviewed, pictured, and invited to events. You rake in the publicity, especially after laying so slow over the course of the lockdown in Spain. 

“Alexia.” Jenni’s hands knead her tight shoulders, partly teasing her. Alexia wears a frown, eyebrows knitting together with an emotion she’s not sure she can name. “Ale, it’s the same game as always. Nothing has changed.” 

“I know,” she murmurs. “I don’t understand why I feel like this.” She has continued to speak to Sofía, though your joint sessions have now come to a halt while you spend your time doubling as a singer and model. The therapist, try as she might, cannot evaluate the situation effectively enough. Eli and Alba have both tried to help, hoping that weekly dinners and the constant reminder about the invention of aeroplanes would ease the turmoil of Alexia’s mind. It does not. “I am so alone, Jenni.”

Nala is too small to fill the emptiness of the flat. Screens don’t allow for her to kiss you, or play with Nico. She is scared she will miss Elena’s first words. 

“You don’t have to be.” 

It only takes a month for Alexia to break, and it sort of works. 

In Jenni’s bed, it works. Hips keening, soft pants falling from her mouth. 

Quiet moans that stay locked in Jenni’s apartment. 

Each time Alexia leaves, though Jenni repeatedly requests that she stays, she walks out as half a woman. She blinks back her tears and she checks her phone. When she calls you – not a video call – you are never any the wiser to the scratches down her back. 

Alexia remains an island, but the sand beaches are tainted with the arrival of someone else. 

In this way, she is functional. 

She can do sex. She can deal with borderline romance. She can fill the space that you are tearing open with every passing minute spent in that god-awful country you insist on calling home. She can fix it a little bit with Jenni. 

She tells herself that it does not mean anything more than a bandage means to a wound. Who wears the bandage once the gash has healed? 

Where does she put the used bandage? 

Why is she focused on bandages?! She’s having an affair. It’s not an affair! (It is.) Alexia doesn’t… quite… wanttoadmititjustyet.

…

The buzz of your phone is the final push that gets you to conclude the current interview you are trapped in. Before checking what the notification is, you glance at the time. You have half an hour before you need to pick up Nico, and your parents said they would drop Elena home once they returned from London Zoo. 

Alexia: Jenni has had a really good idea 

It’s an intriguing text amongst the more practical ones that oil the mechanics of managing the distance. Tonight, Barcelona play their last match of the season. After this, she’ll be flying out to London. You have missed her. The last time you saw her in person was after Barcelona embarrassed Chelsea in Gothenburg. Elated and filled with pride, it was incredibly nice to have the biggest room in the hotel to yourselves. Her medal was almost as beautiful as her. 

You: Go on…

Alexia: Just draw a heart on Nico’s hand from me porfa. You’ll see. 

You slide into the driver’s seat of your newest self-indulgent car; a Porsche. Momentarily distracted by a camera flash, your turn onto the main road is a little risky, but you manage to make it to the school in time to collect your son. 

“Was he good?” you ask his teacher as she hands you Nico’s book bag. You take in the sight of him: hair messy, school uniform stained though they require the little ones to wear aprons for most of the day. “It’s a little different here. I’m hoping that he’s enjoying himself.” 

“Our new assistant is from Spain,” says the teacher with a small, tired smile, batting her long eyelashes at you. “We had to pry him off her.” 

You let out a laugh. “He misses his mum.” 

“He’s extremely intelligent. He knew to speak Spanish to her and English to us.” Though your grasp of Spanish is near-fluent after such reluctance from your wife to try English, you know that the two-year-old has a talent for juggling the three languages he is growing up around. You’re proud of him. “You shouldn’t worry about him. And, speaking of, we have a parents’ coffee morning just around the corner. It’s always great for the parents to get along – it helps the school feel even more like a family. Will it just be you attending?” Nico’s teacher is around your age, and you can smell her rose perfume that mingles with the soft hint of ready-mixed paint. She has deep, brown eyes, and she is definitely flirting with you. 

“Next week, right? I’ll have to check with my wife.” 

It’s then that a toddler-sized hand grips your fingers and tugs. “Mama, me voy,” he groans; something akin to Alexia’s impatience. It reminds you of when you used to go shopping and she’d herd you out with the threat of getting in the car and driving away. “Venga.” 

“One sec, sweetheart.” There are countless ways in which you miss Alexia. “My wife and I would love to come.” 

Her smile does not falter on her lips, but there is a greyish disappointment that dulls the warmth of her irises. You smile as you turn your back and lead Nico to the car. You are so excited for Alexia to complete the broken puzzle. 

You melt when she kisses the heart drawn onto her hand when celebrating her goal. Nico copies her, lips pursing and sloppily mimicking the action on a similar heart. “For you, sweetheart,” you tell him as he settles back into your side, careful not to jostle Elena who has fallen asleep on your chest (the therapist did wonders for you). 

“It was for you,” Jenni tells Alexia after the match. Her goal is now serving as the move Alexia feared she’d make. They have changed and been massaged and done the media the are required to do (women’s football is growing): they are free to roam Barcelona if they so wish. 

Her flight is tomorrow evening – “I have a flight tomorrow evening.” 

“Come over tonight.” It isn’t a question, yet it is not quite a command. Mapi passes the two of them, eyes narrowing at the way Jenni has wrapped her hand around Alexia’s wrist. The defender is aware that something is going on, though it breaks her heart to imagine Alexia ever doing that to you. Not knowing they are being watched, Alexia steps in; cups Jenni’s face, brushes her cheekbone with a stroke of her thumb Mapi knows is meant for her wife. Mapi’s stomach lurches. She feels sick. 

“I need to…” It’s not a ‘no’. “Jenni.” She hates that it is not a ‘no’. 

“Ale.” There’s a beat. Mapi blinks twice, shakes her head, and backs away. “I’ll miss you, you know?” 

… 

Jenni doesn’t seem to mind when, the next day, blurry pictures of you on a family outing make rounds through the tabloids she usually doesn’t read. The fact that, up until now, no one has known that your wife is Alexia Putellas has no effect on her. She was stupid for thinking the last six months meant something. Winning together, losing together. Sleeping together. 

In this deal, Alexia has fucked over both women who love her. Except, you don’t know. She hasn’t told you, though Jenni had hoped for it secretly – hoped Alexia chose her – and it is obvious. Obvious to Jenni, who is well acquainted with the blonde hair in the wings of your concert at the O2. Obvious to Jenni, who refuses to think of herself as the other woman. 

She consults Mapi. 

Mapi, who she has come to shamefully realise already knows. 

“I can’t believe the two of you.” The defender is clear in her distaste and disappointment and, honestly, her disgust. “But I am not going to be the one to break that poor girl’s heart.” 

“I’m not asking you to.” 

What is she asking? What does she want from this utterly useless conversation? 

“Mapi.” Jenni closes her eyes, but she sees two faces instead of darkness. Nico. Elena. She’s Elena’s godmother. You decided that – convinced Alexia to choose her best friend over her younger sister, told your wife that there’d be another for Alba to corrupt. “Mapi, I love her. I don’t know what to do.” 

“She loves her wife.” The next sentence proceeds to brutally remind Jenni who that isn’t. “Tell her you’re done. Find someone else. Anyone but her.” 

That is Jenni’s resolve, because she knows that Mapi is right. 

… 

June, July, and August pass with bliss. 

Everyone says that you are a beautiful couple with beautiful children. Alexia beams with pride as she flaunts her practised English, and gladly claims ownership of Nico when he wins a prize on speech day. Every child in Reception is awarded something but that doesn’t stop her from boasting.

She explores the country with the children while you shack up in the recording studio, and brings hugs and kisses (and Red Bull) every evening after dinner. The visits are what reminds you of the sun Alexia brings, especially as the warmth follows her from Barcelona and London is blessed with golden days. Dog days. 

“This isn’t permanent.” Alexia looks up from her phone, comfortable in your bed. The house in Highgate has flecks of Spain woven into the decor now, and you like it that way. 

You climb into the bed beside her, and her arm lifts so that you can snuggle into her chiselled stomach (wow, she has been working hard this season). “What’s Jenni saying?” you ask, following your statement and hoping you’ll get her attention. She presses her phone screen into the duvet before you can translate the message – it is too long of a paragraph for you to handle. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you that this isn’t permanent.” 

Alexia, over the past few months, has been the most affectionate, loving, amazing person with the same smile and giggle you married. You thought she had disappeared and was replaced with stern, career-focused Alexia Putellas, jugadora del fútbol. You were wrong. 

“I’m thinking January is when we’ll come back. Nico’s English will survive.” Your parents are going travelling. They’ve never been on the Orient Express before. “I want to be with you.” 

It is a good thing Jenni has just broken up with her. 

“I love you,” you continue. “So much.” 

Alexia hums. Her heart breaks, and she does not know for whom. “¿En serio?” She is happy, she thinks. Certainly, she is glad that the four of you will be reunited. 

 You are. 

January 2022 ruins things for Jenni Hermoso. She calls Pachuca back. 

[drksanctuary]

Nicobaster: Soulmates/games

For day two I did a collaboration with @thomas-life and we did a combination of both prompts:

And a hastily written and edited little excerpt for ya:

Alabaster sifts through the last of what must've been 30 decks of Mythomagic cards.

"Ah! Found him.! Aevin Lackluster: Master Spellcaster. Edition 4. From the Medieyval Myth campaign. He was and perhaps still is my favorite from that series. A lot of the other editions didn't have actual characters...so it was exciting at the time." Alabaster shrugs non-chalantly but his eyes are practically beaming at the card. As if he's holding a literal piece of his childhood self. And Maybe he is.

Nico grins at him from his seat on the floor. He's hunched over his own mess of cards, looking much like a dragon guarding its hoard of treasure. Cards haphazardly spill out from under his legs emphasizing just how many he has... Alabaster briefly wonders where he had he been keeping them all.

"Not a bad card," Nico agrees, "but he's nothing compared to Myra Darkweave, Necromancer Queen, also from Edition 4." Nico holds up one of the cards, and turns it to face Alabaster. She holds a skull in one hand. Her crown is either silver or bone, and around her neck is a familiar green necklace.

Alabaster examines it. Myra’s picture is one that mostly displays Purple,red and black. But the small splash of green stands out.

“Huh, May I?” He reaches out to take the card.

Nico holds it out for Alabaster to take and feigns scandalized gasp, "You don't have her card? how can you call yourself a fan?"

Alabaster plucks the card from Nico's fingers, careful not to bend or rip it.

"She never came up in the packs I had." He says, shaking his head. "I could only get what I could steal"

Nico continues smirking at him.

Al rolls his eyes. "So annoying" he says. /but attractive/ he thinks.

Nico snorts and starts picking through his cards, organizing them by...color? Alabaster raises an eyebrow at the choice, but seeing as in order to play they'd have to shuffle them anyway he supposes its as good a way as any.

Nico speaks without looking at him, that insufferable smug look refusing to leave his face, "I got a lot of my cards in the Lotus hotel." The smirk drops a little but come back full force a moment later, "I won them by beating the older kids" he snickers, "they were so mad getting bean by a 10 year old...its one of my greatest accomplishments." He preens.

"So you've always been this maddening?" Alabaster quips, as he compares their favorite cards side by side. Imagining Nico as a 10 year old sends shivers down his spine...shivers of dread. They'd probably have hated eachother.

Or perhaps they'dve been friendly Rivals. Alabaster remembers himself at 12.../nah probably enemies actually/. He chuckles to himself and diverts his attention back to the cards and Myra’s green necklace. The pattern and design of it is unmistakable. He looks over to Aevin's card to see that he is wearing that same green necklace.

"D'you...." Alabaster considers. He doesn't remember the lore concerning that particular item. Which is maddening considering he usually knows these things offhand. Was it part of some group?

"Look at this" Al continues. "They both have the same necklace... I can't recall what it signifies... do you know what it's for?"

Nico pauses in his organizing to look at the cards, beautiful dark eyes focusing under thick eyelashes. Alabaster bites the inside of his lip to recenter himself, so he doesn't just start staring at Nico Di Angelo like a looney.

"I think I remember that it was some sort of gift?" Nico shrugs, "or a prize?" Or was it a prized-posession? Nico hates being dyslexic, but honestly he was also 10 when he tried to read it so his memory might be faulty.

Alabaster hums. "I see. Well!" He whips out his trusty enchanted glasses that help him read. "Maybe I can look it up."

He pulls out an mythomagic handbook that is so worn that Nico might've mistaken it for an ancient artifact.

He flips through tissue thin pages. "Ah, here we are" Aevin's necklace was made by him, he carved protection runes on the back of the pendant to keep the wearer safe. (Plus 5 defense and plus 2 evasion). So it's a protection necklace...but why is it..." Alabaster’s eyes travel to a small fact box on the side of the page. "When he got married he gifted it to his beloved wife...Myra Darkweave. Who gave him her bracelet in exchange. To solidify them as soulmates through the ages..."

Alabaster looks over to Nico. /what a coincidence/ he thinks. That those two are their favorites...

@them-awesome-rarepairs please accept our late submission 😅 thank you!!!

[hischierdevils]

I was thinking that maybe a cute lil blurb for the forget series would be Nico taking care of all 3 of the boys by himself and calling Jack or maybe Dougie to help him out! And y/n comes home to find all her boys passed out on the bed together lol or something. I feel like having 3 boys is so overwhelming!!

“I pumped earlier so everything is in the freezer when Cam’s hungry. Ben needs his ear drops again at noon and Al-“

“Babe.” Nico takes the blanket you were folding out of your hands. “I can take care of the boys, I am their Dad you know.”

“I know.” You give your husband a nervous smile. The season just ended and this is the first time Nico will be alone with the boys since Cam was born two months ago. “but…”

“But nothing.” Nico says as there’s a knock at the door. “You deserve a day to yourself. We will be okay.”

“I get!!” Alex runs toward the door, opening it before you or Nico can stop him.

“Hey little man.” Dougie grins down at your oldest.

“Dougie!” Ben, who’s been laying on the couch with an ear infection for the last two days, jumps up and runs to Dougie.

You glance at your husband. “You called for back up already?”

“Jack was busy.” He shrugs.

“I’m here too!” Abby smiles as she walks into your apartment behind Dougie. “Where’s my hugs?” Alex and Ben run to her, each giving her a quick hug before running back to Dougie.

“Say bye to mommy, boys.” Nico tells the two oldest as he bends down to take Cam out of his swing.

“You can’t go mommy!” Ben runs to you and hugs your leg tightly. The boys are usually all about their dad until they’re sick, then they want you.

Your lip wobbles as you make eye contact with Nico and he shakes his head. “Ben, mommy needs to go with Abby. She’ll be back later.”

Alex gives you a hug and then pulls his brother away from you. “Bye mommy.”

“Bye buddy be good for Daddy and Dougie.” You give Nico a quick kiss and then kiss Cam’s cheek before heading to the door with Abby.

The two of you spend the day in New York City, talking and shopping like you used to when you both lived in Manhattan. It’s a nice day for you to get out of the house and get to be y/n again. A day out with your best friend is exactly what you needed to feel normal again.

Even though you had a good time, you’re excited to get home and see your boys. It’s suspiciously quiet when you walk in and only Dougie sits on your couch.

“Where are they?” You ask him as you set all of your bags down by the door.

Dougie grins as he gets up and meets you. “Nico laid them all down for a nap about half an hour ago and I haven’t seen him since.” He chuckles.

You smile. “Thank you for helping him.”

“Of course.” Dougie bends down to kiss your cheek. “I love the little guys. I’ll see you guys later.”

You wave goodbye to him as he leaves and then you make your way to Alex and Ben’s shared bedroom. Nico moved Cam’s bassinet in the room and the baby is sleeping soundly inside. Nico is sprawled out on his back in Alex’s twin bed with Alex and Ben tucked under each arm.

They’re all snoring lightly and you can’t help but laugh at how similar all four of them look as they sleep. You gently give each one of them a kiss and Nico stirs softly as you pull away from them.

“Hey, baby. Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah.” You giggle. “Did they tire you out?”

“I don’t know how you do this everyday.” He groans as Alex stretches, kicking Nico in the rib.

“I think it’s time to start looking for houses, Ni.” You tell him as you look around the small room with two twin beds in it. Cam has been sleeping in his bassinet in your room but he won’t be little forever. “We need more room for the kids.”

“For more kids?” He winks at you and you roll your eyes.

“Enjoy your nap, Hisch.” You wave to him as you back out of the room. “You’re stuck there until they wake up.”

[bwoahtastic]

Toto confronting Seb and Lewis for how they treated Max. Nico is furious and wants to chew them up but he’s got Max in a nest and trying his best to calm his boy down. Max is struggling to accept comfort because he thinks he deserved it. He thinks he’s so bad. He’s curled in on himself and sobs into a pillow. Nico tries to soothe him with a hand in his hair but the poor pup flinches away and cries harder. Nico wants to rip Lewis and Seb apart for making Max feel this way. Toto does a decent job of it, he doesn’t raise his voice but his words are harsh. He grits out that they have no idea what that boy has been through, they have no idea how much damage has been done and how they’ve just destroyed every little bit of progress he’s made. Toto makes it clear that Charles is always welcome at their house but Max will not be coming over because they can’t trust them around him. Lewis tries to argue back that they can’t let Charles around a young alpha it’s dangerous. Toto loses his cool, tells them that they know exactly what an alpha is capable of, that Max knows it very well, it’s been inflicted on him too many times. It shuts Lewis up. Seb carefully asks if Max is okay, but Toto is not willing to sugarcoat it for them and tells them no. Max is not okay. They’ve amplified all of the self loathing Max has. Charles overhears and starts to cry too. He’s so angry at his parents, why didn’t they just give Max a chance. Back home Max just moves on autopilot. He doesn’t talk at all. He stays in bed all day. Nico has to force him to eat something. The only time he gets up is to sit outside and smoke. His eyes have gone blank, he just stares off into space as he smokes. Toto and Nico sit with him. They don’t want him to be alone. They’re so angry at these strangers for giving Max such a big set back. They haven’t seen him like this before. They turn Charles away when he shows up, a sad smile that Max isn’t able to take a visitor. Charles is furious at his parents and now they feel awful for how they behaved

Oh plss Nico trying to comfort max but Max won't allow himself any comfort. He is a bad Alpha, not able to be trusted ans just just so bad! Nico tries to hold his poor pup but Max shies away, crying silently and holding his arms curled around himself. Nico is going al feral momma ready to kill seb and Lewis but Toto goes over for obvious reasons and does a good job staying calm as he asks to talk to them about Max

He tells them how Max was in such a bad place when they found him and how he was doing so well at improving until today. He was starting to get more comfortable and confident anf accepted comfort and love and even dared to start seeing Charles even though he barely trusts himself snd was so sure he would hurt Charles (he never did, he is incredibly sweet and respectful). Max has so much self loathing and it's so much worse now, all progress gone. Toto makes sure they know max can't come over here anymore, he doesn't trust them with his boy! Lesis snapping back thst they also can't trust Charles alone with a young Alpha it's too dangerous, bur quickly shutting up when Toto let's it slip max knows how dangerous Alphas can be, it's be inflicted on him snd the reason he hates himself so much.

Pls seb and Lewis would feel so guilty, rightfully so, and Charles is so upset with them, not understanding because they are so nice with everyone normally! It definitely causes a lot of tension between them too.

Meanwhile max is just a shell of himself, sleeping most of the day and only eating and drinking when Nico asks him too. He only.goes outside to sit curled up on the porch and smoke, but slowly let's his parents closer again snd Nico almost cries the first time Max let's.him stroke his hair again.

It pains them to send charles away but Max isn't ready, and when,he finally is, they leave the two,alone for a moment and return to see Max asleep with his head in Charles's lap🥺🥺

[nakamurastorrington]

OMG THANK YOU FOR BEING SO NICE ;;;;; Here's my prompt:

Shortly after the end of the Titans War Percy is so adamant about making Alabaster feel like he has a home so he tries to take him to meet his friends and the first one is Nico. And Alabaster is like "I don't want to meet any of your stupid siblings stupid Jackson just LeAvE mE aLoNe" but when Alabaster and Nico see each other for the first time and Percy introduces Alabaster as his reluctant friend, by some reason Nico and Al feel they could get along and the meeting goes surprisingly well.

What do you think?

ik you said nico and alabaster getting along well but. idk theyre both gremlins...

——

"Di Angelo?!"

Nico's soft, doleful features shutter closed like a lemon being wrung of its juices. "Torrington."

"You know each other?" Percy awkwardly laughs, scratching the back of his head.

"Do we know each other? This little shit owes me 20 drachmas!"

"20 drachmas?!"

"Ahem. I'm leaving. Very important Ghost King stuff to attend to..."

"Oh no, the fuck you don't!" Alabaster snarls, and the shadow bleeding across the wall to embrace Nico suddenly juts out, knocking the son of Hades onto his ass. Nico shouts in pain. "What, is the little Prince too broke to cough up the pretty penny he owes me?"

"Nico, why do you owe Al 20 drachmas?!" Percy demands. "That's too much, money doesn't grow on trees!"

"It does for him, he just dips his hand in daddy's mines anyway."

A string of curses leaves Nico. "I'll pay you your winnings—when you don't cheat to earn them!"

"Do you know how hard it is to earn money when—" Alabaster slips into a violent mix of Ancient Greek and Latin, blinding green unfurling from his hands like—

Percy's eyes widen as Nico unsheathes his Stygian Iron sword just in time to block Alabaster's... beam batons? Lightsabers without the saber handles. Glowsticks if they grew out of hands and didn't have a plastic encasing.

Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to introduce these two.

[in2thenewworld]

Hi 👋🏻😊 hope you dont mind me sending my request here instead of PMing you; I'm curious who you'd pair me with :3

I'd like a matchup for a male DMC character. My pronouns are she/her.

Appearance: I'm 5'3", got a full figure body with a round face. I have mid back length, dark chocolate colored hair with down turned eyes of the same color. Under my left eye are 2 freckles that look exactly like this -> : <- I usually wear comfy clothes, but will dress up if I need to. Most of the time I just wear a tshirt with pj pants, or leggings with a tshirt.

Personality: I am introverted, possibly an INFJ, I am more emotional than logical, and am a Gemini

Interests: I like to read, write, and basically do anything creative; I like working with/using my hands to make something, or to help someone out (giving massage, need first aid, etc.) I am also a foodie, love looking up recipes to try and love to cook/bake.

What I look for in a partner is someone who has a sense of humor, knows how to have fun and when to be serious, can make me smile, and are kind-hearted or compassionate. They can be introverted, extroverted, or ambiverted, it dont matter to me as long as I feel I could vibe with them and talk to them about anything.

My love language is physical touch and quality time. I don't really have an ideal date, just staying home with either a cooked meal or takeout would be fine with me as long as I'm with my partner.

heya! however you prefer to send the info is good! and thank you again for the matchup you wrote, i absolutely adored it 🥹

anyway, let’s get into it!

hope you’re alright with a chit chat or monologue, because I’m loading your match!

…ପ( •̤ᴗ•̤ )੭ु⁾⁾.｡.:✽・ﾟ＋

your match is…

NERO!

Nero first met you during his off time between jobs at home in Fortuna. You would probably bump into each other by chance. I can imagine a scenario of you helping out a group of children who were lost perhaps? Nero knows how to help them get back home, so he jumps in to assist you. Then, once it’s just the two of you after all of that, you spark up a conversation, and funnily enough, there’s certainly a spark.

You cross paths a few more times before you eventually decide to make the first move. You bring him a small variety of baked goods when you swing by to ask the big question, and Nero tries to play off like he’s much cooler about the whole thing than he really is.

Nero’s sense of humour often comes in the form of poking fun and being a bit of a tease. You can also make him laugh pretty easily. That being said, he knows when to turn it off, so that’s not an issue.

You can talk to Nero about absolutely anything. He won’t tell a soul if you don’t want him to, and he’s got a level enough head to give good advice to others. Sometimes he might be the type to offer solution before comfort, though, so if you’d rather the latter, you might have to tell him.

Nero would go to hell and back a million times for his loved ones. He’s got a kind heart, and he’ll do almost anything to make you happy. His tone when he speaks with you is softer than with anyone else. It’s almost funny. Alright, it’s hilarious. Nico rinses him to death for it, but she’s always on the receiving end of his sarcasm, so it goes both ways really.

Nico would totally get along with you, though. You’re around her a lot by association with Nero, and if you enjoy hands on tasks you might find yourself in the garage as a project partner quite often.

Nero is totally here for the chilled home dates. He finds it comforting to have this space with you that you can call your own, so there’s not many places he’d rather be. He’ll let you choose the food and a movie, he’s just happy to be there.

Sometimes he’s away for a long time on missions… Luckily, you’re always there to welcome him home with your affection and some form of small gift, favour or a date planned. He brings you back souvenirs too if he gets a job in a new, fascinating place. Think of it as making up for lost time. (You also spend a lot of time together post mission because you’re patching up his wounds and insisting that a massage will ease all of the tension and aches that come from fighting. Not that he’s complaining, he welcomes your touch.)

I hope this is to your liking! :) and to my followers, what do we think of the slight format change?

[amiramorozova]

Sun, Sea, and Shadow pt. 6 -Confrontation with parents-

Recap~

Aleksander looked at my grandma and he said something that bothered me. "Her human attachments are going to hold her back." I just gripped onto Nico's shirt a little tighter. "You're wrong." I said loud enough for everyone to hear. I looked at the other first army soldier who just looked back then I looked at the General moving my hands together as I formed my light barrier around me and Nico. "I can do anything I set my mind to and you won't stop me anytime soon." I assured him

~beginning of the chapter~

I saw the first army soldier look at me in surprise but I was not going to back down to a shadow summoner anytime soon. Aleksander was just looking at me as he looked at the two and then looked at the volunteer. "You'll be standing outside of Mrs. Silina's house and this tracker will be her body guard." Aleksander said as he looked at me and I let the light barrier go. "But the tracker needs to keep his arms off you Amira." Aleksander said as I scoffed.

Not long one of his grisha soldiers came over by a horse and got off as I looked at them. I hadn't moved from Nico but Aleksander looked at him. "General, what are you doing here? There are some people asking for you." Fedyor said as he looked seeing me. I wasn't in the kefta and I was standing with Nico still having his arms around me. "Amira, this is where you are. Why are you not in the little palace?" Fedyor asked as I was about to say something but Aleksander spoke. "Her grandmother has put a stop to her joining us at the little palace, she is to remain here until she is eighteen..and that tracker is her family assigned protector." Aleksander said surprising Fedyor.

I got free from Nico as I started to head in and heard Nico start to follow me. "Good day General, you seem to have things to take care of." I said as I went in and father had walked in. "Inside Amira." Father said as I smiled. "Yes, father." Amira said as we walked in. I stopped though once through the threshold as I saw father staring daggers at him and I smiled knowing that this was not going to be easy either way. "You're Amira's father. I don't think we've met before." Aleksander said as father seemed to be serious at the moment. "We have met before and I think it's best you stay away from my daughter until she's eighteen. I may not have much on the say of what happens but she is my daughter and you're not welcome around her." Father said

"How dare you speak to the General that way." Fedyor said but Aleksander made a motion for Fedyor to stand down. "He has a right to say what he wants, our dual summoner is his daughter. A father is always going to be protective of their daughter, Amira is lucky to still have family unlike the orphans who have lost their own." Aleksander said

Suddenly we heard a horse coming and despite father's words I peeked out seeing it was mother who was coming as she seemed skilled and jumped off so easily. I went over hugging her and she hugged me back as I smiled burying my face in her clothes for the moment though I wasn't a child. So I couldn't see what was going on but I assumed my mother looked up seeing him cause I was listening. "General Kirigan." Mother said

"Amara, I see the story she said is true. You are the mother of the gifted summoner." Aleksander said as her grip almost tightened on me and I wondered how much father had told her. "What business do you have with Amira?" Mother asked as he sighed. "She is the other half of an old pact, but more importantly you both may be her parents but she is my soulmate." Aleksander said as mother took my wrist to check seeing the initials as I adjusted to look. I could see father's initials on her wrist as I knew it wasn't going to be easy.

"The saints deemed this to be true...Alejandro we can't fight what the saints deem." Amara said as Father didn't seem like he was going to says something but he kept his mouth shut for a few moments. "Amara take her inside, Nico is in there. I think we're done here until she's eighteen." Alejandro said as Amara nod leading me back into Grandma's house and despite everything I looked back seeing him wave for now and them leave.

Once inside father was pacing as we all sat in the living room of the house "Her soulmate? Her Grisha soulmate?!" Alejandro said as he looked at his mother. "You just had to make this pact. Now she's not only supposed to marry the heretic, she's his soulmate!" "Don't raise your voice with me, Alejandro." Grandma Catalina said

I got up and walked over to the door way when Nico pulled me to the side "Heretic? As in the Black Heretic?" Nico asked as Amira looked at him "No, Nico..that heretic died. Father is just angry." Amira said as Nico led me to another area where it was just us and he closed the door. "Mira, stop lying. Your grandmother is an ancient Summoner, your father is 430 years old. Are you to wed the black hertic?" Nico asked as I merely looked at him as I walked over to a window and looked out the door. I hated the fact he was the only human I trusted with the truth. He was the only one who knew and never judged us. "Yes, Nico..and I don't have a choice in the matter because grandma made an ancient agreement. It doesn't change the fact he's my betrothed...." Amira said Please don't think the worst of me. I thought

Suddenly I felt arms going around me and I looked up seeing Nico as tears were already forming in my eyes.  "Don't cry Mira. You didn't choose the path the saints are putting before you but you will have my support with your decisions." Nico said as he reached up and wiped my eyes. "Now don't cry. I hate it when you cry."

TagList: @lifeisingrey,  @houseoftoomanyfandoms, @mizelophsun11,     @budugu  

[stackofstories]

Congrats, you’re an omega

*Travis/Nico/Connor

Let me tell you about children of Hermes.

More abundant than Apollo’s little rays of sunshine, the children of Hermes are most normal. Normal, as in, they are known to blend seamlessly into mortal world attracting little attention even the monsters still prowling about. The children of Hermes do not make it into histories, unlike the children of Poseidon, Hades, and Zeus.

Though, there are few exceptions. Lucas Castellan is the exception. The villain from many perspectives his actions reverberated throughout, he forced changes to the Gods most abiding law. Down in the pits of Hades, how will the ever fair judges deem Luke I wonder. He embodies his father, the divine trickster. But, it is not him who is the exception who is the exception. I speak of Travis and Connor Stoll. Yes, the pun is realized and the joke has been done.

It is a rare thing for mortals to hold a god’s attention. They fall fast in love like it’s their first time each time, but just as quick as they are to love, they fall out of love… and that is almost always a ruinous affair. I can’t say what attracted Hermes to the Stolls’ mother twice over. She was no exceptional beauty. Curly brown haired and unusual hazel eyes, she belonged to the X tribe close to Las Vegas, Nevada. There she stayed until she migrated to the Deep South, East Coast where she attended the University of Memphis as both a undergrad and grad student in Archeology and Linguistics. It is there I theorize she met a great deal of interesting people, not the least of which one of the Olympians.

She died.

I told you relationships with gods are often ruinous. Her two young children brought up by her trusted mentor, Professor Djheuty and team of baboons and Ibsis behind him. None of that explains the oddity of Travis and Connor Stoll. They are not divine tricksters as Luke though their tongues are silver as their brother‘s, they gained a lesser trait forgotten amongst the trades they never quite master. Psychopomp.

It is a rare god with the ability to pass through the veils of life and death easily. Even rarer still choose to visit Hades, unsmiling. So he is especially during the Spring and Fall. Hermes leads lost souls to the shores of death and Charon ferries them across. Some share kinship with death as in the case of Travis and Connor, they are few that do not shrink from death.

Perhaps, dear reader, that I arrive at my point.

Travis and Connor Stoll are rare for gaining their father’s death abilities, but also seeing the humanity in death.

I shudder to imagine a lonely child of Hades in the world. For it is a terrible thing.

• Chiron, Personal Journal MMMVI (2006) pp. 330-31.

-

Drew Tanaka marched toward Connor and his brother.

Some things to know. Drew was a child of Aphrodite. Children of Aphrodite did not march. They swayed with a swing in their hips, a fire in their eyes, and a honeyed curl to their lips. Easily the most beautiful lot at Camp Half Blood children of Aphrodite attracted would be heroes and those just as dazzling as themselves. Of course that meant no child of Aphrodite had ever so much as swayed or sneered in Connor or his brother’s direction willingly. Until today.

Connor jabbed Travis with his elbow and dodged the sleepy slap from his newly awakened brother. He sandwiched Travis’ face between his hands as the furrow crinkled between his brows, jerking him in the direction of an oncoming Drew. “Have we done…?” Connor ventured and Travis shook his head, his brown curls like fall leaves trembled against his head.

“Not to them,” Travis said. “Not one of ours.”

Connor sighed. Since Luke left with more than half of their cabin following behind him and leadership duties thrust upon them, ideas fizzled and camp had been depressingly quiet. The icing on the cake had been the loss of Annabeth and the temporary stay of the cootie-scared immortal girl clique.

“Maybe she’s realized what a nice guy I am,” Connor said. “Better than the ultimate Chad.”

“I always thought you were better liar than me, Con. I was wrong.”

“I am a better liar than you,” Con said. “But in what world does a girl like Drew want to talk to us?”

Travis frowned and didn’t answer. Drew stopped her march in front of them and Connor let go of Travis’s face. Up close, Drew was probably the prettiest girl he had ever seen. She looked like a princess with her long raven hair and soft pale skin. Looking into her eyes was a different experience altogether, they changed colors fitfully and deliriously before they settled on an unsettling quicksilver grey.

“Uh… hi,” Travis said.

“Hello,” Drew returned with a frown. So, she didn’t want to talk to them.

“Why did you come over here?” Connor asked.

“Dude!” Travis turned a smile stretching at its corners toward him. It looked like it hurt. Still, his brother widened his blue eyes as if he was ruining some sort of one in the lifetime chance. “I’m sorry he’s being so rude. He doesn’t talk much to girls, pretty girls, at that.”

“I don’t care,” Drew said.

“Told you,” Connor muttered under his breath.

“I came over here because you’re in charge of the unclaimed, right?” she asked.

It was a rhetorical question. Before Luke went turncoat, the Hermes cabin was filled with their siblings and demigods that had never been claimed by parent. The Greeks known for their hospitality, that was one of Dad’s many domains, therefore he welcomed all. For years, there hadn’t been enough space for a Pomeranian let alone an unlucky camper that found out dear absent mommy or daddy was a god. Now, there were actual empty beds – not sleeping bags or cots – in their cabin.

“You know we are,” Connor said.

Drew crossed her arms. “You aren’t doing a very good job. You need to watch him.”

“I love the pronoun game,” Connor said with half a smile glancing at his brother. “Does she mean spooky Torrington. No, he left. How about the two little boys Wyn and Victor — they’re quite lucky — maybe you’re talking about Ethan—“

“You think you’re funny.”

“I get a few laughs,” Connor countered.

“Hmm.” Drew squinted at him. Selina’s eyes were kind, Drew’s suspicious. I’m not talking about any of them. I’m referring to the pipsqueak with the motor mouth.”

“Nico,” Travis said. “What about Nico. If you and your stupid harpies are about to curse him—“

“No one’s messing with him,” Drew interrupted. “No one would dare, but, you’ve noticed he’s changed since he’s been here.”

Again, Connor and Travis mirrored blue. For the first two mornings Nico woke bright eyed and bushy -tailed eager to take on the day. Connor wouldn’t have expected it from a kid that slept like the dead and demanded no lights at bedtime. This morning they woke him and he swam in a pool of his own sweat, dark bags raccooned under his eyes. When he spoke it had been a death rattle of a whisper.

“He was slow this morning. Escaping death from boulders and lava gets a little boring.” Travis said diplomatically.

“Have you smelled him lately?”

“Uh?” said Travis ever the wordsmith.

“I thought betas had the superior scent,” Drew wrinkled her delicate alpha nose. “How is it that you never noticed his scent.”

“We don’t have puppy piles.”

The first of many traditions that went out of the door with Luke’s defection. No more nesting time where all of the Hermes came together before lights out, checked in and groomed each other. Luke said it strengthened their cabin. The warmth left with Luke and Connor did not care to try again. Especially their numbers dwindling by the season.

“Sad,” said Drew with a tone that implied anything but.

“Is that what you came to tell us. Nico smells like cyclops dung?”

Drew rolled her eyes. “He smells like before a thunderstorm.”

“And that’s bad.”

Connor waited for her to explain the obvious.

“Di immortales,” Drew cursed. “He doesn’t smell as he usually smells. He’s flushed.”

“A fever, maybe?” Connor opened his hands. “It sounds like he needs a medic not you telling us off. Drag him to Will, you know, he’s eager to get his hands on someone.”

“I heard he’s started to assist Michael in the medic bay,” Travis added in.

All three of them groaned in unison.

“I don’t think it’s a fever,” Drew said.

“If it’s not an urgent medic issue I don’t see how it’s our problem then,” Connor dismissed. “If you’re so worried about him you have enough charm to get blood from a turnip.”

Drew’s eyes were an oil slick black, children of Aphrodite were not crossed easily.

“I could get you to listen,” Drew said.

Connor’s heart thudded against his rib cage. “In our lessons, we learned it only took one word from the most beautiful and worthy of Aphrodite’s children to take the world.”

“And another from a child of Hermes to get it back,” Drew sniffed. “I’m not here to test you, sweetie pie. Keep eyes on the pipsqueak. Both of you.”

She gave them a half hearted wave, her manicured nails pointed like knives. She swayed, a hypnotic left and right, as she walked away the smell of pine and nutmeg trailing strong after her.

“So?” asked Connor.

Travis rested on the table. “How long has Drew been at Camp?”

“She came a little more than a month after us. We were the awful middle children always made to watch over the little ones… Annabeth, Drew and Beckendorf,” Connor said.

Travis snorted. Connor matched his smile. He and Connor were nine and ten respectively pushed to played with seven-year-old’s because they were too young to run with Luke and his crowd of adolescents. It had been them against the world. Well, Annabeth was the bridge… Luke listened to Annabeth and Annabeth did whatever Luke said.

“She was an entitled brat,” Travis said, then in high pitched squeak. “My daddy owns the largest funeral and wedding companies in the world. If you cross me you won’t have a wedding, and you’ll be lucky to be buried on Hart Island.”

Connor laughed.

“Drew’s never given a single shit about this life, about anyone from here. Except for Lena.”

Connor nodded. The only camper able to handle Drew Tanaka and Clarisse La Rue. “And Nico,” Connor added. “And Nico.”

“And Nico,” Travis echoed.

“We should go check up on him.” Travis pushed off the bench stretching and cracking limbs. “C’mon. Let’s get going.”

On a normal year, Connor enjoyed the winter holidays. Most everybody living beyond the borders of Camp came flooding back. Mr. D always in good cheer when Chiron broke out the nutmeg this he allowed the weather to change to a winter wonderland. He and Travis were often charged with raiding the camp stores and working with Beckendorf to decorate all eleven cabins and areas with bulbs of warm fire. The rules were so much more lax.

Instead of unclaimed cabiners following Hermes’ camp schedule, there was a lot of free time. As long as Nico showed at the Hermes table for his meals and ended up in their cabin by nightfall, he was free to do as he wished.

Full of warm lights and snow Camp lacked its usual cheer. Connor hated to be reminded of it.

“Where did Nico say he was going this morning?”

“Arts and crafts,” Travis said.

Connor hummed. “I hope he’s better than craft making than we were. Remember when you tried to make an Cleopatra’s Needle. It looked like –“

“Washington‘s Monument,” Travis said with a sullen smile. He waved to Beckendorf as they passed the great forges, an Aphrodite shadow at his side; the Big House looming large the pinochle board and big stuffed chair empty.

They treaded a familiar path. Connor kicked up the footprints of the snow replacing them with his.

“What’s happening over there?” Travis nodded to their right.

“What else. A fight in the pits.”

“But there’s a lot of people over there.”

Connor shrugged. “It must be a very interesting fight. A real alpha to alpha blowout.

“The Huntresses are over there.”

Connor scowled. “What do I care about those ugly cows.”

“Still fuming over that capture the flag game. It was two days ago,” Travis said with a side eye.

“It was a good helmet and now I owe Beckendorf a favor.”

“We had our revenge,” Travis said. “You hold grudges like a child of Athena.”

Connor shrugged. He didn’t see it as an insult. “Whatever, let’s go peek at your fight, then get back to finding Nico.”

Travis flashed him a wide smile. He hurried to the side and Connor trudged after him. Together, they pushed through the crowd of people to the front. Glancing over his shoulder, it seemed more than half of camp plus the hunters were here more than he expected for a regular mock battle.

“Ooh,” Connor said mashing with brother’s outcry, “What in Tartarus. Nico!”

Connor fenced his brother back with an arm. “Don’t.”

Travis pushed his arm away. “He hasn’t gotten any sword training,” he hissed. “Or have you forgotten we lost the best swordsman in three hundred years and the best swordsman in an age has mysteriously disappeared as well.”

“I remember,” Connor said. “But–”

“He’s going to get hurt.”

Connor tried hard to contain his eye roll. Nico was really working wonders here. First he thawed the icy heart of Drew Tanaka, and now, his brother appeared to have developed a complex. Nico had been with them for less than seventy-two hours.

“He’s not going to get hurt. This isn’t a game of capture the flag in the forest. A couple of bruises and maybe some hurt feelings after his first loss, but nothing that ambrosia and some hot chocolate at dinner won’t fix.”

“He’s only ten.”

“Relax,” Connor said. “Maybe he won’t be the one with the bruises. Would you relax for a second and look at what’s happening in front of you.” He pointed.

It would have been an educated guess to choose anyone on Nico. Especially in a camp full of veteran demigods. Connor recognized Summer Graine, an alpha son of Persephone with a short sword. Graine was a decent swordsman neither the best or the worst, he had knocked Connor down on his butt a few times. Nico was keeping up with him. He was an orange blur, on the offensive as he slashed forward with “is that a dagger?”

Most demigods preferred a sword or bow. Annabeth used a dagger. Annabeth was not most demigod. Each time she beat her opponent, she boasted with her metal of weapon glimmering in the sun her eyes as sharp as the tip of her dagger. “Only the fastest and cleverest demigods use knives.”

“It’s a kukri,” said a huntress. Her dark eyes pierced him. “He’s a little boy not strong enough to lift a metal sword and defend himself.” She patted her empty pouch brown as her skin. “I gave it to him.”

“All huntresses hate boys.”

Her eyes flashed. “Only the terrible ones. I heard what you did to my sister.”

The repeated clanging against the metal shield tore their attention to the battle pit. Nico was pushed by forward thrust. He stumbled a few steps regaining his feet narrowly escaping another strike when Summer took the opportunity to close the distance. Summer caught him, jabbing Nico hard into the chest.

Connor winced as Travis bristled.

“He shouldn’t push so hard.”

“D’you think the monsters out there be all understanding because he’s a kid.”

“But he’s not out there.”

“And you give him too little credit.”

“He’ll be a fine alpha one day,” the hunter said.

Will he? The buoyancy and aggressive attitude suggested it. He’d grow hungry, horny, and other if he had happened to get his rut or a face full of acne, mysterious body pain and hair in weird places with enhanced senses (the Spiderman as Connor called it) if he were a beta. It would be years at his earliest before Nico’s secondary sex revealed itself.

“Nico‘s smaller than average. A shrimp,” Travis said.

“I’ve seen alphas of all shapes and sizes,” the hunter said. “He has the hot blood.”

That was for sure. Nico had jumped to his feet beginning his onslaught once more. It looked like he was dancing.

“And the delicacy,” Travis said.

Connor side-eyed his brother.

“Yield!” Summer called out. “I yield!”

Summer’s shield was cast of the side in a show of dust and snow. His sword laid limp in his hand. Nico sat painfully on Summer’s gut. The kukri pressed on Summer’s neck.

Nico breathed hard. “ I want to fight more. Say you will pick up your sword again.”

“I yield.”

“Best two out of three.”

“No! I’m done, get off of me.”

The ground sang beneath Nico. “You are the strongest, aren’t you. You told me you were the strongest. I want to fight more.”

“T–“

“Nico,” Travis said.

Connor laughed with Nico’s snap of his head. His amusement dried with the pink flush gashed on his cheek and the bridge of his nose.

“Nico, it is done,” Connor said. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t want too.”

“Nico,” Travis said. “It’s over.”

Connor recognized the tone in his brother’s voice. He knew better than to argue and Nico had the same instinct. In a flash he moved off of Summer, braking in front of them. Travis grasped the back of Nico’s neck, the pink on his cheek resembled less flamingo feathers and more cherries.

“Are you feeling okay?” asked Travis.

“Yes.” Nico nodded. The curls of black twisted around his ears. “I feel fine.” Connor didn’t need his inner lie detector to tell him Nico fudged his words.

“I’d be tired after that,” Connor cajoled. “Let’s go to the medic bay to get some ambrosia then a mid noon nap.”

Nico shook his head. “I don’t want to go to sleep,” he said. “How long do quests take.”

“It depends. Sometimes days, sometimes months.” Years. The Athena cabin apparently had an ongoing quest to retrieve an old statute.

“Are quests dangerous. Do people die?”

It was clear as glass Nico was worried about his sister. She had been hand picked to go on her first quest by the ancient one. A stupid decision by all accounts. Not everyone was like Percy Jackson son of Seafood born under a lucky star. Untrained and untested by all accounts he should have been monster bait, but he survived victorious through every trial. Even with the chilling new prophecy where two were foretold to die, Connor had a gut feeling Percy would come back to them unscathed.

Not everyone was Percy.

“All the time,” Connor said. “They aren’t trips to Disney World.”

Nico squirmed. They waited him for him to find his courage or fall back. “My sister is an alpha. She was the strongest alpha I knew even before the dance until I saw Percy fight Dr. Thorn and what he looked like when the blonde girl fell.” His wide brown eyes glittered. “He wasn’t supposed to go on the trip, I was, but he stopped me. I let him go because he promised to keep my sister safe. Percy promised.”

What an awful thing to promise Connor thought.

“Percy’s strong?” Nico asked.

“Yes,” Travis answered.

“Does Percy lie?”

“Everyone lies,” Connor answered. “Some are good and some are not. Percy is not half bad but he is not a liar.”

Nico nodded. “He’ll keep his promise, then.”

Connor laid a hand atop Nico’s black hair wet with sweat. “He’ll try his best.”

Nico shook him and Travis off shoving past them. He stopped to hand the kukri back to the hunter, then went on his way. His hands crammed deep into his pockets.

With sundown most of the campers made their way to the dining pavilion. Connor put the last of the bows back on their hooks, then hurried to dinner. It was a skeleton crew at Camp, thirteen hunters — well, twelve hunters as the one he poisoned was still in the medic bay scratching her skin off – and another thirty regular campers making their way down a well-trodden road. Travis and Katie Gardner were near the front their heads knocked together and Connor smiled to think this was the excuse his brother came up when they parted ways this afternoon.

He let them have their moment figuring come bedtime he pester him for details.

“Let’s show Mr. D and Chiron we know how to line up.” Connor clapped his hands.

Seniority was easier these days. There were huge lulls between campers. Connor and Travis when he was done flirting started in the beginning, then came the rest with Nico, the little caboose.

Catching his eyes, Connor waved a little and pouted when Nico gave him a half hearted wave back. “Maybe he’s still embarrassed,” Connor muttered to himself, the brushing it off.

Satyrs scampered from the forest. The thick fur coats lined in white snow. Naiads emerged from the river and Nymphs bled from the trees. Despite the chilly weather, they kept their clothes of the summer flowing dresses. Hestia was already at the brazier, it hard to see her as she blended well with the great fire.

The Gathering could take anywhere fifteen minutes. Like Chiron said the rules were lax in the winter. When it looked like everywhere had joined in, Chiron raised his glass in the air and Mr. D followed with his filled with milky nutmeg.

“To the Gods!” Chiron said.

“To the Gods,” Connor said, the reflex gut deep.

Free to sit down, Connor grabbed by his sleeve and pulled him down to his right. He elbowed an unclaimed camper down one and left room for Travis to sit on the other side of Nico. He laughed at Travis’s flushed face and his pink ears.

“What?” demanded Travis.

“Nothing,” Connor laughed. “I just saw a snake in Katie’s personal garden.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah.” Connor lifted his eyebrows. “Remember no mating marks.”

“Shut up about it. All right, shut up.”

“Mating marks?” Nico frowned. “You’ve already found your mate, Travis?”

Connor coughed to hide the bark of laughter as Travis navigated between glaring over Nico’s head at him, then blushing and struggling for his words as he met Nico’s inquisitive gaze. There was something about the kid that made it impossible to lie.

Wood nymphs saved the day. The put down golden platters of food. For most of the year they were served a more Mediterranean diet consisting of strawberries, apples, oranges, garlic, onions, tomatoes and olives (lots and lots of olives), cheeses, and yogurts. If they wanted meat fish and other seafood were served. In the winter, they are heartier foods like pot pie, thick soups and stews, and meat casseroles.

Connor would have killed for some kushari.

“Koshary with a side milk and sugar,” Connor said to his goblet. It wasn’t the traditional meal he had wanted but he had the tea. It was a small victory, he brought his cup closer and watched the tea leaves settle at the bottom.

“Let’s go make our offerings before the line gets too long.”

Nico was herded in front of them, Connor behind them, and Travis last all of them carried a plate. For about six years, Connor had been stingy with his best food offered to the gods despite Luke’s early warnings to take it seriously. Gods did not eat. He did. Tonight was different. Nico scrapped nearly all of his food into the roaring fire, his small head bowed for long time before he moved along. Connor watched him, then it was his turn.

Parting ways with the fish and best pieces of bread, he attempted to do something he hadn’t done in a long awhile: he prayed: whoever is the parent of nico, watch over your kids. he’s struggling and he needs your guidance, please.

Connor jumped when the flames reacted to him. It did not smell as usually did a sunshine, strawberries, rain, old scrolls, Memphis barbecue. This was a small clean smell, freshly upturned ground, coldness and the reek of death.

He stared into the flames. The orange and red shimmered to show a man on throne encrusted in gleaming jewels and black metal. Incredibly uncomfortable on his heinie aside, it was obvious he was a king. Long and sharp as sword, Connor tried to puzzle him gasping when the king looked up at him with glittering obsidian eyes.

A hand touched his shoulder. Connor jumped tearing from the fire.

“Connor?” Travis asked, the concern thick in his voice.

“I zoned out,” Connor said, “more tired than I realized.” He made a quick exit back to his table. No doubt Travis was going to grill him later on, which was fine, but he didn’t need the rest of the camp to know he was coo-coo-bananas.

The rest of dinner happened without fanfare. There weren’t any announcements for group activities such as capture the flag or chariot racing. After everyone was done eating Mr. D and Chiron dismissed them to the amphitheater.

Nico stayed between them despite sending longing glances to the Aphrodite section. Drew had sent them a total of one casual glance and flick of her hair over her shoulder, then they were off to bed. Well. Sort of.

“Come sit with us.” Connor patted the spot on the bed.

Predictably, Nico’s face told all. He was unsure. Connor understood. It was quickly established that and his brother’s room, the biggest of the room in the Hermes cabin, was their territory and they did not keep an open door policy despite being counselors.

“What’s that?” Nico asked pointing at the headrest where a pillow would have laid.

“It’s an enchanted headrest,” Travis said, “It keeps our dreams safe. Who knows who could be watching.”

“Cool!” Nico exclaimed.

Connor blinked. “I guess it is cool since it keeps us from getting eaten by dream demons and regular demons.”

“Or having Clovis accidentally wander into dreams,” Travis said.

Connor nodded. The kid was a powerful sleeper.

“We’ve been wanting to talk to you, Nico,” Travis broached, “Have you been groomed?”

“Only by Bianca,” Nico said playing with his hands. “Last time she did it was before the dance…”

“Until the quest is over, do you want us to do it?” Connor added in.

Their plan had been a hodgepodge of ideas before Travis needed an excuse to go to see Katie. They meant to check in with Nico before bed. The easiest way to get a little kid like Nico to open up, grooming. Despite the suggestion, it felt awkward to invite another into their fold. Even in their puppy piles day they kept on the fringes never allowing anyone to close.

“Okay,” Nico said small.

“You can say no, Nico,” Travis said, “our feelings won’t be hurt.”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” Connor said.

Nico glanced between them. He blew out swinging his legs. “I want too.”

Connor nodded. “How does Bianca groom you?”

Nico showed them via dive balling on them. The ten-year-old was a lot heavier than expected. Still he laid on them kneeing them in the gut a few times and stabbing them in the eye a few times as Nico struggled to find a good position. When he put them throughly the ringer he strewn across their laps, his head in Connor’s lap, a leg thrown into Travis’ and a glowing boy in between.

“Some nights Bianca combs my hair.” Nico told them. “She mostly just… I don’t know… leans on me like a weeping willow.” His lip bottom sucked into his mouth. “Sometimes we practice our Venetian, she wants to make sure I don’t forget it.”

“You’re Italian?” Connor asked.

Nico nodded. “Bianca and I were born in Venice. We came here…” his forehead creased as he stared off into the distance. “Not here here but Washington D.C. I think because something bad was happening back at home.”

“What was bad?” Connor asked.

“I don’t know,” Nico said slowly, “I think it had something to do with the fighting.”

“Uh-huh,” Connor said. Well that was vague and unhelpful. Fighting in history. Not exactly well versed in world history he couldn’t come up with a single fight within the last decade or so that would merit an escape from the county. Sighing, Connor put it behind him. Tonight, he focused on Nico and making sure he slept enough that Drew Tanaka wouldn’t march on them.

Travis made the first move. He put long arms on Nico’s pajama clad legs grasping over them to reach a book – a comic book – on the other side resting it atop of Nico. Connor was cautious. He combed through Nico’s dark hair pushing sections out and around his ears, small and paler than the natural olive of the boy’s skin.

At that, Nico relaxed. He turned his cheek and head in Connor’s lap. He paused and slowed his stroke hanging onto the strands with the wave at its hand, bewitched as Nico fought sleep. He had never watched someone fall asleep as Nico did. He yawned and yawned, stretching his mouth as if the more air he consumed the more alert he’d become. But it wasn’t so. Each time he yawned the brightness in his eyes dimmed and his eyelids brushed up and down. By the fourth eyelid brush down, Nico lost. He was asleep.

“I didn’t think that would work,” Connor said.

Travis scoffed. “He’s a scared kid. Of course, this work.”

“We were scared kids once,” Connor said.

“Not like the others,” Travis said.

Connor frowned at him. He and Travis were not like the others shored into Camp Half Blood. It was an old hurt to remember they had once been kids with raised in a different world with different Gods told to forget about it all and keep quiet. “You’re right, we had each other and an eye for bullshit,” Connor said.

“What did you see?” Travis asked.

“Who did you pray for tonight?”

“Not who. What,” Travis said, “I prayed for the same: money, more time with Katie, a car.”

Connor hummed. “Try again.”

“For us to get us through this war,” Travis said. “Good barbecue.”

“The barbecue they serve here is bland as hell,” Connor acknowledged.

“Why are we talking about barbecue, Con?”

Drew Tanaka had been right. He known him since she was eight-year-old. Eight-year-ok’d with a gaze that told her she was looked down at them so mightily she was actually looking up. Until she turned her heavenly stare downwards and for a few moments they were on the same level. Nico was the linchpin. “He does smell different. When I scrapped my food into fire I had forgotten that Nico smells like death.”

“Appealing,” Travis noted.

“Remember Percy when he was crammed in here and how everybody stayed away from him because he smelt of salt and rage.”

Travis wrinkled his nose.

“And then he went on and his father ended up being Aquaman,” Connor continued. “I stared into these flames tonight and I was given a vision of Nico’s dad. I know who he is.”

“Who is it?”

“Hades, god of the underworld and all which rests under our feet,” Connor said, he was careful in his wording. It was one thing to piss off Zeus and Poseidon but quite another to do it to a god with control over your after life.

Travis gave him a blank stare. “I’m not falling for it.”

“Well, good for you. I didn’t lie about this, Travis. Nico’s really Hades’ kid.”

“No,” Travis insisted as if saying the word alone made it untrue. “We learned this in Demigod World 101. After the World War Two, the Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades all agreed they would have no more children and let me finish, I know Zeus broke his promise with Thalia and I know Poseidon broke his promise with Percy, but Hades? The River Styx is in his domain. He is the keeper of oaths… he wouldn’t break a promise.”

Connor gave him a helpless shrug. “I agree with you. It doesn’t make sense, but I feel it in my gut, Nico is his son and Bianca his daughter.”

His brother scowled fiercely. His eyes burned as he held his comic pages open so tightly they tore at the seams. “There are eleven cabins none for Hades.”

“I know.”

“If people find out they might shun him.”

“I know.”

“He might be the child of the prophecy.”

“I know.”

“He’ll be ours to protect.”

Travis laid next to Nico. The grip on his comic book loosened and he dared to reach out to touch Nico’s chubby cheek. He leaned into the warm touch, sinking further into Connor’s lap.

“I know.”

And that’s the end of that.

_

The deafening rumble of the earth startled Connor, and he paused on his bedding. He twisted to his brother and saw the same question mirrored in his eyes. What was that? An earthquake seemed unlikely, from first grade science he knew New York City wasn’t on any major fault lines and what was more, this was protected land. The great earth shaker, god of Seafood and Shamu, kept his black moods to other parts of the world. He sat up, imagining what might have caused the rumble. A stampede from the forest of death. Maybe a swarm of giants decided to invade camp halfblood? The rock wall was on the fritz. There seemed a million possibilities and not one of them fit. He got to his feet, noticed it was dark. And quiet. How could it be so quiet when there was rumbling, this time the ground shook beneath him. He held onto the windowsill and saw the clouds, a dark forbode mixture.

“Connor!” called Travis just as the door to their room pushed open. Drew took a single gulping breath, her hands clenched bone white and it was the closest to the scared she had ever looked.

“You two!” she growled despite the wet shine in her eyes. “We need to go now.”

“What are you talking about Drew. There’s an earthquake, I don’t have time for your games, you need to go to your cabin and I need to gather mi—“

“It’s no earthquake,” she snapped. “It’s Nico. I saw him in the forest with Percy, Annabeth, and Grover.”

“His sister. The huntresses that went on the quest?” Travis asked. “Did you see them too.”

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his belly. The sharp pinch of reality known to demigods. There’s was a short and dangerous life. And Bianca should have never been sent on that quest.

“God’s dammit,” cursed Connor. Another monstrous rumble from the ground and they all collectively wobbled clinging to whatever they found sturdiest until it ebbed. Then, they ran into the dark cloud of forest, fighting pine needles and hidden branches. Nimble, Drew led them back to the clearing, the black of her hair stuck to her forehead.

Who knew Aphrodite girls sweat, he thought blinking at her then facing the damage.

“You promised!” Nico yelled.

He hadn’t noticed them entering the clearing. But Connor could see him clearly, the marks of exhaustion as he trembled in place, his pale face twisted with a shaking rage barely hissing the grief found in his red-rimmed eyes. He crushed something in his hands and Travis moved. But Connor caught the tail of his shirt.

“Don’t,” said Connor.

For real, Travis’s face twisted—

“I shouldn’t have trusted you.” Nico looked small. He was small. Ten years old. Had been a week or less since he arrived in Camp Half Blood, so joyful upon his acceptance he played two rounds of poker and won against them without knowing the rules, shooting of questions to everyone he met. But that Nico died in the proceeding. He was small. “You lied to me. My nightmares were right.”

Oh those nightmares. The reason why Nico slept between them in a fitful sleep. The dark bags under his eyes arose by the day and brushed off despite cajoling. Nothing was wrong, he lied to them. And one day, he woke up in a fit of blubbering, gasping tears. Had then been when Bianca died?

“She’s dead.” He closed his eyes and Travis struggled in his hold.

“Let go,” Travis said. “He needs us. This has got to stop.”

“He has to say his piece to Percy,” Connor argued. “This is between them.”

“No it isn’t–“

“I should have known it earlier. She’s in the Fields of Asphodel, standing before the judges, being evaluated. I can feel it.”

“What do you mean you can feel it?” Percy and his group were freaked out.

“See, I told you,” Connor said. “He’s the son of Hades.”

Travis didn’t have the time to chide him. A hissing, clattering dres their attention and Connor’s breath caught. There were none soldiers with swords raised high, advancing on them as if they were in a real life Jason and the Argonauts.

“You’re trying to kill me!” Nico yelled. “You brought these things.”

Ok. It was time to step in. Connor let go off Travis and he pushed ahead into the fray of the empty pavilion. Percy whirled and slashed the zombie monsters and Nico was more grief stricken. Even Drew jumped into the fray pairing herself up with Percy.

“Stop it! Stop it, boneheads!” she screamed and they all froze unable to move their limbs. Drew rolled his eyes.

“Oh, for the love – Percy, Nico, and Stolls, y’all can unfreeze – idiots!” she was back to staring at them from so down, she was actually staring up.

“Nico,” Connor said as he took the left and Travis the right. “I know what you’re feeling really, really bad right now. But Percy’s not too blame.”

“No!” Nico shook his head and pressed his hands to his ears. “You don’t understand. He promised me. He broke his promise. He said, he promised, Bianca would be safe.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Percy cried. “I tried. I shouldn’t have –“

“No!” power bled into Nico’s voice, he pushed them aside. “Go away. I don’t want to see you anymore, go away.”

The air turned bitter cold. Frost and shadow crept on the ground and Percy took a choking step back, his sword clattered on the ground. “I hate you,” Nico spat. “You’re the one that should be dead.”

The ground rumbled underneath all the more fiercely. Nico seemed to take on a hold new strength while the great Percy Jackson dwindled before their eyes. Becoming more transparent by the second. Was Nico doing that?

“Stop it,” Travis said. “Stop it right now, Nico.”

“What’s that smell?” asked Connor.

Disorientated, it took him a beat to recognize the bittersweet tang in the air. Nico. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing hard and Drew laughed, the skeletal battalion still frozen behind her. “He’s an omega. And he’s gone berserk.”

Connor and Travis stood together, Oercy disappearing by the second and Nico high off his own power, watching. What should they do. Connor heard of berserk omegas, of course, who hadn’t heard of the great Achilles and his indomitable rage. Somehow this was scarier than Achilles’ rage because he was eventually taken down how would they stop a child of Hades who was not ready to hear reason.

“Give him the mating mark,” Drew said. “It will be enough to exhaust him. Calm him.”

“He’s a child,” Connor said.

“He’ll kill Percy and continue on.” Drew Tanaka did not mince words.

“ you stop him.”

“Sorry sweetie pie that’s not how my voice works,” she said, “I’ve already exerted myself with this army.” Her face screwed.

Connor and Travis looked at each. We’re they doing this? They were doing this. They hadn’t a choice. If Nico hated the, he hated them, but at least there would be no blood on their hands. In unison, they leaned down and but Nico’s neck.

He screamed.

Percy survived.

[hoodharlow]

Flipped

AN: I took a break from El Novio and thanks to Michael's Tiwtich stream an idea for Luke and Rory came about and I added that new pic y’alls mans posted 😌😌😌 also our newest 5sos!baby is named after my fave @wastelandcth ​ 

Requested? No

Warnings: general fluff with a breif interaction with rude a parent

Word Count:

Luke gently pushed down Aaliyah onto the couch. He quickly sat up and removed his shirt. He unzipped Aaliyah’s windbreaker and kissed down her body. His hands instinctively tugged down her leggings. He choked on air as he saw that she wasn’t wearing anything under.

“I get butt sweat when I wear panties.” Aaliyah explained to him. 

“All the more reason why you should ditch Alex, Fiona and Marina and stay with me. I can get you hot and stretched out so you don’t go to hot yoga.” Luke said before kissing her thighs.

“Mumma, I need my leo!” Rory yelled from her room, making them jump.

“I got it.” Luke mumbled kissing Aaliyah. 

He slipped on his shirt and adjusted his boxers to cover the tent in his sweatpants. He jogged upstairs to Rory’s room and found all of her clothes discarded on the floor. 

“What’s this?” He asked her. 

“I can’t find my leo.” She said, dramatically laying on her rug. 

Luke rolled his eyes at his three year old. He picked her up and sat her on the bed. He tossed her clothes on the bed and noted that she took out the clothes on the bottom drawers she reached. He pulled the second drawer and closed it back up remembering that it was her tennis and not her gymnastics one. All of her leotards and gymnastics equipment were in her closet. 

“Here you go love.” Luke said, handing Rory her favorite leotard. It was forest green with silver stars around her arms. She liked it in part because it was the same green as the shirt he wore where his ‘boobies’ showed. It also meant that Luke had to wear the shirt so they could be matchy-matchy. A term Rory took from Nico.

“Thank you.” She went to her bathroom and went to change. 

Luke folded her clothes and put them back in the drawers. 

“Tada!” Rory said before she did a somersault.

“A perfect ten.” Luke said. 

“Woohoo!” she cheered as she jumped to give him a high five. She went to her closet and grabbed her koala Converse Luke’s parents gave her when they all went to Australia for the band’s final leg of tour back in December. “Can I wear these?”

“Of course. Do you need help tying your shoelaces?”

“Yes, but I put them on.” Rory said. She slipped them on and pushed her feet towards Luke. He tied them and nearly fell back when she tackled him to a hug. “Thank you daddy!”

“You are welcome.”

Luke placed her on his shoulders and let her steer them downstairs. He ducked her as they went through the door frame and made sure she didn’t hit her head again. He put her down on her feet and watched her greet the dogs. She scratched Goldie’s tummy and kissed both Noon and Petunia’s heads. 

“Wash your hands love.” Luke said when he saw her pull her chair.

“Oh yeah.” She pushed her chair and went to wash her hands. She stood on the stool and washed her hands with Luke. She dried them and went to sit on her activities table to color while she waited for Luke to get started on breaky.

“I’m going to kill Marina.” Aaliyah groaned as she went straight to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of green juice. She looked back to a wide eyed Rory. 

“Not nice, mumma.” Rory said, dumping her crayon box onto the table. 

“I didn’t mean it literally. It’s an expression you say when you get annoyed with someone because they’re making you do something you don’t want to.” She quickly explained. She turned to Luke. “So our yoga class got cancelled, and Marina came up with the genius idea that we go hiking near the house she and Ashton bought near the mountains.” 

“That’s not so bad.” Luke said, flipping Rory’s blueberry pancakes.

“She wants us to bring the kids.” She deadpanned.

“But Rory has gymnastics.” 

“Now you know why I want to kill her.”

Luke placed the pancakes on a plate for Rory and made a smiley face with more blueberries. He placed her pancakes on the breakfast table and motioned to come eat. He nodded along to whatever else Aaliyah was telling him.

“So it’s settled then.” She said, making him look over to her, confused. She gave him a look before she explained, “I’ll go run a few errands and get what we need for the trip while you take Rory to gymnastics. She’s super excited to show you off.” 

Luke smirked and proudly looked at Rory. “I mean, I am Luke Hemmings, the father of the Aurora Marie Hemmings-Douglass after all.” 

***

“Daddy, lights.” Rory pointed at their green vintage Porsche with the headlights still on. 

Luke turned back and adjusted Rory’s bag over his shoulder. “They’ll turn off in a bit. C’mon we’re already late.” He said, tugging her down to the street.

Once inside the gym, Rory pulled off her Converse and chucked them at Luke. She quickly snuck into the middle of the line and followed the warmups. 

The second he sat down at one of the empty tables, he got swarmed by a group of teenage girls, all giddy that he was at their gym. He took a few selfies with them until their trainers called them back from their break. They all giggled and bid him goodbye. 

Once the last gymnast left, Luke focused on Rory. She was the best in her class. She followed every direction and watched the other kids. She would gather their mistakes and make mental notes not to do them. A trait she got from Aaliyah. 

If Ryan Tedder hadn't sat next to Aaliyah, who was taking notes of if her classmates' mistakes and improving her work, at the UC Berkeley showcase, Rory wouldn't exist.  

A few hours had gone by, Luke began reflecting. He leaned back and crossed his arms. It was the first time in a while that he felt like a dad. On top of their own world tour they did the year before, in the past few weeks, the band had been traveling all over the UK and Europe opening for Halsey's tour. So Luke hadn't had much time to spend with Rory. The last he had seen her was when she and Aaliyah visited him in Amsterdam to celebrate Rory's birthday. Now seeing her almost a head taller and with a more broader vocabulary, made him realize all that he's missed. 

His heart warmed watching Rory high five a blonde girl with soft blue eyes before she went up.

"She's great, ain't she?" A woman with a heavy East Coast accent said, approaching him. She had large ginger-red hair and held a large bedazzled Starbucks cup. 

"Best in class if I say so myself." Luke said politely. 

"No offense, but the best in the class is the charity case in the green leotard." Rory was only one in green. "Poor thing was lucky that this place takes students based on talent and not if their single mom can afford it. It's funny that they both say that the dad—"

"Go Rory!" Luke cheered as Rory did a perfect cartwheels across the floor. 

He clapped loudly and whistled. Rory high fived the trainer and went up to him as the trainers announced the end of training. 

"Daddy, did you see me?" Rory asked him, climbing onto his lap. 

Luke nodded and smiled. "I did. Perfect as always, love." he handed her water bottle. 

The woman had walked away and went to a group of moms. Luke had noticed them when they arrived, but didn't pay much attention to them. But now that he eyed them, he saw them for what they were: vultures. He felt angry and annoyed with them. 

"Are you ready?" Luke asked Rory. 

"Yes." She said. 

He grabbed her things and let her lead them out of the gym. She swung their hands together as they made their way to the car. Luke placed her things in the back next to her and helped her buckle up in her car seat. He rounded back to the driver's seat and started the car. Only for it to not to start. The car struggled a bit and gave out. 

Luke cursed, remembering that it was probably the car lights he left on. He called Aaliyah to help him recharge his car. While they waited for her, he handed Rory his phone and played her a movie. A few moms had come up to them and offered to recharge his car, among other things. He declined them, with Rory assuring them that her mumma was coming.

Aaliyah pulled next to them a good fifteen minutes later. Luke pulled her into a hug and thanked her after she teased him once again for forgetting to turn off his lights. Rory got out of the car and hugged her. She went on explaining to her all the new stuff she learned and how happy she was that Luke took her. 

"Daddy, can I go with mumma?" Rory asked once Luke's car was starting again. 

"Sure,” He nodded. “ I'll race you two home." He challenged Aaliyah. 

She shook her head. They both knew Aaliyah is the better driver between the two. "It's on." 

***

By the time they arrived at Ashton and Marina’s house it was around bed time for the kids. Around one in the morning Rory snuck into Luke and Aaliyah’s room because Max and Ethan were having a farting competition. Resulting in Luke and Aaliyah not being able to sleep because she took up half the bed, despite being barely three feet tall. But they were glad she was sleeping. The reason why they showed up at night was because she had a whole moment because they were taking the grey SUV Porsche and not the vintage green one. 

“It’s so early Al.” Luke grumbled as he slipped on his boots. 

“Oh shush, how many times did we have phone sex in the middle of the night because someone was in Europe and couldn’t wait a few hours.” Aaliyah sassed him as they quietly snuck outside.

Luke jogged to the car and removed Rory’s car seat, placing it in the trunk. Aaaliyah climbed inside and pushed him down on the seat. They devoured each other, not sure where to get started. 

Aaliyah got off his lap and sat next to Luke, pulling off her pajamas. She threw them haphazardly around the car.  Luke already settled in the middle seat shirtless and with his pants and boxers around his ankles as his cock stood proudly. While Aaliyah fixed her hair, he searched inside the center console, grabbing a box of condoms. 

“What’s with the condoms?” She asked as he skillfully rolled it on him. “We haven’t used one in years. Why do we need one now? We literally have a child sleeping upstairs”

“Aaliyah,” Luke groaned at her in frustration. 

“I’m not going to get into it right now because it’s early, but after breakfast we’re going to have a serious talk.” 

Aaliyah stood on her knees over Luke’s cock and reached down for it as she ran her arousal on it. Luke grabbed her hips and guided her down his cock. Both let out a satisfied moan. Aaliyah grabbed the headrest and slowly rode him. Once she got used to him, Luke met her thrusts. They were urgent yet passionate. Aaliyah was a moaning mess for him. 

Luke watched her dainty Cartier necklace bounce on her chest. He pulled her lips back to his. They moaned into each other. Aaliyah rode him with more urgency, but he pulled out of her. 

Aaliyah couldn’t process anything because next thing she knew, Luke laid her on the car seat. He planted one of his knees on the seat and wrapped her legs around his torso. Aaliyah’s whimpers filled the room as he thrusted back into her. One of her hands gripped his bicep while the other traveled down to her clit.

While she rubbed herself, she panted. “I’m going to come.”

“Fuck—can you hold it? I’m almost there.” 

Aaliyah nodded. 

Luke slowed his thrusts. They were deeper and more precise, he took her as if he was making love to her. Aaliyah pulled his mouth to hers. This kiss itself was also slow and soft. 

Aaliyah closed her eyes, she was close. “Eyes on me Aaliyah” he said. She opened her eyes and met Luke’s full of love and admiration. 

With one swift movement both came undone, moaning each other’s names.

After another heated makeout session they got dressed. They quietly giggled to each other, surprised that Ashton wasn’t up yet doing yoga by the picnic table. They closed the front door and found the kids running around. 

“My daddy says that there’s supposed to be ten numbers on a phone 9-1-1 has three.” Nico argued with Ethan.

“Nico, I’m six almost seven, trust me.” He said.

“Why are we calling 911?” Luke asked them.

“Rory is missing.” Max and Gemma, Michael and Fiona’s daughter said at the same time. 

Nico and Ethan shushed them. Nico fixed her rainbow pajama leggings and said. “As Gemma and Max said, Rory is missing. When we woke up she was— “

“It’s Gemma like gem not with an H sound.” Ethan interjected. 

“Well I’m Mexican and Mexicans say it with an H.”

“This isn’t Mexico, Nicolasa.”

Aaliyah got in between Nico and Ethan before their argument woke up the other parents. “Okay! Let’s bring it back to Rory. What do you mean she’s missing?” She motioned to her and Luke. “We went for a quick...walk and left her sleeping in our room.”

“Oh.” the four kids said in unison.

“Can we have breaky?” Max asked, making his way to the kitchen.

“Mumma, I want breaky too.” Rory mumbled, rubbing her eye. 

All the kids ran and hugged her. “Rory!”

“Where were you?” Nico asked like a worried mother, who’s kid accidentally napped when they were supposed to be paying attention to the route thus making them miss their stop.

Rory shrugged. “Sleeping.”

TAGLIST:  @calumscalm​​ @karajaynetoday​​  @cherryxwildflower​​ @myloverboyash​​ @calpops​​ @idontneedanyone​​ @findingliam-o​​ @5-secondsofcolor​​ @mulletcal​​ @sexgodashton​​ @sunshinebabycal-deactivated2021​​ @another-lonely-heart​​​ @fckingpernico​ @2fangirl4u

​​​​Special guests: @twilightmomentswithyou​​ @rebelwith0utacause​

[the-heart-of-leo]

(I originally posted this idea on the K*nk Meme but I feel it’ll get more traction here)

Okay, so imagine little baby Yusef, 9 or 10 years old, going on trips with his merchant father, learning the family business and what not. And being the adventurous little thing, decided he was going to explore this new strange port while his Baba is obviously busy.

Of course, he gets hopelessly lost and, as always happens with lost children, a few very bad men try and take advantage. Now, Yusef can take care of himself, thank you, but his little dagger isn’t going to do much against a few fully grown men.

Then, out of nowhere, and tiny little ball of fury jumps out, stabs one of the men in the leg, grabs Yusef’s hand and they take off running through the docks. 

Once the men are behind him, Yusef sees his savor is a scruffy boy, a little younger than himself, with the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen.

He tries to speak to him but he obviously doesn’t understand but, with a bit of miming, the boy (who says the word ‘Nicolo’ which Yusef is just assuming is his name) leads him back to the dock where Yusef’s father is frantically searching for him.

Yusef tells his Baba about Nicolo saving him and they need to make sure he gets home so he doesn’t get lost like he did. His Baba speaks with Nicolo who just looks at the other boy sadly. Yusef demands to know what’s going on and Baba tells him Nicolo is one of  the orphans that stay around the dock and he doesn’t have a home.

Yusef doesn’t see how this is a problem, that just means Nicolo can stay with them! Baba hesitates but Yusef has already taken Nicolo’s hand and is leading him to the ship to show him their rooms.

Of course, Nicolo is accepted into the family with little question or hesitation and Yusef and Nico grow up together (though, as they get older, their affection for each other becomes less and less brotherly and more romantic.)

Decades later, in the city of Jerusalem, Yusef and Nicolo ready themselves to fight back the invaders approaching the walls of their latest home when the order goes through the city ‘All Christians must leave Jerusalem’. Nicolo had kept his faith (The Al-Kaysani’s never pressured him to convert and found family friends who shared his faith) but even if he had converted, no one would trust the pale-eyed and pale-skinned foreigner.

Nicolo still wants to protect the city, protect and stay with Yusef and Yusef wants the same. 

They have to decide if they will part to try and fight the war on two fronts (though what can Nicolo do by himself?) Will they leave together? Will they try and hide Nicolo away within the walls?

[randombush3]

YEAHHHH!!’

gladly x

---

“Y/n left me.” 

The limousine you are in is completely black, save for the white lines being measured out right next to you. 

“What?” says Jenni. 

“She left me,” Alexia says once more. The hotel room is a non-committal beige. They lie in the same bed, the older of the two welcoming her lost teammate wordlessly and without judgement. Tomorrow, they will return to Barcelona, losers yet another time. “She moved back to london. She took Nico.” 

“She can’t just take Nico, can she?” 

“Y/n, how’s Nico?” Your stomach turns, but whether that is provoked by the thought of the baby boy you left crying in your father’s arms or by the white powder outlining the rim of the woman’s nostrils, you don’t know. 

Your son’s creasing eyes, red face, and grabbing hands appear in front of you. He screams as you walk away. He doesn’t understand why he has not smelt Alexia in weeks, and he misses the comfort of home. 

Everyone waits for your answer. No one comments on the bags under your eyes. “He's fine,” you say with a smile. “He loves it here.”

“I think she is depressed,” Alexia tells Jenni, comforted by the arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close and tightly and reminding her that she is not as alone as you have made her feel. “She told me that she couldn’t be in Barcelona anymore, but she said that without giving me a chance to come with her. Her bags were packed before the conversation started — she might as well have called me from the plane.” 

“Are you angry at her?” 

“Yes.” 

Alexia thinks about it. 

“No.”

“No,” you say when they point at your very own line. The drug holds a place of both familiarity and hatred in your heart. The fine, white powder reminds you of greatness – of being the most successful girl group in the UK – but, also, of hospital visits. It’s not a past addiction, but it could have been. You light a cigarette instead, though it will make the vehicle reek.“I can't. I have a son.” 

“You’re not a saint.” They boo. “You’re allowed to have fun. I saw you the other day, and you had no qualms with any drugs then.” 

“No, I'm not a saint,” you reply. You regret that night — however little you remember. “But I am a mother.” 

“Is it that thing? Postpartum?” Jenni asks. “The baby blues are really shitty, I've heard, but they’re not supposed to cripple you. Maybe the relationship has other issues.” 

“I'm not angry at her, Jenni,” Alexia repeats. “I miss Nico. He looks like her. He has started to look a lot more like her now.”

“He would definitely suit those sparkly bralettes.” Jenni giggles at the thought. 

With an understandable lack of good humour, Alexia ponders something more realistic. “He would suit a Barcelona kit.” 

“He would be made for it. You are his mother.” 

“I'm not angry at her,” Alexia says for the third time, just to make herself believe it. Just to carve those words into her bones and tell herself that it isn’t anger, what she’s feeling. “I don't want to be angry at her. I think I'm going to see if I can move to arsenal.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Well, I'm not angry at her.” 

“Alexia.” Jenni cups her cheek tenderly. “Ale.” She knows she shouldn’t. She’s not angry at you, and so there is no punishment needed. Not that… Not that kissing Jenni would ever be utilised as a weapon to get back at you. Or that she’d actually kiss her. 

“Daddy, I can't get him tonight. No, I don't want to stay over. Daddy, I…” You hate the baby. You hate yourself. You hate that Spain hasn’t done well, and that your fiancée is disappointed that nothing is how it was supposed to be. Alexia is probably lying awake in bed, missing her son, and missing you. You expect one of her teammates to call you soon, and tell her that she needs you. You’re her person. “I'm going to get some sleep and I'll pick him up tomorrow. Probably around lunchtime, okay?” 

“Alexia."

---

what do we think?

[fangirlshrewt97]

Circle: Yes or YES

Fandom: The Old Guard

Pairing: Joe x Nicky (Yusuf al-Kaysani/Nicolo di Genova)

Read on AO3

                                                        ----

Nicky was sitting at their latest safe house’s dining table writing a grocery list of items they would need for him to prepare a particular dish from the 1500’s Quynh had loved and insisted on having again. It had taken them some time to come back to this particular house, a modest place in bustling Istanbul, a crossroads they had often travelled through in their earlier days. Nicky had taken to writing the recipes for dishes their little family particularly enjoyed around his second century. He had realized both how difficult it was to recall the specifics of making some dishes, and the scarcity of particular ingredients in particular regions.

He was finishing up the last items in his list when he heard the chair opposite to him being pulled out.

“Almost done, habibi?” Joe asked.

Nicky hummed without looking up, bringing the book closer as he tried to decipher his own writing from the remnants of ink from five centuries ago. He scribbled his last two ingredients, cardamom and cloves, on his list.

When he looked up, he blinked at the small piece of paper that was sitting folded in front of him. When he glanced at Joe with a raised eyebrow, all he got was Joe’s ‘butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth’ innocent look. Honest to god twiddling his thumbs.

Squinting at him, Nicky reached for the paper, bringing it closer. It looked like a normal paper, torn off of one of Joe’s notebooks. Flipping it open, Nicky looked at the contents in disbelief before snorting loudly.

In the center of the sheet, in Joe’s lovely cursive handwriting, were the words:

                                           DO YOU LIKE ME?

                                          CIRCLE: Yes or YES

This man. This ridiculous, 900-year-old man that made Nicky’s heart both melt and race. So full of love and mischief and an infallible ability to make him happy. Nicky clenched his jaw to not break into a smile. He picked up his pen and wrote a tidy NO before folding it and sliding the paper back to Joe.

Joe who had been sitting across from him with a wide-eyed look of anticipation and excitement. Who’s tail would definitely have been wagging if he had one. Who nearly ripped the paper in excitement reaching for it.

Joe who whined and gave Nicky one of the most impressive forlorn looks combined with a big pout that the Genovean man had ever seen.

Nicky put all his willpower into not breaking his facade as he threw him a dead pan look before getting up. He packed his completed list along with his wallets and car keys into a shoulder bag. He checked the kitchen to make sure everything was properly cleaned up before returning to the table. Joe was still there, slouched over the table and pawing at the note.

Shaking his head at his husband’s antics, Nicky sets his bag next to Joe’s head before placing a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Get up Joe.”

Nicky huffed a laugh when Joe shrugged his arm off with a petulant “No”.  

Looping his arm around Joe’s shoulders, he pushed, pulling him up until there was enough space for Nicky to seat himself on Joe’s lap.

Joe’s arms automatically came to wrap around his waist, making Nicky smile. Yet when he leaned in for a kiss, Joe turned his head, pout still in place. Laughing against Joe’s cheek, Nicky placed a soft kiss there before leaning back. “Come on amore, are you still upset?”

Joe turned to look at him, and really, how is it fair a grown man is able to pull off such an adorable long face. “You wrote you didn’t like me.”

Nicky smiled serenely back at him, bringing one hand to cup Joe’s nape while another carded through his curls. “That’s true, I don’t like you.”

Joe whined. “Nicolo.”

Nicky cracked, laughing even as it just made his husband’s frown worsen.

When he was able to bring his laughter into control, he leaned closer, resting his forehead against the side of Joe’s head so he was speaking directly into his ear. “Oh hayati, I do not like you. I adore you. I cherish you. I am breathless in front of you. I am overwhelmed by you. I see you and some days am nearly blinded by how brightly you shine. Some days I am brought to my knees by your beauty, you kindness, and others am overcome with the urge to thank every god and higher power in existence for allowing me to spend so many days at your side. I am charmed and captivated and wholly lost to you. I am yours for as long as my heart beats, because it is in your hands. In the face of all that, how can what I feel for you merely be reduced to liking you? It is such a small word for all that I feel for you. Saying I like you would be doing us both an injustice.”

Nicky lifted his head. He saw tears at the corners of Joe’s eyes, which were looking at him with a profound devotion he was certain was reflected in his own eyes. “Nico.” Joe whispers.

Gently kissing the tears away, Nicky tilted Joe’s head to kiss him properly. To let him know the steadfast love that has endured for 900 years, and will endure for centuries, no, millenia more. Joe held him tightly, a grip that secured him closely to his anchor in this world. They were both panting slightly when they parted, foreheads resting against each other as they breathed together.

“For the record, I feel the same way about you, moon of my life. But.” and here Joe pulled back, looking at him with a shit-eating grin that means Nicky already knows what’s coming. “I also like you too”.

Lightly slapping Joe’s face, Nicky laughed, “You impossible man.”

He untangled himself from Joe’s arms, moving to pick up his bag. When he looked at Joe, the man was still looking at him with an adoring look in his eyes that makes Nicky sigh. “Do you want to come with me to the market to buy the things for dinner?”

Joe’s face split into a wide smile as he jumped up from the chair. He pulled Nicky in to smack a loud kiss to his cheek that had him chuckling, before racing towards their room. “Give me two minutes, I’ll change into actual pants.”

Shaking his head fondly at his husband’s antics, Nicky’s eyes landed on the note again. Tracing the handwriting once, Nicky folded the note again. He grabbed the old recipe book from the table, flicking through the pages until he finds one of Joe’ favorites. Placing the note in between the pages, he closed the book again. It looked like he would have to add a couple extra ingredients to his list after all.

He couldn’t have his love thinking he didn’t like him, now could he?

[pod-together]

Day 4 Reveals!

Like Some Lonesome Child [text, audio]  (Marvel Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)) written by Politzania, performed by EllaCx Summary: When a spell from Loki turns Captain America into a small child, Tony finds himself his tiny teammate’s  caretaker.  The trust and affection this version of Steve shows him makes Tony long for more; but when the purpose of the spell is revealed, Tony realizes what Steve has been missing in his life as well. just to wait for a while  (Critical Role (Web Series)) written by sabinelagrande, performed by blackglass Summary: There is a beautiful plant in the Feywild. Many, in fact. Percy and Vex can't look away. Twin Suns  (Merlin (TV)) written by Robin_Fai, performed by dreaminghour Summary: She did hear whispers of magic sometimes when she passed in darker corners of the world. Some people still practised the old ways in secret. And sometimes, around a shared fire of an evening, they could be plied with ale or mead and coerced into telling of a traveller who wore magic like a second skin. They spoke of his kindness, of his sorrow, of eyes that blazed gold as the sun. They never spoke his name, but Morgana felt sure it was him – Emrys – Merlin. When Morgana wakes out of sync with the world, alone, she finds that Camelot is not what she remembered, and neither is the man she long knew as both enemy and friend. Now, in an age after Arthur, she and Merlin are the only ones who remember. Pieces of You  (Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling) written by Janieohio, performed by PhenomenalAsterisk Summary: Harry and Draco have moved in together, but Harry is hiding the truth of his childhood from Draco. Draco struggles to understand until a phone call from Harry's estranged cousin changes everything. The Avenging Director  (Marvel 616, Iron Man (Comics)) written by Missy_dee811, performed by Cathalinaheart Summary: A look at Anthony Stark’s Directorship at S.H.I.E.L.D. Life and Its Infinite Surprises  (Tortall - Tamora Pierce) written by minnabird, performed by Aliteralgarbageheap Summary: “Before I forget,” she said, “I promised to bring letters.” She handed the packet to Neal, who immediately seized it. He gestured for her to take a seat, then began sorting through the contents of the parcel. Most he set aside, but he opened two immediately. The first made him smile. As he read the second, color drained from his face. He threw the letter down and stood, pacing away from Kel as he raked a hand through his hair. “Neal?” she asked warily. Kel brings Neal's daughter home to Queenscove after her page trials. Rui of Queenscove knows exactly what she wants; the problem is telling her father about it. It Takes Three [text, audio]  (Marvel Cinematic Universe) written by poppetawoppet, performed by Cass_Caelis Summary: way back in 2011/2012 timeframe, I believe I prompted "5 times Steve walks in on Clint and Natasha fonduing, and 1 time he joins in" This is more like 1 times Steve walks in, 1 time they cuddle, 2 times he overhears them, and one time he joins in. A very rare NSFW work from me. Starts out post Avengers, in the inevitable they all live in the tower together dream, and goes from there. All There Is  (Leverage, WandaVision (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe) written by FlutterFyre, performed by Tipsy_Kitty Summary: A chance encounter leads to unexpected relationship advice from a surprising source. Walk Away (from all you’ve never known)  (Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types) written by stereden, performed by DyingGravy Summary: You’re twelve years old and you do not care for immortality, do not know nearly enough about the goddess offering it to you to pledge your loyalty to her, but she offers you the freedom you crave so badly, the freedom to find out who you are when you are not being sister-mother-parent-caretaker, and you grab it with both hands. You’re twelve years old, and you take an oath you only half-understand, an oath you’ve only half thought through, and suddenly you’re stronger and more confident and everything seems so much brighter. Your brother isn’t talking to you, but he is talking to others, chattering their ears off with his unending questions, and you know he will be fine. You are Bianca di Angelo, sister of Nico di Angelo, and you’re twelve years old and just this once you chose to be selfish. [Stop. Pause. Switch tracks.]

[ashenpages]

Current Projects & Emoji Voting Key

Quick disclaimer: I’m a romance writer in all aspects of the term, so most of my works will contain mature content. Engage at your own risk, you know the rules, you’re responsible for curating your own experience of the internet, blah blah blah.

This post serves as a current mock up of fic ideas I’m either actively working on or considering working on next. You can drop me an ask about any of them, or just vote via the emoji combo I’ve assigned them.

Voting lets me know you’re excited about an idea and makes it more likely I’ll actually work on it. You can vote anytime, there’re no deadlines or winner announcements, just me gauging your interest by what I see in my ask box most often.

You can also ask me about the original stuff I’m working on currently. The current WIPs are Medusa centric and the emoji for them is: 🐍

Support my original work on Ko-fi and Patreon.

- Lupin: 🤑🤠💍  These are all oneshot ideas, between 5-15K each. If you want to vote for a specific idea, send me the emojis and the number of the idea.

Born from the idea that Goemon and Zenigata probably couldn’t be an item, my brain decided to come up with how I could write for them. Goemon’s teaching an ikebana class as part of his training, and Zenigata shows up as a student on forced recreational leave for his health from the ICPO. Zenigata wins the samurai’s heart through flowers. But what happens when Lupin and Jigen find out? (Only good sexy things, I promise. These beans are in a healthy polycule--be gay, do crimes) (WIP)

Jigen/Lupin, but it's Jigen deciding to seduce Lupin while wearing his own Lupin disguise. The thief is waaaaay too into it, and some artistry is taken with the sex so that they don't mess up the disguise too much during their encoutner.

Jigen/Zenigata/Lupin where Jigen has some fantasices about Zenigata, but is pretty sure they'll never happen. Tells Lupin about them. Suddenly the fantasies are coming true, in the middle of a heist, and Jigen doesn't what to do except get swept up in the moment and enjoy. Plot twist, it's Lupin dressed up as Zenigata granting all his gunman's dreams. Plot twist again, Zenigata catches them at it.

Zenigata/Lupin, where Lupin keeps doing good things in illegal ways and Pops has to find a way to punish him for it. Good thing for Pops Lupin's a masochist?

Trans!Lupin and Trans!Jigen premise: Jigen cares for Lupin after the master thief has top surgery, since Jigen has Been There and Done That. Caring, sweet, and a little sexy. Lupin is a much better patient than Jigen.

The one time Zenigata caught Lupin in an alley and kissed him and it was Jigen in disguise. Things get sexy anyway, and Zenigata has crushes on two thieves now. Lupin and Jigen "kidnap" him later for an evening of taking care of their inspector.

The background plot of Jigen's Gravestone where we see Jigen think he's done for and try to leave Lupin. Our thief has none of it, and we get to relish in the inherent eroticism of Lupin sitting in sniper fire, knowing Jigen's got his back. This is the moment I think Jigen finally believes he can be with Lupin forever.

I love the idea of something longer and more plot driven like a Lupin special where Lupin ends up in hot water and Jigen and Fujiko have to work together to save him. Jigen and Fujiko have such an interesting relationship. They're both partners of Lupin, they don't really like each other, they constantly screw the other over, but when it really matters they take care of each other. I'd like to see that highlighted a little more and also give them space to call each other out and bicker. Nothing sexy between them, but maybe a really interesting threesome with Lupin and Fujiko in a strap on once they save their boy.

- Sonic Vampire Novelist Coffee Shop AU: 📚☕💐

Shadow is an immortal vampire who has seen the world change for the worse too many times. These days it feels like he only lives for his coffee dates with Rouge, another immortal who loves each new era they encounter, warts and all. He has to admit that the book series she got him into speaks to him, at least. If someone in this era can understand him without meeting him, it can’t all be bad. But he hardly expected the goofy blue barista at the new coffee place to understand him the way those books do.

This is a novel length romcom romp with some big feelings about what it means to watch as things change, grow, and die. Expect lots of Big gothic feelings from this one, emotionally charged kissing, and overly-adoring sex. But also expect shenanigans from everyone in the coffee shop, which include Rouge, Amy, Tails, Knuckles, Cream, and more.

- Sonic Blazamy, "Like the Sun": 💖🌸💎

Amy Rose has been in love with Sonic for a while.

Or has she?

When the Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Shadow, and Silver are trapped as the fuel sources for Doctor Eggman’s newest evil scheme, Amy teams up with Blaze, Rouge, and Cream to save them. With Sonic out of the picture and Amy fulfilling his role, was she ever really in love with him? Or did she just want to be like him?

This is a novel length epic romance with lots of competent women and lots of romantic Blazamy content. Expect flowery hopes and dreams, badass self-actualization, and glancing hand touches that give way to cuddly and sweet sex.

- Persona 5: 🗡🍛☕

After bringing down the Metaverse twice, Ryuji didn’t think graduating high school and figuring out what to do with his life would be so hard. Akira’s back in town, and the gang’s more-or-less all in Tokyo, but everyone else seems to have a plan while Ryuji just floats. How’s he supposed to change the world when he’s not a phantom thief anymore?

This is a novel length fic that addresses how powerless one can feel being just one person in the face of all the corrupted systems and bigotry the world has to offer. It’s about holding on to what you believe in, working through the doubt, and fighting your way to a better tomorrow with the power you do have. The whole gang is queer, featured relationships being Mako x Ann, Ryuji x Akira, Futaba & Yusuke as platonic life partners. Akira is polyamorous and omnisexual, Futaba’s asexual and aromantic while Yusuke is demisexual and very romantic, Makoto’s a lesbian, Ann and Ryuji are bi, and Haru’s pansexual, demisexual, and aromantic. They’re one giant band of queer Phantom Thieves, and even if they’re not really doing the Metaverse thing anymore, they’re still gonna save the world!

Also, I’m gonna make Makoto not a cop. That super didn’t age well. Zenkichi and his boss can work on making them better/abolishing them for other better organizations.

- Hades Game: ❤️‍🔥💀

Oneshot. I just really need to elaborate on the threesome you can have with them in-game, okay? Healthy and canon poly relationships are so few and far between, so often I have to do a ton of groundwork to explain why it’s working in the fic, but NOT WITH THESE KIDS!

Get ready for Meg helping Zag and Than be better at expressing their feelings, lots of kissing, and probably pegging.

- Castlevania Animation Trevor/Sypha/Alucard: 🧛🏰🛌

Castlevania gave Alucard a threesome last season, and I just really need S4 to give me him being taken care of by his partners. They’re probably not going to give it to me, so I’ll need to do it myself. This is just an everybody loves Alucard oneshot, with the gang’s signature banter (to an extent), Sypha being sexy, and Trever being remarkably sincere. This fic is gonna feel like that Ann Hathaway picture with Trevor kissing Alucard and Sypha holding the end of Trevor’s whip while she leans her head on Alucard’s shoulder adoringly.

- Devil May Cry Nico/Lady/Trish: 💋✨😈

Nico’s gay, okay? Like really, really gay. And Lady’s bi and not into men who make her pay bills, but very into women who make amazing guns for her and demonesses with hearts who fight by her side. Trish is ace, but loves people and is pretty attached to Lady at this point. Plus it’s cute when Lady blushes and says nice things like they’re insults. I don’t have super solid ideas for them yet, and I envision these more like a polycule where Lady’s with Nico and with Trish but they’re not with each other more than seeing it as a threesome, but who knows what might happen. This is probably 1-2 oneshots depending on ideas, but might turn into a series of oneshots if people are interested (or I can’t control myself and inspiration strikes).

- Post FMA:B Blind Roy & No Alchemy Ed: 👀👑🙏

This is actually an old novel-length fic I wrote ages ago and didn’t post that didn’t turn out well because I was new to writing sex when I first wrote it. The plot is good, and is all about Roy learning to work with his blindness to reclaim his ambition of being Fuhrer and changing the system to something that actually cares for its people. He and Ed reconnect, fall into bed, and both set about working through their respective traumas about being “useless” having lost their sight/alchemy. They go to Xing as an ambassadorial party to offer Amestris’s collaboration on Al and May’s Alkahestry experiments--and uncover a plot that might threaten both kingdoms.

- Age of Calamity continuity Mipha x Revali: 🦚🐟💘

The first time Revali noticed Mipha, it was in the heat of battle. She stole his mark, taking them down with a flurry of quick blows from her spear. Violence rained from her like water--and then she healed him on her way to her next battle. No questions, no conditions, just pure kindness. The usual need to measure himself against those around him was quiet in her wake. And Revali couldn’t understand it. But how to get to know more about her? A fish and bird may fall in love, but where would they live?

This fic could be a oneshot or novel length depending on how far down the hole I fall. I need it to cover time, but it could be done in linked vignettes or with actually covering events in detail. I may elect to do a oneshot just to get it done and out of my system faster. So much fic to write, so little time.

Expect trans!Revali, polyamorous Zoras, scary competent Mipha, songbird Revali, love confessions that are made up entirely of berating Link for not loving Mipha the way she wants him to, and breaking these characters a little outside of their assigned roles in BotW and Age of Calamity. Background Link x Zelda, and Urbosa x Zelda’s Mom.

- Epic desert romance about Urbosa and Zelda’s mom: 🏜🏝⚡

I just think Urbosa should kiss women and Zelda’s mom should get more development and maybe a name or something. Also, lightning imagery/metaphors/play.

It also went way over my head that Riju wasn’t Urbosa’s daughter the first time I played BotW, so now I want to write about the Gerudo queen who refused to produce an heir. The Gerudo are fascinating and have a very interesting cutlure, but I think it could be examined from a nonbinary perspective that rejected pregnancy and wanting to find a husband. Not in like a hateful way, but in a way that examines if that’s really right for everyone. There’s that shop in town that sells Voe armor, after all. Maybe finding a husband and having children isn’t something you have to do if you don’t want to. And Urbosa really doesn’t want to.

[caitlesshea]

you make a fool of death with your beauty

For @blood-suits-and-tears for the TOG HQ Secret Santa! I couldn’t resist immortal husbands + found family and I hope you like it!

“Nico? Nico!” Joe tries to move but everything feels stuck. 

After a couple of minutes he’s finally able to turn over and through the wreckage he sees Nicolò laying underneath something heavy.

“Nicolò,” Joe wheezes just as Nicky stirs and moves his head to look at Joe.

“Yusuf.” Nicky reaches his hand out and Joe grasps it as he crawls closer to Nicky. 

Joe’s able to move what looks like a seat off of Nicky and they both notice the open doorway as they get up slowly and stumble through it.

“Survivors! We have survivors! I need a medic!”

Joe and Nicky look at each other with wide eyes as they turn as one to see the mangled subway car behind them.

“What?” Joe’s about to ask when suddenly they’re surrounded by rescue workers and EMT’s.

The questions come in rapid fire as they’re taken to a triage situation and Joe feels like his head is going to explode.

Yes, they were on the subway together.

No, they don’t remember the crash.

Yes, they feel fine and would like to go home.

Joe leans his forehead against Nicky’s, thankful his husband is okay. He wipes some of the blood off of his forehead, a little concerned there’s not even a scrape on either of them, but thankful nonetheless.

“We’re okay,” Joe whispers in Italian. Nicky nods in return and grabs his hand, absently running his fingers over Joe’s simple wedding ring. 

“I don’t remember the crash.” Nicky looks at him with wide eyes and Joe kisses him.

“Neither do I.”

“Just flashes, two women together at a shooting range, two men playing cards, and a man and another woman somewhere, Greece maybe?” 

Joe’s breath catches and he looks at Nicky, confused.

“You saw all that, too?”

“Sì. Was it a dream?”

“I don’t know.” Joe runs a hand over his side, his tattered and blood covered shirt makes it looks like he was stabbed with something but like Nicky there’s not even a scratch.

“Okay gentlemen,” Officer Keane starts as he walks over to them. “Looks like the medics have checked you out, so you’re free to go. Here’s my card if you remember something and we’ll be in touch if we need your statements for anything.”

“Thank you, sir,” Joe jumps off the back of the ambulance and helps Nicky get down as well.

“We can have one of the officers drop you off somewhere so you’re not walking around the city like this.” 

“Oh.” Joe looks down at both of their dusty and ruined clothes and nods. “Yes please, that would be nice.”

It’s not until they’re sitting in the car that Joe realizes how tired he is. Nicky’s head is lolling onto his shoulder and Joe brings his arm around Nicky to pull him closer.

When they finally pull up in front of their apartment building Joe grumbles at their five story walk up. Nicky makes a protesting noise as he wakes up and Joe shushes him as they make their way into the building.

He has half a mind to grab coffee and a pastry from the bakery at ground level that they work at but Joe would much rather lay down in their bed.

Their studio apartment has served them well over the years; artwork, rugs, and plants taking up a majority of the space, but it’s home.

Two broke college kids when they first moved in and now it’s over ten years later and they’re married and still sharing the same full sized bed. Joe smiles. 

Not much has changed from when they met as young kids and decided to follow each other here for school. 

“We should shower first, Joe.”

Joe slips out of his musings and looks down at himself and grimaces. “Yeah, we should.” 

“I think the clothes are toast.”

Joe chuckles warmly. “Seems that way. C’mon, we can both fit.”

“Yusuf,” Nicky says exasperated. “You know we can’t.”

“Please, amore mio?” 

Nicky must sense Joe’s desperation because he agrees quickly and they both jump into the tiny shower.

Joe relishes in the hot water as Nicky massages his scalp and winds his fingers through his curls.

“How are we not injured?” Joe asks as they step out of the shower and get into sweats so they can lay in bed together.

“I don’t know.” Nicky turns to face him and Joe pulls him closer.

“I was so scared, Nico. You were under all that rubble and - ”

“Shh, Yusuf, we’re okay.” Nicky brings Joe’s face towards his neck and Joe sinks into the familiar embrace. 

We’re okay.

It’s Joe’s last conscious thought before he succumbs to sleep.

In the morning, Joe’s barely coherent enough to get out of bed, much less open the coffee shop they’ve been working at since college, that they now own.

“Yusuf, sit. I’ll open.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sì. It won’t take long. Here.” Nicky pushes Joe’s favorite chai tea latte into his hands and Joe sits down at a table to sketch while Nicky busies himself with opening the coffee shop. 

Joe’s so lost in his sketching that he barely registers the front door opening until Nicky’s voice carries through the shop.

“We’re closed!”

Joe looks up and drops his charcoal as his mouth hangs open.

“Nicolò,” Joe whispers as Nicky comes from the back of the shop.

“Joe? What?” Joe watches Nicky freeze and drop the towel he’s holding.

They both turn almost comically to look at the strangers in their shop, almost like they’re seeing ghosts. 

The familiarity is hard to swallow because standing in front of them are the people from their dreams during the crash.

“This is a nice place you have here. Espresso?” The tall woman with short black hair and piercing blue eyes asks and Nicky nods as he goes to grab her a drink.

“Uh, anyone else?” Nicky asks as an afterthought and as everyone prattles off their order Joe stands to help, thankful for something to do.

“Why did we dream of them?” Joe whispers to Nicky as they start making drinks. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Do you think they caused the crash?”

Nicky looks at him sharply. “Do you?”

Joe looks over at the people scattered throughout their shop and feels something tug in his chest. “No.”

Nicky nods his agreement and leans in to kiss Joe and Joe smiles as they carry the various drinks to the six others.

Various thank you’s and a couple of happy moans later, Joe and Nicky sit down at the last empty table.

“I’m sure you have questions.” The same woman speaks again.

They nod.

“I’m Andromache the Scythian, but you can call me Andy. This is Quynh, James Copley, Sébastien le Livre, Nile Freeman, and Lykon.

“Joe al-Kaysani.” Joe points to himself.

“Nicky di Genova.” Nicky responds and grabs Joe’s hand. 

Andy nods. “You own the shop?”

“Yes.”

“And you live upstairs?”

“How do you?”

“I just do.” Andy’s no nonsense voice is truly something to behold. 

Joe doesn’t like it but he nods anyways.

“Why are you here? Why did we dream of you?” Nicky gets right to the point and Joe squeezes his hand.

“We dream each other,” James says slowly. “When we die.”

“When we?” Joe swallows roughly.

“You died on that train, but you came back to life.” Quynh chirps in a sing song voice. 

“We what?”

“You can’t die,” Andy says as she drinks her espresso like it’s no big deal.

“We can’t die?”

“Not anymore,” Nile responds this time. “I know it’s confusing.”

“You think?” Joe snaps and Nicky rubs his thumb over Joe’s hand to calm him down.

“We’re immortal. All of us and now you two, as well. We each have our own story but mine started thousands of years ago, and we dream of each other when we first die, until we meet, so we can find each other,” Andy says in one long winded breath and Joe and Nicky stare at her with wide eyes. 

“We can’t die?” Joe whispers.

“Not anymore,” Sébastien responds gruffly. 

“And we don’t age?” Nicky, ever pragmatic, asks. 

“You’ll forever be the ages you are now.” Lykon points to them.

“We, we can’t leave.” Joe thinks of their home, their shop, their friends.

“You have about ten years before people start to get suspicious, especially if you adjust your appearances, but we can deal with that when the time comes,” James responds and Sébastien snorts.

“We don’t have to go with you?” 

“Not if you don’t want to.” James looks sharply at Andy and she nods.

“Eventually the people around you will age and die, but…”

“It’s just us,” Nicky’s outburst is met with confused stares. “It’s just us, our families are gone.”

“But, we have the shop and we don’t want to leave it.” Joe adds.

“Then you won’t.” Nile smiles at them. “Plus maybe you could use another barista?”

“Wait really?” Joe asks bewildered.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve spent any time in this city, I think we can stay,” Andy states and everyone releases a collective breath.

“Really, Boss?” Sébastien asks.

“Yeah, Book.” 

“Book?” Joe and Nicky ask. 

“Booker,” Sébastien responds. “It’s a nickname.”

“It’s very original, darling.” James leans across the table to kiss Sébastien, whose face has turned slightly pink. 

Joe smiles at them and leans closer to Nicky. 

They look at their new friends as they let their voices wash over them. The gentle teasing that only comes from knowing someone a long time.

Time that Joe and Nicky seem to have an abundance of, now.

“Forever, hayati,” Nicky whispers with a reverence that makes Joe’s heart sing.

“Forever.”