Dru: Kit Herondale.

Love idea that Michael is so much stronger than he looks.

Jake's strong too obviously, typical Hephaestus kids strength,but no one expects Michael be as strong as he is.

But this kid is hauling around people as a medic. Not to mention draw weight for a actual bow can be heavy especially for expert archers pretty sure. Any Apollo kid who main archery or are medics likely have lot of strength especially with their arms.

Michael is both an archer and an active medic(as we know Will learned under him). He's definitely strong.

Jake gets hurt and can't walk much on his own and Michael has no problem getting him to the infirmary.

Jake is a flustered mess,Beckendorf 100% is teasing him about it later hdhdg

This goes with other Apollo kids as well

Will's throwing people over his shoulder without second thought. Imagine Nico in the infirmary during the 3 days and just watching Will throw an fussy injured Sherman Yang over his shoulder and taking him to a cot to get him to lay down. No trouble doing it what so ever.

Lee too. 100% you have Luke, most respected and looked up to demigod in camp, who just gets picked up by Lee like he weighs nothing. Gods help him when he's in trouble.

Lee especially i feel pretty strong. He has even more years of being at camp and is fully grown. But like his siblings, he looks a whole lot more harmless than he is.

Idk why think idea of Apollo kids being perceived as harmless but able to absolutely wreck you is so fun. Think it fits them

Apollo is god of music, poetry, healing. But also of plagues and archery(usually used in war). He's god of the sun, which helps give life but can also harm you in the same vein. He's the god of truth, bringing light to one's own guilt and purifying them of it.

Despite everything he is, he's often seen for his lighter side.

Think his children being seen similarly is interesting

Michael Headcanons because why not :3

Demi

Chinese descent

Was born in Olympia,Washington.

Michael's mom was a creative writer teacher and a poet,along with doubleing as her school's archery couch. She passed suddenly during a wreck why driving them home after she finished couching that evening.

He ended up getting chased by a monster after he refused to get out when it was disguised as a worried passerby.

He was found by Hedge and taken to camp.

Scar along his side from the accident

Loves his hair being played with, it makes him think of his mom. But he definitely won't admit it.

Has a bow made for him to fit his stance more properly

Terrible liar

Has truth abilities,usually noticing visual clues that someone gives when they lie or holding something back.

Dude struggles not to give in to his little siblings. He's a bigger softy than he seems.

He will keep bringing random animals into the cabin if he's not stopped. No one knows where he gets them.

Loves climbing on anything. You'll usually see him perched on something that's definitely not a seat.

Good at tracking

Definitely punk

He definitely has a habit of love chomps. Especially as a little kid

Kayla will never tell her older brother in a million billion years. Plus one extra.

But she knows more about Lee Fletcher than he does.

It is not something she did on purpose. Nor is it information she necessarily wants, she most certainly did not ask for it. Nor is it information she will offer.

She will not tell him that she knows the crumple of Lee’s face when he tells a lie. She will not tell him she knows the stark pain in his shoulders at the end of the day. She will not tell him she knows the grooved scars on the palms of his hands from bitten-sharp nails. She will not tell him she knows the sounds of his quiet, pillow-muffled sobs as well as or better than she knows the sound of her father’s voice.

Instead she will watch him. And she will meet Lee’s tired eyes. And she will nod to him, and he will nod back, and they will both look at Will, exhaling.

———

The first time she sees him she is hallucinating.

Genuinely. Medically diagnosed and everything.

“Kayla,” Will whispers, and there is a strain in his voice, as there always is when one of them is sick. “Kayla, dolly, the cloth needs to stay on your head.”

“Cold,” she sobs, “please, Will, I’m so cold.” Dolly. Dolly. He calls her dolly when she’s crying, when the tips of her fingers are bleeding and her knees are scraped raw and she screams if he gets too close to her. “‘M so —”

Her teeth clack hard together so hard her mouth glues shut. And the ice in her finger and toenails fires up her veins and pricks through all of her capillaries, turning her solid, and it burns, and it aches, and she bawls enough that acid burns up her throat and dribbles down her chin, down her shirt, in her bed. And over the heart pounding in her ears she hears her older brother exhale a soft little broken moan and choke it back just as fast and his always-warm hands brush over her cheeks, and she groans and squirms away from it and cries harder, and he whispers “Hold on, dolly, the fever’s almost broken, I can feel it,” and she opens her eyes and he is there, hair longer, hair neater, lab coat starched and collar covered in old Star Wars stickers, bulky glasses barely clinging to his face, tears soaking his long, angular face.

And Kayla squints, and the freezing ice recedes ever so slightly, sparking just under her skin, and she tilts her head, and she stares at him, at his freckle-free face, and whispers, “…Will?”

And he squeezes his eyes tighter and begs, “One more time, kiddo, I’m so sorry. One more time. I can’t help you if I can’t touch you. Pull back the light, baby, I can’t see, you have to control it just a little more. Just enough so it doesn’t burn. Please.”

And she squints again and Will-not-Will wavers, and the infirmary lights blink off his tears, off the lens of his glasses, and the. she squints again and the lights are dimmer, and the lab coat is gone, and his hair is frizzier.

“What,” she croaks, and Will pats her hair, and his hands are rough like she’s used to, and his round face is wet, and his scrubs are barf-stained, again, and he is smiling, tears dripping into his mouth, bright blue eyes clear, and he laughs and touches his forehead to hers.

“One-oh-one,” he whispers, shoulders shaking. “You’re safe, dolly. Your brain is out of the oven. Gods. Holy shit. Holy shit, Holy God, Holy Hera.” And he starts to pray.

She exhales hard, exhales, and forgets about it.

———

The next time her brain is not cooking hard enough her proteins are denaturing.

The next time she is sleep deprived, which does not help her determine reality.

She is lucid enough to notice the change, though.

She should not be awake. This much she knows. Will had sent her to bed hours ago, a half-hour after Austin and a full hour after the kids — as is her right; she is a full 13 years old — and she went, not without grumbling. And she meant to sleep. She usually does. But the moon was bright, and unusually warm. And the fairy lights twinkled with twice as much laughter than usual. And the audiobook her daddy sent her was just so enticing, just so flowery and beautiful, and as she listened to the gravel-low voice of the woman narrating and stared out the window she could see it playing out, plain as day, over the silver-washed hill of Thalia’s tree and the gentle giggling of the Atlantic waves.

She’s not supposed to be up late enough to watch Will creep in.

But she is, and that’s that. She hears the creak of the rickety screen door, slow like he’s trying to keep it quiet, and holds her breath, careful to make all her muscles react to keep her from being seen. The cabin is big but not that big and she sees him quickly, out of the corner of her half-closed eyes, tiptoe careful across the wooden floorboards, hopping over the noisiest ones, resting at the side of each of their beds and waiting, watching at the ends of them, shoulders dropping, eyes blackened and eyebags heavy. After a moment at each he reaches out his burned hands, resting gently on her siblings’ foreheads, and closes his eyes, exhaling, letting the fiery warmth from his palms spread slowly through their veins, wrapping strands of sunlight neatly around them like spider silk. As it recedes he sighs, in exhaustion or relief, and holds his hand, for a second, breathing in, breathing out, and moving on.

He comes to her last.

She has relaxed her breathing by then. She is thirteen years old and remembers every day of it; knows how to twitch her muscles and murmur in gentle sleepiness, knows how to breathe til her heart goes slow and flicker her eyelids so her face shows its dreaming. Daddy checks on her too, when she’s home, and she likes to stay up for him, likes to wait, likes to savour the feel of his string-callused fingertips and soft cool palms.

“I know you’re not sleeping, you little twerp.“

He flickers again — she sees it this time — and the heat of his hands fade a bit. His face gets a little longer, chin a little pointier, and the wild curls around his head mellow into something wavier, something gentler and more tamed. The glasses balancing on his wide nose are unbelievably thick, thicker than Julia’s whose prescription is a joke, and make his blue eyes look buggy, beetle-shaped. He’s got half as many freckles but that could be the moonlight. His smile is the same.

“I know what REM feels like, you know.”

She says nothing and keeps breathing. He sighs. He strokes a thumb against her forehead and it is familiar, and she knows, immediately then, that it is her brother who strokes her, who guards the foot of her bed.

“I’m gonna go get ready for bed. If you’re not asleep by then I’m gonna smother you, ya pain in the ass.”

He pulls away and she watches, follows the thwack of his falling-apart Converse, the rise of his gentle humming. He pulls tiny bathroom’s door shut and the humming swells along with the fireflies, echoing soft and melodic in the kind-of-big cabin, and she means to stay awake, really. She wants to watch him transform again, wants to watch his shoulders grow back and his spine stretch straighter. Wants to see the familiar roundness of his cheeks.

But his voice is so beautiful, and the scrape of his toothbrush is as rhythmic as ever, and the moon is so high in the sky. Her audiobook fades to silence as she slips away, warmed, into the cradle of her bed.

———

The third time she sees him there is no excuse.

It is the dead middle of summer and he is exhausted. The camp swells with the sum of them all, with the drum of running footsteps and crashing swords and crowing laughter. Her brother lives in the infirmary, practically; no matter how many times he is dragged out he keeps sneaking back, keeps slipping out of his friends’ sight and falling right back into his scrubs, hair pulled back.

“You are not supposed to be here,” Kayla says crossly. “Your shifts are done for the week.”

He smiles guiltily and the change is immediate. The slant of his shoulders is identical, the curve of his grin is unchanged, but the glossiness of his eyes fades away, and the strange ghost of her brother takes full shape. He is different, in the clear sunlight. A familiar stranger. He grins at her widely and turns on his heel, strolling to the mortal medicine cabinet.

“And who died and made you head honcho, Sunshine?” She blinks in surprise, glancing down at her hands. That is a new one. Sunshine.“It’s the busy season. I’m only keeping up with demand.”

“You’re gonna wear yourself right out,” she hears herself say. “Right out, and then what?”

“And then the sun will keep shining,” her brother says. “Besides, you’ll be taking over in no time. You’re already better than me, squirt.”

It’s an odd thing to say — she isn’t. By virtue of her parentage she can heal, and she can sing the hymns. But her strength is in her bow and her violin; her strings, not the stretch of bandages or shine of the suture. Will knows it. This brother, though, the one who stands in his place, is not speaking to her.

“I am?”

“‘Course. You know anyone else who can drag an errant soul right back into a body?”

Yes. She’s seen Will do it on more than one occasion, on more than one justification. She’s seen how it makes Chiron’s lips tighten and the atmosphere go dark. There is healing, and then there is blasphemy and challenge. Will walks the line like no one has since Zeus struck the challenger clean off the Earth.

This brother is not talking to her.

“Am I really going to take over, Lee?”

She says it carefully, because she isn’t sure. There are no pictures and Will tells no stories. But she hears whispers, sometimes, from the scattered few who knew them both, who watch Will corral the lot of them to breakfast or take the reigns of the chariot or calm hysterics with a touch, who whisper: “Sometimes I look at him and it’s like seeing a ghost.”

Her brother smiles a wide thing at her. It is as soft as she remembers. “Course, baby. No doubt in my mind.”

———

The fourth time she sees Lee Fletcher, she makes him come.

She waits very carefully. He comes when Will’s tired, she hypothizes. When his own strength won’t stand. So she waits, for the second wave of camp flu, for his lead on the climbing wall, for the rare nights when Gracie gets cranky and homesick and stomps around the cabin, throwing things and yelling. She waits for the look in his eyes, for the glassiness to smooth into something soft and reverent, something timeless.

It does not come when she expects.

The fourth time they are sitting together. Or, Will is sitting, legs tucked under him on the side bench, and Kayla stands, breathing careful, arms pulling elastic taut.

Her third missed shot, he is behind her.

“Relax you jaw,” he suggests. “Your tension is throwing you off. Let yourself hit the edge — it’s a new challenge, kid. No need for a bullseye.”

“I always get a bullseye,” she argues.

Lee smiles. His eyes are different, she realizes. They’re — constant. Blue. Like hydrangeas.

Will’s change with the sky.

“Bullseyes are a process.” He puts a steady hand on her elbow, tilting it slightly. “You gotta aim for the bigger picture before you focus on the details. The bullseye will come. Start with hitting the target.”

She huffs, scowling, but he’s right, and on her fourth shot the arrow lodges, just on the edge of the compacted wood.

Lee cheers. That, she sees clear as day, is identical, from the strain of his arms to the crow of his whooping laughter. He even does the same clumsy, dorky dance that sends him sprawling.

Kayla smiles past the lump in her throat.

———

The fifth, sixth, and seventh times pass without her counting, as does everyone one beyond. They happen in stretches and in the blink of an eye — the shapes of his mouth when he yawns, the drawl of his fed-up sarcasm. The weight of his elbow on the top of her head, grinning as she shoves him off, the shake of his deep, bone-rooted sigh when he thinks she’s asleep and his entire body strains, curled up under his favourite quilt. The weight of his ‘v’ in I love you.

She almost stops looking.

“What did he look like?” she blurts, one evening when he takes them to the beach. The rest of them are up ahead, Austin chasing the younger ones up the muddy sand.

Will freezes, just barely, then walks on with a forced lightness, swinging his loose arms between them.

“Who?” he asks, voice light.

Kayla gnaws the inside of her cheek.

“Your older brother.”

“I had four, at one point.”

He says it quiet like he does at the campfire, when it’s only the older kids left but she’s managed to stick around, holding her breath so they won’t notice and send her away. When Will lies back on a log and matches his breathing to the flames, eyes unseeing, and Annabeth watches him carefully and whispers, “Play us something, Will.” And he picks up the guitar he keeps dusty under his bed and sings something soft like there’s no hardness left inside him. No bowstring.

“When he laughed, you could hear it across camp,” he says quietly.

Kayla had not specified which brother but he knows anyway, had been waiting for her ask, and she strains to hear, now, leans in over the turn of the waves and shifts of the sands and strives for every note, every chord of his voice. “He invented a full name for me so he could holler it when I got in trouble. William Andrew.”

“I didn’t know he made that up.”

A ghost of a smile turns Will’s lips. “Yeah, it stuck real good. Even Chiron forgets I wasn’t born with it, actually. He yells it, too.”

He tilts his heart to the sky and stares at the clouds, exhaling, hands still by his sides.

“I was his favourite,” he says finally. “He wasn’t supposed to have anybody, but he loved me. He watched me real careful. He was —” he swallows — “I loved my brother, you know. To the sun and beyond it.”

He stops, turning to the waves. She lets him and watches his back, watches the shape of his scapulae under his camp shirt.

“I wish I still had him.”

The air shifts beside him, then. She sees Lee next to him, this time, not in place of him, with a broad hand on his shaking shoulder, a tanned forehead pressed to his temple. He turns to her, when Will breathes normally again, and winks, blinking back away as the clouds move from the sun.

“I think he’d be real proud of you.”

“Yeah?”

Kayla hesitates. “I mean — yeah. You’re like him, you know? You stand like he does.”

Will is smiling, softly, eyes red.

“I’ll have to show you a picture of him, sometime.”

“Yeah.” Kayla smiles, exhaling deeply. “Yeah, I’d like to see him.”

ao3 turns 15 today

reblog if youre older than ao3

(there's a lot of people asking about this, but the legal age to use social media is 13, except in few countries. so yes, there are people here under 15)

WAY TOO FUCKING TRUE!

If there’s one thing I learned since I signed up on 9/1/23, 11:42:15 AM, it’s that #michael yew takes up too much of my time.

coming across a post from a mutual who hasn't opted in yet

this week's word is...

Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

Aphrodite cabin playing dress to impress because i think they'd love it aka the real reason chb isn't allowed to have technology

right, so this is odd but I just had the WEIRDEST revelation and went what if I made Michael Yew trans, gave him a massive self-hate arc when he hits puberty and make Jake the best boyfriend ever for just being awesome through it?

...

so I did.

and I can't be asked to make a proper story out of my random chunks of writing to put on ao3 so I'm posting it here lol

just... don't question where my brain went with this, it's cool, I'm insane

😎 👍🏻

first bit is a lil angsty and cringe bc I havent edited properly but the rest is basically crack and chaos

~~~

Jake wasn't all that surprised when he found Michael in their tree, staring at the sky miserably. Instead, he sat beside his boyfriend and joined him in watching the clouds. "What's up?"

Michael sighed heavily, muttering something under his breath that Jake didn't catch. He raised an eyebrow at the son of Apollo, and the archer huffed, covering his face with his hands as he spoke.

"Maturing."

Jake paused. "Sorry?"

His boyfriend groaned, rubbing at his eyes and refusing to look at Jake. "I'm maturing."

"Right. And...? Isn't that what everyone does as they get older?"

"No. Well, yes, but like..." He sighed, spitting it out. "My body is maturing and I hate it."

Jake stopped, realisation washing over him. "Oh. So, you're..."

"Menstruating." Michael said through gritted teeth. "And it sucks. It doesn't feel right. Also, hip curvature equally sucks."

He looked at the son of Apollo, faintly befuddled. "Hip curvature?"

Michael groaned, then sat up and pulled his shirt tightly around his waist, and Jake paused as he spotted what the archer had been hiding under loose t-shirts and hoodies.

Oh.

His boyfriend's hips had indeed curved, forming a slim waist and slight hourglass figure that most girls would die for. Michael, however, looked absolutely miserable about it, seemingly under the impression Jake might be put off or horrified by the change, but the son of Hephaestus just looked at his boyfriend and noted how it accentuated his natural beauty. He gently moved to wrap his arms around the other, carefully pulling the archer into his lap, and found his hands fit just perfectly in his boyfriend's curves, meaning he was easily able to hold the smaller boy, and it felt right. Michael had tears in his eyes, and Jake pulled him closer, resting his head on the other's shoulder as the son of Apollo refused to meet his eyes, staring out into the trees stubbornly.

"I think you're beautiful." He hummed, pressing a kiss to the archer's jaw, and Michael blushed, but still avoided eye contact, seemingly embarrassed as he sniffled quietly. Jake smiled and cupped his boyfriend's chin, turning his face to look at him. "Hey. I don't care that your hips are curvy, or that you're on your period, or any of that shit. Actually, I do care, and I think it makes you even more beautiful. This," He slipped his hands under his boyfriend's shirt, tracing his fingers along his boyfriend's sides and outlining his curvy figure. "Is not something to be ashamed of. I love you for who you are, and that will never change, yeah?"

Michael smiled slightly, then sighed, looking at himself in disgust. "I'm a girl."

"No you're not. And if you are, I'll love you just the same. Doesn't matter to me."

Michael snickered slightly at that. "Are you seriously saying you'd turn bisexual just for me?"

Jake smirked, shrugging. "Yup. I'm yours, no matter what."

His boyfriend looked at him for a minute, then grinned, leaning forwards to kiss him. "I don't deserve you."

"Likewise."

"I'm still a boy, though."

He grinned. "Good. Thought so."

Michael snickered, then sighed and looked back down at himself, frowning. "But this still isn't good."

"Why?"

"The bone structure isn't as strong." He said, matter-of-factly, and Jake smirked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"So, it makes you more delicate?"

Michael sighed, rolling his eyes. "Technically, yes."

"Good to know. Guess I'll have to be extra gentle." He grinned, and Michael slapped him lightly, huffing, but there was a smile twitching at the son of Apollo's lips.

"Shut up. I'm not fragile."

"Only to me."

"Shh. I'm fine. See?" He hit himself in the ribs, hard, and Jake paused, grabbing his boyfriend's hands and looking at him, unimpressed.

"Don't hurt yourself."

"I'm fine."

"Please."

Michael looked at him for a moment, then sighed and nodded, leaning his head on Jake's shoulder. Jake smiled, moving his hands back to the other's waist, secretly loving the feel of his boyfriend's curves, not disgusted in the slightest by the change, and instead enjoyed the way the son of Apollo did feel more delicate, in contrast to his normally hard, stony exterior. Michael was unbelievably strong in some ways, but in others he was much more fragile, particularly mentally, and Jake sometimes had to take the initiative, not that he minded, because in times like this, Michael let himself be taken care of, and the son of Hephaestus enjoyed it.

~~

He soon found out that the only downside to reassuring the son of Apollo that he loved the way he looked, was when Michael used that to his advantage, and managed to twist Jake into a complete mess, simply by losing a bet.

Michael had reluctantly informed him earlier in the day that he'd managed to lose a bet with Kayla, and she was making him pay the price at campfire. Therefore, Jake was expecting his boyfriend to be forced into playing his guitar during sing-along, or telling bad jokes onstage, or something else the son of Apollo would greatly dislike.

He did not expect him to walk in wearing his sister's clothes.

Michael was dragged into the amphitheater by a giggling Kayla, the son of Apollo wearing skinny jeans, a crop top, and his camp necklace tied around his bow, with only the bronze pendant Jake had given him on show. Jake felt his brain short-circuit as he looked at the other boy, noting how ridiculously good Michael looked in those clothes, with his slim figure and tanned skin shown off brilliantly. Nyssa whistled quietly next to him, nudging her brother in the ribs.

"Kay mentioned she was giving Mikey a glow up as punishment for losing, but I didn't think she'd be able to get him looking that good. Damn, when did he grow into his height like that?"

Jake just stared, completely and utterly entranced by the other boy. Kayla soon spotted him gaping, and nudged her brother, gesturing to Jake and grinning. Michael turned and spotted him, instantly blushing scarlet when he noticed the son of Hephaestus staring at him, and he smirked, winking at the other boy, which absolutely did not help with Jake's current state of mind. Nyssa snickered and poked him.

"Dude, you're basically drooling over him right now, you know that?"

Jake slowly peeled his eyes off his boyfriend, face bright red in embarrassment as he looked away, instead meeting Nyssa's eyes as his sister smirked at him. "I- shut up." He blushed, and Nyssa grinned.

"Wow. You really are a simp."

"Shut up! I just... didn't expect it. He looks good, though."

His sister smirked, looking back at the son of Apollo. "True. Since when did puberty hit him, my gods."

Jake snickered. "About a month ago. He was really upset, got his period and everything."

Nyssa winced. "Poor guy. Confused?"

"Nah, he knew what was going on. Just embarrassed, mostly. Disgusted by himself, which I wasn't okay with, but I think we've sorted it. He had to go to Ellie for period advice, which he was not happy about either."

"Hm. A late bloomer, clearly."

"Apparently so."

"He's grown into it, though. If he was a girl, he could totally pull that figure off. Damn."

"Yup." Jake was staring again, and he knew it. Michael seemed to be finding it endlessly amusing. Nyssa suddenly poked him again.

"Not gonna lie, I don't think you're the only one checking him out." She hummed, nodding to a boy that had slipped through the crowd to sit next to Michael, eyes trained on the son of Apollo's hips and waist. Jake scowled as he sat down beside Michael, much too close for anyone's comfort, and quite clearly started flirting, trying to touch the son of Apollo and wrap an arm around his waist. Michael, however, was not amused in the slightest, and Jake could see him snapping at the other boy and pushing him away. The camper didn't seem to get the hint and kept pushing, until Michael rolled his eyes and pointed to his necklace, then at Jake, who was glaring the guy down, resisting the urge to punch his face into a wall. Michael seemed quite amused by the angry fire blaring in his boyfriend's eyes, and eventually managed to shove the camper away, but Jake could still see far too many eyes on his boyfriend, and it made him grit his teeth. He'd never been a massively jealous person, but right now he was feeling seriously possessive; the urge to walk over, make out with the archer and hold him tightly, clear to everyone that the son of Apollo was his, becoming very strong in the back of his mind.

He just about managed to avoid that until the end of campfire, and then as everyone was packing up, the other boy just grinned at him and disappeared back to cabin seven, leaving Jake fuming as he returned to cabin nine. Jackass.

~~

"Hey."

Jake was sitting against one of the trees bordering the lake, just relaxing and watching some of the younger campers splash around in the water, until he heard a very familiar voice and looked up.

That was his first mistake.

Michael was stood next to him, grinning and leaning against the tree, wearing a similar outfit to the night before with low rise skinny jeans and a slightly cropped shirt. He was still wearing his bronze pendant, with his bow slung over his shoulder, and the son of Apollo looked absolutely amazing. Jake just stared at him for a moment, then shook his head and quickly looked away, training his eyes on one of the trees on the other side of the lake. Michael snickered, flopping down next to him, and Jake groaned internally. This wasn't going to end well for him. Michael just laughed. "Are you ignoring me?"

"No." Jake replied, continuing to stare at the trees. "Just not looking."

"Why?" He could hear Michael's grin in his voice, and he knew the other boy knew exactly what he was doing to Jake. Asshole.

"Because I can't have a conversation with you if I can't think straight. Literally."

Michael snickered, shuffling up so they were shoulder to shoulder, and Jake sighed heavily as the other boy spoke, smirking. "Do you like it?"

He huffed. "Too much, along with half of camp." He grumbled, and Michael snickered again.

"Jealous?"

"Unbelievably jealous. I was about ready to punch that guy last night."

He snorted. "Wasn't the nicest guy, I'll be honest. Bit touchy."

"Looked it."

"You wanted to kill him, didn't you?"

"Just a bit. Gods, I don't know what the fuck you've done to me, but I completely stopped working last night. You melted my brain into a puddle of sappy thoughts."

Michael laughed at that, but Jake had noticed a new camper, roughly their age, quite clearly checking Michael out with a smirk. He muttered something to his buddy, and then they were both staring at the son of Apollo and oh, Jake felt the possessive urges return. He just about managed to keep a cap on it, but Michael saw right through him and snickered, nudging the son of Hephaestus teasingly. "You alright there, Tool Boy?"

"No." He growled.

"And why's that?"

"Because there's about five other people checking you out here, and it's pissing me off."

"What are you going to do about it?"

He turned and saw the son of Apollo grinning at him innocently, and Jake sighed heavily, knowing the archer had got his way quite easily here, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much.

"Jackass." He muttered as he leant forwards, and Michael laughed as they kissed. It wasn't as long as Jake would have liked, considering there were about ten little kids in view, but it certainly did the job as Jake spotted several shocked or annoyed looks when they pulled away, much to his amusement. Michael snickered, and the son of Hephaestus hummed, gently grabbing the smaller boy and pulling him onto his lap before he could protest. Michael smirked, leaning back to look at him as Jake wound his arms around the archer's waist protectively, and Jake shrugged, smiling.

"Someone feeling a bit possessive?" The son of Apollo teased, grinning, and Jake hummed, watching the guys that had been checking Michael out huff and walk away, rolling their eyes. Good.

"Possibly. You're absolutely fucking beautiful." He murmured, resting his head on the smaller boy's shoulder, and Michael blushed brightly, but smiled.

"Does that mean I should borrow my sister's clothes more often?" He smirked, and Jake huffed.

"If you want me worked up into a complete mess on a daily basis." He grumbled, moving his hands to hold his boyfriend's waist, rubbing his thumbs along the other's sides and tracing his curves. "I'm glad you're embracing this, though."

Michael shrugged, humming and leaning into the son of Hephaestus' touch. "I thought over what you said. And then Carly walked in when I was changing and completely

freaked and made me play dress up with her and Kayla."

Jake snickered. "You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"Hm." He shrugged. "Carly supposedly figured out what my best colour is or some shit. And apparently Kayla had wanted to put me in a bunch of random different outfits for a while now, so she loved it."

Jake smirked. On the one hand, it was hard to imagine Michael willingly playing dress up with his sisters, but on the other hand he knew the son of Apollo would do anything to see his siblings smile, so it wasn't all that surprising. "And what did Carly say your best colour was?"

"Green, apparently."

"Do you even own anything green?"

"Nope. I have no idea how she figured that out, but she made me wear a green shirt and... yeah, I kinda see her point."

Jake raised an eyebrow at that. Michael was never one to ever think he looked good in anything, particularly with his history with his body, but if he thought he looked decent in green... That was interesting. He wondered what magic Carly had done to make the son of Apollo like wearing something.

"Interesting. Is that another thing that's likely to make my brain fry?"

Michael snickered. "Yeah, probably."

"I'm happy you think it looks good on you." He grinned, pressing a kiss to the smaller boy's jaw, and Michael blushed.

"Shut up."

"Nope." He smirked, pressing another kiss to his boyfriend's jawline. "You're beautiful, and perfect, and amazing, and I'm the luckiest person ever because I get to date you and those losers don't."

Michael blushed brightly, his ears tinting red, and Jake grinned, amused by the reaction. Michael rolled his eyes, but kissed him anyway. "You're such a sap."

"You love it."

"Shut up."

~~

Jake frowned as he walked past the Apollo table at breakfast, noting Michael wasn't there, and looked at Lee in confusion. The older son of Apollo grimaced.

"He's back in the cabin. Not feeling well."

That made Jake frown. Michael rarely got sick- and never that badly either- it was a side effect of being the son of the god of sickness, so either Lee was lying, or his boyfriend was embarrassed and hadn't given his brother the true reason for why he was staying inside.

Jake popped in the Apollo cabin after breakfast to check on him, and found Michael curled up in a pile of blankets on his bed, holding his stomach and looking absolutely miserable. Jake walked over and carefully climbed the ladder, sitting next to the archer, and Michael looked at him for a minute, then sighed. "I'm fine, don't worry."

Jake raised an eyebrow. "If you were fine, you'd be outside. What's up?"

Michael huffed. "It's just- ugh." He winced, leaning forward slightly and wrapping his arms tighter around his waist in pain. Jake looked at him in concern.

"What is it? Why are you...?"

His boyfriend groaned quietly, head now on his knees as he rocked back and forth slightly.

"Nothing. Just..." He sighed. "Cramps."

"What, like stomach cramps, or- oh." Understanding dawned on the son of Hephaestus, and Michael groaned again, nodding.

"Yeah, fucking period cramps. Shit."

"Bad?"

"Really bad. I couldn't walk earlier. Lee did a scan and told me there wasn't much he could do, I just have to wait it out. Fuck-" He groaned again, cursing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Jake winced, then looked around the cabin, searching for something. He hummed when he spotted what he was looking for, climbing down off the bed and walking over to grab a beanbag stuffed parrot. He wasn't sure whose it was, but he knew it was microwaveable, and that's all that mattered. He walked over to the small microwave they kept in the corner of cabin seven, used for reheating things or making hot packs for injuries, and plopped the parrot inside, pressing start. Michael looked at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Nyssa uses a hot water bottle to combat hers. Figured a parrot might work the same."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "You're microwaving Carly's parrot?"

"Mhm. The bean filled ones are like hot packs, just covered in fluff. Harls has a dragon one that Niss steals every so often."

The microwave beeped, and he pulled the parrot out, now very warm, and walked back over to Michael's bed, climbing up and flopping down next to the son of Apollo, passing him the parrot.

"Try it."

Michael looked at it. "What, I just hold it?" Jake smirked.

"No, you put it where it hurts, dummy."

"Oh. Right."

Michael took the parrot and placed it just below his stomach, curling back up again and humming happily. Jake smiled. "Better?"

"Yeah, actually. Thanks."

"Anytime. I am gonna get you a beanbag animal now, though. I don't want Carly to kill me for stealing hers."

Michael rolled his eyes. "I can get one myself, you know."

Jake smirked. "Where's the fun in that?"

Michael elbowed him and he snickered, then looked up as the door to the Apollo cabin opened and the rest of Michael's siblings walked in, not even noticing Jake and Michael until Sam turned and spotted them, grinning and placing his hands on his hips. "Mason. Are you trying to make a move on my brother?"

Michael rolled his eyes as Jake blushed. "No, dumbass."

"Oh, really?" Carly grinned. Jake smiled.

"I borrowed your parrot for Michael's cramps, hope you don't mind."

She looked at him for a minute, then smirked. "Ah, you're here on boyfriend duties. I see. It's fine, I use it for that anyway."

Michael huffed, and Ellie smiled, walking over and reaching up to ruffle his hair teasingly.

"Feeling better than earlier?"

He sighed. "Ish."

"Are they like, a stomach ache, or more like someone stabbing you?" Austin asked casually, flopping backwards onto his bed, and Lee suddenly grinned, moving to rummage through a cupboard in the back of the cabin.

"Why don't you try it?"

Kayla looked at him. "Sorry?"

"We have a machine that replicates the pain of a period cramp, because I convinced Chiron it could be useful for teaching people about why they are a valid excuse to skip on things."

Jake snorted. "To teach the Ares cabin, you mean?" Lee shrugged and Ellie hummed.

"Not Clarisse. She gets them bad."

Lee suddenly pulled a box out of the cupboard, blowing the dust off and smiling. "There it is. It has different settings, so why don't we get the people that experience them to put up their normal setting for the rest of us to try?"

Carly smirked. "Sure. I'll go first."

Lee explained how it worked; putting a pair of pads just below your stomach under your shirt and turning the knob up a notch at a time to reach the average pain scale. Carly hummed and placed the pads below her stomach, then turned the dial up slightly. She continued for a few notches until she started wincing, then stopped. "Five."

Kayla snatched it next, placing the pads on herself instead and turning up the dial until it hit her average and she winced. "Yeah, five."

Ellie was an eight, and Michael said that apparently he'd reached a break in his cramps, so he'd give it a go. The son of Apollo scrunched his face up as he turned the dial, flitting straight past five and eight, up to ten. There were fifteen notches on the scale, and Ellie stared at him as he grimaced in pain, taking the pads off quickly. “Ten.”

“Ten??”

He winced. “Yeah.”

Austin wandered over, picking it up off Michael’s bunk and walking over to Lee. “Can I try?”

Lee smiled at him, gesturing for his little brother to sit beside him on the bed as he talked him through it. Austin made it to a four, and he winced, looking at Kayla.

“Yeah, I see your point.”

She hummed, nodding, and Ash grabbed the machine next, him and Sam sitting on Sam’s bunk and messing with it for a bit. Ash made it to seven, grimacing, and Sam looked at Jake quickly. “Do you want to go next?”

Michael snickered. “Give it to Jake last in case he blows it up.”

Jake looked at him. “Seriously? I’m not that bad.”

“Jake, I’m surprised you haven’t seriously injured yourself yet with the amount of things you’ve accidentally blown up this month.”

“Harsh.”

Ash snorted, passing the device to Sam. “Just take it while they argue like an old married couple.”

“Hey!”

“Michael, he’s not wrong.” Kayla grinned, and Michael rolled his eyes, flipping his sister off and ignoring Lee’s dirty look at the action. Sam made it to eight, and Will got to six, then it was passed to Jake. He frowned as he turned it on, quickly noticing a problem with the electronics, and the rest of the room snickered as he pulled a screwdriver and a pair of pliers out of his pocket and quickly started fixing the problem, because it would annoy him if he didn’t. Michael grinned, taking advantage of his distraction, and flicked the dial straight up to ten. Jake yelped, doubling over in pain, and a small explosion occurred, blowing up the device. He sighed heavily and sat back up after a moment, glaring daggers at his boyfriend, who smiled back innocently, nodding to the machine.

“I think there’s something else for you to fix now.”

Jake huffed, swatting him on the head. “Jackass.”

“Language!”

“I thought you weren’t allowed to do that for me because you have no responsibility over me?” He smirked, ignoring the rest of Michael’s siblings laughing at the blown up device while Lee raised an eyebrow at the son of Hephaestus. Carly snorted.

“You’ve basically become an extra sibling at this point, you’re in here that often. Plus,” She grinned. “Brother in law counts, doesn’t it?”

Both Michael and Jake immediately blushed scarlet, and Michael waved his hands at his sister, scowling. “Slow down a bit, for fuck’s sake.”

“Language!”

“Fuck off!”

Kayla snickered. “Dibs on first speech at their wedding.”

Jake groaned as Will snickered. “Oh, come on-”

“When’s the date? Gotta get my suit ready.”

“Will, I will pin you to an archery target.”

“You can’t even move right now.”

“Won’t fucking stop me.”

“Language!”

“Piss off Lee!”

“Fine, but I’m walking you down the aisle.”

“Lee!” Jake groaned again, ignoring Lee’s teasing smirk. “Don’t encourage them! We’re fifteen and sixteen!”

“Oh yeah, you’re a pervert.” Carly nodded. “Preying on someone younger than you.”

Michael burst into laughter as Jake looked at the daughter of Apollo. “Carly, what the heck? I’m five months older, not fifteen years.”

“You never know.”

He scoffed. “You never know- yes, because I look like I’m thirty, clearly.” Michael was in fits of laughter, and Jake huffed, picking up the device and hopping off his boyfriend’s bunk, walking out the cabin and rolling his eyes at the teasing smirks. “Goodbye, I’m going to fix your machine. Michael, you better eat lunch.”

“Ooh, Mikey, you’ve been called out for starving.”

“Starving?? Bitch, how many meals do you think I’ve missed?”

“Language!”

“OH MY GOD I’M FIFTEEN!”

“AUSTIN’S ELEVEN!”

Jake snickered as he closed the door behind him, listening to the group bicker between themselves. Some things never changed.

it's givingggg....

✨Masonyew✨

in Michael's ratty but cute stage where Jake just can't resist picking him up and cuddling him until he can't breathe, and Michael's trying to decide whether to melt or fight him

Person A: "Please put me down."

Person B: "Were you always this small?"

Person A: "DOWN. NOW."