𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐞

18 y/o, greek mythology enthusiast, writer

[apricot-blossomss]

hello peachies, welcome to my blog !

↬ deep in my greek mythology phase

↬ history buff, music lover, art admirer, book enthusiast

↬ writing for all greek gods, for further information consult my request rules

↬ english is not my first language so i hope i won't make any mistakes :3

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find my stored works in my masterlist ! consider sending a request and read my request rules !

[apricot-blossomss]

I was wondering if u could write the gods(you can chose any but i would love hermes to be in it if thats ok with u) reactions of waking up next to reader.

U can skip this request if u want.

Love your work btw. ❤️😆

☛ the gods [apollo, hermes, dionysus, ares] waking up next to you

☛ sfw, cw: suggestive, mentions of blood & violence in ares' part

APOLLO

Apollo had found himself doing this every morning for the past few weeks. The god's eyes fluttered open as the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, mind slowly clearing off the haze of sleep. For a moment, he simply lay there, letting the sense of contentment flood him, the soft sounds of your breath like music to his ears.

His gaze wandered as he turned towards you, still soundly asleep next to him. Somehow, you had managed to get completely tangled up in the sheets. The sunlight that bathed his palace in golden hues caressed your skin as softly as his fingers might have. It made your hair shine as it lay sprawled out on the pillow, just calling to be twirled around a finger as he leaned close to you, watched you blush and laugh.

But you weren't laughing now. Your expression showed only utter serenity as you drooled cutely on the pillow, fingers twitching occasionally, signs of a restless dream. But other than that, your chest rose and fell with steady breaths as your body relaxed against the sheets. So pliant, so soft, yet marked. Apollos eyes traced the line his lips had drawn over your collarbone, up to your neck, and his lips twitched as he remembered the little sighs they had elicited from you, the way your cheeks flushed.

Apollo never thought he would ever find someone he would want to wake up next to every day, for eternity. Sure, he loved, and he loved deeply. But it was always temporary. He had never planned to be anything but an eternity-long bachelor, simply because his attention tended to stray, always in search of someone new to inspire him. But gods, you were enough to inspire his poems and songs for eons to come. And it would never be enough to grasp just how much he cherished you.

He propped himself up in bed, watching you intently, eyes drinking in every little movement, skimming over your peaceful expression. And he felt it. The itch in his fingers. The need to capture you, to capture this, to grab a quill, a pencil, a paintbrush, whatever was suited best to express his adoration for you in this moment.

He rose from the bed without making a sound, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber, and reached for a canvas and a palette, along with a brush. As he settled down onto the bed, his hand travelled over your figure, his eyes raking over you with the steady assessment of a professional. With touches so tender they were little more than breaths against your skin, he draped the covers just right and brushed a strand of hair out of your face, basking in the little sigh you answered him with in your sleep.

His hands moved quick over the canvas, with experienced precision and a commitment to detail, to immortalize this moment. His eyes drank you in, every inch of you, and flickered down to the canvas as his brushes formed the curve of your hips, the slope of your nose, the rosiness of your lips. He painted you as he saw you- drenched in the gold of the morning sun, ethereal, otherworldly. And yet, even the minor imperfections found their way onto the painting- because to him, even calling them 'imperfections' was an oxymoron, when they were what truly made you perfect.

As he completed the last brushstrokes, your lashes fluttered and you stirred slightly. A yawn broke free from your lips and, eyes still closed, you stretched your arms over your head. Then, you slowly blinked up at him, your lips curving into a smile at the sight of him. "Hey," you said, almost shyly, as you spotted the marks you had left on him the night before.

His voice was full of reverence as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss onto your lips. "Good morning, sunshine."

HERMES

The first thing that seeped into his consciousness like the most intoxicating drug was the smell of you. Second, the warmth, third, the pulsing of your heartbeat against his temple. He breathed in your scent, breathing out against your neck and tightened his hold on your soft body. To wake up like this every day...

Hermes slowly raised his head from your neck, his own curls brushing over your skin softly as he did. As if you felt it through the haze of sleep, you sighed softly, and his lips twitched into a smile as he propped himself up next to you, eyes wandering over you. Your chest was rising and falling in slow, steady breaths, and even in your sleep, you managed to be so utterly adorable.

Sometimes, your fingers would twitch against the sheets, a reaction to a dream, or your lips would string incoherent sentences together. A grin spread on his lips as he heard something closely resembling his name, a mumbled sigh, and he leaned in to catch more of it. Distinctly, he made out the words 'don't go' in the midst of your vague dreamy ramblings before you slipped off again, a long sigh escaping your lips, leaving him to guess what you might have been dreaming about.

But Hermes had never been one for patience. Before long, his hand came up to trace a line down your jaw, relishing in the way your breathing hitched softly. Slowly, he let his fingers trail down, down your back, over the curve of your hips, and up again. He could see the way your eyelids fluttered, the way you tried to hold onto sleep - a nice dream, then - but your consciousness was slipping and your brows scrunched up.

First, you didn't know what had woken you up. Then, through the still present haze of sleepiness, you felt a soft touch, running up and down your spine. Before you could stop it, it elicited a shiver from you and you could hear a chuckle, resonating close to your ear. "I know you're awake, you know?"

With a low groan, you pushed his hands away, pulling the covers more tightly around yourself. It had been such a pleasant dream, and you desperately wished to know how it ended, even though the waking part of you was aware that your chances of slipping back into slumber under his watch were utterly nonexistent. As you had suspected, your groggy protest did little to deter him. His hands returned- and this time, they ran up your sides in a more teasing way.

He was tickling you.

That bastard.

With a loud whine, you squirmed away, still squeezing your eyes shut. But instead of taking pity on you, the god only increased his teasing touches and your attempts to shake him off remained futile. Now, even the last remnants of sleep were lost, as you trashed under his relentless tickling, you held onto the dream like water slipping through your fingers. Finally, as the god tenderly pinched the soft flesh of your stomach, you snapped.

In one fluid motion, you shot up, grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him down onto the duvet, settling on top of him. You were well aware that you would have not been able to tackle him had he not allowed it, but you would take what you could get as you glared down at his far too pleased expression. "What the fuck, Hermes?" you groaned, the last bit of drowsiness draining from your mind. "I was having a nice dream!"

"Did you dream about me?" he asked, a tenderly teasing smile playing around his lips. Knowing. You shook your head, but it was a lie, and he seemed well aware.

You squeaked in surprise when he lifted himself up, you still perched on his lap as he looked down on you and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "Hm, I think you did," he mused, lips hovering just above yours. He clicked his tongue at your spluttered protests. "Y'see, honey... you talk in your sleep." His grin turned downright wicked when he saw your mortified expression, and as you felt your cheeks heating, you leaned your head against his collarbone, desperate to hide them. But no chance.

"Aw, don't be embarrassed, baby," he cooed softly, but with a distinctly teasing edge to his tone. His lips came up to brush against your temple tenderly. "Don't be mad you didn't get to finish it." He locked eyes with you, and the look in them made you swallow. "In fact," he drawled suggestively, hand running down to your waist, "How about we reenact them, hm?"

DIONYSUS

Your morning could have been peaceful. However, peaceful wasn't really in your lover's repertoire. Thus, your steady flow of vague dreams was disrupted when hands shook you awake, hands that had been traveling down your body with teasing touches the previous night, had latched onto you as if you could fade at any moment, had dipped into a goblet of wine and drawn patterns of red liquid down your squirming body.

Now, however, they were barely tender, no, they were demanding, and you reluctantly let them pull you out of your quite pleasing dreams. With a huff of annoyance, you shook his hands off and turned your back to him, propping up your pillow and praying he would let you drift back into slumber. But of course, your hopes were futile.

"Baby," he sighed into your ear, shuffling ever closer to your figure. His arms closed around your midriff as his forehead came to rest against the back of your neck. And gods, you were sure a diety was not meant to sound this whiny. "Baby, wake up."

With a frustrated groan, you gave him a push and turned in bed to face him, stretching your arms over your head and glowering at him. The sight of him, however, caught you off guard. His long curls were impossibly disheveled, eyes glazed over, his expression pulled into one of great agony. He looked positively wrecked.

With a low groan, Dionysus let himself fall back into the mattress, wincing at the movement. The sound was stifled with the way he buried his face in his pillow, but the pain in it did tug at your heartstrings. It looked like you had been right last night- he had completely overdone it, even for a god, and now, he was paying the price. But that didn't mean you had no pity for his predicament.

The scowl on your face slowly melted into a softer smile as you shuffled closer to his figure, sprawled out on the duvet. A mop of curls obstructed his face, as well as a pillow, so you settled for carding your fingers into his hair and softly running their tips over his scalp. The sound of elicited from him, though muffled against the sheets, was one of relief rather than pain.

"Everything hurts," he moaned into the duvet as you continued to run your hand through his hair. "I'm a god. This shouldn't be happening."

"You poor god, you," you cooed sweetly, laughing when he released a muffled scoff. As he rambled on, listing his complaints, you hummed along, smiling down at him. You liked these moments- moments when you got to see him raw, almost human. Only to be reminded of his divinity when he slowly raised his head from the sheets to rake his eyes over your bare figure. They glinted dangerously.

"You know what, baby?" he purred seductively. "I think I'm starting to feel better. Not quite though. Got some ideas on how to ease my ache?"

You slapped the back of his head.

ARES

Ares was used to blood. He was used to violence, to shouting and screaming, the clanking of steel on steel, the roaring of the victorious and the cries of the vanquished. But not to this. He didn't think he could ever get used to this. Waking up next to you, the first thing to see your bare figure, wrapped loosely in his sheets, chest rising and falling softly, lips parted as if they were about to tell a secret. But your eyes were closed, lashes delicately brushing over your soft skin.

But, though he would never get used to this, to you, he was already addicted to it. He craved every little touch, every small smile, every little grace like a drowning man the air. And it was so very tempting to accept it all, take it all, take everything he could get. That was the way he used to do it. He was the god of war, he didn't ask for things, and he certainly didn't take other people's feelings into account before acting- until you.

It burned in his fingertips, the need to reach out, to touch, to pull you against him, to bury his face in your neck, breathe in your scent, bask in your warmth. To hear your breath hitch in the most delicious way, feel your body melt into his. Your voice would be rough from sleep, but it would sound all the sweeter in his ears. He yearned to feel you against him, if only for prove that you were real, that he was granted something this good.

But as he watched you, as he listened to the soft sound of your breathing, he couldn't bring himself to destroy your peace, as he would any other. The only thing greater than his desire to feel you was his need to let you rest. Putting up with him every day, you needed it. No, he could not wake you up.

Pathetically, he ended up shifting as close to you as he could without touching you, so close he could feel the warmth of your body gently nipping at his skin, so close that his fingers twitched to close the thin gap between your bodies. But he didn't. Restraint had never been his strength, as his sister would gladly remind him, but now, he disciplined his urges and closed his eyes, knowing sleep would not take him back.

But it didn't have to. It was only minutes later that you stirred, shifted against the covers and finally, turned around beneath them to face him. His proximity startled you for a second, but it could not break your sleepy gaze as you lazily threw your arms around his neck and pulled him close.

Ares surged. Hadn't he been careful, he would have crushed you with the way he wrapped his strong, scarred arms around your middle and pulled you flush against him, eliciting a startled little squeak from you. Your soft, pliant body all wrapped up in his arms, he could not have been more content, and as you relaxed against him with the sort of undeniable trust that went to his head in the most twisted way, he lowered his head to the crook of your neck.

The steady fall and rise of your chest against his was a strong enough tether to keep him right there, possibly forever, wrapped up in your gentle warmth that was so different to his scorching fire. But fuck, did he crave it.

Ares stiffened for a split of a second when your fingers carded into his dark curls, but his shoulders relaxed in an instant as you ran them through the strands. A soft groan left his lips, and he would have been content admitting that a tiny mortal like you had rendered him utterly defenseless. The soft giggle that sounded against his ear was more heavenly than all the odes his brother ever composed.

"You're cuddly today," you commented vaguely, fingertips scraping over his scalp tenderly.

An indefinite sound rumbled in his chest, vibrated against yours, but he only sank deeper into your touch, wishing every morning could start like this.

a/n: thinking about making taglists for my works/specific gods, would anyone be interested in that?

[apricot-blossomss]

anything with apollo's fear that-sometimes-comes-out-when-he's-angry of reader fearing him??? 🫶🏻

I think this is the perfect definition of making a thing out of it 🫣

☛ when your village's crops are failing, they think a sacrifice might appeal to the gods' mercy- only, they haven't taken your lovers deadly rage into account

☛ apollo x mortal!f!reader; sfw; cw: violence, death (not the reader's); wc: 7k

You let the flour rinse through your fingers, watching the fine dust swirl in the dim light. The window was wide open, enabling you to cherish the last whiffs of fresh air. Long and heavy lay the summer upon your small town, bending people's backs as sweat dripped down their temples. Fortunately for you, you were no farmhand- not that farming had much of a point these days. For weeks now, your village’s crops had been failing. The river, too, was running dry, and out in the fields, you could make out a group of children running off to fetch water a few towns over. Desperate attempts to keep some of the crops alive to avoid mass starvation.

The dough was soft beneath your palms, sticky with honey, and the smell of baking bread wrapped around you like a comfort. You had an advantage over those now begging on the streets- a divine lover who wouldn't have you endure a day of hunger. What he did not know, however, was that you shared his gifts with your fellow townspeople, resulting in you climbing into bed with a growling stomach, but a light heart.

You hummed to yourself, kneading the dough until your arms ached, careful to avoid it getting on your dress. It was too nice a dress for baking. A dress for quiet afternoons, a dress for meeting your lover beneath the pine trees. A dress for better times. But he had announced his visit through signs, and you had dolled yourself up properly to meet him. The last time he'd appeared, golden and radiant as he was, he'd pressed a kiss to your brow and told you to be patient. That rain would eventually bless your village. But you weren't a god, so you could only hope and pray.

That was when you heard it. Faint at first- a dull thud against wood, a voice raised, carried by the wind through your window. You couldn't make out the words, but the tone seemed aggressive. You paused, hands still coated in flour, and approached the window to listen. Smaller brawls about food and water were no rare occurrence these days. But the noise swelled, and you could make out the thudding of many footsteps, the shouting of voices growing louder. Drawing closer.

Dark premonition tightened into a coil in your chest- this was no small brawl, it sounded like the whole village had banded together, approaching this scarcely inhabited outskirt. Nervosity clawing at your insides, you cleaned your hands with a towel and walked towards the door to inquire about the noise. But before you could even reach it, there was a knock. And another. Loud bangs, mirroring the heavy pounding in your chest. Then, a commanding voice sounded through the wood of the door. “Open up, now!”

Your fingers shook with apprehension as you turned the doorknob and opened the door. You were greeted to a sea of faces and chants. Most of them you recognized, and you looked around in helpless confusion at them. But their expressions were twisted into hateful rage, one that you could not explain to yourself.

But before you could make an inquiry, the man who must have knocked on your door, a temple guard, judging by his uniform, obscured your sight by stepping in front of you. He towered over you, much taller than you, and his eyes glinted with a sadistic sort of irony. “Well, well,” he said to himself, eyes raking over your figure. “What a shame.” Without a warning, his hand shot out and wrapped itself around your upper arm in a grip so tight it made you wince. His fingers dug painfully into the meat of your biceps, so hard it would surely leave bruises. He yanked you from your home entrance and into the awaiting hands of the masses.

You stumbled into a curling snake pit of hands, grabbing at you, ripping your clothes, yanking at your limbs. Any sounds of protests, all of your confused questions were drowned out by a flood of screams, chants and yells. Desperate for support, you clung to the baker who you sold your breads to. But, with an almost disgusted look, he pushed you off and against one of the soldiers. Someone fisted your hair and yanked you in no particular direction, and when you cried out in pain, the masses laughed.

You were helpless, and completely disoriented. Dragged around and pushed from one to the other, the world blurred before your waking eye, until your head hit the ground with a painful thud. You scrambled to your feet, but the moment you had found some footing, the hands grabbed at your dress and yanked you. Their pull was irresistible, the voices swelled into a loud chant your ears didn't comprehend. It was too much. Too much pain, too much noise, too much movement. You wanted to fall to your knees and pray, beg for an explanation for this nightmare, but your body was like that of a puppet, strings cut and ripped around by violent hands.

Overwhelmed, all you could to was whisper his name under your breath, again and again. It was no prayer, no ode, no cry for help. It was simply that his name was the only sound that would make it past your lips, as if it was the only one you knew. The only thing tethering you to the world as you lost the ground beneath your feet.

Your cries for an explanation, for help, were ignored as the solider who had knocked on your door got a hold of your upper arms and dragged you down the road, barely letting you walk on your own. As you looked around, through the mist of tears clouding your vision, you could make out people following you or watching the angry procession from their doors and windows. Slowly, you began to understand.

When you stumbled, the soldier ripped you up violently and hit you across the face. The harsh slap made your head spin as your cheek burned. The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, and your tongue traced your lip to find it busted. A new string of tears spilled out of your eyes, eliciting hollers and new yells from the crowd that derived great pleasure from your pain.

Only the ground beneath you turning from stamped earth to cobblestone announced to you that you had reached the city square. Under the cheers of the crowd, you were pushed towards the center and onto your knees. With a painful thud, they met the ground, scraping against the hard, uneven stone.

Your village elders had assembled in the center. As you were being dragged before them, they looked up from a discussion they were having; frail old men holding too much power, and glaring down at you as you lay in the dirt at their feet, shaking and sobbing. Your whispers of your god’s name went unnoticed, swallowed by the people’s shouts and chants. Only when one of the elders, a man called Zephyros, stepped forward and raised his hand did the noise gradually subside.

When he called your name, you raised your head shakily, looking into hard, unforgiving eyes. “Pharmakis. You stand accused of dark witchcraft, of destroying our crops and drying our rivers with the goal of starving our city. How do you plead?” (Pharmakis = "witch")

“I didn't do anything!” you cried out, tears and dirt running down your face as the soldier’s grip on you tightened. “Please- why would I do something like that? I am no witch!” Desperation laced your voice, felt heavy on your tongue, as you searched for the right words with dire need. Words to calm their anger, dispel their doubts. But the only thing they seemed to have no doubt about was your guilt.

“You remain the only one untouched by this catastrophe, that has been taking children, animals, and people alike! Your neck remains adorned by jewelry. How did you get it, by baking bread?” A humorless laugh left his lips as angry whispers broke out around you. Someone threw a necklace at your feet- they must have taken it from your home, you recognized it in an instant. As all your jewelry, Apollo had made you take and wear it against your initial protests that it was too much, too good for you. Wide eyed, you stared at the gold as it reflected the sun’s light.

“Your spells have cursed us and enriched you!” Hissed Zephyros, looking down upon your trembling figure, “your greed has angered the gods.”

“Please!” you cried out over a new swelling of shouts. “If I had offended the gods, why would they grace me with fortune and riches?”

“Shut your mouth!” Seethed Zephyros, turning to the crowd and raising his voice so it bellowed all over the city square. “The gods are angry because of her! She’s been seen in the fields at dawn, whispering to the soil. The earth rots under her hands, and the rivers dry in her shadow. A witch, poisoning our village from within!” New tears formed in your eyes, the hopelessness of the situation dawning on you when the people chanted for your death sentence. “The sun turns harsh, the rain refuses to fall- this is her doing. She consorts with dark spirits, cursing our land while we starve. How else do you explain our suffering?”

The words fell upon you like stones, and with your hands twisted behind your back, you were unable to shield yourself from the vile accusations they inflicted upon you like beatings with a harsh stick. They stung- you belonged to this village, you had lived here your whole life, waved a good morning to the same people who were now calling for your execution. Always had you made an effort to provide for those in need, to strike up a friendly conversation with those who were hopeless, had worked in the temple, sold on the market, been at the heart of their community. All that, now thrown out the window as if it meant nothing- it stung more than the harsh fingers digging into your shoulder did.

Your chest tightened as you looked up into their faces, twisted with fear and anger. Looking for a scapegoat. The same faces that had smiled at you warmly, now so hostile, now calling for your demise. Your breath came out in shallow puffs as your heart pounded loud enough to drown out the words the elders spat now, only words sticking out to you. “Pharmakis” “Traitor” “Gods’ ire”. You searched their faces for something- reason, mercy - but all you found was fear, expertly disguised by their hypocritical righteousness. The people you'd prayed for now looked at you as if you were a monster.

“Φοῖβε, ἀγάπη μου… βοήθει μοι…” (“Phoebus, my love… help me…”) you whimpered, lowering your head and squeezing your eyes shut as the desperation and hopelessness overwhelmed you. “Ἀπόλλων, μὴ μὲ ἐγκαταλείπῃς…” (“Apollo, do not abandon me…”). But he didn't come. No ray of sunshine, no glow of reassurance, no soft touch of safety, only the cold stone beneath your aching knees, the painful grip on your shoulder and the harsh words of accusation thrumming against your ears.

Suddenly, the elders fell silent and the crowds' shouts subsided into a low whisper. When you looked up, you were greeted to the sight of a hooded figure emerging from the closed lines of the soldiers. The simpel audacity to interfere with an elders sermon strook them all with silence- the people were props to cheer and fight for them, to applaud them. Not to raise their voice.

But he did- the hooded stranger spoke to the elders, and his voice was smooth and steady as he did. “I am a seer, a holy priest of Apollo. I come only with the most well-meaning advice, and it is dire. I have seen it in the stars, the behavior of the birds: a warning.” He pointed at you and you instinctively shrunk under his pointed finger. “Harming this woman will not save you. In fact, it will condemn you.”

A breathless silence layed heavy on your shoulders, pressing them down as a spark of hope danced inside your chest. Seers were people of the greatest renown in your rural community, religious readers, believed to be speaking to the gods themselves. Apollo, of course, had told you with a smile that most of them were swindlers, his warm fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he explained that only a few were blessed by his divine gift.

“A seer?” sneered elder Argyros after recovering from the shock of someone talking back to him. As the richest man in the village, he was used to people cowering before him. The stranger made no such attempts however, standing still as the elders eyes scrutinized him. “Or just another fool who's been charmed by her sorcery?”

“I am warning you,” the strangers voice sounded, much calmer. In spite of his old cloak and humble attire, he stood upright and his words were made of molten gold. “The sun watches, even now. His light sees everything. And if you spill her blood, it will burn you to ash.”

Your heart beat in your chest as you looked up at the man. Could he be saying the truth? Would Apollo be angry, maybe even grieving if you died? His love for you had always seemed so sincere.

“How can you be so sure it is her who has angered the gods?” asked the seer sharply, turning to the crowd. “Perhaps, the one who displeased them is among your highest ranks.” Turning to the elders once more, his eyes bore into those of elder Zephyros. “You haven't been treating your guests very well, have you, elder Zephyros? The gods value hospitality very highly. In fact, this whole council has treated its guests with a lack of respect and hence brought on themselves their own demise!”

“We don't need omens from a stranger,” elder Xanthos spat defensively, face turning both red and white at the same time. “We need blood to satisfy the gods. If Apollo were angry, he would have struck us down already. Maybe this is what he wants.”

The stranger opened his mouth, seemingly to protest, but elder Zephyros shut him up by pointing a finger at him. “Guards, seize this charlatan!” His eyes held a dangerous glint as they returned to your broken figure. “Take the girl to Apollo’s temple. I will prove to you all that Apollo would rather bless than curse us for this sacrifice!”

Before you could comprehend his words properly, you were seized by the arms and ripped up violently. The steadily growing crowd followed behind and around you as the guards dragged you to the gates of Apollos temple, which was located near the city square. The most glorious and beautiful sight your small city had to offer. The place held some of your most treasured memories. The first time you'd talked to him. He'd appeared to you in the disguise of a mortal man as you were parting before his altar.

“Please,” you whispered to god’s giant marble statue, unaware of the presence looming behind you. It was a warm summer night, the whole town was already asleep- safe for the harlots, the thief's, and you. “Please,” you whispered again, “Just a sign. Anything.”

“What if this sign was another person?”

Even in your sitting position, you spun around so fast that it scraped your knees. Upon seeing the young man lean so casually against one of the holy pillars, you scrambled to your feet, smoothing out your skirt and frowning at him, at his relaxed smirk. “You shouldn't eavesdrop on prayers.”

Though a teasing smirk graced his lips, the young man’s eyes held a certain, almost disarming warmth. “I wasn't eavesdropping. You spoke loud enough for even a god to hear.”

“You have an awfully bold tongue for a worshipper,” you remarked with narrowed eyes, folding your arms over your chest. If you had known you’d meet a man today, would be alone in a room with him, you’d have worn a less revealing dress.

The man let out a soft laugh and pushed himself off the pillar, taking a step towards you. “I’m not here to worship.” Your lisp opened in inquiry, brows furrowed, but he cut you off before you could even speak, eyes clinging to the marble statue. “You talk to that statue like it's alive.”

You glanced at him, unimpressed. “Maybe I have more faith than you do.”

His lips curled into a grin that was irresistible, even in his mortal form. Eyes locking onto yours, you could hear your breath hitch in your throat- and could have sworn he had heard it too, because his grin only widened as he took another step towards you, so casually it could have been by chance. “Or maybe, you like talking to men who don't talk back.”

With a scoff, you averted your face to hide your smile from him. This mysterious stranger was making you extremely flustered. “If that's true, I have no reason to talk to you, do I?” He laughed in response, and your head snapped up at the sound. His laugh sounded like a melody, like a sudden outburst of creative talent. It didn't quite match his voice, in a way that could have been unsettling. But the look of amusement on his face was too warm, too reassuring, too kind.

You scolded yourself for these thoughts- they were inappropriate for someone like you, especially seeing as you had just met this guy in the dead of night in an otherwise empty temple. At the same time, it was the place you felt safest- no one would dare dishonor it through violence, would they? The god would strike them down.

The stranger had reached your side with his languid, slow steps and turned to follow your gaze, eyes wandering over the statue, the altar. There was something like amusement in his eyes, and you quickly averted yours when you realized you were staring. How embarrassing. The strangers lips twitched. “What if Apollo isn't worth your prayers?” He asked into the silence that had settled upon you.

With a startled gasp, you whipped your head around at him, eyes darting around nervously. As if one could hide such impunity in the god's own temple. This man had to be doomed. “How dare you say that in his temple?” you snapped, scrutinizing him with your glare.

Unimpressed by your outburst, he chuckled. “Just a thought. What if he's vain and selfish?”

With a frown, you turned back to the altar. “Even if he is,” you said in a sharp voice, emphasizing the ‘if’, “he still brings light to the world.” You gave him a challenging look that he returned with a look of veiled awe- or maybe you were just imagining things. “Do you?”

The stranger let another soft laugh fall from his lips, but this time, he lowered his head and you thought you saw the lightest of pink tints adorning his cheeks. “Maybe not,” he admitted, locking eyes with with you and giving you a look heavy with something indescipherable. “But you certainly do.”

Something slamming into the side of your face ripped your out of your reminiscent memories. Something was dripping off your jaw, and you realized someone had thrown a tomato at you. Spitting out the juices that tasted like lead on your tongue, you tried to avoid other projectiles thrown at you, but you couldn't miss them all. Some unknown substance soaked the skirt of your dress and mocking whistles emerged when they turned it see-through in places. You felt sick, your head was spinning, your ears thrumming and your vision blurring.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see people lining the house fronts. Not all were shouting and chanting. Many of their faces were averted. They were the ones you would chat with on sunny days, you would share your breath with, who would invite you over for a drink to make friendly conversation. Yet now, they didn't even look at you, turned away, as you were violently shoved towards the temple. None of them lifted a finger to help, none spoke up on your behalf. They all just stood there.

Only the elders and soldiers followed the ones dragging you into the temple. The noisy crowd stayed outside, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Gates wide open, you were thrown against the altar, making you cry out in pain. Rough hands grabbed you and hoisted you onto the marble, then grabbed your collar from behind and ripped your dress open. With a strangled, teaerful gasp you attempted to cover yourself, feeling sick at the way some of the elders ran their tongues over their lips. A few of the soldiers sniggered, but not the one who now held you down.

The priest stepped forward from amongst the elders. For one mad moment, you hoped he would spare you- he had always been grateful for your efforts in the temple, even though you were no priestess. But he didn't spare your dirty, trembling body a glance, opting to turn to the council and raising his hands in prayer. “O great Apollo, lord of light and prophecy, we offer you this life in repentance. Let her blood cleanse our land, and may your mercy restore our fields.”

He gave the guard holding you in place a curt nod and suddenly, you felt something cold press against your throat. Gasping, you realized it was the cold edge of a blade digging into the skin of your neck. A sharp pain cursed through you when you squirmed, fear clouding your senses, and a trickle of blood ran down your skin. You shivered, new tears spilling from your eyes. If only you had seen him one more time, if only you had known it had been the last moment- you would have savored his touch so much more, captured the sound of his voice in your heart, the molten gold of his eyes. Why had you never told him you loved him back?

The priest returned from his sermon, and you could feel death drawing closer. Coldness spread, from the blade against your throat down to your fingertips, freezing your heart as if rushed through the fatal beats that would be its last. You couldn't help the sobs bubbling out of your throat. This was no graceful way to die. Shaking, crying, dirty and desperately holding your dress up. At least Apollo didn't have to see you like this. It would break his heart.

“In the name of the immortal gods, we cast out this child of ruin,” called the priest and the soldier tightened his grip on you. “May her death appease your anger, and may your favor shine upon us once more, lifting us upon-”

Suddenly, he broke off, but you weren't sure why. Your head was clouded with your raging panic, the prospect of certain death. But then, you could make out a figure making their way through the huddle of elders, and their indignant gasps when he stepped before the altar, facing them. You recognized the shabby clothes. It was the seer who had advocated for you.

“We forbid this insolence-” hissed one of the elders, but he seemed to choke on his own words, suddenly falling to his knees and clutching his throat. The air seemed to shift. It shuddered and trembled around you, like it was radiating in waves off of something- someone. The hood slipped off the seers head, and in that very instant, a wave of heat rippled through the air, warping all light. There was no mortal man standing before you anymore. The hooded man was gone, burned away in an instant, and in his place stood something too radiant, too vast, too terrible to be contained in human form.

Golden light spilled from his skin like molten fire, his very presence warping the world around him, like he didn't belong in it. Otherworldly. Heavenly. Godly. His eyes were no longer shadowed by the hood, no longer softened by moral pretense. They blazed with the fury of a dying sun, searing into the huddled elders with a heat that made them recoil. With a round of gasps and cries of shock, they fell to their knees, cowering before the man you had thought most about on this cursed day. Apollo.

The laurel wreath resting on his golden locks shimmered, a crown of gold and flame, and when he spoke, his voice was no longer bound by human restraint. It rolled through the temple like thunder, shaking the stone, splitting the air, making the ground itself tremble beneath them. “You dare,” he said, his voice thrumming in your ears as you stared at him. The elders quivered and cried as they pressed their faces onto the cold marble, but Apollo only sent them a disgusted look before turning to you.

His eyes, ablaze with ancient fury, softened slightly when he took in your shaken figure, your wide, teary eyes. The soldier that was holding you immediately retracted, and you, still dizzy and frozen with shock, threatened to crash into the hard marble of the altar.

But he was there in an instant, hands almost burning on your skin as he held you, as carefully as if you were made of glass. His eyes flickered over you frantically, darkening when they skimmed over the bruises and your hands clawing at your dress to hold it up, focusing on the trickle of blood down your neck. An eerie quiet lay on the room, multiplied by the sheer might of his presence.

“A- Apollo?” you asked, voice shaking, laced with disbelief. Could it really be him? Could you really be safe? When he normally visited you, he looked much simpler, if that was possible for something as eye-catching as him.

His voice was soft as his palm ran over your hair, as if he was trying to prove to himself that you were here, breathing, warm, alive. “It’s me, darling,” he assured you, but behind his calm facade, his voice was taut with restrained rage. “It's me.”

Stupidly, your eyes burned with tears once more, only this time it was tears of relief. You drew in a shaky breath and nodded frantically, fingers trembling as they touched his, needing to feel him against your skin. He was too ethereal to be true. “They-,” you whimpered, choking on your tears. “They were going to- I thought-” Your voice broke off and he drew calming circles on the skin of your arm.

You hadn't thought it possible, but the god’s voice broke when he whispered to you. “I know. I know what they did. What they almost took from me.” Towards the end of the sentence, his voice transformed into a low growl that made some of the elders wince.

His expression twisted into one of pure hatred as he softly layed you down on his altar and turned his attention to them. His fingers trailed lazily across the altar’s edge as he paced, the stone blackening and smoking beneath his touch. He didn't look at the elders as they whimpered and begged- not at first.

He smiled at their fear, a terrible, gleaming thing, as if he was savoring it. “You dare raise a knife to her throat?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Here? On my altar? I have watched men wage wars in my name, have seen empires rise and crumble beneath my gaze. And yet, it is here- here, in this wretched little village- that I find the greatest insult of all.”

Slowly, he stepped down the stairs to the altar, towards their kneeling figures. Apollo moved like a predator- slow, deliberate, each step echoing like a war drum. His golden eyes blazed with fury, burning too bright to look at for long, and the air shimmered around him, as if the very world recoiled from his wrath. “Tell me,” he drawled, “did your fields rot because of her? Or because you are lazy, foolish and undeserving of the gods' gifts?” He halted his steps when he reached elder Zephyros. The old man trembled under the weight of his divine gaze. “Answer,” the god commanded and the elder flinched as if he had hit him.

“B- because of our sin, my lord,” he managed to stutter out, and Apollo scoffed. As he walked past him, Zephyros breathed a sigh of relief. But Apollo soon stopped behind another elder, lowering himself until his lips were just beside the man’s ear. “Kneel lower,” he breathed, and the man collapsed, forehead pressed into the dirt sobbing. Looking at him as if he was something bad smelling he stepped in, Apollo raised himself and let his gaze sweep over their figures, crouching impossibly lower in fear. “I have lit your fields with gold and warmed your skin with light, and this is your gratitude? To carve a blade into the one I love?"

In spite of their terrified state, there was a collective whisper among the elders. As the realization dawned on them, some directed their widened eyes at you, as if begging you for mercy, but Apollo stepped in front of them, shielding you from their fearful gaze. “We- we misunderstood your signs, Lord Apollo!” called the priest, who seemed to be the most courageous of all. Or maybe, he thought being a priest of his would earn him a forgiving touch. “Please forgive us!”

Apollo laughed a cruel laugh that made a shiver run down your spine. It was a horrible sound, his melodic voice twisted into something so utterly terrifying yet still pleasing to the ear in the most self-destructive of ways. "I sent you signs. I gave you commands. I testified before you. But your greed and your ignorance were too strong."

His gaze cut through their frantic apologies like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. "My Lord Apollo,” one elder managed to utter, “we didn't know she was dear to you! We never would have-" Apollo tilted his head, slow and almost curious, before stepping closer- so close the man choked on his words and collapsed to the ground. You flinched when the dull thud echoed around the room, as did his fellow elders, but none made a move to help him.

Apollo stretched out a hand, and a golden flame flickered to life in his palm- beautiful, deadly. He let it hover there as he walked, a silent threat, the fire casting jagged shadows across their terrified faces. "Ah, now you kneel. Now you grovel. I wonder, did she do the same? When you dragged her to this altar, did she beg?" The lot of them averted their faces, shieding themselves from his barely contained fury, as if that would protect them. "You look at me with fear in your eyes,” he said in an almost mocking tone, though it was humorless and cold. “Why? Is this not what you wanted? A sign from your god?"

Apollo stopped his paces to look around, his eyes scanning their cowering figures. He began circling the elders like a lion playing with dying prey, the faint trace of a smile curling his mouth, but there was no warmth in it- only cruelty, only fury barely held in check. "Look at you. Pathetic. Crawling to your knees like insects the moment your prey turns into a lion. I should let the sun forget this place. Let your crops wither. Let your rivers dry. Let the world never remember your name. Do you know how many temples l've watched crumble? How many cities l've watched rot? One would mean nothing to me. And yet, even now, even as you tremble... you don't understand the danger you are in."

One of the elders caught your eye, his gaze mad with fear. Probably mirroring your own just moments prior when he had called for your execution. “ἱκέτις!” (Spoken hiketis, translated to the one we beg) he called pleadingly, “we beg you- soften his heart, spare us!”

Apollo’s gaze snapped to the elder and he stepped forward. The man flinched and let out a short whimper. “You dare speak to her?” Apollos voice was a low snarl. “You? Who pressed a blade to her throat and called it devotion?” He leaned down, his voice softening to something far more dangerous. “Direct another word at her, make her shed another tear for you, I will turn your fields into ash myself. You are not fit to speak her name, let alone defile my alter with her blood. She is worth more than all of you combined. The sound of her breath matters more than your entire village. When she cried, I heard her. When she bled, I felt it. When she whispered my name, I came."

The priest sobbed into his own, knotted hands, not daring to direct his gaze at his god. “We only wanted to restore balance! We thought a sacrifice-”

But Apollo cut him off with a snarl. “A sacrifice? Tell me, when your harvest failed, did you cut your own throat? Did you offer your life? No? How strange." Hate was laced into every tone of his voice as he rose and slowly walked back up the steps, his gaze still firmly locked on them. "I could make your bones glow with fire. Turn you into torches to light my way. Shall I teach you what true suffering is? Shall I let you taste what you so eagerly prepared for her? Perhaps I should deliver you to my sister, let the beasts have you. Let the wolves rip the flesh from your bones while the crows pluck at your eyes."

“Please!” elder Xanthos cried in utter desperation, tears streaming down his webbed cheeks. “Mercy!”

But the plea only elicited a cold laugh from your god. "You beg me for mercy with the same mouth that condemned her? I will not be merciful. Not for this."

Apollo lifted his hand, and fire bloomed in his palm- not wild and chaotic, but controlled, precise, as if each flicker of flame carried the weight of his will. The golden light swelled, casting jagged shadows as the elders screamed, their bodies consumed in an instant. He didn’t turn to watch them burn. Instead, he stepped in front of you, his broad frame blocking the sight of their writhing silhouettes. The glow of the flames haloed around him, but not a trace of heat reached your skin. His hand hovered just above your cheek, trembling with the remnants of his fury, yet when he finally touched you, his fingers were impossibly gentle.

You were shaking all over, thoughts racing, eyes squeezed shut, as you wished you could drown out the sounds of their fiery deaths. Alas, the glow subsided, and when you threw a cautious look over Apollo’s shoulder, you saw they had been reduced to ash. “Shh,” he said, but despite the calming sound, when you looked up at him, his eyes were still ablaze with fury. His soft lips pressed a kiss onto your temple before he moved towards the door- fast, determined. But you couldn't let him.

Despite the weakness in your knees, you managed to catch up to him before he reached the entrance gates. Before them, the village people had lowered themselves onto their knees, witnesses to their elders destruction and fearfully awaiting their fate. But you couldn't have that- in spite of the pain they had caused you, they were still your people. You knew you should have felt anger, but it had subsided and given way to pity. So you stepped before Apollo, clutching the remaining fabric of your dress over your chest in an attempt to retain some dignity.

Your heart skipped a beat when you looked into his eyes- brimming with fury, with godly wrath. You had never seen him like this- only ever experienced him as a gentle lover, his soft touches and teasing smiles, his kind reassurances and his hand holding yours as he made you feel better than any mortal man ever could have. Never like this. You almost didn't recognize him. Apollo looked deadly. Scary, even to you. Your breath constricted in your throat, but you forced the words out. “Please, Apollo,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “don't hurt them. I beg you. Haven't they suffered enough?"

He simply stared at you, as if he couldn't believe the words had left your mouth. Part of you didn't either. His voice was sharp when he spoke, and you suppressed a shudder. “They cheered as they dragged you to the altar. They watched you bleed. And you ask for their lives?" His voice had risen to a harsh snarl and when he reached out for you, you flinched. You couldn't help it, it was a natural mortal instinct, this close to unshielded divinity.

But his brows furrowed at your action, and when he spoke, his voice was hollow, his gaze devastated. “Are you afraid of me?” His eyes flickered over your expression, saw right through you, and you found yourself unable to hide your true feelings from him. Drawing a shaky breath, you hesitantly glanced up at him. "I saw what you did to them... I've never seen you like that." Your voice was so small it was barely audible, but he, of course, could make out the words, and they seemed to hit him like a brick wall.

Taking a step back, his eyes darkened with grief. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, the remnants of his wrath still simmering beneath his golden skin like embers refusing to die. "I would set the world on fire for you. Do you not understand that?"

“I know,” you said, voice shaking, and in your desperation, you fell to your knees before him, clutching the torn fabric of your dress to your chest, words tumbling from your mouth in frantic, broken pleas. “Please, Apollo, let them go. I can't bear this.”

This village, these people, were all you had ever known, all you had loved. Even though they hadn't lifted a finger to help you, had cheered your public humiliation, you could not be responsible for their deaths- it would forever haunt you. The elders dying you were okay with, they were a corrupt lot of old men who'd salvitated at the sight of your ripped dress and ordered your death despite their own greed. But in your eyes, the villagers were innocent- not in his, though.

Apollo watched you, stricken, his expression caught somewhere between rage and devastation. His hands- hands that had held you like you were something holy- curled into trembling fists at his sides. He knelt before you slowly, carefully, like he was approaching something fragile and wild. The god who had just brought such lethal destruction now looked terrified to so much as breathe wrong in your presence. But there was a terrible, aching violence in the way he shook, his divinity still thrumming through the air like a storm that hadn’t passed. “Don’t,” he rasped, voice raw, stepping toward you. When you flinched, a sound escaped him - something wounded, something desperate. “Don’t look at me like that.”

When you looked up, you were shocked to find tears brimming in his eyes, drops of gold. You hadn't known gods could cry. But in spite of his grief, his rage was still palpable and his voice dripped with venom when his gaze flickered over the kneeling townspeople. “They applauded your suffering. They deserve to choke on their guilt.”

“You're better than this!” you sobbed, reaching out to take his hands.

At first, they were stiff in yours, before his fingers interlaced with yours and he tilted his head at you, his rage somewhat taken over by an intense sadness. “No,” he said, voice faltering, “You are better. I am a god. I am not kind.” His rage hadn’t faded- not fully. It lingered just beneath his skin, a seething thing barely leashed. But it was the sight of you bowing to him, begging like a supplicant, that finally broke him. “Stand up,” he whispered, voice fractured. “You don’t kneel for me. Not you.”

“You are kind,” you disagreed with him, giving into his pull and letting him lift you to your feet, your legs barely carrying your weight. “You are to me.”

Slowly, as if every touch could set you off, Apollo lowered his head and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to your head. Beneath your fingertips, you could feel his rage subsiding slowly. He let out a shaky breath against your hair and you leaned your head against him, exhaustion settling on every single one of your bones. “Please,” you whispered, knowing you almost had him. “Can we just go?” You swallowed heavily. “Just… anywhere?”

“Ἀγαπητή," (Agapētē = Beloved) he sighed, and some of the tension seemed to seep out of him, the flickering blaze in his eyes calming. “Forgive me,” he pleaded, and you stiffened as his tone turned into that of a desperate beggar. “Don't fear me, my love, don't flinch away from my touch.”

“I don't,” you breathed against him. He was stabilizing your whole body weight by now, but he didn't seem to mind. His arms only tightened around your waist. “I could never.”

It was all too much- the sensations of the day, the lingering heat, the gruesome sight of the elders burning, and now hundreds of eyes boring into you as Apollo held you gently, so unlike the way he'd threatened their lives. You were the only thing that could calm a storm like this, like him. “I love you,” was the last thing you managed to whisper before exhaustion overtook you and sleep pressed down your eyelids. He must have caught you when you slumped against him, because you felt like you were flying and heard his voice in your ear:

“I'm taking you home, sunshine.”

[apricot-blossomss]

Hi!

This is probably a little strange, but I wanted to ask if you're doing okay, because you haven't posted anything in a bit.

Please don't take this like I'm trying to push you to post something or anything like that. It is absolutely not intended to be that. I just wanted to check in on you and ask if you're alright.

Anyway, sorry to bother you, and I hope you're doing well.

Bye!

Heyy, I'm gonna take this opportunity to answer all asks I've gotten about my inactiveness these last two months.

First of all: thank you all so much for your support and kind and caring messages, they were all really sweet!

Second, I'd also like to apologize for this rather unexpected hiatus- I thought I'd be back in just a few weeks and wouldn't need to make an announcement or anything so that's why I didn't post about it.

As for the current situation: I've been pretty stressed with course work, exams and also my personal life lately, and it probably won't get any less stressful the next couple of weeks or even months. But I do still want to write on this account because it also helps me to relive some stress. So I will be posting again - I hope soon, but I can't make promises at the moment - but it won't be as regularly as before. I'll just be writing when I feel like it and when it doesn't add to my work load, and I probably won't have any writing schedule, but I hope I can get some more content out. Just don't set your expectations too high 🫶

I've still been collecting requests and your creativity never fails to impress me. They are what motivated to write again in the first place, because all your ideas are so cool! Sadly, I won't be able to write them all, but I thank each and every one of you who took time out of your day to send me ideas!

Thank you all for your love and support, I hope you're all doing well and had a beautiful Christmas, and if you don't celebrate, wonderful holidays. ❤️

[apricot-blossomss]

Is it okay if I ask what type of s/o would the Gods be into? I find that really interesting and would like to hear your opinion since I really love your writing <3<3

This request came just right, bc I really want to write but I'm mad busy rn, and this was a lot of fun! so I kinda wrote for ... everyone.

If you're conventionally attractive, you are in Zeus' dating pool. You're exceptionally beautiful? I'm so sorry. Once he has set his eyes on you, you are not safe anywhere. There is no other factor that matters, except maybe if you're exceptionally hospitable and kind to guests, which might attract his attention. Which is not a good thing.

Poseidon would love someone unpredictable, someone who never gets boring and never fails to surprise him or catch him off guard. He'd love the excitement of it all and is generally pulled to exciting and outgoing people, but also people who are more introverted but break out of their shell at unexpected times.

If Hades had a type, it would for sure be someone a little more ... alive than him. He's clearly going for that opposites attract thing, just look at Persephone. Also, I reckon he'd like someone who can stand up for themselves, as standing up to his brothers was always very hard for him and he would admire you greatly for it.

Demeter would like someone who is humble, orderly and respectful and appreciative of the beauties of nature. Someone who finds joy in the little things and never fails to call their grandma for her birthday.

To be honest- you don't have a romantic chance with neither Hera nor Athena, Artemis or Hestia. Though I thought it would be fun to make some platonic headcanons for what kind of mortal they would take interest in in a platonic way.

Hera admires loyalty, it doesn't even have to be to a spouse, it can also be your family or friends. Also, she appreciates people who remain strong even in the face of long term hardships or anguish, and it might earn you her favor. It's not that she pities you, but that she admires your strength to keep fighting. Also, she'd love to talk shit about men with you as much as the next goddess...

Artemis isn't about the whole opposites attract thing. As with Orion, she is likely to make friends with someone who shares her interests, as she also surrounds herself with her huntresses. She loves to talk about hunting and the wild and would like someone who isn't afraid to get themselves dirty. If you're a guy, it's pretty hard to get in her good grades though.

Athena is all in for academic weapons. Critical thinkers, challenging the status quo and earning great archivements. Someone she could have an intellectual conversation with, who offers new points of argument and is able to hold their own in an argument, she is the goddess of warfare after all...

I don't think there is anyone Hestia doesn't like, though she would favor people who spend a lot of time with their family and are kind and hospitable to others. Kindness to strangers is something she very much appreciates.

Apollo doesn't really have a type. His mortal lovers are symbolic for his creative inspirations, so he would not settle for a type but be all over the board. The variety of his lovers concludes that Apollo isn't looking for a specific kind of person. He simply watches or spends time with someone and BAM he's completely and utterly in love. He does love himself an artsy spouse though.

Ares needs someone calm and peaceful- it might seem a little contradictory, but Ares needs someone to ground him, to listen to him and provide the calm for his storm. Actually, he's all for domesticity, though a hot love affair doesn't turn him away either. If his spouse had a strong personality and could stand up for themselves, he would really respect that, but he would also be your guard dog if that wasn't the case. Ares just needs someone to love him unconditionally, quite like the next god on the list.

Not to be disrespectful but Hephaestus does not care who you are, he's just happy with someone who treats him with dignity. Be kind to him and he is putty in your hands. After all his family put him through, he'd also appreciate someone to rant about them to, who can also sit in silent understanding with him at other times. But honestly, he isn't setting the bar very high.

Not to call her vain, but you would have to be insanely beautiful to be on Aphrodites radar. She simply considers herself too good to spend her time on anyone who isn't pleasing to her eye- and that really cuts down the pool of potential lovers. Also, she would only stay around for someone who is ready to give their full attention to her at all times, she is a very demanding lover.

I think Hermes would want someone who is able to keep up with him, but also root him when he overdoes it a little. It would take quite a lot for him to actually stick around, because for him to make time in his busy schedule, he'd have to be head over heels in love.

Dionysus would probably not have a specific type either, simply because he wouldn't want to cut short his dating pool. Though he would like someone who is able to let loose at least sometimes and surrender to his pull of madness and ecstasy.

Extra: Eros would mostly go for someone attractive, but he wouldn't let that be the only factor. Just as the unpredictable and surprising nature of his arrows, Eros could fall for anybody, picking out a trait he loves about them and obsessing over it for the day (I'm thinking 'Someone New' by Hozier if you know what I mean).

[apricot-blossomss]

Can I have a one shot of Dionysus please? v-v (sorry if I'm disturbing anything)

- Anon 🦋

☛ you stumble upon dionysus and his followers and he offers to free you from your abusive husband

☛ sfw; cw: spousal abuse, alcohol (duh), death, panic attack

The world was spinning. Quite literally. With no idea how you had gotten here or how to get out of the tangled mess of limbs and shredded fabric surrounding you, you stumbled through the noisy crowd. Only the ground beneath your feat felt real, or did it? Had it just moved? Didn't it rumble and thunder beneath your feet?

When you had entered the forest this evening, you had merely been looking for mushrooms for the stew. Of course you knew it was dangerous out here, but your husband had insisted on this specific dish and you didn't want him to hit you again. So you had trudged into the mysterious dark of the trees, and stumbled upon this- a large group of wildly dancing women, throwing their heads back in ecstasy, hollering and screaming, discarding clothes and drinking wine.

And here you were, caught in the middle of this horrible storm, being pulled left and right, squashed by naked bodies, hands clawing at your clothing. Your desperate attempts to find a way out of this hurricane of bodies and voices were fruitless, as, anytime you came close to escaping, you were swept away by the women again. They seemed to think you one of them, too caught up in their haze to differentiate you from them.

Panic consumed your body as you felt your control slip. You were pulled this way and that way like a ragdoll, your ears thrumming with noise. Everything was too bright, too loud, too cramped. The hectic dance drew all air from your lungs, they constricted in fear that you would be caught in this whirlwind for eternity. Tears started streaming down your cheeks, but none of the shrieking women noticed. Sobbing, you begged them to let you go, but they didn't hear you, passing you along as if you were one of them.

"Help!" you found yourself screaming, but the noise around you was so loud that you couldn't even hear your own voice. Your hands gripped the handle of your basket in desperation as you sobbed helplessly, trying to free yourself, but to no avail. When you felt your clothes rip under the wild hands of the women, you screamed again, trying to hold them up to cover yourself, sobbing helplessly.

"MENEADS!"

Somehow, a voice rang over the music and women's voices, a voice so soul-shattering and mighty that you felt like your whole body was vibrating upon hearing it. And, even more bewilderingly, the women stopped. Something happened you hadn't thought possible: the thrumming feet came to a halt, the hands let go of you, the storm subsided and the dreadful clearing was overtaken by an eerie silence. Now, you could even hear your own breath, gasping for air through your veil of tears- both terrified and relieved.

The crowd, now completely still and panting alongside you, parted before you to make way for a haunting figure. It was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His youthful features were delicate, framed by bronze locks that were adorned by a crown of ivy leaves. Purple ornaments adorned his fair skin, exposed to the air, safe for the part of his body covered by a loincloth. In his hands was a thyrsus, ridding you of all remaining doubt of his identity.

When he stopped right before you, you let go of your basket and it met the forest ground with a soft thud. Falling to your knees, you cowered before him and pressed your forehead into the dirt and raised your hands pleadingly. "Great god Dionysus," you started, but your voice wavered in fear and broke of.

You didn't dare look up when you heard a light shuffle before you, until you felt a soft touch under your skin. "Look at me, mortal." With a quivering lip, you raised your head from the ground. The god had crouched down and was studying your face intently, his thumb brushing over your jaw. His touch left tingles in its wake. His soft, pink lips pulled into a small smile. "Now, what have we here?"

"I beg your forgiveness, lord Dionysus," you said hastily, finally having found your voice again. "Please, I... I was just looking for mushrooms, I was sent to collect some when I came across this clearing. I didn't mean to- forgive me..." You didn't exactly know what crime you had committed or if you had done something wrong at all, but experience taught you that it was best to apologize to powerful men, just in case they took offense.

"Sit up"

You did, still kneeling in the dirt but now on eye level with the god. Though you didn't know wether he would take offense, you attempted to cover yourself with the remaining shreds of your dress- you were a married woman after all. When you raised your gaze from the ground, you found yourself looking directly into the gods eyes. Purple and mesmerizing, they pulled you in with an intensity that it required a great deal of restraint to look away. The god tutted and raised your chin gently once more, making you lock eyes with him.

"There is nothing to apologize for, sweet thing," he mused, giving you another smile. Your heart leapt from your chest as he did. "Now, who would send such a pretty little thing like you are alone into the woods at night?"

Under his piercing yet gentle gaze, the truth fell from your lips without your consent. "My husband. And-" you hesitated, glancing at your basket. "He will be very angry with me if I'm late." The god followed your gaze and picked up the basket, eying the few shriveled up mushrooms you had managed to find. Then, his eyes landed upon yours once more.

"What will he do if he's angry, sweet thing?" he asked softly and again, the truth escaped your lips without your permission. "He'll beat me," you whispered and heard a few meneads whisper empathetically. "He's done it before, I- I really need to get home."

After a short silence, the god sighed and handed you your basket. When you looked inside, your eyes widened. It was filled to the brim with fresh, ripe mushrooms of the kind they only had in the best taverns. Unable to utter a word, you stared at the god who gave you a cheeky smile and tipped his ivy crown, as if to say 'at your service'. "Thank you," was all you managed to say, feeling your eyes burning with relief. "Thank you so much"

Over the basket, you momentarily forgot to hold up your dress and squeaked in shock, but the god reached over, pulling one strap over your shoulder, and by his divine touch, it was restored again. Dionysus silenced your string of 'thank you's with a simple gesture. "If you do not wish to go back to your husband, I would be able to offer you another life. In another place. Even with another husband, if you wish."

"Why?" was all you managed to ask as a sudden wave of hope flooded you. You had thought you would have to spend the rest of your days a slave for your repulsive husband. Was there another way? A fresh start, somewhere? With another man? Even though you doubted you could ever find a mortal man attractive again after having seen Dionysus smile. When it faded from his face, you were spooked, as if he had made a loud noise, by the seriousness of his features.

"I don't like seeing pretty young women like yourself cry." He offered you a hand and you ogled it, gears turning very slowly in your head, though still managing to brew up a storm. "Come with me, and I will give you the life you deserve."

The offer was so tempting it took everything in you to not take his hand. Looking up at the god apologetically, you gripped your basket more tightly, knuckles turning white. "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm a married woman, I have to stay loyal to my husband." Did you imagine the slight pain in the god's eyes, or did they just reflect your own?

"Alright," the god said, nodding at to meneads who rushed to your side to help you stand. "You will not have to fear on your way back, for you will be protected, pretty lady," the god spoke, rising from his sitting position as well. Then, he got a hold of your hand, brought it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss onto it. Again, his touch left you breathless, and you found yourself longing for it as the two women guided you into the woods, feeling as if you had just made a big mistake.

As promised by the god, your way home wasn't disturbed by neither animals nor fellow mortals, though you felt like the same pair of eyes that had been burned into your memory forever were appearing behind every tree, as a fox, a bird or a snake.

Sooner than you thought possible, you had reached the edge of the forest and dread came over you when you saw your house. Your heart thumped rapidly in your chest at the prospect of stepping through that door, being at the non-existent mercy of your husband once more, his punching bag, his unpaid maid. Thinking back to the encounter with the god, you felt as if your mind had suddenly be cleared.

For the first time in your life, you had been given a choice, and you had chosen to stay in your chains? "Fuck this," you found yourself muttering, throwing the basket onto the ground and turning on your heel to flee into the sanctuary of the woods. Rushing past trees and clearings, you tried to trace back your steps, wild with hope that you weren't too late, that you would find them again. Find him again. Your lungs tightened as you ran, but you only accelerated, desperate to reach Dionysus and the meneads before they left the clearing.

But when you reached it, not a soul was left. It was empty, and the frustration and desperation made you topple over and sink to your knees, tears in your eyes and cursing yourself. Too late. You were too late.

"There you are."

Your head shot up st the voice, the voice that had been so deeply embedded in your memory as that of your tormentor. It was your husband, panting at the edge of the clearing. He had followed you. Dread pooled in your stomach when he stepped towards you and you crawled back, standing up and stumbling over your own feet in retreat. There was a look in his eyes that scared the shit out of you- he looked predatory, dangerous.

"I'll scream," you threatened with a quivering noise as he kept approaching you. But it only elicited a mocking laugh from him as he got a hold of your arm and pulled you into his chest. His brutal eyes ran along your form hungrily as he licked his lips, a mean smile distorting his face. "Who would hear you in here?"

He was right. And as the realization sank in, your stomach constricted painfully. You hated yourself for the way a tremble overtook your entire body. Your weak attempts of escape were only met with another laugh. "Did you think you could run from me, you whore?" Mustering up a last bit of strength, your arm shot forward and your clenched fist met his jaw with such force a sharp pain shot through your knuckles.

Momentarily stunned, your husband stumbled back a few steps before setting his furious eyes on you once more. "You!" Panic overtook you and you tried to run, but he grabbed you and threw you onto the ground, hovering over you and pinning your limbs to the forest floor. Your screams for help lost themselves in the cold night air as he raised his hand and-

"Am I interrupting something?"

You immediately recognized the voice, though the figure it belonged to looked quite a bit different. Dionysus sat on a tree stump a few feet away, though fully dressed and without his godly symbol. Someone who hadn't been blessed by his presence before could've mistaken him for an exceptionally beautiful mortal, as did your husband. "Fuck off, pretty boy," you said gruffly. "How I punish my wife is none of your business."

The god didn't reply, but suddenly, your husbands eyes widened and he scrambled away from you, as if he had forgotten your presence. Sitting up, you watched him stumble over his own feet, hitting and screaming at nothing, frenzied with panicked. When he stumbled over a root, he shrieked in fear, and it closed around his angle. Another grapevine reached down to trap his hands and close around his throat, squeezing as he was still yelling deliriously. Realizing what was about to happen, you turned away when his breathing got strangled and finally, stopped and a body met the ground in a thud.

A few breathless seconds of silence, then- "Thank you," you panted, standing up shakily. Somehow, he was right there, steadying you against him. When you turned your face to what was left of your husband, he tutted and guided it back to him. "Don't look at that ugly business, pretty lady. I take it you have pondered my offer, then?"

You nodded, captivated by his glowing eyes. "If it's still on the table, I'd like to join your followers, please." The god raised an eyebrow, frowning. "You sure, darling? I can get you anything and anywhere, any life you could want."

"I know." You were relieved at the steadiness of your voice and, not quite believing your own courage, dared to take the god's hand. His eyes widened, but he made no attempt to remove his hand or punish you. In fact, he even closed his fingers around yours and stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. "If it's what you wish..." he smiled softly, "you shall have your place among my followers."

You would never understand how giddy it had made him to hear those words from you that day. The god had taken a liking to you, and he was determined to give you the freedom you craved, and a life worthy of you.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[apricot-blossomss]

would it be okay to ask for maybe A dionysus/hermes/Apollo x Reader?

The gods just love giving reader multiple praises to the point it completely overwhelms them/pos

(seperate please!)

the greek gods showering mortal!f!reader in praise [apollo, hermes, dionysus x reader]

sfw, cw: mentions of a praise kink, not proofread

feels good to finally upload again, I hope I'll find more time to write next week!

APOLLO

There was perhaps no greater blessing for you personally than listening to Apollo sing, and once one witnessed him, they would find themselves aggreing with you. Which was why you had no objection when Apollo interrupted your little make out session on his settee to ask you wether he could play a song for you. Quite the opposite, actually. But now, you almost regretted it, because you felt like your head was about to explode.

His golden eyes were locked to yours, making you unable to turn your head and hide from the might of his words. Endless praise and adoration fell from his lips in the most beautiful melody. You suddenly realized you were crying, but you made no attempt to wipe the tears away as you were frozen in place, growing hotter by the minute. With newfound intensity, Apollo recited the next verses, lips pulled into a little smile as he flooded your poor helpless mind with words of devotion.

You couldn't do this any longer, you buried your burning face in your hands, overwhelmed by his divine love. The way each word sounded so genuine you began to doubt the very existence of the lie. Nearly shaking, you pulled your legs to your chest and whined. "Oh gods, please stop, it's too much!"

A soft coo made you look back up at him as Apollo played some closing strings and put the lyre aside to pull you into his lap, right were the lyre had sat. Hiding your face in your chest, you attempted to conceal the deep red of your cheeks. "You can't just say stuff like that," you muffled into his tunic and a soft rumble made his chest vibrate.

"Like what?" he asked, caressing your hidden face with his index finger before placing it underneath your chin, guiding your face up to look at him. "It's all true. Every time I look at you, my sunshine, I am lifted, gazing upon a masterpiece that must've been sculpted by a god. Or perhaps, you are your own artist?" Apollo allowed himself a little grin when you let out a loud whine and slapped his chest. Gently, his fingers closed around your wrist as he guided it to his lips to trail kisses up your arm.

"Your smile could rival the warmth of spring itself—it awakens my heart as surely as the season revives the earth." His words were blooming as always, masterfully crafted sentences praising you, as his lips, hushed into a soft whisper, trailed up your arm. "No lyre could ever match the harmony of your laughter. My music is a mere attempt to echo your perfection. You are as brilliant as all the stars of the night sky. Every word you speak is a melody to my ears, every thought of yours a revelation."

His lips reached your shoulder, making their way to your throat that was taken over by a bright pink tone, it felt like your whole body blushed, like the pink blossoms in spring. "You're going to be the death of me," you said breathlessly, burying your hands in his hair and keeping his head in place in the crook of your neck, so he couldn't talk any more of his charming words.

Apollo laughed into your neck, it muffled the sound but couldn't lessen the melody of it. A shuddering breath left your lips as you pulled him closer, and though they flustered you, you savored his words, remembering every little phrase to keep in your heart forever.

HERMES

Gods curse the day Hermes found out you had a praise kink. Because ever since he had realized how much his compliments flustered you, he exploited it maliciously. Humming sweet praises into your ear when you were going about your day and doing the most mundane things, leaving you blushing and spluttering as he retracted with a cackle. Giving you the sweetest compliments anytime he would find you unsuspecting, with your guard down, and utterly humiliating you as your heart would start to race and all you could muster up were weak stutters of embarrassment.

So, when he plopped down on the couch next to you, stretching his limbs after a long day of godly duties and regarding you with that cheeky, mischievous smile, you knew what ideas formed in his head, as if you were able to read his thoughts. Immediately, your flight instinct kicked in as you retreated into the kitchen as quickly as possible- though not fast enough. In the blink of an eye, the sneaky god had caught up to you and dragged you back into the couch with him, pulling you into his lap.

His nose nudged your chin and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "How's my beautiful girlfriend doing today?" Ignoring your petty kicking, he giggled. "You know I'm faster than you, you know I know my way around you- though, you know, you’ve got this spark about you—like you could talk your way out of anything. It’s kind of my thing, but I think you do it better."

"You're insufferable," you sighed, though you felt your cheeks heat up embarrassingly. When his fingers trailed over your stomach, you squeaked and pushed them away, making Hermes throw back his head in a loud laugh. For a moment, you were mesmerized by him- the sound of his laugh, the bounce of his curly hair, the way his face lit up, eyes squeezed shut and cheeks pink. Then, he started talking once more.

"I used to think of myself as the best of thieves," Hermes sighed, drawing circles on your thigh. "But you outdo my trickery, love, as you have stolen my heart away from right under my nose." Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush, you thought to yourself, but you knew you were as red as a tomato by now. Stuttering out protests, you felt your stomach constrict in the best way and tried to wiggle out of his arms, a fruitless attempt.

Turning your head, you glared at him, but only got a cheeky smile in return. Hermes tipped his hat and chuckled. "Gods, you're so hot when you're mad." You gave him a deadpan stare and his smile only widened. "And so cute when you're blushing like this. Honestly, sweetheart, I think you could make everything more sexy."

In a final attempt to cut him off before you could make a complete fool of yourself (even more so than you'd already done), you crashed your lips into his. And of course, Hermes would never deny you, so his eager hand shot up to cup your face and tilt it in order to get a better angle to kiss you completely senseless on his lap.

Little did he know, you had been waiting for this moment of weakness. With his hands busying themselves with cradling your face, you jumped out of his lap, evaded his reaching arms and ran upstairs, laughing breathlessly. Of course, he could've caught up with you in an instance, but Hermes seemed determined to give you a fair chase, because when you reached the highest stair, you could hear his voice, still from downstairs.

"Baby, I think that was just about the hottest thing I ever saw."

DIONYSUS

"No cuddles with that breath" you protested, dismissing your lover's drunken attempts to wrap his arms around you. Whining, Dionysus forced himself halfway into your lap, in spite of your slapping at his chest and arms, looking up at you with dreamy eyes, glazed over by the effect of whatever alcohol emitted its odeurs from his mouth. Rolling your eyes, you attempted to shove him off. "If you want to bother someone, go and hang out with your brothers."

"Nooo," Dioynsus gave a long, drawn out protest and you found yourself lamenting how he could be a thousand years old and this childish at the same time. "You are more fun," the god pouted, squinting up at you. You complimented yourself on showing no reaction whatsoever on the outside, but your insides secretly did somersaults.

"If you want fun, why don't you throw a party?" you said dismissively, flicking his temple to which he responded with another whine. At your words, a drunken little smile creeped onto his face. "You make everything more fun, even doing nothing. I swear, you’re better than wine… and that’s saying something."

"If I'm better than wine, how come that's what you have been drinking for the last hours?" you asked with a raised brow. With a genuinely shocked expression, Dionyuss shot up and stared at you wide-eyed. "You're right. I should have been drinking you, you are so much sweeter-"

Groaning, you buried your face in a pillow, considering to suffocate yourself before he could see the blush on your cheeks. Then again, how receptive could he be, in his state? Turns out, very receptive. When you discarded the pillow, his eyes hushed over the pink on your cheeks and he cooed. "Aw, baby, do you like it when I tell you how sweet you are?"

Ignoring your stubborn but whispered 'no thank you', Dionysus threw an arm around your shoulder, continuing to brabble compliments and praises into your ear. Embarrassingly, your cheeks burned even more and the god laughed joyfully.

"Baby, the way you blush... I’ve seen people lose their minds over less."

[apricot-blossomss]

Hi, I love your writings a lot. I have another Apollo idea don’t know if you like it but I wanna share it: So, Reader is a deeply devoted follower of Apollo; loyal, loving, kind and compassionate but very insecure, has many self-deprecating thoughts, still, very determined to learn something in his honour. So, she tries to learn the lyre but she is bad in it not talented at all. She is determined though and willing to sacrifice time and effort into practice.

I imagine this plays out in Ancient Greece, the reader is very poor but determined to learn it and then to try her best on the Pythian Games. Apollo is already so smitten with her; he follows her journey from far but doesn’t wanna bless her bc he wants her to success on her own. One night he shows up to her while she’s praying. First, she is afraid he is here to take away her lyre as she is not worthy of it but instead, he is super kind and supportive tells her this effort and hard work is far greater and more meaningful sacrifice than any of the treasures the kings offer to him.

So, he offers her to be her teacher from now on as she can’t afford a good teacher like the others. They have romantic moments, kisses as he continues to teach her. Of course she wins the Games, he has taught her things no human knows about the lyre. At the end of the Games, he shows up to the people and in front of everyone he offers her to go with him and play with the Muses.

This is long I know, so, please do with it whatever you want. Use parts of it if it is too long, I just wanted to share it with someone.

☛ apollo teaching mortal! fem! reader to play the lyre

☛ sfw; fluff; cw: self-doubt, stage fright; not proofread oops

"Just stop already!"

"Why do you keep trying?"

"You have no talent."

It wasn't like you didn't know they were right. A lack of self-awareness is wasn't the problem for you. It was, however, the unexplainable love you felt for the instrument in your hands. It washed out of the gentle wood of the olive tree- you heard that the high lords and ladies sometimes owned gilded or golden lyres, which you could hardly imagine. And it was your most prized possession.

You had given a lot to be able to afford it, since your family wasn't ready to pay for a endeavor as fruitless as your attempts to learn to play it. At night, you dreamt of being able to elicit beautiful tunes out of the instrument, but during the day, reality hit you like a hammer in the head as you awkwardly plucked the strings, sounding more like a dying cat than the musician you dreamed of becoming.

It wasn't fair, you thought, in moments were your frustration overwhelmed you. It wasn't fair that some people had such talent that they could effortlessly handle the instrument while someone as in love with the art of it as you struggled without seeing any results. Many times, you had prayed to Apollo, but the god had never blessed your attempts and by now, you figured it might be some sort of subliminal messaging.

But you didn't care. Well, you did, but none of it could deter you. No matter how many people shook their heads or laughed or told you to stop, you sat down for hours on end, trying to figure out the beautiful instrument. When you walked on the market or the town square, you would stop at street musicians demonstrating their craft, watching their fingers, trying to learn, but you never managed to replicate it.

Your family wanted you to learn some other craft to attract suitors and impress them, but you would not relent. You would practice, you would watch, you would pray. All in the hopes of getting the hang of the lyre someday. And no matter how many times you failed or screamed at your fingers to just do it right, resting them on top of the strings and running them along them always calmed you.

Carefully, you let your hands run up and down, simply tugging one string after the other. And somehow, you still managed to mess it up. It sounded stale and squeaky, no matter how much you tried to soften your movements. Not willing to let that deter you, you tried to play a melody you had heard one off the street musicians play yesterday on the market.

Unbeknownst to you, you had an audience you couldn't have dreamed of. Way above, golden eyes followed the movement of your fingers, listening intently, intrigued. Forearms leaned on the railing of his balcony, he had been watching you practice frequently over the course of the last months. In the beginning , it had been for his amusement. Now, it had become a part of his routine to see how you were doing.

"Brother!"

Apollo looked up from the sight of you practicing in your room to find Hermes sitting on the railing. After a short, distracted greeting, his eyes wandered down once more, as if they were attracted by a magnetic force. And, truly, you were magnetizing. Your unrelenting determination, your love for his holy instrument, the fact that you had set yourself a goal and were working so hard towards it: competing in his Pythian games.

"So, what's got you this distracted lately?" Hermes asked, letting his legs dangle. When he was denied an answer, his attentive eyes followed Apollo's gaze and found you. "Oh, so that's-"

Apollo hushed him to listen to your best efforts, a small smile gracing his lips when he realized with what care you had listened to the mysterious lyre player on the street yesterday that had conveniently played a song more fit for beginners to pick up on.

"Wow, that sounds bad," Hermes exclaimed, whistling under his breath. Curling over in laughter, he missed the pointed stare by his brother. "Planning on punishing her or why are you enduring this?"

"Shut your mouth, brother," Apollo shot back and the sharpness of his tone surprised Hermes. As he looked down once more, he watched Apollos face soften visibly as you stubbornly plucked at your strings. A small smile graced his lips and he propped his head up on his arms as he watched you intently. "She can do it, she just needs a little bit of help."

☀️

Taking a deep breath, your knees met the hard stone floor and you kneeled before Apollo's altar, bowing your head until your hair formed a curtain around your face. After all the unanswered prayers and fruitless attempts, you were still filled with admiration and wonder looking at his statue. Closing your eyes, your lips formed a hushed prayer, as every afternoon in his temple. One that always went unanswered, but if you were one thing, it was persistent.

But today, something was different. Your mind couldn't help but wonder to the humiliating exchange you had had with your mother this morning. Scoffing over your clumsy playing, she had laughed at you, telling you to the face to no longer make her and the world suffer the sound of your lyre play, that you were dishonoring Apollo himself by eliciting such horrid sounds from his holy instrument.

You couldn't help the tremble of your lip, nor the traitorous stinging of your eyes and took a long breath to calm yourself. "Great lord Apollo," you whispered into the ground, your voice laced with shame and doubt, "Please, if you wish for me to stop my attempts, if I am dishonoring you, if I am angering you, give me a sign!"

"Well, hello there."

You shot around, finding yourself face to face with a blond man in a simple but fine tunic and piercing eyes. Eyes that you knew, because you knew this man, and you had spent a full hour watching his fingers handle the lyre so gracefully. It was one of the street artists you had seen on the market, more specifically, the one you had spent your forenoon studying. Was this a divine sign or a simple coincidence?

Realizing that you still hadn't answered the greeting, you scrambled to your feet clumsily and bowed lightly, since you saw first-glance he was of higher social rank than you. Granted, the majority of people was of higher rank than you, but your eyes had picked up on the gold laced into his tunic, his jewelry and most importantly, the intricate craftsmanship of his lyre. Hidden give-aways of a wealthy pocket. "Excuse me," you said softly, smiling while bowing once more, "I'll be leaving." A musician as skilled as him was far more deserving of this temple's glory.

Hurrying past him, the sound of his voice had you stop dead in your tracks. "Do you know what talent is, m'lady?"

Several things in that sentence made you pause and turn around once more, finding the man already looking at you with those magnetic eyes. "I'm not a lady, m'lord," you said abashedly, but his smile only widened. "Sure you are. And you know the answer to my question, don't you?"

"Yes," you answered, wondering what he could possibly want out of this conversation. "It's a gift by the gods that they give to the deserving." The young man hummed with a smile on his lips. "I couldn't help but notice you look a little troubled. What did you entrust your god with, sweet lady?"

If it had been any other man, you would have retreated, excused yourself, exited the temple as fast as possible. But he radiated a feeling of safety and grace that you couldn't help but feel attracted to him, and not just in the physical sense. Even though you had no idea why a man like that would spare a girl like you just a glance. Maybe he was one of those men who took advantage of poor girls like you, but somehow, your gut told you that you could trust him.

"I-," you hesitated, but then, the words broke out of you like a waterfall as you told him about your troubles. Maybe it was because no one listened to you, ever, but you trusted this man with everything. "It sounds horrible," you ended your ramblings, trying to conceal your damp eyes. "Everyone keeps telling me to stop trying, but I want to learn. But, what if I'm disgracing god Apollo himself with how horrible I am?"

"You aren't," the man said with an enigmatic smile and you wrung your hands. "You haven't heard me play, I'm atrocious!"

"Hey," he answered soothingly, taking a step towards you. "You aren't. You just need a teacher. I could teach you," he offered kindly, but you shook your head in protest. "No, m'lord, I have no means to afford it. See, I am a poor woman, I don't have any money of my own and my family would never come up for it. I don't have the financial means to compensate you."

His smile only widened and looking up at him, it left you quite breathless. You couldn't explain it, but there was something about it that made you feel as if warmed up by the sun itself. This man had to be blessed by Apollo. "I don't ask for compensation. I'd give you lessons for free."

Now, that was really suspicious. You weren't stupid, there was a good chance this was a ploy to take advantage of you in some way, because the offer sounded too good to be true. Such a talented artist simply stumbling over you in a temple and offering free lessons? At the same time, you were also desperate. And this man was really talented. If he was being genuine, were you throwing out the opportunity of your life? After a short silence, you looked back up at him. "Why would you do that? Offer to teach me for free, I mean."

A sudden breeze disheveled the man's golden locks, his charming smile unwavering. "Ah, you see... It's because I'm Apollo." Because you had any chance to register the words, the light seemed to explode before your eyes and a reflex brought your hand up to shield them. When you removed it, the man had changed. His robes were of pure gold, as were his shoes, equally golden marks extended over his body like tattoos and his hair was crowned by a shining halo. You were looking at divinity, and it was nearly scorching your eyes.

Shit.

Thankfully, your body showed an above average response time as you dropped to your knees so fast they met the stone floor in a way that had a sharp pain shoot up your legs. The thrumming of your racing heart was louder than any thought you might have had. Bowing down so far you were covering before the god, you pressed your forehead into the marble and raised your hands in a pleading fashion. "Forgive me, great lord Apollo, for dishonoring you by attempting so many times to learn your holy instrument when you had clearly not blessed my endeavors. Please, punish me to any extent you see fit but have mercy on-"

The god interrupted your terrified rambling by placing a hand on your shoulder, rendering you speechless just as effectively as a slap in the face might have. When he spoke your name, you looked up at him tentatively. Looking at Apollo was like looking at the sun itself, and if the man had been handsome before, in this form, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid your mortal eyes on.

"Loving the lyre as much as you do is not dishonoring me," the god said and his voice was so smooth and beautiful it wiped your head clean of thought. "Quite the opposite, actually. Your dedication to my instrument is admirable. Hence the reason my offer is still awaiting an answer."

"But-" you squeaked in response and tried suppress the trembling of your nervously wringing hands. "Why would you do that? Why would you teach me?"

You wouldn't get an answer to that question for some time, but it didn't need a lot of convincing for you to agree to let him be your tutor. To avoid your parent's suspicion, you let him in a grove just outside the city gates where he first taught you the basics, gave you theoretical lessons on the functioning of the lyre and showed you the best way to handle it, which you continuously had problems with. But Apollo was incredibly patient, and your nervousness around him subsided quickly.

Over the course of the next weeks and months, he would show you how to approach the instrument, give you practice and help you improve your lyre play. And after some time, you found yourself looking forward to the lessons not only because of the lessons themselves but for the pleasure of his company. You couldn't deny that Apollo's charming wits had done a number on you, and the way you were ogling his hands as he so masterfully demonstrated it in his instrument would have been shameless if it hadn't been for educational purposes (along others).

There were moments when you yourself wondered if the god may reciprocate your romantic interest, as silly as that thought was. The way he lightened up seeing you approach him, the way he was always waiting for you and the way you caught him glancing at you instead of your lyre from time to time. But you stocked it up to your silly mortal delusions. Why would a god be interested in you?

At the same time, said god found himself falling head over heels for you. He had been smitten with you before meeting you, but being around you, seeing you come out of your shell and starting to feel comfortable around him, showing him your true colors- he was so done for. If he hadn't been his fathers favorite son (he was still working on that favorite child title but Athena was hard to beat) he would have earned a few stern talks by now for slaking off, as he procrastinated or full on ignored divine duties in favor of your lessons.

Your humor and laugh pulled him in, your dedication was unmatched and seeing your eyes light up when you succeeded in something did something to him. A blooming feeling in his chest that consumed his thoughts, sending him into the sweetest daydreams. And it was only fueled every time he got to be with you, be around you, enjoy your company. He tended to get caught up in it, and sometimes you caught him staring at you and he always wondered wether you knew what you did to him with those little glances and witty comments of yours.

Nothing excited you more than the progress you were starting to make. The strings were no longer squeaky and you had even managed to play some easy melodies that got more complex as time went on. You were astonished by your own progress, which was of course thanks to the fact that you had the best teacher anyone could dream of, but also hours upon hours of sleepless nights, practicing diligently.

When Apollo found out about those, he was surprisingly worried and you couldn't help but be giddy that he cared. But you listened and got your sleep that he insisted on, if only fleckig praise, seeing the showdowns under your eyes disappear. Also, you were convinced his presence in your life was some sort of good-luck-charm, because there had been no fourth year old suitors asking for your hand in marriage ever since you were a few weeks into your lessons.

But your strumming technique still wasn't as smooth as could be. "You need to feel the music flow through your fingers," Apollo told you, making it look criminally easy as he demonstrated it. "They need to move with the music, as smooth as the music. You are tugging, but you need to caress." His eyes met yours in a silent request to try it for yourselves.

Touched stuck in between your teeth, you tried to imagine the music flowing into your body down to your fingertips, trying to move them naturally along the strings. But still, it didn't sound quite right. To your surprise, Apollo smiled empathetically and leaned over, covering your small hand with his larger one and mimicking the correct movement.

You tried to concentrate, you really did, but it was hard when Apollo sat closer to you on the grass, settling behind you so that his arms almost caged you in, his breath fanning over your neck. Luckily, he couldn't see the redness on your cheeks like this. "Relax," he told you and a light chuckle left his lips. "Are you still scared of me, sunshine?"

Sunshine. It was his nickname for you, and the way he said it made it sound like a melody in itself. "I'm not," you answered truthfully, letting him gently guide your movements. "But I don't think you realize what divine proximity does to a mortal."

Because of your proximity, you felt his head shift as his gaze wandered to you. You didn't return it, because you knew you would get lost in it if you did. "What does it do to you?" the god asked in a hushed voice, and the teasing undertone had your lips twitch. "It feels weird when you touch me," you explained, your fingers taking a little more initiative in running over the strings. "Like you're too real and not at all at the same time. I can't really explain it, but it's like touching raw might. That would feel weird, right?"

"You always manage to surprise me, sunshine," Apollo said and you could hear the smile in his voice. "It looks like there is a poet in you." He let go of you, letting your fingers act on their own and it sounded much better than before. Nothing the difference, you smiled triumphantly. "Don't flatter me, I might get too much of the hubris, m'lord."

"It isn't hubris when it's true," his voice spoke softly as you started to play the tune from before. It sounded much more graceful now and Apollo's adoring gaze, hidden from your view, traced the movement of your fingers, up your arms to your face. When your fingers had become more sure, you turned to him, no doubt with a smart reply on the tip of your tongue, but you fell silent when you found yourself mere breaths away from the god, who seemed just as taken aback by the sudden proximity.

But he didn't pull away, and neither did you. Fingers slowing down, you couldn't rip your eyes away from the mesmerizing gold of his eyes. Apollo smelled of honey and flowers, a smell so sweet it made sense paired with his smile. Though he wasn't smiling now. His lips were parted lightly as he stared at you just as intensely as you watched him.

Slowly but steadily, the tension in the tight little space between you two got too much for you. Your breathing picked up and you had to avert your eyes when his fell down onto your heaving chest and snapped back up at yours with a new hunger. Coughing under your breath, you moved away from him by a few inches, trying to hide how flustered you were. But if you had turned around, you would have caught a rare sight: the god of music looking at you with heart eyes, his cheeks painted by a pink hue.

Little moments like these only pulled you in deeper. Embarrassingly, you had begun dreaming of Apollo, about his smile, his lyre-play, his voice. It was the most prevalent in your dreams, as if he was singing you a lullaby every night. You found yourself thinking about him every time of the day, getting caught up in vivid daydreams as you completed your chores, feeling as though he was with you every time you practiced.

Though that may have not been an entirely unfounded feeling. Sometimes, Apollo would say things during your lessons that had you suspect he was listening in on you practicing- at least sometimes. Why he occupied himself with something he could have so often, you didn't know. But you did feel honored.

Progress was coming, you were getting better, though there were also setbacks. As before, you didn't have natural talent, and sometimes you struggled to a point of frustration that had your movements grow sloppy and disjointed, gnawing on your bottom lip in dissatisfaction. "Hey." You looked up at Apollo who had picked up on your growing annoyance and sighed. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," he answered, gently prying the instrument from your hands. "I think you could use a break." And before you could protest, he added: "How about I play something just for you for a change?" Now, that shut you up real quick and you let him put your lyre aside. Apollo would demonstrate bits of songs or movements for you, but never whole songs, and the prospect of witnessing the god perform one made you giddy with excitement.

Under your curious gaze, Apollo propped up his instrument with great flair and began playing. The melody was unlike anything you had heard before. It was so interacted and beautiful, so masterfully crafted it brought tears to your eyes as you sat there and listened. But none of it could have prepared you for when Apollo started to sing. You had to close your eyes, because looking at him and listening to his singing at the same time was simply too much. You were pretty sure you could get addicted to the sound of his singing.

Apollo sing of pine trees, of secret meetings, of soft lyre tunes, the sounds of two instruments mingling. It was that last part that had you perk up. Could it be? Your grove who dusted of pine trees, you met him in secret- was he singing a sound about your lessons? Or were you just being delusional, thinking the god apollo would write a song- about you. Because now, he was singing about a girl under the pine trees with a lyre. Your heart was thrumming loudly in your chest, and it was the only sound resonating in your ears when Apollo ended the song.

You had to work up the strength to open your eyes, and when you did, he was watching you already, his eyes boring themselves into yours. With the melody still filling your head, you reached for your lyre, but Apollo didn't even register your movement. All he could see was you, as he desperately tried to gauge your reaction. Did you like the song? You had to, he had poured his heart into it. But he would write more. His heart was overflowing with memories as he watched the concentrated furrow of your brows.

And then, you started playing the song.

At once, Apollo snapped out of his trance as his insides roared with another form of adoration. You were playing his song, your song, the song he had written just for you. As if you were answering him. Sure, it sounded a little hesitant, but he was surprised about how masterful it sounded. You had become an expert player, in spite of your setbacks. And it looked like you had the same realization, because you looked up from the instrument and up at him with a glowing expression that said 'I did it!' and he could only nod in astonishment.

As the date of the Pythian games grew closer, so did Apollo and you, developing your inside jokes and becoming more comfortable with physical affection. It was safe to say you were friends with a god, which was something you could have never dreamed about. But as the date approached, your nerves were a little- tense, so to speak.

You cursed when suddenly, something snapped and a string of the lyre broke off, flinging your hand and marking it with a long red line. "Ow," you exclaimed and immediately, Apollo was all over you, taking your hurting hand into his. "Can you fix the string?" you asked nervously and earned a raised eyebrow from Apollo. "What do you think? And your hand is the priority here, sunshine."

"Right," you nodded, nibbling on your lip. "I need it to perform well." A long sigh left the gods lips as they ghosted over the palm of your hand. You jumped when they pressed down on your sore skin and an unfamiliar sensation, a warm prickling, emerged from the spot where he had bestowed a kiss upon you, rushing to your tummy where it exploded into a million golden butterflies, rummaging against your ribcage.

"Sunshine?"

"Huh?" you said, startled, and he showed you your hand, completely untouched, not a trace of the injury. You turned it around as if you were to find the mark, but it had vanished completely. "Thank you!" you smiled, picking up the lyre and holding it to his chest. "Now the string!"

Apollo sighed once more. Youn knew he could have easily fixed it, but for some reason, he opted to do it manually, pulling a spare string out of his tunic and getting to work removing the broken one. "Why are you doing it like this?" you found yourself asking, watching his graceful fingers as the expertly worked on the lyre.

"If you don't struggle from time to time, what's the point to life?" Apollo asked in a light-hearted tone, though you detected something heavier in the statement.

You hummed, thinking about that. "If you don't struggle, you can't succeed." Apollo looked up at you and nodded before returning his attention to the lyre. "That makes sense," you lamented, watching him intently. "But you don't seem like that kind of god to me." When he raised his brows, you attempted to explain yourself. "Of course, I don't know many gods, I only know you, but you don't seem very... human. You seem very content with being larger than life and divine."

The god hummed, inserting the new string. "You made me realize some things, sunshine. You have struggled so much, and have still persistent. Believe it or not, I think you're much stronger than I am. If I were you, I'd have given up a long time ago, because of what you said precisely: I don't need to struggle as much as you do."

Laughing to yourself, you shook your head in disbelief. "You're right, I don't believe you, but still, thank you. And I didn't know being untouchable could get to you like that."

"Oh, I'm far from untouchable," Apollo reassured you as he handed you back your lyre. "I have been touched and I am touched right now. Do you know why I take so many mortal lovers?" You shook your head and Apollo flopped down on his back, resting his head on his arm as he looked up at the sky above. "I love being touched by you mortals. It's an unimaginable thrill. To be a part of a life that is so fragile and so hardened at the same time is a privilege. Humanity is not a weakness but an unimaginable strength."

When he closed his eyes, yours were free to roam his resting body undetected, running over his golden marks and getting caught up on his face, as always. "I always thought... the fact that I had to struggle so much was because I was weak."

Apollo opened his eyes to look at you, and they were so heavy with emotion you had to avert yours. "Weak? Sunshine, you are so strong."

☀️

Delphi was an unsurprisingly beautiful city. As your travel companion, Apollo had disguised himself as a mortal once more and escorted you safely there, even arranging for your stay. During the religious ceremonies in his honor, he had been giggling in your ear in a way that had some priests give him pointed stares for interrupting the process and you jabbing your elbow into his side, making him whine at you being mean.

Then came the actual contest. The other performances flew by you as you had a hard time concealing your nerves, but Apollos calling presence helped. His hand squeezed you every once in a while, and when it was nearly your turn, he guided you to a spot next to the arena from which the performers entered the stage. His bigger hands engulfed your shaking once as he pressed them to his chest. You were surprised to find his heart drumming in a high frequency and widened your eyes at him.

"I can't help it, I'm nervous, too," he smiled cheekily and you bit down on your bottom lip. "Well, it's not you who is about to perform in front of hundreds of people. What if I mess up? What if I'm bad? I don't even have any real talent."

"Do you remember our first conversation?" the god interrupted your ramblings, pulling you closer to him. When you shook your head, he smiled softly and stuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "You said that you mortals get your talents from us gods. Well, it's true. I didn't bless you with talent. Do you know why?" You shook your head and he continued.

"Because you tried anyway, and you would not give up. Because of the devotion and love you hold for the lyre. You fought and you struggled, and you made great progress, without any advantages. I never answered your prayers I didn't want you to lose that. You are greater than any of the other artists assembled because of it. I have rarely seen such determination. And I knew you could do it." The god took a long breath. "And it was what made me start to fall in love with you."

Your head snapped up once you processed the words. "You... what?" Apollo delayed the answer by bringing your hands up to his lips and kissing each of your fingertips, making a warmth flood through them that ended their shaking. "I love you. So much. If that song wasn't enough to tell you."

"So it was for me?" you asked, mesmerized, deaf to the announcement of your name. Apollo smiled down at you, leaning in to kiss your temple, your cheek, and finally, his lips met yours. As if they had been waiting for it all along, your arms flew up to wrap themselves around his neck, pulling him closer as his hands dug into your sides.

Suddenly, you felt something on the top of your head and broke from the kiss to feel it. It was a laurel wreath. It was Apollo's laurel wreath. Your eyes were as wide as plates, you were sure, and Apollo chuckled, pointing to it with his chin. "You have my favor, sunshine. Now go and show them what real prowess is."

When you stepped onto the stage, you were overwhelmed by the cheers of the audience. As it was tradition, you recounted a prayer to Apollo, who you spotted in the front row, holding onto your lyre like your lifeline. Then, the crowd fell silence and it was your turn to play.

☀️

In retrospect, you could have anticipated it, as you knew things about the lyre no other mortal could know, thanks to Apollo. But it still blew you away when the pronounced winner of the Pythian games was you. As if in a trance, your ears drowned out the cheers of the audience as you kneeled before the priest who placed the winner's laurel wreath- you had taken off Apollo's, of course - on your head, congratulating you on your outstanding performance.

But even as you barely registered the noise of the crowd, it did catch your attention when it suddenly subsided at once, giving away to a deadly silence. The priest gasped, he was the first one to fall to his knees. Because at the top of the arena's stairs stood Apollo in all his glory, emitting pure power and might. When he met your eye, he winked at you.

As Apollo walked down the stairs, all of the spectators covered, falling to their knees and throwing themselves at his feet. But Apollo didn't take notice of them, his eyes were locked on you as he approached you. A tugging at your skirt made you look down, where the priest made a motion, urging you to kneel as well. When Apollo spoke, his voice filled the whole arena.

"This woman will kneel for no one." His smile was so radiant it took your breath away. So magnetizing you almost missed the hand he was stretching out, waiting for you to take it. Apollo called your name. "I shall invite you to put your skill to good use. Take my hand and play with me and the muses, sunshine."

Gasped echoed all around you, but all you could see and hear and feel was him. Without hesitation, you placed your hand in his and it closed firmly around your hand. Urging you closer softly, the god put his free arm around your waist. "Ready to go home, sunshine?"

Your nod was all he needed before he raised you up into the clouds, leaving all bystanders speechless- but not for long. Soon, your story would spread through all of Greece, your name immortalized next to the muses, and held in prayers because it was realized how much more benevolent Apollo was to those who praised your name alongside his.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[apricot-blossomss]

Okokokok hear me out right

The reader is friends with hermes (God or moral reader, your choice!) And they asked hermes to deliver a love letter for them! Days, even weeks go by and Hermes still hasn't delivered it. He doesn't want to, he doesn't want the reader to be directing their attention at anything but him. Maybe this love interest will get tired of waiting! Maybe he should just hold onto it forever. Maybe he should just read the letter himself and decide if this person is good enough for the reader?

And then he reads it and its says something like "hermes I knew you couldn't stop yourself from reading this, I love you, you bastard"

Just an idea <3

☛ hermes steals f!bff!mortal!reader's love letter

☛ sfw; cw: a little suggestive; I got covid so I have some time on my hands

When you asked him for a favor, Hermes couldn't have imagined a world in which he wouldn't fulfill it. Up until now. Staring down at the pink envelope in his hands, he felt his chest constrict with a feeling that could be perfectly encapsulated in the word 'shit'.

"Hermes?"

"Huh?" He looked up into your eyes and kept staring as you laughed about his dumbfounded expression. Your lovely laugh didn't make the situation any better for him, though it usually did. Now, it only added to the growing whirlwind in his stomach, clawing at his insides, screaming at him 'too late, you're too late, idiot'.

"Can you deliver this for me?" you repeated the question. "It's for someone very important to me."

Why not him? Why weren't you sending it to him? He was important to you, he had to be more important to you than whatever douche this letter was for. Hermes had to swallow down the urge to rip the stupid thing to shreds. But it looked like you had put a lot of care into the letter. It even smelled of sweet citrus, which really pissed him off, because the smell was so utterly you and he didn't want any other man associated with it.

"Yeah, sure," he said, forcing a smile onto his face. Gods, it hurt. The worst of it was the way your smile brightened, your eyes so kind and happy when you gleamed up at him. This wasn't right, you only smiled at him like that. Right?

Without turning the letter to look at the addressee, Hermes stuffed it into his bag that was already filled to the brim without much care. Maybe the bag could accidentally slip over the ocean and spill all the letters. Or he could throw it into Hestia's fire and pretend it was an accident. Or maybe he could deliver the letter but hide it somewhere the guy would never find it. Then he would have delivered the letter, technically.

Over pondering this conundrum, his attentive eyes missed the nervous twitching of your fingers and your excited little glances, as well as the way you practically shoved him outside the door with some rushed goodbyes to run into your bedroom and scream into your pillow.

Hermes stood in front of the closed door and had been standing there for a good minute, but he couldn't get his quick feet to move. On the other side of that door was you. You, with the gentle eyes, the dazzling smile and the understanding heart. You, who was his solace after a long day, his joy, his best friend. Right. His best friend he should not have these thoughts about.

Oh, but how dearly he wished to break down these doors, walk up to you and kiss you. How he dreamt of coming home to you, not just in his head and heart but also in reality. Like he already did, he would knock in your window and you'd let him in as if he were a stray pigeon, laughing at his jokes and winks and flirtatious comments. But in his fantasy, it didn't stop there. No, you would kiss him and tell him how much you missed him, he'd surprise you with a romantic picknick and spend the night with you and fall asleep in your warm arms.

Blinking, Hermes snapped out of his daydreams and cursed himself. He was a leecher, thinking about his damn pretty best friend like that. Sighing, he pulled his hat deeper into his face, obscuring his eyes, and set off for his job with flying feet. Knowing damn well he would not be able to concentrate on a single thing today.

🪽

Hermes had never messed up so many deliveries as in the last two weeks- and it wasn't even on purpose. Unlike his father suspected, ever since he had accidentally opened Aphrodite's sex toy delivery. The smacking down still made him wince, even a good five days later. And Hermes tried to concentrate , he really did, but it was hard when the damn letter, still safely stored in his bag, lay heavily on his mind. Stupid, flimsy little thing.

Hermes didn't want to deliver it. He didn't want anyone to get it, and though the guilt ate him up from the inside, he couldn't deny it: he wanted you all to himself. Selfishly, greedily, he didn't want you to give your attention to any man but him- at least not in that way. And, hey, maybe if he procrastinated it long enough, the guy would get tired of waiting and you would just forget him. Maybe he should just hold onto the letter forever.

"Hermes?" you poked his cheek and the god snapped out of his whirlwind of thoughts. Sitting on your couch, he realized you had stood up before him. Your concerned eyes hovered over him and he had to gulp down the urge to pull you down into his lap so he could study them more closely. "Are you okay? You kinda spaced out there for a second."

"I'm fine, baby," he smiled, glancing up at you sheepishly. "I'm not myself tonight." Your forgiving smile was too much for him as he let his upper body slump forward. His head, luckily hat-less as always around you, weighed against your upper body and when it vibrated with your little laugh, Hermes savored the comforting feeling. Choosing to tempt fate and test his luck, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down into his lap, eliciting the most adorable squeak from you. He had to suppress the urge to bite you- you were just too cute.

Your friendship with Hermes had always been very affectionate. Lots of hugging, sitting halfway in each others laps, even sleeping next to each other sometimes, too which you would always wake up to an arm wrapped around your waist and a face in your neck. This open display of affection had you wonder first wether Hermes might see you as more than a friend, when his hand always dipped a little farther down, gripped a little tighter than necessary, when he buried his face in your neck and hugged you as if he never wanted to let go again.

Apart from the fact that having a literal god cling to you like a koala bear was a major ego boost, you really liked Hermes, in more ways than the platonic love you two shared. For weeks you had pondered how to do it and finally worked out a plan: you would give Hermes a love letter with a false address. If he delivered it, no one would read it, but if he liked you back and would try to read it...

"Where are we, like, in the plot?" Hermes muffled into your neck and you felt a light shiver run down your spine- you hoped he didn't notice, but you felt his signature grin form against your skin, and his hands departing from their grip on your hips with fingers like spiders up your sides. Squirming, you swatted them away and the god laughed, still holding you close.

"She slept with both of them and now she hates herself," you answered quickly to shut him up. Managing to get a hold of his hands, you pressed them down onto his lap with little resistance and squeezed them under your thighs to block their means of escape. A choking sound left Hermes' and the god coughed, slipping his hands away and placing you next to him on the couch.

Ouch.

What you didn't know was the war for self-control raging inside your best friend the minute you placed your thighs so deliciously and grabbable over his hands. When his daydreams had, up to now, consisted of confessing your love to each other and innocent kissing, he now felt the overwhelming urge to grab you by the thighs, flip you over on your little couch and have you scream out his name- and his name only. For that one, Hermes gave himself a mental beating and gave you a little smile to conceal his red cheeks- and the fact that you would get wind of his predicament if you only looked down into his lap.

"Sounds great!" Honestly, he didn't even remember your answer to his question, and his overly enthusiastic reaction had you giggling. And that was really all he needed to be happy. Why did he want more? Why was he so insatiable?

The movie was pretty boring, and you seemed to think so too, because your gaze wandered frequently and you caught his incessant staring multiple times. But neither of you turned it off, because really, it was fine. Sitting next to to each other, your head coming to rest on your shoulder at some point, his hand slipping into yours in a completely platonic way.

“Hermes?” you asked when the love interest on screen started to have an intense melodramatic meltdown (Hermes did feel seen).

“Hm?”

"Have you... delivered that letter yet?" You fidgeted with your fingers nervously, but Hermes' stomach dropped down to his feet at least. Shit.

"What letter?" Hermes could have punched himself in the face.

"The love letter I gave to you," you explained carefully. "It's just... I never got an answer so I thought maybe you lost it or..." Your voice droned off and you bit down on your lip nervously. Was Hermes purposefully avoiding the topic? Had he read the letter and now wanted to ignore it out of existence because he didn't feel the same way? You had been so sure there was more to it. At least he wasn't making fun of you, but it was still humiliating, thinking he had read those lines and-

"Ah, that one!" Hermes exclaimed and you flinched at his loud tone. A nervous chuckle left his lips. "Uh yeah, I'm so sorry, baby, I must have forgotten about that one, I forget things sometimes, lots of stuff to deliver and sometimes letters get left behind and..." His rambling droned off and he bit down on his lip like a child caught in a lie, looking up at you.

Your understanding smile nearly killed him. It would have, if it could have. Hermes felt like the biggest asshole when you sighed relieved. "Ah, good, I was a little worried." Fittingly, the lady on screen screamed loudly about how much she hated herself and Hermes pondered over how he could relate to every single one of these over-the-top characters.

🪽

"Good night," you smiled as Hermes exited the door and turned around to you. You were dressed all oversized and cuddly with those warm winter socks and looked just about irresistible. Especially with the way the stars reflected in your wide, slightly tired eyes.

Following a shy impulse, he didn't give you a hug, as usual, but pressed a kiss to your warm cheek. When he pulled away, he did feel satisfaction at the way your face had heated up visibly, even in the dim light. "G'night, baby," he grinned with new fervor and a dreadful feeling in his stomach.

When he turned to leave and pushed himself off the ground to fly up into the air, his decision was made. He would deliver the damn letter. No longer would he be in the way of your happiness. If this guy really was who you wanted...

But, Hermes pondered as the houses of your neighborhood shrunk down to little lights, like the sky but below him, and one of the stars was you. But he should make sure this person was good enough for you. And have an address in case they weren't.

Stopping mid-air, Hermes pulled out the dreaded pink envelope. Not recognizing the address, he decided to look for clues in the letter itself. If you were to ask him, the envelope just kind of ... slipped open and the letter just sort of slipped out of there. When he pulled it out, the familiar smell hit him. After two weeks in his bag, the envelope had lost your smell, but it still stuck to the letter it self. With slightly trembling hands, he unfolded the paper, surprised to find only a few lines written in your handwriting.

Hermes, I knew you wouldn't able to stop yourself from reading this. The address is fake, this letter is for you. I love you, you idiot.

Below that, you had given him three options to pick: () don't ever come near me again, () let's ignore this ever happened because you are the shrek to my donkey, () I love you too. Your messy handwriting on that part had him smile, because he could picture you writing the letter, becoming unsure of yourself and scribbling three options down.

Hermes didn't even bother ticking off option three. He had no time to waste. Within seconds, he was bolting down to earth with the speed of a meteor, the wind howling in his ears, the letter firmly in his hand. You were completely right. He was an idiot. But an idiot who was about to make all your time of waiting up to you.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[apricot-blossomss]

Mm what about a date night with the gods/goddesses? (you can choose whoever you’d like to write this for, but I’d love for it to include hermes! if you do decide to write this tysm in advance <3)

☛ date night with the gods [apollo, hermes, ares, dionysus x reader]

☛ sfw; I'm pretty busy right now, so until I have the time for oneshots, something shorter...

APOLLO takes you to a concert

There were few things Apollo loved more than impressing you with his skills. Boasting with his prophetic abilities, winking at you when fixing up injuries, but most of all singing to you the songs he composed in honor of you. The only downside to that was that he couldn't really have you like this when he did: flush against him, your impossibly soft lips on his, both drunk on each other and the music filling your ears.

When he found out you had a favorite artist after him, his first instinct was to call for a contest of skill, but the guy did have talent that was put to good use right now: you were delighted to be at the concert and he could kiss you stupid between singing people and dancing bodies. You had fantastic taste in music, he had to admit the singer was truly an artist, even though he of course didn't even come close to his level.

Your hips mimicked his movement, moving subconsciously with the rhythm. In need of air, you broke from the kiss -you mortals were all so bound by nature- looking up at him with those starry eyes of yours. His gaze wandered from your stunningly beautiful eyes down to your kiss-bitten lips and he grinned at you, nudging your nose with his and prompting you to meet his lips once more. Apollo had unshakable confidence, but it didn't hurt to remind you of how amazing he was when the artist started playing one of your favorite songs of his discography.

After a few second, you broke away from the gentle kisses once more, but not to breathe. You leaned closer to him and started to sing along to the music, right next to his ear. His initial mild annoyance at you singing another artist's song quickly faded, because you were singing just for him. You were always very adamant to avoid singing in his presence because you were insecure, but now you were singing and Apollo could have dropped to his knees for you right there on the dance floor.

Instead, he leaned closer to you, engulfed you in his arms and started singing along as well, quietly, close to your ear. A light shudder ran over your body and your voice quivered a little, making him smile. Softly swaying, singing to each other in your own little bubble, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of an electrocuted crowd and the vibrations of a deep bass, his world shrank down. From the limitless perception of a god down to just you and him, just this moment, frozen in time, forever.

HERMES runs through new york with you

"Stop!" you had to cry out, stumbling to a halt as Hermes' arm sneaked around your waist to stabilize you against him. Pressing a hand into your side, you gasped for air, completely out of breath. Your godly companion broke out into a hazy giggle when you panted against him and earned a playfully upset stare. "I'm not as fast as you, Hermes."

"Sorry, baby," the god smiled sheepishly, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet. You waved it off and kneeled down on the ground, completely drained. When Hermes had proposed to take you out on a date night, you hadn't imagined speeding through New York with him, slipping in and out of the never ending shadows of the skyscrapers, faces lit up in a rainbow of the colors of the colorful blinking shop signs.

"Noo, don't give up now, baby," Hermes cooed, pulling you to your feet and ignoring your weak protests. His eyes were gleaming with excitement- and a hint of madness. "We're almost there."

"We're going somewhere?" you asked weakly and a wide, boyish grin spread across his features. "Of course! Up there." And he pointed at the top of the tall office building you had paused at. Your jaw fell slack. "You're kidding."

He wasn't.

Moments later, he was lifting you up by the waist; five, ten, twenty feet off the ground and even higher up. One look at the disappearing ground had your stomach churn, so you opted for burying your face in Hermes' chest. A soft peck on your cheek made you look up into his eyes. In them, you saw the lights of the city reflected. Blue, red, yellow, green, purple. There were no stars to be seen over New York. But that was fine. You had one of your own. And he shone even brighter.

ARES takes you to a restaurant

Ares was sweating, and the suit didn't help. Checking his clock every other second, even though you weren't even late yet. Still, he felt just about ready to kill the next peasant that gave him an irritating look, as he was waiting before the most expensive restaurant of the city, alone, writhing and looking more like a security guard than anything else. Why had he come twenty minutes early? Now he looked like an idiot.

Restaurants weren't really his thing. If it had been solely up to him, he would have taken you to a fighting ring or an exciting war zone, but for you, he wanted to make everything perfect. So, when he asked chatGPT for help and it had told him that a good date idea was to take your significant other to the restaurant, he had been willing to set his discomfort aside.

"Ares!"

It was almost embarrassing how fast his frown subsided and was replaced by a rare smile on his features at the sight of you, stumbling out of an uber in a knee-long red dress that took his breath away. Seemingly not too experienced in your red heels, you wobbled up the way to the entrance and Ares met you halfway, instinctively putting an arm around your waist to stabilize you.

"You look pretty," he murmured under his breath and thought about how frustrating it was to know that his brother could have composed an ode to your beauty while he was left desperately searching his blank mind for the appropriate words. But even though his words had been all but poetic, you lit up and smiled at him brightly. "Thank you, Ares. You too." Ares hid his blush by turning to the entrance and nudging you forward, but the gentle tap of your hand told him you saw right through him.

DIONYSUS took you to a party... you think...

You were probably giggling, but all you could hear was the rushing in your ears and your favorite sound on earth: the laugh of your divine lover. Slumping against Dionysus, you passed by some pedestrians that were no doubt giving you dirty looks, but you really couldn't tell. A knot of two intertwined bodies swaying down the quiet suburban street in the dead of night, laughing obnoxiously and black out drunk.

How had you even gotten here? The fresh air helped a little with the fog in your mind, but one look at Dionysus' fiery eyes and you were in a blissful haze once more. The only reason your stumbling feet hadn't sent you falling to the ground yet was the inebriated god's arms around your waist as the two of you ran away from piqued suburban pedestrians on the late evening walk into the parking lot of some supermarket.

"How did we get here?" you wheezed, stumbling around the parking area. Dionysus only shrugged, his face showing the cutest of pouts. "It's not very fun here."

Shrugging off his arms, you sat down on the concrete and flopped onto your back, looking up at the sky. There was a decent number of stars to be seen. The god layed down beside you much more gracefully and rolled onto his belly, encircling your waist with his arms and hiding his face in the crook of your neck where he placed a trail of sloppy, drunken kisses.

You felt his lips move against your neck, giggling out drunken little confessions, his arms pulling you more tightly against his chest. His soft body and your pleasantly buzzing head minimized the discomfort of the concrete as you cuddled into him. Your eyes wandered up above, to the stars, where he said he always watched you from. Maybe he would take you with him one day. If what he was rambling into your skin had the slightest bit of sincerity to it.

[apricot-blossomss]

Heyy.. would it be alright if to request more Apollo? Specifically exploring more on his fear of potentially losing you just like he's lost all his previous lovers? 😔

☛ apollo insists to be in the delivery room when you birth your child, afraid of what might happen

☛ sfw; tw: childbirth, blood, fear of dying, fear of losing someone; mortal!fem! reader; inspired by the comments on this post

When your mother had taught you about pregnancy and childbirth, she had left out quite a lot. Like the fact that a human being pushing out of you was a very painful and potentially deadly experience. When another contraction wrecked you, you screamed, thankfully drowning out the worried hushes of the doctors surrounding you.

They were the best in the city, assembled by your father, the king, and the fact that these famed and gifted men were sneaking such unnerved glances had anxiety shoot through you almost as badly as the next contraction. You were probably yelling at some poor midwife that had offered you a cup of water, but you really couldn't tell, because the pain, hot and white and stronger than any you had felt before, clouded your vision with tears.

More than anything, you wanted him with you now, but that was unthinkable. Fathers, much less unmarried ones, could not be in here. And so, only the light of a bloody sun offered you comfort, shining through the thin curtains of your chambers, illuminating your writhing figure. It felt like you were being teared apart, and neither doctors nor nurses were gentle with you, shouting instructions you couldn't decipher. Instead, another scream escaped your hoarse throat and you squeezed your eyes shut.

More than anything, you wished to escape your body, flee to a happier memory. A few weeks ago, Apollo had picked you up from your palace and taken you to his gardens, impossibly beautiful and divine. He had layed you down, barely letting you walk because he insisted you let him do everything, singing to you and the baby gently, engulfing you in his soothing arms. At some point, he had leaned down, smoothly transitioning from singing to whispering endless love confessions into your ear, not even stopping his poetic ramblings when you turned your head to kiss him.

You let the feeling of his warmth, the memory of your happiness and the glory of his gardens wash over you. Imagining a golden hue taking over your body, flooding over your limbs, down to the tips of your fingers. Almost, you could smell the sweet fragrance of the flowers. For a few moments, the pain was but a faint memory. Then, it hit you again. Doctors were scrambling above you, they looked worried and you squeezed your eyes shut, desperately trying to escape to the garden but failing as the reality of the situation overwhelmed you. Somewhere far away, there was a loud bang.

Apollo pushed open the palace doors with such force that they threatened to crumble under his might. The guards that had assembled to investigate the noise retreated just as hastily, falling to their knees in front of the god who had just blessed the palace with his presence. Human sized but otherwise unmistakably divine, his golden eyes tracked over the soldiers, and the ones they fell on were shook, trembling and covering. A golden halo adorned his locks, the fabrics of his tunic floating around him, moved by an invisible force.

His eyes found the officer under the soldiers and with few strides, he walked over to him, his hand gripped the man's jaw as he made him look up. The man's skin burned from the divine touch and he whimpered, not daring to meet the god's eyes. "Where is she?" His voice was surprisingly calm and restrained, though heavy with meaning and implication- and a subtle threat that didn't need to be heard.

The guard gave the directions and Apollo let go of his head, making him slump into himself. He didn't even look up when the god took off, crossing the entrance hall in a matter of seconds.

The closer Apollo came to your chambers, the louder he could hear you and he thought his heart would shatter at the screams that now guided him through the halls. He barely registered the servants and royals kneeling before him, the guards hastily opening doors for him, all he could hear was you, all he could see flashing before his waking eye were the images from his nightmares.

The sound of your screams seeped into the dark corners of his mind, a horrifying symphony. It was underlaid with images of you, cold, bloody, in the bed where he had made love to you for the first time, staring up at him with empty eyes whose joy had been forever trampled by his doing. Gilded halls flew by and their flashes formed more images, not fears but memories. No, not you, too. Not you.

Suddenly, he realized he had reached the doors to your chambers, had unconsciously stopped in front of them. It was so silent. Though they threatened to tear him to pieces, he longed for your screams, a proof that you were still breathing and fighting. He realized that he couldn't move, couldn't go in. But he had to. There he stood, all powerful and frozen, until he heard you let out a muffled cry. Apollo released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and wanted to burst through the doors when they opened and a small, old man emerged, closing it behind him and falling to his knees. He recognized him as a doctor, and two others followed.

"High lord Apollo," the first one inquired, hands raised like in prayer. "Please, remain behind closed doors. It would be improper for a lady of her station to have the father in the room."

Likely because he saw the god's eye twitching dangerously, the second doctor spoke up pleadingly. "High lord, we will do all we can to extract your child from the womb, but there has been some trouble. Please, bless our labours and remain here."

"The labours I am blessing are not yours," Apollo scoffed and approached the doors, the mortal doctors scrambling to the side and out of his way. They were not fit to treat you, they weren't looking after you, and they were trying to keep him out? Suddenly, he turned around and the doctors instantly fell to their knees once more, but his eyes didn't fly by them once, instead searching the corridor as if he was waiting for someone. All mortals jumped when his voice roared.

"EILEITHYIA!"

The midwives swarming you froze, and so did you, when a man's loud voice echoed through the room, not just jumping in between the confines of the walls but penetrating every cell and bone, making everyone jump. The worried whispering increased and fell dead silent the next moment, when something- someone- broke through the doors and stormed into the room in a ray of fire and godly might.

As soon as he saw you on the bed, drenched in sweat and probably some blood, too, his furious expression softened, crumbled before your eyes. In the blink of an eye, he was kneeling by your side, wrapping his larger hand around yours and brushing sweaty strands of hair out of your face. Apollo. His soft, soothing hand came to cradle your face and you leaned into it, suppressing a wince. "You're here"

"I am so sorry I am late," he said sincerely, caressing your cheek. His voice hardened when he addressed the midwives. "What are you waiting for? Go on." Then, his eyes found yours again. Though he gave you a reassuring smile, you could see the panic lurking in the depths of his golden irises. "How are you feeling, sunshine?"

The concern and barely concealed fear in his eyes made your heart clench and you forced a smile, despite the growing pain. "I'm fine," you tried to reassure him, smiling through the pain, "I promi-" Your own scream cut you off mid sentence when the next contraction hit, even worse than the last ones, nearly splitting you in two. "Shit- Gods- Curse you, Apollo, for putting a child into me!"

He was all over you, cooing, peppering your face with kisses and stroking your hair as you sobbed. Even in your clouded state, you saw the pain behind the facade of reassurance. "I'm sorry," he breathed, he sounded almost broken, as if he could feel your pain tenfold, and your fear was nothing next to his panic. Quite unfitting, seeing as nothing could happen to him in this situation.

"You're going to be okay," he said, but he sounded everything but convinced. In moments like these, you wished you couldn't see through him quite so well, that you could ban the knowledge of his prophetic abilities out of your mind. Because your breath constricted in panic over your own fate and that of the struggling baby. Even the best physicians had been clueless what to do, and who could possibly know more than them about childbirth?

Just then, the midwives froze once more as another person entered the room. A goddess, without any doubt, in flowing pink robes, indescribably beautiful. "Go," Apollo said, it was an order and directed at the mortals, who didn't even grab their medical instruments but scrambled out of the room in a haste. The young woman let them pass by and then approached the bed, frowning. "Sunshine?" Apollo said softly, grabbing your attention. "That's my sister Eileithyia, goddess of childbirth."

Oh Gods.

Apollo seemed to misjudge your shocked and upset expression, wincing in guilt. "I couldn't find Artemis, that's why I took so long, or I would have brought her. But Eileithyia is also an expert-"

"Apollo!" you interrupted him, staring at him wide eyed. "Please tell me you didn't bring the goddess of childbirth to my- you can't, that's too much effort for just me-" Another contraction hit and you weren't able to muffle the piercing scream, your fingers burying themselves into Apollos arm so deep you were vaguely surprised he didn't bleed golden ichor.

God and goddess shared a look, with Apollo's looking like a what-on-earth-are-you-waiting-for, and Eileithyia elegantly settled at the foot of the bed, placing a hand on your bump. Her fingers drew circles as she mumbled under her breath in a language foreign to you, then she met your gaze. "Push, dear."

Despite the pain, you did as she said, hiding your face in your lover's hand where it was warm and dark and smelled of better days. It was like his hand alone drowned all other noise out, but still, you could hear him frantically ask his sister what he could do. What you didn't register was her answer, but you had a pretty good idea when the sun god leaned closer and brought his arms to cage you in and hold you close.

It was better. The pain was still greater than anything you had ever felt, but the goddesses presence eased your nerves, reassuring you, and your lovers touch soothed you even more. It gave you the strength to push, again and again, only wanting for it to be over as tears streamed down your cheeks.

Suddenly, you heard the god whisper in your ear, frantic, as if he was caught in a horrible nightmare, hallucinating. It was incoherent, but you were able to make out some of the words. "Please... no, no, no... not again.... not her, I can't take it this time, not her, please... I'll do anything, just not her..."

A new fear closed around your heart like an icy fist, not for you or the baby but for him. What would it do to him if you died? Over the last months, he had declared again and again that his love for you was different than with almost all the mortals he'd loved before, that he couldn't let you go or lose you, that he wanted to spend every second you granted him with you. And you hadn't believed him. How could you? There was nothing that made you special, nothing that would justify a god's devotion to a mere mortal like you were. But his voice in your ear sounded so genuinely and utterly terrified that you couldn't help but ask yourself if you had been wrong, had misjudged him and underestimated his love for you.

"I see the head," the goddess chimed in, interrupting Apollos feverish ramblings, and his hold on you tightened. It was as if he had just awoken from a dream and his voice got clearer as he kissed your temple and cradled you in his arms. "You hear that, sunshine? You're doing so well, you're so strong. Almost there, love, almost there." Your breaths were high-pitched and your eyes burning with tears, but you squeezed his hand and pushed, throwing your head back in another guttural cry.

And that was when you heard it. Another one's cries mixed with yours, but they were higher and undoubtedly- Eileithyia emerged from the foot of the bed, cutting the umbilical cord with one hand and holding a slimy, squirming little thing in the other arm. Apollo next to you grew uncharacteristically quiet when you reached out and the goddess placed the little bundle in your arms with a small, gracious smile. "It's a girl."

You hadn't even really thought about this moment, and for a second, a wave of anxiety hit you as you stared down, drinking in the sight of your child like the sweetest nectar. What if you didn't do it right? How should you hold her? Should you stay still or rock her in your arms? But suddenly, it didn't matter anymore because you realized the little bundle fit into your arms like a puzzle piece. You didn't even really have to do anything, or rather, your body seemed to know what to do and you let your instincts take over, rocking the little one gently in your arms.

You barely registered when the goddess left, unable to stick around. When the little girl took notice of you, her cries subsided and she blinked up at you curiously, cooing softly. "H-hi" Your voice was unstable and cracked, hoarse from all the screaming. "Hey there." With widened eyes, the little one observed you and you felt like she was looking right into your soul.

The bed creaked when Apollo moved closer, holding you up against his chest. Your daughter saw him and started crying and you let out a teary giggle at his slightly piqued expression. His eyes met yours and they were so warm, so soft, so full of love you could have drowned in them right then and there. "What do you want to call her, sunshine?"

Resting your head against his shoulder, you smiled at the little girl in your arms. She had quieted down once more, looking quite sleepy. This had been an ordeal for her just as much as you. "Phoebe," you said softly and heard Apollo sucked in his breath sharply behind you. His ragged breaths were hot against your sweat-coated skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "That's..." He was out of words, which had to be a premiere.

Another long breath. "May I?" You handed your baby to him carefully and he took her as if she was made of glass, holding her with the utmost care. His golden eyes were shining and you were pretty sure they had tears in them. Rocking her in his arms, he looked back at you. "I thought... I was so scared..." He knew that you knew what he meant, and his chest swelled with emotion when you brought your hand up to his locks and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. "I know."

Apollo handed little Phoebe back to you and grabbed a towel, cleaning her carefully and wrapping her in it before giving her back to you and kneeling at the bedside once more. As his hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, you felt the exhaustion of several hours of labour weigh your bones down. But in that moment, there was an array of female voices coming from behind the door and you heard Apollo let out an exasperated sigh next to you.

When he saw your puzzled look, he attempted to explain. "I'm afraid my frantic search for my sister hasn't gone unnoticed by anyone on Olympus- those are the muses, they wanted to be the first to see the baby." When you raised a brow, he fumbled over his words quite uncharacteristically. "They know what you mean to me. They know the second you give me confirmation, I'm going to take you up to Olympus and marry you and make you immortal."

"You are?" you interrupted, eyes widened. "Why didn't I know about that?"

"What have I been trying to tell you?" the god exclaimed truly desperate and wringing his hands. "Did you think all those promises and plays and songs and poems and operas were just for show?"

"I mean... a little," you admitted. Phoebe had fallen asleep in your arms and you were glad about that, because it meant her innocent eyes weren't going to be tainted by Apollo biting down on your shoulder in frustration and huffing something about 'obliviousness' under his breath.

"Do you really mean that?" you said and couldn't help but imagine it. Living with him, raising your daughter together with nothing keeping you apart. Not looking over your shoulder anymore, searching for him, if he was still there or had just been a beautiful dream. You had considered yourself his for months now, but what if he was yours, too?

Apollo opened his mouth to answer when the doors flew open and a group of women hurried into the room. All beautiful in a way that had you grow very conscious of the fact that you were currently a sweaty, bloody mess, all with striking smiles on their faces. The tallest of the nine saw you first and her smile widened. "How are you, m'lady?"

You had never been addressed as m'lady by any immortal and didn't really know what to answer, but you didn't have to as the nine ladies swarmed the bed, cooing about the baby in your arms.

"The second it's too much, I'll throw them out," Apollo whispered into your ear but you shook your head, giving him a smile. You had a feeling that your daughter would come out of this encounter blessed with all sorts of gifts.

☀️

Apollo had given Phoebe into the trustworthy arms of Calliope to let you rest for a while. Sitting next to you on the bed, he personally cleaned you as you were snoring peacefully. His gaze got caught on your face and he knew he wouldn't get it back anytime soon, so he set the cloth down and propped himself up on one elbow next to you, observing the slight movement of your lips, the flutter of your lashes, the rising and falling of your chest.

He could see it all, even without prophetic powers. You, in a wedding gown, moving into his palace, being his wife, his lady, his queen. Raising your daughter, teaching her how to play the lyre. How would it be to no longer look over his shoulder in paranoia, if you were still there, hadn't been snatched away or stolen from him or- The god let out a long sigh.

When you mumbled something in your sleep, he couldn't help the smile taking over his lips. How could you have been so oblivious as to think he would just leave? Surely, the third romantic opera he wrote for you must've convinced you? Did you even know that you had become his only muse, the person his whole body of art revolved around?

In that moment, he swore to himself to never stop trying to convince you. Eventually, you would have to believe him. After all, you had all the time in the world.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[apricot-blossomss]

If you're still accepting requests would you be willing to do Hermes with fem!reader who has body image issues? Like not feeling like she's worthy of him or will hold his attention? I LOVED the way you wrote the last one of him stealing all of reader's stuff; no pressure tho if you don't want to do this subject. Thanks for your time! 💜🐝

☛ hermes x mortal! fem! reader with body image issues

☛ sfw; cw: body image issues, self deprecating thoughts, anxiety

It felt utterly unreal. The temples and palaces, shining in a golden hue, the impossibly delicious food and, most of all, the guests of the party. Was it a wise decision to have your first time on Olympus be visiting a divine festival? No. Were you utterly overwhelmed by everything here? Yes. Definitely.

A hand found yours and you turned around, startled, only to find Hermes smiling at you. His hair was uncharacteristically orderly, bronze curls framing his face carefully, not as disheveled as usual, after a day of work and flying around. "Hey sweetheart, enjoying yourself?" You nodded and hoped your smile didn't seem too forced. And it was beautiful here, just too much for your poor mortal eyes to comprehend.

It wasn't only gods attending the festival. When you looked over the crowd, you spotted centaurs, nymphs and satyrs as well, and even a few mortals like you, if you were seeing correctly. But the majority of the guests were major and minor gods and goddesses, though in their human form, still almost too beautiful to look at. Like Hermes in the beginning. But during the last months, you had seen him almost every day, and could at least look at him without having an an aneurysm- or a body image crisis.

Hermes squeezed your hand and you looked up at him. The excited grin he gave you had you a little worried. It was the grin of cream smeared in your face when eating cake and several items disappearing in strange correlation to his frequent visits. The god leaned down to your height - even in his human form, he was still a lot taller than you. "Wanna meet my family?"

No, gods, please, no.

"Uhm," you said, unconsciously fiddling with his fingers which always calmed you down. But he knew that, too. Hermes caught your restless fingers and brought them to his lips to press a light kiss onto them. "You don't have to. We can just stay here, if you want. All your call, baby."

Having lost the ability to fiddle with his fingers, you chewed on your bottom lip. When you looked back at him, your voice was thin and full of doubt. "I don't get- I mean, why would you want to introduce me to your family?"

The god's smile widened even further and he pecked the tip of your nose affectionately. "I want to show my amazing girlfriend off, obviously." You wanted to glare at him for messing with you, but he looked so earnest that you couldn't help but believe him. Instead, you let out a small and only slightly bitter laugh. "Show me off? Have you ever even looked at me, Hermes?"

"Plenty," he hummed, covering your cheeks and temple with kisses. "Why would I not look at my stunning girlfriend?" Embarrassingly, you realized that quite a few bystanders were giving you stares and whispers. Not him, he was a god. You. Probably wondering if the god's newest fling really was the ugliest girl at the party.

"'M not," you whispered, because you suspected some of these people had an excellent hearing beyond the limits of your mortal one. You put your hand over Hermes lips, but he only peppered your palm with kisses, moving up your arm to the ticklish spot and you giggled involuntarily. The triumphant smile he gave you was so utterly endearing you would have jumped him. If you weren't here.

"Please?" How were you supposed to say no to those eyes?

"Fine," you sighed, already regretting your decision. But Hermes was ecstatic, throwing an arm around you and guiding you through the crowd that made way for him wherever he walked. You tried to keep your head down and seem as invisible as possible, which, fortunately, wasn't that hard if you were standing next to a glowing diety.

"Brother!" someone called, someone the crowd made way for just as quickly, if not hastier, than Hermes. Your lover held you a bit more tightly but gave you a reassuring smile when a young man, decked out in gold that couldn't compare to the color of his shoulder-length locks, approached you. He ruffled Hermes' hair and then, his gaze wandered down to you. At first, he seemed surprised, no doubt because he was underwhelmed by your appearance, but the next second, he gave you a blinding smile. "And who do we have here?"

Hermes introduced you and then him as Apollo. The god huffed. "Do I really need an introduction? If so, I can give it for myself." You were a little unnerved by his smile, if was too bright, almost hurting your eyes. "I'm Apollo, god of all things beautiful and helpful to you mortals and thus, your favored diety."

"Spot's taken," Hermes said but he was grinning. With one look at your stressed glances, he leaned down to whisper: "he's harmless" You highly doubted that.

"So," the god drawled while looking you up and down. You were extremely uncomfortable. "You are the reason I've barely gotten a glance of my brother these last months." You were? Glancing at Hermes, you tried to think of the right answer. "Um... sorry"

"Where have you been hiding, Hermes?" a female voice called from behind and when you looked at the approaching you, your stomach dropped. It had to be Aphrodite, it had to be. Out of all the indescribably beautiful guests, she was the most striking and perfect. And the one you had dreaded seeing the most. You weren't stupid. You knew you were on the brink of spiraling into an abyss of body-hatred, and you were scared she would push you into it.

When she greeted Hermes, not even registering your presence, you suddenly remembered that they had had a kid together at some point, which only made your anxiety worse. You felt so utterly unworthy of Hermes in between all these gods that you wanted to carefully slip your hand out of his. Who were you to be holding a gods hand after all? But, realizing your intentions, Hermes only gripped it tighter. "Aphrodite, this is my girlfriend."

The way his voice was overflowing with boasting pride did warm your heart a little- until you saw the way Aphrodite looked at you. Surprised, at first, then undeniably sceptical. Her rose eyes looked you up and down and you started sweating under the weight of her gaze. Should you have worn something different? Was it ridiculous of you to be showing up in a dress this beautiful, attempting and failing miserably to be pretty? You were nothing but ugly and desperate and pathetic.

The goddess greeted you and you greeted back quietly, your flight instincts kicking in. "Hermes?" He turned to you, smiling brightly, but it faded a little when he saw the distress in your eyes. "I'm- I'm a little hungry, can I bring you something from the buffet?" Hungry. Great. Couldn't you think of a better way to get out of this situation? Not daring to look at the goddess, you kept your eyes fixated on Hermes who was searching your face for hints of what was wrong.

"Sure," he then said and leaned down to peck your cheek. "That cake looked fantastic." You were thinking more like drowning in misery.

Giving everyone a small smile and goodbye without looking at either of them, you slipped away as fast as possible. Getting to the buffet was way harder without Hermes, because the crowd got more and more dense, so you gave up and opted to break from it, finding a bench somewhere with less people. The buffet had never been your objective in the first place.

You couldn't cry. Not here. Not surrounded by the most beautiful women you had ever seen. Your gaze wandered over stunning nymphs and glowing goddesses with their perfect bodies and perfect smiles, looking so graceful in their flowing dresses. Why were you here? If you had been able to shed your skin right now, you would have. You would still be hideous, but not comparable to these women who you shrank next to.

Why were you here? How could Hermes endure your presence, knowing he could have so much more beautiful women instead, women who didn't get anxiety from parties and rudely ran away from him and his family. Women who laughed, and danced, and made other people laugh. Who were so much fun and so much more worthy than you. You were a nothing. A miserable, ugly nothing.

"Sweetheart?"

You didn't want to look at him. Instead, you opted to fix your gaze on a particularly stunning lady wearing blue. You felt longing well up inside of you. If you could only have her body, her face, her smile, her flowing hair. Maybe you could love yourself. Maybe Hermes could love you.

"The crowd by the buffet was to dense, I couldn't get through," you said quietly, not sure if he was still there. He was. Hermes sat down on the bench next to you and there you sat in silence for a few minutes. When you finally glanced over, you were surprised to find him fiddling with his fingers in his lap. Was he nervous? Did he want to break up with you?

"I'm sorry," you said. "Back with your family... that was so rude of me."

"What's wrong?" he asked and you were surprised at how worried he sounded. Finally, you looked at his face and his pleading eyes and your heart roared. Now you had made him worried. A great girlfriend you were. "Please," he said, getting a hold of your hands and leaning down to eye level. "Tell me. I want to help, but I'm not Apollo, I don't just look at someone and instantly know what they're feeling."

"It's nothing," you said quietly. "Just a bit nervous, I guess." He didn't say anything, and you realized he was waiting for you to elaborate. When you looked at him and saw the helpless look in his eyes, you felt yourself breaking and hid your face in your hands. "How can you even look at me?"

"What?" He sounded completely perplexed.

"I'm hideous!" you sobbed, stubbornly hiding your face away because you felt your hands dampened by tears. "I'm ugly and unattractive and unworthy and even attempting to be anything but that is an insult to all the beautiful women here. And I don't get why you are here with me, why you are with me after all, I mean- why would you do this to yourself? I'm not worthy of you, I-" Your rambling was interrupted by a desperate and tearful gasp for air but you hid your face away stubbornly.

"What?" His voice sounded thin and utterly confused. Then, you felt his hands on your wrists, softly prying them away from your tear-dampened face. You didn't have it in you to fight them.

"Listen... You are... better at this than me," the god said with a nervous chuckle. "Remember the time I was so exhausted I fell out of the window? And you ran me a bath and you made me get in and you... listened to my endless tired ramblings and laughed at my stupid jokes so hard the soap slipped out of your hands and hit me in the face? And then, you... made me go to bed and tell you what was really stressing me out and you just knew what to say. Like, the exact words to make me feel better. And I still don't get how."

Hermes breathed in through his mouth, fidgety but hopeful at the fact that you hadn't interrupted him yet. "Do you remember that hiking trip? I was wearing you out, it was probably too much for you, but you were so determined to get to the top in time for the sunset. And we did and you were so full of wonder. And sure, the view was amazing, but I couldn't look away from you because- I just couldn't. And I had planned to throw you off the edge and catch you a few meters down but I couldn't bring myself to do anything because you were so in awe and so beautiful-"

"I'm not," you said. "Have you even looked at-"

"Sweetheart, my eyes are in perfect shape," Hermes interrupted you firmly. "Yours aren't, because, apparently, you can't see just how beautiful you are. And how good you feel. How fun it is with you. Do you know why I am always so out of breath when I knock at your window? Because every second of the day I want to spend with you, all the time I possibly can, because it feels so right to be with you. So I rush and I show up gasping and sweating at your door and it always feels like coming home."

You were stunned. Could you believe him? How could you not? Hermes seemed to sense your conflict and you felt him slump against you. "Do you have any idea how many times my father has scolded me in the past months for being late to my duties? I don't care if you think you aren't enough. You've always been enough for me. You're more than that. You are in all of my dreams, always on my mind when I'm away."

He caught his breath. This was hard, but he had to convince you of the honesty of his feelings towards you, and he had to get all that crap out of your head. "I'm a god, why would I be with you if I didn't want to be, if I thought I could do better?"

"You can!"

"No, I can't!" he pressed, almost shouting. "No one makes me feel the way you do. Don't you see? You hold me in the palm of your hand, I'm yours!"

With widened and tearful eyes, you stared at him and his gaze softened. "May I?" You nodded, unsure what he was asking exactly. Hermes pulled you into his arms and you couldn't help but feel so loved when he held you tight.

"Can we leave?" you asked quietly and felt him laugh shakily against your shoulder. "Yes, let's get out of here."

Reluctantly, he pulled away and made you look at him. "Would you please believe me that I love you? Because I don't know what else to do. Do you want my shoes? My gardens? My palace? All my temples? I'd give them all to you, if you would just believe me."

"I think I might need a little while to get it," you sniffled quietly and in full earnestness. "I'm a little stuck here." You managed a small laugh.

The god looked at you with such tenderness you felt yourself blushing under his gaze. "Then I'll remind you every day until you believe me how beautiful you are."

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[apricot-blossomss]

hi im inlove with ur eros!!! could i trouble you to write more eros x goddess!reader pls? 😭

☛ goddess!reader caressing eros' wings

☛ fluff, sfw, suggestive towards the end, short

eros' breaths were so light you wouldn't have heard them if it weren't for the deafening silence in his room and your proximity. from where you had rested your head against the silky pillow, mere inches from his divine face, you could see every pore, every dip, every single one of his long lashes. laying perfectly still, you knew you couldn't move, even though something sharp was pricking your bare thigh. it was only when eros adjusted his arms around your middle in his sleep that you could pull it out from under you.

you blushed when you held the object in your hands. it was a single white feather and you could recount the exact moment it had disassembled from the remaining plumage last night. fascinated, you let one finger run over the vane and it seemed to tremble under your soft touch.

you had never touched eros' wings before. it felt weirdly intimate, sacred even. but that had not stopped you from dreaming about it, trying to envision it. when he held you in his arms up in the air where he liked to playfully tease you, hundreds of feet above the ground, you couldn't help but admire them, watch, how the softer ones were moved by the breeze. in intimate moments such as last night, you were always carefully avoiding them, scared to hurt them accidentally.

propping your head up on your hand, you watched eros' sleeping face intently. would he mind if you just tried to feel his wings? he had never said anything about it. you would be careful, too! breath quivering with excitement, you let your fingers ghost over your lover's shoulders, lower to his back and stop just right next to the spot where the majestic wings grew from his back. studying his sleeping face, you found no trace of tension or discomfort, so you let your fingers ghost over the spot.

eros jolted lightly in his sleep and you quickly pulled your hands back in order to not disrupt his peaceful slumber. and they would have stayed back if it hadn't been for the almost inaudible whine that left your lover's lips. his eyelids fluttered but stayed close, only his voice, perfectly soft but muffled from drowsiness, reached out to you. "don't stop." your face grew hot.

not entirely sure if it was what he truly wanted or if you had misheard, you let the tips of your fingers ghost over the edge of his wings. a sigh of content left his pink lips and a light shudder rippled over the feathers like a wave. "hmm," the god hummed and you took that as a sign to get a little more daring. next, you let the palm of your hand run over the expanse of his wings, drew lines along the single feathers, watched fascinated as the little baby feathers fluttered when met with your breath.

to ease your slightly uncomfortable position, you shuffled closer to him if that was even possible with the way he held you. you concentrated on his left wing with your caresses and eros encouraged you by lazily dragging it over so it was draped ontop of your entwined figures. admiring the sight before you, you gently rubbed your hand over the back of his wing and earned a little sigh from him. "they are beautiful," you whispered amazed as the wing shifted slightly under your touch.

"of course they are," eros muffled cockily into the pillow and you could hear the playful grin in his voice.

after a few minutes of gently caressing the tip and middle parts of his left wing, you moved to the base when you were startled by the utterly erotic groan coming from your lover. his arms tightened around you and his breath was hot against your neck. "go on, love."

"did you just get horny from that?" you asked, alarmed, and eros propped his head up enough to give you a deadpan look. taking it as the confirmation it was, you snorted surprised and lightly slapped his chest. "why would you get horny from that?"

eros seemed offended as he used his grip on your waist to roll you over so that he hovered over your body, barely covered by the sheets, with his wings forming a protective cocoon. a sly grin took over his face. "well, what did you expect, darling? I'm the god of horniness."

"you are impossible," you giggled and slapped his chest, and he gave you that boyish grin he had you obsessed with.

impossibly soft lips came down to kiss up your jaw to your ear. "did you have sweet dreams?" his hot breath against your earlobe made you shudder embarrassingly and he laughed. gods, why did everything he did and said have to be so seductive?

"y-yes." you cursed the light tremble in your voice. thankfully, your stomach growled loudly so you had an excuse to stop looking at the widening grin on your lover's face. "looks like I'm hungry. i'm making some pancakes, are you hungry too?"

"so hungry, my love," he sighed and you rolled your eyes when he buried his face in the crook of your neck. eros whined when you sat up, shook off his greedy arms and rose to your feet.

"pancakes before sex," you stated firmly, looking back at him to find him posed particularly sexily on the bed. He puckered his lips at you and crooked his head.

"come one. I'm sure there is a way to combine the two?"

[apricot-blossomss]

Hey. I LOVE what you've been writing for Apollo. Could I request something preferably gn but up to you?

Something about a devotee of Athena and Ares' lover? Like they were a wonderful fighter, got spotted and gained Athena's favour (I was kinka thinking like Odysseus). I just thought the idea of one of Athena's heroes loving her rival

☛ athena's devotee! gn! reader having a secret love affair with ares

☛ sfw, fluff & angst, first oneshot for ares!

Peace had never really been an option for you. From a young age, your life had been marked by chaos, violence and war- all things you were good at. Maybe that was the reason meditation or calmly going into yourself just didn't work for you. Thus, you were making the training puppets the victims of your pent up frustration.

Being a hero of Athena had its blessings and curses, and you walked on the fine balance between the two. Hacking at the props blindly, your mind wandered to one of the more ambiguous side effects of your position- though it was all but inherent. But if you hadn't been a chosen devotee of Athena, you would have certainly never caught the eye of another god who had all but holy intentions.

Suddenly, one of the figures you were attacking parried and you ripped your eyes open, just in time to dodge a hit by your opponent and get a closer look at him. The initial shock turned into excitement as you deflected a blow and evaded the sword of the mighty god of war himself. With a new rush of adrenaline in tow, you ducked and attacked his flank. Effortlessly, his sword arm shot down, and he took advantage of your short moment of hesitation and his physical superiority to disarm you and make you unable to retrieve your weapon- or steal his, your speciality- by pulling you into his chest and locking you in.

With a mirth in your eyes that made him crazy every time, you smiled up at him. "We have to stop meeting like this, or I'll win again."

"Ts," he made and his dark baritone vibrated against your body, since he still held you snugly against his broad chest. "Only because I let you win." He released you, and in complete contrast to the brutal swing of his sword, his touch was now very gentle as he set you down. You appreciated it, because it was rare that anyone had a little gentleness for you.

"Whatever you want to tell yourself," you grin and saw him mirror your expression. The god bent down to get your sword off the ground and wordlessly handed it back to you. You took it and wrapped your smaller hand around his as you walked over to the shed where you kept your weapons. He let you take him there without any resistance.

Even after all these months, holding your hand was still a strange feeling to the god. Not only that it was so much smaller, it was so soft, and yet had the same small cuts and bruises as his. Not that Ares had ever been good at reflecting on, much less expressing his feelings, but he did know that holding your hand felt good.

"Rough day?," you asked, and he wondered how your eyes could still be so kind, even when looking at him, even after what your life had become.

"Rough life," he said and you laughed at his poor attempt of a joke. He resorted to what he could do best, aside from fighting: he frowned in response. Because he didn't want to let you see how your little laugh had his chest swell with- something. Something warm, something good.

"So, what do we do about that?" you asked and your peppy optimism made him chuckle. He did know one thing: life was hell for the both of you. Only he frowned, and you enthusiastically pulled him away from the fighting grounds to savor the little time you two had with each other at a more peaceful place- and yes, you were aware of the irony of that.

At a secluded spot on the beach, you rested in the shadow of a tree and put a head on his shoulder. With him, you were always the one to make the first move. In touching and kissing because Ares was very unsure of himself when it came to affection, in fighting because he was too sure of himself. You snuggled closer to him and he got the message and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "Ares?"

A low hum was all you got in response. "Did you... did you tell Lady Athena about us?"

"No," he said curtly and looked down at you. His fiery eyes were somehow more calming than the quiet sea, or the soft wind. There had to be something wrong with you, that you could lie in the hands of destruction and feel more content than you would any other place. "Why?"

Chewing on your bottom lip, you looked back out onto the ocean, with its gentle, rippling waves, and wished you could parve a way through them to make them feel like you felt. Divided. "She asked me whether there was someone- someone more important to me than her."

"Am I?"

Shocked, you turned around and slapped him across the neck which only made him smile in amusement. "Gods, you're just as bad as her! Why does it always have to be a 'more' or a 'most' with you both?"

Ares gave you an apologetical smile and caught your hand, just to guide it into his locks, a rare show of initiating contact. "It always is with us. I'm sorry you're caught in between that."

"I love you both," you said stubbornly and caressed his scalp, making him groan in delight and rest his head on your shoulder. "Why can't I just love you both?" He didn't answer that question, and you were glad he didn't. Because the topic had turned awfully negative, you smiled down at him cheerily. "Well, at least it's exciting, all that sneaking around and hiding. Like a stealth mission with an unusually lovable partner."

"I'm not," he said, eyes closed and savoring your warm touch. "I'm not lovable. You are." It wasn't flirting, but maybe as close to it as he could.

"If you aren't lovable, what am I doing here?" you asked, making him look at you and hovering just over his lips in a silent challenge for him to close the gap between you.

"No idea," he whispered, something he rarely did, and leaned up to kiss you. Weirdly enough, Ares kisses were shy in the beginning, and as soon as you made them more, he exploded into a fervor of spit and passion and clashing teeth as if he had been constraining himself for too long. You knew why, he didn't have to tell you. Or rather: he did tell you, in the way he held your hands, your body, the back of your neck as he responded to you deepening the kiss with a series of passionate kisses, capturing your lips as if in a haze of fury.

It was you who broke away- never him, always you. Looking up into his restless eyes, in your own little world with him, breathing each other's breaths, you let your smile be, and he his frown. Just looking, just feeling, just thinking about each other and not sharing your thoughts because you trusted und knew each other enough.

"Being divided isn't so bad, you know?" you said and brushed his raven black hair out of his eyes, one of which being adorned by a vertical scar. "I'd be less whole, if I was- whole, you know?"

"I'm not good with your philosophical monologues," he said gently and pulled you closer, but you knew he understood, even if he didn't know he did.

🗡️

"Brother."

The last thing Ares wanted to talk to as he was drowning in the oh so sweet memories of last night was his tight-lipped sister and rival Athena. Still, he took notice of her by looking up from the attack he was overseeing on earth. He was surprised to find her not decked in her usual armor but dressed in a simple, functional tunic.

"May I sit?"

Grumbling under his breath and nodding, the god redirected his eyes to the battle down on earth. He had a good idea what she wanted from him, but he wasn't going to give it up. That she was the goddess of strategy didn't change the fact that Ares, too, understood the subtext here. The tunic meant a deal, a draw, that, if Athena had her wish, would result in her making him leave you.

He knew how she would do it, because he knew her. She wouldn't outright say it, she would break him down bit by bit, telling him he was not fit, he was going to cause you harm, that you deserved better. But it wouldn't work. Not because he knew it was wrong- it wasn't. But because, at heart, he was a selfish man. He loved you unconditionally, but as long as you didn't strike against him with the attempt to do harm, he would not leave you. And even then, he would never stop loving you, not ever. That he knew.

"They are not going to win, you know?" Athena said quietly as she seated herself beside him, nodding down to the battlefield.

"I know." Silence. "They will wreck unrepairable damage to their enemy, though." He felt Athena's grey eyes on him, but he didn't return their frown. His gaze had wandered- it had never been wholly focused on the fight in the first place. There you were. He spotted you, cooking dinner in your cabin for yourself. Always a bit more than necessary, in case he would come. He had been planning to.

"Is that what you're trying to do to me?" his sister asked him sharply and Ares' head shot around at the remark.

"This isn't about you"

"Of course it's about me." Athena let out a short, dry laugh. "It's about me and your pride. But they don't have anything to do with this. Leave them out of this fight, do not use them against me."

Ares had been wrong, and it felt like a gut punch. His sister didn't even allow him the grace to assume he could love you. Of course. He was just a bloodthirsty monster after all, unable to love, only lust and kill. Because he didn't know how else to say it, and because the heat bubbling in his chest threatened to explode into violent rage, he told her. "I love them."

"No, you don't," Athena hissed. "If you would, you would leave them alone. You are selfish and lustful, and you want to corner me, but it won't work."

"Are you trying to lecture me about love?" Ares scoffed, having a hard time containing his anger. "About selfishness? You are so self-centered, you can't even see- you can't-" He was raging now, which was always a bad move against Athena.

"They deserve better than you," she said coldly. "They deserve a gentle, loving spouse who will grow old with them and be there for them."

"Yes," the god confirmed. "But they chose me. Respect that, sister," he growled as his troops retreated and rose to his feet, uninterested in continuing the conversation. Athena was uncharacteristically quiet when he stormed off.

🗡️

The door slammed so hard against the wall that you jumped, even though you instinctively knew who it was. Not even a second later, strong arms closed around you from behind as you felt his chest heave against your back. His raspy voice next to your ear. "Kiss me or I'm gonna break something."

"What's wrong?" you breathed as you turned around in his arms and found yourself face to face with pure, unfiltered rage. His grip on you only tightened as if he was barely holding himself together. For a moment you were unable to breathe at all as you looked into his eyes.

With a long groan, his lips clashed with yours. In the heated kiss, you could feel all his pent up frustration, all his anger and fury. It was amazing. You kissed him back, standing on your toes for better access, and he hoisted you up onto the counter effortlessly. "Don't- fuck- don't look at me," he mumbled in between kisses.

Instead of an answer, you brought your hands into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. His wandered to your waist as his lips travelled down your neck, biting and marking like a man possessed. Moaning out a curse, you reluctantly pulled away from him. "Ares- if she sees the marks-"

"She knows," he muttered darkly, continuing his ministrations as you felt your lungs constrict. Unable to think about the consequences of this as he was covering your neck and collarbone in marks and bruises, you let his rough hands slip under your shirt, kneading your waist. Ares cursed when you pulled at the roots of his hair and you could feel his hot breath caressing your ear. "You're mine, right? You love me?"

"Y-yeah," you chocked out as he nibbled at the base of your throat. "I'm yours, I love you." The only answer you got was a guttural groan. Suddenly, you felt the tension leave his body as he slumped into you, hiding his face in the marked up crook of your neck. His arms encircled you as he caught his breath slowly. How fast had he sprinted to get to you?

You released your grip on his dark locks and opted to brushing through them gently. With a low hum, you let him catch his breath and cool his anger, curling into your body, as you caressed his hair and shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes"

The answer surprised you. As he looked up from your neck, you could see that the fiery storm in his eyes had calmed slightly. For a second, he looked really tired, before his signature frown adorned his face once more. "But not here. Not now."

You nodded and pecked the tip of his nose. "I'll draw you a bath, alright?" Only reluctantly, he let you go and when you slipped through the door, he propped up his head on his hands, rubbing his temples. They deserve better than you. Yes, you did. But he knew he couldn't give this up: your kisses, your hands caressing his hair, your understanding eyes and soothing voice that called out for him from the bath.

The tub was still a little too hot, but that was exactly what he needed. Laying down in the warm water, he looked up at you with your shining eyes and breathtaking smile. How could he be the god? You were divine.

Running a sponge over his shoulders softly, your hands traced his many scars and he felt himself grow self-conscious under your observant eyes. "I'm not... beautiful," he said into the silence, in lack of a better term. Surprised, you looked up at him and frowned. "Yes you are. Have you seen yourself?"

He didn't answer, so you leaned down, put your arms around his soaked, naked shoulders and ran your lips up and down his scars. Your hair grew moist as you rested your head on his shoulder, intertwining your hands with his. "You are the most beautiful man I know. Inside and out."

Ares couldn't believe you, but the words still felt nice, as did your touch, so he only leaned into it, sighing into the relief you offered his restless soul.

They deserve better than you.

He tried to drown out the words and only concentrate on you. If he could, he would write you elaborate declarations, but that wasn't his thing, so he only kissed your temple softly and closed his eyes, knowing he was safe with you now, for however long that may be.

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[apricot-blossomss]

hihi!! may i please request an apollo x reader where he pleads for them to take them back after a minor argument, and apollo, in the heat of the moment and feeling petty, breaks up with reader

☛ apollo broke up with you over a stupid argument and begs you to take him back

☛ sfw, angsty, fluffy ending; tw: self deprecating thoughts; thank you for 100 followers!

He messed up. Badly.

His hand shook over the paper but he couldn't think of another verse. Or rather: there were so many swirling around in his mind, expressing regret, loathing himself, worshipping you and asking for forgiveness, that he couldn't find one to write down. With a frustrated groan, he buried his head in his hands.

"Lord Apollo?"

"Hm?" He said, begrudgingly looking up from his miserable laments and at the Muse Clio. She, as well as her sisters, had free access to the god's sacred gardens, though he would have preferred solitude right now. And he could not bear her pitiful looks, even though it was Clio's standard expression.

"I was sent by your high father," she said and came closer to the bench were the god had sprawled out all the heartbreak and breakup songs he had written in the last forty-eight hours.

"Sit," he said without putting away his pen. Instead, he started writing, but even though his words would have brought the highest poets to shame over the mediocrity of their verses, it still didn't feel enough for you. If he wanted to get you back, he'd have to do it properly, with the most masterful piece he had ever written.

Clio sat down on the small part of the bench that wasn't covered in music and lyric sheets, letting her eyes scan over them. Jeez. Whoever you were, you had to have done quite the number on the god. When she looked at him, he was feverishly scribbling on a fresh paper, looking like a madman. "Your father," she began carefully. "urges you to leave these gardens to tend to your godly duties."

"Tell him to shove his urges up his ass," Apollo grumbled and earned a skeptical look. "Come on. I'm sure you'll find a nice way of expressing the same sentiment."

"I have another message, from your sister," she added and he grimaced, a bitter feeling at the back of his throat. "Tell her I won't have her mockery." The muse fell silent, sad, worried eyes tracing his features.

"You can leave now," the god said in a monotone voice and without another word, Clio was gone. As so often in the last fort-eight hours, Apollo felt the tears sting in his eyes once more and leaned back to drape an arm over his face. But the darkness only brought the image of the fight back.

How could he have been so stupid, so hurtful and petty? It was an argument about a fucking a/c unit. It hadn't even been an argument initially. Just harmless banter, until he had overstepped and said something hurtful. And when you snapped back, he had felt hurt and lashed out. Stupid. He was so stupid. The whole thing started spiraling out of control until he had shouted back the fateful words.

"If you can't take a joke, maybe we're not right for each other"

The guilt ate him up from the inside. The image of your widened, teary eyes was burned into his brain, he saw it every time he closed his eyes, and every time he did, his heart squeezed so painfully that he wished someone would take mercy on him and shoot him with his own arrow. And no ink in the world would draw the pain out. Only one thing could- you.

You scrubbed aggressively at your kitchen sink, even though it really was not to blame for your current situation. "Stupid," you muttered to yourself as you forcefully scoured at a stain at the side of the sink. But it wouldn't wash away a bit. "Fucking thing," you muttered, scrubbing even harder. Finally, you gave up and took a deep breath through your nose. "Fucking shit"

Your doorbell rang and you ignored it. Like the last two days, you would self isolate and obsessively clean your house- that was how you coped with having the most stupid, petty idiot of a god as a boyfriend- now ex-boyfriend. The thought stung. And even more so, because as much as you would like to pretend it was, this wasn't all on him. The bell rung again, and you sighed, throwing your towel in the sink and opening the door with a little more vigor the necessary.

"Can I help y-" The words died on your tongue. Cool, silver eyes had you forgetting how to articulate a single word as the woman in front of you looked you up and down. She was gorgeous, in a wild way. Dark hair braided and of truly majestic posture, in a flowing dress and a bow over her shoulder. You felt your whole being shiver at the sheer might of her presence- something you only felt with Apollo, only that it felt much warmer and exciting with him. Your mouth knew before your brain registered her appearance. "Lady Artemis"

"You," she said, and the tone of her voice had you stiffen up, as if she had shouted. Her scrutinizing stare had you sweat and you dug your fingers into the palms of your hands nervously. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Th-thank you," you stammered, too panicked to think of anything else to say. Was she here to take revenge on you? Apollo would never allow that, that you were sure of. But who knew whether they cooperated?

"Your appearance doesn't live up to your reputation," she said coldly, but it didn't sound like an insult. The goddess studied your expression and sighed, a hint of exhaustion in her tone. "It must be something else about you then. Something that warrants this level of drama."

"I was hardly the one who started it," you bit back and regretted the words the second they left your mouth. Biting down on your tongue, you winced at your stupidity. "Please forgive me, that was out of line." Great. Insulting her brother in front of Artemis was surely the best move.

"He thinks the same." You looked up at her and were surprised to find her smiling a very slim smile. "You should see him, he's an absolute mess, drowning in his guilt."

"Oh," you said, without a hint of worry or remorse. Instead, you felt a sense of relief. He cared. He felt guilty. He was drowning in his misery. Artemis lifted her brow at your neutral expression and you shrugged. "It's nice to be appreciated."

"You are appreciated, alright," the goddess said under her breath as she remembered the tortured sappy breakup songs her brother had been bothering everyone with. Sickeningly enough, he was really good at those, so everyone was getting depressed. Even though Artemis tended to spend her time away from Olympus, she herself could feel the effects of this misery. And she was sure many gods would breathe a sigh of relief once the whole mess was settled.

"Look," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she was having a migraine, which of course wasn't possible for gods. "Can you just take him back, mortal? He's awfully broken up and making everyone miserable."

"I'm not asking him to take me back," you said stubbornly. You may have had your part in the argument, but he was the one who ended things and your pride didn't allow for you to crawl back to him. "If he wants me back, he can tell me himself, I'm very sorry."

There was a short but noticeable silence. Then: "I understand." The goddess smiled. You were starting to live up to her expectations. "But he's just as stubborn as you and he won't get his ass down here until he has crafted 'the perfect song' to ask for your forgiveness." The thought did make your insides flutter. "How about a deal? I'll take you to my temple and make him fix this on the spot."

Not daring to refuse the proposal, you nodded and her hand got a hold of your upper arm. "Close your eyes" Instinctively, you followed her instructions. Even though you felt nothing, not even a hush of air, when you opened your eyes, you were in the most magnificent hall you had ever seen. Marble all around, with a high, open ceiling and trees invading it through the windows. A mix of ancient monument and forest.

When you turned around to ask the goddess whether this was Olympus, she was gone. You were alone, as small as an ant between the towering walls. They were so monumental it was almost claustrophobic- or rather, the opposite. Just as terrifying. The space made you feel tiny and insignificant and with those feelings came an unexpected dread:

What if he didn't want you back?

Why would he? He was a god, he could have his pick of hundreds of millions of people, people that were prettier than you, smarter than you, more exciting than you. It was like the walls were threatening to crumble, your breathing picked up and you tried to breathe through your mouth slowly, but not getting enough air only accelerated your sudden panic. What if he came in here and told you to go, that he didn't need you, didn't want you? That you couldn't even take a joke and you shouldn't be with one another? The scrutinizing look in her eyes as Artemis had looked you up and down was burned into your memory. Your appearance doesn't live up to your reputation.

He wrote you songs, you tried to remind yourself. He was being petty, that why he broke things off. Artemis says he regrets it, she said he wants you back. But you couldn't believe it- not really, no matter how often you tried to tell it to yourself. He wants you. But why would he? He loves you. Why you? There was no clock in the temple, of course, but it had been some time already . Would he even show up?

The tall stone doors were opened with such force they met the walls in a loud bang. Flinching hard, you shot around and saw him standing there, in between the doors that were creaking in protest of being handled with such force. You met his eyes and in that moment you knew you had already forgiven him. If a gods eyes could be bloodshot, his were. His usually effortlessly perfect hair was disheveled and his hands covered in ink. They hung powerlessly at his sides, as if they didn't know what else but the door to use their strength on. He looked like shit, and you felt love swell in your chest.

But you couldn't let him know. Pressing your hands to your hips, you lifted your chin. "I knew you'd come back" Liar "I just wouldn't have thought it would be this quickly," you said, sounding much more self assured than you had ever been in your life, much less now.

The god walked towards you, as if he were dream walking, raising a hand like he was about to caress your cheeks but slumped down in front of you instead, kneeling before you on the marble floor. "I am a fool."

"Yes," you said, nodding and gulping down the burning in the corners of your eyes. Because you couldn't stand the self loathing in his features, you studied a blooming cherry tree that was waving through one of the tall windows. When you felt hands on your hips, your own hands shot down but when they met his, your fingers curled around his and he let out a long breath.

"I am such a stupid, stupid moron," he emphasized and you finally managed to look down at him. The genuine regret in his eyes took your breath right out of your lungs. "Please... my love..." His hands closed around your smaller ones and he brought them to his face to put his head in his hands. You let him. "Please, forgive me. I was so stupid, please, take me back. Love?"

"Hm?"

"I'm so so sorry"

Not trusting your voice, you started caressing his cheeks and he sighed into your ministrations, kissing the palm of your hand softly. Teary eyes shone up at you and you looked back. Just when you opened your mouth to formulate an answer, he tightened his hold on you, while simultaneously reaching behind himself to grab a stack of scribbled-on paper out of nowhere and pushing it into your hands. "I tried to make the perfect one for you, but I failed. I'm sorry, my love."

As you read through the words, your heart started beating loudly in your chest. In disbelief, you read them through as the god still clung to your body. "Are these ... about me?" you whispered as your eyes skimmed over words of adoration and love, of appreciation and utter devotion, of little things you did that you had never noticed, or you had thought mundane- but he hadn't.

"Yes," he breathed. He didn't make a sound when he rose to his feet, though still hunched over in shame. His warm hands massaged your waist as they were carefully scanning your expression for your reaction. "Do you like them?" You had to like them, or he would lock himself in tarterus and throw away the key.

"I-" you stammered, voice hoarse. All your doubts, all your anxiety of being good enough... as you read through the words, they slowly erased them bit by bit. Your fingers were shaking so hard the paper trembled in your hands and you could feel the tears well up in your eyes. "Love?" He sounded worried, and you had to make yourself look up from the beautiful words to smile at him. "Yes, I like them. They're beautiful."

Thank god. "I'll make it all up to you, I swear," he said gravely, taking your face into his hands. "I will compose and sing operas to your magnificence, I will grant you every wish, I will never make you cry again, I promise"

"You just did," you laughed through your tears and pressed the stack of paper to your chest. "Can I uh- can I keep them?"

"Of course, silly. They are yours," he hummed, looking into your eyes with a look in his eyes you couldn't quite place. Maybe longing. Desperation. "Please, my love, take me back and I shall never make you suffer again."

"Alright," you said, smiling up at him and wiping away the saltine wetness on your cheeks. "And- I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, you didn't mean it like that and I was just being stupid and overthinking and- I'm sorry."

Vehemently, Apollo shook his head and shushed down your apologies. "No no no, love, this was on me, just on me. I hurt you, I made you cry and I ... I can't get that out of my head." His voice sounded strained.

"Apollo?" Now, it was his eyes threatening to overflow with tears. "Why did you come back?" He looked at you as if you had just said the most bewildering thing ever. "I mean... you could have just left me. But you didn't." A small, bitter laugh escaped you. "I lied, you know? I didn't know if you would come back, I thought you might just not care that much."

"How could you ever think that?" he asked, as if he really couldn't believe it, and you laughed. "Because I hate myself?" It was meant to be a joke, but your puffy eyes and sniffs didn't do a lot of convincing on that end, you feared. The pained look in his eyes almost made you cry again, not even for your sake, but for his, because how could someone look this tortured and not break apart.

"You are the most amazing woman- the most amazing person- I have ever had the privilege of loving," he confesses. "I love you."

The genuinity in his words took your breath away, and you didn't get a chance to get it back because his lips crashed onto yours in a heated, desperate attempt to convince you of his words. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you kissed him back feverishly as relief flooded your whole body and you started relaxing in his arms. He could feel you slumping against him and chuckled into your heated kiss, angling your head just right for him to deepen the kiss, holding you securely and dipping you down. You giggled, fully entrusting him with yourself, and he smiled through the kiss.

"You are divine," he groaned, placing kiss after kiss on your swollen lips and you laughed lightly before the way of it was swallowed by his loving ministrations. "Says the literal god."

"APOLLO!"

Flinching, you broke away from the kiss just enough to see a very pissed off Artemis standing in the doors of her temple and glaring at her brother who frowned right back. "You're interrupting, sister."

"You are in my temple! How dare you do this in my temple you little shit?" When she whipped her head around to you, you buried your fingers in Apollo's tunic, already seeing your life flashing before your eyes, but against all expectations, she gave you a genuine smile. "If you don't want to take him back, I might still have a spot for you under my followers, you could join my huntresses, dear."

"That is a very gracious offer, but I fear I have to decline it, I'm sorry," you apologized and she tutted, though she didn't seem resentful.

"Ha!" Apollo grinned and she smacked him. He let her, grinning boyishly and hositing you up into his arms. You didn't protest, you were too dazzled by his unbelievably bright smile that had your heart explode into a thousand bubbles that popped all over your stomach, tingling. "Love, how do you feel about getting out of here?"

Waving at Artemis, you couldn't help your own smile. "Bye! And thank you, my lady!" She gave you a small smile and exchanged a look with Apollo that was more firm. Smiling at her, he glanced down at you and tightened his hold. "I know."

"Go!" his sister told him, shoving his shoulder, and in the flash of a second, you were surrounded by trees and flowers and sweet smells. A garden. Unmistakably divine, because no mortal place could be of such beauty.

Apollo set you down on a golden bench and sat down himself, pulling you into his warm arms. A long sigh left your mouth as you smiled at him, at his beauty, his smile, his shiny eyes. It felt so intimate, the way he was smiling back and pressed a kiss to your temple, huffing out a warm breath against your skin that was slowly warmed up by the sun. "Where are we?" you finally asked.

"My gardens," he answered, caressing your face with trails of sweet kisses. "Do you like them?" You nodded, admiring the colors as he was worshipping your face with his lips.

"Do you want to have them?"

"What?" you laughed, turning to look at him and fully convinced that he must be making a joke. But the expression on his face was undoubtedly honest. "N-no thanks," you mumbled and rested your hand on his shoulder. Your fingers interlaced with his.

"Do you know what Artemis told me before she happened to mention you were waiting for me at her temple?" Shaking your head, you started playing with his fingers when his captured your ring finger and his lips ghosted over your ear in a way that had you shiver in spite of the warmth of his sunny gardens. "She told me if I wanted you back forever, and if I loved you as much as I said, I should just put a ring on it."

"What?" you laughed instinctively, because you had built a wall around the topic for the both of you. What you had with Apollo wasn't permanent- it couldn't be, because you weren't permanent. What was he even talking about?

"I mean it," he said, so earnestly that the laughter died on your tongue. He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed his lips to your knuckles, your ring finger. "I would drag myself through eternal suffering for a life you. If you preferred a mortal life, I'd leave Olympus for you. I would kill anyone who hurt you, anyone ever made you feel small. I'd do everything for you, and I don't want to regret anything more."

Breathlessly, you searched his features for deception. "Apollo... you had thousands of lovers before me. Why me?"

He looked thoughtful and absentmindedly drew circles on your thigh. "You're right. I have loved plenty, and I have loved deeply every time. But even though it was genuine, it was never long, and that always worked for me, in some way." You felt the caress of his adoring eyes on you as you stared at your hands, trying to process his words. "It wouldn't work with you, never. And I would never be okay with it. I want you forever- or at least for as long as possible, as long as you want to."

There was a downside to dating Apollo, and it was the fact that your stammered confession and your attempts at wooing him with loving words crippled pathetically next to his flawless love poetry, his sure words and articulation. You really didn't know how to possibly give him an answer, other than leaning up and kissing him, as gently as the summer breeze, and thinking: if you could have this forever, what more could you need?

When you broke the sweet little kiss, you couldn't suppress a giggle and he raised an eyebrow at you. "It's just..." you grimaced. "I can't believe we broke up over an a/c unit."

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[apricot-blossomss]

screaming crying throwing up apollo has me ILL

Same 😔, wish he was here to heal me...

[apricot-blossomss]

Hey there! Hope youre doing well! Ive been missing your writing for a while ngl 🥹🥲 but how are you? I hope youre getting some rest, water, food, and good good sleep <33

Don't worry, you won't have to wait for much longer! And thank you, I'm doing well and I'm working on the sleep part 😅