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[lqhey]

( GOLDEN GIRL ) ethan nakamura pt.2

ethan nakamura x apollo!fem!reader

part one , the backstory

! - part two , the betrayal

part three , the balance of the scales

( this is an excerpt from a fic turned into a few posts with an oc turned x reader hence specific description and jett, another oc. )

in which reader shows up at the palace to try and stop the resurrection of kronos, but her shock at seeing ethan stuns her, getting her captured.

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ETHAN'S BODY LURCHED FORWARD YET again, constricting as he hovered over the toilet bowl and emptied his insides. He had knelt on the cold marble of the foyer for what felt like hours, sickness wracking his frame in endless torment. 

He had never meant this. He had never meant for you to show up. Why did you have to show up? He couldn't allow himself to care ─ they were too far into the war for him to crumble now. He had brought back Kronos; he had been the one to hold an honour everyone else on their side could only dream of.

So why was he in so much pain?

The pot that held the content of his stomach had once held some form of flower; Ethan didn't bother taking a good look before he shoved his head in there and puked. He figured he was doing the place a favour ─  flowers had no place in a fortress like this. He was wiping out the beauty that stuck out sorely, desecrating it with his own heartache and guilt. He wipes his forehead with a heavy hand, a light layer of sweat dotting the skin above his eye patch. 

Footsteps fell against the floor, the sound echoing through the chamber and off of the walls. "If the girl is too much of a distraction, we can have her killed." 

Ethan raised his head once it had stilled, turning to meet the amused eyes of  Iapetus. The titan stepped forward once more, inches away now from where Ethan lay resting against the flowerpot he had filled with vomit. Iapetus pulled a face looking inside, stepping back almost immediately in distaste. The titan cast a shadow over Ethan as he stood tall, his hair a majestic shade of silver and his eyes piercing. "A boss is only as weak as his lieutenant, mortal. The girl is valuable, but she may die if she must. If it is what it takes."

Ethan groaned, lifting his head. "Don't... touch her." 

Iapetus laughed. "Very threatening. We'll see how that holds." His foot lurched out, kicking Ethan's weak form. "Pathetic." He stood straight, now towering even more over Ethan. Ethan tried to scramble backwards, his back pressed flush against the pot as his hairs pricked up on his arms and neck. "The boss is with her right now. If she's still in one piece when he's done, you're to go down there yourself." The titan's tone turned icy. "You get her on our side, or you're done for."

Ethan's head fell as Iapetus's footsteps began to retreat, and as soon as he knew the immortal was out of sight or earshot he turned and threw up so violently he thought his remaining eye would pop right out of his head. 

What felt like an age later, he lifted his limbs up off of the marble and staggered to his feet, grabbing the wall as his vision flickered black. When he had regained composure, and the foyer stopped spinning in his peripheral, he walked back through the main throne room, trying not to gag as he saw the streak of blood below the dais that he knew belonged to you. He slipped through a small door at the back end of the chamber, and found the descending obsidian stairs that led deep down to the 'dungeon'; that being what Alabaster called it. He came face to face at the bottom of the staircase with a single guard ─ the only one down here, he expected ─ another demigod. Ethan was sure he knew him, swearing him to be Ioannis; the incredibly irritating boy who had nearly been chosen for his fight in Antaeus's arena. Frankly, Ethan wished it had been him. Maybe then he would never have had to re-prove himself by presenting the scythe, and you wouldn't have been taken hostage by the first complete psychopath in creation. Ioannis was short for his age; what Ethan assumed to be around fifteen, maybe sixteen. He had a messy array of long, below shoulder length brown hairs on his head, and an upturned mouth that Ethan hated for it's permanent smirk.

"She's all yours." Ioannis said smugly, a grin lining his lips. "Is it true you guys are exes? I heard she's more anti-Olympian than we are. Man, I can't wait to see the look on those campers when─" 

"Shut up, Ioannis." Ethan grumbled, shoving the boy with his shoulder as he walked past. He heard Ioannis spluttering behind him as he walked on, and he rolled his eyes in response. Man, that guy was irritating. Ethan was sure they'd placed him as guard down there because he was such a repellent for any creature with ears. 

He progressed further, through the heavy set double doors made of ─ you guessed it ─ obsidian. Would it kill them to have a feature wall? Ethan considered a nice tone of orange. Too close to home, actually. You loved orange. Ethan winced at the thought. 

There was only one cell in use. The room was circular, with doors lining the wall all arranged around the centre of the chamber ─ a stature of Kronos, captured holding his scythe aloft in victory as he stood atop the body of Ouranos, a depiction of the titan lord' first murder gig. Very poetic.

The cell was easy to determine, since the gap underneath showed the inside glowing. It was faint, but Ethan naturally recognised the hue of your distress. Who's complicated ex didn't glow golden when she was kidnapped? 

He approached the door, getting about two feet away before the overwhelming sickness returned. There was no flowerpot here, and Ethan didn't think his first defining action as the future cosmos ruler's right hand man should be upchucking all over his statue. He slowly brought his palm up to the door, his heart pounding in his chest harder than he thought it ever had. By this time, you had become aware of a presence outside the door. You didn't call out; simply waited for an indication of identity.

"B─" Ethan choked. "Bug?"

Your heart stopped. Your stomach twisted violently, and she let out a blended sound between a quiet gasp and a cry. 

Ethan took another breath in. "I─" he urged himself to continue. "Can I come in? I just ...  I just wanna talk. Please?" He pressed his forehead against the door, cursing his luck. 

"No." You said softly. You weren't sure youercomposure, that you'd kept all through the conversation with Kronos, could handle seeing your boy again. Not under these circumstances.

"Okay. I'll stay here. I just─ I'm so sorry, Bug." Ethan's voice trailed to a murmur. "I never meant for any of this to happen." He was sure his eye was moistening now. "I cant stop. I can't. Please don't ask me to." His tone was desperate, he was pleading with you.

"Why?"

Ethan was startled at this. "What?" He asked. He heard you sigh inside the cell.

"Why did you join them, Ethan?" You felt your voice break in your throat, the words choking up in their delivery. You too were pleading with him. You were sure nobody could hear the two of you, since the only guard was the idiot by the stairs, and Kronos had wanted full privacy for his own discussion with you. You figured he also knew you were no threat to his lieutenant ─ you could never hurt him. You wouldn't. You hated that they could use your own heart against you. 

Ethan felt a sob growing in his chest. He forced it down. He was older now. You couldn't prise him open like you used to, not anymore. "I thought you'd understand. The gods are your enemy now. They cast you down to punish your own father, and what did he ever do to help you out of the mess he made? Cheat on your mom? He ruined her life too!" He was angry now. Angry at the gods, angrier than before somehow. Not at you. Never at you. But he was angry that you weren't, after all Olympus had put you through. "I grew up. I saw things for what they were." He kept going. "I slept on the floor for years. I prayed every night to a god who's name I didn't know. I lived with siblings that weren't mine, goddamnit. I had nobody, damnit."

"Nobody?" Your voice was a dangerous whisper. "You had nobody?" You were glad you hadn't let him inside now, he couldn't see you shaking with white hot anger. 

"I had you." The anger stopped. Ethan's hand slid down the door, squeaking awfully as it moved. His forehead was still flush against the door, but the tears had begun to spill from his single right eye.

"So why wasn't that enough? Why did you leave camp, Ethan? Why did you leave me? I loved you, Ethan. You knew that. We were kids ─ I didn't expect anything from you, and you ran. You always run. I didn't need you to love me back. I just needed you to be there, to stay." You replied desperately. You had long since come to terms with the fact that your first love had been forever gone, and now here you were, pouring your heart out to him as you knelt on the other side of a cell that held you captive. "You left me, E. And now you're not even you. I'll never get you back." 

Your voice was barely a whisper now. Ethan felt his heart tumble through his chest and out, spilling forward onto the cold floor as he listened to your gentle sadness empty from your heart.

Ethan looked around, as if confirming there was nobody there. He breathed in, his crying almost audible in his voice as he spoke only to the girl he had once cared for more than anything; more than finding out his parentage, more than making a difference. He wished now that you both still lived together at camp, happy and unburdened by this closeness to the war. 

"I loved you. The whole time. I loved you more than my body could handle." His voice broke, but he continued, tears still falling gently from his right eye. He was grateful that he couldn't see you, or he thought he'd break down. "It took over my life, Bug. It turned me inside out ─  I didn't know what to do. And I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you. To be able to say the words, like you could. I'm─" There was no hope for salvation of his composure now. 

"I'm so sorry. Please, I'm so sorry." He wiped his eye with the hand that wasn't resting against the door. The tears were forced out of his eye by his proximity to you, yes, but the guilt wasn't all your doing. He felt like he'd let down everybody who'd given him a chance, even Percy Jackson. But he couldn't stop. You wouldn't try ans stop him, either. You knew the gods, what they were like. You knew this had to happen. You also knew she had to save as many good people as you could. "I'm so scared, Bug." He whispered.

"I know." You said no more.

After an eternity of silence, Ethan stood. He opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn't sure he had words left. He turned around and began back, his footsteps ricocheting off of the walls. He was sure he heard you slump back in your cell, whether with relief or shock; to tell the truth, it had been a sort of grief you didn't know you could feel for someone still living.

But Ethan was gone. You couldn't hold on to him any longer. You had a camp full of people that hadn't betrayed you, and after talking with Kronos, you knew they were in terrible danger. There was no time to lose.

[lqhey]

( GOLDEN GIRL ) ethan nakamura

ethan nakamura x apollo!fem!reader

! - part one , the backstory

part two , the betrayal

part three, the balance of the scales

From the moment you and your twin Jett arrived at Camp Half-Blood, it was as if the sun itself had decided to walk among the demigods. You weren’t just a child of Apollo—you embodied everything he represented. Radiant, talented, and full of life, the two of you became the heart of camp almost instantly.

Your first day in the Apollo cabin set the tone for what was to come. You, with your brilliant smile and unshakable confidence, made friends as easily as breathing. Campers gravitated toward you like moths to a flame, eager to bask in your warmth. Meanwhile, Jett, quieter and more introspective, balanced you perfectly. Where you dazzled, he steadied. Where you led boldly, he offered calm wisdom.

The campers called you "the golden twins" before you even reached your first Capture the Flag game. And it wasn’t just because of your blond hair or your father’s light shining through you—it was because you made camp feel brighter, safer, and more united just by being there.

You especially had a knack for leadership. Even at eight years old, you could walk into any argument, any moment of chaos, and bring it to order with a single word or gesture. Chiron saw this right away. By the time you were 11, you had already earned your place as his assistant camp director—the youngest in Camp Half-Blood's history.

Jett, on the other hand, found his strength in quiet service. He wasn’t as commanding as you, but he didn’t need to be. The Apollo cabin looked to him as their steady rock, a leader who always had time to listen and who never let the stress of battle or prophecy shake his calm. Together, the two of you set an example that others couldn’t help but admire.

You weren’t just admired—you were loved. Your laughter rang out in the dining pavilion every night, drawing everyone in. If a camper was too nervous or homesick to eat, you’d sit beside them, chatting away until they forgot their fear. And if they needed more comfort than camp could provide, you’d take them up the hill to Calliope's old cottage.

That little cottage became a sanctuary. There, you would bake cookies, tell stories, and remind new campers that they weren’t alone. It wasn’t long before campers started calling it "Sunshine Cottage," even though Jett often joined you, helping with the baking or playing quiet tunes on his guitar to set everyone at ease.

It was at the cottage where you first met Ethan Nakamura.

Ethan was different from the others. Where most campers were timid or curious, Ethan was cold. Sharp. He stayed in the shadows, rarely speaking and never trusting anyone.

You noticed him the second he arrived. He was just a kid then, like the rest of them—maybe nine years old, but with a bitterness in his dark eyes that made him seem older. He stuck to the edges of the Hermes cabin, never joining in the chaos of stolen trinkets or pranks. When you saw him sitting alone during dinner one night, you couldn’t help yourself. In fact, from the moment you saw him, sitting with his arms crossed in the far corner of the pavilion, you were determined to crack him open. You grabbed two cookies from the table, marched over to him, and sat down.

"You're Ethan, right?"

He didn’t look at you. "What do you want?"

"To feed you, apparently. You haven't touched your plate." You handed him one of the cookies and smiled.

For a moment, Ethan just stared at it. Then, reluctantly, he took it.

"Thanks," he muttered.

From that night on, you made it your mission to break through his walls. You invited him to the cottage, sat with him at meals, and dragged him into conversations whether he liked it or not. Jett teased you endlessly for your stubbornness, but even he couldn’t deny that Ethan started to soften.

You made it your personal project to drag him—kicking and screaming if necessary—into the light. At first, Ethan resisted you with all the sharp, sarcastic bite he could muster.

But you were nothing if not relentless.

"Ethan! Hey!" you called one evening, bounding up to him with a plate of food.

"Don't you have better things to do?" he muttered, not looking up from the sword he was sharpening.

"Not really, no," you said breezily, sitting down beside him. "You're my better thing."

He groaned audibly. "Why are you like this?"

"Like what? Charming? Endearing?"

"Annoying."

"You'll come around," you said, undeterred, taking a bite of bread and grinning at him. "Everyone does." It took months, but eventually, Ethan stopped resisting. He started talking back during your banter, showing up at the cottage uninvited, and even smiling once in a while. He never fully fit in at camp, not the way you and Jett did—but with you, he didn’t have to. You made him feel like he belonged.

The other campers couldn’t believe it when, bit by bit, Ethan started showing up with you. To the dining pavilion. To the archery range. To the campfire. He didn’t smile often, and he still had that gruff, brooding air about him—but when you were around, he softened. You were like a flame, and he couldn’t help but gravitate toward your warmth, no matter how hard he tried to resist. By the time you were teenagers, the bond between you had grown into something more. It wasn’t just friendship. It wasn’t just love. It was something unspoken, a connection so deep that neither of you needed words to express it. Ethan was yours, and you were his.

The cottage was your sanctuary, your little haven where homesick campers could come for cookies, comfort, and stories. But on quiet nights, when everyone else had gone to bed, it was just for you and Ethan.

One particularly stormy evening, you lit a cluster of candles, their golden glow filling the small space as rain pelted the windows. Ethan sat on the couch, flipping through an old book you'd found on the shelves, his brow furrowed as he pretended not to notice you fussing around him.

"Ethan," you said suddenly, holding out your hand.

He didn’t look up. "Hmm?"

"Dance with me."

That made him look up. He raised an eyebrow, giving you a flat look. "What?"

"Dance with me," you repeated, smiling brightly. "It's perfect! The rain, the candles... Come on, don't be boring."

"I don't dance."

"You do now!"

He groaned, but before he could protest further, you grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. He stood stiffly, his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides as you placed his hands on your waist and took his shoulders in yours.

"This is dumb," he muttered, refusing to meet your eyes.

"You're dumb," you shot back playfully, swaying gently to an imaginary tune. "Loosen up! No one's watching. Well, except me, but I don't count."

After a few moments, Ethan finally relented, his movements relaxing as he let you guide him. The candles flickered around them, their shadows dancing on the walls. Your smile widened as you leaned back to look at him properly.

"See? This isn't so bad," you teased.

"You're insufferable."

"And you're lucky I am. Otherwise, who would get you to do fun things like this?"

He rolled his eyes but didn't pull away. Instead, he held your gaze for a moment longer, his dark eyes softening in the candlelight.

"Your eyes are pretty," you said suddenly, your voice quieter, almost like the words had slipped out without your permission.

Ethan blinked, his mouth twitching into a rare smirk. "Yeah? You want 'em?"

You burst out laughing, burying your face in his chest as he chuckled softly. The sound was rare, but you cherished it every time you heard it.

From outside the cottage, anyone watching might have thought you two were an odd pair. You, with your golden hair and unshakable brightness, looked like you belonged to the daylight itself. Ethan, with his dark hair and sharp, cynical demeanor, seemed like the opposite. And yet, together, you made perfect sense.

Around camp, the relationship was the subject of endless fascination. Everyone adored you. You were Camp Half-Blood's golden girl, the sunshine that kept everyone warm. And Ethan? Ethan was, well... Ethan.

"How did that happen?" someone asked Jett one day, gesturing to the pair of you sitting under a tree, your head resting on Ethan's shoulder while he absently toyed with your hair.

Jett grinned. "Honestly? No clue. But good luck telling her she can't have something she's set her mind on."

It baffled people that Ethan had managed to "bag" the sunshiniest person in camp, but to you, there was no mystery. You saw sides of Ethan no one else did—the way his sarcasm hid a deep loyalty, the way he always noticed when someone was struggling, even if he pretended not to care. He was sharp and strong and steady, the kind of person who kept going no matter what the world threw at him.

And Ethan? He might have never admitted it aloud, but he loved your brightness. You were everything he thought the world lacked—hope, kindness, light—and he couldn’t help but be drawn to you, even when he didn’t think he deserved you.