↬ apollo being scared of losing you as he lost all his mortal lovers
↬ hurt/comfort with a fluffy ending, warnings: fear of losing someone, mentions of sex, mentions of nightmares
he was almost too beautiful to bear in his sleep. running a gentle finger over the soft skin of his cheek, you couldn't help but be reminded of the renaissance painting figures, just as frail and untouchable. it made you sad, though you couldn't have named a specific reason for the sudden wave of melancholy that hit you. your hand travelled from his face to his neck, over his shoulders and brushed against his muscular back, but your eyes were still fixed on his face. on the golden locks that gently swayed in the light breeze, the huffing from his pink lips, his long lashes. what did gods dream about? what did your god dream about?
it was only after a few minutes that you found the strength to look away from your lover. as quietly as you could, you slipped out from under the thin covers. there was no need for heavy blankets when you could trust there would always be summer at your residence and you had your own personal heater laying next to you in bed. when your bare feet met the floor, you allowed yourself one quick look back at apollo. the sudden wish to draw him, his sleeping face, his ethereal youthfulness, his incomprehensible beauty and the sun kissed golden locks overcame you. but at the same time, you knew you would never be up to the task. no one would ever be.
you rose from the bed and tip-toed over to the closet to grab a dress to cover your naked body with. the slight wobble in your step served as a reminder of the night before and you felt heat creep up to your face merely thinking about it. you got dressed quickly and hurried out of the bedroom. normally, it was apollo who would be up first, already greeting you with a delicious breakfast and good morning kisses, ignoring your objections because of morning breath. now that you were up first for once, you decided to return the favor.
apollo had added a kitchen to his palace, just for his mortal lover. as a god, he was able to produce foods from his bare hands and ambrosia was always available to him. you being into cooking and baking had been new to him, but he happily indulged in your hobby and supported it, even by altering his own home.
as the kitchen was illuminated by the golden lights of dawn, you got to work to prepare pancakes. stirring the dough, you let your mind wander, and inevitably, it lead you back to last night. the touches of his hands, the kisses, and most importantly, the whispered promises and desperate pleas spoken in the heat of the moment. to have a god worship you like this was possibly the best thing to ever happen to your self-confidence.
just as you were preparing the stove, two warm arms closed in around you like a trap and your defenseless body was pulled back into a warm chest. after a second of panic, you recognized the smell, the breathing pattern, the touch of apollo whose strong arms had you in a tight embrace. with a shuddering breath, the god lowered his face to your neck where you could feel him breathe in your scent. entirely engulfed by his warmth, his taller figure, you had no choice but to pause what you were doing and let him consume you completely.
but immediately, you sensed that something was off. maybe it was instinct, maybe the god and you were connected on a whole other level by now, maybe it was the way his breath shuddered and heaved slightly, the way his fingers curled into your sides a little too much for your comfort. after a failed attempt of turning around to face him apollo didn't even seem to take notice of, you called out his name softly and brought a gentle hand to his face that was still buried in your neck. "love?"
begrudgingly, it seemed, apollo raised his head from your neck and allowed you to turn around in his arms. a tight smile pulled at his lips, but it was missing the radiant shining of his usual ones. he more so seemed like he was in pain and you frowned. "apollo-"
"hm, is my little wife making breakfast for me?" he asked with a forced cheerfulness. apollo loved to call you his wife, even though you weren't married since he was a god and you a mortal. the smile still didn't reach his eyes and your frown deepened. as if he could lie to you. sensing your unease, apollo leaned over comically dramatic to dip his finger into the dough. you knew it was a diversion, and he knew that you knew when you didn't even try to stop him.
"apollo, what's wrong?"
"nothing's wrong, silly," he smiled, unnervingly so, still missing the usual sparkle in his golden eyes. "or is there?" gentle, strong arms spun you back around until you were facing your dough and his head dipped once more. there was no way to suppress the goosebumps spreading over your skin when his lips brushed barely along your ear, like a breath, like a memory. "do you have an ache i can tend to my love? how about ... here?" his fingers hovered over your crotch, tips brushing against the fabric of your dress and he smirked at you mischievously like a cat cornering a mouse.
"you can't distract me with sex, my love," you said softly but with a stern undertone. taking a step back and folding your arms over your chest, you took him in completely. golden locks disheveled from slumber, chest bare and decorated with your marks and only a loincloth hiding his crotch. "what's wrong?" you asked again with a pleading tone to your voice. "talk to me, please"
a flash of pain crossed his beautiful eyes and it was such a heart wrenching sight, though just visible for a millisecond, that it knocked the breath from your lungs. "i'm fine," he whispered, but his eyes were fixed at a spot just above your brow. the answer did little to convince you, as it missed the usual extravaganza and poetry and beauty that filled every single one of the phrases that escaped the god of poetry's mouth.
almost tearing up seeing him in distress, you took a step towards him and closed your smaller fingers, still a little stuck with pancake dough, around his spotless, bigger hands. they did their best trying to warm him up. "please," you begged. "let me help you, my love"
"i'm fine," he repeated and lowered his head. you gasped in shock when he fell to his knees on the ground, still holding onto your hands. "you're fine"
now, you weren't that dense and at his words, you immediately sensed what was wrong. bringing your hands from his hands that immediately latched onto your thighs in a desperate need to ground himself, to his face to lift it up. you gave him a gentle smile. "yes, i am. very much alive and very much still human instead of vegetation"
the god let out a dry, heartbroken laugh and now the pain was on full display, twisted his beautiful features and your insides as a dull ache. his eyes wandered over your face, as if in an effort to engrave it into his memory. "you mortals are so fragile. like painted glass in a chapel. pretty, divine, easy to break, and your colors paint me, too, and your shards, they hurt me, make me bleed" his grip on your thighs tightened. "love..."
for a while, there you stood, still and composed like a marble statue. the god at your feet, holding onto your plush thighs, and you hovering over him, trying to breathe from the pain you felt when your love was hurting. "i'm sorry," you finally breathed. neither your brain nor your tongue, that were this flawed compared to your artist, could think of the fitting words, reassurances. "i never meant to- i'm sorry i- and for everyone you lost-"
"you," he whispered and you had to lower your hand a little so your flawed mortal ears could make out the words. seeming close to tears, he angled his head up to expose his eternal pain to you. "i dreamt that i lost you." his hands twitched and he held onto your thighs more tightly. "woke up and you weren't there and for a moment i knew... i just knew you would be gone too, and it would be my fault."
your fingers cradled his face as you tried to remain calm and steady for him. but gods, it was hard when seeing him like this broke your heart as well, pinched your heartstrings painfully and you had to fight the stinging in your eyes. "do you dream about that often?" you asked him softly as your fingertips grazed his cheekbones in an attempt to offer comfort.
"sometimes," he whispered.
never had you seen a god cry. apollos tears had a golden hue to them, like a river at sunset, and you couldn't help it, your vision got blurry as well. you wanted to be strong for him, you really did, but you weren't able to bear this. "forgive me, my love," apollos wept softly and even now, it still was like a melody. "forgive me"
"there is nothing to forgive, darling," you reminded him and crouched down to his level to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. "i'm okay. i'm here. and i don't intend to go anywhere anytime soon." a shaky breath, a silenced sob and he returned the embrace, engulfing your body fully. his arms had you in a tight lock, a desperate plea to keep your promise.
for a while, you just sat there on the kitchen floor. breakfast was long forgotten and, embracing each other, you watched the sun's light illuminate the room more with each passing minute. apollo's tears dried up eventually and his fingers began stroking your hair and kneading the plush of your thigh tenderly. after pressing a few kisses to your scalp, he was the first to break the silence. "would you believe me if i told you you are the best thing that ever happened to me?"
"i would find that a little hard to believe, you have lived for over a millennia after all," you smiled and his fingers drummed against your skin in response.
a thoughtful hum rumbled in his chest and his fingers played with the hem of your dress. "looks like i have to make a song to prove my point, then." there was a shift in his tone. this tone, a subtle show of his godly might, had a shiver run down your spine. "not just to you. it will be a composition so great it will stun all of olympus. a tune that will make my father himself melt. a song in exchange for your immortality, my love"
a surprised little gasp left your throat and you looked up from his chest to meet his eyes. they were determined and oh so full of love when he looked down at you, still caged in his arms. the topic of immortality had rarely come up between the two of you, and though you knew you would gladly spent the rest of your life with apollo, you didn't know wether he wanted to commit to you for eternity. too stunned to speak and not able to grasp any of the boiling feelings rumbling inside of you, you could only wrap your arms around his middle once more and hide your face in his chest as you felt the heat creep up your cheeks.
"darling, why are you hiding from me?" you could hear the grin in his teasing voice and begrudgingly looked up at him. finally, your god was smiling again, as radiant as the sun he was. "hm, you do realize i just proposed, don't you?" he asked as he tilted your chin upwards with his index finger.
"are you sure?" you blurted out and he frowned. "sure? of course I'm sure. are you not, lovely? because we can wait. i have time. until you are ready, yeah?"
"i am ready," you insisted, meeting his gaze with the same determination. "it's just... are you sure you want to keep me around for eternity?"
"keep you around?," he repeated and chuckled. seconds later, you found yourself sitting on the counter with the god standing in between your legs, his hands on your waist. "my love, my sunshine, every day for the rest of our immortal lives, i will worship you. i will forever praise the day you let me into your life, never take you for granted. i will always stay true to you and if i should ever wrong you, you may pierce me with my own arrows and throw me into the depths of tartarus."
"Now that's a marriage proposal," you joked to mask your flustered state. "How can I say no to that?" there was a sudden fire burning in his eyes, one that you knew all too well and you had the suspicion that you wouldn't get to finish the pancakes anytime soon.
Synopsis: Reader reunites with Apollo after he turns into a god again
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
Y/n sat and stared absentmindedly by the river at camp half blood. Her knees were pulled to her chest and she had a clear look of distress on her face.
~
“How long does it take for him to transform back into a god,” She asked worriedly to Artemis as she held Lester’s unconscious body. The beautiful goddess crunched her eyebrows, too afraid to tell her the truth.
“A few weeks, maybe a month,” Artemis sighed. “Maybe even a few years. One time it took 500 years for him to wake up again.”
You sat there in disbelief. 500 years? If that were to happen you’d never see him again. Hell. Even 75 years you would never see him again. You were a demigod. You lived a normal human lifespan. Your lip quivered as your hand brushed through Lester’s hair. Your eyes glossed over, your vision turned blurry. One single tear drop fell.
“So there’s a possibility I could never see him again?” You asked.
Artemis knelt down and her silver eyes pierced into yours, “I’m afraid so, and I do apologize for having to cut this short, but he needs to rest at the palace so he can possibly return sooner.” Her hand rested on your shoulder.
You nodded slowly and sadly. You bent down and placed small, meaningful kiss onto his forehead. “I love you Apollo.”
~
The memory burned through your thoughts. Oh how she missed her dorky soulmate. Everyday was filled with her staring at the sky, hoping to see a sun chariot fly down with a sun kissed god. Everyone at camp knew to not bother you about camp duties or war games. You were just so numb inside. Deep down you knew the day would come that he would turn back into a god. But both of you avoided the conversation to spare yourself of the pain.
You sat at the creek for a few hours in silence. The sounds of nature helped you. She looked one more time up at the sky and frowned. Nothing Yet. She got up and worked her way back to camp.
You heard a lot of noise as you passed the training fields. What was going on? Suddenly you saw Kayla running up to you breathless.
“Hey hey y/n!!! You need to come! Like now!!.” She said grabbing your hand. You two ran to the cabins. Demigods were huddled and surrounding something in the middle of the cabins. Kayla grinned, winked at you and ran off .
Whatever was in the middle of the demigods pushed their way through.
Her heart stopped. Time froze. Tall. Gorgeous. Bronze. His sun kissed hair waved around his perfectly sculpted face. His beautiful blue eyes were brighter than the sky. His arms chiseled and so perfect. His golden chiton wrapped amazingly around his body.
He smiled so warmingly at you, “Hello my Dear Sunshine.”
You ran and threw your self at Apollo. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Your hands wrapped around his head. You felt him instantly lift you, his arms under neath you.
“It’s you,” She breathed. Tears instantly formed. “I thought I was never going to see you again.”
You pulled back to see him grinning ear to ear. “You can never get rid of me darling.” Without even thinking you kissed him. Your hands cradled his face. And he kissed back lovingly. You continue to pepper his face with kisses. He laughed and set you down, still holding you close. You noticed all the campers had dispersed.
“I’m so happy to see you again,” You whispered.
“Oh my sweet love, you’re the greatest thing to have blessed me as my time as Lester. If I know what true love is, it’s because of you,” Apollo said. You can sense the utter admiration and love radiating off of him like.
“You are my radiant sunshine and I’m forever yours.” He leaned in kissing you again. You sighed into the kiss. Your heart pounding again. As Lester or Apollo or one and the same, you knew you’ll forever love him just in the same.
Warnings : Kissing | Mentions of prior sexual activity
Summary: Duty calls, and yet Apollo doesn’t want to leave Hyacinthus while he sleeps.
Minors DNI | 18+ | Rules and tag form here.
It was wintertime in Sparta. The air was cold, and the land lay shrouded in darkness.
But not for long. Pigeons flapped their wings noisily and cooed in nearby olive trees. My gaze went out to the window, to the sunrise. I lay awake and watched brilliant flashes of gold and yellow and orange and red spread over the horizon. The clouds were tinged with a glorious shade of pink. Helios was in a splendid mood this morning.
Hyacinthus stirred and mumbled in his sleep. Sometime during the night, one of us kicked off the pelts while we slept. I pulled Hyacinthus closer when he shivered, my eyes wandering over a body now limned with faint light. It bore the signs of last night—the things we did, all of what we did. I yearned to stay longer and lose myself in his flesh again, and again, but I could already hear father summoning me.
I could not just leave, not while Hyacinthus slept. I pressed my lips over those that were soft and tasted sweet, like new honey. My fingers brushed against his cheek. Hyacinthus stirred again, his mouth slowly opening under mine.
author’s note: apollo’s ear piercings>>> makes me wanna get more ugh
word count: 9,251
The air feels colder after it rains, but it’s also crisper, fresher, and with a deep inhale you let it fill your lungs, mentally steeling yourself for today’s hunt.
You stand at the edge of the woods, sunlight peeking through the foliage of towering trees and bugs and birds alike flittering between the thick, aged trunks. The grass is damp from a combination of raindrops and morning dew, and you know you’ll need to watch your steps particularly carefully to avoid any muddy spots, lest your feet sink in. A small gust of wind blows, ruffling your hair, braided as it always is to keep it out of your face, and you shiver. Your deep breaths are also made in an effort to acclimate yourself to the lower temperature. You refrained from wearing a cloak despite the chill because you knew it’d only impair your ability to use your bow properly. Though the longer you stand in place, the more you’re beginning to regret that decision. So before you can get the chance to regret it even more, you slide down the small incline and venture into the forest.
Last night the rain had been heavy, and you watch out for fallen leaves and branches, taking care to walk around them. It’s always quiet here, but especially so in the mornings, and any misstep would alert the wildlife to your presence. The birds are singing, a complement to the peace of the early hours, and serve to help you feel less alone as you traipse along. You try to identify the species to whom each unique call belongs, testing what you learned from Alexios during the days you’d agreed to let him accompany you on hunts. Studying birds had become one of his favorite pastimes, and he delighted in sharing with you what he read and applying his knowledge.
There’s a melody, high-pitched and staccato, and you think hard about what Alexios had shared, about the distinct tones. You then hazard a guess, and your attention is pulled to a small bird that perches on a branch of a tree you’re passing. It opens its mouth to sing, and you smile, having found your guess to be correct. It seems you’re getting the hang of this.
Your birdwatching is interrupted by the ruffling of leaves, and you freeze, gaze lowering to scan the surrounding area. You listen closely to determine the direction the noise had come from, and the moment you hear it again, you establish the way you need to go.
You move slowly to remain as quiet as possible, following the sound of pattering on soil and the snapping of twigs. It doesn’t move very far and you’re able to close the distance, ducking behind a bush when you catch a glimpse of fur. Once you’re hidden, you peek around, eyes settling immediately on the sand-colored rabbit sniffing at a plant. As it begins to take a bite of the leaves, you carefully reach for your bow.
The birds chirping help provide some cover, but it’s not perfect because you’re much closer, and any noise you make will stand out. You begin to pull your bow from over your shoulder but pause when the rabbit does, its ears lowering. Had it heard you? It lays flat on the ground then, and you figure it must have; it’s getting ready to flee if it hears anything else.
You hold your breath to keep silent and manage to get your bow and an arrow without the rabbit noticing. As you nock the arrow and take aim, you exhale, then take another deep breath, holding it again to remain steady. You only have one attempt to catch the rabbit here. Otherwise, you’ll have to chase it or search for another animal.
The string of your bow is at maximum tension, pulled back as far as it can go, and your fingers unwrap from around the arrow, letting it fly. You can swear it almost whistles through the air before it hits your target. It’s a clean shot, and now you allow yourself to relax, letting out a sigh and emerging from your hiding place to retrieve your catch.
You pull out the arrow to return to your quiver and tuck the rabbit into your rucksack. You’re not quite done hunting yet, for one rabbit isn’t enough for you and your family. You’ll need to keep searching, but luckily, there’s ample time yet until noon, when you’re expected back to assist your mother around the house.
Slinging your rucksack on, you stand back up straight. The sun is at an angle to shine down through the trees, its rays bright and brilliant. It’s just the warmth you need, and you stay in this spot briefly, basking in it with closed eyes. See, you think to yourself, the cloak would’ve been unnecessary. You’ve got the sun to keep you warm after all.
With your eyes shut, your hearing is extra sharp, and at the sound of more rustling, you’re kicked into action. You’ve pinpointed the direction more quickly this time, and you proceed to track your next target. You try to walk along the ground the sun touches, feeling its heat spread over your back. Please continue to keep me warm, you murmur. It feels nice on cold mornings like these. It’s a playful request because of course the sun can’t hear you, but you like to pretend it can, and that you’re in its good graces, that it should indulge you and kiss your skin so gently.
The silly thought makes you smile, and it rests comfortably on your lips as you navigate your way between the pines.
***
This morning is a morning like any other, nondescript and quiet. The thick blanket of clouds beneath the expanse of Olympus is parting as the rumble of rainstorms fades to welcome a clear sky. Colors always appear more vivid after the rain: a bluer sky, greener trees and grass. Every drop breathes new life into the earth, invigorating then magnifying it. Fewer sights are better than this, and that’s why Apollo finds himself tarrying in the courtyard.
He allows his mind to empty as he absentmindedly gazes down below, watching the world awaken, freshly cleansed and ready for a new day. The air up here is crisper as well and he breathes it in deeply. This would always be one delight he shared with mortals.
After lingering a while longer, he’s poised to take his leave and proceed with his day, but a curt prayer reaches his ears and stops him short. To hear prayers isn’t unusual, and he hears them often, but this particular one grabs his attention for a short list of reasons. One, that it hadn’t been addressed to him explicitly, but to the sun. It’s this that tips him off to the fact it must not be anything serious, no heartfelt plea for blessing but something muttered distractedly to fill the air, but he hears it all the same, and, if anything, is amused by it. Two, and perhaps—no, not perhaps, definitely—the more important point, is that the sound of the voice is distinct, melodious, enough to pull him in, wanting to hear more.
So, rather than leave, he leans against the stone railing and scans the earth far below, listening for that voice again and searching for its owner, whose sweet song has graced his ears so sweetly on a morning that’s quickly taking a turn, no longer a morning just like any other. Where might you be, little bird…
There in the woods, he finds you. Bow in hand and rucksack on your shoulders, clearly in the midst of hunting. It’s simple to surmise that you’re doing your best to walk beneath the sun, and he can’t contain his smile. With each of your deliberate steps he grows more interested in observing you, and if the other gods notice how long he has been here, head leaning on a propped up hand and eyes drawn downwards, they don’t say anything or attempt to interrupt.
The birds that fly above your head are poor competition and while he wishes you would speak more, you don’t, but he understands since your current task requires silence. Though when you shoot down a deer, you let out a quiet exclamation of victory, and you might as well have shot him instead, for his heart seems to beat that much harder in reaction to your voice. Not only is the sky bluer and the foliage greener following the rain, but the cheeks of fair maidens are redder too, as evident by your own. They’re flushed, for you did have to go on a bit of a chase for that deer, but it’s charming in its own right, especially when joined by your satisfied smile. Apollo wonders if, should he lay his hand tenderly on your cheek, the heat of them might rival the sun he governs. He wonders if you’d allow him to sate his curiosity.
Much as he’d like to stay here watching you for the rest of the day, he can’t, and he reluctantly backs away from the railing. His every footstep takes him away from you physically, away from the sight of you, but mentally, you’re in the forefront of his mind in the passing hours. How hadn’t he noticed you sooner? He scolds himself for being careless, that he should miss something so remarkable as you for as long as he had.
Perhaps it might be argued that the gods are kept busy by the whole picture, presiding over the world as a whole, rarely afforded the chance to study the details. But to Apollo it makes little difference because with the discovery of you, with your fanciful wish for the sun to be at your back as you hunt and your voice soft as the plucked strings of a lyre, he is learning that sometimes, the real masterpieces are in the margins of a painting: well hidden but rewarding to find, so that upon picking it out, suddenly life is seen through a fresher pair of eyes, enlightened, and prepared for other secrets behind the canvas or in the painter’s brush.
Morning bleeds into afternoon and afternoon into night, and when the stars are strung across a dark sky, Apollo returns to his spot in the courtyard to search for you. He didn’t want to sleep until he saw you one more time.
You’re at home, your mother preparing for dinner the animals you’d caught earlier. In the mean time, you converse with a young boy. You talk about the birds you heard while hunting, and how you managed to guess their unique calls correctly.
“You’re a wonderful teacher, Alexios,” you compliment, and Apollo thinks about how he wants to hear you say his own name.
Alexios smiles widely. Then, there’s a mischievous glint in his eye. “I must be. If I could teach you, then I could teach anybody.”
At the playful jab, you lightly shove at his shoulder. “I’m a good student!” you defend yourself. “I just get distracted easily.”
“You’re like the sheep father tends to.”
You laugh, bright and melodic. It’s the only music Apollo needs. He’s of the opinion you’d be better suited in Olympus. Your dulcet tones and the delicate planes of your face are the essence of the divine and otherworldly, but he speculates you’ve been placed on earth to grace your fellow mortals with a piece of the heavens, your existence a reminder of the higher powers that be and the beauty they take care to form.
However, Apollo has no qualms in admitting he’s selfish, because for all of that, he’d still prefer you to be here and to keep you for himself. Thoughts of you lull him to sleep this evening, and, at least in this way, he can feel closer to you.
In the following days, he begins planning how best to approach you. To watch from a distance could only satisfy him for so long; he’s yearning for more. Lately, he’d taken to standing at the edge of the courtyard when he needed to think, since from here, he could also watch you, and during one such instance of this, he’s joined by another.
“You’ve been awfully quiet.”
Apollo blinks and glances to his right. Ares is walking over, in full armor and a helmet tucked beneath his arm. He must’ve just returned from training at the arena.
“Have I?” Apollo asks, but he already knows the answer.
“What’s got you so lost in your head?” Ares reaches out, intent to poke at Apollo’s forehead, but Apollo steps back and swats his hand away.
There would be no point in lying. Ares would see through it. Not that Apollo cares to lie. He has nothing to hide. “There’s a girl.”
Ares hums in understanding. “Ah.”
Apollo turns back to study you. Currently, you’re at the market with Alexios and have stopped at a fruit stand. “I want to meet her soon.”
“Is something stopping you?”
“No, no…” Apollo trails off and stays quiet briefly, already becoming distracted. But Ares detects he’s not finished speaking yet and waits. “I just want to figure out how to go about it is all.”
Ares raises a brow. “You’ve never cared about that before.”
At first, Apollo doesn’t think much of this remark, that it’s not worth noting, but upon further consideration he realizes it is rather unusual for him to take into account the how of a first meeting, and not simply appear before you the moment you’re alone. That’d always been standard procedure for him, and the question this raises in him is surely the same as what’s raised in Ares but that he doesn’t share aloud: why now?
Apollo likes to watch you in your natural environment, likes to watch you be, well, you. After all, it’s what had grabbed his attention to begin with, witnessing you in a scenario you’re comfortable in because of its familiarity, to the point you move through the forest with precision, clearly knowing it as well as the back of your own hand. He wants to interact with that part of you and observe up close the one who offers frivolous prayers to the sun as a mere aside, paying no mind to the gods who might actually be listening. Your desire is for the warmth to wash over you on cold mornings and Apollo would fight to keep the skies cloudless forever so that as long as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, your prayer will always be answered.
If he were to appear to you in his form as it is now, as a god in his full glory, it would ruin everything. You’d be taken off guard, startled, unsure how to act in his presence, and he doesn’t want that. It leaves him with the present dilemma, but he thinks he might have come up with something that will work…
Finally, he sighs, and humors Ares with a response. “You’re right. I guess I haven’t.”
***
For some reason, the animals elude you today. Your ears are sharp and well trained, so you’re certain it can’t be that you’ve missed any telltale cues of one in the area. The woods are quiet, and they feel empty. If you have anything to say about it, it’s a little bit disconcerting.
Eventually you settle against a tree trunk for a short break, laying your bow and empty rucksack next to you. With you sitting, now you don’t even hear the crunching leaves beneath your sandals, and your eyes rove over the immediate surroundings. Nothing rustles, disturbed by creatures who are exceptionally well hidden. Where are they, any of them?
Perhaps you’re just unlucky this time? Returning home empty-handed didn’t matter too much; it was always possible to buy meat at the market. You just preferred to hunt for game yourself because of the thrill it gives and the accomplishment you feel being able to provide for your family in this way. As such, you don’t want to give up yet. After you’re done resting, you’ll continue. Like always, the only rule you have to abide by is to be home by noon.
There’s a stir in the bushes to your left, the leaves jostling, and you sit up quickly. Slowly you grab your bow, fingers wrapped around the grip, and gingerly you pick it up from the dirt and lift yourself to stand. You don’t walk in the direction of the bushes immediately. Your vantage point would be no better since whatever animal is here, it’s well-concealed, and even if you could spot it through the branches, your arrow couldn’t reach. Instead you wait to see if it starts to move out into the open.
Bow in one hand and arrow in the other, you’re prepared to take aim as soon as you spot your target. You just have to hope it doesn’t notice you first and take off into a run. The animal hiding is beginning to move, for the leaves rustle more, and you nock the arrow.
A red fox emerges, golden eyes trained on you as if it had already known you were there. But if that were the case, you’re confused as to why it hasn’t run away. Your arrow’s still knocked, though it’s pointing at the ground, and you stare at each other for one, two, three beats of silence, and this fox’s unwavering gaze leads you to believe thats something is wrong.
No, not wrong, but definitely out of the ordinary. The fox isn’t afraid, and you can’t bring yourself to stare it down from the sight window of your bow, not when it’s unlike any other fox you’ve encountered, so you relax the tension of the string, removing your arrow and returning both hands to your sides.
The fox moves first, walking towards you, and you’re frozen in place. It feels like a dream, being approached like this by a wild animal who means no harm. You wonder if it might speak to you, a conduit for the gods to impart wisdom, but what they could possibly want to say to you, you haven’t the faintest idea. You’re hardly remarkable, not as well-versed in matters of the divine as the priests of the temple. Has this situation come about as a result of opportunity? To be out in the forest by yourself, there’s little chance for interruption. And with the quietness here, so far from the polis, there’s also little chance for misinterpretation, should the gods truly have something important to share.
The fox now stands right in front of you, its bright eyes blinking, vulnerable but comfortable. You decide to follow its lead, crouching down and setting your bow and arrow on the ground. It’s close enough that you can reach out for it, and cautiously you do, extending an arm to gently run your hand along its red fur. It doesn’t shy away, and as the seconds tick away, you find yourself feeling more comfortable as well. You’re still well aware of the peculiarity of the position you’re in, petting a wild animal so casually, and maybe the gods really are poised to talk to you.
However, the fox is silent as you greet it with a murmured greeting, only continuing to stare up at you. You continue talking, no room to feel embarrassed to converse with a wild animal when it’s already strange to be petting it with ease, and you’re only partly pretending that it can understand because with the way it watches you, you can swear it understands your every word.
“Why are you here?” you inquire, voice hushed. “I suppose you saw a friendly face and wanted to say hello.”
You scratch the fox behind the ear and it nudges its head into your hand, enjoying the sensation, and you chuckle. “Well I’m glad you thought me worthy of your time.”
And your time with it, it would seem, is drawing to a close, because the fox backs up, out of your reach. You watch it with a smile pulling at the corner of your lips and you stand. Lifting a hand to give a little wave, you expect it to turn around and proceed with its own day, concealing itself within the bushes again. And while the fox does turn around and walk away, what surprises you is that it pauses and looks back over at you.
You tilt your head. It’s a very deliberate glance, for it stays where it is, still staring. Was it trying to communicate? Had you been correct after all, that this fox could understand you and had something to share? You stand motionless, ruminating on these thoughts, but the fox continues looking at you, no attempts made to leave… at least not alone. And you know that it could no longer be denied. This fox is trying to say something: it wants you to follow.
Grabbing your bow and rucksack and covering the short distance to the fox, who, satisfied that you’re trailing close behind, proceeds with walking ahead, you reason that there are worse things to be following through the woods. You’ve heard the stories of divine beings interacting with mortals, manifesting in some form to offer guidance, but never did you think you’d be one of them. You can’t help trying to guess what guidance this fox has to offer even if the best course of action right now is just to wait. If it’s leading you somewhere, there’s a destination, and whenever you arrive, you’ll have your answer.
Distracted as you are with watching the fox, you don’t notice the tree root sticking out from the earth, and your foot gets caught on it. You yelp, falling forward, and your hands slide against the leaves as you catch yourself. But then there’s another disturbance, the rustling of more leaves which you’re certain isn’t your doing, and you squash the pained groan you almost let out from scraping your knees in order to listen for any more movements.
Has your run of bad luck finally ended? You’d pushed aside your original task of hunting for game when the fox approached, but now that there’s potentially a rabbit or a deer to track, you’re conflicted as to what to do. And as you’re wont to do in situations like these, you imagine what your mother might say. She’d tell you it’s fine not to go after whatever you’ve heard because the gods aren’t to be ignored, and there would always be other animals on other days. Yes, that’s what she would say yet you still struggle decide.
Your eyes slide from staring in the direction you’d heard the disturbance, down to the fox, who’s paused again, waiting patiently. You know that your urge to track whatever animal is out there doesn’t have to do with the sense of duty to bring home food for dinner, for a trip to the market is no issue. It’s your passion for hunting, the calls of the wild which pull at you. Perhaps it may be ridiculous that the urge is so strong as to compete with the chance to commune with the gods in such a tangible way, foolish even, in the eyes of many, but you would never be ashamed of it. Still…
With a huff, you stand up and brush yourself off. If only to sate your curiosity, you reason, taking wide strides to catch up to the fox.
The two of you don’t walk for much longer, but as you do, you hear the jostling again, of a wild animal sniffing at bushes in search of food. And with every step, you realize the sounds are getting louder.
Finally, the fox stops behind the trunk of a large tree, and you come up behind it, crouching down. Why have you brought me here? You think it but don’t ask it out loud, and you don’t have to because you peak around the trunk and find the answer: there’s a deer in the wide clearing, munching on berries it pulls away from a bush. You duck back around and look at the fox in surprise. It had led you to the animal you heard earlier? The fox sits down, looking up at you with its golden eyes, its job done.
You smile. Sometimes what the gods share with mortals is profound, wisdom only coming from the ones who call Olympus home, and other times they simply share a helping hand.
You’re not about to let the opportunity go to waste. Drawing an arrow and nocking it on your bow, you take aim.
***
One meeting is hardly adequate for Apollo. The moment he’d interacted with you, he knew he wanted more.
He thinks about what you’d said, how you thanked him for deciding you to be worthy of his time. And how could you not be? It was a different experience entirely to observe you up close, to see the confusion on your face upon his arrival but then the softening of it as you relaxed and welcomed him, even for how atypical the whole affair was, to get so close to a fox. You understood it to mean something even if you couldn’t say what, and when prompted to follow, you did so.
There had been that momentary struggle when you heard the deer, unsure whether to break away or continue to follow him. He doesn’t fault you for the indecision. If anything, it helped him to better understand the love you harbor for the hunt, and he’s of the opinion that such passion should always be encouraged. He’d been leading you to the deer to begin with, but you didn’t know that, and even so, you pushed aside your desire to track the deer yourself to continue following him, acknowledging that where he might lead you had nothing to do with an animal to catch but being okay with it.
The tone of your voice had been so soft, like petals trailing along skin as one lays in a flower field on a warm day, and your eyes were gentle. He would like you to continue watching him in that way, perhaps on a quiet night, a dark one, when the stars are clear and brilliant so that he can promise you that he would scoop them from the sky and fashion them into a crown for you should you ask. Or if not that, he would gladly rearrange them to form a picture of you, a constellation made of only the brightest, to immortalize you in the heavens.
He sighs with longing he doesn’t bother to hide. His eyes slide closed and all he sees in his mind is you. Always you. He needs to see you again soon, to quell the ache in his chest.
The next time he does meet you, he assumes not the form of a fox, but of a human. He wants the chance to actually speak to you. In the early hours of a clear day, he roams the forest, in the areas you tend to frequent. There’s no worry of running into other people on accident. You tend to only be the one hunting this deeply into the woods.
He hears the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, and he turns just in time to see you walk around a tree and into view. Once you spot him, you stop, surprised to find you’re not alone. You hesitate to say anything at first, confusion apparent in your gaze, but you brush it aside as you offer a polite grin.
“I didn’t expect to see anyone out here,” you say.
Apollo chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, feigning sheepishness. “I came here to think and got so lost in my thoughts that, well…” He spreads his arms wide, referring to your surroundings. “I wandered further than I realized.”
You grin widens, and you relax a little more now. “I don’t blame you. The forest is a perfect place to find some peace and quiet.”
Apollo smiles too. “Yes, it really is.”
When you ask for his name, he tells you it’s Loukas. You repeat it, to be sure you heard him correctly, and it’s not as satisfying as he knows it would be to hear you say his real name, but it would have to do for now. Then you say Well it’s nice to meet you, Loukas and it’s heartfelt, yours smile amiable and extending a hand of friendship, should he want that. And yes, he does, very much so, and more still—as much as you’re willing to give.
You ask him questions about himself and he makes up information on the spot, but in an effort to avoid having to conjure up too detailed a backstory, and because he doesn’t want the focus to be on him, for you’re who he wants to learn about, he turns the tables on you and asks about you. It’s surface level, things he already knew by observing you from Olympus—your family and what they do, why you’re out in the forest early in the morning.
But what he gleans from conversing with you goes beyond that. You care for your family deeply, wanting to be a good daughter and older sister. You just want them to be happy, and anything you could do to make it possible, you would do. Hunting began as something practical, done to provide, but you’d grown to love it, energized by the cold air filling your lungs and the rush of blood through your veins when you’re set on a chase. Life for you is generally quiet, but in the forest, with your bow and arrow, it can be livelier, if only for a little while.
Apollo listens with rapt attention as your life unfolds before him and your eyes sparkle from the light of the sun overhead, but he’s more inclined to believe instead that they shine from the stars tucked away within you. Your soul is the essence of another universe and he’d like to live there, Olympus a distant memory but it wouldn’t matter to him, so long as you’re together.
He’d quickly been lost in his musings about you, the life he’d like to live with you, but he’s pulled from it at the mention of a fox and your quiet laugh of disbelief as you recount what a unique encounter it had been.
“Sometimes when my father asks for help watching the sheep, I’ll sit in the pastures and talk to them, but with the fox, it was different. I was sure it could understand what I said.” You chuckle again, embarrassed. “I’d been struggling to find any animals that day too, and that fox led me to a deer. It was like the gods were watching out for me.”
You glance at Apollo, nervous for what his response could be, because it does sound a little outlandish, but he simply smiles warmly. “Olympus rests in the heavens, but on occasion, the gods take care to remind us they’re closer than we think.”
“Well said,” you compliment, then continue teasingly, “Did you hear that from one of the priests?”
Apollo laughs and shrugs noncommittally. “They have a way with words.”
Time with you passes much too quickly and he’s saddened as it draws to a close. Your parting words include an apology for disturbing him, since he’d come to the forest to think, and he’s speaking to you as Apollo, not as Loukas, when he promises that you would never be a disturbance. He’d enjoyed your company, hopes that you’d enjoyed his too and that perhaps this wouldn’t be the end. Until the next meeting? It’s asked in a way that leaves it open, for there’s no set date and you’ll leave it to chance that you run into each other on another day.
You nod and your lips, stretching into a grin, look so soft. “If it be the will of the Fates, we’ll see each other again.”
“I’ll have to pray for their favor then.” He lifts a hand in a wave goodbye, and you return it before making your leave, gradually becoming concealed by the foliage.
But Apollo would do no such thing. The hands of the Fates keep the world turning but where it concerns you, he would pull the strings himself. He doesn’t bother to entertain the idea of what your thread might contain, whether there’s a place for him in it or not, because he doesn’t care to find out. He wants to be with you, and it’s a desire so powerful that he would dare to push back against the Moirai in order to fulfill it.
From the moment he’d said goodbye during your first conversation, he already knew you would meet again. He’d be there in the woods to wait for you. It isn’t the will of the Fates that turns this wheel, but Apollo.
Hermes had noted both the change in Apollo’s demeanor, his propensity for bouts of silence as he watches the earth below, in combination with his recent absences to go down there, but for what, Hermes doesn’t know. Apollo is forward with him as to what he’s been up to, like he had been with Ares, but unlike Ares, Hermes is privy to just what Apollo feels regarding the Fates and their plans for you.
“It’s no small matter to reject what they’ve ordained,” Hermes remarks. “The threads they spin, it’s destiny. Even for that girl who’s caught your eye.”
But Apollo isn’t easily swayed. It’s the strong who admit no destiny, and he would shoulder the burden of Atlas and carry the sky on his back. Where it concerns you, the Fates were a mere interference. He’d forge the future on his own.
***
The way your eyes light up when you do see him again makes everything in the world feel right, and upon your playful comment—It seems the Fates have been kind—he brushes aside the idea of destiny and the Moirai easily. In response, he hums, declares They have despite not meaning it since, well, it isn’t true. And he wishes he could tell you it was his doing, that it would always be him pushing you two together because he wants the praise which falls from your lips to be for him and him alone. Though he supposes there would be time yet to reveal such secrets to you, and despite the irritation he feels at needing to wait, he will do so without complaint.
Besides, he’s too preoccupied paying attention to you to bother complaining. You take up all the space in his mind, and there’s room for little else. It’s entirely unusual for the likes of Apollo to be this enamored with anyone, and he studies your form closely as you talk—the curl of your lashes, the sheen of your hair pulled into a braid, the color of your lips—wondering if you found your beginnings as a sculpture, not a human, and it was Athena who breathed life into your form. If such is the case, where was the pedestal off of which you stepped, leaving it behind without looking back in favor of exploring the world around you? Which lands claimed the privilege to have you on display? Those which he posits as possibilities are hardly worthy, but very few, if any, could be.
Had you come from Olympus? It’s the only place Apollo knows contains beauty to the degree you possess. He imagines you there, in the fields or in the courtyard, settled amongst the flowers and staring overhead at a sun unobscured by clouds. He imagines that you look right at home, and it would be ironic that you should be under his nose this whole time, his songbird easily spotted by glancing out the window of his bedroom. Your every word’s a dream and he delights to hear your honeyed tones. He wants you to pray to him with that sweet voice, and he’d honor all your requests so long as you sang for him.
You’ve started teaching him the calls of various birds which flitter overhead, and the ghost of a smile rests on his lips to hear your enthusiasm. There’s an occasional bout of hesitation on your part, unsure if you’ve identified the calls correctly and digging through your memory for everything Alexios had said, and you flash a toothy grin of satisfaction when the bird whose call you’d been attempting to guess makes its appearance, and you learn you’re correct.
Apollo enjoys this activity, but the only bird whose calls he’s interested is you. He trails his gaze along the column of your throat, envisions the vocal chords within them producing the melody and majesty you radiate. His fingers twitch with the urge to follow the path taken by his eyes, to slide along your jaw, down your neck, touch feather-light and and inquiring from you, in hushed whispers, to what artist he owes an expression of gratitude for gracing him with your existence.
As the days turn into weeks spent together, you only grow closer, and it reaches a point that you suggest he join you and your family for dinner. You look hopeful that he’ll agree, but he can’t, given who he is. He needs to keep his distance from everyone other than you. He hates to be the cause of your disappointment, however slight, and that’s why a heaviness settles in his stomach when he declines.
He’s polite, explaining that he doesn’t want to intrude, and the small smile you’d been wearing fades. Already he’s aching to see it again, wants to beg for it to come back and if you truly wanted him to accompany you, he would do it, any consequences be damned.
Was there a chance that you knew he was lying about the reason? Your head is tilted and you delay giving a response, and maybe you don’t know the real reason (he highly doubts you could figure that out) but you detect enough from the tone of his voice that he fed you a lie. If you do realize it, you don’t address it, and instead, like you heard his earlier wish to see your smile again, that charming smile returns. Now there’s a playfulness to it.
“Then I guess you’ll just be my secret,” you tease.
Apollo grins. It would be his pleasure to be your secret, held close to the heart like all secrets are.
He’d like the beat of your own to help him fall asleep at night. He lays in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about you and whether you’ve also settled in for the evening. If he were to extend arm outward, along the blankets to the empty side, as though reaching for you, he wonders if you’d sense it, the faint touch of his fingertips, a testament to what Apollo feels for you. No distance between you would ever be too great. His dreams are filled with you and perhaps this is a sign that you were thinking of him. He hopes so.
Apollo had been certain of his feelings from the moment he first set his sights on you, but the idea of confessing and revealing his true nature stayed far from his mind. It hadn’t been by any will of his own; he was enamored with you during every meeting, genuinely enjoyed talking, that he hadn’t bothered considering the next step, content in the current moment to just be.
But on a bright afternoon while out in the courtyard, he finally gives it thought, and it’s perfect, really, because sunny days remind him of you, and maybe that’s what prompted the last push. To be around you was to keep a piece of the blessed sun he governs right by his side, your presence warming him even on the stormiest of days, and he desires to know what it would be like to be the recipient of your love as you are of his.
He’s the god of the sun yet he wonders where you have been all these millennia. Maybe your essence had always been there, manifesting in the blooming of flowers one century and then in the powerful flow of a river the next. And on and on your soul drifted through time until it settled within you as you are now, a culmination of the lives you have lived, and maybe Apollo had always known where you were because whenever he looks into your eyes he sees eternity. You’d been with him since the beginning of it all; he was just looking in the wrong places.
There’s a chill in the air on the morning he plans to tell you the truth. You shiver, having come without a cloak, and he offers you his, throwing it around your shoulders before you get the chance to decline. You smile, accepting the help gracefully, and Apollo returns your smile automatically.
Do you remember, he starts, about what I said the day we met? You hum as you attempt to recall what he’s referring to but can’t remember. He doesn’t blame you, since you’d discussed many things then.
“It was about the gods, and how sometimes they’re closer than we think.”
Your eyes light up in recognition. “Oh, yes! But… what about it?”
Apollo doesn’t respond immediately, considering carefully how to phrase his next words. It’s unlike him to be this way, and he is aware, irritatingly so, of the slight hesitation in the back of his brain. It’s not that he’s afraid, because every instance he had imagined this moment, his heartbeat raced not with nerves but with exhilaration. He owes it to the pressure overcoming him to make this flawless, so that you can know the true depth of what he feels toward you. His gaze slides from staring at the horizon down to you, who watches him so attentively, and he realizes the pressure is unfounded. He just needs to be real, and you would understand by the parts he doesn’t say out loud.
So, taking a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs, he speaks. “How would you feel to know one had been at your side?”
“You mean that fox?”
“Not just the fox, but every time you ventured into these woods. You hadn’t been alone.”
Your head tilts. “I wasn’t alone all the time: I had you.”
Apollo goes quiet, waiting to see if you connect the dots yourself. He looks at you and envisions the gears in your head spinning as you stare at each other. Saying it out loud, what he’d been implying, would have garnered the same result as staying silent. His lack of words is still a response to your unspoken question, and he notices the unease which settles on your face, expressive as always, unable to hide what you’re thinking and feeling.
“Loukas…?” Your voice is hushed. Maybe you only say the name because you want to ask what he means, wanting to hear it explicitly, or because you’re questioning if that’s even his real name.
Apollo notices that now you look at him as you did during your first interaction, when the first few polite greetings had been exchanged: like a stranger. You’re keeping yourself guarded, and there’s a tightening sensation in his chest and he hates it. He hates how it hurts and hates to see you look at him that way. And he would never fault you for it because he’d kept his identity a secret, but he loves you and the only way to show it to you, to make it real, was if he told you the truth of who he is first.
He shakes his head. “I go by another name.”
He transforms before you, his mortal covering falling away and giving rise to his divine form. The burst of light which issues forth from this process is so bright you need to cover your eyes. You bring your arm up, and he’d like to reach out and take hold of it, to gently lower it to your side so that he might meet your gaze, but he restrains himself and, instead, says your name quietly, a signal that it’s okay to look now.
And you do. Your eyes are wide in astonishment, your mind no doubt scrambling to process the fact a god is standing in front of you. Sure, you might’ve interacted with one before, in the form of that red fox, but this is something else. This isn’t a vague manifestation, like another animal or a dream, the mysterious—and more typical—methods gods tended to utilize for communication with mortals, but a literal god. No veil or disguise. No hiding.
Apollo studies you closely, contemplates the myriad of emotions which are no doubt flittering through your mind like a dozen little hummingbirds. He keeps his tone tender, for you’re already shocked, and he realizes the situation is a delicate one. Suddenly you start to resemble the deer who roam the forest—graceful in posture and magnificent to behold but still tense, prepared to flee the moment you detect there’s anything unusual.
My name is Apollo, he says lowly. And since I first laid my eyes on you, I have been with you here in these woods.
You take in his appearance: the long blond hair, tanned skin, golden eyes which match the sun shining behind his head high in the sky. He’s beautiful, and that should come as no surprise where it concerns an Olympian, but to witness his beauty yourself is an experience unlike any other, leagues above merely hearing from the priests how he might look or observing the sculptures fashioned as praise for him.
His eyes are what draw most of your attention, and they are kind as well as familiar. They mirror the brighten golden gaze of another being you had encountered in the past, and you let out a quiet breath of disbelief. He had been with you even then. Your intuition speculating that the fox had been a god wasn’t unfounded at all. It hadn’t been an aimless musing, a what-if because you’ve heard the stories of gods appearing to mortals. You’d been correct. It had been fact.
“But why…” You trail off, unable to finish the question because truthfully, how could you? The implications of his actions, of spending all this time with you, only to reveal his true self, speaks for a reality you are having trouble coming to terms with. Why you?
Apollo understands what you’re asking without you needing to continue, and in readying himself to explain from the very beginning, the corner of his lips lifts in a tiny smile as he reminisces on the first words he’d heard you say to him, indirect but meant for him all the same.
“The day was cold, fresh off the heels of a rainstorm the night before,” he starts. “You asked the sun to keep you warm and kept your footsteps to the places on the earth where it touched.”
You remember that moment, and it surprises you that it had reached him, because it hadn’t been a prayer, not a genuine one. Simply a playful aside.
Apollo’s smile grows. Sincere prayer or no, I heard it, and when I did, I wanted to know the one who said it. He explains to you it was your gentle tone which pulled him in, voice laced with affection which underlies your every word, and he wanted to hear more of it, to hear you sing and it could be about anything—your hunts, your family, gossip from the markets—and he would hang, and has hung, on it all because everything you say is the sweetest melody. You put the birds to shame.
And this, he hopes, is adequate to answer your query. He’d seen the confusion on your face, wondering why you had stuck out. He wants to help you understand, see things from his point of view, because even if you might not think so yourself, you’re remarkable. At the tail-end of his speech, throughout which a sense of eagerness had been clawing at him from the inside because this was it—the moment he confesses and might finally feel the softness of your skin against his, might finally hear you say his name—he tells you he loves you.
You’re at a loss for words, as his hang in the air between you, and Apollo had been expecting a reaction of this sort. To be loved by a god was no small matter. But what he isn’t expecting is the shake of your head, slowly at first, like you’re uncertain, but then again, more assertive. It’s his turn to be confused and he murmurs your name, a slight upturn at the end as if asking a question.
“You don’t love me,” you state.
Apollo’s brows furrow. “I assure you there’s little else which I have been so confident about before.”
“But a god and a human together…” You shake your head again. “It’s not meant to last.”
His heart wrenches painfully in his chest to hear you say that, though he understands where you come from. Such stories were common, himself being the god in some of them. The relationships are temporary, but this time, with you, he’s serious. His feelings for you are real, transcending the point of mere infatuation. He loves you and the declaration isn’t empty. He’s almost desperate now as he tries to come up with a way to convince you that your own story, between the two of you, would have no tragic end, maybe even no end at all. Because when stories reach the closing, happy or not, there is always inherent in the drawing of the curtains a perceived sadness, a pulling away from the world upon the stage and one is unceremoniously thrust back into reality, which is nowhere near as spectacular. It’s a disappointment he never wants to feel with you, and he would do all he could do keep you together.
“I sometimes wondered if there was anyone for whom I would change the course of the sun,” he tells you, his eyes drifting upward to glance at the sky. “And I could think of no one until I saw you. I told myself that if you so desired, I would keep the sky free of clouds so you might always feel the warmth of the sun.” His eyes slide back down to meet your own. “If you wished with that sweet voice of yours for the sun to rise in the west and set in the east, I would do it.”
You’re visibly more relaxed now, your gaze having softened as he spoke. It shines with the temptation to give in, to accept his love and give him yours in return, but a small part of you continues to struggle with the idea of loving a god. Apollo hopes you can see the sincerity on his face, as close to a desperate plea as he can get short of actually begging out loud.
“And if I were to ask for that,” you start, "for the sun to rise in the west and set in the east, what of the earth? The crops and the people who rely on its consistent path through the sky?”
Apollo shakes his head. “None of that would matter to me. Don’t you see?” He says your name again, and in a fit of irony the tables have turned because your name upon his lips is a prayer in its own right. “To be with you is to have the world fall away.”
Tentatively, he lifts a hand to set it gently on your cheek. You don’t flinch or back away, and he sighs, one of satisfaction to finally feel your skin, the softness of it to match that of your eyes and your voice and your everything. He declares it to you once more. I love you. And he would keep declaring it until you believed him.
You cover his hand with yours and lean into his hold. There’s still conflict in your gaze, a storm of emotion, and the way you murmur his name sounds like a call for help. You want to be saved. You want to be rid of the discord within you and to accept all he has to give, and you’re closer to the edge, have moved closer with his every word, but the last bit of hesitation keeps you from falling over. Apollo…
The breath leaves his lungs to hear you utter his name, a sound he has longed to hear since the first time he heard you speak. There’s a twisting in his chest but now it’s from that flood of love which he is barely able to contain. He wants to hear you say his name again and again, and he’ll fight against the hesitation you continue to feel, chip away at it until it’s only you and him and he could guide you over the edge and into his embrace.
His thumb strokes your cheek, a comforting back and forth motion. “We’re meant for each other.”
“You speak of destiny, but who other than the Fates can determine what any of us are truly meant for?”
Apollo is reminded of the conversation he had with Hermes what seems like many moons ago. All at once the fires of passion flare with him, magnified by his defiance of the Fates. When he’d declared to Hermes that where it concerned you, the future was his to forge, he’d been serious. He proclaims it now to you, promises that when it comes to the two of you, the Fates are powerless.
“The thread of your life is spun and measured by the Moirai, but I would pluck it from the hand of Atropos and her shears so that you might stay with me forever.”
It’s his final appeal, the ultimate supplication, to dare to go against the hand of fate. You understand the gravity of this assertion, and at hearing it, the last of those defenses in you drops, and there’s a clearing of the storm clouds, which he detects in the clarity of your gaze. As you look up at him, you do so with sureness, with love, and to bear witness to and be the recipient of your radiant affection is to make the task of intertwining your own fates as easy as waking up in the morning. You give him the strength to carry it out and there truly is no one else for whom he would go to such lengths for.
He kisses you and your lips are warm. Maybe you’re a piece of the sun that has fallen to earth, a shooting star which has made its home here until he found you. You’re the part of him that’s been missing, and holding you now, Apollo is aware of how complete he feels.
Upon parting, you remain close and watch one other. The silent look shared is intense, profound; two hearts beating the same lonely tune, fiercely longing for love and not caring what the world—or the heavens—might think.
Title: Training
Word Count: 3390
Pairing: Ares/Reader, Apollo/Reader, Ares/Reader/Apollo
Fandom: Blood of Zeus
Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)
Summary: Apollo likes to flirt with you while you train with Ares to become a great soldier. A joke on your part about letting them both compete for you gets a little out of hand.
Set with Blood of Zeus Gods in mind, but I'm sure you could imagine them to look however you want.
A/N: If I must write the content for the x readers in this series so be it I’m going to write.
AO3 Link
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It had been a joke, you swore it.
Well, perhaps that was a lie. It was only half of a joke.
To be honest, all you could remember was Apollo’s snide voice overhead of Ares’ training session with you. A musing coo meant to distract the other god so that the relentless work you were put through may go slower and bide him more time to find a way to mess it up. Apollo’s curious musings of bewilderment over how well you could handle his sword versus Are’s hammer were met with a snide retort about how Ares’ hammer was ten times better than Apollo could hope to be. You paused to watch them bicker, appreciating the break from the otherwise exhausting session, and smiled behind your war hammer as the two gods you adored bickered before you.
The words had slipped out of your mouth as more a commitment to the theatrics of the argument more than anything else:
“Why don’t the two of you let me decide?”
It had brought about a lengthy pause before the look shared between the two gods turned into something of matching mischievous smirks. You paled at the realization of what was going through the two god’s heads at the same time and something about it made your throat go dry and the space between your legs throb.
It was how you then found yourself being pushed into the soft, silken sheets of Apollo’s bed by the taller god, your lips claimed by his own with tender curiosity as hands trailed up your side with teasing touches. You weren’t aware just when your clothes had come off, but it didn’t matter as Apollo’s large hands covered your breast with a careful caress, pinching a nipple between tanned fingers while his lips accosted the side of your neck with hungry kisses. The attention made you gasp, hands flying up to tangle themselves into Apollo’s long hair.
Beyond the lover on top of you, you were able to watch as Ares began removing his own clothes with a methodical slowness, his red eyes never leaving your form as it was ravished beneath another. Jealousy seemed to spark inside of him as much as competition did, making you mewl helplessly as Apollo’s mouth trailed from your neck to one of your breasts, his lips hungry for it as he nibbled along the tender flesh.
“You’re so soft, (Y/N),” Apollo purred with praise thick on his voice, “So beautiful…”
The praise that fell from the lips of a being ten times as beautiful as yourself made your face flush bright red, a sight Apollo seemed to enjoy as he gazed down with moderate amusement at you. A fingertip trailed from your breasts to your face, cupping your cheek in one large palm and letting his fingertips rub gently along your kiss-swollen lips, pulling the bottom one down curiously. On instinct, you opened your mouth and took the digit between your parted lips, sucking on it while one heated gaze met the other, making him hum in approval.
A firm hand fell on Apollo’s shoulder, pulling the other god away with a sharp tone of, “Get off.”
Apollo smirked as he rolled off of you, tilting his head with a click of his tongue.
“So demanding, even in bed? I doubt you could rile them up anymore than this, don’t you think? I mean, just look at them.”
You gasped as Apollo pulled your legs apart with ease, revealing your soaking core. He inserted his fingers with little warning, two thick digits filling you up and making you keen with delight as he pumped them in and out a few times. He pulled away to reveal the hefty amount of slick that coated them with a satisfied quirk of his eyebrow. A challenge to the other god. Ares growled in return, gripping at you fiercely before bringing you up so that you sat comfortably in his lap, your hands splayed on his hard chest and your hips straddling his own. Ares’ half hard length rubbed teasingly along your entrance, making you squirm in appreciation of the friction.
Still his gaze was… soft… A gentle and concerned look warmed in red eyes as he asked the quiet question of if this was truly okay. The Gods were large, much larger than you - whomst they had comfortably sandwiched between their massive forms - and as desperate as he was to destroy you in that single moment there was a necessary hesitance. A careful judgement of limits all soldiers had within themselves and towards others. It was simply in his nature.
You smiled nonetheless, nodding your head before leaning forward to kiss Ares. Your mouth was so much smaller than his own, it barely did work to cover his full lips, but it was all the permission he needed as his arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer to him, consuming you against his body as his tongue pushed past your parted mouth to taste you.
Already you felt full. He took up so much of your mouth with one fell swoop. One hand was enough to grip half of your ass, spreading it apart and allowing his other hand to dip into your dripping cunt. Ares’ fingers were thicker than Apollo’s. Just one was enough to fill you to the brim, stuffing you up and making you moan into his mouth. You felt Ares’ lips form into a smirk as he continued to work one finger into you, pumping and curling the digit in all the right ways as he grew harder in tandem to the soft noises that fell into his lips from your own.
Apollo slid himself behind you, pressing his lips into your neck and trailing kisses down your spine. His hands held your waist as he let his own hardness touch needily at your back, his tongue darting out to lick up the sweat against your skin before trailing downwards.
“Move your fingers,” Apollo hummed towards Ares, and you shivered at the feeling of his breath on your lower lips. It made Ares growl into your mouth, pulling away to frown down at his fellow god and growl a dark ‘fuck off’ in the lust of his possessiveness. It seemed to urge his fingers faster inside of you, adding a second and stretching you in a way that made you keen in delight against his chest. Ares smirked, gazing at Apollo, who pouted through the edges of blonde hair and thick lashes.
There’s a moment of tense silence between the two before Ares relents with a roll of his eyes, his fingertips sliding from your entrance and making you keen in desperation to be filled once more. Your whines turned to moans as Apollo’s lips replaced Ares’ fingers. He sucked and lapped at your entrance like a starving man, using his grip on your thighs to hold your squirming form still as he plunged his tongue between your folds, humming in appreciation of the taste.
“Listen to that,” Ares mused with a lopsided smirk, “Your slutty little moans… Better than the finest music on Olympus.”
Your face heated up red with embarrassment while, beneath you, Apollo chuckled. It sent a series of sweet vibrations up your entrance as his tongue gave one more longing lick at your clit.
“That we can both seem to agree on.”
His lips returned, nibbling gently on your clit as he let a finger slide into your entrance alongside it, making you keen into Ares’ chest. Ares busied himself with lowering his lips to your neck, leaving a fearsome series of bites and bruises along the bare flesh. A signal that you were his. Surely Apollo would fight to leave marks of his own as well. It was the one enjoyable thing about a human lover. Their marks lasted. Their test of just how much your body could take was always different.
“A-Ap...Ares...App-pollo-Gods I-Hh~.”
You tried to form words but nothing came out beyond the stuttering of desire, your entire form trying to work its way out of the god’s bruising grips as they ravished you. Instead each form held you closer, devouring you until the overstimulation brought a pulsating pleasure to your cunt and an orgasm that rolled off of your lips as much as it did down Apollo’s face. Ares swallowed your moans and curses in his own kiss, his deep and guttural growl of arousal shaking your very core as Apollo hummed with absolute delight. As though he were tasting the sweetest nectar of ambrosia.
Ares took a moment to pull away from your lips. To drag his tongue up to collect the sweat of your pleasure against his taste buds and revel in it. Below, Apollo took one last languid lick of your insides, placing a kiss on your clit before sitting up to kiss the back of your neck. Turning your head, you whined in a needy tone. Your mouth was desperate for your lovers. Apollo obliged with ease, allowing you to taste yourself upon his mouth while Ares’ cock gilded sweetly along your entrance, now fully rigid and everything of what your pleasure needed at that moment.
“Our needy little mortal seems like they want something,” Apollo teased in a whisper behind you, his kisses burning your skin as he chuckled, “I wonder what they could want?”
“Beats me,” Ares played along with a gruff chuff of his own, “All they seem to want to do is whine like a bitch in heat. Can you spit out your words, little one?”
Ares’ touch was hard as he gripped your chin between thumb and forefinger, pinching your face so that you were forced to meet his stern, red eyes. Your face was red with embarrassment as it was held still, your gaze squirming without success to land itself anywhere but by the lustful eyes of your mentor. Instead you were forced into it, and Ares quirked one eyebrow upwards with moderate curiosity as he waited for your answer. Behind the two of you, Apollo chuckled. His heat radiated off of him in waves as his fingers curled around your body and tugged lightly at the most sensitive areas they could find in an effort to make you squirm with desire.
“Come now,” Apollo whispered, “We know you’re not mute. Tell us what you’d like us to do to this pretty little cunt of yours~.”
A feathered touch to your throbbing, sensitive core made you whine loudly, drunk off the pleasure the two gods dangled right in front of your nose. Opening your mouth best you could against Ares’ tight grip, you simply let your words spill with starving desperation. Drool fell alongside words as you squirmed and gripped Ares' wrist with shaking fingers.
“A-Ah- Please… I w-want you inside me. Aressss please I want to feel you f-fuck me! I want to feel you both, pleaaaaase please- gods- ahhh - please-!”
Your begging was sweet, making both gods blush in awe at the squirming pile of flesh between them. Their dicks throbbed desperately and Ares could only grunt his approval, hearing you keen hungrily. He threw you down into the bed, flipped you so that you were on all fours, and positioned himself at your aching hole. His tip was large and dribbling with precum. The feeling of it pressing hot and heavy on your entrance made you whimper and moan, an effort to buck back on the cock not going unnoticed as Ares chuckled. He steadied your hips with his hands as Apollo reached out to grab at some of your hair, tugging and smiling as your attention was turned to him once more.
“Can I have your mouth, little one?”
It was silly of him to ask when he was in the perfect position to take, but you didn’t care about formalities. Instead you let their mouth open up as wide as it could, lolling your tongue out and showing the way the strands of your drool clung to your lips as you begged desperately for your god’s cock. Apollo chuckled, rubbing your hair in one more affectionate swoop before pressing the tip along your mouth. He slid it in carefully, his dick thinner than Ares’ certainly but longer by the slimmest margins. It curved beautifully down your throat, making you gag for a moment before your throat began to relax. You started to breathe through your nose all while Apollo exhaled breathy moans of delight at the warmth encompassing him.
“Gods your mouth,” Apollo gasped sweet praises as his head threw itself back, “So tight - mmmm - so wet… Sweet thing you are heaven.”
“Not as tight as this cunt, though,” Ares’ growl was dark behind you, reminding you that he would not be forgotten. The massive god of war gave no warning to you before pushing himself forward. He sheathed the tip of his cock within your tight entrance, making you scream in delight as your walls clung to him. The vibrations of your pleasure made their way up Apollo’s cock, causing the god’s hand to tighten in your hair as he cursed gently through gritted teeth. As still as he tried to keep his hips for his you, he could not help the gentle shift of them so that his cock pushed itself just a little deeper to the back of your throat.
Ares continued pushing behind you with little care to your form. He was relentless and determined to fit himself within you. To take the pleasure that had been teased to him the whole day. Fingertips left hefty bruises on your hips as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You used Apollo’s hips for balance as the tips of your toes curled through Ares’ relentless pushing.
Once the god of war was bottomed out, he let out a hefty snarl that buried itself in the back of your neck, making you shudder as your walls clenched around his girthy cock. It throbbed inside of you as he gave a single moment to allow you comfort. To adjust to him as he revelled in the warm, tight heat that surrounded him. Both he and Apollo were lost in the wetness of you, their human lover. In the way you squirmed as you were filled with two hefty cocks. You felt your stomach bulge with Ares’ girth, your guts churning as your jaw began to ache around Apollo.
Your signal was all they needed. You shifted your hips back and moaned weakly around Apollo’s cock, eyes gazing up in a teary, silent permission to openly destroy you.
And - oh - how willing the gods were to please.
Ares movements were primal as he dragged himself along the walls of your cunt, feeling them clench around his girth with sweet desperation until only the tip was left inside of you. He pushed back in with fearsome greed, making moan after moan spill from your mortal lips in the process. He continued his relentless pace. So fast was his force that you could feel your insides churning with devoured intensity. Your guts shifted with each heavy push of the god’s desperate cock, making goosebumps shine along your body alongside the sweat that formed.
Your nails dug into Apollo’s smooth thighs, not leaving marks but offering the god a pleasant pain through his pleasure as his own hips moved in tandem with the other god’s to fill you up perfectly. His dick thrust so tenderly inside of your mouth - such a different feeling than Ares’ roughness - that you could barely keep up with the argument of sensations. Drool slid past your lips and dribbled down Apollo’s handsome cock, landing on the bed sheets below as his grip remained firm on your hair.
“Gods, you feel so tight,” Apollo moaned as Ares grunted his agreement, his body covering up the entirety of your form as he pounded into you with a hunger only a god could truly have.
“Tight and wet,” Ares growled with a chuckle in his tone, “This what you want, little mortal? To be taken at once by two gods? To be worshiped like this? To be fucked in a way - hh - no other mortal man could satisfy you?”
“We wouldn’t let anyone else satisfy you,” Apollo’s own growl warned in front of you as he let his hand grip your scalp tighter, “No, you are ours and you belong to us. This is our mouth to use and our cunt to fuck, isn’t that right? Only ours. Our perfect little human.”
You could do nothing but moan in agreement around the two, your brain changing into mush as the gods accosted you. Pleasure clouded the edges of your vision as your stomach churned with clenching desire. Your second orgasm built itself up in the center of your body, making your toes curl as your moans grew more and more vocal by the moment. Ares sensed your impending orgasm by the way your walls fluttered around him, making him groan as he picked up his pace, snapping his hips hard into you. The sound of flesh slapping along flesh echoed as he worked himself greedily into you. Chasing his own release alongside yours as your grip on Apollo only intensified through your heady pleasure. Tears had begun to spill from your eyes, wetting your already damp face as Apollo kept his grip steady, dragging yourmouth along his cock to fuck you at his own pace.
It was when Ares’ fingers moved to your clit and Apollo tugged tightly on you that you lost it. You came with a moan around Apollo and a tight squeeze around Ares, making both gods curse as their own hips snapped to speed up their impending orgasms. Ares came with a guttural, heavy growl that echoed war drums in the back of your mind. You could feel the throbbing of the dick inside of you as it filled your insides up with rope after rope of cum. Apollo held your head still as he came inside of your whining mouth, shooting his own sweet tasting ropes down your throat. He brought you to swallow each strand as you squirmed and gasped around the sudden intrusion.
The three of you remained like that for what felt like eternity, connected within one another as you caught your breath. Apollo’s hand continued to stroke at your head, ruffling the already messed up strands of hair in his movement of praise. He eventually slid his softening cock from your mouth, watching with a light chuckle as you coughed up a few strands of his cum that did not make it down your throat. The semen and spit glittered down your neck as you gasped. You collapsed all the way on the sheets beneath you once Ares slid out as well, exhaling as he admired the way his own semen dribbled from your full entrance.
Sliding into the soft bed sheets, you shut your eyes and heaved a breath of fresh air, your limbs sore and cunt aching from the abuse it had suffered. Yet it was the most delicious feeling in a way. Sweet and hot and sticky all at once, you ached much like you did after a good workout session.
Apollo lay down first with you, his lips finding your forehead and pressing a kiss to it with a chuckle.
“Such a good thing for us,” He cooed sweetly, “Taking us so well like that. You’re a natural, (Y/N).”
Ares scoffed above them both, sliding into his own space against you and tracing designs on your trembling thigh. Not one for as many praising words as Apollo, he simply showed his appreciation with touch above all else. You all but purred into his touch as they let your body relax.
---
You had no idea when you fell asleep, nor how long it was.
You simply woke up a moment later with sheets over your body and a pile of fresh fruit presented in a glimmering gold bowl, your lovers gone to work about the day as they got their rest.
A smile broke on your lips as you accepted a pomegranate from the golden platter and began to open it, watching the world of Olympus continue on beyond the comfort of Apollo’s pantheon.
Finally, I am VERY happy to say to all of you, that the project that my best friend @whack-ed and I work on a lot, it's finally here! It is nothing less than a crossover of the best series in the world. Harry Potter and Percy Jackson! From here until God knows when, every Friday will have new chapters.
Originally this fanfiction was posted on Wattpad with OC characters, but I really wanted to share this fic with the rest of you. So I made one of my OCs our dear Y/n.
Hope you all enjoy this fiction as much as me and Nina. We put our hearts into it.
And as there is nothing for the few here, you can read it in two versions! As a Camper at Camp Half-blood on my profile, or as a Hogwarts Student on @whack-ed's profile!
And without further ado, welcome to Timeless!
"What would you say if I told you that Hogwarts and Camp Half-Blood are not so far apart? Yeah, Gale and Y/n would also say this is crazy. But these two girls are about to discover that even though they are far apart, the magic that surrounds them is the same. After all, what do a time travel, a fearful prophecy and a Titan about to resurrect, have in common? Certainly more than you can imagine."
Whack-ed: In the beginning it's platonic!fred & george x reader, but I promise that in the end it is fred x reader.
Frekingbellam: Apollo x reader.
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty One | Twenty Two | Twenty Three | ...
HI... I love your Apollo x reader so bad I'm crying aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Can you make another Apollo X Reader where reader is like going on a quest w Percy and reader got wounded and Apollo who have a crush on reader but pretends that he doesn't have a crush on reader get super worried and like confessed to reader uwu. I'm sorry if it's confusing, anyway LOVE YOU
HI! Thank you so much for reading and requesting this, I really hope you love it!
pairings: Apollo X Reader | Percy Jackson X Reader (platonic)
warnings: near-death experience
You were having a wonderful day. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight, there was a nice slight breeze flying by, the strawberries were growing nicely, everyone seems to be in a great mood, nothing could ruin your day. Or so you thought. When you arrived at your cabin, you spotted your best friend since middle school, Percy Jackson. You both arrived together at camp all those years ago and have been by each other’s side since. But from the smile on his face, you knew he was about to ask for something.
“Wanna go on a quest?” He smiled as you stopped by the steps of your cabin.
You crossed your arms over your chest, “Wow. Hey Y/n, how are you today? Oh! Hey, Percy! I was having such a great day, thanks for asking.”
He dramatically rolled his eyes, “Hey Y/n, I’m so happy you had a great day. Wanna go on a quest with me?”
“Sure, what are we doing?” You asked going up the steps of your cabin, heading to the door.
“Hermes is down so Demeter wants us to give Persephone something.” He held up a small wrapped package.
That doesn’t sound very hard. This quest could very possibly only be a day or two long.
“Alright. Give me a minute to pack.”
You entered your cabin and went straight to your bunk. Grabbing your bag from the trunk by your bed, you quickly started to shove in your quest essentials: your extra toothbrush, toothpaste, clothes, deodorant, drachmas, money, and your emergency dagger that y/g/p gave to you on your sixteenth birthday. After you close your bag, you put it on just as the door was opened. You turned to see your little sister, Ginger, walking in, with a bright red face and goofy smile.
You smiled at her, “What’s with the smile Ginger?”
She giggled as she rushed over to hug you. You bent down and caught her in your arms, picking her up and tightly hugging her.
“Apollo is outside and he says I look radiate.” She giggled.
Apollo is outside? Well, that’s not really shocking. Ever since his punishment ended he has been visiting Camp more often and hanging out with his children. You would be a liar if you said you hadn’t fallen for the sun god. How could you not? During his time as a mortal, you realized your crush on him. He had unquestionably grown as a person and it made your heart flutter whenever you two would hang out together. Part of you selfishly wanted him to remain mortal so the two of you could be together, but you accept the fact that he probably only saw you as a close friend. Apollo has been hanging around some of the other campers lately and has become a bit distant.
Placing Ginger down, you ruffled her curly brown hair, “He’s a bit too old for you Gin, like a couple of centuries too old. I don’t think y/g/n is gonna approve of that.” She playfully rolled her eyes, unraveling herself from your hold.
“He’s talking to Percy outside. He told me to tell you to hurry up.” She skipped away further into the cabin.
Walking to the door, you stop about a foot away from it and fixed your clothes, and smoothed your hair out with your hands. You hoped that Aphrodite would give you a quick blessing before opening the door and stepping out, seeing Percy and Apollo speaking to each other on the steps of your cabin.
“Morning Apollo!” You smiled as they both turned to look at you.
“Morning Flower! Are you going somewhere?” He asked motioning to your bag.
You nodded, “Yup, I’m going with Percy to giving something to Persephone.”
He gave Percy a look, it almost looked judgemental to you. Why would he give Percy that type of look?
“Did you ask her to go with you?” He questioned Percy, in an off-putting tone.
“Uh-yeah. Persephone likes y/n. I figured bringing y/n along would make Persephone happy.” Percy shrugged.
“Why would you care if he asked me?” You defensively asked, crossing your arms over your chest.
He looked at you again, opening and closing his mouth, trying to formulate an excuse.
“I-I-I didn’t-I didn’t mean it like that!”
“Yeah whatever,” you scoffed, “come on Perc. Let’s get this over with.”
You grabbed Percy by his arm and dragged him away from the bumbling God who was yelling out apologies. How dare he even ask something like that? You helped save Olympus for crying out loud! If saving Olympus wasn’t good enough for him, you were going to show just how well you could handle yourself on a quest. Here you were thinking that he had changed into a better person/god.
The train cart was quiet as it went to its destination, Washington D.C. Why Persephone was there was beyond you, but you couldn’t wait to see your old friend. Percy sat in the seat across from you, staring out the window. He had been quiet since you left the camp. You assumed he was letting you cool down.
“He didn’t mean it that way, ya know.”
You looked at your best friend. He was still staring out of the window, arms loosely folded across his chest.
“But why would he even ask that? Like-I helped save Olympus for crying out loud. Does he not think I can handle doing a quest?”
Percy chuckled as he shook his head, a smile on his face, “You’re so blind.”
You scoffed, “Blind about what? He’s an asshole.”
“Y/n, he has a crush on you.”
You stared at Percy in shock. He what? Apollo has a crush on you?
“Apollo has had a crush on you since his punishment. You never noticed how he would literally agree with everything you would say, laugh a little too hard at your non-funny jokes, and wanted to hang out with you every second of the day?”
You had to think about that. Honestly, you didn’t see it as him wanting to be closer to you because he liked you. It just felt as if he just wanted to be around someone he was familiar with. Him having a crush on you was the last thing you expected.
“Look, he told me to give this to you when you’re in a better mood. Apollo can be an idiot, but I can tell that he wants to make things better with you.”
Percy handed you a folded up piece of paper. You slowly took the piece of paper and looked at it. Your name had been written on the top in elegant cursive writing. Glancing up at Percy, you see him leaned back on his seat, eyes closed, getting comfortable in the seat to take a quick nap. Looking back down at the folded note, you open it up and see many attempts at haikus filling the page. Many of them were crossed out, and some were unfinished with self ridiculing comments written around them. Why would he send you a page filled with unfinished haikus? You turned the page and saw that he had another unfinished haiku written, but this one was different. It had arrows pointing towards it and little hearts and stars surrounding it.
‘Little Flower
My little flower
Blooms under the starry night sky
And that’s all I have…’
Your face felt hot as you reread the title and unfinished haiku. As far as you knew, you were the only person that Apollo called ‘flower’ and he had never called you his little flower. Maybe he did have a crush on you.
The beginning half of the quest had gone well. It took you a minute to regain yourself from the discovery, but you had to put it aside to focus on the quest. You swore to yourself that you would speak to Apollo as soon as you got to Camp again.
After delivering the package to Persephone, she asked for you both to take her young demigod son Timothy with you to Camp. Taking Timothy with you, both of you heightened your awareness. The most powerful son of Poseidon, the child of y/g/p, and the young son of Persephone was a bright neon sign calling out to monsters to come eat them. That’s how you got into this situation, running away from five echidnas and two harpies who were hot on your trail. You held little Timothy in your arms as you ran through the woods, ducking and jumping over tree branches, heading to Camp. Percy ran beside you, trying his best to block any attacks from hitting you or Timothy. Once you saw the border guards, you began to scream at them for help.
“Help!” The two closest guards jumped at the sound of your panicked voice and immediately ran over to help out.
“You’re mine child of y/g/p!”
Before you could cross the border, a searing pain came from near your left collar bone area and you watch as a spear came out through your body-your blood coating the tip of the spear. Timothy screamed in horror as you fell forward, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you fell unconscious. His tiny hands clutched your shirt as his screams drew the attention of other guards and campers passing by. One such camper being Will Solace, son of Apollo. Running up the hill, he stops when he sees the scene before him. You laid unresponsive on top of a small child who was screaming for help and a bloody spear stuck out through your body. He felt his blood turn cold as he prayed to every god and fates that you weren’t dead. He bolted to your side and carefully took Timothy out from under you, handing him off to another camper that came to help.
“Stay with me y/n.” He tried his best to put pressure on your wound but it wasn’t much help. He was going to need the big guns. His dad.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Nothing felt different. You slowly woke up without an ounce of pain rushing through your body. Your throat didn’t feel dry, your collar bone area didn’t hurt, and your head didn’t hurt either. Everything felt normal. Well, except for a strange presence laying between your legs. Carefully lifting your head, you look down at your legs and see a little body cuddled in between your legs. It was Timothy. He had a tight grip on the blanket covering you.
“You swore you would keep them safe Percy!”
You slowly turned your head to the loud voice and tried to focus your eyes on the two people standing by the door. It took a moment before your eyes adjusted and you saw Apollo and Percy.
“I tried! We can’t help it that monsters want to kill us Apollo, I let y/n run while I took them on. I thought they were safe.” Percy’s voice cracked as he defended himself.
“Well, they’re clearly not,” Apollo turned to point at you but he froze when he saw you staring right at him. “Y/n!”
He dried his tears and ran to your side, dropping down next to your cot. The god had more tears in his eyes, his once golden skin and breathtaking blue eyes were blotchy and dull. He gently grabbed hold of your hand closest to him while you laid your head back on the pillow.
“Do you like me?”
Of course, that is the first thing you ask after almost dying.
Apollo let out a laugh as he brought your hand up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the top of your hand. Tears ran down his blotchy red cheeks as he lovingly stared down at you.
“You’re seriously asking me that?” He asked.
“I need a solid answer-,”
Apollo kissed you. You were momentarily shocked but quickly reacted by kissing him back. You could’ve never dreamt of a kiss like this. Albeit a gentle kiss, you felt all of the passion and love he was putting into it. His kiss had you forgetting about the world around you and made you feel like you were his world, because to Apollo, you were just that. His world. His everything. The person he wanted to change for and give them the world.
When he heard Will’s prayers, he felt as though his entire world crumbled. He rushed down to the infirmary and did everything in his power to heal you. He couldn’t lose another love, especially if he could stop it. Blocking off anyone from going near you (except for Timothy. Apollo could bare to say no to his little puppy dog eyes), he acted as your bodyguard, monitoring you, feeding you nectar, telling you about his day, singing random hymns and jingles. He wasn’t going to lose you. Not before he even had you.
The kiss was short, but it gave you your answer. Apollo was head over heels in love with you and you felt the same way about him. Looking at the god, you saw a new set of fresh tears forming and him smiling down at you. You smiled back at him while reaching over and drying his eyes with the hand he had been holding.
“Can I tell you something?”
He frantically nodded his head while drying his face again with his hands, “You can tell me anything you want my little flower.”
You smiled, “The second line of your haiku had eight syllables.”
For a moment, you both stared at each other before erupting into loud laughter, only stopping when a tiny groan came from the sleeping toddler laying between your legs. You looked at Apollo, admiring him as he did the same to you. His little flower.
“Can I read you the updated version?” He asked, pulling something out of his pocket.
You excitedly nodded. He opened the folded piece and cleared his throat as his eyes scanned the paper,
