Gods Among Us – CL16 x fem!reader
back to chrononaut series
A trip to Greece turns… unexpected. And Charles? Not quite himself.
warnings: no Leo in this one (sorry leo), apollo being clingy, light physical affection, time travel, Greek mythology, fluff, swearing, mild power dynamic (he is a god so...), anxiety attack, a lil funny too ig
a/n: excited to write the first fic of this series. Never wrote for CL, let's see how this goes. I do love Athens, top5 places for me.
JESUSCHRIST THIS IS SO LONG
🔊 listening to: Wildflower - Billie Eilish
It started with Charles knocking on the bathroom door while you were still brushing your teeth.
“Chérie, can I come in?” he called through the wood, sounding way too cheerful for someone who had slept four hours after a triple-header.
You spat toothpaste into the sink. “If you’re here to tell me Ferrari scheduled another sim day, I’m locking you out.”
The door opened a crack. He slid inside with that smile, the soft one, the I’m-about-to-ask-you-something smile.
“No sim,” he promised, holding up his hands in surrender. “Actually… vacation.”
You turned fully toward him.
“Wait. Real vacation? As in, not training disguised as rest?”
He pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “You wound me. I would never disguise gym time as rest.”
You raised an eyebrow. "Char-"
That made you laugh, and his whole face lit up.
“So...?” you asked, crossing your arms. “Where are you taking me?”
He stepped closer, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear in that absentminded way that still melted you.
Then he whispered it against your cheek:
“I want to see it with you.” His hands settled on your waist. “The Acropolis. The food. The sea..."
“And the architecture… you do know how much I love museums, baby.”
“Of course I do, chérie. My little nerd.” He grinned, then pinched your cheek. “I want a little… escape.”
He didn’t say from the pressure, the cameras, the constant expectation of being perfect. He didn’t need to. You saw it in the slight tiredness around his eyes, in the way he leaned into you.
So you kissed his cheek. “Athens it is. I'm so excited”
THE FLIGTH - NIZA AIRPORT 2.25H TO ATHENS
The airport was supposed to be the calm part of the trip.
You were halfway through the sliding doors when Charles suddenly gasped behind you.
“Chérie—chérie, wait, STOP!”
You spun around, heart dropping at his tone. “What? What happened?”
He patted every pocket he had—hoodie, jeans, backpack—panic rising in his eyes.
“My passport,” he whispered, horrified. “I’ve lost my passport.”
You blinked. “Charles, not again. We haven’t even walked ten meters.”
“I know!” He clutched his head like it was the end of the world. “It’s gone. They won’t let me fly. Ferrari will kill me. Monaco will exile me. My mother—”
You grabbed his backpack and unzipped the front pocket.
The passport was right there.
You rolled your eyes so hard you nearly sprained something. “You absolute dumbass.”
He gave you a sheepish smile, cheeks pink. “I panicked.”
“Yes, but only about important things! Like losing you. Or losing this.”
He pointed at the passport like it was a fragile newborn.
“To be fair,” you muttered, shoving it into his hand, “you did lose me earlier this season.”
He gasped dramatically. “You said you would never bring Austria up again.”
“Then stop losing your passport.”
“Deal,” he said, instantly relieved.
He insisted on carrying both suitcases, even though yours weighed roughly the same as a small elephant.
“Charles, baby, you don’t have to—”
“Yes I do,” he said proudly. “I am strong. I lift.”
“You lift a steering wheel—”
“I LIFT,” he repeated louder, wobbling slightly as he dragged the bags behind him.
Some fans recognized him and whispered. He just grinned at them like everything was perfectly normal while nearly breaking his wrist with your suitcase.
You finally made it to the VIP lounge, and Charles beamed like he’d personally built the place, open arms.
“I like when it’s just us,” he said, tugging you down into one of the massive chairs. “No cameras. No stress.”
He groaned. “Are you never going to let that go?”
You sipped your drink. “Never, might share it with our followers later.”
The plane boarded quickly—private section, wide seats, soft lighting. Charles immediately threw his hoodie over both your legs like a makeshift blanket.
Then, with zero warning, he collapsed into his seat and rested his head on your shoulder.
Five minutes later, he was asleep.
Six minutes later, he was drooling.
You tried to nudge him. “Charles.”
No answer. Just a soft snore.
"God, he's worse than a baby" You sighed, grabbed the book from your bag: Greek Mythology: Secrets of Athens —and opened it on your lap.
You were two chapters in when his breath tickled your neck and he murmured something unintelligible in his sleep.
“Did you just—”
You looked down at the small wet patch on your shoulder.
“Oh my god, you’re disgusting.”
You shook your head and kept reading, occasionally glancing at him—his hair messy, mouth slightly open, eyelashes fluttering with whatever dream he was lost in.
You loved him like this.
Soft. Human.
After another hour, he shifted, nuzzling deeper into your shoulder like a cat seeking warmth.
You smiled.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
The flight attendants kept giggling every time they passed by, whispering things like “That’s adorable” and “He looks like a baby.”
You’d never agree out loud, but… yeah. He kinda did.
ATHENS - VISIT TO THE PARTHENON
He was sprawled on his stomach, hair a mess, one arm thrown over your waist like he needed to keep physical contact even in sleep.
You traced patterns on his back until he groaned awake when you kissed a mole.
“What time is it?” he mumbled into the pillow.
“Late enough that tourists are already crowding the Acropolis.”
He pushed himself up on his elbows, blinking. “Then we should go, but coffee first.”
“No, no—temple first.” He kissed your shoulder. “Coffee on the way.”
He rolled your eyes. “You’re very excited for an ancient ruin.”
“It’s not a ruin,” you corrected softly. “It’s history. And beauty. And—” He looked at you, eyes warm. “Something about it feels… important.”
Hundreds of people were climbing the hill despite the heat. Some recognized Charles instantly. He tried to duck his head under his cap, but his eyes kept flicking to you, checking if you were okay.
“I swear I’m fine,” you insisted.
“Mmh.” He didn’t believe you, the heat was unbearable.
“It’s so hot… we should’ve arrived earlier this morning,” you groaned, fanning yourself dramatically as the sun beat down on both of you.
You reached the top. The Parthenon loomed above you—massive, majestic, surviving, even in ruin.
You took a photo of him pretending to be a normal tourist, hands on his hips, smiling at the columns.
He laughed and reached for your hand. “Take one with me.”
As you leaned into him, the sun hit you from behind.
A wave of heat swept over you. You blinked.
Suddenly it was too bright.
He immediately turned. “What’s wrong?”
You weren’t sure. The crowd felt too close, too pressing. Sweat gathered at your temples. The ground tilted.
"I think I need to sit down for a bit"
You reached blindly for the nearest column, fingers brushing the ancient marble.
It was cool.
But it pulsed, faintly.
Like a heartbeat.
“Hey—hey, chérie, I’ve got you.” Charles grabbed your waist, pulling you to him. “Look at me. Look at me.”
But your vision blurred, then everything went... white?
Light exploded behind your eyelids and Charles’ grip slipped away
as if he had been snatched away from your side.
THE FALL - CITY OF ATHENS CIRCA 445 BC
You hit no ground. You fell through light, and then —
The first thing you noticed was the silence.
Not the absence of sound—there were footsteps, voices—but the absence of modern noise. No phones or cameras. No hum of tourists.
You were lying on smooth marble, for a moment you dared to hope Charles was right beside you, that he’d caught you before you fell.
“Charles…?”
Your voice sounded small.
A guard in bronze armor shouted something you didn’t understand. Two others ran to you, gripping your arms and hauling you upright before you could blink.
“Wait—wait! What the actual fuck is this?” you protested, trying to twist away, but their grips were iron. "Charles!"
They dragged you toward the inner chambers of the temple, where the air was cooler and torches flickered against white stone. Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.
Everything looked new.
Not restored.
New, polished...Perfect.
Then you noticed what you were wearing. A kind of tunic… soft and light, almost floating around you like it had a life of its own. The fabric shimmered in the sun in a way that made you feel graceful.
A golden belt hugged your waist, and thin golden straps curled delicately around your arms. You couldn’t stop staring at your reflection in the marble column—you looked like one of the statues, one of the goddesses, unreal and strange all at once.
“Lord Apollo!” one of them gasped, voice trembling. “We… we found this woman outside your temple. She is… disoriented, and she is calling and shouting that name—over and over.”
The other guard nodded frantically. “We could not calm her! She… she is not from here, we think.”
Apollo’s eyes narrowed, golden light flickering across his skin. His usual calm, godlike composure tightened with sudden intensity.
“Show me,” he said, voice low, commanding.
The first guard led the way, gesturing back toward the steps. “This way, my lord. She is… strange, like nothing we have seen before.”
And then—
Everything stopped.
A wave of warmth rolled into the room, brushing over your skin like a breeze made of sunlight. The guards dropped to one knee instantly, heads bowed.
You turned toward the entrance.
For a second, your mind refused to process it.
Because it was him.
And it wasn’t.
He looked like Charles—same eyes, same mouth, same familiar curve of his jaw. But he moved differently, like the sun obeyed him. His presence filled the room the way sunlight fills a window.
He wore white and gold, fabric flowing behind him like light itself—just like yours—and a thin glowing band circled his arm.
Your breath caught.
“Cha-charles?”
His head snapped toward you.
"Tha-that's the name!" started a guard behind him.
"Silence, now!" Charles or...Apollo shouted.
Apollo’s gaze softened the moment he saw you. The crowd of guards and priests melted from his attention. Time slowed, the sunlight catching your hair, your face, the way your eyes widened as you tried to make sense of the world.
“My love…” he breathed. Those words rolled off his tongue with awe and relief.
The guards froze, unsure if they should speak, bow, or run. Apollo ignored them entirely, stepping toward you, every inch measured.
Like someone seeing a ghost they had begged the universe to return.
He walked toward you slowly—like you were a wild creature he didn’t want to startle. His eyes drank you in, disbelief and longing and fear tangled inside them and you didn't know what to do or what to say so you decided to stay still.
When he reached you, the guards backed away instantly.
He lifted a hand, hesitating just an inch from your cheek.
“My goddess…” he breathed. That title on his tongue felt ancient, reverent. “This cannot be.”
Your pulse stumbled. “Do you know me?” You hoped this was some kind of prank, and that he was just a very good actor.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I have loved you.”
His fingers brushed your cheek, feather-light, like he was checking you were real.
“Apollo…” you whispered, because ‘Charles’ suddenly felt too small, too human for the being in front of you.
He closed his eyes like the sound of his name from your lips was both agony and relief.
“You died,” he said softly. “Or vanished. The Fates would not tell me which. I searched for you everywhere, in dreams, in omens, in the cracks of time itself.”
He opened his eyes again—bright, gold, desperate.
"And where, my muse, have you been hiding?" he questioned touching your neck lightly.
The guards parted respectfully as Apollo raised a hand, golden light flickering faintly around him. His eyes, bright as the sun, locked on you.
“Leave us,” he commanded softly, voice distant, and the guards backed away immediately, bowing and muttering prayers under their breath.
You stumbled slightly, still dizzy from the heat and the strange situation. Apollo’s hand was steady as he reached for yours, guiding you into the cool shadow of his private chamber.
The room smelled faintly of incense and olive oil, sunlight filtering through big stone windows, it was a beautiful sight.
He let go of your hand and leaned against a column, studying you carefully. “You are not… what I expected,” he said finally, voice low.
"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine?" you blurted out hurt.
“Uhh, I guess I am yes..but the thing is...you… you are here. You exist.”
“I—I’m not a goddess Char-, Apollo” you admitted, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “I don't belong in here, I’m from… somewhere else. Not this time. Not this place and I know this will sound crazy and strange but you are just like him.”
“Like… Charles?” he whispered, voice trembling.
"He is my… uhm… lover, yes” you said, trying to mimic the way they spoke. Explaining what boyfriend, partner, or any other modern concept meant felt way too complicated right now.
He moved closer, hand brushing against yours, and you flinched at the warmth, at the intensity of his gaze. “You are… the same as the one I loved before. And yet not her. And yet, somehow, familiar.”
You both fell silent for a moment, the hum of the temple around you filling the space. Then he spoke again, quieter this time.
“So… you are mortal, from a time that is not mine. And yet… the Fates have delivered you here. Perhaps there is a reason.”
You swallowed, heart pounding. “So… what happens now? How do I get back… to my world?”
Apollo ran a hand through his hair, pacing slowly. “I do not know. I can see only fragments. The threads of time are… tangled. But we must try. Together. If we are to remain… if you are to return… safely.”
The two of you spent hours in that sunlit chamber, leaning over ancient maps and sketches of the Acropolis and the city, tracing routes and ruins, discussing the way the city looked in the present and what must have changed. You explained glimpses of the 21st century: the airplane, the airport, even the hotels and cars. Apollo listened, fascinated, like a god learning of a world beyond the stars.
“You are… remarkable,” he said finally, voice softer, almost reverent. “To travel as you have… it is no small feat. And yet you… you are mortal. You are human. Strange… so small and vulnerable.”
“And you… are Apollo” you said, still catching your breath. “And somehow… my boyfriend. Or… the same man I know. I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”
He smiled faintly, almost sadly. “And yet… here we are.”
You wanted to step closer and kiss him—god, you’d been without him for hours, yet painfully close at the same time. Close to his eyes, close to his mouth.
But you couldn’t.
You couldn’t move.
This wasn’t Charles.
This wasn’t your boyfriend.
He was a god. You had no idea how he might react to a kiss… and even if he did kiss you back, you’d be betraying Charles.
Cheating on Charles with Apollo himself.
Finally, you agreed you both needed guidance. He led you through corridors, past flickering torches, to the chamber of the Oracle. Smoke and incense swirled thickly, and the air vibrated with a strange energy.
The Oracle’s eyes, milky and unfocused, settled on you. She did not speak immediately. Then, without opening her mouth a thin voice echoed:
“The muse of Apollo shall return as she departed,
Not of this age, but bound by the threads of fate.
Mortal heart may beat, yet must yield to the divine flow.
Only when the path is mirrored shall the bond be complete.”
You blinked. “…So...what does that mean? I must die? Or… disappear?”
Apollo’s hand squeezed yours, but his gaze never wavered from the Oracle. “Not die, perhaps… vanish from your time, return to mine. You are the muse, maybe you belong to this moment, this place, for as long as the Fates allow.”
"No! No—No, that can't be. I have to go back to Charles, to Monaco. I—I have my whole life there, I can't stay here. I won't." You looked at Apollo, fear clouding your mind. "Look, I'm not the girl you loved and you are not Charles...even tho you look just like him—"
“Only as she once came. The flow of time… demands it. Only mirrored departure brings mirrored arrival.” The Oracle determined cutting her and the echo disappeared.
You glanced at Apollo, feeling the heat irradiating of him, the weight of the marble beneath your feet. Your heart beat faster.
"Apollo I can't really breathe, this is too much" you whispered clutching your chest.
Apollo lifted you into his arms. “We will face it together. Whatever the Fates demand… I will protect you.”
"NO! No—Sorry...I have to get out, I need some alone time"
Your sandals echoed against the marble, each step quicker than the last—and just when you finally thought you were alone, Apollo materialized right in front of you.
“You look so much like her…” he murmured, voice almost reverent. “And you move like her too. Even the way you speak—”
“Stop,” you breathed, backing away until your shoulder hit the marble wall.
He took one step toward you.
Just one.
But it was enough to make your chest tighten painfully.
“I’m not her,” you whispered, breath hitching. “I’m not your muse. I’m not the goddess you lost.”
“You are,” Apollo insisted softly. “You feel like her. The Fates don’t make mistakes.”
“I’m not, okey?” you repeated, the words cracking. “Fuck, I don’t belong here. I don’t belong to you. I have someone. I have my Charles. And I… I can’t do this. I can’t be her for you.”
Your hands trembled and your throat closed up, refusing the air.
The hall suddenly felt too small, too bright.
Apollo froze when he noticed your breathing. His expression shifted instantly—concern, confusion, a flicker of fear.
“You’re trembling,” he said. “Why? Did I… hurt you?”
“No—no, I just—” You pressed your hand to your sternum, but your heart kept racing, beating like it wanted out of your ribs. “I can’t—breathe. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know what you want from me, and you keep looking at me like I’m—her.”
Apollo’s hands hovered beside you but didn’t touch. “You are not well.”
“I’m not her!”
The words came out too loud, too sharp.
Your knees buckled.
In one fluid motion, Apollo crouched down at your level, hands still not touching you, as if afraid he might make it worse.
“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice softened into something gentle. “Breathe with me.”
You tried.
A breath in—shaky and shallow.—A breath out.
Apollo slowly placed his hand over his own heart, letting you mirror him. “Follow the light,” he whispered.
“I’m so not following the light, thanks. That’s like… the death tutorial.” you tried laughing but forced yourself to match him.
One breath.
Then another.
Your vision sharpened again.
“I just want to go back,” you whispered. “I miss him, I just want Charles…”
Apollo’s jaw tightened. A storm passed through his eyes—jealous? heartbroken? you couldn’t tell.
“I understand,” he said quietly, but there was a tremor in it.
“You want him,” he continued.
“And yet the Fates brought you to me.”
“I didn’t choose this” you said softly.
“And I didn’t choose to lose her” he replied. “Yet here you stand… wearing her face.”
A painful silence settled.
"Again, Apollo, I did not choose this"
Then Apollo rose to his feet, offering you his hand—not forceful, not demanding.
“I am leaving now” he said gently. “You should not stay inside these stone walls. Let me know if you need anything. Just say my name. Good night, you.”
You hesitated but he left. And his eyes… despite everything… were warm.
Now alone, your mind started dissecting every thought.
“She shall return as she departed.”
You didn’t want to interpret it literally. You didn’t want to believe that the only way back to Charles—and this Charles—was by surrendering to the same sensation that took you away: heat, dizziness, fear… collapse.
You could see it in the way he watched you, he hadn’t stopped looking at you since the guards first brought you to him—like he was terrified you’d vanish again.
That night, you curled up in a ball and cried yourself to sleep, your sobs echoing on the walls of your tiny bedroom.
MARKET OF THE CITY - THE NEXT DAY
Apollo led you down the temple steps into the city—ancient Athens buzzing with life.
Market stalls spilling with grapes and figs, children running barefoot, merchants shouting prices in a language you couldn't read or understand. The air smelled of honey, grilled bread, olive oil, and sea breeze drifting inland.
That was the first time you really smiled since your arrival.
People bowed as you and Apollo passed.
Some fell to their knees.
Others whispered prayers.
You felt your stomach twist at the sight.
“I’m not a goddess, this is embarrassing” you muttered under your breath quite tired.
“They don’t know that,” Apollo said simply. “And they don’t need to.”
A child stared openly at you—wide-eyed, curious.
You nearly smiled… until he tugged his mother’s sleeve and pointed.
“Mama, is that her? The Sun God’s beloved?”
Apollo didn’t correct him.
He didn’t even flinch.
Instead, he placed a hand lightly at your lower back—not pushing, just guiding you through the crowd. “Ignore their stories,” he murmured. “Mortals always fill in the gaps.”
“But their gaps make me someone I’m not.”
You fell silent, watching him as he stopped in the middle of the Agora. Sunlight hit him perfectly—of course it did—and you felt a strange, small ache. A flicker of the Charles you knew, buried inside this godlike figure.
“You looked like him, sorry” you whispered.
Apollo’s lips twitched.
Not a smile—something softer, sadder.
“Or perhaps he looks like me.”
He broke away from your gaze and pointed to a small fountain. “Come. Sit. Rest.”
You did. The stone was cool under your palms, and for the first time since arriving in this world, the air didn’t choke you.
Apollo sat beside you—close, but not touching you.
“You are far from home,” he said quietly. “But you are not alone.”
You didn’t answer.
You couldn’t.
Because you didn’t know whether that comforted you… or terrified you.
Finally, one evening, as the sun dipped low, Apollo appeared in your room.
“Come, you are returning with him” he said softly. “We must go back to the place where you first arrived.”
“The… entrance?” you whispered. “Where your guards found me?”
“The threads of time open where they once tore.”
Apollo led you outside, down the curved stone stairs, to the exact spot where you had appeared—disoriented, sweating, calling his name like a madwoman.
The air felt thick that night.
“This is where your worlds split,” Apollo said. He brushed his fingers lightly along your cheek, searching your eyes. “And where they will join.”
You tried to smile, but your chest tightened painfully.
“I don’t… I don’t know how to do it,” you whispered.
“I don’t know how to return.”
He stepped closer—not the godly, intimidating Apollo you had met… but your Charles. The softness was the same. The way he looked at you was the same.
“Chérie, you left because your body gave way,” he murmured, thumb tracing your jaw. “Because the heat overtook you. Your spirit traveled. Your heart… followed mine.”
Only Charles called you that. What the fuck did a greek god know about french?
“You must fall,” he whispered.
“But this time… I will catch you.”
Your pulse pounded in your ears as you stood on the stone platform, the same one your forehead had rested on in Athens 2025 when everything spun.
"Wait! I need to do something, just to know if I'm loosing my mind or if this was all real"
You took a knife from Apollo's boot and carved something on the marble stone:
- CL16 + C -
"Okey, now I'm ready, I guess"
The sun above the Acropolis—this Acropolis—beat down on you with the same intensity.
Your vision began to blur.
Your breath caught.
The edges of the world shimmered.
“Apollo…”
Your fingers grasped blindly for him.
“I’m here, relax” he whispered fiercely, arms already around your waist. “I will not lose you again. Do you understand me?"
"Please, please, take me back to him" you begged.
The heat swallowed you whole, a rushing, burning sensation. White and bright like the sun, blinding
Only this time, hands caught you.
Strong arms.
A warm chest.
A familiar voice trembling against your hair.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Stay with me, please—”
Your eyes fluttered open.
And the world around you had changed.
You had a whole croud looking at you but that did not matter at all.
"Chérie? Did you hit your head? Do you know who am I? What day is today?" he drowned you with questions but you only had one.
"Charles? Are you the real Charles Leclerc? Like the one that drives fast-ass cars?" you stuttered ready to cry.
He looked at you with a worried face "Chérie, I think you need a doctor, who else would I be, huh?"
You looked at yourself, a pair of shorts and a white tee.
Your hands covered your face, laughing like a maniac. Charles didn't understand a thing, he was getting worried.
You then started looking for that.
That carving you made under Apollo's heavy gaze.
"Look, look baby, here it is. I was not crazy. Omg, I did really time travel, what the actual fuck"
Charles swallowed hard. The crowd was thinning, though a few curious onlookers still lingered, filming on their phones. His PR team would handle them later.
He followed your gaze to where your fingers pointed.
Carved into the marble were the words:
His eyes went wide, pupils dilating as recognition hit him.
“I did it, love” you said, half-laughing. “I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or if it was real… so I held onto the only thing I knew was real.”
"You owe me a story on the way back, chérie. Come on, let’s get out of here."
And as you climbed the airplane stairs, a voice you had already learned to recognize echoed in your mind.
“Only mirrored departure brings mirrored return.”
You looked up to the sky, hoping he’d finally found his muse again.
