Summary: Zeus refuses to wrestle with his emotions as he listens in on the conversation between not one but two Poseidons. Inspired by @neal-illustrator's "Phantom Pains" comic.
Word Count: 1477
Warnings: Discussions of childhood trauma
Notes: After a month of not writing anything, Neal Illustrator posted this comic in her discord (you should subscribe to her Patreon if you're able btw it's such a lovely community) and I was struck with inspiration like one of Zeus' very own bolts. As soon as I got the notification that Neal posted this on her tumblr I got so excited, finally getting some time to post. Hope y'all enjoy this little angst piece I cooked up:
Time was a strange thing—boundless, all encompassing, and utterly inescapable. All were subject to the ceaseless passage of the seasons—neither mortals nor gods were free from its linear march. Linear, that was to say, in most cases.
Ever since Zeus and his siblings banded together all those millennia ago to defeat the Titan who had once reigned supreme over Time, they had enjoyed relative stability and peace (disregarding that one little uprising incident but, well, Zeus had dealt with that handedly). However, there were a few occasions on which Cronus would rouse ever so slightly from his imposed slumber down in the depths of Tarturus. Those were occasions when time got…weird.
Hence, the scene currently playing out before Zeus. He had felt a ripple in the fabric of reality—that telltale sign that his bastard of a father was acting up again—and had travelled to Aegae to alert his brother. He had planned for them to go down to see Hades together so that the three of them could ensure the seal was holding fast and thus found himself marching through the halls of his middle brother's underwater palace. It was in a central chamber, at the foot of a grand marble statue depicting the Ruler of the Tides, where he had come across Poseidon. Correction—where he had found two Poseidons.
The younger Poseidon was just as Zeus had remembered him, as much as a child his age could have recalled. His hair was a short bob, well on its way to becoming the long, rippling mane that defined his brother in the present day. The edges of his jaw were still soft, marked by a faint peach fuzz that would eventually grow into a well-groomed, tri-pointed beard. He wore a blue ribbon around his neck from which a gold medallion was hung, etched with his emblematic trident—the same medallion he would eventually incorporate into his belt. He still had that youthful sparkle in his eyes, eyes set upon a face that could not hide a single emotion that passed through the young god’s heart; after all, Poseidon had always had one of the biggest hearts of them all, second only to Hestia. And of course:
This Poseidon still had his right arm.
The young God of the Sea, with all his limbs and his animated personality still intact, was a far cry from the deity sitting next to him. Zeus could hardly believe he was watching the same people converse with each other. Zeus’ brother, as he knew him, was a ruthless being. He had his moments when he got flustered, sure, but Poseidon Agolotraina was defined by a coldness as sharp and piercing as the three pronged weapon he wielded. Zeus would often make light of Poseidon’s dour demeanor—as was his right as both his youngest sibling and his king—but the Thunder Bringer was no fool. Zeus was well acquainted with the rage that constantly simmered beneath Poseidon’s surface and he knew better than to underestimate the danger his brother could pose. It was a rage and a danger that were notably absent from the teenage version of Poseidon sitting on those steps, and that thought alone made Zeus’ chest tighten with a sadness he did not care to address.
Typically, Zeus would have sauntered over to the pair, offered some sort of witty one-liner, and generally just have inserted himself into the situation unbidden. However, defying all of his usual desire to command whatever room he was in, Zeus found himself quietly stepping behind one of the pillars and concealing himself from view (as best someone with a form as imposing as his could). His breathing grew shallower as he strained to listen in on his brothers’ conversation, leaving him just about able to make out their exchange.
“Staring is rude,” present-Poseidon chided in his deeper, baritone voice. Zeus snuck a glance around the marble column and spotted past-Poseidon’s fallen face, embarrassment washing over his features like the tide dragging along the shore. The young god quickly averted his eyes and Zeus ducked back into his hiding place, cursing to himself when he noticed his untamed curls peeking out past the edge of the pillar. Thankfully, it became apparent that he had remained undetected when present-Poseidon spoke again. “I can’t tell you how it happened.”
Zeus heard a deep sigh before a higher-pitched voice rang out through the chamber. “I figured as much,” past-Poseidon lamented. His statement was accompanied by a subtle crack, his timbre oscillating between rich fullness and pitchy squeaking in the way that only an adolescent’s could. Fully into his own adulthood, Zeus could not help but find the sound amusing. And yet, it also caused a part of him to ache with a potent nostalgia. It was as if past-Poseidon’s four words alone had transported Zeus back to a simpler time, a time when that very voice was a grounding source of comfort. It was a time when that voice—pitchiness and all—belonged to the man whom Zeus admired the most in the world.
Being the closest in age, Zeus had spent the most time with Poseidon before the domestic embrace of family was so cruelly ripped from him. To be fair, it wasn't as if the rest of his siblings weren’t involved in his rearing. Hades was a stoic yet kind eldest brother and while the girls weren’t technically his sisters, the bonds they all shared gave Zeus a feeling of safety and serenity that ran far deeper than blood. But when Zeus wanted someone to play with, Poseidon had always been the first to volunteer. When he needed a shoulder to cry on, Poseidon’s was the first one he had found. And when their lives were at stake, Poseidon had been the one to tuck him into that secluded corner while maintaining a brave face, ensuring that young Zeus had no idea anything was wrong until it was far too late.
Zeus could still recall the feeling of being tucked securely in the crook of his older brother’s arms as Poseidon’s footsteps echoed through the eerie, empty halls of Olympus. He could still recall the warmth of his older brother’s hands wrapped protectively around him. Young Zeus had no idea it would be the last time he’d ever feel the comfort of Poseidon's right palm splayed across his back again.
“Can I ask you a question?” past-Poseidon continued, breaking Zeus from his increasingly disconcerting recollection.
“Of course,” present-Poseidon responded.
The room fell quiet for a moment, so quiet that Zeus had to hold his breath lest he disturb the pensive stillness of the air. Then, he heard that familiar, cracking voice again.
“Does it still hurt?”
The ichor froze in Zeus’ veins as every muscle in his body went taut all at once. He imagined present-Poseidon was experiencing the same paralyzing, stomach-dropping sensation if the prolonged silence was anything to go by. Zeus could picture the Sea God's facade cracking in his mind’s eye, could almost see the surprised look that must have overtaken Poseidon's impartial expression as his older brother sharply inhaled.
“Don’t fear the pain,” Poseidon finally answered after what felt like a millennia had passed. “The benefits far outweigh the cost.”
Zeus barely managed to hold back his snort. ‘Don’t fear the pain,’ Poseidon said, as if he had not let out a scream for their mother so blood curdling that it still haunted Zeus to this day. ‘The benefits outweigh the cost,’ Poseidon assured, as if he had not tried to overthrow the very same brother for whom he had lost that arm protecting. Through his deflective platitudes, Poseidon had left the heart of the question unanswered. Perhaps he could spare his younger self from the truth, but Zeus had seen Poseidon flinch at nothing more than enough times to know the real answer which his brother had left unspoken.
As Zeus stood in the shadow of that pillar, one hand clenched tightly into a fist at his side, he could not help but wonder—was there any truth to Poseidon’s words? Did he really not regret his decision all those years ago? Was it worth it, losing both a part of himself and the years of his youth trapped in darkness and acid, all to protect his younger brother? Was Zeus one of those ‘benefits’ that outweighed the cost of Poseidon’s choice to face their father head on?
Or were these all just hollow words meant to assuage the fears of a young god not yet marred by the trauma of their youth and the strain in their brotherhood?
Worrying about such things was beneath Zeus. With a gruff exhale, he pushed himself off of the sandstone pillar and stalked back down the halls toward Aegae’s front entrance. Clearly Poseidon was busy—Zeus would just consult Hades on his own. Staying any longer would just be a waste of time. That was why Zeus was leaving without a word.
It was most certainly not because he feared learning the answers to his own questions left unasked.
Mwahahahaha, it's my turn now. 😏 Dionysus lives rent free in my brainhole, sooooo, if you're willing to indulge me, maybe some Dio being a tease, maybe even at a party in a secluded corner. No matter what, I know it'll SLAP. 😌
Okay, that's it. LOVE YOU 🌸🌸🌸
Oh gosh I'm finally done with this one. No beta bc honestly this has taken me long enough and lowkey I need to go to sleep now LMAO but I hope you enjoy my dear 💜🍇
Wanna Dance?
Summary: You're a palace guard at Olympus who was taken from her duties into a role altogether unfamiliar for one of Zeus' banquets. You're out of your element, but you are in the element of a certain god, and said god has no problem showing you the ropes...
Word Count: 2,752
Tags: Alcohol, brief altercation, but if you can believe it nothing else LMAO
Line divider by @/vibeswithrenai found here
Screencap from @/neal-illustrator's Rush animatic
This had to be the worst day of your life.
You were a harpy, one of the privileged few to have the honor of serving under the exalted Horai, standing guard over Olympus itself. Day after day, you would patrol its hallowed halls, your hand resting atop the hilt of your sword as you remained ever vigilant. You prided yourself on your skill with the blade and—when all else failed—the sharpness of your claws. Indeed, you were a warrior through and through, so when it came time for another one of Zeus’s banquets, you expected to take your place standing watch at the edges of the party once more.
What you had not expected was the number of guests that would be attending said banquet. Evidently, neither had Zeus. One by one, you had watched the servants of Olympus get pulled from their original posts to act as cupbearers for the overwhelming throng of deities that had come to bask in the God King’s opulence. When they ran out of servants, they began to pull soldiers. And when they ran out of soldiers, well…
Needless to say, you had found yourself in a fate far worse than death—serving wine to major and minor gods like some sort of dainty little nymph.
If it would not be so horrifically disrespectful to your sovereign, you would have thrown yourself off the edge of the peak by now, your wings be damned. You doubted Zeus would have cared about you specifically, but if you damaged his reputation by making such a scene at his banquet? You doubted even the plane between the living and the dead could have separated you from the Thunder Bringer’s wrath.
Speaking of making a scene, it seemed like some of the banquet guests did not have the same wisdom nor foresight that you did. You saw a wave of commotion ripple through the crowd and after depositing your tray on a nearby table, you made your way past the raucous gods and goddesses all the way to the source. At the center of the drunken horde, you came across one of the palace servants held at the wrist by some minor earth god whose name you could not be bothered to remember. He was yelling obscenities at her, barely intelligible through his pronounced slurring. The servant cowered under him, only tearing her eyes away from his enraged face to scan the crowd with a fearful and pleading look.
As soon as you locked eyes with the poor nymph, your body moved as if on instinct. Before you knew it, you had the minor god with his face pressed against the gilded pavement, his arm bent painfully backwards in your firm grasp. “Y-you!” the earth god shouted, his voice muted beneath his smushed cheek. “Get off me, you feathered wretch!”
You clicked your tongue at him and only pressed your foot deeper between his shoulder blades. “You dare to disrespect the King of the Gods with this disruption?” you hissed, twisting the god’s arm even further. He winced in pain then opened his mouth to retort, surely to call you every name in the scrolls, but was interrupted by the booming sound of deep, reverberant laughter.
“It would be in your best interest to listen to the harpy, my dear guest,” Zeus chided as he approached. The crowd went silent, each and every onlooker holding their breath in anticipation. You felt the god begin to shake violently in your hold and you released him, just managing to refrain from spitting on him as you stepped back and took your place behind your King. The earth god scrambled onto his hands and knees, spinning to bow at Zeus’ feet. From his mouth, epithets and apologies flowed forth like a dam burst until finally Zeus lifted his right foot and tucked the strap of his sandal under the lesser god’s chin.
With a flick of his ankle, he forced the god’s attention upward and regarded him with a baleful smile. “Since this is a party and I’d hardly want to ruin the mood, you may have my mercy—for now. Do try to mind your manners, though. Well-” Zeus tilted his head and you watched on, your lips curling downward into a grimace as lighting danced between his golden, textured strands. “You best do more than just try.”
Zeus lowered his foot and stepped back, leaving the god to offer one last pathetic croak of gratitude before stumbling to his hands and knees and all but sprinting away. You relaxed with a small sigh only to tense all over again when you caught Zeus looking at you over his shoulder. “Well done,” he praised with a mirthful chuckle. “Impressive moves you got there, little one.” You bowed at the waist, only lifting your head when you felt his hand on your arm, so large that his fingertips almost reached the base of your right wing. “Now then, back to work! These guests won’t serve themselves!”
Zeus laughed, larger than life and just as deafening, before releasing you and striding off toward a gaggle of sea goddesses who immediately began giggling amongst themselves. You straightened your back and inhaled deeply through your nose, your muscles already spasming with frustrated tension. With a slow, measured exhale, you rolled your shoulders and returned to the table to retrieve your tray.
No sooner had you picked up the platter and loaded two flutes onto it than you were interrupted by another voice, this one entirely unfamiliar to you:
“Our magnanimous king wasn’t wrong. You sure know how to put on a show, sweetheart.”
You turned to find a god sauntering over to you with a confident, sultry sway of his hips. His tanned skin contrasted well with his fluffy, sandy blond hair and his purple himation; though, for a himation, you would hardly classify it as a garment—after all, it failed to cover much of anything. The god’s torso was exposed for the entirety of Olympus to see, from his toned chest all the way down to the dip of his pelvis. To complete his flamboyant ensemble, he wore several pieces of fine jewelry and had a leopard’s pelt draped over his shoulders, topped off with grape leaves and an unmistakable golden laurel.
You had never heard this god’s voice before, but you sure as hell knew who you were looking at.
“Thank you, Lord Dionysus,” you bowed, bringing your free hand to rest diagonally across your chest. “I am honored to receive your praise.”
Dionysus threw his head back and laughed, and while it too sounded larger than life, his laughter was far smoother than Zeus’ had been. It was melodic, rich in tone yet somehow airy at the same time, and it was unmistakably jovial in the way that only the God of Wine and Festivity’s laughter could be. “Proper little thing, aren’t ya?” he teased, righting himself. “What a cutie~”
“I-I beg your pardon, my lord?” you sputtered, your voice jumping an octave before you could wrangle it back under control. Your eyes went wide as an unfamiliar heat crept up your face. Were you…were you blushing? Gods above and around, you couldn’t recall the last time you had ever, had ever…blushed.
Dionysus smirked at you, his eyes crinkling smugly beneath his long dark lashes. “I called you cute, wings,” he chuckled. “This is the part where you say, ‘thank you’.”
You blinked a few times, still flabbergasted that a major god like Dionysus was exchanging more than a few words with you, much less complimenting you. Not on your skill, not on your technique, but your appearance of all things. Eventually, you were able to break out of your stupor enough to form a somewhat coherent response. “I, uh… t-thank you, my lord. You are too kind.”
Dionysus hummed amusedly, that smirk still plastered firmly upon his face. “And you are far too rigid for this kind of party. It wouldn’t kill ya to loosen up a little. Especially since you finally get to join us in the heart of it all and instead of being stuck patrolling the outskirts with that longing stare of yours.”
Now that gave you pause. This was the first banquet you had served as a cupbearer, but it was hardly the first banquet you had been on duty. Just as Dionysus said, your role had typically been to stand watch over the perimeter or to deal with the occasional rowdy guest. You were no stranger to these soirées, but you certainly considered yourself a stranger to their guests. So then how did Dionysus know you were a guard?
Dionysus watched the confusion twist your features with a self-satisfied purse of his lips. “C’mon, birdie—ya think I haven’t been to enough of these things to recognize a familiar face?” he teased. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen you in action either. Such graceful footwork…shame you waste it on tackling brutes when you could be out there dancing instead.”
The god before you pressed his bent wrist to his forehead with a wistful sigh and, had it not been for how severely he outranked you, you may have even scoffed. Dancing, like some court charlatan, when you had a job to do? When you had beings of unquantifiable importance to protect? Perish the damn thought. Nevermind how fun it looked, twirling around through the crowd, weaving between the clamoring bodies to the lively beat of the drum and the bright strum of the lyre? No you…that kind of life was not meant for you. You were not meant for it. You were a warrior, a faithful servant, and it was about time Dionysus remembered that and stopped wasting his time and yours.
“I am perfectly happy with my responsibilities, my lord,” you asserted with a tight, thin lipped smile. Dionysus stilled, scrutinizing your face as if to pierce through to your innermost thoughts with his stare alone. The feeling of being studied, perceived, intensely unnerved you, but you tightened your smile even further and raised your tray toward him nonetheless. “Why don’t you go ahead and get back to the dance floor, Lord Dionysus?” you deflected, offering the flutes to him. “There are plenty of guests here who would make great dance partners.”
For once, the smirk that was practically etched onto his divine, annoyingly pretty face almost seemed to falter. Still, he finally reached out and took the flutes off of your platter. You nodded at him respectfully, prepared to turn back around and refill your supply. You did a double take, however, as Dionysus casually lifted both of his arms and bent his elbows back, flinging the nectar from the glasses. The golden liquid hit the ground with an audible ‘splash’ and your jaw followed before you could stop it, your widened eyes flitting rapidly between the marble slabs and Dionysus’ pleased face.
“Oh don’t look too distraught, sweetie,” Dionysus quipped. “That stuff was no better than juice—in comparison to what I can provide, that is.”
He shifted to hold both flutes in his left hand and, with his right one now free, rolled his wrist in a small circle. Along with the motion, a streak of light filled the air, spiraling into a singular point and depositing a large golden goblet filled to the brim with a bubbling purple liquid. Dionysus then lifted the cup high over his head and poured the wine into the empty flutes with an elegant flourish. And he had said you knew how to put on a show.
You gave him a smile that you hoped didn’t look as terse as it felt, resisting the urge to applaud sarcastically. Eventually, you decided on a polite dip of your head, prepared to get back to your duties and let him get back to partying. However, when you lifted your gaze, you were shocked to find Dionysus was holding one of the flutes out to you, waving it back and forth enticingly. You stared at the cup with one brow raised before your gaze shifted to focus on the god behind it with his playful, ever-present smirk.
“Your offer is generous, Lord Dionysus,” you attested, evenly as you could with your patience waning, “but I must apologize for having to decline. Cupbearers are not allowed to take part in any libations—they are only to be enjoyed by guests.” You steeled your resolve, readying yourself to deflect any further insistence on Dionysus’ part. You expected a disappointed shrug, an offended glare, or perhaps even a few berating words.
What you should have expected was that Same. Damn. Smirk.
“Well,” he began, his voice low and inviting as he looked you up and down, “then consider yourself my guest for this evening, yeah?”
You felt your jaw tense, gritting your teeth behind what you hoped was a relatively neutral expression. “I…cannot abandon my post, Lord Dionysus,” you reiterated. Were you not keen on attracting attention by prolonging your interactions with the literal life of the party? Absolutely. Were you afraid of incurring Zeus’s ire, an ire which there was no chance in Elysium you’d survive? Undoubtedly so. But perhaps even more so than all of that, you simply didn’t know how to ‘loosen up a little’. And while you would always pride yourself on your discipline, you weren’t entirely sure at this point that you didn’t want to learn…
Unfortunately, Dionysus had picked up on your hesitation. Out of the blue, his eyes shone with a particular glint and before you knew it he was upon you. He walked you down, stalking toward you like a leopard who knew its kill was secured, flutes still in hand and a knowing smile upon his face. You lifted your empty tray in a feeble attempt to create space between you and your aggressor, praying your silver shield would be enough to fend off his effortless, persuasive charisma. Before you knew it, you found yourself at a pillar, back pressed against it with the uncharacteristically naive hope that you would melt into it and escape his smug stare and even more smug smirk. But alas, all you did was give him a surface to lean against as he towered over you, making you feel smaller than any cyclops or chimera ever had.
“C’mon, birdie,” he murmured, gentle and soft as if speaking to a cornered animal (which you very much were). “You’ve battled more monsters and miscreants than I could count, I’m sure. Is the big, bad harpy really this scared of dancing with me?” Against all odds, trapped between Dionysus’ toned bicep and his tilted head, you were scared. You were scared of your racing heart, your sweaty palms, and the flustered way he was making you feel. You were scared of the side of you he was bringing out, a side you never knew existed, and you almost felt like you were going mad.
Dionysus leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear as he chuckled. “I promise…I’ll take care of ya, sweetheart. So why don’t you relax and have some fun for once?” He pulled back, just enough for you to look him right in his lidded eyes, and you swallowed hard as you finally remembered how to breathe. He waited there in that same position, not advancing but also not letting you retreat, and patiently looked you up and down as his smirk grew wider and wider in the prolonged silence.
Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you were indeed a warrior through and through. You may not have had a damn clue about what you were about to get into, but damn it all if you were going to back down from this cocky bastard of god and his stupid challenge. You eyed the flute in his left hand and swiftly swiped it from his grasp, surprising him just enough for him to step away and give you space to throw your head back and down the wine in one go.
The cup now empty, you snapped forward and wiped the trickling liquid with your forearm, staring Dionysus down with a fire in your eyes as you finally, finally got to see that damn smirk all off his face. But of course, it was back before you knew it, a playful, fae-like sparkle dancing in his gaze.
“‘Atta girl.”
With that, Dionysus grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the center of the banquet, his laughter so jovial and infectious that soon enough, you found yourself laughing right along with him.
“That’s what I like to hear.” That time, you knew his smile must have been genuine. “I’ll begin counting down now, pet. Set the shell down by your ear, I want you to use both of your hands for this—you’ve earned it. But you will not come until I say so. Understood?”
“Understood, sire.”
“That’s my good girl.”
With one last seductive chuckle, Poseidon began counting:
(NSFW Content under the cut, minors dni.
tw// dom/sub, degradation, slightly dub con)
“Ten. You may begin now, you have my permission. Just that word alone and you can already feel the pressure building again, can’t you? Go on, rub that swollen clit of yours.”
“Nine. Keep going, little siren. Use your other hand and slip your fingers inside for me, won’t you? Pump them in and out—I want to hear how wet you are for me.”
“Eight. Is it getting too hard, pet? You want to come so badly, don’t you?”
“Seven. But you won’t. You won’t because your god hasn’t told you to yet. You’re such a good little servant.”
“Six. Your greedy little cunt hasn’t even had enough yet, I’m sure. Come on, you can keep going, you can keep going just for me.
“Five. Halfway there, sweet one. There there, that’s it. Give me more.”
-
Want him to count you the rest of the way down? Then head on over to AO3 for the final part of my threeshot!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I need to stop writing such description heavy chapters, they always take me so damn long. It's a good thing the central plot point of this installment isn't creating an intricate woven tapestry that is supposed to capture the beauty of Poseidon's domain ahahahahahahaha (i'm so sorry)
Anyways, to make up for the wait, have a fic preview with some flirty banter under the cut lol.
-Click on the banner below to read on AO3-
“I am almost positive that you specifically said you would be honored to be my guide yesterday, my lord,” you recalled with a playful sneer. Poseidon stopped beside you and spun on his heels to loom over your form, an equally playful glint in his glare. You found yourself swallowed up in his shadow, the air chilling just enough for you to feel your hairs stand on end—at least, that’s why you told yourself your arms had erupted in goose flesh.
“Did I, now?” Poseidon teased. “Are you sure your memory isn’t failing you, pet?” He placed his hand atop your headband as he said this before slowly stroking down the side of your face to cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch and uncrossed your arms, placing your fingers on his forearm as he lifted his free hand to snake around your waist.
“I would hope not, sire,” you hummed, letting your gaze drop to his lips before returning to his striking blue eyes. “How else would I be able to incorporate all of this into your tribute?”
Poseidon’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle that you could almost feel in your bones. “All of this, dear one?” he crooned, pulling you further into his chest as he moved to tilt your chin up with a single finger. You leaned forward onto your toes and your sandals dug into the firm earth beneath you, the long blades of grass tickling the tops of your feet.
“Perhaps some parts can stay between us,” you whispered, drawing ever closer to your god and his gorgeous face. His lips quirked upward into a sultry smirk and the warmth of his breath spread across your cheeks as he exhaled through his nose. Though you had moved further inland, the briney scent of the ocean had followed its master, enveloping your senses and transporting you back into the embrace of his infinite domain. You slid your fingers down the smooth skin of his forearm and back up toward his shoulder, relishing in the toned feeling of his bicep as your palm passed over the band tattooed around it. You lifted your opposite hand and placed it on Poseidon’s hip, earning you an amused huff as you gripped the curve of his pelvis through the finely woven linen of his chiton. Poseidon shifted to hold your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, gradually pulling you toward him as your eyes began to flutter closed.
Your burgeoning moment of intimacy was cut short by the sound of movement coming from the treeline, much to your chagrin. Poseidon released you at breakneck speed, standing tall and alert with his right arm flexed at his side. You instinctively stepped behind him as your muscles tensed in anticipation. The air fell still until all at once, the bushes parted and three figures hurtled towards you both, a blur of pastel shades and sparkles.
“King Poseidon!”
-Read the rest here-
✨Guess who's finally trying to learn how to format things on this site✨
Summary: Poseidon returns home after his trip to Ithaca and finds his beloved Amphitrite waiting for him. Set directly after the events of -Hook, Line, & Sinker-
Pairings: Poseidon x Amphitrite, mentioned Poseidon x reader
Word Count: 811
Notes: Look who’s trying to learn how to make things look cool on this site lol. Quick little one-shot (drabble? I actually don’t know what the word count threshold is) for y’all because dammit I love how I wrote Amphy and want to put her in everything now. ((Edit: forgot to mention, but I’ll be posting the next installment later this evening :) click the link above to catch up now!))
Line divider by @vibeswithrenai found here
When Poseidon set foot back in Aegae, there was a notable bounce to each of his steps. His shoulders hung at ease below his ears, his back tall yet relaxed. He hummed quietly to himself as he made his way down the halls, a subdued yet jovial tune. When he arrived at the double doors of his quarters, he did so with a content smile that seemed to cast a soft glow over his whole face. A content smile which, upon seeing his wife beaming at him from their bed, fell into a thin, impartial line.
Amphitrite was dressed in her nightgown, the mint-tinted silk swaying back and forth like water as she languidly kicked her legs behind her. She lay on her stomach, head tilted and propped up by her bent elbows. Her long hair cascaded down around her, as blue and brilliant as the Aegean Sea, framing the smirk upon her plump lips and the glint in her aquamarine eyes. “Soooooooo,” she sang, smirk widening into a grin, “how did it go?”
Poseidon maintained his icy stare, his neutral expression morphing into a glower. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, stomping over to the corner of their room to shed his chiton for a simple silk loincloth. Amphitrite followed him with her eyes, shifting to rest her head on her arm as he rounded the bed.
“Don’t avoid my question,” she returned. Poseidon turned to glare at her over his shoulder and Amphitrite raised a playful brow in reply. He held her stare for sometime, but she narrowed her eyes at him in challenge and Poseidon finally broke.
“I have endured enough prodding for one day, woman,” he huffed, turning to walk toward her. “Let me rest.”
“I’m sorry-” Amphitrite scoffed, pushing herself off the bed to sit upright. “‘Woman’? You want to try that again, my love?”
Poseidon rolled his eyes with a heavy exhale and plopped down onto their mattress, swiveling at the waist to cup his wife’s cheeks. “Woman of the Golden Spindle, Queen of All Waters, My Wonderful, Eternal Partner-”
He peppered Amphitrite’s face with kisses in between each title, adding a few more in for good measure until her scowl was replaced with giggles. “Okay, okay,” she finally laughed, “you are forgiven. Save it for the girl, smooth talker.” Poseidon pulled away from his wife just in time to catch her smug expression, one which she accentuated with a wink. “Seeing as you’re still in the mood to joke around, I take it things went well?”
Poseidon let out a wistful, relieved sigh despite himself. “That would be a fair summary,” he confirmed. Amphitrite regarded him with affection, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and encouraging him to rest his head in her lap. He did as such, relaxing into the cool silk of her gown as she raked her fingers along his scalp.
“And you feel better now?” she further coaxed. “No more regrets?”
Poseidon hummed thoughtfully, reflecting on his evening. Memories of tender smiles and seductive songs flowed through his mind and he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face. “No, not one.”
Amphitrite snorted and gently maneuvered his head until he was looking straight up at her with his dark locks splayed over her thighs. She laid the back of her hand against his forehead and he shot her a puzzled look. “Goodness, that weaver really did a number on you,” she eventually mused. “Who is this cheery man resting in my lap? Where is the coldness? The brooding? Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”
“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” Poseidon drawled, eyebrows raised over his unamused stare. Amphitrite chuckled at him before bending over to press a kiss into his forehead.
“I’m happy for you, my stallion,” she beamed. “You deserve this.”
Poseidon caught her behind the neck as she retreated, pulling her back down to capture her lips in a loving kiss. “Thank you, my muse,” he cooed when they parted. “I have you to thank for giving me the push I needed.”
“You’re damn right you do,” she affirmed with a pinch to his cheek. Poseidon chuckled and rose from her lap, beckoning her over to lay with him at the head of their canopied bed. Amphitrite followed suit and rested her ear against his bare chest, letting him wrap his arms around her in a secure embrace.
“You know,” he began after a few shared moments of comfortable silence. “I think you’d like her.”
Amphitrite tilted her chin up to catch the corner of his gaze. “Oh yeah? Am I finally going to get the chance to meet a mortal paramour of yours?” she inquired.
Poseidon kissed the top of her head, hiding his smitten grin in the waves of her hair. “You just might, my love. You just might.”
Alright, this time I mean it. The second installment of my Poseidon x Reader fic is complete at long last. I am exhausted and used up all my good words on this damn 9.6k word-long chapter, so no fun preamble this time, but a fun little nsfw excerpt for ya below the cut:
“Are you done recovering yet, little siren?” he inquired. The texture of his tone was rough and resonant, his modulation monotonous as if strained. “Because it is taking all of my willpower not to fuck you right now.”
You pulled back to look at him properly and found your god with furrowed brows and a deep scowl. His expression was severe, jaw held tight and eyes burning with desire—with yearning. One look at Poseidon’s face and you could have told how badly he wanted you without him saying a word. The thought filled you with a daring confidence and you could not resist the urge to exploit the power you found in your hands.
“How could anyone recover from such a divine experience so quickly, my lord?” You pouted at him and crossed your wrists behind his head, tilting your head innocently. Poseidon glared at you, easily seeing through your ruse.
“Cute,” he deadpanned. “Get in the water, pet.”
“I fear I need more time to catch my breath, sir,” you sniffled. Poseidon growled at you and his hands fell to your hips, gripping them in warning.
“If you have enough breath to be such an insufferable brat,” he seethed, “then you have more than enough to get in the damn water. I will not repeat myself again, shrimp.”
“My lord,” you hummed, trying desperately to keep the smile out of your voice, “you know I would die for you. But can’t you let me stay dry?”
Clearly you had pushed Poseidon as far as he would allow...
Allow Me One More Surprise... (EPIC!Poseidon Fic Update)
OH LORD WE'RE BACK AHHHHHHH
Man writer's block hit like a truck. BUT we did finally manage to get Chapter 7 of SiSeSo finished! If you've ever looked at your screen while reading a fic and gone "Your honor, they're IDIOTS" then well, aha, I think you'll enjoy this chapter (or hate it jsjsjsjs).
As usual, fic preview below the cut, and click on the banner to read on AO3! I hope y'all enjoy today's upload!
Banner taken from @kirstenly's lovely art for the fic!
Line divider by @/vibeswithrenai found here
It isn’t until your last question that Poseidon finally snapped out of whatever trance he had been in. “What was that project Aphrodite was talking about?” you inquired, your curiosity genuine.
“Hm?” Poseidon hummed in an unusually vacant manner. “Oh. That. Well…allow me one more surprise, pet.”
Despite your current state of embarrassment, it was simply not in your nature to turn down such an easy invitation for some sass. You turned to your side to shoot Poseidon a playful glare, one eyebrow cocked high on your forehead. “So you get to have two surprises—three if you include the new clothing—and I get to have one?” you challenged. “Doesn’t seem very fair, my lord.”
Poseidon chuckled at you, more light returning to his eyes as a fire blazed behind them. “Are you complaining that your god is showering you with tokens of his affection, dear one? Shall I take some of them back?” He walked closer to you as he said this, the edges of his robes brushing against your hip while he bent at the waist to be closer to your ear. “As stunning as your new ensemble is,” he mused, running his fingers along the hem of your himation, “I do so prefer you without all of this on…”
You snapped your chin sharply downward from its haughty position, your sardonic tone overtaken by shyness. “T-that won’t be necessary, my lord,” you stuttered. “I do not mean to sound ungrateful.” Gods, as many times as Poseidon had initiated your more intimate encounters, you weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to his effortless flirtation in that lower register of his.
“I’m just curious,” you continued after clearing your throat. “This is the second time I’ve heard about this project of yours and I still haven’t the faintest clue what it could be.” You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not quite brave enough to scrutinize him outright but also not willing to miss out on his answer.
Poseidon caught your gaze with a taunting smirk. “Then it seems the surprise is being well kept,” he insisted. “I don’t see any issues here.”
You pouted at him. You pouted at him and crossed your arms with a disdainful huff. Perhaps it was childish, but you didn’t care. Posiedon was being so difficult, so secretive, so smug, and it was driving you mad. “Can I at least know where we’re going next?” you bemoaned, rolling your eyes back along with your head to glare at him.
Poseidon narrowed his eyes at you and you swore you must have been hallucinating for a moment. You almost thought you had perceived the faintest hint of a blush? As quickly as it had been there, the color seemed to disappear from his cheeks as they lifted upward with another self-satisfied smile. “So many questions, pet. Isn’t it more exciting to wait and see?” His tutting was met with an even more petulant look on your part. “Fine, fine,” he acquiesced, lifting his hands in patronizing surrender. “The day is nearly done, so I’m taking you to the heart of the island now. There’s one last spot that I think you’ll find quite inspiring.”
While it was hardly an elucidating reply, it was also the first straightforward answer Poseidon had given you. You sighed defeatedly, mimicking Poseidon’s conciliatory gesture from before. “Well, I shall prepare to be inspired then,” you gumbled sarcastically. Poseidon smiled at you with a look that was somehow both taunting and tender before extending his hand towards yours with an inviting raise of his brow.
You prayed to the goddess you just met that Poseidon couldn’t feel how sweaty your palm was as he led you further into the jungle under the warm rays of the setting sun.
psst...i think the next chapter is gonna be the smut...
How would your character say “I love you” without using those words? (EPIC: Poseidon Drabble)
My friends and I just wrapped a session of a creative writing exercise where we only have 5 minutes to write for a prompt and I ended up writing some really sappy shit centered around my EPIC fic that I was actually pretty proud of :) No cut this time cause it's pretty short:
It was quiet offerings left on the shore. It was the starfish woven into every design. It was the best fruits from her market haul left on the altar by her gorgeous tapestry, warmed by the hearth.
It was shy glances and small smiles. It was epithet after epithet, each one more obscure than the last. It was the way she cradled the shell close to her as she drifted off to sleep.
It was the gentle patterns she would trace into his chest after they had lain together, whether going at it like fervent animals or making love like it was her last day. It was the way she would sing to him, not with the seductive siren song he so loved, but with her voice. Her high notes and stunning vibrato. It was all the things that were uniquely her, things that she would show no one else—mortal and divine alike.
She would never say she loved him. Not in that way. It was something that bordered far too close to sacrilege, to the hubris so frowned upon by mankind and their fragile cities of stone and prose. She would never say something so audacious, despite her audacity in every other facet of her fleeting yet memorable life.
But Poseidon knew. He knew when she curled into his side, when they floated amongst his domain together, and when they bantered for hours just to enjoy each other’s company.
His little siren would never say that she loved him. But in a thousand ways and more, she showed him the depth of her adoration and then some.
