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hansolen · 5 months

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one more love song?

pairing ⇾ luke castellan x hades’ daughter reader (gendered stuff isn’t mentioned anywhere in the post so it can be read as gn)

word count ⇾ 3k

summary ⇾ luke is a simp, tries to confess, you guys share earphones and sit near the lake at night. the moon loves you 🫶

author’s note ⇾ so most of this is just happened to be written as luke admiring the reader rather than what i was actually going to go for, but i’m really happy with how it turned out :) hope you enjoy it as well 💌 wrote this all in one setting. when inspo hits.. it hits like a truck 🚛 this one is for my quiet people, and maybe a little self indulgent. guilty as charged your honour. no use of y/n.

you had a thing for luke castellan, and he had a thing for you too. it was no secret to anyone. but none of the other campers understood why you both preferred to dance around each other’s feelings rather than addressing them. even though everyone could feel the immense tension you both carried around whenever you were near each other, no one chose to mention it. it would be like taking a gun and pointing the muzzle right at ones own head — it was a death sentence really, hearing you both deny it. so they all just went along with ignoring it like you both pretended to do.

you were the daughter of hades, the king of the underworld and part of the trinity. that definitely added a little intimidation to your already mysterious aura. luke on the other hand was a possessive guy, even if he didn’t show it. sure, he was extremely confident, and even a little egotistical - yes, but all for the right reasons of course (as per him). but he was possessive nonetheless. that’s why it killed him inside each day that he couldn’t call you his, and himself as yours.

he really didn’t like anyone else approaching you with any unwanted intentions. though, don't get him wrong, he's well aware that you could protect yourself. hell, you could protect the entire camp just by yourself alone, but still — he felt a pang of jealously whenever some apollo’s kid talked with you for too long. or when your discussions with some guy from the hephaestus’ cabin were too long. he knew that you guys were just discussing your plans for some of their inventions and how you could help by designing their ideas into structural sketches. afterall, you were good with sketches, a hobby of yours, those from cabin 9 made sure to utilise to their fullest. even though he knew it all, he still felt some unwanted feelings swirl inside him.

he wanted to confess to you, oh he wanted to do that so badly. but he just didn't know how to.. you didn't seem the kind who’d like the usual route. for the sake of olympus itself - you didn’t even send him any signs, other than meeting back his longing gaze with just as much passion. he knew there had to be something between you two. there’s no way it could be all in his head.

but you — you never tried to make the first move, shit, you didn’t make any moves at all. and luke knows he’s a confident guy, he knows he’s amazing and all that glory speech he gives around to the new comers but oh you. you just make him rethink it all. he doesn’t know how to act around you - he feels so different around you.

as if you put some kind of spell on him that makes him loose this carefully handcrafted personality, his façade. and he's back to being the kid he was - just trying to prove himself somehow in some way. but at least you never abandoned him.. nor did you ever make him feel unwanted. unlike his.. his dad. he doesn’t need to impress you, you’ve made that clear with your actions. but still he - he really wants to.

𓇚

he recalls back when you still pretended to be unclaimed and stayed at the hermes cabin. though later on (like a whole month later) everyone found out that you knew your dad was hades and you shifted to the newly made hades cabin. it happened in such a funny manner where you stated it to the suprised chiron like it was just another fun fact about you. totally not some very critical and important information. camp half-blood having a kid of one of the three and not just any but of hades, who was always so adamant on not sending his kids to camp that the gods had an entire incident regarding it. but here you were.

anyway that’s not the point. he just really liked you and had felt a pull towards you since the beginning. he observed you from afar during your first few weeks at camp. when it was your third week at camp and you had developed the constant habit of staying up every night and sneaking out. he followed, ofcourse he was just being a good head counselor. afterall till you were in the hermes cabin you were someone he had to make sure followed the rules or whatever. he didn’t care for that much, he just wanted to know what you were always up to.

you always hid away by the time he followed you out. he had made sure that this week, this day, he’d finally follow you without you hiding away in the shadows. of course you weren’t dumb either. you could feel another shadow added to the ones you were controlling, and you felt like having a little fun with the castellan boy. so you let him follow you. (and luke found out about that fact weeks later, and safe to say he was annoyed that he wasn’t slick enough. though he got back on you, he showed you just how smooth he could be during sword fighting practice. spoiler: by the end of the match you were under him with a sword pressed on your neck and his smirk making you feel things.)

back to what happened on your third week at camp - as he followed you he realised you were headed towards the lake. oh so this was your favourite spot. he looked at you from afar, you looked breathtaking.

the moonlight shined on your figure sitting by the lake. you were probably listening to some music, since you had your earphones in.

he held his breath, he wanted to carve this scene in his memory forever. you truly looked like a goddess, the serene view and a serene beauty (you). a perfect combination indeed.

after giving himself some pep talk mentally and encouraging himself to actually go to you, he finally did. and oh boy was he glad he did - because that was the start of your friendship, and something more.

he still fondly remembers how you smiled when he finally came and sat beside you.

“finally came out of your hiding spot, castellan?” you said in a light tone. “you knew?” he asked suprised, but not really. “i know everything that goes in the shadows.” you said and smiled while taking off one earphone and handing it out to him. he took it gratefully.

that day you shared an earphone with him and in return took a piece of his heart with you.

that was the beginning of whatever the hell was going on between you and luke castellan. he understood later on what you had meant by the shadows comment when a week later you had casually revealed who your father was and shifted cabins, much to luke’s displeasure.

but you guys remained friends nonetheless and continued to keep each other company on moonlit nights.

𓇚

he still remembers when you first came to camp. you were so eerily quiet. your presence drew him to you like a moth to a flame. your eyes felt like they held galaxies and whenever you met his gaze he felt his heart could explode. though you didn't smile often, but oh god’s when you did grin at some stupid lame joke he made, or when something silly happened, he just found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with you.

though he notices. he notices how you keep your smiles to yourself and put a hand over your mouth whenever you do laugh. the reason? he truly doesn’t understand. because why in the world would you do that? you’re the most gorgeous being to have graced this earth, why would you not let him get addicted to your smiles and the sound of your melodious laughter which is sweet like nectar and has the warmth of ambrosia. as he knew it was a rare sight, he made sure to capture the memory to replay it in his head whenever he misses you.

you're so beautiful to him and your presence is so comforting. the deathly touch your aura carries has makes it all the more breathtaking. oh he's in it bad. he knows it.

𓇚

both your secret meet ups began increasing as weeks went by. you both talked about everything under the sun (or the moon, in your case). and even though you weren’t much of a talker when you were in groups during the day, luke felt glad that atleast when you were with him you spoke your heart out.

you made him feel so much at ease. even with all his responsibilities at camp and his plans.. and everything else that eats up his soul — in moments such as these, he feels like just another teenage boy. not the kid who got abandoned by his parents, not the teenager who had to protect his friends and had to prove something to the gods, not the head counselor and the greatest swordsman to have been in 300 hundred years, but just- just another teenage boy, a boy in love. oh he loved you. so much.

and that's why he decided he was finally going to confess to you tonight. he was going to set up a beautiful moment and hold your hand while looking in your eyes and confess how much he adores you and finally ask you to be his.

he felt a little nervous, which is so unlike him. c’mon, he has fought innumerable monsters and survived so many deathly quests, how is finally telling you what he’s been wanting to since forever making him more nervous than either of those situations? oh the things you do to him..

when he reached there you were already sitting near the lake at your favourite spot. as soon as he came closer, you turned your head towards him with a soft smile and said, “hey you” “hey me” he replied. he doesn’t miss the way you put an automatic smile on his face, as he sits beside you. you both sit in comfortable silence, your bodies making contact from the shoulders. neither of you move away, finding comfort in one another’s presence and touch.

being a demigod was.. anything but a normal experience to say the least. but finding someone who makes you feel.. more closer to the human part of yourself was something not everyone could find. but you both were so glad you did with one another.

as moments passed by, luke felt you lean your head on his shoulder. he relaxed into your touch as he looked down at your face to find your eyes closed. he knew you weren’t sleeping, just resting. he found himself forming a small smile as he looked at you.

then he started, ��you know, i wanted to tell you something today.” you hummed in response waiting for him to continue. “i..” he felt his throat dry up. it’s always so easy to talk to you, so why is it that right now he feels unable to form words? your presence is always so calm and serene so why does his heart feel like it’s going a million miles per hour?

“hey.. hey look at me” you said in your calm voice as you softly held his face. he met your eyes, and oh he swears he could just get lost in the galaxy that lays within your eyes. you look at him with you sweet smile and say, “you can tell me anything, you know?” “i know.” his reply is almost immediate. you just smile at that “then go on”.

he closes his eyes to compose himself. he knows that he doesn’t need to pretend with you. but he also wants to tell you everything he feels for you and how you’ve taken all over his body, mind and soul. but he can’t formulate them into words. he just— “i love you too castellan.” “what” “what? you were trying to confess right? i only helped you.” you said smiling softly at him. “i.. well i..” he was dumbfounded. he had thought of so many ways this would probably go and the many ways he could say it but you.. you said it first.

“is that a pout?” you ask with a giggle. he feigns offense, “i do not pout.” “oh that was definitely a pout.” you teased. “it wasn't.” “oh it so was.” he rolls his eyes. “whatever. i just wanted to make it romantic or something i don't know. i mean i even got you a cassette tape with songs i dedicated to you and—” “you dedicated songs to me? and got them in a cassette tape? how even- when did you get the time to get that done? did you go out of camp for-” you said suprise clear in your voice but he interrupted you. “well obviously i dedicate songs to you infact they were so many that i had to choose the best of the best. and how i got the cassette and the player is just part of the trade secrets, darling.” he winked. and you just giggled and kissed him.

luke had imagined kissing you before, but it was never as close to the real deal. he was addicted to say the least. your lips tasted so sweet and felt so soft. for being the kid with the aura of death, you sure brought back life to him.

by now you were on his lap with his arms wrapped around you. you both were just sitting on the grass and taking in each other's presence and feeling peaceful with how close your hearts were.

slowly you took out your earphones from your pocket and gave him one wire. “so, one more love song?”

author's note ⇾ aand that's the end haha. hope you liked it <3 this is my first fic ever like everr and i didn't even think i’d be able to write something that i would actually wanna post, but something in me lit up when i saw my favourite childhood book series was finally getting the adaptation it deserved and then this came out of it <3 would love to know your thoughts on it.

#𓇚 kalopsia #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson #🏹 acara writes #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan x y/n #percy series #percy jackon and the olympians #charlie bushnell #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo

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star-girl69 · 4 months

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As much as I love overprotective Clarisse which believe me I DO😍😍 am I the only one who kinda wants to see a protective reader if something happens to Clarisse or even Ivy?!

I feel like Clarisse may just sit back and be Yh that’s my girl 🤭

Literally kicking my feet and giggling while writing this

Also I love your writing so much it’s so goodddd I check my phone for any new posts all the time and scream when you do

TYSMMMMM BAE ILY!!!!!! been in a writing slump recently. someone else please write a mind bogglingly good clarisse fic to inspire me again. lord give me strength…

forget the fact this is 2 days late. thank y’all 🙏🙏

anyways officially adding danny to the perfect family bc I DO WHAT I WANT!!!!!!!!!!!

ok so imagine this

clarisse is participating in some sort of contest

idk roman gladiators LMAOOOO

but basically it’s like a big tournament? and yk she’s destroying eating it up cooking, whatever you will

finally she gets to like the semi-finals and atp everyone kinda knows she has it in the bag

her opponents are scared

(trust an underground betting ring was formed. everyone who bet on clarisse is thanking the gods and everyone who didn’t is shaking in their boots)

clarisse is happy bc you and the twins (danny and ivy)

are sitting right in the front row cheering her on

and she got a wonderful good luck kiss from you

so not only is she happy and thinking about that but also she’s convinced that she’ll win just bc she got a kiss from you

so the fight starts, ivy is genuinely SCREECHING at the top of her lungs she’s so me she can’t be normal about anything ever

and you and danny are just regularly cheering for her 😭

eventually someone behind you tells ivy to shut up

YOU WHIP AROUND BC WTF???

harshest death glare in the universe. like even zeus would be a little scared.

ivy doesn’t even notice she’s chill

the other person quickly shuts the fuck up.

then you turn back to watch clarisse and the fights just starting, the other dude is scared and knows his ass barely stands a chance

she’s having fun pummeling him

ugh fight scenes are hard to write

so eventually she tosses his ass to the floor

“GO MOM GO GO GO BEAT HIS ASS MOM BEAT. HIS. ASS.”

“IVY STOP FUCKING SWEARING”

and this dude, who’s laid on the ground, who knows he’s cooked, decides the best option is to grab some dirt and throw it in clarisse’s face

and no one was prepared for this

like clarisse was standing over him with her spear at his throat, smile on her face, everyone knew he was done for- THEN HE DECIDES TO PLAY DIRTY AND DO THIS???

like everyone thought clarisse had it in the bag

the rules for this competition were that you’re not allowed to use anything but your person and/or pre-approved weapon(s)

NOT EVEN CLARISSE WAS EXPECTING IT

SO SHES DISTRACTED BY THE FREAKING DIRT IN HER FACE

SO WHEN THIS BITCH KICKS HER SHE GOES DOWN

DEAD SILENT!!!!!!!

EVERYONE GASPS!!!!!!!

whispers in the crowd… “oh bro is cooked…”

(sorry i’m obsessed w saying cooked rn)

and he is cooked

but by someone unexpected.

clarisse is wiping the dirt off of her face swallowing her shame she can’t believe she got distracted and let herself fall she should have saw it coming but suddenly she hears someone screaming

she opens her eyes and sees you menacingly walking towards this dude, who’s still on the ground and scrambling away

and what’s funny it you’re yelling at him like a mother would

the crowd is giggling…

“THAT IS AGAINST THE RULES. WERE YOU NEVER TAUGHT MANNERS??? WERE YOU NEVER TAUGHT DECENCY??? SHAME ON YOU SHAME ON YOUR PARENTS SHAME SHAME SHAME”

clarisse is literally sitting there mouth dropped open when you grab his ear and he HOWLS

dragging him back towards clarisse, he’s kicking and screaming and literally CRYING

“HELP HELP HELP ME HELP SHE CANT SO THIS SHE CANT I DIDNT DO ANYTHING WRONG”

“YES THE FUCK I CAN YOU BROKE THE FUCKING RULES NOW APOLOGIZE YOU LAWLESS SWINE”

“I DIDNT DO ANYTHING PLEASE I DIDNT”

one of the apollo kids who organized the event is looking around (kinda enjoying it) but mostly very scared

“technically you did break the rules… sorry pal…”

“PLEASE PLEASE HELP ME”

obviously, this is the hottest thing clarisse has ever seen in her life.

she’s sitting back on her palms, watching in utter amazement, trying not to bite her lip

someone loving clarisse… that gets her going

someone loving clarisse enough to PROTECT HER??? she’s about to explode. EXPLODE. she’s never needed you so bad in her life LMAOOOO 😭

and this bitch is STILL refusing to apologize

like damn it’s not that hard… it’s not like you have any pride left to speak of you just got dragged around by the ear 😭😭 bro you’re cooked just apologize and get out while you can

AND YOU’RE GETTING FED UP WITH IT TOO

“hey, dumbass, why don’t you look at the stands?”

you point, and everyone follows your finger.

ivy is a literal cartoonish whirl of her pink t-shirt and the white shorts with the little trees on them

danny is holding her back (with ease, might i add he’s strong as fuck 💪)

“i’ll let her out.”

“I DIDNT DO ANYTHING-”

“LET HER OUT”

he barely escapes that attack.

when you finally call ivy off of her attack, she stands next to clarisse, literally growls at the dude, before hugging clarisse

clarisse is still on the ground in utter shock.

she can’t keep her eyes away from you and ivy. she can’t get rid of the GLOWING feeling in her chest

is this… what it’s like… to be loved?

WAHHHHHH WAHHHHHHHH BITCH NOW IM THE ONE CRYING NOOOOOOOO 😭😭😭

danny eventually walks over and helps her up

then they all watch as you smile sweetly at this very traumatized dude and ask if he’s ready to apologize

“IMMSORRUOHGOEE IMSORHR ESEBIMS YORUUE”

(i’m sorry oh gods im sorry i’m sorry”

then you walk over to clarisse, rolling your eyes and mumbling about bad parenting, girl she pounces on you.

kisses you so hard in front of everyone

ivy and danny are hugging each other and shielding each other’s eyes, screaming, begging for you two to stop

“y/n” she breathes as she pulls away “you are… the most amazing mother, the most amazing girlfriend, and literally the love of my fucking life.”

literally twirling your hair “omg baeeeee you’re too sweet 🤭”

(y’all don’t end up leaving her cabin for a LONG time.)

after this clarisse definitely sort of realizes a whole new side of your relationship. seeing you publicly defend her like that, publicly care about her, love her, omg she is going crazy for you!!!

after this incident she definitely stops calling you her gf.

gives you a really pretty ring she got one of the hephaestus kids to make, starts calling you her wife

and nobody better have a problem w that lol or else they got two ares killing machines, one feral attack dog, and a literal mother who is not afraid to drag you by your ear.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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thekissofaphrodite · 5 months

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SOMEONE REQUESTED THIS I CANT HELP TO MAKE IT!! IT'S SO SWEET!!

(I accidentally added the OG post on Queue and can't get it out, but thankfully, I took a picture of it)

Voiceless

Luke Castellan X Daughter of Apollo!Reader

Summary: The only thing that Luke Castellan loves in this world is his girlfriend and her angelic voice.

Warnings: Kissing, Cursing, Kinda toxic relationship??!

Author's Note: Hello guys! Another request for the day, I'm typing this on my phone since I forgot my laptop, Oh well, please forgive me for any grammatical mistakes and typos! My keyboard hates me 😍

——

The Camp Fire singalong ended an hour ago, but that didn't stop You and Luke, He had his head on your lap, breathing in and out as you ran your hands through his soft curls. The bonfire had little to no embers, but it still kept you two warm.

"Can you sing for me?" Luke whispered, His Hazel eyes met your brown ones. Apollo's children were always the lead singers from singalongs, Especially you, You had an angelic voice and campers liked it, so did Luke.

Not caring that your throat was a little sore, You nodded and started singing.

Boys, workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?

I just think about my baby

I'm so full of love I could barely eat

There's nothing sweeter than my baby

I'd never want once from the cherry tree

'Cause my baby's sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin' me

Flashback

Luke sat in the mess hall, His palm gingerly nursing the side of his cheeks, He had a rough day, Apparently, a new armour that like commissioned from one of the children in the hephaestus cabin still wasn't ready, and he wasn't able to use it. But it was Capture the Flag day, so he used his old and cranky armour, which displeased him.

You noticed from afar, Your halfsiblings chatting loudly, So you had enough, Grabbing your tray, you walked towards Luke, sitting on an empty Hermes table (Since his halfsiblings left, It's better to leave than to mess with an angry luke), The Hermes boy barely touched his food, he was rather poking it.

"Hey" He was greeted with your soft, melodic voice from behind, His mood changed from annoyed to cheerful. His eyes softening as he watched you sit beside him.

"Hm, how's your day?" He hummed whilst brushing a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

"I should be the one asking you that—" Then, He felt something touch his lips, It was your fork, with a slice of blueberry pie, He tasted some of the cream, He tried to fight the urge to open his mouth since he didn't feel like eating.

"C'mon, it's bad if you don't eat, You don't wanna end up in the infirmary with one of my halfsiblings ranting about your presence." He looked at your eyes, there was a glint of hope that he'll actually take a bite.

He can't resist your eyes, Those eyes with much hope looking at him.

So he did, He opened his mouth and let the flavours sink In.

He did eat that night, with you feeding him like a baby.

—

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

Flashback

Luke was injured, You don't know how or why. He just appeared infront of the Apollo cabin, There was a deep gash in his forearm, One of the archers from your cabin accidentally shot him an arrow, You assumed that He and Chris were probably not paying attention while they walked pass by the archery area.

"I got you something." He breathed, waiting for your reaction.

But still, He managed to appear in front of you, despite your protests that he must be brought to the infirmary, He kept a brave face, holding a messily made bouquet of flowers.

"Oh Luke..." You threw yourself onto his arms, making him stumble a little, He chuckled.

"Now let's get you into the infirmary!"

—

Boys, when my baby found me

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Nothin' in her room but an empty crib

And I was burnin' up a fever

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

She never asked me once about the wrong I did

Flashback

"Luke? Luke!" The dark-haired boy jolted awake, His eyes meeting the stormy skies whilst the raindrops hit his face.

"Hey baby," He groaned, His orange CHB shirt stained with mud, He slept on it after all. Then you remembered... The party in the Dionysus might have gotten a little wild...

"Luke, you smell like— Booze." You tried not to gagged at his scent, But he just brushed it off, Tumbling as he tried to got up.

"Let's get you inside, Some of my halfsiblings are away, so it's fine taking a fellow camper" You muttered while giving all your strength to carry him. You felt kinda embarrassed, Luke, Your boyfriend had carried you multiple times effortlessly, but now, you can't even take steps.

After what felt like an internity, you reached your bunk and flopped luke on it, His eyes sleepily drifting off again, but this time, your face was the one he's dreaming about.

—

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

Flashback

Luke was now in the infirmary, sitting lazily on a stool while your half siblings rushed to get medical supplies to heal him.

"Y'know, this is just a small scratch baby, you're making this a big deal." You turned your head to his direction so fast, you could've sworn you almost gave yourself a whiplash.

"Luke, Your forearm is literally dripping with blood, caused by an arrow. AN ARROW!" You bellowed, Everyone in the infirmary looked at you like a lunatic, some patients even muttering curses at you for interrupting their sleep.

"Still, I got you flowers, didn't I?" His grin made you melt, but the sight of his injury made you frown.

But you can't be mad at his handsome face.

"Yes yes, You did I love you for that, now Where's Ella? We need to give you an injection"

"INJECTION?"

—

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the Lord don't forgive me

I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me

Flashback

" I can't believe you'll do that!" You screamed, tears streaming down your face. Your red dress, once nicely ironed, was now crumpled. It wasn't even midnight, and you two were fighting again. Over a boy.

"Because that pathetic excuse of a bastard deserved it!" He Yelled, His voice booming inside your cabin.

"He's just having a normal conversation with me! you're the one who's deranged!" You cried, Luke couldn't stand the sight of you crying, so he kissed you, it wasn't a passionate one, it was a possessive one, with his strong arms gripping your wrists, pinning you into the wall.

you pulled away for a second, His lips still near yours.

"I hate you" You whispered, His lips touched yours again, smudging your lipstick.

"Show me how much you hate me"

You could've sworn you saw him smirk before kissing you roughly again.

—

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

Flashback

"I'm sorry baby, please let me in" Luke whispered as he peaked through the small crack on your door.

"You can't come and go as you please," you said, your voice cracking, You tried not to cry, You love him , but you can't just keep supporting him after all the things he'd done.

Now, he was carrying a duffle bag, full of stolen artefacts from the Gods. You were God fearing. That's when you realize it when your father, Apollo, had punished your mother, blinding her using his powerful Ray of sunlight.

"You'd do this for me, honey.." He whispered desperately, but you just shook your head.

"I'm sorry..."

"No no no! Y/n! Y/N!" He screamed as he watched you walk away.

—

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

Flashback

You sat in the edge of your bed, still sobbing silently, Your halfsiblings gave you pathetic and sorry looks, but none of their pity could make you the same.

The God you admired the most, Your own father had taken your voice as a punishment, or that's what oracle said. Apparently, you had offended him by your blasphemous acts using his sacred song. Now you were voiceless.

"Baby?" Luke's voice greeted you.

You looked up at him, Your eyes glistening with tear as you ran into his arms sobbing violently.

"Shh...I know sweetheart.." He rubbed his hands behind your back, Kissing your temple at the same time.

As the dark haired boy comforted you, He smirked secretly, You were so easy to manipulate, with your doe eyes and your sweet smile, As you slowly fell asleep in Luke's arms, A rose necklace sat inside his pocket, Ever so beautiful, with your own voice trapped inside it.

A/N: HEY, GUYS! So this is a request! I used the 'Work Song' by Hozier, Every lyrics has an indication of the reader and Luke's past, I kinda wanna give them a toxic relationship, so....🫢🫢 I do hope you liked this!!

I apologise once again for any grammatical errors since my keyboard hates me ❤️

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #xy/n #charlie bushnell #percy jackson #luke castellan #lovers

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quill-is-brainstorming · 1 year

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I've just re-read the short lived duel that Aeneas and Achilles have in Book 20 of the Iliad and it's actually the most hilarious fucking thing.

So it starts out with Apollo disguising himself as Lycaon, one of Priam's many sons, and telling to have a go at Achilles. Keep in mind that this is post-Patroclus Achilles. Aka: berserk Achilles. Aka: so fucking mad he would fight a literal river Achilles.

Aeneas, who is capable of critical thinking, says he doubts he can actually take him on. He also references a time when he was herding cattle on Mount Ida and Achilles ambushed him, adding that the only reason he survived then was because Zeus gave him enough strength to book it (cracking up the official times that he's been saved by a god from certain death to 3, you go dude!).

However, after a bit of back and forth and a ton of hyping up on Apollo's part, Aeneas decides to try anyway.

Like, what could possibly go wrong?

Achilles notices Aeneas charging at him and he begins to taunt him. It's something among the lines of: "I'm sorry, are you, background trojan character #61, actually gonna try and beat me? And then what? Do you think that Priam will reward you in some way? Maybe making you king after him? Well it's BULLSHIT, because Priam fucked so much that your chances of succeeding him are basically 0. Ahah. Loser."

Now, you'd think that maybe Aeneas got enraged at the comment and attacked him, or maybe he even got scared and backed down, but NOPE. What does Aeneas do?

Well, first of all, he insults Achilles' insults, comparing his bickering to that of a child. Literally, "I heard third graders do better than that." And then he decides to list his and Hector's entire fucking family tree.

You know that part of the Bible that's like "this guy sired this other guy, and this other guy sired yet another guy" and so on? It's basically that.

So after he's done with all that, Aeneas states that while he'd love to have a battle of insults with Achilles, because according to him he's actually very good at insulting people (his words, not mine), they should probably throw hands now. Achilles agrees.

The duel is shortlived and Aeneas gets his ass handed to him. Badly. As expected. And he's about die when ✨️POV shift✨️ we're not on Olympus where Poseidon, Hera and Athena are watching this absolute train wreck go down.

Poseidon, pitying Aeneas, suddenly goes on a rant. It's something among the lines of: "come on guys, look at him, he's just a little guy! He literally has no stakes in this war, he doesn't deserve to die here! He even gives us lots of gifts and sacrifices, he's literally such a nice guy. How can we do this to him!?

...oh and also he's part of some prophecy, Zeus would get mad if he died."

The fact that the way it's worded makes it sound like Aeneas being part of a literal prophecy is an afterthought to him absolutely floors me, Poseidon is literally just attached to a random dude that's fighting on the opposite side to his because he thinks he's nice.

After all that Hera is pretty unimpressed and states that she really doesn't care if our man lives or dies as neither her or Athena have ever saved a Trojan from death, she however adds that Poseidon is free to do whatever he wants.

The literal moment Hera stops talking, Poseidon lunges down from Olympus and onto the battlefield to look for the two combatants. When he does, he saves Aeneas like only he can do.

You know how when Diomedes first tries to kill Aeneas, Aphrodite gently folds her hands around him to shield him? There's none of that here. Poseidon just runs up to him and literally flings the motherfucker.

It literally says that he flies "high in the air". It's like a Looney Toons sketch.

So Aeneas lands and, while he's obviously a bit dazed, Poseidon proceeds to call him a madman and essentially tells him to never do something stupid like that again and just wait until Achilles is dead, then he'll be able to murder Achaeans to his heart's content. Aeneas is fine with that.

Achilles, who just saw his opponent just get yeeted into the fucking sky, just shrugs and goes "welp, guess that guy's off limits, I'm gonna go kill someone else now I guess lol".

This entire scene is pure fucking gold and the fact that I've literally never seen anyone talk about it just breaks my heart.

#tagamemnon #trojan war #the iliad #the aeneid #achilles #aeneas #apollo #poseidon #hera #athena

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virtualflowerbatathlete · 8 days

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okay @helpallthenamesaretakenblog

Here goes nothing. Happy pride month to my bisexual followers!

Bi!Percy

Percy used to honestly think he was gay for the longest time.

He never really saw bisexual representation on TV, except for an episode of Sex in the City that Gabe watched one time, where a bisexual man named Sean was a character. But the show was incredibly biphobic, with the women claiming that bisexuality "didn't exist," and that Sean was gay. Percy knew he was attracted to other boys in his class, so he just figured he was gay.

He never came out or even dated when he was young; he moved schools so frequently he didn't have time to date or sit down and properly figure out his sexuality beyond the fact that he felt attraction to boys.

It wasn't until Camp-Half Blood, (right around the time he met Annabeth) that he started re-examining his sexuality. Part of the reason it took Percy so long to realize he had a crush on Annabeth is because he thought it was't possible; he was gay!

When Annabeth kissed him, he finally fully realized that he was, in fact, attracted to both men and women. Learning about Apollo's bisexuality confirmed it for Percy.

He only came out to Sally and Annabeth; he didn't feel a particular need to come out to a lot of people, preferring to keep his sexuality private.

After TOA, when he saw how Nico coming out inspired a lot of young queer campers, he decided to start being more open about his bisexuality. He had first-hand experience with homophobia from Gabe, and decided that he was comfortable sharing his sexuality with Camp if it meant that more young campers would feel safe.

Bi!Annabeth

Annabeth took a lot longer to realize she was bisexual.

She'd had a small crush on Luke, then was infatuated with Percy since she was twelve. Percy was her best friend, and she didn't spend a ton of time around other girls, so she never properly got the chance to explore her sexuality, especially because she had been on the run since she was seven years old. It's hard to do proper self-reflection when you're constantly running from monsters.

Piper was her bisexual awakening, though she didn't realize it at the time. Piper comforted her a lot when Percy was missing, ad they had a classic "pre-sapphic-oh-my-god-this-female-friendship-is-super-intense" type of relationship.

Annabeth (as shown in Mark of Athena) found herself constantly admiring how pretty Piper was. Weird, right?

One time, Piper and Annabeth were keeping watch over the Argo II as it sailed, and Piper had leaned her head on Annabeth's shoulder. Annabeth was blushing the entire time, though she couldn't figure out why.

A few things led to the catalyst of her realizing she was bisexual. First, Percy coming out to her after Blood of Olympus. She did a lot of internet surfing about bisexuality. (Purely for research reasons!)

The main catalyst was when Piper broke up with Jason and started dating Shel. One of her best friends coming out as sapphic caused her to re-examine her own sexuality, and she concluded that she was bisexual as well. She told Percy, who was thrilled.

She started being more open about it at around the same time as Percy did. They now both play Smash or Pass on all the actors every time they watch a show together.

I love bi!Percabeth so much.

#Percy jackson #Annabeth chase #percabeth #piper mclean #piperbeth #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #nico di angelo #just a disclaimer I am a lesbian #so to my lovely bisexual followers if you want to add or change anything feel free!

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 month

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1968 [Chapter 7: Apollo, God Of Music]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 8.7k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

“My uncle, he is a doctor in Zabrze,” Ludwika says, red Yardley lips, Camel cigarette. No one cares if she smokes; she’s not campaigning to be the next first lady. Fosco is puffing on a cigar. Mimi sips drowsily at her Gimlet; you could use a few shots, but you’re making do with a Pink Squirrel, something sweet and feminine and without any bite. “So I go to him and he gives me a bottle of chlordiazepoxide.”

“Oh, Librium,” Mimi says, perking up.

Ludwika waves her hand dismissively; cigarette smoke wafts through the air. “Whatever. The next day I have my audition. A tiny man who thinks he’s God. And I give it a real shot, I try my best, I’m nice, I’m charming, but he doesn’t like me. He says my teeth are too big, like a mouse’s. This is very rude. I did not comment on his fidgety little rat hands. But okay, no problem, I have a plan. No one will stop me from getting out of Poland.”

“You drugged him?” you ask, incredulous, grinning.

“You are a criminal,” Fosco tells Ludwika. “I will call J. Edgar Hoover, you should not be so close to positions of power.”

“Listen, listen,” Ludwika insists. “Here is what I do. I thank him very much for his consideration, and then as I leave I drop my purse and things go everywhere. I filled it before I left my apartment, of course. Anything I could find, empty lipstick tubes and perfume bottles, old makeup compacts with broken mirrors, coins, hair pins, tissues, pens, gum, Krówki candies, it is an avalanche. And when he bends down to help me pick up the mess—I have to encourage him, ‘oh sir won’t you grab that, I am just a stupid girl in a very short dress,’ you understand—I put the pills in his tea.”

“How many pills?” you ask.

“I don’t know. You think I had time to count? Maybe seven.”

“Seven?!” Mimi exclaims, and you take this to mean it was a generous dose.

“What? He did not die,” Ludwika says. “I wait two days and then I go back to his office. And it is so strange, can you believe it, he does not remember my audition! So I remind him that he thought I would be perfect for the ad he is shooting in Paris. He keeps squinting at me and saying ‘are you sure, are you sure?!’ Of course I’m sure! A week later, I am standing under the Eiffel Tower with a bottle of Coca-Cola. And then I book a job in London, and then another in New York City, and one of my new model friends sets me up on a blind date with Otto. Lunch in Astoria at a horrible Greek restaurant. Who wants to eat pie made out of spinach?! Now I am here with you people, and the journalists love when I smile for them with my big mouse teeth.”

All four of you laugh at your table, an elite club, the ones who married in. It’s Alicent’s 60th birthday, and the ballroom of the Texas State Hotel in downtown Houston is raucous with clinking glasses and chatter and music and the shutter clicks of photographers. The DJ is playing Fun, Fun, Fun by the Beach Boys. Alicent is dancing with Helaena and the children, and it’s the happiest you can ever remember seeing her. Otto, Aemond, and Sargent Shriver are deep in conversation by the bar, furrowed brows and Old Fashioneds, today’s newspapers and tomorrow’s itinerary. Criston is standing with the men but watching Alicent, face wistful, silver streaks in his jet black hair, and it occurs to you that they must have grown up together: Alicent a 19-year-old bride and Criston her husband’s fledgling bodyguard, the person closest to her age in the household, near and trusted and forbidden, orbiting adolescent twins like Artemis and Apollo. You keep looking around for Aegon. No one else seems aware that he’s gone.

“Otto thought he died and went to heaven when he found you,” you tell Ludwika. “His Eastern Bloc defector princess.”

“He is going to bring my mother to the States. I would be anything he wanted me to be. I would be a model, or a housewife, or a nurse. I would be Bigfoot! But this…” Ludwika gestures broadly: to the ballroom, the city, the latest stop on the campaign trail. “It is not so bad. I never expected to serve the Polish people so far from home. You know how you stop communism? You show the world that capitalism can do more for them. There must be a path to a better life, wars must be ended, injustices must be dealt with. Aemond will do that.” She grins at you, exhaling smoke through her nostrils. “You will help him.”

You reply a bit wryly: “It’s an honor.”

“We are like four legs of a table,” Fosco observes. He points at Ludwika with his smoldering cigar. “You are a Slav fleeing the Russians. My family has ancient titles in Italy and yet no castles, no land, we are essentially homeless. Mimi’s father is a third-generation oil tycoon from Pennsylvania. And she was supposed to fix Aegon.”

“I don’t think I succeeded,” Mimi confesses.

“And then when it was time for Aemond to get married…” Fosco turns to Mimi. “Do you remember? What an ordeal. The discussions went on and on and on. She must be smart, she must be sinless, she should be from a self-made family, a real rags-to-riches story of the American Dream.”

“Right.” Mimi nods groggily, reminiscing. “And from the South.”

“Yes! But not the Deep South. No, no. Someplace Aemond could actually win. Texas, Tennessee, North Carolina. Or Florida, of course.” Now Fosco notices how you’re looking at him, because you’ve never heard this before. He quickly pivots. “But the weekend Aemond met you, it was settled. Nobody could compare.”

His tone is odd; it suggests backstories, history, mythology. Ludwika appears to be just as intrigued as you are, taking a drag off her Camel, her eyes narrowing until they are thin and catlike. You ask: “Who else was being considered?”

“No one,” Fosco answers—too quickly—and he and Mimi exchange an uneasy glance.

What did Aemond and I talk about the night we met? you think dizzily. In those first hours, minutes, thirty seconds? Where I’m from. What I was studying.

Fosco, a true Italian, then attempts to deflect by flirting. He makes emphatic, passionate motions with his hands. “You were just so captivating, so clever…”

“And young enough that Aemond could easily beat Aegon’s record of five children,” Mimi adds. Fosco clears his throat and glares at her. Mimi realizes what she’s said and gazes forlornly down into her Gimlet, mortified, groaning softly. You’ve had one c-section already, and no living son to show for it. At most, you might be able to give Aemond two or three more children; and you don’t even want them. You want Ari back. You want to touch him, to hold him, even if only for a moment, even if only once.

“It’s fine,” you try to reassure Mimi, but everyone can tell it’s not.

Ludwika breaks the tension. “You do not want twenty kids anyway. Your uterus will fall out onto the floor.” And you’re so caught off-guard that all you can do is smile at her from across the table, knowing, appreciative. It’s a strange thing to be grateful for.

“She’s right,” Mimi says mournfully. “They had to sew mine back in.”

Fosco pleads: “Stop, stop, I will need a lobotomy.”

Mimi slurps on her Gimlet. “It’s sad. I used to love sex.”

“Mimi, please,” Fosco says, wincing, holding up his palms. “You are like my sister. I prefer to think you are the Virgin Mary.”

Ludwika sighs dramatically and looks to where Otto stands on the other side of the ballroom. “I used to love sex too.”

Now you’re all howling again, rocking back in your chairs. The DJ is playing Go Where You Wanna Go by the Mamas and the Papas. Cass Elliot is the real talent in that group and everybody knows it, but of course any mention of her must be dutifully accompanied by: If only she was more beautiful. If only she could lose weight and find a husband.

“I think you like it, yes?” Ludwika says to you like a dare, puffing on a fresh Camel, red lipstick staining the white paper, blood on sheets. She combs her manicured fingernails though her voluminous blonde hair. “I could tell when I met you. You dress like Jackie Kennedy, but you are not such a statue. She belongs in a museum. I can imagine you at the Summer of Love.”

Fosco and Mimi shift uncomfortably. It’s not the sort of thing they would ever ask you. It’s too personal, too easily a segue into criticizing Aemond. It’s a usurpation of the natural order. Mimi guzzles her Gimlet and flags down a waiter to get another. Fosco takes off his glasses and cleans them with his skinny black necktie.

Sex. You think back to before you began to dread it. This is difficult, like trying to remember Greek words or British manners, which fork to use with each course. Memories from another lifetime come back in flashes: tangled up with your first boyfriend in his tiny dorm room bed, Aemond peeling off your still-dripping swimsuit on the floor of your hotel room during your honeymoon in Hawaii. You shrug and give Ludwika a nod, a brisk, ungenerous answer in the affirmative. “I always feel like I could keep going.”

Paradoxically, this does not end the conversation. Ludwika, Fosco, and Mimi study you with the same bewildered, gear-spinning curiosity. After a moment Ludwika says: “Not after you’ve finished, surely. I am half dead by the end if it’s good.”

“Finished?” you ask, puzzled. All three of them gawk at you, then at each other.

Aegon breezes into the ballroom wearing the Gibson guitar he bought in Manhattan, blue like the Caribbean or the Mediterranean or the crystalline waves off the coast of Hawaii, dotted with fish and sea turtles. Your eyes go to him immediately and stay there; you can feel the swirling warmth of blood in your cheeks. As Aegon passes the table, he squeezes your shoulder—brief, familiar, welcome—and Fosco raises his thick eyebrows. Mimi is too busy gulping down her Gimlet to notice. Ludwika chuckles, low and wicked, then slides a makeup compact out of her Prada purse to check her lipstick. Aegon goes to the DJ and yells something over the music. He’s fucked up already, you can tell, pills or booze or both.

Fosco stops a passing waiter. “Signore, did you hear who won the United Nations Handicap?”

The waiter stares blankly back at him. “What?”

“The turf race at Monmouth Park. I have $200 on Dr. Fager.”

The DJ abruptly cuts off the music. Aegon gives his guitar a few practice strums to make sure it’s in tune. He stumbles when he walks, he lurches and sways. His blonde hair sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He is woefully underdressed. His white shirt is half-unbuttoned, his denim shorts tattered; on his feet he wears black moccasins. There is a small gold hoop in each of his ears. Otto keeps telling Aegon to take them out, and every time Aegon ignores him.

“Happy birthday, Mom,” you hear him say to Alicent, and she presses a palm to her heart, her dark eyes wide and shining. “When I first heard this, it made me think of you.”

Otto and Sargent Shriver—the aspiring vice president—are glowering at Aegon. Aemond smirks as he nips at an Old Fashioned, amused; but he makes sharp, intentional eye contact with each of the three journalists. You will tell the right version of this story, he means. You will not print anything we wouldn’t want written, or my family will be your enemies for life.

As soon as Aegon plucks the first few chords, you recognize the song. “Oh, that’s really funny.”

“What?” Fosco asks.

“It’s Mama Tried.” You stand and begin clapping, then motion for the rest of the table to do the same. They obey without protest, though Mimi can’t seem to keep track of the beat. Aegon is beaming as he sings.

“The first thing I remember knowin’

Was a lonesome whistle blowin’

And a youngin’s dream of growin’ up to ride

On a freight train leavin’ town

Not knowin’ where I'm bound

And no one could change my mind but Mama tried.”

Cosmo sprints over from where he had been dancing with Alicent. He grabs your hand and tugs you towards the center of the floor. “Let’s go, let’s go!” he shouts impatiently.

“Call the FBI, I’m being kidnapped,” you say to Fosco and Ludwika as you let Cosmo drag you away.

“One and only rebel child

From a family meek and mild

My Mama seemed to know what lay in store

Despite all my Sunday learnin’

Towards the bad I kept on turnin’

‘Til Mama couldn’t hold me anymore.”

At the heart of the ballroom, Criston has swooped in to dance with Alicent, slow chaste circling. Helaena has floated off to the bar to chat with Otto, who keeps all his smiles for her. The children—Targaryens and Shrivers alike—are stomping and cheering and alternating between various moves: the Mashed Potato, the Twist, the Swim, the Loco-Motion, the Watusi, the Pony in pairs. Aemond whistles to a photographer and then nods to where you are holding onto one of Cosmo’s tiny hands as he spins around at lawless, breakneck speed. Of course this would make for a good image: you being maternal, you promising the American people that they will one day have not only a first lady but a first family.

“And I turned 21 in prison doin’ life without parole

No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried

Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied

That leaves only me to blame ‘cause Mama tried.”

Cameras flash and the crowd keeps clapping. Cosmo giggles wildly each time he almost falls and you pull him back to his feet. There is a hand skimming around your waist, a listless powder blue dress your husband chose for you. Aemond replaces Cosmo as your dance partner. Aegon’s 10-year-old daughter Violeta spirits Cosmo away; Aemond reels you in close, one palm pressed into the small of your back, his left hand gripping your right. When you steal a glimpse of Aegon—still strumming, still singing—he doesn’t look so triumphant anymore. His grin is frozen and artificial. His drunk muddy eyes go steely.

“I need you to do something for me,” Aemond begins.

Of course, you once would have said. Anything. “What is it?”

“I want you to cut your hair like Jackie.”

You’re so stunned your feet stop moving. Aemond coaxes you back into the steps. “No.”

“Think about how much more versatile it would be. Jackie is an icon, she’s sophisticated, she’s mature.”

“If you wanted a wife in her thirties, you could have easily found one.”

“Honey—”

“I do everything you ask,” you say, barely more than a whisper. “Everything. I wear what you want me to. I go where you want me to. I spend ten hours a week getting my hair fixed. I keep it up, I keep it presentable. But I’m not chopping it off.”

“You’re never going to be able to wear it down anyway,” Aemond counters, so calm, so rational, like your skull is nothing but incendiary feminine mania. “If I win, you’ll be surrounded by staff and journalists for years. You can’t be photographed with it down, you look about eighteen. And like you live on a park bench in Haight-Ashbury.”

“It’s my hair. I’m keeping it.”

Aemond leans in and says, cold and severe: “You’re my wife, and everything that’s yours belongs to me.” Then he kisses your cheek as cameras click and strobe. “Think about it. Now smile.”

You force yourself to. The crowd applauds as Aegon finishes singing and flees the dancefloor. The DJ puts on Light My Fire by The Doors. You and Aemond leave in opposite directions: he goes to talk to Eunice Kennedy, who is hugging her 3-year-old son Anthony to her chest; you return to your table to drain the last of your Pink Squirrel. You need something stronger. You need to be alone so you can collect yourself.

Now Aegon has shed his guitar and is standing with his back to the wall, smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to some campaign staffer—she looks like a girl, but she’s probably your age—who is gazing up at him worshipfully. She says something that makes him laugh, his head thrown back, his eyes sparkling, and you feel like you’re waking up from your c-section all over again, your belly split open and rearranged, aching, stabbing, nauseous.

“Are you okay?” Ludwika asks, scrutinizing you.

“I’m perfect. I’ll be right back.”

You hurry out of the ballroom, the music fading behind you. You slip into one of the elevators in the lobby and hit the button for the top floor, where Aemond’s entourage has booked every suite. As the door is closing—as only a foot of space remains—Aegon shoves his way into the elevator, startling you. The door shuts behind him and you begin the ascent. Aegon slams the red emergency stop button, and the elevator jolts to a halt.

“What the hell are you doing—?!”

“What pissed you off, huh?” Aegon taunts, stepping closer. You back away from him until you run out of room; not because you want the distance, but because you’re afraid of what you’ll do if it’s gone.

“Nothing. I’m so great, I’ve never been better, can’t you tell?”

He’s so close you can feel the heat rising off his flushed skin, you can see the miles-deep murky blue of his irises, open water, shipwrecks and drowning. “You want all this to be over? You want the women with their big, adoring eyes and their short skirts to disappear? Grow up. Stop acting like a kid. Ask for it.”

“Ask for what?”

“You know.”

If you touch him now, you won’t be able to stop. There’s nowhere for us to go. There’s no way out of this family, this year, this world. “I don’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Aegon barks out a sardonic, cutting laugh. “Yeah, you’re definitely 23.”

“I thought you loved girls young enough to be your daughters. Isn’t that what gets you hard?”

“You’re a fucking coward.”

“You’re sweating on me, you pig.”

“You want it so bad,” Aegon whispers as he presses himself against you, his ribs and thighs and hips, and you clutch for the walls of the elevator so you don’t reach for him instead. His left hand is tearing your hair out of its clips and pins so it falls free like you used to wear it; the right is all over your face, your jaw, your chin, your cheeks, touching you ceaselessly, ravenously, a blind man reading chronicles of braille. You’re trying to turn away from him, but he keeps pulling you back in. You’re breathing his rum and nicotine, you’re gasping in low, starved moans. It might be more intimate than kissing, than sex. He’s already felt your body. What he asks for now is your soul. His words are warm and aching as he murmurs through loosed strands of your hair: “Tell me you want it, please, just tell me, just tell me, tell me and it’s yours.”

Your palms land on his bare, damp chest, and Aegon starts unfastening the last buttons of his shirt. Instead, you push him away. Aegon lets you. He surrenders. “I can’t,” you choke out. You hit the red button, and the elevator resumes its rise to the top floor of the hotel.

“I’m really fucked up right now,” he says with sudden realization, swaying, staring down at his feet like he fears he’ll lose track of them.

“I’m aware.”

“I’m sorry. I think…I think I wanted that to happen differently.”

“I can’t trust you when you’re like this,” you say. I feel like I can’t trust anyone. Aegon looks up at you, his glassy eyes large and wounded. When the elevator door opens, you step out and he stays in, riding it back to the lobby.

In the suite you share with Aemond, you turn on the radio and spin the dial until you find a Loretta Lynn song. You go to the minibar cabinet and down two tiny glass bottles of vodka, something that won’t make you smell like too much of a drunk. You’ll have to fix your hair before you go back to the ballroom; you’ll have to change your dress. You’re painted with Aegon’s sweat and smoke. You can’t risk your husband noticing. You slide open the top drawer of the nightstand on your side of the bed and take out the card you keep there, the one that travels with you to each stop on the campaign trail. Loretta Lynn croons from the radio, wronged and wrathful.

“If you don’t wanna go to Fist City

You’d better detour around my town

‘Cause I’ll grab you by the hair of your head

And I’ll lift you off of the ground

I'm not a-sayin’ my baby is a saint, ‘cause he ain’t

And that he won’t cat around with a kitty

I’m here to tell you, gal, to lay off of my man

If you don’t wanna go to Fist City.”

You lie on the floor and peer up at the card in your hands: jubilant cartoon cow, festive party hat. You know exactly what’s written on the inside; it’s etched into your memory like myths passed down through millennia. Nevertheless, you read it again. The original message is still crossed out, and there’s an addendum below it in hasty black ink: I thought this was blank…congrats on the new calf!

You graze your thumbprint across Aegon’s scrawled signature. It’s smudged now. You do this a lot. One day his name might disappear altogether from the stark white parchment, from memory.

You close the card and hug it to your chest like a mother holds a living child.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s going on between you and Aegon?”

Alarmed, you meet Aemond’s gaze, two reflections in the vanity mirror. It’s the next morning, and you’re finishing up your makeup. Your dress and jacket are striped with black and white, your jewelry is silver, chains on your wrists and small tasteful hoops in your ears. “Nothing.” There is a lull you have to fill before it becomes suspicious. “He’s been helpful, he’s been…you know. Ever since Mount Sinai.”

Aemond adjusts his cerulean blue tie, studying himself in the mirror. He’s still wearing his leather eyepatch. Putting in his glass eye is the last thing he does before leaving the suite each day. “He was a comfort to you.”

“Well, he was there.”

“Because I told him to be,” Aemond says, resting his hands on the back of your chair. “Someone had to stay at Asteria to keep tabs on things, to let me know what you were up to. Aegon was the most expendable. Mimi and the kids make for good photos, but Aegon…he’s not especially endearing to the public. Those few years as the mayor of Trenton just about ruined him. I’d love to make him the attorney general if I win, but I don’t think the people would stomach it. Maybe if he behaves himself he can have the job for my second term.”

Eight years, you think, unable to fathom it. Eight years in a fishbowl. Eight years lying under Aemond as he tries to get me pregnant with children neither of us can love.

Aemond leans down to touch his lips to the side of your throat. “I’m glad you’re finally friends,” he says. “Aegon’s not all bad. But don’t let him get you in trouble.”

“I wouldn’t.” What did you and Aemond talk about before Ari died? What was this marriage built on? The senate, the presidency, civil rights, poverty, the Space Race, Vietnam, Greek mythology. Everything but each other. Dreams and ideals that would dwarf any mortal, would render them invisible.

“And watch out for any reporters from the Wall Street Journal. They’d kill for Nixon. If they can twist your words, they will.” He gets something from inside his own nightstand: the bloodstained komboskini from when he was shot in Palm Beach. He places it in your right hand, all 100 knots. “Give this to someone today. You know how to do it, you’ve always understood this part. Pick the right person, the right moment. Make sure there are plenty of cameras around.”

“Where am I going? Lunch with the mayor’s wife, that’s this afternoon, isn’t it?”

Aemond nods. “And a few other stops. Then we’re going to the Alamo in San Antonio tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He recoils, reaches for the left half of his face, kneads the scar tissue there as nerve pain radiates through his flesh all the way down to the bone. Once you felt such agonizing pity for him; now all you can think about is the matching scar you wear on your belly, hidden and shameful and a badge of your inadequacies: your body too weak to protect Ari, your mind too pliable to resist being ensnared by the crushing gravity of this man, this family, this life.

“How can I help?” you ask Aemond, because it’s the right thing to do. And randomly, you find yourself remembering the statue of Apollo in Helaena’s garden back at Asteria, the god of music, healing, truth, prophesy.

“You can’t.” Aemond goes to the bathroom to force his glass eye into its socket. You depart for the hotel lobby where Ludwika and Mimi, your companions for the day, are already waiting. Ludwika is wearing a rose pink Chanel skirt suit. Mimi—relatively functional, as she hasn’t been awake long enough to ruin herself yet—is dressed in delicate dove grey.

Alicent, Helaena, and the children are scheduled to tour a local high school and library; Criston, unsurprisingly, is going with them. Aemond, accompanied by Otto, has a series of meetings with local business leaders and politicians. Aegon and Fosco are headed to the Michael E. DeBakey Veterans Affairs Medical Center to promise maimed soldiers that Aemond will end the war that carved out bits of them and filled the voids with screaming nightmares. The limousine you share with Ludwika and Mimi ferries you first to the NASA’s Manned Spacecraft Center. Mimi is entranced by the reflective surface of the helmets, coated with gold to divert blinding sunbeams; in turn, the astronauts are entranced by Ludwika, who leaves lipstick smudges on their cheeks when she kisses them. Next is a tea party hosted by Iola Faye Cure Welch, the mayoress of Houston since 1964 and the mother of five children. And as you nibble daintily at triangle-shaped sandwiches and trudge through small talk about flowers and furniture, you can’t stop smiling. You can’t stop thinking about how ridiculous Aegon would think this is if he was here.

The driver mentions one last stop, then coasts through midafternoon traffic towards the city center. You spend the ride touching up your hair and makeup. Ludwika offers to let you borrow her seduction-red lipstick; you politely decline. You step out of the limo and shield your eyes from the glare of the Texas sun. It takes your vision a moment to adjust, and then you realize where you are. The sign above the main entranceway reads: Houston Methodist Hospital. The air snags in your throat, your lungs are empty. Your hands tremble violently. The earth rocks beneath your white high heels. Mount Sinai is the last hospital you walked into, and you left with your son in a casket so small it could have been mistaken for a shoebox.

“Alright, let’s go,” Ludwika says, linking an arm through yours. Mimi, badly in need of a drink, is looking deflated and edgy. “We are almost done. And I have been promised a medium-rare steak for dinner! Mushrooms and onions too! The Statue of Liberty did not lie. This country is a golden door.”

“I can’t.”

Ludwika stares at you. “What?”

“I can’t, I can’t go in there.”

“What is she talking about?” Ludwika asks Mimi, who shakes her head, mystified.

“I can’t,” you whimper.

They’ve never seen you like this. They don’t know what to do. They listen to you, that is the hierarchy; but it’s too late to change course now. Journalists are approaching in a swarm. Nurses and doctors are gathering by the front door to welcome you.

He knew, you think, suddenly furious. Aemond knew, and he didn’t tell me.

“It will be okay,” Ludwika says, patting your back awkwardly. “We are here with you. Nothing bad will happen.”

“Oh,” Mimi breathes, understanding. She looks at you with sympathy that shimmers on the surface of the opaque, polluted lake of her mind. Then she catches Ludwika’s eye and skims a hand down her own slim midsection. Ari, she mouths, and Ludwika’s face falls.

The doctors and nurses are whistling and applauding; the journalists are snapping photos and scrounging for quotes. You feel your conditioning over the past two years taking over: straight posture, gentle smile, hands clasped demurely together. But you are locked away somewhere underneath.

“Do not worry,” Ludwika tells you softly. “We will talk, we will make it easier for you.” Then she and Mimi begin boisterously shaking hands and thanking people for coming as you make your way through the crowd of journalists and towards the main entrance of the hospital.

People are saying things to you, but you don’t really hear them. You reply with words you won’t remember afterwards. You nod frequently and go wherever you are led. Doctors are explaining new research into placenta previa and c-sections. Nurses are showing you a state-of-the-art NICU for premature infants. Someone is placing a baby in your arms, and you can’t do anything but accept it numbly. You can’t look down at it, you can’t allow yourself to feel the weight of some other woman’s child. You wear your smile like armor and let the photographers capture their snapshots, painting a frame around you, deciding where you live.

Then you are introduced to the parents, women in hospital beds and men perched in chairs beside them, just like the one where Aegon slept at Mount Sinai. They take your hands when you offer them and tell you about their small children, sick children, dying children. One patient just delivered twins. The first did not survive beyond a few hours, but the second is in an incubator and gaining strength. You recall the komboskini stained with Aemond’s blood and take it out of your purse, give it to the suffering mother, watch faith rise in her face like dawn over the Atlantic. But you won’t remember her. You cannot allow yourself to.

Outside as you, Ludwika, and Mimi are headed back to the limousine, the journalists make one last attempt to poach a headline-worthy quote. “Mrs. Targaryen! Mrs. Targaryen!” a young man shouts, clambering to the front of the horde and jabbing a microphone in your face. “I’m from the Houston Chronicle. Can you tell me how the senator feels about the failure of the most recent phase of the Tet Offensive?”

You are in a fog; you don’t feel real, this moment and this city don’t feel real, and so you cannot remember what Aemond would want you to say. “The Vietnam War has claimed too many lives already. We should have never sent our men there to die. But since that is done, the best thing we can do now is end the draft immediately and then withdrawal from the region as soon as the South Vietnamese are able to defend their own territory, which is their responsibility.” The journalist already considers this effort fruitful and begins to retreat, but you have one last point to make. Ludwika and Mimi watch you anxiously. “I lost someone in Vietnam. I met him when I was in college. He had a good heart, and he joined because he thought it was wrong for poor men to have to fight while rich kids got exemptions, and he was killed in action in October of 1965.”

“This was a friend?” the journalist asks, eyes glowing hungrily. Then he adds as an afterthought: “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

“A boyfriend. Corporal Cameron Marino from Schenectady, New York. People called him Cam.”

A solemn murmur ripples through the crowd. Hats are removed, hands held to chests. “Rest in peace, Cam,” someone says. Maybe they have somebody they care about in Vietnam, a friend or a lover or a brother. You wave goodbye and climb into the limousine. The outpouring swells as you vanish: We love you, Mrs. Targaryen! God bless you, Mrs. Targaryen!

In the lobby of the Texas State Hotel, you tell Ludwika and Mimi not to follow you. They have to listen. After some hesitation, Mimi heads for the bar in the ballroom; Ludwika asks the staff at the front desk if she’ll be able to make a call to Poland with the phone in her room. You take the elevator to the top floor. Fosco is in the hallway, on his way back from one of the vending machines with a Fresca. When he sees your face, his jaw drops.

“Dio mio, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you say, tears biting in your eyes. You pass him, digging your key out of your purse.

“Are you sure—?”

“Fosco, please. I don’t want to talk.”

“Okay,” he says doubtfully. Then he seems to get an idea and strides away with great purpose. You take shelter in your suite, silent and dim; Aemond isn’t back yet. You brace yourself against the locked door and sob into empty, trembling hands, at last hidden away where no one can see you, where no one can be disturbed or disappointed. You know now that none of it was healed—not the loss, not the revelations—but only buried, and now it’s all been unearthed again and the pain shrieks like exposed nerves.

It’s not fair. Ari deserved better, I deserved better.

There’s nothing you can do. Your hands ache to hold someone that no longer exists. You can’t unlearn the truth of what your marriage is.

There are two knocks, quick and rough. “Hey, it’s me.” And there’s such pure intimacy in those words. You know my voice. You know why I’m here. “Open the door.”

“I’m okay, just, just, just leave me alone—”

“Open the door,” Aegon says again. “Or I’ll get security up here to do it for you.”

Swiping the tears from your face, you let him in. He’s dressed in baggy black shorts, nothing on his feet, an unbuttoned stolen green army jacket. You once thought he wore those to play the part of a revolutionary from the comfort of his East Coast seaside mansion. Now you understand it’s because he misses Daeron, because he believes he should have gone to Vietnam instead. There are several dog tags strung around his neck; some of the veterans at the medical center he visited must have gifted them to him.

“What’s wrong?” Aegon’s eyes sweep over you, seeking, horrified. “What did he do?”

You can’t answer, you can’t breathe. You back away from him as more tears spill down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey, let me help you. Please don’t be upset. Did he say something, did he hurt you?” Aegon reaches out, and as soon as he touches you your knees buckle and you’re on the floor, trying not to wail, trying not to scream, and Aegon is pulling you against his chest—bare skin, borrowed metal—and his hands are on your face and in your hair, and his lips are against your forehead as he murmurs: “Shh, shh, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.”

“Whatever it is, I can help.”

“I had to go to a hospital and hold babies and I, I, I never even got to touch him, not once, not ever, and I can’t now because he’s gone. He’s locked in some fucking vault, he’s just bones, but he was supposed to be a person, and those other babies are going to get to grow up but he isn’t, and it’s not fair.”

“You’re right,” Aegon agrees softly, still holding you.

“No one else knew him.”

“I did. I was there the whole time.”

“Only because Aemond made you stay.”

“No,” Aegon swears. “I was supposed to spy on you. He never told me to do any of the rest of it. I stayed because I wanted to.”

“You did,” you say, very quietly, weakly, conceding.

“And I’m still here now.”

Your lungs aren’t burning quite so much. Your tears are slowing. You unravel yourself from Aegon, averting your eyes. Now you’re ashamed; you aren’t in the habit of revealing to people how much you’re splintering like cracked glass, fresh fractures every time you think to check the damage. “I’m, um, I’m really sorry.”

“Look, I don’t mean to bring up unpleasant memories, but this is definitely not the most embarrassing thing I’ve seen you do.”

You laugh, only for a few seconds, and Aegon smiles as he mops the tears from your face with the sleeve of his army jacket. Then he turns serious again.

“Can I ask you something? It’s very personal. It’s offensive, honestly. But I have to know.”

“You can ask.”

“Do you want more children?”

More children. Because Ari was real. “Not now. Not with Aemond.”

Aegon nods, suspicions confirmed. “Can you do that sponge thing you told me about?”

“No. I think he’d be able to feel it, he’s…” You gesture vaguely. It’s difficult to say. “He’s big.”

Aegon didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to have to think about it. He flinches, just enough that you notice. But as much as he’d like to, he doesn’t change the subject. “What about the pill?”

“No doctor is going to write me a prescription without my husband’s permission. Especially considering who my husband is.”

“I hate this fucking country,” Aegon hisses. “Puritanical goddamn hellscape. Old Testament bullshit.” He drags his fingers through his hair a few times, then pats your cheek like he did before: twice, gently, playfully. “Come on. Let’s go smoke.”

“I can’t do it on the balcony. Someone might get a picture.”

“Okay. No big deal. We’ll go to the roof.”

You stare at him. “The roof?”

“You really think I haven’t already been up there?” He stands and offers you his hand. “You’ll love it. The view is fantastic.”

The view is good, but the grass is better. You know that it makes some people useless, others paranoid, but for you it’s always painted the world a color that is softer, kinder, lighter, more bearable. You and Aegon lie next to each other, smoking and watching twilight fall over Houston like a spell. You’ll have to shower and gulp some Listerine before Aemond gets anywhere near you. It’s interesting; each day you seem to acquire new secrets to keep from him.

Aegon asks: “Where would you be right now if you weren’t Mrs. Targaryen?”

“Probably married to someone worse.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, but let’s say you weren’t. Let’s say you can do whatever you want.” He points up at the lavender sky and acts like he’s moving the emerging glimmers of stars around with his fingertip. “There, I’ve changed your fate. Who would you be?”

You ponder this. “I want to teach math to kids and then spend every summer break getting baked on some beach.”

Aegon cackles. “Hell, sign me up.” He lights a third joint for himself with his tiny chrome Zippo. “Those are the people doing the real work. Teachers, nurses, farmers electricians, plumbers, welders, firemen, therapists, janitors, public defenders. The normal, unglamorous types.”

“You don’t think presidents and senators make a difference?”

“Sure they do. But only like 5% of the job is actually helping people. The rest of it is schmoozing and tea parties and making speeches, because looking and sounding good is better than doing good. They’re addicted to vapid pretenses that make them feel important. You live like that and you forget how to be a human. I mean, look at Nixon. The man was raised as a Quaker, one of the most peaceful religions on earth, and now he’s planning to throw ten or twenty thousand more boys into the great Vietnamese meatgrinder and probably napalm the hell out of Cambodia and Laos while he’s at it to get the communists’ supply lines. The man’s got no idea who he is anymore. I’d feel sorry for him if I wasn’t so terrified he’s gonna start World War III.”

I wonder who Aemond was a few decades ago. “What makes you feel important?”

“Nothing,” Aegon says. “I’m not under any delusions that I matter.”

“I think you matter, old man.”

“Really?”

“A little bit. About this much.” You hold your hand up to show him the infinitesimal space between your thumb and index finger, and Aegon chuckles, his eyes glazed and bloodshot.

“Let’s do it,” he says with sudden, forceful conviction. “If Nixon wins in November, we’ll get out of here. I’ll go back to Yuma to teach on the reservation and you can come with me. You get a math class, I take English, or Music, or both, whatever. We’ll buy a bungalow out in the desert and make s’mores every night and look up at the stars. I’ll show you how to play guitar if you give me algebra lessons.”

You peek over at him, intrigued. “Is that all we’re going to do?”

“Well we’ll fuck, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously.” You giggle; it’s ridiculous, it’s paradisical, it’s insane how good it sounds. But surely that’s only because you’re high. “I don’t know how Mimi would feel about that.”

“She won’t care. She doesn’t want me anymore, hasn’t in years. Sometimes she just forgets that when she’s wasted. Mimi can go to Arizona too. We’ll load up the kids in a van and strap her to the roof.”

Now your voice is somber. “She was supposed to fix you.”

“Yeah,” Aegon says: slow, meditative, guilty. “I think Mimi and I have a few too many of the same demons.”

You roll over, push yourself up on your palms, and crawl to the edge of the rooftop. You prop your elbows on the ledge and gaze out into the city lights, the sky turning from violet to indigo to primordial darkness. Aegon joins you, staring down at the distant aquamarine rectangle of the hotel pool.

He asks: “You think I could make that?”

“No.”

“Should I try?”

“You definitely shouldn’t.”

“A few months ago, you would have pushed me off this roof.”

You shrug. “You’ve proved yourself useful.”

“That’s why you like me now? Because I’m useful?”

“Who said I like you?” you tease, smiling.

“You like me,” Aegon says, grinning and smug, radiant in the silver moonlight and urban incandescence. “You like me so much it scares you. But there’s no need to panic. It’s okay. I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You want to touch him, you want him to touch you, you want to study every arc and angle of him like he’s a marble statue in a garden: too beautiful to be mortal, too fragile to be divine.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three nights later in Nebraska, there is a knock on the door of your hotel suite. The nannies have herded the children off to bed; the adults are unwinding downstairs in the courtyard of the Sheraton Omaha, designed to resemble an Italian garden. There’s a brand new Jacuzzi that you’re looking forward to taking a dip in. You finish pulling on your swimsuit, white and patterned with sunflowers, a one-piece with a flared skirt.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Richard Nixon,” Aegon says through the door. “Naked. Horny. Please love me.”

You laugh and let him in. He’s leaning against the doorframe in Hawaiian swim trunks and nothing else, pink sunburn glowing on his soft chest. He holds up a brown paper bag and shakes it.

“For you.”

“What is it, heroin?” Instead, you open the bag to find small, circular packs of pills. “No way. You did not.”

“That’s enough for six months,” Aegon says, smirking, proud of himself. “I’ll be back again in February. Guess that makes me your dealer, babe. I don’t accept cash, checks, or cards, only sexual favors. You want to get down on your knees, or should I?”

“How did you get these?”

“I told a doctor they’re for one of my whores.”

“Maybe they are.”

You’ve surprised him, you’ve got him thinking about it now. His face flushes a splotchy, charming pink. “So, uh, you coming down to the courtyard?”

“Yeah. Right now. Just let me hide these first. Are there instructions in here…?”

“Mm hmm,” Aegon says, still distracted, studying the entirely unremarkable carpet. You stow the paper bag of birth control pills in the bottom of your bras and panties drawer, then walk with Aegon to take the elevator down to the ground floor. You both notice the bright red emergency stop button and share a glance, smirking, taunting.

In the courtyard, Alicent is struggling to pay attention as Helaena identifies each and every species of plant and explains where in the world it is native to. Fosco is simultaneously teaching Criston how to yo-yo and berating him for not believing the Cubs will end up in the World Series. Fosco has apparently bet $500 on them. Ludwika is stretched out on a lounge chair like a cat and reading a copy of Cosmopolitan. Aemond, wearing his eyepatch and a blue pair of swim trunks, appears to be arguing with Otto over the contents of a newspaper article. Mimi is alone in the Jacuzzi, bubbles rumbling all around her as she slumps against the rim, a frosty Gimlet clutched in one hand.

“Mimi, get out of the Jacuzzi,” you order.

“I’m fine!” she slurs, and you groan, knowing you’re going to have to drag her out.

Aemond is approaching; no, not approaching, raging. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck is this?” He hurls the newspaper at you, the Houston Chronicle. The headline reads: To Mrs. Targaryen, ending the Vietnam War is personal. “Why would you tell somebody that? Other papers are going to start reporting this. You gave them his full name. They’ve found his school, his friends, his gravesite in motherfucking Arlington National Cemetery—”

“You set me up,” you say. “You didn’t tell me about the hospital.”

Aegon takes the newspaper from you and frantically skims the article. “Hey, man,” he tells Aemond as he pieces it together, attempting to deescalate. It’s not a skill you knew he possessed. “She was rattled, she wasn’t thinking clearly. And there’s nothing bad in this article. It makes her sound invested and sympathetic, not…um…whatever you’re thinking.”

“You don’t get it,” Aemond seethes. “Journalists are going to start hounding his friends, his classmates, people who lived in his dorm building. Nixon’s newspapers will publish any gossip they can dig up about what she did when she was in school. Things people saw, things people overheard—”

“What, the fact that she had one boyfriend before she met you? That’s worthy of a nuclear meltdown?! Better prepare for Armageddon, a woman got laid, launch the goddamn warheads!”

“She doesn’t get to have a past! She should understand that, she signed up for this, she knew exactly what was expected of her!”

“And what about your past?” Aegon says, low and searing, and Aemond goes quiet. Their eyes are locked on each other: Aegon defiant, Aemond unnerved. You try to remember if you’ve ever seen that expression on his face before. You don’t think you have. Not even when he was shot and half-blinded. Not even when Ari died.

“What does that mean?” you ask your husband. Still staring at Aegon—tangled in a thorny, silent battle of wills—he doesn’t reply.

There are swift, thudding footsteps. Otto grabs Aegon by his hair, hooks a finger through the small gold hoop in his right ear, and tears it straight through the earlobe. Aegon screams as blood streams down his face, feeling the ravaged fringes of his flesh.

“I told you to take those out,” Otto says. “Now remove the other one before I rip it free, and go get yourself stitched up.”

You do something you’ve never done before, never even thought of. You strike out with both hands and shove Otto so hard he goes staggering backwards, his arms wheeling. The others are yelling and rushing over. Aemond is trying to yank you to him, but he can’t get a grip on your swimsuit. “I will kill you!” you roar at Otto. “I will push you down a staircase, I will slit your fucking throat, don’t you ever touch him!”

Alicent is weeping, appalled, trying to get a look at Aegon’s damaged ear. Criston is helping her, moving Aegon’s bloodied hair out of the way. Fosco links his arms around your waist and drags you out of Aemond’s reach just as he’s getting his fingers beneath a strap of your swimsuit. Helaena is covering her face with her hands and wailing. Ludwika is shrieking at Otto: “What did you do? Don’t give me that, what did you do?!”

You are engulfed with rage, red and irresistible. You’re trying to bolt out of Fosco’s grasp. You want to claw Otto’s eyes out; you want to put a bullet in him. As you struggle, you catch a glimpse of the Jacuzzi. You don’t see Mimi anymore.

“Wait,” you plead, but nobody hears you over the noise. You look desperately at Fosco. “Where’s Mimi?!”

Once he figures out what you’re trying to say, he whirls towards the Jacuzzi. “No!” he bellows, releasing you, and careens across the courtyard. You dash after him. Now the others understand, and they come running too. You see it just before Fosco dives in: there is a shadow at the bottom of the Jacuzzi. When he bursts up though the roiling water, he is carrying Mimi, limp and unconscious and blue.

Everyone is shouting at once. Fosco lays Mimi down on the cobblestones of the courtyard. Criston sends Ludwika to call an ambulance, kneels beside Mimi, checks for a pulse. Then he begins CPR. When he breathes air into her flooded lungs, there is no response, no resurrection.

“No, no, no, she has to be alright!” Aemond says, and everyone knows why. If she’s not, this will consume the headlines for days: no victorious campaigning, no speeches or photos, just a drowned alcoholic with a damning autopsy report.

“Oh my god,” Otto moans, pacing. “This can’t be happening, not this year, not now…”

Alicent seizes your hand and squeezes it until you think it will break. She is reciting prayers in Greek. Helaena is curled up under a butterfly bush, sobbing hysterically. When he realizes this, Otto hurries to comfort her.

“Don’t watch, Helaena. Let’s go inside, I’ll walk with you, there’s nothing more we can do here.”

“Mimi?!” Aegon commands, slapping her hard across the face. “Mimi, come on, wake up! Mimi? Mimi!” She’s still motionless, she’s still blue. Aegon turns to you, blood smeared all over the right side of his face. He’s petrified, he’s in shock. “I think she’s…she’s…”

“She’s gone,” Criston says; and he lifts his palms from her hollow body. The silent sky above is a labyrinth of bad stars.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fic #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii x you

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chaterbox1237 · 2 months

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Okay,so hades two has just released and I want to talk about some things:

On one hand,no narrator Zagreus which was something I hoped would happen so :(

But on the other hand,NARRATOR HOMER CONFIRMED!

I already like Apollo.he’s fun.

Dora is so cute.

In the trailer I got “strict teacher vibes” from Hecate but it’s a pleasant surprise to see how soft she is with baby Mel.

Also the portrait with zag,hades,and Persephone…

(They better not be dead supergiants-)

HYPNOS WHO DID THIS TO YOU

But on the topic,I think it’ll be an Orpheus situation where the second(or even third) boss gives us an item like a divine water bucket or something that we can use to wake him up.

Oh look a reason to use the cast.

HERMES IS MISSING?SUPERGIANTS WTF DONT TELL ME THAN IS NEXT-

Okay,but I also think this could be something like in hades early access were they aluded to things that’ll be added later.

This adds up with the fact that in hades 1 Hermes was the penultimate god added and you can’t get him till asphodel(i think)

Either way he better be okay.

The character portraits range from “pretty good”to “yep this is gonna get touched up” but not in a bad way.just that the shading look kind of off

Also I already love Hephaestus and hestia.

They are hyping up hestia as a nice grandma that can go unhinged if needed and I am all for it.

As soon as I saw Odysseus I already knew It’d be hilarious if Poseidon was there and what do you know?

Speaking of,I wonder if all gods from hades 1 are gonna come back or a few are gonna get switched around.

If so then ares is probably getting shafted which makes me sad.

On that topic,Aphrodite wearing ares’ war makeup is great.

Seeing Selene made me wonder if Helios is gonna appear,but then I remembered Apollo.

But even then i still want other titans to be added like the air guys just so that we can have an Apollo/zephyr interaction if possible.(if you know you know.

If Hermes does appear in this game I wish he has duo’s with other gods.(and his own curse)

I also wish that since we see Artemis outside of the boon bubble we can have profesional associates interactions.

#hadesgame #hades game #hades supergiant #supergiant games #supergiant hades #hades 2 #hades zagreus #hades apollo #hades Dora #hades Hecate #hades hypnos #hades hermes #hades Hephaestus #hades hestia #hades Odysseus #hades ares #hades aphrodite #hades Selene #hades artemis

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 3 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Coloring Pages And Baby Fever

content: leo valdez x daugher of poseidon! reader fic warning: maybe cursing but i really don't think so??, toothrotting fluff, discussion of kids and futures and whatnot author's note: this one BRO THIS ONE- i dont even want kids idk where this came from fr. also, leo is a girl dad. everyone can stfu if you don't agree. her middle name is his momma's name, obvi. but that's just a headcanon, a COVEY headcanon jk jk

y/n always held a soft spot in her heart for the younger half-bloods. she arrived at camp at seven and she was a sobbing mess inside the hermes cabin then the poseidon cabin. she couldn’t imagine going through that at a younger age. which is why she always volunteered to run the younger kids activities rather than participate in some of the more grown up games. today was coloring of greek mythology. y/n wasn’t sure what part of the internet chrion pulled these from, little explanations put in bold next to the coloring pages and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. maybe a past apollo child, grown up to be an illustrator just for camp half-blood. y/n was detailing away at a cartoonish hippocampus, smiling softly at one of the girls who ran up to show y/n her drawing of her mother, athena.

“aww, phoebe, it looks so good!!” she mused, excitedly looking over it, shamelessly ignoring the scribbles over the lines and the mixing of wrong colors. in phoebe’s defense, she was only eight.

“thanks, y/n!! i based it off of how my daddy describes her all the time!” phoebe explained, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

“must be accurate then, you clever girl!” she joined in, smiling widely at her before handing the paper back, settling a hand against her back and pointing towards chiron, who was resting in the shade with a book in his lap, “now, go show mr. chiron and tell him what you learned.”

“okay!!” the girl bubbles, snatching her picture back and racing towards the centaur, who looks up with a warm smile towards the girl, happily indulging her. y/n felt a poke against her ribs, spinning around with a warm look since she knew who it was.

“how are you so good with them?” leo huffed, crossing his arms as he stared down at his terrible doodling of the battle of troy. he taken up following y/n to kiddy camp; one because he loved spending as much time as he could with his girl, and two because harley asked him to start coming. y/n glanced down at his work, nearly melting at the sight. helena took a striking resemblance to y/n and troy to leo, something that wasn’t lost on the girl.

“i dunno. exposure therapy? i used to teach little kids how to surf a long, long time ago,” y/n laughed, shaking her head slightly before pointing over at his drawing.

“that’s what you think helena looked like?” she questioned with a smirk, pointing a blue crayon at him. his cheeks warmed up but he didn’t lose his cool.

“yup. what do you think of troy? handsome guy, isn’t he?” he pushed, leaning closer. y/n snorted, shaking her head at him.

“the hottest,” she agreed with a roll of her eyes, earning a shove against her shoulder.

“don’t be looking at other men! so disrespectful to our relationship!” leo huffed, setting a hand against his chest in mock hurt. y/n laughed harder, leaning against his shoulder before pushing off him with a shake of her head, looking around her boyfriend at the shy child on the other side of him.

“can you believe this guy, harley?” y/n asked, smiling warmly at the little boy, who looked up at the older teens with wide-eyed wonder.

“he’s pretty silly,” harley agreed, swinging his feet under the table happily.

“the silliest,” she added, wrinkling her nose at the boy before looking down at his coloring, “oh, super cool coloring of the argonauts, harley!”

“thanks! leo’s told me all about this story,” harley stated, smiling up at his older brother, who returned the gesture.

“sure did. one of my favorites,” leo hummed, eyes growing distant at the thoughts that swarmed. the nightmarish time he had on that damn boat, the constant fighting, the constant worrying, the weight of the world on his shoulders. he snapped out of it as y/n subtly set a hand against his thigh, though she didn’t acknowledge it. he rested his hand on top of hers, pressing his lips to the top of her hair without another thought.

“did he? hmm, i don’t think i've heard it before. you wanna tell me about it, harley?” y/n asked, tilting her head at the boy. i’d heard the story hundreds of times - chiron reused the same website every year so one kid always ended up telling her the story at some point - but she knew harley was having a bit of a hard time. leo had been stressing about it for a bit now and she figured she could help.

“you really haven’t heard about it?” harley questioned, frowning slightly as he didn’t believe her. panic flared in y/n’s eyes and leo was quick to save her.

“y/n is so busy with all her quests and training that she barely has time to listen to stories, harley,” leo reasoned, shrugging his shoulders like it was common sense.

“oh. i guess that makes sense,” harley muttered, glancing down at his feet for a moment.

“come on, harley. i’ve got time now! i feel like i'm missing out on something big. come here, between leo and i,” she told the younger boy, putting on a pout.

he laughed a little at the look on her face before squeezing between leo and i, setting his drawing down on the table and using his cubby fingers to point at specific people in the drawing. he rambled on and on about it, clearly something that fascinated him. y/n asked questions like she was confused by the topic and gasped at the appropriate moments.

leo just stared at her over harley’s head, feeling his heart race and his mouth go dry and the tips of his ears light on fire only for him to quickly snuff it out. he started to imagine what it would be like to do this in the kitchen of their home and instead of harley in the middle, a child of their own. a wedding band on both of their hands and vows stronger than the river styx. y/n caught his gaze over harley’s head, giving him a soft smile and leo melted at it. he loved her with everything inside him and he could feel the love from her radiating off in waves. from the way she looked at him to the smiles she gave him. he could feel it. like the sun when your eyes are closed. that warmth that manages to seep through your eyelids

“aren’t they just the coolest?!” harley exclaimed, proudly wrapping up his story.

“yeah!! super cool. jason reminds me of someone but i can’t quite think of who,” y/n mused, tapping her finger against her chin in false thought. leo snorts, looking away as he covers it with a cough.

y/n glanced across the table, noticing a little boy following along with what harley was saying, but trying to be as subtle as a child can be. she knew him, ryder, one of the new hermes kids. she already had a feeling the stoll brothers were rubbing off on him, based on the sunglasses set upon his drawing of apollo. he was around harley’s age and her eyes twinkled at the opportunity.

“hey, harley,” y/n whisper down to the boy, leaning down to his level. he looks up at her with wide eyes, asking a quiet ‘what?’

“i think someone else wants to hear the story of the argonauts,” she tells him, nodding her head towards ryder, who looked shocked that the attention was on him and quickly dropped his head and returned to his drawing. harley paled slightly and began wringing his hands, nervously.

“hey, dude, it’s okay. we’ll be right here the whole time. just start talking and it’ll just flow. trust me. it’s just like at the forge. it’ll start to flow,” leo cut in, setting a gentle hand against the boy's shoulder. harley took a deep breath before blowing it out.

“just like at the forge,” he mumbled before grabbing his drawing, his small fists crumbling the drawing the slightest bit before he moved around the table and up to ryder, who looked at him, intrigued. leo and y/n both leaned forwards to hear better, though they pretended like they didn’t, trying to give harley his space.

“h- hi, i’m harley. i’m from c-cabin 9, son of hephestus,” harley managed to get out, holding his hand out to the blonde boy.

“hey! i’m ryder! cabin 11, son of hermes,” ryder told him, proudly, shaking harley’s hand vigorously. harley couldn’t help but laugh at the rapid hand shake and y/n set her hand over her heart at the action, giving leo a look as tears filled her eyes. he laughed at the emotional daughter of poseidon, rubbing a hand over her shoulders.

“do you want to hear the story of the argonauts?” harley asked, tilting his head, much like leo. surely a habit picked up over time.

“totally!” ryder cheered, nodding his head as his blond hair ruffled about and he moved over, giving harley space next to him. when ryder looked away, harley gave the older couple a proud thumbs up with a toothy grin before making a shooing motion with his hands.

“are we being sent away?!” leo asked, incredulously, with his jaw dropped.

“i think so. little rascal,” y/n replied, shaking her head at him before standing up, taking both of their drawings. she shot a glance over her shoulder, watching the two boys excitedly talk to each other and tears filled her eyes all over again.

“i’m so proud of him. oh, gods, i’m gonna cry,” y/n gasp out, laughing at the craziness of it. leo laughs with her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. y/n started thinking about how she'll react when their son does the same thing, which brings on a whole new wave of tears. their son. leo and hers. y/n looked at him, her lower lip wobbling. he sees this, tilting his head, a little worried.

“what?”

“i love you so much,” she whisper to him and he smiles, his brows unfurrowing.

“no need to cry about it, hun,” he laughs and y'n hits his ribs and shove him away from herself. he quickly comes back and wraps his arms over her shoulders, locking them together just over her chest.

“i love you too much to put into words,” he replied, shoving a kiss against her cheek.

“that’s a first,” y/n bit back, hearing a chuckle from behind and feeling the rumble of his chest against her back.

“leo, y/n, you’re off shift. we’re taking over,” will says, nodding towards one of the demeter guys he was with. she give him a thumbs up and a smile before a little girl looks over at them with sad eyes.

“y/n’s leaving?!” she asked, tears already pooling.

“hey, it’s okay. will’s a super good friend of mine and he’s so much fun! i promise you’re gonna have a blast, honey. plus, you get to spend tomorrow with me!” y/n tells her, rubbing a hand against her shoulder before nodding at will to take over, which he did, kneeling next to her and asking about her shirt to distract her.

“they don’t react like that when i leave,” leo pouted, slinging an arm over y/n's shoulder and she raised a brow at him.

“because you don’t interact with them, dear,” she mused, leaning into his side with a bright smile as they made our way towards her cabin.

“touche,” he replied, nodding his head before he glazed off for a moment before wetting his lips and opening his mouth, “do you think i’d make a good dad?”

y/n paused at her cabin door, frowning at this question as she looked over at him like he grew three heads.

“the best dad. what a stupid question. i expected better than that, hothead,” she tells him, swinging the door open and walking towards her side of the cabin, set aside for the girls, though it was just her.

“i’m being serious,” leo argued as he shut the door, still frowning a bit, “i mean, i have no idea what a good dad is supposed to look like. and i can’t talk to those kids like you can. and-”

“leo.” y/n cut in and he stops, snapping his eyes up to hers and taking a calming breath.

“if i thought you’d be a bad dad, we wouldn’t be together. if i had any inkling that i couldn’t put my future in your hands, i would have never wasted my time getting to know you. and you’re good with the kids, but in your own way. like, harley. you could talk that kid off a ledge. and it’s not just because he idolizes you. it’s because he trusts you, leo valdez. just like everyone else does. just like i do,” she told him, gently setting her hand against his chest. y/n reaches her other hand up to his cheek, rubbing it with her thumb. he draped his arms around her waist, pressing his head into the junction between her neck and shoulder. him, pressing kisses to the sun kissed skin. y/n paused for a moment before pulling him impossibly closer.

“i want one,” she muttered against his curls, hiding her head in his shirt. she could feel the confusion radiating off him.

“one what?” he asked, always wanting to meet her every request.

“a baby. of our own,” y/n whispers, her voice cracking a bit, the thought scaring but exciting her. leo pulled back to see her eyes, to which he smiled softly at the look in them. one he could only describe as love.

“me too, y/n,” he states, firmly, like it was already set in stone but then he tilted his head at her, resting his hand against her cheek, “but, it’s a bit early.”

“lee,” y/n pouts, sinking into his hand a little though she knew he was right. he laughs lightly.

“i gotta put a ring on that finger of yours first. get a nice house away from all the monsters and gods. then we can revisit this,” he reasons, tucking his hand inside of hers. he talks about an escape that will never come but she doesn't tell him that. instead, y/n closes her eyes and pictures the house, cozy and lived in. she pictures the wedding, leo at the end of the aisle in a suit, percy walking her down the aisle like she always promised him he would. y/n pictures the nursery, set up for a little girl who looks just like her dad.

“okay…we’ll wait then,” y/n whispers against his lips, pressing hers to his softly before pulling back, “i’d wait lifetimes for you; for that.”

“you won’t have to. not in this lifetime,” he mutters before pulling her back into his lips, more of a collision than a kiss. she couldn’t help but smile against his lips, knowing she'd found the kind of love she always wanted. the kind that transcends death and age; the kind of love that is generations in the making.

three years later, on that same day, y/n and leo would find out they were expecting their first child.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #heroes of olympus #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez

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heartmii · 4 months

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TOA 01

✮⋆apollo x male!reader

!warnings!: angst, mentions of blood, anything else anyone sees and is uncomfortable with please let me know!

✮⋆˙ woo chapter two!! I'm excited to release this but also super nervous because I added a twist that I'm not sure everyone will love but I mean, it's a story about mythical beings so I decided to just have fun with it!

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“What did you do?” Anger seethed through the ex-god, his shaky breath competed with the rapid thump of his heart against his chest. Apollo’s eyes snapped to the now smug smiling emperor, the fury in his chest growing.

“Oh? Are you not happy with what you see?” Caligula asked, voice laced with fake concern. He clicked his tongue, his eyes surveying his servants in dissatisfaction. “The gods,” he sighed, shaking his head. “So hard to please. You surprise them with the dead love of their life, and still, it’s not enough for them to say thank you. Such egos, it’s a shame, really.”

Apollo swallowed, an attempt at soothing the dryness that was now overtaking his throat. “That’s not possible. It’s an illusion. It has to be…” he faltered, his body deflating as he dropped onto the ground.

Apollo was a god turned mortal. He was from the mythical world and saw many things, things that one alone could not comprehend, things that don’t make sense, that shouldn’t be able to happen because it went beyond the natural order of the mortal and mythical world. Yet, somehow, you being brought back from the dead was not an acceptance that came easily to him.

It’d been years, years, since your death, but you lived. Alive in Apollo’s mind. There was not a day, not a century, not even a millennium, that Apollo did not think of you and the bittersweet memories you two shared. Your grace and your beauty, along with the essence of your soul, were immortalized for eternity in his heart, where he could forever nourish your memory and honor your legacy.

Please… Who was he kidding? Honoring your legacy? Him? Apollo had done nothing but trash on everything you stood behind! If anything, he went against what you fought so desperately for. There was blood on his hands. The blood of many innocent lives he so easily discarded with no regard for their being. The option of others having a choice was previously nonexistent in the ex-god’s mind. He’d force many people to do his bidding and castigate them if they rejected.

Including those he loved after your time.

His heart clenched as Daphne’s horrified face filled his mind. Her expression contrasting his hopeful one as he chased her through the forest surrounding mount Olympus. It was Eros who, so full of spite, caused her to hate the mere thought of Apollo’s face. So much so that she begged her father, Peneus, desperate for help. He’d heard her prayers and granted her salvation.

But even after the last branch formed from Daphne’s outstretched arm and she had fully become a prospering laurel tree, Apollo did not allow her to rest peacefully. He had plucked the leaves from her branches and formed what was now known to be one of his most notable symbols. The laurel reef.

Daphne didn’t love Apollo. No, she despised him so much that she believed death was better than remaining on earth with him, but even that he had stolen from her.

Just like you, Daphne was immortalized in the memories and stories of people but met the tragic fate of being forever tied to the very god that she had died escaping, tainting her name with his own and taking away her right to a peaceful death. Apollo may not have been the one that forced her to take her last breath, but it was he who pushed her to such a state of helplessness that she felt there was no other option.

Perhaps that was why the thought of you being alive was so agonizing to him, because then you would learn about the monster he had become and how all of those promises he made to you under the moonlight had become nothing but empty words he spewed under the drunken spell of love.

How could he look you in your eyes now? Eyes that always glimmered with determination as you spouted your ideals and all the great you planned to do in the world…how could he look at those same eyes and say that he failed to do what you had dreamed, what you both dreamed. Even if that dream died for Apollo a long time ago.

Caligula considered Apollo for a moment before grabbing your arm and moving you back into his line of sight. He turned back to the ex god, his smile now wicked and sadistic, vastly enjoying the conflicting grief in his eyes.

“You haven’t taken a proper look at him. As he was once your lover, there’s no doubt in my mind you’ve memorized his body. You should have no trouble deducing if he’s a fake or not.”

How odd was it that Apollo, who had been literally fighting for his life these past few months and wanted nothing more but to evade conflict, wished he was dodging swinging swords, and running from giant monsters that chased him and his friends instead of being here, simply standing and being forced to stare at the person most precious to him.

Yet, he had succumbed to the small part of him that was a tad curious if it truly was you.

His breath staggered, and he stood on wobbly legs, anxiously meeting your stare, only to regret it immediately.

There they were, those eyes. Hypnotic as they had willed Apollo into your grasp, and enchanted him with an infatuation that ran deep in his blood. The same hunger swirled within them in a way that could only be described as honest passion. The intensity made Apollo’s heart skip a beat, and he trembled under your gaze.

It was said that one’s eyes were the window into their soul, a quote which honestly was quite dated and overused, but as you searched deep within Apollo, he felt his own soul stir in response. His body had recognized its missing piece and, like a magnet, it fought to connect again.

Your souls were bound to each other. The fates decreed that the moment you two met. There was no way Apollo wouldn’t have known if you were a fake.

In case he was completely wrong and in over his head, he took action to make sure he was absolute in his observation. It hurt to tear his sight away from your face, but he allowed himself to survey the rest of you, as Caligula suggested.

His eyes roamed your body with a frown.

How strange. You appeared to be… out of this world.

Your aura, although it had always been charming, was different in a way Apollo could not put his finger on. Something about you filled him with an irresistible sensation he had never felt with you before.

Could it be Lester’s human hormones could not handle the gorgeous sight of his past lover and therefore appeared to be more appetizing than usual?

No, that couldn’t be it. Yes, mortals could definitely be extremely tempting creatures, but they didn’t hold the same weight and power as they did with gods. Many felt enchanted just by the mere sight of one. It was not a simple task to break away from their inviting aura and fight the urge to give in to their desires.

Your aura was similar; An inviting force emitting from you. But how? You weren’t a god… were you?

Apollo gagged internally at the thought, his insides twisting at the possibility of you being a deity.

Being mortal was the very essence of your existence. It was nauseating how you nurtured the role like it was your life’s purpose, facing no fear towards things such as death or illness, claiming that these tragedies were simply just a part of being human and running from it would do nothing but force you to live in a world of clouds where you’d constantly be lost amongst the fog.

Becoming a deity would’ve made your death a vain sacrifice for what you believed and enduring an eternity of grief would’ve been for nothing. Days of forcing the sun to shine upon the earth when Apollo himself was lost in the overwhelming darkness of his heart as his guiding light, his sun, was gone. Constantly, he searched for another you because the void left in him hurt too much, but of course, none had come as close to his heart as you did because in the end, all he wanted was you and he caged his heart behind iron bars out of fear of experiencing grief on that level ever again.

There was only one who had been close to unlocking his heart again after you. His dear Hyacinthus. Oh, how the boy had reminded Apollo of you in so, so, many ways. The both of you were graceful, heads held high as you smiled at all that you loved. Adored by many as anyone who came to meet you was always enthralled by your allure and hearts of gold. But alas, love was never in Apollo’s favor, and his precious Hyacinthus met a tragic fate when he was murdered by the conniving and envious wind god, Zephyrus.

It was almost comical how similar your deaths were. A sadistic joke played on Apollo. All hope he ever had for another love as great as you and Hyacinthus went out the window and following that was a now numb and manipulative god who allowed himself to know his lovers but never allowed them to know him.

All of that guilt he felt for abusing his authority and refusing to see his lover’s as equals, all the shame for not living up to par with what you wanted, would’ve been for nothing. Along with the stab of knowing that you didn’t choose HIM over your ideals when he would’ve burned the world for you, was all too much. No, you couldn’t be a deity because then Apollo would never forgive you.

He could not bear these thoughts and, for once, Apollo was glad when Caligula spoke to him as he had distracted him from the fogginess building up in his eyes.

Caligula waved his hand in the ex-god’s face, surveying him. “I’ll take the dumb look on your already idiotic face as confirmation that you’ve recognized that this is the real deal.” He turned to you, “I know how, uh… different…Apollo must look to you. Surely, it must be traumatic to come back from the dead and your once powerful and radiant lover is now pathetic, weak, and ugly. Do you believe this to be the god you once loved?”

Apollo huffed, once because he could not deny that Lester’s face was, in fact, idiotic and again because of Caligula’s question. Your eyes were good, but they weren’t that good. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been blessed with seeing beyond the mist, a trait that could’ve saved your life.

“You ask him a question he cannot answer. He would not recognize me in such a body—“

“Yes.” You cut him off and stepped closer. Apollo sucked in his bottom lip as your hands had come up to run your fingers through his hair. Oh, how he missed your touch. The way you handled him like he was a piece of glass. Then you spoke again, your voice being in that delicious and melodic tone that made heat travel up Apollo’s neck to the tips of his ears. Damn this body.

“Although in a different body, your scent remains the same… how bizarre. Might it be your soul I smell?” You muttered, your fingers dragging down Apollo’s cheek.

Apollo shuttered at your touch, the coolness of your finger soothing his warm face. But as much as he wanted to allow you to continue your exploration of his body, he could not shake off what you had said. “My scent—- What does that mean? — How is your nose even that good?—“

“Bravo! It appears love truly conquers all!” Caligula clapped, pulling you away from Apollo and making the ex-god frown. Something wasn’t right about you, besides being a walking corpse. Death was not his domain, but as far as Apollo was aware, coming back from the dead did not include the nose of a hellhound.

“What did you do to him?” He asked Caligula, pinning his arms to his side as they had once again trembled.

Caligula stared at Apollo questioningly. “What did I do?” He laughed. “You are funny, dear. This fiasco was not my idea. All I want from you is to squeeze out the final essence of godhood that’s left in that lanky vessel. If you were smart, you would’ve directed your attention to the only witch in the room.”

Apollo’s eyes swiftly met Medea’s sadistic ones. She had silently been watching the previous conversation from the side. Gods, he was so caught up in the sight of you he had forgotten all about the Wicked Witch of the East.

“How rude of you to put me on the spot. I haven’t prepared my speech.” Medea purrs and approaches, circling around you before landing her hands on your shoulders. “On the contrary, love does not, in fact, conquer all.” She said, referring to Caligula’s earlier comment.

“Instead, it leads people to their doom. It makes them think with their hearts and not their heads. The most powerful beings,” Apollo cursed himself for flinching after she had eyed him with a knowing look. “Have been brought down onto their knees in the name of love. As you all know, I, myself, have been a victim of this. After Jason betrayed me.”

“I don’t understand.” Apollo interjected. “I had nothing to do with Jason’s betrayal against you.”

“Oh, I am aware. But that is not why I brought him up.”

“You see, my heart had never bled as much as it did when I was in love. I yearned to serve Jason. To become half of his soul as his life, his goals, had become my own. I was high on that feeling. A feeling you must know well, yes?” The smile on her face was one Apollo did indeed recognize.

A smile that did not reach one’s eyes, that was all for show to hide your true misery. He hated sympathizing with the witch, but he knew exactly what she meant.

It seemed his face wasn’t so good at hiding his feelings either, as Madea had nodded to herself in what seemed to be satisfaction. “I needed something against you, Apollo. But what was something that would hold such great power over an ex-Olympian God? It couldn't be physical, no, that would be too merciful. I needed something, or someone, that could cause such turmoil within you that the thought of even fighting against it would cause you great sorrow.”

“Well, isn’t that thoughtful? Putting in all that effort into destroying little ol’me.”

She sneered, her eyes narrowing. “I studied you. Studied how I could control you, and imagine my surprise when I found out about an unclaimed lover of yours.” Her hands go to you, caressing your arms and making Apollo livid. “It seems not everything made it into the history books.”

Grime stained Apollo’s face, becoming one with the hot tears sliding down his cheeks. His hands ached as he pulled apart dirt from the ground with none other than his fingers. He could’ve called someone and ordered them to do the laboring task on their own. But he refused. He had to do this alone. He had to bury you himself.

No one should be able to see you, to touch you, to be around you. Not anymore. You were too sacred, too precious for this cursed world. But Apollo was selfish. He took you away from the earth, took you away from the rest of your family, just to have you rest under his domain.

The god’s choked cries turned into loud sobs as his fingers dug deeper into the sacred dirt of Delos, shimmering gold tainting the soil. He welcomed the blood seeping from his hand; the pain was deserved. It was nothing compared to what you must’ve felt when his father had struck you down, but he needed to feel something. Anything that would compensate for the agony you went through before drawing your final breath.

Delos, where he and Artemis were born. The land that had once been his aunt, Asteria, who had transformed herself into a floating island to get away from the advances of Zeus. Where she provided sanctuary for his mother as she ran from the wrath of Hera on earth. This is where Apollo would bury you, a place that would now provide you sanctuary as it did for his family. A place where you could rest unbothered by the world.

The hole was deep enough now, and Apollo had pulled himself out of it. A coffin waited for him and he involuntarily walked towards it, dragging his hand against it. The coffin had been turned from a simple block of stone to a grand piece of imagery. All along its sides had Apollo carved into it, creating depictions of milestones in your relationship. The first time you met, along with the time he revealed to you he was a god followed by the countless times he’d let you play on his lyre and of course, the first ‘I love you.’ Amongst many more.

He was gentle with the coffin when he picked it up, moving slowly when he brought it over to the open ground. Apollo bit his lip, holding back his weeping so that he could focus on lowering you into the hole.

It was done. You were really gone, and Apollo would never be yours again.

“What are you doing here?” Apollo asked, his voice hoarse and his eyes bleak. He was sitting on the ground, painting a gravestone.

Grass crunched behind him as someone approached. “You’re burying him here?”

Apollo’s wrist kept moving, his brush creating faces on the gravestone. Still, he answered, “Cut the crap, Artemis.”

Artemis crossed her arms, frowning at her brother’s words. “I was born here too, Apollo. I have just as much right to be here as you do.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” Apollo snapped, the brush falling from his fingers.

“Knew what?” Artemis asked.

“Don’t lie to me Artemis.” Apollo stood, finally facing his twin. “You knew father would kill him!”

Artemis flinched as she caught wind of Apollo’s face, the puffiness under his eyes red and throbbing. Yet she recovered quickly, shaking Apollo’s arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

He placed his hands back onto her, gripping her in more of a desperate plea than before. “Please, sister, tell me the truth. Did you know that father would kill him?”

. “I…” she started, her chest growing heavy as she felt Apollo’s fingers shake against her. Swallowing carefully, she moved her eyes to your grave. “Yes, I knew… we all did.”

Apollo’s grip on her tightened, his eyes becoming glassy at the revelation. “Why didn’t you tell me? Were you sworn to secrecy? Is that why you didn’t tell me? Father is frightening. I understand if he forced you to swear on the River Styx—”

“He didn’t force me to do anything.”

“What…?”

“Oath did not bind me to not say anything to you. I simply chose not to.” Artemis stated, throwing Apollo off of her once again. Her head held high as she watched for his reaction.

Apollo stared at her, his eyes widening in disbelief. He shook his head. “You knew how much I loved him, you knew father was going to kill him and you didn’t tell me! I don’t understand, Artemis. You are my sister, my twin, my blood. How… how could you?”

“That is exactly why! Apollo, you are my other half. We are two sides of the same coin. We might be related to the others, but their bond is not like ours. That boy was leading you to your demise. I have nothing against him, but you are who I care about most. I didn’t want to see him dead, but I didn’t want to see my brother subjected to an eternal punishment, either.” Artemis finished, her own resolve fading as she too shook at the thought of Apollo being hurt.

Apollo’s jaw clenched. “Well, sister,” he started, malice seeping into his voice, “It seems you’ve failed anyway because a life without him is the worst punishment I could ever endure.”

“Demigods!” Medea yelled out, bringing awareness to Meg and Jason’s presence in the room. They couldn’t speak anyway, not while they were stuck in the wind tornadoes Medea had stuck them in. “This is important. Pay attention.”

“Delphi was a known city-state of ancient Greece. A city state where you, Apollo, were the patron god of. But the Delphi that lives in myths, the one that we know, is not the Delphi that has always been.”

Through the corner of his eye, Apollo watched as both Meg and Jason’s expressions formed into one of confusion.

“Once upon a time ago, Apollo betrayed Zeus. However, that’s not a surprise, that is a story that still lives. What didn’t make it, though, was the entire punishment your father had you experience. The gods said you were forced to build the gates of Troy alongside Poseidon. But what they failed to mention was the part where Zeus took everything from you. Your lover and your city. Isn’t that right?”

Apollo opened his mouth to speak, eager to defend his story. He knew where this was going and dread filled his stomach.

Medea spoke before he could. “Oh, but that’s not even the best part! The original Delphi had its own royal family, a family that your boy-toy had been born to.” She comes to your side, raising your hand up. “Here stands the last prince of Delphi before its initial destruction. After a few years, Apollo rebuilt Delphi and got rid of all the evidence of its history. But thanks to my digging, I could uncover all of this.”

Behind him, the Pandai were ready to lunge forward and capture Apollo as he had taken on a defensive stance against Medea. “Who told you this? The only person who knew about where I buried him was my sister.”

Medea scoffed. “Oh, please, if you want to hide the body of your dead lover, do it somewhere that’s not your famous birthplace that everyone knows about. It was the first place I checked.”

Apollo’s eyes ripped away from hers as blood rushed to his head. She was right, and he was an idiot to think that if someone wanted to find your body, they wouldn’t look on Delos. In his defense, it had been four thousand years since your death.

Medea smirked at the red dusting Apollo’s cheeks.

“Everything fell into place for me after that. You preserved his body well, I expected dust only to find that his body was enchanted to stay in good shape. It was perfect for my plan. I needed to bring him back from the dead without actually bringing him back, as I did not want to deal with Hades. He needed to be undead. I looked for spells beyond Ancient Greece and came upon the perfect solution within the dark arts—

“I’ve had enough of your talking,” Apollo sneered, glaring at the witch. “What have you turned him into?”

“Patience.” She hissed, “I sacrificed my rarest properties along with human blood to create an elixir that would wake up this sleeping beauty. It took days to restore him to full health. But finally, when he did wake, he was radiant. No longer was he a meek mortal. His senses had heightened as he was now strong and blessed with speed, his ears picked up on sounds from miles away, and a nose made for hunting. There’s more, I'm sure of it, but he is still fresh and needs time to develop. So what did I turn him into, you ask?”

Medea sent Apollo one last wicked smile before dropping information that made the ex-god wish he was dead.

“I have turned the long-lost Prince of Delphi into a vampire.”

#pjo x reader #pjo x male reader #trials of apollo x reader #apollo x male reader #apollo x reader #trials of apollo #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus

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faithshouseofchaos · 5 months

Text

So the journey begins —

Hades!Max Verstappen x daughter reader ft. Hermes!Lando and Apollo!Daniel— part two

Tagged— @moss-on-tmblr @natailiatulls07 @norrisleclercf1 @toasttt11 @vivwritesfics @vellicora @venusisnothere @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @alwayzbeenale @badassturtle13 @charlesf1leclerc @crashingwavesofeuphoria @ironcowboycopnickel @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @ladymarvel27 @hollie911 @bblouifford @purplephantomwolf @formulas-bitch @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27

@toasttt11 this is starting to become a little mini series but I don’t think anyone minds

You stared at the man with a skeptical look on your face “No offense but wouldn’t my dad be in his mid-forties or fifties by now? You look like you’re in your twenties” you said looking at Hermes.

“Well, not really when a god or goddess reaches a certain age we just stop aging. It’s the same for you, you'll still age but slower than a human would” he explained.

You nodded your head “Speaking of my father, who is he? My mom never talked about him.” You asked Lando looked up at you, his color draining from his face “Your… mother?” He asked “Yeah my mother you know the woman that my father left and didn’t care to come see on her deathbed that mother” Lando gulped before answering “y/n your mother died during childbirth the woman who raised you took you from your father” he said.

“You lying”

“I’m not your father loves you and he misses you. Trust me if he didn’t care he wouldn’t have sent Erebus to protect you and he wouldn’t have been talking to you in your head when helping you escape the lotus. I’m here because of him to give you something to help you on your journey”

“Who the hell is Erebus?” You asked confused.

“Your guardian or companion for your journey. What did you think his man was?”

“I don’t know Pita”

“Pita?”

“Yeah, you know pain in my ass. It’s been sarcasm and sass for the past few hours”

“Makes sense”

“Hey, what did you mean when you said that the woman who raised me wasn’t my mother?” You asked your voice cracking.

“That isn’t my place to talk about that you should ask your father when you see him”

“If I see him I don’t even know where he is or who he is”

Lando smiles “Your father is Hades the god of the underworld he goes by Max” he explained.

“Max is he a dog why on earth would a god want to go by the name Max”

“He likes the name we all have human names to help us blend in”

“It’s just Max is so basic”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that when I see him next. Now for official business, I present to you a bag to help you with your journey” Lando explained, pulling a large backpack out of thin air and handing it to you.

Taking the bag you unzipped it and looked at its contents

Money and lots of it

Funky-looking coins

A big metal jug of water

Some junk food

A small knife

A book

An iPod with music???

A couple of changes of clothes

A thick coat

“Ok question um what are these gold coin-looking things and why a book and an iPod?” You asked confused.

“Ok the coins are drachmas and Daniel must have added the iPod and book,” Lando says.

“Ok, another question: whose Daniel?”

“Oh Daniel, that's his human name. His actual name is Apollo. He's a walking ball of sunshine and is always smiling. His whole thing is poetry and music. He kinda has a Peace and love kinda vibe. He also has your dad wrapped around his finger”

“Oh really?!”

“Yeah, they’re close friends. Daniel thought you would enjoy this author Edgar Allen Poe who wrote these dark yet beautiful poems. And well who doesn’t like music”

“We’ll tell him I said thank you”

“I will let him know, now back to the mission at hand which is your journey. You can’t get there by plane or by boat. It's forbidden. So you’ll have to travel at night by using the shadow portals. You'll have to get to Las Vegas, there’s this recording studio called Dead on Arrival that's where the entrance to the underworld is. I also have something else for you "Lando says as he hands you a dark jet-black crystal on a necklace and a black cloak.

“Dead on Arrival like the fall out boy song?”

“No it’s nothing like the song”

“Oh okay What are these for?” You asked, rubbing your thumb on the black crystal..? No obsidian, that's what it was. You could feel the power coming from both the cloak and Obsidian.

“They are to help you travel through the shadows”

“Yeah because that makes perfect sense”

“Yeah I don't know how it works but Erburs will show and help you”

“Ok then,” you said, placing the necklace around your neck.

“Oh one more thing, Erburs was created to protect you. Most Demigods have Saturs to protect them but you don’t Erburs were a part of your father at one point in time so trust him”

“Yeah that’s the problem I don’t know who or what to trust anymore,” you said looking down.

“Trust Yourself”

“What?”

“Trust yourself, trust your instincts, your gut, believe and trust in yourself,” Lando says gently, getting out of the booth and placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Good luck and remember what I said,” Lando says walking out of the dinner.

Finishing up breakfast you gather everything that Lando gave you and walk out outside into a dark alley Where you find PITA waiting for you. Standing in front of the shadow man you put the cloak on over the backpack and pulling the hood over your head the power of the shadows envelops you.

“Well, are you ready?” You asked the shadow, smiling as he gave you a thumbs up.

“Alright then show me what to do”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen icons #max verstappen fic #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #f1 au #f1 x pjo

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aphroditeinthesea · 3 months

Note

can you do a solangelo fic please? where maybe will comforts nico after a nightmare?? (just a prompt if you wanna do anything else that’s great too I just want solangelo) thank you!

“ hold on to this lullaby ”

nico di angelo x will solace 💀☀️

will finds comfort after a nightmare

i haven’t read trials of apollo or the sun and the star so i hope this makes sense??? also i added a little twist to the original prompt

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Last thing Will knew was that he had said goodnight to Nico and made his way into cabin 7. So he couldn't figure out why he was now in an overly crowded infirmary. Every bed was filled with a dying patient and whenever he healed one, another appeared in the same bed. It was just endless work and nothing and no one was improving.

He went into a full panic when he saw an all too familiar face in the bed. Lying there half dead was Nico Di Angelo. He was freaking trying to cut bandages but found that he just couldnt get his hands to even move. In fact, his entire body wasn't moving, he had to stya completely still and watch his boyfriend slowly die in front of him.

“No, no, no!” he exclaimed as he saw one last breath come out of the boy. His felt his voision get hazy until he was lying on the floor, completely shell shocked.

But now, he was sitting in his bed in his cabin. He looked around at the darkness surrounding him in the night. He let out a deep sigh, knowing that everything had just been a dream. But he still couldn't shake the fear he felt as he remembered the last part of the dream. Nico. How was he meant to get back to sleep after what he had witnessed? Witnessed being used lightly. After all, he had to remind himself that it was just a dream. But what if it meant something?

It wasn’t often that Will found himself so uneasy about something like this, even when he did have nightmares, it wasn't too hard for him to fall back to sleep. He didnt know why now was different. He could only decide on one reason.

He soon found himself sneaking out of his cabin. He quietly closed to door behind him and walked on the dewey grass to cabin 13. He couldn't tell what time it was as the sky was still dark and stars were up. He assumed it must have been at least three in the morning. -

He finally reached the cabin, stepping inside softly, trying not to wake up Nico.

“Will?” He heard whispered.

He froze and shut the door, “hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he spoke. He began moving to now be sitting at the end of the bed, “just had a nightmare.”

Nico made room next to him for Will to lie down. He laid his head on Nico’s chest, feeling the comfort of the sound of his heartbeat. It was the same routine they always went through. Although, normally the roles were reversed. Everyone knew how often the son of Hades had nightmares. No one batted an eye when Will would be missing from cabin 7, or even at times when Nico would wake up in Will’s bed.

He wrapped his arms around the blond, “do you wanna talk about it?”

He hesitated, “yeah, I, uhm, I was in the infirmary,” he breathed. He explained the rest of the dream. The neverending patients, the way his hands froze, and the death.

“Oh,” Nico sighed. He combed his fingers through Will’s hair, not knowing what else to say.

Will understood, letting himself close his eyes. His mind and anxieties had finally cleared. His breathing steadied and he spoke again, “it was the last part that got to me the most.”

“Really?”

He breathed out a laugh, “yeah, Neeks,” he paused, “there was nothing I could do, and I just had to…” he couldn't finish as the images flashed through his mind.

“I get it,” Nico whispered. He pulled Will closer to him, “love you, tesoro.”

The son of Apollo felt himself begin to drift off, “love you, too.”

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #nico di angelo x will solace #solangelo fanfiction #fanfic #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #son of apollo #cabin 7 #son of hades #cabin 13

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stuffforme2 · 2 months

Text

Okay listen I lvoe the pjo books and series with all ym heart but.. everyone talks about them like they're perfect WHICH THEYRE NOT any problems are kinda brushed under the rug and I find thst kinda werid? Like you'll see other books and TV shows get dragged and canceled for the stuff in Riordan books and yet pjo doesn't?? So.. uhhHHHH yeah that's jsut something I noticed.

The weird relationshipd ynamics. Rick is like allergic to someone bring okay with being single or jsut aromantic like you can say Reyna but her having a crush kn Jason?? Yes she rejected Apollo but her relationship with Jason deterioted brcuz she had a 'crush' on the guy and that doesn't really amke sense to me (I can go into so much detail kn this)

AND LEO AND CALYPSO OMFG that is a toxic relationship. The age gap. The way calypso treats Leo. The fact Leo SHOULD NOT be with someone like this man hasn't dealt with his attachment and Abandonment issues like st all?!

The literal only black character in the pjo books being beckendorf.. then he dies. Then the Korean/Asian (I'm not sure sorry) character dies, Ethan. And like I understand Percy is hinted st being Hispanic (have seen many ppl talk about this dont mnow if it's common knowldhe) but it's never confirmed or added??? I know Rick fixes it later but it's still weird to me lmaoo

Rick unable to keep consistent personality. Woobigying Nico OH MY GOD NICO HE BECOMES GAY AND THSTS WHDT EVERYONE FUCKING FOCUSES ON AND HE SHOULD'VE NEVER GOTTEN WITH WILL ATLWAST NOT THAT QUICK it's not healthy. Their relationship was rushed and didn't make sense I felt like people only like ot becuz it's a gay relationship??

And oh mygods— Samirah. I am not Muslim and I am not an expert on the Nuslim religion but there is so much shitbthatbeas wrong in thst book that I even knew was incorrect and jsut weird to happen?! The AMOUNT OF TIMES HER HIJAB CAME OFF and I'm also like "yaayyyy representation" but it could've been as easy as one Google search. one.

Jason. Jason as a whole. He had the most potential out of ANYONE and personally I think he had more potential then Percy like his story is so INTERESTING and then.. Rick knocked him iut with a brick multiple times, didn't work kn his sotry or trauma at all, then KILLED HIM. Same with Ethan. I am so Vitter about these two.. HELL EVEN LEO AND FRANK.

Also the way he made Annabeth first quest (first quest SHE IS LEADING AND IS HER PROHECY) all about Percy. I was reading it and I was like "bitxh— this is Annabeth Quest?!" LIKE he it pissed me off that Annabeth was swept to rhe side as Percy's lvoe interest giving her knly enough personality and stary to make her jnteredting enough to eb loved but never delving jntk it into Mark kf Athena and even at Mark of Athena it all rounded back tk her and Percy's relationship LIKE JESUS CHRIST DO THESE MFERS PASS THE BELLDAN TEST?!

The low key incest at the beginning ricj writing that all the demigods had the same impish features at rhe start and then.. jsut.. CHSNGING IT?!

Not letting a virgin goddess who has no history of having children have.. children.. NOW you may be wondering 'but then how would we get Annabeth?'— JUST GiVE ATHENA HER FAVOURITE CHOSEN PPL LIKE SHE DID WITH ODYSSEUS let her stay childless. Jsut let her choose some children she'd like as hers wonce they're Bron and she then blesses them as her heroes, that's how she treats them any way and it also gets rid of the incest?!

Also the fact it's implied that Annabeth is only smart becuz she's a child of Athena.. Rick made a virgin goddess technically have children so he can have a smart women character and that's just.. EuGGHHhHHh JUST LET HER BE SMART IT NOT THAT HARD "Oh, no, I'm not smart because Athena chose me.. Athena chose me because I was already smart" Smacks you with common fucking sense.

Also Annabeth ALWAYS needing to eb saves and its always done by a man. OMFG AND GROVES GF DHE HAS NO PERSONALITY OUTSIDE OF BEING SOEM GUSY GF EVEN THOUGH HES GONE FOR MKNTHS AND BAREKY CONTAXTS HER?!

The whole apheodite cabin. The whole aphrodite cabin. The whole aphrodite cabin.

The fact it's clear Rick doesn't think girly girls cant be strong or into fighting or able to wield a fuckign weapon. The way he makes nearly every girly girl into a total mean bitch or ruins their characters.

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too-antigonish · 2 months

Text

More Top Shaun Evans Acting Moments in Endeavour

When I posted Top 10 Shaun Evans Acting Moments in Endeavour a few weeks ago, I asked folks to let me know what I had missed.

This is a compilation of all of the replies I received...plus 3 more I couldn't resist adding myself.

The rooftop scene in S1E2: Fugue (~1h26m10s)

"Go home, put your best record on, loud as it'll play, and with every note, you remember... that's something that the darkness couldn't take from you." --suggested by @librawritesstuff

2. At the pub with Ms. Frazil in S2E2: Nocturne (21m08s)

"So subtle and impeccable timing of his simple but oh so potent lines."--suggested by @peeps-posts

3. When Morse and Bixby have a drink after the party in S3E1: Ride (~44m01s)

"...the actors had such great chemistry!!" --suggested by @notholaenas

4. "A date Ms. Frazil?" "I like to keep my hand in." from S3E2: Arcadia (~28m40s)

"The big moments are glorious I agree but it’s the little touches in small scenes that I love." and "Love the interactions between those two!" --suggested by @peeps-posts

5. Morse talks about his mother in S3E2: Arcadia (~1h01m50s)

"There's something about that scene... I don't even know how to explain it." --suggested by @thewatcher98

"The gentle memory and the sadness overwhelms me every time I watch it." --suggested by @oxfordlovesblog

6. "When if jumps, you run," and an honorable mention for the panic vomit from S3E3: Prey (~1h22m29s)

--suggested by @librawritesstuff and @alias71

7. Thursday thanks Morse for drawing fire away from Joan in S3E4: Coda (~1h22m10s)

"...and then they just look into each other's eyes and don't say a word. It's just... Chills up and down my spine honestly." --suggested by @thewatcher98

8. The scene where Morse is drugged in S4E2: Canticle (1h17m50s)

--suggested by @librawritesstuff, @sircolinmorgan, and @lanternheart

9. Morse talks to Caroline Bryce-Morgan in S4E3: Lazaretto (~1h13m20s)

--my addition

10. Scenes with Eve Thorne in S5E1: Muse (~1h15m38s)

--my addition

11. Claudine and Morse after sex in S5E4: Colours (~55m19s)

"How it changed from playful to serious to playful again..." --suggested by @oxfordlovesblog

12. Scene in S6E1: Pylon where Box tells Morse he’s messing up the crime scene (~16m40s)

"You can see Morse wants so badly to tell him to fuck off then he looks at Thursday and sees that Thursday is not going to defend him so he turns and walks away." --suggested by @wndr-wmn

13. Morse listening to the moon landing from his car in S6E2: Apollo (~1h27m16s)

--suggested by @librawritesstuff

14. The scene in S7E2: Raga where Violetta asks Morse if he believes in forgiveness (~56m38s)

--my addition

15. Morse has a breakdown at his desk after finding out who Joan is marrying in S9E1: Prelude (~1h14m03s)

--suggested by @morsesnotes

#itv endeavour #endeavour morse #shaun evans #this man can act #so can everyone else on this show

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make-me-imagine · 2 years

Text

The Future Awaits

Plot: You and Iceman meet at a bar and hit it off. Once you suddenly leave, Iceman is afraid he will never see you again, but, you know something he doesn't.

Requested Prompts: "Why are you staring at me?"< (changed to fit the dialogue better) "Because I think you're beautiful." + "You owe me a kiss." and "I think I'm falling in love with you." "I think I'm okay with that." Requested By: Anonymous

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x GN!Reader (leans a bit towards a feminine character; but no pronouns are used) *Readers call sign is Apollo

Warnings: A part of this takes place in a bar, and 'drinks' are mentioned, but its not specifically alcohol, so you can picture it as you want.

Words: 3.6k

"I really don't think this is what I want to be doing before my first day." You said with a sigh as you looked at the loud and clearly crowded bar in front of you.

Your friend shook you lightly by the shoulder "It's exactly what you should be doing. Half of the pilots you'll be flying with will be here."

Letting out another soft groan as they began dragged you inside, you said forceully "But we leave by eight, no later!"

"Yeah yeah I know."

You almost flinched at the mixed smell of alcohol, smoke and sweat that hit you as you entered the bar. You grimaced a bit as you saw the large bustling crowd. A mix of military personnel and locals, some mixed together, some grouped up.

You wondered if you were the only pilot not wearing their uniform. You felt a bit out of place as you slid through the crowd and sat at the bar beside your friend.

Looking around, your eyes stopped momentarily on a taller man with blonde hair. A pilot, big smile, attractive. You wondered if he was one of the pilots you'd be working with.

Looking back at the bartender as they came over, you missed the man you had just been admiring look over at you.

Iceman's eyes seemed to double take as he looked over a the bar. As he scanned you up and down, interest took hold. He had never seen you before, or the friend you were with. You smiled at the bartender and he felt an odd flutter in his chest.

Feeling a smack on his shoulder, he looked over to see Slider staring at him amused "What's got you so distracted all of a sudden?"

Iceman smirked a little as he gestured towards you "Talking to the bartender."

Slider whistled lowly "Cute. And just you're type. You gonna go talk to 'em?"

Ice shrugged his head a bit "I'm thinking about it."

That was a lie, there was no thinking about it, and no way he would let you leave this bar without at least learning your name.

--- ---

"Oh, there's Jeremy! I'm gonna go say hi, don't go anywhere!"

As your friend bounded off without waiting for a reply, you just let out a soft laugh. You knew it wouldn't take long before you were left on your own.

Seeing a figure slide into the seat your friend had just been in, you could feel the strangers eyes boring into you. You internally cursed, hoping it wasn't some drunk local hoping to get lucky.

When they didn't look away, you finally glanced over. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as your eyes locked with a pair of icy blue ones. The man you had seen earlier was now right beside you, looking down at you with a charming smile.

"Hi." He said casually.

"Hello." You smiled as you sipped at the straw in your drink.

He continued to smile as he stared at you. You almost laughed "Is there a reason you're staring at me?"

His smile widened "Yeah, because I think you're beautiful."

You felt your chest clench as you tried to repress a grin. You nodded your head, amused and surprised.

"Your friend coming back, or can I sit down?" He added on, sparing you of a response to his blunt compliment.

So he was waiting for your friend to leave? How long had he been watching you? The thought made your skin burn hot.

"I doubt I'll see them again for a while." You said with a soft laugh before you motioned your head, welcoming him to sit.

You might as well get to know at least one pilot before tomorrow.

He smiled brightly as he sat down, obviously not bothered by his proximity to you as he stayed facing you, his knee brushing your thigh.

"I'm Tom, but my call sign is Iceman." Before you could respond he added on "Uh, a call sign is basically a nickname we have as pilots."

You smiled at him as you bit down on your straw, noting the way his eyes lingered on your lips as you did this.

So he assumed you were a local. You had heard of Iceman, he was a hot shot, number one at Top Gun in the class a couple years before you. And apparently he was cocky, and a tad bit full of himself, maybe this could be fun.

"Why do they call you that?" You asked softly.

He shrugged his head a bit as he leaned on the bar, "Because I'm cool in stressful situations. Ice cold. I make no mistakes."

You hummed a bit with a small smile, watching as his eyes scanned your face again.

"What's your name?" He asked softly.

"Y/n."

Reaching out his hand he grinned "Nice to meet you Y/n."

Taking it, you shook his hand, not unaware of the fluttering in your stomach, or the heat at the tips of your ears. He was certainly charming.

You looked around a bit, feigning ignorance "So the air base must be close to here huh? A lot of pilots in here."

He nodded as he casually looked around "Yeah, this is the main bar we come to for a night out. So I'm assuming you're not from here then?" You shook your head "Well that explains why I haven't seen you before."

"Just got into town today." You added casually before you turned your head towards him a bit more "So, Iceman" you began, noting the way his lip quirked as you used his call sign "What's it like being a pilot?"

You listened to him talk for a few minutes, deciding that though he was definitley a bit full of himself, he was also charismatic, loved his job, and loved flying.

"You get along with the other pilots, or are there rivalries?" You might as well get some info before you walk into your new station blindly.

He let out a short laugh "No, we all get along. Occasionally a newbie gets transferred in, thinks they're the shit, but we humble them quickly."

You smirked at this "Got any newbies recently?"

"No, but we got a new pilot transferring in tomorrow."

"Oh? What's their call sign?" You held your breath, waiting for it.

"Apollo."

You rose your brow "Well that's an interesting name."

"Yeah, I guess Apollo is the god of prophecy or something." He said with an almost disinterested tone.

"So they can see the future?" You joked.

He let out a chuckle "That would be something. No, apparently they got a reputation for being able to see things coming before they happen. Meaning great instincts, but we'll see."

You wanted to laugh, but you held it in. "You don't believe it?"

He shrugged his head "I hear a lot of reputations about pilots, half of them are exaggerated."

You turned fully towards him now, your leg pushing his aside but still resting against each other. This clearly caught him off guard as he straightened up a bit.

You set your elbow on the bar and put your head in your hand "And what's your reputation?"

He licked his lips as he smiled "I've got a few."

Before your conversation could move forward, you saw a large man suddenly appear at Iceman's side as he slung his arm around his shoulder. Iceman was clearly annoyed at this sudden intrusion, but you looked patiently at the new man.

"Iceman, ask your new friend here if they play darts, we need two more players."

Ice looked like he was about to shoo him off, but you spoke first.

"I do."

Iceman looked over at you a bit shocked, as Slider grinned "Great."

"You play darts?" Iceman asked amused

You shrugged "I'm decent."

You watched his mind working as a small smirk played at his lips. "You down a player each team?" Iceman asked Slider.

"Yes'sir."

"Alright, how about a deal then." He said to you now.

"What kind of deal?"

"You win, I pay your tab. I win, I get a kiss."

You saw his friend repress a smile, and you smirked. "Alright, deal."

Iceman's grin grew wider as you agreed. Standing, he reached out his hand for you to shake. Taking it, you were a bit surprised as he continued to hold your hand as he led you to the dart board, where you were greeted by the other pilots with a chorus of cheers.

--- --- ---

You let out a long breath as you aimed your dart at the board. You needed three points, no more or you'd bust, giving Iceman the chance to win. As you threw your dart, you let out a disappointed groan as you barely missed your mark.

You saw Iceman smile widely as he stepped up to the board. After a moment, he threw his dart, hitting the double four, earning the perfect score he needed.

You and your teammates groaned as his team cheered. You watched as Iceman turned towards you and took a step closer, clearly proud of himself. "Looks like you owe me a kiss."

You heard snickers and teasing 'oohs' coming from the other pilots, but you ignored them. Taking a step closer you stared up at Iceman, watching as he held his breath, his eyes darting between yours and yours lips. Leaning up slowly, you smiling softly before quickly kissing his cheek.

The others around you let out laughs and groans, some clutching their chest, mocking the obvious disappointment on Iceman's face.

You grinned at him and shrugged "You never said what kind of kiss."

The man you learned was Slider came up and gripped Iceman's shoulders "Ouch. But you should have expected that."

A smile spread across Iceman's face as he looked down at you "Cute."

You smiled sweetly at him, feigning innocence, as his grin widened. Suddenly you felt an arm slip around your waist. Looking over, you saw your friend looking at you with a smile. "Sorry to interrupt, but -" they leaned in and whispered in your ear.

Your eyes found the nearest clock you saw it was nearly nine. You looked at your friend and they shrugged, their version of an apology for not getting you sooner "I didn't want to interrupt your game."

You looked at Iceman, who stared at the two of you in confusion. Part of you wanted to stay, but you knew you needed a good nights sleep. And, you wanted the finish what you started with Iceman before he learned the punchline too soon.

You reached out, straightening one of his uniform patches "Sorry Tom, looks like I gotta go, busy day tomorrow."

"Already?" He laughed, but you could see the disappointment in his face. Maybe he did really like you. You shrugged apologetically and he straightened up a bit "Will I see you again?"

You smiled "I can't see the future, but I have a feeling you will."

He frowned slightly, obviously missing your hint of who you were.

Stepping back you smiled, "See ya Tom."

You could feel his eyes on you as you and your friend left the bar. You thought for a moment as you glanced back and saw him watching you, that he would follow you. But as Slider grabbed his arm, you knew he wouldn't.

He wanted to follow you, get your number, your address, anything, but as Slider grabbed him, he looked away for a moment, only to look back and see you were gone.

"Dammit" He muttered as he quickly went after you, sliding between the groups of people that filled the bar. As he stepped outside, he saw your car driving away and cursed under his breath.

You'd come back to find him right? There was no way it was just him feeling what was between you. That electricity that sent chills up his spine. Something he had never felt before. He had to see you again.

"So, who was that? He was cute." Your friend asked as you drove off.

"Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky, a pilot at the base."

They frowned a bit "Did you not tell him who you were? He seemed like he was expecting to never see you again."

You smiled "I may have kept it a secret."

They let out a laugh "Oh, that's good. Cruel, but good."

You smiled to yourself throughout the night as you tried to imagine how he would respond when he learned who you really were. Would he find it as funny as you did? Or would he be annoyed?

You were also a bit afraid. You grew to like him throughout the night, and he seemed to like you too. But when you started to work together, would he pull away?

--- --- --- ---

Throughout the rest of the night, and next morning, you would not leave Tom's mind. He couldn't believe he didn't get your number, or even just your last name. He already planned to go back to the bar tonight, to see if you'd come back. He felt a tightness in his chest that he knew wouldn't go away until he saw you again.

As Slider nudged his arm, he looked up as the General entered, ready to debrief the group on an upcoming mission.

"Before we start, I'd like to introduce the newest member of the team, you probably know them as their call sign Apollo. Graduated top of their class in the Top Gun program, I expect you all to welcome them and make them feel at home."

Tom stared down at the pen he was twirling in his fingers, as the general spoke, not particularly interested in the newest addition to the team. But when there seemed to be a wave of motion through the pilots, and a chorus of whispering, followed by Slider hitting him in the arm, he looked up in confusion.

Following Sliders line of sight, he saw the newest pilot coming in. He felt his heart skip a beat as his breath got caught in his throat.

"Lieutenant Y/n L/n, Apollo, welcome."

You nodded at the General as you turned and looked at the group of pilots. You recognized most of them from the bar, and from their shocked faces, they recognized you. As your eyes ran through the crowd, they paused on a familiar face.

Tom stared up at you with a clear look of shock and confusion.

It felt like time stopped as he met yours eyes. And as a small smirk played at your lips he felt his heart palpitate. Sitting down in the front row, his eyes bored into the back of your head throughout the rest of the debriefing. He couldn't focus on anything else.

As he sat there, your conversations ran through his head again. The whole time, you knew what you were doing. When you met, he immediately assumed you weren't a pilot and you played along. When he remembered talking about Apollo he felt himself cringe.

Then he remembered what you said when he asked if he'd see you again "I can't see the future, but I have a feeling you will." You played him.

But he wasn't mad, he even felt a smile appear on his face as he stared at the back of your head. You did exactly what he would have done. He almost laughed, God, you were perfect.

When the debrief ended, you weren't surprised to turn around to see Tom walking straight up to you. He had small smile playing on his lips and you felt a wave of relief to see he wasn't angry.

He stopped right in front of you as his face went blank. "Y/n. Or, should I call you Apollo?"

You smiled "Either works."

Slowly, a smile spread across his face as he shook his head "You played me."

"I didn't play you, I just let you assume I was what you thought I was."

"Which was?"

"Well not a pilot obviously."

He let out a short laugh "Yeah, fair enough " He stared at you for a moment, his eyes darting around your face, and you felt those now familiar butterflies.

"So, Apollo. We gonna have a rivalry, or are we gonna be friends?" His voice slowed as he said 'friends' making you assume he was insinuating more.

You smiled slowly "I don't know Tom. You tell me."

--- --- --- ---

As you set down your now empty glass, you stood up, slapping Slider on the shoulder "I'm out." You said casually.

There was a chorus of 'boos' and complaints from your friends as you began to leave, but you just raised your hand in farewell. You had a long day, and sitting in the noisy, crowded bar was not how you wanted to spend the rest of it.

You had been at the base for over a month now, and it even started to feel like home. You got along with everyone, especially Tom. Nothing had formed between you since that first night you met, but you knew those feelings were lingering just under the surface.

Neither of you shied away from flirty comments, innuendos, or even physical touch. You were used to him slinging his arm around your shoulder, or even resting your head against him. You were friends, but something more was there, and it was obvious to both of you, and probably everyone else, but neither of you had truly acted on it.

Your eyes looked around, and landed on Tom. You thought of calling out to him, but you saw his intense gaze as he lined up a shot and decided no to bother. You would see him tomorrow, and just like every other day, you'd hope something would change.

Iceman grinned as he took his final winning shot in his game of pool. Looking over to where you had been, he felt a small tug at his heart when he saw you were gone. Looking around, he found you just in time to see you heading towards the doors. He felt a tight clench in his chest as he felt an urge to follow you.

He had been debating telling you how he felt ever since he met you, but since you started to work together, he knew it could be risky. But every day it felt worse holding it in. Every day he saw your smile, heard your laugh, he fell harder and harder. And every day he missed the chance to hold your hand, to kiss you, to hold you against him was a day of torture.

As the thought of you walking out of the bar the first night you met entered his mind, he remembered that regret he felt for having not chased after you faster. Before this thought was over, he was handing his pool cue to his friend and following after you.

Stepping out into the cool darkness, he saw you heading out of the parking lot. "Y/n!" He yelled, causing you to halt and turn around.

You watched as Tom came jogging up to you, and you felt your stomach knot.

As he stopped in front of you he smiled down at you "Let me walk you back, I hate the idea of you going alone."

You smiled, feeling warmth in your chest "I wont stop you."

Turning, you both began walking. As he walked in stride beside you, his arm brushed against yours, hands briefly touching. There was a minute of silence as you began walking down the road as both of you felt the rising tension.

Tom took a breath as he stopped walking, at the same time, he gently grabbed your arm. You stopped and turned back, seeing the intense look on his face.

"What is it?" You asked, voice almost wavering.

"I-I have something I need to tell you. Something that has been eating me up."

Frowning, you turned fully towards him, "What is it Tom?"

You shivered as he gently ran his fingers down your arm, until he hooked his hand around your own. He stared down at your hand, gently stroking it with his thumb.

Swallowing, he looked back up, meeting your eyes. He could see the concern in your gaze, and all he wanted to do was take your face in his hands and kiss you.

"I don't think it's a secret to either of us that there is something here. And that there has been since we met. But over the last month, I didn't act on it, when I should have. And every day I haven't has been torture to me. And honestly Y/n-" He let out a shaky breath as he took a small step closer, staring deep into your eyes. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

You felt your heart jump in your chest as your ears and face grew hot. How could someone so perfectly say what you had been wanting to?

A slow smile spread across your face "I think I'm okay with that."

Tom's nervous expression gave away to a bright smile, that was all you needed to say. He knew how you felt, and you knew how he felt. There was no secret about it, just one of you needed to break that silence.

Lifting his hands, he gently held your face as you stepped closer, your bodies gently touching.

His eyes darted to your lips before his smile turned into a smirk "Then how about I actually get that kiss you owe me?"

A soft giggle escaped, as you smiled coyly at him before your own eyes traced his lips. Slowly you both leaned in, locking eyes just as your lips touched. Your eyes then fluttered closed as Tom pulled your face closer as he deepened the kiss.

The deep didn't last long but it was electric, sending shivers through your body. Pulling away, you locked eyes and grinned, as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Tell me Apollo, can you really see the future? Did you know I'd fall head over heels for you?"

You grinned happily up at him "I can't see the future, but I had a feeling you would."

xx End xx

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