#Gaea fic

[valentinevibrations]

Can I uhhhhhhh, some female sole and Deacon please. Totally asking for a friend

Deacon and Nora have sex in some fun places 

-Gaea

There were lots of things Nora had never done before she was hurled 210 years into the future. Never ran an army or shot a person. Or feral. Or mutant. The list of things she hadn't shot pre war was a lot longer than it used to be. 

But one thing she definitely hadn't done before the war was- well.

There was a quiet area between Sun's house and the warehouse that was totally dark this time of night. The guards didn't patrol here much, more preoccupied with the marketplace and the Upper Stands. 

She couldn't remember exactly why Deacon had pulled her off the road and into this unlit section of the city, but it hadn’t mattered much once the spy shoved her against a wall and started kissing her throat. Completely concealed, Nora let him pull her suit down to her thighs and push her underwear to one side. Deacon knelt, and leaned in to give her a long, slow lick from base to nub. She found herself shoving her hips into his mouth, muffling herself with her own hand. 

She had to thank Atom for the change in weather as the air of the unseasonably warm spring evening brushed against her skin and made standing out here like this bearable. Not that she would've been cold for long, not with the heat that rocketed through her when Deacon sucked at her clit. She almost lost her breath as she tried to keep from crying out loud. They might've been concealed from sight, but Nora didn't fancy finding out what the fine was for public indecency in Diamond City.

Deacon made trying to keep quiet unbelievably difficult, though. He pulled her suit a little further down, parting her thighs wider. His tongue ground against her clit, fingers slipping into her. She knew he used his mouth to talk a lot of shit, but as she tried to keep the squeaks and whimpers from escaping, she hadn't realised just how good he was with it. And those fingers. She grabbed the back of his head, pulling him in closer. Deacon laughed softly against her, his hand pushing up beneath her bra to tease her nipple. 

“Don't wanna let the guards know we're here,” he murmured. His lips closed around her clit and sucked until Nora was trembling, pressing herself firmly against the wall at her back. 

“Asshole,” she groaned. 

He was good. Nora had a horrible feeling that her knees were going to give out if she didn't concentrate on keeping upright. And again, Deacon wasn't making that a particularly easy thing to do. 

“We can do that,” he said with a muffled chuckle. 

Stubble grazed her inner thighs, and his lips found her clit again, sucking until tremors rocked her. Nora’s head fell back against the wall behind her, nails digging into Deacon’s scalp. The rapid thrust of his fingers couldn’t be disguised, and all it did was make her feel hotter. 

Closer to orgasm. 

“Don’t get caught,” he breathed, “don’t get caught coming, Charmer, that’s real bad for the Railroad. We’re supposed to be representatives of Des, y’know?”

“Shut up,” she whispered.

Deacon’s mouth found her clit again, sucked hard until her toes curled and her body shuddered in wave after wave of blissful orgasm. Nora’s back arched off the wall, and she almost drowned in her own pleasure as she suffocated herself to keep the cries of pleasure from escaping her lips. Both her hands went to her mouth as her eyes rolled up, forcing herself to stay quiet. 

The pleasure finally tapered off, and Deacon withdrew, shooting her a wink. 

“You feeling all nice and charmed, Charmer?” he drawled. 

“Fuck off,” Nora grunted as the spy got to his feet. 

He was grinning as he tugged his pants open, cock springing free. Nora turned around on wobbly legs to brace herself against the wall in front of her, and Deacon settled up behind her, one thumb spreading her folds as his other hand wrapped around his cock. He was inside her in three quick thrusts, filling her up, caging her in with his arms.

“Man,” Deacon’s voice was raspy, “wonder what the fine is for this!”

“Shut up,” Nora whispered, wriggling her ass into his crotch. “You’re trying to get us caught.”

“Who, me?” Deacon’s thrusts were rapid, his voice choked as he quickly chased his pleasure. “Nah!”

“Shh!”

One of his hands splayed out beside hers, the other running down to her clit. Nora bit her lip as rapid circles began to wind around the nub, and Deacon’s panting breaths fanned against her neck. 

“I’m nice and quiet,” Deacon moaned into her ear. “Silent as a- as a radrat!”

“Bullshit,” Nora breathed, rocking back against him. “D-Deacon, your mouth runs like a- a faucet!” 

“Shh, now, Charmer,” he panted. “You said you didn’t- mmmm- wanna g-get us caught, right?”

Footsteps crossed the boardwalk nearby, and both spies froze where they were. 

Nora glanced up at the man who came into view, and like magnets their eyes met. His widened as she looked away. 

“Oh my god!”

Turning on his heel, the guard rushed off, and the two of them moved as a pair, tugging on their clothes and grabbing their things. Nora led Deacon the back way to her house, slamming the door shut behind them. They could hear voices, jeers and laughter on the other side, and a protesting voice. 

“I mean it! I saw the General of the Minutemen!” the guard was insisting. “Suit off! Pretty fuckin’ naked!”

“Man, you been hittin’ the chems too hard,” his coworker snorted. “I get it, she’s hot, but nobody believes you.”

“I’ll show you!” the guard insisted. 

“Ohhhh, no, I’m not gonna fall for this,” another voice shot back. “This is your payback prank for us tellin’ you the McDonough was trapped in the bathroom stall and needed your help.”

“Well… I mean, yeah, I’d come up with somethin’ like that! But this time it’s true!” 

“Ok, man. Whatever you say. You keep your fantasies to yourself next time, though. Don’t wanna hear what you daydream about,” someone else muttered.

“You guys! I’m tellin’ the truth!”

Another round of disbelieving protests were thrown his way. Eventually the crowd dispersed, and Nora sagged against her door with a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah, you said it,” Deacon chirped in agreement. “Man. We almost got caught with our pants down. Good thing I was quiet.”

“Oh shut up,” she scoffed, despite her smile. “Your knees were squeaking and rattling, old man. That’s what got them your way.”

“Coming from the 239 year old woman!” Deacon retorted. “I’m sorry, grandma, was your hip replacement making too many sounds?”

Nora slapped him on the arm with a snort. “Your glasses were rattling.”

“No, your shoes were creaking,” he insisted. “Anyway, you owe me dinner.”

Nora gaped. “You figure?”

“I was seduced by you,” Deacon sighed. “I’m owed a burger, Charmer.”

“You can eat my ass,” she muttered.

Deacon laughed. “Sure.”

[kyuremking]

I like to make memes. So here are ideas for my Break the thread that maybe I'll write someday

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[witchofthesouls]

Since earth is Unicron imagine if moon. Is Unicron's some sort of minicon or something

Like Unicron went out cold for so long and it juet kind of stayed by just chilling and then Earth fully formed and gained form of communication with Moon etcetera

Moon when Cron wakes up: Finally you're awake. Take care of your kid now

Unicron: what

Earth: :D

I honestly love the concept of sentient cities and planets. Like they interact with each other in their own ways that humans don't really comprehend or understand. Beasts on their own scale.

(Blame blood and bone by DragonflyxParodies, The Desert Storm series by BlueSunshine, and silverpard's London Incarnate series and a mirror, darkly. All of them on Ao3.)

Especially with a possible theory that the moon came from a very young/proto-Earth after a massive collision with an object, so-

Unicron made 1.5 kids or a child/sister with her weirder cat that likes a particular schedule with seasons, tides, and light.

[pain-is-too-tired]

One thing I don't think is talked enough about when it comes to a lot of the antagonist in the series, it's how a lot of them tend to dehumanize/see the demigods as much lesser than.

Not to say the gods don't, but not in the same way the antagonist do I feel like.

Khione(and her brothers) I think is one the most obvious examples to this, freezing and keeping the demigods as living statues is literally discussed hdgdg

Even with Midas, he literally keeps living golden statutes including his own daughter.

At least one of the Giants brings up keeping one of the demigods after they win iirc.

Being seen more like a possession or piece on a board is very common throughout the series. It's definitely obvious with Jason, who's seen as Juno's and Rome's. In a way both Jason and Leo are treated like attack dogs to both Hera and Gaea, it's just Jason's the one Hera could get to heel.

Yet Hera still let's them make connections and walk freely. And she cares enough to grieve when Jason dies. I mean the bar is in Tarturus at this point but hsgdg

Idk. Something is just a lot more unsettling with how the antagonist(like the giants and Khione) talk about the demigods. I think it because they pretty much are claiming demigods like war prises. Which goes back around to something I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before, but the comparison between old versus new. Because, yeah, the gods still stuck in many places, but there's certain aspects most of them had changed in.

For all the demigods that exist, most of them came from genuine connection between the god and mortal parent. There's multiple examples of gods even returning to have another kid with said mortal parent. Many gods seem to think fondly of the mortals they've been with(Aphrodite is outright concerned for Piper's father mental health if he found out about her. )

Not to say that didn't happen in the classics, but there seems to be more of that. Though could be because Rick didn't want to have anything too close to the other subjects in the books. But then he also has antagonist talk about keeping demigods in collections and literally human trafficking so gdgdg

But yeah, there seems to be less kids sired from less then healthy situations. And that also could be because Rick just didn't want to make modern versions of stuff like Achilles' orgins where Zeus had a guy wrestle Thetis down and marry her so her son wouldn't be too powerful. Or any of Zeus' children's origins really.

But the gods tend to have closer connections to mortals and demigods, both hades and Poseidon offer solace in their home to mortal lovers, and don't force it when they decline. Their interactions with mortals/ demigods are down to earth, they only appear to them in full form on Olympus with the other gods or in their realms.

The exception is probably Zeus, who hardly ever comes down from Olympus to talk to anyone.

But he's Zeus, so.

The antagonist however very much address the demigods in a way less down to earth. Making it much more known how powerful they are. Anytime they meet Khione outside her father's place? She's showing off her powers.

The Titans are always large, towering over the demigods. Kronos cares so little about demigods he doesn't even bat an eye when he knocks over his own off the bridge in tlo.

And as I mentioned, many times is idea of keeping demigods as war prises brought up. And that's not new in relation to Greek classics.

The Trojan War was a whole mess of taking women as war prises. Not just Helen being kidnapped but Chryseis,Briseis,Andromache-(honestly, any woman Agamemnon interacted with oh my gods-)

Even men were taken as slaves. It was a normality in war(at least Trojan War wise). If you weren't killed you were taken. Change is important point in each book, how much modern times views being a hero and finding yourself differ from before. How they can mend broken ties and be better then those before them. How they fight for others rather then themselves and pride.

Why the worst antagonist often fight for power, they manipulate and take. They want to be at the top of the world, to be noticed/worshipped. And they do anything to get there.

They see the war as gloryful and a way to reach the top. The demigods see it as trying to live another day. To protect those around them, even desperately trying to save others on the other side.

Idk why, just the whole thing interest me. I think it's also fun idea to explore in a sense.i mean I'm sure there's plenty of Kronos/Giants wins aus, but something about delving into the way that'll effect the survivors intriguing to me.

I think it kinda can be used as a metaphor? At least being looked down on. Feeling like you're being told to dance and entertain sometimes comes with being Neurodivergent. I mean heck, Jason is a walking example of learning to mask so hard you forget who you were underneath. Being dehumanized by those around you.

So something about the heroes fighting help others belong why the villains fight to possess and control everything to their liking feels about right for a series focused on those with disabilities

[anotheroceanid]

Percy: this is the worst day of my life

Gaea, trying to “comfort her”: the worst day of your life so far :)

Percy:

Percy: thanks

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

NEW FIC FROM ALDER :D

Premise:

Phoebe’s hands circled behind her to protectively grasp Apollo’s arms. He leaned into them with no complaint. “Apollo has earned it by right, then,” his grandmother cooly stated. “Now release the spirit so he can claim its power in full.”

“I think not, my daughter,” Gaea’s peaceful smile was still apparent. Apollo couldn’t stare at it without feeling his nerves shake. “Your grandson has committed a blood crime. It just wouldn’t do for Delphi’s master to have such miasma coiling through his veins.”

-------

Or;

Apollo has committed a crime. One that prevents him from claiming Delphi as his own.

Judgment must be passed for what must be done for him to atone.

[sentient-stove]

“It’s just one life in exchange for all the others- is that not a noble kill to make?”

“One life?!? One life- it’s my life! My life we’re playing with here and newsflash! I don’t want to die again because that didn’t work the first time around! I’ll find a different way- a better way-”

“Through storm or fire- an oath to keep with a final breath-”

“I know what that stupid prophecy says and I’ve elected to ignore it.”

“You broke the rules my little lion,” Hera leaned down and it took everything in him to not pull back, still as scared of the goddess has he had been when he’d been sixteen and full of suicidal glory. “You came downthread, unraveled time to give yourself a second chance. But even you cannot escape the fate promised you.”

[blondejellykitty]

₊ ♡ ˚⊹ I'll be there on their side ₊ ♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ multi demigod x goddess reader ୨୧ the goddess of heroes and the protector of demigods was thought to be a mere myth and that was how she preferred it to be, until the time came when she could no longer stay away. a/n: (1.8k words) my first fic posted !! the title is from 'i bet on losing dogs' by mitski. the ending isn't exactly how i wanted but that's okay :)

Mortal children are told myths just the same as demigods. Usually mortal parents will tell them said stories to help themselves parent them like Jack Frost, to remember to put your jacket on or Santa Claus who won't show unless you behave well.

Parents of demigods however tell them for the child's benefit. Many legends aren't told but are taught at camp, once again to protect the demigods. Very few stories are able to be told without alerting any unwanted attention.

The entirety of the fall of Kronos from Zeus' beginning to his victory and the story of his earliest children. All revolving around Zeus in his prime, probably to keep himself ego inflated and unfaded.

Nevertheless this is another story that circulates the young ears of all demigods. The legend of the protector of demigods. Much is lost to time of the story but not even time himself can rip the hope that the lost goddess can give to the young heroes.

Very few things shocked the Olympians anymore, not in this century anyway. Of course Kronos and Gaea rising was one thing and Percy Jackson himself was another but the whispers from their children that after two titan wars sightings of their lost protector was becoming more frequent seemed to truly shock them.

After a few millennia of no contact from the goddess more than a few gods had assumed she simply faded quietly but now it seemed that wasn't the case at all.

It started as a mistaken identity.

With the son of Poseidon, Percy Jackson had thought she was nothing more than a helpful nymph.

Although the poison from the pit scorpion that Luke Castellan gave him was more than enough of a reason for Percy to not fully take in the figure in front of him.

He could faintly make out the outline of her dress but even that went blurry as quickly as he could blink. After struggling to get to the river in the middle of the deserted forest, he called for help, anyone's help.

So she answered.

In a daze of pain he recalls the feeling of being carried much like his mother used to do when he’d trip and hurt himself. He would have felt embarrassed but with a fading pulse he just mumbled best he could thanks to the tender nymph before his vision was lost to darkness.

After he’d recovered, Chiron told him if he'd been found any later he'd have been dead.

Thirty seconds, he thought.

After he had told everyone, everyone meaning Annabeth about Luke, he went back out to said woods to find the nymph who had helped him.

All he found was a few river spirits nearby who told him that no nymph went that close to the border that day. He’d made the river spirits promise to let him know if the mysterious nymph came back, she never did.

But nonetheless Percy remembered, and held thanks to the helpful nymph.

Mistaken identity shifted to a hallucination.

The son of Hermes, Travis Stoll had sworn himself to secrecy under the impression he'd have imagined the whole encounter.

An embarrassing thought he often let himself drift back to on more than one occasion. It had started when he and Connor had been setting up traps in the woods for the next capture the flag game.

They'd been out there all afternoon, they decided to turn back for curfew, best to not tempt the harpies when he'd tripped on a lodged rock in the ground and managed to roll down and crash into a further down tree.

A thick root from the tree he'd fallen against impaled his side making his shirt and the dirt around him to turn a dark red colour. The sight of the root appearing out his side Connor ran towards camp faster than he'd ever seen him run during their pranks yelling for healers and for Chiron.

When he'd think back on it he wasn't sure if it was the quiet of the forest or the numbness of his body but dark spots began to invade his vision and he couldn't help but embrace them without caution.

Until the most beautiful woman came out from behind a nearby tree, rushing towards him in a fuzzy blur. Her elegant hair falling past her face almost making a blanket of warmth and safety around the two of them.

She was the most stunning thing he'd ever seen. Better than the full moon, the sunrise and sunset. Better than the ocean or a flower. He could hear her softly speaking to him but he couldn't make out the words.

He didn't know how long he'd been staring in awe at the woman. Travis was sure he'd be red with embarrassment if all his 'red' wasn't currently bleeding out of him.

He looked over towards where he heard his brother's frantic voice getting closer to him. The sight of him and a few cabin 7 campers not far behind him did well to ease his own worry. He looked back for the woman but she was gone.

He doubted if he'd seen the woman but shook it off as nothing more than pain induced illusion.

Then from a hallucination to a mortal.

The son of Hades, Nico di Angelo should've known better than to assume that anyone who approached him was 100% mortal.

After spending more time in the demigod world he realized that mortals don't ever come over to talk to demigods, or maybe that was just his problem.

Nevertheless even mortals can see some kind of underworld aura around him even if they don't understand what they're seeing.

Which makes it all the more irritating that his younger self didn't realize the woman who helped him was probably not entirely mortal. He could still remember it so clearly, she was after all one of the few at that time that had been kind to him.

He had spent the night searching for an entrance to the underworld, his father had told him in a dream a few nights prior that it was in the area. He also mentioned that it was supposed to be easier to find for children of his.

Well that turned out to be crap.

Nico had spent all day and now late into the night walking around New york city trying to find a specific street corner. He was tired and hungry but most of all angry.

He called off his search once his eyes started to sting. Finding a bus stop bench to rest at. He pulled his knees to rest his head against. Tears stung his eyes more than his fatigue when a smell of food wafted near him.

Lifting his head he saw a woman, dressed in a cozy cardigan, the beige kind a mother would wear. She was carrying a bag, he could faintly make out the logo of the logo of a restaurant he remembered passing on the contains inside.

She never spoke but her eyes almost made him cry, a look of care and worry. one he'd imagined his own mother having from the stories Bianca would tell him.

She leaned over and rested the beg softly on the bench next to him, he could feel the heat from it warming her leg. He asked her who she was and why she'd given him her food but all she did was smile and ruffle his hair like Bianca used to do.

He could feel his tears roll down his neck as he watched her keep walking down the street until she eventually walked out of vision. He was just glad someone was kind to him.

Even if it was just a friendly mortal.

Then from a mortal to a mother.

The son of Hermes, Chris Rodriguez couldn't believe he could see his mother in the middle of the haunted Labyrinth.

It had been Luke who ordered him to go into the traumatizing maze and he'd done it willingly, so eager to help his older brother for the cause of getting revenge, justice, to be noticed.

But as most things in Chris's life it had gone horribly wrong. He couldn't even remember most of the horror he'd seen in there, the human brain forcing him to forget just so that he can move on from it all.

But one of the few things that stuck with him was the memory of his mother. Now, he knew it was completely impossible his mother, who'd died just helping him to get to camp, was in the labyrinth with him but his vivid recollection of those moments left little doubt.

He remembers leaning against one of the ever shifting walls, ready to give up on getting out for good.

When he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, he recalls not even flinching from it because of the calming ease it put him in, he could feel himself slurring his word and frantically almost magically speaking but it wouldn't reach his ears.

He had a light aura around her, and a gentle smile as she carefully lead the way through the twists and turns of the darken maze.

He relives the memory as best he can, he could still hear the faint whispers from her mouth, promising she wouldn't let him go and that it would be alright soon.

In hindsight that was something his mother would never do, his mother cared for him not was anything but emotional.

Part of him likes to think that Thanatos had lost her soul for a moment and she'd come to help when he most needed her.

He was just glad that someone had helped him because he hated the thought of what had happened to him if they hadn't.

Finally from a mother to a mourner.

The son of Jupiter, Jason Grace was the lost goddess' last straw.

Too many had already lost their lives in wars fought in seemingly vain. No matter how she felt for them nor how she longed to help them, rules were rules as the King of Olympus loved to remind everyone.

But when the fate meddled day approached and her sweet kind hero had perished, some rules were to be broken in order to do some good.

The day Jason Grace died was a day every demigod remembers, they felt the sadness draped over both camps and everyone in them.

Even demigods who had never even met the fallen hero were mourning him with such intensity.

The lost goddess knew it was because of her her grief was spilling into their own lives, her sadness swallowing them up with it.

Part of her wanted to stop, knowing it was affecting the little heroes but another darker part wanted it to spur them into action, she wanted it to make them want change.

But look how that had turned out the first time. As much as she wanted to change she settled for a medium, she’d change and she'd do what she was meant to.

Help the young heroes live and thrive, no matter the cost to any other immortal in her way...

[evilminji]

So, I was reading some Percy Jackson fic stuff today and....I had a Danny Phantom thought.

And thought you might vibe with this at least a little bit.

Anyways, you know how the Phandom frequently has Clockwork be Kronos, or at least a piece of Kronos that regrets his actions towards his children?

Now, Danny being adopted by Clockwork. Who keeps bringing him little pieces of clouds and stars to bake into cookies and turn into marshmallows, and always has a pitcher of fresh rainwater for Danny to drink from if he feels thirsty.

Danny is very much vibing with this. He gets to Eat Space!!! The Sky is a part of him now, and he can FEEL that final frontier so very much at hand. He can close his eyes and See.

Earth below him, kept safe and warm under him, like a mother duck with an egg.

Looking up, Space is right there. It rolls against his back like a friend. The Sun bears down on him, as if bearing witness to him.

And then Danny...Dreams. He dreams of a Time that is not his own, but yet is, all at once.

Time's sickle takes him apart. Methodically, but as painless as he can make it. Kronos his son weeps, even as he and his siblings his babies reach for their Father's pieces and carefully, lovingly, place each and every single one amidst the sky.

"Forgive us" they say.

"We did as we must. We could not let you continue" they weep all over again.

"We will take care of the world you leave behind" They promise.

And so, Ouranos watches. Even with the weight if a Prophecy, and Fate upon them, his children would forever love their parents. He could've been stuck underneath the ground, where that detestable Tartarus was locked away.

But every child of Sky and Earth took the care to place their Father amidst his element. His pieces became the very Sky itself.

And then Danny wakes up.

His hands shake, and his everything aches with fleeting memories. The Infinite Realms are home to dead Gods and Titans. Who's to say, the Father of the Titans could not be spawned with it's embrace?

The next time Clockwork hugs him, Danny knows. His very skin sings with love and joy, that at least one of his children did not forget him.

But no matter how many pieces of the Sky he may eat, no matter how many memories of Old Man Ouranos Danny regains, that has passed.

Time greets the Sky once again, Father and Son reunited, but this go around it falls upon Kronos to be the Father, and Ouranos the Beloved Son.

In the back of his head Danny hears a song. One that Ouranos and Gaea used to sing for their little ones. He knows where the other half of the melody is. Soon, they shall be reunited.

(Hope that's at least halfway coherent? I know some people are gonna be mad that I'm making Danny more than Just Some Guy again, but is that not the spirit of fanfics? To take your specialest blorbo and Put Them in Situations?

Anyways, TL,DR: Danny's Space Obsession is in part his previous life as Ouranos, the Sky, Father of the Titans. Kronos, as Clockwork, is raising his Father's reincarnation and returning his pieces to him, now that pesky Prophecies aren't in the way.

They decide that letting Clocky be the Dad this time around suits them just fine.

Danny hears the song he and his wife, the Earth used to sing, and will answer her call soon, ((who Gaea is is up to interpretation, although I the show itself practically tosses Sam into this role)) once he's NOT a mess from the split memories)

Oh THIS? This is lovely! I DO vibe. Honestly can't think of anything I want to add, but I SURE DO WANNA MAKE SURE EVERYONE SEES IT.

Look at it! o/ *smacks it on your dashboard*

[pumpkinbxtch]

hi! I love your Apollo fics sm can I please request a fic we’re the reader is Percy’s older sister and she finds out there’s like a prophecy of her marrying Apollo and then like they eventually meet and fall and love and then what there marriage is like

𓇼 the sun & the sea 𓇼 〰✷〰

— apollo / lester x daughter of poseidon!reader

— part i | part ii | part iii | part iv |

☆ radiostar is playin': hot rod by dayglow...!

summary: There is a prophecy waiting for you to listen to it and although it may not be something you expect or consider possible. You know what they say about prophecies…they can't fail to come true.

warnings: none BUT long read, literally. got out of hand and i couldn't stop writing. that's bad? oh, fuck me, i'm sorry. a/n: i appreciate your request, thank you (although I think I changed it a little, sorry). HEAR ME OUT I feel like I owe a lot of love to those who love Apollo, so that's why I didn't entertain the idea of ​​making this long. Hope you like I know it's long, but I promise I did my best to make it bearable and fun, I swear. 😭

“The sea and the sun are not far away as they look…”

They told you to stay away from the attic of The Big House, but they never told you why.

“Only he can go up”, they said, and it seemed stupid to you because he was your younger brother; you were supposed to protect him.

“It's very dangerous”, they told you while Annabeth went up, even though you were a couple of years older than her.

“Only if you lead some quest, but…” but no, because as the years went by, they made sure to remind you of your place. They told you that you were powerful, smart, and capable, because, yes, you were Poseidon's firstborn, but not the chosen one. That was Percy, your brother. Did it hurt? Yes, as an older sister, you tend to aspire to greatness and be an example, but you didn't die; you got over it.

“What does it matter? Less work for me” you said as you watched your brother's back on all the missions. Anyway, you ended up stuck in his destiny.

“His destiny. But then, what's mine?” you wondered. Then, when you took a step near Rachel Dare's cave, they stopped you too.

“It's–”

“Dangerous.” You completed the familiar phrase with a look of disgust, avoiding Chiron's eyes. He just looked at you with pity, thinking to himself that if you went in there, you could cause more trouble for your father or Olympus… Or everyone; it would be a war among all the Olympians, something they didn't need with Titan Kronos already on their heels.

Dionysus gave you his typical mocking smile, the same one that made you want to grab the can of Diet Coke and throw it right at his disgusting Christmas-reindeer-red nose.

“It would be so interesting, but we don't need it,” he said as he dragged you away from Rachel with Chiron.

You weren't stupid, you knew there was some good reason. But damn, those fossils were sneaky and never let you get to your redheaded companion, who also avoided you like the plague. Between those two things, you never managed to achieve it. Even less so after you ended up fighting on the Argo II with your new friends, straight from real Greece.

Oh, man, if you had thought Kronos was a damn old grump, Gaea was an old ball-buster. You didn't even have time to think about your future when you didn't know if you had one.

After the second war is when you started to throw in the towel about the future. You realized that the last thing you wanted to know at that moment was whether you would have to fight against twelve more Titans, return to Tartarus, or travel to Alaska again.

New Rome became your new home, and you only waited for Percy to catch up with you along with everyone else. That is, until you returned home to pack new things and didn't find your brother studying just as he should be.

— Mom? — You asked when she came back from shopping.

She gave you that look, and you cursed.

— Relax, he'll be back in a while; he just went to drop off Apollo or well, now he's Lester because apparently he's no longer a god but Zeus…

— Wow. Wait, what?

As a hero of Olympus, touching, seeing, or talking to the gods was never impossible for you; in fact, it was much more usual for your taste, and although you had been through too much already, that was new. So, you found yourself immediately traveling to Long Island Sound on the back of a Pegasus, looking for your brother. You wouldn't let Apollo, Lester, or whatever he called himself now take your brother away to distract him with his godly stuff that surely wouldn't lead to anything good.

— Where's Percy?! — You shouted in the dining hall, making the campers flinch.

Chiron got up from his seat, and from there, he smiled at you, but it only put you in a worse mood.

— Dear, it's been a long journey. Please, sit and eat with us.

You lowered your head without taking your eyes off Chiron and tightened the dagger on your belt. There was no reason for it, you knew, but you couldn't help feeling that fury after knowing everything you had been through. Percy deserved a break.

— Where's my brother? — The pause between words made the campers squirm in their uncomfortable seats. They had heard about you, about everyone. to be exact, in the third lesson of history in their camp classes.

— He left Apollo and Meg in a field not far from here — Chiron decided to sit back down and began to spread the tablecloth nervously. — He probably should have already reached home while you were flying here.

You sighed, and as you relaxed your body, everyone seemed to feel relieved.

— He has exams, Chiron — He nodded, and you made your way to the table where he was.

— In fact, there are problems, and apparently, he promised to come back this weekend — Your eyebrows furrowed again, and Dionysus laughed.

— Girl, shouldn't you be in New Rome?

— I went home for a few more things, also taking the opportunity to see my family, and it turns out that my little brother was helping an ex god who can't fend for himself, risking his studies. — You replied without looking at him — And speaking of brothers, you should control yours, Mr. D.

The god of wine snorted, and you formed a mocking smile. — Insolent.

— Miss Jackson — Chiron intervened, and you softened your gaze toward him — You can stay tonight, you know you're welcome and after all, it's too late to travel on Pegasus.

You didn't argue with them; you'd never put your pegasus in danger. So, for the first time in a long time, you returned to your cabin, the same one you shared with Percy and Tyson for so many years, and you had to admit that you missed him. At dawn, you were preparing to travel, and you left at the moment you thought no one was watching you, how wrong you were because a few meters away, Apollo was hidden behind the cabin piles, admiring you from afar.

— She… — He felt his heart tighten, and his gaze unfocused. He cursed his mortal body for how weak it was.

— Pervert! — Meg shouted, alerting the other campers who turned confused, and Apollo blushed.

— Shut up, I'm not a pervert — He smiled exaggeratedly at the others, pretending a smile and letting them know that everything was fine.

— You saw her — Said a voice behind him once Meg was far enough away to hear. The brunette turned and smiled sheepishly.

— For a second — Apollo replied, avoiding his old friend's gaze; embarrassment nibbled at his body, and it became evident once his cheeks glowed.

Chiron had never seen him… like that, so young, embarrassed, and notably imperfect, but despite Apollo's opinions about his recent change, he thought it suited him well, even found it amusing.

— You remember…

— I remember it well, Chiron — Apollo blushed even more — That's why I didn't approach her; dealing with my father's wrath is enough. Now I don't want to annoy Poseidon or I'll probably wake up dead on the lake shore tomorrow.

He played with the tips of his sneakers as buried them in the rocks on the floor; he looked like a scared little boy, but Chiron didn't judge him.

— I think you know what it means when she's around when you're close.

The ex god didn't want to pay attention, but he knew he was right.

— Although I remember who she is… there’s a problem. I don't remember how to avoid her…— Apollo's blue eyes looked directly at Chiron's, and the urgency on his face told him he was telling the truth. — If I don't know now, it's going to be harder; all I can do is hide if she's near.

— We've lasted many years with this circus, and as much as I respect the lord of the seas, I don't think this will last long. And you know what's more stubborn than a son of the sea god?

— The sea god — Apollo raised his eyebrows in annoyance, and Chiron resisted rolling his eyes.

— Fate, Apollo. You know it well, things are written. The prophecy is still there; it exists, and all we've done is delay the inevitable.

The brunette nodded with annoyance and waved his hand dismissively.

Although he wanted to pretend that he didn't care, the anxiety of what was to come ate at him. He knew very well that it wouldn't take long for you to discover what all these years had been hidden from you. If Apollo reflected better on that, he wasn't sure he wanted to continue keeping it to himself, either, 'cause those years had been torture for him. Yeah, he knew that you weren't yet mature enough for your mind to be stained with the weight of a prophecy that, unlike the others, not had to do with some quest or some imminent danger that threatened the entire world; but now you are in college, he couldn't wait for you to know.

The thing was, your father thought that the one who could be in danger was you, his precious daughter since Apollo was selfish, arrogant, and immature to have been around for eons. Poseidon could not fully explain the reason The Fates had woven such a destiny for you. So, until things had and could happen at the right time, in the right way, he warned Apollo to be close to you and he knew so well that be such an idiot idea to make him angry.

Before his thoughts could swallow him, Apollo shake them off and sigh to Chiron.

— Right now, I have a bigger problem. I think we've found something.

— Where?

— Here — Chiron frowned, and Apollo looked towards the camp's forest. — My dear friend, you have the Grove of Dodona here, in your playground.

Apollo didn't know that of all the decisions he had made in his life, avoid you was the best one he could make, because even if you had met that day or before, with the things that were about to happen to him, he wouldn't come back as half the man he was.

“Things at the moment, in time” the fates whispered in some place.

[storywriter007]

request: 2) This one is Percy Jackson x reader who gets seriously injured on the Argo II and tries to act like it's not that bad but then Percy (her boyfriend) forces her to let him look at it and it is really bad and he takes care of her and comforts her (kinda like the Leo fic where he cleans the wound on her back because I love that one so much), and then helps her fall asleep after.

You're Alright - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

author's note: i didn't want to do the same injury again, so i tried something new. i hope you like it :)

-> @c-evans-lover22

warnings: cursing, mentions of injury

genre: fluff

word count: 933

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

y/n's eyes filled with tears as she sat on the floor of the infirmary. how could this have happened? well, she knew exactly how it had happened.

one of gaea's mountain minions attacked the argo ll, and hurled rocks at the ship. they escaped, but not before a huge rock smashed into y/n's ankle. she had basically crawled to the infirmary.

she couldn't bring herself to stand up, her ankle wouldn't support her. she unlaced her high-tops, and tried to pull the shoe down.

"ow!" she whispered to herself. "ow, ow, ow, ow."

she managed to pull it off after immense pain. she carefully removed her sock and got to look at the beautiful sight that was her foot. it was bleeding, it was swollen, and it was just hideous. she tried to grab a towel, so she could wipe the blood off, but unfortunately, she was capable of nothing. she couldn't move and if she did, she'd knock everything over.

"y/n?" a voice called throughout the hallways. "y/n? oh, there you are!"

percy came into the infirmary.

"hey." she smiled.

"what're you doing on the floor-what happened?" he asked, looking at her disgusting ankle.

"nothing, i just got hit." she said, trying to hide the tears that had welled up in her eyes. "i'm fine."

"you're not fine. you're sitting on the floor of the infirmary with a swollen, bloody ankle that doesn't let you stand." he said, almost offended.

"it's really not that bad-"

before she could finish her sentence, she felt herself get picked up and placed on the exam table. she felt embarrassed at how warm her face felt. he picked her up so easily. he brought another exam table and put the together in an l-shape. he then took her leg and put it on the table he had brought over.

"thank you." she smiled. "but seriously percy-"

"you can do it on your own?" he chuckled. "i'm here for you y/n. please, accept my help."

she silently nodded as percy grabbed a towel and wet it with warm water. he gently wiped the blood away.

"let me know if anything hurts."

"i will."

percy washed her foot and ankle with soap and water. after that, he dried the area. instead of bloody and swollen, now it was just swollen.

"this is going to burn." he warned, before pressing the towel to the various small cuts she had acquired.

y/n hissed in pain.

"you're alright." he assured.

he kept going, until he got to her toes. when there wasn't a cut, it didn't burn, but when there was, it hurt like hell. afterwards, he put small band-aids on the cuts. he pressed the swollen spot.

"ouch! percy!" y/n blurted.

"i'm sorry." he said calmly. "i needed to see how bad the swelling was."

"is it bad?"

"nothin' to worry about." he smiled. "you'll be alright."

she felt herself relax. she might've not been able to walk, but she did feel alright.

he grabbed a roll of gauze and began wrapping it around the middle of her foot to her ankle. when he got to the swollen part, it squeezed her ankle, making her hand shoot up and grip percy's bicep.

"y/n, this isn't the best time to feel my muscles." he smiled.

"get your head out of the gutter." she laughed, gently pushing him away.

when percy was done wrapping her ankle up, she felt a lot better, but it still hurt. like she had been stabbed straight through the bone and with every movement of her foot, the knife bent inside of her. he gave her a little bit of ambrosia for the pain. percy quickly cleaned up and y/n tried to slide off the exam table but was stopped by percy putting her back in place.

"you can't put weight on it." he said, concern flooding his voice.

he cared. somebody cared. percy picked her up bridal style and walked out the infirmary. he set her down on her bed, and made a pillow mountain for her to keep her foot on.

"let me know if you need anything." he said, sincerity in his eyes.

"yeah." she paused. "can you, uh, stay here?"

"yeah." he smiled. "i can."

he laid down behind her, and pulled her down so she was laying on his chest while keeping her foot elevated. she could feel his breath down her neck as his arms wrapped around her. he smelled like salt-water and vanilla. she felt herself physically relax as she melted into his warm touch.

"thank you." she said, turning around to see his sea green eyes.

"always." he smiled.

they looked at each other for a moment before percy leaned down and kissed her. it was slow, and y/n was about to turn around so she could put her hands on him.

"no, you stay that way." he demanded, pulling back from the kiss.

"you're no fun." she whined, feeling percy turn her back around.

after an hour, y/n felt herself completely relax. her body felt fine, her mind was at peace, and for once, she didn't feel like the world had it out for her (even though it did, and that's why she had a swollen ankle). but for once, everything just felt alright. as she became one with percy's firm grip, the lights began to dim and her eyelids felt heavy.

"percy?" she whispered.

"i forgot to tell you i gave you a sleeping medicine." he whispered back.

"percy!" she whined, before falling asleep.

[valentinevibrations]

@mod gaea, some begging/subby maccready smut pls if possible... With a female sole pls?

Mac is mouthy as fuck but it’s all for show 

-Gaea

Diamond City felt like it was staring at them as Nora walked through its muddy streets with her hand in MacCready’s, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She swung their arms instead, humming quietly as she reached her front door. 

“You think Piper’s gonna make this headline news?” MacCready snorted. 

Her cheeks flushed even as Nora turned the key in the lock, pushing the door open. “I- I really hope not?”

Her sniper squeezed her hand gently, closing the door behind him once they were inside and locking it. “Relax, Nora. I won’t tarnish you too bad.”

That made her snort, and she turned around to cup his face and kiss him, eyes fluttering shut. “You had manners just now,” she complained breathily. 

MacCready was laughing between kisses. “Oh, you want me to have manners?” 

Her lips moved to his throat, remembering how much he’d trembled. A surge of confidence filled her. “Yeah. I do.” Nora drew back. “You said- something about my, my thighs, MacCready. Show me.”

He let out a low, strangled noise and tilted his head back, let her dig her teeth in before they were kissing again, moving across the floor and shedding clothes. A trail of discarded boots and pants followed them to the stairs. Nora pushed MacCready onto his back on the bed, straddling his waist. His hands found her bra and unhooked it, tossing it aside. Gun-callused thumbs rolled at her nipples, a moan escaping her throat.

“RJ,” she breathed. 

He groaned, and between hurried kisses the sniper reached a hand down and tugged off her panties. Nora tossed them aside, her fingertips skimming over the dusting of fair hair covering his bare chest. 

“You said- thighs,” she reminded him. 

“Yes, please, I wanna, I wanna eat you out so bad,” he panted, his hands finding her hips. 

Nora kissed him one more time and then clambered up the bed, her thighs spreading wide either side of his head. Her hand found his hair, careful purchase seating her firmly over his face. MacCready let out a slow breath. 

“How the f-frick are you so dang perfect everywhere?” he managed to ask. His lips brushed her inner thigh. 

Nora gasped. “F-fuck, I, I’m not.” 

MacCready’s mouth devoured her without warning, lips closing around her clit. Nora arched, her firm grasp on his hair keeping him in place as he sucked on the nub. Her voice filled the room, and her eyes fluttered shut at the relentless pleasure that rocked her bodily. 

“Oh, RJ!” she gasped, heat flushing every inch of her. 

It was almost a little too much, but Nora had been pent up since she realised MacCready was turned on only a little while earlier, and she was enjoying the sudden attention after so long without touch. The sound of his mouth made her ears burn, but any shame and embarrassment was washed away by ecstasy. 

“S-so, good,” she panted, “RJ, s-so- you’re, you’re so, good!”

A whine escaped him as her nails scraped over his scalp, and as Nora bore down on his face, one of his hands moved to cup her breast. She felt the other shifting, and then against her left thigh she could feel his shoulder, a constant movement that gave her plenty of idea just what he was doing as he ate her out. 

That feather-light, soft brush of tongue over her clit was what undid her. Nora shuddered through her orgasm as she cried out. Hot warmth rushed her, nipples sensitive under MacCready’s rough hand, and she felt his hand speed up beneath her as he tried to match the timing of her peak with his own. 

“F-rick,” he breathed, “I’m- I’m gonna, fuck, fuck!”

Nora flopped down onto the bed beside him, a hand reaching out to wrap around his and squeeze the grip on his cock. 

“Oh god, please!” MacCready whimpered, his throat bobbing. 

“Good, good boy,” she whispered. 

RJ came with a shout of surprise, blue eyes rolling up and closing as ropes of cum spurted across his stomach and coated his hand. 

“Ain’t fair,” he panted as he slowed his stroke and finally stopped, laying boneless on the bed with cum covering his fist.

Nora laughed as she kissed his shoulder. “Mmm. You, you, um, sounded like you enjoyed it.”

“Hmph.” He turned to look at her. “You still cheated.”

Her fingers dragged along his scalp and curled into his hair. “Maybe, maybe a, a little.”

MacCready’s throat bobbed. 

[cece693]

PLEASE PART TWO OF THAT NICO DI ANGELO FIC

I'm not even a fan nor do I know anything about the PJO series but that.. THAT fic makes me wanna start reading it

Sword Fighting Pt. 2 (Nico Di Angelo x Son of Aphrodite)

Part 1 can be found here, however, you don't need to read it to understand this.

tags: love confessions, Nico being overprotective, near-death experience, takes place during The Blood of Olympus, reader is injured (badly)

Time was something demigods rarely had, and Nico di Angelo had lived long enough to know that it always slipped through their fingers. He never planned to reveal his feelings for you, the son of Aphrodite, but as Gaea rose from her slumber and the earth itself raged in the final battle, regret gnawed at him.

He should’ve told you.

The battlefield was a maelstrom of chaos—monsters falling, demigods fighting with every last bit of strength they had left. The air was thick with dust and the stench of death, but through it all, Nico’s eyes sought you. You moved like a whirlwind, graceful and deadly, wielding your twin blades with a skill that defied your heritage.

Even now, in the heart of war, there was a terrible beauty to how you fought—fluid, precise, unstoppable. Nico's breath hitched as he watched you, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the battle around him. He had seen many things in his life—gods, monsters, and the depths of the Underworld—but he'd never seen anything as beautiful as you.

For a moment, it seemed like the battle was turning in their favor. The monsters were thinning, their numbers dwindling under the combined might of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. Nico’s heart pounded with a glimmer of hope. Maybe—just maybe—they had a chance.

Then it happened.

As the demigods paused to catch their breath, thinking they had won, a final foe—enormous, armored, and ancient—rose from the shadows, roaring with fury. The beast lunged, aiming straight for Hazel, its jagged weapon raised for a killing blow.

You didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, you threw yourself between the beast and Hazel. Nico saw it as if in slow motion—how your eyes flashed with determination and your blade shone in the sun as you swung to kill the beast before a sickening crunch echoed across the battlefield. You had saved Hazel, but you had also been stuck, crumpling to the ground, your blood spilling across the earth.

“No!” Nico’s voice tore through the chaos, a raw cry filled with panic and horror. He barely felt his feet moving as he sprinted toward you. He reached your side in what felt like an eternity, falling to his knees beside you. Blood stained through your armor, dark and thick, pooling beneath your body. Your face was pale, lips quivering as you struggled to draw breath.

“Nico…” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, eyes fluttering.

“No, no, no stay with me.” Nico pleaded, his hands trembling as he pressed them against your wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Around him, the other demigods rushed to your side—they moved quickly, but it felt agonizingly slow to Nico. The son of Aphrodite was barely conscious as Percy and Jason lifted him gently, careful not to jostle his broken form too much.

Hazel, pale with guilt and worry, led the way back to the makeshift camp they had set up behind the front lines. It was a patch of relative calm amidst the chaos of war, but Nico’s heart hammered in his chest like a storm.

“Will!” Nico screamed, his voice tight with fear. The blond healer turned around and paled upon seeing your state—ushering Percy and Jason to lay you in an empty bed.

“This is bad,” Will muttered, his voice hushed, trying to keep his composure as he assessed your chest. He pressed a glowing hand to your wound, his brow furrowed in concentration, but he shook his head slightly. “The weapon must’ve been enchanted—it’s deeper than it looks, and it’s not healing like it should.”

Nico’s throat tightened. “You can heal it though, right? You have to.”

Will glanced at Nico, his expression shadowed with doubt. “I don’t know, Nico. This kind of wound…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’ll do everything I can.” His grip on your hand tightened as Will began his work, the faint golden glow of healing energy surrounding your body, but Nico could tell it wasn’t enough.

Hours passed, and Will pushed himself to the limit, alternating between ambrosia, nectar, and healing magic, trying everything he knew. But still, your breathing was shallow, and the wound stubbornly refused to fully close. Nico stayed by your side the entire time, refusing to move, barely blinking as he watched every flicker of your face for a sign of improvement.

The others came and went—between the battle's cleanup and burning of shrouds—they all offered words of comfort, but Nico barely registered them. His world had narrowed to the cot where you lay, your face pale and peaceful as if already slipping into the void.

Days blurred together. Each dawn brought a renewed wave of dread, as Nico feared you wouldn’t wake up. Every breath you took seemed a miracle, but it wasn’t enough. Ambrosia was fed to you sparingly, Will careful not to overuse it. Every time you twitched or murmured in your sleep, Nico’s heart leapt, only to sink again when you didn’t stir beyond that.

He never left your side.

“Nico you need to rest,” Will urged gently, exhaustion lining his own features. “You’ve been here for days. You can’t keep going like this.”

Nico shook his head. “I’m not leaving him.”

Will opened his mouth to argue but stopped. He knew better than to push Nico. The look in his eyes—dark, haunted—was enough to silence any protest. He had seen that look before, in the faces of those who had lost too much already, those who were on the edge of breaking. “Okay.” Will said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Nico’s shoulder before stepping out of the tent. His footsteps faded, leaving the ghost king alone in the dimly lit space.

Nico leaned forward, resting his forehead on the back of your hand. His body was heavy with exhaustion, every muscle aching from his own battle wounds and malnutrition, not having eaten anything in days, but he couldn't leave. Nico wouldn't. The thought of walking away, even for a moment, felt like abandonment—like if he left your side, you might slip away for good. And that…that was something Nico couldn’t bear.

“I convinced myself there was time to tell you how I felt,” Nico said, his voice cracking, each word feeling like it was pulled from a wound too deep to close. “But now…now it might be too late.”

His breath hitched, and he squeezed your hand tighter, as if holding onto you physically would stop you from slipping away. He could feel the faint warmth of your skin, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t feel real—none of this did. You were so still, your chest rising and falling with shallow, labored breaths. The strong, brilliant demigod he admired—no, loved—reduced to this fragile, fading presence in the cot before him.

Nico swallowed hard, the ache in his chest nearly unbearable. "I should’ve told you the moment I realized. I should’ve been braver. But I was scared. Scared that you wouldn’t feel the same, or worse—that if I let you in, you’d leave me. Like Bianca did."

The name hung heavy in the air, thick with old grief. His sister. His rock. The one person who had ever made him feel less alone—until you came along. Losing her had shattered him in ways he’d never fully recovered from, and the thought of losing you now? It was a nightmare he couldn’t endure.

“I couldn’t handle it,” Nico whispered, his voice trembling as the confession spilled out. “If you leave me, I don’t know if I’ll survive it. Not again. I’m not strong enough to go through that again.”

The dam broke, and the words came faster, more desperate. “I swear, if you die on me, I’ll follow you. I don’t care what Will or anyone says. I’ll follow you to Elysium if I have to." He pressed his forehead against the back of your hand, his body shaking with the effort of holding back tears. "I love you. I should’ve said it before. I love you, and I’m not ready to let you go."

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Nico stayed perfectly still, the weight of his confession hanging between you, the silence around him thick and unbearable. Then, faintly, a shift—a movement so small Nico almost didn’t notice it. Your fingers twitched beneath his.

His eyes snapped open, and he lifted his head in disbelief. A soft, rasping sound reached his ears. “Nico…” His heart lurched. Your eyes fluttered open, bleary and filled with pain, but undeniably alive. You coughed weakly, wincing at the movement, but your lips curled into a faint smile. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Nico froze, staring at you as if you were a ghost. The relief hit him so suddenly that he couldn’t breathe. “You’re awake…” His voice was barely a whisper, disbelief coloring every word.

Your smile widened just a fraction, though it was strained with effort. “You didn’t think I’d leave you, did you?”

Nico’s relief was overwhelming, but it didn’t come without an edge of something sharper. Anger, bitter and cold, began to surface as he stared at you, still fragile but alive. The thought of how close you came to dying—how close he came to losing you—made his chest tighten painfully.

He pulled back, his expression hardening, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “What the hell were you thinking!? You nearly died out there!”

You blinked, still groggy but more aware now, and gave a weak smile. “Someone had to, right?” you rasped, trying to lighten the tension, but Nico wasn’t having it.

“That’s not the point!” Nico’s voice was louder than he intended, eyes burning with something between fury and heartbreak. “You could’ve died. You almost did."

Your smile widened, even as you winced at the effort. “You would’ve done the same thing,” you said, your voice hoarse but filled with that infuriating calmness. “If it had been you, and Hazel was in danger, you wouldn’t have hesitated.”

Nico froze, his jaw clenching as the truth of your words settled over him. He wanted to argue, to shout at you for being reckless and careless with your life, but he couldn’t. You were right, and that only made it worse. If the roles were reversed, Nico knew, deep down, that he would’ve done exactly the same thing.

You smirked at his silence, clearly pleased with yourself. “See?” you said softly, your voice still weak but playful. “I know you, di Angelo.”

Nico scowled, but his anger was already slipping away, replaced by something warmer, something he couldn’t quite name but felt deep in his bones. He didn’t reply to your teasing, didn’t trust himself to say anything without his emotions spilling over again. Instead, he just shook his head and muttered, “You’re impossible.”

You laughed, though it quickly turned into a pained cough. Nico’s heart clenched again, his worry returning in full force. “I don’t care what you think,” He said after a moment, his voice quieter now, but still laced with intensity. “Next time, don’t throw your life away for anyone. Not Hazel. Not even me.”

You met his gaze, your smile softening. “I won’t.” you said, though the glint in your eyes told him you were lying. Nico didn’t reply to that. He knew you too well—knew that your words were empty promises. But for now, you were alive, and that was all that mattered.

[witchofthesouls]

Alternatively, Prima can be the one doing the dealing. He's developed a guilty conscience over leading his brothers into a trap, & seeing them get forcibly Claimed broke something inside of him. He used to be more aloof & stern. Now, he constantly checks on his siblings & is is highly disproportionate in dealing with threats to their safety. Massively overcorrecting in an attempt to make up for past behavior. His corruption is more physical than mental (tho there is still some mind fraggery going on back there). His body is beginning to swell up with the accumulated souls. He still refuses medical attention most of the time (read: anytime his siblings are slightly bruised or dented). He makes a deal with Vince's (Jack's bully in Prime) family. Decades later, Vince has to deal with the full Helicopter Grandpa experience.

I got set headcanons for the Thirteen, so in an AU where they're all claimed by Earth, Prima and Megatronus would be the main ones that anchor Unicron into the planet, ensuring the Dark God couldn't escape as no one could escape their grasp when the twins work together.

(Unicron absolutely fucking hates them because they are a literal reflection of Primus and Unicron, yet they were capable of cooperation unlike the first set of splitted twins. This ironically would Unicron little more active out of sheer rage and spite to bring their alliance down.)

It would be interesting to explore how Earth would differ, especially with all the siblings there and Earth being Earth.

Since Prima rules above and Megatronus rules below, they can still keep tabs on everyone and everything. However, they can only speak in dreams and visions, in the space-between-spaces, in places where the physical and spirit worlds intersect. They literally carved their own bones to cage Unicron. They don't have a physical form at the moment, but they are able to communicate through divine instruments and champions.

Solus would most likely lend their strength to them, bridging life and death in a perpetual cycle of renewal and destruction. Who else had applied the glyphs to their structures to further chain the Unmaker?

Quintus would most likely be lost. He's Gaea's first love. The Fallen Star who pulled down the rest of the once distant constellation. She won't let him go. He would be trapped in a dream within a dream. Deep within Elsewhere.

Liege Maximo would be an eternal wandering bard and trickster. Alpha Trion would be a traveler as well. Constantly documentating the ventures and refining searches. Alpha would have preferences for institutions compared to Liege, who goes where hearths are.

I doubt there would be a Law of Separation on this version of Earth, so definitely a lot of wilder shit going on here...

And on Cybertron.

Imagine if this Earth became the Cybertronian version of the Underworld/ Underhill/the Realm Beyond? Primes still gotta happen, right?

What if mecha used Earth for a spirit quest because that entire place is too trippy to rationalize it as a real planet? So there's the birth of new mythos and folktales, especially if some of them get stolen or bring back a spouse.

[somepsychopomp]

A Fair Contest

So a little bit ago I drafted an idea for an AU where, instead of the golden apple saying 'to the fairest' it says 'to the most amorous king'

And instead of the ladies fighting over the apple, it's Zeus & Poseidon. In order to determine who exactly is the superior lover (and king + who gets bragging rights), the two brothers select one (un)fortunate mortal that both of them shall take to bed...

and the judge they select for their little contest is none other than Odysseus.

(Takes place pre-Trojan War. In fact there's basically no Trojan War to begin with. Also Odysseus is betrothed but not yet married to Penelope)

Consider this chapter 1 of this fic. I really hope I can finish it because I stayed up to almost 4 am writing this, which is amazing because I've been dealing with a major cold and writers block for a while now

Word Count: approx. 4400

There's no smut yet but I do confess to giving Ody a bubble butt. Also in a world where Ruthlessness never happened/is yet to happen... Poseidon has a thing for strong thighs & is absolutely smitten with Odysseus

Also in my head, I'm imagining Neal's character designs but I think I've kept it vague enough for now that you can imagine whatever designs you like

+++

The wedding had been a most splendid sight, with revelry among both men and gods. The small mortal king, Peleus, was of course honored to host such a wide variety of the gods and have them witness his union with the divine Thetis. Zeus gave the couple his own blessing and permitted Dionysus to pour out his strongest wine for the occasion. 

Well into the night, the attendees danced to a tireless band and feasted upon the finest foods available. Gods mingled with mortals, some sneaking off with a young maiden or cupbearer for some more illicit fun. 

All was going well until the first beam of daylight shone upon a pedestal that no guest noticed before, where a golden apple awaited. 

Curious onlookers clustered around it, wondering where it could have come from. The mortals believed the apple to be made of real gold, thinking it was a lavish wedding gift. The gods were equally mystified, knowing that something so perfect and beautiful could only be given by one of their own. Hera pursed her lips at the sight of it. 

The king of the gods made his way to the center of the crowd, the other guests parting for him with their eyes averted in deference. He regarded the apple with mild curiosity, having a treasury greater than all of Greece’s wealth upon Olympus. A ribbon was tied neatly to the apple’s stem with a message embroidered upon it. 

“To the most amorous king.”

Zeus chuckled at the oddity of this little present and moved to take the apple. 

Only for another hand to grab it at the very same moment. 

The two gods stared at each other. 

“What do you think you’re doing, dear brother?” Zeus asked, the smile falling from his face. 

Poseidon rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Taking my prize.”

“You?” Zeus said, his voice dripping with outrage, “You dare defy your king like this?”

Poseidon’s voice turned sharp and cold. “I am lord of the seas! The gift doesn’t say ‘to the king of the skies’, now does it? No, you read it yourself.”

The mortal guests, including King Peleus, began to make their quick exit from the venue. Some of the lesser gods were also making their sneaky escape, fearing the worst was about to come. 

Hera approached her husband and wrapped her arms around his own, “Darling, it’s just an apple. If you want one, I’ve got a whole orchard full.”

It was true that Gaea, the very earth itself, gave Hera a grove of enchanted apple trees as her wedding gift. The trees were immune to all illnesses and sprouted fruit of pure gold all year round. In all likelihood, this very apple was stolen from the Queen’s orchard.

The god-king’s most favorite child appeared at his other side in an attempt to soothe his growing rage, “Father, listen to Queen Hera. This is a trick meant to sew discord, nothing more.”

Zeus ignored his daughter Athena as if she weren’t there. 

“Let it go, my love.” Hera said, “After all, why have one apple when you could have hundreds?”

Zeus gave her a sharp look, his golden eyes burning with a harsh, radiant glow. The queen of the gods was so taken aback that she shrunk away under the weight of his glare. Zeus said, “I am the god of judgement! No matter how trivial of a token it is, I will not let my brother take what does not rightfully belong to him!” 

Poseidon threw his head back and laughed, not one to be daunted, “Oh, is that so? And how will you prove that it doesn’t belong to me, hm?”

He tossed the golden apple into the air, catching it in his other hand. Zeus bared his teeth and snatched Poseidon’s wrist, unwilling to let elder brother even hold the thing. 

It was now apparent to all the remaining gods what this was really about. 

Neither king would secede when their pride and egos were in jeopardy. For either of them, letting the other take the apple now, after they’ve already started bickering, would mean admitting they were the more feeble lord, a less competent lover. And such a slight against their reputations would never stand. 

“Ahem,” a voice said. 

A lovely woman with flawless bare skin for all the world to admire, a translucent shawl draped around her arms and roses in her pale tresses, stepped forward. 

Zeus barely spared her a glance. “What is it, Aphrodite?”

She smiled, though not without a hint of mischief in her eyes, “I think I have the solution to this little conflict of ours, one that will minimize any substantial damage to our family… or the known world.”

Zeus inclined his head in interest. Poseidon gave the goddess his ear, as well. Zeus let go of his brother and the sea god set the apple down. 

Athena bit her lower lip, knowing that Aphrodite’s schemes were almost never more than just that: schemes. Games to amuse herself with. She had something else in mind. 

Aphrodite snapped her fingers. A large, circular mirror gilded in silver and gold appeared in the air behind her. The surface rippled the same way a pond did when met with rainfall. 

A beautiful young maiden with a long braid of black hair tended to her garden. The image rippled and was replaced with what was clearly a princess being dressed for the day by her servants. Again, the image shifted and showed a handsome young man in a short chiton as he shepherded his flock of sheep. 

Aphrodite said, “Now, I’m sure you two could spend eternity bickering back and forth, boasting of your skills and past conquests, but as the goddess of love myself… why not have more of a practical examination?”

The two brothers exchanged a look, coming to the same conclusion. 

“You want us to share a lover?” Poseidon asked. 

Zeus added, “And have them decide?”

Aphrodite winked and gave them a cheerful smile. “Well, what do you say? There’s no shortage of pretty boys or girls across the land. Come, take your pick!”

Zeus stroked his beard, a few sparks crackling across his fingertips. Poseidon crossed his arms in contemplation. 

“Father, Uncle!” Athena said, trying to catch their attention, “This is madness, can you not see?”

But neither god answered her. Athena was in disbelief. 

All this over a golden apple that neither needed or really wanted. This was all about their reputations as accomplished lovers, which they shouldn’t even have considering they were both married men. 

And Aphrodite, it was clear she was only doing this to make a story out of it, the way she and her son Eros loved to couple mortals together, only to break them apart. No doubt some terrible fate will befall the chosen victim, no matter who they named the superior lover. 

In Athena’s mind, she could only imagine the loser of this game casting some bitter curse upon the poor mortal as revenge. But that was the fun of it for some gods, to see the doomed fate of some poor soul after getting mixed up with the divine. 

Behind Zeus’ back, Hera threw her hands into the air before storming off, summoning her chariot pulled by winged horses to return her to Olympus. 

Athena threw a disappointed look at Aphrodite before leaving as well, deciding to go where her counsel would be appreciated. 

+++

By mid-morning, Odysseus’ back and brow were already covered in sweat as he endeavored to finish the roof over his wedding bed before an unfortunate rain could sully his hard work below. 

The house he was raised in was perfectly fine, but with all the servants and guards on top of his family, it was not the largest of castles. It was also an old thing in constant need of repairs. Odysseus always envisioned a proper palace atop Ithaca’s mountains, one where his own family could grow large and have plenty of space to themselves. 

So, before the eve of his wedding, he endeavored to complete the house of his dreams for his new wife to enjoy. He started with their olive tree, a living symbol of his devotion to his betrothed. Odysseus labored day and night to carve part of it into one of the four posts for his wedding bed, taking extreme caution to not cut away so much that the tree would die. 

The largest bough of the olive tree would overlook one of their windows, with a perfect view of the vast ocean beyond it. Odysseus already carved the other three bed posts and constructed the frame, but there was always more work to do. As the common larborers constructed the foundation and walls for the other rooms in the palace, Odysseus went to work constructing the roof for his bedroom. 

With a sizable living tree in such close proximity to his quarters, he trusted no one but himself to complete the project without damaging it. 

Taking up hammer and nails, hauling wood and stone, and fitting everything into place almost entirely on his own was unusual for a king. Odysseus knew this, but the labor brought him joy like no other. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, imagining opening the door for the very first time as a married man. He would carry Penelope to their wedding bed, built entirely by his hand, and spend the rest of his life with her. 

Focus, he told himself. 

For now, Penelope still dwelled in her natal homeland of Sparta. As soon as her new home was completed, she would set sail for Ithaca.  

Odysseus wiped the sweat from his brow as the sun beat its rays upon his back. Maybe it was foolish to fear the coming rainfall, but he could see the grayish clouds on the horizon.

By midday, he was hopeful he could have the roof finished by nightfall. As Odysseus dropped from one of the wooden rafters into his nearly-complete bedroom, his tunic must have caught on a nail or perhaps a large splinter. He heard the sharp tearing of fabric and grumbled at the gash across his front. One of the room’s alcoves had some of his clothes, since he didn’t have time yet to build the chests or wardrobe. 

Thinking better of a tunic, Odysseus merely replaced it with a rectangular length of cloth fastened at the waist. It was something his mother wove, a lovely shade of blue to match the sea, embroidered with red and white thread. 

From somewhere nearby, he heard the familiar clicking of an owl’s beak coming to greet him. He smiled and turned around, draping his tunic over his arm as his mentor approached him in the form of a brown and white speckled owl. She sank her talons into his arm and flapped her wings as if in outrage. 

He let her perch on the alcove’s lip as he fasted a leather pauldron to his left shoulder. She hopped back on and Odysseus could feel her talons clench and unclench even through the tough leather. 

“What troubles you, Athena?” Odysseus asked. 

He set out through the bedroom’s heavy oak doors, finding himself in a long hallway that was finished, but not yet furnished or cleaned. 

She spoke into his mind, Sometimes, I wish I could belong to any other family but my own. 

Odysseus chuckled. “I’m sorry to hear.”

While he loved his parents and sister dearly, he knew that Athena often butted heads with her siblings and uncle. 

Odysseus counted the windows that still needed shutters and curtains, along with the patches in the roof that had yet to be filled in. Farther along, the great hall where they would entertain guests was still only a skeleton. Only half of the supporting beams and columns were installed and the whole place reeked of sweating men. 

Athena paid the laborers no mind as the citizens of Ithaca bowed for their king as he walked by. 

You know I’m not one for gossip, but I fear something terrible is about to strike the land. 

“Is that so?” Odysseus asked, his smile dropping. 

Yes, a terrible tragedy yet to come in the form of my Uncle Poseidon and my father. 

A servant approached Odysseus with a serving platter. He took a cup of water and drank deeply, and snatched a small bowl of olives before going on his way. 

“They’re angry with us?” Odysseus asked, fearing what this might mean for his people.

No, Athena said, accepting an olive and biting into the tender flesh with her sharp beak, Not quite, but their egos are yet again showing themselves. If you find unusual weather patterns in the next few days, pay them no mind. 

“Ah, I see.”

In truth, he didn’t understand Athena at all. But she seemed in the mood to vent about her personal feelings and seeing as she didn’t do so often, Odysseus was careful to listen. 

Athena clacked her beak in irritation. Odysseus bit into his own olive as he felt a sharp nibble on his ear before she started combing through his damp hair. She must’ve found something in his hair, a bit of dust or a wood chip, because he could feel her tugging at him. 

How goes construction on the new palace?

“Every day, I can see the way it’s growing.”

Odysseus passed by a group of men sitting in a loose circle, taking swigs from a water skin as they fanned themselves. One caught sight of Odysseus and they all scrambled to their feet. 

Odysseus held out a hand to put them at ease, “Catch your breath if you must. A tired man is more prone to making mistakes, and I will not have any in my new house.”

The men all sighed in relief and went back to their break, waving goodbye as he continued onward. Athena cooed to show her approval in his decision. He thought her mood was improving, but not a moment later, she said, I just can’t believe them sometimes. 

“Oh?”

Odysseus thought Athena said her piece already. She clicked his beak right in his ear. 

You would think that the god of law and order would have some sense in his head. But no! Apparently my mother Metis still possesses it. If only Father would listen to her, if not me.

Odysseus said nothing, having never heard Athena speak like this before, especially about her father. He thought it best to remain silent; perhaps Athena could complain about Zeus without punishment, but he knew far better. 

Athena clicked her beak with a different sense of urgency and Odysseus gave her another olive. She held it in one foot while balancing on the other, dropping the pit when she was finished devouring the flesh. 

“You seem awfully worked up,” Odysseus said, “Anything I can do to lift your burdens?”

Athena shook her head. No, I’m afraid this is something that no one man can solve, as frustrating as it might sound. 

He crossed the central courtyard and approached the war room, one of the few nearly-complete parts of the palace, where his chief architects and advisors were waiting to update him on their progress. 

Though Odysseus was primarily trained in the art of war, he was also well-versed in song and poetry, history, oratory, and arithmetic, all courtesy of Athena. He wasn’t an expert in architecture yet, but he had his own hand in designing the layout of the palace. 

“Good day, my friends.” Odysseus said, parting the curtains that served as a makeshift door until the palace was fitted with proper ones. 

One of his elder advisors squinted at Athena upon his shoulder. “My liege?”

Before they could go over any potential issues in the construction or their budgetary concerns, Odysseus wandered over to the window and let Athena take off. She disappeared through the trees, though he knew he’d see her again soon.

+++

Despite the fact the sun was about to set and the two godly kings had been bickering all day long, Aphrodite hadn’t lost her patience yet. In fact, she was even reveling in her task at hand. 

They moved their business to her abode on Olympus, where her many mirrors were put to good use. Zeus and Poseidon scoured the lands for a suitable judge to measure their sexual prowess, each of them interested in different aspects of what made up a potential lover. 

Zeus was pleased with just about any pretty face that breathed, but Poseidon was a bit pickier with appearances. He didn’t want his maidens or young men to be too skinny, and he seemed to have a preference for those with strong legs. Aphrodite could certainly work within those bounds. 

At the same time, Poseidon was more open to sharing a lover with some previous sexual experience, thinking it’d make the whole process easier. Zeus wrinkled his nose at the idea and insisted he wanted someone “new”, not wanting to muck about after some vastly lesser mortal man had his way with their chosen judge. 

Aphrodite agreed that was a good point, so instead of letting the two kings squabble, she put her talents as a matchmaker to good use. After a brief consultation, she put together a list of minimum requirements that satisfied both gods. 

One, their shared lover had to be attractive, preferably with appealing legs. 

Two, they had to be virginal. 

Three, they all agreed that the mortal should come from high standards, so some form of royalty. They could be a princess or a prince, or even someone lesser than that, but anyone of a noble bloodline would be preferable to a random maiden. Of course, both kings had their fair share of peasant-girl chasing, but for such an important competition, Aphrodite understood their concerns well. 

And lastly, the judge should be someone intelligent. Someone who wouldn’t buckle under the pressure of their assigned task and would be able to use not just their body, but logic to determine the true and indisputable winner. 

No doubt each god had their plans to bribe the judge, but who wouldn’t?

If it was Aphrodite competing for the apple, she wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a few tricks of her own. An idiot might be easy to bribe, but that also meant they’d be easy for the competition to bribe as well. To each of the male gods, an intelligent lover would certainly be able to recognize a superior bribe.

“Sadly, your stipulations exclude Helen of Sparta,” Aphrodite said, waving away the image of Helen in her largest mirror, “She’s had children by now, though she’s still quite lovely.”

Poseidon made a noncommittal sound, as if he might reconsider, but Zeus urged Aphrodite to move onto the next candidate with a flick of his wrist. The two of them sat before her best mirror, looking almost comical in her rose-colored, dove-ingrained armchairs. 

They went through a few more potential candidates, including Penelope of Sparta and Ctimene of Ithaca. Neither god was very impressed by her choices, but just as Aphrodite was about to move onto the next candidate, Poseidon held out a hand. 

“Wait a moment,” he said, his eyes narrowing, “Who is that in the back?”

“Oh?” Aphrodite asked. She returned to the image of Ctimene. She was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, her veil fluttering in her wake as her handmaidens walked with her. They seemed to be exiting some great ruin, but on closer inspection, the gods could see men at work. They were building a great palace, it seemed. 

Well, great by the standards of mortals. 

Behind Ctimene, a bare-chested young man held out a hand and seemed to be directing a group of others. Aphrodite’s mirror rippled and showed them the young man in greater detail, leaving young Ctimene out entirely. 

“Oh,” Zeus said. 

Aphrodite concealed her eager smile, more thrilled than ever at this sudden twist. She examined the young man’s features, including the sharp angles of his nose, his dense locks of dark brown hair, and his high cheekbones. He bore a striking resemblance to Ctimene. As the goddess of love, there were a few other details Aphrodite could parse out just by looking at him, but she would conceal her thoughts for now. 

She said, “Why, that would be none other than King Odysseus of Ithaca!” 

Though the young ruler was about the same height as his sister, he was no slight-of-frame weakling. His broad shoulders complimented his strong chest and arms, certainly the build of a warrior. His stomach was a flat plain and below his garments, well muscled thighs teased them almost playfully. 

A pale scar ran along the inside of one of his thighs, but it only added to his character. Though Poseidon maintained his interest, Zeus scoffed. 

“King, you say?” Zeus nudged his brother, “You know what that means.”

Poseidon was still appraising Odysseus’ thighs, “Plenty of whores in and out of his bed?”

“Actually!” Aphrodite said, clapping her hands, “You’ll be beyond pleased to know that young Odysseus here… is virginal.”

Now that had both gods’ attention. The King of the Gods seemed incredulous.

“How old is he?” Zeus asked. 

“Twenty years, my dearest king.”

“And he’s still a virgin?” Poseidon asked, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. “Why? Is he stupid?”

Aphrodite giggled behind her hand, “He’s determined to save himself for marriage, like a maiden! But it can’t be helped. I do believe he’s Athena’s pupil, after all. And I’m sure she holds him to what she perceives as a high standard.”

Aphrodite rolled her eyes, “Whatever the case may be, he’s remained celibate thus far. Perfectly ripe and ready to be plucked, if you would.”

The gods of the sea and sky shared a look. 

Zeus said, “Show us more.”

Aphrodite was more than happy to do exactly that. She waved her hand and the stationary image of Odysseus began to move. There was no sound to accompany the vision, but all three of them remained silent as they watched Odysseus work. 

He carried multiple rucksacks full of supplies up the spiral staircases of his house while other laborers stopped to eat their dinner. He seemed more than intent to get somewhere, not stopping until he came across a large bedroom with the roof still letting in sunlight in a few patches. Interestingly, while the bed was large and well made, it lacked a mattress or rug thrown over the rungs. Perhaps that would come later. 

Odysseus hopped out the window, seemingly ignorant to the fact there was a steep drop right below him, as he grabbed hold of a tree bough and climbed into the roof. It looked like he was intent on using every last bit of sunlight to his advantage as he finished laying out the clay shingles. 

The sweat across his body glistened like stardust as the sky above him glowed with the most beautiful shades of red and gold. He put his strong body to use by covering the few bare patches of his rooftop, stopping only to retrieve a shallow clay bowl from his pack, filling it with oil and floating a wick on top before igniting his lamp to give him a bit more light. 

Zeus snapped his fingers. In an instant, Hermes was fluttering at his side. 

“Yes, Father?”

Without taking his eyes off of Odysseus, Zeus said, “Contact Helios. Tell him to wait a while longer before dusk arrives.”

Hermes spared Odysseus a brief glance before nodding and flying off. Though the mortal didn’t seem to notice, the sun did indeed stop setting. 

Odysseus set down his hammer to dab his sweat-soaked face with a rag. He was tiring now, but intent on finishing his job if the determined look in his eyes was any indication. 

Poseidon held up one hand and curled a finger toward himself. 

The hammer that Odysseus just set down began sliding toward the edge of the roof. 

“Brother…” Zeus warned. 

Poseidon said, “Trust me.”

Odysseus snatched the hammer before it could fall, but found himself quite close to the edge now. 

Poseidon cupped his hands around his mouth and blew softly. A wind coming off Ithaca’s coast kicked up, carrying the salty scent of the ocean with it. As Odysseus stood with his hammer, he raised his other hand to shield his eyes from the sudden gust of wind that ruffled his hair and clothing. 

Aphrodite’s eyes widened, instantly recognizing the game Poseidon was playing. She added her own flare as well, using just the slightest twirl of her finger to undo the belt holding young Odysseus’ garments in place. 

The poor young king seemed baffled by his sudden misfortune, moving swiftly to capture his garment before the wind could steal it away. Aphrodite froze the image without being told to do so, but she was quite proud of her timing. 

Odysseus stood in all his mortal splendor, revealing his tan skin scarred by past adventures. He was healthy, with the body of an athlete and his arm outstretched to better display the toned muscles under his skin.  

“What a surprise!” Aphrodite said with mirth, tracing her finger along the surface of the mirror, “Look at his little dimples!” 

Indeed, a twin set of dimples rested over his lower back, no longer concealed by his clothing. But that was not all. Some men were cursed to be rather flat in their rear, leaving them looking awkward or incomplete at times, but Aphrodite was equally pleased that Odysseus had something worth looking at below his dimples. In addition to the well-defined muscles in his shoulders and back, he sported the most grabbable bottom. 

If Odysseus was not doomed to be the plaything between kings, Aphrodite might have been tempted to take him for herself. 

She held out her hands as if Odysseus was nothing more than an exotic animal on display. Poseidon was leaning forward in his chair, his head tilted with interest. Zeus, too, seemed sold at last. His golden eyes sparkled more brightly than usual as he traced over the little king’s backside. He ran his tongue over his teeth. 

Aphrodite smiled, “So, my dears… what do you say? Is Odysseus of Ithaca to be your judge?”

...

Read an excerpt of Chapter 2 here!

[anotheroceanid]

(I was editing some things in the next chapter)

Btw, now I’m going to sleep