#apollo and his sunsets

[visiodeii]

even after the storm, His sun shines

[mashed-tots]

sunset

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke x fem!reader

you’re back at camp after your quest with Luke, but your mind can’t seem to be able to forget what happened days ago like Luke has, and you’re in the need of a private conversation to clarify some things, and that’s all it has to be, a conversation… right?

part two to this fic <3

warnings: injuries, cursing, arguing, s3x, oral s3x (f receiving), non protected p in v, kissing, biting, slight fluff at the end, kinda dom!luke

lil taglist for those who asked for part two 🫶🏻: @pocototis , @amortiff , @angelfrombeneth , @niceskyler , @onegirlonewriter

₊˚⊹♡

Exhausted. That feeling was clinging to you and Luke like a second skin as you limped back into Camp Half-Blood with Percy and Annabeth at your side. The quest, a blur of adrenaline and monster-slaying, had been a success, but victory came at a price. Luke, his face pale despite the fading sunset, sported a nasty gash across his thigh, a souvenir from an unfortunate encounter with a particularly grumpy cyclop. You, on the other hand, cradled your right arm close to your chest, the throbbing pain in your shoulder escalating with every step.

Despite the aches and groans echoing within your small group, a sense of triumph resonated in the cheers that erupted from the campers milling about the Half-Blood Hill. Your arrival sparked a wave of excited chatter, a flurry of questions about the details of your adventure. The camp bustled with activity, a comforting normalcy after the chaos they'd faced.

"Whoa, guys, you look rough" Grover noted with concern as he approached you. He cast a worried glance at your injured arm.

The Apollo cabin had taken good care of you both. Lee Fletcher, the ever-patient son of Apollo, had fussed over Luke's wound with practiced ease, the gash healing miraculously fast under his ministrations.

"Luke, your cut isn't too bad" Lee declared to him, his voice calm despite the urgency in his eyes. "Just needs some ambrosia and nectar, and you'll be good as new."

You, however, were a different story.

"Dislocated and a hairline fracture" Lee had declared with a frown, his touch surprisingly gentle as he manipulated your injured shoulder back into place. "You've been harboring that injury for a few days now, haven't you?"

You winced, your face flushing slightly. Between the adrenaline rush of the quest and… what happened with Luke, your shoulder was the last thing you thought about besides the pain. "Uh, yeah" you stammered, ashamed even towards the younger camper.

Lee sighed, a hint of exasperation in his eyes, but he gave you a soft smile. “You´ll heal quick, don´t worry, but not as quickly as Luke. You'll have to stay a while longer."

Those "whiles" had stretched into two agonizing days. Two days spent staring at the whitewashed ceiling, the silence broken only by the steps of Apollo campers around you or at the Big House. The days blurred by in a haze of rest and ambrosia.

But you couldn´t stop thinking about Luke.

That-, thing that happened all of a sudden, a moment of raw emotion and desperate vulnerability, replayed endlessly in your mind. The memory of his touch, the warmth of his breath tangling with yours, sent shivers down your spine. It was a betrayal, not just of the rivalry that defined your relationship with Luke, but a betrayal of yourself. You weren't supposed to feel this way about him, the enemy, the bane of your existence.

But the morning after, you just acted as if nothing had happened, you never talked about it. The tension was your new best friend now, a suffocating weight that you couldn't seem to escape. How could you go back to the way things were after experiencing that spark of something —what felt like— more?

Frustration simmered within you. Ignoring what you both experienced felt like burying your head in the sand. Did it mean anything to him? Was it just a fleeting moment of desperation, a shared vulnerability in the face of danger?

Finally, the day arrived when Lee, with a practiced smile and a reassuring pat on your shoulder, declared you fit for duty. Relief washed over you, tinged with a nervous excitement. You practically stumbled out of the infirmary, the familiar sights and sounds of camp a welcome symphony after the sterile monotony of your confinement.

Your eyes scanned the crowded pavilion, searching for the shock of dark and braided hair that always seemed to set your nerves alight. You spotted Annabeth only because she ran to you as soon as she saw you. She pulled you in a hug that almost broke your bones.

"There you are!" she exclaimed. The concern etched on her face as if you had spent three weeks away from her. "How are you feeling? How’s your shoulder?”

“It´s good now, Lee took good care of it” you explained, walking back to the pavilion with her.

The well-wishes of the fellow campers offered a comforting sense of normalcy. Yet, your gaze remained fixed on the Hermes table, searching for a specific face.

"Where's Luke?" you finally asked Annabeth, a knot forming in your stomach.

"Right behind you” came the voice you knew too well.

He stood there, an unreadable mask plastered on his face. The air crackled with tension again, a contrast to the cheerful chatter surrounding you.

"I'm glad you're okay" he said, his voice flat. It was impossible to tell if he meant it or if it was simply a polite formality.

"Same thing" you replied, not really trying your best to put on show for the rest of the campers, or him.

A curt nod was all the reply you received, the gesture felt like a handshake from a stranger. He then turned and walked away, disappearing back to the Hermes table where his half-siblings awaited him.

You settled down at your own table, the clatter of silverware and chatter a welcoming difference to the sterile silence of the infirmary. You reached for the so sacred mashed potatoes you loved, but your appetite seemed to have vanished. Your gaze kept flitting towards the Hermes table, drawn to the mop of dark hair that seemed to defy gravity. He was there, talking with his half-siblings, a faint smile playing on his lips. Sometimes his gaze drifted towards you, his had features tightening, before he quickly looked away. Other times, you'd find his face turned elsewhere, lost in conversation with Chris or the Stoll brothers, who sat in front of him.

One of your cabin half-sisters leaned over, her voice filled with excitement in your ear. "There's supposed to be a party in the woods tonight. Wanna come?"

The temptation was strong. A night of revelry with your friends sounded far more appealing than dwelling on the awkwardness with Luke. But you shook your head instead. "Nah, I think I'll pass," you said, trying to sound casual.

Truth be told, your brain was working with the precision of a well-oiled machine. A hidden party meant curious campers, prying eyes. What you needed was a private conversation, a chance to finally address the elephant in the room.

As the campers began to disperse after dinner, Taking a deep breath, you made your way towards the Hermes table. Most of the campers had already vacated, leaving only a few lingering stragglers. Luke sat alone, a half-eaten plate of food pushed to the side.

His gaze flicked up as you approached. “Ugh. What do you want?” he asks, voice coated with venom.

“Wow, you really are a sweetheart” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “We need to talk”

“What about?” he asked with indifference.

“You know damn well what about” you declared. “Or do you want me to say it, here, how you basically came all over your pan-,?”

“Don´t” he jumped out of his seat, voice dangerously angry and threatening. He looked around, secretly wishing no one around heard you. “Fine. Meet me at the back of my cabin at midnight. I´ll be there”

“Good” you stammered, walking away before anyone else could hear you or see you standing in front of Luke Castellan, talking, for more than five minutes.

The thin wind hit your bare face as you approached Cabin Eleven. The glow from the windows had long been extinguished, replaced by a deep silence that accentuated the nervous pounding in your chest. It was past curfew, a risk you wouldn't normally take, but the need to talk to Luke outweighed the consequences. After all, most campers managed to sneak out for a forbidden rendezvous, why wouldn't you be able to manage a few cabins?

Hugging the shadows, you crept past the silent cabins, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Reaching Cabin Eleven, you tiptoed towards the back of it, the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath your sneakers a sound far too loud in the stillness of the night.

There, leaning against the wall, stood Luke. His arms were crossed over his chest, head down and apparently, lost in thought as he waited for you. Despite the outward facade of coolness he always emerged –or so he tried—, you swore you could detect a flicker of nervousness beneath the surface, a tremor in his gaze that mirrored your own churning emotions.

"Hey" you greeted him softly.

He pushed himself off the wall, arms still crossed over his chest. "Hey. About time."

You rolled your eyes. “I am on time, dumbass”

For a moment, he seemed to be struggling internally, debating the appropriate course of action. Should he maintain his usual bravado, the cocky smirk you hated so much? Or should he shed that facade, acknowledge the vulnerability of the situation, and let it go?

"How's that shoulder?" he finally asked, gesturing towards your shoulder with his chin.

"Good as new" you replied, unconsciously shrugging your shoulder to prove your point. "How's your leg?" you asked, returning the question.

"Fully healed" he mumbled, looking down at his thigh.

The small talk felt forced, the words hanging awkwardly between you. You both knew why you were there, but the silence seemed to scream louder than any accusation. Finally, Luke cleared his throat, breaking the uncomfortable tension.

"Wanna come in?" Luke finally asked, surprising you.

You blinked, unsure if you heard him correctly. "In?" you repeated.

He nodded, his gaze flicking nervously around the clearing. "It's safer than… well, you know, someone seeing us" he muttered, trailing off. The implication was clear – safer than being caught outside after curfew, safer than prying eyes and whispers.

You considered it for a moment. It made sense. This conversation needed privacy, and venturing deeper into the night, risking further trouble, didn't seem wise.

With a silent nod, you gestured for him to lead the way. You walked towards the front door, slipping inside the cabin in your tippy toes, Luke closed the door softly behind you, plunging the room into near darkness. The silence was thick, and loud. The stage was set for a conversation that could change everything.

"Okay, shoot" Luke finally said, his voice gruff.

"What?" you replied, thrown off guard by his brusqueness.

"What do you mean 'what'?" he countered, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "You wanted to talk. So do it. Speak."

His words felt almost like a demand, and irritation sparked within you. The confident, charming facade seemed to have crumbled, leaving him exposed – unsure and flustered. While your battle-hardened self might have found humor in his discomfort, just like it did when he basically walked in on you half-naked, right now, it just felt frustrating.

"Don't you have anything to say either?" you challenged. "Am I the only one who wants to talk about what we did?" It was hard to believe that the usually eloquent Luke Castellan, the golden boy, was now speechless.

Luke ran a hand through his hair, his face etched with frustration. "Well..." he began, sinking down onto his bed. He hesitated for a long moment, searching for the right words. "It was definitely... something" he finally came out with, his voice barely a whisper.

Gods, was he really this bad at expressing himself? A groan escaped your lips, and you buried your face in your hands in exasperation. "This was a fucking mistake, gods" you muttered, your voice muffled. "Forget I even came here, Castellan." You spun on your heel, heading towards the door, the need to escape this awkward conversation overwhelming.

Your hand reached for the doorknob, ready to walk out and face the consequences of curfew later, rather than deal with this frustrating silence. But before you could turn the handle, a warm hand clamped onto your wrist.

Luke spun you around, his eyes pleading despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "Don't go” he groaned, clearly frustrated with himself. "It's just – you can't expect me to speak normally to you when that isn't the relationship we have, you know?"

He was right. Your rivalry, for better or worse, defined your dynamic. What you did, that heated and uncontrollable moment that was one of the best sexual experiences that you ever had, had shattered the status quo, leaving you both scrambling for a new footing.

Your silence dominated you, quite a big difference to the nervous energy that had crackled between you moments ago. Luke's words echoed in the room, leaving you both grappling with the reality of the situation. He walked back to his bed, he knew now, you would stay.

With a defeated sigh, you walked over to his bed and stopped in front of him, hesitant to intrude further on his personal space by sitting next to him. "Luke, do you regret it?" you finally asked.

He ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous gesture that mirrored your own churning anxieties. "I don't know" he mumbled, his gaze dropping to his lap. A beat of silence followed, then he said, almost defensively, "But I can't deny that I... I liked it" he blurted out, almost comically frustrated.

"It's just that I never thought I would do something like that with you” he continued, his voice dropping back to a hushed tone. "Do you regret it?"

You shrugged your shoulders, still grappling with your own tangled emotions. “I mean… When it was happening," you started, searching for the right words, "I enjoyed it. But right now, with all the aftermath, I don't think I feel 'proud' of it exactly."

"You're not answering my question, yn." he said, a touch of annoyance creeping back into his voice.

"I don't know if I regret it, Luke, okay?" you admitted, frustration tinging your voice. "It's just… confusing."

The silence returned, this time heavier than before. The playful banter had faded, replaced by a deeper, more complex silence that spoke volumes about the uncharted territory you both found yourselves in. You decided to push the conversation further.

"Is this going to change things now?" you asked, your voice laced with a hint of apprehension.

Luke let out a loud, almost bitter laugh. "Why do you care? You hate me anyway" he said, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "This is the perfect excuse to not talk to me ever again."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Hate you? I don't hate you" you declared, taken aback by his accusation. "I wouldn't be here if I hated you."

"Don't like me then?" he countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, not exactly" you mumbled, cheeks flushing a warm heat. "But don't say I hate you. That's not true."

There was a surprised silence from Luke. Maybe he hadn't expected that answer. "Then what is it?" he finally asked, his voice raising up a little, laced with a hint of curiosity.

Frustration bubbled up inside you. "You!" you blurted out, pointing at him. "It's you, it’s you because we never get to have a regular conversation without arguing, because you started this whole picking on me things and it’s been like this ever since we were fourteen, Luke! And I know you and I are pretty good at ignoring each other, but this…" you gestured vaguely between the two of you, "this isn't something we can just sweep under the rug. It's not something we can just pretend never happened.”

"Then what do we do with it?" he continued, his voice trembling slightly in anger "I told you I liked it" Luke repeated, his voice tinged with annoyance. "What else do you want me to say!?"

"It's not what I want you to say!" you yelled back, your voice rising in volume. "It's what I want you to do!"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "And what is exactly that!?"

The words tumbled out before you could think, a desperate plea fueled by confusion and a strange sense of longing.

"Fucking kiss me!"

The words echoed in the cramped silence of the cabin, and a blush flooded your cheeks as soon as they left your lips. You hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the tension, the confusion, the simmering emotions within you – it all came spilling out in a torrent of honesty.

Luke stared at you, his eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, you thought you might have crossed a line, shattered the fragile truce that had formed between you.

He rose from the bed with a slow, predatory grace. You were standing so close that when he stood to his full height, you were chest-to-chest with him. His dark eyes locked with yours, and you felt small.

"So that's it?" he continued, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "That's why you're so worked up? You just want me to kiss you?"

His words, though seemingly lighthearted, stung. Was that all it was to you? A fleeting desire, a moment of impulsive rebellion? The anger you'd felt earlier flared anew, threatening to consume you.

"Is that all you think this is about, Castellan?" you spat, your voice shaking slightly. "Just some physical need?"

"That´s not what I meant" he drawled, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I know that if what happened left you with a physical need, you could go to anyone else. But you came to me, didn´t you?”

You wanted to punch him, to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. But a strange sense of honesty held you back. He was right, again. The truth was, a part of you didn’t crave just a taste of his lips, but something else, like an unexpected connection that went further more than physical. You didn’t know where it came from, or when, or why, you just felt it and thinking about it just felt right.

With a shaky breath, you tilted your head up, a silent answer to his question. Your lips brushed against his, breaths twirling together once again. He didn't hesitate or hold back this time. A low groan escaped his lips as he leaned down, his hands finding their way to your waist. His touch sent a jolt of electricity sparking through you, making your knees weak.

And the he kissed you.

It started slow, tender, almost reverent. He explored your lips with a newfound gentleness, as if savoring the feel of them against his. It spoke of exploration, of a tentative truce blossoming into something more. You wanted to feel him, to erase the line that had always separated you.

But then, as if a dam had broken, the kiss deepened. The tenderness melted away, replaced by a desperate urgency. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the soft contours of your cheeks. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling him impossibly closer to your body. The kiss became a whirlwind of emotions – confusion, desire, the thrill of the forbidden.

You noticed the way his breath started to hitch. How whenever he had to fill his lungs with air, he would make sure it was just the necessary amount to kiss you back again. He didn’t want to forget the taste of your lips.

His kisses then started to start a slow, agonizing pace towards your neck. Right under your ear, over your pulse, on dip your collarbone; every hot kiss he placed only made your body unconsciously stick closer to his, head logging back in pleasure as your breaths became hitched too, turned into small gasps and little moans, all caused by the boy that got you on your nerves.

“Y-you haven’t answered my question” you suddenly said.

Luke was too concentrated on attacking your neck to even care looking at your face, but he still answered. “What question?”

“If you’re a virgin”

He could’ve stop right there, he could be mad at you for being so insistent, he could just go and leave you there, hot and bothered with your swollen lips and red neck attacked by his own lips, but he stayed. He stayed while his forehead rested against yours, catching his breath while his broad shoulders went up and down. His own skin was already sprayed with a thin layer of sweat, glistening by the only little peak of a curtain that didn’t fully covered the outside light.

“I’m not” he declared, hands dripping down to your hips. “But I’m not as experienced as you may think”

You nodded slightly. “And, do you-, would you like to experience a little more?” you asked.

See, you had a little problem. You didn’t realize how dangerous words could be, or how it could affect the other person until those words came out of your mouth, and you felt so stupid afterwards. So stupid you wanted to snap your fingers and let the ground swallow you whole and spit you right at the center of the Tartarus.

Luke chuckled. “Are you seriously asking me to fuck you?”. He asked it so casually, so calmly, that if only he had asked you with the tiniest bit of flirt, of teasing, you would’ve handled it easier.

Your blood rushed to your cheeks. “Honestly, I don’t know why you’re still so surprised” you try to laugh it off “Look what we’re doing”

“You’re right” he nods. “Yes. I would like to know what it is like to do what we did. No clothes this time”

He didn’t even let you think of an answer. His lips placed over yours again, but only for a brief moment before he started trailing down your throat. His curls tickled your chin, and his nose bumped constantly against the places he kissed. The tiny touch of the tip of his tongue with every kiss left behind a wet trail of saliva that started to go down, down, and down.

Even though he requested no clothes, your t-shirt didn’t seem to bother him at all. He pressed your lower body closer to his when he kissed your sternum. You didn’t know if it was because he genuinely knew how to make a girl feel good, or because it was simply him, but even over the fabric, his lips felt like fire against your skin, and you felt the goosebumps covering your arms.

Maybe it was both things.

He kept kissing until he sat down on his bed again. Your hands crept up his neck, just to have somewhere to hold, you needed to touch him. His neck, his hair, his back, everything.

His hands pushed up your t-shirt and as soon as he had the tiniest bit of skin visible, he attacked it. Just kisses everywhere. His lips were hot and wet, something that only added you both a immense pleasure. You hissed when his teeth took a slight grip of your hipbone, but the slight burning feeling it left behind made you release a stupid sound from your lips, a soft, small and broken whimper.

“Sorry” he said. He looked angelical like that; lips glistening, brown eyes looking up at yours, chin resting on your tummy. You could stay like this forever. “It’s just, you’re-” his fingers buried themselves at your sides. “You’re unreal”

You smirked. You knew this vulnerable and submissive state Luke was at would only last a second, but knowing that you were the one he would float up his surface for, how it made you feel, it was powerful. But you didn’t wanna be, you wanted him to crave you. You’ve been playing this game for way too long, it was time for Luke Castellan to prove what he could do.

You placed your hands over his, feeling your own small and delicate compared to his veiny and big ones. You pulled his calloused palms up your torso, the fabric of your t-shirt tangling in his fingers. He caught the message real quick, pulling your t-shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor carelessly.

He looked momentarily stunned, with parted lips and all. He felt dumb too. This was his second time seeing you like this —except that when he did for the first time, you weren’t wearing shorts—, but something about it was different now. A hundred explanations rushed his brain a second; the lighting, the shorts, the color of your underwear, your hair. Maybe even the fact that you looked so close, but so unreachable.

You didn’t let him stare for too long, forearms crossing over his shoulders as you, once again, sat over his thighs. You didn’t have to lead him into anything this time, he pulled you by the waist even before you finished sitting on him.

He hissed when you rolled your hips once, hands flying to your sides to stop you. “Don’t do that” he said in a low tone. He knew you were just teasing him, but he really didn’t want to deal with you right now, not in that way.

You stopped, it was hard not to when he applied so much force on you that his biceps flexed and his veins popped out. And that reminded you the lack of your clothes, and the excessive amount of his.

His white t-shirt was long forgotten after if joined your own on the floor. He leaned back, hands resting over the mattress as your hand trailed down his torso; a bumpy ride down his body that was strangely appealing to your eyes. You hadn’t seen Luke shirtless before, and that reminded you, why hadn’t you seen Luke shirtless before?

The man was hot.

He seemed to enjoy the way your eyes roamed down his body way too much, also how you suddenly held your breath. He might’ve kept it a secret, but he saw and noticed everything. His hand reached out to cup your breast. “Pretty” he whispered, knuckles caressing the lacy fabric that covered you. He didn’t have to be a genius to realize how that instantly made your skin shiver, most specifically your back, that arched towards his feather-like touch.

He pushed himself up, lowering his head towards your chest. He took your bra in his teeth, pulling the fabric aside just enough for his tongue to lick over your nipple. You moaned, the sudden feeling taking you by surprise. He didn’t want to behave this softly, so tender, so stupidly careful. He needed more.

He repeated his action with your other breast, a tight and strangled moan escaping from your throat. He groaned lowly at your own sounds, discovering a new way of basically communicating with you; if you liked it, he liked it.

His arms wrapped around you with ease, lifting you up just enough for him to place you ever his bed, his body covering yours as his hands placed along your sides. His pulled your thighs apart with one knee, then pressing it against your core.

“Ah, Luke” you moaned out, eyes shutting at the feeling, too good to let it pass.

“Shit, baby” he cooed. His eyes scanned your body under his, the way it rolled so delicious and delicately as you tried your best to push yourself further into his knee, desperate for some friction. “Can I go down on you?” he blurted out.

You opened your eyes, leaning into your elbows on the bed, eyes piercing his. “You want to?” you ask.

“If I’m fucking you, I’m doing it right”

And your shorts disappeared in a second. He moved your panties aside with a hook of his fingers, and suddenly a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

He was seeing you vulnerably and literally open to him now. You felt too self conscious. You were screwed. Your arousal left a wet patch on the inside of your panties; what a sight for eyes like Luke’s. You felt his thumbs slowly pulling your lips apart. He was taking his oh so sweet time with it, and you didn’t know if you loved it or hated it.

You let out a surprise moan when his tongue laid flat against your cunt. He moaned against it instantly, the vibration sending a different type of pleasure. His big arms wrapped over your thighs, providing you of any movement except for the ones he wanted you to do. He ate you out like a starved man; and yes, it sounds cliche, but you never experienced something like this before.

He was so slow with it, yet so deep. He wouldn’t let any drop coming out of you go to waste, he wanted it all. He sucked on your clit, hard, but quickly let go to continue his task on your hole again, tongue slipping in and out. The only time he took a break, was to slightly lift his head up and spit down at you. It was already wet enough, but the cold saliva, falling directly to your clit, only made you want more.

You grabbed his head with both hands, pushing him down against you, and he didn’t complain a bit, mouth instantly opening again to let his tongue dance around you.

“Yes, yes, yes” you moaned, chest heaving up and down. The sounds that came out of Luke’s mouth against your pussy were disgusting; wet and dirty, and you would’ve never guessed you actually liked it better this way. He actually acted like he needed you, and you noticed, because you saw the tiny bit movements he made with his hips against the sheets. “Gods, Luke, don’t stop”

Maybe this was not the perfect time to praise any of the gods above, but you couldn’t help it, you didn’t even know what words came out of your mouth, none really, just little sounds that escaped from your lips like oil, slipping down unconsciously.

Luke felt too good, better than you had expected. Not experienced as you might think? You could easily believe he lied to your face.

The moment he pulled away one of his fingers slipped in between your folds. His fingertip grazed over your sensitive bud, making your body jolt once. You heard him breath out a laugh.

Then he pulled in, slowly, and a second finger joined easily. You grabbed the sheets by your sides, arching your back and letting a moan of relief out. You felt him lean his cheek on your inner thigh. “If you’re this tight on my fingers, can’t imagine what you will feel like when I fuck you”

He could simply cum in his pants again just by the sight of you; legs spread open around his head, his fingers pushing inside you at a perfect pace, your pussy glistening with his saliva. Your moans sounded pornographic, almost too good to be true. He managed to not do it though, he managed to focus on you and only you, on the way your hips rolled, on what made you squirm the most, what made you whine louder.

His fingers scissored inside you. Your moan was guttural when he eventually started to move faster, his wrist started to quickly feel tired, but how could he give up so easily on you?

Your eyes rolled back. He just treated you so good. He knew just when to curl his fingers, stuff them deeper inside you, or just removing them from inside your pussy to focus on your clit, softly drawing circles over it. He knew how torturous it was, almost as torturous as that night, in the motel, in which you couldn’t stop moving over him; wouldn’t stop. He deeply wanted you to stop, but not because he didn’t like it, but because he wanted more, and right now, you wanted more, and he was well aware of it.

“Fuck me already, Luke”

“What’s that?” he asks, head tilting, a cocky smirk on his face. His fingers were still moving around your clit.

You managed to focus your eyes on him, fire illuminating your eyes. He looked so fucking perfect. Shirtless, a thin layer of sweat over his muscles, his camp necklace softly hanging over his collarbone, his fingers covered in your wetness.

“Fuck me, please” you whined, too desperate for your own liking.

He stopped touching you and crawled over you again, his camp necklace dangling over your face. His hand squeezed your cheeks before he stamped his lips on you once again. He swallowed your moan when you tasted yourself on his lips. “So fucking needy, huh? Fuck, look at you” his eyes roamed down your body like a hunter stalks his prey. “All ready for me”

He praised you as if you were a goddess, which was not far from true but, he was not scared to admit how much he would worship you if he had the chance.

You reached out for his sweatpants, pulling them down below his ass before taking his cock in your hand. He squeezed his lips and groaned, eyes flitting shut at the feeling of your hand stroking him over his boxer. Even over the fabric, you felt how warm it was, how hard he had gotten. “I can tell you’re ready too, big boy” you teased.

He didn’t really know where his sweatpants fell, taking them fully out along with his underwear and throwing it somewhere in the darkness of the room. His dick smacked on his stomach, and you lifted your head to peak just a little.

And yes, as you expected, he was big. Not monstrously big but, fair enough to feel a little bit scared of whether is it gonna hurt or not. His tip was so red, you highly doubted he would last long enough before cumming.

“Shit, wait” he said, looking around, brows suddenly frowning in worry. “I don’t have a condom”

You laughed. “So?” you asked. His worried expression was replaced by a confused one. “I don’t mind”

“You don’t?” he blurted out.

“Just pull out. It’ll be fine” you assured with a warm smile. He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of worry still pang in his insides. “Hey” you called out, sitting straight and placing one hand behind his neck. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay. You don’t have to be scared. If you don’t like it, we can stop, okay?” you whispered.

It seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he only limited himself to nod, letting the invisible weight of his shoulders fall off. You pulled him towards you, mouth quickly letting his tongue in as you fell onto the mattress again.

One of his hands started to trace delicate figures on your waist, stopping at your ribs to squeeze tightly as he lets the tip of his cock brush against you. He strangled a moan before aligning himself and you lift your hips slightly. His own hips start to move forward, slow. You gasp at the stretching, stealing Luke’s last breath before he let his forehead collapse on the crook of your neck.

You squeezed him fully, tighter every time another inch entered inside you. When you felt the base of his cock against you, he moaned out against your skin once, then his shoulders started to go up and down as he breathed heavily. “How do you feel this good when I haven’t even started yet?” he asked, more to himself that to you.

You tugged on his curls, forcing him to get away from your neck and look into your eyes. “And what’s taking you so long?” you whisper.

He took his bottom lip in between his teeth as he began to pull out just as slow as he had pushed in. He only let the tip of his cock in before moving forward again. You hugged him, his muscles clenching at the touch of your fingertips on his shoulder blades. He started agonizingly slow, but it felt so good. It was so intimate, not only because of the fact that your legs tangled on his lower back and you pulled him in with your heel, but because suddenly, a warm embrace hugged you both. The sudden feeling of hugging him tighter when he started to move faster, and his need to let his fingers mark over your thighs, tightly gripping on the flesh when you moaned into his ear, something about the lines of going faster and how good it felt. He doesn’t remember.

He wanted to keep you like this forever, your legs thrown around his waist, your pussy sucking him in every time he pulled out, your moan and whimpers in his ear, your hands touching him everywhere. Your hands felt so good, so smooth over his rough skin, over his scars. He wanted to kiss them, every single knuckle, massage them, hold them forever. He wanted to keep you forever. Your embrace, your laugh, your voice, your feelings. He wanted you to open yourself to him, to feel safe around his arms, to know that he would always be there, no matter what you need him for.

“You’re greedy, baby. Aren’t you?” he teased in your ear. He whispered so low that your back arched at the sound. “Yeah, like that. Just sucking me right back in, huh?”

You felt speechless. You were. Also, it was hard to speak when he was pounding into you like an animal, grunts and moans filling the room despite the soaked slapping of skin to skin. He tugged at your hair, pulling down and forcing yourself to push your head back further into his pillow. His tongue flattened against the base of your neck, licking all the way up to the back of your ear. Even though you didn’t see him, you felt him smirk. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this for. Wanted to fuck you ever since you wore that fucking dress to the fireworks”

Oh, the dress.

Fourth of July at camp. Well, it got lots of compliments. How pretty it looked on you, how it showed off your curves, how the color fitted you nicely, how you managed to find the perfect shoes to combine them with. And yes, you had noticed that Luke’s stare towards you was intense. He was staring, jaw clenched and his stupid face towards your directions at all times, head following you wherever you went. But you would’ve never guess that a simple white dress, was gonna start it all for him and the painful ache in his cargo pants.

If you knew, you would’ve wore it before. And more frequently.

“Luke” you moaned out when he particularly pushed too deep inside you.

“Say it. Say my name again” he demanded, hand squeezing in between your bodies to touch your clit again, smacking it with two fingers, stealing a high pitched whimper from your lips. He started his expert circles around it again. You tried your best to do as he said, but the pounding of his cock inside you, the skin slapping and the sensitive touch of his fingertips over you was driving you crazy.

You finally managed to call his name, over and over again, like a prayer. He felt too good when you did so, slamming harder against your body when his hand movement became sloppy, stopping momentarily only to start again.

In a swift, blurry motion, he placed both hands on the mattress on the side of your head, pulling himself up and his cock out of you. You covered your face to muffle your screams when he started to rub himself on your clit. The tip of his cock hurt against you, rubbing over you again and again and again. It was fast, not giving you enough time to recover before his red tip caressed over your clit again.

This felt much better than any other feeling you felt with him, maybe even replaced by the feeling of his cock stretching you out. But this, something you never tried before, made your walls clench around nothing and your clit scream in agony, the warm feeling in your belly only growing more and more with each thrust of his hips.

His movements stopped as abruptly as his moans. You only heard him release a held back moan when he let his hips thrust once more, and you felt his warm load fall over your stomach just at the same time that you came. It reached so high up that you immediately felt out of breath, chest heaving up and down as Luke cursed under his breath, and his cum kept dripping down over you.

He would’ve collapsed over your body, but he didn’t wanna get you all dirty. It was a dumb though, considering the fact that you were sweaty, hair messy, lips parted as you cursed too, and a very slight signal of tears in your eyes. You were destroyed, and he was too.

“Wait here” he pointed at you with one finger, carefully climbing down his bed and putting on his boxers, disappearing in the darkness. He later came back with paper towels, taking the first one and folding it, cleaning the parts of your body that were left behind with him on it.

He cleaned himself after, hissing at the sensitivity, before throwing the dirty wipes to a small bin. He hopped on the bed again, arm throwing around your waist as he pulled you closer. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

He kissed your forehead, your nose, your lips, your collarbone, leaving behind his mark on you. He placed two or three kisses on your shoulder as his hand circled your lower back, before playfully biting on it.

“Stop” you pushed him on the chest. “You’ll get me all marked up”

“What if I wanted to?” he asked, head falling down on the pillow. His eyes twinkled when he looked at yours. “Would you let me?”

“Depends. Will we still pretend we don’t like each other?”

He snorted. “Who said I like you now?”

“Ha-ha” you panted, staying silent for a moment. Your finger traced his features, so harsh yet so delicate. His jawline, his nose, his cheeks. His scar. You let your thumb softly touch it, Luke’s eyes closing as you do, sighting at your warm touch. You knew how much he hated it, how much he wanted people to avoid looking at it, how embarrassed he felt about it. You never truly understood why. Yes, he failed his quest but, it gave him such a different type of look. Brave, warrior-looking, fearless, hot. “I like it” you whispered.

“Don’t lie to me” his voice changed, a sudden dark, sad tone.

“No, I mean it” you blinked fast, concerned at his mood change. “It makes you… pretty”

He would’ve expected any word, any. Badass, tough, bad boy-looking. But pretty? He wasn’t prepared for it. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks, shiny dark eyes piercing yours.

“And a pain in the ass, sure”

He let out a laugh, you joined him. It was a soft symphony that momentarily filled the room with wholesome energy. “So what now?” he asked. “What are we?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know” your fingers played with the little wooden pendants of his necklace. “We don’t need to know it now, though”

“But I don’t wanna pretend I don’t like you either” he explained. “ ‘Cause this is actually kind of fun”

“Kind of?” you asked, tilting your head. Luke rolled his eyes.

“Okay, it’s the best sex I’ve had so far” he admitted.

“Thaaank you” you replied. He laughed again, less this time, but still managed to crack a smile. He didn’t know he could smile this much with you. “And, you don’t have to worry about pretending. We don’t have to”

“No?”

“No” you shook your head. “Let it be. Let ‘em think what they want. We were sent on a quest, something happened and now, we’re friends”

His signature grin marked on his face. “Friends?” he asks.

You gulp, visibly flustered now. And yes, friends. Friends who lay in bed naked, friends who fuck, friends who kiss, friends who dirty talk to each other, friends who break curfew to find themselves making out in the most remote places at camp, friends who stare, friends who care. So, yes; “Friends” you assure.

[angelltheninth]

The Greek Gods Try To Win Your Heart

Pairing: Apollo, Aphrodite, Ares, Hades, Hermes, Poseidon, Zeus x Reader

Tags: fluff, slight power dynamics, flirting, kissing, gift giving, protectiveness, letters, human!Reader

A/N: Seeing as I'm still in Greece as of writing this and EPIC the Musical made fall in love with the Gods I'm writing this.

Apollo serenades you at the start of every sunset. For him it's important that his belobed starts the day right and he more than happy to help. Somehow he never runs out of sappy verse to whisper in your ear as he leaves, giving you words to replay in your sleep.

Aphrodite visits you every free moment she has. She is affectionate in every way possible. In her words, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, in her touch with which she is able to make your whole body tingle and want more, in her actions with which she displays affection for you in grand guestures because you're her beloved human and all other Gods should know it.

Ares doesn't know much about gentle touch but he is willing to let you teach him. Eager to tell you of his many victories but also provide you with lessons so that no one can put you in danger, not that anyone would dare with him watching. Protectiveness is also part of his nature to the point of being perfectly willing to be cruel in order to protect you from others.

Hades showers you with many gifts over the time he spends trying to win your heart. Makes sure you're always thinking of him while you're apart and he wants have something of yours too, each of you would have one piece of each other with you. Sends his kisses from afar until you're in his home and he can kiss you for real.

Hermes runs everywhere all the time but he always makes time for you, it doesn't matter what message he needs to deliver. There's always something intersting for him to tell you when he comes back from his travels but he also likes using the excuse of sending a message to see you. Not unnusual for you to see a love letter randomly appear in your room, right next to your bed.

Poseidon takes you to many islands for a vecation with him, a romantic getaway if you will for you two to get to know each other better. He loves to go on a midnight swim with you under the stars and give you lots of gifts from the sea, things to decorate yourself and your home with.

Zeus brags a lot about himself when he's with you, he's a big showoff but he also wants to lift you up. If you want to be his lover you have to be worthy of him, the King of the Gods. He is very loving when you start returning his feelings, he wants to be a good lover, which also means he can hardly keep his hands to himself when you're alone.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[greenconverses]

As I've mentioned a few times times, one of the actual interesting things Riordan is doing in this new series is mentioning Percy's obvious rage issues and then not actually doing anything with it other than making Percy swallow the anger down so he stays Nice and Controlled at all times.

Which, if we were dealing with pre-Disney+ show deal RR, could be a great character arc over the course of the series where Percy learns to actually deal with his anger and trauma while he's actively being triggered by petty godly bullshit. But Wrath made it pretty clear he's okay with letting Percy eat shit emotionally as long as everyone is one big happy team in the end and we're Therapy Speaking ourselves into the sunset, so I don't think that's happening.

Wrath sets up a conflict between Grover and Percy that's pretty simple: Grover eats a magical thing he's specifically told not eat and causes chaos that puts Percy's quest at risk. Reminder, these stupid quests are so Percy can get into college and Grover knows this. Percy gets angry at Grover; so angry Annabeth can see it and shoos him out of the room so he doesn't explode. And then he just... tries to stop being angry, assumes Grover means well, and carries on pretending it's not Grover's fault while being resentful because it's totally Grover's fucking fault.

Eventually, we get a scene where Grover attempts to make things right by putting himself into danger and Percy freaks out because, duh, he doesn't want his friends to get hurt. Grover then attempts to apologize by admitting he maybe sorta kinda subconsciously wanted to sabotage things. And it's here where we run in to trouble.

Please notice that Percy immediately tries to reassure him that he's not responsible despite Grover acknowledging it. Then we get the good ol' Grover tears and looking like a poor bullied baby before he confesses to sabotaging his best friend's quest because he doesn't want to be left behind. And with that, all of Percy's anger is gone because how can you be mad at your friend for that?

Uh, pretty fucking easy, especially if my idiot satyr friend knows exactly what the consequences of failing the quest is (forget the college letters; Percy is under the assumption that Hecate will unmake him if he fucks up) AND said idiot frequently has gone MONTHS without seeing me because of his job and, in fact, several months from now will be halfway across the country anyway helping Apollo with some different quest bullshit!!!!

I digress.

Suddenly, Percy is the bad guy for being mad at Grover. And this continues with the next part of the conversation.

How hard it's been on him?????

Percy Jackson, you are constantly blowing literal gaskets because of the stress you are under, and you're worried about how hard college applications has been on GROVER???????

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have been thinking about how you felt rather than stressing about getting into college."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have been thinking about how you felt rather than stressing about getting into college."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have been thinking about how you felt rather than stressing about getting into college."

like

are you kidding me here rick

are you FUCKING kidding me

PERCY needs to APOLOGIZE to GROVER for PRIORITIZING COLLEGE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

And then Grover makes a joke about Percy's shitty gpa because dunking on Percy in an emotional conversation is totally fine because his emotions don't actually matter to any of his friends. He'll get over it! He's Percy, duh. He's not a ticking time bomb of resentment full of grudges whatsoever.

I think we're supposed to see this as Percy maturing and being forgiving, but is he? He doesn't tell Grover he forgives him. Percy's the one apologizing in the end because he's been guilted into feeling bad that Grover is sad/upset and put himself in danger. The conflict doesn't actually get resolved because Percy brushes it aside; it doesn't matter any more because Grover is sad and must be reassured. No one's going to learn anything from this because there have been no consequences. Grover's gonna do some dumb shit again, Percy's gonna get mad at him, Grover will cry and make up a sad sack excuse, and Percy will stop being angry because Grover's his bestie and what else is he supposed to do?

(This could be a good character arc about how Percy's fatal flaw makes him have a really messed up view of friendships and the meaning of loyalty, but again, we will be denied.)

And for the record, just because your friends have compelling reasons for their shitty actions doesn't make them any less shitty. It doesn't mean they shouldn't apologize for their fuck ups or negate the hurt they caused you. Forgiveness needs to be earned, not manipulated out of you through tears and reckless actions.

Grover can get fucked. I hate this fucking character.

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: The Prophet and His Muse Pairing: greek god!woozi x reincarnated lover!fem!reader Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smut, romance, fantasy, soulmate au, reincarnation au, deity au Wordcount: 11k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: In a world where ancient myths whisper through the fabric of modern life, a poignant tale of love and redemption unfolds. A god reunited with his eternal love. As this ancient bond stirs to life, he must navigate the delicate interplay between myth and reality—striving to rekindle a romance that defies time and embraces destiny’s call.

Warnings: angst, character death, reincarnation, fluffy smut, slight exhibitionism, reader is afab, mentions of food, mentions of wanting kids

A/N: so happy to finally post this fic for @beomcoups's and @wooahaeproductions' collab - see the Thirteen Gods of Olympus masterlist here!

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

Join my taglist // Masterlists

Prologue: Golden Shadows

You sit on the edge of the bed, the cool linens draped around your naked frame, watching as Apollo’s fingers dance delicately over the strings of his golden lyre. The soft, melodic notes fill the room, mingling with the last rays of the setting sun that bathe everything in a warm, golden glow. The heat from the day still clings to the air, wrapping the room in an intimate cocoon.

Rising slowly, you let the linens slide around you like a silken robe as you step toward him. Your voice, barely above a whisper, drifts through the melody. "Won’t you come back to bed?"

Apollo’s eyes meet yours, a tender smile playing on his lips. Some of his golden locks fall over his forehead, and you reach out to brush them back with your fingers. Your hand lingers on his cheek, and Apollo leans into your touch. He sets the lyre aside, the music hanging in the air like a fragrant memory. Rising gracefully, he takes your hand and places it on his bare chest. You let your hand travel up his warm skin before wrapping your arms around his neck. His forehead rests against yours, and he closes his eyes as if to savor the moment.

"Please?" you repeat softly. "I don’t get much time with you."

Without a word, Apollo scoops you into his arms, lifting you as though you weigh nothing. You feel the strength and warmth of his embrace, your heart quickening in response. He carries you to the bed, laying you down with a reverence that speaks of a love transcending time. Apollo settles beside you, easing past the linens covering your figure to press his bare skin against yours.

You move together in perfect harmony, your love a silent conversation. The golden light of the sunset wraps around you, turning your world into a haven of softness and desire. As the sun dips below the horizon, you are lost in each other, your bodies entwined, your souls connecting.

"You're enchanting, my flower," he whispers, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck. "In your presence, the loveliest hymns dance through my mind."

He leans over you, his gaze deep and unwavering as he looks into your eyes. With one hand, he reaches out to touch your cheek, his warm palm caressing your soft skin with a silken touch. "I don’t mean to take my attention off of you."

"I suppose I can allow it," you answer playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. "Only if you promise to stay with me now and until morning."

Instead of answering, he draws closer, his breath mingling with yours. His lips meet yours in a kiss that begins gently, a tender brush that sends shivers down your spine. As the kiss deepens, his other hand finds its way to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. His kiss grows more passionate, his lips moving with a soft urgency, tasting and exploring. Your hearts beat in unison, each throb echoing the intensity of the moment. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a timeless embrace, lost in the rapture of a kiss that promises forever.

"I am consumed by you, my love," he whispers as he pulls away from the kiss, trying to catch his breath. His eyes, dark with desire, bore into yours, searching for the same fire he feels burning within himself.

You cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "And I by you," you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion. "Every moment with you feels like a beautiful dream I never want to wake from."

He smiles, a soft, tender smile that makes your heart flutter. "Then let’s never wake," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let’s stay in this dream, where time stands still and nothing else matters but us."

You nod, pulling him closer once more. As your lips meet again, the world outside ceases to exist. The night wraps around you like a velvet cloak, and in that moment, all that matters is the love you share, burning brightly in the dark.

When at last you lie spent, the stars begin to twinkle like diamonds in the velvet night sky. Apollo brushes a tender kiss against your forehead. "I promise to stay with you until morning," he murmurs, his voice a soothing lullaby that melts into the silence of the night.

You nestle closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, your heart brimming with contentment and love. His scent envelops you, a blend of earth and spice, grounding you in the moment. The world outside ceases to exist. It is just the two of you, cocooned in a timeless embrace, held together by a love as eternal and unchanging as the stars above.

His fingers trace lazy circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Every touch, every whispered word, binds you closer. The night air is cool against your heated skin, a contrast that heightens your senses, making you acutely aware of every breath, every heartbeat.

You look up at him, his eyes reflecting the starlight, filled with a promise that transcends words. He smiles, and it feels like the universe unfolding just for you. The night cradles you both gently, a sanctuary where time stands still, and you drift into dreams knowing you are cherished beyond measure.

Chapter 1: Echoes of a Memory

Jihoon stirs awake, the rain’s steady tap against the windowpane weaves a mournful lullaby. The room, bathed in the somber gray of the overcast morning, is cloaked in a cold, desolate light that seeps through the curtains, transforming every corner into a silent witness to his solitude. The apartment stands bare, a ghostly echo of the warmth and vibrancy that once defined his life.

“Y/N?” he whispers, his voice hoarse with dreams and yearning. The answer is a void, an echo of silence that wraps around him like a shroud. His hand reaches out to the empty space beside him, feeling the familiar sting of her absence.

With a weary sigh, Jihoon pushes himself up and retrieves his phone from the nightstand. As he unlocks it, a new email notification blinks at him, its presence a tiny spark in the dimness. He opens it, his heart pounding in time with the rain’s steady rhythm:

“Dear Mr. Lee,

Thank you for your generous donation. We would be honored to invite you to visit our institute at your earliest convenience. We are eager to discuss future collaborations...”

He doesn't bother to read the rest. A faint smile touches Jihoon’s lips, a fragile glimmer in his otherwise monochrome world. The prospect of seeing Y/N again breathes a tentative hope into his chest, a whisper of joy amidst the pervasive gloom. He can almost hear your laughter, feel the warmth of your presence.

He sets the phone down, the smile lingering like a delicate shadow, and moves toward the window. Pulling the curtains aside, he gazes out at the relentless rain, its steady fall a poignant reminder of the emptiness he endures. Yet now, amidst the gray, there is a flicker of something more—an ember of hope that dares to illuminate the path ahead.

He will visit the music institute. He will see her again. And in that fragile hope, there lies the possibility that she may indeed be you.

Jihoon walks through the entrance of the local university’s music institute, the air buzzing with a mix of creativity and academia. He’s even gone so far as to dress up for the occasion—skipping his usual black ensemble of oversized shirts, shorts, and slippers, for a more sophisticated button-down and trousers. Students hurry past with instruments and sheet music, their conversations a background symphony of youthful energy. Some of them give him a double look, whispering amongst themselves. He can feel their music, rhythmically beating as they go about their day. For a moment, he lets go of the barrier he builds up between himself and others, allowing the melodies of their futures to play through his mind. He’s completely entranced by the feeling that he doesn’t see the person walking towards him. An administrator, a middle-aged woman with an eager smile, greets him warmly.

“Woozi—Mr. Lee, it’s such an honor to have you here,” she says, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “I’ve been a fan of your music for years, we’re so excited to have you. Let me show you around.”

As they walk through the hallways, she points out various rooms—practice spaces, classrooms, and performance halls. Jihoon listens politely, nodding and occasionally asking questions, but his thoughts are elsewhere. He’s eager to see Y/N, the professor he’s heard so much about.

Finally, they reach a spacious room with large windows that let in the afternoon light. Instruments of all kinds line the walls, and students sit in clusters, discussing music theory and composition. Y/N stands by one of the groups, her presence commanding yet kind. The administrator walks over to her, tapping her on her shoulder to get her attention.

“Professor, this is Mr. Lee,” the administrator introduces him with pride.

Y/N turns, and Jihoon feels his breath catch. She looks so just like you—the same grace, the same spark in her eyes. She extends her hand, a warm smile on her lips.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Lee,” she says. “Your support means a lot to us.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Jihoon replies, shaking her hand. He can’t help but stare, his mind awash with memories.

The administrator, sensing the moment, excuses herself. “I’ll leave you two to talk. If you need anything, I’ll be just outside.”

As the door closed behind her, Jihoon chuckled, breaking the ice. “I think she was about to ask for an autograph.”

Y/N laughs a melodic sound that sends a jolt of nostalgia through him. “She probably was. You have quite a fan base here.”

Jihoon smiles, feeling a warmth he hasn’t felt in a long time. “It’s nice to know my music is appreciated. But enough about me—I want to hear about your work here.”

They talk for a while, their conversation flowing effortlessly. Jihoon finds himself captivated by her passion for teaching and her genuine love for music. As they speak, he feels a connection, a sense of familiarity that goes beyond the present moment.

For the first time in decades, Jihoon feels a spark of hope. Perhaps, he’s actually found you again.

Chapter 2: Symphony of the Sun

The garden basks in the golden glow of a summer afternoon, where sunlight spills like liquid amber through the canopy of a grand orange tree. The air, rich with the heady perfume of blooming flowers and sun-warmed citrus, drapes around you like a fragrant embrace.

You and Apollo lounge beneath the tree’s sprawling boughs, its ancient branches casting a protective, dappled shade. The leaves murmur softly in the breeze, their whispers blending with the distant songs of nature, creating a lullaby of tranquility.

Apollo’s eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint as he plucks a plump, sun-kissed orange from a low-hanging branch. He cradles it in his hands, studying its ripe, glossy skin with an almost reverent gaze.

A smile curves on your lips as Apollo’s thumb presses into the fruit; the sharp, tangy aroma of citrus bursts forth, mingling with the garden’s sweet floral symphony. With a flick of his wrist, he begins to peel the orange, and in an unexpected burst of citrus, a stream of golden juice arcs through the air, landing with a soft splash upon your cheek.

You gasp in surprise, your eyes widening before laughter spills from your lips, bright and unrestrained. “Look at what you’ve done!” you exclaim, your voice a melody of delight.

Apollo’s grin widens, his laughter melding with yours in a harmonious duet. “Let me help you,” he offers, leaning in with tender intent. His lips graze your cheek, his tongue softly tracing the path of the sweet juice.

Your laughter subsides into a gentle smile, your heart swelling with a profound, loving warmth. “You always know how to make me laugh,” you murmur, your voice a tender whisper that lingers in the golden light.

Apollo’s gaze holds a deep, unwavering tenderness as he pulls back slightly, his fingers still glistening with remnants of orange juice. “And you always know how to make me happy,” he responds, his eyes reflecting a love that seems to glow from within.

As you share the orange, Apollo feeds you each succulent piece with a playful grace, your laughter spilling freely as more juice dribbles down your chins. The simple joy of the moment, wrapped in the warmth of your shared affection, lifts your hearts in a dance of delight.

With the afternoon sun casting intricate patterns of light through the tree’s leaves, you and Apollo savor the serene beauty of the moment. It becomes a cherished fragment of time, a golden memory to treasure long after the orange trees have shed their fruit and summer’s warmth has faded. In the garden’s tranquil embrace, surrounded by nature’s gentle symphony, you are two souls entwined in a love that feels as eternal as the sun-dappled day itself.

The room is cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from Jihoon’s computer screen. Rain patters against the windows, a somber symphony that matches the turmoil in his heart. Will it ever stop raining? Jihoon sits hunched over his desk, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to contain the overwhelming grief.

Memories of his lover’s death flash through his mind—your final moments, the helplessness he felt, the crushing sense of loss that had never truly left him. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears keep coming, blurring his vision and deepening his despair.

His phone buzzes on the desk, breaking through the haze of his sorrow. It’s a message from his manager, yet another demand for new material for his upcoming album. Jihoon stares at the screen, his frustration bubbling up. He didn’t have the energy to argue, and the constant pressure was becoming unbearable.

With a heavy heart, he types a reply, his fingers trembling. “Fine. I’ll start working on it,” he writes, feeling a hollow resignation as he hits send. Agreeing to his manager’s demands feels like a betrayal of his own emotions, but he has no choice.

He looks out over his apartment. The room still feels cold despite the progress he’s made in unpacking. Boxes now lay open, their contents partially arranged around the room, but there’s an air of impatience and frustration hanging over him.

He looks back at his laptop, a video paused on the screen. It was of Y/N, gracefully playing the harp. It’s the video that got him interested in the university he donated to in the first place. He presses play, and the delicate notes fill the room—transporting him back to a time long ago when he had taught you to play the lyre. The memories are vivid; from the way your fingers would fumble at first, to when you finally found your confidence as you mastered each chord.

Sighing, Jihoon runs a hand through his hair. The thought of his manager’s text appears in his mind again. He only has one song left on the album, but every time he sits down to write his mind goes blank. The writer’s block is suffocating, a relentless weight that grows heavier with each passing day.

The video ends and Jihoon presses replay, watching Y/N’s fingers glide over the strings—her expression serene and focused. A pang of longing shot through him. She’s so different, yet so familiar. He needs to see her, to talk to her—about anything that could reignite his creativity.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Jihoon opens his email and begins to type.

“Dear Professor Y/L/N,

I hope this message finds you well. I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation and the inspiration I felt afterward. Your music and your passion have stayed with me.

I’m struggling with my next album and could use your guidance. Would you be available to meet sometime soon? I believe that discussing music with you might help me find my way again.

Looking forward to your response.

Best regards, Lee Jihoon”

He pauses, his fingers hovering over the send button. The room seems to hold it, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. Finally, with a deep sigh, he sends the email, a flicker of hope piercing through the darkness.

Jihoon leans back in his chair, the tears slowly subsiding. He glances around the room, the shadows no longer seeming as oppressive. As the rain continues to fall outside, Jihoon allows himself a moment of quiet reflection. He knows the journey ahead will be difficult, but for the first time in a long while, he feels a glimmer of possibility, a hint of light in the darkness.

The forest surrounding you is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves. Apollo sits with you on a blanket spread across the grass, the tranquil waters of the lake reflecting the serene beauty of the moment.

Apollo hands you his golden lyre, his fingers brushing against yours as he does so. “Now, remember what I showed you,” he says, his voice soft and encouraging.

You took a deep breath, your fingers tentatively plucking at the strings. A few hesitant notes fill the air, mingling with the encouraging sounds of nature. Apollo watches you intently, his eyes filled with admiration and love

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

With each note, your confidence grew. You glance up at Apollo, a smile tugging at your lips. His praise and gentle guidance make you feel invincible. You begin to play a simple, the notes flowing more smoothly with each attempt.

Apollo leans closer, his arms enveloping you, his presence warm and comforting. “Let’s try something together,” he suggests.

His hands cradle the lyre with yours, its unfamiliar weight making the notes stumble and falter, sparking a cascade of laughter between you. Yet Apollo persists, his fingers weaving a delicate tapestry of sound across the strings. You watch, mesmerized by his effortless grace, his skill transforming each note into a tender caress.

As the music entwines, it swirls around you like a gentle embrace, filling the clearing with a melodious harmony that dances with the rustling leaves and whispering breeze. Apollo leans his chin softly on your shoulder, his presence both grounding and soothing. Your fingers waver, losing their surety beneath the weight of his affection. You surrender to the warmth of his chest, letting the lyre fall to your lap as you lean into him, lost in the serenity of the moment.

Taking over, Apollo plays with a subtle, soulful passion, each note a testament to his mastery. The music flows like liquid gold, filling the space with its beauty. After a while, he returns the lyre to you, his fingers brushing yours in a fleeting touch that sends a shiver down your spine.

You finish the final notes, the melody soft and lingering, while Apollo’s lips trail gentle kisses along the curve of your neck. Each kiss is a whisper of affection, a silent promise woven into the tender music of the evening.

As the final notes fade, Apollo smiles at you, his eyes shining with pride. “You’re incredible,” he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You blush, your heart swelling with affection. “I had a good teacher,” you reply, your tone flirtatious.

You turn your head to meet his gaze, and Apollo moves with an elegant grace, his forehead resting softly against yours. The world around you seems to still, the air thick with the tender intimacy of the moment. He pulls back just a breath, his touch delicate as he raises one hand to your face, his fingertips brushing your skin with the gentlest of caresses.

With a loving precision, he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch as light as a feather, tracing the curve of your cheek. His eyes, deep and expressive, linger on your lips with a tender reverence.

“I could stay here forever with you,” he murmurs, his voice a soft, melodious whisper that seems to drift on the evening breeze, carrying with it the promise of eternity.

Before you can respond, a distant voice calls out your name. You sigh, your expression reluctantly turning serious. “I have to go,” you say, getting out of his embrace and standing up before handing the lyre back to your lover.

He takes it, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer. “Will you come back to me soon?” he asks, his voice tinged with longing.

You nod, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I promise,” you whisper.

As you turn to leave, Apollo’s gaze follows you with a mixture of longing and bittersweet affection. His heart, though full of love, aches with an almost palpable desire to draw you nearer, to keep you forever within his reach. He remains rooted in the clearing, a solitary figure bathed in the soft, fading light of dusk. A lovesick smile plays on his lips, his eyes still glowing with the warmth of the moments shared. The echoes of your music and the lingering touch of your hand haunt him like a sweet, entrancing dream, leaving an indelible mark on his soul.

The twilight deepens, casting long shadows that mingle with the growing night, while you drift into your dreams, wrapped in the comfort of your shared affection. Unbeknownst to you, as the two of you are enveloped in the sanctuary of your loving reveries, vengeful eyes peer from the darkness, their gaze cold and unyielding. The unseen observer watches with a quiet malice, their presence a dark contrast to the serene bliss you and Apollo cherish.

Chapter 3: Warmth of the Sun

You rouse from an unexpected nap, your senses gradually reconnecting with the ambient sounds of your modest office at the institute. The hum of the air conditioner, the distant murmur of conversation, and the rhythmic clacking of keyboards slowly pull you back to consciousness. Blinking away the remnants of sleep and smoothing your disheveled hair, you instinctively reach for your phone. An email notification from the singer who had recently graced the university’s halls catches your eye.

Curiosity piqued and cheeks tinged with a hint of fluster, you gather your composure and walk over to a colleague’s desk. Amidst the soft glow of computer screens and the rustling of papers, you share the intriguing news of Jihoon’s email. Your voice carries a blend of excitement and uncertainty, betraying the flutter of emotions you feel.

“Lee Jihoon wants to meet and discuss music,” you announce, your words spilling out as you pass your phone to your colleague. The screen displays Jihoon’s message, succinct yet promising.

Your colleague reads through the email with a raised eyebrow, a look of mild surprise crossing their face. They nod slowly, their expression a mix of interest and amusement. “He’s quite the character, isn’t he?” they comment, their tone tinged with playful intrigue.

You nod in agreement, a complex swirl of emotions stirring within you. “Yes, he certainly is…”

“I think you should take him up on his offer,” your colleague suggests, their eyes alight with encouragement. “It’s a unique opportunity, might be a good for networking.”

Taking a deep breath, you allow their words to settle. The sterile office space seems to momentarily dissolve, replaced by fleeting memories of citrus scents and the warmth of a special touch. The thought evokes a gentle sense of nostalgia and anticipation.

“You’re right,” you reply softly, a newfound resolve firming within you.

With that, you return to your desk, the soft, curious energy of the moment lingering in the air. As you compose your response to Jihoon’s email, the anticipation of what lies ahead envelops you, and the office around you seems to hum with a newfound promise.

After noticing the late hour, you gather your things and make your way out of the institute. The city outside is bathed in the soft, golden hues of early evening, the setting sun casting long shadows across the streets. You move through the bustling crowd with a quiet sense of anticipation, your mind still buzzing with the implications of Jihoon’s email.

Arriving home, you slip into the comforting sanctuary of your apartment. The familiar sounds of the city fade into the background, replaced by the serene quiet of your personal space. You let out a sigh of relief, the day’s stress slowly unwinding as you step into your cozy, dimly lit living room.

You prepare for bed after a quick dinner. The rhythmic ritual of winding down feels both calming and reassuring. You brush your teeth and change into comfortable pajamas, the softness of the fabric a soothing contrast to the day's formal attire. The scent of citrus from the diffuser fills the air.

In the solitude of your bedroom, you settle into your bed, the cool sheets embracing you as you pull them up to your chin. Your laptop is set aside on the nightstand, Jihoon’s email now a tangible part of your thoughts. The gentle hum of a distant city sounds outside your window is a comforting backdrop as you lie back and allow your mind to wander.

As you turn off the bedside lamp, the room darkens to a soothing twilight, the soft glow of streetlights casting faint patterns on the walls. You close your eyes, and Jihoon’s message drifts to the forefront of your thoughts. His words replay in your mind, each one imbued with the promise of new possibilities and the allure of an encounter yet to come.

You find yourself imagining the meeting, the possibilities of what might unfold. The prospect of discussing music with him, hearing his thoughts and ideas, fills you with a quiet excitement. The tenderness of his email and the enigmatic charm he exudes blend into a wistful reverie.

As you drift closer to sleep, your thoughts are a tapestry of anticipation and curiosity. Jihoon’s face, his smile, and the gentle tone of his voice become part of your dreams. The promise of a future conversation wraps around you like a soft, comforting blanket, and soon, you are lulled into a peaceful slumber, the echoes of Jihoon’s words weaving through your dreams.

You find yourself in a lavish bedroom adorned with silk drapes and flickering oil lamps. You stand by an open window, the moon casting a silvery glow over the room. As you gaze out, a figure materializes before you: Jihoon?– no, this is someone different… you can feel it. The man stands tall and radiant. You feel a magnetic pull towards him, your heart racing with a mixture of awe and desire.

“Apollo,” you whisper instinctively, your voice filled with longing and recognition. The man who looks like Jihoon meets your gaze with a tender smile, his eyes reflecting centuries of longing and a love that transcends time. Slowly, he steps closer, his presence enveloping you in warmth and familiarity. His fingers brush against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. The world around you seems to fade, leaving just the two of you bathed in the moonlight.

As you stand inches apart, the intensity of the moment is palpable. Jihoon’s hand gently caresses your face, and you close your eyes, savoring the touch that feels both new and ancient. The air is thick with unspoken emotions and the promise of something profound.

You awaken suddenly, back in your bedroom. The soft glow of your bedside lamp illuminates the familiar surroundings: a cluttered desk, shelves lined with books, and a faint scent of something ambrosial in the air. Your heart still races from the vivid dream. Had that really been Jihoon? Why were you suddenly dreaming of gods? A mix of confusion and fascination floods your senses. Your cheeks are burning as you realize that you’re going to have to face the man you had such an intimate dream about in just a couple of days.

In the dimly lit ambiance of his studio, Jihoon sits at his desk, the soft glow of his computer screen casting a gentle light on his face. The room is filled with the subtle scent of coffee and the distant hum of city life outside his window. After hours of trying to work, he unlocks his phone to see if he has any messages. His heart skips a beat as he sees Y/N’s email reply, her words filled with warmth and a hint of excitement.

Feeling a surge of hope and renewed affection, Jihoon leans back in his chair, a smile spreading across his features. He reads her message again, savoring each word as if discovering a precious treasure. Her playful tone and genuine interest radiate through the screen, reigniting memories of past conversations and shared moments.

The anticipation of their upcoming meeting fills him with nervous energy. He envisions your face, the sound of your laughter, and the warmth of your presence—even if she’s not you, he lets himself dream. 

With a decisive nod, Jihoon sets his plans in motion. His fingers tap eagerly on the keyboard as he arranges the details, asking her to meet him at a café near campus. The late-night hours pass swiftly as he imagines your reunion. Jihoon’s heart is light, filled with hope and a renewed sense of purpose. He glances at the clock, noting the late hour, but sleep is the last thing on his mind. Instead, he finds himself dreaming of you and the endless possibilities that lie ahead.

As the first light of dawn filters through the window, Jihoon leans back once more, satisfied with his preparations. He knows that this meeting could be the start of something beautiful, a new chapter in your shared story. With a final glance at your email, he shuts down his computer, his heart full and ready for what the future holds—as well as nostalgic over your past.

You stand by the edge of the forest that lines your family home, dappled sunlight filters through the dense canopy, casting a mystical glow over the tranquil surroundings. Amidst the rustling leaves, you try to have a moment of peace and quiet when, suddenly, a figure emerges from the shadows – a man of elegant stature, adorned in a toga of shimmering gold. Your eyes meet, sparks of tension crackling between you.

The beautiful man, undeterred by your irritation, was captivated by your fiery spirit. With a graceful bow and a voice imbued with sincerity, he offered a heartfelt apology. "Forgive my intrusion. I am Apollo, the god of light and music. I was drawn here by your spirit."

“You have no right to intrude,” you snap, though your gaze lingers on his ethereal presence.

Apollo stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I mean you no harm,” he said softly. “I sensed a soul as spirited as the forest itself, and I couldn't resist meeting its bearer.”

In a display of his divine prowess, Apollo performs a magical trick, a burst of light appearing at the movement of his hands. Your eyes widen, taken aback yet intrigued by his powers. The anger in your heart begins to wane, replaced by a budding fascination. You allow him into your peace and he sits down by your side, entranced by your being.

As you find yourself immersed in the tranquil embrace of nature, the world around you becomes a canvas of serenity and whispered secrets. The rustling leaves and soft murmur of the brook create a symphony that echoes the gentle pulse of the earth. Here, in this sacred haven, the boundaries between the divine and the mortal blur, and you are granted a glimpse beyond the celestial façade.

In this fleeting interlude of enchantment, you encounter the man behind the god—his essence revealed not through grand titles or divine spectacles, but through the subtle, intimate moments shared amidst the dappled sunlight and shadowy groves. His presence, though touched by the ethereal, is grounded in the warmth of human connection. You see the depth of his humanity, the tenderness of his gaze, and the sincerity of his touch, all wrapped in the natural splendor that surrounds you.

The forest whispers its age-old secrets, and the air hums with the quiet magic of your meeting. Each shared glance and gentle touch weaves a story of intertwined fates, a dance choreographed by the hands of destiny itself. The connection that binds you grows, a delicate thread spun from the loom of the cosmos, shimmering with the hues of eternity and intimacy.

As you move together through this enchanted realm, the dance of myth and reality intertwines with every step. The cosmic rhythm of your bond echoes through the forest, resonating with the ageless harmonies of the universe. In this timeless moment, where myth meets mortal, your destinies converge, forming a union that is as profound as it is ephemeral. The magic of the cosmos swirls around you, a testament to a connection that transcends the ordinary, forged in the crucible of both celestial wonder and human warmth.

“You have stirred something within me,” Apollo confessed, his voice carrying the weight of millennia. “A mortal spirit so fierce and yet so tender.”

Apollo’s presence radiates a soft, celestial glow as he extends his hand toward you, bestowing a healing light that shimmers like liquid moonlight. The warm radiance wraps around you like a tender embrace, a soothing balm for the soul. As the light envelops you, the weight of your burdens begins to dissolve, replaced by a profound sense of tranquility. The aches that have haunted you ebb away, leaving in their place a serene peace that seems to harmonize with the very fabric of your being.

The bond between you feels tangible, a connection woven from threads of fate and the ageless dance of the cosmos. The celestial and the mortal intertwine in a delicate symphony, echoing the timeless rhythms of the universe.

With a soft, grateful smile, you turn to him. “Apollo, would you visit me tonight? I want to see you again.”

Apollo’s eyes sparkle with an ethereal light, his smile warm and reassuring. “I would be delighted,” he replies, his voice like a caress of the evening breeze. “You shall have my promise.”

As night falls and the sky is draped in a velvet cloak of darkness, Apollo keeps his word. The moon casts its silvery glow upon the world, and he climbs with effortless grace, his figure blending seamlessly with the shadows and moonlight. The air is fragrant with the scent of wildflowers, a heady perfume that mingles with the gentle rustling of leaves.

You stand on your balcony, where the cool night air wraps around you like a gentle caress, the crispness of the evening a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the day. You clutch your thin robe closer, its delicate fabric barely shielding you from the night’s chill. The stillness of the night seems to hold its breath in anticipation, and your heartbeat quickens, a soft flutter of excitement resonating through the serene darkness.

Leaning over the edge, you peer into the velvety abyss below, and your breath hitches in your throat as you catch sight of Apollo’s face, aglow with an otherworldly radiance. His divine presence bathes him in a soft, silvery light that dances with the shadows, making his features appear both ethereal and incredibly close.

“You came,” you say, your voice trembling slightly with a mix of relief and elation, as you extend your hand toward him.

Apollo’s smile is both tender and mischievous as he reaches up to take your hand. “I couldn’t stay away,” he confesses, his voice a melodious murmur that seems to blend seamlessly with the night air.

As he steps onto the balcony and joins you, the world around you transforms into a cocoon of intimacy. You both retreat into the quiet sanctuary of your bedroom, where the soft glow of oil lamps casts a warm, flickering light that dances across the room's serene decor. The gentle illumination bathes everything in a golden hue, creating an atmosphere of both tranquility and expectation.

You and Apollo sit close together, the little space between you filled with anticipation. The air seems charged with an unspoken connection, and every glance, every movement, feels laden with meaning. Apollo’s eyes, reflecting the soft light, hold a gaze of deep, attentive interest as he listens to your heartfelt conversation.

Noticing the slight shiver that has taken hold of you, Apollo shifts a little closer, his warmth a soothing balm against the chill. Sensing his unspoken invitation, you lean into him, resting your head on his chest. The rhythmic, steady beat of his heart beneath your ear brings a comforting sense of closeness, and the world outside fades away, leaving only the intimate cocoon of your shared space and the gentle glow of the oil lamps.

As the night deepens, your connection deepens too, drawing you closer until your breaths mingle in the quiet intimacy of the moment. You look up at him and he holds your face in his hands, carefully looking over each and every one of your features. Apollo leans in, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips, a gesture filled with reverence and longing. Your heart races in response, feeling the undeniable pull of your shared destiny.

Yet, sensing your hesitation and the weight of your burgeoning emotions, Apollo pulls back slightly, his touch lingering on your cheek. He gazes into your eyes with a mixture of desire and restraint, wanting to savor this romance and to truly know you before taking things further.

With a soft smile, Apollo rises from where you sit, a promise of return lingering in his parting words. “Until we meet again,” he whispers, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet night. You watch him go, the echo of his presence lingering in the room, leaving your heart and mind swirling with the complexities of newfound love and the mysteries of your intertwined fates.

As you lie back on your bed, the soft rustle of silk drapes and the flickering light of the oil lamps create a cocoon of warmth around you. The memory of Apollo's kiss and the tender look in his eyes replay in your mind, a delicate thread weaving through the tapestry of your thoughts. The night is filled with dreams of what might come, the promise of love and destiny guiding your heart.

Only a few days pass before you find yourself once more in his presence. As the first tender rays of dawn gently infiltrate your bedroom through the ornate windows, the room transforms into a sanctuary bathed in a soft, golden light. The early morning sun, with its delicate hues, filters through the intricately carved glass, casting a warm, ethereal glow that dances across the room.

The air is hushed and serene, carrying with it a faint but enchanting blend of incense and wildflowers. The subtle aroma weaves through the space, infusing the atmosphere with a calming, fragrant embrace that speaks of both tranquility and the natural world’s quiet beauty.

The bed, a luxurious cocoon draped in rich, sumptuous fabrics, stands as a testament to both elegance and comfort. The linens, adorned with intricate patterns and plush textures, create a space of exquisite softness. Here, amidst the opulence of the bedding, you and Apollo lie entwined. Your bodies are wrapped in a tender embrace, the warmth of his presence melding seamlessly with the softness of the fabrics. The gentle interplay of light and shadow enhances the intimate atmosphere, casting a dreamlike glow over the serene tableau of your shared sanctuary.

Apollo, the radiant deity of the sun, and you, a cherished mortal, are entwined in a tender embrace. In this moment of exquisite intimacy, your bodies rest together, warmed by the residual glow of passion's heat. Apollo’s golden hair shimmers like strands of sunlight caught in the dawn’s gentle embrace, its divine brilliance casting a striking contrast against the earthly warmth of your skin.

The room hums softly with an energy that feels almost palpable—a vibrant, living current born of your intertwined love and boundless desire. This love, a bridge between mortal and divine realms, pulses with a timeless rhythm, transcending the limits of both worlds. In the soft morning light, where shadows play and whispers linger, the boundary between the celestial and the earthly fades, leaving only the pure essence of your shared connection.

In this sacred moment, the world outside fades into insignificance. Your surroundings, once grand and imposing, now serve merely as a backdrop to the profound intimacy you share. Apollo’s touch upon your skin is gentle yet electric, sending shivers down your spine as if each caress were a promise written in the language of the gods.

The silence of the morning is punctuated by whispers—whispers of affection, of longing fulfilled, and of promises exchanged between two souls. Your voices, soft and reverent, carry the weight of countless whispered vows made in the stillness of countless dawns before this one.

Apollo gazes upon you with eyes that hold not just admiration, but reverence. In you, Apollo finds a reflection of the mortal world’s beauty and vulnerability—a beauty that enchants even the sun god himself, and vulnerability that draws forth his protective instincts.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, casting a warm glow across the room, your embrace deepens. You explore the depths of your connection with newfound intensity, each movement a testament to the passion and longing that has bound you together since your first meeting under the auspices of fate. He knows that you don’t have long before your servants come to greet you good morning and get you to start your day. However, he can’t bring himself to leave—not when he still hungers for you. Apollo kisses you again, bringing his lips down your jaw, to your neck, and to your bare chest.

“Again?” you ask with a chuckle. “You’ve barely let me recover.”

He gazes up at you with eyes brimming with longing, and a soft, affectionate coo escapes your lips as your fingers glide gently through his hair. In this tender moment, it feels almost impossible to believe that the man before you is a god. He appears so vulnerable, so exquisitely delicate in your embrace.

Apollo’s lips brush against the tender curve of your chest, planting a kiss in the hollow between your breasts with a reverence that speaks of deep adoration. Slowly, he moves over you, his body fluid and graceful, until he has enclosed you within the gentle fortress of his arms. His presence above you, warm and enveloping, creates a cocoon of intimacy where the world outside fades away, leaving only the delicate, shared space of your love.

“I have to go soon,” he says, “but not yet.”

“Do I really entice you this much?” you murmur and study the way his hair shimmers when you pull your fingers through it.

“Very much,” he admits and presses another kiss on your lips. “I want to devote my love to you. Will you grant me that wish?”

You nod, and his lips are immediately back on yours. Your love, ignited by the primal force of desire and nurtured by a deep understanding of each other’s essence, blooms like the lotus flower at the dawn of creation. Each touch is a prayer whispered into the fabric of time, each kiss a vow written in the stars. One of his hands lifts up your thigh, as the other aligns himself with your core. You gasp at the feeling of him entering you again, but his lips drown out the sound.

Your hands find his shoulders, your nails gently clawing at his skin. Apollo’s hands wander over your skin, his fingers leaving a warm and tingling sensation. The bed beneath you seems to dissolve into nothingness, replaced by the ethereal softness of clouds as he thrusts into you. You float in a realm where the ordinary world no longer holds sway, cradled in a dreamlike embrace. Apollo’s lips gently withdraw from yours, leaving a lingering warmth, as his hand rises to cup your cheek with a tenderness that feels both celestial and intimate.

Outside your reverie, a knock echoes softly on the door, accompanied by a distant, unfamiliar voice calling your name. Yet, within this cocoon of otherworldly bliss, Apollo remains unfazed. His movements continue with a fluid grace, undisturbed by the intrusion, as he draws you deeper into a realm where only the two of you exist—a realm woven from the delicate threads of shared desire and boundless affection.

“I just… adore you,” he murmurs, his eyes hazy with lust.

“I’m close,” you whisper.

Apollo’s head falls to the crook of your neck with a groan, and your fingers immediately tangle in his hair. There’s another knock on your door.

“Just a moment!” You stumble over your words, trying to hold back the noises that are pushing themselves up your throat.

Apollo’s hips stutter as you clench around him, the excitement of the moment becoming too much for you. A moan bubbles up your throat. Apollo moves to lean over you again, putting two of his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. With your eyes, you tell him that you’re just about ready to explode. He nods, replacing his fingers with his lips as he cums inside of you. You ride out your own high by grinding against him. For what feels like hours, but probably only lasted seconds, the two of you hold each other as you blissfully glide through paradise. Another knock at the door disrupts your peace.

“Go,” you whisper to him. “I’ll meet you again later.”

Apollo’s lips meet yours once more, the kiss a lingering, tender farewell that seems to stretch time itself. His touch is soft yet electrifying, a final whisper of affection that dances across your senses. As he pulls away, his gaze holds yours with a mixture of warmth and melancholy.

With a final, adoring smile, Apollo turns toward the edge of your balcony. The soft glow of moonlight highlights his divine features, casting a silvery halo around him. He moves with an otherworldly grace, his steps light and fluid as if he’s gliding rather than walking.

In a fleeting moment, he stands at the edge, the morning air swirling around him like a gentle, ethereal embrace. With a final, lingering glance, he leaps effortlessly into the day, his form vanishing into the soft, velvety light from the morning sun. As he disappears from view, the faintest shimmer of his presence lingers in the air, leaving you with the tender echo of his touch and the soft, wistful glow of his departure.

Chapter 4: Desolate Dreams

The café near the bustling campus buzzes with the animated voices of students and the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee. Jihoon sits tucked away in a cozy corner, his leg bouncing with nervous energy as he checks his phone for the umpteenth time, awaiting Y/N’s arrival. Each passing second feels like an eternity, filled with anticipation and the flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

Finally, she steps through the café door, her smile radiant and infectious. Jihoon’s heart skips a beat as their eyes lock, a wave of relief washing over him. She approaches his table, and the air between them crackles with a mix of nerves and excitement, a dance of emotions that plays out in every glance and smile.

“Hey,” she says, sliding into the chair opposite Jihoon. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Jihoon manages a shy grin. “No worries. I’ve only just got here myself.”

They exchange pleasantries, the atmosphere around them charged with a subtle flirtatious energy. Jihoon finds himself captivated by her easy charm and the sparkle in her eyes as they banter back and forth. The conversation flows effortlessly, touching on everything from classes to hobbies, but it’s their shared passion for music that truly lights up the space between them.

Her face lights up as she talks about her favorite newest project. Jihoon listens intently, hanging on her every word, feeling a kinship in their mutual love for music. He shares snippets of his own musical aspirations, and Y/N’s genuine interest sparks a newfound confidence within him.

“It’d be amazing to see your studio. I’d even help with that song you’re stuck on if you want me to,” she suggests with a playful glint in her eye.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Jihoon replies, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of sharing his unreleased music with her.

In the warm ambiance of the café, surrounded by the aroma of freshly ground coffee and the soft murmur of other patrons, Jihoon and Y/N begin to forge a connection that transcends the ordinary. She leans in closer, her words becoming more intimate, her laughter ringing out like a shared secret. Everything Y/N does reminds him of you.

As they linger over their drinks, Jihoon feels a sense of exhilaration mingled with contentment. Being with her feels right like he’s stumbled upon something special amidst the chaos of his life. He can’t help but marvel at how effortlessly they seem to fit together, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm.

Jihoon cannot deny the magnetic pull drawing him closer to her. Y/N’s presence is a beacon of light in his life, illuminating his path with hope and love. He feels a desperate need to protect her, to shield her from any harm that might threaten her fragile happiness.

In the intimate embrace of Jihoon’s studio, the soft, golden light filters gently through the windows, casting a warm, inviting glow over a space filled with musical instruments and cherished memorabilia. The room breathes with the echoes of countless melodies, yet today, it’s imbued with a unique sense of anticipation.

Y/N had suggested playing a piece for Jihoon, a haunting melody that had lingered in her mind—a melody she had struggled to piece together on her own. Jihoon, after carefully maneuvering the harp into the recording booth through numerous attempts, positions Y/N at the heart of the studio. With a nod of readiness, she signals Jihoon, who presses the record button with a mix of reverence and excitement.

Seated gracefully by the harp, Y/N’s presence seems to embody serenity and poise. Her fingers move with delicate precision, each motion a dance across the strings. As she begins to play, the air fills with a melody that unfurls like a wistful story. The notes flow with a fluid grace, weaving through the space with a familiarity that transcends time—a melody imbued with the echoes of ancient love and longing.

Jihoon listens, his heart stirred by the profound beauty of the music. The melody is more than just notes; it is a haunting, ethereal song that he has known for lifetimes. The strains of the harp bring back a rush of memories, fragments of a distant past that had faded over time but now resurface with crystal clarity. The melody, a link to a bygone era, reverberates through him, stirring emotions he thought were long buried.

Standing in the dimly lit studio, Jihoon is mesmerized, his gaze fixed on Y/N. The tears that sting his eyes are a testament to the overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief that fills his heart. The music is a bridge between past and present, its poignant notes binding him to a time and a person he thought he had lost forever. Each chord and every delicate arpeggio is a whisper from another era, weaving a connection between them that is as timeless as it is profound.

As you finish playing, a gentle silence descends upon the studio, punctuated only by the soft echoes of their shared emotions. Jihoon finds his voice, choked with emotion yet filled with gratitude. “Y/N, that was... breathtaking,” Jihoon manages to say, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. 

You smile warmly, your eyes reflecting understanding and a hint of affection. “I’m glad you liked it. You’re more than welcome to use it, I’ve had trouble putting it to use for ages.”

Before you prepare to leave, Jihoon gathers his courage, his heart beating with anticipation as he extends a heartfelt invitation to Y/N. His voice trembles slightly with a mix of nerves and hope as he speaks.

“Y/N, would you... would you join me at the listening party for my album?” Jihoon asks, his eyes searching for yours earnestly. “I would love for you to be there.”

Your expression softens with a smile, her gaze meeting Jihoon’s with warmth and understanding. “I’d be honored to come, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s heart swells at your words. As soon as he’s said goodbye, and you’re out of earshot, he lets out a joyful shout. Immediately, he gets behind his computer to finish the song. In the dimly lit solitude of his studio, Jihoon sits before his piano, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows across the room. The air is thick with anticipation and reverence as he gathers his thoughts, his own haunting melody and poignant lyrics echoing in his mind. They stir ancient memories and timeless emotions, weaving themselves into the fabric of Jihoon’s being.

With each note that resonates through the air, Jihoon pours his heart and soul into the composition. He closes his eyes, allowing his lyrics to flow like a river of emotions, carrying with them the echoes of laughter and tears shared with you. The piano becomes an extension of his deepest feelings, each chord and progression a reflection of their shared past and the uncertainty of their present love.

His voice rises in a haunting melody that fills the room. His lyrics imbued with vulnerability and raw honesty—from the depths of longing to the heights of uncertain love. Every word is a testament to the fragile nature of their connection, a reflection of Jihoon’s inner turmoil and his yearning for clarity.

Through the timeless alchemy of music, Jihoon channels the essence of your relationship’s uncertainty. Each lyric becomes a vessel for his doubts and hopes, immortalizing his complex emotions in a symphony of passion and introspection. The song evolves with each heartfelt verse, capturing the bittersweet beauty of their intertwined destinies.

As the final notes of “What Kind of Future” fade into the stillness of the night, Jihoon feels a profound sense of catharsis wash over him. The song stands as a testament to your journey, a poignant reminder of the depth of their connection despite the uncertainties that lie ahead.

The air is thick with the heady fragrance of pine sap and the earthy richness of the forest floor. Soft murmurs of unseen creatures create a haunting symphony that reverberates through the dense canopy overhead. Moonlight, filtered through the tangled branches, spills in delicate shafts that paint the ground with shifting patterns of light and shadow.

Apollo's heart pounds with a frantic rhythm, his golden hair and divine robes catching in the underbrush as he runs. His keen senses are overwhelmed by a sense of impending dread. A dryad, her voice trembling with concern, had led him here with the dire news of your plight—of Ares and the terrible fate that had befallen you.

The serene landscape around him seems almost to hold its breath as Apollo crashes through the forest, his footsteps echoing like thunder through the ancient woods. The moonlight reveals a gruesome contrast to the tranquil beauty: your lifeless body lies crumpled amidst the tangled foliage. The sight is a brutal shock—a vivid splash of crimson staining the otherwise peaceful scene, a jarring testament to the violence that had taken place.

Apollo's breath catches in his throat. The world around him blurs as his gaze locks onto the sight of Ares, who stands grimly beside your corpse. The presence of the god of war is a dark blight on the scene, his fierce eyes meeting Apollo's with a cold, unfeeling gaze.

Time seems to freeze in that moment, a heavy silence descending upon the forest as Apollo's heart clenches with anguish. The serene beauty of the woods is eclipsed by the brutal reality of what he has found. With a final, anguished cry, he rushes to your side, his footsteps pounding through the silence of the ancient woods. Each step feels like an eternity, his divine energy merging with the primal pain of his loss as he reaches out to you, desperate to reclaim the love that has been so cruelly torn away.

“Y/N, no!” Apollo’s voice shatters the quiet, filled with raw anguish. He kneels beside her, hands trembling as he reaches out to gently cradle her still form. His voice breaks with sorrow and rage, a primal scream of anguish tearing through the trees.

Tears stream down his face unchecked, mingling with the blood that stains her pale skin. The vibrant life she once possessed now lies still and cold, a cruel testament to the fragility of mortal existence.

“Y/N, please come back,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. “You can’t leave me like this.”

Memories surge through his mind like a tempest. He is engulfed by a flood of images—the warmth of the sun on your faces, the way your laughter seemed to dance through the skies, the tender vows exchanged beneath a starlit canopy. These moments, once full of life and hope, now feel achingly ephemeral, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

In the midst of this chaotic despair, Apollo can do nothing but clutch your lifeless body to his chest. His hands, trembling with sorrow, hold you as if by sheer force of will he might bring you back from the brink of oblivion. His heart, once a vessel of divine strength, is now shattered into a myriad of irreparable fragments. Each beat echoes with the agony of loss, a cacophony of pain that reverberates through his very soul. The once bright and eternal light within him dims, consumed by the overwhelming darkness of grief.

The forest bears witness to Apollo’s grief, its ancient trees standing sentinel around them as he mourns the loss of his beloved. His sorrow reverberates through the very fabric of their shared existence, a testament to the devastating impact of Ares’ cruel betrayal. The once-peaceful woods seem to sigh in sympathy, the breeze carrying Apollo’s cries of anguish into the stillness.

Through tear-blurred eyes, he looks up at Ares, standing amidst the trees. His eyes are cold and unrepentant. Apollo’s grief transforms into a surge of anger.

“You!” Apollo’s voice is hoarse with rage as he struggles to rise to his feet. “You did this!”

Ares’ voice is as frigid and unyielding as steel, his expression devoid of warmth or empathy. “Hera’s decree. If she can’t see you dead, she’ll make sure to find another way to make you suffer for daring to be Zeus’ new favorite.”

Fueled by a mix of sorrow and fury, Apollo attempts to lunge at Ares, but his grief-weakened body betrays him. He stumbles, collapsing back to the ground, his strength sapped by the overwhelming despair. His fingers dig into the earth, trying to push himself up again, but it’s no use. The weight of his sorrow is too great.

Ares watches him with a sneer. “Pathetic,” he mutters before turning away and disappearing into the depths of the forest.

Apollo’s vision blurs as fresh tears spill from his eyes. “I’ll make you pay,” he vows, his voice barely a whisper. “One day, I’ll make you pay.”

Determined and desperate, Apollo descends into the Underworld—his body still covered in your blood. The River Styx looms ahead, its dark waters whispering of forgotten souls and eternal rest. The urgency of his mission propels him forward, the weight of his grief a constant companion.

“Charon!” Apollo calls out, his voice echoing across the dark expanse. The ferryman appears, his skeletal form shrouded in shadows, and with a nod, he extends a bony hand. Apollo places a gold coin into the ferryman’s palm, the payment for passage.

As the boat cuts through the inky water, Apollo’s mind races. He must convince Hades to return you from the clutches of death. The mere thought of your lifeless form lying in the forest is unbearable.

Upon reaching the other side, Apollo steps onto the ashen shore and makes his way to the imposing gates of the Underworld. Cerberus, the three-headed guardian, growls low, each head eyeing him warily. With a wave of his hand and a murmur of soothing words, Apollo pacifies the beast and continues forward.

In the throne room, Hades sits in brooding silence, his dark eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression. 

“Hades,” Apollo begins, his voice steady but filled with urgency, “I have come to ask for the return of my Y/N. Her death was unjust, a result of Hera’s jealousy and Ares’ brutality. She deserves another chance at life.”

Hades regards Apollo with a mixture of curiosity and pity. “Apollo, god of light, even you must know the rules of my realm. No soul leaves without due reason, and certainly not without its appointed time.”

“But she was taken too soon!” Apollo’s desperation seeps into his words. “She had so much more to live for, so much love left to give.”

Hades leans forward, his gaze intense. “The balance of life and death is not so easily swayed. Every soul has its time, and its place in the grand design. To disrupt that order is to invite chaos.”

Apollo’s hands clench into fists at his sides. “Then let me take her place. I will remain here, in her stead. Just let her return to the living.”

Hades' expression is soft with understanding underneath the cold exterior. “Apollo, your love for her is evident, but such exchanges are not within our power to grant lightly. The threads of fate are woven tightly, and even the gods must respect them.”

“But why?” Apollo’s voice breaks, the raw edge of his grief cutting through the stillness. “Why must she suffer for the whims of others?”

Hades sighs, a rare glimpse of compassion in his eyes. “Because it is not her time to return. Her soul must find its peace here, in its due course. To interfere would be to unravel the very fabric of existence. Wait now, and meet her again in the future when her soul returns to Earth through another body.”

Tears stream down Apollo’s face, his hope crumbling to dust. “Then what am I to do now? How can I go on without her?”

“Grieve, Apollo. Grieve and remember her. Cherish the love you shared, and let it guide you through this darkness. In time, the pain will lessen, and her memory will become a source of strength rather than sorrow.”

Apollo nods, his heart laden with the somber weight of acceptance. He had ventured in search of a miracle, only to discover that even gods are not exempt from the inescapable embrace of death.

With a final, sorrowful glance at Hades, Apollo turns and makes his way back to the living world, the shadows of the Underworld lingering in his heart. The path ahead seems bleak, but he resolves to honor your memory, carrying the light of their love with him as he faces the uncertain days to come.

In the stillness of Jihoon’s bedroom, where moonlight weaves ghostly patterns through the curtains and shadows dance across the walls, a sudden jolt shatters the tranquility. Jihoon bolts awake, his body drenched in sweat and his breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Tears streak his cheeks, remnants of a nightmarish vision that clings to him like a chilling specter. The room’s serene ambiance is obliterated by the sharp sting of his awakening, leaving him trembling and disoriented, as the haunting echoes of his dream continue to reverberate through the silence.

Gasping for air, Jihoon’s heart pounds with sorrow and panic, his mind still ensnared in the vivid echoes of his grief. His hands tremble with residual emotion as he tries to shake off the tendrils of the nightmare that have left him shaken to the core.

As Jihoon reaches for the glass of water on his bedside table, his trembling fingers betray him. The glass slips from his grasp, falling in slow motion as if time itself is taunting him. It crashes to the floor with a sharp, splintering explosion, sending shards of glass skittering across the room. The sound is jarring, a violent punctuation mark to the unsettling silence that followed his abrupt awakening.

Startled and disoriented, Jihoon stares blankly at the scattered fragments, each shard reflecting the fractured state of his mind. The broken glass, glinting ominously in the moonlight, mirrors the chaos roiling within him.

“Get a grip, Jihoon,” he mutters to himself, his voice a strained whisper of reassurance amidst the turmoil. “It’s over. It’s just a nightmare.”

With a weary sigh, Jihoon drags himself from the bed, the weight of exhaustion bearing down on him like a leaden shroud. He moves cautiously, his footsteps heavy as he carefully picks up the larger pieces of glass, wincing with each crunch underfoot. The small, jagged shards are painstakingly gathered and swept into a dustpan, his hands moving with mechanical precision.

The act of cleaning up the glass is both a physical and emotional distraction, a way to ground himself in the mundane reality of the present. Each piece he collects feels like a step toward regaining control, a small act of order in the wake of his distress.

When the last of the glass is cleared away, Jihoon returns to his bed with a bone-deep weariness. He sinks into the sheets, burying his face in his hands as if to shield himself from the lingering echoes of his nightmare. The bed, once a refuge, now feels like an oppressive weight as he grapples with the flood of sadness and fear that continues to haunt him. Exhaustion envelops him like a cold, unforgiving tide, pulling him down as he struggles to find solace in the fragile embrace of sleep.

In the stillness of the night, Jihoon wrestles with the aftermath of his tumultuous dream, grappling with the deep-seated emotions that threaten to consume him. His tears fall silently as he seeks solace in the darkness, longing for the fleeting comfort of sleep to bring respite from the relentless ache in his heart.

“Please, just let me sleep,” he pleads, closing his eyes against the tears. “Let me forget, even just for a little while.”

Outside, the world sleeps unaware of Jihoon’s turmoil, but inside his bedroom, shadows dance and moonlight weaves a soft tapestry of light and dark. Jihoon remains caught in the grip of sorrow and exhaustion, waiting for the dawn to bring clarity and a renewed strength to face the day ahead.

“I’ll be okay,” he tells himself, though his voice lacks conviction. “I just need to rest. Tomorrow will be better.”

But as the night stretches on, Jihoon can only hope that the morning light will chase away the shadows of his dreams and bring with it the peace he so desperately seeks.

Chapter 5: Resonance of Forgotten Tides

The album-listening party thrums with vibrant anticipation, its energy a living pulse that vibrates through the room. Conversations mingle with the rich swell of background music, creating a tapestry of sound and chatter. You navigate through the animated crowd, your heart fluttering with a blend of excitement and curiosity.

Across the room, Jihoon’s gaze meets yours. A genuine smile blossoms across his face, his eyes sparkling with warmth. He makes his way through the sea of guests, his presence commanding attention. As he reaches you, he extends a hand with an inviting gesture.

“Glad you could make it,” Jihoon says, his voice a blend of enthusiasm and relief. “Come, let me show you around.”

As Jihoon leads you through the gathering, you’re enveloped in the rich, immersive atmosphere of the party. The room is alive with animated conversation and the tantalizing promise of new music. A subtle, almost imperceptible recognition stirs deep within you—a sensation that you’ve been here before, in a place where music and memories intertwine.

Jihoon guides you to a prime spot at the front of the room, his touch light on your back as he gestures to the small stage. “I’ll be introducing the album in a moment,” he says, his tone imbued with both excitement and a hint of nervousness. “I hope you enjoy it.”

He then steps away, ascending the stage with a confident stride. The room's chatter fades, replaced by a reverent hush as Jihoon takes the microphone. His voice, warm and engaging, begins to speak, but you’re too absorbed in the growing tension to focus on his words.

As the first notes of the album unfurl, they drift through the room with an almost ethereal grace. The sound weaves through the crowd, each note delicate and precise, creating a soft, shimmering veil of music that envelops everyone present. The songs flow seamlessly into one another, each transition smooth and fluid, heightening the anticipation that crackles in the air like static electricity.

But it is the final track that captures your attention with an intensity that feels almost supernatural. As the opening chords of the song emerge, a wave of haunting familiarity crashes over you. The melody wraps itself around your senses, its pull almost magnetic, as if the music itself is reaching out to touch a part of you buried deep within.

Each note, each lyric, resonates with an eerie familiarity, stirring memories that seem to slip just out of reach. The melody is both mesmerizing and unsettling, tugging at your emotions with a power that is both awe-inspiring and bewildering. It feels as though the music is unearthing something buried in the recesses of your mind, a part of you that you had almost forgotten.

A tumultuous mix of awe, confusion, and an inexplicable yearning swirls within you. Your heart races, pounding in sync with the rhythm of the song as it weaves its intricate patterns of beauty and emotional depth. The music resonates with a hauntingly ethereal quality, drawing you to the edge of forgotten memories, leaving you teetering between the echoes of the past and the reality of the present.

As Jihoon’s voice rises to its emotional zenith in the song’s poignant conclusion, a profound shift occurs within you. It feels as though a floodgate has been flung open in your mind, unleashing a torrent of memories from a past life.

You catch fleeting glimpses of an opulent, bygone era, each image shimmering with the golden hues of a sunlit past. The grandeur of a stately manor unfurls before you, its rooms draped in luxurious fabrics and adorned with intricate tapestries that tell stories of ancient splendor. Crystal chandeliers cast their radiant glow, illuminating moments of blissful intimacy that you once shared with Apollo.

You see yourself wandering through verdant gardens, where the air is thick with the intoxicating fragrance of blooming roses and citrus blossoms. Apollo stands beside you, his divine presence a beacon of warmth amidst the lush greenery. His golden hair glows like a halo under the dappled sunlight, and his laughter rings like a celestial melody, mingling with the whispers of the breeze.

You recall tender moments spent beneath sprawling orange trees, their branches heavy with ripe fruit. Apollo’s fingers gently pluck an orange, the tangy scent mingling with the floral aroma of the garden as he leans in to kiss your cheek, his touch both soothing and electrifying.

You find yourselves on a sun-drenched terrace overlooking an azure sea, the water sparkling like sapphires under the afternoon sun. Apollo holds you close, his embrace a sanctuary of warmth and comfort. The two of you dance together, moving in perfect harmony to a melody only you two can hear. His gaze is unwavering, filled with adoration and an eternity of promises.

The images are vivid and overwhelming, crashing against the shores of your consciousness like a torrent of nostalgia. Each memory is a testament to a love that transcended mortal boundaries, a bond forged in the fires of an ancient romance that defied time itself. The overwhelming flood of sensations and emotions sweeps through you, leaving you breathless and awestruck as you stand on the precipice of a past life that now feels as tangible as the present.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes as the profound realization dawns upon you. Jihoon’s song is not just a melody—it is a reflection of your shared past, a testament to a love that has spanned across centuries. The realization threads through your mind, weaving together the fragmented pieces of your intertwined destinies into a tapestry of profound clarity.

As the final echoes of the music fade, you turn your gaze toward Jihoon, your heart aching with the weight of newfound understanding. He stands alone in a distant corner of the room, a solitary figure amidst the sea of guests. But Jihoon, consumed by his own emotional storm, does not meet your eyes.

Driven by the urgent pulse of your revelation, you find yourself desperately pushing through the swarming sea of partygoers. The crowd feels almost alive, a living barrier of laughing faces and chattering voices that press in on you from all sides. Each movement you make is slowed by their collective inertia, every step forward a Herculean effort against the relentless tide of bodies.

The cacophony of the party—laughter, clinking glasses, and the echo of the final notes from Jihoon's album—seems to swell around you, amplifying your sense of isolation and anxiety. You catch fleeting glimpses of Jihoon’s retreating figure, his back turned as he navigates the throng of guests, and your heart pounds with a frantic rhythm, each beat driven by the fear of losing him.

Sweat beads on your forehead, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as you struggle to forge a path through the crowd. The warmth of the room, once inviting, now feels stifling, a physical manifestation of the mounting pressure in your chest. Your hands graze the edges of people’s jackets and the fabric of their clothes, their voices a dissonant symphony that heightens your growing sense of panic.

Just as you make a final, desperate push to reach him, you see Jihoon slip through the side door, disappearing into the night beyond the party's glow. The door closes with a muted thud that resonates like a final, crushing blow. Your outstretched hand hangs in mid-air.

You’re left standing amidst the echoes of the party��s final notes and the fading hum of conversation, the realization of your intertwined past hanging heavily in the air around you. The once-celebratory atmosphere now feels hollow and distant, the weight of your unspoken truth settling over you like a shroud.

In Jihoon’s apartment, the air is thick with an unsettling stillness, punctuated only by the distant murmur of city life that drifts through the open window. The urban symphony—a low rumble of traffic, the occasional distant siren—filters into the room, but it feels like a world away from the silence that hangs heavy within the apartment.

Jihoon stands alone amidst this quiet, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a physical burden. His suitcase, meticulously packed, lies on the bed, its presence a stark reminder of his imminent departure. The room, usually vibrant with his personal touches, now seems stark and impersonal, a reflection of his state of mind. Boxes, filled with his life’s possessions, are stacked haphazardly, waiting to be moved, each one a symbol of his reluctance to settle and face the past.

He gazes out of the window at the sprawling city skyline, a mosaic of shimmering lights and shadowy buildings that stretch into the horizon. The sight is both mesmerizing and melancholic, a visual representation of the opportunities slipping through his fingers. The vast expanse of the city, once full of promise, now seems like an endless expanse of regret and missed chances.

As Jihoon wrestles with the tumultuous mix of regret, longing, and bitter heartache, the weight of his unfulfilled love for you bears down heavily on him. The uncertainty of what could have been gnaws at him relentlessly, each thought a jagged edge that tears at his resolve. The decision to leave seems like the only way to escape the emotional turmoil that has become his constant companion.

His phone vibrates with a text from his manager, breaking through the fog of his thoughts: “I’m ready to take you to the airport.” The message is both a call to action and a finality, pushing him closer to the edge of his decision. With a heavy heart and a sense of resignation, Jihoon realizes there is nothing left to hold him back.

He takes one last look around the apartment, the echo of his footsteps sounding hollow in the empty space. The city outside continues its relentless pace, indifferent to his departure. He grabs his suitcase, the weight of it a tangible reminder of the life he is leaving behind, and steps out of the apartment. The cool night air greets him as he descends the building’s steps, each movement a step away from the life he once knew and the love he is forced to leave behind.

As he heads towards the waiting car, the finality of his choice settles around him like a shroud, the city lights fading into a blur of regret and sorrow.

The airport terminal hums with frenetic energy, a living tapestry of farewells and reunions. The cacophony of rolling suitcases, urgent announcements, and the murmur of conversations creates a backdrop of bustling urgency. Amid this whirlwind of activity, Jihoon stands on the precipice of departure, his thoughts steeped in a brooding contemplation. His eyes are distant, fixated on the distant plane that promises escape.

But just as he readies himself to step onto the jet bridge, the atmosphere around him shifts, charged with an unexpected jolt. Through the dense sea of hurried travelers and flashing departure boards, a figure emerges—it's you. Your presence cuts through the crowd like a beacon, a luminous thread of determination weaving its way through the chaos.

Jihoon's heart leaps as he locks eyes with you, his face a canvas of disbelief and shock. The world narrows to just the space between you, the terminal's clamor fading into a distant hum.

"Jihoon, wait!" your voice pierces through the din, a lifeline in the tempest of the terminal.

You move with urgency, each step resonating like a heartbeat in the cavernous space. Your strides are firm, purposeful, and as you close the distance, the tumult around you seems to pause, holding its breath. Jihoon's breath catches in his throat as you reach him, and in an instant, your arms are around him, enveloping him in a desperate, fervent embrace. The warmth of your body presses against his, grounding him with a sensation both calming and electrifying.

"Y/N?" Jihoon's voice trembles, revealing the storm of emotions within him.

Tears pool in Jihoon's eyes as he feels your breath against his ear, your whisper a soft, aching caress that resonates through his very soul. "I remember everything," you murmur, each word imbued with the gravity of eons of shared memories and unspoken yearnings. "I remember everything. Please don’t leave, Jihoon."

A tidal wave of emotion surges through Jihoon, an intoxicating mix of joy, relief, and incredulity at this miraculous convergence of fate. The chaos of the airport fades into obscurity as he clings to you, your embrace a sanctuary amidst the tumult of travelers and terminal announcements. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent that rekindles a cascade of memories—each breath a journey back to the shared moments that had once bound them together.

“I can’t believe that it's you,” Jihoon whispers, his voice trembling with emotion. “I thought I lost you forever.”

You tighten your grip around him, your voice filled with conviction. “I couldn't let you go, not again.”

Around them, travelers rush past, oblivious to the profound moment unfolding. For Jihoon and you, time seems to stand still as you cling to each other, your hands intertwined as if anchoring yourselves against the uncertain currents of life. The sounds of announcements, footsteps, and rolling suitcases blend into a distant hum.

“Promise me,” Jihoon murmurs, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, “promise me we’ll never be apart again.”

You nod, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I promise.”

As airport security approaches, Jihoon’s grip around you tightens, his fingers refusing to let go. He senses the impending intrusion and instinctively draws you closer, pressing your head gently into the crook of his neck. His embrace is protective, shielding you from the sight of the security personnel who are making their way over to address the disturbance.

With a fierce determination, Jihoon’s eyes lock onto the approaching officers, silently pleading with them to respect the precious moment between the two of you. He keeps his voice low and steady, murmuring softly against your ear, “Just hold on a little longer.”

The security team hesitates, momentarily taken aback by Jihoon's unwavering stance. He subtly gestures to them, signaling that everything is under control. They read the unspoken command in his eyes and, after a brief pause, step back, giving you and Jihoon a moment of reprieve.

Jihoon gently loosens his embrace, just enough to glance at you. His movements are deliberate and careful, designed to keep you blissfully unaware of the escalating tension around you. His eyes scan the crowd, ensuring that no hint of anxiety reaches your serene expression. With tender precision, he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch feather-light, as though he’s afraid to disrupt the calm you maintain.

You respond with a kiss that is both soft and resolute, your lips lingering on Jihoon’s in a silent promise. “I’ll never leave you,” you murmur, your words floating between you like a lifeline amidst the surrounding chaos. The declaration is a small beacon of reassurance in the whirlwind of uncertainty.

Jihoon’s grip on your hand tightens once more, his fingers wrapping around yours with a fervent tenderness that conveys the depth of his love and commitment. His gaze, locked with yours, mirrors a profound sense of devotion and urgency. Together, you weave through the dense mass of passengers, each step a defiant push against the stream of hurried travelers.

The world around you blurs into a chaotic swirl of colors and noises, but in the cocoon of your intertwined hands and shared glances, you find a grounding solace. The chaos of the airport recedes into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your combined presence. In the eye of this storm, your connection becomes an unwavering anchor, a quiet sanctuary amidst the frenetic energy of the departing crowd.

Epilogue: Sunlit Mornings and Quiet Evenings

The morning sun wove its gentle rays through the sheer curtains of your cozy apartment, casting a soft, golden luminescence that bathed the room in a tranquil, ethereal light. The city outside stirred with its habitual, soothing hum—an ambient symphony that mirrored the serene sanctuary of your home. Within this peaceful cocoon, you lay tangled in the sheets, your body twisting restlessly as you resisted the arrival of dawn.

Suddenly, the comforting warmth of your husband’s presence beside you is absent, and you stir awake with a jolt. Your eyes scan the room in a sleepy haze, but he’s nowhere to be seen. A tantalizing hint of sweetness wafts through the air, pulling you from the clutches of sleep. The inviting aroma of breakfast being prepared reaches your senses, urging you out of bed.

With a yawn and a stretch, you push aside the covers. After your wedding night you've slept naked, never wanting to sleep next to your husband without being as close as you possibly could be. So, before venturing out of the bedroom, you slip into one of his oversized t-shirts. The shirt hangs loosely on your frame, its familiar scent a soothing reminder of him.

As you wander through your apartment, every corner of the space tells a story—a living mosaic of your journey together. The walls are adorned with mementos of your shared adventures, each item a tangible fragment of your love and history. You pause beside a framed photograph from your honeymoon in Greece, the sunlit image a cherished memory. A smile tugs at your lips as you take in the scene, savoring the warmth of the moment before continuing your path to the kitchen, where the promise of a lovingly prepared breakfast awaits.

In the kitchen, Jihoon stands by the stove, a vision of effortless grace and casual allure. His tousled golden hair catches the morning light, glinting with every subtle movement, while the faintest scent of him mingles with the aroma of breakfast. His bare back is a tapestry of finely honed muscles, each sinew and contour moving with fluid precision as he flips pancakes with a practiced ease. The soft, melodic hum that escapes his lips seems almost to dance in harmony with the sizzle of the batter on the pan.

The low-hanging pants he wears hang precariously from his hips, accentuating his sculpted form and adding to the mesmerizing tableau. His every motion, from the gentle arch of his back to the easy sway of his torso, is imbued with an innate elegance and strength. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking—an intoxicating blend of divine beauty and earthy charm that leaves you spellbound.

In moments like these, it’s impossible to forget that your husband is more than mortal. He embodies an otherworldly grace, a living testament to the godly allure that first drew you to him. His presence in the kitchen is a reminder of the timeless majesty and irresistible magnetism that defines him, making it clear why he remains an enduring marvel in your life.

The kitchen is enveloped in a warm, inviting aroma—the sweet scent of breakfast mingles seamlessly with the rich, comforting fragrance of freshly brewed coffee. You move softly across the tiled floor, barely making a sound as you approach Jihoon. With a gentle, affectionate touch, you slip your arms around his waist, your fingers splaying across his bare back. Leaning in, you press a series of tender kisses to his warm skin, savoring the intimate closeness.

“Good morning,” you whisper softly, your breath warm against him, carrying the lingering softness of sleep.

Jihoon turns in your embrace, his eyes meeting yours with a love that lights up his face. A smile of pure affection curves his lips. “Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

You nod, a gentle squeeze in return, your gesture a quiet testament to the comfort he brings you. Moving to the counter, you pour yourself a steaming cup of coffee, cradling the warm mug between your hands. The heat from the cup seeps into your fingers, chasing away the last vestiges of the morning chill and wrapping you in its comforting embrace.

“Thanks to you, I did,” you reply, your voice soft and filled with gratitude. “And you?”

Jihoon’s gaze turns back to the stove, his eyes reflecting a deep, unspoken affection. “Always better with you beside me,” he says, his tone a mix of warmth and adoration. “Breakfast will be ready in just a minute.”

While Jihoon tends to the pancakes, you set the table with practiced ease; placing down plates, and cutlery, and adding a bowl of freshly cut fruit alongside a pot of maple syrup. Their movements around the kitchen flow seamlessly, a choreography of shared routines and unspoken affection, each gesture a silent declaration of your love. 

As Jihoon approaches the table with a stack of pancakes, you greet him with a warm, anticipatory smile. He pulls out your chair with a graceful gesture, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary, and you settle into your seat, feeling the subtle brush of his leg against yours as he takes the chair across from you.

The table is soon graced with a generous serving of pancakes, each one a masterpiece adorned with vibrant, fresh fruit and delicately drizzled with syrup that glistens like liquid gold. Jihoon’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction as he places the plate before you.

“Eat well,” he murmurs, his voice low and tender, carrying a note of affection.

You take a bite of the fluffy pancakes, the sweet syrup mingling with the fruit’s tang, and savor the deliciousness. Looking up with a playful glint in your eye, you tease him gently. “I was a bit disappointed to wake up alone this morning, but these pancakes make it all worth it.”

Jihoon chuckles softly, serving himself a portion as he takes his seat. “I had intended to bring you breakfast in bed, but you got up before I could,” he admits, his gaze warm and sincere. “I wanted to make sure you fully enjoyed your day off.”

You smile, a sense of contentment settling over you. “I’m sure I will,” you promise, your voice imbued with a mix of gratitude and anticipation, “especially with you by my side.”

You eat in comfortable silence, the morning light filtering through the curtains and casting a soft glow upon your faces. Your smiles spoke volumes, each glance exchanges a silent reassurance of your bond and the happiness you find in each other’s company.

“So.” Jihoon puts down his fork and pushes away his empty plate. “What’s the plan for today?”

You tilt your head in mock consideration, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Well, how about a leisurely walk in the park, a visit to the little bookstore we passed yesterday, and a cozy movie night at home?”

“That sounds perfect. I’ve been curious about that bookstore too.”

“Since when?” you question. “I haven’t seen you read since… I honestly don’t know.”

“I read your last article, don’t you remember? And I’ve been interested in the bookstore since you said that you’re interested in it,” he admits and shyly looks down at his empty plate.

A gentle warmth blooms on your cheeks, curling into a soft, loving smile. As you and Jihoon clear the table together, the morning unfolds like a tender embrace, filled with the harmonious sound of your shared laughter and lighthearted banter. The rhythmic clink of dishes and the hum of the dishwasher become a soothing melody that mingles with your voices, creating a symphony of domestic bliss.

Jihoon, with a playful sparkle in his eyes, splashes water towards you as he rinses a plate. You retaliate with a mischievous flick of soap suds, and the kitchen is soon filled with your shared laughter, echoing with the joy of simple pleasures. The routine of washing dishes and tidying up is transformed into a dance of affection, each gesture and glance deepening the bond you share.

As you finish the last of the dishes, Jihoon’s arms wrap around you from behind, his embrace enveloping you in warmth and security. His chin rests gently on your shoulder, and his breath, warm and intimate, caresses your ear as he murmurs, “I love mornings like these.”

You lean back into his embrace, savoring the comforting presence of his body against yours. “Me too,” you whisper, your voice a soft caress.

His lips brush your skin with a loving, delicate touch. As you gaze into his eyes, your heart swells with a profound affection, each moment together weaving a tapestry of love and connection. “I’m so grateful for you,” you say, your voice filled with deep emotion.

After finishing the morning cleanup, you both decide to embrace the tranquility of a park walk. Since your marriage, Jihoon has significantly reduced his public appearances, choosing to protect your shared privacy. This careful balance allows him occasional escapes from the spotlight, like now, avoiding the relentless attention of fans and paparazzi despite being in public. With enough money to ensure a comfortable life, the reduced pace of his music career is a manageable trade-off for both of you.

As you wander through the park, the world outside seems to melt away. The air is cool and invigorating, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. The soft breeze glides over your skin, like a gentle caress that refreshes and revitalizes you with every breath. Above you, the canopy of trees forms a verdant mosaic, their leaves rustling softly in the wind. The play of light and shadow creates a dappled pattern on the path, enhancing the serene atmosphere.

Jihoon’s hand slips into yours, his warmth a comforting presence as you walk side by side. The rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant murmur of a babbling brook are soothing sounds that blend harmoniously with the peaceful ambiance of the park. Birds chirp melodically from the branches, their songs adding a natural soundtrack to your leisurely stroll.

The park seems to embrace you both, the landscape a serene backdrop to your shared moments. Each step you take together feels like a celebration of your connection, the conversation flowing effortlessly as you revel in each other’s company. The simple joy of this walk through nature, with its refreshing breeze and gentle rustle of leaves, deepens the bond you cherish, making it a cherished escape from the usual hustle and bustle of life.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Jihoon starts, his hand gently squeezing yours as you walk side by side. “We should visit that new art gallery downtown this weekend. I heard they have a fantastic exhibit on impressionist paintings.”

You nod enthusiastically, a smile lighting up your face. “That sounds wonderful! And maybe afterward, we can try that little café you’ve been raving about.”

“I haven't been raving about it" Jihoon playfully rolls his eyes, but he can't hide the red glow on his ears. “I’ve been dying to take you there. They have the best pastries in town.”

Your conversation flows naturally as you stroll through the park, seamlessly shifting from weekend plans to dreams for the future. The soft sounds of nature—birds chirping, leaves rustling in the gentle breeze—create a serene backdrop for your discussion.

"How about a trip to Japan?" you suggest, your gaze following a butterfly as it flutters gracefully by. "We could see the cherry blossoms in full bloom and stay in a traditional ryokan."

Jihoon’s eyes light up, and he nods with a smile. "That sounds perfect. Maybe next spring?"

"Definitely, next spring," you reply, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "It’s a promise."

You pause beside a serene pond, nestled like a hidden gem among the trees. The water’s surface is a flawless reflection of the sky’s soft blue, only disturbed by the occasional ripple created by ducks gliding smoothly across. Their gentle movements create a tranquil, rhythmic pattern that seems to harmonize with the rustling leaves overhead. Nearby, a charming bronze sculpture catches Jihoon’s eye—a whimsical figure of a child with outstretched arms, captured in an eternal moment of joy.

Jihoon’s eyes light up with a nostalgic twinkle, the warmth of his gaze reflecting his fondness for the place. “Every time we come here, it’s like discovering a new layer of this park’s personality. It feels like it holds little secrets just for us.”

You smile, letting out a soft, affectionate chuckle. “It’s one of those places that seems to change every time you visit. There’s always something new to notice.”

Jihoon’s expression turns contemplative, a trace of nostalgia softening his features. “Do you remember our first visit here?”

Your smile deepens as a tender warmth fills your heart. “I remember you managed to get us completely turned around, and we ended up racing home in the pouring rain. You kept insisting we were just ‘exploring new paths.’”

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “I didn’t get us lost! We were ‘exploring new routes.’ And besides, the rain made it better. We were drenched, but you still managed to look incredible.”

You nudge him playfully, a playful grin on your face. “Right, I was the epitome of soaked chic... But it was worth it. We came back home, took a hot bath together... I still have the photo of you wrapped in towels, you know?”

Jihoon groans, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You kept that?”

“Of course I did,” you reply, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s right next to the one where you’re wearing that ridiculously oversized apron.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Oh, don’t remind me! I had no idea flour could cause such chaos.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand with a shared sense of amusement. “It was one of the few times I was actually grateful for the fire extinguisher. But honestly, those moments are some of my favorites.”

Jihoon shakes his head, still chuckling. “I should be offended by your collection of embarrassing photos. But I have to admit, they do make for great stories.”

“They do,” you say, leaning in closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “And you looked incredibly cute in both of them.”

Jihoon’s cheeks flush a tender pink at your compliment. He tries to mask his embarrassment by leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The kiss is gentle and filled with a sweet affection that sends a flutter through your heart.

When he pulls back slightly, his eyes sparkle with a playful warmth. “Well, if I’m cute, I guess I’ll just have to accept it,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

You reach up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, the touch intimate and affectionate. “You’ll have to accept it, and maybe start avoiding those memorable disasters.”

Jihoon laughs, his hand finding yours again, their fingers intertwining with ease. “Oh, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, I think you secretly enjoy our little escapades.”

You squeeze his hand, feeling the strength of your connection grow deeper. “Maybe I do.”

You lean in for another kiss, savoring the warmth and softness of his lips against yours. As you pull away, both of you laugh softly, the sound blending with the peaceful ambiance of the park. The vibrant surroundings seem to echo the joy and affection between you, creating a perfect backdrop for your ongoing journey together.

Later on, as you meander through the cozy aisles of the bookstore, the atmosphere envelops you in a nostalgic embrace. The scent of aged paper and ink fills the air, mingling with the subtle murmur of pages being turned—a soft, soothing symphony that enhances the serene ambiance of the space. Shelves upon shelves of books create a labyrinth of literary wonders, each volume whispering its own story.

Jihoon, his eyes alight with curiosity, reaches for a book with a richly embossed cover and pulls it from the shelf. “Look at this one,” he says, holding it out to you. “It’s a collection of Greek myths. This is the book you used to love, right?”

You take the book from him, feeling the textured cover beneath your fingers. The spine creaks gently as you open it, revealing the delicate pages within. “Yes, I did. My grandmother used to read these stories to me before bed,” you reply, your voice tinged with fond memories.

Jihoon leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “To think you were obsessed with me even back then,” he teases with a playful smile, peering over your shoulder at the illustrations and text.

You smile, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “Shut up,” you mutter with a playful tone. “Besides, I liked the Pegasus myth the most.”

He chuckles softly, a hint of mock exasperation in his voice. “Are you going to make me compete with a winged horse? What do you see in him that you don’t see in me?”

“Oh, stop it!” you laugh, flipping through the pages with a light-hearted gesture. “I just always found these stories fascinating. They were comforting, somehow.”

Jihoon’s playful demeanor softens, and his gaze turns tender as he gently places his hand over yours, his fingers lightly brushing against yours on the fine pages. “Then let’s get it. We can read them together… maybe pass on the tradition?”

You nod, your heart swelling with warmth at his thoughtful gesture. “I’d like that.”

The notion of starting a family has gently hovered on the periphery of your conversations, like a delicate, unspoken promise. It's a subject often delicately sidestepped in favor of addressing more immediate concerns, with the complexities of melding mortal and divine lives remaining a largely unexplored territory. Yet, Jihoon’s casual mention of passing on traditions stirs something deep within you—a whirlwind of dreams and possibilities wrapped in the warmth of tender, hopeful light.

As you both continue to browse through the bookstore, your thoughts drift to the future and the idea of nurturing a family together. The image of little ones running around, their laughter echoing through your home, begins to take shape in your mind. You envision how magical it would be to pass on stories of ancient myths, like the ones in the book Jihoon holds, to a new generation. These children could grow up hearing tales of gods and heroes, their lives intertwined with the rich tapestry of both mortal and divine worlds.

You imagine the joys and challenges of parenthood—how Jihoon would be a loving, albeit perhaps somewhat protective, father. You picture him sharing stories of his own experiences, creating a blend of wisdom and wonder for your future children. You think of the warmth of family gatherings, the shared laughter, and the little traditions you might create together, all grounded in the love and unity you share.

Jihoon's offhand remark about passing on traditions feels like a doorway opening to new possibilities, each one more enchanting than the last. As you both select books that reflect your shared tastes and interests, you feel the excitement of these future possibilities growing. The weight of the books in your arms seems symbolic of the future you're envisioning—a future that feels rich with potential and brimming with love.

As you head home, the golden rays of the afternoon sun filter through the trees, casting a warm, rosy glow across the sky. The gentle caress of the sun’s embrace wraps around you both, infusing the day with a serene and hopeful atmosphere. With each step, you find yourself daydreaming about the life you might build together—a life where the love and dreams you share become the foundation for a new chapter filled with the joy of family and the fulfillment of long-held aspirations.

As the evening settles into a serene hush, you and Jihoon find yourselves cocooned together on the plush couch, enveloped in the soft embrace of a cozy blanket. The room is bathed in the gentle glow of a muted TV screen, its light casting a warm, amber hue that mingles with the soft illumination of a nearby lamp. The air is filled with the subtle hum of background music, creating a soothing symphony that underscores the tranquil ambiance.

You and Jihoon, having eagerly awaited the release of this new movie, now savor the comfort of this intimate moment. You lean gently against him, your cheek resting against the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rhythmic heartbeat beneath your ear is a familiar and comforting pulse, grounding you in a sense of profound contentment.

In the quiet intimacy of the dimly lit room, Jihoon’s touch is tender and affectionate. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head. The kiss is a silent promise, a gentle reassurance that transcends words. His hand moves with practiced ease over your arm, tracing delicate, soothing circles that seem to erase the day’s fatigue and envelop you in a cocoon of serenity.

The world outside seems to blur and fade, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of love and peace. The movie plays in the background, its muted colors and subdued soundtrack a mere backdrop to the profound connection you share. You are wholly absorbed in the simple joy of being together, relishing the quiet and precious closeness that defines this moment.

Every shared glance, every unspoken word, deepens the bond between you. It is in these small, tender gestures that you discover the true depth of your affection—an understanding that goes beyond words, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence. You realize how deeply you cherish these peaceful evenings, where time slows, and all that matters is the warmth of Jihoon’s embrace and the serenity of being together.

“I love you,” Jihoon whispers, his voice a gentle caress that fills the space between you with a tender warmth.

You lift your gaze to meet his, your eyes reflecting a world of emotions that words cannot capture. “I love you, too."

As the movie’s credits roll and the room grows dim, you and Jihoon linger on the couch, savoring the last moments of your quiet evening together. The gentle hum of the TV becomes a soft murmur, blending seamlessly with the soothing sounds of your shared breaths and the rhythmic thump of Jihoon’s heartbeat.

Jihoon stretches lazily, wrapping an arm around you as he begins to stand. “Do you want to head to bed?” he asks, his voice a tender murmur, his eyes still reflecting the warmth of the evening.

You nod, your smile a silent agreement as you rise from the couch. The blanket drapes over your shoulders like a comforting embrace as you follow Jihoon toward the bedroom. The walk is slow and unhurried, each step infused with a peaceful contentment.

Once in the bedroom, Jihoon turns down the covers with practiced ease, his movements gentle and considerate. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light over the room, creating a haven of tranquility. You slip into bed first, savoring the cool, crisp sheets that contrast with the lingering warmth of the evening. Jihoon joins you shortly after, his presence a comforting weight beside you.

You both settle into the bed, your bodies naturally aligning as if they’ve done so countless times before. Jihoon wraps his arms around you, pulling you close until you can feel the steady, soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. The proximity is intimate, each touch and sigh a testament to the deep connection you share.

“Goodnight, my love,” Jihoon whispers, his breath warm against your ear.

You turn slightly in his embrace, your face nestled against his chest. “Goodnight."

The world outside fades away, leaving only the cocoon of your shared warmth and the soothing cadence of your breaths mingling in the quiet.

As sleep begins to take you, Jihoon’s fingers gently stroke your arm, each touch a silent declaration of his love. “I love you,” he whispers again, as if to make sure that you really know it, his voice barely audible as he too begins to drift off.

“I love you, too,” you reply softly, your words merging with the soft sounds of the night. “Always.”

Wrapped in each other’s arms, you both surrender to the peaceful embrace of sleep, the world outside remaining distant and irrelevant. In the stillness of the night, you find solace and joy in the certainty of your bond, drifting into dreams with hearts full and souls entwined.

feedback is always appreciated!

taglist: @enhacolor, @shuabby1994, @junhui-recs, @dkakapizzaboy, @just-here-to-read-01, @loviehan, @userjunhuii, @novalpha, @bubblymoon, @aaniag, @d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @seunghancore, @woozixo, @niktwazny303, @lllucere, @uniq-tastic, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy, @hyneyedfiz, @cali-snow, @crazywittysassy, @yeosayang, @wonuvs, @dokyeomkyeom, @kyeomiis, @gyuguys, @notevenheretbh1

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, shoot, sorry. Go back to sleep. Sorry.”

Nico shifts, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. The light in the infirmary is low, and strangely soothing. It’s almost hard to keep his eyes open. But he manages, rubbing his knuckles under the curve of his eyesockets, and searches in the dark until he finds what woke him up.

Will stands a couple feet away from his bed, figure curled and shadowy, owlish eyes wide and almost unnaturally reflective in the dark.

“‘S’okay,” he mumbles. “Couldn’t really sleep anyway.”

“Oh.” There’s a shuffling sound, and suddenly Nico feels warmer where Will has stepped closer. “You in pain?“

“No. Just bad at sleeping.”

“Hey, me too.”

Surprise at Will’s easy admission and a little bit starstruck at the bright flash of Will’s grin, Nico doesn’t have the chance to beat himself up over being so flippantly open. His teeth seemed to glow as much as the whites of his eyes, which would be creepy, except it’s hard to feel anything but calm as a cool night breeze wafts the scent of lavender from the sill planters in every inch of the infirmary, and it’s hard to think of Will as anything but warm. Especially the hand he places, briefly, on the curve of Nico’s knee.

“Insomnia?”

“Something like that.”

“Still. Sorry for waking you up.”

Nico hums, fiddling with his skull ring. “Why were you up, anyway?”

“Oh, I won’t have time to sleep for another couple days.”

There’s a mellow cracking sound, and then all of Will’s knuckles begin to glow a soft, sunset yellow. Nico startles.

“Apollo thing,” Will explains. A smirk is now visible at the corner of his mouth, forcing a dimple on his right cheek. In his hands, almost hard to see under the glow, are three small vials of something Nico doesn’t recognize. “Getting meds and salves in order.”

Hesitantly, Nico drags his gaze away from the clinking glass bottles, forcing himself to meet Will’s eyes. They’re ridiculously bright. Is that an Apollo thing, too?

“Why does that mean you can’t sleep?”

Will gestures to the myriad of occupied beds outside the curtains Nico has pulled up. “Shitton of injured, man. I got way more people than I got stuff. I prepped for the Romans beforehand, obviously, but I didn’t have a good hand on their numbers and didn’t prep enough. I’m short on supplies. Haven’t slept since Gaea did.” At Nico’s look of alarm, he quickly assures, “But don’t worry, I had Cecil brew me something strong. It’s disgusting, so I think it might be his Coffee Redbull Matcha Heartstopper Special, With A Shot Of Crushed Caffeine Pills For Good Measure, but I’m not sure. Hands are only a little shakey, though, feel.”

In a mirror of a few days ago (fuck, Nico hopes he’s kidding; how long can people go without sleep?), he darts out and rests his hands under Nico’s. Sure enough, they’re trembling, although nothing nearly as bad as before.

“Dangerous levels of sleep deprivation aren’t as bad as delivering a baby, huh.”

Will shudders. “Don’t even joke.”

He looks so genuinely horrified that Nico can’t help but laugh. All they’ve seen, all they’ve suffered — and golden boy is gagging at the miracle of life. If Nico wasn’t so sure that he’d seen at least as many gory nightmares as Nico, if not more, he’d tease him for being squeamish.

…Actually.

“What kind of school nurse wannabe is squidged out by birth?”

“Nurse?” Will squawks, snatching his hands away (Nico finds his own hands, strangely and suddenly, cold). “I didn’t go to seven years of med school to be called a school nurse wannabe!”

Nico narrows his eyes. “You didn’t go to med school. You’re fifteen.”

“As I said.” He grins teasingly. “I didn’t go.”

It takes Nico a second, but when he gets it he cannot physically hold himself back from kicking him. Solace, weak from muffled laughter, stumbles sideways into a lamp.

“Ay! Be careful, you wanna kill the camp’s only brain surgeon?”

“If he’s being annoying,” Nico bites back. He can’t quite stop smiling, and he’s embarrassed about it, but thankfully the darkness hides his face. “There’s no way you’ve done brain surgery.”

The shitty cot Nico’s been coerced into camping on for the next three days creaks as Will perches on the edge of it.

“Have so. In the woods, two years ago, removed a brain tumour. Stressful as shit.” He flashes another sideways grin. “Couple dozen more medical emergencies under my belt, and I might actually be as qualified as a nurse in this country’s garbage medical system. Thank the gods for them, honestly. They do a shit lot more than a lot of doctors claim to.”

Sensing the topic change for what it is, Nico doesn’t press any further. “That what you wanna do?”

“Aw, man, I don’t even want to think about it. The idea of someone else running this infirmary gives me a stress ulcer. Y’all do a lot of stupid shit and frankly some of the procedures I have performed exist in no medical textbooks anywhere, medical or no.” He snorts. “Anyways.”

His hands are blazingly warm again, almost like sun through a maginifying glass, when they pat his shin twice. He stands, stretching — more bursts of light appearing along the length of his spine, lighting what his fading knuckles leave out.

“Try to sleep again, Neeks. You’ll need it.”

“Maybe I should be the one to say that to you,” Nico says. Will waves his hand dismissively, and in a fit of impulse Nico reaches out and grabs it, meeting his raised eyebrow with a stubborn set to his jaw. “I mean it, Will. No one’s awake right now. I just woke up. Why don’t you crash for an hour or so? I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Will hesitates. “If anything happens, that’s on me. It — I can’t let it be on me.”

“Do you trust me?”

Stupid question. Of course Will doesn’t trust him, Nico let someone die in front of his eyes, Nico is the bringer of death and darkness, why would he —

“Yeah.” Will sighs. Nico looks up, startled, but the medic is eyeing one of the few spare cots, face screwed up in consideration. “You’ll wake me?”

“Immediately,” Nico assures hastily. He nods his head at the bunk next to him. “Sleep, man. You look like you need it.”

“Oh, well, just what I’ve always wanted to hear from you. You look stunning, by the way.”

Nico knows it’s a joke, but he flushes anyway. Thank Hades again for the dark infirmary, and the length of his hair.

“Whatever. Sleep or don’t.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

In seconds he’s out of his flip-flops, slightly-scratchy blankets turned up and wrapped tightly around him all the way up to his neck.

“Thanks, Nico. I owe you.”

In the next breath, he’s out, all that’s visible of him the flutter of his light eyelashes and the tangled mop of blond hair. He snores, slightly, with every puffed exhale; a tiny, stuttered sound, not unlike a cat. It’s kind of cute, and Nico’s smiling before he realising.

“You don’t owe anybody shit.” He shakes his head fondly, leaning back onto his pillows to keep an eye out. “Goodnight, Will.”

[hypnos333]

The Sun kiss

Apollo x Goddess Reader

Synopsis: You and Apollo are different in a lot of ways, moon and sun never went together until it did.

You tended the moon with your very being, most times you don’t have too because you have moon Nymphs for that but most times you like to do it yourself.

They were not meant to be romantic, they were just meant to be. All Apollos teasing and flirting really did flatter you. He was the god of the Sun and such and You were the goddess of the Moon and epitome of enigma. Your appearance match it too. Your moon like freckles with his sun-kissed looks goes perfectly well together and Apollo imagined this all the time.

You both made the sun and moon meet every once every while to see each other again.

You always admire him at dawn just to see him pull the sun up. And you always find it hot every time he does pull the sun up.

Every time he kisses you, your freckles glow brighter and then turn to a bright sun color instead of its original white. His kisses make you feel a certain way, a brighter feeling.

You always remember an argument that occurred, you forgot the reason but something Apollo said sticked out to you.

“Don’t you get it? You and me… We’re the same baby” Apollo argued making you gaped at him in disbelief

“No. Do you know what the difference is between us? I am full on darkness and silence and you are filled with light and happiness” You snap back crossing your arms.

“Oh my muse, I wish you can see what I see” He said in a gentle tone making you confused. Before shaking your head and turning to go handle the moon before midnight.

We’re the same… The sun kiss makes you different in a lot of ways, It makes you glow, your freckles more. So you went to test that theory, You pulled him into a kiss longer than usual making your freckles now half white half orange sunrise color.

“What the fuck” You said before looking at your form, you were confused. You felt different than before and Apollo knew why.

“Baby you are now in control of the sunset and sunrise with my help of course” He said making you look at him in curiosity.

“So I can touch the sun now?” You asked making him nod in excitement. “Of course my Muse” He answered excitedly.

“You can continue leading the moon though, I would never take your deity away but now you have another one to own with yours truly” Apollo explained Confidently. Making you pull him in another kiss.

“Thank you” You mumbled making his smile in a love sick way.

Anything for you, My Muse” He said back going in for another kiss

[girlkisser13]

apollo cabin headcanons

children of apollo

• apollo claims his children with a radiant golden aura with "we will rock you" playing triumphantly in the background.

• they are all born with a golden ring around the iris of their eye.

• many, if not all of them are born around sunrise and die around sunset.

• whenever there's a day that the sun isn't shining, it means a child of apollo has died and the sun god is mourning them.

• sometimes, someone will sing a random note, and then everyone around them will harmonize with them.

• the infirmary is always so HECTIC. like they all have insanely good accuracy so they’re just constantly throwing medical supplies at each other.

• they’re experts at hiding earbuds under their clothes so that teachers don’t see them.

• they’re all really sensitive to sounds. every tune that is off-key is the equivalent of a fork scrapping against a plate.

• their adhd is worse than most demigods because they can’t stand silence. long testing periods where you have to be silent are absolute torture for them.

• they all have some form of synesthesia.

• it’s harder for them to get sick compared to other demigods but when they do, it’s a mess. they take a lot longer to recover from the sickness.

• they’re always awake at the crack ass of dawn. not because they’re the children of apollo, but because apollo plays loud rock music every morning at a frequency that only his kids can hear.

• they’re basically roosters.

• they all have perfect pitch (they can tell what a note is just by hearing it).

• not all of them are good healers but there are certain times when it is mandatory for all children of apollo to be working in the infirmary.

• these times are mostly during and after war, an outbreak of a highly contagious disease, or after a particularly violent game of capture the flag.

• those who can't heal cut bandages, hand things to their siblings, and comfort scared patients.

• during the winter they always have the feeling of the warm sun shining on their skin even if it isn't there.

• as cool as they try to act, they are all shakespeare enthusiasts and can't help but quote it if you get them started.

• twins are common in the cabin since it sort of runs in the family.

• they’re ready for a musical number at any time. like one of them can yell the first note of a song and everyone else will join in.

• because artemis has her hunters, apollo tends to have more sons than daughters (it evens things out). when a daughter of apollo arrives to camp, her brothers are super overprotective over her.

• they’re known for replying to things with song lyrics.

• those who are musically inclined had formed an acapella group called the acapollos.

• they are completely terrified of the dark, due to their father being the god of light.

• they don't hate the dark itself— they're afraid of what they can't see, resulting in each of them having night lights above their beds. these night lights are shaped like the sun.

• they tend to glow when they’re near their crush or favorite person. the stronger the feelings are, the brighter the light is.

• they have secret late night jam sessions with lyres, pan flutes, and tambourines that can go all night. apollo listens in with a magic radio whenever they happen.

cabin exterior

• the cabin is bathed in a soft, golden glow, reminiscent of sunlight. this effect is most pronounced at sunrise and sunset, symbolizing apollo's dominion over the sun.

• the walls are adorned with intricate sun motifs and celestial designs, depicting various phases of the sun, stars, and constellations.

• musical notes and lyres are carved into the woodwork, reflecting apollo's role as the god of music. wind chimes made of delicate metals hang from the eaves, creating a harmonious melody when the breeze blows.

• quivers of arrows and archery targets are prominently displayed around the exterior.

• golden and yellow flowering vines, such as sunflowers and marigolds, climb the cabin walls, adding a natural touch and symbolizing the sun's life-giving energy.

• the architecture features clean lines and an open, airy design, with large windows to let in plenty of sunlight, creating a bright and welcoming atmosphere.

• one wall is dedicated to a mural depicting scenes of various prophecies, showcasing apollo's gift of foresight. the mural changes and updates itself magically as new prophecies are made.

cabin interior

• various musical instruments, such as lyres, guitars, and harps, are scattered around the cabin. there are also dedicated spaces for practice and impromptu jam sessions, complete with sheet music stands and comfortable seating.

• the walls are adorned with paintings and murals created by the campers. these artworks depict scenes from mythology, portraits of famous musicians, and abstract representations of music and light.

• the interior decor uses a warm color palette of golds, yellows, and oranges, creating a sunny and cheerful ambiance. the furnishings are made of light-colored woods, adding to the bright and airy feel.

• one wall is dedicated to a large blackboard or whiteboard where campers can jot down lyrics, poems, and song ideas. this serves as a collaborative space for creativity and inspiration.

• several small, soundproof practice rooms are available for campers to practice their instruments, sing, or record music without disturbing others.

• a corner of the cabin is dedicated to repairing and maintaining musical instruments. it is equipped with tools, spare parts, and workbenches for campers who enjoy the technical side of music.

• the cabin is designed with excellent acoustics, ensuring that music sounds rich and vibrant. this makes the entire cabin feel like a resonant chamber, enhancing the musical experience.

cabin traditions

• on the winter solstice, they stay up all night so they can see their dad and all celebrate by saying "welcome back!"

• they have a weekly archery challenges among themselves with rotating themes, like shooting while blindfolded, hitting moving targets, or shooting from unconventional angles.

• they have an annual slam poetry competition in june when everyone is back at camp.

• the cabin regularly holds workshops on different aspects of healing, from herbal remedies to more magical techniques. they often team up with the demeter cabin for plant-based healing knowledge.

• they organizes an annual talent show open to all campers. it’s a fun, light-hearted competition where everyone can showcase their skills, whether it's music, archery, healing, or something completely unexpected.

divider by @samspenandsword

[aphroditeinthesea]

will solace x chaotic daughter of dionysus reader where he's the responsible one thats like "don't do that. you'll die" and reader's like "yeah whatever" ?

" long story short i survived "

will solace x reader ☀️

three times when y/n was crazy and three times when will loved her anyway

tw none

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ 𖤓 ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

“Funny meeting you here,” was all Will heard as he walked past a room in the infirmary. He stopped in his tracks and peered into the room. There, lying on a bed, was his girlfriend.

“Y/N,” he spoke as he entered the room, “what happened?” Concern filled his voice, but at the same time, he couldn't be too worried. After all, her winding up in the infirmary was a common occurrence.

“Silly story actually, you're gonna laugh,” she prefaced, “so, you know how there’s like archery practice?”

He nodded along, “I pretty much know the concept.”

“Good, that's good,” she continued, “so there was this really crazy looking bug like you should've seen it, and then-”

“Please don't say what I think you're about to say.”

She aggressively nodded, “if you think I’m about to say that I accidentally walked into the middle of an archery practice and got shot in the foot, then I’ll just say quiet.”

“Y/N,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “can you go one day without almost dying?”

“Is that rhetorical? Because I don't appreciate that, Will Solace.”

He laughed, he leaned closer to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I’d just like to not be worried about you 25/8.”

“Twenty-five eight, really?”

“Will!” Someone yelled from the hall.

“Coming!” He called back before turning back to the girl, “I love you, don't die,” he quickly kissed her before rushing out of the room.

It was late at night, not even two days later, that y/n ran into cabin seven, slamming the door behind her. Several of Apollo’s children gave her strange looks, except for Will, who only looked confused.

“Y/N?”

She smiled, making her way over to him, “Willy!”

“Willy?” He questioned with a laugh.

She sat on his freshly made bed, “I need to stay in your cabin tonight.”

“As fun as getting in trouble for you sounds,” he began, sitting beside her, “can you at least tell me why?”

“Funny story-”

“Is it actually though?”

She bit her lip and looked away, “for spectators, not victims,” she answered, “basically, Annabeth let me borrow this book and I forgot about it and then I accidentally spilled orange juice all over it, so I left iron the doorstep of the Athena cabin and I’m gonna wait until she notices, where then she will ultimately try to kill me dead.”

“Rather than kill you alive?” One of his siblings interjected.

“Kill you alive blah blah,” y/n muttered in a mocking voice.

Will chuckled, placing a comforting hand on her back, “you can stay. Only because I’m also scared of Annabeth.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips, "you're the best.”

Another day, during Capture the Flag, y/n had decided to climb a tree, being too tired to actually participate in the game. However, she hadn't actually put into consideration how she was going to get down.

“Y/N?” she heard the all too familiar voice from the ground.

She looked down to find Will standing with his sister, Kayla. “Hey, sweetheart. Hi, Kayla,” she waved down.

“What are you doing?” Kayla called up.

“It’s a funny story actually-”

“I really don’t think it’s gonna be,” Will mentioned.

Y/N huffed, “I’m about to come down, one second,” she stood on the branch, about to jump down.

“Y/N, Baby,” He yelled, “as a doctor, I can tell you the chances of you not breaking a bone are close to none.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve done this before.”

“That actually makes it worse, y/n.”

She prepared herself to jump down despite the yell of the two children of Apollo and several other campers who had come over to watch the spectacle. She took a deep breath and leaped off of the branch.

You could think that this was one of those things where she jumped and landed in Will’s arms and like rode into the sunset or whatever. It kinda was like that actually, except might have landed on Will’s arm instead. The left one specifically.

“I guess you could say you fell for me,” she giggled, beginning to stand up. She grabbed his hand to help him up too.

“I’m actually surprised we’re both still alive.”

“I told you it would be fine, you worry too much, love.”

[chrispywhispy]

Sunset

Non fandom post, I’d like to think Apollo shines one last time when the sun sets and goes to sleep so his sister Artemis can take over :3

[visiodeii]

hi June✨

Got my new deck so I took my puppy to a walk & read a bit with Apollo

I am getting married this year, as much as I love my hubbie it’s bit scary to look at the future. I wanna make it/us work!

I was filled with worry today as I was waiting for our Wedding invitations. So Apollo kindly showed me the ten of cups. It washed all my worries away

he is honestly the best & I am so grateful to be able to work with him ✨🌞

i just asked him for a general message

[psychesalcove]

„ but I'm in so deep, you know I'm such a fool for you ”

𝜗𝜚 percy jackson x child of apollo reader

synopsis: percy invites you to spend a evening at camp by the lake with him. and, you definitely do not have any feelings for him. nope, not at all. he just has a really cute smile, thats all.

⚠️: reader not admiting she likes percy, kayla being sick of reader not admiting her feelings, percy being a dork as usual, small mention of will being a protective brother, percy making atrocious ocean jokes, super soft percy twords the end, not proofread AT ALL, percy getting pushed into water

requested: yes, by swifthazed (accidentally deleted the request but hope you enjoy!!)

"he's definitely going to be asking you out," your sibling, kayla mused as the two of you watched percy leave through the doors of the infirmary.

you rolled your eyes at her comment as you turned around and went back over to the cabnit that stored bandaids. "im sure he is kayla," you said sarcastically, grabbing a box of my little pony bandaids. "there's probably gonna be other people there, not just us."

percy had come marching into the infirmary, no doubt scaring the younger camper sitting right by the door. at first, both you and kayla thought that he or someone else got hurt, but when he asked for you to join him at the lake later in the evening, your thoughts were proven wrong.

"oh please, did you not see the way he was blushing and avoiding eye contact with you? and, he didn't say anyone else would be there. he said, and i quote, "would you want to go to the lake with me later today, just to yknow, hangout" kayla repeated the words of percy while doing air quotes.

"i don't even like him like that kayla, and again, no way he's asking me out. he'll probably ask annabeth out if anything." you replied, walking over to the younger camper, who you believed was a child of hermes, and applied the bandaid on a small cut she had gotten doing who knows what.

"im sorry, did you just say you don't even like him? honey, not to break it to you, but if you're talking about him at breakfast, lunch, dinner, in the infirmary, in our cabin, im pretty sure you like him." kayla said in a deadpan tone, crossing her arms and smirking lightly at you.

you rolled your eyes at her once again as you quickly ducked your head down so she didn't see the shade of pink now tinting your cheeks. "you should be all set, and, try not to get hurt again, okay?" you advised the demigod, who gave you a couple of firm nods in response before running out the door.

"i'll tell will to take over your shift this evening, so y'know, you can get a boyfriend," kayla said. she started walking away tword other patients before you could get a chance to object.

ᝰ

percy came to get you later in the evening at the apollo cabin. you saw him through the front window of the cabin, recognizing his silhouette even with the hyacinth flowers overtaking majority of the outside view.

you quickly walked twords the door of the cabin before will could start interrogating percy and embarrassing both percy and you. kayla gave you a quick thumbs up before you headed out the door, mouthing 'go get your boyfriend ' to you.

percy was waiting at the bottom of the short case of stairs when you walked out. his face immediately lit up and he smiled at you. "hope i didn't come to early?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the sun setting. "just figured this would be considered evening, because, well, the sun is setting?" he said.

you chuckled lightly at his rambling. "is perfect timing, percy," you walked down the stairs and met him at the bottom.

"well, i guess we should get down to the lake, it's always pretty during sunset time, yknow?" he said as he started to walk in the direction of the lake.

"i do know percy, and so does everyone at camp," you joked, referring to the comment he just made as you started following him. you saw him roll his eyes playfully at you before he changed his pace and started running.

"last one to the lake is a pufferfish!" he yelled behind to you.

ᝰ

"well, running isn't really my specialty," percy said to you out of breath. he, somehow, ended up behind you when running to the lake; even though he had a huge head start to you.

"mhm, sure." you said crossing your arms as you looked at him smugly. "guess you're a pufferfish then," you joked, your face shifting to a more soft look as you saw him smile. he did have a really cute smile.

"guess so," he hummed, his breath finally coming back to him. "wanna head down to the dock?" he said, tilting his head in the direction of it. you smiled and nodded your head, following percy, who had already started walking away.

even though you knew the lake was bueatiful during sunset, you always forgot just how bueatiful it really was. with your shifts in the infirmary, the lessons, and everything else, you sometimes forgot that you could hang out at the lake.

"it's really pretty, isn't it," you mused, looking out to the far ends of the water as you sat down next to percy at the end of the dock. you saw percy nod his head in agreement, but didn't see how his eyes were on you and not the glistening water.

you just then realized how hot it felt being directly in the sun, so you quickly untied your low top converse you had on and put your feet into the water. "ykow you could just,go into the water if you're hot," percy said as he looked at you.

"you also realize that i'm not a son of poseiden who's immune to getting wet, right?" you laughed, looking back at percy who just blushed and starting looking down into the water. from the corner of your eye, you saw percy wipe his hands on his cargo shorts, before moving his hand to be close to yours. not exactly touching, but close to.

you heard percy take a deep breath that he was obviously trying to be quiet about, before you felt a comforting heat over the top of your hand. you moved your head so you could look at percy, and, surprisingly, he wasn't looking into the water,but he was looking at you. percys hand was laying on top of yours, not holding it but just resting there.

"so, uhm.." percy started. you noticed a small shake in his voice, so you nodded your head lightly to show that your full attention was on him. "gods this is going to sound so weird, but, ive been thinking for a while and, while i'm not the best at, well, anything, I think I finally understand what I feel when I'm with you," he countined, smiling softly as the two made eye contact.

"you make me feel like i'm actually important, like, important for who i am. and not what i've done, or what i stand for. i feel like a lot of people only think of me as the kid with a big prophecy and all that. they don't think of me as percy. but, i think you do," percy said, moving his hand that was ontop of yours so that your hands were now interlocked with eachother.

"obviously, that's not the only good thing about you. gods, no. i don't even know if i could list everything i love about you. there's so many things I adore about you. i mean, you help people so much every single day in the infirmary, i see you play guitar at the campfire and I don't think I've ever seen anyone play that well, and during capture the flag you just look amazing in your armor with your bow, not that you don't look good other days, you look amazing every single day, even if I can tell that you're tired or something, you still never fail to be so bueatiful and–" percy stopped his rambling, his eyes quickly moving down to your lips.

he looked back up into your eyes, silently asking if he could kiss you. you, even in your dazed state after hearing what percy said to you, about you, you nodded your head and smiled lightly at him.

the kiss would probably forever be the best kiss you'll ever had. you've never kissed anyone before, unless it was one of your siblings, and on the cheek or head only. but when you and percys lip collied, it did feel like the world stopped right then and there.

it wasn't a forceful or aggressive kiss in any way. it was soft but hesitant at first, both of you testing out the waters with each other. it showed all the love you shared for one another and how both of you had been longing for the other, longer than either of you would like to admit.

you pulled away first, wanting to respond to what percy had said earlier. percy chased for your lips once you moved, but quickly went back to where he was before when his brain caught up with him.

before you could say anything he said, "so, uhm. would you wanna be my girlfriend? i mean, if that's too soon we can always just go on a date first, or something, i really don't care, but ..i assume you feel the same way?" he rambled, once again.

you laughed and shook your head at him. "oh yeah, kissing someone is definitely not saying you feel the same way about someone" you joked, lightly pushing your sholder into his.

"and yes, percy, of course i'll be your girlfriend." you said, smiling fondly at the son of poseiden who you could now call yours.

percy smiled, allowing the biggest grin you had ever seen someone make to be on display. his smile was really cute, now that you think about it. really shouldn't mention that to kayla, you thought, making a mental note in your head for later.

"so, now that we're like boyfriend and girlfriend.." he started, already giggling slightly. you raised an eyebrow, but signaled for him to countine.

"are we on a beach?" he asked, "because i find you sand-sational, " he said, now fully laughing at his own pick-up line he just used on you.

a loud splash filled the summer evening air, along with a loud screech, only some would recognize as percy.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏: ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕍𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 ℝ𝕠𝕞𝕖 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent goes back to his old life in Rome as if nothing happened. But there's Chidi, at his side, the one thing Vincent doesn't want to forget from the last few months. And it's causing complications...especially with Santino.

TW: grief, nightmares, PTSD, drug use, hypersexuality, stalking, jealousy, withdrawing consent during sex (and the response to the “no” is scary, although there’s no assault), attempted kidnapping, knife wound, concussion, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Author's Note: The title is a callback to that line in one of the first chapters, in which Chidi wonders how Vincent lived in Rome - bonus points if you remembered!

Fine. Good and done with. Vincent was strong again.

It was better to forget all of it. That bloodied thing that he could not recognize reflected in the mirrors outside the ballroom. The words coming through the intercom. The time in the hospital. Even the coronation. That was worst of all, perhaps. The disappointment in himself, in the way that perfect day had felt so hollow… No, no, no, just forget any of it had happened. And to Vincent’s great relief, his mind blanked it all mercifully away. There was a gaping hole at the center of him where he dared not tread, but that was better than dealing with it. He could even talk about it, very easily, just as he had done at the ball with everybody. As long as he didn’t feel it, he could talk about it. This was the way one recovered from grief, he decided. One day, one simply decided to stop being a baby.

Yes, he was just going back to Italy after a few days away, and everything would be normal. “Il palazzo,” as he called it, was the quaintest, pleasantest place anyone could imagine living, and he would thoroughly enjoy it. It was humble by the Marquis' standards, but still very comfortable, and fully staffed with maids and a cook. He’d made it every bit as lavish as might suit him, while being a little less stuffy than Versailles. There was an abundance of French furniture with a Roman twist, in sunset gradients from pink to burgundy, with gilding glittering at the edges of everything. There was statuary in honor of Bacchus and Apollo. There was a full bar in the parlor where Vincent was sure to entertain guests as often as he could. There was some obscure art piece or trinket in almost every room, gifted from suitors. He would walk by the river in the mornings, with one of those suitors on his arm, and have luncheons with Gianna to talk business. And sneak off with Santino, not to come back until morning. What happened in between was…generally something of a blur.

In Rome, he didn’t feel quite as unsafe as he did in the estate. He had learned to navigate this city on his own – always guarded, yes, but giving the guards the slip long enough to do a line unseen. The Myrmidons didn’t have the slightest idea about his activities…well, maybe the slightest idea, but they couldn’t prove anything. In the past, Vincent had made sure of that because they reported to his – no. No. Nothing happened. Don’t think in that direction.

There was one problem with this perfect plan, and its name was Chidi. He had absolutely no desire nor ability to forget Chidi. And it was Chidi who carried his broken body out of that bloodbath, it was Chidi who held him together in the weeks afterwards. It was Chidi who stood up for him at the coronation, and then swayed with him in an empty side room, leading him with unexpectedly graceful steps and an exhilarating hand pressed to his waist. Chidi was inextricably tied to everything that had happened to him, everything he had suffered, lacing every poisoned memory with something too sweet to spit out. Chidi had seen all of it, dealt with all of it, and now he haunted Vincent, reminding him of every moment. Vincent found that it was becoming difficult even to look at his bodyguard. A mixture of shame and hope and…something hung over Chidi, making him unbearably beautiful.

So, when they arrived at the precious Il Palazzo, Vincent assigned him a room on the lower floor, not adjacent to his own. It was much finer than the servant quarters. It was the finest of any room in the house except Vincent’s, in fact. But they absolutely had to sleep separately. He was not a child, nor was he a lover. What was acceptable in grief was no longer acceptable once one was done grieving. And Vincent was done grieving, thank you very much. He could sleep very well on his own, and he would need his privacy. Chidi made no protest.

Thus it began. Forcing his eyes to close in an unfriendly darkness. Waking up in cold sweats at three AM until he learned to fear sleep more than exhaustion. Sobbing with his face buried in a pillow so that no one would hear him and force him to admit that yes, things were different now. That he could no longer take being alone. Each morning dawned in pure, golden relief, spent gasping until the remnants of tears had cleared out of his breathing, and then meeting Chidi with a stately nod at his bedroom door. Chidi must know, by the way he waited there earlier and earlier each time, but he said nothing.

There was, of course, an alternative to this torture. He could go to bed with someone. Not Chidi, no, that would reopen too much, but…someone.

It was just three days after their arrival in Rome when Vincent dismissed Chidi for the first time. “Je sors avec les autres gardes ce soir. Prenez du temps libre. [I’m going out with the other guards this evening. Take some time off.]“ He said it casually, the way that one might casually toss a grenade into the center of a crowded room. They were seated at either side of a little round tea table for an afternoon snack. Chidi stood up and stared at him, breathing hard. Vincent raised an eyebrow. “Avons-nous un problème? [Do we have a problem?]”

He promptly sat down again. “Non.”

“Bien. [Good.]”

That night, Chidi had already gone to his own bedroom when Vincent returned with a man on his arm. But the door was cracked open, and Vincent could feel eyes on him as he passed, prickling his skin with visceral guilt. Well, to hell with that. He would not be guilted for doing what he had to do to get a moment of peace. No matter whether he pictured Chidi alone in that downstairs bedroom, unhappy. Probably very unhappy…

The night passed without troubled dreams – in fact, it passed almost entirely sleepless. And in the morning, Chidi was waiting for him at the door, the same as ever. His co-conspirator must have passed Chidi on the way out in the early hours. They didn’t speak a word about it.

And they didn’t speak a word about it the next time, or the time after that. It became Vincent’s habit to ensure that he did not sleep alone two nights in a row – which was to say, it became Vincent’s habit not to sleep more than two nights in a row. It was a perfect system, really. A liaison kept the nightmares away for a night. Drugs kept him upright and free of shame over the course of the day following a liaison. And by the time he passed out from exhaustion the next night, he was too tired to dream. As long as he didn’t look at Chidi, he didn’t have to feel bad about any of it, which was perfect, because he was trying not to look at Chidi anyway. What could go wrong?

Best of all, the whole cycle numbed him just enough to maintain things with Santino. The relationship had become…draining. A series of encounters that he had to get through by being drunk or high or teasing Santino to vent his own resentment. But the connection made sense politically. Vincent wracked his brain for a real reason to break up, and he couldn’t justify it. He definitely couldn’t deal with the fallout that would ensue if Santino decided to throw a fit about the breakup, not right now. It could ruin things with Gianna, and that was going so well.

Santi, for his part, was only too glad to have Vincent back in the city, and to restock his drug supplies whenever he wanted. He made excuses to stay in Rome until winter. The D’Antonio family was already making plans for how they would spend Christmas together. Again, the only hitch was Chidi.

“Pourquoi ne vous débarrassez-vous pas de votre garde du corps stupide? [Why don’t you get rid of that brainless bodyguard of yours?]” Santino would say, while eyeing him across the room and grimacing. Normally, Vincent tried to see him when Chidi wasn’t on shift, but Santino had an infuriating habit of showing up unexpectedly. And every time the two were in the same room, some variation of this conversation played out. “Il ressemble à un gros bœuf stupide. Je peux t'en trouver un meilleur. Quelqu'un de pointu. Vous savez à quel point Ares est efficace... [He looks like a big, stupid ox. I can find you a better one. Someone sharp. You know how effective Ares - ]”

“Je suis très bien fourni en gardes du corps, merci. [I’m very well supplied with bodyguards, thank you.]” But he never seemed to drop the subject for good. It was like Chidi was getting into everything, changing every aspect of his life, haunting his thoughts throughout every one-night-stand. No matter how he tried to act like he didn’t care, no matter how he tried to compartmentalize him, there was Chidi again.

What bothered him most of all was that Chidi seemed to have no trouble getting a life of his own. He was settling into his role as head of the Myrmidons admirably. In the evenings, when Vincent allowed himself the agonizing ecstasy of an hour in undivided company with Chidi, he learned that Chidi was exploring Rome by himself and finding it very much to his liking. He had even discovered a favorite restaurant in a historic building downtown. Would Vincent like to go there together sometime? He seemed to be testing the waters. Vincent couldn’t resist saying yes. Despite his best efforts to exclude Chidi, he couldn’t bear the thought of Chidi having a favorite place that didn’t include him. It was very confusing.

Apparently, the other Myrmidons sometimes accompanied him on his walks through the city. One of the maids, too. Chidi was friends with them now. Everybody liked him, because of course they did. He was so gentle in his brutishness, so playful and yet so steadying, so infectious when he laughed. And on top of that, just look at him. Vincent did, and felt physically burned by the way his shoulders strained with muscle under his blazer, the way that beard cut knife-sharp along his jaw. As usual, he had to look away.

The next day, Vincent watched him with this maid. He felt burned then too. The way her shining, brunette curls bounced when she nodded at something Chidi said, glowing with smiles. Did Chidi feel burned when he looked at her? When he looked at Vincent? Had Chidi ever felt this way, about anyone? Had anyone in the world ever felt this way about anyone else, or was Vincent being tortured in some cruel and usual manner peculiar to god’s least favorites? He was in flames. He was dying. He must be.

That night, he got very high indeed.

He went to Santino, because damn it, if Chidi was going to go to the maid when he was lonely, then Vincent was going to go to Santino.

A line. Santino’s finger running over a wine glass as he stared out at the river at dinner, interrupting sparkling candlelight. A line. That sparkling transformed into flashing on a club floor. A line. Their bodies pressed together in the back of a limo. A line. Santino’s words spilling into his mouth between kisses. “Sapevo che mi volevi, mio ​​caro. Sapevo che saresti venuto da me da solo uno di questi giorni. Hai finalmente finito di farmi implorare? [I knew you wanted me, mio caro. I knew you’d come to me on your own one of these days. Are you finally done making me beg?]”

Disgust twisting in the pit of his body. “No. Prega più forte. [No. Beg harder.]” Say that you desire me. That I’m worth something…that no one could resist me… Santino whined and started humping into the leather seat with Vincent still buried in his ass.

“Per favore, mio ​​amore. Per favore. Fammi sentire bene. Non so come fai... aaaa... devi essere una specie di diavolo. La mia tentazione. Non sei nemmeno umano. [Please, mon amour. Please. Make me feel good. I don’t know how you do it…aaaa…you must be some kind of devil. My temptation. You’re not even human.]”

“Ovviamente non lo sai. Non mi conosci affatto. [Of course you don’t know. You don’t know me at all.]” It just slipped out. Santino didn’t seem to notice.

But he noticed when Vincent went soft and retreated into the seat away from him.

“Dove-cosa...? Dove sei andato? [Where-what…? Where’d you go?]”

“Ferma la macchina. [Stop the car.]”

“Che – [What the – ]“

“Sei sordo e del tutto inosservante? Ho detto di fermare la macchina. Ho avuto tutto ciò che volevo. [Are you deaf as well as completely unobservant? I said stop the car. I’ve had all I wanted.]”

Santino’s face went from confused to livid. “No! Verrai a casa con me stasera. Hai accettato. [No! You’re coming home with me tonight. You agreed.]”

“Davvero Santino? Sei quel tipo di uomo? [Really, Santino? Are you that kind of man?]” He rolled his eyes disdainfully, but his heart had started doing something utterly sickening. Was Santino that kind of man? His hand closed on the handle of the knife in his back pocket.

“Non ti toccherò. [I won’t touch you],” Santino said very graciously, despite caressing the air just above his cheek in a gesture so close to touching that it might as well have been. “Ma avevi promesso di venire. Ti terrò finché non ti renderai conto di quanto ti piaccio. [But you promised to come. I’m going to keep you until you realize how much you like me.]” His face hovered inches from Vincent’s. How did this escalate so fast? Only minutes ago, it seemed, he was sober, having dinner and planning to go home soon…

Don’t panic. He wished Chidi were here. How could he get back to Chidi? What could he do? His bodyguards were following behind them in another car. They’d know if he went missing. And they’d notice if he jumped from the vehicle. His eyes flickered from Santino’s too-close lips to the door handle. Santino caught the look and covered the lock with his hand, grinning. “Non mi sfuggirai, Vincent. Finalmente, dopo mesi, sei venuto da me volentieri. Non a un pranzo con me e mia sorella, non a una cena per cui ho dovuto implorare. Sei venuto da me, da solo, perché stai iniziando a vederlo anche tu. E non ti permetterò di buttarlo via solo perché a volte ti confondi. Apparteniamo insieme. Quella guardia del corpo ti sta dando fastidio, ma io... [You’re not getting away from me, Vincent. Finally, after months, you’ve come to me willingly. Not at some lunch with both me and my sister, not at some dinner I had to plead for. You came to me, all on your own, because you’re starting to see it too. And I won’t let you throw that away just because you get confused sometimes. We belong together. That bodyguard is messing with your head but I’ll - ]”

The blade plunged into the center of Santino’s hand. It was so satisfying that Vincent had to take a moment to enjoy the look on his face. “Oh, sei sorpreso di essere stato pugnalato dopo un discorso del genere? Hahahaha, malato di merda! Non appartengo a te! [Oh, you’re surprised you got stabbed after a speech like that? Hahahaha, you sick fuck! I do not BELONG with you!]” It was already too late – he might as well unleash everything. “Sai perché sono venuto qui stasera? Perché sei il fondo del barile, la persona che vedo quando ho voglia di sguazzare. Ti ho sedotto solo nel caso in cui tu uccidessi tua sorella più tardi, e sai una cosa? Spero che tu ci provi, e spero che lei ti uccida prima. Ti odio a morte, questa è la verità. Ovviamente devi ricorrere al rapimento solo per la più piccola speranza di ricevere il più piccolo briciolo di attenzione, patetico e disperato succhiacazzi. Risparmiati la fatica e non cercarmi più [You know why I came here tonight? Because you’re the bottom of the barrel, the person I see when I feel like wallowing. I only ever seduced you in case you kill your sister later, and you know what? I hope you try, and I hope she kills you first. I hate your guts, that’s the truth. Of course you have to resort to kidnapping just for the smallest hope of the smallest scrap of attention, you pathetic, desperate cock sucker. Save yourself the trouble and don’t look for me again.]” And with a spray of crimson trialing behind, he wrenched himself and the knife out into the battering midnight wind.

It hurt…a lot more than he was expecting. His shoulder made impact first. The purple-black of the city sky rolled over and over itself as he tumbled across cobblestones. There was tearing fabric, rocks driving into his flesh, a sharp impact against the back of his skull. In the distance, he could hear screeching tires. Was it one or both cars that turned back for him? But he blacked out before he could learn the answer.

He woke up in motion. A familiar scent. Someone’s arms underneath him. “Move. Don’t stand there, get a doctor.”

“Chidi…?” He curled closer against his chest. They were going up a flight of stairs, it seemed.

“C'est moi. Vous allez bien, monsieur. Vous êtes à la maison. [It’s me. You’re okay, sir. You’re home.]”

Splitting pain down the center of his head. “Je ne… je ne ressens pas… [I don’t…I don’t feel…]”

“Vous avez une commotion cérébrale. Mais tout ira bien. Tu étais si courageux. Ils m'ont dit – [You have a concussion. But everything will be alright. You were so brave. They told me – ]“ Chidi cut himself off, seemingly overcome. “De toute façon. Je vais te déposer maintenant, au lit. Est-ce que ça va? [Anyway. I’m going to set you down now, in bed. Is that okay?]”

Vincent realized he was shaking. “N'allez nulle part. [Don’t go anywhere.]”

“Je ne le ferai pas. [I won’t.]” He was laid very gently onto soft sheets. His shoes and tie were pulled away, the blanket tucked up to his chin. Everything was so warm, so bright…his head was still cradled in Chidi’s arms. Finally, Chidi was in his bedroom again, and everything seemed fixed. The change from the past few days was so enormous that Vincent couldn’t understand why he hadn’t done this sooner.

“Chidi?”

“Oui?”

“Je déteste Santino. [I hate Santino.]”

That gorgeous jaw set tight. “Il t'a fait du mal? [Did he hurt you?]”

“Non, heureusement non. Il a juste essayé de me kidnapper. [No, fortunately not. He just tried to kidnap me.]” Vincent scoffed. “C’est de ma faute, j’ai renvoyé mes gardes du corps, donc j’ai dû sauter – [It’s my fault, I sent my bodyguards away, so I had to jump – ]”

“Ce n'est PAS votre faute. [It is NOT your fault.]” Chidi pressed a kiss against his pounding head. “Cet homme est une petite fouine dégoûtante. Je ne le laisserai plus jamais toucher à toi. [That man is a disgusting little weasel. I will never let him lay a finger on you again.]”

Vincent smiled, savoring the way the warmth spread from the spot his lover’s lips had touched. “Merci.” He studied Chidi’s face. Worry lines at the corner of his mouth and eyes stood out prominently. There was the burning thing, flaring up in his chest at the sight of Chidi’s face. The guilt, the shame. The terrifying magnetism. “…Que vous ont dit les gardes? […How much did the guards tell you?]”

“Que veux-tu dire? [What do you mean?]”

They didn’t tell him anything, then. This was going to be incredibly difficult. Vincent tried one more time. “Vous ont-ils dit ce que je faisais avant de quitter le club ? Vous ont-ils dit… dans quel état je me trouve? [Did they tell you what I was doing before we left the club? Did they tell you…the state that I am in?]”

“Ils feraient mieux de ne rien me cacher. [They had better not have kept anything from me.]”

“Je leur ai fait jurer de ne rien te dire. [I made them swear not to tell you.]” He stared at the far corner of the blanket for a minute, trying to muster the courage. Instead, he found himself deciding maybe not. Maybe it was better Chidi didn’t know. If he quit, then who would ever have to tell Chidi? Nobody, right?

But Chidi saved him the trouble. “Que prenez-vous, monsieur? [What are you taking, sir?]”

Infinite silence, still staring into the corner. “Cocaïne.” He waited for disappointment, for crushing sympathy, already preemptively irritated by both.

“Comment ça a commencé? [How did it start?]”

“…Santino. Quand je suis arrivé ici seul pour la première fois. […Santino. When I first came out here alone.]”

“Je vois. [I see.]” Vincent could almost feel that information being filed for later. “Voulez-vous arrêter? [Do you want to stop?]”

“Non. Oui. Je ne sais pas. [No. Yes. I don’t know.]”

“Eh bien… c'est mon travail de protéger votre santé, monsieur. Je ne ferais pas mon travail si je te laissais continuer. [Well…it’s my job to protect your health, sir. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let you continue.]”

“Et si c’était la seule chose qui me garde sain d’esprit, hmm ? J'ai besoin… [What if it’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane, hmm? I need…]” Fuck, he was going to cry if they kept on with this discussion. “Et si ça me maintenait en vie ? N'est-ce pas important pour ma santé ? Je serai trop fatigué sans ça, et puis je dormirai, et puis je… je ne peux pas… je ne peux pas… [What if it’s keeping me alive? Isn’t that important for my health? I’ll be too tired without it, and then I’ll sleep, and then I’ll…I can’t…I can’t…]” At some point he had started hyperventilating and couldn’t stop.

Chidi took his hand and kissed it, looking deeply pained on his behalf. “Monsieur. Je veux t'aider avec les cauchemars. Avec le chagrin. Tout cela. Chaque jour, je te vois souffrir alors que tout le monde s’attend à ce que tu ailles bien. C’est impossible, vu la pression que vous subissez, d’essayer de revenir instantanément à la normale. Sachez que vous n’êtes pas obligé de le faire seul. [Sir. I want to help you with the nightmares. With the grief. All of it. Every day, I see you hurting when everyone else expects you to be fine. It’s impossible, the amount of pressure you’re under, trying to go back to normal instantly. Please know that you don’t have to do this alone.]”

“N'êtes-vous pas trop occupé avec la femme de chambre? [Aren’t you too busy with the maid?]” Vincent wished he could take back the words but they were already out, and now he would have to hear the answer, hear Chidi lie or get angry or pity him or -

“Comme si quelqu’un pouvait être plus important pour moi que toi. Vous êtes ma vie, Maître Vincent. J'ai donné ma vie pour la tienne volontairement, tu te souviens ? J'étais prêt à être exécuté. Et je reste prêt. Je vous attends. Je n’ai touché personne d’autre, et je ne le ferai pas, peu importe le nombre de personnes que vous coucherez. Faites ce que vous devez faire, monsieur. Je veux juste être là pour toi. Même quand les choses vont mieux. Quand tu n’as plus mal… et je ferai en sorte que ce jour vienne… quand tu n’as plus mal, je veux toujours être à côté de toi. Pas besoin d’être malade pour dormir à mes côtés, Vincent. Si tu me veux, c'est tout ce qu'il faut. Je viendrai à toi. Peut-être que tu ne ressens pas la même chose, mais je t’aime et je le ferai toujours. [As if anyone could be more important to me than you. You are my life, Master Vincent. I gave my life for yours willingly, remember? I was ready to be executed. And I remain ready. I wait for you. I haven’t touched anyone else, and I won’t, no matter how many people you take to bed. You do what you need to do, sir. I just want to be there for you. Even when things are better. When you’re not in pain anymore…and I’ll make sure that day comes…when you’re not in pain anymore, I still want to be next to you. You don’t need to be unwell to sleep beside me, Vincent. If you want me, that’s all it takes. I will come to you. Maybe you don’t feel the same way, but I love you, and I always will.]”

Maybe it was the dawn finally starting to rise, but the world shone gold at all the edges. Like it was cracking, and sunlight was seeping in. It bled around the curtains, onto the bed, onto their joined hands. But Vincent’s eyes were too well adjusted to the darkness. He didn’t know what to do. Barely even knew how to talk around the lump in his throat. Say it back. I love you too. I love you too. I love you too. “Je ne savais pas… Je ne savais pas que tu pouvais parler de cette façon, Chidi. [I didn’t know…I didn’t know that you could talk this way, Chidi.]”

“Ce n’est pas une conversation, monsieur. Je t'aime. [It’s not talk, sir. I love you.]”

I love you too. “Allonge-toi à côté de moi. [Lay next to me.]” I love you too. “Jusqu'à ce que le médecin arrive. [Until the doctor gets here.]” I love you too. “Je ne veux pas que tu ailles n'importe où. [I don’t want you to go anywhere.]”

And Chidi slipped into the bed beside him, embracing Vincent skin to skin, arms securely around his waist, sighing contentedly against his neck… not asking him to say a thing. “Je sais. [I know.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹

Image Sources: One | Two

[lilrainbowcloud]

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Child of Apollo! Reader

Genre: Fluff, tinsy bit of angst || masterlist

[17:56]

As the sun dipped lower, casting a warm, orange hue across the camp, Luke couldn't help but smile at the beauty of the moment. He marvelled at the way the soft light accentuated the lines of your profile as you continued to sketch, completely absorbed in your creative world.

Every stroke of your pencil seemed deliberate, and Luke found himself captivated by the dance of your fingers across the paper. He admired the way you embraced each mistake, turning it into a stepping stone toward perfection. Your determination resonated with him, creating a silent connection between the two of you amidst the artistic ambiance of the natural museum.

The low hum of activities below you served as a gentle background melody to the symphony of creativity. Luke, despite his initial boredom, found solace in the atmosphere you created. The earthy scent of aged land became a comforting fragrance, blending seamlessly with the soft glow of the setting sun atop the hill you both were perched. Tucked away from your responsibilities for a stolen amount of time.

As the shadows deepened, he couldn't help but be drawn to your presence. The way you navigated the challenges of your sketch with grace and resilience painted a vivid picture of your character. The occasional clicks of your tongue and sighs of frustration only added to the authenticity of the scene.

In those two hours, Luke discovered a new layer to his admiration for you. It wasn't just about your artistic prowess; it was the way you approached life with clarity and purpose. Your goals were like brushstrokes on a canvas, creating a masterpiece of determination and focus. It was a mindset he longed to adopt, a reflection of the strength he saw in you.

Leaning back on the soft meadow, Luke let his gaze linger on you once more, silently appreciating the artistry in both your sketch and the person you were becoming. The hill wasn't just a haven for perfect view and fresh air; it was a sanctuary where he found himself falling deeper for the girl whose heart had become an unspoken part of his own.

As you gathered your art supplies and rose from the ground, the echoes of the conch shell served as a reminder that it was nearing dinner time resonated its way to you. The tiredness from hours of focused sketching settled in, and a yawn escaped your lips as you stretched, feeling the satisfying pull in your muscles.

Luke, standing in front of you, extended his hand with a warm smile. His invitation to dinner was a welcomed interruption to your creative reverie. However, your determination to finish your work lingered, and you pouted in response, expressing your reluctance to leave.

"But I'm not finished yet," you protested, hoping for a bit more time. Luke chuckled, understanding your dedication but also knowing the practicality of the situation. "They're going to look for you if you stay. Come on. We’ll come back here again tomorrow.”

However, the promise of tomorrow fades, for today marks the final sunset you'll share with him before returning to your mother's home. Tomorrow, you bid farewell to the comfort you've known, a hiatus until your return in the summer. How you yearn for your father to extend his presence longer. Yet, with each step, Selene, the goddess of the moon, ascends gracefully, draping the sky with her veil of darkness and adorning it with a myriad of stars.

That night, your tears twinkled alongside them as they poured.

[captainwinterrsoldierr]

Greetings.  I would like to make a request with Lester where the (female) reader recently turned 18 and she and Lester have been together in secret for a while and Apollo's sons and daughters are shocked that their stepmother is supposed to be barely older than They.  Thank you!☀️

Ty for the request! Sorry it took so long to post!☺️🫶🏽

Title: Do We Call you Stepmom now?

Apollo x Fem!Reader

-

You finished up with training the new demigods at Camp. The new kids gathered their supplies and walked off to prepare for dinner. You finished cleaning up the weapons and sorted them properly on the weapon stache.

The sun rays glint brightly in the clear waters. The golden hue of the sunset always made you smile thinking about him. Just the thought of him made you blush and made your heart thump. As if reading your mind, you heard a chariot land behind you. You turn and saw Apollo getting off the chariot. He transformed into Lester. You didn’t mind at all. You loved him both ways no matter what. But he will always be the goofy, charming Lester to you no matter what.

His eyes glossed over as his mouth curved into that brilliant smile of his. He held out his hands and cupped your face gently. His blue eyes twinkled. Lester leaned into you and placed his lips onto yours. His kisses were always like this. Slow and meaningful. You always felt loved by him.

“I missed you darling,” He said pecking your lips.

You giggled, “I just saw you yesterday.”

He sighed dramatically, “Oh my love and it’s never enough.” His hands traced your back and he held you closely.

You glanced over your shoulder and saw Kayla walking over to where you and Apollo were.

“Ah!” You pushed him away and started to pretend lifting a sword.

Lester raised his eyebrows at you, “Y/N!”

“I’m sorry but we haven’t told your kids yet we’re together! What will they say! Im a Demigod!” You panicked ducking behind a shield.

Lester bit his lip, “Well let’s tell them now! Darling you just turned 18 it’s fine! We’re happy and in love!” He clapped happily.

You furrowed your eyebrows still ducked behind the shield. Kayla was getting close now soon she will see you two. Lester knelt up to you.

“My love, my sweet sunshine it’s ok I promise. They won’t say anything and as far as I can tell they love you!”

Your lips trembled, “are you sure?”

He nodded and he held his hand out. You took it and brushed the dirt off your knees. You spotted Kayla and waved at her.

“He-hey Kayla!” You nervously smiled.

Her eyes darted when she saw Lester, “Hey dad! What are you doing here today.”

You fiddled with your thumbs nervously.

“Greetings amazing daughter, me and y/n actually have something to tell you and the others, where are they now?”

“Oh they’re getting ready for dinner! Come on! I was just looking for y/n since I hadn’t seen her.”

Your heart warmed. Maybe they will be ok with this. The three of you chatted and walked back to the cabins. Kayla seemed unknowing of you and Lester. His fingers brushed against yours as the three of you walked. You finally reached the cabin and your heart raced faster.

Will was chatting with Nico outside the cabin. Austin was running around looking for a piece for his saxophone.

Will spotted you 3 and his eyes beamed. “Dad! Hey!”

“We have news to tell you all, my magnificent children,” Lester grinned. You nodded trying to seem confident. You all gathered in the central living space of the cabin. All eyes were on you and him. Even Nico was there. He smirked and drew a heart with his fingers. You bit your tongue. Oh no.

“So we are gathered here today to say-“ Lester began.

“What that you and y/n are together and happily in love?” Austin cackled. You froze in place. You looked over at Apollo who seemed a little anxious.

“Cause if you’re going to say that, we already know,” Will finished looking at the others. Your mouth gaped slightly open. They didn’t seem angry or uncomfortable which was a good sign.

Kayla got up and swung her arm around your shoulders, “maybe next time if you wanna keep things secret don’t make out on top of the training hill.”

Your eyes widened and your face turned beet red. “I uh can explain that!” You stammered.

“Fine yes we are happy and in love! We wanted to tell you ourselves but it seems we are indeed bad at hiding it,” Lester blushed.

“I just didn’t know if you guys were gonna be ok with it, we’re friends and I adore everyone in the Apollo cabin, you’re good people,” You spoke, your eyes looking down.

Kayla still had her arms around you, “We discussed it and we’re all ok with it! Actually we’re estatic! We all love you y/n, it’s a little odd you’re around the same age as us. But we will get used to it!” She gave you a squeeze and went to sit back down.

Your heart felt warm. You started to tear up and you felt Lester’s fingers lace into yours.

“Told you honey,” he said softly.

Will got up and wiggled his finger at Apollo. “Now now that doesn’t mean we won’t hold our father accountable though. Don’t go hurting our precious Y/N!”

You giggled and side hugged Lester. “I promise on myself I won’t!” He Exclaimed.

You were so happy. You and Lester can be together publicly now and it made your heart skip a beat. He was your everything. The cabin seemed happy about it. Everything was perfect

Austin cleared his throat and everyone looked at him, “but do we have like start calling you step mom now?”