#apollo fluff

“Hermes, how much longer do I have to keep this on for? Where are we even going?” You ask as you’re being blindly led by Apollo’s younger brother.

“You ask so many questions.” He chuckles. “ The only thing I can tell you is Apollo sent me to get you and that it’s a surprise.”

Your tummy flutters at the idea of what Apollo could possibly get you.

He always showers you with little gifts and surprises you with sweet dates. Last time you told him it was your turn to treat him and you did by making a picnic for you two, you even made fresh bread and got his favorite fruit and set up on a hill to watch the sunset and here he is doing another impossibly sweet gesture only a few weeks after his last.

The sun god is always quick to spoil you and is deaf to all your comments of guilt for not being able to pay him back or do the same for him. The smile on your face and the time you give me is a gift in itself, he would say so you just try to accept it and know he expects nothing in return no matter how big or small his token of affection is.

Though he’s done a lot in the two years you’ve shared together, being led blindfolded to an unknown location is a first. All you can tell is you’re going up a rocky hill —thank the gods for Hermes’ hold on your arm because you’ve had a few close calls of falling on your face.

“Okay,” The God beside you says, coming to a stop. “You can remove your blindfold.” You can feel him stand back as you untie the loose knock at the back of your head, blinking away the brightness of the setting sun your heart melts in your chest at the sight before you.

Before you is the spot where Apollo asked you to officially be his girlfriend and now there is a trail of red petals leading from where you’re standing to the golden god standing in the middle of the clearing. He reflects the smile you give him as you start walking, looking over your shoulder you see Hermes is gone —you were so enthralled by the scene before you you must’ve missed him racing away, leaving the two of you alone on the top of this mountain.

“You look as lovely as always.” Apollo says, his smooth rich voice rolls over his lips like silk.

“Thank you, I can say the same for you.” You chuckle, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you reach him in the center. “This is beautiful, Apollo, but what is this all?” You ask, scanning the surrounding ground that is littered with flower petals and candles that are dancing in the wind, illuminating the dimming area.

“What? Can’t a man do something special for their lover for nothing?” He asked suavely as he took a step towards you to hook his warm hand around the back of your neck and pull you in for a sweet kiss. When your lips touch it sends sparks of electricity across your skin and down your spine.

“I guess not, but was the blindfold really necessary?”

“Of course. You should’ve seen your face, it was beautiful.” He smiles brightly.

Taking your hand he takes a deep breath.

“However, I must confess, there is something more to this night.”

“What more can you possibly do, this is perfect, Apollo. You’ve already given me all I could possibly want” You ask bemused, making him chuckle warmly.

“Perhaps but there is something I’ve been wanting to give to you for quite a while.”

You allow the god to walk you to a small seating area he’d set up with blankets and cushions along with a basket with a bottle of wine and a few treats. Taking a seat upon a gold cushion, your hand still in his, you wait for him to continue.

“Y/n, you’ve honored me with two years of your life, which is more than I would’ve ever expected you to grant me. You say I’ve given you all I could possibly give but it’s quite the opposite. There is so much left to give, some of which I may never acquire but I’ll spend every day you grant me to do just that. You deserve everything this world, and on, has to offer.” Your eyes begin to prickle with wetness as you listen to his honeyed words and see the truth in his amber eyes.

Positioning himself on his knee before your body he takes both your hands in his as he keeps his eye locked on yours.

“I would say that every petal around us is a physical representation of all the reasons and the days that I’ve loved you and will continue to love you, but there aren’t enough in existence to show that.

The reason I’ve brought you here is because I wanted to bring you to the very spot you accepted my courtship to humbly request you to give me the opportunity to love you for the rest of your days as your husband.

Y/n L/n, will you marry me?”

You don’t even try to stop the tears that are brimming over as you frantically nod your head, wrapping your arms around his shoulders you press your quivering lips against his.

“Yes! A million times, yes!” You cry between kisses. His hands cradle your face as his glossy eyes search yours.

“Really?” He asks, almost surprised you said yes.

“Yes, Apollo. I will marry you.”

This is kinda shitty but is it in a cute way at least?!? I hope you enjoyed it either way 😅

Feedback & Interaction is always appreciated :)

💛 ~

The sudden phrase had Hyacinthus shooting upwards so fast that had he moved any faster, the sheets would have completely flown off him- not that Apollo in any way would have minded.

“Sunshine, whatever do you mean? You are a god.”

“Well I’m clearly not anymore!” Apollo yelled, his hands weaving and grabbing at his hair. What was his father up to and more importantly- What did Zeus want this time?

It wasn't uncommon, which Apollo had to admit was a sad thing to have to accept, for his father- the whores of all whores (and don't let Zeus know that Apollo called him that)- to sometimes turn him into a mortal.

In Apollo’s honest opinion, it was often for trivial and unnecessary things that he cared not for- however, thanks to his father, he wouldn't really be given a choice on whether he cared about the subject or not. It was already terrible enough when he was turned into a mortal as a punishment for mocking Aphrodite’s son -Eros, but to add insult to injury, his father had him running around a random mortal whom he had somehow fallen truly, madly and deeply in love with until she had someone turn her into a tree.

Apollo refused to trust Eros ever again. He refused to ever let Eros or Aphrodite near any of his lovers- but it seemed no matter how hard Apollo tried to avoid the winged bastard, Eros always appeared exactly when he didn't need him- so was he really surprised to hear the manic laughing of a winged man? No, no he wasn’t.

It was only a miracle that Eros had just flown over and not appeared in front of him- that would have been catastrophic.

“Apollo?”

His head snapped towards his concerned lover. “Are you okay?”

He paused- what kind of question was that? He was no longer glowy- what was he to do? And slowly his thoughts began descending into chaos- at first it was the same things he thought every time this happened ( which would be a lot more than one would expect- Zeus was petty like that). However, as his thoughts began to spiral, he began to worry whether Hyacinthus would leave him once he realised that Apollo was truly no longer his godly self.

Afterall, why would Hyacinthus - a healthy, fit and handsome man- want to be stuck with a boring mortal who must go on a quest due to his petty father?

He slumped onto the bed, groaning as he realised he could feel the pain from his face slamming directly onto a pillow.

“Sunshine?”

“What?” Apollo groaned miserably. He felt Hyacinthus place his warm hand on his back, rubbing it in smooth circles, a gesture Apollo knew was what Hyacinthus would do when he tried to comfort him; apparently, according to his lover, Apollo was allegedly very ‘high maintenance’.

“You said that you were no longer a god before suddenly collapsing onto the bed,” he explained. “ Are you okay?”

“Why do you care?”

“Am I not allowed to care for my boyfriend?”

“Not for long. Now that I’m mortal, again, I’ll probably die super soon of something pathetic- just like me.”

Hyacinthus felt relatively guilty. He didn’t mean to deceive Apollo- not that he actually was. It was simply the fact that he realised that he for some reason or another felt extremely different than how he normally would. His body felt stronger, his skin fresher, his eyesight perfect and so on.

At first he thought it was simply the effect of being truly, madly and deeply in love but when Apollo had awoken and confided in him that he too was now mortal, Hyacinthus put it together.

Apollo was mortal and now he was a god.

“I need to figure out the key to this thing. Zeus does this all the time, it really isn't fair,” Apollo grumbled sadly into the pillow and when he lifted his head Hyacinthus could see tears forming and rolling down his lover’s face.

“Mortals cry, Hyacinthus! They cry! Why do your faces produce these wet salty forms of water when you’re experiencing anything other than happiness or pleasure, I truly do not know and in all honesty, I think it to be completely stupid on an entirely new level!”

“So you’re asking me why do humans cry when we’re sad?” Hyacinthus slowly reiterated.

“Yes!” Apollo let out a sob.

“I don’t know but there must be a reason as to why you’re sad.”

“Because!”

Hyacinthus paused. “ Because…? Because of what, Sunshine?”

“ Because- I’m terribly pathetic now! Don't you see, I’m just like everyone else. There's no reason for you to even stay not a second longer jammed up in this luxurious bed with an absolute maggot such as myself! And you have no reason to call me sunshine anymore because I’m a pathetic weak mortal and not the glorious Sun god. I’ll probably starve to death or get food poisoning. Or maybe, i’ll be kidnapped and murdered.” Apollo paused his teary rant to take a deep inhale. “At this point, that option would be ideal.”

And as he refused to meet the eye of his concerned lover, Apollo felt the stupid, stupid tears continue their route down his cheeks, pooling at the bottom of his chin before momentiarily staying still and then falling direclty onto the silk pillow with a soft ‘plop!’

He felt firm hands confidently but gently cradle his face, squishing his cheeks slightly and forcing his face upwards as if to look him in the eye.

“I’m going to take care of you,” Hyacinthus smiled.

“It’s all rotten work anyway,” Apollo sniffled.

“Not to me.” Hyacinthus grabbed a tissue and began dabbing away at Apollo’s tears before they dried up his skin. “Not if it’s you.”

You let the flour rinse through your fingers, watching the fine dust swirl in the dim light. The window was wide open, enabling you to cherish the last whiffs of fresh air. Long and heavy lay the summer upon your small town, bending people's backs as sweat dripped down their temples. Fortunately for you, you were no farmhand- not that farming had much of a point these days. For weeks now, your village’s crops had been failing. The river, too, was running dry, and out in the fields, you could make out a group of children running off to fetch water a few towns over. Desperate attempts to keep some of the crops alive to avoid mass starvation.

The dough was soft beneath your palms, sticky with honey, and the smell of baking bread wrapped around you like a comfort. You had an advantage over those now begging on the streets- a divine lover who wouldn't have you endure a day of hunger. What he did not know, however, was that you shared his gifts with your fellow townspeople, resulting in you climbing into bed with a growling stomach, but a light heart.

You hummed to yourself, kneading the dough until your arms ached, careful to avoid it getting on your dress. It was too nice a dress for baking. A dress for quiet afternoons, a dress for meeting your lover beneath the pine trees. A dress for better times. But he had announced his visit through signs, and you had dolled yourself up properly to meet him. The last time he'd appeared, golden and radiant as he was, he'd pressed a kiss to your brow and told you to be patient. That rain would eventually bless your village. But you weren't a god, so you could only hope and pray.

That was when you heard it. Faint at first- a dull thud against wood, a voice raised, carried by the wind through your window. You couldn't make out the words, but the tone seemed aggressive. You paused, hands still coated in flour, and approached the window to listen. Smaller brawls about food and water were no rare occurrence these days. But the noise swelled, and you could make out the thudding of many footsteps, the shouting of voices growing louder. Drawing closer.

Dark premonition tightened into a coil in your chest- this was no small brawl, it sounded like the whole village had banded together, approaching this scarcely inhabited outskirt. Nervosity clawing at your insides, you cleaned your hands with a towel and walked towards the door to inquire about the noise. But before you could even reach it, there was a knock. And another. Loud bangs, mirroring the heavy pounding in your chest. Then, a commanding voice sounded through the wood of the door. “Open up, now!”

Your fingers shook with apprehension as you turned the doorknob and opened the door. You were greeted to a sea of faces and chants. Most of them you recognized, and you looked around in helpless confusion at them. But their expressions were twisted into hateful rage, one that you could not explain to yourself.

But before you could make an inquiry, the man who must have knocked on your door, a temple guard, judging by his uniform, obscured your sight by stepping in front of you. He towered over you, much taller than you, and his eyes glinted with a sadistic sort of irony. “Well, well,” he said to himself, eyes raking over your figure. “What a shame.” Without a warning, his hand shot out and wrapped itself around your upper arm in a grip so tight it made you wince. His fingers dug painfully into the meat of your biceps, so hard it would surely leave bruises. He yanked you from your home entrance and into the awaiting hands of the masses.

You stumbled into a curling snake pit of hands, grabbing at you, ripping your clothes, yanking at your limbs. Any sounds of protests, all of your confused questions were drowned out by a flood of screams, chants and yells. Desperate for support, you clung to the baker who you sold your breads to. But, with an almost disgusted look, he pushed you off and against one of the soldiers. Someone fisted your hair and yanked you in no particular direction, and when you cried out in pain, the masses laughed.

You were helpless, and completely disoriented. Dragged around and pushed from one to the other, the world blurred before your waking eye, until your head hit the ground with a painful thud. You scrambled to your feet, but the moment you had found some footing, the hands grabbed at your dress and yanked you. Their pull was irresistible, the voices swelled into a loud chant your ears didn't comprehend. It was too much. Too much pain, too much noise, too much movement. You wanted to fall to your knees and pray, beg for an explanation for this nightmare, but your body was like that of a puppet, strings cut and ripped around by violent hands.

Overwhelmed, all you could to was whisper his name under your breath, again and again. It was no prayer, no ode, no cry for help. It was simply that his name was the only sound that would make it past your lips, as if it was the only one you knew. The only thing tethering you to the world as you lost the ground beneath your feet.

Your cries for an explanation, for help, were ignored as the solider who had knocked on your door got a hold of your upper arms and dragged you down the road, barely letting you walk on your own. As you looked around, through the mist of tears clouding your vision, you could make out people following you or watching the angry procession from their doors and windows. Slowly, you began to understand.

When you stumbled, the soldier ripped you up violently and hit you across the face. The harsh slap made your head spin as your cheek burned. The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, and your tongue traced your lip to find it busted. A new string of tears spilled out of your eyes, eliciting hollers and new yells from the crowd that derived great pleasure from your pain.

Only the ground beneath you turning from stamped earth to cobblestone announced to you that you had reached the city square. Under the cheers of the crowd, you were pushed towards the center and onto your knees. With a painful thud, they met the ground, scraping against the hard, uneven stone.

Your village elders had assembled in the center. As you were being dragged before them, they looked up from a discussion they were having; frail old men holding too much power, and glaring down at you as you lay in the dirt at their feet, shaking and sobbing. Your whispers of your god’s name went unnoticed, swallowed by the people’s shouts and chants. Only when one of the elders, a man called Zephyros, stepped forward and raised his hand did the noise gradually subside.

When he called your name, you raised your head shakily, looking into hard, unforgiving eyes. “Pharmakis. You stand accused of dark witchcraft, of destroying our crops and drying our rivers with the goal of starving our city. How do you plead?” (Pharmakis = "witch")

“I didn't do anything!” you cried out, tears and dirt running down your face as the soldier’s grip on you tightened. “Please- why would I do something like that? I am no witch!” Desperation laced your voice, felt heavy on your tongue, as you searched for the right words with dire need. Words to calm their anger, dispel their doubts. But the only thing they seemed to have no doubt about was your guilt.

“You remain the only one untouched by this catastrophe, that has been taking children, animals, and people alike! Your neck remains adorned by jewelry. How did you get it, by baking bread?” A humorless laugh left his lips as angry whispers broke out around you. Someone threw a necklace at your feet- they must have taken it from your home, you recognized it in an instant. As all your jewelry, Apollo had made you take and wear it against your initial protests that it was too much, too good for you. Wide eyed, you stared at the gold as it reflected the sun’s light.

“Your spells have cursed us and enriched you!” Hissed Zephyros, looking down upon your trembling figure, “your greed has angered the gods.”

“Please!” you cried out over a new swelling of shouts. “If I had offended the gods, why would they grace me with fortune and riches?”

“Shut your mouth!” Seethed Zephyros, turning to the crowd and raising his voice so it bellowed all over the city square. “The gods are angry because of her! She’s been seen in the fields at dawn, whispering to the soil. The earth rots under her hands, and the rivers dry in her shadow. A witch, poisoning our village from within!” New tears formed in your eyes, the hopelessness of the situation dawning on you when the people chanted for your death sentence. “The sun turns harsh, the rain refuses to fall- this is her doing. She consorts with dark spirits, cursing our land while we starve. How else do you explain our suffering?”

The words fell upon you like stones, and with your hands twisted behind your back, you were unable to shield yourself from the vile accusations they inflicted upon you like beatings with a harsh stick. They stung- you belonged to this village, you had lived here your whole life, waved a good morning to the same people who were now calling for your execution. Always had you made an effort to provide for those in need, to strike up a friendly conversation with those who were hopeless, had worked in the temple, sold on the market, been at the heart of their community. All that, now thrown out the window as if it meant nothing- it stung more than the harsh fingers digging into your shoulder did.

Your chest tightened as you looked up into their faces, twisted with fear and anger. Looking for a scapegoat. The same faces that had smiled at you warmly, now so hostile, now calling for your demise. Your breath came out in shallow puffs as your heart pounded loud enough to drown out the words the elders spat now, only words sticking out to you. “Pharmakis” “Traitor” “Gods’ ire”. You searched their faces for something- reason, mercy - but all you found was fear, expertly disguised by their hypocritical righteousness. The people you'd prayed for now looked at you as if you were a monster.

“Φοῖβε, ἀγάπη μου… βοήθει μοι…” (“Phoebus, my love… help me…”) you whimpered, lowering your head and squeezing your eyes shut as the desperation and hopelessness overwhelmed you. “Ἀπόλλων, μὴ μὲ ἐγκαταλείπῃς…” (“Apollo, do not abandon me…”). But he didn't come. No ray of sunshine, no glow of reassurance, no soft touch of safety, only the cold stone beneath your aching knees, the painful grip on your shoulder and the harsh words of accusation thrumming against your ears.

Suddenly, the elders fell silent and the crowds' shouts subsided into a low whisper. When you looked up, you were greeted to the sight of a hooded figure emerging from the closed lines of the soldiers. The simpel audacity to interfere with an elders sermon strook them all with silence- the people were props to cheer and fight for them, to applaud them. Not to raise their voice.

But he did- the hooded stranger spoke to the elders, and his voice was smooth and steady as he did. “I am a seer, a holy priest of Apollo. I come only with the most well-meaning advice, and it is dire. I have seen it in the stars, the behavior of the birds: a warning.” He pointed at you and you instinctively shrunk under his pointed finger. “Harming this woman will not save you. In fact, it will condemn you.”

A breathless silence layed heavy on your shoulders, pressing them down as a spark of hope danced inside your chest. Seers were people of the greatest renown in your rural community, religious readers, believed to be speaking to the gods themselves. Apollo, of course, had told you with a smile that most of them were swindlers, his warm fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he explained that only a few were blessed by his divine gift.

“A seer?” sneered elder Argyros after recovering from the shock of someone talking back to him. As the richest man in the village, he was used to people cowering before him. The stranger made no such attempts however, standing still as the elders eyes scrutinized him. “Or just another fool who's been charmed by her sorcery?”

“I am warning you,” the strangers voice sounded, much calmer. In spite of his old cloak and humble attire, he stood upright and his words were made of molten gold. “The sun watches, even now. His light sees everything. And if you spill her blood, it will burn you to ash.”

Your heart beat in your chest as you looked up at the man. Could he be saying the truth? Would Apollo be angry, maybe even grieving if you died? His love for you had always seemed so sincere.

“How can you be so sure it is her who has angered the gods?” asked the seer sharply, turning to the crowd. “Perhaps, the one who displeased them is among your highest ranks.” Turning to the elders once more, his eyes bore into those of elder Zephyros. “You haven't been treating your guests very well, have you, elder Zephyros? The gods value hospitality very highly. In fact, this whole council has treated its guests with a lack of respect and hence brought on themselves their own demise!”

“We don't need omens from a stranger,” elder Xanthos spat defensively, face turning both red and white at the same time. “We need blood to satisfy the gods. If Apollo were angry, he would have struck us down already. Maybe this is what he wants.”

The stranger opened his mouth, seemingly to protest, but elder Zephyros shut him up by pointing a finger at him. “Guards, seize this charlatan!” His eyes held a dangerous glint as they returned to your broken figure. “Take the girl to Apollo’s temple. I will prove to you all that Apollo would rather bless than curse us for this sacrifice!”

Before you could comprehend his words properly, you were seized by the arms and ripped up violently. The steadily growing crowd followed behind and around you as the guards dragged you to the gates of Apollos temple, which was located near the city square. The most glorious and beautiful sight your small city had to offer. The place held some of your most treasured memories. The first time you'd talked to him. He'd appeared to you in the disguise of a mortal man as you were parting before his altar.

“Please,” you whispered to god’s giant marble statue, unaware of the presence looming behind you. It was a warm summer night, the whole town was already asleep- safe for the harlots, the thief's, and you. “Please,” you whispered again, “Just a sign. Anything.”

“What if this sign was another person?”

Even in your sitting position, you spun around so fast that it scraped your knees. Upon seeing the young man lean so casually against one of the holy pillars, you scrambled to your feet, smoothing out your skirt and frowning at him, at his relaxed smirk. “You shouldn't eavesdrop on prayers.”

Though a teasing smirk graced his lips, the young man’s eyes held a certain, almost disarming warmth. “I wasn't eavesdropping. You spoke loud enough for even a god to hear.”

“You have an awfully bold tongue for a worshipper,” you remarked with narrowed eyes, folding your arms over your chest. If you had known you’d meet a man today, would be alone in a room with him, you’d have worn a less revealing dress.

The man let out a soft laugh and pushed himself off the pillar, taking a step towards you. “I’m not here to worship.” Your lisp opened in inquiry, brows furrowed, but he cut you off before you could even speak, eyes clinging to the marble statue. “You talk to that statue like it's alive.”

You glanced at him, unimpressed. “Maybe I have more faith than you do.”

His lips curled into a grin that was irresistible, even in his mortal form. Eyes locking onto yours, you could hear your breath hitch in your throat- and could have sworn he had heard it too, because his grin only widened as he took another step towards you, so casually it could have been by chance. “Or maybe, you like talking to men who don't talk back.”

With a scoff, you averted your face to hide your smile from him. This mysterious stranger was making you extremely flustered. “If that's true, I have no reason to talk to you, do I?” He laughed in response, and your head snapped up at the sound. His laugh sounded like a melody, like a sudden outburst of creative talent. It didn't quite match his voice, in a way that could have been unsettling. But the look of amusement on his face was too warm, too reassuring, too kind.

You scolded yourself for these thoughts- they were inappropriate for someone like you, especially seeing as you had just met this guy in the dead of night in an otherwise empty temple. At the same time, it was the place you felt safest- no one would dare dishonor it through violence, would they? The god would strike them down.

The stranger had reached your side with his languid, slow steps and turned to follow your gaze, eyes wandering over the statue, the altar. There was something like amusement in his eyes, and you quickly averted yours when you realized you were staring. How embarrassing. The strangers lips twitched. “What if Apollo isn't worth your prayers?” He asked into the silence that had settled upon you.

With a startled gasp, you whipped your head around at him, eyes darting around nervously. As if one could hide such impunity in the god's own temple. This man had to be doomed. “How dare you say that in his temple?” you snapped, scrutinizing him with your glare.

Unimpressed by your outburst, he chuckled. “Just a thought. What if he's vain and selfish?”

With a frown, you turned back to the altar. “Even if he is,” you said in a sharp voice, emphasizing the ‘if’, “he still brings light to the world.” You gave him a challenging look that he returned with a look of veiled awe- or maybe you were just imagining things. “Do you?”

The stranger let another soft laugh fall from his lips, but this time, he lowered his head and you thought you saw the lightest of pink tints adorning his cheeks. “Maybe not,” he admitted, locking eyes with with you and giving you a look heavy with something indescipherable. “But you certainly do.”

Something slamming into the side of your face ripped your out of your reminiscent memories. Something was dripping off your jaw, and you realized someone had thrown a tomato at you. Spitting out the juices that tasted like lead on your tongue, you tried to avoid other projectiles thrown at you, but you couldn't miss them all. Some unknown substance soaked the skirt of your dress and mocking whistles emerged when they turned it see-through in places. You felt sick, your head was spinning, your ears thrumming and your vision blurring.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see people lining the house fronts. Not all were shouting and chanting. Many of their faces were averted. They were the ones you would chat with on sunny days, you would share your breath with, who would invite you over for a drink to make friendly conversation. Yet now, they didn't even look at you, turned away, as you were violently shoved towards the temple. None of them lifted a finger to help, none spoke up on your behalf. They all just stood there.

Only the elders and soldiers followed the ones dragging you into the temple. The noisy crowd stayed outside, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Gates wide open, you were thrown against the altar, making you cry out in pain. Rough hands grabbed you and hoisted you onto the marble, then grabbed your collar from behind and ripped your dress open. With a strangled, teaerful gasp you attempted to cover yourself, feeling sick at the way some of the elders ran their tongues over their lips. A few of the soldiers sniggered, but not the one who now held you down.

The priest stepped forward from amongst the elders. For one mad moment, you hoped he would spare you- he had always been grateful for your efforts in the temple, even though you were no priestess. But he didn't spare your dirty, trembling body a glance, opting to turn to the council and raising his hands in prayer. “O great Apollo, lord of light and prophecy, we offer you this life in repentance. Let her blood cleanse our land, and may your mercy restore our fields.”

He gave the guard holding you in place a curt nod and suddenly, you felt something cold press against your throat. Gasping, you realized it was the cold edge of a blade digging into the skin of your neck. A sharp pain cursed through you when you squirmed, fear clouding your senses, and a trickle of blood ran down your skin. You shivered, new tears spilling from your eyes. If only you had seen him one more time, if only you had known it had been the last moment- you would have savored his touch so much more, captured the sound of his voice in your heart, the molten gold of his eyes. Why had you never told him you loved him back?

The priest returned from his sermon, and you could feel death drawing closer. Coldness spread, from the blade against your throat down to your fingertips, freezing your heart as if rushed through the fatal beats that would be its last. You couldn't help the sobs bubbling out of your throat. This was no graceful way to die. Shaking, crying, dirty and desperately holding your dress up. At least Apollo didn't have to see you like this. It would break his heart.

“In the name of the immortal gods, we cast out this child of ruin,” called the priest and the soldier tightened his grip on you. “May her death appease your anger, and may your favor shine upon us once more, lifting us upon-”

Suddenly, he broke off, but you weren't sure why. Your head was clouded with your raging panic, the prospect of certain death. But then, you could make out a figure making their way through the huddle of elders, and their indignant gasps when he stepped before the altar, facing them. You recognized the shabby clothes. It was the seer who had advocated for you.

“We forbid this insolence-” hissed one of the elders, but he seemed to choke on his own words, suddenly falling to his knees and clutching his throat. The air seemed to shift. It shuddered and trembled around you, like it was radiating in waves off of something- someone. The hood slipped off the seers head, and in that very instant, a wave of heat rippled through the air, warping all light. There was no mortal man standing before you anymore. The hooded man was gone, burned away in an instant, and in his place stood something too radiant, too vast, too terrible to be contained in human form.

Golden light spilled from his skin like molten fire, his very presence warping the world around him, like he didn't belong in it. Otherworldly. Heavenly. Godly. His eyes were no longer shadowed by the hood, no longer softened by moral pretense. They blazed with the fury of a dying sun, searing into the huddled elders with a heat that made them recoil. With a round of gasps and cries of shock, they fell to their knees, cowering before the man you had thought most about on this cursed day. Apollo.

The laurel wreath resting on his golden locks shimmered, a crown of gold and flame, and when he spoke, his voice was no longer bound by human restraint. It rolled through the temple like thunder, shaking the stone, splitting the air, making the ground itself tremble beneath them. “You dare,” he said, his voice thrumming in your ears as you stared at him. The elders quivered and cried as they pressed their faces onto the cold marble, but Apollo only sent them a disgusted look before turning to you.

His eyes, ablaze with ancient fury, softened slightly when he took in your shaken figure, your wide, teary eyes. The soldier that was holding you immediately retracted, and you, still dizzy and frozen with shock, threatened to crash into the hard marble of the altar.

But he was there in an instant, hands almost burning on your skin as he held you, as carefully as if you were made of glass. His eyes flickered over you frantically, darkening when they skimmed over the bruises and your hands clawing at your dress to hold it up, focusing on the trickle of blood down your neck. An eerie quiet lay on the room, multiplied by the sheer might of his presence.

“A- Apollo?” you asked, voice shaking, laced with disbelief. Could it really be him? Could you really be safe? When he normally visited you, he looked much simpler, if that was possible for something as eye-catching as him.

His voice was soft as his palm ran over your hair, as if he was trying to prove to himself that you were here, breathing, warm, alive. “It’s me, darling,” he assured you, but behind his calm facade, his voice was taut with restrained rage. “It's me.”

Stupidly, your eyes burned with tears once more, only this time it was tears of relief. You drew in a shaky breath and nodded frantically, fingers trembling as they touched his, needing to feel him against your skin. He was too ethereal to be true. “They-,” you whimpered, choking on your tears. “They were going to- I thought-” Your voice broke off and he drew calming circles on the skin of your arm.

You hadn't thought it possible, but the god’s voice broke when he whispered to you. “I know. I know what they did. What they almost took from me.” Towards the end of the sentence, his voice transformed into a low growl that made some of the elders wince.

His expression twisted into one of pure hatred as he softly layed you down on his altar and turned his attention to them. His fingers trailed lazily across the altar’s edge as he paced, the stone blackening and smoking beneath his touch. He didn't look at the elders as they whimpered and begged- not at first.

He smiled at their fear, a terrible, gleaming thing, as if he was savoring it. “You dare raise a knife to her throat?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “Here? On my altar? I have watched men wage wars in my name, have seen empires rise and crumble beneath my gaze. And yet, it is here- here, in this wretched little village- that I find the greatest insult of all.”

Slowly, he stepped down the stairs to the altar, towards their kneeling figures. Apollo moved like a predator- slow, deliberate, each step echoing like a war drum. His golden eyes blazed with fury, burning too bright to look at for long, and the air shimmered around him, as if the very world recoiled from his wrath. “Tell me,” he drawled, “did your fields rot because of her? Or because you are lazy, foolish and undeserving of the gods' gifts?” He halted his steps when he reached elder Zephyros. The old man trembled under the weight of his divine gaze. “Answer,” the god commanded and the elder flinched as if he had hit him.

“B- because of our sin, my lord,” he managed to stutter out, and Apollo scoffed. As he walked past him, Zephyros breathed a sigh of relief. But Apollo soon stopped behind another elder, lowering himself until his lips were just beside the man’s ear. “Kneel lower,” he breathed, and the man collapsed, forehead pressed into the dirt sobbing. Looking at him as if he was something bad smelling he stepped in, Apollo raised himself and let his gaze sweep over their figures, crouching impossibly lower in fear. “I have lit your fields with gold and warmed your skin with light, and this is your gratitude? To carve a blade into the one I love?"

In spite of their terrified state, there was a collective whisper among the elders. As the realization dawned on them, some directed their widened eyes at you, as if begging you for mercy, but Apollo stepped in front of them, shielding you from their fearful gaze. “We- we misunderstood your signs, Lord Apollo!” called the priest, who seemed to be the most courageous of all. Or maybe, he thought being a priest of his would earn him a forgiving touch. “Please forgive us!”

Apollo laughed a cruel laugh that made a shiver run down your spine. It was a horrible sound, his melodic voice twisted into something so utterly terrifying yet still pleasing to the ear in the most self-destructive of ways. "I sent you signs. I gave you commands. I testified before you. But your greed and your ignorance were too strong."

His gaze cut through their frantic apologies like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. "My Lord Apollo,” one elder managed to utter, “we didn't know she was dear to you! We never would have-" Apollo tilted his head, slow and almost curious, before stepping closer- so close the man choked on his words and collapsed to the ground. You flinched when the dull thud echoed around the room, as did his fellow elders, but none made a move to help him.

Apollo stretched out a hand, and a golden flame flickered to life in his palm- beautiful, deadly. He let it hover there as he walked, a silent threat, the fire casting jagged shadows across their terrified faces. "Ah, now you kneel. Now you grovel. I wonder, did she do the same? When you dragged her to this altar, did she beg?" The lot of them averted their faces, shieding themselves from his barely contained fury, as if that would protect them. "You look at me with fear in your eyes,” he said in an almost mocking tone, though it was humorless and cold. “Why? Is this not what you wanted? A sign from your god?"

Apollo stopped his paces to look around, his eyes scanning their cowering figures. He began circling the elders like a lion playing with dying prey, the faint trace of a smile curling his mouth, but there was no warmth in it- only cruelty, only fury barely held in check. "Look at you. Pathetic. Crawling to your knees like insects the moment your prey turns into a lion. I should let the sun forget this place. Let your crops wither. Let your rivers dry. Let the world never remember your name. Do you know how many temples l've watched crumble? How many cities l've watched rot? One would mean nothing to me. And yet, even now, even as you tremble... you don't understand the danger you are in."

One of the elders caught your eye, his gaze mad with fear. Probably mirroring your own just moments prior when he had called for your execution. “ἱκέτις!” (Spoken hiketis, translated to the one we beg) he called pleadingly, “we beg you- soften his heart, spare us!”

Apollo’s gaze snapped to the elder and he stepped forward. The man flinched and let out a short whimper. “You dare speak to her?” Apollos voice was a low snarl. “You? Who pressed a blade to her throat and called it devotion?” He leaned down, his voice softening to something far more dangerous. “Direct another word at her, make her shed another tear for you, I will turn your fields into ash myself. You are not fit to speak her name, let alone defile my alter with her blood. She is worth more than all of you combined. The sound of her breath matters more than your entire village. When she cried, I heard her. When she bled, I felt it. When she whispered my name, I came."

The priest sobbed into his own, knotted hands, not daring to direct his gaze at his god. “We only wanted to restore balance! We thought a sacrifice-”

But Apollo cut him off with a snarl. “A sacrifice? Tell me, when your harvest failed, did you cut your own throat? Did you offer your life? No? How strange." Hate was laced into every tone of his voice as he rose and slowly walked back up the steps, his gaze still firmly locked on them. "I could make your bones glow with fire. Turn you into torches to light my way. Shall I teach you what true suffering is? Shall I let you taste what you so eagerly prepared for her? Perhaps I should deliver you to my sister, let the beasts have you. Let the wolves rip the flesh from your bones while the crows pluck at your eyes."

“Please!” elder Xanthos cried in utter desperation, tears streaming down his webbed cheeks. “Mercy!”

But the plea only elicited a cold laugh from your god. "You beg me for mercy with the same mouth that condemned her? I will not be merciful. Not for this."

Apollo lifted his hand, and fire bloomed in his palm- not wild and chaotic, but controlled, precise, as if each flicker of flame carried the weight of his will. The golden light swelled, casting jagged shadows as the elders screamed, their bodies consumed in an instant. He didn’t turn to watch them burn. Instead, he stepped in front of you, his broad frame blocking the sight of their writhing silhouettes. The glow of the flames haloed around him, but not a trace of heat reached your skin. His hand hovered just above your cheek, trembling with the remnants of his fury, yet when he finally touched you, his fingers were impossibly gentle.

You were shaking all over, thoughts racing, eyes squeezed shut, as you wished you could drown out the sounds of their fiery deaths. Alas, the glow subsided, and when you threw a cautious look over Apollo’s shoulder, you saw they had been reduced to ash. “Shh,” he said, but despite the calming sound, when you looked up at him, his eyes were still ablaze with fury. His soft lips pressed a kiss onto your temple before he moved towards the door- fast, determined. But you couldn't let him.

Despite the weakness in your knees, you managed to catch up to him before he reached the entrance gates. Before them, the village people had lowered themselves onto their knees, witnesses to their elders destruction and fearfully awaiting their fate. But you couldn't have that- in spite of the pain they had caused you, they were still your people. You knew you should have felt anger, but it had subsided and given way to pity. So you stepped before Apollo, clutching the remaining fabric of your dress over your chest in an attempt to retain some dignity.

Your heart skipped a beat when you looked into his eyes- brimming with fury, with godly wrath. You had never seen him like this- only ever experienced him as a gentle lover, his soft touches and teasing smiles, his kind reassurances and his hand holding yours as he made you feel better than any mortal man ever could have. Never like this. You almost didn't recognize him. Apollo looked deadly. Scary, even to you. Your breath constricted in your throat, but you forced the words out. “Please, Apollo,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “don't hurt them. I beg you. Haven't they suffered enough?"

He simply stared at you, as if he couldn't believe the words had left your mouth. Part of you didn't either. His voice was sharp when he spoke, and you suppressed a shudder. “They cheered as they dragged you to the altar. They watched you bleed. And you ask for their lives?" His voice had risen to a harsh snarl and when he reached out for you, you flinched. You couldn't help it, it was a natural mortal instinct, this close to unshielded divinity.

But his brows furrowed at your action, and when he spoke, his voice was hollow, his gaze devastated. “Are you afraid of me?” His eyes flickered over your expression, saw right through you, and you found yourself unable to hide your true feelings from him. Drawing a shaky breath, you hesitantly glanced up at him. "I saw what you did to them... I've never seen you like that." Your voice was so small it was barely audible, but he, of course, could make out the words, and they seemed to hit him like a brick wall.

Taking a step back, his eyes darkened with grief. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, the remnants of his wrath still simmering beneath his golden skin like embers refusing to die. "I would set the world on fire for you. Do you not understand that?"

“I know,” you said, voice shaking, and in your desperation, you fell to your knees before him, clutching the torn fabric of your dress to your chest, words tumbling from your mouth in frantic, broken pleas. “Please, Apollo, let them go. I can't bear this.”

This village, these people, were all you had ever known, all you had loved. Even though they hadn't lifted a finger to help you, had cheered your public humiliation, you could not be responsible for their deaths- it would forever haunt you. The elders dying you were okay with, they were a corrupt lot of old men who'd salvitated at the sight of your ripped dress and ordered your death despite their own greed. But in your eyes, the villagers were innocent- not in his, though.

Apollo watched you, stricken, his expression caught somewhere between rage and devastation. His hands- hands that had held you like you were something holy- curled into trembling fists at his sides. He knelt before you slowly, carefully, like he was approaching something fragile and wild. The god who had just brought such lethal destruction now looked terrified to so much as breathe wrong in your presence. But there was a terrible, aching violence in the way he shook, his divinity still thrumming through the air like a storm that hadn’t passed. “Don’t,” he rasped, voice raw, stepping toward you. When you flinched, a sound escaped him - something wounded, something desperate. “Don’t look at me like that.”

When you looked up, you were shocked to find tears brimming in his eyes, drops of gold. You hadn't known gods could cry. But in spite of his grief, his rage was still palpable and his voice dripped with venom when his gaze flickered over the kneeling townspeople. “They applauded your suffering. They deserve to choke on their guilt.”

“You're better than this!” you sobbed, reaching out to take his hands.

At first, they were stiff in yours, before his fingers interlaced with yours and he tilted his head at you, his rage somewhat taken over by an intense sadness. “No,” he said, voice faltering, “You are better. I am a god. I am not kind.” His rage hadn’t faded- not fully. It lingered just beneath his skin, a seething thing barely leashed. But it was the sight of you bowing to him, begging like a supplicant, that finally broke him. “Stand up,” he whispered, voice fractured. “You don’t kneel for me. Not you.”

“You are kind,” you disagreed with him, giving into his pull and letting him lift you to your feet, your legs barely carrying your weight. “You are to me.”

Slowly, as if every touch could set you off, Apollo lowered his head and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to your head. Beneath your fingertips, you could feel his rage subsiding slowly. He let out a shaky breath against your hair and you leaned your head against him, exhaustion settling on every single one of your bones. “Please,” you whispered, knowing you almost had him. “Can we just go?” You swallowed heavily. “Just… anywhere?”

“Ἀγαπητή," (Agapētē = Beloved) he sighed, and some of the tension seemed to seep out of him, the flickering blaze in his eyes calming. “Forgive me,” he pleaded, and you stiffened as his tone turned into that of a desperate beggar. “Don't fear me, my love, don't flinch away from my touch.”

“I don't,” you breathed against him. He was stabilizing your whole body weight by now, but he didn't seem to mind. His arms only tightened around your waist. “I could never.”

It was all too much- the sensations of the day, the lingering heat, the gruesome sight of the elders burning, and now hundreds of eyes boring into you as Apollo held you gently, so unlike the way he'd threatened their lives. You were the only thing that could calm a storm like this, like him. “I love you,” was the last thing you managed to whisper before exhaustion overtook you and sleep pressed down your eyelids. He must have caught you when you slumped against him, because you felt like you were flying and heard his voice in your ear:

APOLLO

There was perhaps no greater blessing for you personally than listening to Apollo sing, and once one witnessed him, they would find themselves aggreing with you. Which was why you had no objection when Apollo interrupted your little make out session on his settee to ask you wether he could play a song for you. Quite the opposite, actually. But now, you almost regretted it, because you felt like your head was about to explode.

His golden eyes were locked to yours, making you unable to turn your head and hide from the might of his words. Endless praise and adoration fell from his lips in the most beautiful melody. You suddenly realized you were crying, but you made no attempt to wipe the tears away as you were frozen in place, growing hotter by the minute. With newfound intensity, Apollo recited the next verses, lips pulled into a little smile as he flooded your poor helpless mind with words of devotion.

You couldn't do this any longer, you buried your burning face in your hands, overwhelmed by his divine love. The way each word sounded so genuine you began to doubt the very existence of the lie. Nearly shaking, you pulled your legs to your chest and whined. "Oh gods, please stop, it's too much!"

A soft coo made you look back up at him as Apollo played some closing strings and put the lyre aside to pull you into his lap, right were the lyre had sat. Hiding your face in your chest, you attempted to conceal the deep red of your cheeks. "You can't just say stuff like that," you muffled into his tunic and a soft rumble made his chest vibrate.

"Like what?" he asked, caressing your hidden face with his index finger before placing it underneath your chin, guiding your face up to look at him. "It's all true. Every time I look at you, my sunshine, I am lifted, gazing upon a masterpiece that must've been sculpted by a god. Or perhaps, you are your own artist?" Apollo allowed himself a little grin when you let out a loud whine and slapped his chest. Gently, his fingers closed around your wrist as he guided it to his lips to trail kisses up your arm.

"Your smile could rival the warmth of spring itself—it awakens my heart as surely as the season revives the earth." His words were blooming as always, masterfully crafted sentences praising you, as his lips, hushed into a soft whisper, trailed up your arm. "No lyre could ever match the harmony of your laughter. My music is a mere attempt to echo your perfection. You are as brilliant as all the stars of the night sky. Every word you speak is a melody to my ears, every thought of yours a revelation."

His lips reached your shoulder, making their way to your throat that was taken over by a bright pink tone, it felt like your whole body blushed, like the pink blossoms in spring. "You're going to be the death of me," you said breathlessly, burying your hands in his hair and keeping his head in place in the crook of your neck, so he couldn't talk any more of his charming words.

Apollo laughed into your neck, it muffled the sound but couldn't lessen the melody of it. A shuddering breath left your lips as you pulled him closer, and though they flustered you, you savored his words, remembering every little phrase to keep in your heart forever.

HERMES

Gods curse the day Hermes found out you had a praise kink. Because ever since he had realized how much his compliments flustered you, he exploited it maliciously. Humming sweet praises into your ear when you were going about your day and doing the most mundane things, leaving you blushing and spluttering as he retracted with a cackle. Giving you the sweetest compliments anytime he would find you unsuspecting, with your guard down, and utterly humiliating you as your heart would start to race and all you could muster up were weak stutters of embarrassment.

So, when he plopped down on the couch next to you, stretching his limbs after a long day of godly duties and regarding you with that cheeky, mischievous smile, you knew what ideas formed in his head, as if you were able to read his thoughts. Immediately, your flight instinct kicked in as you retreated into the kitchen as quickly as possible- though not fast enough. In the blink of an eye, the sneaky god had caught up to you and dragged you back into the couch with him, pulling you into his lap.

His nose nudged your chin and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "How's my beautiful girlfriend doing today?" Ignoring your petty kicking, he giggled. "You know I'm faster than you, you know I know my way around you- though, you know, you’ve got this spark about you—like you could talk your way out of anything. It’s kind of my thing, but I think you do it better."

"You're insufferable," you sighed, though you felt your cheeks heat up embarrassingly. When his fingers trailed over your stomach, you squeaked and pushed them away, making Hermes throw back his head in a loud laugh. For a moment, you were mesmerized by him- the sound of his laugh, the bounce of his curly hair, the way his face lit up, eyes squeezed shut and cheeks pink. Then, he started talking once more.

"I used to think of myself as the best of thieves," Hermes sighed, drawing circles on your thigh. "But you outdo my trickery, love, as you have stolen my heart away from right under my nose." Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush, you thought to yourself, but you knew you were as red as a tomato by now. Stuttering out protests, you felt your stomach constrict in the best way and tried to wiggle out of his arms, a fruitless attempt.

Turning your head, you glared at him, but only got a cheeky smile in return. Hermes tipped his hat and chuckled. "Gods, you're so hot when you're mad." You gave him a deadpan stare and his smile only widened. "And so cute when you're blushing like this. Honestly, sweetheart, I think you could make everything more sexy."

In a final attempt to cut him off before you could make a complete fool of yourself (even more so than you'd already done), you crashed your lips into his. And of course, Hermes would never deny you, so his eager hand shot up to cup your face and tilt it in order to get a better angle to kiss you completely senseless on his lap.

Little did he know, you had been waiting for this moment of weakness. With his hands busying themselves with cradling your face, you jumped out of his lap, evaded his reaching arms and ran upstairs, laughing breathlessly. Of course, he could've caught up with you in an instance, but Hermes seemed determined to give you a fair chase, because when you reached the highest stair, you could hear his voice, still from downstairs.

"Baby, I think that was just about the hottest thing I ever saw."

DIONYSUS

"No cuddles with that breath" you protested, dismissing your lover's drunken attempts to wrap his arms around you. Whining, Dionysus forced himself halfway into your lap, in spite of your slapping at his chest and arms, looking up at you with dreamy eyes, glazed over by the effect of whatever alcohol emitted its odeurs from his mouth. Rolling your eyes, you attempted to shove him off. "If you want to bother someone, go and hang out with your brothers."

"Nooo," Dioynsus gave a long, drawn out protest and you found yourself lamenting how he could be a thousand years old and this childish at the same time. "You are more fun," the god pouted, squinting up at you. You complimented yourself on showing no reaction whatsoever on the outside, but your insides secretly did somersaults.

"If you want fun, why don't you throw a party?" you said dismissively, flicking his temple to which he responded with another whine. At your words, a drunken little smile creeped onto his face. "You make everything more fun, even doing nothing. I swear, you’re better than wine… and that’s saying something."

"If I'm better than wine, how come that's what you have been drinking for the last hours?" you asked with a raised brow. With a genuinely shocked expression, Dionyuss shot up and stared at you wide-eyed. "You're right. I should have been drinking you, you are so much sweeter-"

Groaning, you buried your face in a pillow, considering to suffocate yourself before he could see the blush on your cheeks. Then again, how receptive could he be, in his state? Turns out, very receptive. When you discarded the pillow, his eyes hushed over the pink on your cheeks and he cooed. "Aw, baby, do you like it when I tell you how sweet you are?"

Ignoring your stubborn but whispered 'no thank you', Dionysus threw an arm around your shoulder, continuing to brabble compliments and praises into your ear. Embarrassingly, your cheeks burned even more and the god laughed joyfully.

☀️ APOLLO falls for you when he hears you sing

☛ there was nothing you would rather do on a sunday afternoon than have an exhausted god resting on your lap and running your fingers through his hair. right after coming home from his godly duties, apollo had swept you away to this remote flower field in the mortal realm. a glistening stream splashed lightly in your ears as you watched apollo, the way the sun kissed his cheeks and showed his freckles, the way he seemed to glow with a golden hue. his divinity on full display, and at the same time, the visible tiredness made him look more human.

subconsciously, you started humming a tune. a lullaby for your sleeping god as your fingers drew small circles on his scalp. in his slumber, a little huff left his lips that fanned your wrist and you smiled affectionately. it was almost too natural, the way your tune turned into a melody and the way that your humming turned into words, but you couldn't help a grin when you serrated to sing in a low voice. "here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo, here comes the sun..."

when apollo was around, poets got inspired, artists creative and people couldn't get catchy melodies out of their heads. wherever he went, he often left the mortals singing and dancing. if he did not say so himself, his voice was ethereal, the most beautiful tune one's ear could ever be blessed with, captivating, divine, amazing. he used to think his was and would always be the most perfect voice in the world, but the one filling his ears as he slowly regained consciousness shook him to his very core.

it only took him a few seconds to realize he was listening to you, singing to him. though a little hushed, your voice was stunning to him, the most ethereal tune and he was definitely not biased. you were ethereal. feeling your soft fingers in his hair, listening to your melodic voice, it was heaven to him. when he carefully cracked his eyes open, you were hovering over him with your adoring eyes and beautiful smile.

as soon as he opened his eyes though, you fell silent and averted your eyes. unfortunately, you misinterpreted his frown for judgement of your very much imperfect vocal abilities and your embarrassment worsened even further. to sing in the presence of the god of music- what had you been thinking? "sorry," you chuckled and looked away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"why'd you stop?" surprised, you looked down at the god and swallowed, seeing his clear green eyes. wondering how to convey the obvious, that being your mediocre singing abilities, you big your lip and looked away, when you heard him hum. his voice was a soft, melodic whisper until he started to gently continue the tune. "little darlin', it's been a long, cold, lonely winter. little darlin', it feels like years since it's been here" his voice stunned you. it was beyond beautiful, beyond pleasing. when you began to well up at it's perfection, you felt silly, but your heart clenched and fluttered hearing him sing.

but he didn't continue, looking at you expectantly, like he was waiting for you to do something. correctly interpreting his body language, you gasped. "no-"

"yes!" he cut you off, sounding delighted and a little deranged. with one fluid motion, he sat up and reached for your clasping hands.

"you should be ashamed of yourself, that you want me to embarrass myself like that," you snorted and looked to the side, avoiding eye contact. "truly, you are cruel."

"embarrass yourself?" he asked, and again with those furrowed brows. "darling, that was beautiful."

light, warm fingers came up to trace your features gently and you saw no lie in his eyes. "you are biased," you accused him and pushed against his chest because him being so near made you unable to think straight. like a strong parfume, sweet but messing with all other senses.

"maybe," apollo smiled. he was resting on his back once more and he hadn't once enjoyed being pushed into a flower field like right now. "but that's how I hear it. and, last time i checked, i'm still the god if music so i would say i have some authority in the matter." his finger came up to trace your lips and his gaze got so heavy and so ... heated that blood shot like hot water into your cheeks. "sing with me?"

well, how could you possibly refuse him when he was looking at you like that? "i- but only a little," you said, feeling shy. "and if you make fun of me I swear, I will never sing again!"

"what a loss for the world and, more importantly, for me that would be," the sun god smiled and his eyes trailed down to your lips. "well, then.. sing, lover"

and when you gave up your resolve and sang the refrain with him, his heart burst with giddiness and he knew; he was head over heels in love with you.

💘EROS falls for you when you give him valentine chocolates

☛ valentine's day was the busiest day of the year for eros, so it was no surprise that he arrived late to your date when he usually was the first of you two at everything. after he spammed your phone with a thousand apology texts about how he was a horrible date and offering to drown himself in tartarus for eternity if you asked for it, he did manage to get his job done for the day and was now sprinting towards you, nearly trampling a satyr waiter of the cafe you a made a reservation at.

at least the view of him toppling over and trying not to destroy the valentine decorations with his wings was easing your nerves a little. you had been fawning over the god for a while now and when he asked you out two days ago, you nearly combusted with excitement. at the same time, though, eros had the tendency to make you very flustered. even though you had known him for years, your breath still got shaky and your hands sweaty whenever he so much as smiled at you.

like right now, when he spotted you from across the room and sent a bashful smirk your way. Under the table, your hands tightened around the heart-shaped box of valentine chocolates and you beamed back, unable to contain the happiness you felt.

"i am so unspeakably sorry i'm late," he panted upon arriving at the table. checking his reflection in the nearby mirror subtly, he ran his hand through his bronze locks and flashed you a seductive grin, though he still seemed a little out of breath. "tell me how to make it up to you."

"you're only ten minutes late," you smiled as your insides fluttered. his damn smile made your stomach do cartwheels.

"ten minutes i didn't get to spend with you," he argued and only now let his gaze wonder over the parts of your body visible. "love, you look beautiful. can't believe i've missed out on this sight"

damn charmer.

"speaking of beautiful," he continued and reached down to pull a giant flower bouquet out of nowhere, in your favorite color. "though it doesn't come close to your beauty, it reminded me of you."

by now you were just as red as the rose decorations. shyly, you stretched your arms out over the table to take the bouquet. "busy day?" you asked, placing it beside you and picking out a particularly colorful flower to put behind your ear.

"you would not believe how many arrows i shot today," he said, reaching over to take your hand over the table. "apparently, everyone is just as head over heels for a wonderful person in their life as I am"

you didn't know what in the world to answer with. a love declaration? just smiling? saying thank you? you opted instead to reach under the table and pull out the valentines chocolates. it was a pink box, you picked it specifically because it had a little cupid drawing on top. "i hope you like chocolates."

"oh, i love-" eros gaze dropped to the heart shaped box and suddenly, his heart seized. as if he had just been shot by his own arrow. you had given him valentine chocolates. cute. he couldn't explain why his tummy exploded with butterflies at the simple action but he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. he had to remember to breathe and when he did, he breathed out "-you."

🪽HERMES falls for you when you kiss him on the cheek

☛ "when are you finished?" hermes whined for the fifth time in the last minute and pulled his lips into a pout. the only acknowledgment coming from you was a deadpan stare over the edge of your book. not only had he come by unannounced and without a reason, now he was annoying you in your scheduled reading time. and as if that wasn't bad enough, he also looked so cute doing it you felt the urge to kick his face that currently invaded your private zone by burying itself in your tummy.

"come back in half an hour and maybe i'll be finished then," you murmured, already invested in your book again.

"half an hour?!" hermes cried dramatically and sneaked his arms around your waist. "but I'm busy!"

"hm, is that right?" you sighed and nudged his shoulder. "get back to work and leave me alone, then."

"come on," he said and a sly smile took over his face. "dont'cha want to come with me? fly over a few countries, live in the flash for a day... it would be far more exciting than your book!"

"my book is very exciting," you mumbled, already caught up in the story again. not for long, though, as hermes began to complain under his breath, muffled by your belly that still served as his pillow. you peaked past your book and couldn't help but find the sight utterly endearing. when he looked up, you quickly hid behind your book again and heard him laugh.

your face burned up when the affectionate god sat up, only to prop himself down next to you and lean his head on your shoulder. "do you know for how long you have been reading this one page? ten minutes,"

"oh, and why might that be?" you grinned, though his teasing tone tinted your cheeks pink. "maybe because this pain-in-the-ass of a god won't leave me alone."

"admit it, you have fallen for me," he retorted, poking your side with his deft fingers. "and you will miss me dearly when i am gone, impatiently awaiting my return so i can whisk you away as i do in your daydreams."

"well, you are quite the dreamer," you mused and put your book down. "let's make a deal. today i read this book, tomorrow i am all yours. 'mkay?" and to silence any further protests, you pressed a kiss to his cheek and pushed him off the bed.

you expected a retort, another teasing comment, anything, which was why you were confused by the following silence. looking over the edge of your bed, you found him sitting there, looking up at you dumb-struck and with very rosy cheeks. the spot where you had kissed him tingled and hermes head was wiped clean of any funny reply, just full of you, you, you and the feeling of your lips on his cheek.

"i- okay," he finally managed to say and walked over to your windows with weak knees. falling for him my ass. he was head over heels in love with you.

🗡️ARES falls for you when you slap someone

☛ your smile was so tight your cheekbones were aching, but you kept your calm. if ares, who would yell at a pigeon staring at him in the park and almost give your mom a heart attack when he started a fight at the last family get-together you invited him to, could restrain himself right now, you could as well. firsthand, you knew how protective ares was of his friends and family, you belonging to the former. for him to not remodel the face of your ex whom your mom had invited to her birthday party and who had cheated on you twice, it had to take a lot of meditation and begging from you.

but now it looked like you were about to violate your own principles. by violating the absolute train wreck of a bad person that was your ex. luckily, ares was in some other corner of the room, having a stare-down with your dad, but you felt like you could mess this man up real good even without his help. you were really not one for violence -ignoring the odd choice of plus one- but right now you felt rage burn inside you as this pathetic excuse of a man tried to rile you up to boost his ego.

"listen, i think i'm going to go grab me a drink now," you said, overplaying your anger with a stiff politeness this piece of trash didn't deserve. "nice talk."

"yeah, whatever," the guy drawled. "back to that hunk of a date you brought, huh? i see your going for the looks now. not that you ever cared about anything else, you girls are all the same."

"if i was going off of looks i would have never dated you," you bit back and turned around to leave when his sweaty hand closed around your wrist tightly. "hey, let go!" you hissed but he didn't budge, only stepping closer so all you could smell was his excessive deodorant.

"what, does he fuck better than me?" he snarled and lowered his voice. the hand that wasn't holding your wrist hostage wandered down your back where you definitely didn't want it. "wanna give it a second try?"

SMACK

before you yourself knew it, you had struck him across the face with your free hand, resulting in a sound that made the room fall silent, all eyes in you two. as your ex stumbled back, he let go of your wrist and you locked eyes with ares, expecting him to jump at the opportunity for a fight. but instead, you only saw him looking at you, with a sort of awe-struck expression that really didn't suit the occasion.

he was almost too beautiful to bear in his sleep. running a gentle finger over the soft skin of his cheek, you couldn't help but be reminded of the renaissance painting figures, just as frail and untouchable. it made you sad, though you couldn't have named a specific reason for the sudden wave of melancholy that hit you. your hand travelled from his face to his neck, over his shoulders and brushed against his muscular back, but your eyes were still fixed on his face. on the golden locks that gently swayed in the light breeze, the huffing from his pink lips, his long lashes. what did gods dream about? what did your god dream about?

it was only after a few minutes that you found the strength to look away from your lover. as quietly as you could, you slipped out from under the thin covers. there was no need for heavy blankets when you could trust there would always be summer at your residence and you had your own personal heater laying next to you in bed. when your bare feet met the floor, you allowed yourself one quick look back at apollo. the sudden wish to draw him, his sleeping face, his ethereal youthfulness, his incomprehensible beauty and the sun kissed golden locks overcame you. but at the same time, you knew you would never be up to the task. no one would ever be.

you rose from the bed and tip-toed over to the closet to grab a dress to cover your naked body with. the slight wobble in your step served as a reminder of the night before and you felt heat creep up to your face merely thinking about it. you got dressed quickly and hurried out of the bedroom. normally, it was apollo who would be up first, already greeting you with a delicious breakfast and good morning kisses, ignoring your objections because of morning breath. now that you were up first for once, you decided to return the favor.

apollo had added a kitchen to his palace, just for his mortal lover. as a god, he was able to produce foods from his bare hands and ambrosia was always available to him. you being into cooking and baking had been new to him, but he happily indulged in your hobby and supported it, even by altering his own home.

as the kitchen was illuminated by the golden lights of dawn, you got to work to prepare pancakes. stirring the dough, you let your mind wander, and inevitably, it lead you back to last night. the touches of his hands, the kisses, and most importantly, the whispered promises and desperate pleas spoken in the heat of the moment. to have a god worship you like this was possibly the best thing to ever happen to your self-confidence.

just as you were preparing the stove, two warm arms closed in around you like a trap and your defenseless body was pulled back into a warm chest. after a second of panic, you recognized the smell, the breathing pattern, the touch of apollo whose strong arms had you in a tight embrace. with a shuddering breath, the god lowered his face to your neck where you could feel him breathe in your scent. entirely engulfed by his warmth, his taller figure, you had no choice but to pause what you were doing and let him consume you completely.

but immediately, you sensed that something was off. maybe it was instinct, maybe the god and you were connected on a whole other level by now, maybe it was the way his breath shuddered and heaved slightly, the way his fingers curled into your sides a little too much for your comfort. after a failed attempt of turning around to face him apollo didn't even seem to take notice of, you called out his name softly and brought a gentle hand to his face that was still buried in your neck. "love?"

begrudgingly, it seemed, apollo raised his head from your neck and allowed you to turn around in his arms. a tight smile pulled at his lips, but it was missing the radiant shining of his usual ones. he more so seemed like he was in pain and you frowned. "apollo-"

"hm, is my little wife making breakfast for me?" he asked with a forced cheerfulness. apollo loved to call you his wife, even though you weren't married since he was a god and you a mortal. the smile still didn't reach his eyes and your frown deepened. as if he could lie to you. sensing your unease, apollo leaned over comically dramatic to dip his finger into the dough. you knew it was a diversion, and he knew that you knew when you didn't even try to stop him.

"apollo, what's wrong?"

"nothing's wrong, silly," he smiled, unnervingly so, still missing the usual sparkle in his golden eyes. "or is there?" gentle, strong arms spun you back around until you were facing your dough and his head dipped once more. there was no way to suppress the goosebumps spreading over your skin when his lips brushed barely along your ear, like a breath, like a memory. "do you have an ache i can tend to my love? how about ... here?" his fingers hovered over your crotch, tips brushing against the fabric of your dress and he smirked at you mischievously like a cat cornering a mouse.

"you can't distract me with sex, my love," you said softly but with a stern undertone. taking a step back and folding your arms over your chest, you took him in completely. golden locks disheveled from slumber, chest bare and decorated with your marks and only a loincloth hiding his crotch. "what's wrong?" you asked again with a pleading tone to your voice. "talk to me, please"

a flash of pain crossed his beautiful eyes and it was such a heart wrenching sight, though just visible for a millisecond, that it knocked the breath from your lungs. "i'm fine," he whispered, but his eyes were fixed at a spot just above your brow. the answer did little to convince you, as it missed the usual extravaganza and poetry and beauty that filled every single one of the phrases that escaped the god of poetry's mouth.

almost tearing up seeing him in distress, you took a step towards him and closed your smaller fingers, still a little stuck with pancake dough, around his spotless, bigger hands. they did their best trying to warm him up. "please," you begged. "let me help you, my love"

"i'm fine," he repeated and lowered his head. you gasped in shock when he fell to his knees on the ground, still holding onto your hands. "you're fine"

now, you weren't that dense and at his words, you immediately sensed what was wrong. bringing your hands from his hands that immediately latched onto your thighs in a desperate need to ground himself, to his face to lift it up. you gave him a gentle smile. "yes, i am. very much alive and very much still human instead of vegetation"

the god let out a dry, heartbroken laugh and now the pain was on full display, twisted his beautiful features and your insides as a dull ache. his eyes wandered over your face, as if in an effort to engrave it into his memory. "you mortals are so fragile. like painted glass in a chapel. pretty, divine, easy to break, and your colors paint me, too, and your shards, they hurt me, make me bleed" his grip on your thighs tightened. "love..."

for a while, there you stood, still and composed like a marble statue. the god at your feet, holding onto your plush thighs, and you hovering over him, trying to breathe from the pain you felt when your love was hurting. "i'm sorry," you finally breathed. neither your brain nor your tongue, that were this flawed compared to your artist, could think of the fitting words, reassurances. "i never meant to- i'm sorry i- and for everyone you lost-"

"you," he whispered and you had to lower your hand a little so your flawed mortal ears could make out the words. seeming close to tears, he angled his head up to expose his eternal pain to you. "i dreamt that i lost you." his hands twitched and he held onto your thighs more tightly. "woke up and you weren't there and for a moment i knew... i just knew you would be gone too, and it would be my fault."

your fingers cradled his face as you tried to remain calm and steady for him. but gods, it was hard when seeing him like this broke your heart as well, pinched your heartstrings painfully and you had to fight the stinging in your eyes. "do you dream about that often?" you asked him softly as your fingertips grazed his cheekbones in an attempt to offer comfort.

"sometimes," he whispered.

never had you seen a god cry. apollos tears had a golden hue to them, like a river at sunset, and you couldn't help it, your vision got blurry as well. you wanted to be strong for him, you really did, but you weren't able to bear this. "forgive me, my love," apollos wept softly and even now, it still was like a melody. "forgive me"

"there is nothing to forgive, darling," you reminded him and crouched down to his level to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. "i'm okay. i'm here. and i don't intend to go anywhere anytime soon." a shaky breath, a silenced sob and he returned the embrace, engulfing your body fully. his arms had you in a tight lock, a desperate plea to keep your promise.

for a while, you just sat there on the kitchen floor. breakfast was long forgotten and, embracing each other, you watched the sun's light illuminate the room more with each passing minute. apollo's tears dried up eventually and his fingers began stroking your hair and kneading the plush of your thigh tenderly. after pressing a few kisses to your scalp, he was the first to break the silence. "would you believe me if i told you you are the best thing that ever happened to me?"

"i would find that a little hard to believe, you have lived for over a millennia after all," you smiled and his fingers drummed against your skin in response.

a thoughtful hum rumbled in his chest and his fingers played with the hem of your dress. "looks like i have to make a song to prove my point, then." there was a shift in his tone. this tone, a subtle show of his godly might, had a shiver run down your spine. "not just to you. it will be a composition so great it will stun all of olympus. a tune that will make my father himself melt. a song in exchange for your immortality, my love"

a surprised little gasp left your throat and you looked up from his chest to meet his eyes. they were determined and oh so full of love when he looked down at you, still caged in his arms. the topic of immortality had rarely come up between the two of you, and though you knew you would gladly spent the rest of your life with apollo, you didn't know wether he wanted to commit to you for eternity. too stunned to speak and not able to grasp any of the boiling feelings rumbling inside of you, you could only wrap your arms around his middle once more and hide your face in his chest as you felt the heat creep up your cheeks.

"darling, why are you hiding from me?" you could hear the grin in his teasing voice and begrudgingly looked up at him. finally, your god was smiling again, as radiant as the sun he was. "hm, you do realize i just proposed, don't you?" he asked as he tilted your chin upwards with his index finger.

"are you sure?" you blurted out and he frowned. "sure? of course I'm sure. are you not, lovely? because we can wait. i have time. until you are ready, yeah?"

"i am ready," you insisted, meeting his gaze with the same determination. "it's just... are you sure you want to keep me around for eternity?"

"keep you around?," he repeated and chuckled. seconds later, you found yourself sitting on the counter with the god standing in between your legs, his hands on your waist. "my love, my sunshine, every day for the rest of our immortal lives, i will worship you. i will forever praise the day you let me into your life, never take you for granted. i will always stay true to you and if i should ever wrong you, you may pierce me with my own arrows and throw me into the depths of tartarus."

"Now that's a marriage proposal," you joked to mask your flustered state. "How can I say no to that?" there was a sudden fire burning in his eyes, one that you knew all too well and you had the suspicion that you wouldn't get to finish the pancakes anytime soon.