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idksmtms · 3 months

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You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 1

Full Request

AN: OMGGGG my first request! And it’s an absolute banger too??? I feel like a queen, I truly do.

I know the original request was more about Marvel-based Norse mythology but I’m not a Marvel fan so I went with original Norse mythology! Hope that’s ok!

-Also yes, this is a place where we pretend the Hades-Persephone myth isn’t as messed up as it actually is and is a sweet love story instead, fuck off-

-I know Hestia is supposed to be a virgin goddess and never marry but like… I’m thinking of a cute hearth goddess and how she could love Hephaestus and I want that for them-

Final PS. that corner pic of Toby Stephens doesn't fit the rest of the aesthetic, I know, but I saw it while searching and it had me quivering so I had to add it.

Summary: Zeus and Odin have brought peace to the worlds of the gods. With peace comes love. But all is NOT fair in love and war.

Word count: 6,187

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they both thousands of years old), god racism?? Idk they act like “foreigner gods” is a bad thing, lusting, liking the fact that he looks older (is this a warning???), (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

It was the dawn of a new era when Kronos was thrown to Tartarus. His evil had touched more than just the world of the Greek gods, sending ripples through the very world of mythology itself. Though the worlds of the Norse and the Grecians were thousands of miles away, their gods had often met on the battlefields. A multitude of stories, now lost to time, told of the wars of snow and sand, told of the loves made and broken between viking idols and spartan gods. But upon the ‘death’ of Kronos, the new king of the gods found himself in a forgiving mood. Odin too, having given up so much for wisdom, realised the best way forward was to have peace in all aspects under his control, once and for all.

The two gods met deep in a forest exactly halfway between what is now Greece and Norway, a forest that eventually became the town of Vlasim in the Czech Republic. No one other than the two kings knows what was said in order for the peace pact to be made, but they left with promises of order, friendship, and an invitation for the Asgardians to visit the stronghold that is Mount Olympus.

When Zeus returned with this news, they all rejoiced and began ensuring Mount Olympus looked better than it ever had before. After all, they still needed to outshine these other supposed “gods”. Hera took charge of ensuring the entire place glowed, already beginning to argue with Demeter on how the flowers would look best. Aphrodite was already picking out her best dresses and sprucing up her hair, Artemis and Apollo hopping off to go hunting for some creature that would show their true prowess to the Asgardians (secretly hoping they would make it back in time). Dionysus was left in charge of the entertainment, though he was quickly focused only on providing wine for the entire table, and Hephaestus and Hestia found comfort in quiet corners of the room, watching all the chaos unfold. Hades had been unbothered, promising he would show up with Persephone when the Asgardians arrived and nothing more before disappearing in a puff of smoke back to the underworld and no doubt the loving arms of his wife. Poseidon was… well he didn’t know how he felt. If he was honest, he was beginning to feel old. Life as a god wasn’t all it was cut out to be, and it had been dragging a bit recently. His millennia of existence were beginning to catch up to him and he wasn’t sure how to jumpstart his enjoyment again. He had even taken to wearing an older form recently, a man still in his prime, but one with the wisdom of a thousand years subtly showing itself in the lines around his eyes and mouth. A man still corded in muscle but with the stockiness, width, and strength of one who had had one hundred lifetimes to hone it. This seemed like exactly the kind of thing he needed to reintroduce excitement to his life. Though Zeus had not included him in the peace talks, he was happy to be part of the governing that came after, to help maintain the peace between the gods. For once he felt he could happily commend his brother for a job well done.

And he was excited to meet these new gods, apprehensive too of course, but… excited. It would be a good opportunity to measure themselves up to the others in their world, to truly decide if they were as invincible as they believed they were. Poseidon believed it was important for the gods to have a wake-up call every now and again to their fragility, and he was sure this would be one of them.

Across the world, in the realm of Asgard and the halls of Valhalla, ale was poured and songs were sung as the gods rejoiced. Odin sat on his throne high above the others as some danced, some fought, some feasted, and some passed out from too much of everything too soon. Odin watched over them all with one of his rare smiles, a hand resting atop the one Frigg had placed on the arm of his throne. Even Loki, occasional friend, occasional enemy, had joined for this celebration. He was proud of what he had achieved, of the worthy sacrifices he had made, to not only bring him eternal wisdom, but to bring peace between two races of gods. Odin turned to Frigg, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She blushed, turning to him and pressing one on his cheek in return.

“Everything is well?” She asked, caressing his cheek just under the eye he had given up.

“Perfect,” he sighed, then looked back out to the dancefloor where his children now pranced jokingly.

Thor laughed heartily as he began to chug from his mug, froth spilling over the sides of his cheeks as his friends clapped and cheered. Loki even smiled, though he was more caught up in trying to continue his conversation with the little goddess sandwiched between her brother and him. Odin’s youngest child, the newest addition to Asgard, giggled at her brother’s antics and the clever commentary the god of mischief whispered in her ear. She was still young by the standards of the gods, having only seen a thousand sun cycles, and she was treated as such, cherished by all who looked upon the daughter of Odin, the goddess of love, so loved in fact, that Odin had chosen to bestow his own title of god of war onto her. The goddess of love, and war, Y/n Odinsdottir.

You were excited for this trip to Mount Olympus. You had been aware of the Greek gods since your birth but you had not had the opportunity of meeting them in battle. Being only a thousand years old meant you had been coddled for five hundred of them, and though you had been given the title of goddess of war, you still felt you had to earn it. Balancing the powers of love and war was a struggle you were still learning. You had spent the last five hundred years trying to choose the right warriors to bestow your blessing upon, the right vikings to give the power of love (the second being especially difficult as you had only felt familial love thus far). This would be an opportunity to learn from these other gods, to not only enjoy a new era of peace but to build on your own skills.

Odin, Frigg, and Thor enjoyed your excitement, watching with smiles as you pranced about in different dresses wondering which would be the best to wear, brushing out your hair and carefully pinning the dark blue tresses into an updo. Though you often changed the way you looked (shapeshifting came with the job of being a love goddess for all mythologies it seemed), you never changed the blue hair. You had quickly grown fond of it, and the natural movement of hair in that colour reminded you of waves on the ocean, a particular favourite spot of yours. Even past the blue hair, you often wore blue dresses in varying shades, simply because you had come to love the ocean, and thus the colour blue. The other gods often remarked that love was not black nor white, rather it was blue.

On the eve of the grand meeting of the gods, you had sat beside Loki in a stone alcove high above the feast hall of Valhalla, watching the slain heroes rejoice for another evening. Though it was in Loki’s nature to be a trickster, you had come to enjoy his company and often seeked him out when you were bored or nervous. He knew the history of the gods almost as well as Odin, and you enjoyed the way he told his stories with exaggerated voices and dancing movements. You loved learning about all that had happened before you, all the battles the gods had fought, the relationships they had made, long before you were even a thought in Odin’s head. On a night like this, when you had too much energy to just while away the hours, you found Loki and begged him to tell you a story. You were still young, and possibly your power as a love goddess had an influence too, but he found he could never quite say no to you.

“Alright, little goddess, settle in, for tonight I tell you a story of love and perilous heartbreak, a story that involves lovers who should never have met, lovers who had no business being together, and who fate punished for it,” Loki began, eyes sparkling as he gazed deep into your own. You shivered and nodded, excitement and just a hint of fear tickling your spine. You sat back against the stone wall and brought your knees to your chest, resting your chin on top of them and waiting for Loki to begin again.

“So many years ago that neither you nor I were even a thought in the dust, one of the aesir fell in love with a goddess of another land. Though their names and abilities are lost now, we know that the aesir was one of our strongest, almost indestructible. The goddess was special in her own right, among her own people, and these two great clans warred for many centuries. Years and years were spent slaughtering each other’s families, using human battles as their own, bleeding each other dry until there was barely anything left to call them gods.

During one such battle, this aesir had broken through the front lines of the opponents, but was stopped dead in his tracks when he laid eyes upon a beautiful goddess helping to heal what she could. He was enamoured by her, so enamoured that for the first time in any battle he was nicked by an arrow.” Loki paused, seeing the way your eyes widened and began to get teary, and he smiled gently. “Do not worry little goddess, it was only a small cut, and he was able to heal, but the true wound was in his heart. He wanted to find this goddess, to be near her, to love her, and yet every day he had to fight her people, without fail.

One day, he decided to stay back while the others fought, and he snuck over to the other side to try and find his goddess. He disguised himself as a butterfly and fluttered around their camp looking for her. Again, when he found her he was struck dumb by her beauty, and instantly changed into his true form in front of her. She was terrified, and she almost began to yell for help, but he begged her not to. He promised her his life, his very essence as a god, if only she would give him a chance to show her how much he had come to love her. Of course she was apprehensive at first, he was the enemy after all, but she allowed him this.

The aesir took his knife, cut his palm, and dripped his blood onto the ground. With the first drop, he created a new flower and named it Linnea, for her. With the second, he created a flurry of butterflies that would follow after her wherever she would go, do whatever she wished of them. And with the third, he created a thin gold thread. He took one end of the thread and tied it around his wrist before offering the other to her. He said that if she took it, he would bind himself to her, soul to soul. That if she loved him back, they may be separated, but the gold thread would tie them together forever and wherever they may be, they could always follow it back to one another. The goddess, won over by his utter devotion, accepted his offering and promised to love him back until the end of her days.

Each night they separated to their own camps, connected only by the gold thread, and each day while the battles and the war raged on, they would sneak away to far off places to be together and live in a happiness their people couldn’t seem to find. But all was not well for the lovers, for the Norns had spun their threads and knew that the price of their love was one no god could ever pay. And so, one day when the lovers snuck off, a god from this other clan who had been promised this goddess’s hand in marriage decided to follow. He saw this ultimate betrayal and sounded the alarm. Both lovers were dragged back to their camps in shackles, the aesir and the other gods unsure of how to punish them.

The eldest of the aesir knew what must be done. The lovers could never be together, it was simply impossible, and he spoke with the leader of this other clan in a moment of truce. They were both in agreement, and the elder was sent off to complete this task. He ventured to Yggdrasil and found Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld. He had Verðandi remove any memory or thought of the goddess from the aesir’s mind. He had Urðr remove any trace of the goddess from the aesir’s fate. And he had Skuld remove any future with the goddess.

When this was done, the elder returned to the camp and found the god to see if the Norns had worked true. He had no memory of the goddess, and seemed returned as he was to the aesir. On the other side, the same had happened to the goddess with her own fates, any trace of the god removed from her thoughts, memories, fate and future. Everyone thought all was well and normalcy had returned, but both god and goddess felt the eternal tug of a gold thread wrapped around their wrist that no one but them could see. Both attempted to follow it but it seemed to never have an end. They would stand in front of each other, and look straight through the other, never able to see one another again. Forever they were cursed to wonder why they were pulled toward something they could not see, something they would never be able to find.” Loki finished with a sigh, looking at you as you sat curled up against the wall opposite him. You were frowning, tears collected at the corners of your eyes and lip trembling.

“I didn’t like that story,” you mumbled, shaking your head and wiping at your eyes. “What was so wrong with them loving each other?”

“Little goddess, we are terrified of the things we don’t understand. We don’t understand love, we don’t understand why it evades us but not those we hate. We don’t understand why it makes us love those we do not want to love.” Loki began to stand, brushing off his legs and shirt with a shrug.

“Then… then none of you understand me. You are all terrified of me. I am the goddess of love, am I not?” You asked, looking up at him with fearful eyes. But Loki just smiled and patted your head.

“You help us understand love, little goddess. That is why we need you, because without you, we would all be even more lost. Imagine that,” he smirked and chuckled, then walked away, mumbling something about readying for the journey to Olympus.

When the Norse gods began to arrive on Olympus, the Vanir entering first, the gathered horde of Greek gods and goddesses and spirits began to mumble and talk among themselves as they judged the foreigners that now walked among them. The Grecians felt their dressing was superior, their peplos were so white that they would burn the eyes of a human. The gold edging was pure and shined as if it was freshly polished and not thread. The purple cloaks they all donned would bankrupt every village in the human world just to get enough dye to make it look that bright. They were… amused? Intrigued? Maybe even disgusted by the fashion of their guests. They all wore varying shades of red. They had either thin linen garments with animal furs draped across their shoulders and arms, or donned thick tunics of sheepskin and wool pants with leather belts decorated with axes and swords. Both groups were… apprehensive to mingle.

Zeus and Hera sat on their thrones and looked down on their guests, nodding greetings as they watched for Odin and Frigg. Poseidon and Hades sat on their own thrones to the side of their brother. Hades was turned to the side and conversing solely with Persephone who stood just behind his throne, leaning onto it and smiling down at her husband. Poseidon just sat back and watched the gods enter the grand hall, resting his chin on his hand and trying not to yawn with boredom.

The entrance of Odin and Frigg could not be missed. As they crossed the bridge into Mount Olympus, they were surrounded by the Aesir. Odin held Frigg’s hand, both dressed in traditional Viking fashion. Frigg wore a modest woollen strap dress in a shade of red so deep it looked like she had bathed in blood. Her grey eyes were smudged with black on the lids and her hair was braided on both sides and tied back, resting on a black fur stole draped over her shoulders. Odin was dressed completely in black, from his eyepatch to his tunic and sheepskin pants. But his cloak was of the pure white fur of a bear, the edges dragging on the ground behind him.

Thor followed behind his father, dressed as a common viking, but with Mjolnir dangling from his wrist, shiny and almost glowing. Baldr walked beside him, a simple white tunic and black pants comprising his outfit. But it was his hair that was the talk of the audience, so pale and white that it seemed to glow itself. He was a handsome creature, youthful and majestic, with a muscular body and a gentle smile. The muses began to giggle as they watched him walk past.

It was after Thor and Baldr had separated to stand beside their father and mother, that little gasps and whispers began to pervade the air. Behind them had walked Odin’s youngest child, wearing a dress of blue that draped over your body like water. It looked like it had been made of the thinnest netting all gathered and crushed together then draped over your body in the fashion of the Greeks. The fabric was so light near the top that it looked like the very froth of a wave, and darkened as it flared out behind you, the hem almost as black as the deepest trenches of the sea. Like your mother and father, you had draped a fur over your shoulders, hoping to appease your people. You had wanted to blend in with the Greeks, had wanted them to feel respected (you were entering their home after all) but you still wanted to look like a viking.

The Aesir walked forward as Zeus stood from his throne, followed slowly by his brothers and Hera. He smiled at the approaching group, waiting until they were just in front of the thrones before speaking.

“Welcome, all, to Mount Olympus,” his voice boomed, and a small flutter of claps sounded from around the crowd. “Thank you for joining us, and for ensuring peace between our peoples for the rest of our eternity,” he smiled, and Odin bowed his head in thanks, letting go of Frigg’s hand to hold both of his own in front of himself. “Please, converse, rest, enjoy the sights of Olympus and partake in the refreshments,” Zeus gestured his arms to the tables of ambrosia that stretched so far that even the gods lost sight of their ends. With that, he sat back on his throne, and waited for Odin and Frigg to approach.

Hades took the opportunity to grab Persephone’s hand and try to slink off but the goddess just chided him and forced him to sit back in his throne as she went to see her mother. Hel chose this moment to approach him and the two began a stilted conversation about their individual worlds of death. Hephaestus and Hestia, who had taken up to joining together in situations of unfamiliarity, sat together in the corner, whispering among themselves. Apollo found company in Bragi, though both instantly began speaking in verse to try and prove who was the better poet.

Artemis, Ares, and Athena had crowded Thor and Tyr and were all in different positions of trying to look dangerous, unamused, and intrigued at the same time. Aphrodite had pounced on Baldr, but found competition in the muses who had already made their way to surround him, and soon found herself flirting with Freyr. Hermes and Loki too had found delightful conversation with one another, full of ideas of thievery and trickery.

And Poseidon was… enamoured. Since the moment he had laid eyes on you he had not taken them away. He had slowly sat back down in his chair, worried that if he stayed standing his knees may give out. You made a god weak. You were beautiful, ethereal, magical, beyond anything even the gods could think to conjure. And your dress… oh that dress, had you chosen it for him? Had you arrived with a mind to capture his very essence? Because it started with that dress. You looked the very soul of water, the very thing that made a world impossible without it. Your hair, your luscious hair, so blue that it reminded him of his palace, of the places deepest in the sea where he felt truly at peace. And the small smile on your face as you meandered between the different groups of gods conversing, slightly shy of your place, but not unhappy. It was the smile of a fresh pearl, one that shined under even the dimmest of lights.

Poseidon watched you walk about, not entering any conversation but not shying away from listening to the others speak. Your pretty face never once dipped into a frown, and he felt like he would never truly catch his breath if he could see you in his line of vision. It took every bit of his godly power to force his eyes away, and he was both angered and thankful when some god (who seemed to be the only one who looked as old as he probably was) walked up to his throne and began conversing about fish.

You were so happy that Njord had listened to your little prompt to go speak to the god of the seas, because it meant he finally pulled his eyes away from you, and you could begin to watch him in return. He had been the first of the thrones you had looked at, and the only one you truly cared about now. His eyes were such a dark blue that they reminded you of the ocean, of your favourite place in the ocean in fact, and they seemed so… knowing, as if one look at another told him everything he needed to know about them. His form was majestic, stoic and strong, with broad shoulders and thick arms that made you desire something you had never desired before. You wanted him to hold you. You wanted him to wrap those arms around you, to run your fingers over those arms. Were you bewitched? Were you cursed? Even his hair made you feel desire, those beautiful locks of hair that resembled celestial bronze, neat yet still unrestrained with a particularly unruly strand falling onto his forehead. You wanted to run your fingers through that hair, to feel if it was truly as soft as you imagined, to press your nose into it and inhale the slightly salty scent that surely clung to him, that you had come to love as much as the sight of the ocean itself. You wanted to feel his beard on your cheeks, under your palms, to know if the white hairs that threaded through it were any coarser than the others, to know what it felt like to have a man’s face in the palms of your hands. Your entire being felt as if it was on fire, and the more you stared at him, at the slight signs of age that showed themselves in the lines by his eyes and mouth, the more you felt it burn inside you.

Someone cleared their throat to your right and you gasped, whirling on them as a blush branded itself on your cheeks, as if your body wanted to betray your thoughts. You smiled, hoping to cover up whatever embarrassment may have shown on your face, and gazed at the god before you. He was about your height, if not a little taller, with a grin that reminded you of Loki’s. His hair was black and combed back smoothly in a rather regal fashion. His eyes were black too, you noticed, so black that you couldn’t differentiate the pupil from the iris. You smiled brightly at him, bowing your head in greeting when you noticed the little wings that protruded from his shoes.

“My goodness! Your shoes!” You exclaimed, gasping and pointing at them with a delighted little laugh.

“Yes,” he laughed along, “they help me travel quickly when I am tired, though they do often have a mind of their own,” he joked, and you laughed loudly. He had a sweet voice, one that would sound happy even when he was sad. “I am Hermes, son of Zeus, what is your name?” His eyes were sparkling and you found you enjoyed it.

“I am Y/n of the Aesir, goddess of love and war,” you introduced yourself, holding out your hand to him. Hermes held it as if it were a precious gift and pressed his lips to your knuckles. You had never felt so regal.

“Ah, yes, Odin’s youngest, I have heard of your prowess on the battlefield.” Hermes was surely a charmer, you thought, and you smiled brightly, a tinge of pink to your cheeks.

“You flatter me, I am still unproven as a goddess of war, though I suppose I do plan a strategy well,” you smiled cheekily, shrugging nonchalantly and holding your hands behind your back as you swayed girlishly.

If there was one thing you were proud of, it was your ability to fight. It was the reason your father had given you this title, your cunning ability to break down your opponents in all sorts of ways, to plan out a fight before it had even begun. Simply put, you were good at it, you could defeat Tyr with ease now, and even Thor had become no challenge. While you still struggled with the love side of your godly abilities and duties, you could always rely on your fighting.

“What about you, Hermes? What are you the god of?” You asked, tilting your head in question.

“Many things, trade, luck, travel, and thieves,” he answered breezily, though his smile betrayed his pride. “I am the herald of our pantheon, the messenger of the gods.”

“Well you are very important then, for where would we be without our messengers?” You told him sweetly, and all he could do was nod. His chest filled with warmth and he knew he had to be careful or the affection that now bubbled inside of him would erupt from his mouth.

“You are wise as you are sweet,” he simply replied, and you just smiled brightly before turning to face the group and stepping slightly closer to his side.

“You remind me of Loki, though he is not a brother, I see him as such,” you told him, and a small pang hit him in the stomach. You had already passed him off as a brother it seemed. But Hermes just shook his head to himself and smiled at you again, leading you toward a display of flowers just to the side that was one of Demeter’s favoured experimental projects. He was tenacious, if nothing else, and he would eventually get you to enjoy his company as something more.

Poseidon had ended up enjoying his conversation with Njord (who was surprisingly intelligent and rather engaging when conversing about fish) but when the god had left him he instantly began to look around for you. Any good mood was squashed when he saw you walking off arm in arm with Hermes, and a thunderous look settled across his face. Somewhere on earth a storm began to brew. Luckily, you didn’t walk far, and he was able to watch over you from his throne, though his mood had already soured, and continued to sour the longer you stayed attached to Hermes’ arm.

Hades, who had finally rid himself of Hel’s company, Hestia and Hephaestus from their corner, and even Dionysus from his seat at the ambrosia table with a jug of wine bigger than his head watched Poseidon. He was acting rather odd, and they could all now see why. His eyes had not left the girl-goddess since she had arrived, and he was miserably failing if he was attempting to be subtle. They had noticed the goddess watching him in return, the pink tint on her cheeks and the sparkle in her eye, and a teasing giggle seemed to build in all those watching. How poignant for Poseidon to fall for the goddess dressed like the sea. Hades stood from his throne and made his way to his brother, sitting on the arm of his throne and smirking at him.

“I will admit, brother, that she is beautiful,” he told Poseidon quietly. The god of the sea snapped his head to his brother, and scowled.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he answered simply, but Hades just laughed, patting Poseidon on the shoulder.

“Oh brother, you truly do not understand the art of subtlety, do you?” Hades raised an eyebrow and Poseidon stared at him bewildered. “You have watched that one since she arrived and done nothing but that. And goodness, the way you watch her! Have you never seen a woman?” Poseidon shrugged his brother’s hand off of his shoulders and had the decency to look slightly sheepish. He had assumed no one would notice. Hades noted the slight shame in his brother’s expression and sighed, smiling gently.

“Do not worry, I will tell no one, though I may not have anything to tell as she does seem to be enjoying Hermes’ company,” he added teasingly, and Poseidon growled at his brother’s back.

He was distracted by a commotion that had arisen near where Hermes and the goddess had stood. Now a group had gathered around them, fluttering with whispers, and he was too curious not to know what was going on. He walked swiftly from the throne, standing just behind some of the minor gods in the group and peering over their heads.

“So you are a goddess of war, your brother has said?” Ares asked, hands on his hips as he stared down at you. You smiled up at him, nodding your head.

“The goddess of war and love,” you told him. Athena and Aphrodite, both stood just behind Ares with their arms crossed over their chests scoffed.

“A goddess of war and love? Must not be good at either,” Aphrodite murmured, voice snarky and loud enough to be heard by everyone. Athena smirked, hiding a chuckle behind her hand. You frowned at this, looking toward the two goddesses, but Ares just moved so you would be forced to continue staring at him.

“She is a guest, do not be rude,” Hermes spat, but Ares and Aphrodite just waved their hands in twin moves of dismissal.

“I am the god of war, she is the goddess of love, we have the right to ask questions of a guest who resembles us so closely,” Ares smirked at Hermes, but he was quick to return his gaze to you. His eyes were like fire, hungry and angry, ready to burn whatever he looked at.

“So, what exactly do you do? Do you make enemies fall in love and end wars?” Aphrodite snarked, tilting her head and staring at you like you were just something annoying that had flown into her path.

Poseidon wanted to intervene. He was desperate to come to your defence, to have the waters flood Olympus and drown each of them until they were nothing but salt in the sea. But before he could step forward to your aid, he saw the subtle changes in you. He saw the way your eyes hardened, any trace of the happiness and gentleness with which you had treated everyone thus far disappearing. He saw your back straighten just a tad more, your shoulders pushing back and your balance shifting just slightly forward onto the balls of your feet. You clenched your teeth together for a moment before relaxing your jaw and looking up at Ares.

“Would you like to fight me?” You asked simply, folding your hands in front of you. Ares began to laugh, a deep guffawing laugh that had him bending backward and puffing it into the sky. Aphrodite tittered, pressing her fingers to her mouth and turning to the side as her laugh tinkled into the air. Even Athena smirked, though she didn’t say anything nor laugh, just a widening of her lips and a slight disbelief at your stupidity in her eyes. “Is there a problem?”

“You have just asked to fight a REAL god of war, child, what am I to do other than laugh?” He replied, throwing his arms out and gazing at the crowd.

“Careful, brother,” Hermes spat, but you just placed a hand on his arm, stoic expression not changing.

“You could fight me,” you answered simply, beginning to tie your hair back. “Unless you do not believe in yourself, REAL god of war?”

Ares snarled, baring his teeth at you before stepping back and throwing off his purple sash. It would only be a hindrance to his fighting ability. You smiled, broad and bright, and a longsword appeared in your hand. A glorious weapon, with a handle of white bone carved from a broken fang of Fenrir. The blade was black like onyx, but fashioned from the strongest metal the dwarves could find and forge in Nidavellir. It was your favourite. You spun it in your hand lazily, inspecting it for a moment before turning to look back at Ares. Your eyes flashed blue, so quickly that if anyone had blinked they would have missed it. Then, with a smile so gentle you seemed you could never hurt a fly, you attacked.

It took you no more than five minutes to have Ares on the floor, your sword pointed at his throat. You were swift like wind, clanging your sword against his before twisting around him and kicking the back of his knee and then the other to flip him over as he fell. Not a hair out of place, you smiled down at him, pressing the point just a little into the skin of his throat before pulling it away completely and sending it back to Asgard. Ares stared up at you with eyes so wide you thought they would pop out of his head. He was winded, puffing on the floor as he tried to figure out where he was, what had just happened.

“How did you…” Hermes stared at you, mouth wide open.

“I told you! I’m good at strategy. He is cocky, and he underestimated me. He believed I was being cocky, and thought that when I saw him with his sword I would be apprehensive. He did not expect a swift beginning attack, nor did he believe I would risk trying to go for an obvious place like the back of the knees. To know your opponent is to be able to defeat them. Simple.” You smiled at Hermes, shrugging and turning away from the crowd to venture around the flower display and find one you hadn’t seen yet.

Ares sat up, Aphrodite gulped, and Athena turned away, walking off. The entire group began to whisper about what they had just witnessed, the story spreading to all the gods and spirits quicker than a wildfire. They slowly dispersed, leaving Ares on the floor with Aphrodite gently patting his shoulder in a sad attempt at comfort (which he shoved off as he stood and stormed away).

Poseidon watched all this and waited until he had walked back to his throne to let himself smile. He leaned back and replayed the fight in his mind, chuckling at the way you had stomped on the back of Ares’ knee with your delicate shoes. Oh he was absolutely enthralled by this goddess, and he didn’t even know your name yet…

Taglist: @josxkl1m

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idksmtms · 2 months

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You Are Not One Of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 3

Full Request - Part 2

AN: I’m so sorry this is so late! I’ve been so busy with life and then I was so tired I kinda lost the motivation to write but I’m back now!!! Also, sorry this is so short, it's kind of a filler before all the big stuff happens!

Side note: I’m so proud of the way I choose to show their messaging systems - will continue in ending note -

Summary: Forced apart, you and Poseidon try to find ways to communicate.

Word count: 2,604

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), god racism?? Idk they act like “foreigner gods” is a bad thing, lusting, liking the fact that he looks older (is this a warning???), (please let me know if I missed any)

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

After you were thrown from Olympus and forbidden to even be near your love, it stormed for two weeks straight. With every day of the storm, more houses were destroyed, more people hurt, with no sign of an end. The people trekked to Poseidon’s temples every day with offerings, they prayed until their voices were hoarse, but the rain didn’t cease. The people believed he had given up on them, that they had done something to anger him. They didn’t know the utter heartbreak that coursed with the ichor in his veins. They didn’t know that this was the true despair of a god, that it could destroy them all.

You had been taken back to Asgard and cared for like you were newly-made, the Aesir tip-toeing around you and hoping not to set off any catastrophes. You had become numb since you had been brought home, moving around the halls of Valhalla like a lost spirit. Odin and Frigg tried so hard to bring you back, to do something that would return you to yourself, but it was all in vain. The only thing that you could possibly want was him.

Every day you walked the fjords, standing right on the edge of a cliff, the breeze pressing on your back, hoping to push you off. You had roamed every inch of the fjords, combed every cliffedge. You waited for Pegasus to find you, to whisk you away to your love, but the winged stallion never came. You hoped for a sign, any sign that both of you weren’t lost to each other, but nothing came.

And then, when you were beginning to lose all hope, you looked down over the edge of the cliff, straight down and into the swirling waters that frothed and smashed against the sharp rocks. There was no pegasus, but a huge clump of seaweed. You had never seen the seaweed come up near the fjords before in your whole existence, not this much anyway. It was always deep under the water, or only a few specks of it floated up and washed ashore. But there was so much of it floating near the edge that it created an island on the water.

Your heart stopped in your chest as you watched it float to the cliff wall and bump against it. Again and again it floated into the cliff, as if waiting for something before it would allow itself to disperse. You clenched your hands together, breath suddenly shallow, then took a run and jumped off the cliff.

The water was icy, and your skin began to tingle as the bubbles floated up around you and to the surface. You waited until they had all disappeared then allowed yourself to push to the surface as well, treading water and staring up at the sky for a moment. It had been so long since you had gone swimming, since you had enjoyed the sea as you once had, and it felt immeasurably good to be immersed in it once more. You smiled, wider and brighter than you had ever done since being back from Olympus. You allowed yourself to drop into the water again and again, ceasing the swirling of your arms and legs to just float in it. It felt like a hug from Poseidon. Then you swam over to the island of kelp and began sifting through it.

Carefully pulling each piece away and gathering it into your other hand. If it truly was a message from him you wouldn’t let any of it go to waste. It was slippery and a little slimy but you just held on tighter as you straightened out each piece and lay it in your other hand. Right in the centre of the bundle, you found five oyster shells. They were placed in a perfectly straight row in the perfect centre of the kelp and they were… perfect. You had never seen an oyster like that, perfectly black on the outside like a mussel but still rippled so you knew it was an oyster. You reached out and gently picked one up. Your hands shook and tears filled your eyes until the oyster became blurry. You wiped at them haphazardly, blinking until you could see again and the tears had mixed into the seawater.

The oyster was just barely open, a thin crack that you tried to peek through, but you couldn’t see anything inside. You dug your nails into the opening and used whatever godly strength you possess to pry it open just enough without breaking it fully. It was a rather delicate task and you had to stop a few times for fear of cracking the shell, but when you got it open you found a beautiful pearl sitting in the centre. It wasn’t perfectly round (as you found that natural pearls rarely were) and was actually rather flat with its edges poking out here and there so it looked like a splash of water in pearl form. You picked it out of the shell, the oyster within not giving any resistance, and you held it in your palm. It seemed smooth, and glinted different colours in the grey light. You flipped it over, and you found that there were little scratches on the pearl. They were much too small for you to decipher at first, but as you brought it closer to your eye and realised that it was writing, your heart began to thunder. ‘To have and to hold’ was all it said. You stared at it, heart in your throat, and gently placed it back in the oyster, shutting it and resting it on its bed. The next was the same, except this pearl was smoother around the edges, almost like a flat oval. ‘For better or worse’ it said in the same small writing. The one after it was almost perfectly round but also flat and thin like a drachma. ‘For richer or for poorer’. The next pearl was sharp, its edges jagged and spiking out. ‘Until death do us part’. You caressed it, allowing the sharpest edge to cut into your skin and the bead of blood to stain the pearl. You whispered each word aloud as you opened the pearls, hoping that since you were in the water that he could hear it, that he would know. The final pearl was a perfect sphere and as large as the first segment of your pinky finger. The writing was inscribed around it, and you spun it over and over, reading the words until they were screaming inside your head, until you couldn’t read them anymore because your eyes were streaming with tears and you were sobbing so heavily that water splashed up and into your mouth. ‘I love you’ it read, inscribed over and over around the pearl so that it looked like it was scratched all over.

You floated there for a moment, staring at the vows, at the pearls, then let yourself sink under the water, eyes closed. You screamed the words into the water, bubbles floating around your face, voice garbled, but you screamed until you had no air left and even your body began to tire. You wanted him to hear you, needed him to know. Then you surfaced, breathing heavily and feeling lighter than you had before coming to the cliffs. You looked at each pearl again, caressed them, then gently placed them back into their shells. You wrapped the shells up in the seaweed, creating a tight parcel and tying it up with the seaweed you had stripped away before. You stayed in the water a while longer, feeling the caress of it on your skin, pretending it was his arms wrapping around you, his fingers running up and down your arms. Then, when it became close to the time of the nightly feast and knowing the others would begin to worry if you did not show up, you grabbed the parcel and made your way back to your new home, a small house built at the bottom of the hills that led to the cliff edges.

It was more of a hut, built in the viking style and furnished sparsely. You had lost all your taste for glamour in the last weeks, lost the feeling of being a goddess, and had conjured this place, quiet and secluded and right by the cliffs you had once enjoyed. You left the pile of seaweed in the hall of the house by the entrance, thinking of ways to decorate your house with it. You placed the shells in order on a shelf just above your bed. You didn’t want the pearls themselves to be exposed, just in case someone came snooping. You looked at them longingly and kissed each shell before making the journey back to Valhalla. You had to find a way to send a message in return. You had to.

Poseidon sat on the beach he had once brought you to. He stared out at the water’s edge, watching a happy couple walk along it, a woman in a beautiful dress kicking up splashes of water and the man staring down at her with such devotion in his eyes. He watched them press close to each other, walk further into the water, let it roll over them. He watched them kiss, felt it on his own lips, then a wave crashed over the shadows and they disappeared into seafoam and the sparkle of sunlight on the water.

Poseidon pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, sighing heavily and shaking his head as he muttered angrily to himself. Though he had been forced to stop the storms lest he flood all of Greece, the one in his head never ceased. You were his every thought, consuming him from the inside. He had gone to the lake on Olympus everyday for the week he had been forced to stay there after your banishment. Zeus has wanted all the gods together to feast and be merry for the return of his bolt. Poseidon had not spoken a word the entire time, glaring at his brother with such fire that even Hephaestus could not conjure a flame with such heat. The rest of the time was either spent watching Hermes, trying to figure out if all of this was really his doing, or making the trek to the lake to sit on one of the boulders, feet dipped into the water, and reminiscing on the time he had with you.

Even since had returned to his domain, nothing felt right. The usually comforting embrace of the water now felt hollow. The feeling of the sand under his feet did not mean anything now that he couldn’t share it with you. He no longer felt like the god of the seas, just a god of… nothing. Everywhere he looked he saw something that reminded him of you. He could not escape your memory even if he were trying. Even now, sitting on the beach where you had first kissed, he could only hope you had received his pearls, his vows of marriage.

A butterfly, blue and shiny, fluttered into view. He watched it flap its wings and fly in little twirls, as if looking for something. Then it began to flutter closer, circling its way to him. He watched the little creature with a sad smile, wishing you were here to see it. He knew you would love it. But the butterfly kept coming closer, flittering and fluttering until it sat itself on the tip of his nose. His eyes crossed as he tried to stare at it, eyebrows knitting in a frown, as the insect flapped its wings once, twice, then laid them out flat and stopped moving entirely. Without the strength of its little legs gripping to his nose, the butterfly fell away and into his lap, laying on his thigh as still and dead as he felt. His frown deepened, staring at the creature with its legs poking up into the air and wings perfectly flat.

The structure and pattern suggested it was a monarch butterfly, but they didn’t come in blue. It was old, at least for its species, around 6 weeks if he were to guess, right at the end of its life. With the gentlest movements, he dug his fingertips under the wings of the dead butterfly and lifted it closer to his eyes. He flipped it over and examined the backs of its wings, the beautiful blue that somehow shined even brighter now that it was dead. He stared at the black lines that swirled over the wings, creating little pockets of blue and edged with dots of white. It was in the black lines that he found writing, in the smallest letters possible. Where the lines swirled and made pockets, letters followed them. And there, on the wings of this butterfly that seemed to randomly appear on this beach and randomly choose to land on him, he found his wedding vows. Each one he had sent, returned in the beautiful writing of a goddess. And right at the bottom, in the biggest letters, ‘I love you’. He could almost hear your voice, a whisper in the wind, and he closed his eyes lest the tears fall.

Years passed without a word from neither him nor you. You had settled into your life with the Aesir again, comforted by the pearls that sat above your bed. You opened the shells every night and gazed at them, whispering the words and hoping that somewhere in the sea he felt your love. He too returned to his palace underwater, the butterfly encased in clear ice to be frozen as long as he lived, a reminder that you had said yes, that you had married him. Both of you felt safer knowing he was yours and you were his. It was not a traditional wedding by any means, but it was yours, and you would cherish it until the end of your days.

After the first three decades of peace and no sign of anyone knowing that you had sent messages to each other, you sent one more, another butterfly with a simple reminder that you loved him. In return you received a conch shell, not too large but still a hefty weight in your palm. When you lifted it to your ear, in the whisper of the ocean you could hear his voice, telling you he loved you. Every night you put it to your ear and let it lull you to sleep.

So many years passed in this way, changes coming and going, empires rising and falling. Suddenly the modem age arrived, bringing its technology and skyscrapers and all of you gods into each other’s vicinity once more. Now the Greek gods were huddled in New York, living lavishly atop the Empire State building while the halls of the Aesir occupied Boston, hiding in plain sight. The battles continued, the monsters still roared, but things had become slow, the gods became lazy. While you kept your cabin in the fjords, your connection to Poseidon and your homeland, you were forced to spend much of your time in Boston to keep yourself alive, to keep your facade with the other gods.

The clashes between the worlds of the Greek and the Norse became more frequent, though all the gods kept their promise of staying away from each other. It was not until the battle of the Draugur that this promise was broken. That after millennia you were face to face with your love once more…

A/N: I chose things from the sea as his messaging system because obvi he’s the god of the sea. But I chose butterflies for Y/n because I see her character in so many ways that I feel the butterfly embodies. I was thinking of the butterfly effect (a butterfly flaps its wings in one place and a storm starts in another) and that’s literally Y/n because she’s this small thing who’s seen as gentle and underestimated but she causes all these big things simply by existing. And then butterflies are seen as small and gentle and colourful but there’s literally a species of butterfly that drinks the tears of turtles and that felt so accurate to her character because she’s seen as small and pretty and colourful (and she is) but she can also be vicious and violent for survival. Anyway, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Taglist: @thicficbich1, @pasta-warlord

#percy jackson show #percy jackson x reader #percy pjo #percy series #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #perseus jackson #poseidon pjo #poseidon #poseiden #poseidad #poseidón #pjo poseidon #poseidon fic update #poseidon x reader #posiedon #posideon #poseidon deity

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